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yuurei20 · 3 days ago

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Summarized transcript of the Twisted Radio episode with Diasomnia! 🐉🦇⚔️⚡️

Highlights: A very good episode, all the Diasomnia VAs love their characters and each other’s characters and each other and it is very obvious when they interact.

Disclaimer: These are not direct quotes, this is all general summarizations and paraphrasing~

Begins with how they are happy to be all together in one place, for the first time in two years.

The opening talk set by last week: what do you find yourself buying when you travel?

⚡️It seems 🦦-kun wanted to buy a dragon sword… 🐉 I’ve bought one before. 🦇 Why wwww 🐉 In elementary school

On topic: 🐉 I love milk. Every time I go some place I buy milk to drink. A recent musical I was in traveled nationwide and the milk in Hokkaido is different depending upon the area. I was so happy.

🦇I like to get things to remind me of the trip. It doesn’t matter what they are. It doesn’t even have to be related to the area. Just a prize from a Game Center or a gacha toy or anything is fine.

⚔️ Dragons. Apparently they’re growing in popularity.

He talks about how around high school everyone loses interest, but then you become an adult and are like “actually yeah dragons are great” ww

🦇 We should get on that bandwagon. Officially recognized by Diasomnia ww ⚔️ We have the most noble and beautiful dragon of them all 🦇 Out of all the dragons that there are, he certainly stands out

(Everyone is laughing so much they are having so much fun)

⚡️I like getting fruit or something that was made from things grown in the area, even if it’s temporary, to remember the taste

(⚡️ is the host so it is his job to keep them on subject ww there are a lot of cuts in this episode, they must have talked for so long and needed to cut it down)

Fan letter: I had a dream where I talked about how wonderful Malleus-sama is for ten hours. What strange dreams have you had before?

⚡️I have been seeing the same dream since I was a kid. A kind of horror dream. The same dream where I am being chased by something.

⚔️ There are dreams I had as a kid that really left an impression on me. I remember them pretty well. Like one where I became a character from a cartoon that could fly. I became one of the main characters. An enemy would appear, someone would say “Let’s go!” and they’d all naturally start to fly. And even though I was a main character, I’d say “Let’s go!” and I was the only one who wouldn’t be able to fly. Everyone else flew off and I couldn’t. I was the main character and they all left me behind. I started crying that I couldn’t fly and then I woke up.

🦇 I’ve had a dream about situation where I could fly, too. Even though I could fly, when I jumped from somewhere high up instead of going straight I would go fly upwards, then think, “Yeah, I can fly,” and that is when I could go forward. I perform safety checks within my dream.

🐉 In a dream I had in university I could fly, but just some light floating. Everyone else travels very quickly, and at first I can as well, but then I get lower and lower, and soon I am floating about 5cm. I’m technically flying, but…I saw that dream a lot.

(This entire story ⚔️ is in the background dying of laughter)

About Malleus

He was very mysterious when he first appeared. ⚡️ says he had the feeling from the start that he was a very good character.

🦇 He had an atmosphere of someone who is difficult to go near.

⚔️ I like Malleus-sama even more now than I did before. Not just what about him that is firm but his soft side, his warm side, his cold side—we can see so many aspects of his character now, which has made him even more captivating. Because he is so mysterious something even more wonderful than what I had imagined has emerged—that is the impression I have of him now.

🦇 They did a great job with his casting. I didn’t really know anything at first, but doing this for so long, you can tell how perfect 🐉-kun is for this part.

🐉 I’m so happy :D

🦇 Of course everyone wants to know more in the beginning because of his cool voice, but 🐉-kun has a kindness to him. And that is what I came to understand. They took that into account when they chose him. When I figured that out, I was extremely impressed. This isn’t something that just anyone can do. It’s not enough to just provide a cool character voice. It’s a distinct charm that he has.

⚔️ The character is really packed with substance, but there’s still space left, and you can sense that mysteriousness. Because there is so much going on inside of him there are things for you to grasp at while simultaneously stirring your imagination. I really sense that.

🦇 When you try to think of other seiyuu like that, no one really comes to mind. It has to be 🐉-kun.

🐉 Is it okay if I start to cry?

⚔️ And when he sings…

⚡️ That humming…

⚔️ That was amazing.

🐉 That was so hard to do. They told me, “please hum like you mean it,” and I thought, “what is humming that you mean?” Humming that follows a melody, that becomes a sound. I had never done that before. It was really hard. We tried several different patterns.

⚔️ It was scary. Both an ending and a beginning.

🦇 But as the story continues I find him cute, too. And 🐉-kun is cute, too.

(Everyone is laughing, I think ⚔️ is going to die here)

🦇 No I’m serious, really, really.

🐉 While portraying Malleus the difficult thing is always not showing too much emotion,.The direction I am always receiving is “you can’t become human.” They’ll say, “that take sounded just like a regular guy.” The balance of how his normal is not normal for a human is always hard to do. And post-overblot Malleus—they’ll tell me, “Sorry, but Malleus sounds kind of scary.” I often get told “can you control the darkness a bit.” But through all that how do I still portray Malleus-ness…

🦇 The more you read for a character the more you come to understand them, but Malleus was last.

🐉 There was a lot of uncertainty in the beginning. I have concluded that he is cute. He’s a child. He’s been alive longer than the others, but his emotional state hasn’t caught up to that. He has so much power, but he lacks the normal concept of common sense. Things that are common sense to him are not so to others. I am always trying to portray that unusual dichotomy.

