#planning on becoming a art god by the end of this

[peachii-nitenite]

Much Needed Support (sfw-suggestive content) Part 1

JayVik x Reader Ramble

Idea: You’ve been overworking. Your aches and pains worsen by the day, and you can’t seem to tough it out like you used to… there’s only two people you really trust to help. 4.8k wordcount

Content: reader with feminine pronouns, sexual tension, fluff, partial nudity, boys getting shy about said nudity, mutual pining, self-doubt, idiots in love, getting sick, friends to lovers, discussions on medical neglect, mentions of chronic pain, descriptions of chronic pain (slightly implied hand kink???)

Very self indulgent selfiship coded x reader with a reader with scoliosis and joint issues to help me deal with feelings about own deterioration and struggles with findin a doc who’ll listen lol 🥲

Side note- this ended up much longer than I originally planned 😅 so this might end up being like 3 parts with MAYBE some spice ^v^

-You are a student at the academy in the arts and humanities department, a year below Jayce and Viktor, and you have worked your ass off to get here.

-You and Viktor have always gotten along; you were both from Zaun, both scholarship students, and both passionate about your work.

-Viktor introduced you to Jayce shortly after they partnered up, and the three of you become nearly inseparable.

-despite not even sharing a major, you found yourself in the lab during most of your free time, bantering and tossing ideas around, or sometimes quietly working on your own projects.

-for as long as Viktor’s known you, you’ve been energetic and passionate, but recently you’ve been acting a bit differently. Quieter, more despondent. You visited less frequently, and you seemed constantly exhausted.

-the change was gradual, how you seemed a bit more sluggish, had been walking a bit more slowly, movements a bit more calculated. And then one day, you tripped on the stairs while heading to the lab, a sharp pain having shot through your knee.

-you shrugged it off, insisting that you were fine and that it was just a bit slippery, but both of them could tell something was up.

-Jayce was actually the first to notice: how you constantly adjusted your gait, how you would wince at times when standing up, how you consistently had to correct your posture. Something was causing you pain, and you were trying to hide it.

-you were stubborn, and fiercely independent, and as such they were deterred from prying too much

-Viktor was the one who pointed out another clue: your clothes were always long and baggy, as if you were trying to hide something bulky beneath it. He could have even sworn seeing you looking a bit longer than usual at his leg brace one morning.

-in spite of how stubborn you were, they still cherished you greatly. which meant they could not allow you to go on like that,

-and all while they were brainstorming how to breach the topic, you were getting worse.

-the pain made it hard to sleep, the dull aching of the muscles around your spine needling you awake any time you began to drift off. You could feel you knees grinding and creaking with every step up the stairs. Your homemade remedies and exercises could only do so much to help, and you can only take so many pain pills a day.

-you were sick of being dismissed by upper city doctors, who claimed you were “too young” to have such issues, or chalked it up to stress or poor exercise. You had been dealing with these things since you were a child. But you were always told when you grew up, you would get better; stronger even. Now in your twenties, you look back bitterly, having only gotten weaker.

-you had a pair of simple, worn out compression braces for your knees. It had been patched and reinforced so many times that they were god awful to look at, not to mention the embarrassment you felt simply having to keep using them after all this time. They were easily covered up by the long skirts and baggy pants you usually wore.

-aside from that, you had an old, ill fitting corset that you used to attempt some semblance of support for your back. But it was all becoming too much. You had to get help, and soon, before it got even worse.

-as much as you didn't want to burden them, you had no other ideas left.

-right when you came to visit, both of them were already there, discussing the situation.

-perhaps it was the fatigue that made you finally cave, or maybe it was the longing to feel less alone in your pain. Regardless, you found yourself shuffling into the lab with all the energy of a cadaver.

—

“Is it really our place to ask though? If she’s being secretive, maybe there’s a deeper reason…” Jayce was pacing, tossing ideas back and forth in his head. “I mean, isn’t it a bit rude to just…ask out of the blue?” He sighs. “You may have a point, but we know her, Jayce” Viktor rose from his seat, interrupting the path of his partner’s pacing to place a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I…I know, I just-“

He was cut of by the sound of the door creaking open. Speak of the devil.

You looked tired, dark circles much more prominent than usual, and there seemed to be a touch of…anxiety?

“…hey guys. Been a minute.” You smiled weakly as you walked toward them. They looked between each other, as if trying to will the other to say something first. But before either of them could, you spoke up.

“I….you know I hate to ask but… I need your help”

“Of course! You know we’d do anything to help you out, what’s wrong?” Jayce pipes up, smoothly steering you toward a chair. Viktor quietly observes how you slump in relief, despite your posture remaining oddly stiff.

“I…well, uh….” You hang your head and sigh, as you struggle to get the words out “…do you know any good doctors? Preferably unbiased ones?” You muster a dry chuckle. They both furrow their brows in concern. “Of course, but what seems to be the issue?” Viktor chimes in, coming over to stand closer to you. You sigh, eyes once again lingering on his brace and his cane. “It…well it may just be easier to show you.”

You adjust yourself in the chair, and begin pulling up the hem of your long skirt. The two men freeze- you can tell they’re caught off guard by their faces as you do, and you can’t help but laugh a little. You bunch it up in your lap and their eyes land on your patchwork braces. Viktor’s eyes soften sympathetically, and you look away.

“…how long?” He steps closer to get a better look, and the proximity flusters you a bit. Jayce, follows suit, kneeling in front of you. You can them actively going into scientist mode, as you affectionately called it; eyes scanning and assessing your handiwork- or rather, the *failure*of your handiwork. You hesitate with your answer for a moment, eyes flitting between your two friends. There was nothing but sincere concern in their eyes, and you almost felt a bit guilty for not talking to them sooner.

“…not really sure, probably since I was a kid…but it’s only been getting worse. The damn things barely seem to work these days” you grumble, shifting your weight in discomfort. “And I…well I’d show you my back brace too but uh…that can probably wait” you trailed off, face getting warm at the mere thought of having to take your shirt off in front to the two men. You almost swore you saw a tinge of pink to Viktor’s ears as he cleared his throat, but perhaps it was just the light.

“Well, we’re not doctors….but if you don’t mind, would you let us have a closer look?” Jayce asks earnestly as he looks up at you, and you nod. He quickly clears a spot for you on the work table, and gestures for you to hop up. You hesitate for a moment, wearily eyeing the two of them before situating yourself on the table.

If there’s one thing to be said about those two, it’s that they’re efficient. After having you remove your old braces, they immediately set to work sketching, brainstorming, and most importantly- assessing your condition. They ask you more about your condition: is the pain sharp or dull? What tasks or activities aggravate it? How long has it been worsening? Do you take any medications for the pain? Do you have a diagnosis?

Much to your embarrassment the answers were difficult to muster. Most doctors topside would scoff, say you looked healthy enough and that you were too young for such issues, and send you on your way without so much as an exam. “Perhaps you aren’t active enough” or “it’s likely just stress” were the most common responses. This much attention being paid toward you was…odd almost. Refreshing, comforting even, but odd nonetheless.

“Y'know, for a while I was convinced I was just being dramatic… that’s what my last doctor said anyways. So it’s nice to be taken seriously for once!” You beamed as Viktor took notes. At those words, however, his pencil abruptly stopped. Jayce also looked up from the diagram he was sketching with a furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry…your doctor said what?” Viktor inquired, his tone tight and clipped. It quickly dawned on you that you had never seen him look so angry before, let alone on your behalf. It almost made you want to shrink away from that piercing gaze. Instead, you blinked, slowly repeating yourself before elaborating.

“Uh…yeah. My doctor wouldn’t give me a diagnosis or refer me elsewhere, and instead just recommended more exercise…” you scoff mirthlessly at the memory, how you felt so foolish and alone in that office under the doctor’s condescending gaze.

“…needless to say, I don’t see him anymore, aha…ha” you try to fill the silence with an awkward laugh, but neither of them laugh with you.

“And this… happens often? You’re dismissed like that?” Jayce asks, eyes fixed on your legs. It was strange for you to see the two of them so tense, especially on your behalf. You nodded, with a dejected grimace.

“…they usually think someone like me is after painkillers, so I get it- I really do. And it’s true that it’s odd for someone my age to be…well, like this-“ you gesture vaguely to yourself and to your discarded braces with a bitter expression.

“But… I just can’t tough it out like I used to. Even if I am being dramatic” you sigh, the mere act of explaining your situation only furthering your fatigue. “I…I’m sorry, didn’t mean to upset you with my sob story-“

“Don’t apologize.” Viktor cuts you off, his voice gentle, but firm. “Never apologize for this. It was wrong of them to neglect you.” He sets down his notepad next to you on the table, eyeing your old braces with disdain. “I know all too well what it is like. So do not apologize for seeking a solution to your pain.” His tone went soft, gentler than you’d ever heard him. There was none of the usual sass or clinical edge to his words, and in turn it made you feel softer as well. It reminded you why you had come for their help in the first place.

These were your friends- and they would do anything to help you.

“Vik is right. We’re not mad at you, we’re mad at those idiot doctors for not doing their jobs!” Jayce chimes in. It makes you smile, despite the odd urge to cry. Instead of risking tears by attempting to respond, you simply nodded once more. “Once we’re done in here I’ll get you the contact info for my doctor. She’s good at what she does, and Viktor’s been to her a few times. Sounds good?”

You smile, your unease slowly ebbing away

“Yeah, sounds like a plan!”

“So, let’s get to work shall we?”

—

-The two men quickly resumed their work with a new fervor. A prototype sketch was done within the hour, and all that was left before the first draft could be made was the measurements. You knew this part might be a tad awkward. What you did not know, is how unbothered the two of them were when it came to personal space while they were in “work mode”.

-You sat on the table, skirt hiked up to your mid thighs as the two of them sat before you with a measuring tape and a pad of paper, delicately handling each leg as they measured. And soon enough , they began to bicker over the design.

-and you quickly learned that your friends were very hands on with their brainstorming.

“It does not need to be that long, her condition is much different than mine, so the brace must be different as well!” Long fingers slid up your calf, resting just under your knee, gently holding it higher as if to show Jayce his error. “The brace should end here, not there” he asserted, drawing invisible lines over your shin and a few inches above your knee. It took a lot of willpower not to shudder at the sensation. “Any longer and it would be bulky and cumbersome, which is what we are seeking to avoid”

Viktor’s hands were cold, and rougher than you expected, no doubt from years of tinkering and inventing. You were not going to lie to yourself and say you hadn’t stared at them before, as he wrote or worked on prototypes. You also couldn’t say you hadn’t thought about them more…intimately either. How they would feel on your bare skin. But as he drew his invisible schematic on your leg, all your curiosities were answered as you let out a small gasp.

The feeling was nice. A little too nice.

He stopped instantly, looking up with worry.

“I am sorry, did I hurt you? I will be gentler…”

“Ah! N-no I’m fine! Your…uh…your hands are just a bit cold…” you manage to stammer out. There was no way in hell you could tell him the real reason.

“Apologies… I didn’t think about that…” he sheepishly put your leg back down and returned to his notes. Once you were free from the tantalizing sensation of his fingers tracing your skin, you were quickly shackled once more by the feeling of Jayce’s hand cupping your other leg.

“I get that it’s different V, but I’m trying to be practical for day to day wear. If it’s too short, it’ll keep sliding out of place throughout the day! It should start here and end here. So that it’s less likely to ride up or down during the course of the day.”

You could barely process what he was saying, as you were too fixated on the fact that his hand; his very warm hand that was nearly large enough to wrap around your calf, was now resting dangerously high on your leg, just below where you had gathered your skirt into your lap. Any higher and he’d be properly groping your thigh.

Jayce’s hands were rough as well, with quite a few prominent calluses and healed scrapes. The sensation of his palm on the sensitive skin of your thigh sent electricity through your nerves-tingly and warm.

And again. You’d be a liar if you claimed you’d never thought about it. But in a situation like this, sleep deprived and fatigued as you were, it was much more difficult to ignore that fact. The reality of his hands on you made your head spin.

Remain calm. Remain professional.

These are your friends. They are just trying to help.

Damn them for being so pretty

“Well, what do you think?”

“Yes, which do you like better?”

The questions snapped you out of your internal crisis.

“Huh? Oh, right! Uh….” It was difficult to form an answer with the both of them looking up at you so expectantly.

“Is…is there no middle ground? Maybe a m-mix of both?” You offer feebly. They look between each other competitively, before looking once more at their individual notes, and then back to you.

“I…suppose it could be done.” Was all Viktor was able to concede. Knowing how particular he could be, it was the best Jayce was going to get.

“Sorry if we got carried away…you know how we get” Jayce chuckled. “But now that that is out of the way, we can take a look at your back brace now.” He began absentmindedly caressing your leg with his thumb, a reassuring gesture no doubt. Viktor was doing something similar, his hand back under the crook of your knee. But the sensation, and the proximity made you tense up as you averted your gaze.

For a split second, confusion crossed his face-before he realized what he was doing. Jayce abruptly stood up, pulling his hand away. Now it was his turn to chuckle awkwardly, gesturing to Viktor to release your other leg as well. Viktor blinked, looking between you and Jayce, before looking down at the somewhat intimate position the two of you were currently in. He quickly followed suit, scooting his chair back and busying his hands with more notetaking, his ears definitely pink this time.

-you decided to promptly disregard their reactions. You were friends after all! Surely there was nothing else going on right? Anyone would get a little flustered in that kind of position. Your friends didn’t see you like that…right?

-besides, you could’ve sworn they had something going on with each other anyways…

-to remain productive (and totally not because you couldn’t look them in the eye) you got off of the table and promptly told them to turn around so you could get your sweater off

-they quickly complied, and the room was quiet aside from the rustling of clothes.

-not having a proper back brace, you had modified an old underbust corset with additional boning. But now you were starting to outgrow it once again, and there’s only so many times you could take it out before needing to find a new one.

-all you really wore beneath it was a thin slip so that the corset wouldn’t chafe your skin, but it was so flimsy you might as well have just been topless

And there you stood, hands on the table, under the white light of the overhead lamp. You shuddered as the cold air of the lab set in, and your own overthinking sent goosebumps over your exposed skin.

be normal. this is normal.

"Alright, now hurry up I'm getting cold-" you hiss, breaking the silence. You do not turn around, but you can feel their gaze on you; a moment of hesitation before you hear them approach. They are assessing you, yes, but there was something else beneath that as the two scientists raked their eyes over you: something you couldn’t quite place.

Viktor breaks the silence first, clearing his throat. Your eyes are still fixed on the table, the sudden sound causing you to flinch ever so slightly. You hope neither of them noticed. “Well…the design could definitely be worse, I can see where you tried to improve upon it…”

there was a but coming at the end of that sentence. You could feel it.

“But, In the long run it may end up doing more harm than good, considering the state of the garment itself…” he gently taps the row of tattered lacing running down the back. You nod, willing your voice not to crack. “So- what should we do? It’s all I can really afford at the moment…”

“Don’t worry about that- we’re more worried about making sure whatever we come up with is comfortable” Jayce chimes in, retrieving his measuring tape and notepad once more.

“Now, I need you to stand with your back as straight as possible for a moment, can you do that?” You nod, and you can feel him directly behind you as you straighten up. It’s uncomfortable, and you hear a few soft, telltale cracks as you do it. You groan quietly, and you feel him still for a moment.

“…don’t worry about it, just do what you gotta do.” You mumble, shifting your weight between your feet.

“Ah-uh- right! Right…” he laughs it off as he proceeds with his measurements and notes, quick, methodical, and very gentle. Every so often, skin would brush skin, his warm touch would linger, and you became increasingly aware of just how warm he was behind you: like a human space heater. It would be so easy in your exhausted state to simply lean back and melt into his chest, to bask in the warmth amidst the cold air of the lab and fall blissfully asleep.

Instead, with every ounce of composure you had, you avoided dozing off or leaning back. You could feel your eyes getting heavier before the deep timbre of Jayce’s voice brought you back.

“Alright, that’s done. You can rest now.”

You immediately slouch with a sluggish sigh, and you can nearly hear the furrowing of brows and the concerned expressions occurring behind you.

“We can stop if you are too fatigued, we should have enough to get started…” Viktor offered up, now nearly as close as Jayce was. You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

“No, no, I’m fine! It’s better to get this all over with now and save you both the trouble! So what next, huh?” You dredge up any remaining scraps of what could be perceived as enthusiasm as you turn your head to smile at Viktor.

The prospect of doing this again on a different day was already increasing your heartrate to an uncomfortable degree. Believe it or not; being examined by your two incredibly handsome scientist friends while half naked was something very anxiety inducing . Especially when you’ve been ignoring your growing feelings for said aforementioned handsome scientist friends. You felt awful for these thoughts and feelings, of course you did. So what better way to deal with this dilemma than to get it over with as quickly as possible. Right?

Wrong.

“Well, the last thing we really need is uh… well.” Jayce cleared his throat, carefully choosing his next words. “We’d want to get a look at your spine without your brace on, and take a few final measurements…”

Wrong. Dead wrong.

“… you need me to take it off?” You forced a nonchalant tone, unsure if it was convincing.

“Right. The measurements with it on will be slightly skewed since it is ill fitting in the first place…” Viktor added, a twinge of anxiety to his explanation. “But of course, only if you are comfortable doing so!” He quickly added. You began to spiral

Would it be weird to say yes? It would be more awkward if I refuse right? We’re all friends, this is fine! This is in a completely clinical context as well, so-

“Sure. No worries, uh-just… gimme a sec?” You blurted out before overthinking further, your hands leaving the table to fumble with the front closure of the corset. Your friends immediately averted their gaze, but did not completely turn around. Rather than dwelling on it, you focused on trying to get the busks open, before realizing you had laced it a bit tighter than usual that morning, thus making it a bit more difficult to get out of. You would need help. Great. You sigh.

“Uh… could one of you unlace me? It’s harder to get out of like this….”

