#heaven help you if you think this is the place to argue about that

[wordsandrobots]

IBO reference notes on . . . queerness

How has it taken me this long to write about this aspect of the show? (He asked rhetorically, staring at the enormous amount of fanfic that basically stands as a thesis statement on how very queer this part of the Gundam franchise is [as opposed to all the other terribly straight parts, he added, sarcastically].)

Anyway, let's do it. Full spoilers up to the end of the show will follow, together with discussion of child abuse and exploitation, since that is what IBO is all about.

Special thanks to @lilenui and @prezaki for their invaluable assistance in locating sources.

Statement of caveats: this work is an amateur analysis of the English-language localisations (subtitled and dubbed) of a piece of Japanese media. I do not speak or read Japanese. I am myself bi, which qualifies me to be attracted to more of the cast than the average viewer, and have a working knowledge of LGBTQ+ history in the UK and USA, which tells me nothing about the cultural and historical context in which this anime was made. As such, I will not be addressing the behind-the-scenes production or the corporate mandates surrounding it but will focus narrowly on what I perceive to be present in the text (hereafter meaning both the script and animation, and any additional fictional details provided elsewhere).

Queerness in Gundam

Some background before we dive in. To my knowledge, the first character in the Gundam franchise to be intentionally depicted as LGBTQ+ is Guin Sard Lineford from Turn A Gundam (1999). An ambitious young aristocrat who spends the series on the line between hero and villain, he is infatuated with protagonist Loran Cehack and the show makes little attempt to play this as anything other than one man falling in love with another.

This is entirely one-sided and not appreciated on Loran's part, although that seems to have less to do with it being homosexual attraction than with Guin's high-handed and entitled attitude to life, filtered through heavily gendered social norms. For plot reasons, Loran spends several episodes cross-dressing as 'Laura Rolla', corsets and all, and Guin continues referring to him as 'Laura' long after the deception is no longer required, saying it 'suits him better'. Guin is eventually called out on this by a third character, who accuses him of forcing an idea of feminity on the other man rather than stoop to place himself in the position of a 'wife'. Objectifying Loran is presented as of a piece with Guin's overall flaws as a person, to whit, putting his own views about how things should be above the material reality and desires of those around him.

Guin is also the only explicitly gay character in the show (I'm honestly not sure how to classify whatever Dianna Soreil and Kihel Heim have going on, but it's certainly not labelled in the text). Therefore no counterpoint is provided to demonstrate healthy queer relationships. I don't state this to dismiss his inclusion: he forms part of a smart, nuanced plot thread, and Gundam creator Yoshiyuki Tomino had to fight to get Guin's homosexuality clearly included. But even so, Guin is a palpable step forward rather than a watershed moment, and the end result veers close to some nasty stereotypes about queer people imposing their desires on others.

There are other examples of characters transgressing gender norms in Turn A, most especially Loran's aforementioned cross-dressing. He is comfortable playing the part of 'Laura', in ways that mitigate viewing this situation as the extended joke it might be in another production. Funny moments do come up – particularly in the lead-in to his 'debut' as he acclimatises to the female attire of the show's pseudo-Edwardian setting and takes posture lesson – but he and the concept of a man in ladies' clothes are never made a subject of mockery. The same cannot be said for the character of Sochie Heim, whose attempts as a young woman to fulfil a gung-ho masculine role often turn comedic. This is part and parcel of her assaying militaristic modes of action, which are soundly mocked across the board. It nevertheless stands out next to Loran/Laura.

Further, Loran's status as a literal moon-child carries implications for his attitudes. His dismissal of existing social standards on Earth is very much presented as correct, and in keeping with what I know of Tomino's other writing and stated beliefs, but it dovetails unfortunately with a treatment of queerness as otherworldly, not something that may be found among an average population. We get another example of cross-dressing in the next-but-one series, Gundam 00 (2007, not a work Tomino helmed), where the usually male-presenting artificial lifeform Tieria Erde switches to a female presentation (in a ball-gown, no less) during a covert mission. This sufficiently parallels Loran's case, I assume it was a deliberate call-back, being as it is a disguise enacted by someone even less typical than a boy from the moon.

What I am driving at is that while Guin, Loran and Tieria may be characters who are queer or perform queerness in some manner, they do not necessarily represent an outright embracing of queerness as a mundane facet of everyday life.

Fast-forward to 2024 and the latest mainline Gundam show is a lesbian romance.

If you have been following my blog for a while, you will know I do not hold The Witch From Mercury in especially high regard. I think it is annoyingly messy, frequently half-baked, and, broadly-speaking, exactly as frustrating as I'd expect from the guy who wrote Code:Geass. It's still an explicit love story that opens with a clangingly blunt statement about the acceptance same-sex relationships and ends with the two female leads happily married to one other. For all its flaws, I genuinely think the central relationship between Suletta Mercury and Miorine Rembran is a nice piece of story-telling, not to mention admirably open about what it is doing. Like it or lump it, Gundam is gay now, properly, with a protagonist and co-protagonist who can be definitively labelled queer and whose romance appears entirely unremarkable for the setting (in terms of being same-sex; clearly there is a lot to remark upon otherwise).

I would be remiss if I did not mention that the conclusion of the series was accompanied by a certain amount of corporate arse-showing, with hollow attempts to walk back the ending seemingly for the sake of appeasing homophobic elements within and without the companies that produce Gundam. The frankly laughable nature of these actions stands testament to how unequivocal G-Witch is. It is flatly impossible in my opinion to interpret as anything other than flagrantly homosexual, and that's great.

Between this interesting but limited start and the full-throated present lies Iron-Blooded Orphans (2015), my absolute favourite and the show that got me writing slash fic after years of… not doing that. So: what is the deal with queerness in IBO?

Natural for a human

By my count, including all present spin-offs, there are three characters stated in-text as being attracted to people of the same gender (Yamagi Gilmerton, Iznario Fareed, Deira Nadira), two who are at the least open to the idea (Norba Shino, Mina Zalmfort), two whose mutual attraction is stated within the context of polyamory with a third person of the opposite gender (Atra Mixta, Kudelia Aina Bernstein), one whose sexuality is briefly hinted at (Chad Chaden), and one male character who is possibly not attracted to women (Orga Itsuka).

Let's get Iznario out of the way first, because the less time we spend on the actual paedophile, the better.

Lord Iznario Fareed is a rich, powerful aristocrat who sexually abuses young blonde boys and inadvertently sets large parts of the plot in motion as part of quasi-villain McGillis' backstory. In a lesser show, Iznario would be the embodiment of the 'predatory queer' stereotype Guin skirts the edge of. Here, however, he is very much not the only 'gay' character present and his proclivities demonstrate one of the many ways the world exploits vulnerable children, a core theme of the series. Early on, we see fleeting glimpses of young girls being pimped out on the streets of Mars. Iznario shows this social failing extends to the much richer Earth and although he is portrayed as the worst among the Gjallarhorn elite, they all abuse their power for personal gain. Thus, as much as the reveal of what he has done carries a certain shock value, it is not present purely for cheap impact. (This isn't the essay to discuss it, but the flashbacks to McGillis being abused as a child are a masterclass in how to frame such things around the victim, clearly communicating what's happening while avoiding gross voyeurism.)

I don't know how deliberate it is the canonical gay character who is shown in an entirely positive light fits the profile of Iznario's victims to a T, but it does underscore we're looking at a case of power allowing people to get away with hideous things, not a stand-in for queerness in general. To an extent I resent having to spell this out, since it seems so obvious Iznario is not fulfilling the role of a homophobic cliché. Sadly, the cliché exists and the point is worth discussion.

Moving swiftly on: Yamagi and Shino.

Yamagi Gilmerton is a small, quiet teenage boy with a somewhat withdrawn and acerbic personality, who spends much of Iron-Blooded Orphans nursing a hopeless crush on mobile suit pilot Norba Shino. Like the majority of the cast, Yamagi is a child soldier, but a mechanic rather than a combatant. Additional backstory commentary reveals that he struggled on joining CGS mercenary group due to his physique. Indeed, while this detail is not directly referenced in the anime itself, he is indeed drawn noticeably thinner than the other boys.

Again, we veer towards stereotypes, where a queer character is portrayed as weaker and more effeminate. Yet in spite of leaning this way in looks, Yamagi is an eminently capable person, never treated as lesser for fulfilling a support role rather than being a fighter. If anything, IBO goes out of its way to highlight how vital good mechanics are to mechanised warfare, and we see multiple examples of Yamagi being both assertive and kind of badass. At one point, he scales, unaided, an 18 metre tall mobile suit that's collapsed to its knees. When he and Shino are revisited in spin-off game Urdr Hunt (soon to be some form of animated production), he pilots a spaceship within an active battle-zone, flying escort for a damaged freighter as it retreats. In Season 2, he's comfortable ordering Tekkadan's new recruits around and is the first person to properly chew Orga out for his failings as a leader. Far from being an outlier among the protagonists, Yamagi is equally brave and dedicated to the cause, irrespective of his sexuality.

To be fair, he does tend to clam up and grow more awkward around the object of his affections. To be equally fair, he has the misfortune of having fallen for the most oblivious himbo on God's red Mars.

Shino is a big, boisterous warrior, the polar opposite of Yamagi in personality and physicality. He embodies Tekkadan's machismo, eagerly anticipating the chance to prove their strength and generally being a standard bearer for becoming the biggest, baddest group around. Things are not as straightforward as they seem on the surface, however. He shows a good awareness of when the group is in over their heads – going so far as to suggest retreat in the face of bad odds several times – and he is not nearly as sure of himself as he might first appear. He displays a wide streak of insecurity about his abilities as a soldier, reacting badly to people questioning his dedication or competency. And he crumbles completely when some of his comrades are killed as the result of a split-second mistake on his part, stating a wish to have died in their place. Thereafter, he acts in ways that read as choosing to take all the risks on himself rather than go through more loss. It makes him an interesting mix, someone who acts as a cheerleader, boosting everyone else's morale, while swallowing his own doubts and personal fatalism.

He is also presented as one of the most sexually active members of Tekkadan, using his wages to visit brothels to sleep with women. Indeed, he is frequently found extolling the virtues of the opposite sex, referencing collections of pornography (at least in the English dub), and generally being a very typical teenage boy about such matters.

Given this, you might assume Yamagi is longing hopelessly for a straight man. That is indeed the idea the show teases us with for much of its run (can something be straight-baiting? I feel if anything ever earned that title, it's this). OK, Shino's fond of Yamagi as a friend and frequently relies on his assistance in improving his fighting ability, and per ancillary material, is the one who got Yamagi transferred to the mechanics corps in the first place, rescuing him from struggling in the infantry. And sure, Shino spends an awful lot of time in very close proximity to Yamagi, including literally pulling him into the cockpit to assist with a mission. And yes, Shino is absolutely a flamboyant creature, sporting gold ear studs and an attraction to the colour pink, ensuring his mobile suits are painted all over magenta in order to stand out on the battlefield. And certainly, Shino is extremely empathetic, adjusting his attitude depending on his impressions of other people, such that he dials his boisterousness down in Yamagi's presence, displaying a far more gentle affection than he does with his other friends.

But clearly he hasn't noticed Yamagi is head over heels for him.

Right?

Well, towards the end of Season 2, during another moment where Yamagi is literally sitting on Shino's knee, Shino proposes the two of them drink together all night long once the fighting is over. Not only is this an unambiguously romantic overture (he's asking while pushing aside the fringe that normally covers half of Yamagi's face, in order to look into his eyes properly), it comes after a joke several episodes earlier in which Shino has to explain to a less worldly comrade that a girl inviting you for a drink is not a request to go out with the whole gang but a far more intimate gesture (I say explain, it's more expressing incredulity Akihiro didn't realise Lafter was asking him on a date). Later, it is revealed Shino did indeed work out that Yamagi 'likes' him (to his friend Eugene's exasperation that it took him so long to notice), and he reacted with amazed delight to discover there was someone in Tekkadan who'd fall in love with 'a guy like me'.

He'd assumed because Tekkadan is a family (a description provided by their ally Naze, which everyone just kind of runs with), romantic love wasn't possible between them. Having worked through this mental block and finally realised the blindingly obvious, he renews his desire to protect Tekkadan as long as he lives, refuting his previous view of himself as an expendable human shield and heading out with every intention of surviving all the way to the end.

And because IBO is an exquisitely-written tragedy, he is promptly killed while attempting a futile one-man attack against their enemies, his advances on Yamagi forming part of a long build-up whereby the boy who loves him provides the tools he needs to charge into a suicide run.

Right then. *drags out the reading comprehension soap-box* I have seen some people refer to this as an example of the 'bury your gays' trope, and there is nothing more likely to get me manifesting behind you in the form of an irate shoebill than to do likewise. 'Bury your gays' refers to a tendency for queer characters in fiction to disproportionately suffer tragic fates. This is a writing choice usually rooted in the idea queer relationships are inherently tragic, either because they are viewed as a perversion of 'correct' forms of love, or because of some misguided idea the prevalence of homophobia means queer joy is impossible. I am going to be charitable and concede this is indeed a case where one half of a budding homosexual relationship dies horribly. But, as always, the context matters.

All but one of the romantic relationships established prior to the epilogue of Iron-Blooded Orphans end in death. Of the two that survive in some capacity, one is a heterosexual background romance between two older characters and the other is a pair of women I shall be covering later. IBO is a story about child soldiers that does not shy away from the fact these are teenagers being fed into a meat-grinder. That the director's original intention of killing every named character was toned down (to the series immeasurable benefit, in my opinion) dos not change a narrative arc towards doom.

Within this, Yamagi and Shino aren't singled out for being queer. The coyness around Shino's eventually-evident bisexuality serves to generate an instant of hope and relief right before the rug is pulled from under everyone's feet. Where Shino's death does differ from those of other characters is in presentation: he dies alone and does not get any form of farewell or the passing-on moment afforded to others. But that is only to be expected, since we're talking about the point where it becomes clear there is no saving the situation. It's a cruel, abrupt moment of bad luck, puncturing the heroic idea of scraping victory at the last second. Shino flew out intending to live and he died anyway. A queer relationship forming part of what he was fighting for is an almost incidental detail.

(As an aside, I am aware of two other examples in Gundam fiction where a pilot and a mechanic have a doomed love affair. One is in Char's Counterattack, where a male engineer's romance with a female pilot ends with them both being abruptly killed, and the other is from Gundam AGE, where a female mechanic sacrifices herself for the greater good, leaving a male pilot to mourn her loss for the rest of the series. Shino and Yamagi reiterate this same concept.)

Stepping back from the tragedy, Yamagi's love for Shino is as delightfully underplayed as the other relationships in the show, with little emotional melodrama being wrung from the romance itself. Yamagi can't bring himself to declare his feelings, frequently turning cold instead and perpetuating Shino's misunderstanding of where they stand. Yet Shino ultimately proves enthusiastic for the idea, rendering moot any concerns Yamagi had over getting turned down (going beyond the text, a Q&A with the series' director confirmed Shino was written as bi). Equally, in the aftermath of Shino's death, Eugene comforts Yamagi by relating the truth of Shino's earlier realisation and even going so far as to rebuff Yamagi for implying there's something wrong with him for grieving. This and other interactions in the same episode imply those nearest to the pair were well aware of Yamagi's desires and had absolutely no problem with them. The prevailing attitude within Tekkadan is one of complete acceptance for its members and this is no different.

Indeed, for me, the most important part of how queerness is represented in IBO is that it is treated as just another aspect of the diversity of the cast. I've seen it stated that viewing homosexuality as a natural part of human existence was Tomino's motivation in making Guin gay. IBO presents us with the same idea, far more seamlessly and far more positively.

Now, let's leave the anime proper and look at the same-sex pairing from spin-off manga Iron-Blooded Orphans: Moon Steel.

Deira Nadira and Mina Zalmfort are part of the Gjallarhorn nobility and their marriage was arranged to strengthen relations between their two families. We see an example of a similar political match in the main show, where the heir to the Fareed family, McGillis, is betrothed to the second child of the Bauduins, the much, much younger Almiria. That this can take place regardless of the gender of the participants has big implications for the functioning of a bloodline-focused aristocracy. Presumably it indicates they are happy to use medical technology to ensure the Nadira family continues into the next generation, and if same-sex marriages are thus permitted, that means fewer factors to worry about when it comes to perpetuation. Whether male-male weddings are allowed too remains an open question; given the existence of real-world double-standards, it is possible Deira and Mina represent the only acceptable form of homosexuality. Nevertheless, that it is accepted speaks volumes. Gjallarhorn is not an especially progressive organisation, built as it is on rigid class structures and notions of human purity. Yet here we are.

Perhaps we should have expected that the norms around gender in this system don't correspond to strictly patriarchal patterns from the real world. Carta Issue, a key player in Season 1 of the anime, is the only child of the Issue Family's current leader and positioned as his sole heir, irrespective of the fact she's a woman. The logical inference is that any children of hers would count as Issues, rather than belonging to a potential husband's family. Deira is similarly the heir to her father's position, although intriguingly, it's not outright confirmed if she is his only child or simply the oldest. The possibility exists that gender is a non-factor in determining inheritance.

With respect to sexuality, Deira seems pretty obviously intended to be a lesbian. Her relationship with Mina is presented as one they are both happy with, despite it being an arranged by their parents, and Deira is depicted in the manual for Gundam Gremory's model kit as favouring the clothes of 'a handsome man'. She doesn't present that way within the manga' story, first showing up wearing the standard unisex Gjallarhorn pilot-suit, then wearing a formal gown for a meeting while in an official capacity. But she is depicted wearing masculine clothes in silhouette when initially mentioned and in a post-story panel at the back of the final volume.

(Another aside: the fan translations I use for this part of the manga refer to Deira using male pronouns when she's introduced. However, that could simply be down to the poor quality of said translation; she's consistently referred to using female pronouns in official materials and the game adaptation of this scene has her named as simply 'Lord Nadira', the standard appellation for Gjallarhorn family heads.)

Whether Deira's code-switching is the result of institutional expectations around her role or personal preference, it adds extra texture to her depiction. While civilian garb was designed for the adult version of Carta and closely matches conservative gender expectations for a woman, she's never shown wearing it, so we don't have a point of comparison to judge what's required of a character in Deira's position.

Regarding Mina, you'll notice I grouped her with Shino rather than the characters whose sexuality I consider to be stated outright. With Shino, the nature of his sexuality is not put absolutely beyond question in the text. This is splitting hairs due to the overt nature of what's on screen but the fact remains, the anime doesn't clarify if his being open to Yamagi's love means he already thinks of himself as bisexual, or if this is something he hadn't considered before. With Mina, it's more a case that I'm unwilling to label her one way or the other based on the available information. Deira carries sufficient signifiers, I find little room for doubt over the intention. We also have an outright statement that she holds great affection for Mina regardless of being obliged to consider her an eventual romantic partner. Indeed, she becomes so upset by believing her fiance dead, she runs off to Antarctica in a Gundam. But the exact depth of Mina's feelings in return is not discussed.

In addition, Mina is considerably younger than Deira. McGillis and Almiria's match takes place when he is (probably) somewhere in his late twenties and she is nine, with plans for the union made four years prior. This is not great, to put it mildly, albeit fairly typical of how such things have historically worked for nobility. Based on appearances and how they are treated by the rest of the cast, I would assume Mina to be in her mid-teens, and Deira to be in her early twenties (annoyingly, exact ages are provided for several characters in Moon Steel, just not these two). A less dramatic gap (and I don't believe Mina is meant to be quite as young as her appearance perhaps suggests), yet still significant when one of the people involved is below what we'd consider adulthood.

There is no indication of anything untoward going on, within the confines of the situation, similar to how we're given no indication McGillis is abusive towards Almiria. Any comparisons with Lord Iznario's activities lie purely along the axis of how children are exploited by adults even without suffering directly. All indications are that Deira and Mina have made the most of something they have little choice in. Regardless, I still feel more comfortable describing Mina as open to being in a relationship with another woman, rather than pinning her to a specific preference.

Continuing the theme of things where doubt or ambiguity exist, let's discuss some characters were there shouldn't be any: Atra and Kudelia.

I don't know about you, but I find it extraordinarily hard to read this as anything other than a three-way love-confession. Still, in the interests of fair play, let's review the wriggle room for declaring this something else.

Kudelia Aina Bernstein and Atra Mixta are love interests of nominal protagonist Mikazuki Augus, in an iteration of another tried-and-true trope, that of a male lead inexplicably being attractive to the female characters in his orbit. Or rather, it would be if the show didn't take such pains to demonstrate why these girls fall for him, setting up a long-established crush on Atra's part (rooted in him being the first person in the world to be nice to her) and a mutual respect on Kudelia's that gets spurred to more when Mikazuki randomly decides to kiss her because she 'looked cute' (Mikazuki has the manners of a feral stray raised on the streets, because that's precisely what he is).

Justification aside, this has the makings of a traditional triangle, that is, one without a connecting base, which we might expect to be resolved by either Kudelia or Atra 'losing out'. For a few episodes, this does indeed seem where we are headed. Then Atra discovers the concept of polyamory via the polygamous Turbines group and all bets are off.

Having realised it is perfectly possible for a family to consist of multiple romantic partners, Atra proceeds to work towards ensuring everyone gets everything they want. Strictly speaking, this doesn't mean she is attracted to Kudelia as well – even if she clearly recognises Kudelia as an attractive person from the start and…

You know what? Acknowledging that the information about their eventual marital status was only stated in interviews at live events with no official record and seems to have been framed around raising the son Atra has with Mika, I'm going to abandon the pretence of both-sided objectivity and go straight for the throat. Turns out my patience for soft-footing this lasts about as long as it takes to say 'bi-erasure'.

Over the course of Season 1, Atra not only decides the end-game is some form of three-person wedding, she also:

Shows no jealousy over Mikazuki and instead chides him for not providing the correct emotional support to the girl he kissed.

Spends a great deal of time with Kudelia and enthusiastically throws herself into furthering Kudelia's goals, without necessarily understanding the technicalities.

Covers for Kudelia by pretending to be her during a confrontation with Gjallarhorn soldiers, getting herself soundly beaten up in order to prevent them from chasing after the real deal.

Drives an armoured car through a battlefield for Kudelia's sake, safely delivering her to a vital rendezvous.

Leaps in front of a massive mobile suit to push Kudelia out of its path, physically shielding the other girl with her body.

As much as it pains me to resort to the 'if this were a man and a woman, would it read as romantic' crudity – yes! Yes it would! Especially since in Season 2, Atra presents Kudelia with a good-luck charm bracelet she has woven, something she previously did for Mikazuki explicitly out of having a crush on him. I'm all for embracing platonic love (which is why Takaki and Aston are not featuring in this rundown) and there's nothing in the above list necessarily entailing attraction beyond deep friendship. But when Atra consciously repeats her actions towards Mikazuki (someone she goes on to definitely have sex with) with Kudelia and it leads to the scene between them where they declare how they feel about each other and Mikauki, looking for non-romantic angles takes more effort.

After all, if we are to read Shino's openness to Yamagi's affection from the things he says and how he looks saying them, we can certainly do the same for Atra and Kudelia's use of the word 'like' in reference to one another and their reactions to hearing it said of them. (Obligatory note that if there is some nuance in the original Japanese the translation doesn't capture, I'd love to hear about it. The English scripts, however, leave little to the imagination.)

It is indisputable that Atra feels a strong affection towards Kudelia and while I have been focusing on her a lot (she is by far the most proactive member of the triad), Kudelia reciprocates at every opportunity she is presented with. Even if there truly wasn't an intention to portray this as exactly equivalent to Atra and Mikazuki, the end result manages to be on par with Yamagi and Shino. Consider Kudelia and Mikazuki, for example. In terms of portrayal and the two-girls-one-guy trope being explored here, they have the same level of chemistry and the same absence of overt consummation as Kudelia and Atra, and it would hardly be a serious position to claim the show does not place the two of them in romantic conjunction, now would it?

You may at this point be wondering why I am getting so defensive of reading Kudelia and Atra as romantic partners. Honestly, I am too. On reflection, I think it's because IBO is playing around with such a worn-out and insipid means of wringing drama from characters who should know better, I keep searching for the catch. And yet there isn't one. This show really did respond to a nascent love chevron by having the mousy, homely girl tell the governor's beautiful daughter to shut up and get in the polycule, and turned it into a true triangle.

That's wonderful. I cannot properly express the wave of joy and relief that came over me when I realised this was the direction they were taking. It ends in tragedy, of course, Mikazuki giving up any chance of a peaceful life to die in battle, far away from the women who love him. But their lives continue because of his sacrifice and by all appearances they remain together. In some ways, for the overarching message of hope persisting on the back of heartbreak, the precise details of that arrangement don't particularly matter. So why not take the gayest reading possible?

What an excellent segue into a blink-and-you'll-miss-it, probably-stretching-too-far, nonetheless-compelling potential bit of queerness: Chad in the series epilogue.

One of the many tertiary characters in Tekkadan, Chad Chaden has minor speaking parts throughout Season 1 and a larger role in Season 2. He initially appears during a particularly dire early moment when it looks like everyone is about to be killed by attacking mobile suits. His obvious resignation to this fate sets the tone for a rather dour personality, at least while on the clock. Chad starts out as human debris, a person enslaved after a space battle and sold to the CGS military group as free labour. This gives him a very matter-of-fact attitude towards fighting and the kill-or-be-killed nature of being forced into it – he voices the sentiment that even when facing other human debris, they can't afford to show mercy.

Off the clock, Chad displays a more sensitive personality. He seems studious, learning about interplanetary communications from Kudelia's maid Fumitan and later being promoted to leader of Tekkadan's Earth branch. He has some difficulty acclimatising to being treated as a free person, proving unsure about the concept of wearing a smart suit instead of his normal fatigues. And he grows anxious when he returns to Mars to discover nobody told him two of the few adults in the group (Yukinojo and Merribit) had started dating, worrying that he's no longer 'one of the guys'.

The most we learn about his relationship preferences prior to the series epilogue comes in a comedic sequence about a third of the way into Season 2, when Shino suggests a trip to a local brothel. Eugene responds by proclaiming that he's realised money will not buy him true love. This prompts Chad to ask Merribit if this is true and, on her saying she supposes so, opts out of the trip as well. Judging by his body-language in the next frame where he appears, this is possibly a decision he regrets – perhaps owing to his anxieties, since he just passed up the chance for some team-bonding.