⚔️ talks about being able to see Malleus grow up in Book 7 through the different milestones were see in the flashbacks. There are places where he has always been the same but parts about him that have evolved. ⚔️ tells 🐉 that it seems like that must have been hard.

🐉 It was so hard. I think there’s probably a way of interacting with Malleus that's in line with how he understands things, even though I don't fully understand it. When encountering him for the first time, people around him might think, 'Wow, he doesn’t react at all!' But Malleus does react in his own way. I would receive many detailed directions like 'Please be surprised!' or 'Please react!' I didn’t create this performance all by myself, it has come together from the efforts of the staff, and I’m really grateful for that. I tend to lose track of what was the right way to approach things as Malleus. You can get confused between doing events and the main story, so getting back into the right mindset every time is pretty tough.

About Silver

🐉 I thought he was really cool when I saw him the first time.

⚡️ I think it’s cute how he falls asleep—he’ll wake up, apologize, and then immediately sleep again.

🦇 He’s really pretty.

🐉 I thought he had a beautiful face the first time I saw him.

⚔️ My portrayal of him hasn’t really changed since the beginning. We’ve gotten more information and there is more of a backbone now, and of course things change when new things are revealed. Even from the beginning he wasn’t just a cool character, he had a naturalness to him, and not just that he spaces out, but he tries to solve his problems with physical strength. Like in Book 7 with “if I hit it that will fix it.” I think his humanity is being expressed more these days.

🦇 It took a while, yeah?

⚔️ It took so long.

🦇 It took us a while to get to Malleus, too, but he had the impact of his first appearance. Silver didn’t have anything.

Now they’re talking about Lilia’s farewell party and Malleus and Silver crying together and not knowing how to express their emotions. Trying to be mature.

⚔️ He’s being a big brother to Silver!!

🦇 I figured something was coming soon, after that. And it went in an intense direction.

⚔️ There is so much about them that is a family. Father is Lilia, and Malleus-sama has a big-brother nature to him.

🐉 You really feel their familial relationship.

⚔️ He felt some responsibility. If the little brother starts to cry, the older brother—

🐉 He can’t cry.

⚔️ He’ll get desperate to try and be strong and try to solve the problem.

🐉 Like he has to step up.

🦇 So it was Silver’s fault.

⚡️⚔️🐉wwwwww

⚔️Not all of it. Silver would never say this, but the reason things became so difficult for the two of them is…their love for their father.

🦇 Sebek and Silver are a good combination, too.

⚔️ Such a good combination~~~

🦇 They’re complete opposites but they’re also surprisingly similar.

⚡️They’re both so honest.

🐉 They’re honest and serious and good kids, both of them.

⚡️ They never had the opportunity to show emotion like that until 7. They are both very quick to cry.

🐉 They’re so much alike.

⚡️I guess this is what happens when you’re raised together with someone. I think Silver is the older brother, looking from Sebek’s perspective. There is a moment where Sebek is scolded for the first time. In the moment, when I was reading, ⚔️’s portrayal really is angry. I even said it, “He finally scolded him for the first time.”

About Sebek

⚡️I think he empowers himself by speaking so loudly. Once he decides on doing something, he goes straight for it, true to his unique magic. With how strongly he sticks to his principles it’s like he could overcome any obstacle, like in that scene he had with Silver, but it was very cute that he actually loses there.

⚔️THAT WAS SO CUTE. That was a great part.

(⚔️ is literally yelling into his mic about how cute Sebek is)

⚡️The fact that he was able to get out the words he really wanted to say after he lost the fight shows that he does want to say what is on his mind but there is a wall that he has to break down, and then he can move forward. That is a moment where you can really understand Sebek-kun’s feelings. And once he lets his emotions out, they’re out w

🐉 He can’t put the lid back on. Everything spills out.

⚔️ (dying in the background)

⚡️talks about how much effort Sebek puts into everything and he reads so much and there is so much he wants people to know, which is why he is so loud.

🦇Sebek and Silver have both had a lot more lines recently. Doesn’t your voice get worn out during recordings?

⚡️It doesn’t! I do stretches and things before recordings. I figured out that I need that kind of physical exercise to prepare.

About Lilia

⚡️ Mom.

🐉 A cute mom.

⚡️There was a lot of gaps* in 7.

*I can’t figure out a good way to say this in English. It is the difference between what you expect and what something really is.

🐉 Too many gaps, it was so surprising.

🦇 I had heard nothing about any of that.

⚡️ I had an image of him as someone who is gentle and cute and a senpai who enjoys pranks and looks out for others…

🦇 He used to be completely different.

⚡️And there was egg-sama.

🐉 Egg-sama w

⚡️⚔️It’s not inaccurate.

🦇 I have done a lot of crying scenes before. When you first look at the script it hits you, and when you think about how you have to portray what you just read so that the people listening to your performance feel the same emotion—there is a pressure to that. I can’t be the only one crying. I have to make others cry.

⚔️ Something that 🦇-san said (during the special talk show that 🦇 and 🐉 did together last year talking about Book 7 just the two of them) that I really liked and wanted to ask about: You and Baul’s VA Koyasu-san (🐊) have been performing together a lot over the years. And you came back together for the first time in a while for this. You said that you didn’t want to give him the impression of “So this is what 🦇 is like these days.” So there was that pressure, you didn’t want to give an embarrassing performance in front of him, and I realized that you have a passionate spirit that you don’t really show, in my opinion—but it’s there! I got really excited about that.

