#Not quite sure what I expected lads

[soft--dragon]

I posted 1,609 times in 2022

1,596 posts created (99%)

13 posts reblogged (1%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@soft--dragon

@fluffallamaful

@tasmanianstripes

@spectral-ask-memes

@rowlets-are-seriously-round

I tagged 1,605 of my posts in 2022

#dragons asks - 1,539 posts

#b3an1e io - 143 posts

#joker anon - 129 posts

#nicodiangelofanboy - 124 posts

#crownin the stars - 115 posts

#bat anon - 101 posts

#squirrel anon - 68 posts

#sh0rt cak3 - 63 posts

#wolf anon - 37 posts

#artymiswritesfics - 36 posts

Longest Tag: 65 characters

#i recommend anyone who loves bedrock bros and fluff to go read it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Light-Hearted In Limbo

Inspired by this ask here

I changed the prompt a bit, hope that's okay <3

Word Count: 3,368

Warnings: A bit of a depressive episode in the beginning but it leads to hurt/comfort and a lot of fluff :D

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

ALL PLATONIC, PLEASE DON'T INTERACT SHIPPERS

A low, flat hum echoed in the depressive cold of the platform. It made the space horribly eerie, chilling to anything that could hear it. Though, as far as Wilbur Soot was concerned, nothing heard him. His fingers were raw with how long he’d been scratching his nails down the walls, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it over, and over, and over again. His glazed eyes were locked to the dried blood on the concrete, the previous attempts of escape of his eternal prison stared straight back at him. 

This was his purgatory. A constant, repetitive pattern that never stopped. He was going to suffer this fate forever, he knew it, it was practically written on the wall alongside his blood. He was never escaping. Never. Never. 

“-ilbur! Oi! Wilbur!” 

Hands landed on Wilbur’s tightly drawn shoulders, the contact burning through the thick trench coat wrapped around the man’s shoulders. He couldn’t keep the scream from wrenching from his constricted lungs, swiping out at the thing attacking him and curling up tighter. 

“Hey! Jesus fucking christ, don’t hit me dickhead!”

In his panic, Wilbur tried to shove at the hands still digging into his skin. “Let go of me! Let go- don’t hurt m-me- please-”

The hands left his shoulders almost immediately and Wilbur shuddered, the cold drowning him once more and making his heart ache for the warmth to return, even if it had been overwhelming. He hunched in on himself, shivering against the freezing floor. 

The silence was louder than his previous yelling, the stillness in the air making the man’s skin crawl. Then, a small sigh sounded out, making him flinch and press closer to the wall.

“Wilbur, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The gruff voice was quiet, concern lining the edges.

Recognition tingled in the back of Wilbur’s brain and he hesitantly lifted his head to risk a look. A pair of orange eyes looked back at him, framed by mutton chops and gnarled, chipped horns. 

“S-Schlatt?” Wilbur croaked, staring at the semi-translucent ram hybrid in front of him. After all this time in his hellscape, had he finally lost it? 

The man before him let out a small breath again. “Yeah,” he moved back a bit, not to crowd the brunette. “You look like shit.”

Wilbur blinked rapidly, making the ram hybrid come more into focus. Schlatt was squatting on the concrete, watching him with careful eyes, his ears bent back in clear apprehension of Wilbur freaking out again.

So, Wilbur slowly let go of the vice grip on his knees, then kicked Schatt’s ankle.

“Fuck!” Schlatt fell back with a yell, gripping his foot tightly and gritting his teeth. “What the fuck man?! Why’d you do that?!”

Wilbur fully sat up, eyebrows high and teeth gritted together. “You scared the crap out of me!" he snapped.

Schlatt grumbled, rubbing his stinging ankle. “Yeah no shit, I can see that- fuck that hurt man, the fucks wrong with you?" 

Wilbur was too busy trying to wrap his head around the situation to really acknowledge Schlatt's griping. "How did you get here?" He asked. 

The ram glared at him but the pain in his ankle seemed to have calmed as he answered gruffly. "Got bored."

Wilbur stared at him for a moment, the cogs in his head screeching against each other as he slowly processed that nugget of information. "Bored? How the hell did you leave your limbo?" 

Schlatt shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care. I figured it out somehow." He dropped his hands behind him, propping himself up. "I wanted something entertaining after years of pure hell." 

Something angry curled in the base of Wilbur’s gut, and he glared at the man. “Don’t expect anything from me, I’m still pissed at you.”

Schlatt dipped his head to the side almost patronisingly. “Still? Dude, it’s been like, what? Ten years since everything happened? Why can’t we just go back to old times?”

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173 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

#4

Give Us A Laugh, We Miss It

Inspired by this ask here

Word Count: 2,178

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Ranboo's sing-song voice hummed out in the room, “Not gonna get me~”

“How do you not laugh at anythin’?” Tommy demanded, slapping a hand into the armrest of his chair as he turned to look at the masked teen beside him. “We really can’t see you trying not to- ya know-” He pulled a face as if holding his breath and bringing a hand to cover his mouth, emphasising Ranboo’s advantage of the mask hiding his features, only for the teen to throw his hands up in a helpless shrug.

“No- I just haven’t- I legitimately have not laughed,” he replied, his own words tapering off at Tubbo’s mutter of, ”I’m gonna rip it off.” His eyes were impishly glinting, which were the only things seeable in the fabric of his red hoodie that was practically drowning him. The narrowed pair of eyes were locked right on Ranboo’s black and white face covering. 

Ranboo leaned away with an unseeable smile of amusement. “Don’t you dare rip it off.”

“I have scissors.”

“Don’t rip it off.”

The threat however, was indeed acted upon later that same night. 

When they hit end stream, Ranboo slipped off the glasses and mask with a content sigh, his eyes squinting with his smile at the pair on either side of him.

“That went well I think,” he commented, “can’t believe I’m the one that got you both to lose though.”

“We weren’t expecting you to make a balls joke!” Tommy defended, tapping at his keyboard to send a message to his editors about the vod. 

“I didn’t, I was just stating a fact!”

“Bullshit, you knew what you were doing,” Tubbo grumbled, glaring at his phone which was being flooded with Twitter notifications from the tweet he was forced to make from losing the challenge. 

Ranboo chuckled quietly, folding his glasses and placing them on the desk alongside the iconic mask, stretching his arms back over his chair. He was unaware of Tubbo staring at him rather intensely. 

Tommy however, scoffed loudly. “Oh, so you laugh now that the cameras are off? Such a bastard.”

The faceless streamer gave an offended noise. “What? We’re not doing the challenge anymore! Why wouldn’t I laugh now?”

Tubbo leaned towards him, a devious smirk on his face as a plan formulated in his head. "That’s a good point Ran, we haven’t heard you laugh in so long. I think you owe us some laughter.” 

Ranboo gave him an odd look, confusion evident in his face. “Huh?”

Tommy, who had taken part and fallen victim in Tubbo’s schemes before, knew exactly where the boy’s mind was headed, and he turned in his chair slowly, a mischievous grin stretching on his face. 

Now, Ranboo was running laps of Tubbo’s house, screaming like Wario as Tommy and Tubbo skidded after him, cackling madly as they tried to cut off the American from escaping.

“Bugger off! Both of you! Just- Tommy, crAP!” Ranboo had to slide on the floorboards with his socked feet to avoid running straight into the blonde, changing course mid-motion to bolt towards the kitchen instead. 

Tommy gave a yell of outrage. “Oi! No- Tubbo catch him! Catch him!”

Tubbo absolutely leapt across the space, managing to grab Ranboo around the waist and cling on with surprising strength, planting his heels into the ground and laughing when the boy almost stumbled to the floor. "Got him! I got him, Tom!”

“Hold him there!”

Ranboo dropped an arm to Tubbo’s side, squeezing quickly at the skin and delighting at Tubbo’s squeal of alarm, the boy immediately scrambling away from Ranboo and releasing him. Unfortunately for the tall teen, Tommy had skidded in front of the kitchen doorway, blocking off his one way of escape. 

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173 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

#3

Meetups in Florida

Inspired by this ask here

Word Count: 2,866

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Meeting Dream was one of the biggest, coolest, pogchampest moment of Tommy’s life.

The guy was just so awesome! The moment Tommy knocked on the door and it opened to reveal Dream in all his 6’3 glory, he’d cracked a grin and pulled Tommy into a warm embrace. Tommy clung on, the hug making him giddy beyond reason.

“It’s good to finally see you kiddo,” he spoke softly, Tommy was able to hear the smile in his voice.

“You too big man,” Tommy’s voice was just about a whisper, in awe of the whole situation. Dream was right here, he was hugging him, this was happening.

Sapnap was just as ecstatic to meet Tommy, sweeping him up into his arms and spinning him around, laughing with the boy as he clung back to his friend.

“The gremlin child is in the house!” Sapnap whooped, stopping in his excited spinning and simply bear hugging the teen close.

“Aye! I’m not a child, bitch!”

“First cuss in the house and he’s barely been here five minutes,” Dream laughed from where he was leaning against the wall.

“But he didn’t deny he was a gremlin!” Sapnap grinned, gently putting Tommy down and ruffling his hair affectionately. “It’s awesome to meet you bud.”

Tommy pretended he wasn’t leaning into the hand messing with his curls, his toothy smile spread across his face. “You too Sap Nappitus."

The rest of the day was filled up by relaxing together and planning the vlog they were going to film the next day. Dream was suggesting visiting his favourite places that would allow Tommy to see Florida. While Sapnap offered a petting zoo, knowing Tommy's love for animals and wanting to indulge the kid.

In the end, they decided to do both. Vlog Tommy's tour of Florida, but leave the petting zoo off camera. The adults agreed that not everything had to go on film, Tommy didn't have to be pumping out content the entire trip. Some moments could be left for them to enjoy.

The entire time they were talking, Tommy had been leaning on one of them. He’d pre-warned them he was going to get clingy during the meet up, and got an amused “It’s okay Toms, you’re more than welcome to." And with that reassurance, Tommy became the human embodiment of a barnacle. Whether he was touching a knee to one of theirs, leaning on their side, or simply hugging them close, Tommy was in full ‘clingy raccoon mode’. Dream and Sapnap may have sent boastful texts to Wilbur who promptly sent them a photo of his middle finger and a plane ticket to Florida.

They weren’t sure if the second picture was a joke or not.

To Dream and Sapnap’s delight, Tommy was just as sweet and kind as he was off camera. His internet persona was completely gone, leaving one of the more adorable teenagers they’d ever met.

Sapnap gave Tommy bear hugs constantly, ruffling his hair and gently flicking his forehead when the boy said a particularly cheeky comment. Dream kept carding his fingers through Tommy’s curls when he leaned into the older man’s side, dropping nicknames and compliments left and right when he saw fit. Tommy was relishing in the contact and praise. He usually got it from Wilbur, and having to visit America without him sucked, the loneliness was suffocating. However, with the people he was meeting and spending time with, it helped the ache in his chest.

The hours were whisked away, soon night approached and the trio were kicked back in the lounge, sharing stories and laughing, simply enjoying each other’s company in person after being stuck behind a screen for so long.

Tommy had eaten the snacks provided, but when you’re a 6’3 teenager and still growing, you tend to need a larger portion of food. Sapnap grinned at him when Tommy’s stomach growled, already pulling out a takeaway menu and throwing it at him.

“I’ll go pick it up when we’ve ordered,” he said, standing and going to find his phone.

Tommy, who was leaning on Dream’s shoulder, held the pamphlet up to the man. “What you getting?”

Dream hummed, leaning over to read the name of the food place before dropping his cheek into Tommy’s hair. “Burger,” he replied simply.

The blonde snorted with a fond eye roll. “You are so American.”

“Don’t worry Tommy, I’ll bring you onto our side one day.”

“No- No you won’t, I’m a proud British boy, I will never leave my old ways bitch.”

“Yes you will,” Dream grinned, hugging Tommy closer and squeezing a bit. “I’ll bring you over to the land of guns, burgers and gators!”

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177 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

#2

Welcome Home (Don't Leave Just Yet)

Inspired by this ask here

Word Count: 960

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

ALL PLATONIC, DON'T MAKE ME GRAB MY NERF GUN >:(

"Toms-"

"Shut up."

"Tommy, I have to get up."

"No you don't."

"I can't stay here forever."

"I'll make you. You're my personal pillow. You're not moving."

Ranboo sighed heavily, (fondly,) and carded a hand over Tommy's fluffy hair. "I leave for a few weeks and then you become a barnacle?"

"I'm much cooler than a barnacle, bitch," Tommy readjusted his arms and smooshed his face further into the crook of Ranboo's neck.

The taller streamer tried not to flinch at the contact, his smile widening as Tommy's breath tickled his neck. "Oh really?" He teased, "much cooler than a barnacle?"

"Obviously yes, that's what I just said."

"Would a barnacle still be able to cling onto rocks if it was tickled?"

"Barnacles aren't ticklish, you nimrod."

"I know, but you are."

Tommy's eyes slammed open, his whole body tensing. He blinked up at Ranboo who was grinning widely and felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach.

"W-Well- I'm- I'm not that ticklish-"

Ranboo hummed, tapping his fingers against Tommy's waist and smirking when the boy flinched. "So you're saying if I tickled you, you wouldn't let go?"

Tommy internally screamed. This is a trap, this is a trap, this is a trap-

"Duh, I'm better than a barnacle, I'll just hold on tighter if you tickle me!" Tommy tried to hide his growing nerves with bravado.

"Is that so?"

Fingers softly - so softly they barely touched - trailed along Tommy's sides. The blonde squeaked and shoved his face back into Ranboo's chest, clenching his hoodie tightly. Not even two seconds and he was already cracking.

"How are you doing Toms?" Ranboo chuckled, massaging his fingertips into the gaps between the boy's ribs.

"G-Greheheat," Tommy gasped, hugging Ranboo around his middle more, all the while in fits of giggles. "Juhust pehehachy!"

"Well that's good to hear," Ranboo skittered his fingers up and down Tommy's side and ribs in alternating patterns, keeping the boy guessing. "I would've thought that you'd let go by now."

His thumbs pressed into his hips for a moment, a smirk lifting Ranboo's mouth when Tommy squealed. He focused back on the blonde teen's sides, brushing over his lower back every once in a while.

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224 notes - Posted February 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Snowstorm Serenity

Based off of this prompt here

Word Count: 3,325

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Ranboo could be called many things. Skittish. Quiet. Hardworking.

One thing that popped into Phil and Techno’s heads was, at this moment, awkward. The tall teen was sitting rigid in the plush couch of their cabin, hands squeezing the fabric of his dress pants and eyes nervously flitting around the room. He was the embodiment of a paranoid feline on catnip.

You see, there was an awfully strong snowstorm blustering outside. Phil being the worrisome father figure he was, invited Ranboo to stay in their well fortified home instead of the rickety cabin the enderman hybrid had made. It took a bit of convincing, the boy was extremely hesitant to invade the pair’s own house, but after a bit more reassuring and coaxing, Phil got him to agree.

However, once in the warm and cosy home, Ranboo looked terribly out of place.

Phil sat beside him, his wings twitching in worry and agitation at Ranboo’s restlessness. He tried to focus on the book he was reading, the mug of steaming tea in his free hand slowly going cold the longer he neglected it. Techno sat alone across the room, weapons laid out on the table with the piglin hybrid re-enchanting them back to their best. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire, the raging snowstorm outside the cabin, and the occasional chimes of a tool being fully restored.

Ranboo’s tall ears perked and flicked at the different sounds in the room, his eyes not staying in one spot for more than a few seconds before they jumped somewhere else. Phil finally cracked after another minute of it.

He sighed. “Ranboo.”

The boy immediately winced, ears dipping close to his head and making Phil’s heart squeeze sadly. The pair of wide heterochromia eyes met his own, and all the blonde could see was anxiety.

“Y-Yes Philza?” Ranboo stumbled over his words, shoulder subconsciously curling further inward.

Phil released a short huff, an easy smile lifting his lips. “We’ve gone over this mate, you can call me Phil.”

Ranboo stared at him for a moment before giving a slow, timid nod.

Phil set down his book and tea, resting his elbows on his knees and dipping his head to the side. He cleared his throat a bit. “You don’t have to be so tense Ranboo, neither of us are gonna bite you.”

Ranboo, once again, nodded mutely. The action was incredibly stiff and looked like it took all of the boy’s willpower to do it. Damn, how freaked out was this kid?

Phil was scrambling for a way to get the boy to open up and relax when Techno dropped a sword on the table with a loud clatter, making them both flinch.

The piglin had a rather bored look on his face, eyes locked to Ranboo. “Kid, you’re allowed to chill out,” he grunted. “I know Phil and I seem intimidating, but Phil will literally chirp when you scratch a specific spot on his wings, and I will spend hours with the wolves and play with their pups.”

Phil made a slightly strangled sound at the admittance to his soft spot. Techno didn’t even spare him a glance.

“We’re both dorks,” he said bluntly, “if you’re afraid we’re gonna be mad at you for relaxing in our home you’re wrong. We invited you here cause it was cold outside and we wanted to make sure you were okay. Got me?”

Ranboo’s mouth had slipped open at Techno’s words, his ears perked up a bit but he was still showing signs of nervousness.

Techno clearly spotted it. He folded his hands on his lap and dipped his ears marginally, both were attempts to soften his broad frame. “What’s eatin’ ya kid?” He asked, somehow managing to sound gentle and firm at the same time.

Ranboo winced again, making Phil want to hug him and Techno even more determined to find a way to make him relax.

“I-I…I just-” Ranboo’s grip on his pants tightened further, the words stumbling over each other as if they were new-born deer learning to walk. “...I shouldn’t- I’m not supposed to-” His tail twitched anxiously at his side, his eyes planted on the floor. “I shouldn’t be…doing nothing.”

There was a sound of confusion from Phil and a hum from Techno.

The piglin sat back in his chair, looking at the teen with a neutral expression. “How come?” he asked plainly.

Ranboo flicked his eyes up to Techno in confusion. “Be- Because you let me stay here? I need to pay rent and- and I can’t fall behind- and I need to be ready for…for anything. I can’t afford to relax when someone might…you know…attack? That’s all anyone seems to do here. Fight each other.”

There was a hand suddenly on his shoulder. Ranboo flinched at the touch and snapped his gaze to Phil who was looking at him sadly.

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251 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sysig]

Things discovered: Charm is stupid amounts of fun to draw in the WOY style (Patreon)

Bonus:

Spider bites are already round and soft-shaped!

[yestrday]

― YANDERE! GENSHIN ACADEMY AU. pt one | two | three | four | five

⇢ alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno + ayato, baizhu, mika / gn! reader

introducing! from sumeru hails teyvat's brightest minds, and it's no surprise that many of the academu's smartest are true-blood sumerians. a lesser known fact is that these are less skilled in the workings of the heart, and therefore, a bit more unstable than the average lad.

warning! yandere, obsessive & possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, master-pet dynamics, mentions of bullying, physical wounds

— STOIC ACADEMIC TYPE. alhaitham | الهيثم

[ “if you’re looking to get my help, i’d rather you just outright say it than dilly-dallying around.” ]

⇢ one of the geniuses in your second year, haitham is a no-nonsense type of guy that has that air of arrogance around him. he’s quite hard to approach, and he doesn’t care to socialize with any of your circles. he has, however, taken a liking to you, and will usually just drag you around whenever he feels like it.

⇢ expect forced study sessions with him in the library. he’s very keen on making sure your grades are in tip-top shape, even though you never asked him for help. it’s obvious that he takes a bit of sadistic pleasure when you ask him for his help. when you ask him on how to solve a problem, he stops whatever he’s reading and scrutinizes you with those stoic eyes, before a small and smug grin forms on his face. sometimes you’re not sure if he truly wants to help you or he just likes to hear you plead and beg.

