#cavalier? adorable

[yusuke-of-valla]

I'm playing Three Houses again. I forgot how BAD some of the characters outfit colors are. Dedue and Caspar have all-brown clothes (even the armor????) Lysithea's colors look really bad, makes me wish her CYL gremory dress was canon. Leonie, Lorenz and Ingrid's mounts don't match the color of their clothes, it's just looks off

Yeah the default outfit colors if you’re not in the proper class tend to suck. Gremory Flayn bugs me the most personally, just give her a black version of the dress she already doesn’t get a timeskip outift

This is why I usually just have cutscene outfits stay on but that’s not possible if you make someone mounted and also can we TALK about how weird Ingrid’s thing is like she’s clearly geared to being a Pegasus knight but in both this and Three Hopes you gotta stick her in Paladin in the middle

Anyway point being: the generic uniforms in Three Houses are fucking dripless and it is tragic

[happyheidi]

𝖾.𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.2k / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, berry being the perfect girl she is. inspired by these bubble messages and @cosmic-railwayxo's treachery. (love u deni)

𝟬𝟲:𝟯𝟲 — “Where’s my baby, hm?”

This is the question on Chan’s lips the moment he lets go of the bedroom door, closed with agonizing caution as to not wake the figure still curled up under the duvet inside.

It’s early. Early enough so the walls are colored a rich beige by new rays of sunlight, so his footsteps are the only sound reverberating around the hallways when he commences his search. Early enough to evidence how he was only bestowed a few hours of sleep before waking up with a budding headache and leaden eyelids.

But he doesn’t mind the lack of rest, not this time. Not when there’s a wad of love with a freckled snout and floppy ears under the same roof for the first time in too long.

“Berry?” Chan calls, his voice tattered and low, like sandpaper. He rakes his eyes over the spots he remembers to be her favorite. Maybe they’ve changed since he was last home. Maybe everything has changed since he was last home.

The thought causes a familiar pang to go off within him, poignant and powerful, but the quiet scuffle of paws against hardwood takes the edge off the guilt straightaway.

Chan finds the beginnings of a smile on his lips before she even rounds the corner, and when she does, well. His grin might as well split his face down the middle. He’s on his knees in seconds, outstretched hands rediscovering home in the puppy’s silky fur as she clambers onto him with blown pupils and excited pants.

His adoring coos of her name falter into muted laughter, which then fragments into a sob. His vision narrows to his precious girl and then starts to blur. When Berry climbs up to give his cheek a few happy licks, she’s fascinated by its saltiness.

You emerge from the bedroom a little over an hour later. Sleeping is hard enough when you’re jetlagged, and even harder when there’s only mattress where you remember Chan’s warm solidity to be. The fabric of Chan’s hoodie suppresses your vocalization of his name as you ungracefully pull it over your torso, still struggling to rouse your body from sleep.

Your beckon produces no response. You wrap a hand around the nearest door frame and peek your head into the living room, a little more alert now.

“Chan? Baby?”

You feel silly. How many visits has it been for you to still feel this nervous, wandering around Chan’s family home? Yet you undoubtedly are, whether because of your absentee boyfriend or that his whole family is a few walls away. You pad through the silent abode with mounting trepidation and intense care to not make any more sound than necessary.

Then you reach the family room and instantly come to a standstill, hands drifting to your sides, features deliquescing to a soft smile. 

Lying on the nearest couch is your boyfriend, head propped up on top of his elbow, his fluttering lashes and gently oscillating shoulders indicating that he’s asleep. You can’t see his face below his eyes, as he has his nose nuzzled into the Cavalier spaniel resting securely in his arms, snoring tacitly into his sleeve, slumbering as deeply as her human companion.

You’ve been stumbling upon Chan sleeping in unexpected places for the better part of two years now, but you still liquefy every time as if it’s the first. These are the moments, you’ve come to realize, when you can care for him in ways he would never let you while conscious: a lift of his laptop off his thighs, a brush of your lips against his hairline, a cardigan draped lightly over his back. These are the moments when you understand in full how far you’ve come together, for him to trust you with his exhaustion with such transparency, to be so vulnerable as to leave you with memories of him that he’ll never have.

Despite your prolonged experience, it’s hard to describe what exactly you’re feeling in this moment. The mere mention of Berry has always dissipated the shadows that veil his face, has always chased off the burdens that cling to his spine. How do you put it into words, seeing your happiness at his happiest?

It suddenly occurs to you that the window beside them is cracked open. That, and you spotted extra quilts in the top shelf of Chan’s closet last night.

Chan’s eyelids lift when he feels the gentle weight of a blanket fall upon his body; so do the corners of his lips, when the culprit materializes before him. Sitting on the edge of the couch, a hand hovering over his frame, face creased into a flinch.

“Sorry,” you whisper, closing the distance between your fingers and the curve of his neck. The pad of your thumb moves over his cheekbone like a willow branch skimming water. “I didn’t think that would wake you up.”

Both of you up, you mentally amend, seeing as Berry has noticed your presence and is wagging her tail with enough vigor for it to thump against Chan’s chest. He lets her wriggle out of his arms and into yours; you emit a noise of glee and gather her into you.

If only you had seen the expression he wears then, watching your eyes scrunch closed at the frenzied kisses she presses to your face. His first love and his very last.

“Don’t apologize,” he answers. “I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you in bed, I just…”

His voice trails off, but he knows by the softness in your irises when they meet his that you already know.

You move like clockwork. Chan presses up into the back of the couch, the quilt’s edge lifted in wordless invitation. It is your chest that Berry burrows into this time, the top of her head sliding into the space between your chin and the sofa’s cushion. It is Chan’s chest that you’re folded into, the arms around your waist like the coziest of cabins in a sun-spattered wood. It is the back of your neck that he nuzzles his nose into, but not before he litters gossamer kisses across the expanse of skin, as if printing the notes to a lullaby he knows well.

Everything is warm, so warm, so right, and jetlag starts to feel like a distant trouble.

You open your mouth while teetering on the cusp of a dream.

“Baby?” 

He hums into you, listening.

“Always be happy, okay?”

You don’t notice the solitary tear that traverses the bridge of his nose, lands in the cotton of your hood, and dyes the bunched-up fabric a few shades darker. You don’t notice how his embrace around you tightens marginally, like how one’s eyes can’t help but find their dearest possession when the building’s on fire.

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your nape once more. Your and Chan’s eyes close together. Berry licks your chin again, then follows suit.

(Another hour later, Chan’s parents walk into the family room. They decide to go out to breakfast for fear of making too much noise in the kitchen, Chan’s mother blotting away tears as she ducks into shotgun, Chan’s father laughing at her sentimentality while blinking back his own.

Another few hours later, Hannah takes maybe fifty-some photographs of the triad of unmoving heaps occupying their couch. Then she grumbles at Berry for being dead asleep at eleven in the morning: “Those two arrived here from across the world yesterday. What’s your excuse?”)

�� (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support.

[procrastinationaccount]

Top 10 griddlehark scenes that could have resulted in kisses, ranked by how hot it would have been if it had happened

Disclaimer: I am in no way shape or form saying that this would have made the scenes better, merely mashing them together like dolls.

10. When the gang are headed to "Dulcinea"'s sickroom on Harrow's suggestion and Gideon says she could have kissed her. Girl do it!

9. Post-avulsion, once they're back in their room - preferably, right after "Don't price your life so cheaply, Griddle." Harrow is so fucking scared and so fucking in love, and while it is adorable that she turned to anger at the trials putting them in this position she also could have put that energy into a certain cavalier! Held back by just how pained and out-of-it Gideon was. You know in the morning she would be aggressively telling herself it was a dream.

8. Speaking of things Gideon told herself were dreams, that one time Harrow woke her up from a nightmare! Underrated scene imo. She's looking at you so so softly and understandingly despite the cynicism.

7. During the battle with Cyth, after Harrow saves her flying through the air and they're both slumped on a pile of bones. Gideon just nearly died because she was too busy admiring her perpetual bone, she's so proud of her it makes everything ache, and Harrow's openly performing for her now. No time for talking or thinking, pure adrenaline, just make your move before she passes out!

6. After passing the Winnowing challenge. They are both probably the most exhilarated and turned-on they've ever been. Harrow entered her body and it was a positive interaction. It might have fully struck at least one of them dead if it had happened.

5. During the stair fight, contingent on Harrow finishing the "how dare you mock my-" sentence. Gideon called her out on jealousy, which is major fucking progress for them as far as identifying feelings. They're drained and pissed off, and it's really setting in for Harrow how willing Gideon would be to give herself away to her. Show her that you care!

4. Pre-avulsion. See lovely role-swapped example by @sinshiney here!

3. Right after Gideon tucked away that shadow-colored lock of hair. We know it, we love it, Harrow I understand but at the same time please don't talk about the Body right now. You have no idea what this will do to the next year and a half+ of your relationship.

2. First Flower Of My House. Her trembling hand is on your cheek. A beautiful little smile is on her face. She just made the most beautiful declaration of love you've ever heard in your life. You're planning on dying anyway and have nothing left to lose. Shalalalalala-my-oh-my...

Honorable mentions:

After the discovery of Dulcie's ashes, once Gideon runs to confirm that Harrow wasn't the victim in a panic. It always kills me that she calls what she would've said the other day about finding Harrow dead a "youthful" dream, but at least you're done pretending now. Wake her up and give her an update!

The hug scene. Omitted because it's perfect the way it is.

The post-pool lean-in. Omitted because Gideon's mind was already made up when she started it. Meanest thing she's ever done.

While Gideon was backed up against that pillar, right after Harrow says, "And at the end of the night, the locked tomb is me." Would it have made any sense with the trajectory of their characters? No. Would it have been hot? It would have been hot as fuck, thank you for asking.

[discopaddock]

WALKS - MAX VERSTAPPEN

PAIRING: max verstappen x fem!reader

SUMMARY: max has always been a cat dad. what happens when one of his cats leave him and a cute neighbour with an adorable dog finds it?

GENRE: fluff and nothing more

WORD COUNT: +/- 1.5k

WARNINGS: none

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hii! wrote this and then i go write all requests i promise, byeee

Life was good.

It really was since Y/N moved to her new apartment in Monaco. It was big, spacious and bright – everything a girl needed in life.

Well maybe not everything because she still didn't have that dog she dreamed of since childhood. Well she didn't until she did.

The young judge a month after moving in decided to go to France and adopt a dog.

That one little cavalier spaniel cost more than the rent for two months but did she really care? No, she didn't.

The little puppy was so beautiful and funny that Y/N couldn't regret taking her in. Hazelnut was one pretty dog who loved walks and her owner.

One day Hazelnut was sleeping in the sunlight at the balcony, while her owner was at work. Then someone jumped on the floor next to her, so she immediately woke up and saw a bengal cat. The puppy started to bark at the stranger who started hissing at the puppy as an answer.

And they would do that for the next few hours until Y/N showed up in her flat.

“Hazelnut! Where are you?” the girl yelled through the apartment, while she was taking off her heels. She quickly put them in the locker and walked to the balcony where she knew her little doggie was. “And who are you, little one?” she asked as she saw the cat, which was currently sitting on the window sill. Hazelnut was still angry at the cat and didn't stop barking until Y/N started to scratch her behind her left ear. “Don’t be so rude Hazelnut, you know you're my one and only” the girl told her dog and looked at the cat again.

It looked like it didn't care at all that it wasn't with their owner and it seemed to enjoy the fact that it was in someone's else's apartment.

“Come on, Hazelnut, I need to eat first, then I start to think what to do with our guest” the girl told the dog and took her to the kitchen.

Y/N opened the fridge and sighed only. She forgot to do the groceries, again. Work was taking her whole time and some days she even forgot to walk Hazelnut before going to sleep.

“Okay, we have to find the owner first” she sighed and walked to get the cat from the balcony. It easily found comfort in her arms and purred, while she was carrying it.

All Y/N knew was that anybody on her floor didn't have a cat, so it had to live on some upper floor. Thankfully there were only two upper floors and at one was only one penthouse.

She quickly knocked on someone's door. A woman opened it and only smiled when she saw the cat.

“Hello, is this your cat?” Y/N asked with a warm smile, thinking that she already found the owner with the first try.