None of this is directly relevant to the topic of this essay. If anything, the scene I just described suggests that, like Eugene, Chad has previously gone along with Shino in paying for sex with women, only to discover he wanted more than just physical intimacy. But then we get the exchange in Kudelia's office during the last episode, following a time-skip after Tekkadan's defeat and dissolution. Now working for Kudelia as an assistant of some kind, Chad notes that Merribit is shortly to give birth to her and Yukinojo's second child, saying he and Yamagi intend to meet up later to plan a celebration. Eugene reacts with amused disbelief, accusing them of just wanting an excuse to go out drinking, to which Chad retorts, 'what's wrong with that?'

And the thing is he's blushing when he does. Which may simply be because Eugene is accusing him of slacking off – IBO characters blush all the time and their embarrassment is frequently to do with being caught acting immature or otherwise against how they want people to see them. But given the weight that 'drinking the night away' carries in regards to Yamagi following Shino's actions shortly prior to his death, it is easy to speculate this represents something more specific.

As far as I can recall, Chad and Yamagi do not interact at all over the course of the show's two seasons, meaning these lines present a rather unexpected combination of characters. Eugene would have seemed a more likely candidate to associate with Yamagi. He's positioned as Shino's closest friend, he comforts Yamagi over his grief, and they are together for much of the climax to the series' plot. So what has happened in the years since, that Eugene's teasing should elicit a blush from Chad instead?

If we put on our shipping goggles, it's far from a nonsensical pairing. Chad goes through an arc not too dissimilar to Shino's. He is knocked into a coma while protecting an ally from a bomb blast and subsequently the Earth branch gets swept into a war orchestrated by one of the factions within Gjallarhorn. On recovering, he blames himself for the many deaths that result, echoing Shino's line about thinking it better if he'd died in place of his comrades. On returning to Mars, he jumps head-first into mobile suit training, determined to make up for his perceived failure as a leader and cheering himself up through rigorous activity. Different though their personalities appear on the surface, there are clear commonalities here. Further, Chad's responses to his traumatic experiences have a more measured quality to them than Shino's. He is not nearly as reckless and provides clear directions to his comrades even while acting as a decoy against a dangerous enemy, rather than abandon any attempt to be an effective leader. Taken together, and coupled to a more long-term view of romance, these qualities might make him a 'safer' version of things Yamagi loved about Shino, creating space for them to be drawn together.

Or perhaps they're simply the most logical points of contact between the ex-Tekkadan survivors at the Admoss Company and Kassapa Factory and intend to make that an excuse to get companionably plastered for no greater reason than it being a nice time. I am speculating over a couple of lines and an animation choice. Nevertheless, it does not feel like unreasonable speculation. When we already have a veritable gaggle of characters who are queer or may trivially be read as such, it's hardly a stretch to assume one more.

Chad/Yamagi doesn't appear to be a thread the fandom at large has pulled on much, likely because the pairing of Shino and Yamagi is so prominent, it eclipses a mere throwaway possibility. But I'm glad it exists within easy reach. And even if we take off our goggles, these lines demonstrate life for the characters has not stopped. The ex-slave and the gay kid are not stuck, trapped by the tragedies of their past. They have instead grown in both confidence and happiness and now have peaceful, stable lives where they're on going-out-drinking terms. That above all is why I wanted to explore this exchange: it reinforces Iron-Blooded Orphans' rejection of the idea the suffering people like Chad and Yamagi go through is perpetual or inevitable.

OK, one more character to look at. Let's talk about Orga and asexuality.

Orga Itsuka, leader of Tekkadan and instigator of the series' events, is notable for his charisma, his drive to provide a safe home for his comrades, and his complete unsuitability for the grown-up activities he attempts. Trying to party all night leaves him puking up his dinner. He forces himself into a suit and tie to handle the administration of a break-out paramilitary company, despite finding it stultifying and bewildering. His goals spin like a weather-cock, as he's surrounded by older characters possessing strong convictions while unable to stick to his own. And he is ultimately undone by an unwillingness to ask for help, having assumed that, as leader, he must decide everything alone.

I suspect his expressed lack of interest in women is intended to help convey overall immaturity. Orga is a good soldier and tactician, but he plainly isn't prepared for adulthood, lacking the grasp on the complexities of life that implies. Making him uncomfortable about sex serves to heighten the impression of a teenager trying to navigate circumstances for which he's not yet ready.

Relatedly, it should be stressed Orga stating he 'doesn't care' about woman is a response to Eugene asking if he agrees love and kindness are what's important, as opposed to Shino's endorsement of boobs. On hearing this response, Eugene proceeds to mock his commander for inexperience. That he himself has only just had his first sexual experience with another person and previously said much the same about not caring about sex simply proves hypocrisy is a fundamental aspect of Eugene's characterisation. The whole scene is very teenage.

Matters have not improved much when Orga and Eugene's dynamic is revisited in one of the side-stories released via the Iron-Blooded Orphans G mobile game. A year and change later, Eugene continues to act superior about having 'experience' where Orga doesn't.

Orga takes this rather poorly.

(Subtitles by @trafalgarlog)

Eventually Merribit has to shout at them to stop being brats, shaming them for behaving like argumentative children. It's funny – and then you remember they basically still are children and this is headed towards more carnage that will not spare them for being young. Such it is to engage with Iron-Blooded Orphans.

What does any of this tell us about Orga's sexuality? In principle, taking it as a device to convey immaturity, nothing. Orga's persisting virginity could simply mean he's not worked out this aspect of himself yet. He is a busy young man who likely hasn't had the time to try.

Alternatively it could mean he is gay. Mikazuki/Orga is an extremely popular ship in the fandom and we might take Orga's professed lack of interest in women as 'evidence' of him swinging the other way.

Or we could take my view, that Orga is asexual and his embarrassment is rooted in just not getting what the big deal is.

To immediately clarify, I don't think he is ace because he 'hasn't worked out what he wants', I think he's ace because he blushes on admitting he doesn't care about women and does not try to prove otherwise once he's in a position where he could easily do so. In circling back to the same joke for the side-story, the writers portray Orga as continuing to be uninterested in sex and sensitive over being needled about it. Again, a feasible interpretation is that he's into guys. Yet this is an argument with Eugene, whose response to the idea of Yamagi being in love with Shino is basically 'you mean you didn't notice?' Eugene is a dork and jerk; he isn't bigoted. None of the Tekkadan guys are. It's unclear if homophobia is even a factor in the setting. Sexism is, but when someone as superficially macho as Shino is comfortable with male/male attraction, and there are same-sex weddings inside Gjallarhorn, we cannot assume stigma exists around being gay. So why should Orga be worried, unless it goes beyond a question of who you're attracted to and into the answer being 'nobody at all'?

When you're surrounded by people who happily wax lyrical about how the joys of sex make you a real man, the absence of a libido might easily become a sore point.

Again, I'm supposing. Again, there is room to do so. As I touched on with Chad, it is easy to read queerness into the text when the assumption of straightness has been taken away, which is something this show does wholeheartedly and deliberately.

Orga Itsuka is one of the first characters I looked at and realised, not only shouldn't I assume heterosexuality, I shouldn't assume sexual attraction at all. I cannot credit Iron-Blooded Orphans alone with this. I do credit it with being a piece of media that applies itself to inclusiveness in ways quite remarkable for a show about giant robot fights, produced to market toys.

The word we want here is 'normalisation'. IBO has a lot to say about what constitutes 'normal' and a lot of it accords well with my own views, particularly those that have me twitching whenever anybody demands we 'be normal' about something. Normality is horrible. It is cruel and it is callous. 'Normal' is a world run on exploitation, on slave labour and on police savagery. Normal is children forced to risk their lives to earn the money required to feed themselves, because it is normal for their parents be gone, or incapable of supporting them. War is normal. Corruption of political systems is normal. Death coming more rapidly for those deemed expendable by society is very, very normal.

But so is protest. The drive to do something, to change things. The capacity for caring about each other. Love. 'Normal' is just a statement about what surrounds us every day, for worse and for better. In too many pieces of fiction, normality is narrowed, rendered a neater, cleaner picture, often excluding the kinds of people we might run into on the street, or walk past, or see on the news, distant and dehumanised.

Queerness is normal, yet for a long time it has been one of the first things to be cut out of fictional worlds. And when it is present, it's a big deal. An object lesson or a cry of triumph over breaking free of unfair strictures. I love stories about queer joy and victory. Heck, I'm a sucker for a good, soppy gay romance. But these aren't the only kinds of stories we tell. Sometimes we need to reflect the worst aspects of the world and what it does to normal people.

In attempting this, Iron-Blooded Orphans commits to an idea of 'normal people' that includes those who are gay or bisexual, those of colour and those we'd call white, the polyamorous, the illiterate, the desperate, the powerful, those who throw themselves into the fight with everything they have, and those who are simply kind. Those who are accepting, understanding and compassionate. Those who need to be accepted, who struggle to be understood, who suffer for a lack of compassion.

There are all sorts of people in IBO and – as a certain cheery, violent dumbass once said – man do I love it. I don't believe it is reading against the spirit of the thing to imagine more diversity than gets outright stated, to interpret one of the leads as ace or suppose another side character is bi or pansexual. It would seem entirely natural if they were.

Everyone's welcome here, down among the debris and the bloodshed, where hope is precious and fleeting and still somehow endures. So why shouldn't we raise a few extra pride flags?

Queer as in 'fuck you'

This all said, taken as a whole, Iron-Blooded Orphans is not a story about queerness or queer romance. Nowhere is this clearer than in its ending.

I skipped over the framing of the final scenes of the anime when I discussed Kudelia and Atra. They form a striking contrast with the ending of The Witch from Mercury, where the conclusion is directly focused around Suletta and Miorine's love for one another, their bonds of wedlock, and the happiness they have found together. This follows from the show being primarily about their relationship. In Iron-Blooded Orphans, the ending focuses not on Kudelia's feelings toward Atra, but those she has for Akatsuki, Mikazuki's son, with Eugene even saying she's eager to go see 'the man she loves', setting up a brief moment of uncertainty over who the character with Mikazuki's outline actually is.

The nature of Kudelia and Atra's relationship post-time-skip is implied rather than stated: in the English versions of the script, they do not refer to each other using terms suggesting they are married, although Atra has dropped her habitual 'Miss' from the front of Kudelia's name. They do not have wedding rings (redundant as those would be alongside the charm bracelets) and Akatsuki does not call Kudelia 'mom'. That they are raising him together is suggested very strongly, in line with Mikazuki asking Kudelia to be guardian of his child if he died. There are non-romantic ways of taking this idea, though, and none of these are closed off as viable interpretations.

But why should we expect some definite statement about romantic status when the point being conveyed is how Tekkadan's legacy continues to shape the world? This is a story concerned with the exploitation underpinning the world and the effort required to make even the smallest wide-scale change. It is about how people trapped at the bottom of the pecking order are still people, still human, messy and complex. It is about their pointless deaths, they ways they struggle on until those deaths come for them, and why they matter, even if the world forgets them.

Mikazuki, the living weapon, the human sacrifice for Orga Itsuka's reckless ambitions, leaves behind a child who will grow up in a more peaceful time, in a society slightly better off than when he and Orga were starving on Chyrse's streets. He doesn't live to see it; Akatsuki does. For all the failures, the attempt wasn't a waste. Don't you dare disrespect the people who died by saying it was.

This is where the epilogue centres, on Akatsuki and on Kudelia's cherishing of the world Mikazuki and everyone else built. Atra and Kudelia's relationship is there, a part of the gentler life they now have (Atra's desires were always towards the version of her existence where Mikazuki retires to a farm; here she fulfils the dream with Kudelia alone). It just doesn't need to take up space for the ending to land.

Yet, as I pour over how queerness is incorporated into Iron-Blooded Orphans, I find myself considering the struggles queer people face in reality. The victims of the AIDS crisis, dehumanised by indifferent institutions. Section 28 and the attempted destruction of knowledge around non-heterosexual forms of love. Riots and campaigns, voices raised loud and proud. How we are equated with dirt and corruption, reduced down to facts others find disgusting. The name-calling. The petty, pathetic posturing that makes everyday existence pointlessly harder.

So it goes for space-rats and degenerates alike.

I am lucky. My life is about as far from that of a child soldier as it is possible to get. My sexuality has been largely invisible. My gender matches the one most favoured by my society. I still have more common cause with those born in poverty on the other side of the world than I will ever have with the aristocrats and billionaires who shape the direction of my country. Because we hold many causes of misery in common. Because we share the same capacities for joy and suffering. Because our humanity is so easily cast aside by those we will never be able to touch.

There is always a place for stories uncomplicatedly about queer love conquering all. Equally, it is important to recognise the places queerness overlaps with stories about the many other ways the world casts people out. It is vital to be able to explore loss, futility and heartbreak. It is essential to capture why we strive onwards despite how heavily tragedy might weight us down.

We may be doomed. Our lives still matter. To ourselves, to each other and, whether they remember or not, to those who come after us.

So, no: for all the queer characters it contains and the many more we might trivially imagine queerness into, Iron-Blooded Orphans is not gay in the vein of The Witch From Mercury. It is not a happy story.

But it is a tenaciously hopeful one and, from certain angles, that alone looks queer as hell.

---------

Happy UK/US Pride Month – in honour and memory of Marsha P Johnson and everyone else who refused to go quietly.

I shall leave you with one of the least straight things ever to be included in any Gundam show.

[Index for further writing]

[missdynamighttt]

all i can think about is mean, pro hero! katsuki giving me backshots, man ☹️

you and katsuki were constantly at each other's throats, whether it was at hero work or at social gatherings. you couldn't stand each other, always arguing and sniping at one another.

but one night, after a few drinks at a work thing, some boring event. something happened. maybe it was just all the tension building up and you simply didn't notice because... you somehow ended up at his place, stripped naked, and honestly? it was mind-blowing.

"hey!" you pant desperately, whimpering from how firmly he grips on your hips. your hands grip onto his couch tightly as your knees hit the soft material. "loosen up a little, my hips are bleeding!"

katsuki's been on edge all day, his mind filled with images of you, wearing your tight fitted clothes that hugged your curves just right, and those high heels that make your legs look endless.

it didn't make it any better when you approached him too, too drunk to even remember where you live, getting you safe in his place and pushing aside your differences for now. maybe a little too much.

"what'cha talking about? i'm not gripping you hard enough," katsuki grins almost devilishly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continues to slam into you from behind, admiring the warm red marks on your hips.

the alcohol earlier long left his system and yours. all he's drunk on now is the feeling of you clenching down on him, whimpering from beneath him. his hands hold onto your love handles as he pulls you into him, your sweet moans echoing in his ears.

he leans in close, breathing heavily, his voice low and rough. "besides.. you like it when i ram into you like this, don't cha?"

"god, you're insufferable," you huff out, frustration and a hint of vulnerability in your moans. "you're such a... fucking asshole."

katsuki grins at your reaction, his fingers sinking deeper into your skin. its not enough for him, the pleasure hes giving you. seeing as you're still being a bitch. more can't hurt, right?

a hand reaches forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back, a sick twisted feeling in him as he watches you struggle to take him.

"watch it, woman." he grunts, his balls twitching as it slams against your pillowy folds. it felt like heaven as he slams his cock hard into your warm cunny, after putting up with your ass for so, so long.

"you knew what you were doing when you decided to show up in that tight little dress. you've been waiting for this, haven't you?"

your yelp of surprise quickly turns into a gasp of pleasure as he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls it back firmly. you try pouting at him but can't keep the moan fully suppressed from your lips.

"not my fault you..." you manage to huff out, your voice filled with irritation and undeniable craving. "get turned on like a pathetic little teenager..."

katsuki laughs at your comment, his laughter quickly turning into a low, growl as he continues to thrust into you. he knows you're taunting him, trying to rile him up. and it's working.

"oh yeah? what makes you think i'm the pathetic one here, hah?" he pauses, landing a hard smack on your ass, earning another yelp from you before holding onto your hips again.

"you're the one on all fours here, getting fucked by me like a dog because you're too needy to wait til we got to bed..."

"don't act like you're any better," you retort, voice shaky with pleasure. "hypocrite.."

he scoffs, giving your hair another firm tug. "i can't help it if you looked that good, brat... besides, you love how much i want you. you love knowing how much i fuckin' need you. don't try to deny it..."

katsuki gives you another smack, this time a little harder. you whimper weakly, face flush with embarrassment as he continues his relentless assault on your cunt.

"you're... hah," you mewl out, voice trembling. "delusional... obsessed."

katsuki laughs again, the sound rough and low in his throat. "yeah, i am. its a real problem. can't help it if you're the only woman that gets me going like this. but you love it."

you muffle your moans by covering your mouth with your hand, your attempts to suppress your growing ecstasy proving very ineffective.

"you're just.. a horny jerk.." you gasp between breaths, the words coming out in a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. "all you are to me is an...easy lay."

katsuki grunts, feeling your words hit him like a punch in the gut. he knows you're trying to push his buttons, to get him to snap.

and it was working.

he tugs roughly on your hair, his eyes narrowing as he glares down at you.

"oh, you think i'm just an easy lay, huh? someone you can use whenever you need to, but then you can toss me aside when you're done? is that what you think i am?"

you can barely speak as he goes rougher on you, your words broken up by moans and gasps of pleasure as his cock bullies your cervix.

your eyes are closed, head thrown back, and all you can get out is a desperate repetition of "no," and "sorry," as you mewled with pleasure and submission.

katsuki loosens his grip on your hair a bit, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as you moan from underneath him.

he loves the way your voice trembles when you apologize, how you get all sweet and vulnerable when he's got you like this.

it's like you're a totally different person when you're not fighting and arguing, and he can't get enough of it.

"yeah? you sorry, huh?" he lands another hard smack on your ass again, another whimper rolling off of your tongue. "you sorry for callin' me names, sayin' things to piss me off?"

"yes, yeah, 'm...sorry... bakugo," you repeat through gasps of pleasure, almost pleading and surrendering to him. "...'m sorry..."

katsuki lets out a low growl, feeling something in his chest tighten at the sound of his name on your lips, your voice soft and vulnerable.

he's not used to seeing you be submissive, his grip on your hips tightening again. what he's used to is you calling him by his name, always in a tone full of sarcasm and irritation. but hearing his name from you, spoken like that...

it's driving him absolutely feral.

"tch. sorry enough to let me do whatever i want to you?" he mutters, his voice rougher than usual, massaging your doughy ass.

you nod, head bobbing up and down feverishly, your face hot from embarrassment. your chest rises and falls as you pant, feeling desperate and needy, the sounds of your rapid breaths echoing in the room.

"yeah? whatever i want?"

"shit— yeah.. anything.. just get on with it, dammit.."

katsuki's eyes narrow as he stares down at you, a sly grin spreading across his face. he knows exactly what he wants, and he can already tell it's going to catch you off guard.

"anything, huh? lean back a little f'me."

you bite down on your lip, contemplating what his next move might be before you gingerly get up on your knees, leaning back against him. you feels his chest pressed firmly against your back, the heat from his skin sinking through you.

katsuki grins, his hand letting go of your hair, moving down to your hips, using his grip to arch you back against him. his other hand grips your chin, angling your head back so he can look you in the eye. he stares down at you for a moment, his gaze intense, his face so close to yours.

then, without warning, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing down on yours.

you gasp into the kiss, the sound muffled and lost in a tangle of messy, desperate need. you struggle to keep up with the kiss, overpowered by the relentless pace he sets.

as rough as he was, it felt vulnerable. strangely sweet. your lips part and a soft moan escapes, your body shivering and trembling against his.

his tongue pushes into your mouth as he kisses you deeply, desperately, his hands roaming over your body like he can't get enough of you.

he's wanted this for so long, but he never imagined it would feel this good.

katsuki's kisses become more feverish, his hands moving down to your hips, guiding you against him as his body presses against you from behind.

he breaks the kiss with a ragged breath, pushing you down against the couch, your face pressed into the cushions. his hand finds your scalp again, tugging on your hair again as he watches his cock sink deeper into your pussy.

"shit... was that what you were expecting?"

you cry out, the sound muffled by the couch. your body shudders and writhes, your hands clenching into tight fists as you shakes your head, lost in the overwhelming sensation.

"n-no.."

"figured.. but i'm willing to bet you liked it anyway."

you scoff, trying to feign annoyance or irritation, but there's no mistaking the flush on your cheeks or the way your body trembled when he kissed you.

you can't deny the intense and silent yearning when he kissed you, the way it makes you crave his rough touch, the temptation to melt into his arms all too strong despite your resistance.

"oh, you can deny it all you fuckin' want, but your body is tellin' me something different," katsuki grins, watching your body betray your feigned annoyance."act like you hate me, i don't give a shit. but i know you love this."

you pant out weakly, voice trembling and quavering as you whimper. "you're so... damn... mean."

katsuki chuckles, his grip on your hips tightening further as he grinds against you.

"that's right. i'm the worst, aren't i? and yet here you are, drippin' wet on my dick, all because of me."

his rough treatment of you, the way he makes your body shiver and quiver, his dirty, filthy words egging you on, has you trembling and embarrassed, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure.

every muscle in your body tensed, your back arching against him as a cry escaped you. you were close. so, so close.

"bakugo, please... i.. i'm... gonna...." you moan out as you push your ass onto his abdomen, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you take everything he gives you.

katsuki's body shivers as you moans out his name, the sound sending a wave of electricity through him.

"tch, already?" he clicks his tongue at you, deliberately slowing down the pace. you let out a strangled whine, your body shaking in his grip. "c'mon, you better not get off now... i'm not done with you yet."

"bakugooo... i'm close... please..." you mewled, pleading and needy. "please, i need... i need... " you can't even finish the sentence, your mind consumed with the single-minded desire for him. and his dick.

"begging now, huh? what happened to all that attitude? did i fuck it out of ya that fast?"

"you fuckin' wish... shit... i don't care anymore... just make me feel good, please..."

your body trembles against him, shaking with need and desperation. you're pleading, begging him to give you what you need. you can't even form a coherent thought anymore, your mind fogged up raw, unrelenting need. the need for him.

"you really need it that badly?" katsuki coos almost condescendingly, loving how much you're falling apart beneath him. "you're shaking like a fuckin' leaf. this tight little pussy clenching down on me... you're pathetic."

"fuck, fuck, i'm sorry," your gasps and moans have evolved into a desperate whimpers and needy whines, your body shaking as tears stream down your face. "just need you.. need you so much, please.."

the pleasure overwhelms you, feeling like you're going to come apart at the seams. your body quivers uncontrollably against him, like a puppet whose strings are held by his every touch.

katsuki's mind is swimming, overwhelmed by the sight of you falling to pieces beneath him. he looks down at you, taking in her quivering, desperate state. he's never seen you so vulnerable, so needy for him. it's a sight he didn't know he needed to see.

he gently pulls you up from the couch, using his hand on your wrist. he leans over to you, his lips fanning over your ear, his breath warm on your skin.

"look at me, princess. let me kiss you again."

he calls you princess, not just because of your bratty and entitled demeanor, but because deep down, he wants to treat you like one.

he wants to pamper and spoil you, wrap you in luxurious silk sheets and never let you want for anything.

but admitting that was not easy for him.

so he covers it up, telling himself it's just your attitude that earned the nickname, not any weird, hidden desires.

your face is flushed, feeling embarrassed by his simple request and the intimacy of the moment. but the pleasure he's given you leaves your body and mind too fogged to object. with a breathless gasp, you turn to face him.

katsuki's eyes rake over your face, taking in all of you. for a moment, he looks at you with an expression you've never seen on his face before.

it's softer, gentler than his usual cocky grin or mean glare.

he leans in close, his face a few inches away from yours, his eyes fixated on your lips. slowly, he closes the distance between them, his mouth capturing yours in a surprisingly tender kiss.

as your lips met, it's like the world melts away. it's a feeling so unfamiliar to both of you, but at the same time, it feels so unbelievably right.

you gasp as he pulls away, the sudden absence of his touch leaving you with a pang of emptiness, your body still trembling and buzzing with need.

you want more. but you can't ask him that.

his eyes are fixed on your face, watching your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment as you meet his gaze. he can't help but chuckle, his usual cocky smirk back on his face.

"what, you gettin' all shy on me? after everything we've done tonight, this is what does it for you?"

"shut up..." you click your tongue, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it's quickly unraveling when he starts his relentless pace again.

your words are broken between gasps and moans as he goes harder, your body arching needily against him. "oh, fuck.. yes, bakugo... please, 'm.. gonna..."

"yeah? you gonna cum for me, princess?" he grins, landing another hard smack on your ass. "you gonna cum all over this dick?"

katsuki's breath hitches at your nod and whiny pleas, his body shuddering against you. he can feel how close you are, and he's not sure how much longer he can hold on himself.

"cum for me, princess. wanna feel you clenching down on me, c'mon..."

at his words, you completely shatter against him, your body trembling, vibrations sending down his body as you whimper and moan against him. your gummy walls clamp down on his cock, painting your insides a creamy white of your own.

katsuki watches you unravel from beneath him, clicking his tongue when he feels close. he pulls his cock out of you, stroking it feverishly.

"fuck," he groans, spurting his thick seed onto your back, digging his nails into your hips.

you huff, chest heaving with each breath as you look back at him, clear frustration and arousal on your face.

"why didn't you.. cum inside?" your voice is a breathless whisper, filled with both annoyance and a hint of pleading need.

his eyes widen a little, his face flush as he lets out a breathless chuckle. "did you want me to?"

he reaches down, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. it's such a contrast from the rough way he treated you earlier, like a completely different side of him.

you scoff and look away, trying to hide the truth behind a pout. even the act of looking away feels like a betrayal to what you truly wanted.

"hmph. why would i want something like that..."

katsuki grins at your defiant expression, loving the feign indifference. he reaches out, tilting your chin up so you're looking at him again.

"you can admit it, y'know. i won't make fun of you."

you pout, as if trying to act like the thought hadn't crossed your mind before. but your words betray your feigned disinterest, cheeks flushed.