🐉 I was surprised, too, that even 🦇-san has those same thoughts.

⚡️Same!

🦇 Of course I do. The pressure was intense. I am glad that we were able to record together, but…

And with the Chapter 13 release announcement they say they have permission to share this information:

🦇 and 🐉 were able to record together!

🐉 It was amazing. It was truly an amazing time for me.

🦇 It was our first time performing together.

Upcoming calendar review~ and done!

#twstseiyuu #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Kato Kazuki #Sebek Zigvolt #Ishiya Haruki #Lilia Vanrouge #Midorikawa Hikaru #Shimazaki Nobunaga #Silver

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zimmbzon · 2 hours ago

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I was in this job where there were lots of employees from different departments all sharing one big open plan office with a hot-desking situation. Well I struck up a friendship with Peter from Finance (full name: Peter from Finance but not actually an Accountant). We never worked together but we liked sitting next to each other. Peter from Finance was maybe 30 years older than me, had a very impressive broom moustache and always dressed in a professional button up shirt and trousers. He was also very quiet, polite, and quite shy and reserved. I am, on the other hand, one of those I-bring-the-fun kind of adhders. I have tattoos and wore jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers everyday.

We bonded over how annoyingly noisy some of the other department’s employees were and that Peter from Finance had definitely been to prison (he hadn’t) and that he had learnt to make shivs from toothbrushes whilst in prison (where’d he never been) and that if this particularly noisy department didn’t quiet their mouths soon he was going to show them all the other things he had learnt is prison (again this man had never seen the inside of a jail cell). Basically all of our conversations where absolute nonsense and lies generally instigated by him (but no one ever believed that).

Well my boy Peter from Finance had never had a bubble tea, so I explained the concept to him and promised to bring him one at 1pm sharp. I delivered the bubble tea to his desk but he was not there and I had to jump into a meeting myself.

I wrote a little post it note and left it beside the cup and straw with the instructions: “stab the bear in the face!”

I poked my head out of the meeting just in time to see Peter from Finance holding the cup in one hand and the straw in the other, contemplating the violence he was being asked to commit. He looked up at me, I solemnly nodded, his face changed from that of a confused questioning look to one determination (and a little bit of defiance) and he stabbed that mother fucker hard in the face!

We went out for bubble tea together shortly before I left the job (a big deal for our socially anxious lunchtime loner boy) and got double serves of bobas. We planned on getting actual lunch as well but Peter from Finance discovered with both delight and shock that after eating that many bobas he didn’t need lunch!

On my last day I discovered that his government name was also a lie because the damn man was and always had been a full certified actual accountant, but had for well over a year been letting me call him “Peter from Finance but not actually an Accountant”.!

I did at least do him a solid and change his documentation to “Peter from Finance but not actually an Accountant but ACTUALLY an Accountant” before I left.

i was drafting a post that said “a single boba tea can replace up to two meals if you are pure of heart” and the reason i didn’t post it is because as i was typing those words i got so dizzy i felt like i was being abducted by aliens

#boba tea #Zimmbs got stories

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enhani-ki · 2 days ago

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pacify her - reader x ni-ki

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, kind of sadistic (?), dacryphilia, etc.

you were sitting on the floor, hunched over your notebook as you tried to solve the last few problems of your homework. ni-ki sat beside you, watching with mild interest then tried to help you.

but that interest quickly faded when he realized he can't do it, "just use the calculator," he suggested, resting his chin on his knees.

"i don't need help."

"i want to understand how to solve this."

he scoffed, tilting his head at you in disbelief.

ni-ki sighed, getting really bored out of his mind. he doesn't understand why people make things so hard for themselves.

if there's already an easy way out, why not just take it?

you stayed focused until, finally, you set your pencil down with a satisfied sigh.

"you finished it?" ni-ki blinked surprised.

you turned to him with the brightest smile, giggling as you threw your arms around his neck. "yes, i told you i can do it!"

he smiled, letting you cling to him more, then pushed some loose strands of hair away from your face before leaning in to kiss you.

"are you really that smart?" he murmured against your lips.

you shook your head no, acting all modest and humble, but he wasn't buying it.

"okay, if you're that smart…” he leaned back slightly to watch your expression fully. "can you tell me what are you going to do after i die?"

your proud smile faded immediately. you shoved him away, moving to sit on the couch, and crossing your arms in irritation.

he followed you, leaning back over the cushions beside you. "come on," he said, "how long do you think it'll last before you move on?" he started kissing your arm, like what he always do when he wants to soften you up.

your brows knitted together. "ni-ki, that's not funny."

"i'm not trying to be funny." he laughed, tilting his head. "i'm just really curious."

you didn't answer, you just moved uncomfortably but that only encouraged him.

"i mean, you wouldn't stay single forever, right?" he said it so casually as if he was just talking about the weather. "you'd cry for a bit, sure, but then what?"

"oh i'm not even sure if you'll cry."

your stomach twisted.