“No, he's not” the woman laughed only. “His owner lives in the penthouse upstairs,” she added. “He was asking for him, so quickly go upstairs because Max's probably shaking right now” she laughed again and the girl only nodded.

“Thank you, have a nice day” she said and the woman wished her the same. The girl quickly grabbed Hazelnut’s lead and stepped on the stairs.

Y/N finally stepped in front of a wooden door that looked extremely expensive (her door didn't look so) and pressed the doorbell button. She waited for like half a minute when the door opened.

“Hello, I’ve heard that this is your cat,” the girl smiled a bit, when she saw a devilishly handsome guy, around her age with blonde hair, moustache and huge blue eyes. He only sighed with relief when he saw his cat in her arms and smiled back at her.

“Yes, hi, it's mine” the guy said and carefully took the cat from Y/N's arms and put it on the floor next. “I’m really sorry, Sassy doesn't usually run away like that, it's Jimmy's job tho. But also thank you very much, that cat is really dear to me” he laughed a bit and then Hazelnut started to jump on his legs and sniff him. “I’m Max by the way” he giggled and squatted to play with the puppy. “And you?”

“I’m Y/N,” she answered, smiling. Her little dog was wagging her tail and smiling. Hazelnut was smiling and it wasn't caused by Y/N.

“Such a beautiful dog,” Max said, while petting Hazelnut. “Do you want to come in? I can assure you that I have a lot of space inside” he asked and looked at her face but she just couldn't say yes. She was starving at that moment.

“It’s really nice of you but I have to do grocery shopping and go on a walk with Hazelnut” the girl answered, her expression sad.

Max was such a good looking man, she wanted to know him better.

“Oh, no, it's okay,” he said with a warm smile. She was such a pretty girl, he wanted to know her better. “Maybe I can go on that walk with you? We can grab some coffee after. I really want to thank you for finding Sassy” he said.

Y/N felt something moving in her stomach. How could she say no to him? Him an absolute Greek god.

“Okay” she said. “I’ll be here when I'm ready, okay?” she asked and he only nodded and patted the doggie's head for the last time. “Bye Max!”

“Bye! See you later!”

Y/N quickly left Hazelnut in her apartment and grabbed her car keys. She quickly drove to the supermarket and bought everything she needed. This shopping was huge.

When she was standing in the elevator she was with a woman who was going on the highest floor, so to Max’s penthouse. Something shifted in Y/N. What if this was his girlfriend? Or wife? What if he was married and she just liked a married man just because he was good with her dog?

She went to her flat quickly and took some deep breaths while putting everything in its place. She almost broke the jar of tomato sauce but fortunately it didn't happen and she still had her dinner.

Then she quickly made herself pasta and tea and watched some news on TV in Italian to practice some language. She spoke French fluently but unfortunately didn't do the same with Italian and it was kinda difficult in her work as a judge because she couldn't understand everything.

When she was done, she brushed her teeth and took Hazelnut to Max's penthouse, praying he remembered about the walk. She pushed the doorbell again and waited. Waited for like two minutes until a small girl, probably five years old, opened the door. Then Max showed up and took the girl in his arms.

“Hi!” he said only with a smile. The little girl only waved at Y/N, also smiling.

“Hey” she replied, while Hazelnut ran at the man and started jumping at him.

“Can you give me one second? I just need to put on shoes” Max said and she only nodded. “Go to mum, uncle will be back soon” he told the little girl, who only hugged him and ran to her mother.

Max quickly grabbed his phone and keys and left the penthouse.

“Sorry, my friends visited” he said only, smiling at her.

“You can go back to them! They're your guests!” the girl said and Max only giggled.

“No! It's okay, they showed up without information before and I knew about this walk with you and this lady before, so they understand” he assured her as they were in the lift. “So what are you doing for a living? Because I don't think that you're Monégasque” he asked, giggling.

“I’m a judge, I work in court” she answered. “And yeah, I'm not from Monaco. I've been living here for three months now” she added. “And you?”

“I drive in Formula 1” he said and tried not to laugh at her reaction.

“I know that, I just didn't want to be some crazy fan. Do you know how hard that is?” she laughed and he only shook his head. She was such an adorable girl.

The walk went smoothly. And then the first date. And the next date.

“I’ll be watching you on Sunday” Y/N announced, watching Max as he was packing his clothes to the suitcase.

“You should really take some sleep. You don't need to watch every race” he said, looking at her, while zipping the suitcase. “Go to sleep on Sunday” he said, standing in front of her, his face extremely close to her.

“Make me” she answered, so he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her. “Okay, I'll go to sleep on Sunday” she said and he only laughed, hugging her in his arms.

masterlist

[idiopath-fic-smile]

this one goes out to all my Singin' in the Rain ot3 truthers—

Cosmo Brown had always known it would end like this.

Cosmo was a lot of things—in fact, you could argue he was too many—but he wasn’t dumb.

From the early years, when Cosmo and Don were just kids playing for pennies in pool halls, to their stint dodging rotten vegetables on Vaudeville stages across the very backwaters of America’s backwaters, to their first real breath of success in Hollywood (and then the second and the third and the fourth), Cosmo would catch a glimpse of his handsome, charismatic friend from the corner of his eye—a flash of dark hair, that perfect tooth powder ad smile—and know that for all Don’s protestations, someday the guy was gonna meet a wonderful girl and get married, settle down, and very gently slip off to the far edge of Cosmo’s life.

So yes, Cosmo had seen Kathy Selden coming. Not the details, not her sense of humor or her musical little laugh or the madcap way she really threw herself into dancing with them around Don’s place at 1:30 in the morning—and okay, certainly not the part at the beginning where she had jumped out of a cake at a party, but he thought a fella could be excused for not correctly divining that. 

The general outline of the thing, though, how Don’s eyes followed her around a room...he had been preparing for Don to propose to Kathy ever since she’d tried to throw a pie at Don’s face. And when the happy day came, Cosmo had been ready with his best man suit, his best man speech, a slightly updated version of “Here Comes the Bride” that’d had Don and Kathy laughing all the way down the aisle.

Don and Kathy would buy a house together. They would have a swimming pool and a dog and then inevitably, a small parade of adorable little snot-nosed kids who would call him Uncle Cosmo, and they would spend less and less time with him, not on purpose but busy with the rest of their lives, and ultimately Cosmo would learn to make his peace with it because he’d have no other choice and he would have to try to move on and not live too much in his memories. He could picture it so clearly, he figured if the songwriting gig with Monumental didn’t pan out, he could always return to the backwater circuit with a new act: The Amazing Cosmo of the Cosmos—ladies and gentlemen, he sees the future, he reads the stars, he silently pines for his best married pal and all the while tap dancing!

Don and Kathy inviting him along on their honeymoon, though—that part was a surprise.

“What?” said Cosmo, hands frozen over the piano keys. He’d been busy with a brand-new assignment; on the heels of The Dancing Cavalier, offers were pouring in and he’d taken the first one scoring a movie that didn’t star anyone he was secretly in love with.

Don had looked a little wounded when Cosmo broke the news last week, but a guy had to start making his own way in the world. Besides, orchestrating layers of strings to swell as the camera zoomed in on Don and Kathy blissfully locking lips in radiant monochrome, oblivious to the rest of the world—well, Cosmo knew that dance, he had mastered the footwork, and he didn’t especially feel like a reprise.

It wasn’t lost on him that Kathy had dropped by his rehearsal space alone today. Of course, he had no idea what this meant—he didn’t think it was about the new job; Don didn’t tend to stay sore at him for that long—but Kathy was acting perfectly natural, and so probably the smart thing was to follow her lead.

“It’s a two-week transatlantic cruise,” she said now, gracefully dropping beside him on the piano bench. “We thought it would be nice to see Europe, take in the sights, get away from all the cameras.”

“Ah yes, such a wallflower, our dear Don,” said Cosmo solemnly. “Besieged on all sides by the love of his public, a tragedy of our times, up there with Lear! Hamlet! Caesar! The one with all the Greeks and the giant wooden horse, nay, nay, neigh.” He played a tragic little trill, for effect. Kathy huffed a laugh and smacked his arm.

“You know that’s not it,” she said. “Being watched all the time—we can’t always do what we want. It’s rotten.”

Tell me about it, thought Cosmo.

He was sort of seeing a fight choreographer named Archibald, who came from old money and was a “the third” or a “the fifth” but nice enough Cosmo might even forgive him for that. Archibald was trim and athletic, with dark brown hair that was just starting to go gray at the temples and enough discretion that Cosmo didn’t think they’d get caught. The only problem was that he didn’t laugh at Cosmo’s jokes, seemed to just tolerate them.

“What do you two even talk about, then?” Don had asked, when Cosmo had let this slip over drinks the same night he’d explained about the new movie project. (Cosmo had been trying to spend less time with Don and Kathy since the wedding but Don had said, “C’mon, pal, we miss you” and Kathy had laid one hand on his arm and peered up at him with her big green eyes and Cosmo was only one man.)

Cosmo had frowned, because Don hated Archibald, for reasons that were frankly mysterious. Then he’d looked up and grinned a grin he didn’t exactly feel and said,

“Tell you when you’re older,” and then Don had choked on his dry Martini even though Cosmo knew Don knew about Cosmo’s tendencies. It wasn’t something they discussed, and Cosmo had never properly gone with a guy before, but whenever a big-shot producer started complaining about all the degenerate queers in showbiz, Don always sharply steered the conversation someplace else. It was all very gallant and noble and knightly, and someday Don would play King Arthur and Kathy his lady Guinevere—

“Honestly, sometimes it feels as if we’re living in a fishbowl,” said Kathy now, in the present.

“And so your solution is to relocate,” said Cosmo, “to the biggest fishbowl on this here magnificent earth. The mighty ocean!” He struck up a sea shanty. “Oh blow the man down, blow the man down / way ay, blow the man down…”

Not everyone appreciated his musical flights of fancy, but when Cosmo turned, she was leaning with her elbow on the side arm of the piano, watching him with her chin on her hand and laughing. 

“Just for two weeks,” she said. “So, are you coming?”

“With you two,” said Cosmo, just so there could be no misunderstandings. “On your one and only honeymoon.”

“Yes,” said Kathy.

“As what, your first mate?”

“Sure.” She grinned and threw him a quick salute. Cosmo was almost never attracted to women but in this case, he understood the appeal.

He swallowed. “You are aware of that ancient saying, ‘Two’s company and three’s a fast track to divorce court’?”

“You’re hardly a threat to our marriage, Cosmo,” she said, and he agreed, of course, in both directions, even, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. For want of anything better to do, he gasped, clutched a hand to his chest and reeled backwards so hard, he threw himself off the piano bench, landing in a somersault on the floor.

Kathy spun around fluidly on the bench to face him, pleated skirt whirling a little, heels of her shoes clicking together. 

“Oh, I said that badly,” she said. “I only mean that it’s more fun when you’re around. We have a better time, Don and me both. Remember the night we decided to make Dueling Cavalier a musical?”

“Do I remember the best night of my life?” Cosmo peered up at her from the hardwood. “Why yes, madam, now that you mention it, I believe it might ring a bell or two.”

“The best—” She frowned for a moment, and he remembered then that as a newly married woman, a newly married woman to Don Lockwood, no less, she’d no doubt experienced any number of evenings that blew that one out of the water.

Even besides that, it felt awfully revealing all of a sudden. Cosmo threw an arm over his eyes. He felt naked. He wished he was naked, because that might at least distract from whatever his face was doing.

“So it beats your time with Archibald, then?” said Kathy shrewdly.

Cosmo uncovered his eyes. He forgot, sometimes, that new as Kathy was to the moving pictures business, she was still a city girl, with a city girl’s worldliness. Also, Don had probably told her; that seemed like the kind of second-hand secrets married people shared with each other. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hardly a topic for mixed company,” he said.

There was a pause.

“So yes,” she said and smiled with a smugness that would’ve been unbecoming were she not as cute as a button.

“What do you and Don have against the poor man anyway?” he groused. “He’s never done so much as sneezed in your direction, and if he did, I’m sure he’d use a handkerchief.”

“For one thing, we know you could do better,” said Kathy, folding her arms.

Cosmo elbowed his way back to sitting, brushing himself off with dignity. “Well, better’s not exactly knocking on my door right now.”

“This town doesn’t have an ounce of sense.” She reached down to offer him a hand up, pulling Cosmo to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. “Listen, two weeks away, it’ll be good for you.”

