#but i was only there for less than an hour but i was so so so terrified that i very nearly left before even seeing him

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 1 | masterlist

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“I’m not looking for a babysitter that can only come by every now and then,” he says sternly and pauses for emphasis, brows furrowing to convey the seriousness of the situation. “I’ve got a busy schedule and his mom isn’t in the picture. I need a real commitment.”

You sit across from him wringing your hands under the kitchen table, wondering again what it is you’re doing here. Babysitting has never been your schtick; you’re somewhere in between too old to do it as a casual gig for extra cash and too young and inexperienced to be considered for a full-time position. 

Yet, it seems like that’s what he’s looking for, based on the information he’s told you and your general impression from having been in his house for less than twenty minutes. The house is a mess—toys strewn across the baby’s bedroom and the living room, dishes crusted with day old food sitting in the sink, the bookshelf in his study covered in a fine layer of dust that tells you that this man spends so little time in his own house that it’s become something of a requiem to single fatherhood. 

“So, a nanny?” you ask.

He hems and haws over that for a bit. “Bit too fancy for my tastes, but that’s more like it. It won’t just be watching the baby—I need someone who can help out around the house as well. ‘Used to run a tight ship before him, but cleaning’s not been my highest priority these days. Sure you’ve picked up on that.” He says the last part wryly, lips curling up into a crooked grin under his mustache. 

“Well…” You trail off while glancing at the mess in the living room out of the corner of your eye, toys and blocks scattered over the playmat. Your own smile is sheepish. 

“I work odd hours, so I’ll be gone a lot; you’ll probably have a few late nights here, but I pay well. Think that’s something you can handle?”

A polite refusal sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it back, suddenly conscious again of the dwindling funds in your bank account. It’s not that you don’t think you could handle the job. You’ve babysat before (only preteens, you correct yourself internally, but surely there are some transferable skills there). And, eclipsing all of your arguments in favour of walking out the door right now, is the very salient and pressing need for an actual income. 

“You’re military, you said?” you croak out instead.

He nods, hums. “Bit of a glorified desk job these days. They don’t put the old timers out in the field. Still, keeps me busy.”

You frown at that. “You’re not that old.”

That gets him to cock an eyebrow. “Love, I’m over twice your age, easy. I’m plenty old for a first time father on top of that; should’ve already been an old hand at this, but I’ve been married to the job for too long.”

You don’t ask if the baby was an accident or how it came to be that he chose to raise the baby on his own rather than try to work something out with the mother or give him up altogether. It seems uncouth. Rude. It’s none of your business and, more to the point, hardly relevant to the job. It’s just your own insatiable need to pry and know every little detail raising its head to sniff the air. 

“Well, I think—” You chew on your words and then backtrack. “—I can handle the job. I live nearby, so I can be here whenever you need me. If you need references, I can—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, waving a hand in front of him. “I’m a good judge of character. If you wanna help put the baby to bed, we can talk salary and I’ll go over my schedule this week with you.”

The chair scrapes against the tile floor when he stands up, pushing it out from under him. Standing, he towers over you, a big, fit man despite his protests to the contrary. Hardly out of his prime. You’d put him at forty-five at the latest, and still a work horse of a man at that; broad like a draft horse, like he flips tires and runs marathons for fun. When you push out your chair and stand as well, you’re still forced to look up at him. 

“Sure can, Mister…—?” You realize with a slight start that you only remember his first name, though it hardly feels appropriate to call him by that given the fact that he’s about to become your boss. Already is your boss. 

“Price. But John works just fine,” he corrects, his smile warm, almost paternalistic. 

You ignore the flash of heat up your spine and the way your belly constricts when he reaches across the table to shake your hand. His big, calloused palm dwarfs yours, fingers easily overlapping. You might as well be shaking a mitt. 

“Well, thanks for the job, John,” you say with a smile of your own, ignoring the way yours strains at the end, anxiety already gnawing a hole through the lining of your stomach that your stomach acid will now most certainly leak through. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

His words seem like a bellwether for something that you can’t yet articulate or even anticipate. Regardless, they make you swallow reflexively when you start salivating out of nowhere. You should probably quit on the spot actually, just out of principle alone, but again you remember the gut-churning sensation of checking your bank balance in the middle of the grocery store the other day before putting half of the contents of your cart back onto the shelf beside you. 

You follow him into the playroom instead, where a fuzzy headed infant gasps up at his daddy, blinking big lovestruck eyes up at him. Your own heart feels like a melted caramel in your chest when John picks his son up, eyes crinkling with affection. The baby is so tiny in his arms.

Any thought of being a good person evaporates from your mind. As if you ever had a chance. 

You don’t know how he found you. Through a friend of a friend of a friend’s dad’s coworker, maybe. Word of mouth. Watercooler conversation and a heaping cup of gossip.

“Did you hear the Captain’s looking for a babysitter?”

“For what? To bang?”

“No, dipshit. He knocked some broad up and she left him with the baby.”

“No kidding. The Captain?”

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ say that?”

“Price, you mean? Captain Price?”

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? Yeah—Price.”

“Christ. Godspeed to him. A baby. Goddamn.”

“Give it a rest, it happens all the time. That’s why you always wrap it up. Anyway, you know of anyone that’d be up for it?”

And then somehow, your name gets mentioned. Much to your relief. Job opportunities don’t knock on your door all that often, and when John finally gets around to telling you your hourly rate, you almost burst into hysterical giggles in front of him. It’s more than you expected. More than you deserve, if you’re being honest. You’re retroactively grateful that he didn’t ask you to name your rate because you wouldn’t have dared propose something anywhere close to what he offers.

It’s a straightforward gig. John doesn’t work the typical nine-to-five, so you show up at the times he made you write down on that first day in his living room after your interview and you leave whenever he comes home. The first week is fairly true to the schedule he laid out for you. He’s only late by around half an hour one evening, but that was another condition that he made you well aware of prior to giving you the job. 

You know better than to put up a fuss. You’re already learning on the job as it is; with your anxiety at a ten at all times, you appreciate the extra half hour to keep googling baby-specific information. What to do during tummy time. The benefits of baby massage. How to change a diaper. You’re learning all sorts of things these days.

To your credit, he could’ve done worse. The day after John hires you, you sign up for an intensive babysitting course over the weekend and read the online manual front to back. Your CPR certificate is still valid, but you book a refresher course as well just to be on the safe side. It’s a bit unbearable to watch the funds drain out of your account before you’ve even had a chance to earn your first paycheck, but it’s worth it for the burgeoning confidence that you bring on your first day.

Babies are fun to be around, you realize, much to your own delight. Babysitting—or rather, nannying, but John still introduces you to the neighbours as his babysitter, plus nannying requires a host of additional accreditations that you simply just do not have—might not have been a job that you ever expected yourself to like, but you find yourself kind of morose at the end of each day when you have to say goodbye to baby, and even going so far as to turn in early when you get home so you’ll be ready bright and early the next morning.

Babies also smell better than anything you’ve ever smelt in your life. You could huff the top of this little guy’s head morning, noon, and night. Milky and clean; it barely takes a few days to become addicted to the smell of his little head. When he’s cradled in your arms, you can’t help but press your nose to the top of his head and take a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. It’s some good shit. 

You keep a journal filled with notes to relay to John when he comes home at the end of the night and keep your phone close to you during babytime to film any important moments that John might’ve otherwise missed. 

“He started babbling today,” you tell John the second he walks through the door, the video already pulled up on your phone. You haven’t felt this excited in ages. “Look.” 

He’s still in his fatigues and everything, but he humours you and takes the baby when you pass him over, cooing and tickling his belly until the baby squeals and babbles again for him. 

“See?” you gush, mooning over him. You don’t have the presence of mind to be self-conscious in the moment. 

“Yeah,” John remarks, lifting his son up to blow a raspberry into his belly and grinning at his ensuing peals of laughter. “Ain’t that something.”

If the smile in his voice has anything to do with you, you don’t pick up on it.

On top of everything, John turns out to be a really good boss. Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior, he’s remarkably kind and patient with you. He doesn’t nag you for missing a spot when cleaning the bathroom. He doesn’t scold you the day your car breaks down and you’re forced to take the nearest bus to his place, tacking on an extra twenty minutes to your commute, even though that means that he’s invariably late for work. When you accidentally use scouring powder on the inside of his Le Creuset Dutch oven and scratch off the enamel, he gently talks you out of a sobbing fit, seemingly unbothered by the state of his scratched up crockery.

He shrugs when you bring it up. “It’s got a lifetime warranty anyway. I’ll bring it into the shop over the weekend. No use getting upset about it.”

Unflappable. That’s the word for it. It’s like as long as he’s able to come home to the baby and you in one piece, nothing else matters, and that sense of calm permeates the whole house; for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to walk on eggshells around someone. 

Your only qualm—and it’s hardly even a qualm, to be honest, more of just an observation—is that John is more of a physical person than you are. 

When he wants to move you, he does—two big hands clamped around your waist and only a fraction of his strength to move you away from the stove so he can take over cooking while you check on the baby, your mouth hanging open, aghast. Fuming at his nerve. The gall of him to manhandle you. 

You don’t hold it against him though. You haven’t spent much time around groups of men, but you’ve seen military movies before and it seems like the status quo for men to grab and push each other around. If anything, he’s gentle with you. 

It’s just that—and again, John’s the first adult man you’ve spent any one-on-one time with, what with it just being the two of you and the baby in his house, so your frame of reference is microscopic—you’re not completely sure whether it’s appropriate for your boss to be so touchy. 

You don���t mean to insinuate that he’s being inappropriate. It’s just that—and again you have to catch yourself before you go making assertions about people because John is honestly such a nice man and he’s done nothing but treat you fairly and made you feel safe and welcome, but…—sometimes he insists on you staying over for dinner after he comes home from work and doesn’t take no for an answer.

You’re never in any rush to leave. There’s not exactly anything waiting for you in your dingy little apartment. So when he asks you to stay, you have no good reason to refuse. It’s nice to get a free meal as well. With the way John gives you unfettered access to the fridge and pantry, you hardly need to buy groceries at all these days. You feel a little guilty about that, but you know what it’s like to go hungry.

Maybe that’s why you stay for supper the first time he asks a couple weeks into you working for him. You’re subconsciously mortified that you’ll eat his food when he’s not gone but not when he offers it to you.

At least dinner feels like something you’ve been given rather than just taking, taking, taking. 

Not to mention you’ve developed something of a rapport. There’s always something to talk about with John: the baby, his work, a show you watched on TV after putting the baby down for a nap, the new big Tesco four blocks from your place, his late teens before joining the military (“back when you weren’t even a thought in your mum’s head,” he jokes, cutting into his steak and something in your brain pops and fritzes out like the static between radio stations). 

The first few suppers are sporadic and never long enough to make you feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. In all honesty, they’re the few bright spots in an otherwise dull life. Outside of your job and the infrequent dinners, you’re estranged from your family and you’ve only got a few close friends in town that you see maybe once or twice a month. Nothing to write home about. Some Friday nights, the yoga studio near your flat has a five pound community class that you pop in for, but those are infrequent too. 

Then there’s the odd night where he shoos you into the living room to put on a movie while he cleans up after dinner. You stare absentmindedly at his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves and then jump when you find him staring at you expectantly over his shoulder.

“Go put something on,” John tells you, a warning look in his eye. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Sorry,” you whisper before slipping off into the living room.

You can’t relax on the couch while you wait. You flinch when he finally joins you, sitting down on the other side of the couch suddenly. You hadn’t even heard him coming; he’s light on his feet for such a big man. 

The buddy cop comedy you picked barely distracts you from the fact that your boss is sitting on the other side of the couch. You spend the whole two hour run time so nervous that you’re afraid you’ll buzz right out of your skin. 

For absolutely no reason, of course, because all John does is make light conversation with you throughout the movie. Conversation that you respond to in curt, choked whispers. When he walks you to the door after the movie, all you can focus on is how utterly embarrassed you are for being so weird.

Your dreams that night come frantic and heady. Humid under the blanket. The phantom feeling of a body heavier than yours weighing down one side of the couch and you sliding towards it gradually, unable to even cling onto the arm of the couch to keep from falling into his lap. 

Then hands on your belly, cupping and holding. Thick fingers with hairy knuckles. A warm, tobacco smell wafting under your nose, sweet like tonka bean and smoke. Nothing you can do to keep them from travelling down your stomach and thighs and spreading your legs wide, big hands curving around your inner thighs until—

You wake up panting, fingers pressed against your clit in your sleep. It takes nothing to bring yourself over the edge, dark blue eyes swimming on the precipice of your conscious mind. 

“Sleep well?” John asks you the next morning when you show up on his doorstep, handing you the baby before you’ve even said so much as a word. You hold the baby to your chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to put some distance between you and the man who has now taken to starring in your dreams. 

“Not bad,” you squeak. 

You flinch when he guides you in with a hand on your back and shuts the door behind you. Your cunt pulses when his fingers press firm against the small of your back, hand bigger than you remembered from your dream.

As if you were ever going to end up anywhere but here.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Prima Nocta

Marcus Acacius x Virgin!F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: DUB CON only due to nature of prima nocta, both parties enthusiastically consent, twist on prima nocta, unspecified age gap, loss of virginity, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex, unrealistic descriptions of first sexual experience, all manners of historical inaccuracies and linguistic anachronisms sorry not sorry, ignores the events of the movie so you can consider this an AU, Marcus is widowed and has a son, shall we call this bfd: Ancient Rome version lmao

Notes: I'm a bit rusty for sure, but I had the absolute best time writing this oneshot. It's a departure from my usual themes to say the least, but once this idea took hold of me it never let go. I know prima nocta is meant to be invoked on the wedding night, but I like the idea of it being the night before so I made it so 🤷🏻‍♀️ Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics as always.

He thought he had gotten away with it. Having lived more than fifty winters in the capital and outlasting eight emperors, he regrets to confess that he is still none the wiser. 

It would have been such a clever manoeuvre. Palming off a generous but very much unwanted gift from the emperors, and marrying off his son in one fell swoop. 

He should have been suspicious of their swift assent to his proposal. In his eagerness to bow out of their audience, it had been convenient to dismiss the flash of malice in their eyes.

And in the snake pits of Roman court, no misstep goes unexploited.

He is not proud that he is caught off guard by the emperor’s closest advisor who intercepts his walk home from the armoury, even less so of his ineloquent response to the missive handed to him.

‘What is this?’

‘Urgent word from the emperors, sir.’

Cold sweat prickles the back of his neck as he stares unseeingly at what is scrawled on the parchment.

‘I cannot,’ he blurts out, indignance rising fast and hot in his chest. ‘I will not.’

‘You think it wise to twice refuse the emperors’ generosity, general?’

General. To him, the culmination of a lifetime of service and sacrifice. To them, an instrument of bloodshed in war, a plaything in peacetime.

Desperate, he tries a different tact. ‘The right of the first night belongs to the emperors. I dare not commit sacrilege.’

‘It is not sacrilege if it is freely bequeathed upon you, general.’

There is no mistaking the warning lilt in the last word, and he has no answer.

‘The hour grows late. You had better not keep the bride waiting,’ says the advisor with an air of finality before retreating into the shadows.

Marcus shudders at the cold that settles into the empty space, fingers stained with ink from the now crumpled dispatch. 

He remembers nothing of the remainder of his short journey to his quarters. As the front door swings open, he realises there is something in the night air that is out of place.

Sea salt.

You are here. 

Would you be demure? Frightened? You are of royal lineage, a lady of the small but proud coastal kingdom strong-armed by Rome into an unequal treaty for its profitable trading posts, in return for the mercy of not being razed to its fertile grounds.

And now, you are lowered to marry a general’s son. 

Worse, lowered to have your virginity taken by his father.

Candlelight spills from the crack underneath the door to his bedchamber. Marcus takes a deep breath, and pushes it open.

You hear him. The swish of fabric, the slide of leather soles on marble.

The general is here.

Your hand in marriage is part of the terms of the treaty, and the missive that sent for you announced your match as the widowed hero general. You had him cast on the wretched journey from your home as one of the domineering, brutish soldiers now garrisoned at your family’s kingdom - only to be told on your arrival that you will be marrying his son instead.

Relief at the news that your future husband would not be decades older than you is instantly snatched away by furtive whispers of prima nocta.

Your future father-in-law will take you first.

The humiliation is bitter on your tongue. You are Rome’s to marry off, hers to give to whomever she pleases -

But she won’t break you.

The door creaks. You stand tall and hold your ground.

He sweeps into the room with an air of well-worn authority, the cloak on his back dark as the shadows that nip at his heels.

The candles flicker when he sheds the heavy robes with a smooth sweep of his arm.

You stare, in a manner that would have had your lady-in-waiting tutting. But you are alone, very much so, with this man not ten paces from you.

General Marcus Acacius. 

He is older, certainly old enough to have a son your age. But you had not imagined him so - strong, for the lack of a more imaginative word. His shoulders are broad under his wine red tunic, and you can see the muscles in his arms flex as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. From where you stand, you can hardly see any silver in his dark curls.

Marcus unflinchingly assesses you right back. 

No, you are decidedly not demure. Or frightened. Far from it. 

You are defiant, even as you observe him with evident curiosity. Your head held high, a telltale sign of your noble breeding, mouth set in a stern line while your eyes burn bright with a proud fire. 

Judging the silence has gone on long enough, he breaks it with a formal, ‘My lady.’

‘General,’ you answer steadily.

The door slams shut belatedly behind him, and you flinch - the first glimpse of weakness you concede. 

Marcus breathes in, delivering his next sentence with as much composure as he can muster. ‘I expect you have been informed of the - formalities that we are to perform tonight.’

You grind your teeth so hard you are astonished that your jaw doesn’t crack.

Your virtue is just a formality.

Refusing to dignify his question with an answer, you nod once. 

He watches you wordlessly, and you meet his gaze. You thought you would find something else there, not the regret that you see.

Turning away from you, he reaches for the amphora on the table. 

‘Wine?’

‘Yes, please.’

The wine is drunk in silence and moderation. Him at his desk, you perched on the end of the bed.

As you sip, pacing yourself, you observe the general discreetly from across the small distance between you. 

To say that you are disconcerted by his behaviour would be an understatement.

You assumed that he asked for this - for the perverse pursuit of deflowering his son’s bride-to-be while eschewing the unwanted responsibility of a wife. 

Yet, watching him stare pensively into his goblet, lips pursed in a pout that is almost sullen, you are not so certain anymore. 

When you bring your drink to your mouth to find it empty, you clear your throat. ‘I have to wake up early tomorrow morning - for the wedding.’

The general starts before collecting himself, drawing himself up to his full height as he sets down his cup with a heavy clunk. ‘Understandably, my lady.’

Then he moves, charting a course across the room, licking his thumb and index finger to douse the candles dotted around the space.

The thought comes to you unbidden - he has thick fingers. And big hands. 

Your cheeks tingle with heat.

Soon the chamber is cloaked in darkness, save for the candles next to the bed, the warm light pooling in the most inviting manner on the soft surface despite your trepidation. You long to rest your aching feet. 

He comes to a standstill on the other side of the bed, as if waiting for you to take the lead. You cannot decide whether you are thankful for him not imposing on you, or frustrated at him for not taking the lead in what is very much unfamiliar territory.

In the end, the desire to get off your feet wins out, and you gesture at the bed. ‘Shall we…?’

‘Certainly.’ He bends down, you assume to take off his sandals. You do the same, toeing off the soft leather slides the maids had you change into when they dressed you.

Once barefoot, you climb in with as much grace as you can summon, acutely aware that you have an audience. Your knees sink into the mattress, and you’re relieved that it is stuffed with feathers, luxuriously giving under your weight. Shifting primly, you find your back against the headboard, cushioned by equally soft pillows.

The general follows suit, the frame creaking as he eases onto the suddenly too small bed, strong shoulders brushing yours as he settles next to you.

You stare hard at the back of your hands, the only way to stop your gaze from wandering to the span of his fingers splayed wide on sturdy thighs, or lower to the bony ridge of his knees - gods, you must be unwell, since when have you been drawn to knees?

You are still questioning the state of your sanity when the general, who has been nothing but unperturbed and composed since he stepped into the room, stumbles over his words in a manner that is neither, as if he had held the question behind his teeth for too long.

‘Are you - are you absolutely certain - in no doubt - that you are… untouched?’

His question stings like salt in a festering wound. Indignant doesn’t even begin to describe the retort you spit at him. ‘Yes, I am. Are you?’

Peering at you sideways, his eyes widen at your outburst, and fear briefly flits across your heart that you have overstepped.

 But then, he surprises you with a smile. ‘You bite, don’t you?’ 

You let your shoulders sag, too far gone to hold onto your facade. 

‘It’s been a long day, sir,’ you admit. ‘To be frank, I just want to get this over with and forget it ever happened.’

He pauses at your confession, as if weighing his options. Then he shifts, and says, ‘The reason I ask if you were untouched is because, if you were not - we could have just pretended we did this.’

You frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I did not invoke prima nocta, it was imposed upon me. The emperors are displeased that I turned down the betrothal, this is their way of punishing me for my ungratefulness.’ 

Oh.

As much as you didn’t want this either, your pride suffers to hear him describe it as a punishment.

‘I know…’ you stumble, halting to steel yourself. ‘I know I am nothing like the women here in Rome. I spend too much time in the sun, and my hands are rough from working with horses -’

‘Why do you say that?’ he interrupts you.

You look away. ‘That is why you do not wish to marry me, is it not? And why you do not want this - why you do not want me.’

The general sits up, palms on the mattress to support his weight, the lines on his forehead deepening with a frown. ‘No, that is not the reason. You are young, you deserve a husband who can build a life with you in the years to come. Not a washed-up widower.’

The bitterness in his voice turns your head. 

‘You’re not washed up, from what I hear.’ Somehow, you find the courage to add boldly, ‘Or from what I see.’

Letting your eyes trail unabashedly over his broad frame, a thrill chases through your blood when you notice his Adam’s apple bob with a tight swallow. He’s so close that you know you’re not imagining the heat seeping into your bones.

Silence stretches between you, charged with a consciousness that creeps in and spreads. Two souls from different worlds and stations put in a situation in which neither of you had a hand. This may not be how you imagined giving away your virtue - far from it - yet your stomach twists in anticipation.

You glance upwards, only to find him already watching you.

Something has shifted when you so bravely reached out and tipped the balance with your words. He can tell that you are not one for flippant flattery, and it takes him a moment to collect himself, harder said than done with the blood roaring in his ears.

When he speaks, it comes out in a much lower register than he intends, so much so it sounds like a secret. 

‘You say you just want to get this over with. But I can - I can make it good for you. It doesn’t have to be something you want to forget.’

Your eyes widen and your lips part, and heat blooms almost uncomfortably in his chest. ‘You would do that for me?’

‘I will serve you in whatever way you ask of me tonight, my lady.’

Never have mere words, albeit delivered in such a delicious baritone, moved you so. You came in expecting to have your virtue stripped from you, the same way Rome callously stole you away. Where you thought humiliation and dishonour awaited, this man is offering deliverance and devotion - if only for one night.

Your throat tight with emotion, you nod in lieu of a spoken answer.

Marcus is deliberately slow in his movements, wanting you to feel safe in his presence. ‘How much do you know? So I know what I need to teach you.’

Despite yourself, shyness rears its head and you mumble, ‘I’ve - I’ve heard stories. I know what… happens… between a man and a woman in the bed chamber.’

He nods reassuringly, making you feel less of a fool for the juvenile answer you gave. ‘And has anyone touched you before?’

There’s no mistaking the lurch in your stomach as your heart hammers violently. ‘No. No one. Never.’

The protector in him stirs, summoned to duty, warring with the desire that seethes under his skin like the unholy flames of Vesuvius. He fears it is a quickly losing battle. 

Reading the desire in your endearingly open face, Marcus reaches over you to settle one hand on your hip as he leans close, his breath warm on your cheek.

‘Have you ever kissed a man?’ he rasps. 

You shake your head, eyes fixated on his mouth, framed by a tidy moustache. He is so close that you can see his beard is flecked with silver.

You swear the general is leaning into you, and every inch of you is on tenterhooks, enraptured by his proximity -

‘You should save it for your husband.’

