#and i spend more on weed than food

[29121996]

and also paramors tickrts

[arodrwho]

brother asks for money to get back where he's staying so i send him an uber gift card and he tells me he was gonna use some of it for food too but thank you and im like. unfortunate that you didnt say so beforehand! im not sending you more money though

[theimpossiblescheme]

Also, to assuage any fears about hundreds of pages of exposition dumping... there's no law saying that you have to relay your worldbuilding that way. You can break it up into bite-sized chunks scattered throughout the story in ways that can come up in the dialogue naturally.

Merchants are gonna talk about merchant stuff. They're gonna be the ones who know about where people are getting their food, how much stuff costs and rates of exchange, who's inventing shit, and so on.

Farmers are gonna talk about farmer stuff. They're the ones who know about what foods they can grow and when, how they get through the winters, who's coming up with devices that make their jobs easier, how they make sure their families are provided for when they're gone, and so on.

Noble families are gonna know about noble family stuff. They're gonna be the ones who know about how succession laws work, how the different nobility feels about each other, how they're amassing power and how they've done it in the past, what their relationship is like to the working class, how upward social mobility works if at all, and so on.

Soldiers are gonna know about soldier stuff. They're gonna know about the country's martial history, how soldiers are trained, who's allowed to be a soldier and what's expected of them, how long peacetime usually lasts and who's ruining it for everybody, and things like that.

This one's my favorite--storytellers are gonna know about storyteller stuff! They're the ones who can go into detail about the world's history and folklore, any interesting tidbits about the land and its people, and any juicy details about the Powers That Be that they maybe tried to keep hidden from the common folk.

Honestly, one of the best writing tips I've ever gotten is to give your biggest exposition chunks to interesting characters who can explain them in an interesting way. I've cited Doc Brown from Back to the Future and Mimir from God of War as excellent examples--yes, their primary purpose is to explain shit to the audience surrogates, but they do so in a very entertaining way, and they're genuinely fun and engaging as characters in their own right. And while yes, not all worldbuilding considerations have to actually be mentioned in the story proper, it helps to at least think about these things and know which characters can hop up and be like "OH BOY, I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED" in case they do come up.

I'm just saying, your options are not "stop the story dead Victor Hugo-style to explain how the sewers work" or nothing at all. You can find ways to bake the worldbuilding in naturally--it just takes time and effort.

FINALLY 👏 SOMEONE 👏 SAID 👏 IT. 👏 ALL OF IT.  👏ALL AT ONCE. 👏

(Thank you @fallingawkwardly​ for bringing this to my attention.)

[kxsagi]

“𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞”

a/n: happy mother’s day to everyone and all their mothers! i thank all your mothers for giving birth to you and especially to all the mothers of blue lock, specifically mrs. isagi, my mother-in-law 🥰 

i also hope that everyone did something for their mother today (if you have one/are on good terms with your mother ofc). i took my mother out to a sushi lunch today and also bought her japanese snacks bc i’m the best daughter ever 😚

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, mikage reo, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, kaiser michael, ness alexis

itoshi rin

rin pretends he doesn’t care about holidays but has a secret “mother’s day plan” folder on his phone that he updates monthly. he wakes up early, feeds your son, and lets you sleep in like you’ve never slept before. 

your son is dressed in a tiny suit and brings you a rose (which rin bribed him to do with candy). he says, “mommy is the best” like a little robot and rin melts. 

he quietly makes your favorite meal, sets up a fancy table, and puts on background jazz like he’s hosting a five-star dinner. 

“this is excessive,” you tease. 

“you deserve more.” 

after dinner, you all cuddle up to watch a movie, and he lets your son crawl into his lap even though he complains about being squished. 

later, when you're alone, he says, “you gave me a family. i didn’t know i could be this happy.” 

(he also framed your son’s first scribble of “dad + mom + me” and put it in his locker.) 

isagi yoichi

he’s been planning this day like it’s the final match of the world cup. he's got sticky notes, alarms, and even consulted your pinterest boards. he lets your toddler daughter scribble “happy momy day” with three backwards letters on a giant pink card and swears it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

he makes breakfast, which is burnt pancakes with way too much whipped cream, and wakes you up with a tray that wobbles because your daughter keeps grabbing at everything. you fake surprise and he beams like he just won gold. 

“yoichi, you used shaving cream instead of whipped cream.” 

“… i swear i tasted it and it was fine.” 

you spend the day with both of them clinging to you like koalas, and at night, he hands you a scrapbook filled with your baby’s milestones and little notes he wrote to you throughout her first year. 

“thank you for making our house a home. i love you more than football. okay, equal to football.” 

nagi seishiro

you wake up to your daughter giggling and nagi spooning you like a blanket burrito. 

“sei, it’s mother’s day.” 

“mhm. you’re the mom. just chill.” 

his idea of celebrating is you doing absolutely nothing. he takes care of everything, which includes ordering food, letting your daughter cover the living room in glitter, and binge-watching your favorite show with you while braiding your hair. 

he even makes a tower of pillows, declares it your “throne,” and lets your daughter feed you snacks like you’re a queen. 

later, you find a crumpled piece of paper with a drawing of the three of you and a note that says: “thanks for being her player two while i’m afk. love, sei.” 

he won’t say it out loud, but he thinks you’re the coolest woman alive. 

itoshi sae

he’s lowkey emotional about this day, but you wouldn’t know it unless you caught him kissing your daughter’s forehead when she’s asleep. he starts the morning by dressing her in a little red dress and taking her to get flowers. 

“you have to pick the prettiest ones for mama.” 

she picks weeds. he still wraps them in a bow. 

he lets you stay in bed while he makes an omelet that’s… fine. (okay, he ordered from your favorite café and plated it himself.) 

in the afternoon, you all go on a walk while he carries your daughter on his shoulders, pointing at clouds and trying not to smile too much. 

he gifts you a necklace with your daughter’s birthstone and says, “you’re everything she looks up to. and everything i look forward to.” 

then he blushes and acts like he didn’t just say the most romantic thing ever. 

mikage reo

reo turns mother’s day into a full-blown event. you wake up to streamers, a custom cake, and a whole itinerary. 

“9 AM: breakfast in bed. 10 AM: family photoshoot. 12 PM: picnic at the park. 3 PM: massage. 5 PM: spa bath. 7 PM: candlelit dinner.” 

“reo, i just wanted to nap.” 

your son is dressed like a tiny butler. he hands you gifts and says, “this is from me. but dad paid.” 

he spoils you rotten all day, taking photos of everything. your son gets cake all over his face and reo wipes it off with that lovestruck look. 

at night, he says, “you gave me the best gift: our family. i’ll spend the rest of my life giving back to you.” 

you roll your eyes. he kisses your hand dramatically. your son claps. the family is ridiculous and perfect. 

shidou ryusei

you wake up to chaos. your son is standing on the bed yelling, “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!” and shidou is throwing heart-shaped confetti around like a lunatic. 

“you are the HOTTEST mom alive!” he says, tackling you with kisses. 

breakfast is cereal with five different toppings, and your son insists on feeding you while shidou records everything like a proud dad from a sitcom. 

he makes matching “MILF & DILF” shirts for you two and drags you to the zoo “because our baby needs to see animals that are as wild as him.” 

you end the day sticky, tired, and full of love. he pulls you close, son asleep between you. 

“you made me a dad. that’s the craziest, most awesome thing anyone’s ever done for me. i love you, mama.” 

then he winks. “wanna make another one?” 

you hit him with a pillow. he considers it foreplay. 

karasu tabito

karasu tries to act cool but is clearly nervous about doing everything right. he lets your daughter draw on his face to “practice makeup for mommy” and walks around with blush and wonky eyeliner all morning. 

he cooks breakfast (surprisingly well), plays spa day with you and your daughter, and even lets her paint his nails. 

“how do i look?” 

“like a man who loves his family,” you say. 

“damn right.” 

in the evening, he plays your favorite songs on a little speaker and dances with you in the living room while your daughter spins around in her pajamas. 

he gives you a letter he wrote: “i never thought i’d be a family man. but then i met you. and now, i can’t imagine a life without our little girl calling you mama.” 

(you definitely cry. he definitely takes a picture.) 

kaiser michael

kaiser wakes you up with a literal trumpet. no, not a metaphor. he hired a guy in a tuxedo to stand at the foot of your bed and blare a “royal mother’s day fanfare.” 

“mihya,” you groan, eyes still shut, “what the hell.” 

he throws rose petals on you like you’re queen cleopatra. “shhh. you’re the goddess of this kingdom.” 

your toddler son is wearing a tiny crown and holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates (which kaiser definitely sampled first). 

the day is full of surprises: a personal chef, a spa treatment at home, a matching set of rings with your son's birthdate engraved, and a slideshow of photos with him narrating dramatically over soft piano music. 

“this woman,” he says over a picture of you giving birth, “conquered the battlefield of motherhood with grace and a whole lot of screaming.” 

later that night, after your son is asleep and the theatrics fade, he wraps you in a hug and murmurs, “you gave me a reason to be better. and i swear, i'll never let our little prince, or his queen, go a day without knowing they're loved.” 

(you pretend not to cry. he kisses your tears anyway.) 

ness alexis

ness starts preparing days in advance. he makes handmade coupons, handcrafts a flower crown, and bakes cookies with your daughter that look… chaotic, but smell divine. 

you wake up to soft music and your daughter whispering, “mama, wake up ~” while ness tiptoes behind her holding breakfast. 

the tray has your favorite tea, little folded napkins, and a heart-shaped pancake with “mama” burned into it (on purpose?). 

he plans a quiet day: a nature walk, a drawing session, and a surprise mini tea party with your daughter and her stuffed animals. 

they all call you “queen mama.” ness is 100% in character. “would milady prefer the rose tea or the enchanted berry blend?” 

when the day winds down, he gives you a letter filled with pressed flowers and little doodles, and in his neatest handwriting, he wrote: “i’ve never felt more loved than watching you hold our daughter. you’re patient, radiant, and somehow even more beautiful than the day i met you. i want her to grow up knowing her mom is magic.” 

he reads it aloud, voice soft, while your daughter snoozes on your chest. (he also drew you as a fairy queen on the back, just because.) 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[eloquentlytired]

18+ NSFW. MDNI.

dreamlike — tommy miller x fem reader

warnings: slightly dark content, dark!tommy, smut, unspecified age gap but reader is over 22+, masturbation, handjob, cheating, tommy’s moral compass breaks down, unclothed grinding, surprise ending, sex outdoors, tension, maria ily this isn't personal I just rlly like ur man

notes: hi guys it's been 100 years I'm sorry ily + take this bc im ovulating 😎 tommy miller suddenly making me feel things bc of gabriel luna that's right. likes and reposts are appreciated🥹

“I don't think you've settled down quite just yet.” joel tells him one day while they're eating breakfast together. tommy glances, swallows then responds.

“I don't know what you mean.” but his eyes betray him as they return somewhere for the fifth time; at a distant specific table where you're reading some silly book again.

your food is yet to be touched while tommy’s and joel’s are nearly gone.

“tommy we're too old for this shit, you and I. you're my brother, I already know what you'll do before you even do it.” joel throws the bait and tommy bites it.

“I’m not doing anything joel except—”

“except eating Maria's food while throwing damn heart eyes at her.”

tommy hisses at joel’s truthful interruption, not so much at being interrupted but at the validation of those words.

“I’m just making sure she likes the food.” joel deadpans, tommy does the same right after because of his own words. gods, he is pathetic.

“fuck, just shoot me already.” joel shrugs at his brother's words and doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's grinning. “tell your wife, I'm sure she'll be delighted.”

tommy shakes his head and keeps on eating. he stresses over his thoughts so much that, lucky for you, he misses your piercing gaze and the bite of your lips.

he spends days trying to blame it on something other than him being a terrible person. the breakout, the virus, the living circumstances, the we need to work faster from Maria or that everyone depends on him for the hard stuff.

sure, tommy had chosen this in the first place but he doesn't even know if he wants whatever this is anymore. what does he want?

“mister miller!”

the tension leaves his shoulders as he watches you walk towards him, only wearing that favourite sundress of yours and an oversized jacket.

it's the first real summer that wyoming has felt since the outbreak. tommy only appreciates it because he's too lazy to gear up for winter.

“you’re early.” he says and finds himself smiling as you flop down beside him, sitting on the green weeds.

the snow is still melting but it doesn't make things less cold — but clearly you don't feel the cold he does.

“I helped in the kitchen so they let me off early.” you explain and tommy hums. he thinks about the past months when he'd found you during patrol, covered by the snow and nearly dead. he'd never ridden back home faster, urging for the medics to help you out and thank gods they'd done a great job. now you were here, a few months later, and trusting him more than anyone else while tommy was just a straight up bastard.

he fed you more than others, brought you new clothes that you might like and most importantly showed you his spot. that well hidden spot outside the fences which was an hour's walk away... it wasn't even special but it was spacious and quiet and a little cleaner — and suddenly he was calling it our spot instead of my spot.

for months you'd come here, chat with him and draw in your worn out notebook. the pages were running out and tommy made a mental note to find you a new one. fuck.

“what’s this?” tommy murmurs while his hand points at a very specific drawing on the left page.

he seems to pale while you just feel yourself growing hot. you'd drew him back in the cafeteria when he was looking at you, when he thought you were so unaware of his eyes but you always knew.

“I just—” you try to find the right words, or better yet the right excuse, but you can't. “I just did it.”

tommy catches on your tone as if you were afraid to receive a reaction. his reply surprises you.

“do I really look at you that way?” he asks and you nod, the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder clearly to test him.

tommy has never succeeded in any tests in his entire life.

you lay on the ground, indifferent about the weeds tangling in your hair. tommy’s face hovers over yours as he kisses you, one of his hands sneaking beneath your dress to squeeze your thigh and nothing more.

“tommy.” he swallows his own name from your lips, his lips kissing you feverishly yet the rest of his body doesn't dare move. tommy just sticks to laying beside you while his elbow achingly supports his weight.

he cannot trust himself to move, to slip between your thighs and only kiss.

the hand he's placed on your thigh earlier starts to retreat but you don't let it as you use both of your hands to capture his wrist.

“sweetheart.” tommy warns, his eyes blown wide with lust while his chest heaves up and down. he’s affected by this, feeling overwhelmingly lustful like he's young again, while also fearing the consequences of this. the aftermath of it.

for the first time you don't listen to him, pushing his hand between your thighs until his fingers come in contact with your soaked panties.

you hear him cursing beneath his breath, fuck this, as he touches you after what feels like forever.

he rubs you through your panties, his massive hand feeling the material soaking further as his thumb finds your clit. your head turns and you bury it in his chest while tommy just rubs.

his breath is hitched and he's in a far worse state than you for a different type of reasons. you drool on his shirt and throb against his fingers because you're excited, you feel good. on the other hand, tommy cups and fondles your pussy possessively while stressing over the limits. he can't do more than this — he shouldn't.

“can I touch your cock?” you whisper almost too shyly and tommy wishes joel would have just shot him when he had asked the first time.

your hand unzips his trousers and takes out his cock because tommy has obviously agreed, because it's your fault for looking at him with those sparkling eyes.

your foreheads collide as tommy touches you and you touch him.

his fingers eventually sneak beneath your panties because he wants it to be fair, you're touching his bare cock so he's entitled to your pussy right?— or maybe he really is just an asshole deep down.

nothing like the tommy that maria loves, nothing like the tommy that everybody respects. no, once again he's the tommy miller that only joel knows.

your fingers circle around his cock, feeling it at first, before caressing every inch of skin you can get. your eyes are on tommy’s as your foreheads keep touching and a soft smile occupies your face while you stroke his cock.

you're smiling and touching his dick and tommy likes it too much.

“you need a new notebook, don't you?” tommy asks through gritted as your fingers squeeze around his hard cock. because it's definitely the right time for conversations.

you nod, mouth slightly agape as his fingers circle your swollen clit and then dip between your lips, feeling you dripping.

“anything else?” he asks too softly while his nose brushes against yours, offering some intimacy that isn't just sexual.

“pencils?” you don't order him or demand. you ask because you care and tommy likes that you care in that way. it's always only if it's okay with you and that's exactly how he needs it.

“notebooks.. pencils.. whatever you say, it'll happen.” he slaps your pussy, not too hard, and you whimper.

you can feel your nipples hardening beneath your dress while your pussy simply leaks for tommy miller. your legs shift and you spread them.

tommy sways his hips, fucks his cock into your tight but soft fist and curses.

the summer breeze carries your soft whimpers and tommy’s gentle grunts. your hand strokes him a little faster as your thumb purposely brushes against his sensitive slit and you don't fail to notice the way tommy’s hips twitch when you do it.

the front of his shirt is a mix of your drying drool and his sweat but it doesn't bother him. his solid focus is to fuck your small fist and, of course, to pleasure you which is his first priority.

tommy can handle you, his middle finger circling your wet entrance slowly before he pushes in, the slide smoother than he'd expected. he adds a second finger minutes later, then a third.

you stroke his cock as he thrusts his fingers inside your pussy and for a while nothing else really matters.

the squelching of your cunt is loud and tommy curls his fingers inside you, reaching a place that makes you see stars. “tommy!” you gasp in that angelic voice and he goes a little crazy, fingers digging into your sweet spot as he becomes a little desperate with his thrusts.

your lower tummy shudders with delight and your thighs flex as his fingers thrust into your tight pussy recklessly, poking at those sensitive nerves every damn time.

tommy thinks you warn him about your orgasm but he's also not sure as he's too busy watching your face and your pussy reacting simultaneously. your eyebrows furrow and your mouth forms a small ‘O’ as your walls are suddenly gripping his fingers too tight, too deep.

you cum with a shuddering moan of his name and coat his fingers generously, becoming a spectacle. you squirt for him, because of him, and he'd draw out more if it wasn't for time running away from you two.

tommy seems confused when you push his hand away but then everything happens so fast. he can't stop it, he swears.

he watches as you roll to your side, your chest brushing against his, and slip his cock between your thighs. tommy can't breath when his entire girth slides between your pussy lips, soaking through, until his tip kisses your clit.

“no sweetheart—” tommy warns weakly but you're already moving, swaying. his cock is wet with your juices as it slides against your pussy, harder than ever, and he is utterly defeated.

“please cum on my pussy.” you mumble against his lips and he kisses you otherwise he might do worse. he satiates himself with this situation, sucking your bottom lip while thrusting his hips upwards and taking half of what he wants. something he doesn't deserve.

his balls swell and then clench as he orgasms, lowering his hips a little to cum on your pussy. he fulfils his promise, painting the surface white with his cum before resting his forehead on yours again. spent.

it's quiet for a long time as his arms remain lazily wrapped around your body. you melt against him, into him, and you two do your best to catch your breath.

when he looks at you again, the sun is setting right behind you and making you look surreal. you're like a dream while tommy is just there with a stupid smile on his face and half indecent because of what you've done.

then suddenly he doesn't feel real, his body is all too light before it gets incredibly heavy.

he hears his name being called out repeatedly tommy tommy tommy and he jumps, looking around with sweat dripping down his back.

maria stands over him as he lays on the couch because he's home — not outside the fence. not with you.

“I told you to cut day drinking with joel. he's bringing back old habits.” his wife tells him, pressing a kiss on his forehead before walking away.

tommy rises and stumbles to the window. the snow is still there, white and thick, while the red calendar on the wall reads December 25 like it's a fucking joke. like he'd never met you secretly in the spot that belongs to you and him.

reality hits hard as you pass by his house, that familiar notebook resting against your chest as you hug it preciously. you look at him instinctively, as if feeling his burning gaze, and you smile.

“merry christmas, mister miller!” you yell cheerfully and tommy nods, forcing his best smile.

miracles can only go so far and in the end, tommy can be content with just dreams.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Route To Sin - Eddie Munson

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: eddie decides to go on a roadtrip with you to visit your sister in vegas, when you stop at a themed motel on the way, things quickly take a filthy turn.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: my first eddie munson fic!! i’ve loved this man for two years, i just finally decided to put it on paper lol, please let me know what y’all think!!

TW: dom!eddie, slight brat tamer!eddie, reader has a sister, drug use (weed), food mention, marriage talk, dacryphilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, bathtub sex, oral fixation, unprotected sex (don’t do this), creampie, cowgirl, mirror sex, degradation (brat, whore), porn mention, spanking mention, pet names (doll, babydoll, sweet girl, sweetheart, angel), hair pulling, fem + afab reader, reader gets slightly insecure at the end

Rating: R, 18+

——

A waft of earthy smoke billowed from the open driver’s side window, the familiar smell pulling Eddie’s attention back to the van. You knelt on the bench seat, body stretched across the expanse of the front cab to rest your folded arms against the edge of the window frame, silently watching your boyfriend pump gas. The last of the joint you’d been passing back and forth dangled limply between your pointer and middle finger, careful to avoid dropping the simmering butt and accidentally lighting the whole place up.

“If you keep blowin’ that roach shit my way I’m gonna leave you here.” That signature sarcasm rang heavy in his tone, canines peeking out from under his top lip with the smile he flashed at you.

He shut the fuel door, grabbing the roach out of your hand before snubbing it out against the heel of his boot and tossing it into the ashtray on top of the nearest trash can.

“I gotta go in to pay, do you want anything?” He fumbled with his wallet, pulling the wad of crumpled bills out of the worn leather.

“Get me a slice?” You asked, tilting your head toward the neon in the window that read ‘Pizza: Hot To Go’ in blinking red letters. He nodded, hitting a light jog into the convenience store, wallet chain slapping against his thigh with every step.

When you suggested a roadtrip to visit your sister in Nevada, you hadn’t fully taken into account how long you’d need to be in the van. Hawkins to Vegas wasn’t exactly a short trip, two thousand miles to be exact, and as much as you loved spending time with Eddie, the old, worn out seat of his van was starting to make your tailbone ache. Being 16 hours into a 28 hour drive had you feeling more stressed out than usual, you definitely needed to sleep in a real bed tonight if you hoped to get any relief before your big weekend in Sin City.

Eddie came bounding across the cracked pavement, pizza box in hand and you perked up, his goofy smile illuminated by the final sliver of dusk and the dingy glow of the old gas station sign above.

“I got a whole pie, Rick wasn’t fuckin around when he said that new stuff would make you feel like you’re starving.” He yanked open the door, the metal creaking loudly on its rusty hinge. You took the box from him, setting it on the bench between you as he hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, starting up the van to continue your journey.