"maybe i do. do it inside next time."

his smirk falters a little, showing that gentle look in his eyes again like he's surprised, but not displeased, at your implication.

"you want a next time, princess?"

"yeah... unless, this is a one-time thing?"

it's a question that betrays you, giving him a peak of what you realled wanted. you're trying to sound casual, but the subtle tremble of your voice nearly gives you away.

katsuki notices the tremor in your voice, the hint of vulnerability behind the cool facade. he can tell when you're putting up that tough exterior.

"you really think I'd be done with you after just one night?" he chuckles, his hand moving down to your, rubbing the hot red nails marks.

"oh," your cheeks flushed, embarassed by his words. but you could feel your heart beat hard against your chest as you realize what he meant. "so.. will there be a next time?"

katsuki grins down at you, his hand roaming over you body, still taking in the sight of you, flushed and breathless beneath him.

even if he didn't want to (but deep down, he did), he found it nearly impossible to deny you. it was as if you had some sort of power, a hold on him that made his usual attitude falter.

he was caught, wrapped around your finger, a puppet to your whims, unable to do anything but surrender to you.

and he wanted nothing else.

"oh, there will definitely be a next time, princess. i'm nowhere near done with you yet."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚���‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ part two ! ]

[tender-rosiey]

req- jujutsu characters physically straining themselves and asking yn for help

take care:)

"I'M ONE CRAMP AWAY FROM A MELTDOWN"

— gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, and toji physically straining themselves and asking for help

GOJO SATORU:

satoru is sprawled on the floor, looking like he’s been hit by a truck, though you know he’s just playing it up.

his dramatic groans echo around the room, the kind that would make anyone believe he’s on the verge of death.

“wifeyyyy,” he groans, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes as he lays flat on his back. “I think I’m dying.”

you glance at him, deadpan. “from what, exactly?”

“from sheer exhaustion,” he replies, his voice dripping with mock despair. “it’s the worst kind of pain. the kind you can’t fight.”

you cross your arms, watching him for a moment. “really? because I’m pretty sure you’re exaggerating.”

“exaggerating?”

satoru lifts his hand weakly, like he’s reaching out for help. “I wish I were. But no, sweetheart, this is real. I’ve given everything to protect this world, and now—now I’m paying the price.”

you sigh, rolling your eyes, but you can’t help but feel a little amused by his theatrics.

still, there’s no denying that he’s probably worn out from the mission, even if he’s acting like a drama king about it.

“alright, alright,” you say, bending down next to him. “but if you’re truly in this much pain, maybe you should let me help you.”

his eyes flash with relief the moment you say that. he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. “oh, you’re such a lifesaver, wifey. I knew I could count on you.”

you smirk, kneeling next to him. “I’m not sure how much I can help with your exaggerated suffering, but I’ll give it a shot.”

satoru immediately sits up, all too eager, his arm still draped over your shoulder as if he’s the one about to collapse at any second.

you guide him onto the couch, a little more forcefully than he probably expected. he lets out an exaggerated gasp of thanks, making a show of how much effort it took.

“now, my shoulders,” he says, voice full of mock desperation, “they’re absolutely killing me. no one has shoulders as heavy as mine.”

you raise an eyebrow but don’t argue. “I can’t believe I love you,” you mutter, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

you start massaging gently, fingers working through the tight muscles that are starting to give way beneath your touch.

satoru’s whole body seems to relax under your hands.

“mmm, that’s the stuff,” he sighs dramatically, his head tilting back as if you’ve just performed some kind of miracle. “you’re so good at this. how do you manage to be perfect in every way?”

you roll your eyes, but your hands keep working, pressing into the sore muscles along his shoulder blades.

his response is immediate—he melts further into the couch, eyes half-lidded as he hums with contentment.

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he mutters. “this is pure bliss, sweets. no one else could do this to me like you do.”

“yeah, yeah,” you say, giving him a kiss on his cheek that makes him melt yet again against the couch.

GETO SUGURU:

suguru stumbles into the living room, looking completely drained, his shoulders sagging as he lets out a soft groan.

he rubs his eyes before glancing at you. "I think I’ll just take a bath and call it a day."

you raise an eyebrow, already sensing his exhaustion. "you sure? I could help, you know."

suguru shakes his head, grinning weakly. "I’m fine. Really. I can manage."

a few moments later, suguru is in the warm bath, steam rising lazily from the water.

he leans back, letting his muscles relax as he sinks into the tub, his body visibly easing into the heat. you stand behind him, fingers gently working through his hair, lathering the shampoo into his scalp.

the soft scent of lavender fills the air, mixing with the quiet splashing of water as your hands move through his hair.

suguru sighs, his body melting into the heat. "I am a weak man," he mutters.

you let out a small laugh, fingers moving in slow, soothing circles. his muscles are finally unwinding, and you can feel the weight of his day leaving him, bit by bit.

"yeah?" you tease softly, grinning. "but, you know, I think I’m pretty good at this, huh?"

he chuckles lazily, his voice low and relaxed. "you’re amazing," he admits, his tone affectionate. "I’m lucky to have you around."

you glance at him, still working through his hair, and playfully raise an eyebrow. "how about you? how was your day?"

suguru lets out a small sigh, clearly unwinding further at the sound of your voice.

“long. you know how it is. a million things to do and never enough time for it." he grins a little. "but it’s always better when I’m with you."

you shake your head, laughing softly. "you’re lucky I’ve got the patience to deal with you."

suguru raises a hand, giving a lazy wave. "You’re doing more than that. I’m starting to think you could make a career out of this."

you smirk, rubbing the shampoo deeper into his hair. "please, I have better things to do than take care of you all the time."

suguru cracks an eye open, a playful glint shining through. he reaches out, grabbing your wrist gently. "I don’t know about that. this is pretty nice."

you shrug casually, your smile warm. "someone’s got to look after you."

the bath continues in peaceful silence for a while, only the sounds of water splashing softly around you.

suguru’s body relaxes further, his tense muscles finally letting go. he sinks deeper into the tub, eyes closed again, a contented smile on his lips.

"thanks," he says quietly.

you continue washing his hair, the smile on your face softening. "anytime, silly.”

suguru chuckles softly, "you know, you’re kind of perfect."

you roll your eyes, but your fingers never stop working through his hair. "you’re delirious, suguru. stop with the nonsense."

suguru gives a lazy smile, his eyes still closed. "no, I mean it. you’re beautiful, and I’m lucky you married me, my beautiful, pretty, kind—"

before he can say anything else, you splash him with water. "okay, okay! enough with the sappy stuff!"

NANAMI KENTO:

the sound of a low, frustrated sigh greets you as you walk into the living room.

you spot kento sitting on the floor, his back straight against the couch, head tilted slightly as though trying to work out a knot in his neck.

his usual composed expression is marred with a faint furrow of irritation.

“kento?” you call, stepping closer. “why are you sitting on the floor like someone left you there?”

“it’s nothing,” he replies too quickly, brushing off the question. but the way his hand instinctively moves to rub the back of his neck betrays him. “just…tired.”

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “tired? or is this about your neck? because you’ve been hunched over paperwork for hours, haven’t you?”

kento doesn’t answer right away, but his silence is telling.

he sighs and tilts his head back to meet your gaze, looking more like the overworked salaryman he used to be before he rejoined jujutsu tech.

“It’s just a bit stiff. I’ll manage.”

“oh, you’ll manage,” you echo, crouching down in front of him. “right up until you can’t turn your head tomorrow. then what?”

he narrows his eyes slightly, as if to say I’m not that fragile, but you cut him off before he can protest.

“kento,” you say firmly, softening your tone, “you’re literally built like a tank, but even tanks need maintenance. let me help.”

“I don’t want to bother you,” he mutters, his voice quiet but sincere. “you’ve had a long day too.”

“and yet I have plenty of energy to take care of my husband,” you reply, smirking. “now come on, just humor me.”

kento hesitates for a moment. eventually, he relents with a soft sigh. “fine.”

you shift to kneel behind him, your fingers already reaching for the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.

“lean forward a bit,” you instruct, and when he does, you gently press your thumbs into the tight spots, working in slow, deliberate circles.

kento lets out a low, contented hum that sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“see?” you tease, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to the top of his head. “not so bad, right?”

“it’s…enjoyable,” he says, though his voice carries a faint warmth that tells you he’s enjoying this far more than he’s letting on.

you chuckle, your hands moving to his shoulders. “you know, I’d say you owe me for this, but I think this is my repayment.”

“repayment for what?”

“for saving you,” you quip, grinning. “because if you’d stayed like that any longer, you’d have turned into a statue.”

kento exhales a quiet laugh, his head tilting slightly as your fingers find another sore spot. “you’re relentless.”

“only because I love you,” you reply with a wink, leaning forward to press your cheek against his for a moment.

he reaches up, catching one of your hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “and I love you too.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

sukuna’s broad frame fills the doorway as he strides into the room, his bloodstained robes trailing behind him.

you glance up from your seat, unimpressed by the spectacle. it’s the usual aftermath of his “excursions.”

he’s all sharp angles and arrogance, but there’s a stiffness in his movements that you don’t miss.

“back already?” you ask, arching a brow as you sip your tea.

he scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “they were weaklings. barely worth my time.”

yet, as he lowers himself onto a cushion with a low grunt, his shoulders twitch ever so slightly. he rolls one, then the other, his jaw tightening just enough for you to catch it.

“something wrong?” you ask, your tone feigning innocence, though your sharp gaze betrays your amusement.

“watch yourself,” he warns, crimson eyes narrowing. “you forget who you’re speaking to.”

“hard to forget when you insist on reminding me every other breath,” you reply dryly, setting your cup down and standing.

“but I’m also observant enough to know when you’re too proud to admit you’re in pain.”

“I’m not in pain,” he snaps, though the way his hand instinctively moves to his neck betrays him.

“of course not,” you agree, stepping closer with a smug tilt of your head. “the great sukuna couldn’t possibly be sore after annihilating half the countryside.”

he glares at you, his pride clearly battling the ache in his shoulders. “you’re playing with fire, woman.”

“and yet you haven’t burned me yet,” you counter with a sly smile. “turn around.”

he doesn’t move, his jaw tightening as if to challenge you. but when you cross your arms and stare him down with an unimpressed look, he huffs and turns his back to you.

“stubborn,” you mutter under your breath, stepping behind him. his shoulders are massive, the tension in them practically radiating.

you place your hands on them, and he immediately stiffens.

“relax,” you say, kneading the taut muscles beneath your fingers. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“pity,” he mutters, though there’s a begrudging amusement in his tone.

you press your thumbs into a particularly tight knot, and he lets out a low, involuntary sound—not quite a groan but enough to make you smirk.

“see? even you can’t argue with results,” you tease, leaning closer as your hands work into his shoulders.

“you’re enjoying this too much,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans into your touch, his body betraying him.

for a while, the room is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the hearth and the sound of your hands working against his muscles.

you press a little harder into a stubborn knot, and he exhales sharply.

“still acting tough?” you ask, your voice softer now.

“I am tough, you insolent wife,” he retorts, but the edge in his voice has dulled.

you chuckle, brushing a stray lock of his hair aside with one hand while the other presses into his neck. the gesture is so tender, enough that sukuna goes still for a moment.

“your hair’s a mess,” you murmur, your fingers trailing briefly over the side of his face before pulling back.

he turns his head slightly, his crimson gaze meeting yours over his shoulder.

you notice the slight softening of his eyes before he scoffs, rolling his shoulders as you step back little. “you’re getting too comfortable.”

“how scandalous,” you hum, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

he frowns, hand moving to hold the back of your head as he pulls you closer.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

toji stumbles through the bedroom door, a look of mild exhaustion on his face. his shirt’s torn at the sleeve, a fresh scrape on his cheek, and he’s limping just slightly, though he's trying to hide it. you glance up from your book, raising an eyebrow.

“you’re a mess,” you say, putting your book down.

he groans. “I’m fine. Just got into a little scuffle with a couple of idiots.” he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it carelessly onto the chair, wincing slightly as he pulls it off.

you tilt your head, inspecting him carefully. “uh-huh. that’s the same thing you always say. you’re looking a little too beat up to be fine.”

toji snorts. “it’s nothing. just a bruise here, scratch there—don’t make a big deal out of it.”

you raise your hands in mock surrender, but your eyes narrow playfully. “uh-huh. right. and I suppose your limp is just for fun too?”

toji looks down at his leg, then back at you, clearly trying to avoid the topic. “I’m fine, alright? really. you don’t need to play nurse tonight.”

you get up from the couch, walking over to him with a slight smirk. “I’m not playing nurse, toji. but if you’re going to act like a stubborn idiot, I guess I’ll have to do something about it.” you poke at his shoulder lightly, knowing full well he hates being fussed over.

he lets out a low, tired chuckle. “yeah, yeah. I know. you’ve got a thing for fixing me up.”

you roll your eyes, tugging at his shirt and guiding him toward the couch. “I’m not fixing you up. I’m just stopping you from walking around like a zombie for the rest of the night.”

he lets out an exaggerated groan, but he sinks down onto the couch anyway. “you’re lucky you’re cute. go ahead, doctor.”

you sit beside him and start gently untying his shoes. “you always say that when you’re trying to avoid admitting you need help.”

toji lifts an eyebrow, looking amused. “I don’t need help. I just like your hands on me.” he smirks.

you shake your head, unbothered. “just sit still for a second, alright?”

he chuckles as you work, peeling off his shoes and massaging the tension out of his feet. you can feel the stress in his muscles, the fatigue from the day’s battle lingering.

“see?” you poke at his calf with your finger. “this is what happens when you refuse to listen. you get all tense and grumpy.”

toji groans, but it’s not from pain. he stretches his leg out further, enjoying the relief. “you know, this doesn’t feel too bad…”

“you’re welcome,” you tease, your hands moving up his legs, working on his calves. “maybe next time you won’t play the ‘I’m fine’ card when you’re clearly not.”

he grins and looks down at you, his eyes softening just a bit. “I’ll think about it, but no promises. you know how I am.”

you laugh quietly, continuing your work. “yeah, I do. stubborn to a fault.” you finish with his feet, giving them a final rub before standing up. “alright, mister, I’m done here. go rest up before I have to start giving you more ‘doctor visits.’”

“I didn’t know you were into roleplay—”

“one more word, and you will be kissing the couch tonight.”

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[yuzujjn]

ʬʬ. ! I WISH I HATED YOU : PARK SUNGHOON ── 𝗌𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗒, 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇

frat boy!sunghoon ੭୧ fem!reader ：（ 𝓯 ） 1OOOwc. ── partying, drinking, kissing, lots of bickering, slightly suggestive && ⠀ ｡｡ ARCHiVE ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱

DANiELLE : happy sunghoon day ! also for my jenni bby (> <)

FRAT PARTIES WEREN'T YOUR THING. the sticky floors, the overwhelming smell of cheap cologne, stale beer, and bad decisions hanging in the air—none of it appealed to you. but chaewon had begged. your best friend had pleaded, promising it would be fun, and somehow, you’d caved.

what chaewon didn’t mention was that he would be here.

park sunghoon. resident frat golden boy, heartbreaker, and the bane of your existence.

you spotted him across the room almost immediately. he was impossible to miss, surrounded by a group of people laughing at whatever cocky thing he was saying. his dark hair fell perfectly into place, framing his annoyingly handsome face. he exuded that careless charm that made everyone fawn over him, and you hated how attractive he was.

as if sensing your glare, his gaze flicked to yours, and the smirk that tugged at his lips made your stomach twist in irritation.

you turned away quickly, pushing through the crowd to find the kitchen. maybe a drink would help.

but, of course, fate wasn’t on your side tonight.

“what are you doing here?”

the familiar, infuriating voice made you groan before you even turned around. there he was, leaning casually against the counter, holding a red solo cup like it was an accessory to his smirk.

“getting a drink,” you said flatly, reaching for the vodka. “is that a problem?”

“not at all.” he leaned closer, and his cologne—woodsy, expensive—clouded your senses. “just surprised you’re here. thought frat parties weren’t your scene.”

“they’re not.” you poured your drink and stepped away.

“then why come?”

“because chaewon begged me.”

he chuckled. “and here i thought you came to see me.”

you rolled your eyes, lifting your cup to your lips. “you really think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

“not everything.” he grinned, watching you with an irritatingly amused expression. “just most things.”

you opened your mouth to snap back, but chaewon appeared out of nowhere, grabbing your arm.

“there you are!” she beamed, blissfully ignoring sunghoon’s presence. “we’re playing seven minutes in heaven. come on!”

“no way.” you shook your head, already backing away.

“yes way!” she tugged on your arm. “it’ll be fun. stop being boring.”

before you could argue, chaewon dragged you toward the living room, where a circle had already formed around a bottle in the center.

“this is a bad idea,” you muttered, sitting reluctantly beside her.

chaewon grinned. “it’s just a game. what’s the worst that could happen?”

you didn’t have time to answer because sunghoon sauntered into the circle, taking a seat directly across from you. his smirk widened as his eyes met yours.

“great,” you muttered.

“you love having me around,” he teased.

“like a headache,” you shot back.

the bottle was spun. it clattered loudly against the hardwood floor, spinning so fast that the faces around it blurred. your heart pounded irrationally as it slowed—click, click, click—until it stopped.

pointing directly at you.

and sunghoon.

the room erupted into cheers and whistles.

“absolutely not,” you said, already standing.

“rules are rules!” chaewon said, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you back down.

before you could protest further, chaewon grinned devilishly and shoved you toward the nearest closet.

“chaewon, I swear—”

the door slammed shut behind you, cutting off your protest.

you turned around, and there he was, standing way too close for comfort in the dimly lit, cramped space.

“this is your fault,” you hissed, crossing your arms.

“mine?” sunghoon raised an eyebrow, amused. “you could’ve said no.”

“i did say no.”

he shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. “well, we’re here now. might as well make the most of it.”

“you’re impossible.”

he stepped closer, and you backed up instinctively, your shoulders hitting the wall.

“relax,” he said, voice low, teasing. “what, you think I’m gonna try something?”

“you always try something.”

he smirked, taking another step forward. “only because it’s fun to watch you get all flustered.”

“i am not flustered,” you snapped, even though your heart was racing.

“sure you’re not.” his eyes flicked down to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your cheeks burn.

“don’t even think about it,” you warned.

“why not?” his voice was softer now, the teasing edge giving way to something heavier. “afraid you might like it?”

“you’re unbelievable.”

he chuckled, but his hands moved to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in. “say the word, and i’ll back off.”

your breath caught, heat prickling at the back of your neck.

you should tell him to back off. you should push him away. but instead, you grabbed his shirt, yanking him down to crash your lips against his.

the kiss was fiery, chaotic, and everything you hated to admit you’d wanted. his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

his fingers tightened slightly, thumb brushing the sliver of skin exposed by your top. it sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated how easily he unraveled you.

he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and his teeth grazed your bottom lip, making your knees weak.

you gasped softly, and he smirked against your mouth, the bastard.

“still hate me?” he murmured, voice low and breathless.

you shoved his chest—half to steady yourself, half because his smugness was unbearable. “yes. more than ever.”

he grinned, leaning down as if to kiss you again. “funny. didn’t feel like it.”

outside, the muffled sound of someone banging on the door broke the moment.

“time’s up!”

sunghoon groaned, his forehead pressing against yours for a beat before he pulled back, his hands lingering at your waist.

“guess we’ll have to finish this later,” he said, voice dripping with confidence.

you glared at him, cheeks burning, and shoved him again.

“dream on, park.”

but as you stepped out of the closet, chaewon’s knowing grin waiting for you, and the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you couldn’t shake the sinking realization that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t hate him as much as you thought.

[bleufu1]

ALL MINE.

IN WHICH..: good ol’ preacher boy aka Sammie Moore, isn’t as calm an’ loses his cool for a bit.

Mississippi 1932

Sammie x Black!Reader

| Smut, 18+, NSFW, Oral(r!receiving), a lil possessive, semi-public (iykyk), talking through it, reader is addressed as ‘sugar’(idea from@gweelczz 🫶), sammie being a fein..(BEST EATER.)|

The barn was hot. people dancing, singin’ you name it. You had some couples serenading on the floor in their own worlds and some young folk swingin’ to their hearts content.

Smoke and Stack was busy lookin around the place making sure no one with a chip on they shoulder came in ruining the night, cornbread and slim was off arguing somewhere over god knows what. Annie was maintaining the bar and food the best she could, with some help of Pearline in the back.

And our good ol’ Sammie, known locally as Preacher boy, up on the stage strumming his guitar till his fingers bled. One of the two things that made this boy happy. That was playing the blues, and her.

She was his everything. The reason he lived and breathed. Hell she’d be the death of him if she wanted to. They met when they were young — ain’t know what love was but damn sure felt it. Seeing her for the first time Sammie thought he’d seen an angel sent as a gift from the savior himself, that if heaven on earth was real she was the proof.

Sammie was sweet to her. Buying her flowers any chance he got. Always spending the time he had with her, singin’ to her and being in her space, not that she minded. She cared and catered for him the same soft way he did with her. She loved that boy and he felt it. When he layed with her, when she kissed him quick, when he loved on her. The feeling was mutual and it was strong. Everyone knew she was his, and he was hers.

Everyone knows her as _____.— But Sammie knows her as ‘Sugar’. An old nickname he gave her for her sweet face an’ the smooth silk of her voice that gave her anything she wanted. People always told Sammie that voice of hers would get you to do anything under the sun, and boy did it.

From up on the stage, strumming his guitar to the people of the joint Sammie could see her clear as day. Watching her shift from the bar getting a drink, to on the floor swaying her body to the music. The way she moved was captivating — made heads spin like a wheel. Her waist rolled to the beat on the ground. Hips swayed like waves — she caught every beat. Sammie couldn’t stop staring hell nobody could. That’s the thing with Sugar. She takes control of the ones around her without even trying.

Sammie kept playing, keeping his eyes on her. Then he felt a disturbance. Another thing Stack taught him was, never let another man think he gon take your spot — especially if he knows the seat is yours.

Sammie watched as a Man, stood about average height, making his way to her. He slid behind her, grinding against her keeping up with her rhythm. This Irked Sammie.

“Now what n’ the hell..” sammie’s voice came out low, and with a tone behind it he couldn’t quite place.

He ain’t the only one who noticed, Smoke and Stack peeped it too, making eye contact with Sammie. Sammie gave em’ a nod — ‘i got it handled.’

Sugar finally noticing the man, pushed him off. He ain’t even cute, ain’t cuter than her man she could tell you that much. “The fuck you doin’, huh? Fuck outta here—” She got in the man’s face, voice loud but stern and straight. She ain’t know who this man was an’ ain’t wanna get to know him either.

Like someone had be listening, Sammie came in and got in between Sugar and the Man. His face relaxed but his eyes saying somethin’ different. The man eyed him up and down before giving a sly smirk to the side of his face.

“What you gon’ do little preacher boy’ huh?”. “Ya ain’t but so big, fuck you gon’ do?”

Sammie was hot. Not the dance till your feet start to cry hot. More like i’m bout’ to clean the floor with this fool if he keep fuckin’ with me and mines. Random ass man gon’ come up in here, then got the nerve to hit up on a woman he knows ain’t his. Yeah, Sammie wasn’t having that. That’s his girl. His Sugar. His and ain’t gon’ be no sharing. He can’t risk giving up the one thing that gave him life other than oxygen itself.

“I advise you gets to goin’ — best for ya right about now.”

The man laughed in Sammie’s face. Doubled over and everything, like ol’ preacher boys act was the funniest thing in the world at this exact moment. “Or what, boy? You gon’ size me up in front of yo’ bitch?—” Sammie ain’t give him the time of day before he swung. A brawl set loose. Sammie knocked the man down, sending haymakers straight to the face. Sammie wasn’t no fighter — but he damn sure learned a thing or two from his cousins.

People were everywhere. Some tryna get away and spread out, others tried to break up the fight. The man swung on Sammie, busting his lip. Sammie punched back right on his jaw. The fight continued to cause chaos until Smoke came down yellin’.

“Fuck goin on — Get up boy!” Stack trailed behind, yoking up Sammie from off the man. Both were equally messed up but it looked like Sammie got more punches in.

“Well what you waitin’ for? Get yo’ ass on!” Stack grabbed the man and forced him out. Smoke looked at Sammie but Sammie ain’t look back. He was too busy staring at her.

They both made eye contact, she looked at him like she just seen a different side of him. Before anyone could say anything to him, he dragged Sugar to the back of the barn — closing and locking the door. He looked up and seen her with this look on her face, an’ she ain’t look happy.

“What the fuck was that, huh? We causing riots now?” placing a hand on her hip she eyed Sammie down. “Well? What’s your problem Sammie moore?” He stayed quiet for a second before opening his mouth.

“Boy you better say sumn’ for i get to thinking. Ain’t no reason to beat up a man — i understand why but there’s a better way to do it dammit.” Sammie looked down to the floor, body still but stern. The silence was tense — “Sammie speak the fuck up!-”

“He tried touchin’ what’s mines.”

Huh. Sugar was taken aback, not expecting that response. She stepped up slowly, lifting up sammie’s face with both of her hands. Did he feel threatened?She looked at him, his posture tense, eyes dark. Like he was thinkin. His breath fast from the fight and chest heaving. Sugar moved one of her hands to his chest. “You know i’m yours sammie, n’ill always will.” Brushing her thumb on his face.

He took her hand in his, lowering it from his face. He grabbed her by the waist, bringing her closer. Bringing his face down to hers, his breath fanning over her lips. “Yeah? You mines?” His voice low, smooth like fresh honey an’ melted butter, made Sugars knees almost buckle in. Nodding her head, Sugar wraps her arms around his neck.

Sammie’s hands started wandering, from her waist up to her sides and back down, lower. Then he started grabbing. Gripping at the fat of her sides, moving his hands to her ass and holding on. Sugars breathing quickened, she looked up into his eyes one more time. They were low, dark an’ filled with thoughts best to be confessed at the lords house.

Sammie kept touchin’ her, feeling her up. he knew what he was doing — and knew that it was working. he had her panting, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. He ain’t have much experience but he’s done enough with her to know what she likes. Biting his lip and holding her still by her hips, Sammie starts kissin’ on her shoulders.