“What about you two?” Cosmo protested as he reclaimed his spot on the bench, Kathy sliding to make room.

“What about us?” said Kathy with wide eyes.

“Two newlyweds might want some alone time?” he offered weakly.

Kathy shrugged. “I told you, there won’t be reporters or cameras. It’ll be plenty private.”

“What about your matrimonial needs?”

“Which needs?”

His eyes narrowed; she was a terrific actress but suddenly he wasn’t sure he was buying it. Kathy wasn’t dumb either.

“You have to know what I mean. Don’t make me play Cole Porter at you,” said Cosmo. She hesitated, and Cosmo began to pluck out a melody: “Birds do it, bees do it / even educated fleas do it…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s do it,” sang Kathy, finishing the stanza in her lovely alto, “let’s fall in love.”

Cosmo stopped playing.

“I do know,” she said simply, “of course I do, and we’re not worried about it, alright? Listen, do you want to go?”

Cosmo, who had been carefully not asking himself that question, stared down at the piano keys. Did he want to go? He thought back to that night at Don’s, the three of them giddy with excitement and inspiration and sleep deprivation, running through the house, clowning around and dancing with no audience except each other—he hadn’t felt like a hanger-on then, like a third wheel or an extra limb or a chaperone. He’d felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, one note of a perfect chord.

Still.

“I can’t swim,” he said.

“They’ll have lifejackets,” said Kathy.

“I’ll have to work.”

“We’ll bring a piano.”

“All my houseplants will die,” said Cosmo.

“All your houseplants are fake,” she said. This was true, although he wasn’t sure how she knew since she’d never been to his house. She sighed. “Remember the night of that first screening, when you were about to expose Lina and instead of explaining what was happening, Don told me I had to sing, that I didn’t have a choice?”

He winced, thinking of Kathy’s heartbroken, tear-stained face before they’d pulled up the curtain and revealed who was really singing when Lina moved her lips.

“Yes, and I feel just awful about it.”

“Well, Don doesn’t,” said Kathy. “Because he knew it would take too long to convince me to do something that mean to her.”

“Mean?” Cosmo echoed. “She tried to trap you in a lifelong contract and steal your voice. A common sea witch wouldn’t stoop so low.”

“But there wasn’t time,” she pressed. “And anyway, he knew how it would end.”

“What’s your point?”

“We already bought your tickets,” said Kathy.

Cosmo gaped at her.

“We’ve cleared the trip with everyone at Monumental and anyway, like I said, we’ll have a piano on the boat.”

Distantly, he was aware his mouth was still hanging open. Kathy reached over with one light finger under his chin and gently closed it. 

“That’s better,” she said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. It was around this time she seemed to realize it wasn’t some routine, that Cosmo really was well and truly stunned. “Of course, nobody is going to force you to go with us if you truly don’t want to,” she said into the silence.

“These tickets,” he said at last, “are they refundable?”

“Gosh,” said Kathy easily, “I can’t imagine they are, no.”

The thing was, none of them were hurting for money or work anymore, so the fact that Don and Kathy might be out even a few hundred dollars didn’t catch at him the way it might’ve some years earlier. No, the thought that really seized his imagination was the mental image of Don and Kathy planning this together, Don and Kathy discussing the matter with each other, maybe over breakfast—toast and coffee in their dressing gowns, so sure it was the right thing to do that they’d decided to just go ahead and make preparations: oh and a ticket for Cosmo, of course.

He could do it, he realized. He could go. He wanted to go. It was foolish, but Cosmo was an entertainer; he’d been doing foolish things in front of a roomful of witnesses since he was in shortpants.

“I’ll pack tonight,” he said.

“Perfect!” Kathy hopped off the bench and straightened out her dress. “And bring something nice to wear at dinner for a night or two; it doesn’t need to be black-tie formal, a good suit will do.”

He nodded. “I shall leave the top hat and monocle at home. Two weeks, you say?”

“Yes, and another half-day on either side flying to the harbor and back.” She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “The itinerary,” she said. “Don and I are so glad you’ll be coming.”

“Uh-huh,” said Cosmo. “Say, where is that fella, anyway? What’s the big idea, can’t even stick around to ask his best pal to his own honeymoon?”

“He’s planning the trip,” said Kathy brightly. “Last-minute details. Anyway, he thought you and I should have a chat, one on one. He thought it might help.”

He blinked. “Help what?”

“Help us,” she said.

It was all starting to feel like a farce, like one of those old Vaudeville acts with a lot of fast talking.

“Did it?” he asked.

“I think so,” said Kathy warmly. She turned and began to walk towards the door. “See you at the airport tomorrow. Six AM sharp.”

“Six AM,” he said, and then, foolishly, “You know, I can see why he likes you.”

Kathy dimpled. “Oh, likewise!” She tossed him another smile and then she was heading out of sight down the hallway, shoes clacking rhythmically on the tile.

“Well,” said Cosmo to no one. He felt pole-axed, he decided. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt pole-axed in his life before, but there was no other word for it.

He played a chord, then another chord, then a few more.

“Pole-axed,” he sang, “out of whack, when you are near there’s only one drawback: I can’t be clever, no I lack the knack, Darling, I’m pole-axed, out of whack around you!”

It wasn’t exactly Cole Porter, but he’d take it, he thought, reaching for his pen. There was still an hour or two left before he’d need to race traffic home and dig out his suitcase. Apparently, he had early morning plans.

(ETA: if you didn't see, there is now a second part here!)

(ETA THE SECOND: the whole finished thing is now here!

[luvf4ngz]

Til Death Do We Part Brings Us Together

grim reaper! jason todd

Description: Your constant close calls with death first captures the attention of the Grim Reaper, then his heart, and lastly, his devotions.

Contents: Female Reader, Mentions Of Death/Dying, References to Greek Mythology, Possessiveness, You Watch Pretty Woman and Read Pride & Prejudice Together Bc Yeah, Mentions Of Isolation But It’s Okay I Promise, Jason Is Lowkey Lonely And Desperate, Reader Has A Death Wish? Maybe?, Praise Kink, SO MUCH PRAISE, Unprotected Sex, Religious Symbolisms, Sacrilege?, Nipple Play, Jason Calls You Princess, Obviously???, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, (Female Receiving), He’s So In Love, Jason Todd Is Touch Starved, Devotion, Jason Is A Munch, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Yes Greek Gods Wear Boxers, Enthusiastic Consent, “Will it fit?” I’m Sorry Okay, Size Kink, Jason Todd Has A Big Dick, Gentle Dom Jason Todd, Intimate Sex, Slow Sex, Soft Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling

Word Count: 6081

Author’s Note: Jason is loosely based off of Thanatos from Greek Mythology/Hades (the game). It was kind of hard infusing his personality with the literal personification of Death, but I hope I did a good job! Also some details are completely made up or changed for the purpose of the fics, like how dying works in Greek Mythos. Please don’t come for me, I’m just trying to be horny on the internet. Without furthermore, please enjoy :)

Actually one more thing I have a Thanatos/Death playlist and I adore it to bits, please listen if you want.

Thank you @toruslvt for beta-reading!

He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

"Yet another brush with death." You heard a husky voice beside you, making you turn your head to look at the figure sheepishly. 

Whether you’re extremely unlucky or just unfathomably reckless, he’s not sure. All he knows is that your soul has been on the edge of being his over and over again - whether it was narrowly missing a car or falling into a river or even just choking on a bone. You always seem to make it out of those situations just fine, which has thoroughly caught his attention. 

 "You should really be more careful, you know." He looked at you and sighed. 

“I am! Or at least I try to be...” You murmur timidly, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s uh, it’s nice to see you again.” You give him a small smile, turning your body to face him. 

As always, he’s in his dark cloak, the hood lifted to conceal some of his hair, casting a shadow over his face. The gold accents adorning his body glint due to the faint sunlight casting through your kitchen window, the same sunlight making his tan skin glow, making him look otherworldly - which he was. 

He raised his eyebrow, “Is it now? Most people are terrified to see me.” He muttered, smirking a bit,

“I guess I’m used to you now.” Your grin gets a bit larger, warmer. “You don’t have your scythe.” You point out.

He lets out a slight chuckle at your observation, “Such a keen eye. I figured I wouldn’t need it, and I was right. What was it this time?”

Your face heats with embarrassment at the question. “I slipped.” You confess, pointing to the puddle of water on the ground. “Almost cracked my head open, I guess. But! I turned my body in time, so I’m fine.”

“Yes, that would explain your wet clothes.” His eyes trail down your body, catching slightly where your nipples peek out against the damp fabric, before looking back up to your face.

He clears his throat, “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? It’s not even lunch time yet and you were on the brink of death. Aren’t you afraid of dying?” He scolds you.

“I mean, not really.” 

A pause of silence.

“What? You’re joking, right? How can you be so cavalier about this?”

“I don’t know, it doesn't seem so bad. It’s a natural part of life. Should I be scared?” 

“What kind of question is that?!” He raises his voice slightly, eyebrows scrunched as he looks at you. “Of course, you should be. Dying isn’t fun. You’ll be dead, trapped in the underworld for the rest of eternity. You should be trying to preserve your life while you still have it.”

“I am, though. I’m not saying I don’t like being alive, I’m just saying, when it happens, it’ll happen. There’s no use being so pre-cautious and anxious all the time.”

He lets out a huff, “You are… certainly a strange one.”

“In any case, I’d like to think my soul will go to Elysium. I'm a pretty good person, so I think the afterlife won’t be too awful for me.” You continue on, carefree.

"That isn't my point, though. Even if you're guaranteed a place in Elysium, you should still be more vigilant.”

“Why should I be? My end is already predetermined, isn’t it? Don’t the fates know when my time is up?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“Wait, then how come you visit me before I actually die?” You interrupt him, a realization suddenly taking place. “Near death experiences shouldn't summon you right?”

He hesitates a bit, caught. "You’re correct… I visit you on my own accord.”

“Why?” You tilt your head cutely, an innocent and puzzled look in your eyes.

“You’ve just caught my attention, is all.” He looks away. “I like to keep track of you, the Fates are wrong sometimes, and you basically have a death wish so I just… I like to make sure you’re okay.”

You smile slightly at his words, “You don’t want me to die?”

“Of course, I don’t. I like- I like to watch you. You’re interesting to me.” He chooses his words carefully.

“I am?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

He turns back to you and nods, his hood shifting a bit with his movement, revealing a bit more of his hair. The white streak catches your attention. 

“I have to confess it’s… cute the amount of trouble you manage to get yourself into. It’s entertaining to see what you get up to, how you treat others, what you desire out of life.” His eyes move to look into yours. “Your mentality is quite unique, as well. You see dying as natural and not something to be feared, but I think you've accepted it to an… abnormal degree." He paused. "...You're the first person in a very long time to not express fear of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid? You're only doing your job... and you're quite nice." 

He laughs, the deep rumble of his voice goes straight to your knees. "I think you're the first person to ever call the God of Death ‘nice’. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that fear me, even before their time is up. It's... exhausting, really. I can always hear their prayers, their cries, their pleads.”

"I mean I can’t blame them, I just can't share the same sentiment, especially with all the conversations that we've had."

He smiles at you, “You really are like a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to know that someone doesn’t hate me.” He pauses again, a soft look in his eyes. “But you should still be careful. You're not made of rubber after all. Don’t let me take you earlier than I should.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

“What?” In such a short time, you’ve shocked him again.

“I wouldn’t mind dying knowing that you'll be the one waiting for me.” You say it so casually, continuing to smile at him, as if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone’s ever uttered to him. His heart beats a little faster as he stares down at you, stupefied. 

“You can’t mean that.” He replies after a while. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He’s speechless, dumb-founded. How could he possibly begin to explain that the idea of anyone liking him enough to allow him to take them from this world so happily was absurd?

“What?” You ask, noticing his sudden silence. “Why’s that so strange? I like talking to you, and when I’m in the afterlife you would keep me company, right?”

He lets out a breath and smiles a bit, the whites of his teeth peeking out behind the pink of his lips. “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound appealing.”

“Good.” You smile a little wider, your eyes crinkling as it makes his heart begin to race now. 

“I-I should get going, there’s uh- souls I need to get to.” He stutters out.

“Yeah, that sounds important. I should clean up with water. I’ll see you around uh… Mister Grim Reaper, sir.”

