#after I stopped feeling angry over them. After I stopped trying to convince them that I know what is best for them

[writingforaliens]

I have been summoned!

Lily Taverel, better known during her Blackstaff days as "Tav", met Gale roughly 15 years before the events of BG3, when the two were the equivalent of grad students. Quiet and shy at first, Lily found her first real friend in her academic rival and officemate, and, over time, she revealed to Gale many, if not all, of her secrets: her loneliness, her neglectful, abusive parents, her pain and fear of being last. She even showed him her true self: Lilyseah Mithrellas, a half-elf who kept her features carefully obscured by an enchantment. And like most autistic nerds, they overthought their relationship constantly, leaving a lot of feelings unconfessed. When they finished their studies, Lily left for her "post-doc". Though they wrote each other often, and even visited each other with regularity, they continued to rationalize themselves out of any confessions or actions. Perhaps it was fear of the way they were just so made for each other, that nothing could be that perfect, that kept them apart, perhaps it was their inability to read people, perhaps it was the fear of driving away the best thing they'd ever known.

Around four years before BG3, Gale's letters stopped being addressed to "Lily" in favor of "Tav" before ceasing entirely over the course of the next year. Despite pleading to know what she did wrong and apologies for whatever it was, she never heard back. So, for the next three years, she tried over and over and over again to stop loving him, to little success.

She locked those feelings deep, deep in her chest, hoping they would someday shrink enough to be bearable.

When she helps Shadowheart pull a person from the half-functioning portal, the last one she expects to see is Gale Dekarios, the man that both she and his mother believed dead in some godsforsaken corner of the realm. The very same man that she'd been attempting to find on his mother's behalf.

And she's pissed.

Lily's already had a trying day, and he simply walks back into her life like her heart hasn't been shattered and now stomped on. Like he doesn't owe her an explanation. But, truth be told, despite her every wish to stay angry because he should deserve it, because he should beg her forgiveness, she can't stay that angry at him for long, not when they can still predict each other's movements and thoughts. Not when he still makes her laugh. Not when he comes to her and asks if she has any enchanted items.

And especially not when he finally apologizes and explains everything to her right after.

It's a fast, easy tumble from there to where they were years ago, an even easier tumble from there to quiet confessions on the cold floor of a Sharran temple, and, despite a small breakdown when Lily is forced to confront some more of her traumas, easier yet to a proposal and a pledge to each other not a day after the death of Ketheric Thorm.

They are legally married by the magistrate of some tiny town between Reithwin and Baldur’s Gate, at the last possible minute before the office closes--much to the frustration of said magistrate--with Tara being their only witness.

It takes some convincing, but Lily eventually agrees to a celebration in Waterdeep, and Gale gets to show off his wife, the one that almost everyone expected was coming at some point and no one is actually surprised by.

A Tav who knew Gale before. A Tav who might have loved him before. Before Mystra, before the orb, before his whole world came crashing down. They know him to be precise, logical, unrivalled in his craft. Then he disappeared. But who was Tav? They might have been a colleague, that sense of satisfaction they felt after his downfall suddenly vanishing as they really look at him for the first time. An old “friend” – they got drunk together down at the Yawning Portal once, counts as a friend, right? Did something else happen? Really, they don’t remember much at all, but the way they tiptoe around each other may be enough of an answer. A former lover, cast aside over his need to please a Goddess, finding themselves face to face with him again after years, unable to deny that same old spark. Doesn’t matter – whoever Tav was, whoever they are now – Gale certainly isn’t the same. How strange it must have been for both of them to have such different views of each other compared to their other companions, who only know this version of them. So imagine Tavs reluctance when they start feeling those butterflies. Imagine Gale, who will never be the same again – who is terrified because he will never be the same again – so desperate to give Tav a glimpse of his former glory, only for them to love him the way he is.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle on My Mind - Chapter 9

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: We're up to 1972, and just to flag the triggers on this one, still some dark topics being handled here.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 5.2K

TWs: Infidelity, angst, angry!Elvis, panty-sniffing!Elvis, some reference to domestic abuse (Elvis is not involved), reference to Elvis' bad health, dirty talk, phone sex, size kink, 70s views about women, crying, body shame, body worship, drug use.

Elvis thinks of Gloria often, wondering what she’s doing, how she’s feeling. Whether she’s going to turn up without warning to any of his concerts. After what she said about the postcards he resists the temptation to contact her. Jerry had found her address and phone number for him and he’s had to hide them from himself so as to avoid calling her whenever he wants to hear her voice. He runs their conversation through over and over again in his head, looking for clues. There was something off about the way she’d behaved, even accounting for tiredness, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He frowns and thinks it through one more time, and then pulls her panties out of his pocket. He seems to be carrying them everywhere he goes. 

***

“It’s over, Elvis. I want a divorce.”

Elvis doesn’t think this is the way he should be spending Christmas. Alone, crying in his bedroom. He desperately wants to call Gloria. He digs out the number from the giant pile of papers he’d hidden it in months ago and stares at the digits. It’s the middle of the day. Fuck it. 

“Hello?”

He recognises her voice immediately, and sighs with relief. “Glory.”

Gloria’s entire body goes cold. And then hot. She starts to feel dizzy and sits down. 

“Elvis,” she whispers. “You can’t call me here!”

“Cilla wants a divorce.”

“Roger doesn’t,” she snaps, irritated that he’d call her here with no regard for the consequences. 

Roger had lost interest in her lately. She’s pretty sure he’s fucking the maid, not that she can work out when he’d have the time to do it. She’d struggled to lose any of the weight she’d put on after Jackie, and if anything she’d probably put a little more on since. People kept asking her when she was due. It was embarrassing, but she didn’t seem to be able to do anything about it. The only benefit was that Roger thought it was disgusting, her being so heavy, the bags under her eyes, the spit up on her shoulder. So he didn’t touch her any more. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He had the habit of dragging her around roughly by her arm and occasionally he slapped her when she said something he didn’t like. Just once, he’d pulled her into the kitchen by her hair. But he certainly didn’t touch her intimately anymore.

There’s a dead silence on the end of the line, then the click of Elvis hanging up. Gloria stares at the receiver in shock and then slowly puts it down. She spends the rest of the day torn between relief that Roger can’t walk in on her talking to him, and a desperate need to hear his voice again. 

Elvis grabs the phone and throws it at the wall, shaking with rage. How dare she? How dare she speak to him like that?

***

Elvis spends the next few months trying to put Gloria out of his mind. Once Cilla tells him she’s shacked up with Mike Stone he tries to put all women out of his mind. Goes through a brief period of being convinced that celibacy is the option, reading the bible every day and praying to God that eventually he’ll stop feeling like this. So lost and alone. 

***

Despite the fact that he hung up on her, Gloria wants to see Elvis. She just writes that whole phone call off as a dead loss and pretends it didn’t happen. She plans a trip to Vegas with two of her old friends and her sister, to catch the end of his residency there. Gets Roger on a good day and is surprised when he agrees that she can spend the weekend somewhere other than their house. Her prison. That’s how she’s started thinking of it lately, imagining bars on the windows. 

One day when he’s at work she digs around in the purse she’d taken with her when she went to see Elvis play Cow Palace. Eventually finds what she’s looking for - the little scrap of paper he’d hastily given her when they parted, with a private phone number scrawled there. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, it’s um… it’s Gloria. Is…”

The voice on the other end of the phone interrupts her. “Just wait a minute.”

Her stomach flip-flops as she sits there, tapping her foot on the floor impatiently. She hadn’t been sure he’d want to talk to her, but the way the person who picked up the phone reacted she’s starting to think she was wrong. And then she sits there, and waits for ten minutes. Then another ten minutes. The pretence that had been holding up so well up until this point starts to fall apart. Maybe the phone call did mean something. Maybe she shouldn’t have snapped. Maybe this is some kind of elaborate punishment. Should she put the phone down this time? 

“Glory?” His voice sounds muffled, and like he’s slightly out of breath.

“I thought you were never coming to the phone.”

“Sorry… sorry… baby. I’m sorry about the last time too…” he trails off. His head hurts, his stomach hurts, everything hurts right now. He’d had to drag himself out of bed when Charlie had told him who was on the phone. It had taken far too long, but he’d kept blacking out. 

“Elvis, are you okay?” 

“Hmmm. Mmmm. Belly’s a little sore, Glory.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

Elvis bursts into a peel of laughter at the question, and it hangs in the air somehow, even though they’re on the phone. All he does is see the doctor. Doctors.

“Yeah. I’ve seen a doctor.” He finally replies. 

“Okay. Um… I was planning on coming to Vegas in the summer… if you wanted to see me…”

“Of course I want to see you, baby. When are you coming? I’ll get one of the boys to pick you up from the airport and bring you here.” 

They discuss the details for a while, and Gloria thinks Elvis is starting to sound a little more like his old self. Then she starts to suggest hotels she might stay in and he cuts her off. 

“Don’t waste your money on a hotel room. Stay with me.” 

“Oh, Elvis. I don’t know… I mean I thought I might spend some time with my friends…”

Elvis grunts in frustration. “So you don’t really want to see me, then?”

Gloria rubs her face with her hand and sighs, exasperated. What is she supposed to say now?

“I want to see you more than anything.”

“Then stay in my suite.”

She groans. “Can you just let me at least have my own hotel room? Even if I don’t stay in it? I just want somewhere to go back to if I need it.”

She’s starting to feel decidedly like there’s two disagreeable men in her life now.

“Fine,” he replies, sullenly. 

There’s a long silence. 

“Mr. Presley…” she drawls, deciding this is how to break it. 

“Hmmm?” 

“You still got those panties?”

She can hear the smile in his voice when he replies. “I sure do. Though they don’t smell as good as they used to.”

Her eyes flick around the room quickly, somehow feeling like she has to check for other people before she does anything this bold. 

“What’ve you been doing with them?”

Elvis swallows, hard. He’d been annoyed just a minute ago, frustrated with her and feeling like no women wanted to spend time with him any more. But suddenly the tone of her voice and those words have transported him back in time to that trailer on the set of Clambake. 

“They help me think about ya when I…” he trails off, awkwardly, feeling his cheeks start to colour. 

“When you what? Stroke that big dick of yours?” 

Her heart is pounding as she says it, she hasn’t said anything like this in so long. She feels a tingling between her legs and moves her hand there, over her panties. 

“Oh,” he says, quietly. “Is that what ya wanna know about?”

“Please,” she breathes, softly. “It’s what I think about when I touch myself. Wishing you were here.”

Her fingers rub circles on her clit as she talks. 

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s what I’m doing now.”

Elvis groans quietly, feeling his erection getting uncomfortable, even in his loose pyjamas. 

“It’s what I um… I-I think about ya a lot, Glory.”

Gloria giggles. She can imagine his red face, see his eyes darting around the place, feel his awkwardness. 

“Are you touching yourself?”

“N-n-no.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never done this before. “Y-y-y-you want me to?” He finally stutters out. 

“Are you hard?”

“Yes,” a strangled whisper.

“Then I want you to.”

He unties his robe and reaches into his pyjama bottoms to free his dick. Slowly pumping it up and down he can’t help but moan. Gloria bites her lip and slips her hand into her panties, sliding her fingers through her arousal and spreading it around her clit. She breathes hard into the receiver. 

“I wish you were here right now,” Elvis mumbles.

“What would you do if I was?”

“Fuck ya senseless, princess.”

It’s Gloria’s turn to moan now, overwhelmed by his words. “I’d love that,” she whispers. 

“Would ya?” He starts to feel his orgasm growing inside him, confidence building with it. “Is that what you want? To be fucked with this big dick?”

She whimpers. “Please, Daddy. Fill me up.”

He grunts as his hand moves faster and faster, making his words come out in a series of pants. “I’ll… fuck ya… stupid…”

“Please…” she begs again, her fingers moving more and more quickly on her clit, racing towards her orgasm. She starts babbling. “I can’t wait to see you. I want to be with you all the time. I don’t have to get a hotel room. I just want you… ohhhh.”

Hearing her climax, he only has to stroke himself one or two more times before he joins her. His moans sending shivers down her spine too. 

“Shit,” he mutters, looking at the mess he’s just made. 

Gloria giggles. “Did you enjoy that?” 

He can’t help sniggering back. “Maybe a little too much.”

She bites her lip, trying to picture him. Enjoying the mental image. Then she thinks back to what she said when she was just about to come.

“I meant it. I’ll stay with you in your suite. I don’t need a room.” She feels desperate for him now, wanting him to hold her now she’s done.

“No, honey. I’ll pay for a room for ya. Then you can decide how much time ya wanna spend in it. I shouldna snapped before. My belly’s been hurtin’ and… it’s been a rough few months. I’ve missed ya.”

“I’ve missed you too. Still miss you now. Wish you were here, holding me,” she sniffs, somehow unable to keep any of her feelings in. 

“I wish I was too, honey. I’ll see ya in September. Ya need me, call.”

***

“Listen. It’s none of my business what’s going on with you and Roger, or what you’ve done with Elvis,” Patricia begins, as they drive to the airport together. “I just want to know if we’ll see you at all on this vacation.”

Gloria smiles. She’s grateful that her sister is about as interested in what’s going on with her as she is in figuring out other people’s motives. She’d barely said a thing after the Cow Palace concert, only checking if Gloria was alright and making sure they had a story for Roger as to why they were back so late. 

“I don’t know, Pat. I want to spend time with the girls but Elvis wants to spend time with me too.”

“Do you want to spend time with him?” Patricia asks, gently. 

Gloria nods quickly. “Of course. It’s not every day I get to see him, is it?” Or even every year, she thinks. 

“It’s not every day you get to see Sandra and Carol either.”

“Well they never come and see me, it’s not like they live far.”

“You never go and see them.” 

Gloria sighs deeply. This is far more intrusion than she’s used to from her sister. 

“Roger doesn’t like it.”

“Doesn’t like what?” 

“Me seeing them. So I don’t. It’s just easier that way.”

Patricia frowns, but she doesn’t push it any further. She supposes Roger has a right to decide what his wife does, to a certain extent. Not that her husband was like that at all. But she never did anything he disagreed with, and Gloria could be quite a tearaway. Or certainly had been in the past. Roger probably thought she needed a little discipline. 

***

Gloria is overwhelmed with joy to see her friends again. They drink cocktails on the plane and laugh and talk about old times. Then they talk about Elvis a little. They both know something has happened from the look on Gloria’s face when they say his name, so they question her about it in hushed tones. Neither of them are entirely convinced, though, until they see the limousine pull up for them outside of the airport. Elvis has spared no expense, there are bottles of champagne inside and he’s left instructions with the driver to take them to all the most exclusive boutiques, telling them to charge his account with whatever they want. Gloria finds he’s left her something else too - a beautiful glittering evening dress at the first store they pull up to. 

She takes it to the fitting room to try on and almost cries. It’s far too small. This is for a pre-pregnancy Gloria. A Gloria who delighted in running about in the skimpiest of clothes, who loved being naked whenever she could. She sniffs. She supposes Elvis didn’t really notice the additional weight too much, when she saw him last. She’d tried to dress cleverly to disguise it and he’d been very occupied teasing her. Besides, she wasn’t at her heaviest then anyway. She’d really started eating junk that Christmas and not stopped since. 

She wipes her face and tries to put on a smile for the shop assistant. 

“I’m… I’m really sorry but it’s too small…” her voice comes out more quietly than she expects, but she’s just greeted with a broad smile. 

“Oh don’t worry, you can exchange it for a bigger size,” the assistant tells her, leading her over to the rack. 

The dress she pulls on is two sizes bigger than the one he’d picked, but it does look good. It’s just about sparkly enough to distract from her extra weight, and luckily it’s not skin tight. She walks out to show Carol and Sandra, and they gasp when they turn around and see her in it. They were a little shocked at how she looked when they first saw her after so long, and tried their best not to say anything. Having two small kids is tough, lord knows they’d both struggled. But the dress was such a contrast. She’d pulled her hair out of her usual messy bun and it tumbled over her shoulders like strands of gold. The combination of that and the dazzling sequins made her look like a movie star. 

“Oh my God! You look incredible! He is going to fall at your feet in that, Gloria.”

Gloria can’t help grinning in response. “Oh, thanks! He’s got such good taste,” she replies, twirling around and looking at her reflection in the long mirror. 

“He certainly does.”

The limo driver explains that Elvis has more plans for them, and takes them to get their nails and their makeup done and their hair styled, and then finally to their hotel. He waits outside for them to check in, get changed and leave their bags, and then drives them to the Hilton. 

Gloria doesn’t think she’s ever been this dolled up in her life, and she loves it. They’re ushered to Elvis’ private box just in time for the music to start and the curtain to come up. She watches him walk on stage with her heart in her mouth. He looks just as gorgeous as ever, although a little different from the last time she saw him. He’s in a beautiful powder blue suit and it sparkles in the light. She can’t help but feel that he picked her outfit to match him, and imagines them standing side by side. As he starts to sing and move about onstage her daydream develops. Suddenly this is her wedding dress and her and Elvis are taking their vows, dressed like this. And then they welcome people into their house afterwards, into Graceland, her arm in his, both of them glittering like the sun. 

***

Elvis is eagerly introducing Gloria to everyone in the suite. She can’t believe how much space he has, there’s a lounge with a piano and several bedrooms, as well as at least one enormous bathroom with a jacuzzi bath. But all the space is filled with people. She enjoys it at first, and then rapidly starts to get tired. She used to be such an extravert but after so long with only her kids for company she’s forgotten how to talk to people. And it’s so late. They only arrived in time for the midnight show and it’s already 3am. She’s used to an early bedtime, and she keeps having to cover up her yawns. Elvis can’t take his eyes off her though. He keeps her at his side the whole time, showing her off to anyone who’ll listen. 

Gloria leans her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. I’ll just rest them for a second, she thinks. Elvis goes to get up to get involved in yet another round of singing around the piano, but as he does he realises the weight on his shoulder is strangely heavy. He looks down at her, eyes closed, peacefully sleeping against him. Oh Glory, he thinks, wondering if he can pick her up and move her without her waking. Then she stirs and her eyes open slowly. 

“Oh… sorry…” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes and smudging her make-up a little.

“Shhh. Why dontcha go to my bedroom? I’ll get rid of everyone else.”