The quiet that follows makes you cringe, and sets you a bit on edge, before Viktor pipes up behind you.

“Y-yes just a second”

You soon feel his cool hands against your back, nimble fingers finding the messy knot that kept your laces tight and marking short work of it. All three of you were quiet; no banter, no chatting, no bickering. Just the soft sound of laces being pulled through worn down grommets. Once it was loosened, you let out a breath it felt like you had been holding for a lifetime, slouching a bit as your back screamed at you.

Viktor leaned next to you, softly murmuring as he reassuringly placed a hand on your back. “Is that better?” His voice was low, soft, and held a bit of…restraint? You hoped the heat rising to your face wasn’t too noticeable, as the innocent action sent forth a troubling warmth in your gut. Not unpleasant, far from it. But troubling, given the circumstance.

“Mhm… y-yeah that’s better. Thank you” you murmured back, forcing your attention towards getting your corset off. The busks unhooked with ease as you shrugged off the patchwork garment, as well as your undershirt. As it fell to the floor, you instinctively moved to stretch, now free from the compression of your brace. A series of loud pops and cracks ring out into the lab as you did so, causing you to sigh in a unique mixture of relief and ache that you had grown accustomed to.

Once you had finished, you realized two things:

One: you were now completely topless in front of your two best friends

Two: neither of them had looked away this time.

Which could totally mean nothing

Upon this realization you kept your eyes forward, standing up as straight as you could once more, finding balance on the table.

“…well? go on, g-go ahead and look” you commanded weakly. Swallowing the anticipation that came with not being able to see them. Whose hands would you feel now? Whose breath would tickle your ear? You blamed your lack of sleep for how much your mind was wandering.

You felt a warm finger trace slowly down your spine, down from the nape of your neck, past your shoulder blades, before stopping and slowing down even further, following the unnatural curve that ended toward the middle of your back. It was Jayce, you realized. And a part of you was flustered even further now knowing you could tell it was him by just the feeling of his hands.

There was low murmuring, the sound of pencil on paper, and then Viktor’s hand, tracing from the bottom of your spine through your skirt, to the middle of you back before also stopping.

“…you’re too quiet. It’s unsettling” you manage to quip, starting to feel exposed under the bright light.

“…it’s your spine. You should’ve been fitted with a brace ages ago” Viktor finishes tracing his line up your back “a proper one, no offense to your handiwork of course.” He clarified.

“That bad huh?” You huff, wincing at the implication. You had known there was an issue for years now. But all you could do was your best in terms of treatment and preventative care. Every time it had crossed your mind to get checked out, you heard the condescending doctor’s voice echoing inside your skull: “you’re being dramatic.”

“Luckily, It seems manageable with a proper brace, and you already stretch and exercise, yes?” Viktor inquired behind you, his hand now resting on your shoulder. You hummed affirmatively, as you let yourself slouch once more. You knew it only contributed to your poor posture, but the temporary relief was worth it momentarily. The urge to fall asleep right then and there was overwhelming, even despite the cold. You could feel both of them shuffle back a bit as you did.

“Sorry, sorry! Did we take too long? Are you cold?” Jayce apologizes as he tries to get you warm again, picking up your sweater and getting it right-sides-out again. You let out a sleepy mumble as you reach back for it, turning toward him with your hand out.

Turning toward him.

After a few seconds of facing them with your hand out, and being confused as to why they were just standing there, avoiding your gaze, cheeks getting redder by the second; it hit you.

“Oh-oh shit! sorry, sorry, my bad-” you snatch up your sweater and quickly yank it on and you apologize profusely and so quickly that the words were barely recognizable.

Well, you were wide awake now.

You start rambling, trying to cram how you were cold and sleep deprived and achy all into the world’s fastest sentence as you got yourself together, gathering up your discarded braces. The only thing stopping you from bolting out of the door was the grinding of your now fully unsupported knees. You winced as you pitifully shuffled back to your chair, moving to put the braces back on.

The air was thick with…something.

It wasn’t quite tension, and although being a bit awkward it wasn’t quite full on embarrassment either. But it was something, and it was intense.

“….I’ll get going then…“ you murmur, standing on unsteady legs. Except now you weren’t sure if you were unsteady because of the pain, or because of the dizzying memory of their hands on your skin.

For a moment, your fatigue catches up to you; your legs feel like static and your vision blurs around the edges. Before you even have the chance to stumble, Jayce’s arms are around you.

“Easy there! Just give us a second, we’ll get you back to your dorm okay?”

“But-“ you were cut off by the sound of Viktor shushing you and guiding you over to a couch in the corner of the lab. The two men eyed you with a seriousness that felt strange in comparison to your usual lighthearted interactions. But it was oddly comforting now, as you let yourself sink into the plush sofa

“Rest for a while, you don’t have any more classes today, right?” It was less of a question and more of a reminder, as he retrieved a blanket to drape over you. You really had no say in the matter, and the couch was so comfortable….

You felt relieved, cared for, and so so very sleepy...

So you fell asleep.

Once you were certifiably slumbering, your two impromptu caregivers let out shuddering breaths they hadn't realized they were holding, exchanging knowing glances.

Little did you know, they had been struggling just as much as you, if not more.

"....Let's get back to work." Viktor mumbled, forcing his eyes away from your relaxed form on the couch. He gripped his cane tightly as he turned away, retrieving his notes. Upon noticing Jayce hadn't moved yet, he huffed at having to repeat himself.

"Jayce."

"Right! sorry..." Jayce nodded, slowly backtracking to the main worktable. Couldn't help the deja vu that hit him as he remembered your topless form leaning against it, illuminated under the overhead light. He groaned and shook his head.

"Heaven knows we need the distraction."

--------

tadaaa*~~~ took me long enough! p2 will be up relatively soon, i just needed to stop nitpicking.

part two will be primarily from the boys' POV!

[xechu]

[Devour] Chapter 2: Yearning

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: please read my blog's rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, angst, eventual smut, hurt/no comfort, explicit sexual content, undertones of misogyny (because the 'olden days'), mature themes, depiction of gore and violence, mentions of pregnancy and abortion. Please note that these warnings pertain to the entire series as a whole, and not just to this specific chapter.

Tags: mini series, angst, smut, Heian Era, true form Sukuna

Summary: Sukuna brings you back to a temple, where he resides. There you also meet Uraume. You begin to doubt if running away was the best idea, but then, Sukuna offers to be your ally. Unbeknownst to you, he has his own ulterior motives for helping you.

A/N: It's here! Not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this chapter. Since this is a mini series, I would say we're already about 35% through the story, things will progress quickly in the upcoming chapters. Based on my planning, I'm looking at about four more chapters. I don't have an exact release date for Chapter 3 like I did with this chapter, but I'll post an update when it's almost complete! If you would like to be added on the tag list for this series, please let me know/leave a comment here. Thank you so much for reading and stay tuned. x

Masterlist: < Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 (To be continued) >

Sukuna had always deemed love meaningless. It was a feeling that held people back, making them irrational and reckless. Over the years, he had witnessed the greatest kingdoms burn and the strongest men fall, all in the name of 'love.' But the tragedy lay in the fact that, after all was said and done, that love seldom lasted. At the end of the day, people were weak and fickle, rendering love volatile. He often wanted to ask those who sacrificed everything for love: Was it all worth it in the end?

In order to attain his height of power—to become the strongest—Sukuna had given up everything, including his humanity. He had mastered the art of detachment, for attachments only served to tie one down. Letting go of all things was the inevitable cost of power, but it was an easy and insignificant sacrifice for someone like him—who had nothing to lose in the first place.

Yet, despite the King of Curses' strong convictions, there remained one glaring contradiction in his life: you. No matter how hard he tried, he could not detach himself from you. Even after all these years, his burning desire for you was a flame he could not quell, and it only seemed to grow hungrier with time.

Throughout the years, Sukuna had conditioned himself into believing that you were always going to be an unattainable dream—a fantasy that was never meant to become reality. It was better that it remained this way. You deserved to live a peaceful life, and he could continue to live out his days as the King of Curses without restraint.

But what should he do—now that his dream had become reality?

For someone with a wretched life like his, he never believed in any gods. But for the first time in his life, the King of Curses acknowledged that this reunion must have been the universe's divine will—a preordained fate. It seemed that the two of you were destined to be together.

Yes, he thought to himself, since the universe has willed it, then you shall be his exception.

He vowed that as long as he kept you by his side, you would not be a source of his weakness.

At this realization, a dark possessiveness took over him.

This time he would stake his claim.

---

Though you were no longer the little girl Sukuna had once met, he couldn't help but notice how small you were under his hold. Some things didn't change; you were still his little flower.

“It’s me, flower,” he said, urgency creeping into his voice as if he were calling into your subconscious, imploring you to remember.

You trembled in his embrace; the adrenaline coursing through you made it difficult to think straight. His words did not register as you struggled to gather your chaotic thoughts, while your mind screamed at you to run.

You remind me of flowers. The voice suddenly echoed in your mind.

“R-Ryo?” you gasped, finally making the connection.

With shaking hands, you roamed his figure, seeking confirmation in the darkness. Your fingertips softly brushed over his features. Was this a dream? Had you already died? How was it that after all these years, he was finally here—especially in your most dire moment? The surrealness of this situation felt too good to be true.

“I-It really is you,” your voice quivered with emotion. “I-I can't believe it. All this time... I thought I would never see you again."

“I'm here now, flower,” he said, capturing your hand in his. “Come with me; it’s not safe.”

Before you could utter another word, he effortlessly scooped you up, and you instinctively held on to him, tightening your grip, afraid that if you let go he would slip away again.

Sukuna traversed the forest at an inhuman speed. He seemed to know the terrain well, navigating it with ease, but for you, all you saw was unending darkness; the gust of wind threading through your hair was the only sign that you were moving. Your heart raced as he cradled you against his strong body; you could feel the heat radiating from him, evoking a warm and familiar feeling within you—a feeling that you have yearned for so many years.

Moments later, you found yourself in a clearing. Under the clear night sky, vast greenery and towering mountains loomed around you. At the foot of one mountain, a grand tree stood beside an ancient temple. Sukuna gently set you on your feet, and now that you were out in the clearing, you could get a better look at him. Standing before you was no longer the little boy from your memories; he had transformed into a formidable man—perhaps the largest person you had ever seen. He wore an oversized kimono, his bare chest exposed, and his muscular build attested to the life he had lived throughout the years. Your gaze was then drawn to the unmistakable bloodstains on his clothing.

“Are you hurt?” your brows furrowed in concern as your hand ghosted over the stains.

“Nothing worth fretting over; they do not belong to me,” he said, a smile involuntarily curving his lips at the concern you displayed.

Sukuna lifted your chin to meet his gaze. In the moonlight, he could see you with much more clarity.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, a hint of longing evident in his eyes.

Heat rushed to your face at his touch, but you were grateful that the night concealed it.

“How did you know to find me?" you quietly asked.

“The forest and the mountain are my domain,” Sukuna replied, brushing his thumb over your lower lip, as if he was trying to engrave your features into his memory. “You were lucky I found you before something else did.”

Something in your gut told you it couldn't have been mere coincidence, but you decided to keep that thought to yourself. It wasn't the time nor the place for interrogations.

"I see," you smiled wearily. "Thank you... you saved me yet again."

Your words stirred a nostalgic memory within him.

As you continued to stand there in silence, the brave facade you had been putting up began to crumble. All the events that had led you to this moment settled within you, and the feelings you had long suppressed surged to the surface—grief, resentment, confusion, fear, relief, yearning—a tempest you could no longer keep at bay.

“All these years, I’ve been searching for you,” your voice cracked, tears brimming in your eyes.

"I know," he replied, his tone low and hushed.

“Y-You did?"

Sukuna nodded.

"Then why, Ryo? Did you not want to see me?” Your chest tightened at his admission, and tears began to roll down your face.

“It was for the best.” Sukuna's jaw clenched. The sight of you crying evoked a sense of dread within him.

“The best for who?”

A brief silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words.

“That no longer matters, flower. We're here now, and I won't let you go again,” he said, gently wiping a stray tear from your face.

You knew he was hiding something from you, but that mattered little right now. Your body reacted before your mind, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

---

Wooden floors creaked beneath you as you crossed the threshold of the temple, and an inexplicable wave of energy washed over you. It was intense yet comforting, like the warmth of the sun—like him.

The temple was small and modest, but it felt peaceful and comfortable. It was also evident that the wooden interior had been well-maintained despite how ancient it was. The air was filled with the soothing scents of incense and cedarwood.

The earlier conversation with Sukuna loomed over you, leaving so many questions unanswered. While you could still sense a semblance of the little boy within him, he also felt unfamiliar and distant; after all, so much time had passed. You longed to know everything about him, to fill in the gaps, but perhaps that would have to wait.

As you took a closer look around the main hall, your eyes wandered to the beautifully crafted sliding doors at the back, which were fully open to reveal a serene garden that captivated you with its lush greenery and vibrant flowers.

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathed.

Sukuna looked at you under the soft glow of the candlelight illuminating the hall, and your heart began to race under his gaze amid the intimacy of the setting. He watched you intently as if he could hear the intense beating of your heart—

“Sukuna-sama, you’re back,” a gentle voice cut through the air.

You turned to find a young person standing there. Their gender was ambiguous, but their appearance reminded you of winter's first snowfall. They exuded a calm and serene presence.

“Uraume,” Sukuna acknowledged, gesturing toward you. “She is with me. Draw her a bath and prepare some fresh clothes. I’ll get a fire started.”

“Yes, Sukuna-sama,” Uraume replied, hastily leaving for the back of the temple.

You watched as Sukuna stripped off his kimono, revealing his muscular upper body adorned with tattoos.

“Ryo, where are you going?” you asked, trying to mask the fluster in your voice.

Sukuna turned back to look at you with a smile. “I’m going to hunt some game. We’ll fill our stomachs before going to bed.”

---

The warmth of the hot spring quickly melted away the stress of the day. You still could not wrap your head around the uncanny turn of events; it felt like a nightmare turned dream. Instead of being married to Lord Yamamoto, you were now reunited with the one person who had always occupied your thoughts. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you reached for a washcloth to gently remove your makeup. You knew that there would be other matters to address later, but for now, you wanted to savor this brief respite.

Sinking the lower half of your head into the water, you blew small bubbles, and images of Sukuna and the man he had become flashed in your mind, sending a warmth throughout your body.

Sukuna's renown had been spreading in recent years, and you were acutely aware of his reputation. Whispers surrounded him, calling him the King of Curses—the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the era. There was much debate over whether he was merely a man or a deity, while others believed him to be a demon in disguise. Your village, having a strong aversion to jujutsu sorcery, viewed it as more of a curse than a gift and seemed to believe he was nothing short of a demon.

Regardless, you had only ever known him as Ryo, so you never gave much thought to the rumors. Man, deity, or demon—whatever he was, you would have accepted him unconditionally. Despite the time apart, you still felt an inexplicable tether to him.

I won't let you go again.

Those words stirred an emotion within you when he had initially spoken them, but doubts and hesitation lingered in your mind. Had it not been for your current predicament, you would have been more inclined to stay with him.

You held your breath and submerged yourself entirely beneath the warm water, hoping to silence these chaotic thoughts—even if just for a moment.

---

Feeling refreshed as you stepped out of the temple in a new set of clothes, you noticed that a fire had already been started and that Uraume was preparing some vegetables.

“Uraume-san,” you smiled as you walked over, “is there anything I can help you with?”

“Y/N-san,” Uraume exclaimed, a gentle light in their eyes. “All the preparations are nearly complete. Why don’t you sit by the fire first? Sukuna-sama should be back soon.”

You hesitated and looked to see if there was still anything to help with, but noticing how there was not much else, you acquiesced and made your way to the fire. You watched in awe as Uraume skillfully finished the last touches of their work. Soon after, they settled down beside you. It was a comfortable silence between the two of you, accompanied by the crackling of the fire.

“Have you and Ryo always lived here?” you tried to make conversation.

Uraume nodded, their expression thoughtful. “We’ve lived here for quite some time. I owe him my life.”

You looked at Uraume, curiosity piqued.

“I was at death’s door when he found me as a child,” Uraume confessed softly. “He took me under his wing.”

“He’s always been kind.” You smiled contemplatively.

“Yes,” Uraume agreed. There was a brief pause. “He…has also mentioned you before.”

“He has?”

Uraume nodded. “He said there was once a girl he met who lived in a village not too far from here. She was as kind as she was beautiful, and she reminded him of flowers. When I saw you, I knew you were that girl.”

It warmed your heart to know that he had spoken about you, but it also felt bittersweet.

“Ah, he’s back,” Uraume remarked, glancing behind you.

Your eyes widened at the spectacular sight before you. Sukuna had a deer slung over his shoulder, effortlessly making his way toward the two of you; he trekked as if the deer weighed nothing.

Sukuna dropped the deer by the fire, and Uraume instinctively got up, ready to prepare the meat. You watched as Sukuna slashed the deer's throat, collecting the blood in a bowl. A wave of queasiness washed over you, and you looked away, unable to face the brutal sight. Sukuna settled down beside you while Uraume got to work, efficiently cutting up the rest of the deer.

“Drink every last drop,” he commanded, handing the bowl to you.

“I—I don't think I can,” you put your hand out in defense, the metallic stench making your stomach churn.

“You are malnourished,” he said, grabbing your wrist to examine its size. “Have you not been looking after yourself?”

“I have,” you insisted, attempting to wiggle your wrist free from his grasp. His touch felt searing against your skin.

“You will drink this, unless you would like me to feed you,” Sukuna insisted, handing you the bowl once more, the intensity in his eyes leaving no room for argument.

You took the bowl in both hands, trembling slightly. As you watched the thick red liquid swirl inside, you held your breath and brought it to your lips, tilting it ever so slightly and allowing the liquid to slip into your mouth and down your throat. Just as you were about to lower the bowl, Sukuna's hand clasped over yours, tilting the bowl upward to ensure you finished everything.