He lets out an amused huff. “Jason. Just call me Jason.”

“Will do.” You jokingly salute him, and it makes him let out another chortle. 

“Alright, farewell then.” He nods, before blinking out of your kitchen. 

You stare at the space he used to occupy for a bit, still smiling softly, before leaving to get a mop - and maybe a change of clothes.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow as you stare at him from the couch. 

“Yes.” He replies simply, his eyes and attention focus on the movie playing on your TV.

His visits have been more and more frequent lately, ever since the conversation the both of you shared in your kitchen. Now, Death, who prefers the name Jason, shows up even if you didn’t go through another life-threatening event. 

And right in this moment, Jason is standing in front of your couch, entirely enraptured by Pretty Woman, of all things. 

“Don’t you have to do your duty? I’m sure there’s a lot of lost, wandering souls right now.” You try again, concerned. 

“What? You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that!” You put your hands up in defense. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble or something. Won’t Hades or the Fates or… whoever your superior is get angry?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But what are they going to do? Kill me?” He casts you a glance from the corner of his eyes, before going back to the movie. “Besides, souls can’t leave the mortal body without me being there. They’ll just rest for a bit, I can always come get them after.”

“I guess that’s fine then.” You sigh out. “Could you at least sit down?” 

Jason lets out a nod, before moving to the couch, taking a seat beside you but still keeping his distance. 

He watches the rest of the movie in silence beside you, enjoying your company. His eyes flick over to admire you a few times, taking in your immersed gaze and noticing the way you’re clutching a plushie so close to you (cute). When you sniffle, when a few tears trail down your face, when your parted lips form a pout at the ending, his heart pumps hard in his chest. 

This was a much better use of his time. 

“You have so many books.” Jason states, his figure crouched so that he could properly read all the titles. His hood is off, fully revealing his soft, dark hair - the white streak a beautiful contrast. 

“Who’s the observant one, now?” You chuckle from your place on the bed, eyes not leaving the novel in your hands. 

He rolls his eyes, “What are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” You hum softly, eyes still scanning the page. 

“What’s that about?” Jason asks, walking away from the bookshelf and towards you. 

“Uh, it’s a little complicated.” You murmur, “But basically it’s two people learning to get over their, well, pride and prejudices to fall in love.” 

He lets out a hum, “Read it to me?” 

“Oh my Gods, you’re so lucky, I just got to the best part.” Your eyes watch him as he lays down beside you on your bed, the fabric of his black cloak pooling around his body. 

“Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: ‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression.” 

Jason turned to his side in order to get a better view of you. He watches how your eyes practically light up as you read, a smile gracing your face. He can’t help but think how pretty you look like this. 

“She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. UGH, it’s so romantic!” You yell out, clutching the book to your chest and rolling back and forth slightly, making him let out a chuckle at your antics. “I mean at this point in the book I still hate Darcy but Gods, the way it’s written is just so good!” 

He falls silent for a bit, his gaze affectionate as he watches you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You stop your giddy reactions, looking at him curiously. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you remember when you said you wanted to be with me in the afterlife?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

He took a deep breath. "Let's say... let's just pretend for a moment, that when you die... I don't guide you to the afterlife. Instead, I take you somewhere else with me."

You sit up slightly, pushing yourself up on your arms, turning your body to face him. “Where would we go?” You set your book aside on the nightstand. 

“To… my home. I have a residence on the outskirts of Tartarus. You would be safe there, I can make sure that nothing would bother you.” He sits up fully, grabbing and holding your hands gently. “Please, I want you to stay with me. I get so lonely, and I just- I like being around you.” His tone is soft, pleading and sincere as he confesses his desires to you.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling softly in that way that he’s come to adore. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He gasps out, face mirroring yours as a bright smile overtakes his features.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’ll take some time, though.”

He shakes his head, hands gripping yours a bit tighter, “I would wait the entire rest of eternity for you, if I had to.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to not make you wait that long.” You giggle out.

“I’d hope not. I want to have you with me, I want to keep you around until the end of time itself.” 

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyones ever said to me, Jay.” Your tone is light, teasing. 

“There’s a catch though,” He pauses, hesitant to see your reactions. “You won’t be able to leave the house or see anyone else. I can’t risk you getting found. B-but I get you anything you need, I can make you happy.”

“That sounds just fine to me.” 

His eyes glisten in happiness, a bright shine in them. “Then... it's settled. I will take you to my home, and you will stay with me… forever.” His glances down to your lips for a second, before quickly looking back into your eyes. 

You notice the movement, heart beating a bit faster.

“Could I kiss you?” He whispers, his voice low and warm. 

“Yeah,” You mumble back.

He leans in closer, hands releasing yours as one places itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to his body as the other gently grips your chin. He leans down, tilting your head up until he feels the soft press of his lips to yours. Warmth floods his body as he feels electricity in the air, and he feels his heart pound behind his ribcage when your own arms wrap around his neck.

Your touch, your taste, was addicting. You were tender and sweet, and Jason never wanted this moment to end. He groans when he feels your hand begin to play with his hair, and he presses himself closer to you, both hands moving to grip your waist. 

His grip tightened on you as your kiss intensified, his body started to tremble as it filled with a desire so deep that it was all-consuming. 

Eventually you break apart from him, needing air. He dismays at having to pull away, but allows you to do so.

"If that's what's waiting for me at the end of my life, maybe I do want to die sooner…” You joke, breathless.

He groans again, “Don’t… don’t say that. Don’t tempt me, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead to yours, both of your breaths mingling together.

You giggle, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him again. He relents easily, his heart skipping when you hum softly against his lips, the desire in his body igniting higher and higher. 

Eventually, he’s the one to pull away, his breath tickling you as he trails his nose against your neck. He can feel the soft tremor in your breath as your body shivers against his. “Can we go further?” He murmurs into the skin.

“Yeah, I want more.” You nod.

“Good, I do too. I want all of you.” He begins to press his lips to your neck, lightly leaving kisses and bites that you have squirming and gasping. 

“You have me.”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You... you don't know how much I've been longing for you. Your presence alone gives me joy. Having you touch me… it makes my heart pound and my body melt. The way you talk, the sounds you make... it’s perfect. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to know everything about you. I want all of you.”

“You can have that too…” You sighed out. 

“You drive me crazy.” He groans, leaning close again to kiss you deeply, caressing the sides of your body. He wasn't holding back anymore. He couldn't. He wanted you so much that it ached in his bones. His hands started sliding slowly but surely, caressing your back and waist. He couldn't get enough of you, and your body’s twitching and the sound of your heavy breaths was such a thrilling sensation that he was consumed by it entirely.

“Jason…” You pant out his name as you experimentally grind your body against his, whining when you feel his hard cock rub against your clothed cunt, your hands holding him tighter. 

The sound drove him crazy with arousal, his body wracked with longing. You felt so good and he couldn't help but lean into you more, allowing you to press against him over and over and over. The feeling of heat was flooding his entire being, his cock throbbing beneath his cloak.

He worships the feeling of you grinding against him for a few more moments, his breath coming out in husky pants before he rolls you onto your back, hovering above you. 

"Just be a good girl and let me do all the work, now." His voice is husky, needy, as he leaned down and kissed your neck again, his breath hot and his body trembling with anticipation. 

You whine again, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sudden ache between them. Your eagerness spurs him on, he presses a peck to your cheek before sitting back on his knees to gaze down at you. 

“Gods, you’re gorgeous.” He mutters, his hand slips up your shirt a little, and he shivers at the instant warmth of your skin. “Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, quickly pulling off your top and tossing it aside, revealing yourself to him.

Jason responds by leaning down to litter kisses over your body, a flush on his cheeks. His lips are soft and reverent almost as they softly touch your heated skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth sucking slightly, as a hand comes up to tweak and roll the other one. 

“Jay…” You call out his name, your back arching slightly,  and he never wants to stop hearing your voice. 

“I got you, princess.”

He lowers his mouth, trailing down your body until he reaches the hem of your bottoms. “Can I take this off, too?” 

“Do anything you want, Jay.” You breathe out, head dizzy with your need.

“You sure?” He asks, fingers hooking into both your pajama pants and underwear, dragging them down your body, uncovering inch after inch of your naked body. 

You look like a dream under him, eyes blown with lust, lips parted, body bare for him as you nod. He sets your clothes aside, going back to relishing you. 

You look away softly from embarrassment, “You take off your clothes, too…”

Your shyness got to him and he could help but laugh softly. You were so cute. He took a step back and off the bed, pulling off his cloak. He could feel your eyes watching his every movement, could feel your eyes rake his form as you settled on the bed. 

His gold adornments drop to the floor with a ‘clunk’, quickly followed by his black trousers. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You softly praise. You can’t help but to stare at him, eyes lingering on every sculpted muscle or coloured scar of his frame. 

He couldn't help but feel like you were the beautiful one. The way your eyes traveled over his body made his heart beat fast. He felt like he was on top of the world, knowing you admired him.

He climbs back onto the bed, taking his place between your legs as he lays on his stomach. His hands come to grip around your thighs, pulling you closer to him. 

“Oh.” You gasp slightly at the intimate position, gulping as your blood pumps faster through your veins. 

He slides a hand down towards your cunt, already slick for him. A thumb parts your swollen lips as he gently glides it up and down, before pressing it against your sensitive bud. 

“Ah-” You moan oh so sweetly for him, hips twitching as he starts rubbing your pretty clit. Your body was so responsive to him, and it makes a grin break onto his face. 

He brings his thumb away, making you frown before replacing it with his mouth, lips wrapped around the nub. 

“W-wait!” You cry out, hands flying into his hair as you do your best to not buck into his face. He smirked around you, starting to suck despite your call. Your reaction only added fuel to the fire burning inside him, your writhing body and shaky gasps were too much for him to handle. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just let yourself feel good.” He mumbles into your cunt before going back to sucking and lapping at you. He holds you close to his face, his grip firm to keep you as still as he could. 

He groans as you tug at his roots, the sound vibrating around your needy clit. Your desperate moans and whispers drove him crazy. He liked how fast you were breathing, how much you were moving. You were a squirming, twitching mess underneath him as the sensation became too overwhelming.

“Jason, oh my Gods.” You gasp.

“I’m your only God, now, right? Just me…” His hand moves to your fluttering hole, slowly pressing two fingers inside you. They slip in easily with how wet you are, dripping your desire down his wrists. He feels you clamp down on them, slick walls sucking him in further.

“Jason, Jay!” His name slips from your lips like a chant, a prayer wrapped in shallow breaths. 

“Keep saying my name just like that, pretty girl.” He loves the way you make it sound, loves the way you say it. Not Grip Reaper. Not Death. Just Jason. Your Jason. 

“Oh, Jay…” You breathe out his name like you’re struggling to even think.

“You’re such a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He coos, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. He smirks when you squeal as he curls his fingers up, pressing against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you. His arm moves to keep you down, pinning your hips to the bed as he goes back to tasting you.

“N-not there!”

“Why not? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“It’s too much!” You’re breathless, barely able to gasp out replies as he keeps abusing that spot inside you. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Jason slows his pace, fingers dragging painfully slow against your aching, slick walls, making you let out a needy mewl, clenching on him. 

“No! P-please don’t.” You pout, softly tugging at his head to turn his attention fully on you. 

“Say my name. Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate a bit, pondering your words. “Make me feel good, Jason. Make me cum.” Your tone is so soft and pleading, it’s the best worship he’s ever heard. 

The only prayers he’s ever heard were cries for his absence, beseeching his very being and purpose, but with you - he’s found a new one. You want him, you want him closer, you want him to make you feel bliss. He can do that. He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

He dives back down with a fervor, thick fingers working you quickly, the soft squelches increasing in volume and frequency. His tongue traces your clit, sucking and rolling and indulging in the way you writhe and whimper below him. 

He keeps going as you squirm uncontrollably, as your body tenses further and further, as your eyes glaze over and your heart pounds. Your nerves are frayed and begging for relief as the soft warmth of his tongue doesn’t let up. Your grip on his hair tightens, making him grunt low and husky into you. 

“Jason, m’gonna… can I please-?” You can barely make out full sentences, head fuzzy and blood searing as the dam inside you threatens to break. 

“You don’t have to ask, just do it.’ He murmurs; his cock throbs in his garments, waiting for you to release on his tongue. 

