#anyway i was right before so counting on being right again

[rafesbabyg1rl]

You were asking for reqs for rafe x reader, if you are taking them, I have one in mind. In which rafe is extremely possesive of bsf reader, and gets easily jealous. One day she was at a kook party, and a guy approached her and they started to talk and that sh*t went down, rafe got aggressive and almost beat the guy to a pulp. Reader is like a shy cute innocent, bimbo type. And smut after the scene if you write it.

Summary: Innocent!reader X possessive!Rafe, bestfriend!reader X bestfriend!Rafe. Summary is basically the anonymous ask!

Warnings: Rafe is possessive of reader. Established friendship. Rafe almost beats a guy to death. Mentions of drugs (no actual drug use), alcohol consumption. Lots of smut; p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, SLIGHT degradation (some praise too). The classic 'what are we' at the end. The L word.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Hello Beauties! Thank you for the support and kindness you've all shown me. And thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did your idea justice. Sorry that this is a bit long, it just sort of happened. Also, I hope you all enjoyed the holiday yesterday, well those that celebrate. I'm hoping to finish part four of The Watcher soon so I can get it out, life has just been so exhausting. Anyways, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

Your best friend, Rafe, had asked you to go to a party with him. Well, more like he had told you to go. Although it’s not like you’d ever miss the opportunity to party with your best friend. So, here you are; walking around the side of Topper’s house, looking for Rafe. You two didn’t come together, he got here before you. He knows you don’t love being around his ‘friends’ and their various illegal substances, even though he says he’s clean, he likes to have time with them before you get there. 

You round a corner, now entering the Thorton’s backyard. You look for Rafe as you work your way through the loud and busy crowd. You hear a friend call your name, you turn your head to her, and she waves you over. You approach her and a few others with a smile. You greet them.

The other girls chat amongst themselves as your friend speaks up, shouting over the music. “Hey!” She’s over enthusiastic per regular, probably a bit drunk too.

“Hey!” You shout back. 

She begins, “Oh my god! I have to tell you something. Guess who I saw—”. Usually, you’d want to hear all the gossip she’s about to ramble to you, but not right now. “Do you know where Rafe is?” You shout over her, cutting her off.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer to you so she can hear you.

“Do you know—” You’re suddenly interrupted by some guy standing beside you. You turn to face him.

“Hey.” He says, his tone confident. A cocky grin spreads across his face.

“Hi.” You smile politely, “Do I know you?”. You say hurriedly before turning back to your friend. She looks between you and the guy a few times before facing you and giving you a knowing smirk. You know what that look means and before you can say anything, she walks away. Leaving you alone with him. You roll your eyes at her playfully, although you really are annoyed that she didn’t tell you where Rafe is. 

Slowly, you turn your head back to the guy, flashing him another fake smile. He grins again before speaking, “No…no you don’t.” He pauses, stepping a bit closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the music as loud. “I’m Devin.”

Your fake smile is getting awkward, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about talking to him right now. “Nice to meet you, Devin. B-but I need to–”

Devin cuts you off, “Let me get you a drink.” 

You laugh shyly, “Oh...I-I’m okay, I actually have to…”

“Let me just get you a drink, it’ll only take a second.” He moves closer to rest his hand on your lower back for a slight moment, to get you to turn toward the drinks. 

Rafe was on the back patio sitting on one of the couches when someone had mentioned to him that they saw you. He went to go and find you, which is when he spotted you laughing with some guy, who moments later put his hand on you. Rafe’s already had a few drinks tonight, so his judgment clouded even more than usual, especially when it comes to you. 

As you walk towards the drinks, Devin’s hand falls and he follows close behind you. 

After a moment, you hear a mix of gasps and ‘ooohh’s’ from everyone. You turn to look behind you where everyone seems to be gathering. You find that Devin isn’t behind you anymore.

Immediately your eyes land on some commotion in the crowd, you squeeze through the ring of people forming around the area. Shit. You run forwards, pausing just before the fight. 

Devin is flat on his back, Rafe straddling him. Rafe has Devin’s shirt clenched in one fist, holding his head off the ground as he repeatedly drives his other fist into Devin’s face. 

“Rafe!” You shout. Keeping your distance, not wanting to get too close while he’s out of control. You’ve seen how he can get. In the years that you two have been friends, you’ve had to calm him down from countless fights, since nobody else can ever seem to do it. But, when nobody else steps in to try and stop the fight, you step closer, knowing something has to be done. “Rafe, stop! Stop it!” You scream. 

Devin’s completely unconscious, his nose is probably broken, but you can’t really tell; his face is a swollen mess of blood and bruises. You can’t stand here and watch anymore, and nobody seems to be listening to your cries for help. Because nobody is stupid enough to get in Rafe’s way while he’s like this. You step behind Rafe, putting your hands on his shoulders. You try to pull him back all the while trying not to get punched.

“Rafe! Look at me! Look at me, Ray!” Rafe turns his head to the side, momentarily stopping his actions, letting Devin’s head rest on the floor. You put a hand up to cup his cheek. Speaking quietly now as you plead to him. “Rafe…c’mon, that’s good, h-he’s had enough…”. Your tears slow, but your breath is still erratic as you look at the unconscious man. 

Rafe turns back to the guy, your hand falling from his face. Rafe pulls Devin’s head up, like he was going to punch him again. Instead, he lets go, letting the boy's head hit the floor. Rafe stands up without a word and grabs you by your wrist, tugging you away. 

Before you know it, you’re being shoved into your best friend's truck. His random mumbles don’t make much sense to you, talking about ‘he got what he deserved…Should’ve fuckin’ killed him…yeah, should’ve fucking killed him for that. Touchin’ what’s mine…’

When you get to Tannyhill, Rafe wastes no time pulling you into his room. You sit on his bed stiffly, waiting silently as he paces the room.

“Rafe?” You call out softly. “You okay? What happened back there? What was that?”

“He touched you.” Rafe states. His tone is low and rough, sending a chill down your spine. Even after all the years you’ve been his best friend, you still never know how to act when he’s like this. 

“Barely. He barely touched me.”

Rafe completely disregards what you say, shaking his head and blowing out a jagged breath as he continues to pace across his room, a bit slower now. “Why was he even talking to you? You were supposed to be with me. I told you to go to the party, not him.” 

You take your chance to get a word in as he spews out angry nonsense. “I was looking for you and he started talking, ‘wanted to get me a drink. I was just being nice; I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t even want to talk to him, I was looking for you, Rafe. I don’t even see why that matters–”.

He pauses, looking over at you. His movements are sharp as he strides over to you. “Don’t see why it matters…?” He repeats your words, more for himself than to you. “It matters because you’re mine.” His words are sharp, definitely directed to you that time.

“Rafe…you almost killed him…because of me? I don’t get it Rafe; I don’t nearly kill all the girls you fuck.” You state.

Rafe lets out a breathy chuckle before speaking. “Still don’t get it, huh?” Rafe laughs. “God you’re so innocent. So naive.” He pauses, stepping closer until he’s standing in front of you, looking down at you as you sit on his bed. “I need you, y/n. I can’t…god, I can’t even fuck anyone else anymore without thinking about you. I can’t let anyone else have you, got that? You understand now?” He asks harshly as he runs a rough hand through your hair. 

You try to swallow the lump in your throat. You look up and nod weakly, causing Rafe to flash a devilish grin. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, his voice coming out low. 

“Yeah…” You mumble back brainlessly, too shocked by your best friend's confession. You had always thought Rafe saw you purely as a friend. Although thinking back, you don’t know how you ever thought that with how he acts, especially lately. 

No time is wasted as Rafe quickly leans down, capturing your lips with his. The first kiss is hesitant, and you don’t kiss back. But when he pulls away to look at you, trying to gauge your emotion, you lean in. Your best friend takes that as a sign to continue. His lips quickly find yours again. When he feels you start to kiss back, he escalates things. Kissing you more roughly now, acting as though he’s a starved man and your lips are his meal.

His hand moves from the back of your head to your throat, lightly squeezing. At first you don’t even realize, too distracted by the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. But when Rafe squeezes your neck even tighter, you move your hands to reach up and wrap around his wrist in an attempt to pull it away. Your mouth still occupied by his, the kiss is too fucking good to break. It feels like everything you didn’t know you needed. He’s giving you what nobody else could, because only he knows exactly what you need and exactly how to give it to you. Your lack of breath reminds you of your situation and you pull away from the kiss momentarily.

Rafe’s grip loosens as he pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Tell me you want this.” He mumbles breathlessly. 

You search his eyes as you catch your breath. Nodding, you finally speak up. “I want this.” You say definitively.

Not even half a second later, Rafe’s body crashes down onto you, pushing you down so that you’re laying on his bed. Rafe has one arm beside your head, holding himself up as his other remains on your neck. He hovers over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. Rafe leans down, his lips attaching to your neck, kissing and sucking frantically at your skin. He’s been waiting so, so long for this. 

His lips find your ear, softly biting at it before whispering. “Let me take care of you, baby. You want that, hm?”. While waiting for your response, his free hand traces down the side of your body until it reaches the hem of your skirt. He moves his face to the other side of your head, giving some attention to your other ear. “Need your best friend to help you feel good…give you what you need, yeah?” His hand slips under your skirt, slowly gliding up your inner thigh, sending shivers through your whole body.

“Yes–” A moan escapes your lips, interrupting you. Your eyes meet his before you continue. “Please Rafey…need you…”

His lips meet yours at the same time his hand meets your clothed cunt. He kisses you sloppily, exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, your touch sending shocks through him. He rubs you through your panties. He can feel as you grow more needy, the wet spot on your panties getting larger. 

He can’t believe this is actually happening. He’s wanted to do this to you for so long; he’s dreamt of this moment happening in almost every way possible, but this…he never could’ve imagined this feeling. “Fuck…you’re so wet f’me already.”

“Ray…please…” You can’t help but rut your panty-clad cunt against his hand, searching for friction. Usually you’re never this bold, but you’re comfortable with him. You always have been, he is your best friend after all. You just pray that he understands what you need. 

Except Rafe doesn’t respond in the way you had hoped for. No, instead he pulls his hand out from under your skirt, eliciting a whine from you. He presses a genuine, wet kiss against your parted lips before moving down your body. Rafe slides down, kneeling onto the floor in front of the bed. He grabs you by the back of your knees and tugs you down towards him until your ass is at the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he swiftly removes your skirt. He spreads your legs, making them bend so your heels are on the edge of the bed. Eagerly, he presses wet, sloppy kisses up your inner thighs, his eyes trained up on you.

The sight of him like this between your thighs, doing exactly what you need…it drives you crazy. You lean your head back, letting out a moan as Rafe mouths at your entrance through the fabric your panties.

It’s not long before he’s peeling back your panties as well, sliding them off of you completely. Your legs threaten to close from insecurity, but your best friend is sure to hold them open.

“Fuck…this pussy’s even prettier than I imagined, baby. Soaked…just for me.” Rafe leans in, his mouth hovering just above your core. He silently asks for permission.

Being your best friend, Rafe knows that you’ve never done this before. No guy had ever wanted to date you while Rafe’s your best friend, they could see that you’re his, even if you couldn’t. 

His breath is hot on your bare center, he watches as you squirm and clench around nothing. Eagerly you nod, giving him permission. And within seconds his mouth is on you.

At first, he’s slow; gentle as his eyes continue to meet yours. He licks a warm stripe up your center, briefly pulling back to watch your reaction. Your head falls back, your mouth parted, and eyes closed as you experience this new sensation that your best friend is so generously giving you.

Rafe begins to lick and suck at you. His tongue circles your clit as he looks up, knowing you’d like it. A moan slips past your lips as your hand flies to the back of his head, the other gripping onto the sheets beside you. 

“Nnnghh…f-fuck, Ray…” You whine as his tongue fucks you relentlessly. He only mumbles against you in response, sending vibrations through your core. This felt even better than you had ever thought it would. When you heard people talk about sex, you didn’t think it could actually be this good. Though maybe that just has to do with the fact that Rafe’s your best friend, and he knows exactly what you need.

“Yeah?” One of his hands leaves your leg and moves to grope your tits through your clothes. “You like this, huh? You’re just a slut for your best friend, hm? Letting me have you like this…”

“N-need you…” You mutter, grieving the loss of his tongue on you. He stares at you with a devilish glint in his eyes. 

“I know, baby. I know.” Rafe’s mouth continues to work on you. His tongue gathers some slick from your entrance and brings it up to your clit, circling it with his tongue a few times before repeating the process. 

The feeling in your lower stomach is starting to build. It’s getting hard for you to sit still for him. It’s even harder for you to stay quiet. A plethora of moans escape you as Rafe’s mouth stays busy between your thighs. Your hand holds his head down, your other grips the sheets underneath you. 

“Rafe…please. S’too much, I can’t—” You whine. 

“Ah ah ah…stop running, baby. I got you. I got you.” Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you in place. “God,” He mutters breathlessly. “You taste…you taste so fuckin’ good. Hiding this from me all that time, hm?” He leans back down and continues his ministrations on you.

Your toes start to curl, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Suddenly he stops and before you get the chance to look down to see why, one of his fingers is prodding at your entrance. “Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You nod, allowing one of his thick, long digits to slowly slide into you. You almost scream when he starts to move it, his mouth working on you at the same time. Rafe adds another finger, now thrusting two in and out of you. 

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good. Jus’ gotta get you used to this, hm? You gonna let your best friend be the first to fuck you?” Rafe asks. You nod in response, agreeing to his words. Rafe’s fingers spread apart inside you, stretching your hole, preparing you for his cock. His tongue pauses again as he looks up at you and correct his previous statement. “The only one to fuck you.” Rafe puts his head back between your thighs, his fingers fucking you mercilessly as his tongue sucks at your bud. 

You nod again, followed by a whine. “F-fuck…Ray. I-I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby? Hm?” 

“Mhmm…yes, fuckk–” You respond, your fingers fighting to grasp onto the little hair he has. Your thighs begin to squeeze around him, causing him to pull his head up against the force of your hand on him. 

“Just a little more, baby. You can take it. I know you can. You gonna let me help you finish? You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Please Rafey…please let me cum.” Your begging makes him chuckle briefly before going back down on you. His tongue moves with precision, working on you with a purpose; to make you cum. 

Without warning, the band in your stomach snaps. You scream out his name as his tongue circles your sensitive bud and his fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Your best friend continues to work you through your first real orgasm. You’ve never felt anything like this. Why the hell did you wait so long to do this with him?

“God…baby. You’re so fuckin’ perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those pretty sounds.” Rafe carefully slides his fingers out of you, making you clench around nothing at the loss of him. He gets up from his knees, standing over you again. Rafe’s face glistens with your slick. His hand moves up to brush your hair back while he brings his free hand up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders. You oblige and he pushes two digits into your mouth. “Taste that? Taste how fuckin’ good you taste?” He pulls his fingers back, immediately moving down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. Rafe climbs on top of you, his mouth finding the sweet spot behind your ear. He whispers, “You okay?”

“Mhm…better than okay.” You reassure him. Your legs are still shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm. 

“Good.” He mumbles against your skin. “‘Cause I’m not even close to done with you, baby. We’re just getting started.” He doesn’t wait before he’s pulling off your shirt, kissing down your chest. Soon after, he unclasps your bra with one hand, pulling it off of you and tossing it onto the floor somewhere. 

His lips are vicious, attaching to any and every bit of your skin. His hands gently cup your breasts, his mouth finding and attaching to one of your nipples. His eyes stay trained up on your face, he likes seeing how you react to his touch. He pulls back, straddling your lap. Your hand shoots out to grab the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it upwards. He smirks and quickly does it himself, tossing it aside. He watches you like prey as your eyes skim over his bare chest. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, you have, many times. But no matter how many times you see him like this, you’ll never get used to it. You’ve never seen him in this way though. It’s different, more intimate. You’ve never shared this kind of intimacy with anybody before. And you’re glad you’re doing it with your best friend, whom you’re comfortable with. 

The low light of his bedside lamps reflecting off of his toned skin, damp with sweat. You let out a slow breath as you take in the sight. “Fuck.” You mutter. 

Rafe leans down, kissing and nipping at your earlobe. He whispers, “Like what you see?” He laughs. 

You nod your head eagerly. “Mhmm…”

“Use your words baby, you’re a big girl, aren’t you?” 

“I…y-yes.” You whine as you wriggle underneath him, trying to squeeze your thighs shut in search of some much-needed friction.

Rafe knows what you need. He knows that you’re ready now; ready to give him everything, let him take your innocence, your virtue. He uses one hand to prop himself up as the other works at his belt. Once you realize what he’s doing, you try to help him out, eagerly unbuckling his belt as he kisses you passionately, like he’s never kissed anyone else before you; like you’re the only girl on this fucking planet. 

Once his belt is off, you work at his pants. He leans up so he can tug them off, throwing them aside with the rest of the discarded clothes. All that’s left between the two of you now is the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel his hardened form pressing into your leg as he kisses you, practically devouring you. Without thinking about it, you find your hand tugging at the waistband of his boxers. You beg. “Please”, your lips whisper into his ear as he bites at your neck. “Rafey…”

He leans back again, this time getting off of you and standing at the side of the bed and in front of you. You can’t help but touch yourself as Rafe frees himself from the constraint of his boxers. You watch as his hard cock springs up, hitting his stomach when it’s finally freed. He smirks, leaning down to remove your hand from yourself. 

“I got you, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles, moving his hand over your core again. His strong fingers circle your clit. Your breath hitches as you watch him touch you, his other hand holding the base of his cock.

“Rafe?” You manage to ask through your cries. 

“Hm? What is it?” Rafe says your name softly, encouraging you to continue. 

“Will it hurt?” You’ve heard that the first time can be uncomfortable. And judging by Rafe’s size, this was going to be more than just uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to back out of the situation, you need this. You need him.

Your best friend’s expression becomes more serious as he looks at you. His hand comes up from your core to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “It might, baby. It might be a little uncomfortable for a moment, but I’ll do my best to make it feel good, yeah? I’ll go slow. And if you don’t like it I want you to tell me. You’re okay, baby. It’s just me, your best friend. I’m gonna take care of you. M’kay?” You nod in response, his eyes darting between your eyes to get a sense of what you’re thinking. Rafe clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah. Use your words, pretty girl.” His hand reaches out for your chin, tilting your face up towards him. 

“Please Ray…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me…” The words sound so vulgar coming from your sweet, innocent mouth. He’s never known you to speak this way, but he’s not against it. He pumps his fist over his cock a few times, his head leaning back as he lets out a groan. “Please Rafe…I-I need you in me…”

Your words snap him out of his amazement. “Atta girl.” He replies. You can feel his tip gently rub against your slippery entrance. Your warm juices on his cock feel better than anything he’s ever experienced. You’re like a drug to him. A drug that he can’t get enough of. 

He pulls back before you can get used to the feeling of him. He leans over you, reaching into his dresser drawer. When he moves back over you, you see the shiny square wrapper in his hand.

You place your hands over his as he tries to open the condom. “No…”

His head snaps up at you. “No…? No what?” He asks, confused. “You don’t want to do this?”

“No…Rafe, I-I want this. I just…I want to feel you. No…no condom.” You explain.

“Fuck, y/n. Are you sure?” Rafe’s disbelief and shock is very apparent in his tone. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m on the pill.” You confirm.

“God, how much more perfect can you fuckin’ get?” He chuckles, making you huff out a quick laugh. 

Soon his lips are back on yours as he uses his hand to guide his glistening, pink tip back to your puffy cunt. Slowly, he pushes into you, just so that the very tip of his cock is inside of you. He looks up to your face, pending your reaction. 

“F-fuck…Rafe.” Your hands move to his hips, pushing him further inside. Rafe gives in, pushing another inch into you. “Mnghh, fuck…Rafe.” Rafe settles there for a moment before giving you another inch or two. Each time he moves, he looks to make sure you’re still enjoying it, giving you a minute to adjust each time. When he finally bottoms out, you feel so…full. The pain is there, but it doesn’t last long, fading into a light discomfort as your soft walls mold to his shape. You involuntarily squeeze around him.

“Shiiiitt, baby…Squeezin’ me so tight.” He pauses to kiss you, his lips soon finding that soft spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. “M’gonna move now, alright?”

“Mhm…please…” You whine. You hook your arms under his, bringing your palms up to grip onto his back. Rafe continues to kiss all over your neck and chest as he slowly pulls out of you, until only the tip is left inside. Without warning, he pushes into you a bit quicker this time, with a bit more force than before. But you’re not complaining. You cry his name out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He begins to move at a slow, steady pace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. “F-fuck…” You yelp, gripping onto him even harder.

“Fuck, baby…your nails, they hurt.” He mumbles amusedly into your ear as he nips at it. Immediately your grip loosens. You feel terrible but can’t manage to muster up an apology since you can’t think clearly with how his cock is repeatedly kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

“Faster.” You beg, pressing your forehead into his arm. He listens cautiously, carefully picking up the face. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. The new position allows him to hit an even deeper spot inside of you. When his digits start to circle your clit you almost let out a scream, making him chuckle. 

“Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?” He laughs as he fucks you senseless.

“Fuck…Rafey, no, I…I can’t. Can’t take it.” You moan, throwing your head back as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“You can and you will.” He speaks emotionlessly, overtaken by pleasure. Rafe’s hand moves from you clit up to your throat again, he applies a bit of pressure. Your hands leave his back and wrap around his wrist. Your eyes stay shut as your face contorts into that of pure bliss. His thumb slides into your mouth and you suck and bite at it, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feeling of him fucking you. You don’t see how you can ever stop; this feeling is…unlike anything else you’ve felt before. “You got this baby. M’almost there. You can let go, baby. Just let go f’me.”

Sooner than later you feel the newly familiar feeling of pressure building in your lower stomach. When it snaps, your body tenses up, a wave of moans escape your mouth as the band snaps and pleasure washes over you. Rafe continues to fuck you slowly, his movements becoming more sporadic than strategic.

“Fuck, where do you want it?”

“My pussy, please Rafey…fill me up?” You ask, eyes wide with tears as you look up at him. “Please?”

“Shit, you sure?” Rafe groans, barely able to hold on any longer.

“Y-yes...I’m sure.” Only seconds later you can feel his warm seed spurting out inside of you. Your gummy walls soaking him in as they squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s got.

“Fuckk y/n. Do that again.” As he thrusts into you without any specific rhythm, you obey his words, squeezing tightly around his length again. Rafe lets out a guttural moan, tossing his head back for a moment before looking at you again, watching how well you take him, as if you were made for him. The way he fills you up you is like pieces of a puzzle, just meant for one another. “Shiiitt…you’re so fucking tight. Squeezin’ ‘round your best friends cock so good.”

After you’re both worked through your orgasms, he pulls out of you. You groan at the loss of him, feeling a big opening left where he had been. Rafe leans down to press a deep, meaningful kiss to your lips. He pulls back, wiping your hair and sweat from your face with a proud smile.

“God, baby. You did so good, so fucking good. That’s a good girl. My girl, yeah?” He leans down again, pressing a kiss to your neck. Rafe whispers in your ear. “m’so proud.” Before pulling away completely, he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks, your nose, and one final kiss to your forehead. 

You turn on your side to face him as he lay on the bed beside you. “Rafe…” Your voice shows your exhaustion, but also your hesitancy.

He turns on his side to face you as well, propping his head up against his hand. “Hm?” He says with a smile. He can’t help it, it’s impossible for him to see you and not smile after what you just did. 

You flop back down onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s too hard to say this while looking at his beautiful smile. “That was…” 

“Incredible?” He interrupts, his fingers lightly tracing up and down your arm. 

“What was that?” You blurt out, scared that if you don’t say it now then you never will.

Rafe’s smile fades quickly, he props himself up on his elbows, staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Woah woah, woah. Hey. What? What d’you mean?”

You give a light shrug, his fingers no longer moving over your skin. You avoid looking at his pretty eyes. “I mean like…what happens now?”

He sighs, laying back down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re my girl now, yeah? I thought that was obvious.” 

“Your girl? The Rafe Cameron I know doesn’t do girlfriends.” You say lightly.

“That’s because I never wanted one. I never…needed one, I’ve got you.”

“So…we’re friends?” You ask, attempting and failing at trying to hide your emotions.

“We are, aren’t we?” Rafe responds, not knowing what his words imply or how they’ll make you feel.

“Yeah…yea we’re friends.” You say dryly. 

He turns his head to face you. “Hey. Y/N. What’s wrong? Hey…hey, talk to me.”

“Nothing, Rafe. I’m fine.”

“Jesus, no you’re not. C‘mon baby, what is it?”

“Nothing!” You snap. You’re angry about your own reaction, feeling stupid once the words leave your mouth. Grabbing the sheets, you cover yourself up.

“Did I do something? What’d I do?” Asks Rafe, making you feel worse about yourself. It’s not his fault you feel like this. “Is it what we did? Look, I’m sorry if—“

You cut him off, not being able to listen to him blame himself. “I just…I don’t think friends do what we just did.”

“Jesus, y/n. Look…” He trails off, cursing himself. “Do you not wanna be my girl or something? ‘Cause I can—“

“No, Rafe. I just…I don’t get what you mean. Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He says, confused.

“Like…your girlfriend? Dating? Us?”

“Fuck. Yes, baby. My girlfriend.” Rafe says the word as though it’s a pain to say it. “Will you be my girlfriend? Please?” You could tease him about the way he’s practically begging you.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” You joke, not being able to resist. Rafe laughs, glad to hear your usual self. 

“Well, I’m kinda hoping that I’m your…boyfriend, now.”

“Hmm…let me think…” You say, tapping your chin as if this is something you need to contemplate. You can see his demeanor sadden from the corner of your eye, causing you to look over at him. “What’s in it for me?” You add, a smirk threatening to appear on your face. You can barely hold back your laughter at this point, but he still looks so sad, like a puppy who can’t have a treat. “Jesus Rafe, I thought you’d never ask.” You don’t even give him enough time to respond before you’re on top of him, his lips immediately seeking yours.

“Yeah? You mean it?” He asks between kisses, almost nervously. 

“Of course I do, Rafe. ‘Promise.” 

You always know just what to say to him to calm down his mind, he loves that about you. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. God, I fuckin’ love you.” Your eyes widen at his confession, you look down at him. He’s almost just as shocked as you are. He didn’t even know he felt that way. The words just slipped out, but they felt so right. “Fuck, no, I meant—“ Rafe starts, but you cut him off. You kiss him again,  passionately. This kiss shows him exactly how you feel, somehow being more intimate than having sex with him was. 

“I love you, Rafe. I promise.” You know how he can feel like everybody is against him, so you try to reassure him as much as you can. You’re the only one who’s ever made him feel cared for; he just never wanted to fuck things up with you. “Please just…can you promise me that you’ll stop beating up random strangers who talk to me? ‘Cause I don’t care about them, Rafe. I care about you.”

This is all so new, talking to each other in this way. But it’s how you’ve both always felt. “But y/n, he-“ Rafe pauses, reconsidering his words for you. He sighs and then mumbles, “Yeah…I’ll try.” He looks back at you, you with a stern look in your eyes. “I will. I promise.”

You smile, leaning down for a kiss. Quickly, things start to escalate again. Rafe flips you both over so he’s on top. He leans down to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at it as he works his way down, kissing every inch of you. 

“Mnmh…fuck…” You moan.

Rafe smiles against your skin. “Yeah, baby? That feels good huh?” You only nod eagerly as a response. Rafe takes hold of his already hard cock, using his fist to pump over himself a few times, letting out a low growl. He rubs his dewy, pink tip over your sticky hole. 

You let out a moan, still being sensitive from your previous orgasms. “F-fuck…Rafe, m’too sensitive, s’too much.” You whine.

“Shh…shhhh baby, it’s okay. I’m not gonna do nothin’, jus’ wanna show you how proud of my girl I am.” His mouth works it’s way down, landing back between your thighs. Your boyfriend softly bites at your inner thighs, his eyes staying trained on you as your face contorts in pleasure. Eventually he finds your soaking core, lapping up the mix of your juices. You feel his fingers gather some of your arousal, mixed with his cum. Before you know it, those fingers are deep inside your throat. “Taste that, baby? Hm? Taste how fucking good we are?” 

You nod, whining when his mouth finds your core again. His tongue flicks at your most sensitive bud, making you jump. Although Rafe only holds onto harder the more you try to run. “Baby, it’s okay. Let me take care of you; clean you up.”

It doesn’t take long until you’re yet again, a shaking, crying mess underneath him. When his mouth works it’s way back to yours, you can taste both of you on his tongue. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. I fucking love you.”

You smile a weak, tired smile at him. He rolls off of you, flipping you both on your side so he can spoon you. He kisses your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing mindless shapes into your skin. “I love you too.” You respond as you drift off to sleep in your boyfriend's arms.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to leave more asks, I will most likely get to them at some point. Thank you!

[mono-dot-jpeg]

inextricably bound - viktor, jayce

summary; stuck in a plane above all else but at least you're together

genre/extra tags; oneshot, fluff, bad jokes?, a dash of angst?, czech viktor, jayvik are canon fuck whatever christian linke was saying, just two bros being soulmates in every timeline and they're each others everything (but not in a gay way am i right chat /j), god forbid two dudes be canonically gay in every timeline, sorry im pissed off, im coping with jayvik being gone, OOC jayvik??, i dont know how to write for jayce well, jayvikreader poly sloppy toppy (jk), it's like implied that reader just got pulled in and doesn't know the dramatic moment they had n the astral plane before finally making up., headcanon that the astral plane is almost like being in limbo for death or reincarnation

[reader's gender not specified or mentioned]

word count; 808

a/n; can you tell im mad that there are jayvik non believers? like hate them all you want, but you can't just say that they were just bros and im glad most of the fandom can understand that. am i absolutely greedy for viktor? yes, but im not taking him away from his literal soulmate/twin flame/whatever the fuck gay shit they got going. also i feel like this isnt my best work but anyways enjoy :)

empty.

that's what being in the astral plane feels like. but it's calm. most of your body is engulfed the stars that you once looked up to. now you were part of that. not as a star but as a being. your face is illuminated a white gold shimmer.

"love?" a voice echoes and before you know it, two familiar faces are close to yours.

"vik? jayce?" your voice echoes in the listless space. and it's only then do you register how.. normal they look again.

despite the stars that cover their body and shimmering light of the ethereal, they look like themselves. it was the viktor and jayce you knew. your hands move, your body floating as you hold viktor's face.

"it's you. viktor.." the mentioned male looks at you, guilt and love in his eyes. jayce's hand rests on the small of his back, a silent encouragement for the shorter man. "it's you.." your voice trembles. viktor can't look you in the eye until jayce's hand gently nudges him, and it's only then that he sees the absolute love pouring from your eyes. "i should be more concerned that we're stuck here, but fuck.. i missed seeing you."

you can't exactly cry in the astral plane. your tears end up sparkling and twinkling away and become part of the galaxy you've been pulled into.

"miláček.." you don't even realize how much you've missed his normal voice until now. even if it did have that ethereal echo, it was still him. your viktor. your forehead presses against his for just a moment.

"you... i have a lot to say, but let me be happy for just a moment." viktor tenses at your words, but he relaxes in your touch. you pull away to give jayce the love you missed giving him.

"jayce.. you did so well. more than well. i don't know everything of what you experienced, but you never gave up. didn't know i could be more thankful for you." jayce smiles brightly at your words as you hold his face between his hands in appreciation.

he looks at you with that look he used to give you and viktor when things we once normal. that silly lovesick grin on his face, but you know he can't express how thankful he is for you and him. "i missed you so much, too. you have no idea." he said softly.

"now, with that out of the way, what exactly happened?" the two men look at each other before slowly explaining how everything started and ended with them. and they definitely ended it, seeing as they were taken here by the crystal that jayce held so dear to him. "but why am i here then? i mean, it makes sense for you two to be here. you're basically soulmates."

"don't say that, miláček. we love you too. whether you're in this timeline or not." viktor said gently, floating to you and holding you in his arms. "we won't allow you to think so lowly like that. especially when jayce is around. and especially because that line of thinking does not seem to do well for us. my insecurities blinded me to want to fix everything to a dangerous degree.." he confesses.

"you’re ours whether you like it or not. and it's not like we can find a way to leave here." jayce smiled softly, his large arms wrapped around yours and viktor's shoulders. he hugs you two close, not missing a moment to hold you both in his arms.

"i guess it was really meant to be when i said you're both stuck with me forever." you joked, kissing them on the cheek. "but we're really stuck here?"

after your kisses, viktor starts giving his share of kisses. "it would seem so. not that i'm complaining." jayce joins in on the sweet kissing session, making sure to give as much as he could before you or viktor start telling him to stop. echoing laughter rings out in the empty void. the cold of the astral plane could never make you shiver when you were with the men who did nothing but give you warmth.

"maybe we'll just reincarnate. do you believe in reincarnation?" you asked between kisses. they pause for a moment, contemplating your words.

"eh.. well, i'm sure it wouldn't be crazy to believe in reincarnation." viktor said with the slight tilt of his head, his look silently conveying his uncertainty but uncaring of it.

"if we do get reincarnated, i'll make sure to find you two before anything else." jayce whispered, his face firm with determination and love.

"that's so sweet. and sappy." you laughed lightheartedly.

the two men can't help but join in with their own laughter and just for a moment, the stars twinkle a little brighter as if joining in on the joy.

[butchvampireheimerdinger]

okay hear me out…butch4butch Sevika where Sevika is a power bottom???👀 reader is taller and stronger than her but very shy and intimidated by her🙈

Pairing: Powerbottom!Sevika x gentle giant-service top! reader

Warnings: ns/fw, fingering, cunnilingus, grinding/dry humping, smoking, mentions of violence, and horny lesbian activityyyy

Word count: 3k

A/N: Love you. Love this. You have come to the right place for this one, my friend. The lack of butch4butch Sevika content is criminalll if that woman has a type it begins with D and ends in Y-K-E-S. Anyways, how appropriate is it that my first fic is butch4butch Sevika smut. Checks out. (that being said, it is my first fic so you freaks betta be NICE) Now without further ado…

You Have No Idea

By ButchVampireHeimerdinger

It was the slow ending to an eventful shift at the last drop. Customers were in good spirits all night, likely due to a sudden influx of Piltie goods some gang had rattled up through more or less honorable means and was making its way through town. In any case, the energy was contagious and it had you, the buff and generally even-tempered server/bouncer, doing things you didn’t normally do. Like drink on the job — just a beer you had been nursing for over forty minutes — and fraternize with patrons. Y’know, other than the obligatory how are you, do you wanna pay out now or open a tab. Real actual conversations -- which led you to number three on the list of Things You Don’t Normally Do; you were hunched over the bar playing Texas Hold ‘Em with three regulars. Two were men, you didn’t remember their names, but they always came to the bar at about this time. A package deal — they snickered in your direction as a nearby shady-looking customer walked out on his tab.

“Hey, isn’t that your cue, tough guy?” The man gave you a patronizing sort of eyebrow raise as he dealt the next round.

Technically, it was. You got hired pretty much on account of your physique — you were 6’3” and a tank, always had been. Broad shoulders, biggest girl on the playground growing up, you gained muscle at the drop of a hat. You didn’t even try. But it was all for show. You were more of a lover than a fighter. Sometime in the first few months of the job the staff discovered you were better equipped to work inside the bar. Customers liked you because you were polite, a breath of fresh air from the culture of animosity that permeated the undercity. Still, it didn’t help your ego in situations like this. ”Hey, you don’t know what she’s got under her sleeve.” The third voice at the table spoke up. The right hand of Zaun. Sevika.

She had been a regular since before you started and probably would be long after. You had heard some pretty nasty stories about her and the things she was capable of. But when she came up to your counter for a drink, she came without malintent, always respectful to the waitstaff. It was disarming. Tonight, especially, your eyes lingered over her toned shoulders and sharp collarbones.You wanted to run your hands over them, to see how her body would react. And maybe it was the house IPA you had been drinking, but probably not.

Sevika gestured toward your dwindling pile of poker chips with her chin as she looked down, analyzing her hand. “Clearly, she must be the type to play the long game.” This earned her another light fit of snickers from bar idiots one and two, but they were easily impressed. You rolled your eyes.

Sevika raised two chips. The table matched. She spoke again.

“So, tough guy, do those arms of yours get you any female attention? Since you’re obviously not using them for any other tactile purpose,” her eyes traveled to the empty seat where the tab-skipper had been sitting.

You shrugged, suddenly warm and very aware of your body and not sure where to rest your gaze. “I get around.”

For some reason, tweedles dum and dee found this hilarious, and howls of laughter followed. You slapped your hand over your heart and feigned a look of deep hurt, to mask the bit of real hurt you were feeling. Yeah, it had been a while, but surely not long enough to warrant that response.

“Is it that implausible?”

Sevika chuckled and shook her head, but her expression was good-natured.

“Just make your move, Casanova.”

You had a full house. Three aces. Two kings. You matched, and didn’t raise.

Sevika raised, the men matched, and you folded.

The table revealed their hands and Sevika won the pile with a straight. Not a bad hand, but the round would’ve been yours if you had taken the risk. Sevika clicked her tongue, scolding you, which made your palms sweat. You averted her gaze and became suddenly interested in wiping down the bar.

Following your pitiful defeat, the two guys payed out, leaving the bar empty save for you, Sevika, and a couple stragglers who always stayed until morning and probably didn’t have anywhere else to spend the night. To your surprise, the woman beckoned you over once more. Something in your heart lifted. Something in your pants dropped.

“Blackjack?” She pushed the cards toward you, and her dominant sort of gaze made you feel, once again, compelled to do what she asked.

You won the first few rounds. Sevika was risky to a fault. If it wasn’t 21 exactly, trust she would draw. And she always made you the dealer, watching your hands intently, hungrily, even, as you shuffled. The third round was a tie, but she didn’t have anything left to raise.

“Tell you what,” she said. “You win this round and I’ll spread it around that I walked out on my tab, and you chased me down and kicked my ass for it. Should prevent other situations like our friend earlier, at least for a while.”

“Are my bouncer abilities really that pathetic?” You picked at the side of your nails. Sevika’s gaze pierced through you and you found it difficult to meet her eyes. But you didn’t necessarily hate the way her eyes took you in. Slowly and deliberately, like you were a battle map and she was trying to parse out her strategy.

“And if you win?” You looked up, all innocent. Maybe you imagined it, but your doe eyes seemed to rile her up a little bit. Something in the way her jaw shifted, the way she rubbed her flesh palm on her pants.

“Already planning for defeat? See, this is exactly your problem. You’re talking through a universe where you lose before we’ve even started.” She shoved her pile towards you again.

“Deal ‘em.” She commanded, you obliged.

“I’m serious! I just wanna know what I’m agreeing to. Fools rush in, and all that.” Your voice made everything sound like a question. With her, it was. Sevika was hard to figure out.

“You’re cute. If I win, I want…” The woman took a hit of the blunt she was holding and used it to gesture, her movements creating little loops of smoke that rose and dissipated. Her eyes followed them, and not you. For once.

“I want an hour. With you. N’ those arms.” You jerked while shuffling, accidentally knocking over your beer in your surprise. You picked it up quickly, hoping she didn’t notice.

“You serious?”

“Deadly. Fuck me up, Casanova.”

She won. Wasn’t even close. Three sevens, if you could believe it. As soon as you slapped the last seven down, you both shot up from the counter at light speed and she followed you to the back.

“A little eager, aren’t we?” Her voice was low and husky, but with a little something else.

“Sore winner,” was all you could think to respond. You shoved her lightly. She shoved you harder with her prosthetic arm. The two of you kept at it, pushing and shoving back and forth as you practically raced to The Last Drop’s back office. Play-fighting, like you were “one of the boys,” but it had a bit of a bite to it. Like you wanted to eat each other alive.

The office was hardly used except for the rare moments when staff wanted to crunch numbers. Or, of course, engage in extra-professional affairs like this one. That couch had seen some things. You fiddled with the key for what was apparently a moment too long.

“I’m getting bored out here, Casanova.” You looked into Sevika’s eyes through her thick brows, a couple inches below yours. You slammed your shoulder into the door and it gave way immediately, with a satisfying bang as it swung open. Sevika followed, grabbing you by the shirt as she brought your lips down to hers, hard, and kicked the door shut behind her without looking.

She dragged you toward her, her back pressed against the peeling drywall. Her tongue dragged against your bottom lip and something deep in your pelvis vibrated in anticipation. One of your hands reached up to the wall, to keep you both steady. Sevika grabbed your other hand and guided it under her tank top. You squeezed her breast, tracing over her nipple with your thumb. Your bodies pressed together and you brought your knee in between hers, rolling your hips forward and pressing your leg into her crotch. She moaned into your mouth. Like her voice, it was deep and gravelly.

You set a pace. Her hips seemed to agree with it, bucking upwards to get that friction where she needed it most. Her hands gripped your waist and hips as she started to manhandle you, making you move faster against her. Your kissing was frantic and sloppy, like there was anger behind it. Your lips shined with her spit, and you moved to kiss up and down her neck. She reacted with a throaty panting noise when you got to a sensitive spot — a fleshy and soft area where her jaw met with her neck. You twisted your head to the side and downward to get better access, to fully exploit that weakness. Without fully thinking through your actions, your sucking collapsed into biting. You drove your teeth into her neck and Sevika’s jaw shot upward as her panting became gasping. She grabbed the back of your head and pushed it harder against her neck to say what she couldn’t; more, more, more.

Your hands fumbled with her belt and she noticeably did not help you with it. It was like she got a kick out of watching you struggle. You finally got them unzipped and you reached under to start palming her through her boyshorts. She had already soaked through. Good.

You pulled away to look down at her again while tugging lightly at her waistband. You raised your eyebrows to ask, May I? Chin still tilted upward, she nodded, huffed out a “yuh” sort of noise, and hooked her leg around the back of yours to bring your chests closer, all rough.

You pulled down the panties and your fingers dipped into her folds. Sevika’s eyebrows knitted even closer together, if that was possible. You continued sucking and working that spot on her neck. Her lips were against your ear and you heard her panting grow more desperate, more melodic; whines and vocalizations mixed with the gruff and grainy rhythmic in-and-out of her breaths.

Your middle and ring finger sort of skated all around her entrance, just barely avoiding her swollen clit. You took in the sight — Sevika’s heaving chest, her eyes closed as she chased the pleasure you were giving her. Her moans grew to something not exactly desperate, that wasn’t like her, but deranged and shameless. She panted like she was breathing fire. And like she didn’t care if all of The Last Drop could hear her, even though they probably couldn’t.

The pulse of her hips grew a little more erratic and she shifted her legs like she was ready to switch positions. You gestured subtly with your head toward the couch, and she dragged you toward it.

The woman collapsed on it and rested her arms outward, elbows relaxed on top like it was a throne. She leaned as far back as she could as you helped work her pants and boyshorts all the way down until they dropped to her ankles. She pulled her shirt off with both hands, pulling it up and over from the back of the neckline. She threw the tank top to the side and all of the air left your lungs, as you took in the sight of her upper body. Where you were buff, she was cut. Unlike you, Sevika didn’t have the type of figure that was imposing simply by nature — her physique came from blood, sweat, and tears. She had the body of a bruiser, of someone who spent their life fighting. The Sevika before you made you realize why some of the patrons kept their distance. But it somehow made you want to get closer. It made you want to please her, and to be good at it.

Sevika had a manspread going and you dropped to your knees in front of her. But she wasn’t having that — not yet. With her flesh hand she grabbed you by the throat and dragged you up to her lips for another messy kiss. Your teeth clashed together and when your tongues made contact, you felt those butterflies low in your pelvis. You moaned into her mouth instinctively, and it came out higher and breathier than you expected. You felt her lips form a slight smile against yours and she released her hold on your neck, making you drop down to your knees. You were certain the impact must have shook the entire city block.

Breathing heavy, you went to start kissing and sucking at her inner thigh, but she tilted your chin upward to look at her. Breathless, she commanded,

“Take your shirt off for me, Casanova. I wanna see those arms while you… Yeah.”

You fought the smile forming and stripped for her. You took off your tank top and sports bra the same way she had — in one fluid motion, from the back. You were caught between a sudden wave of self consciousness and the urge to draw it out, to put on a show for her. You settled at maintaining eye contact as you subtly flexed for her, and placed your broad hands on her knees. Sevika smiled, all smug as she reached over to a nearby discarded vest, brought out the rest of her blunt, and lit up as her eyes poured over your exposed upper body. She inhaled deep using her metal arm, and with her flesh hand she traced over your biceps, satisfied.

All confident, you started on her inner thighs, taking your time. When your lips finally connected with her wet cunt, you heard her make a sharp exhale through her teeth. You kept going, first going over it all with a flat tongue, drinking in the moment, then using your tongue to explore her folds. Sevika let out a satisfied hum as you started sucking at her swollen, neglected clit.

That was when you brought your fingers up to her entrance, casually tracing, nothing else. That pissed her off.

Sevika slapped the top of the couch to get your attention. Your eyes snapped up to hers as she leaned forward to get all up in your face, with her signature sneer on.

“Did someone pay you to waste my time?”

You froze.

“That wasn’t rhetorical, I’m seriously asking you if some outside party with an interest in distracting me paid you to bring me here and do absolutely nothing with me.” You raised your eyebrows, eyes all wide and innocent. That made her groan, and she covered her face with one hand, your puppy eyes making her feel horny and desperate and a little guilty about snapping at you.

“Just. Fuck. Me.” She collapsed backward and you didn’t respond, just immediately did what she asked. You pushed your two fingers inside her without warning — hard. Again she exhaled through her teeth.

With your mouth, you continued giving her clit attention, and you pushed in and out of her, fingertips maintaining contact with her front wall, the one closest to you.

The sounds she made were pornographic, and it made you aware of the pool of slick that had established itself in the crotch of your boxers. Listening to her body, you gradually picked up the pace and you found Sevikas hand weave through your hair, grabbing you roughly at the scalp and pressing you closer and closer still.

Her face was angled toward the sky as she whined, her metal hand gripping the cushion tight enough to create what was probably going to be permanent ripples in the fabric. You brought her closer and closer and her grip on your head tightened as she bucked her hips upward, essentially fucking herself on your tongue and fingers. She occasionally let out a depraved vocalization that a trained ear might recognize as “fuck,” “don’t stop,” and “faster-FUCK faster.”

Until the pulse inside her cunt became erratic, and you felt a familiar tremor in her legs. You didn’t let up. You started fucking her deeper, with more pressure, using your tongue to play with her clit faster. Sevika’s thighs involuntarily snapped up to trap your head and you brought your hands up to brace them. Your tongue still moving as she cried out, loud and animalistic as she rode out her orgasm. Her thighs held you so tight against her pussy that you couldn’t escape if you tried, and the strength would probably have suffocated someone more petite.

Eventually, Sevika’s cries retreated back into deep panting and her legs dropped back to the floor, still trembling and spasming. She looked down at you, eyes half lidded, and gave you what could have been interpreted as a smile. She spread her arms back out on the top edge of the couch cushions, somehow still holding the half-smoked blunt. You shook your hair and a bit of ash fell out, which made you giggle. You were so invested in fucking her, you hadn’t noticed the active fire hazard against your skin the whole time.

With her chin, the woman gestured to the spot on the couch next to her. You settled in, your sides touching and your head leaning back against where her bicep was resting. She wrapped that arm around to bring the blunt to your lips.

“You can finish it, I don’t like the roach,” she said, and you obliged. You took a deep hit from her fingers and the last fiery bits assaulted your lungs, but you liked it. Sevika ashed it out on the couch, as if you hadn’t already desecrated it enough. You settled into a comfortable silence and she allowed you to lean your head on her pec, still uncovered. Until she spoke up.

“Promise me something, Casanova.” Her voice hoarse and gravelly from the earlier activities.

“Mm?” you responded. She wrapped her arm around you to reach up and ruffle your hair.

“Promise me you’ll never get good at cards.” You sucked your teeth and sneered back at her, giving her a hefty shove, which she gladly returned with equal force.

[munsonify]

good morning kiss

pairing. eddie munson x fem!reader

summary. after endless attempts to try and wake you up, eddie’s kisses are finally what make your eyes open up

genre. fluff

warning/s. pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), reference to being “his girl” and a “sleeping beauty”, she/her pronouns, kissing, slight allusions to sex (in past memory)

authors note. i’m so sorry if the pov is weird in this?? i tried writing this differently than i usually write my fics, so i think i might’ve been switching between past and present tense. anyways i hope you guys like this!!

word count. 529

disney princess collection

you look so peaceful. your eyes rest closed, body slumped into eddie’s bed. even in one of his ratty old kiss t-shirts and your cheek pressed against his floppy pillow, you look so beautiful.

it’s late april, sunlight spilling in through the window, catching his dusty blinds to cast shadows against his blankets. only glimpses of you illuminated - your right eyelashes, the bridge of your nose, one corner of your mouth that twitches ever so slightly in your sleep.

as much as eddie loves admiring you (with his distaste for interrupting your peace much stronger), you two had only 30 minutes to get ready for school. with a soft smile, eddie’s hand gently squeezes at your hip, shaking you with care. he knows you never wake from the first few shakes.

two more gentle shakes go by before he starts tracing his fingers beneath your his shirt. eddie’s voice, though a little gravelly, whispers softly into your ear, trying to ease you awake the best he can.

“gotta wake up sweetheart, don’t want you late again this week.”

you had two very logical explanations as to why you were late two times already this week. you spent monday morning preoccupied with the way eddie’s hand felt on your thigh on the drive to school. completely not your fault.

as for your second tardy, tuesday morning, you spent twenty minutes helping eddie replace the flat tire on your car. he insisted that it couldn’t wait, and that you need reliable transportation outside of himself. as if he’d ever say no to giving his girl a ride.

eddie still failed to wake you. your back was turned to him, though he could still see some of your face. the corner of your lip twitches again, but this time it looked somewhat like a smile to him.

with raised eyebrows, eddie pushes his weight up and over top of you to get a better look of your face. his fingers find their way to your tummy now, softly feeling your skin. he desperately wants you to keep resting. everything in him tells him to let you be. eddie, however, knew he’d feel guilty letting you be late again.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he whines softly, watching as your eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. you’re faking being asleep. with a wide grin plastered onto his face, eddie decides to play into it. his fingers begin to dance against the ticklish spots on your skin. still, you force yourself to stay ‘asleep’.

“what’s a guy gotta do to get his sleeping beauty to awaken?” that’s when it dawns on him. a kiss. the hand that was once on your tummy reaches up to your cheeks, smushing them together gently.

only a few seconds later was your cheek greeted with a big, wet kiss. quiet giggles erupt from your chest, slowly twisting in eddie’s arms to face his direction. in between your giggles, you can hear him whisper “she has risen”.

he un-smushes your cheeks for just a second, giggling along with you as you speak quietly. “i think your sleeping beauty needs one last kiss on the lips to seal the deal.”

“anything for my princess.”

———

taglist. @songbirdofthenight

[lailols]

I hope I'm not bothering you and you don't have to write this if it makes you feel better you can but I'm curious. All txt members are dom overstimulation orgasm denial and in addition to that, I wonder what the members who ate special chocolate would be like. I really trust you, I'm sorry, my English is not very good, I hope I can be understood.

Okay, we'll (I'll) answer this in two parts!

MDNI! Very hastily written, don’t kill me

MTL (ish) overstim v denial

Overstim

Yeonjun

Soobin

Kai

Taehyun

Beomgyu

Denial

Yeonjun does it both as a punishment and just on the daily. He’s all about making sure you’re thoroughly satisfied by the end of the night, and with his stamina, you surely will be. Whether it’s from his fingers, mouth, thigh, or cock, you’re being sent to heaven every single time. If you’re not blacking out from pleasure, he’s not doing his job right. If he’s just doing it for funsies, he’s praising you all the while telling you ‘just one more’ and ‘you’re such a good girl for taking it.’ If it’s a punishment he’s saying ‘if it hurts, why is your body still pulling me in, hm?’ and ‘if you act like a slut, you’re going to get treated like one’

Soobin truly doesn’t mean to, but he just gets so captured in how good you feel and loses himself in the moment. It’s only natural that before he even thinks about getting inside you he’s prepping you and then eating you out. Like that’s not even a question. So that’s two there. And then once he’s inside you, he’s not thinking anymore, literally you’re synonymous with a fleshlight at that point. Tears streaming down your face because he’s come twice and he’s still going. And then afterwards the little pervert is going down on you again because the sight of his come dripping out of you is too tempting.

Kai is a bit of a wild card. Heavily inspired by kpg! Kai (you should read that if you haven’t wink wink) but he just gets such a power trip from the way you completely trust him with your body. If he decides to overstim you? You’re taking it with trembling thighs and tears in your eyes. If he decides you don’t deserve to come? You’re crying and begging but taking all that he’s willing to give you while holding off your impending orgasm. He doesn’t really have tells for either mood and while he’s not above punishment, that’s not really his motivator either. It really just depends on what he’s feeling like in the moment.

Taehyun will only deny you as a punishment. He’s a simple man that thinks good girls should come and stupid sluts should not. That’s not to say that he doesn’t purposefully make rules so that you break them, but you’d think that after all this time you’d know better, right? It’s not his fault you’re breaking rules, he just has to enforce them. You know your safe word and if you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t have broken the rule in the first place. Your tears will not sway him but if you cry enough he might come back later to let you come. Maybe. And while he does go a few rounds, it’s with breaks in between and not all at once so I don’t think it counts as overstim?

Beomgyu is just so mean :(. He likes keeping you wound up and frustrated. He likes having you beg and plead for him to let you come and then deciding not to anyways. It’s like a game to him. Will he? Won’t he? Hell, half the time he doesn’t know himself. It’s a bit of a power trip for him. You could be a brat or even just the perfect princes, and he still won’t let you come. But he’s not a complete monster, if you don’t deserve to come from his dick, he’ll let you get yourself off on a pillow if you’re so desperate.

[lemonmaid]

Poly Taskforce x Baker! Reader

A small part two, I had the idea while working today. It is very apparent that I just started watching Dexter.

Warnings: talks about murder. Gender neutral reader

To say Simon was smitten witn you could be an understatement.

Simon went far along to change his hours, Johnny complained about it for weeks, always mumbling in the ealry morning "why we need to open thus early? No one is gonna wanna have meat at 6 am".

He will always be there whenever you text or call, you want him to double check to make sure the store is locked up? No problem, you're lucky he lives above the shops.

The seasons were changing fast, the forcast called for snow later today. The door slammed open, "Has anyone seen john? I wanted to ask him to get lamb meat for these Shepherd pies I gotta make for the holiday season". Ah there you were in all your glory, you were wrapped up tight in layers of clothing.

"What's wrong with Si's meat- OW! Fuck Si, was kiddin'", Johnny rubbed the back of his head, mumbling before walking to the back freezer.

You looked at the two with an awkward expression, "Nothinh, i just wanted fresher lamb, anyways- Simon do you think you can look at my oven again? I think it's not heating right".

And see you in your cute white apron and pretend your his bonnie? Of course.

Simon hummed, "light probably out again, i can check it later tonight".

You smiled, "thanks Si, probably be lost without you".

The rest of the day was slow, slow to the point Johnny said he is gonna hit the pub early even though it was a bit of a walk. Simon really didn't want to work the front end, he hates talking to people kinda mutish but will carry a conversation if needed. Johnny did the talking for him, been talking and hasn't stop talking since primary school, hell the two were so close that Simon could call Johnny's ma his own. Johnny was always there, even when Simon didn't want to see his ugly mug, Johnny was there.

The front door chimed, Simon groaned, taking off his gloves and walked to the cash register, there was Kyle.

"Needing something Gaz?"

Kyle rolled his eyes at the nickname, they used to play together for their schools Rugby Team, their nicknames sticked together like glue. "Nah I just need your opinion on something".

Simon nodded, "police work?".

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, "Yall need be safe out there tonight, another body was found in miller's creek- which i wanted to ask you simon- what does this look like to you".

Simon looked at the pictures, he's got to hand to the killer, these cuts are professional, "looks like a clear Butcher cut"

Kyle hummed, "do you mind coming down to the station to give a statement? I think we would like your word-"

Simon crossed his arms, "You're not accusing me right Deputy?"

I mean, it was a good guess. There's only two Butcher shops in town, Simon's store was in the middle of no where and the other was three miles out of town, he's got to hand it to the killer, he does know his way around a blade. And after the incident that happened when he was a kid, wouldn't put it past Kyle for assuming him.

"Oh god, of course not Si! Listen the sheriff wants to figured out quick- doesn't want to alarm the folks here or more rumors".

Oh of course, Simon is aware of how people just talk in this town. A couple of years ago there was rumors of him and Johnny being a couple on the count of they don't go to church, old crazy people.

Just as they were bout to leave, Johns truck comes in speeding.

"Kyle! We need a immediate medic attention".

In the passenger seat was Johnny, very bloodied, beaten beyond recognition.

The bastard went to far.

[sugawhaaa]

🕯Felix One-shot🕯

☁️The eighth sin☁️

Warnings:: MENTIONS OF RELIGION If you are faithful I highly recommend not reading this and if you do I do not take religious criticism

Pairing:: Demon!Felix x angel!fem!reader

Genre:: fantasy, AU, slow burn

A/N:: so I've had this story in my mind for a while where the reader is a fallen angel and skz find her in hell and give her a home and long story short they all fall for her and you get to decide how you want to end the story. It's almost like a video game, it's hard to explain. Anyway this is just a little snippet from Felix's story line which leads into Minho's. If yall like this and it does decently I might continue making them

🎧::

Recently you found yourself wound up in hell, the lowest point in the universe to make sure you feel like the lowest being in the scale of the world. However you only sinned once, but that's when it counted.

You were an angel, living among courageous and beautiful beings. However, a singular sin opened the door for you to fall to your demise and you wound up in Hell. Long story short you were taken in by the eight lords of Hell or as many know the seven deadly sins, but there were eight of them. This confused you at first because your whole life you've been preached about the seven sins so to see an eighth lord was simply off-putting.

After a few days, you learned all of the men's sins, including the eighth. He was the lord of faith. But how could something like faith be a sin? You decided to speak with Felix, lord of faith, himself. His room was the most pure sight you had laid eyes upon. Pure white with candles and paintings with minimal furniture, only what he thought was necessary. There were also statues spread around his room.

As you searched for Felix you found him sitting by a statue, gazing up at it, in a silk-white outfit, a little Greek headpiece around his forehead. He turned to look at you and smiled. "My angel," he smiled and you blushed softly.

"That would be me," you nod and Felix tilts his head.

"Something is weighing on your mind, right?" He asks softly and you nod again. You approach him slowly and he offers you to sit next to him. "What's troubling you?" He lights an incense with his fingertip and places it in a holder.

"Well, I'm just confused. How is faith a sin?" You cut straight to the chase and Felix laughs softly.

"Well you see faith is a thin line and all faith isn't directly related to a God or some higher being. Sometimes faith comes from human to human," he explains. "When a person has too much faith they become dependent on that source and lose their originality and sense of being. Some really faithful people try to even bend God's plans in order to somehow appeal more to him," Felix explains in depth of how one might consider faith a sin.

"How so?" You question and Felix sighs.

"Some believe that they can somewhat test God. They have so much faith in his abilities that they will throw their life on the line to test God's strength," he explains and a realization dawns upon you.

"And...does God always..." you look up at him and Felix looks away.

"They say God's a busy man after all..." he swallows hard before clearing his throat. "Do you...have any more questions?" He puts on a smile and you think for a moment.

"Yes actually, if you don't mind," you look up at him and he nods, allowing you to continue. "You said sometimes people have too much faith in each other or like not higher beings. How does that work exactly?"

"Well, like I said faith is a thin line. Some people have too much faith in another and will let that person handle everything. You see this doesn't work out in anyone's favor," Felix explains and the dots instantly connect in your head.

"I think I understand..." you think deeply. This information is changing the perspective you have on life and the life you have lived.

"I believe that not all faith is bad...but I guess I am the lord of faith so," he laughs softly and you smile slightly, still deep in thought. As he looked at you his eyes held a certain...alertness. Like he was hunting or waiting for something and it somewhat off put you. You looked up at him, quickly glancing him up and down.

"So if you think Faith is such a sin then why...Does your room look more religious than any humans I've ever seen," You ask out of genuine misunderstanding.

"All of the eight lords have an uncontrollable desire for whatever their sin is. Some have grown to handle it better, like Chan and Minho, but others still struggle, like me and Hyunjin," Felix gestures to his room as he mentions himself.

"So you must feel...interesting now that I'm here right?"

"I must admit I am overwhelmed with emotions now that you are here. An angel. Living among devils like us. I am infatuated with the way you have lived but I'm trying to refrain from...doing something I'll regret," he smiles shyly as he expresses his passion.

"Like what?" You lean forward, curious of what's on his mind.

"I don't think you'll wanna hear," he smiles. "I'm still a demon after all," he puts a finger to his lips and tilts his head. The smile on his lips sends a chill down your spine. "Alright, anymore questions?"

"No, I'm good thanks," you smile and stand up, fixing your dress softly. "I'll let you continue," you head over to the door, Felix following behind.

"Alright, stay safe," he puts a hand on your shoulder and opens the door for you. "Oh and Y/N, a little piece of advice," his words intrigue you and you turn to look at him. "Stay weary of Minho, don't approach him when by yourself. Make sure someone is with you," Felix smiles but his words make your heart race.

"Thanks," you nod with a smile and Felix closes the door. As you walk back to your room you bump into someone, their sturdiness catching you off guard and stumbling back. A rough hand grabs your wrist to help catch your balance. As you look up you see Minho and glance around nervously.

《Felix ending》

As Felix closes the door his fake smile dwindles as he watches Y/N leave through the stained glass window. Felix glances back at where you were sitting and sighs. He was fascinated by this angel but...something else lingered in his mind. "God's a busy man," he mutters under his breath before scoffing. "Load of shit. He's always watching, aren't you?"

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 27 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: Jace and Valeana go for a horseback ride in the Godswood. What could possibly go wrong? Word Count: 4492 CHAPTER WARNINGS: menstruation blood, menstruation talk

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: Tryin' to to be upset over the fact that I didn't get as much reception from last week's chapter than I thought it was.... But's fine. I'm totally fine [says in a Ross voice]. lmao, but for real, thank you to those that did. Aside from Aemond motorboating dem tiddies, it was the first ~real~ smut scene that wasn't a dream sequence, so I hope it was enjoyable.

“You’re quiet,” Jace pointed out at last, now that they were sufficiently down the walking trail in the Godswood. 

“Sorry,” Valeana apologized, looking down at her hands as they clutched the reins. “Had a long night of fretful sleep.” 

Not a lie, but a half truth. The aftermath of her tryst with Aegon had left her more indecisive than she previously was. Outside of Aemond’s love affair with her breasts that night, what she had with Aegon was her first sexual experience. The first time she had seen male genitalia (that close, anyway, and on a grown man), the first time she had ever touched a man in any intimate capacity. Hells, she had never even kissed anyone, and yet she had a cock in her hand, twitching and hard until it painted her fingers with pearlescent seed. 

His member was intimidating at first glance, though she had no basis of comparison. Were all men of that size? He was heavy in her hand, her fingers just barely wrapped around the width of it. How is something like that supposed to fit anywhere in her body? Yet despite the intimidating size, it filled her with a primal need, something inborn in every living thing that needs to procreate. Had Valeana not started on her monthly bleed that very night, things might have progressed to a point of no return. Perhaps the Mother did that on purpose. 

Her face heated up, mostly from embarrassment. With her legs straddling his thigh, hips rutting into the rough fabric of his breeches, she had nearly forgotten about it. That was the closest thing to man touching her privy parts, and contact that wasn’t her own conscious fingers, was a new sensation entirely. The roughness assaulting her pearl, while at the same time being prodded internally by the twig of cotton she had inserted before bed. It had never occurred to Valeana that she was even allowed to be sexually aroused while she was bleeding, or if her body was even capable of it. But Aegon lit the match and it was immediately a forest fire.

 It was more intense than those moments she satisfied herself, but then again maybe it was the added stimuli. Unfortunately, she had not reached her peak that night. Her anxiety got the best of her, and she was concentrating too hard on Aegon’s pleasure than her own. When she reached her bedquarters, she desperately wanted to finish herself off, but she was forced to pull out the sopping wet cotton and replace it, effectively killing the mood. She had leaked right through it, decorating her lenin shorts in pink streaks of blood. Surely she bled on Aegon’s thigh as well, and that thought brought her immense dread. 

Her middle cramped, as if reacting to her musings. Valeana ran a hand over her stomach when Jace wasn’t looking, and tried to keep her face neutral.

“Sorry to hear that,” he glanced over at her, giving her a once over.

She was wearing riding clothes, the first time in weeks where she was in breeches. Her prosthetic was well hidden under the leather, and she was wearing a pair of tall riding boots that lace all the way above her knee. Her cream coloured tunic was tucked into her breeches, but she wore a long leather vest with a belt that fit snugly around her waist. 

Valeana raised an eyebrow at his staring, “Are you undressing me with your eyes, Jacaerys?”

He gave a short laugh, galled at her boldness. With a tinge of pink on his cheeks, he turned and took a glance at their shadow. Ser Steffon, riding an intimidating red stallion many yards away. He was too far away to hear a single word, but his eyes never strayed away from them. 

“No–” He fumbled with his words, then cleared his throat. “It’s just… I’ve never seen you in breeches. I’m surprised you’re riding astride. Don’t most young ladies prefer side saddle?”

“No one prefers side saddle, Jace,” she adjusted herself on the speckled white and grey mare, aptly named Snowflake. “It is uncomfortable, and easier to fall off if you do not keep balance.”

Jace nodded, “I suppose. But doesn’t riding astride… cause your maidenhead to break?” Valeana turned to him with a look of disbelief, and he quickly tried to save himself. “I only bring it up, because I’ve heard it can be painful–”

“Do not worry about my maidenhead, Jace,” Valeana shook her head, laughing despite herself. “I’ve been riding for years now; my gelding back home is a racing horse, and I take him jumping frequently. If it were to break, it would have happened already.” 

Shaking his head with a smile that betrayed his amusement, Jace conceded, “Fine. I shall not think about your maidenhead any longer.” 

Valeana raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if she should take the bait. A mischievous little smirk coiled across her face, “Until you have to.” 

Jace’s head whipped in her direction, which caused her to cackle. His expression was priceless; brown eyes wide, face a deep rouge, mouth agape.

“Val-Valeana!” His grin slowly widened at her gall.

“Sorry! Sorry, my Prince, I could not resist,” Val took in a deep breath to steady herself. She blamed Aegon for her sudden crassness. 

Jace peered at her, his grin pulling into his own fox-like smirk, “Is this your way of saying you wish to marry me, Valeana?” She scoffed at that, but he went on. “It is a rather churlish way to propose to me, but I am not against it.”

“Do not get ahead of yourself, Jacaerys,” she rolled her eyes. “I am merely pulling your leg.” 

He hummed, leaning his head back to shake out the curls from his eyes. Jace went pensive for a moment, the sound of hooves on dirt and birds chirping filled the gap. “I have been hearing a lot of things about you.”

Valeana gave a slow blink of irritation, not because of him, but because she is constantly being told a new addition to her reputation almost every day. It was getting tiresome. 

“Things that are not flattering,” he goes on, his lips in a pout. “Things that I do not think people will want for a future Queen of Westeros.”

She sent him a quick glare. Her teeth dug into her tongue. Like your mothers reputation? It was quite hypocritical if Rhaenyra rejected Valeana as a daughter-by-law due to an unsound reputation, given the one she obtained. One she got at an age younger than Val. 

“Rejecting me already, Jace?” She wasn’t entirely sure why she was so angry about it, it wasn’t like she was taking this courtship seriously. Jace complicated her life, even if he was in all actuality, the safest choice out of the three. Her mind briefly thought about what Daemon said the other night about her mother settling for her father.

“No,” he turned to her, his brows knitting a bit in concern over her sudden change of demeanor. “My family is no stranger to conjecture and rumour. My mother has been subjected to it her whole life. I just wish to hear your side of the story, so if it comes to it, I will be able to defend you and your honour.” 

His answer honestly surprised her. Her mouth popped open and shut like a fish, at a complete loss for words, “That’s… That is kind of you, Jace.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Only because the only impression I have of you isn’t a positive one.”

He shrugged, smiling a bit, “I am a man now.”

Valeana gave him a once over, “Oh, look at that. So you are.” 

The prince chuckled. His teeth ran over his bottom lip to contain it, so he could resume their more serious discussion. “So, tell me, what is true, and what isn’t?”

“That depends on what you’ve heard,” she sighed, idly stroking Snowflake’s mane. 

“You ran all over the castle in the dead of night, completely inebriated.”

She sucked in her lips; the word ‘guilty’ written across her forehead.

“Are you serious?”

“I was not alone,” she waved him off. “It was me, Lady Wylla and Lady Ellyn.”

“You got drunk with Cregan’s sister, and Lord Borros’ daughter?”

“They’re very good drinking companions.” 

Jace shook his head, though out of amusement, not disappointment. “Alright. How about a tryst with Aegon in a closet?”

Heat bloomed at her cheeks, “He was trying to flee my sister and pulled me into a closet as his captive. He was a nuisance, that is all. And because I know this will fill you with joy, I beat him with a broomstick afterwards.” 

Jace grins broadly, “You are right, that does fill me with joy.” He then clears his throat, “And your courtship with him… is that conjecture too, or…?

Images of Aegon’s cock in her palm flashed in her mind. 

“No,” she forced herself to say. “That… is true.” 

He stared at her, face full of incredulity, “I was hoping that to be untrue. Valeana, why on earth would you be courting Aegon, of all people? He has not changed, at all.”

“It is a long and complicated story,” she sighed, “One I am tired of explaining.” 

Jace was unconvinced, though. No matter the reasons, whether they were rational or not, he was determined to convince her otherwise. 

“You remember how Aemond was the only one amongst us that did not have a dragon?”

Valeana stared at him for a beat, “...Yes. And you lot teased him relentlessly for it.”

“Aegon the most, if you recall,” Jace briefly glanced at her before returning his eyes to the path. “One day during our training at the Pit, Aegon told him that he–we had a dragon for him. Luke brought forth a pig with wings strapped to his back, and they called it The Pink Dread. Later on, I heard from Aegon that Aemond tried to claim a dragon in the pit, and nearly got burned alive for it.” 

Her brow was furrowed as she digested what he told her, “He never told me about that.” Aemond rarely told her about any of the cruelties that his brother and nephews inflicted on him, but she was usually aware. A lot of the times it happened right in front of her, or she would spot it from a distance. But he’d never let her defend him, as much as she wanted to, as much as she tried. However, she felt that would have been something he would tell her about, given that he made an attempt at claiming a dragon.

“Probably because Aegon jested that you were his pig mount. Called you  Sowleana Pigletar,” Jace chanced a look at her, and regretted it when he did. Valeana was looking down, her face pulled into a full frown, and the creases in between her brows were deep. “Valeana, I had little part of it. I was not even aware of it until the day of.”

“But you were complicit,” She shot back, not bothering to look at him. Instead she gently spurred her horse so she was trotting forward to get ahead of him. It all made sense now: the oinking from Aegon and Lucerys, Aemond’s avoidance of her during the last weeks of their friendship. “You realize that had it not been for the three of you, Aemond would not have pushed me? You drove him into hating me.” 

“Valeana– you cannot blame others for what Aemond did to you,” he spurred his horse, trying to catch up with her. “He made the choice. He chose his pride over his friendship.” 

It was true, but she scoffed at it nonetheless, wanting to hear none of it. She spurred her horse more, but just so she could pull the reins and have the mare cut Jace off on the trail, forcing him to look at her. 

“You never answered my question at the ball. Would you be trying this hard if I was still fat?”

“Valeana, I–”

“You wouldn’t,” she answered for him. “You know you wouldn’t. You have no interest in who I am beyond my body – just like every other man. And the only reason you are trying is because you realize that pleasing your mother is now more worth it than it would have been if I still looked the way I did when we were children. But you now have obstacles that you did not think would be in your way. 

“Jace, we are simply not compatible. I do not wish to be with a man who only loves me with conditions, because he was told he has to by his mum.” 

They both stared at each other, she with challenge and pain in her eyes, and he with guilt and a crumbling resolve. Finally, with a taut jaw, Jace nodded, conceding to her words. 

“You are right. You are right… I do not want that for myself either.” 

Valeana nodded, then inhaled deeply to sigh, “I know you aren’t the same person, Jacaerys. And you must believe me when I say that neither is Aegon, as much as he appears to be.”

Jace nodded, despite the fact he was not willing to accept what she said was true. “Is he what you want? Is he going to love you without conditions?”

“I do not know,” she surprises herself by admitting the truth. “And… I don’t know what I want.”

A small smile crept on his face, “Aemond.”

“What?”

“You want Aemond. And he wants you… I’ve seen how he looks at you. All of the damn court sees how he looks at you.”

Biting her lip, she looks down at her fingers. She didn’t want to talk about Aemond, at least not with Jace. Another complicated matter that she didn’t even know how to explain to herself, let alone to others. 

“And what do you want, Jace?” She changes the direction of the conversation, pulling the reins of her horse to move back toward the trail, before Ser Steffon could catch up with them. “Mayhaps I can help point you in the right direction.” 

He considers her offer while resuming his trot alongside her, “My position makes it so that I do not have much of a choice. I have accepted my fate of simply being a piece on the chessboard, and I know that my future bride will have to be one that would benefit my mother’s side, should there be… contention after my grandfather’s death.” 

She eyed him as he talked. The impending possibility of a war of succession was a taboo topic amongst the courtiers. Everyone thought about it, but were afraid to bring it up. Valeana loathed the topic of war above all else, and tried to avoid thinking of the possibility. What she dreaded most was having to choose a side, when she was so hopefully in the middle. 

“I want peace. That’s really all I want… And–and,” His cheeks reddened a bit as he struggled to find his words. “There is only one who could ensure that will be the case. One woman in the entire Seven Kingdoms that is capable of helping me achieve that goal.” 

A slow smile crept on Valeana, instantly knowing exactly who he was referring to. “Have you talked to her since you arrived?”

“I tried to,” he admitted. “She is…”

“An enduring mystery,” She finished for him.

“Indeed.” 

“Have you thought about this for a while?”

“Since we were children…” He trailed off, suddenly bashful. “I’ve never thought she was strange, just simply… unique. Always thought that we would be betrothed; it made the most political sense, uniting our families. But the proposition was thwarted in a Small Council meeting… I had assumed that Alicent wanted her to wed Aegon. Yet that did not happen.” 

“It would be the King’s doing that they are not already,” Valeana added. “Though I fear that the Hand and the Queen will try to make it happen.” 

“Unless you choose Aegon,” Jace smirked jokingly. 

“Unless Helaena chooses you,” she mocked back, earning her a sheepish smile as he looked away. 

“You should talk to her, Jace. See if she is interested in a courtship… Because I agree with you. Alicent would not want to make a natural enemy out of her daughter, and Otto wants at least one of his grandchildren to be a king or queen. Helaena is smart enough to understand that.”

He nods, “I say she is the wisest of us all. The problem is approaching her… It is difficult to understand her mind, as much as I wish to.” 

Valeana thinks for a moment, tilting her head up to look up at the branches that blocked the sun. “Bring her milkweed.” 

Jace tilted his head at her like a confused puppy, “Bring her a weed?”

She nodded, “Milkweed. It is what Monarch butterflies use to lay their eggs, and their caterpillars will live upon a leaf until it is entirely devoured. Then they will cocoon themselves to be transformed. She will love it, especially if there are eggs already attached to it. And, I dare say she will understand the symbolism immediately. Monarch butterflies, Jace. It’s practically a proposal.”

He pouted his lips as he considered it, “Alright. I trust your wisdom… But I am going to need help identifying milkweed.” 

Val snorted, “Of course you do.” 

The rest of the walk fell into casual chatter. Along the way, Valeana pointed out the milkweed, even so much as getting off her horse and pointing out what the eggs looked like. When he asked how she knew, she just told them she actually paid attention to Helaena when talked about her insects. 

“Men need to listen to women more often; you’ll learn a thing or two.” 

After a while, they had made a lap around the forest, and were not far from the gate. Looking over her shoulder, Valeana could make out Ser Steffon, still a distance away, and has not dawdled too far. 

“That knight of yours has a stare that could burn down castles,” Jace remarked after looking over at the knight. He gave a tentative wave, but was not given a response back. 

“Yes, Ser Steffon is terrifying. Let’s outrun him.”

“What? Are you serious?” 

“We’re almost there, and I’m sure Snowflake would like to do something other than trot along a path. Isn’t that right, girl?” She gave the animal a pat on her neck, receiving a little snort in return. 

“Alright, but if he pulls a sword on me, I am hiding behind you.” 

“That’s fair,” she turns to look at Steffon, and even from a distance she can see that he’s starting to grow suspicious; they keep on looking over at him. “On the count of three… One…two…”

“Three!” Jace kicked his horse and darted off. Valeana shouted after him after doing the same. The two stared to speed along the train, hooves kicking up dirt and thumping loudly, causing birds to fly away. Ser Steffon did not take long to react though, and was soon cutting through the forest shouting for them to stop. 

“I’m going to beat you, princeling,” Val shouted as she galloped next to him. 

“We’ll see about that, Celtigar! Last one to the Heart Tree owes the winner two golden dragons!”

She guffawed, “You’re on!”

Valeana leaned forward, spurring her horse faster and getting ahead of him by a foot. Every once in a while, they had to duck and move around branches that would flick in their faces, or rocks that were in the way. Eventually, Val veered off course when the pathway got too narrow to have them both racing side by side. Steffon was also closing in behind them, yelling at his charge for not staying on the path. Too exhilarated to listen, Valeana continued her pursuit of victory. Despite the uneven terrain, she was able to get ahead of the two men, until a fallen tree blocked her way. Undeterred, she urged Snowflake forward and the mare took no hesitancy in leaping over the log. 

The jump was high, the leap was far, the motion made Valeana’s body lift in the air and fall squarely on the saddle. It was like a gut punch when her bottom landed on the hard back of the horse. She let out a loud groan, and immediately folded in on herself, hands grasping at her pelvis as Snowflake slowed down to a trot before stopping. 

“Lady Valeana!” Steffon raced over to her, followed by Jace. 

“Valeana!” The prince got to her side before the knight had. “Valeana? Are you alright?” 

As the dull ache started to subsided, she lifted her head to glare at Jace, “I’m fine.” 

“Lady Valeana, did you break anything? Should I fetch a maester?” The knight trotted to a stop on the other side of her horse, his hand reaching out to grasp her shoulder. 

“I broke… something,” Valeana sat up straighter, huffing away a strand of her hair that fell out of her braid. “But I am fine, Ser Steffon.”

The two men eyed her curiously. The younger glanced down to where Val’s hands balled in front of the apex of her thighs, and that was when he started to chuckle uncontrollably. 

“What did I tell you?”

She growled and glared at him, “Ser Steffon, Jace is making fun of me! Unhorse him!” 

Valeana was in desperate need of a bath and the moment she had returned to her family’s apartments, she demanded one to be made. Her thighs were sore, though not quite as much as her core, or her pride. She still can’t believe she broke her maidenhead while horseback riding. How incredibly cliche. And with Jacaerys as witness, no less! 

Her family’s wing was blessedly empty when Rosy prepared her bath. She stripped off her leathers one by one, starting with her boots, so she could free her left leg. All the while, she told Rosy of what happened, and the maid did everything in her power to conceal her amusement. 

The bath was infused with lavender oil, raspberry leaves, and dried chamomile flower buds. As predicted, her cotton plug was sopping wet once again, though she wagered it was from the fractured hymen. At least it would save her from a painful first-coupling, but she couldn’t help the feeling that she was worth less now. Afterall, it was drilled into the heads of all gently bred girls that their worth is determined by their virginity, and the proof of that was a piece of stretched skin tucked deep inside her.

And now that was gone. 

When Rosy left, Valeana submerged herself in the tub and sat in the water for a while. She did not know how long “a while” was, but when she surfaced, she was still alone, and the sun was lowered sufficiently enough for the sky to have an orange and purple ombre. 

Minutes later, after Rosy returned to help her out of the tub, Valeana stuffed herself with more cotton before redressing into a much more comfortable dress. A simple burgundy thing, with long sleeves and a belt loosely hanging at her hip. While she strapped in her leg again, Rosy plaited her wet hair after she wrung it free of any more water.

Once all cleaned and dressed, Valeana found herself far too exhausted to even leave the apartment. Instead, she trailed into her shared bedroom, closed the door, and slumped to the end of her bed before collapsing in it nose first. Grumbling in the covers, she moved around to make herself comfortable, resting on her cheek as she stared at the balcony doors…. That were slightly ajar.

Beyond the window she could spot something blue sitting on the stone bench that was situated in the center of the modestly sized balcony. Blinking and furrowing her brow, Valeana pushes herself to get out of her bed despite the protests of her exhausted limbs. As soon as she opened up the door, she instantly recognized the bouquet of blue and purple hydrangeas; the branches were tied with a piece of white lace. 

Val slowly approached it cautiously, as if it were a trap.

 And it was. 

“You take incredibly long baths.”

She jumped, yelped, and twirled around ready to give the fight of her life, but when she saw who it was, she growled, “Seven Hells, Aemond.” 

He hummed his laugh, the curve of his smile dimpling his cheeks, effectively melting her into the floor. Oh, what she would do to see that smile every hour of every day. Aemond was sitting on the balustrade railing, one leg hanging off the end, the other laying straight while he rested his back against the castle wall, away from the window’s view. When she took a step towards him, he pulled himself off and met her halfway with a few short strides. 

“How did you even get up here?” She cranes her neck to look up at him. 

His hands reached out to run it down the length of her thick, long braid, still damp but not enough to soak the fabric of her dress. “I climbed.” 

“You climbed?” Val looked over the railing, and then back at him, “Aemond, we are four stories above ground! You could have fallen.” 

“Heights do not frighten me,” he gave a shrug, still toying with her braid. “It was worth it… Though I could have used your hair to help me onto the balcony.” He gave the plait a playful tug, making her swat at his hand. He silently laughed again before moving his hands to cup her face and pull her close. Aemond then pressed his nose against the crown of her head and inhaled deeply. Like muscle memory, her arms grabbed onto his sides to fill the gap, laying her cheek on his chest while her arms circled his waist. 

“I’m sorry I did not come to you sooner,” he said while his hand smoothed down her hair, and rested his chin upon her head. Aemond’s arms caged her shoulders, enveloping her into his embrace with a sense of desperation. “I was detained at every corner.”

“It’s alright,” she spoke to his chest, inhaling his scent deeply, trying to wash her mind of her transgressions. Valeana suddenly felt incredibly guilty, now with Aemond in her arms. Part of her thought he was a dream, a trick of her mind, a delusion she came up with at the Ball in her inebriated state. But he was here, on her balcony, risking his life on a steep climb to give her a bouquet of hydrangeas. And here she was, willfully debauched by his brother… with a broken maidenhead, thanks to a horse. And Jacaerys.

“You’re here now,” she buried her face into his chest, trying to hide her shame. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT SNEAK PEAK

“Lord Borros visited me today, proposing a betrothal between you and his daughter, Lady Maris,” His father began, surprising Aemond little as he had suspected this topic would come up eventually .  Aemond’s tongue rolled around in his mouth, his eye not meeting the King’s. “What did you tell him?”

Notes: This one and the next may be a little on the short, but I promise you, it's worth it, and the next two chapters are heavy on Aemond. I honestly think the longest chapter I have so far is actually 29. So, couple of things: I'll be posting the cast list hopefully soon. There will be two, one of the main cast, and one of the side cast. Another is I decided that I'm going to wait until TPD is over before posting Aegon's spinoff, because of how much I've been dragging my feet with these chapters. I need to focus on catching up to my original 10+ chapters ahead I had before.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[slight-gaming-addict]

Hello! Can I please request for prompt 6 one shot with Idia x reader please? Idk if I’m doing this right so please ignore this if I am

~ you're unaware of the past inhabitant still living in your newly bought house ~

pairing: idia shroud x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of a dead body and blood, supernatural elements, gunshot wound, possible grammar errors, probably more warnings

word count: 1.4k

event masterlist | main masterlist | ko-fi

ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ

Everyone you know called you crazy for even thinking of getting a house like this. The cursed house that hasn't had a single owner keep the house for more than a month before it was back on the market again. The real estate agent was ecstatic as she led you through the house after your interest in it, showing you each and every thing that's been done to it over the last year that it's been on the market to try and attract new buyers.

With all the new modern renovations that have been done, you would've thought that it would be at least double the price than it was, and you soon learned why it was so cheap on the market.

Some years ago there was apparently a gruesome murder of a young man that happened in the house, and it's never been the same ever since. Every single person that's stayed in this house has left as quickly as they arrived, claiming that they'd awake to things being thrown around the house and voices echoing throughout making it known that they were not wanted there.

You've never really had a paranormal experience before, but you'd be lying if you weren't the slightest bit curious if the stories about the house are true. You don't have another option anyway, the house being the only place in the neighborhood that's in your budget, and you don't really see the appeal of sleeping in your car.

The real estate agent is practically bouncing on her feet as you officially sign the deed to the house as well as the check for the down payment that you still feel should have been higher, but you're not going to complain.

A couple of weeks later, you have practically everything unpacked—not that you had much—and are settling into the house nicely. You haven't had anything that they said has happened in the house happen to you, so you figured the rumors were just that, rumors.

It isn't until late one night that something happens. You're rinsing off a dish in the sink when a mug that sits next to you on the counter suddenly falls off and shatters to the ground.

You jump, dropping the dish you had in your hand into the sink. You look down at the smashed pieces on the floor next to your feet and take a step away from the glass. Looking around the room, you see nothing out of place that would cause it to happen, and you didn't think it was that close to the edge of the counter, but after a couple minutes of contemplating how it happened, the only reason you come up with is you accidentally bumping it, even though you don't remember doing it.

The next day, you're back in the kitchen making breakfast when the blender suddenly starts from across the room. You jump once again at the sudden noise, turning around from what you're doing. You walk up to the blender with confusion, not even remembering plugging it in. Trying to turn it off, you hit the power button, but the blender continues to whirl. You hit all the buttons, but nothing seems to turn it off. Eventually, you reach behind it and yank the power cord out of the wall, letting the blender finally come to a stop to plunge the room into a sudden silence.

You shake your head, trying to rationalize it, but not knowing how. You guess faulty wiring could come into play, though it's not that likely it's the only excuse you have. Your mind wanders to the rumors of the house and the reasoning why countless other people have left previously, but you don't have a choice right now, needing somewhere to live. You just hope you don't regret the decision to stay later down the line.

A week passes and small things keep happening around the house, things being knocked off counters, lights turning off as soon as you flip them on, and furniture being shifted from its position. The thought of leaving crosses your mind a couple of times, but all the things that happen seem so minor that you don't feel like you're in any real danger.

It isn't until one night that it changes. You're walking into your bedroom from the bathroom, getting ready to go to bed when you hear a low voice emitting from the corner of the room.

"Why won't you just leave?" Your heart jumps into your throat as you turn to face the noise, letting out a small scream as you see a figure in the corner.

Idia lets out a small scream similar to yours when he realizes that you can actually see him in the room. "You can see me?" He asks in disbelief as you push yourself against the opposite wall with wide eyes.

"How did you get in here?" You say, his questions not even registering in your mind that's completely scrambled at the moment. You would have probably recognized him from the images online from all of the articles about the house if you weren't too busy thinking someone broke into your house.

"Hey, wait-" He tries to speak, but you're preoccupied with grabbing the first thing you can and swinging it directly at him. You watch the object phase right through him and hit the wall behind him before dropping to the ground. Your eyes widen as a puff of light smoke covers the area where he just was before dissipating completely.

"What the-" Your eyebrows crease in confusion, looking at the now empty spot where the person just was.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't throw things at me." His voice sounds from next to you this time causing your body to jump and spin around, finding him standing next to your bathroom door this time.

"How did you-" You look back at the spot he just was in wonder as to how he got across the room without you seeing him. Looking towards the person once again is when his appearance finally clicks into your brain. "You're Idia..." As soon as the words leave your mouth, he's groaning out in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the poor guy who was murdered in his own home because he couldn't hear the intruder walking into his room from his stupid noise-canceling headphones." You just stare at him, trying to process the information of you physically speaking to someone who's not alive.

"But, how are you here?" You ask, your voice quiet as if you're scared of scaring him off.

"I wish I knew." He sighs out folding his arms over his chest in almost a defensive position. The last thing Idia remembers was sitting in front of his computer, ready to drown out the world around him and finally use his noise-canceling headphones when suddenly everything went dark.

He didn't hear the person breaking in through the headphones and the next thing he knew, he was staring down at the scene in front of him. His body was lying face down on the keyboard, blood dripping down onto the floor from the gunshot wound in his head, and even from seeing all that, he was the most upset about his brand new headphones getting blood all over them, and the very expensive keyboard getting completely ruined.

He's been wandering around the house ever since, watching the police come in and do their investigation, and the first people to move in since the incident. He didn't even mean to do it at first, but he knocked a painting off the wall when he saw them get settled in what was once his room. He saw their reaction and figured he could continue to move and knock things over, trying, and succeeding to run them out of the house.

He'd do it for every single person that would move into the house, working flawlessly, until you that is. He's not even sure how you're able to see him, no one else could.

"You're the reason why no one's been able to stay in the house." You say, everything starting to come together in your mind, like seeing a ghost, or spirit, or whatever you'd call it, standing right in front of you is an everyday occurrence.

"Yeah, well they were loud. Especially the ones with a newborn, it was like a screaming fest in here, I couldn't even hear myself think." Idia speaks out in a small huff.

"You realize every time you scare someone off you're just going to have to deal with more people coming in to check out the place." You say, looking at him expectedly.

Idia opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again.

"Fine," he says after a few seconds.

"So I can stay?" You ask with a small smile. Idia just sighs out before disappearing through another light mist. You're taking that as a yes.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

buy me a coffee ♡

[https-mi1zu]

The Peacock and The Crow

(the draft-ish, chapters 1-2)

CO WRITER, SPELL CHECKER, AND MY BESTIE IN GENERAL: @cha0sdumpster

WARNINGS : nothign really ig?

word count: 4,283

To gabby, the first to hear.

CHAPTER ONE . Life is weird, but I'm weirder

I didn't really want to become a hero, but here we are.

Everyday was the same, I woke up early, 5:30 or so. I got ready, fixed my hair and packed my lunch. Meanwhile, my mother was passed out on the couch with some man. I went back to my room to get them a blanket.  I left them a glass of water before I left for school. As I walked out of the house and slowly made my way to the bus stop, I couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation. It was like I was living two different lives - my own and that of my mother's. I waited for the bus, wondering if things would ever change, or if I were always meant to feel like an outsider.

At least my mother was grateful enough to give me her headphones. As soon as I plugged in my headphones, it felt as if the world just stopped for a moment. It felt freeing, it felt as if I was high as a cloud and...is that a horse with wings??

I took off my glasses to wipe them a bit, maybe I was just seeing things. I looked back, only to see just a normal maya bird flying by. As I sat on the bus, lost in thought, I couldn't help wondering if there were other kids like me out there - kids who felt like outcasts and longed to find a place where they could truly fit in. I was aware that there were other kids in my class who also struggled with ADHD and dyslexia. My mother was surprised that I had made it to grade 7.

I wondered if there was somewhere out there where I could find people who understood me and where I belonged, maybe even a place where I could've become a forest witch.

I could daydream about finding a place where I fit in and could be a forest witch, the bus pulled up to a stop, it jolted me back to reality. I got off the bus and began walking to school, still lost in thought. I took off my earphones as I got off.

I walked in the hallways, it was quite early, I couldn't help but notice some strange things around me - a bird that was acting weirdly, a crack in the sidewalk, and a piece of paper floating in the air. But I shook my head, thinking it was just your imagination again. 'Just my imagination is running wild.' I said to myself, mostly.

I put my bags at my desk as I walked over to the corner of the room. Our classroom was quite small, but it had a fire exit. We never got to use it, but it was cool anyway. 

I could hear the slight buzz of the fan, our aircon hadn't been fixed yet. Why did I even bring a jacket anyway?

I looked at our schedule, making myself mentally memorize the subjects. 'math first...science next...filipino right after recess, ‘did I remember to bring my apron?' I thought. We had art today, double period, our art teacher was quite nice.

After I reread the schedule a couple more times, I walked to my desk. It was in the third row of the third column of our classroom.

I brought out my books, I didn't need much other than my whiteboard (which I forgot to bring, again) and my notebooks. After I got my books and shoved them under my desk, I walked over to my locker, 'I should really buy a lock.' I said to myself. Opening my locker and then shoved my bag and lunch box in. I slammed the door to it shut so nothing would fall out.

I made my way through the medium-sized room, the air seemed to grow colder, as if the temperature had dropped a few degrees. The shadows in the corners appear to thicken and deepen, almost as if they are slowly coming to life. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, like there are eyes following my every move. But everytime I turn around there's nobody there.

The flickering of the fluorescent lights above only adds to the sense of unease, casting shifting patterns of brightness and darkness across the room. I could hear faint, almost imperceptible whispers echoing through the corridors.

'it's just the wind.' I told myself, I sat down back on my desk

But the whispers continued, growing louder and more menacing as I sat at my desk. They seem to come from every corner of the room, as if they are trying to communicate something important like they are trying to warn me of something.

The shadows in the corner seem to twist and writhe, almost like they are trying to form some kind of shape. It's hard to make out what exactly they're trying to take the form of, but it almost seems like a familiar shape. I needed to clear my mind so I opened the door  and made my way to the bathroom. It was a quiet walk, the corridors empty with the leaves on the ground. I looked down at the ground as I walked. The rocks embedded in the beige concrete made different shapes, the sizes ranging from big to small. It really looked like a messed up mosaic.

I reached the bathroom, the whispers grew louder and more frenzied, as if they were desperate to communicate something. The shadows in the corner of the room seemed to move and writhe even more.

Turning on the faucet, the water that came out was ice cold, as if it had been sitting in a frozen pond for hours. I splashed water on my face, expecting it to be refreshing and calming, but instead the water felt strange, almost as if it was pulling something out of me.

I looked at myself in the mirror, the whispers in the back of my mind grew to an unbearable level. It was like they were trying to drown me in my negative thoughts. Didn't work though. 

The longer I looked into the mirror, I noticed the small imperfections on my face.

The small but noticeable double chin I had

My many moles on my face

The pimples and the acne

My round baby face. I've always hated my face.

I fixed and tied up my hair. It always looked bad the moment I stepped into school. I think it's the school air that always makes people’s hair look weird. Walking out of the bathroom, I could feel the whispers in the air behind, beside, and in front of me. Why couldn't they quiet down for once? Just for a day is all I ask. They kept persisting, whispering thoughts and messages through my ears. It was as if all I could hear until I saw my teacher.

Mrs Fiore. She was my mentor and my composition teacher. I forgot we had class coaching today, class coaching was for our writing. We had to make a fake myth about an item or a food in our hometown. Mrs Fiore wasn't only our English teacher, but so was Ms Santos, our literature teacher. She was a little bit more meaner than Mrs fiore.

I always found Mrs Fiore kind, she always had this vibe that I could only describe as comforting. Maybe it was because she always smelt like flowers, or because her hugs always felt nice and warm.

The small things I noticed about her was that she always had a flower in hand or her auburn hair. Miss Fiore always wore this necklace with a pomegranate charm on it. She also always had at least something black on, and she for some reason would always disappear in September, sometimes August. Those were the ber-months. I always questioned why she would be gone for so long…she did mention it was to visit someone. Maybe it's her husband, though why doesn't he just live with her? Why couldn't he visit her instead of her visiting him?

Mrs fiore wasn't the only teacher who would disappear for September and august, Ms santos too. Ms Santos and Mrs fiore looked related in a way, like niece and aunt, or mother and daughter.

I gave Mrs. Fiore a small wave and passed her in the hallways, she waved back with a smile.

The weeks felt longer and more tiring as each day passes. Sometimes there would be something interesting, for example my history teacher said that whoever recited the full intro to this TV show would get an extra point on the quiz. Everyone thought it was a joke until one of my classmates, Carmen, raised her hand. 

To everyone’s surprise, she somehow managed to recite it all. She got an extra point on the quiz that day.

I wanted to raise my hand too but, I guess I was too afraid to speak. I was always too afraid to speak, I hated the fact that I was afraid.

Sitting back in my chair, I got lost in thought.

I questioned my purpose in this world. Would it be better if I just hadn't existed? What would my classmates do if I just disappeared? would they even notice?

The answer to my last question was no. One time we had a party, teachers day. I disappeared from the class party to make bracelets with Mrs Fiore, when I came back an hour later, I asked “did you notice I was gone?” 

“Uhhhh…yeaaahh?” My classmate responded uncertainty. The music was loud. Loud to make it sound like a whisper, but not loud enough for me to hear what she was saying

I knew it was a lie.

This made me truly question why I am even here, in this school. Why did my parents choose this school? They did say it was more accommodating to my ADHD. I would've been better off in some public school than this. At least there, no one talks bad about you. Well, not in front of you at least.

Maybe if I had been a better student, only then my classmates would notice me. As the day progressed, it was somewhat quiet. We had two quizzes, one in math and the other in Filipino.

Usually I had to go to a separate place to take these tests. MLP, the modified learning program. It was for kids like me, ones that had a troubled time in learning.

 There was another girl in MLP, her name was Mars. Mars and I, were friends, to say the least. How we became friends was…interesting.

Mars saw that I liked the same thing as her, which was a TV show called The Amazing Adventures of the Hare and the Lamb. It was a children's show, I just watched it because I got bored. It was a good TV show though, I re-watched it three or four times.

The moment Mars saw that I had some merch I made myself, she immediately started to talk to me. Telling me all about her favorite character, why the show’s so good, and then about a song I haven't heard of.

Ever since that day, we became friends. Though we were in different classes, she would invite me to eat lunch, she would sometimes give me rocks she found. Sometimes Mars would even just tell me a story or a character she created on the weekend. Nevertheless, I would listen to her nonstop. It wouldn't matter what mood I was in or how much homework I had, I'd always want to listen to her. It was like she was my sister in a way, or a version of me I wished to be ever since I was young.

Entering the small room for MLP, it was quiet except for the teacher there, Miss Luzviminda. Me and Mars called her Miss Luz for short. She was already there, writing some report or something. I walked into the room, giving her a small wave before sitting down.

“Did you study for the quiz, June?” She asked me, getting up from her velvet chair and handing me my quiz paper. “Yep,” I responded, bringing out my mechanical pencil. I started to write my name, just June Manalo. I didn't want to add the extra Christina, too lazy to write my full name. I looked at the paper and giving a somewhat cringed look, math.

 I didn't like math, although yes I did understand the lesson, I'd forget how to do the steps to the questions. That's why Miss Luz would help me.

Miss Luz was kind, she was like my tita. She’d always ask how I was doing or what I did during the weekends, Mars would start shaking her hands and start ranting about everything she did during the weekend, too bad she’s absent today. Miss Luz would always tell Mars to calm down a bit with a comforting smile. Mars would sit down and fidget in her seat in response. 

I started trying my best to answer the questions in the quiz, asking Miss luz if I did this or that correctly.

CHAPTER TWO: why am I like this?

The day passed very quickly, in the blink of an eye. I didn’t even really do much except for the quizzes and writing notes. At lunch I kind of just stayed at where me and Mars usually eat, which was the gate closest to our classrooms, gate two. Opening my lunch box, I brought out the lunch I made before I had left school, a simple nutella sandwich with banana and a Chuckie. Some others might say that this isn't a healthy or a filling lunch, well I can't cook.

I opened the metal container, bringing the sandwich to my mouth to take a bite, it tasted cold, I still ate it even though. Then I peeled my banana and poked my Chuckie with the straw to drink. I should really eat more, it's not really healthy to eat the same lunch everyday.

After I finished eating my sandwich, banana, and chuckie, I just sat there and opened my notebook to draw. I like drawing, usually though i'd draw some characters I've created in my head, or Mars’ characters

I started with a simple sketch of a head and eyes, not really knowing what to draw, I just went with the flow. As I kept drawing, I heard one of my teachers pass, Miss Estioco. She was my science teacher last year, she was like me. She was socially awkward but kind of a nerd, not in a bad way though. She was like one of those cool teachers who would somewhat let you do what you want, or just talk to casually.

She waved and smiled at me, a strand of her black hair falling onto her face before she brushed it behind her ear. I waved back, wondering what she was doing at gate two. I then heard a motorcycle pull up, oh she was just getting food she ordered. She walked to the gate, gave the driver the money before walking back inside. After that I just went back to drawing.

This was calming, my therapy, I liked sitting by myself and drawing. It would be better if Mars was here but this was fine enough as is. ‘The right eye’s to big.’ I thought, erasing the eye and tilting my notebook to draw it similar to the left one. Drawing was like gambling to me sometimes, I never knew if it looked nice or not, if it looked correctly portioned or not. Its like having a love hate relationship with drawing, I both love it and hate it.

An hour or 40 minutes pass, the lunch bell rung. I packed my stuff, shoving my metal empty container in with my water jug. I fixed my hair in a window that was being covered inside with a curtain. It was dark enough for me to see my reflection through the glass. ‘Eh, look good enough’ I tightened the knot of the jacket around my waist before walking back to my classroom. There were a lot of people, some in groups or just having a normal conversation. I quickly tried to walk past them, saying “excuse me” a thousand times before reaching my classroom. It was loud, really loud, there were people in small groups in the corner and the center of the classroom chatting away. The chatter of multiple conversations and the occasional yell could be heard during break. Walking over to my locker, I opened it and put my stuff inside. Reaching into my locker after putting my lunch box in it, I grabbed my apron since art was the second to last subject of the day. After that I sat back in my seat, my apron in my lap while I continued to draw.

But something felt…different. Something felt as if I was being watched from afar. I looked up and turned my head to look around the classroom, everyone was minding their own business. I tried to ignore the feeling of being watched but, I just couldn’t. I could just feel someone’s gaze staring right at me, watching my every move, like a hawk would do to prey. I felt helpless, I don't like being stared at, it's uncomfortable and awkward. 

I heard the bell ring not too long after, getting up from my seat, grabbing my pencil and putting it in my jacket’s pocket. We didn’t need much to bring, just really our apron and a pencil. I watched as everyone left the room, I was the last so I had to close the lights and close the door. Staying at the back of the line, I still could hear them talking and chatting away, gossiping or talking about plans for the weekend. 

When we reached the art room, our teacher was already there, Miss Reyes. She was there organizing the artworks of the class before us, placing them carefully on a shelf for them to dry. She greeted us with a good afternoon and told us to sit down. Miss Reyes said that we would be making an art based on a country and its tradition, people, and artwork. We’d be able to choose the country, I chose Greece since I liked studying and learning about its mythology.

She gave us a flat canvas and a marker and told us to write our name, section, and the country we chose. She also said that we could choose from a variety of art materials, varying from paints, paint brushes, sand, and newspapers. We could use any material to paint our artwork, so I chose an eraser.  Never really did I like painting or coloring, I liked doing that virtually. We were also allowed to use the computer to search for ideas for our artwork. I stood behind one of my most talkative classmates while I waited for my turn to use the computer to search for an idea. My classmate just kept talking and talking to the point it was annoying, like seriously can't you tell that it's too loud or what you're even saying didn't even make sense? She wasn't even talking to me but one of the smarter people in class, Isabel. I stood there patiently, fidgeting with the eraser. Then I just decided to draw the first thing on my mind, since time was of the essence. I walked back to the table I was situated at and began drawing up a design. It was of the goddess Persephone, most people just say that she’s the wife of Hades but she was so much more than that. She’s the goddess of spring, the queen of the underworld. She was so much more than just “hades’ wife”.

I made sure to draw her to be looking ethereal, with long flowy jellyfish like hair, eyes comforting and kind. I made sure to add her sign, a pomegranate. I gave her a simple chiton, adding some accessories like a crown, rings, bracelets, and flowers. She looked pretty, I made sure of that. 

I was seated in the corner of the classroom, with four of my classmates lingering around  my desk. They didn’t talk to me much, as I didn’t talk to them either. I kept my head down and continued drawing, overhearing their conversation. I sketched a few more lines, as they talked about another person in our batch. Something controversial, as I remember. Every day was like this actually, people talking about someone or something. 

I tried to ignore them, trust me I did, but now I know that one person in this batch is gay, I'm gay but like it's different y'know? 

Overhearing their conversation accidentally, they kept talking and yapping away about someone else now. I stayed silent, although I did know that person, but not really on the friend level more like a simple wave or hi in the hallways type. I felt sad for her, she didn’t deserve this treatment, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I kept my silence, didn’t want to add to the gossip, neither did I want to join the gossip.

As I continued to draw, I still felt as if I was being watched. Someone was watching me, that was for sure. I could feel its eyes peering into my skin, making it uncomfortable for me to draw. I stopped for a moment, looking around to see everyone talking to each other or focusing on their artwork, no one was staring at me. So I just went back to drawing, sketching lines delicately.

After I was finished with the sketch, I didn't want to color it, it was too pretty for coloring. I got up from my seat and walked over to Miss Reyes to ask her if I should color it or not. She gave me good advice, telling me to try and use shading if I didn't want to color it. I nodded and thanked her for that before walking back to my seat. Everyone else was still drawing and painting their artwork. Since I didn't know what to do, I just cleaned up my area and stayed silent while I waited for class to end. 

Boredom took over as I watched the clock tick, waiting patiently for the bell to ring. We had like, maybe five or ten minutes left I think.

The minutes passed by, everyone was still chatting and talking. I saw Miss Reyes walking around, checking up with my classmates and giving them advice about their artworks. When she walked up to me, she asked “oh june! I'm kind of worried that the bracelet you gave me might break, can I ask that you restring it?” She took off the bracelet I made for her on teacher's day. “I wear it everyday kasi” She smiled at me warmly as I took the bracelet from her hands. “Yes miss.” I replied, putting the bracelet in my pocket, she walked off as another of my classmates called her. 

More or maybe five minutes pass, it was finally the next class. I saw everyone get up, still chatting with each other as they cleaned up their tables and their workspaces. We still had one more class, religion. I was the first to be out of the art classroom, waving my teacher goodbye.

It was quiet out, no other students were walking around, no maritesses chatting around or young students running around. I liked the quiet, but I never liked being alone. After I made it back to my classroom, I drank some water as the rest of my classmates filled the room. We all waited for a bit before my religion teacher came in, Miss Elane. Almost half my batch hated her because she always goes ‘im not mad, I'm not sad, nor am I disappointed. I'm worried about you guys failing your test.’ She always says that after half the class failed her test. She expected us to memorize the bible’s verses, I can't even remember what I had for breakfast. I know, I know Miss Elane had good intentions but why did she have to say it like that?

”Good afternoon class” She said, everyone replied with a good afternoon to her too. We were all very tired, mentally and physically. She told us all to stand up to pray, though I didn't want to, so I just stood there with my arms crossed. Then with that she started her lesson on some new bible verse.

Everyone sat back down and pulled out their notebooks to start taking notes on the verse. I didn't want to take notes, for I was too tired to do so. “June, what was Abraham promised?” she called on me unexpectedly. “He was promised angels?” I answered, standing up. Miss Elane just sighed before turning to the board to write, I am scared. Maybe I got scared because of her glare, how intimidating her ‘comforting’ smile was, or how she would always pull me out of class to ask me personal questions. I always tried to answer them vaguely and asked her if I could leave. 

 She would always call me the black sheep of the flock, commenting on how I would always walk a bit slower then my class so I don't have to socialize with them. I didn’t like her one bit, I didn’t like how she would try to talk to me, trying to pry me away from my class. There was even a time where, I swear to you that Miss Elane blinked sideways.

[arklayraven]

Feel I could of wrote this better but am too tired to try again. So have this mess as is. lol

As very upsetting and heartbreaking, even angering a bit, the news about OM is.

I am grateful for the game for something it introduced me to and gave.

Inclusivity.

Before OM, I didn't play much games of the genre because didn't think there was much that I could play that would be inclusive to me as a queer trans person. Then OM came along, a otome, that I randomly found and tried finally one day, but with its own personal twist and style.

That twist/style being, small to some but huge and meaningful to others. A gender less/neutral MC, with no appearance (unless you count the sheep lol), who canonly uses they/them pronouns and was one perfect for people to self insert themselves in. Than feel they are playing a typical generic woman MC in a otome game.

And because of this fact, all the characters who are romanceable and dateable are by default canonly queer. Because they love the MC regardless of their gender identity or lack of. (Headcanoning them pan lol 💗💛💙)

Now, some have tried to say, argue in fact, that because of this, OM isn't a otome, but that is very wrong because it still is one, and people were just gatekeeping at this point. Even were against the whole fact words can evolve/expand on meaning throughout the years. I've talked too much about this issue, that you can find my posts about it I'm sure if you look, but i'll share them again soon if needed.

Some even say the MC isn't gender less/neutral, to fight against this to keep other players than cis hetero women from playing it too. Even though we have constant proof of this, and even the devs said it themselves and explained their decision for it.

(As well people were being openly queerphobic at this point, especially when they said the characters weren't canonly queer when they are. Because it made them upset to admit the fact they were romancing a canon queer character(s) in the game. They are canonly queer. Deal with it. <3)

It was a feature, the devs didn't need to make and add I feel to make their game a success. But they did still anyway and am entirely grateful for it, because I feel this only inspired some other game devs, (specifically some indie VNs ones) to do same/similar like them with their own MC in games.

There has been some other well known big name otome games who tried this too, but not as well as OM I feel. At least not as yet. Though some introduced the option to be either a man or woman in those games now, some even give the option to be nonbinary too if lucky.

But not many games do this a lot, not enough I feel compared to others. Though its still something when it finally happens, and the change/impact from OM has been felt and seen I feel. Which makes me happy when it comes to more inclusivity in those games and genre when included.

Currently still, inclusivity in these games are still a rarity I feel in times. Might be a even bigger battle to have more of it in the future with how things have been getting for queer and trans peoples rights and all...But I hope with OM closing this chapter of their life with the games. It'll inspire others to make their own games with such lovely inclusivity or even more, like OM has.

So to anyone who made a game inspired by OM, who has a self insert MC who is inclusive any and all players, regardless of their gender identity or lack of...

Thank you. Thank you so much for giving us that small but meaningful option for us players. So that we may be able to play and engage with your game/story/characters more deeply and personally. Than feel unwelcomed or not allowed to be included just because of our queer and gender(or lack of) identity. 💕

[atleastpleasetelephone]

IK YOUR DOING KINKTOBER RN BUT I HAVE A REQUEST FOR WHENEVER. JERRY AND E... JUST THEM.. BUT. ELVIS BEING NEEDY FOR JERRY . HEAR ME OUT.

Sorry Always Seems To Be The Hardest Word

A/N: well, well, well. I hope you enjoy, anon! I actually used to write m/m slashfic so this is very much in my wheelhouse. Also happy thanksgiving to my American friends lol.

Pairing: Elvis x Jerry

Word count: 3K

TWs: I mean, fairly obviously it's Elvis x Jerry and there's no reader. Infidelity, dry humping, blowjob, little bit of choking.

“Jer? Jer? JERRY?” Elvis walks around the house, shouting. But there’s no reply. 

He sighs deeply. Damn stupid argument about Sandy. He couldn’t believe Jerry would have just stormed off though, and he’s starting to worry about where exactly he might be. He’s got used to having Jerry around. No, it’s more than that. He loves having Jerry around. He doesn’t insist on violent games all the time like Red and Sonny do, and he’s less of a yes man than Charlie. In fact, when he thinks about it, Jerry might be his favourite member of the Mafia right now. His best friend, even. He pinches the bridge of his nose. How has he managed to lose his best friend?

The door clunks loudly and Elvis hears footsteps, but he doesn’t move from the living room. The TV isn’t on and neither are most of the lights, just one lamp near where he’s sitting on the couch. The footsteps get closer, and he hears some heavy breathing too. Then a familiar silhouette appears in the doorway. 

“E.”

Elvis nods, curtly. “Jerry.”

“Look, um…” Jerry starts, not really sure where he’s going with the sentence. The whole day had been an absolute trip. From the fight with Elvis to being spotted by a model agency, he really isn’t sure which way is up right now. And he’s exhausted from walking ten miles across LA. 

Elvis waves a hand. “It’s fine. You’re back now.”

Jerry frowns. “What’s fine?”

“You storming off like you did. It was stupid but it’s happened now. Just make sure you don’t leave set like that again.”

Jerry’s eyes go wide and he steps further into the room. “You’re not going to apologise for what you said about Sandy?”

Elvis turns towards him, his eyes set on full beam. “Why should I apologise? It must’ve been her.”

Jerry shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ve had it. You know what? I’ve had an offer from a modelling agency. And I’m going to take it up.”

Elvis gets up quickly from the couch, furious but at the same time shocked. A modelling agency? Well, he supposes he had always thought Jerry was kind of attractive, for a guy. Not that he thought of guys like that. At all. 

“A modelling agency?” He spits. It’s all he can think of to say. 

“Yeah. A talent scout spotted me. Offered me a place. Plenty of lucrative jobs where I don’t have to deal with my boss accusing my girlfriend of spreading rumours about him. Rumours that are so obviously true anyway.” Jerry can’t resist the last jab, now he’s decided to leave. Might as well go all in. 

Elvis closes the gap between them, grabbing Jerry’s shirt collar and pulling him closer. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jerry shrugs him off, angrily, and steps back. “You know what it means. I’ll be in my room, packing.” And with that, he turns and storms off. 

***

Jerry’s hands are shaking as he tries to fold his clothes and put them back in his suitcase. Threatening to storm out of the house in LA is not quite as dramatic as it would have been to storm out of his room in Graceland, all his worldly possessions in tow, but he still feels a rush of adrenalin. He’s never fought with Elvis before, but he’s seen the other man’s temper and knows he’s not to be trifled with. Still, Sandy is a nice, kind girl, and he has to defend her honour. How Elvis could think she’d spread rumours about him is absolutely beyond Jerry.

He pulls open the drawer of his bedside cabinet and grabs the contents, about to stuff them all in his case too, when he notices the title of the book in his hand. Dropping the other bits and bobs on the bed, he sighs. The Impersonal Life. Elvis had given him this copy, on the promise that they would sit down together and talk about it. It’s one of Jerry’s favourite things about Elvis - his passion for reading and self-improvement - although he knows his opinion isn’t shared with many of the other guys. Only really Larry, at this point. He sits down on the bed and flips the book open at a random page. 

“You may, with your personality, try a thousand times a thousand times to break through the shell of your human consciousness.”

That sounds like Elvis, all right.

“Thought you were leavin’.”

The voice is very quiet but it makes Jerry jump all the same. Elvis had crept into the open doorway like a ninja, and Jerry hadn’t heard a thing. Now he leans on the wall, looking down at his fingers and fiddling with the rings on them awkwardly. 

“I am,” Jerry replies, closing the book and putting it in his suitcase. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

Elvis’ eyes widen and he looks up, letting his hands fall back by his sides. “I um… yer… yer wanted, Jerry…”

The other man carries on busying himself with packing, moving quickly around the room, emptying drawers and pushing more and more things into the bulging suitcase. His hands are shaking again and he can hear his breathing, ragged and a little too loud. He doesn’t want to look at Elvis, in the doorway, behaving oddly. He’d prefer a steaming row rather than this strange, tense kind of stand-off. 

“I’ve got a good opportunity,” he starts to say, almost to himself. “An opportunity to do something for myself. I have to take it.”

Elvis is gripping the door frame at this point, staring at the other man with such intensity he’s almost expecting to burn a hole right through him with his eyes. But Jerry is still ignoring him. What is happening?

“This isn’t the life for me. I need my own career, E.”

Jerry stares at the top of the suitcase, full to bursting now with his possessions, and wonders how he’s going to close it. He also wonders just what exactly he’ll do after that, to continue to avoid Elvis’ insistent gaze. Maybe slowly get down on the floor and slide under the bed. He suddenly feels two strong hands on his shoulders, forcibly turning him around. 

“I wish ya’d just look at me, damnit.”

Jerry doesn’t have much choice, Elvis’ face is inches away from his own now, and his eyes are on fire. Long fingers are digging into his triceps as those lips curl into a sneer. 

“You can’t leave me.”

Jerry frowns, starting to get annoyed again. “Why not?” He spits, moving his arms to try and free himself from Elvis’ grip, and pushing him hard in the centre of the chest. 

“Because I SAID SO,” Elvis thunders back, punctuating the words with a shove to Jerry’s chest in return. 

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Jerry goes for another shove, but Elvis anticipates him and loops his arms through Jerry’s, trying for some kind of double-arm lock and ending up with the other man’s forehead pressed against his own. 

“That’s exactly what I am,” he hisses in response. 

They’re both still then, semi-trapped in the deliberate tangle of arms and semi-trapped staring into one another’s eyes. Jerry can hear his heart thumping in his chest, he’s still mad but Elvis is so close, and there’s something so intoxicating about him right now. Elvis huffs air out of his nose like an angry bull, trying to work out what to do next. He knows he should let go of Jerry’s arms, but he doesn’t want to. He likes Jerry this close. Likes it a little more than he thinks he should. He moves his head slightly and presses an experimental kiss against the other man’s lips. 

Jerry feels like his heart has stopped. He can’t pretend he hasn’t thought about this before. Elvis is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, the most beautiful man that probably anyone has ever seen… and his lips are so soft. WHAT ABOUT SANDY? Flashes up in his brain, over and over, in big neon letters as he kisses the other man back. It’s still there when Elvis lets his arms go and puts his arms around him instead, pulling him in close for a passionate kiss that lands both of them staggering towards Jerry’s bed and falling onto it in a tangle of limbs, knocking the overflowing suitcase onto the floor. 

“Shit,” Jerry mutters as the loud bang makes them pull apart and he peers down at the mess. 

Elvis’ heart is hammering in his chest as Jerry looks back at him. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to run away from the situation he’s just created. What is he doing with another man on his bed? He can feel his face getting red but he’s still just staring at Jerry, who really is quite handsome and apparently has a modelling career just waiting for him. 

“All that time packing…” he mutters, an empty sort of statement that he doesn’t know why he says, other than just to fill the silence. 

Jerry looks from Elvis’ eyes down to his lips, shining with saliva, and then back up again, as if that might help him understand what the other man just said. He can hear blood rushing through his ears and he wonders if he’s going to pass out. Elvis on the other hand takes Jerry’s looks as a signal to go back to what they were doing, which seems a damn sight easier than either thinking about it or talking about it. He crashes his lips back into the other man’s and rolls on top of him. Jerry groans into his mouth, feeling their bodies pressing against one another. It’s good for a moment, but then he realises he doesn’t want Elvis in charge of this, he wants control. So he pushes on the other man’s chest and rolls himself on top instead. Elvis feels himself letting it happen, letting someone else take control, and his brain goes pleasantly blank. Someone else was always in control nowadays, the Colonel, Priscilla, whoever happened to be directing the latest shitty movie. Why should this be any different?

Jerry thrusts his tongue deeper and deeper into the older man’s mouth, wanting more and more. It’s as if a switch has been flipped in his brain and now he’s committed to this. The neon sign reminding him about Sandy has been switched off, and all there is is a giant ELVIS sign instead. The same one that’s been shining since they met all those years ago playing football. He’d always admired Elvis, an admiration bordering on obsession and love, and now it seems like that admiration is completely unfettered. He’s given himself permission, and he wants it all. There might not be another opportunity, in fact there almost definitely won’t be. The concept of an empty house, for a start, is a completely alien one in the Presley world. And Jerry can’t help but feel that as soon as they pull apart for any significant amount of time the spell will be broken and Elvis will just pretend this never happened. 

Elvis has only ever kissed girls like this, and not for a while. He can feel himself regressing to his 19 year old self, kissing and dry humping, his hips bucking up into Jerry’s, the odd but satisfying sensation of his clothed dick rubbing against another one. Then he starts to think again about their argument, about Jerry threatening to leave when Elvis feels like he’s the only decent friend he has left right now. One of the only joyful things in a depressing life of shitty movie after shitty movie and crappy soundtrack after crappy soundtrack. He can’t let that happen. He has to find a way to make Jerry stay, a way to apologise. 

He grabs the other man’s head with both of his hands and forces him to stop kissing for a moment. 

“Lemme suck ya.”

Not a sentence Elvis ever thought he would say, but Jerry wastes no time scrambling to sit up and pull down his jeans and boxers. He’s starting to regret not showering when he got in - that ten mile walk had definitely made him sweaty and if he’d known this was going to happen… well. Obviously he had no way of knowing this was going to happen. Of all of the things he’d thought of during that stupidly long walk, this had not even registered as a possibility. 

Elvis sits up and looks at the big, cut dick next to him. He swallows awkwardly and wonders what he ought to do next. His own dick is confused. Little Elvis had very much enjoyed the kissing and the rubbing, but is shrinking slightly now being faced with the prospect of Elvis putting his mouth around another man’s junk. But Elvis himself just keeps thinking about the fact that Jerry said he would leave him, the fact that he’d upset his best friend and he wants more than anything to resolve the situation. He wants Jerry. He needs him. And he kinda wants to suck his dick right now.

Jerry decides that maybe Elvis needs a little encouragement. They can’t remain in this weird position, Jerry sitting there with his pants half-pulled down and the other man just staring at his dick and balls. He wraps a hand around his length and starts to pump it, slowly. Elvis still doesn’t move, so he very cautiously puts a hand to the other man’s cheek and then rubs his thumb across those plush lips. Elvis parts them, instinctively, and feels the end of the other man’s thumb slip into his mouth. He moans softly as he sucks a little, and then moves eagerly to take the whole digit, sliding his mouth back and forth on it pornographically and looking up at Jerry through his lashes. Jerry feels like he could just cum there and then, watching that little show, but he slows his movements on himself down and just watches, chest heaving with desire. 

Eventually he pulls his thumb back out and Elvis sighs. Little Elvis is standing to attention again now, pressing against his pants, fully wanting him to suck this other man off. So he dips his head down and takes the end of Jerry’s dick in his mouth, slowly and carefully. His tongue slides against the underside of the shaft and Jerry moans loudly, slamming his hand down on the mattress. Emboldened, Elvis crawls closer, one hand pressing on the younger man’s hip as he starts to take more of him, tongue corkscrewing around the head and then the shaft. 

“Fuck!”

Elvis doesn’t stop, repeating the movement over and over as he takes more and more of Jerry’s dick in his mouth and down his throat. He’s surprised to find that he doesn’t have much of a gag reflex, so the only thing holding him back from getting the whole thing inside is how girthy it is, and how difficult that makes breathing through his nose. But he doesn’t let that stop him, and soon he’s moving up and down as the other man moans and groans. It’s hard to judge properly, since he’s so used to women, but he feels like Jerry is close for a while and he can’t get him there. His jaw is getting sore, so he slows down a bit and tries to get his breath back. Jerry grunts with frustration. He’d been pretty close a few minutes ago but now Elvis has slowed down and he’s not that close anymore. He starts to think about their fight again, about how mad he’d been, how much he’d wanted to just leave. And now Elvis is half way through a blowjob and can’t be bothered to finish him off. Jerry grabs hold of the other man’s hair roughly and starts to thrust up into his mouth, determined to get his orgasm even if he has to do the work himself. Elvis blinks in surprise and tries to move his head but finds he can’t, Jerry has his hair in a firm grip and there’s a big dick plunging down his throat, almost choking him as Jerry picks up the pace, cursing and moaning as he starts to get close again. Elvis steadies himself with his hands on either side of Jerry’s hips and just decides to let it happen. He deserves this, at this point. And Jerry deserves to cum. 

“Oh God! Elvis!” 

Jerry doesn’t mean to call out Elvis’ name when he cums, but that’s exactly what happens. Elvis doesn’t mean to cum in his pants whilst having his mouth fucked either. But Jerry calling out his name certainly doesn’t hurt. He rolls onto his back, panting, his mind going at a million miles an hour thinking what he’s going to do next. 

Jerry’s head is spinning too. He just came down Elvis Presley’s throat. That was the best orgasm of his life, and he’ll never be able to tell anyone about it. He wonders if that’s really such a bad thing. This can be his precious little secret, something just for him. He turns to look at the other man, lying next to him, still breathing hard. Elvis’ face is flushed and he looks fucked. Jerry starts to think about returning the favour, his eyes trailing down to Elvis’ pants when he notices the damp patch there. He must’ve… oh God. Jerry takes a deep, shaky breath, as thoughts start to crowd into his brain. He decides to silence them by leaning over to press a gentle kiss onto those marshmallow lips. 

“Thanks,” he whispers, awkwardly. 

Elvis looks up at him through hooded eyes. “No, Jerry,” he whispers back, his hand on the back of Jerry’s head, fingers in his hair. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t leave.”

There’s a long silence as Jerry stares down into those beautiful blue eyes. Eventually he makes himself speak again. 

“I couldn’t, Elvis. Even if I wanted to.”

***

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

[petit-papillion]

As a follow-up to some previous discussions regarding whether Charles was on board with Lewis coming to Ferarri or not:

I firmly believe Fred is at Ferrari because Charles wanted him there. And I think (again, all my opinion) Fred was asked to not only turn things around for Ferrari, but to build a team around Charles. Ferrari wants that dream of their homegrown, immensely likeable driver becoming their next WDC. Think Monza 2019 to the power of 100.

So Charles needs a teammate who will be able to help him get there, and it was clear that was not going to be Carlos. Different driving styles and setups, different comfort levels (when Carlos felt comfortable, the car did not perform well. When Charles felt comfortable, Carlos struggled to keep up.), and different attitudes (for Charles the team result always comes first, Carlos often wants to best his teammate).

I'm not sure who else Fred may have had his eye on to replace Carlos, but with John Elkann pursuing Lewis, I'm sure both Fred and Charles were in the know. And to have Lewis at Ferrari, I mean, come on! Look at the excitement it's created this week. It's a massive move by Ferrari to have two star drivers.

And yes, we know Lewis is (was?) hungry for that elusive 8 wdc, but he also dreamed of driving for Ferrari since he was a kid. So to be able to make that dream come true at the end of his career no doubt means the world to him.

Thinking about what this means for future (potential) championships: I think Ferrari has more to gain from Charles becoming the next WDC than Lewis getting his 8th. Yes, it would be another notch in Lewis's more-than-impressive belt, but it would mean so much more if it was their FDA-graduate, pseudo-Italian, lovable talent. Now they would have 2 WDCs to boast of. The boost in confidence it would give Charles would be huge. And his reputation at Ferrari would be cemented in history.

This doesn't mean I see Lewis as a number 2 driver. Absolutely not. More as equal partners with the common goal to lead Ferrari back to WCC, and eventually WDC. Ferrari will need two solid title contenders to steal enough points from alien-level Max.

Which also reminds me about how this move has put so much pressure on both Mercedes and Red Bull who now find themselves up against a team with a power duo of drivers. Red Bull only having 1 strong driver who's been single-handedly carrying their championships, and Merc is in an even bigger bind having lost their star driver. I'm sure George will be excited to be out of Lewis's shadow, but I think he still had a lot to learn from him. I guess he can still do so this year, but it won't be the same.

I firmly believe that, long term, Ferrari will be betting on Charles to lead the team, with Lewis having an important role as Ferrari's ambassador after he retires. Short term, they need two drivers who are on the same page with car development, driving capabilities, and team focus. I think that is exactly what they will have with Charles and Lewis.

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A digital drawing of Minos Prime from Ultrakill, who's wearing a strapless slit dress and sandals of the same deep purple. He faces towards and slightly to the right of the camera, his head is tilted further right. With one hand he gestures in a vague pointing motion, his arm folded and held close to his body. There is nothing in the background, but bracing himself on one arm, Minos is implied to be leaning against something about the height of a countertop. The background is a blank purplish black, save for three diagonal stripes in the colors of the bisexual flag. End ID]

Shading study that quite literally came to me in a dream two weeks ago, after this post apparently beamed itself into my mind

(also a few edits below the cut! they're very slight but whatever :])

[Start ID. Three different versions of the previous drawing. The first changes the tone of the lighting from blue to pink, and similarly the shading from pink to blue. The second replaces the faint black border with pink, purple and blue, syncing with the stripes in the background. The third combines both these changes. End ID]

[dorkicon]

bitching abt homophobia n shit at my job in the tags o7 happy pride

[tariah23]

I fell asleep and woke up from a bad jjk dream where kenjaku took over Gojo’s body- (after reading the new chapter…)