She nods and gets up slowly, kicking her shoes off and then padding over to the main bedroom. He smiles as he watches her go. Her ass looks damn good in that dress. 

Gloria makes a cursory attempt at washing her makeup off and then strips, looking around for something to wear in bed. Unable to see anything straight away she gets in naked, thinking she’ll figure it out in the morning. There’s no way she can stay awake long enough to do anything with Elvis tonight, maybe by tomorrow she’ll find a nightie or something she can wear to cover herself up a little. 

It takes Elvis a while to chat to everyone as they leave, he hadn’t wanted to just chuck them out unceremoniously, but he starts to regret that as soon as he walks into the bedroom and sees Gloria in bed, fast asleep. 

He gets changed into pyjamas and slips into the bed beside her, swallowing down his pills. Stroking her hair gently, he thinks how glad he is that she’s here, slipping off to a dreamless sleep almost immediately. 

***

Gloria wakes at 7am as usual, sees the time and immediately closes her eyes again. Not. Enough. Sleep. She tosses and turns for a bit and then finally manages a couple more hours. When she wakes again she knows there’s no point in trying to sleep any more. Groaning, she turns over and looks at Elvis. He’s fast asleep and shows no signs of waking any time soon. She gets up and rummages about in his drawers, finding some pyjamas and putting them on, rolling up the legs and arms since they’re far too long for her. Since he’s still dead to the world, she makes her way out of the room in search of coffee. 

It’s quiet in the suite too, but she finds the kitchen and in it is a tall handsome-looking man with longish dark hair. 

“Hi,” he says, warmly, holding out a hand. “I’m Jerry.”

“Hi. Gloria.” She pauses, looking around. “Any coffee?”

He nods, picking up the jug on the hotplate and pouring her a cup. “Cream and sugar?”

She shakes her head. “Black is fine.” She doesn’t usually take her coffee black, but suddenly she’s thinking she should’ve spent less time over the months leading up to this having so much cream and sugar. 

“Elvis ok?” He asks. 

She frowns a little. “He’s still asleep.”

Jerry shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot for a moment and then decides he should just tell her. 

“Usually someone keeps an eye on him.”

“Well, presumably not since his wife left him. Or do you guys go in there? Is that one of your little jobs?”

Jerry snorts. “No. But I mean… usually there’s someone with him.”

Gloria takes a sip of coffee and winces at the bitterness. Then she realises what he means. 

“Oh, you mean some other girl.”

He nods and grimaces a little. “Sorry…”

“No need to apologise. It’s not you. Besides, I’ve got no claim on the man. Haven’t seen him in just about two years,” she shrugs. “And I have a husband. So I’m in no position to judge.”

She doesn’t say it, but it does sting a little. Knowing he’s had other women, even if they were just one night stands. 

Jerry looks at her and smiles. “He’s sweet on you though. I haven’t seen him like this for anyone else.”

Gloria raises both eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

His smile broadens. There’s something lovely about watching her face light up when he says it. As if she hasn’t had a compliment in a while. 

“Had us running around like mad men trying to get everything ready for you. The way he talks about you, I think it’s you he should’ve…” he pulls himself up short, realising what he’s about to say. “I-I mean… it’s none of my business but… well he was virtually a recluse at the start of the year, but he told us all that if you called we had to tell him. You’re the only girl he wanted to speak to.”

Gloria pauses for a moment to take all this in. “It took him 20 minutes to get to the phone,” she says quietly, at last.

“Probably the effects of the pills. Or…” he trails off again. “I shouldn’t be telling you this stuff, he wouldn’t like it.”

Gloria smiles again. “It’s okay. You think I should go back in there though? To watch him?”

Jerry nods. “Check he’s still breathing, hasn’t choked on…” he trails off again. Something about Gloria makes him want to tell her everything, but he knows Elvis would be pissed if he knew. 

Gloria guesses what he was about to say. She just nods. “I’m a mom. I can look after people.”

They look at one another for a moment and then both smile. Gloria had always doubted the integrity of the guys around Elvis, doubted their utility as well really, but she likes Jerry. He seems genuine. 

“You want breakfast? I can order you something from room service and bring it in, if you’re not going to go back to sleep.”

“Oh, that would be great. Just some poached eggs on toast please. I should be watching my figure.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Sure, I’ll knock when they’re here.”

Gloria thanks him and as she walks away Jerry thinks she’s not the only one watching her figure right now. Then he shakes his head quickly. It doesn’t do any use to start lusting after Elvis’ girls. That only leads to bad things. 

***

Gloria spends the next few hours drinking coffee and watching Elvis sleep. At some point Jerry brings her the eggs and she eats them sitting on the bed too, somehow completely captivated by the man lying next to her. He’s not even doing anything, she thinks. How can I just be sitting here, watching him, when he’s not even doing anything? She wonders about the snippets of information she got from Jerry, and then resolves not to ask Elvis about them. She only has this weekend with him, and then God only knows when she’ll see him again. She doesn’t want to waste precious time talking about things neither of them will enjoy. Not unless he brings it up. 

Eventually he wakes up, groggily, and his squinting eyes finally see her in the semi-darkness. She hasn’t even really wondered about the blacked-out windows, but they do make it pretty dark even though it’s past midday. 

“Glory,” he whispers. “What time is it, baby?”

“Time you woke up,” she teases, reaching down to stroke his cheek. “I’ve been all lonely here without you.”

He lets out a snort and then slowly tries to make his way to a seated position. His hair is sticking up everywhere and Gloria can’t help laughing. She tries to smooth it down. 

“Big boy, your hair is out of control.”

His face lights up at the pet name and he splays his legs out, patting his lap for her to get on. She frowns a little. 

“C’mon baby. What’sa matter? Thought ya were lonely without me?”

“I um… I’ve put on a little weight, Elvis. I don’t wanna crush you.”

He pulls a face. “You? Crush me? Don’t be silly.” Without warning he leans forward and grabs her by the hips, manhandling her into his lap. She is a little heavier than he remembered but she’s still easy enough for him to move around. 

Resting her forearms on his shoulders she looks at him almost shyly. “I guess you’re pretty strong.”

His hands pull her against him, splaying over her back and making her almost feel small again. “Strong as an ox, Glory. And you’re looking good.” One of his hands moves to her ass and grabs a handful. “This ass in that dress last night…” he whistles. “Hard to keep my hands off it.”

She finds herself giggling and blushing a little. It’s been so long since someone complimented her like this. She’d almost jumped Jerry in the kitchen when he was the tiniest bit kind to her earlier.

“Oh is that so?”

“It is. Made me think how much I can’t wait to have ya from behind…” he chuckles naughtily, raising an eyebrow. 

Gloria can’t help smiling back, but she knows she has to tell him how she feels. 

“I um… I feel a bit self-conscious about my belly though… I should’ve… dieted or something before I came here…” looking around awkwardly. 

Elvis shakes his head, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Nothin’ to be self-conscious about baby.”

Gloria grumbles slightly as his hands slide up and down her back reassuringly. 

“Ya mind if I touch it?” He asks, sweetly. 

“Oh, um… I’m not sure…” she protests, weakly. 

“Mmm. C’mere,” kissing her and letting one hand drift under her pyjama top. “I’ll be gentle.”

He keeps kissing her, melting her, his fingers slowly moving under her top. He can feel her tremble as his hand moves over the squidgy flesh of her belly, fingers lingering where she hates to even look. He slowly unbuttons the top and then both of his hands are all over her, feeling her, her breasts, her collarbones, her abdomen. He pulls back to admire her flushed face and her naked body, eyes roaming all over her. She quickly tries to pull her pyjama top back together again, blushing harder, the spell momentarily broken. 

“Nuh-uh,” he tells her, gently picking her up and rolling her onto her back, with him on top. Kissing her lips until he feels her relax again, and then making his way down her throat, between her breasts and over the curve of her belly. Paying particular attention to the flesh there, kissing as he moves it around with his hands. 

Gloria feels drunk on all the kisses and she doesn’t want to fight him anymore. Tears prick her eyes as he carries on with his feather-light kisses, loving on her. 

“Baby, you are so beautiful,” he tells her, looking up at her. “I don’t wanna ever hear you say anything negative about yourself again, y’hear?”

She nods dumbly, swallowing hard and trying not to let the tears out. He moves back up her body, kissing her lips again. 

“What happened to my filthy-mouthed little girl, hm?”

The tears she was trying to hold in suddenly spill out, and she’s crying again. Every time she sees him now, she cries. So much for not wasting the precious time she has with him. 

“I shouldn’t have married him!” She sobs. 

Elvis rolls off her onto his side, pulling her with him and into a tight embrace, shushing her and stroking her hair. 

“What’s he done?” He asks, when he feels her sobbing start to subside. “You need me to hurt him? Glory I’ll kill him if he’s laid a finger on you.”

“N-no,” she stutters, “he hasn’t hurt me. Not like that.” Well, he had. But was that really worth mentioning now?

“What has he done?” Elvis is insistent now, pulling back so that he can see her face. 

“I just… he doesn’t want me anymore. Now I’m done making babies for him, he’s not interested anymore. I’m sure he’s fucking the maid.”

Elvis looks furious. “Fucking someone else when he has you.”

It briefly crosses Gloria’s mind that that’s exactly what Elvis is doing, but she knows better than to mention that right now. She doesn’t want to get Jerry fired. 

“Hmmm.”

“Why don’t you leave him? Come and live with me? Cilla and I… well you know she left me.”

Gloria knows. She remembers the phone call. She remembers seeing it in the papers. She knows that’s why she’s here, on some level. But it’s not as simple as all that. This is Elvis Presley. 

“My kids, Elvis. I can’t just… up and move them. And he’ll fight me for custody, I know he will. How will it look, me fucking a rockstar? I hardly seem like mom of the year right now…”

Elvis huffs. “But you’re mine. You should be mine. You should be here, with me.”

Gloria frowns a little. “I am here with you, big boy. I wish I could be with you all the time, but it’s not just me I have to consider…”

“Your kids would love it in Memphis. They’d have little Yisa to play with too.”

She sighs a little. “Yeah, I’m sure they would. But I have to get a divorce soon, and you know how long that might take…”

He snorts with annoyance. “Damn divorce. Damn money. Damn woman.”

Gloria frowns again, feeling like he’s not making the most sense right now. Then she thinks of something. 

“You want breakfast?”

He suddenly snaps back into the room, after angrily staring into space thinking about his divorce. 

“Shit. Yes. I’m starving.”

She smiles. Maybe that was it. Maybe he’s just hungry. That’s what she’ll tell herself.

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy @argangelbornxoxo

[lesbiradshaw]

just started thinking about bradley as a teenager struggling with his emotions both pre and post his mother’s death/fall out with maverick but not wanting to reach out for help because a history of mental health problems can get you disqualified from enlisting in the service. happy saturday guys.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: angst, toxic traits, somewhat bullying, breakup

♡ FEM reader

You’re his first girlfriend. He’d never bothered with anything serious before—it seemed too messy to trifle with. He doesn’t know why he suddenly decided. Suppose he’d been feeling a little bored, and something within him saw you as a fool-proof opportunity.

It wasn’t because you were anything special. Actually, it was more the opposite. You didn’t seem like too big of a risk. You were just a normal, honest, nice person—a bit of a loser, too, if he was being honest. He could do a lot better and pick someone of the same caliber as him, someone with a cooler style and presence, but then he’d only get caught up in the competition.

You were more to his appetite—a dorky, blushy lil’ nerd who giggled nervously at everything he said. In other words, no competition at all. You’d never dare break his heart because you frankly couldn’t afford it. And he found solace in that imbalance—knowing he held all the cards and that you could only be grateful he’d chosen you.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. But then, here you are, holding his hands from across the table in a cute little sundae café, telling him how this just can’t work anymore.

He’s confused for a whole minute before it sinks in.

You’re breaking up with him.

He’s confused afterward, too.

You’re breaking up with him?

That can’t be right. You must be joking. He almost laughs, almost cackles, but ends up staying completely silent. Something about that pitiful look in your eye makes his throat tight, and he almost thinks he’s going to cry instead. 

You’re breaking up with him. You, with him. His foot starts to tap. Have you hit your head or something? You’re dressed in a hoodie, for crying out loud, with not an ounce of make-up on—effortless, as if his perception of you wasn’t any of your concern while you’re fucking breaking up with him.

No way. There’s just no way. You must be confused about something, is all. There’s absolutely no way you’re doing this.

“What are you talking about?” It comes angry. Louder than he’d intended, enough to make you jolt in your seat. A couple of heads even turn your way. You wait for them to turn back before answering.

“I just think we’re a bit too different. And… I don’t know…” You were trying to find ways of telling him you weren’t in love with him but ended up deciding it was unnecessary—it wasn’t exactly something he needed to hear even though you had a lot you could say.

You’re rude and arrogant and treat me like some rescue pet you’ve nurtured back to health. You act like you’re embarrassed to be with me even though you’re the one without any friends. You’re selfish and spoiled and—

“If you don’t know, then there’s nothing to talk about. Quit being silly.” He has a furrow between his brows as he picks up the pink menu between the two of you, scanning the different types of milkshakes you could share and forget all about it. After all, you weren’t breaking up with him—that would just be absurd. “Let’s get strawberry.”

“No—”

“Guess we could get mango if you want that instead—”

“I’m not sharing drinks with you—”

“What? You tryna lose weight or something? Not like anyone but me is gonna see you when all you wear are those baggy hoodies all the time. Speaking of which, you should wear mine instead, they’d suit you better—”

“Listen.” You stop his rambling. “I’m not sharing drinks, and I’m not wearing your clothes. I’m not being silly, either. I’m being serious. It’s over—”

“No, it’s not.” His fist bangs against the table—the look in his eye on edge and twitchy. “I asked you why, and you had no good reason—so it’s not, not until you convince me.”

You had wanted to avoid it, but it seems he wouldn’t allow you the grace to spare him. That being said, you hadn’t meant to be so brutally honest…

“You’re a narcissist. You don’t treat me like a girlfriend. I’m more like a charity case or some type of experiment to you. Half the time, it feels as though you’re just playing a game with everyone in your life like pawns for you to shuffle around the board as you see fit.” You’re the one with the furrowed brows now, unable to bite your tongue as you’d kept it in all this time. “I think you should seek help and get your controlling tendencies straightened out before having any type of relationship. Or don’t. In any case, I don’t think I’m the right girl for you.”

There’s a silence. The chatter of the café seems distant. You feel half inclined to apologize as you look at him and stare down the glassy tabletop as if trying to find his reflection for comfort—but then he beats you to the punch.

“You’re right…” he starts softly, mustering the words, and you’re almost proud to see him take it so well, but then there’s a viscousness to his next words. “You’re not the right girl for me.”

When he looks up again, his face is warped—callous and seemingly disgusted by the sight of you. Something about it even seems to lash out at you, seeking revenge.

“I can’t believe I thought I saw something in you,” he sighs. “Turns out you’re exactly what everyone warned me you would be—just a plane-boring old Jane. What a joke—wasting so much time on something so worthless. Forget breaking up with me, I should have broken up with you a long time ago.”

He gets up in a rush and bears over the table, both palms laid flat upon the surface.

“Charity case?” he seethes, then conjures a fake laugh and an even faker grin. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. Enjoy sitting here alone like the loser you are.”

And even though you’re the one watching him walk away while ordering a chocolate sundae for yourself, you can’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy… 

That had been the most emotion you’d ever witnessed come from him.

Obviously, he doesn’t take it very well, stumbling through the café before bursting out the door, but even he’s surprised by how disheveled it had made him. He’s hyperventilating when the fresh air hits him, almost sprinting to his car so that he can lock himself inside it.

But the car only makes it worse as he’s far from alone in there. You’re everywhere. On the hood, waiting for him with a smile. In the rearview mirror, waving at him. In the seat next to him with a pout, asking if you can stay over. In the backseat, naked with a coy twinkle in your eye.

He knows! He has some of your underwear at home—he’ll threaten to pass them around campus unless you beg him to take you back. No, what’s he thinking!? You’ll never come back to him that way. Fuck, what can he do, what’s he supposed to do!? He just called you worthless—what that fuck was he thinking?!

The tears startle him as they drip down and splash upon his whitening knuckles, where he grips the wheel for dear life even as the car stays completely still—safe and sound in the same plot.

There’s a light pink lip balm on the dash. Yours. You must have left it there—maybe on purpose? No… you don’t play games like that. You’d been honest in the café. The fact terrifies him—his heart seems to want to reject it at all costs, the way it tears in his chest.

He picks the slim pink stick up and rolls it around in his hand, which can’t seem to stop shaking. You’d sat on his lap in this very seat, laughing at something dumb he’d said while applying the very same balm on his lip—kissing his forehead while saying something sweet. He knows it wasn’t, but he imagines you’d whispered that you loved him.

When he smears the balm around his lips this time, he imagines kissing you and your soft lips and that everpresent smile he never bothered telling you was pretty.

He’s such an idiot. The birds in the parking lot take flight at the jostling of his car, but no one hears the roar.

And as he sits there in the following silence, wallowing in his own self-pity and regret, he can’t help but feel like the lead of some angsty teen romance.

And like the lead in an angsty teen romance, he swears… whatever it takes… he will win you back.

You will be his again.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Gojo, Naoya, some young type of Sukuna, or Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[kataraslove]

If you want to write fanfics about Aang and Katara getting a divorce, then whatever, that’s your prerogative. You’re exploring it in a fanon scenario; that doesn’t make you a weirdo.

What DOES make you a weirdo is insinuating that the Ember Island Players kiss is the equivalent to a rape scene. Or that any woman who ships Kataang endorses rape, which completely trivializes SA. EIP has a conclusion; the narrative points Aang as being in the wrong. Katara rightfully berates him. He doesn’t do it ever again. Following the kiss, he gives her space to come to terms with her feelings. In the finale, SHE is the one to take agency and initiate the final kiss. That’s the resolution. Was it properly handled? No. Will this doom Katara/Aang as a relationship or impact how Aang carries on any relationship for the rest of his life? Also no. We see learned behaviour in the finale of the show. We see learned behaviour in post-canon content.

Do you ship Aang with Toph, or anyone else? If you answered yes, why would you - in your own words - ship a “rapist” with another female character? And if you say, it’s because Toph wouldn’t let him do that to her, I’m going to stop you right there because at that point you’d just be victim blaming Katara, as if it was any moral failing on her end. A “rapist” will carry out the same patterns and behaviours, no matter what relationship. So either you wholeheartedly believe that Aang is toxic and a rapist, or you’re trivializing SA for the sake of a ship war (which I do believe you’re doing).