"maybe you'd find someone new in, what, a year? six months? shit..." he looked up at you, "would it be sooner?"

you pressed your lips together, "can you not?" you said as you pulled your arm away, trying to put some space between him and you.

and you could move further, ni-ki grabbed your wrist and wrapped his around your waist, locking you in place.

"y/n..." he called out in your ear. "you're not answering me."

"because it's stupid!"

"it's not," he insisted, resting his chin on your shoulder. "i just wanna know, baby... would you miss me?"

you inhaled shakily. "of course i would..."

"would you cry?"

you swallowed hard, not answering.

his fingers traced your arm slowly, "you're already getting worked up, huh?"

your throat tightened.

"you're about to cry," he whispered, watching your expression closely.

your nose started to turn red and your lips quivered before curling downward into a sad pout.

ni-ki let out a soft chuckle, really in awe. "i'm not even dead, and you're already crying?"

a choked sob left your throat as you shove his chest, but your boyfriend didn't budge. he just watched you, amused, his eyes fixed on your tear-streaked face.

so you turned your face away, he started showering kisses to your head.

"you're so pretty when you're upset."

his lips trailed down your jaw, his hands were slipping under your skirt.

"ni-ki." you tried to warn, but he was already tilting your head back, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

and despite how annoyed and sad you were, you still folded.

ni-ki lifted your skirt slightly, his fingers trailed over the soft fabric of your panties before slowly sliding them down your legs. he left the skirt on, he thinks it looks sexy how it framed you perfectly.

he then pushed your legs up, keeping them pressed together instead of spreading them apart like he knew the restriction will make everything more intense and tighter.

he dragged his tongue slowly over your folds along with obscene slurping sounds while you twitch underneath him. ni-ki took his time, savoring every desperate little noises that escaped your lips.

you grabbed his hand from your waist, and guided it up to your breasts, he catches on instantly, squeezing rough and hard, the pressure making you whimper. it hurts but it somehow eased some of the frustration from the torturous pace he's keeping between your thighs.

"ni-ki, please… please, more-" your voice trembled, your fingers tangling in his hair as you urged him to do more.

but he only hummed against your pussy, ignoring your pleas as he licked slowly and teasingly, again.

your patience snapped. you reached down to try and touch yourself, very desperate for the relief he's withholding, but ni-ki swats your hand away, "uh-uh," he disapproved, "just wait."

his grip on your thighs tightened as he presses a soft smooches to your pussy.

the frustration overwhelmed you. "just fucking stop this!" your patience snapped again for the second time, you tried to break free from his grip, your whole body writhing beneath him.

then his mouth closed around you, sucking hard on the sensitive bud making you gasp and bite down on your lip in shock.

the pleasure threatened to fall apart in your lower abdomen, only for him to suddenly pull away again, leaving you stranded on the edge.

tears pricked your eyes, spilling over your cheeks, you hide your face in your hands.

you can't even get mad, it just hurts.

ni-ki lay down beside you and gently removed your hands off your face.

your lashes were clumping together, your lips were slightly trembling, cheeks warm and flushed, the tip of your nose was already red from crying.

breathtaking.

he leaned in, pressing kisses all over your face.

you tried to turn away but he catches your lower lip between his teeth, tugging gently while his hands move to unzip his pants.

his lips parted as he inserted his dick in your aching hole, slowly sinking into you, and stretching you open. his hand held the back of your head while the other held your leg in the air.

ni-ki's moaned right in front of your face then to your ear, and it turned you on even more.

he kept on giving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, now your whole face is wet because of him.

he caressed your cheek before tilting your chin up, his thumb pressed your lower lip until you open it for him. he didn't waste no time and slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss, just swallowing every sounds you make.

oh, fuck.

and even lying on your sides, he can stroke inside relentlessly. easily sliding in and out of you so fast, so deep you're going dumber and dumber.

ni-ki smirked as he watched you go crazy and completely wrecked from the pleasure he's giving you.

your walls fluttered around him, it's tightening, throbbing, but not consistently. it's like you're teasing him too, keeping him on the edge, and making him crave more.

he chuckled breathlessly, "you're so petty." then he started pounding even faster as he neared his climax.

"i'm close, where do i shoot this, baby? huh?"

"i want it all inside of me."

ni-ki groaned after hearing what you wanted, he pressed his forehead against yours as he lets himself go, spilling his cum deep inside your core.

some of it dripped down as he pulled out, so he used his fingers to push it all back inside of you.

he's not gonna let any of it go to waste.

"stop, making me, cry!" you said, sniffling before pinching his arm.

ni-ki flinched and smirked, "babe..." he said, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips before pressing a quick kiss. "you cry because you love me. it's natural."

then he held your panties "don't put these back on today," he said, before slipping them into his pocket.

"no, that's-"

"let's just see how it'll drip out of you every time you move."

ni-ki kissed you again, swallowing the little hiccuped sob that escapes your lips. then, as if he hasn't already ruined you enough, he whispers against your mouth...

"didn't i tell you that look so pretty when you cry?"

a/n: she got pacified with a big D (requested) jacquees - you

マスターリストm.list

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao

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feeder86 · 2 days ago

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Lust, Lies and Legacies

It was instant, that heart-thumping moment when Danny first set eyes on Nial’s new boyfriend. He’d heard about the guy several times from his housemate, alongside a detailed run-through of each of their dates so far. Hell, he’d even seen a couple of pictures on Nial’s cell phone, but nothing could have prepared him for that feeling when he first opened the door to him that one evening after work.

“You must be Danny?” the handsome man asked, standing at the door, waiting to come in. “I’m Ted; Nial’s…” “Yes!” Danny shot back, needing no explanation and immediately stepping back from the threshold to allow the man inside. So breathtakingly tall and naturally broad, Ted breezed by; the scent of his aftershave causing butterflies to flutter in Danny’s stomach. “You know that Nial won’t be back from work for another half an hour or so?” he asked the impossibly good-looking man standing in the hallway with him.

Ted shrugged. “I know,” he nodded. “Nial told me to come over anyway. He said you’d be here to let me in. I usually go to the gym after work but, half an hour isn’t really enough time to get stuck in.”

Danny made the man feel welcome, sitting him down in their lounge area and pouring him some coffee. Like his mother before him, Danny knew how to be hospitable to guests and soon had Ted talking all about himself. He heard about his family and education, his career and even his ex-boyfriends, of which there were surprisingly few. The boy had such kind eyes, Danny thought to himself, getting lost within them. Despite his imposing, giant, muscular build, he spoke so calmly and softly, like the genuinely nice guy he appeared to be.

“Sorry,” Ted chuckled, realising the time as Nial began unlocking the front door behind him. “I’ve just talked at you for the last thirty minutes. I’m not usually this chatty.” It was obvious that he felt quite relaxed in Danny’s company and, perhaps, even a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance to have a second mug of his special coffee.

For Danny, he sighed, realising that Nial would soon do what he did with all his boyfriends and sweep Ted away to his bedroom. He felt a pang of jealousy as he saw Nial embrace him and kiss him gently on the mouth. Nial was as handsome as they came, but it was obvious that Ted was far too sweet for him. There was an innocence and wholesomeness about the man that Danny had fallen for straight away. It broke his heart to imagine him getting mixed up with a guy like Nial.

“What did you think?” Nial asked a few hours later, after Ted had gone home. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? A proper hunk! He played football in college, y’know.”

Danny nodded. Ted’s impeccable physique had not evaded his attention. “He’s a really great guy,” he conceded.

“And he’ll fatten up a treat!” Nial continued, smirking as he saw the future mapped out in his head. “You should see how much he can eat!” he swooned. “If I just keep putting him off from going to the gym, I’ll have more than a few extra pounds on him in no time. He’s in that perfect sweet spot after finishing college last year and no longer playing football: the appetite of an athlete, without the exercise. Excess calories can pile up with ease!”

On paper, Danny and his housemate had relatively little in common. That was, apart from their shared appreciation of significantly larger guys. The theory of how Nial operated, seducing his lovers and then tweaking their diets to quietly fatten them up, had excited Danny at first. However, the reality had made him feel more than a little guilty. He’d moved in six months ago and witnessed Nial taking his ex from ‘chubby’ to really quite significantly overweight, before they ended things. And his ex had just been one of several innocent victims Nial had sunk his claws into over the years. Whatever this guy did with these boys, it apparently never failed to work.

“This’ll be the first time you’ll see me fattening a guy from scratch!” Nial grinned, clearly excited by the many weeks and months of work ahead. “You’re going to love it. Those first fifty pounds of blubber are always the sweetest!”

“I’m not sure Ted’s really the right sort of man for that,” Danny began nervously. “He’s so sweet. He doesn’t really deserve…”

Nial simply laughed. “The sweet ones are always the easiest prey!” he shot back. “You’ve seen him. He’s going to look so fucking hot when I push a proper gut out on him. Just imagine that handsome face framed by a delicious double chin!”

Danny mumbled nervously. There was so much he wanted to say to Nial, but given the fact that Nial’s family owned the house they shared, the balance of power didn’t always seem equal. More than once, Nial had threatened to throw him out after a relatively minor disagreement. Cheap rooms in this part of the city were incredibly rare. If he wanted to keep a roof over his head, it wouldn’t do to challenge Nial. And so, if Danny was going to protect Ted in the way he felt compelled to do, he would have to be smarter about it.

There wasn’t anything particularly smart about Danny’s plan. It had been sheer dumb luck that the massive container of diet pills his mother had given up on just so happened to be the exact same shape and size as the appetite enhancers he knew Nial used to ensure his lovers overate. Swapping them had been simple; his scheming unnoticed. However, it meant that when Ted would come over after his work, Danny could at least look him in the eye, knowing that he was trying to do some good for him.

“That looks incredible!” Ted gasped, seeing the immaculately decorated cake Danny had prepared for his sister’s engagement party that weekend. “I had no idea you were so talented!”

Danny blushed. He was quite pleased with how it had turned out, but the way Ted looked at him with such awe made him squirm with embarrassment. Surely Ted would be able to tell how quietly smitten he was by him just from the way he fell to pieces whenever the slightest bit of praise was sent his way. “It’s nothing,” he shrugged.

Ted leaned down and smelt the frosting. “It’s incredible!” he marvelled. “My mouth is literally watering! I’ve just had the most insane sweet tooth for weeks now.”

Danny looked down nervously. He knew how hard Nial had been pushing the sweet treats on Ted. It was no wonder that the guy was getting cravings for sugar. Yet there Ted stood, statuesque and unchanged; unknowingly benefitting from the diet pill’s effect to prevent fat absorption and speed up his youthful metabolism. The other morning, they’d both been embarrassed when Ted was caught strolling out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his lower half. Before that moment, Danny had been convinced that such tight and muscular six packs had only ever existed in the movies.

