#just goes to show that the best way to write women is to just make them weird. who knew 🤨

[sotiredmostnights]

obsessed with how the two best protags this anime season are a lackadaisical elf mage who only cares about learning weird, obscure magic and a girl who goes crazy over the prospect of ingesting some toxins as both an occupation and a hobby

[pynkhues]

Different anon here- I’m generally ok with mpreg existing. But the sheer volume of it in this fandom is pretty weird. Especially considering the source material… one of the great things about the unholy family (to me) is that it’s this family unit without the necessity for sexual reproduction. It’s so interesting because they all had lives outside of each other at some point so it’s part found family, part queer and yet biological parents. I think that’s one of the things I first loved about the 1994 movie and it’s a shame that aspect is overlooked

(x)

Yeah, I totally agree on all counts. Like I don't usually bat an eye at mpreg (whatever floats your boat! I'm very good at scrolling, haha) but there have literally been times I've opened ao3 and have counted five or six fics on the front page of updated works that are mpreg which feels really disproportionate to the amount of fic that actually gets posted in this fandom?

I - - mmm, kind of wonder a little if its tied to some of this gender essentialist stuff that's coming up more and more both in this fandom, and in social media generally? There feels like there's this real desire to shoehorn them into a quote-unquote 'traditional nuclear family dynamic' which really feels like it's the antithesis of the show. Like you said, the fact that they've all had lives outside of each other is, and the fact that as a family they are both one found and made is, I feel, pretty crucial not just to their interpersonal dynamics, but also to each individual character?

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 4] Expecting

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: Sukuna's an ass

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna visits you every night, trying to fulfill his duty. He’s doing his best to make it happen, but your womb is as bare as the day you met. It’s been three months since the day you showed up, and he’s been having sex with you nearly daily. You should be pregnant by now.

Yet, you’ve bled between the months. He’s been keeping track, after all, it’s his whim. You claim the bleeding is lighter than your usual lunar cycle, but that doesn’t signify anything for him… Perhaps you’re less fertile? It doesn’t make sense to him. Women don’t bleed while they’re pregnant, therefore you’re not expecting. 

He’s feeding you, clothing you, giving you luxuries that you could never afford in your lifetime– How dare you not fulfill his simple wish. He’s even helped your brother and helped your aunt in the process as well, he’s going above and beyond while you have done nothing for him.

He’s become increasingly harsh with you. He won’t dare to lay a hand on you, but he’s meaner than usual. He’s at times cruel with you, and while you try to understand that he’s just frustrated with the situation and lack of results, you get in your feelings about his behavior. Who wouldn’t be upset at the fact that a monster nearly twice their size is yelling at them over something they can’t control?

“King Sukuna will enjoy dinner with lady Kyoko tonight, my queen.” Uraume bows down before you. They’ve been giving you the announcement at least once a week. He’s rewarding her for your barren womb. You simply hum in response, barely even acknowledging them.

“Please tell Hina to make my dinner early, I want to rest soon.” You tell them before they leave the room. Sukuna told you that you wouldn’t receive any loyalty from the very beginning, therefore you’re not upset that he goes off with Kyoko when he pleases. As a matter of fact, you’re glad that he’s choosing to visit her tonight.

You try not to think about the situation, though it’s the only thing that pops up in your mind. He’s done what you’ve asked from him, he’s simply waiting on you now. He’s impatient, he won’t wait around on you forever. He’ll get tired of waiting soon, and you fear what will happen to you that day. 

“My queen.” You barely hear Hina coming into your room, so you’re startled when you hear her voice. She holds your tray of food, and you sigh at the sight. The food she makes is delicious each and every time, but you’re just not in the mood to eat tonight. Sukuna won’t let you rest if he knows you haven’t eaten; he wants the process to be as fast and as smooth as possible.

“Hina, do you also cook for Kyoko?” You question once she puts the tray of food down. She furrows her brows, trying to recall who Kyoko is. The name doesn’t ring a bell.

“I apologize, I don’t know who that is.” She responds, and it gives you a sense of satisfaction that the servant that tends to you goes nowhere near Kyoko. Though Hina is more of your personal servant than anything. 

Ever since the night she cooked for you, she’s been tasked with a lot more regarding you. She’s well studied, knowing how to read and write which made Sukuna force her to teach you. She keeps you company during your lonely afternoons, cheering you up while you wait for Sukuna to visit your room. You’re starting to see her as a friend, and the thought of Kyoko getting anywhere near her upsets you.

“Will you keep me company tonight?” You ask her, even though she doesn’t have much of an option. Your request is a command– Luckily for her, she doesn’t mind at all.

“Of course.” She answers with a subtle smile on her lips. She kneels before you, and waits for you to speak. She speaks when spoken to. She steals some glances your way, watching the way you eat the food that she made for you. You usually devour the meal, but it seems that tonight you’re eating with disgust. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to remake the meal?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite, my apologies.” You tell her, and she holds her breath. She hates to scold you but it’s her duty.

“You mustn’t apologize, my queen. King Sukuna would kill me if he were to hear your words.” She responds, and you’re about to mutter another apology due to your carelessness, but you hold back. You chuckle before giving her a slight nod. “What’s on your mind?”

“What makes a woman fall pregnant? Other than sex.” You ask her, and she’s taken back by your question. Her lips form into a straight line as she takes one good look at you. 

“Why would you like to know, my queen? You’re already expecting.” She says, and you furrow your brows. Hina has been by your side to see everything that’s been going on for the past couple of months, she knows that you’re not expecting. 

“Hina… This isn’t a joke.” You tell her, frankly a bit offended that she’s said what she said. She maintains the same serious expression, and you can’t make anything of it. “I’ve still been bleeding.”

“When my mother was pregnant, she bled. Granted, we had no idea but within seven months she had a healthy baby.” She answers. “It sometimes happens.”

“Babies come early.” You point out. Hina knows a lot, but you know your own body. If you were carrying a baby, you’d feel it.

“They do. But you’re also waking up nauseous, with tender breasts and you’re extremely fatigued throughout the day. I’ve been by your side enough to know.” She explains, and you chew on the inside of your cheek. Maybe you’re just sick, it doesn’t signify that you’re pregnant. “Plus you’ve been gaining some weight, it seems like a baby to me.”

“Let’s change the topic.” You end up saying, getting annoyed with her. She’s telling you what she’s noticed, yet you’re getting irritated with the mere suggestion that you’re expecting. You don’t want to get your hopes up in the case that you aren’t.

A week after Hina tells you that you’re expecting, you begin to feel all the symptoms that she mentioned but even worse than before. You think you’re just getting into your head, giving yourself false hope. You’re in your head a lot since Sukuna has stopped visiting you at night. He no longer asks for you to join him for dinner, and you can’t remember the last time you saw his face.

“Hina…” You begin, needing the opinion of someone else. She’s told you that you’ve been gaining weight, but you need her confirmation once again. 

“Yes, my queen?” Hina responds without wasting a second. She’s flashed by you, and she doesn’t even blink twice. It’s common for her to see you bare as she helps you get ready– Though being suddenly flashed is not usual.

“Am I gaining weight?” You ask her, and she nods in response.

“You are expecting.” She reaffirms you for the umpteenth time that week. It goes in one ear and out the other for you, and you’ll ask her in ten minutes once again. Hina walks over to you and tries to cover you with your robe, “Please cover yourself before someone walks inside.”

“Who’s going to dare–” You begin, cut off by the door to your room sliding open. Uraume walks inside, about to give an announcement but they take one good look at you. You’re thinking that they’re staring at you because you’re pretty much naked, and that’s only part of the issue. A subtle smile comes to Uraume’s lips.

“I shall tell him the news.” Uraume says, and you furrow your brows. What are they saying? Are they talking about the fact that you’re practically naked? It’s not anything crazy considering Hina is your servant and helps you with everything throughout the day.

“It’s not necessary.” You tell them, but they don’t listen to you and walk out of the room. It’s not a matter that requires Sukuna so why are they telling him this? Is Hina not supposed to see you bare? “What are they going to do?”

“Tell him the news that you’re expecting.” Hina fixes your robe, and you click your tongue. 

“How would they be able to tell? I don’t even have a bump, I’ve just gained some weight.” You say, and Hina lets out a chuckle. You still refuse to acknowledge it, but she can’t blame you. There isn’t a definite way for you to know. She just feels the energy the moment she steps anywhere near you, it’s too hard to ignore.

“We’ll see what King Sukuna says.” Hina tells you after she’s done dressing you up again. She’d make you more presentable, but she has a feeling that you won’t go out so there isn’t a need for it. She wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

Your body tenses up as you hear his loud footsteps approach the room. You feel as if you were a child about to get in trouble, even if you haven’t done anything wrong– Not to your knowledge at least. Hina bows down on the floor the moment Sukuna enters the room. You don’t give him the same honor, you don’t need to.

“Come here.” Sukuna doesn’t have to speak twice before you’re stepping towards him. You hold your breath when you’re before him, growing impatient as you wait for him to do something. A wicked smile forms on his face before he gleefully says, “It’s resonating.”

“What–” You begin as his hands go to your lower abdomen.

“He has a strong flow of cursed energy.” Sukuna points out, which leaves you confused. The statement isn’t meant for you though, you notice Uraume smiling before they bow down their head. “So much… It has to be twins.”

“Twins?!” You’re still denying the fact that you’re expecting, the mere suggestion that you’re expecting more than one baby is baffling. You try to take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “How do you even know I’m pregnant? It–”

“Do not question me, woman.” Sukuna can’t even properly yell at you, as a weird feeling consumes him… Satisfaction, it has to be. He’s finally getting what he wants. “How did I not notice?”

“You haven’t–” Uraume begins but Sukuna turns his head to glare at them. They bite their tongue as Sukuna looks back down at you.

“You have to eat properly. I’ll overlook your every meal.” Sukuna says, which is overwhelming to hear. Dinner with Sukuna was already an experience, so you aren’t necessarily excited to have him watch you eat every meal. 

“Is that necessary?” You ask him, and Hina is surprised by your bold words. Though she guesses you can say whatever you’d like when you’re expecting Sukuna’s child. “I mean so far I’m eating well and everything–”

“I will be accompanying you.” He hates when he has to repeat himself, but he guesses he has no other option. He’s not going to harm you in any way, at least not when you’re clearly pregnant. “Uraume make the announcement, and set people to watch her.”

“Watch me? Am I a child?” You question, and he can’t help but chuckle. You truly are clueless, he can’t help but be amused.

“Someone will try to harm you. You’re so pathetic that you can’t fend for yourself, so I’ll assign someone to watch you.” Sukuna answers, and just as the words leave his lips, an idea comes to mind. Would he like to have you by his side all day and every day? Absolutely not. Does he want to ensure that you’re safe and his son(s) are alright? Yes. In that way he’ll also have the pleasure to rub it in everyone’s face that he’s having an heir. “I retract my order. I’ll be watching her.”

“King Sukuna, that’s not the best decision–” Uraume begins, thinking about your well-being considering Sukuna’s life is something that you’re not ready to see. You’ve been shielded from it the past couple of months, but he’s even worse than the being that he presents himself to be.

“I’ve made my decision and that’s final. Who are you to question my order?!” He raises his voice, which is the most extreme reaction that he’d give Uraume. If they were anyone else, they would’ve taken their final breath. Sukuna rolls his eyes before speaking again, “You, on the floor, make her something to eat. And you, Uraume, get to work on my food.”

“Yes, my king.” They respond in unison before walking out of the room, leaving you alone with Sukuna.

You aren’t sure what to do once you’re alone with him. Whenever you’re alone with him you proceed to have sex, but it’s too early in the day for that to happen. You’re not sure if it’s going to happen again, not when you’re already expecting.

“You’ve proved to be useful.” Sukuna comments, extending one of his arms for you to take, so you can walk with him to the dining room. You’re hesitant to take it, but you end up doing what he wants you to since you don’t need him to raise his voice at you. Walking alongside him is an honor for anyone, and you’re the first to do it– Not because he sees you as an equal, but because you carry something that is.

“How do you know that I’m expecting?” You question, which goes unheard by him. It’s not for the same reasons as Hina since Sukuna isn’t by your side to know that your body has been changing. You recall his words from earlier, though they make little to no sense.

“What do you want?” Sukuna asks you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, looking up at him. “You must want a gift considering you’ve partially fulfilled your duty.”

“Oh…” You respond. Your gift was him helping your brother and aunt, which he already has done. But he’s offering something more, which you’ll gladly accept. You just have to think about what you want. “Can I see my family?”

“No. Anything else?” Sukuna answers, and you sigh. You shake your head, you don’t want anything else for the time being. “Jewelry is what your kind likes, no?”

“I guess.” 

“Then you’ll get jewelry.”

[achilles-rage]

NSFW Alphabet

word count: 2.0k

A/N: hi besties<333 this is my first time writing so pls don’t absolutely tear me to shreds (just a little bit is acceptable though). i’m planning on making a SFW alphabet for buck soon as well but some of the letters had me drawing a blank lol. also, although there’s not really much mention of it, this is with a plus size reader in mind. as a plus size girly myself, it sucks to read x reader stories and knowing in the back of your mind that it wasn’t written with your body type in mind (although there’s nothing wrong with writers that do that of course). i just thought i would add to the plus size reader community because there are barely any buck fics and i believe in my heart that he loves plus size women. anyway, enjoy <3

warnings: smut (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When y’all finish he’ll wait a few minutes before pulling out, head buried in your neck as his breathing gets back to normal. He’ll kiss your neck and tell you how good you were for him, before finally getting up to clean you up. After that he wants to lay with you and talk, just enjoying each other’s company, maybe y’all will make some food if you feel like it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: Probably his arms. He’s worked hard to be as fit as he is and he enjoys using his arms to move you/lift you while you’re having sex. He takes pride in his appearance, he knows he’s hot, but it’s an added bonus that he can lift you up and do whatever he (or you) wants.

Yours: I am of the firm belief that Evan Buckley is a thigh man. He loves how they feel in his hands, he loves how they look when you straddle him, he can’t get enough. He loves to see them jiggle when you move, or when he playfully smacks them. He loves thick thighs and I will die on this hill

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man has a BREEDING KINK OKAY!!! He loves to cum inside you, fucking deep into you and feeling his cum fill you up. He loves watching it slowly dripping out, so he can finger it back in. If that’s not your thing I think the next best place would be on your stomach, watching your face as he lets go, seeing the way he marks you up. He loves your little tummy, how it moves as he ruts into you, so he loves it when you let him cum all over it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I only call this a dirty secret because he would never tell anyone about this after the last time it happened and he got fired. He wants to fuck you in the fire engine SO BAD. He can’t help but think of the way you would look as he fucked into you quickly, trying not to get caught with your dress up around your waist. He knows it’s not gonna happen, he’d never hear the end of it from anyone in his life if it did, but god he wants to so bad.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Girl have we watched the same show?? This man FUCKS!!! We all know (and love) Buck 1.0, and we know he knows what to do. Buck 3.0 might mean him changing into, well, not a sex addict, but that doesn’t mean he forgot his training (🫡). I think he understands that every woman is different, and while he might not get it exactly right the first time, he’s a fast and eager learner, watching what exactly makes you squirm and moan the most for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Canonically, Buck LOVES when you ride him, and I agree. He loves to watch you move yourself on him, able to grab at your thighs, and your hips, and your chest. He also loves to move you on him, squeezing your hips tightly as he sets the pace if you start getting tired or if he just feels like it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I mean, he’s Buck, he’s truly a golden retriever of a man and cannot stay serious for long. I think he’s a bit of a mix, he can be serious in the moment, but at the end of the day, he’s still Buck, and Buck is silly goofy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it nicely trimmed, carpets match the drapes. In terms of his partner, he really doesn’t give a fuck. He’s seen it all and could not care less as long as he feels the way you wrap around him so perfectly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Buck 3.0 is a man of TASTE, but that being said, I think he only really pulls out the romance during special occasions. Most of the time this man wants to freak nasty, but sometimes when he’s tired, or just feels especially in cuddly/clingy, he’ll be more romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it pretty often, of course not when he has the option to fuck you instead (and you’re willing, of course), but if you’re not with him and he needs a quick release, he getting right to it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: I will scream this till the day that I die, this man wants a family more than anything. Whenever he’s inside of you, he can’t help but think about how pretty you’d look with your belly all round with his babies.

Praise: Look at this pathetic little guy, he needs to be praised, he thrives on it. He loves to hear how good he feels, how good he’s making you feel. This goes both ways. He’s in your ear immediately telling you how good you feel, how well you’re taking him, how pretty you look.

Spanking: HEAR ME OUT!! While I’m not sure he would actually bend you over his knee (but honestly the more I think about it he might) he would LOVE to give your ass a nice little swat as you’re riding him. He loves the sound it makes, and the sound you make because you’re not expecting it. I don’t think he’d ever do it hard enough to hurt too much, but I think enough to make your ass a little red would definitely be something he could get behind (lol).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn’t have a ring cutter in the kitchen for nothing<3

I think he likes to have sex at home the most, on the bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter. You name it, he wants to fuck you there. His favourite is the counter because he loves seeing you being so domestic in the kitchen. Making dinner, cleaning up, whatever, he wants you right then and there and cannot wait. He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses your neck before slowly turning you around to face him and lift you onto the counter to have his way with you.

While he’s moved on from having sex in public places that could (will) get him fired, he’s still into it, but in less obvious places. If y’all are in his car and you’re looking a little too good in his passenger seat, he loves an empty parking lot quickie. Front seat, back seat, whatever you want, he’d be pulling you onto him as soon as he puts the jeep in park.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Girl ANYTHING gets him going, it would take one look, one touch, one word and this man would be ready to go. I think what really gets him going though is seeing you with kids or getting along so well with the 118. This man truly just wants a silly little family and someone that can get along with the 118fam, so seeing you like that has him making up a stupid excuse to leave a little early so he can take you home and have his hands all over you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Like I said before, I don’t think he would do anything to hurt you too much, other than the occasional light spanking or biting. He would also not be into any kind of age play or pet play, he’s pro kink but it’s just not for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man is a giver and I stand by this. Dear god he loves nothing more than having you spread open for him, hands tangled in his hair as he makes himself at home between your thighs. He loves having his hands gripping your thick thighs, feeling them on either side of his head. When you start to get squirmy from the overstimulation he’ll place a large hand over your lower stomach, holding you still as he pushes you over the edge again.

With all that said, he will definitely not say no to getting head. He loves seeing you look up at him while you’re on your knees, trying to take all of him. He’ll keep a hand in your hair, pulling it softly every now and then, and he can’t help but moan and whine as he gets closer and closer, eventually cumming down your throat as he squeezes his eyes shut.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the day, but most of the time he likes it rough and fast. He loves a good quickie, meaning it kinda has to be more fast paced and rough, and he’s pretty easy to get riled up, so when you drop any sort of hint, he’s on you immediately and ready. On other days where he’s feeling extra clingy and lovey, he’ll be more of a slow and sensual guy, but I think for the most part he loves to fuck you deep and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Like I said, he loves a good quickie. A lot of the time he craves a quickie before work, needing to feel you before his long shift. I think they happen pretty often, but he’d much rather take his time with you, using his fingers and mouth before he fucks you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as there’s clear communication he’s down to try pretty much anything, he’ll do anything to make you happy (within reason). I think he’s also a risk taker (also within reason, he has to think about not getting fired again, of course). Buck 1.0 is still inside him somewhere when it comes to sex so he definitely loves a little risk, but he’s grown enough to know where the line is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

While he would love to go as many rounds as possible, I think it would realistically be 2-3, lasting about 10-15 minutes each round. I think he would be the type to like having some time between rounds, tension still high as you talk and lay around before he's back on you again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Once again, he doesn’t have a ring cutter in his kitchen for nothing<3

He likes them, he definitely owns a few toys of his own. Vibrators, cock rings, some handcuffs or restraints, he’s very open to anything that increases y’alls pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does it sometimes not really meaning to, like he does something and you’re like….dear god…and maybe he doesn’t notice the first time but the second time he does and WILL keep going until you snap. He loves the way you get all squirmy and whiny and desperate for him, knowing you want him as much as he wants you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So vocal!!!! Literally that meme thats like “y’all afraid to make noise in the bedroom?? i be in my girls ear like…” He loves dirty talk (on both ends) and he can’t help but let out low moans when you’re clenching around him. He also loves hearing your breathless whimpers, making him feel like he’s doing a good job, and encouraging him to pull more sounds from your lips.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he was in a relationship during the whole sperm donor thing, it would be the longest few weeks for both of y’all. I imagine the first time he has an appointment, you make sure you’re waiting for him in a cute little matching set, knowing how excited he was to finally be buried inside you again, hearing you whine as he fills you up. He’s so frustrated when his appointment doesn’t work out that he doesn’t let you know how it went, instead being unpleasantly surprised when he sees you sprawled out on his bed when you get home and unable to do anything about it. He wants nothing more than to rip your pretty little set off your body and run his hands up and down your soft curves, but he can’t, and it’s torture. You apologize (but he will hear none of it because it was a lovely surprise, just shitty circumstances), and instead you change into an oversized shirt and sweatpants to enjoy a completely normal (and not sexual at all) night on the couch.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8 inches, thick, no complaints <3

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH!!! This man is thinking about sex 24/7, and if he could, his hands would be on you at all times.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Most of the time I think he stays up for a while, just hanging out and talking to you. But if he comes home after a long shift he’s fucking GONE in 5 minutes tops.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[kmoneymartini]

Drunk in love.

paige x reader

Warnings: SMUTTTTTTT with some plot, fluff, cussing, alcohol, pet names? (If that is one) I think that's all

A/n- this is my first fic. If it's terrible I'm open to constructive criticism! Also I literally live for Paige being a soft switch so that's literally all it is. Also I gave up on the ending bc i didn't know how to write it.

You were sitting next to Paige at the bar everyone goes to after a win. You could tell Paige was getting drunk because she's was getting a little more....handsy.

Right now her hand was rubbing up and down your thigh under the table while she talks about the highlights of the game to the team. Her fingers glide from your hip to your knee, her thumb ever so slightly on the inside of your thigh.

You and Paige had been friends since 6th grade when the blonde almost knocked you out during gym with a basketball. Figures.

"shoot, are you okay?" Little paige said.

"Yea I'm good, just dizzy."

"yea let's get you to the nurse, may have just given you a concussion.." she replied with concern.

Ever since then, y'all have been inseparable. Spending most weekends at each others houses or at her tournaments. She taught you the game of basketball. (Which you later came to love) And you rambled about the books you just finished. You were basically sisters.

When highschool started, Paige convinced you to join the Hopkins basketball team. At first you were adamant on just showing up for games, but blondie would not shut up about it till you tried out.

The next 4 years were the best of your life. Spending time with the team, especially paige. Going the state championships, and just being able to have fun.

Nothing changed when you both got into Uconn, She continued basketball while you studied literature and womens studies. You were always around the team, they loved you and you were practically part of the team.

Which leads us back to the bar. KK and Aaliyah dancing to the music blasting through the building while the whole team laughed and videoed them. Paiges hand still lingering around your leg as she drinks her Shirley Temple she swears has no alcohol. (Bull. Shit.)

"Paige you may want to slow down, you'll be miserable tomorrow." You say as she chugs her 3rd one down.

"nah baby I'll be fine."

"baby" that word. The word she uses when shes drunk and talks to you. The one that makes your heart stop, the one that makes your stomach fill with butterflies. The one that makes you wet asf. God you were so gay for this girl.

A few hours pass, and sleepy Paige is half awake on your shoulder while everyone starts to say their goodbyes.

"hey, p?" You say in a whisper

"hm?"

"Ready to go home?"

"mhm"

Now, just because you don't play basketball anymore, doesn't mean you don't go to the gym. Your pretty strong, strong enough to hold the 5'11 guard to the car. You pick her up bridal and haul her ass to the car near the entrance.

When you get home you wake Paige up again and walk her to your shared second story dorm, opening it up and locking the door behind you. Paige is a little more perky now, you made her eat crackers while she was still awake on the way home.

"Paige you wanna get a shower or just get comfy?"

"I'm tired" she clings onto you like she always does, always making you turn red.

"okay sweet girl, let's get you ready for bed." You help her to the bathroom and brush the gel out of her hair.

"you think you can get dressed on your own?" You ask

"Mhm"

"okay, get dressed and go to sleep okay?" You start to walk towards the door before she stops you.

"no, stay please"

"What?"

"stay here, please?" She begs

"Okay, let me change first."

"no, just wear one of my shirts, don't want you to go" she says as she stumbles to her drawer, grabbing a shirt with her name and number on the back.

You take the shirt and go into her connected bathroom to change before walking out. You see Paige staring you you.

"you look hot in my number"

"excuse me?"

You watch her look you up and down with a look of pure lust, making you wet by just standing there.

She gets up and walks towards you. "You look hot." "Extremely hot." You feel her hands on your waist, the sudden confidence she had, mixed with the tired rasp in her voice turned you on instantly.

"Paige, your drunk. Let's not do anything you'll regret." You say, your voice shaking slightly.

"mmm, I'm gonna regret not doing anything."

With that, your pinned against the wall, the taller blonds lips connected with yours. God she feels amazing. Her hands travel up and down your sides while yours find her hair.