⇢ kinda likes to see you screw up as well. seeing you excel (because he helped you, after all) is all nice and good, but he likes to see you fumble it every once in a while. sometimes you get a bit arrogant, refusing his help and insisting that you can do it by yourself, only for it to backfire in your face. when you run back to him with your begging and pleading, he puts on a show of being nonchalant about it. didn’t you say you were fine? so why bother him now, and especially in the middle of a good book?

⇢doesn’t hide the fact that he sort of treats you like a pet, with the way he drags you to and fro. his blunt everyday tone makes everyone feel like he’s looking down at them, but even more so with the way he talks to you. stay, he says when you start approaching him. sit, he tells you. whether you follow or not is up to you, and while he does love having an obedient pet, there is some fun to be found in keeping a bratty one.

⇢likes to see you rely on him. is it out of genuine care or because he sees you as a complete fool who can’t do anything on their own, time will tell, but he’s strangely insistent about you depending on him. he doesn’t make it very obvious, especially when he acts like he could give two shits about anything, but when you mention having troubles, he says things like “that is what you’re having trouble with?” without offering his help, you usually start nagging him for the answer.

⇢haitham isn’t one for praise but… he does get a kick off you praising him. not because he’s starved for it (he’s had heaps of that ever since he showed his academic prowess) but because it felt just right. he does help you a lot, doesn’t he? taking the time out of his busy day to help you with whatever silly thing you need. the least you could do is thank him for it.

[ “honestly, you ought to be more grateful with how much i’m always helping you.” ]

– PASSIONATE TYPE. kaveh | کاوه

[ “oh yeah, uh, i guess i did win that! do… do you like it?” ]

⇢ your senior kaveh who’s been all over you ever since your first year. he’s a bit clingy with his touches, holding onto your arm while you walk and greeting you with hugs ever since the two of you got close. whenever the two of you see each other in the hallways, he immediately latches onto you and doesn’t let go. will drag you around while chatting your ear off.

⇢ often starts to show off when you’re around. he tries to be really nonchalant about it too, like casually trying to slip in his accomplishment in the middle of a conversation to make it seem like he’s not trying too hard. when you smile and compliment him, he starts to stutter and blush, losing the cool composure he tried to maintain just moments ago. the others tease him for being a senior who wants to impress his junior and he quickly denies it (“they’re just saying what they want!” he’d huff to you), but you can’t deny the red blush and the pleased smile on his face.

⇢ always trying to help other people out, even if he’s too busy. while he’ll drop everything he’s doing when you ask him a favor, he also doesn’t have the heart to say no to others. some days, he gets a bit disheveled by dismissal after helping out so many people at once. when he starts whining to you and he becomes even clingier, be understanding and let him. he’s had a rough day, after all.

⇢ everyone knows the shenanigans that occur around you in school and kaveh is no exception. so he’s made a bit paranoid every day, wondering when of your crazed suitors will snap and just kidnap you. he could just do it himself and not worry about being separated from you, but he thinks he’s above such things (true, but only without the proper motivation). to compensate for this, he spends every second with you like it’s his last.

⇢ did you just hold his hand?!? that must mean something, right?! he conveniently forgets that you’ve held hands with numerous other people in this academy, but you can’t blame the poor dude, he’s the type to overthink stuff like that. he’s gone over seemingly normal moments between you two countless times in his head, wondering if any of that meant something. at the back of his head, he knows he’s overreacting. but then he remembers when you gave him some papers and your fingers lingered for some seconds then he starts squealing in his pillow, absolutely deluded by his fantasies.

⇢ he’s not the jealous type…! really! he knows how kind and sweet you are. he knows that the praises you have for him are genuine and the way you look at him in admiration is all real. you’re not the type to fake those after all…! even so… even so, you continue to look at others with that same look, and praise them with the same praise. it’s not that they don’t deserve it but… is he not just good enough? to have your praises reserved for only him… was he just not worthy of that?!

[ “did i… did i do something wrong…? please, just talk to me, look at me!” ]

— SASSY TYPE. tighnari | الطغنري

[ “those idiots… honestly, they could at least treat you with a little more care!” ]

⇢ straightforward and no-nonsense, tighnari is well-respected among his peers for being an academic with an honest personality. especially in a school where anything can just tip anyone off, tighnari does not care about who he has to offend to make them back off. as such, many suitors can’t just do their trickery to you whenever he’s watching, lest he call them out on the spot.

⇢ he’s very concerned about your wellbeing. he’s often warning you about the dangers of the men you surround yourself with. whether you believe him or not is up to you, but that won’t stop him from trying to prevent anything from happening to you. obviously, he can’t just say that someone’s killed someone— he doesn’t want to ruin your life like that— but he’s often cryptic, hoping that you’ll figure it out for yourself.

⇢ very naggy, though he nags like a disappointed mother rather than a caring one. you and cyno are often at the end of these rants when you two do something stupid (either together or as individuals), but it’s a sign that tighnari truly cares about you. he could care less whether haitham cut himself on one of his books, but when you do he’s immediately all over you and berating you for being stupid and careless.

⇢ becomes too smug whenever you show a preference for him. he loves feeling when you choose him over anyone else and the suitors stew in their anger when he shoots them a haughty grin. cyno often has to remind him that he’s being too much, but he knows how much tighnari delights in defeating the other harem members without even having to do anything. you chose him out of your own free will, and that says a lot more than having you forced to pick him.

⇢ being raised on botany and all its properties, tighnari’s almost an expert in all things plants and that includes their… chemistry. it’s no surprise that he’s one of the suitors who are capable of concocting their little mixtures. when using it on other competitors, he’s not one to dirty his hands. he often has cyno slipping a thing or two in their drinks (or in special cases, an overly desparate kaveh). but when it comes to tampering with your drink? well, he reserves that special privilege for himself, all for the pleasure of watching the chemicals slowly affect you.

⇢ a smart guy, who knows that the way to your heart is not intimidating you into it but instead playing the nice and concerned friend. poor you, always being chased around by these unstable men. why have them who will only hurt you, when you can come to him, someone that you can trust? even if your vision is slipping away, your body becomes heavy… you can trust him, no matter what~

[ “feeling sleepy already? dear me, your body is really fragile… and cute ♪” ]

— GUARD DOG TYPE. cyno | κύων 

[ “if they’re bothering you again, talk to me. i’ll be the one to handle it.” ]

⇢ serious cyno who amuses you with his corny jokes delivered with a stoic expression. despite looking so mature, being with cyno often gets you two into trouble that he didn’t foresee. it has something to do with that intimidating expression and the way he’s ready to fight anyone who nears him. people mistake him for challenging them to a fight, and more often than not you’re left watching cyno beat down opponents in self-defense.

⇢ when people aren’t busy trying to fight him, cyno’s always seen patrolling the campus halls as head of the security committee. you can tell who’s been caught by him before by the way they flinch and avoid his piercing gaze. even many of his admirers are a bit terrified of him, and all they can do is just watch him walk over to you and whisper in your ear. they think you’re in trouble, but in reality, he’s telling you to meet him at the same meeting spot because he wants to show you this rare genius invocation card he just bought.

⇢ no one in his friend group takes him seriously anymore, not when he’s busy challenging all of them to a tcg fight every get-together. they tend to get roped up into his antics, and you can see how boys really will just be boys as the four of them begin to one-up each other into petty competitions. and cyno’s always been the most competitive out of them.

⇢ cyno seems to have a habit of suddenly showing up moments before one of your suitors plans to do something. they might start to sneak into your lockers to steal something when they see cyno leaning casually against the wall with a knowing glint in his eye. or when one of them spikes your drink and cyno unhesitatingly takes your glass and dump it on the floor, without breaking eye contact with the suspect. the guard dog that you don’t know about.

⇢ part of the protective stalker group within your suitors who make sure to follow you from the shadows whenever he has free time. these stalkers are often chill with each other, nodding at each other in acknowledgment whenever they bump into each other in one of their stalking escapades. he keeps a close eye on you at all times, with your security purely his concern and nothing else.

⇢ indifferent to getting his hands bloody. he’s not unreasonable— he knows that he can’t kill someone just because he’s jealous or something like that. he can’t risk doing something that will have an impact on you. but justice has to be served, and when he sees someone hurt you or become a threat to your safety… he just can’t help it. whether it’s mixing nari’s poison or simply giving them a cold, swift death, everything he does is because he loves you so.

[ “hush, there’s nothing to cry about. they’re gone, no one will hurt you. i have served you justice.” ]

— SCHEMING TYPE. kamisato ayato | 神里綾人

[ “oho? it pains me that you’re so wary of me, even after all these years!” ]

⇢ senior ayato who always has that gentle but calculating mask on, socializing with many people but never close to any of them. when people start realizing that you might have caught his interest, they have warned you about him and whatever shady motives he might harbor. but whenever he approached you, he was so kind and generous with his offerings… not that you were fooled.

⇢ he’s always showering you with gifts whenever you’re together like he’s trying to flex his wealth. bump into him at the mall? he tells you to walk with him for a bit, but you leave with a luxury item you eyed for a few seconds. bundles you up in his scarf when you’re feeling chilly, however when you try to return it to him on the next day he just tells you to keep it so casually like the fabric doesn’t cost you your life savings.

⇢ when class isn’t keeping them both apart, thoma is always seen attending to ayato’s side. it’s not a secret that thoma can go to school because the kamisatos are funding his education, so no one really questions it. they do get a little bit suspicious whenever the two seem a little… intimate, but in the end, who really cares?

⇢ you should really heed others’ warnings about ayato, because it’s clear that he’s a dangerous fellow. he seems to know everything about everyone. once, he had threatened your bullies off with a thinly veiled threat regarding their shady pasts. you don’t know how he got hold of such rare information, but it seems that he’s one of the many people at this school with an information network under their fingertips.

⇢ while he does view you with adoration, it’s clear with how he talks to you that he doesn’t view you as his equal. with the way he talks you down sometimes like he’s talking to a pet rather than a fellow student, you sometimes feel a bit… demeaned. but when ayato tucks your hair behind your ear so tenderly, you have to second-guess your apprehensions.

⇢ the difference between you two is clear. he is the elite of the elite and you are… you. and he takes advantage of this without guilt. it starts as off remarks, about how you wouldn’t survive a day in their society, then it transforms into something bigger. before you know it, he’s criticizing your clothes, your posture, your personality… anything to nail in the fact that you. are. different. till you lose your pride and self-worth. till ayato makes sure that you won’t have the willpower to fight back once he begins his schemes.

[ “but i’m not lying, am i? you are different, and we can’t really do anything about that, can we?” ]

— SUSPICIOUS TYPE. baizhu | 白术

[ “another trip to the nurse, i see… if i didn’t know better, i would think you were here to see me.” ]

⇢ senior baizhu is head of the health committee and is often seen helping out at the nurse’s. his kind and gentle nature makes the sterile place feel a lot more comforting and he attends to each patient without complaint. but when you come over, the nurse remarks how baizhu seems a bit more stressed whenever he frets over you. you’re not quite sure… after all, baizhu has always been so caring towards you and everyone else.

⇢ he’s sickly himself, so sometimes he has to rely on others for help. he does seem to ask you for help more so than the others, but you really shouldn’t mind. after all, he’s done so much for you! he’s prone to fainting, thankfully not that severe, but you have to catch him in your arms before he hits the floor. the way he thanks you and softly utters your name has you almost dropping him, and you swear there’s a cheeky grin on his face that’s gone a second after.

⇢ although his reputation is generally favorable, there are whispers that he and his family are involved in shady medical research. baizhu, when asked about these, will always only laugh and shake his head. ‘let them say what they want to say’, he would tell them. ‘what matters is that i’m capable of tending to them when they come to me for help.’ such thoughtful words often erase whatever doubts they have about baizhu and even make them guilty for even falsely accusing him.

⇢ but they’re right, though. they are a big pharmaceutical company, and every massive corporation has its shadows. a solo research that he’s been working on is in the area of immortality. in recent years, he’s been working on it with much more fervor now that he’s met you. back then, his goal for immortality was always directionless, only researching for the sake of curiosity. but now he has a clear goal: to spend eternity with you and for you.

⇢ he’s an expert businessman and your harem members are well aware of that. among them, he’s known to make many shady deals, especially since he’s so knowledgeable in… drugs. he makes a lot of profit from this, but another clear advantage is his time with you. though these rich students could just buy their drugs literally anywhere, no one quite provides the safety of not being caught like baizhu.

⇢ … might make those deals because more often than not, they end up with you in the nurse’s office. whether bruised from the bullying of another suitor or disoriented from some sort of poison, you rush to the nurse before things get worse for you. you’re so smart, he’d praise you as he tends to the wounds. there is a pleasure in bandaging you up, knowing full well that he could easily dig his nails into the cuts and leave you more in need of his help.

— ANXIOUS TYPE. mika schmidt 

[ “they’re very cool but i… maybe i shouldn’t get too close…” ]

⇢ lil bro gets pushed around by the meaner people in his year and he doesn’t even question it. it’s just very easy to take advantage of him, with his eager-to-please personality and his notable ability to do almost anything exceptionally well. it takes him being adopted into the first-year harem group before the bullying dies down (mainly because most of the people there are well-known and powerful). he doesn’t quite understand how they could bond over a person (you) and was originally quite frightened at their almost fanatic worship of you.

⇢ no one would think he’s part of your harem, not with the way he desperately tries to avoid you. in fact, you could count the times you’ve talked to him on two hands. on all times he was a blushing and stuttering mess to the point that he was incoherent. xingqiu seemed to take a kick out of his embarrassment, while aether softly coaxed him into forming a full sentence in front of you. what stuck with you was how he refused to shake your hand, to which xingqiu bowled over laughing. 

⇢ when he got a little bit more comfortable with you, he was still shy albeit not much to the point that he wasn’t willing to offer you help. you’d often bump into each other while you’re on your errand, and he takes half the workload. most of the time, the two of you work in silence, with mika taking frequent glances at you. when you’re done, he says a meek ‘goodbye!’ and sprints off.

⇢ stalks you around school like a little creep, but thankfully not to the point where he follows you home. he’d peek from around a corner, watching you in the distance with wide eyes in admiration. you’re always so hardworking and excellent… it’s no wonder you have so many admirers! he was almost caught by you a few times, but thankfully you’re none the wiser. his stalking is painfully obvious to the other harem members, but they think him harmless enough that they don’t pay him any mind.

⇢ things that you need the most are always miraculously appearing in your bag, locker, table, etc. when you had complained to thoma about not bringing your lunch, later that day you’d open your locker to find a freshly made lunchbox. when you grumble to yourself about running out of correction tape, a pack with the plastic still on appears on your table. you’re perplexed, albeit grateful. after all, this isn’t the first time some creepy shit has happened to you.

⇢ he really really wishes he’d work up the courage to talk to you face to face without having to be so nervous… but he can’t help the jitters whenever you’re just in front of him! your voice has his ears ringing, your scent has him dizzy, and you’re just so, so cool that he feels so small compared to you! how could he ever talk to you like this…! maybe in the future, when mika would be more capable and dependable…

[ “a–aah… how could i talk to them! they’re too…!” ]

[feyascorner]

wish you would look at me

summary. convinced that you’re in love with another, when you approach him with a serious expression, he readies himself for the inevitable—rejection. but is it ever that simple?

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

warnings. light angst, fluff

a/n. this is inspired by the ppl who have love triangles w gale and astarion in act 2 and what he says if you pick him bec when I saw that I almost cried pls let him be happy

If you asked him a few weeks ago, he’d laugh at the mere suggestion that he could ever be jealous of someone like Gale. That blasted wizard couldn't go four steps before begging for a magical shoe or pathetically limping his way behind the rest of the group while you frantically searched for the said shoe. And when he found out the wizard was a few errors away from exploding, somehow Astarion felt even more pity (not really) for the lad.

Yet here he was.

He’s not sure when the hell you and Gale had gotten so chummy, but it rubbed him the wrong way. Even if his expression would never show it. He sips at his wine while Karlach and Wyll continue to chat about God knows what, too busy peering from the corner of his eyes as you lean into Gale’s shoulders to look closer at the book he was holding.

Perhaps the tadpole had finally made you lose your mind. He'd almost dropped his goblet when you denied his invitation to his tent tonight, spouting the excuse that you'd asked Gale to help you with something, and now this?

God knows why you ever found the wizard charming. If Gale could do something, he could too—much better, in fact. He was sure of it.

His grip tightens around the goblet when he hears you laugh.

Sure, his original intentions for approaching you had been less than noble…and he might have seduced you for more selfish reasons than you originally knew, but as much as he hated himself for it, he'd grown rather fond of you. In his own way, of course.

He’d only realized that the anxious squirming in his stomach was not of fear but of affection when you'd defended him from that vile drow at Moonrise Towers. He'd half expected you to ask him to throw himself at her, yet you stood your ground, showing nothing but respect to his own boundaries while you failed to realize that he'd deceived your own.

He truly had no reason to feel this way. He was selfish, he knew, for feeling so possessive because not once had the two of you established being exclusive. Though you'd respected him, you saw him for just that. A friend to respect, and nothing more. Sure, you'd spent a few nights together, but it was a mindless night of passion and he knew he'd continue to be your fling until you found another to truly love. He had just hoped it wouldn't be someone like Gale, of all people…or Wyll…or Shadowheart…or anyone for that matter.

He shakes his head. The wine must be getting to him. Serious relationships aren't a luxury he can afford, he reminds himself, relaxing his shoulders. He’s perfectly okay with being your ally—nothing more or nothing less. Ecstatic, even.

But when Gale flips a page of the book and both of you lean closer again—this time dangerously close—he feels a sharp pain shoot up his hand.

“Uh, Fangs, you alright there?” Karlach stares at the cracked glass in his hand and even he blinks at it in disbelief.

Apparently not.

He sighs irritably, dumping the glass elsewhere. “I’m quite alright. Seems I just need a nice comfortable mattress than a thin bedroll on the ground, but it’ll do for now.”

“Need help patching that up? You're bleeding.”

He almost laughs, if it weren't for the giggle coming from your direction. “Blood’s my specialty, darling, remember?” Without another word, he paces into his tent, closing the flap behind him for the universe signal that screams ‘don’t bother me.’

So when half an hour later, when he no longer hears the crackle of the campfire, he sees your shadow emerge from the other side of his tent flap, he squints.

“Can I come in?” He fails to respond, and hears you shuffle. “Ah, are you asleep?”

At this, he can't help but snort. You instinctively peek inside, and he runs a hand through his hair, sighing in defeat. “If I'd been asleep just how would I answer that question?”

He motions you closer and you take it as a sign to step inside, careful to avoid stepping on any of his belongings before situating yourself in front of him. “It was rhetorical, obviously!”

“Of course,” he doesn't seem convinced, lips curling into a teasing grin. “Now tell me, what brings you to my palace this late at night? Surely not for a cuddle. I'd thought you declined my offer earlier?”

Usually, you'd smile, but instead you only look down at your clasped hands, seemingly in thought. “I needed to talk to you—without everyone else watching.”

The usual brightness to your tone is missing.

Oh, he thinks. You've come to end things with him.

“Ah,” is all he says. He can tell his smile hasn't dropped, but it doesn't feel that way. “I hear you've found a new lover. Perhaps you want to keep yourself for this one, true love? How romantic, darling.”

You frown at this, and he wonders if he’s done something wrong. But it does little to stop his defense mechanisms from springing into action, because he’s immediately slipping into his usual mask, grin stretching wider but never reaching his eyes.

He hates the words coming out of his own mouth as if they taste of poison. Still, his voice is steady, almost teasing. Perks of the 200 years spent shamelessly lying, he supposes. “So, is this the end of our late night trysts? Even though they were an awful lot of fun?”