After Nial had arrived home, Danny returned downstairs to see that a giant slice had been cut out from the cake he had spent all day working on, now resting on a plate in Nial’s hand. Danny had gasped, open mouthed, looking angrily into Nial’s face.

“Relax! It’s just a cake!” Nial shot back irritably.”You can bake another one. I’m taking this one for Ted.”

A few seconds later, Ted came racing into the kitchen, having been presented with the cake slice by Nial and knowing exactly where it had come from. “I’m so sorry!” he called out. “I didn’t realise that Nial was going to cut a slice. I was only telling him how delicious it smelt!”

“It’s fine!” Danny replied calmly back, not wanting to upset the sweet guy. “I said Nial could cut into,” he lied, spotting Nial watching them from behind Ted’s back. “I forgot that one of my sister’s friends is gluten intolerant, so I knew I’d have to remake it.”

“You see, honey. It’s fine,” Nial cooed, rubbing his boyfriend’s large back. “Danny wants you to have that cake. So why don’t you open up and tell him what you think?”

Ted glanced down, picking the fork up from his plate. He looked to Danny one final time to ensure it really was okay, then cut and fed himself a giant section. “Mmm! That is just incredible!” he moaned. “It’s the best cake I’ve ever had!”

Danny really was delighted to hear him say that, even if it meant a long time baking again the next morning, before the party. Perhaps that was why he had always had a thing for chubbier guys in the first place: the idea of bringing them such pleasure, minus the guilt and resistance of a man who was more insistent on keeping in shape.

Victoriously, Nial smirked behind his lover. He really was good at this. So much so that, by the following morning, almost half of the entire cake had been completely consumed.

Arriving back from an all-you-can-eat banquet one evening, Nial was grinning from ear to ear as a bloated Ted was sitting, grumbling as he rubbed his swollen stomach in the living area. Pretty soon afterwards, he drifted off to sleep as Nial played one of his dull reality shows that he was well aware Ted couldn’t stand.

“Look!” Nial whispered as Danny came down for a glass of water, lifting Ted’s shirt up so that the rounded shape of the guy’s stomach could be seen. It was obvious how much the tall man must have eaten to push it out that far, almost to the limits of physics.

Danny nodded, not really knowing why Nial still insisted on showing off like he did. Danny had never encouraged his wicked tactics and had made it quite plain that he didn’t think it was fair. Nevertheless, the guy followed him into the kitchen, overcome with elation and needing to speak to someone.

“Danny, you should have seen him!” Nial marvelled. “It was absolutely grotesque how much he was eating! I was just bringing little dishes back and forth to the table and he mindlessly ate every last one of them. He’s obviously been trained to clear his plate his whole life. He can’t stand wasting food. He’s a proper pig!”

Danny winced at the word. He had never enjoyed hearing Nial use it to describe the man who was obviously so taken with him. “I’ve got my sister coming over tomorrow afternoon. Are you two going to be about?” he asked, trying to change the conversation quickly, just in case he ended up telling Nial what he really thought of his awful manners.

“You’ll have to meet your sister elsewhere,” Nial simply shot back. “It’s Sunday and I have a full day of overeating planned for Ted. I don’t want anyone getting in the way.”

“I thought Ted said you guys were off for a hike tomorrow morning?” Danny asked.

Nial chuckled at that. “I’ll be telling him that I have a migraine in the morning. We won’t be leaving the house.”

“But Ted was really looking forward to taking you up that trail,” Danny protested, always feeling nothing but sympathy for the guy. “It’s where they scattered his family dog’s ashes.”

“As if I want to spend my Sunday hearing stories about some dumb dead dog!!” Nial blasted. “I’ve got an appetite to build. Every day I can get him to eat more and more. Already, he can get down more than a man three times his size. Once I finally destroy the pig’s metabolism, I’m going to witness the most spectacular show on Earth!”

Two weeks later, and still determined to help Ted, Danny crept into Nial’s room to check on the large container he had piled high with diet pills. For over three months, oblivious Ted had been fed one after the other, helping him resist the otherwise inevitable weight gain that would have resulted from the vast quantities he was eating every day. Time and again Danny had witnessed the consumption of overwhelming portions and the decimation of everything Nial was getting in for his lover to consume. Yet, Ted still arrived each and every day looking like none of it was having even the slightest effect on him. With over half the diet pills still in the container, Danny topped it up only very slightly so as not to cause suspicion.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be long now until Nial changed his tactics. Then all of Danny’s work would be lost and Nial would at last have his own way. It was all so inevitable. Pretty soon, Ted was going to have to fend for himself.

“You don’t like Nial all that much, do you?” Ted asked one afternoon during the sweet thirty minutes they had alone together.

“What makes you say that?” Danny asked, surprised by Ted’s bluntness as the guy roamed around the kitchen hoovering up the many stashes of snacks Nial kept in for him.

“It’s just the way you’re so guarded with him,” Ted replied thoughtfully, finally stopping to look at him.

“Is that what Nial thinks?” Danny asked, nervous for both their sakes if it was true that Nial had realised that he didn’t really like him.

“Of course not,” Ted chuckled. “Nial thinks everyone loves him. It’s part of what drew me to him in the first place: that confidence. Now, though, I sometimes feel like he doesn’t even like me. Some days, he can be so short-tempered.”