"fuck, p. Please" your breathe between kisses.

"please what ma?" She replies.

"wanna feel good"

That's all you had to say before she whips you both around to her bed, laying you down gently without breaking the kiss. Her lips find their way to your neck just as her knee finds a way to your core. Causing you to moan from the sensation.

"paige please, fuck." You whine.

"shh, I'm gonna make you feel good baby, don't worry."

She lifts up your shirt, revealing the white sports bra underneath, which is also quick to come off.

"so pretty for me. So pretty." She praises as on of her hands travel to your tit, her mouth connecting to the other. You moan and arch your back, trying to get more friction to your clit.

her hand finds your heat, realizing you don't have shorts on, she starts rubbing your clothed bundle of nerves. The moans and whimpers coming from you surprise her. They sound almost pornographic.

"there you go ma, so wet for me." She whispers into your ear sending signals throughout your body.

"Paige please, please, fuck. Please fuck me"

She groans hearing your pleas for her. "Lift your hips up, princess." She guides your underwear down your legs and throws them on the ground before slowly pushing a finger into you. Earning a moan from you and a groan from her.

"good girl. so tight for me. Taking me so well." She praises.

"Paige more please. Please, need more"

She adds another finger, immediately curling them into your g-spot.

"Fuck baby please" the bubble in your stomach getting tighter and tighter as she moves her fingers.

"taking me so well pretty girl, so so good."

Paige feels you coming closer to the edge, so she dips her tongue into you, moving it with her fingers. A pornographic moan comes from your mouth as you tense up and shudder, cuming all over her fingers. She wastes no time cleaning up and helping you ride out your high.

"taste so good my gorgeous girl, so good."

After catching your breath with sweet kisses from Paige you lift yourself up on your elbows.

"wanna make you feel good paigey" you breathe out. "Please"

You sit up and kiss her, tasting yourself mixed with the alcohol on her lips.

"okay my love" she says, taking her shirt and bra off as well as her boxers.

You watch in awe, she beautiful. Her hair, her arms, her toned abs, god she's so pretty. You keep looking down until you see her soaking cunt.

"your beautiful" your say, still amazed.

You make your way to her clit. Floating your fingers and touching on the sensitive area lightly, making Paige squirm and whimper.

"please" she says, watching your every move.

You come up from her heat and kiss her lips, then her jaw, her neck, leaving a few hickeys and down her chest. Sucking slightly on her nipple and swiping over the other, hear her low moans.

"baby please please." She begs.

Hearing her become so vulnerable under your touch after giving you the best orgasm of your life gives you a confidence boost as you start bringing your hand down to her heat, sweeping your finger up and down her fold.

"doing good paige. So good." You whisper, finally dipping your finger into her, earning a gasp and moan from her mouth.

Realizing one finger would never get her to the edge, you add another, going faster and curling into the spot that makes her moan loudest.

"Fuck ma, please." She breathes

"I got you Paige, taking it so well."

You replace your fingers with your tongue. Dipping it into her heat as you suck at it, your nose hitting the bundle of nerves above her entrance.

She grips the shears, wrapping her legs around your head as you go deeper into her. Feeling her start to shake, you keep your pace, adding more pressure. You hear her get louder and finally scream from pleasure as she reaches her high.

You lick her clean before making contact with her lips again.

"so good baby, you did so well."

As both of you catch your breath, she wraps up into your arms and you fall asleep stroking her hair.

"god I fucked up."

~-TIME SKIP-~

In the morning, you wake up and realize what happened. Fuck. You end up carefully pulling yourself from the blondes tight embrace and start to gather and put on your clothes, but not before she wakes up.

"hey, what are you doing?" She asks groggly

"Paige I'm so sorry." You reply with watery eyes. Your scared for your friendship. You let your feelings take over. She was drunk and probably didn't feel the same.

"hey hey, ma come here" she says in a comforting tone.

You walk over to the bed with the naked guard wrapped up in blankets. She watches you sit down and look at her.

"I know I was drunk. But I wanted that. Don't feel like it was just a drunk hookup, at least for me? I feel like there's more to it." She explains, wiping a tear that fell to your cheekbone.

"really?"

"Definitely" she pulls you into her lap. Hugging you for a while before speaking again. "I want you to be my girlfriend"

"Paige what?" You pull away surprised

"be my girlfriend. I can't just live with you as my friend. I want you."

You think, not for long that is.

"why not" you peck her lips.

"fucking finally" she sighs, burying her face into your neck, leaving a small kiss there.

like I said, this was my first fic. I'm hoping y'all like it and thank you for reading till the end. I tried not using y/n because I thought it would be challenging so that happened.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Threefold cord (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon’s wife is presumed dead. But is she?

A/N: Blue beard, to finish my Halloween celebration because I cannot write on schedule. Also @just-some-random-blogger look! The fic I told you about.

Warnings: Hightower!reader x Daemon. Smut. Alicent, Gwayne and reader as siblings. Death of Rhea Royce. Happy ending!

“ARE YOU TRULY about to wed him?” You set your teacup down on its saucer. When your father had summoned you to the capital, you had known it was important news. But Alicent becoming a Queen? It surpassed everything you had imagined.

Your father wanted to make sure you were there to witness her triumph. Alicent lacked allies in court, beyond the Princess. And that relationship would sour as soon as the other girl heard just who her father was to wed.

Alicent was too naive to see it. Or purposefully blind. She claimed to not know what she had been doing when visiting the King, too. You guessed the thought made it easier to bear for her.

You didn’t blame her. King Viserys was old and beginning to show signs of being sickly. The thought of offering yourself to such a man, twice your age, on your father’s orders, wasn’t pleasant. You would rather pretend you were just being kind.

“It is for the best. Father says that he…” Alicent begins justifying her actions, and you tune out. You know it will just be a repetition of your father’s lectures. Duty. Bearing children. Women knowing their place.

You pitied her, for believing in his bullshit. It wasn’t as if either of you could escape your fate, but you at least tried not to lower yourself into thinking you were a lesser, gentler being, made to be bred. Instead, you enjoyed thinking you were a person. Just as human as any man, just as smart, just as strong. Only one trapped by your status as a noblewoman.

You sip at your tea. You are cautious not to make a sound when doing so, and not take too big of a sip. Anyone who gazes at your courtly smile and comely manners would not guess your innermost thoughts.

Alicent continues her tirade, describing animatedly how much she wants to do her duty and birth children. How she knows her body will not fail her as it did for the late Queen. She has an unfortunate thirst for proving herself, your eldest sister.

“And King Viserys asked me about you, the other day. He would like for you to marry Prince Daemon…”

The tea you are drinking goes down the wrong way. You start coughing, and have to hurriedly set down your teacup as to not burn yourself.

“Excuse me?” You say, once the coughing fit subsides a bit, and you are able to wipe your mouth with a napkin. “I will… What? Does father know of this?”

She looks at you, concerned, but says nothing about it. She pours herself another cup of tea.

“Prince Daemon’s wife has been missing for a while. They think she might have…” Alicent leans in, voice lowering. You are in the Tower of the Hand, surrounded by men loyal to your father, and yet she feels she cannot say it freely. You wonder what has Lady Royce done to scandalize her such. “Ran away. With a lover.”

“You prude!” You laugh. You had thought it much worse. “She wouldn’t be the first woman to do so, don’t be nai…”

“A female one.” Alicent interrupts, setting down her own teacup. The movement is a bit harsh, making the porcelain screech.

You open and close your mouth. You had not known that was even a possibility.

“How does one..?”

“Be as it may…” She raises a hand, halting you. “Father says you shall marry him, if he finds you agreeable.”

There was not much you knew about politics, but you were pretty sure the Prince despised your father and your house by extension. You doubted he would find you agreeable. Your father would doubt it too, but he was too blinded by the hope of getting Runestone.

Lady Royce had no heir. Her castle had gone to Daemon, the King needing little convincing to award it to his beloved brother. Imagining all that bronze in your hands, in House Hightower’s hands, would have him salivating. At getting his enemy away from court? That was only an unexpected bonus. If the man liked you and decided he wanted to play Come-into-my-castle with you, you were sure your father would dance a gig.

You wouldn’t. If it did happen… You shuddered, thinking of the man with the lecherous grin, always whoring. Twice your age, and crass as they came. The only times you had crossed paths, he had been busy ogling Alicent or his niece.

“I am not marrying him.”

Alicent frowns at you. Her eyes turn sad. When she gets contradicted, she looks much like a kicked puppy.

“I have never met him.” You explain, feeling guilty over upsetting her. She is just so much like your father, sometimes. It angers you, even when you know it is not her fault. She doesn’t have the same anger in her veins as you do. All she ever wanted was to please your father.

“He is looking for a wife, and King Viserys thinks it would be marvelous if you married him. I have told him all about you.” Alicent sounds excited about the whole thing, and just… No. You do not want to marry a man twice your age. Gross. Her tone turns softer. “I think it would be nice. To belong to the same House even after marriage. To be never parted from my sister.”

The want in her expression makes you soften. It is not often that Alicent admits to desiring anything, and you do not wish to discourage her.

“I’ll meet him.” You decide. “Just that.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

And the Seven bless her, she actually seems delighted to hear it.

THE WEDDING IS awfully dull. The Septon drones on and on about the Mother and the Father, and the duties of marriage. Alicent looks stunning in her silk gown, beautiful but modest. It is no use. People already speak of what she has done to trap the King into marriage.

Princess Rhaenyra keeps sending her glares during the feast. Sometimes in anger, sometimes in hurt. She is not quite sure what to feel. You can tell from the way she pauses when looking at Alicent. You pity her too.

Losing a mother is a terrible thing. You can only imagine how much it hurts to see her replaced by a girl your own age.

The Princess is a woman who has everything and yet, it's still a woman. No power to stop her father from bedding her best friend, no power to change anything at all. The realization of her powerlessness is clear in her features.

In contrast, you doubt you have ever seen your father this happy. Ever. He is alight with pride. As if throwing his daughter to an old man is some great accomplishment. He has spared no expense on this wedding, the ceremony and feast lavish in a way that feels almost tasteless.

The pomp and luxuries have you feeling morose. You sip at your hippocras, tucked into a corner of the high table, and try to pretend you are invisible. Gwayne has left you far too soon, off to dance with some ladies.

He has always been the courteous sort, just like you. You enjoy watching him charm the ladies, and enjoy more the fact that he hasn’t tried to drag you to the dance floor.

For that, you are grateful. Some ladies are lively and dance as if gliding through water. You do not. Dancing had not been on the list of abilities you had acquired during your etiquette lessons.

It had always felt like peacocking to you. Showing yourself to others, showing how pretty you smiled, how graceful you were. The attention it brought made you uncomfortable. You much preferred blending in.

“Strange choice of drink you have there.” Prince Daemon says, sitting across from you. “Even stranger that you are still sitting at your sister's wedding.”

“I could say the same.” You reply, colder than you planned to. The hippocras is hitting you already, making your temper shorter. You have little interest in Daemon Targaryen.

There is a secret plan in your head. When you reach thirty, you will claim a sudden awakening of Faith and retire to the comforts of life as a Septa. You have done enough charity to know that Septas don’t do as much as they like people to think. The only thing you will miss will be the alcohol.

“Ah, but I am just sitting now.” He idly reaches for the carafe of hippocras you are monopolizing, and serves himself a goblet. “Is this any good?”

“At least it’s not dornish swill.” Dornish wine has to be the worst thing you have ever tasted, not even fit for pigs. Bitter and watery, the mere thought annoys you.

Prince Daemon barks out a laughter.

“Good Gods, where was Otto hiding you?”

“Probably in the same place as your decency.”

“Thread carefully.” Daemon’s expression turns far colder. His hand tightens around the stem of his goblet. “I might like your cheek, but I am still a prince of the realm.”

“One soon to be displaced.” You toast. A bit of hippocras spills from your goblet. You are far too drunk to care about his thoughts. “Be it by my nephews or your niece.”

His face reddens.

“Bitch.” He spits the word from clenched teeth. You laugh loudly.

“Knave.”

“You are an insolent little thing, aren’t you?” Daemon snarls, leaning over the table as if to throttle you. Drunk as you are, you don’t feel any fear. You have just enough rational thoughts left to believe you will be alright, since even the darkened corner you have chosen to sit in is too public for him to murder you without repercussions.

“I am small but fierce.”

“I can see that. Do all Hightower cunts have teeth?”

You smile at him, lazy and warm from the drinks you have had.

“I don’t know, care to find out?”

And Daemon laughs. He asks you to dance instead. As he twirls you and dips you, you come to find he is not bad company after all. And if you laugh a tad more than necessary, and accept his offer to walk the gardens the next afternoon, no one can blame you.

“IT IS BUT a couple of days.” Daemon says to you, softly. You lay on your stomach, head propped up on your arms. You twist your head just so to force him to see your sad little pout.

His hand comes to rub at your shoulders, as if you were a spooked horse he is trying to soothe. His touch is warm and calming against your bare skin.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

He has soothed you into complacency, this husband of yours. He allows you to indulge in fine wines, and be as frivolous as you wish. The only thing he asks of you is that you are warm and willing when he is. It is no chore.

Long gone is your rage. Now, you exist in a perfect bubble, where no one constricts your freedom. There is no screeching father to tell you that you are a disaster, nor is there a horrified Alicent. Instead, Daemon encourages all your eccentricities, and teaches you some new ones.

“Will you?” You roll on your side, stretching. You have done nothing today, not even dress. Daemon and you have spent the whole morning tangled in each other, warm and naked.

He smiles. That same grin that had once seemed so lecherous to you, now looks inviting.

You bite your lower lip, already anticipating what is to come.

“Minx.” Daemon laughs, before leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. The contact of his lips against your skin makes you shiver, a delicate sigh leaving you. “You won’t even notice I am gone.”

“Of course I will.” You whine, as he kisses a path down your spine. “Who will bring me such pleasure?”

A sudden, sharp pain on your arse makes you yelp and sit up. Daemon smirks, and feigns taking another bite out of you.

“You are so spoiled.” He laughs. “Cannot take even a little pain. I’ll leave you some coin, and you can invite your sister to keep you company. How does it sound?”

“Think the King can spare his Queen?” You have not seen your sister since your wedding. The ravens fly fast enough that you know the news already, but you doubt King Viserys will allow her to be out of his sight for long. Not when pregnant.

Daemon nips at your thigh. You jerk, but he coaxes you back into laying on your stomach.

“Before she gets too round to travel, yes. In a few moons, it will have to be us making the trip.”

“Gods, I hate babes.”

“So do I.” He rubs at your inner thigh, slowly prying your legs open. “So? Is my spoiled wife happy?”

“Very.” You rub your face in the pillow, all kittenish. You like being called his. “Do I get the keys of the castle, too?”

Daemon kisses the place where your thigh meets your arse. You can feel his smile against your skin, promising sin.

“Of course. Just don’t go into the room with the red door, alright? I forbid it.”

“You do?” You challenge, thinking it part of the game. So far, you have yet to explore all of Runestone, always too entertained by him to do so. There are a few rooms he is cagey about, but you have always blamed it on Daemon being very private and needing his space. He has never allowed you into his personal library, either. Says you would ruin the books.

You have never minded it. You understand your place here, the dumb young wife. Men never like thinking the woman they are with can be more interesting than them. To think you can also have an interest in books, apart from being frivolous, would be too much for him to handle.

The warning about the red door only registers to you as part of the games you usually play in the bedroom. Something he can punish you about later on, something that might excuse a round of rough lovemaking.

But his expression turns into a frightening mask of utter rage. He pinches you in the thigh, and this time, it really hurts.

“Fuck!” You cry out, fighting his hold. His grip has turned from the sweetest chains into unforgiving iron around your hips. You cannot move. Not even as he slaps your thigh, hard enough to make your eyes water. “Daemon, what the..?”

“I mean it.” He is cruel about it, slapping again the stinging flesh. “I do not want you in there. If you disobey, I’ll know.”

You stare at him, open-mouthed, You cannot comprehend how fast he has flipped, from kind lover to whatever this is. The rogue Prince is mercurial, you think, echoing the letter your father had once written complaining about him, his moods dangerous.

“Fine!” You cry out, desperate to evict this creature that has taken sudden hold of your husband’s body. “Fine! No opening the red door.”

Daemon softens then. His shoulders slump, and his face goes back into a mask of devotion.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your thigh, to the place he slapped. You tense. “It is dangerous for you. Like the Moondoor in The Eyrie.”

Yet, as his touch turns back into loving, you do not forget. There is something about what lies beyond that red door that turns him into a monster. A creature capable of hurting even you.

You intend to find out what it is.

THE FORTNIGHT SPENT with Alicent is by far, the best of your life. Runestone is grand, with intricate tapestries and artwork decorating the walls. Your sister has always loved art, and the time spent surrounded by beautiful things seems to rejuvenate her.

Her pregnancy appears to be easy and without fuzz. There is no nausea preventing her from having as many lemon cakes as you two wish, or from exploring the Vale’s markets, trying on dresses and tasting expensive food.

The money Daemon has left you is enough to fund your shopping sprees. You have so much fun, running in the halls and trying on dresses, it feels as if you are little girls again. The only thing missing from your childhood is Gwayne.

So you send for him.

Despite how much joy your time spent with your sister brings you, you cannot shake the thought about the red door.

It is situated in one of the towers, near the place where Daemon keeps his books. You pass by it daily, for Alicent’s rooms have been placed in the same tower. Housing a Queen is no easy task, much less when she carries the heir to the Iron Throne inside her. She had come with servants and guards, who had to be housed too. There was no space but that tower.

That tower. Each time you pass it, you have to clench your fists hard to stop yourself from reaching towards it. Every time you open a door, your hands linger on the only key you will never use.

What lies behind the red door? What can possibly upset your husband such and change him from a careless hedonist into a violent man?

When no one is near, you kneel by the door and try to look through the keyhole. The lock on the door is old and smells faintly of iron. The only thing you can see looking through the keyhole is rust.

Trying to look under the door gives you the same results. Rust and iron, and a nagging curiosity that will not leave you alone.

You try to forget about it. You owe obedience to your husband, and you remember all too well the tale of the woman who owned a jar that should never be opened. It had been a favorite of your father during your youth.

A wife must never pry. For she might find something she doesn’t like.

Yet, when you think of Daemon grabbing you hard enough to bruise, you realize you already have found something you do not like. It is that thought what helps you make up your mind. One afternoon, when Alicent claims to be too tired to keep you company, you decide to open the door.

Your hands are slick with sweat, and shaking so much it takes you two tries to fit the key into the keyhole. Your heart feels like it will leap out of your chest. Suddenly, you are paralyzed.

You cannot turn the key. Your hands have gone rigid. Your fear overwhelms you. What could possibly be in here, if not a terrible secret?

You turn it. The lock clicks, and the door gives with an ominous creak. You step inside, as careful as you can. The floor is slick and sticky. When you look down, your shoes and the hem of your gown are tinted red.

You scream. You turn towards the walls, only to find more blood. Bloodied rags, stains, a bloodied dagger. You begin to feel lightheaded. When you stumble towards a corner, you see her.

A corpse of a woman, hugging her knees to her chest. Her body is rotting, half of her face gone, but enough of it remaining so you can see that it has frozen in an expression of utter horror, much like your own. She wears a rune covered armor, and has several cuts all over.

This time, you fall down. The keys slip from your grip, and you scream so loud, you are sure you wake the whole castle.

The missing Rhea Royce.

“Good gods!” Alicent cries out, behind you. You stumble to your feet, terrified. She cannot see it. Daemon… Daemon was going to kill you both. “What is this? By the Seven, is that..?”

“He is going to kill me.” You say, wiping the blood clinging to your hands on your dress. You try to clean the keys as well, but the stain won’t come out. No matter how hard you try. “He’ll know.”

“He is not going to, we can go to the King, and I am sure there is…” Alicent sounds horrified. She lingers on the doorstep, already on her nightshirt. Her belly is barely beginning to show.

“Alicent!” You say, sharply. “He’ll know. You have to run, Alicent. He will kill us both.”

“And leave you to die?” Your sister sounds indignant. “I cannot. You cannot…”

You cannot run, you wish to say. You cannot because if you do, Daemon will know even quicker, and chase you both. If you stay, maybe you can fool him. Or at least, give your sister a fighting chance.

“Please!” You cry. “Do it for the babe.”

Alicent’s lips turn white from the force she uses to keep them closed. She looks into your eyes, and hesitates. You fear she might not go through it.

“Go!” You cry, slipping on all the blood.

And Alicent, big brown eyes wide, hikes up her skirts and runs.

DAEMON NOTICES AS soon as he asks for the keys. You have never been a good liar, and the blood still stains them. When handing them over, you shake.

His smile drops. He no longer is the happy husband, but the creature that had frightened you the other night. The creature that had killed Rhea Royce, and took her lands.

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” He grabs you by the neck, snarling.“I told you to leave it alone.”

Your pulse begins to race. You cannot speak, and you can only take shallow breaths. Your panic must show on your face because Daemon smiles at you, coldly. He squeezes a tad harder, enough to cut off your breath.

You gasp. It comes out more like a choked hiccup.

“Look at what you are making me do.” When you are starting to feel lightheaded, breath coming out in desperate wheezes, Daemon gives you a shove. “I never wanted to do this. This is all your fault.”

“You don’t have to kill me.” You plead, voice shaking. “I’ll keep your secret.”

Daemon looks at you, and laughs.

“I assure you, I have not gotten away with it this long because I believe every pretty thing telling me they will keep their mouths shut.”

Your eyes widen. The phrasing is strange. Every pretty thing…

“There had been others?” Daemon scoffs at your question, but doesn’t answer. You look into his eyes, and try pleading once more. At this point, tears are streaming down your cheeks. You are sure you make a very pathetic sight. “Just… Don’t kill me.”

“Good Gods. Are all Hightowers this dumb or is it you and Aliwhore?” Daemon grasps your face, roughly. You cannot believe your ears. Where is all this hatred coming from? It seems like the man you loved, the one that had courted you for endless summer days, is gone. All that is left is his profound hatred for you and your family. Had he only pretended not to hate you, and was showing his true colors now? “At least die with some dignity, you pathetic cunt.”

Dignity. Dignity could buy you time. You need it, to think of a way to survive.

“Allow me to pray, then. To make my peace with my death.”

Prayer wasn’t your strong forte. But you guessed you could possibly buy an hour with it. You had never been as devout as your siblings, but you could pretend well enough to fill the time as you tried to make your own miracle happen.

Daemon studies your expression closely. He tilts your head up and down, and then gives you a patronizing little pat on the cheek.

“Fine.” He spits out. “Pray. Only a few minutes, not a second more.”

You walk past him, intent on going back to the tower where a statue of the Mother stands. You watch his face carefully when you pass by him, worried he is only toying with you and has no true intention of allowing you to pray in solitude. But he doesn’t stop you.

You make your way to the highest tower, kneel by the feet of the statue and weep. Your weakness only lasts you a moment because when you lift your gaze, you catch sight of a green standard approaching the gates.

Could that be..?

“Are you done?” Daemon asks, from behind the closed door. You can hear the drag of steel against steel, and picture him in your mind’s eye. Taking Dark Sister out of her sheath, face full of bloodlust.

“Just a minute more.” You beg, watching the rider stop at the gates and being allowed in by the guards. “Don’t kill me, please! Not yet!” You cry out, as loud as you can, hoping your voice carries.

Daemon bursts in, Dark Sister held by his side. His smile is cold, his face the image of calm. One would never guess he is about to kill someone by watching his expression. You notice the dagger he carries at his hip, but do not dare to try to take it. Not when Dark Sister’s reach is much longer.

“Oh, spare me the hysterics. More prayer will not spare you.” He lunges at you, and you evade him, but there are only so many places one can run to in a small room. Daemon catches you by wrapping your braid in his hand, giving you a harsh tug that makes you tumble down. You scream.

“Shut up. Seven Hells, quiet.” Daemon places the sword at your throat. “You will…”

The door is thrown open by a kick, the loud bang startling him and making his grip falter.

“She will do nothing.” Gwayne says, firmly. You can see Alicent standing behind him, wrenching her hands together. You have never been more grateful to see them. “Or I’ll gut you like a fish.”

“Oh?” Daemon shoves you. You do not fight his push, laying limply on the floor. He turns towards Gwayne, sword no longer focused on you. “You think you can beat me, boy?”

Gwayne cannot. He had lost to him in a tourney not even six months before. You do not hesitate. You grab the dagger at Daemon’s hip and stab him in the stomach, hard. And you do it again, and again, until your hands and face are covered in blood, and Daemon does no longer move.

You look up at your siblings, then. Alicent’s face is horrified, but when she senses your eyes on her, she smooths down her expression. Gwayne watches with vague interest. At some point, he seems to have taken Dark Sister from Daemon’s hand because he now holds it.

The three of you stare at each other. The blood on your hands is rapidly cooling and turning sticky. You wipe your hands on your dress.

You had thought you would feel something if you killed another person. Instead, you only feel numb. Empty. Daemon is gone, and so are his things. His kisses, his threats, the monster that lurked beneath.

It’s Alcent who first speaks, face pale. “The red room. We need to get to work.”

By the end of it, it is as if he never came home at all. The three of you hug, on the brink of tears. Another string tied you now, beyond the sibling bond. The man you had murdered, and the duty to forget him.

