#but i will try my best to write as much as possible

[sabsberries]

back to you - h.s.

summary - harry and y/n are forced into close quarters unexpectedly, but, despite the tension, it was the best thing that could've happened to them.

w.c. - 5.9k

warnings - swearing, use of Y/N, SMUT, fingering, p in v, oral (fem! receiving), pussy spitting, bondage, happy ending (sorry to my angst lovers)

part 1 can be found here - this also took me a week to write, and I think it's obvious where I finally got motivated...

Harry was fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

Despite both him and Y/N agreeing that their breakup was mutual, deep down, the pair knew she had been the one who insisted and fought for the breakup to take place, and he just went along with it to keep her happy. She broke up with him.

Harry also knew that he was too full of pride, and ego, to tell his friends that the relationship he claimed 'shaped him as a person', and 'gave him a reason to wake up every morning', had ended, and that it was partially (mainly) his fault. He stayed silent until it became impossible to ignore, and reluctantly made the phone call to his friends and family, trying his hardest to keep the embarrassing details to a minimum.

So when he got the panicked text from Sarah at seven o'clock at night, asking if he could come over and babysit because Mitch had managed to break his finger falling over in the shower, Harry was all in.

He jumped out of bed, pulled on the clothes he was wearing the day prior so that no one could tell he had spent his Friday laying in bed watching shitty movies, and rushed into his car.

However, the last thing Harry expected to see when he finally arrived was Sarah's car missing, and Y/N's car in its place. He paused in the driveway, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Had they forgotten that they called him? Was he taking too long so they called Y/N as a last resort instead?

He pulled up next to her car, paused, and turned down the radio. As much as he hated to admit it, even seeing her car was causing his chest to tighten and his throat to ache, and the nagging voice in the back of his mind was slowly getting louder, begging for him to put his seatbelt back on, turn around, and go home.

After taking a few minutes to compose himself, Harry hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut and reaching over to place his palm on the bonnet of Y/N's. "Oh, fuck," he mumbled. "Still warm."

He began making his way towards the front door, his brain spewing possible escape routes with every step he took. The door swung open before he was even arm length away.

"You're here! Did you find the house oka-- Harry." Y/N cut herself off, a half unscrewed bottle of wine in one hand, and the doorknob in the other.

"Me." He deadpanned, throwing her a tightlipped smile. "Expecting someone else?" He shimmied past her, ignoring the way she looked like a guilty teenager who just got caught replacing their parents vodka with water, and pulled off his coat.

"Uhm.. no. Not really. Just, y'know, pizza..." Her voice trailed off unconvincingly.

"Pizza?"

"Yeah? What's wrong with me ordering pizza?" She questioned, slamming the door shut and turning to look at him, an evident accusatory look on her face mirroring that in her voice.

"Nothing. What toppings? I'm starving. And finish opening that bottle." He grumbled. "Where's the little man?"

"Um, pizza is margarita, I can't finish opening the bottle because I can't find the corkscrew, and he is fast asleep upstairs with some white noise playing." 

Harry merely raised his eyebrows in what was either shock, surprise, or a mix of both, and made his way over to the kitchen. Y/N trailed after him, grumbling something about how he hadn't even said "Hello," to her yet.

"Corkscrew's in the drawer next to the fridge." Harry explained, pulling it out and showing it to her. "Pass me the bottle."

"So," Harry scrunched his face up slightly as he pulled out the cork, smirking at the satisfying 'Pop!' that followed suit, "Clearly it wasn't pizza that you were expecting at the door."

Y/N paused, and turned her head towards him ever so slightly. "What?" Her voice was slightly breathy as she forced the word out as quickly as possible, and her eyes were locked on Harry's smug face.

"Earlier at the door. You opened it, saw me, and started stuttering about pizza."

Y/N scoffed. "I didn't stutter. I don't stutter. You just caught me off guard. That's all."

"I caught you off guard?" Harry questioned, reaching to grab two wine glasses and pouring in a hefty amount. "Is that all?"

"I don't know what you-- thanks. I don't know what you want me to say!" Y/N defended, grabbing the wine glass he was offering to her and taking a gulp.

Harry stayed silent, and resorted to taking small sips from his glass. For the first time in almost a year, the silence between them wasn't hostile. There were no lingering glances, no scoffs when the other moved, and, the best in Harry's opinion, his brain wasn't fighting itself trying to think of things to get her to finally talk to him.

The noise of the doorbell rang throughout the house, contrasting the silence and causing Harry's head to rattle slightly.

"I'll grab that." Y/N smiled weakly, passing her glass to Harry for him to refill, and rushing over to the door.

Harry stayed behind in the kitchen, swirling the wine in his glass as he leaned against the counter. The sound of muffled voices at the door echoed faintly through the house, and he couldn’t help the way his ears pricked up, trying to catch pieces of the conversation. He knew it was just the pizza, but his stomach still did that irritating little flip it always seemed to do around her. Old habits die hard, apparently.

Y/N returned a moment later with a pizza box balanced in one hand and a slight smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Dinner is served,” she announced, setting the box down on the counter and reaching for her wine glass.

Harry arched a brow, eyeing the box. “Margarita, you said?”

“Yep. Nice and simple.” She opened the box and grabbed a slice, her movements relaxed. "Much better than your weird combinations."

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes as he reached for his own slice. “It’s not weird, it’s called flavour. But thanks for sparing me the judgement tonight.”

“Oh, I still judge you, don’t worry,” she teased, taking a bite.

That earned a laugh from him—an actual, genuine laugh that surprised them both. The awkward tension that had been hovering between them like a storm cloud seemed to crack, just a little. Harry glanced over at her, catching the faint flicker of amusement in her eyes as she chewed.

"How come you're here?" Harry asked, finally taking a bite from the pizza.

Y/N looked at him for a few seconds, almost as if she were coming up with an answer, before she finally spoke. "I had a date."

Harry stopped chewing. "A date?"

"Mhmm. I was getting ready when Sarah called me and told me what happened, and asked if I could come here and babysit. I told her I could, but I had to cancel my date, and she told me to just move it to here. She never mentioned you, though. That's why I didn't expect to see you."

"Ahh." Harry nodded his head, and continued eating his pizza, focusing on unclenching his jaw so that it wouldn't be so difficult to chew. "And, I've been here for, what, fifteen minutes now. Where's the lucky guy?"

"I cancelled." Y/N pursed her lips. "I actually used one of your excuses."

Harry scoffed, "When have I ever used an excuse with you?"

Y/N straightened up and looked at him. "Our second date! Last year you told me that you actually weren't sure about me because you thought I was an undercover fan lying about not listening to One Direction, so you texted me and said you had twisted your ankle and took some strong pain meds to make you pass out!"

Harry nearly choked on his pizza, his laugh bursting out before he could stop it. “I did not!” he exclaimed, though his face betrayed him as he tried to suppress a smirk.

Y/N raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, you absolutely did. And do you know how ridiculous I felt when I saw paparazzi pictures of you the next morning walking out of the gym? With no ankle brace in sight, might I add.”

Harry let his head fall back against the kitchen cabinet, groaning in embarrassment. “Alright, alright, I’ll admit it. That was bad. But in my defence, you were way too cool about the whole ‘not a fan of the band’ thing. It threw me off!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of a smile playing on her lips. “Right, because I had to be a crazed fan to want to go out with you? Very logical.”

“Well,” Harry said, dragging out the word with a teasing lilt, “you have to admit, I’ve met my fair share of undercover Directioners.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that. “True, but I wasn’t one of them. I genuinely didn’t care about the band.” She paused, then added cheekily, “Still don’t, actually.”

“Harsh,” Harry muttered, clutching his chest dramatically as if she’d just wounded him.

The laughter between them came easier now, the pizza nearly forgotten as they both leaned against the counter, sipping wine and trading playful jabs.

“Okay, but seriously,” Harry said after a moment, his expression softening. “You cancelled your date. Was it really because of me?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. “Not entirely,” she admitted. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting to see you, but I guess… when I realised you’d be here, it didn’t feel right to have someone else show up, too.”

Harry swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling over him. “Why not?”

She met his gaze then, her voice quieter, more vulnerable. “Because I didn’t want to make things harder than they already are between us. We’re barely managing this, Harry. Adding someone else to the mix just felt… unnecessary.”

He nodded slowly, his grip tightening on his glass. “I get it,” he said, his voice just as soft.

For a moment, the air between them grew heavy again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It felt like something was being acknowledged—something neither of them was ready to say out loud yet.

Harry cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Well, thanks for sparing me the awkwardness of a third wheel situation, I guess.”

Y/N smiled faintly, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “Anytime.”

They clinked glasses again, and just like that, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. By the time the pizza box was empty and the wine bottle drained, they were sprawled out on the sofa, laughing like they hadn’t in ages.

The laughter eventually died down, leaving a comfortable silence between them as the night settled in. The living room felt warmer somehow, though it could’ve just been the wine coursing through Harry’s veins—or maybe the way Y/N had let her guard down for the first time in what felt like forever.

Harry stretched his legs out in front of him, his socked feet brushing against hers where she had tucked herself into the corner of the sofa. He didn’t pull away, and neither did she.

“Remember how we used to do this?” Y/N said softly, her voice carrying a nostalgic edge.

Harry turned his head to look at her, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. Except back then, I think we still liked each other.”

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “We did. Most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Harry agreed, his smile fading slightly. He let his gaze drop to the rim of his empty glass, his thumb tracing its edge. “I miss that, you know.”

Y/N stilled, her expression unreadable as she studied him. “What, the pizza?” she joked, trying to lighten the moment, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her.

Harry chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “No, not the pizza. I miss... us. Just being around you. Without all the... mess.”

The room seemed to grow quieter, the sound of the baby monitor’s faint white noise the only thing breaking the stillness. Y/N swallowed, setting her glass down on the coffee table. “It turned to shit pretty quick, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted, leaning back into the sofa and running a hand through his hair. “But it wasn’t all bad. I mean, we had good bits too, right?”

Y/N smiled faintly, nodding. “We had a lot of good bits. You were... you are a big part of my life, Harry. That hasn’t changed.”

The way she said his name made his chest ache. It wasn’t angry or cold like it had been before. It was soft, almost hesitant, like she was letting herself feel something she wasn’t sure she should.

“You’re still a big part of mine, too,” Harry said quietly, his green eyes locking onto hers. “I know I never said it enough, but I’m sorry for... for everything. For how things ended.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed slightly, her lips parting as if to speak, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned her head back against the sofa, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “It wasn’t just you, Harry. I wasn’t perfect either. I didn’t know how to handle us falling apart, so I pushed you away.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly fight to stay, did I?” he countered, his voice tinged with regret.

The quiet stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Harry shifted closer, his knee brushing against hers. He didn’t know if it was the wine or the way the room felt so heavy with memories, but he needed her to know he still cared.

“I miss you, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes searching his. “I miss you too,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Harry’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time in months, it felt like they weren’t running from the truth anymore.

Before either of them could say anything else, a soft cry came through the baby monitor, breaking the moment. Y/N sighed, pushing herself up from the sofa.

“I’ll check on him,” she said, her voice steady, though her cheeks were flushed.

Harry watched her leave the room, his heart still racing. Maybe they weren’t fixed yet—maybe they never would be—but god did it feel nice to sit with her and just talk. No fighting, no spewing insults about the other and the generations before them, just talking and laughing.

The soft cry over the monitor faded as Y/N disappeared upstairs, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit living room. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply as he stared at the nearly empty wine bottle on the table. The weight of what they’d just admitted hung heavy in the air.

When Y/N returned a few minutes later, she looked slightly frazzled, her hair falling loose around her face. “He’s fine, just kicked his blanket off,” she murmured, brushing her hands down her thighs as she sat back down. This time, though, she didn’t tuck herself into the far corner of the sofa. She settled closer, close enough that Harry could feel the faint warmth radiating from her.

“You’re good with him,” Harry said, his voice low.

Y/N gave him a soft smile, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’ve had enough practice babysitting for Sarah. Besides, he’s an angel compared to some of the kids I’ve looked after.”

Harry chuckled, his eyes lingering on her face. There was a glow to her in this light, something he hadn’t allowed himself to really notice in so long. “Still. It suits you.”

Y/N arched a brow, her lips twitching. “What does?”

“Taking care of someone,” Harry said simply, leaning slightly closer. “You’ve always had that in you.”

She looked at him, something flickering in her gaze that she quickly masked with a light laugh. “Well, I used to take care of you, didn’t I? Someone had to make sure you didn’t live off toast and pot noodles.”

“Oi,” Harry protested, though his grin gave him away. “You loved doing that.”

“Maybe I did,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. Her fingers played with the hem of her jumper, a nervous habit Harry recognised all too well.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged, the kind of quiet that demanded to be broken. Harry shifted slightly, his knee brushing against hers again—but this time, neither of them moved away.

“Y’know,” Harry said after a moment, his voice dropping, “you still do that. Get under my skin, I mean.”

Y/N blinked, her breath hitching as she met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

He leaned in just a fraction more, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, smell the faint mix of his cologne and wine. “I mean,” he murmured, “you walk into a room, and I can’t think straight. Always been like that with you.”

Y/N’s lips parted, her pulse quickening at his words. She should’ve said something to deflect, to break the tension, but she couldn’t. Instead, her eyes dropped to his mouth, lingering there just a second too long before flicking back up to meet his gaze.

Harry noticed, of course he did. He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly confident way that made her stomach twist. “You’re doing it now,” he said, his voice softer, more intimate.

“Doing what?” she whispered, her voice betraying her as it wavered.

“Driving me mad.”

Her breath caught as his hand lifted, hesitating for just a moment before he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, the touch light but enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“Harry...” she started, though she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She swallowed, her heart racing as she searched his face. “This... this is dangerous.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his thumb brushing lightly against her jaw before he let his hand fall. “But it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Y/N couldn’t help the way her eyes flicked to his mouth again, her resolve faltering. Harry noticed, of course he did, and when he leaned in just a little closer, she didn’t stop him.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his lips hovering a breath away from hers.

But she didn’t. How could she?

Instead, her hand lifted, resting lightly against his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.

“Harry,” she said again, this time softer, almost pleading.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, his green eyes locked on hers.

And just like that, the space between them disappeared.

The kiss started soft, hesitant, as if neither of them could quite believe it was happening. Harry’s lips brushed against hers, testing, waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, her fingers curled against his chest, clutching at the fabric of his jumper like he might disappear if she let go.

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers threading through her hair as he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t rushed, but there was a hunger behind it, a need that had clearly been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her free hand moving to his shoulder as she tilted her head to give him better access. She could feel the warmth of him, the way his body seemed to press closer to hers with every passing second. It was overwhelming and intoxicating all at once.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath.

“This is a terrible idea,” Y/N murmured, though there was no conviction behind her words.

“Maybe,” Harry said, his voice rough and low, his thumb gently stroking the side of her neck. “But I don’t care.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t give her the chance. His lips found hers again, more insistent this time, his hands settling on her waist as he pulled her closer. She went willingly, her own hands sliding up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw.

The kiss grew hotter, more desperate, as the tension that had been building between them finally began to unravel. Harry’s hands slipped beneath the hem of her jumper, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her waist, and she shivered at the contact.

“Y/N,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. His green eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“We shouldn’t...” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But do you want me to stop?” he asked, his hands still resting on her waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles against her skin.

She hesitated for only a moment before shaking her head. “No.”

That was all he needed to hear. He captured her lips in another searing kiss, and this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. They gave in completely, their bodies moving instinctively as they closed the remaining distance between them.

Harry shifted, guiding her back against the sofa until she was lying beneath him, his weight pressing her into the cushions in the most delicious way. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then down to her neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Y/N’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she tilted her head to give him better access.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured against her skin, his voice raw and full of emotion.

She froze for a moment, her fingers stilling in his hair as his words sank in. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers as if he’d just realised what he’d said.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his hand coming up to cradle her face. “I’ve missed you every single day.”

Her breath caught at the vulnerability in his voice, and she felt her resolve crumbling all over again. “I missed you too,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “More than I wanted to.”

Harry let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to hers as he closed his eyes. “Then maybe this isn’t such a bad idea,” he said, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “Maybe we just... don’t fight it this time.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, her mind racing as she tried to process everything. But when he kissed her again—soft and slow, like he was trying to prove just how much he meant every word—she realised that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

She stayed quiet as he began trailing wet kisses down her neck, and instead focused on the warmth flowing through her body from the wine. "How mad do you think Sarah and Mitch would be if we had sex on their sofa?"

Harry laughed, and tucked his head into the crook of her neck, placing a final kiss before pulling away and scanning the room. "Blanket?" He asked, turning his head to look down at her.

He'd barely done more than a hickey or two and she already looked out of it. Her pupils were slightly blown, her lips puffy and pink, and her cheeks were flushed. She had never looked more beautiful.

“Blanket.” She reaffirmed, and moved out of the way so that he could lay it beneath her.

Harry smirked as he grabbed the throw blanket folded neatly on the armrest. “You’re really making this easier for me, aren’t you?” he teased, shaking the blanket out before draping it over the sofa.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though the soft smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Just trying to be considerate. Sarah’s got that whole ‘no shoes in the house’ rule. I think ‘no bodily fluids on the furniture’ falls under the same category.”

He let out a low laugh as he smoothed the blanket into place. “Good point. But for the record,” he added, glancing over his shoulder at her, “this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to babysit tonight.”

“Oh? And what did you have in mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“God knows, but definitely not this,” he said, turning to face her. His expression softened as his eyes met hers. “But I’m not complaining.”