It started soft, little pecks that made her breath hitch. as he continued up, the kisses started to get more deep, more intense. he slowly started trailing them to the barrels, keeping her in place. Sammie started sucking, bitting’n licking anything he could.

Poor Sugar was a mess. she started sweating, thighs were pressed together an’ her breathing was ragged. she held him by the neck, trying to push him closer into her neck somehow. as sammie more into her neck, sugar tried bucking her hips a little trying to feel something.

Sammie noticed, holding her hips in place. he looked up from her neck, looking at her and god she looked good. the sweat on her making her glisten in the light. “Aht aht — not yet baby. lemme make you feel good first alright’?”

“But sammie—”

Shutting her up with a kiss. It was deep, laced with lust and passion. he held her by the neck to push deeper into it. she held onto his back, her other hand anchoring her from falling. sammie slowly trailed his hands up her dress, raking it up her thighs. sugar stoped him mid act.

“w-wait sammie i been dancing all night now, i ain’t even get to freshen up-” cut off with a kiss again.

“Listen sugar, you’re beautiful. Regardless. I just wanna taste ya’ yeah? Lemme taste?” That voice, deep and sensual even without him trying. Makes him sound like he’s beggin’ and demanding at the same time.

he went under her dress, hiking her legs over his shoulders. met with sight of her he damn neat moaned himself. “like i said..beautiful. made just fo’ me.”

His breath fanned over her, till he finally dove in. And baby he was hungry.

He ate like she would be his last meal. Suckin’ and lickin’ at the same time. Stimulating her everywhere. sugar let out broken moans, holding onto a nearby shelf for support. keeping her other hand on sammie’s head.

“Oh — gods sammie..”

“Please baby..so good..”

“mmm..fuckk..”

Anything in the book to keep her distracted. sammie had her in a whirl. he hit a spot that had her arched, screaming loud. sammie wrapped his hands around her thighs an’ onto her waist keeping her in place.

“Don’t run from it, just let go — i’m right here alright? Let it be baby..” sugars grip on the shelf felt like she’d break it if she grabbed too hard. “oh, fuck yes — damn baby..”

Sammie started using his fingers, switching between that and using his mouth. having Sugar in a daze, she felt like she was floating. sammie looked up at her for a brief second. “All this for me right? yeah?”

Rapidly nodding and yessin’ — “Mhm, all you baby, please!”

“Say it again for me.”

“All you, n’its all yours — all of it!”

“mhm. all of it.”

He let out a low grumble, adding to the sense. her holding onto his shoulders for support. bucking into his mouth as much as she could.

“mhm, let go for me. ride it out.”

Sammie held onto her just as she did to him, like she’d slip and disappear if he did. he licked and rubbed all he could — loving her with all his might. like he was singing to her, making her feel him. making her feel his love physically. he wanted to make sure she only remembered him. that her body reacted even if she wasn’t touching him, that all he had to do was be in the room.

She bucked into his mouth more the best she could due to her restraints. she moaned and groaned, voice broken up by how loud she was screaming. She scratched his shoulders, back arching high off the wood — her movements getting more erratic and crazy. thighs shaking against sammie’s head, hips twitching. “Oh! Yes sammie i-i’m almost—!”

“Yeah, there you go baby. all’ for me.” he muttered against her. Holding him, she rode herself on his mouth. sammie licking up all the mess he made.

Getting up slowly, he lifts her up too an’ into his chest. “You still with me hun’?” a tired nod as a response made sammie laugh a little. “Maybe be nicer to me next time yeah?” with a lil’ laugh, Sugar looks up at him.

Sugar took him by his face planting a soft, lazy kiss to his face, hugging him after. squeezing him, he hugs back equally with the same warmth. she looks into his eyes with love and affection. His baby.

“All yours, Sammie. Nobody else alright?”

“Yeah. All mine.”

I hated this sm. 💔

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: More Than I’ve ever imagined

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Rating: General Audience

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: From morning sickness to belly lifts, Paige is by your side through it all.

Credits to @yailtsv and her mood board for the help of writing this

🏷️: @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @paigeluvvr

I knew Paige would be excited when we got the call confirming the IVF had worked, but nothing could’ve prepared me for how she reacted. She was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone, when I walked in holding the test results. The second I said, “It worked,” she jumped up so fast she nearly tripped over the coffee table.

“No way. No way. You’re serious?” Her eyes were wide, already glistening.

I nodded, and that was all it took. She lifted me off the ground, spinning us both around until I was laughing and begging her to put me down before I threw up for a different reason.

Morning sickness was hell.

But Paige? She was heaven-sent. No matter the time of day or night, if I was hunched over the toilet, she was right there with me—holding back my hair, rubbing slow circles into my back, and whispering soft encouragements.

“You got this, baby. I promise it won’t last forever,” she’d say, voice laced with concern. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here.”

She was always right there.

By the time we reached the second trimester, Paige and I were dying to know the gender, but I agreed to let her and Azzi handle the reveal. I should’ve known Paige would go over the top. The day of the baby shower/gender reveal, I walked into the venue thinking we were about to pop a balloon or cut a cake. What I did not expect was a giant box sitting in the center of the room.

“Paige,” I called out, suspicious. “Where are you?”

Azzi smirked but said nothing as she handed me a ribbon attached to the box.

“Go ahead,” she urged.

I pulled. The box flaps opened, and Paige—my ridiculous, over-the-top fiancée—popped out, beaming, with a sign that read “It’s a girl!” in sparkly pink letters. Her blonde hair? Completely dyed Sparkling Rosé pink.

“PAIGE!” I gasped, laughing in disbelief.

“Surprise!” she grinned. “I wanted to match our daughter.”

I couldn’t even be mad.

By the time my belly was really showing, I was struggling with the weight of it. My lower back constantly ached, and walking around all day was exhausting. Paige, with KK’s help, convinced me to let her do daily belly tapes and belly lifts. She took it so seriously—watching tutorials, making sure she didn’t pull too hard, and being extra careful when lifting my belly.

“You trust me, right?” she asked one evening, gently pressing the tape into place.

“Always,” I murmured, feeling the relief almost instantly.

The only thing we ever argued about during the pregnancy was my body pillow.

Paige hated it with a passion.

“That thing is evil,” she grumbled one night, glaring at it from her side of the bed.

“Paige, it helps me sleep,” I reasoned.

She rolled her eyes. “I can help you sleep. Just use me instead.”

I laughed it off—until one night when I felt absolutely miserable and couldn’t sleep no matter how much I tossed and turned. Paige, sensing my discomfort, took the body pillow away, tossing it to the floor.

“C’mere, baby,” she whispered, pulling me against her.

She guided one of my legs over her waist, acting as my human body pillow, and started rubbing soft, soothing patterns into my back.

“Relax,” she murmured. “I got you.”

That night, for the first time in weeks, I slept soundly. From then on, I didn’t even reach for the body pillow—I had Paige, and she was so much better.

The day of the birth was intense. Paige never left my side, holding my hand through every contraction, whispering sweet reassurances even when I wanted to scream. When our daughter, Zara Rosé, was finally in my arms, Paige let out a soft, choked laugh, brushing a tear from her eye.

“She’s perfect,” she whispered.

Neither of us could settle on a name at first, so we let the team decide. It only took an hour of chaotic group chat discussions before Zara Rosé Bueckers was officially chosen.

⸻

Two Years Later

Paige and I had kept Zara out of the public eye, choosing to enjoy our little family privately. It wasn’t until one of Ice’s Instagram Lives that everything changed.

I was braiding Ice’s hair while she answered fan questions, Paige lounging off-camera with Zara sitting on her lap, watching a show on Paige’s iPad.

One moment, everything was normal. The next, Zara turned to Paige and asked, clear as day, “Mommy, juice please?”

Silence.

Ice looked at me, eyes wide. Paige looked at me. I looked at the camera.

The chat exploded.

“Mommy???”

“Paige got a BABY?!”

“Y’ALL HID A WHOLE CHILD??”

I sighed, setting Ice’s hair down. “Welp.”

Paige groaned. “So much for keeping it quiet.”

At that point, there was no denying it. We confirmed it live, explaining why we kept Zara private and how we wanted to enjoy our time as parents before sharing her with the world.

To our relief, most fans were understanding.

That night, after Ice’s hair was done, Paige and I made it official with a simple Instagram post—a picture of Zara asleep between us with the caption:

“Worth every secret. 💞✨ #ZaraRosé”

⸻

As I lay in bed that night, Paige wrapped an arm around me, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder.

“You happy?” she murmured.

I turned to face her, brushing a strand of newly dyed pink hair from her face. Only cause Zara begged for her to have pink hair.

“More than I’ve ever imagined.”

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

P.s. this is pre-relationship, when your feelings are still untold...some of the guys are still awkward and some are not :')

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄

Visiting Price in his office was a common occurance. Sometimes you brought a drink with you, other times you just brought your old tired self.

This was one of those times.

And without looking up, he patted his knee and you hesitated. But only for a moment because as soon as you saw his pen stop scratching on the paper, you stalked over to him.

You rest your head on his shoulder, trying not to think about the goddamn awful day you had. You knew John would want to talk about it when you were ready. It's one of the things you love about him. He wants to help you no matter what.

As if on Instinctive John wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you in closer. Your face was flushes against his neck and your hands cling to his other arm.

John is so warm, and makes you feel so safe. Everyday is a battle for you; because you just want to fall into his arms and kiss him until you can no longer breathe.

But you can't, because he's your superior and you don't want to jeapordise anything.

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

Wide-eyed and trying not to move. Even his breathing becomes shallower. It's lucky he's wearing a mask otherwise there would've been a bright red Ghost for everyone to see.

Continues to death glare the others, placing a firm finger in front of his lips. Reminding them to SHUT UP.

No one is allowed to talk when you are asleep in the common area. On Ghost's literal orders.

But he never thought you would actually fall asleep on him.

It was a nice feeling. One that made him giddy inside. Like ... he had been chosen for something important.

And maybe he had. This could be a way for your body to tell Ghost that "I WANT YOU!" But unless you actually tell him, he isn't going to get it - or believe it.

𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊

Warmth travels to his cheeks as he realises that you've practically clung yourself to him and fallen asleep.

He had taken you to the movies because you had some spare time on your hands and wanted to feel like normal people for once.

But halfway through, drowsiness had overcome you, and consciousness faded away.

It was easy to fall asleep next to Gaz, whose smell and gentle heartbeat felt like heaven.

You hadn't wondered if this was going to far, you trusted Gaz enough to tell you if it was. But he would never tell you that.

Because there was no 'too far.' He would do anything for you. He just didn't know how to get you to see that.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

Oh our sweet boy Soap, he would become so goddamn giddy. His cheeks turn red as he moves ever so slowly to look at you.

Watching movies together was a common occurance. Your place or his, it didn't matter. Even the movie didn't matter - though you both argued over it relentlessly. It was a way for you both to spend more time together. A reason to say why you were late for ___

Your head had dropped a little and his eyebrows flew upwards. He would never live it down if you fell straight into his crotch area.

So he moved his arm around your shoulders and let you turn fully around to hug him.

Your face pressed against his neck, breathing in his scent.

"Tha gaol agam ort," he whispers into your hair. You only barely heard it. It means (I love you).

He only ever says it when you cannot hear him. But litte did he know you were catching on to certain Gaelic words. Maybe not at that moment, but you had better hearing than he thought you did.

𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

Did not know what to do, and in the midst of his panic, he had accidentally wriggled his shoulder. Which meant you curled up on his lap.

"Oh maus..." Konig whispered, afraid that you would wake up and freak out. But if he truly believed that, then he hadn't been paying attention to your friendship at all.

After ten minutes of the movie playing but Konig couldn't stop staring down at your curled form in his lap, he slowly and gently moved the hair from your face. Stroking your cheeks, running his fingers over your nose and forehead.

It was right then that he fell in love with you. Truly fell in love with you.

A monster and his love. That's how Konig saw the two of you.

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈

Charming, suave, flirtacious and utterly awkward when it comes to you.

He makes as much spare time as he can to spend it with you. And curling up on the couch seemed to be the best idea for today.

His large hands wrap around your form and pull you closer.

"Иди спать, малышка" (go to sleep little one) he says quietly, watching you intently as you drift into a deep slumber.

Maybe there is a gun wedged between him and the armrest, but he knows his lifestyle, and how many people want to kill him.

But that is nothing compared to spending time with you.

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍

Coughs; yes he actually coughs and a few times at that. Why did he cough? He has no clue. Was he trying to wake you up? See if you accidentally forgot he was there?

In all honesty he was panicking - this wasn't the type of friendship that you had. It was all banter and poking fun at each other.

Someone actually asked if Keegan was being bullied a few weeks ago.

He snorted and just walked away. It was probably the best thing that recruit could've said.

It was after a long mission and you barely had time to undress from your military clothes, when Keegan barged in and held up two family sized bars of chocolate. "As a thank you for having my back out there, kid."

You couldn't deny the fluttering in your stomach. But saving face was what you two did. So you took both of the offerings and laid down in bed. "If you're having all the chocolate, I'm not leaving" "I'm not giving it back Keegan." "Looks like you have a bunk buddy then."

And the tall man climbed into bed beside you awkwardly trying to get comfortable. "Jackass," you mumbled. But a slight smile was on your lips. And within an hour you fell asleep.

When you woke up, Keegan was practically ontop of you, melted chocolate on his lips and slight snoring coming from his nose.

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒

"What the fuck," he mutters to himself as you rest your head on his shoulder on the plane.

You had both been placed on a mission for months and now that it was over, you were exhausted (to say the very least).

The whole time you were together, there had always been bickering. Especially when you were undercover as a married couple.

So you were used to the hostility of Graves (even though he barely had any anymore when it came to you).

Hence, you were way too tired to give a shit. Honestly, if he were to wriggle you off, you would clutch his arm to keep him still.

But he didn't do that. Instead he feigns annoyance and rests his head against the back of his chair. His eyes flickering over to you every few seconds to see if you were okay (if that were to be brought up, he would say that he was looking out the window).

As the time went by, and you woke up, you found that Graves had found your hand and was clutching it.

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎

Sinks into you as well. His culture isn't so rigid as others. And showing affection means multiple things, but the main thing is that it means he cares.

Where your head lolled on his shoulder, he moved back on the couch, yawned, and pulled you down with him. Your sleeping head was rested gently against Ale's chest.

He knew about your feelings for him, and you knew about his, so this situation was awkward. He knew he had to step up and say something, but it had turned into a game of sorts. As if the first person who spoke up would lose.

But having you on his chest, smelling your hair, feeling the weight of your body on his, he decided that he would happily be the loser.

[hypnos333]

Never going back

Alastor x Angel Reader

Synopsis: You were turned to an Angel trapped in heaven trying to go back to your one true love while Alastor was livid and was turning crazy without you

“Let me tell about a story between two humans, One was a bad person protecting the one and only person he truly loves, the other? Was too good for the world almost perfect and kind. They were soulmates maybe that’s why heaven would think it would be to difficult to separate them. Separate her”

She died first and not long after he died too but in separate places. Separate Afterlives.

You heard of the Angel and human but this was about a Demon and a Seraphim Angel. Both higher ups.

You were the main reason for Alastor to help Charlie with the hotel. Just to see you and make sure you’re okay, to hold you, to be with you again forever this time. But you knew better to wish to far.

Adam wasn’t gonna let you out of heaven, and Sera was just as bad on not letting you go.

Back in hell.

Alastor sigh looking up high hoping to see you, his Wife. He was sane for now, today was the day Charlie and Vaggie would go to heaven to convince the higher up Angels. He was gonna give Charlie your ring to give back to you and that says everything on what’s going to happen.

You appeared during a meeting introducing yourself to Charlie and Vaggie with Adam on your left and another angel to your left.

“Hello I’m ____ a Seraphim Angel as well” You saiding bowing down to the two demons.

“___ don’t bow to these cunt” Adam mumbled making you chuckle nervously before trying to fly towards your seat. Charlie eyes were wide open the whole time. You were an Angel? What did Alastor had to do with an Angel?

She took your hand before you could go to your seat and place the diamond ring in your hand making you look at it hiding your shock. You took her hand back hiding the ring before smiling sadly “Tell me why I'm waiting for someone, That couldn't give a fuck about me? No, you can’t” You whispered to her before flying towards Adam to your seat.

You never argued with Adam, you knew about the extermination in hell. You weren’t apart of it but you couldn’t argue with Sera or Adam.

You weren’t gonna wait for him no more, Heaven was all you need right now to follow behind Sera or even your favorite Archangels. After the whole argument Charlie and Vaggie were sent back to hell and another thing that Charlie wanted to avoid was Alastor.

“My dear, How was it in Heaven? Any news about my Darling?” Alaster questions with her sinister smile making Charlie sweat in nervousness.

“W-Well you see ___ gave me back the ring and said she was done” Charlie blurted out making Alaster smile slowly turn into a frown focusing on those words.

That’s when he started glitching his smile became more scarier and sinister. Vaggie pulled Charlie back standing in front of her. “No she wouldn’t reject being back together, You must be mistaken my dear” Alaster demonic voice came out.

“No” “No” “No”

She wasn’t coming back but when the extermination starts he’ll make sure to get you. Where you can never go back, just like in their human lives he’ll keep you back in your cage.

⏩

[kingkat12]

chasing sleep (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, morning sex, attempting-to-stay-quiet sex, Roman loves tits (oops), reader on top, dub-con elements, needle-gate is back lol, dark!Roman returns, fluff, angst, and reader is fucking brainwashed cause girl stand up for yourself wdym

summary: everything seems to be going perfect for you-- you've got the guy, after all. however, you're still haunted by the life you gave away to be with him, and specifically, the girl you left behind. will Roman ever fully trust that you won't leave him?

word count: 11,308 (merry christmas tihi)

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: celebrating 700 followers AND christmas with this monster of a chapter!! I love all of you, thank you once again for your amazing support, I LOVE YOU!! this fanfic is nearing the end now, so... hold on tight for what's about to come;) ENJOY, MWAH<3

"You didn't say goodbye, and now a part of me believes that means you're coming back,"  

Over and over again, those words echoed in my ears. I had read it in a passage somewhere, probably in the new romance novel I had picked up a few days ago, and now it truly haunted me. Latched onto my guilt, my love, my very being-- I wasn't sure whether I was capable of letting it all go, despite how happy Roman made me. 

Was that maybe why I ended up right here, right now?

"Do you think it could work again?" Letha echoed, turning to me. Her legs were dangling off my roof as we sat by the edge. A soft breeze moved her long, blonde hair away from her shoulders, and just like that, I was reminded of how truly beautiful she was. It must be a genetic thing for all the Godfreys to be breathtaking. However, the look in Letha's green eyes told me something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was almost as though I was looking back at her with a grey-ish filter, like my vision was making it seem like we were sitting in a cloud of fog. None of this looked real. 

"What could?" I asked, turning to check my surroundings-- yeah, this was definitely my roof. Why were we here?

"Us," Letha's gaze awaited me as I faced her again, and it was heartbreakingly sad. "You and I. Our friendship."

It felt like I had dipped the tips of my fingers in cold water. "Letha... Come on," I reached for her hand, placing mine above hers with a sigh; "This ended a long time ago. I don't think we can salvage this--"

"But what if we could?" Letha's voice was so painfully sweet, so insistent. "Do you think it could work again?"

"What could?"

"Us," she breathed, turning her hand to intertwine our fingers with an unusually hard grip. It didn't feel so sweet anymore. "You and I. Our friendship."

The red lights in my mind went off like police sirens-- something was off. With my next glance at her hair, it was no longer that same warm shade of blonde. Now, I could argue it was actively turning white before my eyes. 

This wasn't real. "Letha?"

"Yes?"

"... Am I dreaming?"

Letha's eyes softened as the green in them dulled down, bordering a bleak color of grey. "Yes," she said. "I'm looping it until you're honest."

"What do you mean?--"

"You'll wake up when you tell me the truth. If you want to help your subconscious let go of the guilt, you should do it,"

My heart was actively breaking. Looking into Letha's blank eyes, I realized it reminded me of the look she had on her face when I first told her about Roman and me. "Ask, then,"

I could see her emotions clutching her soul like an unforgiving fist despite this only being a dream. My head didn't have any problems conjuring the image of her as a kicked, wounded puppy. She spoke; "Do you think it could work again?"

I indulged with a soft sigh; "What could, Letha?"

"Us," she said, allowing tears to well in her eyes. "You and I. Our friendship."

I felt it truly, brutally, that I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if it would break me to be honest. "I can't leave Roman for you," I breathed. "I won't. So I doubt you and I could be friends again as long as I'm still with him."

Letha nodded, turning away to look up at the full moon above us. The hand she had in mine was starting to turn cold. "Do you think it could work again?"

Oh, she was asking again-- was my answer maybe not the truth? Not the right answer? Did my sleeping subconscious know? "What could?" I echoed, growing tired of the loop we were caught in.

"Us," Letha closed her eyes as her chest raised and fell with her shallow breaths. "You and I. Our friendship."

I decided to give it less thought-- that was the key, sometimes. Roman had taught me that. Could it? Could it truly? "Honestly?"

"Honestly,"

It didn't take long before I realized tears were threatening to spill from my eyes too. I had missed the smell of Letha's sweet perfume. It smelled like home and a comforting hug hello. "Yeah. I think it could work," It was weird to hear me say it out loud; "I was always in love with Roman, but you... You taught me how to love in the first place. If we could both forgive each other, I think we'd have a chance. Yet... I don't think I ever can. Fully."

Letha didn't open her eyes, barely moved an inch. She opted for a short, melancholic nod as her lower lip gave in to a tremble. "I'm afraid I'll miss you forever," she whispered, mostly to herself. 

And suddenly, I couldn't feel the weight of her hand in mine. My gaze darted down to what was previously our union, only to find that she wasn't there anymore. I looked up to find a slow line of evaporating smoke, similar to a trail coming from Roman's cinnamon cigarettes. 

With my next heave of air accompanied by a lonely tear rolling down my cheek, I allowed my hand to reach out to touch the fog. It was thick, and it prickled the tips of my fingers to the likes of a cactus-- my sorrow clouded my instincts, and I didn't retract my hand. I hadn't allowed myself to feel any of this, after all. I had been so wrapped up in Roman, so wrapped up in the new feelings that washed over my body, that I had buried all the old ones. 

However, Letha kept her promise-- I was released.

Released from the loop, but with one foot remaining in the quicksand of guilt.

And as I awoke, it felt like I had been thrown into a cold pond. With a quick breath, I arched off the bed, gasping; "Roman!"  

Frantic beyond words, I heaved for air, blinking rapidly to wake myself up. The morning sun shone through Roman's curtains with soft rays, and I was hit with the smell of a burnt candle. Still hyperventilating, I put a hand on my chest as I tried to turn around, but to no avail.

Why couldn't I move? Was I maybe still stuck in the dream? 

Oh, wait-- It was at this moment that I realized I had a heavy arm around me, keeping me still with my back pressed up against human warmth. 

I let out a shaky breath, a relieved smile spreading across my lips-- Roman. 

My panic gradually subsided, washing away with calm waves as I turned my head to look at him. The sun did him good. Roman's hair was a very specific shade of brown, but in the sun, it had twinges of orange and golden hues. If I were to ever bring it up to him, I know he'd protest and say he was nowhere near ginger. He wasn't, and I was aware of that; as usual, he wouldn't get the point.

After some careful maneuvering, I managed to turn in Roman's heavy embrace, facing him. His plush lips were gently parted, and his long, brown lashes weighed over his eyes-- he also had a rather hefty case of bedhead which I couldn't help but find beyond endearing. Up close like this, completely still, I could see the nearly invisible freckles painting the apples of his cheeks, study the curve of his upper lip, and the scar-like indent on his right cheek. I dared to trace my thumb over it, feeling the softness of Roman's skin against the pad of my finger-- this was beauty unmatched.

He was so beautiful. 

And he was mine.

With the gentlest of pressures, I leaned forward, barely brushing my lips across Roman's. I didn't dare to fully kiss him. I wouldn't dare to wake him up. If only we could lay like this forever, undisturbed and alone.

Forever.

Memories of last night swarmed my brain, pushing out all the memories of Letha's sad, green eyes. I smiled as I realized the ache between my legs hadn't subsided-- the sting remained. It had actually happened. I hadn't made it all up. And I would've stayed engulfed in my cloud of complete and utter awe if Roman hadn't nearly scared the living crap out of me with the following.

His voice was raw with sleep as his eyes remained closed; "It's rude to stare,"

I practically arched right off the bed again. Had Roman not had his arms around me in a deadweight hold, I was sure I'd have flown right down to the floor. "Christ!" I hissed, shocked. How had he known? "Sorry... Did I wake you?"

Roman seemed too sleepy to grant me a proper answer, and he settled for a short grunt; "Sleep," 

"It's already morning!--"

"Don't care. Sleep," With his next breath, he pulled me even closer, until the tips of our noses were touching.

I was almost glad Roman's eyes were closed. At least he didn't see the hefty blush creeping up my cheeks. It dawned on me that he maybe had a point-- we had never had the pleasure of having nowhere to be, with no one to wake us up, or school to go to. 

There was one thing I wanted to say, but I was scared he'd get upset at my use of words-- no, fuck it; "You're so pretty," I whispered, reaching up to brush my fingers over the tips of his long, long lashes. "You can't expect me not to stare when you look like this."

Roman's brows drew together, yet he allowed me to do as I pleased in his sleepy state. "I'm not pretty,"

Knew it. "Yeah, you are,"

"Just go to sleep,"

"You're unbelievably pretty,"

"... Please just sleep,"

I was aware that I was annoying him, but something about the way his voice got all harsh in the morning made me want to hear him more. Roman's breath fanned over the skin at the tip of my nose with the gentlest breeze as I sighed against his lips; God, how I loved him. "I don't want to sleep... but I can lay here with you, if you want,"

Roman hummed, the dark rumble in his chest nearly vibrating the bed in the process. "Just don't go anywhere,"

"I won't,"

"Ever,"

"I won't,"

With Roman's next breath, I knew he finally believed me-- finally. It hit him for the first time last night that I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't going anywhere, and it hit him again now. Forever was a dead serious plan of mine, and I was intent on making him understand that no matter what. "You're prettier," he eventually said, nudging my nose with his. "You're like the first pleasant sip of water after you've recovered from a sore throat."