“That’s it, flower—every last drop,” he said, his voice low and steady. When he was satisfied that you had consumed all of it, he released his grip and took the bowl from your hands. You gagged at the aftertaste, coughing as a trickle of blood ran down your chin. Sukuna's eyes grew dark at the sight; he wiped the blood from your chin with his thumb, then licked it clean.

“Ryo—!” you gasped, teary-eyed. “N-no more of that, please.”

“That will depend on how well you eat,” a hint of playfulness threaded through his voice.

“Do you drink this too?” you asked, clearing your throat.

"Of course, the blood of a deer is a highly nutritious delicacy. Did you know in some places, it is a drink shared by a married couple on their wedding night?" Sukuna smirked.

You shudder at the thought. This blood drinking experience was something that you hoped would be your first and last. But the slight implication that Sukuna made at the end also made you a bit shy.

Uraume handed a plate of skewered meat to Sukuna, and you marveled at how quickly they had prepared it. You watched as Sukuna stabbed each skewer into the ground by the fire, your attention lingering on the flames that seemed to beckon you.

"I should have whisked you away from the village earlier, had I known you were not being fed properly." Sukuna intently watched you with one of his eyes, sensing your tension.

"Well, why didn't you?" you muttered. The words escaped your mouth before you could stop it.

You were sure he had his reasons for staying away, yet you couldn’t hide your disappointment in him for keeping his distance. So much precious time had been lost, and so many what-ifs lingered in your mind.

It was juvenile, but you often dreamt of how the two of you would grow up together—an inseparable duo, the best of friends. Then, when you came of age, he would have asked you to follow him, and you would have gladly followed him anywhere. The two of you would travel all over the land, experiencing the world side by side. Perhaps, somewhere along the way, he would have asked you to marry him, and you would have said 'yes' without skipping a beat—

"Come now, don't sulk, flower," Sukuna said, breaking you out of your thoughts. "You're here now. We will make up for lost time."

"You speak as if I'm going to be staying here for good," you couldn't help but challenge him a little.

It might have been your imagination, but you thought his expression darkened for a split second.

"It sounds like you have somewhere to go then."

"I—well, I didn’t have too much time to think details. But I planned to make my way to a far out village, where no one will be able to find me."

"That would be difficult," Sukuna hummed.

"It’s worth a try… better than yielding to the fate I was subjugated to." You hugged your knees.

"Enlighten me, what was someone’s bride doing in the middle of the forest?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

There was a hesitation in telling him about your plight, but you knew it was also an unavoidable topic—after all, he had saved you, so an explanation was due at the very least.

“I ran away… from a marriage I wanted no part of.”

“How bold,” he chuckled. “It’s very like you.”

“It’s hardly a laughing matter, Ryo,” you huffed, anxiety evident in your voice.

“But you've successfully escaped. Should this not be a cause to celebrate?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“I don't know if I would consider it successful just yet," you narrowed your eyes. "I didn’t just run away from any man; I ran away from a lord. My village hoped to leverage my marriage with Lord Yamamoto for aid. There will be repercussions for my actions.”

Sukuna listened as he rotated the skewers.

"Hm, I suppose that is quite the predicament. Whatever shall you do then?" His question came out more like a taunt than a show of concern.

"Are you mocking my situation?" You frowned, your expression dropping as self-doubt crept in. You had to admit that you'd been reckless with your decision, and you didn't exactly have a reliable plan. You wouldn’t have even made it out of the forest had it not been for Sukuna.

“Of course not. Don't look so defeated," he softly tsked, smoothing the crease between your brows with his fingers.

You looked at him with a mixture of surprise and hesitation.

"Is there any reason for you to worry if I am going to be by your side?" he returned your gaze, a burning confidence in his eyes.

“It’s not so simple, Ryo. I don’t want you to be caught in my problems—”

“A mere lord and your measly village is not a problem,” Sukuna replied, passing a skewer to you.

You reluctantly accepted the skewer, your fingers momentarily brushing against his hand during the exchange. As divine as the meat smelled, you couldn't bring yourself to eat; your worries and anxiety loomed large over your head.

"It's not going to eat itself if you keep staring at it," Sukuna sighed, crossing his four arms and giving you a stern look.

Taking a tiny bite, your eyes momentarily lit up. It tasted even better than it smelled. Before you knew it, you had devoured the entire skewer, and Sukuna was already handing you another one. Perhaps you were hungrier than you had thought, but his pleased expression did not escape you—he cared, and that alone filled you with immense happiness.

"Do you not wish to stay here?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"It's not about what I want," you shook your head. "What if something happens to both of you because of me?"

"You needn't worry about us, Y/N-san; we are more than capable of dealing with Lord Yamamoto," Uraume smiled at you. Their gentle reassurance only seemed to amplify your guilt.

"We can't be sure of that—"

“Are you not aware of what they call me?”

You sighed, a sense of apprehension filling your chest. "I am..."

“Then if you know my reputation, you should understand that even if Lord Yamamoto and his entire arsenal, along with your village, were to descend upon us right now, they would not stand a chance.”

Sukuna seemed adamant about helping, but that only served to heighten your uneasiness. It wasn't that you doubted his capabilities; but you also understood that your actions would have dire consequences. A runaway bride of Lord Yamamoto wasn't a matter that would be overlooked so easily. Surely, the four men who had escorted you had reported back to their lord that you had escaped. Even if Sukuna could easily deal with them, he would be branded a criminal—forever having to be on the run. He had endured enough hardships in his life, and it felt like you were only adding to his strife. You didn't deserve this kindness from him; his life was fine before you came along.

"This will be your home. You will be safe as long as you stay by my side. So stay here, Y/N.” An unexpected possessiveness laced Sukuna's voice.

You looked up at Sukuna in surprise; you had never heard him call your name before. His eyes silently pleaded with you to stay—shattering your resolve.

"Tell me you need my help, flower," Sukuna urged, looking into your eyes with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

A lingering silence filled the air, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Help me, Ryo…" you finally said.

---

You hadn't felt so full in a long time. Sukuna had ensured you ate your share of food before retiring to bed. Following behind him, you were led to your sleeping accommodations, and to your surprise, he took you into his chamber, which overlooked a small private garden and hot spring.

The temple was modest in size, containing only two bedrooms. It didn’t feel right to intrude on Uraume's private quarters, especially since it was Sukuna's decision to keep you, but he also couldn’t deny he had other intentions.

Before crawling into bed, you turned to meet Sukuna's gaze.

“Ryo… I don’t know how I could ever repay you. If there's anything I can do for you, you must tell me," you said earnestly.

“Hmm,” he paused, feigning contemplation.

You looked at him eagerly, trying to anticipate what he could ask for.

"Anything?" he drawled, rubbing his chin.

You nodded.

“Alright," he smirked, "swear yourself to me.”

Your eyes widened. You weren’t exactly sure what that entailed, but you trusted him implicitly. He most likely needed an extra hand with taking care of the temple and doing some extra work around here.

“A-are you sure that’s all you want? That hardly seems adequate, I am troubling you after all.” You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeves.

"You undermine yourself, flower."

“Oh, well, I do have many skills I could offer, and I promise to be useful around here. I’m quite knowledgeable about plants, herbs, and flowers. I may not be as good a cook as Uraume, but—”

"Staying by my side is enough," he interjected.

There was a sincerity in his voice that was new to you, making your heart do flips inside your chest.

"Ryo..." you spoke quietly, clasping your hands tightly. "I might misunderstand if you're so kind to me."

Oh, what a delight you were. Sukuna felt an intense urge to smother you.

“Well, what if I wanted more than just your domestic skills?” he asked lowly, taking a lock of your hair into his hands.

Your heart raced, and suddenly the room felt hot as you understood his implications.

“Is that… what you truly desire?"

"And if it is?"

There was a brief pause.

Just this morning, you were still in utter despair, wholly expecting to be wedded to a monster. But now, in this moment, it was not Lord Yamamoto before you, but rather the man of your dreams—the only man you had wished to marry. He had long claimed your mind and heart; what more was your body?

"Then take me," your voice was barely above a whisper.

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, but why did he feel so disappointed by your response? It almost rolled off your tongue too easily.

"You would just give yourself to any man, so long as they ask?"

"N-no, you misunderstand!"

Sukuna remained silent, the look in his eyes demanding you to elaborate.

"If that were true, I wouldn’t have ran away from Lord Yamamoto. You're not just any man to me, Ryo. I—" love you. The heat crept up to your ears.

Your timid confession sent a chilling thrill through his body, awakening a primal hunger within him, he could no longer resist.

“Do you truly wish to be mine?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt dizzy under his touch and gaze.

"Yes..."

"Look at me and say it." He hissed.

"I'm yours, Ryo. I want to be yours." You met his eyes and gently took his hand, placing it over your heart, hoping he could feel how violently it was beating against your chest.

“You didn’t need to ask me to swear myself to you; I would have gladly followed you anywhere. I've felt that way ever since we were children.”

Sukuna was rarely caught off guard. The first time he recalled was when you approached him as a child, and the second was this very moment. You had just confessed your feelings for him and expressed a desire to stay with him of your own volition. Nobody else had ever been able to elicit these feelings from him, and the dominion you unknowingly held over him was both terrifying and thrilling.

"Then I will take you, flower—your heart, body, and soul."

Without sparing another moment, he wrapped his hand behind your head and crushed his lips against yours in a searing kiss. The world around you fell silent.

For once, it felt as if the universe had smiled upon his wretched life.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the pictures used for the banner.

Taglist: @paradisestarfishh @ssetsuka

[bluecaitjinx]

What sort of every day activities do you think Jinx and Caitlyn would do if they were married for a long time. Like after 15 years

oooh this is such a fun question!

post-canon, i can imagine jinx and caitlyn settled down in piltover because of caitlyn’s sense of responsibility to the city, but they are definitely the type to travel a lot. especially as they get older.

with that in mind, here’s a list of caitjinx married-life headcanons:

travel. anytime they visit a new region of runeterra, jinx’s primary interest is sight-seeing. caitlyn often worries that “sight-seeing” equates to getting into trouble (and she is usually correct), but jinx has always been naturally curious and adventurous. for someone who grew up in the fissures, fresh air and foreign landscapes are a welcome change. (though, their visit to bilgewater reminds jinx a little bit of home).

“oh my gods, cait, everything here is huge! do ya think they sell pirate hats?”

caitlyn’s primary interest, when not traveling for diplomatic reasons, is the different cuisine each region has to offer. she does plenty of research into local dishes and makes a list of ones she’d like to try. jinx takes it as a challenge to find each item on caitlyn’s list, dragging her wife from food stall to food stall until they find what they’re looking for.

ionia. caitlyn visits ionia for the first time on her 30th birthday. jinx had been planning it as a surprise for the year prior with the knowledge of caitlyn’s ionian ancestry. although jinx tends to be more spontaneous than meticulous, she made a detailed itinerary for their trip, ending with a boat ride in the lake of lighted lilies. it’s safe to say that caitlyn shed a tear or two.

souvenirs. whenever they return home from their travels, jinx comes back with a trinket or weapon, and caitlyn comes back with a practical item of clothing or an ornate decoration to add to their home. as they grow older, they dedicate an entire wall in the study to displaying their souvenirs and other fond memories.

“is this one from our wedding?” / “no, darling, that’s from when you nearly got us killed in demacia.”

clothes. jinx manages to stain, soil, and rip whatever it is she’s wearing, even on the most mundane of days. whether it be paint splotches on her shirt when she’s working on an art piece, or a tear in the leg of her pants after a particularly nasty fall, jinx’s wardrobe has seen better days. caitlyn, of course, finds it both incredibly endearing and slightly irritating, making sure to playfully chastise her wife each time she has to hand wash or sew jinx’s clothes back together. not that she really minds.

art. jinx is an artist. it’s something caitlyn greatly admires about her. she is both jinx’s number one supporter (and financier) and her muse. jinx will sit herself in front of caitlyn’s desk with an easel or a sketchpad while caitlyn works and paint/draw portrait after portrait. somehow, jinx manages to make every piece unique, stylized, and full of color regardless of the drab setting.

in a bout of self-consciousness early on in their marriage, caitlyn once asked jinx to paint a portrait of her in which she had both of her eyes. in response, jinx proceeded to crest the most breathtaking portrait of caitlyn, with one eye and without her eyepatch, serving as a reminder of the woman’s natural beauty. the love and reverence that went into each stroke of jinx’s paintbrush can be felt by anyone who views it in the main sitting room of the kiramman estate. it’s one of caitlyn’s favorite pieces.

tattoos. jinx gave herself her own blue smoke cloud tattoo at the age of 18, a testament to her artistic ability (and her left-handedness). lying in bed on their wedding night, caitlyn asked jinx to give her a tattoo. not right then, but sometime in the near future. jinx jumped at the opportunity, and after their honeymoon, had caitlyn lying on her stomach as jinx began what would soon become a tattoo of the kiramman house crest and two crossed rifles on the center of caitlyn’s back. (inspired by https://x.com/roosdrawsthings/status/1823442651720417367?s=46&t=6XyYORDs_ReW59UnMyq_-g)

guns. jinx and caitlyn, as we all know, are excellent marksmen. their aim is parallel to none besides each other, which makes for very fun competitions amongst themselves to see who’s the best sharp-shooter. they keep a tally over the years of matches won between them, and it’s always neck and neck. when caitlyn develops arthritis in her old age, her and jinx retire the friendly contests. their tally ends in a tie.

care. despite the mutual hatred and obsession that founded their initial rivalry, jinx and caitlyn’s marriage is surprisingly free of strife. they got all of the fighting and trying to kill each other out of their system in the early days of their relationship, leaving them with a playful dynamic full of banter and snark. that, and a whole lot of tenderness. jinx and caitlyn have been through hell. they are all too eager to show one another the love and affection they both crave in the wake of the cruelty they’ve endured.

jinx likes to braid caitlyn’s hair, especially whenever it gets longer. caitlyn hates the upkeep and maintenance of having long hair, but she holds off on cutting it with the knowledge of how much jinx adores it. no matter how many times jinx teaches caitlyn to braid as well, the finished product of caitlyn’s earnest attempts could be mistaken for a toddler’s handiwork. jinx tries not to laugh at her. she really does. but the frustrated frown (pout) on cailtyn’s lips breaks her resolve.

“it looks cute!” / “oh, don’t patronize me-“ / “no, no, i swear. you’re gettin’ better. you’re just overthinkin’ it.”

nightmares. it’s not uncommon for either jinx or caitlyn to suddenly awaken in the middle of the night due to a bad dream or night terror. the occurrences of them lessen as time goes on, but every once in a while, one of the two women will jolt up in bed, breathing ragged and a sheen of cold sweat on their brow.

if it’s caitlyn, she rarely cries but will allow herself to be coaxed into lying back down and held by jinx. with a few minutes of receiving soothing touches and murmured reassurances, caitlyn will decide whether or not she wants to talk about it (usually she doesn’t).

if it’s jinx, she wakes up with a scream or a sob and will quickly dissolve into tears. caitlyn will gauge if jinx is okay to be touched (usually she is) and then will draw her wife into a warm and secure embrace, protecting jinx from the horrors of her own mind. jinx typically takes a while to calm down, but then caitlyn will begin singing the french lullaby that her mother used to sing to her as a child, and suddenly, jinx can breathe easier.

“can you sing it again…?” / “of course, my love. close your eyes. just focus on my voice. nothing else.”

music. jinx’s instrument of choice is her voice, whereas caitlyn’s preferred instrument is the piano. the kiramman household has never seen a quiet day with jinx singing any chance she gets, or with caitlyn brushing up on her piano skills when she decides to tap into old interests and hobbies. (she even cracks open a french textbook from her schooling days but immediately slides it back onto the shelf at the sight of “passé composé.”)

jinx adores caitlyn’s playing of the piano just as much as caitlyn adores jinx’s singing. if jinx stumbles upon caitlyn playing a piece she recognizes, she will sit next to her wife on the bench and sing along. it’s a peaceful moment of connection in the otherwise chaotic and unpredictable lives they lead.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 100

One hundred fuckin’ days. God. Actually happened. 

I spent 3/4ths of the year drawing more Junkan art than I think anyone else on the internet ever has. Which might be presumptuous of me, maybe i’m just looking in the wrong places y’know? I’m a solid second place bare minimum.

And like, that’s still pretty funny right? This whole event is something I’m gonna cherish forever, the memories, the art itself, the friends I made because of it. But like, c’mon. I drew 100 fucking pieces, learned new skills like digital painting, animation, all that shit, for a ship that I used to hate, and a ship that for the longest time I thought was gonna get me fuckin banished to the deepest depths of the internet just for drawing a poor sketch of them kissing. This ship has become more deeply entwined into who I am as a person that it’s passed up Tokomaru, the ship that literally made me realize I’m a woman.

It’s gotta be at least a little funny, right?

Ah but enough of that, I can talk more on that subject a bit later. For now I reckon I should focus on our art piece for today! Wouldn’t you agree?

Yeah it’s the Wedding. I’d say even before Day 60 I decided the final pic of the Project would be The Wedding, even before I decided to draw a comic of the proposal. Because like, c’mon, it’s basic but how the fuck else was I supposed to end of the project? With something that ISN’T a wedding????

And very shocking to hear after this entire project has gone by, but I did in fact scale back this pic massively. You wanna know what the original idea was?? 22 images, each one depicting different parts of the wedding and afterparty, including the kiss at the end. And the kiss at the end? I was gonna feature every character from the 3 main classes + Ruruka, Seiko, and Yasuke. Fucking why??? Because Excess is all I know people ITS ALL I KNOW.

However I had decided that I wanted this project finished and ready before October, because I wanted to do the Vampire Fic to coincide with Day 30. And again, say it with me here, “Jem was severely burnt out on the project!” 

So it went from 22 images, to “However many I can get done in time + the big group shot” and then that became “Just the big group shot,” and then finally, i cracked and just drew The Kiss. 