[ramonathinks]

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓…. — drabbles, blurbs, one shots all dedicated to my one and only [18+ only] and thank you to my bae, sexy lexi ( @sugugasm ) for making this 😚 artwork is by @/karla_drawanime on insta! no minors, blank accounts or ageless blogs

guide -> 🍨— drabbles | 🧁 — one shots | 🍧 — longer fics | 🪷 — fluff | 🍦 — angst | 🍰 — smut

𝓶𝓸𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓼 — ahem, yall know how i feel about him 💔, yall know his death killed me several times over. so please don’t rush me on this, plus i am also in school and graduating this year so yeah✋🏾 but a lot of these are already started just not finished. some of the longerrr ones might be removed bc ramona is lazy @karla_drawanime

click here to join the taglist!

꒰ 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓰𝓸 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷 ꒱— “satoru, you’re way too pretty to be a boxer.” you know it and he knows it too, so why must he continue? | cw: sex, etc boxer gojo x reader (nurse in training) 🧁🍦🍰

꒰ 𝓶𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻꒱ — male model gojo x makeup artist reader; that’s it, that’s the plot. | cw: banter, make outs and handjobs. 🍨🍰

꒰ 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓭 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻꒱ — one night stand results in a baby and when a member of the gojo clan spots you, she kidnaps your daughter. now you need to call your baby’s father, who doesn’t know he has a child. | cw: one night stand, accidentally pregnancy, angsty 🧁🍦

꒰ 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴꒱ — you’re a professor and satoru gojo is your student, you definitely shouldn’t be fucking him. | prof!reader x camboy!gojo 🧁🍰

꒰ 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 ꒱ — he’s a professional swimmer and you’re just a water girl | cw 🧁🍰

꒰ 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓼 & 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓼 ꒱— she’s broken a million hearts before and now he declares that he wants her to ruin his life as well 🧁

꒰ 𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓾 𝓰𝓸𝓳𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓮꒱— after dating three girls at once, they decide to get revenge using a secret weapon: you 🧁🍰

꒰𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬꒱ — gojo uses magic to score a date with you. 🍨🪷

꒰𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓲𝓭𝓷’𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭, 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮, 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭꒱ -- you talk to yuuji about gojo. | cw slight angst, jjk spoilers, coping, therapy 🍦🍨

꒰𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼꒱ — “satoru, quick question… why is tumblr downloaded on your phone?” or you find out your guy best friend writes fanfiction. | cw 🧁🍰

꒰𝓫𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓶꒱ — when gojo finds out that some women doesn’t orgasm from sex, he goes on a conquest to ask the previous girls he fucked — only he gets no replies, until you. | cw 🧁🍰

꒰𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓼꒱— gojo sees you tie a cherry knot with your tongue and dies a little inside. | cw making out 🍨

꒰𝔀𝓮𝓽꒱ — the fraternity is holding a wet tshirt contest, only it’s the guys who’s shirts are wet. | cw 🍨

꒰𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓬𝓴꒱ — gojo’s a popstar and you hate him, but now after meeting him you can finally see the appeal. | cw

꒰𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 (ft. nanami)꒱ — yes, it’s true: two believed to be dead sorcerers faked their deaths to be with their favorite girl, who’s in malaysia. | cw 🧁🍰

꒰𝓶𝓻𝓼. 𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓻꒱ — gojo is speeding and does what he does best to avoid messing up his perfect driving record. | cw oral 🍨🍰

꒰𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 ꒱-- after showing your friends a few text messages you received from an ai bot, you think they’d finally get off of your case of being the “lonely” friend but instead, they wish to meet him. and behold, he’s there in the flesh? 🍰🧁

꒰ 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 ꒱— dared to steal the boxers of the hottest guy on campus seems easy enough, until you find out it’s gojo satoru aka your brother’s best friend. | cw sex

꒰𝓰𝓸𝓭, 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓸𝓾𝓽꒱ -- (rivals to lovers) You’re a hard worker, always have been. You don’t deserve to be paired with the slacker that is Satoru Gojo, who thinks his good looks fame and charm will get him everywhere in life. Paired together in Fashion&Design to create a catalog of the best designs for an extravagant event by the end of their semester, You and Gojo must put aside their petty differences and come together to not only pass the class with high marks but also to get an internship working with two of the top design companies, this of course means nothing to Gojo but everything to you, will you be able to work together with him despite his attitude and get underneath that wannabe slacker exterior to undercover that there’s more there than meets the eye? Or will Gojo leave her on her toes until the end of the semester by forcing her to take on more than she can chew? | cw rivals to lovers, sexual tension, banter, slight angst, harsh family dynamics, eventual sex, making out, kissing, etc. 🍰🍧

꒰𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻 𝓘 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂꒱ — awkward, that was the way you were always described. but now freshly 19 and with a body to die for, you’re excited to finally go to your family’s old beach house to unwind for break. until you find out your sister brought her two idiotic best friends. (reader is shoko's step-sister!) 🍰🍧

꒰𝓹𝓾𝓼𝓱 2 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽 ꒱ — you promise gojo if he wins this race, you'll finally let him fuck. | cw: tba🧁🍰

꒰𝓬𝓪𝓷’𝓽 𝓽𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻꒱ — she’s a mean girl, he’s a nerd… is there really more to say? [based off: “you wanna do it?” “do what?” “fuck” tiktok audio] 🧁🍰

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hello, i have noticed the lack of love for my girls, Charlie and Vaggie, could you do a Charlie x Reader x Vaggie? OT3?

Love Triangle? No, Love Circle.

Chaggie x GN!Reader

A/N: Before anyone jumps down my esophagus to yell at me about the character’s sexuality. I know Vaggie’s canonically a lesbian and Charlie is bisexual, I know. Don’t send hate or anything cause I will delete that shit, I don’t have time for it. Alright with that out of the way. LET'S JUMP IN!! I also made headcanons- If you want a fic I will definitely write one, I just kinda dumped my brain on this.

TW: A little nsfw at the end I’m sorry (not really I need more)

-🎀 First off let me say, these girls love you in every way imaginable but they show it in different ways. Charlie shows it by hugs and kisses between work to constantly profess her love to you and Vaggie so all of hell could listen. Vaggie shows her love in more simple acts like getting you food or dragging you away from work if she sees you working too hard. 

-👑 Both women are very very protective of you as well, now that’s not say they won’t go overboard if you get caught in the line of fire from the random villain of the day. Both have different ways of trying to get you out of trouble but will immediately come to your defense if they dare try to lay a hand on you. Charlie tries to get the situation to settle down while Vaggie locates every exit there to get you out as fast as she can if it goes south.

-🎀 Don’t get me started on if you surprise them both with a date, day off or just a simple random kiss. Both of them get extremely flustered when this happens, it’s amazing to see it happen. Don’t worry though both ladies will get you back in some fashion just keep an eye out.

Going off of the kiss idea? You gotta know when to strike to really catch one or both off guard. Charlie is by far the easiest to catch off guard, she’s just so busy and her mind is everywhere all at once it gets too much sometimes so you walking up to her and bringing her into a gentle but sweet kiss gets all the stress out. Of course she’s gonna let out a soft squeak and get all blushy but she almost always melts into the kiss immediately. This is just a headcanon of mine but she definitely stims by tapping her hooves on the ground to show how happy or excited she is. (GIVE ME MORE GOAT LIKE CHARLIE CONTENT PLEASE)

Vaggie is somewhat harder to surprise, she’s trained to immediately notice when someone is trying to sneak up on her or when something is out of place. She can’t help it and sometimes she wishes she didn’t really have to be this extra vigilant, but to really surprise her and get her flustered. Don’t be sneaky at all cause once again she will immediately and unapologetically point it out. So your best bet? Just walk up to her and kiss her cheek or on her lips. She won’t see it coming at all, she’ll get all red in the face and flustered beyond belief that her wings might just pop out.

-👑 Now if you work at the hotel with them Charlie will most likely try to help lighten your workload (please tell her your okay, baby stresses enough as is). Vaggie will help in some way or form whilst making sure Charlie isn’t overworking herself. Oh you need more paper? Don’t worry she’s running to get more. Something or someone is getting on your nerves? She’s pulling you away to do something else or she’s scaring the other person away.

-🎀 If you don’t work at the hotel and you keep coming back stressed as ever? Don’t worry your pretty little head, they will pamper you all night and the next morning? Your boss is suddenly giving you a pay raise AND the next four weeks off. 

-👑 If you are an early bird that tends to wake up at or a little after the crack of dawn? Good luck getting out of bed. Charlie is a cuddler and will not let you out so easily, Vaggie in my mind is a light sleeper so she wakes up to give you a gentle kiss before immediately falling back asleep head on Charlie’s chest. Double the points if you cook them breakfast when they wake up, you won’t escape their barrage of kisses.

-🎀 They both will allow you to steal some of their clothes and will steal your clothes in return. It’s a win-win situation. 

Charlie is canonically tall, like 6 foot something now- if you're taller than her she is wearing any hoodies or sweatpants of yours there is no discussion here. It will happen. But if you are shorter than her which is most likely she will happily let you and Vaggie steal her sweatshirts/hoodie/jackets.

Vaggie on the other hand is short like 5’5 (me too girl wtf-) or 5’7 so if you're taller than her? She’s stealing your clothes too but she’s much sneakier than Charlie. But if you're shorter or the same height as her she’ll allow you to steal her clothes as well but please don’t keep them for a week straight. She has a routine of doing all three of your guys' laundry and she doesn’t want to miss cleaning certain clothes you and Charlie steal.

-👑omg let me tell you- these girls love to pamper the shit out of you but if you return it? They will fall more in love with you. Massaging Vaggie’s back after a rough day or maybe helping her preen her wings. Washing Charlie’s hair or maybe rubbing where her horns are at as she lays between your legs and rants about whatever had her upset that day or if we are going down the path where Charlie has more goat like features (pls someone- I want to talk about this) just helping trimming her hooves. Girl needs to be extra pampered with her lovers after the shit she has to put up with day to day.

A little nsfw that’s popping in my mind- MINORS GO AWAY

-🎀OH BOY- Wearing something that fits your curves just right or something that’s a little showy gets both of them flustered and ready to drag you somewhere else. Charlie (bless her soul) tries to respectfully look away but you can catch how her gaze keeps drifting back to you and Vaggie? She’s looking respectfully and she’s not hiding it either.

-👑 Tease them all day long and they will not allow you to walk in the morning or the next few days. So…use caution when teasing The Princess of Hell and an ex-exorcist. They love you but they won’t go easy on you.

-🎀 Overall 20/10 relationship, may have some rough patches but they love you and will 100% talk everything out.

[mahg-stuff]

Hi. Can I request a big daddy elvis (late 70s) in which he and female reader are having an argument and he says something really mean so she heads into the bedroom and cries. He goes into the bedroom to apologize and then make out. Smut, detailed if you can and also some aftercare. Thanks

Tysm for the request! Enjoy it lovee! ♡

Kiss'n make it better

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Word count: 6.4k (quick) Summary: Bde grows stuffy as he witnesses you playing a card game with the guys, but not only that, you are in your delicate bed attire while you do it. Pairing: (1976)bd!elvis x afab!reader Warnings: 18+!, smut, p in v, elvis finally fully takes the reader, cherry cream pie (if you know what I mean...), kissing whilst bodily fluids are present on the mouth, tasting of bodily fluids, playing around with spit?oral fixation?, mention of elvis’ medications/pill use & dr. nick (im sorry), elvis’ standards for his women, toxicity, once again elvis being volatile, use of the word daddy, & of course fluff + baby talk!!

───

AN: Hello there! I was off and on while writing this since I was eager to let it out soon bc I felt I’d left the anon hanging for too long so, certain areas may seem rushed/lack context but I did my best with the details! I hope it’s not a bother, but overall I enjoyed writing this little piece. Anywho, my dear anon I hope you are pleased with this! And to the rest of you loves, enjoy! ♡ (keep the requests coming!!😚)

- pls excuse any errors, your girl got tired half way through cleaning it up 🥹💋

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Elvis was, as of now, getting his day-by-day measurements of meds from Dr. Nick within the master bathroom in his room. In the meantime, you held up in his bed, twiddling your thumbs as you waited, you both had just woken up. He would always make sure to do it in a different room, given that you had eventually told him that you didn't enjoy seeing everything they put in him. When you witnessed firsthand how much his body had to ingest, you expressed your concern, but he waved you off, saying everything was always under control.

At some point, you stopped showing concern upfront to him because it had resulted in the first argument between the two of you, however, you'd unconsciously always be pinching away at your arm's flesh as you worried about him. You were still relatively new to his lifestyle, but you were gradually adapting.

Things were taking quite a while, so you began wandering around his room. You'd only been together for a few months now, so you were still trying to settle in. Elvis asked you to move in right away, and you soon found out he didn't like being left alone. As you moved around the room, you were still in your night slip. It was a look that he found especially appealing. You tip-toed barefoot to the door, peeking outside, and then back over to the closed bathroom door in the bedroom. 

You heard them mumbling inside and decided, Why not go downstairs? 

Making your entrance to the living room and taking in more glances of the house you hadn't paid much attention to before, your eyes shot up towards the voices in the kitchen. As you peered into the kitchen, you saw two of his guys sitting there chatting with some cards in their hands. They took notice of your presence and glanced over at you, their eyes lingering on your attire. Going quite unnoticed by you. 

One clears his throat.

"Hey there, y/n, ya need anythin'?" 

You shrug, not really knowing what you need or want, but feeling a bit restless. 

"No, just bored waiting on El," you reply absentmindedly. 

One of the guys chuckles and nudges the other, whispering something to him. You catch a snippet of their conversation and wonder if they're talking about you.

"What's so funny?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion. 

The guys exchange glances before one of them speaks up, struggling to find the right words. 

"Oh, nothin', just...you know...we were just talkin' 'bout how...um...how fashionable you look today." 

You give them a skeptical look, not fully convinced by their compliment. 

"Really? They're just my pajamas, the first thing I found in the closet last night," you admit with a sheepish shrug as you look down at your delicate garments. 

They both burst into laughter, causing you to giggle along. The guys exchange knowing glances, struggling to contain their amusement at your naivety. Being new in Elvis' life and feeling a bit clueless around the guys sometimes—I mean, you'd never been surrounded by so many men before, so it was uncommon for you to catch their brash ways.

 

One of the guys begins talking, "Since you're bored, why don't ya join us? We're playin’ a card game." 

You happily agree and take a seat at the table. They explain the rules to you as one of them shuffles the deck of cards. The game soon progresses, and the guys bring out their competitive sides, teasing each other and making playful taunts. Even though they might’ve been acting a little abruptly, it was clear that they were enjoying themselves. Amidst the banter, one of the guys turns to you with a mischievous grin. 

"Hey, watch out, I wouldn't want ya to get too confused with all these cards. It might be a bit too much for a girl to handle," he says snarkily. 

You titter and shake your head, clearly letting the comment go over and past your head. 

"I can handle." 

You say it humbly.

***

Elvis, grumbling his way downstairs to look where you'd wandered off, stops at the bottom of the stairway as he hears his precious girl's laughter from the kitchen. He stalks quietly towards the doorframe of the kitchen, there he sees you sitting pretty with his men. He scans your body until he gets to your bare, wriggling sooties that are dangled just above the ground in the chair. Elvis clenches his fists, feeling his irritation rise at the sight of you playing with the guys.

As he watches, he can't help but notice the unkempt yet alluring exterior you possess. Your tousled hair and streaked makeup from the night before only seem to enhance your beauty, giving you a tempting appeal that could captivate those around you. He had set certain expectations for you, and seeing you in this compromising situation with the guys confirms that you were not fulfilling them. He storms in, his footsteps echoing through the room as he confronts the scene before him. 

"Darlin', you know bedder than to be gallivantin' 'round in your night attire with these fellas." He narrows his eyes, his southern accent thickening as he speaks.

Your head quickly turned to that familiar gruff voice, his appearance matching the roughness in his tone. There he stood, portly and only in a silk robe, a region of dark hair trailing down his navel from the open slit and his luscious sideburns framing his face. His noir hair, slightly disheveled from a restless night, completed the picture of a man who demanded attentiveness. As you caught his gaze, you could see a mix of disappointment and fret in his eyes. You instinctively straightened up, feeling a twinge of shame creeping into your conscience for some reason as you looked down at your attire and then back at him. 

"Well, I thought it'd be okay. I mean, I do live here now. Shouldn't I be comfortable, El?" You voiced cunningly, not purposefully trying to provoke him but unable to resist the urge to justify yourself. 

But there was an inimitable standard he held you to, one that required impeccability and grace. 

"Goddammit!" He started. 

"No man's woman should be 'round men in such whorey showin' garments. 'Specially not mah women!" 

You blinked in surprise, taken aback by his strong reaction. The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew tense, and you could feel the weight of his disapproval pressing down on you. 

His pride was unexpected for you. 

As you searched for words to respond, his intense gaze never wavered, making you feel insecure and exposed. 

"W-Well, the guys think otherwise!" You spoke aloud as your throat tightened. Well, at least you thought they didn't find your attire whorey—a word Elvis had introduced to you when he saw an outfit you picked out while shopping with him. 

Elvis glared over at them, and they both quickly stood up from their positions, some cards falling off the table as they did so. 

"That right?" 

"N-No Ep, 'course not." They stood there longer than they should have. 

"The hell y'all still doin' standin' here, for?! Go on an' do sumn then." Elvis spoke sternly as he pointed, his robe falling more open with his motion. 

The guys hastily scampered away, not wanting to further incur Elvis' anger. You look at Elvis, noticing his neglected appearance and glazed eyes. Nervous, you place your cards down, your eyebrows puckering in disarray. 

"What was that, Elvis?" you ask softly, but your voice is filled with slight perplexity. 

"They didn't do anything." You squeaked. 

"Didn't do anyhtin'." He scoffed under his breath. He shook his head and met your gaze again. 

"Matter uh fact, the hell were you thinkin' wonderin' off?" His words were a bit slurred. 

"Know all yur attention should be on me, 'n only me." Elvis' words hung in the air, heavy with a mix of fury and vulnerability. 

You could sense an ache behind his harsh tone, and it struck a chord within you. 

"Elvis." You delicately said his name, the concern evident in your voice.

But before you could continue, he raised his voice again, his drooping eyes glaring. 

"Kept mah eyes off ya for just uh moment, den I find you playin' bimbo wit' 'em fellas." 

Your heart sank as Elvis' words echoed in the room. 

This wasn't your Elvis. 

Your bottom lip quivered as you stood up from your seat, covering your face with one hand as you moved to leave the room. 

"The hell are ya goin'." He says this as he tries to stop you, but you pull away forcefully and hastily walk upstairs. 

Elvis hears your faint sniffle from the hallway, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. He paced around, mumbling words to himself as he held his forehead, trying to make sense of what just happened. 

It was clear that his head wasn't in the right place. 

***

As Elvis continued to pace, he barely grasps the impact of his words and considers the hurt he may have caused. 

"Baby," he muffles to himself as he looks around. 

He rubs his eyes and begins to walk towards the staircase. 

"Baby." He muffled again, as if he were whispering a plea into the empty space. 

He reaches the top step and hesitates, unsure of whether to knock on the closed bedroom door or barge right in. 

"B-Baby, a-a-ah wannas come in," he says gently in his gruff voice. 

"W-Wanna come in." Elvis stands in front of the door, his voice quivering with desperation. 

His babyish tone reveals the depth of his regret. Your ears perk up on the other side of the door, straining to catch every word. You can sense the turmoil in his voice, the vulnerability, and the longing.

It's a side of him you were weak for, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Slowly, you rise from the bed, your footsteps barely audible as you make your way to the door. With a shaken hand, you turn the knob and open the door, revealing Elvis standing there, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear. He takes in your appearance—your tear stained cheeks, red, fuzzy nose, and the slight puffiness of your eyes. His face softens with concern, and without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace. Your face buried into his exposed, hairy, warm torso through the opening of his robe. 

Feverishly, he brings his large palms up to either side of your face and pulls your face upwards. Taking in your babyfaced features. Your damp lashes flutter as you meet his gaze. 

"A-Ah made my little 'un cry." he mumbles as he grazes the pad of his thumb under your eye. 

"Y-Ya know ah ain't meant what I said back dere," he continues, his voice filled with veracity. 

"M-My temper… mah words came out wrong. A-Ah, wudnit wha I meant—", he trails off just before he wavers off, trying to focus his eyesight all of a sudden. 

As his eyelids droop, a gentle sigh escapes his lips. You can see the drowsiness etched across his weathered face, the lines deepening in the dim light of the room. 

It always tortured you when you saw him like this. 

You noticed it was one of the many effects the pills had on him, before starting him up, they'd slow him down first. 

Even with his abrupt weariness, you recognize that sincerity in his voice and the sorryness in his slumped eyes. You reached out and took his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it, offering a silent reassurance that you understood what he was trying to get out. 

You cared deeply for him, so forgiving him always came in a hurry for you.

***

As you both stood there, the grogginess began to fade, and his eyes soon became more and more focused. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. He gave your cheek a gentle squeeze. His gaze lingered on your face as he continued to graze his thumb gently on your cheek. 

"Let me m-make it up t-ta mah sweet girl, hmm." He says it so softly with that drawl of his.

As you listen to his soft voice, filled with tenderness and warmth, it becomes evident that he was speaking to you with the same affection one would reserve for a baby. One of his traits you had gotten used to and valued thoroughly. Your cheeks fill with warmth. He holds you by the waist, turning you over, and fully enters the bedroom with you. Shutting the door, he then leads you to the bed, helping you sit down on the edge. Elvis sits down beside you, and you feel the bed sink from his weight. 

He turns your face over to him, and he places a hand on your cheek. He begins caressing your face ever so lightly, as if you were made of spun glass. 

"Kiss'n make it better." He mumbles pouty-lippedly as his thumb runs over your lips. 

You stare into his hollow eyes, nodding, as he begins to push his thumb into your small mouth. Politely opening your mouth for him, the taste of his skin lingers on your tongue as his thumb explores the contours of your mouth. You both hold each other's gaze, and you lightly suckle on it, watching his eyes light up at your action. He gently brings his thumb out, a string of saliva dribbling down your lip. Elvis smudges your saliva all around your soft pout, making your lips appear glossy, then brings his thumb up to his lips to suck off your slobber. As you both continue your intimate encounter, the air around you seems to grow heavier. His fingers then work their way down your torso, tracing your dainty body. With a famished mutter, he slides his hand beneath your slip, teasingly grazing over your soft, small chest, giving one of your nipples a tug. You can't help but whimper at his action.

And want grows between you, feeling a surge of heat run from your face down to your toes. 

"C'mere, let ol’ daddy kiss ya," he leans in, capturing your lips in a fervent, persistent kiss. 

The taste of him fills your palate as he slips his tongue inside your pretty mouth. You find yourself feeling fuzzy in the rush of the moment, willingly giving into his actions. His large hands begin gripping your small waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His supple kisses had always been tender and gentle, but this one was different. It left you almost breathless. His touch was heavy, and you found yourself slipping in the heat of the moment. Your slip rises upwards at his action, revealing the pair of tiny matching ruffled shorts. 

He breaks the kiss for a moment, his pillowy lips glistening. His eyes lock onto yours—a look of want. Elvis' hefty hand goes down to your upper thigh, and he grazes the fabric of your shorts. 

"Take 'em off, 'ittle." He rasps quietly, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

Your breath hitches with a half-laugh. "Kay." You gently get off the bed and look over at him as he keenly stares at you with his still-glazed-over eyes. 

A look you may never get used to. 

You began pulling down at the hem of your waistband until the fabric hit the ground, being completely bare underneath. 

While the length of your slip fell just enough to cover your most delicate parts, he whispered, "Lemme see her." 

His voice is playful as he motions for you to come closer.

You take a step toward him. He reaches out and gently tugs at your hip, his thumb rubbing your hipbone, sending a muzzy feeling to your belly. With his other hand, he reaches over to the hem of the fabric, pulling it up—he throbs between his legs.

From his view, he could see all of you. Your narrow hips and thighs and the smallest patch of curls that covered your pussy. The little crease in the middle—so sweet, you were puffy, and sticky just from his kisses. You looked over at his garb—his robe now fully undone from all his movement, also nothing underneath. You took in as the section of his body hair went from his pudgy chest to his soft belly, which hung just barely over his waistline, and then turned into thick curls at his mound. His corpulent and hard, leaky cock presently standing tall just for you against his paunch. You gazed at the ridge of his pretty, purplish, rosy tip weep as it peeked from his foreskin.

Suddenly, you jolted as you felt his thumb at your swollen clit, a splotchy pink filling your cheeks. His touch was gentle yet firm, his fingers perfectly caressing your sensitive nub. You couldn't help but whimper, the lovely sound escaping your pursed lips as your hips instinctively bucked against his digit. 

"Ain't nothin' more purdy than seein' you all pink 'n warmed up. Could spend all day thumbin' away at that ‘dorable clit uh yours." He babbled as he applied more pressure and quickened the pace of his movements. 

Making you even more rosy. 

