#and who will never see one another again after this

[7nuh]

WAS IT 'CASUAL' WHEN...? — TWST 1ST YEARS

Headcanons on the 'casual' things you do with him that made him wish that there was something more between you.

CW 𓂃 sfw, gn!reader, reader is implied to fit in Deuce's clothes in his part, pining

CHARAS 𓂃 Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, Epel Felmier, and Sebek Zigvolt

AN 𓂃 mostly* edited now 😎👍

ACE TRAPPOLA — you slept in the same bed?

Ramshackle isn't exactly known for having the best facilities or furniture, and that is a fact Ace has to make peace with whenever he gets kicked out by Riddle. It's always a little too chilly at night and the floors still creak beneath his feet. Even with a makeover, half of the beds are broken and that stiff couch downstairs is your next best bet at getting some semblance of sleep.

You insisted you really didn't mind sharing a bed at all and Ace took you up on your offer. In his words, "if you say so then!" Just create an invisible partition down the middle and the two of you should be fine. Sure, yeah, that'll be infinitely more comfortable than the couch, and Ace absolutely agrees. He repeats the thought to himself over and over again— this is supposedly the better alternative, isn't it?

Yeah, totally. He tries to convince himself that it's really not a big deal for him to be inches away from you at night and feel your warmth spreading through the sheets. God, you'd think he's a weirdo if you woke up and caught him staring right now, but he could always twist it into a dumb joke about your sleeping face looking like an ogre. Consequently, he would have to watch your face twist in annoyance and pretend he wasn't watching every rise and fall of your chest. He would rather lose his magic entirely than admit the ugly truth and make himself vulnerable to you.

Ace does realize he's being embarrassingly sappy and romantic, and he's disgusted at himself for these thoughts, but he can't help it. He can't change the fact your lips look so soft and your eyelashes are so pretty. This is freaking him out so much more than it should. Does this really mean nothing to you? Do really only see him as a friend? Fine, then the two of you are just friends sharing a bed then!

It's really nothing! Ace was the one who joked about it months ago, after all. But things (and his feelings) have changed and he cannot ignore that. Back then it wouldn't have been such a big deal, but now it is and he cannot calm his heart down no matter how hard he tries.

You're right there. It's not the first time he had to share a bed with someone but it's different now because it's you. He did the math and the two of you are only 10 inches apart. Ace almost reaches for you in his weakest moment until he remembers that the two of you are supposedly just two friends sharing a bed. You're doing him a favor by sheltering him for the night, that's all.

Ace retracts his hand right away at the very last second. He might have as well taken the goddamn couch (lest either of you wake up in each other's arms).

DEUCE SPADE — he lent his clothes?

You came here with next to nothing. You had exactly one change of clothes and pocket lint for change, so Deuce, being the righteous and honorable student that he is, decided to lend you some of his clothes for the meantime. It's what a good friend would do! It's a temporary arrangement that would last only until Crowley spares enough change for you to buy another set of uniforms.

But this arrangement drags on for so long even when you have a functional closet and multiple sets of better-fitting clothes. Deuce never really noticed until recently that a third of your (albeit very limited) wardrobe actually belongs to him. But whenever you tug on his sleeves for his latest sweater, he doesn't have the heart to tell you no.

When he went home during break, his mom even noticed that certain sweaters and shirts had gone missing. "I left them at the college," he tells her as to not worry her. It's technically the truth— it's back with you in the college (and you're probably wearing them right now; the mental image is enough to fluster him all of the sudden when it never did before). He has to get them back eventually since those clothes are his. He's sure you wouldn't mind? Right?

Simply asking for them back is the difficult part for Deuce. You're there in front of him wearing one of his older shirts that fit snugly around your figure and he's at a loss for words. It's worn down and outright hideous as hell but the very first thought that comes to mind is that you look good in it.

Ah, yeah. You walk around campus on non-school days wearing his clothes 1/3rd of the time and nobody else knows that those jackets and shirts and sweaters and button-ups are all his. You make even the ugliest ones look good, or maybe it's because you're the wearer and you always looked good to him? Do his eyes need to be checked...? Deuce is tortured by these thoughts while merrily go about your day. You're laughing at something stupid that Grim said and he can't hear anything else. There's a fight in the courtyard but he can't see anything else. There's a midterm tomorrow but he can't think of anything else. You're too distracting.

When you finally do remember to return a shirt or two, Deuce tells you there's really no need to return them. He insists that they're better off with you, but you laugh and remind him that you're no longer the same pathetic charity case you were at the start of the year.

The truth is, your scent still lingers on recently returned shirts. It's the closest he'll get to being skin-to-skin with you, and Deuce is supposed to ignore that but he cannot. Or maybe he's the only one making this weird for the two of you because it doesn't seem to bother you in the slightest (and he's bothered by that).

But when Deuce looks at the recently returned shirts in his hands, he hopes he has a chance. He hopes you think of him as much as he thinks of you. He hopes the odds of him not actually liking you after all make your guts churn and set butterflies in your chest at the same time. He hopes he isn't the only one yearning for used shirts, lingering scents, and ghost touches. But at the same time, you've only ever asked these kinds of favors from him... Deuce doesn't want to assume anything, but a blush creeps upon his cheeks all the same and he continues to hope for more.

JACK HOWL — you played with his ears and tail?

Beastmen weren't a thing back in your world, so seeing them regularly made you morbidly curious about their animalistic features. Jack was easily the best candidate to satisfy your intrusive thoughts because just who else could you ask about this? Leona wasn't exactly an option and Ruggie might rope you into some scheme of his. And Jack owed you a favor, after all, so this is what you decided to ask of him.

Jack's ears twitched— did he hear you correctly? His face scrunches up in confusion because you barely knew each other for you to be asking something like this. How could you ask something so personal from him? It's in your innocently eager expression that he realizes what's going on... you just didn't know. Fine, it should mean nothing to you and thus he agrees to let you pet his tail and ears for five seconds. Maximum.

It's supposed to be a one time thing but he finds him involuntarily offering up his tail whenever you look him like that. He's not even sure how it got to this point. After all, there are romantic connotations of having your tail petted by someone else and... nevermind. Ruggie and Leona have started simultaneously teasing him over it the very moment they caught wind of this peculiar arrangement. It doesn't help that Jack's tail is particularly sensitive and reactive, but he keeps a straight face no matter how much it embarrasses him.

Jack doesn't understand why you're so fascinated by his tail and ears because there are so many others just like him. However, he supposes it's not an entirely terrible feeling, though, to have your fingers absentmindedly rake across his tail and hair as the two of you study. It's relaxing, even, but he won't tell you that. Jack will never tell you that it gives him goosebumps all over and makes him shiver whenever you play with his tail. Or that he's begun wondering what it would be like to have your hands elsewhere, or for him to touch you in similar ways in return.

He doesn't understand why he craves your company but doesn't question it either. All he knows is that your hands are so soft and gentle and that he likes the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you smile in satisfaction. And when you hum a soft tune as the gap between the two of you closes, he wonders if he's the only one feeling this tension.

"Again?" Jack huffs. The pretext of this being a silly favor has been long forgotten. He should probably tell you soon that you shouldn't be doing this, but you just look so pleased with yourself when the two of settle down in a lesser-known corner of the library. The routine persists, the cycle continues. Hours later, the both of you have gone through multiple bags of chips, two movies on his laptop, and his tail is now comfortably curled around your abdomen as you read a book and he tends to his beloved cactus.

Again? Jack silently asks himself whenever he sees your face in a crowd. Could the two of you spend hours in a comfortable silence while the unsaid implications haunt him? He's started to ask himself— were you just playing dumb at this point or just plain stupid? Or what if you had known all along and the two of you were just dancing around it?

EPEL FELMIER — you kissed him?

Epel eventually learns to use the way others perceive him to his advantage; there's strength in appearing to be weak and striking when the iron is hot. Still, he couldn't help but wish to be seen for his talents and strength instead of his beauty at the first glance. The first assumption everyone makes of him, for god's sake, is that he's a fragile little thing from a rich family, and, quite frankly, he's sick of it.

So he's secretly delighted when none of his charms worked on you and you yank him by the ear for even attempting. A few curse words and rough shoves later, both of you are on the floor, grappling and wrestling against each other. The two of you are laughing so hard and swearing so loudly that you'll probably wake up the rest of Pomefiore at this rate, but neither of you care. It's just the two of you right now grasping at each other like your life depended on it.

It's a nice change of pace to be openly exchanging insults instead of restraining himself. He enjoys the comfortable rhythm the two of you share— from all the brawls and the bantering and the hugs and to the kisses on the cheek. Yes, kisses. They started as simple thank you's after a few favors here and there, and just one of them is enough to make a mess out of Epel for weeks. Better yet, you only seem to be showering him with more and more of your attention and he relishes in it.

Ah, things are finally working out for him! He found someone he could confide in and he's sure that there's a spark between the two of you. By the end of the year, he might have someone to bring home and brag about to his relatives—

All the momentum halts when he sees you across the hall granting the rest of your friends the same levels of affection. From all the brawls to the bantering to the hugs and the kisses, none of those were ever solely his to take delight upon. It doesn't matter that he opened up to you about all his fears and insecurities because he was never special. You were just the kind of person who got along and felt comfortable with everyone around you, but Epel hates that he has no one to blame but himself. He willingly walked your warmth but it was never his to take.

It finally dawns upon him that you have never seen him in a romantic light and that was why you were so comfortable around him. In retrospect, the bond you two shared was more sibling-like than anything— and believe him when he says he's incredibly grateful that the two of you were that close —but it doesn't make it hurt any less to know that your affections never carried any romantic intentions after he had pinned for you for so long.

Even when he takes a step back, you're cruel in a roundabout way by continuing to be so kind and loving towards him. How was Epel supposed to make sense of your relationship after realizing he misunderstood you...?

And he also hates to admit this, but his self-confidence takes a huge blow from this. Epel genuinely thought he could be loved for who he was based on the time you spent together. It gnaws at him and eats him alive to finally know the truth, and sometimes he wishes he never found out at all.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT — you wrote him love letters?

So, Sebek asked (demanded) to be penpals...

It's all because Lilia told him it would be a good exercise of diplomacy, he insisted. As the young master's bodyguard, he will have to be as courteous as possible even in unpleasant company. He also rationalized, admittedly partly because of you, that forging bonds with magicless humans may be a worthwhile endeavor after all! It's all rather suspicious (and you suspect his real intentions have something to do with your friendship with Malleus), but Sebek has never been one to lie about his intentions. If anything, the popular opinion was that he's a little too honest and should learn a thing or two about holding back.

There's something very unconventional in sending handwritten letters in this day and age of modern technology, but also something very romantic and fantastical— much like the many fictional knights he had read about. It helps a lot that he's not directly confronted by the fact you are very much a magicless human who shouldn't be in NRC whenever he spills out his heart's contents unto multiple pages. It was a way for him to release his frustrations, celebrate his achievements, and talk about the dull, little things thats happened in his day-to-day life to someone who listened.

And listen you did. Turns out, when you're not subjected to his 1000 decibel shouting, Sebek is a rather earnest guy who worked hard and acknowledged others who also worked equally as hard no matter their disposition. To say the least, you understand why Lilia found it so entertaining to tease him.

It completely flies over his head that you had been flirting with him for months through these letters. Your everyday interactions with each other had been completely normal, so how was he supposed to notice?! It takes multiple rereads and many late-night discussions with the other Diasomnia dormers to decode and understand all the double entendres and hidden 'i love you's' in each and every letter. It was so needlessly difficult, but Lilia laughs in his face and pats him at the back for a job well-done.

"There's no way," he thinks to himself late at night and finds himself doubting Lilia's claims for once. But when Sebek steals a glance in your direction and you smile back in return, he's never felt weaker in his knees. You're absolutely and undeniably magic-less... but somehow you had casted a spell that made his chest tighten and shut him up. He hadn't even realized how much time he was spending with you and thinking about you when he wasn't.

Except nothing has changed in-person. You're acting like you hadn't meticulously hidden your affections for him in those letters, and he was starting to seriously doubt all of it. Yeah, were you event smart enough to pull off all that? As some magic-less human?

Actually... Sebek realizes that you are capable of outsmarting him after getting to know you much better through those letters. He's never been one to deny where credit it was due. Now, Sebek's just deeply ashamed that he failed to accurately assess your character before making judgements based on superficial traits. He knows better than anyone that you're witty, charming, brave, kind, beautiful, ambitious—

Oh no.

Oh no.

Sebek simply explodes on the spot once he realizes that he had been oblivious to his own feelings for you too. He had thoroughly examined every aspect of this conundrum except from within. Quite embarrassing from an esteemed knight of the prince of nocturnal fae to be this slow, really.

[sinofwriting]

Sex Positive - Charles Leclerc

Words: 2,470 Summary: Y/N goes on a podcast to talk about one thing and one thing only, sex. Note(s): NSFW just because this is just all sex talk, no actual sex, but it is the main topic of discussion. Part SMAU

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Y/N Y/L/N”

She smiles at the sound of her name, adjusting her headphones a bit until they finally seem to sit snug on her head.

“Welcome to the sex positive podcast.”

“Thank you for having me!”

“Thank you for coming on!” Elaine says. “When I reached out, I had hoped you would come on, but was shocked when you said yes.”

“I had to come on. We’ve known each other now for like two years?” Elaine nods at her words. “And yet despite that and this podcast doing so well, which by the way congrats on the new milestone. 250k is insane, and your profession we’ve never once talked about sex.”

“We have not.” Elaine laughs. “Probably because we also run into each other at events and dinners. Not the best place for me to ask how you feel about sex.”

“Well, I should tell you, I am coming on here to actually talk about how much I hate sex.” She says, ending her sentence with an eye roll, as she adjusts how she’s sitting, not even noticing her cardigan slip.

“Oh, yeah.” Elaine nods. “You hate sex.” She then nods to her left shoulder and her eyes drop and she lets out a laugh, seeing the love bites now exposed from the cardigan slipping.

“Like I said, I hate it.” She laughs.

“How is your relationship with sex? I mean, what has your experience been with it?”

She considers for a moment, “I’d say I have a good relationship with sex. It was never a topic that was shied away from when I was younger. My parents both gave me the talk, they made sure that I felt safe and comfortable to talk to them about it. They also never shied away from talking about how they had sex before they were adults, so if I did, they understood. All they asked was that I was safe.”

“And you think that’s helped?”

“Of course.” She nods. “I mean, I was sixteen when I had sex for the first time. Which was before all my friends and after that I was the one my girl friends came to for condoms and advice.”

“Was it good?”

She makes a face, “I mean, I think it was as good as two sixteen-year-olds having sex for the first time can be. A little awkward, some fumbling, finishing so quick.”

Elaine laughs, “Y’know that probably is as good as it can get.”

“Yeah.” She laughs.

“Were you like okay, I had sex this first time, I’ve experienced it, I’m good, or was it like me where you wanted to explore more.”

“Oh, I wanted to explore more. I didn’t have sex again for, I think like another two years. But I did so much self exploring. Just trying to see what I liked, what I was interested in, what I wasn’t interested in.”

“Porn?”

“Yes, there was quite a large amount of porn being watched. I read a lot of adult novels, guides, blogs, really just anything I could get my hands on.”

Elaine nods, tucking a leg underneath herself as she adjusts the microphone to be a little closer. “And this is something I’m curious about, how do you feel about porn? It’s something a lot of people are divided on, a lot of women especially.”

“I like porn. I enjoy it. Either just watching for pleasure or for research.” And she puts the last word in air quotes. “And please people listening or watching, if you see something you like in porn or are interested in, and this applies if you are reading something as well, look it up, read some guides and blog posts about it before doing it yourself. Just be safe.”

“Oh, please be safe. We have our own blog where we talk about different kinks, positions, various things and I urge you, along with everyone else who works on this podcast, to be safe with yourself and others.” Elaine says, addressing the camera before looking back at her. “So, you like porn.”

“Yes. Obviously not all porn is good, there are bad studios, there are overdone tropes, issues with the industry itself with it continuing to promote certain things because it earns them so much money. But I do enjoy it. It’s an industry that is always going to get criticized and hated and it deserves some of those criticisms without a doubt.”

“As a sex therapist, I do try to veer my clients away from porn, most of the time. And that’s mainly due to the acting of it. But it has its place in helping you learn and educate yourself. My issue is when people only look at porn and don’t look into things further.”

“Yeah, a hundred percent. It’s so important to not just take away things from porn but to take things away and expand on what you saw.” She nods.

“And of course I have to ask, what do you yourself like to watch in porn?”

“Hmm.” She thinks. “I think it depends on my mood. I think what I normally go for is something a little more rough. I’ve never really enjoyed watching people have like slow, gentle sex, not unless there’s something else there like overstimulation.”

“So, you like it rough?” Elaine asks.

She laughs, “Yes. It wasn’t something I had ever tried out before though until my current partner.”

“Really?”

She nods, “Really! I can admit that with my current partner, Charles, is where I’ve done a lot of exploring with someone else sexually. We’ve tried out many things.”

“Anything you guys didn’t like?”