Speaking of which before I divulge some more info about the original plan, i’ll get all the fun things about the actual art I did go through with.

As you can tell I shaded this differently from anything in the project. I normally have two different ways of shading art, I don’t think these are the proper words but I call them Soft Shading and Hard Shading. If you need immediate examples, Day 95 was Soft Shaded, and Day 94 was Hard Shaded. Generally speaking I prefer to do Hard Shading, as I think it works better with the rest of my style, and also just looks better in general. Soft Shading is what I do for pics with like, a very specific tone and energy to them that I can’t really put to words. It’s also significantly easier to do compared to Hard Shading. 

A few months back for a commission of Kaede and Marceline from Adventure Time hanging out (yes this is relevant) I was trying to capture a very specific aesthetic that I’m obsessed with called Frutiger Aero. This mostly was in the background, however when lighting the pic I needed a very specific aesthetic that I didn’t know how to capture with just one of my shading styles. So . . . I fuckin did both. And in my opinion (which is crazy because this requires I compliment myself) it looked fuckin great. That said it was significantly harder.

I think I’ve done it only one other time after this, but I don’t remember what the pic was if it exists at all. But obviously as you can see, I decided that to really commemorate the occasion I’d go all out and do both shading styles again. It was very worth it, but fun fact! Doing this style on Roses is a fucking pain in the ass and if I ever have to do it again I will fucking SCREAM!

Anyway, the pic was definitely a lot harder to work on because of that stylistic choice, but the end result makes up for it by a massive margin. 

Hope ya’ll like the dresses because they were the hardest part of this! Fun fact, Val (She’s back!) did a chapter for her legendary Year of Love and Despair fic where the gals are in wedding dresses. And the designs she came up with are amazing! I still really wanna draw em when I get a chance! However! I woulda felt bad if I just yoinked em for this, so I had to do everything in my power to come up with completely different designs. And given that I am a perfectionist, that was significantly more difficult than it probably shoulda been. But I did it! I really like how Mikan’s dress turned out specifically, I thought giving her a fit that covered up more skin than a normal wedding dress would be fitting for her. Also I really like drawing Mikan’s hair in a bun, I never had a chance to say that so I’mma say that now. 

Wow fuck I just realized there’s probably a lot of random details or thought processes I have on this ship that I just never got an opportunity to talk about, either because I had a different topic to cover on previous posts, or I just forgot, or I just didn’t have a good segway! Crazy right? 

Also yes! Shading Junko’s hair was heavenly~

Okay i’ve run out of words on the art. Time to tell you about everything I cut! Now I’m sad to say but no, I didn’t actually cut 22 planned images. I never got far enough to actually figure out each individual pic. Only a small handful, which I almost speedily sketched out for this post, but I don’t have it in me, especially on my current schedule. So i’ll just do my best to describe what I had in mind!

First piece would have been Mukuro being on Security for the Wedding, because of course. She would have also enlisted the help of Mondo and his entire gang, because that combination in this context sounds funny. Don’t worry though they were well behaved.

Ruruka was gonna handle the Wedding Cake, with Teruteru on the rest of the food. Either Ruruka or Mukuro would have been giving him a death glare during the process of course.

Behind the scenes Mikan would be getting prepped for the Wedding. And by prepped I mean Seiko, Ibuki, and Sayaka would be trying very hard to keep Mikan from crying as a result of how happy and overwhelmed she is (Ruining her makeup). Seiko trying to blow air into her eyes to keep them dry while Sayaka and Ibuki desperately try to find an outlet to plug in a hairdryer in because that would be significantly more efficient.

On the reverse, Junko would be doing all of the work on prepping herself for the wedding, with Ruruka, Yasuke and Tsumugi standing in the background, questioning why they’re even there. Junko would yell at them that they’re morale support in this instance. 

Warriors of Hope would of course be there being scamps of course, Kotoko would be the Flower Girl because I play favorites. Toko and Komaru would probably be there trying to keep them in line.

I didn’t have anything in mind with the afterparty but I more than likely would have drawn the drunkest Junko I possibly could. Maybe even Mikan too!

For the Bouquet Throwing I was gonna have Syo jumping at it like a feral animal, and thinking about it now I’d probably also have Tenko jumping for it with killing intent in her eyes.  

And I think that’s it for ideas I had prior to cutting them. Which means it’s time for me to get sappy about the fact that the project is finally ending! Fuck! Usually when I write these I try to have a decent idea ahead of time of what I’m gonna fucking say, this time however I’m just gonna talk, and i’m gonna keep talking until I’m either struck down by nature or I run out of things to say. Sorry! 

This is going to get silly, sappy, and maybe even a little venty, jump in at your own risk. 

If you told me at the beginning of 2024 that I was going to draw 100 days worth of Junkan related art, including a gif and a music video, 2 comics, and also get back into writing to make gay fanfic, I’d be so god damn confused. Because what the fuck right? And that’s not even counting everything I drew AFTER I fuckin finished! Like hold on a minute i’m gonna count up how many times i’ve drawn these two, including the individual comic pages from the three i’ve made.

204.

Fucking, I. I didn’t even know we passed 200 by this point. 

And that’s not counting the sketches I’ve drawn on paper in my sketchbook. It’s also not counting unfinished pics. It ain’t counting the art I might draw WHILE writing this! It’s not counting the stuff I probably forgot about while searching my files cause I suck at naming the aforementioned files!

AND I’M STILL NOT BURNED OUT EITHER?

I got burned out on the project sure but the moment I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted I fucking IMMEDIATELY drew a Junkan pic for Halloween. And then I kept going, and then I didn’t fucking stop, and I don’t think I CAN stop! I don’t even WANT to stop but you’d think by now I’d be like “Well I don’t have any ideas right now-” NO I HAVE TOO FUCKING MANY IDEAS! I KEEP FUCKING THINKING OF MORE IDEAS, AND THEN I COME UP WITH AN AU AND THAT COULD HAVE LIKE 10,000 MORE IDEAS. JUNKAN IS A MENTAL HYDRA YOU DRAW ONE PIC 2 MORE POP UP IN ITS PLACE!

I can draw these pieces in like a few hours if not shorter, because I don’t have to fucking sketch them properly anymore. I feel like I shouldn’t be able to do that! This ship has done unspeakable things to both my mind and body! And i’ve said it before but i’m not trying to complain here, as you’ll see when I start talking about this ship like it saved me from falling into the grand canyon. But it’s just, so, absurd???

Danganronpa is only like my third favorite piece of media behind Bo-bobo and Fairy Tail and yet I’ve drawn more art of JUST THIS SHIP than I have of just general art of those series! That’s not even counting all the other ship art I’ve done! Like Tokomaru! Remember Tokomaru? The ship that is responsible for me being a woman and being able to find the happiness of being my true self? I think i’ve drawn that and Syomaru a combined like, 20 times across my entire life as a DR fan. ALL OF THIS JUNKAN ART SAY FOR LIKE, 5 OF THEM WERE IN ONE YEAR. 

And bare minimum for 2025, assuming I don’t make ANYTHING ELSE OF THEM (Which I will. You know I will.) I’m gonna draw 21 pics for Junkan Week, because you know I’m gonna just draw EVERY prompt from all three lists. And then 30 more for the Month of Junkan (Will try to have that prompt list up soon btw!). So that’s 51 I’m going to do. That’s over half of what I realistically was supposed to do bare minimum for this project. That’s so fucking much, and I’m gonna do it, because I love this ship, and also it sounds REALLY funny if I did that. 

I think genuinely the only other ships I could fucking do this for are like, Toko/Syomaru or Flarelu. Maybe Togachako if I did a reread of MHA to get me back in the spirit for that series. And even then i’m not sure I physically have it in me to go that distance even for those ships. I certainly want to draw a lot of them, especially Flarelu because that’s a ship so rare that it makes Soft Junkan (before I fucking flooded the tag on tumblr) look like a bustling city.

Speaking of tags, I still think about sometimes how like, the Junkan Tag maybe got like, a post like, a few times every month. The normal amount for a ship of this general Rarity. And now it’s like, for so many pages, just half of it is me. Because I was asked to bring something to eat to the function for the buffet table and I fucking crashed a Food Truck through the wall. I feel bad about it sometimes, sometimes. I’m imagining the scenario in my head where someone who likes Junkan but didn’t check the tag super often because it wasn’t like, a super commonly updated one, and then pressing it for the first time in a year and being like “What the fuck happened here?” You know what still shocks me? Not once have I gotten hate for any of this. I was so fucking scared for like half of this projects creation that I was going to get bombarded with people angry at me for shipping this, and NOTHING. I’m not complaining I’m just confused. I have to at least have had a few people block me right? It’s just so eerily quiet. And it’d be one thing if it’s just a thing of like “Why would people who hate Junkan check the Junkan tag” because yeah, that makes sense. But also I’ve been putting at least one Junkan pic in both characters tags every day for 3 fucking months, there had to be at least one Mikan super fan who is eternally fed up with my antics. Like, awesome that I didn’t get harassed over a ship, that actually gives me a little hope that nature is healing, just. Crazy right???

So like. Fuck.

I guess I’ll get to the sappy shit now?? I think I ran out of things to be confused about in terms of what I did this year because of this ship. So I guess I’ll just start talking about how much it means to me, both the ship, and this project. 

(trigger warning, mentions of abuse, nothing super graphic in my opinion but could be mildly uncomfortable. Either skim ahead or stop here)

2024 kinda, fuckin sucked for me to be honest?? I have like 2 good things I can speak for it in terms of major positive points (Obviously I had other good experiences but if I just said “Oh I read a I Love Amy and it was one of the greatest things ever” it lacks the same impact). Not counting getting this project to like, work, obviously.

I finished the 5 chapters of my webcomic that I wanted prepped so I could actually make a website and start posting (ignore how I didn’t make the fuckin website yet). And I started dating my darling Yves and Rivette. Who I cherish deeply. I made other friends this year, a lot of them in part cause of this ship. And I went through a lot of emotional change. 

But to get that change it required I unpack a lot. And by a lot, I mean one bag that was filled to the brim. Gonna try real hard not to like, talk about this in excessive detail or turn this post into some woe is me bullshit, but I feel like I should at least make mention of it.

At the beginning of the year, I asked Yves (who I wasn’t dating yet) about my previous romantic relationship. And she confirmed to me that, based on everything I had told her about it overtime, that yes, it was abusive.

During 2021-2022 I was in a relationship with a girl I won’t name here, you wouldn’t know her of course, it was a completely different community. It started out as friends, I got a crush, jumped at it because I was still inexperienced with feelings, and it didn’t work out. And that’s the simple way of putting it, and that’s how I viewed it till Yves opened my eyes.

From the getgo it wasn’t healthy. She was manipulative, constantly had outbursts towards me, and yanked me around emotionally constantly. I would later find out that she had a previous history of just, generally being an awful person. Even after we broke up we still stuck around each other, mostly because I felt guilty for breaking up with her, and was also just generally terrified of her. The abuse was all mental of course, it was long distance so she couldn’t hurt me physically at all. 

I of course, didn’t process any of that as me being abused, I even viewed myself as being at fault for a lot of it. The experience was so bad that I identified as Aromantic because just convinced I wasn’t able to feel proper romantic feelings for someone. It wasn’t till much later when I got another crush that I realized that I’m Panromantic, and me being Aro (and very briefly Aegoromantic) was basically just a coping mechanism to write off my trauma. I still feel guilty about that since it feels like I devalued the importance of people who do identify on the Aro spectrum, but that isn’t relevant here.

Point is, a lot of bad shit happened to me because of that woman, and even after a year and a half of us not talking because we both mutually decided it would be better for us to not stay in contact, she still found ways to worm her way back into my life. One conversation we had just by chance, to catch up, that’s all it took and I was thinking of her again. I never talked to her after that, and I have her blocked now, but I didn’t need to for shit to hit the fan.

So I asked Yves that question, she answered, and I now suddenly had to deal with the fact that I was abused, and that I was traumatized as a result. And like, I never really viewed myself as a traumatized person up till that point, I viewed myself as someone who wasn’t very smart but tried her best to do good by people who didn’t have too much baggage beyond some sucky school memories.

When I had to unpack what happened that kind of spiraled into severe Self Confidence Issues and even more Self Hate. I struggled to accept even the slightest compliment if it wasn’t directed at my art. The reason I even quit weed is because I used it almost exclusively to suppress all of the negative emotions I felt. 

I’m in a somewhat better place now, I’m trying to give myself more breaks from artwork, rather than overworking myself constantly just to feel something (and being fully open, I realized near the end of december that I pretty much used Overworking as a form of self harm). I’m gonna really try this year to like, actually let people be nice to me, and in turn try to be nicer to myself. And I have goals to work towards for this year. But I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without two things. One, my girlfriend Yves, who even before we started dating helped me through multiple breakdowns and has helped/allowed me to grow into a (I hope) better, healthier person. And even after I got over most of my feelings related to my Ex, has continued to help me cope with my self hatred. I cherish every moment we share and wouldn’t trade her for anything.

And the other thing, which I know will sound silly right after I talked about my girlfriend, is well. Junkan.

Let me say this, I didn’t get into Junkan to cope with my abuse. I have toyed with the notion in my head before and the idea of it pisses me off to a quite frankly irrational degree. I was into Junkan before I realized my issues. If you want my coping mechanism it’s Alex from Minecraft and no I’m not explaining that right now.

That said, it, like all the yuri ships I like, was a source of comfort for me. Originally I read stuff like Tokomaru fics just to help me reduce stress, back when I dealt with really severe anger issues due to the online spaces I occupied. And to this day reading a nice, fluff fic can calm me down a bit. But now they can serve a much deeper sense of comfort, away from all the bullshit, and obviously, gave me a way to distract/calm myself from the storm of negative emotions and memories that filled the brain.

I see myself in Mikan more than I’d like to personally admit, obviously not to the extreme, but in aspects. So it’s just, nice to see a better timeline for her with Junko, ones where she gets to be happy and maybe even heal as well. It just so happens that I also think there’s a lot of genuinely good potential for the ship from either a canon or non-canon perspective, and Junko’s just a really enjoyable character. 

Working on this project helped too. It gave me a way to dive deeper into my love for this ship, and gave me a sense of purpose and validation that helped me work through the rough. Whether it was the really bad mental health days, or just a shit streak of commission work that tore away at me because my job even if I love drawing can be a real drag at times, and i’m unfortunately a workaholic (Trying to work on it though).

I think i’ve said it before but even something simple as Val showing her excitement over the art pieces I was prepping could genuinely brighten my day even while I was at my lowest.

And then when I really started pursuing this as a project, rather than just a secret stash to satiate myself and one other person minimum, I realized I could do something good here. For the people like me who loved this ship but might have been too nervous about expressing it, the people who were just really craving it, and the people who had already made all of the fics and art that sent me into this spiral of obsessive passion in the first place! A gift to all of them, to make ya’ll happy. 

In hindsight, may not like, the healthiest mindset for setting off this whole project. But hey it all kinda circled around into eventually helping my mental health recover. So like, win?

And i’ve already spoken on how Day 60 allowed me to feel a lot more emotionally free as an artist even if I still have my struggle days. I’ve gotten better just in general as an artist as I improve more at stuff like expressions, posing, linework, etc. And I’ve even managed to make friends with some of the people I used to look up to as idols and can finally just view em as normal people now. (Even if I might still be a bit excessive in my praise, I swear I���m normal about ya’ll besties I just don’t have like, a middleground for showing my appreciation and affection for my friends. It’s maxed out unless I’m tired as shit) 

I find myself comedically terrified of how this ship has affected me over the course of 2024, and how it will likely continue to affect me through 2025 even as I try to move onto other projects not related to Junkan. I wanna show off my love for Fairy Tail on my main blog, and I really think that with a full years time and the first five chapters done I really can get my comic off the ground and focus on that for the foreseeable future.

But hey, 2025 at least we got two whole Junkan Events. And with Junkan Week I’d like to keep that going for as long as I can, unless someone else takes the reins way down the line. So this ol’ blog’ll keep going for a good while I imagine, even if it’s a lot smaller. Maybe I’ll find other ways to keep this place active, I’ve considered just making it a one stop shop for all things Junkan though I don’t think I’m really suited to manage that. Maybe someone’ll read this and try there hand at it down the line, maybe someone’ll do their own 100 Days of Junkan! 

Oh hey did I ever tell ya’ll I was gonna make a comedic video just making a guideline for how one could make their own 100 Days Project. It was gonna be like, pretty obvious points just framed in a very exaggerated and comedic tone. 

Alright anything else I should cover? Fun facts? Deep personal anecdotes? Sappy stuff?

Lemme check my files, maybe i got another dumb joke image- 

. . . 

Oh . . . Well there’s somethin.

Alright, don’t get to excited ya’ll, but just for a bit of fun, how about one last day in the project. I know 101 days doesn’t roll of the tongue as well, but I think this is vaguely interesting enough to make up for that! Tune in tomorrow. Same time, same place. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

The Locked Tomb art provided by the talented @dansnotavampire thank you!!