Did you enjoy Zuko kidnapping Katara and tying her up to a tree? Did you ship Zutara after he betrayed her and led her to her near death? What about in the post-canon comics when he grabbed to the point where he was hurting her? Are those not examples of toxicity? Should I arrive at the conclusion that you, too, glorify toxic relationships? Like sorry, you haven’t given me a single reason to point out that you actually care about matters like SA - especially when you’re blaming women for it.

Not to mention: Zuko was genuinely toxic in his relationship with Mai. He has INSANE jealousy issues. He throws a man across the room for speaking to Mai. He accuses Mai of liking a man just because she LOOKED at him. He screams at her and insults her in front of everyone. Then at the end, he expresses little remorse and regret, it gets excused by the narrative by having Mai take him back. Why aren’t you defining Zuko as toxic?

Your message oozes of internalized misogyny. There’s plenty of men who defend the EIP kiss, yet you’re only targeting women. Women have every right to engage in consuming whatever fictional relationships they want, and women have every right to call you out on your ridiculous comments. You have no authority over them.

Lastly, saying that you headcanon Katara and Aang having a divorce? Sure, that’s a headcanon. Trying to genuinely convince people that Katara and Aang canonically got divorced even though there is irrefutable proof that they stayed together until Aang’s death WILL have people give you the internet equivalent of weird looks. Throwing a tantrum and crying out “Zutara is canon!” like a toddler will DEFINITELY earn your fair share of annoyed and angry comments.

Can we stop glorifying toxic relationships? I see this so much nowadays. Liking two characters together because they're both gay, who cares that they're toxic for one another? A couple being canon doesn't make it less toxic. I can't say I believe Katara and Aang would have divorced eventually because I get called a super weirdo on YouTube because I'm a fanfic writer and I'm betting that person may be a woman because us women nowadays have become pathetic. I'm sorry if that's offensive but if you're defending Aang kissing Katara without consent then you should be okay if your boyfriend kisses you without permission. Or if they rape you...it's super romantic right girls? Or defending Shiro/Adam just because they're a gay couple even though Adam manipulated and gaslit Shiro. Or saying Phoebe was at fault for being emotionally abused and manipulated by Cole. Girls if you're this toxic to yourself, pray to God you don't find a man like Aang, Adam or Cole because that will be your real punishment.

[yougavememyopia]

Tags: PT 1. 18+. Crying subby kidnapper, angst ig, finger sucking, spit (a bit?), choking, handjob

-----------------------♡♡-------------------------

"Are you not gonna talk to me?" Your kidnapper pouted, tilting his head innocently. He was good at pretending like the situation you were in was normal. "Come on, I thought you enjoyed last night..."

The events replayed in your head. You felt a rush of heat as you recalled the events. Your body was sore. Very, very sore.

"I'll wait as long as it takes, y'know. Just gonna sit here, and cuddle with you until you speak. Or you could talk to me now... Please?"

His side hug got tighter as silence grew. He whined loudly, burying his face in your marked neck. Your arms rested on your lap. You were not tied anymore. Free to do as you please. Not like you could walk though.

He had you dressed in clothes he stole from you before. They smelled like him. His embrace was warm, comfortable. Was it wrong to hug him back? You hadn't spoken since breakfast, trying to sort your feelings while he rested his head on your chest.

"Am I really that unlovable?" He whispered, but you heard him. You heard the pain in his voice, the shaky breath that escaped him. He was going to cry. Last time, it was out of pleasure when he was buried deep inside you, confessing his love over and over again.

He stopped hugging you, sitting up right. You shifted your position and looked at him. Those tears made you feel different. A bad twist in your stomach. Your hands gripped the fabric of your pants tighter, unsure of what to do.

"I thought I was doing something right. I was so convinced that after last night, things would be different. I thought everything would be different. I love you! I showed you how much love I can give you. In every way possible. I'd do anything for you. Isn't that enough?"

You held in your sigh. Poor, delusional boy. Mistaking true love for an obsession. Kidnapping, forcing, manipulating, all in the name of love. You shouldn't blame him. Apperently, no one taught him how to behave normally.

"W-why are you looking at me like that? Please don't look at me like that! I can't have you hate me. Please don't hate me. Please. Please. Please."

He was sobbing loudly. He was always very loud. Very emotional. Very weak. He was shaking. Snot running down his nose and he quickly wiped them with his sleeve.

"I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be alone. I need you. I need you. I can't live without you. I can't breathe without you. I'll die without you!"

He grabbed the hand you reached out to him. Holding it with his unusually cold hands. His whole body was shaking, his other hand wrapped around his mouth to silence himself, his fat tears still streaming down his face. He seemed out of it, staring at the floor with wide eyes while you stared at him profile. Then he fell down to the floor. Right in front of the couch, on his knees, looking up at you. His hands clasped around yours as he started pleading with you.

"You're angry, right? That's all, you're just angry! That's okay. You can take it all out on me. I don't mind it. At all. My body is for your use. I'm yours. I'm all yours. So go on. Hit me. Slap me. Punch me. Spit on me. Step on me. Choke me. Abuse me. What will make you satisfied? Please, tell me..."

He looked up at you with glassy eyes. His tears finally stopped. He loosened his grip on your hand, and you quickly cupped his face. He sighed in relief, nuzzling into your palm. He was waiting. Waiting for your answer, your approval, any scrap of love that you'll give to him. He needed it so badly that he was willing to do anything.

"Use me. Degrade me. Control me. Just talk to me. Pay attention to me. Love me! Please! I'm yours. I'm all yours to use."

You grazed his bottom lip, his lips immediately parted. You mumbled to him to lick your fingers. Your index and middle rubbing against his tongue. He moaned, immediately lapping your skin. His mouth closed around them, and he sucked while keeping eye contact. His lewd look was enough to send a rush between your legs.

"Aah~" He kept making sounds as he licked between your fingers. His face twisted in pleasure. Laying his head on the soft plush of your thigh. He pulled away, and you allowed him to talk. "Punish me. Please punish me. I've been a bad boy, right? You can't just let me get away with it. You need to teach me a lesson-!"

He groaned out the last word as your leg pressed against the hardness of his pants. You sighed, feeling him go stiff. "Sure, I'll teach you a lesson."

"Mmh, ah.. thank you. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't say it enough. Now please, please, use me. Use me. I'm yours. I'm yours. Yoursyoursyoursyours!"

You stopped moving your leg against his crotch, and he stopped humping it. Each movement was making him more excited, but he didn't protest when you stopped. You patted the spot next to you, and he obediently came back to sit on the couch.

"Let me tell you what's going to happen." You face him, holding his hands in yours. He squeezed them, and you assumed that was his way of ignoring the tent in his pants. "Things are going to be different. You're not gonna hold me hostage. I'm allowed to leave. But I'll live with you. And we could be like spouses or whatever you said last night."

His face went through several emotions. From excited, to confused, to scared, and back to happy. He opened his mouth, but you immediately shushed him. You covered his mouth, glaring at him. "You're not allowed to talk until after I'm done helping you with your problem."

He nodded. You felt him gulp as you stared at the bulge in front of his pants. Your own core throbbed. The thought of seeing him make those noises and look at you with that lovesick look on his face had you clenching your thighs together. Last night was all about making you come, so you never actually got to see him. You felt excited. "Let me see you. Go on."

He immediately pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock springing out. Precum was rolling down the tip, his legs spread wider, and his hands grabbed the sides of the couch. He whimpered as you stared at him for a bit. You started by spitting down on him, grazing his tip with your thumb before stroking his length. There was no need for it, but you just wanted to test out all the things he said before. He reacted by pushing his hips up. His thighs were shaking. His head fell back, and his back arched.

"Nngh! Fuck.. Aah, that feels so good. Thank.. you-!" The look he gave you was filled with absolute love. His words all mumbled up. "B-but why aren't you punishing me? I thought-"

You cut him off by speeding up. He whined loudly, hips thrusting up to meet with your strokes. "Let's take it easy right now, okay? Plus, we have plenty of time for all that."

"But you should punish me 'cause I'm about to come. Ah! Sorry! Sorry.. can't take much more. It feels so good! Ah, fuck."

You chuckled. "Come on then. Come for me." Your other grabbed his throat and squeezed it. His hips thrusted up immediately. He made a loud pleasured noise, his teary eyes fluttering shut as he finished. His stomach got all messy, as did your hand. You helped him calm down through his high, giving a few gentle strokes. "There you go. Good boy. Such a good boy..."

Your clean hand met up to stroke his hair while he cried happily. Whispering thank you's, and opening his mouth to clean your fingers from his release. Smiling happily at you as you messaged his scalp. His hair was so soft. You gripped his chin, leaning in to kiss his lips.

"You know if you do that, I'll get excited again.. And then you'll have to punish me for real."

You softly laughed, deciding to kiss him anyway. He responded by pressing his lips happily against yours. His mouth opened to allow your tongue in. Soft sounds escaping botn of you. Last night was repeating itself. This time, it'll be all about him.

[feral4daryl]

need a part 2 of sweet scent with pervy daryl trying to explain it to you but you couldn't get it cuz you'd never done anything like it so he says he's gonna show you how good it feels and has to muffle your screams so no one in the house hears you as his cock practically splits your tiny cunt in half and he uses his thumb to rub ur clit to try and make u relax.........

I'm crazy but I'm free

masterlist and other infos || MDNI

sweet scent pt2.

perv!daryl x innocent!fem!reader

summary: after getting caught sniffing your panties by you, daryl persuades you into giving your precious virginity away to him while your dad's just in the next room.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl's is in late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18 [or older, it's up to you]), 18+ smut, praising, dubcon? (reader lacks enthusiastic consent at first and daryl has to do some convincing), panty gagging, p-in-v, blowjobs, cunnilingus, masturbation, manipulation, petnames, daddy kink, orgasm denial, mentions of dumbification, mentions of degradation.

word count: 6.2k

a/n: the following content contains some extreme fetishes and kinks that some readers might find disturbing, so if you're not comfortable with any of those, please do not proceed. click here to read part 1.

<previous chapter>

[...] His movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. He sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. He opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

Then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

You. Standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

"U-uncle Daryl?"

---

Shit.

You definitely weren't what Daryl expected to see when he opened his eyes, the remains of his freshly busted nut all over his hand and his cock out, fully on display. For a good 5 seconds, he just freezed, completely unsure of what to do. But then, it hit him. He freaked out.

His eyes got as big as they possibly could and he immediately pulled his cock in his pants back again, clumsily trying to regain his composure, taking a little longer than usual due to his nervousness. Meanwhile, you just stood there with an unreadable expression. You didn't look exactly shocked, or angry, or anything like it. You looked strangely curious, with your head slightly tilted to the side.

Daryl shook his hand to get rid of some of his essence that was still sticking to it and then rubbed it on the side of his pants, on the hip area. Still not capable of looking you in the eyes, he quickly glanced at your frame and finally broke the awkward silence.

“Y/N? W-What'r'ya doin' here?” Stuttering was very unusual for Daryl, considering that although he was a man of very few words, he was always very direct and precise with them. Maybe playing it cool as if you hadn't just caught him in the act was the way out of that unpleasant situation.

“Well...” You let out a small chuckle and took a step closer to him. “This is my room.” His awkward smile immediately faded away.

“Oh, uh... I was jus’...” He looked around the room, searching for anything to use as an excuse for being there. But before he could start, you interrupted him.

“I didn't leave with the others, daddy told me to stay here to take care of you. He's in his room.” Your sweet girly voice had a way of calming Daryl, making him a bit more relaxed despite the current scenario and the shame he was feeling. But at the same time, just hearing you enunciate that one little word 'daddy' had him taking a deep breath to control his urges and not have another erection right there and then. You said that so innocently, because, well, it was in fact innocent since you referred to your actual father Hershel, but still, Daryl's twisted mind made it sound suggestive in his head.

“Take care'a me?” He pondered. Daryl wondered why your reaction was so calm considering what you had just witnessed. Maybe you didn't see much.

“You know, somebody's gotta change your bandage.” You smiled and pointed to his head that still had the bandage around it. “Actually, can you step to the side a bit? So I can...” You gestured to the dressing table behind him. He didn't say anything and just did as you said, moving to the side a little so you could approach the piece of furniture. In that moment, Daryl was the definition of what they call a standoffish.

“I was expecting to find you in your bed, resting. As you should, uncle Daryl.” Your voice carried a hint of playfulness along with a sincere worry. But the way you called him uncle for the second time that day gave him mixed sensations. He wasn't sure if he was aroused or weirded out by it. Or both.

You extended your hand, meaning to pull the drawer open to collect the items needed to change his bandage, which included the gauze, antiseptic wipes, medical tapes, sterile dressing and other kinds of medical stuff your dad had taught you how to handle, but you had to stop your hand midway when you noticed a white slimy thing dripping down the furnishing.

He followed your eyes, noticing how stared at the liquid. The farmer's sweet young daughter had just noticed the results of Daryl's arousal while it coated the dressing table. His mind started rushing with apprehension, you could tell your dad and everyone else how much of a perverted old man Daryl actually was, and he could be kicked out of the group, being left alone in the woods to fend for himself. It's not that he wasn't capable to make it on his own, but his family was important to him, he didn't wanna lose them over that type of thing that could change the way they looked at him forever.

“What's this?” You bended your knees a little, leaning forward and squinting your eyes to take a better look at the unknown substance. Now, you had completely forgotten the reason why you came into that room that was changing his bandage. Daryl lifted one of his eyebrows out of confusion. Did you really not know what that was? If that was the case, it kind of made sense.

Of course. Living on a farm far from the city, you had a close-knit relationship with your family in a way that they were pretty much all the people you would interact with. You had never had boyfriends, or kissed, or anything remotely romantic like that due to your dad's overprotectiveness, after all, you were his youngest daughter. All you knew about the existence of sexual stuff had been taught by him, when he mainly warned you about the terrible consequences of that type of action and that you had to stay innocent.

You didn't really know what he meant by all that, since he was very vague in his descriptions about sex. Hershel just used to say that there were certain areas on your body that you should never let a boy get near and you knew better than to disobey your father's orders, being aware that he always knew what was best for you. Not even your own hands had ever darted down your body to meet those spots more than once or twice before quickly pulling away. You wanted to remain innocent, whatever that meant.

But Daryl was the observant type, and he quickly caught up that you knew nothing about that type of thing. He knew you had always lived in that farm, away from the perverted hands of boys your age (or older like him) so connecting the dots wasn't tricky at all.

Oh, the things he could show you. That thought alone brought a somewhat creepy smirk to Daryl's face as he stared into the wall, contemplating the opportunity he had in hands to finally have his way with you. He knew he still had to be careful though.

“Daryl?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. You turned your head to look at him before turning your entire body to face him. Your gaze was curious.

“This?” He motioned with his chin towards the dripping substance on the piece of furniture, looking out of place. “Ya don'... know wha' it is?” He double checked, wanting to make sure you were actually unfamiliar erotic nature of what you saw him doing.

“Well, I saw where it came from.” You revealed, not sounding accusing at all, just simply stating a fact.

“...How long 've ya been watchin' me?” He asked with an almost audible gulp. Though he was considerably excited about teaching you all that new stuff, he was still unsure if he should or not. It'd been so long since his last sexual interaction with someone else that he could barely remember it. And doing it with the daughter of the man that gave him a roof to put over his head in times like these? That was risky.

“A while.” You stated. Now, Daryl could notice how you started staring at his crotch area with a renewed sense of interest. That meant you had definitely seen his dick despite his efforts to hide it when he first got caught just moments ago. He wondered if you knew what it was or its purpose.

You stepped even closer to him and he couldn't help but step back slightly. “I've never seen somebody pee like that. Are you... Sick?” You raise an eyebrow. “The bathroom's just in the next room, you know...” Your worried tone was awfully adorable to Daryl. And well, he was indeed sick, but not in the way you meant it. Nonetheless, the amusing way you mistook his semen for urine made him share a light chuckle.

“Nah, tha's... Tha's not piss.” He bluntly let out. You walked across your room and over to your bed, sitting on its edge. Daryl followed you until he was standing in front of you. He crossed his arms.

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side with a sincere curiosity displayed on your face. You had seen the way he rubbed that one thing of his that you weren't sure how it worked until that slimy liquid started oozing out of it, deeply stimulating your curiosity.

“Ya sure ya wanna know?” His tone sounded more dark and his voice turned hoarser, however, that didn't seem to faze you. You nodded frantically. “Aigh', i'll show ya.” Once again, a smirk creeped onto his face. Your eyes were all sparkly as you attentively listened to him. “Sometimes people touch themselves ta feel good, ya know?” You shrugged, not really sure of what he was talking about.

As he spoke, he took light and slow steps towards you, like a predator preparing to hunt its prey, until his knees was almost touching yours. “Ya ever touched yerself, darlin'?” Despite the raspiness in his voice, it was now rather calm, with a surge of some sweetness to it.

“Like how?” You asked.

“Like here...” He extended his hand with a gentle movement, his finger tracing a path from the valley between your breasts down to your bellybutton. The slightly ticklish sensation made you flinch a little. Then, his finger continued making its way down to your lower belly, stopping inches above your clothed pussy. “'N here...”

Your breath hissed, and you started remembering how your dad told you those parts were sacred and shouldn't be touched by anyone, no matter who. The uncertainty was obvious in your face as you discreetly pushed his hand away. “Uncle Daryl...”

“Ya can call me jus' Daryl, sweetheart. 'M yer friend, remember?” He tried his best to sound convincing.

“Yes, Daryl...” You corrected yourself with an awkward chuckle. “I... I think I shouldn't.” You avert your gaze from his.

“Why not? Dontcha wanna know wha' it's like?” He leaned in a little closer, resting his hands on your thighs. You made a motion to try to push him away again, but he insisted on his touch. “Don' be scared, doll. 'M not gunna hurt ya. Quite the opposite.” He smirked while practically whispering the last part, making sure to sound extra coaxing.

You weren't really sure what you were afraid of, exactly. You just knew that you wanted to make your father happy and proud of you, since he'd always been so caring towards you and your family. In the end, you just wanted daddy's approval.