The feeling overtakes you, making you choke out a shaky cry as you climax. Your thighs squeezes his head, fingers buried deep into his dark locks as you tremble. You’re lightheaded and breathless and euphoria has settled in every inch of your veins. 

Jason removes his fingers, gripping your thigh as his mouth slots against your leaking cunt as he engulfs his tongue into your taste. He greedily laps up your slick, moaning as it blooms over his tongue - more sweet and addictive than even ambrosia. 

Your cries are so adorable as he continues to seek out every last drop of cum from you, your body pliant and weak below him as you keen and mew. 

“J-Jay…” You stutter out his name as your body twitches, sensitivity kicking in. 

“Yes, love?” He barely pauses to utter out those words, mind set on devouring you whole. 

“C-can’t!” He frowns, giving you one last lick before pulling himself away from you.

His eyes are filled with a feral like need, mouth smeared and shiny with the aftermath of your arousal. “Did that feel good?” He husks out, “You looked so divine, cumming.’

You’re panting hard under him, mind dizzy as you process his words, nodding in reply.

“I want to make you feel that way for the rest of eternity, you’ll let me right? You’ll stay with me?” Now that he’s had you, he doesn’t think he can survive on his own anymore. 

“Y-yeah, Jay.” You nod again, voice small. 

He raises himself up, licking you off his hand before he crawls over your body again. His legs slot between yours, tangling the both of you together. He leans down, sighing out in satisfaction as your damp, warm skin presses into his. 

His lips brush over yours, silently asking for permission to kiss you again. You accept him willingly, hands drifting to hang loose around his neck as you push your lips to his.

He groans, hand gripping your waist and the other running through your hair as he explores your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, spit mixing together as he groans into your lips. 

He pulls back, both your breaths lingering in the small space between your faces. He trails his nose down to the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth dragging lightly across the flesh. 

“I want all of you, so bad.” He groans. “I’ll do anything for you. Can you tell me I’m yours?”

He so desperately wants to belong to you - to know that one day you’ll accompany him in the deepest pits of Tartarus - that you’ll never let him be alone again. 

“You want to be mine?” Your tone is puzzled, words ending in a lilt. 

“Please.”

You smile, hands coming to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. “Who knew the God of Death would be so needy?” You tease.

“You try being alone and hated since the dawn of existence.” He sighs, melting into your touch. His eyes close, leaning into your palms. 

You giggle a bit. “We can be each other's.” Your lips break out into a grin as you bring his face down to yours, pressing pecks all over. 

He relishes your kisses, letting out a deep, happy sigh. His cock is still painfully hard, straining against his boxers, but he tries to ignore it. He opens his eyes and brushes your stray hair behind your ears, slightly damp with your sweat. 

“Jay,” You murmur his name, pulling back to look at him, “I want more.”

“More? You want me to eat you out again?” His mouth salivates at the thought of having your taste on his tongue again. He’ll do anything you ask. 

You shake your head, thumbs rubbing along his cheekbones, “I want you to fuck me, Jay.”  

“You do? Are you sure?” He whispers. 

His breath hitches as you nod, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. 

“I wanna feel you, Jay. J-just go slow, I’m still sensitive.”

“You’re sensitive?” He huffs out an amused breath, smiling softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You try to press your thighs together, getting excited by his promises and husky tone. He feels your legs shift around his, smirking as he takes in your desperate body language. 

He shifts back again, tugging his boxers down. Your eyes trail to his now exposed cock, standing proud and flushed and daunting. 

He’s…. big. 

Your jaw drops a little as you take him in, your mind reeling with thoughts of “Will it fit?”.

“Hm? Don’t worry. I said I was going to take care of you.” Jason murmurs, voice adoring. He positions himself back between your legs, hands lifting your legs to encourage them to wrap around his waist. You willingly follow his guidance. 

His hands come to hold your hips steady, hips canting forwards to rub the head of his cock through your folds. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” You reply softly, hands drifting to lay on top of his, gently grabbing his wrists. 

He pushes inside of you, pace steady and measured as he tries his best to let you adapt to him.

“Ohmyfuck…” You slur, words mushing together as you feel him stretch you out. You grip him a bit tighter. 

“Just relax, pretty girl.” He mutters, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down. He continues pushing himself inside you, making you feel every ridge and detail and inch. It’s slow and deliberate; he’s savoring watching the way your cunt sucks him in, the way your head tilts back, how shallow and quick your breaths have gotten. “Can you feel it? Am I too big for you?” He teases, eyes shining with both mischief and affection. He pushes forwards again. 

Your pussy flutters around the girth of him, slick pouring out with every second, making the process that much smoother. 

You try to take deep breaths, groaning softly as you feel the way he bullies into you, nestling deep inside. 

“S’it in yet?” You hiccup.

He chuckles softly, you were just so endearing. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of you. “It’s not even halfway yet, baby.” He coos. 

“S-still?” Your eyes widen a bit, as he laughs again.

“Just lay down and take it, princess. I’ll do everything, don’t think about a thing.” He leans down and silences your whimpers with a kiss. His lips lock onto yours as he swallows your moans, moving his hips until he feels you flushed against him. 

He pulls back, body once more shadowing over yours. His eyes drift down to where the two of you connect. “Look at that, she took me all in. I told you that you didn’t need to fret, love.” 

“A-ah, it’s so deep…” You mumble. 

“Isn’t it?” He grins. 

He starts to move back and forth, instantly groaning at the intoxicating sensation of you wrapped warm and snug around his pulsing cock. 

He keeps his pace slow, staying true to his promise. He doesn’t mind though, he’s just relishing in every little detail of you, burning the memory of how you look, feel, and sound into his mind - a treasure for eons to come. 

You’re moaning uncontrollably, hands moving to grip at his biceps, nails digging slightly into the skin. He grunts, liking the shark twang of pain that shoots through his body. 

He can feel you clamping around him desperately, like your body needed more. You’re so wet and sloppy, he can feel your slick smearing on his thighs with every thrust. 

“Feels s’good, baby.” He groans, and immediately he feels you clench on him again. “Did you like that?” He grins. 

“Uh-huh,” You nod dumbly, eyes unfocused as whines spill from your throat. 

“My pretty girl likes it when I praise her, huh?” The next words flow from him easily, he’s venerated you so much in his mind already that the flattery comes easy. He wants you to know exactly what you make him feel. “You’re so fucking perfect for me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Everytime he bottoms out you can feel him in your throat.

“J-Jay…”

Your bodies blend together, waves of pleasure overtaking you both with each long stroke. You can feel every inch and vein and crevice of him pushing against your sensitive walls. 

He continues speaking. “You make me fall apart so easily, my love. I want to give you my everything. I’ll be at your disposal from now on, you can do whatever you want with my body, as long as you stay by my side.” His tone is deep, dripping with lust. “Your pretty pussy takes me so well, it’s like you were made for my cock, yeah?”

A shiver of arousal runs through your body at his speech, lower body getting hotter. You feel like you’re surrounded by lava, melting and wound tight all at once. 

“Your body is so beautiful, I don't want anyone else to touch you; I want you only for myself.” His hands lift your hips up a little, his cock pressing inside even deeper than before, making you let out a yelp. 

He’s hitting every good spot inside you, knocking the breath from your lungs even with his sensual pace. You feel constant spurts of warmth pouring out of you, and you notice just how soaked the mattress is beneath your shivering body. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

“S-so much, Jay,” You whine out, clutching him harder. 

“Good, I want to be the only one that can make you feel like this.”  

Each rock of his hips gets you higher and higher, dangling on the edge of release. The glide of him is so smooth and sweet as he drags against you.

“M’gonna cum, Jay.” You sigh out, voice high and whiny.

“Good girl, go on and soak my cock. Show me just how much you’re enjoying this.” 

A few more more moments and you’re letting go, gripping his biceps hard as elation sinks deep into your bones. A sob of his name escapes your parted lips, body tingly and twitchy as endorphins rush through your veins. He groans as he feels your slick walls convulse around him. His grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he pulls out, his cum instantly spilling onto your stomach. Relief floods his system as he pants hard, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

The both of you bask in the afterglow of your climaxes, the soft sound of breathing drifting on the heated air. Jason thinks you look divine with your hair spread on the bed, his seed marking your skin as sweat glistens your body. You think the view of him above you, satisfaction prominent on his face, is just as sacred. 

When Jason’s body settles he gently slides out of you, smiling apologetically at your small wince. He goes to your bathroom, having memorized the layout of your house from all the times he’s visited you. He returns with a damp towel, mournfully wiping his traces off of you. He throws the rag into your laundry basket, crawling beside you in bed and pulling you into his chest.

“How ya doing, princess?” He whispers into your hair.

You give him a small, happy hum in return, scooting yourself even closer into him. 

"You're so soft," He mumbles, nuzzling into you. "This is where I want us to stay, for eternity. Nothing else, forever."

“That sounds perfect, Jay.” You reply, yawning slightly. 

Jason’s smile grows even wider, his arms tightening around you. He looks down at you with an adoring gaze, your warm and tender body slotting perfectly against his. "There is nothing, and no one in this world that I want more than you, my dearest."

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

requested tags: @a-deadbeat-fucking-valentine @in-som-niyah

[kaetastic]

PLAY ALONG

pairing: Sodo Ghoul x Ghoulette!F!Reader

summary: After debutting not so long ago, the fans seem to adore the new addition to their beloved band. However, after noticing how their fans react to their interactions- Sodo and Y/N test the waters to make their fans go feral.

word count: 1.2k+

warning: tension TENSION SEXUAL TENSION!!!

note: i've noticed the lack of reader being a part of the band so you know what TAKE THIS! also i love you phantom but this position is MINE!! (for this story lol) p.s i took 2 hours to write this because i was so excited and was on a GRINDD

"Dust." Papa's deep voice shook the venue, the vibrations flowing like waves from the source of the sounds into the thrilled crowd. With a microphone in his hand, the man who had the blinding sequined blue jacket pranced across the stage. The spotlight followed every movement he made, shining upon him as if he were a revealed prophecy.

Screams erupted from the crowd as they held their phones high up from the crowd- ready to capture moments from their favourite ghouls and ghoulettes. However, this night had been different since the few previous shows had sparked a new trend. Pupils and phone lenses were glued onto the lead guitarist who had been ripping his infamous white guitar while others stayed on the ghoulette who strung her black one.

There was excitement in the air that was missing from the tours before. It wasn't grand but it definitely felt significant. And oh, was that excitement going to explode. Bodies were jumping as Papa thrust his hips, his voice growling out, "In God you trust."

Swiss moved further into the stage and those closest to him let out high-pitched yells. Even though both parties knew there was no point in trying to make contact due to the large gap between them, there was always an attempt because the veins on the man's arm were irresistible.

"Your cavalier of crapulence, to this feast of rapacity."

If it wasn't loud before, now it was boisterous. Sodo's fingers were moving on their own- a result of countless practices, while his body shuffled over to the ghoulette.

Y/N or Raven (as she was known) had her lips pressed together as her mind was solely focused on giving a satisfying performance. Papa's voice bounced through her earpiece and her body obeyed the music and played the right chords. Despite the sudden incline of screams, she kept her gaze on the crowd with a smile. Playing an instrument was one thing, but serving a good performance for the crowd was another. Knowing that fact, she shouldn't have been surprised when she felt another body pressing her back.

Her mind needed a second to process who it was but her body was on its own journey. Not even a stagger in her performance. Throwing her head over her shoulders, she was met by the same mask encapsulating her head. The fans noticed how close their bodies were and more screams erupted from the front to the back of the venue.

"In God you trust."

With his other arm free, he placed his hand on her waist. It descended, following the curve of her body before he yanked her back to close the gap between them. Masterminds- that's what they were because everyone had been enamoured by the two. Phones from all the way back were faced in their directions, possibly recording the hundredth clip of that night.

After the recent shows, Y/N and Sodo had picked up how the crowd had loved when they were close to one another. So in a genius fashion, they both decided to interact more on stage.

Even though the light fell onto the back of their heads, shadowing the front of their masks, few realized the way Y/N had opened her mouth in shock at Sodo's action. They scrambled to open whatever social media they favoured, not bothered by the fact that their phone was holding onto the last bits of battery. Later on, the duo would find the clip to pull in more interested fans with their electrifying chemistry.