Propaganda under the cut

Vash/Knives:

Twin alien brothers whose polar opposite philosophies and approaches to violence against humans do not impede their all-encompassing love for each other. Canon limb amputation and nonconsensual impregnation attempts are merely the tip of the iceberg of their deeply troubled, deeply intimate relationship.

they are twin aliens literally made for one another. they are the only two of their kind. the mangaka wanted to have nai impregnate vash but instead settled for having nai use vash to impregnate a whole bunch of their slightly less evolved sisters. it's incest all the way down with these two

Knives crashed an entire fleet of spaceships, killing millions of people, to prevent them from hurting Vash. He plans to create a “paradise” just for the two of them, so they can be together. He murders anyone and anything who opposes him, except for Vash. He cut off Vash’s arm to save his life. He even kidnaps Vash to pry open his womb-shaped gate to another dimension to “penetrate” Vash’s alien core. Vash can’t bring himself to lift a finger against Knives and cries when he realizes they’ve become too different. When he realizes he won’t persuade Vash to join his paradise, Knives annihilates himself in front of Vash. Failtwins of all time.

two blonde boys doing what blonde boys do best: look alike. theyre twins, which is hot, and they have a complicated love-hate relationship that has risked both of their lives on multiple counts! do you love mpreg? well studio orange has you covered [SPOILERS!] in Trigun Stampede (2023 Anime) with their season finale of Knives impregnating Vash with his plant tendrils! also did we mention theyre aliens who are also plants? the incest is literally out of this world; Plantcest is the best kind of incest because not only can it include Vash and Knives, but ALL of their plant sisters! fun for the whole family for millennia to cum ;))

Coronabeth/Ianthe:

Toxic yuri incest…. what if your sister had to eat someone to become God's right hand and all you wanted was for her to eat you and all she wanted to do was keep you alive forever and you'd only spent three nights apart in all 22 years of your lives and and and and- sigh.

Look… one of these women refused to both literally and figuratively cannibalize the other one so the consumed soul could fuel her immortality because she needed the other one to be alive for her, and the second one WAS DEVASTATED by the fact that the first one did it to SOMEONE ELSE. How DARE anyone else get to be one flesh and one end with HER sister!! How dare her sister eat someone else body and soul?!? It should have been HER!

they kissed on the mouth in nona the ninth

[jjoshlynaround]

what I did on new years to kickstart the lil experiment that I'm throwing out - trying to draw + post everyday for 2024

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[magnolia-sunrise]

the halloween special, i mean, Medieval AU continues>> the arrival of the grievously wounded Kingsguard disrupts Bastien's very isolated, very drunk rural village life - but in much different way than he expected. somehow, miraculously, Wolfgang slowly recovers, and the two of them spend many evenings sharing wine and stories by the fireside, finding each other to be pleasant company.

but how long will the vampire be able to resist the call of the priest's blood >:3

[arolesbianism]

Finallly got around to properly designing Demonstrator! She’s silly

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ hit it till you catch a cramp

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ being intimate with wriothesley doesn't always go as planned. // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. rough syx, sweaty, awkward sex moment with the duke himself, fem! reader ♡

soft lips press against your forehead as wriothesley drags his hips against you with one heavy roll forward— and he's greedy, what more was there to expect when he hasn't seen you all week and could only dream on how you'd feel wrapped around him, with your walls twitching as your erect nipples scratch at his solid chest.

you feel your arousal drip out from each smack of his balls hitting your skin as it slid down your ass, turning you utterly absorbed as his hands freely roam over your naked body, your pussy rewarding him with a good squeeze due to his attentive ways of giving each and every part of you enough attention.

"t-that's good angel?" wriothesley drawls out a slow whisper before completely thrusting himself into you without warning, his weight dipping against your body as you're being pressed between his sweat afflicted chest and a doused mattress.

you're too much— and in his eyes, you're being way too irresistible tonight as well— no matter if it's due to the fact that he's been practically awaiting this ever since monday. not only that but the duke was forcing himself not to masturbate to the thought of you and instead, patiently sit still and focus on work until he was able to taste you again.

it had been utterly worth it in the end. always.

you're panting out, arching your back and gripping at his shoulders as he thrusts into you with an impossible pace, tossing his head back and exposing his adams apple upon swallowing thickly. you were certain that wriothesley had to be carved by gods, that his body was a work of art, meticulously drawn with blood, tears and passion, he was beautiful, and the love he gave to you was ravishing in its own rights.

he was yours, yours and yours and he makes you go crazy— yet, if only you were aware that you managed to make him become even crazier and more addictive to your complete person.

your personality, your beauty, your taste.

your skin feels sticky as wriothesley continues to drill the rummaging thoughts straight out of you, clenching his jaw in concentration as he wiped his forehead to get rid of the tousled bangs sticking at the glossy skin.

it's like time has stopped for the both of you, and your stomach was sitting heavy with a coil that was awaiting to be broken when in a trice, wriothesley's hips stutter in midst a long thrust, his previously rough technique turning messier when he tries to regain it, "ahh— wait, fuck," the duke chokes out, shooting you an aching look on his face before placing a palm against his flexed thigh, "just a second baby, yeah,"

"w-what's wrong?" you ask, dusted in lust and sweat as he slowly slides himself out of you.

instinctively, you pout and wince at the sheer loss of him, the fullness of his shaft melting into your softness that never failed to ignite a heat, a need, what it took to nurish your wanting, "is everything okay?"

your voice was firm as your eyes focus at your boyfriend, precisely his hand furiously rubbing at his thigh. he clears his throat as quietly as he could, as to not make a big deal out of it, "— a cramp, i got a cramp, fuck, hold on, okay," he frowns, his strawberry red cheeks refusing to face you before he climbs out of the bed.

his cock was still painfully erect with a condom wrapped around the shaft, glossed with your arousal. you grab onto the blanket to cover yourself a little before grinning at him cheekily, your body propped among pillows as you watched him.

"you're getting old, baby," you jest, smirking as his fingers dug into the plush of his skin, massaging the muscle, "i might need to go easier on you in the future," you add on playfully as at last, winning back his intrigued eye contact.

"you think so?" he clicks his tongue, his cheeky smile all set this time as he crawls back into the bed, his weight forcing the mattress to bounce a bit.

wriothesley finds himself in between your legs again before you welcome him back into your arms. there was so much love in his eyes, a pleading love— hand in hand with an unwavering loyalty as his breath wafts over your lips.

"you know what?" he asks.

"what?"

"it still hurts,"

you laugh to the point where your belly was starting to actually hurt, the blunt admittance said with a gentle tone might've been the best way on how to deliver this sentence to you, "i'm pretty sure i pulled a muscle,"

"i'm sorry but—," you snort before hiding your face in his neck to laugh out, pulling him into your hug tighter, "hey! i'm being serious, don't laugh, it's not funny," wriothesley speaks in both earnest and amusement before silently resting his head against your own.

your hands fall against his precious hair as you stroke over his scalp sensually, the both of you getting carried away by the soft, intimate moment of embracing each other in a raw, playful way.

by that time, you've long since forgotten about the couple minutes prior of skin clashing against skin as you cradle his cheeks to make him look at you softly, "lay down," you command, his marvelous eyes staring back at you, "i'll give you a massage grandpa," you laugh as he hums with a playful roll of his eyes before you frel his lips place a tender kiss on the corner of your mouth.

"what did i ever do to deserve someone so beautiful such as you?"

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[hyperballart]

last nite

art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader !

art and patrick aren’t exactly subtle, and you are the push they didn’t know they needed.

(18+ pls!!)

author’s note: that one bitch (me) who doesn’t play about homoerotic friendships… this is mostly artrick but they all get nasty trust!

the swishing of the cheap beer from art’s mini fridge overlaps the song playing from the radio. it was something you recognized from this new york band you really liked—your friend had gifted you that record for your birthday a few years prior—you hummed out the tune as you sat on the desk chair of your friend’s dorm room, periodically lifting your gaze to the two boys also sharing the space.

you and patrick met at a local band’s show, that same night ended with you being pushed into the dark bathroom of the bar it was held at and you nearly swallowing each other’s tongues. he whispered into your ear about how good you tasted, how nice your ass felt in his hands, how fucking sexy you looked dancing out there. and after he bent you over the sink to get a taste of your sweet cunt and you returned the favor, the brunette gave you his number—it surprised you, that he wanted to continue seeing you and maybe take it further. it wasn’t until a couple hangouts that you met art.

he was by definition a good boy. always respectful and cordial around you, sweet, and even bashful at times. you coincidentally attended the same university—even shared common friends other than patrick. the three of you became well acquainted quickly. movie nights in art’s dorm when patrick came to visit, night drives to the beach, it was all simple and fun.

of course you and patrick hooked up whenever he came around, which seemed to frequent as he was on a month-long break from tour. on one of those particular nights, as you were riding him, somehow the topic of art came up.

“saw him at practice last week,” you take his earlobe between your teeth and slightly tug, “he’s really good.”

patrick stutters his hips and unwillingly twitches inside of you, as if images of his best friend playing flashed through his brain in those few seconds, “fuck, yeah he’s always been good.” his brain is too foggy to comprehend that he’s given away something you’ve been suspecting for a while—and you’ll keep digging to find what you really want.

you look down at him on the bed and notice how his mouth has dropped a bit further and his eyes become more slanted, you push your fingers into his mouth which he automatically starts to suck, and you ride him until he’s whimpering around them and filling you up. you’ll get something else out of him soon.

the next time happens to be the night right after, you’re at your favorite ice cream place and decide it’s the right time to keep prodding.

“you and art—you seem pretty close—how long have you known each other again?” you scrape the sides of your cup from the melted treat and look at him eating his.

“well, we went to boarding school together,” patrick speaks with some waffle cone bits crunching in his mouth—a horrible habit of his you have come to detest from the few months of knowing him—“we shared a room since we were 12, i think i’ve mentioned this,” he swallows everything in his mouth down and continues, “we are pretty close. we’d get teased for it a lot in school—i never really gave a fuck but you know art. he takes things to heart.”

“right, i can see that,” you didn’t exactly plan out how you were going to lead him to where you wanted but you get an idea, “i wanna know more. tell me some fun stories, i can imagine you two got up to a lot of trouble,” you fully turn to face him in your seat.

he racks his brain for a while and eventually, “one time i got caught with porno magazines under my bed and i blamed art. it was this whole thing—his grandma gave him an earful over the phone—god she was pissed,” a chuckle leaves him as he recalls the story, “anyway, we almost got kicked out and he didn’t speak to me for weeks. can’t remember how we made up or how i even got in possession of those magazines but we definitely learned our lesson.”

you’re giggling, “god you’re awful, what else have you put poor innocent art through?”

he turns to face you now, “i taught him everything he knows,” a smug smirk slowly takes over his expression, “ taught him how to kiss and how to jerk off. poor thing didn’t even know how to handle morning wood before i showed him.”

and there’s your chance, “so you two have like…”

he pauses and takes in your assumption, “oh god no, not like that,” a hand runs down his face quickly as a laugh of disbelief leaves him. “we’ve never—would never go there, you know? no shame to anyone who does we just—it was practice before we started dating and all that. was just helping him out.”

and well, that gave you enough of an incentive.

now you’re all in art’s dorm, a little buzzed from the alcohol and tired from a day at the beach. patrick sits on a small couch with his legs spread. both boys have decided to forgo their shirts, only in their swim trunks—patrick’s much shorter than the blonde’s. you still in your bikini top and tiny jean shorts.

“what about that girl you were seeing, what’s her name again?” patrick interrogates a clearly agitated art who sits on the floor rolling his eyes.

“i told you that’s over, she wasn’t looking for anything serious and i found out the hard way.”

“he means he saw her making out with one of his buddies at a frat party,” you add smirking over your bottle.

“okay, fuck off first of all—“

“hey, man calm down, look—“ patrick interjected, “there’s lots of chicks that would bang you, i’m sure a pretty boy like you has no problem getting laid. go charm up some nice girl that volunteers at the soup kitchen on her free time and—“

“fuck you patrick.” there’s no malice behind his words though—and you can spot the blush that takes over his pale complexion at the previous remark as he shakes his head. “it’s easy for you to say,” he looks up at you as he says it, “you guys fuck like rabbits any chance you get.”

“is that what it is then? you being pent up?” you cut in. “there’s lot of girls here who would love to fuck you, artie. you’re telling me none have caught your eye?”

art is silent, looking to see what patrick was thinking, but the latter simply looks curious—excited almost— and so he just sits picking at the hem of his shorts.

“oh i get it,” you continue, “you’re jealous. you think i’m taking your precious best friend away, don’t you?” you slide down from the chair to take a spot right next to him and whisper the next thing so only he hears, “you are jealous. don’t worry, we can share him.”

you pull back to see his pupils dilated and his mouth slightly parted, in shock and arousal—maybe even in acceptance. you can’t help the small grin as you look from him to the other still sitting on the couch, you can see his chest rising a bit heavier now.

you feel that as an agreement from both as you perch on the bed and call them both to follow at each of your sides. you can feel them eyeing you and for a split second, you see them staring at each other in a way that surpasses anything platonic they insist on having.

when you feel them both lean in to opposite sides of your neck you halt their movements. a look of confusion passes through their faces as they wait for you to explain.

“i think you guys have some making up to do,” the look on their faces creases further, “art, aren’t you curious to feel what his lips are like again? i have a feeling he has improved greatly since you were 13.”

art’s face falls, he looks at patrick in annoyance, “you said you would never tell, dude what the fuck.”

patrick just shrugs, still wanting to proceed. “i told you, that was only for practice. we’re grown now.”

“sure,” you pretend to let it go and you have on a stupid smile that he just wants to kiss off your face. you start leaning towards patrick and grant him that wish, using your hand on his jaw to give you access to his tongue. it quickly becomes heated, you land on his lap and grind yourself on the hard bulge in his trunks. his big hand gropes your ass and he moans greedily in your mouth. you pull away and let him suck and nip on the length of your neck before looking at art, who looks pitiful with his mouth hung open and his eyes lingering on the spot where patrick is occupied. a smirk returns to your swollen lips.

you tug on patricks hair and swivel even harder on his dick, leading to him groaning out a fuck me baby, and you swear you see art’s cock twitch under the layer of thin clothing. you leave patricks lap despite his efforts to keep you there, now sat on the pretty blonde who can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. you stop his stressing when you place both of his palms on your hips, trailing them up to your barely-covered tits where he gives a soft squeeze and lets out a little whine. you finally lean down to kiss him and it’s as you’d expect from him—tentative and soft. a kiss you’d get from a boyfriend after a nice dinner date—not from whatever this was.

he lets out hums and low moans, but you can tell he’s getting desperate. god knows how long it’s been since he’s fucked something other than his hand. you pull away and return to your spot between them. they instantly both try to catch your lips, it’s messy with all three of you licking and sucking and kissing. at this point no one knows whose mouth is whose, and it doesn’t even matter because suddenly you’re pulling off. you lean back to catch your breath and then you see them.

they lick into each other’s mouths, art is mewling and patrick grips his curls to hold him in place. they seem to catch on after a ridiculous amount of time but when they do, they stare at you while they’re heaving breaths.

“are you guys gonna take care of that?” you look down at their laps, both having matching leaks of pre bleeding through their shorts. “come on get them out, you’ve seen each other plenty before right? nothing to be shy of.”

they both listen, each erection slapping up and standing on its own. it’s obscene and you dont think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. art’s cock is so pretty—you think—pink and curved. he is smooth, you always had assumed he would be anyway. you can tell he takes good care of himself, his balls the same flushed pink he gets on his cheeks when you tease him. the tip of him is so red, a dribble of white streaming down when he notices your attention on his cock—you almost coo at it when it twitches.

then you look at patrick. that same cock you love and worship. he’s thicker in girth, your pussy pulsates when your mind trails to the stretch he gives you. his balls are heavy, and he doesn’t ever fully shave them. you like them like that—the musk and how they give friction to your clit when hes fucking you. he’s also drooling from his tip. you decide to start off slow.

you scoot forwards and extend your arms to their laps. each one of your hands holds them and at the contact, they can’t help but buck their hips. you think it’s adorable to see them synchronized like that.

“ah, shit!” patrick throws his head back and looks down at you jerking him off, then looks to his right at the other cock in your hand and shakes his head in disbelief, “i can’t—fuck—i can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“i see the way you look at him, pat,” you quicken the speed of your hands and both of them cry out, “i gave you both what you wanted, handed on a silver fucking platter. i think you should be a little more grateful. in fact, my hands are getting tired,” and with that, you cut all contact with them and you can quite literally see them wilt.

“wha- no, please,” art manages to get through a whine, “my hand doesn’t—it doesn’t feel as good i’m so hard it hurts, please—“

“who said anything about using your own hand?”you cut him off.

patrick hesitantly stretches his arm over his friend’s lap, “we’re just,” his fingers make contact with art’s dick and he almost drools, “helping each other out.” an experimental tug has his back arching and makes him shut his eyes tight.

“pat-patrick—oh fuck.”

one would think art already came by how much he’s wetting his friend’s hand, and patrick seems to be mesmerized by the sight. “holy fuck art, look at how much you’re spilling,” as if on cue, that makes him squirt out more. art is gripping his sheets and his eyes dart from the hand stroking him fast and the boy in front of him.

“i’m—don’t go so fucking fast,” art tries to get out, “it’s been a while if—nghh—if you don’t slow down i’m gonna—fuck!” patrick clearly enjoys this as he can’t help laughing at his state.

“don’t tell me you’re a virgin, artie,” he slows down but continues teasing, “thought i taught you how to hold off better than that.”

and while you’d love to keep watching art squirm under his torture, you stop him, “i got an idea.”

patrick reluctantly pulls away and they both now stare expectantly, “push both of your cocks together, here like this—“ you direct them to sit with their legs spread in front of each other, overlapping and then you position them how you want them.

they can’t even speak, they’re just panting and looking down at the contact until you continue, “come on pat, hold both of them together,” you watch as he does so and grimaces trying to hold off, “look at that, your tips are kissing—how cute.”

they both whine and patrick mutters a shut up under his breath.

after a minute of heavy breathing, patricks large hand slowly strokes down on both of their cocks. it’s so wet, the sound of the slicking lewdly filling up the room but the sound of their cries is almost enough to drown it out. art is almost sobbing at this point, you’ve never heard someone sound so desperate. they almost can’t bare the friction of each other, their tangled legs twitching and shaking.

you almost start to get annoyed at how slow patrick is going for the sake of making the feeling last, but in a way you think it’s sweet. the years they’ve held off on each other finally leading to this—they deserved it. you’re still annoyed tho.