“We don’t care for titles or honorifics.”

“You are crushing some dreams with that statement.”

“I know.” She laughs, well aware of the many tweets and things about wanting to call Charles daddy or sir. But it was just something that didn’t work for them in bed. The most was sometimes as a tease, she’d call him Mr. Leclerc and that was mainly to wind him up, not because the word itself was a turn on.

“What about things you’ve both enjoyed?”

“Oh, where to begin.” She teases, the both of them laughing. “Roleplay is one, bondage, edging, overstimulation. And I don’t consider this sex, but it is something we both enjoy a lot, cock warming.”

“That is quite the list.”

“Oh, just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Talk me through some of it. Bondage?”

“Yes. This was something we both had come into the relationship having never done before and wanting to do. We have the actual like rope you're supposed to use for when we do it, though sometimes we have used other things.”

Elaine shakes her head, grinning. “Of course you two have. I feel like if I see you two together, you’re always attached.”

“Pretty much. We both enjoy touch and Charles, despite all the interest in his personal life and how much already is exposed to the public, doesn't mind holding my hand or hugging or kissing me while in public.”

“Was that a worry of yours?” Elaine asks.

“Absolutely.” She nods, fingers interlacing. “I knew he’d at least, when I went to my first race, that he’d hold my hand, but I figured that might be it. And I didn’t want to bring it up since me going to Baku was so last minute for the both of us.”

“I’ve seen photos from that race and I would have never guessed that it was a last minute decision or that you two hadn’t talked about that yet.”

“Yeah, I got on a plane and was there by 11pm on Wednesday night, and the plane tickets had gotten bought maybe six hours before the plane took off. Charles had to send a photo of my ID to the front desk and had a spare key for me waiting since he had to be asleep already.”

“And then the next day, I mean you guys were very loved up.”

She grins, “we very much were. I think Charles knew I was nervous. We hadn’t officially been spotted together and he’s such a comforting person, very calming, so it was easy to not feel anxious with him holding me and pressing a kiss to my cheek every few minutes as y’know a bunch of people were taking photos of me and I’m being introduced to about a hundred people.”

“Which is overwhelming to say the least.”

“So overwhelming.” She nods.

“Though you might’ve liked that, since you’ve brought up overstimulation a few times.”

Her hands come up to hide her face, laughing into them, before they fall back into her lap. “I’d apologize, but I like what I like.”

“So it’s you being overstimulated.”

“Oh, absolutely. I find it very enjoyable.”

“I’ve never actually really talked about overstimulation, what is that you like about it? That you find to be enjoyable?”

“It’s the near constant feeling of too much, it’s so much pleasure just back to back, and everything depending on how you're doing it, can feel just like raw? And exposed? And you don’t think you can orgasm one more time, you just can’t again, but then you can and it feels at least in my experience just so good and then you do it again and again, and every time the pleasure of it just washing over you is even more and more and it’s the only thing you can focus on, everything else just fades away.”

“You make me want to try it.” Elaine laughs.

—

Charles’ head immediately perks up when he hears the hotel door open. “Chérie! How was the podcast?”

She smiles, setting her bag down, before moving over to the couch where Charles is sitting and happily sitting in his lap before Charles can pull her down. “It was good.” She finally says after kissing him.

He hums, “How good?”

She thinks, playfully humming as her fingers run through his hair. “Very good. I think your fans will want to kill me and so will Ferrari.”

He frowns, arms tightening around her. “Ferrari knows that you are allowed to do as you’d like. It is not like with,” He stops himself.

“I know, Charles.” She soothes. “But, they will be upset with me considering me talking about my sex life is talking about your sex life.”

He huffs, obviously not liking it, but he hopes that the podcast will do well, be received well, so at least Ferrari will be forced to accept it because fans like it.

“Did you mention me?”

Her eyebrow raises, “No. I want on a podcast to talk about my sex life so you obviously didn’t come up.”

He pouts at the tease and she can’t resist pressing a kiss to his pouty lips.

“Yes, I mentioned you. Multiple times and by name.”

He hums, moving his hands under her cardigan and top. “What did you say?”

“That we’ve done a lot of things together. That we like certain things.”

When she had accepted the invite it was only after a long talk with Charles, one she had to force, to go over what she could and couldn’t mention. Charles had been fine with her mentioning whatever she wanted. Uncaring that it would be out for the world to see, his colleagues, friends, and even family if for some reason they decided to click on it. He had stuck by that after their talk, though had asked her to keep most of the details of their roleplay and their love of rough sex to a minimum.

And it had been easy to not talk about what kind of roleplay they did and while rough sex had been mentioned twice, they were brief, just establishing her love of it.

“It did make me want to roleplay our favorite thing again.”

His eyes light up at her words.

It wasn’t often something they did, their favorite roleplay scenario, not when it required her to be in a certain headspace to really work, but she wants and craves it so much.

“You want to be my innocent little girl?” His voice has a bit of rasp, his fingers resting on her back, stretching out.

“Yes.” She breathes.

He leans forward, giving her a hungry kiss, his and her last chance to lose control, before pulling away. “Go get ready for me, bébé. I’ll find a place to have dinner.”

---

[agxxb]

Prettier Than a Star (pt2) .𖥔 ݁ ˖

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: after you and rafe hooked up, he couldn’t stop thinking about you… good thing you couldn’t get him out of your mind either.

warnings: smut. fluff. rafe is a sweetheart & lowkey whipped for reader. possessive!rafe. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), vaginal fingering. use of pet names (baby, babe, sweetheart). praise. best friend’s brother. one mention of y/n. [3k]

read part one here!

Rafe had spent the past few days thinking about you. He couldn’t get you out of his head, couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked, the way you felt, the way you sounded. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, every time he touched his skin, he felt your hands.

But it wasn’t just lust. He tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself that it was just a fling, that it was nothing more than physical, but there was something about you that he just couldn’t get out of his head, that he couldn’t shake off.

He had tried to stay away, to put some distance between you, but he couldn’t get you out of his mind. You were like a drug: addictive, intoxicating, all-consuming — and he needed another hit. He tried to distract himself, tried to keep himself busy, but it was no use. You were under his skin, invading his thoughts, making him feel things he didn't even know he could feel. He had never felt this way about anyone before, a need so intense it was like you were a narcotic.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Sarah asked her brother as she entered the kitchen, heading towards the fridge to grab a cold bottle of water.

Her voice startled Rafe, the boy looking up from his laptop with wide eyes. He relaxed after seeing who it was, scowling and moving his attention back to the bright screen in front of him.

“Nothin’,” he muttered gruffly, but the tension in his body betrayed him, his jaw tight.

He didn't want to talk, didn't want to explain why he was in such a bad mood, because she still didn’t know about what had happened between the both of you. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear indifferent, but he couldn't hide his irritability.

Sarah knew not to push Rafe’s buttons, knowing she could be on the receiving end if he snapped, but she also knew him well enough to know that ‘nothing’ was almost always something. She simply hummed in response, taking a sip of her water and looking at him over the bottle.

Rafe shot his sister a glare, his irritation growing. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

Before Sarah could reply, his phone buzzed. Glancing down at the device, his finger hovered over the new message.

𝙉𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝘽𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙚𝙣?

Rafe’s eyes widened once again, though this time it was in surprise. He hadn’t expected to hear from you, let alone receive a message asking to meet up. He clicked on the notification, thumbs tapping away at the screen as he quickly wrote out a reply and sent it.

Shutting his laptop – and not bothering to turn it off – he stood from his place at the kitchen island and put his phone in the front pocket of his jeans.

Rafe's reaction to the text message did not go unnoticed by Sarah, she couldn't help but feel intrigued, tilting her head slightly in curiosity. "Who was that?"

“None of your business,” he said, tone somewhat harsh. However, he knew that was a lie. With you being her best friend, Sarah had every right to know… but he couldn’t tell her.

Your hands shook as you typed out the message. You hadn’t stopped thinking about Rafe since his party: the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he sounded… You knew you shouldn’t be feeling the way you did, but you couldn’t help it — and that only added to the guilt you felt.

Your heart raced as you awaited his response. You couldn't shake the feeling that clawed at hour stomach, couldn't ignore the little voice in your head telling you that what you was doing was wrong. The guilt you felt when you thought about Sarah, his sister, your best friend, only made everything worse. You knew that you were crossing a line that you shouldn’t, that you were betraying her, but you couldn’t help it.

You felt something for him, and you needed to know if it was reciprocated.

A few moments went by without any word from him, and you began to regret sending the message. Just as you went to delete it, your phone dinged — a new message. You picked it up, seeing Rafe’s name on your screen with his response below it.

𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣.

When you read his reply, a flutter of excitement washed over you, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. You put your phone down and took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You knew you should be feeling penitent, but all you could feel was excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.

Ten minutes felt like ten hours as you waited anxiously, tapping your fingers against your thigh out of habit. You didn’t know what to expect, what to say, how to act, but you knew that you needed to see him, needed to talk to him.

About fifteen minutes went by before you heard a knock at your door, your heart leaping into your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and stood up slowly. Every step you took towards the door felt like an eternity, your legs feeling weak, your knees like jelly. You reached for the handle, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

You could feel the tension in the air, the electricity between you. For a moment, neither of you said anything, you just stood there, looking at each other. Finally, he spoke up, breaking the silence.

"Hey.” His voice was low and rough, though simultaneously soft and affectionate.

"Hi," you replied, doing your best to keep your voice steady. "Come in."

Rafe gave you a small smile as he stepped through the doorway, his body moving with confident grace. You closed the door behind him, feeling his presence fill the small space, consuming you completely.

He stood there with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders relaxed, expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything, just watched you with an intensity that made your heart race.

You lead him up to your bedroom, not wanting a million and one questions if your parents ended up coming back whilst he was at yours. As soon as you walked through the door, he closed it behind him, almost trapping you in with him. The space suddenly felt small and intimate, filled with the tension that crackled between you.

You walked over to sit on your bed, watching him glance around your bedroom. It was the first time a boy had ever seen your room, and you were somehow comfortable with it, despite knowing your parents would freak out.

Rafe took in every detail of your room: the soft, floral-patterned duvet on the bed, the fluffy pillows, the framed photos of you and your family… He couldn’t explain the feeling in his chest as he looked around, a strange mixture of possessiveness and belonging.

“It’s very you,” he said as he turned around, his gaze finally landing on you, sitting on the bed, your legs crossed in front of you. A small smile found home on his lips as he spoke, and you blushed a little at his words, his observation.

"You think so?" you asked, your voice soft as your eyes met his. You couldn’t help but return the gesture, a gentle smile of your own curving your lips. Rafe nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep himself from reaching out and touching you.

He walked over to you, sitting down on the side of the bed, in front of you. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "Why’d you ask me to come over?"

The question he ask brought back the nervousness you were feeling earlier, and you hesitated for a moment before responding. "I… I needed to talk to you," you said, your voice quiet but steady.

“So talk.”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. You’d wanted to talk to him, but now that he was here, sitting in front of you, waiting for you to say something, you felt a little unsure of yourself.

“I think…” you began, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You took another deep breath before your rambling started. “I think I like you. Well, I’m pretty sure I do, but I’m scared because I overthink a lot. I can’t stop thinking about how I’m basically betraying Sarah and if you didn’t feel the same way, I could ruin two friendships that I really cherish all because I-”

Before you could continue, you felt his lips on yours, cutting off your endless string of words.

Rafe had watched as you rambled, his expression softening ever so slightly. He had expected a lot of things when you asked him to come over, but admitting to liking him hadn’t been one of them.

The moment his lips touched yours, all your thoughts vanished, replaced by the intense sensations flooding through you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, all you could do was feel. His palms were against your cheek, his thumbs gently stroking your jaw, whilst your hands found their place on his wrists.

He pulled away just enough to speak, his voice a rough whisper. “You need to stop talking, babe.” The nickname, coupled with his gravelly voice and intense gaze, sent a shiver of pleasure through your body. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the party.”

His eyes were full of affection as he looked at you, a gentle smile on his face that held nothing but adoration. He ran his fingers along your jawline, tracing your features like they were delicate, something to be treasured.

“Really?” you asked, voice but a whisper and laced with surprise and curiosity.

Rafe slowly dragged his thumb over your lower lip, his touch gentle. “You’ve got no idea what you’ve been doing to me,” he said, voice softer than you had ever heard it. “Can’t think straight when I’m around you. Can’t concentrate on anything else but you.”

Your made him feel strangely vulnerable, a feeling he wasn't used to, but at the same time, he found that he didn't mind it that much. He was so used to being used, being treated like a prize to be won or an accessory to be flaunted. But now, with you, he found that he actually wanted more than just a meaningless fling.bHe didn't know how to handle these new feelings, but one thing was sure — he wasn't going to mess it up.

You suddenly leaned down and captured his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You didn’t verbally agree on what this meant for you both, but you didn’t need to. You deserved so much more than someone like him, but he wanted you, and he didn't want to let you go.

Rafe Cameron wanted to be selfish — an action he was used to.

He moaned against your mouth, one of his hands leaving your face and moving down to your waist, gently squeezing. His body twisted round slightly, his front now facing you as he leaned closer to you and deepening the kiss.

The sound of his moan sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a sense of pride that you could make him feel something. His hand on your waist was firm, almost possessive as he squeezed, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes.

His tongue ran along your lower lip, silently asking for access, and you parted your lips for him, allowing him to explore your mouth. The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, and you soon found yourself with your head on your pillow, Rafe hovering above you.

Rafe groaned against your lips as your leg brushed against his hardening cock, the feeling sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you, his voice low and guttural as he spoke. "You feel that? You feel what you do to me?"

Rafe’s lips trailed down over your jawline, down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and small love bites as he went. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, breath hot against her skin. “And I’d tell you every day… if you’ll have me.”

You nodded, filled with emotion at his sweet way of asking. “Every day sounds good to me.” Placing your hands against his cheeks and bringing his face back to yours, you captured his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You let out a soft moan against Rafe’s lips.

He loved the sounds that escaped your lips and the way you arched into his touch. It fueled his desire for you even more, knowing that he was the one making you feel this way.

He kisses across your cheek before he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips trailing kisses down your sensitive flesh, his free hand roaming down your body. You giggled as he did so, bringing your hands up to rest on his back. "That tickles!"

He continued his assault on your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and love bites across your sensitive skin. A low, gravelly chuckle vibrated from his throat as he heard you giggle, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his rough, deep voice low in your ear as his lips moved to another sensitive spot, his tongue darting out to tease your skin.

Your giggles turned into a soft moan, your eyes closing as you relished in the pleasure Rafe was giving you. He licked and sucked on you skin, leaving his mark on your neck — letting every one know who you belong to: Rafe Cameron.

Rafe lowered his hand from your waist, his fingers working deftly against the buttons of your shirts before his hand reached in. You moaned as his thumb came into contact with your puffy clit, biting your lip as your head tilted back.

Rafe moved away from your neck, eyes flickering down your lips. “Nuh uh, Sweetheart. Wanna hear you.” You let your lip go, letting it bounce softly back into place. “Good girl.”

Your eyes rolled back when you felt two of his fingers enter you, stretching you out. You were so wet, they slid in easily, not a sting of pain in sight. “Fuck!” you moaned when he curled them, his fingertips rubbing against that spot inside you.

Rafe suddenly reached up and cupped your face in one hand, his thumb stroking gently over your cheek, "Look at me,” he ordered, though his voice held no bitterness. You did as was told, looking up into his blue eyes whilst yours watered in pleasured. “That’s it, baby. Feel good?”

“So good,” you whispered, hand squeezing his bicep.

Rafe’s movements suddenly stopped and you whined in disappointment. “When I ask you a question, I expect to hear the answer.”

“Feels so good, Rafe,” you spoke louder, a moan quickly following as he started fucking you with his fingers. “So fucking good…”

“You belong to me,” Rafe mumbled, seemingly to himself despite also talking to you. He wasn't used to ever being possessive, especially over a person, but the thought of you belonging to anyone else pissed him off. “Say it. Say you belong to me.”

“I belong to you, Rafe,” you cried out, looking up at the man above you and his fingers moved faster. “I’m yours.”

“Damn fucking right you are.”

Rafe suddenly removed his fingers and got off your bed to unbuckle his belt. The clanging caught your attention, and your mouth watered as you watched him pull it from the loops of his jeans — which were next to leave, his shirt following after.

He crawled back over you, claiming your mouth with his as he kissed you deeply. His hand moved to your bottoms, hooking his fingers on the edge and pulling both your shorts and underwear down at the same time. He pressed his forehead to yours. “You want this?”

“So badly,” you begged, nodding against him. Your hands came back up to his back — touching the bare skin this time. “Please, baby.”

"Yeah?” Rafe placed his hands on your stomach, pushing your top up as his hands went higher. He cupped your tits, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You nodded again, reaching a hand down to stroke his cock, thumb rubbing over the head to collect the pre-cum. His eyes fluttered closed, a moan leaving him. “Fuck.”

He gently slapped your hand away, replacing it with his own and guiding himself to your entrance. Your eyes rolled back when he pushed forward, sinking into your warmth. Your nails dug into his biceps as he pulled back, only to thrust back into you.