“I'm... I'm not sure. I don't know, it doesn't feel right.” You confessed, your voice filled with worry. Daryl knew how to be intimidating when he wanted to.

“'S okay, doll.” He spoke the way one would speak to a puppy. And giving you no time to protest, he used one of his hands to tug at the hem of your white tank top and pulled it up in one go, revealing your bare tits to him. He bit his lips, noticing you weren't wearing a bra. As quick as he did so, you felt so ashamed of your sudden nudity that you lifted your arms up to try to cover yourself up from his hungry eyes. “D-Daryl...”

“Shhhh...” He shushed you against your ear, making shivers run down your spine. Although you were uncertain, the way he spoke to you made certain parts of your body warm up, an unusual sensation for you. “Ya got such pretty tits... Ya shouldn't hide 'em away from me.” As he said that, he gently grabbed one of your breasts, giving it the slightest squeeze not to startle you. You couldn't help but let out a small squeak at the unfamiliar sensation. Weirdly enough, it felt good in a way you had never felt before.

“Ya like tha'?” He whispered. “It's nice, but... Daddy wouldn't like that. I just wanna make daddy happy.” You just wanted to be a good girl. Perhaps, you could find a different way of doing that.

“Yeah?” He muttered practically to himself as he got an idea. “Well, I can be yer daddy for today. Like tha', ya could make yer daddy happy in a way. Yer jus' gotta lemme lead ya, aigh'?” He didn't feel guilty in the slightest for making you engage in one of his twisted fetishes while you were barely aware of it.

“H-huh?" You were uncertain about the reason behind his suggestion.

“Ya can pretend 'm yer daddy.” He continued playing her mind. You weren't really sure if you liked the idea to depict him as your old man, but you tried to convince yourself to play along.

“But... What will he think of me when he finds out?” You fidgeted with your fingers. Meanwhile his grip on your breast continued to intimidate you.

“He don' have ta know. C'mon, dontcha wanna make daddy happy?” He conveyed in a hush against your ear, his thumb now grazing your sensitive nipple, making you feel that one funny sensation again. You couldn't help but lean into his touch.

You closed your eyes, darting your tongue out to lick your lips. The nervousness in you due to the newness of it all made your lips dry. The way Daryl was making you feel was curious, and you just wanted more of it. He took your silence as a confirmation.

“Good girl.” He cooed before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, very gently sucking on it. The feeling made you arch your back instantly.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

You just wanted to be a good girl. And if following Daryl's lead was a way to do it, you were all in for it. Your senses awakened as a cascade of unfamiliar yet electrifying sensations coursed through you, a dance of pleasure that tingled on your skin. In that moment, a subtle warmth enveloped you, as if you had discovered a secret realm of bliss previously unknown.

You reached for his head, the feeling of your delicate fingernails scratching against his scalp and pulling him closer sent tingling sensations all over his body. Instinctively, you slightly opened your legs at the pleasure and that drew a smirk onto Daryl's face.

“Eager fer daddy, huh?” The way he referred to himself like that made a faint blush spread across your cheeks, although you couldn't wrap your head around the reason why. It felt so wrong but so right at the same time.

“I need ya to trust me, 'kay?” He said as he pulled your shorts down and then tossed them aside, revealing your white cotton panties. Once again, you felt to urge to hide, not knowing how to deal with someone else seeing you naked for the first time. But before your legs could involuntarily close, his big hands groped your thighs, keeping them spread apart. “'S okay, sunshine.” He practically manhandled you, gently but firmly pushing your body downward so you rested you back on the mattress.

The new position made you feel strangely vulnerable, but it wasn't exactly a bad feeling. Your doe eyes had a mix of unsureness and curiosity as they meet his. Sensing the mixed sensations within you, Daryl leaned in to place a small peck on your plush lips, aiming to make you more comfortable. The feeling of his rough lips against your soft ones so suddenly almost made you flinch, but they felt rather inviting. As he pulled back, a confident smirk could be seen displayed on his face.

The archer's rugged fingers traveled their way down your body once again until they found the soft fabric of your panties, making your breath hiss. He brushed his index and middle fingers against your clothed pussy lips. Just with that, the dampness was so obvious that a small wet spot could be seen on the cotton fabric right where your slit would be. He dragged his fingers across it until they reached your clit.

“This lil spot righ' here...” He kept his hand there. “...is magical." For now, he just added a small pressure, testing the waters and watching close to your reaction, but that was enough to draw a whimper from you, the unknown sensation making you grasp his forearm. It indeed felt magical. You bit your lips and though you couldn't see it, Daryl shared a satisfied smile at the way he was able to get you all hot and bothered with just a simple touch.

Your legs squirmed a bit and he took that as a good sign, so he continued. Now, he started slowly rubbing your clit in circular motions over the fabric of your panties. Your back arched again, and you accidentally let out a dangerously loud moan.

“Nuh-uh.” He brought his other index finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet. “Ya gotta be quiet, ya hear me?” His tone was mostly reprimanding, which strangely excited you. You nodded, enjoying the authority he guided you with through those new sensations. You had touched yourself there before, but never like that. The sensation always felt somewhat wrong, but with Daryl, it was totally different.

You were still kind of upset at yourself for disobeying your dad, but the way Daryl worked his fingers so skillfully had you seeing stars. You never thought you'd be handing out your innocence for some old redneck you met just a while ago, but there you were, completely given to him.

In the beginning, Daryl used to always kind of avoid you, despite your attempts of trying to get to know at least a little bit about the mysterious archer. He knew that deep down, those desires towards you were always there, since the very first time he saw you. At first, he tried to brush them off, but now, all he wanted was to be the one to feel your tight virgin cunt for the first time.

In a swift motion, his big hands tugged at the hem of your underwear. “Up.” He ordered, gesturing for you to lift your hips so he could pull them down. You didn't argue at all and promptly did as he said, reveling in the control he had over you. It was like he dominated your weak mind. “Good girl.” He cooed once again. Oh, if only he knew what that did to your little inexperienced pussy.

After tossing the piece of fabric aside, he reached for you knees, gently spreading them apart. The sight of your glistening bare cunt had his mind rushing through all the things he could do to it. He wondered if he would be able to hold himself back and be gentle or if he would end up losing control. After all, he hadn't done anything like that in such a long time that his whole body was aching for it. He stared at it in an almost scary way, you'd never seen his eyes so hungry.

If his cock hadn't awaken until that moment, now it was hard as a fucking rock. He had to really fight the urges to pull it out his pants and dick you down right there and then, but he knew he had to take it easy on you at least for now and get you nice and ready for him, even though you were already visibly dripping wet.

“Is this all fer me?” His tone was almost mocking. You weren't sure what he meant by that, not fully understanding the concept of natural lubrication, but you just nodded with your eyes closed. Something about being in that position felt so right, so freeing that it had you wondering why you never did that before, and why you were so afraid of trying it in the first place.

Daryl's hands sensually traced their way down your body, exploring your every contour until they reached the back of your thighs, pushing them back until your wet cunt was all over his face. He tried his best to control himself, but his own arousal was practically taking over his mind, so he buried his face on it like a starving man. As soon as his wet tongue made contact with your sensitive little clit and he lapped at your abundant juices, you immediately gasped, gaining a look of disapproval from Daryl.

“I warned ya.” That was all he mumbled before taking your panties he had just took off you and sticking them into your mouth almost aggressively. You could taste yourself on the white fabric, and although it felt strange, it turned you on even more. Now, your little sounds were muffled by the piece of clothing as he resumed eating you out, flicking his tongue on hour clit and burying it between your folds. You never thought a feeling like that could actually exist as you experienced that overwhelming rush of pleasure, a novel sensation coursing through you sending shivers down your spine as a delightful warmth enveloped your entire being. You tried your best to hold back your sounds since your dad was home and could hear you if you slipped, but Daryl's skilled tongue and lips made it an extremely difficult task, even with your panties stuck in your mouth.

He continued working your clit with his mouth, and maybe a little sooner than it should, a tingling sensation forming in your lower belly caught your attention. Daryl noticed the obvious shift in your demeanor and took the panties out of your mouth so you could speak. “D-daddy...” You experimented the honorific he had previously suggested. “I-I feel funny.” You whimpered, squirming a bit harder than before as it started feeling as if you were gonna burst at any moment. Daryl smirked against your skin and gave your pussy a last peck before pulling away, making you whine in disapproval. It had only been seconds but you immediately missed the sensation. You craved it.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” He said. Not yet what, you wondered. But you still wanted to be good for him, so you nodded as the good girl you were. You couldn't think of anything you wouldn't do for him in that moment, considering how desperate you were to feel that pleasure again.

Your curious eyes followed his hands as they reached to unbuckled his own belt, setting it aside. He undid his pants and pulled them down just enough to reveal his boxer briefs to you. There. There was the place where you saw that sticky white thing shooting out from. Now, the excitement in you was unbearable as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his movements closely. Your eyes visibly lighted up and that didn't go unnoticed by Daryl.

“Yer gunna love this, lil' girl.” He bit his lips. Something was very obviously bulging in his boxers, which you found odd since it didn't seem to look so obvious when it was in his pants even though now it looked so big. Either way, you were completely drawn to it. You glued your eyes to his crotch while he pulled his underwear down.

You had heard about it, but you had never actually seen one of those before. In the aftermath of the apocalypse, his pubic hair had grown wild and untamed, a reflection of the makeshift survival and the absence of the once routine grooming practices. Not that he used to care a lot about that kind of thing before the outbreak. In a way, you thought it looked charming, suiting his rugged looks and personality.

You could feel your mouth starting to water at the sight of his cock standing tall and proud in front of you. Since the archer had touched his mouth to your cunt, you wondered if you could do the same to him in that same area on his body. As if he could smell your thoughts, he brought a hand to your head, gently pulling you closer to his crotch while he held it by the base.

“Ya wanna have a taste?” He slyly suggested and chuckled at your frantic nodding. Leaning closer to it, you felt the musky and raw scent that emanated from it, which made you even more drawn to the possibilities that ran through your mind. But at the same time, you didn't know what to do or how to handle it.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, he collected some saliva from it and rubbed the wetness on the tip of his cock to lubricate it. “Gimme yer hand.” He reached out his hand, and instantly you complied, allowing him to direct it towards his cock. He enveloped your hand around it, keeping his atop yours, slowly starting to move it up and down. It felt warm and hard against your soft fingers, and the way he threw his head back and quietly groaned made your stomach churn with butterflies. “Fuck baby, tha' feels good.” He had to whisper due to the dangerous presence of your dad in the house threatening to put your little playtime to an end.

You smiled proudly at yourself. You liked the way he sounded and you wished to draw more of those grunts from his lips. And Daryl, being just as eager as you, removed your hand from his length, holding it by the base. His other hand found its way to the back of your head, his touch almost feeling impatient as he pulled you closer to his cock. “Open yer mouth.” He didn't have to tell you twice. Therefore, he guided his swollen tip to your awaiting tongue, smearing his salty pre-cum all over it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to hold back any compromising sounds.

Your lips instinctively closed around his tip, trying to mimic the way he sucked on your clit, aiming to make him feel as good as he previously did to you. The act not only gave him pleasure, but it also brought you a deep sense of satisfaction, making you hum against his sensitive skin. The vibrations from your vocal chords sent a chill through his body and he couldn't hold back this time, the warm sensation of your mouth being so tempting and promising that he pushed his hips forward a bit too much, causing it to hit the back of your throat and you to gag on it.

He immediately retracted his body, removing his cock from the velvety confines of your mouth. Your eyes got a little watery but you smiled either way. “Sorry, princess.” He said with a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

“It's fine, I liked it.” You confess, looking up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stood in front of you. Your innocent expression contrasting with the dirty nature of your encounter made him impossibly hornier, and he didn't feel like waiting any longer. “Fuck” He almost whined. Eagerness to feel you wrapping around him filled his body, so he grabbed you by the arms, not too rough so he wouldn't hurt you, and put on your feet against the pink wall of your room.

He brought a hand to your head, pressing it against the wall. You gasped a little at his roughness but soon you felt him brushing the tip of his cock on your slicky slit and clit. “'S gunna feel good, I promise.” He mumbled against your ear, making your body hair stand on end. The sensation had you biting your lips to try and not make any sounds, but your efforts were proven useless as you felt the pressure of his tip carefully going in your cunt, causing a burning sensation and you accidentally let out a loud cry.

Daryl's hand went immediately to your mouth, forcefully pressing his palm against your lips to muffle your sounds, your dad shouldn't hear Daryl using his sweet daughter in his own home after all. “Shhh, shhh.” He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head for a moment. You wrapped around him so tight even though he only had his tip in yet that he couldn't restrain himself from pushing his hips forward a little more, intensifying the burning sensation while he stretched your virgin cunt out.

“'S okay, ya can take it.” In that moment, you were confused at why he was making you feel so good just a moment ago, and now he's ripping your little pussy apart. But even though it hurt, it was somewhat pleasant to feel so full in such a new way, so you stuck your ass towards him, inviting him in. While still keeping his hand pressed on your mouth, he brought his other one to your hips, gripping them a little too tight.

Without warnings, he buried his entire length in you in one swift motion, filling you up to the brim and worsening the burning to a whole new level. The only thing that kept you from letting out a scream at the sudden invasion was his hand muffling your pathetic sounds and the fact that you'd be in deep trouble if your dad found out about that, but even so, Daryl couldn't help but quietly grunt at the intense sensation. He didn't know he missed fucking a warm cunt so badly until he was completely inhumed inside you. “Good girl. Yer being so good fer daddy.” He praised you. His words had an immediate effect on you, making your pussy even wetter, if that was even possible.

You didn't even care if it hurt or not anymore, so you just stood there, caught in the paradox of sensation — a mix of pain and pleasure etched across your face. The twinge felt like a sweet ache, and yet, an irresistible allure pulled her deeper into the experience, as if the discomfort held a hidden charm that she couldn't resist exploring.

Despite the pain, you found herself oddly drawn to the sensation, craving more as if the discomfort carried an inexplicable appeal that kept you coming back for another taste. So you slightly wiggled your ass against Daryl's body, moving his cock a little inside you. The feeling of being stretched out had you desperate for more.

Daryl's warm breath hit your ear as he let out a light-hearted laugh at your reaction, sending delicious goosebumps all over your body. His hips started going back and forth to meet yours in a sensual dance. He tried to be gentle at first, but your virgin cunt was just so wet and warm that he couldn't help it but succumb to his primal desires. “Jus' like tha', princess. Take this fat cock.” He whispered loud enough so only you could hear, making you weak in the knees.

His calloused hand let go of your hips to find your clit, starting to rub it with just the right pressure to make you squirm under his touch. The mixed sensations of intense pleasure and pain confusing your brain, making you melt like putty in his hands. Overwhelming waves of pleasure surged through you, leaving your head blissfully empty as if every thought had been swept away by the sheer intensity of the sensation, which was exactly what Daryl wanted, to turn you into a brainless little fucktoy for him.

If a few months ago somebody told you that you'd be letting some perverted older man take advantage of you in your own room, you would've laughed right in their face. Giving your innocence away to anybody used to feel like such a distant reality, and now there you were, pressed against the wall by Daryl's sweaty body while he mercilessly pounded your no longer virgin cunt, making you experience the most pleasurable pain you could ever feel.

As he continued bucking his hips like a desperate animal, you drooled against his hand, your brain now reduced to putty due to the overpowering sensation that dominated your every sense. “Nngh...” Your muffled moans stirred an even deeper desire within Daryl, turning him as primal as one could be. Your body language made it obvious that you were close to your orgasm, and this time, he didn't plan to deny you of it.

But you had never experienced something like that. You didn't know pleasure could get so extreme that could made you burst, so as the sensation built and grew stronger, it also made you unsure about where it was taking you, and you tried to fight the feeling. Daryl's skilled fingers working your clit only threw you even closer to the edge and you felt like your legs could fail at any moment.

Noticing the shift in your demeanor, he muttered against your ear. “Jus' let it go, baby. Trust me, don' hold it.” His tone was strangely sweet considering what you were both up to, but his encouraging words relaxed you a little, and as he intensified the rubbing on your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold it in not even if you wanted to, whatever it was.

Then, it hit you. An entirely unfamiliar and intense sensation washed over you, catching you off guard. It felt like uncharted emotional and physical territory, leaving you completely stunned, wide-eyed, and grappling with the unexpected intensity of the experience, something that almost made you mad at your dad from convincing you of staying away from it for so long.

Daryl had to intensify the pressure of his hand against your lips, but even so, he wasn't able to muffle your cries completely as your body convulsed and you were sure you lost consciousness for a few seconds. “Good girl, cum for me.” You didn't know what that word meant, but considering the situation, you understood that it probably had something to do with the new type of pleasure you just experienced.

As the orgasmic sensation slowly faded away, it was replaced with an even more overwhelming feeling of overstimulation. You squirmed even harder and you swore you could cry if he continued using your cunt like that, not giving you any breaks to catch your breath. You'd been turned into a whimpering and drooling mess, a total slut for his cock. You wanted him to have his way with you and you knew that if he wanted to, you'd let him fuck you all day without arguing.

The intense clenching of your tight pussy around his length initiated his own orgasm, and now it was his turn to experience the compelling feeling of being right on the edge of pleasure. “Fuck, turn 'round." He desperately voiced, but he didn't even waited for you before decisively grasping your shoulders, swiftly turning you to face him. As he did so, he removed his cock from inside you and stroked it hard and fast for a few seconds with just enough pressure to make himself burst.

Your mesmerized eyes watched as the pleasure took over his body. And now, it all made sense as he started shooting his load aiming right on your bare pussy, just as he was doing earlier today when you first caught him in your room. The warm sticky substance coated your cunt and it was so much that it felt like it would never end, leaving you astonished. You couldn't help but smile at the sight before you.

You two stared into each other's eyes while desperately trying to catch your breaths, sharing a small chuckle and satisfied smiles. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead and now, you knew who to come up to when you feel that funny feeling in your lower belly again. You knew Daryl had what it took to take care of your needs.

Without saying anything else, he pulled his briefs and pants back up again, adjusting his clothes. Then, he reached for his pocket, pulling out those panties he had stolen earlier and putting them on you again, leaving his load smeary and sticking to your skin. “Leave it there.” He hoarsely voiced, ordering you to walk around with his cum inside your clothes while no one else knew of it except the both of you.