Leaning her head back to rest on his shoulder, Y/N realized something. Noises came from every angle. The sounds that were trapped by the large room bounced off the walls, wrapping around the people under its roof. Despite all this, she could clearly hear his heavy breathing. The man wasn't running around the stage, so why was he?

Then a smirk played on her lips. When they discussed their little plan, Y/N knew there would be rumours about the two but in any good marketing, denying those rumours would not be beneficial at all. She also knew that there would be other... feelings involved. Feelings that would be more apparent on him than on her.

Angling her lips towards his, she leaned in but not exactly closing in. Screeches blew up and a smirk played on her lips at her success. She breathed out onto his lips, "You hard?" Oh, the things she would do just to see his eyes beneath those opaque goggles. Sodo felt his body still behind hers. He was incredibly thankful that most of his face had been covered apart from his lips because his face gave away everything. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips at her question. So many things to be thankful for tonight. Especially to the guitar that covered the most telling parts.

Cirrus' part was up and Y/N pressed a hand on Sodo's chest to push him away. Making her way to the other side of the stage, she stood close to the edge, her feet perched on the blasting speakers. Unbeknownst to her, the same figure that was behind her had been trailing after her like a lost yet love-sickened puppy seeking attention. She should have known when phones were angled behind her.

With his hand free again, Sodo pushed his guitar to rest beside him, his front now free from the protection of the instrument. A small gulp swam down her throat once she felt something prodding her back. Lord. Placing his hand on the bottom of her neck, he ground his teeth as he brought it up to fully grasp it.

Another thing to be thankful for- no one had heard the silent moan that left her lips. Just for him.

"Very." Sodo gave a late reply.

"And divine you feel my thrust."

The ghoulette smirked at the coincidence of the lyrics for that moment.

"In God you trust."

Papa's thrusting towards the crowd caused strings of screams, and bubbles of excitement were waiting to burst out. The crowd was ready for the confetti. On the other hand, Sodo fans had their phones angled to capture his routine for Mummy Dust. This time... everyone knew that something would be different.

As the drumming got louder, Sodo ran his left down from Y/N's mouth to her neck- stopping above the curves of her chest. Just for a moment, a small part of her cursed him out for not going further down. Wrapping his fingers as if he was jacking off the air, Sodo had his head thrown back. He wished he was doing the exact same thing to himself right now.

The ghoulette turned her body to face him. His eyes changed course to watch as her hands slowly trailed down his chest. The fans were exhilarated at the sight, screaming at the sight of the pair they liked so much. Sodo felt his heart beat at its own hastened pace while the rest of his body was vibrated by the stage. His heart skipped one single beat. Y/N got on her knees with her eyes on his black lenses. She swore he had gulped when confetti was shot out onto the crowd.

This was definitely going to be awkward to talk about later.

[daisynik7]

“S&M” by Rihanna for Toji Fushiguro - smut

S&M

I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.0k

cw: smut - PIV sex (doggy style), cunnilingus, mild S&M practices - whips, blindfold, handcuffs, protected sex (for once lol), use of safe word, rough sex, pet names (cutie, sweetheart)

Summary: You are next-door neighbors with a man named Toji Fushiguro. You don’t know much about him, except for the fact that he’s a divorced father who spends every other weekend with his young son, Megumi. On the weeks he doesn’t have him, you notice the same trio of women visiting his house. One night, his package gets incorrectly delivered to your door. Too curious, you walk over to return it, only to find the front door unlocked and a naughty secret to discover.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for the request anon! I love Rihanna, so it’s no surprise that she’s on the y2k karaoke party playlist! I personally am not well-versed with S&M practices, so this was an experience to write, definitely a little bit out of my comfort zone, but I hope it’s still okay! This is more on the milder side, I'm sure. Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks for reading! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

You’re not usually this nosey when it comes to your neighbors, but something about Toji Fushiguro draws you in. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a divorced dad who takes good care of his adorable son, Megumi. Or maybe it’s the mysterious trio of women who frequently visits his house on the weeks he doesn’t have his child. Or maybe it’s his obvious good looks and impressive physique that you can’t help but notice every time he steps foot outside. Whatever it is, whether it’s a combination of all of the above, you just can’t get Toji Fushiguro off your mind. 

On this particular Friday night, you’re staying in, binging a TV show with a glass of white wine in your hands and a frozen pizza that you just baked in the oven. There’s a knock on your front door, which surprises you because you aren’t expecting anybody at this hour. You give it a few moments, seeing if there’s another knock. When none comes, you get up to scope it out, finding a large package directly in front of you and a delivery truck driving off in the distance. You check the shipping label, reading Toji’s name on it instead of yours. You glance at his front yard, spotting his car parked in the driveway and no one else’s. His girlfriends must have already left; you noticed their vehicle earlier beside his. 

Not bothering to change into anything presentable, currently wearing your sweats and fuzzy slippers, you carry the wrongly delivered package to its rightful owner, hoping if you can find some truth behind your neighbor’s unique bi-weekly ritual. You’ve thought about it before, the most likely answer being a polyamorous relationship or group sex. Still, it’ll put your mind to rest to know exactly what he does in there when little Megumi is away and Toji is free to play. So, you carefully lift the box, which isn’t heavy, over to his front door, setting it down to ring the bell. You push the button, then notice that the door is already open, slightly ajar. Another ring, and no one comes, though you’re certain you hear movement inside. 

You should turn around. Go back home, sink into your couch, continue the night as normal. Yet, your feet guide you in, closing the door shut behind you, tip-toeing farther into the house, waiting to catch Toji in the act, whatever that could be. Eventually, you make it to the living room, where you stand in the doorframe, searching for your neighbor, who you find sitting on the couch with his shirt off, scrolling through his phone. 

You knock on the wall, announcing your presence. He looks up, confused, inspecting you carefully before saying your name. “What are you doing in here?” He’s way more cavalier than you imagined he’d be, which you’re thankful for. 

You present the box to him, a nervous grin on your face as you explain, “This just got delivered to my house on accident. I rang the bell, but no one answered. And your front door was open, so I figured I’d just come inside to give it to you.” It’s a poor excuse; you really shouldn’t have barged in without permission. 

He seems to buy it though, rolling his eyes, muttering, “Damn Kimi. She’s always doing that.” He approaches you, grabbing the box from your hands. “Thank you for getting this to me. Been waiting for it all night, so I was bummed it didn’t come in on time.” He sets it down on the floor, kneeling beside it, ready to unwrap. 

You search the room, trying to find any clues of what they could be doing inside here. It looks normal, nothing nefarious standing out. Slightly disappointed, you take this as your cue to leave, turning on your heel to make your way back home. Before you can, Toji calls out your name and asks, “Don’t you want to see the little present I got? After all, it was almost yours. Would have loved to see your reaction if you opened it by accident.” His tone is playful, yet there’s something wicked behind his words. Something naughty.

You swallow hard, mouth already salivating. This isn’t how you planned your night to go, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about it before. You face him again, stepping towards the box slowly, sitting on the other side. He uses a pocketknife to slice through the tape, eyes lighting up as he reaches inside, holding up his delivered item like a treasure. It’s a riding whip, soft leather on one end, handle on the other. He smirks at you, slapping it against his palm, making a loud crack sound. You jump up, startled by the noise. He barks a laugh at your reaction, laying the whip down on the coffee table next to him. He reaches in again, pulling out three sets of fuzzy handcuffs, twirling one around his fingers. “Damn, would have been fun to use these tonight.” Glancing over at you, legs squeezed tightly together, arousal seeping through your panties, he scans you up and down, giving you a wicked smile. “You want to try these out, neighbor? I promise, I’ll go easy on you.”

It's ridiculous, right? Completely silly and irresponsible for you to agree to this, right? You blurt out your answer before you can even contemplate those questions logically. “Yes.”

He chuckles, biting him lip, eyes focused on your loins currently throbbing against the fabric of your sweats. You really wish you dressed up now, but it doesn’t matter, as he commands you to, “Strip.”