“Damn," he groaned. "You feel so good, baby. So damn good.” He rested his forehead on yours again, watching himself disappear into you with every movement of his hips, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he felt you, all of you.

One of his hands moved to your throat, adding just enough pressure — the way you like. “Just like that,” you moaned, your legs wrapped around his waist so he could go deeper, ankles crossed at his lower back.

Rafe wanted to see your face while he was inside you, wanted to see the look on your face as he made you feel nothing but pleasure. He used the hand around your throat to nudge your chin upwards, you getting the hint. You did as he wanted, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. He groaned as he looked at your face, his eyes roaming over your features, taking in every little expression, every little sound that escaped your lips.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his hips speeding up, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. He suddenly pressed his lips to your neck as he mumbled against your skin, "God, I can't get enough of you."

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, the sensations mounting as he continued to move with you, his force gradually increasing. He nipped at your skin, his teeth sinking in just enough to leave a small mark. He wanted to claim you, to mark you as his, to leave a physical reminder that you belonged to him.

"Need you to fill me up," you moaned, pleading with him. It was a need, not a want. She loved feeling him cum inside her last time, and she didn’t know how she went so long without it. "Please."

His breath caught in his throat as he heard your words, his body reacting immediately. He pinned you down onto the bed, his voice low and guttural, "You want that?"

"Need it," you cried, tears welling in your eyes from the pleasure Rafe was giving you. He could sense you were on the edge, and he knew exactly what you needed, what you craved.

He started moving faster, his hips snapping against the backs of your thighs in a firm, steady rhythm. He was so close to the edge, he just needed to hear you say it one more time...

"You're mine, baby. Say it."

"I'm yours, Rafe," you clung onto him, letting out a loud moan as his thumb found your clit again — the little bundle of nerves swollen and begging for attention. “All yours.”

He felt a primal satisfaction surge through him as he listened to you speak, and his thrusts got faster, less controlled. Your legs started to shake, so close to the edge, and your fingernails dug into the skin of his back, scratching down it once again and leaving bright red marks in their wake.

"You're mine," he grunted against your skin. "All mine. All. Mine."

"Yes, yes, yes!"

A loud moan ripped through your throat as you came undone around him, head thrown back against your pillow and eyes squeezed closed.

Rafe felt you squeeze him, the sensations sending him over the edge. He let out a guttural groan as he came, pushing himself as deep as he could go and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he shuddered. He couldn't speak for a few moments, his body going boneless as he collapsed on top of you, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He was completely shaken, his body quivering from the force of his orgasm.

He lay like that for a moment, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he tried to catch his breath. He eventually spoke, his voice low and gravelly, "Damn, baby. That was..."

"Incredible."

The two of you basked in each other’s arms, both trying to catch your breath and sweat dripping down your bodies. You were feeling relaxed, content in Rafe’s arms… until you heard the front door open.

“Y/N, we’re back!”

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

i think i’ve rbed this before but idk but i will give you my fall drink that never fails to delight

first step is to make homemade apple cider, but if you wish you can use store bought, just make sure it’s regular spiced cider and not the sparkling kind. but if you have a slow cooker and you can get your hands on enough apples to fill it up, that’s the best. i’ll put my apple cider recipe under a cut.

once you have your apple cider, make sure it’s nice and hot, put it on the stove for a minute if you need to, but put your hot apple cider in your cup. either fill it all the way with cider and use a chai tea bag, or fill it most of the way and use chai concentrate. add caramel syrup (which is even easier to make at home than apple cider and i bet you already have most or all of the ingredients, i’ll put a recipe for that under the cut too). maybe add whip cream or marshmallows or both, if you’re feeling decadent. it’s delicious!!

hot apple cider recipe:

slice up a combination of your fav apples (i use mostly pink ladies, and some granny smiths) and throw them into your slow cooker until it’s full. if you like citrus, you can add a combination of your fav citrus fruits too, peeled and whole. i usually add one lemon, one lime, and one orange, but you can basically do whatever you want, you could probably add different fruit here too like maybe some cranberries or pomegranate seeds/juice.

once your slow cooker is full of apples and whatever other fruit you wanna add, spice it. i usually use a full cinnamon stick or two for my medium sized crockpot, then add my pumpkin pie spice blend and just kinda eyeball it. if you don’t have pumpkin pie spice blend, it usually has, like, cinnamon, allspice, ginger, and nutmeg. use what you have, think gingerbread or pumpkin pie for the flavor profile.

now that you’ve spiced your cider ingredients, fill your slow cooker with water. then set it to low and leave it be for 12 hours. you can stir it once in a while if you want but you don’t even really have to—tbh, i usually prepare it before bed and leave my crockpot to its own devices while i sleep, so you can just let it do its thing if you don’t have time or energy to stir it.

once 12 hours has passed, take a bean/potato masher and mash up your fruit and spices. at this point, your apples should be pretty soft and easy to mash, same with your cinnamon sticks if you used them. do your best to avoid leaving any large chunks of any fruit, you want it to look like apple sauce or something.

when you’re done squishing everything into a sludge, leave it be again for another hour. you could probably even leave it for longer if you really want but it’ll be ready after an hour.

strain it through a cheesecloth, then sweeten with brown sugar to taste. if u want guidance, i usually use 1 cup of brown sugar for the entire medium size crockpot. you can also leave it unsweetened if you prefer it that way or you have friends who like less sweet things or have sugar restrictions and you wanna share with them. you can strain it and sweeten it all at once, or only enough for one cup at a time. it usually takes a long time to strain ime, so if you’re trying to serve it immediately, one cup at a time may be better for you. if you don’t have cheesecloth, you could prolly substitute coffee filters or very very fine mesh, just know that you may get a little pulp in it, especially if you’re using mesh.

serve it up and enjoy!!!!

caramel syrup*:

put 3/4 cup of sugar and 1/2 cup of water together in a pot on the stove. DO NOT STIR. bring to a boil and occasionally SWIRL the pot to combine.

once the water has boiled and the sugar is dissolved, let the sugar water simmer for 15 min or so, until the mixture is a nice golden brown color. while this is simmering, bring another, separate 1/2 cup of water to a boil (so that when you combine it, it won’t splash so much)

once your sugar water has caramelized and turned a nice golden brown, SLOWLY stir in the 1/2 cup of water you boiled separately.

add 1/2 tsp of vanilla extract, stir or swirl to combine, and boom, you’re done!

*if you’re seeing this and this note is still here, this caramel syrup recipe is from memory and i’ve only made it once. i’ll come back later to make sure it’s accurate probably, i just don’t feel like getting up to check my paper copy of the recipe rn. look up a caramel syrup recipe online to be sure of the proportions.

Chai tea bag + lil but of brown sugar + apple cider packet + 16 oz. mug of hot but not quite boiling water

it will not Fix You but like. maybe. maybe.

[getosbicth]

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧.

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

part 1: sharing is caring; part 2: dinner (coming soon)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved, love-bites on his neck and scratches on his chest and back...

"I want to meet him."

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,876

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ ONLY, NSFW! CONTENT, MINORS DNI, infidelity, unprotected sex, cucking (just a lil), polyamory, threesomes, weird pillow talk

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.

He smells of cherry liquor when he returns home. He'd give the excuse he's meeting with his allies for staying out so late, plotting the downfall of Jujutsu Society and those damned higher-ups who cast him out as a child. But you know he only drinks whiskey and red wine, yet the bitter-sweet taste on his lips gets you drunk and you have no choice but to ignore the infidelity happening behind your back.

He'd call out his name when he's asleep. He dreamt of him so many times you'd lost count but stayed awake every night to see if something had changed- if he'd call out your name instead. Sometimes you'd wake him up, tell him he was yelling in his sleep and that it scared you. Then he'd kiss your forehead and apologize, pull you closer and hug you like you were the one he wanted to be with.

You'd find notes in his coat pockets, saying where and when to meet, it was as if he wasn't even trying to hide it. You knew, though, that this man your lover was seeing was a secret that could never come to light. You were the one by his side, you were the one everyone knew about. You held onto that belief like it was your lifeline, like it mattered at all when you knew your position was only temporary. A distraction from the cruel reality that Suguru couldn't be with him.

It turned you bitter. How sweet it must've been to meet each other against all odds, to still want to be close to one another after everything they've been through. To meet under the veil of secrecy, so intimate and heart-wrenching. You didn't want to share, yet it felt horrible to think about stepping in between them, knowing full well he wouldn't choose you in the end.

So you stay silent and taste the bitter taste of cherry liquor on his lips, smell the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla in his hair. Your heart aches with the thought of sharing your beloved, the man you so deeply adored. Then again, it fuels a fire within you, something you've never felt before, and every night turns into a chance to prove your love for him. 

You surrender your body and your soul and he takes you for all you're worth, kissing you and loving you more and more passionately each time your bodies find themselves tangled in the cold darkness of your shared bedroom. You get addicted to the thought of him with his other lover, fully aware that, truthfully, you are the other. It gets you going and you become someone you don't recognize, you coax him into bed whenever you feel him straying. You make him feel so good he calls out your name in desperation, satiated and still craving more, you give, you give and you take from him.

You become malicious in the way you love him, taking control and denying him satisfaction, making him beg for it.

Until one night he comes home late, drunk and disheveled. You see the bites on his neck, the scratches on his back when he takes his shirt off and you feel rage boil in your blood. His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved and your eyes tear up. How could he disrespect you so blatantly? You feel helpless and betrayed by a person you've never seen before, the one who took a part of your beloved already and was trying to take more.

“I want to meet him.”

You can tell you've just turned his world upside down with only one sentence because he freezes and then let's his hair down to cover the marks on his neck.

“Who?”

You're already naked in bed, waiting for him, but you stand up and walk over to stop him from putting on his T-shirt. You yank it from him and throw it on the ground, “He can't do this. I don't want to see it, Suguru.” You say with a wobbly voice, dragging your finger across the scratches on his chest.

He takes your wrist to stop you from touching him. “I don't know what you're talking about.” His eyes have turned cold and the emptiness in his voice makes your stomach turn with unease. 

“Suguru, I didn't say anything. I've let you be with him because I know there is no other way. But I don't want to have to see how he touched you and-” You feel sick to your stomach. “I want to meet him.”

His gaze softens and he hums, contemplating how to proceed. “How long have you known?”

You huff in frustration, not believing he thought you were that stupid when the signs were so obvious. He wasn't even trying to hide it and he had the gall to ask you how long you've known. “Since forever. That's why I believe I deserve to meet the man my lover is trying to hide from me.”

He chuckles, placing his hand on your bare back and tracing his fingers down your spine. “How do you think you two should meet?” He says and pulls you into him, fueling that fire in the pit of your stomach with every graze of his cold fingers against your burning skin.

You feel yourself mellowing out, “Dinner?” You whisper as he leads you to your bed, making you crash onto it as he sneaks between your legs and starts kissing your thighs. “I don't know what would be appropriate.”

He drags his tongue along your inner thigh and you squirm, feeling frustrated about the conversation at hand but not wanting to make him stop what he's doing at the same time. If you're being honest, it excites you to know it's your turn, that he wouldn't simply leave you hanging after having his fill of this elusive man you were talking about.

“Would you want me to bring him here?”

Your heart skips a beat because you know exactly what he's insinuating. “I-” Your words get stuck in your throat when he starts licking and sucking on your most sensitive place, but you manage to keep talking. “I d-don't know. I- Ah, fuck.” You grab his hair and grind against his tongue, hearing him chuckle at your desperation. 

He's greedy in the way he consumes you and his greed appears as generosity. He's doing this for his own satisfaction, because it fuels his pride to know you need him so bad you'd consider letting his other lover in just to keep him for yourself too. You love the way he loves you, though, you love that you can call him yours as well and that he wouldn't leave you, no matter how perverse the reasoning behind all of that is.

“Would you want to meet him at dinner, and then you can decide if we come back here?” He hovers over you, on his knees and completely naked now, rubbing himself between your folds before plunging in with a low groan of satisfaction.

You watch his head fall back and inspect the red marks on his chest and the love bites on his neck; you feel yourself tighten around him. When you think about it, there's something sexually devious about knowing someone else is just as depraved as you, who would surrender to sharing this man just to get a piece of him. And you understand that person, because this is Suguru and you could never give him up.

“Yes.” You whisper, “I want to know more about him, though. What is he like?”

He looks down at you as he spreads your legs and buries himself deep inside, “Right now?” His cheeks are tinted red, as if he feels embarrassed to tell you about the man he believed he was cheating on you with.

“You don't think I'd like him?”

He hums, “He's very high maintenence.” He says as he rocks his hips slowly into you and you whimper at the intoxicating friction. “He's very pretty and he knows it.” He twitches inside of you when you groan in response, satisfied with the way this is turning out. “He likes women, too, so that won't be a problem. You can have your fun with him, too.”

You feel yourself blush and cover your face, “You wouldn't mind?”

He chuckles, bending down to kiss your breasts and neck, “Why would I mind? I would love to see that. Two of my favorite people together… I don't know what I'd do…”

You whimper and drop your hands from your eyes to see he's smiling at you, mischief dancing around in his eyes. “Tell me more.”

He nods and picks up his pace, whispering in your ear as you feel yourself slowly unraveling under him. “He's needy. He likes begging me for more, just like you.” Suguru kisses your neck, goosebumps all over your body as you listen to him whisper perverse things about his other lover into your ear. “He always tastes sweet because he loves sugar more than anything.” He fucks you even faster and harder and holds your legs down so you can't close them as you scream his name. “He's the strongest sorcerer of today, but such a little pretty princess when he needs me.” He chuckles, “Is that enough for you?”

You shake your head, “More. Tell me about-” You scream out when he hits a spot inside of you that hurts and feels incredible at the same time. You're falling apart, feeling so dirty and so depraved while you listen to your sweet Suguru tell you about how nasty he'd been behind your back. It makes you feel new types of pleasure, something so deviant and sinful that it makes your legs quiver as Suguru fucks you feverishly into the mattress. You're jealous, but your curiosity overcomes it and you need to know every detail about this man and what he's been up to with your Suguru.

“You want to know about how I fuck him, hm, baby?” He whispers and you feel him twitch inside of you as he thinks about it, “He likes it rough, wherever and whenever. He's not like you in that regard, I know you love being at home. He likes when I fuck him in my car. That's when he gets loud, I think it turns him on to be put into uncomfortable positions.”

You whine as you imagine it, a pretty boy being fucked mercilessly by your lover in the back of a black Mercedes, uncomfortable and yet drowning in pleasure. It turns you on to envision it because you're a voyeur at heart, you'd love to see all of Suguru when he's so riled up and adamant at making someone scream his name.

“Oh, f-u-uck-” you cry out, “Keep talking, I'm almost there, Sugu-”

He kisses your neck, breathing heavily, “Me too, baby.” He mutters, “I can show you how he likes it, if you want, it's easier than talking.”

You nod rapidly and he flips you over instantly, pushing your face into the pillow as he pulls your ass up and bends your spine into an uncomfortable position, penetrating you even deeper than before once he enters again.

You feel your eyes tear up from the pain, but pleasure prevails and he continues his deranged pace, the slapping of skin echoing in the silence of the dark room. “Yeah, just like this, oh my-” he groans and pulls you by your hair to your knees, “Or like this,” he says and bites your neck as his hand wraps around it and cuts off your airway until you're lightheaded. Your spine is still bent at an angle that makes your insides stretch and you feel how tight you are around him, even though his pace never let's up.

You're a whimpering, bumbling mess as you completely lose yourself to him, unable to talk or even think at all. 

“Oh, both of you feel so divine, I couldn't let go of one or the other.” He groans next to your ear, pushing you forward until you're pressed up to the wall, the cold contrasting the scalding hot skin of his torso against your back. “I'm close baby-”

You whine as you feel his thrusts subside in speed but not intensity, your legs shake and you cry out one final time before coming undone on his cock as he fills you up with himself and his cum, feeling fuller than you've ever felt before.

He doesn't stop after he's done, though, he likes to feel your insides flutter around him and loves overestimulating himself with your sweet pussy until it simply hurts to have you anymore. His movement is slow, it gives you butterflies at how tender he becomes. His hands are exploring your body, grabbing your breasts and thighs, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he takes in the sweet scent in your hair. He's reveling in the sensation of your tender body against his and shaking from the captivating pleasure.

“I want to meet him,” You whisper again and make him laugh.

“You can meet him, honey.” He kisses the back of your neck and sneaks his fingers between your legs to touch you, making you whimper in protest, tired and fucked out. But he loves torturing you, so he doesn't stop. “You'll see, you'll get along just fine…” He keeps kissing you and touching you and your legs are shaking again.

“Sugu-ru-” you choke out, clawing at the wall, “Too much-”

“I know, honey, just a bit more…” He whispers into your ear, “You know I love to see you like this, so pretty.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers move skillfully to make you come once again, keeping himself nestled deep within your guts. You feel full, and he tells you you're so good for letting him torture you to his hearts content. “So sweet,” his lips graze your neck and you shudder, “So warm, hmm… I could stay inside of you forever.”