"... Specific,"

Roman let out a short, annoyed groan; "Sleep,"

I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to possibly face Letha again. With my palms against Roman's soft cheeks, I placed a loving kiss against his parted lips, feeling him sigh into me. "Good morning, Rome,"

He smiled, fulfilled, as though he couldn't hold it back anymore; "Good morning, baby,"

"Did you at least sleep well?--"

"Sleep!"

"... But I really don't want to,"

With another sigh, Roman stirred, pulling me closer to press a lazy kiss to my jaw. "Either you go back to sleep, or we fuck. You gotta give me something to work with, here,"

I stilled. "That's... not a bad idea,"

Roman's classic smirk illuminated my morning. "Turn around, then,"

"Huh?--"

"Trust me,"

Sometimes, when I was lonely, before everything with Roman, I used to kiss the skin between my knuckles and imagine someone else was kissing me. The small sounds, and the tingling sensation pooling in my stomach, would distract me from the unbearable feeling of loneliness. The reality of it.

Which is why, when Roman brought my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to my knuckles before turning me around, I knew I wasn't alone.

Actually, it wasn't just that that showed me I wasn't-- the repeated strokes of Roman's cock filling me was certainly reminder enough.

It was that sort of lazy morning sex I had only read about in those odd novels my mom would hide around the house, or heard about from my friends which I no longer had. This was a different type of sex from yesterday's, which had been so highly connected and emotional-- and this was not to say that this right now wasn't both connected and emotional, but it was... comforting. Like we were taking joy in being able to do just this. To enjoy one another in a sleepy, slow form.

Roman's grip around my throat wasn't hard or choking-- it was more of a hold to keep me in place as he let out a breathy grunt against my shoulder, sinking into me with slow, lazy strokes from behind. "We should do this more often," Roman murmured against my ear, listening to my small whimpers. "Isn't this fun?"

I could hear his stupidly pretty smile. Fucking Romy Schneider. "What, sex?" Obviously?

Roman's deep laugh against my ear nearly had me shuddering; "In the morning," he purred.

"That's gonna be-- hard," My last words were cut off by the hitch of my breath. This felt too good. "Parents and-- and all." It was true, though. How were we supposed to do this with our parents in the house? I doubted Roman's mom was out on business trips all the time, anyway.

With a small huff, I was pulled even tighter to his chest, almost as a reprimand-- I had no idea why it made my cheeks burn. "You'll learn to be quiet," Roman breathed, kissing up the shell of my ear. "Right?"

"I--"

"You'll be a good little girl for me and be quiet, hm?"

And just as I was about to protest, to remind him it was probably a little rude to have sex with other people in the house (I had no idea actually, was there no etiquette to it?), the hand Roman had around my waist slid between my legs, coaxing them further apart. All my thoughts of having a proper conversation went out the window the second he pressed two fingers to my clit, circling it as his kisses moved to the skin between my ear and my jaw.

It was impossible not to give in to the feeling; Roman was intoxicating. I whimpered with the next brush of his cock against my sweet spot, the different sensations dulling my brain with every thrust-- "Yeah,"

Roman let out a hum of approval; "Just for me?"

"Only-- Only you,"

I could practically feel him melt against me. "That's my girl,"

It was an oddity how much Roman enjoyed the sound of it. How much he enjoyed knowing he finally had a companion in the world. I could feel his cock twitch inside of me with the reminder, with the need to become one.

Because at the end of the day, that's what we were now.

We were one. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next day at school was the easiest day to handle in a while. It didn't matter that people were staring, that my reputation was still tarnished, because I finally felt the stream of love floating my way that I had been craving my whole life.

"You need to start zipping this up," Roman huffed, reaching for the zipper of my jacket. He pulled me closer to the railing he was sitting on by the school entrance, shaking his head. "It's getting cold. Don't be stupid." This was a new level of intimacy. The quiet moments, the small, shared moments of care. He was almost annoyed that I hadn't done it myself, that I hadn't thought to take care of myself, thoughtless little girl. 

I loved it when he got protective like this. Absolutely adored it. It only reminded me of how much I loved him, and consequently, how I couldn't tell him. 

I glanced at Peter, who sat next to Roman, and held back a snicker. I could bet about a hundred dollars that he had never seen his best friend so ridiculously protective before. "She's not twelve," he tried, nudging Roman's shoulder, earning a displeased grunt. 

Oh, of course Peter didn't get it. Roman Godfrey, sweetly zipping up my jacket-- the simplest of all things. Nonetheless, it brought a twinge of scarlet to my cheeks as I spotted a group of cheerleaders passing us on the way to the school entrance; the looks of seething jealousy in their eyes only brought me joy. A part of me wanted the sight of Roman being sweet to leave them with a feeling of pure agony. I wanted them all to suffer. Always. For their heads to be bashed in like Jasmine nearly did to herself into her locker; I wished it upon them. On them all. 

... I needed to snap out of this.

Roman had been right-- it was getting chilly in Hemlock Grove. I shivered when he finished buttoning my buttons, smiling down at him where he sat with Peter, glad none of them could read my thoughts. I wondered whether Roman would be horrified or... comforted by the fact that I was capable of wishing cruelty upon others, just like him.

It didn't matter. None of it did. Especially not now that he was looking up at me with those big, green eyes of his with his hands tucked into his jacket, looking handsome as ever. From this angle, Roman's shoulders were almost broader, and the more I thought about his physique, the more I thought about last night when he was completely undressed.

Completely undressed, on top of me, loving me. 

... Loving me. 

If only he did.

Fuck-- I couldn't think about that right now. The need to draw him in and have him all over again would overcome me soon, and I needed to push it down. It would be quite unfortunate if I started acting like a cat in heat every time I saw him from now on. "I need to get to class," I said, keeping my hands to myself despite how much I wanted to run them through Roman's hair. 

His eyes softened as he scanned me, jacket fully zipped up and all. "What do you have now?" he asked, now toying with the fabric of my pockets. 

"Math, sadly,"

Peter looked like he couldn't wait to escape the tension that ensued the two of us being in such close proximity. "Oh, right," Peter muttered, clicking his tongue against his palate as he sat back on the banister. "Math, second period... With Letha, right?"

The name was enough to make me freeze, and just for a second, it felt like the air got colder. I was sure I might've even flinched. The image of Letha in my dreams, white as though drained of blood, clouded my vision as my heart started to thump painfully. Why was I reacting like this? 

Also, Roman looked like he had been greatly offended by something. With furrowed brows, he sat back and sent Peter a look of what the fuck. "How do you even know that?" he muttered, reaching one arm forward to drag me closer by my waist, his eyes not leaving Peters’ to scan his every minuscule reaction.

I was relieved by Roman's touch-- my fingers dipped into the short hair at the nape of his neck, unsure what was happening. 

On the other hand, Peter seemed to have a hard time recovering from what I could only guess was a slip-up. "I don't know," he said, shrugging as his eyes shied away. "I just remember it, I guess."

Roman snapped; "Why?"

Okay-- I didn't want to be here for this conversation. I couldn't hear more about Letha, not after my cryptic dream. It didn't make matters any better that Peter was right, and that I would see her in my next class. I stopped playing with Roman's hair, placing a short kiss to the top of his head; "I'm heading off," I mumbled, nodding shortly to Peter before excusing myself. 

Having got a quick whiff of Roman's heavy, intoxicating perfume, I closed my eyes and clutched my books tightly to my chest as I walked to class. The sheer smell of him, the softness of his hair, the kindness of his gestures-- it all made my head wander back to last night. The way it felt to have him inside me, how he took care of me, and how good it all felt. Allowing the memories to float back into my mind, I didn't realize I was walking around with a bright smile on my face until I sat down in math class and got a few odd looks from the other students around my seat. I wasn't usually this cheery, I suppose. 

Life felt good. When I thought about Roman, everything felt great. I made myself comfortable behind my desk, feeling my tummy tingle with my reminiscing of last night; I wanted him more than ever. Now that I knew we could be together like that, I wasn't sure how I was supposed to be able to detach from him. And just as I thought I was about to explode into a burst of butterflies, I stuck my hand in my coat to reach for my phone, only to find what felt like crumbled-up paper. 

Confused, I unfolded it;

i miss the look on your face when you cum. miss you miss you miss you. let's find a quiet place somewhere and get very very noisy after school, what do you think about that? do tell. i want to know your every thought, actually. what makes you tick, and so forth. know that i'm probably thinking about you right now. always. 

- your favorite (hopefully)

Oh, Roman and his notes. When had he managed to put it in there? A few minutes ago, when he toying with my pockets? Sneaky. I was dead sure my cheeks had turned a peculiar shade of pink by the time I felt someone put down their bag in the empty seat next to me, and I was too drunk on the euphoria to glance at my partner for today's class. How I loved Roman-- I loved him to the point where the tips of my fingers burned when I thought about him. And knowing he was probably in class now as well, thinking about me too... no, it was almost too much to bear.

However, when something much harder to face suddenly sat down next to me, I would've loved to get sucked right back into my tingling cave of Roman-comfort. 

Letha. 

Letha was here. 

Letha was sitting next to me, gazing back at me with those trademark green Godfrey eyes. 

Fuck. I immediately crumbled up the note, stuffing it down my pocket to hide the content of it from her. Knowing Letha, she'd probably barf at the sight of the first sentence. "What are you doing?" I hissed, glancing around to scour the classroom for empty seats. "There's a free table two rows down--"

"I like sitting here," Letha's face remained free of strong emotion, and she turned away to unpack her supplies. "It's close to the window, and I need the natural sunlight. It helps the headache I get from the lamps in here, don't you remember?"

She said it so matter-of-factly, and for a second, it felt as though I had been teleported back to two months ago. I didn't know how to act around Letha anymore. "Sure," I mumbled. Just my luck. 

As class started, I would glance over at Letha every once in a while. She seemed so peaceful, undisturbed by my presence, and I wasn't sure why that annoyed me to this extent. Was it perhaps the fact that she sought out forgiveness from me when she refused to give me any in return? That she was seeking acceptance about the situation only when it suited her? 

It was odd to look at Letha and see her in colours. After my dream last night, I could only see her in her undead form, dead to me.  

To my dismay, Letha leaned over to my side of the table a little later that class; "Do you have a pencil?" she whispered.

A Godfrey asking to borrow my pencil? It usually led to no good. Still, I handed her one--

"Thank you,"

"No problem,"

This was so weird. It felt too normal, yet it was agony to act that it was. However, the situation only worsened when the teacher asked us to work in pairs and solve an equation on the board. I held my breath, daring to glance at Letha; she was already looking at me. "You have no clue how to solve this stuff, do you?"

I shrugged. She knew me too well. "You've probably already solved it in your head,"

Letha's smile was kind, genuine. "Want me to show you how to do it?"

"Nah," 

"Do you even do your homework anymore?"

I knew her question was coming from a good place. I could feel it. After all, I barely managed to do my homework when Letha and I had regular study sessions at her place. Just thinking about it made me remember the sweet smell of her sheets, which never mixed well with the incense she was always burning for 'good karma'. "Roman has a guy that does them for him, and I write my answers off of his," I mumbled.

I expected the mention of him to put her off-- yet Letha simply nodded, raising her brows in a conniving look. "He's corrupted you,"

"I've let him,"

"I know," Letha's green eyes shimmered with words untold as she echoed; "I know."

It was odd to face her like this. For her to know my feelings for Roman, and not walk off this time. This was the first conversation we'd had in months where we weren't at each other's throats. And suddenly, Letha took the leap I wasn't allowed to take-- she leaned in closer as she dared to whisper the forbidden words; "I miss you,"

Oh no. "Letha--"

"You never said goodbye, and now a part of me believes you're coming back,"

I let out a shaky breath as I moved my chair further away from hers. What she said had been too close to the words in my dream last night. It was chilling. "Of course I never said goodbye," I hissed back, feeling my emotions boil to a simmer. "You didn't let me." There it was, laid out in the open. "You cut me off, Letha." She had. "And you left me for dead!"

Letha held her breath high in her chest as her mouth formed a tight line. It wasn't until she moved her chair closer to mine and gripped the table harder that she allowed herself to breathe; "I left you for dead because you basically fucking stabbed me!" 

"I didn't mean to!"

"And you think I did?" Letha hissed. "You gave me no choice!"

"That's not true! I came clean to you, and the least you could've done was to!--"

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry!" 

We stared at one another in silence. There it was, my apology, served on a silver platter. I had heard it once before, but Roman wasn't here to control the outcome of it this time. Something within the bounds of my soul was relieved of anger and tension, and I couldn't halt the result of it; "I'm sorry too,"

Letha froze for a good second or two. Her lips parted in disbelief as her grip on the table lifted, and she sat back in her chair with a slow nod. It gradually dawned on her what this meant for us. 

"Do you think it could work again?"

I indulged with a soft sigh; "What could, Letha?"

"Us," she said, allowing tears to well in her eyes. "You and I. Our friendship."

It was easier to breathe, all of a sudden. I knew that an apology wasn't enough to mend our wounds, but it was a start. I nodded along with Letha and watched as the corners of her mouth tugged upwards into a smile-- I caught myself mirroring it.

"So..." she tried.

"So..."

"Did you hear that Brooke Bluebell bought a big needle from a pharmacy?" 

I grimaced; "What? No, why?"

"To get her revenge on Roman," Letha held back a laugh, biting down on her lip as she turned to write down the answer to the math equation. "From a few months ago, if you remember the whole ordeal."

"Oh," I breathed. "Needle-gate?"

"Needle-gate,"

Despite how concerning the big needle sounded, it was a funny reminder of the past; "I've gotta tell Roman," 

"Yeah, you better. I think he's blocked me, so I'm out of the picture," Letha sat back in her chair after finishing her work, and she glanced back at me as she tapped the pencil against the paper. "You've gotta tell him about prom too."

"... Prom?"

"Yes, prom," Grabbing her bag, Letha rummaged around for a few seconds until she found a flyer. It was purple, super lavish-- "It's in two weeks, I think. Kinda short notice, but I have a feeling he'd secretly want to go. He's into the classics, so I'd suggest you indulge him."

I felt my cheeks turn red as I kept my eyes on the flyer. Just the thought of me in a dress, Roman in a suit; it made me warm. Uncomfortably warm. "I think he'd rather die, actually," I mumbled, handing it back to Letha. "Are you going?"

"Meh, don't think so," She stuffed the flyer back into her bag and sighed, reaching for her phone. "The guy that I'm into says he doesn't want to go, so I'll stay home."

It hit me that this was the first time I didn't know who Letha had a crush on. Previously, she would tell me all about them. There was a Tyler, there was a Scott, and then there was a third one who had a really peculiar last name. And just as I was about to scour my brain for more names, a particular one popped up on Letha's phone as she turned it on;

Peter: I think it's time to...

That was all I was able to see, as she needed to click on it to read the whole message. My eyes widened as I sat back in my chair, sending Letha an odd look. It was clear by her body language that she hadn't intended for me to see that, and she immediately flipped her phone. 

... Was something going on?

Letha cleared her throat and turned back to me with the same smile, yet it felt disingenuous. "That's a different Peter," she said, a somewhat panicked squeak to her voice. "It's the neighbour. He might be complaining about the amount of cars my dad has parked on our street, cause they don't fit into our garage anymore. It needs to be discussed, apparently. It's time, or whatever."

That seemed like a typical rich-kid problem. I could somewhat buy it. "Is it a Godfrey thing to be crazy about cars?"

"Just you wait until you hear about the cigarettes. Dad's a real chain-smoker,"

"... Don't tell me they're cinnamon-flavoured?"

Letha sighed; "Sadly, yeah. The garage smells like a goddamn gingerbread house,"

The laughter that followed wasn't intentional, and it blended in with the ring of the bell. 

This was nice. To see the smile on Letha's face felt good, like a warm soup when you have a cold. It was a comfort to know that we could finally be normal around each other, despite the fact that we would possibly never be friends again like before, or even forgive one another. I doubted that I ever could, fully. 

However, just as I was about to excuse myself, I spotted a silhouette by the door which made my blood run cold. 

Fuck.

Roman. 

I saw it in his eyes immediately. The confusion, which quickly morphed into something darker, anger-like. My laughter died down in an instant as my body kicked into a fight-or-flight response, suddenly scared out of my mind to be caught laughing with Letha-- she seemed to catch on momentarily, but remained in her seat as she watched me shove all my supplies and books into my backpack, hurrying to get to Roman.

I had forgotten that he wanted to pick me up after class. I had forgotten my promise to not fraternise with the enemy-- fucking stupid. 

Hoping to conceal the slight tremble in my hands, I put one of them on Roman's arm when I caught up to him in the doorway, smiling up at him with an anxious breath stuck in my chest. "Hey, you," I tried, giving the sleeve of his shirt a gentle tug as I always did, a plea for him to bend down and kiss me. It was impossible to reach all the way up to his lips without it, anyway.

But Roman's attention hadn't left Letha. His eyes had narrowed, glaring at her with fury apparent in the way his jaw clenched. Had telepathy been a real thing, I'd have thought they were yelling at each other through their minds. I almost wanted to butt in and say Letha wasn't bothering me, that we were having a normal conversation-- however, I knew that would only make it worse. 

"Come," Roman said with a low growl, unlike anything I had heard from him before. With one last scorned look at Letha, he gripped my wrist and started marching down the hallway; I didn't expect to be yanked from my place the way I was, and I was sure my legs were fully in the air for a microsecond or two; "Roman!--"

"This day just keeps getting worse," he muttered, not waiting for me to find my balance as he continued to drag me down the hallway. 

Roman's grip around my wrist was hard. "Slow down!" I tried, grabbing his arm with my free hand. "It's not what it looks like! It's not-- " Everything about this made me dizzy, and his sudden anger made the familiar feeling of dread pool in my stomach. It only got worse when he pulled me into an empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind us.

I took a few steps away from him, waiting for the bomb to explode. My breath came out in short, ragged motions as my hands remained clenched by my sides in anticipation. It felt like I was five years old again, waiting to get reprimanded for having drawn on the walls. "Roman, I--"

"Shut up," Of all the things I expected, it wasn't this. Not at all. Because suddenly, my body was pressed against the door of the classroom with Roman's arms around me, and his lips pressing needy kisses to my neck. My bag dropped to the floor-- What the...?

"Not here," was all I managed to say before my breath hitched, and my hands automatically flew up into his hair. "Roman, please, wait--"

"No," He was more dismissive than ever-- I wondered why I sort of liked it. Why it made my stomach tingle, why I wanted him to do whatever he wanted to me. Was it possibly after what had happened last night? "No more bullshit." 

I closed my eyes, hoping we'd have a few seconds to disperse if someone walked in on us right now. With the force of Roman's weight against mine keeping the door firmly shut, I was sure of it. My head lulled against the door as I felt him latch on a particular spot on the side of my neck, marking my skin with his possession. I knew I was screwed-- you can't get more screwed than this. 

I was sure I disassociated for a few seconds, because suddenly, Roman's lips brushed against my ear, and I had to suppress a shiver. "We're gonna have a damn serious talk," he said, keeping me still against the door. "We need it. I need it."

Something told me we wouldn't be talking much if he continued kissing me like this. "Let's-- Let's talk, then,"

When Roman pulled away, I could finally see the frustration on his face. The way his brows were drawn together, how high his breath was in his chest, and the narrow glare of his gaze. Still, I didn't think it would result in this; it took me a while to realize his hands were no longer at my sides, and that they were now unzipping my jeans. 

"What are you doing?" I breathed, grabbing at his wrists. "Don't--"

"You think you can outsmart me?" It was as though someone had ripped the curtains off its hinges, now revealing what was always hidden behind them. Roman's breath fell heavy against my cheek as a small twitch of his upper lip revealed his inner turmoil; "You think you can tell me one thing, and then do the opposite when I'm not looking?"

My anxiety grew as I realized Roman's strength was unmatched. There was nothing I could do to fight him. "What are you talking about?" It was hard to come up with a cohesive sentence when I was this stressed. 

"Peter told me, y'know," Roman continued, a low growl in his voice prevalent in ways it had never been before. "He told me the obvious, of course. That Letha is trying to reconcile, that she misses you... But then he told me the part I didn't know. The part you probably didn't want me to know."

It was with his last ominous words that he managed to dip his fingers past my waistband, past the hem of my underwear, and placed two fingers on my clit. The unexpected touch immediately made me squirm against the door, squeezing my eyes shut. "Why-- Why are you doing this?" was all I managed to stutter out, my hands still locked around his wrist. He knew I didn't want this. He knew. "I don't-- don't know what you're--"

"Talking about?" Roman rubbed rough circles around my clit as he placed his forehead against mine, pressing my head further up against the door. "Oh, so you're not gonna tell me?" His voice got more patronizing, as though this was fifth grade and he was teasing me in the courtyard-- "Is my good little girl gonna be real stupid and not tell me? You wanna act dumb with me, huh?"

Something about his tone made my cheeks burn. His tone, his words. This was not a good way to find out about a possible kink. My mind dulled with the stimulation against my clit, and it didn't take long before I eventually felt my arousal pooling. In all ways of the word, I felt like my body was betraying me. "Not here," I echoed, breath hitching. It felt like he was pressing a button on me, like I was a toy, thoughtlessly repeating it over and over; "Not here, Rome-- N-Not, here, please--"

"I'll stop when you tell me,"

"Tell you what?" I cried, squeezing his wrists as my hips bucked into his hand. Roman knew how to touch me, even if it was at my disadvantage. My mind was racing; someone could walk in, someone could see, someone could--

"How Letha helped you get us back together," Roman's breath was so warm, so angry, against my face, it felt like he was drawing my scorching red blush on my cheeks. "How you went and asked her for advice on how to decrypt me? Maybe you don't know me at all, is that it?"

I didn't want to think about this. I didn't want to be present. I didn't want to think about the fact that Roman had gotten the information all twisted, that Peter must've had quite an extensive talk with Letha to even know parts of this story, and that Roman couldn't find another way to talk it out than to do it like this. Forcefully. Because right now, it felt too good. It felt way too good. The sensation of his fingers rubbing circles into my clit, running them between my folds to gather up my slick, only to return to my bundle of nerves to make my legs shake with a mix of anxiety and pleasure, felt too good.

"That's not true," I tried in between heaves of air. What would it make me if I came like this? "That's not-- not true, Rome--"

"I won't ever be enough for you, will I?" 

"No-- no, you're everything!--"

"Because the end of the day, you'll go back to Letha," Roman's voice was tight, restricted, as though he was holding back a heap of emotions. "No matter what I do, how gently I fuck you, treat you, you won't want to be with me forever. No one does."

If only he knew. If only he knew that I loved him. My hands let go of his wrist, and I placed my palms against his chest, forcing some space between us with a push. That seemed to do the trick-- Roman's fingers slowed down as our eyes met, and he was faced with my watery gaze. "I didn't lie last night," I said after finally catching my breath. "I've never lied to you." An unnervingly big part of me longed for him to rub me through my high, which was not too far away from the horizon, but the sane part of me knew I had to put an end to his venture into the dark ways of his past. 

Roman's mouth pulled into a straight line; "Peter wouldn't lie to me either,"

"I'm not saying he is. He just got the story wrong,"

There was a long silence, and I knew this was my moment-- I reached for Roman's wrist again, and with careful, slow motions, I got his hand out of my underwear. "Letha heard us fight, and she came over to ask about it afterwards," I started. "There was no plotting. No decrypting. The only thing she told me, was to look for a bigger picture when it comes to fighting with you. I didn't ask for it! And what you saw just now, was us being friendly. Not friends. We will never be again, after everything that happened!" 

"But... you were talking on the stairs," Roman echoed, as something in his gaze faltered. "I saw you when we were leaving the party."

Letha's following words were almost icy to the touch, hollow to the ear; "Was I right?" 

It felt as though my world stilled. Time stilled. Just for a second, I felt as though I could wade my free hand through the coldness of her phrase, and I could wave away the mirage. She was concerned, curious. Had she genuinely wanted to help me get through this fight with Roman? 

"Yeah," I breathed. "You were. Thank you." 

Letha's face softened as a relieved sigh escaped her, nodding her head slowly. It had been a long time since the last time she had heard those words from me. "Any time," 

The memory was as fresh as day. "You were right next to me, Roman. If I was hiding something, I wouldn't have talked to her in front of you," I let go of his hand, letting out a shaky breath as he took another step away from me. I could sense that his mind was cracking itself in half. "I don't need Letha to tell me how to fix things with you. Contrary to what you were thinking, I do know you. And I know you well enough to see that this isn't you being angry with me, but rather your fucking abandonment issues surfacing because you haven't dealt with them yet!"

It was clear that Roman didn't expect me to raise my voice, but hell-- I was so done with this behavioural pattern of his. 

"It might be good for me to not have the worst relationship with all the girls at this school, have you thought about that?" I said, feeling my fists clench at my sides. "That Letha and I being friendly and not at each other's throats might be good for me? And that it might also be good for your relationship with your cousin, mind you, who you've seemingly blocked?" 

Roman remained silent, at a loss for words. 

My breathing had yet to calm down, along with my arousal. "You will always be enough for me," I said, softening my tone. "You're all I've ever wanted. I'm not leaving you. But it doesn't matter how many times I tell you this unless you trust me." I zipped up my pants, huffing as I picked up my bag. It felt as though my knees were about to give out-- I could feel my slick dripping into my underwear. This was a feeling I never wanted to revisit again. Ready to storm off, to slam the door behind me with a bang and leave Roman here to wallow in whatever he was feeling at the moment, something else hit me like a blow to the head; "Wait, how did Peter know?"

It couldn't be. It seriously couldn't be.

Roman cleared his throat, no longer meeting my gaze. I could see it in the light pink of his cheeks that he was embarrassed about his outburst. "He said they talked at the party," he mumbled under his breath. "Briefly. Just for a second."

"Ah, is that right?"

Roman caught my tone, glancing up at me through his brows. "Why?"

"Don't you think it's odd?"