Her cheeks flushed under his gaze, and for a moment, the teasing faded. The air between them felt charged, buzzing with an unspoken intensity. Harry took a step closer, his hands finding her hips as he guided her back against the sofa.

“Still sure about this?” he asked quietly, his voice low as his thumb brushed the hem of her jumper.

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she nodded. She knew this was reckless and fraught with risks. Still, the way he was looking at her with such raw, unfiltered longing made her forget every reason to say no.

“Positive,” she murmured, her fingers gripping the fabric of his jumper to pull him closer.

That was all Harry needed to hear. He leaned down, kissing her with a slow, deliberate intensity that sent a wave of warmth cascading through her body. His hands slipped under her jumper, his fingertips grazing her skin and making her shiver.

She gasped softly, her back arching against him as he pressed her down onto the sofa. His weight over her was comforting and electrifying all at once, grounding her in the moment even as it made her pulse race.

“Y/N,” he groaned, resting his forehead against hers for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

She smiled, sliding her hands down to the hem of his jumper and tugging it upwards.

He helped her pull the jumper over his head before tossing it onto the floor. “You’re trouble,” he murmured, leaning back down to kiss her.

“And you love it,” she shot back, her fingers tracing along the lines of his chest.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I really do.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers again, his hands exploring the soft curves of her body. She let out a shaky breath as his fingers brushed the edge of her bra, and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing her hips against his.

The moment seemed to stretch, the world outside fading into nothingness. Every kiss, every touch felt like a silent conversation, years of unspoken words expressed in the warmth between them. As her hands roamed and his lips pressed against her skin, the quiet sounds of their shared breaths and murmured names filled the room. Neither of them cared about the consequences; all that mattered was right now.

“Can I take your bra off?” Harry questioned.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” She laughed, reaching behind her back to unclip it and pulling it off.

Whatever snarky comment Harry had ready to shoot back melted on his tongue as looked down at her. “My gorgeous girl.” He mumbled, ducking his head to kiss along her right boob.

Y/N moaned as his tongue found her nipple, swirling around and biting it gently. “Harry, please.”

“Shh. I’m getting there. Be patient.” Harry muttered. reaching down to pull her thighs apart and pushing his hips against hers.

She arched her back into his chest at the friction, and lifted up her hips, chasing against his as he moved away.

“Turn around.” Harry pulled away, his hand gently rubbing against her hip bone.

“What?” She asked.

“Turn around.” He repeated, this time squeezing down ever so slightly on her hip.

She nodded her head and rolled onto her stomach. “But what if I wanted to see you?” She asked, feigning sadness in her voice.

Harry grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back, holding them in place with one hand whilst the other worked on pulling off his belt. “What if you don’t deserve to see me?” He mocked, looping the belt around her hands and pulling tightly.

“Oh my.. fuck.” Y/N mumbled, dropping her head onto the sofa and arching her back slightly.

Harry’s hips met hers once again, but this time there was a sense of urgency behind. “You alright?”

“Oh my god, yes.” She practically moaned.

Harry smirked, and grabbed the edge of her leggings, pulling them, along with her panties; down her legs in one quick motion. “Good.”

He leaned down and began to pepper kisses down her lower back, kissing any freckle or small childhood scar he could find, before finally sinking his teeth into the meat of her right hip.

Y/N yelped, and Harry’s hand pulled her back in place before she could move away. “You’re fine.” He said, and dipped his head to lick a bold line straight up her slit.

Y/N moaned, her body jostling forwards as Harry wrapped his arms around her thighs and dove right in, not leaving a single spot neglected.

He began to nibble her clit, his thumb quickly moving to rub soothing circles soon after whilst he pulled back to admire what was below him.

“You have got the most gorgeous pussy.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against her right asscheek and lifting his hand to brush through her. He pushed in his fingers, scissoring them open and using the sound of her moans as motivation.

“Are you not going to thank me? Maybe I should just stop since clearly you’re not appreciating what I’m doing for you.” Harry sighed, pulling away completely and sitting up against her.

“No— no Harry please. I’m begging you- please. It feels so good I— Thank you! Thank you, thank you. Please, Harry, don’t stop.” Her words were blending into one, and Harry couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He’d barely touched her like he used to, and this is how she was reacting?

“There’s my good girl.” He smirked, unbuttoning his jeans and shimmying them down his legs. His ground his clothed dick against her, hoping she didn’t notice the way he barely choked out a moan at such a simple touch.

His boxers were gone soon after, and finally, it felt like it was just them again. It felt like everything Harry had wished for had come true, and he was finally where he was supposed to be.

He reached down to grab her hands, bending over her to place a brief kiss against them, and pulled away once again. He rubbed the head of his dick through her slick, collecting as much as he could before hunching over and spitting directly above her clit, moving his dick to chase after it and distribute it.

“You ready?” He questioned.

“So fucking ready. Please, Harry-” Y/N cut herself off with a moan, her hands squeezing against nothing and her already overstimulated body was shaking as he pushed in.

Harry threw his head back as he groaned, his hands twitching with the need to grab something as the pleasure took over.

He waited a couple of moments before pushing in the rest of the way, gradually speeding up until finally his hips were flush against her ass. He bent over her once again, his hands resting against her head.

“I love you, my gorgeous girl.” He whispered, kissing the back of her head.

“I love you more. I’m sorry.” She whispered back, her voice cracking with what was either pleasure or regret.

Harry shushed her gently, and straightened back up so he could hold her hands. He pulled out ever so slightly, and pushed back in, repeating until eventually his whole dick, bar the tip, was out. He waited another moment, and, despite it being extremely unnecessary, spat once again, this time onto his dick, and slammed his hips back against her.

Y/N practically screamed as the pleasure set in, moving her head to bite against the throw pillow as her hips moved against Harry’s, desperate to get him deeper into her.

“Fuck I’ve missed this.” Harry groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Y/N was incoherent. Her moans were gradually getting louder, and she was starting to appreciate Harry making her turn around as she knew that her face would be covered in drool, as well as mascara and lipstick smeared all over.

“Can’t believe you tried to take this away from me. As if you’d ever find someone who could make you feel like this.” He pushed down on her back, forcing her to arch even further into him.

“Please, Harry.” She cried, her jaw aching from the excessive force she was using to bite down on the pillow as a muffler. “Please don’t stop, I'm so close.”

Harry slowed down, his hand dropping from her hip down to her clit and rubbing slow, small circles, whilst his other worked on unbuckling the belt from her hands. “Turn around. ‘Wanna see your pretty face.”

He pulled out of her gently, and watched as Y/N shakily rolled over, her face flushed and makeup ruined beyond repair. “Hi, baby.” Harry grinned, caressing her cheek gently.

“Hi.” She whispered, her voice raw and rasp. Once again, their hands connected, and Harry pushed back into her, their moans harmonising as Y/N clenched around him.

“I’m so fucking close.” Y/N whined, her nails digging into the backs of Harry’s hands whilst her pushing up her chest to rest against his.

“I know, baby. Hold it for me, alright? I’m almost there.” Harry muttered, resuming biting at the hickeys he had abandoned prior.

His hips began to match his harsh assaults on her neck, each thrust matching the way he nipped, licked, and suckled any bare spot from her jawline to her collarbone.

“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum. C’mon pretty girl, let go for me.” Harry whined, dropping her hand and moving to rub circles on her clit.

Y/N was incomprehensible. Her jaw was dropped, and her mouth open as she cried out a mixture of curses and praises as she came, Harry tailing along soon after, whimpers escaping the two of them. He slowed down, now ever so slightly moving inside of her as he watched a blend of their cum fall out of her with every movement.

“Well, shit.” He chuckled, brushing the sweat and hair off of her forehead gently.

Y/N nodded, a small giggle escaping her lips as she looked around the room. “How long do you think it’ll take Mitch and Sarah to figure out what he did?”

Harry smirked, and stared down at her with a look of admiration in his eye. “You open the windows and chuck the blanket in the wash, and I’ll run us a bath?”

“Deal.”

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

taglist - @empathyroad @harryshouseo1 @hannah9921 @hisparentsgallerryy @secretisme4 reply here or dm to be added!

[raleighrador]

Thanks for the thoughtful reply!

You obviously (and everyone) is free to make whatever choices around what and how they consume etc so I am not trying to persuade you of anything but I am interested in pursuing this thinking.

Please correct me if I misrepresent anything you said or are trying to articulate.

My basic issue is that in order to accept all of the above we need to rely on what seems to be a false premise: that AI created writing [art in general?] lacks perspective because perspective is a function of choice, and choice is something only humans can do, therefore AI writing cannot have perspective.

First, it isn't clear to me that perspective is a function of choice (certainly not only or even primarily). At the most macro level, if perspective is foundational informed by the lives we've lived, we didn't choose those lives nor do we consciously translate those experiences into a defined perspective. Our perspective is an emergent phenomenon. Translating that into writing - absolutely a human writer makes choices (some conscious some unconscious) about what to put on the page and what to leave off. My claim here is that far more of it is conscious than not. The majority of grammar, diction, arrangement etc is defined for us by custom that we operate within. Faulkner and Joyce are famous examples of not that but are a) exceptions and b) largely incomprehensible (one lit major's gripe). The vast majority of the vast majority of written work is - at best - more like your example of a collage than not. We all have the same lego pieces and the same rules and we're just moving them about.

What informs that arrangement is some choices and a lot of just baked in preferences and habits and patterns.

Second, even if we accept that perspective is a function of (conscious) choice this then needs to be integrated into our characterisation of what "AI writing" is. So far as I am aware there is very little "purely" AI writing i.e. an AI spontaneously picked a topic and generated something. These tools - certainly in the context of e.g. fanfic writing - are all human driven i.e. a human booted up chatgpt and at minimum wrote a prompt and hit "generate".

I guess it is possible that these people are then copy pasting and publishing these outputs without even reading them but that seems unlikely. I think the minimum interaction is they read them and decide if they like them or not - and then publish.

Why are they not making a choice about what to include or not? How is the process so fundamentally different to a more typical writing process? This becomes more evidently (to me) similar when you imagine that this "AI author" likely gets the AI to draft and redraft the output multiple times. They're engaging with what the AI produces and then directing it to make changes - choosing what to tell it to emphasise or remove etc.

If it is human choice that creates perspective, that seems to exist in writing even where the bulk of the "writing" was done by AI.

2 other thought experiments that spring to mind: 1) if the act of consuming output created by others and then saying "more X less Y" is NOT sufficient to create perspective, would you say that the director of a movie is not creating a perspective? They didn't write the script, they didn't say the lines, they didn't sew the costumes. They watched other people read other peoples' dialogue and then they say "make it more/less". 2) Do Jackson Pollock painting's have perspective? He made choices about colour and the force with which he threw or dribbled paint but he didn't control where the paint landed. How much choice, how much control, is required for perspective? And if they don't have a perspective does that mean they aren't worth engaging with?

I think both of the above imply that even absent the majority of the labour you can make choices and those create a perspective AND that conscious choice derived perspective is not a prerequisite for something to be worth engaging with.

I think this land son my third point which - regardless of any of the above the majority of the perceived perspective of a given piece of material is in fact RECEIVED perspective i.e. it is what the VIEWER brings that creates that perspective as much if not more than what the author intends. This is a pretty standard post modern position but even if you think Barthes is a hack the fact that so many people in academia or elsewhere fill so much time arguing over what was meant by any given piece of media is evidence of the fact that a significant portion of the perceived "meaning" of art is created by the viewer and not the artist.

What that implies is even if you accept that AI created/supported writing has none of the human choices that create an identifiable artist's perspective, that doesn't mean the work upon being read wont have a perspective projected onto it.

I think this paragraph of yours is interesting: "Could there be a person-made work that's just as bland and vapid as a ChatGPT work? Sure. A thousand monkeys and a thousand typewriters, etc. Even as I'm sure the person-made work would have a perspective ChatGPT lacks, I'm sure there's a work (or likely several) where I, as a reader, couldn't distinguish whether it's human-written or ChatGPT-generated. But humans also use heuristics to make choices; I've never read a ChatGPT-generated work that I remember a few days later, and I've read hundreds of human-written works that I do remember. It's just a better bet for my time to not bother with a ChatGPT-generated work and read a human-written work instead, even if I might hit a dull work every once in a while."

I basically look at this the other way round - the question is not "Can humans make art as bad as ChatGPT?" the question is "can ChatGPT create art as interesting and engaging as human created art". To me the answer is yes.

I get your point about heuristics but it seems to me that "was this written by/with extensive help from chatGPT" is not a good heuristic, in the exact same way that "was this written by the author in a single draft with no edits and no input from anyone else ever" or "was this written by a committee of authors who all mutually edited each other's drafts" are helpful heuristics.

Again, I am not seeking to convince you of anything and if this heuristic is helpful for you that is great, but I don't understand how.

just saw a fanfic on ao3 have a dedication for chatgpt... that section is meant for your horny perverted mutual who proofread your work, you violated sacred law and you will be torn apart and laid bare btw

[dilf-docs]

So Is it Your Place Or Mine?

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: summer is over, but your affair with joel isn't (or, you grind on joel's belt buckle while sarah is at soccer practice)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., exhibition kink (sarah is again a victim of this), brat taming (this two are soo into it), degradation kink, praise kink, lwk breeding kink, daddy kink (wow! it's a whole library of alexandria of kinks in here), fingering, dad bod!joel (best joel you mean), angst (oh guys look oh no it's alr starting), dirty talk!!!!! (they're so dirty ew i want it too wait who said that)

word count: 3,701 words

side note: and it became officially a series. hope u all are into this as much as i am because it's my first series ever !!!!! ALSO angst finally makes it way in this mess LET'S GO (i'mcrying i really looked up big texas belt to come up with a mental image in the middle of class, i'm so sorry to whoever sat behind me but idc abt me writing smut while at uni; we die like real men)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

It's been an unspoken rule that, even if you hate sports and the ball stays ten meters away from you, you always come to Sarah's soccer practice, cheering for her from your usual spot at the benches.

Except today, you aren't there. And now Sarah is calling you when she shouldn't, but that she doesn't know.

"I can't. I have stuff to work on stuff"

Bullshit.

Your laptop and the half-written essay sit untouched at the coffee table. The thing being touched in question, is something entirely different.

"Need help?"

His hands grip any free spot of your glistening skin, sucking on the rosy pink until it turns maroon red.

"I'm at my dorm, sorry"

Double bullshit.

Sarah doesn't even know your car is parked next to her dad's truck. She has about four hours to find out.

"I can drop by later then" she suggests.

His hot breath tingles against your neck as his nose caresses the spot. Bad girl, he mouths, like he wasn't the one who told you to pick up, despite his daughter's name on the caller's ID. You try to reach for a kiss, but his digits press on your hair, pulling you back with violence to forbid your lips from touching his. Bad girl, and your arousal drips with more intensity at the remark. Bad girl.

"No!" the answer comes quick, your voice strained, and Sarah jokes that you should take it easy with your classes, instead of suspecting anything else.

"Fine! I won't go if you don't want me to, but if you show up dead by stress, I'll be free of guilt"

He kisses the outline of your jaw with sloppy movements, like he just wants to busy himself while Sarah blabbers about the practice, and you keep trying to make her stop, but she tells you not to worry, that she's on a break right now, and the task to avoid whimpering at his rough kisses across your neck becomes increasingly difficult. A gasp escapes your lips when his teeth sink into your flesh. Mine, not to be said but to be felt. Seen by the rest. A pretty red that tastes like the blood he craves, the hunger akin to violence. Bad girl, and he's biting your lip to stop any other filthy noises from escaping. What if she hears?

"Are you okay?" concern laced on Sarah's tone. Guilt creeps through the cracks of the worn-out paint of his bedroom, one your friend had practically begged him to restore; the joke of it all was that was about his job yet he couldn't fix his own goddamn house. "Y/n, did you hurt yourself?"

I'm treating you well, ain't I, doll? and then he'd grin against the crook of your neck before looking at you, his dark blown-wide pupils gazing at you with a hunger you didn't think it was possible. They'd burn, and the fire didn't scare you: it was the warm your cold body needed. Tell Sarah her daddy ain't hurting her slut of a friend.

"I-I'm fine" you manage to choke out. Good girl.

Joel's lids feel heavy as a crown. But you like 'em rough, don't 'cha, baby?

"Should I worry?"

Joel pulls harder, your scalp burning at the harsh tug. Answer when I ask. You breathe in heavily, and Sarah keeps on asking you if you're okay, threatening to burst through a dorm door she'll find empty.

"N-no" you meekly answer, and he laughs at your demeanor. Under his weight, pinned down on the mattress, there's nowhere to run to.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Sarah I need to hang, okay? My head hurts. Bye" it all comes down in a rush, the words a vomit of excuses. You make sure the call has ended, and so does Joel, that in an act of mercy, has stopped. You both look the screen until the lockscreen is back up again, a picture of you and Sarah. Despite used to having his weight on top of you, your throat feels constricted.

"Do you want to traumatize your daughter, Mr. Miller?"

He's back at his task of kissing, making you moan and writhe at the sensitivity of your kissed and bit skin during the last hour. You hate how he takes his time―edging you; unbearable.

"What I want is you"

The lie comes out effortlessly from his teeth. He wants you, needs you, but does he really want you? His daughter's best friend, the college girl he was going to lecture just last summer―to live life and forget about him, yet couldn't. He lies to himself, saying he didn't because you felt asleep, but feeling a warm body next to him, being your beautiful frame of all people, made it hard.

The way he makes a moaning mess out of you, how he knows every spot of your body no one had been able to please before, how your cunt stretches perfectly around his cock, how you call his name like no one else had done. It belongs to you now, and this is a vice.

It's like he's got a wound, and you're the only balm that can soothe the pain. But the effect is temporary, and after you leave, he always finds himself wanting more.

The doubt on his eyes has your heart beating out of fear.

"Then have me, Mr. Miller" you dare.

When Joel smiles, barely noticeable, something flutters in your stomach.

"Al'ight, impatient one. We have sum hours until Sarah's back. Spread" his hand nudges your thighs apart, and you oblige, making Joel chuckle at your obedience. "Good girl, baby. S'good f'r me"

You let out a gentle moan at the praise, and he smirks at your reaction.

"Feelin' desperate, are we?" he taunts, seeing your pretty lips parted and face flushed, a whine escaping them.

"Shut the fuck up and just kiss me already" you beg, pussy throbbing painfully.

"Damn brat" he hisses, "ain't you such'a needy greedy slut?" his finger hooks on your panties, tugging you closer into him, your body rising to clash against his softer frame that has nothing to do with his rough demeanor. You can feel the bulge that has formed through his pants, making you moan in delight.

"Sorry, daddy. I'll be a good girl" you squirm under his weight, pouting lips and batting eyelashes. "Please, kiss me. Pretty please, daddy"

"Jus' cus you asked well" but he knows it's an excuse to capture your sweet lips until he's tasted all of you. You once heard old men kiss like they want to devour every inch of your mouth, to make space for their tongue like it's going to live in there, and they were right.

He pulls away from the kiss to pull out his shirt, revealing his soft body. Your hands itch, immediatly reaching for it with wandering fingers. He chuckles at the eagerness, but then he catches the subtle adoration in your eyes, and his breath hitches, heart stopping.

"What's wrong?" you look up, and it's gone. Maybe he imagined it.

Joel doesn't know why he feels dissapointed by it.

He tries to push the thoughts back, head diving down between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and messy trails of saliva with his tongue on each one. He gives a special lick to your hardened nipples, making you squirm.

"Gonna bend y'r fuckin' sexy little body on this sheets. Gonna make you cum all'over, until y'r scent is'mpregnated on 'em"

You groan at his words, fingers pulling down the pajama shorts you brought over, revealing your pretty black laced lingerine.

"Fuck, baby. You wore 'em for me?" he's asking, and you'd be crazy if you think the tone reveals devotion. Is Joel even capable of warmth?

He leaves a new trail of kisses, this time, running from your neck to your stomach.

"Gonna make you scream my name 'til that's the only thin' you know how to say" his hot breath tingles over your abdomen. He buries his face in there, the mustache and scruffy graying hair tickling the skin. "Gon' give you such'a load, this flat stomach of yours will be bustin' with my seed"

You whine at his filthy words, mouth agape slightly. He looks at your soaked panties, arousal on clear display now. Joel's cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

He lets out a low growl. "Look at you, such'a slut for me. Drippin' wet like a fuckin' whore and desperate, when I ain't even touch you"

To prove so, Joel teasingly runs his fingers along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaking core.

He pulls your underwear down, taking them off.

"M'gonna fuck you real good, baby" his fingers dig on your thighs for support, the burning sensation of his calloused digits on your soft skin delicious. "Gon' take care of what's mine"

Mine.

The words ring loud and clear. The only other noise to be heard is his lips leaving wet sounds against your thighs. Does Joel even realize what he said? Or was it in the heat of the moment?

No, wait. Stop. Why do you care?

He begins to rub circles in your clit, coating his fingers in your dripping arousal, prodding the tense needy hole, making you moan in desperation.

"Please, daddy" your lips cry as you beg for him to do anything to remove the pain in between your legs.

"Please, what?" Joel teases, voice raspy. He keeps prodding your center, his digits in and out in a gentle manner, contrasting his hard hold on your thigh. You squirm and whine at the sensation, but maybe it's the dark on his eyes that's really responsable for making you shrink under his gaze. "Think 'm doin' this for ya'? To please ya'? No, baby" he tuts, "you were a bad girl. Almost got caught"

"If you didn't make me answer" you seethe, a moan almost escaping your lips when his fingers hit that sweet spot of yours. "Maybe if you didn't, she wouldn't-"

Joel removed his fingers from you, and you reduce to a moaning mess, begging for the release you were chasing and now it's lost.

"But you wanted'er to know, didn't ya'?" he unbuckles his belt and fumbles with his worn-out jeans, revealing a barely concealed neediness on his side. "Wanted'er to know where 'er slut of a friend was: at daddy's house, beggin' for his dick like a cockhungry slut"

"I-I want it. Want you dick" you barely choke out, lips parted at the sight of his pulsating dick's silhouette under his brief.

"Then take it, hungry one"

His tip buries deeply into your cunt before you even speak again, sliding inside in one swift motion. You gasp, as he fills you up completely, because despite the way your cunt stretches for him, or the way you have had his dick and need it, his girth never fails to amaze you.

"D-daddy" you moan, walls stretching to accommodate his size. Your sweet arousal drips down your thighs, coating Joel's balls. Fuck, doesn't he love to see you squirming under him. He's never had a woman like you before, wrapped around his finger. You may be a girl, but God, you feel so much better around his dick than anyone else: your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his dick twitching when he takes a look at your legs shaking and fucked out state.

"That's it, pretty girl. Beg for'it"

His words go straight to your core as you moan. "Please. Let me take all of you, Joel, please"

You said his name. Fuck. He shouldn't be this aroused, but the way you say it like that's the only thing you know, like it means something more, it makes his dick throb and heart sting. That he, Joel Miller, old bitter man, single dad, could mean more to a young pretty girl like you.

"Fuck" he grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you with harsh movements. The sound of skin clapping is obscene as he begins to fuck you mercilessly. "Ain't you a noisy lil' thing, huh? You like that, baby? You like it rough?"

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-yes, daddy. F-fuck, just like that. I like it a l-lot"

"Good girl" he grins satisfied with your respone, his thrusts getting rougher and messier. "Lookin' s'pretty with my dick's inside of you"

Joel changes angles without telling you, brushing your g-spot. A noise so loud and vulgar comes out of your parted lips, and you feel ashamed.

But then he's brushing a strand of hair from your face, with a delicacy you've seen reserved for his daughter only. It feels weird, and you try that it doesn't distract you from your looming orgasm.

"Joel..." you breath out his name.

"Yes?" with everything coming out of his mouth: possesiveness, neediness, pleasure. Like he'd give you the world if you just ask, despite telling himself he wouldn't.

"K-keep going"

Your gaze bores into his eyes with an intensity that almost makes him stop. Because the words are simple, but Joel's been alive enough on this Earth to know it doesn't mean just that.

Keep going. Don't stop. Don't end this. Don't let me go.

"Whatever m'princess asks if she asks 'em nice"

You scream in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, his balls slapping against your cunt, as your slick begins to run down your thighs. Joel thinks he's going crazy at the way your folds take him, how tight you feel, and the loud noises you make, begging him to fuck you harder, to use you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, writhing under his touch as you begin to see stars.

"You close, aren't ya'?" he laughs, but it's devoid of mockery. A subtle softness hides behind them. Ask nicely, and I shall give. "Gon' cream 'round my dick like a good girl, right?"

His digits dig in the flesh of your hips, guiding himself to fuck you harder, for you to take him better, caging your body under the sheets, pushing you even closer to your orgasm. You mewl loudly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the delicious burn.

If you told yourself a year ago you'd be crying over Joel Miller's dick, of all people, you'd probably laugh. But no college boys had been able to please you, less bring you to tears as you reach your orgasm. This is heaven, and you aren't ready to say goodbye to the paradise you found in summer just yet.

Your core tenses around him, body so close to finishing, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears, and lips spilling the filthiest sounds ever heard to humankind. It's heaven, and Joel isn't ready to give it up just yet. Your pussy throbs, and as your juices mix as one, you roll your eyes and head back, your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening faster. Before you can register, your mind goes blank and you're seeing stars.

You come around his cock, coating it in your arousal as Joel admires how you cream his member, tight walls almost pushing him out of you. He groans at your simmering cries, some tears coming out of your eyes.

"What'e fuckin' slut, baby. You sure are somethin' else" he chuckles, his thrusts messier by his own high approaching. "Wait for me, yeah, baby?"

You humm, as he buries deep into you, filling you up completely, as his hips stop their harsh movements when he feels the tension in his abdomen release.

"Fuckin' sweet" he uses a finger to clean some of the slick that's run down your leg. "Good girl"

He licks them off in an obscene display, making sure to never break contact.

"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna become a real bad girl" you taunt.

Then he pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your cunt. He grabs one of the corners of his sheets, cleaning some of his seed from your thighs. Joel should be careful, but all his foggy mind can muster is you being his in every way he can. Making you his. Mine. Mine. Mine. You plead him not to do that, but he argues laundry day is soon and he likes it better when it smells like you anyway. You confess with a cute light blush in your cheeks that you do the same when he comes over to fuck you in your dorm, sleeping better when the covers smell like him. He shouldn't feel like this: like it could be. But he allows himself to, even for an instant.

"Oh, yeah?" he pants, "what you gon' do?"

Your eyes travel to his jeans and untied buckle he hadn't wasted time taking off, rather just pulling them down.

"I have something in mind..." you wander off, remembering filthy thoughts of your first night together, how you briefly thought about it. "I-" you cut off, blushing furiously.

"Yes?" he holds your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him as his rough fingers press on the skin. "Remember what I told ya', baby? To ask nicely? 'Cause you said you'd be a good girl, so be one and tell daddy what'd ya' want"

You gulp, trying to hold his gaze. You never back down. You never back down. But the intensity of the shinning copper makes that insufferable character of yours to be tamed, boiling against the surface but just scratching, all screams lost. Is like he knows this power over you, acting on it with a benevolence so sick, it has you thinking loving Joel Miller isn't impossible.

You never back down, but being with Joel feels like walking over stones, always thinking about the next step and the ones that were, ghosts of the lingering doubts and afterthoughts behind every step you take. It's like there's a river below them, washing away regret.

But you're still here: water up your knees then and now over your head.

You're barely floating. You'd be willing to drown anyway.

"I want to ride your belt buckle"

There's silence in the other side, until its met with a light chuckle.

"Yeah?" Joel keeps on laughing, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "S'that what that filthy head of yours be thinkin' on?"

"Stop it" you groan, covering your hot face with your palms. You wish you could erase that ugly smirk off his face. "I'm never telling you anything again, ever"

"Now c'mon, baby. I was jus' messin' 'round" his tone adquires a soft edge to it, tender warm hands removing yours from your face. "Don't cover your face, baby. You're too goddam pretty" you blush, and Joel better resist the urge to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. "I didn't mean to make fun of ya'. You know y'can tell me anythin' that's goin' inside that head of yours"

"Then you'll let me?" your pretty eyes look up to him, shinning like the stars of the summer night sky months ago.

He can't deny you anything, and a small crack of fear wounds his impenetrable heart.

"Get'ere you filthy slut"

You eagerly climb onto his lap as he sits against the beds headboard, your thighs pushing against his belly.

"Now" he tries to put in a more comfortable position, his tired joints creaking. He avoids your gaze, coughing over his blush. "You do all the job, baby. I ain't gonna help you, this greedy pussy took all of my energy"

You giggle, moving until your bare pussy clashes against the cold. A shiver runs down your spine, the dried juices moistening again over the metal piece. His hands move to your hips, hands now soft as they hold you, and he seems unsure of it, both of your breaths coming out ragged.

"You said you weren't gonna help" you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. His face feels closer, and you can see lines time has marked across his features. "But thanks, daddy"

His heart takes a dangerous leap.

"'Course, baby" he smiles. "You know I spoil ya' too damn much"

You begin to roll your hips, sliding your pussy over the cold material, your arousal making a wet slick sound that bounces off the walls, a shiver down your back as you feel your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

"Mmm, can't say no to me, can you, baby?" you mock, rocking your hips back and forth. A shaky breath escapes your parted lips, and Joel feels his renovated dick spring hard. You moan, your ass barely touching his now tense member.

"Quit runnin' that mouth of y'rs, baby" his digits dig on your skin, "or I'll bend ya' over again"

"Sorry, daddy" you feel the metal star on the middle digging inside your pussy, the borders of the imprint brushing your leaking cunt in a pleasant way. "I promise to be good"

"Do" he grunts, "you're runnin' out of time, doll"

You close your eyes, movements more quick and erratic, little moans leaving your body as you groan.

"Tell me how this lil' experiment of yours feelin', baby"

"F-feels good, daddy. Fuck" you groan, lifting your hips a bit as you grind yourself down across the material. "So so good, daddy. Thank you, daddy"

"Mmm, that's right. Now be a good girl and come for me. Let me see that pretty face of yours when ya' come over ma' belt"

You let out a shaky breath, juices spilling over his jeans even as you see stars. He chuckles, enamoured at the sight.

"You gonna need help with that?" you point out his boner.

Oh, aren't you a doll? So kind-hearted.

"That's okay" he breathes out, tiredly. He thinks of the next trip to the bathroom, the image of what he'll fuck himself to clear now.

You smile at him, for the first time forgetting this started as a blowing-off-steam-time or transaction.

For a moment, it feels like it could be.

"Jus' seein' you cum all over me so prettily is'nough, baby"

[steorrneleom]

BG3 Elven Names: A Watsonian Perspective

Amongst folks who like Astarion as a character, the meaning of his name is a common topic of discussion. The answer is typically that it is a variation of Astērion (Ἀστερίων), a Greek name meaning starry, which makes complete sense considering that he is likely a moon elf, but it is based in a language that does not actually exist in the Forgotten Realms. This isn’t a problem, a Doylist answer is completely valid, but I thought it would be fun to figure out what the meaning would be in Elvish (the D&D version), a Watsonian answer (1). After Astarion's, I set out to see if this could be done with Halsin and Cazador as well. I present here my results, with narrative. I have also included a TLDR at the end for those who want to skip the methodology.

(1) To any who may not be aware: Doylist means that it is what the author was thinking when writing / what their intention was. Watsonian means the in-universe perception / explanation. Example: Why did magic change so much between D&D 3.5e and D&D 4e? Doylist answer is that they wanted to simplify how magic worked to draw in new players. Watsonian answer is that Mystra was assassinated by Shar and Cyric resulting in arcane magic becoming unstable and changing its behavior.

In the Lack of Duolingo

First things first, I needed a resource for the Elven language in D&D. As with many collaborative canons, official uses of the language were spread through many mediums and over the course of decades. This makes hunting down sources difficult, but luckily a wonderful person by the name of Diane Morrison was kind enough to create ‘A Treatise on Espruar,�� which offers a complete dictionary. This is what I will be using:

A quick disclaimer that, also like with many collaborative canons, this language has inconsistencies and gaps which makes a true cannon language impossible until a complete conlang is officially released. What I present is to the best of our current resources.

Method to the Madness

I have the words, but next comes the challenge of using them. These names were not made to be interpreted in the lens I am using, so it is kind of like trying to fit a square peg in anything but a square hole. Some words can line up near perfect but have meanings that make absolutely no sense, like dragon royal world, or some words can have the right meanings but have the wrong letters. I resolved this with the following criteria:

The words used must be as close to the name as possible.

Sound shifts must be minimal and not drastic.

As few letter drops as possible.

A meaning that makes sense in context (as much as possible).

Key

Word / part of word Meaning

Astarion

Something noteworthy about Astarion’s name that I kept in mind when translating it is that it was his ‘child name’, the name that was given to him by his parents and not one he chose for himself (2). This means that the meaning wouldn’t necessarily be one that he himself liked, but rather one that a parent would like to ascribe to their child.

Searching for words, one almost seemed perfect at first: Aasterinian (meaning quicksilver). It was already so close to his name without having to Frankenstein words together, but sadly it broke nearly all of my rules. It had three letter drops and two sound shifts: er to ar and ian to ion. I also was of the opinion that while quicksilver was a fine name meaning, it wasn’t one that felt like it was meant for a child.

So, the next option was a combination of Aestar (meaning together or one heart) and -ion (meaning noble). I was hesitant of this one at first. The meaning I wanted to use for Aestar, heart, had seemed to be reserved for the context of marriage at first glance, but then I saw the name Araestar with its meaning of Goldheart. This is evidence that heart is valid for names as well.

Thus, my Watsonian idea is that Astarion’s name comes from Aestarion, which translates to noble heart. This only has one letter drop and a slight sound shift from Ae to A. I also personally think noble heart is a fitting meaning for a child’s name.

(2) Astarion’s tombstone has his name and states he was 39 when he ‘died’. Elves are typically considered adults and choose their new name when they reach the age of 100.

Halsin

Halsin was a bit of a hard one, where there were tons of possibilities but near all of them just didn’t fit right. Halsin is 350 years old, he would have presumably chosen his name with a meaning that represented him as a person. He, in my opinion, wouldn’t have a name that meant something random like weak brook or red. In addition, I had to find a combination of words that fit my rules.

So, I had to write down three prefix possibilities, five word possibilities, three suffix possibilities, and mix and match until I got something that met my criteria. I won't include my rejected combinations due to their number, but here are some reasons I rejected them: ‘r to l sound shift is too drastic’, ‘the on sound is too different from in’, and ‘though m and n are close in the IPA the sound shift feels too great’. Luckily, I did find a combination I was satisfied with in the end.

My Watsonian idea is that Halsin’s name comes from Halasan which translates to one who is free and wild. The ending of Halasan would likely be pronounced like in already so it would only be a letter change instead of a sound shift. The only other change needed would be a letter drop, the a in las.

Cazador

Now this name I went in thinking that it would be the true challenge, the 'z' felt distinctly non-elven to me, but much to my surprise D&D elven does have the z sound and letter. It was still hard to get a good meaning out of it, especially since it is unknown whether this would be his child name or his adult name and there was only one combination of words that worked.

The collection of words at my disposal were cas which means herald, -adar which means world, and za which means royal, of royalty. From this, I got Cazadar, which is a modification of Casadar that adds za. This would give a direct translation of herald of royalty world, which I feel would be interpreted as royal herald (to the world). It isn’t the cleanest meaning, but I feel like there is ego and world domination vibes to it, so it works.

A slight tangent, it is debatable how valid my overlapping construction is. It is possible that the shift from cas to caz would be seen as just a letter shift and not an addition of the word za. This wouldn’t be a problem, herald of the world is still a valid meaning for my purposes, despite it losing some of the ego. There is also the possibility that the za is seen but it results in the caz being interpreted as ca, a letter shift from ka which means dragon. Since there is no dor or dar in elvish, it is possible that it would be seen either as an ornamentation or a shortening of -adar, in which case the translation becomes dragon of royalty or dragon of royalty world. These meanings aren’t horrible in the case of a wrongful interpretation, but it doesn’t entirely make sense, and Kazaadar breaks the rules I imposed.

With all this being said, my Watsonian idea is that Cazador’s name comes from Cazadar, which can be translated to royal herald (to the world). This is the one name that I created that feels like a stretch, but I tried my best.

Last Names

I originally only did the first names when I decided to make this, but then I realized while typing all this that this probably wouldn’t be complete without trying the last names too... and so, I decided to give them a try. I sat down with the elven dictionary and felt the hope leave my body as soon as I wrote them down on my scrap paper. Ancunín, with a little accent on the ‘i’ and a super rare letter for D&D elvish, ‘u’; and Szarr, with two consonants (S and Z of all things) next to each other. I predicted a struggle, a struggle is what I got, and I fled the battle, unsuccessful. I was not able to find anything that met my rules… yet.

I will revisit this someday, but it will require a lot more research on Faerûn than I am able to put in right now, sadly. Here is the fun thing about last names, they are often more influenced by location as opposed to the ethnic origin of someone. Case and point: in the US a lot of folks changed their last name upon arrival to better fit in, or it was messed up enough times that they changed it for convenience sakes. Examples: Müller turning into Miller (a spelling change), Zimmermann becoming Carpenter (a direct translation), or going from Sadowski to Smith (A complete change to assimilate). They also have a different meaning convention compared to regular names to begin with, where they can be based on the location an ancestor lived, their occupation, or their nickname.

A Watsonian answer may exist for Ancunín and Szarr, but it would be rooted in where their families lived through the eras and other local languages that might have influenced the original elvish version. Like perhaps the location the Ancunín family is from has a predominant language which favors ‘u’ as a vowel. Maybe Szarr isn’t elvish at all and is an occupation name. I don’t know if I will be able to find a satisfying answer, but if I do one day I will be sure to post it.

Bonus

Espruar is the alphabet of the elvish language, which looks really cool in my opinion. Before I even started looking into the Watsonian origins of the names, I thought it would be cool to see what their names looked like written in it and so vectorized all the letters. Below are the character's names and their origin names written with Espruar.

Astarion

Aestarion

Halsin

Halasan

Cazador

Casadar

Cazadar

Little End Note

I want to thank everyone who read through my long explanations and tangents, I hope you enjoyed reading the thought process behind all of these ☺️. I also wanted to let you folks know that I am going to make another post soon with my vectorized Espruar alphabet so anyone can write with it should they want to.

TLDR

[quirekey]

HI!! I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH!!

Could you do a fem reader with TFP ratchet who’s in high school (sophomore year or freshman) and goes to a school where there’s a nursing class??

Obviously no romance, more like a friendship! I’d love to know how Ratchet would act if there was another human on the team but who was studying to be a nurse, Also if you can I’d love if you could add June in too since she’s a nurse too!

Tysm!!

YOU ARE TOO KIND OH MY GOODNESSS!! HIII!! I’m so sorry i couldn’t get to you sooner, I hope you are having a great day because this one is so much funnn!! I love platonic :3

[ RATCHET ] & [ FEMME!READER ]

[ ratchet & human!femme!freshmen!reader ] + [ platonic ]

READER INTRO

You were a timid and cheerful freshmen that starred in the medical and scientific subjects. Curious about the newest things and willing to try new experiences knowing it could either be deathly or a cake-walk.

HEADCANONS

- The way you met Ratchet was somewhat strange. You were walking home from school and you saw an empty and vacant ambulance. This never happens and you knew this so you went to investigate. Once you hopped into the passenger seat, you looked around in curiosity, unaware of the consequences. Ratchet was having a bad day and did not want you to play with his buttons today. He drove off immediately to the base and dropped you off outside of it.

- Introducing himself as a Cybertronian was pretty hard. You were extremely afraid of him and he did not have the patience. Eventually you both got along and realised that you’ll be dealing with Transformer adventures and Medical school at once, great. Luckily you were assigned to partner up with Ratchet so at-least you guys somewhat knew each-other

- When you met everybody, Raph and June stood out.

- You and Raph were both really smart and related to one another because of both of your schedule problems. You both struggled balancing good grades and transformer duties due to them both being extremely important. You enjoyed how smart Raph was in Sciences and you both would share some new info to one another, it kinda scared Miko and she started calling it ‘Nerd Talk’.

- June was a nurse for your town and you knew her beforehand. Before you have met the crew, you went to June oftenly to ask for tips and information about the medical field. Your questions were definitely creative and it always had June thinking, this made you stand out to June so she remembered you too. Now that you two were gonna see each other more often, you can ask more questions!

- Ratchet isn’t the type to praise or compliment others directly but he knew that you knew that he was proud of you. He would listen to you cheer in happiness because you passed a class with flying colours. If he could during alt-mode, he’d just smile.

- Just like how Ratchet taught Raph, he will teach you. He has seen you exceed in the medical subjects for humans but he wanted you to push further into Cybertronian. He thought it would be pretty simple since he is a Cybertronian himself but he underestimated how annoying it would be. Learning about a whole new subject that related to engineering and Cybertronians was a bust. You had no motivation to try and it was merely too much for you to handle. Ratchet was disappointed but it was fair.

- You walked home often but every once-in-a-while Ratchet is willing to drop you off instead. This is pretty out of character for him but he thought that it would be best to get along with you and to talk to you as much as possible. Because of this, you guys got pretty close as friends. Your friends thought it was pretty cool but strange that you were being driven by an emergency vehicle and your parents always questioned themselves about Ratchet.

- You were extremely committed to your role as the doctor, always cheering the kids on when they leave for an adventure and checking on them after adventures. When June isn’t here (which is often due to her busy schedule) you replace her spot. You're still learning but this was an amazing way to get experience.

[stealingpotatoes]

EVERYONE GREAT NEWS REWRITE ANON RETURNED AND BLESSED US W MORE! i'll copy & paste the rest of the asks under the cut ⬇️ it's pretty long but worth the read (ive left my own notes in pink)

[continued from screenshot] We didn’t come up with a new name for Kylo Ren/Ben Solo but we did come up with a new arc and I put him in a traditional Alderaanian cape in the concept art sketches because he deserves to be an Organa (potes notes: YES!!!). I also gave him a lightning scar instead of a lightsaber scar because it made a bit more sense.

Our general plan was that yes, he’s still evil, at least a bit. His parents and uncle are awe-inspiring war heroes as well as being incredibly busy making sure the entire Galaxy doesn’t collapse in on itself in the power vacuum left behind by the Empire. Luke is part of a humanitarian aid/Geneva Convention type wing of the New Republic and Kylo finds himself both feeling like he lacks the means to prove himself and like they’re not doing enough to squash the threat of insurgence - which is still a clear threat and there have been multiple attempts on his mother’s life that have left the family scared. He absorbs certain parts of his mother and father’s political conduct; Leia’s willingness to fight for what’s right and Han’s general impulsiveness.

Anyway keep that in mind. He makes a stupid bid to try and prove himself by trying to fight off a whole imperial remnant cell alone “Just like the Jedi used to do.” and ends up going completely missing. Tl/dr: he’s super close to death and the big bad of the movie steps in to save him, teaching him what he always wanted to learn - how to fight and defend the people you love rather than focusing on connection to the force. Kylo doesn’t see the significance of that side of things, both because his parents don’t have an interest in it and because he’s grown up with tales of the daring exploits of Master Luke taking on ten people at once and chopping robots to bits. He just wants to make people proud of him. (OHHH THIS IS SO GOOD SO SO MUCH BETTER)

He’s pretty young when this happens too, and eventually his mind is twisted to believe that the only way to keep everyone safe is dictatorship. He’s grown up in a long, slow, difficult democracy with constant political unrest and everyone’s described how powerful and stable the Empire was his whole life - doesn’t matter that they were talking about how cool it was that they beat it. He still absorbed all that. (THIS IS SUCH A GOOD CHARACTER MOTIVATION and also great setup for themes/discussions on radicalisation and its like poetry it rhymes w anakin's fall omg)

Anyway, flash forward to the time of the films. He’s not a Sith, he can’t manage to push himself that far into the dark side. But he wants to be. He’s got a complex about it, he’s obsessed with getting stronger because then maybe they’ll be proud of me. He loses his first fight with Rey, not because she’s strong in the force at this point, but because he’s trained himself to the point of exhaustion after being reprimanded for a minor failure in interrogating Poe. He can barely move and he’s on the verge of fainting when they corner him in fact. He’s practically addicted to the pain of overtraining himself because that pain is what connects him to the dark side. (GOOD FIX!! 10/10 writing omg)

When Rey actually becomes a more formidable opponent in the force, he asks her “Who trained you?” and she tells him it was Han, not knowing the blow this is going to strike. This gets in his head. Badly. Han never understood the force when he was a kid, and was still not the best at being emotionally vulnerable (he was a great dad! But he was still the man who said “I know.” to “I love you.” (oop yep ok see ur point LOL)). Kylo isn’t to know that Han was FORCED to overcome this stuff through a brief stay in absolute hell. He asks what she can possibly have that he doesn’t, how is she better than him? And when he lashes out at Rey, telling her about the Han he knew, she doesn’t believe him and calls him a liar and a terrible son. This fight (which takes place on water) ends up with Rey almost drowning as Kylo throws a massive force tantrum, and Kylo having a breakdown under the sea in a force air bubble after the fight is over.

I think I’ll do a couple more asks because this one has been super long! I’m sorry if this was a chore to read I just thought I’d share if you liked the last one hah.

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

Rewrite anon again! I’m sorry if this is getting tedious!

We had a general plan for Kylo Ren’s redemption where Rey would be in danger of falling to the dark side by the end of the second film (IM LISTENING), and Kylo would already be on the path to questioning things after some hard hitting blows

Death of Luke (his master) (;-;)

Rey was trained by and kind of adopted by Han and has become the galaxy’s beacon of hope. Maybe it is all on him. And she loves Han so much that it’s hard for his new master to twist the facts on him anymore.

The third film would be a fucked up family reunion type bit where Kylo begs for forgiveness and him and Han set off to try and save Rey together. (YESSSSSSS!!! omg this is everything to me holy shit)

Thanks for the listen! I hope these aren’t too annoying. (IM LOVING IT)

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

Rewrite anon again (sorry). Wanted to mention Leia, Poe and Finn.

Leia is dealing with a massive insurgence threat which is why she sends Rey (galaxy’s last hope) away with Han (good at hiding. Also the only person she could both trust and spare).

Finn and Poe both comment a lot on how Rey’s galactic significance makes her blind to people’s lives. The New Order might keep her alive because she’s valuable, and Kylo might listen to her, but Finn and Poe are both canon fodder to both Kylo and the New Order. Hierarchy of lives and all that. (oooo yes that'd be such a fun like... counterpoint to the whole Skywalker Saga & fate-destiny-soap-opera)

Poe used to be a fighter pilot but is now more of a political leader and provides a necessary voice in the senate to backwater outer rim planets. He’s Leia’s political mentor (i assume you meant mentee/student?) with none of her royal manners and all of her intensity.

Finn isn’t exactly a clone, but he is grown in a lab. He’s more of a super-soldier than a clone, designed at the genetic level to be basically eugenics’ perfect man. (puts on my CATWS stan hat im listening) He becomes a field agent/espionage/sabotage type guy after defecting from the New Order because he doesn’t want to be involved in active combat any more, even though it’s hardwired into him and he has to fight it the whole way. Luke takes a liking to Finn before his death and teaches him about the importance of forging your own identity first before you start to think about where you’ve come from.

Hope you like the ideas lol we had a lot.

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

Final (?) ask from rewrite anon maybe. It’s about Han because we did kinda just make the Han movies I realise.

Han saves Rey from pirates after she finally cheats herself offworld for the first time and finds herself overwhelmed. After losing Kylo to the New Order he has long since realised his shortcomings in parenting and while he works up the courage to reach out to his son, he uses Rey kind of like a do-over child. (...healthy!)

Han ends up stuck with Rey after Luke’s death and with Leia pinned down on all sides, and as well as trying to give her super DIY teaching, he realises she can talk to Luke. Understandably this hits him like a truck while he’s grieving his friend, and him and Luke have a kind of Haymitch and Katniss communicating-without-communicating relationship. Han can’t see or hear Luke, but he knows when Luke’s trying to use timing to tell him something. (AGH I LOVE THISSSSSSSSSSS YES using a THG comparison makes me love it even more)

Han also survives until the end of the films. Harrison Ford would hate me for this he wants that guy to die so bad but no the smuggler from the fuck end of nowhere with no cosmic significance, no nothing, just the power of love and a gun makes it to the end. The survivor’s guilt is insane. (ohh LOVE THATTT!!! ESPECIALLY W UR EARLIER THING OF FINN N POE SEEING THEMSELVES AS CANON FODDER WITHOUT A GALACTIC DESTINY)

Hope you enjoyed reading these and that they weren’t too much of a bore. Maybe I’ll write some of this stuff down if people like it. (EVERYONE TELL ANON HOW MUCH YOU LIKE THIS RIGHT NOW)

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

Rewrite anon again (sorry)

Rey does of course lose her hand (fair, as is tradition) and she replaces it with a shitload of gadgets massively egged on by Han and Chewie. I think she’d have a special glove for it kind of like the equalist gloves in LOK. (SICK!)

Would also be great to have a ‘jedi’ protagonist who is even less aware of standard practice than Luke and will try definitely illegal moves like changing the length of the blade mid fight or kicking sand in your opponent’s eyes. (LMAO amazing omg)

---------------------------------------- (that was the last ask)

Me and my friend had some fun trying to rewrite the sequel trilogy a while ago and I think the best idea we had was Luke dies and Han and Rey get stranded on some nowhere planet where he has to haphazardly attempt to teach her years of jedi training in like a week entirely by reading out of Luke’s notes (somehow even worse than Luke’s extremely DIY training in the OT).

This isn’t at all based on the ‘Han has the force’ theory it’s literally just crabby atheist old man Han Solo and his dead best friend’s religious texts that are totally useless to him vs the world.

i LOVE that, disney needs to get you two rewriting the sequels STAT

(commission info // tip jar!)

[vettelsvee]

COME WHAT MAY SERIES Prologue (previous): A phone call and a new beginning

⋆ Hey everyone! I'm almost done writing the first part of Come What May series and, since many of you are waiting for it and, also, asking me when I'll be posting... here's the beginning of the chapter and its name! ⋆ Special tags to @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri for being interested in this series <3 And of course special thanks to @maripiastri because Come What May series wouldn't exist without her 😭 ⋆ Also... let me know if you'd like me to post the chapter this week instead of next one! I'm open to suggestions, comments and questions too 🤠

"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice, your little sister, snapped you back to reality.

Carefully, you put away the diary your best friend gave you, and your main source of therapy, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with a joy you hadn't felt in a long time.

You walked over to your desk, gently moving aside the scattered notes you still hadn't cleaned up despite having finished the semester two weeks ago. You made sure you looked as presentable as possible. Your hair, which fell over your shoulders, was perfectly straightened, though your bangs needed a little fixing. You decided to apply some lip balm as well not just to keep your lips hydrated, but to give them a little extra shine.

Then, somehow nervously for reasons you didn't want to recognize, you decided to adjust your clothes focusing on your own reflection, trying to come with positive affirmations about how everything you got was absolutely deserved.

You knew all too well that Sebastian Vettel was your best friend but, somehow, you always tried not only to look as perfect as possible in front of him, but also to let him know that you were truly worthy of his friendship.

No matter how much the German had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern and he was one of the team's drivers, you always had the feeling of not being for enough for him... Of not being worth to be close to him.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing your two younger sisters.

"Why are you taking so long?" Amelie, 15, asked. "It's not like your boyfriend is the one who came..."

"Yeah, yeah! Why are you extra pretty today?" the youngest, Louisa, who was 8, chimed in. "Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He's talking to dad and uncle Hans, and I think they're talking about soccer. It's super boring."

"Shut up, would you?" the middle sister scolded the youngest, giving her a light tap on the shoulder. "Ignore her," she said to you. "What they're really doing is trying to figure out why Sebastian came over today and, more importantly, why he's staying with us for a few days. Care to explain?"

Your eyes widened because, as far as you remembered the conversation you had, Seb never mentioned anything about staying with you.

"What do you mean staying with us? Seb really said that?"

"Uncle Hans thinks he's just your friend, but dad thinks you're sleeping with him at the same time as Mark," Amelie replied.

"How could I be sleeping with Seb?!" You shouted, pulling your sisters into your bedroom and slamming the door shut. "That's... that's ridiculous. Yeah, that's what it is," you finished, trying your best not to curse and, also, trying to calm your nerves.

"But if dad says it, it must be true, Y/N," Lou said, a little annoyed. "You know dad never lies to us."

That was a lie, and you knew it perfectly. However, for her was just... the reality you made her live in since Bernhard, your dad, told the three of you he was dying from cancer.

"Listen to me, both of you," you cut in, ignoring their words. "I need you to behave and promise me something."

Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at their older sister.

"I don't want you to mention anything Mark related in front of Seb. No jokes, no offhand comments about how much you dislike him... Absolutely nothing. Got it?"

"Why can't I tell Seb that I don't like Mark even it's the truth? Do I have to lie to him?" Lou asked innocently. "You always say we don't have to lie."

"Well, because..."

"If you're doubting so much it's because you really are fucking Seb. Don't get me wrong, but..."

"Amelie, watch your mouth, you're not alone!" you shouted, cursing her off while glancing at the youngest of you three.

"What does fucking mean? Does it mean you're boyfriend and girlfriend?" Louisa asked again, curious and innocent.

"Seb doesn't have a girlfriend anymore, okay?"

Your statement left the other two stunned. Louisa had really liked Hanna since she had always been nice to all of you whenever you'd met. Amelie, on the other hand, started wondering why the German driver, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend for years, had suddenly broken up with her.

"Seb isn't with Hanna anymore?"

[mxltifxnd0m]

motel chats  ── . ✶ ruby

summary: you find ruby in your motel room and she wants have a "chat"

pairings: bi! ruby 2.0 x bi! reader, ruby x gn afab! reader, mentions of samruby and slight unrequited sam x reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, set in szn 4 sometime after ep 4.10, no use of 'y/n', reader is described to be taller than ruby, cursing, smut, hate sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering (ruby receiving), implied switch! ruby and reader, name-calling (whore, slut), face sitting, some degradation, a prequel to my 'you did what?' fic but can be read as a standalone, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 3.5K a/n: first ruby fic/smut!! never thought id be writing a ruby fic but alas im too gay for her not to write one for her bc well look at her LOL also my first time writing wlw (f/f) smut so give me a little bit of grace <3 also there are like no ruby fics out there so i barely had any frame of references outside of mari's fics T-T alas i hope you ruby lovers/freaks enjoy this one ruby masterlist

AT THIS POINT, you don't know if it's too late to change what you're doing with your life. You swiftly swung the iron crowbar at the spirit that was charging at you in its grave that you had just dug up. You were so close to getting rid of this ghost, but of course, it couldn’t be easy for you. 

You had found a simple salt and burn just a couple hours away from Bobby’s. You had asked if the boys wanted to come with you, but they had denied since the brothers were trying to figure out how to stop Lilith from breaking more seals. Which, you had to admit, was out of your league when it came to the world of the supernatural. You tried helping them out as best as you could, but sometimes you felt like you were in their way when it came to helping them put a stop to the end of the world. 

You never thought that your life would be this level of crazy, but since reconnecting with the Winchesters, it’s pretty much turned your life upside down (even more so than you thought possible).

The ghost quickly disappeared when the iron made contact with its translucent form. You tried to use your lighter, but it wouldn’t light for a moment, and you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand as you heard a whoosh come from behind you. You swung your crowbar again, and the ghost evaporated. 

“Just fucking light already.” You grunted out, frustrated as your thumb was flicking against the flint of the lighter. Once, then twice, you tried lighting it before the flame flickered to life. You quickly threw the lighter into the open coffin, igniting the salted and gasoline-soaked corpse. You clambered out of the open grave and saw the remnants of the ghost ‘dying’ for good as the body was set aflame. 

You let out a sigh, your body sagging in relief and tiredness as you lay back onto the cool grass of the cemetery you were in. 

“Next time, I’m forcing one of them to come with me.” You muttered into the silent night. Despite having solo hunted for the majority of the time, you have to say that having another pair of hands (or two, for this matter) was oh so very helpful when it came to having to dig up a dead body and getting rid of the spirit. You let out another sigh before sitting up, a small groan leaving your lips. 

Fuck me. You thought as you got up from the ground and grabbed your shovel, preparing to shovel the dirt back into the hole you just dug up. 

You stalked towards your motel room, the parking lot empty, save for your car and a couple of other ones scattered throughout the lot, but paid no mind to them as exhaustion riddled your brain. You had one goal in mind, and that was to get to your room, shower, and then collapse in bed, hoping you could sleep for at least six hours. 

You threw the duffle that was haphazardly slung on your shoulder on the foot of one of the two queen beds you had in the room. You sifted through it to grab some comfortable clothes and your toiletry bag before you made your way to the bathroom. You stayed underneath the stream of water until it ran cold, scrubbing off all of the dirt and grime that was on your body from the hunt. You quickly went through your nighttime routine, eager to fall into bed and let sleep take you away from the land of the living temporarily. 

But when you exited the bathroom, irritation started to brew in your chest when you saw a familiar brunette laying on the vacant bed. 

Ruby’s head turned when she heard the bathroom door open, and you came out of it. She smirked when she saw how your mood shifted from tired to annoyed when you laid eyes on her. 

“Wow, don’t you look great.” Ruby snarked as she sat up on the bed, and her eyes looked you up and down. 

You couldn’t recognize the look in her eye as her gaze roamed your figure, only in a tank top and some boy shorts style underwear. You wore this getup when you had the rare opportunity to be on a solo hunt or have a room to yourself. 

But you decidedly ignored how she was looking at you and scowled. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” You were tired and didn’t want to deal with her bullshit at the moment. 

“We,” Ignoring your words, she stood up from the bed and gestured between the two of you, “Need to have a little chat.” Ruby’s hips swayed slightly as she began to walk towards you. 

You scoffed. “No, we don’t.” You crossed your arms as you leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, and your eyes never left Ruby’s brown ones as she strode towards you. 

Ruby had a sly smirk on her face. “You really don’t like me do you?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry did I not make that abundantly clear the last time we had a ‘chat’?” You cocked your head to the side. “Because if it wasn’t I can refresh your memory.” Sarcasm and irritation bled through your words as the demon in front of you kept you from sleeping. 

This wasn’t the first time Ruby had cornered you alone. The two of you had a bit of “girl talk” (Ruby’s words, not yours) the night after you and Dean found out what Sam was doing late at night after you had noticed that he would sneak out at night shortly after getting Dean back from Hell. That conversation was filled with thinly-veiled insults, alongside Ruby being able to rile you up until she decided she was done having fun and disappeared when you turned your back on her. 

Ruby had rolled her eyes at your words but was standing in front of you now, only a few feet away. You had a couple of inches on the demon, having to tilt your head down to meet her eyes as Ruby stared up at you, amusement gleaming in her eyes at your foul mood. But the look you couldn’t recognize was back in her gaze. 

A scowl etched your face, trying to mask how Ruby’s proximity had lit something within you, but you stamped it down, letting annoyance coat your features. 

“Look, this won’t take long if you stop being a smartass for a second and you listen to me,” Ruby said as she crossed her arms—the action pushing up her breasts, making her cleavage slightly more prominent in the low-cut shirt she was wearing. 

Your eyes flicked down to Ruby’s chest for a second before meeting her eyes—yours narrowing as you stared her down. 

“What do you want?” You asked through gritted teeth, deciding that if you wanted her gone faster, you would need to be cooperative (even though deep down you didn’t want to).  

The corner of her lips twitched. “I need your help.” 

“Nope.” 

“You haven’t even-” 

You shook your head. “Not in a million years am I going to help you with anything. Go ask Sam. I’m sure he’d be willing to help you since you got him wrapped around your finger.” You spat out his name bitterly, knowing that Sam was under her spell and would be at her beck and call if it wasn’t for you or Dean trying to convince him that Ruby was bad news. 

Ruby dared to smirk at you, obviously loving the way she could rile you up. “If I knew any better, I’d think you’re jealous.” 

A sharp laugh left your lips. “Jealous? And what am I supposed to be jealous about exactly?” 

“I’m not blind,” Ruby cooed your name out, your jaw clenched at the sound of it falling from her lips. “I see the way you look at him when you think no one’s looking.” 

“Right,” you drawled out, “Pray tell Ruby, the all knowing demon, how do I look at my friend Sam?” You snarked at the demon standing in front of you. 

You were going to be honest with yourself; you had no idea how you looked at Sam anymore. The two of you were close growing up. When you reconnected with him and Dean, but after being AWOL for four months and finding him shacking up with Ruby, any inkling of feelings that you had for Sam that may have been more than platonic had been extinguished. But you’d be damned if you were going to admit that to the demon he was sleeping with. 

Ruby chuckled before taking a step closer to you. “Oh please, you’re not very discreet with your small glances or longing looks when his back is turned. I have eyes, you’re just lucky everyone is too wrapped up in themselves to even notice.” 

“Or just wrapped up in someone else.” You couldn’t help but mutter under your breath, hoping it was low enough that Ruby couldn’t hear. 

“So, you are jealous.” Ruby had that sly grin on her face, and all you wanted to do was wipe it off her face. 

You rolled your eyes before scoffing. “The only thing I’m jealous of is everyone else who is sleeping right now.” You kicked off the door frame and walked past Ruby, shoulder-checking her as you made your way to the bed with your bag on it. 

Ruby chuckled. “I’m sure you can stay up for a couple of more minutes. Besides, you aren’t that slick when trying to change the subject.” 

“Have you ever considered not bothering me?” 

“Not when I need your help.” 

You threw your head back with a groan escaping your lips. “For the last time, I’m not helping you with your schemes.” 

“Who said I was scheming?” You took a glance at Ruby, who had her head cocked to the side. 

“You’re a demon, you’re always scheming or lying.” You pointed out as you unzipped your bag, doing anything but looking at Ruby. 

“Do you think that lowly of me?” 

“Yes.” 

Ruby scoffed. “I’m sorry, who was the one who was tortured by Alastair because they knew the location of the rogue angel. Oh, right it was me.” 

Your head snapped to stare at her incredulously.“You helping us once doesn’t warrant my trust for a single second.” 

“And what about all of the times that I tipped off Sam. Come on, you have to admit that I do help you guys in some way.”

Anger filled your chest as you turned from the bed and quickly rushed at Ruby, grabbing her shoulder and pinning her against the wall—quickly placing your forearm against her windpipe, putting slight pressure against it, but not enough to cut off her air supply. 

“I’m only going to say this once so you better listen closely.” You said in a low voice, glaring at the demon in front of you. 

“I’m not going to be a pawn in this fucked up game of yours. You may have your claws deep into Sam and feeding him the delusion that you’re helping us, but I know that you have something up your sleeve. I don’t know your endgame, but you better believe I’ll kill you before you even get to reach it.” Your upper lip was threatening to twitch up in a snarl as you glowered down at Ruby. 

But all she did was smirk, making the anger boil in your blood. “Didn’t expect you to have some bite to you. Maybe you are just more than a pretty face.” 

“Has anyone told you to shut the fuck up?” You glared at her harder as you applied more pressure on her throat. 

Ruby let out a breathy laugh. “Sam does and most of the time, he has a pretty creative way of doing it.” 

You couldn’t help but flick your gaze down to her plush lips before meeting her brown eyes that were filled with mirth.

“Spare me the details.” You tried not to think about what she was suggesting about her and Sam, but you couldn’t help the spark of arousal that zipped down your spine. 

“Are you sure? Because I thought you would love to hear about how he forces me to my knees and makes me choke around his thick cock.” Ruby had a salacious smile pulled on her lips. 

“Shut up.” You growled out as you unconsciously leaned closer to her. 

“Make me.” She purred. “Or are you-” You quickly shut her up by smashing your lips against hers. 

Her lips were soft against yours as the two of you kissed each other fervently and hard. This wasn’t an innocent kiss between two people who liked each other; it was a filthy one meant to show who was in charge and you were winning. You felt her hands fly to your hips, pulling you closer to her body. You moved the arm that was against her neck to grab the nape of her neck as your other hand trailed down to the hem of her shirt.

You nipped at her bottom lip before delving into her mouth, tasting mint and the faintest hint of tequila. Your tongues fought for dominance, but you shoved her harder against the wall with your body, making a small moan escape her lips as you kissed her. Your lips left hers with a string of saliva connecting the two of you before you trailed your lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. The hand on her neck joined the other at the hem of her shirt—only detaching from her neck to pull the piece of clothing over her head. 

Your hands landed on her bare waist, the temperature of her skin being cooler than you expected it to be, but you paid no mind to it as you started to kiss and nip at her chest, leaving hickies scattered throughout her golden colored skin. Ruby’s hands were pulling at the hem of your tank top. You let her pull it up and off of you, throwing it to the ground before pulling you into another kiss—your bare breasts brushing against her bra-covered chest, making a low moan leave your lips at the feeling of your nipples brushing against the lacey material of it. 

Your hands moved up and around to her back to unclasp her bra. Once the straps fell down her arms and onto the ground in between the two of you, you grabbed her hips, pulled her away from the wall, and pushed her down roughly on the bed. You quickly got on top of her, slotting yourself in between her open legs, and kissed her roughly again as one of your hands quickly flicked open the button on the jeans she was wearing. You knew that Ruby could easily overpower you in this position, but she was letting you manhandle her like she couldn’t use her abnormal demon strength to turn the tables. 

You shoved your hands down her jeans and underwear, and a low whine escaped her lips when your fingers rubbed over her wet slit. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” You breathed against her lips, having pulled away from her now swollen lips. “Who knew a demon like you got off on arguing, but then again I should have expected it.” 

Ruby’s face scrunched up, and right before she could throw back a witty retort, a groan left her lips instead at the feeling of your fingers rubbing circles on her clit. You went back to sloppily kissing at her neck, leaving trails of saliva as your lips moved down her chest and took one of her nipples in your mouth and sucked at the hardened nub. Your free hand kneaded the unoccupied breast—pinching and tweaking her nipple. 

Expletives and moans left Ruby’s lips as you sucked at her tits and rubbed at her clit. You stopped rubbing at her clit to shove two fingers into her slick cunt, moaning against her chest as you felt little resistance as your fingers entered her. You bit her nipple, tugging on it with your teeth before letting go of it. 

You moved up from her chest, leaving teasing kisses along her skin as you reached her ear. “Look at you moaning like a whore.” You nibbled at her earlobe and chuckled at her, feeling her clench around your digits at the name. 

“Oh, you liked that.” You teased her as you tried to locate the spongy spot inside of Ruby—your fingers speeding up as you did. “You like being talked down to like a slut?” 

A high-pitched whine left Ruby at your words, clenching again around your fingers as her hips reached to meet each thrust of your fingers. But you stopped your ministrations abruptly, leaving your fingers inside of her warm pussy as you pulled away from her ear, along with most of your body from her to use your free hand to grip the long hairs at the nape of her neck. 

“Tell me.” You tug at her hair, another moan escaping her lips as you do, making you smirk at how strung Ruby is for you. 

“Fuck.” She groaned out. “Yeah I do. Now are you gonna keep going or do I have to finish myself off?” Ruby managed to snap at you, her cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the noises she was making.

You couldn’t help but smile evilly at the plan that formed in your head at Ruby’s retort. “No, I’ll finish you off. But I have to get my fill first.” 

You promptly withdrew your fingers from her heated cunt and swiftly took off your soaked underwear. You grabbed both of Ruby’s wrists and climbed up her body, pinning her wrists with one hand as your naked cunt hovered Ruby’s mouth. 

You looked down at her to find her staring hungrily at your slick core. “Make me cum first and I’ll think about finishing you off.” Is what you said to her before lowering yourself down on her face, letting a soft sigh of pleasure leave your lips when you felt her tongue lave over your heated cunt. 

“Shit.” You moaned. “I can see why Sam uses your mouth like this, it’s the only thing that it’s good for when you’re not spewing your bullshit.” You managed to say as pleasure filled your veins and your hips rutted against Ruby’s mouth. 

Her tongue moved up and down your slit, tasting you for all you were worth before sucking your clit into her mouth, suckling on it before adding more suction to it. A louder moan escaped your lips as you ground your cunt harder down on her mouth. 

Ruby wouldn’t ever admit it, but it felt good to be used by you like this. If this meant she’d get one step closer to you helping her, then so be it. But she knew she wasn’t going to be able to hide the arousal that pooled in her underwear at the fact you used her like your personal toy. You weren’t shy about how hard you grinded down on her face. She moved from your clit to thrust her tongue in you—her nose bumping against your swollen clit sent you faster down to tipping over the edge. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good f’me Ruby, eating me out like a good little whore.” You gripped her wrists a little tighter, using your free hand to grip the top of her hair, and pulled at hair there—Ruby groaning at the sting of pain into you, sending vibrations through you. 

The motel room was filled with your moaning and groaning as you rode Ruby’s face to oblivion, and you didn’t care how loud you were. Ruby could easily have ripped herself out of your grip, but something in her wanted to submit to you, so she did, letting you use her however you pleased. 

Ruby had moved her talented tongue from your cunt and drew your clit into her mouth, and sucked hard on it. It threw you off the edge and into your orgasm. You came hard on her face, your pussy clenching around nothing as pleasure racked your body. She kept sucking on your clit as you came all over her face, wetting her chin and mouth with your slick until you shakily removed yourself from her face and collapsed next to her. Your grip on her wrists fell as you tried to calm yourself from the intensity of your orgasm. 

You could hear the rustling of the sheets right next to you but kept your eyes closed as you caught your breath. 

Before you could peel your eyes open, you felt cold hands grip your wrists and pin them to the bed. You opened your eyes to find a now naked Ruby hovering over you with a devilish smile on her face, but she didn’t bother cleaning your arousal from her face as she leaned down so her face was close to yours. 

“My turn.” Ruby’s lips brushed against yours as she spoke. 

From there you knew you were in for a long night.   

[join my taglist !; read rules before sending in an ask]

[scribblue]

@acksolotel618 Got inspired by this post and ended up using it as a writing prompt for a short scene with Zane and Garmadon!!

You can read it on Ao3 here , or after the cut

❆ A Lesson In Humanity ❆

Zane speaks to Garmadon about their shared history of being manipulated emperors.

{ 940 words, no major warnings }

"I was once like you."

The words landed heavily on Garmadon's shoulders, yet with further consideration he refused to believe they carried any real weight. Merely a vapid placation, or worse, outright mocking. He furrowed his brow. "You couldn't possibly understand me, metal man."

Zane stared back evenly. His eye contact was unwavering, unnatural. It felt as though he could see through Garmadon's very chemical makeup, and was intent on dissecting him down to his barest components like a hunk of biological technology. The nindroid stood on the catwalk connecting their underground base of operations to the elevator up to the monastery. The rest of the ninja had left to take a break, following a particularly intense—and unsuccessful— training session between Lloyd and Garmadon. Garmadon had to admit his surprise, if only internally, at the company he now found himself forcibly entertaining; Zane had never made an effort to speak to him one-on-one, and the cold shoulder was reciprocated.

"You are free to believe that, if a sense of individuality brings you comfort,” Zane said. “However, it is an inaccurate assessment."

Garmadon rolled his eyes. "Thank you for reminding me why we never spoke. You may leave now,” he said, waving a hand to dismiss him. 

Zane remained. An unsurprising development, and an aggravating one. "Do you not wish to know of our similarities?”

A frown crossed Garmadon’s face, and curiosity clouded his thoughts. He was quick to disperse it with a shake of his head; Zane was clearly trying to get under his skin, force his guard down so that he would ease up on Lloyd. It would never work. Mastering Oni form took an iron fist, not a distracted mind. He turned away and clasped both sets of hands behind his back, pretending to focus on the computers for a long moment.

Not long enough, evidently, as Zane made his continued presence known. “I am going to tell you anyway.”

“Great,” Garmadon muttered.

“When I was trapped in the Never Realm, I was manipulated into becoming the Ice Emperor: a cold and ruthless entity who spared no one in his quest for retaining power. My true self was hidden from me for sixty years, until Lloyd helped me restore it,” Zane said, a waver of emotion in his robotic voice. “It has been some time since it happened, yet I still feel the effects of this event to this day.”

“Hmm.” Garmadon pressed a couple buttons on the keyboard in an attempt to make his distraction look convincing. “I fail to see how that relates to me.”

He heard Zane take a small step forward. “When you became Emperor of Ninjago, that emperorship was predicated on lies and manipulation by Harumi. She encouraged you to reject your humanity, just as my advisor Vex did to me. And I am willing to bet you have also suffered lasting effects.”

Garmadon scoffed. “Please,” he said, turning a tight-lipped scowl towards Zane. “I am an oni, I never had humanity to reject…that is, until Vinny of NGTV news took me under his council. And even so, such humanity would not benefit me here. Lloyd needs to learn to release his oni form, and I can assure you I am in the perfect condition to do so—no ‘lasting effects’ as you say.”

“Perhaps that is true. Or perhaps you only wish it to be.” Zane’s pointed stare finally wavered, drifting to some far-off corner of the room. “I have spent much of my own spare time wrestling with the reality of my situation, versus what I wish to believe… It is difficult to grapple with the truth that I have hurt innocent people while under another’s influence. It sometimes holds me back from being the best version of myself that I can be, for fear of hurting others again.”

That did sound familiar, not that Garmadon was willing to admit it out loud. He was often plagued with memories of his short-lived reign over Ninjago, and the atrocities committed under his hand. He was loath to say he regretted any of them, in fact he wasn’t sure he was even capable of regret– nonetheless, the flashbacks were bothersome, and the more he attempted to embody “goodness”, the more frequent they became. “So…what? You believe I am compromised in some way? I can assure you I’m not.”

“I believe you have begun the process of betterment, without addressing the root of the issue.”

“...And what might that be?”

“Your relationship with Lloyd. You hurt Lloyd during your time as Emperor. Now, your beliefs and goals are changing, but you have not mended the rift that has grown between the two of you, or attempted to grapple with the effects your actions have on both yourself and others… you cannot expect to find success in the present, until you face your past,” Zane said. His even tone and matter-of-fact delivery did nothing to lessen the blow of his words. “You may not believe it, but Lloyd is your humanity. As he was mine, when I needed it most. Do not forget that he needs you too.”

Something twinged in Garmadon’s chest. He had half a mind to blame it on his incomplete resurrection, and perhaps that truly was the case; complicated emotions could simply be a byproduct of his botched vessel. He averted his gaze and said nothing. 

Zane didn’t attempt to break the silence, either. He lingered for just a moment longer, before turning heel and wordlessly leaving the room, where Garmadon remained alone with his thoughts. 

“…I won’t,” he said, knowing there was nobody there to hear him.

[luwritesstuff]

Hi! Could you possibly do something with Eddie Diaz? Maybe his Tia sets you up on a date 🙏🏽

this one was so cute and fun to write 🙊 let me know if you'd want a part 2!

Dating in the 21st Century

wc: 831

Pepa Diaz has been your mom’s client for years now. No one gave manicures like her and Pepa had ended up becoming her best friend in the process. You'd even met Pepa once or twice at the salon, and the occasional lunch your mom dragged you to.

It wasn't uncommon for your mom to try to set you up, it had become somewhat of a ritual of you gently letting guys down and reporting back to your mom on everything that had gone wrong on the date. So when she came to you to tell you about Pepa’s nephew, you couldn't hold back the sigh that escaped you.

“Mama, that's very sweet of Pepa, but I don't know if I have another blind date in me,” you called over your shoulder while you finished mopping the front of the salon. You didn't work there full time anymore, but you still helped out where you could.

Your mom tsk’ed you and pinched your side, “Don't be so pessimistic! I wouldn't tell you about him if I didn't think it was a good idea. Pepa showed me pictures, he's very pretty, mija,” she wiggled her eyebrows and managed to pull a small smile out of you, “Just one date, yeah? You can leave early if you hate it, but promise me you’ll try. His name is Eddie, you'll love him.”

You never really could say no to your mom, ultimately. You cursed her internally while doing the finishing touches to your makeup and adjusting your sundress. With any luck, you wouldn't have to go through this whole routine again anytime soon. Maybe your mom would give you a break after this one. After a final glance in the mirror, you threw your bag over your shoulder and left to meet your date at a small cafe you'd agreed on earlier in the week.

You arrived to find Eddie waiting by the entrance in a cream, long sleeved shirt and dark wash jeans. In an effort to keep an open mind like you'd promised your mom, you let yourself admire the way his shirt tightened around his biceps. So Pepa wasn't lying, he was attractive. “Hi, Eddie right?” You smiled and held a hand out to shake his.

After introducing yourself, you both ordered a latte and a pastry before finding a table on the patio to sit in the sun. Eddie was a perfect gentleman, he paid for your drink, held your chair out for you, made sure the sun wasn't in your eyes. You felt a sudden relief and let yourself relax into your seat. “Your Tia is your biggest fan, by the way. Her and my mom wouldn't let me rest until I agreed to meet the 'most amazing young man in LA’,” you teased, grinning at Eddie over the rim of your mug.

Eddie blushed easily and you filed that away for later. “She's all talk. She's just getting tired of me being single,” he laughed and leaned back in his chair, “you'd think her full time job was setting me up on dates.” You let out a dramatic groan, “You too? My mom bought me a subscription to a dating app for my birthday last year!”

This made Eddie let out a shocked laugh and you noticed the way his eyes crinkled and you were already thinking of ways to get him to laugh more. You took turns telling first date horror stories and making each other laugh. Eddie was good at that, you found. You hadn't laughed like that in ages, not in a way that wasn't forced or awkward. Eddie told you about his son, showed you pictures, and the way you took in each one made Eddie’s heart leap with possibilities. Maybe his Tia was right, maybe you'd be good for him.

“I just feel like there's so much pressure to date, you know? I have to act a certain way, say the right things, it's exhausting. I just want to be myself,” you sighed and Eddie felt more secure than he had in years. He agreed wholeheartedly and you felt comfort in knowing that you were with someone who wasn't interested in putting on an act or playing some stupid game.

After another few hours and more shared pastries, Eddie walked you to your car. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn't feel the need to come up with some lame excuse and you found yourself wishing the day was longer. You didn't have to ask if Eddie felt the same way, he pressed a careful kiss to your cheek and squeezed your hands in both of his own. “Can I see you again?” he whispered and you nodded, returning the kiss to his cheek, “Please.”

Your mom and Pepa spent their next appointment gossiping over your date, and the two dates after. And they were totally not smug about it, only saying ‘I told you so’ a reasonable four times.

[accirax]

Translating and Analyzing Project: Eden's Garden's Title Theme

Haven't personally seen anyone else do this yet, so I figured I'd share my curiosity stirred up by the just-released Main Title Theme Live Symphony Performance with the class.

As a note, I don't speak Latin at all, so I will be relying on Google (including Google Translate) to help me out. Therefore, it's possible that some segments-- especially longer sentences or phrases-- may be translated incorrectly. If you do speak Latin and notice something that's off, I'd love to know!

This post will contain spoilers for Chapter 1, so please don't read this if you aren't caught up. That being said, let's get started with my most enthralling "theory" to date: trying to reverse engineer teaching myself Latin.

Because multiple sets of lyrics are occasionally sung at the same time, it's possible that my screenshots will contain multiple phrases in them. I'll do my best to avoid having that happen as much as possible, but otherwise, the explanatory captions under the pictures should make it clear which section I'm talking about!

A simple search of "omnibus" returns that it means "to all," but "omnibus de omnibus" becomes "everything about everything." This online Latin-English dictionary clarifies that the noun "omnis" can mean "all people" or "all things/everything." The -ibus suffix could be indicative of the locative, dative, or ablative tense. Ohio State University explains that the locative conjugation indicates the place where something happens, the dative conjugation indicates the person to whom something happens, and the ablative tense is really complicated could either mean why something happened (its origin) or how something happened (the means by which it occurred).

From what I can tell, "dubitandum" seems much simpler. It's just the gerund form of the verb "dubitare," which means "to doubt." In English, a gerund is a word that ends in "-ing" but is used as a noun. "Writing" in the sentence "I like writing" is a gerund because writing is a thing (a noun) that I like. Although dubitandum is a viable conjugation for many verb tenses, it seems to appear most often in the accusative case, which refers to "the end destination."

Stringing it together, "omnibus de omnibus dubitandum" would probably mean something like "all people will eventually doubt everything", or, as Google Translate would put it, "to doubt everything about everything."

"De omnibus dubitandum" specifically is apparently a common phrase (attributed to Renee Descartes) that just means "doubt everything." According to the link I just pasted, it was also a favorite saying of Karl Marx. C-Cassidy...?

Next is both a low register and a high register singing "fiat voluntas tu." "Fiat" is the singular present tense of "to do," so basically just "do." "Voluntas" seems to pop up most frequently as a noun, meaning "will" or "intent." And "tua", much like the Spanish "tú," just means "your." Smashing those together results in "do your will," or as Google Translate more eloquently puts it, "your will be done." "Thy will be done," if you want to get really fancy.

Here comes a long one. In total, the full sentence reads, "liber scriptus proferetur, in quo totem continentur, unde mundus judicetur." Thankfully, I don't have to translate this one. My boy William Josiah Irons already did it for me!

Reason being, this line is taken directly from the medieval Latin poem Dies Irae, AKA Day of Wrath, by Thomas of Celano. (And no, I did not know this offhand, I had to look this up too). Irons' translation tries to keep the original rhyme and meter of the Latin version, so if you want to sing along, use this:

Lo, the book, exactly worded, Wherein all hath been recorded, Thence shall judgement be awarded.

However, if that version is a bit too fancy for you, Wikipedia has a more modern translation:

The written book will be brought forth, in which all is contained, from which the world shall be judged.

If you're like me and know nothing about religion, you might see "book" in a medieval Roman (AKA Catholic) song and immediately assume that they're talking about the Bible. However, if Wikipedia is to be believed, they're referencing a different piece of literature which, to be fair, is at least mentioned in the Bible...! The Book of Life in Christian faith is "God’s record of all those over the centuries who have trusted Christ as their Savior and have followed Him as Lord." Therefore, the "all that is contained" would refer to the names of all of the holy people who believe in Catholicism.

The world-judging bit refers to "Judgment Day" or "The Last Judgment." That term refers to belief that, someday, Jesus Christ will return to Earth, and at that point, God will judge everyone who's ever lived, saving the faithful people and damning the non-believers. There are varying beliefs on whether more people would be saved or more people would be damned, but considering the song is called "Day of Wrath," I have to imagine Mr. Celano wasn't that optimistic. This song is famously associated with Catholic funeral masses too, so that upbeat attitude really stuck.

I could barely even hear this part under the music, but the subtitles alerted me to the fact that the chorus chants "da mihi factum, dabo tibi ius" here! This is another one I don't have to translate, because it's a reference to something else B)

"Da mihi factum, dabo tibi ius" means "give me the facts, I will give you law," according to A Guide to Latin in International Law via Oxford Reference. The reason why it's written in Latin is because, apparently, this saying originates from the Roman court system.

Looking at the bottom row, the lower-pitched chanting says, "vulnerant omnia, ultima necat." This semi-common phrase typically translates to, "all hours wound, the last one kills," even if the "hour" ("horae") isn't included.

The top comment on this Reddit thread breaks it down the way I would if I inherently knew Latin:

Let's review the underlying grammar: Vulnerant=they wound omnia is ambiguous because it can be both the subject and the object of vulnerant. However, in this case, horae is understood to be the subject, so omnia must be the object. It means all things. If it were omnes, then it would also be ambiguous because omnes can also be both as well. [...] So Vulnerant omnia [horae]=all [hours] wound* or the hours wound all things. The second one isn't very pleasant. And Vulnerant omnes [horae]=all [hours] wound* or the hours wound [men/men and women]. Ultima necat=the last kills

The comment also elaborates that the "horae" is assumed because the phrase is often found on clocks or sundials in churches. Many different sources return this phrase (or slight variations on it) including hours in the meaning, so I'm inclined to believe that it's true.

The bottom line repeats the same phrase again after this, so I won't include it for a second time.

Our final line! In the middle row, we have "Opere et veritate, de omnibus dubitandum!" This one isn't a reference, but luckily it's still easy enough to figure out.

The second half of the sentence is something we've looked at before. As a recap, "de" means "of," "omnibus" means "of everything/everyone", and dubitandum means "doubting." So, the second half of the sentence will probably mean something like "doubting of everything."

"Opere," much like "opus" is a noun meaning "work," as in a work of art. "Et" means "and," and "veritate" means "truth." The handy-dandy Latin-Is-Simple.com conveniently puts this together as "in action and in truth."

Together, the sentence means something like "in action and in truth, have doubt of everything/everyone." Google Translate puts it as "by work and truth, we must doubt everything," but I like my translation better.

Therefore, altogether, here's a rough translation of the P:EG theme's lyrics:

All people will eventually doubt everything... Thy will be done... The Book of Life will be brought forth, in which the names of all the holy are contained, and then the world will be judged. Give me the facts, I will give you law! All hours wound, the last hour kills. In action and truth, doubt everything and everyone. All hours wound, the last hour kills!

So, let's swap out our translator hats for lyrical analysis hats, 'cause there's obviously a lot here to relate to P:EG and the concept of killing games as a whole.

The first two lines paired together are a prophecy, a threat and a promise combined. Basically, the choir is saying, "you think that people will eventually doubt everything? Well, here's your wish come true!" The line clearly connects to Damon and his core philosophy. As long as Damon continues to not want to trust anybody, then nobody will seem trustworthy. Furthermore, if Damon continues to not trust others, that means there will always be one person in the group who won't be trustful, so everyone being trustful is impossible.

Not that it's much of a surprise, but the kinda judgy tone of these first two lyrics definitely implies that Damon's attitude will be challenged (and likely corrected) at some point in the story. "Thy will" was a stylization, but the truth remains that the phrase referred to a singular entity. The lyrics place the focus on a single individual, and blames them for everything that follows by implying that the lack of trust is their fault. It's very reminiscent of the end of the Prologue, where the entire class blames Damon and Eva for ruining the vibes between them.

The Day of Wrath section continues the game's religious theming, invoking discussions of the end of all times. Although I doubt a literal Armageddon will happen in P:EG, I can certainly understand how the participants of the killing game would consider it the end of all things. Certainly, a lot of less-than-virtuous people will be dying here, especially if you're under the assumption that everyone who kills is morally bankrupt.

It's certainly an interesting implication that those in the killing game who are most virtuous might be the ones who are saved. Are they just extending that morality to how likely someone is to kill them? Like, people wouldn't kill you if they think you're cool? There is also the argument that students who are too curious or have something to hide are more likely to find themselves in deadly situations (a la Wolfgang), leaving the less bold students alive in the end. Still, that's not as much of a judgment on God's (Tozu's?) part.

Something in me wonders if this killing game might have been created as a challenge. I don't think that the motivations behind it would be to punish this group of students in particular-- we know semi-factually that some of their deepest, darkest secrets are hardly anything to sneeze at. Instead of being so targeted, the goal would be to have most of the students fail, while a select few succeed.

There's a definite possibility that Eden's Garden College-- and the titular Project: Eden's Garden-- is a ploy to weed out the "fake Ultimates" by proving who truly has what it takes to succeed in the cutthroat world of business by literally cutting people's throats. Becoming the "true face of talent" could mean literally erasing the other faces of those who weigh the title of Ultimate down; with so many Ultimates around, it's easy to not notice if one or two go missing.

If we're in a world where talent is valued above all else, the "virtue" that Tozu could be sparing them for could be talent itself. "Leadership, communication, and persuasion" are certainly skills that could help you survive a Class Trial (whether as a blackened or spotless). Depending how deep the corruption goes in this world, it's possible that the graduates of Eden's Garden Academy-- survivors of former killing games-- are simply willing to keep quiet about the Academy's dark secret if it means that they can claim all of the accolades for themselves. They fought for and earned it, after all.

If this is the direction the story takes, I can definitely see how making someone like Damon the protagonist would be the perfect choice. For him to spend all game talking about his superiority and belief in the talents of the Academy only to learn that all of the Ultimates he admired kept 14 nearly-as-talented skeletons in their closet would surely create an interesting internal conflict for the final Class Trial.

This is all just a theory, as there are plenty of other ways the Day of Wrath poem could relate to P:EG. However, I think it's a theory with a decent backing behind it.

"Give me the facts, I will give you law"-- I mean, that has to relate to Wolfgang, right? Even beyond the fact that it just says "law" in it, it's international law, perfect for an Ultimate Lawyer who wants to unite everyone. This line could definitely indicate how Wolfgang took Damon's facts (that some people in the Academy would be willing to kill) and turned them into ammunition for his own missive. If I were writing this analysis before Ch1 dropped, I would probably have speculated more about the future rivalry between Damon and Wolfgang. Instead, Damon and Wolfgang's "rivalry" is already over, with honestly not that much beef between them.

Given that Wolfgang is dead, it's also worth it to consider this outside of a Wolfgang context moving forward. This line could also relate to Damon's experiences in solving a Class Trial: after getting the facts of the case, Damon goes to the Class Trial Grounds and lays down the law.

"All hours wound, the last hour kills" is super interesting in the context of a killing game. My immediate connection was to the chapters, or in-universe Trials, of the killing game. All chapters of the game will wound Damon and the eventual other survivors, but it's the final chapter in which they're confronted with the true despairs of the world.

Another interpretation could work on a more chapter-by-chapter basis: every day in the killing game damages something, whether it's the killer's sanity or their business/reputation out in the real world, so it's in their "last hour" when they snap and need to get out. Especially with the ticking clock of the Traitor Perk out there for Eva at least and possibly future killers as well, time feels like a big factor.

In general, I would assume that (if the quote is found on clocks in churches) the phrase probably means something along the lines of "don't procrastinate," which could also be applied to the concept of Ultimates in general. They're always on that grindset.

And finally, "in action and truth, don't trust anything or anyone." This line is pretty unremarkable (being a pretty obvious repetition of Damon's mindset at the beginning of the game) other than in contrast with the beginning of the song. As I said, at the beginning of the song, the choir was almost reprimanding Damon with their "thy will be done." However, here, not trusting anything or anyone is spoken more like advice.

It could be that the choir was actually speaking more neutrally at the beginning, and that they're willing to accept the lack of trust because they always knew it would happen. Or, it could be that, by this point in the song, the lyrics have shifted to represent Damon's point of view instead of the universe's. If "I will give you law" did relate to Damon laying down the law, maybe that "I" pronoun is the point of the song at which the lyrics become Damon's thoughts?

Otherwise, maybe the choir is just meant to make Damon feel bad no matter what he does. Let's assume that, over the course of the game, Damon will come to trust certain individuals more. If true, then at the beginning of the game, the choir could be like "damn if you want to not trust people then it's kinda your fault what happens next dude," and closer to the end they could be like "oooooooh you wanna not trust people so bad remember Eva?" If the song is just meant to be an imposing feel-bad moment, then the emotions of the impartial choir could be unimportant.

And, well, that's the song! As is basically my brand, this post wound up way longer than I thought it would, back when I thought I was just going to Google Translate all the lyrics and be done with it. But, I hope that learning a bit about Latin was intriguing (assuming I did it correctly), and that the plotlines implied by the lyrics have given you a bit to chew on!

Still working on the overall Ch1 review/analysis, I just thought that writing this post would only take me, like, half an hour... Hopefully I'll see you back whenever that's done! Until then!

[lightlycareless]

I finally got it out of my system but omg you do not know how much it took me to write this, like??? I wanted but words simply did not come out. I feel burnt outtttttt :( it must be stress.

Anyways, I still hope you enjoy it.

warnings: none. fluff. you have a baby girl with naoya but what's new? and before anyone comes for me he is REFORMED hahahahah 🙈🙈🙈

Happy reading!

Imagine your and Naomi’s first slumber party. Obviously, everything you do with her is special, your highlight of the day, but this particular event stood out from the rest.

Firstly, because you got to see your adorable baby’s reaction to things she’s never seen before, or more like try out such as manicures, pedicures, make-up, and her favorite: press on nails.

The endless possibilities with such when it comes to designs are enough to keep Naomi thrilled, though she always goes with Hello Kitty.

And secondly, because of a surprise you have prepared for the end of the night; but for now…

“Mama, I want that one please!!” she gasped enthusiastically, not wanting to miss the opportunity to decorate her nails with her beloved cat. “Please mama!!”

“Of course, dumpling. I got them solely for you!” You grin, glad to see your baby having a good time.

“Can you also do my make up?” she quietly asks, as if afraid you’d tell her no. When in reality you had long prepared for this request; it was no secret to you how fascinated Naomi was with you whenever getting ready, rushing to your side as soon as you approached the vanity table so she could see all the magic that entailed makeup.

Luckily, that mystery was to end now.

“Do I look pretty like you mama?” Naomi asks, causing you to coo.

“Oh, even prettier!” you gush, taking her into your arms and kissing her flushed cheeks.

“No mama, you’re pretty!” she counters. “Like a princess!”

“Stop it, mochi. You’re going to make me cry…”

“No crying, only smiles!” Naomi insisted, making you giggle.

“Alright, I won’t cry. Now, do you want to do my makeup?”

Naomi gasps.

“Can I??”

“Of course! It’s what you do in slumber parties!”

Naomi undoubtedly has the time of her life trying out all the things she always wanted to do with your makeup, careless of her inexperience, if she knew which colors matched well with other or what would make your features stand out, because in her mind, she was already the best! Just as you continuously encouraged her.

From there, the rest of the night continued on by watching movies and eating your and her favorite snacks—mochi. Naomi was nothing short of a delighted ray of sunshine before these treats, giddily enjoying all of the things that’s she’s normally limited on: like endless snacks and of course, a child’s ultimate defiance! A thing that totally made her close to being a grown up…

Staying up past her bedtime.

However, your darling pumpkin, not being used to doing that, quickly succumbed to slumber just after the first movie ended, though it might be because her overexcitement for the whole ordeal exhausted her more than usual.

And while it wasn’t necessarily in your plans, the sight of her breathing peacefully underneath the warm covers made you smile, the natural response to a successful, fun night.

“She’s completely knocked out, isn’t she?” Mariya, who came in to check on you before eventually staying around after Naomi begged her to, noted. You giggle.

“Yeah, my poor baby, but sometimes it seems she’s unable to stop, you know?” you jest, gently caressing Naomi’s tummy. “She’s growing so fast; I wish she would stay small a little longer…”

“I think it might be time for the second one.” Mariya teases, you blush.

“Oh, shut up…” you murmur, she laughs.

“You’re not denying it.”

“I’ve thought about it, but… well, Naoya and I rarely have time to ourselves now that he’s of a higher rank, so I don’t know how that’s going to happen.” You lament.

“Hmmm… but it seems to me you always make the best out of it, don’t you? Naoya always leaves the estate with a smile that implies satisfaction, after all.” you turn bright red.

“Mariya!”

“I’m just teasing you, Y/N.” She smiles, you laugh along. “But now that we’re talking about it… I guess it doesn’t hurt to say that Naomi-chan sometimes asks me if she’s ever going to have a little brother or sister to play with.”

“Really?” you breathed, she nods.

“Yeah; it’s not frequent but, you know, she has her moments.” Mariya recounts, carefully one of Naomi’s hair locks behind her ear. Such a beautiful angel, she wonders if she’ll ever have her own.

“I’d like a boy.” You confess. “To have a set, as many say. Can you imagine? Another baby that looks just like Naoya! Though whatever we end up having is fine by me, really. To have a family is a blessing by itself.”

“And Naoya? Has he told you what he would like?”

“No, but I’m sure he’d like another girl, no matter how much he tries to deny it.” Because you’ve seen it through how gentle and doting he is with your baby.

How he’s always asking for her every time he’s away, not a single second is she out his mind… and with how Naomi calls for him too, constantly asking you if her papa is to return soon, because even to her videocalls and gifts are not enough to ease her unbearable yearning.

Oh, how you miss him.

Thankfully, your pleads would no longer continue unattended when a servant suddenly knocks on your door to brief you of the event you’ve been eagerly waiting for; immediately glancing at Mariya who gives you an encouraging nod in return, as if letting you know Naomi will be ok, before standing up and heading towards the exit.

To the arms of your melancholic husband whose face lights up as soon as his eyes land on you. A homesick man that was glad to finally be back home.

“Naoya! Oh, Naoya, you’re back.” You breathe, quick to embrace him and press your face against his chest, hiding your tears between his clothes.

Normally, he would’ve teased you for your reaction, make his best to cheer you up, but in the wake of months of absence, all Naoya could do is take your presence even deeper into his soul, hoping that he wouldn’t succumb to his own tears either as he tries to imprint your warmth, your scent, your love into his body to never forget.

“I missed you.” You confess, Naoya kisses the top of your head. “I can’t believe you’re here! It—it almost seems like a dream…!”

“I know. I can’t believe I’m here either, after so long…” Naoya responds, hugging you tighter. “But I am, and I missed you too, so much.”

“Please tell me you’re not leaving soon; you just came back.” You plead, looking up to him with that teary, dreadful look that always made his heart tighten.

More so if he knows he’s to disappoint you.

“I…Y/N—”

“No, you’re right. We don’t have to talk about that right now.” You shake your head, putting aside the sour thought of his departure for another time. Right now… “All that it matters is that you’re home. With us. With me.”

“Where’s Naomi? I wish to see her, if it’s not too late of course.” Naoya smiles, you giggle.

“Actually, there was something I was planning to do for you that involved her, but I think I failed.”

“Let me guess, you tried keeping her awake to see me?” He rightfully assesses, you nod.

“Yeah, I planned a whole slumber party to do so, but, well, you know how our baby is. She gets too excited and then, she passes out!”

Naoya laughs, his heart warming up at these small moments he missed dearly. Thankfully, he’s now able to partake in them once more.

“But she’ll still be excited to see you in the morning nonetheless.” You add before grabbing his hand and guiding him to your shared bedroom, where your precious angel slept. “Come now, I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer!”

And it takes great effort for Naoya to not cry at the sight of his baby girl soundly sleeping in his bed, though he is unable to resist joining her, carefully laying by her side as you joined him soon after, resting your face on his chest, where home is.

“You did her nails?” He notes at her small, clenched fist. Naoya wishes to hold it but decides against it in fear of waking her up.

“Yeah, do you like them?” you smile. “I did mine too—we can do yours later if you’d like.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Naoya smirks.

“I wholeheartedly believe you’d look good with black nails.” You affirm.

“No better than inside you.”

“Naoya!” you playfully smack him, a noise that inadvertently wakes up your small dumpling up.

“Ma…ma?” Naomi’s soft voice makes you and Naoya’s breath hitch to their throat, keeping still as she seems to appear unaware of her papa’s presence, as seen in the following question. “Is papa home yet…?”

To know that her first waking thought is to wonder about her father makes your heart soar, and unable to keep her in the dark any longer, you rush to give her the good news—

Only for Naoya to stop you, planning instead to unveil the surprise tomorrow morning, just when all the gifts he got for her were set to arrive.

A splendid moment to signify his official return he wishes to conduct perfectly, happy to finally be back home, in the presence of his two beloved.

His loving family Naoya would do anything in the world to protect.

[gothicxreylover]

Hi can you please do the yandere giant hashira plus genya and wives x tiny reader with a part 2 when they tried to escape please sorry I know that just came out but if your in the mood for it then please do! I just like your writing skills and I love yandere g/t!

This Au is kinda growing on me 🙈 anyways I hope you enjoy! I’m sorry if your request hasn’t been answered yet but I’m tryin get best to felt as many as done as possible

Obanai Iguro

You’d made it far enough to believe you might escape Obanai’s sharp eyes, but you hadn’t accounted for Kaburamaru. The snake slithered through the grass, hissing softly as it blocked your path. Before you could dart away, Obanai’s shadow loomed over you, and his fingers snatched you up with practiced precision.

“Trying to run away?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His mismatched eyes bored into you, his calm exterior masking the possessiveness bubbling underneath. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you think I’d let you go?”

He held you close to his face, his fingers tightening just enough to keep you still. “This world isn’t kind to someone as small as you. I’m the only one who can keep you safe, and you’ll understand that… even if I have to make you.”

Kaburamaru coiled lazily around his neck, flicking its tongue in silent approval as Obanai began walking back to his mansion. “You’re mine. There’s no point in fighting it.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

You’d barely made it past the training grounds when a loud, furious voice froze you in your tracks. “You’ve got some nerve trying to escape!” Sanemi’s sharp eyes locked onto you as he stormed over, his scarred face twisted in anger.

Before you could hide, his hand snatched you up, his grip firm yet careful. “Do you even realize how stupid this was?” he growled, holding you up to his face. His voice was like a storm, and you couldn’t stop shaking. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed out there!”

Sanemi’s anger softened, though his possessive gaze remained. “You’re staying with me, whether you like it or not. If you try this again, I’ll make sure you don’t get the chance. Understand?”

His tone left no room for argument as he turned back toward his mansion, his steps heavy with frustration.

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri found you just as you were slipping into the tall grass. Her gasp startled you, and before you could hide, her hands gently scooped you up. “You were trying to leave?” she asked, her voice trembling with hurt.

Tears welled in her eyes as she cradled you against her chest. “Why would you do that? I’ve been doing everything I can to take care of you! Don’t you know how much I love having you here?”

Her tears fell onto you as she sniffled, holding you protectively. “You’re so fragile… so precious. I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t ever do this again!”

Her warmth and desperation were suffocating, and as she carried you back to her room, her grip never wavered. “I’ll do even more to make you happy… just promise me you won’t leave.”

Shinobu Kocho

You thought you were safe as you darted past the garden, but Shinobu’s soft laugh froze you in place. “My, my,” she said, crouching down to pick you up with delicate fingers. “A little escape attempt? How bold.”

Her violet eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and something darker as she held you up to her face. “I wonder what you were thinking. Did you really believe you could make it out there alone?”

Shinobu’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re so fragile, little one. I can’t let you wander off and hurt yourself. It seems I’ll have to keep a much closer eye on you from now on.”

Her gentle grip belied the steel in her words as she carried you back inside, her voice lilting with a mix of teasing and warning. “You belong here with me. Don’t make me remind you again.”

Kyojuro Rengoku

You’d almost made it past the gate when Rengoku’s booming voice called out, “Ah-ha! Where do you think you’re going, little one?” His strides were swift, and before you could hide, his massive hand scooped you up.

Rengoku’s fiery eyes narrowed as he held you at eye level, his expression a mix of disappointment and concern. “You were trying to leave? That’s not acceptable. The world is far too dangerous for someone as small and precious as you.”

He sighed, his voice softening but still firm. “I thought you trusted me to protect you. Have I failed you in some way?”

His grip was firm but not harsh as he walked back to his mansion, his voice filled with determination. “You’ll stay with me, where I can keep you safe. No more escape attempts. I won’t allow it.”

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro found you just as you were climbing over a rock near the edge of the forest. He tilted his head, his expression blank as he reached out to pluck you from your hiding spot.

“You’re trying to leave?” he asked, his voice soft but distant. “That’s not a good idea.”

He held you in his hand, his teal eyes staring at you with quiet intensity. “You’re too small to survive out there. It’s better if you stay with me.”

Though his tone was calm, there was an edge to his words that made your chest tighten. “Don’t do this again,” he said simply, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “I won’t let you go.”

Gyomei Himejima

You’d made it to the edge of the stream when Gyomei’s deep, rumbling voice stopped you in your tracks. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, kneeling down and gently scooping you into his massive hands.

His blind eyes were filled with sadness as he cradled you. “Were you trying to leave me?”

The hurt in his voice was palpable, and you felt a pang of guilt. “I’ve been protecting you because you’re so small, so fragile. The world is too dangerous for you.”

He sighed deeply, his prayer beads clicking softly. “I’ll have to ensure you never try this again. You are too precious to lose.”

Genya Shinazugawa

Genya caught you just as you were slipping into the bushes. His hands were rough but careful as he grabbed you, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt. “What the hell were you thinking?” he barked, holding you up to his face.

“You could’ve gotten hurt—or worse! Do you even realize how dangerous it is out there?” His voice cracked slightly, his tough exterior faltering. “I… I can’t let anything happen to you.”

His grip tightened protectively as he carried you back. “You’re staying with me. No more of this running away crap. I won’t let you go.”

Tengen Uzui and His Wives

You thought you’d escaped their watchful eyes, but Tengen’s flashy voice rang out, “Caught you, little one!” His massive hand reached out, scooping you up before you could react.

Makio crossed her arms, glaring. “You tried to leave? Do you know how dangerous that was?”

Suma clung to you, her eyes filled with tears. “Why would you do that? Don’t you like being with us?”

Hina gently stroked your back, her voice calm but firm. “You’re far too important to us to let you go. We’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Tengen grinned, though his eyes were cold. “You’re ours now. There’s no escaping that, little one.”

Giyu Tomioka

The stillness of the forest was comforting as you made your escape, but it didn’t last long. A sudden chill ran down your spine, and when you turned, Giyu was already there, standing silently, his piercing blue eyes locked onto you.

“You’re trying to leave,” he said flatly, his voice calm but carrying a quiet intensity that froze you in place. Before you could bolt, his hand moved swiftly, plucking you from the ground with precision.

He stared at you in his palm, his grip firm but not rough. “Why?” he asked, his tone soft yet laced with something deeper. “Have I not taken good care of you? Was it not enough?”

The weight of his gaze was suffocating. Though his expression was calm, there was an underlying possessiveness in his eyes. “You’re too small, too fragile to survive out there. The world is cruel, and you wouldn’t last a day.”

Giyu let out a soft sigh, his grip tightening slightly as he started walking back. “I won’t let you leave. It’s for your own good.”

When he reached his quarters, he placed you gently in a space he’d prepared for you, but his expression was colder than before. “You don’t need to understand why I’m doing this. Just know that you’re staying with me… forever.”

[sleepymmn]

Good for You

im sorry i just need to write abt pathetic loser choso when he gets his dick wet

Choso x Reader (reader has a pussay but no pronouns)

Warnings: pathetic choso, whining, begging, mentions of edging, choso calls you “babe” and “doll”, fem bodied reader

Synopsis: Choso is so confident in battle, but hes only good to you and your sweet sweet heaven

chosos so confident and strong on the field, building his cursed technique to help him get what he wants. hes so protective over you and its so cute, the way his hand is wrapped around your waist when youre talking to someone, his hands swatting yours when you dare suggest you pay- how dare you.

but all of it is gone when hes sinking into your soaking pussy

“oh fuck… s’good baby?”

his voice is whiny, sweat pulling his hair and sticking it to his head as he focuses all of his attention on you and your sweet tight pussy. he swears all of his senses are drunk on you.

“god.. you dont know what you do to me doll, s’sucking me in like crazy”

his head would rest against your neck, wanting to be as flush against you as possible when hes so overstimulated already

but he wants to be oh so good for you, to the point where you get edged by him edging himself, he never means to of course, but when its too much for both of you

“are you close.? please be close.. wanna cum with you so bad please doll please let me cum”

his whines are sent from the angels, you sometimes question what good deed youve done to deserve this man

“m’cumming! fuck- haa, so..”

his words make no sense, but hes just trying his best to be good for you. this poor boy just wants to be coddled after killing countless people

my obsession with him is horrible i wrote this in like 5 minutes

[rinsthighsweat]

heya!! your fanfics are so good, just hell. if you don't mind, you could write headcanons for absolutely any characters you want, about them having an s/o that is much taller/more muscular than them, and a lot more so. i just sucker for the strong/tall x even bigger and taller trope. gn reader if possible!!

Hello!!! Thank you so much for your compliment! I have decided to use the shortest characters for this one, even though I'm also thinking about doing a second part with taller characters. I hope you like it!

You're taller and stronger than them

Kurona, Kiyora, Niko, Chigiri and Isagi | masterlist

۶ৎ Kurona Ranze

Kurona is surprisingly chill about the height and strength difference. He’s not someone who’s insecure about physical traits, so he takes it in stride.

Loves to tease you by pretending to be small and helpless in your presence. “Oh no, I’m just a tiny, tiny, tiny guy! You better protect me!”

Despite the jokes, he genuinely admires your strength. Watching you lift heavy things with ease leaves him in awe.

He’s also a bit sneaky, he’ll purposely ask you to grab things from high places just to watch you do it.

On the field, he brags to his teammates about you, albeit in his quiet way. “Yeah, my partner’s amazing, amazing. Stronger than all of you combined.”

Kurona loves resting his head on your shoulder, murmuring, “I don’t need to look up at the stars when you’re already this tall.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Jin Kiyora

Jin is fascinated by your height and strength but keeps his cool, as he’s someone who thrives on confidence and composure.

He’s impressed by your physicality, often observing the way you carry yourself with quiet admiration.

Kiyora loves to incorporate your strength into playful banter. “With your build, you could probably be a striker too. Think you could keep up with me?”

While he’s not one to get insecure, he does feel a tiny pang of competitiveness, often asking you to join him in his training sessions. “Let’s see if you’re all muscles or if you’ve got the stamina to match.”

When it comes to affection, Jin has a subtle, charming way of making you feel special, often standing on his toes for dramatic effect when kissing your forehead.

He teases others who try to comment on your size, smirking as he says, “They’re not just strong... they’re out of your league in every way.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Niko Ikki

Niko initially feels a little insecure about your size and strength compared to his, but he quickly grows to appreciate it.

He’s shy about PDA, but he loves standing next to you, feeling like he’s under the protection of someone so capable.

Secretly admires how effortlessly you can do things he struggles with. He stares in awe when you lift something heavy or dominate a physical task.

Niko loves how your presence commands attention, it makes him feel proud to be with you.

He opens up about his admiration over time, mumbling, “I think you’re incredible... not just because you’re strong, but because you make me feel safe.”

When you catch him blushing after you save the day, he stammers, “I-I didn’t need help... but thanks.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Chigiri Hyoma

Chigiri initially feels a little weird about the size difference, especially since he’s used to being light and agile, but he quickly grows to appreciate it.

He secretly admires how strong and capable you are, often sneaking glances when you’re doing something physically demanding.

Loves the feeling of security your height and strength give him, especially during moments when he feels vulnerable about his injury.

Playfully challenges you to races, knowing your size gives you longer strides. He always puts in his best effort, even if he doesn’t win.

Chigiri loves small, tender gestures from you, like leaning down to meet him at eye level or helping him reach something high. “Guess you’ve got the whole ‘tall, strong protector’ thing down, huh?”

During a quiet moment, he rests his head against you and softly says, “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Isagi Yoichi

Isagi is initially surprised by the dynamic, but he’s quick to adapt. He’s not the type to let something like height or strength make him feel insecure.

He admires your build, seeing it as a reflection of your dedication and effort, which inspires him to work even harder.

Occasionally jokes about being the “shorter one,” but it’s always lighthearted. “Don’t crush me when we hug, okay?”

Isagi loves how your strength translates into practical help, like carrying heavy groceries or shielding him from rowdy crowds.

He gets flustered but secretly loves when you lift him up playfully or show off your strength around him. “Hey, stop making me look weak! … Okay, maybe do it again.”

On a quiet night, he holds your hand and smiles, saying, “You’re strong in every way. I’m lucky to have someone like you by my side.”

© 2025 rinsthighsweat — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[fuji09]

I'm just now seeing this and I debated whether or not to say anything more about what I said in my post that this person is talking about. They said this like a month ago, but my words are being used as a way to prove that any negative thoughts towards a character who is a person of color is automatically racist, and that is really hurtful considering as a Hispanic person, I know how it feels to have people be racist towards me or see people actively be racist about characters who are people of color.

When I said that I know that Derek tied Deaton up and punched him, that wasn't me saying that it's ok and we should ignore what Derek did wrong in this situation. I'll talk about anything that any of the characters have done wrong. But my post was about Deaton and things he has done and said. I can absolutely make a separate post about things Derek did wrong, I know he fucked up a lot. I also understand why he did the things he did, fear is a very powerful emotion and motivator. Fear can override our rational thinking to protect ourselves, even when those actions aren't the correct actions to take.

As someone with ADHD who can go down every rabbit hole in existence for hours on end, if I don't stick with the topic at hand, which in my post the topic was Deaton, then I can end up completely off topic and lose what I was originally trying to express. I do my best to stick with one character at a time, at most two, in a post so I can stay on track. If that comes across as me not caring about the shit other characters did, that's not on me. That's others making assumptions about me due to things I didn't say and that's just ridiculous.

I don't hate Deaton. I don't think Deaton is evil. I don't have personal headcanons trying to make him evil. What I do have is the need to write out my thoughts about characters and see what others think as well to see if I'm possible taking something differently than intended or if I hit the mark or even if there's more than one way to interpret something.

I'm not going to gloss over the bad or mean things a character does because they aren't white. That does nothing to help actual racism within fandom. I will call out shit no matter what someone's skin color is.

I'm quite aware that Teen Wolf is about Scott. I know he's the main character and have no issue with that. I'm happy I get representation in a main character. I'm not trying to ignore that so there isn't that fueling any of my thoughts. I'm not creating headcanons to demonize Deaton. What I am doing is seeing the things Deaton says and does and judging based on that.

To me, Deaton did do Derek a little dirty. That's my personally feelings. Whether he actually did or not, it's how I felt. Honestly I feel like every character did someone dirty at least once. Because that's how people are, we all do someone dirty in our lifetime. We all fuck up. I also don't think it's fair to instantly jump to someone is being racist because of something they felt about a character.

I never said there was something wrong with Deaton helping Scott and mentoring him. It's good he did! I just felt that with Derek, instead of putting him down, he could have offered advice. Or even do both! Tell him something he is doing wrong and offer a better way at doing it. I would want anyone to do that because I feel kindness is the better way to go. Which is why I do my best to be kind, even when I'm being talked down to and insulted.

I understand Deaton is Scott's mentor. I understand he will have a lot of focus on Scott. But I guess because if I was Deaton, I would help them all as much as I had the ability to, because I understand the trauma they have all been through.

Trauma doesn't care if you're an adult, trauma doesn't care if you're a millionaire. Trauma rewires the brain. And Derek has had a lot of trauma in his life to the point where he is not a functioning adult. For 2 seasons Derek doesn't get an actual place to live, he squats in the burned up ruins of his old home and the ruins of an abandoned train station. The guy has no idea how to adult, and as someone who had to endure trauma hindering mental growth and not knowing how to function as an adult, I feel empathetic towards Derek. I understood the fear and the anger. I understood the hurt and confusion. Having to play catch up due to trauma after trauma is hard and its frustrating.

So yes, I will have a little more empathy towards characters I can relate to, but I still have empathy for other characters as well.

Just because I didn't bring up the sheriff, doesn't mean I feel he did everything right about the Hale fire. Hell, I don't even know if Stilinski was even the sheriff when the fire happened. But if he was, then yes, he did Derek dirty by not solving it and seeing that the fire was arson and catching everyone that helped cover it up. If he wasn't the sheriff yet, then whoever was at the time, did Derek dirty.

But my post wasn't about the sheriff so I had no reason to talk about that. I can definitely talk about that on a separate post if anyone wants, but like I said above, I like to keep my posts about who I'm talking about and not add in others who have nothing to do with my post so I can keep my posts on the right track, because if I don't, I'll never get to the point I'm trying to make.

I never saw Deaton as Derek's enemy. I understand Stiles is a supporting character. I understand that for a while, Derek had the role of antagonist. I understand that Scott is the main character.

Deaton is cryptic and is called cryptic by other characters. I find characters who are cryptic generally annoying because I have a hard enough time understanding people when they aren't cryptic. Being neurodivergent makes it harder to understand things unless bluntly stated. So yeah, I'm probably going to interpret some things wrong, but that doesn't mean it has anything to do with the fact that he's black.

I put my thoughts out there to have civil discussions. To see what someone's else's pov is. If something went unnoticed. If I possibly misunderstood something. But when I do, I instantly get met with condescension, accusations of racism, and having my words twisted.

If I get something wrong, by all means please tell something is wrong and why. But don't treat me like I'm stupid. When I post my thoughts, I want conversation, not attacks. I want to figure out if how I saw things was correct or if it's more ambiguous. And there are a lot of things in this show that's ambiguous.

I haven't been in the fandom since the beginning. I've been in the fandom for a year. For me, everything has been new. So lumping me in with people who were here from the start isn't fair. I'm not them.

I get being tired of racism in fandom, trust me I get it, but jumping to the conclusion that anyone feeling anything negative towards a character who is a person of color is automatically racist is damaging. Especially when people go straight to the accusations of racism and are condescending right off the bat instead of remembering the fact that some people are new to the fandom.

My favorite part of that post is, “and yes I know Derek had tied him up and punched him.”

Like, they’re really saying ‘let’s just agree to completely disregard the fact that Deaton’s sole interaction with Derek as far as we know is being beaten up and kidnapped and instead talk about how mean Deaton is to him!’

Also, folks hating characters because of their own awful headcanons about them instead of their actual canon characterization should be laughable at this point, but mostly it’s just sad.

There is one inescapable and, to certain parts of fandom, unreconcilable fact that lies at the bottom of all of this turmoil: Teen Wolf was the story of Scott McCall. There was no episode, no plotline, no detail in 100 episodes and a movie that did not impact Scott or influence his development as the lead protagonist. From how Derek's and Peter's trip to Mexico to recover Talia's claws led directly to Derek giving Scott the "Protector of Beacon Hills" title to how Claudia Stilinski's illness and death planted the seeds of the conflict in Season 5A between Scott and Stiles, he's always at the center of everything.

It is the fundamental rejection of this idea that leads parts of the 'fandom' to create hate-fueled headcanons in order to negate it. This is quite clearly exemplified in the racist demonization of Alan Deaton. All these clearly nonsensical interpretations, from "sinister tree wizard" to "cryptic demon worshipper" to "Peter's archenemy" to "Deaton did Derek dirty," all come from the idea that it is the Hales (which somehow includes Stiles and/or any other white male character to which fandom has grown attached) who should have the rightful claim to the focus and attention of the show and the characters therein.

From a Doylist perspective, if you take my premise above as true then, of course, Deaton would spend the majority of his time and focus on Scott. Deaton served as Scott's mentor, and as narratives usually do, they used a character in that role to highlight the protagonist's struggles and strengths and to reveal the protagonist's background. For example, when the writers wanted to highlight Scott's ethics they show this through the way Deaton treats him. In Season 1, he is a 16-year-old with the keys to the animal clinic who works unsupervised. Deaton scoffs at Scott's apologies for being "all of two minutes late" and praises him for being one of the "least slacking kids in town." In Season 2, Deaton's treatment of Scott shows his faith in him when other people in his life (Stiles, his mother, Allison) doubt him. Through later seasons, Deaton treats Scott less and less like a high-school student and more and more like a partner in his clinic, highlighting Scott's maturation.

That's Deaton's role in the story; he wasn't there to help a supporting foil like Derek resolve difficulties caused by an event six years before the start of the show. When he's negative toward Derek, it serves the purpose of defending Scott.

From a Watsonian perspective, it still makes sense for Deaton to pay most of his attention to Scott. Scott works hard for Deaton, and Deaton knows he's a child from an economically-distressed broken home. Deaton also understands that Scott's been introduced to the world of the supernatural violently and against his will and that he's been placed where he has to lead more children in life-and-death situations. Since Deaton suspects Scott has the chance to become a True Alpha, Scott will need all the guidance Deaton can give him. Derek, on the other hand, was an adult millionaire who has been a werewolf all his life and whom Deaton hasn't seen for six years. Furthermore, Derek broke into his clinic, assaulted him, and kidnapped him, as well repeatedly beating Scott, who we have to stress once again is a child, once to the point of Deaton having to give him medical attention. And yet, Deaton still provided advice, knowledge, and druidic assistance to Derek, once even to risking a permanent catatonic state to aid him. But that's not enough for some people.

In any setting, it would not have been an outrageous development for Deaton to scrap his promise to Derek's mother and become Derek's enemy in order to protect teenagers like Scott, Jackson, Isaac, Erica and Boyd from Derek's predatory behavior. Oh, let me correct that: it would not have been an outrageous development if Deaton had been played by Linden Ashby.

This is why I brought up the Sheriff when trying to defend Deaton from the accusation that he "did Derek dirty." Nowhere on the screen are Emissaries described as having an obligation to the packs; they were advisors, as Peter, Derek, and even Gerard all admitted. This is why I take issue with the concept that "Deaton was the Hale Pack Emissary, so he owed Derek his focus and uncritical support." One of the people with an obligation to protect and serve Derek was Sheriff Noah Stilinski, and yet I have never once seen any part of the fandom criticize the sheriff for treating poor orphan Derek as a murder suspect, for not solving the Hale Fire, or for being hostile to Peter. It very, very seldom happens in fanfiction that the Sheriff is revealed to be in cahoots with the Argents or revealed to be secretly influencing Scott to take command away from the Hale's for Stiles own good. On the other hand, I am pretty sure I would have seen all these takes and more if the Sheriff had been played by Seth Gilliam.

Thus, the twisted calculus that leads to headcanons such as "Deaton let the Hale Fire happen to serve the Balance" or ubiquitous fanfiction tropes like "Deaton suppresses Stiles's natural magical abilities," springs from a fundamental, and fundamentally racist, rejection of what even the lowest amount of media literacy would take as self evident: Scott McCall was the lead protagonist. Deaton is called shady, untrustworthy and cryptic even today because his advice and actions didn't conform to an interpretation of the show that was never going to happen. The Hales were antagonist or allies; Stiles --- as popular as he was and as much focus as he got -- was a supporting character. For this entitle fandom, someone has to answer for that, and a black man is as good a target as any.