“Eddie, can we stop at a motel tonight?” You asked, opening the box to lift a piece of pizza out, folding it down the center and bringing it to his face.

“M’not sure if there’s anything on the way, but we can stop if we see something, doll.” He turned his head, keeping his eyes on the road through his peripheral as he took a bite from the slice in your hand.

‘Welcome Home (Sanitarium)’ by Metallica blared through the speakers either side of the van’s tape deck, vibrations from the heavy bass flowing through the vehicle and melding with the warm haze your high pulled over your mind, your body relaxing into the stained upholstery of the seat. You kicked your bare legs up onto the dashboard, white lacquered toenails pulling Eddie’s eyes off the road briefly. His gaze shifted down to your ankle, then your calf, then landing on your plush thigh, your soft skin peeking out from under your short pajama shorts.

“Eddie, there!” You pointed toward the sign glowing overhead through the dirty windshield, reading ‘Heart’s Desire Motel’ in faded letters atop a large metal heart. His attention was quickly pulled away from your soft skin, pulling the van off the highway and into the small parking lot. The place was quaint, baby pink paint peeling from the siding, with an old ‘vacancy’ sign blinking in the window of the front office. You pulled your sandals on and jumped out of the van, slipping Eddie’s jacket over your shoulders to shield your bare arms from the chill in the night air. Eddie followed quickly behind, catching up to you with ease as you reached the front door.

A small bell rang when you pulled open the office door, the only source of light in the small room being a desk lamp situated behind the front counter. You waited for a moment, hearing a ‘be right with you!’ called from an adjoining space.

“How can I help ya darlin?” A sweet older woman emerged from a back storage space, setting some paperwork down and taking her place behind the counter.

“Can we get a room for the night?” You asked cheerily, excited to finally lay down on something that wasn’t a blanket in the back of Eddie’s van. She smiled and nodded, flipping through the room log book, and you took the opportunity to glance at your surroundings. The walls were the same light pink as the exterior, with heart and cupid motifs scattered across them to really hone in on the theming. The kitchy aesthetic was endearing, a reminder of the bygone honeymoon resorts of the 60’s.

“All our double twin rooms are booked for the night so we only have single queen rooms available, is that alright?” She looked between you and Eddie, knowing her question may as well have been rhetorical.

“That’s actually preferred, it’s our wedding night.” Eddie lied to the woman, a shiteating grin stretched across his face when you turned back to him and shoved his shoulder.

“Well in that case I’ll put you up in our honeymoon suite! It’s not much different from our standard rooms, but there’s a heart shaped tub for you two lovebirds to enjoy.” Her face lit up with the sweetest smile and your heart melted, guilt sitting low in your chest knowing it was a lie. You didn’t have the heart to tell her or question why she’d believed it given the way the two of you were dressed, but you shrugged it off, just happy to be able to finally relax.

You took the key from her as Eddie handed her the cash to pay for the room, twirling it between your fingers, a red keychain etched with the same logo as the overhead sign on one side and the room number above a small heart on the other. Eddie shoved his wallet back into his pocket, his arm wrapping around your waist to usher you out of the main office, calling out a ‘thank you’ as you left.

“What the fuck was that?” You grabbed your bag from the back of the van, shooting him a death glare only to be met with that ridiculous smirk he so loved to taunt you with.

“What, you don’t wanna be my bride?” He faux pouted, dark waves falling in his face as you reached for his bag. You over-exaggeratedly rolled your eyes, starting to walk toward the room.

“Guess it’s the atmosphere of this place getting to me, babydoll.” He slammed the door of the van, jogging to catch up with you as you started putting the key in the door lock. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment from how that little nickname made your heart want to burst out of your chest, Eddie always knew exactly how to push your buttons in the best way and this was no exception.

The sight that greeted you beyond the door was like something out of a 70’s porno, wood paneled walls framing crimson velour window trimmings, a matching velvet comforter sprawled across the queen bed. Two poorly painted angels sat perched atop the heart shaped headboard, like prying eyes seeing every depraved act carried out on the altar below. Sure enough, at the far end of the suite was a heart shaped jacuzzi tub, tiled steps leading up and mirrors lining the walls of the corner it was tucked into.

You dropped your bag on top of the mahogany dresser across from the bed, and as you turned on your heel to shut the door behind Eddie, you couldn’t help but burst into a small fit of laughter at the cross hanging above the door frame. The idea that anything happening in this sex den was god-honoring was definitely scoff-worthy.

“What d'ya say we put that thing to use? My back is killing me and I bet those jets would feel killer.” Eddie’s fingertips dug firm indents into the flesh of your hip, a not-so-subtle indication of what his intentions were for the night.

“Whatever you want, daddy.” You winked, taking a step forward until his large hand gripped your forearm.

“What did you just call me?” He questioned, brow quirked in curiosity.

“It’s our wedding night, remember? Don’t you wanna start a family?” Your tone was playful but truthfully something about this place was stirring a feeling so raw inside of you that you weren’t kidding in the slightest.

“If you keep that up you won’t be able to walk in the morning.” Eddie released his grip, slapping your ass as you walked away to turn on the faucet for the tub.

“Won’t need to anyway, I’ll be sitting in your shitty van for 12 more hours.” You knew exactly how to push his buttons, and insulting any of his women (his guitar, his van, and you) was the quickest way to do so.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.” He half-snapped at you, digging through his duffle bag in an ill-fated attempt to stop himself from watching the way you wiggled your ass while you bent over the side of the tub, watching the waterline rise.

“What are you gonna do, spank me?” You found yourself deliberately arching your back toward to accentuate the curve of your ass, hoping with every fiber of your being he’d stop what he was doing and manhandle you a little.

“Only if you don’t stop with the bratty attitude.” He glanced over at you and immediately dropped the shirt he was pretending to fold back into his bag, finally giving up on his resistance and approaching you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your bare thighs. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your pj shorts and underwear, roughly yanking them down to expose your ass.

“Gotta get you outta these if we’re gonna take that bath.” His tone had returned to that lighthearted sarcasm that you loved to hate, and you almost let yourself sink back against him. Instead, you stood upright again, taking the hem of his tattered Iron Maiden shirt in your grip and lifting it up his torso until he pulled it the rest of the way over his head.

Just as he reached to do the same to your tank top, you turned away and reached for the tap again, putting a stop to the stream of running water. He gripped your waist, pulling you back against him before pulling your tank over your head, leaving you fully naked.

“Get in.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver up your spine that had goosebumps rising over your skin. Maybe it was your residual high, or the lovesick atmosphere of your surroundings, but everything felt heightened, your skin more sensitive, his presence behind you more intimidating, his voice more intoxicating.

You ascended the short step and sunk into the bath, the water level rising to not quite cover your chest as you laid back into the left arch of the heart. Eddie watched your every move, eyes glued to your hips to drink in the way your form shifted with every step. He made quick work of removing his jeans, letting the stiff denim pool at his feet as he watched you settle in, your gaze drifting to the waistband of his plaid boxers. He pulled them down at an almost agonizing slow pace, exposing inch after inch of his semi-hard shaft to your waiting eyes until his cock sprung free, the sheer weight of him causing his length to slap against his upper thighs.

You absentmindedly pressed your thighs together, trying to dull the ache between them to no avail. You never truly got used to seeing him fully naked, blushing like a naive virgin every time you had the privilege of seeing him like this. The muscles of his thigh flexed as he took the step up to level with the lip of the tub, towering over you before sinking into the water beside you. He was an Adonis, all toned muscle under a tender layer of plush tissue that made for the perfect sleeping partner, strong and comforting all the same.

“Come here, doll.” He patted his thigh, the water swaying with the movement alongside the low hum of his voice. You rose to your knees, floating to the other side of the tub and straddling his lap, your core sitting dangerously close to his cock. His hands found your hips, calloused fingertips digging into your soft skin with a squeeze before gliding up your sides, his thumbs ghosting over the sides of your breasts almost teasingly while he admired the way water droplets dripped down over your nipples.

“Always so gorgeous.” He groaned, strong hands finally encompassing your breasts, kneading tender flesh as his rough palms gave your stiff peaks the friction they desperately craved.

His touch lit a fire within you, and as much as the way that he looked at you with such admiration made your heart melt, your need was becoming more and more unbearable by the second. You shifted forward, rubbing your folds over the length of his shaft with a hunger, desperate for stimulation.

Before you knew it he had dropped his grip from your chest, threading a hand into your hair to yank your head softly back, drawing a gasp from your throat.

“Did I tell you you could move?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrow. He couldn’t help his sarcastic nature, it just came so naturally to him, and knowing that he had such an immense effect on you gave him the ego boost of the century. You shook your head as much as you could given the grip he held on your tresses, and choked out a soft ‘no’ in response before clearing your throat.

“I-I think I deserve some relief after being in the van all day.” You tried to put up a fight, not quite done riling him up, but your tone was quickly losing all conviction and Eddie could see you slipping further into desperation.

“You don’t deserve anything, you’ve been a pampered little passenger princess for 16 hours while I’ve done all of the work to get us here.” He yanked your hair back even further, craning your neck to look up at the baby pink popcorn ceiling. The sting in your scalp brought tears to your eyes, the liquid breaching your waterline leaving dark mascara trails down your cheeks in its wake.

“You’re being awfully bratty, doll, where’d my sweet girl go?” He cooed, free hand cupping your cheek as he loosened his grip ever so slightly to allow you to look at him.

“I’m sorry Eddie, I’m just so sore.” You sniffled, tears still falling from the shame the disappointment in his tone made you feel.

“Don’t cry baby, just need you to listen, okay?” He dropped his grip on your hair, both hands cupping your face, looking lovingly into your glazed eyes. You could feel his cock growing beneath you, the sight of dark makeup running down your tear stained face serving as the perfect aphrodisiac. He adored seeing you all messy like this, his perfect angel looking like a filthy whore, only for his eyes to see.

“Think we can both get some relief tonight if you’re good, can you be good for me?” You frantically nodded your head. “Yes, I promise!” Your enthusiasm made him laugh low in the back of his throat, that goofy smile returning to his face.

“Need you to use your words and tell me what you want, can you do that?” His tone held sickly sweet condescension and you could feel yourself slipping into that mind numbing headspace, wishing he could just slip into your mind for a moment and see all the dirty things you wanted him to do to you.

“Need you inside, please.” Your words came out barely above a whisper and he knew he wouldn’t get too much more out of you before you devolved into a mewling mess, too lost in your own mind to articulate your thoughts, but he couldn’t help but play with you a little longer.

“Inside where, sweetheart? Here?” He mused, bringing his free hand to your mouth, pointer and middle fingers prodding at your parted lips. You quickly took them in, sucking softly on his digits as you shook your head no, oral fixation too strong to pass up the opportunity to have any part of him in your mouth.

“If that’s not what you want then you need to tell me, don’t be greedy.” He pulled his fingers from your lips with a pop, his tone falling an octave. Your eyes widened, nodding in acknowledgment, willing to do anything to please him at this point.

“I-I need you down here, please.” You took his wrist in your shaky hand, guiding him down to dip into the warm water, lifting your hips slightly so his hand could fit in the tight space between your bodies, pressing his fingertips to the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. You stopped, releasing his wrist, not wanting to break any unknown rule and let him take the reins from there. He brought the heel of his palm up to rut firmly against your clit, drawing quiet whimpers as you did your best to stay still.

“What do you want here, doll? My fingers, or something else?” He teased, dipping two of his fingers inside only up to the first knuckle, the slight stimulation almost torturous as he scissored his fingers inside, stretching open the first inch of your cunt.

“God, something else, please.” You sighed, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“What then?” He stopped his movements, withdrawing his hand and you groaned from the lack of friction.

“Your cock, Eddie, please just let me ride you.” You swore you were trying to be good, but you were starting to feel like you’d lose your mind if you didn’t get the stimulation you were in desperate need of and you didn’t care how impatient you sounded.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He laughed, his hands gripping your hips to guide you up just enough for his cock to stand upright in the water, the tip bumping against your weeping cunt. “Whenever you’re ready, babydoll. You want it so bad, you’re gonna do the work.”

You took his hint, bringing your hand beneath you to grip his member, finally sinking slowly down onto him until you could feel him in your stomach, the all too anticipated stretch making you cry out in relief after his teasing. He groaned, running a hand through his curls as he settled back against the edge of the tub, watching you start to slowly grind your hips, just feeling how full he made you feel.

After a few minutes you lifted your hips once more, starting a steady pace bouncing on his lap, the head of his cock rubbing against the tender patch of nerves deep inside your cunt, velvety walls engulfing him with every movement. The water surrounding you started to roll like waves, splashing against the sides of the tub, threatening to spill out onto the tile surrounding it. You took notice, slowly your movements to lessen the potential mess, and Eddie sighed.

“We’ll clean it up later baby, just let go.” He reassured you, secretly just as desperate as you were to get off. He didn’t care about a little clean up, let alone wiping some water off the floor.

You were hesitant but returned to your previous pace, angling your hips back to really allow his cock to hit the sensitive place inside you, euphoria slowly building in your core. Your gaze slowly shifted from his face and when you caught the sight of yourself in the mirrors surrounding the tub you gasped, the lewd image of your makeup stained face and your tits bouncing with every movement of your hips was something almost pornographic, really living up to the atmosphere of the room.

Eddie caught where your eyes had shifted to and groaned, throwing his head back to properly watch you get off to your own reflection.

“Look at yourself, bouncing on my cock like a desperate whore, making such a mess.” His hand came down to press against your lower stomach, his thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit until you were a moaning mess, your thighs burning with the almost brutal pace you were now maintaining.

“Want you to make me a daddy.” He moaned, his breaths becoming more labored. His statement broke you from your trance, your gaze falling back to his as you searched his eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but you found none, he wasn’t kidding.

“Can I knock you up, babydoll?” He reiterated the sentiment, increasing the pressure on your clit and feeling you pulse around him, your orgasm dangerously close.

“I need an answer before you or I can cum sweetheart.” He was panting, straining to prevent himself from finishing, and you did everything you could to pull yourself together enough to answer.

“Yes, Eddie, please!” You maimed, tears threatening your waterline from how close you were to the edge.

“Say it.” He groaned, locking eyes with you one last time.

“Please cum inside me daddy, please!” You cried out, tipping over the edge with one last slam of your hips, pleasure rolling over you in tandem with the waves of the water around you, your walls contracting over and over around him until his warmth spread throughout your cunt. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly against you until the aftershocks stopped wracking your body, relaxing on his lap.

“You okay angel?” His voice was strained but sweet as ever, always concerned about your wellbeing above anything else.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, smiling silently against his neck.

Once you were fully recovered, you raised off of him, both of you wincing at the loss momentarily before sinking under the now lukewarm water for one final rinse. You began to step out, Eddie right behind you to grab your waist when your foot almost slipped out from under you because of the slick tile.

“Careful babydoll, don’t want you to slip.” He held you firm as you stepped down, making sure you were safe on the ground level before following you out, handing you one of the fresh towels from the pile next to the tub. He wiped up the excess water off the ground as you dried yourself off, and you didn’t know if it was the cold air or the rational part of your brain turning back on, but something started to eat at you as you watched your boyfriend dry himself off.

“Is it okay that I called you that?” The worry in your voice almost made Eddie’s heart break into a million pieces, and he quickly wrapped the towel around his hips before taking you into his arms.

“I loved it, babydoll, I promise I would tell you if I didn’t.” He smoothed your hair away from your face, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“How about we put on our pajamas and turn on a movie.” He smiled down at you, waiting for your approving nod before going to your bags on the dresser and pulling out your second pair of pj’s. He helped you into them before pulling on his own old band shirt and fresh boxers and crawling into the gaudy bed with you, cuddling up to watch whatever cheesy horror flick was airing on late night tv.

——

tags: @xxbimbobunnyxx @your-nightmaredoll

also tagging: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @littlexdeaths @eddiesxangel @bimbotrashcan bc i thought you might be interested, please message me if you’d like me to remove you

please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future eddie fics!!

[riddlesbunny]

delicate

summary: On a night out to forget his past, Aemond finds himself thinking of a future with you

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Stripper!Reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, sex work, reader is a single mom, semi-public, lactation kink, mommy kink (yaaay), handjobs, cum play 18+ MDNI

note: This is a repost 🙈so if it flops, it flops

Aemond Targaryen was never a fan of strip clubs. He viewed them as not only a waste of time, but a waste of money. Spending ungodly amounts on overpriced, watered down drinks. Just for a girl who pretended to be attracted to him, could dance on him for a couple of hours. He always left feeling impure while glitter and the scent of cotton candy clung to his clothes. It just wasn’t his thing, he had better ways to spend his time.

And yet, he found himself on his way to one now, on a Tuesday night. With his heathen of a brother and his immature friends. What had become of him?

You’re on the opposite side of town, also getting ready for the evening. Hot steam and the scent of lavender invigorates your senses as you’ve just finished taking an ‘everything’ shower. You’re scrubbed to the bone, freshly exfoliated, shaved, and now lathering vanilla scented lotion onto your skin when your phone buzzes.

Aegon Targaryen.

Aegon was your typical rich, frat boy who frequented the club you worked at. Over the years he had become something more of a friend than a customer. He would sometimes bring you food, or weed, or a pack of cigarettes. He had even came to your defense when certain men would over step boundaries with you.

He was a good customer, gave a lot of money to the club – and to you. He wasn’t exactly your type but there was no denying he was attractive.

you workin tonight?

depends who’s asking 😈 jk … u know where to find me 💋

perfect. and not for me 😢 have a guy who needs a distraction. wear smth expensive!

oh? 👀🤨

money talks baby

💸💦

It’s a rainy Tuesday night, you’re not sure why you agreed to pick up a shift in the first place. But you could use some extra cash, and your daughter is at her dad’s this week.

Even though the club you work at is one of the busiest in Kings Landing, you anticipate it to be an uneventful evening. Aegon coming in changes things, maybe you’ll have some sort of fun, and st the the very least someone to talk to.

It’s just you and two other girls working tonight. There are three men sat around the stage as Floris dances, and Sara is occupied with a private dance in the back. As you predicted, a pretty slow night. You have the bartender make you a drink, a dirty shirley. You sit and tap on the glass waiting for some action when Aegon finally shows up.

He has a decent sized group of guys with him, most of which seem to already be under the influence. In order to not appear desperate you wait for him Aegon to come to you.

“Lookin’ good, girl!” he calls, leaning in to hug you, “and you wore expensive perfume, that’s a good girl,” he flirts as he slides you a $50 bill and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Is this for… your friend?”

“Not a friend,” he states proudly, a devilish grin on his face, “my brother.“

You look past Aegon to the group of guys he sauntered in with, and then you spot him. A tall, lean guy with hair the same shade as Aegon’s; except his is much shorter, and styled neatly. He’s aimlessly scrolling his phone, barely looking around. You notice he has a pack of Marlboro Menthols in his hand. With a cool demeanor and a jawline chiseled to perfection by the Gods themselves, you are in for it.

He resembles Aegon for sure, though he is much more handsome.

“Gods, there’s two of you,” you groan jokingly.

“Actually, there’s four of us,” Aegon corrects, “but one’s sixteen and the other is a girl, our sister.”

Aegon hardly ever spoke of his family and when he did it was never in detail. All you knew was that they were toxic, full of drama, lacking love, and filthy rich.

“That’s right. Well, what do I need to know about this one?”

“That’s Aemond. Go easy on him, he’s a major nerd, hates all things fun, and the club isn’t really his scene — total opposite of me,” he notes, “but he’s been hung up on this older woman and I need him to get under someone else to get over it.”

You raise your eyebrows at him a second time, unsure of what you’re getting yourself into.

“What can I say? We’re a complicated bunch, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, right princess?”

You giggle at the pet name and he grins before he smacks you hard on the ass.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

You glance over in Aemond’s direction again, now he sips on an old fashioned and his expression remains unreadable.

You decide to head to the back to quickly freshen yourself up. You’ll need to mentally prepare yourself before sinking your paws into Aegon’s sexy-as-hell brother. You brush out your curls, pick away any dried mascara from below your eyelids and generously apply more perfume. Baccarat 540, it was expensive, thank you very much.

You take a large sip of your own drink before you saunter your way back out front and over to the table where he sits.

"Hey! You look like you could use a friend" you purr, “can I offer you a dance?"

Aemond looks over to Aegon who is giving him a thumbs up before looking at you. His eye scans your body.

"Um, yeah,” he finally responds, swallowing thickly, “yeah, you can.”

This time he smiles as he checks you out.

"You wanna go somewhere more private?" you offer in a whisper, motioning to one of the closed off rooms, "ya know away from prying eyes?"

"Sure," he replies and your perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his wrist, dragging him to one of the rooms. Once you’re alone, tucked away behind the velvet curtain, he takes it upon himself to take a seat on the leather couch.

“So how does this work?" he questions nonchalantly, taking a large sip of his old fashioned.

“You’ve never gotten a private dance before?” you ask him and he shakes his head as he swallows.

“Oh, well, I’m flattered,” you giggle, taking a seat next to him, feeling him out.

“Well, while we’re in here,” you say as you place your palm on his leg, “I’m all yours,” you smile.

“All mine, huh?”

“That’s right,” you soon come realize that Aemond isn’t even sure what he wants. You take a large sip of your drink, finishing it off in one gulp.

You slowly straddle Aemond’s lap, refusing to break eye contact as you move your body to the rhythm of the song the booms through the speakers. Your palms glide over his lean chest, teasing and tantalizing as you continue to sway your hips. Aemond keeps a firm grip on the couch, his hands not leaving his sides. You reach down and take them in yours.

“You can touch me, I promise you won’t break me,” you encourage, guiding his hands up your body.

His hands run up and down your stomach, causing a fire to ignite in your belly. His touch is more gentle than what you’re used to. He uses his thumbs to swipe over the sheer fabric of your bra against your nipples. You gasp under his touch but he quickly removes his hands from you, yet you feel his cock grow harder underneath you.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, your hands flying to your breasts, instantly feeling two damp spots there. Fuck.

It’s something you know is inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward. All of your regulars are already aware of your situation, but with someone new and unsuspecting, it’s an uncomfortable conversation. You’d found a lot of men are actually turned on by it, but there is always that chance that the current one won’t be.

“I – I’m so sorry. I don’t usually confide this, erm, Aegon knows… I have a one year old who’s still breastfeeding.”

Aemond appears to be at a loss for words. You need to get up before he can reject you himself.