You could feel the heat building between your legs, the ache for release becoming almost unbearable. Every swipe of his thumb seemed to bring you closer to the edge, pushing you towards the brink of ecstasy. Your back began to arch as you leaned into his touch, but just as you were almost there, he pulled his thumb away. You let out a frustrated whimper, desperately wanting him to continue, then you went to cup yourself until he swiftly stopped you. 

"Dun cha get greedy on me now," he whispered, his voice coated with directness and a hint of humor. 

You couldn't help but pout, your need for satisfaction overwhelmed your senses. You ached. He had never stopped on the brink of your release like this before. His hand left your trembling body, resulting in you feeling empty and yearning for more. You watched as he brought his thumb to his lips, tasting the remnants of your sweet desire, a sly smile playing on his lips. The rosiness in your cheeks seems to grow darker with his action.

"Ah can't have ya fallin' apart jus yet," he murmured, his voice low. 

You looked at him doe-eyed as you clamped your legs, standing there. 

"Little 'un." Elvis whispered as he reached out for a hand. 

"Idenit time for ya to blossom," he continued as he pulled you closer, his warm breath hitting your cheek. "'ittle flower of yours needs ta bloom." Elvis gave you a nod as he spoke and guided you. 

"Bloom," you repeated as you held his strong gaze, and he began helping you lay on the bed. 

"Mhm, correct baby." He cooed as he helped you lie down. 

When you finally understood what he had said, your heart seemed to race. Staring up at the mirror above you on the ceiling, you took in as you laid delicately on his silk bedding. You began recalling the past nights and days of glancing up at yourself while Elvis rutted against your tummy when he cuddled you until he came, or when he'd only do little more than barely let the tip of his cock pierce your tiny hole—but never more than that. 

Now, he indicated that he wanted to take things further. You were both a little afraid and excited by it. Even so, you were genuinely more willing than ever. It made you rub your legs together thinking about it. You would constantly pester him for more, but he would tell you that it wasn't the right moment and that he knew when it would be. Thinking of his words from earlier, you thought maybe this would be his way of making it better after he'd lashed out. Maybe, he wanted to make it up to you by fully fulfilling your needs. You beamed at the thought.

Lost in your little mind, you were interrupted as you felt the bed sink next to you.

There he lay, still in his loose, silky garb, fully open, his hairy manliness laying solid against his belly while his balls were perfectly nestled below his shaft. You looked over at him as he began lying on his side to face you. His jawline was soft and his cheeks full, adding to the suppleness of his overall appearance. His overgrown sideburns adding to his rugged allure. The word ‘mesmerizing’ repeating in your head.

"Rest on yur side f'me, baby." You began turning over for him, but before you could, he stopped you—he saw the mild unease in your eyes. 

His hand cradled the side of your cheek as your eyes stared into his. However, he couldn't help but smile, thinking your muddled face looked adorable. 

"Hers dudden needs to be afraid." He whispered softly and patted your head now. 

With each light pat on your head, his warmth enveloped you, making you feel comforted in his presence. You smiled back at him softly, it sort of surprised you when he caught it. 

"H-Her knows." You whispered back in the same way he spoke to you. 

It was really rubbing off on you, for sure.

He leaned in, placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, and then motioned for you to rest on your side. Such a baby, you thought as you gave his chubby face one last glance. As you shifted onto your side, he scooted in closer, so he was spooning you, his round stomach pressing into you. You felt the hardness of his length up against your lower back, feeling the warmth radiating off as it throbbed against the thin fabric of your slip. You couldn't deny the growing ache between your legs, yearning for his touch and for him to take control. 

Elvis began lifting the hem of your garment, exposing your bare, pretty, round backside to him. His hand rested on the curve of your hip, his touch both firm and gentle. A shiver ran down your spine as his palm traced delicate patterns on your skin, sending those funny feelings through your body. You felt him move your leg a bit, so your pussy lips were peeking out between your thighs from his view. You felt him pulsing along your rear now, slick already forming at your petals. You couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself to him completely. You heard him snicker behind you, bringing a blush to your cheeks. Elvis grabbed his thick shaft in one hand and brought it between your thighs, your slick and his precum mixing into one as he rubbed the ridge of his cock along your lips. 

Eagerly, you try to slide down, so his tip pushes up towards your entrance. 

"Careful, too big for yuh to take so fast," he warns as you bare down on his leaky tip. 

You move back unconsciously, and the head of cock grazes at your swollen clit causing you to shudder. 

Trying again, you huff, "Won't fit." 

Elvis is quite amused by this, and he tittered as he leaned into your neck for a quick peck. 

You feel his warm breath against your skin as he whispers, "Baby, needa take time t'stretch ya out properly." 

He trails his fingers along your inner thighs, teasingly rubbing circles on your sensitive heat. Your body reacts, flushing with chills and impatience. You can feel yourself clenching at nothing. Elvis raises the leg you weren’t resting on with his other arm, and you blush at how vulnerable you seem in the pose. He moves the hand he was massaging you with toward your mouth. You understood what he meant, of course. Carefully, you used your hand to hold the back of his large one as you carefully spit into it. You watch as Elvis gruffly giggles at your compliance as you gaze up at the mirror, his eyes peeking over you as he watches his hand lower back down.

Bringing his hand back down to your throbbing core, now slick with both your juices and saliva. His fingers glide along your folds, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. As his thumb brushes against your clit, a shudder runs through your body, aching for more. You arch your back, silently begging for his touch to become more demanding, more intense. His finger begins to pry at your snug cunt, slipping inside with ease from all your wetness. You feel him begin to inch a second finger inside of you, stretching you further and filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, his fingers deeper than you were used to. He would only nag at your hole in the past. You whimper as he starts to move his fingers in and out—a slow and deliberate rhythm. Your hips instinctively press down on his hand, seeking more friction and more of his lengthy fingers. You can't help but squeal, the sound escaping your lips as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting a sweet spot that makes your whole body shiver. You try closing your legs, but he still holds one up. He feels your leg shift and hears your cute squeal. Elvis lets go, letting your leg rest down, with a snicker as he looks over at you with a mischievous grin. Soothing his palm up and down against your thigh, he leaned to kiss your upper arm. 

"Ya kay, 'ittle?" he whispered in his southern drawl. 

You nod, unable to form words, as the sensations overwhelm you. 

Slowly, he removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you aching for more. But before you have a chance to say anything, Elvis is already positioning himself between your legs from behind. He catches a glimpse of your sweet little gaping hole that was dripping with want. He begins rubbing the ridge of his cock along your pussy, you feel his chest vibrate behind you from a low groan. His tip begins to ease in as he coos in your ear slowly. Without delay, he plunges inside you halfway, his lip curling at your tightness. You wail as he bucks his hips further, and you try to get away due to the harsh feeling of the big stretch. He carefully moves the arm he was resting on to go under your waist to hold you from your firm stomach as he hitches up the rest of your babydoll. Pulling you towards him, his gut pressing into you more. 

Taking a glance at your clenched fists and shut eyes, he grumbles, "S'okay baby, breathe." 

You gulp down and gasp, "'S't-too much." 

"Needa bit more little 'un." He croons and brings his empty hand to swipe at your clit from the front in order to break you in with more ease. 

With a final buck of his hips, he fills your sweet cunt completely, taking him all in. You cry out at the forceful pinch, your hand gripping at his hand that held you from your tummy. Elvis grunts loudly when you clench at his cock. 

"M-Mah god, baby, let loose f'me. You'll break me off wit' all tha squeezin'." He blurts out, his voice strained with pleasure and urgency.

Your body trembles against his, and he continues to swipe at your tender nub, wanting to bring any type of pleasure to you right now. Elvis glanced up at your face, a tear dribbling down from the corner of yours. He leaned in, kissing it away. Gently opening your glossy eyes, you look up towards the mirror, taking in the way you were both at last bound. His robe was still hanging loosely on his body, and his hair was tousled as he pressed his face into your nape. As you gripped him with your hand, you felt him grab hold of it and start pulling it down to your heat. Placing it between your thighs, where you and him connected, you traced his weighty balls over with your small hand. Indicating he was practically balls deep inside your dear little hole. 

"Yuh feel him inside ya." He whispered airily into your nape, the bass of his voice rumbling against your back. 

You blushed at his words, feeling a mixture of shyness and alertness. You nodded, unable to find the words to respond, as you focused on the sensation of him filling you completely. His hand remained on yours, guiding your movements as you continued to explore the intimate connection between your bodies. Your digits now covered by both yours and his fluids. Elvis let his hand loose and moved it over to your waist, both of his arms now holding you in a spoon position. As the initial sting began to fade and pleasure took its place, you began moving, slowly your movements against him became more confident. Each motion became braver as desire continued to build between you both. Your whimpers got louder, and you felt the hairs on your nape stand as you heard a little huff come from Elvis behind you. His grip on your waist tightens slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Pulling himself out slightly and then bucking into you again, causing you to let out a high-pitched moan as you experienced the overwhelming sensation for the first time. A dance of pain and pleasure intertwined within you. You were sure a trickle of blood had stained the satin sheets beneath you both as you felt the warm wetness building between you two. You were too busy taking in the feeling of his hardness inside you, he noticed as he peeked up at the mirror and saw you lying there with your small mouth gaping and your hand buried between your thighs where he had left it. 

"Touch yuh'self sweetheart." He grunted into your ear as he strained himself from moving his hips too harshly, his grip on your waist still firmly in his arms.

You complied, your fingers danced over your sensitive folds, slick with arousal, and maybe more, until they found your swollen clit. As you began to rub circles around it, your moans grew louder and more dire, echoing through the room. The mirror gave you a clear view of your own flushed face, your eyes filled with desire and vulnerability. The way he watched you, his dark eyes smoldering with lust, only fueled the fire burning within you. Every movement caused the robe to sway gently, revealing hints of his luscious curves beneath. As your fingers continued their rhythmic dance upon your clit, you couldn't help but imagine his hands—those strong and skilled hands—taking over. The thought of his touch, his fingers tracing the same patterns you were now creating, made your toes wriggle. Your breath hitched as you quivered as the warm, fuzzy feeling in your lower abdomen became more and more unbearable. His thrusts became more vigorous, matching the intensity building within you. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans mingling with his low grunts. As he maintained his relentless pace, you surrendered yourself completely to what your body was feeling. The tension in your body coiled tighter and tighter until, finally, with one strong thrust, you unraveled into a state of euphoria on his cock. Your body trembled with sheer bliss as he continued to move inside you, he watched as your pretty face contorted and your blush deepened. 

"O-Oh god." You whined loudly, tightening around him, and the throbbing of his girthy cock became even more pronounced. 

His grip on your hips tightened as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, looking for his own release. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you moan prettily but uncontrollably. He glared over at you, bringing one hand up to grasp your jaw, his thumb once again finding its way into your mouth.

"N-Not so loud baby. Ain't want no 'un else hearin' ya gone like this, only me." He spoke between each heavy breath, sounding imposing. 

You nodded, unable to say any words. 

His thumb pressed against your tongue, silencing your moans as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. The room was filled with the sound of skin pushing against skin, blending with your muffled cries of pleasure. You felt your ears grow hotter as his grunts turned into gruff whines, it made you wonder how such a man could make such pretty sounds. He pressed into you harder, the suppleness of his hair-filled belly now squished into your lower back. Elvis' grip on you toughens under you, his fingers digging into the skin of your tummy as he pulls you closer, seeking an even deeper connection. His other hand now filled with your drool. Watching as his lip was now curled, you couldn't tear your gaze away from his beautiful expression slipping into that o-face of his through the mirror. With one final thrust, he let out a garish whine, emptying himself inside of your now-tamed pussy, filling you completely with his essence. You couldn't help but muffle a sob and bite down on his thumb as you felt his scorching seed paint your walls. 

He was still so far buried inside you as he let out heavy sighs. Elvis slowly began to withdraw his upper body from you, looking down at the slight space between his belly and your back, shifting his hips slowly to pull out, the base of his cock streaked with your pure blood. He paused as he felt your tongue pushing at his thumb and looked over, your eyes were watery. 

He withdrew his large hand, you turned your head over to him, the position putting a little discomfort on your neck as he was still spooning you. You were in awe of his blushed face and matted, lush hair sticking to his forehead from all his sweat. Bringing the hand you still held between your thighs over to hold the side of his face, your eyes widened as you focused on the redness of your blood on your digits, which had now smudged a bit on his cheek. Elvis took in your expression and glanced over at your small hand against his cheek, he snickered. Grabbing ahold of it, he brought it over to his mouth, giving it a soft kiss and even a subtle lick. Your purity now smudged along his soft lips. 

"A fine 'ittle flower 'as bloomed," he mumbled as he leaned his face into you. 

Your heart raced as his lips pushed against yours gently. The taste of his kiss, a mixture of your blood and his own essence, sent warmth down your spine. He steadily pulled away, enjoying the fact that your lips were stained right along with his. 

It left you brain-scattered and your hind eyes in a fuzzy state.

You were brought back when you felt him pulling his practically flaccid cock out of you. You winced as a dull ache shot through your body. Quickly sensing soreness, but a satisfied, weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, knowing he'd finally gone completely with you. You stiffened as the warmth of his spew slowly oozed out of your snug, bruised hole. 

Elvis' view was a delight, he thought, watching as the scarlet milky mess glazed your puffed-up pussy lips, running down your inner thigh. Slumbering on your back now, your babydoll still pushed up but remained covering your small chest. 

But before you could turn to fully face him, you panicked as he stood up from the bed abruptly. 

"E-Elvis," you sputtered out, even reaching your hand out for him. 

He ignored your plea as he hurriedly walked towards the bathroom. His footsteps echoed in the silence, and you suddenly felt anxious. Moments later, he emerged with a damp towel in his hand. As he approached you, he saw the look on your face as you laid on your back. 

"Hey, what's wit' da worried eyes baby," he asked gently while gently leaning over at you. 

You still felt the pang of fret in your chest as Elvis leaned over you, his concern evident in his eyes. 

"I-I just got scared. Thought you w-were leaving," you admitted, your voice shaky. 

Elvis' expression softened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair off your face. 

"Aww, don' worry, sweetheart. Am here now, ain't goin' anywhere," he reassured you, his voice smooth and reassuring in his drawl. 

His touch was comforting, and you felt yourself relax under his calm presence. 

As his hand lingered on your cheek, he spoke again. "Ah's needs ta clean my little girl now, kay." 

You nodded as Elvis stood in front of you while you lay splayed on the bed. He softly lifted your legs and began to gently wipe away the sticky residue, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His sunken eyes met yours briefly, a glimmer of tenderness, before he focused back on cleaning you up. You flinched as he swiped at your tender bud, and he couldn't help but grin. Finishing up, he tossed the used rag aside. Elvis had always been thorough in his caretaking when it came to you. As he gently began tugging your delicate top down to cover you, he paused and scrunched it up, revealing your small, supple chest and your soft pink meek nipples. 

Leaning down to give both of your petite mounds delicate kisses, "Almost forgot 'bout 'em sweet lil' things," he muffled as he kissed your warm skin. 

You found yourself giggling as you ran a hand through his tousled-up hair. One of the things he had made you become—a giggler. 

He stood back up and fixed your babydoll fully now as he smiled at you.

"All done, my little 'un," he whispered softly, his voice filled with pride and adoration. 

Collapsing beside you, his hand tenderly stroked your hair, whispering, "We'll get tha rest uh us cleaned up later." 

He then continued as you moved over to fully face him, his robe now imperfectly tied. "Needa hold ya darlin’, ah know how emotional you puny things can be after experiencin' this kinda thing." 

You snuggled closer to him with a giggle, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in his embrace. The tubbiness of him being all the more cozy. As you both basked in each other, you felt the palm of his hand smooth down at your lower abdomen. 

"Yuh sore?" His voice held that babyish tone. 

"Bits," you mumbled as your cheek rested against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. 

His hand continued to caress your belly, his touch gentle. “Love her lots,” he suddenly blurted and leaned in to give your forehead a kiss. 

You gazed up at him, leaning in to kiss the fullness between his neck and chin. “Loves daddy lots too,” you whispered as you followed up with another kiss before you snuggled into him again. 

• Master List

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[damiansgoodgirll]

can you please write about rhea x reader where rhea is into women let’s pretend!! and reader is her best friend and she doesn’t know if she’s straight or bisexual because like she’s attracted to women but she can’t understand so she’s very naive and she asks rhea for help? it can be fluff and smut i really don’t care! thank you so much if you do this ❤️❤️

rhea ripley x reader

‼️this is based off on some experiences i had lol, mention of sex, sweet rhea, i need her in my life lol, slow burn? kinda long-ish i guess and smut so stay away kids‼️

new experiences

“what you mean you don’t know?” rhea asked, sitting on the couch right facing you.

“it means i don’t know!” you kept pacing around and honestly rhea couldn’t handle it anymore.

“it’s a simple question, are you attracted by women the same way you are attracted by men?” she asked, again.

“again, rhea…i don’t know…yes, i guess” you replied.

“okay, let me ask you this…does liv, becky, shayna…i don’t know, beyonce, attract you?” she asked.

“i mean…yes, they’re all attractive women, like damian and finn are handsome men but that doesn’t mean i want to be with them…you know, sexually” you said, avoiding her look.

so this is what it was about.

rhea always knew you were attracted physically both by men and women. she knew, you didn’t. but as far as she can remember you always dated men, you’ve never been with a woman before and she knew this thing was scaring you.

“what is exactly that you don’t know love?” she asked, a little more serious.

“i don’t know if - well - if i like women the same way i like men you know? everytime i see a good looking woman around i wonder what it would feel like dating her you know? like, dating a woman in general because it’s new to me…and i don’t understand, i can’t understand if what i feel is just simple attraction or something more…” you said, giving up and sitting next to her on the couch, facing her “it’s not just about being attracted by them…who wouldn’t be attracted by beyonce?” you joked, making rhea laugh too “but i don’t know if i would like something more the same way i would simply date a man…”

“have you ever tried? have you ever met a woman that your mind, said - fuck , i wanna date her and have sex with her so bad!?” she asked you.

“not really…because i don’t what i’m feeling…it’s all so confusing”

“i know, i’ve been there…and it took time for me too you know…you should start experiencing…meeting new people, meet a woman who can actually help you and have your mind cleared” she said, cringing at her own words.

rhea always had the biggest crush on you but she never said anything, until now at least. she didn’t know what you were feeling and she didn’t want to confuse you but the fact that you just confessed to her that you were “possibly” into women just made it easier for her.

“don’t you think i’m way past my age to experiment? this is something you do when you’re sixteen” you joked.

“absolutely no…i didn’t realise what i liked until i was twenty…it’s never too late love”

“okay…then how would i be able to meet women? how do you do it? gay bars? that would just make me really uncomfortable…i don’t know if…or even what i’m doing…” you asked her desperately.

“gay bars?” she laughed “what kind of shows are you watching?” you looked at her weirdly “yes, gay bars are a thing, and they’re actually very helpful if you just want to have and sex and then never see each other again…it’s not where i would start tho…maybe you can download some meeting app, you know start from there and see where it goes”

“i would love to do that rhea but the problem still remains…i don’t have experience with women! i don’t know where to start or what to do and honestly i don’t see myself opening up to them the same way i’m doing with you right now, i love talking and doing this with you because you’re not judging me and i’ve known you for years and i always knew you wouldn’t judge me for something like this but i don’t know what their intentions are…maybe i should just drop it…” you said, exhausted.

“you shouldn’t drop it…not if it’s making you feel like that, it’s okay and normal to be confused love…” she smiled at you.

“i know that but”

“no buts…you’re confused and i get it, it will take some time maybe for you to get to know you better but i promise you, in the end will be worth it” she said “plus sex with women is more pleasurable than sex with men” she joked, making you blush.

“that’s what i’m talking bout re! how am i supposed to know what it feels like if i never got the chance to experience it?” you said throwing your hands up.

she simply laughed. she didn’t expect you to over react about something like that. being curious? yes, but over reacting? she wasn’t expecting it at all.

“okay…let me ask you this simple question” she said and you nodded “have you ever kissed a girl? like in the past…a friend maybe?”

“never”

“never?”

“no rhea, never…” you said.

“not even as a joke?” she asked again.

“no…that’s probably why i’m also so confused…i told you, i never had any kind of experience…”

“would you like?” she asked.

“to what? kiss a woman?” you sarcastically replied and she nodded.

“kiss me” she smiled and your jaw dropped.

“are you sure?”

“i’m sure…you’re my best friend” how painful it was for her to say that “and since you’ve spent the last hour complaining how you never got to experience that, let me help you”

“won’t this ruin our friendship?” you asked a little worried.

“why would it ruin our friendship? it’s just a kiss…it doesn’t mean anything right?” she said and you nodded.

it means everything to me - she screamed internally.

“okay, you’re right…” you smiled at her as she moved closer to you. her hand gently caressing your cheek making you shiver “don’t be scared” she encouraged you “it’s like you’re kissing a man”

“but it’s not” you whispered “you’re not a man…”

“oh really?” she smirked, making you laugh “hey…if you want to stop or if i’m making you uncomfortable please let me know…it’s the last thing i wanna do” she said and you nodded.

it’s not like she wanted to take advantage of you or the situation - maybe a little - but you’ve been driving her crazy for the past years and now she saw a little hope to have a future with you. she knew she had to play her cards very well otherwise she would fuck up everything and the last thing she wanted to do was to scare you away.

“come closer…” she whispered “it’s okay love” you did as she told and moved closer to her. you were now face to face and having her so close was making you feel things…

“it’s just a kiss” she whispered softly and before you could say something back she laid her lips on yours. it took you a few seconds to reciprocate but you couldn’t deny how good you were feeling. when she felt how positively you were reacting, she deepened the kiss, teasing your lips with her tongue, asking for permission. you definitely didn’t back up. you let her do it, smiling into the kiss. her hands went behind your back, making you come closer to her body while your hands went back into her hair, softly massaging her scalp, making her whimper into your mouth.

you broke the kiss just to catch your breath and in that moment you realised in what kind of weird position you got yourself into.

if it was just a kiss why were you now straddling her lap?

“so?” she asked you, breathing.

“it was good” you smiled.

“yeah? you liked that?”

“yes but…”

“but?”

“i need something” she didn’t even let you finish.

“more?” she smiled.

“more” you nodded.

“do you trust me y/n?” she asked you, making sure you were comfortable.

“i do”

“good…lay on the couch for me beautiful” she said and you did as she told you.

“rhea?”

“mh?”

“are you sure this isn’t going to ruin our friendship? i care too much about you and i don’t want anything to change between us…” you said timidly.

“i promise you, this isn’t changing anything, i’m giving you the experiences you wanted to experience” she smirked and she smiled at you “but if at any point you want me to stop, you need to tell me okay? i don’t want to make you uncomfortable love” you nodded at her words.

she kissed you again, softly, biting your lips and sucking on them, making you shiver. it’s not the first time you’ve been kissed, but it was so different with her that you liked it even more.

“what do you usually like when you’re with men?” she asked softly.

“i-uhm…i don’t - i don’t know…”

“girl” she joked “i need more than that” making you laugh “what do you usually like when you’re having sex with men? there must be something you like the most…”

“i mean…we just have sex…” and in that moment rhea realised how important talking about this was. by the answers you gave her, she understood how you’ve never had this kind of conversations with your previous partners, making her wonder if they even knew what you liked or not. a part of her hated how careless your partners had been with you, they didn’t even take time to learn your body and that was making her mad.

“how does it feel when they first penetrate you?” she asked, your eyes opening to watch her.

“i mean…good? what kind of question is this” you slightly laughed.

“does it hurt? how is your body responding to that?”

“it hurts…but just for a moment, i think it’s normal tho…” you said, not sure of anything.

“yeah, if you’re a virgin…i’m not saying this to make you feel bad but your exes were pretty bad in bed, did they at least took time in getting you wet enough for them?” she couldn’t believe of what she was hearing.

“if they wanted -…”

“if they wanted? i’m so happy you’re single at the moment, please, stay single for a while” she joked again making you chuckle “forget about everything you know…i’m showing you how good sex can actually be” she said and you nodded.

she continued kissing you, not rushing anything. she wanted to take her time with you, making you feel good, showing you how sex was supposed to be. bonus point that you were her crush and she actually wanted to make you her priority.

she slowly began kissing your neck, leaving soft marks and bites. she was observing the way your body was reacting to her, watching if she was making you uncomfortable but when she saw no sign of hesitation, she continued.

“can i remove your top beautiful?” she asked gently and you nodded. she saw you in just your lingerie before but this was a completely different situation. her eyes fell open when she saw the black lacy bra that you were wearing. it was made for you.

she began kissing your breast, leaving marks and bites, making your whole body shiver.

“is it okay if i remove it?” she asked.

“yes” you barely whispered. lucky she was so close to you otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

she let your bra fall onto the floor as she slowly teased your nipples, making them hard. she loved the effect she was having on you.

you, on the other hand, were more than confused. you loved everything that she was doing to you, but you realised that maybe you were loving it because it was her who was doing it with you. you always thought she was a beautiful woman but nothing more than that. you’ve never even thought about what it would have been like dating her and having a life with her.

your core pooled at just the idea of what rhea had in mind for you, and, smart as she was, she sensed it.

her soft lips touching and sucking on your nipples, making you moan in pleasure. her tongue traced your soft stomach, prepping it in kisses, making you feel loved.

her hands went to unbutton your pants, tracing them down and discarding them somewhere on the floor.