“And these...” He walked over to your bed and bended his knees a little so he could reach for the white cotton panties he had tossed aside right before railing you and put them in his pocket.

“...'M gunna keep these fer later.”

a/n: omg guys the first part of sweet scent got over 1.1k notes and that's like??? insane??? tysm for all ur support, that's crazy. it was so much fun to write both parts and i'm so thankful if you read it this far!! i hope y'all have a great and happy holidays xx

taglist: @imagininghim , @murdadixon , @epilepsywarrior8787 , @darklydixon

[drdemonprince]

Banger passage from this Captain Awkward column:

Your question came in a shape that anyone who has spent more than an hour on this website will recognize. Let’s break it down to its most basic form: “Dear Captain Awkward, a person is repeatedly crossing my boundaries in a way that makes me feel [angry][annoyed][overwhelmed][triggered by reminders of past events][bored][avoidant][checked out][exasperated][other feelings that add up to ‘bad’]. How do I convince them to stop doing the stuff that makes me feel bad without making them feel bad?” This framing sets the problem up as a persuasion problem. Your boundaries only get to matter after you successfully convince the other people in the conflict that they do, and in the meantime they get to keep doing all the stuff that makes you feel bad until you a) persuade them to stop b) without making them feel even a little bit bad. Two immediate, glaring problems with this approach: 1) You can’t control how other people will react or how they will feel. 2) It puts all the power and agency in the hands of the person you’re trying to persuade. What happens if they remain unpersuaded, as Jane clearly has? When you were small, you were coerced into being an emotional dumping ground for adults who did not care about your consent. It wasn’t happening because you weren’t saying “uh, that seems like a grown-up problem, I’m gonna go ride bikes now” loudly or clearly or politely enough, it was about knowing that even if you did, at best they wouldn’t notice and at worst they might physically prevent you from leaving, punish you for trying, keep right on doing the thing, and scapegoat you for making them feel bad about any of it. “Fawn” and “freeze” start as trauma responses. When you’re dependent on someone who demands to be tiptoed around and fawned over, they become survival skills. Scratch a recovering people-pleaser who has a hard time saying no as an adult and chances are you’ll uncover a history of exposure to people who were so terrible at taking no for an answer *that it rewired their entire brain.* Once you’re away from a coercive environment, the habits and skills that helped you survive it stop working. People who have no interest in coercing you don’t want you to tiptoe around them, put your feelings last, preemptively manage their moods, or do anything you don’t freely and enthusiastically want to do. They don’t want you to try to read their minds or treat them like they are the worst person you’ve ever met. They don’t want to be the unwitting antagonists in dramas that take place only inside your head. The only people who would ever demand that from you or punish you for not prioritizing them above yourself are people you need to avoid like the plague.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Emotional Range Of A Teaspoon | Pierre Gasly

Summary: What right does he have to feel angry at the sight of Y/N and Charles? The answer is none. After all, she's only his best friend. Isn't she?

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Fluff. Jealousy. One suggestive comment

No faceclaim but British reader. 2024 timeline

F1 Masterlist

Requested: Yes (sorry it's a little late)

This one actually comes with a tiny text paragraph mid-way through

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Replies to @ PierreGASLY

Charles_Leclerc c’mon mate, it’s only been two days 

→ PierreGASLY a whole lifetime 

→ ItsYN i can’t even remember what you look like 

→ Charles_Leclerc and the people say that i am the dramatic one 

AlpineF1Team think you can channel that pain into some points this weekend?

→ PierreGASLY why aren’t you taking my pain seriously 

→ AlpineF1Team do you want us to schedule you an appointment with the counsellor?

→ ItsYN i don’t think that counsellor gets paid enough to listen to him

User1 ouch, talk about friendzoned 

→ User2 no, no, they’re in the denial stage of their friends to lovers arc

Replies to @ ItsYN

PierreGASLY i can still hear your voice

→ PierreGASLY although i’m glad you’re not making me suffer through the lost boys again

→ ItsYN okay first off, you love that movie. and second, because of that, i’m telling everyone you cried watching cars 3

→ PierreGASLY traitor!

→ LiamLawson30 as any man would!

Charles_Leclerc don’t worry y/n, i’ll have movie night with you 

→ ItsYN are you going to make me watch harry potter again?

→ Charles_Leclerc yes..?

→ ItsYN @ PierreGASLY come back please 

Replies to @ Charles_Leclerc

User3 not charles tweeting this the day after the canadian gp. y/n missed the canadian gp and you can tell poor charles had to hear all about it 

ItsYN we all know i would be the soldier and pierre would be the doting housewife crying on the platform 

→ PierreGASLY and i would look radiant doing so

Max33Verstappen he wouldn’t shut up about her during the driver’s parade. i tried to walk off and he followed me!

→ PierreGASLY i was in the middle of a sentence!

→ danielricciardo mate you know it’s bad when yapstappen needs you to stop talking

ItsYN stop talking about me. you're making it sound like we're friends

→ Charles_Leclerc excuse me but you know you want to be my bestie

→ PierreGASLY you can’t have her. she’s mine. i saw her first. shotgun or whatever you monagasques say for dibs 

→ GeorgeRussell63 actually i saw her first; her brother was my teammate when we were kids so 

→ PierreGASLY and just for that, i’m unfollowing you 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Replies to @ CHICKEN!!

User4 whoever took this photo needs to go straight to jail. not y’all making it seem like charles and y/n are a sneaky item

User5 i knew she was shady, talking about how she couldn't make it only to end up in the winning driver’s garage 

PierreGASLY oh 

→ User6 wait no, pierre, come back. look at other tweets about this please

User7 stop being a shit stirrer. he’s literally got his other arm wrapped around alex ‘cause he was guiding the two of them through a ton of fans but that’s conveniently been cropped out 

Replies to @ BRAKKEEE

User8 i can’t believe people were trying to convince us ynarles was real when it’s clearly ynex

User9 love that charles was literally only there to keep them safe from fans and after that they were like ‘you’re done babe. now we run off into the sunset’ 

User10 watching him chase after them was so funny tho because he was literally yelling “let me play too” 

Replies to @ ItsYN

User11 oh no, we’re so sorry. we were just so happy to see you 

→ User12 yeah and pierre would’ve been happy to see her as well if you hadn’t blasted her all over the internet 

→ User13 pierre didn't exactly look all that happy though. he wouldn’t stop glaring at poor charles  

→ User12 maybe because you guys made it seem like his best friend lied to him to be with charles

Thumb aimlessly swiping at the screen of his phone, Pierre scanned the tweets as they passed, making note of a cute waffle shop in Monaco that he knew Y/N would love. Nothing of note appeared to have been posted as most of the Grid were waiting to hear where Sainz had signed. Hand halting, Pierre’s eyes flickered across the screen once. Twice. And then a third time just to be sure. His last message to Y/N had gone unanswered and now there was a picture of her on Twitter, claiming to be from today. With Charles’ arm around her. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, and a derisive scoff filled his driver’s room. What happened to being unable to book the time off work, he thought bitterly to himself. Instead she was in the Paddock with a red-clad arm wrapped around her. Before he could restrain himself, he had clicked on the ‘reply’ button. A knock at the door pulled him from his downward spiral, preventing him from looking further into the comments gushing about how cute his best friend and closest F1 friend looked as a couple. 

“Pierre, time to warm up.”

“D’accord.”

He locked his phone before dumping it onto the massage table, storming out of his driver’s room, unaware that if he had scrolled down another two posts, he would’ve seen a picture of Y/N with Alexandra and a tweet from the woman herself. 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, estebanocon and others

ItsYN an amazing weekend in barcelona watching my best friend do his thing and achieve some well-deserved points. a huge thank you to charles and alex for helping me sneak into the paddock last-minute tagged: pierregasly, charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux 

553 comments

alpinef1team our favourite things rolled into one post 

→ ItsYN mine too! 

→ User1 sis, get off the floor 

estebanocon should i be offended that you wearing my cap didn’t make the post 

→ ItsYN shh i can’t have my people thinking i have friends other than pear 

danielricciardo PIERRE GASSLLLYYYYY

→ ItsYN go thirst over him on his posts. my insta is a 310 free zone

→ danielricciardo just admit that you’re jealous of our love and move on

→ ItsYN was he publicly crying over missing YOU? i don’t think so 

→ danielricciardo that’s because i’m a better friend than you and i’ve been here the whole time

→ ItsYN blocked 

alexandrasaintmleux thank you for trusting me with the surprise! 

→ ItsYn thank you for being so wonderful and helping 🩷 (and stopping charles from throttling me)

→ charles_leclerc it’s because you wouldn’t stop saying thank you and asking me if i was “sure that it’s no bother” to help you 

→ It’sYN sorry for being considerate! 

User2 not to be that person but has anyone else noticed that pierre hasn’t commented?

→ User3 i'm getting the feeling that, despite all his online complaining, he wasn’t overly excited to see his best friend this weekend? 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

User4 not the f1wags posting her, they know the truth

→ User5 what truth. it doesn’t look they’re even friends anymore

User7 it’s the way she looks like she’s trying to explain/talk to him and he’s just yelling at her 

→ User8 i used to root for them to get together but now that he’s yelled at her :/

User9 y/n is stronger than me because if a man pointed his finger like that at me, i’d savagely bite it off 

User10 uh, who does he think he is talking to y/n l/n that way

User11 i bet it’s because he thought y/n was there for charles and got jealous 

→ User12 i’ve connected the dots

→ User13 you ain’t connected shit

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

User14 idk which one i want to be more

→ User15 that’s because you want to be their third instead 

User16 i’m thirsty. anyone else thirsty

LandoNorris oh god my eyes

→ danielricciardo this is why you should stop looking at x rated things on the internet 

→ User17 what happened to your pr training?

→ Charles_Leclerc what happened to pierre’s?

User18 if only he could transfer this kind of passion onto the track 

User19 uh, the clarity of the third one?? did admin take this and then leak it online? 

→ AlpineF1Team i'm afriad that we’re finding out along with you guys but we’re not gonna pretend like we weren’t rooting for this 

ItsYN why am i trending on twitter?

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe and others

ItsYN my little pain au chocolat 💕

845 comments

pierregasly we talked about you calling me pastries 

→ ItsYn yes, we did. and i didn’t take into account anything you said

→ pierregasly you are very lucky you're cute

→ ItsYN it's gotten me far in life

User1 talk about a hard launch

→ User2 they weren’t really given the choice considering they were caught snogging all over barcelona last weekend

alpinef1team pierre repping the alpine colours 

→ ItsYN release your chokehold on my man

→ alpinef1team no, you release your chokehold on our man 

→ ItsYN what happened to being supportive of this?

→ alpinef1team that was before all he did was yap about you!

lilymhe babe, this isn’t you. get up and come back to me 

→ ItsYN i’m sorry but i don’t think i can come back from this 

→ lilymhe what about us, what about everything we’ve been through

→ ItsYN you know i never wanted to hurt you

→ alex_albon @ pierregasly guess i’ll be seeing you at the next karaoke marathon 

→ pierregasly only if you sing breaking free with me

→ ItsYN this is why i love you

landonorris let’s take a moment for our fallen soldier… we lost an honourable brit to a french man

→ pierregasly it’s not my fault that i have charm and you don’t 

→ danielricciardo i didn’t realise charm meant having a tantrum when she asks your friend for help to surprise you 

→ pierregasly we agreed not to speak of that! 

→ ItsYN i don’t think you’re living this one down, macaron

charles_leclerc can you tell him to put his clothes back on, please

→ ItsYN i tried but he seems incapable of keeping them on around me

→ pierregasly charles is just jealous of my amazing physique 

→ charles_leclerc best you not talk about jealousy 

User4 @ ItsYN i love that they’ve not had a chance to pr train you yet

→ ItsYN never! 

User5 and they called me crazy when i said friends to lovers! 

→ ItsYN tbf hun, so did we. it took us a minute

→ User6 so pierre is slow on and off the track 

→ pierregasly hey! 

pierregasly just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and others

pierregasly from movie nights to drunken karaoke, i would go on any adventure with you 

1,454 comments

ItsYN my best friend and my love 

→ alexandrasaintmleux i thought i was your best friend 

→ ItsYN i’m not allowed to post shirtless pics of you online though

→ charles_leclerc no you are not! 

→ User7 i hope pr never got ahold of her

→ alpinef1team she has an appointment with them on thursday

yukitsunoda0511 is this what they call simping?

→ pierregasly no

→ ItsYN yes

maxverstappen1 does this mean you’ll stop talking about her during driver’s parades?

→ pierregasly no 

→ yukitsunoda0511 he’ll just stop talking about whether she’s interested in any of us 

→ ItsYN he did that?

→ pierregasly no!

→ maxverstappen1 yes, the latest victim was logan

→ charles_leclerc actually i was the latest victim, and i will remain the most famous. my jealousy era is forever captured on the internet 

→ logansargeant @ pierregasly is that why you kept asking me what i thought about her?

landonorris you guys are kinda cute when you’re not yelling at her 

→ ItsYN please stop saying this. i'm the one who has to listen to him apologise over and over for the millionth time

→ pierregasly because i feel bad! 

→ ItsYN omg i know! 

danielricciardo mate, we get it. she’s your girl now but you can let go of her for two seconds. she’s not going to disappear

→ pierregasly it’s called a healthy attachment

→ ItsYN he says whilst cuddled into my neck and following me to the bathroom

lilymhe she’s so hot, drop me her @ please

→ pierregasly back off

→ ItsYN i’m right here bby girl. let me take out on a date 

→ charles_leclerc careful lily or he might start yelling at you next 

alpinef1team we’ve been asked by an anonymous source that you all refrain from discussing previous events. reparations have been made and it’s been advised that such an event remain in the past 

→ danielricciardo lol he ran to mom

→ landonorris anonymous source, my ass. just tag him

→ georgerussell63 this is so lame

→ alex_albon mate, this is more obvious than pierre’s jealousy 

→ charles_leclerc even i cannot support him through this 

→ ItsYN i love you, my little croissant, but i cannot pretend that this is normal

→ pierregasly ultimate betrayal

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Sorry if this wasn’t angst enough. Humour and fluff are more my forte.

As always, F1 requests open for the current grid and retired drivers.

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury

(A huge thank you to both of you for wanting to be added to all f1 posts. It means a lot)

[elikajinnie]

hello!! may i request a drabble or a spin off from forbidden taste!heeseung with his reaction or thoughts after taking the antidote for amortentia? and also how he’s desperate to find y/n and why she’s avoiding him for days? 🤭 thank you!! i luv a desperate man 😩

a/n: you may :3 i LOVED seeing this in my inbox when i woke up! And we do all indeed love a desperate man ;)

Warnings: ehm, a desperate man basically?

The fic in question --> click here

--

Heeseung was angry—no, he was livid. The moment the effects of the Amortentia wore off, his mind cleared like a storm breaking apart, and the first thing he thought of was you. Where were you? Why weren’t you there? He had searched and searched, every corridor and corner he could think of, but you were nowhere to be found.

It didn’t help that Yoonhee had been trailing after him, clinging to his arm, tears streaming down her face as she apologized profusely. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far! It was stupid—I know it was stupid, Heeseung, I’m so sorry!”

But Heeseung knew better. He could see right through her feigned remorse. The look in her eyes told him she wasn’t sorry for what she did—she was sorry she got caught. His patience, already paper-thin, finally snapped. He shoved her off and hissed, “Stay away from me,” before marching straight to a professor and reporting her. He didn’t wait to see the consequences unfold; he couldn’t care less. There were far more important things to deal with.

Like finding you.

You, who had been conspicuously absent through it all. You, who he hadn’t seen since after the Amortentia’s haze vanished. A knot of worry had formed in his chest, twisting tighter with every second that passed without an answer. He stormed into the courtyard, seeking out your housemates with frantic determination.

“Where is she?” he demanded, his voice sharp enough to startle a group of first-years nearby. “Where is she?!”

One of your friends finally stepped forward, hesitant but honest. “She’s... she’s been in bed all day. Said she wasn’t feeling well.”

The words hit him like a Bludger to the chest. Guilt and heartbreak washed over him in waves, drowning out the last remnants of anger. You had been suffering alone, likely because of him—because of what had happened, because of everything Yoonhee had done.

He tried everything—everything—to get through to you. He sent letters, each one carefully written, pouring his heart onto the parchment. He sent messages through your housemates, through your friends, hoping they might convince you to talk to him. Every time he saw a friend of yours, he’d stop them, desperate for any sliver of news.

“How is she? Did she eat today?” he’d ask, his voice laced with worry. “Did she sleep? Is she feeling any better?”

It was always the small things—tiny gestures—to show he cared. That he was thinking about you. That he was sorry. He wanted you to know that it had all been the Amortentia, that none of it had been real. None of it had been his choice. And above all, he wanted you to know that he never, ever meant to hurt you.

But no matter how hard he tried, you remained locked away. Your absence stretched between you like an invisible wall, keeping him out. You weren’t just avoiding him—you were avoiding everyone. And it hurt.

It hurt because he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t talk to you. He couldn’t hold you in his arms and kiss away the pain, couldn’t wipe the tears from your cheeks or make all your worries disappear. He wanted to tell you, face-to-face, how much you meant to him, how much he hated himself for letting this happen. But he couldn’t do any of that—not while you stayed hidden away in your common room, unreachable.

So, he waited. He stayed close, always looking for a chance, a moment, a sign. But until then, he would keep trying, keep hoping, because losing you was something he couldn’t bear.

And he did keep trying. Every day, he checked the places you’d usually be—the library where you’d bury yourself in books, the quiet corner of the courtyard where you’d sit when you needed to think, even the kitchens, where you’d sometimes sneak a late-night snack.

But you weren’t there. You weren’t anywhere.

The less he saw of you, the less he heard of you, the more desperate he grew. His patience—what little he had left—was wearing thin. He couldn’t focus in class, couldn’t eat properly, couldn’t sleep without his thoughts drifting back to you. He wanted—no, needed—to see you. To hear your voice, to know that you were okay, that you didn’t hate him. The thought of you hating him gnawed at his heart like a cruel curse.

He tried to remind himself to give you time, to respect the space you clearly needed. But it was hard. Too hard. Every day that passed felt like another piece of you slipping further away, and he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

When another one of your housemates brushed him off with a mumbled “I don’t know,” Heeseung snapped. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but the frustration and worry boiled over. “How can you not know? You live with her! Hasn’t anyone even seen her?”

The girl flinched but reluctantly admitted, “She’s been in the dorm. She just... doesn’t come out.”

Those words were both a relief and a torment. You were there, within reach, but still so far away from him. The knowledge burned in his chest, twisting into something unbearable. You were so close—just a few walls separating you from him—but it might as well have been an ocean. And he was drowning in it.

Heeseung's desperation grew with every passing moment. He found himself pacing the corridors near your common room, running his hands through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. He couldn’t stand this helplessness, couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone, hurting because of him. The guilt was suffocating, pressing down on him like the weight of the castle itself.

He tried to write another letter, his trembling hands scrawling messy, frantic words onto the parchment.

Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I know you don’t want to see me, but please, just let me explain. Please let me make this right.

He crumpled it and started again, feeling like no words could possibly convey the storm in his chest. How could he put into words how much he hated himself for what happened? How could he tell you that the worst part of it all wasn’t Yoonhee’s betrayal or the humiliation of being under the potion’s effects—it was losing you?

He sent the letter anyway, knowing it was just one of many you’d likely left unopened.

The next day, he cornered one of your closest friends in the hallway. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please tell her I’m sorry. Tell her... tell her I’ll wait as long as it takes. I just need her to know.”

The friend hesitated, giving him a pitying look before nodding. But he didn’t trust that it would reach you. Heeseung was running out of patience, running out of hope. Every time he thought about the tears you must have shed, the pain you must have felt, it killed him a little more.

Late one night, he found himself back outside your common room again, leaning against the cold stone wall, staring blankly at the entrance. He didn’t even know what he was doing there. Maybe he hoped you’d come out? Maybe he thought you’d sense him there, that you’d realize he wasn’t going anywhere until you let him in.

His fists clenched at his sides, and before he could stop himself, he let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against the wall, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes... I’ll wait for you.”

His voice cracked on the last words, but he meant it. Even if it hurt. Even if it felt like he was being torn apart. You were worth it. You were everything.

Eventually, the Christmas Ball arrived, but Heeseung didn’t want to go. The last thing he wanted was to pretend to enjoy himself, but his friends had other plans. They nagged him, teased him, and pushed him to "just have some fun for once." After a mountain of peer pressure, he reluctantly gave in, throwing on his suit and styling his hair without much care.

He still didn’t expect much. The Ball wasn’t going to fix anything—it was just a night to endure. He let his friends drag him along, had a drink or two, and resigned himself to the chatter around him. None of it mattered.

Until he saw you.

Everything else disappeared the moment his eyes found you across the room. You stood at the edge of the Grand Hall, illuminated by the soft glow of the enchanted snowflakes falling from the ceiling. Your dress shimmered, and you looked breathtaking. Stunning. Like a vision he didn’t deserve to see.

And then he realized—you were staring back at him.

His heart stopped. You weren’t avoiding him this time. You weren’t looking away. Your gaze was locked on his, full of something he couldn’t quite place—uncertainty, maybe? He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were here, and you were looking at him.

Before he could even process what he was doing, his feet started moving. His drink was left abandoned on a nearby table as he strode across the hall, weaving through the crowd until he was right in front of you.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

He had waited for you.

But now, he was done waiting.

For weeks, Heeseung had been nothing but patient, forcing himself to hold back when every fiber of his being screamed to see you, to talk to you, to fix things. He’d stayed away when he knew you needed space. He sent letters, messages, and even flowers, trying to show you he cared without pushing too hard.

And still, he never got a response.

But Heeseung told himself he could endure it, because you were worth it. He could be patient, be understanding, because he loved you. He was good for you, wasn’t he? He cared for you in ways no one else could. No one else would wait this long, worry this much, or fight this hard.

And yet, when he saw you standing there, in your pretty dress, something inside him snapped. He had been so good. He had done everything right. He had given you all the space you asked for, all the time you needed. But seeing you now, after everything, reminded him just how much he’d missed you. How much he’d longed for you. How much it hurt to be apart.

He wasn’t going to let you slip through his fingers again. Not when he knew how good the two of you were together.

He didn’t ask for permission when he reached for your hand, didn’t even hesitate—he simply took it, his fingers curling around yours like they belonged there. Because they did. He believed that with every beat of his heart.

As he pulled you toward the corridor, he felt his resolve solidify. He had been patient, more patient than he thought he was capable of, but patience had its limits. He had waited for you to come to him, but you hadn’t. And now that he had you in front of him, he wasn’t going to let you go.

And when you didn’t fight him as he led you into the quiet hallway, it gave him hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, you wanted this too.

a/n: i love writing his pov :) also im not sure when you put ur perm taglist... so im not adding it here xD already posted so much.

[harryspet]

well kept [4] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON/NONCON, corporal punishment, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: longest chapter yayyyy :):)

word count: 4.9k

In which Rafe's control pushes you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

well kept masterlist

Rafe Cameron could handle his liquor, you learned that quickly. After accompanying him to a few dinner parties and watching him down several shots of whiskey before finishing an entire pitcher of beer, you wondered how he maintained his physique. He never slurred his words or stumbled, he seemed entirely happier when he was drinking, a completely different person. 

He’d forced you to drink a cocktail and that quickly made you feel wobbly. The nights were a blur of conversations and you were tethered to reality by the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your lower back. He never introduced you as his assistant to his rich friends. You were just Y/N. “She’s cute, yeah?” He would say to people. Usually your dress was way too short or your cleavage was spilling from your top.  Unfortunately, you sipped your drink when you were nervous.

You were exhausted by the end of the night and a little tipsy though you hadn’t dared to drink nearly as much as he did. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you home,” He’d said, hand on your waist as he guided you out of the restaurant. Sometimes it made you feel protected. Like Rafe could hurt you, sure, but at least no one else could. 

“Should you be driving?” You’d mistakenly asked, words slipping out before you could stop them. He took it as a challenge to his manhood and the look on his face made you regret it. 

“I’m fine,” He’d looked at you sharply before he commanded, “Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t hesitate any longer and let him him help you into the passenger side of his truck. He kept his eyes focused on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, and you hoped he wasn’t angry, maybe just deep in thought. 

When he pulled up to your apartment complex, you fumbled for the door handle, eager to escape the tension. But before you could step out, Rafe’s hand was on your arm.

“I’m coming up,” he stated firmly.

“It’s a weeknight,” you said, trying to find a reason that would convince him otherwise. “My roommates are probably asleep by now.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “I’ll be quiet,” a hint of his boozed up charm returned to his voice. Reluctantly, you led him upstairs.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find your roommates, Imani and Angel, still awake, standing in the kitchen with a bottle of wine between them. Their laughter filled the small apartment. Their expressions shifted to complete shock at the sight of Rafe behind you. You smiled, trying to give the impression that all was well, that it was completely normal to be returning to your apartment with your drunk, billionaire boss. 

Imani, with her flawless olive complexion and neatly styled curls, scrutinized the scene with furrowed brows. Beside her, Angel stood tall and vibrant, her unruly tight curls escaping their single hair tie, her mouth agape in astonished silence as she stared at you. Both much more beautiful than you, a sad thought crossed your mind, and you worried for a short millisecond that Rafe would realize he’d made a mistake in picking you. 

“Hey,” You did you best to sound casual, “Rafe, this is Imani and Angel. Imani, Angel, this is Rafe.”

“Your boss, Rafe?” Imani asked incredulousy, her arms crossing over her faded band tee. “I don’t understand-”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron,” Angel blurted out, practically bouncing on her bare feet, “Can I offer you a drink? We both had a shitty day so we whipped out the strawberry moscato.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. And thanks, tempting offer but I’m quite satisfied at the moment,” His voice was smooth and effortlessly disarming. He placed a hand on your waist, pulling you into him, and your eyes widened, “I’m just here to make sure Y/N gets a good night’s rest.”

Both Imani and Angel looked at you with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Imani’s eyes, in particular, were sharp and disapproving, clearly questioning how you had kept this from her. Her gaze was heavy with the unspoken question: How could you be involved with Rafe and not have told her?

“Make yourself at home,” Angel said, clearly more excited than angry, and Imani’s intense gaze snapped to her, “I’m about to make popcorn and we’re about to watch a movie if you guys-”

“Angel,” Imani whispered harshly, “Leave them alone.”

“I’m j-j-just gonna, uhm, goodnight, guys,” You took Rafe’s arm and led him away from the tension filled kitchen to the narrow hallway that led to your bedroom. You felt he weight of Imani’s disapproval lingering in the air. 

Your small apartment that you shared with two other people was a stark contrast to the luxurious settings you’d been in over the last few weeks. As Rafe’s eyes wandered over your tiny room, the awkwardness of the situation continued to build. 

“This is …cozy,” He said after you shut the door. He was already taking off his suit jacket and undoing his cuff links. Was Rafe Cameron really going to spend the night here with you? Maybe he was drunker than you thought.  “So this is where you unwind after a long day of dealing with me?” 

Was that humor you heard in his voice? Dealing with him. You more than dealt with Rafe Cameron. You practically let him walk you around on a leash. 

“Do you feel bad for me yet?” You tried to joke but there was too much animosity in your tone. 

He chuckled before starting to undo his belt, “I try not to feel bad for other people. Life’s easier that way. Sides’, this won’t be your life for much longer.”

As he stripped down to his underwear, he started to settle into your bed, the lines between your professional and personal worlds now blurrier than ever. 

“I wasn’t expecting t-t-t-t … to have company tonight,” You said, gathering his pile of clothes from your carpet and doing your best to fold them and place them neatly on top of your dresser. 

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” He winked as he folded his arms behind his head, and you had to avert your eyes from his statue-esque physique. Broad shoulders, thick arms and chest, and abs that acted like an arrow that pointed down to his … “Plus, I wanted to see where you lived.”

“Now you see I d-d-don’t have sss-space for all my new work outfits,” You started to undress now, realizing there was no way out of this long night except by sleeping. You kicked off your heels, placing them neatly at the bottom of your closet. You put an oversized t-shirt on and used it to cover your body as you slipped off your mini-dress. 

“Yeah, I see that now. It’s like a shoebox in here,” You shot him an offended look and he smiled stupidly, “It’s cute.”

“You sss-say that word a lot,” You mumbled before finding a pair of fuzzy socks and taking a seat at the very edge of your bed, bending over to slip them on. 

“C’mere,” he patted the spot next to him and you hesitated. 

He wouldn’t, you thought, not while your roommates were on the other side of a paper thin wall. But he would, you remember, Rafe Cameron would do that. He already had the gall to walk into your apartment with his hand on your waist despite being the one who paid your salary. He would do it and you’d let him because you had no spine. 

“Y/N?” You pinched your eyes shut for a brief moment before you inevitable crawled into the spot next to him. You’d never really laid next to him in bed and it wasn’t what you were expecting. Even on his side, laying down, his presence enveloped you. You felt small like you usually did. He easily pressed himself to you, impossibly strong arms pulling your fronts together. 

“You hhh-have to be quiet,” You whispered. 

“I’m not the loud one,” He chuckled, warm breath tickling your shoulder and making you shiver. He placed a kiss there, one arm wrapped around your back and pulling you closer while the other tickled over the skin on your bare thigh, “I could fuck you so slow, so gentle, and I’m sure you’d be screaming.”

“No,” You argued though you weren’t sure why. 

“No? You think you could stay quiet?” A excruciatingly soft and wet kiss was placed on your collarbone. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, “I’m sss-sserious, Rafe.”

“So informal,” He shook his head, the hand that was on your thigh started to peel up your shirt. To your surprise, Rafe ducked inside the fabric of your shirt, beginning to burrow his head into your breast, “My fucking favorite place on your cute, little body.”

He seemed to groan, something animalistic, placing kisses along your skin. His breath tickled your nipples and you tried to pull away. He flips you fully onto your back, pinning you with his weight, his mouth threatening to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You couldn’t take it, “Okay, okay, y-yess,” You rushed out, “I c-couldn’t stay quiet. You’re right.”

You look down to watch him pop his head out from under your shirt, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “I-I admit it. Please.”

“Please stop? Please fuck you quietly?” Rafe teased you, “You’re not adding sir to the end of your sentences so it gets kinda hard to understand–”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” You pleaded with him through your eyes, “Please …fuck me quietly, Sir.”

“That’s better,” He pulled your shirt over your breasts before he completely devoured them. 

The next time Rafe decided to have sex with you was two weeks later, right as he walked into his office. You should’ve known by the outfit he had chosen for you. The white blouse had an air of professionalism, but the plaid, pleated skirt barely reached mid-thigh, making you certain the entire elevator caught a glimpse of your underwear when you dropped your notebook that morning.

It felt like he’d been teasing you up until that point. You'd lost track of how many times he made you orgasm in front of him during those two weeks. He had an insatiable fascination with watching you pleasure yourself, wanting you completely vulnerable, often in compromising positions, with your eyes locked on his the moment it happened. Whether it was on top of his desk, against the office window, or bent over a coffee table, you were starting to grow comfortable with being uncomfortable.

He couldn’t resist touching you, making you grind against him, or rapidly moving his fingers in and out of you until you were shaking. However, he had managed up until that point to not actually fuck you. It was getting to the point you found yourself pouting at him from your desk as you watched him complete his daily meetings. 

You didn’t have a chance to get out your usual spiel about his meetings for the day because his briefcase was already on the ground, and his arms were wrapped around your backside as he carried you over to his desk, “Take off your panties,” He commanded after setting you on his desk. He stepped back, fumbling with his belt and zipper, “Now, sweetheart. C’mon.” He said and you realized you clearly weren’t moving fast enough for him. 

Your panties weren’t even around your knees before he was lifting up your legs and pulling them off the rest of the way. He parted your legs, immediately dipping his fingers into you, “You’re already wet,” It was just an observance. No smile or smirk or evidence that he was at all pleased with the revelation, “Desperate little girl. You been thinking about me, yeah?”

You stared up at his lips, pink and parted and imagined them on yours, his soft stubble tickling the skin of your mouth. Why wasn’t he kissing you? Everything with him was a ritual. You couldn’t get what you wanted until you felt utterly humiliated and vulnerable. He couldn’t get what he wanted until you had tears in your eyes. You nodded, “Yes.”

“Fucking say it,” He barked and you winced. 

“I’ve b-b-been th-thhhinking about you,” You admitted although he already knew it. Your own well being seemed to rely on being obsessed with him. If you wanted any sexual satisfaction, he was the one who brought it. He was the entire reason you had a good income now. He was everything. 

“You haven’t touched yourself though, not without my permission?”

You nodded, “Nnn-not without your permission.”

“Cause you need me,” He finally placed his lips on yours and you nodded against them. 

“I nnn-need you,” You mewled between kisses as he pressed his crotch into yours. The two of you both tilted back towards his desk, “Please, Sir.”

You had consented, despite not being fully prepared. It didn’t feel like the first or second time. The first time had been overwhelming, your orgasms crashing over you like a storm, while the second time had been so gentle that the pleasure left you feeling like you were vibrating with ecstasy. You wanted him, undeniably, but nothing had prepared you for the intensity of him filling you completely. This was what you had desirel, feeling full, but now you were overwhelmed, as though he was consuming every part of you.

With his hands braced on either side of your head, he looked down at you, his gaze intense and focused. He moved inside you with a relentless, unyielding rhythm, driving into you with an insatiable need.

The room faded away around you. You couldn’t feel yourself breathing nor could you hear the sounds leaving your mind. You just stared back, your face a mix of anguish and pleasure, and accepted your fate. You didn’t fight your orgasm this time, your body moved instinctively, squeezing around him, your hips grinding up for more friction. 

When he was close, he pulled out of you. Your energy was already gone, your orgasm having taken almost everything from you, but he moved your body effortlessly. He pulled you off the desk before placing you on your knees in front of you. Your legs folded easily, weakly, “Fuck,” He cursed, pantting, and you watched him take his cock in his own hand. 

You reached out to take ahold of him but he pushed your hand away. His hands moved, determined, rhythmic, “Ask me to cum on your face.”

His breaths were heavy, desperate, and he clung to that control that had slipped away when he was inside you. 

“Will y-you cum on my face, Sir?” 

The question hung in the air, tension thickening, until he was finally gritting his teeth. He broke eye contact only as his orgasm ripped through him. The room filled with his moans and you did your best not overreact to that warm, sticky feeling that was now violating your senses. 

“Good girl, look at you,” He said and you squeezed your eyes tightly as it began to drip onto your eyelid. 

You breathed deeply, the intensity of the moment deciding to peak, and tears started to spill over. You became a crumpled pile of pleasure, shame and exhaustion. It seemed like the only way to release your emotions. Unexpectedly, you didn’t sit their alone. Rafe was the one to wipe your face with a tissue. He cooed, “Hey, you did good, kid. You’re a good girl,” He whispered sweet nothings to you. 

“C-C-Can you hold me?” You asked, voice trembling, so embarrassed that you didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to see how he was feeling or know what he was thinking. It was all too much.

Without a word, Rafe lifted you effortlessly into his arms. His strength was both reassuring and overwhelming as he carried you behind his desk, his body warm and solid against yours. He settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap with a sense of protective intimacy. For the rest of the morning, he worked with you nestled against him, your face buried into his neck. 

Rafe Cameron’s Appalachian cabin was one of the twelve properties he owned personally. You got to it by passing though a quaint and charming town. Despite the fact that he normally spends only three weekends of the entire year there, all the locals know him. 

The four of you; Rafe, you, Eleanor and Topper, made your way down main street which was lined with old-fashioned storefronts. In the middle was the town square which featured an old, courthouse building and a gazebo where you see a few locals gathering. The four of you enjoy a diner meal at the Blue Ridge Breakfast Bar before you walk through a few shops. It almost feels .. normal. You were surprised the three of them were even willing to walk through the antique buildings, let alone find the shops interesting. 

You didn’t know people like them even ate at diners or were interested in antique trinkets that cost less then five dollars. It was surreal. In another life, the three of them were normal people, and maybe you and Rafe could have been a normal couple. 

You often found yourself glancing at Rafe, marveling at the contrast between his usual, impeccably dressed self and the more relaxed look he wore today. Seeing him in jeans and a baseball cap, casually strolling through the town, was almost disorienting. 