He doesn’t think he could stand watching you with that damned wizard. He doesn't even want to think about it quite frankly, because all he feels is his chest tighten when he imagines someone else holding you the way he does. And gods, if had to watch Gale’s poor attempt at flirting one more time…

But then again, you'd be with someone who doesn't manipulate you. Someone who doesn't toy with your feelings, or someone who doesn't seduce you for protection.

His smile twitches, and he just braces himself for your response.

“I’d rather be with you.”

He stares at you, eyes wider than its ever been since he'd gotten this damn worm in his brain.

“What? Why?” he blurts, embarrassingly so, before he composes himself again and clears his throat. “I mean, well, I know why—but I thought you'd had something more…with Gale.”

As much as he despises the idea, he'd seen the way you'd laughed with him. And while it was a new experience for him to be fond of another person, he'd found that these feelings had led him to rather you be happy than dragging you down with him. If it meant you wouldn't regret your choice, he’d been willing to deal with it.

So why?

“I want something real with you, Astarion,” you say softly, eyes meeting his. “I don't know if you feel the same way, but Gale and I are better off as friends, and I told him before I came here. And besides, it’d be cruel of me to lead him on while my heart is with another.”

He thinks he might have died again just now. For the first time in decades, he’s actually at a loss for words. “I—if that's what you truly want—we can try. Be lovers, I mean.”

You finally smile at his words, and Gods above if that doesn't lift the excruciating weight of the past few weeks off his shoulders. He feels the warmth of your lips when you lean forward to give him a peck on the cheek, everything happening so fast that his mind is spinning. He snaps back into focus when you pull back.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You could have—should have, done it earlier. With a smile of his own, he leads you back to him, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips. It’s short, and not nearly enough, but it’ll do for tonight.

“Well then, consider yourself wholeheartedly taken then, my dear.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

rejection - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 359

It was long past midnight when Regulus found himself shoved into a closet, James Potter stumbling behind him. Alcohol had made his senses dull long ago, and his normal tendency to keep his mouth shut was fading away. However, even under the influence of one-too-many drinks, mixed with far too little juice, courtesy of Barty, Regulus had enough control to keep his head and pretend to be upset about this pleasant turn of events.

“Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, turning to the boy that he’d been begrudgingly dreaming of for far too long. 

He expected James to make a joke. Pull him in for a quick kiss and be done with it. Perhaps even suggest a good snog just for fun. He did not expect James to whisper, “No,” in a quiet, reserved voice.

“No?” Regulus repeated, the rejection stinging through his drunken haze. “Merlin, Potter, you’ve kissed half the school!”

It was true. Though James hadn’t been in many relationships, he made it clear he had no problem with quick kisses- he was often seen smacking his lips to Sirius’s own or to Remus’s cheek or kissing people on his Quidditch Team in congratulations.

“No, Reg, I just-” James stuttered, sounding miserable.

“No, it’s fine,” Regulus interrupted, upset. “I know you wanted to be here with Evans. That’s quite alright, Potter, I get why you wouldn’t want to kiss me.”

But to his surprise, James brought himself up to his fullest height, pressing his hands to the wall on either side of Regulus’s head, his face serious. “Regulus,” he murmured, speaking slowly as if to make sure his words were correct. “It’s the opposite. Merlin, I- I want- I just,” he sighed. “I don’t want our first kiss to be like this. I want it to be…to be real.”

And Regulus gave a small gasp at those words, unsure if he truly understood. “What? What do you-”

But suddenly, the closet door was pulled open by a completely-sloshed Sirius. “Time’s up, lads! Hope you’re decent!”

And James walked out helplessly, throwing a distressed look back to Regulus, who went to be thinking about those words. Real?

[strwberri-milk]

hello! may i request for a scenario where the LADS boys confessed to the reader for the first time? if you don’t feel like doing all 3,you can just choose whichever one you want to do for ^^

Zayne is nervous. He isn't often nervous like this, not even when he was applying to medical school. Whenever he does things in his life he's always sure that no matter what he does he prepares for it to guarantee the result that he wants. However, when it comes to you he can never quite predict what he'll do around you no matter how much he tries.

He tries to plan a casual day out. He doesn't want to make it seem too out of the ordinary, worried that he'd make things too awkward if they don't go well. To him, it'd be better if the day was an average one so it wouldn't stick out too much if you rejected him.

To him, he doesn't know if you'd ever look at him as more than your friend. He feels like you've far passed the point of ever seeing him as a romantic companion and he was just lucky enough to see you as often as he currently does. He's more than fine existing in this simple life with you for as long as you'll let him.

He confesses his feelings to you over a cup of coffee. It's perfect to him. You've got the flush of laughter on your cheeks, wiping a tear away as you reminisce about a story from your shared childhood. You've never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment, talking about something silly he did and how you're so glad the two of you are still friends.

Without thinking he puts his palm up towards you on the table, not insisting you take his hand but simply offering it when you notice it there. His voice is soft, confession simple but sweet as he tells you that he's loved you from the moment the two of you met. He reassures you that if you reject him nothing will change but he doesn't expect to see you tear up and nod yes so aggressively he's worried he might have to check you for a neck injury.

He barely processes your arms wrapping around his shoulders, hugging him tightly to you as you confess that you've felt the same way for so long. Instinctually his arms wrap around your waist, trying to help you feel comfortable as he thanks you for returning his feelings for him. The two of you spend the rest of the day planning your first real date, fingers tightly intertwined as you both smile softly at each other.

The two of you were just having a casual game night at Xavier's. This was a common occurrence between the two of you and you loved it. Spending time with Xavier in a casual manner was a great way to just forget about the stress of the day. All his furniture was also incredibly comfortable which meant you always found yourself fighting against falling asleep.

It happens to be one of those times, your eyes fluttering shut as Xavier offers you a warm drink. You playfully groan at him, telling him that he's just trying to keep you for the night by enticing you with his fluffy pillows and tasty drinks. He stills for a second before asking if it'd be so bad. He wouldn't mind you spending the night if you wanted to.

You roll your eyes, knowing that you've already crashed in his room once or twice after being too exhausted to make the trek to your floor above his. However, he decides that this is a great opportunity to confess his feelings for you. You look so perfect like this to him, wrapped up and cozy on his couch. He has the sudden urge to make this more permanent, ask you to come and go as you please because knowing that you can be in his space at any time makes him happy.

He wants nothing more than to share his space with you, be able to spend all his spare time with him in quiet, domestic ways. He'll try to make you something to replenish your energy after a long day of work, you'd thank him for trying as hard as he did to make something, then he'd try to tell you not to force yourself to eat it all because he knows he didn't do the greatest job cooking it all.

He kneels down next to you on the couch, gently resting his cheek on your thigh. You look down at him in confusion, not wanting to move too much in case you scare him off. There's something about the resolute look in his eye that makes you take pause, nodding subtly to tell him to tell you whatever it is that he seems to want to tell you.

His confession is simple and to the point. He just tells you that he has feelings for you and he hopes you feel the same way. He doesn't say anything afterwards, simply just waiting for you to say something in response. You're at a loss for words, not sure what to say to him but the gentle touch of your palm against his cheek is confirmation enough for him for now.

Rafayel doesn't really know what to do now that he's decided that he needs to confess to you. He knows that his feelings for you are intense and almost all consuming, his mind constantly on you and his hands always itching to create something in your likeness or something that he thinks you'd like.

Painting is something that comes easier to him than words. He doesn't know how he'd want to confess his feelings for you. Nothing feels like it's the right way to do it - all of it is just...not enough for him. He can't accurately portray the depth of his feelings for you in such a simple manner.

You find him agonising on the floor, staring up at his ceiling with a notebook. You thought that it'd be nice to surprise him, knowing that Rafayel was upset that you were a little too busy to make it over to his place that night. Thankfully, you got out of work early and thought that it'd be fun to visit him regardless. You punch in the key code and easily make it to where he is clearly lamenting, wanting to see if you could decipher the reasoning by reading through the notebook by his head.

He immediately snatches it out of your hand, sitting straight up and pouting at you. You know that when he's like this there's nothing you can do to change his mind from whatever tantrum he's decided to throw. You decide to simply just sit next to him, waiting until he divulges whatever it is that has his mind spinning this time.

You don't expect him to immediately blame you, expecting the typical light hearted insults he throws your way. Your eyes widen in surprise when he starts flipping through the book, quietly humming to himself as he seems to be selecting something. It doesn't take him long to decide that he's frustrated with whatever it contains, rolling his eyes and giving you a cheeky smile.

He tells you that you should let him take you out a romantic dinner so he can tell you how much he cares about you. He just needs a bit of extra time to figure out how he's going to properly going to convey his feelings. You continue to stare at him, not sure what to make of his words but the slight anxiety in his eyes and shaky hands lets you know that he's being serious.

You nod gratefully, smiling at him and telling him how much you'd like it. He definitely goes all out, planning a perfect dinner that's tailored to your tastes at a place where the menu doesn't have a price. The second the two of you are seated he spins a story about how much he loves you and that his life would never be complete without you - you are his muse and he's never been more inspired than when the two of you are together.

He loves the colour that your cheeks flush, memorising the colour to recreate later. When you let him press a kiss to your knuckles and nod shyly he beams at you, promising himself in that instant that he'll make himself worth your love.

[ventique18]

Souvenir (Malleyuu♀️)

Lilia: "You owe these old bones gratitude, lad. It was terribly difficult to take good angle pictures without getting arrested, you see. I had to move quickly at this age for you."

Malleus: "You did well, Lilia! Expect great compensation later. Well then, I shall excuse myself for today."

Lilia: "Excuse yourself? It's almost dinner."

Malleus: "You three take your meal ahead of me."

Lilia: "Alrighty. Just be sure to clean up. It would be quite shameful to take some nasty-smelling cloth to the cleaners--"

Malleus: "What? Are you insinuating something disrespectful to my person, Vanrouge?"

Lilia: "It's quite fine, you know. It's healthy for boys your age--"

Malleus, turning to stomp away: "I am NOT. Doing that."

Sebek: "What... What was that, Lilia sir?"

Lilia: "It's nothing. Your royal highness was just denying he's secretly doing some training."

Silver: "..."

Sebek: "Training? At this hour? Why, my liege is so hardworking! Admirable! What inspiration!"

Sebek, screaming after Malleus: "I WILL FOREVER FOLLOW IN YOUR HONORABLE FOOTSTEPS, MY KING!!"

Lilia, stifling a laughter: "Oh, such innocence."

Malleus was, indeed, not doing what Lilia suggested. What he was doing was far more humiliating you see: staring at his ever-growing photo collection of his beloved, giggling to himself, and rolling on his bed in kilig. He had to overwork the cafeteria ghosts later to make him dinner at two in the morning.

*Note: the original chibi is ToT's Vyn sticker, and Lilia's pose is Yugi.

[buttdumplin]

For my dear sweet 🌙 anon, who asked for a piece in which transmasc reader clarifies his pronouns with the boys.

cw: poly!141 x transmasc!reader, established relationship, complex gender feelings, comfort

word count: 1070

It’s in the kitchen that you gather the courage, “Can we try something?”

Four heads turn to you, sandwich assembly line quickly forgotten. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to speak up, your tummy is grumbling already. But you’ve started, so you should see it through. 

“Good god, keep your pants on. This is serious,” you say, voice growing quiet, “And about me.”

The boys swarm around you, eyes burning and ready. Sitting at the table was supposed to let you watch them as they work on lunch, but their looming turns it almost ominous. The sounds of you cracking your fingers, which you tend to do when you’re nervous, does not go unnoticed. 

Johnny chuckles, trying to keep the mood light, “Maybe shoulda phrased it a little differently, love.”

It took you forever to find the right dining table, one big enough to fit all of you and your plates. Days and weeks turned months as you scoured for the perfect one. But as they take their seats, it feels too small. The air is tight. 

“Do you guys remember that talk we had? About gender and me maybe not feeling wholly like a woman?”

They lean towards you, further dwarfing the table, waiting for you to continue. Your belly feels like it’s boiling, tumbling with nerves. That conversation went well, so surely this one will too, right?  If you take the time to look up at them, you’ll see their soft expressions. Simon hunches, blatantly trying to make himself smaller, as if wanting to create space for you to speak. Kind grins adorn Johnny and Kyle’s faces, remembering the conversation well and trying to be encouraging. John just looks proud. Silence breaks as you take a deep breath.

“I think I’m a guy,” you whisper. 

Smiles spread, bodies still, waiting for more. 

“I’m a guy,” you say louder, their grins coaxing yours out.

Kyle takes your hand in his, squeezing gently, “Watch out lads, I’ve got a boyfriend.”

What starts as a giggle soon overwhelms you, turning into a deep belly laugh and running tears down your cheeks. You cling hard to Kyle’s hand, wiping your face a little sloppy. It’s your first time saying it out loud, and there’s no way you could have predicted how fucking euphoric it would be. A spark’s been lit inside your chest, and you think that this must be what true happiness is. It feels so right, and Kyle’s immediate claim fuels you. Another deep sigh steadies you. The hard part is not quite over.

“I hope this doesn’t…” the words come out slowly, “Doesn’t change anything.” Your hand moves in a wide circle, gesturing at each of you.

Their bodies stiffen, caught off guard. Of everything you could have said, that was not what they expected. Worry melts their posture and brings their shoulders down to droop. John and Kyle exchange glances, failure written on their faces. If they’ve left room for this concern, they’ve clearly done something wrong. Johnny cocks his head, confused because why would that be a question? 

When Simon speaks, he almost sounds exasperated, “We’re all men.”

“Yeah, but-”

“All men,” he cuts you off, eyes locked on yours, challenging you to try again. “Boyfriends, like Kyle said.”

“Boyfriends,” you repeat, grin back in place. 

“Get to confuse the cashier at the grocery even more now,” he winks, relieved to see you smiling again. 

A calm silence settles the room again and easy breathing can be heard from all of you. The sinking pressure is lifted from you, letting you bask in the moment. Everything is okay. Your world didn’t crumble. Boyfriends, they said. Sweat threatens to slip your hand from Kyles, making his grip tighten. The pride on John’s face is loud, his dimples growing more pronounced. Johnny drops his chin into his hands, elbows on the table, an impishness about him.

“Logistics,” he says, “Pronouns, please?”

“He/him,” your voice shy.

He cups his ear, “What? Didn’t catch that.”

“He/him,” you say, fullbodied.

Under the table, he squeezes your knee with support. If you weren’t sitting, you’d be squeezing the life outta them, cracking their backs with the force of your hugs. They didn’t even fucking take a beat to respond, they were so immediately onboard. Darling boys continue to bring warmth into your life, erasing your doubts. Though truthfully, it was the possibility of losing them that you were most scared about.

“Terms?” John asks. 

You hesitate to respond, not having gotten quite this far just yet.

“Sweet boy?” he prompts.

Hearing it makes you gasp, your eyes widening and face burning. It hits sweet in your chest and the pleasure of it is visible. It’s the only confirmation John needs. Easing back into his chair, he crosses his arm with sweet satisfaction. The rest of the boys smirk, taking note, minds filling with more ideas.

Kyle has to clear his throat, and thoughts, before he speaks again, “Who do you want to include in this? How do you want to navigate it?”

“I’ve already told my doctors and it’s in my file,” you say proudly, and Johnny answers with excited whooping.

“He/him pronouns in public?” Kyle continues.

“Yes, please,” you eye your guard dogs. The four of them beam, chests swelling from knowing you have so much faith in their abilities to protect you, to keep you safe. 

“Please tell us if there’s ever a situation in which you don’t feel safe doing so. We play by your word,” he swears.

You nod in response, his words spreading a new and lovely warmth through your body. They must have done some homework after that initial conversation, always wanting to be prepared. And it couldn’t be more fucking soothing. Air returns to the room, bringing in levity once more.

“Lovely lads all around,” Johnny looks at each of you, wicked joy painting his face, “What a lucky bastard I am.”

His toothy smile is infectious, catching the rest of you until your faces hurt from mirth. Of course they were amazing with this, they’ve put so much work into maintaining this relationship. All those late nights working through clarifications, the probing answers and check-ins. And they’re doing the same thing now, meeting you head on. And eager to boot. Sweet boys stay sweet. 

“Well,” you say, giggles bubbling from your lips, “Your boyfriend is hungry, so yall best get lunch done.”

[valdomarx]

Roy’s first month of managing Richmond, he still wakes up at 4 a.m. every morning. 

There’s no reason for it; work doesn’t start until 8 and he doesn't need to do extra training sessions with Jamie any more. But his body can’t break the habit, so he lies in bed and stares at the ceiling.

4 a.m. is when night is over but morning has not quite begun, when the world is quiet and distant and there is room for thoughts which would otherwise be unthought and feelings which would otherwise be unfelt.

-

4 a.m. is Jamie flinging open his front door with a big grin and a stupid head torch, saying, “Morning coach!” and bounding off with such enthusiasm that Roy has to scramble to keep up with him.

-

4 a.m. is the team finally calling it a night after celebrating a tough win, Isaac and Colin with an exhausted Sam between them, Jan Maas giggling, and Dani coming tearing out of the club yelling “Back to the hoteeeeeeeeeel!” and everyone running joyfully after him. Everyone except Jamie, who is leaning against the wall of the club and watching Roy with a hint of a smile.

“Fucking what?” Roy growls.

“You’re doing good. At this manager thing, I mean. The boys like it when you come celebrate with us.”

-

4 a.m. is sunrise over Richmond Park, the trees swaying in the breeze, deer leaping away in the distance, a blanket of silence muffling London’s ever-present hum of traffic. It is Jamie’s contentment as he runs, the way he springs forward to meet every step, with the rays of the rising sun painting streaks of red and gold through his hair.

-

4 a.m. is the time the team bus breaks down and strands them in a field in the middle of nowhere, and most of the lads are asleep in their seats but Roy finds Jamie sitting a little distance away on a grassy bank, looking up at the sky.

“Proper good view of the stars here, innit?”

Roy cranes his neck to take in the view of bright white points splashed across the darkness. He hums and lowers himself to sit next to Jamie.

“That one’s Rigel.” Jamie points. “And over there, that’s Betelgeuse. About to go supernova and everything. It’s gonna explode and take out everything around it, but after that, it’ll leave behind a cloud of dust n shit which’ll make new stars. Mental, right?”

Roy glances at him sideways. “How d’you know all this shit?”

Jamie shrugs one shoulder. “Me mum used to take me to the observatory as a kid. Said it was good for my cultural development. But I think I just liked the view.”

Jamie is staring up at the stars, but Roy is looking at Jamie’s face, soft, open, and full of wonder.

-

4 a.m. is a stupid time to be doing this. Roy stands in front of Jamie’s door and hesitates before knocking. Who the fuck shows up out of the blue at someone’s house at this hour? But he’d woken up early again and the world had seemed grating, like something important was missing, and almost against his will his feet had carried him here.

He knocks and, much quicker than he expects, the hallway light flicks on and footsteps thump down the stairs. Jamie opens the door fully dressed and wide awake, and beams.

“Morning coach! You want a cup of coffee?”

Roy blinks. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here at this ridiculous time?”

Jamie's forehead wrinkles. "I'm sure you've got a good reason."

“I couldn’t sleep. Can’t sleep, I mean. I still wake up at 4 a.m. every morning."

Jamie nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

"I -" Roy squirms, hating feeling so visible. "I miss this."

Jamie looks up at him, surprised. 

"I miss you."

Jamie blushes, then fidgets with his sleeves. "You see me every day."

"It's not the same though. I miss starting my day with you."

"Oh." Jamie's cheeks are blotched with pink. "We could go for a run together? Do some training?'

It's tempting. Roy could say yes, and they could jog around the park, and it could be like it was before. A little piece of familiarity in a season of changes. 

But that's not what Roy is here for.

"I don't want to train," he says, and Jamie's face falls.

He steps closer, right up to the doorway, a mere few inches between them. He reaches out, stopping himself just before his hand lands on Jamie's chest. 