“rhea?” you softly called her.

“yes?”

“what-what…uhm…how do women do this?” she swore she tried her best not to laugh, not at you but she thought you looked cute when you were curious and, in some ways, innocent “don’t laugh” you scolded her.

“i’m sorry love…see, we have different ways of doing it, i can show you some…” she placed a gentle kiss over your thigh and you nodded.

her hands slowly moved your panties down, her face shocked when she saw how wet you were, and she barely touched you yet. she kept kissing your thighs but you stopped her the moment she was about to kiss your pussy.

“rhea?”

“mh?”

“what…what are you doing?” you whispered. everything was kinda new to you.

“what you mean?” she asked confused.

“i mean…is it normal? like, you know, what you’re about to do…no one ever done it so…i was just wondering” you confessed.

she was shocked.

no one’s ever went down on you and this was making everything even more exciting for her cause she had the opportunity to show you everything new.

“it’s more than normal baby” she reassured you “and i’m so mad that no one ever done this to you…if you were my girl i would spend hours buried in this sweet pussy” she said before gently kissing your clit, making you shiver.

she kept teasing you until you begged her for something more. and she listened to you begging as it was a preyer. she started sucking and licking at your clit, making you arch your back.

silently you were cursing your ex boyfriend for never doing this to you but in some way, you were actually happy that rhea was doing it to you instead.

your moans were filling the room. rhea’s experienced tongue continued the work while her eyes were switching from being close to watch your face.

to her, you were the most beautiful person in the world. especially in that moment.

mouth open, eyes closed, your hands grabbing and holding tightly the pillows on her couch, your legs beginning to shake.

it was pure bliss for you but it was pure bliss for rhea too.

“rhea…i-i think” you couldn’t even speak properly “i’m -…”

“i know princess…i can feel it, just let it go” she whispered against your pussy, making you come right there.

“oh fuck…” you moaned, your legs tightening around her head as you were shaking.

rhea helped you recoveries from your orgasm but didn’t stop there as one of her finger teased your entrance.

before you could say anything she silenced you with a kiss “you taste so sweet baby, you’re like a drug to me…taste yourself on me” and you did as she said. you could taste it on her tongue and it was making you trembling all over again.

“give me another one…” she whispered this time against your neck. her middle finger entering you in a swift move. gently thrusting in and out, her thumb circling your swollen clit. her free hand went to the back of your head, moving you closer to her face, she was making you watch her.

she needed so see how good she was making you feel.

“open your eyes love” she teased “look at me” and so you did.

it was hard keeping your eyes open, specially when she added a second finger inside of you.

“rhea…oh fuck”

“that good uh?” she smirked.

how she wished she could have you naked on her couch every single day.

“please…”

“please what love?”

you don’t know what you were begging her for, you just loved the way she was making you feel and even if it was a little too much, you couldn’t help but ask for more.

“don’t stop…please”

“i don’t plan on doing so…” she smirked keeping her eyes on you. staring at her was making you wetter and you felt you were about to come any second.

“rhea…” you moaned.

your mouth fell open and the your head touching the pillows beneath you. it was a silent scream, your breath sucking it and your eyes squeezing so hard. rhea thought for a moment that she broke you.

she was watching carefully how your body was reacting to the aftermath of your second orgasm. you were shaking and your breath still uneven.

when you opened your eyes again you saw her right in front of you.

“you okay there?”

“more than okay…” you whispered, still catching your breath.

“so…this is just a few ways of how we enjoy sex” she cracked a joke making you laugh.

“there more?”

“many” she whispered against your lips, kissing you softly “but i think it’s enough for today…”

“wait-…”

“is everything okay?” she asked a little worried.

“you didn’t…how can i…?”

she stopped you before you could continue “it’s not about me today, it’s about you. hopefully i’ve helped you a little more with your sexuality, or maybe i’ve confused you a little more…and if you want to learn more on how to please a woman i’ll be happy to help you out” she winked at you “but for today i think it’s enough…you’ve been so good to me, and i thank you so much for trusting me with this”

you took a few minutes to realise just how much care rhea was putting into this. it wasn’t just her helping you out with your sexuality, you realised there was something more. some unspoken words between the two of you. the way she was treating you, with such care and almost…love.

a tear fell from your eyes and rhea noticed too.

“hey…is everything okay?” she worried, thinking that maybe she overstepped too much and made you uneasy.

“yes…” you quickly wiped your tear as you slowly covered yourself with a blanket “it’s just…it’s more than okay…rhea, i can’t help you enough for this”

“you don’t have to-…”

“i have to…because for the first time in my life i’ve felt like someone really cared about me and i loved it…and i know i shouldn’t say this to you because you are my best friend and there’s nothing between us but you really made me feel loved…and i liked it” and in that moment you understood, it was rhea.

it has always been rhea.

the reason you were so comfortable around her, it came naturally. the way she always treated you, making you feel special, in some of her ways. it was her that you wanted, not any woman, but her.

you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself. maybe because you feared her rejection, or maybe because you feared your own rejection of liking women. but it didn’t matter anymore, not when you were feeling like that.

“i really care about you y/n…way more than just a friend” she confessed.

“what?”

“it shocked me that you didn’t realise it before. i’ve never dated other women because the only one i wanted was you” she said, timidly.

“but you’ve been with other women before…”

“nothing lasted tho” she said “not when those women weren’t you…”

“you mean that?”

“i mean everything i said. everything ive done with you tonight…it wasn’t just for a night…i’m here to help you to get to know yourself better, to teach you if you want to learn, i will always be here for you love…we don’t have to rush anything, we can take it slow and see how things go…if you want me” you’ve never seen rhea so vulnerable before and seeing this side of her was making you realise that you didn’t fully know her.

but god how you liked her. how you liked this new side of her, how you liked the protective side of her when you two went out, how she knew how to treat you.

“yes…yes i want this rhea…just…it’s all new for me, can we take things slow?” you hesitated asking her this. she said it wasn’t a problem but you’ve never met someone who was willing to take time in get to fully know you.

“love…come here” she hugged you “i promise you i will be patient with you…i want this new experience to be enjoyable for you, i don’t want to pressure you or anything…i promise you” she kissed you, softly. her hand caressing your cheek.

“okay…” you whispered.

“okay” she smiled against your lips.

maybe, for the first time in your life, you found someone who was really interested in getting to know you better, and you couldn’t believe that the person you were talking about was rhea.

[genericpuff]

i find it funny that one of rachel’s drawings of herself in the afterword that just went up is just fully persephone. is that something she does a lot?

Alright so I've been making it a general rule for myself to like, not harp on Rachel in any way outside of LO as much because frankly the horse is dead now and there's not much left to say outside of what can be analyzed in hindsight. I think despite everything I have to say about her and her work, she still deserves to get away from this nonsense and I don't wanna spend eternity hovering over her shoulder.

But the afterword was posted within the LO series and is clearly meant for readers of LO in the functioning of being an afterword so let's just call it fair game LOL

I will say, on the whole, it does feel very honest and sentimental and I can respect Rachel for taking the time to write out and illustrate her afterword in a way that was personal to both her and her fans. I can understand why she went at it from the angle that she did and I'm not gonna fault her for that.

But there's also something that feels deeply... disingenuous about her approach right from the starting gun. I will say, before I continue, that I'm well aware I am biased towards Rachel as a creator, and I fully acknowledge that I could very well be reading too much into things. This is just my opinion, take it with mountains of salt.

I can get looking back on your own childhood, your past self, whatever, and going "see! it all got better!" because sure! For a lot of creators like Rachel, it must be wild to look back on where they came from and there's a lot of sentimentality on expressing that through an afterword like this where she reflects on where she came from. Though she STILL didn't acknowledge her other comics outside of LO, I can understand if she wants to leave those skeletons in the closet.

But I feel like her drawing herself as a child who's being given an Eisner by her adult self and all that just feels like some gross attempt to disarm any criticism of her because "don't make fun of me, I'm just a sad lonely baby girl!"

She's not a child. Child Rachel didn't grossly misappropriate Greek myth into their own self-indulged vanity project. Child Rachel didn't claim herself a folklorist of a culture's works only to bastardize them completely. Child Rachel didn't create a hostile environment within her fanbase by bullying anyone who she perceived as a threat, sneaking into critical spaces to try and cause trouble, and writing her own clapbacks into her comic. Child Rachel didn't claim to be challenging misogyny and purity culture only to reinforce misogyny and purity culture through her own self-insert baby-virgin-gets-rescued-by-rich-tycoon power fantasy that regularly glorified abuse towards women and the lower class.

30-almost-40-year-old Rachel did though.

At best it comes across as really cringe sentimentality from a Greek-weeb (heh, greeboo) and goes to show how much Rachel inserted herself into Greek myth without ever absorbing its messages or cultural contexts, it was all about her and her feelings as a sad New Zealand girl with dyslexia who thought Persephone's story was about another sad girl being rescued from her "horrible childhood".

At worst it's an active attempt to play on people's heartstrings by drawing herself as a child who people will naturally not want to criticize. I don't want to assume she's doing it intentionally, I really don't want to leave her afterword on a bad foot, as I can definitely understand as both a creator and a person who struggled with learning disabilities in their own childhood how and why she wants to pay homage to her past and where she came from... but let's just say, as someone who's also gotten way too "lost in the sauce" concerning personal self-reflective projects, I think there's a lot to say about how this confirms that Rachel made LO entirely for herself, about herself, without any actual intention to respect the original myths, because she never truly separated them from herself when she was a child. And, in my humble opinion as someone who has Been There with the self-insert OC's and self-reflective angsty plotlines, I can fully attest to the fact that that's not fucking healthy. Even with personal projects, you NEED to learn to get your head out of the sauce, you NEED to learn to objectively separate yourself from the narrative so the story doesn't fall apart under your own hubris and ego, you NEED to learn to draw a line if you want to have any sort of identity as a human being outside of what you make for people. And that's with just normal original stories, this was a story based on Greek myth which doesn't belong to her.

And this goes for a lot of the things she's said and done in the past, so much of her own "sources" even are tethered to things that she read / watched in her childhood and only vaguely remembers, as if she never mentally left her childhood at all, which just... if the point was to highlight her past and the traumas she went through and how they contributed to her present, an Eisner isn't going to validate those experiences. And drawing attention to her past through the lens of her childhood self absolutely 100% does not absolve her of the negative effect her work has had on the modern Greek myth zeitgeist nor the things she's said and done as a 38 year old woman who should absolutely know better.

The community she entered and took from will forever remain changed by her influence and taking, in many ways not for the better. She has the privilege of walking away and never having to think about it again, with all the awards and accolades that were bought for her, the bravado that she built around being a "folklorist" with zero credentials, and the platform she was given over many other creators struggling to even be heard.

That "place" she claims to have now was built entirely on inserting herself into another culture's works and doing nothing but taking, taking, taking, while offering nothing in return but vanity and lip service. That "place" was paid for and brought to you by Webtoons.

[satoruhour]

nanami and geto=pulling hair

AHDJSKFMDKXJXUXU PLEASE I NEED THEM SO BAD IT HURTS

a/n: i dont write brat!reader often and i hate this but uhm .. :”) got inspiration for geto’s part from this fanart :3 also nanami’s inspiration here and here / tagging @jabamin @screampied @marimogf @redskyvenus @kizoken @osaemu @satorena @suguella @t4kio

wc: about 1.5k for each

warnings: hair pulling for both, fem!reader, brat!reader, geto is a lil rough, oral (m! receiving), deep-throating, semi-public sex, use of ‘slut’ (geto), tension, semi-public sex, a lil ooc nanami ig, use of ‘slut’, unprotected p -> v sex, squirting, breeding / creampie kink (nanami), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GETO

geto’s grip around your waist only tightens when you press up more against him in the crowded business convention, purposefully grinding your ass into his front that’s already sporting a hard-on that looks like it hurts.

but suguru is a master at keeping his feelings in, like how this business partner of him is boring the shit out of him and how much he wants to push you to your knees in front of everyone and shove his cock in your mouth.

“don’t you wanna just do away with all this pretentious shit? spread me open and give a show to everyone in this boring ass convention?” you whisper against his skin with your head craned up just to see how his jaw tenses and he almost drops his flute of champagne, “hm? don’t you want everyone to know how good you make me feel?”

“behave, sweetheart.”

“no,” you giggle, and geto rolls his eyes with a small smile on his face. you know it’s all fun and games; he loves taming the brat in you, but the brat in you is just begging to be punished, “you know you love me.”

“that, i can vouch for, but making me hard in public? i’ll need you to tone it down, baby.”

“but i want you, don’t you want me?” you’re pulling out all the stops, now, tits in full view from how he was behind you just scouring the many businessmen and women walking about and making small talk. even now, your hips torture him in the best way, rolling slowly and bit by bit.

“you’re riding a thin line here.” he warns with a peck to your hair.

“i’d rather be riding your dick, sugu . .” it’s whispered so tenderly, so softly, your hands skilled when they close over his that rest comfortably on your waist. “in our hotel room, or on the balcony, please . .?”

all geto manages is a strained, polite smile to the approaching mr. mamato who seems a little puzzled at the rejection, but with reassurance from the former, all is well. your lover has no qualms about keeping a tight clasp around your intertwined fingers, champagne flutes abandoned and heels clacking quickly against the floor to the lift lobby.

and you cast your spell again, getting back on your brat shit once the elevator doors close since it was quite a ride to the floor of the hotel. geto sighs quietly when you trail your hand along his belt and down the zip where there was a noticeable bulge and you squeeze, relishing in the silent gasp he lets out. you both know that once he looks at you, you two would have to be pried from the elevator so he settles for deep breaths.

but it’s all sloppy, wet kisses once he’s got you pushed against your suite’s door, multitasking hands zipping open your dress and pulling your bra past your tits and revelling in your perk, erect nipples. a small jump is muttered from his lips and you follow easily, propped up so perfectly where his mouth fits just around your nipple and that draws a loud moan, hips grinding against his torso for any kind of friction.

geto is strong, with one hand holding you, the other lands a spank on your ass and he releases your tits with a pop!

“what makes you think you deserve that?” you’re on the balcony by now, the breathtaking view of the many other touristy attractions right next to the hotel but geto would rather look at your defeated expression, doe eyes, pout and all.

“i’ve been goo—”

your lover’s hand from behind goes up to pull hard on your hair, forcing you to look up at him and he smiles when he spots your thighs rubbing together.

“don’t lie to my face, baby,” he lowers you to your knees and each breath feels like it could kill you. you love every second of it — geto commanding you, the dark of his eyes and the parting of his lips, “we both know you’ve been trying to toy with me since the start of the convention.”

“i didn’t say when—” you grin.

“and don’t play smart with me, little slut.” a small moan leaves your mouth at that, eyes flicking between his eyes and his other hand skillfully unbuckling his pants and you let out a little squeal when his cock’s removed from his underwear. he’s always so big and heavy that it slaps against your face and you grin, immediately sticking out your tongue and he feels his chest swell with pride just a little at your obedience.

and he releases your hair, reaching behind for his cigs and lighter. the air fills with the familiar odour of nicotine, “suck.”

you do, planting your hands onto his thighs and making a big show of whatever you wanted to do, but you’re only suckling on his tip, smiling through the pre-cum that slips past your mouth. he’s quite lenient, letting you tap his tip on your tongue and stroking him with both hands alongside small groans, but it’s not what he wants.

“do you want to suck me off or not?” geto whispers, almost like a threat. cigarette in mouth, he grabs your jaw and it squishes your cheeks, “hm?” he gives you one last chance when you nod so adorably, mouth messy with pre and your saliva that he just wants to bend you over and fuck you dumb.

but when you go back to teasing him — tugging on his balls, keeping to sucking harshly on his tip (even if it feels so damn good), looking up through your eyelashes like you’re not doing anything is when he’s getting a better hold on your hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail and scoffs.

you’re really in for a treat, now. there’s no warning before he pulls on your hair and brings you in again, smiling when he hears you gag at how deep his cock had reached in your throat. he coos inwardly when he sees that there’s already tears forming, but all you have on your face is a little sick grin and so he continues his assault.

geto pushes and pulls, leaving you no choice but to bob your head along his veiny shaft with very little time to breathe. it’s too intoxicating each time you’re up to the hilt, pubes smelling like sweat and Louis V cologne as you moan continually against him, sending vibrations up his body. you know his body like the back of your hand that you know every twitch of his dick, every jerk of his hips into your warm, inviting mouth.

“f-fuck . . maybe she does know how to use her mouth properly,” he mumbles, eyes fixated on your smudging eyeliner while your mouth is stretched out to accommodate him.

“su— mmfgf—!” suguru leaves you no time to breathe, guiding you roughly with your hair while he continues to smoke without a care in the world, not caring that the sounds of you choking on his fat cock could probably be heard by the neighbouring suite rooms. in a feat of defiance, again, you come off of him with a giggle, saliva strings connecting you and his dick, but he’s having none of that.

with one forceful thrust, geto shoves his cock into you, enjoying the corners of your eyes welling up with tears as you gargle and sputter, breathing hard through your nose. “i told you, do it properly. need ya to learn your lesson.”

you look truly pathetic like this, on the balcony floor of the hotel you were just in the function room for, but now you’re stuffed full of your boyfriend’s length, hands periodically squeezing his thighs. he grunts out your name, mixed in with little groans and pants of just how much your mouth resembled your pussy, drunk on the way his tip feels at the back of his throat.

“mmm . .” you hum, more used to the feeling now when you’re feeling him twitch and pulse in your mouth and you make sure to swirl your tongue, keeping eye contact with him.

“just— just like that, shit . .” suguru’s grasp on your head loosens with each step closing to his orgasm, putting out his cig just so he could focus on you and you only, “take it, take my cock down your throat like a filthy slut.”

geto’s shivering, hunched over your figure while you take the chance to move your head a little, slurping up all the saliva with hands squeezing over and over, sending your lover’s senses into overdrive. it doesn’t take long until he’s cumming down your throat with your head held to the base of his pelvis, heart clenching when he feels your muffled moans and then sees his overflowing cum.

“let me see . .” he asks absentmindedly, feeling just a little bad at the way you’re breathing so hardly, but he knows you don’t mind when you wrap a hand around his cock again, milking him for what he’s worth and sloppily sucking the mingling of saliva and cum from your skin. you’re quick to get back to sucking again, desperate for dick, and geto knows he’s found his perfect half.

✶ NANAMI

“these curses really need to stop emerging,” you frown with a groan, stuck in a never-ending meeting with yaga and nanami. in front of you were books littered with information about curses from the edwardian era, noting a similarity in both appearance and powers in the increasingly threatening curse that spawned in okinawa. so far, research has been scarce, providing for anything but the information you were looking for.

all the while, nanami’s looking at you through goggles, hiding behind the translucency of it as the open page of his tattered book is left abandoned only because he was so distracted by you.

you were stuck in a weird place with nanami — always getting stuck in precarious situations, mingling breaths, beating hearts to the point where you’d wanna throw up. you both knew relationships were a farce in the world of jujutsu sorcery, but even so, to deny the way you were the first one he’d check up on whenever you finished missions . . you might be falling off the deep end sooner or later.

“perhaps it would be wise to take a break, for lunch at least,” yaga only sighs, rubbing at his temples from his similar conquest, but none of you were actually able to match the photos to the drawings drawn up by sorcerers of the past. he takes the chance to leave the room for some food at the pantry, leaving just both you and nanami and the tension goes up by a hundredfold.

you don’t exactly hate it, but it becomes exceptionally clear when the universe seems to be against you from the first hour of research. from dropping your pen right in front of nanami that allowed a peek of your chest, to your printed photos flying right to the chair beside him, reaching over his whole body to retrieve them.

nanami is dying to smell you, again.

it’s loads of reading, glad for the knock of the door as you answer the call of the first-year students right outside the office, closed to a small gap since yaga asked you two to keep it confidential, but with the way you’re sticking out your ass . . he swears he can feel himself harden. before long, he’s hearing you bid goodbye to the three of them before your bracelet comes loose and it falls, and the sound of metal against wood is so loud that he’s glad he’s heard it.

because nanami’s attention is once again drawn to your plump ass, and he’s sure you’re doing this all on purpose with the way not one part of your legs are bent, and he can just see the peep of your panties. his skin burns.

“they wanted to know if they could help in any way,” you laugh when you return, albeit a little awkwardly after that whole thing you pulled. you weren’t even sure if nanami would look — he was a man set on ending work at 6pm and would want to do as much work before then, for god’s sake, so when all he does is nod curtly, you’re swallowing your feelings, not wanting to risk everything again.

once the clock strikes 6, nanami’s the first to stand, excusing himself with a bow, but not before he’s passing you a piece of paper folded carefully. so meticulously that he wanted you to open it without yaga seeing, pleasantly surprised when you see his graceful hand write out see me in the library.

you think nothing of it, taking the books that were from the library and making up some excuse of going to continue in there to yaga who waves you off with a grateful thanks, a yelp drawn from your throat when you see nanami just hovering beside the door frame.

he looks like he’s about the throw up — one look at his trousers tells you otherwise, breaking that barrier when you step closer to him courageously. “i don’t think we should waste any more time, dear (y/n).” 

“what do you mean?” nanami has such a way with that voice of his, that you let him take the heavy books from your hand without any fight, without any resistance, gasping softly as he grabs your waist almost timidly. but you have been dancing around each other for too many months, and everything just felt right.

“you know what i mean, doll.”

every minute nanami spends with your body becomes more and more intense, first starting out with a soft and gentle question to rougher, sloppier kisses, and down to your body right to your cunt where he stroked himself whilst eating you out; and the way nanami fucks, god. he’d take his time but . .

“wanted this fuckin’ pussy for so long, f-fuck . .” nanami groans, body flush against yours while he pounds into you from behind. the library definitely is not soundproof, but after seeing your pretty panties and tasting your cunt, sinking his fat cock into your hole was just perfect and god forbid he held back on the first time.

“k—kento . . please—!” the tatami mats of the school’s library were looking like crap, no doubt from the lack of use of this place, but you use it to your heart’s content, soaking the mats with your mixed juices and sweat. but that meant you had no anchor to hang on to, grasping and scratching at the floor for anything when nanami angles his hips and sucks hickeys into your neck from behind. “love it, wan’ more, wan’ more—”

“yeah? pretty little slut wants more?” nanami’s head spins at the way your hips move back onto his as well, head turning and nodding just so you can look at the man who’s blowing your back out in his alma mater’s library, hair tousled and sweat lining his brow. “after teasing me these few months — s-shit — can i really give it to her?”

he speaks with a strain, hypnotising hands moving up and down your back and onto your ass, spreading it just so he could see the way you take him, pussy stretched and all. nanami lets out a shaky breath, not believing that whatever he’s always fantasised about is coming true, and right after this, he’s sure to get you a bouquet of flowers and a decent day out, not before a morning after pill though.

“you’re so mean . . teasin’ me, showin’ me your panties,” he gives your ass a smack, groaning out loud at the recoil, “what makes you think ’m gonna give it t’you?”

all you had to do was look up at him with doe eyes, using a weak, flailing arm to grab out for him but failing and he finds it so goddamn cute that he smiles to himself and succumbs anyway, chuckling as he runs his hands down your back. although, they don’t stop there — they find your hair and he twines your locks around his fingers and pulls, prompting a loud whine from you.

“ken—!” your pornographic moans are downright obscene, together with the messy mix of your cum and his pre all around your core, it was truly disgustingly filthy, “f-fuuckk . . yes, r-right there!”

nanami all but follows your sounds, triggering your arch with such a strong pull on your hair that the pain translates into pleasure. with his knees, he nudges your legs to open even more and you cry out his name at how deep his throbbing cock reaches in you, gummy walls sucking him in and clenching around his length so harshly.

“pussy’s just so good to me, god,” he moans, feeling so hot in his work outfit that wasn’t even fully stripped down. his blue work shirt is soaked, as with his trousers, full of your cum that’s starting to form a white ring around the base of his shaft. he purposefully pulls on your hair to meet your lips, murmuring onto your skin, “’m close, baby.”

nanami’s thrusts are accurate, precise, hitting all the sweet spots in you relentlessly until you’re saying incoherent sentences, thighs already starting to shake until he starts rubbing at your clit. the sensations overwhelm you; the still strong tug of your hair, the pap! pap! pap! of his hips against your ass, the circles on your clit that matches the thrusts — and you’re cumming and squirting with a lax jaw and eyes that roll to the back of your skull.

“c-cumming, kento— ’m cummi—!” you babble, hips grinding back onto his for more even when you’re spraying juices all over, whole body convulsing from the climax, “s’good, s’good—”

just seeing you fall apart from his cock has him reaching his high, hips stuttering into your warm pussy to pump you full of his cum and he makes sure you catch every last drop, the hand tangled in your hair pushing right down on your head into the tatami mats.

nanami catches the ghost of a smile on your face before your body moves against his, again, using your own hands to spread your cheeks just to make sure he sees the cum he’s planted in you.

[writingsfromhome]

In Plain Sight

A/N: I wanted to play with the idea of 2 characters falling in love at different points in a story and what that would be like on each side. Idk if I fully captured what I wanted but I liked writing from harry/reader pov like this even though I kept switching partways lol.