You moan at the thought, and he starts moving again, slowly, making sure you feel every little detail of him sliding against your insides. It's sensual and his hands are like hot lava dripping down your body, melting you entirely. He shows you there's no need to be jealous, no need to feel bad about sharing when he's got so much to give and when he needs both of you equally. 

“Do you feel better now, sweetheart?” He kisses your cheek, hugging you tightly.

You nod in response and turn around to face him. “I feel better, my love.” You say and kiss him, tasting the sugar on his tongue from the one who'd had him before you. “You're right, he does taste sweet.” You mutter, gazing at his lips and wondering how much sweeter he'd taste if you kissed him directly. It's a passing thought and you feel the jealousy prod at your heart once again, but you blame Suguru for these kinds of thoughts. He's the one who could manipulate you into being just as perverse as him. The question was whether you minded or not.

“Oh, really?” He chuckles as you push him down on the bed and climb on top of him, pulling the sheets over your naked bodies and snuggling into his warm embrace.

You sigh, “Sugu… Did you tell him about me?”

He sighs as well, “I didn't think of the possibility that you might be okay with that.”

You frown and sit up on top of him, “So he doesn't know about me at all? You didn't bother hiding the fact that you're seeing him from me.”

He looks guilty for a second, “I think he knows. He would've let me know if it was an issue. Just like you didn't up until now. You know him and I can't be together for real, so…”

You roll your eyes, “But you are. You screw him wherever and whenever, right?” You cross your hands over your chest and he looks down at your breasts, suddenly distracted from the serious matter at hand. “My eyes are up here.” You say in a deadpan voice.

“Yeah,” he pulls your arm for you to lay down again, “But we aren't public. Nobody knows except you. And I'll say I'd like it to stay that way, even though I know you won't tell.”

You give him a peck on the lips and smile softly, “I'd never.” 

He smiles back, “So, dinner?”

You nod, “Dinner."

thank you for reading! part 2 coming soon!

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 5

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, smoking cigars, violence, angst

series masterlist │my masterlist

your relationship with logan is strained, breaking apart at the seams.

ever since your conversation the dynamic has shifted. you don’t want to lose logan, and so in the light of day you kiss and cuddle and he watches you complete your chores. he makes dry comments as you cook together and you talk and laugh over dinner. he carries you into the bedroom and kisses the insides of your thighs until you’re begging for him, clutching at his hair as he eats you out.

but in the dark, when night falls, so does the facade of your relationship. he still sleeps in the guest room, but you no longer go join him when he has nightmares. if he wants to pretend like everything is fine and doesn’t want to talk to you, you won’t pressure him to do so. you’re following his lead, and it’s making you both obviously miserable.

he hardly ever actually sleeps, and you know that - sometimes you still wake up to his screams of pain and horror. he spends most of his nights drinking, sitting outside on the porch with a bottle or two. you often find him there in the mornings, watching the sunrise, face pale and eyes lined with thick, dark bags.

he asks you to buy him cigars when you go into town and you do. he smokes them on the porch while you bring him coffee, grabbing the empty bottles of liquor to throw out. he mutters a “thanks” but says nothing else, and you return to the kitchen to eat your own breakfast alone, without him.

it always takes a few hours before he can shake off the lingering tensions and horrors that follow him at night, before he can really be a version of himself again.

he’s angry too, all the time. that feral, violent edge to logan that you’d noticed through his animal behaviours seems heightened now. his claws come out more, becoming a familiar sight. he never takes it out on you, he’ll walk away before he ever gets close to doing that, but he becomes destructive in his anger.

he punches the walls, claws piercing through the drywall along with his fist. but he always fixes it after, and he seems less tense when he’s using his hands like that. to fix and patch-up rather than destroy.

he takes to fixing things around the house, changing the shower head so it has better water pressure, repairing the old hinges on the doors to the cupboards that always creak. he builds you a new bookshelf as an apology - or at least you think it is, though he never says the words outright - after getting shitfaced and yelling at you one night.

and yet you feel so distant from him. there’s a painful ache in your chest every time you see his handsome face, a longing to touch him and kiss him and crawl into his skin. the physical proximity does nothing to alleviate your loneliness. you miss him, so much.

he’s laying under the kitchen sink, shirt off and tossed on the floor beside him, and you take a moment to admire him, the thin sheen of sweat covering his chest, the dark hair that you want to bury your face into.

you shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze and proceed outside. you have things to do, and there’s no use getting distracted by logan when you know it won’t amount to any changes, won’t make this thing between you better.

honestly, you’re counting down the days until he tells you he wants to leave, find his own place, start his own life. or restart, you suppose. you expect it to happen any day now, when he runs out of things to fix around your house and can no longer keep himself busy and distracted.

and then one night he returns home drunk. he’d gone out without telling you, skipping dinner together to go to some bar or another. you ate alone, hardly picking at your plate, appetite gone. 

you’ve never seen him like this and you wonder how much he must have drunk to get to this point, slurring his words and stumbling, a heavy weight that you struggle to hold onto, keeping him upright so he won’t collapse into nearby furniture. he has a half empty bottle in hand and you gently pry it out of his grip, placing it down on the nearest surface you can find, just to get it away from him.

he’s muttering words you can’t quite understand, talking to himself more than he’s talking to you, but it’s more words than you’ve heard him say in a while. you blink back the tears that threaten to rise on your waterline as he holds you against him, close your eyes to focus on the scent of him that surrounds you, the sharp tangy smell of alcohol lingering on him, cutting through his usual musk, cigar smoke and wood and him.

“i’m gonna put you to bed,” you say gently, because as angry as you are with him right now, as much as you’re trying to put distance between you, he’s still logan, and your heart beats for him regardless.

you lead him to the guest room, but he shakes his head and wrenches his hand out of your hold, stumbling towards the door to your room, to what was once yours and logans before he’d started fading away. breathless, you follow him, watching him collapse onto your bed, face buried in your pillow. he lets out a deep groan, wiggling around in your spot until he’s comfortable.

you’ve missed the sight of him in your room, missed falling asleep to his face and waking up in the warmth of his arms, the sound of his steady breathing surrounding you with a sense of peace, his hands tracing your face as if you were a work of art. you don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

“don’t cry - hate when you cry,” logan slurs as he reaches out his arms towards you, beckoning you to come closer to him.

it makes you cry harder, and within moments he’s holding you. you’re straddling him, legs bent against the comforter at an odd angle but you don’t care. he presses his hot mouth to the top of your head, a barely-there brush of his lips that has you warming up from within.

“shh,” he tries to shush you, rocking the two of you back and forth in a horribly uncoordinated rhythm, “don’t cry. i love you.”

it’s the first time he’s said those three words to you, and you wish you could have heard them under any other circumstance. not when he’s drunk out of his mind, not when you’re barely holding yourself together, not after weeks of hardly speaking. it’s not the right time - hell, it’s probably the worst moment he could have picked.

“don’t say that,” you tell him, voice raw, “if you don’t want me to cry, please don’t say that.”

“but-” he protests, “do you love me?”

it’s bittersweet, this moment you’re sharing. you can’t remember the last time he’s been so honest with you, so forthright with his feelings, and yet you can’t be certain he’ll even remember this conversation in the morning. you can’t be certain this will change anything at all.

you sigh, and hope that logan’s mutation doesn’t involve him remembering everything that happens even when he’s shitfaced drunk. you don’t want your first admission of love to be a sad one, but he’s looking at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes, your logan, and you can’t leave him hanging, can’t just not answer. and you can’t lie either, he’d be able to smell it in your scent, to read it in the way your heartbeat quickens.

“yes, logan, i do.” you whisper, pressing a hand against his cheek, the scruff of his beard.

“why are you mad at me?” he slurs, and you scoff.

“because you’re pretending everything’s fine and you’re pushing me away,” you reply, “you don’t talk to me anymore, and i can’t read you like i used to. you barely show any emotions, you just close everything away. i’m mad because yes, logan, i love you, and that means i want to know what’s going on with you.”

“but ‘s better now,” logan protests.

you frown. he sounds so sure of himself, and you wonder how he could possibly see the state of your current relationship and think of it as better. maybe you were right, maybe this is all ending.

“how?” you whisper, “how are things in any way better?”

he buries his face in your neck, warm breath forming condensation on your skin. when he speaks you can feel the words more than you hear them, muffled as they are. “i was an animal before. a monster with no control. ‘s better that i act human.”

you laugh but it’s unhappy, “it’s not better at all. i want the real you, whoever that is, more human or animal, i don’t care. but i want the version of you that spends time with me instead of a bottle, the version of you where we can talk through our issues. because i get that things are different logan, i hear your nightmares and i don’t expect you to be the same now that you remember all those awful things. you’re traumatised, i understand that. but i wish you could try to open up, let me love you. don’t push me away. and i want you to love me in the ways that are natural to you, that make you the happiest, whatever that means.”

you wake up to an empty bed, the spot beside you still warm but steadily growing colder. you blink open your eyes, blearily, making out the dent in the mattress where logan had slept, the smell of cinnamon and sugar invading your senses with each new breath you took.

you find logan in the kitchen, wearing one of your little aprons, far too small for him, the strings barely long enough to meet at the back. the sight makes you giggle, silly and domestic as it is. he’s pulling fresh cinnamon buns out of the oven, and you fight the urge to look around as if someone is about to pop out at you. 

“want one?” logan asks. in your daze you hardly noticed him turning around to face you. “they’re uh- an apology. i used your recipe and i’m good at following the instructions so they should be okay.”

he refuses to meet your eyes, shifting on his feet, restless energy thrumming through him like he’s expecting to have to run away at any moment. before, you would have said that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to run and hide when things get hard, always fight and never flight. it seems right for him, with his gruff demeanour and the violent edge to him. but you’ve lived through him avoiding you, running from his problems. you refuse to let it happen again.

he’s skittish, nervous even, and you take a moment to appreciate the sight. it’s lovely, gorgeous even, compared to the anger and depression and irritation that you’ve gotten accustomed to from him. but you don’t let him linger in silence for too long.

“an apology?” you repeat his words, placing your chin in your hands, “for what?”

“pushing you away.”

so he remembers. you wonder if he recalls every word you spoke to him under the cover of darkness, made brave by the thought that he likely wouldn’t remember, that none of this would come back to you in any way, or if it’s more of a vague image that floats around in his mind, edges blurred and sections of the night skipping through.

does he remember the way you told him you loved him, the words tinged with sadness and desperation? you weren’t expecting the sudden change of heart, the way he so easily said the very thing he’s been avoiding admitting for so long.

“you don’t have to apologise for that,” you say, though you appreciate it, “you were going through something. you still are.”

“i still need to apologise,” he argues, and you smile at the determination in his voice, “it’s- fuck- i’m not good with words. i messed up. i know that. but i’m almost two hundred years old, you know that? and i remember every single, shitty day of it. i haven’t had a good life, princess. i hurt and kill everyone that gets close to me. and i don’t wanna hurt you.”

you stride right up to him and he looks terrified when you raise your arms, but all you do is wrap them around his neck, standing on your tip-toes so you can press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his scratchy beard against your lips. his hands find a place on either side of your waist, the position so natural, so comfortable.

this is how you’re meant to be, in each other’s arms, not fighting or hiding away from one another.

“you did hurt me,” you say, watching the way his jaw tenses at the reminder, “but i’m tougher than i look. and i don’t believe that your past defines you. who you are right now, how you treat me, that’s what decides my opinion of you. although right now you’ve got some grovelling to do.”

he grunts in agreement, “i’ll make it up to you, darlin’. however you want.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[amazinglyashy]

hiii I’d like to make a request for LADS🙏

scenarios for the boys (specifically the original 3) when you meet and you’re already dating someone (maybe eventually you leave them for one of the boys). like. i can imagine raf and xav having a hard time keeping their cool about it and perhaps zayne acting the way he did in neon night since he doesn’t remember but fjdjsksm

You actually sent this a day before I got Neon Night, so I was able to reference it in real time and not look up the card on YT or anything, I'm so happy-- This was actually super fun, thank you so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy <3 (I'm gonna warn you tho, I made it a bit angsty--)

LaDS men when you're already dating someone [for now-]

Rafayel -

Rafayel is... upset.

to say the least.

He'll act rude and obnoxious to whoever it is you're dating at the time, to an uncharacteristically high level of sass and snippy comments. You have to try and ask him what's gotten into him, but he won't answer you.

Further meetings will go just as smoothly, so your current partner will just chalk up to you having an oddly rude friend.

He'll say something that comes across as weird to you at some point- a biting comment during a completely unrelated argument about how he waited so long for you, searching high and low for any trace of you returning again, and you didn't even have the courtesy to wait for him.

He'll leave angry, but he'll stand in the hallway regretting it, because he knows. He knows you don't remember him, and he can't keep faulting you for that. But damn-

It hurts.

It hurts to know that he did everything he could to find you, to protect you- to keep you safe until he could see you again. Talk to you again. Love you again.

But here you were.

Just out of reach again.

Xavier -

You're trying to handle a toddler now, not a grown man.

He's so upset, it's borderline ridiculous.

It's like any comment or conversation starter your current partner tries to toss at Xavier, it doesn't even make it out of the hangar before it's shot down.

Any attempts you make to be friendly with him are also met with snippy remarks.

He did not travel as far as he did, do every single hard thing he had up until this point- just to lose to some average every-day person who was currently enjoying holding your hand.

His jealously is through the roof.

His pouting face is actually pretty cute, though, so there's that.

After sulking for a long time, he'll start inviting you places more frequently, under the guise of wanting to hang out more as coworkers.

His actual motives are trying to make you see just how good of a partner he could be for you.

Yes he's trying to steal you out from under your current partner's feet.

Is it working...?

Sylus -

He's not surprised.

He's also not threatened.

What, was Sylus supposed to suspect that someone with no recollection of him or your previous time knowing each other would hold out for him, until you met again?

He tries his best to be a rational man, as there would be no rationality in getting upset at you for something you have no knowledge of.

He's hurt, but he also has a mild sense of confidence coating his doubts and pain.

He knows you'll come around to him eventually- it's everything that fate had destined, he'll muse jokingly to himself.

Still, he can't help a little doubt itching in his subconscious. He doesn't have any way of outwardly handling it, though.

He isn't the type to flaunt what he has in front of other people in order to appear better. It's gaudy to him, and shows just how little someone actually is worth if they're so desperate to put themselves above another through a dollar amount.

Treats your current partner with the same level of respect he does towards you, and shows them similar levels of care.

They make you happy, and he doesn't want that ever taken from you.

No matter how badly he wants you all to himself.

Zayne -

If it bothers him, you would never be able to tell.

Always the epitome of kindness and civility no matter who he's dealing with as long as they aren't unkind to those who matter to him- namely you- the person you're dating is treated no differently.

That is, as long as they're treating you properly.

He's no overprotective psychopath, but he does have his own concerns given some of the patients he has treated in the past. As long as certain basic criteria are met, he doesn't see any issue with it.

Still he's... a bit sad.

He blames himself wholeheartedly, for going away for so long. For leaving you alone. It's his own fault for missing his chance with you, and while somewhere deep inside of him is praying on your current partner's downfall- it's a very small portion in the back of his mind. Something dark he'll never truly humor.

He wants you to be happy, above anything else. Above personal feelings, his own wishes, anything. And if your current partner is making you happy, then that's all he could ever wish for.

Even through the sting.

He's happy as long as you are.

[pitchsidestories]

never judge a book by it's cover II Beth Mead x Vivianne Miedema x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1321

a/n: dear readers, this pairing was quite a requested one, so we hope we've met your expectations. 💗💗

warning: mentions of injuries, but despite that topic a whole lot of wholesomeness and fluff. <3

“Beth, Viv tried to call us.”, you noticed concerned after you looked at your phone. A few minutes ago, Renee ended the training, and the Arsenal team felt more optimistic than it had in recent times.

“She did? Weird, she knows we had training. And she hates calls.”, Beth frowned.

“Yes, it must be important.”, you replied before playing the voice mail your other girlfriend had left. Viviannes frustrated and sad voice filled the changing room. It was in stark contrast to the current joyful and happy atmosphere.

“Hi girls. I know you’re busy. Just wanted to let you know that the team doctor checked on my knee again and it doesn’t seem to get better. I’m off to do some more scans now but he said another surgery might be inevitable. They want to operate as soon as possible. No big deal, just wanted to let you know. Enjoy your training.”

“Oh no, poor Vivi. Love, you know what that means, right?”, the blonde sighed heavily.  

“Yes, of course.”, you told her. Clearing your throat, you turned around to face one of your Australian teammates. “Uhm Steph, sorry, we can’t go on our usual coffee walk with the dogs later. Beth and I need to drive to Manchester because Viv needs us right now.”

“Sure. Everything, okay?”, Steph asked alarmed.

“No, Viv puts her brave face on, but she likely has to go through a surgery again.”, you explained with a heavy heart.

“Tell her we’re all thinking of her.”, she responded empathetically.

“Okay, we’ll.”, you promised her.

“See you soon, Steph.”, Beth waved at one of her best friends.