Almost too eagerly, you obey, kicking your slippers off and undressing, starting with your shirt, which you toss behind your shoulder. He studies you carefully, eyes following your every move as you slip out of your pants, down to only your underwear and bra now. He licks his lips, stepping closer to you. “Yeah,” he purrs, breath hot on your skin. “This will definitely work.”

~~~

Within minutes, you find yourself naked in his bedroom, blindfolded, wrists handcuffed behind you, face buried into the pillow, and ass up, perfectly vulnerable for him to do as he pleases. The two of you establish a safe word: mignon, because he thinks you’re cute, and the filet mignon is his favorite cut of meat. He suggests several acts he wants to perform on you and lets you decide which ones you want to go through with. You make your choice, asking to be spanked with the new whip he received. Something about breaking in one of his new accessories turns you on. 

Not being able to see anything, you listen carefully to what he’s doing behind you. You hear him unwrap the condom wrapper, sliding the latex over his cock. Then, there’s a squelch, most likely the lube he’s pouring into his hand, coating his shaft with it. “Are you ready, cutie? I’m going to start with the whip first, okay?” You nod, heart pounding in your chest, nervous and thrilled all at once.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words. I have to hear you say it.”

You swallow your spit, trying to speak coherently. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Good. That’s a good girl.” You feel the cool leather against your skin, anticipating it as he counts down. “Three, two, one.” Then, smack. It’s quick, painful for only a few seconds. You can tell he’s holding back, cautious of you. “Did you like that?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you say, wiggling your ass to him. “Give it to me harder.”

He chuckles, swearing under his breath. “Fuck, okay. I’ll go harder then.” He counts down once more, the slap definitely more intense this time. Your skin stings from the contact and it feels like you’re already gushing from your cunt, core tight with pleasure. 

He continues this until he’s delivered ten smacks to each of your ass cheeks. Your body is sweltering now, the skin on your ass surely hotter than the rest of you. Your pussy flutters, aching to be filled, clit throbbing, desperate to be licked. “Toji,” you whimper, drooling from the sides of your mouth. “Fuck me.”

There’s that laugh again, low, taunting, so fucking sexy. “Not yet. Want to make you come before I fuck this pretty cunt.” He positions himself beneath you, between your legs. “Fuck my face. You can be rough with me. I can take it.”

His grip is firm on your hips, guiding you as you ride him, spreading yourself over his wide tongue and gaping mouth. He’s eats you better than any guy you’ve ever fucked before, sloppy and wet, as if he thoroughly enjoys slurping at your juices. He slides his hands over your ass, massaging the skin made raw from his spanking. And before you get a chance to warn him, you come all over his face, gushing into his mouth. 

“Fuck yeah,” he muffles, lapping up your slick. “So fucking good for me.”

Desperate now to be filled, you beg, “Please, Toji. Fuck me. Need you inside me.”

He slides out from beneath you, positioning himself behind you with his cock pressed between your ass cheeks. “I need it too, cutie. Need to pump my fat cock inside this perfect pussy.” He moans loudly as he slides himself inside you, stretching you out, inch by inch, until you swallow him whole. He thrusts into you, slowly at first while you adjust to his length. Gradually, he picks up the pace, pounding you hard and fast, his grip on your wrists, still bound by the handcuffs. The stretch in your shoulders is starting to burn now, arms pinned way back as he uses it for leverage. It’s not enough to coax the safe word out of you, yet. You need more of him to satiate this overwhelming desire.

“You’re taking it like such a good girl,” he moans, pumping himself into you. “Did you ever think about this before? Think about me?”

“Fuck yes. All the time,” you admit, drooling onto the pillowcase. 

“Shit, I knew it. I knew I should have slutted you out sooner,” he growls, bullying his way deeper. It’s almost too much. Almost. A couple more strokes and it actually is, your shoulders sore, nervous they’ll pop out of its sockets. You’ve had your fill of him, your guts feeling like they’ve been rearranged by his massive cock. You’re tempted to stay quiet, not wanting this to end just yet. But your body is begging you for a break. 

“Mignon,” you croak out, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling out, immediately unlocking the handcuffs on your wrists and untying the blindfold. “You were taking that so good.” He flips you over on your back, inspecting you. For the first time since you started, you make eye contact with him, your heart swelling from the genuine smile on his face, gazing at you fondly. “Are you okay, cutie?” He brushes the tears from your eyes, cupping your cheek in his calloused palm.

You nod, mumbling an exhausted, “Yes,” closing your eyes to lean into his touch. 

He cuddles you, kissing your neck as he continues to stroke himself off. He trails down your chest, latching his lips around your nipple, sucking until he comes inside the condom. When he’s done, he removes it, tying the open end closed and tossing it into the waste basket next to him bed. 

It’s silent for a few moments as the two of you relax in each other’s arms. Eventually, he clears his throat to say, “This was fun. I usually don’t do this outside of the group.”

You understand that he’s referring to the trio of women who you saw earlier, and finally, the mystery is solved. Slightly disappointed, you respond, “I’m sorry if I messed anything up.”

He smiles at you. “You didn’t.”

You snuggle closer, kissing him softly. His lips melt into yours, tongue slipping inside your mouth. When you break apart, you ask, “Then, should I only show up when they show up?”

He shakes his head, smirking. “No. I think I want you as my own special plaything from now on.”

[sydforreal24]

this is so random but I recently went to a ballet concert and I couldn’t stop thinking about arlecchino..

This might be so ooc but I need to write this before I sleep

also it’s first time writing this may be a bit bad…

Some sfw and some nsfw utc!!

Cavalier!Arlecchino, who holds your waist impossibly tight as the two of you sway on stage while performing Black Swan Pas de Deux.

Cavalier!Arlecchino, who’s movements are slow and sensual. The soft scrape of her fingertips down your arms, her head slotted perfectly against your neck and her soft lips so close you swear you felt a feather-like kiss. As you penché for the crowd, your mind is elsewhere.

Cavalier!Arlecchino, who soaks up your form with her eyes from across the stage, practically eye fucking you as she waits to initiate a grand jeté lift. Not daring to hide her gaze as she basks in the tightness your dress had to offer.

Cavalier!Arlecchino, who perfectly lifts you above herself. Her strength unmatched and your pretty little waist squeezed as the audience gasps and claps.

Cavalier!Arlecchino, who loathes the attention you get from the guests. Men asking for autographs and hugs, women gushing about your beauty and your impeccable talent on the stage. It was all the same in her eyes and she’d grown tired.

Cavalier!Arlecchino, who adds her own Final Act and fingers you senseless in the dressing room. Your mind numb as she does everything in her power to make you scream. The curl of her fingers, her soft praises coaxing you through it…the sound of your wetness fills the room as she molds your insides into a perfect sculpture. Hitting every nook and cranny that makes you cry out and clench around her. You’d be embarrassed at how fast you finished if it didn’t feel so ethereal. You dare chase it again.

Cavalier!Arlecchino, who ends the session with her perfect little canvas inked with hickies, scratches and bites that she just knows you adore <333

——————————————————————————

also for those who don’t know a Cavalier is basically a dance partner in ballet (according to my sources…) and it’s primarily a man but I put her cause she’s my wife and idc!!

[happyheidi]

Frida says hello 😌🥰❤️ look at that angel!!

[shmothman]

Defying Fate

Pairing: Casper/Reader Rating: Teen and up audiences Words: 991 Read on AO3

Summary: Finally, you and Casper are together in person, tangled together with your feelings laid bare. Still, there are some things that he needs to ask.

With your head resting on Casper’s bare chest and his fingers smoothing over your hair, you don’t think you’ve ever felt quite so happy, so in love. You’ve been making good use of the past hour or so since he showed up at your door in person, and you practically feel like you’re walking on air.

You can’t believe he’s real.

You can’t believe any of this is real.

But you’re so, so glad that it is.

He calls your name softly, his voice like heaven, and you hum a questioning tone back as you’re pulled from your thoughts, loath to move from your comfortable spot against his chest.

“I…” he starts, and you immediately hear that he sounds nervous, so you look up at him, eyes brimming with all the feelings swirling in your heart. “I am certainly not complaining, but… I… I need to know…”

Your brows draw together in confusion as he seems to gather his thoughts. “Know what?”

He meets your eyes, and his gaze is… sad. Remorseful. “How… how are you okay with this?”

You blink. “What, having sex with you?”

His cheeks flush that pretty pink you adore so much. “N-not that,” he rushes to say, before growing serious once more. “I mean… with being with me. After I have spent the last several years trying to kill you. Doesn’t… does that not bother you? You act as if it’s nothing.”

Oh. That’s what’s on his mind.

You settle back into his arms, laying your head next to his so that your noses almost touch. His gaze is so open and honest, it almost makes your heart hurt. “Well,” you say quietly, “no harm, no foul, I guess?”

He exhales through his nose in something that’s almost like an amused little laugh. “You are so… cavalier about things, Sunshine. Is that truly all you think of it?”

For a grim reaper, Casper sure does wear his heart on his sleeve. Not that you’ve met any other reapers yet—maybe they’re all like this. 

You bring your hand to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone and watching the way his eyes flutter closed. How do you love him so much when you’ve only known he exists for a week?

“I… don’t know, honestly. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it. All I know is how I feel about you.” 

He blinks his eyes open, and the look on his face is so very hopeful. Like he needs to hear you tell him that it doesn’t matter to you, that it doesn’t change how you feel about him.

“It’s like… by the time that I realized you’re, y’know, actually the grim reaper and everything, I already felt like I had known you for ages, and that was only after like, two days. And then I get this massive revelation that every weird thing that’s happened to me, everything that people say is crazy but is just my everyday experience, that’s all you? That’s all the doing of this pretty boy on my computer screen?”

He pouts slightly at being called a pretty boy, but you continue.

“But, I mean, I’ve never taken my constant near death experiences seriously. You’ve been watching, right? Have you ever seen me react in any way that isn’t just… a shrug?”

“I suppose not,” he says. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been the one trying to end your life.”

“You said it yourself, Casper. If it wasn’t you, it would be another reaper. Normally ‘I was just doing my job’ would be a terrible excuse, but given that we’re in the realm of like, fate and magic and the balance of nature type shit, I can’t fault you too much here.” You grin. “I just happened to get lucky, and they assigned me to the one reaper who would fall head over heels for me the minute he decided to break protocol and talk to me.”

He’s blushing again, and you think he’s about to protest the idea that he fell for you that quickly, but instead, he leans in to touch his forehead to yours and says, “any reaper would have fallen for you. I’m the one who got lucky.”

Your heart flutters happily in your chest, and you sound rather breathless as you say, “okay, maybe we’re both lucky,” and you lean in to press your lips to his.

You feel him melt beneath your kiss, as he has every time so far, like he’s turned to liquid: quicksilver at your touch, shimmering and cold. If he says that you’re like sunshine, then you say he’s the moon: something beautiful and bright in the darkness, the light by which you find your way home.

As you pull back slightly, there’s a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Or,” you say, “maybe it’s just fate.”

He’s been made breathless by your kiss, but he still smiles back. “Perhaps,” he replies into the scant space between you. “Though, I’m growing fond of the idea that this is in defiance of fate itself. That we are making our own destiny.”

You hum, as if thinking deeply. “Well, clearly we both love breaking the rules, especially for each other.” With a sudden grin, you shift, rolling yourself atop him and watching those pretty red eyes go wide. “Whaddya say we defy fate all night?”

That vivid blush crawls up to his ears, then down his neck to splash across his bare chest. Unable to summon words, he simply nods.

You waggle your eyebrows, only just getting started with your terrible jokes. “Wait, wait, I got another one: how’s this for destiny?” 

He rolls his eyes with a huff that doesn’t mask his clear affection, and opens his mouth—probably to call you annoying or something, but he doesn’t get that far, because you’re already kissing him again.

And that’s something he won’t defy.

[strwberri-milk]

Pretty in Pink

Rafayel x GN!Reader || Insecurity Comf || 1 640 words

additional tags: readers body is undefined but beautiful is used as a word to describe attractiveness once or twice

“Do we really need to go shopping?” you whine, wishing you could just drag your heels into the ground as the two of you approach the high-end department store Rafayel insisted you needed to visit today.

“Talia’s going to make fun of me if I can’t even spoil the love of my life a little bit,” he says simply, keeping his hand on yours as you rest it in the crook of his elbow.

The staff immediately recognise him, clamouring around him as they ask if he wants his jacket taken care of, if he needs his car washed then reparked. It seems whatever whim he has they’re more than desperate to fulfill it, watching him with equal parts adoration and envy. You’re still a little shy when it comes to the glamour that comes with being his partner, unsure where you stand. He simply glances at you and now the attention is being pushed onto you, so flustered Rafayel ends up having to direct the staff to your needs himself.

“You sure do shop here a lot, don’t you?” you say as the two of you settle in a private dressing room.

“Not really actually,” he says, sipping on some sort of sparkling drink. They offered champagne but he refused it, citing driving you home and his own tendency to be a lightweight.

“That’s why they’re so desperate. The commission they make off the outfits I buy for you today is going to set them for a while.”

“Outfits? Plural? I thought we were just doing a one and done,” you exclaim incredulously, feeling out of place with all the splendour of the store.

“Well, you hate shopping so I thought we could just knock it all off in one fell swoop. At least until you decide you want something new. Don’t worry about how much stuff costs – there’s no tags on anything.”

He’s so cavalier about the whole ordeal you have to think he was born rich. You really have no idea considering he hasn’t candidly talked about his childhood but the fact that he constantly takes you places with no price tags reminds you that money is just an object to him. Suddenly you feel insecure in the simple clothes you picked out for today, picking at a hem and shifting your feet uncomfortably. You thought you’d made the right choice when he said you were going shopping, thinking comfort and something easy to change in and out of would be the right choice.

“It won’t take too long,” he says, interrupting your train of thought. “You look beautiful in everything so I really doubt we’ll be unable to find something to you.”

You laugh awkwardly, now suddenly hyperaware of the way your body looks in the gilded mirror sat across from the two of you. Perhaps you should have opted for the dressing room that had a private changing area as well but Rafayel insisted that it’d be fine. He has seen every inch of you after all but something about this moment feels far too different.

“Maybe we should change rooms. I’ll go ask the attendant,” you say without warning, getting up and walking past him.

He takes the opportunity to pull you onto his lap, frowning at you.

“Why would we do that? This room is nice enough. Besides, they’ll be coming back soon enough with a bundle of clothes for you to try on. You don’t want to really inconvenience them so much by making them swap rooms?”

Logically, the room you want to change to is just next door. However, your need to please outweighs that sense of logic, biting on your bottom lip as you weigh the options over. Your turmoil isn’t missed by Rafayel and he brushes his lips against yours, making a soft humming noise to draw your attention back to him.

“Try it out for a little bit and then we can change if you really hate it, yeah?” he offers, not wanting to push you too far out of your comfort zone.

“…fine. But just because it’s you,” you pout, making no move to get out of his lap as the staff finally start filing in.

Your eyes go wide with the assortment of clothes they’ve chosen. Rafayel was practically barking orders at them earlier, giving them a list of cuts and colours and sizes for them to draw from. Clearly, they know what they’re doing as they’re able to draw a year’s worth of clothing from his instructions. They go through and show the two of you what goes with what, justifying their choices with some sort of fashion theory you barely manage to understand.

When you look over at Rafayel he looks like a kid in a candy shop. His eyes run over the racks of clothing, darting back and forth so quickly you’re sure he’s mentally cataloguing what pieces to swap with what to create new ensembles. You trust him wholly, aware he knows what he’s doing but you can’t help but wonder if the pieces will actually look good on you.

Once the staff finally leaves Rafayel happily pulls you over, selecting the first outfit he wants you to try on. Despite the fact that there was no reserved changing area he turns around and closes his eyes, insisting that he wants it to be a surprise.

You get dressed quickly, trying not to overthink the fabric sliding over your body. It’s uncomfortable and almost cumbersome but the thought of him smiling at you gets you through it. The quicker you get dressed the quicker this is all done and you can convince him to take you to the arcade as payment for torturing you so.

“I’m done,” you say hesitantly, still tugging at your clothes.

He turns around quickly, excited smile softening as soon as his eyes meet your form. His hands wander your body, brushing your hand off of your body as he replaces them, pulling you in by the waist.

“You look great,” he says affectionately, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“I’d say we should stop here but considering how amazing you look in just this I can’t help but imagine you’d look in some of the other choices. I want to see how you look in something that’s more adventurous than just a suit jacket and some slacks. This is good enough for some boring donor event but not good enough for Talia’s show.”

You let him help you strip down before urging you into a more complicated array of fabrics. You don’t doubt that they look lovely but you doubt they have the desire effect when on your body, twisting and turning every which way when you stand in front of the mirror. A glimpse of him is caught in the reflection, still looking at you with that adoring look.

“Maybe this will take longer than I thought,” he sighs, pulling another outfit from the racks. “You do look great in anything you wear. How are we going to choose?”

An hour or two passes and the two of you finally come near to drawing a close on your try on haul. Rafayel somehow looks more exhausted than you do, laying back on the couch with an arm over his eyes. You’re finally back to the clothes you came in, more comfortable than before. All of them were lovely there was no contesting that but there was something that simply made them…less lovely.

He, on the other hand, seemed to adore you in everything. He constantly showered you in his attention, hands careful as they pick and preen at you. You can tell by the way his hands twitch that he wants to grab at you, pulling strings taut across your body and doing up buttons that you can’t quite reach.

“Just pick whatever you want me to wear to the event and I’ll be more than happy to wear it,” you sigh, leaning back on the couch with him.

“That’s just the problem. It all looks so good on you.”

He groans a little before finally standing up to talk to the staff. You can’t quite make out what they’re saying through the thick fabrics of the curtain, feeling a little antsy now that he’s gone. You perk up when he finally returns, watching as he returns to your side.

“It’ll take a bit of time but they’re going to wrap up everything for me. If it doesn’t all fit in the car then they’ll just mail to the house no problem.”

“You – did you buy all of them?!”

“You look great in all of them. I’ll just get a closet or something built for them all. Don’t worry about it.”

He notices your hesitance, taking your hand in his.

“What’s wrong? If you hate them all I’ll tell them I changed my mind.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…do you really think that?”

His brows furrow, looking at you in confusion.

“Think what?”

“That I look great in all those clothes. It feels like I’m putting on costume after costume,” you confide.

“You really think that? Weird. I think you look great in all of them.”

He pulls you over on his lap, admiring your face for a brief moment before kissing you passionately. His hands hold your hips in place as he continues to kiss you, gripping you so tightly you couldn’t move away if you even wanted to. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, gasping softly when he turns ravenous for your touch. His thumb comes up to the corner of your mouth, lightly pushing the two of you apart.

“All I could think about when I saw you was how lucky I am and how badly I wanted to kiss you,” he says dazedly, pressing another kiss to your lips.

[katakaluptastrophy]

It's weird church lady hours in my TLT fixated brain, and I want to know what a sacrament is in the religion of the Nine Houses.

Because the terms "sacrament" and "sacramental" pop up a lot in HTN.

Much of Harrow's look seems to be made up of things described as sacramental: her face is painted with a "sacramental skull", the paints requiring appropriate blessing or otherwise are replaceable with blood. She wears sacramental vestments, and even the shorn heads of Ninth House cavaliers are described as "sacramentally shorn".

Most of that sounds very much like the Catholic concept of "a sacramental" - something that's a sign of a spiritual effect, like a blessed rosary, or making the sign of the cross. The painted face, the veiled head of the necromancer, or the shorn head of the cavalier being a sign of divine protection or blessing. Or perhaps those things are understood to be sacraments in and of themselves - outward signs of an inward grace, the blessed paint imparting some kind of spiritual power or effect in and of themselves from Jod or the Tomb. (Longer thoughts about Ninth veiling here)

Harrow prays to the Tomb before replacing Ianthe's arm, and thinks that she is going to "sacramentally adore" Ianthe's bones. (Is that what the kids are calling it these days?).

But a Lyctor is in themself apparently "a walking sacrament".

And then, of course, there's this quote from Jod:

You said... “The cavaliers—”

“Have joined their Lyctors,” he said. “It’s not really a lie. It’s simply a flattening of an awesome…and sacramental…truth."

It was around this point that I realised that Lyctors are like vampires.

The Catholic Church has seven sacraments, but the biggie is the eucharist, which Catholics believe is the actual transformation of bread and wine into the flesh and blood of Jesus, which are consumed by the faithful, uniting them with Him. And the ultimate goal is of course eternal life with God in Heaven.

Vampires have been understood as a sort of inversion of eucharistic theology: a demonic perversion of consuming flesh and blood to gain eternal life.

You can probably work out where this one is going with the immortals who hang out with the guy they think is god and whose powers come from consuming another person both spiritually and physically...

What's interesting about this in universe is that Jod is consciously interacting with concepts from Catholic theology, or at least was when he first decided to start his own special brand of sad girl necromantic space Catholicism. Not that he's particularly consistent with it, since he tells Harrow that Lyctorhood is both sacramental and an indelible sin... But at some point a conscious choice has been made on Lyctors and the concept of sacramentality. And while clearly the metaphysical world that Tamsyn Muir is imagining is one where the spiritual reality is not going to align with either Catholicism or with Jod's long con, the resonance of the vampire mythos feels very apropos.

As far as in world use goes, I want to know if they're just throwing around these terms to mean something like "holy" or if they relate to more specific practices within the religion of the Nine Houses? Are there defined sacraments? What does the religion of the Nine Houses even look like, outside of the Ninth? The Eighth seem to have a holy book and a practice of confession, there seem to be priests and religious orders aplenty even beyond the heretical Ninth, and there seems to be a concept of blessing and of intercessory prayer (but as Abigail Pent points out, there is apparently also no theology of omnipotence, though the jury is still out on omniscience and omnibenevolence, I guess).

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

One thing I like about Nimona that I haven't seen brought up yet (and maybe I'm alone here) is that Nimona becomes more sympathetic to the audience at the same pace that she becomes more sympathetic to Ballister (kinda long analysis below sorrys)

Like, I know not everyone agrees, but on my first watch of the movie, I found her downright annoying for the first like, quarter of the film. I don't find her annoying upon rewatch at all, I absolutely adore her, but the first time I watched it I reacted with a similar distaste as Ballister-- not because she was a shapeshifter or queer, obviously, but because she appears completely tone-deaf to Ballister's situation when the man is experiencing probably the worst thing anyone could imagine, she jeopardizes his reputation even more by pretending to be him while menacing the public, constantly undermines his efforts to minimize harm and clear his name, and just does as she feels without regard to others.

Then you start to learn why she acted that way, just as Ballister does. You (and Ballister) start to see that his efforts are in vain, that trying to minimize harm or clear his name doesn't work in his favor and is impossible to achieve, and Nimona knew that all along so of course she didn't care! She's seen this film before enough times to stop taking it seriously. If the outcome is always the same, why not have a little fun with it?

Her whimsical mannerisms start to look less annoying and tone-deaf and more powerful and brave (that she could be so determined to be herself despite everything). She starts to look less carefree, and more jaded. You realize that she's only carefree because it hurts too much to care.

And Ballister's line "Let's break stuff" is the turning point where we see that she (or rather, the Institute) has taught him to embrace chaos and be himself, because they're not going to listen either way.

And the subsequent scene, where Ballister offers to take her away from the walls and she says "No, this isn't right, we have to take the Institute down" shows that Ballister taught her to care again because he proved that people can change. They both had an important lesson they needed to learn from the other, basically: "Don't expect the system to work in your favor but don't be a doomer about it either" lol

And it hurts when Bal turns on her because you can kinda see where he's coming from, it would make sense that a lonely, lonely creature would possibly sabotage someone else hated by society so that they could finally have a friend. It would explain why she acted so cavalier about his reputation, constantly threatened people and undermined him, made them both out to be far more villainous than they were. She was acting out of indifference, but it came across to him as malice, and while we the audience know that obviously the eponymous character isn't a twist villain, Ballister wouldn't, and further, how much easier would it be to believe that this one person double-crossed you, rather than to believe everything you ever knew was a lie? So he turned his back on her.

And he, and the audience see what a huge massive fuckup that was.

What I like is you don't even NEED her backstory to sympathize with her, and neither did Ballister. This isn't a case of "character was unbearable for the entire time but they have sad backstory so they're now likeable I guess Snape). She was already sympathetic and likeable. We already understood her. The backstory was just extra context, nothing more, and that is fucking excellent writing.

We slowly learn to love Nimona for herself at the same rate that Ballister does, rather than being irritated wishing she was something else. And I absolutely, absolutely love that. She doesn't "become" more likeable, you learn that she was likeable all along.

[diazsdimples]

Why no I’m not here to encourage a ballet au… why do you ask???

Hippo you absolute menace, why do I put up with you?? Having said that...

When Buck walks into the rehearsal room for the New York City Ballet for the first time, he can’t quite believe he’s made it.

Here he is, standing among some of the best dancers North America has to offer, and they’re treating him like an equal, rather than the usual upturned noses or judgemental looks ballet dancers have often perfected. A group of women stand by the barre, doing some warm-up stretches before rehearsal starts, and at the other end of the mirror stands two of the most beautiful men Buck has ever seen.

They’re fairly evenly matched in height and size, both lean and strong, their muscles not huge like some of the bodybuilders Buck is used to seeing at the gym, but sculpted, with rippling muscles that convey a subtle power, used for performing complicated lifts but looking effortless and graceful as they do so.

The shorter of the two looks up as he enters the room, and Buck’s mouth goes dry as a pair of warm, brown eyes, like two pools of molten chocolate, meet his. This man is gorgeous. His hair is silky and brown, with a few strands that flop carelessly into his face, and he’s got a light shadow of stubble over his jaw. He’s wearing a tight, black tank top that clings to his body like a second skin and shows every ounce of muscle in his arms. There’s a small, circular tattoo, with what looks like some loopy writing on his forearm, almost mirroring the delicate lines on Buck’s own.

Buck is still drinking in the first man when he leans forward and whispers something in the second man’s ear, and he turns around too.

Holy fuck. Does the New York City Ballet hire on looks first and dancing skills second?

This man is taller, probably by a good few inches, and while the first man is soft and gentle looking, this man is sharper, more defined, and radiating raw power in the way his muscles flex beneath his white tank. He’s a little curlier than the other man, with icy blue eyes that pierce into Buck’s own. He smiles at Buck, his nose crinkling in a way that’s nothing short of adorable, and beckons Buck over.

Buck allows his legs to carry himself towards the two men, his brain not coming online enough to even rehearse his opening line, before he’s standing in front of them.

“Uh, hi,” he says eloquently, his mouth feeling drier than the Sahara. “I’m Evan Buckley, new principal. But – uh – everyone calls me Buck,”

“Hey Evan,” Blue Eyes says at the same time Brown Eyes says “Nice to meet you, Buck.”

“I’m Eddie Diaz,” Brown Eyes says, holding his hand out for Buck to shake. “Playing the Nutcracker.”

Buck tries not to make it super obvious how star-struck he is right now. “H-hey Eddie, nice to meet you,” he replies, taking the man’s hand. It’s warm and Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand lightly as he shakes it, his long fingers pressing against Buck’s knuckles.

“Tommy Kinard,” says Blue Eyes, extending his own hand when Eddie releases his. “Rat King.”

Buck can’t entirely believe that here he is, on his first day as a Principal Dancer for the New York City Ballet, and he’s meeting the two male leads. He might need to pinch himself, if it weren’t for the fact that Tommy’s squeezing his hand a little harder than necessary, the slight pain enough to convince Buck that yes, this is really happening.

“You’re new here, aren’t you? Which part have you got?” Eddie asks kindly, leaning against the barre. His arm crosses over with Tommy’s making it look like their arms are almost linked. The way they’re standing, and the familiarity Buck could see in their expressions earlier, he can’t help but wonder if they’re in a relationship. Or good friends, at the very least.

He licks his lips before talking and wills himself not to sound like a total dork.

“I’m playing Cavalier,” he said threading his fingers together as he stands in a bastardisation of 4th position that his old tutor always used to yell at him for. “First time as a lead.”

Tommy smiles softly, his eyes raking over Buck’s body as though sizing him up.

“It’s not so scary once you get to know everyone,” he reassures Buck, placing a hand just above Buck’s elbow.

“Yeah,” Eddie adds, flashing a dazzling grin in Buck’s direction that have his joints turning a little gelatinous. “We’ll show you the ropes.”

Now sit there and think about what you've done

(Gonna cheekily tag a few friends to alert them that I've been bullied into starting a new wip) @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @bidisasterevankinard @steadfastsaturnsrings @spotsandsocks