Would love to know for inspo purposes—how do you know you’re falling?

———————————————

This is a first, you thought as you and Claire walked into the art gallery—one of your friends had a show of their unique pieces, mixing tech with traditional art. All of it was inspired by their partner, the lead in an indie pop band so to tie it all together they were playing at the gallery while the pieces hung on the walls, rippling with their programmed light and movement.

Take a posh gallery and stitch it with a rave. That’s kind of what it looked like in there.

“Guess I didn’t need to look so fancy,” Claire says in your ear. You two had spent the last half hour sorting your closets to figure out what was art-show appropriate.

“Let’s find Mimi,” you shout back.

You weave through the crowds, staying on the outskirts and spot her all the way up the front by the stage. You both agree to find her later and opt for a drink instead.

“Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight,” Claire comments as a tall guy brushes by, eyeing the length of her with a smirk before walking away. “Maybe you will.”

“That’d be nice,” you sigh. You hated being the chronically single one of your friends but that’s just how it went. Well it went beyond that—you felt unlucky in love.

Every relationship you poured yourself into and every relationship failed, just like that.

You were unloveable, maybe. You were lonely, definitely. So you’d take the warmth of a stranger where you could get it.

“I have an idea,” Claire says. “We dance our way through the crowd, I’ll be your wingwoman and we can make our way through towards Mimi. You’re so going home with someone tonight.”

You hold your glass up in agreement, you’d learned to just go with Claire’s ideas. Somehow they never worked in your favour, but that’s what you got for having a best friend that was a smokeshow. It used to bother you, but now in your late 20s after seeing Claire go through men like she went through shoes, it didn’t matter. The guys she went for also wanted a fun time like her. You wanted someone in it for the long run.

The men who felt the pull of her magnet were never meant for you anyway.

It felt mature, to think like that.

As Claire pulls you in, you find yourself dancing with male body after male body, hands on parts of you you barely touched yourself. You feel the familiar hollowness of loneliness. It was a constant companion, and yet never made you feel any less lonely.

Across the room stand two guys, they both watch Claire throw her head back and laugh. The purple and blue lights from above dance over her skin, she looked like a muse come to life. Like she was born from this art gallery.

“Mate. She’s beautiful,” Harry, the taller of the two, comments.

“You gonna talk to her?” Dylan asks. “Because if you’re not…”

“Give me a sec,” Harry got stupidly nervous around beautiful women. Which was stupid because he interacted with them on a daily basis, but that’s probably why he was considered a bit shy by people who met him. Shy was the nice way of saying awkward.

The thing with Harry is that he grew up as a wallflower. But in his mid 20s he started earning the attention of women. Pretty women. He felt like his pot of luck had been filled and then some, and yet he only got lucky on occasion. The problem was he just didn’t know what to do with his newfound attractiveness. Even 5 years on.

“There she goes,” Dylan comments as their muse moves to the bar. “Go on.”

Harry swears under his breath but makes his beeline towards her before anyone else could swoop in.

“Hiya,” Harry slides in beside her and then curses. He should have gone for something more suave. “Can I get you something-“

“I already ordered,” she smiles and Harry confirms she’s more beautiful than any of the crazy art in this room.

“Well it’s on me.”

“Thanks,” she takes him in. He tries not to squirm or think about what impression he was making. “I’m Claire.”

“Right. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you Harry.”

“Likewise…So, erhm, you like dancing?”

She tilts her head, “I do. I was just down there.”

“I know.” Harry says. She raises a brow. Shite. “I mean like I saw you dancing. In the middle. You made it look like a fun time.”

“It is. Is dancing not fun for you?” She laughs. Her drink arrives and Harry pays for it orders for himself.

“I don’t do it a lot.” Harry taps his fingers on the bar. “I like the music part. That make you want to dance.”

She gives him that look. The look that told him he’d tipped the scales too far off to recover. Why couldn’t he just explain he made music? And dancing and making music went hand in hand. Why was that so hard to say??

“Well I’m going back in,” she announces. “Feel free to join.”

And of course he doesn’t. Because she would probably inch away from him if he did until the crowd swallowed her away.

“How’d it go? Make a good impression?” Dylan asks but Harry just downs half his drink and hopes that answers Dylan’s question. He’d made an impression alright.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the dancefloor you move to the heavy drums. This was one of your favourite songs by this group; it was on replay on your Spotify. The girl beside you grins at you and you both move in sync, shouting the lyrics. It’s more fun than you’d had with any guy here tonight.

When the band takes their break and a playlist replaces the live music, you try to find Claire. It’s surprising she doesn’t have a bloke already wrapped around her this late into the night.

“The line to the toilet is stupidly long,” she complains. “I don’t feel so good. Can we get air?”

“Of course,” you grip her arm and help her out. The night air is crisp compared to the recycled air inside. You take in a lungful.

“Hey,” Claire spots someone she knows and she moves towards them. You trail behind her as she walks up to two blokes smoking off to the side. “I never saw you dancing in there!”

The guy she’s talking to shrugs, his cheeks taking on a pinkish colour. He’s cute in a boyish way, but you reckon if he trimmed his hair and grew some scruff, he could be a lot more interesting to gaze at. A face that could hang in this art gallery, a soft pink light shimmering on the highs of his cheekbones.

His eyes clash with yours and you throw a friendly smile and make a conscious effort to join the group. You hadn’t heard what was said in the time you were admiring his face.

“I would if I hadn’t broken my foot a month ago,” the other guy says. He was a cold good-looking. Sharp features accentuated by a buzzcut. You could imagine him in an avant-garde spread of a magazine.

“Excuses!” Claire teases. She was good at this. “I was telling your friend here how fun dancing was, that he should join.”

“And he didn’t?! Harry, mate, we all know you dance.”

“Not the right setting.” He replies. Almost mumbles.

“Any setting is the right setting for dancing,” his friend says.

“Right!” Claire latches onto him, you knew her well enough she’d chosen her prey for tonight. “I feel like dancing is such a good release, any time music comes on my foot just-“

“Can’t hold it in right?” The other friend laughs. “Me too. When I’m on the tube I’m like how do I get into this without looking like a weirdo.”

Claire’s laugh crackles into the air. You smile, she was going home with him for sure.

You glance at Harry, he’s looking after her like a sad puppy. You’d seen that look too many times—dejected.

“I bet you wished you liked dancing more huh?” You tease, quiet so it doesn’t travel to the couple.

“Huh?” He looks at you like he just noticed you were standing beside him. “Oh. No?”

“Right.” Well this was awkward. “So you’re Harry. I’m y/n.”

“Oh sorry,” Claire says when she hears your name. “We’re so rude we just closed ourselves off to these two. This is y/n. and I just learned that this is Dylan.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dylan smiles at you. “Harry are you okay if we split?”

Claire looks at you, asking the same question with her eyes. You nod, and she smiles at you gratefully. Her eyes widen and she motions subtly with her head to Harry. You smile like it was a good idea but you know he wasn’t an option; he was one of Claire’s castaways. But she was too oblivious for that.

“Then there were two,” you joke, reaching for the familiar line. “Are you going back in?”

“In there?” He shakes his head. “We already said our goodbyes. I might just head home.”

“Oh okay. Did you know the artist?”

“I don’t. Dylan’s cousin is the lead singer in the band? We came by to support the show.”

“That’s nice.” You respond back even though he didn’t return the question. “I’ve worked with the artist actually—Jemima.”

“Cool. I take it you’re an artist yourself?” He asks, finally looking at you instead of around you.

“Yep. I do photography.”

A group of people exit the show and their noise drowns out whatever Harry was about to say. Without warning, like a valve opened, your chest fills with the ache of a feeling.

What am I doing here, you ask yourself. You’d come by to support Mimi, but you didn’t owe this guy anything. You should go home, do your usual routine of staring at the ceiling, hearing Claire come in late, try to drift to sleep, and then finally doing so.

Sometimes being with others felt more lonely than being alone.

“Anyway, it was nice meeting you Harry. I’m gonna head home.”

“Oh.” He seems surprised. “You’re leaving for home?”

“Well, yeah?” You shrug. “I’ve made my rounds, danced enough to need a gallon of water. My feet are telling me to go home.”

“You ladies talk about dancing and I feel like I missed out,” he laughs but it comes off kind of awkward and shy. It’s endearing.

You change your mind then—you imagine posing him at 3/4 angle and snapping him from below. Maybe a shot looking through his lashes. Something mysterious yet welcoming. The longer you got to know him, the more he shifted.

“Does that mean you want to go back in again?” You ask.

“Fuck it sure. If you come too. I don’t want to dance alone.”

“Why not? Have you never?”

“Danced alone?” He holds the door open for you and you go in. His energy seems to have shifted. He’s less awkward, more relaxed, but it still feels like you don’t have his full attention. Or maybe that was just your insecurities projected onto a beautiful man.

“I dare you,” you have to tip toe for him to hear you once you’re back in. You use both your hands on his back and guide/push him through the crowd. When you let go you open your arms wide.

He shakes his head and tries to grab your hands but you back away. “Dance!” You shout. “Let’s see.”

He laughs, his head weighing backwards like the ceiling could grant him some confidence, the length of his neck glistening with something you wanted to taste.

When he looks at you again you chant to dance and he shrugs away his shyness. Before you know it he’s moving until he’s actually in sync with the beat. You try not to be a creep, sneaking your phone out. He was a complete stranger but god the photo opportunity was perfect.

You manage two before he turns and finds you in the crowd again. He pulls you closer to him, nearly chest to chest.

“I should be a lot more drunk to be doing this.” He says in your ear. Goosebumps erupt down your arms.

Take it easy.

The two of you end up dancing for a few songs, laughing at new moves you put on. It becomes a contest to do a silly but serious move and you’re in stitches by the time the two of you stumble out.

“Jeez that was fun,” you lean against the brick fence a few buildings down. You were sweaty and out of breath, your body demanding hydration now.

“I have not done something like that in years. It was nice.” He grins. It feels like a secret. “Thank you for pushing me in.”

You felt like you should be thanking him, for the fun and for making you feel included tonight. But of course he ruins it when he opens his mouth next.

“You can tell your friend Claire I ended up dancing. It was a proper good time.”

“Yeah,” you fake a smile, the aching wound reawakening in your chest. “Maybe I will. I’m headed that way though, I’ll see you around Harry.”

His face falls for a moment, you can see him try to figure out asking you to stay but wondering why you’d gone so cold. You hated how a good looking man could fool you into thinking he could be smart. But this one was as daft as they came.

You wave and turn towards the direction of your station, feeling a bitter chill that wasn’t coming from the weather.

***

The next time you see Harry is about a month later. Claire had been seeing Dylan—they hadn’t labelled it according to her so it was still casual. But she felt good about it because he was having a thing at his flat and he’d invited her. So you join Claire since he’d extended the invitation.

“Maybe you’ll see his friend Harry.” She sings as you turn the corner to his street.

“I already told you nothing happened that night.”

“Maybe because you went home after having a marvellous dance-off with him!”

“He kinda got like soggy bread!” You complain. “If it weren’t for me the conversation would have gone stale.”

“Same here. When he spoke to me I mean,” Claire laughs. “Dylan did say he’s a bit shy. Just give him another chance.”

“He’s not interested-“

“You’re so harsh on yourself. Of course he would be! He’d be lucky to be with you…”

You let Claire launch into her tirade. Although you appreciated it, it ignored the fact that someone could just not be interested in you. Especially after fancying your friend first.

Dylan’s flat ends up being nicer than you thought, a lot of windows and fancy tech things around.

“Just call her,” you and Claire walk up to Dylan, Harry, and another guy. Dylan seems to be lecturing Harry on something.

“Call who?” Claire asks.

“Hey,” Dylan kisses her hello. “This girl Harry went to uni with. He bumped into her when she was walking her dog. Harry thinks they hit it off, but he refuses to call her!”

“Why not?!” You and Claire ask. Further proof he wasn’t into you.

“Well I friended her on Instagram and she’s just ignored it!” Harry explains.

“So? Maybe she doesn’t use instagram.” Claire offers.

“She does. I had Dylan request too and she accepted his.”

“Oh?” You notice the pitch change in Claire but nobody else does of course.

“I unfollowed her after,” Dylan says. Or maybe he did hear the change. Smart man.

The friends gathered in the room shift and flow around each other, you lose Claire pretty quickly after the hour mark like you usually did. Eventually it’s you and Harry again, sitting on the couch.

Just like soggy bread, he’s mostly silent with beer in his hand. You get tired of the silence so eventually you slide closer to him.

“So what’s with the girl from uni? Do you have history?”

“Huh?” He seems startled out of his thoughts. “Oh. Her. No we had a few classes, saw her at parties that sort of thing.”

“But it seemed promising when you saw her recently?”

“I think so?”

Poor Harry, he couldn’t even tell the difference.

“What about her number? Or try DM-ing her.”

“I don’t wanna be desperate.”

“Fine,” you think. “Nevermind. She’s probably not into you.”

“But she kept touching my arm,” Harry recalls. “Why would she touch me if she wasn’t interested?”

You look at his physique. It wasn’t anything extraordinary but you can see the temptation to touch his arms.

Meanwhile Harry watches you eye him. It was kind of funny to him. He didn’t know why Claire’s best friend always remained at the end of the night but she was easy to talk to so he didn’t mind. Better than pretending to be interested in whatever Dylan’s tech-bros were talking about.

He hadn’t actually seen Dylan in a while. Probably off with Claire, he thinks with a sigh.

“Yeah nevermind.” Harry hears you say. It’s then he realized he’d tuned you out while his brain had been running. And you had taken his sigh as a response to what you were explaining.

The conversation falls flat after that. And when Harry goes for another drink you decline, deciding it was time to head home.

Surprisingly, Harry says he could use the time away and walks you to the station. Claire was spending the night but mostly he just wanted out of the flat. Walking you a few blocks away was a good enough excuse.

***

A few weeks go by before you find yourself alone with Harry again. It was someone’s birthday, or two people’s. You forgot what exactly was the excuse you took to get out of the house. All you had to know was there were people and an open bar.

Again, you started off in a group but couples drifted away until the two of you remained. You had been standing in Harry’s blind spot so when the last couple leaves, he notices it was you.

“Hey.” Harry says to you but his eyes look out into the room, even his body faces the crowd’s direction. He should have known you were here after seeing Claire cozy up with Dylan.

It should make you feel shittier but you’re almost used to it. After a week of working from home hunched over your table editing photos for yesterday’s deadline you would take any social interaction. No matter how stale. Or soggy.

“Hey!” You elbow him so he looks at you at least. “It's been a while hasn’t it? How’s life treating you these days?”

“Yeah, it's fine.”

“Cool, yeah. Any exciting projects keeping you busy lately or…?”

“Not really. Just the usual keeping me busy right now. Same old routine y’know.”

“Right, right.” You could feel him slip away again. “Yeah. Work can be a drag. I’m pretty sure I gave myself scoliosis being hunched over for 10 hours a day this week. I’d rather fold laundry than do that again, and you probably don’t know this, but I absolute hate folding laundry. But yeah that’s my thrilling life. Anything you've been doing in your free time?”

“Nah. Just trying to stay on top of work.”

“Right.” He was the busiest man on earth apparently. “So everyone at the party’s talking about the new Love Island season. You watch it?”

“Not really into TV these days. Busy with work and all that?”

“Right. You mentioned. I did too.” You nod. “I had a lot of deadlines this week so very busy too. Busy busy. I actually got so stir-crazy I started talking to my plants? It felt silly, but my nan was saying it does help them grow so…it’s a win-win. Or maybe it’s the isolation makes you appreciate the little things…”

“Right.” Harry nods along. He’s looked at you twice this whole time. Well, glanced was more like it. And suddenly you want to scream because it was utterly unfair that you only knew him at any of these godforsaken parties. And he never wanted to talk to you, or cared to.

You’d seen him with Dylan, even with Claire! He was more animated and interested then, even though he stammered through half of it. Was there something wrong with you that put you in gray-scale in this crowd of colourful people?

You’re not Claire, the stupid voice in your head reminds you.

I didn’t need to be Claire, you remind yourself.

“So what about that girl you fancied?” You try to ask him something he might be interested in; you hated how desperate you were getting for company. “From uni? Anything come of that?”

“What?” He finally looks at you. “Oh her. No she uhm. Well embarrassing but she has a bloke. I misread the whole thing-“

“You said she was all touchy!”

“Yeah she was wasn’t she?” He scratches his head. “I dunno, i suppose she’s always been like that. So yeah, nothing happened there.”

He chuckles like he’s embarrassed, yet the smile brightens his face. It makes you a little more upset and you don’t know why.

“Maybe you dodged a bullet. Anyway. I’m gonna make some rounds. I’ll catch you around-“

“What?” He actually turns to you now. “Why?”

“What?!”

“Why you leaving?”

“I’m not leaving. I’m just doing a circle. And getting another drink.”

“Oh,” his shoulders drop a little. You’re confused, because he didn’t seem interested in having you around at all until you were leaving. “Good.”

“I didn’t think you’d miss me if I was gone with your half-ass answers.” You say before you can think. He looks a little stupefied.

“Half-ass?”

“Or were you just being a whole ass?”

“Huh?” He closes the gap between you again. “I was listening to what you were talking about.”

“Yeah. Just listening. It felt like having a conversation with paint while it dried.”

“I’d think that’s better than houseplants?”

You’re a bit stunned—he had been listening. But still. He wasn’t keeping up conversation.

“Now see if you made a joke about it back then it would have been funny. A back-and-forth conversation? Now it’s just a desperate attempt to keep me around. I don’t know what for.”

“It’s not desperate,” he argues. “I didn’t realize you’re so needy.”

You raise a brow, “I am not needy.”

“I think you are,” he grins and with his full attention on you and that stupidly smarmy grin you feel that pull again. Too bad it was just one-sided.

“I’m not. I’ll prove it by leaving your presence for good tonight. See you next time Harry.”

“Don’t be like that,” he calls after you. “And I like to keep you around because I thought we were friends!”

Your stride falters as you’re walking away. You weren’t expecting him to say that.

But wasn’t he just friends because both your friends were dating each other?

What are you even doing here with these people, the thought comes back to you again. The same one that always floated through your mind being in these sorts of places.

If Claire wasn’t dating Dylan you wouldn’t even be here. God, you needed to hang out with friends other than Claire.

***

You unwrap the belt that ties your coat closed and drop it all to the floor. Well not all, your cameras get let down gently.

Your shoulders ached. And your back and your head and your arms. Jeez.

You had a wedding gig that was paying most of this month’s rent, so you had to take it. The only thing is your job started at 6am and ended at 8pm. That was more than half a day and you were spent.

“Hey you’re home!” Claire waves at you as you pass her. She has her phone held out in front of her face, you hear Dylan’s voice on the other end.

“Is that yn? Hii!”

“Hi,” you croak to Dylan. Claire juts her lip out at the sight of you.

“I’ve already done dinner,” she says over the top of the screen. “I’m going out with Dylan and some friends later you wanna come?”

You shake your head. She knows what a low battery yn looked like.

“Okay fine. Leftovers are in the fridge for you.”

“God I love you,” you tell her as you close your bedroom door behind you and collapse into bed.

You liked it when Claire was happy in a relationship, or whatever she called them, but when she wasn’t these were the nights she’d follow you into your room after a big shoot and ask about the details. And you’d complain about the pushy customers eventually moving to how beautiful everything was. She was usually the first person to see your raw images.

But tonight while she talks to Dylan you turn on your humidifier and let the low hushing noise lull you into a relaxing trance. You remember that you only had yourself. That you had to learn to be happy with that, lonely or not.

***

Claire promised to do kitchen duty for the whole week if you came out to Jemima’s partner’s gig. And you couldn’t deny a week of no dishes or meal prep, so you drag your ass out the door despite riding on 4 hours of sleep for the last few nights. But you met your deadline this afternoon so this was as good of a celebration as any. Even if it was a Thursday night.

“So you and Dylan are getting serious huh?” You ask Claire on the tube over.

“Kinda?”

“It’s been over 3 months. Half the time you were with you know who.”

You-know-who, her one relationship that actually meant something to her. Crashed and burned two years ago.

“No,” she blushes. “It’s just, he’s pretty great but we don’t really talk about labels.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Guys always run when you do.”

Do you want that sort of guy, you want to ask. Instead you shrug, “let them.”

She rolls her eyes, accustomed to your biting remarks around men.

The gig is electrifying as soon as you arrive. It gets you moving and your sedentary body remembers it has more flex in it than just your wrist. You’re alive and sweaty a few hours later, happy that you went.

“Hey,” Claire says when you drift back to her. “Dylan said the drummer’s inviting some friends to the place she’s staying at. Wanna come?”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” You were high on just being out and around people, the loneliness had been kept at bay, and you didn’t want to ruin that by going home just yet.

The drummer’s place is the bottom floor of a quaint house near Portobello. Most people are already there by the time you trail in behind Claire and Dylan.

“Look there’s Harry!” Claire shouts, pointing to the figure that was become too familiar to you. He’s listening intently to the couple in front of him. Nice to know he could do that.

You flash her a thumbs up. But her and Dylan start walking towards them. Ugh!

You eye the room, thinking you could make a run-in with alcohol instead of Harry but he looks up at the approaching couple and catches your eye. He waves.

Whatever.

The four of you eventually find a quieter room, mostly because there was a hookah circle going on and everyone there was talking in hushed voices. A stark contrast to the volume in the den.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you here.” Harry says when the two of you find yourselves alone again.

“Why not?”

“You didn’t show the last couple times we all hung out. I thought you were tired of us.”

“Maybe I am.” You raise your brow. “Did you miss me?”

“Hey!” Dylan appears in front of you two again before he could answer. “Nish is here, I heard.”

“Nish?” Harry becomes all fidgety.

“Who’s Nish?” You have to ask.

“Someone we know,” Dylan says. You look for Claire and she’s making her way to you. But before she gets there another body steps towards your group.

“Hi! Harry look at you—and Dylan, is it just me or you look more hideous than last time?” The girl cuts in and you take a step back instinctively. The group felt overcrowded.

You watch the two boys hug the new girl, Nish you assume, in greeting.

Claire approaches the group with curiosity.

Introductions are made and Dylan offers to show Nish the drinks.

Then there were three.

“She’s pretty,” you comment. You know Harry agrees what with how much he resembled a ruler.

“Yeah,” he nods stiffly.

“So were you at the gig Harry?” Claire changes the subject. “It was amazing.”

“Yeah! I was there with Dylan and some friends. Surprised I didn’t see you two.”

“Were you dancing?” Claire teases.

“I was,” he blushes. He glances at you. You recall that first night when the two of you had a lot of fun just dancing. “Maybe that’s why I missed you guys.”

You give a small smile at the in-joke. He looks back to Claire.

You all talk about the gig, and then a little about someone similar Harry was working with.

Eventually Claire wonders aloud where Dylan had gotten to and leaves.

And then there were two.

“I get this feeling something’s going to happen,” you say.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks.

You shrug, you didn’t quite know. The whole night was moving so fast, especially after the gig. You just had a sense you missed something and it was bothering you.

“Have you got a drink yet?” Harry asks.

“No, maybe I should.”

“Me too. I’m done mine. I think I want another.”

As you walk down the hall to where it might logically be, you hear a shout. Your stomach drops. Was this it?

“I’m sorry wait!” Someone shouts over the noise. The overall noise dies down a bit quieter. “It’s not what it-“

“Fuck off! I’m done!”

“Shite,” you recognized Claire’s voice anywhere. You rush past Harry and towards the voices.

You find Dylan shirtless and holding it against his chest. Nish is a little ways behind him, hair a lot messier than when you last saw her. Buttons undone on her dress.

You notice the lipstick on Dylan’s neck. A colour Claire would never wear.

Everything snaps into place.

You rush to Claire and try to comfort her but she hurls more insults towards Dylan over your shoulder. You manage to get her out of his sight and she fights you too, she was seething with anger.

“He’s a dick!” She screams. “Why did I think he was going to be any different oh my god! I shouldn’t have let him go alone with her, what was I thinking? Yn! Why didn’t you stop me!”

You knew it was all rhetorical. Claire rarely took romantic advice from you.

“He tried to say we weren’t even a couple I-“ her voice catches and then comes the tears. You pull her in, familiar with the routine. Next would be feeling sorry for herself, then the anger again, then telling you she needed to be alone. Then a few hours would pass before she crawled back to needing comfort again.

And it happens just so.

“I don’t need a mother right now!” Claire says as you convince her to stay with you. To head home. “I just need to clear my head! I’m sorry okay I just want to be alone!”

And you let her go.

And now you had to kill time.

You find a beer and down it. Someone nearby asks you what the drama was about and you strike up a conversation that ends in them trying to kiss you. Ew.

You wander until you find Harry again. He’s surprised you’re still here. Asks where Claire was but as you respond one of the girls from the band recognizes Harry—you’re pretty sure her name is Kate. Soon enough you’re sidelined while they talk about something you knew nothing about.

Well fuck him too, you think miserably.

You grab one of the few remaining cans and head to the back of the house. Past open doors and closed doors. The closed door intrigues you at the end of the hall.

The doorknob is stuck so you wiggle it. Probably locked.

You were tired. God, you were tired of it all.