“go faster,” as the words leave your mouth they both mewl and shake their heads, “you look so hot like this, i’m so wet. i’m thinking of letting you both fuck me—at the same time. just like this, both in my cunt,” patrick’s hand loosens his grip he is almost shivering now, he has to hold off, “why’d you let go, hm?” you pull his hand back on, “i want you both to imagine it, it’s gonna be a tighter fit than this,” you pull your hand over patrick’s and tighten the grip hard, “there you go.”

art can’t even make out words anymore, the second he heard you say you wanted them both at once, his ears started ringing. as if that wasn’t enough, the tightened grip made him moan out pleas over and over. when he looks down, he knows he can’t hold longer and he lets you both know, “i’m gonna, i can’t it’s too much, too much, too tight i—“

you take this as your chance to do what you wanted since you saw the tent in his shorts, you lean down to where they are connected and suckle on his tip and that does it. he sobs out a curse and starts twitching, he cums all over your lips and patrick, you can’t believe how much is coming out of him.

patrick just about loses his mind when he sees it all happen. it’s a miracle he lasted over two minutes like this and he’s about to pass out, “oh fuck me, yeah fucking soak that dick—oh god— you’re so wet—how do you get this fucking—“ he suddenly yanks art by his neck and fucks his tongue into his mouth again, and even tho he is still dizzy from his orgasm, he kisses back just as messily. that’s the final straw for patrick to cum all over them and squeeze their tips together for the last time that night.

you watch it all happen with a lazy smile. they both lay down, still out of it while you scratch their heads gently and murmur sweet affirmations to them. you’re between them and it feels just right. you don’t need to talk about what happened just yet. just sleepily kiss each other until you knock out.

they’ll make up not making you cum tomorrow, you can picture them both licking between your legs and when they take turns suckling your clit, you’ll pretend not to notice how they’re jerking each other off out of your sight <3

[foolishlovers]

With 2024 coming to an end, I just wanted to give a quick shout-out to my favourite fics I (re)read this year. I have so so much appreciation for all writers creating beautiful works about our beloved angel and demon pair. Reading these sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes sappy, sometimes deliciously filthy stories has been a constant source of joy. I truly can't even begin to describe how thankful I am to be part of such an incredibly creative and loving fandom. So so much gratitude for all the different versions of them, all the genders, all the tropes, all the canon fics, and all the human AUs. There are so many more amazing fics I read this year and there are so many more to explore in 2025, but the following few have made themselves a home in my heart. I promise they're worth a read! 💜 [I do fic recs all year long, check out this tag for more.]

Date by @ddagent (2.5k, T)

Every year, Aziraphale is spoiled on his birthday. This year, he decides to do the same for Crowley. There's only one problem - he's not actually sure when Crowley's birthday is.

Roller Derby Queen by @summerofspock (2.5k, M)

Crowley skates for Hell on Wheels and she's pretty good at it too. She'd be better if she weren't so distracted by the new skater on the opposing team.

Sweet Nectar of the Eldritch Gods by @brenna (3.2k, G)

Azira writes a letter to the purveyor of her favorite honeys and sweetness ensues. No offence, but who says “by the by,” by the way? It’s adorable? By the by, do you like wine? Crowley

Poor Men by @why-not-go-with-style (3.9k, G)

What To Do When Two of Your Professors Are Hopelessly in Love With Each Other: an instruction manual by Adam Young (featuring Pepper Moonchild because someone has to be the voice of reason here).

!False (It's Funny Because It's True) by @mirjam-writes (6.4k, E)

Aziraphale drew a long breath through his nose. Crowley, of course it had to be Crowley. The new guy in the sales department, who would promise potential customers just about anything to close a deal. Arrogant, annoying – and wildly, stupidly attractive. Aziraphale hated him.  Aziraphale is a stellar software architect and a project manager, who is so done with the sales department selling unrealistically scheduled and budgeted projects. And he definitely doesn't have a crush on anyone, thank you very much.

Show me where the Nightingale sings by @sabotage-on-mercury (6.5k, G)

After settling into their new home in the South Downs there are still things to process for Aziraphale and Crowley before they can start a new chapter of their life. But winter is turning into spring. There is magic abroad in the air. And finally, the nightingale is back.

The Art of Human Nature by @ineffable-doll (6.5k, T)

Crowley is a painter who has only ever had an eye for nature. That is, until a client named Aziraphale commissions her for a painting to boost her self-confidence, and Crowley discovers that her client is as beautiful as the Earth itself. Then she goes and catches feelings, because she’s a disaster.

Lit by @fellshish (12k, T)

Crowley takes a university course on literature and surprise! The book they’re discussing is Good Omens. Uh oh.

Paradigm Shift by @hakunahistata (13k, E)

“Apologies, apologies! The time got away from me.” Aziraphale Fell entered the room brightly, a binder in one hand, tea mug in the other. Crowley’s languid sprawl went rigid as the senior accounting analyst who had been the indulgent secret in the back of his mind took the seat opposite him.   Or, Crowley Pines at the Office: An AU.

Feast by @ashfae, mostlyjustgoose (15k, E)

Crowley's spent the whole of lockdown asleep. Aziraphale has spent the whole of lockdown baking, cooking, and becoming increasingly frustrated with his solitude. Which eventually leads him to the perfect way to solve all his problems at once... Or, Aziraphale attempts to seduce Crowley with a truly excellent meal, and Crowley is amenable.

Ever-Fixed by @hkblack (19k, E)

Aziraphale Fell had a plan. Go to school, get his degree, and start his life with his beloved at his side as man and wife. Until one day Crowley disappears. Decades later he meets a man, and finds the love of his life again. Anthony J. Crowley, suave, cool, masculine, in control, unflappable, has spent decades building himself up. He refuses to let his confident facade disappear for Aziraphale, who once almost tumbled down the stairs to certain death because his nose was stuck in a book. It’s just sex, and they’ve been dating for months, this time around. There’s no need to get his knickers in a knot. But the past isn’t easy to let go of, even if you’re both avoiding it. A story about love, intimacy, and finding each other again. (Alternatively: Tender smut, but then I wrote love story flashbacks, and now it's just emotional and there's plot in my pornography)

Fireworks by @optimistic-starlight (19k, E)

He had to get himself under control. Aziraphale needed him. That prick boyfriend of his drained so much of Aziraphale's time and energy, dampened so much of the gentle, beaming happiness that Crowley had always adored about him. He needed Crowley there to support him, to do the things a best friend should be there to do. And, well, if Crowley needed him too, if he had to subsume his own pain to focus on making Aziraphale happy, that was something he could bear quietly. He could do it for his angel. Crowley groaned and dropped his head against the tiled wall of the shower. His angel. He had to stop thinking of him like that.

Maybe Next Christmas by @flamingbentleyy (21k, T)

Airports were tricky business, but waiting in airports was as close to hell as one could possibly get. Nobody knew it better than Aziraphale, whose luck had made him end up in one right on Christmas Eve of all days. Although his airport experience turned a little less hellish and a whole lot more entertaining after he ran into an old college friend in that same airport. And then again. And again…

The Small Ad by @theladydrgn, @sylwritesstuff (32k, E)

WORK WANTED: Partner For Hire. Tall, lanky ginger of arguable gender available to be your significant other to keep pesky relatives, nosy coworkers, or well-meaning friends at bay. Able to be as annoying or as polite as you like. Causing a fight over Christmas dinner with your odd, bigoted uncle/aunt/cousin will require an extra £200 up front. £50 for the first hour, negotiable otherwise. Ciao.   It isn't the sort of advertisement Aziraphale usually paid any attention to, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures.

Heavenly Wicked Cafe by @waitingtobebroken (33k, T)

There is a terribly rude barista that makes amazing coffee and a saint of a barista, whose coffee tastes vile. And they are in love.

Petrichor & Parchment by @katnoggin (33k, E)

“Mr. Crowley, I presume?” Aziraphale asked in lieu of an introduction, which was not forthcoming. The guy hadn’t even removed his sunglasses. Oh God, he had a tattoo on his face. Aziraphale wasn’t one to judge, but… what kind of gardener had a snake tattoo on his face? Now also available as a podfic from Literarion  [Huuuge recommendation for the podfic!!]

The Heart of the Forest by Kalimyre (33k, E)

Retired librarian Aziraphale moves into a small, isolated cottage deep in the forest with a strange history. He soon realises he's not alone in the woods; a presence watches him. But as he begins to befriend the stranger that lurks in the trees, Aziraphale comes to understand there's more to him than appearances suggest - and Aziraphale's own destiny may be tied to the mysterious creature with the golden eyes.

in your own time by @ineffabildaddy (33k, E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (45k, T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

Loving You Slow by @tawnyontumblr (46k, E)

Crowley just wants to dance, but he's not prepared to sell his soul (and other things) at Mayfair's Hellfire Club to do it. Tending bar at The Bookshop in Soho is just the escape he needs, providing Crowley can convince the club’s owner he really belongs on the stage. Unfortunately Aziraphale Eastgate is not quite the generous guardian angel Crowley has been led to believe. Welcome to The Bookshop, where it always pays to look under the covers.

A Billion Points of Light by akitsuko (50k, E)

The firefighter lifts the visor on their helmet, and Crowley may not be able to see very well, but those are the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen in his life. Crowley has never been one for the whole 'love at first sight' business, but he may need to reassess after Aziraphale - a gorgeous firefighter - saves his life.

More Than by @naromoreau (55k, E)

Crowley would like to spend another year without marrying, especially when thrust-forced to pick a husband. She refuses to cave in on a matter of principles. She refuses to cave in specifically on a matter of not wanting to be married to Lucien Morningstar. But she might need a hand to break free from such a burden. And who knows? She might even find something else along the way.

Lavender Apiary Of Your Honey Eyes by @snek-of-eden (66k, E)

The first thing Aziraphale registered was fiery red hair matted with sweat. The second thing was the man’s face, sharp and intelligent and a little guarded, sunlight dappling a spray of freckles. Upon seeing this, two contradictory thoughts crossed his mind: ‘Gosh, he’s pretty’, and ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a man use that many expletives in the space of a minute’. “Oh,” he said, swallowing hard. “Hello, then.” __________ When Aziraphale inherits a small, cosy cottage in the countryside, he finds unexpected company in a gardener he didn't even know he had. Crowley is sweet, and strange, and about as foul-mouthed as you can get. Before he knows it, he's falling pretty goddamn hard for a man whose friendship he's terrified of risking. Ah, the foils of love.

Old Vines by @sevdrag (189k, E)

A.Z. Fell, one of the most respected names in wine and food blogging, has been sent on assignment with his assistant Warlock Dowling to spend six months in California Wine Country. Under direction (by his boss, Gabriel) to use this experience to double his blog followers and write a novel, Aziraphale is both excited and anxious about the opportunity. Anthony J. Crowley is the owner and viticulturalist of Ecdyses, a winery that unexpectedly fell into his lap eleven years ago when he hit rock bottom. He may be in debt, yeah, but he’s paying off his loans — and despite pressure from his lenders and their team of inspectors, Crowley has found a kind of contentment tending his little corner of terroir and producing extraordinary wine. Crowley’s old vines are the heart of his vineyard, and he’s never let anyone in. Crowley finds Aziraphale intriguing; Aziraphale finds Crowley enthralling. Turns out a famous wine expert and an experienced viticulturalist can still learn things from each other. The summer of 2019 unfolds. [Big recommendation for the podfic here too!!]

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (14)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: this took aaaaaaages. I won't keep you. Go right ahead. Check back at the end with moi 💋

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The Mallorca holiday is not the only thing that ends in this chapter. Ewan and his Darling reckon with the truth, and they have to decide whether it's all worth it. Especially with what's coming...

The rest of the evening goes off without a hitch. It’s as if the stars have aligned and the universe has conspired to give two lovers the perfect date they so deserve after months and months of rolling in the muck.

It could be plain luck, but really, the credit goes to Ewan’s meticulous planning. Before leaving for Spain, he already knew he would have to pull out all the stops to get some proper time alone with you. Away from the rest of the group. And especially away from the guy you’re dating. 

The dedicated artiste in him can find some twisted pleasure in how this area of his life imitates his art. Wouldn’t it be easier to tap into Aemond if some part of him—of Ewan—carries some resentment for Matt?

Ewan had it in him to envision how this series of events would serve as his fuel for the Battle Above the Gods’ Eye. 

So long as he gets you back. As you sit across the candlelit table, he can’t stop staring. His dimples carve themselves deeper with every laugh or glance you throw his way. It’s the kind of brazen adoration that could make a person feel exposed, vulnerable even—but not with you. He could let you dig as deep as you’d like and he will still feel safe. Intoxicating, but in a good way. 

In turn, your eyes become drawn to those crescents on his cheeks, and you display a loving expression of your own. He blossoms under your scrutiny.

You’re in the middle of shoving a forkful of entrée into your mouth, not very demure-like, when he dreamily says, as if in a trance, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

The fork freezes mid-air, and your resulting snort further proves the absurdity of his sentiment. You sure have an almost unguarded way of presenting yourself for a Hollywood actress. Not that it matters with Ewan. You could be clad in nothing but a potato sack and the lad would think the sun shines out of your arse. That being said, the potato sack would allow him easy access to the main source of his bliss—nevertheless—the look he continues to give you proves nothing short of devotion.

“So smooth, Ewan,” you respond, feeling warm all over. “Do you have any other lines, or can I eat my food in peace now?”

“Hey, I’m not stopping you,” he smirks.

“No, you’re just staring.”

“Guess I’m just… making up for lost time,” he expresses, more sincere this time, unable to mask the longing in his tone.

You hold back your snarky retort. The logical side of you wants to believe that the period you spent apart had been necessary, and that both of you grew as people in the interim. He landed the role, you were able to focus on filming, and it was well and good—until it all came crashing down when he broke first that December night. 

If you hadn’t broken things off and the production for Ewan’s film bypassed him, it would have been on your conscience. But maybe your continued romance would have provided some balm for the both of you. 

It’s no use looking back on that now. You both made your choices. And now you stand on the precipice of what could be the end, or the beginning of everything anew. 

He is indulging in his wine when you finally find your words. “I’m sorry, Ewan. For everything.”

He catches on the crack in your voice and the quiver of your lip. His hand shoots across the table to encase yours. “Hey, darling, it’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah. Look, you know how I feel about you. I love you, and that’s all that matters. Everything else is just noise.”

“But—”

“I’ll always love you,” he pauses, before dropping the words that make your heart clench uncontrollably, “even if you choose him.”

“Oh, Ewan—”

“Don’t get me wrong. It would hurt like a bitch. It would kill me… but I’ll survive, you know what I mean?”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. “You’re too good to me.”

“No,” he sighs, smiling ruefully. “Thing is, I haven’t been. Not always, and I’ll have to live with that. But whatever makes you happy now… is what I want. It’s all I want.”

“Okay,” you reply, and you mean it. You believe him. 

“So,” he says, his voice a little lighter, “darling, should I be offended that you still haven’t given me my birthday gift?”

Your brows shoot straight up. “Oh? I guess I should have… Well, what would you like?”

Ewan holds your gaze unwaveringly for a moment, waiting for you to catch on to the significance of his impish smirk. You roll your eyes fondly. “Not here, babe. There are other people in this restaurant. It wouldn’t be ideal. Besides, we really shouldn’t give Deuxmoi more fodder for their messed-up blind items.”

A beat of silence, broken by your shared laughter. And the night unfolds perfectly.

You’re halfway to the restaurant’s exit when the inevitable happens—a hesitant voice calls out behind you, stopping you both in your tracks.

“Excuse me?”

You turn to find a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, standing a few steps away. Her phone is clutched tightly in her hands, and her eyes are wide with recognition. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt… but are you… from the show House of the Dragon?”

Ewan freezes for half a second, his brows lifting in surprise, before his easy charm kicks in. “That would be us.”

“Busted,” you add with a grin.

“Oh my God,” the girl whispers, visibly overwhelmed. “Would it… would it be okay if I got a picture? I’m such a huge fan of both of you.”

Ewan glances at you for approval, before he smiles and nods at the girl. “Sure, let’s do it.”

The girl practically vibrates with excitement as she hands her phone to a passing waiter. She giggles nervously, moving in close for the photo, and then you notice her glancing at you in a state of awe. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers. 

“Damn right, she is,” Ewan says sincerely.

“Thank you so much,” the girl gushes, taking her phone back from the waiter. “You’re both amazing. Really.”

As she walks away, Ewan leans in and mumbles in your ear, “I guess we’re not as inconspicuous as we thought.”

You laugh under your breath. “Let’s get out of here.”

The cool night air greets you two, sporting your superhero masks, the fabric blocking the faint metallic scent of oncoming rain. You make it halfway down the long main street before the sky opens up, the first fat raindrops splashing against the cobblestones. Within seconds, it’s pouring, the rain drenching you both as you scramble for cover.

Ewan pulls you toward a narrow alley, where an aging awning juts out above a shuttered shopfront. The shelter is flimsy at best, but it’s enough to keep the worst of the downpour at bay. You’re both breathless and laughing, your clothes sticking to your skin.

He lifts his mask just enough to show his mouth, a grin tugging at the corners. “Rain’s not so bad, is it?”

You pull your own mask off entirely, shaking out your damp hair as you glance up at him. “Speak for yourself, Spidey. I’m soaked.”

He takes a step closer, his hands sliding gently around your waist. “And yet you look incredible.”

You snort, though your cheeks flush at the usual intensity of his words. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stunning,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. His fingers tighten on your waist, and you can feel the warmth of him even through the cold rain. “C’mere.”

You don’t hesitate. Reaching up, you tug his mask higher, just past his nose, exposing his lips. Then you rise onto your toes, closing the space between you. The kiss is deep, unhurried, and utterly consuming. Rain slides down your face and his, cool droplets mingling with the warmth of your skin. One of his hands moves up to cradle the back of your neck, drawing you impossibly closer to deepen the kiss.

You moan against his mouth, and his heart soars. 

When you finally pull back, you’re both panting, your lips wet and foreheads pressed together.

“You’re unreal, darling,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “How did I get so fucking lucky?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you kiss him again, softer this time, as if sealing a promise only the two of you could ever understand.