“Bye girls, take care.”, Steph replied.

Your girlfriend and you didn’t waste time, you quickly got everything you needed for your lover and when drove all the way up to the North in a bit over four hours.

Both your hearts pounded hard against your chests, once you rang at Vivianne’s appartement door in Manchester and waited for her to open it. You couldn’t know in which state you’d find her.

“What are you two doing here?!”, the Dutch woman exclaimed surprised while kneeing down despite the pain to hug the dog who wiggled her tail excitedly, clearly thrilled to see her again.

“Looking after you!”, you answered patiently.

“I can handle that I did it before.”, Vivianne clarified as the brunette slowly stood up again.

“Yes, but you don’t have to handle it alone.”, Beth reminded her softly, wrapping her arms around the taller forward.

“Exactly, we’ll be there for you if you like it or not.”, you added, joining their hug, turning the Dutch’s footballer’s cheeks into a soft pink.

“You didn’t have to come.”, Vivianne stated seriously.

“But we wanted to, you stubborn woman.“, Beth huffed with annoyance but her eyes softened at the sight of her girlfriend.

Vivs eyebrows knotted together: “Who are you calling stubborn? You didn’t even call back to ask how the scans went. You just packed your stuff and drove here!“

You shrugged, trying to calm the situation with an innocent smile: “We just knew that we had to be here.“

With that, you marched past her into her living room that you had helped decorate a few months ago.

Vivianne shook her head: “You’re two idiots.“

“Yeah but we’re your idiots.“, Beth smiled and gently bumped shoulders with her as they followed you.

“Yeah, you are.“, Vivianne confirmed with the hint of a laugh in her voice.

You stopped in front of the sofa and started to unpack the bags you and Beth had packed earlier.

“Plus, we got Myle, your favourite snacks and the new book from that author you love. So basically everything you need to start your recovery.“, you told her.

A bit overwhelmed, Vivianne took in the pile of sweets you created on the coffee table. It took a few seconds until she spoke again: “That’s sweet of you.“

“You’re welcome, Viv. So, what’s next for you?“, you asked, sitting down on her sofa.

“For one, it’s surgery and then rehab again.“, she sighed as she sat down next to you.

Beth calmingly laid a hand on Vivs thigh: “When is the date for the surgery?“

“In a few days so you can’t stay here for that.“

As soon as she had finished, Beth and you looked at each other with silent understanding.

You frowned: “You don’t want us to be here for the surgery?“

“You have training.“, the dutch player replied like the answer should have been obvious. And maybe it should have been. But not when Beth and you were determined to be there for your girlfriend.

“Yes but Renee would understand if we would skip one.“, Beth argued which was met with a determined shake of Vivs head. “But I don’t want you to pause your lives for me.“

You barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes at her typical stubbornness: “It’s not on pause because you are an important part of our lives.“

She considered you for a moment, silently.

“Yes, everyone would understand.“, Beth nodded to emphasize your point.

Another short break until Vivianne finally admitted: “To be honest, girls, I’m a little scared…“

Taken aback, you bit your lip. It wasn’t often that your girlfriend was open about her emotions.

Beths hand slipped into Vivs, her gaze softening: “You don’t have to be. We’ll be here for you and support you every step of the way.“

“What if I’m not coming back from this?“

“You’ll. You’re a fighter.”, the blonde said in a tone which left no room for doubt and was full of certainty.

“And you two will be there? I know I can get.”, the Dutch woman started.

Before she could add anything, you interrupted her gently. “Of course we’ll be.”

“Promise.”, Beth continued solemnly.

“Okay, thanks.”, Viv let out a relived sigh.

“Cuddles.”, you offered.

“Okay.”, she agreed with a half-crooked smile and opened her arms for you both to cuddle into one of her sides each.

“Do you feel better?”, the English player wanted to know.

“A lot. But still you shouldn’t have come.”, the Manchester city football player mumbled.

“We’re not starting with that again.”, you groaned.

“Yes, shut up and be happy!”, Beth demanded laughing.

“Let’s read out to each other with Viv’s new book. Beth could you..?”, you suggested.

“Make some special Meado hot chocolate? Absolutely.”, your girlfriend exclaimed thrilled.

“You guys know I hate the attention.”, the Dutch forward pouted.

“We do that’s why we’ll focus on fictional characters now. Can you already smell the hot drink?”, you tried your best to distract her.

“I hope Beth doesn’t burn the milk again.”, Viv looked worried into the direction where the scent of hot chocolate came from.

“Have a little faith in me!”, Beth yelled.

“I do. Usually.”, the forward assured the other striker quickly who returned with three cups of warm beverages.

“Okay, fine. I won’t argue with you.”, Viv laughed.

“The cover is really awful though.”, you commented while flipping through the pages of the newly acquired novel.

“You’re not supposed to read the cover.”, the dark-haired woman clicked her tongue.

“And not judge it by it’s looks?”, you raised an eyebrow at your lover, you knew exactly to what she was alluding to.

From the outside you looked very tough with your tattoos and muscular built. Because of your outward appearance people were quite intimidated by you until they got to know the human behind the looks. There was a soft and gentle side to you other persons were surprised to find.

“Of all people you must know that looks can be misleading.”, Beth reminded you with a wink.

“Can we read now?”, Viv threw in impatiently.

“Sure.”, you chuckled and began to read the first lines of the new book.  While you were aware that the best love story lay right next to you, listening to every word you said.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Overtime

This is the second prize in my giveaway for my follower @l3rittany. I hope you enjoy it! TW: Sexual references, AFAB Reader, Clingy, Missed communication

When Charlie offered you the job, you took it without question, with no idea that your ‘boss’ would be the fearsome radio demon himself. You thought you were just helping out an old friend who has done a solid for you once or twice. No idea that your soul could lay in the balance of another life or even its death. However, you would never revoke your word, so slacks and blouses became your life as the hotel's office coordinator. 

Working under Alastor wasn’t that bad; in fact, it was the best work you had ever had. He was precise and articulate with his needs, allowing you to get things done effectively while maintaining your personal life. Not to mention that the hotel had a cast of colorful characters that helped keep the days light and going, something you were grateful for on the more task-filled days. 

You wouldn’t say you were anything like Alastor; you were the polar opposite, as Charlie felt you would compliment Alastor's style, maybe even loosen him up while he helped you maintain a schedule. However, your differences did nothing to stop the growing butterflies you got as your years working with Alastor passed. Such differences only spurred your dream of a long-lasting relationship with the deer man. 

You knew your desires were nothing more than a dream, but time passed, and familiarity was bread. Before you knew it, you and Alastor worked in a tandem like no other. The seamless work between you two only led people in the hotel, and even hell itself, to assume something more was between you. Who is to say there wasn’t more between you two as time passed? Because what you saw as just Alastor being a gentleman of his time, he saw as courting his prized possession. 

Your hard work, dedication, and steadfast loyalty were all Alastor needed to know you were perfect for him—someone who strengthened his weaknesses and he yours. After a year of working with you, he was pleased when a docile routine started that led to these growing feelings. Alastor wanted nothing more than to hold, touch, love, and be with you—something he assumed you also wanted at the same time. 

Alastor only let you touch him after year two of working together. This was his way of telling everyone he was taken. He even went as far as not letting Rosie be all over him as much. However, you see it as Alastor closing off again. You felt lucky that you were still one of his few trusted companions. 

In year three of working together, Alastor began to buy you small trinkets he thought would better your outfits, compliment your eyes, or even make work easier for you. You were one to believe this was just his way of helping you out. A boss looking out for his best employee. Nothing more or less. 

What finally sent Alastor over the edge was year four when he asked you to accompany him to a formal Overlord event. This was going to be his time to debut you and him. Show everyone in hell who you belong to. He had survived years of you being everything he could want, and here he would let everyone know who his powerful love companion was. However, he didn’t expect to see you outside your usual work attire. 

You had gone all out for the event, wanting to make Alastor proud and fueling the fantasy that he adored you as you did him. You wore a dark red dress. The bodice wrapped around your neck with silver tendrils akin to deer horns. The waist was high, showing your curves that led to a high slit just above your thigh. You wore striking silver heels, which made you the perfect height for him. 

All the effort you put into your look was beyond what he had imagined, and Alastor was foaming at the mouth. He had never had these emotions before you entered his life and was starving for you. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, devour you. Everything he knew he could have after he debuted you tonight—his pretty Doe. 

As you took his arm, he felt at ease, a sense of calm washing over him. He felt complete; for once in his life, someone was there with him, accepting him. Smiling softly at you, he led the way to the party that would change the fate of your relationship for life. 

As you arrived, it was clear to everyone how Alastor was displaying you. He was showing that you were his and not to be messed with. Vox was pissed, Val was confused about how he got such a beauty, and Camilla was just tired of all the pissing contests everyone seemed to want to have. However, it became clear through small talk and idle chatter that maybe you and Alastor weren’t entirely on the same page.

When Vox cornered you in hopes of learning secrets about Alastor, you kept calling him boss and friend. When Zestial talked to Alastor, he called you his partner and lifemate. When Val started hitting on you, you turned Alastor away and laughed it off. Alastor was fuming and promised to make a hit on the moth later. 

Your relationship with Alastor was very confusing for all parties involved. Then came the events behind the party: people bidding on land for their claims. All Alastor cared about was the hotel's land; as he put it, ‘I can take whoever else’s land I please when I need it.’ However, you were guessing you were brought here to help with the budget and make sure he didn’t spend too much. 

As the bidding continued, you kept running off numbers to Alastor, and he was starting to get the bigger picture. You weren’t here to be his date but to be his work partner. Then it dawned on him, even if you had died eons before he did, even if you knew of many different customs and cultures. Was it possible you didn’t realize he was courting you? 

As the realization hit, he began laughing to himself. However, the laughter started to grow as he disrupted the entire ordeal. You had no idea he was in love with you, absolutely infatuated. You knew not of his desire to mate with you for life. He was baffled and honestly not shocked, as this was you he was talking about—his diligent little doe who was so good at work but oblivious to his advances. 

He finally understood why you never returned the advances or reached out for him or got him anything. You didn’t realize he wanted you and you alone. He hummed, satisfied with himself for the deduction. Even if he interrupted the party, he didn’t care because now he had a new goal: to get you home and show you how much he cared about you. 

Time ticked slowly; you had grown worried over the silent and now brooding Alastor. His laughing fit had caused everyone to be concerned, worried he would start an all-out brawl. However, he quit and was silent for the rest of the night. He kept you close to him; however, his arm never left your waist, allowing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. 

Once the evening ended, he didn’t stop there. The gentleman in him led you to your room, a soft butterfly kiss to your writs, palm, and cheek. When he pulled away and was greeted by your red face, that was all the confirmation he needed. You felt the same way; you were too shy to admit you loved your boss. Smirking, he allowed himself into your room. 

“Four and a half long years, Dear, and you are informing me now through your reactions that you finally feel the same. Tsk, Tsk, no, you have always felt this way, haven’t you? You are just too shy to admit it.” He looked at you longingly, craving your touch, which he finally had permission to have. 

“Al, where is this all coming from,” You were shocked, to say the least, a dark blush covering your face as he caged you in slowly into your room. 

“I have given you hint after hint, day after day, year after year, about my affection and adoration of you. However, it seems I wasn’t forward enough. So let me try again, yeah. " That sentence alone was all it took. In your brain, you wanted to shout no, that you are just boss and worker, but in your heart, you wanted to scream yes repeatedly. 

Your heart won over as you nodded subtly to his advances, allowing Alastor the right to do everything for you. He quickly pulled you in and accepted the first of many kisses. He was gentle and soft with you. He wanted to do this right, not rough at first. He heard stories, both alive and dead, about those who rushed in and didn’t appreciate all they had. 

Despite his hate for touch, he needed yours now and more than ever. He needed to feel all of you and know you genuinely knew how he felt. His heart was so full of love for you over the last five years that he needed you to know that you were his everything. This love filled him with a yearning for you and only you.

His lips are gentle against yours, each kiss stealing your breath away again and again. You hoped from here on out that they would always feel incredibly soft when he's wrapped around you like this, arms holding you in a soft but tight embrace. He had you melting in his hands.

His movements were slow, as if you have all the time in the world, an eternity, to make each other feel good. He slowly laid you down on the bed, your dress hiking up with your body. Slowly, he began to spread your legs and place himself between them as he hovered above you.

He was slow to undress you both. He started with you, eager to see you bare before him. To feel your soft skin against his own. He gently slid your dress off with your heels, peppering your body with soft kisses. Soon, he was stripping himself of his suit, leaving him just in his briefs above you. Both of you are enamored at the beautiful sights before you. “May I touch you…I am new to this; I only know what I have heard and seen a few times.” You gave a sweet, simple nod to him as his lips moved downwards to meet with your clit.

He makes sure there’s a pillow under your head so you can remain comfortable under his tongue while you place one under your hips to provide easier access to him. As he dived in, it was a sweet release for you both—the feeling of one another's skin as well as the pleasure building from his menstruations.

You sighed deeply, your hand coming to his head, shoving his face deeper into you. You needed him more, all of him, and Alastor was ready to deliver. He held you close, enjoying your taste, scent, and desire for him—something he was so eager for and so needy for. He wanted to love you right, as any gentleman should. 

“Al…Oh, Al fuck….Al, I am going to,” As you began to cum you could feel his horns grow more. Holding on to them, you rutted against his face, chasing your high. As the white behind your eyes pulsed, Alastor was relentless, ensuring he cleaned you thoroughly before pulling himself up. 

As he hovered above your face, covered in your slick, he held your hands above your head softly. He kissed you deeply, smiling at you, allowing your taste to fill your mouth. His kisses moved from your lips to your cheek to your chest, then your hands, and he peppered you with love and adoration. He was going to worship you and you alone. 

As you whined for me, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Gently, his hands caressed your body as you wrapped yours around his neck. Eager lips conjoined as you two kissed once again. He was sure one day he would devour you, but for now, this, this was his heaven. Maybe Charlie was right. A soul, even one taken by another, could be redeemed. 

Gently he pulls away and removes his briefs, his cock spriging free. He was eager and ready. Inexperienced or not, he knew one essential thing: a woman should always be pleased first. He smiled gently and lined himself up. When you nodded again to him, he slid in, panting with each inch that passed through you. He immediately loses himself the moment he feels your warm, wet, gummy walls squeezing and sucking him in.

"Oh fuck," He breathes, pelvis connecting with yours as he entirely sits inside you.

You're nose-to-nose, chest-to-chest, trapped under him with willowy arms on either side of you, and there's absolutely no space between you once he pulls your legs up to wrap around his hips. He needs you as close to him as possible. Your breaths mingle as he's working your insides, your nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing with each deep thrust.

You can feel each throb and pulse, the tip of his cock kissing gummy wet walls each time he buries himself inside you. Alastor is enjoying your every reaction, committing each face and sound to his memory for later. Every sigh, gasp, and sweet moan of his name boosts his ego. He's taking care of you because he's making you feel like this. No one else can or will.

"You make me feel so good, Y/N; I need more of you, all of you," He leaned over you, entering you even more deeply. Each thrust hits a new and unexplored spot that sent you squeezing down on him ."You make me feel so good, sweetheart. My Doe.. my sweet Doe."

It's so intimate and romantic that it makes you needy throughout your act. It makes fireworks go off in your stomach. Each kiss is electricity, each thrust is a new breath of air, and each sound is your symphony.

"Alastor-" you hiccup as you look up at him through bleary eyes.

"Yeah, sweet girl? What do you need?" he had all his attention on you, nothing else. All Alastor ever cared about was you.

“More.. please, I need more.” Your pleas didn’t fall on deaf ears as Alastor moaned softly, repositioning you.

His hands quickly move down and grab your hips. He positions them higher, the new angle making him thrust right up against your G-spot, going a little faster than before. As soon as he hears your cries, he falls to a stable rhythm and has your eyes rolling back, gasping for air and making all those perfect sounds.

“Yeah, does that feel good? You like when I’m deep in you like this, fucking you just how you dreamed?” He asks, his voice starting to shake slightly. But you can’t respond. Not when your vocal cords won’t let you, preoccupied with your cute whines and mewls, you do your best not to be too loud for the courtesy of the other hotel residents. All noises resembling speech are mindless babbles, too hung up that you finally have Alastor as much as he had you.

“Shhh, I know. I know, my Doe,” His voice is so quiet and sweet that it almost makes your stomach sick. “Just sit there and take it like the good girl you are. That’s all you have to do.”

The way he is making your pussy flutter makes your stomach flip from hearing his deep moans; he makes your clit ache with need, begging for some friction right about now because all you can think about is cumming around his thick cock. You need to cum so bad, and Alastor, unbeknownst to you, can pick up on it.

 He notices the way you squeeze around him relentlessly, the way you go a little quiet as you try to focus on your orgasm. All gentlemen knew one cardinal rule: Your lady needs to feel good first.

“Open your eyes, dear. Let me see how pretty you look.” You take a moment to process his words before your glossy eyes barely flutter open again. " That’s a good girl. Keep those beautiful eyes on me.”

You feel his hand gripping your hip snake between your legs and down to your wet heat. It was only then that you took notice of the lewd, sloppy sounds coming from the both of you, your combined wetness and sweat creating a loud slap every time his hips met with yours. 

The pad of his thumb gathers some of that slick before pressing against your swollen nub, in turn making you jolt under him. He methodically works your clit in rhythm with his thrusts, and with how worked up you already are, you feel your nether regions burning. You glance down at his hand, working you so effortlessly. The way his cock disappears inside you, taking him so well. Suddenly, you feel so close. So fucking close.

“Please cum for me,” The way he said please and in such a soft tone made you unravel completely. You nodded, the tears welling in your eyes, ready to fall. A grin formed across Alastors face, not his normal one, a new one meant just for you.

“Cum for me, dear; I can feel you are holding back; release for me; let me make you feel good,” He leaned down to pepper small kisses along your soft jawline as his fingers on your clit quickened.

“Al…Al…AL Fuck… I-I’m gonna cum,” You managed to choke out, feeling his hips stutter as your walls pulse around him.

“Let go, sweetheart. Make a mess for me, I’ve got you.” The way he said it so lovingly made you go insane. Was this what you were missing out on for years? You could have had this all along. Why did you wait till now? How foolish were you? 

You feel your hips buck helplessly under him, a cry of pleasure getting ripped straight from your throat as you cum on his cock, your cunt pulsing and gushing around him. Hot tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you bury your face into his neck. Your hearing goes a little fuzzy, but you can make out his lengthy groans as he keeps pounding into you. You writhe in overstimulation below him before his hips stutter again, burying himself inside you with a harsh thrust as his seed shoots out, filling you. 

You sniffle into his neck in the aftermath. You hear him mutter a few soothing words as his lips touch your skin again, but his words fall on deaf ears as you try to catch your breath. Alastor and you were one now; no need for a soul contract. You were just one complete person.

“I love you, Y/N, only you, be my girl,” With a gentle nod from you and a quick soft kiss, those were the last words you could hear before falling asleep in his arms.

[7nuh]

MR. CRAWLING YANDERE HEADCANONS !

CW 𓂃 gn!reader, gaslighting, canon-typical violence

AN 𓂃 ik i said i'd have HCs for all of them but this ended up being too long so... 🧍‍♀️ also unedited bc i have an exam later ill be back to edit this later pls

Mr. Crawling is the protective type. He spends half of the entire game following you wherever you go and going through great lengths to protect you from the other residents of these cursed apartments. However, I can see how that protectiveness can get twisted in the long run when you remain completely helpless and unable to defend yourself. Mr. Crawling would have no choice but to step in and make decisions for you instead because he cannot afford to lose you just like that.

Out of all the homicipher men, mr. Crawling is the one who has the most respect for your choices and boundaries. He leaves when you tell him to, patiently guides you throughout this maze, and comforts you when you are upset— and he's never violent unless threatened.

Such a sweet and gentle guy would never hurt you intentionally. He loves you too much to hurt you.

That being said, though he'll never intentionally hurt you, he doesn't realize it whenever he's being possessive and suffocating you instead. After all, having wandered these halls for so long has desensitized him to violence and made him forget all his human memories. Simply put, his concept of love is warped in its own way. He doesn't understand nor remember how to healthily love another person by societal standards, but he (usually) means well.

He may not understand love but he knows one thing for sure— you're very precious to him. You're so full of life, so kind (to him), and so persistent to find your way home despite everything. Everyone else just kind of does their own thing around there... but you need him. You give him purpose and he's ready to give himself up for you in return.

But as much as he respects you, he knows you sometimes don't know any better. You almost got yourself killed multiple times despite his numerous warnings, and he's not confident you completely understand him just yet. So whenever he feels as though something got lost in translation, he won't hesitate to push you aside or cover for you in that instance. Thankfully, you can now regenerate your limbs.

You don't know any better. This sentiment becomes a mantra that repeats itself in his head over and over again. The two of you haven't made any significant progress on finding an exit, but you've almost died more than a dozen times by now. How are you supposed to survive without him?

What even is your home like? How can he be sure that you aren't going to get yourself killed over there too? Can he follow you there too to protect you? Can't you just stay here with him instead? Would that be so terrible? Of course he wants you to find whatever you're looking for...! it's just that...

The thought of losing you only intensifies his anxiety and over-protectiveness. Whether by departure or death, he cannot stand to be apart from you. Why are you so eager to leave this place anyway?

Mr. Crawling is gentle, but love can force him to be violent. He's not as cruel as the rest, but it doesn't mean he won't be when you're put in danger, especially when his possessiveness and overprotectiveness spiral out of control. He doesn't want to restrict you in any way because he loves and respects you too much to do that, but you just keep getting yourself in trouble. He overcompensates and goes overboard instead trying to protect you, even if it means killing someone.

And the thought of you moving on and forgetting him depresses him. He knows you had a life before this, but he wants a life with you in it. He'll be selfish just this once, but never again. He'll make sure you're safe here you so don't worry about that! Just don't leave him. Just stay with him, please.

It starts little by little. He starts telling you to rest more often and misleading you farther away from the elevator. Sometimes, when you tell him to leave you alone, he pretends not to understand you anymore. When he sees that dreaded green light from a distance, he tells you there is something malicious up ahead. In times like these, he's glad you're so blindly trusting of every word he says. It's difficult for him to watch your resolve break down, but it's for the best. When you're with him, you're safe and that all that's matters.

I can see some of the others like Ms. Bride and Mr. Silvair being in on it. Ms. Bride is very excited that her wedding garments will be used for their actual purpose this time whereas Mr. Silvair finds your unconventional relationship an interesting area of study. Whenever you find yourself 'lost' (escape from Mr. Crawling), they will redirect you back to him.

Eventually, you do give up. Maybe you even become more monstrous by the day and accept that you're better off here. He loved your persistence, but maybe he can show you giving up and that staying here isn't so bad. After all, you have him. He makes sure to be extra affectionate and cuddly after you give up <3

You'll learn to accept it, won't you? For him? Whatever's beyond those elevator doors can't possibly be better than being loved unconditionally and safe within his arms. You're even free to be yourself down here! You can be as violent as you want, and Mr. Crawling will happily watch you bludgeon someone to death on the sidelines with nothing but adoration.

Alternatively, if you do find your way home, he WILL follow you whether you like it or not. But if you don't want him there... well, do expect a few inconveniences. Whatever it takes to convince you to let him stay or to convince you to come back, really. Maybe like blood on the walls spelling 'me love you' and 'me miss you' or a cold pair of arms wrapping around your waist at night.

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Review Time : Fluffy Treatment

Note: This is my personal take to Zayne's most recent memory. Noting has been confirmed by Infold, so this is just full delulu mode as I dive in to Fluffy Treatment. Spoiler Alert for those who hasn't seen the memory yet.

Infold is really giving Zayne girlies the stablish relationship vibe with Zayne. And the fact that MC again reciprocates Zayne's affection is definitely win for me.

Once again, MC willingly volunteers herself to take care of Zayne and honestly, they become more playful with each other. The stiff and aloof Zayne has becoming more and more accustomed to banters and jokes. He even openly teases MC referring to the whole box of chocolate she ate at his place.

And speaking of her place, remember that pajama set she bought for Zayne in Cozy Afternoon? he is wearing them again at his home. Come to think of it, only Zayne have a pajama set.

And about sleeping and napping, they were sleeping on the same bed/couch again. There is no stopping them being so cozy around each other. Let's also note that feeling each other's warmth is making them relax and sleepy. At the ending of the Fluffy Treatment, lets take in the fact the even if the are both half asleep they are taking care of each other. Zayne is such a gentleman covering them up because the blanket slip on the side.

Zayne is also being territorial with MC (Note: Territorial not Jealous because he knows she belongs to him), he was never rude and he still let her choose what she wanted to do. This was shown when MC wanted to enter the Pet Café. Even though he was clearly upset by wanting to pet another cat, he still doesn't force MC to do what he wants.

When MC reluctantly leave the Pet Café, Zayne wants to make up to her by dressing up as a butler without 2nd thought so MC can both have a Cat and a Butler. This is another heart warming event of them compromising to ensure no hard or ill feelings between them. If they couldn't do one thing, they will surely find a way around it.

Zayne also shows how submissive he is to MC, he did not put a hat when she stops him, he comes with her at the mall even though he is really anxious in going out, he let's her take care of him and most importantly, the way he knelt down to returns MC's shoes. I take this act as a complete surrender.

I have 2 favorite part of this memory. - First, is when he sniff MC a few time and confirms that he have his scent on her and saying "You're all mine!" Gosh it's so hot I almost peed my pants. And after claiming her as his, his tail wraps around her waits. I did a little research and found out that when a cat "Tail Wrapped Around You: Touching you with the tail or wrapping it around you is one way your furry friend expresses affection, relaxation, and love." I lost it! Zayne really is in love with MC and he is saying it by doing thing more than word can say. Oh my gosh, I can't tell you how much I swoon at this. He is friggin hot!!! - 2nd is when he bites and lick MC's finger and tell her that it was his way in showing affection and then!!! MC reciprocates his affection by rubbing his cheeks. His reaction is so overwhelming. We have to remember that he is a cat at that time and his senses are heighted. Try to imagine how Euphotic he must have felt when she rubs his cheeks. His facial expressions is sensational. It seems like his eyes are rolling back.

Once again, Zayne and MC shows us what being equally in love is. It was always give and take for them. Always compromising and always so affectionate towards each other.

Zayne and MC becomes a safe haven for me. They give me happiness. I just hope that in their future memory, we will get to see them lounging in together in the Kindled moments.

[tfgalore]

An Unexpected Birthday Gift

I never expected the solar eclipse to be the greatest birthday present! See, this year, the solar eclipse fell on my birthday, and usually, I’d spend it alone at home. As a wimpy, nerdy 18 year old, I never had many friends and rarely went out either thanks to my health issues. But little did I know, everything was going to change that fateful day.

Apparently, it was huge news. Everyone who had even glances at the solar eclipse somehow swapped into another body. I had been looking out at it from the window of my room when I suddenly felt like I’d been yanked back. One second i was in my room, the next, I was in an unfamiliar area. I could hear the sounds of cars from the street, and as I scanned my surroundings, I realised I was in a gym. A rather fancy one, too. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the jacked stud staring back at me in the mirror. It took a while for the initial shock to wear off. That first few days was absolute chaos in the country and world.

I, for one, was thrilled with how things turned out. After I’d managed to orient myself and rent a hotel room for a few nights (thanks to the huge savings in my new account) while I sorted myself out.

I couldn’t stop flexing my arms and thighs. You should see the size of them. They’re like tree trunks! I couldn’t stop snapping photos of myself through the day, flashing a smile to the mirror as I admired my new, albeit stolen body. Can you blame me? Just look at that chiseled jawline and that six pack! I quickly figured out that I’d swapped bodies with a local jock named Carter. Apparently, he’d won the lottery in life. Hot body, stunning girlfriend, a trust fund to make sure he was set for life.

The grin that broke across my face when I saw his bulge was unmatched. Even through the briefs, the hefty outline of his girthy cock could be seen pressing out against the cloth prison, straining to break free. Who was I to deny it? That entire day was spent in my room, jerking off time and time again until his…or should I say, *my* girlfriend came over. Of course, she noticed something was up.

“You feeling alright Carter?” She asked. With a cocky smirk, I replied.

“Never been better.”

[curtins]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY — gojo satoru

prologue. → gojo was always charming, maddening and impossibly brilliant. a gift and a curse to the world. the love of your life, the loss of your life, the one that got away. you can only sit alone with his cold, lifeless form and wonder where it all went wrong. how do you mourn a star that burned itself out for the sake of the sky?

pairing. gojo satoru x on/off ex!reader

warnings+. heavy angst, flashbacks of a whirlwind and not so healthy relationship, description of death and injuries and what comes after the heart stops beating, suggestive content but nothing explicit. u could interpret this as unreliable narrator who didn't quite see gojo properly, or that gojo just wasn't a good partner to keep things interesting?

word count. 1.9k song inspiration. i love you, i'm sorry — gracie abrams

a/n. this was actually meant to be sweet but suddenly reader became an ex. and well...it snowballed 😁 peep the ttpd reference in the prologue

mp3. a habit to kick, the age-old curse. i tend to laugh whenever i'm sad, i stare at the crash, it actually works. making amends, this shit never ends. i'm wrong again.

there was no funeral for gojo.

and right now, the room smells of heavy antiseptics and medicated disinfectant. sterile white walls seem to echo every tick, tick of the clock, every scrape of shoko's surgical tools against the metal tray. but there is little that cuts deeper than the silence.

gojo's body lies in four neat pieces on the long table, stitched in places that cannot possibly hold him together, laid out like a broken constellation. shoko has allowed you to stay here, perhaps some form of pity?

you just sit in the corner of the lab, knees pulled to your chest and trembling with the effort it takes to keep breathing.

gojo satoru was always meant to burn out, wasn't he? he had been a lit match, vibrant and untouchable, like a streak of blue wildfire that seared much too hot, too fast.

satoru had been bruised fingertips on your rocking hips, he had been clashing teeth and tugged cherry-bitten lips, sweet caramel dissolving on your tongue.

he had been screaming matches in the rain, slams of an apartment door, a vicious and cruel tongue when provoked.

what he wasn't meant to be was a multitude of patchwork pieces, coated in patches of day-old rusty blood and shards of bone.

you just didn't think that someone like him belonged in this fragile, porcelain world. gojo had laughed too loud for it, fought too hard, loved too recklessly. its bitter to think of now — a cosmic power in a body of flesh and blood.

how could someone like him have ever lived to see his twilight years?

but you still always thought that he would. you thought of his arrogance, the small curl of his lips as he crowed on with a shadow in his jewel-tone eyes, "don't worry, i'm the strongest, remember?"

and so, you thought you had time. time to heal wounds that you had both inflicted on each other. time to try again.

but now there was no time. no gojo. just you, left to pick up the pieces of sukuna's little mercy.

shoko works quietly, and her hands are steady, a mask pulled over her face as tools gleam under the harsh light. she's running stitches through flesh that was once warm under your skin. you watch as she runs rolls of small bandages over his bisected waist, bandages imbued with special spells for gojo's posthumous...plan.

"i can't promise anything, you know. even if i put him back together, it will never be him. just okkotsu." the shadows around shoko's pretty eyes are ever deeper, violet and blue bruising the tired ache that paints her face.

what an awful and cruel plan. the ache in your heart is too great to even consider the trial that the young yuta is yet to face, to have to step into another's body. what a perversion of the world. but your mind lingers on the harsh reality that gojo must have known that there was no other ending to this story.

and you wonder briefly about whether he had finally reached the peace that he had sought. whether that those last moments, lying in the snow like a butchered and wounded animal had been painless. had the world gone quiet in his ears as snow fell around him? had he been glad of the end?

you don't respond to shoko. what could you say? there's nothing to fix. gojo is gone, and no amount of polypropylene sutures or reverse cursed technique could sew him back into the man who had leaned against the doorframe of your room last week, grinning with his haori thrown around his shoulders.

"you just take things too seriously," he had teased, mirth tickling his voice, poking around for a provocation, "i didn't even mean it like that. let's go get something to eat downstairs." "fuck you, satoru!" you had been furious with him at the time, he had drawn your ire with some pointless tussle and barbed comment. you had been launching a comb at him which only just deflected away from his infinity, when he had laughed. "all right, let me know when you feel better, pretty," and he had tugged his haori back over his broad frame, "we can do other things too, if you like. y'know, if you're still feeling hot-headed." "get out, you dog!" "love you too." and the great gojo satoru, a fuckin' grown man, has just giggled. and winked audaciously, as he practically sauntered away.

now his ridiculous smile is a ghost, and you wonder if you’ll ever stop seeing it when you close your eyes.

you've risen from your chair slowly, every joint stiff as if the grief has taken root in your bones, curling poison ivy around your limbs that make you want to tear your nails into your own skin.

the surgical table feels close, too far, too unbearable. but you reach out still, as your fingers tremble, and you let them hover over whatever is left of him. it's his right arm, only loosely held together by rough stitches.

touching him now is like plunging your hand into a winter river. it's cold, unyielding and so profoundly wrong. the skin beneath your fingers has lost all the elasticity of life, no longer soft of warm, but stiff in an alien way. there's a bitter clinging in the back of your throat when you wonder how shoko does this everyday. it's like touching the husk of something that was once sacred to you, and you trace the faint lines of veins, now a ghostly blue beneath waxen skin. the arm is heavy, dead weight against the table.

and there's the smell, faint but inescapable. the metallic tang of blood, now dried to a dark, rusted maroon. it lingers in the air, and you close your eyes to stop yourself from losing the contents of your stomach.

It’s like touching the husk of something once sacred, a relic robbed of its divine warmth.

your hand trembles as you pull away, the cold clinging to your palm like a memory you can’t shake. you want to scrub it off, to erase the feeling, but it’s already etched into your skin, into your mind. the absence of warmth feels like a punishment, a reminder of what you’ve lost and what you can never have back.

"i should've —" the words choke in your throat, sharp and jagged. you swallow them, but they’re stuck, just like the tears that refuse to fall. "i should've done more."

shoko glances up, her gaze as piercing as the scalpels she wields. "you did everything you could. so did satoru."

your eyes blur as they fix on his lifeless form, but now you're no longer seeing cold flesh on the table. no, you're somewhere else, far softer and far sweeter. somewhere before the world had turned to ash in your hands.

you're seventeen again, standing outside your favourite bakery after school, laughing so hard your ribs hurt. because gojo had just tried to bribe the shop owner for an extra box of mochi with a lopsided grin and misguided charm. the elderly woman behind the till had told him to get lost, before muttering something about the youths of the day were rude geezers.

gojo had always been like that, over the top and dramatic, dragging you into his whirlwind without asking, but you hadn't minded. not then.

every day he had brought home something, a sugar-dusted pastry, a delicate cake, a flimsy excuse to see you smile as he'd thrust the treat into your hands like he had conquered the world, and didn't he say that there was nothing in the world as sweet as your kisses?

you drank him in like honey, not realising how it would one day sour on your tongue.

and you still remember the day that gojo came home, buzzing with energy, his usual swagger somehow dialed up to an eleven. he could barely sit still as you watched him pace your shared apartment, his words tumbling out in excited burst. you had laughed and asked what on earth was going on with your sweet boyfriend, but had only grinned before reaching into his pocket and kneeling on the worn, wooden floor.

the ring had been small and simple, a thin silver band with a single shining gem — but knowing the spending habits of the head of the gojo clan, it must have been illustrious in its price. wide-eyed and earnest, for once, he had been stripped of all his bravado.

"i'm going to marry you," he had said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. as if you weren't already his, body and soul. heart and hands.

god, you had wanted this more than anything. you had said yes, a squealing and gushing yes! gojo had slipped the ring on your finger with hands that shook just a little, and the two of you had...rechristened almost every surface in the apartment that night.

but then, it was over. slowly at first, like the creeping edge of frost, until one day it felt like you were standing in the middle of a blizzard.

the kisses turned sharp, fleeting, like a blade grazing your skin. loving hands became cold and distant on one another, pulling away as if the other’s touch burned. you started slamming doors in anger, avoiding him in the quiet spaces of your home. and when you couldn’t avoid him, your words became weapons, dripping with venom and spite. he gave as good as he got — every snarky comment from your lips was met with one from his. pride clashed with pride, and neither of you would bend, not even for love.

the breaking point came after that mission. the one where everything had gone wrong. a cursed spirit of impossible strength. you’d taken a blow meant for him — too fast, too reckless — and nearly didn’t come back from it. you remember the blood, the way it soaked into the earth beneath you as gojo shouted your name over and over again, a sound you thought might split the sky.

you’d lived, somehow, but the cracks in your foundation were too wide to ignore. that night, you’d stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the ring on your finger, and finally let yourself bawl. when you’d slipped it off, it felt like your heart had gone with it.

what gojo didn’t know — what he never found out, would never find out now — was that you hadn’t discarded it. you couldn’t. even in the worst of it, when the fights left you shattered and raw, you couldn’t let it go. the tiny band of silver stayed tucked in your pocket, a quiet weight against your heart, a reminder of what could’ve been.

now, as you sit here, staring at what’s left of him, that weight feels unbearable. you reach into your pocket, your fingers brushing against the cool metal, and pull it out. the gem glints faintly in the fluorescent light, as if mocking you.

i still loved you, you think, the words echoing hollowly in your chest. i’m sorry.

but it’s too late now. too late for apologies, too late for second chances, too late for anything but this — grief that swallows you whole, a storm with no end in sight.

the ring slips from your trembling hand, clinking softly as it falls to the floor.

[unoislazy]

Promises

Vi x Reader (Part Two)

Love will drive you crazy.

A/N: Leave it to a woman to inspire me to write again. <3

“And promise you’ll come back?”

If only you’d known how long those words stuck with Vi. 

For years she had been kept in this prison, her age passing by faster than she could keep count as the days moved on. The gray walls and dreary interior she had become so accustomed to  would be her undoing, she thought. The constant torment by the guards, being forced to live with those she always opposed, every reminder that she needed to get out, all of it in the end would amount to nothing. She feared she’d become nothing more than a statistic among the rest of the previous lane's residents.

She feared she’d never get back to you.

That was, of course, until a strange enforcer came to her rescue. Well�� rescue was a strong word. In her eyes it was as if she was being taken from one cage to another.

“In what mad world would I trust someone like you?” She remembered the girl saying. 

“Someone like you.” 

They were all the same.

But she knew this girl was her best bet out of this place. Back to her sister and back to you. 

So, with a slightly wounded ego and a more hopeful outlook on life, given her two goals were now closer than ever, she left with the enforcer.

It was as if she appeared from nowhere. When she showed up, Vi truthfully thought she was going to get another “talk”. Instead, however, she was set free. With a price of course. She knew better than anyone than to trust an enforcer, so she kept her distance. Although, she couldn’t help but be thankful for her help even if it meant giving some kind of information in return. 

For the first time in years, Vi was able to move freely, hear the sounds of people bustling about, and see actual colors other than the dismal gray that engulfed the entirety of Stillwater. She wasn’t going to let some enforcer stop her from at least stretching her legs as she got reacclimated to the world around her. It wasn’t until the enforcer caught up with her once again did she realize she wasn’t going to just leave her alone. 

“Where are we going?” The enforcer asked. Vi had learned her name to be Caitlyn, and honestly she was just trying to lose her but somehow she always found her way back. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, not even bothering to turn back towards her. 

“We’re going to visit a friend.” She answered simply, her hood pulled up to cover her tattooed skin and her ever present pink hair.  Although the crowd of the people of the lanes was a diverse bunch, someone like Vi would still be easily recognizable for those who knew to look for her, and she was sure there would be a few. 

“Will this friend help us?” Caitlyn questioned skeptically, quickening her pace for a moment to catch up with Vi before slowing her pace once again. It was clear she was unsure of Vi's methods, probably letting what she had “learned” about the people of the undercity make her imagination go wild. She too kept her hood up, but less out of keeping her identity hidden, and more as if she was trying to shield herself from the strange new world around her. She had never been to the fissures first hand… and it was a lot to take in. 

With her hands tucked into the pockets of her new, freshly stolen jacket, Vi sighed.

“If I say yes will you hurry up?” She asked with a sarcastically sweet smile on her face as she turned slightly to Caitlyn. The blue haired enforcer, now left with little options given that Vi was her only sense of direction, simply nodded in response and followed wherever Vi was headed with a hastened pace. 

Luckily for Caitlyn, their route didn’t contain any parkour. 

Vi hurriedly made her way through the streets of the Undercity with one place in mind. She had no idea where you could be after all these years, if you were even still here. So, to keep from losing her sanity all at once, she started at the place where everything used to make sense. She couldn’t help but feel her heartbeat quicken ever so slightly, fluttering with even a tinge of hope that things would be just as they once were. With you waiting outside the door, wondering when she’d be free to hang out. Just like how it used to be.

But instead of being greeted with both the nostalgic warm glow off the sign outside of the bar, and you waiting by the door, she was met with a jarring bright green neon eye that framed the sign. People hung around outside, some clearly drunk off their ass, while others picked fights. Two guards stood outside, keeping people out of the, what seemed to now be exclusive, bar. 

This wasn’t right. None of this was. 

Vi’s grip on the bar that he hands rested on tightened as she looked at the scene before her. If this had changed, she couldn’t imagine what else had happened. 

And now she hadn’t a clue in the world where to look for you.

Little did she know, you really weren’t that far from her. 

You, like many others in the Undercity, had to make ends meet. 

You had to learn to survive.

And as a kid who lost everyone close to them, you really didn’t have many choices. So, you started from the bottom, working in the mines as many other kids your age did and worked your way up. Unfortunately, working in the mines meant you were working for Silco. The kingpin of the lanes. You couldn’t escape him if you tried. No one could, it seemed. The more you worked up and out of the mines, the closer you got to the man himself. Of course you never got to any influential role like his right hand. That title was reserved for Sevika.

But you didn’t need anything like that. You just wanted to survive, you didn’t want to have any real influence. 

Who knew from starting out in the mines, you would one day work your way up into working in the bar that you once thought to be a home of some sorts. In your eyes, everyone but Powder had died in that accident all those years ago. You never did find out exactly what had happened and you figured it would be for the best not to ask. That was the best way to get around in a place that involved such sketchy business. 

Keep your head down and don’t ask questions. 

That’s how you got as far as you did. 

What’s the point in asking questions you probably don’t want the answers to.

Every day you came into this bar to work, you couldn’t help but feel an unfathomable weight of guilt on your shoulders. You felt as if you let this happen. You felt as if you could’ve done something to stop Silco from practically desecrating the one thing everyone had left of Vander, other than the statue that was built in his honor. You felt as if you had done a disservice to Vi.

You knew how much Vi cared about those around her, and of course you also knew how much her sister meant to her. You never directly told her but you always knew that if anything had happened to Vi or Vander, you’d help out Powder. 

But when the need arose, you realized far too late.

The first day you had come in to work at your new position, just as a regular busser, you hadn’t expected much. You had no interest in the company Silco kept so you never made it your business. Until one day, you were cleaning off a table when a blue haired girl came waltzing in the front door. Her demeanor was cheerful but… with a noticeable edge. There was something off about her. You simply ignored it, figuring it was not worth asking questions until you heard her laugh. 

It was as if a strike of lightning struck through your entire being at that moment.

It couldn’t be. Could it?

You slowly turned once again to look back at the blue haired girl. A blue haired girl with even bluer eyes. Her laugh was identical to the one you had come to know very well all those years ago. It was then it clicked with you, that girl was Powder. She was here all along and you never knew. She was alive this whole time. You could’ve done something. You could’ve helped. And instead, here she was under Silcos care when she should’ve been under yours.

But then again, what could you have done? You too were just a child barely able to scrape together enough to make a living on your own, let alone take care of another altogether. Clearly that's not what mattered, what mattered was keeping Powder safe, what mattered was doing what you had secretly promised to Vi. What mattered was-

“Did you hear me?” A low voice broke you from your train of thought as you fluttered your eyelids and shook your head. You then looked up at the women before you who had spoken up just moments prior. You panicked a bit, immediately recognizing the woman to be Sevika, Silco’s cold hearted right hand. She grumbled under her breath knowing damn well you hadn’t heard a single word she just said before repeating,

“Clean this up.” She huffed, her eyelids lowering slightly as she stared at you. 

“Right.” You replied quickly before quickly moving to grab your bucket and practically scooping all the dirty dishes into it to bring back to clean. You tried not to draw too much attention to yourself by just doing what was asked of you quick and easy, but it was hard not to let your mind run away from you when being in a place such as this. A place that meant so much to you and you could do nothing but sit back and watch it burn. 

As you went back to clean the dishes, you noticed Sevika had gotten up and began to follow you. Great, you upset one of the three main people you never wanted to get on the bad side of.

Good going. 

You braced yourself to be ridiculed or fired before you heard Sevika speak up.

“Hey, you.” She called out, to which you turned around, a questioning look on your face as you looked behind you before looking back at her. “Yes, you. Come here.” She called out, now very clearly looking directly at you. If you were wearing boots you’d be shaking in them by now. You listened, of course, and walked towards her, leaving behind your container of dishes on a counter nearby. 

Once you made your way towards her, you simply made a gesture of acknowledgement, not speaking up as you waited for her to continue. 

“I need you to handle something for me. You don’t talk much, that’s good.” She spoke, her voice low and gritty as she leaned towards you as if trying to keep, whatever she was about to let you in on, a secret. You were just a busser, you weren’t supposed to be involved in any of the bigger things, this isn't what you wanted. 

Then again, you were just a busser, so there was no possible way that whatever Sevika wanted to suddenly burden you with was going to be all that damning, right?

“I have a ‘meeting’ tomorrow and I need someone else to go with. Don’t talk, don’t play, don;t do anything, you just have to be there. Got it?” She asked, well actually more like demanded. Then you realized, this ‘meeting’ was just another one of her gambling sessions. She must be playing something that involves two players and as someone who clearly doesn’t want to be in the way, she wouldn’t have to worry about you trying to snuff her out while playing. 

You felt as if the entire weight of the world lifted off of your shoulders. 

“Got it.” You responded. 

“Rotten luck boys.” Sevika gloated, throwing her deck onto the table as the two men before both of you huffed and growled having now the last majority of their money that they likely had saved for this occasion.

Just before she could say anything else, the sound of a sudden impact flew through the air, and before you could ever process what had just happened you watched as a streak of pink flew past your vision. The two men that had once been sitting before you had scurried off, grabbing some of their belongings in the process, clearly not wanting to be involved. 

You looked over to Sevika who was now partly on the floor as she grasped her jaw before looking up at the culprit. 

“Vi?” You whispered at the same time as Sevika as you both gazed upon the pink haired woman who currently had her back turned towards you.

Vi quickly turned back around to face you both, her eyes quickly glancing at you but her gaze didn’t linger as her focus was clearly on Sevika. Without another word shared between the two of them, punches were thrown, blows were dealt, and the sound of faces hitting concrete became more frequent than you ever would have liked it to.

You backed off, staring at the scrap before you as your eyes remained locked on the pink haired woman. There was no way that was Vi. It couldn’t be, she was killed with everyone else right? Perhaps, this was just a woman who just happened to look like Vi..? You racked through your brain with a million reasons for this to somehow be possible. None of which involved this truly being Vi. You didn’t want to let your hopes up like that. 

It wasn’t until you tuned back into the fight had you realized that Vi had kicked Sevika through a wall and was now holding her to the ground.

“Where’s my sister, where is he keeping her!” She demanded, holding her fist to Sevika’s face. It was then you realized, this really was Vi. From the voice, the fighting ability, the hair. You couldn’t deny it, it truly was her.

Your heart raced with excitement as you realized she was alive. She was really alive.

But if Sevika had her way, that wouldn’t be the case for long. 

She drove her clawed metal hand into Vi’s abdomen, wounding her greatly. 

You didn’t know what to do, if you spoke out against Sevika and lived you would be hunted for sport by Silco’s men, or Sevika herself. If you didn’t do anything, Vi was right on track to die. 

Before you could make a decision, you heard the whirring of Sevika’s arm as she stood once again, grabbing Vi and holding her in place.

“Hm, oh. And I almost forgot, a friend of yours wanted to say hi.” She taunted as she tilted Vi’s dreary face towards you. You watched as her face that was riddled with pain changed ever so slightly with shock as she recognized you. 

“Sunshine…?” She said quietly. The nickname that she had given you all those years ago.  before you both turned back to Sevika as the sound of her arm powering up filled the air. Vi looked as if she had given up by this point, having no more strength in her to fight. 

You had to help, you had to do something. You weren’t going to sit by and let this happen.

You weren’t going to lose her again.

------------------------------------------

Tag list

@bigbangxd24

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Take You There III

Song that inspired this chapter...

A/N: Soooo sorry for the wait, life was lifting y'all. Thank you for your patience and for enjoying this story enough to seek more 💕 thanks for coming back to read!! Also please lemme know how you're liking the soundtrack if you're listening to the music while you read 👀 an excerpt from chapter 4 will be at the end of this one!!!

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reign Adisa (black female OC)

Warning: we gettin a lil spicy, but just a little! Rated-minors fuck off.

Word count: 3,270

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Chapter 3

The military was where Terry first felt the sting of disillusionment. He had entered service with a youthful sense of purpose, convinced he was part of something honorable, and prideful that his martial arts expertise qualified him to guide his peers. But stories from fellow soldiers—men and women who came back changed, scarred by the reality of their missions—shattered that idealism, and showed him how spared he was to be kept stateside. The final blow came with his cousin’s death, a casualty not of war but of a system that prioritized power over people. His cousin’s laugh, once bright and infectious, had been silenced by negligence that no amount of money or apologies could ever mend.

Terry carried that betrayal deep in his chest. It made him wary, made him question the intentions behind every offer, every outstretched hand, every good thing. Trusting had cost him too much, and he vowed never to let that happen again. This skepticism seeped into every part of his life; even joy felt like a prelude to loss.

When he met Reign, with her warm eyes and calm energy, it was as if he’d been thrown a lifeline. But she felt too good, too gentle, like something that might be taken from him the moment he allowed himself to believe in it.

The trauma of his cousin's death made it hard for him to believe that good things could be real and lasting. The fear of another betrayal, of life snatching something precious away again, gnawed at him. With Reign, this fear was magnified—she was the first person since that living hell who’d melted his defense with her warm brown eyes, and made him want to trust in something beyond the battle-ready vigilance he had carried for so long.

The thought of Reign being "too good to be true" wasn’t just about her; it was about him grappling with whether he could accept something untainted after years of disillusionment. The fear of losing her, or of her seeing the fractured parts of him and walking away, mirrored the dread he felt watching life slip away from those he’d once admired and loved. But in her, he found something that challenged his narrative: maybe this time, he was allowed to hold on without the ground being pulled out from under him. 

His therapist was impressed. Terry was making immense progress towards healing from ptsd, and he was pleasantly surprised at Reign’s influence over his client, how she managed to infect him with hope and optimism so quickly. But still, Terry’s hesitancy was heartbreaking, and Mr. Shaw hoped he’d get through to Terry before the next time he saw Reign.

“Let me ask you this: what would it mean if you allowed yourself to trust this? To believe that Reign’s presence isn’t a trick or something that’s about to be taken away?”

Terry’s brow furrowed for a moment, and Mr. Shaw could see a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes even through the computer screen. “It’d mean… it’d mean believing that I deserve to be happy. That maybe I’ve paid my dues, that life will take it easy on me for a second. But that’s a scary thought to have Doc.”

Mr. Shaw leaned closer to his webcam with a soft, encouraging smile. “Healing isn’t linear, Terry. It’s okay to feel scared. But what I’m hearing is that you want this. And maybe, that’s a start. Maybe, it’s worth giving yourself permission to try,” He paused to let Terry ponder over that, and then continued “maybe it's okay to do things scared.”

~~~~~~~

Reign didn’t want Terry to feel like she saw right through him, but she did, because she’d been there before. When she was learning to trust again, learning to live again, she needed patience and grace. She’d needed compassionate lovers that didn’t rush her as she found herself again, and rediscovered her footing in this ever changing world. It was really a hit or miss with her romantic life, but she took the time she needed and was all the better for it.

She found it endearing, and intoxicating, that Terry wanted to try with her, and was so genuine about his intentions. She respected that he wanted her to take the lead, it forced her to be honest with herself, about how deeply she wanted to experience all of him. They took turns texting each other since she last saw him, and she’d even managed to get a few voice notes from him that she saved to her phone to listen to repeatedly like some crushing school girl. 

After 2 days of being sweet with each other and skirting around it, she sent him the coordinates to meet her at, her fingers lingering a bit on her screen before pressing send. There was something thrilling about bringing him to a place she knew he’d enjoy, a space where they could both be in their element. She could already imagine him, standing out against the backdrop of the trees, his easy grin and the way his skin would gleam in the light… She sighed, shaking her head. Her thoughts had really been getting away from her lately.

She was starting to think he was a solo Sunday kind of guy when he texted her back saying he could meet her there in 2 hours. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and smiled, that’s just enough time to get all their goodies and meet him at the nature preserve. 

~~~~~~~

As Terry pulled into the nature park’s parking lot, he turned off the engine and sat in silence for a moment, taking in the sights around him. Towering trees lined the trailheads, their leaves rustling in the warm Texas breeze. He rolled down his window, letting the fresh, earthy smell settle into his senses, grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in ages. There was something indescribably soothing about this place—the kind of quiet that spoke to his soul without saying a word. It was the type of peace he’d been craving, like a balm on the unspoken worries that still tugged at his spirit.

And Reign had brought him here. She’d chosen a place that would calm his mind and allow him to just… be. The thought stirred something deep inside him, filling him with a sense of gratitude he couldn’t quite put into words. She was learning him so quickly, understanding his needs before he even voiced them, and that alone humbled him. He hadn’t met anyone who listened to him like this, not with her level of intention, of depth. It made him feel more seen than he had in years. He wanted to dedicate his time to learning her just as intuitively, and he would if she let him.

He checked his phone and saw her text again, the cheekiness of it making him chuckle.

"And don’t use the gps to find me, soldier. There are maps outside the welcome center 🫡."

This girl. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she threw him another curveball. And he was learning not to have any expectations for her—she’d surprise him every time, and he loved it. It was refreshing, the thrill of never knowing what she’d do next.

He grabbed one of the trail maps from the welcome center and studied it with growing excitement, tracing the coordinates she’d sent him to a meadow on the far side of the park. Of course, she’d be out in the open, somewhere wild and free. It suited her. And the idea of tracking her down, following the hints she left like breadcrumbs, sparked something almost primal in him. She’d soon learn he loved a good hunt, especially one that led to her.

With a grin, he folded the map and tucked it securely into his heavy backpack before setting off, his steps settling into an easy jog. The landscape opened up around him, sunlight filtering through the trees, and he could already feel that magnetic pull in his chest, that need to be near her. It was undeniable, the way she drew him in, like some force of nature itself. His heartbeat picked up as he neared her coordinates, anticipation mixing with the calmness that only she seemed to bring.

Today, he was more than ready to follow wherever she led him.

~~~~~~~

Terry found her.

She looked like she belonged here, part of the landscape itself—reclining on a blanket she’d spread out for them, nestled between a wall of wildflowers on one side and tall trees on the other. The sun kissed her face whenever a breeze stirred the branches above. Terry held his breath, instinctively raising his phone to capture her just like this: eyes closed, relaxed, her white-painted toes wiggling contentedly in the grass. She was the perfect depiction of serenity. The breeze carried her jasmine scent, mingling with the wildflowers, and he felt his mouth water as a hunger grew within him.

As he edged closer, he took in the way her dark cropped shirt and matching biker shorts hugged her curves. His gaze lingered on her exposed, soft thighs, and he bit his lip, longing to leave a trail of kisses along that smooth skin. He was enraptured, his body pulling him forward of its own accord. Just then, his foot came down on a stick, and it cracked beneath him, snapping her out of her trance.

She sat up quickly, squinting, clearly struggling to make sense of the fuzzy figure approaching. Terry smiled, crouching down beside her, picking up her glasses from the blanket. 

“You really need to be more aware of your surroundings, pretty girl,” he murmured, slipping the frames gently onto the bridge of her nose. His fingers found her braids, smoothing them away from her face as he held her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

Reign’s lips curved into a soft, easy smile, her hands finding their way to his sturdy thighs, grounding herself in the warmth of him.  A spark danced in her eyes, the playful challenge he’d come to love. She leaned up towards him, her breath a soft whisper against his lips. “You found me,” she teased, voice low, “good boy.”

He blinked, stunned for a moment and dick hardening in response, but then her quick, sticky-sweet kiss left him reeling, wanting more, just as she fell back against the blanket with a mischievous laugh. Terry exhaled, staring down at her, his own laughter echoing hers as he wondered what he’d done to have this beautiful, maddening woman in his life. Shaking his head, he shrugged off his backpack, settling in beside her, his heart feeling lighter the more time he spent with her.

“You didn’t make it hard for me to find you, Reign.” His deep voice wrapped around her name, and she felt a delicious shiver run through her. Trying to disguise her reaction, she rolled onto her side to face him. He’d mimicked her earlier pose, lying on his back with his hands behind his head, biceps flexing, looking effortlessly relaxed. She watched his broad chest rise and fall with each slow inhale, his long lashes fluttering as he watched the drifting clouds. He looked exactly like he did in her secret fantasies.

“I’ll make it harder next time, then,” she teased, before spotting the picnic basket she’d brought. “Oh!” She grinned. “I almost forgot—I brought goodies for us!” Terry’s gaze didn’t waver as he watched her shift positions.

In a bold move, Reign swung herself over him, straddling his hips, settling her weight comfortably against him. Terry tensed beneath her, his eyes darkening. She tried to appear casual, squeezing his hips with her thighs as she busied herself pulling out sandwiches and snacks, chattering about where she got them and how much she hoped he’d like them.

Terry didn’t hear a single word really. She felt so warm on top of him, just like she had on her balcony. And she looked so pretty from this angle, glasses cutely sliding down her nose, braids messily falling in her face. He could imagine how sexily she’d bounce on him, her melodic voice moaning his name, making such a mess with her wet-

“Terry?” her voice and the feeling of her hand softly rubbing up and down his chest snapped his attention back to her. His breathing was stuttered, his eyes cloudy with lust, his hardness pressing right into her clothed center. She tilted her head to the side, almost innocently, and raised a brow with a sweet smile.

“You hungry?” Reign could tell by the dark hue of his eyes that she was playing a dangerous game. Terry moved his hands from behind his head to firmly grip her thighs and hold her steady. She gasped as he rolled his hips up into her, pressing his bulge exactly where she needed him the most. 

“Yes.” His voice was rough, almost a growl, and the single word was packed with layers of meaning. Reign felt her body flush and her shyness return to the surface. She quickly climbed off of him with a nervous laugh and Terry took a deep, calming breath. 

“Great!” Reign’s voice came out squeaky in that way it always does when he left her flustered, “Dig in!”.

~~~~~~~

They ate slowly, savoring both the food and each other’s company. Terry found himself talking more than he had with her before, letting himself be pulled along by Reign’s quiet encouragement, her smile and laughter drawing him further out of his shell. He shared stories from his time in the military, but carefully chose the lighter ones, filled with camaraderie and the kind of loyalty he hadn’t realized he missed so much.

At one point, he caught himself pausing, unsure if he should say what was on his mind. But something about the way Reign looked at him—completely open, with no judgment, just a quiet patience—made him feel like he could keep going.

“You’ve got this aura about you, you know?” His deep voice came out almost shyly, and his piercing eyes took in all of her features. Her laughter bubbled up, soft and genuine, and it settled something deep within him.

“Oh?” she asked, leaning in from where she sat next to him, gently bumping his shoulder encouraging him to continue, her eyes alight with curiosity. “What kind of aura do I have?”

He paused, weighing his words. “It’s like… you quiet all the noise in my head.” He was taken aback by his own honesty. “I haven’t felt that way with anyone else.”

She gave him a smile, taking in every word without interrupting. And the more he spoke, the more he realized how much he wanted her to know—how desperately he wanted her to understand this unspoken connection that he hadn’t been able to put into words.

They fell into easy conversation after that, intimately feeding each other food here and there, and he realized he wanted to know her in ways he hadn’t been interested in knowing anyone else ever—her past, her dreams, the quietest parts of her mind. And he shared just as much with her as she did with him, her questions gentle but curious, drawing out memories and stories he hadn’t thought of in years. He watched her as he spoke, the way her expressions shifted with each story, each reaction giving him a little more permission to let his guard down.

A thought crossed his mind as he looked at her, laughing softly at something he’d just said. He wondered if she realized how rare it was for him to feel this… safe. To feel so seen without the need to shield himself. She was only just beginning to know him, but there was an honesty and ease between them that he was finding harder and harder to resist. 

They found themselves lying side by side again as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting everything in a golden shine. This time, Terry was propped up on his side, taking in the way her skin seemed to glow in the fading light. Reign stretched out languidly, like a contented cat, her arms reaching above her head, shifting her body just a little closer to his warmth without even realizing it. His eyes traveled over the curve of her torso, drawn to the delicate lotus etched on her ribs. With a gentleness that disguised his hunger for her, he lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles softly over the inked petals, tracing them as if they held a secret meant only for him. 

“I have a confession to make, Reign,” Terry’s voice was a low rumble as his knuckles brushed over her belly button. She squirmed at the tickling sensation, cracking one eye open to give him a suspicious, playful look.

“Well, go on then, Terry. I’m about to explode from the suspense of it all,” she teased, her voice dripping with mock impatience. He clenched his jaw to keep from laughing at her bratty tone—she was such a smart ass.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he flipped his hand, letting his palm settle warmly against her lower tummy, just above the high waistband of her shorts. Reign’s breath caught, and she felt her pulse quicken as both her eyes opened, now fully alert and fixed on him.

“I haven’t been a good boy, actually,” he murmured, his gaze darkening, “not with the thoughts I’ve been having about you.”

The quiet intensity in his voice washed over her, and the heat of his hand was almost burning. Reign’s body responded instantly, a flush of desire spreading like wildfire, making her shift beneath him. “Yeah?” Her voice came out a little breathless, but she didn’t try to hide it, letting the weight of her want show.

Terry nodded with solemn honesty, his gaze unwavering, serious in a way that made her heart thud harder. When it came to her, he wouldn’t lie—not about anything. Reign hummed thoughtfully, her gaze lingering over him as she brought one hand to wrap her fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand down with unhurried purpose. She stopped just as his fingertips brushed under the band of her shorts and panties.

“Feel me.” Reign’s tone left no room for argument, not that Terry even wanted to protest in the first place. His long fingers eased their way lower, feeling the smooth skin and small tuft of soft hair, his watchful eyes locked on hers the entire time. He let out a low groan when he felt how hot and slick she was, his fingers easily slipping around her hard nub causing her lashes to flutter before she focused her gaze on him again.

“I’ve been having those same thoughts Terry.” Her sweet voice was deeper now, and Terry felt himself pulse under the layers of constricting clothes he had on. Reign’s breath hitched as she felt his thick fingertips make another circle around her clit, drawing more wetness from her. 

“We should stop thinking so hard then, pretty girl.” Terry gently pulled his hand out from the tempting oasis between her thighs, and she watched awestruck as he sucked her sweetness clean off of his fingers, a pleasure filled rumble leaving his chest. “We can finish this at my place-” Reign was already sitting up before he could finish, haphazardly throwing shit in the picnic basket causing Terry to let out a hearty laugh at her eagerness.

***

An excerpt from chapter 4...

“I’ve been wanting to be here…” his voice husky from his visceral need for her, and Reign's moans increased in volume at how she could somehow feel his voice in the depth of her being, right where his tip repeatedly kissed her cervix. 

“…in this moment with you, for too long Reign.” He could hardly speak, the feeling of her warm pussy squeezing around him in response to his words, it was too much. Reign moaned louder, eyes shut tightly at his increased thrusting, getting lost in all he was giving her. 

“Don’t hold back shit from me, baby girl. Give me everything.” 

~~~~~~~

Let me know what you think 🤭

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @slutsareteacherstoo @liatreads @sageispunk @teddybeerz @eviescloset @planetblaque @soft-persephone @violetmuses @miyuhpapayuh @iterum-incipi @blackgurlnhermoods @helloncrocs @blyffe @meannaim @nun0ir @onherereading @eilujion @maria-gab-rielle @gg-trini @gwenda-fav @violetlovezzz @keyaho @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @honeytoffee @avoidthings @brattyfics @abeautifulmindexposed @blowmymbackout @kumkaniudaku @pocketsizedpanther @mysecretbleedingheart @amyhennessyhouse @tvchi @aristasworld @stabrichie @geriixox

[dreamsarebutterflies]

I didn't mean this particular scene or by the end of the manga but BEFORE that obviously. Ranma's character development is never stopping and that's what I love the most about his character: he's willing to learn and I do believe he knows himself too. After all, you need to if you try to be a master of martial arts.

Independently of the curse itself, parental pressure played a role in this idea of what a man is supposed to be. First, Genma and his mother made a freaking pact to make a MAN™ out of him. The alternative is DEATH. That alone would put things into your teenage head.

Despite this, he inherited his mother's kindness and he's genuine. Those parts can be seen as feminine in the most traditional ways. He wasn't raised to expose these qualities to the world, which makes him awkward at times when he wants to be nice to Akane for example. To be fair, he turned out fine as far as traditional boys go. He can be a jerk but he's a good kid who has actual affection for all these crazy people coming at him and Akane. If they get into trouble or ask for his help, he'd probably assist them.

Ranma wishing to be a FULL man isnt something new but the reasons evolve as the story goes on. Not necessarily because he changes or because he meets new people but we, as an audience, learn more and more about him.

You cannot ignore that this kid who didn't see his mother for ten years and lived in his father's fear of disappointing her for the whole while he was cursed, deeply wished to cancel this part of him so he could get home and see his mother again (and get rid of one more threat to his life). This reason surely existed before she was introduced. Because, as you said, Ranma has no idea what a home is. His mother was initially home. Now, the idea of Home is Akane and what brought them to be together. You cannot tell me he didn't put it into his head, one way or another, that for him to deserve to stay there with her, he had to be a Man™.

Isn't an explicit notion but the simple fact that Ranma mentions getting back to Akane as he is here is a hint that he wanted to return to her as a complete man again at some point. So it was an objective as well until now. It's not insane to interpret it that way, because she believes in him and he learned not to disappoint. But it's okay if he fails this time because he knows that's not really what Akane needs or wants, she knows and accepts him as he is, entirely.

Now he even has a reason not to be selfish, unlike his father. If you stretch it, you can assume that Ranma breaking the curse has never been something that he wanted for himself, it was yet again all about what his parents wanted for him. What always shocked me when I started the show years ago was how docile he was in the first episode. Meeting Akane, he learnt to express himself more and was finally allowed to want and need things for himself. He didn't need to live in survival mode anymore, not just because he had a roof and free food but because people around him are not threatening him on a daily basis. Until then, he never had to make real decisions for himself. Akane gave him a safe space to be who he was and think outside of his parents' unrealistic expectations.

Also, that's just an idea but: Ranma seems to believe in breaking the curse to make Akane happy. I wonder if that's also a way to erase the primordial fight: he lied to her and pretended to be a girl on day 1. Before this event, Akane was very welcoming and nice to him. Probably the first person to act that way towards him in years, mind you. Perhaps it would be a way to make things right.

Martial arts are Ranma's life, but the training trips with Genma were more about survival. In a way, he doesn't start living until he finds a home with the Tendos, but even more, Akane is home. When he's at death's door, Akane is the one who brings him back. She is his will to live.