"... Maybe, I don't know? I was busy getting laid that night, don't ask me,"

I would've laughed had I not been so pissed off. I could see the lack of reaction on my face getting to Roman, and he gave in to a slight shiver. Finally, the roles were reversed, just for a second. "Rome?"

He looked relieved to hear me use his nickname-- "Yes?"

"You will never do anything like that to me ever again,"

Roman tucked his hands into his pockets, head hanging low. "I... really don't know what came over me--"

"Never," I snapped, biting my teeth together. I was afraid I'd start yelling. "You will never."

I wondered whether anyone had talked to him like this. If this was the first time in history that Roman had gotten a boundary imposed on him. Maybe by his mother when she was scolding him as a child, but after that? I somehow doubted it. He remained silent, eyes fixating on his polished shoes.

Finally getting the opportunity to look at him this close, I spotted the vial of my blood still hanging around his neck, poking out from beneath his shirt. In the back of my mind, after having read that stupid book on upirs, a huge part of me thought he was getting affected by it. That the constant smell of blood right underneath his nose was activating dormant senses, dormant thoughts. 

But upirs weren't real. 

Not.

Real.

Roman's silence made me feel unimaginably guilty, as though I had been the one to force myself upon him-- he looked like a kicked puppy. I hated it. So, I gathered my next breath; "Could you at least say you're sorry? Then I'll feel better about inviting you home for dinner later,"

Roman's eyes lit up as they met mine, surprised I'd even offer. "You... still want that?"

"I can barely breathe when we're apart, what do you think?"

He let out the breath he had been holding, falling apart; "I'm really sorry,"

I didn't want to dwell on it. Didn't want to think about the fact that the scared look on my face would probably get him going for months on end. That he'd think about it at night, when he woke up, and especially when he got off at the thought of me. The scared look in my eyes. 

No. I didn't want to think about it. 

Roman was the first to approach, slowly daring to tilt my head up with two fingers underneath my chin and kissing me with the utmost gentle touch. No tongue, no urgency-- just a small, soft brush of our lips against one another, creating sparks that went all the way down into the tips of my fingers. 

Letha had been right when she first warned me about him, all those months ago. Roman was the epitome of an asshole. A core so rotten, it was impossible to carve out all the bad. You could try, you could dig, you could pray, but all of it would never go away. It would forever fester in his bones, infect the very basis of his DNA, and course through his veins.

But... when he kissed me like this, I could forget it.

I could forget.

When he kissed me like this, I only loved him more.

I knew I would love him forever. 

And as the kiss deepened with the sweetest pressure, I reached for the vial of my blood around Roman's neck-- he didn't notice the way I twisted the capsule, figuring out which way to turn it so it would screw itself off. I had a feeling I would need to know this information in times of crisis. 

Just in case.

Just in case. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The rest of the evening went on as normal. Weirdly enough.

Roman had fully snapped out of his rage, and he had turned into a version of himself I hadn't seen before. He wasn't joking around. He wasn't making dirty jokes. 

He was... calm.

Assured. 

I knew this was probably a form of keeping on the low, to not take a wrong step and blow up in the minefield he had made himself. Roman laid still in my bed with his hands behind his head, watching as I scoured my closet. If there was going to be a prom, I had to look for a dress, right? 

"What are you looking for?" he asked, yawning. "Need some help?"

I shrugged, hoping to brush his question off. It was a bit embarrassing to be talking about this, seeing as he hadn't asked me to be his date or anything. "Just looking for a dress... Wondering if I still have the one I'm thinking about,"

"What do you need a dress for?" Roman sat up in the bed, watching me like a puppy would.

"I... like dresses. Need to wear them more often,"

"But it's getting colder, don't you think it's better to wear something warmer for the season?"

What was up with this obsession of his lately? He had to keep me warm at all times, supposedly. "You sound so polite," I mumbled, wading through my clothes. "Stop looking so guilty, please."

Roman let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair. "I feel bad,"

This was intolerable. It gnawed on my heart. "I told you we're fine, so please don't," I turned to him with one hand on my hip, hoping to stare some sense into him; "I even wore this crazy top to make your mood better, look!"

Roman's eyes darted down to the hot pink crop top I was wearing, and he bit down on his growing smile to stay neutral. Nonetheless, I could see it on his face that he remembered exactly where I had gotten it, and possibly the feeling he had back in that closet when he came into the soft fabric of it. "I'd rather you wore my sweater, like usual,"

"It's in the washer. And this top is fucking iconic," I pointed to the words which were stretched out across my chest. "See? 'Rock on', in big, black letters. You need to rock on more, Roman."

His smile immediately cracked, and he propped himself up on his elbows as he leaned down on the bed. "I've done enough rocking for today, that's for sure,"

I finally saw a way I could turn his mood upside down. With a smug smile, I walked over to the pink speaker I got for my seventeenth birthday and connected it to my phone. "Rome, baby, who's big in rock these days?" 

Roman chuckled, rolling over on his side to follow me with his eyes. "Depends what type of rock you're looking for,"

"Anything,"

"I don't know, then. Anything from Nirvana to Blur, I suppose," 

Bingo. I guessed that Roman was going for bands he thought I had heard of, and he had hit jackpot. With a click of a button, the intro to Song 2 by Blur started playing through the speakers, which earned me another laugh from my boyfriend. It was a typical rock song-- it started out rather quiet until it broke out into complete chaos. 

I crawled back into bed, kissing my way up Roman's stomach, which only made his breath hitch. The giggles brewing in his chest resonated through my body that was pressed up against his, and I joined the laughter as I kissed his rosy cheeks. It was intimate, it was sweet. I loved that I could do this with him now, that he was comfortable enough to be put in a position like this, and that he allowed me to pull stunts like these.

And after all, I decided I would show my love through action, as I couldn't tell him about the extent of my feelings. I knew he'd get up and bolt right out the window like something straight out of a cartoon.

Roman caught his breath, placing his hands on both sides of my face-- all the emotions he couldn't tell me either were on display in his big, green eyes, roaming around the galaxies in his dark pupils. "I trust you,"

"... What?--"

"I keep thinking about what you said earlier," he tried, stroking his thumbs across the soft skin of my cheeks. "I promise I trust you. And I'm sorry that I get in my head about it, because you don't deserve that. You deserve so much better than what I can give you, yet... I want you to stay with me. I really, really want you to stay with me."

This was a rather deep conversation to be having with loud rock music in the background. I should've definitely picked something more mellow. With a sigh, I leaned down to kiss the tip of Roman's nose-- "I told you I'm not going anywhere," I breathed. "I'm yours forever, if you'll have me."

Finally, Roman's eyes lit up. Lit up like fireworks painting the sky. "Forever sounds nice,"

"It does, doesn't it?" It was impossible not to smile.

"It so does," 

It was a relief when he pulled me tightly to his chest and kissed me. It was the type of kiss I had dreamed of having in my bed on a lazy afternoon, the type of kiss which made my heart swell as it beat against his. The type of kiss which I had only ever seen in movies, the type of kiss I could never imagine would feel this good.

No one ever told me that making out with your boyfriend was such a thrill. To be tangled up as one, to be a heap of bodies coming together, to be a mess, and that it would make my whole being vibrate with joy. Roman's lips were so gentle to the touch, yet his kisses were so hot, all-taking, that I wanted nothing more than to melt into him and become one. 

It didn't take long before he rolled us over-- I knew he wouldn't be the type to like anyone on top except for him. My hands were in his hair, tugging at the tips of his dark locks to make my fingers busy, as Roman's tongue licked a stripe up my lips; it was so soft, a feathery touch, and it drew out a shaky moan. 

I didn't know any of this was possible before I met him. I really had no idea, silly me. 

My mind didn't register the meek whine that escaped me, possibly to protect my psyche, as Roman pulled away. A thin string of saliva connected our lips as we simply breathed down at each other, gazing into the other's eyes-- I was sure mine widened a little when I felt something hard pressing against my lower abdomen. 

Fuck, that was still damn hot. 

It certainly gave the words rock on a new meaning, no?

"I need to ask you something," Roman breathed, followed by a sigh of relief when he heard the song was over. "But don't freak out on me, okay?"

I nodded, eager to have his lips back on mine again; "Sure,"

"And before you judge me, I'm not the biggest fan of this idea myself, cause I think it's kinda lame. Keep that in mind,"

"Okay?"

"So... Heh," Roman let out a soft, nervous laugh, nudging my nose with his. "You might actually want to find a dress for this to work, though."

My fingers traced circles into his hair; "Rome,"

"Yeah?"

"Stop rambling, please,"

"Oh,"

"You were saying?"

"Oh," Roman cleared his throat, placing a short kiss to my lips. "Do you want to go to prom?"

Had I not been trapped beneath him, I would've shot right out of the bed. My eyes widened as I pulled him in for another kiss, hoping to suppress the squeal that threatened to escape me. 

"Wait, wait--" Roman's words were muffled against my lips before he raised himself up, still not done. What else was there to say, though? "So, you're going?"

"... What?"

"With friends, or...?"

"Roman, what friends?"

"Ah, right," Once again, he cleared his throat and got all serious again; "So... would you want to go with me?"

It took a second for it to dawn on me that Roman had been genuinely confused. That he thought I would be going with anyone else but him. That he thought, even for just a second, that there was a possibility that I would tell him no. "Are you crazy? Of course!"

Oh, how I loved him.

I loved him to bits.

And here I was, squealing about going to prom. Roman had made me a puddle of girly with his heartthrob-ways. It would've made me sick, had we not immediately gone back to making out, but this time, with bright smiles on our faces. Kissing someone while smiling was definitely in my top three of all things possible on earth. 

Second place was being picked up like I weighed nothing, oddly enough. That was one of the perks of having a tall boyfriend, after all.

And the first place was a no-brainer. It was definitely sex. 

Oh, and who would've guessed-- we'd end up having sex a few minutes later, believe it or not. When your boyfriend is this hot, it's impossible to resist. It was the type of sex that made up for his behavior at school today, the type of sex that made me melt into the mattress with joy and pleasure. 

The cursed hot pink crop top was quickly discarded, and so was my sanity. Roman's kisses grew firm against me, muffling the sounds of my moans as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of my thighs, pinning them down and folding me into submission. It was official-- there seemed to be no etiquette to sex, and my parents being in the house was an obstacle that was easy to deal with. 

Just... shut up. Keep your mouth shut. Right?

But it was so damn hard. Especially as Roman angled his cock right up against my sweet spot with the help of the pillow beneath me, making me whine in pleasure against the kiss he had locked me in to ensure my silence. It was impossible. It made my toes curl, made my vision blurry, and made my mind go into complete lockdown. I entered a phase where I almost didn't care, where I couldn't care less at all, and where the only important thing was for Roman to do whatever he wanted to me. 

"Fuck-- me," I rambled, my hands skimming the muscular range of his broad back as I felt my need grow insatiable. 

Roman let out a huff against me, the smile on his face a visible contradiction; "What am I doing, then, gorgeous?" He was so secure, so confident, that it was impossible not to let him do whatever his heart desired to me. I trusted him with my whole being, even as his grip around my thighs started to make them ache. My lower lip quivered; "Lo--"

No, no!

"Love this," My rambling needed to end, stat. 

Roman smirked into the kiss that followed; "Me too," He seemed to be catching onto my overstimulated state, and the second I let out a sigh of relief when he let go of my thighs and the pounding against my sweet spot relented, he came right back with a move I didn't expect. Roman wrapped his arms around me, pulling me up into his lap with his cock still throbbing inside me. 

I suppressed a surprised yelp. "Rome!--"

"Shh," He guided my legs around him as he watched me adjust to the new feeling-- he was deeper than ever, now, and it freaked me out a bit. "Stay quiet for me, okay?"

I was on the brink of tears. It felt like my thoughts had short-circuited and left me for dead. My breath tensed in my chest as I draped my arms around Roman's neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair to ground myself, just as I knew he liked it. "Let's try something new," he purred, hands traveling up my thighs to grab my hips, lifting me up along his shaft as I gasped into his open mouth. 

Even when I was on top, Roman needed to have control. Perfect. That worked out well for me, actually.

The way he was looking at me made me feel like I was on fire. The green of his eyes etched into mine, watching me with unmatched amusement-- his lips were upturned into the usual smug smirk which made my heart dance in my chest, and in vulnerable moments such as these, it also resulted in my cheeks flaring up with an embarrassing shade of pink. 

It didn't take long before we found a rhythm, and before I got used to practically riding him. It was different like this, especially when Roman's hands were simply a weight on my hips, and I could fuck myself on his cock. It felt like a permission of sorts, like he was telling me he was all mine, that I could do whatever I wanted to him-- like an exchange of submission. Although, of course, Roman would never fully submit to anything in the world. 

It was easy to keep quiet when the soft pillows of his lips muffled the sounds of my inevitable moans, but when they left me, it became a fight against my conscience. A small gasp would escape me here and there, along with a loud hitch of my breath, and it eventually balled on into a breathy string of ah ah ah's-- staying quiet was an impossible task. I prayed to all the Gods above that my parents wouldn't hear the mess their dearest Roman was making out of their daughter.

They had no idea he could be like this. None. He was such a sweetheart at dinner, he'd always make sure to help my mom set the table, and he'd talk sports with my dad-- they had no idea. I could see it in Roman's eyes that he found the sight of me beyond amusing. That he got off me unraveling more than anything. He only made it harder for me to stay quiet as he pressed the heel of his palm to my clit, keeping me steady with a hand on my back as his kisses trailed down my body. 

"A-Ah, Rome--" I was done for. I was done for. 

"Shh, just a little more," Roman's lips had stayed at my clavicle for long enough to leave a mark. It dawned on me that he was leaving a trail of hickeys, and my fist in his hair tightened as my legs quivered. This was too many sensations at once. "A little more... You can take it, right?"

I couldn't utter a cohesive sentence. The pressure on my clit, his wet, eager kisses, and the way I could set the perfect pace as I slid up and down his cock made my brain buzz with static noise. I was sure my eyes had morphed into the shape of hearts as I let out a shaky, quiet moan, filling myself up with Roman's cock over and over. The best feeling in the world. 

"That's my girl..." he cooed, grabbing my waist with his free hand. "Fuck yourself on my cock, it's all yours..." His pink lips parted with pleasure as he watched me sink down on his length, enchanted by the sight. It was a delight to watch the way his perfect up-do came undone, and the way his hair fell over his forehead in messy strokes. He looked unreal, godly. 

Roman's words were enough to make my hips buck into his abdomen, but my state only got worse, deteriorated, as his mouth trailed down to my breast. The moan I had to suppress when I felt his tongue against my stiffening bud was unmatched-- I was sure I started panting as he took it into his mouth, suckling it swollen as I whimpered. 

I wanted to let it spill past my lips; I love you, I love you, I love you. In that sense, sex was dangerous territory for me. However, how was I supposed to resist when it felt this good?

My lips ghosted over the parts of him I could reach, his ear, his cheek, and I let my breath hitch against his skin as a familiar feeling pooled in my tummy. Aware, Roman only drove the heel of his palm harder into my clit, making it so that I was grinding up against him with every lift of my hips against his length. I gave into a tremble, unsure how to stabilize myself in this position-- "Rome," I cried, pleading for him to kiss me. I wasn't sure I'd be able to suppress the sounds that were threatening to spill past my quivering lips when my high washed over me.

Roman's free hand remained at my breast, pinching my bud between his pointer and his thumb in a firm hold which had me wincing in pleasure. He kissed up my body, my shoulders, my neck, my jaw, my cheek-- yet he hovered inches away from my lips, the smirk still prevalent. "You lost," he whispered.

Lost what?

It was as though he read my mind; "You can't stay quiet, can you?"

I really wished I could. I was trying with all my might. But I was so, so damn close, and I shook my head, hoping he'd take pity on me. 

"It's okay," he cooed, his breath falling hot against my cheek as he tilted his head as though to kiss me. "You were never meant to win."

And so I crumbled. Completely. Utterly. Euphoria tore through me as I fell apart in Roman's arms, and it didn't take long before he simply wrapped his arms around me, laid me back down, and fucked me through my high as I suppressed my sobs of pleasure into his shoulder. 

Honestly? I didn't remember what happened next. Completely zen, relaxed, and thoroughly fucked, I considered myself logged off for the next ten minutes or so. However, I had to run over to my mental keyboard as Roman's hand, which was previously toying with my hair, pointed to my nightstand-- "What's that?"

With a small grunt, I raised my head from his bare shoulder. Fuck. My eyes sprung wide open as I spotted The Avoidable Vampirism on display, uncovered and everything. "Uh..." How could I have left that abomination out in the open? I gulped, turning to Roman with a doe-eyed expression that I knew worked well on him. I was sure my next words would put him off his incoming queries in an instant; "It's the sequel to Twilight. Vampire erotica, the usual. Edward is gay in this book, Bella is dead, and there are tons of scenes where, uh... men kiss men. And suck each other off. Super interesting."

Unsurprisingly, Roman was immediately disinterested. "Girls," he mumbled, rolling his eyes before he pressed a short kiss to my lips. "Stop thinking about gay sex, go to sleep."

"I'm not thinking about!--"

"Sleep!"

a/n: thank you for reading this monster of a chapter!!!! as you see, Roman's going absolutely nuts... I wonder whyyy (oh we know why, don't we? don't dangle a carrot in front of a donkey or whatever they say). there are a few chapters left of this book which will be packed w shit I hope will melt your brains, but before that, I wish you all a lovely christmas and a happy new year!!! MWAH, THANK YOU!!)

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[honeyryewhiskey]

but, i'm a cupid!

or, you’re a cupid, you can’t help the natural call to make two beings fall in love. even if it means bringing critters into the bunker when no ones looking.  cw!! fluff, spn lore on cupids is bland so yes i’m adding to it, grumpy x sunshine trope 1.3k words

the bunker had been under a quiet hum for quite some time now, sam in the library organizing and filing while dean sat in the war room looking for cases. the older winchester had nearly forgotten about the little angel cas left in their care a few weeks ago. a cupid, to be precise. 

at first he absolutely refused, claimed they weren’t a daycare for heaven’s flight crew. but cas, being a busy man, simply left the brothers standing in the bunker with a smiley little cherub. unlike most angels dean has met, you were sickeningly sweet, incredibly helpless at times, and though he would never admit it— adorable, too. 

you tried to be helpful, like quietly stepping in to do the chores sam and dean argued over. but it’s not like you really knew what you were doing. like the time dean tiredly shuffled into the kitchen one morning, opening the cupboard to find bacon, milk, and eggs stashed in there. when he started on an angry roll of name calling, it was your tear filled eyes and pouty lips that made him shut up quick. that afternoon was spent teaching you what food goes in the fridge. 

or the time you tried to fix up the impala, completely unaware that spray paint doesn’t cover up scratches. when dean strolled into the garage, expecting to take a sweet sunday joy ride just to find his baby had been vandalised, his shouts damn near shook the entire bunker. when he found you with paint stained fingertips and that pathetic wobbly lip, his anger dissipated. you settled on a promise to never under any circumstances ever touch baby again. 

now, as he sits before the glow of sam’s laptop, the quiet begins to feel entirely unsettling. he leaves his spot, heading for the library. when he doesn’t see you taking on your usual little helper tasks with sam his brows furrow. 

“have you seen the little bird?” 

sam looks up from his pile of books and paper, “no,” he shrugs, “i thought she was with you.”

that damn cupid is up to something, he thinks to himself. 

with a sigh dean turns, setting off to sweep the bunker. the kitchen is quiet, empty. at least the food is safe he assures himself. heading down stairs into the hall of bedrooms he finds your room empty as well. as he heads towards the dungeon, the last place he’d expect you as you once described it as dark and spooky, a muffled giggle stops him in his tracks. 

he waits, listening, as he hears it again coming from sam’s bedroom. he quietly approaches the door, gently pushing it open to find you kneeling on the ground with your back to the door. 

“what the hell are you doing, lovebird?” he crosses the room, standing over you and what he can now see to be a pair of brown fluffy rabbits. 

startled, you look up at him with wide eyes, “nothing.” you smile. his heart does that stupid little flutter that seems to only happen when you smile at him like that. all sweet with a pinch of mischief. 

“right,” his brows knit together as he points at the rabbits, “this is nothing?” 

a little humph leaves your lips as you rise to your feet, crossing your arms and looking up at dean with a determined scowl across your face, “i’m matchmaking, if you must know. these two have been hopping around outside for days and i could practically smell how much they need each other.” 

he looks between you and the critters a few times, “yeah, no, we’re not doing this. no rabbits— no animals of any kind allowed in the bunker.”

 his heart pangs as you jut out your bottom lip, eyes growing glossy. damn this pathetically cute little thing. his hands instinctively cup your face, “hey, hey, lovebird. no crying, remember?” his voice gruff, barely masking his annoyance.

you sniffle, biting your cheek to stop the tears brimming your lashes. you can’t always help the crying, cupids are naturally empathetic creatures with no qualms about showing their emotions. dean thumbs your cheeks, giving a light squeeze to one side. 

“but i’m a cupid!” you cry out, “i can’t help wanting to help them fall in love.” 

“rabbits don’t fall in love!” he drops his hands from your face, trying to find his words despite the absurdity of yours. “they mate, like the saying, ‘mate like rabbits’ there's no love happening here.” 

you stare up at him, wiping stray tears as some terrible thought makes your face turn sour. “so, like you?” your voice reflects the absolute devastation you feel at the realization. 

“oh what now?” dean groans.

“they’re like you! mating with no love.” you whimper. it’s no secret dean moves about women with everything except love. it was one of the first things you noticed about him, a spider's web of potential love stories that never takes because he’s swatting them away before anything divine can happen. you could have easily fixed this, but something about dean getting sweet with another woman makes your heart feel heavy. besides, dean asked you specifically not to matchmake with humans while you were on earth. so, the itch to use your skills was killing you and a perfectly innocent set of rabbits happened to be right outside the bunker. 

dean shoots you an incredulous look before shaking his head, “alright, i’m gunna pretend you didn’t just say that, little bird. we’re getting these things out. now.” he brushes past you, reaching for the rabbits far too slowly and aggressively, making them scurry off in opposite directions. 

“great!” you shout, “you scared them! now they’ll never even mate!” you drop to your knees, cooing gently at the fluff hiding underneath the bed. 

dean paces behind you, eyes squeezed shut as he musters up all the patience in the world, “hold on,” he stops abruptly, tilting his head to you, “why are you in sam’s room?” 

a shy smile finds your lips at you meet his quizzical gaze, “sam doesn’t say no nearly as often as you do. i thought if he saw how cute the bunnies are, he’d be on my side and i’d get to keep them and their love babies.” 

as much as dean would love to think your words fill him with nothing but anger and annoyance, your innocently sharp manipulation is rather fascinating. you were right, sam doesn’t like to say no and he was more fond of having pets than his older brother is, but dean would have put an end to this little scheme one way or another. 

as you lie half under the bed now, reaching for one of the rabbits, dean notices the little black droppings peppering the room. sam’s room.

“actually, lovebird,” he smirks, “why don’t we leave those two alone for a bit, see if your matchmaking skills really can work on the wildlife.” 

your excitement at his words makes you scramble off of the ground, peering up at him with a hopeful smile, “really? you think it’ll work?” 

“mhm,” he grins, stealing your hand in his, “let’s give ‘em some space, i’ll watch that reality show you love and let you tell me which ones are fated souls and all that cupid stuff you talk about.” 

➹

you sat with your legs crossed on the couch, dean beside you with a beer in hand and an amused grin as you raddled off all the little quirks that are tell-tale signs of a cupid’s work. on the other side of the bunker there's a clunk of commotion that startles you, but dean hardly reacts, his grin morphing into a satisfied smirk. 

“what was that?” you grab dean’s arm, shuffling closer to him.

“give it a sec.” he responds cooly. within seconds sam is stomping into the room, bewildered and clearly annoyed. 

“why,” he huffs, “are there rabbits shitting all over my room?” 

“oh no.” you whimper, sinking deeper into the couch, hiding your head under dean’s arm. 

“the little angel brought you a gift, sammy,” the older winchester let’s out an uncontrollable laugh, watching his frazzled brother with pure amusement, “don’t you just love it?” 

y'all i am not used to writing without angst or an emotional overtone so pls lmk if this sucks lol

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

the newlywed series- first time introducing each other as husband and wife

newlywed!Mark x f!wife!reader

summary: A honeymoon presents new opportunities to introduce yourselves to strangers, as husband and wife. Luckily, these opportunities are abundant but that doesn’t mean the novelty will wear off anytime soon

word count: ~1.3k

the newlywed series

-

Waking up in a Mediterranean paradise was nice, sure. Mark couldn’t argue with the fact that it felt good to wake up to the sound of waves crashing on the shore tens of feet away from the balcony and feeling the sun warming his skin through the white linen curtains. Of course, it felt nice, but it was nothing compared to waking up to you. Waking up to you, his wife, was a dream. Waking up to you tangled in the crisp, white sheets, hair spread across the pillows, he was even enamored by your drooling. 

He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed in such a short amount of time. Every morning since the wedding he woke up to a Mediterranean paradise with his wife by his side, still having memories from the wedding run around his mind. The flowers, the centerpieces, the music, the guests, his suit, your dress, the vows, it was all a dream. A dream that he was still stuck in since you were both trapped in a perfect love bubble heaven. 

He had been stunned to near silence when the concierge at the resort smiled at the two of you and welcomed you both as the resort’s “newest husband and wife.” The warm smile on her face was similar to that of the gate attendant at the airport who helped “the new Mr. and Mrs. Lee” find your seats. Even as you both left the venue, he found himself remembering the bright excited smile on your face as you and your friend screamed, “you’re a wife!” “I’m a wife!” He truly didn’t think that hearing him referred to as your husband or you referred to as his wife would ever stop making him feel shy or stop making him blush.

You roused from your sleep, nuzzling the pillow under your head while blinking at the bright sun that streamed through the curtains. You stretched your arms up to release the tension of the night before and turned to Mark with a sleepy smile, “Good morning, husband.”

He leaned in, his cheeks rosy from hearing you refer to him as “husband,” and placed a kiss on your forehead, “Good morning wife. Do you think it’s time to leave the room and explore the resort a little?”

“Are you finally ready to let me leave the room? God, are you going to be able to control yourself if I dare put my clothes on?” You tease with a tired smirk.

He scoffs while he narrows his eyes at you, “God forbid I spend some alone time with my brand new wife, in bed, making love like married couples do. How dare I? Seriously, send me to jail.”

You laugh, pulling the blankets over his face, “Shut up, Mark. Let’s go get ready to eat. I heard your stomach growl during your weird little rant.”

You both get ready quickly, not making an effort to make yourselves look too put together since you only had intentions of lounging by the hotel pool all day. You both enjoyed your breakfasts, laughing and making small talk about what you both wanted to do before your honeymoon came to an end. 

Once you were finished eating, you both wandered over to the hotel pool and found lounge chairs to relax in before you got in the pool. You had your sunglasses pulled over your face while Mark people-watched for a bit. The pool slowly but surely became more busy, soon an older couple took over the lounge chairs beside the two of you. The older gentleman smiled at the sight of you and Mark holding hands and talking to each other quietly. 

“You both remind me of my wife and I,” he stated suddenly.

Mark turned with a shy smile, “Oh, thank you sir.”

“We’re husband and wife now! And we’re on our honeymoon!” You add excitedly.

The man laughs heartily and introduces himself to the both of you with a handshake. Mark quickly responds with your name and his own, “and we’re the Lees.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Lee, that has a nice ring to it, enjoy your honeymoon lovebirds,” the man smiles warmly before turning to his own wife.

You pull Mark closer in a fit of poorly contained elation, he’s mostly on your lounger by now, “We’re the Lees!”

Mark smiles with a blush, nuzzling into your neck as you pepper his forehead with a flurry of kisses. The Lees. Mr. and Mrs. Lee, that was you and Mark. He was your husband and you were his wife. He still couldn’t believe it. You could hardly believe it yourself. You were so excited and giddy to finally be married.

After a day at the pool, you both walked to a restaurant in the resort, greeting the host. “Ah yes, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, it's so nice to see you around the resort. How are you finding your honeymoon so far?” Mark finds himself zoning out, lost once again in the daze that hearing the both of you known as “Mr. and Mrs. Lee” throws him in. 

“It’s been so amazing, the resort has so much to do,” you answer with a polite smile. 

“I’m so glad to hear that, our finest table for our honeymooning husband and wife,” the host smiles as you come up to your table.

Mark rushes to pull out your chair and helps you move closer to the table, “it sounds so official.”

You hum, looking over the menu, “What does, my love?”

“Husband and wife.”

You look up with an arched brow, “Is that not what we are?”

“No, we are!” Mark reassures quickly, “I just meant that it sounds strange- in a good way. We were boyfriend and girlfriend for so many years, then we were fiancés for a bit, but now…. Now we’re husband and wife, like for real.” 

You stare at him in awe, “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way. This is the last title we’ll ever have for each other, no more changes.”

Mark laughs and places his hands on either side of his face, “Baby, we’re going to be husband and wife for the rest of history. Like generations from now, people will look at pictures of us and describe us as husband and wife!”

“Mark! Can we focus on getting through our first week as husband and wife before you think 50 years into the future?”

“I can’t help it, wife! I’m just so excited to be your husband and like, you’re my wife!”

“Yes, my love, that’s what the whole ceremony was for, the rings too, and this honeymoon,” you explain slowly, making sure he’s both hearing and understanding you.

Mark scoffs, reaching across the table to take your hand in his own, his thumb playing with the diamond on your ring finger, “Yes, I know that, thank you. I think it’s going to take me a while before I get used to hearing us call each other husband and wife.”

“I don’t want you to get used to it,” you pout at him, “I want you to be this excited and amazed about you being my husband forever.”

“Of course I’m going to be excited forever. If anything, I think my heart will skip a beat every time you call me your husband just like my heart still skips a beat when you look at me,” Mark smiles softly, admiring the way the warm light of the candle on the table illuminates your face. He thinks you’re the most beautiful human he’s ever laid his eyes on.

You squeeze his hand, averting your gaze to the menu in front of you again to hide your embarrassment, “you’re a sweet talker, Mark.”

Mark laughs and shrugs nonchalantly, “part of the reason you married me, right my wonderful wife?”

“That and many, many more, my handsome husband,” you smile at Mark, your wonderful husband.

Taglist! @spacejip

[m1ngkis]

Mingi the munch (18+)

A/N: MINORS BE GONE. This will contain oral intercourse in a closet and my man of course. MWAH

Mingi is a munch and I will die on that hill. I can just see him losing himself between your thighs and eating you out until his eyes cross and his tongue goes numb.

He especially likes to do it right before a show. While staff and his other members are bustling around and yelling time checks, all he can think about is getting his mouth on your pussy before he goes on stage.

I want to say he thinks of it almost like a claim like yeah he's about to make 10,000 people scream his name but you're the only one that gets to have him on his knees like that.

He spots you sorting out their clothes for the quick changes just as a staff yells "Ten minutes!"

It's a simple touch to the small of your back but it feels like fire skating up your spine. Your head whips to find him and you barely catch him slip down the hall.

"Can you finish this up for me?" You hand the clothing to your assistant and go for the hallway, the chatter of voices getting quieter the farther you go.

"Mingi?" You call out for him. "We don't have time for this. You need to be with your members."

"I'll be quick, promise." You gasp as he appears behind you, lifting your body and carrying you into a nearby closet.

He doesn't even bother closing the door all the way, letting the light filter inside the small space through the crack. He's on his knees in a second, fiddling with the button of your pants.

"You're gonna get dirty! Get up!"

"You really want to spend the next eight minutes arguing or you want me to make you cum?"

You can see it in his eyes. He needs this. He's tense, anxiety coursing through his nerves. Six years and he's still afraid he won't do well enough.

Your silence gives him his answer as he resumes tugging your clothes down and off. Your hand finds it self in his hair as he kisses your thighs, hiking on up on his shoulder as he nips at your skin.

"Mingi.." You don't mean to rush him but now that he'd gotten you like this, the anticipation was killing you.

"I'm here. Not going anywhere." He mumbles just as his tongue stretches out and licks you up from hole to clit before settling his lips around it, making you shudder.

His tongue swirls around the bud along with the suction of his lips and it sends waves up pleasure to your senses, making your brain fog and your mouth the drop.

As soon as the first moan escapes your mouth, Mingi relaxes. His shoulders drop and his eyes flutter closed as your taste on his tongue takes him to heaven.

You let out a shaky curse when he split you open on two of his fingers, thrusting lazily into you but still hitting the spots he needed to have you shaking and gripping his hair and shoulders.

"Five minutes!" Another staff yells and just as you tense, Mingi groans against your sex, as his tongue and fingers trade places.

He rubs tight circles on your clit and opens his eyes to watch as you fall apart, his name on your lips in harsh whispers as you try not to be heard.

He keeps moaning against your pussy as your juices coat his chin and the tip of his nose. He can feel you getting close. It's in the way your eyes screw shut and your fingers practically grip the hair out of his head. The way your pussy clenches around his tongue so hard it makes his eyes roll back

So even before you let out a breathless, "Fuuck, Mingi!", he's ready to catch your release on his tongue.

"Thank you." He helps you get dressed again as you come down from your high. "Even though it was pretty risky this time."

"Any time, baby." You don't even want to look at him because if the hard on against your belly was anything, you're sure the sparkling in his eyes would have made you drop to your knees right then.

"Showtime everybody! Where's Mingi!? Anybody seen him?"

"You gonna go out like that?" You graze a hand across his boner and he lets out a hiss.

"Yeah..Trust me, fans will like it." He chuckles, before kissing your lips.

"Go be great."

"Always do."

[roanofarcc]

CHASE IT

pairing. javi rivera x reader

summary. Javi has a problem telling you how he feels until he almost loses you. 

warnings. angst with a happy ending! slightly inaccurate meteorological info, a curse word or two, descriptions of injuries, reader gets hurt, love confessions! movie scenes will not be shot-for-shot but as close as I can remember.

word count. 2.5k || masterlist

The car ride to El Reno was tense. A tornado was hurling toward a town full of people and Javi had made the decision to follow Kate, Tyler, and the rest of the wranglers to help instead of staying with Storm Par. And as much as you wanted to tell him it was the right choice, you were too stubborn to. It wasn’t because you didn’t agree; you did. You’d been skeptical of the business since you started working for them but you tried, time and time again, to convince yourself that they were helping people. It wasn’t until seeing Kate’s reaction that you snapped back to reality. 

You didn’t say anything to Javi because you were still upset with him. The night before you two had gotten into an argument bigger than you ever had. You’d come to the end of your line. For the past couple of years, you’d been stuck in a confusing limbo with him. One minute you were making out in bars and staying up until the early hours of the morning talking, and the next he treated you like a co-worker. He was up and down, hot and cold. You had no idea where you stood, and you had gotten so tired of waiting around for him to finally commit. You started to think he never would. 

But heaven forbid you get flirted with by a good-looking stranger at the diner you’d all stopped at for dinner. Javi refused to make a move and he tipped-toed around an answer when you asked him what the two of you were doing. But he didn’t like someone else making the move he wouldn’t do. It wasn’t fair. All you wanted to was to know how he felt, but he couldn’t seem to give you that. So, you two argued, hot and angry. You still felt the thick tension cloud the car, with the added anxiety of the people directly in the storm’s path. 

You both stayed silent the whole ride, not speaking until you arrived in a town that was alive with sirens and dangerous winds. You had spotted Kate, and Javi was quick to throw the truck into park. You both rushed out, only to find a frantic Kate trying to lift a heavy piece of debris that trapped Tyler’s foot. Javi grabbed the closest thing he could find, stuck it under the piece of debris and you all lifted it enough for Tyler to yank his foot free. He didn’t look too badly injured, or maybe his body was pumping enough adrenaline to keep him upright. 

“We’ve gotta find shelter!” Kate yelled above the whirling winds. The nearest building that people rushed into was an old-looking movie theater down the road. There didn’t look to be many obvious safe places in the dated downtown, but the storm was moving fast, and staying outside only worsened their chance of survival. 

None of you had a chance to take off anywhere before a horrible creaking sound echoed above the wind. You spun around just as the town’s water tower started to make its way to the ground. A string of curses left your lips, tumbling out of your mouth as the water tower crashed to the Earth, releasing the water in a rush. You tried to run, but the water mixed with the flying debris swept all of you up before you could get far. 

The current pulled you harshly before it slammed your body against the front of a building. Pain brushed up your side as you groaned, soaked head to toe from the mixture of rain and rushing water that depleted as it continued down the street.

You coughed, feeling like you were still moving. Everything spun around you, whipping around as you sat on the ground trying to grasp your bearings. It wasn’t until Kate appeared at your side and pulled you to your feet did you rip yourself from your daze. There was no time to think about anything other than getting everyone to safety. The sky was turning darker by the minute and the town had already erupted in chaos. 

In your wet clothes, you took off after the group, following the mass of people into the movie theater. 

The place had no basement, only scared people confused storm chasers. You were suddenly filled with hopelessness, cold and daunting that crept into your gut. It was bad, really bad, and growing worse by the minute. If the tornado hit the theater, there was a good chance not everyone would make it out alive. 

You had no idea what to do, but you saw something flicker in Kate’s eyes, something the boys had missed as they watched the storm out of one of the exits, trying to come up with a plan for all of the people inside. She took off running towards the other exit, and you followed her. 

You had only just met Kate, but Javi had told you a lot about her from their college days. He trusted her, and from what you’d seen that week so far, so did you. Maybe it was a reckless move, following an almost stranger outside in the middle of a tornado, but you weren’t thinking rationally, only with the mindset that something had to be done and Kate seemed to know what that was. 

It wasn’t until she reached Tyler’s truck that you caught her, grabbing her arm before she swung open the door. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, breathlessly. “Please, don’t try to stop me.” 

You glanced at the incoming storm, the ominous clouds that held so much destruction within its black, swirling form. “I'm going with you.” 

She looked like she wanted to ask why, but there was no time. Instead, she nodded and quickly got into the truck as you followed, hopping into the passenger seat. 

Javi had told you of Kate’s original study in school; she wanted to stop a tornado. And it looked like she was going to put it to the test again. She raced through a field, hitting every bump, causing your head to nearly hit the roof of the truck each time. 

You had been close to a tornado, closer than most people willingly got, but you’d never been inside of one. Nor had you seen a storm quite like that one. The tornado was massive, a wall of sheer force that knocked into the truck with everything it had, knocking the wind right out of you. 

Kate was too determined to be paralyzed by the swirling darkness that surrounded you. She slammed down on the buttons on the center console, but nothing was happening. 

“It’s not working,” she cried, trying again and again as her panic swelled. You shuttered, hardly hearing her above the roar of the wind. The truck rocked, unsteady, and you weren’t sure how much force it would be able to take. The size of that tornado wasn't like the kind the Wranglers drove into. 

You glanced out the rearview window at the barrels on the trailer that were supposed to release their contents, but the lids remained on. Kate gripped the steering wheel hard as the wind beat against the doors, shaking the truck worse and worse by the second. Her hands shook too, trembling as the tornado continued to engulf you, threatening to chew you two right up and spit you out like it was nothing. 

You repeated Kate’s actions with the buttons, hitting them with a silent prayer again and again until finally, the lids all popped open, and their contents were sucked up into the storm. 

Both of your relief was short-lived as the storm overpowered the rig. The world blurred before your eyes as the truck was flipped. The passenger side window was shattered as you landed upside down; shards of glass sliced through the skin on your face, but the pain wasn’t felt right away. The only thing you felt was the intense drumming of your heart that beat against your ribs. 

You’d felt panic before in a storm, a small drop compared to what you felt at that moment. It was hard to breathe with the world seemingly closing in around you. You didn’t want to die, not like that. But it felt inevitable at that moment. The blood rushing to your head, the shattered glass peppering your skin, and the scream of the twister directly over top of you. 

Your mind was on fire, but you tried to find an anchor, something to hold your panic still enough to think straight. Javi came to mind subconsciously. You saw him, his sweet smile and dark eyes. The argument you had was far from your mind. Instead, all you saw was the good stuff. Sneaking out of your motel rooms to watch the stars on clear nights during chases. Him laughing at your jokes no matter how terrible. The way he had memorized your drink order and insisted on buying you them at every bar. Despite his inability to just tell you how he felt, Javi had always been the person you were drawn back to. And you didn’t see that stopping. Maybe it would hurt in the long run, and maybe it was just wishful thinking that he wanted anything deeper than what you had. But he was so intertwined in your life. He was the only person you wanted to share things with, the first person who you had cared about so intimately.  

You loved him, you realized. You had pretty shit timing. 

Or maybe not. 

A hand grasped your arm, sending a wave of pain through your shoulder. You gasped, peeling open your eyes you hadn’t even realized were closed. Turning your head, you saw Kate’s glossy eyes staring back at you, wide but focused. She held her hand hovering over your arm; it was red, and you weren't sure if it was her blood or yours. 

“We did it,” she whispered, and you realized you could hear her, easily. The roar of the wind was gone. The storm was just…gone. A smile broke out on her lips as she repeated," We did it!” 

There was a nasty cut on her face, blood running down the side of it. Your hands fumbled for your seatbelt and harness, undoing them quickly and trying to maneuver your body so you didn’t land on your head in the overturned truck. 

“We’ve got to get the hell out of here,” you breathed out. Kate followed your actions. Shards of glass cut up your hands as you crawled out of the busted window, slowly and pained. You clawed at the mud, never having felt so grateful for the feeling of the earth under your fingers. 

You only managed to get your upper half out of the truck before someone grabbed your arms. Looking up, you met Javi’s panicked gaze. He held onto your arms tightly, breathing heavily and rain-soaked. He helped you the rest of the way out and pulled you to your feet. The world still spun a little, and you swayed, disoriented. He didn’t let go of you, keeping his hands firmly on your shoulders. It looked like his mouth was moving, but the sudden movement of standing hurt your head. 

It took a couple of moments before his voice cut through the pounding in your head. “Are you okay?” 

You swallowed thickly, achy and definitely bruised. But you were alive and that was a lot better than you’d thought you be a minute ago. “I-I think so.” 

He sighed in relief before his expression shifted into something unreadable. With his hands still on your shoulders, he shook you, gently but enough to get his point across. “What is wrong with you?!” Javi raised his voice too. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have died! Seriously, what-”

You cut him off by shoving him hard enough for him to drop his hold on your shoulders. The revelation you just had slipped back to the back burner and the fight you had the night before stood front and center. 

“Are you seriously yelling at me right now?” you bit back. 

“Yes!” He threw his hands up in the air as if to say ‘obviously.’ “I thought you died! You can’t do shit like that! You can’t just leave in the middle of a goodman storm and not tell me!” 

A scoff fell from your lips. Your whole body throbbed in a dull pain, momentarily overshadowed by the adrenaline pumping through your veins. “Why do you care?” you shouted back; your words were coated in hurt that you’d been too angry to express during your fight the night before. You hadn’t said all that you wanted, but it bubbled to the surface and mixed with the flush of emotions you felt in the middle of the storm for Javi. 

He looked offended by your words. “I care because…because you’re you! And if something happened to you I-I…” he trailed off, caught on his words.

You were sure if the wetness on your face was fresh tears, blood seeping from the little cuts, or leftover tears from your near-death experience. Too many things were spiraling around you, even though the storm had stopped. 

“You still can’t do it.” Your chest hurt like someone had reached inside and sank their nails into your heart. “You still can’t tell me how you feel.” 

Wiping your cheeks, you stumbled backward, on the verge of crying. But before you could walk away, he caught your wrist, spinning you around to face him. 

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” he admitted, blurting out with so much emotion it was dizzying. You were sure you'd never seen him look like that, scared yet brave. “If you died and I never got to tell you…” He took a breath, sliding his hand down your wrist and into your hand. “Tell you that I love you.” 

For a moment, you weren’t sure you had heard him right. You blinked, silently staring for a moment. You’d hit your head more than once and everything was still a little off as you came back down from the tornado. 

“You what?” 

“I love you,” he said, that time without hesitation. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” 

You smiled, bright and relieved. You hastily grasped the side of his face before pulling him toward you in a sweet but desperate kiss. That kiss was different than it had been before, in the darkened corners of country bars. The kiss was full of pent-up emotions and unsaid words finally spilled. 

Pulling apart, you rested your forehead against his, laughing lightly at the absurdity of it all. You still felt like you were spinning.

Someone behind you both cleared their throat and you felt your face get hot at the raised brows of Tyler and Kate. “Sorry,” you said, feeling giddy and still a little woozy. 

“Don’t be,” Tyler replied. “That was beautiful.” Kate rolled her eyes and smacked his arm. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Kate said before she and Tyler led the way back to town. 

You and Javi lingered for a moment longer, your hands intertwined. “I love you too,” you said, earning a toothy grin from him. He slung his arm around your shoulder, careful to avoid the little bumps and scarps you’d accumulated over the course of the storm, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

[joemama-2]

nanami kento has always been a patient man. he’s respectful and doesn’t talk to unless spoken to. he doesn’t like most people, might even hate some. but you’re not the type of person he would exactly hate, unlike a certain someone. he thinks you’re kind, polite, you always bow respectfully to your seniors, you diligently complete every task that’s asked of you. there’s also one more thing about you….he just cant put his finger on it. maybe you’re just tolerable, yeah that’s it.

you’re not a sorcerer, at least not a very good one. it’s why you’ve opted to be an auxiliary manager like ijichi and akari. “as long as i get to help the sorcerers in battle, i’m fine with whatever position i’ve been assigned.” you would say with a big and warm smile, innocently, naively. he thinks you’re too good for such a rotten society, something like that will get people killed. and he doesn’t want you on that list.

when he first met you back in high school, he didn’t think much of you. you weren’t a special grade, you didn’t have any awesome technique, you were just simply there. maybe you have connections, he thought. because there’s no way someone like you was admitted into tokyo jujutsu high. to this day, he doesn’t know how you did it. maybe you have some super cool talent that you didn’t like showing, maybe you just won over everyone’s hearts and they felt pity for you, he’ll never be able to find out. that’s one of his many regrets.

his other regrets are letting himself grow attached for no reason. no matter what, his eyes had a mind of his own, searching and scanning any room or environment for your figure. he chalks it up to protectiveness, you weren’t strong like he was and he didn’t want to see another comrade die. because thats all you were, a comrade. a comrade. a comrade. he chants this mantra into his mind every morning.

nanami didn’t know how it happened, but one thing led to another and he was always alone with you. comfortable silence was what he loved the most. you two could sit together for hours in a flower field you came across one day, just watching the sky and clouds form random shapes. you liked when they made hearts and little animals. although he always argued that they’re just clouds.

but, clouds almost reminded him of you. free, soft, floating around from place to place, and residing high in the sky. because he knew, no matter what, you were one of the few people who would go to heaven in this sick world, sick society. you belonged in heaven, you looked like an angel, acted like a goddess.

“let’s go to malaysia together.” you told him randomly one day, seeing an ad pop up about a beautiful vacation spot. kuantan. he didn’t take you too seriously. malaysia? out of all places? he didn’t see the hype.

all these thoughts flood his brain when he sees your body, looking lifeless and bloody, next to ijichi. you two have huge stab wounds in your mid-section. however, you have a bit more than your co-part, clear signs of your fight. even when you know you don’t have the upper hand, you won’t hesitate to fight back.

it’s hard as he carries you two, having to make sure ijichi doesn’t fall off his back while simultaneously holding you close to his chest. his heart twists and turns, stomach churning the entirety of the slow walk he does to bring you two back to ieiri. his mind is running rampant, constantly looking down at you. you can’t be dead, he thinks. neither of you two are dead, he can’t see more comrades die.

it’s almost weird to him how his throat tightens, tears stinging at his eyes. you don’t move, head lolling to the side as barely a sign of a breath is escaping your lips. your skin is pale and bruising. he hates it, hates how you look, hates how hurt you are, hates how he wasn’t there to stop it and protect you.

he sets you down first once he reaches shoko, handing the passed out ijichi to her. finally, he kneels down, taking in your appearance. nanami rarely gets mad, at least not seriously. but this time, he’s absolutely furious. silently seething as he breathing gets heavy. his fists clench by his side, nails drawing blood into the skin.

he gets up, no being able to stand how you look. but, he forgets you’re a fighter, forgets that no matter what, you look out for the sorcerers. out for him.

“kento….” you straggle out, hand weakly clutching onto his. you can barely keep your eyelids open. you mutter out the next few words. “…man….blonde……ponytail……s-sword….”

ah, he thinks. that’s his target.

he gulps, simply nodding. but your hand stays clutched onto his. using all your strength, you open your eyes wider, and he hates the tears that form in them. “….come back to me please…..”

he feels like crying with you. but he can’t, not now at least. he kneels down again, bringing the back of your hand up to his lips to press feather light kisses to each knuckle. his other hand gently uses his thumb to wipe your tears, treating you with utmost care. “kuantan,” he murmurs. “when this is all over, i’ll take you.”

you weakly chuckle, more tears falling at this point. “..p-promise..?”

he hesitates, but you notice. “promise.“ he says back, leaning down to give your forehead a kiss, sealing the promise. he places your hand back to your stomach before getting up to leave, not before sparing you one last glance.

and as you watch him leave, you don’t even know that it’s the last time you’ll ever see him, last time he’ll ever see you. because you trust his word, trusted that he’d come back to you.

nanami leaves with a heavy heart, staring death in the face and yet all he can think about is you. there’s many regrets he has.

he broke your guys’ promise, he hopes you won’t stay mad at him.

he won’t be able to take you to kuantan.

he won’t be able to see you, hold you, talk to you.

and finally, he wasn’t able to confess that he loved the simplicity. that he loved you.

he’ll see you again, in heaven and in another life. until then, he’ll watch over you. because nanami kento has always been a patient man.

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 2'627

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, Implied forced relationship, Implied captivity, Toxic relationship, Possessiveness, Invasion of personal space, Non-consensual touching.

Additional Notes: Do be kind, I have not written for this man before and find him exceedingly difficult.

Every week at the Hotel, there was something new Charlie had planned.

Trust exercises. Ice breakers. Activities meant to bring everybody closer together as a group. To try and get people to open up and show a side of vulnerability that - she believed - would help sinners take one step closer to salvation.

Most of them were awkward, and a lot of them never went as planned. A fact she realized and, after a near mental breakdown, had her promptly take advice from Vaggie and agree to try something different.

The task was very simple compared to the previous activities. She requested everybody to think about redemption and what it meant to them.

Thinking about the definition itself took little to no effort.

Redemption (noun): The action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil.

But it was clear that Charlie wanted more than just a quote from the dictionary. She wanted residents of the Hotel to mull over it while looking deep down into themselves so they could share their stance on the matter later on.

That was the tricky part.

From how you saw it, “saving yourself” from sin was easy enough to accomplish. ‘Just don’t be a dick and avoid the bad shit.’ was the first thought that came to mind, but where you hit a snag was based on what Charlie had shared about Heaven. According to her, even so much as breathing in Hell was enough to solidify your place in the inferno, yet she made it clear that actively resisting sin wasn’t something to go unrecognized.

It took a lot of effort, energy, and courage to do so, and it was hard to disagree even if Heaven didn’t see it that way.

Error was a bit harder. In your opinion, nobody could be saved from that, at least not entirely. Eventually, inevitably, you or someone else would do something wrong, it was just a matter of degree. It could be something as minor as bumping into somebody by accident or as major as Angel relapsing for what felt like the hundredth time, but it would happen and it was only a matter of time.

Charlie did bring up a rather good point, though. Apologizing when you realized you had done something wrong was the best thing someone could do, and it was the first step in the right direction.

You had to give her credit where it was due for that.

But evil was a different matter entirely.

Evil lurked everywhere in Hell. Across every street, around every corner, evil was out in the open for everyone to bear witness and see. None of it was hidden. None of it was meant to be hidden.

What would be the point? You and every other sinner were already in Hell - and many would argue that hiding it would be counterintuitive to being there in the first place.

Charlie tried to plead the case that everyone had good in them. A good that could be tweezed out if given the right chance, and the right environment, which the Hotel was perfect for.