In a moment of anger you bang your shoulder against the door and magically it opens.

It wasn’t locked, just stuck due to age.

Same, you think.

Inside is the smallest room you’ve ever seen. The size of 1.5 closets. There looks like a childs bed, the walls are covered in posters, and there’s a small set of drawers with a guitar resting on top. It’s cramped but cozy, something about it feels familiar.

You step inside and close the door.

Down goes another beer.

You hope the person who owned the room didn’t mind you crashing it. You lay in bed and let out a big sigh. And then another. It felt good. Cleansing.

You listen to the noises outside, people laughing and talking. You think about Claire. About yourself. All of your several issues combined. The dull ache of loneliness starts in your ribcage and spreads out.

The door handle rattles a few times but eventually you realize nobody’s angry enough to smash it open like you. Most people assumed it’s locked and leave.

You’re taken by surprise then the door does creak open a smidge.

Distant light travels through to paint a multi-coloured line across the floor and over the bed. You lift your fingers to touch it but it feels like everything else.

“Of course you’re in here; I wondered where you went to.” Harry reveals his face by opening the door wider, poking his head in. It looks like it’s floating and the image almost makes you laugh. Almost.

“Why?” You ask in your most disinterested voice.

He takes the question, despite it dripping with apathy, as an invitation. The door remains opened a crack, now just with Harry on the inside.

“Because you disappeared.”

“You started talking to Kate so I made my exit. Did she go home?”

“No.” He inches closer after closing the door. You have no idea how he knew exactly where you were and how to get in. With the door closed it’s not so dark that you can’t make out his figure. But he’s a shadow in the dark.

“Can you sit or something? It’s kind of creepy having you hover like that in the dark.”

“Sorry,” he laughs and again, he overextends the invitation and lays parallel to you. He’s close, with the bed being so small. Your ache spreads. “Kate’s dancing with another bloke.”

“Poor Harry.” You mock. “Every pretty lady wants to dance with someone else.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I have this special ability to read between the lines.”

“Well my specialty is reading between the sheets.”

The comment lands like a third person on the bed. It’s a withering creature a cross between a baby and a calf. He scoops it off with, “sorry. I really don’t know where that came from.”

You laugh. It was so silly for something so bold to come out of his mouth.

“It’s fine. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be that bold before. Usually I just watch you fumble around and finish up thoughts inside your head instead of out loud-“

“I do do that don’t I?”

“You said do do,” you giggle.

“Very mature.”

“Very manure.” Your giggles turn into a laugh, something’s cracked inside of you and it feels funnier than it probably is.

Harry nudges you with his elbow and it silences your laugh. It’s abrupt, and he notices. “Why’d you come in here anyway?” He asks. “I thought you’d be with Claire.”

“Were you looking for her? You could be with Claire now y’know,” you say. Some part of you knew you’re tipsy and you should shut up but in the darkness your cutting words feel blunted.

“What’s that mean?”

“Dylan the dick—that’s his new nickname just fyi. He fumbled the bag. She’s free for the taking now.”

“I feel like this violates some sort of girl-code. Shouldn’t you be warning me away?”

You scoff, “Harry don’t be coy. Everyone knows you tried to get together that first night we all met. You always look at her like a lost puppy.”

“I don’t.”

“Do so.”

“What’s it to you?“

You shrug. He’s close enough to feel it.

You were upset tonight. Angry. Angry at Dylan for being another a-hole. Angry at Claire for putting yet another man on a pedestal with all his potential he could never reach. They hadn’t labelled themselves for 3 months, what did she expect would happen?

Mostly you were upset at yourself. Because a part of you watched Claire put herself out there over and over, and you were upset that you couldn’t do the same. That your shallow bruises compares to Claire’s gashes had kept you locked up in your bedroom.

You admit it to yourself then: you kind of liked Harry. And you totally and absolutely hated it.

Because you watched him watch Claire, fumble his words with every woman you catch him with, push him away just so you don’t potentially get hurt. A part of you knows he wouldn’t like you like that. He treats you like you’re part of the furniture half the time. He’s given no indication of the sort. And you just weren’t the kind of girl to leave a confession like that hanging. You didn’t want a public unrequited crush.

It comes again. The wave of loneliness, the feeling that nobody ever has or ever will understand you. That you were an island with no dock, a house with no door. You were unknowable, and unforgettable.

“Why don’t I ever hear about your relationship exploits?” Harry suddenly asks. You forgot he was there and you startle. “Sorry were you falling asleep?”

“No.” You answer. “And because…because I’m not showy about that sort of thing. And it also doesn’t happen as often as you or Claire or Dylan the dick.”

“Wow the name’s really gonna stay.”

“Mhm.”

“Do you have a boyfriend now?”

“Nope.”

“What’s your last actual relationship?”

“A long time ago.”

“Me too.” He sighs. “My last proper girlfriend was in my early 20s. She moved city. We broke up after that, long-distance is hard. I feel like every year I age, I get worse at talking to women.”

“I can confirm.”

“Well not you. You’re easy to talk to.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly.

“Not like that.” He backtracks, sitting up as if you could see his face. “No not like that. You’re…nice. To look at. I don’t mean that I don’t see you as a women—because you are. I see that I uhm-“

“I think you’ll have to take back your previous statement.”

His head falls back on his pillow and he laughs, it sounds like he’s choking on air a little.

“Jeez, what was that?” He asks once he pulls himself together.

“Beats me,” you say with a smirk.

“It gets pretty lonely though right.”

You let his statement sit in the dark. You don’t agree or disagree. Doing so felt like admitting something vulnerable.

“Or maybe that’s just me.” He says after a while. “Maybe you have a great life and don’t fall in love with every other person you meet.”

“Do you actually?” Your interest was piqued.

“I can’t help it. I’m a musician, I just notice something small about them and suddenly a song is being written about them in my head without even realizing. So I just fall in love with a lot of random people. And I uhm, I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that to anyone!”

It was the dark. It was easier to be honest in it. No wonder churches kept their confessions in darkened corners.

You think about all the regular people you fall in love with every time you lift your camera to your face. How every person made you ache; there were whole worlds going on inside of them and you saw it all through the lens.

You wonder briefly if Harry ever wrote a song about you in his head but squash it. He barely took the time to look at you, definitely not long enough to notice you like you did him.

“Here’s my confession—same.” You try for the confession-in-the-dark thing. To make him feel better. “At least when I’m taking photos or making videos. Some people get camera shy but after talking to them they loosen up and getting to capture their whole essence in a picture or a video I just…makes me fall in love too. I like to imagine what everyone would be like in front of a camera. I dunno.”

“What a pair we make.” Harry reaches out and his hand brushes yours. You pull away, hating yourself while you do.

He clears his throat when you reject his bid to be closer, you feel his hand slide back to himself.

Harry didn’t know why sometimes it felt like you hated him and other times like you were friends. He just figured he didn’t understand women. On any spectrum.

“Y/n,” your name is loaded in the dark. You wait for him to continue but the silence stretches out.

“What?” You finally ask.

You feel the bed shift and move under you. He was turning. You feel his gaze on you. You turn your head to look back and he’s inches away. Alarms blare in your head, abort abort! But even in the darkness his eyes find some light to reflect.

Harry’s thinking the same thing about you. Somehow it’s dark but when you turn your head to look at him, your eyes twinkle with what little moonlight streams in from the window. Or maybe that was the streetlights. Either way, Harry wonders why it felt like this was the first time he’s ever seen you. How ironic that it’s in the dark too.

It happens without realizing, his mind starts to string together something about the girl laying in his bed shrouded in darkness, with light in her eyes. A girl with secrets-

The bed vibrates.

“Oh,” you turn away and take the intimate moment with you. You feel around and find your phone beside you. Claire’s face lights up the screen.

“Claire,” you sit up.

“I’m ready to go home,” Claire sniffles on the other end. “Where are you?”

“At the party. You’re still at the party right?”

“I’m just outside. I got some chips but I couldn’t find you so I finished them all.”

You laugh, “Lie. I know how you feel about sharing chips don’t worry.”

Harry watches you have this conversation. Your laugh finds its way right into his chest. He feels warm.

You look at him and hold your finger up, shimming off the foot of the bed.

“You bought two!?” You ask after Claire sniffles about how much she emotionally ate tonight.

“It’s your fault! I ate two because I couldn’t find you and they were getting cold.”

“Well I’m coming outside to save you now.”

You put the phone down and look back at Harry. He’s sat up in the bed and staring at you.

“I gotta go weirdo.”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Well…I dunno if we’ll see each other as much now that-“

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“So good luck? Until next time?” You laugh, but an awkwardness starts to creep in as Harry stays unresponsive and staring on the bed. “Uhm. Okay?? Bye…”

You leave Harry as he is. Did he get all weird because Claire was on the phone? Ugh. What a liar, you think. He was still just as obsessed with her.

You feel a little bad for goading him about it earlier but it doesn’t linger long. When you see Claire you gather her up in your arms and then the two of you set off arm-in-arm back to your small flat together.

***

“So what’s happening with Kate?” Dylan asks. Harry and him are sat at the pub a few weeks later, he’s already moved on from Claire to the girl on his arm. He didn’t know how his friend did it, if Harry had a girl like Claire he wouldn’t treat her like she was disposable.

But thinking of Claire didn’t have that same spark anymore. When he thought about it, she was beautiful and spirited, the kind of woman musicians like him write songs about. But there was someone else on his mind, the kind of woman someone could spend their whole career trying to compartmentalize into songs. Songs turning into albums. Only to find nothing beats her living spirit.

How could he be so dumb, he’d been beating himself up since that night in the dark. He’d had 3 months of being around her and he never actually looked at her. Always took her for granted. God, even that first night together had been the most fun Harry had had in ages. But he’d just turned her into a friend by proximity.

But weeks gone without her, knowing there was only pure chance of bumping into her, had made Harry a regretful heart.

“Hello? Did you scare her off?” Dylan asks.

“Nah. She’s not my type.” Harry responds.

“Harry I should set you up with one of my mates. She’d be perfect for you. She’s a teacher and…”

Harry listens to Dylan’s new girl describe a friend Harry couldn’t be arsed to go out with. All because he wanted something he couldn’t have anymore.

***

Harry runs into Claire at a pub a week later. His hopes soar as high as the sky when he thinks y/n might be here.

“Hi! Claire!” Harry awkwardly stops her as she walks past the bar where he sits. He was waiting for a few of his mates to watch the football match with. Dylan was luckily out of town today, otherwise this pub would have it’s roof blown off.

“Oh Harry hi,” she’s friendly. Harry didn’t think she’d be friendly towards him. She leans in for a hug. “How’ve you been?”

“Good! Ehm good yeah just making more music and stuff. You?”

“Better,” she rolls her eyes. “How’s Dylan the-“

“I’d rather not be in the middle. If that’s alright.” Harry says before he can think. He knew what his friend was, he didn’t want to talk about him.

“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Watching the game?”

“Sorta. My family’s down and I know y/n hates the ruckus my brothers make watching the game at home so I’m sticking them here.”

“Oh y/n’s not here?” Harry feels his hope evaporating.

“No. What’s the deal with you and her anyway? Why didn’t you ever…?”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah!”

“She’s not interested in me,” Harry laughs. He was also blind but he doesn’t say that.

“I mean, maybe not crazily but if you asked she would have said yes. She didn’t hate you.”

“Is that the standard now?” Harry jokes.

“It is with her,” she smiles with a look in her eye like there was more there. But of course, Harry doesn’t push.

“I…I dunno. I never thought she would be interested. It never occurred to me.”

“You’re such a guy,” she scolds. “You have anyone now or you’re still regularly putting your foot in your mouth?”

Harry flushes. “I don’t. And I don’t put my foot in my mouth.”

She rolls her eyes but the smile stays on her face. “Anyway, I’m grabbing the beers. I’ll talk to you later?”

Harry nods, suddenly unable to just ask for y/n’s number. Anything.

But as she walks away he realizes he’d had a whole conversation with Claire without overthinking or being a fumbling idiot once.

He thinks back, to the last couple weeks. He realizes it’s been a while since he’s done it.

Was I finally turning a corner, Harry thinks.

***

You had a gig today filming at a studio. Some indie duo but they were gaining popularity on Tiktok and wanted some bts footage of working in the studio for an upcoming music video. You weren’t going to ask questions. It paid decent money so you said yes.

You pull into the parking lot, grateful that Claire had a car you could borrow. It helped lugging around your equipment for videoshoots. Today it was just you as your PA was out sick. It wasn’t supposed to be a lot of angles so you figured it would be okay.

You consider the day a win by the time you pack up. The group were much younger than you but very outgoing and it made for a lot of funny and sweet footage. They also had amazing voices, you told them they were going on your playlists once you got home.

Your right hand goes weightless as you walk with your bags down the hall. You turn just as the helper speaks up.

“Looked like you could use a hand.”

“Harry I…what a surprise hi!” Your mood brightens at the sight of him, despite everything.

“Hi,” he shifts the bag in his hand to return your hug. His body is solid and warm. It made no sense but you missed something about him. “How was your shoot?”

“Really good! I was shooting a…wait how did you know?”

“I saw you in there?”

“I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah I um-“

“You had nothing to do with this right?”

“And if I did?” He meets your eye and you feel out of breath with whatever speaks through them. What was up with that?

“Uhmm I owe you a thank you!?!”

Harry offers a small smile, “I was looking at your work a couple weeks back. You’re really good. I just threw your name out to a few managers if they were looking for someone…”

Harry looks different with this new information. Or maybe this was a Harry that was actually paying attention to you, it was both intimidating and touching.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks.

“No! No, thank you I…that’s…I’m grateful. Thank you. Can I get you a drink to say thanks?”

“Okay cuz your face was all scrunched up. I thought you were pissed.” He laughs. “And I have some things to finish up-“

“Oh right, you’re probably busy-“

“No no I would love to. Get drinks. With you.” Harry grows more awkward as the air between you crackles with something electric. Maybe, he thought, this is what happens when two people are on the same wavelength.

“Ok. Well when do you finish?”

Harry doesn’t quite hear your question. His head feels flooded with sand and he can’t stop looking at you, right in front of him finally. Why did he never notice your eyes and the way they take him in, your sweetness, the easygoing tilt of your head, or how how disarming your smile was. He chalked it up to being an idiot.

“Wait what-“ he laughs, feeling the blood flush his face. He was doing that thing again, where his brain stopped thinking in the attention of a pretty girl. “What’d you ask?”

“When you finish?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy yourself. You can feel the element of nervousness from him and it made this casual moment feel more intense.

“Maybe half hour?” Harry scratches his nose. “Are you heading somewhere now? You can hang out with me and we can go together?”

You thought about getting to see him work, it sounded promising. “Sure!”

Harry wipes his palm on his jeans and walks ahead, leading you down the hall and to the right. He opens it to a recording studio, gesturing to the chairs and taking the seat behind all the buttons. You set your things down and stand by the panel, curious what each of the controls did.

Harry glances up at you and you shoot a smile, about to ask if it was okay you watch, but he goes back to work just as quickly.

He was working on something that sounded like a pop song. You try to make out all the layers on the software he was using, it kind of looked the same when you edited a video. But there’s too many layers to distinguish.

Eventually you sit back down, admiring Harry in his element. Your mind drifts, and you wonder if everything that happened out in the hallway was a figment of your imagination or Harry was being weird with you. Because the thing about Harry being weird meant he was in his head about one thing.

You wonder, like you did every so often, what could have happened that night in the dark the last time you saw him if Claire hadn’t called. Harry had looked at you like he had just met you—with a good curiosity.

But then again, this was the same Harry that probably looked at Claire with the same look.

“Done.” Harry turns in his swivel chair with a grin an hour or so later.

“Great!” You shake off your thoughts and set your laptop down.

“Did you want to leave your things here?”

“I have a car I can put them in?”

“The place I was gonna take you to isn’t that far from here.”

So you agree, and leave your equipment in the studio. The two of you walk out, talking about what he was working on. He asks you about your shoot today and the conversation carries you to the pub he had picked out.

Conversation starts to fizzle out as you tuck into your booth seat.

“What you guys getting today?” The waitress appears almost instantly, it startles you.

You look at the menu and to her. She’s got a beautiful face, round cheeks framed by micro bangs and night-black eyebrows that made her look permanently unimpressed. And yet her rosy cheeks and button nose were a friendly addition to the severity of the rest of her.

You glance at Harry, ready for him to be a bumbling idiot around her. He glances at you from the menu when he senses you looking over and for a second you feel the loneliness creep in. Despite the warm smile he sends your way.

“Can we get a few more minutes?” Harry asks her. She pockets her things without another word and walks away.

“What’s good here?” You ask to fill the silence.

The two of you go over the menu and by the time the waitress returns you’re ready. You watch Harry ask her questions and place the order, confident and direct. His eyes slide to yours every so often and each time they do you feel your resolve slip a little more.

“What’s changed then Harry?” You tease when she leaves. You tease, but you seriously want to know. “I thought you’d be a puddle of words around a woman that gorgeous.”

“Her?” Harry glances back. “I guess. I’m not such a mess.”

“Oh you so are.” You laugh. “You’re all ums and uhs.”

“I’m…fine. I’m not so bad anymore!”

“Yeah so? What happened?”

He looks at you with such a serious look that your smile dies down.

“Drinks,” the waitress places them down on the table, saving the both of you from whatever would have come next.

“Thanks,” you tell her and pull the distraction towards you.

“Let’s just say,” Harry says after she leaves. “I gained some perspective.”

You raise an eyebrow, not wanting to push it any more. “Okay.”

For the first time in a while, your nerves overtake the anxious discomfort you usually lived with. Something was definitely happening here—you weren’t hallucinating. But you weren’t sure where it was going, and if you wanted it.

Of course you want it, stop convincing yourself otherwise, you tell yourself.

Why did vulnerability feel like facing mount everest in just your pjs.

“I bumped into Claire a few weeks ago, she seems to be doing well.” Harry says and you can’t help but overanalyze for a heartbeat. He’d brought Claire up after all.

“Oh she didn’t mention,” you reply.

“She was with her family? Said you kicked them out of the flat-“

“Oh!” You laugh. “Yeah her brothers get stupidly rowdy when the football’s on. This one time I had an interview early the next morning and—this was before I knew how loud they could get. And I was up. Until 2am nearly to tears! Finally I snapped, they call it the y/n-geddon. Then of course I felt so bad I couldn’t sleep for another two hours. Now we just draw boundaries.”

Harry laughs at your story. “Sounds scary. Now it makes sense though.”

“Better for everyone,” you laugh. “But yeah. Claire’s been good, it was nice her family was down she’s always more herself when they do.”

Your food arrives and you put the conversation on pause as you tuck in.

“How about you?” Harry asks. “Your family?”

You tell him about your family and the conversation moves on to moving out, living in the city. It branches out naturally like a tree, and both of you relax into each other’s company.

It was really nice, you admit to yourself. It felt like talking to an actual person rather than the shell of someone. Which is how it felt like talking to Harry in the past. The only soggy bread was the butty dipped in your soup.

You pay, as you insist it was to thank him for the help. It’s cooler out when you had back to the studio for your things and there’s more people out; those free of their office jobs and roaming for a drink to relax into.

The studio’s empty and you head towards your bags, asking Harry if he was heading home too.

“Yeah, I’ve been here since 6 so I think I’m ready to go home.”

“Shite that’s early!”

“Deadlines!” He sighs. “What can ya do.”

“Can I give you a ride somewhere at least?”

“If you’re going in the direction of the station I’ll hop in.”

“Yeah sure!”

“Good thing you have a car with all that equipment.”

“Yeah my thoughts this morning. But that reminds me of all the footage I have to edit.” You say. “Thanks to you.”

“Anytime. Anytime y/n. I’m gonna keep whispering your name around. You’ll be fully booked soon just watch and see.”

“You don’t have to,” you set your things back on the ground. It didn’t seem like Harry was in a hurry to get out.

“I want to,” he replies seriously. The room feels smaller than it did seconds ago, or maybe the awareness of Harry’s proximity tightened the space between you.

“Thanks,” you try to meet his eye as you say it but it’s hard to. His gaze strips away any doubt you had; his feelings are written all over his face. All you could think was: Holy Fuck what is this

“It’s my pleasure,” he says which just sucks any remaining oxygen out of the room.

When you’re on autopilot you don’t even think, you just go through the motions. That’s what it felt like, one second you’re standing opposite Harry. The next you’re standing right in front of him and his lips are on yours.

Maybe you just imagined this scene so much it became repetitive and now this—kissing him, felt so familiar.

He’s nothing like the timid and awkward Harry you watch at parties and pubs. He’s sure of himself, kissing you in the exact way to soothe your past aches; your loneliness is washed away like ocean tides over words etched in the sand. You get lost in it. In him.

You don’t know when his hands slide around your waist and pull you in. His lips are soft and gentle. Your mind blanks as the sensation of being held, of his touch, spreads. You don’t realize you stop kissing back, just for a second, until he pulls away.

Harry takes a deep breath, face pink and brows furrowed. This felt right, but was he reading it wrong? He did that often.

You take a small step back, needing the space to process. It felt right, better than your imagination, and you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him.

“So um,” you bite your lip. “You still want that ride?”

“Where is it going?” He asks, the tightness in his chest easing a little when you look up at him, head tilted and a nervous expression on. He wasn’t reading it wrong. Both of you were just a little overwhelmed.

“Anywhere you want it to. I was thinking it could go home.”

“Mmm,” he nods. “Home sounds nice.”

With a smile exchanged, he lifts most of your equipment to the car. You have to take a beat outside the car just to force your brain to go from scrambled to whole so you can manage the drive home. It took every ounce of concentration.

Claire’s not home when you get there and you’re so grateful for that. Firstly, you just wanted to get him back into your bedroom. Secondly, you wanted this just between the two of you. At least for today.

You drop her a text in case, like you two usually did. You tell her you had company over.

The rest of the night can be spent uninterrupted.

You set everything in the living room and take Harry back to your bedroom.

He looks around curiously, taking in the photos on the walls and the things on the dresser.

You watch him, feeling a little exposed. he was looking. Seeing. You. It was different. Good different.

Harry looks at you with a question and you answer by closing the space between you; he reaches his arms out and your body is engulfed by him. Your lips meet, this time less hesitant.

It’s not long before Harry pulls you towards the bed, falling backwards with you on top of him. You straddle his hips and kiss him like a teenager. You feel his fingers brush your waist and tug at the bottom of your top.

It’s off in an instant and you try to hide the smile as Harry takes in the sight of you, his eyes filling with awe. He was such a dork. But it made you feel empowered, and seen. You reach for his shirt and he lets you take it off.

When you lean forward again, chests pressed together, his hands find the small of your back. They trace circles there, sending shivers up your spine.

You take the cue and kiss him slowly, rocking your hips against him. He gasps, his hands tightening as you trail kisses along his neck.

The sounds he makes go straight to your core and you feel the familiar flutter that tells you to hurry. You move back, undoing his jeans and helping him slide them off.

“You’re alright with this?” He breathes into your skin.

Your heart thuds in your ribcage, but mostly from anticipation; you never realized how long you wanted this for. Wanted him.

“Of course,” you pause and so does he. “Took you long enough.”

With a wry smile he covers your mouth with his and soon the two of you find a rhythm that no song could compete with. You find company in someone you’d sworn could never be yours.

It’s bliss.

***

The sun filters through the window and casts a warm light across your floor.

You were in your own bed, and in the middle of the mattress with a leg thrown over the edge was Harry, sound asleep. Tbe weight of his arm over your waist and the steady sound of his breathing is the proof you needed that this was real. He was real.

The two of you hadn't bothered to get dressed last night. It was an unspoken understanding that this wasn’t the end.

You turn onto your side; it was a nice view.

It was a nice morning, actually. The first morning in a while where you not only woke to a warm body, but one that felt like it belonged. That wasn’t going anywhere

Claire must be somewhere in the flat, you realize. You hadn’t heard her come in.

Harry starts to stir as light fills the room. His eyes squint open and his left hand comes up to cover his face.

You reach over to run your fingers through his hair and he sighs, his face relaxing into a smile.

Harry turns to you, eyes finally open and alert and your heart thumps happily.

There was no need for words.

You snuggle closer and he wraps an arm around you. You bury your face into his neck and breathe in his scent.

He laughs quietly, his chest rumbling under you. You kiss him and he responds in kind.

This time there was no rush.

The morning was warm, and so were you.

5 months later

You get there early, you wanted a moment before the guests to take in your accomplishment. Sure you’d been published on websites and magazines before. Your dream has always been to live forever on an album cover. And you’d finally done it.

The venue was a sparkly room thanks to all the disco balls. They contrasted against the rich fabric and wood beams all over the space.

You take a ton of pictures to send to your friends and family.

You mingle with guests as they come in, trying not to give in too much to the hollowed out feeling that came with a string of strangers and the tiresome small talk. You smile and introduce yourself, you know this was how connections were made. In rooms like this.

You feel him come in as you give in to a second drink. You’re at the bar, and your eyes lift up to the entrance and there’s Harry. Your Harry.

Harry’s eyes skim the crowd looking for someone. His someone. No other person mattered until he could locate her. That’s how it felt these days. A million faces could blur by but hers was the one he looked for every time.