Danny nodded sympathetically. He’d noticed it too. Nial’s complete failure with Ted over the last six months had made him more irritable than he had ever seen him before. In some ways, he could understand why. Given how many calories Ted was eating in a day and how little cardio he was getting, on paper, the guy should have been piling on the weight like crazy.

“I’ve actually been thinking about moving out,” Danny admitted, checking his watch and seeing that he still had at least fifteen minutes until he needed to worry about Nial getting home and overhearing them. “I’ve been saving so much these last few months, I now have more than enough to get somewhere by myself.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Ted asked, sensing Danny’s hesitancy. The man was so in-tune with Danny; so sensitive and astute. “Wait! You’re sticking around for my sake?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“No… I just…” Danny mumbled back, feeling suddenly like his every movement would give him away. “I just don’t feel comfortable leaving you here on your own with Nial,” he tried to reason.

“You really distrust him that much?” Ted asked now.

Danny exhaled, wondering how this conversation had gone so badly wrong so incredibly quickly. “Yeah,” he finally nodded, deciding that the truth was better than attempting a lie that Ted would immediately call him out on. “He’s not good enough for you. Not even the smallest bit. You’re so sweet and kind and thoughtful and calm. Any guy who had you should be…””

What happened next caught Danny off-guard more than any other moment in his life so far. The gorgeous Ted moved closer towards him, cupping Danny’s face in those large, masculine hands, before planting a kiss on his lips like no other Danny had ever experienced. It was followed by a rapid succession of others, more frantic, furious and passionate than the last.

Something dreadful and, at the same time, completely wonderfu,l had just happened

Danny had been the one to insist that Nial was not told. He happily relinquished his love as soon as his housemate got in, and disappeared upstairs. It was only later that he heard Nial complaining that Ted had finished with him.

“Good riddance!” Nial called out bitterly. “He couldn’t even put on a single pound in months!”

“Is that really all you care about?” Danny asked, feeling a little impatient at Nial’s one-dimensional complaints.

“Well, I was hardly with him for his scintillating conversation, was I?” Nial spat back, resurrecting his frequent complaints that he’d actually found Ted to be rather boring. “Six months I wasted on that guy… for nothing!”

Danny rolled his eyes and escaped upstairs. With Ted safely out of harm’s way, there was no need for him to hang around anymore. Already, he had found a place online that he liked the look of. Danny was moving out.

“I want to see you,” Ted had messaged Danny over the coming week. “I can’t believe how much I miss our time together each day.”

Danny had smiled broadly, hardly believing that he held such sweet words from Ted in his own hands. As much as he wanted to run straight into Ted’s arms, he knew it would be wiser and more dignified to hold back. Nial was as clever as they came. Any change in Danny’s routine and he would know that something was up. Then he’d unravel it all and make his life absolute hell, without a place to stay and no family in the city to help him out. And, the worst part was, he’d probably deserve it. Danny felt so much shame for what he had done: kissing Ted when he knew he was with someone else; ultimately causing their break-up. A little cooling-off period was definitely necessary if they truly were to make a go of things. It was best to put everything on ice for now and wait until his new apartment was ready to move into. Five more weeks, that was all. FIve more weeks and he would be free.

Nial hadn’t taken the news that he was moving out particularly well. Danny’s rent money helped to fund his disposable income and the news that his cash-flow was about to decrease had left him more than a little pissed off. As well as that, about a week after finishing with Ted, he’d started sleeping with a chubby guy, called James. The boy was nice enough, however Nial had been distraught to see that he’d actually started to drop a few pounds since they’d got together. He simply couldn’t understand it. Why, after all those years of success stories, had secretly fattening a guy become so difficult? As such, frustrated Nial became almost impossible to live with.

The two housemates weren’t really talking to each other the day Danny moved out. Nial went off to work without saying goodbye and returned home to an empty house, without so much as a forwarding address for his now former housemate. Meanwhile, Danny was grinning from ear to ear as he stroked his sparkling kitchen counter and sat himself down on the brand new couch that had arrived only an hour earlier. Tomorrow, Ted was coming over for the first time since that kiss. The buzz and excitement was almost too much to take. At long last, Danny felt like he was having an entirely fresh start.

“Hello there!” came the deep, alluringly sexy voice of Ted as he stood on the threshold, waiting to be invited in. He gazed at Danny, smiling sweetly, then stepped across to kiss him once more. “This has been the longest six weeks of my life!” he whispered, embracing him as the door swung shut behind them.

Danny felt so consumed and safe in that hug, completely swallowed up by the big man’s giant arms. Ted was so much shorter than he was. When he held him, Danny could feel his whole, small body starting to relax, allowing himself to be delicate and fragile once more; that hard exterior he had created to get through the last few weeks of living with Nial, crumbling away. They both breathed in and exhaled with relief, perhaps not realising how deep their affection for one another had been until they were parted like this.

Holding the tall man’s hand, Danny led Ted around the apartment, room by room. The sexy man made all the right noises but he wasn’t really listening. He seemed to simply enjoy being in Danny’s company again and listening to his voice. It was something a guy had never done with Danny before, allowing himself to show how smitten he was and abandoning the ego that most men seemed to have. At the sight of Danny’s new, cosy bedroom, Ted smiled happily and kissed him once more, clearly hoping that this would be where they would spend many a happy night, lying side by side.