You wish you could agree.

Evil was in the hotel itself, not that Charlie was fully willing to see it.

You believed she was careless there. Little Miss Bleeding Heart wanted to see the best in people, and by god did you ever want to know what it was like to see through such rose-tinted glasses, but you knew you never could. Not in this place.

Stepping a foot into the building was the worst thing you’d ever done because it showed you just how wrong you were about evil being so out in the open. It still had the ability to lurk, something you learned the moment you shook hands with Alastor.

You could see it on his face upon meeting him for the first time - the way Alastor’s perpetual grin widened upon seeing the goosebumps that lined your arms when he clasped your hand in his. No comment was ever made on the matter, but the way his lips peeled back to reveal the black of his gums before he pressed a brief kiss to your knuckles said enough.

Something utterly sinister reeked from him in a manner you couldn’t describe, so you took your own advice and applied the same thing you did when it came to sin.

Avoidance. As much as you could, at least.

Some moments were easier than others. The distinct metallic clack of Alastor’s microphone against the floor combined with a surge of radio static usually bought enough time for you to make whatever excuse you needed in order to leave before he arrived.

Other times you weren’t so lucky, and Charlie’s group meetings were usually to blame in that regard.

At first, you made a great deal of effort to put as much distance between yourself and the Radio Demon as you could, which worked for a time. Unfortunately, Alastor caught onto what you were doing much faster than you would’ve liked.

He reveled in it. You knew he did. After a while you had the gnawing suspicion he was purposefully going out of his way to make you as uncomfortable as possible for his own entertainment. You saw no other reason as to why he’d consistently move so close to you that you could literally feel him breathing down your neck.

Lately, he had adopted the skin-crawling habit of locking eyes with you the moment you stepped foot in the room and patting the seat beside him - reserved specifically for you. Accepting the gesture felt like swallowing nails, but being openly rude to Alastor was something that you knew better than to do.

Instead, you began to find excuses for skipping the meetings entirely and have Angel or Husker fill you in later, which was exactly what you were doing now.

“To be honest I wasn’t payin’ much attention,” Angel said while he scrolled through his phone, resting his chin in his upper left hand while his lower right swirled alcohol around in a glass. “Was the kind of thing that could’ve been sent in an email.”

You traced your finger around the rim of your own glass, its contents untouched. “Still, I want to know what I missed.”

“He’s right, it wasn’t anything special,” Husker replied, slinging a cloth over his shoulder from behind the bar. “Same old bullshit about salvation with a new coat of paint on top.”

A pang went through your chest, but you pushed it down. “So nothing new?”

Angel scoffed and looked up from his phone. “Trust me, dollface, you did yourself a favor.” He downed the rest of his drink in one go. “What were you doing anyways?”

“You know…” You replied with a shrug, glancing down. “I went out.”

Angel smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Out?”

“Yeah.” You tapped your nails against the edge of the glass. “Things were feeling a little claustrophobic, so I went out for some air.”

Husker made a noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I know how you feel, kid. This place is a mess.”

Angel tilted his head, placing his phone down on the bar and leaning forward a bit. “So where’d you go? Anywhere fun?”

“Where indeed~.”

All your movements went rigid. After a few seconds, you slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder to see Alastor standing barely a foot away from you, staring down at you with a tight, closed-lipped smile. You hadn’t heard him coming in the slightest, which you immediately could tell was intentional.

Whether he’d used his shadow or had actually stalked up behind you wasn’t something you wanted to think about, and if Angel or Husker picked up on the immediate tension, neither of them said anything about it.

“Hey, Smiles.” Angel greeted with his usual flirtation, placing the elbows of his upper arms on the bartop as he turned to face Alastor. “Fancy a drink? You look a little stiff” He gave Alastor a very long once over, “and I’ll have you know I know a few ways I can help relieve some… tension.” 

Alastor’s lips curled back to reveal his teeth, the muscle in his cheek spasming for a moment.

Mentally you were kissing Angel on the cheek for the save as you slowly picked your coat up off the bar and slipped it on, concealing the goosebumps already present on your skin. Husker gave you a glance from the side and gave a very slight shake of his head, silently advising you against your unspoken desire to leave.

“I assure you, such a thing is never going to happen.~”

“You sure?” Angel rested his lower right arm on his hip. “I have a few tricks that can loosen you up.”

The leather in Alastor’s gloves audibly squeaked as his grip tightened around the staff of his microphone and his attention immediately shifted back to you, ignoring Angel entirely.

“My dear,” His voice dripped with such a saccharine sweetness it made you feel sick, “Could I speak with you for a moment?”

Fewer combinations of words could instill such a unique feeling of encroaching dread all at once, but you refused to let it show as you nodded and turned your body on the bar stool to face him fully; waiting for him to say the first word.

His eye twitched ever so slightly.

“Privately.”

That made you swallow.

“Sure.” You slid off the bar stool, doing your best not to appear as reluctant as you felt.

“Lovely.~” He said, promptly turning on his heel and walking towards the staircase - expecting you to follow.

You glanced back towards Husker and Angel, each giving you looks of grim sympathy and confusion respectively before you took a deep breath and forced one foot in front of the other, following Alastor up the steps.

You thought he would talk along the way. Engage in some form of idle chit-chat where he’d be pulling the strings, or even hum along to the countless jazz tunes that he played in the halls over the Hotel’s sound system.

But no such music played and he remained silent. A few minutes into the walk you gathered enough courage to glance up at him and found his eyes locked straight forward, not even sparing you so much as a glance.

You averted your gaze, the hem of your sleeves suddenly the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen.

Eventually, he came to a stop, and he held out the end of his microphone to prevent you from going any further down the hallway.

“Here we are!” Rather than producing a key from his coat, a green flash emanated from the lock when he placed his hand on the handle and opened the door.

He all but leered at you as he gave a small bow that didn’t feel genuine in the slightest.

“After you.~”

Like the alleged gentleman he was, Alastor held the door open for you, eyes never leaving your form as you walked inside his suite.

The smell of dampness and soil hit you immediately.

Alastor’s suite wasn’t the worst thing you’d seen in Hell by a mile, however, it was still eerie beyond words. The skeletons that hung along the walls and mantlepiece of his fireplace became less complete and increasingly disorganized as they led further into the room - which itself gave way to a swamp-like environment halfway through. Undoubtedly a result of whatever hoodoo, voodoo bullshit he was capable of, and while it still wasn’t the worst you’d seen, it served its purpose thoroughly.

It creeped the shit out of you.

“Now, then.” Alastor clicked the door shut, his body half-facing yours as his hand still lingered on the doorknob. “I'm sure you have a good explanation for what you’ve been doing.~”

The immediate dryness in your throat was hard to ignore. You knew what he was talking about, and you knew that he knew, but you still attempted to buy some time as you tried to figure out what to do.

You cleared your throat. “I was just catching up with Angel and Husk-”

He chuckled, the sound like that of a radio shifting stations. “Don’t be coy.” His head turned towards you with a sickening, ossified crackle that bent his neck in a manner that made your stomach lurch. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I’d like to know why.”

Fuck.

“I haven’t.” Lying to Alastor was a mistake, but you still decided to risk it since it wasn’t entirely false. “There’s just been a lot on my mind recently.”

“Hmm.” Interest and something much worse flickered behind his eyes as he faced you fully with another crack of his vertebrae. “Such as~?”

You shook your head, looking away from him. “That’s private.”

There was a quick flash of red, and the tip of his microphone turned your face back towards him - the cool metal of the edge digging into the skin of your cheek. You had to bite back a grimace.

“Not when it concerns me.” His tone was sharp, a stark contrast to the faux politeness he was putting on before. He kept the tip of his microphone where it was to prevent your eyes from looking anywhere but him. “And trust me darling, when it comes to you, everything concerns me.”

His words twisted in your gut. “...I’m not sure what you mean.”

Alastor tutted, his smile widening once more. “Don’t be stupid, darling, it’s unbecoming of you.” The way he said it was patronizing, like he was scolding a child. “You know precisely what I mean, so I’m going to ask again, as much as I hate repeating myself.~”

Cool metal was replaced with the warmth of his hand as he tilted your head up and brought his face frighteningly close to yours.

“Why are you keeping yourself from me?”

It was an odd sensation. Being backed into a corner, both metaphorically and physically. A frightening one that all but yanked on your instincts to do whatever it meant to get the fuck out of there, but you knew that was the worst thing you could do.

Alastor was a predator, a creature designed to prey on those he deemed weaker, and turning your back on a predator would almost certainly trigger a series of events that would not bode well for you.

So you did the next worst thing.

You told him the truth.

“Because I can see you.” The words felt wrong to say out loud. “I can see you for what you are, I can feel the absolute malevolence that radiates off you in waves, and it’s suffocating.”

Saying any more was a horrendous idea, but you couldn’t help but add one last thing.

“And if I want any chance at leaving this god-forsaken place, I can’t be around you.”

The silence that stretched on afterward was deafening.

Mentally, you were bracing yourself. Alastor had killed people for far less, and you expected nothing different for saying something so daring to his face.

You could see it too, the anger that simmered underneath his gaze. You expected the red of his sclera to flash black and his antlers to extend with his body in a grotesque display before you were ripped to pieces while he laughed.

What you didn’t expect was for his eyes to narrow into slits and his expression shift into one that was far more genuine than you wanted it to be, and it was then you knew that being saved from this kind of evil was never going to happen.

“Oh, my dear, you don’t need to worry about something silly like that.” Alastor all but cooed.

“After all, what makes you think I’d ever let you leave?~”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[springgirlshowers]

Desktop Struggles

Summary: You think the worker at this internet cafe is cute, a little weird too, you’ve made multiple attempts to get his attention.

CW: kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, biting kink?, overstim, multiple orgasms, smut galore!

WC: 3797

def inspired by this post ! tell me if u can spot my little hints at joosty being a vamp (•ᵥ_ᵥ•)

You didn’t really need to go to this place all this much. You had your own computer at home, and it definitely wasn’t as old as the ones in the cafe.

It wasn’t much of a cafe, you could get coffee. But it was bitter and disgusting. It was either that or water from the dispenser. Which you didn’t trust most of the time either.

You came across it when you had to complete an essay, but your laptop was getting fixed. So you had to stop by the Internet Cafe. Open 24/7. It was nearby and affordable.

But what kept drawing you back to that building was the cute receptionist. Actually. You weren't sure if he was a receptionist. More of a mix of receptionist/janitor/computer engineer. He was a worker. Probably the only one, it was always just him and sometimes the manager there.

Soft and slightly messy blond hair, faint black eyeshadow smudged on his eyes, numbers tattooed on his fingers, other tattoos littered his arms and peeked out from underneath his sleeves.

You knew his name. Joost. You saw it on his jacket. He had his own desk at the back, it was on the elevated part on the floor and next to the office door.

He spent most on the time typing on the keys, a cigarette hanging loose from his lips as he puffed even though there was a no smoking sign right next to him. Sometimes coming down from his desk to pick up trash people left behind.

Or he’d occasionally flip through the magazines he’d get from the metal display rack in the corner, next to the poorly taken care of chinese evergreen plant. He always picked up the medical ones, any that included anything about blood on them.

You figured out different ways to talk to him or get him over to where you were sitting.

You’d purposely mess up things on the computer, disconnecting it from the internet, unplugging the wires in the back of it, claiming that you had no idea how it happened, they must’ve been loose!

Or you’d pretend you didn’t know how to use certain features, hoping he’d teach you. Telling him that working with technology wasn’t your strong suit and other things like:

“Sorry, I can’t figure out how to insert a photo onto this document. Do you know how to?”

“Can you help me with the copier? I think it might be jammed just need to copy a few papers for one of my classes.”

“Could you show me how to print out documents? I need to print out an essay.”

Or asking him how much time you had left to keep using the computer.

Honestly, all these attempts sound quite pathetic. But what could you do? You had a silly crush on a worker at this cafe.

Though there was one incident. After you heard a little bit of arguing coming from behind that office door. You saw Joost come walking out angrily, black trash bag in one gloved hand and a cd in the other.

You watched him bend down and begin to look under the empty desks, scraping the old hardened gum off them. It was a bit funny watching him try to fit under and into the tiny space with how tall he was.

He stopped to look underneath the desk next to yours. You watched as he looked around underneath.

His hair looked so soft, you wanted to run your hands through it, you almost did actually, but you stopped yourself, putting your hand back onto the mouse instead.

You heard him scraping the CD against the wood, but then, you felt his fingers graze the skin of your leg. It was more than a graze honestly, more of him dragging his hand smoothly and slowly down your leg.

Your breath hitched as you felt his touch, his abnormally cold touch. You thanked the heavens you decided to wear shorts that day.

“Sorry, lost balance for a moment.” He said once he stood up.

Which was a complete and oblivious lie, especially with that small smile you saw on his lips.

Now it was particularly late tonight. You and a random old guy were the only ones left using the computers. You originally came here to study, but you ended up looking at clothes online and random intriguing articles.

You sighed quietly to yourself, it was late, nearly midnight. You could go back to your apartment, but you knew you’d be doing the same thing on your laptop there.

Eventually the man collected his things and left. Now it was only you and Joost in the building.

You opened up another tab and went into your documents, trying to figure out what you could mess up or play dumb about this time.

You decided to make a mock resume, you didn’t have the effort nor the energy to go through the process of making one tonight.

Then your next step was disconnecting the printer from that computer and disconnecting the internet, again.

You eyed Joost throughout your process, he was flipping through another magazine with a cigarette that was nearly a stub in between his lips.

You let out a dramatic scoff of disappointment as you slumped back in your chair to get his attention. It worked. Joost looked over with furrowed brows.

“Oh, sorry. I’m trying to print out a resume and the wifi disconnected so now I can’t connect to the printer either.” You shrugged and let your hands fall back onto the desk, a little frown on your lips.

Joost let out a small breath before crushing his cigarette into the overfilled ashtray before getting up and coming over. You had to hold back your smile.

He leant over behind you, he’d never done this before. Usually when he was helping someone, he’d just stand to the side and tell them what to click and what to type.

This time, he had his left hand splayed out on one side of the desk, his right doing the same. He had you caged in with his long arms, his face next to yours.

You tried to not let your breath stagger. But failed due to his next move.

He moved his hand onto the mouse, you’d hadn’t moved your house off the mouse yet. You couldn’t move it now. He moved the cursor around and clicked. Acting as if your hand wasn’t even under his at all.

“Even the old ladies here don’t have as many as issues as you do with the computers here.” Joost scoffed out a laugh, his other hand moving to type.

“I guess I just keep choosing the bad computers.” You joked, trying to mask your nervousness.

“Yeah. I guess you just keep thinking you can get away with disconnecting the internet on them too.” He said blankly, your eyes widened. He stopped typing and stopped moving around the mouse.

“You do realize I’m not that oblivious right? I know you’ve been doing this on purpose.” You saw him turn his face to you in your peripheral vision. You kept staring straight, too scared to meet his eyes.

“Come on, liefje. If you wanted my attention to me you could’ve just came up to my desk. You can’t keep messing up the computers, we worked hard to get these, you know?” He was scolding you, yet his tone of voice was soft. It almost sounded like he was trying to reassure you, comfort you.

“I can help you with other things instead of computers. You should’ve just told me what you wanted. A conversation, a smoke, a kiss?” There was no way he said that. He had to be joking.

You tried not to give any physical reaction to his last suggestion, but yet your body betrayed you with the smallest movement. Your eyes flickered down to his lips. Joost grinned.

“All you had to do was ask.” He teased, he brought his face closer, seeing if you’d take the leap of faith and move first. You did.

Your lips eloped around each other, you opened your mouth slightly, allowing his tongue to slip in. Continuing to kiss, you carefully stood up, shoving the chair away with your foot as you tangled your hands into his hair.

His hands moved to your waist, causing your shirt to rise slightly as he moved you back a bit to where the top of your thighs were pressing against the desk. You took one hand out of his hair to push the keyboard behind you, taking a seat on the edge of the desk.

It was embarrassing how quickly he was able to wipe away your bravery and get you flustered instead.

Joost pulled away, eyeing your body up and down. Without warning, he went for your neck. His lips kissing it all over, leaving trails of red spots all over the skin.

Then he pulled away. Stepping back. There was a long moment of confusion and embarrassment as he walked away, then relief as you watched him turn the light up sign that said ‘Open’ off, flip the sign on the door to the side that said ‘Closed! Be back soon!’ and drop the cheap white plastic blinds to cover the glass windows and locked door.

In seconds, his lips were back on you, his hands roaming madly all over your body. They cupped then squeezed your tits roughly, he smiled against your skin when he heard your breath hitch.

At one point he must’ve of taken his fingerless gloves off. You felt the skin of his palms once his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, rubbing up and down on the smooth skin of your stomach. Waisting no time, he pulled your shirt up and off your body.

“Eager, are we?” You giggled at his rushed movements to unclip your bra next.

“You’ve been giving me those eyes for months.” He said through a breathy chuckle, he was right. You had been giving him fuck-me-eyes since you first saw him, he was pent up, and couldn’t wait any longer.

His large hands grasped your breasts again, he kissed all along your chest, soon taking one nipple in his mouth. Teasing it with his tongue and sucking on it as his hand squeezed the other.

His hand and mouth swapped places, giving your other boob the same treatment. His kisses trailed down and stopped just above the waistband of your sweatpants. You kicked off your shoes, knowing what was next to come. He quickly pulled down your pants, the urgency making you giggle.

You spread your legs farther apart, he pressed a kiss to your clothed cunt. It was oddly….romantic.

He peppered kisses along your thighs as his fingers hooked around your panties, removing them as well. He hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you down but giving you enough space where you lay back on your elbows on the desk.

He trailed kisses along your thighs, occasionally nipping and biting them before finally bringing his attention to your pussy.

“Cute.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t even give you any time to think of what he meant before he dove in and worked his tongue like a madman. His tongue sloppily lapping at your opening as his nose brushed against your clit.

One hand tangled into his hair in response, your nails scratching his scalp. He moaned into your cunt at the feeling, the vibration of his noise adding more to the pleasure.

Your other hand had a white knuckle grasp on the edge of the desk. His mouth was bullying your bud, then his hands pressed against your thighs to prevent you trying to close them.

Worse, he gripped onto the back of your knees, pushing them up to where you could sit the heels on your feet onto the desk edge.

This new position felt lethal, the feeling making you let out a silent scream as your face contort as you mumbled out ‘Oh God’ multiple times.

He only dove deeper, mouth moving to suck on your cunt. You rolled your hips against his face and your hand gripped tighter at his hair as you came. Your head lolled back as you rode through your orgasm. You expected him to stop, to break away from you. But he continued.

He kept lapping at your cunt, his dick painfully hard against his pants due to the pathetic noises you were making. Your legs were already sore from tensing your muscles so much, already a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

You whined and whimpered and squirmed, trying to close your thighs and push his head away. But nothing could stop him, he was on a fucking roll, drunk off your juices.

In an attempt to get your hand a more stable spot on the desk, you moved it back, accidentally your hand went onto the keyboard behind. The old plastic board slipping and hitting into the neck of the blocky computer. No damage was done, just a bit of a shock to both of you.

“Shit! Sorry!” You giggled nervously, embarrassed at your accident. Joost pulled back and let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head.

Honestly, he was already running out of air, but he had to get that second orgasm out of you. So, he got off his knees, moved his mouth to your tits, and his hand to your cunt.

He rubbed two fingers against your slick before easily slipping them inside you, immediately curling and moving at a quick pace. Your body trembled.

You were already so sensitive, already so close. You wrapped your arm around his neck. He chuckled at you hanging onto him, your nails dug into his shoulder while you tilted and laid on your own upper arm as you mewled and whined.

His eyes never left yours as your jaw hung open and you cried out. Your other hand grabbed onto his wrist as you came undone for the second time.

“Ohhh I know, I know.” He cooed, resting his forehead against your temple, slowing down the movements of his fingers, and whispering praises to you and peppering soft kisses to your cheek and the side of your lips, soon moving your head to kiss you properly.

His movements came to a stop and he pulled his tattooed fingers from you, kissing you firmly but slowly.

“Was that too much? You okay?” He said after breaking away, pressing his forehead to yours.

“No. I’m okay.” You gave him a breathy weak laugh, your eyelids droopy as you stared at him. “We can keep going.”

“You sure?”

“Please, I wanna keep going.” You begged. Joost only smiled before giving you another long passionate kiss before stepping back, taking off his tan jacket, and grabbing you by the hips to turn you around.

You giggled as he pressed a hand to your back, pushing your front to lay on top of the table. The noise of his belt unclipping and hitting the floor along with his pants added 10x more excitement flowing through your veins.

He teased the tip of his cock inside you, then he pulled out. Then he did it a few more times before showing you mercy, rubbing his cock in between your folds before finally sinking into your cunt.

You whined at the stretching sensation. Joost smoothed his hand over the side of your stomach, whispering little encouragements and praises.

“You’re doing perfect, schatje. I know you can take me.” He leaned down to press small pecks to your back.

He gave you a moment to get used to the stretch of him inside you, you nodded as your signal for him to go ahead.

His thrusts started off slow and pulling out slightly, gentle. Then he would pull out all the way and go all the way back in, giving slow deep strokes.

He stopped, then immediately began to thrust into you at a high pace. It caught you off guard and made you arch your back as you cried out.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and whimpers, and Joosts breathy groans.

Your hips were hitting into the wooden sides of the desk. You let out a small noise of discomfort at one point and Joost noticed.

“You okay?” He asked, his brows furrowing in concern, his pace slowed a bit.

“Mhm. Please don’t stop, don’t- please!” You cried out, your moans were getting much louder now. Your voice nearly echoing throughout the room, embarrassingly. This caused Joost to clamp his cold hand over your mouth and shushed you.

He pulled you up, your back against his chest as he continued to thrust into you, you let out a loud whine against his hand.

“Shhh, you can’t be too loud, liefje. We don’t want anyone outside hearing and knowing what’s going on in here, right?” He turned your head back slightly so you could see him.

You whined into his hand and nodded. Your moans were muffled by his hand, but still loud enough to drive him fucking crazy.

This angle of his cock hitting inside you was overpowering, you lifted your hand up to grab onto his forearm.

“Aw schatje, you gonna cum?” He cooed, not even bothering to try and fight back the toothy grin on his face.

You scrunched your eyes shut, nodding frantically and whining.

As you clenched around him and cried out against his hand, he dug his teeth into your neck, not hard enough to pierce the skin, but a perfect amount of pressure where it was pleasing.

His thrusts slowed and came to a stop once you began to jerk and twitch. He took his hand off your mouth, moving to the center of your chest as his other was wrapped around your waist. Pressing small kisses to the side of your face and neck, occasionally nipping at it.

Surely you would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for his large hands keeping you pressed against him. Your breath hitched repeatedly and your thighs were shaking against him as he kept himself buried inside you.

Carefully, he helped you lean back down, you kept yourself up using your tired arms.

Without warning, he began to pound into you again, and you began to moan and sob out loudly in pleasure.

His hand was quick to cover your mouth again, you could hear him chuckle behind you.

“Fuck, just a bit longer, liefje. You can hold on for a bit longer, yeah?”

“Mmph, mhm!” You nodded, his hand still covering your mouth. He chose to be evil as his other hand moved to your clit, two fingers rubbing quick circles. You let out an embarrassing squeal.

“Think you can give me one more while you wait?” You didn’t even have to try and give him your answer, you cried out into his hand as you hit your fourth and final orgasm of the night,

At this point, his hand was the only thing keeping your head up. Your lips were smushed against his palm and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. Your arms were barely enough to keep yourself up.

You were putty in his hands, moaning mindlessly. It was beautiful.

He kept his hand on your mouth while he moved his other from your clit to hold onto your waist, holding onto so tight there’d be marks by morning. He was pulling you back as he thrusted into you.

His movements soon became sloppier and he removed his hand from your mouth so he could grasp onto your waist with both hands.

You clumsily let yourself lay onto the desk, hands tightening into fists, your nails digging into your palms.

Your loud mindless moans and walls squeezing around him pushed him over the edge.

He spilt inside you with an exasperated groan and a few harsh deep thrusts. Giving you one last hard thrust after he finished. Just to get a small yelp out of you. Bastard.

He pressed kisses to your back as you rested the side of your face against the table, laying himself against you but not putting all his weight on top of you. Your body was trembling against him as you both caught your breath.

“Fuck. Still okay?” He checked again after bringing his head up, looking at you sweetly as he smoothed back damp strands of hair away from your face.

“Absolutely. Are you okay?”

“Of course. A bit sweaty, but I feel amazing.” He scoffed playfully.

“I don’t understand how you’re still so cold though. I feel like I’ve been in a sauna.” You laughed, picking your head up.

“I don’t understand either. I’m always cold for some reason.” He lied. He knew the reason.

“You might have an iron deficiency, you should get that checked out.” You joked, a lazy grin on your face.

“Probably should.” He grinned back before leaning back up, pulling out slowly and apologizing quietly when he heard you wince.

You pushed yourself up using your hands, stabilizing yourself for a second then grabbing your shirt and bra that both had landed onto the privacy wall next to the computer.

By the time you turned around, Joost already had one glove back on (the hand that didn’t finger you), put back on his pants and tan jacket. He was holding your sweatpants and underwear.

Jesus Christ, he moved fast.

“Sit down, you’re too shaky. Let me help.” He suggested, you leaned back against the desk again.

He bent down, holding your ankle softly to help you step into your panties, sliding them up and doing the same with your sweatpants. And he put your shoes back on for you.

It was silly watching him be so gentle despite that a moment ago he was just pounding into you so hard that the entire row of computers were shaking.

He stood up and tucked away a few stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders lazily, his hands moved to your waist, thumbs rubbing over the fabric. The gears were turning in his head, he was hesitant to speak.

“So…you’ll be back tomorrow? Cause- I mean- I don’t mind that you stay longer than most customers. I really don’t mind at all.” He nervously shrugged, looking away from your eyes and fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

He was flustered. Cute.

“Maybe, will I get a discount?” You teased, tilting your head at him. Giving him a dramatic pout for extra measure.

“I’ll think about it.” He narrowed his eyes playfully and bit back a smile. It was definitely a yes.