Matt stands on the villa’s enclosed balcony, nursing a half-empty glass of Rioja and gazing out into the moonlit courtyard. The rain has softened to a mere drizzle, but everyone remains scattered inside the large holiday house. A knot of frustration is growing in his chest. He hadn’t been looking for anything serious when the two of you started seeing each other—at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. But watching you walk hand in hand with Ewan as you enter the gates feels like a punch to the gut.

You pause near the courtyard’s edge, leaning into Ewan’s shoulder as you exchange a few quiet words. Even from this distance, Matt can see the easy intimacy between you—the kind of connection he hasn’t quite managed to reach with you. He drains the rest of his wine in one gulp, the bitterness lingering on his tongue as he sets the glass down on the railing with more force than necessary.

“You know, glaring at them isn’t going to change anything,” comes a familiar, teasing voice.

He turns to find Liv leaning against the doorframe, one brow arched and a knowing smirk on her lips. Unlike him, she seems utterly at ease, as if she’s been waiting for this moment.

“Wasn’t glaring,” he mutters, though the tension in his jaw betrays him.

“Right,” she drawls, stepping onto the balcony. “Just brooding in the dark getting sloshed. Very subtle.”

Matt lets out a low chuckle despite himself, running a hand through his hair. “Subtlety’s overrated, love.”

Liv moves to stand beside him, following his gaze toward the courtyard. You and Ewan are heading inside now, your laughter grating at Matt’s ears as he watches your soaked figures, not that either of you seems to care. 

“You’re not going to make a scene, are you?” Liv asks, her tone light but edged with genuine concern.

He shakes his head. “Course not. We’re professionals.”

“But?” she prompts, tilting her head to study him.

“But it doesn’t mean I’m giving up.” His voice is steady, but there’s a vulnerability beneath it that catches her off guard. “Not yet, anyway.”

“You know I support you,” she says finally, “but there’s a fine line between persistence and masochism.”

He glances at her, his lips twitching into a wry smile. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m serious, Matt,” she insists, though her tone softens. “If you’re going to fight for her, do it because you love her, not because you’re afraid of losing.”

Matt looks at her, really looks at her, and for the first time, he notices the faint freckles dusting her nose, the flecks of gold in her deep brown eyes. There’s something unspoken in her gaze—an understanding, perhaps even admiration—and it nearly throws him off balance.

“Thanks,” he says after a moment, his voice quieter. “For the advice.”

“Don’t mention it.” She offers him a small, lopsided smile. “Just don’t make an arse of yourself, yeah? Remember, you are Daemon fucking Targaryen, after all.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “That I am.”

As she turns to leave, Matt finds himself watching her for a beat longer than necessary, a thought flickering at the edge of his mind. But he pushes it aside, refocusing on the task ahead. You’re still inside, still within reach…

But no. 

He’s not ready to let you go—not yet. But the truth is, you were never his to hold onto. Maybe you never had been.

The vacation winds down far too quickly, as such things always do. Bags are packed and lined against walls, the last remnants of a shared holiday ready to disperse back to their separate lives.

Louise moves through the villa with her phone in hand, snapping selfies with everyone in sight. Her laughter is infectious as she cajoles even the most camera-shy among the cast to join. Namely, Ewan Mitchell. She’s especially persistent with him, sneaking in shots when he isn’t looking or pulling others into the frame to get him to relax.

Freddie and Tom take one last dip in the pool, their shouts and splashes echoing through the courtyard. They’re trying to see who can hold their breath underwater the longest, both acting like overgrown kids unwilling to admit the holiday is ending. Bethany and Phia, meanwhile, are busy tidying up the kitchen. Somehow, they manage to rope in a few of the guys to help, using mock threats of withholding night-out invitations to get the job done.

You sit in the quiet of the villa’s courtyard, the sunrise emerging low on the horizon, painting the scene in hues of gold and amber. You find yourself enjoying the stillness, savouring this pocket of calm before reality rushes back in.

But the peace is short-lived. A familiar voice calls your name, and you glance up to see Matt approaching with his deliberate gait, his eyes shaded with an emotion you’re almost afraid to name. 

You know he knows. You know it’s time.

“Hey,” he says, stopping a few feet away. The air between you is charged, heavy with things unsaid, but perhaps these very same things have lingered since the beginning of your little romance.

“Hey,” you mirror softly, already knowing where this conversation is heading.

He gestures toward the empty chair beside you. “Mind if I join?”

You shake your head, and he takes the seat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. For a moment, neither of you speaks. The sounds of the villa fill the silence—distant chatter, everyone fussing and unaware of what’s unraveling between yourself and Matt. 

Finally, he breaks the quiet. “I’ve been thinking about us. About… what comes next.”

You’re not surprised. You had seen the tension in his jaw last night, the flicker of frustration in his eyes as you returned to the villa hand in hand with Ewan. You’d known this conversation was inevitable.

“Matt…” you start, but he holds up a hand, stopping you.

“Just… let me say this first,” he says, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “I know things between us weren’t supposed to get complicated. And I know I wasn’t looking for something serious when we started this. But somewhere along the way, that changed for me.”

He shifts, his fingers threading together as he searches for the right words. “I don’t regret any of it. Not a single moment. But I also know I can’t hold onto something that was never really mine to begin with.”

Your chest tightens at his words, taking in the raw honesty in his tone. You reach out, placing a hand over his. “You mean a lot to me, Matt. You really do. But…”

“But it’s him, isn’t it?” he finishes for you, his smile stiff and not reaching his eyes. “It’s always been him.”

You want to nod, but it doesn’t feel right. You worry that any sort of affirmation from you at this moment would be too cruel. Salt in his wound. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know,” he says simply. He leans back, exhaling deeply as he tilts his head as he gazes at you. “While I still have you, my love… while you’re still here with me… mind if I steal one last kiss?”

His words take you by surprise, but the sincerity in his eyes makes you nod. He leans in, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips meet yours. The kiss is gentle, filled with bittersweet yearning, and when he pulls away, there’s a sense of finality in his gaze.

“I would have been the happiest man if you let me fall in love with you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek, “my Alyna.”

Then he rises, giving you one last lingering look before turning and walking away.

The memory of that night plays in your mind as you sit on the plane, your hand intertwined with Ewan’s. He’s staring out the window, his profile bathed in the soft glow of the light streaming from the window. You’re both quiet, but his thumb strokes idly against the back of your hand, a silent reassurance of his presence.

The flashback is vivid—Matt’s earnestness, the way he had let you go with grace. But even in that moment, there had been no doubt in your mind. It had always been Ewan. From the moment you met him, from the way he looks at you now as if you are the only thing in the world that matters, you knew. Every detour, every mistake, every painful scenario had only ever led you back to him.

Ewan turns to you then, his eyes soft and searching. “You okay, darling?”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You hesitate for a moment before answering. “About how lucky I am.”

Those damn dimples appear as he smiles. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.”

You laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. The steady rhythm of his breathing soothes you as your eyes flutter shut, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly at peace. The past is behind you, and the future—whatever it may hold—is something you’re ready to face together.

As the plane cuts through the clouds, carrying you both to LA, you let the weight of the last few months fall away. Your boyfriend’s arm wraps around you, anchoring you with him in the present. And everything feels exactly as it should.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and the two of you barely make it into the hallway before your lips clash again. The mimosas from the bar downstairs left a faint tang in your mouth, but Ewan’s familiar taste is just as sharp as he slides his tongue past your lips. His hands grip your face with sheer desire as he kisses you, his body pressing you against the wall outside your suite.

You fumble with the room key, laughing breathlessly against his lips when the thin piece of plastic slips from your fingers. “Ewan,” you groan, “if you don’t let me get the door open, we’re going to scandalise the hotel staff.”

His teeth grazes the curve of your jaw as he growls softly, “Don’t care. Let them watch, darling.”

The lock finally clicks, and the two of you tumble inside, the door swinging shut with a muted thud behind you. He kicks off his shoes without a thought, already reaching for the zipper at the back of your dress. His fingers are skilled, traversing the familiar territory of your curves, impatiently hitching the fabric down to your hips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his accent curling deliciously around the words as his gaze devours every inch of you. 

Your hands aren’t idle either, tugging his shirt over his head and raking your nails lightly down his chest. He hisses at the sensation, his muscles tensing under your touch. “God, I missed this,” you purr, your lips following the path of your hands.

“Missed you,” he counters, pulling you closer until there isn’t a breath of space left between you. The queen-sized bed is only a few steps away, but neither of you seem to care, too lost in the frenzy of lips, teeth, tongue, and hands.

When he finally lifts you into his arms and carries you to the mattress, he lays you down with a gentleness that belies the hunger in his eyes and the world stands still as he hovers over you.

“I need you, my darling,” he confesses lowly.

“You have me,” you whisper back, pulling him down to meet your lips once more.

What follows is a collision of need and intimacy, a desperate reclamation of what had always been yours. 

The next morning, sunlight pours through the sheer curtain of your hotel room. The soft sounds of downtown LA waking up filter through the window. You snuggle against him, his arm lazily draped around your waist, your bare skin pressed together under the tangled sheets. It had been a long, passionate night of lovemaking. Leave it to Ewan to make up for months of lost time in a matter of hours. 

He presses a sleepy kiss to your shoulder, his voice still groggy with sleep. “Good morning, love.”

You smile, closing your eyes again as his lips brush your temple. This is peace—a fleeting, beautiful pocket of bliss. But peace isn’t destined to last, especially not for those in your profession.

Something will get brought up, unearthed, stirred. 

Meanwhile, across the internet, chaos has erupted. 

A Daily Mail article runs alongside blurry paparazzi photos of you and Matt in Spain and an older photo of you sharing a laugh on a date with Ewan in LA. The headline screams betrayal: “Caught Between Two Dragons: Actress Allegedly Juggled Co-Stars Matt Smith and Ewan Mitchell During Spain Getaway!” The story spins a salacious tale, claiming you had been seen cozying up to Matt before jetting off with Ewan.

Of course, TMZ can be relied on to publish the most unreliable piece, alleging that Ewan became involved with you while still publicly linked to Jenna. Photos of Ewan and you with fans in Spain were put side by side with those of him and Jenna smiling at each other in interviews. “Sources claim Mitchell has been sneaking around, one girlfriend from his TV show set and one from his upcoming film set…”

A Deuxmoi post soon follows, fueling the fire with even more speculation. “Spotted: rising actress allegedly two-timing her co-stars,” it reads, accompanied by grainy photos that should be anything but believable. There’s a shot of you and Ewan at the cozy, private dinner in Mallorca, looking every bit like a couple, followed by a picture—clearly taken from a distance—of you and Matt sharing that bittersweet goodbye kiss on the villa terrace. Louise’s sneaky photo has gone viral, misinterpreted and plastered across social media.

The story is twisted, of course—context lost in the frenzy of assumptions and rumours. But the truth rarely matters to the public. The narrative has already taken on a life of its own, the whispers and pointed fingers spreading,  along with the swelling tide of judgment from people who don’t know you, or the situation, at all.

The internet is divided.

Fans on Twitter rally in support.

“I don’t care what the tabloids say—she and Ewan belong together. The chemistry doesn’t lie.”

“They’re all adults; let them figure it out. The press needs to stop pitting people against each other.”

But the criticism was harsh, too.

“If she’s been playing both sides, that’s low. Poor Matt.”

“They're both cheaters. They deserve each other.”

“This is such a PR mess. Just admit it if you’re together!”

Back in the hotel room, the chaos of the outside world is a distant hum—until your phone buzzes incessantly on the nightstand. You groan, reaching for it, but Ewan pulls you back to his chest.

“Don’t,” he murmurs against your neck. “I don’t wanna share you with the world just yet, darling. You’re all mine.”

Everyone can speculate, criticise, gossip, and whatnot, but none of that noise matters when you’re in the arms of the one you love. 

The world can fuckin’ wait.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued...)

Some notes in the margins...

If this reads like I'm trying to rediscover my footing in this story, that's cause I am. Trust me, I am not satisfied with this chapter. But I am also my own biggest critic...

Can you guess which scene(s) I slacked on?

Plus, the way I talked big game about the supposedly legendary smut scene. I just... could not. For now. I reckon it'll be a bonus chapter soon.

More drama! More drama! At least it's just them two now 😉

[writingroom21]

Okay imagine this reader goes in a all boys school pretending to be a dude to cover up her brother but soon rafe later knows she's a girl since she's in the guys shower room😫

A/N: I literally love this idea so much. She's The Man is one of my favorite movies.

Boys Bathroom

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex(wrap it up), p in v, overstimulation, squirting, oral (f receiving), fingering, semi public sex (communal bathroom), (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.6K

The plan was simple. You would go to the school for two weeks and then swap places again. It shouldn’t be that hard to fool everyone since the two of you are twins. Since your parents found out they were having twins they got the two of you matching things. Your cribs, toys, clothes were all bought to match.

 The only downside was one of you is a girl and the other is a boy.

When the news was broken to them, they had mixed emotions. On one hand they get the best of both worlds with one of each. The other is that they planned on having the same gender twice. They tried to look past it and throughout childhood it was fine. Your dad had the perfect little boy to play catch and watch sports with. Your mom had a little angel that she could dress up and show around. 

It was all perfect until you hit puberty. Max, your brother stayed the perfect son that he always was. But you had become the wild child of the family. You weren’t really wild, just not the picture perfect daughter they had in mind. In middle school you started to not want your mom to dress you, leading to arguments about how you dressed.

Then now in highschool you are focused on being an artist, which isn’t an ambitious enough job for them. You would think that after their divorce they would stop agreeing with each other. But no they will always agree on one thing, you are too much to handle. They just don’t like how outspoken you are and how you will not conform to the version of you they want.

They focus on you so much they don’t even realize that it’s Max they should be worrying about. Sure he gets good grades and he never gets in trouble, it doesn’t mean he’s not doing things. You are always covering for him so he can sneak out of the house. Driving him around after he got so drunk with his friends that he can’t function. They don’t see that side of him so they worship the ground he walks on. 

They love him so much that they are now sending him to a prestigious all boys school. Max has been complaining about it all week since they told him. It’s a boarding school so he will be under 24/7 supervision. Which is a no in his books. Max has done everything basically to try and get out of this to no luck. Leading us to the moment the plan was formed.

“Come on please. Just do this one thing for me.” Max pleads at the end of your bed. You continue reading your book ignoring him and his weird request. He says your name to get your attention. “I’ll get you something when I come back. A token from Bora Bora sounds nice right?” You scoff at his audacity. “Dude I’m not going to pretend to be you so you can go on some vacation. It wouldn’t even work, you're a guy and I’m not.” Max throws himself on your bed, face planting onto the sheets. “If you do this for me I’ll get mom and dad to lay off your art school decision.” The book drops from your hands and you stare at him. You don’t have to think, getting them off your back is much needed. “Fine.”

The wig itches your scalp as you fix your clothes making sure your binding doesn’t come loose. The last thing you need is for it to come undone and your boobs come out. It;s the second day at the school, everyone seems to be buying that you are Max. Your best friend had shown you how to place wigs on, making sure that it can’t get loose. It seems to be staying in place so you can’t complain. You have to get used to squishing your boobs so much but it’ll be okay.

Your parent’s had splurged for Max to have his own dorm so you get to relax in your own space thank god. It would have been perfect if it weren’t for the boy next door. You had been unpacking when a knock interrupted you. Alright show time. You open the door to be greeted with one of the hottest guys you have ever seen. He has to be at least six feet tall, with hair you just want to wrap your fingers around. Don’t even get you started on his blue eyes. 

You were so caught up with checking him out that you didn’t notice he said something. “Hello?” He questions with this weird look. “Huh?” You clear your throat and make your voice deeper. “Sorry, what did you say?” You stand up straighter, trying to make you look taller. “Said I’m Rafe. I'm in the room right next door.” He points to the left. 

“Nice to meet you, I'm.” Your name almost slips out but you covered it with a cough. “My name's Max. Want to come in.” Rafe shrugs, entering and looking around your room. There’s not really much to look at. The walls are bare and the clothes are all put away. The desk has books for the classes you’ll be in and unfortunately a box of pads. Rafe spins around to you.

“Dude why the fuck do have those?” He practically shrieks. He’s pointing behind him and you follow it to see the box. Fuck you had forgotten to put them away. “Oh I have a twin sister that likes to prank me. She always packs something embarrassing in my bags.” You try to explain. Rafe listens as you fumble through your words, kinda weirded out that some dude has chick products.

“You have a twin?” He really doesn’t believe you. Instead of explaining further you pull out your phone, finding a picture of yourself to show him. Rafe looks at the photo and then at you trying to find similarities. “I can see it.” He looks closer at it again. “You know she’s kinda hot.” A blush forms on your cheeks. “Thank you.” Your eyes widen when you realize what you said.

“I mean she would say thank you or something dumb like that.” You laugh off. Rafe just nods at you slowly making his way towards the door. He can’t wait to get out of this room, something about you just isn’t right. “Right. Uh I gotta go. See ya man.” He was out of the room as soon as the words left his mouth. Leaving you there hoping you didn’t give yourself away.

The next few days you saw Rafe everywhere. He was in two of your classes, English and Biology. You’re thankful that your English teacher had assigned setting by last name. You were far away from him but your eyes would still find him. Looking at the back of his head and averting your eyes when he looks back at you. It didn’t help that he decided to be your lab partner for biology.

He sat down next to you, throwing his books down without saying a word. He doesn’t know why he can’t stay away. Rafe feels like something is wrong but at the same time he wants to figure out what. It’s the reason why he sat next to you and why he notices the things you do. He tries to play it off as if he gets close to you that he’ll likely get with your twin. If only he knew it was actually you.

The two of you watch each other in the cafeteria as you eat. Eyes meeting and looking away just to look back. At this point Rafe thinks you're gay, he has nothing wrong with that, it's not his type though. His friends are talking around him but his brain is playing a game of tennis. Throwing ideas out left and right.