“Let me just—” He stares at you intently as you’re about to remove yourself from his lap. He is definitely caught off guard by your confession, but not in the negative way that you think.

“That’s no problem,” he says huskily as he composes himself, “you stay right here.” His gaze is piercing as he keeps his hands firm on your hips, the cool metal of his rings digs into your flesh as he holds you in place in his lap.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” you mutter back to him, feeling relieved.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he tells you, the bulge in his pants evidently harder than it was earlier.

You study him carefully, there is a hunger in his eye that wasn’t there before, even moments ago. It’s as if his entire demeanor has changed. You figure you can use this to your advantage.

“I don’t usually do this, but I’m making an exception,” you tell him as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the dirty floor.

“Because I’m Aegon’s brother?” he asks.

“No, because …. I want to.”

It was true, you didn’t normally get this intimate with customers, but something about Aemond was drawing you in.

Aemond’s eye widens as you reveal your glistening nipples to him. You squeeze at your breast lightly, grinding yourself into him, and he rewards you with a moan. your thumb around your nipple, gathering some of your milk onto it before rubbing it along Aemond’s lower lip. He eagerly accepts it into his mouth, sucking it harshly, nipping at your fingertip.

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” he groans against you, releasing your thumb before leaning forward into you. He smells good, expensive cologne and nicotine. His lips find their way to your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. His fingers ghost down your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You arch into him, wanting more.

He continues to move at an agonizingly slow pace, taking his time with you as his lips make their way from your throat down to your chest. Your breath hitches once his tongue finally comes in contact with your nipple, lapping at the droplets of milk there. He takes your flesh into his mouth, gently suckling, careful not to apply too much pressure.

Your mind is going hazy as arousal leaks from your core, you grind down harder on him.

Aemond continues to suckle at your breast, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he drinks from you with ease. His eyes are closed, his mind completely lost to the sensation of you in his mouth. Your body trembles against him and he feels it, your small whimpers and moans sending waves urging him on.

He pulls away slowly, and you wince at the loss of contact. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses across your skin as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

You lean back, positioning yourself so that you have access to the button of Aemond’s jeans.

“Can I?” you ask.

He nods his head eagerly, unbuttoning them for you and yanking the zipper down with quickness.

You wrap your hand around his length, tugging gently as your free hand flies to the back of his head, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You lean down to cup and squeeze his balls as he sucks at your right breast.

“Fuck, M-mommy,” he moans.

Your eyes widen at his choice of words but they stir something in you.

“You wanna be a good boy and cum for mommy baby?”

“Yes! I’m — I’m good,” he stutters, rutting himself up into your palm.

Your hand works quicker as he finds himself back at your chest. Drinking from you like a man starved.

A few more languid pumps of his cock and he’s shooting thick, pearly ropes into your hand. You move your hand down lower to cup and squeeze at his balls for a moment before bringing it back to your mouth, licking away the salty remnants as Aemond shoves his cock back into his pants.

As if right on schedule, the timer you set on your phone to keep track of the time goes off.

“Well, looks like our time’s up,” you say with a frown.

“Looks like it,” he replies and the air swells with tension.

You turn to leave to give him a moment to find his composure, get himself together but he yanks at your wrist.

“Wait! Let me take you out!” he blurts out at you, “on a date, a real one. Please.”

You lean up to wipe a smudge of your lipgloss from the corner of his mouth.

“This was paid for, ya know?” You say empathetically and his eye darkens.

Great. You’ve offended him.

“I know that,” he says sternly, “Just, I want to take you out. Please. Just one date.”

“One date,” you repeat.

“Yes,” he assures, his good eye gleaming.

“Okay.”

You give Aemond your phone number and you let him add his to your phone.

“I will text you,” he assured before he goes to exit the room. You follow him out and watch as he makes his way back to Aegon who is bright eyed and clapping at his brother.

You make eye contact with Aegon and he mouths something to you that you are unable to decipher.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[corasexigence]

Intox Play Primer

Vet for high risk play. If you don't have the utmost trust in someone, control what you're putting in your own body and know where it all came from.

Check for interactions. Yes, this means sharing complete information about whatever medications the person getting drugged is on. No, the interactions are not always intuitive. Yes, this includes things like alcohol. Ideally, ask your doctor about interactions with whatever you're about to play with- they're trained in spotting interactions, you're probably not. (ETA- @vekarin-striae mentioned that pharmacists are often cheaper, more specialized, and less invasive to talk to about drug interactions.)

If you've checked the interactions yourself, assume you might have missed something. Even if you've gotten your doctor to check, be aware they might have missed something. I once caught a potassium deficiency issue in someone's existing medication that their doctor prescribed them.

ROUND 1- Use it for its own sake before you play with it. Spend the time together and set yourself up for success: easy access to food, water, comfort media, and comfortable places to sit and lie down. Know how long it should last. Get someone who's used it before to tripsit if you can. Don't give yourself any tasks that involve new skills. Be ready to offer yourself or your partner a redirect from negative or anxious trains of thought.

Know what a good time on your drug physically looks and feels like. This is crucial, because things might go sideways in a way you're not expecting. Don't just be watching for specific signs of an overdose (though those are worth keeping in mind too)- if something seems wrong, get help. Seconds matter and you're probably not a professional.

Similarly: if the drug is at all sedative, or a downer, or long-lasting, and they're unconscious before it's out of their system, check for breathing and check for pulse. Also, your risk profile is your own, but I don't fuck around with hard sedatives- there's too fine a line between which body systems they shut down.

Start with a low-to-standard dose, and adjust doses for any relevant interactions (e.g. estradiol approximately halves liver tolerance [alcohol, weed, diphenhydramine]).

In order to avoid dependence issues, I wait a default of two weeks between recreational uses of any drug. (I only count caffeine here if I'm having more than two cups of tea in a day.)

ROUND 2- Play with it scripted and above board before you play with it in an explicitly cnc way. Your communication and mental state will have shifted, and you'll need to learn to accommodate that; make sure you try things out without added communication barriers first. Also, make sure to talk about how everything went afterwards when you're both sober!

If you're going to adjust doses, do it slowly and carefully. Most easily accessible recreational drugs can be incremented by half the standard dose. Some drugs are incredibly sensitive to fine adjustments; this is why Fentanyl, for example, is so dangerous and not recommended to use.

ROUND 3- Don't get comfortable. Try to have as peaceful and relaxed an experience as you want, and keep an eye on things as you play with different emotional states- but DEFINITELY continue to keep an eye on safety. It doesn't stop being a concern because you've done it once and everything went fine.

ETA- Mind how drugs affect things like pain tolerance! You might miss important signals from your body. Also, pay attention to overlap with your neurotype when planning and risk profiling. You might desire or achieve different effects depending on your own specific brain.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hey there! I saw in one of another post of yours that you dealt with hoarding, any tips for de-hoarding the house?

Oh boy, do I have a lot. Here's what has helped me, a hoarder who lived several years at Level 4 (squalor, utilities shut off frequently):

Always be kind to yourself. Hoarding is a disorder and for me it was triggered by accumulated trauma. It will take a while to dig out, and you will likely have to wrestle with hoarding urges all your life.

Mindset tips:

Space is more valuable than stuff. Clear pathways, room to sit & sleep, prepare food, work on crafts -- it is *valuable*

Your home is not an optimization problem for storage. Again, space and clean surfaces are necessary! Not having paralysis of choice is valuable!

Cultivate awareness of when you aquire things and devise ways to break out of a buying pattern - put the phone away, go for a walk, etc.

Make some short-term rules: nothing comes in before two things go out. Only buy things you know you will use in the next month. Etc.

Kill sunk-cost-fallacy. The real value is peace of mind, not the potential of an object.

Decluttering tips

Clean out trash, first. Just get the obvious garbage out so you have space to work in.

Get some bankers boxes or bins. Create a group for sale/donate. Put some "keep" boxes in each room.

Start with 1 room to declutter. Again - trash, first. Then, go through objects in that room, putting in the group sale/donate boxes, or directly into the "keep" box for the room that object should live in. Don't worry about *where* in the room the "keep" items go in -- they go in the box, for now.

Try to get the decluttered room to a point where you can move furniture for a deep clean. And try to avoid putting anything in this room that doesn't belong there. You are focusing on 1 room at a time to fix.

Assess your decluttered room for how it might encourage hoarding. Again, is there not enough space? Do you need to take out or rearrange furniture to encourage living/working surfaces?

Don't be in a rush to sort through any of your boxes. Focus on reclaiming space.

Go through the boxes after you've had time to decompress. Some time should have passed and you now can look at your items more neutrally.

For your possessions, ask: does this spark joy? Do I have something similar already? Why am I holding onto it? Is the potential worth the time and space to hang onto it? If it is sentimental, is there a better way to use or display it? If it is broken or a crafting item, will I really fix/use it?

Get in the habit of giving objects a permanent home. Label shelves, bins, whatever else you need to.

Maintenance tips:

Avoid buying things when you're overly emotional

Designate landing pads for items. They don't have to be in the traditional places -- if you take your shoes off in the kitchen, then buy a boot tray and put it in there. Always put your wallet in the same space. Etc.

If daily clutter overtakes surfaces in your home, consider catch-all baskets. I have some in high traffic areas, like the dining room, staircase, and living room. Go through the baskets on a regular basis to weed out junk and put items away where they live.

Be honest with how much time you have to enjoy your possessions. Will you read that many books? Wear all those clothes? Make all those crafting kits? Are you spending more time aquiring vs enjoying?

Regularly assess your belongings and see what you can let go. If you are not sure yet, put items in a box and see if you can live without for several months. Date the box, and be brutal about dealing with it in the time frame you decide upon.

Get into a chore routine. Sometimes, chores are easier if the cleaning supplies are right there. I have an upstairs vacuum and a downstairs vacuum for this very reason.

A 10 minute "reset" at the end of the day goes really far, especially if you are a crafter.

Find something more benign to collect, if you are a magpie. I collect public domain stuff in digital format, video game items, etc. I'd rather be a hoarder in Skyrim than IRL.

I also "collect" experiences now -- I am currently seeing how many different trails I can hike. Maybe you would like something like birdwatching, to sate your hoarding urges. Redirection can go a long way.

I can go more into specifics, but these are always on my mind when I think about controlling one's hoarding. I hope it helps!

[agreeewrites]

A Madness Most Discreet | G.W.

feat. George Weasley x Malfoy!reader

summary: Draco's older sister arrives at Hogwarts for her final year of schooling, and sets her sights on a certain red-headed trickster.

cw: MDNI 18+, pov switching, making out and adult language, light angst (we're just getting started baby), pining, Malfoy family drama and blood prejudice, confident!reader

series navigation | part two | part three | part four | masterlist

divider by @roseraris

Readers POV

No one knew what to expect when the Daily Prophet reported that you, the eldest child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, would be attending Hogwarts for your final year of schooling.

You'd been homeschooled your entire life due to your father's protective nature, but with Draco being 16, he felt you'd have adequate enough protection. Not to mention, he had more pressing matters to attend to than your schooling.

You were beside yourself with excitement. Finally, you'd see the outside of the walls of Malfoy Manor. Finally, you'd get to be around people that weren't Death Eaters twice your age, or your little brother. You loved Draco, but come on. A girl's gotta eat.

Draco and Professor McGonagall led you through the ancient corridors to the Great Hall, every portraits eye trained on you. The newcomer, the subject of many whispered conversations that passed by them less than an hour prior. It seemed even the castle itself was buzzing about your arrival.

You wanted desperately to ride the train with Draco, but your father insisted you be transported separately to minimize the scene you’re appearance would cause.

But you were not one for subtlety.

“I’m begging you to not make a scene,” Draco hissed in your ear, his Slytherin robes brushing your calves. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point your little brother grew like a weed and now stood a head taller than you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, D.” You looped your arm through his, leaning your head on his shoulder. You were lying through your teeth, and he knew it.

“Seriously, y/n. There’s enough attention on us already.”

“Salazar’s tits, Draco! Would you relax? Everything will be fine.” The three of you reached the door to the Great Hall, closed firmly and unbelievably high.You swore you heard McGonagall curse under her breath, and Draco’s arm tightened around yours.

It seemed a scene would be made after all, and you fought the smile threatening to curve your lips.

“Ready, Malfoys?” McGonagall asked, turning to look over you both. The look in her eyes, almost pitying, made you hold Draco's arm a bit tighter, smile faltering.

What are they so worried about?

“As we’ll ever be,” Draco sighed.

McGonagall pushed open the doors, revealing the massive dining hall. Every table was filled with students, piles and piles of food over every surface, and more travelling on levitating trays around the room. Candles floated from the ceiling, the night sky clear and shining with stars.

Every head swiveled towards you, and you watched Draco’s demeanor change instantly. Suddenly, he was no longer Draco, but Lucius, and your stomach curdled, souring your excitement over a grand entrance.

Draco pulled you even closer to his side, casting a warning sneer to every eye that lingered too long while you walked towards Albus Dumbledore on the dais.

Your eyes ping-ponged from student to student, taking in the people you’d spend the next eight months with. You fought to keep your face neutral, an elegant mask of in difference like you'd been taught, but your heart pounded with excitement in your chest.

What a thrill to finally be seen.

The Gryffindor table was on your right, the maroon-clad students sizing you up with open disdain, but even that couldn't dampen the thrill tingling under your skin.

You spotted Harry Potter towards the center of the impossibly long table, flanked by some red-headed boy, Weasley, you surmised, and the girl you immediately recognized as Granger. Or so Draco called her, faux venom on his tongue.

His eyes flicked to her as well, and you suppressed the snicker that bubbled on your tongue. Despite your sheltered upbringing, you knew infatuation when you saw it.

You looked back towards the group, all of their eyes trained on you. But, your gaze snagged on one of them in particular, skipping over his twin beside him. His eyes were different, molten amber and sweet like honey, his hair like phoenix feathers, lips slightly parted like he was staring at a Great Wonder, but instead he was staring at you. Your heart gave an excited flutter.

Oh, there you are, a voice in the back of your mind whispered.

George's POV

Of course, George had heard that the eldest Malfoy was joining their class. Everyone had heard about your arrival. And Lucius made a point of telling Arthur shortly after the decision was made, something about ‘Keep those trouble-making twins away from my daughter.’

But, when the doors opened to the Great Hall and you entered on Draco’s arm, George had been stunned silent anyways.

You were beautiful, unfairly so. Which of course you were, you’re a Malfoy for Merlin’s sake. And George found that he couldn’t look away.

As you walked towards Professor Dumbledore, you scanned the tables, a curious glint in your gaze betraying your disinterested expression. George watched your eyes skip over Dean, then Seamus, then Hermoine, Harry, Ron—until your eyes locked on his. The air was sucked from the room, his heart hammering like a cornered hare as your gaze inexplicably held his.

Even as you continued to walk by, your eyes remained locked together, your head turning just slightly. A smirk sharpened your angelic face, and George’s jaw went slack. But then Draco gave you a nudge and you turned forward, a slight skip in your step.

“—pretty fit, eh?” Fred muttered in his ear. “Oi, look at ‘im,” Fred snickered. “George? Geooooorgie?”

Ron snapped his fingers in front of his face and George jolted back to reality. “Merlin, mate. Earth to George.”

“Sorry, what’d ya’ say?” George asked, looking around at his friends. They all stared at him with a mix of amusement and abject horror.

“Said she’s pretty fit,” Fred chuckled, bumping his shoulder.

“She’s a Malfoy,” Hermoine scolded.

“Yeah, so by definition, she’s hot,” Seamus replied.

“Exactly—”

George tuned them out as you were lead up to the stage, the Sorting Hat waiting on a stool to your right. Dumbledore was speaking, but George tuned him out as well, too fixated on the arrogant slant of your smile, the mischief shining from your eyes.

You had trouble written all over you.

McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat, placing it on your head, and it looked like you were speaking to it. He swore he saw you say 'Gryffindor'. Were you asking to hat to put in a house other than Slytherin?

From the agonized look on Draco's face, it seemed like maybe you were. What Malfoy didn't want to be in Slytherin?

“What is she saying to it?” Harry asked, leaning forward.

Finally, the hat gave a great laugh, rendering the hall silent. “What a mind you have, girl. Clever, cunning, mischievous—a troublesome combination indeed. Seems even a Malfoy can be more than they appear. But even still—” The room held it’s breath, and Draco looked like he might keel over from stress, even paler than usual. You crossed your fingers, eyes screwed shut like you were praying. “Slytherin!” The hat cried, and Draco exhaled, shaking his head at the dramatic pout on your face.

Saints, that pout. George wanted to sink his teeth into it.

“You think she’s going to be as bad as him?” Ginny asked, watching as Draco escorted you down the stairs and over to the roaring Slytherin table. People were throwing themselves out of their seats to make room for you, and you basked in the attention like a benevolent queen returned to her kingdom.

“Worse, probably,” George muttered, forcing himself to look away from you and back to his dinner. Suddenly, he found himself without an appetite.

Reader's POV

Your first three weeks at Hogwarts had been a whirlwind of introductions, lectures, and parties. The world was at your feet, the lower classman wanted to be you, your classmates wanted to fuck you, and everyone else was terrified of you. You never had to wait for a drink, or a meal, and someone was always willing to do your assignments for you, not that you needed it.

It seemed your education under your father far surpassed that of your peers, in certain subjects at least. You could out cast them all with ease, and were looking forward to when dueling would begin.

And, you seemed to see your tall, red-headed boy everywhere you went. You'd learned that his name was George, a Weasley, Draco had sneered when he caught you ogling his tall, lean frame by the lake one afternoon.

You knew how your family felt about families like the Weasley's, but despite your father's best efforts, you couldn't bring yourself to hate someone for something as trivial as what ran through their veins.

An opportunity to speak to George hadn't presented itself until you'd escaped to the library one evening. The attention you initially craved was starting to border on suffocating, and you wanted a few hours of quiet to yourself.

It was a lesson your mother had taught you. You can withstand anything so long as you hold onto yourself.

But when you entered the library and started pursuing the stacks for the Potions section, you found none other than George Weasley stretched out in a window seat, a book in his lap, his head lolled against the window as he snored.

You tiptoed closer, taking in the state of him. He was dressed in trousers and a white button down, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his tie a little loose around his throat. His hair was messy, like he'd been running his fingers through it, and his socks were mismatched argyle.

You knew you shouldn't, but you found him extremely endearing, so soft-looking and cozy. Your fingers itched to straighten his tie, smooth his flaming hair.

Instead you lifted the book from his lap and read the cover. “Pyromancy and Magical Combustion: A Spellcaster’s Guide”

George stirred suddenly, his hands flexing around empty air.

You considered backing off and leaving him to rest, but where the fun in that?

“George,” you purred, but he didn't respond. “Geoooorge,” you tried again, poking him in the sternum. He turned his head, freckled nose scrunching. “George, darling. It's time to wake up.” You walked your fingers up his chest and tugged lightly on his red and gold tie.

“Hm?” He mumbled, brown lashes fluttering open to reveal his sleep-trodden, amber eyes. They locked on your face, widening for a second before he jolted upright. “Y/n? Merlin, where the fuck—”

“It’s alright, love,” you shushed him, using deft fingers to straighten his tie and fix his collar. “You're in the library, sleeping like an angel. Lucky it was me that found you and not Pince.” You glanced up at him, finding his jaw a little slack, his eyes round as he stared at you in shock.

You always were a little too bold for your own good. Reckless in the pursuit of what you wanted.

“I, uh, yeah. Lucky me.” He swiped a hand through his hair. “Sleeping like an angel, hm?” He asked, regaining some of that cheeky charm you’d witnessed from afar over the last few weeks. A trait that only piqued your interest further.

“You looked awfully sweet to me,” you said, batting your lashes.

“Said the rattlesnake to the kitten,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Rattlesnake?” You scoffed, feigning hurt with a hand over your heart. “I don't bite!”

“I don't believe that for a second, Malfoy.” His eyes skimmed over your face, down to your lips.

You flashed said fangs, and he smiled back.

“Why are you in the library?” He asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Alone? I haven't seen you without Draco or one of his goons since you arrived.”

You rolled your eyes. Draco had assigned Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini to watch over you when he couldn't, and it took a concerted effort to evade them and come here. “Was getting a little tired of the entourage,” you admitted.

“A Malfoy? Tired of attention?” He tapped a finger on your forehead, featherlight. “I think you might be broken.”

“You're one to talk, Mr. Weasley. Where’s your twin? Recently severed, are we?”

He chuckled, the sound low and honey sweet. “Hufflepuff party.”

“And you didn't go, because…? You love pyromancy so much?” You held up the book, teasing him.

“Wasn't in the mood to socialize,” he said, shrugging a shoulder.

“Well, George, it seems we may have more in common than we realized.”

His eyes warmed. “Seems so.”

“Could you help me find the Potions section?” You asked, cocking a thumb over your shoulder. “Draco never gave me a tour…”

George popped up, revealing his full height and sending you back a step, and your mouth filled with a saliva. The top of your head barely skimmed his collar bone, his limbs long and lean.

He offered you his elbow. “Right this way, Ms. Malfoy.”

You rested your hand on his bicep, the burgeoning heat between you flaring brightly at even the smallest contact, and he lead you through the stacks.

He was warm and steady beside you, his cologne fresh and clean smelling, his muscles flexing slightly as he steered you. Butterflies stirred in your stomach, pleased that your instinct when you spotted him had been correct.

He was a delight. Handsome, sweet, clever. A loyal Gryffindor, the opposite of all the other pricks that threw themselves at you.

When you arrived at the clearly labeled Potions section, you turned to face him. “You’re in my Potions class, right? Are you any good?” You asked, wanting to delay his departure.

“Pretty good, yeah. Why? Need a tutor?” He quirked an eyebrow, his voice coming out a little too fast to be ready as anything but eager.

“If you've got the time.” You shrugged. “I wouldn't want to keep you.”

“Nonsense. I'm happy to be of service,” he said, winking at you, sending a fizz of desire pulsing through your blood.

George gathered the books you needed and led you to a secluded table at the back of the library, recognizing the risk of anyone seeing the two of you together, even doing something as simple as studying.

“So, what's the trouble with Potions?” He asked once you were settled in, books splayed around the table.

“My father didn't see the value in it, and it's not like we have a laboratory in the Manor,” you said, dipping your quill in your ink.

“So you were homeschooled your entire life?” George folded his arms against the table, leaning a bit closer. “Why?”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “My father had his reasons.” It was a practiced answer, a safe one, and it tasted bitter on your tongue. “He thought it wasn't safe,” you added, wanting to assuage the guilty feeling.

“Not safe?” George scoffed. “Hogwarts is the safest place in the world.

“Depends on who your enemies are,” you said, finally meeting his eyes.

“And who are you enemies?” He asked, sitting back on his chair.

You brushed the soft tail of your quill over you lips, mulling over your response. “Well, George. I suppose you are.”

“That's a shame, here I thought I was just your Potions tutor.”

You snorted, caught off guard by his joking. “Should be fine, as long as we aren't friends,” you chuckled.

“Definitely not friends.” He smiled. “Now, the thing about Beezors…”

George's POV

George watched you pour over your notes, brow furrowed slightly in concentration, and you did that god-forsaken fucking thing with your quill again.

Dragged the feather over your lips with the barest touch, the movement unconscious, and it made his heart seize every single fucking time.

He could hardly believe he was sitting across from you, walking through the curriculum you needed for the first Potions exam in two weeks. You'd missed a lot being homeschooled, but we're clearly incredibly bright, and you picked everything up with ease that rivaled Hermione.

He'd been fascinated by you from the moment you walked into the Great Hall, and managed to snag his eye every time you entered a room there after. You occupied his mind too, so much so he was already behind in Charms, but he wasn't even quite ready to admit that to himself yet.

You were a Malfoy, after all. It didn't matter that you were interesting, or clever, or beautiful. You were a Malfoy. End of story.

He should get up and walk away right now.

What right did you have asking him for help? You had everything. And you were smart enough to do this on your own. You didn't need him. And he shouldn't want you.

Oh, Merlin. And he didn't want you….right?

He couldn't. He barely knew you beyond your reputation and the whispers he'd gathered in the halls, but it felt like he did. Like he's known you for ages, the quiet between you comfortable despite his racing thoughts.

But no, surely not. He didn't want you. Nope.

You dragged you quill against your lips again, sighing softly, and he nearly melted to the floor like a lit candle.

Fuck. He wanted you.

“George?” You called, waving a hand in front of his face, and he jolted back to the present. “Dozing off again?” You teased, voice sweet as treacle.

“No, was just, ah, trying to remember what we covered fourth year,” he said, rubbing the back of his head and hoping you didn't catch the flush in his cheeks.

But based on the twinkle in your eye, you certainly did.

“Maybe we can cover it tomorrow?” You asked, closing your book and setting down your quill. “I'm not sure I can absorb anything else tonight—” a soft yawn punctuated your words, sweet as a lamb, and George had to look away so he didn't memorize the exact shade of your tongue.

Definitely don't meet up with her tomorrow. “Yeah, same spot?” He asked, gathering his things as well.

“It's a date.” You winked, and flitted between the stacks, disappearing from his sight.

George slumped back onto his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face.

When he showed up ten minutes early to the library the following day, he'd never felt more pathetic in his life.

All day, he told himself he wasn't going to go. That he was going to leave you hanging and end this before it got started. Whatever this was.

He was betraying his family by sitting in this chair, guilt churning and acrid in his gut. They would be so disappointed him. He could already hear his mother in his mind: you're a spineless fool.

And it was the truth. He'd lied to Fred and Ron about what he was doing, and snuck past Hermione and Harry who were studying by the entrance. He was lying to and hiding from the people he loved most, all for a Malfoy.

He was about to get up from his seat when you came breezing around the corner, a cauldron in your arms. He continued to rise but instead of fleeing, he took the cauldron from you with a chastising tsk.

“Stealing from Snape, are we, rattlesnake?” He set the cauldron on the table, turning back to you.

“I didn't steal it!” You argued.

He raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

“I'm going to bring it back later.” You rolled your eyes and dumped your bag onto the table, potions and herbs rolling out. “How else am I supposed to learn about potions?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Merlin, you were adorable. Pink cheeked from carrying everything, your hair windswept, eyes shining with that rebellious light. He was helpless, drawn to it like a moth.

“Just don't blow my eyebrows off,” he grumbled.

“No promises,” you teased back.

The two of you toiled the rest of the evening away over the cauldron, successfully making two of the four potions Snape had covered this semester.

You stood shoulder to shoulder over the bubbling green liquid, and he glanced down at you, at the victorious little grin on your face, and he felt his insides twist.

He reached to grab a bundle of herbs on your right, and you turned to grab an ingredient on his left, and your bodies bumped together in the middle, faces nearly colliding.

“S-shit, sorry,” he said, pretending he couldn't smell the expensive perfume on your skin. Like it wasn't rotting his brain from the inside out.

“Sorry for what?” You asked, leaning the rest of the way to get your ingredient, apparently completely unbothered by your chest pressed up against his, your face brushing his shoulder.

“Uh, I—”

“So tense, Georgie,” you murmured, reaching a hand up to squeeze at his flexed bicep. “I don't bite, remember?”

Every scrap of attention zeroed in on your hand touching his arm, his heart thundering in his chest. Georgie. The nickname rattled around in his empty mind. Georgie. Georgie. Georgie.

“I'll try,” he rasped, clearing his throat.

An hour later and you finished the third Potion, the sun long ago set over the horizon. It wouldn't be long before Pince came looking for stragglers, and you'd be booted from the library.

George glanced over at you, your cheek propped against your palm, lashes fluttering as your lids slid closed. Something warm bloomed in his chest watching you doze, peaceful and untroubled, trusting him enough to let your guard down so completely.

As quietly as he could, he picked up his things and yours, and discarded the potion. Carefully, he tucked the cauldron behind one of the the shelves for your next study session so you wouldn't have to lug it back and forth, vowing to take the fall if Snape caught on.

“Rattlesnake,” he cooed, nudging your shoulder. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

You groaned, nose wrinkling before you blinked open your eyes at him. A sleepy smile stretched across your face, and his knees turned to jelly. He wanted to kiss you so badly it stole his breath.

“Sorry, Georgie,” you mumbled, covering your mouth when you yawned.

“All good, love,” he replied, handing you your things. Shit, he cursed himself. Love had just rolled off his tongue, easy as breathing.

But you only smiled at him, slinging your bag over your shoulder and getting to your feet. “Thanks for your help,” you said. “Do you think you'll have time to meet next week?”

Quidditch matches started next week, eating into the little bit of free time he had. But he'd figure it out.

“Could probably meet Monday after practice, if you'd like,” he said, shouldering his own bag.

“Monday would be great.” You rose up onto your toes to peck his cheek. “See you then!” You tossed over your shoulder as you walked away, leaving him a flustered mess.

He rubbed his hand over his cheek, the place your lips brushed his skin still tingling, and sighed. How could he stay away from you? Why should he? Because of your last name?

It was the Malfoy’s job to be stuck up and judgemental, not his. And you seemed to be nothing like them…

Then, something occured to him. A thought so upsetting it punched the air out of his chest and he dropped back down onto his chair.

What if this was a trick?

What if this was a way for the Malfoy's to get close to his family? To get them to let their guards down? What if you were just a beautiful Trojan Horse?

He shook his head, trying to shake the dark thoughts loose. You couldn't be, not with those bright eyes and rebellious smile. He couldn't imagine you being so cruel. But then again…you were a Malfoy.

How could he know for sure?

He left the library with his head hung low, doubts swirling in his mind like a storm, making his stomach churn, but one stood clearer than the rest. Disruptive as a strike of lightning.

Was it worth the risk?

Reader's POV

Your connection with George deepened over those few study sessions, and it seemed he was just as into you as you were him. From the knocked together knees, to his fingers brushing against yours when he passed over an ingredient or book, to his eyes lingering on you over the cauldron, the signs were plentiful.

But Monday night, he'd been different.

He was acting strange the entire study session, watching you closely, giving clipped, one or two word answers. His shoulders seemed almost heavy, burdened.

At first, you chalked it up to him being tired after practice, but instinctively, you knew it had something to do with you.

Unable to bear it any longer, you turned to him after shelving your books. “Is something wrong, George?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

He froze in place, refusing to meet your eyes. Then, something seemed to give way in his expression, a loaded sigh loosing from his chest. “I'm not sure we should keep doing this,” he admitted, sounding almost pained. “Your family would have a conniption, as would mine.”

You let your arms fall to your sides. It was only a matter of time before this came up, you supposed. But, you were prepared for it. “And?” You asked, risking a step closer. “I'm not sure about you…” you placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart race, his muscles tense under your touch. But he didn't pull away. “But I make my own decisions.”

He placed his hand over yours. “You could have anyone you want. So, why me? What's in it for you?”

You recoiled slightly, removing your hand from him and taking a step back. “You think I have some ulterior motive.” It wasn't a question, nor was it a shock. Everyone always assumed you did everything with malicious intent. You just thought maybe George saw you differently.

George's eyes softened, sensing your hurt, but he didn't back away from his claim. “I think your father has it out for my little brother and his best friends, and I won't put them in danger just because I want to kiss a girl.”

Your heart gave a jilted pang, confusion making your brows furrow. You knew he was being completely honest. He wanted to kiss you, but he was afraid of what the consequences might be. Consequences you hadn't even really considered.

George had every reason to be skeptical of you. But your only ulterior motive was getting closer to him, and maybe getting under your father's skin a little should he ever find out.

“I don't have an ulterior motive, George. Nor do I take orders from anyone, least of all my father. I have no ill will towards your family, and I'm sorry that mine has treated you all so poorly.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Swear it,” he said, holding up his pinky.

You wrapped your pinky around his. “I swear.”

His eyes searched your face and you saw the moment he decided he trusted you, eyes melting like honey. "I trust you, rattlesnake." A smirk broke through his serious expression. “Am I going to regret it?”

Relief ballooned in your chest. “In the best way,” you purred, bringing his pinky up your lips and brushing a kiss across his knuckle.

His pupils dilated, breath hitching in his chest. Then you were moving, his body pressing you backwards against the bookshelf, dropping your pinky to brace your hips with both hands.

“You're awfully confident,” he whispered in your ear, making your stomach flutter with anticipation.

You hadn't felt this excited in far too long, his touch, his voice as tempting as the finest wine.

“Are you going to find out why? Or keep prattling on?”

With a final exhale, he crashed his mouth to yours, his lips supple and insistent, your toes instantly curling in your shoes. You opened up for him and he licked into your mouth with firm strokes, deliberate and claiming. He tasted like lemon drops and black tea, and you were desperate for more of it.

Every other kiss you'd had felt lifeless and disappointing, empty and wet in the worst way. But this, the fervid caress of his searching tongue, felt like wildfire: burning, consuming, ravenous.

“George,” you gasped when his lips traveled down your neck, the tip of his nose a cold contrast to the heat of his mouth.

He nipped at your pulse, sucking the skin between his teeth to leave a mark.

“George!” You giggled, pulling on his hair to stop him.

“Y/n,” he hummed, smiling at you. His lips were puffy and slicked with spit, his eyes sparkling.

Two could play at that game.

You leaned forward, licking a long stripe from the hollow of his throat, over his Adams apple, to the underside of his chin.

“Shit.” His hands tightened on your waist, his head falling back to give you more access. You bit down, laving your tongue over his fevered skin, and his let out a low groan. “You little liar,” he gruffed, one of his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. “You do bite.”

You giggled, lapping at the light purple mark you left behind. “I'm not sorry.”

He tipped your head back and reconnected your lips, teasing and light. “You have no reason to be. Bite me all you like, rattlesnake,” he murmured between unhurried pecks.

“Careful what you ask for.” You caught his lower lip between your teeth and tugged gently, earning another groan, before kissing him a final time, soft and lingering.

Hearing the distant chime of the bell tower, you finally broke apart. Curfew. Pince would be around any second.

You brushed your nose against his. “I have to get back to the common room,” you sighed.

“’Course. Wouldn't dream of keeping you from your beauty sleep.” He brought your knuckles to his lips, kissing them lightly. “See you at the match tomorrow?”

You nodded, pulling your still tingling lower lip between your teeth. “Absolutely. I’ll be in green.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, pretending to wince. “I'll have you in red soon enough.” He released your hand and walked backwards out of the aisle, his eyes trained on you until he was forced to turn the corner, his hand sticking out to wave a final goodbye as he disappeared.

You placed a hand over your thundering heart, a little stunned by your bodies intense reaction him.

What in Salazar's name has you gotten yourself into?

George's POV

George left the library achingly hard and shook to his core, the blood that hadn't traveled south roaring in his ears.

That was the singularly most earth-shattering kiss of his life. And it was with the absolute last person he should be kissing.

George wasn't the type to get physical so quickly after meeting someone, but you were irresistible. And seemed to want him as badly as he wanted you, a fact he struggled to get his head around.

And even though he knew he should, he couldn't bring himself to regret a second of it. In fact, he was already anxiously awaiting the match tomorrow, debating whether or not he could squeeze in some extra practice at dawn while he walked back to his dorm.

As soon as he opened the door, he found his brother, Ron, Harry, Seamus, and Neville sitting up in their beds, and stopped short.

“Hey George!” Harry called, waving.

“What’s the matter with you?” Fred asked, clocking his trepidation immediately.

George had to fight to urge to clap a hand over the mark you’d left on his neck. Would they smell your perfume on his skin?

“Nothing? Why?” He asked, heading towards his trunk.

Fred eyed him suspiciously. “Where have you been?”

“Library,” George answered, a little too quick.

Fred studied him a moment longer, then snapped his fingers, a huge grin on his face. “You were with a girl!”

The rest of the boys oooooh’d, and George felt his cheeks heat.

“Yeah, right. You know me, drowning in babes,” he argued, throwing a towel and his pajamas over his shoulder. “I'm going to take a shower.”

“Ah, so just a snog, then?” Seamus teased.

George flipped them off and left for the showers, praying they forget about it by the time he got back.

Reader's POV

“Where the fuck have you been?” Draco snapped, rounding on you as soon as you stepped back into the Slytherin common room.

“Places,” you reply, kissing his cheek before strolling by.

He caught your wrist, tugging you back to him. “Y/n…”

“Draco…” You rolled your eyes. “I was in the library, relax.” You pull away from him and walk towards the girls dormitory, Draco on your heels.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time there,” he accused, an edge of suspicion in his voice. “I would have gone with you, or Blaise or Pansy—”

“I wanted to go alone,” you snapped, stopping so suddenly he bumped into you. A hush fell over the common room. “I don't need a fucking body guard, Draco. You need to back off.”

Draco's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing. “Stop it,” he hissed. “We can talk about this in private.”

“Why? Is your ‘bad guy' reputation so fragile?”

His jaw flexed, and you could tell your words stung, hurt flickering across his eyes.

You sighed. “D, I can take care of myself,” you murmured.

“But if something happened to you…” his voice softened, trailing off.

“Let me have this,” you asked, taking his hand in both of yours. “Please. I've never had any freedom.”

He squeezed your hands. “I know, I know. Just…let me know where you are, at least? Don't just keep disappearing—what is that?” His eyes hardened, lowering to your neck.

You fought to hold your composure. “What? Oh, the burn? I bumped it with my curling iron this afternoon.” You grazed your fingers over the mark George had left, a flurry of butterflies kicking up in your stomach.

Draco dropped your hand, and guilt soured your fuzzy feelings.

“Who is it?” He growled.

“Draco—”

“You think I can't tell when you're lying?” He grabbed you and lead you into a quieter part of the common room, shadowed from onlookers. “Who was it, y/n?”

You glared daggers at him, squaring your shoulders. “I suggest you mind your own business, or we will have a fucking problem. I will not hesitate to dismantle every brick of this bullshit castle you've built. Clear?”

His jaw ticked, eyes blazing. “This is not a fucking game,” he said after a tense moment of silence.

“Just trust me, okay? I’m fine. We’re fine. Not everything is life and death.”

“Y/n, you aren't listening—”

“No, you aren't listening. We're safe here. And I have my brother to protect me from anything scary, yeah?” You reached up to pinch his cheek, and he scowled, swatting your hand away.

“I can't protect you if I don't know where you are,” he argued.

You sighed. “I'll try and tell you from now on, okay? But you can't be with me 24/7. You need to have a little faith in me.”

“It's not you that I doubt,” he grumbled, but you could tell that you'd won this round.

“Goodnight, Draco. And don't stay up too late, you've got a game tomorrow.” You poked him hard in the chest, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, sister.” He waved you off and you ascended the stairs to the girls dorm, leaving him to his friends, and you to toss and turn in your bed, dreaming of George.

Thank you for reading!

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© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[writingouthere]

friendswithbenefits!Sukuna x reader

You go on a date with Yuuji's colleague from work and he's nice but you can't stop thinking of Sukuna, your 'friend' with benefits who has made it clear to you that the two of you are not in a relationship.

cw: possessive behavior, smut

"So then the kid and his friends tried to say that there must just be a fire somewhere."

You snort. "And what the fire just happened to smell like weed?"

You both laugh and you take another sip of your drink. It's a little milder than you usually like, but it's growing on you, kind of like your date.

His name is Yuuta and he's a teacher at the same school as Yuuji. He's cute, not much older than you and he's been polite to every member of staff you've encountered at this restaurant tonight. He teaches history to some of the older grades and it's clear he's passionate about what he does. He's spent the past half hour telling you funny stories about the kids he teaches and stories about his co-workers that have you almost choking on your drink. You've heard about a lot of the same staff members from Yuuji so they feel familiar, like you know them, even the ones you haven't actually met yet.

"Sorry, I think I've been going on for a while. I tend to ramble when I get nervous." He scratches the back of his head, the gesture self deprecating, but so charming, and you hate the guilt you feel at being charmed by it.

"I like your rambling, it's cute," you tell him and you find yourself fond of the way he blushes in response.

It's been a long time since you went on on a real date and you've missed the ritual of it. The typical questions and nerves are as banal as ever, but there were the good parts too.

The excitement of getting to know a new person, the way that over the course of the night you imagine how your life may fit with theirs. Which friends could you see them getting along with? Did he keep his apartment clean? How would he kiss you at the end of the night.

A look at his mouth had you thinking he had to be a great kisser.

"What about you? Any crazy co-workers?"

The rest of the night goes smoothly. The food is good, the drinks were lovely, he cuts himself off after his second.

Responsible. Kind. Funny.

He was everything you were looking for and yet.

And yet.

Sometimes when he laughs, you think about another man's laugh. One that's less kind, louder, and so expressive it takes over his whole face when he lets it out.

When Yuuta helps you with your coat, you can't help but imagine his face twisting up in derision at the sight.

What? Forget how to use your arms, princess?

Yuuta and you are talking about a movie you'd both seen recently and liked, and he's so perfect. But he's not yours.

"I had a great time, tonight." You both are taking the same subway home, but your stop comes up first. Your train car is empty and when Yuuta leans in to kiss you, you let him.

It's chaste, sweet and not what you're looking for tonight. The knowing smile he wears when he pulls away tells you he knows it too.

"I had a great time too, text me when you get home?" Your rejection, even an unsaid one, does nothing to change his temper towards you. It's almost a shame, you'd kind of like to see what he could be like with a little more of a spark to him.

"I will!"

You wave and step off the platform and walk home to your apartment. He'd sent you a text checking in earlier but you hadn't answered yet He hadn't sent a follow up, probably distracted. He'd gone out with Megumi and some guys from gym he trained at. He was probably well on his way to being throroughly trashed.

You turn your key in the lock and open the door to your apartment. It's dark and cold. You don't really want to spend the rest of your night alone with your thoughts. You shut the door, lock it and take out your phone. You think about sending a text to Yuuji to see where he is but then change your mind. You don't necessarily feel like sitting a sports bar on a Friday night listening to a bunch of gymbros talk about macros or their upper body circuit.

You could try texting one of your girlfriends, but then you'd have to actually have a meaningful conversation and your brain was one sharp tug away from unraveling.

You bite your lip. There was someone you'd like to see.

"This is a bad idea." You look down at your shoes. "Such a bad idea."

You find yourself outside of bad idea's apartment and your hand is knocking before you can second guess yourself.

The door swings open with your fist still poised to knock again.

"So the date didn't go too well then?"

You bring your arm down, fist still clenched. You had to at least give it to Sukuna, he was fucking consistent. He leaned against the doorway, looking comfortable with how the position allowed him to leer over you and with his choice of casual attire.

He was wearing an old tank top and sweats that looked like they were one wash away from just disintegrating. They did nothing to hide anything and you hated how you couldn't stop your gaze from going down.

"It was a nice date, actually." He hummed and looked over his nails, as if checking his cuticles.

"There's that word again." Sukuna still wasn't looking at you but his smugness filled the air like a pipe had burst that housed particularly toxic fumes. "If he was so nice," the sound came out like a hiss, "then why are you here?"

You didn't answer and when it was clear you weren't going to, Sukuna finally looked up at you.

"I'll tell you why you're here, you know, if you're curious." He stood up to his full height and grabbed your arm, pulling you close to him. When you were right next to each other, he grabbed your chin, pulling you up as he bent down so you were face to face.

His breath smelled like the ginger tea he always had before bed. It was spicy, familiar, it made your hands clench with the urge to hold him.

"You're here because that nice boy wasn't going to fuck you right and that's what you want isn't it," his hand cupped your face, his breath warm on your cheek as he cursed in your ear, "to get fucked?"

You couldn't help yourself from shivering and you nodded as he began to press kisses down your neck. Pulling down the neckline of your dress, probably stretching it, ruining it, and you don't even care, you just want his hands on you.

"Use your words, baby. Tell me is that why you came here? You needed to get fucked right and you knew that I was the only one who could do that for you, isn't that right?" He ends his words with a bite to your collarbone that stops your legs from working right.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your hands going into his soft hair that you know he uses conditioner on and you hate how just the smell of him sends a pulse to your core. That the familiarness of him is just as sexy as his words.

Something about the feel of him in your hands, his words in your ears, his teeth against your neck, it's the same dance you two have done dozens of times and it just keeps getting better. How are you supposed to be satisfied with someone else and when no one else has ever touched you like this, like they know every place that makes you weak, like they were put on this earth just to unmake you?

"Tell me," his words are more urgent now but he doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling you into his apartment and pushing you up against the door after he slams it so hard you're worried the hinges may have snapped. "Tell me, tell me princess. Tell me I'm the only one who can get you like this, the only one who can see you like this."

It's too possessive, too overwhelming. If your mind was still in working order, you may point out these are claims too heavy for a casual hookup. That he was not your boyfriend, or your husband, or anything to you and yet you found yourself nodding anyway.

"Just you, just you Sukuna." For a second he almost seems to freeze and you worry that you said something wrong despite him starting this. That worry is ripped from you when he smashes his mouth to yours, the force of it almost painful. It's an abrupt departure from the other kiss you'd gotten tonight and you wonder if the taste of another man on you fuels him as he starts to pull at your clothes.

You're both barely undressed, only removing what needs to be removed to get him inside you, when he presses his cock against your cunt. It's so hot and you'll never get over how good he fills you, how right it feels when he's inside you and Sukuna finally lets go of your mouth when you let out a moan you're sure they can hear in the hallway. You can feel his grin against your throat and you don't even mind as he settles in you, making you almost uncomfortably full.

"S-Sukuna!"

"Yeah, does that feel good? Like how my cock feels in you?" You don't answer him, not really capable of speech. He hums and pulls out of you just enough for you to feel it when he thrusts back in. You've fucked countless times, it's not even your first time fucking against the front door, which should embarrass you a little more, but something feels different.

Something feels different as Sukuna proceeds to fuck you hard, but somehow gentle, the beat between each thrust calculated for you to get overwhelmed by the feel of him to the point of it being too much just for him to pull away from you, but never fully leave you.

The kisses you exchange are sloppy, more a pressing of mouths together than real kissing and yet it's perfect and he's perfect and you could have tried this with the nice young man you'd gone on a date with tonight, who you're currently forgetting the name of, but what was the point? How could you try and find anyone to take Sukuna's place when he had carved it out himself inside you.

After you've both cum and you feel too tired to even attempt to collect your clothing or your dignity so you can leave, Sukuna lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. The routine the two of you had previously established was off and you weren't sure what to do about it. You tried not to think about it as he carried you to the bathroom and cleaned you off or as he pulled an old t-shirt over your head. You tried not to think about it even more when he tucked you into bed.

He slid into the bed behind you and pulled you into his arms and you weren't sure how much more you could take before you could ignore it anymore.

He pressed his lips against the back of your neck, his arms tight around you. "Don't do that again."

"Dm mat?" Your words are muddled by sleepiness and the comforter that smells like him that you've pressed to your face.

"Don't go on dates with other guys."

It's not fair, he couldn't ask that of you and you shouldn't let him.

You grab his hands in yours and thread your fingers through them.

"In the morning."

You'll talk about this in the morning, about how you need boundaries and space and maybe this arrangement needs to end. Sukuna hums and presses closer to you, you can feel his lips in your hair.

The both of you can get on the same page in the morning.

Just a little something. Maybe this is a series now? Does the tense change partway through, yes. Does it change in fact multiple times, yes. Idk.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.1 gojo satoru sent you a message

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 1.3k (short one to start off, but the rest are longer)

a/n. welcome to this pilot chapter! this was originally going to be a one-shot but i got way too carried away and ended up planning out a whole series. i hope you enjoy!

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

|| 2:13AM Gojo Satoru has requested to follow you

You blink the sleepiness in your eyes away as the harsh light of your phone hits your face. Somewhere in the middle of the crazy dream you were having, you heard your phone incessantly pinging and eventually woke you up to make you realize you forgot to turn the ringer off before going to sleep. Among all the spam email, iCloud storage warnings, and news headliners, there was one notification in particular that had you wondering if you were still dreaming.

“Ugh…y/n, please, turn your phone off,” you heard your roommate Mina mumble in the twin sized bed at the other end of the room as she shuffled her pillow above her head so that it covered both of her ears. You glance out the window of your shared apartment, peering at the pale moonlight, before your tired and heavy eyes travel back to your phone and press on the Instagram notification.

Suspecting this was maybe some prank account, you clicked on the small icon in your inbox that took you to a profile page. Gojo Satoru, Senior at University of Tokyo, Business Major, D1 Soccer #10, SAE. 12k followers, 172 following, 38 posts. 

Still thinking you’re dreaming, you accept the follow request and watch as the number on his following increases by one, now 173. Your thumb swipes up on your phone as you take in the square images of his profile. Pictures of him and his friends recreating memes…food that he’s eaten recently…frequent vacation posts in exotic countries…and a whole lot of what seemed to be professionally taken soccer photos of him striking goals and hitting balls with his head in mid air. You have put a lot of effort into your own Instagram photos (despite your modest 464 followers), mostly posting compilation slideshows of your favorite film photos that you’ve taken recently, yet somehow his feed looks much more inviting than yours.

You turn onto your side and continue to look through his photos. 624 comments, 373 comments, 958 comments. Many were from his friends trying to embarrass him, and many others were from girls that probably wanted him to notice them. You noticed he only really replied to comments from his friends. 

You knew who he was, of course. Gojo Satoru was one of the most, if not the most, popular guys on your college campus. When you got to college, you thought the whole “social hierarchy” thing would be over but it still seemed like there were certain groups of people that almost everyone knew about, "elite" individuals who other students could only dream of associating with. At UTokyo, the fraternities and sororities practically owned the place so of course Gojo was well-known since he was a member of the school’s most iconic frat, SAE. Not to mention, the school adored its soccer team–undefeated since 2012–and Gojo Satoru was the most talented center forward the division has seen in years. 

But as for why he requested to follow you, a film major that doesn’t play any sports and isn’t even in a sorority, well you’re just not sure. 

It’s then when you get yet another notification. 

“Oh my god, y/n, turn it off!” Mina mumbles into her mattress. You click the side button to turn off the ringer. 

|| 2:24AM Gojo Satoru sent you a message 

Your heart starts to beat a bit faster as you quickly slide to your DMs page. You notice three unread conversations from a few of your friends, probably from when they decided to send you their entire explore page, and then you see a little (1) next to your message requests box. When you open it, you see his icon in your inbox. It’s a simple picture of him in his soccer jersey, his smile wide as one of his team members who was mostly cropped out of the photo seemed to be putting him in a headlock. You see the first few words of the message.

|| 2:24AM Gojo Satoru: Hey, sorry if this is weir…

You’re about to click on it when you stop yourself. It was really late at night and you didn’t know if you wanted to entertain a conversation with this man you knew literally nothing about (at least on a personal level) and weren’t even sure why he was messaging you in the first place. Plus, he would see that you’ve read it and so you would feel anxious to respond. But there was no way to see his full message unless you opened it. Even though you considered this to be weirdly intimate since it was a message sent at two in the morning, you figured that was probably normal for the likes of people like Gojo Satoru, who probably were out drinking and partying until five in the morning every night, regardless of any 8AM lectures or not. 

But unfortunately, curiosity always kills the cat (that’s the expression, right?) and so you click on his message. 

|| 2:24AM Gojo Satoru: Hey, sorry if this is weird…I don’t think we’ve ever met before, but my buddy’s really into your roommate, and he’s tried to invite her out to our frat’s house parties but he’s had no luck. Think you could convince her to come this weekend? You’re welcome to come too, of course

You blink in surprise before rolling your eyes, not entirely sure why you were expecting any different. Maybe Mina wasn’t budging on his friend’s advances because she wants to be asked out on an actual date, and not to some house party. But you figured frat guys wouldn’t really understand that. Besides, how did he know that you were her roommate? You’re just about to type a response when you see three little dots in the left side corner, indicating he was typing, and you hold your breath.

|| 2:27AM Gojo Satoru: Here are the details

And then he sends you a post from what looks like his fraternity’s Instagram page. There’s an address, a time, the name of the DJ and girls get in free bolded at the top. You realize you’ve never even been invited to a fraternity’s house party until this very moment. 

You briefly consider not responding to him and just setting your phone back down on your nightstand, rolling over, and falling asleep. But you find your fingers moving on their own to type.

|| 2:31AM You: you’re messaging me to help your friend get with my roommate?

There’s an uncomfortable two minutes where there’s no response from him and for some reason your anxiety is through the roof. You remember the countless times you’ve heard people describe Gojo Satoru in passing: there’s just something about him that demands your attention. 

His notification pops up at the top of the Instagram app when you were scrolling through reels to distract yourself and you accidentally clicked on it too fast. 

|| 2:33AM Gojo Satoru: Uh, yeah? 

You sigh as you ponder the proposition. You don’t even know for sure why Mina wasn’t really responding to his friend’s advances, maybe the guy was a creep or just not her type. And even if she was somewhat interested in him, she’s already refused to go to any of their frat’s house parties, so how would you be able to persuade her? 

You finally convince yourself you’ve had enough of Gojo’s messages for the night and you’ll choose whether or not you want to revisit the topic again in the morning, until another message flashes across your screen.

|| 2:38AM Gojo Satoru: What can I do to get you to convince her to come this weekend?

You bite down on your lip at his question, and an idea flashes through your mind.

|| 2:40AM You: i’ll find a way to convince her. my terms and conditions will come later

He responds in a second.

|| 2:40AM Gojo Satoru: Deal 

a/n. dude literally slid into your DMs lol. thank you for reading! i also post this story over on AO3, if you're more into that format, but i just wanted to start posting over here on tumblr too. hope to see you in the next one!

➸ take me to chapter two!

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 29

Dont get him wrong, Danny had some big feelings about finding out his mom had cheated on his dad. He had even bigger feeling about the divorce and the whole shipping him off to live with his bio dad.

He wasn't going to lie. The new school was actually really nice and he had made friends quickly, though at first it was tough to weed out the ones who just wanted to get close to the Wayne family name and not him as a person. He didn't get to chat with Tucker and Sam a whole lot due to thier schedules but he and Jazz always made time for eachother.

His life had surprisingly taken a massive upturn. Vlad had been arrested soon after Danny warned the Waynes about him, making Danny believe either his dad it felt wierd calling him that but da-Jack made it perfectly clear he should never call him that was Batmans sugar daddy or somthing or maybe the Waynes got kidnapped so much that the bats bugged the whole place. Danny hoped not, he had done a whole karaoke thing with Jazz during thier video call the other night and he really didn't want anyone to hear thier shared cat screeching.

Jazz was super happy to learn Danny had joined the Volleyball team and Astronomy club. He used to play Volleyball in middle school and played defense a lot. He was even the best on the team but he stopped playing after one too many times of his parents forgetting to show up or causing a ruckus whenever they thought a ghost was nearby.

But it was better now

The portals were shut down by the bats. The GIW where expertly obliterated from existence. His parents are getting court mandated mental help. There are no more ghosts. No more ghost hunters.

And no need for Phantom

Danny doesn't think he's ever felt this free. He could go out to eat with friends with his way too big allowance that his...dad gives him and he didn't have to worry about having to ditch them to go fight a bad guy. He could eat dinner with a family who was a little awkward but surprisingly open to him and the food was delicious and didn't attack him. He could actually sleep at night and feel safe doing it. His siblings liked spending time with him and getting to learn anout him and thier "bonus sister" Jazz.

He had no reason to use his powers.

Until the grandfather clock he was walking past swung open like a door and he locked eyes with Nightwing coming out of it. They just stared at eachother before Danny just said, "I don't want to know which one your dating. Just know I have a bat and im willing to use it in the most ungodly of ways." And walked back to his room.

He wouldn't be a superhero, but he was willing to be a supervillian to protect his new family. Or in this case make sure Nightwing, a rumored playboy, knew better than to go breaking hearts in this household.

[trippinsorrows]

in your hands + four

authors note: i know. it's been forever and a day. i apologize and hope this massive ass chapter helps to make up for things. definitely a couple (or more) things sprinkled throughout.

you must read/view THIS and THIS set of text visuals, as they include information referred to in this chapter. also, the story kicked off in september. it's now mid-october. so, roman and solana have been dating essentially six weeks.

warnings: fluff, smut, and some angst

words: 14k (she is long)

masterlist

She doesn’t belong here. 

Solana knows it the minute she walks into the club, immediately hit with the uncomfortable aroma of alcohol, weed, and potentially untreated yeast infections. 

An understandable combination, however, for just where she stands. 

Secrets. 

The biggest and most popular strip club in the city. Attended and frequently occupied by everyone from truckers making a stop in town to suits who spend their nights throwing bills at naked women instead of at home with their wives and kids. 

A man’s playpen where any and all desires can be granted.

Solana’s nightmare, but one she must brave.

Swallowing and immediately dropping her gaze when she catches the eye of a patron, she nervously clears her throat and tightens her grip on the backpack she has slung over her shoulder. 

Focused, she reminds herself. Stay focused.

Pushing past the discomfort, she tries her best to focus not on the scantily clad women who walk past her, some holding trays of food and alcohol, others seeking out potential clients.

It feels like significantly longer than what is the actual time she took to reach the counter, but when she does, she finds herself coughing, overwhelmed with the smoke from a man smoking a cigar a few chairs down. 

So much for being smoke-free establishment.

“H–Hi,” she attempts to speak, a difficult task given the loud music. “H–Hello.” Ignored, lost among the loud crowd. Solana once again has to power through her anxiety. “Excuse me!”

An effective alert that earns her a glare from the woman with a Bombshell bra, way too much foundation, and a botched nose job. “What?”

“I–” Solana clears her throat. “I’m here to see about the open position for a bartender?” 

The woman rolls her eyes, turning away to finish mixing a drink. “Go to the back. First room on the left.”

Confused, Solana manages a quiet thank you and maneuvers her way through the crowd. For it to only be 3 in the afternoon, this place sure is busy. 

The directions prove effective, it seems, as Solana lands in front of one of the biggest men she’s ever seen. A bodyguard of some sort standing in front of a door that has MVP on it written in chromatic lettering. 

MVP?

“What do you want?” 

The bodyguard barks, his voice just as rude, if not ruder, than the bartender. 

Solana repeats herself, adjusting the backpack on her shoulder. “I’m–I’m here to see about the bartender position.”

He scoffs, looking her over, stepping back enough to knock on the door. “Boss.”

“What?” A male voice carries from the other side. Solana swallows. He sounds irritated. 

“Some bitch is here about that bartender opening.” 

Being called out of her name by a literal stranger most definitely makes her wince, but she says or does nothing else, recognizing how out of her element she is. 

“She pretty?” 

Solana frowns at the unexpected question from the man still concealed on the other side of the door. 

The bodyguard looks her over once more, his gaze unsettling, pushing her to look away. “Yeah. Lil’ redbone.” 

It takes a lot for Solana to not walk away and call this a bust. That colorism shit has never settled well with her at all, but the depressing reminder that this is literally her last hope, nothing else having panned out in the past few weeks, forces her to bite her tongue. To have to bypass her morals and values. 

She has to. 

“Let her in.” 

Solana jumps when the man opens the door and motions for her to enter. “Go on.” 

Nervously squeezing the strap of her backpack, she walks past him, hating the feel of his gaze on her ass as she does so. He makes a sound followed by the door being slammed shut, causing her to jump. 

“Well, you certainly are pretty.”

Solana looks over to the middle of the dark room with blood red drapings over the closed windows, an expensive looking rug sitting under an even more expensive looking desk. Sexual, graphic artwork hanging behind said desk, serving as a backdrop for the man in question.

This MVP person, she would guess. Most likely the club owner. 

He stands and rounds the desk, Solana taking in his tall, chubby frame. He’s about her complexion, hair cut short, hairline evened off perfectly. His suit is designer, along with the shoes on his feet and probably the watch on his wrist. His eyes are light, but everything about him is just dark. 

It’s hard for her to maintain eye contact. 

Still, she has to do this. 

“H–hi.” She clears her throat. “My name is Solana Miller, and I–I’m here to see about the bartender pos—”

“Did I say you could speak?” His harsh question and vicious glare catches her off-guard. Very much not the reaction she was expecting. “Clearly, you don’t know how the fuck this shit goes—”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” She truly is. “I didn’t mean—”

He scoffs, waving her off dismissively. “Just get outta here, man.”

Solana’s stomach drops. “Wait.” This can’t be happening. “Please. I’m sorry,” she both begs and apologizes. She’ll keep doing so for just a chance. Will get on her hands and knees if she has to. “I really—I really need a new job. I–I need the money.” 

He eyes her, disgust marring his face. “You using?”

“No,” she scoffs, shaking her head. Her eyes start to water. “I just—I’m desperate.” 

Extremely so. She has to be to be standing in a place she could never even ride or drive by with a blush lifting to her cheeks. A place, never in a million years, could she see herself seeking employment. 

But, with literally every other interview or inquiry ending with her being ghosted or a flat out no, and all the other open positions paying even less than what she’s making now, she’s 100% out of options.

Again, desperate. 

He says nothing, continuing to look at her, his gaze shifting from irritated to….something else. Something she can’t name. She just knows that unsettling feeling is returning. “Take off your sweatshirt.”

She freezes. “What?”

He continues talking like he didn’t just make the most outlandish request. “It’s chilly out. You’re bound to have some type of shirt on underneath. Or, a bra. Or, maybe nothing. Don’t really matter.” He shrugs. “Take it off.”

Solana is completely lost at this moment and doesn’t hesitate to express as such. “I don’t—”

“Bartender position was filled this morning.” Her stomach literally fucking drops at his casual announcement of her crushed hopes and dreams. “But, I am down a dancer.”

Her frown deepens. “A dancer?” 

The first word Solana has always used to describe herself. A dancer since she could walk, according to her mother. The biggest thing that’s always brought her the most joy in life, but in this instance, has never made her feel such disgust. 

This is not the kind of dancer she’s ever considered or envisioned herself being. And, it comes not from a place of judgment but from the innocent, naive perspective of the 18 year-old she is who still hasn't even had sex yet but is now being considered, potentially, for the position of an exotic dancer. A position she’s not even legally old enough to hold, regardless of what her fake ID says. 

It’s like MVP is reading her mind, suddenly asking, “how old are you, kid?” 

She hates how she hesitates. “21.”

“Bullshit.” Understandable detection. She’s always been a terrible liar. “But, it’s what your card says, and that’s all I can go off of, right?” He smirks, gaze darkening once more. “I said, take off your sweatshirt.” 

Solana heard him the first time. It was just the shock of it all that had her frozen. She wants to run out. Wants to leave and wipe this horrible memory from her recollection forever, but once again, the realty of her situation weighs on her. 

The reminder of the $18.00 in her bank account that has to somehow hold her over until the end of the week when she gets a paycheck that barely covers some of her mother’s prescriptions. 

Desperate.

It’s why Solana has to bypass the light trembling of her body as she drops her backpack onto the floor and pulls her mom’s old college hoodie over her head, dropping it atop her backpack. 

Naturally, her arms attempt to cover her body. He was right in that she’s wearing a thin undershirt, but it does nothing to hide her big breast and cleavage. 

One nervous look at him, and the wolfish grin on his face turns her stomach. “Well, damn. You a fine lil’ thing, ain’t you?” She says nothing. Has nothing to say. “A lil on the fat side, but that seems to be in these days.”

The jab at her weight doesn’t bother her. She’s heard as such before. Countless times. 

MVP approaches and rounds her, Solana shutting her eyes when he makes a sound while standing behind her. “Shit, you got it in the front and the back.” Standing back in front of her, Solana has to blink away the tears when he gently moves her arms down, forcing her breast to fall, leaving her exposed in front of him. “Hmm.” She could throw up. “Nice.” Solana jumps when he gropes her chest, squeezing her breast. “They real, too, huh?”

She can’t bring herself to say anything. 

Solana gasps and grabs for her sweatshirt, holding it in front of her body the minute he steps back. She’s never felt so disgusted. 

“All the new girls get two weeks to shadow and learn how to work the pole. You ain’t got it after then? You out,” he starts, back toward her as he walks to sit down at his desk. “You’d work nights. At least 4 days out of the week. You get 70% of what you make, I keep the rest.” That slimy gaze travels up and down her body once more. “As I said, big girls are in right now, so, assuming you got what it takes, you’d easily make 10k a night. Take home would be 7k.”

At that, Solana’s eyes widen. 

$7,000 a night? 

“You do what the fuck I say, when I say it, how I say it, and everything will be alright. I get the first and final say. No matter fucking what. Pissing me off won’t end well for you.” She swallows as his tone shifts yet again to something almost menacing before that sly smile returns. “What you say, Red? You in?”

It’s an overwhelmingly heavy, difficult question. Solana came in, ready and willing to learn how to bartend, the advertised base pay plus tips putting her well over what she’s making now. Pennies. She’s making pennies now, and pennies don’t pay the bills. 

Though this….the idea of coming in here, performing and dancing for men, for anyone, in this capacity….it has her fighting back nausea. Again, she would never and has never judged anyone for stripping. She understands everyone has to do what they have to do. She’s just never seen it for herself. 

Never wanted it for herself. 

Too much. It just feels like too much. She’s 18. She doesn’t want to be having to make these kinds of decisions. She wants to be preparing to head off to school in the fall. To spend her last summer before college with friends, having fun, indulging in all of the normal adolescent things. But, then she’s reminded of why she’s having to make this type of decision. 

She thinks about the building stack of bills she’s done her best to keep hidden from her mom, the countless calls she has to dodge from bill collectors. Recalls the emergency account as well her as college fund, both now completely emptied due to insurmountable medical bills. Is hit with the horrific memory of all those nights she’s had to watch her mom coughing up blood, herself and Yolanda stressed and fighting back tears as they try to ration medicine, unable to afford the copay to get her prescription refilled. 

Desperate. 

It’s why Solana has to shove aside her morals, values, and everything else that makes her….her and sign her name on the dotted line. 

A deal with the devil himself. 

“I’m in.” 

—------------

“Ready to go see Roman?”

The small pout on Raya’s face as Solana changes her out of her Doc McStuffins pajamas into her cute little outfit, courtesy of the man in question, is easily shifted into the biggest smile. There’s a bend in her knees followed by his limbs moving happily, as she exclaims with all the excitement, “Roman!”

Solana giggles, watching her baby girl reach for the shirt she seems to have made her new favorite item. 

Roman’s shirt. 

Something she snagged from his place weeks ago and hasn’t let go since. Sleeping with it. Holding it as Solana rocks and holds her. Nearby while she plays. It’s like….like a source of comfort to her. 

Thankful when her baby girl lays on her back, continuing to play with the shirt as Solana pulls on her tights, she finds herself thinking about the man who has her daughter smiling and clapping more than she’s ever seen before with anyone outside of her mom and sister.

Roman

Just thinking of him has Solana struggling with her own smile. 

Unreal.

Something about the man feels unreal. Like, he’s too good to be true. Because, he is. Because Solana can’t seem to wrap her head around the fact that she’s stumbled into what has to be one of the most perfect men to ever walk this earth. Kind, considerate, rich, sexy as fuck with a big ass dick and wicked tongue that he most definitely knows how to use.

She can talk to him, often texting him when she takes her lunch break at work. Calls that often result in her yawning, stubbornly denying her tiredness because she enjoys conversing with him way too much. She can spend time with him. No amount of in-person interaction ever seems enough. He always leaves her wanting more. 

She can fuck him in a way she’s never been intimate with anyone. There’s something exciting, exhilarating, and enthralling about every time he bends her over and makes his way in between her thighs. It’s also the most pleasurable experience that leaves her legs shaking and speech borderline incoherent. 

And, maybe the most important thing. Definitely the most important thing.

Soraya. 

Once. Not once has Roman given even the slightest indication that Raya presents any sort of problem for this dynamic, this relationship they have going. And, Solana would know because she’s been watching and waiting like a hawk. Almost for the other shoe to drop. Because as amazing as Roman is, perfect or not, when it comes to her daughter, Soraya gets picked every single time. 

There’s not a person on this earth that comes before her child. 

And certainly not a man. 

But, none of that has been an issue whatsoever. In fact, it sometimes feels like Roman expects Raya to accompany them anytime they’re together. Like the times where she gets her sister or mom to keep her baby girl so they can have one-on-one time, that there’s a brief hint of disappointment. Like, he was hoping to see her, too. 

Not to mention his financial contributions. 

It seems like Roman is incapable of going into any store that carries baby items and not picking up something for Raya. Whether it be a toy, several toys, really, or an outfit—like the one Solana has her wearing right now—his generosity seems to know no ends. 

Even his expensive ass Range Rover he’s been letting her use while her broken down car remains just as it’s been the last few months—broken down. 

Solana hasn’t been able to drop not even a single penny on anything when Roman is around. The car always seems to have a full tank, even when she makes a mental note to stop at the gas station when clocking out. There’s no need. It’s already filled. 

Not that he would admit to handling as such. 

Or, when they go out to dinner, not very often as they both prefer her and Raya coming over so she can cook dinner for everyone, and the bill is already paid before the food even arrives. 

Not to mention….the other things. 

The white Birkin that was waiting at her door when she got in late one night, a sleeping Raya in one hand, her baby bag and Solana’s TJ Maxx purchased bag on the other shoulder. The Tiffany necklace and bracelet set he had waiting for her when she came over one day, Raya at home with her mom, so they could fuck. 

He’s even dropped a comment or two about her moving into his place. Jokingly, of course.

Right? 

“Roman.”

Soraya repeating the name of the man that seems to have them both enchanted makes all the sense in the world. 

“I know, baby,” Solana murmurs, buckling her shoes before standing her up, holding her while kissing her cheek. Raya hugs Solana, burying her little head against her mama’s chest. Solana sighs, gently rubbing her back. “I wanna see him, too…”

Always. Solana feels like she always wants to see the man, which is a bit of an issue when she also has a shit ton of responsibilities that seem like they only keep piling up. 

Financial responsibilities. 

Shaking those stressful thoughts from her head, Solana gathers up her baby girl, grabbing her already packed diaper bag as well as her purse. She makes sure all the lights are off before heading out the door, locking it. 

The car ride to Roman’s place is pleasant, Solana playing a Disney playlist on low to soothe Raya who looks around the car, like she's looking for the man she repeats at least twice during said car ride.

Roman

It keeps a smile on Solana’s face as well. 

In less than twenty minutes, Solana has pulled up to Roman’s penthouse, something that Raya has clearly learned and memorized, given the wiggling of her little body and increased babbling. 

Raya’s excitement bubbles and topples over the minute Roman opens the door, revealing his big frame dressed in a plain white shirt, khaki shorts and matching Nike’s. His hair is pulled back into that immaculate bun, but it’s that pearly white smile on his face that captures Solana’s attention. 

“Hey, babe,” he greets, pulling her in for a brief kiss. It’s brief because his attention is instantly shifted to a smiling, elated Raya who’s already reaching for him. “There she is…”

Solana easily allows Roman to take both Raya and her diaper bag, leaving her to close the door as he walks further into his penthouse. Solana is right behind him, the three of them landing in Roman’s spacious kitchen. 

Solana can only watch them.

Something warm and comforting fills her heart in seeing the way Raya looks up at Roman, reaching for his face with all the curiosity. Her smile is large and happy, complimented by his own smile that's slightly smaller but still….heartfelt almost. "I think it's safe to say she likes you." 

Solana could argue that Raya more than likes Roman, but that….that feels too much. Too soon. 

Way too soon. 

He chuckles, seemingly uncaring as Raya tries to pull on his beard. “She’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” Solana scoffs, laying her purse next to Raya’s baby bag on the island in his kitchen where Roman had deposited it. “You’ve seen how she is when she’s sleepy but too stubborn to actually go to sleep.” 

Roman makes a sound, continuing to hold Raya as she pulls at his beard. “She’s stubborn. Nothing wrong with that.”

Solana rolls her eyes. “Of course, you would say that. You’re stubborn, too.” Solana goes to reach for Raya’s little jacket out of her diaper bag only to realize it is absolutely not in the diaper bag but laying on the sofa back at her apartment. “Damnit.”

Roman looks over at her, Raya continuing to babble and “talk” to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I left her jacket back at my place,” she shares, blowing out a breath when remembering something. “Wait, I think I have one here with her change of clothes.”

Roman sighs, adjusting Raya from the left to the right. “Should just let me buy her—”

“Not happening, big guy,” Solana shuts that shit down as she moves to head to the back of his place. “I’ll be right back.” He says nothing, continuing to entertain Raya as they walk into the living room where he has a damn near mini play area set up for her. 

Solana hums to herself, walking into the extra bedroom where Roman has talked her into keeping a few extra items for Raya. As well as a couple of things he’s picked up for her. Except, the minute she hits the light switch, Solana is met with more than just a couple of things. 

“What the….” She steps into said room seeing medium to large boxes leaning against the walls. A closer inspection reveals that it’s furniture yet to be put together.

Baby furniture.

A quiet scoff tumbles out of her mouth as she ghosts her hand over the expensive brand he’d purchased. Top of the line. Easily has to be close to a thousand dollars for everything. 

If not more.

Solana can’t grab Raya’s little jean jacket and hit the light switch quick enough. 

Walking back into the living room, she’s momentarily distracted by the sight of Roman on his knees, carefully watching Raya who starts crawling in his direction, only to tire of the slowness as she moves to stand, little legs rushing over to him. 

“Roman!” She shouts happily, eventually reaching and tumbling into him. That small smile stays on his face as he chuckles, holding her, and saying something to her in what Solana would guess is Samoan. Or, maybe Italian. She’s not entirely sure, but it’s definitely not in English. 

Shaking her head, Solana steps into their space, gathering the attention of both. 

“Mama!” Raya shouts, wobbling over to Solana who also moves to her knees, welcoming her baby girl into her arms. 

She kisses the top of Soraya’s head and looks over at Roman. “You mind telling me what all that stuff is that’s in your guest bedroom?”

He shrugs, crossing his big arms over his equally big body. He’s just huge. “I picked up a couple of things for her. I told you that.”

“Roman, buying her darn near a whole furniture set is not a “couple” of things.” Not in the slightest. Clothes, toys definitely, maybe even some dishes but certainly not furniture. 

He continues to remain unbothered, not seeing the issue. “I told you it makes sense for her to have all the stuff she needs here.”

“I get that, Roman, but that….you keep spending all your money—”

“Solana, I could live to be 100, and I’d never spend all my money.”

Given the ease he has with pulling out his card, not needing to use his phone to pull up the banking app and check his balance, Solana wouldn’t deny that. She wouldn’t deny that one bit. 

“But—”

“You’re not gonna win this with me. I hope you know that.” She rolls her eyes, her traitorous little daughter crawling back over to Roman who welcomes her back with open arms as she fists his shirt. “We’re stubborn, remember?”

There’s something about the way he groups himself together with Raya that has Solana’s chest swelling again with that unnamed emotion. Heavy but….nice. In the best sort of way. 

It doesn’t take long for once again traveling to commence, except this time, it’s Roman driving both herself and Raya to his cousin Jimmy’s house. The host of this get-together they're attending. Conversation during the not even twenty minute drive mostly focused on Roman reassuring her that everything’s going to be fine, they’re going to love her and Raya, as well as indiscreet planning for how the night’s going to end. 

Preferably with him deep inside her guts, his face buried between her legs, or her mouth stuffed with his unforgivable dick. 

Any or all of those things would be great. It’s been a bit of a rough week, and nothing helps her more to decompress than by getting her back blown out by the rich, handsome, older man next to her.

It’s 10/10 every single time. 

“Damn,” Solana breathes as Roman parks his car in the cobblestone driveway of what has to be one of the nicest houses she’s ever seen. The type one sees and fawns over on HGTV. The type of luxury most can only dream about having one day. 

And, she’s sitting right in front of it. 

It’s a bit embarrassing for her when she realizes she's gawking at the house. She feels severely underdressed with her Shein purchased outfit, suddenly wishing she'd wore something maybe a bit....nicer.

Overthinking distracts her from getting Raya out of the car, something Roman has already as he stands holding her diaper bag over one arm, Raya in the other. 

Solana climbs out the car, her discomfort clearly plain and visible as Roman reassures her for the eighteenth time. “It’s gonna be fine, Sol.”

Sol.

A nickname used by others. Never feeling as special when it comes from him. 

She can only nod, reaching to take Soraya from him. Partially for her own comfort and ease. 

Focusing on her baby girl will help keep her from focusing on her growing anxiety. 

Roman simply sighs and kisses her temple, hand on the small of her back as he guides her. “Come on.” 

Solana adjusts her purse on her left shoulder while continuing to hold Raya who can only look around with all the amazement, her gaze every so often falling and landing on Roman. 

Meanwhile, Solana tries her best not to faceplant and focus on keeping one foot in front of the other as Roman bypasses the front door, leading them to the side of the house through the partially cracked gate. 

Immediately, she’s slammed with the scent of grilled, fried, and fresh food. Delicious, it smells delicious. Mouth watering, Solana’s stomach grumbling, she takes in the spacious backyard. A large pool with an attached slide and separate hot tub is smack dab in the middle, a patio hosting two grills, furniture, and coolers filled to the brim with soda, alcohol, and water bottles. 

The rest of the yard is beautiful, perfect green grass, kids play things set up in several areas with a host of folding chairs to match the host of attendees that are spread across the party space. Music plays from a booth that indicates a DJ was hired.

Damn.

Solana has attended her fair share of get-togethers, but nothing like this. 

“Naw……cause growth is realizing Ebony ain’t even did nothing wrong?”

“Ain’t did nothing wrong? Man, she fucked her cousin’s man while living in her house! Diamond should have shot her ass in the ass for that shit!”

“Hey!” Solana jumps ever so slightly, thankful for Raya’s simple giggle at the bark from Roman that effectively cuts through the sea of people, snagging countless sets of eyes. “Language.”

Out the corner of her eye, she sees him gesture to Raya who’s suddenly less smiley and has her face buried into Solana’s shoulder, shyness taking over.

Loud gasps and the almost squeal of a woman. “Finally!”

Solana stills a bit when the woman appears in front of her. Several. They all wear friendly expressions while moving in her direction, but that does little to settle the nerves bubbling in the base of her stomach.

It’s Roman’s hand on the small of her back, his fingers gently raking across that calms her just the slightest.

“You must be Solana.” The woman who spoke first greets. Solana has to take a second to catch herself. This lady is stunning. Deep complexion complimented by her colorful makeup and box braids with neon colors strung throughout. Her features seem almost too perfect. “I’m Naomi.” 

Solana opens her mouth to respond when Roman takes the lead for her.

“Solana.” She looks up at him, gently bouncing Raya who continues to keep her face buried, stranger danger on full-on display. “Naomi is my cousin Jimmy’s wife,” he shares, moving to point to the other women. “This is her best friend, Bayley.” A small wave from Bayley as he transitions to the last woman. “And, this is my cousin, Ava.”

“Alleged,” Ava snorts, faux whispering to Solana, using her hand to hide her mouth. “I’m way too good to be related to someone like him.”

Bayley makes a ‘ha’ sound. “Dude, I been saying the same thing since we were kids.”

Roman scowls, lowly growing, “fuck ya’ll.” It puts a small smile on Solana’s face, as she bites back her laughter. She also makes note and appreciates the way he works hard to keep profanity from hitting Raya’s ears, something Solana had previously shared with him. Explained how she tried not to cuss around Soraya, a boundary and rule he's continuously respected.

He’s been great with it, actually, now that Solana thinks about it. Especially since whenever Raya isn’t around, Roman curses like a sailor. 

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Solana greets, looking at her daughter. “This is—”

“Oh, we know exactly who this is,” Naomi interrupts with that same friendly smile, focusing on the little girl in Solana’s arms. “This must be the fabulous Soraya.”

A thought crosses Solana’s mind. Has Roman spoken with his friends and family about Raya?

About her?

“This is,” Solana giggles, talking to her baby girl. “Can you say hi, Raya?” Glancing at the women, she explains, “we mostly call her Raya.”

“She’s so cute,” Bayley makes a face and pouts, leaning down, hands on her knees, trying to capture Raya’s attention. “Hi, Raya.”

Ava and Naomi make similar attempts to interact with Soraya, Solana attempting to help by continuing to ask Raya to say hi.

And, finally, she does. 

“Hi.” The softest, cutest thing accompanied by Raya offering a quick wave before burying her face back into Solana’s shoulder, all the while looking over at Roman who winks, making her giggle. 

Gasps around, as Ava shares, “wait, because why are you so adorable?” Raya, as if understanding the compliment, wiggles against Solana who can’t stop smiling at the wholesome interaction. Ava then looks up, eyes pleading, “can we hold her?”

Solana can barely open her mouth when Roman steps forward. “Not without washing your hands.” Solana looks up at him, withholding her giggle. She was going to ask about as such, just not as….blunt. “And naw, hand sanitizer don’t count. Ya’ll not about to get her sick.”

Naomi sucks her teeth. “Okay, Dr. Reigns.” 

He ignores her smart comment, instead pointing towards the house. “Go on.” Bayley glares, subtly flipping him off. “Use your feet.” 

“Roman,” Solana lightly scolds, switching Soraya from one side to the other, her baby girl continuing to look between the people who’ve always seemingly become enraptured by her.

But, right when the women leave, rushing to cleanse their hands so they can hold Raya, a new group arrives. This time, a group of men, and judging by the nearly identical look of two of them, Solana has a good guess about the identification of ⅔ of them. 

“Jimmy and Jey?” She asks, hoping to God she’s not wrong. Roman has definitely mentioned them once or twice.

One of them throws his hands up. “You got it, Lil’ Bit!” She cracks a smile, relieved to not have embarrassed herself in front of Roman’s family. 

Not yet, anyway. 

The one with more of a pronounced, salt and pepper beard and freshly done braids slaps himself on his chest. “I’m Big Jim, and this is lil brother, Jey.” He points with one finger to the man slightly shorter than him with an…..interesting hairstyle. Much like the man on the end with a complexion similar to Naomi, different hairstyle, and piercings she’s not used to seeing in men around his age range. 

“And this Truth,” Jey introduces. “My brother-in-law.”

“Don’t worry,” Truth speaks with a little more volume than necessary considering the close proximity of everyone. “My sister ain’t here.”

“That’s cause she ain’t allowed at my house,” Jimmy says with a slight eye roll, offering. “Her ass crazy.”

Solana’s jaw drops once more as Roman chides his cousin for the profanity. “I–umm—”

“Awww,” Truth starts, jaw dropping, hand over his mouth. “Well, look at what we got here.” He leans over ever so slightly, trying to be at eye level with Raya. His voice is sugary sweet and coaxing, perfectly appropriate for a child. Much unlike what comes out of his mouth. 

“Hi there, lil’ light skin baby.”

“Truth!”

“Why would you even say that?”

“I don’t know we even keep trying with your slow ass.”

The chorus of protests and slaps from the twins are ended with Roman correcting him with all the baritone of his deep voice. “Her name is Soraya, Truth.”

“We call her Raya,” Solana offers, somehow knowing he means well. His delivery is….something, but he really does have a….gentle aura about him. 

They all do.

“What?” Truth appears genuinely offended and confused as to why everyone else around him is offended. He shakes his head, looking at a still smiling, seemingly amused Raya. “Why don’t you go on and tell Uncle Truth what you wanna eat?”

As Solana’s brows furrow with confusion from the ‘uncle’ comment, another round of aggravated sighs emanate around her. 

Roman closes his eyes. He looks like his patience is truly being tested in this moment. “Truth, don’t start with that.”

Solana frowns, looking between the men for some insight. “Wh–what?”

“Man.” Jey shakes his head, gesturing to his brother-in-law. “Truth think he can talk to and understand babies.” 

As Solana does her best to hide her confusion, this Truth person protests, “I can!” 

“No, you can’t, Truth.” Roman objects, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You can barely understand your damn self,” Jimmy scoffs, earning an elbow in his side from Jey. “Oh! What was that for?”

Jey points to Raya. “Don’t be cussing in front of the baby.”

Solana can only laugh at the….interesting bunch.

“Okay!” Naomi’s voice sounds as the ladies return rushing over, Ava not hesitating to shove her way between the twins. However, Naomi is first, standing at the front of the line with a hopeful expression. “Hands are all washed.”

“For at least a minute?”

“What are you, the CDC?” Ava scoffs, fully ignoring Roman, as she looks and directs her statement to Solana. “Is it alright?”

Solana nods. “Sure.” Her lips linger for a second against Raya’s temple as she reaches her baby girl to Naomi who perfectly accepts the handover, awwing with her mouth open as Raya continues to look at them with all the intrigue.

“Hi, Raya,” Ava speaks, giving a little wave. “I’m Ava.” 

“I’m Bayley,” she greets, the group laughing when Raya starts babbling. 

“She’s saying it’s very nice to meet everyone.”

“Truth!”

Solana can’t hold in her laughter as she watches how naturally everyone takes to Raya and vice versa. Fiercely protective of her daughter, it’s a new experience being around people she just met less than half an hour ago only for them to naturally connect to not only herself but her little girl.

Far from what she was expecting but oh so appreciated.

“She’s such an adorable little girl.” Ava compliments as she’s now holding Raya who pulls at her necklace, clearly trying to snatch it off. 

“She looks just like you,” Jey points out, both him and Jimmy also trying to interact. 

Pride swells in Solana’s chest. “Thank you.” Given the non-existent relationship Raya has with Cruz and just how awful of a person he’s been since Solana disclosed her pregnancy, anything that her little girl can take from her and only her is so appreciated. 

“Babe.” Solana looks up at Roman, feeling him take her hand as he gestures over to the tables with food. “Come on.”

Her smile dims, that protectiveness rising to the surface as she looks back at Ava and Soraya. “It’s okay. We can watch her.”

Naomi shakes her head, sharing as she accepts Raya from Ava. “Can we keep her for a bit? It’s been so long since I’ve had a baby girl to love on.” She takes Raya’s hand, gently wiggling it, one again evoking laughter from Solana’s pride and joy. “My daughter is 8 going on 18 most days.”

There’s a bit of apprehension. Understandable, in Solana’s eyes. She literally just met these people. But, the open layout won’t allow Soraya to be anywhere Solana can’t see. She’ll have eyes on her the whole time. 

“Okay,” she relents, Bayley accepting the baby bag from her. “Just let me know if you need anything—”

“We’ll be fine!” Ava dismisses, the women all clearly in seven heaven with Raya who seems just as happy to be the center of attention.

“Told you.” Roman moves to take her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. 

Solana playfully rolls her eyes, as he leads her over to the food so they can fix their plates.

But, near the tables where the delicious smelling food is laid out are two other individuals. Caucasian men who chat quietly among themselves, one on the thinner sider, the other a bit more stocky. 

The thin man with two-toned hair pulled back into a bun, similar to Roman’s, starts with a small grin, seeing the two of them head over.

“Big Dog,” he greets, him and Roman exchanging that man hug before Roman does the same with the other one. 

“Solana.” Roman looks down, moving to stand back beside her, hand resting on her back. “This is Seth and Dean. Two of my oldest friends.”

“We go way back,” Seth chuckles, offering his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Solana. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” For some reason, that’s surprising to her. It’s obvious Roman has talked about her. His family confirmed as such, but just how much has he talked about her? “Good things, I hope?”

“Totally,” Dean chimes, right before abruptly opening up a bag of chips, stuffing his mouth and offering a muffled, “Dean.”

Solana smiles. She can already tell he’s an….interesting soul. In the same way Truth is, but still….innocent. 

“Well, it’s really nice to meet both of you.”

“Same,” Seth agrees. He motions behind her. “And, I take it the star of the show over there is Soraya.”

Solana’s smile naturally grows. “You’d be correct.” She turns around, seeing that Raya is still very much enjoying all of the attention and interaction. “I’d introduce you, but….”

“I get it,” Seth chuckles. “I have a daughter, too. The gang here see a cute kid and lose their shit.”

“Word,” Dean says, Solana trying to hold back her laughter. A character for sure. 

But, as Roman and Solana prepare their food and chat with the other two men, another conversation transpires revolving primarily around a certain Soraya Miller.

“I’m not even being dramatic, dude.” Bayley starts, sitting Raya on her lap as the little girl plays with her necklace, clearly intrigued by the locket. “This has to be the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“Isn’t she?” Ava is in awe, trying to capture Raya’s attention with peek-a-boo.

“She is a cute—”

“Psst.”

The way the group collectively cuts or rolls their eyes at what they all know is about to be some shit. 

Jey, however, is the brave soul. “What, Truth?”

He looks around, as if expecting someone to eavesdrop before pointing to Raya. “Ya’ll know this Roman baby, right?”

“Oh my God.”

“I knew it was gon’ be something with him.”

“Why do ya’ll even still hang out with him?”

“Truth.” Jimmy closes his eyes and shakes his head. “This is not Roman’s baby. This is Solana’s baby.” 

“Man,” Truth dismisses, clearly grounded and cemented in his baseless theory. “Look at her.” The group does, Raya clapping and giggling, completely oblivious to the conversation at hand. “She look just like him!”

Jey opens his mouth to protest when he takes another look at Soraya. “Hey….” Several sets of eyes land on him. “I’m not saying Truth right, but….she do kinda favor big Uce.”

“Lord, not you, too,” Naomi groans. 

“I’m just saying,” Jey defends, his hands up in an almost surrender motion. “I can kinda see it.” He then takes it a step further, asking his twin brother something that’s been on his mind since the two arrived. “Does Solana look familiar to you?” 

For the life of him, he can’t figure out why, but there is definitely something familiar about his cousin’s new girlfriend. Like, he’s seen her somewhere before. 

He just can’t figure out where.

But, as Jimmy goes to reply, offering a small level of agreement, Truth does what Truth does best.

“It’s cause they all light-skinneded’!”

“Truth, shut up!

—--------

Natural.

It all feels so natural. The way Solana and Soraya seem to blend in with Roman’s inner circle. Everyone is so nice and friendly. Hilarious as well. Jimmy and Truth are most definitely the comedians of the group. Dean is too, in a weird sort of way. He’s not necessarily trying. Just being himself.

The story she’s told about their meeting with Roman way back in middle school makes all the sense in the world. Three stubborn kids who couldn’t get along and landed a detention one day that made them realize they had more in common than they initially realized. 

Classic.

“She’s so beautiful!” Solana compliments, handing Naomi back her phone that shows a picture of her and Jimmy’s daughter, Aniyah. “Why isn’t she here?”

“Chile, she with Jimmy parents getting even more spoiled.” Naomi answers, placing her phone back in the pocket of her jean shorts. “Plus, this is an adults only get-together.”

At that, Solana stills. “It is?” Naturally, her gaze falls over to where Roman is talking with the rest of the men, holding Raya who hits at him, clearly wanting his attention and not liking having to share it. Roman takes her hand, letting her shake and play with it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—Roman didn't—”

Because, he most definitely did not tell her Raya wasn’t technically allowed. And just like that, she feels bad.

“No,” Ava cuts in. “Raya is absolutely fine. We wanted you to bring her. Wanted to meet her and you.”

It’s helpful reassurance, for sure. Moving, too. They wanted to meet her. 

Meet Raya.

Solana hasn’t forgotten Roman’s not so great description of his twin sister, but so far, everyone else in his family more than makes up for it. Bayley then adds, “Absolutely. It’s really just Jey’s bad ass children no one wanted to deal with.”

That being the second or third time someone has alluded to Jey’s children, Solana has to ask, “are….are Jey’s children really that bad?”

Naomi blows out a breath, asking, “you know the show Beyond Scared Straight?”

Solana nods. “Yeah.”

“They got rejected for being too horrible.” Solana’s eyes widen. What the hell? “That should tell you everything you need to know.”

“Doesn’t one of them have a court date coming up soon?”

“Hell, probably.” Naomi shakes her head at Bayley’s question as Solana continues to sit partially floored. Jey seems so nice and friendly. It’s hard to imagine him with such…..difficult offspring. “Man, they keep hogging her.”

Solana refocuses to see Naomi scowling, watching Raya, still being held by Roman, interact with Jey who makes some sort of up and down hand motion. Like, he’s trying to show her how to do something. 

“She really is such a sweet baby. You can tell she takes after you.”

Ava’s complement makes Solana’s stomach flutter in the best way. “Thank you so much.”

“How old is she again?” 

Solana smiles with all the pride of a mother. “She’ll be one in two weeks.”

Naomi gasps. “Her birthday is coming up?” Solana nods, watching Naomi pull her phone back out as she unlocks, does some tapping and hands it to Solana. “Give me your number, and text me what size she wears so I can get her something.”

Solana barely has time to protest when Ava and Bayley express the same, also asking for Solana’s number so they too can buy Raya something. 

“No, you really don’t have to—”

She’s cut off by Bayley sucking her teeth. “Way too late for that, dude.” Biting down on her bottom lip, Solana programs her number, as Bayley asks, “are you throwing her a birthday party?”

A bit of embarrassment fills the young mother as she gives Naomi her phone. “No. Umm….just a little get-together with my mom, big sister, and her family.” 

Her explanation isn’t met with any looks of judgment or confusion, which is partially what Solana was expecting. What mother doesn’t throw a birthday party for her daughter’s first birthday?

A broke one.

That’s who.

It’s a depressing thought. Solana would love to celebrate Soraya the way she deserves, but financially, she just can’t cut it. 

And, it sucks. It sucks a lot. 

“Well, you can bet baby girl will be getting a bunch of gifts from her new aunties,” Naomi announces, smiling with excitement. “I love shopping. Especially for babies.”

“Thank you, but you—you really don’t have to.” You don’t even know me, is what Solana really wants to say.

“Too late,” Bayley cuts her off, however, clearly uninterested in anything that doesn’t revolve around trying to land on what gifts to get for Raya. “Okay, they’ve had her long enough.” 

“Agreed,” Naomi sounds as she and Bayley make their way across the yard, fed up with having to wait their turn to play with and hold Soraya. 

Solana can only chuckle. 

One thing for certain, her baby is sure to sleep good tonight.

“He’s good with her,” Ava’s voice pulls Solana from her thoughts, as she one again looks over to the group. Roman stands arguing with Naomi and Bayley, clearly not wanting to hand over Raya who seems more than content being held by the man.

“He is.” Solana agrees. The way Roman has been so patient, understanding, and kind to her daughter is one of the biggest reasons she adores him as much as he does. The sex is amazing, but him being good to her daughter?

Priceless.

“Gotta admit, it’s a little surprising. Never really took Roman for the family man, but now that I think about it, it makes sense.”

Solana frowns, angling her body towards his cousin. “What—what do you mean?”

Ava sighs. “Roman’s parents…..they’re not the best. Actually, if I’m being honest, they're pieces of shit. Always have been. It’s why he has a poor relationship with them to this day.” Solana recalls Roman hinting as such but has never really pushed as to why. She wanted to respect his boundaries and privacy. “His twin sister, Rosalia? Total fucking bitch, but it’s not exactly unwarranted. Their parents only ever wanted a son, and they never tried to hide that from her. Shipping her off to fancy private all-girls schools every chance they got.”

Solana also recalls him describing his sister as not being the easiest, but if what Ava says is true, and Solana has no reason to believe otherwise, it definitely does make sense. 

And, in a weird way, Solana can relate.

Can relate to Rosalia. 

She, too, knows what it’s like to feel unwanted and unloved by a parent. 

To be abandoned.

Needing to pull from her own unresolved issues, Solana inquires, “and Roman?”

Ava scoffs. “It’s hard to say if he had it worse. He was mostly kept here, and while his parents never hesitated to dump him on nannies, they made it clear when they were around that nothing less than perfection would be accepted. His dad traveled a lot, his mom doing anything she could to never be home. He spent most of his childhood by himself. Would go over to uncle Kish’ house a lot, the twins' dad, because his parents would literally leave him home alone all the time with just the help and security.” Solana’s heart practically breaks at that. Imagining Roman as a child, even a teen, in what was probably a big ass house. An empty house. “Majority of the time they spent with him was largely focused on his tra—” Ava stops herself, and Solana finds herself wondering why. Wanting to know more, even if it is all just heartbreaking to hear. “He just really got the short end of the stick the first 18 years of his life.”

Solana doesn’t deny that. Just listening to it is….heartbreaking almost. “That’s….that’s terrible.”

Ava nods, tucking a piece of her hair behind her pierced ears. “Anytime he could be at the twins house or even mine, he would. I think he just didn’t want to be alone. He was just a kid.” She stops, a small frown appearing on her pretty face. “Just wanted a family who wanted and loved him.”

As does any kid. Roman didn’t want or desire anything that any other child wouldn't want. Should have.

Deserves.

“Obviously, he’s a man now, so things have changed, but…” As she trails off, her sight sets on the other side of the yard, as does Solana. The two of them watching how Roman, even while not holding Raya anymore, seems to be instructing Naomi, who does hold her baby girl. Most likely trying to tell her the do’s and don’ts, all the while Raya continues to beam up happily at him. Content. “Maybe not everything.”

—-------

A little while later, the group is more mixed up, primarily because of Candy by Cameo that plays as the bulk of them dance. 

A determined Jimmy and Truth trying to show a rhythmless Dean the unofficial/official choreography. However, Roman’s focus is more on Solana who holds Raya while laughing and dancing along with everyone.

There’s something that fills him seeing how natural she blends in with his close friends and family.

Like….like she belongs.

They both do. 

“I like her.” Roman looks to his left where Ava comes to stand beside him. She, too, like himself, is not the biggest on dancing. “She’s a sweet girl. They both are.”

Roman looks back over to the mother-daughter duo. “I know.”

Silence befalls them for a good minute, but it doesn’t last long. And, Roman is unsurprised. He knows her well. Knows she has something she wants to say to him.

And, she does.

Ava turns towards her cousin, more like a brother than anything. “Roman, what the hell are you doing?” He sighs. “You’ve been seeing this girl for what, almost two months now and you still haven’t told her the truth about who you really are?”

Roman says nothing at first, because there’s nothing to say. He knows it’s wrong and won’t try to deny it. “I know.”

“Do you?” She challenges, crossing her arms. “Because you yourself have said you see her at least twice a week, and in all those interactions, you haven’t found the time to tell her the truth?”

His jaw clenches as he angles his body away from the group, not wanting Solana to detect the tense exchange occurring. “It’s not that easy.”

“No, it certainly isn’t. Not with how long you’re stringing this out.” She scoffs. “I’d understand if it was still only a week in. Hell, maybe two, but it’s going on six weeks, Roman.” She shakes her head. “You should have told her by now. She doesn’t deserve to be lied to.”

“I know that, Ava. I’m not fucking stupid.” He isn’t. Roman knows the longer he goes without telling Solana the truth, the harder it will be. But, it’s also pretty fucking difficult to find the right time to tell her that he’s a fucking mafia boss and heads two of the biggest crime syndicates in this hemisphere.

“I don’t know, cause right about now, I’d say that’s debatable.” Ava’s expression and voice soften just a bit. “It’s not even just that, Roman. Not even just who you are. It’s about what you’re supposed to be doing right now.”

His eyes narrow, defensiveness and a sense of protectiveness building. “That’s not what this—”

She cuts him off, motioning between the two of them. “I know that, and you know that, but what about Solana? What about when she finds out?” An important, valid question he probably hasn’t thought about a ton, if he’s being totally honest. “Cause I can tell you from a woman’s perspective what it’s gonna look and feel like.” She moves right into sharing. “It’s gonna look and feel like you found a younger, naive woman to give you exactly what you need. And you know she can do it, because she already has one child.” More softening, her voice also lowering. “And what about Raya? Have you thought about her in all of this?”

That defensiveness jumps to level fucking ten. “Of course, I have.”

Ava’s shoulders slump ever so slightly. “She’s just a baby, Roman. And, it’s obvious she already has an attachment to you.” And you to her. But, Ava opts to keep that assessment to herself. “If this goes south, it’s gonna be hard on her—”

“It won’t,” Roman’s voice cuts like steel. “I won’t let it.”

Ava just looks at him, fully recognizing the switch. The clench of his jaw, the squaring of his shoulders, the hardening of his gaze. It’s less her cousin, the one she grew up with and knows like the back of her hand, and more the ruthless, stoic, mafia kingpin that many are wise to fear.

His determination is unshakable.

“I know what I’m doing, Ava.” And that tone, one of finality, tells her without telling her that this conversation is over. He’s done talking.

She sighs, watching him walk back over to the group, as the song has ended and most are just conversing. 

“I certainly hope so….”

Roman is close enough proximity to reach for Solana who kisses Raya’s temple as she holds onto and hugs her mother. Something tells him baby girl is getting closer and closer to nap or bedtime. Her energy noticeably lessening as the hours past.

Naomi is looking down at her phone, smiling. “Oh, that was good.” She’s most likely looking at some clip of the group of them dancing. “I should post—”

“What?” Solana’s voice cuts through the low chatter, Roman looking at her. He sees it the moment it happens. The moment her smile drops, replaced with something indistinguishable. 

Fear.

“Post?” She asks, fidgeting a bit, her grip on Soraya lightly tightening. “Like…like on social media?” Naomi can’t even open her mouth to answer. “Please don’t.” Roman watches the interaction with a mixture of confusion and slight intrigue. Same as everyone else. “I—I just don’t….I don’t like her face being online.”

Naomi once again goes to respond, this time successful in her response. “Oh. Of course. I get it.” She points to Jimmy. “We’re the same way with Aniya.” She offers a small smile. “I’ll just share the clips that don’t have you and Raya in them.”

And just like that, relief appears, Solana’s entire body relaxing. Relieved. She’s relieved.  “Thank you.”

Naomi says nothing, and neither does anyone else, but Roman is certain they’re all wondering the same thing he is.

What was that about?

—-----------

Roman’s assessment proved accurate. 

Less than an hour after the social media thing, Raya started to get fussy, giggles turning into crying, wanting only to be held by her mama.

Tired. 

She was tired and reached her max for the day, hence Solana and Roman having to head out. Solana doesn’t leave without damn near everyone’s numbers and a mandatory promise to come visit sooner rather than later. 

Naomi mentioned something about a girls spa day.

Solana didn’t have it in her to explain she can’t afford anything like that right now, deciding to tackle it when that conversation arises. 

Overall, Solana would 100% consider the evening a win. Roman holds her hand almost the entire drive back to his place, the other expertly handling the steering wheel, talking and conversing about the kickback. His eyes, as well as Solana’s, frequently use the rearview mirror to check on Soraya who sits mostly quiet and exhausted in her car seat. 

By the time they arrive to his place, Roman is partially expecting Solana to come up, at least for a couple minutes. But, that doesn’t happen. 

She instead walks over to her (his) car, unlocking and opening the passenger door, strapping Raya in before turning to look up at him. “Give me like two hours.”

He looks at her, curious. “Why?”

Solana offers a small smile, gesturing to Raya who’s gradually succumbing to the sleep that calls to her. “Gives me time to get her settled and put down for bed.” A gentle kiss to Raya’s forehead prevents Solana from seeing the fleeting look of disappointment that appears in his warm eyes. 

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “You sure….you sure you don’t need….like help or something?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good.” Her smile remains the same, slipping into something teasing. “I’m sure another two hours won’t kill you, big dog.” 

The scowl on his face makes her giggle. “Don’t ever call me that crap again.”

“Noted,” she chuckles. Unsurprisingly, Roman helps Solana get loaded up in the car, placing her purse and Raya's baby bag in the passenger seat. There’s an intentional slowness and caution he uses to close the door, not wanting to startle an exhausted Soraya. 

Soraya, whose little mouth and face scrunches up as she yawns, grasping at her mother while murmuring, “Roman…”

Solana’s chuckle is soft. “Roman has to stay here, mija. It’s time for you to go night night.” Raya’s response is to pout, indecipherable sounds indicating a potential tantrum is on the horizon.

“Wait.” Solana looks back to see Roman turning to head back the elevator that leads up to his penthouse. Confused, Solana does as he asks, entertaining Raya, rubbing her lil tummy with one finger, trying to hold off that pending fussy fit. 

The sound of rushed footsteps prompts her to turn around to see Roman, something black folded over his shoulder.

She continues to look confused as he moves his hand to the small of her back, gently pushing, indicating he needs her to move. She does as such, watching his big body move to where she previously stood. 

Roman says something in Samoan, or Italian, reaching the black item to Raya. The way she continues to pout, fisting and playing with Solana now realizes is a shirt, easily morphs into a smile as she happily kicks her legs, giggling. 

A shirt.

It’s his shirt. 

“There you go….” He says, index finger moving in an almost circle on her stomach as she happily babbles, holding and hugging the shirt. 

Solana scoffs, that damn familiar feeling returning. “Wow….” Roman steps back and glances at her. “Keep this up, and you’re gonna need to subscribe and save.”

He shakes his head, moving closer and kissing her forehead. “Two hours?”

She nods, biting down on her bottom lip. “Don’t be late.”

“Oh, trust me….” His eyes rake over her with undeniable lust. It has Solana pressing her thighs together. “I won’t be.”

“Good,” she murmurs, as he backs away, hand on the back passenger door. She sees the way his expression softens as he looks back over at Raya. “Night, Soraya.”

Her response is a happy shout of his name. “Roman!”

He smiles, gently closing the door before looking back over at Solana. “I’ll see you in a lil’ bit.”

Solana nods in response, silently walking over to the driver's side, climbing in and starting the SUV.

The car ride is mostly silent, sans Raya babbling occasionally, calling for Solana, never once letting go of the shirt she continues to play with and hold close to her.

It keeps a small smile on Solana’s face for certain.

True to her guesstimate, it takes about a total of two hours for Solana to get Soraya bathed, changed, and fast asleep in bed followed up with Solana hopping in the shower and preparing for Roman’s arrival. 

A quick little shave, the spray of that body spray he seems to always compliment her on when she wears it, grabbing that beach towel that’s sure to earn its keep before morning hits. 

She bypasses anything lacy or sexy, simply settling for an oversized shirt that covers her nude body. It truly makes no sense to her to get all done up in anything when he’s going to rip it off her in a matter of minutes. 

Besides, too many items separating him from her. It’s been a long ass day. Good, but long, and she wants to end it in the best way she knows how. How to decompress, that is. 

By riding the shit out of his big ass dick. 

Solana feels a bit embarrassed by how quickly she hops off her sofa at the sound of three light knocks. A quick glance through her peep hole is probably unnecessary, but she’s always leaned on the side of safe than sorry. 

Tried to, at least.

Smiling all giddy and elated, she unlocks and swings open that door with way too much enthusiasm that only grows when she sees him. He’s also clearly showered and changed, bun not as neat, slightly messy. She loves it. 

Dark gray sweats hang low accompanied by a plain black shirt as well as Jordans. His gaze sweeps her over, settling on her breast that press against her tee, offering a nice outline of her nipples.

Roman welcomes himself inside, grabbing her by her ass and pulling her into him. Solana inhales deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne. Masculine and woodsy. It’s so him. “What took you so damn long?”

She smiles as he leans down to kiss her. Solana’s hands move up his shirt, grasping onto his shoulders as she smiles into said kiss. “Patience.” 

He scowls, kicking the door closed behind them. One hand stays palming her ass cheek while the other moves to lock the door without even needing to look. “For you? That shit’s impossible.”

He kisses her once more before his eyes lift above and behind her. “She sleep?”

Solana nods. “Didn’t take very long. She was tired.” She drops her hands, scrunching the bottom of his shirt. “Though the two shirts she’s now sleeping with in her crib could also be factors.”

His eyes seem to light up at that. “Yeah?”

She shakes her head. “I couldn’t get them away from her.” At some point, Solana might have to talk to Roman about the non-existent sustainability of this shirt thing. Keep it up, and her baby girl’s crib will be filled with nothing but men’s shirts. It’s fine now, especially since, for whatever reason, Soraya seems to find comfort with them. 

But, eventually, they’ll have to figure something out. 

“Hey.” Her voice lowers, Roman’s hands shifting to her hips, continuing to hold her close to him. “I really enjoyed myself today.”

His lips lift into a small grin. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods, unable to not mimic his grin. “Your family and friends are amazing. You were right. I….I really didn’t have anything to worry about.” It feels like night and day. The anxiety that filled her when he first mentioned/invited her to meet them all. Now, she finds herself wondering about when the next get-together will be. “And more importantly, they….they took to Raya so well.”

“Of course, they did.” He sounds like he can’t understand why she would think or anticipate anything different. “Like mother, like daughter.” The back of his hand brushes against her cheek. “What’s not to love?” Fluttering in her stomach is accompanied by the blush on her face when he leans over and kisses her forehead. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I did,” she reassures, holding onto him. “Learned a lot about you as well.”

His brow lifts. “Oh?” She nods, giggling when he starts to scowl. “What the fuck did Ava tell you?”

Her giggling deepens. They have such an adorable relationship to her. “Nothing bad.” Nothing serious anyway. “I just….why didn’t you tell me you’re a fighter?”

There’s a shift in Roman’s disposition. It’s felt in the way he almost tenses against her. “What?”

“At the Warehouse?” He relaxes just a bit, though the initial reaction slightly confuses her. “I mean, it makes sense….” Solana drinks him in, imagining the clothes were non-existent, leaving him in the buff. Nothing but thick, strong muscles accentuating his big body. God, she needs him, and she needs him now. “But, I don’t know….maybe I could come see you fight sometime.” Her daughter too young to be exposed to that sort of thing, so Solana would definitely have to have either her mom, sister, or Kayden keep Raya, but with enough time given in advance, that could be arranged. 

Except, that doesn’t seem to be anything on Roman’s radar. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Solana scoffs quietly. “Why?” Wiggling her brows, she dances her finger down his solid chest. “Might be kinda sexy to see you kicking ass.”

Far from a violent person, there’s something appealing and alluring about imagining Roman in the ring fighting. Dominant. Leading. 

Sexy.

His scowl remains as he shakes his head. “That’s….that’s a different part of my life.” At that, her smile dims. “I want to keep that separate from you. Separate from Raya.”

By the end, she’s frowning. Everyone is allowed to have their thing, but she’s not fully understanding just what about this would make him want to keep it away from her and Raya.

“Roman—”

“Baby.” It’s disgusting how her thighs clamp together just from a single word. “You know I could talk to you all night, but that’s not what I came over here to do.”

It’s redirection, or maybe just avoidance. Regardless, it’s effective, nonetheless. 

Solana lowers her gaze and eyes, licking her lips. “So….” Slipping her hand past the waistband of his sweats and boxers. Solana gasps at the same time his jaw clenches when she attempts to wrap her hand around him, fingers unable to touch from his girth. “What did you come to do?”

—---------

“Oh, shit.”

The minute it leaves her mouth, she knows she’s fucked up. 

And, it’s less what was said and more how loud it was. 

He’d already warned her twice before about her volume, something she already knows needs to be monitored given her daughter who sleeps peacefully in the room over. The last thing anyone wants is for Raya's sleep to be disturbed, but none more than Solana and the man both behind and under her.

“Hmm,” he hums. Solana pants, doing her best to prepare for whatever awaits but never once stopping the gyrating of her hips. It’s addictive and sinfully delicious the stretch of his massive dick inside of her. How overwhelmingly good it feels to have him so deep, touching and hitting against her G-spot. His lap is nothing but a resting place for her juices that have to have that beach towel soaked. Understandable given this has to be the third round. Maybe fourth. 

Truth be told, she always loses count after the first. Its strength always too discombobulating for her to be tracking anything. 

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” He asks in a dangerously calm voice as she transitions to bouncing on top of that God-tier dick. Roman trails his lips against her temple, one hand going to and squeezing her left breast. “Answer the question, Solana.”

Her “answer” is a moan and a ‘fuck’ she has to bite back and keep within as he presses the rose even closer to her clit. How she’s not screaming is a mystery to her, because he must have adjusted the setting. 

It’s never felt like this.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, trying to push the rose away, the overstimulation becoming too much. “Please, Ro—”

“But, you weren’t a good girl, were you?” His deep voice is both irritating and alluring and has her juices continuing to leak out of her stuffed pussy. "You didn't listen." His dick is suffocating and unforgiving, completely consuming and squeezing every inch out of her tight hole. “So, why should I help you?”

“You’re—fuck you.”

His chuckle reverberates against her as he moves to play with her nipple. “But, that’s what I’m doing, sweetheart.”

A truth she can’t deny unlike the burning of her thighs from having been in this position far too long. 

He’s sitting and propped up against her headboard. She’s straddling him, her back into his front, her legs spread on either side of him as she leans back, continuing to ride him. But, that’s not enough for Roman. The basics are never enough for him. He has to take it a step further, and this time, it comes in the form of using her rose on her clit while she bounces atop his lap. 

Again, too much.

He starts kissing along her shoulder, praising her endurance that comes from fuck knows where. She should be completely immobilized at this point. “And, you do such a good job for me.” Her eyes flutter shut, Solana suppressing another scream as he once again moves that damn rose even closer into her clit, deepening its impact, all while he continues to play with her titties. “Perfect lil’ thing….”

“Roman, I can’t—” She stops, her movements slowing, the sensations too immense. “I’m gonna–ahh!” She reaches for his wrist, trying to pull that damn rose away from her. Solana feels like she’s seconds away from borderline sobbing. “Roman, stop.”

“Is that really what you want?” No. It’s not what she wants, and he knows it. He knows her, knows her body, her limitations, when she’s at her breaking point. Has learned her all too well. “Naw….that’s not what you want.” She can practically see the smug ass grin on his handsome face as he continues to use that evil ass toy to torture her. “You love when I do this shit. Stretch this pussy until you can’t take it anymore. Make you all dumb, fucked out, and crying over my dick.”

The strangest, most non-existent sex sound leaves her mouth when he uses one of those big ass hands of his to cup both her breasts together in a way that has her head craned back, laid on his shoulder. 

Mouth ajar from the erotic of it all, he steals a kiss, dropping her heavy breast to angle her head so he can claim her mouth the same way he’s claimed her body. It’s uncomfortable in a sense, the contortionist approved position he’s finessed her into, but it’s a position that has her feeling pleasure in every inch and orifice of her body. 

It’s a nasty, spit swapping, tongue dancing kiss that has her body on fire, her orgasm pushing closer and closer to the surface. And, he knows it. It’s why he, in what feels like mere seconds, has ditched the rose and their current position for something else. 

His favorite.

“Shit, Roman.” It takes a godly amount of self-control for her to be mindful of her volume as he rocks into her with his massive dick. “Yes, baby, fuck me. Just like that. Oh.” On all fours, her ass tooted up and back arched perfectly—just how he likes—she struggles to keep from screaming, alerting the whole damn building just how good he’s fucking her. 

Roman’s hands dig into her hips, likely to leave some sort of marking or bruise come morning. Not that she cares. It won’t be the first time. 

She bites down hard on her bottom lip when his hand comes down on her ass. “Like that, sweetheart?”

All she can do is nod furiously, tears spilling over from how he drives into her, heavy balls slapping against her ass, her wetness smeared and leaking all over him and her. It’s almost concerning how wet he makes her pussy. Sometimes without even having to touch her. 

The man is dangerous. 

She gasps when he fists her hair, yanking her head back to smash his lips onto her while his hips grind that equally dangerous dick into her tight ass cunt.

“Could play in this pussy all day,” he murmurs, Solana’s mouth dropping open against him, her will crumbling and body failing on her. It’s all too much. 

“Please,” she sobs. 

His scoff is cruel. So cruel. “Please what?”

Fuck him. “I–I need to—fuck—please let me come.” Solana is seeing white, blue, red, and every fucking color of the rainbow at this point. Any attempts to pry his hand off her hip, to slow down the almost animalistic way he’s fucking her is null and void. 

His hips continue to snap into her, furthering her descent into insanity. “You wanna come?”

“Yes,” she cries, feeling it coming, feeling that overwhelming, inescapable sensation he wants to prolong. Wants to play God with, and in this moment, he might as well be God. Playing with her livelihood like the deity he looks like. 

Roman makes a tsk tsk tsk sound, pulling her up so her back is pressed against his front as he continues to fuck up and into her. “You think you deserve it?” Yes. No. Maybe. Shit, she doesn’t know. She just knows she needs it. “You didn’t listen to me.”

“I’m sorry.” Begs. She begs, because at this point, she’ll do whatever it takes to end this. It’s perfect and wonderful and every other great adjective, but she needs this release. “I’m sorry—”

Solana groans quietly when he moves one hand to her breast, squeezing. “Sorry, what?”

He slams into her with a brutally delicious thrust, perfectly hitting her G-spot. “Shit,” she pants, desperately grasping at his muscled forearm. “I’m sorry, papi.”

Roman’s hum of approval is the best thing she’s heard in some time. If ever. “Good girl.” Her cunt flutters around his impossible girth. “Now come for papi.”

Solana groans, hating and loving the way he controls her. Controls her body. Controls her orgasm as she comes, almost on command. It arrives, smashing and crashing into her, her entire body is shaking, trembling, damn near convulsing.

Roman kisses her, tongue and all, only breaking said kiss to continue to talk his shit, continuing to taunt and mock her as his dick drives her to sexual delirium. 

All the while he just praises her.

It’s enough to make her come all over again. 

He comes shortly after, shooting and emptying every drop of his load into her puffy, swollen pussy. 

It doesn’t bother her. Not the first time, and it most likely won’t be the last. 

Solana is studious and borderline anal with tracking her cycle and ovulation dates. She’s all but mastered the art of having this fine ass man come inside of during “safe” periods and pulling out during those “risky” periods. 

Shortly after both of them find orgasmic relief, she lays on top of him, completely spent, unable to move. The feel of him softening inside of her conjoined with lingering tremors from the aftermath of her unholy experience soothing almost. 

Eventually, Roman does all the work, carefully untangling her body from his while expertly removing the soaked towel so she’s laying on the sheets that are only partially damp from their…..activities. 

I need to just subscribe and save sheets at this point. 

Still trying to reel her senses back in after all five being fucked out of her, she’s somewhat paying attention when he gets up from the bed and walks into her bathroom. Solana partially blocks out the next few minutes, already knowing what to expect. Roman, ever the gentleman after spewing absolute filth and flipping her every which way, returns with a towel to clean her up after cleaning himself first. He tosses said towels into the hamper in her bathroom before climbing back into her bed that’s much too small for the monolithic man that he is. But, they make it work.

And, then there comes one of her favorite parts. The way he pulls her body into his, kissing her forehead, his finger trailing down her bare arm. 

Solana snuggles close to him. For a man made of nothing but hard, rippling muscles, he’s so comfortable. 

“If I’m late for work tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

It wouldn’t be the first time late night, bomb ass, life-changing sex/dick would have her pushing for time. To be fair, she’s never actually been late for work, just right around the corner from it. Still, much too close for her liking. 

Roman chuckles. “I’ll compensate you.”

Solana snorts, her hand to his chest, tracing his tattoos. “That’s the problem. You compensate me too much.”

Honestly. For someone who’s never been a very sexual person, this man and his girthy nine inches have changed all that in a matter of a little over a month.

Magic. 

He’s fucking magic.

He’s also raw. Roman’s hand behind her back slips to her ass, giving a light squeeze. “Can’t help it. That pussy is fucking addictive.”

Slapping his arm, Solana hides her smile and blush in the safe confines of his strong chest. “Shut up.” His quiet laughter fills the room, dark, only illuminated by the dim lamp she has sitting on her nightstand. 

Her eyes shut, exhaustion from all that fucking catching up to her. 

“You almost woke her up again.” 

Solana peers up at him. That’s certainly the last thing she expected to hear him say, though it’s fair given the ‘again.’

“I’m not trying to,” she murmurs. “It’s….hard.”

Very much so. Hence why he’s right for using the word again to end his sentence. Soraya has already woken up once during her mother’s…..adult time, though a part of Solana wonders just how much it was the noise that disturbed her baby girl and more Raya just being a baby who randomly woke up in the middle of the night.

But, then there’s also the noise complaint she got from one of her neighbors, and that…..that Solana can’t justify. 

“I’ll try to be more quiet,” she agrees. A difficult task, for sure, but an important one, nonetheless.

He’s quiet at first. “Her room is so close to yours here,” he says, Solana partially unsure how to respond to that. It’s not like she can change the size of her apartment. “The guest room at my place is down the hall from my room….”

She looks up, still unsure just where he’s going. “Okay….”

He shrugs, continuing to trail his finger down her arm. “I already have the furniture….”

Solana stills. 

Oh.

A nervous bundle settles in her stomach. “Roman—”

“I’m not asking you to move in.” This time. He’s not asking this time. “I’m just saying it’d probably be easier for us to have sex at my place, because it’s bigger, and we don’t have to worry about the noise disturbing her or your annoying ass neighbors.”

She starts to protest the description of her neighbors as annoying but ultimately decides against it. Not relevant. Not relevant at all.

“Roman, we mostly have sex at night….”

“Exactly,” he agrees, moving his hand to her face, thumb brushing against her bottom lip. “And, if you let me set up the room for her, then you can just spend the night.”

“Roman—”

“Just think about it,” he interrupts, already knowing her initial answer is no.

Maybe.

Because Solana can acknowledge that there’s most definitely a difference between moving in together and the occasional sleepover. One is commitment. One is ease. 

Still, thinking about it feels like the best option in this moment. “Okay,” she agrees, laying back down against his chest. “I will.” 

“Good,” he sounds, hand over hers. Solana closes her eyes once more, ready and willing to come succumb to any sleep she can get in the few hours before she has to be up and ready to tackle yet another long ass day. “Can I ask you something?” 

Solana sighs. She’s so tired. Normally, pillow talk is great, but given she works both jobs and has school tomorrow, she’d much prefer to try to get some sleep. Still, talking with Roman is never something she regrets, so….small sacrifices. 

“Sure,” she finally answers.

More hesitation as he grabs her hand, thumb tracing the scar on her palm. “At the get-together earlier, the whole social media thing….what was that about?”

Solana stills, and she hates that her body is pressed against his, because he has to feel it. Has to know what it means. Regardless, she does her best to play it off. 

“I just….I’m very protective of Raya. I don’t want my or her face online. Too many weirdos out there.”

One in particular.

“I get that,” he responds, his voice on the edge of something else. Suspicion. “But, your reaction was…..you seemed nervous.” 

“I mean, I was nervous. I was meeting your friends and family—”

He sighs. “Solana—”

“I want you to come to Raya’s birthday party.”

It’s not exactly how she planned to ask, well, tell him now, nor can she deny it’s an intentional detour for avoidance. But, a truthful thing nonetheless. 

They’re both looking at each other, so she can see the surprise shift into his pretty brown eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replies. Solana moves her hand up his chest. “I mean, I’ve met your close friends and family. Feels like it’s only right and time you meet mine.” A truthful thing. Only a little over a month into meeting and knowing, dating, Solana feels ready to take that next step of having him at least meet the people closest to her. 

Adding with a small smile, she points out, “plus, I feel like Raya would want you there anyway.”

That’s a given. If there’s one thing Solana knows for certain and can’t deny, it’s that Raya adores her some Roman.

And, if she allows herself to be really honest…..it sometimes feels like Roman feels the same way about Raya. 

“If you can, of course.” Because Solana knows despite how flexible he can be with their meet-ups and dates, he’s still a businessman. A busy businessman. “If you can’t, that’s fi—”

“I’ll be there,” he interrupts, his voice firm. Something tells her come hell or high water, he’ll make it.

“Good,” she murmurs. Solana leans up to kiss him, smiling into said kiss, their lips lingering on each other before she lays her head back down on top of him. “Goodnight, Roman.”

There’s no hesitation this time as he kisses the top of her head. “Goodnight, Solana.” 

Solana releases a sigh of content, pleased to allow sleep to capture her, but while she rests peacefully on top of the man who comes to mean more and more to her as the days past, Roman is restless.

He’s not stupid. 

He knows damn well Solana was trying to change the subject.

Just like he knows she’s hiding something. Roman takes her hand, gently brushing over the scar that mars her palm. He thinks back to the background check he had Paul run on her. Nothing came out of it. Girl’s record was as clean as could be. 

The only thing, however, he now wonders about was her brief move to California a few years back. She was only there for a couple of months before moving back to Florida. He’d always figured it was because she was homesick or just found it to not be what she was hoping or expecting. 

Now….

Now, he’s wondering if it was more. 

If there’s a story there. A story she seems determined to keep to herself. 

It has him torn. Roman is a man who likes to know things. All the things. He hates being out of the loop with shit, but even more, he hates being lied to. 

Period.

Granted, it’s hard for him to be upset with her, and he’s not, but he does wish she would feel comfortable enough to tell him whatever it is she’s hiding. 

And, then he’s reminded that if he wants her to be honest with him, then he needs to be honest with her, and truth be told, Roman isn’t ready for that.

He’s not ready for that fallout. 

Not ready to lose her.

Or Raya.

He’ll tell her. He knows he has to, but in due time. When he can explain the why to her in a way that won’t feel as jarring. 

As unforgiveable.

Until then, he’ll enjoy the now. 

--------

welp. this is bound to end well, right?

[kurokawaia]

❛ WIFEY ❜

Himejima Gyomei X Fem!Wife!Reader

WC; 1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: reader is a stay at home wife, suggestive near the end, i didn't rlly feel like adding any smut sorry :(

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) So I was wondering if you could make a fluffy fic (maybe with a bit of smut if your comfortable with it) with gyomei and wife! Reader on their day to day life when he's not on missions with her cooking for him and doing other wifey duties (and genya on the side so they could be a cute lil family😓😢) - @esrieddai

m.list | demon slayer m.list

Gyomei might be out on an assignment, yet you can't exactly feel the emptiness, and you are sure not going to let the silence get the better of you. You wake up pretty early, all set to make sure things roll smooth when he is away from home. Scrambling from the bed into the kitchen, the sun streams in from the morning, through the shoji screens, spilling soft light along the room.

You prepared breakfast, humming some tune to yourself as usual. When you arranged everything on the table, the kitchen door creaked open, in came Genya, who looked more gloomy than ever—something that worried you a bit. "Good morning, Genya." you welcome him with a smile, hoping he would liven up.

"Good morning," he manages the smallest of smiles in return. "I miss him already."

"I do too," you say as he sits down, gently touching his shoulder. "But we'll keep busy, and he'll be back before we know it." The two of you sit down to eat, having a quiet meal. After breakfast is done, Genya goes outside to train, saying that for Gyomei, she has to train herself harder. You clean up the kitchen, then attend to your daily tasks.

First, water the plants and weed the garden. Some colors are bright, some scents fresh, and it is a view so pretty to take away one's attention from what's going on that irks. You find yourself lost in the labor, with thoughts of Gyomei as you garden, feeling proud that he would have been, seeing everything bloom.

Now that the garden is done, move on to the inside to do some cleaning. Kneeling out of dust in the shelves and down, sweeping the floors to get at everything in its place, you were near Gyomei. Keeping everything clean kept you near Gyomei, even though he might be very far.

You spend the afternoon baking some sweets. You knew it—he loves your home sweets, so you hope that it will put a smile on his face. It's somewhat heartbreaking that Sanemi is rude towards Genya, so for the time being, while Gyomei trains Genya, you hoped that his being nearer to the two of you would give him the sense of a family.

The aroma of fresh goods baking slowly started to fill the kitchen, and you found joy in that simple action of baking, knowing Gyomei loves to eat them, and so does Genya, although he doesn't show it.

You call Genya into the house. He comes up to the kitchen all sweaty and worn out from his training, but there is a knowing, curious look in his eyes, and you can tell from the expression on his face that he can smell that you baked.

"You haven't offered any to me, yet." you say with a plateful of warm cookies as you hand him one.

"Thanks," he says, taking one and biting into it. "These are good."

"You like them?" you say as you converge and sit. "How is your training going?" "It's rough, but I'm getting stronger," he says. I want to fight Gyomei one day." "You will," you say, your voice full of conviction. "I have no doubt."

Evening begins to fall and you kick into preparing dinner. Again, the house fills with the reassuring smell of more home-cooked food. Genya helps you to lay the table and you both sit down for dinner.

No sooner do you start dishing up the food than you hear the familiar slide of the front door opening. Your heart misses a bit of a beat, and you steal a look to Genya, who already bolted from his chair.

You follow him quickly through the house to the front entrance. Gyomei stands there, waiting for them with a soft smile, filled with happiness to be back with his wife and future tsugoku.

"Gyomei!" you exclaim, feeling relieved.

You run to him, flinging your arms about his waist. He gives a soft, muffled chuckle and clasps you in warm arms. You dig your face into his chest, sucking up the familiar smell and feeling the gentle beat of his heart.

"I missed you so much," you whisper against his chest.

"And I missed you," he responds in that deep, soothing voice of his.

Genya strides up, grinning from ear to ear. "Welcome back, Gyomei.

"It's good to be back," Gyomei says, reaching down to ruffle your head with affection.

You pull back out of his reach reluctantly, though it doesn't quite dispel the insistent happiness in your heart. "Dinner's ready. Come join us."

Once the kitchen is cleaned and the home has reached a peaceful stillness once more, you and Gyomei finally find your way back to the bedroom. With your hand resting atop his, Gyomei's powerful arms enfold you, drawing you close as the two of you sit on the futon.

"It's nice to be home," he says so softly, his eyes filled with oceans of love as they gaze into your own.

"Good to be back," he murmurs, squeezing your hand.

You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, which is nice and steady. It's good to have him back, wrapped in safe arms—the familiar strength that held you and solaced you in lovely serenity, security, and warmth.

"I'm so glad you're safe," you whisper. "I'll always come back to you," he murmurs against your forehead. He tails a gentle hand across your back, that simplest of touches making your spine tingle. He tips up your chin, and his eyes meet in yours—a dark swirl that has your heart racing; deep, burning intensity. "Don't know how much I've missed you," he murmurs quietly.

His hand strays to your waist and tugs you in closer, the flush rising to your cheeks as you feel the strength of his body pressing on you in the now nonexistent distance.

"Gyomei, I missed you so much too," you say almost inaudibly, above a whisper.

His lips touch yours and linger, starting a soft, languorous kiss that quickly turns carnal and full of need. His hands stroke reverentially over your body, and with each stroke, your thoughts fill with want. You respond fluidly, your hands kneading the unyielding muscles of his back as you savor his touch.

His lips find yours, pressing them into a soft and slow kiss, which quickly changes to a deep one, full of longing. His hands slide down.

Gyomei withdrew from the kiss, kissing down your neck as his breath burned on your skin. He said, "You are everything to me," in a want-filled deep voice.

Your body ached for more of his heat as you arched into his touch. With one hand tangled in his hair, you mumbled, "Can I…?"

"You could, dear," he replied.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[kiwifruitnumberone]

Ran Haitani Headcanons

This might be so ass since I wrote this at 1:00am💔

These are some of my favorite Ran Haitani headcanons I think about this man all day it's actually unhealthy.

Sfw and Nsfw

Warnings: Smutish??, Fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of weed kind of, oral, aftercare, mentions of stacking donuts on it. I think thats it??

Sfw

—Lovessss to cuddle with you, since he's such a heavy sleeper I feel he’d love to cuddle and just sleep with you. 

—The type to smile randomly when thinking about you, like he’d zone out and just start smiling like a weirdo. Rindou gets concerned. 

—Soooo good at comforting, I feel like because he took care of Rindou most of his life he’s probably had to comfort him a few times. 

—Many people headcanon him as someone who would cheat, but I think he would be loyal to you considering his loyalty to his brother, Izana, and Kakucho.

—Doesn’t get into many relationships so when he does he makes sure it’s something worthwhile, like a life long partner and not just a fling.

—Lovessss when you spill tea, he’s fully invested and going to take your side every time. I can fully imagine him saying

“What a bitch” at the top of his lungs when you tell him someone did you dirty. 

—Would love to get matching tattoos with you, with a significant meaning for you two. 

—Teases you constantly but knows when to stop so he doesn’t go overboard and accidentally offend you or upset you. 

—I feel like he would vape or smoke a blunt when he can’t sleep, it helps him relax. 

—Spoils you loadsss, he’ll literally give you his card to go shopping and doesn’t gaf about how much you spend. Will ask you for a fashion show later if you bought clothes. 

—Petty ASF about his hair, he’ll let you do it sometimes but if it’s not how he wants it, he’ll take it out and redo it immediately. 

—Serial Yapper, you better be a good listener. This man will talk to you for hours at a time about his day or just random shit that’s irrelevant but regardless wants you to know anyway.

—Sweet treat lover.  Has a big sweet tooth and has a dedicated time in the day just for a sweet treat. (me too)

—Like a best friend in way’s but more. He wants you and his relationship to get to a very comfortable stage, comfortable enough to tell each other everything and anything. 

—Has a joined playlist with you. 

NSFW

—NOT vanilla at all, he's down to do anything, you wanna stack donuts on it?? Go for it he does not mind. 

—Will keep going until you're overstimulated— He will push your limits.  One round. Nah. Two? Will keep going until you're shaking and can’t catch your breath properly. 

—Gives the BEST head, will have you throwing you head back, arching your back, moaning his name. Will eat you out like your the last meal on earth and he’s STARVING.

—Loves when you wear lacy shit. Will rip it off of you in SECONDS. 

—LOVES it when you pull his hair, he is so into that shit.

—He likes to be in control but if he’s feeling lazy he’ll let you take control and do whatever you want.

—Morning sex is one of his favourite things. Lazy slow thrusts while you moan his name quietly. Immediate yes.

—Soooo good at making out, the tension from the make-out sesh is sometimes better than the actual sex.

—Gentle aftercare, will clean you up, help you get changed, order food, watch shows or just cuddle. Makes sure you feel loved and appreciated afterwards.

Sorry for the ass nsfw headcanons I'm so tired and I really couldn't be bothered💔

IM FEINING FOR HIM HOLY SHIT

In my euphoria x Tokyo revengers fanfic I’m not sure whether to make it an reader x ran or reader x mikey or another character