It was a similar feeling you got when Rafe suddenly flipped a switch after being cruel to you and decided to comfort you. 

Despite the fact that he was technically on vacation, you were still his personal assistant, and yet he hadn’t asked you about anything related to assisting him since he picked you up that morning from your apartment. 

You wouldn’t say it to him, partially out of fear that he would deny it, but it felt like he wanted you appear like a couple. Topper and Eleanor undoubtedly new the truth so why was he acting like this? You never held hands like them but his hand would find your knee when you sat next to each other and sometimes he wrapped around your shoulder when you were standing close by. 

Sometimes, your body didn’t want to relax around him, and the intimacy brought you anxiety. Soemtimes he was easier to read when he was drunk, or inside of you, or yelling at you. You weren’t familiar with this version of him. But you were stuck with the three of them for the next three nights. 

Surrounded by towering pines and the soft hush of nature, the cabin was more of fortress nestled into the natural beauty of the mountains. You followed Rafe across a gravel path towards a large front porch which was framed by sturdy wooden columns. You stared up at large windows that endorned the front of the house, undoubtedly letting in a large amount of natural light, as you walked through the entrance. 

The house was a complete reflection of his taste and the extent of his success. As Topper and Rafe left for the bedroom to drop off luggage, you and Eleanor made your way to the kitchen with the bags of groceries you’d acquired from the local mini-mart. Surprisingly, this place didn’t come with it’s own personal chef. 

Like with everything else, you followed Eleanor’s lead when it came to cooking that weekend. She encouraged you to get ingredients for a dish you knew you could make on your own and you chose spaghetti despite the idea of feeding billionaire Rafe Cameron your homemade spaghetti making you feel stupid. 

“I’ll show you how to arrange a charcuterie board,” She said as she poured you a glass of red wine, “You’ll be the perfect housewife when I’m done with you, Y/N.”

The afternoon actually ended up being fun. You and Eleanor laughed in the kitchen while Rafe and Topper watched a football game in the living room, nursing cans of beer. The wine relaxed you and soon you were giggling over unevenly cut salami and spilled strawberry jam. The two of you ended up eating half the ingredients meant for the board, much to Eleanor’s amusement.

Eleanor loosened up even more, even getting comfortable enough to tell you a story about Topper, “You know, one time back when we lived in Kildare, he tried to make me pancakes for my birthday. From the box, not even from scratch, and he burnt every one. Literally every single one. The kitchen looked like it had been through a tornado. I don’t know how he even managed that.”

You covered your mouth, shaking your head, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“He went through the whole box! He had to serve them to me like that. No amount of syrup and whip cream can mask that taste.”

“I didn’t realize we were telling personal stories,” You whipped your head around as you heard Topper’s voice. Your heart raced for a second, worried, but he made his way around the kitchen island and hugged his wife from behind. Rafe was following behind him but made his way over to you. You composed yourself as much as possible. 

“I was telling Y/N about how good of a cook you are,” She joked and he playfully tickled her sides and soon they were laughing together. 

The two male’s casual demeanors seemed to complement the laid-back energy of the afternoon. You watched Rafe’s lips pull into a smirk as he surveyed your work and your empty glass of wine. 

Dinner rolled around a few hours later, a relaxed atmosphere continuing to permeate through the air. You’d set the table in the dining room, the ten-person table sat next to a large window overlooking an expansive lake, and aided Eleanor in preparing her beef stir-fry. 

“It’s really good, Eleanor,” You complimented her once all of you were seated and digging into your food. 

“Thanks,” She grinned, “You’re a good sous chef, Y/N.”

A smile tugged at your lips, “Not better than me though, right, honey?” Topper asked. 

“Of course not, honey,” Eleanor winked at him. 

Small talk ensued and despite the fact that Eleanor warned the two men that business talk would bring down the room, they spent a good ten minutes talking about something called “tax increment financing”. 

Eleanor interrupted after it became too much, “So, Rafe, are you going to do any more renovations on this place?”

“After they finish the pool next summer, no. Did the home theatre, renovated the master bathroom and expanded the garage this summer. It’ll probably be move-in-ready next year.”

“Oh, are you selling it?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Rafe’s gaze flickered away, an unusual reaction for him. He usually had a quip or a witty retort ready. “No, I plan to spend more time away from Charlotte after New Year's. I’ll be living here at least five days a week.”

“Oh,” You nodded though you really hadn’t comprehended his words. You looked back down at your plate, and as you took another bite, his words started to set in. It was an inappropriate time to delve further but your mind started to race. He’d never mentioned that he wouldn’t even be living in Charlotte after the next few months. Shouldn’t he have mentioned this by now? “I-I thought …”

“We can talk about it later, Y/N,” Rafe dismissed you, bringing a piece of meat to his mouth, and looking away. 

He spoke as if you were annoying him now. Eleanor opened her mouth again to change the subject but you interrupted her, “I-I’m sorry … w-will you still need me then? If I’m in Chhhh-Charlotte and you’re here.”

“Did you hear me the first time, Y/N?” Rafe’s jaw set as he dropped his silverware. The clang made you jump but your mind was spinning. It was a simple question, wasn’t it? Was he stringing you a long? Would you be out of a job next year? 

“I-It p-p-p-pertains to me,” You continued, your heart racing as Rafe grimaced, “Can’t y-you just say if I’ll have a job or not?”

“You’ll have a job,” Getting confirmation made your shoulders drop from relief. It was almost worth whatever seed of rage you’d planted within him, “But you’ll relocate with me.”

“What?” You pushed your plate away, leaning back in your chair. 

Topper and Eleanor exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the escalating tension. It felt like you’d already poked the bull, you felt like you had to see it through,  “I’ll need you to move here. Won’t make sense to juggle from two places.”

“Mmm-my life is i-in Chhh-Charlotte. You n-never said this before,” You tried to keep your voice steady, to express your genuine disappointment despite your frustration. 

“It’s not my fault you haven’t caught on, Y/N,” He spoke sharply, “You know how this works. I manage my properties and business. My plans change. You’re a part of that. You’re making it an issue when it’s not. You’re acting like you have a million options.”

“I-I know I don’t–”

You looked at Topper and then Eleanor. Now, the two of them were looking anywhere but the two of you. 

“Then act like it.”

“Rafe–”

“I fucking own you, you don’t even understand that.”

“Rafe!”

“One more word, Y/N, and I swear to God.”

Your lips parted and your voice started to tremble as you felt the sting of his words, “This is so … shitty,” Perhaps it was the distance, the wood table that sat between you that made you feel so bold.

Rafe’s anger erupted, his face reddening as he slammed his hands on the table. “Boo-fucking-hoo, sweetheart! I’ve given you everything, the clothes on your back, keeping the lights on in your crappy apartment, and you’re still ungrateful?”

Your frustration reached its breaking point. “Fuck you, Rafe!” you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t want it anymore!”

You pushed your chair back abruptly, no goal in mind for where you’d stomp off to but you felt your blood boiling. Was his entire goal to completely ruin your life? 

“Y/N!” He called after you and you turned your head to realize how close he was on your tail.  Adrenaline surged through you, the thought that you might never have control of your life left you close to completely spiraling. Determined to get away, you picked up your pace, practically running through the million-dollar home, over shiny waxed floors, moonlight shining through tall windows. 

He barked your name again and before you could reach the front door, his hand shot out and seized your upper arm. You screamed, his fingers squeezing your flesh so hard that you thought your skin might break. Swinging your body around, your feet lifted off the ground as he through you over his strong shoulder. 

Kicking, struggling, screaming and crying, Rafe carried you up a grand staircase, “Please,” You were begging but adrenaline was pumping though him too, making him moved with his own determination. He kicked open door and your head whipped as he stepped inside, slamming it closed. You couldn’t focus on any detail in the room but as he through you onto an expansive bed, you assumed it was the master bedroom. For a moment, you played a game of cat and mouse. You gained your balance, and tried to crawl off the bed. Every direction you went, he moved faster, until you were sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed. 

“You need to understand your place,” You watched as he started to loose the brown belt looped into his blue jeans. 

You shook your head frantically, “I don’t w-want this.”

“It will be easier if you just apologize,” Rafe let out a breath of air, a weary sigh, his face frustrated, “I promise, I’ll make it easier for you.”

“If I-I …w-will you use the belt?”

“I have to use the belt, sweetheart, you’ve been so bad. Tell you what, if you apologize, I won’t tie you down to the bed. How’s that sound?” 

The offer was as chilling as it was manipulative. You shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to apologize.

The process of what followed was both brutal and dehumanizing. You were left feeling exposed and vulnerable, your body laid bare and handcuffed to one of the posts of the canopy bed. The sting of the belt on your skin was relentless, each strike leaving a deep, aching mark that quickly turned to a disturbing shade of purple. Your apologies came out in frantic, broken pleas, but they seemed to come too late.

You even managed to ask him to hold you but he didn’t grant your wish that time. He left you to go back downstairs. You slid down to your knees when you couldn’t stand any longer, falling asleep in that position, head resting at a strange angle against the mattress. 

When you next awoke, the light of morning was gently filtering through the curtains. Rafe’s arms were wrapped around you, his steady breathing and soft snoring a stark contrast to the harshness of the previous night. His nose pressed into your hair, a reminder of his physical presence.

You cried softly against him, the tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to him. The sounds were muffled against his chest as you hugged him tighter.

hope you enjoyed!!

[hannie-dul-set]

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES.

p — MYUNG JAEHYUN x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, park sungho learns a lesson about minding his own business. w — swearing, death threats (as a form of flirting). 1.5k words.

requested by — @gluion “go kill yourself x “i’m pretty sure they have a crush on me”

note — part of my ship dynamics: insane edition gimmick. this is very the breakup soup coded. i just like writing about a bunch of idiots stressing about the dumpster fire love life of their friend. enjoy.

myung jaehyun’s friends are pretty sure he’s had a very stable, very loving, very normal upbringing.

“stop staring at me, you fucking creep.”

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make your heart flutter. can’t help it when you’re so pretty.”

“i’ll stab your fucking eyes out.”

“my eyes are all yours, pretty.”

so they can’t wrap their head around why he’s acting like he has not a single ounce of self-respect in his body. sungho and leehan watch as their pitiful friend gets shut down again by the most venomous glare, hostile sneer, deflected by the biggest pair of heart eyes in the world that’s ever longingly following your disappearing figure out the library door. “she wants me so bad,” he concludes with a self-righteous smile as he arranges his notes into one neat stack. sungho and leehan share a look. god almighty, please grant their friend wisdom and salvation.

“what...what makes you say that?” sungho attempts to prod. the first step to finding a solution is to figure out the situation. they need to know why myung jaehyun is so down bad for you, and why he’s so convinced that you feel the same way.

“huh?” jaehyun perks up. like he’s genuinely confused sungho has to ask that. “she was so flustered earlier. couldn’t you tell? it was adorable.”

“she threatened to mutilate you…?” 

jaehyun beams. “she sure did.”

there...there is no point trying to understand him, sungho concludes. leehan is, for lack of a better word, getting mildly frustrated. “hyung, what the hell?” he raises. “if telling someone you want them dead is an indication of romantic feelings, then my middle school bullies must’ve been head over heels for me.”

a silence. a pause. “we’ll unpack that later,” sungho tells him. then shifts his attention back to problem child number one. “you. you’re a grown man who has full autonomy over his actions and feelings, and i know that. but as your friend, i just can’t keep watching you being disrespected, jaehyun. i can’t help but get angry on your behalf when you greet her good morning and alll she does is tell you to go fuck yourself!”

admittedly, sungho got a little bit heated at the end there. but he has every right to feel this emotion on behalf of his dense and seemingly unaffected friend— who is still sitting there, a smile on his face, hands on his lap like a patient buddha who has learned the true meaning of peace and serenity.

“sungho-yah,” jaehyun starts with a pleasant hum. “there’s no need to worry. the feeling is totally mutual. i’m telling you, she likes me back.”

speechless.

in fact, sungho and leehan are beyond speechless. they have no idea where this ungrounded certainty comes from. they certainly have even less of an idea on how to fix his lovesickness, bordering on insanity.

so, reasonably— they call for backup.

“the only way for him to get his shit together is if he asks her out for real and finally gets rejected for good,” taesan declares confidently. somehow, they see a point. riwoo lets out an echo of agreement. woonhak asks why they’re all excluding jaehyun from this after school garage meeting. “do you guys know when he’s planning on doing that?”

“no idea,” leehan answers. “but maybe we can pressure him into it.”

“so, should we encourage him instead of telling him to give it up?” sungho raises. taesan affirms. sungho lets out a grunt and a huff. “god, that’s gonna be tough.”

a resounding voice of dissent arises from woonhak. “i don’t get why you’re all going against jaehyun-hyung!” he yells indignantly. “let hyung love whoever he wants! this is a free country! you guys can’t dictate his love!”

“he’s received fuck you’s straight in the face and swears she’s flirting, woonhak. you’re too young to understand.”

it’s four votes against one. woonhak can’t win against his hyung’s determination to save myung jaehyun from his self-dug pit of pitifulness that he’d been in ever since laying eyes on you at the freshman orientation. god, they never should’ve went. he never should’ve shot down jaehyun’s suggestion to just skip it. maybe then, myung jaehyun would still be normal.

but this is not the time to lament and regret. it’s time for sungho to right his wrongs. it’s time to bring jaehyun’s self-respect back, they decide. and it starts with a wake-up call in the form of your inevitable, brutal rejection. 

which, for some reason, does not happen as planned.

“what?”

“we’re going on a date.” jaehyun is as chipper as ever and sungho’s ears are starting to ring. “thanks for the encouragement, sungho!”

it’s ringing. it’s ringing so badly. “wait, what do you mean you’re going on a date?” he attempts to clarify, grabbing jaehyun by the shoulders because this is two-parts concerning, one-part kind of…proud? this guy actually succeeded? “she said yes? she didn’t tell you to fuck off and die in a hole?”

“she did. she looked pretty while saying it.” jaehyun answers with a bright grin. nevermind. this is all parts concerning. sungho “she also told me she’d kill me if i pick her up late after her class tomorrow. we’re going to have dinner at the thai restaurant that just opened. riwoo recommended it.”

sungho does not understand. he cannot understand because you, who seems to hate all of myung jaehyun’s guts for no discernible reason, agreed to go on a date with him? hello? has jaehyun been right this whole time? do you really reciprocate his feelings? or is this just some new form of torture? is his friend a masochist? is he the weird one for making a big fucking deal out of this? is this how relationships work nowadays?

a thought enters sungho’s mind.

hold on a second—

“anyway, i gotta go, dude. a pretty girl is waiting for me.”

—what if this date is a ploy for you to finally get the chance to kill him?

oh my god.

“wait!” sungho’s face is pale. his eyes are wide and frantic. “don’t—don’t go on the date!”

“hm?” jaehyun bats his eyes at him, taking a moment to think. then sparkles in realization. “oh! don’t worry. i’m not gonna show up looking like this. i’m gonna head home first to change.”

“that’s not the problem! jaehyun! no! no!”

this is it, his friend is going to die. that is, unless, he shows up on your date just in time to stop it. yes. there’s still a chance. he knows where the date is happening. he’s gonna tell the rest of them because there’s no way in hell they’d allow myung jaehyun’s cause of death to read stupidity by misconstruing your murderous intent as affection. they are not only going to save jaehyun’s life— but his dignity as well.

“remember, be quiet. be inconspicuous. they can’t figure out we’re here.”

hopefully, things go as planned this time. all five of them are gathered in a booth at the said thai restaurant, the eventual scene of the crime unless they do something about it. sungho is surveying the scene to find where you and jaehyun are seated. leehan nearly trips over his unnecessarily long trench coat while trying to cover more ground. woonhak is using the menu as cover but has since gotten distracted and has started to pick out his order with riwoo and taesan. “hyung, is the khao soi good?”

“yeah, we should order it.”

“what drinks should we get?”

this is hopeless. this is a mess. their best friend is about to die and all they can think about is dinner.

no matter. sungho can still take care of this himself. his eyes scan the main restaurant wing, from left to right, until his eyes double over in a screeching halt to the back of a very familiar round head—

“huh.”

the back of a very familiar round head that doesn’t seem to be facing the threat of decapitation.

sungho sees you and jaehyun sitting across from one another, jaehyun’s fairly loud voice raising over the music and utensils clattering, people chatting and passing by. “you’ve got something on your face.”

“touch my face, and i’ll kill y— hey!”

first of all, sungho wants to claw his own eyes out seeing his friend being disgustingly sweet. second, jaehyun did touch your face with a napkin and it does not seem like you’re attempting to murder him. in fact, you look flustered even. flushed despite the harbored glare, still seated despite your apparent derision and disgust. the back of jaehyun’s head looks exceedingly happy. the dots aren’t connecting. sungho is malfunctioning. 

“should…should we interfere…?” leehan asks, his nose barely peeking out of the trench coat collar.

“i think...i think we should just leave them alone.”

“but isn’t his life in danger?”

“i misunderstood.”

forget misunderstanding. sungho can’t even behind to understand in the first place and has settled that he wouldn’t even try so long as myung jaehyun is happy— happy with being on the receiving end of fuck you’s and go to hell’s in response to his you’re so pretty’s and see you tomorrow’s, happy with getting his advances swatted away and shut down, happy with whatever the fuck is going on between you and him that sungho really can’t just wrap his head around.

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[jasmines-library]

Remus Lupin whose sense of smell heightens around the full moon. You come to him and you’re stinking of Sirius. Obviously, he’s really jealous, especially around this time, and he’s clutching you to his side, rubbing his scent all over you, basically claiming his territory.

Lunar Possession

(Art not mine, found on Pinterest. Cred to original owner)

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: When I say I dropped EVERYTHING the second this came into my inbox...

Warnings: Pre-full moon remus angst, possessive-ish (?) remus

Word Count: 1.7k

⛧ MARAUDERS MASTERLIST⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Remus Lupin was not in a good mood. He was antsy. With the full moon so close, everything put him on edge: His ears seemed to twitch at the smallest shift in the floorboards and his nose seemed to smell every person that passed his dormitory door on their way to and from the common room. It made his stomach churn, like a boat being tossed about on the sea. It made his head pound in a steady rhythm that made it hard to focus on anything else beside the tedious beat. It was followed by a tightness too; pressing harshly against his temples. 