He sees her. Looking at him. Of course she’s already spotted him.

You watch as his face splits into an eager smile, his hand raising above his head.

Harry was like fresh lemonade poured into a cup of ice, all of the tiring talks and fake smiles from before vanish as you drink him in. He’s looking at you, only you. You’re looking at only him.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as a greeting.

“That’s alright,” you peck his lips. “I was just taking a breather.”

“Is the band here? My phone died on the ride so I couldn’t check in.”

“I thought I saw one of them somewhere in that crowd,” you point to the right.

Harry had gotten you this gig. It was the third thing he’d helped you get and slowly you were able to take on less and less wedding and marketing jobs and focus on the music industry. It filled your days and nights with passion-fuelled hard work. You loved every second of it.

And when you weren’t working, you spent time with Harry. It had been 5 months since you started dating. Neither of you questioned what your labels were. You just knew there was nothing else you two could be.

You teased him a lot, how he took the long way to finally recognize the truth. But he made up for it all the time. He made sure you knew how you were the only one for him.

“That is one perfect album,” Harry slips his hand around your waist. Your photograph is blown out to a tapestry and hangs in the middle of the space. It was a sophomore album for the band and with their debut a hit, this tapestry was going to be signed and auctioned. Eventually it would sit somewhere, your photograph, coveted as a piece of music history.

“This is unreal,” you squeeze Harry. “How amazing is it that we both got to work on this album in our own specialties?”

“A perfect match I’d say,” he kisses you.

“What a pair we make,” you grin.

“I see many more shared projects in our future,” Harry promises.

“I’d like that.” It was one of the things you loved about being with Harry, your creativity and how both of you shared a similar industry at times. It brought you closer together, swapping ideas and stories.

“One day I’m going to need album art for the EP I release.”

“Ooh yes,” you clutch his arm. Lately Harry has been spending some times with his head in a brand new notebook, he said he was working on his personal project. “I can’t wait for that day. I have so many ideas of styling you.”

You had a particular image that sat on your phone from the very first night you met. One where he’s dancing alone in a crowd, red lighting casting half his face in shadow and the other in a vibrant scarlet. His eyes are closed and his brows scrunched as his body flows with movement, even in a still picture. You adored it. It was one of the best photos you ever took.

“Me?” Harry looks down at you. He knew whatever songs he pulled together for an EP would be about you. His rush to write recently were from all the time spent being in your presence. It was intense, it had only been 5 months of dating, but somehow he thought you might understand. “I was thinking the cover art could be the subject of my songs.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “How do you feel about self-portraits?”

Your face grows slack as it dawns on you. He had a whole EP in mind, about you.

“Well?” He twitches his hand on your waist, tugging you a little closer.

“Self-portraits sound a bit lonely,” you will your eyes not to tear up.

“But you won’t be,” Harry tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You have me. You won’t ever be lonely.”

“I know,” you feel the emotion catch in your throat as you gaze up into his photographic eyes. You can’t explain it but your body feels grounded—more grounded than it’s ever been. Here in his arms you felt together, like you were a book finally finding a shelf to lean on.

The two of you stand side by side and look at the people this collaborative masterpiece brought together. The room fills with the energy of the music. It was special.

"I love you," Harry reminds you.

"I love you too," you respond.

Your life hadn’t change all at once, not really. The biggest thing that changed was Harry. His presence, his attitude, his attention—it shifted. He wasn’t just a guy on the periphery, in proximity. He had you in his sights and he in yours.

You noticed small new things about him, and you wondered if everyone did. He was more confident and present, rooted to and with you. Both of you had bloomed, like caterpillars into butterflies. A pair of butterflies—you should tell him that.

Sometimes you thought you were just born lonely, it’s how it always was and has been. With Harry, you felt less lonely. You felt like things could really change for you.

You extend your hand to him and motion to the dance floor. It was a tradition now—no dance floor would go unmarked by the two of you.

He takes your hand and you lead him there. And with you in his arms he feels set free, like always.

Out of the cocoon and into the embrace of belonging, two butterflies dance in plain sight.

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

The hyperfixation demons are screeching at me to write a comprehensive list of all the reasons I like Fukutora, so today I present to you "Ant ignores their responsibilites and spends several paragraphs explaining why Fukutora is peak despite them having roughly 10 seconds of shared screen time"

1. Contrasting Personalities In general their personalities fit together really well— Fukunaga barely speaks while Tora exclusively shouts at max volume and can't stfu to save his life, Tora's overly-intense and takes everything way too seriously while Fukunaga's cracking jokes in the middle of important games, they're even literal opposites on the court as the two wing spikers. Their differences compliment each other perfectly and because of that I think they'd grow a lot being together, Fukunaga would learn to open up and Tora would mellow out. Another good contrast is how Tora's all about looking cool and standing out while Fukunaga tends to blend into the background, which leads into my next point...

2. MY ROMAN EMPIRE (aka chapter 309) I know it's only two pages out of a 33 chapter match but i dont care, this scene makes me feral. I read the manga after watching Dumpster Battle, so imagine my suprise when my two favorite losers had a moment THAT GOT CUT FROM THE FUCJIGN MOVIE (I'm still salty, it should've been a full season).

Anyways these pages rooted their way into my brain because they show that even though Fukunaga goes unnoticed by most people (both in-universe and by readers) Tora realizes how great he is, and not only respects his play style but views him as a rival on the same level as himself. One thing I appreciate about Tora is that despite him being the stereotypical "strong manly athlete" type he doesn't think his methods are the best or only way of doing things; Fukunaga scoring points without "big fanfare" is just as cool as the shit he and Tanaka pull off. The phrasing "that I hafta surpass" could even imply that Tora sees Fukunaga as more than an equal, as someone who's ahead of him since he doesn't need to be flashy or loud to do amazing stuff.

Look at his smile on page two, bro's just excited to have someone who motivates him to keep pushing himself. And as we've learned from Kagehina: what's gayer than a rivalry?? All in all I think it's sweet that Tora notcies his efforts and admires him when few others do. Side Note, I've seen a translation of these that call them "Nekoma's Wings" and I think that's a sick nickname.

3. Bi Tora and Internalized Homophobia I love a good internalized homophobia arc, and characters like Tora that center so much around girls and manliness are some of the most fun to explore them with imo. You could say he's one of the least likely characters in hq to be queer since he's THE woman-lover next to Tanaka and Noya (and Yachi) but that's what makes it interesting—his gay awakening would hit like a tsunami and send him into life-ruining bi panic for months, especially since he's already such a mess when it comes to romance. He gives me the vibes of someone who has no problem with other people being gay but struggles when it comes to himself since it clashes with his conception of what it means to "be a man" or whatever. My point is he'd have the most intense no homo phase to grace this earth and I think that's both super funny and compelling for his character.

Also as a bi person myself it's kind of frustrating how bisexuality is treated online sometimes. It's annoying when a person's queerness is negated the moment they show attraction for the opposite gender, so headcanoning a character like Tora as a bi while still being openly into women makes me happy.

4. The Stage Play They're so silly in the stageplay. Why is he dragging him around by the feet? Why are they screaming at Kenma? Why is he constantly bopping him on the head in the background? WHY IS HE SERVING FACE IN THE PROMO PICTURES? So silly.

(Ignore how blurry these are lol) 5. Ant's Little Sister Bias This is a me thing, I like ships where one party has an annoying little sister who bothers them, sue me. Its cute. Akane and Fukunaga could have the most adorable friendship if you believe.

6. They Match Each Others Energy My first post about them was me rambling about this so just read that, TDLR they're both energetic menaces who match each other's freak.

7. Kenma's Forced Third-Wheel Purgatory Putting Kenma in a situation where Kuroo's graduated and his closest remaining friends are dating and constantly forcing him to third-wheel is just about the evilest thing you could do to the guy. He may be one of my favorites but this is well-deserved punishment for his crimes.

8. Baffled x Baffling Another ship dynamic I like a lot is when one person is unabashedly weird and the other thinks they're a total freak... but likes them anyways. They don't know why they like them. They can't explain it to anyone. Whenever the person does more weird shit they're like "why tf do I like you." But even so they're whipped as hell. Anyways Tora barely understands a single thing Fukunaga does and I think that makes for a funny crush to have.

9. Fukunaga's "Current Concern" Don't have much to add here, it's just proof to me that they hang out idc. Like why are you concerned about what he wants?? Kinda gay dude. Big fan of Fukunaga whispering to him and Tora answering at full volume so other people hear a one-sided conversation.

10. These Fics Before I knew this ship was even a thing I stumbled on these fics while browsing the Fukunaga tag, that's what got the gears turning:

• My favorite one, third-year shenanigans • Peak, need to be signed in tho • College AU • This one is mostly gen Fukunaga but the few moments they have are perfect (also really fun Nekoma interactions overall)

11. Other Miscellaneous Thoughts • Both of them being public figures/lowkey famous in timeskip is cute, like imagine them being each others' biggest fan before they make it big.

• Chef x guy who eats a lot is peak fiction. In this case they both eat a lot. Their grocery bill is a horror story.

• I know it's because characters are usually grouped by year and Kenma ditches them to sit with Kuroo but they're always together in the stands, pretty gay if you ask me

• I hc Fukunaga as genderfluid so Tora still gets his chance to be a wife guy. Him and Tanaka ranting to each other while Kiyoko and Fukunaga drink tea in peaceful silence.

• I think Fukunaga's the type to enjoy people watching and Tora's always doing something dumb. Observing him like a little bug under a microscope

• They're both so silly looking, cartoony ahh designs. I just think they'd make a funny couple visually, they're so square and stick to me if that makes any sense lmaoo

If you got through this whole post you're a real one, thanks for reading to my brain dump. I think about them every day and need more people to understand the vision

[jeysmullet]

Love your writing! I was wondering if you could please write about Roman surprising the reader who is also a wrestler, with his Summerslam return? Still not over it, so happy that he's back 😭 Take your time, thanks!!

Just the way we were | Roman Reigns

roman reigns x female!girlfriend!reader

warnings: swearing , fluff, fluff, and more fluff, a tiny little bit of suggestive language at the end.

Y/n L/n

Throwing my towel onto the couch in my dressing room, letting out a loud groan, throwing my shoulders back to help relieve atleast a small bit of pain from them. I hissed in discomfort as I felt a sharp pain form in my shoulder blade. I massaged it as best as I could before I allowed my feet to drag me over towards my suitcase before bending down and scouring through it.

I grabbed a red hoodie and a pair of leggings before grabbing my new underwear. I groan as I stand back up straight before grabbing my toiletry bag and a new towel. I walk over to my bathroom, closing the door, before placing my clothes onto the closed white toilet lid. A whimper fell from my mouth as i reached for the hem of my gear top, feeling the pain in my shoulders once more. I carefully slid the top over my head, throwing it on the ground, as i brought my hands to the back of my bottoms and unzipping it. I slid the shorts down my legs along with the underwear i was wearing. I threw them alongside the top on the floor.

I made my way towards the shower, sticking my hand in it to turn the water on, before placing my hand under the water making sure it was the appropriate temperature. I stepped into the shower with my back towards the running water. I let my body relax as the hot water cascades all over my body. I lean my head back, allowing the water to go onto my face. I turn around, so I could face the water and grabbed my body wash from the edge of the shower. I grab the washcloth and place some of the soapy liquid onto it. I place the bottle down before bringing the washcloth and cleaning everything off of me.

TIMESKIP

I take my place at a table in catering, sitting beside Gionna, who also had a match tonight. “Good match tonight boo! New mrs. wwe women’s world championnnn” I heard Gio say from beside me.

“Girl, let’s talk about you. Everybody loved you and Doms little moment.” I smiled looking over at her. “Yeah, I was hoping everything went good. I loved the crowds excitement and engagement with the whole match. It had me pumped.” I smiled and nodded before I brought my focus back onto the tv in front of us. It showed Finn getting involved with Damian’s match, which ended up costing him the match and his championship. There goes the judgement day.

I pulled my phone out of my red hoodie pocket before unlocking it and scrolling on twitter. I switch apps, going to my messages before clicking on Joe’s text tread. I send him a quick text telling him that the night was almost over, but I notice that it doesn’t go through. I tilt my head confuse but just brushed it off as I heard Solo’s music play and watch as he walks down to the ring. Time passes quickly after Cody comes down to the ring and the match finally starts.

I was intently watching the tv as the match unfolds until i hear a familiar theme song play. I straightened my posture as i leaned in closer to the tv, placing my elbows on my knees, to steady myself. I pay attention to make sure I wasn’t just imagining things. I knew I wasn’t imagining things when I saw my husband walk from backstage towards the ring. It was a blur from when Joe speared Solo till I saw Joe in all his glory right here in front of me. He was here in front of me, when i thought he was still at home. “What the fuck?” I spoke looking at him shocked.

He smiles down at me, “What’s up baby,” he wraps his arms around me and gently picks me up. “You asshole, you didn’t tell me that you were coming back.” I laugh and push him back a little.

“I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t want to take your attention off of your match, Mrs. Women’s Champion.” Joe smiles up at me while i’m in his arms. I lean forward and pull his face closer towards him placing my lips onto his. He places me down before placing his hands on my face holding me there. I pull away from him before pushing him again.

“I’m still mad at you, you could’ve told me, Joe.” I told him while crossing my arms over my chest. Joe grabs my hand before speaking, “I’ll make it up to you if that’ll make you feel better.” I saw a smirk form on his lips before I started smiling. He wraps his arm around me, pulling me towards my locker room to grab my stuff, before taking me to the bus to focus on our very long night. :)

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 16

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: suggestive content, little bit of angst, and fluff wc: 2.5k

A/N: sorry for the unprecidented delay in updates! Life got in the way and then I got sick and lost a whole day of writing. 😥

Chapter Selection

🦇BatFam Group Chat🦇

Dick: So Jaybird, how'd she take it?

11:02am

Jason: … I didn't tell her yet.

11:08am

Steph: WHAT??? 😰

11:09am

Tim: 😐 … Do you think a better moment is forthcoming?

11:11am

Jason: You really want to talk to me right now, replacement? After the shit you pulled?

11:12am

Steph: ???

11:13am

Jason: HE KNOWS WHAT HE DID!

11:14am

Dick: Ok, ok! Look, this doesn't have to be a big thing. Just tell her, it'll be fine!

11:15am

Damian: Do not lie, Grayson. It is a big thing, and Todd is not so stupid that he will think otherwise.

11:17am

Babs: You really should tell her soon, Jay.

11:20am

Jason: … Well when is Tim telling Bernard, huh?? They've been dating longer than we have, how is it not Gang Up On Tim Day??

11:22am

Tim: Yeah, I told Bernard. … And he already knew. 😬

11:23am

Dick: … We're gonna discuss that later. Right?

11:26am

Tim: Report's already in the Batcomputer.

11:27am

Babs: … Seriously, Tim??? O.O ????

11:32am

Tim: Hey, hey! Can we get back to Gang Up On Jason Day?

11:33am

Jason: No! I'm working on it, leave me be!

11:36am

Steph: … Given how she handled everything yesterday, what's the issue? Do you think she won't be able to take it?

11:40am

Jason: That's not it at all! … With her I get to be a normal guy. And the second I tell her, that goes away, for both of us

11:41am

Damian: … Granted, I have very little experience with women, but I do think that if she wanted normal, she would have bowed out the second she realized she was talking to a Wayne.

11:43am

Dick: Or when B showed up at the diner

11:45am

Babs: Or when Damian showed up at her apartment

11:46am

Cass: Or after sitting through a dinner with all of us.

11:47am

Jason: 😒 None of you are any help at all

11:50am

After the gala, Jason became determined that I should know how to defend myself. I was incredibly uncomfortable with going to the gym with him, but after a week of assurances he had me at least partially convinced me that no one would bat an eye at me there.

Once he had the green light, he jumped into action. He took me out to get some workout clothes, and we started going to the gym together once a week. I, like most every Gothamite, had taken self defense classes as a kid, so we started with some flexibility improving stretches, strength building, and making sure I still had a grasp on the basics. Every week we trained for a few hours, and Jason would take me out for dinner after.

I would never have expected it, but I actually started to look forward to our gym days. Jason was his most cuddly after training, especially when he was particularly excited about some progress I made. Every time I got a hit in, or blocked one of his, he would beam like the sun itself. The first time I caught him by surprise and kicked him to the ground he actually scooped me up in a bear hug, cheering for the whole gym to hear.

And what's more; his work was so sporadic that it was hard to predict if and when he'd be called away on the average day. He did his best to avoid it when we had plans, but sometimes he just had to go in. But he made arrangements with someone who worked for him so that our gym days were our days, so they very quickly became the day every week where I was guaranteed his undivided attention.

It was all so delightfully domestic. We would spend the night before together, just cuddling though he was slowly getting used to me touching him more. In the morning we made breakfast and ate together in bed. We'd go for a ride on his bike, see what was new at our favorite used book store, have lunch and a walk around the park, and head to the gym. After training we would take quick showers in the locker rooms and bring some take-out home. Sometimes we'd fall asleep in each other's arms, but if he had an early morning at work he would tuck me in with a kiss and head home to get some sleep.

Damian started coming over once in a while as well; as we had discussed, he would text me that he was on his way first. Somehow he never tried to come over when I was at work, and he avoided gym day too. But his visits didn't always correlate with Jason's. Sometimes it was just the two of us, and on those days he slowly started to open up. He would do homework at my kitchen table while I made dinner, we'd play video games or watch movies, and eventually the manor would send a car to take him home. He always grumbled that I didn't need to walk him out, but I wasn't about to let him out of my sight in my neighborhood, and he didn't protest past that.

Eventually he started leaving a set of casual clothes at my apartment. I took him to the cafe down the block, let him pick out snacks at the corner store, and one day we took the bus to the local craft store. He bought a dozen craft kits; crystal growing, shrinky dinks, window decals, little figurines to paint, even a candy making kit. They only made an appearance on days when Jason had to work, and Damian always looked so sweet and relaxed while we played with them, and every time he made me promise not to tell anyone. I wasn't sure what was so bad about his family knowing he played with age appropriate toys, but I always assured him that no one had to know if he didn't want them to. The crafts were always carefully packed away when we were done and tucked into a nondescript box in my hall closet.

Steph, Tim, and Dick all found me on Waynebook, and eventually Steph invited me to join girl's night. That Tuesday I found myself at Babs' apartment with her, Cass, and Steph, watching a movie, eating pizza and popcorn, and painting Steph's nails for her. Dick started sending me memes and safety reports from my neighborhood. I wouldn't even hazard a guess why he was so up to date on my area's crime reports, but I did appreciate the heads up. Tim didn't send me many messages, usually just letting me know when Bruce had been trying to get Jason to bring me by again, but he definitely stalked my profile since he liked a picture from my high school graduation. His stalking tendencies were starting to amuse me more than anything else, so I didn't mention it to Jay. Anything that strained their already turbulent relationship felt like unnecessary information.

Jason took me to see an outdoor showing of the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. He packed a picnic dinner for us, making sure all my favorite foods were available, and brought several blankets and pillows. He held me close and whispered in my ear, quoting along with Mr. Darcy when he confessed his love to Elizabeth; “you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on...”

It was an unusually peaceful day in Gotham; the kind of day that makes the hard ones worth powering through. We drove back to my place with the windows down. I didn't notice when Jason's mood shifted, but I did notice his hands trembling as he unpacked the picnic basket, and him glancing at me next to him. I set a hand over his, frowning slightly; “... Honey?”

“Hm?” He swallowed hard. “Y- yeah?”

“Are you ok?”

“Course. … Course I’m ok, doll.” He smiled softly, kissing my forehead.

“Cause you’re squirming like something’s wrong…”

“No, no! Nothing’s wrong, baby, honest. … Sorry, I just … I wanted to …” He frowned, taking a deep breath. “... We’ve been together for a while, and I … was thinking we could try something tonight?”

I blinked a bit, nodding slowly; “Oh? What did you want to try?”

“...Um … can we … push the comfort zone a bit?” He refused to look me in the eye, blushing bright red. I bit back the urge to giggle at how cute he was being, squeezing his hand instead.

“That could be fun~ … but if anything pushes back-”

He nodded quickly. “We’ll take it slow. And I’ll tell you if I need to stop, promise.”

I nodded, cupping his cheek; “very good. Then, how would you like to proceed?”

“Um … well, … I really like kissing you … I was thinking … maybe we could kiss some more places?”

I nodded, crossing my wrists behind his neck. His hands rested on my hips, stroking in small circles. “That sounds nice. You want lights on or off?”

“... Off will help.” He nodded slowly. “Is that ok?”

I nodded; “of course. Changing one variable at a time is always best practice, right?”

“Oh god…” He chuckled, holding me close. “What is this, some kind of science experiment?”

“I mean, we are experimenting, and it’s not not science - it’s biology and chemistry and psychology, and probably a bit of neurology.” I giggled, leaning in more. “I think the only thing we’re missing is the part where you have to write stuff down for it to be science. … So unless there’s something you’d rather be doing, I guess we could start writing out some lab reports …”

“... You know what, you little dork?” He scooped me up, tossing me casually over his shoulder, and began walking toward the bedroom.

“Woah!” I gasped sharply, giggling; “what?! What’s going on?”

He kicked the door closed behind him and laid me on the bed, leaning over me a bit, his hands trapping me between them on the bed. “I’m going to show you what I’d rather be doing … i- if that’s ok?”

The demanding tone he'd used was making me tingle all over. I bit back a giggle at the cautious way he ended the sentence, nodding quickly. “Sounds good to me~”

I could see a bit of his face in the light from the window, enough to see his eager grin as he dipped down, capturing my lips with his. I cupped his cheek, kissing back hungrily. He moaned softly, pressing his knees to the mattress on either side of my hips. I ran my hands through his hair as he slowly pulled away from my lips, kissing along my jaw to nibble gently on my earlobe. I gasped sharply, shivering at the contact, and he moved on to kiss down the side of my neck.

His lips slowly trailed from my throat down to my collarbone, placing gentle kisses there. “Is this … still ok?”

I panted softly, whimpering, and nodded. “Yeah~ yeah, this is … ooooh Jay~ this is amazing~”

He grinned against my chest, kissing more. His hand slowly made its way to my side, and his fingertips slid under my shirt a bit. “And … this?” He slid his hand a little further.

I shivered hard and nodded. “ohh god, yes~”

His hand caressed my curves as he kissed and gently nipped at my collar. I quickly found myself squirming under him, whining a bit; “yes~ … j- just like that, Jay~”

I squirmed a bit as he explored my soft tummy, pressing his hands into my sides to hold me close. His lips slowly made their way a bit lower, and a bit lower, until they were at the neckline of my shirt. Jason looked up at me, stroking my sides gently.

“Can … um … can I …?” He slid my shirt up ever so slightly.

I nodded quickly, shifting to help him remove it. He tossed it aside and began kissing my cleavage again. His hands fondled and caressed more, making their way up to my breasts. He licked and nibbled there, squeezing gently.

“Ohh fuck~ Jay~”

He groaned softly, nuzzling against me. He nibbled more, holding me close. “Fuck, you're incredible, doll~”

He fondled me more, kissing all over. I panted softly, gently tugging his hair. He purred at that, nipping more. I gasped softly, tugging his hair a bit. “Ow... G- gently, Jay…”

He froze, slowly pulling back. “I … I'm sorry, … I … fuck!” He pushed off the bed, backing up until he was against the wall. He stared at me, wide eyed, as I sat up.

“Take a breath, Jay. It's ok, I'm not hurt. Your teeth are just sharp.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly nodded. “... I … I'm sorry …”

“It's ok, baby.” I held a hand out to him. He slowly walked over to me, letting me pull him down to sit next to me. I stroked his back, kissing his shoulder. “Relax, it's ok~”

“It's not. … I hurt you…”

“Well, mostly you startled me. And when I said ‘ow’ you stopped.”

He sighed softly, burying his face in his hands. “... I … I hate this … I … I don't know how to do this…”

“What do you mean?”

“... I think ... After everything I’ve been through … everything I’ve done … this isn’t what my body is built for … I can cause pain, I can take pain … I don’t know what to do with … pleasure. I don’t know how to give you pleasure. And I don’t deserve to receive it…”

I frowned deeply; “... My love, … you are so incredibly strong, and it’s true that you can take an inordinate amount of pain. But you are not meant for pain. Someone as kind and gentle and caring as you deserves to experience joy, and love, and pleasure.”

“... I don’t know how.” he shuddered, staring into his lap. “... But I want to … I want us to get to be happy together … I want to be able to pleasure you …”

I nodded slowly, chewing on my lower lip a bit. “... Jay, … how did you get so good at fighting?”

“… Years of training?” 

A grin slowly spread across my face as I reached out for his hand. He let me take it, squeezing once. “Exactly. Someone who knew how to fight showed you how it was done. They had you practice punches and kicks, taught you how to shoot, right?” He nodded, slowly looking toward me. “... So why don’t we do this the same way?”

“... What do you mean?”

I cupped his cheek, purring; “you’re teaching me to defend myself. If you’ll let me, I will teach you about pleasure.”

A shuddering gasp ripped through him, and his lower lip trembled a bit as he slowly nodded, leaning into my hand more; “... Y- yes. … Yes, I want that. I … I want to learn. … Please, teach me.”

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