Maybe you are just socially awkward and that's why you act like that around him. Or you are from some freaky conservative family that sheltered you for too long. All his thoughts just keep playing in his mind, every interaction on display to dissect. This game of cat and mouse continues for the first week you are there. You are just counting down the days until you can leave.

The stress of not getting caught has been eating you alive. Both of your parents have been texting you to go to their house since you weren’t there the following week. They think you are still staying at the other parents house. A risky plan but they only talk to each other when you do something they don’t like or when Max does good in something. The idea of them finding out has been eating you alive. 

You had called Max, anxiety getting the best of you. “What do you want?” The call is a little fuzzy, his international plan seems to be only doing okay. “You need to come home like now. I can’t keep doing this.” You can hear people talking in the background of his call. He says something to them and the noise dies down. “Listen it’s just one more week you can do it.”

“Max no you need to come home. Mom and dad keep asking me to come home. What if they find out?” If he was there right now he would slap the back of your head to have your senses come back. You’ve always had the flare for dramatics in his eyes. “Relax mom and dad arent going to find out. I’ll be back before they even notice. Just one more week.” You give in knowing that he won’t come back.

In the hallway Rafe was making his way to his room after coming back from a run. He was in the middle of taking his headphones off when he heard voices coming from your room. Curiosity got the better of him and he moved closer to the door, resting an ear on it to get a better shot. He heard it all, from the begging of your brother to come back to him saying he’ll be back in a week. What he can’t really understand is the voices.

Without a doubt he believes the female voice to be you, Max’s twin sister. What he can’t wrap his head around is the male voice on the other end. In his mind he knows that it’s you, it had to be. But the voice sounds different, the tone and octave aren’t the same that he’s been hearing. It's confusing to say the least. He goes to his room when he hears the call end, piecing together all the information that he knows. Which isn’t much.

You get awkward around him when he tries to talk to you in class, acting like a pre-teen who can’t talk to girls. Now that he thinks about it there’s a good chance you are gay. He catches you checking him out in English and the lunch room. Always tables away with your eyes glued to him. Then there are the times where he will see you blush at something he says. Rafe knows he’s a good looking guy. Girls were constantly throwing themselves at him before his dad sent him off to this shit hole.

He ignores the rest of his thoughts as he winds down from his run. Taking the necessary post workout vitamins and shakes he has. During this time you had made your way to the bathroom. Having to share a communal bathroom has not been ideal for this situation. The only times you can shower is super early in the morning and late at night. Since you are not a morning person, night showers it is. 

Peaking your head out your door you check the hallway to make sure no one is coming. Once the coast is clear you book it to the bathroom, running into the shower stalls. The stalls don’t have doors, just two curtains. You would think for the amount of money it takes to go here they would have better showering options. You strip in the first section letting the water heat up. When the water is hot enough you get in. Even for the lousy coverage they do have nice showers.

It was large enough to have double the space needed. There was a detachable shower head that had amazing water pressure. Plus a little bench to keep your stuff on not only in the changing space but the shower as well. Let’s just say that these showers have been the highlight to all of this mess. You get under the running stream, the water coats your body. Warming you up as you stand under the stream.

You go through your routine. Washing your hair you start to hum to a song that’s been stuck in your head. Getting lost in the moment you sign the lyrics softly, switching to different songs that randomly popped up. You were so distracted that you didn’t hear that someone had walked into the bathroom. Rafe had come in to wash away the sweat from his run when he heard singing. 

He stopped for a moment when he realized it wasn’t a guy singing. That or this poor guy’s balls haven’t dropped. He walks closer to where the sound is coming from. Making sure to keep his footsteps light. The last thing he wants is for the person to hear him and stop. He stops in front of the stall where the voice is coming from. Yeah there’s definitely a chick in there he thinks. Without really thinking about what he’s doing and how he’s close to becoming a creep. He pulls the first curtain aside, walking in. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

You let out a small scream, scared from the sound of Rafe’s voice. You stand there frozen not knowing what to do. You’ve been caught, the person on the other side obviously knows you aren’t a guy. “Well?” You let yourself grab the curtain, pulling it around you so you can look at the person. “I’m so sorry. It’s a really long story actual-” Your words die when you see who it is. Rafe.

He’s as shocked as you are, both of you have wide eyes. “Your Max’s twin.” Then he says your name, to double check he had it right. “What the fuck are you doing here.” You want to answer, you really do. But his towel is hanging low on his waist, his toned stomach on display. That’s when it clicked to him, Max wasn’t gay because it wasn’t Max. It was you.

It all makes so much sense now. “Max wanted to go on vacation so he had me pretend to be him.” You don’t look him in the eyes. Mostly out of shame of being caught, the other being that you are too busy checking him out. You can’t help but wonder what he looks like without it on. A pink blush graces your cheeks at the thought. The reaction is noticed by Rafe.

He then realizes you are naked behind that curtain. Your wet body is right there for him to grab, only separated by thin plastic. He looks you up and down, mostly seeing your silhouette due to the curtin being slightly white. His dick is getting hard just thinking about you and how wet you must feel. He covers himself with a hand the other holding his shower stuff. “So you’ve been pretending to be him this whole time?”

“Yup.” You clutch the plastic to your chest, the water hitting the back of you. “Well this is awkward now.” He scratches the back of his neck looking at the ground. “I told you that I thought you were hot.” He laughs, shaking his head. When his hand falls back to his side you take it in yours. Hoping that your bicep can help the plastic keep you covered. “It’s okay. I think you're hot too.”

Maybe it's the fact that he has a pretty girl in front of him or the fact he hasn’t been laid in a while since being her, but he’s about to lose control. Fuck he’s been so desperate that he imagined you that night after seeing your photo as he masturbated. This is honestly a dream come true for him. He laces his fingers with yours, placing his things down. 

“You know I read somewhere that we should be saving as much water as we can. Mind if I get in with you?” Rafe never read that anywhere. The only reading he does is when he’s texting or doing school work. You will never catch him reading something about climate change or whatever. You smirk as you look up at him, dropping the curtain to take his towel off. “Mhmmm. Wouldn’t want to be wasteful.” He leans over you, his height allowing him to see all of you as he looks down. 

Your hands graze up his thigh, fingertips dancing along his dick. One of his hands cups your face to bring you in for a kiss, the other plays with a nipple. He backs you up to the wall and deepens the kiss. His hand moving lower to rub your clit. Your hand tightens around him, a moan slipping your lips.

He pulls back to watch your face, wanting to absorb every moan you let out. From the side of his eye he sees the shower head. He smirks down at you, pulling his hand back and taking yours off him. “Is everything okay?” You’re worried something happened and he wants to stop. “Yeah pretty girl it is. Why don’t you sit on that bench for me?” Even though it was a question he meant it as a command.

You hesitate at first, concerned about how sanitary it is. Then you see the look in those pretty blue eyes and your concerns vanish. Sitting down, you watch as he takes the shower head down, switching the stream setting. He’s probably going to regret this later but he kneels down on the tiles. Positioning the shower head between your legs, the strong stream hits your clit. You didn’t see that he adjusted the water temperature so it wasn’t burning hot.

“That feel good?” Your hand flies to his shoulder, nails marking his flesh. “So good.” You moan out, trying to be mindful of your volume. Rafe gently moves the head around, creating circles on your clit. It feels so fucking good. He leans over you, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples. He sucks on it while his unoccupied hand finds your entrance, teasing a finger in you.

Rocking the finger back and forth, he adds a second when he feels you relax around him. The sensation of his mouth, finger, and water is too much. You are biting so hard on your lip to stay quiet that you’re bleeding. You release your lip with a wince, the sharp sting radiates in your bottom lip. Rafe looks up at the sound, eyes clocking the red coming from the cut. “Poor baby.”

He licks the blood, giving a quick suck to your lip to make sure he got everything. “It’s just too much for you, isn't it? Hmm?” He taunts as his fingers increase in speed. Your climax is right there, you can feel it in your fingertips. “Please Rafe. I” You sob rips it’s way out of your throat, your orgasim over powering. You are physically shaking from the intensity but he doesn’t let up. He keeps the water right where it is, his fingers increase their pace. He goes back to sucking on your nipples. You try to tell him it’s too much but all that comes out is moans. 

It feels like your orgasim is never ending. Then with one more stroke to your g-spot you were gushing. Rafe takes the shower head away, still fingering you to get you to squirt more. You keep drenching him, his fingers now rubbing your clit furiously only making it worse. He drops the shower head, his hand shooting up to cover your mouth. Silencing you moans as the last bit comes gushing out of you. You’re spent, body limp from that earth shattering orgasim.

“That was so fucking hot.” Rafe bends down and starts to lick you clean. Dying to get a taste of you. You push his head away from how sensitive you are. Your clit feels like it’s on fire. He pulls you up and turns you around to bend over on the bench. He’s not going to last long, he was close to blowing his loud just watching you. There’s just no way in hell he’s giving up his only chance to fuck you.

Before you could protest he’s already slipping in. You’re so wet that he slides right in and bottoms out. He gives you a second to adjust and then he’s ramming his hip into you. You’re still sensitive so your next release builds up quickly. He wants to be embarrassed from how fast he comes, he really does. He just can’t find it in him to really care.

You feel so good wrapped around him, your walls constricting him so tight. He barely had room to keep fucking you as you second orgasim ripped through you. He quickly followed, pulling himself out and jerking off so he could paint your ass. It’s okay because he’ll wash it off of you in a second. You get up after getting your bearings and the two of you wash off. “That was really fucking good.” You dream out loud. 

Rafe gives you a kiss, nibbling on your lips. You wince due to the cut. “Sorry.” He gives it a kiss better. “Same time tomorrow?” You smile and nod.

Safe to say the following week was spent sneaking off at any given chance you had.

[sizzleissues]

Its May.

Okay so this is in the same AU I had last year its just changed and evolved while also being the exact same. Except now I have 15,000 words of it written, like 7,000 words of planning and lore and hours upon hours of research that I will be pointedly ignoring. Will be posting more stuff this month about the AU and my hopes and dreams for it

Also slight art improvement check? I’ll put their original mermaid designs below the cut.

It’s Marinette as a mermaid and … its not Adrien or Chat Noir but a third worse thing (Catwalker but in the purest manifestation of it being a curse and not who he wants to be) I will be making designs for mer!Ladybug, and mer!Adrien as its own thing later on.

Okay if you want to indulge me look below the cut

Old mermaid designs first. I am going to be talking about my design thoughts, thoughts and ramblings about this AU and what I’ve been up to. You have been warned

As you can see, some things have changed but neither design I hated, I just wanted to go further with it.

My brain is quite specific about mermaids and how I want them to generally look. I wanted to distinguish biological merfolk from transformed humans by having them being anatomically different. So Adrien has a vertical tail instead which is also way faster underwater. His transformation is quite distressing for him and very chaotic. Of course when he accepts it he’s not so raggedy.

Marinette similarly avoids her life as a mermaid by becoming human and I wanted her mermaid design to hint toward her fascination with humans. She wears a top she fashioned from human fabric she found in a sunken merchant vessel. In general all other merfolk either forgo clothes or wear things fashioned from materials available to them. There’s deep fear of humans and human things so even though human clothes are available to them (off dead bodies but…. Whatever) they choose to difference themselves as much as possible. The same taboos don’t exist for them and their bodies are already adapted from the temperature of their environment. Adrien has stray bits of netting and seaweed on him because he’s not exactly the best at controlling his speed and often crash’s through fishing nets and patches of seaweed resulting in stuff being caught on him.

A lot of their designs are still being worked but I’ve definitely pushed them the right direction!

On to the AU. You might have seem me cryptically talk about something I’m writing the past few weeks. This is because it’s been in my brain since last May and been on and off writing it since then. I decided I’d talk about it once May came back around but and then when I finished writing it, start posting sneak peaks and more spoilery art until it was fully edited and I felt confident in it to post with an aim for it to finish posting once May rolled around again. Oh god.

It’s set in the late 1700s in a fictional version of France that’s actually fragmented over a bunch of islands. I have done more fashion research than I ever thought I’d do and in the end we will still be taking creative license but know I do know what they actually wore! I ALSO did a butt tonne of research about sailing ships and turns out they are super complicated and now I know too much and yet too little still about them. It should be super fun and action packed if I can manage. Have some really good scenes already in my head I know you’ll love. We’re already three ships battle deep and I’ve only written four chapters. (It chills out for a bit after that)

This is entirely self-indulgent by the way. I’m writing this for me, you guys are just a bonus. I literally don’t care as long as it satiates my rabid need for the fic that only lives in my brain at the moment. Saying that, I do want to put my best foot forward.

The next thing I will be posting for this is their human forms and more blabblerings about that. For I am insane and all.

[maybejj]

The Beginning of Us. Part 1

babydaddy!rafe x sweetheart!reader

masterlist

summary: You and Rafe were high school sweethearts that continued into college however Rafe went down the wrong path and you found out you were pregnant. 4 years later finds you and Rafe trying to navigate co-parenting your 3 year old son while overcoming life’s obstacles and past experiences.

warnings: mention of drugs, I think that’s it?

word count: 1.1k

“Mommy look at my tractor!” You hear your three year old son call to you from the other side of the room. You were distracting yourself from the fact Rafe was coming over to pick up Asher, the son you shared.

You turn towards him and gently smile. Asher was a spitting image of his dad. The only thing he inherited from you were your green eyes, everything else was all his father. The dimples, the blonde hair, the little smirk he got on his face right before he was about to do something he shouldn’t, his attitude. God, it was all Rafe. It use to make you emotional after you and Rafe broke it off but you’ve had time to move on. It doesn’t hurt as bad anymore.

“I see your tractor baby. It’s your favorite color.” You grinned at him and he returned it with his own goofy grin. Everything you did these days was to provide for your son. Making sure he had the best of the best and Rafe made sure of it as well. Your relationship with Rafe may have ended but you two try to put your differences aside to take care of Asher.

You and Rafe got together when you were 15. High school sweethearts, the power couple, the relationship everyone envied in high school. You were great together in high school. You were the couple that loved public displays of affection, always all over each other no matter the setting. Rafe was always so attentive to you, always so sweet and caring. You always listened to him and helped him express his emotions and feelings, especially when it came to his dad. There was never any arguing. Disagreements were common in any relationship and you definitely had those but you both never yelled at each other. You would work through any problems calmly to come to a solution. College was a different story.

You both went to UNC Chapel Hill and the first 3 months were unreal. The freedom of moving away from Kildare felt so good. You had your own dorm room, as did Rafe. You were both freshman at the time so your plans to have an apartment together was ruined by the college rules but you still made time for each other. Rafe was studying business, you were studying art. You thought you had the world at your fingertips. That was, until Rafe got into a fraternity. It didn’t take long at all until you noticed the shift in him. The staying out later than normal, lying to you about where he was, going to parties every night, ditching plans with you more often than not. When he did make time to come to your dorm to say sorry for the night before, he smelled like liquor and his eyes were red around the edges. He constantly rubbed his index finger under his nose, almost rubbed raw. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes when he spoke to you. You weren’t stupid, you knew he was getting into stuff he shouldn’t and you told him as such. He immediately would blow up on you saying it was none of your business. It was a never ending cycle that went on for months. One night it become too much when you found two bags of Coke in his truck glove box.

The front door opening pulled you from your thoughts. Rafe entered the apartment with several bags in his hands. Asher immediately dropped his tractor and ran to his father, grabbing onto his pant leg and jumping up and down.

“Hey little man, you look like you’ve been busy today.” Rafe gently smiled down at him while holding the bags in his hands away from the little toddler attached to his leg.

Asher only nodded multiple times and continued hugging his leg. Rafe didn’t move from his spot in the doorway, just gazing down at his son with a soft smile on his face. You watched silently from the other side of the room. Rafe only let his guard fully down around Asher, his son bringing out the best in him. You truly believed Asher was the only thing that saved Rafe from an overdose.

Rafe looked away from his son and met your gaze. The smile left his face and the solemn expression took over again. He nodded in your direction and lifted his hand holding the bags, “Got some stuff from the store I thought you might need.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” You shook your head. Every time he came over he would bring bags of stuff he thought you or Asher might need; baby wipes, deodorant, your favorite shampoo, Asher’s favorite snacks, your favorite candy. He did it every time and every time you told him he didn’t have to do it. Rafe would just give you a flat look, shake his head, and change the subject.

Rafe exhaled softly and said your name which had you swallowing thickly. The way he said your name after all these years still caused butterflies in your stomach.

Asher seemed to be getting bored of not getting attention and detached himself from Rafe’s leg. He reached his chubby hands above his head to grab one of the bags Rafe was holding, “I take it Daddy. I strong for mommy.”

You and Rafe laughed as he took one of the bags and set it on the chair in the living room. Rafe followed Asher’s steps and laid the rest of the bags down for you to go through later.

“You got your bag ready, little man?” Rafe raised his eyebrows in Asher’s direction and the toddler quickly scrambled down the hall to his room. You waited until Asher was out of sight until you turned back to Rafe.

“I know I don’t have to say this but I feel better when I do,” You made eye contact with Rafe. “Please be careful.”

Rafe nodded slightly, raising his hand to run across his jaw. Rafe knew you worried a lot about Asher, he’d gotten better with dealing with it and not getting so frustrated. It use to piss him off because he thought you didn’t trust him with his own son but it was deeper than that. You and Asher had been through a lot and Rafe knew firsthand what it did to you. You knew Rafe would protect Asher with his life, he’d done it before. You just couldn’t help but think about past experiences every time Rafe took him for an outing but you were trying to get better.

“You know we will. I’ll bring him back before dinner.” Rafe promised before you both were interrupted by the bundle of energy barreling through the living room with his Spider-Man backpack dragging behind him.

“Let’s go daddy!” Asher grabbed Rafe’s hand and drug him to the front door. He waved his hand half heartedly in your direction and pulled his father out of the apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts.