#do you know how particular it would have been?

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, kidnapping, LOTS of non-consensual touching, threats of violence, implied public sex, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Geto Suguru is a surprisingly tactile man.

You wouldn't expect it from a man so cold, so withdrawn, so prone to keeping his hands tucked in his sleeves away from any filthy, undeserving lesser beings like yourself, but it's not hard to spot once you know what you're looking for. When his girls were young enough to put up with it, he always had at least one, if not both of them in his arms, and his preferred form of greeting towards those in his select, but not exclusive inner circle has always been a hug, kiss, or some combination of both. Even when he claims he can't stand to look at you, when he orders you to bathe in scalding-hot water before admitting you so much as might be worth of his affections, he never lasts more than a few minutes before slipping in beside you with excuses of 'you're not thorough enough' or 'I can't even trust you to do this correctly' ready on his tongue. It might be sweet, if it wasn't so controlling. You're not really in a place to complain, though.

He likes keeping you close. For someone he claims is nothing more than a pest, he treats you akin to a lapdog; constantly calling your name, constantly petting through your hair, constantly keeping you pressed against his side or slotted against his chest or perched on his lap, an arm as thick as your leg wrapped around your waist to better snuff out your attempts to squirm. Any attempts to withdraw before he allows you to are met with punishments of the most severe order. You don't like being at his beck and call, having to sit through his depraved sermons for the sole reason that he doesn't trust you to leave his sight, but it's better than being shackled to his bedpost for another four weeks. You can be a lapdog, so long as you aren't a collared one.

Even the politest touch he offers you is unspeakable invasive. You're not sure how he manages to turn something as simple and as shallow as grazing you're lower back into yet another show of his authority over you. Part of it just might be the whole 'genocidal cult leader' shtick (it's hard not to find someone a little creepy after they've abducted, tortured, and traumatized you), but you'd like to think that even if you had entered into his company more willingly, you'd still find his intimacy more than a little off-putting. The worst of it comes at night, when he assumes you're asleep. The way he holds you to his chest, clings to you like a child does a stuffed animal might be cute in another context, but it rarely serves to endear him to you. If anything, it only proves that even unconscious, his greatest pleasure in life is smothering you.

Worst of all, he's handsy. That, in itself, shouldn't be all that surprisingly, but the lecherousness of it, the shameless of it still manages to leave you as disgusted as you are unnerved. It's rare for a full hour to pass in his company without his hand slipping under the collar of the silken kimono's he dresses you in and groping at your best until he's left indents in the shape of his blunt nails. Other times, his fingers will find their way underneath your skirts or into the waistband of your shorts while he's preoccupied with another matter, splitting you open on his fingers with all the attention one might pay to tying their shoes or brushing their hair. If you're lucky, he'll choose a private moments, one where you'll be forced to fall apart for his entertainment alone, tucked safely away from the prying eyes of his co-conspirators and congregation.

You don't get lucky very often.

Sometimes, you think he does it just to be cruel. He does most things to be cruel, and this would be far from the only way he's cruel to you, in particular. But, when drapes himself over you at night, when he drags you so suffocatingly close to his side, when he grinds his palm into your most sensitive point of vulnerability and whispers so possessively that you ought to be thankful for each second long he lets you live, it's not cruelty you see in Suguru's dark eyes, but rather something much, much more dangerous.

Desperation.

[cherryxbooo]

You’re my ideal type

Summary: A video from a year ago of Oscar talking about his ideal type went viral, making his fans wonder why he chose his girlfriend. This leaves y/n with a lot of questions herself .

Note: First time writing for Oscar! I kinda went with the flow. Let me know what you think! 😌

Reader x Oscar Piastri

Genre: fluff/angst

It was a beautiful, sunny day in Monaco. I was out with two of my friends, enjoying brunch together and soaking up the good vibes.

We spent hours talking, laughing, and joking around—overall, it was a fantastic time.

Afterward, we decided to go for a stroll. That’s when we stumbled upon a gorgeous spot with an incredible view. For girls, that can only mean one thing: a photo session. And, of course, we took full advantage.

We snapped countless pictures of each other—exactly what I needed. I’d been wanting to update my Instagram feed, and I knew Oscar would appreciate a few of these too. A win-win situation if you ask me.

Hours later, we decided to head home. Parting ways was bittersweet, but we all had things to do.

When I finally arrived at the place Oscar and I shared, I immediately went inside, feeling my social battery completely drained.

I glanced at the clock and sighed. There were still a few hours to go before Oscar would be home. Feeling a little bored, I decided to tackle some household chores to pass the time.

Eventually, I finished everything and switched to full-on "bed rotting" mode. As I scrolled mindlessly on my phone, I remembered the stunning photos we’d taken earlier.

Sitting up, I started going through them, carefully picking out the best ones to upload to Instagram.

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yourusername Days like these ☀️💐

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oscarpiastri Pretties girl ❤️ by author

alexandrasaintmleux Gorgeous ❣️

yourusername Says you 💋

f1_dailylvr81 She's so girly coded love it 💅

fashionistaformula I can't be the only one thinking about that one interview of Oscar?

paistryln481 You're not alone, every time I see her I keep thinking about it

foryoutt16 Wait what? I'm lost, what happened?

cocosainzyy55 @foryoutt16 An old interview of Oscar when he was still in F2 resurfaced and he was talking about his ideal type and the description he gave matches nothing to his current girlfriend. People are suddenly bringing this up again, wondering why he didn't choose his ideal type.

foryoutt16 Oh damn that's rough...

The comments and likes flooded in, as they always did. Sometimes, I forgot that I was dating an F1 driver—it came with its own kind of spotlight.

But as I scrolled through the comments under my post, a few things caught my attention.

One comment in particular stood out: something about an old interview of Oscar.

Confused and curious, I decided to look it up. Little did I know, I was about to regret it...

My stomach twisted into knots as I watched the video, realization sinking in. Oscar described his ideal woman, and her characteristics were unlike ones I possessed. I felt a wave of insecurities and doubts wash over me, each word a reminder of how I didn't fit the bill for his ideal partner.

My heart sank with every word he spoke, describing his ideal woman's qualities - and every one felt like another reminder of how far off the mark I was.

I couldn't help but wonder, "Why did he choose me?" His words stung, and I questioned whether he settled for less than his ideal because he didn't have better options.

On cue, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, Oscar returned home and called out my name. His voice echoed through the hallway, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. I hesitated, a mix of fear and confusion gripping me, as I debated whether to face him with this newfound knowledge.

He entered the room with a warm smile, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. He greeted me with a gentle kiss on the forehead before starting to speak in sweet words.

"Hey babe, how was your day?" he asked, completely unaware of the recent discovery I made.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside as I replied, "It was fine," my voice trying to mask the disappointment and insecurity that bubbled up.

The words left my lips, sounding hollow compared to the usual warmth in my tone.

Oscar sensed the hint of falsity in my fake smile. His observant nature picked up on the subtle cues of my distress, and he recognized that something was off. Yet, instead of immediately asking about it, he chose to hold off, observing to see if I would bring it up.

Oscar wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. He kissed my temple gently, his touch providing a temporary sense of comfort.

He knew something was bothering me and chose not to press, offering a moment of respite instead. "Do you want takeout?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

I replied softly, trying to match his tenderness, "Sounds good." Despite my conflicting emotions, I didn't want to dampen the mood by revealing my insecurities.

"Takeout sounds great," I said, attempting to sound cheerful.

Oscar reluctantly let go of me, reaching for the phone to place the takeout order. In his absence, I seized the opportunity to sneak a look in the mirror, as well as to search for pictures of Oscar's ideal type.

I scoured the internet, comparing every aspect of my appearance to the images of his ideal woman. The comparison fueled my insecurities, amplifying the feeling of not measuring up.

My tears threatened to spill as I stood there, comparing myself to Oscar's ideal, but before they could, I heard Oscar's voice calling out.

"Y/n baby, the food will be here in twenty minutes," he informed me. I swiftly wiped away the tears before responding, attempting to hide the vulnerability in my voice, "Okay, thanks for letting me know."

Splashing my face with water to compose myself, hoping to hide any traces of my tears and distress. With determination, I dried my face and returned to the room where Oscar was, trying to mask my vulnerability.

After the food came, we ate together. I was quiet, it was mainly Oscar talking which was odd because normally it was always me talking and he would listen. We were currently cuddled up together after eating

Despite our cozy cuddle on the couch, my mind was preoccupied with worries. Thoughts like "What if he leaves me?" and "What if I'm not good enough?" consumed me.

Oscar noticed my distraction and asked if I was alright, concern in his voice. I replied, "Just tired," and although he didn't fully believe it, he decided not to push further.

Oscar spoke up once more, his voice soft and reassuring. "Y/n?" he began, his eyes searching mine.

"You know I love you, right? If there's anything bothering you, you know you can tell me," he emphasized, his tone filled with patience and support.

I nodded, attempting to hide the depth of my worries and insecurities. "Yeah, I know. I love you too," I responded, trying to sound reassuring.

The words felt heavy, knowing the weight of my unspoken fears.

A few weeks had passed since that moment of insecurity, and I had been avoiding Oscar, even though we lived together. I had made excuses to skip every Grand Prix , claiming I was too busy with work.

Yet, here I was, facing the mirror on the morning of a home race, feeling utterly unprepared. The interview weighed heavily on my mind, and I wasn't in the right state to face it.

Standing in front of my reflection, I looked at myself, thoughts of my inadequacy resurfacing.

Oscar entered the room, his gaze settling on me. He positioned himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head.

His presence brought both comfort and nerves as I stood in front of the mirror, still grappling with my insecurities.

He spoke softly, his compliment genuine and sweet. "I didn't know it was possible to be this pretty. You look amazing love," he murmured, his voice filled with affection.

I stepped away from him, the compliment not offering the comfort it usually would. My actions were distant, as if I was subconsciously putting up a barrier.

"Thanks," I responded distantly, my tone devoid of the warmth that usually accompanied my words.

The fear of his departure and my sense of inadequacy still lingered in my heart, casting a shadow over the moment.

Oscar seemed puzzled by my distant behavior, his confusion evident. Seeing right through my attempt to avoid him, he asked gently,

"Baby, did I do something wrong? Why are you avoiding me?"

His voice was tinged with concern, his eyes filled with hurt at my distance.

I quickly responded, trying to change the subject. "No, you did nothing wrong. Uhm, shouldn't you leave for the race?"

Oscar looked at me, his gaze lingering on me before reluctantly letting it go.

"Wait, weren't you coming with me?" he questioned, his tone hinting at his confusion.

I responded with a slightly busted attitude, "Oh, uhm, I'm not done getting ready yet. I'll come later, though."

It was a lie, and Oscar seemed to sense that something was off.

Despite the passing time, he decided to focus on his own preparations while stealing a moment to kiss my forehead before leaving.

I took a moment to muster my courage, realizing that Oscar didn't deserve being pushed away because of my insecurities.

With a deep breath, I prepared myself to face the day and attend the race, pushing through the weight of my doubts.

As the hours flew by, I found myself standing in the garage, watching from afar, torn between my worries and the desire to support him.

After awhile I decided to go to the restroom since I still had some time before the race started.

As I was walking, I heard voices behind me, and my name being mentioned caught my attention.

I stopped to listen—not that I meant to eavesdrop, but hearing my name made it impossible not to.

From what I could tell, these girls were likely McLaren fangirls. Well duh after all, they were dressed in papaya colors.

Girl 1: "It's crazy that Oscar is still dating y/n. She doesn't even fit his ideal type."

Girl 2: "I know, right? Like, she's not even close."

Girl 3: "Yeah, he must be leading her on or something."

Girl 4: "Or maybe she's in it for the fame and money."

Girl 5: "Oh, definitely. There's no other reason she would be with him."

The girls' laughter echoed in my ears, each comment like a punch to my heart.

Girl 2: "Seriously, you'd think he could do better than her."

Girl 1: "Yeah, she's not even that attractive compared to the other girls he's dated before."

Girl 3: "I bet he'll realize soon that he could get someone way better."

Girl 4: "Well, if the fame and money aren't enough, then he's definitely settling."

I couldn't bear to listen any longer, my tears streaming as I fled to the restroom, seeking solace to hide my distress.

Time slipped away as I stayed there, isolated, wrestling with my tormenting thoughts and self-doubts.

Meanwhile, the McLaren garage buzzed with pre-race energy, but Oscar couldn’t focus. His eyes darted around the paddock, scanning for any sign of you.

Anxiety churned in his gut as he spotted his teammate leaning casually against a workbench.

“Lando!” Oscar called, walking over briskly.

Lando glanced up, eyebrows raised. “What’s up, mate?”

Oscar hesitated before blurting out, “Have you seen Y/N anywhere?”

Lando frowned, clearly puzzled. “No, mate, haven’t seen her. Matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve seen her around for the last few races. Is everything okay?”

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, mate. She’s been so distant lately, and I have no idea what I’ve done to upset her.”

Lando’s expression softened, a mix of pity and thoughtfulness. “Could it maybe have to do with that video that went viral again?”

Oscar blinked, confused. “What video? That old F2 interview of mine? That was years ago! I was just joking in most of it anyway.”

Lando shrugged, giving him a pointed look. “Mate, you might want to check the comments under her recent Instagram post. I think that’s your answer.”

With a sympathetic pat on the back, Lando turned and walked off, leaving Oscar alone with his thoughts.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers quickly navigating to your profile. The comments under your latest post hit him like a brick.

“Oh no,” Oscar muttered, his stomach sinking. “No wonder she’s been distant…”

He mentally kicked himself, remembering that dumb interview where he’d been too cocky for his own good.

“I didn’t even mean half the stuff I said,” he whispered to himself, cringing at the memory.

Before he could search for you and explain himself, a crew member called his name, dragging him toward the car for pre-race preparations.

“Great timing,” he muttered under his breath. But he made a promise to himself: as soon as this race was over, he’d find you and make things right.

Meanwhile, back to you, the restroom break had taken longer than expected. The initial plan to kill time before the race started had backfired; now, a dull ache was forming in my head, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease creeping up on me.

I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, but the discomfort wasn’t going away.

Deciding it was best not to push myself, I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message to Oscar:

Not feeling great. Heading back home. Don’t worry about me.

I hesitated before hitting send. He’d probably be confused or even concerned, but the last thing I wanted was to worry him.

With a sigh, I hit send and slipped my phone back into my bag.

As I stepped out of the restroom and headed for the exit, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

On the way, I also let Oscar's manager know I left, just in case he didn't check his phone.

I knew Oscar would notice my absence, but today, it felt easier to retreat than to stay and face everything swirling in my mind.

Little did I know, Oscar was already worrying.

The race had ended, with Oscar clinching a solid P4, just behind Lando. Though pleased with his result, his mind was elsewhere.

He wanted nothing more than to see you, to feel your arms around him, and hear you tell him how proud you were—just like old times.

But as he scanned the crowd, his hope began to waver. You weren’t there.

His manager noticed Oscar’s distracted gaze and approached him. “Looking for Y/N?” the manager asked gently.

“She left you a message. Said she wasn’t feeling well and headed home.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, his heart sinking. You hadn’t told him the truth.

A mix of frustration and hurt bubbled to the surface. Without a word, he decided to skip the team celebrations and headed straight home.

When Oscar arrived, he didn’t waste a second. Dropping his bag by the door, he called out loudly—his voice sharper than usual.

“Y/N!”

You were downstairs in no time, a soft smile on your face.

“Oh, hey, Osc! You’re back early. How was the race?” I asked sweetly, trying to act normal.

But Oscar wasn’t having it. His expression was hard as he stared at you.

“You would’ve known if you didn’t leave,” he said, his voice laced with frustration.

Guilt washed over me, and you stammered, “I’m sorry, Osc. I wasn’t feeling well—”

“Cut the crap, Y/N!” he interrupted, startling you. His voice was raised, something he rarely did.

“When are you going to finally admit the real reason you’ve been like this? Tell me! I’m sick of it!”

I flinched but couldn’t blame him. He deserved an explanation. At the same time, I’d had enough, too. My emotions spilled out, my voice breaking.

“How would you feel if people kept telling you that your partner is too good for you? That you’re not good enough, that you’re too ugly, not their type, only with them for the money?!”

Tears streamed down my face as you continued.

“And yes, it’s about that stupid interview of yours! I can’t help it, okay? Call me dumb, call me a crybaby, but this is too much!”

By now, I was full-on sobbing, unable to meet his gaze. But before I could crumble further, I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me close.

His voice was soft now, gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me, baby? I could’ve helped. We’re a team, remember?”

I sniffled, my voice trembling as I replied, “Those were your words, Oscar. I can’t take them back or change them.”

He sighed, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. “Babe, that interview was years ago. I was joking around the entire time. If you’d watched the whole thing, you’d see that.”

I shook my head, unsure, but he leaned back just enough to look at me.

“Since when is my favorite color pink?” he teased, a small laugh escaping him.

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh, too.

“That's better,” he said, smiling.

“Listen to me. Everything I said in that interview wasn’t true. I was 18, tired, and didn’t even want to be there. I was just trolling to get it over with.”

I laughed again at his confession, finally meeting his eyes.

“There’s that pretty smile,” he said, his tone softer now. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, but next time, talk to me, okay?”

I nodded, wiping your tears. “I will. I’m sorry for doubting you… for pushing you away.”

He smiled warmly, leaning in to peck your lips a few times.

“It’s okay, love. I get why you did it. But don’t you ever doubt yourself again, yeah? You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. If anyone doesn’t deserve someone, it’s me. How did I get so lucky, huh?”

He cupped your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek before pulling you into a long, passionate kiss. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“Don’t you ever doubt yourself,” he whispered. “You’re my ideal type. Always.”

I laughed softly. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

Suddenly, Oscar scooped me up into his arms, bridal style, making me squeal.

“Osc! What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”

He grinned, shaking his head as he headed toward the bedroom.

“Nope. Let me show my gorgeous girl how much I love her.”

And let’s just say, the night ended perfectly. From that moment on, I never doubted his love for me ever again.

oscarpiastri posted on Instagram!

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oscarpiastri An amazing race to finish off the week. A big thank you to the entire team and the fans. Also a big thank you to my beautiful girlfriend for being the best support.

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yourusername So so proud of you Osc!!! Love you! 🩷

oscarpiastri Love you too pretty!

landonorris Well done mate 🙌 extra support is always great!

oscarpiastri Thanks man! You're right especially if she's just my type 😉

yourusername 🤭 ❤️ by author

lalalandnorris4you Oscar really gagged all of you haters purr 💅

frvrformulaonestan1 This is the cutest thing ever brb I'm going to cry 🥹

notyourfan481 Bro Oscar you don't have to lie we all know this ain't you

osclvy/n Girl stfu he isn't going to notice you ffs 🙄

lovelypeachlan4 You thought you did sum? Get out 👉🚪

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yourusername A little recap of last week 🤍

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yourbffuser Looking like a snack 😋😍🥵

yourusername Love ya 💋🫦

oscarpiastri Gorgeous 😍

yourusername Love youu Osc 🥰

alexandrasaintmleux So so so pretty 😘

yourusername Says you beautiful 😉💕

lv4motorsports81 She's so pretty omd

manyyynorriz She's gorgeous, don't know what people were on about 🤨

banananorrispiastry81 🤢

nothingthelessnorris4 And you did this for what ☠️

piastrybakerlvr Move on he isn't going to notice you 🥱

lvlynorrisss4 Yet your comment didn't make any change to this world... Grow up 🤦‍♀️

The end

[nyankochan]

Pomegranate Seeds

Synopsis: Idia is terrified of you but after you guys accidentally end up in a “compromising” position, he realizes how much he enjoys your touch

Content: Idia x Cerberus!gn!reader, reader is a beast man, sub!idia, oral (male receiving), pre-ejaculation, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, sorry if Idia seems a bit OOC

W/c: 2.5k

Idia is avoiding you as much as possible.

First off: you terrified him. He couldn't figure out why a canine hybrid as yourself wasn't sorted into Savanaclaw like most beastmen but the mirror chose Ignihyde. You may be shorter than he was but you were definitely stronger and faster. And your acute sense of smell made it damn near impossible for him to hide from you.

Second: you were like a hyperactive puppy that required attention all the time. You'd come into his dorm when he was skipping out on his Housewarden duties and dragged him out of the confines of his room to take him on your many adventures. Don't let him try to escape or else you'd hunt him down. And let's not forget how you'd take it upon yourself to crash in his bed when you have a perfectly good room of your own.

Granted, Idia stayed up half the night gaming, but it was annoying finding your hair in his blankets!

Third: you never took the hint to go away! Idia was much too shy to directly tell you to screw off, so whenever he tried to make an excuse, you always managed to find a way to stay around. It's like you were glued to his hip whenever possible and he couldn't stand it.

He felt bad for doing it, but many times he pushed you off to Ortho. His poor brother didn't really understand, but you seemed to enjoy the younger Shroud's presence. You often coddled him cause of how cute he was and since he reminded you of your younger siblings from back home. And you two often played games together, racing to see who was faster, or making a mess baking in the kitchen.

Ortho couldn't quite compute the issue with you. You were sweet and caring. Sure, you could be a bit rough at times with the affection. But overall you were fun to be around. So he couldn't figure out why Idia didn't like you.

"Ortho!" You announce your presence as you kick open the boy's dorm door. Your tail wags excitedly as you proudly show off the object in your hand. "Look! Look! We got pomegranates in botany! They're so sweet and tasty!"

"Ohh! I've never had one before!" Ortho muses.

"You haven't?" You ask as you munch on the soft fruit. The blue haired boy shakes his head.

"I don't think they grow on the Island of Woe. It's pretty secluded."

"Oh? That sucks." You hand one of the extra fruits you took to Ortho. "Here! You can have one of mine." Crewel was less than thrilled when you ran off with a batch of them, refusing to share with anyone else. And when someone tried to take one, you growled at them. Poor Ace almost got his hand bitten off by his greedy upperclassman.

"Thank you!" Ortho then paused. An idea then came to him on how to get his brother to like you. "You know, I think my brother really likes pomegranate. You should give him one."

"He does? Hm, i guess I can share one more." You really didn't want to give away your snacks but for Idia you could make an exception.

"Brother should be in his room," Ortho says with a giggle. "He'll definitely be happy with your gift."

_______

Game over flashed in bright red letters on the screen. Idia groaned in annoyance and threw his controller on to the bed.

"This level is so stupidly hard. Do they not want anyone to beat it?" He had been playing this particular game for hours. A new release in a franchise he enjoyed, but compared to previous versions, this one seemed unnecessarily difficult. Sometimes stupidly so. Idia prided himself on being a bit of a game pro, so being bested by a mere level was irritating him more than he would like to admit.

"One more time. After this, I'm going to look through the online servers for a cheat," Idia told himself, picking up the controller. But before he could restart, his dorm door was kicked open.

"Ids!"

The long haired male pales. His body tenses when you nearly tackle him out of his gaming chair in a hug. "Y-Y/n-ssi-"

"Ids look! We got pomegranates today in class! Crewel let me take extra. Have you ever had one? Ortho said they were your favorite! They're super sweet! Fun fact did you know pomegranate shows up in a myth similar to that of the God of the Underworld?"

You continue to ramble on, obvious to Idia's increasingly flustered expression. The ends of his hair slowly turn bright pink to match his cheeks. You were sitting on his lap.

Idia tried to focus his attention anywhere else. The posters on his wall. His computer screen. Anywhere else to keep his mind off the way you pressed against his crotch while you animatedly talked. And as much as he tried to suppress it, he could feel his pants begin to tighten as an erection formed.

"No no no no this cannot be happening," Idia internally panicked. "I was not expecting to handle a boss of this difficulty. Ah, what do I do!?"

"Hey, Idia," you whine, pouting when you realize he's not paying attention to you. "Are you listening to me? Stop ignoring me."

"S-sorry!" Idia stammers, closing his eyes. You stare at him curiously, tilting your head to the side like a puppy. Your ears twitch. A sweet scent fills your nose that makes your tail wag.

Suddenly, You lean in until you're practically in his face, Idia's pale skin blossoming bright red as he flinches. You press your nose agains the crook of his neck. The sweet smell is coming from him.

"Y-Y/n..." Idia is paralyzed in his place. For some reason, you're on his lap, pressing against his raging boner, all while sniffing him as if he smelled. How was he supposed to proceed? What did one even do in this situation? He was too scared to push you off in case you took offense, but he was going to be even more mortified when you realized he had gotten hard. Sevens he didn't want you to think he was a creep.

"You smell...good," you sigh. "Really good. Like pomegranate." Your senses were going in overdrive. All you could focus on was Idia's scent and taking in more of it.

"Y/n w-wait a minute!" Idia finally finds his voice to speak. You pause and it finally hits you. What you're doing. The position you're in. Your own face blossoms red.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. You just-" He just smelled so good and you couldn't figure out why. It made your heart race and heat pool between your legs. And the aching desire to taste just to sedate the growing hunger was just as intense.

"Y/n," Idia's voice came out shaky. A borderline moan that he's embarrassed even came out. "p-please s-stop moving." His hands grip your hips. You had been steadily rocking against him. Now his erection pressing uncomfortably against his pants, which you for sure felt.

Your heart hammers against your chest from nervous excitement. This was a good sign right? That meant he felt something too, right? Idia wasn't a beast man, so some of the natural reactions (ears twitching, tail wagging, etc.) that you were accustomed to, he didn't have or do. So it was difficult to gauge interest. But this, this was a common reaction regardless of species.

You press against him harder. In response, Idia lets out a whimper, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

"Idia," you say gently. "C-can I please touch you more."

"H-huh?!"

"Y-you just smell so good. And it's driving me crazy. I'll stop if you're uncomfortable. Please?"

You give him near irresistible puppy dog eyes. Idia swallows back his nerves and gives a slight nod. He could handle this. It was just another boss level to conquer. He could totally handle it-"ahhh s-shit-" Idia's body jerks as your cold fingers feel up his shirt. Your claws tracing his smooth skin.

You press your nose against his chest, inhaling deeply before letting out a shaky breath of content. You continue lower and lower, continuing to feel him up with your fluttering touch until Your hands brush over his crotch. Idia immediately grabs your wrist, hair burning pink.

"I...I..."

You tilt your head. "Do you want me to stop now?"

Idia swallowed. Yes. No. Yes! No!

"Can you go slow?"

You nod. Then scoot from his lap to the floor. Idia gulped, his heart thrumming against his chest in anticipation. He don't know what has come over him. How did things progress his far where he'd have you, settled between his legs just barely underneath his pc, staring up at him with innocent eyes as if your touch hasn't been fucking with him the past ten minutes. Naturally, every gamer probably imagines getting head from their partner under the desk while they play a game, but Idia didn't think it would actually happen to him! No amount of dirty manga and mature video games could have prepared him to react IRL.

"You smell good here too," you sigh constantly, ears twitching. You untie the drawstring of his sweats, pull the waistband down his hips, and reveal his dark blue boxers. There's a large bulge at the crotch, holding up the fabric along with a large wet stain. "Ids?"

Idia could die right there and then. He had already came. Just from you touching him!

"I'm sorry!" Idia covers his face but his hair betrays his flusteredness, a blaze of pink. "I-I didn't mean to. J-just."

You grab his hand, pulling it away from his face. A soft smile spreads across your features. "It's okay. Can I clean you up?"

Not really knowing what you meant, Idia nods nonetheless. You’re careful when you pull back his boxers. Inside's a sticky mess of white. It coats his cock that's long and thick. More pearls from the tip that's a bright red. The cool air making him twitch.

You start at the base near his heavy balls, licking up the side until you reach the top. Idia tenses, shaky moans leaving his blue lips as you continue to work your way up and down his cock. Your tongue feels rough. But he doesn't hate the feeling and tries hard not to buck up into your face. Idia could feel his stomach coiling but he didn't want to come again yet. Not so soon.

"You taste good," you moan. Your thighs press together, heat pooling in between them. And no matter what you do, more beads of pre leak out, leaving more for you to clean up. As you take Idia's cock back into your motive more, he lets out a louder moan this time. His fingers twitch, searching for something to grab on. And ultimately, his hands land on your ears. You're caught off guard by the sudden touch against your sensitive extremities and let out a squeak that catches both you and Idia off guard. And from the way his cock stiffens in your hand, Idia liked the sound of it.

"F-fuck I'm sorry!" Idia quickly apologizes. "I was just-"

"It's okay. It just surprised me," you say, bashfully. "You can touch them. But they're sensitive a bit."

Idia nods. Still with hesitation, he holds on to your hair to ground himself as you take him back into your mouth. His fingers trace the soft fur of your ears, making you moan. The vibrations leave Idia gasping.

"A-ah t-that f-feels good," he whimpers. Your tongue swirls around the tip before you take him deep again. Your cheeks hollowing to suck and slurp against his throbbing cock. When you pull back to do it again, Idia's hips buck up, and suddenly, he's coming down your throat.

"S-sorry!” Idia stammers. “I didn't meant to fuck it felt so good I couldn't help-"

Idia's head throws back as once again his cock hits the back of your throat. His hands tighten in your hair, and he whimpers out your name over and over again until it's the only thing he could event think of.

You're greedy. Trying to suck Idia dry to quell your own desire. You could feel yourself soaking down below, the budding anticipation making your stomach coil. Your grip on his thighs tightens.

"N-no no no wait," Idia begins to panic. He begins trying to push you away, but you don't budge. "Wait wait something isn't right. I-I'm gonna s-shoot again but it's different!"

Tears prickle against his eye lashes. This time the pressure feels too great. His balls constrict and his abs tense. He could feel his cock throb, as something was threatening to come out. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it back. Idia tugs at your hair harder.

"Y/n! Wait stop! I think I-i have to pee! Please! Fuck fuck fuck-" Idia cries out as he comes hard. His body jerks back into the chair, hips bucking up.

Hot, sticky release hits the back of your throat suddenly, and you're not prepared for the amount of cum Idia ejaculates. You pull back, sputtering into a cough. Idia is still coming, his release spraying into your face. He's a moaning mess. There's tears running down his cheeks. The overstimulation leaves him trembling.

You lick your lips and the side of your mouth, cleaning the cum off them. Needless to say you weren't expecting that, but it was so arousing, you almost wanted to see if you could make him do it again.

"Idia, are you okay?" You ask, standing to check on the male. You brush your thumbs across his cheeks to wipe the tears.

"I-I don't know what h-happened. It w-was too much b-but i-it felt so good. I-I'm sorry. I-" Idia babbles.

"It's okay, Idia," you assure, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "As long as you felt good."

Idia nods quickly. "R-really good. But I think I'm out of HP. I can't go again," he says, slumping back into his chair. He was quite frankly in the negatives. Even his cock had finally gone soft, but he still longed for your touch.

You remember then. The pomegranates. You had set them off to the side. Taking one of the fruits, you split it open, juice running down your fingers and you pull out the seeds. "Here," you offer to the blue haired male. "I'll be nice and share. Since it's technically my fault you're exhausted."

Idia stares blankly for a few seconds before taking the pomegranate seeds. They were sweet. And he couldn't help but wonder...His eyes trailed down the span of your body before his cheeks flushed at his dirty thoughts.

As mythology went, taking the pomegranate seeds bound two souls together. Would that mean the same for you two here on out?  You terrified Idia in a lot of ways, but at the same time, he couldn't deny the way your presence was starting to allure him. Just like the sweetness of the pomegranate seed.

[vaspider]

It would be a different kind of shitty, yes. This kind of shitty? It has its roots in John Calvin's philosophies. Without John Calvin, we would have a different kind of shitty, but this specific kind of shitty is very much due to the effects of Calvinism on the development and mindsets of cultures and countries where Protestant philosophies derived from Calvinism are pervasive.

How do I know? Well, aside from the fact that a bunch of very smart people have studied this for a very long time, we can directly trace the effects of Calvinism through history and watch those effects, and we can see the difference in mindset and history between Calvinism-primary Western countries and countries where Calvinism never took hold.

Nobody is in this thread saying that Calvinism is the only sole cause of all the world's ills. We are saying the specific type of awful that a bunch of us is in fact heavily Calvinist.

The only mistake in this part of the conversation is y'all confusing people talking about how culture affects people's mindsets with us thinking that the world would be super cool and everything would be fixed if he hadn't been born. It's kinda like:

Me: Have you ever wondered why so much of the mandatory pie that we get forced to eat in these particular places is apple pie and why the crust is always burned? Well, it's because of the Pie-Burning Apple Man. That's why lemon pie is more common in other places in Europe, for example. I really hate how the mandatory pie we all have to eat is like 90% of the time apple pie with a burned crust in the places that the Pie-Burning Apple Man's recipes took hold. People like me keep trying to eat more cake with little sugar dreidels on top, and people who like Pie-Burning Apple Man keep slapping it out of our hands. It sucks. We don't believe that you should have to eat burned pie now to get unburned pie later!

You: You can't blame the existence of forced pie consumption on Calvin. People would find a way to justify that.

Yeah, we fucking know, that's why we're only talking about why the pie is the pie from Pie-Burning Apple Man's recipe and how much we dislike that particular variety of mandatory pie.

It's pretty funny to have branches of this thread where Dutch ppl are chiming in with how much of their entire national character is formed by Calvinism, and Americans are breaking down how this affects their daily lives, and then over here...

Bruh.

Me, starting a video that says it's going to explain how Victorian poorhouses fucked up the concept of charity forever: ok, show me what you've got

Video: it starts with the ideas of the Christian philosopher --

Me: DON'T SAY IT DON'T FUCKING SAY IT

Video: -- John Calvin

Me:

[ladykailitha]

Soulmate AU

Soulmate AU where when you're ready to meet your soulmate, you start seeing them in your dreams.

Only Steve's got a problem.

The man in his dreams is ultra famous Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson.

There is no way any agent, manager, PA, or publicist worth their salt is going to let him anywhere near the man just because he says they're soulmates.

Steve isn't sure what to do, he can't afford to go to every concert hoping they make eye contact. Which is how you form a bond between between soulmates.

But luckily fate has other plans.

Steve goes to the Hideout to get drunk after a particular bad day. Robin met her soulmate, he got broken up with, and Max and Lucas announced they’re getting married.

And there he is, Eddie is hanging out at the bar with his bandmates.

Only now Steve has a problem in the form of three very beefy guys he assume is security.

But Eddie is over there freaking out in his own way.

Because yup! There's Steve Harrington but he didn't realize his dreams about Steve recently were about his soulmate because Eddie's been dreaming about Steve since high school

But now that he's in the same room with him Eddie realizes that the dreams of late have been...softer, lately.

Less spicy the way they are normally and more hazy like a filter had been placed over top.

Warm.

And so he walks over to Steve, because he knows he has to make the move.

And the instant they make eye contact it's like sparks, downing hot chocolate, and coming home all at once.

They knew of each other in high school but in that nebulous popular kid and the outspoken weird kid kind of way.

And the reason it took them so long to get together is that they both had to grow up past their high school prejudices.

It took Eddie the longest because despite his crush on Steve he was still worried about his appearance and what people would think if he had a preppy soulmate.

But recently he had eureka moment when Brian’s soulmate was platonic. That he just needed someone who would love him for all his flaws and weird moments.

Steve had been getting dreams about his soulmate since high school, but they were never clear. They started getting into sharper focus recently and was shocked when it was revealed to be Eddie. Not because it was boy, but because of the whole famous thing.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry) 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

She wasn't fine. Colette was so far from fine that it wasn't even funny anymore.

And now her twin brother had decided to chime in with his own opinions, pouring oil into the fire. 

The thought of the media dissecting every word, every gesture, every expression was unbearable. And still, she couldn't stop herself from doomscrolling.

Colette was in a state of constant anxiety, unable to stop herself from scrolling through social media and the news articles. She knew it wasn't helping her, that it was only adding to her stress, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the screen.

Every article, every comment, every thread seemed to only add to her worry. The criticism, the speculation, the accusations...it was all too much. But she couldn't look away or stop herself from reading every word, no matter how much it hurt.

She was stuck in a vicious, spiralling cycle, seeking out the information, even though she knew it was bad for her. 

The hormones and the pregnancy symptoms didn't make it any better either. 

The hormones made her emotions more intense, her anxiety more pronounced, and the pregnancy symptoms only added to the stress and discomfort. She wanted desperately for it to end, but it seemed like it would never stop.

The worst of it all was the constant swirl of thoughts in her head. The worry and fear, the relentless stream of "what-if" scenarios.

And the most terrifying thought of all: what if her stress was hurting the baby? The idea that her anxiety could harm the little life growing inside her was a constant one, always at the front of her mind.

“Eat, Choupinette,” her mother insisted. Colette stared down at her plate. Porridge and fruit and whatever else was supposed to be good for her these days. 

But her appetite was nonexistent. The weight of everything that was happening, the thoughts and fears that were running through her mind...it made it difficult to even think about food.

"Eat, Choupinette," her mother insisted again, clearly concerned. "You need to eat something, for the baby's sake. You're too pale."

“I am..”

“You aren’t fine,” her mother cut her off with a disbelieving snort. "You're pale, you haven't been eating properly, and you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"And don't even try to tell me that the pregnancy is doing that," her mother added, her tone firm. "I had three pregnancies, I know how tiring it is. This isn't just normal exhaustion."

Colette knew that her mother was right. The pregnancy, while exhausting, wasn’t the reason. It was the anxiety, the worry, the stress...it was all taking its toll on her.

But she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it. The situation was out of her control, even if it was affecting her directly.

It was her own fault why she was in this situation to begin with. 

“I was so stupid.” Colette's shoulders slumped as she muttered under her breath. Her mother shook her head, disagreeing with the assessment.

 "It wasn't the smartest thing," her mother admitted. "But the media is blowing it out of proportion. They're making an elephant out of a fly."

It was a sentiment that Colette wholeheartedly agreed with. But at the same time, she knew that the media was relentless in their pursuit of a story. 

And Colette’s and Max's relationship would be the juiciest scandal they had gotten their hands on in a long, long time.

“I don’t want this to fall back on Charles,” Colette whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

Her brother had worked so hard to be where he was, at the pinnacle of motorsport…to drive for the team he loved so much. 

She didn’t want to get Charles into any trouble. It wasn’t his fault. It was all on her. And any scandal, any whiff of controversy, could potentially ruin everything Charles had worked so hard for.

Her mother's words were calm, but they hit hard. "Your brother is an adult," she repeated. "He can make his own decisions. And he was the one who decided he wanted to protect you. You didn’t force him to do anything, Choupinette."

Colette knew that her mother was right. Charles was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. But that didn't make her worry any less.

Her phone rang, her hand immediately shooting out for it. It was Max. Her hand was almost shaking as she answered the call.

"Maxie," she breathed, relief and worry mixing in her voice.

Max's voice was gentle, a soothing balm in the storm of chaos that was swirling around her. "Hey liefje," he repeated, the affectionate nickname rolling off his tongue.

Colette closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the sound of his voice.

"What are you up to?" Max inquired, his tone soft. 

"I'm having breakfast with Maman," she replied, glancing at her mother, who was watching her carefully.  

There was a moment of silence on the line, but she could almost picture Max's expression. He was no doubt worrying just as much as she was, if not more. "How are you doing?" he finally asked, his voice laced with concern. 

Colette let out a shaky sigh, her emotions warring inside her.

She wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him that she was fine. But Max and her had made themselves a promise ages ago. If there was one thing that Max hated, then it was lying. Even little white lies like this. They didn’t lie. They didn’t sugarcoat. They told the truth. Regardless of how hurtful it could be. 

They told each other the truth. Always. 

“Tired,” she answered weakly. 

"I heard you've been stalking social media again," Max's voice was dry, a hint of disapproval in his tone.

"Charles should really mind his own business," she bit back, her irritation at her twin brother evident. There was just one person that Max could have learnt that from. 

There was a pause, and she knew that Max was choosing his words carefully.  "He's just worried," he said finally. "We all are."

Colette huffed, her irritation at being coddled smouldering. "I don't need everyone to worry about me," she retorted, her tone snippier than she intended.

"We're not doing it to annoy you," Max replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're doing it because we care about you.  I'm worried about you, liefje."

Those words were like a knife through the heart. She could hear the worry and concern in his voice, and it made her feel guilty for being so snappy with him.

Sassy chose that moment to come to jump up on her lap and she petted the Bengal cat absent-mindedly as she made herself a home on Colette’s lap. 

"I know you are," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I just..." she trailed off, unsure of how to put her mixed feelings into words. Sassy purred softly. 

"It's okay," Max reassured her, his voice low and soothing. "I know it's hard. But please, try to take care of yourself. For me. For Bébé."

Colette felt the tears well up in her eyes again. She wanted to tell him that she was trying, that she was doing her best. But the words lodged in her throat, replaced by a thick lump of emotion.

"I'm trying," she managed to say, hating how weak and shaky her voice sounded.

"I know you are," Max murmured, his voice full of understanding. "But you need to rest, to eat. You're not doing yourself or the baby any favors by skipping meals and staying glued to your phone."

Colette knew he was right. The lack of food and sleep was taking its toll on her health and her baby. But the stress, and the worry, it made it hard to find an appetite or to switch off her brain.

"I know," she whispered, feeling helpless and frustrated. Max sighed softly on the other end of the line. 

"I wish I could be there," he said, the longing in his voice palpable.

"Me too," she whispered, her heart aching with the weight of their separation.

"I hate being apart during all of this," he mumbled, a rare show of vulnerability from him. "I should be there with you, taking care of you, protecting you from all this damn media noise."

Colette's eyes welled with tears again at his words. "You are taking care of me," she reassured him, her voice thick with emotion. "Just hearing your voice helps more than you know."

"It's not enough," he retorted, his voice firm again. "I should be there, not just talking with you over the phone. I should be able to hold you, to make sure you eat and sleep properly."

Colette could picture the fierce expression on his face, the set of his jaw. She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze, his desire to protect and care for her. But she could also hear the frustration and helplessness in his voice.

"Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "It's not your fault. You're doing everything you can."

Max let out another sigh, a sound full of frustration and helplessness. "It doesn't feel like it," he mumbled, his voice betraying his emotions. "I feel so useless here, stuck continents away while you're dealing with all of this alone."

Colette's heart ached at his words. She wanted to assure him that he wasn't useless, that his support through the phone and the occasional visit meant the world to her. But she also understood how powerless he felt, how useless he must feel, miles and miles away from her.

"You're not useless," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. "You're the only thing keeping me sane right now."

There was a pause on the line, and she could sense Max's turmoil on the other end. "I just wish I could do more," he said quietly. "I wish I could take all this away from you, the stress, the worry, the media. You shouldn't have to deal with all this alone."

Colette felt a fresh burst of tears at his words. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't Superman, that he couldn't fix everything, but she also knew that he would never accept that. Max was a doer, a problem solver. Watching her struggle from afar must be killing him.

"I'm not alone," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I have you. That's more than enough."

"It's not enough," he mumbled again, the stubborn set to his words making her smile despite herself. She could almost see the familiar stubborn pout on his face even from so far away. "I'm serious," he insisted, his voice firmer now. "I should be the one taking care of you and our baby, not just chatting on the phone."Colette let out a quiet sigh, a mix of amusement and frustration at Max's stubbornness. She loved that he cared so much, but at the same time, she didn't want him to feel guilty for something that was out of his control.

"Max," she said gently, trying to make him understand. "You do take care of us, even from miles away. Just knowing that you're there for me, that you love us, it means everything. We're a team, remember? We're in this together."

There was another silence on the line, and she could practically picture Max clenching his jaw. She knew that he wanted to protest, that he wanted to argue, to find a solution to make things right. But he also understood that there was nothing he could do right now but accept the situation.

Finally, he sighed, the sound a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Okay," he said quietly. "But promise me you'll try to eat and sleep properly. Promise me you'll take care of yourself and our baby."

Colette couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks at his concern. She could hear the love and worry in his voice, the desperate plea for her to take care of herself.

"I promise," she whispered, her voice wobbly but firm. "I'll take care of myself. For you, for Bébé. I promise."

She would even let go of the fact that she was pretty sure that her family were babysitting her. When her mother went home after breakfast, it didn't take too long for Arthur to show up, happily ignoring her pointing out that he actually had work to do and instead he joined her on the couch watching re-runs of The Real Housewives.

Colette rolled her eyes at Arthur's unashamed enjoyment of the reality TV show. He had always been a sucker for messy drama, and the housewives provided plenty of that.

"You are ridiculous," she mumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur retorted cheerfully, his eyes never leaving the screen. "You love this show and you know it."

"I do not," Colette protested, but it sounded halfhearted, even to her own ears.

Quite frankly, she would rather watch fake drama on TV than think about the one happening in real life to her.

Bébé decided at that moment to kick her in her ribs again and she grimaced.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked her immediately.

Colette let out a wince as the baby kicked her again. "Yeah, just baby kicking my ribs again. It's getting more and more frequent," she mumbled, rubbing the spot on her stomach where the baby had kicked.

Arthur chuckled. "The baby's probably just feeling cramped. They want more space," he teased.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," Colette replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe the baby's just getting impatient and wants to come out already," Arthur said with a shrug, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Don't even joke about that," Colette said, her tone serious. "I still have another month to go. He better stay in there until then.”

She still had around 4 weeks of pregnancy left. 

"Still thinking it's a boy?" Arthur asked her curious.

Colette nodded, her hand still resting on her stomach. "Yeah, I just have a feeling. Call it a mother's intuition," she said with a small smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes in amusement. "Or just wishful thinking," he teased her.  "Isn't Max convinced it's a girl?" 

Colette chuckled, thinking about Max's adamant belief that the baby was a girl. "Yeah, he is. He has ordered a bunch of dresses online," she said with a laugh. “And hairbows...so many hairbows…If it's a boy, I don't know what I'll do with all of them."

Arthur started laughing.

Colette shot him a playful glare. "Don't laugh at my predicament," she said, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Arthur couldn't help himself, bursting into another fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, it's just too funny picturing Max buying all those dresses and hairbows," he managed to say between chuckles. 

Her phone pinged again.  Colette huffed in irritation as Arthur picked up her phone before she could. "Hey, that's mine," she protested.

Arthur just shot her a cheeky grin. "Finders keepers," he teased, waving the phone just out of her reach. "Besides, no more doomscrolling for you," her younger brother told her seriously.

Colette rolled her eyes at his reprimand, but deep down, she knew he was right. "I wasn't doomscrolling," she mumbled petulantly, even though she knew it was a blatant lie.

"I just...People are making up opinions about me and my life and they don't know me," she said weakly. "That's why I don't even have a public Instagram in the first place, Arthur. I just want to live my life without worrying about what people are going to think..."

"What does it matter what they think?" Arthur asked her curiously.

Colette let out a frustrated sigh. "It shouldn't matter, I know it shouldn't," she said firmly. "But it does. Maybe it's human nature to care what other people think, I don't know."

She ran a hand through her hair tiredly. "I just don't want people to judge me, to make assumptions about my life and my decisions."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "I get it," he said softly. "It can be hard to block out the noise. But you have to remember that the only opinion that matters is your own."

Colette let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, tell that to the media," she mumbled, but there was no vitriol in her voice, just resignation.

Arthur huffed, shaking his head. "The media don't know what they're talking about. They just want the next big headline, the next scandal. They don't care about the truth."

Colette sighed, slumping back on the couch. "I just wish they'd leave me alone," she mumbled. "I just want to have my baby in peace."

Arthur patted her leg comfortingly. "Just focus on yourself and the baby," he said firmly. "Everything else is just background noise."

Colette nodded, taking a deep breath. He was right, of course. “They have this picture of me in their head, that’s very different from the actual person,” she said weakly. “And now they judge me for something that they don’t even know what it was, because it’s not public. They just take Russell’s word and run with it…”

Arthur's expression darkened as she vented. "I know," he said softly. "It's unfair and it sucks. But you can't let it get to you."

Colette sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I know. I know.”

"You don't owe anyone anything," Arthur said firmly. "You don't have to justify yourself to anyone. Max would say the same."

Colette smiled wryly at the mention of Max. She could almost hear his voice in her head, telling her the same thing.

She closed her eyes, picturing Max's face in her mind. He always knew what to say to keep her grounded, to keep her from spiralling into a dark pit of despair. She missed him, more than she thought was possible.

"I just wish Maxie was here," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion.

[verxca]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #02 ]

[ j. todd ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which jason is your next door neighbour.

✦ The first time you met Jason wasn’t out of high stakes - a dangerous situation - or from a friend of a friend. It was by pure will, and that stuck out to him. You’d come over to finally meet your new neighbour who’d moved into your small apartment complex, blushing slightly as a young man opened the door. There you were, standing with a small container of pasta in hand next to the hunk of a man you’d never met. All because you’d made some extra on accident.

“Thanks. This looks great.” He nods his head ever so slightly in gratitude.

✦ Jason notices how your shoulders relax as he takes the container— how cute you looked all nervous like that. Above all, he was just happy he didn’t come off as some shitty neighbour, fortified by the wide, gentle smile you ported while turning to wave goodnight.

✦ He sets the container onto his counter, picturing your face in his mind for a brief instant. It'd been a while since someone did something nice for Jason, just because. He wasn’t used to it.

✦ You’d crossed paths many times in the hallway, but what really sealed the deal was when your sink started to leak one random thursday evening. You couldn’t tell if it was minor or not, but you wanted to play it safe, knocking next-door. Who was Jason to deny a pretty girl, anyway? He accepts causally, though inside he’s beaming more than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, no sweat, let me grab my tools.”

✦ And only a couple minutes later, he was hunched under your kitchen cabinets— sleeves rolled up and everything. His hands work deftly, years of practice making the task almost second nature.

“Do you need a water, or anything? I have soda, too.”

“Oh- Yeah. Water would be perfect.”

✦ You tried desperately to hide your growing grin while reaching up for a glass, the whole situation particular. Jay stayed longer than he had to once the leak was actually repaired; a whole half hour to put into perspective. Maybe it was the way your eyes lit up when you smiled, or the way you seemed genuinely happy to have him over that made him give in. Or, maybe, it’d just been too fucking long since he’d had a normal conversation like this.

“Eh, I've been around for a bit," He says vaguely as you two were sharing, "Long enough to know my way around. And- to know that this place is a hell of a lot better than some of the other shitholes in the city."

He gestures to your apartment with his glass in hand, leaning against your counter. “Yeah, tell me about it… It’s small, but it works.” Jason points to the sink he had just finished fixing with a smirk, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

✦ Your smile just lit up around him, and that was when he knew you’d be the woman he’d marry.

✦ And then, the fateful night hit. Red Hood had come back home after beating up some prominent criminals near the side of an old port— covered in bruises and a small stab wound to the lower abdomen. His head wasn’t in the game, and the feverish lightning made it hard to concentrate. He reached for his apartment door, mask in hand. It was late; he knew nobody would be out roaming the halls at this hour.

✦ The handle didn’t budge, though, his black gloves gripping onto the metal more harshly.

“Fuck!”

✦ Jay yelled, banging his hand against his apartment door. This? Now? Could his night not get any fucking worse? He pauses, his expression not angry, but just sad. Tired. He looked defeated. Jason walked over to the left of him, pausing before knocking on your door.

“Jason? Oh my god- Are you-”

✦ The stab wound in his side was throbbing, and you could see some blood dripping down from his leg. He needed to get it cleaned before he passed out.

“Please.”

✦ You don’t waste anytime before helping him inside, placing your hand on his lower back. You always had your suspicions about the guy— but this? He had to be a vigilante! Crime was rampant in this area, anyway… You prayed he was on the good side of things.

✦ Jason was sitting on your toilet seat, shirt off, gaze completely averted down. He didn’t want you to see him like this; all fucked up and broken. But you didn’t run screaming, or turn away in disgust— Instead you rushed to help him. He didn’t understand. You diligently cleaned his wound with an antiseptic, own expression sour from how much you knew it had to be hurting him. Jay tried his best to hold still despite the stinging pain— grunting slightly.

“Shit…”

✦ You look up, only to notice he was already staring down at you in between his legs. Your heart skipped a number of beats.

“Can you tell me what happened?” You ask calmly, and Jason just couldn’t take it. Your soft hands - your sympathetic expression - your fucking voice. He was going to break, averting his gaze in the matter of a second before clearing his throat roughly.

“Just crossed through the bad side of town.”

✦ Once the wounds were cleaned, you bandaged them up with extra care. Jason’s gaze was fixed between your hands working at his cuts, up to your pretty face. Apart of him wanted to apologize for showing up all unannounced like this, but another part of him— a part that's been starved of kindness and compassion for far too long wanted nothing more than to let you take care of him. Nobody had ever before, at least not with such compassion as you carried.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this… I just didn’t know where else to go.”

✦ He explained his situation once you offered him a glass of water— how his apartment was locked. You don’t think twice before letting him stay the night.

✦ You handed him some old pyjama pants that were too big on you to sleep in, all the while his equipment sat in your bathtub for the time being. You didn’t waste your time before setting up the couch, too, even lighting a nice candle on the coffee table. Jason feels a warmth spread through his chest as you smile at him— it had nothing to do with the pain.

“Fuck- I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Oh, Jason- It’s my pleasure, really. If you need anything during the night, just come get me, yeah?”

✦ You close the blinds and shut off all the lights before tucking yourself back into bed. Holy… what a night! You couldn’t get the image of him out of your head, knowing he trusted you enough for this. All the while Jason fell asleep like a light for the first time in many years, all thanks to your gentle care.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ part 2 ?

[kiralamouse]

I mean. The reason I stopped trying to fully engage with the trolley problem? Is that I fundamentally can't believe that there are only two possible outcomes. Intellectually, I know that sometimes the possibilities are limited, and it's feasible that the only possible action to affect the outcome would be pulling a lever (or failing to do so). But trying to imagine the scenario, I just imagine myself desperately looking for a third possibility until it's too late. How do I know I can't go save that person? How do we know there's nothing else present to help the trolley stop, or flip it off the track by putting the lever in between? Only what I've been told by an unknown source that I haven't had time to verify.

And honestly, very few crises are so fast-moving that you can't take time to evaluate whether you've been appraised correctly of all the possibilities! How many cop shootings happen because the cop didn't see an alternative besides "shoot the suspect" and "risk everyone else"? How many of those shootings are valid cost/benefit analyses and how many are the result of fear and tunnel vision?

This isn't me changing the subject - it's similar to a longstanding version of the problem!

Suppose that a judge or magistrate is faced with rioters demanding that a culprit be found for a certain crime and threatening otherwise to take their own bloody revenge on a particular section of the community. The real culprit being unknown, the judge sees himself as able to prevent the bloodshed only by framing some innocent person and having him executed.

Abstracting away the emotional impact of bearing responsibility for a human death - that's a vital skill if you're in a position of peril, where everyone can't be saved, or enough power that (again) everyone can't be saved and some WILL suffer harm. But it's a skill I've never needed, and I've given up trying to develop it solely for the case of a hypothetical with an obvious intellectual answer. (I'd be open to trolley problem variants where the intellectual answer is tricky enough that just trying to figure it out would let me abstract everything away.)

The root of my frustration with a lot of trolley problem discourse is that 'What does it mean to act ethically in a world where shitty luck and the actions of strangers you'll never meet have left you without any purely good options?' is, like, possibly one of the most relevant and universally applicable questions moral philosophy might help answer.

Saying it's a bad question because it's the negligent trolley engineer's fault literally exactly misses the point - yes how to deal on a personal level with systems and infrastructure that designed without much care for human collateral damage is an incredibly useful thing to think about!

[olderthannetfic]

Ayyy, there seems to be a lot of older people among the regular commenters of this blog so I'm gonna shoot my shot and ask for advice.

Idk if it's just the clinical depression but I can't help but feel like I'm never gonna find love as a straight girl. I don't hate men at all -- I've been very lucky to be surrounded by decent dudes growing up but shit. Lookin at the state of the world rn... Gen Z dudes chugging misogynist bullshit at alarming rates, women like Gisele Pelicot going through unspeakable shit from their own husbands... it's hard not to feel cynical. On top of that the decent dudes I know irl are all taken, I don't wanna go on dating apps, and as much as I wanna fuck an older man no decent one is gonna settle for a depressed young woman who's a 4 at best...

It's not that i don't have fulfilling friendships or that I don't value them, I just want to love and care for (and get dicked down by) a decent guy who feels the same way. I've always wanted that and I don't think it's changing anytime soon. Feels impossible though. I'm not sure if I'm the problem (I'm plain faced at best, no fashion sense or charm to speak of, though I do my best to be polite and kind) or there's just shit going on I've no control over.

--

People will give you a lot of placating nonsense, but the reality is that the supply of reasonably okay straight women is much higher than the supply of reasonably okay straight men. Finding a fulfilling long-term relationship is always hard anyway, but man... straight guys really need to step it up.

That said, a lot of people in general and straight guys in particular learn a lot from the breakdown of their first marriage/long-term relationship. Just because a guy is listening to godawful manosphere podcasts today doesn't mean he's never going to be dateable later.

Research on dating apps suggests that your average guy responds to pics where women have a lot of makeup on by looking for a hookup, passes by the ones with no makeup, and finds the ones with a little lipstick or something but not heavy makeup the most dateable.

While it would be nice if appearance didn't matter, if you're really worried about this, there are some basic things you can do where you'll get a lot of bang for your buck: Find one lipstick you can stand and learn to apply it. I like Bésame Cosmetics because I am a nerd and they sponsored a local film noir festival. Peggy Carter's lipstick was from them. They have the advantage of being intensely pigmented, so a quick swipe gives full coverage. I hate having shit on my face in general, so that's helpful. If eye stuff is less bleurgghhhh than lip stuff, learn to apply eyeliner instead. There are some liquid ones I really like even if it takes some practice to get decent at painting them on. You don't need a full face of makeup or really much of anything to read as Hot Girl™ to people who don't know anything about makeup and aren't paying much attention. Yes, even if you're a 4 and it's not just the depression talking.

Charm is hard. Some things can be taught, but a lot of that's innate. Fashion, however, is not. You don't need to be a fashionista to look better than a lot of the people around you. Save your money for fewer, better outfits. Buy things that fit well and get things tailored. Don't settle for ill-fitting clothes that don't make you feel good. Look for natural fibers and clothing that will last a long time. (And if you think you have sensitive skin that cannot handle natural fibers, you need to go up several price points on your cotton. Just saying.)

You can also increase your chances by doing activities where you meet more people who might be a good match. This means finding hobbies that actually have straight guys in them and going to in-person things where you meet new people. (This sounds obvious and pedantic, but I cannot tell you how many women I know who want a boyfriend but only do social things that are 95% women and 5% gay men.)

But the biggest thing you can do to stand out is... well... work on that depression. Self confidence and obviously being in a good place in your life are very attractive. Also, the good catches who haven't been snapped up tend to be the quiet, shy people. If you have your own shit together enough to detect and pursue them, you have a better chance of finding someone great.

I get that ~fix your depression~ is not helpful advice, but working on yourself in both important and relatively superficial ways is something you can control. Meeting the right person is not.

It might help to look at this as a 5-10-year goal and/or a lifetime goal, not a "Oh my god, my life sucks this year" problem. Yes, there's shit going on that you have no control over, but if that's your career and mental health and so on, you can work on that and be in a different place in a few years.

Frankly, I think a certain amount of cynicism is warranted, but that doesn't mean there are no decent guys or that you'll never find one.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Be for real Miss Vanta. Kyle should have clocked the tea the second that man was wearing a tapered fade and should have been asking genuine questions by the time the gold chain showed up lmfao

The implications of Price knowing about Boo Boo the fool means she would have been brought out of character by him at least once and he learned a hard lesson

You know how people who date pick up each other mannerisms? IDK 🤷🏾‍♀️ Daddy Price slowly becoming Zaddy Price is a reality. More adventures of the Black Wife Effect under the cut.

I'm legally obligated to post some cute fluff because I'm about to post absolute filth later on.

Rating: Gen Audience

Kyle feels like he is in the twilight zone. He's known about Price and his girlfriend for a few weeks now, and everything is in perspective. But what he can't get over are the little conversations he over hears when John takes a private call off to the side.

"Love, I'm not sure what 613 hair is but I do know you look okay in it." Price says quietly.

The team is taking a brief break between meetings and training. And Kyle is gobsmacked over hearing the term 613 hair come from him. He's even more shocked because after a small silence Price says

"Yes dear, I'm sure your foot will stay on their necks...mhm." He sounds like he's trying to calm her down and placate her. There's a love struck look in his eyes. The man is smitten. There's more silence before Price furrows his brow. "Sure Love, I'll be sure to pick up dinner on the way home....I forgot to take the chicken out on the way out the door, I don't mind."

Johnny is laughing because he thinks it's cute that Cap has a bird at home and he's wrapped around her finger. Simon is more interested in how he could get a pretty bird of that particular variety of his own.

Kyle is still stuck on what he's hearing...because what is going on?!?! And to make matters worse, Price hangs up the phone and sorta glances at Kyle. There's a question in the air, Kyle can feel it.

"Gaz...what does crash out mean and should I be worried?" He asks.

Kyle is suddenly getting whiplash.

[madamechrissy]

✨️Feels like Stardust, Floating all around Us✨️

✨️The five times Suguru tried to confess his feelings, and the one that worked ✨️

✨️Pairings - Suguru Geto x F!reader

✨️Summary - It’s New Years Eve, and Suguru is at a huge party in the city, with Satoru, Nanami and Shoko, but his mind goes to the girl who moved to France right after your Freshman year of College ended. The girl he never got the courage to tell his feelings to, despite knowing her most of his life. You. When you return from abroad, looking even more beautiful than he remembered, he wonders if he can finally tell you how he really feels, and get your kiss at Midnight. (Or every night) Watch as Suguru tries to confess his feelings from Elementary, Middle, High school and College, while not knowing you felt the same.

✨️CW - MDNI- explicit, 18+ only! Very emotional, light angst, cute fluff, and smutty!! Mutual pining, same format of Duvet Days and Vanilla Ice Cream (Satoru’s 5+1 !!) If you enjoyed that storytelling format, you’ll enjoy this one! (Same world as this too) friends/idiots to lovers. Will be NSFW at the end, there is oral (f recieving), dirty talk, mating press, rough sex, creampie, the rest of the story also has suggestive, fingering, teasing, edging. -Word count- 16.2k- oneshot long af lol, just trust meee <3

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoy!! -(divider by @strangergraphics - banner made by me)

It’s New Year's Eve, and you’re so nervous to see your old friends again, especially one friend in particular, Suguru Geto. As the cool air makes you shiver a bit in your dress, you wrap your light suede jacket around you just a little tighter, stepping up to what you remember as Satoru Gojo’s house, opulent and extravagant, the perfect place for a party really.

You take a little breath, looking up at the clear night sky, knowing soon it would be smokey with fireworks, and you can’t help but remember all the times you’ve been here. Particular parties, or study sessions, with all of your best friends, who had clearly stayed close, you wonder will you still fit in? You also wonder, will you look good to a particular dark haired man.

Shaking it off, you psych yourself up, you’ve done your hair, your makeup, you’ve got this gold glitter all over your skin, and a gorgeous little gold dress. You wracked over ideas over and over, wanting it to be so perfect, wanting to make sure that you could maybe get noticed by him in a different way, in the way you’ve always wanted, but have never really said.

You finally, after minutes of standing and contemplating it, knock on the door, you can feel the music reverberating, and it blares when Satoru Gojo opens the door. When you see Satoru’s smiling face and pretty blue eyes you can’t help but smile. He says your name and yanks you in practically, pulling you in for a big hug, you giggle and hug him back.

“Satoru!” He pops a kiss on your head now.

“Oh my god, you’re back for good!?” You nod then, smiling.

“Croissants and wine are great, but I missed home for sure. Satoru, you're squeezing me to death!”

“Sorry, sweets. Just missed your face.”

“You’re hogging her.” Shoko says, you grin so big again, as she pulls you in for a tight hug, you both kiss each other’s cheeks. “You came home, huh?”

“Finally! Oh, Nanami!” He smiles a tired little smile, holding a strong arm out, you hug him tightly, his hand on your head gently.

“You came back to this shithole?” You snort, pulling back and shaking your head at him, leaning up to ruffle his sandy blond locks, much to his displeasure.

“Came back to torture you, Kento.” He rolls his hazel eyes, then you pause when you see him across the room, he stops right in his tracks, his lips parted just so, a pack of cigarettes in one hand as if he was about to step out. But he doesn’t move, not an inch, and neither do you then.

“He didn’t know you were coming.” Satoru whispers, you look up at him curiously, and Nanami chuckles a bit.

“We wanted to see the full effect.” He murmurs.

“Look, his jaw is on the floor. Shit, take her coat!” Shoko says, Satoru snatches it off casually, as Suguru approaches, and sees you in your dress now, your heart is racing in your chest when he stands right in front of you.

Suguru’s heart isn’t racing, it’s pounding out of his chest, when he sees you, so beautiful in this golden dress, it hugs your every curve, hitting mid thigh, revealing much of your supple skin that seems to glitter under the fairy lights hung all over. He blinks once, twice, three times, and opens his mouth, but he can’t even form a coherent thought.

You’re looking up at him with those eyes, the glittering ones that he’s looked at for so many years, but he has longed for them since you’ve been gone, he’s pictured them when he closes his eyes. Pictures of you are not the same, they are all gorgeous, you are gorgeous, but there’s something missing in them, something he can only truly feel in person.

He feels your very energy humming, and he’s so terrified, he’s going to close up again, isn’t he? He’s going to let you down again, hold back and shut down, when you last left he was in such a dark, dark place, and he would not let you in. He had no idea you would be here, though he knew you were coming home soon, he’d tried to prepare a whole speech, torn paper after paper.

Filled notebooks about you, highlighting sections, writing poems about your eyes, your lips, everything he would do to you if he got a chance. How he’d kiss every inch of your smooth skin, how he’d see you writhing in pleasure under him, but also how he’d get down on one knee for you, how he’d devote anything if he could just get a chance, a chance to tell you the truth.

The truth?

Suguru Geto has been in love with you since the first day you met, all the way back in elementary school.

“Gonna just stare and drool?” Satoru teases, bringing him back, he clears his throat, a dark pink rushing across his high cheekbones.

Suguru Geto was not inexperienced, he certainly was not a Satoru level player back in the day, but them both being in a fraternity and in sports came with certain things, parties and hookups. He mostly avoided it though, but he’s never been tongue tied with a girl, in fact being with girls was effortless for him, they all just came to him, but you?

You’re so different.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen you in so long…” You fidget a bit, nervous now, looking down. He’s fucking it up already.

“No, I’m sorry, I missed you all very much.” You say with a little smile, hands entwined in front of you, pressing your breasts together in a dress already too revealing, addling his mind. “You look good, Sugu.”

Sugu, the little nickname you had for him, hearing it from your lips after so long melts him, and you’re telling him that he looks good, he should be telling you how beautiful you are. He should have always told you it, but he could never find the right damn words, and after years of not seeing you, he hasn’t moved on, not even close, there is only one you.

“You… you look good.” He manages, voice breaking, he watches your face fall just a bit, cursing himself, as Satoru gestures behind you, a finger gun to his head, and Shoko slits her throat with her finger. Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Um, I mean great, really great. Like… you look…”

“It’s fine, I appreciate it.” You smile, walking up to him then, holding your arms out for a hug, when he pulls you against him, and inhales that scent, the sweet vanilla of your perfume, and the strawberries in your hair, it all hits.

It’s your scent.

He inhales, pulling you tightly against him, the longing making him ache, as you inhale his scent, that fresh yet masculine one, feeling his hard body against yours, he’s gotten even more buff, you feel all the muscles as he holds you tight. You feel how broad his shoulders are when your hands gently brush against his biceps over his soft black sweater.

You look up into his eyes, those dark violet ones that are lidded and lazy, making you wonder what they look like when he feels good. You shake the thoughts away, praying your dress covers the now perked up nipples from the contact, your heat pooling in your lower tummy just from a hug. How has he gotten more gorgeous, you can’t understand.

His mid length dark hair is even longer now, straight and silky to his shoulders and even beyond them, he has half of it up in a bun and damned if Suguru Geto is the only man that can make it look so attractive. A little wisp falls in front of his forehead just so, you ache to brush it back, to lean up and kiss those full lips, glossy when he runs a tongue along them.

It’s not just as bad as it was before for you…

It’s not just as bad as it was before for him…

It’s worse.

“Ahem, weren’t you going to smoke?” Shoko cuts in the awkward silence of you two, you step aside then.

“Sorry, don't let me keep you! We can catch up later.” You say, and he opens his mouth again, then Satoru interrupts.

“Go check out the stars together on the balcony and have a smoke, Suguru, yeah?” Suguru nods then, eagerly, taking your jacket from Satoru and gently putting it over your shoulders.

“Yeah, if it won’t bother you?” He asks, you shake your head with a smile, although you don’t smoke, it is very common in France, and you’re pretty used to it now, along with Sugu and Shoko having smoked since high school.

“Not at all. If you don’t mind the company.” You say, brushing your hair back behind your ear, you’re so fucking cute, Suguru wants to tell you…

No, he’s going to tell you.

Tonight.

What if you leave again, what if someone sweeps you off your feet? What if he’ll live forever and not have said it? He has to throw it out there, and if you do not feel the same, he worries he’ll hit that dark place again, but he’s going to try. He places his hand on the small of your back, then Satoru hands you both a glass of champagne, winking at you.

You walk out with him, god his big hand feels good there, it feels so natural. For years upon years you had a thing for him, but it seems you all had really just stayed friends, he’s kept in touch even though you’ve been abroad, but it seemed merely friendly. He watched your Insta and liked a couple pictures, made a couple comments, you two hadn’t even had a phone call.

You realize just how much you missed that dark, husky voice when you both step out back to Satoru’s balcony, it’s high up on a hill, giving the perfect view of the sky and of the city lights below. You lean against the glass railing, watching the sky glittering, stars twinkling, the moon a crescent shimmering and reflected on the water overlooking the pretty lake below.

“This is so nice, I missed the beauty here.” Suguru looks at you, at the breeze gently blowing your hair back, revealing your beautiful face in the night.

“I missed the beauty too.” He says, you look at him then, incredulously, and his heart hammers, like he’s a dumb teenager and not twenty two now.

“What do you mean, did you leave here for a bit?” You ask, and he exhales then, stepping closer to you, two fingers tilting your chin up, and you feel your body react, your pulse fluttering.

“I mean your beauty. You don’t just look great, fuck I am dumb sometimes, I suck at expressing…”

“Sugu, it's fine.”

“It’s not. You look breathtaking.” His violet eyes glimmer, dark lashes hovering over them, the words not computing in your muddled mind. “That’s as close to the word that describes you as I can think.”

“Breathtaking? I… that’s too…” You’re glad it’s dark, so he can’t see his effects on you, but surely he catches the rise and fall of your chest with the quickening of your breath, and when his thumb brushes over your lower lip, it trembles just a bit. “You really think so?”

He scoffs a bit, sighing. “I’ve always thought so, I’ve always thought you were beautiful, even when we were kids. I’m sure I’ve… said it.”

“N-no. Um, you have said pretty but I thought you meant it as a friend?” Suguru sighs again, looking back into your eyes, hand still on your chin.

“There are a few memories I’d like to look back on with you, do you think you can listen to them tonight? If I promise you the best New Years Eve kiss ever?” You giggle then, looking down shyly, hands roaming gently up his hard abdomen, fingers clutching the soft fabric just so.

“I get a kiss from Suguru Geto? Wasn’t the last one… gosh, prom?” He nods then, smirking just a bit.

“That will be one of the stories.”

“And do I get a kiss for each one?” You tease, raising a brow.

“Do you want five kisses?”

“Five! Sounds like it’d be more than kisses, hmm?” Suguru’s hair falls over his shoulder gently, his free hand pressing against the nip of your waist, and something clicks then, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

He knows this is where he is supposed to be, gazing down at your beautiful face, your lips parted just so, eyes dilating when his thumb presses against your ribcage under the swell of your breast. He watches your breath hitch, as his own does, when he feels your body, the curve of your waist, over the sequined dress he’d die to take off of you.

“I could kiss you everywhere.” You let this sound escape, this little cry that you quickly get embarrassed by, but he shakes his head, pulling you closer. “I’ll demonstrate a bit.”

“Y-yeah?” He chuckles against your ear, breath tickling.

“Yeah.” He kisses right behind your ear, a little press of firm lips, that touch alone has you aching, reeling, when his tongue flicks against your skin, your hands clutch him tightly, earning his quiet moan at your reaction.

“Sugu, I've also wanted to tell you something, something I really have been wanting to say for so long.” Suguru kisses your neck again, inhaling your scent, before nodding and pulling back.

“After my stories.” He says with a turn to his lips, you laugh softly.

“Yeah? All right. First one, shoot.” You pick up your glass off the railing, he picks his up as well. “Thought you were gonna have a smoke?”

“Trying to quit soon.” He admits, pulling one out then, leaning on the rail and looking at you, clinking your glasses. “Light for me?”

“Sure.” You take the lighter, hands just a little shaky when you flick it, the flame burns the cherry of his slim white cigarette, he takes an inhale, careful to blow the smoke up and away from you, then he takes a sip of the champagne, as do you.

“First story starts on the day we met, do you remember?” You smile fondly, nodding then.

*****

The First time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 11- Grade Five

Suguru Geto was staring at you, the new girl in the school, how could he not when you were just so cute? He thinks you’re the cutest girl he has seen, actually, and Satoru, his best friend, was snickering behind him as he just stared. “You think she’s cute!”

“No!” Suguru hissed, but Satoru was snorting in laughter, as you all played in the playground, it was winter time that year, and a light dusting of snow was on the ground, coating the grass in white.

“Hey, new girl!” Satoru shouted, you turned then, you were just reading a book rather than playing, Suguru found it so interesting, how your glasses sat just so on the bridge of your nose, which is a little red from the cold.

“Yeah?” You closed the book, standing and walking up to them both, Satoru had begun nudging Suguru in the shoulder, when your eyes met for the first time.

Gosh, he’s so cute, you thought, he literally looked afraid though as he stared at you with wide violet eyes. You worry then, is there something on your face!? The way he stared, you start to feel like something must be wrong with you, especially when he didn’t say anything, and instead his white haired best friend stepped closer to you, grinning.

“What’s your name, new girl?” He asked, you softly tell them, and Suguru repeated your name softly, as he continued to stare.

“Um, is there something on my face?” You asked him then, gloved hand coming to an overheated cheek. Suguru sputtered, and Satoru laughed then.

“Nah, he thinks you’re cute. I think he likes you.” Satoru had declared in a sing-song voice, and you felt it, your heart fluttering at the thought of such a cute boy liking you.

Suguru doesn’t like you though, he thinks he has fallen in love at first sight, maybe that sounds silly, but how else can he explain this?

“You think I’m cute?” You asked shyly, and Suguru shook his head, breaking your little eleven year old heart.

“No, I don’t! I don’t like you.” You gasped then, and Satoru grimaced at his friend's folly, hand on his own face. “I mean, oh my god, I don’t know you… I don’t not like you! I just… don’t think you’re cute. I mean-”

“I… I have to go.” You felt the tears pricking your eyes, embarrassment creeping in, maybe this is a thing, to be mean to the new girl? You turned and ran off.

“You really messed that up. She is cute.” Satoru had said, Suguru glared at him, then frowned when he looked at your retreating figure.

“Satoru, you throw snowballs at the girl you like.”

“It’s better than what you did!” Satoru was stomping his foot. Suguru sighed, running after you, calling your name, you paused, turning then, and he saw your face streaked with tears, it gives him the worst feeling in the world.

“What do you want?” You mumbled, voice breaking. “It’s fine if you don’t like me, but leave me alone.”

“I do! I… I don’t…” Why can’t Suguru say anything?

“Maybe we can be friends anyway?” You asked, sniffling then, and Suguru nodded eagerly, clearing his throat, brushing tears from your cheek then.

“Of course I’m sorry. You’re not… not cute. I…”

“Okay. Then… we are friends? I need friends, all mine are back home.” You were, holding out a hand, he took it in his, nodding with a little smile.

“Friends.”

But eleven year old Suguru knew even then that he didn’t just want to be your friend, no he’d like to always hold your hand, and it felt empty when you turned and walked away, a pretty smile brightening your tear streaked cheeks. Satoru whistled and shook his head when Suguru came back.

“You messed up, Suguru.”

“I know.”

*****

You feel emotions pick at you now, remembering that day like it was yesterday somehow, it’s all fresh in your mind even after all these years. You look down nervously, sipping the champagne and sighing, as Suguru puts out a cigarette now, brushing his hair back and looking down at you.

“I remember all of that. It was so embarrassing, Sugu, why are we going there?” Suguru shakes his head, taking your hand in his now, remembering how it felt to hold your hand the first time, even in both of your winter gloves.

“I did think you were cute, the cutest girl I’d seen.” You giggle a bit, shaking your head. “I did, Satoru put me on the spot, and I froze.”

“He’s good at doing that.” You are stepping closer, looking up at him under your lashes as he towers so tall over you. “I was so nervous, it was my first day, I think you two were the first to talk to me.”

“You had your nose in a book, you always have though.”

“So, why the walk down memory lane?”

Suguru takes a breath, cupping your face, he watches your pupils dilate, feels the heat of your cheeks under his palm, aching for you. “It’s so you know.”

“Know what, you thought the new girl was cute?” He exhales, shaking his head, lips just a centimeter from yours.

“Much more than that. But you needed to know that I liked you.”

“Really!?”

He chuckles. “Yes, really. I hated when you cried, it made me so upset. It always has.”

You gently hold his wrist, thumb pressing against the veins of his inner wrist that pop out of his skin just so, strong arms, strong hands, that make you wonder. “I think I earned one of your kisses.”

“You did, love.”

Love, that little term of endearment breaks you, breaks your resolve, when his plump lips descend, tasting just faintly of smoke, but also sweet like the grape of the champagne against yours.

When Suguru Geto kisses your lips, it takes everything in him now to lift up that dress and taste all of you, when his tongue dives into the sweetness of your mouth gently between the seam of your soft lips. You let out this breathy cry, one that makes him ache for you, fuck he’s getting hard just kissing you, just feeling your tongue glide along his, then you gasp.

“You got your tongue pierced?” You murmur then, when you feel the barbell hit your tongue, he chuckles a bit, thumb brushing along your jawline, making you tremble, you feel it, the wetness sticking against your lacy panties, from a kiss, then when he holds out his tongue?

You’re done.

“Yeah I got it done a couple years back.” You bite your lower lip, mind thinking insane thoughts, picturing just what it could do, and then trying to shove all that back, because you know how much it would mean if you both took that step.

Fuck it would mean too much to you, you don’t know if you can casually hook up with him, to the point you step back a bit. “I can’t.”

He frowns, brows drawing together. “Can’t what?”

“I thought I could maybe… hook up with you. God I want to.” His lips part, narrowed eyes widening now. “But it would be too much for me. I need to… I need to go, I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Please.” He murmurs your name, gripping your hand when you turn away, big hand swallowing your little one, you exhale, looking back up at him. “You think that’s what I want from you, a hook up?”

“No, I said I wanted it. But I don’t think I could be casual, not with you.”

“And you think I could be casual with you?” Your heart is almost thudding so fast you feel dizzy, he pulls you against him again, your eyes go back to his lips. “I wasn’t asking for a ‘hook up’ tonight.”

“If you keep kissing me, that’s what will happen. Your tongue ring is fucking up my brain.” He snorts then, you look down shyly. “I’m not joking.”

“You’re so cute.” You think back on that day again, as does Suguru. “I should have told you then, that you were the cutest girl I’d ever seen.”

“Sugu, we were kids, it’s fine. Don’t worry about things like that.”

“No, I need to tell you another time I didn’t say the right thing.” You shake your head. “Yes, I do. Want another drink for the next story?”

“Just don’t show me that tongue ring please, I don’t think I can handle the horny ass thoughts.” He chuckles again, leaning close, the breeze blowing his sweater just a bit, lining his hard body.

“Think that’s my only piercing?” You bite your lip, mind racing.

“You’re a tease, Suguru Geto.” You whisper softly.

“Not teasing. Another story, should we go inside for the next?” You nod, a little nervous as he guides you through the party, you wave and make small talk with old friends and new faces, when he grabs two more glasses of champagne and takes you by the hand.

“Where are we heading, storyteller? Feel like this is the ghosts of New years past.” He laughs again, fuck when is the last time he laughed this much?

“I have a room here for when I stay, though I don’t often now that Satoru has his girl, they fuck so loud it echoes everywhere.” You snort now, shaking your head.

“It’s wild they ended up together after so long, I didn’t know if they’d ever admit their feelings.” It gets quiet then, between you two, so much left unsaid, because Suguru hasn’t admitted his own feelings, despite helping Satoru finally confess his.

Suguru shuts the door to the room, heading over to the speaker and connecting his phone, putting on one of your favorite songs, sitting on the bed then, leaning casually and patting the spot next to him. You sit down, you’re alone with Suguru Geto, the boy you’ve been head over heels for, since forever.

His heart skips a beat when you sit down, and sip your drink, smiling curiously at him, the longing just growing with every breath you take. “You remember this?”

“Of course I do. It’s going to fit into my next story.”

“Can I pick the next spot you kiss? Shit that’s so forward oh my-”

“Shh.” Suguru has a finger on your lips. “Yes, you can pick anywhere on your pretty little body.” His words fuck what’s left of your mind, one of his hand casually brushing against your bare thigh.

“Pretty little body?” You whisper back.

“Very, very pretty. Are you ready for more of me admitting I absolutely was trash at communicating?” His violet eyes glint just a bit with humor, you sip your drink, scooching just a little closer, nodding then.

“I’m ready. Where to next?”

“Middle School.”

*****

The Second time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 14- Grade Eight

You and Suguru had a school project together, and he had to admit he was so nervous for you to be here, in his house, in his room. You were laying on your tummy on the floor, feet kicked up in the air, little silver anklets on your ankles dangling just so as you swung them back and forth, as you drew all over the giant poster board, shading it in as you go.

“You’re really good at art.” Suguru said softly, you smiled brightly at the compliment, lighting up your pretty face, your braces just adding to it.

“Oh thanks Suguru, you’re always so nice. I’m so glad we’re friends.” You said, sitting up then, on your knees, a hand on his shoulder fondly.

With glasses and braces, some kids picked on you here and there, but Suguru and Satoru never let anyone mess with you, so people backed off rather quickly when the boys getting taller and bigger than everyone stood up for you. Especially Suguru, he was the first to defend from any standpoint.

When your hand touched his shoulder he blushed, and you tilted your head curiously at him. “Are you hot in here, Suguru? Do you have a fan?”

“I… um… yeah. Hot.” He cleared his throat, turning the little fan on in the room, it blew back his hair just so, his growing dark locks blowing back, and your heart faltered just a bit.

He looked like some guy from a book, from a movie you think, riding some horse with his hair blowing like that. When he smiles at you with those tired violet eyes of his, you melt more and more. How were you supposed to only be his friend when he’s that handsome, and you kept imagining your first kiss in your head over and over, wishing that it could be him.

You know you’re probably not his type though, Suguru had girls that flirted with him a lot, and the only couple you’ve seen him with were pretty different from you. You’re a nerdy girl and quiet, so the two of you fall into a comfortable silence often. You imagine maybe he wants someone a little more outgoing, a little more popular, but you’re not sure.

You do know no matter how many times you all hang out, he has never even glanced at you as anything but a friend.

But you’re very wrong.

Every time you look away, Suguru looks at you, and would think just how cute you are doing every little mundane thing you did. His already deep feelings had him writing in his journals about you, and only you, he composed silly poems that absolutely should never see the light of day. You made him feel so silly, he should just share it with you, right?

He’s brought back to you gently putting your hand down, scooching close to him on the soft carpet of his bedroom, leaning back against the bed. “Suguru, can I ask something personal?”

“Of course. Yes, I am a spy, undercover. You knew?” You snort at that, rolling your eyes.

“Knew it. No, um… you’ve… have you ever kissed?”

Suguru’s heart literally stopped at that moment, god he thinks the room is spinning, as those words casually came from your lips, lips that had sparkly gloss on them, that he’s currently staring at now. He gulps, and you nervously wet them, doing far too many things to his teenage brain, that already runs at half capacity when in your presence.

“Have I what!?”

“Oh that’s too personal? I’m sorry… I just haven’t yet, and I feel like everyone else has. Is it the braces? Or… am I too shy? Not… maybe not pretty enough. Suguru, do you think I’ll get prettier when I get these off?” You asked, and he glared at you, long lashes lowering. “Am I asking too much?”

“You’re… you’re so…” Say it, say it, say it.

“So…” You lead him to finish but he takes a breath then, shocking you when he cupped your face gently, your hands came to his wrists, breath catching when he leaned over you.

“You’re pretty with braces, or without, okay?” You felt your own cheeks heat up, when he leaned closer, his silky hair falling to the side.

“Thank you, you’re the best friend.” You whispered, the word friend made him sick almost. “You made me feel better.”

“I’ve kissed before, I can show you. If… if you want.” He said then, and you nodded nervously, it’s a friend showing you a kiss, right?

When Suguru’s lips found yours that day, while your favorite song played on the radio, it was like some electric current ran through you, his lips pressing just so gently on yours, careful and sweet, his hand on your face pressed just a bit more. You gasped out, pulling back, eyes shooting up to his, his lips were just so glossy, covered in a bit of your glitter, making you giggle.

“You’re glittery.” You teased softly, and he licked his lips to taste the gloss.

“Strawberry?” You nodded nervously, your hands went to his shoulders.

“Can I try again? Like what do I do with… the tongue and all that?” Suguru gulped then, you were literally killing him.

“That’s making out. You just um… I don’t know how to explain. I can show you again?”

“Sure.” You both kissed once more, his tongue darted in your mouth, making you gasp at the sensation, you felt so warm, butterflies in your tummy, as you tried to move your tongue back. You felt so awkward in his comparison, the ease in which he moved, he seemed so smooth, so practiced.

But he enjoyed it, he enjoyed it so much, how sweet you were, and how much he wanted to kiss you every moment of every day. You tentatively moved your lips, your tongue, at certain points you sighed and leaned even further against him, Suguru lost himself in you, imagined that this was all real, that you were his girlfriend, that he could tell you the truth.

Soon you both heard a knock on the door, and you both separated quickly, nearly jumping apart.

“Hey mom.” He said, as she smiled at you both.

“Do you all want anything to eat? I’m cooking dinner.”

“Oh I can’t stay, mom will want me back home, but thank you!”

“Of course sweetie. Alright well it is six, so you may want to head home soon if you are all done.” She smiled as she walked out, leaving you to nervously gather your things.

You just kissed Suguru Geto.

Your first kiss!

You opened your mouth, then shut it. How do you tell him your feelings?

“Um, that was really nice. Kissing you.” You whispered, wondering if that was okay, but Suguru was still reeling, kissing you was nothing like kissing the other girls, it was… just, different, it was special.

“Oh, um yeah.” Was all he said then, and you stood there, blinking up at him, as he struggled to form the right words.

Tell her.

He said nothing, however. The silence was loud while you both stood there in that awkward silence, until you felt so mortified, embarrassed beyond belief. He was just showing you as a friend, why would you expect him to feel what you do? He probably felt sorry for you if anything, you immediately turned to leave, he stopped you with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

He cursed himself internally, why couldn’t he reassure you, why couldn’t he tell you that he has never felt this way!? When your eyes were just a bit glassy, and he saw your lips were just a little swollen from his kisses, you look even prettier, so pretty and perfect just how you are, that he was intimidated to say it. He was terrified, were you just wanting a friend to show you?

Was he overthinking it?

Were you overthinking it?

“I’m… you… you’re…”

“Suguru, what is it?” You asked, blinking just a bit and tilting your glasses up, he brushed your hair back, clearing his throat, your lips parted just a bit.

“You’re not bad at it.” Your face falls, the hopes just shattered, and Suguru could sense it, sputtering, what the heck was coming out of his mouth!?

“That’s good I guess?”

He can’t think of what to say, that he wants to kiss you again, that he wants to ask you to be his girl. How could he fuck it all up this bad!?

You felt so emotional you turned away again. “Bye Suguru.”

He’d shut the door behind you, resting his head on it, seeing your sad face in his mind until he closed his eyes that night. He kept looking at his phone, but he couldn’t reach out. He didn’t wanna mess up even more.

*****

You bite your lower lip now, it’s quiet as the song fades in the background, the same song that had played when he kissed you. “Was I so bad at it?”

“God no, I wanted to tell you then, but I couldn’t.” He leans close to you, eyes drinking you in. “You were beautiful then, and now. And you were the best kiss I had, you are the best kiss I’ve had.”

You gasp in surprise, brows together as you look into his eyes, as his hand on your thigh slips up just a bit, the contact making heat pool between your thighs. You look down, at his strong, tanned hand so casually touching you, before looking back up at him, letting his words set in.

“You were my first kiss, and you… are still my best kiss too.”

He blinks. “I am?”

You smile softly, brushing his hair back behind his ear, fingertip running along his gaged earring then. “Oh Sugu, you're so silly. Of course you are, I thought you didn’t like it, or felt bad for me?”

“No, no… no. I should have said it then, something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

He smirks now. “First you get a kiss, anywhere you want, remember?” Your mind goes to the most lewd places, you raise a brow.

“Anywhere?” He laughs softly.

“Anywhere.” His voice is husky, so deep, the timbre just adding to your addled senses, but you can’t just be like- kiss my pussy Sugu thanks- so you look where his hand is touching you now.

“There.” You gesture to your upper thigh, Suguru kneels then, shocking you as you look down at him, between your thighs, leaning low, the sexiest thing you can imagine seeing. You whimper, you fucking whimper when he presses his lips on your inner thigh gently, looking up at you.

“Here? Or… here.” He kisses higher, you grit your teeth to hold in another embarrassing cry, hips arching just a bit off the bed.

“There, actually.” You whisper, tapping your other thigh. “You have to make it even now.”

“Oh, of course.” He kisses your other soft inner thigh, fuck he can see those lacy panties peeking out under your dress, the plump lips of your pussy visible, along with a wet spot forming, making him throb under his jeans. His hands grip your calves, feeling the muscles tense under his hands, kissing up your other thigh.

He watches your head fall back, your eyes fluttering shut. “Sugu…”

“Yes, love? Somewhere else?” He stands now, leaning over you, fingertips trailing up your inner thighs and higher, leaving a network of goosebumps in their wake.

“Can I be greedy and get another kiss here?” You tap your lips, he smiles softly, nodding, then he’s kissing you, pressing your back into the mattress, and you swear you’d just have his fucking babies at this point when you feel him, hard under his jeans, pressing against your aching cunt. “Ah!”

“You okay?” He whispers, you nod eagerly, too eager, yanking him down against you, tongues moving, messy and sloppy, his kiss so intense you have to pull away to suck in a breath. “Fuck.”

“Y-yeah. F-fuck.” You manage to whisper back, he leans up on one arm, your hands slip under his sweater, feeling his hot skin, his taut perfect abdomen. “Do I need three more stories? I’ll die.”

He laughs softly, kissing down your neck, your hands grip his back, hips arching, he feels your heat against his cock. “Are you so needy for me, Princess?”

“Princess!? I’m already wet, stop.”

“Oh, I can feel that.” You’re heating up when he reaches down, rubbing you over your panties, then his violet eyes dilate, and he moans. “Oh, you’re that wet? Fuck.”

“Embarrassing.” You mumble, he shakes his head, thumb pressing against your clothed clit, fabric so damp it’s pathetic, his touch feels so good you could almost cum from his little circles.

You’re not like this, what does Suguru do to you?

“One more story and I’ll make your pretty pussy cum.” He says in your ear, your head falls back, when he nips it with his teeth.

“Oh fine, but Sugu we need to cool off or you’re not making it.” He smirks down at you, making your eyes narrow. “You’re getting cocky about this.”

“Getting you this wet, oh yes.” He laps the sticky clear arousal off his thumb, thin nostrils flaring then, he moans, as your mouth opens at the action. “You taste so sweet, oh my god.”

“Sugu…”

“Shit, yeah, come on.” He exhales and you both fix yourself a bit, you both down your drinks and he then leads you down the stairs, holding your hand as he does, earning the grins of your friends, including Satoru’s girlfriend.

Just this Christmas they’d finally gotten together after a lifetime of just being friends, Suguru hopes and wonders if something is in the air, as he tastes your sweetness still on his tongue, mixing with the champagne. “You all were up there a while, but not long enough.” Gojo teases.

“He’s regaling me with stories.” Gojo’s girlfriend giggles then.

“Oh, let me guess, five of them?” She teases, as Gojo yanks her closer.

“It’s the formula.” Suguru pulls you away then, as a song starts.

“Let’s dance?” You agree, smiling as he holds you in his arms, fuck it feels so good, his strong arms wrapping your hips, it’s nothing like the dances you remember with him before, not when he pulls you against him, and his thigh presses between you, torturing you when you roll your hips. He leans close, as your friends watch, kissing you in front of everyone then.

Something you never, ever thought he’d do.

Something he’d been dying to do.

He pulls back, turning you, your back against him as you rock side to side, pressing kisses down the side of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in pleasure, ass arching against him, his big hand splaying your waist completely as it presses gently over your tummy.

“Having you in my arms? Am I having some dream.” He murmurs, surprising you then.

“You, having a dream about me?”

God, if you only knew what he dreams of, all the positions he’d have you in, the ways he’d make you cum for him. But also little things, like having coffee in the morning on the balcony with you, sweet little intimate moments he can picture so very vividly, like waking up with you in his arms, smiling at him sleepily.

“I have so many times while you’ve been gone. God I missed you.” Suguru turns you back around then, hands finding purchase on your waist, the entire room fades away then, it’s just you two.

Just like that night, the one where Suguru failed again.

“Third story, I’m ready. What’s the next story, Sugu?”

He grins, white teeth glinting. “So eager to cum, hmm?”

“Shush.” Your arms wrap his neck, fingers playing with his long silky locks. “Go on then, what grade are we travelling to?”

“We’re up to sophomore year now.”

*****

The Third time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 16- Grade Ten

 You were at this party after Satoru and Suguru had won the state championship for your school. It was an insane party you’d had to sneak out to go to, your mom thought you were at Shoko’s house, her mom thought she was at your house. You’re both giggling as you sit next to each other now, in a circle with a ton of your friends and a vodka bottle someone had snatched.

It’s spinning currently, Suguru was looking at you then, he was the one who had spun it, he watched you bite your lip, he studied you carefully, in bits and pieces, looking away every time you catch his gaze. Since that night in eighth grade you all had stayed great friends, but now Suguru knew how it was to kiss you, and no other girl had such an effect.

He had so many journals of you it’s embarrassing.

You had so many diaries of him it’s embarrassing.

You kept looking at him, at his jaw line, at him smiling and sipping on a soda as he watched everyone at the party, ever observant and aware, and even more handsome as you all grew up. Suguru and Satoru were two of the most popular boys there were, and they had their dedicated fans. You’d gotten your braces off and gotten contacts, you suppose you’re sort of popular by association of your friends, but nothing like them.

Suguru missed your glasses, he missed how they sat on the bridge of your nose, though he does enjoy seeing more of your pretty eyes now, not that you knew that.

Suguru had a girl by his side who was whispering something in his ear. You hated that you felt it like a punch to the gut, sipping your drink nervously to choke down the sensation. Shoko leans in, giving you a knowing look in her dark brown eyes. “You should just tell him.”

“Tell who what?” She snorted at you, rolling her eyes and wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

“You’ve got it bad baby, it’s painfully obvious.” You sighed, looking back at Suguru again, catching his violet gaze across the circle, and you busied yourself looking back at Shoko, whispering in her ear.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Oh yeah. He likes you too, you know?”

“No way. He’s never said so.” Shoko had leaned over and poured a little vodka in your cup, you gasp. “Shoko!”

“For courage.” You sipped it and winced, earning her laughter, when the bottle stopped, and it was just a bit from you… it’s on Shoko. “Yuck.”

“Yuck.” He agreed, and Satoru was laughing maniacally.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss.”

“Oh whatever.” Shoko leaned close, disgust plain on her pretty features. “I’ll puke after this.”

You giggled a bit at her expression, she leaned over, as did Suguru, and you watched their lips press together, but Satoru booed when they pulled back quickly, as did everyone in the circle. “You have to make out, you know the rules.”

They both grimace, and kiss each other again, Suguru’s eyes caught yours as he did, as he pictured kissing you instead, long lashes fluttering and casting shadows along his high cheekbones. You felt sick then, downing more of the strong drink with cheap vodka, as you saw the love of your teenage life kiss your best friend, his hand cupping her face.

Everyone whistled after that, and the worst part is it looked like Suguru enjoyed it, but he only did in any way because of looking at you, picturing your lips on his. Was your lip gloss still strawberry, he wondered? Was it another flavor? And when he caught your gaze, he could see you’re upset, and he wondered why. It can’t be you liked him, it had been years and you’ve never brought it up again.

Friends.

Best friends.

Shoko had wiped her lips in disgust as everyone laughed, and then it was Satoru’s turn, he spun the bottle and winked over at Suguru. “Hope it’s you baby boy.”

“Shut up, Satoru, ugh.” Suguru grumbled, his eyes kept flitting to you, watching Shoko pour more liquor in your cup, when Satoru’s bottle landed directly at you.

Shit.

Satoru leaned in close, lips against Suguru’s ear. “You don’t like her like that anyway, right? So no big deal.”

“Yeah.” He managed to try to spit out that lie, and Satoru knew it, rolling his blue eyes.

“Yeah? Won’t care?” Suguru shook his head, when you scooted to the middle of the circle, on your knees, your little pleated skirt spread just so, killing Suguru then. You had looked at him with something deep in your pretty eyes, before looking back at Satoru.

“Are we doing this?” You asked nervously, Satoru smirked charmingly, nodding and cupping your face, before descending his lips on yours.

Suguru wanted to punch his one best friend for kissing his other best friend, he’s never felt so mad, so sick as when he had to see Satoru kissing you. His fists clenched at his sides, anger coursing through his veins, at himself. His breath caught in his throat, Nanami and Shoko were whispering and looking right at him, your eyes were fluttering shut, like you enjoyed it.

Why wouldn’t you? You weren’t with Suguru, he shouldn’t expect you to just know what he thinks, how he felt, but when Satoru was pulling you against him, putting on a show, Suguru was losing the little control he had. Your hands came to rest on Satoru’s shoulders, wrecking Suguru then, he couldn’t handle it, the longing, the need for you, the desire to rip his friend off you.

You were kissing Satoru Gojo that night, and sure, it felt good, but it felt like a friendly press of lips at first. Then, Satoru surprised you, he was moving his tongue against yours, making you gasp as his big hands pressed your waist, you hadn’t been kissed like that.

Satoru had pulled back and whispered in your ear. “Gotta make it look good, look how mad he is.”

“Mad? No way.” You shook your head, Satoru chuckled, kissing you once more, your eyes found Suguru then, standing and turning, making you gently push Gojo away. “What are you trying to do?” You had asked him, glaring at his antics.

“Get him to admit his feelings.” Satoru winked now. “Oh you’re a good kisser by the way.”

You’re a blushing mess. “Go after him.” Nanami’s voice said softly behind you.

“Should I?” You ask, they nod, and you had taken a breath for courage, hopping up and running after Suguru, finding him alone out front of the little white house full of so many people. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he turned to look at you.

“Suguru, are you okay?” You asked softly, he sighed, shaking his head, looking at your lips, just a little glossy and swollen.

“No.” You stepped closer, shivering a bit, he took his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders, rubbing your arms gently under it, warming you with the contact, making the butterflies soar in your tummy.

“Why?” You asked, he had tilted his head, opening his mouth, closing it, then opening it again.

“I didn’t like it.”

“Me kissing Satoru?”

“Yeah.” He said, but did not elaborate.

You blink a bit, looking down. “I didn’t like you kissing Shoko.”

“You didn’t?” You both stepped closer, the alcohol was new to you, it’s hitting a bit, and that plus him leaning so close made you dizzy, made you want to kiss him so badly, and only him. “Why not?”

“Why didn’t you, Sugu?”

He sighed, cupping your face, brushing your silky hair back, his jaw tensing just a bit. “I just… I don't like it. Did you like kissing him?”

“I mean, he’s a good kisser.” The words bring you back then, and you step back, surprising him. “I guess I wasn’t then, was I?”

“What now?” His eyes narrow.

“In your room, do you even remember? It’s probably nothing to you, but it was my only kiss until just now.” His lips parted in surprise, and you feel embarrassment creeping up.

“Only kiss till now? But guys are all after you. Look at you.” His gaze had darted down, making your breath come in little pants.

“You like looking at me?” You asked softly, he scoffed then, looking to the side, seeing cars drift down the road.

How can you not know?

“That’s a dumb question.”

You blink then, before glaring. “Excuse me for asking, I guess I should know you don’t even see me that way.”

“What?” You were handing him his jacket, feeling tears prick your eyes.

“Why do you say things like that!? That you don’t like me with someone, when you’ll never have interest in me. No matter how pretty I try to look around you, it’s not like you care, I’m just your friend.” You turned and stomped away, confusing the shit out of him then.

“You’re drunk or something, you’re not just walking off into the night. And you’re wrong, you know.” He turned you back to face him, throwing the coat back on you, the moonlight glinted off your tears, tears that broke him. “Don’t cry please. You’re… you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“You’re pretty, okay? I notice.” You gasped, and Suguru wondered just how you were so oblivious, or was he that good at hiding it. “I notice a lot about you, all the time.”

“Why have you never even asked me out?” You asked boldly then, and he just stared at you. “Will we only be friends? I need to know, Sugu, because I hold back constantly, in this silly dream.”

“Hold back?”

“Yes. Why do you think you were the only kiss? I hoped you’d want to again, one day. But I think I’m wrong here.” Suguru tilted your chin up, leaning down so close you taste his sweet breath.

“Thought you liked the kiss with Satoru, hmm?” His thumb brushed over your lower lip, shocks were running through you.

“Not like our-”

“Suguru!” The girl that had been all over him most of the party came out giggling then with two more girlfriends, Suguru pulled back, and you felt your heart break into pieces, when you took the coat off and handed it to him, rage seething through you along with embarrassment.

“Hey, it's your friend!” They waved at you, and you smiled politely, Suguru just watched you, not saying anything, coat in his hand.

“Come on back in, they’re doing seven minutes in heaven Sugu.” Another girl teased, you stare at each other then, you ached for him to say something, say anything, but he cleared his throat, holding out a hand to you.

“Wanna go back in?” He asked, a fake smile on his face.

“Sure.” You don’t take his hand, but soon he has girls all over him, as you all return to the party, and he’s sent to that closet for seven minutes with one of those girls, Shoko is rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Did you say how you feel?”

“I tried, I tried. But he doesn’t say anything Shoko, he just shuts down.”

“He does that sometimes, but I swear he really likes-” Her vision went to the opening door, people were all whistling and making comments, you turned and saw him, with lipstick all over his cheek and neck, and the girl was giggling. His eyes caught yours, his face falling then.

“Let’s go home, please.”

*****

The memories hit so hard you can’t breathe for a moment, Suguru’s face is serious, you all aren’t dancing any longer. Remembering seeing him out of that closet feels as fresh as ever somehow. Now you’re in his strong arms, and he watches those tears back in your eyes, hating himself for them.

“I didn’t kiss her.” His voice brings you back to the present.

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I never kissed her. She didn’t wanna get made fun of, so she asked if she could plant some kisses on my cheek, she was getting pressured by some friends. So I agreed and let her, but the rest of the time we talked, and I thought about you, fuck I felt horrible after.” You step back then, taking a breath.

“I need air.” You walk back outside, Suguru follows you then, your eyes are shut as it all sinks in.

“I’m sorry, I know that night was terrible, and after…”

“I got a boyfriend like a week after.” You say, when he stands behind you, hands on your bare shoulders, he leans over you, kissing one, making you tremble. “I was so hurt and upset I dated the first guy who asked me.”

“Shit.” Is all he manages, and you laugh without humor, resting back against his warm, hard body.

“Yeah, shit.”

“I wanted to kill Satoru, he did it to get a reaction, and he got one, but I still couldn’t open up. I couldn’t tell you that I wanted to kiss you.” You turn then, looking up at him, head falling back just so, seeing his own emotions now, making his violet eyes glisten, adam's apple bobbing as he gulps. “I only ever wanted to kiss you.”

“Suguru…” You’re crying when he captures your lips again in his, taking a breath against him, shaking with emotion. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Every time I tried I closed up. Then I fucked it all up, and… then you dated that guy for like almost a year.”

“I know. I wanted to get the silly idea of us becoming more pushed back in my brain. But… I never stopped…”

“Me either.” You both rest your foreheads together now, emotions coursing through you both. What seemed like a silly high school night had meant so much, and done so much damage. “We weren’t as close after that, I wanted to make it right, but I think I just fucked it up more.”

“No more stories for a minute.” He nods then, brushing your tears away gently, the love for you swelling more and more, he’s so ready to tell you, for you to know everything in his heart and soul.

“Let’s finish the other story on the way to my house.” You heat up then at the thought, eyes darting back at his lips.

“Are you inviting me to stay the night?” He moans softly, pressing your back against the railing, hands sliding down your arms gently, a thigh pressing between your own, right where you’re so hot for him. Your head falls back, hips arching just so, he feels you so wet against him.

“If you want to, shit I’d let you move in.” You giggle, shaking your head, but he’s dead serious. “I would, fuck I’d let you do anything you want, just to see you every day, just to hear your voice. After all these years, just pictures, just memories.” His voice is hoarse, as his hands slip across the sides of your breasts. “The real thing is finally here, and I don’t intend to let you go.”

“I missed your voice.” You admit, sniffling now, cupping his face and running your fingers along his jaw. “I missed you so much, god I just wanted to call.”

“I did too, god I kept dialing it and hanging up, I kept… dreaming of you.”

“I did too, Sugu.” He sighs now, as he holds you in his embrace, and it feels so perfect, to be in his arms.

You were always supposed to be here.

“Why all the stories, to make me cry my makeup off hmm?” You tease, trying to ease the tension, he smiles, shaking his head.

“Not a drop out of place, you’re perfect, Princess.”

Princess, you’re gonna die.

You bite your lower lip now, arching your hips just so, his hand trails down your tummy, it trembles under his touch. “Will you come spend the night at my house? So I can kiss you in more places?”

“Oh yeah?” He nods, smiling.

“I already owe you an orgasm for this one, don’t I?” The casual way he says those words wrecks your psyche.

“You do. Leaving me edged, you’re cruel Sugu.” He snorts softly at that, shaking his head.

“I’ll make up for it. Come on.”

“Oh you’re having a VIP party huh?” Satoru wiggles his white brows, smacking Suguru on the back. “You remember how to do it anymore? I have tips.”

“Oh fuck you Satoru.” You giggle a bit, raising a brow.

“It’s been a while?” You ask teasingly.

“Just a bit, is all. I assure you I know how it works.” His timbre is low as he whispers in your ear, making you ache.

“I believe you. It’s been a while for me too.” You whisper, he exhales, picturing everything he’s going to do to you.

“We’ll make up for it.”

“Get out before you fuck right here, god.” Shoko says, and your friends are grinning maniacally, basically shooing you all away.

“They planned all of this, didn’t they?” Suguru says, walking next to you now, you nod with a little smile.

“When aren’t they scheming something? Oh… is this your car, holy shit!” Suguru blushes a little, nodding as he opens the door for you, his sleek black sports car worth more than anything you own likely, but it doesn’t surprise you. Satoru and Suguru had killed it in sports, and both were making a lot of money. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Soon he’s shut your door and started up the car, leaning close to you, studying your face carefully, as if committing it all to memory. He studies you like you’re a beautiful work of art, and he’s a connoisseur, like you’re the most precious thing there is. And that is what made you always feel so special, how he looked at you, how you captured his full attention, even as a friend.

“Where is the spot you want a kiss?” He asks softly, you look around nervously, you all are in a car right in front of Satoru’s place still. “They’re very tinted.”

“Oh. Um.” You pull down your top then, and his throat goes dry when he sees them, your perfect breasts that gently bounce out, your nipples pronounced and begging for attention.

“Jesus Christ.” Is all he manages to say hoarsely, bending low, gripping your breasts in his huge hands, you cry out at it, nipples getting harder in his touch. “You’re perfect.”

“You don’t have to say-”

“You are. You are so perfect.” You feel a whirl of emotions, desire, love, pure fucking bliss when he runs his tongue around one areola, before sucking one into his hot mouth, moaning.

“Suguru!” Your hands entangle in his locks, back arching, one of his hands pulls you against him, the other gripping your breast, as his barbell flicks on it, and you’re getting soaked, so wet your panties are sticking. “Oh my god…”

Your voice is a breathy cry, urging him on more when he sucks on your other perky nipple. “Can’t wait to taste you everywhere.”

“Mnnh.” You yank him back up, kissing him over and over, it’s hungry and desperate, it’s full of a longing you’ve both had for over a decade, it’s needy and messy, so fucking messy. He’s got you on his lap, you’re grinding against him, pulling back for a gasp of air. “Sugu, I can’t make it to your house.”

“Lemme make you cum, Princess. Yeah?” You nod eagerly, he positions his arm so his fingers slip under your barrier, earning his groan, his eyes dilating so much they’re almost black when he feels you. “Oh my god, feel her, she’s so wet for me, isn’t she?”

You just nod weakly, when he’s teasing your entrance with his fingertip, before sinking in, you scream out at it, breasts pressing against his chest as he sinks one fully in, stretching your slick walls. You’re blinded when he finds that spongy little spot, pressing like he’s known your body forever, making you feel better with one finger than anything ever has.

“You’re so tight, fuck.” He whispers, you’re squeezing him like a vise when he slips two in, stretching you out, hearing the squelching wetness in his car now. He watches your face contorted in pleasure, his cock straining against his pants. He has precum leaking against them, so ready to be inside you. “You’re close already, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“Please.” Is all you manage, rocking on his hand now, dripping all down him, crying out your pleasure into his lips, as he works you so well, long fingers hitting your spot again and again. “M’close, y-yes.”

“I can feel her, let go Princess. Let go for me.” He’s talking you through it as his thumb finds your clit with the pad of his thumb, and it’s over, you’re shattering for him, cumming so hard you can’t even see then, and he watches you as you fall apart. “That’s it Princess, good girl.”

“Sugu, Sugu- mmm!” You’re shaking as the orgasm wracks through your body, as his fingers slow in your sloppy cunt, so wet it’s fucking stupid, curling them just so to prolong the orgasm even more, until you’re weak. You clutch at his shirt desperately, thighs shaking. “Oh my g-god… what… you’ve been holding out on me this whole t-time!?”

He chuckles, cupping your face now, but not before sucking your arousal off his fingers, kissing you and letting the flavor of you mix with both of your mouths. “Can this hold you for two more stories?” He teases softly, you sigh.

“God I want more though.” You run a hand down his length, he pauses you, shaking his head.

“Not yet, I’ll die.” You’re blushing at the effect you have on him, his thumb runs along your inner wrist, as both of you gather your breaths.

“I don’t do this, I don’t get this way…”

“You still think that I want a hookup? No.” He cups your face, dragging your lips back down to his, as your fears melt. “I’ve waited forever for you, we can wait just a little longer.”

“Forever?” You ask softly, he nods, gulping and then easing you off him, adjusting himself with a wince, you giggle a bit, earning his glare.

“You laugh at my pain, hmm?”

“I’m flattered.”

“You seatbelt up.” He murmurs, leaning across and buckling you in, an arm around the back of your seat as he looks back and reverses, then he turns toward the road, which is surprisingly quiet. You lean against him then, head on his strong shoulder, it feels perfect, despite the nerves.

Would you be good at it? It had been forever.

“So it’s been a while.” Sugu teases, as if reading your thoughts, you grimace and bury your face against him. “It’s fine, you know. It’s been like ten months for me.”

“You? How. Aren’t women all over you?”

“Not the one I want.” You feel the happiness swell at that, looking up at him in the night, the red light you all stop at casting a glow across his handsome face, bathing it in soft red when he looks at you. “I also only really have sex in relationships.”

“Me too, actually. Um… it's been like two years for me.”

“Shit, yeah?” You nod nervously, clearing your throat.

“Yeah, and before that? Freshman year of college. I’ve only been with a couple people, I know that sounds lame.” You’re fidgeting nervously with your hands.

“It’s not, not at all. You’re picky hmm?”

“I wanted some dark haired broody man, one who lived so far away.” Suguru’s jaw tenses, the light goes green but he’s kissing you before he pulls off, exhaling as your words hit him.

“You wanted me?”

“God yes. Want you.” You lean closer, kissing up his neck and unclipping your seatbelt. “Should I show you how much?”

“You are not going to suck me before I eat your pussy. I’m a gentleman, mmkay?” You giggle now, he peeks at you with a tortured expression. “Seriously, I won’t last one stroke if you don’t stop.”

“Oh fine. I was going to see if I have any skills left!”

“I’ll teach you again.” His husky voice melts you all over, you stop the teasing strokes on his hard length, much to his relief, as a couple of more strokes and he’d cum in his pants and embarrass himself. “Alright, let's get this next story going, yeah? We’re at prom now.”

“Oh…”

*****

The Fouth time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 18- Grade Twelve- Prom Night

Suguru couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping that night when he saw you, in your beautiful prom dress, this little red number that clung to you in places that wrecked his brain. You typically were a little more covered up, so for Suguru to see the love of his life’s body like this, it was difficult to function, like you had short circuited his brain, well what was left of it.

It’s about to be the end of high school, and you and Suguru had grown a little distant, despite still having a good friendship. Suguru had been dating this girl for a few months, and they had been intimate already, he had always hoped his first time would be you, but you also were dating someone again. Every time he would think for a moment he could admit his feelings, something got in the way.

At this point he had just tried to focus on being a good friend to you, to have you in his life in any capacity, the journals he penned growing dusty as he lived his life, with sports and school. Friends and a girlfriend, who was then in his arms, dancing with Suguru, despite the person that he wanted, you, were standing there all alone suddenly, tiny in the center of the dance floor.

Your date had left you, right in the middle of prom on the dance floor, you were mortified then, when Nanami came to your rescue, pulling you in his arms and looking at you with concern. “What happened?”

“Oh Nanami, you don’t have to dance with me.” You murmured, tears pricking your eyes, you felt Suguru’s glance as he danced with his pretty girlfriend, you hated that you wished you were her.

“Nonsense, tell me.” Nanami spins you a bit then, he’s gotten so handsome already, him Suguru and Satoru all had, they were so tall and towering over everyone at the school, buff with pretty features. It wasn’t fair how attractive they all were.

So why then, did it only hurt that Suguru was with someone? You didn’t know if you ever would get over it, some dumb kiss from eighth grade!? It had been over four years, nothing was ever, ever going to happen, why couldn’t you just give it up, why couldn’t you stop comparing any boy you date to the man that he was?

“He wanted to go too fast. I couldn’t.” Nanami’s jaw tensed then. “Nanami don’t beat him up!”

“I will, and I will get Satoru and Suguru-”

“No, no it’s fine! Swear. I love you though.” You leaned up and pecked his cheek, earning a blush on his features, you pulled back shyly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, darling. But I really think someone is mad now.” He teased, and you saw it, Suguru’s glare.

“We’ll never be anything.” Your whisper was broken, Nanami frowned at it.

“You don’t know that.”

“Look at who he’s with, and he never… I… Nanami I need a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.” He nodded then, and you strode past Suguru as the song ended, heading to sob your worries in the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back.” Suguru had said to his girlfriend, he ran down the empty halls of the school then, watching you turn the corner, hearing your sobs. He faced you then, watching mascara streak on your face, breaking his heart. “What happened, are you okay?”

“Just go!” You surprised him at your emotional outburst, shoving at him. “You just go be happy, okay?”

“But my friend is-”

“Nanami danced with me, I’m fine.” Your voice got so cold, and it made Suguru break down, stepping closer to you. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He whispered, his hands came to rest on your shoulders, which heaved with your breaths.

“Like you want me. When you never will. Stop giving me hope.” Suguru blinked in confusion at you, how could you think he didn’t want you!?

“What now? You think I don’t want you?” He brushed your hair back, your hands came to sit on his jacket, clutching the fabric, your corsage the same color as the red rose in his pocket, a trembling hand, as your breaths entwined.

“You’re with her.” You had whispered.

“And you were with him.” He said softly back, the hurt on your faces and in your voices so clear.

“Just go, before I do something stupid.” You said, sniffling then, but Suguru leaned even closer, lips a breath away.

“I’m not leaving you.” You tiptoed, dragging him down to you, kissing him deeply then, and it had been like everything clicked into place, like the world all around you all melted. When Suguru’s tongue devoured your mouth, like no kiss you had before, and his hands cupped your face. “Fuck.” He whispered softly.

“Mnh.” You were whining out weakly, Suguru’s hands came to your waist, dragging you against his hard frame, you were heating up like you never have, heart thudding in your chest, when he’s slipping them lower, to your hips. Your back arched, breasts brushing against his chest, earning his moan, as he lifts you then, right on the sink.

Your eyes meet, both of your breaths coming in pants, Suguru Geto is between your fucking thighs, in your school bathroom, and your mind is reeling. “I’ve always wanted you, okay? I have always wanted you.”

His words destroy you.

Are you just dreaming?

“You’re with someone. I can’t do this.” You panicked then, Suguru’s face fell, he had been ready to leave that girl then and there just for one more kiss from you, but you hopped down, touching your lips and shaking your head. “I’m terrible, you’re making me terrible!”

“You’re not terrible, I am. Please, I’ll make it right, don’t leave just give me time and I will-”

“No, I’m awful.” You hated yourself then, so willing to kiss a taken boy, just because he’s Suguru. “You can’t just do that… for me to…”

“Stop, please.” He had begged, gripping your wrist then.

“No. Forget it. Forget it ever happened, I’m sorry I did that.” He doesn’t want your apologies, he wants you, you who disappears that night, before he could stop you, leaving him with one realization.

Kissing you was Earth shattering, kissing you was everything he could ever imagine, and he knew then, he would never get over you.

*****

“I broke up with her, you know.” The hurt in Suguru’s voice is clear as you all come to a stop in front of his home, it’s beautiful and sleek, wide open floor to ceiling windows surrounding it, in a quiet street. You admire it when he opens the door for you, pressing your back against the car as he leans down. “I wanted so badly to finally tell you that night.”

“I ran off on you, you can’t blame yourself for that.” You cup his face now, brushing your lips against his softly. “I was terrified that I did it, that I could do that to another girl, even if it was just a kiss. It felt like the worst thing I could do, but the kiss was the best thing I’d ever felt.”

Your words take Suguru’s breath away. “For me too, it eclipsed anything… though I think kissing you now is even better.” He smiles just a bit, enjoying the blush on your cheeks. “Come inside, Princess.”

“Princess, is that what you call the ladies?” You tease, as he unlocks the doors, and you step in, it’s sleek and modern, but it’s warm and inviting too.

“Only you.” He admits, you feel it then, you’re alone in Suguru Geto’s home now, he’s taking off your jacket, hanging it, warming your chilled fingers with his hands ever so gently.

“Well I’m special then.” You tease, but he’s serious, when he nods, and you lean up, taking out the bun of his hair, letting it fall. You exhale. “You’re like a whole romance cover with it down.”

“A romance cover?” His lidded eyes assess you carefully, now taking out the few hair clips you had holding your hair half up. “You’re beautiful.”

“Sugu…” He’s kissing you again, your hands slipping under his sweater, dying to see him, to see all of him, when he pulls away just an inch. “No, no more stories! I need you to kiss a certain area.”

“I bet you do.” He laughs softly, easing back, enjoying your slumped shoulders and head falling back in frustration.

“Biggest tease of a man ever.”

“We’re almost done now though, want a drink? It’s actually almost midnight.” He muses, peeking at his silver rolex then.

“It is, huh? Alright you better get this last one going then.” Suguru leads you to the kitchen now, he pops a bottle of bubbly, it looks stupidly expensive, and tastes so sweet on your tongue, and as he gazes at you, you ache to tell him. “Sugu… I really should say something.”

“You can soon, I promise.” He plants a kiss on your lips, leading you over to his living room, he slides open the curtains, revealing the pretty night, where people are already lighting fireworks. He sits in a leather seat, patting his lap, you sit on one hard thigh, his arm comes around your waist.

“It's so natural.” You say, brushing your fingers along his hand.

“I know, it feels like you were always supposed to be here.” He sips his drink, setting it down, cupping your face delicately, thumb brushing a drop of champagne that spilled on your lip. “I never want you out of them.”

“Then keep me.” You say softly, he moans, kissing you again, big arm wrapping you so tightly. “Mmm, finish, I’m dying here.”

He chuckles a bit, feeling your heat on his lap, his hands slipping under your dress on the side of your thigh, making your body react. “Alright, the last story.”

*****

The Fifth time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 19- The Summer before Sophomore year college

You were leaving for France, you were leaving for at least two or more years, and you still didn't see Suguru Geto at the airport. With all your friends and family, you kept looking for him. You all had not talked much this year, not after prom, not after that kiss that had you reeling for days, you hadn’t even gone to school that last week, you’d spent it in your room, a mess.

You decided that night to only be friends, no matter what, you’d come back to school for the graduation and given him a hug and a bright smile, and neither of you brought it up again. The lingering tension eased somewhat, and in college you all were so busy you didn’t get together much, and then you got the news that you’d get to study abroad.

A dream of yours, always. All these years you’ve dreamt of going to Paris, of seeing the Eifell tower, of walking along the rolling hills and cobblestone streets, drinking wines and nibbling on croissants and watching the sunrise. The only thing missing from your dream?

Suguru next to you.

“He’ll come, I’m sure sweetie.” Your mom had said softly, you sighed as they sound that you have ten minutes to board over the intercom. “We’ll see you soon, promise to take care?”

“Promise, love you mom, dad.” They left, as did Nanami, then Shoko, Satoru stayed for a moment, madly texting Suguru over and over.

“He’ll come, I swear.” Satoru tried to assure you. You put a hand on his shoulder, shaking your head when the five minutes are announced. “I swear if he doesn’t-”

“Satoru, it's okay. You’re a good friend.” You hugged him tightly, he exhaled, wrapping arms around you, then he chuckled. “What is it?”

“He’s here. God with one minute to spare.” You turned and saw him then, his face so serious, wrapped up in a black coat as he ran up to you. “Alright, bye sweets.”

“Bye Satoru.” You kissed his cheek and he shoved at Suguru, whispering something in his ear, before running off and waving, leaving you two alone, as there are just three more minutes before you board.

The busy airport faded that afternoon, all the people running, hugging, boarding and leaving. It was chaotic, but it’s just Suguru and you, as he’s breathless, his silky dark locks falling just so out of their bun. You felt it then, the emotions, as he opened his mouth to apologize for being late, but you stopped him with a big hug. He wrapped you in strong arms, pulling you against his chest.

“I almost didn’t come.” He admitted, you look up at him with eyes glittering with tears now, broken hearted at the comment.

“What? Why?”

“It’ll hurt too much.” He admitted, his own eyes glittering violet, lidded as tears threatened to spill, tears he cried all morning thinking of you leaving.

“Oh Sugu, I’ll miss you so much.” There was so much more you wanted to say, you ached to say, but you knew you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t spill a bunch of feelings a minute before leaving the country. Feelings you doubted were returned.

“I’ll miss the fuck out of you. Barely even seen you this year.” You nodded in agreement, choking up when he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, cupping your face, and you ached to kiss his lips, he ached to kiss your lips. To tell you.

That he’ll always love you.

But he can’t do that, he can’t just ruin your opportunity, this is your dream, and he wants you to live it, despite it killing him, despite him longing to keep you by his side, forever. So he swiped those tears, smiling down at you, as the final minute was announced loudly, he felt his heart shattering, his mouth opening and closing, as it always does, because he was terrified.

Terrified to lose what he never had.

Terrified you wouldn’t feel the same, terrified also that maybe you did, and that he’ll mess up your opportunities, ruin your life.

Terrified of you getting on that plane.

Terrified.

“Suguru, I…” The announcer cut off your admission that day, he never heard it, he never heard that you said you love him.

“What?” He asked, as it quiets, and you feel a relief, having said it, even if he doesn’t know. You leaned up on your tiptoes, kissing his perfect high cheek bone, arm wrapping around him once more.

“I said something silly, Sugu. Just know, I’ll miss you most of all, out of everyone, I will.” He opened his mouth once more, only for you to place a kiss on it, quick, running off before you talked yourself out of it.

He called your name, and you turned as you’re about to board the plane, he feels like he has to tell you. He should, what if he never sees you again? But he waves at you, smiling just so. “I’ll miss you the most.” He responds, shouting across the airport now.

You smiled sadly, sniffling as you turned and left the love of your life, knowing he has no clue how you feel.

“I love you.” He whispered, watching your retreating figure, leaning against one of the pillars then, sobbing into his hand as your plane took off, not knowing when or if he would ever have a chance to tell you.

*****

You’re a mess now as you’re brought back to the present, Suguru pulls you against him tightly, feeling your every emotion rake through him. “I should have told you then.”

“Told me what, Sugu?” Your voice breaks as you ask him, and he smiles through his own tears when he can finally say those words.

“That I’m in love with you.” Your breath catches, entire body overheats, as your heart clenches with his words. “That I’ve been in love with you, since the day I first saw you reading that book outside. That your first kiss with me that day in middle school? I wrote in twenty different ways in my journal. That night Satoru kissed you, I should have told you that I’ve never been more upset.”

“Sugu…” He shushes you gently, shaking his head, standing you both up then, your hands go to his chest as he pulls you against him.

“The night of prom, I should have danced with you, I should have let you know then, that you were the one I wanted to be with me. I should have told you then that I was in love, but that day you left? I should have let you know that I wanted to be selfish, I wanted you to stay, by my side, every day. But I loved you so fucking much, I wanted you to have the best life, even without me.”

“Suguru Geto, my life was not great without you, it was lonely, it was empty.” You speak now, your hand enwrapping in his hair, as he gulps, leaning so close. “I should have told you that I loved you. That I’ve been in love with you since I met you.”

Suguru gasps, and shakes his head, your words a dream, your body against his some insane fantasy. “You… you love me too?”

“God, yes, I always have. There was never anyone but you for me, not in my mind, not in my heart. I said it at the airport, but you didn’t hear, and I thought… I can’t do this, before I leave for years. So I didn’t repeat it, but in my heart? It’s always been you.”

He slams his lips on yours now, kissing you desperate, hungry, backing you until your shoulder blades hit the cold glass, you gasp at it, as he hovers above your lips. “Will you be mine, Princess?”

“I’m already yours, Sugu.” You answer, he groans then, turning you, unzipping your dress slowly, his long slender fingers trailing your spine when he lets it fall to the floor in a pool around your ankles, leaving you bare as the fireworks blast outside, his lips pressing kisses along the nape of your neck.

“You wanted another place kissed?” He whispers, you feel your cunt throb around nothing, nodding, getting so nervous when he turns you, when he sees your beautiful body naked for the first time, feeling his gaze all over you. “Oh fuck you’re so perfect.”

He melts your every fear.

“I want to see you.” You slip his shirt over his head, heating up when you see his broad chest, his perfect chiseled muscles, flat tan nipples pierced with black barbells, your body clenches when he’s got you back against him, his hands gripping your ass, just your panties a barrier now. “You’re so gorgeous, look at you.”

“Look at you.” You grin when he kisses you again, and he grins, you both have never felt this, the bliss, the beauty, words you both kept for so long spilling over and over in quiet whispers, when he picks you up in his arms, so effortlessly. “I need you in my bed.”

You cling to him, your thighs wrapped on narrow hips, and he carries you to his room, beautiful and huge, so clean aside from a set of journals scattered all over his bedside table. He lays you down then, kissing between the valley of your breasts, peeling down your damp sticky panties slowly off your thighs. You’re trembling as he does, hips arching up.

“Suguru…” You’re whining out when he’s between your thighs, broad shoulders nudging them apart, and he sees you intimately, all of you. His fingers part your plump lips, watching arousal drool out of your little hole, he looks up at you with hungry violet eyes, licking his glossy lips.

“Is this where you wanted your kiss, Princess? Your pretty pussy?” He asks huskily, you nod shyly, you’re so cute he thinks, when he laps at your honeyed arousal, making you cry out in pleasure, gushing more wetness out, coating his lips and tongue. “Fuck you taste so good.”

He’s lapping at you more now, his tongue ring hitting your clit, making you jerk, crying out as he starts flicking it over and over, long fingers pressing into the plush of your thighs, keeping them open as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hands entangle in his long locks, pulling his hair and earning his moan, you let go then and he looks up.

“Pull it, Princess. Fuck my face.”

“Fuck your… face!? I…” You’re panting, his tongue flicks again, teasing, and you pull his hair then, putting him right there, he devours you then, his fingers bruising in their grip, the sounds of Suguru drinking you lewd and wanton in his quiet room, the fan spinning above doing nothing to cool you down. “Ah, m’close, Sugu! S’good at… you’re s’good I-”

You’re mumbling as he sucks your clit in his mouth, feeling it twitch when his barbell hits it again, and then he hums. He fucking hums on your clit, your juices flowing all over his mouth as you cum so hard you can’t form a thought, clinging to his hair and rolling your hips, unsure how he was even breathing as he’s buried his face, moaning as he drinks you all up.

The slurping sounds are ridiculous, when he leans over you, he kisses you, and you taste your sweetness, gasping out when he slips a finger in your eager hole, feeling the aftershocks pulse around his fingers. “That’s it, Princess, can you cum again f’me?” He whispers, kissing back down your body.

“Y-yes, yes. Ah!” Suguru is curling those long fingers in your gummy walls, so slick they’re slippery, his tongue circling your clit again, and you’re so sensitive you’re close stupidly quick, he smiles against your pussy lips when he watches you, shaking and falling apart for him.

“Good girl, you’re close hmm?” You nod weakly, he begins scissoring his fingers in and out of your squelching wetness, which pours everywhere down his hand, down his wrist, his cock aching as he grinds against the bed. He could cum just from drinking you, tasting you, feeling you cum again, gripping him like a vise. “Can you take three Princess, I need you ready.”

“Three? I… think? I haven’t…” You’re nonsensical, it’s been so long, and you have never felt anything like this in your experiences, Suguru’s so precise, overstimulating you to the point of tears when he slips a third in, leaning over you, hair falling to the side, his face coated in your slick.

“You’re so fucking tight, god. Hear yourself?” You nod weakly, as he stretches you with his fingers, your own jerkily unbuckling him, gasping when his cock leaves his boxers, thick, heavy and so long, you gulp at it, throat dry.

“You’re huge.” He blushes at that, where you thought he may brag or laugh, but he just nods, then moans, eyes fluttering shut when you stroke him, down his veiny length to his reddened tip, drooling precum. “Will this fit?”

“I’m gonna have fun trying.” He teases, his voice a whisper, he pulls back and slides his boxers and pants off then, and you drink in his body for a blissful moment before he’s on you, laying on top of you, you whimper.

“Lemme suck you, Sugu.”

“I won’t make it. Next time.” You stroke him, running your thumb on his tip, making him hiss, you lick his pearly precum. “You’re too hot, stop it.”

“Me hot? You.” He moans, kissing you deeply, lining his cock up then with your entrance, sliding it between your lips, you’re crying out, nails pressing into his back when he starts sinking in you, stretching you so much it burns. You’re so full of him just barely in, just the tip, you’re almost cumming again from it, your eyes flying up to his.

“Are you okay, Princess? Need more work up?” He’s so sweet, so caring you melt, but you pull him more, rolling your hips, watching his violet eyes roll back when you take more of him.

“I want all of you, Sugu. I can take it.” You whisper, he groans, one hand bracing himself up, the other cupping your face when he sinks in further, then in two more thrusts his tip is pressing your cervix, so intense you scream out. He’s kissing down your throat as your thighs shake around his hips.

You’re so full.

Too full.

But it’s so good, you feel him fucking everywhere, you’re dizzy when he begins to move, when he starts pumping inside you, your wetness dripping down his length, down his balls that are smacking your ass as he fucks into you more and more. Suguru can’t stand how good your walls feel tightening around him, how wet you are, the sounds of skin smacking mixing with your cries and his soft moans.

You lose your breath when he bottoms out, stuffing you full of his cock, when he slides a hand down, pressing into your clit, and your eyes lock. He watches you with parted lips, rolling his thumb on it as he rolls his hips just so, bringing you close again, but this time it’s so intense you can’t handle it, you’re whimpering and sniffling, eyes rolling back in your skull.

“Let me fuckin feel you cumming around me, that’s it. You’re taking me so good, love.” Suguru is murmuring in your ear, your nails leave crescent marks in his back, feeling the muscles roll and bunch as he fucks into you, curved tip dragging just so, and your orgasm starts hitting you in waves. “Oh, there it is. Good girl, so good.”

“Suguru f-fuck!” You’re sobbing out the words, he pulls back, your eyes lock, one of his hands entwined with yours over your head, as you try to focus, try to keep your eyes from rolling back. You’re weak, pathetically mumbling under him, cock drunk eyes lidded and heavy as you whisper. “L-love you, Sugu.”

“Love you, Princess. Love your body, your pussy, how your face looks when you cum? How wet you are.” He praises you, every bit of you then, before he shoves your thighs up so high, until your knees are on his shoulders, leaning over and folding you in half under his weight, hands gripping your face when you gasp. “Where do you want all this cum, Princess?”

You’re so flustered now, cunt spasming around him, his pelvis pressing against you, still snug in your drooling hole, so deep you can’t think of where he ends or you begin. “In me, Sugu. In me.”

“Fuck.” He growls that word then, pounding his cock now into your hole, slamming your abused cervix, balls slapping heavy where your cunt is dripping down your ass, down to his blanket. “You’re a mess, Princess.”

“F-fuck… you… I am… but…” He laughs just a bit, you glare, tightening, making him gasp, and glare as you giggle.

“Bratty Princess, hmm?” You bite your lip, then start drooling as he jerks his hips, hitting your spot again, throbbing inside you. “Can you take it hard, love?”

“Y-yes.” He smiles, kissing you so sweet, before he leans up and starts fucking you harder, faster, mean strokes of his fat cock in your sweet little pussy, hands shoving your thighs even higher, you feel him in your tummy when your head falls back, he watched the bulge move in your tummy, the site ending him then.

“F-fuck… Princess… gonna fill you so full.” He leans down, breath against your lips, you whimper and try to open your eyes as he cums so much, filling your cunt, coating you with his white hot ropes. His groans fill the room while he pumps it more and more, until you’re both oversensitive messes.

“You… feel so good in me…” You whine, tears falling when he finally slows, allowing you to get a breath, your thighs falling to the side now. He kisses you over and over, gently, softly, all over your face. You cling to him, struggling to catch your breath as you both come down. Suguru eases out, watching the mess of his cum and yours pour out of your little hole then.

“Oh my god, look at you, took so much cum in you, didn’t you?” He kisses your inner knee, you giggle, skin so sensitive you feel ticklish, he smiles softly, running his fingers across your skin.

“Ah!”

“Do you get like this after?” He muses, watching goosebumps form everywhere he touches, you shake your head then.

“Never, it’s never been like this for me.”

Suguru kisses your lower lip, exhaling sweetly on your lips. “It’s never been like this for me, either. God I can’t believe you’re here.”

Soon he’s got you cleaned up, and you’re wearing one of his sweaters, it’s swallowing you, so comfy and it smells just like him, you keep inhaling the sleeves as he makes you both coffee, you’re sitting on his balcony watching the fireworks. You’re enamored by them, but Suguru is watching you, your pretty face so enthralled by the sky, he can’t take his eyes off you.

You smile at him then, melting his heart, snuggling up to him and resting your chest, feeling his heart thud against your ear. “So where are you staying?” He asks, you lean up, sipping the coffee then sighing.

“My parents for now, ugh I know! But I need to find a place, the market is so crazy right now.”

“Stay here.”

You blink in shock, mouth opening. “Sugu, I’d love to but…”

“Then stay here. Home, where you belong.” He says softly, and you feel those tears again, tonight has been such a whirlwind, but this?

“Home.” You repeat softly, and he gently kisses your salty tears from your cheeks, as you snuggle even closer to him. “I feel like I’m home, Sugu.”

“Then stay with me. For as long as you want. Forever.”

“Yes.” You kiss his lips, and Suguru soon has you back in his bed, as you all get to know each other in every way, the fireworks are still thundering outside, as you get the best new years kisses all over your entire body.

And that was the last time Suguru tried to confess his feelings, but this time it worked, and you felt the same way the entire time.

A/N- This one was a lot of work so I really hope you all enjoyed, I love this format of storytelling, if anyone wants another similar let me knowww! Hope you enjoyed I got emotional w/this one, have an AMAZING new year!

Taglist: @higuchislut @cocoamide @imodii @makingtimemine @smolcooki33 @fushitoru @levislug @pe4rl-diver @indiewritesxoxo @uhnosav @candy-s72 @moonlitwitchdaisy @soobinsbreadscrumbs @inthedarkshadows000 @iheartkhloe @mawhoreagaa @yunho-leeknow @you-transfix-me @sugusmonkeyy @aldebrana @xixflower @witchbybirth @katsukihair23 @username23345 @ninikrumbs @stardust-mina

Post

[heyftinally]

I specifically want to elaborate on this part:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

As someone who has spent a LOT of time and effort on the nitty-gritty of quoting others in professional documents, I feel like I have a pretty good foundation on which to speak about this.

As a general rule, you want to directly quote the speaker as much as possible.

First and foremost, this is because you don't want to put words in their mouth or misrepresent what they said, as that's dishonest on your part as the interviewer/writer/etc, and harms your credibility. Remember the "Coolsville sucks" meme? Yeah, don't be that person. Quotes should be full and verbatim as much as possible, because anything else presents the possibility that you aren't accurately or fully representing what the speaker said.

The second reason is because when you re-word someone else's quote, you inherently inject your own biases into the new version you create. What that means is, consciously or unconsciously, you are influencing the way readers perceive what was said. This is bad because at best, you're speaking over the person who's quote you re-worded. At worst, you're manipulating your readers to think as you do, regardless of what the original quote said.

When presenting a quote from someone else, your job is to communicate as clearly as possible the speaker's original statement and intention. If giving the direct quote is not possible, careful paraphrasing is vital.

If I say "Sara James then went on to express her dissatisfaction with the pay she received", what would you assume the original quote is?

It could be "Yeah, I found out I was only getting paid ⅓ as much as my costar, even though I have 40% more screen time and I did almost all of my own stunts, so needless to say I'm not happy and I've been talking to my team."

But it could ALSO be "I was surprised when I found out what we were all getting paid. Not to sound like a total nepo baby or anything, but normally the projects I do pay more, y'know? But then I found out that the reason pay was lower for everyone - not just me - was because production was donating a whole bunch of money to the local children's hospital since we filmed in the lot next door. Which I thought was really cool of them! Like, obviously the hospital doesn't get much say in the filming, so I thought it was really cool of production to give back as, like, a thank you. Plus we got to go visit the kids, which was just amazing!"

TECHNICALLY in both of these, you could argue that displeasure about pay IS mentioned - but the specifics of the situation are entirely lost in the oversimplified paraphrasing, and THAT is why changing direct quotes can be dangerous.

So, yeah. I just wanted to elaborate on that particular point because it's one I covered *heavily* while in college. How you quote someone is important.

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[fairyysoup]

it will come back

part 3

a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie’s version)

pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader

summary: It's May Day, so naturally you'd have a hedonistic time. Except there's nothing natural about any of it.

cw: smut, consensual noncon is negotiated, primal play, literally i cannot stress how consensual it is, public sex (no one gets caught), knotting, biting, marking, possessiveness, reader is bitten by a werewolf, marriage proposal of sorts, dark themes, physical abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master, misogyny, minor character death, blood, fairytale au, some kind of historical fantasy period, inspired by The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter

a/n: hiiiiiiii :) do I like this? no, but I've been working on it for half a year and if I don't publish it now I don't think I ever will, so pls enjoy it and if you don't shhhhh don't tell me ok love you bye

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The bouquet of flowers on your doorstep is beautiful, and not lacking in symbolism. Purple lilacs, for the first emotions of love. Bluebells, for consistency and everlasting love. Red roses, for true love.

In the center is one singular, bright yellow marigold. You figure you know who left them.

You’re stunned by them when you first open the door. Your hairline, already covered by your flowers from last night, prickles with sweat. You had hoped for something, some kind of affection or gesture this year, as you do every year, but you hadn’t imagined it would actually… happen. You’d hoped a bit like a child hopes for rain on a clear day. It’s possible, but it would take a lot, in the grand scheme of things. 

You turn it over in your hands, your heartbeat thudding in your chest. You’re not sure what to think. You don’t know how Eddie would have known that this particular shack, in all of your Master’s sprawling estate, was yours. You don’t know what he means by this gesture. Is it an apology for turning you away last night? For embarrassing you? Is it a promise of some kind, that he intends to do something tonight? Is it a real declaration of love, or is it something else entirely? 

You sniff, getting a waft of fragrant lilac when you do, and turn to place it inside. There’s nothing to be done with it now, aside from finding a vase for it. You don’t know where Eddie lays his head at night. You don’t know where he is now, or where he’ll be later. You have to trust that he’ll find you. 

I’ll always come back to you. That’s what he said, before you walked away last night. You have to believe him, because otherwise you have nothing else.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” snaps a stern voice when you jauntily march out the door of your shack. Your Mistress stands with a sour look on her face, eyeing your day dress, free of an apron.

“To the town square, ma’am,” you tell her honestly, your head bowed. “For the… festival.” 

“Just because it’s May Day does not mean you are exempt from your daily chores,” your Mistress reminds you, shoving a pitchfork in your hand and ordering you to go bale the hay. 

You do as you’re told; you always do. You also know that you’ll probably be baling the hay until nightfall, when the festivities are sure to be picking up. 

It gives you time to think. You don’t know what you’d do if you ran into Eddie at the bonfire tonight. Or, maybe you do… you have some ideas about what you’d like to do, anyways. But you can’t speak for what he wants. 

He told you not to go near the woods, which he also said is where he lives. If he wanted to take you somewhere… wouldn’t it be to his own home? If so, has he already given you his answer, that he doesn’t want you in the way that you want him? It’s hard to believe, based on everything he’s done up to this point. 

Well after noon, and several hay bales later, you’re sure the maypole in the center of town has been decorated by now. You’re sure that the town square has been covered with flowers, and you’re sure that Victoria and Hyacinth and the rest of the maidens in the town have determined which eligible bachelor they want to celebrate with tonight. 

A flame of jealousy sparks in your gut. You hope that none of them have set their sights on Eddie. The mere thought of it is enough to make you see red. 

As the sun sets on the horizon, shining golden light in through the open doors of the barn, you’re sure that people have noticed your absence from the festivities. It’s common knowledge around town that your Master is crueler than most. Less lenient, more forceful. You’ve heard whispers behind your back, and you pay them no heed, usually. That the Master intends to take you for a wife after your Mistress dies, whenever that may be. That he keeps you close for his own twisted purposes. And, you suppose, there’s merit to those rumors.

You’re not unaware of the way the Master sets his eyes on you sometimes. He isn’t good at hiding it, you should say. Not that he really tries; on more than one occasion, you’ve incurred the Mistress’s wrath simply because the Master stared at your chest for a little too long. Yes, you could say that the Master is attracted to you, in some way. And, once, you might have counted yourself lucky.

If he wasn’t attracted to you, he could be crueler. And you could do worse than to catch the eye of a powerful, wealthy landowner. If he married you, you would be financially secure, and you would never have to seek a place to live. You would never worry about being labeled a whore or being thrown out on the street. At one point, you’d accepted that this was the best case scenario for you.

But something has changed your perspective, recently. Something that has dark eyes and a mischievous smile and rings on his fingers. Fingers that, you know, are very skilled.

And what if… What if you were to marry Eddie? As you had imagined in the field last night, your mind wanders to the idea of being Eddie’s wife. Tending to his house, you imagine, a stone cottage in the woods. To lie in bed with him on a rainy night, warm against his burning chest. Being able to gaze into those sparkling eyes as often as you like, being able to wake up to him. 

For the first time since you were a young girl, you really consider the possibility of being… happy. Your happiness. The idea of a happy future is something that has been such a foreign concept for so long, it almost makes you uncomfortable to dream about it. 

When you were little, you’d dream about being a beautiful princess in a tower, saved by a knight in shining armor, who also happened to be a prince. These dreams went away once your family sold you into indentured servitude; princesses don’t work. Princesses aren’t covered in shit and filth on festival days, baling hay in a cow pasture. Princesses would be dancing the maypole and crowned the may queen–

“And I crowned her my sweet queen of May.”

–Princesses would be showered with flowers and gifts–

Bluebells for consistency and everlasting love.

–Princesses are whisked away in the night from their troubles and marry princes. 

I am not a princess.

You throw your pitchfork down beside the last bale of hay. The sun has set, finally, and the moon is already high in the sky. The bonfires in the town square will be burning down. If Eddie was there, he’s sure to have found someone else by now. 

Your cheeks, dusted with dirt, feel crusty and filthy when you cry. You are no princess, despite the crown of flowers on your head. Eddie isn’t going to save you. And really, what would it say for your honor if he did? Can you not defend yourself? Are you so helpless that you need a strange man from the woods to save you from your life?

Marching out of the barn, you feel hungry, and tired, and you figure that you would probably be best suited to go to bed. But there will be food and drink at the festival, even if it’s late. There could still be time to meet someone, anyway.

“And where do you think you’re going?” It’s a deep and gruff voice that asks this time, and you’re about sick and tired of hearing that same question. But your irritation is easily replaced by dread, when you turn to find your Master standing by the entrance to the barn you just stormed out of.

“The bonfire,” you reply, with less heat than intended. “It’s May Day, and I’ve done my chores.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” your Master says. 

He’s not a tall man, but what he lacks in stature he makes up for in intimidation. He has cold blue eyes and a sneer that could freeze a King in his place. You know what it’s like when he’s on the other side of a cane, and you don’t relish the idea of a beating just because you wanted to go to a festival. When the Master steps up to you, he smells like liquor, so strong it stings your sinuses.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?” He growls at you, a nasty sounding thing in the back of his throat. You flinch. “That girl from the Werther’s house– Victoria, is it? She told me all about you and some… some boy in the woods. The one they call the Beast in town. Is that what you’re doing now? Dallying with any boy who comes around? Even ones from the woods?” 

Your cheeks burn hot, and you step back just as he steps forward, looming over you in his drunken state. “No, I… I don’t dally–” 

“Not from what she says,” he snaps back, and you briefly consider wringing Victoria by her stupid neck. And then you think, Hyacinth would have never betrayed me. “Running around in your night clothes, fooling around with some woodland freak. I ought to whip you where you stand.” 

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as he backs you into a corner. The fence for the pig pen meets the edge of the barn where you end up, your back hitting the barn door and earning a loud creak from the hinges. 

Your Master reaches for you with a snarl. Instinctively you curl into a ball, your arms coming up to protect your face and neck. Your instincts don’t take into consideration that he doesn’t have a cane in his hand, and he’s too drunk to throw a good punch. You cry out when his hand clamps tightly around your wrist, and he yanks you toward the barn. 

“What are you doing?” is your undignified shriek when he throws you into the barn, and you fall into the pile of hay bales you just stacked.

“You’ll sleep with the cows tonight,” the Master growls, and spits a glob of phlegm at your feet. “It’s what you are.” 

“No, please–” you rush forward just as the barn doors slam shut in front of your face, locking you in darkness with the stench of manure and dirt. The cows are down at the other end of the barn; you hear them jostling unhappily in their restraints as you bang on the door with the flat of your hand. 

You finally let yourself cry. You’re filthy. Covered in sweat and grime, mud all over your skirt from working all day, the crown of flowers on your head wilting. You don’t know what you expected. You’re not Cinderella; you don’t have a fairy godmother, and you don’t have anyone coming to save you and let you go to the ball. This isn’t a fairytale. The stories you were told when you were a child were just that.

Even as you continue to bang on the door, you’re already starting to accept it. You won’t be getting out of here anytime soon. They’ll let you out of the barn in the morning, sure, but you’re not going to leave this farm, or your Master, or this life of servitude until you’re dead, or otherwise ripped from your mortal life. 

Then there’s a scuffling. On the other side of the door, you hear your Master shout once, shortly, before it’s muffled and frantic. Footfalls in the dirt. A growling, snarling. Yelping. And then something bangs on the barn door, making it jostle so hard you scream and jump back. 

Your Master, just on the other side of the door, like he’s been thrown against it, screams loudly. Something snarls, and then there’s a wet squelch, like the sound of something alive being torn open. A chicken being gutted. You stand away from the door, your eyes bulging in the darkness, your hands clamped over your mouth to quiet your frantic breathing. 

Something just killed your Master. The fact sinks like a stone in your stomach. He’s no longer shouting. There’s no movement, nothing to indicate that there’s anything alive on the other side of the door anymore. Only dead silence. 

And then another scuffle. A heavy thud, like something being thrown aside. And then something, or someone, is unlocking the door.

In the darkness, you panic. You back away quickly, your hands searching, feeling for anything that you can grab to defend yourself with. You find nothing, but collapse into the stack of hay bales just as the doors swing open, and you come face to face with your Master’s killer. 

“Eddie?” 

It’s him, all right. He stands with his arms outstretched to either side, holding the barn doors open with the light of the full moon shining in behind him. You don’t know how it’s happening, but his eyes reflect the moonlight with a bright red hue to compliment the red blood that’s all over him. 

It drips down his face, his neck, his chest. It’s on his hands. When he smiles at you, it’s in his teeth.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, and you feel like your heart could leap out of your chest with how hard it pounds in its cage. He tilts his head, seeing your tear streaked face, the way you cower against the bales of hay in your muddy dress. “Rough day?”

“You– you–” and your brain has stopped working. You know what you’re looking at; Eddie killed your Master. Eddie is covered in his blood. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, is a killer, a murderer, looming over you with a smile that could scare ghosts back into their graves. 

“Yeah, me.” He takes a step forward. You scream and jump back, putting a bale of hay between you and the man covered in blood at the door. Eddie puts his hands up in defense. “I’m not going to hurt you, princess–”

“Stop calling me that.” You grab your pitchfork off the ground, and hold it up at him. “You killed my Master. I don’t even know how you did it– but do you know what that means?” You thrust the pitchfork at him. He jumps back. “Do you?”

Eddie blinks. “It means… you’re free?” 

“It means I get passed off to his next of kin,” you snarl at him. “Like a fucking cow. That’s all I am to them. I’m cattle. And the next person who gets me may decide to slaughter me. Do you understand?” You jab the pitchfork at him again, and he backs away into the moonlight. “Why would you do that to me?” 

“Because he hurt you!” Eddie retorts, flailing his outstretched hands, exasperated. “Because he locked you in a barn! I could– I could smell the rage on him. He wasn’t going to leave you here, he was going to do something worse. Just give it another drink, he would have been back out here. And I wasn’t going to let it happen. I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch it anymore.” He drops his arms with a sigh, and his hands smack loudly against his thighs. “You’ve helped me twice. Let me at least return the favor.” 

“I helped you once,” you snap.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, sweet pea. Twice. You just didn’t know it.” 

He raises his right hand, his bloody fist tight. He shakes his arm until his sleeve falls, and exposes the light pink scrap of fabric tied around it– the one you swore was yours. The one you swore you tied around the leg of the wolf you nursed last month. 

“You–” the pitchfork in your hand lowers. You think you’re halfway to crazy. Or, maybe you’re already there. “You’re the wolf.” 

Eddie nods. “I am.”

“You’re a… a wolf-man?” You’re shaking your head, but even so, the entire thing makes sense. It’s why you’ve been so suspicious, why something seemed so off about him. Why his smile is always so sharp. Why you always feel a little bit like a frightened animal around him, in spite of it all.

“I am,” Eddie repeats, and he turns to look over his shoulder.

You shake your head. “I don’t believe in that. I don’t believe in fairytales.”

“Doesn’t matter what you believe in, sweetheart.” He spits something out of his mouth, grimacing as he licks his teeth. “The moon will peak at midnight, and then I change. I need to be far away when that happens.” He looks at you, his eyes pleading. “Come with me.” 

As incredulous as you are, as slowly as you’re coming to terms with what’s been in front of you the whole time, you still drop your pitchfork to the ground. “Where?” 

“To the woods,” Eddie shrugs, his smile disarmingly sweet beneath all the blood. “Maybe I can be your new Master, hm?” 

“Fuck you, Munson.”

“That’s the name of the game.”

“You’re a goddamn demon. I shouldn’t have trusted you– I shouldn’t have talked to you.” 

Eddie crosses his arms. “Listen. I think God’s got a sick sense of humor; otherwise, I wouldn’t be what I am, and you’d be a lady in a castle far away from any of this. So why don’t we make the best of a bad situation, hm?”

You narrow your eyes at him. You can feel yourself doing something stupid even before you say it. “I’m… listening.”

“Great!” He claps his hands and launches into a spiel that leaves you wondering if he’d spent the entire time since last night concocting it. “I’m gonna turn into a rabid beast in, oh, I dunno, maybe two hours. Give or take. But if you want to stay in my home, safe, where wolf-me can’t work a latch, I’ll be back in the morning. And then we can get married and fuck and have lots of babies and be that old couple who lives in the woods. Or something. Really, I haven’t thought that far. Maybe just stay the night? Or forever. I’m not picky.”

You’re frowning when he turns to you with a half-crazed grin. “That’s the worst proposal I’ve ever heard.”

Eddie gestures to himself. “Not exactly a poet.”

“So, what are you, then?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “No riddles this time. Tell me, honestly. What are you?”

Eddie sighs. He tilts his head to the ceiling, kicks the ground with the heel of his boot, and then he says, “I’m a monster. I’m a man. I’m a woodworker and I’m a charlatan. I cheat, I lie. I turn into a wolf and I kill men because they’d do the same to me. I can’t help it, comes with the territory. I have a family of other wolves who look after me and I look after them, and you’ll meet them if you want. But…” He peers at you for a moment, and then averts his gaze, “But really, I’m yours. I’m in love with you. I have been since you helped me that time Thatch shot me, and I’ll be yours even if you run to town and turn me in, and I’ll be yours if they hunt me down and throw me on a pyre. That’s all I am, really.”

You can barely find it in you to breathe. You’re still shaky on your feet and you don’t think you’re quite in your right mind, but you find yourself thinking about the last night, about his hands and his lips on you, about how it was so easy for you to get lost in him. How you spent all night and all day thinking about him, wanting him, wishing for precisely this. 

Just not with the caveat of fur and four legs. 

“You’re looking at me funny,” he muses, his eyes flaring. His smile is wider than it should be. His teeth are more pointed than they should be. 

“I’m not looking at you any sort of way.”

He laughs. It runs clear down your spine and shudders through your limbs. You have to swallow past the dryness in your throat. 

“Always so proud– you know you don’t have to stand on ceremony anymore, right?” He tilts his head at you. “There’s no one around to judge you here, princess. Least of all me.”

 “I’m not standing on ceremony,” you press, but you feel like an indignant child the more you argue with him. “If I was, I wouldn’t be talking to you. I’d be trying to get out of here.”

“You want to leave?” Eddie asks, his voice clear and frank. He points over his shoulder. “Don’t let me stand in your way.”

He holds his hands out at his sides, palms up. His fingernails are long and sharp– like he’s slowly transforming into a monster, right in front of you. He stands aside, and there’s a clear path between you and the door. 

You could leave. You could run. You could find a place to run and hide, disappear by morning. 

But you don’t. You don’t want to leave. Not him. Not yet. 

His eyes are different now as they peer at you. They seem iridescent, glinting in the darkness. He sizes you up and down, and you feel more and more like prey. You… should be scared.

“Am I to take that as a no?” Eddie asks after a lengthy pause. 

You don’t exactly have anything to say in your defense. If he was wrong, you would already have tried to bolt. 

“Will you chase me?” You watch his eyebrows shoot up when you ask the question. You wet your lower lip with your tongue, an inch away from gnawing on it. “If I run, will you come after me?”

“Do you want me to chase you?” 

Your breath sticks in your throat. It would be so easy to just say yes. Yes, I want to be chased by you. I want to be pursued and I want you to make me yours in every way possible. But the words won’t come. They can’t come, as if it would soil you just to say them. It would be admitting defeat.

“I don’t want to be given a choice.” 

Eddie shakes his head, his frown of confusion deepening. “You always have a choice with me.”

“Eddie,” you say slowly, inclining your head. “I don’t. Want. A choice.” You stare at him heavily, willing him to gather your meaning without having to say it. I want you to force me.

You watch as the fire of recognition ignites in his eyes, and he opens his mouth with a noise of understanding. Ah. Yes. This is your choice. He smirks at you, then looks down at his foot as he digs his heel idly into the dirt. 

“I’ll count to three,” Eddie mutters without looking up at you. Still, you can see the ghost of a playful smile on his face. “One-”

You take off like a shot. You don’t have time to hear him continue counting. You’ll probably make it to the pasture before he catches up with you, unless he’s stronger than a normal man. If the bloodied carcass of your Master is anything to go by, though, you imagine that he is. 

You don’t make it to the pasture. You don’t even get close. You come to the doorstep of your pathetic little shed, your feet slamming the dirt, kicking up dust all the way, the air in your lungs burning with the labor of your breath, when your back is hit by something solid and unforgiving. Your legs are ripped out from beneath you, and you topple to the ground in front of your door with a thud.

“How fitting,” Eddie’s voice says in your ear, deep and husky, while his hand cups your chin, yanking your head up from the dirt. “Right where we met, isn’t it?”

He crowds you, half-laying on top of you, his weight pressing into your back and his hips meeting yours from behind. You gasp at the feeling of sharp claws pricking your cheeks where he holds your jaw in his hand, while the other creeps beneath your skirt and along your thigh.

“I never got to finish what I started last night,” Eddie purrs, his voice resonating in his chest. It’s enough to make you shiver, while goosebumps erupt on your skin. “I never like to leave a lady wanting.”

He scrapes his nails along your inner thigh, coaxing your legs apart. You jerk a little in his grip and whine when his claws dig in. Your face burns, your skin feeling like it’s on fire. It would be so easy for someone to find you here, flat on your stomach with a monster at your back. 

A whimper escapes your lips when his finger circles your clit, just like he did the night before. You shouldn’t want him, especially not like this, but it’s almost as if everything about Eddie begs you to go against your own nature. It began when you invited a wild animal into your home. It doesn’t seem like it will ever end. Nor will your want for him. 

“Eddie,” you sigh out shakily, and he shushes you while his finger plays through your wetness. He touches you like he knows exactly how to set you on edge. He’s cruel with his gentility, even while you want him to tear you apart. 

You arch against him, driving your ass back against his hips. You feel his cock press against you through the layers of fabric still separating you, and it makes you want to whine in frustration like a spoiled brat. It’s not enough to have him here, pinning you, touching you. You need him everywhere. You need him to consume you entirely. 

Gasping, you open your mouth to say something else– urge him or taunt him, you’re not sure which– but his hand clamps down over your mouth before you can manage it. 

“I told you to be quiet,” he growls, grinding his hips down into yours harder. “I’ve already been shot once, I don’t need it to happen again because you can’t keep it down.”

Eddie flips your skirts up over your hips, and your bare skin meets the cool air. There’s a moment of heavy anticipation, of Eddie’s harsh breathing against your ear, of the scrape of his trousers against your thighs. And then there’s the press of his cock against your entrance, and you tense. 

“Do you believe in me now?” Eddie whispers in your ear. His voice has taken on a ragged tone, like he can hardly contain the animal lingering beneath his surface. His fingers have just started to tremble against your cheeks– just enough to let you know that he, damn him, is holding himself back. 

Your eyelashes flutter. You have a mind to grind against him, to spur him on. “I have to, don’t I?”

He chuckles, and the sound raises goosebumps on your skin. Your heart pounds in your chest, and Eddie takes a long, slow inhale. “Your heart’s beating so fast, princess. Something on your mind?”

“Fuck you,” you seethe. 

“As you wish.”

He grabs your hips and pushes in deep. You cry out, digging your fingers into the dirt to steady yourself, scrabbling for a sense of stability. Eddie holds you close by the throat, pulling out and pushing back in with the same brutal force. 

The sounds coming from your mouth can’t be real, can’t be you. You aren’t proud of yourself, but you can’t stop while he’s being relentless, fucking into you hard and fast. 

Eddie groans low in your ear, his hand around your throat slipping down. His claws wrap around your neckline and he tears through the fabric, ripping the layers of clothing to expose your shoulder to him. You feel the whisper of his sharp teeth along your skin, tickling at your pulse point, and it’s all you can do not to cum right then. 

Your eyes roll, your back arching against him. “Eddie, I–”

“Don’t be afraid,” Eddie tells you. His words vibrate on your skin. “I won’t bite.”

You reach back, and your hand finds his hair, thick and curly between your fingers. “I want you to,” you pant, while your orgasm mounts, pleasure gathering between your legs with every move that he makes. You moan, your breath catching in your throat. “Please, Eddie–”

His nose pressed to your shoulder, Eddie shakes his head. You can’t see the way that his pupils dilate, his limbs shaking with the effort of holding back. 

Instead, his hand slips between your legs again, and when he circles your clit with his gentle touch and his sharp claw, you cum with a silent scream of relief. 

He keeps going, hard and fast as you ride out your orgasm. And finally, Eddie lets out an animalistic growl loud enough to shake the earth, and he spills inside you. 

Your legs threaten to buckle out from under you, but Eddie catches you at the last second just before you both slump to the damp ground. Gasping for breath and still coming down from your high, you barely have the energy to object when your clouded mind registers the swell of a knot keeping him inside you. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, until you fit against him like the missing piece of a puzzle. The full moon overhead douses the pastures with silver light. Far off in the tall grass, crickets sing. 

“You didn’t bite,” you croak, your voice sounding distant and hazy. He shifts, and it makes you squeak when it moves the knot inside you. 

“Didn’t want to do it to you if you didn’t mean it,” he murmurs. His breath is hot on the back of your neck, and you find yourself wishing that you could turn and look at him in the moonlight. 

“I meant it,” you tell him earnestly, running your hand along his arm. “I want… I want it. Make me yours, Eddie.”

He makes a weak noise in his throat, his arms tightening around you even further. “Don’t say that unless you want me forever.”

You laugh. It surprises you, but you can’t help it. “I don’t think I could let you go even if I wanted to, baby.”

He stills for a moment, like he’s trying to process what you’re telling him. “So… so you’ll come with me?”

You sigh, with a gentle smile curling at your lips. You consider the dreams you’ve had, of running away with him, of living with him, of having him whisk you away like a knight in shining armor. Even if he isn’t a knight, it is what you’ve been wishing for, isn’t it?

“Yes,” you tell him softly. “I’ll come with you. Just make me yours.”

When he pulls your hair away from your neck, Eddie’s touch is so tender that it could make you cry. His lips touch your skin, and your eyes flutter shut in anticipation of the sting of his teeth. 

“I’ll always be yours,” he tells you again, this time so quiet that it sounds like a prayer for you alone to hear. “Always.”

And when Eddie sinks his teeth in, the world goes black.

You wake with your head on a pillow of soft cotton and your back on a mattress filled with hay.

Wherever you are, there isn’t much light in the room. There’s an open window somewhere over your head; you hear birds outside. The forest sings in the morning. 

The cabin you’re in is much like your own, except it affords more room to move around. The floor has a decadent rug thrown across it, something that you wouldn’t expect a cabin like this to have in its inventory. It isn’t much bigger than your own shack. You old shack, now, you suppose. 

The more you look around, the more things seem… eclectic, to say the least. The bed is simple wood, but the blankets and linens are fine, like something an aristocrat would use. The ring dish on the window sill is an abalone seashell, shining iridescent purple and blue in the morning light to reflect the rubies and sapphires on the rings inside of it. The humble dining table is worn and covered in knicks and scratches, but the silverware is finer than any you’ve ever seen. 

When you finally pull yourself out of the bed and take a look around, you see Eddie’s burgundy blouse tossed across a rocking chair in the corner by the hearth. So, you conclude, this is Eddie’s domain. His home. The cabin in the woods you’d been dreaming of. 

And with a bit more snooping, you conclude something else. Eddie Munson is a goddamned thief. 

He has pocket watches engraved with names of nobility from all around the country. The platter on the table is monogrammed H.R. Cheshire. Eddie’s wardrobe has a large amount of men’s and women’s clothing piled in it, and all of it is fine silk, taffeta and lace– not something a simple woodworker living in the woods would be able to afford. 

You stumble to the door almost like you’re drunk, and when the door bangs open on its hinges, it’s Eddie who startles backwards in the bushes this time. He yelps, and you see just enough of him to catch him losing his balance and toppling ass-over-head over a log past the treeline. 

“For god’s sake, Eddie,” you chastise him. 

“Wasn’t expecting that,” he retorts, his head popping up over the top of the bush. He’s cleaned himself up, at least, so his face isn’t covered in blood anymore. He still looks so beautiful, though, and you still feel your heart skip a beat to look at him.

“You– you’ve stolen half of everything in here.” You gesture vaguely over your shoulder at the cabin. Your shoulder aches and stings when you move it, leading you to believe that everything that happened in the night was not a dream. It was real. 

Everything you’ve thought didn’t exist is real. 

Eddie is just a flicker of a shadow through the trees as he rounds one and steps into full view. “Had to make a living, somehow.” 

“And yet you walk around in the woods naked?”

He holds his hands out at his sides. “Um. Didn’t have time to get changed after I brought you here. It's kinda… it’s hard to hold it off when it happens.”

“When you turn into a wolf, you mean?”

“Yes.” 

You nod slowly, trying to only look at his face. It’s inordinately difficult. “Am I going to turn into a wolf?”

“Eventually.” Eddie tilts his head and looks at you warily. “Did you… not want it after all?”

“No, I–” you pause. It’s hard to put into words what you’re feeling, but you know it’s not regret. Your voice wobbles when you finally say, “I think it’ll just take some time to get used to it. Things have been the same for so long, and now…”

“Hey,” Eddie says, sounding almost the same as you had when he showed up the first time, crying at your door. He holds out his hand, his palm facing upward. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Okay? Let me help.”

You look at him through misty eyes, and you almost laugh at how blatantly your roles have reversed, now. You, standing at his door, crying. Him, trying to be of service to you. 

You give him a meager smile, placing your hand in his. “Can I stay?”

“Stay forever,” Eddie tells you, looking up at you with kind eyes. “But I can’t promise I’ll be polite for all of it.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m in love with you,” you admit, and watch as he absorbs your words slowly, almost as if he never imagined he’d hear you say it. 

And when he kisses you this time, you don’t even mind the sharpness of his teeth.

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter VII - Fill Me With Love

Summary: After catching sight of you several times being a sweetheart towards different children, Aemond wishes for a babe of his own, to finally take a step further into growing your family, and he is hells bent on doing it tonight.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 3,8k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); p in v sex; fingering; switch!Aemond (in this chapter he is truly dom!Aemond); breeding kink

Notes: Okay, this was kind of rushed, but it is because I’m about to go on a trip until the new year and I didn’t want to end the year without updating this story. So here it! Please let me know what you think!!

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

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It was driving him mad. Absolutely downright insane. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

In all his years living inside the Red Keep in King’s Landing, Aemond had never realized how many children inhabited the castle along with everyone else. Most of the time the children, especially the babes, were kept separated from court, and even when the older ones did attend, they remained quiet because, as his mother had once told him many years ago, ‘children were meant to be seen, not heard’. 

Even then, he didn’t typically interact with most of the kids. Sure, he enjoyed the company of his sister’s children, Jaehaera in particular, but other than that he did not really speak to other people below adolescence. What he didn’t account for was how much you seemed to spend your time with children.

Everywhere he went you seemed to have a child not too far from you; either a babe in your arms, a toddler propped on your hip or a child clinging to your skirts, you seemed to attract every child in the vicinity. When you weren’t helping Rhaenyra with Visenya, cradling her close to your chest, you were teaching Aegon and Viserys how to bond with their dragons. You even started spending time with Helaena’s children; more than once he caught you in her chambers, playing with Jaehaerys or brushing Jaehaera’s hair, or bouncing Maelor in your arms. Sometimes he even saw you interacting with one of the servants’ children, giving them your undivided attention.   

The most unexpected for him, however, was what the sight of you with a child, whoever they were, made him feel. Anytime Aemond would lay eyes on you laughing and making silly faces towards a child, or consoling a crying infant his heart clenched and something in his stomach twisted. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, couldn’t properly give this feeling a name, until the day he caught you bouncing Visenya in your arms, humming under your breath. A lullaby, he recognized, one his own mother used to sing to him many years ago. That’s when it hit him fullforce, the meaning behind the heat pooling low in his stomach. spreading to his chest, crawling up his neck and warming his cheeks. 

He was horny. 

Aemond was honestly taken aback by how turned on the thought of you with a child, more specifically, with his child made him feel. He felt his cock twitch at the image his mind conjured: you, carrying his child in your womb, stomach swollen and heavy. As your hums gave way to words, outright singing to your sister now, the image changed, now another child, a toddler, a mop of white hair atop their head and eyes so much like yours, sprawled at your side on a bench, head on your lap as you read to both them and the child still inside you, book propped on your prominent bump. The strength of the pleasure brought to him by the thought was so great he had to lean against the nearest wall in order not to fall over.

The two of you had been married for over a moon already and his seed had yet to take root, as the ladies in court insisted on reminding you, much to your visible displeasure. It wasn’t for lack of trying though, oh no, but sometimes these types of things take time, as Rheanyra reminded you once. But even her words could not prevent the disappointment that had taken over you once your moonsblood arrived a little over a sennight after the wedding. Aemond had never seen you this disappointed before, not even when your mother had scolded you after finding out you had kicked Aegon years before (even though he very much deserved it), and you had spent the rest of the day in quiet solitude. He had eventually found you sulking in the Keep’s library, thumbing at a book he knew you had already read, having skipped supper.

“Wife.” he had greeted “You were missed at dinner.”  

“I am not hungry.” you pouted, and had you not been thoroughly upset, he would have found it charming.

Sighing, he had taken a seat next to you, gently grabbing one of your hands and pulling it towards his lips. 

“We can try again.” he laid a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“I know. I just-” it was your turn to sigh then “I was just so hopeful.”

“I know. As was I.” his thumb started caressing the back of your hand “But we keep trying. We do not stop trying until I have fucked my seed so far into your womb it has no other choice but to take root.”

You chuckled at his antics, growing flustered at his crass words.

“And besides,” he placed a short yet hungry kiss upon your lips “it is not like the ‘trying’ part is displeasurable for either of us, if my memory serves me right. You were actually quite…” he mockingly paused, pretending to look for the right word “vocal about it last night.”

Although your cheeks were flaming with embarrassment, you had kissed him fiercely in return, not necessarily disagreeing with him. He then proceeded to take you right there in the library, with you bent over the hardwood table, the book you had been previously reading long forgotten. Aemond was sure grandmaester Orwyle had entered the room at some point but he couldn’t bring himself to care a single bit, too distracted by his cock nestled upon the damp warmth of your cunt.  

At the time he hadn’t realized how much the thought of you carrying his child impacted him, but now? It was all he could think about. It was a raw, almost primal need, one which set his blood aflame, like dragon fire. He wanted, no, needed it. At the same time, a softness enveloped him when such thoughts arose in his mind, him caressing your swollen stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your, his, unborn child; sleeping on his back with a tiny babe sprawled on his naked chest, right over his heart, one of his large palms over their back, covering the entirety of their little body and protecting them from the dangers of the world. 

It all came to a head one afternoon, his sparring session with Ser Criston running later than he predicted, causing him to miss lunch with you. So he set out to find you, intent on making up for his mistake, but he couldn’t find you anywhere inside the palace. After inquiring about your whereabouts to some of the servants they pointed him in the direction of the gardens. And the sight that greeted him almost knocked him off his feet.

You were sitting under the weirwood tree, your back against the harsh bark, Helaena slumped against the tree next to you, deep in slumber. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera laid at your side, both with a head laying against each of your thighs, while you cradled baby Maelor with one arm against your chest. Your free hand was interwoven in his niece’s soft locks, caressing her scalp. For a moment he figured all three children, like their mother, were asleep in your lap, and although that seemed to be the case for both his nephews, he soon heard Jaehaera’s soft, tiny voice speak up to you, her eyelids heavy and droopy.

“I ran into Lady Baratheon after tea.” she said “Me and brother were running in the halls and I bumped into her legs.” 

Aemond watched as your lips curled into a smirk, picturing the two children running around and causing mischief, much like the two of you once did in your youth.

“And what did she say?” you questioned.

“She went” and the little girl produced a scoffing sound, almost ridiculous coming from her “and said we should not be running, that we could hurt someone.”

It was your turn to scoff then, as if the notion that two small children could hurt a grown adult was ludicrous. 

“She looked angry and said I should stop behaving like that, that it was too un… unla…”

“Unladylike?” you supplied for her, your smirk no longer present, a gloom look crossing over your features.

“Yes, that!” she giggled, then her expression turned slightly sour “She said it is no wonder I am so q… qu…” 

“Queer?” you gritted out.

“Yes, that I am queer just like my mother.”

Aemond felt his blood boiling in his veins at the jab directed not only at his niece, but also at his sister. It was true that Helaena was different, had always been, but it never ceased to enrage him how the people, and mostly, the women on court would treat her. The younger ones would exclude her from their endeavors at best, and at worst they would pretend to be interested in her and then proceed to whisper foul things about her behind her back. The older ladies would often treat her like a child, infantilizing her and speaking to her in a sickeningly sweet and paused tone that he knew she loathed. It was one of the reasons he was so thankful for the way you treated his sister; unlike his mother, who pretended nothing was different about her, you acknowledged it and embraced Helaena’s differences, the things that make her who she is. He was glad that Helaena found a dear friend in you, not failing to notice that since your arrival at the Keep she had been visibly more relaxed and less lonely.

“Jaehaera.” he had barely noticed that your fingers had stilled their movement in her hair or that your expression had hardened “You know what you should do next time Lady Baratheon, or anyone for that matter, says something like that about you or your mother?” 

“What?”

Your previous smirk returned to your features then, mischief swimming in your eyes.

“You kick them in the shin.” you shook your head “Or better yet, you call for me and I will do it for you, that way you will not get in trouble.”

For a single, brief moment, Aemond could have sworn his heart ceased beating, were it not for the loud ringing in his ears. Warmth spread through his body, starting from his chest and travelling up his neck, to his cheeks heating up the tip of his ears, all the while that same blood boiled in his veins, traveling down and making his cock twitch.

For a fleeting moment he felt lousy for the reaction such a tender moment between you, his wife, and his beloved niece arose in him, but the feeling was brief, for the very next moment he was rushing to your shared chambers, like a man on a mission.

He was hells bent on getting you with child that very day, and the Seven be damned if they didn’t give him what he wanted.

Your afternoon spent with your good sister and her children left you feeling refreshed, regardless of the foul feeling your conversation with Jaehaera elicited in you. If you were being quite honest, some of the women in court irked you, always meddling into other people’s business and treating others, including those of higher stations than them, as if lesser than. Lady Cassandra Baratheon was one of those women, so you didn’t feel a single drop of remorse about the advice you had given to your cousin, now niece.

The only thing about your day that had not been so enjoyable was the fact that your lord husband had skipped lunch. It wasn’t so much that his absence itself bothered you, although you did enjoy spending time in his company, it was just that at times he got so in his head that he often forgot to take care of himself. A few hours into the afternoon you had thought you had caught a glimpse of him in the outskirts of the garden but where you were expecting him to join the lot of you, he had completely vanished by the time you properly glanced his way. 

That was over a half hour ago, where you now strided towards your chambers to clean up for supper.

Or that would have been your plan, had you not been surprised by a warm body practically colliding into you the moment you crossed the threshold, one large hand tangling in your hair and the other snaking around your waist. Lips captured your own in a hungry, messy kiss, teeth clashing and a warm tongue brushing over your bottom lip and into your mouth.

“Ābrazȳrys, finally.” he moaned, pulling back only a fraction, just enough to look at you for a moment before connecting your lips again.

“V-Valzȳrys…” you tried speaking as he pulled you further into the room and pressed you even more against himself, closing the door behind you, but his kiss was relentless, his lips moving to your jaw and down your neck, titling your head to give him better access to your skin. 

It was then that you noticed the state of him: his hair down, a few messy strands out of place, the first few buttons of his doublet undone and something hard was poking your navel. Pulling back a bit, as much as his grip on you would allow, you noticed that his breeches were unlaced and pulled down slightly, his cock out, hard and glistening, which told you he had been tugging at it for at least a while now.

He pulled you back in, mouth latching against your shoulder as he sucked and nibbled on the skin.

“Aem…” it was when you felt his hands moving to your back, clawing at the laces of your dress, that you pulled back and held his cheeks in your hands, forcing him to keep his gaze on you “Aemond, what has gotten into you?”

He sighed then, leaning into your palms, before coming closer and leaning his forehead against yours.

“I am putting a child into your womb tonight, my love.” his warm fanning against your lips, his words making your heart skip a beat “I do not care how long it takes, ot how many times I have to fuck that sweet cunt of yours, my seed is taking root inside you tonight.”

It was your turn to kiss him desperately then, something primal fueling your actions. Something about the way he spoke, about what he spoke of, lit a fire in your stomach that pulsed in your core. He met you in the middle with equal fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as he resumed his task.

He turned you around then, pushing you towards the foot of the bed. His hands were a contrast with the way the rest of his body was moving, gently moving your hair out of the way so he could nibble on the skin of your exposed neck harshly. His other hand softly untangled the laces of your dress, all the while he grinded his exposed cock against your clothed ass.

“What brought this on, if I may ask?” you asked breathlessly, yet still curious about his behavior.

“Seeing you, with them,” he moaned and grinded into you more forcefully at the thought, and you could feel his cock twitch violently against your behind “I want that for us, for you.”

You softened then, a warm and fuzzy feeling taking over your heart. You wanted that too, as you had once told him, you wanted a family of your own, you wanted to share this with him. And it seemed he wanted it just the same. 

You couldn’t dwell on it for too long though, because soon enough your dress was loose enough for him to push it off your shoulders, the fabric pooling around your feet, quickly followed by your underclothes. You went to turn around but a pair of large hands on your waist stopped your movements. 

“Stay.” he whispered against your ear, and you could do nothing but nod.

The sound of heavy fabric rustling behind you let you know that his own clothes were being discarded, which was confirmed when you felt the entire plane of his naked chest pressed against your back, his heavy cock nestled on your ass as he wrapped both arms around your middle.

“Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria.” he spoke against the shell of your ear before nipping at your earlobe “Muña hen ñuha riñar.”

It made your heart clench and heat climb up your spine, a gush of something warm spreading between your thighs. 

His hands moved then, softly caressing your skin as they went before settling, one on your lower back and the other right between your shoulder blades. A light of pressure of his palms caused your knees to bend, hitting the soft mattress, your upper body bending at the waist as you placed your hands on the bed to help support your weight. He knelt behind you, gently rearranging you so you scooted further on up on the bed.

For a moment nothing happened and time seemed to pause around you. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed besides the two of you in this very moment. 

Then you felt it, his hands holding your thighs as his hot breath tingled against your glistening folds before his tongue made contact with your cunt, licking a broad stripe against your folds. A whimper escaped your lips as his tongue circled your clit, moving back up and circling your entrance in the same manner, dipping only the very tip inside. His movements were slow yet sharp, precise, like he knew your body inside and out.

You whined, him mouthing at the entirety of your cunt, pulling your folds between his lips, before his lips latched onto your clit, sucking gently. Your arms started trembling, forcing you down to your stomach with your forearms flat on the mattress, his grip keeping your ass up. He plunged not one but two fingers inside you, eliciting a sharp cry from you as you tried to move away from him, though again his grip on your thighs wouldn’t let you. He waited a moment for you to adjust, one of his thumbs gently caressing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in high valyrian, before slowly, very gently starting to move his fingers out of your cunt before pushing in again.

In a few moments he was clawing against your warm walls as if his life depended on it, probing, searching for that spot that made your mind spin and knocked the breath out of your chest. Hot molten pleasure was pooling in your stomach, spreading through your limbs and up your spine when the pads of his fingers brushed against it, sending a twinge of pleasure travelling all through your body. The mounting pressure in your navel kept growing and growing with each pass of his digits, making sweat drip from your brow and heat settle in your cheeks. 

A harsh tug of his lips, sucking harshly on your clit, was what sent you over the edge, the coil snapping and sending waves upon waves of pleasure through you, stealing your breath from your lungs. He barely gave you any time to think, though, the familiar sound of him sucking his fingers clean followed by his cock poking at your entrance. Then you felt two hands settling in each one of your shoulders, pulling you back towards him and onto his cock in one swift thrust, your previous release offering no resistance.

You moaned loudly, your ears ringing as he started pounding into you, his hands moving to your hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as his hips met your ass repeatedly, your own loud whines and his groans and grunts the only other sounds you could make out.

The pleasure was quickly rebuilding, not having fully receded in the first place, but after a few moments he slowed down to a stop, a whine of disappointment ripping from your throat.

“No,” he panted, his own breath stilled “this will not do.”

Your disappointment was short lived however, as he quickly flipped your around, manhandling you on your back and pushing your knees to your chest. He hurriedly thrust inside your cunt again, positioning himself so your legs slotted perfectly over his shoulders and his chest was flush against your own, pushing down on you, before resuming his erratic pace.

It was dizzying, your head was spinning and you could barely catch the words he was speaking against your skin, both his hands cradling the sides of your face as his cock slipped in and out and in and out of you over and over.

“Ñuha dāria, sīr vok,” he groaned, pressing even further into you and, in turn, pressing you even more into the matress “kesā tepagon nyke hen riñar, kessa ao daor?” 

You could only nod, feeling that familiar pressure climbing and coiling ready to burst at any moment. At the same time, an immeasurable wave of love exploded from your heart at the thought, making you clench tightly around him, pulling a hiss from him.

“Tepagon ziry naejot nyke, pār.” his own voice was trembling, one of his hands leaving your face to circle your clit in short sharp circles “G-Give it to me and in turn I will give you however many babes you might want.”

You cried out, the coil of pressure snapping once more and making molten heat, scorching like dragon fire, filling your mind, waves of pleasure radiating from your core to every part of your body, taking over all your senses and enveloping your very being. He was quick to follow, thrusting sloppily into your cunt as his cock twitched violently, shooting ropes of his warm seed, painting your damp walls, his body collapsing over your own.

As you came to your senses you could feel him mouthing gently, almost lazily at the skin around your breast. When he noticed you staring at him he raised his head, his lips meeting your own in a sweet, soft peck.

“Avy jorrāelan, zaldrītsos.” he smiled tiredly, his whole face lighting up beautifully.

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha zaldrīzes.” you answered in kind.

After a few moments regaining your breath you pushed at his shoulder gently, so he could get off of you, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Where are you going, ābrazȳrys?” he jested, a mocking smirk taking over his features as he thrust his now softening cock shallowly into your cunt “I told you I would get you with child by the end of the night, and I intend on making good on my word.”

By the looks of it, you’d both end up missing supper that evening, as you were in for a long night

High Valyrian translations: - ābrazȳrys - wife - valzȳrys - husband - ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria - my wife, my queen - muña hen ñuha riñar - mother of my children - ñuha dāria, sīr vok - my queen, so perfect - kesā tepagon nyke iā lot hen riñar, kessa ao daor? - you will give me a lot of children, will you not? - tepagon ziry naejot nyke, pār - give it to me, then

Tag List:

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@sleephereicome

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@garden-in-the-rain

@queen-of-elves

@woodlandwrites

[totallynotasimp67]

Ghost x Combat Medic!Reader

I don’t feel like finishing this lmao, this was supposed to Goap/Reader but like I said I don’t feel like finishing this, enjoy I guess

Also, I didn’t actually do any research into the cyanide thing I just remember it from a Wonder Woman movie, I also used google translate for a singular word

*Gaol - Love

Not a clue if it actually means that and I don’t really care lol

~~~~~~~~

“Ghost, How Copy?” The coms device crackles in the Lieutenants ear

“All good over here”

There a slight pause as Ghost ponders why you contacted him from base camp

“Ahh, good, there’s been a minor situation back here”

Ghost freezes, did one of his soldiers get hurt, did Johnny get hurt, did you get hurt, questions flood his mind but you speak before he can

“One of the enemy tried to play recon, tried to see what we had, was a fool that one”

Shit, Ghost thought, his favorite medic, though he wasn’t sure of his feelings, was in danger, he had to get there fast

“Stay hidden, I’ll be there soon… did you say ‘tried’”

“Aye, he’s currently out cold and tied to a chair, although I can’t say the bindings are the greatest, used what what was lying around”

A wave of relief washed over the Lieutenant as he allowed a sigh of relief pass his lips

“Hold your position, if I can’t to you myself I’ll make sure another soldier can”

He hated the thought of you being taken care of by another soldier but he hated the thought of you being hurt or worse more

“Aight, I’m almost finished my ‘examination’ last thing is his mouth”

Ghost wanted to question why you were ‘examining’ the enemy, he couldn’t dwell on it too long he had to get over there as soon as possible

“Soap. How copy?”

“Second floors clear L.T. ye need somethin’” Soap questions

“Sorta, one of the enemy slipped by and is being held back at base camp”

Soap understands now, Ghost’s worried about you, Soap had spared with you a few times per your request, he knows your rather strong but he knew that before you asked to spar, you treated wounded soldiers on and off the field, holding them down or dragging their limp body was nothing new to you, Soap knew it, surely Ghost did too, maybe the rational part of his mind wasn’t working, only caring for your safety

“Aye, all most finished ‘ere, scan the grounds make sure no one slips by then head back, be done soon ‘nough”

Good, he can go to you and not some random solider

“Loud an clear”

Scanning the surroundings for anyone, but only bodies littered the ground, a sigh of relief, Simon can go and make sure you’re alright and not alone with the enemy regardless of if their tied up or not

“s’all clear, nothin’ but bodies” Ghost grumbled into the coms device

“Aye, almost done ‘ere, go check on yer gaol*”

Simon rolled his eyes at John’s comment, not that anyone could see, the sentiment was still there

“Ye can tell me what that means later”

“Haha, not a chance, ye’ll try and kill me”

——— Back at Base Camp ———

Humming to no one in particular as it was only you and the unconscious combatant

“Hhhmm, I wonder what secrets you hold,” your pondering interrupted when your coms crackle

“Fangs, how copy”

It was Ghost, he must be almost done

“All clear, captive doesn’t have any on him that could compromise us or him,”

So that’s what you meant by ‘examination’

“Although he could stand to have visited the dentist more often”

“And why do you know that, ya know what jus tell me when I get there”

Giggling “alright, when will you get here”

“Soon”

That’s all you heard before the coms went silent, guess you’ll have to sit by your lonesome at base camp

‘Base camp’ wasn’t all that bad of a building, it was really just a safe house that Ghost, Soap, yourself and a handful of other soldiers would return too once all necessary targets were eliminated, and the information was secure, looking at your watch it had been almost an hour since the others should have infuriated the target building, they shouldn’t be gone for too much longer, if Ghost comes back alone you’ll have to ask where the others are

The soft crunching of boots on dried leaves let you know someone is approaching, keeping out of sight from whom ever walks through the door, be it Ghost or any of the other boys or another enemy looking for their missing comrade, having decided to not take any chances

One hand the standard issue pistol, the other ready to call for back up, bracing for whoever’s on the other side, friend or foe, the door cracks open at first as if the one opening it is worried about an ambush, opening it the rest of the way having not seen you on the initial opening Ghost calls out

“FANGS! Where are you?!” Worry lacing his voice, he hadn’t seen you on his first scan of the room before him, worried someone might have come for their comrade and for you

Stepping out of the door way you hid in “no need to shout, ‘m right here”

The sight of you unharmed has Ghost relaxing a bit “good, where’s the guy you subdued?”

“Also what about that comment ‘bout ‘im needing to see a dentist?”

“Oh, that,” motioning for Simon to follow “well, some context, before I became a medic I had, well I still have, quite the interest in execution and torture techniques”

“I don’t even need to see your face to know it says ‘what in the actual hell’ I’ve gotten that reaction before”

Shocked would be one way to explain how Simon felt, gob smacked even, you, the tiny(compared to him most everyone is tiny) kind and harmless person has such a morbid curiosity, one would expect something like that of Ghost himself, but you, it was almost impossible to imagine, something like plants and which ones could be used medicinally maybe, but execution and torture

Pulling Ghost from his thoughts you spoke, “well here he is, but one of the ‘execution’ techniques was a pill of cyanide in a false tooth, so when you get captured to avoid torture you’d break the pill and die”

“Now I know it’s not very common but, I feel the need to check anyway, because the one time I don’t check they’ll have it and boom, we’ve lost a source of intel”

Ghost has to admit though, your thoroughness could prove useful in the future, but now he was just glad you were safe

Wordlessly he checks the bindings on the captive, ensuring their strong enough to hold, he’d have to contact Price when the others go back, then he’s being pulled to the side by his shoulder

“You hurt? This can go the easy way where you just tell me or I strip your gear off and look myself”

Silence, frustrating silence, Simon couldn’t breathe or think let alone reply to your question, the seconds felt like an eternity, the thought of you pulling his tactical gear off and looking over his body with such care, Simon feels as if he could combust when he’s pulled out of his thoughts by your annoyed huff

“Looks like it’ll be the hard way” but before you can start removing Simons gear his hands grab your wrists preventing you from doing anything more

“‘M fine, wasn’t hurt”

“Haaa, ye didn’t say so because…” hoping he’d answer

“Was making sure you weren’t hurt, can’t have our only medic hurt now can we”

If you rolled your eyes any harder they’d roll right outta your skull

[midnight-mourning]

Comfy Cuddles

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 18❄️❄️

one last softy before beddy by, as someone who has felt the pain of busting their ass on ice, I had to do my best for all of us out there who've suffered the same fate 😔 this one's for y'all fr fr

Prompt: YO I GOT A PROMPT :DD So, it's pretty icy where I live right now and I recently slipped and busted my ass :( Could we perhaps get the boys comforting reader after hurting themself with maybe some warming and massaging cuddles (to alleviate the pain)? :3

Word Count: 1610

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It was completely your own fault. You'd been in a rush to get to the store and get back quickly. The last thing you'd wanted was to be out and about today, but you had no choice, having forgotten to grocery shop sooner in the week. Meaning if you desired to have a decent holiday dinner or two, you needed to get supplies for it. 

So, you'd rushed out the door, telling the boys you would be quick so that you could spend the day together as you'd planned. This was their first holiday season outside the Plex and you wanted everything to be perfect for them. 

What you didn't account for, was mother nature herself fighting against you. 

It'd been the moment you locked the front door, starting to hurrying down your porch steps that you thought, you'd cleaned off earlier that morning. 

You were wrong. 

Your foot catches the edge wrong, ice causing you to slip, you fall back, hands going out to catch yourself. They help soften your fall, but now your wrist and your ass hurt as you drive to the store a half-wet mess. You turn the music on the radio up louder, trying to drown out your own stewing. 

You get inside and to your despair, it's even busier than you were expecting. People rush in and out, kids screaming and crying, couples arguing, senior citizens grumbling, it's a mess. Still, you won't be deterred. You adjust your hat, and begin your march inside. 

You have to fight an old woman for a cart—who, mind you, already had one and a basket, she was insisting on a third for some reason—but make your way inside. Shopping is a flurry, but you still are able to grab all your ingredients without much fuss. 

It's after you've checked out, and are walking out into the parking lot that nature targets you again. You're triple checking your list, when your feet come out from under you, and you fall again, this time, landing only on your left wrist, which was already hurting, and now is zinging bad. 

You let out a slew of curses, ignoring the looks you get from passerbys. Thankfully, some kind woman comes to your aid, helping you back up and handing you back your cart. 

On the drive home you turn the music up even louder, carols blasting at full volume. You know it's too loud when the car next to you gives you a weird look while you wait at the stop light. You just slink further down into your seat, white-knuckling the wheel. 

"It's all gonna be worth it. It's all gonna be worth it." You chant to yourself. "They're gonna be so excited, they're gonna have so much fun, you're not going to ruin this for them."

You know how excited both Sun and Moon have been for the holidays. They've had a blast so far helping you decorate, put up the tree, wrap presents, and so on. But you know in particular they've been looking forward to cooking and baking with you, as it's something they could never imagine doing back in the Pizza Plex. 

Furthermore, they see it as something they can do that entirely benefits you and your needs. It's important to them, the holidays and this meal overall are important to them. You'll pop a few pain relievers, and ice your wrist and you'll live. 

Oh, if only that were the case. 

You didn't account for one thing, and one thing alone. 

Mother nature likes to work in threes. 

You're walking up the steps, bundles on groceries in your arms, when she strikes one final time. While you're on the sidewalk before your steps. You slip, bags go flying, along with the last piece of your dignity, you think. 

You just close your eyes and wait to hit the ground. Landing this time fully on your back, the snow only barely cushioning your fall as you let out a pained groan. 

This one knocked the wind out of you, and you have to take a moment to catch your breath as you lay there, ignoring the scattered veggies and other items that surround you like the chalk outline of a crime scene. 

After a few deep breaths, you reach your hand up, ripping off your glove with your teeth and biting down. You let out a muffled scream, kicking your sore feet and ignoring how each hit against the ground sends pain shooting up through you. 

You're too busy having a tantrum to realize the door's opened and shut. Instead, when Sun's face comes into view you're very surprised to see him. 

His voice is soft, full of worry. "Starshine, what are you doing laying out here in the snow? Why are the groceries everywhere?"

You try to speak and remember the glove. You remove it from your mouth, trying to hide your pain as you speak. "Hi, Sunny. I, had a bit of a spill."

"Oh goodness! I thought so. Are you alright?" He starts fretting, hurriedly pulling you to your wobbly feet. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here to help, why did you say anything about there being so many groceries?"

You wave him off, bending to pick things up, even though it hurts like hell. "I thought I could get it all myself. It's fine, you can go back inside, you don't have a coat on and I don't want your internals freezing up."

Sun stares at you, gaze like a hawk as he sees you flinch while picking things up. 

"You're hurt."

You grab another orange, stuffing it into a bag, god your... everything, hurts. "It was just a little slip, really I'm okay—"

His hand envelops yours, gently moving you so you're standing straight, his other hand on your shoulder as he peers down at you. 

"A 'little slip' doesn't have you moving like you're 80, Starshine." His tone is colder than you ever heard. "You fell. Hard, apparently."

"Only for you~" You say, before you're suddenly scooped up. "Ow! Easy on the goods."

"You are hurt!" Sun tsks, marching inside. "We knew it, you're getting treated immediately, and resting the remainder of today. And tomorrow too!"

You try to protest. "It was just a couple minor spills! Come on, I'll take some meds and be okay. I know how important dinner tonight is for you guys, and today overall."

"You're more important to us than any silly tradition, you should know that by now."

Sun sets you down on the couch, snatching up not one, not two, but three blankets. He ushers you out of your outer wear and then takes the blankets, wrapping them around you in one giant, inescapable, cocoon. He pats your head a few times, then bends down to your eye level. 

"Now, what's this about a couple spills, you say?" His rays click to one side, and you gulp. 

You're sentence to couch jail. Length of stay? Indefinite. Conclusion based upon? The glare Sun sends you from the kitchen everytime you even consider getting up for something, including the bathroom. 

He makes dinner early, practically feeding it to you because your arms are trapped under blankets and the one is wrapped in a splint with ice. 

After dinner you're subjected to more torture, in the form of cuddles. An atrocity, that's what this prison is. You now sit in the sunny bot's lap, blankets around you both, as he massages your shoulders and back. You will not admit how good it feels. Both in relieving your pain, and in having such an extraordinary amount of affection hurled your way with such an act. 

A groan slips through your lips when his palm digs into your shoulder blade, and he chuckles. 

"It doesn't even hurt that much." You grumble, only to let out another noise unintentionally. 

His voice is soft and his head lowers to your neck, planting a kiss there. "Oh, I'm sure it doesn't."

Your ears burn, but you say nothing. 

"Why do you think you can't ask us for help?" He asks. "You know we care about you more than anything."

You sigh. "I just, wanted this to go smoothly today. You guys were so excited and I didn't want to let you down. I'm sorry. I'm mad at myself, not you two. Thank you for taking care of me today." You turn and plant a kiss to his cheek. 

Sun's arms wrap around you, snuggling close as he kisses your shoulder. "Of course, Sunbeam. Always."

Sometime later, when the lights have been turned down and you're now watching a movie, Moon takes his turn trying to ease your pain. 

"Silly, Star." He tsks, rubbing his thumb over your wrist gently, other hand kneading the side of your hip. "Next time, we're going with you. We'll even carry you if we have to."

You chuckle, humming as he works. "That sounds fun, but I'll pass. On the carrying that is. Maybe if you come with me one of you will also bust your ass, and I'll have something to laugh about."

Moon snickers, pressing his faceplate to your lifted wrist. "How mean of you. But if it'll make you smile, I suppose we can suffer through."

"Appreciate it." You snuggle closer to him, eyelids starting to feel heavy after being wrapped up and warm for so long.

As sleep starts to take you over you mumble out another thanks to the attendants, hoping they heard you. 

Well, you can always tell them again in the morning. Maybe show them too. A few more kisses should do the job quite nicely.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the cute request @kaprisvn!! Hope you're feeling better now, and at the very least hope this was a fun little read ^-^

captured the feeling properly :)

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