He looks up, meets Jamie's eye, makes sure he knows what Roy is offering. His hand meets Jamie's chest, solid and warm. "I want something else."

"Oh." Jamie scarcely moves, has to remind himself to breathe by the looks of it, and then one of those soft, beautiful 4 a.m. smiles spreads across his face and he steps back to open the door. "Then I guess you'd better come in."

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

Wayne comes home one day to Eddie behaving unusually - loudly narrating everything every time he leaves his room, playing his music quieter than usual but making abrupt loud noises when he’s in his room, checking on Wayne every ten minutes or so to make sure he’s enjoying his shows and asking if he wants tea, and generally bearing his biggest, wettest puppy dog eyes.

Now Wayne’s done this song and dance a few times, so after a few hours he gets up and makes his way to his nephew’s door, takes a moment to stop and listen-

And sure enough, he can hear the hushed whispers and giggles. Heaving a sigh, Wayne raps his knuckles against the flimsy wood. It’s immediately met with a flurry of scrambling from the other side.

To Eddie’s credit, it doesn’t even take until Wayne’s count of 10 before the door swings open, revealing his very ruffled nephew sporting a sunny grin and doing his best to look like he’s not taking up the entirety of the doorway on purpose.

“Alright, what’re you hidin’ in here this time?” Wayne asks, glancing at the bed. It’s a favourite hiding place of Eddie’s - where he’d hidden the stray cat, the raccoon, and any number of other strays he’s picked up.

“Hiding? I -uh - what are you talking about?” Eddie says it smoothly enough, but he’s eyes dart to the left briefly before he catches himself and looks back at Wayne, pulling his hair in front of his face in a display of nerves. Wayne glances over. The closet this time then.

“I ain’t born yesterday kiddo,” he says, shaking his head. “Now why don’t you quit bullshittin’ and open up that there door”

Eddie’s gaze follows his gesture to the closet, and then he turns back to Wayne, giving an indignant huff and puffing up like he’s gearing for a fight.

Wayne meets his gaze with an even one of his own and, after a moment, Eddie deflates. "Fine," he huffs and makes his way to the closet, shooting Wayne betrayed wounded-bird looks over his shoulder. Wayne just crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

He's prepared for a lot of things, but what he's not expecting is for Eddie to swing the cupboard door open to reveal some fancy-looking lad, looking sheepish as all get out.

"Ed-" he says, slightly lost for words. Eddie and closet-boy exchange a glance, and Wayne feels shock go through him as he suddenly places that face. "Is that... is that the Harrington boy?"

Immediately, a guilty look crosses Eddie's face and Wayne groans. "Jesus H. Christ," he groans, putting his hand over his face.

When he looks up again, Eddie is giving him that wide-eyed pleading face of his that always comes with the strays. "Eddie, he ain't some stray you can just take in!" He protests.

Eddies face hardens just a little with that stubbornness he got from his mother. "C'mon Uncle Wayne. His parents are terrible when they even bother to be around!” he argues. "And I mean it’s probably for the best that they’re not there because they’re the worst kind of people but it's almost Christmas and he can’t just be there alone on Christmas! Did you raise me like that Wayne? Did you?"

Harrington seems to get past his surprise at Eddie’s sudden rant and he frowns, opens his mouth to protest. Eddie, apparently sensing this, claps a hand over his mouth and turns to Wayne , his righteous indignation switching right back to his best puppy-dog eyes cranked to full effect at Wayne.

And Wayne... well, he's never been able to say no to any of the strays Eddie's brought home yet.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Sagau but the reader has a dragon tail and is a

They're very serious looking and only make a very intimating looking.

But the moment someone compliments them they get flustered and just tells them to move on.

But everyone witnesses their grace's tail wagging.

Lisa, kaeya or childe would definately tease them.

Sorry if my grammar is bad, english isn't my strongest language.

Dragon!Reader: Looks Serious But is A Softie?! 👀

Okay, first of all: the fact that you're a dragon to begin with? I'm pretty sure Liyue just got a huge promotion. Their archon is a literal dragon! Their Divine Creator blessed their Geo Archon with the wrath that challenges the gods he faced in the Archon War!

Honestly, Zhongli would be amazed to know that the Creator is a dragon themself. Would legit admire you and see you as their idol or something.

Oh, but this is just the start. You were helping Sara at good hunter to collect some meat because you were bored. She greatly compliments your efforts, and you try to brush it off, play it cool. It would've worked if it hadn't been your darn traitorous tail wagging like a happy puppy behind you, showing the world the unnecessary fact that you were flustered.

With this in mind....guess who told Lisa, Kaeya, and Childe...

(Quick Disclaimer: Might Be OOC!)

Lisa

The moment she heard the little incident at Good Hunter, she just had to try it herself! In a respective manner of course—she wouldn't dare nor want to do something that'll make the Creator angry! Just a little tease—surely, the creator won't be too mad?

She will probably invite you to help in the library, sorting out books or double checking the list of checked out books, making sure their not overdue.

When you're done the task, what happens, you may ask?

"My, thank you so much for your help, Your Grace~ You surely have a sharp eye even for such minor chores..." She says this with that teasing glint in her eyes, and most importantly: that smirk when she's being very sussy flirty.

The moment she sees the way your tail flaps around behind your back as your impassive face responds with something casual, this woman knows she's hit the jackpot.

"Aw...Your Grace, you truly are very adorable."

Kaeya

This man might be just as bad as Lisa, except much more sly than—ahem, flirty.

His excuse of seeing you becoming the big softie of a dragon was to ask you, of all things, to visit the gosh darn tavern for a drink or two. And, to his delight, you agreed.

It was also a good thing Charles was manning the tables tonight, because Diluc would give him the death glare for bringing someone such of high importance to get wasted with him.

But naturally, and as Kaeya suspected, you're persistence to help your people took over, and you instead spent half of the night helping Charles clean the tables. So, naturally, when Charles insists you relax, Kaeya's gotta compliment you.

"Your Grace, you sure do know how to keep things organized. That much is to expected by someone as high as you, though—must've been a piece of cake." You confirm that it was, but even with the that, your draconic tail does that little dance behind your back for the whole world to see how happy you were to be complimented for your hard labors.

This man will CHUCKLE at the sight, but won't comment on it. But he will give you that smirky smirk with THE eye that says it all. You groan into your palms again—your tail really seems to like betraying you, honestly.

"What, Your Grace? Don't be so shameful about yourself—honestly, I quite envy how cute you are." Get red-faced, bois. This captain will make you flustered till the end of your days.

Childe

The moment he hears about the incident in Mondstadt by his gossiping Fatui Agents, man's just got to try it.

So, he does the most logical, least-suspecting thing to request your presence: challenge you to a fight.

Yes, the others called him crazy for it, but does this mad lad care? Nope! This guy wants to see your tail flap in joy, that's all! Besides, it's not like he sees it often since Zhongli hides his draconic traits from the whole wide world.

So you accept the invitation to spar with him, and—do I need to tell you? You guys sparred for a good few hours. Unlike in-game playable Childe, you now have to deal with more of a in-game Boss-like Childe instead, with how many moves this guy has.

After a good sparring match or two, you guys decide to take a break. Mainly you, since you are legit dying right now.

"Good job, Your Grace! Your combat skills are as great as ever! Much expected, haha!" Yep, he delivers what his true intention is. And yes, your tail does the little dance it does, no matter how much you try to calm it and shrug it off as a daily thing to get used to.

This mad lad, like a true mad lad would, would grin. Very widely. He knows he won this "battle"—man is ecstatic about it.

But he is a little sympathetic if you act annoyed about it—it reminds him of what his younger siblings would do. If you're really upset about it, he'll try to cheer you up.

Look out for more sparring matches, he's probably pulling this stunt until you're immune to such things or you get your tail under control.

"Don't be upset, Your Grace! I'm sure if my little brother were here, he would find you cool no matter what!"

Aaandd that's it! The end of the headcanons! Hope y'all enjoyed—see you around! :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Legit the moment I open up tumblr, and I realized I made it to 100+ followers, I nearly screamed LOL. Did not expect to make it this far. Thank you all so much!

I now have an info page, if you wish to request :) Be sure to follow the rules and all that—oh, and it might get updated sooner or later. We'll see how it goes.

Check The Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Mailbox is Open!

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 4: Love

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Here be the fourth chapter of the rework - you’ll all recognise this one! There’s some minor changes made to flow on with the previous stuff, but beyond that, it’s the OG third chap. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs​, my slap daddy lobster Ange, for reading through this chapter for me and making sure I’m not uploading total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, objectification of women, age gap.

Daemon supposes it is true what they say about Targaryens—that they are proud and violent and easy to incite to desire and madness. He lives up to the name, he supposes.

Now that his want has come to light, he cannot erase you from his mind. He withdraws to his chambers for the next few days, making his presence around the keep as scarce as he can so that he might avoid you. The prospect of looking at you—your wide-eyed innocence, trusting open expression, still his littlest girl beneath all that ripening—and recalling the depths of his degeneracy each time he meets your eye seems an insurmountable task.

But a new issue arises. He finds he quite literally cannot rid the image of you from his musings, the enemy that is his own thoughts discovering some new wretched path to you in all he does to seek distraction. His books remind him of your love for old Valyrian histories and poetry, of sitting with him, a great tome spread out further than your little arms could extend and reciting the letters in a halting tongue. Training with the sword strikes memories of how you’d fiddle with the pommel of Dark Sister whenever you stood by him, alerting him to your presence far easier than his own eyes ever could. Attempting to govern a bout of cyvasse is utterly dull with only himself as an opponent, and—blast it all—prompts reminiscence of how you’d choose to sleep soundly in his lap as a tot, wet smacking mouth darkening the front of his doublet as he’d match minds against Viserys with only one hand free, the other keeping you chained to slumber with gentle pats to the bottom.

Resistance is fruitless. And so, he gives into the desire. For the first time in years, he unfastens his breeches and takes his cock out with the intention of spending in his own hand.

How mightily I have fallen, he thinks drolly, spitting in his palm, grasping his shaft and allowing his imagination to conjure the likeness of sweet eyes and full mouth and shapely breasts, a precious little gift just waiting for the right recipient to unwrap and play. He thinks of your soft little hands and soft little voice, how darling you would look with those same hands on his cock and your stare wide and trusting, whispering his name in naïve question as he coaxes you to his completion, gifting you a pretty pearl necklace for a pretty little girl—

“Fuck!” he moans, seed splattering over his fist.

It stains his breeches and drips over his boots, inspiring sudden gladness that he hadn’t thought to revisit Sirille’s whore or seek out another of his old haunts, for not bending some meaningless fuck over and exerting his lusts on a cunt worth mere coppers in coin. The speed of his release would have been thoroughly humiliating. Wiping his hand distastefully upon his shirt, he wonders at how best to resolve his growing problem.

It is a problem. How you have unmanned him! How insipid it is to long for a girl of seventeen as though he is some pockmarked, upstart lad of lesser standing! If he were dull-witted, his ire at himself might very well drive him to rail at you for the manner in which you’ve ensorcelled him. But doing so will not aid his particular malady.

The brothel…Perhaps the answer lies in the past. The instant he thinks it, he wishes he hadn’t.

No. He shouldn’t ruin you. He will not ruin you. Besides, you had been deterred rather than encouraged by even his lightest provocations, his half-hearted flirtation failing utterly. In the face of his veiled innuendos and covetous stares, you had retreated into yourself, pulling away and levelling him with that soft, reproaching little mouse-glare of yours. Any other maiden and he would double down, pursue until he had overrun them and given them little choice but to lift their skirts and let him steal away their virtue. Yet, this brings him distinct discomfort. He cannot abide the notion of despoiling you so ignobly.

Daemon wonders at the hesitation, for it had brought him little pain to do the same to his eldest niece. He considers that because it had always been his intention to shore up his own succession—by either wedding Rhaenyra or destroying her reputation, getting her out of his way—the thought of doing the same to you had never crossed his mind.

Hm. What can he do, then? Wait for this—this feeling—to pass? He is the blood of the dragon, true; and, like the flame from which those winged beasts were born, he burns hot and bright and stinging—until the flame flickers away, doused by the merest brush of air or touch of water. In moments of want, it becomes a need, something he would kill and die to possess, and then another obsession takes hold. Men of passion—men like him—are so rarely faithful to their fancies.

Alas, you are no ordinary woman. It stands to reason that his lust is no ordinary yearning. You are everything he has ever envisioned in an ideal bride. The right bloodline. The right family name. The right temperament. These things alone…

It does not even take into consideration the simplest fact—that, though time and circumstance has changed so much, there is nothing that can destroy his deepest affection for you, his sweet little niece.

    No closer to devising his way forward, Daemon does what he can to evade encountering you. It is hardly an effort, for you seem to perpetually cycle between the same activities and yet, simultaneously, are nowhere to be found. He shuns the obvious places—the library, your Hightower siblings’ rooms, Rhaenyra’s solar, the courtyard, the garden—and even deigns to add the training yard and the kitchen to the list. Luckily, he seems to have either frightened you off or had simply chanced upon a rare occurrence in which you were discoverable.

After four more mornings, he is unsurprised to see you absent once more from your father's table to break your fast. You have missed the previous occasions, too. A sennight and a day had been more than enough time for him to decide that he detested these mealtimes. Quite obviously an attempt on his brother's part to foster unity between the squabbling factions in his family, he is usually faced with the choice of either indulging in the bickering of the children or pretending he gives a fuck about anything the Hightower woman has to say. Not that Her Grace has been particularly interested in engaging him in conversation. Instead, she carefully plays the part of ignorance, watching him from directly across the table with her beady little eyes each time he so much as moves. Loathsome bitch. She must have a magical cunt for Viserys to have managed to pump four of those wretched spawn into her.

This is why he is startled when Rhaenyra and Laenor enter with their two boys, followed swiftly by you and that idiot Cole. You have an air of irritation about you, as though you had been interrupted at your leisures when your elder sister had come to collect you for the first proper meal you would see in days.

The sight of Rhaenyra—as lovely a sight as it is—sends a weak thud of hurt through his chest. But it is the sight of you that inspires a far greater reaction.

You are no less striking in the morning light that streams in from the open balcony. Garbed in a short-sleeved gown of powdered blue and wild hair pulled back in a simple braid, the adjustments only serve to emphasise the parts of you that had changed in the ten years since he had last seen you. Half-convinced that his first meeting with you was an inexplicable fever-dream sent by the gods to taunt him, he is once more besieged by the sight of your rose-bloom lips, your bare throat—why the fuck do you not wear jewels to cover up all that exposed flesh, the sight is positively lewd—and charming little tits peaked in maiden's flirtation. The dress does little to hide your endowments from his rapacious gaze, for all its modest bodice and looser fit.

He does his best not to let his turmoil play out on his face as you move further into the room. Laenor drops into the empty seat beside him, narrowing his eyes in a manner that suggests he’s noticed where Daemon’s attention has been focused. The lad’s fair to suspect him—his exploits in the Stepstones hadn’t been limited to warfare, after all.

“Father, Daemon,” Rhaenyra greets, settling herself down next to her husband.

He finds the noted absence of greeting to the Hightower woman wildly entertaining. While it is not lost on her, the queen has deigned to overlook the arrival of her once-best friend. Instead, she turns to survey her ailing king in an affectation of care. He decides it is only polite to return his eldest niece’s salutation. Rhaenyra smiles in response to his well-wishes, an acknowledgement of his words and nothing more.

“Good morrow, daughter!” Viserys says to his eldest, looking fondly down the table as his grandsons are settled in at their seats. His gaze moves to you. “Ah, child! We haven't seen you in an age!”

He has brightened in excitement at his first glance of you, and you smile sweetly at him as you pass by to press a kiss of greeting to your father's balding head.

“My apologies, Papa,” you say to Viserys warmly. “I have been ever so preoccupied with my studies, you see. I did not wish to fall behind.”

“Studies, my girl? I had rather thought you were avoiding Lord Denys again!”

He has to grit his teeth at the mention of that idiot. What in the seven hells is Viserys thinking, allowing a lackwit like the Rose of Highgarden anywhere near you? To think that he’d be willing to ship you off to so ordinary an existence as the Lady Tyrell.

The blood of the Freehold, forced to mingle with farming stock. What dishonour!

At the mention of the lord, your earnest little stare transforms into a myriad of quick-vanishing demonstrations of your distaste for the man. Daemon is savagely glad to see it.

“That, too.” You beam when your father laughs. It is a most pleasing expression on your features, a guise that erases the lingering pensiveness clinging to you like a second skin—one that you should always bear.

Would that he could replace the gloom that reclaims you so soon after.

“Darling.”

Alicent frowns at him from her position at his brother’s side. She appears to have caught him looking, not that he cares overmuch for her judgement. It intrigues him that she appears to be addressing you. He had thought the family quite divided by old and new—and as Aemma’s last living child, that places you firmly in the former category.

She smiles up at you, gesturing you toward her. “Come sit by me.”

Clearly, his assumption is incorrect. You happily proceed around your father to sit in the empty seat beside the queen, placing you next to the youngest one, Daeron. He can only remember the name due to its similarity to his own. You grin fondly down at the boy, and it is easy to imagine you doing the same one day with his own son. You ruffle his hair when he makes an exclamation of your name, disregarding the snide glances offered to you by the older two. Ah, that is more like it.

“What are you working on currently, sister?” Rhaenyra interrupts his musings from next to Laenor, wordlessly reminding young Lucerys to pause his chatter while eating.

His mouth upturns when he sees you brighten, stopping in the middle of selecting fruits and cheese and pastries to pile on your plate. The shame feels like a distant memory as he watches you, dish aloft in your hand while you enthusiastically turn to engage with your older sister.

“I have been consulting with Ser Lysan on writing a compendium of the Dothraki language,” you say excitedly.

Who the fuck is Ser Lysan? And what in the seven hells is she doing learning Dothraki? Daemon’s brow raises sceptically as he mulls over the fact that you—a sweet little untouched princess—appear to have dealings with horse-fucking, barbarous brutes in the east.

“There is some debate as to how we will proceed,” you add, carefully side-eyeing the oldest of the Hightower boys as he snickers at your pronouncement, “as our letters do not correspond correctly with the phonetics of their speech. We will have to either take creative liberties or devise additional symbols to signify these sounds.”

Perhaps he has woefully underestimated you. You seem to possess an intellect that may well be formidable—at least when it comes to your philosophies and languages. A fascinating paradox of a girl, he thinks, to be so clever and unknowing all at once. For all your book learning, there is much about the world you lack understanding of. It is tempting to remedy this in the most depraved manner possible.

Not here. Not now.

“That sounds… interesting.”

Rhaenyra sounds anything but interested. Does anyone take interest in your pursuits? Anyone at all? Looking around the table at the uncertain faces of those you call family, it appears not. No wonder you seem so alone.

“Dothraki, of all the languages to learn?” he asks. “An interesting pursuit for a princess.”

 You make direct eye contact with him, arranging your features into a facade of polite courtesy. It is closed off, withdrawn, and you return your plate to its place upon the table.

“I am learning, yes.” You absent-mindedly reach across the little one beside you to remove a silver-handled knife from the second-eldest boy—Aemon, is it not?—and place it out of his reach. It is a good call. He had been poking the surface before him with the tip, gouging small divots into the wood. You disregard his protestations, continuing your line of thought. “I would not claim to be proficient, however. It is a complex language, and I have not studied it for long enough to consider myself fluent.”

“It is a savage language.” The eldest of the queen’s sons has an expression fixed in what Daemon can only assume is meant to be a look of disdain. As ugly as the boy is, the effect is rather lost on present company. “No wife of mine will occupy herself with such things.”

This one too? Unbelievable. It would make more sense to betroth you to your brother than to the Lord of Highgarden. If only the brother in question wasn’t so… pathetic. Pathetic now—but when he becomes a man, a true peril to any chance she may have at happiness.