Remus thought he should be used to it by now. He had been dealing with the effects of the full moon for practically as long as he could remember, but he would never truly get used to it. Having you and Sirius by his side always helped though. Remus wouldn’t ever dare admit it out loud, he spent far too much time trying to convince the two of you that he was dangerous and not to be trusted, but you and Sirius calmed his nerves. You made the transformation just that bit more bearable.

He would forever remember the day that you revealed your animagus form to him. Remus could hardly find the words to express how he felt. Never before in his life had he had someone care for him the way that you and Sirius did. James too. He was scared at first,  Remus didn’t know how his friends were going to react when he told them about his lycanthropy. Almost certainly he had expected you to run and to never speak to him again. But that night you did the opposite and held him close. And Remus had never felt more loved and accepted. Now, of course he was cautious at first. Angry. Scared. But slowly the three of you had talked him into realising it was a good idea: He was coming home after each transformation with fewer injuries and seemed to be managing much easier with your help. Of course, seeing the scratches and cuts appear on his friends bodies each night made him grimace and try to convince you to stop. He was supposed to protect you and, instead, he was allowing you to get hurt. But you stayed. And Remus was impossibly grateful for that. 

Remus groaned as another ache shot through his body, and he turned tugging the blanket closer to him. The moon made him feel the need to hold you close all of the time. He yearned for the smell of your shampoo and the coolness of your skin flush against his. When the moon made him get like this Remus often found himself missing class. All of the people just made his nerves sizzle. Unfortunately, your boyfriend's condition did not mean that you also got a free pass to skip class. Or Sirius for that matter. So, instead of having you close, Remus lay curled up in his bed as his bones ached, waiting antagonisingly for you to return. 

When you finally pushed the door open quietly as to stop it creaking, you were clinging onto Sirius’ arm. You arm was looped between his and you leaned your head against the crook of his shoulder. The two of you had been like that all day, he could tell. 

You and Sirius had had a busy day to say the least. Not only had potions class run over, but you also had homework that you needed to catch up on during your lunch break. Not that you actually got much done with Sirius around. Sirius was an observer. He could tell from the way you held your shoulders higher than usual and walked with heavier steps that you were stressed. So he did all he could to help you relax a little. Knowing that you were also worried about your boyfriend, he placed gentle kisses to your forehead whilst you worked, or stole them from your lips in the corridor. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you to his chest to try and expel the tension from your body. Your boyfriend's efforts seemed to have helped because by the time the bell finally rang and the doors spilled open to reveal the flood of students, you were feeling much better. Especially because you could now fill the empty space that Remus’ absence had created. 

“Rem?” Your voice was quiet and tender, near a whisper in case he was asleep, or was finding everything too loud.

He peeked his head out from under the blanket, his hair tousled from hours of restlessness. You smiled at him brightly. It was enough for him to return it, and lift his sour mood.

“Hey, Dove.” he greeted, shuffling out of bed to greet you. He couldn’t help but eye his boyfriend who stood with his hand placed tenderly on your lower back. Remus’ fingers twitched. “Good day?”

You hummed, slipping off your shoes and making your way over him to wrap him up in your embrace. You knew it had likely been a tough day for him. “Better now you’re here.”

As you took another step closer to him and away from Sirius the tender moment between the two of you was interrupted. At first, Remus had thought it was because he was standing right next to you. That his nose was getting confused, another side effect of the moon, but now you were standing right beside him across the room from your other partner, Remus knew that he was not mistaken. You stank entirely of Sirius: warm, musky, rich, honey-like and a little earthy. It was complemented by the faint smell of cigarette smoke and leather from his jacket. Normally, the boy would savour the smell of his partner, but you smelt so much like him that it completely drowned out everything about your scent. Something possessive inside him seemed to switch on. 

Remus snatched you up immediately, pressing you so tight to his chest that you thought he was going to smother you. He couldn’t help the glare he sent to his boyfriend over the top of your head. Glowering, he pressed a kiss to your head as his fingers reached to fiddle with the hem of your jumper, trying to inch it upward.

You pulled away and frowned at him. Sirius also bore a similar expression. “Moony?”

“You smell of him.” It was a simple statement that came out almost as a growl in his voice. 

“Who?”

Remus gestured to Sirius, who had moved to sit on the edge of his bed, with a nod of his head. When he spoke, his tone was filled with something Remus did not possess often. Jealousy.  “Sirius.” 

Sirius furrowed his brows, before realisation crossed his face and he gave you a look. Remus was feeling left out. He had been feeling rotten all day and now he was being left with a constant reminder of how you and Sirius had been spending the day clinging onto each other instead of him. To make matters worse, the moon was making him possessive: he needed to state what was his. 

“Take it off.” Remus’ voice was demanding, but you could hear the need hidden deep behind it. “Please.”

You nodded, your hands slipping over him as you helped him to remove your jumper. Remus tossed it to Sirius and pulled you back to him. Although the jumper was gone, which had helped a little, he could still smell his boyfriend all over you. Understanding this from the way Remus shifted antstily, being the loving boyfriend that he is, Sirius moved to Remus’ trunk to pull out one of his jumpers for you to wear. Before he could reach it however, Remus snapped. 

“Don’t touch them.” Remus moved toward his trunk and took a sweater before a very startled Sirius could react. Siri nodded slowly, taking a step back and raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. When after seeing you slip it on, the boy released a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. It was better, but his mind still screamed at him: mineminemine.

“You alright Moons?” Sirius asked hesitantly, unsure or not whether to approach or not. Remus was still holding you close to him, peppering you with kisses, though he seemed to be less tense now.

He hummed, twisting toward his boyfriend but still not letting you go. This time his expression held much less venom than it had before “Sorry…” He started “I don’t know what came over me.”

Sirius took his chance to move toward him. Instinctively, Moony turned you away, but instead of trying to move you as he thought Sirius would, his boyfriend placed an arm on his shoulder. “It’s alright Rem. I understand.”

Remus tucked your head beneath his chin as your hand wandered to his own to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. “Still. I guess I thought I could handle being alone today… but it was all just a bit much. And seeing her come in here smelling of you…”

“Shh” Siri hushed, smoothing Remus’ hair. “You want to lay down?”

Remus nodded. “Is that okay with you, Dove?” He asked.

“Of course.” You smiled. Taking Remus’ hand you moved over to the bed, shifting the covers out of the way so you could climb beneath them. Remus followed, tucking you close to his body once more, and then Sirius lay on the other side of Remus, resting his head on his shoulder. 

Remus relaxed into the mattress as you ran lazy circles over the palm of the hand he was using to keep you in place. He pressed his lips to your head.

“I love you.” He murmured. “I’m so glad I can call you mine.”

“And we are glad to be yours.” Siri told him. 

“Thank you for doing this. I’m sorry if I overreacted…”

“Never.” You said. “Anything for our Moony.”

Remus pulled you closer to him. You had a feeling you weren’t going to be moving anytime soon.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

MARAUDERS TAGS:

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[revelboo]

Transformers x Reader Headcannons- problems

Pretty much how I write and overthink their personalities, actions, and motives. Soundwave, Starscream, Megatron, Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Jazz.

Starscream

• Can’t stop self sabotaging. As much as he hates Megatron, he’s his own worst enemy. Fueled by self-loathing, ambition, and spite. If every good thing is just going to be taken away, he might as well destroy it himself and take some petty satisfaction in watching it burn.

• You, though? He wants to protect this feeling you kindle in him. Even if he doesn’t truly trust that it’s real, he wants to pretend it is. Needs you to play along with him. Fiercely possessive because you’re his.

Megatron

• Exhausted all the time. With all that’s been lost, he can’t just stop at this point. There’s no peaceful end even if he almost wishes there was. The Decepticons look to him, believe that he’ll bring them home. To a better world. That guilt and responsibility fuels his hatred, keeping it going. If he fails, it’s all for nothing.

• They’re always watching. Looking for weakness to exploit. There’s always machinations among his officers, plots and schemes. You have no ulterior motives beyond survival and he can respect that. Even so, you’re willing to meet his optics even though you know who he is and what he’s capable of. Brave, foolish little thing.

Wheeljack

• Absentmindedly creating problems in the name of science. Is genuinely surprised when something blows right up in his face no matter how many times it happens. Forgets to refuel and recharge until someone says something or he just crashes. Generally avoided by everyone because of how often his experiments spectacularly fail.

• Even if he’s engrossed in an experiment, if you’re around, his attention is divided. You crash a lot faster than he does and guilt prompts him to take a break, because you definitely don’t look comfortable cheek propped up on a hand, sound asleep. He’s awful at taking care of himself, but surprisingly attentive toward you. Constantly worried because you’re just so fragile compared to Cybertronians.

Jazz

• Smiling through the stress. Seriously, he’s on a knife’s edge of anxiety all the time even as he plays it off. Everything’s a joke. Everything’s fine. Even if he wants to just scream, he keeps that easy going smile in place. It’s his armor and he needs it to convince himself as much as everyone else.

• Somehow you see right through him. You can lay a tiny hand on his plating and he just unravels. And you don’t expect him to just keep smiling through the pain. He doesn’t have to keep the act up, he can vent to you, bleed all the anger and frustration out instead of pretending it away. And he needs this more than you know.

Ratchet

• Gruff and caustic, that angry exasperation is all defense, pushing others away with sarcasm. No matter how quickly he works after a battle, the wounded just keep coming. Sometimes he’s not fast enough. A spark gutters out while his hands are wrist deep in another patient. He’s not enough. If he loses someone, it’s his fault. His burden and his blame to the point where sometimes his servos just won’t stop trembling.

• Somehow you understand that if you try to comfort him, he’ll fall apart. There’ll be time to grieve later, but right now the two of you work to save who you can, your little hands able to reach things he can’t. You don’t complain, just do what’s necessary. Later, he’ll cup you to his chassis, silent as you break.

Soundwave

• The worst part of being able to hear other’s thoughts? They never stop. It’s a constant sensory barrage threatening to overwhelm him unless he makes a conscious effort of block them out, so he’s always on guard. Can never relax or that tide of voices crashes over him. Finding out he can’t even block out human thoughts is a shock. You’re there in the back of his processor all the time.

• It’s why he needs you to sing for him. Doesn’t matter what it is, he just needs that one thing to focus on so everything else fades into background noise. The more you lose yourself in the song, the more he can relax, because you relax. Your thoughts calm.

[leah-lover]

Toddlers.

Alessia russo x Leah Williamson x reader

One might expect after coming back from a run to the bakery at 7 am to come back home and find silence still filling up the house or perhaps jazz music and the smell of coffee. What you didn't expect was bickering.

You opened the door quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping bodies in your bedroom only to hear them full on arguing up the stairs. You put down the baked goods in the kitchen and angrily stomped your way to the room where the loud noises were coming from. You found Alessia and leah both hovering over a disassembled crib arguing about who should do it and who should go to bed. 

“ Lee, you have a concussion,you should rest.” said Alessia, still in her oversized sleeping t-shirt. 

“ and you just played a game last night you are the one who should be resting. Besides, I know my body and what I can handle.” replied leah. 

“ Leah seriously stop with this nonsense and go to bed.” Alessia tried to command her club captain. 

“ What do we have here?” you jumped in before any one said something they would regret. 

No matter how unusual this encounter might seem it happened quite often in your household. Lessi was sweet and gentle while Leah was stubborn and hard headed. Alessia would easily give up control and  surrender either one of you’s  touch or words while Leah needed more convincing in order to let go. 

“ I couldn't get any sleep. I needed to move so I came here to assemble this crib. And  little miss over here wouldn't let me.” explained leah. 

“ you are concussed leah you need to rest;  this crib can wait.”  added alessia. 

“ Alessia,  give it up. I am fine. I don't need babysitting. If I do, I will make sure to call you.” said leah in an undermining tone. 

“ I am 7 months pregnant. I got up and went out to get us something to celebrate qualifying for the champion's league and I am greeted with this at 8 am. I expected cuddles in bed with my favorite people instead I got a problem.” you say as you sigh and get out of the room. 

“ See if you weren't a child lee we wouldn't have upset her.” said aleesia. 

“ and if you just let it go we wouldn't have either.” added leah. 

“ Enough, you two.” you yell from across the room and they go quiet. 

You opt for a shower to relax from the stressful morning you had. Once you got out you found Leah waiting for you. You ignored her and headed straight for the mirror to apply skin care. She came up behind you, put her hands on your swollen belly and kissed your shoulder. 

“ I am sorry.” she mutters. 

“ It's not me you should say that to.” you respond. 

“ She is angry at me.” you turn to face her and cup her cheeks. 

“ Say you're sorry and she will forgive you. You were harsh on her, you know. She was just trying to help you.” 

“ I didn't mean to snap at her.” Leah genuinely feels bad for what happened. 

“ So go console her and show her that you love and appreciate her.” Leah was like a toddler sometimes which was one of your favorite things about her. She gives you a kiss and leaves. After you are done you head to the kitchen, make coffee, and scroll on your phone. You were lost in your phone and suddenly you feel it get  yanked out of your hand. Your attention goes quickly to the new sensations on your neck. They were both kissing you, each one kissing a different side. Your hands gravitate to their hair and a moan escapes your lips. Their hands however were perfectly situated on your belly. Alessia stopped kissing you first which sourced a whine from you. She immediately kneels to the level of your belly. “ she just kicked i felt her.” she exclaimed happily. moments like these were why you kept up with their nonsense. And the sex of course. Leah does the same thing and you admire them as they talk to your belly in an adorable voice. 

“ So I understand that you two made up.” They both stop and look  at one another and smile. 

“ Sorry this happened, I know you wanted a slow morning.” apologized alessia. 

“ It's not that late. We can still go lay down on the couch together.” she added. 

“ Since I created the chaos I will prepare breakfast,” said leah. 

After you demolish your food you lay on Leah's chest and Alessia puts her head on your lap and just sits there admiring each other. You really love these two idiots and are excited to start a family with them.

[mypoisonedvine]

100 random dialogue prompts

truly random, there's a mix of angsty and smutty and fluffy in here. as a result it's nsfw and 18+ :)

"who did this to you?"

"where are you going dressed like that?"

"this isn't enough anymore. I need more of you-- all of you."

"I'm not angry, I just get tired of watching you get hurt."

"don't say stuff like that, it gets me all... confused."

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

"I never said I didn't feel the same way."

"you should go... before someone sees."

"I hate how you make it impossible to hate you."

"too good for you? don't be ridiculous-- they don't deserve you."

"fuck, do that again... please."

"you promise you're going to behave this time?"

"oh please, you knew what you were doing... you wanted to drive me crazy."

"no, it's not over. it's never over."

"so you're saying even if we were the last people on Earth--?" "nope."

"sooo... is everything supposed to just go back to normal after that?"

"you can't ignore me. not anymore."

"it's not what it looks like!" "is that a picture of me?!"

"you really didn't notice that I was falling in love with you?"

"is this really the last time?"

"I'm sorry, I swear I tried, but I just can't get over you."

"do you really think that toy can replace me?"

"don't tell me how to feel."

"forgive me, but I'm not feeling very patient right now."

"you could do so much better than me."

"what would they think if they saw you right now?"

"I didn't know you could be so obedient."

"you can take it."

"you were never my fallback-- I always wanted you."

"yeah, I want to, but... wouldn't it be weird?"

"don't act like you never thought about it before."

"I wish they could all know about us."

"you're the best mistake I ever made."

"no, I don't hate you... I'm angry, but I don't think I could ever really hate you."

"let's just stop now before anybody's feelings get hurt."

"don't get my hopes up if you're just gonna leave like everyone else."

"I can't let it end like this."

"if you do what you're told, you'll get a reward."

"what's gotten into you? you're being so... naughty."

"I think we're on a first name basis by now."

"don't do that... don't act like you don't feel this too."

"it was never just sex."

"I wish I'd met you sooner."

"you can tell me anything."

"why do we have to get out of bed again?"

"I think this is my favorite way to wake up."

"I was already yours."

"there's no way that was just a one-night thing."

"if you can look me in the eye and tell me you want me to go, I'll go."

"has anybody else ever made you feel like this?"

"it feels like we were made for each other."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and I miss you."

"I have an idea to make them jealous."

"just one more kiss?"

"do you really expect me to believe this is what you want?"

"if you say you're happy with them, I'll believe you. or at least I'll try to."

"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me."

"no, I'm in charge tonight, remember?"

"if you keep doing that, this might end a little too soon."

"hey, you lost the bet, fair and square."

"stop imagining it!" "I'm sorry, but I can't get it out of my head!"

"it's too bad we never did. we would've been great together."

"I never thought I'd hear you talk like that."

"oh, fuck me--" "okay." "what? it's just a figure of speech..."

"were you joking? I wasn't joking."

"admit it: you had a crush on me!"

"I just need you to hold me right now."

"friends can cuddle, right?"

"I wouldn't have picked this for movie night if I'd known it had so many sex scenes..."

"they're great but... they're not you."

"I always thought it would be me and you in the end."

"you're not actually trying to convince me that was a friendly kiss, are you?"

"if you hate me so much, how come you keep coming back?"

"do you remember getting drunk and calling me last night?"

"I'm free tonight if you still need a date for that thing you're going to."

"I'd do anything for you."

"I think I finally get what all those love songs are about."

"it's weird being here again... so many memories."

"I wish you'd give me a chance."

"I never meant to hurt you."

"just come to dinner with me. it doesn't have to be weird."

"seeing you with them made me realize you should be with me."

"just ask yourself for once: what do you want?"

"okay, okay, I'll leave-- as soon as I can find my pants."

"we need to be more careful next time."

"wait, why are you in my bed? did we...?"

"I took you for granted, I know. but I want to treat you right this time."

"kiss me like you mean it."

"keep the lights on, I want to see you."

"is it just me, or does your celebrity crush look a lot like me?"

"we promised we wouldn't let this affect our friendship."

"no, don't cry-- if you start crying, I'll start crying!"

"I want to see my marks on you tomorrow."

"don't act innocent, it's not going to work with me."

"is this really turning you on? I'm not even doing anything."

"come look at the stars with me."

"I lov--" "no, don't say anything. you'll kill the moment."

"what happens next in your fantasy?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this but... you were in my dream last night."

"why do you still wear the hoodie I left at your place?"