You barely forestall the whine of protest that teeters on the tip of your tongue, pinching your lips together, but his lopsided smile tells you that he knows. 

‘I can kiss you elsewhere though.’

‘Oh,’ you inhale shakily when he dips to mouth at the side of your neck, landing on your pulse point in a suckle. Your whole body arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheets, head spinning at all the sensations that are new to you - the burn of his stubble, the cool trail his lips leave behind -

Then the palm on your hip pulls you into him, sprawling you against the wide cage of his body, your breasts pressed against his broad chest. The dress they put you in is thin, and the fabric rubs against your pebbling nipples as his kisses travel daringly low.

‘Am I going too fast?’ he pauses, voice strained.

Breathlessly, you shake your head.

‘If you want me to stop, or wait, you say the word. Understood?’

‘Yes, general.’

Two words he hears daily from his men, and yet from your lips, they unleash a dangerously feral side of him.

More. Is the only coherent thought that remains. 

Impatient hands reposition you so that you are astride him, and he groans when you slot flush in his lap. He watches your eyes widen at what you feel between your legs. Your dress rides up, and his blood rushes south at the bare expanse of your inner thighs on his skin. 

‘I want to see you,’ he speaks plainly, palms squeezing the dip of your waist. ‘May I undress you? Please?’

All decorum flees you, and you might have chanted yes, yes, yes to his question.

Dropping your chin, you watch his thick fingers nimbly undo the knot holding the front of your dress together. The silk capitulates like water, tumbling down in delicate drapes around your waist, baring you to his heated gaze.

‘You are beautiful,’ he declares with a solemnity that steals your breath.

And it is easy to believe him, the way his dazed eyes trail over your breasts, before his hands follow. Calloused palms, which you are sure have held many a sword in triumph, now cup your tender flesh in reverence. 

Your head lolls to the side as he teases you, but when he rolls his hips upwards, your eyes snap to the pained expression on his face. You’ve heard ladies in court whispering over wine about length and girth, but nothing could prepare you for the thrill of feeling a man’s undeniable desire for you.

Instinct guides you, moving your hips so that you are grinding against his length, seeking relief from what is building deep within you.

‘Do what feels good,’ the general murmurs encouragingly, palms on the small of your back to let you take control.

And just like that, you are thrown back to one summer’s day in your youth. You were bathing in a rock pool, under the spray of a waterfall in perfect solitude when you accidentally slipped forwards on the smooth stone surface. The unexpected sensation between your legs ripped through you like lightning on a clear day. And you chased that feeling, hips undulating until you shuddered and cried out. Knees trembling in the aftermath, you never dared to seek it out again, but neither did you forget.

And now, years later, you finally know what had transpired. Pleasure. And this time, under the general’s hooded gaze, you pursue it with single-minded determination.

Marcus wishes you knew how beautiful you are in this very moment. Breasts swaying in tandem while you rock back and forth on his clothed length, eyes glazed, every whimper from your swollen lips making him throb harder for you.

‘Good girl,’ he rasps, throat tight. ‘Take your pleasure. Take what you need.’

And when he sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail, tipping forward at an angle that unexpectedly takes you apart.

The waves that wash over you are more intense than you remember, and you are sure that has to do with the man holding your hips to his as you buck, and the warm swirl of his tongue against your breasts, sucking and nipping as you come down from your high.

‘That was not your first time,’ he states as a matter of fact when the white noise in your ears finally fades.

‘It happened once, a long time ago, and I didn’t understand then -’

‘And now you do.’

‘Yes, general.’

This time, he lets loose a moan at your words. ‘I can feel your wetness through your dress.’

Confused, you look down, and your cheeks burn when you spot the dark patch on the delicate fabric. ‘Oh, I -’

‘It’s natural,’ he assures you. ‘The wetness makes it easier for -’

It dawns on you when you feel his hardness twitch under you. Oh. 

‘It - you feel -’ you stutter, struggling to comprehend how the girth of what you are sitting on could possibly fit inside you.

Taking your hand, Marcus presses a chaste kiss to your palm, eyes warm and open. 

‘We will take it slow. I will use my fingers first, to prepare you for me,’ he explains patiently. ‘I promised I would make it good for you, did I not?’

‘You did.’ 

And you have complete faith in him.

Your knees knock into each other hopelessly when he slides you off his lap, and he has to bodily prop you up against the pillows. Sinking into the soft feathers, you watch him kneel between your parted legs, and you feel so safe even as he towers over you. 

‘May I disrobe you?’

You bite your bottom lip, and nod. 

Except it’s not a disrobing, it’s nothing near as civil as that. The general rips the rest of your dress clean down the middle, rendering you completely bare beneath him.

Marcus knows should be ashamed of his brash behaviour. But how could he when you react so viscerally, jaw slack as your chest heaves in unmitigated desire? 

His gaze shamelessly trail over every curve and dimple, from the breasts he has tasted to where your knees are demurely closed, and knowing that he is the first - the only - to have laid eyes on you makes him impossibly hard. 

It matters not that you are not his to keep. This will always be his. 

‘You are exquisite,’ he professes, voice tight. 

You duck your head, more shy of his compliments than being nude before him. ‘You don’t have to.’

Sliding a finger under your chin and tilting your head until you meet his gaze, he assures you, ‘I mean every word.’

Then he moves down the bed until he can rest his weight on his elbows, and you startle when rough palms glide over the outside of your thighs, stopping at your knees. 

He pauses to give you time. ‘Are you certain you wish to continue?’

Your answer is a confident yes.

Then, as if opening the shell of Venus, he delicately pries your knees apart, and his breath hitches as you are revealed to him.

He is aware that he’s staring like an imbecile, words failing him. As the silence stretches on, you become self-conscious.

‘General,’ you demur, moving to cover yourself.

Shaking his head, he finally says, ‘Forgive me, but you are perfect.’

Then he looks up at you with such intensity that has you struggling to catch your breath, and without breaking eye contact, he bows his head - 

And closes his lips over you there. 

You are wholly unprepared - no one has ever gossiped about this in court. Your hips buck violently off the bed, but Marcus holds you down with reassuring hands, suckling on the pearl between your thighs with gentle laps of his tongue.

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ you stuttter, torn between watching the man wreak the most devastating pleasure on you and averting your gaze.

You’ve only ever known worship to be pious, and yet, this most vulgar adulation is the closest you’ve been to the gods.

His beautiful curls brush the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, catching the candle light as he moves, and the crook of his nose - so proud even with the scar on its bridge - draws patterns on your skin as he stakes his claim where no one has ever touched you. 

You quickly realise that what you felt just now in the general’s lap was insignificant and thin in comparison. This pleasure is all-consuming, something divine that has you weak and trembling all over. All you hear are slick, wet sounds of tongues and lips, and your own whimpers between garbled groans.

Marcus feasts on you, unapologetically. Flattening his tongue, he tastes you in broad sweeps, moaning into your sweet cunt as you writhe above him, your needy mewls driving him to the edge of madness. You taste like fig - the earthiness of the purple peel, ripe sweetness of the pink flesh.

Then your hands wind into his hair, pulling him closer, ankles hooking over his shoulders. He groans harder, the sound rattling in his ribs as you soak his beard. Surrendering any last vestiges of shyness, you rock against his tongue, nails scratching his scalp as you whine louder into the night air. 

Moans that will echo long after you’re gone.

The thought alone hardens his resolve to mark you unequivocally. You’re close, your pliant body quivering and breaths coming in shallow gasps now. He peers up at you, but your eyes are sealed shut and upturned at the gods, your breasts heaving.

Gently, he eases one finger inside you, and he grunts at how easily he slides in. You barely react, and so he pushes back in with two, coaxing a cry from you. Your cunt clenches as he gently thrusts his digits in and out, stretching your tight walls. 

‘Oh gods. Oh gods,’ you pant violently.

You’re close, so close. He wants to warn you of what is to come, but it feels like sacrilege to tarnish the moment with words. When he feels you begin to quiver, he laves at your clit harder, burying his fingers inside you to the knuckle, until he feels you crest and break. 

‘Gods, oh gods - Marcus!’

The cry of his name catches him off guard. He nearly loses control right there and then, as you ride out your high on his fingers, but by some miracle he holds out through gritted teeth. He devotes his attention to kissing his way up your body, from the slick inside of your thighs, to the side of your hip, making you jump when he sucks on your sensitive breasts.

You stare at his mouth with wild, dark eyes, and him at yours, but he vowed to leave your first kiss to your husband. Girding his self-restraint, he asks, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, Marcus.’

His cock twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He wants to hear you say it in all manners of ways - whisper it, gasp it, scream it. And by the cheekiness in your smile, it’s clear that you know what he’s thinking.

Your eyes drop to where his hardness is pressed against you. ‘Will you teach me how to please you, general?’

He swallows a groan, the animal in him rattling the bars of its cage. He replies diplomatically, ‘I will teach you how to teach your husband.’

In one smooth tug, he shucks off his tunic, then his loincloth, and he tries not to be self-conscious under your watchful gaze. Pulling you against him, skin on naked skin, he smears kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at your answering shudder. In return, you run your lips and scrape your teeth over his collarbone. 

Taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, he slides it all the way down his chest and wraps your fingers firmly around his throbbing cock, his pained moan in your ear.

Eyes wide, you marvel at the size of him in your grip. ‘You are so big.’

Marcus curses through clenched teeth. ‘You are an insolent girl.’

With a wicked glint in your eyes, you correct yourself, ‘You are so big, general.’

If he wasn’t so aroused, he would have chuckled at your cheek. Instead, he growls, ‘Such insubordination.’

Tilting your head to one side, you grin. ‘And how would you discipline me, sir?’

He lets the silence linger for a beat, allowing anticipation to build as one big hand splays over your ass, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear. ‘I would deny you my cock, my lady. Let your sweet cunt weep for me, empty, not knowing how good it would feel to have me deep inside you.’

You are unsure if you are more shocked at the explicitness of his words, or at the gush of wetness that has you pressing your thighs together. If you had to wager a guess, he is just as affected as you by the way his length pulses in your grasp.

Marcus smiles as he takes in the way your body reacts to him. ‘But how can I deny such a lovely, desperate creature such as yourself?’

A sob escapes you. ‘Please, Marcus - I’m yours to take.’

With that, all self-restraint abandons him, and his lips crash into yours. At the back of his mind, he knows you deserve a better first kiss, something gentle and sweet. But to your credit, you seem to take it in stride, winding your arms around his neck with a deep groan as he deepens the kiss. Opening up your mouth, he sweeps his tongue against yours, making sure you taste yourself and the pleasure that he had wrung from you.

When he reluctantly pulls back for air, you hum, ‘I thought you said I should save that for my husband.’

He all but snarls, ‘Damn your husband.’

The possessiveness in his tone sends you reeling, and his resolve wears even thinner when your cunt brushes against him, so wet and soft, begging for him. 

‘I cannot wait any longer,’ he declares.

You bite your lip beseechingly. ‘Please, Marcus, I cannot either.’

He braces himself above you on strong arms, until all you can see is him, backlit by the soft candlelight. Beholding his beauty - the wisps of gray at his temples, the scar lining his cheekbone - your breath catches at the tenderness in his eyes as he stares down at you.

Holding the base of his cock, Marcus notches himself at the entrance of your cunt, trembling as he holds himself back. 

‘I will go slow,’ he assures you. ‘If it hurts, you tell me to stop. Understood?’

Your mouth dry, you can only nod. 

Holding your gaze, Marcus rolls his hips ever so slowly, jaw slack when he breaches you, inch by tortuous inch.

He is barely inside you and you already feel so unfathomably full.

‘Marcus,’ you gasp when it gets impossibly tight, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

He stops, and whispers encouragingly, ‘You are doing so well for me, taking me so beautifully. Just breathe.’

In between his patient, languid kisses, you unfurl, and Marcus gently pulls back, before pushing into you, deeper this time.

When you cry out, he shushes you, brushing the wet corners of your eyes with his lips. ‘Does it hurt?’

You shake your head. ‘No, it’s just - so much.’ 

‘I know, I can feel how tight you are gripping me,’ he mumbles into your neck, throbbing inside you while he holds himself still as you adjust. ‘Brave, sweet girl.’

When you find your voice again, you give him cheek. ‘I am a woman now, general.’

He smiles at you - a warm curl that crinkles the corners of his eyes endearingly - and claims your lips again. Feeling the tension seep out of your body, he thrusts shallowly so you can learn the movement of his hips. When he hits a spot that makes your jaw drop and your hips buck, he pulls all the way back, and drives himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

And with that, you become a part of his soul, and his yours. His chest swells with the fiercest possessiveness and the greatest honour all at once, despite knowing that the circumstances that brought you together will inevitably tear you asunder at the break of dawn.

‘Marcus!’ you choke on a sob, throwing your head back, your walls clutching his cock in a merciless grip.

‘There she is,’ he grunts, mouth scraping the shell of your ear. ‘Say my name like that.’

And you do, over and over again, as he fucks into you. His pants land harshly in the crook of your neck with every thrust, hands greedily squeezing all the skin he can find - the curve of your ass, the dimple in your waist, your thigh to hitch it over his hip.

Looking down at you, eyes drunk and unfocused as you stare back at him, each squeeze of your wet cunt around him, every breath from your lips feels sacred.

He is seized by a sudden need to know. ‘How does it feel?’

Your eyes soften, and he shudders when you cup the side of his face to bring his nose to yours. ‘Divine.’

Marcus loses himself in you, in the wet squelch of your cunt around his length, the way your tightness takes every thrust. Words of praise that he doesn’t even hear tumble from his lips and onto every inch of skin he can reach as you cling to him, scraping your nails down his back and digging into the meat of his ass.

Pitching forward to press a hard kiss to you, he says, ‘I want you to fall apart for me again.’

‘Please, Marcus, please.’

Pushing himself up to his knees, still buried deep inside you, he spreads your thighs obscenely wide over his hips, and he moans at the sight of your cunt so full of him. With hooded eyes, he sucks on two of his thick fingers and brings them between your legs, carefully drawing circles on your clit, knowing that you are already sensitive from cumming twice for him before.

Your face twists in agony as he builds you towards another climax, patiently weaving the web of pleasure that wounds you tighter and tighter until your spine feels like it will snap in two. ‘Marcus, oh - don’t stop, don’t stop, oh gods -’

He bares his teeth as he feels you start to clench around him. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Cum on my cock, let me feel you, give it to me.’ 

Your peak crashes into you relentlessly, and as you are swept away, you can only wail and thrash, while Marcus curses and stutters unintelligibly above you as he spins out of control.

He had every intention to pull out, but it is as if some higher power is determined to foil his plans. With a guttural roar, his hips snap flush against yours, big palms grasp you so hard by the waist that you squeal, and he spills into you in hot gushes, once - twice - and again until he is spent.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He doesn’t know if he said that aloud or if it was a trick of the mind. All he knows is that he eventually collapses bonelessly onto you, skin fused together with sweat and cum as your breaths become one in the crisp night air.

It is him who breaks the stillness, his old bones creaking when he stirs to relieve an ache in his back. His softened cock slides out of you, prompting you to whine in protest. He grunts when he looks down to see his cum dribble out of your cunt, leaving a pearly trail on the inside of your thighs.

When he meets your eyes, there is no awkwardness in the silence. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to spill my seed inside you. That was reckless.’

Your heart skips a beat at his admission, and you can’t hide the pride in your voice. ‘Do I make you reckless, general?’

He tries and fails to be stern in his answer, the tenderness with which he brushes his nose on your cheek giving him away. ‘I know better than to encourage your insolence with an answer.’

You are far from discouraged though, quite the opposite. Knowing you have this man - who commands armies of thousands - at your mercy is a siren’s call.

Peering at him from under your eyelashes, you curl one leg around his waist. ‘Do you want to be reckless again?’

He huffs, but a smile breaks through. ‘Have you ever been told that you are a cocktease?’

You hum teasingly. ‘I have never heard that word before, but I like it.’

‘You do?’ he breathes against your lips. ‘You like being my cocktease?’

‘Yours, general.’

Marcus is astounded when he feels himself harden again, and he moans as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck. ‘What spell have you cast on this old man, my little cocktease?’

You grin, letting him ease you onto your back so he can settle between your thighs again. ‘The kind that lasts until dawn.’

Eventually, morning must break, sure as the moon turns and the sun rises. In the golden rays of day, you will wed his son in ironic, virginal white, showered in rose petals. He will look on from the side in his finest ceremonial robes of red, as you walk away from him and into your new life as someone else’s wife.

But in the velvety folds of this night and many more to come, safely ensconced in the deepest corners of his memories, in lands far away, in war and in peace, there he keeps you - where you are not.

More notes: Thank you for reading! As usual, comments/reblogs/asks would be very much appreciated 🥰 I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I loved writing it!

[stanfordsweater]

#god! the validation! #i'm gonna quote the coleman cooler account here -- #'the show ends narratively with Dean being told in no uncertain terms that his presence was wanted' #'that who he is was entirely enough.' #i think that's really it #that even if he died (as we all have to eventually) #even if sam had to live without him #we return in the end to what matters: #the two of them against the world #and at the end of the world #still together #it's so kind as a continuation of all that went before #that it was right and that they made that choice and are still making it ( @zmediaoutlet ) ( @thegreencooler bluesky post )

—Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait in Letters

[starkeysprincess]

kissing u for giving me this idea cause I love frat daddy as stepbro!rafe! what if reader is 18 but in her last year of high school (I know even with age of majority that’s still kinda icky but it’s the only way this scenario would work🫣) so when rafe’s away for his first year at college before the events of s1, she knows it’s wrong but she’s always worried and jealous of what he could be doing there or what other girls he could be seeing, especially when she sees his and his frat brothers’ instagram pictures. he doesn’t always get back to her texts or calls, and even though she has needs too, she feels guilty for hooking up with any of her friends or trying to date to distract herself. so when he comes home for the holidays, she’s all mad at him and pushes him away and they get all angsty and he apologizes because you were always willing to wait for him and his approval and with him being as nasty as he is he has to remind you that you come first because “you’re my sister”🫠✨

— stepbro!rafe is away for his first year at college

warnings: stepcest, reader is 18 + rafe is 19, indent is a flashback, jealous!reader, mention of hooking up w jj, choking, hair pulling, spanking, mirror sex, degrading, praise, gagging, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, 18+ mdni !

a/n: i hope it's ok that i tweaked a few things such as rafe apologizing & reader graduated high school but doesn’t go to college cause she isn't sure what she wants to do!

“gonna miss you,” you frown into your stepbrother’s chest, hugging him tightly. he rested his chin on the top of your head, “i’ll miss you too, but hey, i’ll be home for the holidays, and i’m only a phone call away. you could call me or text me anytime, i’ll make sure to get back to you when i can, alright?”.

when rafe left for college, he responded to you when he could, just like he said he would. talking to him nearly every day almost made it feel like he wasn’t hours away from home. however, a month passed, and you started to hear less from him until your calls and texts were unanswered. at first, you assumed you weren’t hearing from him because of how busy he may have been with classes, and it wasn’t until you came across instagram posts from him and his fraternity brothers that he was too busy partying to get back to you.

it was his first year at college, and you knew you shouldn’t be upset; you had no right to be. especially when it was the only time he had freedom away from home, specifically from ward. it didn't stop you from missing rafe; you couldn’t help but think about what else he could be doing, and no matter how much you tried, knowing it was wrong, your mind started to wander over who he could be with.

when two more months had passed and still no communication from rafe, you sought out a distraction through jj maybank, who was unknowingly helping you take your mind off your stepbrother. the more time you had spent with jj, the less you thought about rafe and the promise of not running to anyone that wasn't him.

the promise you made was pushed into the back of your mind until one night, as you were about to sneak out of the house to see the blonde pogue, you received an incoming call from rafe. you could feel the guilt consuming you the longer you stared at his name, itching to answer. but your bitterness got the best of you, your finger tapping 'decline' before quietly leaving your house, not knowing rafe was calling to tell you he'd be home for the holiday.

a week later and yet another late night with jj, you tip-toed up the stairs, ensuring not to wake anyone up. just as you were about to reach your bedroom, you froze in your spot, looking like a deer in headlights, when the door to the room across from yours swung open. "sneaking back in?", his hand encircled your wrist, pulling you into his room and shutting the door behind you. “rafe, what are you doing here?” your brows furrow, more than confused as to why he was home.

“missed you, princess," his hands slid up your waist, walking you back until your lower back pressed against his dresser, "if you had answered when i called, you would’ve known i was coming home for the holidays.”.

your palms pressed at his firm chest, pushing him away when he started peppering kisses along your jaw. "what? what's wrong?" rafe asks, "don’t tell me you’re upset cause i made you promise not to go to anyone else while i was away on campus.”.

“i can't be upset over that when i’ve been seeing jj,” the words rolled off your tongue with ease, “i don't know why it matters anyway when you've been ignoring me for the past few months, probably too busy sleeping around with sorority girls every weekend”.

rafe’s nostrils flared the second jj's name slipped from your mouth, “what did you just say?” he gritted his teeth, removing his hand from your waist to grab your throat. “what?” you bat your eyes innocently, “don't act all innocent, you've been fucking around with maybank, huh?”.

"what happened to being my good girl? guess your poor, needy little pussy couldn't handle being empty for a few months, hm?" rafe snickered, "and now you wanna push me away all 'cause i've been too busy?".

your mouth gaped open to speak, only for him to cut you off, "is that why you're pushing me away, acting like you didn't miss me and your panties aren't soaking wet right now? ".

rafe spun you around to face the mirror of his dresser, bending you over. his large, warm hands slip under your skirt, pushing the article of clothing around your waist. his fingers hooked into the elastic of your panties, pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "step out of them," he ordered, delivering a sharp smack to the fat of your ass; when you didn't oblige, "don't make me tell you twice.".

rafe bent down, grabbing your panties before standing back up. his hand reached around, cupping your jaw, your lips parting when his fingers dug into your skin as he squeezed your cheeks. rafe shoved the silk material into your mouth and his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "you want an apology? fine, here's your apology.".

his free hand dipped between your legs, chuckling as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. “i’m sorry, princess…” he cooed, extending his thumb to rub circles to your clit, pulling a soft moan from you.

a desperate whine bubbled in your throat at the loss of friction on your puffy clit, your heart racing in anticipation at the sound of fabric rustling behind you. rafe nudged your thighs further apart with his knee, slotting himself between your legs. his palm rested on the small of your back as you squirmed under him, feeling the thick head of his cock sliding up and down your folds.

he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to make you look at him in the reflection, watching your eyes roll back as his thick cock stretches you deliciously, “sorry that my poor girl was so fuckin’ needy to the point she had to run to a pogue of all people.”.

“shit…missed being buried deep in this sweet cunt,” rafe groaned, "guess i gotta ruin this tight little hole; make sure you don't go runnin' back to jj, huh?" he taunted, slowly pulling back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you.

"don't worry, by the time i'm done with you, all that pretty little head and pussy is gonna think about is how much she missed and ached for my dick," rafe sucked his teeth, your body jolting forward, biting down on the pair of panties stuffed in your mouth as he slammed himself back into your willing cunt.

your hands grip the top of his dresser, eyes barely staying open. a loud, muffled yelp forces its way through the flimsy silk fabric stuffed in your mouth when rafe harshly tugged at the roots of your hair, "did i say you could close your eyes? keep 'em open, want you to watch me fuck you like the needy little cockwhore you are.".

rafe removed his hand from your hair, snaking it around your throat to hold your head upright. he buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave bruises on your flesh. he leaned forward, putting all his weight onto you and pressing his chest to your back, "this s'all you wanted, yeah? just wanted to be stuffed full of my cock again?".

drool soaked through the silk as his cock pounded into you relentlessly. you grabbed onto his arm, struggling to keep your eyes open, and your nails bite into his skin as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits your cervix. rafe’s eyes flicker to look at the two of you in the mirror, “look at how pretty you look takin’ my dick,” he praises.

“came way too many fuckin’ times to the thought of you…been craving feeling your pussy around my cock again since the day i left,” rafe rasped. “especially feeling you cum all over my cock,” he groaned as he felt your walls flutter around him.

“c’mon, princess, cream all over my cock and make a mess like you used to,” he nipped your ear, holding you steady as your legs trembled. your pussy convulses around him, his hand clamping around your mouth to further muffle your cry of pleasure as you cum all over his thick cock.

your orgasm triggers rafe’s, his hips slowly pumping into yours as they become sloppy. he gives you one more harsh thrust, his hips stilling, pushing his cock deep inside you, and letting out a moan as thick ropes of cum spill into you, painting your walls white.

rafe removes your panties from your mouth, your chest heaving, small pants filling the room. your breath hitches in your throat when his hips slowly rolled into yours, “how’s that for an apology? or you still need some convincing?”.

taglist: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @bloodibambiidoll @fallbhind @sematarygirls @nemesyaaa @ilovefiction4lmen @zyafics @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @cxrrodedcoffin @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesthroatbaby @jjslaybank @kisses4angels @littlelamy @rafesangelita @starkeygirlposts @drewsarms @hallecarey1 @fallrafwe @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @wearemadeofstardust0 @honeybunniesoobin @starkeysbebe @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starkeysheart @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @flvredcas @emilysuperswag @proxy-princess @hyperfixationgirl @ijustwanttoreadlols @slumnit @cl4uus @coco-cinnamon @stoned-writer

[bloatedandalone04]

My Drug is My Baby

➪the one where you and rafe can’t keep your hands off each other during your honeymoon.

Warnings: kook rafe/pogue reader, swearing, fluff (barely), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public smut, slight exhibition kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, size difference/kink, cock warming i think, spanking (whoops), rafe’s an ass man, i said what i said, he’s also a dom, bc obviously. (all i’ve been thinking about lately is rafe, so i’m doing something about it, yw).

Word Count: 2.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Rafe never thought he’d be one to get his life in order or find a nice girl to settle down with and get married to, but here he is in a stunning (and very expensive) resort in Florida with you by his side. 

Wrapped around your finger were two rings, one holding a large, heavy diamond, and the other being a simple wedding band. ‘Simple’, yet it was embedded with smaller diamonds. 

Around Rafe’s finger was a gold band that showed every girl at this resort who gave him the ‘fuck me’ eyes how committed he is to you and only you, and how they could waste their time all they want. He’d be a fucking idiot to ever let you go. 

It was kind of crazy to think that less than a year ago, you were just another Pogue and he was a Kook who vowed to never do more than sleep with someone who was much less privileged than he was, but now he is married to you. Really, the standards of the society pretty much flew right out the window the second he saw you. 

You were drop dead gorgeous, the most beautiful girl Rafe had ever seen. And though his friends told him to not waste his time with someone like you, Rafe was really fucking glad that he promptly ignored them and got you to go on a date with him, because less than four months after that date, you were engaged, and only five months later, you were married. 

And now you were on your honeymoon and even more clingy and touchy than ever. Rafe never thought of himself as a very touchy person, but with you, he wanted to touch you all the time. Holding your hand in stores or on the street, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind when standing in lines, having his arm draped around your shoulders while sitting on the couch, or placing his hand on your thigh while in a car. 

Right now, he was leaning back on a pool lounger with you in his arms, your back pressed against his bare chest as his fingers traced random shapes onto the skin of your stomach. For some reason, ever since that first date, Rafe couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. You were so much smaller than him, but you fit perfectly against him, he couldn’t help but want to touch you everywhere all the time. 

He had fallen so in love with you in so little time, he wasn’t sure if the honeymoon phase would ever end. And honestly, he didn’t want it to.

The sun was beating down on the both of you, but the breeze from the empty, still pool helped keep you from overheating. You sighed quietly, leaning more against him as you closed your eyes, the sun still very bright even through your sunglasses. “It’s so pretty here, Rae,” you mumbled, turning your head to place a soft kiss to his heated skin. “Makes me want to never leave. I want to stay right here, with you, for the rest of my life.”

That sounded amazing to Rafe, and he wouldn’t mind starting every morning exactly like this for the next week. He’d gone all out on both the wedding and the honeymoon, spending a pretty penny on them to ensure you’d have the best experience during both events. The room you were staying in was huge, and it has a huge bed that Rafe had fucked you in for a solid hour on your first night here.

He couldn’t help it and he couldn’t be blamed. You were his wife now. You were all his.  

Rafe laughed, the deep sound vibrating your back as his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “I’d be more than willing to stay right here if you want to spend the rest of your life on top of me,” he teased, his fingers dipping lower to brush against the inside of your thigh. “We’ve got a whole week ahead of us, baby. A week of doing nothing but this all day. And you’re looking really fucking hot right now.” His other hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple through the thin fabric of your bikini top as his lips found your pulse point and kissed it gently. 

“Rae,” you laughed quietly, pressing your thighs together as you leaned back against him more firmly, your sunglasses sliding down your nose until you just decided to take them off. “We’re in public…you can’t say that to me.” Your words were a feeble attempt at teasing him, because he had rented the room that came with the private pool and patio. No one was around to hear you, let alone see you. 

Rafe smirked, licking and sucking at your neck before he lifted his head, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can say whatever the fuck I want to my wife,” he murmured into your ear, his hand sliding back up your thigh until his fingers grazed the edge of your bikini bottoms. His teeth gently tugged at your earlobe as his hand slid beneath the red fabric, his lips curving when he heard your sharp inhale. “Are you forgetting that this place belongs to us for the next eight days? No one’s around to see my pretty girl get all needy for me.”

“Rafe,” you whined, biting down on your lip as you arched your back and subtly spread your thighs a bit wider. You turned your head again and pressed your face against the side of his neck, brushing soft kisses along his skin. “God, you’re so hot, baby.”

Rafe groaned, his cock starting to harden as his fingers slid through your slick folds. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, his middle finger dipping inside your wet heat before he pulled it back out and brought it up to his lips for a taste. “So fucking good, baby.”

He leaned in and kissed you deeply as his hands gripped your hips, turning you on his lap so you’re properly straddling him. Slowly, he guided you to grind against him, the outline of his cock evident through the dark fabric of his trunks. 

“Ride me, pretty girl,” he rasped against your mouth, his fingers playing with the thin strings of your bikini on either side of your hips. One pull, and your lower half would be bare, and the thought was becoming more and more appealing to him the longer you moved on top of him. 

“Like this?” You asked, already breathless as you caressed his face in your hands, your clothed pussy rubbing against his cock through the fabric of his shorts. 

Rafe groaned, tipping his head back on the chair. “Exactly like that, baby,” he muttered, his hands gripping your ass as he guided you to move a bit faster. “Just like that.”

The rough fabric of his swimming trunks brushed deliciously against your clit, making you moan a bit louder and brace your hands on his shoulders for more support. 

You were so hot, Rafe couldn’t believe that you were all his. The sexy, shameless woman riding his lap in public was all his. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, leaning up and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against yours, one of his hands tangling in your hair as he bucked up against you. He broke the kiss, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he grunted, “I need to be inside you, baby. Right now.” 

With that, he wrapped his arms under your thighs and lifted you as he stood up, carrying you towards the sliding doors that lead back into the suite. You squealed, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you peppered kisses along his neck. “You love me so much,” you teased, nuzzling your nose behind his ear as he slid the door closed behind him, not bothering to close the curtains as he walked over to the bed and pulled at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. 

“Yeah, I fucking do,” he agreed, giving your ass a firm squeeze before tossing you onto the king sized bed. You bounced a bit as you tried to steady yourself, a needy whine of excitement leaving your lips.  “Get on your knees for me, baby.”

When you quickly turned around and braced yourself up on your hands and knees, Rafe stepped towards the bed, one of his hands running along the length of your spine. His other hand came down onto your ass, giving it a sharp smack that made a loud moan slip past your lips. 

God, you were so fucking sexy and so perfect for him, Rafe would never get enough. “That’s for getting me so addicted to you,” he mumbled before pulling at the strings of his shorts and pushing them down his legs. He propped one knee up on the bed next to yours, keeping one foot planted firmly on the floor as gripped your waist. “You’re so perfect, aren’t you? My perfect girl.” 

Rafe gripped the base of his cock with one hand, running his length along your wet folds before bumping his tip against your clit a few times. “Rae,” you whined, clearly getting more and more riled up from his teasing. 

He smirked before guiding himself inside you, your soaked walls making him slide in with ease. Rafe groaned, his teeth sinking into his lip as he refrained from railing you like he wanted to. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, his palm soothing your reddening skin from his previous smack. 

When he pulled back nearly all the way and then slid right back in, you let out a loud moan, your hands fisting the sheets of the unmade bed. “Fuck,” you whimpered, your head falling forward as he began to slowly fuck you from behind. 

“That’s it, baby,” Rafe grunted, moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts as he pulled at the string of your top, making the fabric hang loosely from your neck before you tugged it off and tossed it aside carelessly. 

He leaned down and pushed your hair to the side so he could press open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, one of his hands reaching around to squeeze your breast. His grip on your waist tightened as he increased the pace, the soft slap of skin on skin filling the room as he began to pound into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet and tight for me,” he panted, leaning over you as he changed the angle just slightly. Your moans grew louder, your arms shaking a bit as his cock reached even deeper inside you, making his lips turn upwards in a smug smirk. “You like that, pretty girl? You love being stuffed full of me, don’t you?”

Rafe’s mouth was filthy both in and out of the bedroom, something he knew you loved, and that was very obvious from the way you clenched around him and got even louder. “Yes,” you answered, your body jolting forward with every deep thrust. “Fuck…yes.”

It was hard to believe that ten minutes ago, you were simply in his arms by the pool, and now here you are, on your hands and knees for him as he railed you from behind, your body completely bare for his greedy eyes and hands. His perfect little wife.

“Fuck, listen to those pretty noises you’re making,” he grunted, his hand gripping your waist tightly as he guided you back onto his cock. You were so tight, he could literally see the way your walls hugged him and took him in so deep every time he entered you, and the sight had his abs tensing as he groaned loudly. His free hand slid up your back until he had a fistful of your hair, and he tugged your head back just enough for you to feel it but not hard enough to hurt you. 

The bed, though sturdy, clearly wasn’t prepared for the rough fucking Rafe planned to give you every day for the next week since it creaked with every thrust, and he briefly wondered just how many honeymoon’s this suite had seen, and how many horny newly-weds this bed had fallen victim to. 

One thing he knew for sure was that you were the prettiest bride that had ever and will ever stay in this room, and he was one lucky fucker. 

When he gave your hair a sharp tug, you let out a whiny moan and clenched around him again, and Rafe knew you were close. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me, baby,” he rasped, speeding up even more until you were mumbling and moaning incoherently as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. He kissed all over the side of your neck and face as you came on his cock, his grip on your hair loosening as he fucked you through your high. 

“Rae,” you whimpered, shaking in his arms as you relied solely on him to keep you upright. 

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw as he slowed his pace, his own high creeping up on him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, baby. You feel too good.” 

Your face turned a faint shade of pink as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, your arm lifting up as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Cum for me, Rafe,” you encouraged weakly, nearly limp in his arms as you trembled from the sensitivity. 

His hand groped your breast, his thumb and index finger gently pinching your nipple as he buried himself as deep as physically possible and emptied himself inside you. “Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his face against the side of your neck as his hips jerked and stuttered, his cock filling you up with ropes of white. 

Once you had drained him of every drop, Rafe’s hand released your breast as his arm wrapped around your middle, slowly guiding you back on the bed as he leaned over you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby. I love you so fucking much, more than anything,” he mumbled, peppering your sweaty shoulder in kisses as he carefully rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so he was holding you from behind. “Stay just like this…I don’t wanna pull out yet.”

His words were slurred as his body still thrummed with the aftershocks, his big hand splayed across your stomach as he nuzzled his face against your neck. You hummed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. “Then stay inside me,” you mumbled, “We’ll stay like this for as long as you want to.” 

Rafe grinned lazily, holding you close to him. “I’m gonna hold you like this forever,” he said, his voice muffled against your neck as his thumb stroked along your stomach. “Never letting you go.”

Even though it was just past noon, you both had grown rather tired from that intense workout you just got finished doing. A quick nap sounded fucking amazing right now, especially if he got to stay connected with you and have your body wrapped up in his arms the whole time. 

This was heaven, Rafe decided, and he never wanted to go a single day without you ever again. 

And luckily, he would never have to.

[barcaatthemoon]

fireball || alexia putellas x reader ||

Alexia learns firsthand why you don't drink often.

The shots that many bars in vacation areas gave were much bigger than the shots that you wereused to. Alexia had warned you of this several times, and yet, you still hadn't slowed down one bit. The two of you were still in Barcelona for the night, but she had indulged you in letting the two of you go to one of the places only tourists sought out. It was a bit gimmicky and most of the staff spoke primarily English. Alexia hated it, but you absolutely loved it.

"Ale, come dance with me!" Alexia stared at you skeptically. You could barely stand up straight, having nearly fallen twice as you tried to get another drink at the bar.

"One dance, and then we have to go amor," Alexia told you. You nodded, more than happy to leave with Alexia. However, you didn't realize that Alexia wasn't taking you home for the reasons that you wanted her to. She needed to get you in a bed for some sleep, but you could feel a subtle hum in between your legs as Alexia held you for the dance.

You tried and failed to dance on Alexia to seduce her, instead managing to nearly fall onto the ground. Alexia caught you and simply carried you out of the club. You would have normally protested, but you were more than enjoying the view of Alexia's ass as she carried you over her shoulder.

"You're so strong. Will you hold me up against the wall and fuck me?" you asked her. Alexia's jaw dropped at how nonchalantly you asked her that. You were definitely the bashful one in your relationship, often trying to bat Alexia away when she started kissing you in public. For you to just say that on a busy night street where anybody could hear was a sign that Alexia should have made you stop drinking an hour ago.

"Amor, you are very drunk. I would not feel right taking advantage of you in this state," Alexia told you as she helped you into the car. You whined and pouted, nearly on the verge of tears as you mumbled incoherently. Alexia sighed as she realized just how long of a night she was in with you. It wasn't often that you even drank a glass of wine with dinner, much less got drunk. She had learned on a trip with your national team that you were a legendary drunk, hundreds of stories coming from just a couple handfuls of nights.

Alexia thanks whatever powers in the universe she needed to that you willingly let her carry you inside. You seemed eager to get out of the car, and you managed to make the ride without getting sick. Alexia knew that it was only a matter of time, most of the alcohol you had been drinking was cheap and full of sugar. Still, you had enjoyed yourself, and that was the whole point of tonight. Alexia had given you the green light to do whatever you wanted, promising that she'd stay sober to take care of you.

"Ale, now that we're home, we can do shots!" you cheered. You made a beeline for the kitchen, but Alexia stopped you. She held onto your waist as she guided you to the couch to sit down.

"Wait here, I'll be right back," Alexia told you. You pouted, but sat there anyway. She grabbed a couple of snacks that she knew you liked whenever you'd been drinking and a bottle of water. It was a struggle to get you to drink the water, claiming that it would completely ruin your buzz.

"I can't believe that Alexia Putellas has regular chips. You always get on me for snacks," you pouted. Alexia sighed, not having the heart to tell you that she kept those around for you. You stayed on top of your fitness better than anybody Alexia had ever met, so she didn't see the harm in keeping a couple of little snacks for you around at her place. It had been early in your relationship when she asked if your snacks were approved by the nutritionist, long before she knew how hard you really worked.

"Maybe you're a bad influence," Alexia teased. That seemed to be the wrong move as your eyes began to well up with tears. Alexia quickly backtracked, but as she continued to talk, Alexia noticed that your attention was elsewhere. "Amor, you aren't getting sick are you?"

"I don't like this," you said as you pulled your top off. Alexia quickly covered her eyes, despite having openly stared as you got dressed earlier that day.

"Why are you undressing?" Alexia asked, slightly panicked.

"Because it's hot. And I'm hot. God, it's almost the winter, and I am baking Ale!" you exclaimed. Alexia rolled her eyes as she dropped her hand, unsurprised to see every bit of your clothing on the ground. "Let's go to bed."

"Are you just going to sleep naked?" You nodded as you stumbled your way towards Alexia's bedroom. Alexia followed you in and watched as you fumbled your way through your nighttime routine. Alexia tried to help where she could, but you were stubborn about doing it yourself. Alexia went through her own routine and found you asleep in bed by the time that she was halfway through the second step.

[whetstonefires]

I have been allowed to nap in public libraries in American small towns, where they aren't worried about encouraging homeless people because it's even harder to survive homeless in a small town than in the city, especially in the modern day with way less rural train lines to stow away on and the abolishment of hitchhiking as a cultural practice, so there aren't any.

(Or if there are they live in their cars, stop in only briefly, and are very good at not giving themselves away.)

However when I was fourteen and had unwisely done my scheduled volunteer hours at a museum in the nearby city while suffering from a fever, I curled up on a bench in the museum and napped while waiting for my mom to finish work and take me home, and was awoken by two security guards asking each other in consternation, 'what do we do? do we wake him up?' because I was curled up and wearing a bulky groddy leather jacket, so they thought i was a homeless adult man.

Their faces when i sat up and turned out to be a flushed girlchild who was clearly housed and just had shit taste in coats were remarkable. They still told me to get out of the museum if i couldn't stay awake due to being ill.

Just watched a librarian yell at a guy for sleeping in a chair

Apparently its against the rules to sleep in a library

Like sorry you have comfy cozy chairs out??? Also homeboy wasn’t snoring or anything like it wasn’t even disruptive sleeping what the fuck

[imsobadatnicknames2]

ok but i need the evrart claire essay

Okay just be warned that this is gonna be less of an "essay" and more of a loose collection of thoughts, and I don't know how fresh or novel any of these ideas are going to be when it pertains to popular Disco Elysium fan discourse because I don't really do fandom, you know?

Anyway, I think the most obvious factet of Evrart's character is how he very intentionally calls to mind a caricature of corrupt union leaders, the image of a sleazy mobster who only cares about his own personal gain but pays lip service to leftist politics and pretends to care about the interests of workers as a way to obtain and maintain his power. And I think a lot of people straightforwardly read him as such, because that's the way he carries himself and the type of character the game is riffing on. There's also the question of how much of Evrart's manipulative, duplicitous attitude is just how he normally acts and how much of it is him specifically acting that way towards Harry and Kim specifically, it's important to have in mind that your main character is a cop and that would definitely play a role in making Evrart go out of his way to be a bit more of a bastard and toy with you a bit before he decides to actually do anything helpful.

However, once you dig a little deeper into his characterization, it becomes clear that he's pulling a very interesting double bluff, because it becomes apparent that the shady mobster who only cares about his personal gain is an act he's putting on. He's very self-aware about the fact that he's playing the villain, he seems to actively revel in it, but ultimately, it seems like he does it because playing the villain is the way he gets shit done.

This is not to say he's not actually corrupt, or that he's not ALSO involved in all sorts of shady stuff and taking advantage of his position of power, but the game does make it apparent that on some level he DOES have the interests of the people of Martinaise at heart.

For example, it is textually stated that the harbor doesn't need a night watchman, and Evrart created the position specifically to provide a source of income for René. He knows the pension Rene gets is not enough for him to live on, but he's also aware that René is the sort of right-wing guy who would rather starve to death than take a handout (especially from those dirty union commies), so Evrart created a job position which pretty much involves doing nothing for a few hours every night so he could help him with his economic troubles in a way he wouldn't refuse out of principle. René hates his guts, ideologically stands against everything his organization represents, and is generally an unlikeable asshole and a fascist prick, but he's also a disadvantaged member of the community and that seems to matter more.

Even when he asks you to get the signatures to build the community center, which is definitely one of the most morally questionable things he does during the events of the game (as it will improve the community, but at the same time displace the people from the fishing village), his intentions seem to be ultimately good. Due to the very nature of his character and the act he puts on, it's purposefully hard to tell when he's being sincere and when he's being manipulative. However, if Harry's drama and empathy skills are high enough when he's confronted about it, you'll be able to tell that he's not lying about his motives for wanting to build a community center or about the fact that he intends to provide better housing for the people displaced by the project, and that he feels genuine rage about their current living conditions. It can still be said that he's ignoring their self-determination and essentially forcing these people out of their current homes, but he does seem to have good intentions and think he's doing a good thing for them in the long run, even if his methods are morally questionable at best.

In that way, the Union is an extension of him in this regard too. They're pretty unapologetic about the fact that they're openly operating as a crime syndicate, but the game doesn't give you any reasons to believe they're lying when they say they're doing it as a way to muslce out all the more dangerous gangs and crime organizations out of Martinaise, or that their involvement in the drug trade is at least partially motivated by a desire to make sure it's not controlled by more dangerous and violent crime organizations. Again, they're playing the villain as a way to fill that power vacuum and make sure more dangerous people don't fill that role (but of course, that doesn't erase the fact that, noble as their intentions may be, they're still involved in all these shady activities and turning a pretty substantial profit from them too)

Of course, on the other hand, just because the game seems to hint at the fact that Evrart and the Union are, deep down, a force for good, doesn't erase the fact that he's done plenty of bad shit to further his interests, and the game doesn't shy away from this. He's still extremely corrupt, his long-term plan to wrestle control of the harbor away from the company and turn it into a worker-owned operation (which *would* massively improve the material conditions of the dockworkers if succesful) involves endangering the lives of a lot of his own workers, he and his brother Edgar pass the position of union foreman back and forth between each other to circumvent the term limit and keep themselves in power indefinitely, and if you explore all dialogue options with the Deserter it's all but explicitly stated that they rose to power by getting him to assassinate the previous Union forewoman.

These are things that Evrart himself would probably rationalize as sacrifices that need to be made for the greater good. After all, it is implied that the previous union forewoman was also corrupt, except in favor of the company's interests, and might have even been a company plant. However, this doesn't make those things morally right. Good intentions nonwithstanding, it's clear that the Claire brothers are very "the ends justify the means" kind of people, they probably see getting the previous Union leader killed or endangering the lives of the dockworkers to overthrow the company that exploits them as "pulling the lever" in the trolley problem, which is extremely callous at best.

Here's where we get a little more into "disjointed thoughts" territory, but Evrart can also be seen as a critique of the limits of trade unionism and social democrat politics. Something that I completely missed in my first playthrough but was able to catch on during my second is that the people of the fishing village refuse to unionize, and as a result they don't get the same level of support and protection that the union provides to the people of the more urban section of Martinaise. This is apparently widely known enough for characters other than Evrart to comment on (I forget what character I learned this from, but it was definitely not Evrart). So it's clear that Evrart and the Union put their interests of the members of their own organization over those of other working class people, which is one criticism that can be leveraged against the way a lot of leftists seem to treat unions as the ultimate tool for worker class liberation.

Similarly, when Evrart tells you his long-term plans, it's clear that his ultimate goals don't involve complete worker liberation. As far as the game shows, he's a socdem who's still looking to work within the confines of capitalism. There are more radically left wing characters in Disco Elysium, but Evrart is the only one with any actual power to affect change, which kinda speaks to the lack of presence of more hardline leftist positions in mainstream politics. As someone living in Latin America, I kinda ended up seeing a bit of a lot of our currrent socdem politicians in him in that respect, I guess, but i'd need more time to articulate this thought properly, I guess.

Ultimately, I think Evrart is an amazingly crafted character. He evokes a well-known archetype of a shady, corrupt, power-hungry union leader, but he adds a lot of depth, self-awareness, and nuance to it and subverts that characterization in several ways. I think he atually serves an important role of ideologically challenging players who share the developers' and writers' political leanings. I think it would have been very self-congratulatory and autocomplacent to make the most influential leftist character in the game an unambiguously good paragon of workers' rights and working class liberation. By instead giving us someone who's an absolute callous bastard who definitely has a bit of blood on his hands, who's a socdem at best and a self-serving mob boss at worst, but can ultimately be interpreted as a force for good, and asking the players to decide what they think of him I think it brings interesting questions to the table of our commitment to material gains, what sorts of people we're willing to work with, and the sort of acts we're willing to tolerate, and makes the game a lot more thematically rich.

I also think a good analysis of Evrart is incomplete without an analysis of the ways in which he serves a a charater foil for Joyce, but I don't feel like getting into that rn.

[spatialwave]

Hello my love. It’s my 24th birthday today and only one of my friends remembered so I was hoping for a lil pick me up.

How about ~

luring your lover back to bed with kisses & kisses while sitting in your lovers lap

With our dear Viktor?

I love your work 🥹🤎

OH MY GOODNESS! Happiest of birthdays to you, love!!! I’m so sorry that you’re feeling down on your special day. I hope this adds a bit of sparkle to your mood! ❤️

pairing: viktor x gender-neutral!reader word count: 712 tags: mdni! sfw, fluffy, kissing, super sweet, viktor is a bad boyfriend but makes it up to you, takes place between s1 act 1 and act 2. notes: ask came from this prompt!

“You’re working too hard,” you pouted, talking through a hard candy that rolled around your tongue–sucked on long enough that you could bite into it and swallow down the sweet strawberry flavour. You sat atop Viktor’s desk as he studied one of the hextech crystals. The rigid orb rolling between his fingers.

It was the early days of their research, and he had taken a steep nosedive into the work, allowing it to consume him. So much that you hadn’t had so much as a kiss from him in days. 

“Not hard enough,” he retorted, sighing as he placed the crystal carefully onto velvet fabric to keep it stable. The last thing he needed was to replicate the explosion that had destroyed Jayce’s apartment.

He looked back down to a tome he borrowed from Jayce, fingers brushing against the paper as he read over histories of runes. Yet again, ignoring you.

“Do you know that it’s been exactly sixty-two hours since you last kissed me, and thirteen hours since you even touched me?” You whined, kicking your legs out as they dangled freely.

Viktor flickered his gaze to you, raising a defensive eyebrow, “it hasn’t been that long.”

“It has! I’ve been keeping track,” you were adamant, sitting upright again with a puffed chest, “why would I lie?”

He blinked a few times, gathering his bearings – at a loss for words, guilt rising up the back of his throat. He’d never been anything less than a great partner to you, and here he was ignoring you shamelessly. 

Viktor sighed, shifting to turn his body toward you and reaching over, so his hand could rest over your thigh as you sat on his desk, “I’m sorry.”

The touch on your thigh kick-started a heat inside you, your heart thumping against your ribs. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrugged coyly and moved from the table to shift into his lap. The sudden movement caused the table to jerk slightly, and Viktor panicked, stilling your hips with his hands as he looked at the crystal—making sure it remained undisturbed.

You looked down at him, jutting your bottom lip out. Your arms strung lazily around his neck.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, a dusting of pink colouring his pale cheeks.

You rolled your eyes playful as your hands lifted to his hair, brushing through the brunette strands. You sighed dramatically, “it’s okay, I guess.”

That brought a smile to his lips, nimble fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt, “all is forgiven?” He asked, leaning toward you.

“Mostly,” you breathed, closing the remaining distance as you two shared a long-awaited kiss. You hummed against his lips, savouring the touch you had been craving for so long. Viktor’s own impatience hadn’t gone unnoticed, feeling the way he rolled his hips against yours and how his nails scraped at your skin.

It sparked an idea.

After your tongue licked at his bottom lip invitingly, you pulled back completely. Satisfied at the way Viktor watched you with his big, gold eyes. Silently, you slid from his lap, and he chased your lips. You’d gotten him up out of his chair, his hands reaching for you as he moaned into your mouth, before you broke the kiss for a second time.

“What are you doing?” He groaned as you stepped back, huffing.

You giggled, chewing on your bottom lip as you reached for his hand, acting as his support as you pulled him for a third kiss. Four hands explored each other’s bodies as you led him backward, slowly and carefully, as your kisses brought him all the way to the bedroom–careful with his limp.

Viktor had been so lost in tasting the strawberry on your tongue that he gasped when you spun him around and pushed him back onto the bed. He blinked up at you, lips parted and shuddering, as you crawled back over and straddled his lap.

“Do you still like hextech more than me?” You asked coyly, hands slowly unbuttoning his academy-issued vest.

Viktor smirked, shifting to lean up on his elbows. “Do you want a serious answer?”

“I hate you,” you whined, but he was quick to laugh and pull you down into a kiss that rightly shut you up.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ 0713

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- simon and reader have a daughter. may as well make this an unofficial series ～(　TロT)σ every day i am victim to the delusions !!

when you first met simon, you quite honestly did not think you'd end up having such a domestic life with him. you've known each other for a long while, been together for less. you've seen each other go through hell and back, worry for each other's safety and return, and here you are now, with a daughter that is exactly like him.

kind of. mostly, you'd say.

personality? absolutely. quiet, reserved-- her, mostly in the sense that she's shy. him, in the sense that he just doesn't like talking to people very much. but quiet all the same, you suppose.

appearances? oh, one hundred percent. brown eyes, brown hair. sharp gaze. you don't know how a two year old has a sharp gaze, but she does.

little quirks? you suppress a sigh just thinking about it. wherever you are, simon is. he's practically your shadow-- so what's your daughter? his shadow. so basically, in summary : anywhere you go? have no fear, you will never be alone. ever.

oh, forgot something in the bedroom? just turn around and you'll face-plant into your husband's chest, and when you recover, you'll see your daughter peek out from behind his leg to see what all the ruckus is. oh, you're going to do laundry? forget the television, make it a group effort instead. grocery shopping? no need to split up to make it faster. he's mapped out the most efficient route around the store to knock out this trip in less than an hour.

yeah. they're weird. but you love them, so it's okay.

you'd like to think that nothing surprises you at this point, until today -- when you're tending to the house, bright and early, only to see a certain half awake toddler and her dad standing in the living room. you pause for a moment, mildly surprised that she's already up. you don't say anything-- just watching, as they haven't noticed you around the corner of the hallway quite yet.

"papa."

"munchkin."

silence. like, a long silence. your brows furrow, and you can't help but tilt your head in confusion and curiosity as you witness the strange phenomenon that is your family. she closes the distance, looking up at him. and in return, he looks down at her.

and they just stare at each other. in even more silence. for a good few minutes. not a single word exchanged. you're just so confused by this interaction that you're about to speak up, but then she raises her arms, and just like that, he picks her up, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead-- his usual good morning greeting to her, you've come to notice.

you stand there in the hallway, confused as ever, as he walks off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her. you have no idea what that was. you blink a few times before shaking your head, joining him in the kitchen to help with the morning prep.

-- so naturally, when night comes, the little one is sleeping, and you're laying in bed next to simon, you can't help but ask:

"what the hell happened this morning?"

he pauses at the sudden question.

"you burned the pancakes, dove."

your eye twitches.

"i did fucking not." you roll your eyes, though you don't put up any resistance as he pulls you closer to him, an arm draped over your waist. "i'm talking about your little stare down today. what was that?"

simon stares blankly at the wall in recollection of the event. a moment or two, then a slow shift in his gaze as he looks at you.

"-- just had a bit of a chat."

"...you both said one word each."

"said it was a bit, didn't i?"

oh, insufferable. weird and insufferable. you give him a deadpan stare, in which he returns full on-- and now you're stuck in a silent staring contest with him. as much as you'd love to try and redeem yourself from the losing streak you've maintained all these years, you understand that one : it is midnight, and you would like to not stay up until three in the morning only to lose, and two : you should be realistic and know that you'll never win.

"stop that." you grumble, hand covering his eyes. "she's gonna pick up on that and start staring into people's souls. it'll freak them out."

he chuckles softly, moves your hand away before lacing his fingers with yours, lips gently trailing down your neck. "not a bad thing. instills fear."

"...i would really like you to not encourage our two year old daughter to instill fear into people, simon riley."

a faint hum of acknowledgement and amusement, then another kiss along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, then your lips. he can't help but notice the feeling of your smile despite your disgruntled words, and he thinks he loves you all the more for it.

"i'll consider it, love."

[parkersgarage]

a/n:I just be throwing words together and hit post y’all, I can’t even lie.

Sevika x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) 747 wc, little angsty but I wouldn’t cry to it (｀_´)ゞ dialogue heavy as per usual!

“Am I still allowed to say, ‘come back in one piece’” you ask quietly, watching her tighten miscellaneous screws on her arm.

Sevika doesn’t get it. Why you’re so suddenly quiet when before you wouldn’t stop yapping her ear off, or when she’d come home, you’d shout and cheer while waking up the whole damn block. But now it’s just quiet.

She hates it.

A look of disappointment crosses your face when you don’t receive any response. Your eyes have never looked so dull and lifeless before.

“I know you don’t like this,” she starts, staring at her hand. She couldn’t look at you. “I don’t either, but this is how I can keep you safe.” A hum is her only response; she takes it.

“Can you talk to me, please?” Sevika nearly bites her tongue at the plea, but you’re the most important thing in her life now and maybe forever. “I can’t read your mind, not as good as before.”

A shaky and deep sigh falls past your lips. With trembling fingers, your hand glides up her arms gently, slowly melding your body against hers. She takes you in just as tenderly, rough fingertips holding your waist while the cold metal of her hand reaches to your neck.

“It’s too much,” you confess, letting your head fall to her shoulder. You couldn’t let her see you. “All of this change, all the blood being spilled, your new employer.” Your voice gets rougher by the end, and Sevika’s heart churns at the anger in it.

Had she known how you would react to it, if she knew how bitter and angry you’d be about her joining the very force she used to fight against, would she still do it?

If she could take back joining, if she had just let it lie and die, could she?

“I’m–” the apology sits heavy on her tongue, waiting to spill out, but all that follows is silence. You wonder, did this new life mean Sevika couldn’t even talk to you?

She sighs, rubbing her forehead as you pull away from her. “I wish I didn’t have to do this just to keep you safe.” She murmured, her head cast low in an attempt to hide. “He told me as long as I work for him, not a single thing would touch your head, and that’s all I want.”

“Vika, we could’ve just left—”

“And where would you suggest we go?” She asks, cutting you off entirely. There’s a snap in her tone that doesn’t go unnoticed, one you couldn’t blame her for. Yet she sighs again, regret on her face– or rather, it was guilt.

“I get it.” You nod, sitting back– away from her. “I’m sorry.” Another sigh; it seems almost never-ending. The dissatisfaction, the hurt, everything. All because of one slight change. “I won’t complain anymore.”

“That’s not what I–” her sentence falls off her tongue when you get up. Just as you move to walk away, her fingers are quick to grasp your wrist lightly. “Don’t go.” She whispers, and shockingly, her eyes turn watery before casting downwards. “Please.”

You sink back down to your knees. Her hand still holds onto you, afraid you’ll walk away again. You can’t tell what’s going on in her head, what internal battle she’s going through, and how this change affects her.

“You should eat.” You say after a beat of silence. She only hums, ultimately leaving the thought behind as she lays her head against your chest. “You’ve had a long day, Vika.”

Her eyes shut as she focused on your beating heart. She felt bad for tuning out your voice, but this is what she needed. To hear that you were alive, that you weren’t lying lifeless in a ditch like she’d been threatened with hours ago by some goon who was less than her.

At the end of the night, after you’ve both eaten and settled for bed, she clings onto you tighter than she ever has. When she thinks you’ve fallen asleep, the tears that soak your shirt don’t go unnoticed by you. All you wished for was to turn around, wipe them from her face, and tell her it would be okay. But Sevika wouldn’t want that, at least– that’s what you thought. “I love you.” She says. It weighs you down, making you sink further and further into the pit you dug yourself into.

You wonder why it was only said when she thought you were sleeping.

can yall tell I like writing semi-soft Sevika ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[tooclevertobehappy]

Hidden in plain sight Part.4

TRIGGER WARNING: slight mention of injury, mentions of abuse, all angst no comfort

They’d been led into Clara’s room almost an hour ago, stood around for a few minutes staring at her as she slept, unsure of what to do before each of them found their place.

Mapi and Ingrid sat at her sides, both holding one of her hand in theirs, keeping their eyes on her, watching for any sign indicating she might be waking up.

Alexia took post near the door, standing against the wall her arms crossed over her chest, eyes locked on Clara’s face. The couple urged her to sit down or to at least stand near them, but the captain had refused, face tight, lips pressed into a hard line she’d simply looked at the door and stayed there.

She’d stared down any nurse or doctor that came by during their wait, she’d watched closely as they checked Clara vitals, looked at her bandages, she’d stood there looking like a spring wound tight, ready to snap at any moment.

Alexia felt like she had failed Clara, that she hadn’t protected her when it mattered and she would be damned if she let anything happen to her now. But Clara wasn’t awake, and it’s not like she could deal with her father herself, so she stood guard.

She couldn’t believe how small she looks in that hospital bed, the pediatrics gown they’ve put on her doesn’t help either, the small smiling characters contrast with the severity of her injuries. While the bandage and bruise on her face shocked all of them when they’d entered, she knows that the ones hidden by the gown are so much worse.

They’d been sat in an almost religious silent since they’d entered, their vigil only interrupted during the regular check-ins of the nurses, all looking for any signs of life from Clara, while they all knew that the regular beeping of the monitor meant that she was here and alive, they knew that they would only be able to start to relax when she would finally open her eyes.

Clara may have been lying less than a meter away from them, but it felt like she’d never been further, they’d all missed it. They had spent months alongside her, and somehow never noticed that it was all wrong, the smiles, the laugh, the playful banter, it had only been a ruse to hide the truth.

A small whine echoed in the room, pulling the attention of all three women towards the bed. Mapi and Ingrid standing immediately and leaning over the bed toward Clara’s face while Alexia took the few steps separating her from the foot of the bed to reach them.

“Nena?” asked Mapi “Can you hear us?”

More soft sounds came out of the young girl whose face seemed to tense as she slowly became more aware.

“Can you open your eyes nena?” pleaded Ingrid, the desperation to finally see Clara awake seeping through her words.

Clara didn’t open her eyes but one of her hands came up trying to feel her head where pain still radiated from, Mapi caught it just as she was about to reach the bandage covering up her forehead.

“No no no Nena leave that alone” she softly tells her, voice firm.

A confused whine comes out of Clara as she blearily open her eyes, blinking slowly as she makes direct eye contact with Alexia from her position on the lightly raised bed. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion, her gaze darting around the room as she takes in her surrounding. Her eyes dart to each of the women standing in the room, Mapi and Ingrid by her sides and her captain standing before her.

“Wha.. What happened?” Clara asks.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” answers Ingrid, her shaky voice causing Clara’s confusion to rise.

“Training? We were doing the 11vs11 and then… I don’t know, my head hurts though, so I’m guessing I hit it? Is that why we’re here? And why you all look at me like I’m about to die?” answers Clara trying to see the humor in the situation.

Clara’s joke about the scar was meant to lighten the mood, but it felt hollow. Her words hung in the air, flat and forced. It was the same nervous habit she had when she didn’t know what to say, when she was unsure how to handle the tension building around her.

Alexia’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her eyes narrowing as Clara made light of the situation. The smile on Clara’s face, the joke about their worry, it grated against everything Alexia was feeling. She wanted to shout, to demand answers. She turned away from the scene in front of her, trying to calm herself.

“Yes, you hit and bashed your forehead open during training, you lost consciousness and that’s why you were brought here” confirms Ingrid, whose hand is now back holding Clara’s, running small circle on it with her thumb.

“Will the scar look cool at least?” says Clara wiggling her eyebrows towards Mapi.

Alexia turns back to them, her hand coming down harshly against the metal bars of the foot of the bed, the smack resonating throughout the room.

“Will you stop joking! Alexia’s voice broke the tense silence, loud and raw. She slapped her hand against the metal foot-board of the bed with a sharp crack, and Clara flinched, the sound ringing in the room. “You had us all worried to death!”

Clara’s smile faltered, and she stiffened in Ingrid’s grip, her eyes wide with confusion. Her body tensed, as if the words had physically struck her. She turned to look at Alexia, but the captain had already turned away, her shoulders rigid with barely contained anger.

The couple shared a worried look over her, both noticing the growing tension in the room. Mapi took a step closer to Alexia, her hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, but it was like touching a live wire. Alexia’s tension radiated off her, a palpable force that made the air feel thick. Mapi could see the storm brewing in her captain’s eyes, but she couldn’t calm it.

“Ale…” whispers Mapi

Ingrid’s calm voice cut through the tension. “Alexia, stop. She’s not ready for this. We need to focus on her, not fight each other.”

“No! She doesn’t get to joke about this! She doesn’t get to pretend everything is just fine!” exclaims Alexia pushing Mapi’s hand off her and taking a small step back.

Clara’s heart raced. The outburst felt like a slap, and she could feel her pulse pounding in her throat. What had she done? Why was Alexia angry at her? Her mind raced, struggling to make sense of the sudden change in atmosphere. Had she been next to her when she got injured? Had she injured someone else and the captain is mad at her for it? She racks her brain trying to make up a story in her head that would fit with her reaction but comes up empty.

“I don’t understand” she says in a small voice.

Ingrid softly smiles at her, but she can see the unease in her traits as she looks up at her, the hand that she’d been tightly holding onto lets go and a small part of her wishes she could grab it right back, and Ingrid’s hand comes up to her unmarred cheek and she slowly caresses it.

Ingrid’s hand was warm against her cheek, and for the briefest moment, Clara allowed herself to lean into it, as though the simple gesture might pull her back from the brink of panic. “It’s okay, nena”, Ingrid murmured, her voice gentle but firm. “Just focus on healing. That’s all that matters right now. “

Clara wished she could sink into Ingrid, desperate to feel the comfort she’d been craving for months, but she couldn’t allow herself to fall into it, Alexia is already upset with her, and there’s no way she’d allow herself comfort, not when she’d obviously done something wrong and needed to atone for it somehow.

She starts to wonder if this is it. If Alexia is finally tired of having to take care of her. She’d tried no to be a bother to the older players, tried to do her part and follow all of the captain’s order. But maybe she’d been too much, too needy, maybe that’s why Alexia seemed so distant.

She should be used to it by now, trusted adults giving up on her, she should have learned that lesson long ago. Tried to get by whilst only relying on herself, tried to distance herself from the pain that would come with the inevitable abandonment that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

But she made mistakes, got too attached again, went to dinner at Mapi and Ingrid’s house, got attached to them, to their gentle care, followed Alexia’s advice blindly and did all she could to get the words of praise she craved from her.

She ended up in the same place she always does. Scared, hurt and alone. Sure she’s surrounded by them in the too bland hospital room, but in the end it’s only her.

Only her that goes home to her father, her who patches herself up and gets up in the morning no matter how much it hurts. It’s the four walls of her room that bear witness all her cries and anguish, it’s her who fights to keep going when it feels like the world is crushing her.

Clara can only rely on herself, it’s why she inches herself away from Ingrid, as much as she can, trapped on the small hospital bed, she’s rebuilding her walls, readying herself to face Alexia’s anger head-on, it’s why she misses the way Ingrid’s smile falls, how Mapi and Alexia abruptly end their hushed argument to turn and look at her.

“Nena?” asks Ingrid, trying to understand how in the space of a few seconds Clara went from leaning on her to seemingly trying to get as far from her as she can.

“I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done” says Clara, tone flat, almost mechanical.

The women all share concerned looks, it’s like she’d completely disconnected herself from the situation, laying there but not fully present.

“What are you apologizing for Nena? You’ve done nothing wrong” asserts Mapi, walking closer to her bed, but Clara barely reacts to her approach, her gaze unfocused and distant.

Clara turns her head to look at her, but to Mapi it feels like she’s looking through her rather than at her.

“But I must have done something wrong don’t I? It’s why she’s mad right?” asks Clara, her head making a small nod in Alexia’s direction, who suddenly feels like the worst person on earth.

Clara had woken up hurt in an unknown place, and what had she done except raise her voice at her and apparently scare her enough into becoming whatever this empty person in front of her seemed to be?

“Nena, nobody is mad at you, Alexia is just worried.” tries to explain Ingrid, her hand reaching for Clara’s.

But Clara retracts her hand from where it had been clutching the sheet, bringing it closer to her chest, as if Ingrid’s hand could hurt her, would hurt her. Her mind screaming at her to get away before she gets hurt again, before Ingrid leaves her behind.

Ingrid swears she can feel her heart breaking inside her chest seeing Clara flinch away from her, she looks at Mapi, distraught and not quite sure how she can help Clara without scaring her further.

The guilt momentarily overtaken by the need to care for the young girl now takes back control over her, stomach tightening into knots, she can feel bile rising in her throat at the possibility of Clara thinking that she’d hurt her.

“Why?” demands Clara “I’m completely fine aren’t I? My head feels fine, they already stitched me up, I’m sure they’ll let me out of here soon anyway!” she tells them, her voice raising along as she speaks, surely they understand that? She’s fine, has been for months, she can handle injuries, after all she’d been taking care of herself for months.

Mapi sighs, sitting in the chair next to her bed, hands resting on her thighs, taking a few small breaths before speaking “But it’s not just your head Nena isn’t it?” she’s posing the sentence as a question but they all know it’s more of an affirmation.

Clara tense as Mapi finishes her question, her eyes darting around the room as if she’s looking for a way out of the conversation, and if they’d looked at the monitor they would have seen her heart rate slowly raise as the conversation kept going.

“What do you mean? Of course it’s just my head, it’s the whole reason we’re here aren’t we?” Clara tries to affirm, but they can all hear the shakiness in her voice as Clara desperately tries to stay in control of the situation.

“Nena, we know.” says Alexia, voice firm, her expression tense. She’s done playing around with this issue, done pretending everything will be okay when none of them are sure it has even been okay to begin with.

Clara can feel her whole body tense up. She can hear her heart beat in her ears, almost drowning out the sounds around her, can feel the way her hands clench to the point she’s pretty sure her nails have cut the skin of her palms.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” asks Clara, defiance in her tone, if she has to go down, she’ll go down fighting. She’s done this whole dance routine before, she knows all about adults pretending to care only to leave when things get too real, too hard, too inconvenient to them.

She’s aware of their eyes on her, can see the tears in Ingrid’s eyes, can see the way Mapi looking at her, like she’s just a small, hurt, thing, it pisses her off, why do they pretend they care? She knows they don’t, no one has so far so why would they? But more importantly she’s fucking mad at Alexia, acting like she just knows everything when she knows nothing.

“How about you tell us about how you hurt your ribs?” Alexia’s eyebrows are raised, looking at her like she defying her to try and lie about it, Clara can see the exasperation in her eyes and somehow it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

“My ribs are fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” grits out Clara through clenched teeth, of course they hurt, she was pretty sure her father slamming her against the wall had been what caused the pain radiating in her side, but it had been manageable.

Alexia is stuck between wanting to wrap Clara in bubble wrap never letting her leave her sight and shaking the hell out of her. She contains her anger but can’t help the scoff that leaves her mouth.

“Try again, Clara. Fractured ribs aren’t fine.” she tries again from her position standing at the end of Clara’s bed with her hands on her hips.

Clara feels her heart stop in her chest before it starts back up thundering against her rib cage, her hands clutching into fists, she stares right back at Alexia as the monitor behind her start beeping loudly, alarming all the occupants of the room.

Alexia clenches her fists at her sides, guilt and frustration warring inside her. She wants to shake Clara, to make her understand they’re here for her but instead, her words come out sharper than she intended.

“That’s enough Alexia!” firmly exclaims Mapi “This isn’t helping her!”

“And letting her pretend everything is fine when she has been hiding being abused for weeks?” she snaps back at her, her eyes not leaving the teen’s own.

The world freezes. Clara hears the word abuse echo over and over, louder than the monitor, louder than her own heartbeat. Her vision blurs, her mind screaming to retreat, to block everything out—but instead, she forces herself to surface. To fight.

The others have been looking at her expectantly, waiting to see how she’ll answers Alexia’s words.

She choose the same path she always does when she’s confronted with the subject of her home life.

“Abuse?” she scoffs “And where did that crazy idea come from huh?” she continues

Even Mapi looks disappointed, they’d all hoped Clara would come clean, admit what she’d been going through, they remembered the agent words on abused children, but they thought, no, hoped, Clara would trust them enough with this, if not before then now.

“Clara” Ingrid speaks up “There’s no point hiding it anymore, we know okay? We know and we want to help you, please let us help you” there’s tears dripping out of her eyes as she holds eye contact with Clara, who’s looking back at her wide-eyed.

“I want my dad.” Clara’s voice trembles, rising to a pitch that makes the others freeze. She doesn’t know why she said it, only that the words feel like her last defense

The room falls silent, her words shocking everyone into stillness. Then Alexia speaks, her voice low, trembling with fury “He’s not coming anywhere near you, if we have anything to say about it.” Spits out Alexia through clenched teeth, trying to hide her shaking hands by holding onto the bed’s foot-board.

“He’s never coming close to you again” Alexia’s voice shakes, but her eyes stay locked on Clara. The guilt of her earlier anger still gnaws at her, but she channels it into conviction.

The monitor screams, and Clara erupts. “NO! LET GO OF ME! I WANT MY DAD! DAD, PLEASE!” She thrashes against the bed, tears streaming, her voice cracking with each desperate cry.

They all surround the bed, trying to get a hold of the crying teen whilst trying to keep their own tears at bay, hoping to stop her from aggravating her injuries.

Doctors flood the room, their voices sharp and urgent as they push the others aside. Alexia tries to argue, her voice cracking, but Mapi pulls her back. All they can do is watch from the hallway, the sound of Clara’s screams echoing in their ears until, mercifully, silence falls

The doctor came out of the room explained to them that Clara had to be sedated for her own good, that they couldn’t get the panic attack to stop and that the risk of worsening her injuries was too great.

They’re all told to leave for the night, to let her rest, that with the sedative she’s been given she’d sleep until the next day anyway, the doctor kindly recommends they get some sleep as well, that talks can wait till everyone is better rested and less on edge, before he leaves them standing there.

They leave, and go back to their home, all feeling emptier than ever. Everything they’d had hoped for ruined, they were left feeling like they had failed again.

Ingrid and Mapi go back to their apartment, foregoing food and showers, they just lay in each others arms, finally letting out all the anger, guilt and fear, out, through shaking sobs as they tried to keep the other from falling apart.

Alexia could have gone home to her apartment, gone back to Olga’s arms, but she’d drove straight to her mother’s house, knocking on her door before collapsing in her arms as soon as the door opened.

Her mother guided her to the couch before holding her tightly, rubbing her back as Alexia sobbed her feelings out, cried out her guilt, her failure.

They all wanted to help the teen, but would Clara let them?

As Clara laid on her hospital bed she’d asked herself the same question, woozy from the medication she realized she’d soon have to make a decision.

Her teammates or her father.

[immortalmrwavell]

James: Two Men Bound as One

(For @sivfenrir)

(Original story posted March 23rd 2022 & April 16th 2022) This story has been mildly Updated

Long Story Here!! This story was originally posted in two parts but I’ve put them together in one post for your reading convenience! That said this is one of the longest stories I ever wrote so I hope you all enjoy!

(Part 1)

Seth, a youthful man in his 20’s, had just gotten home after another not so pleasant trip to his local gym. Not being able to get through a single workout without being loosely threatened and called homophobic slurs. As always he had Bradley to thank for that.

All his life Seth had been skinny as could be and usually found himself picked on by the bigger guys back in his school years. Of course now, being an adult, he was free of such torment. For the most part anyway. Whenever he ever tried going to his local gym to exercise and get into shape, the jocks and gymbro’s there would always give him a hard time. Saying how they didn’t want scrawny nerds slowing down their workouts by taking up the equipment. Of course not all the dudes in there were like this but there were enough for it to put Seth off wanting to go.

Today though, Seth decided to try his luck again in the hopes he’d get a decent workout in peace. The moment he saw Bradley from across the room however, he knew that wasn’t likely. Bradley would always make it his personal mission to make going to the gym absolute hell for any “geeks” or “nerds” that he saw. He saw the gym as a place only made for alpha bros like himself and hot chicks. With his small and meek build, Seth certainly didn’t fit either of those categories. It also didn’t help that Bradley was one of his former high school bullies…

Despite this Seth decided to put on a brave face before walking over to some equipment and starting his workout. Of course he only got about 10 minutes in before he was spotted by Bradley. The crude jock began to tease him relentlessly, telling him to get off whatever machine he was using so a “real man” could workout instead.

Surprisingly though, Seth stood up to Bradley somewhat. Usually he wouldn’t dare, preferring to shrink into himself and bend to the bully’s will. But today he managed to find an ember of courage burning inside of him. He took a breath before finally putting his foot down and telling Bradly he wasn’t gonna get off until he was finished.

Naturally Bradley didn’t take kindly to this lanky nerd speaking to him like that. He continued to more or less insult and bully Seth throughout the rest of his workout. And just when Seth didn’t think it could get any worse, as soon as he left to head home, Bradley cornered him outside of the gym and punched him hard in the gut. The jock spat on Seth, telling him to learn his place.

As Seth was left on the ground clutching his stomach in pain, he couldn’t help but have mixed emotions. Of course he hated what Bradley did to him. The constant pushing around and name calling amongst other things… but at the same time he felt sort of aroused by it all too. He’d always had a thing for big muscly men, especially jocks, and Bradley fit the bill perfectly. He wanted to hate Bradley but he always seemed to end up in bed jerking off to the bully instead.

Besides he knew Bradley wasn’t quite as impressive as he seemed in terms of having his life together. He had a shitty handyman job that didn’t pay a whole lot as well as a part time job as a personal trainer. Seth on the other hand was working his way towards a programming job that would pay quite a fair amount. More than Bradley would ever be earning anyway. That thought always gave him some peace of mind.

Later that evening, after a slightly painful walk home, Seth ended up playing a couple hours of DnD with his other “nerdy fag friends” as Bradley and the other straight jocks would call them. It wasn’t until midnight that they finally got to a point where they could pause the game for the night. Most of his friends went to bed after that, leaving the group call they’d been on. Seth on the other hand decided to stay up awhile longer.

He’d been searching up a bunch of gay porn and stuff when he got sidetracked and started looking at sex toys online. He’d always thought about buying some. And so he scrolled through a bunch of different sites and toys until one finally caught his eye.

At first glance they seemed like an ordinary pair of bondage handcuffs. That is until he read the description. Apparently they were called ‘merging cuffs’. It claimed that if two people were to cuff themselves together then they would merge into one person! Of course Seth didn’t believe it one bit but the idea of it certainly piqued his interest. And his boner. The cuffs were also super cheap so he just shrugged and purchased them right then and there on a whim. Why the hell not right?

It couldn’t have been more than a minute after buying those cuffs that Seth heard a knock at the front door. But it was past 1:30 in the morning?! Who the hell would be delivering mail at this time? Regardless, curiosity got the better of him as he pulled his pants back on before sneaking out of his room. He was careful not to wake his mother who was asleep in her room as he approached the door.

He quietly opened the front door, not sure what or who to expect. What greeted him was a tiny wrapped gift box sitting on the door mat. Whoever left it there was nowhere to be seen now. Seth reached down and picked up the peculiar box to find that it was in fact addressed to him. Now even more curious he closed the door before taking the box back up to his bedroom.

After plopping himself down on his bed, he opened the box to find what was inside. Only he was shocked to find the very same pair of handcuffs he’d just ordered on the web! But how!? It didn’t make sense!? Seth inspected the box a little before pulling out the cuffs. Yep, definitely the same ones he ordered. He hardly knew what to think at this point. Despite that he couldn’t help but notice a small instruction letter at the bottom of the box too. Seth pulled it out before reading the following…

~~~

These handcuffs will allow two individuals to become one entirely new entity.

It’s as simple as putting one cuff on person A and the other cuff on person B. When they become one they will for all intents and purposes become an entirely new being made up of the qualities from their two counterparts. Once Person C is created, reality will adjust to compensate for their existence and the absence of their former selves. The only people recorded to still be somewhat aware of the previous reality have been parents to the original Person A & B. Besides that nobody is likely to be aware of the merger that has taken place.

These handcuffs are also only good for ONE USE. You can choose to split at any time but after that you will not be able to use the cuffs to merge again. To split you must break the two metal bands created by the cuffs after the merge is complete. You must also be willing to split for this to work. If the metal bands are somehow to be broken and Person C does not wish to split back into A & B then the merge will become PERMANENT.

With all this in mind, use these handcuffs wisely and with a sound mind.

~~~

Seth’s heartbeat was soaring after reading all that. Sure he hadn’t believed it before but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He couldn’t fathom how the hell this package got here as fast as it did. That said he started to question if maybe these things could be the real deal after all…

— The Next Morning —

After jumping out of bed and getting ready for the day, Seth threw on a baggy pair of shorts and a loose fitting t-shirt to match before heading off to the gym once again. He was sure to grab the cuffs just before he left. Stuffing them into his bag before setting out.

Upon stepping through the doors he could already hear the grunting of men lifting weights and growing bigger. Music to his ears. He’d chosen this specific time for a reason however because he knew (after some social media stalking) that every Tuesday at about 9:30am, Bradley would be at the gym without fail.

Turning the corner past reception, he saw that his assumption was absolutely correct. Across the gym floor he could see Bradley already warming up. With that in mind he entered quietly, choosing some equipment as far away from Bradley as possible. Of course this only worked for so long until the meathead finally noticed him.

From there it was just like every other time the two had been at the gym together. Seth getting teased and pushed around whenever Bradley had a break between sets. He managed to hold out and endure it though. Rolling with insults until Bradley eventually finished his routine and sauntered off into the locker room. Seth waited a solid minute or two before following him.

Seth hesitantly snuck around the locker room in search of the muscle bound hunk who’d been tormenting him. The room wasn’t all that big so it didn’t take that long for the nerd to spot Bradley standing by an open locker grabbing a towel and some shower gel. He must’ve been getting ready to have a quick rinse off in the showers. Lord knew Seth was tempted to see if he could catch a glimpse of Bradley’s nude body. Just the thought of seeing water cascade down the perky muscle ass was enough to make him wanna bust a nut on the spot. Yet somehow his urge to try out the mysterious handcuffs was even stronger.

Seth pulled the handcuffs out of his bag. He looked down at them before glancing up at the jock before him again. He still wasn’t sure if these things would work. Worst case scenario, they don’t do anything and he probably gets punched in the face. But if somehow they did work then… it’d be worth the risk.

Seth waited until Bradley was facing the other to put one cuff on himself and begin to tip-toe towards the man. His small size allowed him to be fast while remaining as quiet as a mouse. Despite that his heart was still pounding both with worry and excitement as he inched closer to the jock. He could smell that sweaty post workout scent filling his nostrils already. He even watched as the hunk kicked off his trainers and bent down to pull off his ankle socks before tossing them in the locker. Bradley was about to pull off his tank top next when he felt a cold metal bracelet smack against his wrist and snap shut.

“THE FUCK ARE…” The gym bro stopped short as he saw the small man who’d just slapped a single handcuff on him. Seth felt as though his heart were about to explode out of his chest as the man looked down at him with pure disgust.

“Oh. It's you.” Bradley spat, already clenching his fists. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing but yo—” He was cut off by a sudden jolt of energy that ruptured through his body! Seth felt it too! It seemed as though it came directly from the handcuffs.

Both men looked down at the metal cuffs bonding them together as they began to emit a strange glow. The glow started to intensify and before either of them could say another word, Bradley and Seth began losing control of themselves. Their bodies began to shake and convulse uncontrollably as the magical glow encased them as well. Bradley could only curse and shout as he had no clue what the hell was happening. Seth on the other hand had a wide grin, both of wonder and relief that these merging cuffs might actually be working!

The light around them only continued to grow as suddenly Seth and Bradley bodies forcefully pulled together like magnets as if some invisible force was binding them. Seth could feel Bradley’s muscle jiggling against him as they convulsed, loving the fact that he was just tall enough for his face to be pressed into the massive hunks pecs. God it was like he was having a wet dream! And he was gonna become a part of this huge meathead?!?! Fuck! He just couldn’t wait!

Just then the magical glow engulfed them completely. The last thing either of them felt was the strangely blissful sensation of sinking inside one another. Their bodies melding into one before blacking out…

———

A new man’s eyes would soon flutter open. He was sprawled out on the floor of the locker room staring up at the ceiling. He felt odd. Unfamiliar? But also not?… he couldn’t even explain it.

He began to sit up slowly, placing a hand on his head as he glanced towards the open locker beside him. His locker? Yet even the way his body moved felt odd and confusing. Like it was completely new yet had always been this way simultaneously.

“I… can’t believe it…” He muttered to himself in astonishment as he looked down at his hands and body. He was massive yet that didn’t seem to come as much of a surprise. He flexed an arm, feeling his biceps bulge. It felt so natural and so exhilarating at the same time. Surreal was probably the best way to describe it. “It… worked?…” He said, half confused.

With a breath, the new man stood up and was able to walk himself over to a mirror nearby and sink to get a proper look at himself. His eyes widened at the sight that stared back at him.

“I’m… I’m a… fucking nerd-hunk!” It was like he wanted to say two completely different things simultaneously. He looked like a nerd… but he looked like a hunk. But hadn’t he always been a nerd… or a hunk? Everything was so confusing. So muddled. So warped together. The man could hardly think properly.

As he inspected his reflection further, the man could see Seth’s nerdy features but it was as though they’d been ‘jockified’ in a sense. He was wearing Seth’s glasses too yet Bradley’s backwards cap also sat on top of his head. His clothes looked to be the same as Bradley’s gym gear yet the colour scheme had changed to fit that of Seth’s. And his body… It was enormous! So many years of hard work and dedication put in by Bradley yet certain features like his birthmark, body hair and more were distinctive of Seth.

Seth and Bradley. Bradley and Seth. He could see both of them staring back at him. He was also both of them and neither at the same time. Two bodies. Two minds. Two sets of memories. All of them combined into one single person. That’s who he was. And as his brain began to sort through its muddled memories, he quickly remembered how he came to be. Those handcuffs. Seth had used them to merge himself with Bradley and the result of that was the man looking back at him in the mirror.

The new man took another breath, longer and deeper this time as he tried to collect himself. Who was he? He wasn’t Seth and he wasn’t Bradley. He was a whole new person made from the sum of his parts. He felt and thought a lot of the same things they did yet he felt also completely new. As if he’d only just been born in a way.

That in mind he had to come up with a new name right? Just picking either Seth or Bradley didn’t feel right though. Saying Seth’s name out loud made him want to start throwing out homophobic slurs. Meanwhile saying Bradley’s out loud made him weirdly horny like he wanted to start jerking off to other gym bros and their huge bodies. But it still felt wrong. Like the two sides of himself were arguing inside his mind. So perhaps a whole new one would be better? He thought about it for a moment until finally a name sprung out at him.

James!

Yeah. He liked that. Not too similar to either of his old names and it had a nice ring to it. He couldn’t feel any conflict between his two halves at the name so that’s what he decided to lock in.

It was then that he took notice of the two metal bracelets on each of his wrists. He remembered the note Seth had read mentioning that’s what the handcuffs would become post merge. They emitted another faint glow for a second before settling again. Weird. He would’ve been more curious about it if he wasn’t so distracted by his new form.

James began to stroke strong stubble on his face. An interesting feeling since Seth was always relatively smooth. He scratched through it a little before running his calloused hands across every little detail on his face. It was like the perfect mix and match of facial features in the most handsome way possible. Mostly picking out Seth’s features as a base and then using Bradley’s to emphasise them in a masculine jockish way.

Of course his hands then couldn’t help but wander down his body. It didn’t take long for him to start grasping at the huge watermelons sized pecs sitting on his chest. Fuck he was jacked. He did a double bicep pose into the mirror that only served to make him look even more massive. James could only watch and smirk as his arms bulged with size. His nerdy half was beyond excited. Adoring the feel of all this powerful muscle mass that it had been yearning for all these years. So much so that James’ cock began to stiffen in his shorts. His jock half was also enjoying it but for a completely different, much more narcissistic, reason. Loving to see how this form was even bigger and more of a stud than even Bradley’s former body.

After a little more squeezing and groping of his new form, James couldn’t help but want to whip out his new combined cock. He gingerly tugged at the waistband of his shorts before slowly sliding them down until his dick jumped forward. By god was it massive. It seemed as though his counterparts cock sizes had also merged to become a much bigger whole. Seth’s cock had sat at a respectable 5 inches hard while Bradley had been rocking a 6 and a half incher. James however put them both to shame with an impressive 9 inch monster with the kind of thickness that would make any man or woman’s eyes water.

“Fuuuuuuuck…” The fused man grunted with a prideful smirk. “I could have so many hot dudes slobbering over this thing.” James chuckled as he gripped the thick appendage, sending shivers up his spine. His mind filled with images of sexy buff jocks getting their ass holes resized by his cock. That is until a conflicting thought crossed his mind.

“Wait no-I’m… I’m not a fag!?!” He questioned abruptly as Bradley’s influence shone through a little. Just then the images of muscular men in his mind transformed into hot busty women. His previous thoughts about cock and ass shifting to that of tits and pussy instead. His monster cock pulsed even harder at the idea of burying himself inside a hot babe. “Nahhhh bro. I fuckin love pussy!!” He exclaimed.

And yet his mind boomeranged once more.

“But then again…” his thoughts drifted back to the idea of eating out the hole of one of his bros at the gym before thrusting his cock into a plump jock butt. James’ mind continued to play a horny game of ping pong as it bounced back and forth between extremely gay and super straight thoughts, lightly jerking his cock throughout the conflict.

“Cock… Pussy… Pecs… Tits…” He murmured to himself as his cock started to drool precum.

James was only snapped out of this cycle when he heard some other dudes opening the locker room door. He’d completely forgotten he was in a public space! He quickly tried tucking his cock away into his shorts again, struggling to hide his obscene bulge in the process. Though he wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped before another jock turned the corner and saw him. It was one of Bradley’s gym buddies, Sam.

“Yo Jay! I thought you said you were getting a shower. You got a hot chick hiding in here somewhere?” Sam teased with a chuckle upon seeing the bulge, looking around and behind James as a joke. What struck James as odd though was the fact that the smaller jock somehow knew the name he’d come up for himself mere moments prior. Or at least an abbreviation of it that his jock half rather enjoyed. He knew reality should’ve shifted after he came into existence but he came up with that name after the shift right? Just then his mind snapped back to when he thought up the name. The metal bands on his wrists. They glowed a little when he decided on it. Perhaps that was them adding his new name to the reality alter or something? It seemed plausible but his train of thought was lost as Sam continued. “Or a dude maybe? I know you’re into that as well.” His apparent bro added.

“Oh umm… Nah bro just excited to see my uhhh… progress…” James lied with an awkward smirk. What else could he really say?

“Well I love seeing my results as well…” Sam turned to the mirror, giving a flex of his own. “But I don’t go around getting boners because of it.” He laughed.

James couldn’t help but lock his gaze onto Sam’s arms. He thought about kissing those biceps before making out with that scruffy dumb jock face of his. His Seth side had clearly harboured a huge crush on Sam as well.

“But you do you man, I don’t judge.” The other jock finished before patting James on the shoulder and walking away towards his own locker. As he did James couldn’t help but turn and get a quick look at his bro’s ass in those shorts.

‘He’s definitely been training his glutes a lot recently…’ James thought to himself, his dick jumping a bit in his own shorts at the thought of getting his hands on that ass. Smacking and fucking it. However his inner thoughts began to conflict again. ‘Nah Sam is just a bro! Bros don’t fuck bros!? Bros talk about hot chicks together!’ He then remembered a time where Bradley had seen one of the other female personal trainers wearing quite the revealing outfit one day. His cock began leaking precum once again as he remembered wanting to shove his dick between her huge tits while he kept stealing glances at her heart shaped ass. But just then, like getting horny whiplash at this point, his mind darted back to a time when Seth had seen one of the male personal trainers checking himself out in the gym mirrors after a pump. He was basically drooling as he watched the man bounce his pecs a little, wishing that he could shove his dick between those huge mounds of muscle.

Seeing the memories side by side however helped James realise something. Despite one experience being gay and the other straight, they were both extremely similar. So much so that you could switch it by having Seth be the one ogling at the woman’s tits and Bradley gushing over the man’s pecs and almost nothing would change. It was more or less the same experience. Perhaps his two halves were more alike in that regard than they originally thought…

James was suddenly snapped back to reality at the sound of Sam shutting his locker. “Well I’ll leave you to get back to…” he glanced down at James’ still slightly visible bulge. “Whatever you were doing before I guess.” And with that grabbed his stuff and left James alone in the locker room once more. He looked over at his towel along with the shower gel sitting on the bench. He still kinda smelled like sweat from Bradley’s workout. Though at this point he just wanted to have an excuse to get naked.

The grey tank top soon found itself being tossed inside the locker alongside Bradley’s trainers and ankle socks, swiftly followed by the pair of black shorts James had been wearing. Then after shutting the locker, grabbing his towel and shower gel, James sauntered off towards the showers in all his huge muscular glory. Good thing they had shower cubicles because there was no way he was gonna be able to hide his massive erect cock now.

Upon twisting the handle the shower burst to life. It soon warmed itself up. James stepped under the refreshing water flow with a deep sigh. He let the water run over him calmly for a moment before getting down to business. Grabbing and groping at his body once again but with much more lust this time around. Feeling the weight of his pecs, the size of his arms, the heftiness of his thighs and the thickness of his ass. It wasn’t long before he’d gotten some gel on his hands and began rubbing it all over his hulking form. Making sure to rub the soap into every crevasse he could find and loving every second of it.

The gay part of him couldn’t help allowing one hand to linger excessively long around his ass. Squeezing and kneading each of his cheeks before eventually sliding a finger between them and towards his asshole. But before he could try and enter it, the straight part of him forced his hole and asscheeks to clench tightly shut so nothing could penetrate it. The feeling to both desire and fight against something simultaneously was an odd one to say the least.

Eventually he stood back under the water fully to rinse off any remaining soap. As he did his thick python of a cock continued to buck and bounce at full mast as if it were begging for release. Naturally James was willing enough to oblige it.

James took a strong grip on his fat member before starting to pump. As he did he tried to think of anything that would get him going. Of course his own body was one thing. So huge and fuckin powerful. He could dominate anyone! He couldn’t help but imagine pressing one of his gym bro’s down onto his back before sliding his cock deep inside his ass, pounding away and dominating him in every sense. His balls were already churning with cum at the thought when his brain began to drift elsewhere again.

Now Imagining himself between the legs of one of those personal trainer babes at the gym. Eating out her pussy and tasting her delicious pussy juice before getting her to give him a tit job and busting a nut all over her face and breasts.

Then he jumps back to the guy he’d been pounding now giving him a sloppy blowjob. James’ hand on the back of his head pushing him as far down as he’ll go. He could practically hear the imaginary man gagging on his massive length.

Just then however, his two visions began merging into one. Both transforming into a single horny day dream.

He was now imagining himself in a threesome. The babe presented him with her wet eager pussy while the hunk presented his tight hungry hole. James was spoiled for choice. He wanted both! He loved both! Soon enough he imagined himself constantly swapping between the two. Pounding her pussy then pounding his hole then back to her pussy again. Going back and forth again and again until he nutted inside one.

By this point James was jerking his cock furiously to the mixed horny thoughts running through head. It was then that the bracelets that he’d left on until now began to glow once again. Suddenly his balls felt even fatter and fuller than they were before but at this point James was too horny to stop and ask why. At this point all he wanted was to explode! His eyes began to roll back as ecstasy overtook his body. His cock and balls started to tense up as his hand continued stroking like his life depended on it. He could feel it! He was gonna blow!!

“OOOOAAHHHHH FFUUUUUUCKKK!” James roared with extreme intensity followed by a massive rope of cum blasting from his cock. With it taking all of Bradley’s homophobic ideals and splattering them across the cubicle wall in a sticky mess. Finally releasing the one roadblock that’d been stopping James’ two sexualities from merging into a healthy Bisexual.

Then, as his cock released another tiny splutter cum, he also let go of Seth’s lack of vanity allowing him to become 100% confident in showing off his new and improved body. After that James was surprised when his cock suddenly shot another powerful rope at the cubicle wall, purging any desire to bully others by belittling them as Bradley had done so many times before. This was then followed by James’ hung appendage twitching again and letting out yet another modest cumshot. This one took with it Seth’s meek and shy nature, leaving behind only that of Bradley’s confident and extroverted one. It was only after his body had ejaculated all the qualities necessary to create the best version of James possible was his cock finally able to stop shooting load after load.

James fell to his knees then backwards onto his ass in exhaustion. He watched as his cum and ejected traits were washed down the shower drain with a faint smile on his face. There were simply no words to describe how incredible he felt. Just that he felt whole now. His two halves had finally stopped fighting against each over and have unified as one, leaving his mind feeling the clearest it'd been since the merge.

“Hey dude. You alright in there?” Came the echoing voice of another gym goer from just outside James’ shower cubicle. “I heard some noises from out there.”

He jumped back up to his feet in surprise. “Y-yeah! I’m good bro. Just slipped, but I’m good!” He shouted back, lying through his teeth as he glanced at some of his thick cum still dripping down the wall. The guy on the other side seemed a tad suspicious due to James’ tone but didn’t think anything of it and left back into the main locker room. Moments after, once he’d cleaned/licked up all the cum leftover inside the cubicle, James left with a towel wrapped around his waist as he made his way back to his locker.

Before long the merged nerdy jock had dressed himself in the spare set of clothes Bradley had in the locker. They felt tight on his body, not that it was a problem. He just loved the way his pecs stretched the t-shirt and how his thighs and ass strained inside the shorts. Wasting no more time though, James’ pulled on the leftover ankle socks and trainers before grabbing his gym bag and heading out of the locker room.

As he crossed the gym floor, James could feel the eyes of both horny and jealous people watching him and his body. And he got off on it like hell. Though just as he reached the reception he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning around he saw none other than the exact same female PT that Bradley had the hots for. His eyes almost immediately gave her a once over, inspecting her curves and cleavage shown off in the well fitting tights and sports bra.

“Heeyyy James. Are we still on for Friday night?” She asked with a devious smirk as she eyed him up just the same as he had. Looking over his bulging muscles and meaty pecs. It was then James recalled a recent memory of Bradley going on a date with her the night before. It must’ve gone well since she gave some heavy suggestions on what she wanted to do with him next time.

“Of course! Couldn’t be more excited.” James replied in a cocky but cheery tone.

“Glad to hear it.” She said, taking a step forward before reaching down, gingerly grasping at his bulge. “I can already tell we’re gonna have so much fun.” She giggled while rubbing his thick package before letting go with a wink. James grinned as he watched her turn and walk back towards some gym equipment to finish her routine, not being able to help watching her ass for a moment before turning around himself and heading out the gym exit.

James stepped out into the world, now with a semi-boner once again, and took his first deep breath of fresh air. Man did it feel good. He only had a couple seconds to enjoy the moment however as he felt the buzz of a phone from inside his gym bag. Opening the bag up he pulled out a familiar phone and saw a Grindr notification. He knew for a fact that Bradley never had Grindr but then again since reality changed this was no longer Bradley’s phone. It was James’.

Tapping the notification and unlocking the phone then took him to a chat this guy had started with him.

— Holy fuck! And I thought I was getting big hahaha. You’re fucking huge man! I would do anything just to feel those massive arms and that sexy chest! 😍 —

Well he was certainly straight forward. James went and gave his profile another quick look. They were about the same age and the guy looked to be a lean jock type. Soccer player by the looks of it. He had short brown hair with a bit of scruff on his face and some cute handsome features. The dude was definitely hot, he’d give him that. James half-hard dick even twitched again when he saw a photo of the guy wearing nothing but a Jockstrap, framing his cute ass perfectly. He could already see himself burying his face and cock between those cheeks.

He’d have to get back to that guy for sure but right now he had more important things to deal with. If everything that letter was true then his parents on both sides wouldn’t have been affected by the reality shift all that much. They probably weren’t even aware of his existence yet. So that was his next order of business. To break the news. Luckily, since Seth only grew up with his mom and Bradley only ever had his dad, there were only two parents to break it to rather than four. Still won’t make it any less awkward…

(Part 2)

James stood outside his house… or one of his houses anyway. With a deep breath he stepped forward and gave a rhythmic knock. It was only mere moments later that Seth’s mother Lisa opened the door. Of course she didn’t recognise the hulking man before her but there was an odd sense of familiarity about him.

James politely gave her his new name before asking to come inside, saying that he has something very important to tell her about her son. The middle aged woman was reluctant for a moment but the man seemed genuine so she stepped aside and offered him a seat in the kitchen.

“Ummm… well I’m not quite sure how to say this…” As James fumbled with his words Lisa became worried. She began to ask if Seth had been hurt somehow to which James swiftly reassured her that wasn’t the case. “No Mom. The truth is that… I am Seth. Kind of.”

“W-what are you talking about?! You aren’t my son!” Hearing his mother shout those words definitely hurt but James understood her view. He did look completely different after all.

“Just please give me a moment to explain.” He pleaded.

She gave him a distrusting look but allowed him to take the floor and somehow make sense of the madness he spoke.

“Yesterday I ordered these weird handcuffs and…” James went on to explain how the mysterious handcuffs worked and how they arrived almost instantly as he ordered them online. “Then this morning I took them to the gym. You remember Bradley right?…” He refreshed her memory of the bully he’d had throughout high school and how he went to the local gym frequently. “I saw him with all his muscle and confidence and decided that… I wanted to be a part of that.” James continued, telling her how the merging process had gone down after slapping the cuffs on himself and Bradley. “It was weird and confusing at first, like our individual minds were constantly pulling our new self in two different directions with opposing thoughts, but I think we’ve managed sync up now… kinda”

Of course his mother had no idea what to say to all this. The way James spoke reminded her of Seth only with a deeper, more resonant voice and a lot of the things he said were accurate like the stuff about high school… But surely he could’ve just acquired that information somehow. The only logical solution was to ask him a personal question that only Seth would know the answer too.

She sat and thought for a moment until she came up with just the question to ask. "So when you were younger, you were really proud of this one sunflower you grew. how many seeds did it make in the end?"

"Oh, hahah! I remember that easily. Just the one seed, unfortunately." He chucked thinking back to that old childhood memory. "It didn't grow to become a giant sunflower sadly, just a tiny little lanky one. Could only grow one premature seed before dying.”

Lisa couldn’t believe it, it was such an obscure memory that nobody but herself and Seth could’ve possibly known. “S-Seth?… is that really you?” She asked to which the bulky young man simply nodded with a smile in response. “I can’t… I don’t… I…” She had no idea what to say but she found herself believing it. Many of his features reminded her of her son, only more masculine, and the glasses he wore were unmistakably the same. And yet there were also a bunch of completely different features like his eyes, facial hair and most notably his large physique. Was all that crazy talk he’d said about merging actually true after all?

“Look I know you must have a lot of questions but right now we’ve got to call my dad… on Bradley’s side I mean.” James said, placing a large reassuring hand on top of hers before getting up to grab the house phone. Lisa could only stare in awe at her son(?) as he dialed a number and started calling. Soon enough Bradley’s father Saul answered.

“Wassup Dad! Look there’s something super important I gotta talk to you about. How soon can you get down here?” Suddenly James’ entire tone of speech had shifted. His dad didn’t think anything of it as James’ voice now sounded exactly like his son’s over the phone. Saul sighed at the request but agreed to meet ‘Bradley’ after being given the address.

30 minutes later there was a knock at the door. James jumped up to open it, greeting his father with that same jocky attitude as Bradley yet Saul only looked at him with confusion.

“Who the hell are you? You ain’t my son?” Though he couldn’t help but notice the man before him bore a strange resemblance to Bradley in a way.

“Yeaaaahh… about that.” James persuaded Saul to come inside and sit down at the table with Lisa. As crazy as it all sounded they convinced Saul to hear James out.

“Well I made my way down to the gym to get a pump with my bro’s and…” he went onto explain how his routine went, chatting up a couple chicks in between exercises and what not. Typical jock bro stuff. “Then I saw that Seth nerd across the room working out…” he confessed to being a bit of dick to Seth while he was there until he finished his workout. “After that I went to my locker. Was about to get a shower, when BOOM! Seth slaps this weird ass handcuff on me!” James re-explained the handcuffs to Saul, saying how they’d somehow fused him and Seth into one dude. “It was super fuckin weird at first, like a part of me was thinkin one thing then another part was thinkin something else. I think our thoughts have started to match up a little now though and work together or some shit.”

Just like Lisa before, Saul was lost for words. This man sounded like a lunatic! Yet at the same time he spoke just like his son. It wqs also a slight shock for Lisa as he hadn’t sounded quite this… bro-ey(?) until Saul got here.

Naturally Saul didn’t fully believe this to be true at first just like Lisa. And similarly to the woman before him, he prompted James to say something that only he and Bradley would know.

"Alright Dad. Hmmmm…” James pondered for a moment. “Oh I got it! You remember that time when I bullied those nerds for the entire school camping trip and you punished me by leaving me to camp alone in the forest for 2 days? I didn't learn a fucking thing from that punishment! I just proved to you I could live out there on my own." James gloated, flexing an arm and laughing.

Saul was in shock. Was this man really his son somehow? Though thinking about it he looked to have the same physique, attitude and some familiar features that reminded him of Bradley. Though there were also many that he didn’t recognise as well like his smile, his glasses and slightly lesser tanned skin among other things. Had he actually merged with some nerdy dude that slapped some magic shit on him. It took him a while to process it all but once he did…

“So you’re telling me that my jock son is now fused with some scrawny nerd!? What’re you a fag now as well?!” Saul’s outburst was sort of expected but Lisa still scolded the man anyway. Telling him to not spout ill words towards her son, especially in their own house. James also knew that despite Bradley’s clear homophobia prior to ‘ejecting’ it the other day, Saul never had anything against gay men before now. Hence he gave his father the benefit of doubt. He was probably just overwhelmed right now. Though that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease his dad a little…

“Well… I guess you’re half right. I still love pussy but dude ass looks pretty good as well now dad I gotta say!” James said with a chuckle.

“Set-I mean James! No language like that in the house please!” His mother scolded. Well it was certainly going to be a madhouse around here from now on by the looks of things.

Eventually Lisa and James got Saul to sit and listen to the positives. Being merged with a nerd means they’d be much smarter together than Bradley ever was on his own. With that intelligence they’d be able to get a decent job that pays well unlike the handyman job that Bradley had to settle for. Plus his new son still looked like an ‘alpha jock’ just with a little less douchiness about him. Really it should be a win-win but Saul was still having a hard time accepting it right now.

Afterwards, James explained that they’re the only ones who remember him being two people and that for everyone else, reality had completely shifted. In a lot of ways this made things easier, they didn’t have to bother dealing with the disappearance of Seth and Bradley nor did they have to set up some new identity for James somehow. According to everyone else, James had lived a mixed life of experiences from both Bradley and Seth. It also seemed that a lot of people now thought Bradley’s dad and Seth’s mom had a fling back in the day which was how James came to be.

After some long discussion, the three came to the decision that James would stay with Saul for the time being but would frequently come back to Lisa’s house to keep things fair. With that James went to his old room in his moms house to find that it’d been left unchanged. He grabbed whatever gear he wanted from the room and packed it into a bag. Though he didn’t bother with any of the clothes as none of those would fit him now anyway. Once done, he headed back downstairs with his stuff and said his goodbyes to his mom before hopping in his dads car and heading back to his place.

The car ride was undoubtedly awkward, neither man knowing quite what to say to the other. Best James could do was try and make some small talk about the other night's soccer game but even that didn’t help much. Luckily it didn’t take long for them to pull up into Saul’s driveway. The pair jumped out of the car and headed inside, still barely speaking a word, before James made a B-line for his other bedroom.

Upon entering he could smell a distinct musk. The sweaty post work out smell of a man clouding the room from all the previous training Bradley had done when at home. Unlike his room at Lisa’s house, this one was much messier with dirty clothes littered about the floor, unkempt bed sheets, weights and exercise equipment just lying around and much more. It didn’t seem to bother James all that much to be honest but he was probably gonna tidy it up a little later. At least get hamper in here for some of those clothes.

With that James got himself settled in, unpacking all the stuff he’d brought and looking through the stuff in his current room. He ended up rooting through Bradley’s closet for clothes to try, even throwing on some of the dirty ones, then checking himself out in the full body mirror. Due to his slightly increased size from what Bradley had been, most of these clothes now fitted quite tightly. Not that he was complaining. He just loved the way his pecs strained against some of the tank tops and t-shirt’s as well as how many of the shorts did little to hide his huge muscle butt and hefty bulge. A bulge of which was growing bigger by the second as he continued to admire his merged body, especially when he was stood in nothing but one of Bradley’s dirty jockstraps that he’d recently used during football practice with the bros. Enjoying the way it framed his ass while a bit of precum seeped through the pouch, further staining it.

In no time James was sprawled out on his bed, jacking his monster cock furiously. So fucking horny for himself, groping every part of his body like he had been in gym showers earlier that day before thoughts of both men and women alike started running through his head. In his horny frenzy, James grabbed his phone and opened Grindr. He found the guy who’d messaged him yesterday, Matt, and started scrolling back through the photos he’d sent. Fuck he was so hot, James could’ve bust a load to that cute jock butt right then and there but he held off for a moment to message back.

— Hey man, thanks for the compliments. You’re super fucking cute as well! Would love to meet up soon so we can appreciate each-over in person 😏 —

He went back to jerking gently for a moment until he got a swift reply from Matt who seemed to be completely on board. He said the best day for him was this coming Thursday. Perfect! James had a date with the personal trainer Katie on Friday so he could get ass and pussy one after the other! With that he set it up with Matt before returning his full attention to jacking off.

As his hand continued to pump up and down the shaft however, James began to notice a certain haziness setting over him. At first he assumed it just just due to his sheer horniness but the feeling grew stronger as he came closer to orgasm. His mind was overtaken by it as he couldn’t help but bust a nut all over his pecs and abs.

Suddenly conflicting memories start to disappear from his mind. Memories of Seth giving up on his work outs years back and using a flesh light are ejected out in thick ropes of cum leaving only Bradley’s memories consistent working out instead and never having to use a flesh light because he always had a hole to fuck anyway. After that even more of Seth’s irrelevant overlapping memories were ejaculated one after the other.

Afterwards James simply sat chuckling to himself as he smeared the cum over his chest before licking some up. It was like his brain had just switched itself off and he could barely think at all, a thick cloud covering his thoughts. Little did James know that jacking off had caused the two consciousness’ inside his head to start mindfucking one another. Right now it was as if the inner Bradley was shoving his metaphorical cock into the inner Seth’s mouth, shooting copious amounts of 'psychic cum’ down his throat and filling Seth’s consciousness with tons of his jock-like traits. Slowly but surely transforming Seth’s inner self into more of a buff nerdy jock.

Time flew by as James continued to lay buck naked on his bed, laughing and touching his body all over in a sort of euphoric state. After about an hour or so his dad came into the room to see his new son sprawled naked and covered with dry cum. “Huhuhuhuh shoulda knocked dude.” He didn’t even try to cover himself as his dad cursed, covering his eyes before leaving and closing the door.

It wasn’t until about 4 or so hours had passed that he finally returned to his senses, confused as to why he was now standing doing bicep curls nude in front of the mirror. Despite his brain clearing up again though, he did feel different. Besides some of Seth’s memories he could no longer recall, he also felt a bit… dumber?

The rest of that evening went as awkwardly as you would imagine when James went down to watch the game with his dad, vaguely remembering what his dad had seen earlier. It was also pretty apparent that Saul hadn’t yet accepted him either. This prompted James to try and bond with his father any way he could. Mostly via the sport on TV and hopefully try to forget what happened earlier in the process…

———

Wednesday morning soon arrived. James awoke with a big yawn as he stretched before pulling himself out of bed. Looking at his wrists he noticed the merging bracelets that were still attached to him. To be honest he’d almost forgotten they were there. He remembered what the letter said about the merge being permanent if he broke them without wishing to defuse. It was honestly kind of tempting to break them right then and there. In the short time James had spent as himself, he already felt way better than either of his previous selves ever had. However, for now, he wanted to have a backup and so he instead just slipped them off and stored them away underneath his bedroom floorboards for safe keeping.

Now that was sorted, he’d already decided he was gonna spend most of today with his dad. He had to convince him that he was still his son! Though hopefully that shouldn’t be hard since he felt more like Bradley than ever after yesterday’s odd haze.

Immediately heading downstairs after getting dressed, James found his dad sitting at the table with a coffee in hand. Well, here goes nothing.

Across the course of the day James did everything he could to get his dad to accept him. They reminisced over old memories they shared, tossed a football around for awhile, drank beer together and many other manly father and son bonding activities James could think of. Saul still wasn’t all that keen at first but as the day went on he began to warm up a little. It was minor progress but it was better than nothing. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before Saul was calling him ‘Son’ again. They managed to end the day on a high note before James later made his way back to his moms house. After all the address he’d given his hookup Matt was for his mother’s place.

Content with that day he’d had with his father, he walked inside and said hello to his mom. They chatted for a while about his day before he headed off to his room. He could tell his mom was still a little uneasy about the whole situation even if she was trying to hide it. He understood though. This was gonna take some time for both his parents.

He closed his bedroom door behind him and gazed over his other more nerdy looking bedroom. Part of him was tempted to jack his fat cock off again and bust some more jock nut like he had yesterday. He was definitely a little horny again but he honestly was too exhausted after today’s activities to bother. Instead he just collapsed onto the much smaller bed, allowing it to creak under his weight. It didn’t take long for him to doze off into a deep sleep.

———

Thursday came around and James awoke with a throbbing erection. Seems like after going 24 hours plus without jerking off, his cock was becoming restless. It took a lot of willpower to not satisfy the urge. Fortunately his desire to save his cum for tonight was greater than his urge to spill his load. He gave his thick shaft a couple tugs before trying his best to shove it into his shorts comfortably. A hard task for sure.

After heading back downstairs and grabbing some breakfast with his mom, James set off towards the gym to get his main workout in. Especially since he’d skipped it yesterday to hang with his dad.

Upon arrival he was welcomed by many other gym-goers, a lot of them he thought of as his bro’s. After that it was like muscle memory took over as he made his way over to each machine and pumped out set after set. Not to mention helping and encouraging his bros in between exercises. Fuck did he feel like he was in his element though. He felt just as Bradley always did! Barely having a thought passing through his head while pumping his already huge muscles with the sole goal of growing even bigger than he already was. Just the rush of proving how powerful he was by lifting some massive weights was causing blood to rush into his cock again. He just couldn’t control that thing!

Before long he finished his routine and went to shower off. While he was getting dried however, some of the other jocks and meatheads he’d been working out with offered him to come play some football with them on the local field.

“Let’s fucking do it bros!” He agreed with a grin.

Next thing he knew, he’d headed home to grab his football gear and the same jockstrap he’d been wearing the previous night. Then before long he was on the field tackling the other dudes while having the absolute time of his life!

They must’ve played for a couple hours as by the time he got back home it was already the late afternoon. He messaged Matt to be sure he was still coming, which Matt confirmed, before heading to his room to play some first person shooter games.

The time passed by pretty quickly and soon enough there was a knock on the front door. James rushed down to answer it before his mother could, delighted to see the man from Grindr he’d been talking to. He was cuter and even more handsome in person.

They chatted for a little while but it didn’t take long for James to lead him upstairs. As soon as the door was closed, they made out passionately for a good while. During which they started ripping off each other's clothes. Matt couldn’t stop himself grabbing at James’ arms and grinning as he felt just how huge and powerful they were. “Oh wow… you really are so fucking incredible…” He complimented as his hands continued to roam around the rest of James’ supersized muscle bod.

As Matt began squishing and squeezing at those massive pecs, James smirked down at him. “You look pretty incredible yourself you know…” he said before reaching round to squeeze Matt’s ass, earning a lustful yelp from the smaller man. The two couldn’t help but lock lips again, swapping spit with such aggressive passion. Then after finally breaking apart, James tossed Matt onto the undersized bed, stroking his massive cock to the cute jock before him. With a smirk Matt rolled over, exposing his tasty looking ass to really get James going.

Next thing they knew, Matt was leaning over the side of the bed and swallowing as much of the fat member before him as his throat could handle. James was sure to face fuck him hard and good before eventually hopping onto the bed himself, instantly jumping at the chance to eat out that juicy jock butt. Matt groaned out as his hole was licked and savoured by the hulking brute of a man, being prepared for what was to come.

After a couple minutes of teasing, the time had finally come. Once his cock was well lubed, James alined the tip with the tight hole presented before him. Matt begged him for it until he felt the tip push inside, both men groaning out in unison. Slowly but surely James delighted in pushing himself further inside until he was balls deep.

An hour or so must’ve passed by the time they finished. They were constantly switching positions, making out and admiring each overs bodies. Eventually though, despite the incredible stamina, everyone has a limit and Matt was the first to reach his. As his hole continued to be destroyed, now once again lying on his front with James pounding down into him, he groaned out and arched his back before his cock started nutting beneath him. That was James’ signal to finish up himself. Matt was then delighted to feel his ass suddenly fill with thick cum, James roaring out as he emptied the massive load his balls had stored.

While his balls unloaded, James then felt that familiar haze settling over him once again. His mind went numb as it got harder for him to think straight. During his orgasm even more memories began to vanish, this time from Bradley’s side. He shot out memories of Bradley failing most things back in high school and college. Not to mention somehow never being able to get a drivers licence. Leaving behind only Seth’s memories in those regards, getting grades ranging pretty good to amazing in most areas and having been able to drive for over 2 years now. Those among others of Bradley’s memories, all ejaculated in the load of cum that now resided within Matt’s hole.

Once again James’ two inner halves began mindfucking each over through the foggy haze. This time however, the roles were flipped. The jockier Seth was now the one receiving a passionate blowjob from Bradley, sucking out a bunch of Seth’s nerdier traits and transforming him into more of a nerdy jock mix similar to that of inner Seth. James’ two halves were becoming more and more alike by the day.

After all that intense fucking though James started drifting off to sleep, still on top of Matt who was just as exhausted. As his eyes fluttered shut, his inner Seth would only continue face fuck inner Bradley as they slept…

———

Upon waking James’ mind felt clear once again. The strange haze must’ve worn off in his sleep… but once again he felt different. Now he felt much smarter than before as if he were now channeling more of his Seth side. That must’ve been why he felt dumber and cockier before, because he was channeling Bradley. He must not have been quite as stable yet as he’d previously thought…

Laid beside him, Matt was still sleeping soundly. James couldn’t help but smile at how sweet the other man looked in that moment. He ended up wrapping an arm around the smaller but still well built man and cuddling with him. They got to lay in peace for a good half an hour or so before Matt finally began to stir awake.

The two had quite the pleasant morning chat, Matt even noting how James sounded a bit different now. Like the way he spoke sounded more intelligent. He guessed that James had been hiding it the previous night for whatever reason. As great of a time they were having though, Matt soon had leave since he was late for work. James watched while the man he bred last night yanked his clothes back on before James walked him downstairs and out of the house, waving him goodbye.

He’d never expected to like Matt quite as much as he did. Sure he was hot in all his photos but now after meeting him, he felt as though there was a deeper connection there. One he certainly wasn’t expecting. Maybe he should ask Matt on a proper date soon? Of course he already had his date with Katie to worry about first though. It’d only be fair to give her an equal chance.

The rest of the morning from that point went rather as you’d expect from James by this point… except for one thing.

He got dressed, had breakfast with his mother, then gathered his things for the gym before setting off. Though by this point he still had about an hour or so before needing to leave. So to pass the time he sat back in his bedroom and played some of Seth’s games. Games that would’ve been considered ‘geeky’ to a lot of his Jock friends but he couldn’t deny that he was having a blast!

That hour absolutely flew by and before long it was time for him to leave. After saying goodbye to his mom, James jogged to the gym as part of his warm-up before stepping inside.

He was ready for a pump.

Of course he spotted many of the other gym regulars whom he talked with as he trained. Talking to those guys did bring out a bit more of that bro-talk side to him but even they were still able to notice the strange shift in James’ tone since yesterday.

It was only about half way through his routine that Katie walked in at last. They’d agreed to meet here and leave for the nearby restaurant in town once they’d both finished. That certainly didn’t stop them from trying to chat each other up every time they passed one another though. In the end, James finished first and left for the locker room where he got a rinse off the showers and got changed.

Now he was simply sitting outside the gym waiting for Katie to finish up. Said waiting gave James a lot of time to think. Mainly about his parents.

Both his former selves had wished they could’ve had two parents rather than just one. More so Seth than Bradley but still. Now in a strange way he finally did! Although now it felt sort of like having divorced parents in a way. That’s when he came up with a plan.

James called up both his parents, asking them to come meet him and his date at the restaurant. After some persuasion over the phone, they both surprisingly agreed. Then once Katie had finished her workout and got cleaned up, the two headed to the restaurant themselves.

Upon arrival, James had already informed Katie of the situation. She was a tad weirded out by it at first but he was able to get her on board. Soon it wasn’t long before all four of them were seated at a table together. Turns out James’ big plan was in fact a double date in hopes that his parents would find some sort of a connection.

For sure it was a little awkward at first but as James and Katie flirted on their side of the table, Saul and Lisa gradually began to find common ground. Turns out the two actually did have a couple of common interests. They both enjoyed Rom-coms (Though Saul wouldn't always admit it) Baseball, Motorcycles and more!

“Hey, seems like my plan for those two is working. How’s about we leave them to it while you and I head to the Hotel across the street and… you know.” James thrusted his hips back and forth a little in his seat. Katie rolled her eyes while trying to hide an amused grin. They got up from the table after paying for their food and said to James’ parents that they were heading to the hotel. This of course invoked a slurry of embarrassing lectures about ‘safety’.

The young and horny pair arrived at the hotel in no time, getting themselves a room before rushing inside. The very second the door closed they were practically smashing their lips together, tongues exploring each other's mouths while their hands began to wander. Katie reached her hand under the back of James’ tank top, running her palm across his muscular back. James’ hand did something similar except going a little lower to feel her soft ass. The touching started gentle but quickly grew more animalistic on both ends. Katie wasn’t able to stop herself from squeezing and admiring James’ impressive muscle mass just as Matt had the prior night. Grabbing at his bulging arms and cannonball-like shoulders. James responded in kind, kneading both hands into her pillow of an ass before lowering himself a little more to get a feel of her thick feminine thighs.

Of course it wasn’t long before his focus turned to her chest as he got a good feel of her tits, chuckling a tiny bit as he played with them. Katie smirked “Alright, my turn now” She stated before reaching out and groping James’ huge pecs, poking and prodding at the muscle. “Yours are even bigger than mine.” She joked.

The two threw off the last of their remaining clothes, revealing James’ hard pulsing cock and Katie’s wet needy pussy. They interlocked their lips once more as Katie jumped up into James’ arms, wrapping her legs around his waist with one of James’ hands on her ass for support.

He carefully aligned his massive shaft with her core before gently pressing it inside inch by inch. Katie cried out in delight as his cock pressed against her pussy walls, stretching her more and more as James buried himself as deep as possible. He tilted himself back a little before starting to move his hips, slowly thrusting in and out. He used his knowledge gained from Bradley’s numerous conquests to make sure he pressed himself inside in just the right way to make her scream with lust.

James continued to fuck Katie in his arms for a good few minutes before the two hopped onto the hotel bed. The flexible young woman spread her legs nice and wide before pressing James’ face into her pussy. He proceeded to eat her out with pleasure, loving the taste of her juices as it smeared across his face.

As one can imagine this scene went on for some time. Pussy eating, dick sucking, tit jobs and all sorts of fuck positions. But sooner or later James was bound to reach the end of his rope. They finished with Katie on top of him, James’ holding her by the hips and waist to assist her in bouncing up and down. She could tell the jock was getting close by the increased grunts and inconsistent pace of his upward thrusts. Well she was on the pill so… what the hell. Katie bounced on his cock a few more times before pressing herself as far down as she could handle, moving herself around on top to massage the dick inside her from every angle. James was sent over the edge, groaning out as he unleashed a wave of cum.

It happened again. The haze. It glazed over James’ mind once more. In the load he shot out various inferior memories from not one but both sides of himself that conflicted with his merged self. While this happened, the separate consciousness of Bradley and Seth mindfucked one another once again. This time though they were fucking each over in the 69 position. They shot load after load after load of ‘psychic cum’ into one another. Constantly filling one another with parts of their individuality. Shooting over and over until that individuality started to fade as the inner Seth and Bradley slowly became more and more indistinguishable from each other. Before long even they started to fuse, merging consciousness into one singular entity as well. Melding them together until they were no longer Seth and Bradley on the inside. They were simply just James.

———

For a while everyone was a little worried when James began acting strange for the first two days after that night. Turns out that last haze lasted way longer than the others. He started acting like the dumbest gym bro around for at least 48 hours. Once it wore off however, James had evolved in the most incredible way possible. His two inner selves, after swapping and sharing so many personality traits and memories, had eventually become identical and merged into one. No more were there two voices in his head directing him, only one unified voice. No more Seth. No more Bradley. Only James.

Unfortunately Katie saw a little bit too much of the hazed out James and decided she didn’t wanna see him anymore. Guess she didn’t wanna date a guy who all of sudden seemed as dumb as a brick. Of course he was a little upset by this but it did make things easier. He enjoyed the short time he’d spent with her but in the end he didn’t feel the same sweet connection he’d felt with Matt. Luckily for James, he’d slept through the second haze and Matt hadn’t seen him as he’d went through that third one. And so… he called him.

The two met up again and had a nice proper date this time around where they got to know each other much better. They didn’t fuck on that date however. James had to make up some sort of excuse as he wasn’t sure if he’d haze out and turn into a dumb brute again.

So later that night he tested it by busting a huge load to some porn and… nothing happened. Besides covering himself in cum that is. After that you best believe James fucked Matt’s brains out post their next date. Afterwards he even got Matt to top him! He could tell the cute smaller jock was having the time of his life pounding James’ thick muscle ass. Though, thanks to Bradley’s inherited virgin hole, he felt so fucking tight at first. It took him a long while to loosen up properly for Matt’s dick.

———

Since then it’s been about a year. After a few more successful dates, Matt and James decided to start dating properly as boyfriends and they got on incredibly well. They were always laughing and having fun, James even getting Matt into a couple of his nerdy games. They loved to fuck as much as possible and enjoyed going to the gym together. Matt had even put on a fair amount of extra muscle because of James’ encouragement and gentle guidance.

That wasn’t the only good news though. Turns out James’ plan had worked after all. After that double date he’d had with his parents, they’d started to see more and more of each over. At first they came up with the excuse that it was for their shared son but before long the two couldn’t deny they were developing feelings for one another. James was thrilled for them! It really seemed like everything had come together perfectly at last. And to think none of this would’ve been possible had Seth not bought those merging handcuffs on a whim…

Saying that, James finally decided it was time. He headed into his bedroom at his fathers house and found the merge bracelets he’d hidden all that time ago. He stared down at the objects that’d created him before holding them together, proceeding to break them both clean in half with one effortless motion. Since he didn’t wish to split, the fusion was officially made permanent. No way to return. He didn’t want to. His life now was far better than his previous two had ever been. He had two parents that were falling in love. He had a beautiful boyfriend by his side. He was smart as hell, had gotten himself a great job and still had a massive incredible body.

James was here to stay. Forever.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Real Love Pt 2

Summary: You and Carlos were just supposed to be a PR couple for less than a year but someone decided to catch feelings. Part 2

Song: Collide - Justine Skye

Part 1 Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 8.6k

You lay snugly beneath the soft sheets, the golden morning light streaming through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, gently warming your skin.

You can feel the faint rhythm of Carlos’s heartbeat as he lies beside you, the intimate silence only occasionally punctuated by the soft chirping of birds outside.

The world feels as if it has paused, just for the two of you.

“Are you sure you won’t regret this?” you ask, pulling back to study his face, your heart racing.

This is the third kiss since you woke up an hour ago, a sweet closeness you never thought would come to this, despite the countless moments shared—the stolen glances during games, the playful banter after late-night training sessions.

His dark eyes search yours, a flicker of something fierce and protective igniting in their depths. “Mi amor, I could never regret this,” Carlos replies, his voice low, an intoxicating blend of affection and certainty.

“But what about the team?” you counter, slipping further down into the warmth of blankets, away from the weight of the conversation. “They’ll be mad about us breaking the PR contract.”

Carlos pushes himself onto his elbow, his hair tousled but framing his striking face perfectly. “I don’t care about them,” he declares seriously, leaning closer as if the intimacy of the space can seal your secret. “I only care about you.”

The words sit in the air between you both like a fragile promise. For a moment, you can’t breathe, your heart thundering against your ribcage as his gaze holds yours captive. With a deep breath, you let his confession wash over you.

“I want to do this…for real,” you answer, your voice scrunching down into uncertainty beneath the weight of possibility. It feels right but so precariously delicate, like the morning sun reflected through the rain-slicked leaves outside.

Carlos’s lips curve into a genuine smile, the kind that lights up every shadowed corner of the room. “Then let’s go for it,” he says, the playful twinkle in his eye returning. “Let’s make this our secret love story.”

You chuckle softly, the tension beginning to melt away. “Our secret? Like something out of a rom-com?” You raise an eyebrow teasingly as a grin dances on your face, allowing your own excitement to bubble beneath the surface.

“Exactly! Just without the horrifying misunderstandings,” he adds, chuckling and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer. You snuggle into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of him igniting something deep within you. The soft scent of his cologne mixes with the morning air—a heady concoction you want to bottle forever.

“Okay, Mr. Love Story, what’s the premise?” you ask, looking up at him with mock seriousness.

He scratches his chin, feigning deep thought. “A blockbuster soccer star falls for the journalist tasked with covering his team’s next big match, but they must navigate the storm of media scrutiny and a wildcard PR nightmare,” he finalizes, winking at you.

“Wow, that sounds…dramatic,” you laugh, shaking your head. “We’re not exactly in a movie, Carlos.” But even as you say the words, the thought isn’t entirely unwelcome. This does feel like a story freshly spun from the hearts of the fortunate.

“Do you not want to be in a movie with me?” he teases, leaning down so that his lips graze your ear, his breath hot against your skin, sending shivers racing down your spine.

“You know I’m already in one,” you whisper back, your pulse quickening. “With the hottest player in the league, no less.”

His laughter vibrates through you, a melodic sound that rattles the silence and ignites the room. “Then let’s make this one a blockbuster, too.”

You chuckle but then grow serious again, those reminders creeping back in. “But what about the consequences? Our teammates? What if they don’t take it well?”

With a single finger, he lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Let them talk. You and I? We’re worth it. If we stand together, we can face anything. Right?”

Your heart swells at his confidence, your own self-doubt hindering but not extinguishing your burgeoning feelings. “Right,” you agree, your mind skipping back to the moments before this: how he turned from being just a teammate into something much deeper, something exhilarating.

Carlos leans in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “So, tell me, are you ready for a bit of adventure, then?”

You swallow, considering your response—because it’s no longer just an idle thought; it’s a leap you are willing to take. “As long as you’re by my side,” you finally say, honesty spilling from you. “I think I am.”

“Then let’s make it an adventure. Just us,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours, each kiss igniting embers of anticipation as if the world outside the walls had vanished entirely.

You close your eyes, feeling the cocoon of his arms—and the reality of your mutual promise—that no matter where this journey takes you both, you’ll face it together.

As the kiss deepens, you push aside your lingering doubts, giving in to the warmth that curls around you like a soft blanket. In this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you, wrapped in this intimacy, ready to rewrite your own story—even if it meant braving the chaos that love always brings with it. As dawn breaks fully outside your window, the slate is clean, and the sun just beginning to rise, a symbol of new beginnings, a notion that glows warmly between you.

And together, you choose to embrace the story—whatever that may entail—fully and absolutely. . . .

You stood in the kitchen, staring across the room where your boyfriend Carlos, racing superstar and current Formula One champion, was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and a playful scowl on his face.

His dark curls fell over his forehead, making him look both infuriated and irresistibly charming. The kitchen was buzzing with activity; friends and family had gathered to celebrate his latest Grand Prix victory, laughing and raising glasses of champagne in a toast to his success.

But all you could think about was the tension crackling between you and Carlos, a palpable energy that felt wholly out of place amid all the jovial noise.

“Carlos,” you whispered, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, “you can’t seriously be thinking about that right now. Look at everyone!”

He stepped closer, the sound of laughter fading away as he moved in, eyes darkening with mischief. “I’m serious. You’d better get rid of everyone in this house or I swear to God, I’m gonna fuck you on the first flat surface I can find, and I know you don’t want anyone to know what you sound like when I’m fucking you.”

Your heart raced at his boldness, a heat rising to your cheeks. Gone was the charming boyfriend; now you were staring down the passionate, possessive man you adored, and a thrill shot through you. You glanced at the crowd of shared laughter and merriment that felt impossibly distant now. “What, you think I can just shout ‘party’s over’?”

Carlos stepped in closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe just suggest a drink outside? We don’t need an audience for this. I'm not joking, cariño.” His eyes bore into yours, filled with a fierce warmth that made your breath hitch.

“Heavens! How did I get stuck with such a needy boyfriend?” you teased, swaying your hip slightly as you pretended to survey the party, putting up a façade against his fiery gaze.

“Needy? You have no idea, love,” he said, stepping into your personal space, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ve waited all day for this.” The possessiveness in his voice sent shivers down your spine, leaving you torn between laughter and an overwhelming desire to pull him into a nearby room and shut the world out.

You motioned discreetly to your friend Emily, who was standing near the snacks table, her eyes twinkling with merriment. You gestured for her to come over. “Listen, I need you to cause a distraction. The kind only you can pull off.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a smile dancing on her lips. “Are you getting interrupted by a hot F1 driver here? Because I can kick them out if necessary!”

“Just kick them out,” you whispered, trying to suppress a laugh. “I need some alone time with Carlos, and I don’t mean just to stare at him.”

With a knowing grin, she straightened and clinked her glass loudly against the snack table. “Alright everyone! Who’s down for a game of charades? Because I want to see if Carlos can act out the last lap of the race!”

The room erupted in a mix of cheers and laughter, and you felt Carlos’s arm slip around your waist, pulling you possessively against him.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Good job, mi amor,” he said, warmth flooding through you as he spoke. “Now let’s get out of here.”

The two of you slipped quietly through the back door, navigating the sprawling garden where soft twinkling lights adorned the trees like stars.

The noise of the party faded behind you, the cool evening breeze wrapping around your skin as you stepped into the intoxicating silence of the night.

Carlos didn’t waste any time. He turned to face you, his gaze heated, full of need. “Finally,” he muttered, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his body against yours, closing the distance in an exhilarating rush.

You giggled, both nervous and excited. “We really shouldn’t. What if someone comes out here?”

“The only thing I care about right now is you,” he said, lips brushing yours just enough to tease but not enough to take. “I want you to know exactly how much I’ve been thinking about you all night. It’s torture having you close and not being able to touch you.”

“Then why don’t you?” you challenged lightly, your own body tightening in anticipation.

Carlos smirked at your challenge, there was a dark promise in his eyes as he pulled you flush against him, capturing your lips with his. The kiss ignited something deep within you, a need that wasn’t just physical but pulled at your very soul.

He deepened the kiss, and you sighed into him, fingers threading through his curls, wanting more, wanting all of him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, breaking away just enough to trace the line of your chin with his finger. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“Lucky or not, you’re not getting rid of me,” you teased, sweat and laughter alighting the air between you.

“I don’t want to,” he replied, his face serious now, eyes dark and earnest. “You’re the one I want, always.”

A rush of warmth flowed through you, and you found yourself caught between laughter and exhilaration. “So, where do we…?” you began, glancing around the garden, your heart pounding like the engines of the race cars he drove.

“There,” he said, nodding toward a flat stone bench nestled between the blooming azaleas. “Perfect.”

You couldn’t help but giggle again, and Carlos grinned that breathtaking smile that made your heart race even faster. Before you could respond, he swept you into his arms, holding you close as he placed you onto the cool stone surface.

Your body tingled as you felt the warmth radiating from him, the electricity in the air palpably changing as you pulled him back to you, lips crashing against his in a fervent dance.

“Just us now,” he whispered against your lips, and with a smirk, you could hardly believe the sense of freedom you felt.

Tonight, in this garden, when the whole world seemed to recede, there was only Carlos, only you. And the night seemed like it would stretch on forever. . . .

You had just settled comfortably into your cozy corner of your shared home with Carlos when your phone rang.

It was a sunny Saturday, far removed from the high-octane world of Formula 1, and you had spent the day reading and sipping on a cup of chamomile tea, looking forward to Carlos coming home after practice.

“Hey, Charles,” you said, trying to keep your voice upbeat.

You had always appreciated how close your boyfriend was with Charles Leclerc, but the more you got to know him, the more you were aware that he had a serious side, especially when it came to his friends.

“Hey Y/N,” he replied, his tone more serious than usual. “I’m at the paddock with Carlos. He’s not feeling well.”

“Not feeling well? What do you mean?” Your heart raced, your pulse quickening as you imagined the possibilities.

The last thing you wanted was for Carlos to be sick. Your afternoon suddenly shifted from a tranquil day to a worrying reality.

“He just collapsed after getting out of the car,” Charles said, his voice filled with concern. “I think he overworked himself today. You should come out here.”

You felt a rush of panic. “I’ll be there right away. Is he… can he stand?”

“Not really. I’ve got him lying on the ground. He should be okay, but he needs you.”

“Okay. I’m on my way,” you said, already gathering your things as you rushed toward the door. Anxiety pulsed through you as you grabbed your keys, your mind racing with thoughts of Carlos, imagining him weak and vulnerable on the ground amid the chaos of the paddock.

The drive felt eternal. You envisioned Carlos's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about racing, and how his smile could banish any dark thoughts.

The thought of him ill gnawed at you. “Get it together, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Arriving at the paddock, you sprinted toward the chaos, a whirlwind of mechanics and team members working frantically. Your eyes scanned the scene, searching for a familiar face until you spotted Charles, his brows furrowed with concern.

“He’s over here,” he said, leading you to a shaded area where Carlos lay on the ground, looking pale yet conscious. Your heart sank at the sight of him, but relief washed over you when you realized he was still aware of his surroundings.

“Carlos!” you called, rushing to his side. He looked up, his eyes trying to focus as a small smile crept onto his face despite the discomfort.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured weakly.

“What have you done to yourself?” you scolded, crouching beside him and gently brushing the hair off his forehead. “You scared me!”

“I just… pushed a little too hard today,” Carlos admitted, his voice hoarse. “I thought I could handle it.”

Charles chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “I warned him, but you know how stubborn he is.”

“Don’t start,” Carlos groaned, trying to sit up before deciding against it. “I’ll be fine, really. Just need to catch my breath.”

You held his hand, feeling the warmth in his palm even if the rest of him felt cold. “Well, you’re going to take it easy for the rest of the day. No racing, no pushing boundaries.”

“Deal,” Carlos said, his smile returning to his lips. You couldn't help but smile back, relieved that he wasn't in dire straits.

“I’ll make you soup when we get home,” you promised. “Oh, and I brought your favorite snacks.”

Carlos's eyes lit up at the mention of food. “You really know how to win a man’s heart.”

“Just stay focused on healing first, and maybe I’ll share them with you later,” you teased, squeezing his hand gently.

As you all waited for the paramedics to check him over, Carlos leaned back on the ground, looking at you with admiration. “Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

“Always,” you promised, your heart swelling. “Just try not to scare me like this again, okay? I can’t handle it.”

“I’ll work on that,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. You could sense the underlying bond between you deepening, filled with unspoken emotions.

You lay curled up on the couch, a plush blanket wrapped around you like a cocoon, feeling every bit of the cold that had taken residence in your bones.

It was a dreary day outside, the skies painted in hues of gray, and you could hear the faint echoes of the Formula One race festivities happening just outside your front door.

Carlos was deep in the paddock, working on the final preparations for the race, but all you could focus on was the dull ache in your head and the scratchiness in your throat.

You glanced at the clock. It was nearly six o'clock; Carlos should be back soon. You had tried to muster enough energy to at least make him something to eat, but the thought of standing up made the fatigue swell inside you.

Instead, you settled back into the cushions, reaching for your phone to check if he had sent any updates. As if on cue, a message popped up from him.

Carlos: "Just finishing up here. Can’t wait to come home to you. Love you!"

You smiled weakly at your screen, your heart fluttering at the thought of him. It wasn’t long before you heard the familiar click of the door, followed by the shuffling sound of Carlos’s shoes.

He appeared in the living room moments later, his expression shifting from exhaustion to concern when he spotted you.

“Oh no, mi amor,” he said, rushing to your side. He knelt down beside the couch, brushing a thumb across your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Just a little cold,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant, though your voice felt raw and shaky. “How was the paddock?”

Carlos stood up and grabbed a tiny towel from the kitchen, dampening it before placing it on your forehead. “The paddock was noisy and chaotic. You didn’t miss much, except for a few rumors about the team. But you? You’re the most important thing on my mind right now.”

You couldn’t help but smile. There was something so comforting about the way he effortlessly switched from race-mode to nurturing boyfriend.

“I’m just glad you’re back. I have to say, being alone while feeling like this isn’t the most fun I’ve ever had.”

He chuckled softly, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room, and sat on the edge of the couch, looking down at you with those intense brown eyes of his.

“I’m glad you’re resting, but I can’t leave you like this. I’ve got your soup from last time and some herbal tea I brought back from the paddock for you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to go out of your way,” you said, feeling a warmth stir within you, annoyed at how sweetly he always insisted on taking care of you.

“Of course, I did,” he replied, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “Your health is my top priority. Tell me how you feel.”

“Like I’ve been run over by a car,” you joked, failing to hide a cough that erupted afterward. “And like I’m stuck in a room without food.”

“I can fix that.” He flashed a grin, and just the sight of it lifted your spirits despite the fog of illness clouding your mind.

He sprung up from the couch, his presence like a whirlwind moving through the kitchen.

You listened to the sounds of clinking pots and scrambling movements as he maneuvered around your shared home. The aroma of garlic and broth filled the air, a mixture that made your stomach grumble with unexpected hunger. You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to ease the fatigue that weighed down your limbs.

Minutes passed, and soon enough, Carlos returned holding a steaming bowl of soup and a small cup of herbal tea. He carefully placed the bowl on the sofa’s armrest before handing you the cup.

“Here, drink this first. It should help your throat,” he said, watching you as you took a cautious sip. The warmth spread through your chest, soothing the discomfort. “How’s that?”

“Better, actually. You always know how to pick the right remedies,” you replied, sipping carefully as you looked into his eyes, feeling adequately grateful.

He smiled, pleased, and took a seat beside you, lifting the bowl of soup to your lips. “Now let’s get some nourishment into you. Open up.”

You let out a laugh at his silliness. “You sound like a parent feeding a child.”

“Well, someone has to make sure you eat,” he rebutted playfully, taking a spoonful for himself and nudging it closer to you. “Besides, I happen to be an excellent caregiver. Ask the team.”

You laughed but complied, allowing him to feed you. Each small bite of soup made your stomach feel more alive. “You really do care too much, you know that?”

Carlos’s eyes softened, a tender look sweeping across his face. “Caring for you is the easiest thing in the world. Look at you; you’re adorable, even when you’re sick. I can’t help but want to take care of you.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words, and the drowsiness seemed to fade away momentarily. “You’re the adorable one, you know.”

“Is this a competition now?” he teased, feeding you another spoonful. “Because I’m winning.”

As the soup slowly diminished, laughter filled the space between you two, easing the sickly clouds in your head. The warmth in your chest was now anchored by his company, and just being near him felt like a balm to your aching body.

After the last remnants of soup were consumed, you laid back against the couch, your eyelids drooping. “Thanks, Carlos. I really needed this.”

“Anytime, mi amor,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Now let’s get you tucked in. You need your rest.”

“What about you? Aren’t you tired after all that?” you asked, watching him as he arranged pillows behind your head.

“I’ll be just fine,” he replied lightly, climbing onto the couch beside you. “As long as I’m with you, I’m always energized.”

Curled up under the blanket, you nestled your head against his shoulder, allowing the heaviness of sleep to pull you down into its comforting grip.

Carlos’s warmth enveloped you, and as his fingers lightly traced the back of your hand, you felt safe and cared for, even in your vulnerable state.

“Get some rest, and I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered, voice low and soothing, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

In that moment, everything felt right.

And as you drifted away, you knew, without a doubt, that you were exactly where you were meant to be—with Carlos, the man who would take care of you, on and off the track. . . .

As you pull into the driveway of Carlos’ childhood home, your palms are a mixture of sweaty nervousness and anticipation. Carlos glances at you, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, and you can see the warmth in his eyes, reassuring you. “Are you ready?” he asks, shifting the gear into park.

You take a deep breath, glancing out at the modest brick house. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, forcing a smile that barely conceals your anxiety. You’ve heard Carlos talk about his family countless times, but stepping into their world feels monumental.

Carlos nods, eyes shining with a curious blend of pride and fear. “Just be yourself,” he says, his voice steady. “They’re going to love you.”

You step out of the car, allowing the early evening sun to bathe you in warm light. As you walk towards the front door, the sound of barking draws your attention. A small, scruffy dog bolts to the edge of the yard, tail wagging furiously. “That must be Piñón,” Carlos chuckles, grinning. “Just wait until you meet him.”

You hunch down instinctively, and soon enough, Piñón leaps into your arms, showering your face with slobbery kisses. Carlos chuckles at the spectacle. “He likes you already!”

Laughter bubbles up from your chest, lightening the heavy atmosphere in your stomach. “I think I’ll keep him,” you tease, giving Piñón a belly rub as he squirms with delight.

Before Carlos can respond, the front door swings open with a creak, revealing an older man with a broad smile and deep-set eyes—Carlos Sr. “What’s this?” he booms, taking in the scene with amusement. “Are we adopting a new family member?”

You straighten up, releasing Piñón, who trots eagerly toward his owner. “Um, I’m actually here to meet the rest of the family,” you say, a hint of nervous laughter escaping you. “I’m—”

“Whispering sweet nothings to my dog, I see!” Carlos Sr. interrupts, wrapping you in a warmth-filled embrace before you can finish your sentence. “Welcome! I’m Carlos Sr. You must be the enchanting one my son has been raving about!”

“Dad!” Carlos playfully scolds, his cheeks flushing a subtle red as you smile.

You look between father and son, feeling the love radiate from both. “It’s lovely to meet you, sir,” you say, awkward but earnest.

“Come inside! Come inside!” Carlos Sr. gestures, leading you both into the cozy home decorated with family portraits. The living room is filled with the scent of something delicious simmering in the kitchen.

“Blanca!” Carlos Sr. calls out, and a moment later, a bubbly young woman appears, her hair cascading in curls as she flashes a wide smile. “Is that you, Carlos? And who’s this?”

You feel Carlos’ hand slip into yours as he beams proudly. “Blanca, this is—”

“Your girlfriend! I’ve heard so much about you!” she interrupts, wrapping you in her embrace before you can respond. “Welcome to the family!”

“Thank you,” you manage, caught between shock and delight.

“Where’s Mom?” Carlos Sr. asks, glancing toward the kitchen. “She should be here to meet the new addition!”

Just then, Reyes Vázquez de Castro strides into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her presence immediate and commanding. “Carlos! You’re here!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling as she moves past Carlos to envelop you in a warm hug. It feels as if she’s been waiting for this moment forever.

“Wow, I feel like I’ve been hugged by a whirlwind,” you laugh, stepping back a little. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Vázquez de Castro.”

“Just call me Reyes!” she replies, her eyes twinkling. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally meet you! I’ve heard all about you.”

“Only the wonderful stuff, I hope!” you joke, glancing at Carlos who is attempting to hide his amusement.

“Absolutely. Only the best,” Reyes laughs, giving Carlos a mock glare. “Now, come help me in the kitchen. Dinner will be ready soon, and I could use a second pair of hands.”

“Sure! What do you need?” Carlos replies, slipping away to help his mother.

You hang back, feeling the warmth of the family’s connection wash over you. Blanca sidles up next to you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, how did you and Carlos meet?”

You share the story of the serendipitous meeting at the local coffee shop, how an accidental order mix-up sparked a series of events that led to your blossoming romance. Blanca giggles at the details. “It sounds like a movie! I can’t wait to see him in action when he tells it to all of us at dinner.”

Soon, the living room is filled with the aroma of a deliciously simmering stew, and the family gathers around the dining table. You sit beside Carlos, who reaches for your hand beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze as Reyes serves up generous portions of food.

The conversation flows easily, stories of Carlos’ childhood, Blanca’s mischievous antics, and heartfelt anecdotes from Carlos Sr. The laughter bounces off the walls, wrapping you up in the kind of warmth you’d always imagined family dinners would emit.

“Tell us something about yourself,” Carlos’ mom prompts, her approach direct, yet kind.

You look around, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but a swell of confidence rushes through you. “Well, I grew up in a small town too, with a family that loves to laugh over dinner. My parents would host big gatherings; it was chaotic but full of love.”

Carlos’ eyes sparkle with delight as he listens, absorbing every word. “I can see where you get your warmth from,” he adds, and the affection in his tone makes your heart swell.

After dinner, Piñón curls by your feet, and the family sits around the coffee table indulging in dessert—homemade flan. “This is amazing, Reyes!” you compliment, taking another bite.

“Gracias! I’m glad you like it,” she beams.

“Mom taught me everything I know,” Carlos adds, leaning back with confidence.

“Except how to clean up messes,” Blanca chimes in, laughter spilling around the table.

After sharing more smiles, Carlos leans closer. “So, what do you think?” he whispers.

You glance around the room, Your heart brimming with warmth and belonging. “I think I’m never leaving,” you reply, grinning. “You all make it feel like home.”

The evening winds down, and you help clean up amid playful banter. Carlos Sr. pauses at the sink, looking at you with sincerity that pins you in place. “You know, Carlos has been different since he met you. In a good way,” he says, and you can feel the weight of their approval in those words.

Your heart swelled with gratitude. “Thank you, Carlos Sr. That really means a lot to me,” you said softly, feeling the genuine affection radiating from the family.

He nodded, his smile deepening. “Just making sure you know—you’re not just a date. You’re becoming part of this family.”

As the night draws to a close, you find yourself holding Carlos’ hand tightly, feeling grateful for this family that had so warmly embraced you.

In that moment, with laughter and love resonating in the air, it dawns on you—you’re not just here as Carlos’ date; you’re becoming part of something special.

"Okay, enough mushiness! Who's ready for some card games?" Blanca interrupted, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I hope you’re aware that I’m the reigning champion and will defend my title fiercely!”

"Only because you cheat," Carlos teased, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Somehow, I always end up providing her with winning cards.”

You laughed, feeling that beautiful tension between them — a comfortable bond born from years of sibling rivalry and an unspoken love that filled the air.

As the evening wound down and the games began, you settled into the rhythms of the Vázquez de Castro household, needing no script to feel at home among them.

Hours melted away in bursts of laughter and competitive groans as you all settled around the dining table. Piñón sprawled at your feet, his tail thumping rhythmically against the floor whenever he caught your eye.

“Okay, okay. Last hand of the night!” Blanca declared, shuffling cards with a practiced flair as you prepared for what you hoped was a winning hand. Carlos leaned close, his breath warm against your ear, making you shiver in a pleasant way.

"You're going to win, right? Because I’m going to blame the loss on you if I don't.” He winked, his teasing masking a deeper affection that made you blush.

You shot him a challenging look. “Well, if you lose, you have to dance with me later.”

“Only if you promise to lead,” he shot back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the playful banter between you two.

As the game progressed, the laughter only intensified, but it inevitably came to an end. With a dramatic flourish, Blanca tossed her cards on the table, victorious as expected. “Ha! And that’s how it’s done!” she exclaimed, holding up her winning hand.

“Fine, fine—the reigning champion takes her victory lap,” Carlos said sarcastically, rolling his eyes dramatically, which only made you laugh harder.

“Let’s do the dance now! I think that’s only fair!” Blanca prodded, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Carlos groaned, “I can't believe this is happening. You know, I can’t dance to save my life?”

“Oh, come on! Don’t let your reputation be tarnished! Besides, if you can’t dance, no one will know because I’ll be too busy saving my own ass over here,” you replied, your cheeky comeback earning you a sound laugh from Blanca.

The music began to play softly, and Carlos extended a hand to yours. “Alright, lead the way, my esteemed dancer,” he said, mock bowing as you both made your way to the living room.

With a playful shove, you took charge, attempting to lead him through a modified waltz. Each spin and turn brought stifled laughter as Carlos fumbled, stepping on your toes. "This isn’t a classical ball! You’re allowed to relax a little," you said, pulling him gently.

"Let it be known that I’m a terrible dancer," he said, and in that moment, your worlds collided, the laughter easing into a beautiful closeness.

When the last note faded, you both stood there, gazing at each other for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. You could feel the warmth of his hands lingering on your waist, his eyes searching yours for something you barely understood.

"Wow, I wouldn’t trade this night for anything," Carlos said softly, his tone shifting into something sincere and serious that drew you in.

“Me neither,” you whispered back.

As the night drew to a close, you settled with Carlos on the couch, blanket draped around your shoulders, and Piñón curled at your feet, snoring softly. The moments spent with them—filled with easy laughter and unexpected tenderness—made your heart ache with gratitude.

“I’m glad we stayed the night,” you said, looking up at Carlos, who was now reclining against the couch, his fingers brushing yours. “Being here really feels like home.”

Carlos squeezed your hand gently. “You’re not just a guest here. You really are part of this family already.” His voice was steady, and in that moment, you could see how he felt—how the walls you both wore were starting to dissolve, making way for something deeper.

The comfort of that sentiment wrapped around you like a warm embrace, yet the weight of those words lingered in the air. You leaned into Carlos, resting your head on his shoulder, and he moved closer, intertwining your fingers.

All of a sudden, you were no longer just his fake girlfriend or a visitor but someone who belonged—wrapped in the embrace of his family.

With laughter and love resonating through the home, you realized you were part of something special, and as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were right where you were meant to be. . . .

[peachdues]

Work has been kicking my ass the last couple of weeks, so I haven’t really had time to write. This is all I’ve got for y’all right now 🤍

Lovers of Compass!Sanemi and Reader discussing books, rejoice. They’re still a couple of fucking nerds (no matter how horny)

It’s almost one in the morning when your phone buzzes.

A message; one from the only person you text, who also happens to be your favorite. On your screen is a picture of the front cover of the book you’d given Sanemi before he left the day before; beneath it, the chat bubble signals he’s sending a follow up.

You caught up yet? Sanemi’s text reads.

You toss your own book to the side, straightening up in bed. Though no one is around to see, a smile unfurls across your lips and your thumbs hurry across your phone’s keyboard.

How far are you?

Sanemi’s reply is instant. Halfway. Can’t finish tonight but I’ve got a few things I need to discuss right the fuck now.

You glance at the time. It’s nearing one-thirty, and your alarm is set for six. Dragging yourself out of bed after less than five hours of sleep is a kind of stupidity you know better than to indulge.

You hit the call button anyway.

Sanemi picks up on the second ring. “I’ve got five minutes,” he warns, voice low, like he’s wary of being overheard. “So if I hang up all of a sudden, it’s ‘cuz of work —“

“Hi to you too,” you tease, settling back against your pillows.

A pause. “Hey there, beautiful,” you can hear his smile even through the phone. “You okay?”

“Better, now that I hear your voice,” and you can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed by the cheesiness of the admission. Texting him is one thing; hearing him, actually hearing that wonderfully gravelly voice of his soothes a tension in your limbs you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying.

He’s okay. He’s unharmed — safe, even. For now, that has to be enough.

Sanemi’s laugh comes through the phone as a staticky exhale of breath. “Normally, I’d ask what you’re wearing, but I’m dead fuckin’ serious — if they don’t win this war —“

“Which battle did you get to?” You sit up, wracking your memory for the approximate place Sanemi has reached in his book. “Did the cadre reunite?”

“No, half of ‘em are still across the fucking continent.”

“Ohhhh, yeah. Okay. I know where you are.” You tug at a loose thread on your comforter. “I can’t say anything. You’ll just have to keep reading.”

“God dammit,” and you imagine he’s rolling his eyes, maybe even glaring down at the book in distaste. “Shit’s got me stressed the fuck out. I don’t know how she’s gonna wrap this up —“

You giggle as he launches into a rant over loose plot ends. Squaring the mental image of your boyfriend — the one currently ranting about the various loose plot ends to still be tied up in his current read — with the one you know must be sitting in some alley or warehouse, waiting to do things he’ll never speak of, feels impossible at times. But here, for this small moment, Sanemi isn’t a Hashira. He’s just a boy, spouting off theories and guesses as to his book’s ending with an almost childlike enthusiasm. Here, there are no orders to leave, no bruised knuckles or bloodstained hands he has to scrub clean in your bathroom sink.

It’s just you and him; your Sanemi. Your wonderful, gentle, sweet Sanemi.

“Ah shit,” he cuts his impassioned tirade off with sigh. There’s a rustling on the other end of the line, but it’s too muffled to be distinguishable. “‘M gonna have to go —“

Just like that, the moment ends and the smile you’d been wearing slides from your face.“Oh.” And you hate how small your voice sounds. “That’s okay — I’m glad I got to talk to you for a sec.”

The rustling stops. “Me too,” Sanemi says softly. “Fuck, I miss you.”

This is the part you hate most; the part when he has to stop being yours and go be theirs, no matter how much you know he doesn’t want to.

Your moments with him are pennies to the hours the Corps gets to demand. As long as they keep their claws in him, this will always be how your moments with him end: in abrupt, hushed voices, Sanemi’s shoulders sagging with a guilt he shouldn’t have to feel.

You grimace. This forced distance between you is bad enough, and you don’t want him to feel worse than he likely already does. You knew what you signed up for by telling him you loved him. You can’t be mad for getting exactly what you’d known to expect. And besides, your ire is reserved for the Corps and the Corps alone. Sanemi doesn’t deserve it. You can’t leave him on your sour note.

He’ll be yours again soon enough, even if only temporarily. That has to be enough, for now. Better to give him something to look forward to, rather than reminding him — and yourself — of what you’re both currently without.

“If you still wanted to know — I’m wearing your shirt. Only your shirt.” You smirk. “A thong, too. The lacy green one.”

A favorite of Sanemi’s, as he’d mentioned a handful of times. One that always set his eyes wide, made his tongue flick out to wet his lips.

Your distraction works. A strangled groan crackles through the phone. “You’re killin’ me, woman.”

[illbegottenfaith]

lucky pt 2 - theo nott x reader

after the Felix Felicis incident, your relationship with theo has dramatically changed, for better and for worse

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - by popular demand! rip my title tho the best alternative I could come up with was ‘feminine ass-kicking’ but idk if that’s too out there. also I’ve started part 3 too! (which should be the final part) this was kind of inspired by gilmore girls season 6 :)

tropes/warnings - academic rivals to lovers, angst, slow burn, miscommunication

word count - 2.1k

The Felix Felicis incident had given the both of you much to think about. Outwardly, you maintained the appearance that nothing had changed between the two of you, taking snipes at each other every now and then. But every night, before you’d fall asleep, your mind would wander back to that evening at the Astronomy Tower, the sight of Theo and the harsh contours of his face softened by the forgiving setting sun. Every night, he asks if you have anything else to say. Every night, you shake your head.

And as much as you’d like to pretend otherwise, things had changed between you. Theo became more reserved, somehow, less determined to spar with you. Your fights didn’t hold anywhere near the spark they once did. And you hated it. You hated that it bothered you, you hated that it upset you, you hated that it was all you could think about every time you were in the same classroom as him. It just wasn’t fair.

What also wasn’t fair was your entire group falling sick the day before an extremely crucial Potions project was due. They were all more than apologetic, but it didn’t change the fact that months worth of work to complete in one night if you wanted even a semblance of a chance at passing.

Which was how Theodore Nott found you in the library late one night, pouring over five gnarly tomes on Potions from the Medieval era, writing what looked like three essays at once. You flinched when you heard a noise near the bookshelves, and your mood wasn’t much improved when you saw who it was.

“Trying to read every book in one night, L/N?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. After weeks of stunted conversation, now that it was just the two of them, he was suddenly feeling chatty?

“I'm busy. Buzz off.”

Ignoring you, Theo crept closer, tilting his head to read what you were haphazardly scribbling.

“The Potions project? But we started that months ago. And it’s due tomorrow.”

You swept the papers up out of his sight. You were already in a testy mood to begin with and you were in no mood to have him crow over your bad luck.

“What part of ‘buzz off’ don’t you get?”

“Where are your groupmates?”

“Sick.”

“Sick?”

“They all went on some Hogsmeade trip together, the whole lot of them. They all caught it from each other and they’re supposed to be stupidly contagious.”

“But their reports should be fine.”

“They were, until Madam Pomfrey declared them a biohazard.” Your head was beginning to hurt from the bottled-up frustration. You knew it wasn’t their fault for falling sick, but now you had to pull an all-nighter just so you wouldn’t fail. You stood and walked past him to the shelves, pulling out any and every book that remotely looked like it might help. 

You glanced at the clock, mentally calculating how much time you’d need. There was no way you could get it all done by 9 am. Feeling quite proud of yourself for successfully giving Theo the same cold shoulder he had been giving you the past couple of weeks, you walked to the library telephone and started dialing the number to Slughorn’s office. One of the only people who could help you now was Jeeves, Slughorn’s teaching assistant, provided he was in a good enough mood.

“Jeeves, hi. Yes, I know it’s late, but I was wondering if you could delay the Potions project submission by just an hour? I’m sure Slughorn wouldn’t mind. It’s just my entire team fell sick all at once, and Madam Pomfrey threw out everything they’ve touched in the past three days, including their reports. I know it's due 9 am but couldn’t you bend the rule a little, just this once? For me?”

You rubbed your forehead anxiously, an unpleasant expression on your face as you tried to follow whatever Jeeves was yammering about punctuality. When he moved on to the importance of personal accountability, you felt like you were going to combust if you didn’t shut him up soon.

“Y’know, Jeeves,” you interrupted with a dramatic sigh, dropping your voice, “just the other day I was thinking about that one Quidditch match you had played a couple of years back. Yes, that one game you subbed in for the Chaser? I have to say, you’re no slouch yourself out on the pitch. You sure look like you know your way around a broom. Yes, exactly, way better than those oafs on the team. I always thought it was a shame you didn’t make the cut - one hour. Yes, yes, that’s all I need. Thank you, thank you!”

You hung up, already feeling much more hopeful with the one-hour extension. All that was left to do was slave away for the rest of the night, and by morning you’d have a more than acceptable report ready.

“…what was that?”

You started, having nearly forgotten who was with you. “What was what?” You asked, half-distracted, once again absorbed in rearranging the layout of your Potions project.

“That, with the - ‘you look like you know your way around a broom?’ Really?”

You glanced at Theo, frowning. “Well, how do you get what you want?”

You turned your gaze back to the book splayed out in front of you, missing the brief look of longing that passed over Theo’s face. “Hmm. Bribery, mainly.”

“Right,” you said slowly, a hint of sarcasm in your tone underneath the flurry of activity. “That trust fund isn’t going to spend itself, now is it?”

“My trust fund doesn’t kick in ‘til I’m 25, tesoro.”

You wanted to kick yourself when your heart fluttered over the stupidly endearing pet name. You didn’t realise how much you missed it. “Oh, oh, of course. Mr. Moneybags here is just absolutely rolling in it even without his trust fund. How could I forget?”

“Mr. Moneybags? That’s the best you can come up with?”

You huffed without any real annoyance. You walked over to where Theo was lounging as he lazily watched you spin like a top between the bookshelves. He had the decency to sit up slightly as you approached and dumped the stack of papers into his lap.

“Look, Nott, I’m on a time crunch here. So either help me or get out.”

Theo looked up at you without a trace of mockery in his otherwise teasing blue eyes. You willed yourself to not look away. 

“Yes, ma'am.”

You made the mistake of holding his gaze. A beat passed, then two. It seemed that it was surprisingly impossible for either of you to look away. Finally, you snapped out of it, mentally giving yourself a good shake as you hurried out of his magnetic field back to the table. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought you were flirting with him.

“Wha -?”

“Toast. From breakfast.”

You glanced around the room bleary-eyed, seizing Theo’s wrist a little harder than necessary as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, last night had gone better than you could have ever hoped. It helped to have another pair of hands and a brain that was almost as good as yours. Unfortunately, you must have nodded off at some point, 

Cursing as you finally made out the time on his watch, you peeled off the piece of parchment stuck to your face and continued writing, even as every muscle in your palm protested. Theo rolled his eyes and stuck the toast in your mouth, which you mindlessly nibbled on for the next hour or so. 

When you were finally done, you stuck your group’s names on the cover page and the two of you hurried down to Slughorn’s office a little before 10 o clock. Jeeves, good man that he was, was still in. But your relief was short-lived.

Jeeves did an insufferably exaggerated impression of reading the time as you walked in. “It’s 2 past 10. I’m afraid I can’t accept your submission.”

This was it. You reached your limit. You weren’t running on what was at most 2 hours of sleep just for some self-important dimwit of a teaching assistant to refuse your submission.

You grabbed the collar of Jeeves’ shirt, manhandling him with hours' worth of frustration. “Listen here, Jeeves. You will accept my group’s submission if you want to walk out of here with every part of your anatomy intact. You will take these essays I have here and you will accept them graciously, Merlin help you if you don’t.”

“What happened to using your feminine wiles?” asked Theo, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Yeah, well, now I’m more in the mood for a feminine ass-kicking. Jeeves, come on. ”

You only released him when Theo placed a calming hand on your wrist. He reached into his pocket, offering something to a very red-faced and highly affronted Jeeves.

“C’mon, Jeeves. Maybe we could make this more worth your while.”

You hesitated, torn. On the one hand, you were raised better than to bribe people or accept financial aid, especially when you didn’t really need it. On the other hand, this project was worth 40% of your grade and Jeeves was being a little bitch. 

Jeeves mulled over the coins in his palm, taking his sweet time appraising them. Just as it looked like he was about to ask for something a little more, you slammed a hand on his desk.

“Alright, fine, hand it over.”

Once you’d finally successfully submitted your project, the two of you walked out of Slughorn’s office in a daze. Without the stress of the impending deadline to act as a buffer between you, a certain awkwardness started to set in. Theo had his hands in his pockets, rubbing at a scuffed patch on the floor with his shoe.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you started, but he waved off your protests. Still, no one pulls an all-nighter for just about anyone.

“So how much did you give him?”

Theo sighed. “L/N.”

But you were already pulling out your coin purse. “It can’t have been more than what I have on me now.”

“Y/N.” You stopped counting out your coins. He was looking at you strangely, like he didn’t understand what he was doing either. “Forget it. Really.”

Reluctantly, you pocketed your coin purse. A hysterical sort of giddiness was starting to set in. “We did it.”

“You did it.”

Maybe it was the long night of endless writing or your grumbling stomach. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you now, with a smile so sincere like he was genuinely so proud of you. Whatever it was, you took a step towards him, and then another before throwing your arms around his neck.

It was a little less dignified than you would have hoped, what with you trembling with barely any sleep and the vestiges of caffeine-induced adrenaline and him having the audacity of being a whole head taller than you since sixth year. But he steadied you before you could tip back, his arms resting around your waist. You had never shaken hands, much less hugged each other, but something about it felt so warm, comforting, familiar. The feel of his solid body pressed against yours didn’t feel so terrible.

But as you pulled apart, you caught sight of his expression, and your face fell. He wasn’t smiling like you, not anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, immediately feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. He still wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look angry either. He looked - you couldn’t tell how he looked. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear almost regretfully, before turning to leave.

“Don’t.”

Theo paused. He didn’t turn to face you.

“Don’t do this, Nott. Don’t be cold. Don’t be distant.”

He adjusted the shoulder strap of his satchel. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was nervous. “I have Charms to get to.” He turned his head slightly but not enough to meet your gaze. “You should get a proper breakfast.”

And then he left, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. As if the last twelve hours hadn’t occurred. As if he hadn’t felt the void festering between you the past couple of weeks.

As if he didn’t care about you.