He swallows back bile at the thought. However would you survive being bound to a sneering wretch who sought to stifle any joy you might experience, and all for the sake of control? It is too harsh a fate for someone so pure.

You frown softly, shoulders squaring off in your disapproval. “Just because their culture is different, Aegon”—ah, yes! No wonder he is naught but a disappointment with a name such as the Conqueror’s to try and fail to live up to—“does not mean they are savages.” 

His nose flares with the necessity of suppressing his own amusement. Such guilelessness, such gullibility! You really are too sweet.

“They fuck their horses, don’t they?” Aegon asks disparagingly, echoing exactly what he had been thinking only moments prior.

The younger boy titters beside him. You open your mouth to respond, brow wrinkled in affront, when the queen cuts across you.

“Aegon! That’s enough!” she says sharply, and the boy abruptly withdraws, tucking his head down and quietly resuming his meal with a muttered apology.

As a lull falls across the remaining occupants of the room, all that can be heard is the scraping of utensils over dishware and the hissing admonitions of the queen to her eldest, whispered reminders of how princes ought to treat those they are courting. Given that the recipient is three places down from her—and you are, in fact, between them—her words are neither quiet nor tactful. Your head bows, lower lip quivering only once, pretending not to hear as you pick apart the remnants of food on your plate.

“An intellectual, my daughter is.” Viserys breaks the stillness with forced joviality, engaging him in conversation once more.

He had paid little attention to the spat—no doubt avoiding his fatherly responsibilities as he has done since time immemorial, long since used to ignoring the conflict that sparks beneath his very nose. Daemon is simultaneously fond and contemptuous of his brother, the years having done little to change the spinelessness so central to his personality as man and monarch both.

“Always learning something new,” the man says merrily, “always needing books and tutors to satisfy that mind of hers. She would be a maester of the Citadel, methinks, had she been born a man.” 

She would be Prince of Dragonstone if she had been born a man, Daemon snorts to himself, and I’d not need be sitting here with the Hightower bitch and her offspring.

“Papa!” A pretty flush reddens your exposed ears and the apples of your cheeks.

He trails the path of the blush as it spreads to your chest, travelling down to kiss the shy swell of your breasts under that damned raised neckline. He has never hated an item of clothing quite so much as he does your gown.

“That Ser Lysan Marios of hers,” the king explains. “A man from the Free Cities, do you know? She was ever so delighted when I solicited his services.”

A tutor, then. But what is his place in your life? This is what Daemon wishes to know.

“He is a respectable gentleman,” Rhaenyra says, no doubt having witnessed his perplexity. “Though it’s quite amusing, really. For an old man like him, he is rather adept at making his way about the keep unnoticed. You’d think someone with such poorly knees would be easier to find.”

He hadn’t truly believed your tutor to harbour untoward feelings for you, but relief suffuses him, nonetheless. An elderly man with weak joints could hardly muster the energy nor stamina to seduce his young charge—especially a burgeoning little nymphet like you, so reserved and restrained, desperate for release from the bonds of propriety. His gut tightens at the image he has conjured.

“We always leave a note, ’Nyra,” you say, your posy-petal lips frowning.

“And by the time I send someone to find you, you have moved off elsewhere.”

You hum an agreement, picking still at the remainder of your meal. Daemon spies the Hightower woman’s pointed glare over you, the quailing of the eldest boy. The lad clears his throat and turns to you.

“Sister. Would”—he pauses to clear his throat again—“would you… care to take a turn around the garden with me? At, er—the hour of the boar?”

How the fuck has he managed to make it worse?

Daemon almost preferred his snobbish spite over this pitiful attempt at flattery. If he’d been uncertain as to the boy’s success at winning you over, he’s not anymore. There’s scarce to be any maiden who would accept such a snivelling offer.

You appear rather baffled. “Oh. I appreciate the offer, Aegon… but I am afraid I have plans then.” A polite smile of contrition curves your lips.

Your brother does not like this. With a barely restrained sneer, he begins to respond. “But—”

“—I am intending to visit Athfiezar,” you cut across, placid as ever. “You are welcome to accompany me there, if you wish?”

The boy blanches. “No!” He says, shaking his head.

You make a soft noise of acknowledgement, allowing your focus to drift to the small one immediately beside you. And, with that, the conversation ceases entirely.

Rhaenyra was right in asserting her inability to pronounce the name of your feral mount. The guttural inflections in your honey-sweet voice speak to something wild and untamed, a spark of the magic that had brought his line to life so long ago.

“Interesting name.” Daemon is unable to help himself. You blink disconcertedly at him as he speaks. It is the second time in as many occurrences that he has seen your countenance alight with startlement at his address. A nervous little morsel, she is. “A Dothraki word, is it?”

He can only assume this. Based on his few dealings with the horde of savages during his time in Essos, the word sounds similar to the harsh utterings of the khalasar.

“Yes,” you say with a pleased look. “It means ‘love’.”

What a name for such a monstrous creature. A little girl christening her first barn cat, all soft skin and sweet smile and doe-eyed delight. You squint at Rhaenyra when she chuckles softly. It seems he isn’t the only one to have such a thought.

You turn back to him. “He does not take well to others, I fear.”

That is an understatement. From all his existing knowledge of the wild leviathan, from his experiences with the beast growing up, from tales he had gleaned from around the capital, from accounts of old acquaintances and the from gossip of his family, your dragon—the fucking Cannibal, and isn’t that a story he’d like to hear—is an utter lunatic, as unhinged and vicious as he always was. Except, it seems, with you.

“A right bastard, too,” Laenor murmurs under his breath, just within Daemon’s earshot. “Do you know how many keepers we’ve had to replace since that thing came to King’s Landing?”

He can imagine. Dragon, livestock and human alike, the dragon had little care for what it slayed, seemingly fulfilling itself on the blood-and-gore high of butchery. The thought of laying eyes upon such a creature thrills him to the bone.

You levy him with an inquisitive look, head tilted slightly. “Would you like”—you hesitate—“would you like to meet him, Uncle?”

Only a fool could refuse a proposition like that. Not in the least because of the Cannibal—well, so few would ever have the opportunity to come close to the beast and live to tell the tale. Through you, it may well be possible that he would get that chance.

But, moreover, how can he say no to your timid, earnest entreaty, the proverbial hand of offering held out and just waiting for yet another rejection? Hope draws your brows in a pleading arch, lips wet and parted, and it calls to mind a much younger version of you, far freer in begging for his attention. Who could possibly deny you?

His mouth settles the matter before his mind has decided. “I’d be glad to,” he says, warmed by the sunny beam that stretches across your face, bringing bright light to your eyes and a merry flush to your skin.

It occurs to him then that he has just invited himself to an entire span of unaccompanied time alone with you. You—the object of his waking reveries, his darkest deliberations, his filthiest wants.

Perhaps this will be what finally drives him mad.

The wheelhouse ride is a revelation—and not quite for the reason he expected.

You are surprisingly easy to converse with; high praise, coming from him. He is not one to enjoy casual discussion, finding most people utterly insipid, especially those of suitable station. Princes and lords and magisters are always far too concerned with crowing of their riches to be of much interest—and the women are hardly worth engaging with unless it is to persuade them to drop their smallclothes and let him bend them over in some abandoned hall.

It might just be his fixation upon you that makes you so fascinating. He cares not for the reason. Instead, he chooses to enjoy the rarity of the moment, listening to you talk about the weather, the food, the changes made to the city since his departure.

“We have been getting an increase in grain from the Reach, I believe, in return for silks and spices from Driftmark,” you say, filling the transport with the dulcet tones of your pretty little voice.

He wonders at how you have come to know this information.

“Papa allows me to be his cupbearer during small council sometimes.” Pride overtakes your expression. “I am not present often, but it is nice when he asks.”

It is expected of Rhaenyra as the heir to attend in her youth, but no such presumption falls upon you. How interesting that Viserys has chosen to allow his second daughter to be involved in the running of the realm, small a part as that may be! Daemon had not thought his brother observant of you in any capacity whatsoever. In this, he’s happy to be wrong.

When you arrive at the Dragonpit, your faithful guard-dog Cole is waiting for you, having ridden ahead to secure the location for his young charge. Daemon rolls his eyes as the knight offers you his arm, assisting you down the steps and to the ground. You gratefully thank the white cloak—he has to clench his jaw tightly to resist saying something snide at the look of slavish devotion on the whoreson’s face—and take out leather gloves of deep black, a stark contrast to the blood red of your riding habit. You wear the Targaryen colours exceedingly well.

“Now, Uncle,” you say seriously, turning to him. “I do not usually meet Athfiezar at the Pit, so it is imperative that you do as I say.”

It makes sense that the dragon seeks refuge outside of the Dragonpit. The beast did not seem one to willingly enshrine itself in chains. His brow quirks in entertainment at your command, a war general in the shape of a little girl with a woman’s body, but tips his head regardless.

“Of course.” He has no wish to die for the sake of pride.

The dragonkeepers have already begun to shift nervously in the open, unprotected space. What follows illuminates him as to why. He is startled when you stop in the middle of putting your gloves on to place your fingers at your mouth and release a loud whistle. The sound echoes toward the cavernous entrance of the building before you and sets off a cacophony of ringing screeches and roars from within. He cringes as the blast of noise assaults his ears and wonders what in the hells you were intending by doing such a thing.

Suddenly, a low rumble resonates through the air. He casts around for the origin of the din, seeing nothing cresting the horizon. Out of nowhere, there is an unearthly shriek. A hulking black shape tumbles from the cover of cloud, rapidly gaining size as it approaches.

The dragonkeepers bark panicked orders to each other, rushing to clear the space before his little niece. “Inkot selās! Inkot selās!” Move back! Move back!

Daemon wonders through a wave of sheer panic if he ought to follow the keepers’ example and dive for shelter, dragging you with him. The dragon isn’t showing any signs of slowing down. It is now close enough for him to make out the grim scores of scars marking its head, the eerie verdigris orbs glowing ominously within its immense skull, the sheer musculature forming one of the largest specimens of Old Valyria alive today. The dragon is quite dissimilar to the other Targaryen specimens, he notes, stouter and stockier and yet more serpentine than the winged creatures the Conqueror had brought to Westeros some hundred years before. He wonders if it is true that this one is from a different lineage entirely. He had never gotten close enough to survey it before now.

The great lumbering thing alights upon the dome of the Dragonpit, crawling with surprising agility to the edge of the structure and peering down. It sends a clatter of rubble spilling from the sides of the great dome as it crackles under the weight of it. At the sight of the keepers huddled behind dragonglass shields, curled to the ground in vain protection of themselves, the Cannibal opens its mouth and screams. It is a haunting, hair-raising resonation that sends chills down his spine and near freezes the blood in his veins.

“Athfiezar!”

His gaze, having been transfixed upon the most terrifying entity he had witnessed in years, shifts to you. You have stepped forward, seemingly without a care, arm outstretched and calling happily up to the reptilian brute. He is about to pull you back toward him when he observes what might be the most deranged, impossible scenario imaginable.

The dragon stops.

It stops.

“Kesīr māzīs, Athfiezar!” you call again, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet. Come here!

Emitting a deep keening, its eyes split to you, pausing its rampage as it takes in the sight of you below. Daemon huffs an exhilarated laugh as the winged serpent cocks its head, pauses, and then begins scaling its way down the stone formation. It is heedless of the damage it is doing to the establishment as it tears its way through rock like parchment, wiggling down to touch down upon the ground before the mouth of the Pit. The beast is surprisingly light upon its feet for its sheer size, second only to the great she-dragon, Vhagar.

He can only watch on in amazement as you stride forward to meet your mount. The famed Cannibal bends its massive frame down so that you may lay your hand upon its snout and coo something tender and indeterminable from a distance away. The wyrm growls softly, slowly pressing itself against you as you talk. The dragonkeepers have not yet moved from their protective stances, spaced out around the yard and cowering behind obsidian safeguards.

What the fuck.

And then, you are walking back toward him, an air of contentment unlike any he had witnessed about you emanating from your person and echoed in the radiant joy on your face. With your giant beast as a formidable backdrop, you look every inch a Targaryen conqueror. It is a most unexpected evolution in the child that had preferred to entertain herself by reading than by journeying to the Pit to see Syrax or Caraxes. The sight makes him breathless.

You are glorious.

“Kepus,” you say, reaching out to him. He is somewhat amazed to see you are the same person, the same girl with the same charming eyes and delicate features and alluring form, that you have not somehow metamorphosed into a goddess from ancient Valyria. “Would you like to meet him?”

His answer is immediate, wordless. When he grasps onto your hand, he notes that your grip is much firmer, more solid and more real than it had been the week before. You are in your element here, at peace within yourself and with the dragon feared by the entire world. You pull him gently with you towards the creature, unfaltering even in the wake of the chitters and low hisses it emits when it observes a newcomer heading its way.

“He will not hurt you,” you say kindly. “You are with me.”

The affirmation warms him. When you are a small distance away, you release his hand, stepping in front of him to murmur softly to your mount once more.

“Ñuha kepa bisy issa, ñuhus taobus,” you call mellifluously, once more extending your palms to stroke along the dragon’s head. It nudges you lightly, and you laugh in response. “Ziry ōdrikō daor.” This is my uncle, my boy. Do not hurt him.

There is an absurdity in hearing you kindly entreat this monstrosity as though it were a prize hound, born and bred to spend its days on the lap of a noblewoman at high tea. What’s more is that the wyrm appears to enjoy it, nuzzling into your touch like a kitten.

Athfiezar growls in warning as Daemon approaches, soothed only by the quiet humming you are making and the light affirmations of peace you are whispering. Shifting its weight around, it grumbles in irritated obeisance as it allows him near. When he is close enough to hear the beat of its heart, feel the waft of its breath on his skin, smell the typical scent of dragon stink upon the air, he stops and takes in the view. 

From this angle, he cannot see the beast’s hind legs, so vast is the length of its anatomy. The dragon’s powerful front legs and sinuous snake-like neck occupies his vision, the head bowed low to the ground in cooperation with its mistress’s will. Its sable scales ripple like onyx in the sun, flashing shades of coal and silver and gold as the light dapples upon their surfaces. The creature is maimed in several places, no doubt from its long history of aggression against its own kind, but the old injuries serve to heighten its aura of petrifaction.

It is a horrifying representative of its kind. It is everything he had ever adored stories about as a child. And it is yours.

“How is this possible?” he breathes, stepping closer to you. You glance back at him, mouth quirking gently at the expression of wonderment on his face.

You lightly entwine your fingers with his. When his eyes snap to yours, you tug him forward easily, placing his hand upon the Cannibal’s snout with your small hand laid on his own. He laughs quietly at the sensation of dragon-scale under his palm, a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief and sheer childish awe colouring his tone. To lay his hand upon the Cannibal and live… It is the stuff of dreams.

“Raqnon jorrāeltas—hegnīr ūī zijot irughin.” You stare wistfully at your mount. He needed love—so I gave it to him.

Though it is a relief to hear his ancestral tongue spill from your lips once more, a reminder that the years had not washed away all that is familiar, Daemon wonders if there is more to this unlikely pair than anyone had assumed. Both isolated, both starved for affection, both cleaving to each other for warmth and surety. The notion makes him unhappy.

My poor, lonely little girl… You never need be lonely again now that he had returned. 

He looks back up at the beast, Athfiezar the Cannibal, this wretched saviour of desolate maidens and broken dreams. The creature snorts, a puff of smoke jettisoning out of its nostrils in a sneeze. He jumps out of the way, startled. You giggle, laying your head fondly against its snout.

“Kara iksā,” he says. You are magnificent.

You smile as you look up at your dragon, your hand lightly caressing its colossal jaw—but Daemon’s eyes remain firmly affixed on you.

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[lulahwrites]

Slow Down

Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader (smut)

Summary: Remus has a low body count and is set up with the reader by Sirius to fix this issue. It's pretty unrealistic but it's cute so let's not talk about it.

Warnings: Smut (that is also very sweet,) NSFT, reader being sexually experienced is a major plot point, Fem!reader, P in V sex, Unprotected sex.

Word count: 2.3k

________________

Remus Lupin was clearly a guy with many issues. Even if you didn't know him that well, you at least knew that about him. After graduating Hogwarts, he really didn't expect being inexperienced sexually to be his biggest issue. Clearly, to Sirius, it was a way more pressing matter than the approaching full moon.

'I just think it'd do you some good.' Sirius said firmly.

'I'm fine as it is,' Remus told his friend, laughing humorously.

'Well, I have (l/n)'s number, if you're interested.' Sirius smirked cockily.

He stopped when he heard that, breath hitching at the mere thought of you. '(y/n) (l/n)?' Remus asked, trying hard not to sound too desperate. He failed miserably as Sirius' grin became wider upon hearing his voice crack.

'Yeah, you want me to call her? I'm sure she'd sort you out pretty well.' Wiggling his eyebrows causing Remus to sigh at him.

'Yeah sure,' trying to calm himself down. 'See if she's interested.' He nodded.

His smug friend now cockier than ever, 'of course, I thought you might have said that.'

The air in the room felt a bit thicker at that point, suddenly he was strangely aware of his arms, not too sure what to do with them.

‘Next Monday, 7, be ready mate. I told her your address.’ Sirius finalised it.

Monday came fast approaching, you readied yourself, packed a little overnight bag just in case. You weren’t really sure what you were expecting when Sirius called you, getting to sleep with Remus Lupin wasn’t really the first thought that popped into your head though.

You knocked on the door and waited for a sec and Remus came to the door.

‘Hi,’ he said breathlessly.

‘Hi.’

He kind of just looked at you for a minute, a look you couldn’t quite place.

‘Maybe I could come in?’ You questioned.

‘Yeah yeah, of course. Sorry.’ His cheeks got a bit red at this.

You just smiled and walked into his small house as he opened the door further.

‘You fancy a tea?’

‘Oh no, that’s alright, I should be ok.’

He stuck the kettle on for himself and turned the TV on.

‘Haven’t seen you in ages, you been ok?’ He asked.

‘Yeah, I’ve been ok I guess, looking for work. Been living with Marlene for a while. What about you?’

‘Not too bad, been shacked up here for a bit now, seeing the lads a lot.’

Small talk wasn’t usually part of your exchanges and when it was, it was never delivered with the care that Remus Lupin delivered it in. He was always quite kind, you never really spoke much but he always seemed to be a source of good book recommendations. Maybe you should have payed more attention to him.

It was the first time you really looked at him properly too, his eyes were hazel and his lips were thin but not too thin. His hair was slightly covering his eyes and his nose had a slight bump to it with scratches across it. They were never hard to miss but you always thought he suited them.

You didn’t really know how to handle the whole someone actually giving a shit about your well-being situation. Especially from someone you didn’t know so well so you decided to just kick things off. Thinking about the idea of possibly having to be the assertive one.

He was caught off guard by this. The sudden movement that caused you to be now on top of him, knees on either side of his legs. Quickly brushing your noses together, you’d pulled him into a a very deep kiss. Just wanting to be in an out, the kiss was a bit rushed.

‘Do you just want to go to your bedroom or are we staying here?’

Still in a bit of daze it took him a second to really understand what just happened. He snapped out of it and lead you upstairs holding your hand.

Still holding your hand he lead you to four-poster bed, standing to the side of it. He’d looked you in the eyes for a second then pulled a hand up to hold your face. You were just looking at him again, not entirely sure what he was thinking or what to do under his gaze.

Slowly, he leaned in, bringing the other hand to your hip and kissed you. He set a different pace, he kept it soft and slow but you were trying to up the anti and make it faster. It was just another hook up.

He wasn’t budging though, he was taking his time. His hand slowly moving to the back your head so he could get a better grasp of you, pulling gently at the roots of your hair. His other hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you in even closer.

You’d decided to push him down to the bed, breaking the kiss. At a quick, more desperate pace you kiss down his neck. He indulged you for a second but when you sat up to undo his belt, a calloused hand reached for your less stable one. Before you could get it undone he’d placed his hand very gently to stop you.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ You asked, confused.

‘We can slow down you know? I’m not going anywhere.’ He told you, he was also confused, he didn’t understand why everything was so quick.

‘I’ve never really done slow before,’ you looked at him, feeling a bit shy now.

‘Like I said, I’ve got all the time in the world, I can teach you.’

You just nodded at that, the words not being able to find their way out of your mouth. Legs still on either side of him he sat up. Face-to-face again, he stared into your eyes and placed his hands back to where they were before you’d push him down. At a loss as to what to do with your own limbs, you just played with the buttons on his shirt, unable to match where he was looking.

With that, he used the hand that he had in your hair to guide you head up, giving him access to your neck. He left a kiss just on the pulse point below your ear and then kissed a small path to your cleavage, guiding his hand down your arm. Pricking goose bumps as he did so.

When he’d finished kissing your chest, you looked back down at him. You’d matched his pace now, bringing your hands up to cradle his face. He smiled at this, lightly kissing you on the cheek. It was barely there. Gently this time, your noses connected and rubbed together smiling as they did so.

You brought him into a kiss. There wasn’t any grabbing, or biting, nothing rough. Just lips dancing together in a very soft manner. He pulled away, looked at you and gave your t-shirt a small tug.

‘Can I take this off for you, please?’ You smiled and nodded. You mimicked him and pulled at a button on his shirt, he hesitated for a moment but allowed it. You looked down at it as you undid each button, one at a time. You’d normally just rip a shirt like this off.

His shirt was off and you’d been presented with look of more scars on his body. For the first time, it was Remus who was the one who couldn’t meet your eye. Sensing his discomfort, you traced them with a touched that skimmed his raised skin and gave him a kiss on the shoulder.

He looked back and smiled pitifully. From there, you’d went down his shoulder and kissed up his neck to his jaw. You could hear his breath catch. You navigated back to his lips and met him in an intense kiss that still held his same slowed down manner.

Caressing up your back, he wrapped his arms around your legs and place you on the bed. Him hovering above you. You smiled into the kiss and he broke it to find his way down the path he had defined for himself just before that. Following his way down kissing every inch he could get to with in a straight line he stopped at the top of your pants. Giving each hip bone a kiss, he looked back up.

‘Can I?’

You just nodded, almost choking on your own breath. With ease he slipped them off, now standing. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to him. Thumbs tracing a circular pattern on then when he placed you to his liking.

He then dropped his knees and pushed your legs up so the bent for him. From this position, he placed small kisses on one thigh, presenting you with the same circular drawings on the other one. He kissed it at a pace that could only be described as painstaking and torturous.

When he felt that thigh had enough, he switched to the other, ensuring the the tip of his nose brushed your covered clit as he switched. He heard your breathing get shallower so with a squeeze of the thigh he just payed attention to he gave the other a small bite. Not painful, just to let you know he was there. As nice as it was of him, he didn’t need to do that, you were very aware of his presence.

Working his way up, he tugged on your underwear and pulled them off. Agonisingly slow. Leaving a feather light kiss on your pulsing clit. Remus made sex into an art form. He wasn't fucking for pleasure, he was doing it for intimacy.

Still as gentle as ever, small licks were felt on the swollen bud between your legs, teasing once again. You couldn't take it. Needing more pressure, more of his touch. You wrapped your legs around him to pull him in closer. You weren't met with what you needed, instead a hum.

He was laughing at you. He got you all worked up, decided he wouldn't give you what you wanted and then laughed about it. There wasn't anything you could do really. His amused hum only elicited a pathetic whimper. You'd say it was cruel but if anything it was adding to the pleasure of having him between your legs. You'd keep him there all day if you could.

Your desperation hung around the room, it clung to the walls. Sensing this, Remus decided to indulge you further. He was almost insatiable. Head between your legs, you couldn't even tell what he was doing. Your head felt like it was buzzing.

This all came to a crashing halt as he moved away and looked up at you very proud of himself. You just looked at him. Still in a pleasured daze. You couldn't even ask why he stopped.

'You ok, love?'

'Mhm.' It was quite pitiful, not being able to even round up the syllables to answer his question properly.

He stood back up, his cock hard and covered by his jeans. You sat up and reached for them, wanting to repay the favour. He stopped you and shook his head.

'I don't think I could take that right now,' his cheeks warming as he spoke.

He pulled you in for another kiss, laying you on the bed. Hovering over you again. You'd spend the next 10 minutes kissing, hands whispering over each other's skin. Sometimes, stopping and giggling where things were awkward or one of you wasn't sure what to do. Laughing especially hard together when Remus tripped over his pant leg when taking his jeans off. He was fervent in the way he kissed you but delicate in the way he touched you.

'You think you're ready to start?' Both of you very bashful after you asked this. He nodded, pulled off his boxers then you pulled back the covers and laid next to each other.

You both leaned on your sides to kiss before the deed was done. He rolled over to be on top a final time. He finally gave you a kiss on the forehead as entered slowly, looking into your eyes.

'Tell me if you want me to stop.' He whispered.

'I'm sure I won't need to but thank you,' eyes lulling shut as you felt him get deeper. His head then resting where your neck and shoulder meets. Low and heavy breaths being pulled out of him. Your body arching as his thrust got deeper and harder.

He was restless, his hands grabbing at anything he could, there was not a part of you that didn't get to know Remus Lupin that night. It was almost too much for you especially when his hand worked down your body to have a firm grasp of your thigh.

The night was hot and the kisses you shared as he pulled you closer were sickly sweet. He was desperate to keep this going for as long as possible, worshipping you in bed as long as he could. As if it was the only way he could have you. As if you weren't at his beck and call after a night like this.

His thrusts became slower but more urgent as he was growing closer. Your sobs from the overwhelming sensation in your stomach being met with groans of of delight. As you came he softly brushed your hair and slowed his thrusts to accommodate for your over stimulated state.

His thrusts stalled and then stopped completely. Resting for a second, breaths heavy and foreheads pushed together. He got out of bed, helped clean you up with a towel and then presented you with some underwear and a t shirt.

You turned to the side and he crawled in next to you, pulling you close to him and gave you a kiss on the shoulder.

'I hope it was ok, I don't do this very often,' he told you nervously.

'You couldn't tell.'

'I'm not joking.'

'Neither am I.'

He smiled at this, holding you close. Both of you silent and content.

'Oh shit, my tea!'

[creepling]

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WEEK 01: DBF! J. SLAUGHTER / 5k

WRITTEN FOR KINKTOBER 2023

synopsis. reader's father brings on an apprentice to work for him, but the young lad becomes an unlikely friend to the old man. johnny becomes a regular in your household, and the thoughts about him are becoming unbearable. when they become reality, johnny puts you in your rightful place.

tags. smut - MDNI. dad's best friend. college student!reader. size kink. height difference. reader is twenty-one, johnny is twenty-eight. dacryphilia. reader description in bikini top & shorts. sneaking off. bedroom sex. yearning. smoking cigarettes. power imbalance. secret relationship. rough kissing & sex. edging. oral (f & m receiving). use of 'little one', 'slut' and 'baby' as pet names. stomach bulge. johnny is too big for reader. positions: mating press, upstanding citizen, elevator stance.

Your dad was the guy the town went to to get anything from a tap to the free-loader truck fixed into shape. He was always handy with his hands, and it’s what brought the money in for the family. People come and go on the property, and you’re just glad the yards are big enough so they can work away in the blazing sun instead of disrupting the peace inside. At your considerable age, however, you never quite appreciated your dad appointing you as a jug maid when people came over—asking you to fetch water or mom’s home-grown lemonade and top it up for the guests.

Eight in the morning was the starting point, your mom fetching ingredients in the kitchen and your dad cleaning up his tools by the dining table. You idled behind the door as you listened to their conversation.

“Really? You’re gonna hire him?” Your mom said, confusion lacing her words.

“C’mon, it’s not the boy’s fault. Nancy said he couldn’t find permanent work in the city, and I’ve seen him fix things up – the kid’s got the touch. He can’t help who his family is,” Your dad defended.

“I don’t know, there’s rumours. I don’t wanna find out if there’s any truth,”

“Those are about Nancy, not him. Cut him some slack. You’ll like him when you get to know him.” That was the last you heard before you darted back to your room. As you changed for the day, you knew who your parents were talking about. Hesitant like your mother, you recalled your memories of the Sawyers and the Slaughters. They are a crazy bunch, not right in the head, tuned to the moon – the usual gossip about them. They were hushed words through the grapevine to you; you never met one of them in person. Now that Nancy’s ‘kid’ is your dad’s new apprentice, you could decide how crazy they are.

He drove in the yard in a busted-up truck, but the engine sounded clean and the exhaust clear as a whistle. Your dad stood out front while you and your mom hung by the porch. You strain your eyes to glimpse him in the bright sun. As he jumped out of the truck, your lips parted.

He was like something out of the movies. Hair slicked back – sun-kissed skin. Dust on his boots, the sleeves cut from his shirt. Head held high and flashing a smile as he shook your dad’s hand. You studied the flex of his arms – muscle-toned and robust. The rumours failed to mention how handsome he was, for sure.

Once he greets your dad, you and your mom walk towards him to get acquainted.

“I expected you to be a little scrawny thing,” Your mom smiled, just as surprised as you. The man chuckled and rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“You must be thinkin’ of Nubbins. I’m Johnny – Nancy’s son,” Johnny. It suited him like hair gel does a greaser.

“Gosh, I’m sorry, son, I’m bad with faces,” Your mom hollered, her bashfulness radiating off you and growing embarrassment in your core.

“This is my wife,” Your dad gestured, “And this quiet one at the back is my daughter,”

You introduce yourself. Johnny repeated your name, and it dripped like honey from his tongue. You mustered the coolest smile, hoping he blamed your bashfulness on the delirium of the heat. You spotted the hand he outstretched and shook it, your stomach doing summer salts at his firm grip—the stroke of his callous hands, deluging your hand. You could melt away in that moment.

Perch on the porch swing chair, nose in a book, your mind wandered to faraway lands to the noise of gears turning. Your dad praised Johnny’s working hands, a mutual bond in the early stages of establishment. Their tinkering perked your ears occasionally, your eyes peering over the book pages, salivating at the sight of Johnny’s gloved hands coated in soot. His eyes fixed on the mechanics, tiny strands of hair dangling over his forehead. Your dad calls on you, knocking you out of the trance.

“Fetch some lemonade, ay hun?”

You sighed, making your way into the house. In the shade, your skin still tingled. You glimpse your reflection in the hallway mirror. Cheeks dark – permanently flushed and hot. The pit of your stomach echoes alluring calls, burdening all logical thought. As you poured the glasses, you thought about those gloved hands gripping your sides, turning your body, greeting you with a rough kiss. Were his lips soft? Or brittle and callous, affected by the dry atmosphere. How much does his skin glisten with sweat? Do droplets run down the grooves of his muscles? His sun-kissed skin is littered with freckles, minuscule and collective, only noticeable when you kiss his points, running your tongue tactfully down his stomach.

“Honey, you’re spilling that!” Your mom rushed for a kitchen towel, soaking the lemonade that spread along the counter. You jumped out of your thoughts, awed by the mess, questioning the passing of time.

“Sorry, I was somewhere else…”

The thoughts only intensified when Johnny became a regular guest. He had much in common with your dad, and the unlikely man in his late 20s became a close friend to the older man. He was adopted by your dad’s friend circle, taking him under their wing, invited to BBQs, after-work bar drinks, and poker nights. When Johnny couldn’t make it, your dad always said he was in the city. You came to find Johnny wasn’t much older than you, but he likes to act like he is. One poker night, he walked past your bedroom, returning from the bathroom, eyeing the papers and books littering your desk. You felt his presence leaning on the door frame, thumbs hooked to his belt.

“Watcha got there?” He asked, his drawl never failing to amuse you.

“Summer reading. Gotta do it before I start the semester.”

“You’re always reading. Don’t ya eyes get sore?” His teasing took you by surprise. His hint at an observation was quite flattering. You thought he forgot you existed. It wouldn’t hurt to return the teasing, would it?

“Don’t your hands get sore from fixing so many cars?”

Johnny’s head leans back as he chuckles, a smirk on his face that could kill you on the spot. “You got me there, little one,” Johnny let his words linger as he walked back downstairs.

It should offend you to be called small, weaker, submissive. You were a grown-up. The grip on your pencil was firm but not from anger. It was from realising the sensation between your legs underneath your pyjama shorts. You were soaking wet.

July proved that this summer was hot, and there was no sign of it cooling down. Sitting outside was unbearable, and the thirst for cold water lay throats to dry as the pipes produced a lukewarm liquid that left a bad taste on the tongue. By the time Dad returned, the bags of ice melted in their plastic bags, causing your mother to rush about making ice cubes from scratch. All for the BBQ to still go ahead. The guests would be arriving soon.

Your parents’ friends arrived early to help out, and you heard the chin-wagging from up the stairs, cursing under your breath to find something decent to wear. Sweat invaded your skin even after having a shower, and the shorts and bikini top were becoming all too tempting to wear. You checked yourself in the mirror, the bikini strap tied around the back of your neck, the colour complimenting the hues of your skin. The plain and denim shorts are the most comfortable ones you own. Displaying your legs, room for the stomach, firm against your backside. It was the most revealing thing you’ve worn in a while, but as the sunlight reaches every corner of your bedroom, its feverish radiation gives you the excuse not to ponder. Checking your appearance once more, you sigh at your fussing and make your way downstairs.

Prepping food with your mom left you to wonder about your college friends. They were scattered around the states, living out their summers while you were stuck with the senior club. The guests remarked: if you don’t wanna hang with us old folks, we won’t take offence, hun. These people were considered your aunts and uncles; they’ve seen you in diapers. They braided your hair and kept your prying hands away from dangerous objects. The least you could do was spend time with them in your limbo stage of young adulthood and enjoy their company before you leave this town.

Things would have stayed wholesome if Johnny didn’t show up.

He wore the same clothes as always. This time, they looked like they had a fresh wash. His boots are polished, mechanic gloves discarded, his hair wet and slight back like he just hopped out of the shower. The congregation of the porch cooed at his arrival. The husbands were ready for handshakes, and the wives willfully smiled at his charming face. You were the only one to react like his welcome was neutral, even when you cocked your hip slightly to the side and fixed your hair.

He brought an offering of corn cobs, excusing the rest of his family not making attendance. “Momma wanted to give these as an apology for not comin’. She said she real busy. In truth, I think she was nervous comin’ here. She ain’t been out in a long while.”

They all thought how gratuitous the boy was looking out for his momma. You kept a blank face at their responses, knowing they would be as tense in meeting the ‘Black Nancy’. The black widow of Newt sitting with them, eating food with them, the rumours floating in their head like sewage in a gutter. It's a good thing he brought a meatless offering.

There were too many cooks in the kitchen as the men established a system by the grill, letting their wives sit around and ask Johnny questions, keeping him in their company. You sat by the edge, amused by the sight of his attempt to keep his cool.

They asked a lot about his family, and you sensed the tense build-up inside him from across the table. You bit your lip, staring into space, hearing the stutter of his words. He was like a meerkat around hyenas, and he didn’t like that one bit.

“How’s the old man? What was his name? Drayton! Is he still working at that gas station? Every time I drive by, there seems to be no gas in it,” The woman hollered, “Must be y’all bringing all the money in.”

“Wasn’t there a youngest? Must be cousins with yourself. ‘Went to school with my oldest, but he was not in it for long – teachers said he was slow-thinking. Think they pulled him out eventually. How’s he holdin’ up?”

The look in Johnny’s eyes, you hadn’t seen him like that before. Dark and daggering at the table, avoiding the gazes his way. You notice his forearm tense, his hands clenched into a fist. You felt like saying something.

“Quit your hollerin’ at ‘im! He don’t wanna gossip with ya!” Your dad’s friend nipped at his wife, causing the women to transfer into giggles.

“Would ya excuse me?” Johnny rose from the table and headed inside, insinuating use for the bathroom. As he entered the front door, you waited a few seconds before heading inside. Pausing by the hallway, you hear his footsteps, ear perking at a creak from upstairs. As you ascend the stairs, you see him loitering by the landing, arms crossed and back to the wall. His eyes closed, heaves of exhales coming from his nose – like he was meditating.

“Drains the life outta ya, doesn’t it?” You perked, earning a jolt of surprise from Johnny.

“What ya mean?” He drawled, shrugging his shoulders.

“They’re energy vampires. I love them and all, but- sometimes they never know when to read the room. I guess I just- I mean to say you’re not wrong for feeling annoyed by it,” You gingerly walk closer to him, eyes adjusting to his face in the dim light. He was always at a distance, a stunning piece to commend. This is the closest you’ve ever seen him. You glance at his worn-out jeans, the car spark burn-holes in his t-shirt, the scars littering his arms. He was a solidified dream, flesh and bone carved by the Gods – a little rugged. You cross your legs and hug your arms, unworthy of his stare.

He couldn’t help but stare, too, soaking you in from head to toe – revealing your attributes hidden by flowy blouses and cotton flares on an average day. Your skin looked soft and plush. The dip in your thighs from the denim hugging close, snug on your hips. The bikini demanded his attention, and his stare was everlasting on you. A warm aura collided with your tense muscles, still and eager. You straightened your back and hugged your arms tighter, defining the curve of your cleavage. Johnny cocked his eyebrow.

“You wanna hang out? We can sit in my room” Your suggestion slipped through your lips. You were urged by the thoughts signalling in your mind to fill the hunger for his hands on you. To find somewhere quiet and colluded for your moans to become ballads.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Johnny took a step closer to you. He was tall, his head tilted, eyes peering down at you. Your small stature shuffled back, but Johnny only leaned closer. The broadness of his shoulders engulfing you, his figure like a shadow. He was thinking about your suggestion, burying your head into the pillows, having his way with you. But for the first time, he felt like following a moral code – to not fuck his best friend’s daughter. He’d grown close to him and even appreciated his presence as the father figure he never had. But he had also grown fond of how you look at him, tempting him at every chance. Your acts were desperate; he mused on stripping you of your innocent facade, letting his hands reveal your alluring nature. Nervously laughing, you divert your eyes, swinging your legs in motion to your bedroom door.

“Well- while the old ones talk your ear off, I’ll be in my room. You’re welcome to join if you like,” You bite your lip and bat your eyes before closing the door.

Johnny shuffled between your door and the stairs, hearing the laughter from outside and a record hitting play through your wall. Both sound sources tugged at him until he finally gave him, opening your door discreetly.

You lay on your bed, positioned with your feet kicking the air, your hands splayed over a book you were reading earlier. The music mumbled as Johnny slowly closed the door, leaning on it as his eyes scanned your room. It was a physical personification of you, small tokens of memories littered around. The walls are still a pale pink from when you were a toddler, yellow-stained from cigarette smoke. Hand-me-down furniture in the set of dark wood, coffee stains on the desk, dust under the wardrobe. Johnny’s lips tugged into a smile, “Cute,” 

You gave him room to sit on the bed, discarding your book and leaning on your side. Johnny prompted his back against the headboard, his boots dangling on the edge, mindful of the dirt on the soles. He digs into his pockets for his pack of cigarettes and lighter, clipping his lips onto the dout of the cigarette and pulling it out. You gaze at his pout and the clicker of the lighter, mimicking his inhale to steady the gutting pounds of your heart. You inch your fingers towards him, and he passes the cigarette, allowing you to pinch it between your fingers and draw it to your lips.

“Why’d you start working with my dad?” You ask the question you wanted to ask for a long time, to know the beginning of it all. To better understand the origins of his presence being the demise of your contentment.

“He offered me a job, I took it,” He shrugged, taking the cigarette as you passed it back.

“And now you’re the best of buddies. How’s that going?” You slightly tease, smiling at the sight of his smirk.

“I know you’re his daughter and all - but he’s a fun guy to hang around with. Doesn’t bother me he’s older. I like hanging out with him, and he’s taught me a lot on the job.”

Johnny taps the ashes into the ashtray at your bedside, his free hand by his side, inches away from yours. His hard fingertips traced circles on your duvet. You slide your fingers closer, breezing your nail along his index. He observed you, studying your innocent exterior, suspicious of your insinuating eyes.

“What about me? Am I fun to hang out with?” Your face dropped as he slowly shook his head.

“Don’t…” His warning was clear, but his tongue scaled along his cheek, trying to hold back. You roll your eyes and sit up, looking him dead in the eyes.

“You’re not that much older than me, y’know. You don’t get to treat me like a baby just because you're friends with my family.” You got your point across, narrowing your eyes as Johnny held in a chuckle.

“How old are you, anyways?” Johnny drawled, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“Twenty-one. And how old are you? Twenty-eight, going on Fifty?” Your face was straight, but you chewed on your cheek as his smirk grew contagious. A firmness gripped your wrist, and your breath hitches, pupils dilating as Johnny pours his stare into you. As he sits up, you feel small again, his shoulders at either side of you, his hard look demanding your attention.

“I see how it is. You’re all grown up now, but mommy and daddy still think you’re their sweet little baby. Everyone thinks you’re so damn cute, you’re the precious little angel. And you’re just getting darn’ sick of it,” Johnny’s words form a lump in your throat, and you meekly nod. His lips close to yours, and your mouth gapes open as he leans closer.

He pulls away, smirking at your intentions, biting the cigarette between his teeth. You turn away in a huff, rubbing your hot cheeks. How embarrassing to be teased like that and caught out on your feelings. Johnny was relishing it.

“Go back downstairs if you’re going to be like that,” You say, trying not to trip on your words and stand your ground. Johnny deadens the cigarette into the ashtray, and his boots scrape against the hardwood. He squats in front of you, forcing his gaze on yours.

“I ain’t doing anything outta malice, sweetheart. What you’re tryna do would cost me my job. What would your dad think of me? What would he think of you?” Johnny places his hands on your thighs, running his fingers along your bare skin. You caught your breath. “But… I’m not one to play by the rules. And, well, that little outfit of yours caught my eye the minute I came here.”

Johnny hooks his fingers under the hem of your shorts, his knuckles digging under the tight fabric. Your back arches along with your legs slowly opening, fixated on Johnny’s eyes on your body. “My, you’re just too tempting…” Johnny breathes out.

“No one has to know,” You convince, “I won’t tell anyone. You’ll still have your job.”

Johnny places his hand on the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek. You realise how big he is compared to you, how his hand could cover your whole face or wrap wholly around your neck. His lips tug into a smirk as his eyes devour you, “Yeah, let’s keep this our little secret.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as his mouth strikes yours, inviting you into a rough embrace. A low, mumbled moan vibrates against his lips, causing him to chuckle. Immediately, his arms around you press you against his body, bringing your small frame into a cradle as he stands up. Your legs wrap around his hips, his hands gripping your ass and the back of your neck. The effortlessness of handling coursed through your mind, wondering what other aspects he can achieve. His initiation of power lends you your submissive state, and you allow him to spread your short frame along your bed, his broad shoulders on either side of you, and he props himself with his elbows. He leans to one side, letting his free hand fidget with your shorts, his lips never leaving for breath. He tugs them off, chuckling as they fumble over your thighs.

Johnny trails his kisses down to your chest, his teeth scraping against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. His hands caught onto your breasts, massaging into their warmth. His nose is buried into your cleavage, and you take the time to undo the back of your bikini, letting the fabric fall on either side of him. The strap tickles his ears, and his hands yank the rest of the fabric, his mouth latching onto your nipples, a drawn-out moan escaping your lips. You wondered how loud is too loud. Will people hear from downstairs? Taking no chances, you clasp your hand over your mouth, sinking into the bed as Johnny attacks your sensitivity.

“Lemmie hear those moans, little one,” Johnny said between kisses, “You sound so darn cute.”

There it was again. Little one. You feel your underwear drenched as you buck your hips, your pussy rubbing against the thin material. It only intensifies as Johnny lowers his kisses, catching sight of the damp trail pooling in your panties. “Fuuuck,” he breathes out, pressing his fingertips against your warmth, making you tense. Pleading with your eyes as he teases you, your hips grind against his touch, begging for pressure. Johnny was not one for pleasuring others, but the sight of your desperation and your sweet scent sent his actions into overdrive. His fingers pull down the thin, cotton fabric, abandoning it on the floor, spreading your legs to reveal your dripping cunt.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” He prompts your legs over his shoulders, exposing you. You mewl at your vulnerability, eyes locked on his fingers inching towards you. He groans at his fingers sliding neatly between your walls, gliding upwards to your gummy clit. His touch was light but enough to make you shift your hips lower. He grunts, gripping your legs and giving you a firm stare.

“I need you to stay still, baby girl. I wanna take my sweet’ass time with you, ‘that clear?”

You nod rapidly, agreeing to anything that involves him touching you. You mentally beg for him inside you, to fill you up with his immersive fingers, letting each one stretch you out and tighten at his touch. You wanted to feel his tongue toy with your clit, cum all over his mouth. But he wasn’t playing by your rules, and Johnny will do anything to make you beg.

Johnny idles your clit, making his touch lighter whenever you press against him. He chuckles at your defeat, your ass sinking lower into the bed, obeying him in hopes of pleasure. Johnny takes his time sliding inside you, one finger after another, his mouth agape at the sight of your stretching cunt. You yelp into your mouth, biting down on your finger as you ease into his touch, gasping as he pumps in and out. Your eyes widen at the feeling of his tongue rubbing against your clit. Your stomach tightens, your hands grip the sheets, and a sigh of relief escapes your lips.

The sight of Johnny’s eyes looking up at you was maddening, his stare dark and lustrous. His free hand holds your leg wide, having all access to your sensitive cunt. The tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit, sending a tight, pleasurable feeling to your core. His experience was unlike any other. It beat all the sex you had before out of the park. Your climax inches to finish, your moans pitching higher, mewling against your pursed lips. Then, he stops, the cold air hitting against your throbbing cunt, his tongue licking his lips.

“Why’d you stop? Please, I was so fucking close-” You protest, but Johnny already has his fingers on your lips, silencing you. With a firm hold on your jaw, he slaps your cunt until it’s raw, basking in your surprise. The way your small frame protests his touch amused him more than he liked to admit.

“Awh baby, I don’t want you cumming so early,” Johnny mockingly coos, rubbing the bulge protruding from his jeans, “I gotta have some pleasure too, y’know.”

You sit up, practically clawing at his jeans, letting his hands stroke your pretty face as you reveal his cock. Like his hands, his length reached over your face, his girth heavy against your nose. Kitten licking his shaft, Johnny chuckles at your eagerness.

“Who knew you were such a lil cock slut?” Johnny amused. It’s the quiet ones you gotta watch out for, he thought. His tip pokes your pretty little mouth, Johnny aiming entry, his head thrown back as you suck it gently in your mouth. He grips your hair, his burly strength pushing your mouth deeper around his cock. You choke as your nose tickles his base, gasping for air as he springs his cock out of your mouth. Once his cock is dripping in your drool, Johnny pushes you back, exposing your throbbing cunt to his erection.

Beyond the mist of lust, Johnny thought for a moment. His eyes scan you – your puppy eyes and puffy lips. His hands pressed down your thighs, exposing your entrance, his tip rubbing against your clit. He wanted nothing more than for you to be his tiny fucktoy. He undertakes, sliding his cock inside you, slow against your tightness, the pressure forcing him to stuff himself inside you. He watches as your pussy stretches around him, the way your stomach expands and reveals the bulge of his cock. He comprehends the size difference, how minuscule you are underneath him, and how in your stature you squirm under his force. You try to back up as he is halfway, your pussy choking on his cock, but he holds you in place.

“This getting too much for you, little one? Can’t you take all of me?” Johnny grunts in your ear, rutting the rest of his length inside you, smothering your face into the crook of his neck as you yelp. Burying his cock into you, he waits until you succumb to his length before getting back into position and pounding his cock in and out of you. The roughness to provoke against you sends mixed signals, your mind foggy and fixated on his cock. A jolt of pleasure fills you, his thumb rubs against your clit.

“Who knew daddy’s little girl was so cock-hungry,” Johnny teased, “A pretty thing like you wanting me to ruin this tiny pussy. Fuck, your dad’s gonna be pissed.”

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his fingers never leaving your clit, watching you ascend into lust as he tells you how dirty you are, how he sees the way you stare at him, how you were asking for this. You thank him repeatedly, asking him to go faster, harder.

“You gonna make me cum,” You purr, your high coming close. Your words encourage Johnny to keep going until the opposite occurs. His fingers leave your clit, his thrusts burn into a slow rhythm, and you feel like screaming. A numbing agony takes over. You sob into his chest. Johnny forces you to look at him, witnessing tears fall. His edging came to a breaking point. Your orgasm is denied and torturous. You plead with him with your eyes, your lip quivering. His pupils dilate as you sob.

His thrusts are harsher as if forcing the tears to keep spilling down your puffy cheeks, grunts breathing out his mouth at the sound of you choking on your sobs. His hand wraps around your neck, pushing the air from your lungs, using every possibility to see you crying. You knew he enjoyed this, feeling him twitch inside you, your lulling eyes catching the perverted look in his eye.

“You keep doing that, and I’ll let you cum, baby girl,” Johnny promised, not caring how psychotic he sounded, showing his true colours. The creak of the bed intensifies as he drills into you, prompting him to pick you up in his arms. You instinctively wrap your arms around him, shocked at how flawlessly he picked you up, holding you like you weigh nothing. Your legs over his arms, his forehead pressing against yours. Mesmerised by the dark look in his eye, you silence your moans with pursed lips, astonished at your tender insides ruined by his rough thrusts. The tears keep streaming, the pain mixing with your arousal, your delicate cunt denied of pleasure, at his mercy for emancipation. Johnny kissed your tear-stained cheeks – a glutton to its salty taste.

“Such a good little pet for me, so fucking good,” Johnny mumbles, a belligerent on your ass, smacking you against him and grunting at the pleasure. “I’m gonna let you cum now, doll. Fuck – I want you to cum.”

You gasp in relief, repeating gratitude, the depths of his pummelling enough to bring your high from your ruined pussy to its release. As you speak and squirm, you cling to his broad frame, nails digging into his shoulders, suffocating your face into his neck. Johnny is unyielding to your cunt tightening around him, his length bathing in your wetness, an exhausted groan flowing from his agape mouth. Johnny holds your dead weight as you grow limp, lightheaded from the rush, but still able to keep you with perfect precision. Knowing his climax is approaching, Johnny slips your lame, small body off him, forcing you to his knees. You become alert in your position, held in place with your head directly under his pulsating dick, his hand firm on the top of your head, ready for his load.

Strings of hot seed stretch your face and hairline, grumbling curses from Johnny, the sight of you marked with his release clouding his mind— the residue hanging from your lips, relishing in his salty taste. Johnny smirks down at you. Even in his transition to clarity, you are a sight for sore eyes. “You look so pretty like that, little one,” he chuckled.

Both of you are quick to change, aware of the passing of time and the guests downstairs. Johnny helps you tie your bikini, brazing your tits for the last time before buckling his jeans. Cleaning the cum and tears from your face with a cloth, you gaze at him, fumbling with his belt, trailing your eyes along the perimeters of his body. Wondering if all of this was just another wet dream.

Johnny revised the excuse with you once more, “I was in the bathroom, bothered by last night's dinner. You were in your room studying. Got it?”

You smirk slyly, making Johnny cock his eyebrow. “You really want them thinking you were on the toilet for half an hour?”

Johnny rolls his eyes, “Better than them knowing I was fucking you. Unless you got another excuse, smartass?”

A smile erupts on your face, giggling under your breath. Your eyes look at Johnny, ready to ask about the elephant in the room. “Is this gonna be the first and only time?”

Johnny thinks about it momentarily, shrugging as he gazes down at you. “It can’t be too regular. But I would be lyin’ if I said I didn’t wanna see you again,”

You sit there bashful, the flash of shyness intensifying when he gently kisses the top of your hand, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. He had an edge to him. You discovered that in the trice, but it only heightened your infatuation with him. To be under him, in his command, you never felt more safe, excited, and thrilled by what life threw at you. The risk of getting caught, in any other situation, your good nature meets with anxiety. Johnny made it worth it. It was impossible to deny him. And Johnny could sleep tonight knowing he had you wrapped around his finger.

“‘Til next time, sweet thing,'' Johnny exited, winking before closing the door. You lay back on your bed, gaining your senses, the butterflies in your stomach still prevalent and consuming.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Weaving threads of friendship (mostly platonic)

Refer to this post.

As the people requested, Hobie’s partner meeting Miles.

This one is significantly shorter than my last one partially cause I think this is pretty straightforward

From the moment Miles Morales heard of Hobie brown he didn’t know exactly how to feel about him

It happened in passing as he and Gwen had swung through the city

The first time since the collider incident that he had seen her, months of wondering if she was fine

If she and the others had made it back safe

And now as they go around city just like he had hoped if she mentions him

He couldn’t help but feel a twang of panic

Feelings he’s harboured for the blond that had been simmering for a long while coming to a bubbling uproar

Didn’t help as he pushed the subject and got in response that she had apparently been living with him

An ugly seed of envy sprouts it’s way into his gut at that

He can’t help but feel ashamed of it

This was Gwen, of course she found someone. She was the coolest person he knows

Someone who could do ballet while fighting villains

Plus was apart of some kickass band in her dimension

He honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if she was selling out stadiums

And if she wasn’t currently, then he fully expected that for her future

He should feel happy that she found someone

Happy that she was in a good place

Yet it’s hard to ignore that sprouting envy as his emotions are already high enough as it is when seeing her again

It doesn’t help when he meets Hobie though

Having a moment to prove himself and then suddenly having it quite literally dashed open

With a guitar no less

Doesn’t help that he was cool as hell

The studded black leather vest

Spike Mohawk

Doc Martin boots

British accent

Silver gleaming piercings

Miles knew he couldn’t compare to him

And by god did it hurt

From the moment Hobie saw miles he knew knew he’d like the accidental Spider-Man

It might be due to the fact that Miguel did NOT want him apart of the Spider regime

On the fact that him being Spider-Man went against canon

But it also had to do with the fact that he recognized how he looked at Gwen

It’s how Hobie looked at you

Sure, he couldn’t see under the mask but it was very glaringly obvious to Brit

That was the gaze of someone who was in a deep passionate love

Something akin to fizzling fireworks that popped off in the night

Pop rocks exploding on your tongue on a humid day

Sappy romantic shite that he once never thought he’d think of

Until he rapidly found himself staring at you with that same expression

It makes him chuckle a bit thinking back

How glaringly obvious he was with his feelings yet you couldn’t accept the signs

Not until he told you face to face

Good times

With that look he also sees a slight sadness with it as well

Miles occasionally glancing at him and then back to Gwen

The slight bitter taste Miles held in his voice when addressing him

But what…oh

That realization almost makes Hobie burst out in laughter

Poor lad is probably running circles in his head for nothing

He’s definitely gonna have to tell him

One the tour of the HQ Hobie lingers close by to the newbie

Hands on his pockets as Jessica leads to way to Miguel’s sulking area

With the lame and inconveniently slow office floor elevator

A perfect example of capitalism

He pulls Miles aside with an arm around his shoulder, making Mikes give a noise of complaint

Until Hobie pulled out a Polaroid from an inner pocket of his vest

In it was Hobie with another person

Both staring up at the camera as he gave them a kiss

Miles looks to him in confusion

“I thought you and-“

“Gwenivere? Nah mate. S’ just crashin at my place cause home ain’t the best for her right now.”

“And that’s?”

“Yeah, my partner in crime so to say. Should meet them sometime, they’d like ya”

“Really?”

“Gwen won’t stop talking bout you.”

Hobie stifles a laugh at Miles’s face

The look of surprise and Fluster washing over the young lad as he shoots a glance at Gwen

Who all the while remained obvious to his stare as he directs it to the ground once more

Hobie grabs a new piece of tech as he does this

Pocketing it as he did with many other nick-knacks he’d found and swiped

To be fair, if it’s not nailed to the ground real nice then it’s free territory for grabbing

Or well…that’s what he tells others anyways

The piles of scrap pilled up in both his home and your room is a testament to that

As was the prototypes of his own dimension hoping bracelet

When you met Miles you couldn’t help but be extremely excited as the young Spider-Man sat down on Hobie’s worn and old ripped leather couch

Gwen often talked of him

So now seeing him in person is a extremely fun experience especially since he’s awkward in a way that reminds you of your past self

Conversation starts off slow at first

Stuff mostly revolving around his universe

What he liked

Etcetera Etcetera

But what really gets talk happening is when he brings up drawing

In a life in which your surrounded by musically artistic people it’s nice to have someone with a new passion

So it’s safe to say he quickly ends up showing you his sketchbook

Carefully showing you pages of graffiti tags

Mural ideas

And a few that had Gwen that he quickly flipped to a different page

You don’t comment on it but your grin alone tells him what he needs to hear

Speaking of which, Gwen is ecstatic that you get to meet Miles

She would not spot talking about it even before the whole “don’t tell mikes about the spider society” situation happened and was figured out

You definitely tease her a bit about it

And Miles as well

Buts it’s all in good nature

Miles finds you to be down to earth and Hobie’s translator of sorts

He doesn’t at all get British slang or can understand what Hobie is talking about so you help with that

Using an phrases and metaphors work better for his American understanding

He thanks whatever god there is for that cause sometimes he swears Hobie is making up shit just to confuse him

If you show him all the handmade gifts Hobie has made for you he gets a lot of creative inspiration

Especially since he’s always willing to step out of his normal medium

Show him how to make his own custom pins and he’ll return later with at least 15 plus a couple for you and Hobie

Their also really well drawn as well

So it’s a win win for everyone

At some point you secretly ask him to make some potential album cover art for Hobie and he is fucking ecstatic

He’s never done something like that before so he takes to trying it very seriously

Experimenting with styles

Trying new techniques

Eventually he settles down on a mix of graffiti and collage of news paper clippings

Cause apparently to him you both look as if your straight from newspaper clippings mashed together

Gwen can attest to this as well

Hobie ends up fucking loving it

And Gwen, Miles and Pavitr have to deal with the punk being all lovey dovey to you in a way they had never imagined Hobie to be

He’s peppering your face with kisses and swinging you around in a hug

You let out a small yell as he tosses you up and catches you

It’s honestly really sweet

“How did I once find him intimidating?”

“Eh, it’s not much of a surprise to me. You’d be surprised to find out how many Punk people are actually really sweet”

“I think it’s also cause you thought he was dating g-“

He eventually puts you down and pulls them into a hug

That quickly turns into him aggressively messing up their hair

“I take what I said back”

“Hey! Don’t mess with the hair! My beautiful natural hair!”

“Why am I even surprised anymore?”

Safe to say miles has become a new vital part of this group

And you wouldn’t have it any other way

[captainlondonman]

Book keeper to Workie

The employment agency called Rob to let him know that there was a job going down at the new building site as a book keeper and that he could start straightaway. Having been made redundant a few months ago he leapt at the chance and said of course he would turn up the following day. Not sure what to wear he decided better not too casual so put on a pair of chinos, a shirt and tie. He’d never worked or even been on a building site before and was not sure how it would be working along side a bunch of workies who were probably all quite rough.

‘However, it is at least a job’ he thought.

Turning up the next day he could see quite a large group of workies all in full Hi Viz with helmets milling around.

‘Excuse me, can you tell where the main office is please as I’ve come to do the bookkeeping’, Rob asked rather gingerly.

‘Christ what do we have here, a little posh boy looking ever so smart’ one of the guys said.

 ‘Shit lad you had better change a bit here with all of us. Make sure you use the word”fuck” in front of everything’

The others laughed and one said

‘Quit it lads, give the youngster a chance. ‘I’m Jeff by the way. Suppose you want to see the Boss?’

‘Yes please’

‘Go over to that portacabin and knock. He should be inside. Good luck.’

Rob went over and knocked at the door. A gruff voice shouted out

‘Who the fuck is there. What do you want. Get inside.’

Rob stepped inside and saw the backview of the Boss who was sitting at a computing screen which suddenly went black as he went in. The Boss swiveled round in his chair. He was large with shaven sides to his hair but a short cut dark black centre . He had a thick but well trimmed beard and was stocky built wearing, rigger boots, jeans, white shirt and tie and padded Hi Viz jacket.  When he stood up Rob could see he must be around 6’3” and for a moment Rob could see a large bulge down one side of his jeans before the Boss put his hands over.

‘Christ he must have been looking at some porn site’ Rob thought

‘So who the hell are you barging in?’

‘I’m your bookkeeper’

‘Oh right. I didn’t expect a pretty college type guy.’

‘I hope I don’t disappoint’, Rob said timidly

‘Na, need to see how you work but I reckon you’ll fit in nicely. Here’s the computer which you can turn on and find the bookkeeping programme. You’ll see a pile of invoices you need to sort out and record. Ok? I’ll let you get on as I have some business to deal with.’

‘Just before you go can you tell me where the toilets are.’

‘Most guys here just pee outside but if you need a shit then the block is 2 portacabins down.’

As the Boss went to open the door and free his hands from his crotch Rob could see that his cock was still straining against the jeans.

He heard the Boss shout out.

‘Hey Jeff get over here and follow me.’

Rob looked out the side open window to see what was going on and saw the Boss standing at the side of the van thinking he was out of sight from all the lads, and was rubbing his crotch, his hand slowly grasping the full length of his dick inside the jeans. Jeff came round the side and stood in front of the Boss.

‘I was all ready for a fucking wank and that new boy came in just as was looking at some great guys in HiViz going at it on the screen. Thank Christ I didn’t have my cock out but I tell you, Jeff, I’m still feeling fucking horny so you know what to do.’

Jeff put his hand out and slowly let one hand move up and down the Boss’s crotch.

‘Shit Boss, you have the best cock around, so fucking meaty and what a bloody great bulge it makes.’

‘Fuck the bulge boy, unzip me and get your hand inside.’

Jeff unzipped and let his hand inside moving it all the way down the long shaft, making sure his hand was firmly around it. With his other hand he unbuttoned the top of the jeans so he could pull the cock out. As he did he purposely took the hand away so the full meaty dick could bounce up showing it fully erect making it almost vertical such was its hardness.

Rob looked closely and could see a good 8” thick cock with shiny head fully exposed.

Jeff was in full Hi Viz, trousers with dirty T shirt and Hiviz vest. He started rubbing his own crotch.

‘Making me feel fucking horny Boss.’

‘You know what to do now.’

Jeff got down on his knees his eyes level with the cock he was about to suck.

‘No messing Jeff, I’m fucking horny and need to unload so get this down yer throat and suck big time.’

Jeff put his arms around the Boss’s thighs as he moved in to take the head. He let his tongue lick across the tip and around the head covering it with his spit, the Boss’s cock jerking as he did. Opening his mouth wide he started to slowly take the large diameter and let the cock slip further into his mouth. The Boss  needed to cum so he took hold of Jeff’s head with his hairy hands and forced his head the full length down the shaft causing Jeff to gag for a few seconds as his saliva spilt out of his mouth and down his Hi Viz vest.

‘That’s more like it’

Rob peering out from the side window could not believe his eyes. Here was the Boss ordering one of the workies to give him a blow job and the guy was doing exactly as he was told and even more seemed to be enjoying it. But it wasn’t just the two of them enjoying. Rob’s own cock was fully erect and he could now feel some precum oozing out of his chinos. Watching without the others knowing was turning him on even more. And what a cock the Boss had.

The Boss started to work Jeff’s head up and down the full length and now Jeff was able to take in the Boss’s full manhood. Jeff’s mouth was tight against the Boss’s pubes. The Boss was fully in control with Jeff on his knees and the Boss ramming his cock in a out of Jeff’s face.

‘Christ you suck well. Glad you saw sense and joined the crew. I like my guys as real men not office guys. Go on take the full length, you know you love my dick, Take it the whole way down your throat. I’m so horny from the porn site and now you sucking me off that I’m ready to come. So let that throat of yours take it all. I don’t want any wasted. Go on boy suck I’m ready

And with one final push into Jeff’s face, the Boss flung his head back as his spunk shot out into Jeff’s throat. Rob could hear the Boss groaning with pleasure

‘Take it all and then wipe your mouth clean. Don’t want you walking around with my spunk on your chin. Well done that feels better” he said giving his cock a shake and using his hand to wipe off any remaining spunk ‘ Now off you go and get some work done and make sure that prick of your is not bulging out as it is now. You’ll get your turn soon enough.’

Rob quickly got back to his seat in case the Boss came back in and he needed to hide his own erection so no one could see.

His stiff pole refused to go down and Rob thought the only thing is to get to the loos and have a wank. So putting his hands in his pocket to hide the bulge he left the office and found the loo portacabin. There was thankfully no one inside so he went into one of the cubicles but there was no lock on the door

‘Christ I have to cum after seeing the Boss’s cock being sucked off, not sure what to do.’

As he considered, the main door opened and 2 of the workies came in and went to the urinals. Rob could hear them unzipping their HiViz trousers and getting their cocks out to pee.

Rob was worried he would have more precum oozing out so quietly undid his zip and pulled out his cock. He could hear the pee gushing out from the two guys.

‘Not sure what they put in the tea mate but it sure makes you pee.’

As they finished and started to shake themselves one said to the other

‘I’d forgotten what a great cock you have’

‘Yours ain’t bad either mate in fact we are probably the same size. Lets see.’

They turned round towards each other and placed their cocks side by side.

‘Yeah pretty much the same when like this but more important if they are the same when we have a boner.’ And with that the guy put his hand around both cocks and started to stroke up and down.

‘Looks like they are growing at the same rate. Let me do it a bit more.’ He then took his full hand around the shafts and started yanking more forcefully.

‘Christ Bob, I luv my cock rubbing against yours and seeing them stiff together.’ ‘Still looks as if they are the same.’

‘Unbutton your trousers Jake’

Jake did as told and then Bob with his other hand pulled out the rear of the trousers and let his hand slip down Bob’s hairy crack, all the time masturbating both cocks with the other hand.

‘You know what I like Bob.’

‘Should do after all this time.’

Bob let one of his fingers ease itself in to Jake’s arse and as Jake moved his arse out to take it so Jake slid another and then another until 4 fingers were full up the hole.

‘Go on Bob move them around so I feel ready.’

‘So Jake it seems our stiff dicks are pretty much the same so when I fuck you now you can imagine as if you are fucking yourself.’

Rob was looking at all of this though a crack in the slightly open door, his own cock out and his hand now starting to work the shaft. This was too much.

‘If the Boss had thought he was horny Christ I’m so ready to burst.’

 He was terrified to breathe in case they could hear but by now the guys were so into each other they would not notice.

‘That arse of yours Jake is now nice and moist, I can feel my fingers really wet. Feels as if you are ready.’

‘What do you fucking think with those fingers moving around inside me. You ain’t a doctor but a great fuck ‘

Bob pulled down the rear of Jake’s Hi Viz and Rob was able to see a nice hairy arse with a good pair of meaty cheeks.

‘I’m fucking ready for that cock of yours or mine if you think that way.’

‘Tell you what Jake why don’t you let a big gob of spit onto my dick and then its part of you being fucked.’

Jake gathered all his spit and let it fall onto Bob’s gleaming head.

‘Now work that in a bit as if it’s yer own.’

Jake rubbed his spit up and down Bob’s shaft and then put both arms up resting against the wall as Bob moved behind taking his cock and setting in against the crack.

‘Luv that hairy arse of yours as I see my cock slipping all the way up. Now push yer arse out to take it all man.’

Bob was now standing right behind and put his hands on Jake’s hips positioning himself and his cock for full entry.

He gently pushed the head in feeling it get past the opening and as he did Jake moved his arse further back groaning with pleasure. Bob’s cock slid further in, taking his time enjoying the sensation until Jake’s arse was firmly set against Bob’s Hi Viz zip opening.

‘So you like being self fucked.’

‘ Sure do but I tell you what when your get the Boss’s cock up you, you sure know. He ain’t the Boss for nothing with that thick dick of his.’

‘Well for now you’ll have to make do with my prick and don’t worry I’ve as much spunk as the Boss.’

‘So get on and fuck me and let me feel your nylon HiViz smack against me and then I know you’re fully up me.’

‘Ok mate you asked to be fucked so I’ll fuck you.’

With that Bob started rough fucking, ramming his dick up and down the full length and every time Jake seemed to stick his arse out even further to take every push. The more he rammed in the more excited Bob got.

‘Fucking take it, you want cock and I’m giving it to you and a full wad of spunk to boot.’

By now Rob’s hand was wanking furiously. On the one hand he wanted to be fucking Jake but seeing the way Bob was fucking, his own arse became moist at the thought of it up him.

‘I’m cumming man so take  it all, shit there’s loads going up you. Go on wank yourself and cum too.’

‘What the hell do you think I’m doing. I want us to come together. Two same cocks spurting their load.’

‘Well do it now, Jesus I’m cumming man.’ and with one final push he let out a loud groan as he pumped Jake, whose head shot back as he shot his load into the urinal.

Seeing the two guys was too much for Rob and with one hand over his mouth to stifle any noise his cock erupted a ton of spunk against the cubicle door.

‘Fasten up yer HiViz Jake, I want you to go around today with all my spunk up yer arse.’

‘Don’t worry I love feeling you still inside me but I’d better give the pisspot here a quick clean. You leave first and then no one will know what we have been up to.’

‘You’ve got to be joking man , we are all at it here, makes no difference. We fuck more than we work.’

The guys eventually left after some cleaning and then Rob wiped his cock clean and then took all the spunk that had been running down the door. Tucking himself back, in making sure his chinos were not stained he quietly left and went back to the office.

‘What sort of place have I come to’ he said to himself.

As he was wading through the invoices to put on the computer the Boss came in with a mug of tea and bunch of Hi Viz clothing and dropped the items down in front of Rob.

‘The lads are saying it is better for you to wear the same gear when you are on site. It’s up to you whether you change here or come from home in it but either way while you are here you wear these clothes. I’ve picked out what I think is your size and anyway you have to have rigger boots and a Hi viz vest and helmet to meet regulations. So I’ll let you change now. You might as well get used to it.

You can have the cuppa after. OK? I’ll let you get on.’

Rob thought this seemed a bit far fetched but having seen some of lads and then witnessed what had gone on at the toilet block, he decided it might be a good idea and he might feel like one of the workies. He undressed, carefully folded his clothes and put on the HiViz polo shirt, then the trousers and then the vest all I bright orange with the company logo on the back. He had noticed that the two guys getting off had not been wearing underwear so he decided to do the same. Even the rigger boots were the right size. He saw a mirror in a corner and went to stand in front. Apart from looking so clean he almost looked a workie and immediately he felt his cock starting to strain inside and already it was pressing against his trousers forming a decent looking pole.

‘Christ I had better get back to work and take my mind off things’ he said

Back at work he started drinking the mug of tea the Boss had left and at first he thought it had a slightly odd taste but put it down to the fact that it was probably just cheap tea. But his cock still stayed hard.

Rob then remembered that he was certain the Boss had been looking at a porn site when he arrived so he checked out the internet at History and sure enough he could see several Hi Viz sites which he clicked on. Photos appeared on the screen of guys some just only in high viz, and then soon others were showing guys cocksucking, fucking, bondage, spitting into each others faces all in Hi Viz.

‘No wonder the Boss had such a boner,’ Rob thought as he started stroking his own stiff dick. ‘Christ this is making me feel so unbelievably horny. I didn’t think I could feel like this. Shit seeing all these guys having sex makes me want some bloody action.’

Leaning back in his chair he spread his legs out so he could firmly grasp his cock through the HiViz.

‘Christ I’ve cum already today but I feel I need to shoot another load,’ he said out loud

‘Then just as well we have come to help you out, eh boy?’

There was no time to shut off the computer as he spun round hearing the Boss’s voice. Standing inside the door was the Boss, Jeff, Bob and Jake.

‘Well Boss the boy has a nice packet there so we need to help him out,’ Jake said rubbing his crotch.

‘So you have been looking at my sites, you dirty little fucker. Sure got you hard. Just as well cause I’m feeling fucking horny too watching you and those pics and I’m also ready to shed a lot of spunk Not just me but all the boys here are needing some action, ain’t that right?’

‘Sure thing Boss we all need to cum and the boy is ready.’

‘Right as I’m the Boss I get first’ he said unbuttoning his 501s ‘ shit this is difficult pulling out my dick when its so fucking hard.’

‘Get over here boy and see what its like to suck a real man’s cock’

Whilst Rob felt total shock something in him was telling him he was about to have the best initiation possible and get to really suck the Boss’ dick rather than seeing from a window. Whatever was in that tea worked and wanted not just a piece of the action but all, as he stood seeing the other guys rubbing their HiViz and all of them showing a large bulge itching to unzip and get the cocks out.

‘On yer knees’ The Boss instructed.

Rob sank down in front and looked up at the Boss’s hunk of meat.

Christ it was so much bigger sitting in front, it was so thick and he could see the veins straining underneath with a gleaming head now exposed

‘Now that’s a cock for you. Get going and let the others see what you can do.’

Rob took the prick in his hand hardly able to get it around the diameter and then let a gob of spit drop onto the head.

‘Good boy you know what to do’

Holding the cock firmly he moved his mouth to take in the head.

‘I’m gonna choke on this he thought as his throat muscles tensed. But Rob so wanted that cock now he knew he had to relax as he wanted to feel the Boss’s pubes against his face.

‘You can start slowly lad as you’ve probably not sucked too many my size.’

Little by little he started moving his mouth further and further down the shaft breathing carefully so not to choke. The further in the dick went the more he wanted to feel it all the way down his throat.

‘That’s it boy’ The Boss said as he grabbed Rob’s head and forced him to take the full length when Rob could feel the wiry pubes pressing against his face.

‘Now I’m gonna work you a bit OK?’

The Boss started pushing and pulling Rob’s head as the slurping sound became louder and louder and the Boss’s groans got greater.

‘Shit well done boy you’re the best cocksucker around. Sorry Jeff but he is. I ain’t cuming yet.’ and with that he pushed Rob back and his dick sprung up covered in spit with the head starting to ooze precum.

Rob looked up and saw that the other three were around him and had their dicks out beginning to wank

‘Christ’ he thought ‘I don’t think I can suck off 3 others’

The Boss lifted him up like a bit of clothing and turned him around setting him on top of the desk pushing him so he was stretched out on his back

‘So lets get serious now, that was starters’

The Boss grabbed Rob’s waistband and zip and pulled his HiViz trousers down so they were around his ankles, until the Boss yanked them completely off him.

‘Now spread yer legs’ the Boss said as he forced Robs leg wide apart and brought him forward so his arse was right on the edge of the table.

‘Now your spit has got me all wet it’ll be easier for you to take me.’

The Boss moved forward and put two fingers up Rob’s arse moving them around. ‘Nice glory hole you’ve got there. You’ll be able to take me’

Taking his fingers out he inched his cock to Rob’s opening

‘Boss I’m not sure I can do this.’

‘If you want your job and want to be one of the guys then you’ll do what I want, got it? Now fucking relax and it will be easier.’

Before Rob could reply he felt the Boss’s cock splitting open his arse and for a moment he winced in pain.

‘Once it’s all in you will want every inch trust me. Now guys I want you to have some fun. Jeff because you sucked me off today I’ll let you get your dick down the boys throat. You other two can watch and work yerselves up to cum all over our new mate here. ‘

As the Boss pushed his cock deeper and deeper inside Rob’s arse so Jeff took his cock in one hand and Rob’s head in the other bringing it up to meet his rigid dick.

‘Go on Rob take my cock down your throat once you feel the Boss’s dick all the way up you will be sucking my dick for all you can.’

Seeing Jeff’s cock slid down Rob’s throat made the Boss push further and further inside until his pubes were tight against Rob’s arse

‘Shit Jeff seeing that cock of your going down the boys throat makes me even hornier. I’m gonna fuck him rigid but tell you what boys you take your lead from me . When I come I want all of you to release your cum and you two make sure his HI Viz shirt is soaked with your spunk.’

Jeff took his lead from the boss and as he slid his full shaft in so Jeff pushed his cock all the way down the throat.

‘Tell you what Boss the fact he’s had your cock down his throat makes it much easier for me.’

‘Fucking hell,’ Bob shouted, ‘seeing the lad with a cock each end has me fucking going.’

Rob felt he had a cock stretching from his arse to his lips. Once the full meat of the Boss’s dick was inside him he wanted rammed but he could say nothing as he took the full length of Jeff’s prick.

‘We have one of the lad here boys. Once he has had this he will not be going anywhere he’ll wait for his morning cuppa and then we can have a good daily fuck together. Now let me get right up and ram you boy.’

With his hand firmly wrapped around Robs knees  he pushed in and slowly withdrew to savour the full entry. But he was needing to shoot so the slow movement quickly increased until he was slamming his cock in and out all the up to his pubes. The more he pushed in and out the more his grunts increased. And Jeff watching how turned on the Boss was rammed his dick in and out of Rob’s mouth. He wanted to cum at the same time and seeing how Rob was taking the Boss’s prick made him even more excited.

‘I hope you two are ready,’ Jake said ‘as watching you have all the fun has me ready. Forget the gentle wank man I’m rubbing myself for all its worth.’

‘Me too.’ Bob said.

The Boss replied ‘Bob grab the boy’s cock. Its so fucking hard with me inside him we had better let him cum with us.’

Bob kept one hand rubbing his dick and with his other he wrapped his hand around Rob’s rigid prick and started to wank him furiously

‘OK guys lets get ready to cum. I want a fucking fountain. Shit I’m ready that’s such a fucking great arse of your boy. This is the first but not last time you’ll have me fuck you. Shit it’s coming. Go on lads shoooot.’

And with that as Rob felt the pressure of the Boss’s spunk shoot up him so he felt Jeff’s spunk race down his throat as if both spunks would meet inside him. The intense pleasure was too much and Rob ejaculated with three great wads of cum all the way up his shirt hitting his chin. Bob and Jeff at the same time let fly with their cum their first shot hitting across Rob at each other.

You could hear a great sigh as all five shed their loads

The Boss withdrew his cock and tucked it into his Levis, a stain showing through from the excess he had not squeezed out.

‘Fuck’ he said looking down, ‘better wear my Hi Viz jacket to cover this stain when going home. Right young man you had better get yourself to the toilet cabin and clean yourself up. Probably best to put back your other clothes on but take the Hi Viz back home and wash tonight as I expect you wearing it tomorrow.

So hope you have had a good day. You’ve passed your initiation. In fact expect another session tomorrow after you’ve had your mug of tea.’

‘This is best job ever Boss and as for the HiViz I’ll want to sleep in it soon.’

‘Good boy that’s what I like to hear. If you continue like this I’ll have you on the outdoor workforce. You could do with a few muscles. It has helped Jeff who used to do your job. Guys here work and fuck but many a day fuck and then work.’

‘I’ll do what you want Boss.’

‘You will.’