Pretty soon they were sitting together on the new couch, kissing yet again. Yet something felt odd about it all. Up close like this, Ted’s face was somehow…different. Danny brushed it aside, thinking that he was imagining it all. However, once their hands started to roam more freely onto each other’s bodies, he could tell for certain that Ted was not quite the man he had once been. Slipping his hand down onto Ted’s torso, Danny could feel that the boy had quietly amassed quite a few extra pounds since their kiss, only six weeks ago. When he looked down, a slight paunch was pressing against the material of Ted’s t-shirt, quite startlingly obvious in this sitting position. He kept quiet and carried on, not wanting to make Ted at all self-conscious, acting like it wasn’t even there. Their kisses were so pleasurable anyway, nothing else mattered.

The pair chatted freely, enjoying not having to worry about anyone bursting in and spoiling their flow. This small, overpriced apartment could be their little piece of heaven; a refuge from everything outside; freedom from everyone who didn’t really matter. Ted got up and helped Danny with some of the remaining flat pack furniture that needed building, laughing as the pair of them couldn’t follow the simple instructions for gazing adoringly into the other’s eyes. How was it that Nial wasn’t completely besotted by this guy? There was such innocence behind those big eyes, his smile so broad and genuine. Even as a teenager, Danny had never felt anything so intense as this.

The pair of them had done well to control themselves up until that point. But as the light faded and Danny pulled out some romantic candles, the temptation to slip into the bedroom became all too much. With their clothes off, it was obvious how Ted had an almost complete absence of any stomach muscles whatsoever; the sides of his once tight waist now fluffy and slightly puffed out; his skin marked by the new, less flattering fit of his underwear. They made love, quite passionately, without any acknowledgement whatsoever of the rather sudden and dramatic weight gain Ted had undergone. Even as the big man thrusted, a fluttering of fresh fat was threatening to steal all of Danny’s attention.

Pleasure, joy and bliss. In that perfect hour, there were only the two of them left on the entire Earth. But as Ted got up to start getting dressed again, Danny had to wonder: just what had happened to him? How could everything Nial had been secretly trying to do to him over months and months, suddenly start happening the very moment that they broke up?

Over the course of the next few days, everything became abundantly clear to Danny. Box by box, carton by carton, Ted had destroyed almost all the meagre supplies in his new kitchen. The man was an eating machine, seeming to uphold the very bad habits that had been trained into him during his time with Nial. He’d head out to the store and return with a full tray of doughnuts that he would then stuff into himself very slowly over the following few hours, alternatively grazing on sweet and then savory snacks. Attempting to count the calories his new lover could consume in a day was near impossible. Danny had little comprehension of how much the guy was quietly eating until he went to the cupboards and noticed how bare they were. Within a further two weeks, the boy’s paunch had swollen up even more, only concealed now when Ted wore his large, warm winter jacket. A more generous bounce and flutter of the stomach began not long afterwards and it became more than apparent how much Ted’s underwear in particular were pinching him.

Although Danny hated to admit his own responsibility, he had to accept that everything that was happening now was entirely of his own making. It was the legacy of those damned diet pills. Whilst they had definitely worked well during the time Ted was taking them, the reality was that by masking the effect of all that overeating, they’d allowed Ted to build up an appetite that was no longer easily quashed. He had been permitted to overeat and indulge in a way that had not produced the slightest consequence for months and months; all whilst quietly enabled and encouraged by a lover who did not have his best interests at heart. Indeed, sometimes, it was really rather strikingly obvious that Ted had unknowingly dated a feeder. He could get aroused alarmingly quickly after a huge boost of sugar and he seemed to think it normal to take a can of whipped cream into the bedroom and squirt it onto Danny’s body before licking every last bit up.

Perhaps Nial had told him how manly and attractive his vast appetite was, for Ted would grin proudly after consuming a particularly large meal and appeared to enjoy the feeling of being so satisfied. He wanted Danny to start baking for him and didn’t seem to think twice about consuming an entire tray of fresh cookies before they had even had the chance to cool down. Despite being the enviable college football star only two years earlier, Ted had seemed to fall into a life of surprisingly lethargic gluttony. After months of speeding up his metabolism, Ted’s whole system had seemingly crashed and he piled on the pounds with almost alarming speed. Once the paunch had properly developed some shape to it, it seemed to become more and more extreme with each passing day. It was firm and shapely, morphing into love handles that wrapped around his middle.

Ted, who had never been an especially vain man, took it all in his stride. He had come to accept how different his life was now that he was out on his own and working every day. He had to hold down a job at City Hall and maintain his relationship, reasoning that he didn’t really have the time to devote to the gym, as he once would have done. As such, he’d have to understand that he’d be carrying a little more weight. And if Ted’s weight was no great deal to Danny, then why should he stress about it?

“Nial always used to say that happy folks always gain a few pounds when they’re in love.” Ted chuckled. He patted his stomach, which had recently become firmer and more tank-like than ever before. “I just happen to be very, very in love,” he teased, kissing Danny sweetly as they snuggled into the couch, ready to watch a movie.

The sex had always been amazing with Ted, but as he got heavier, his body became increasingly homely and cosy to snuggle up with. He was warm and padded, safe and relaxing. Even with the insane amount of money Danny was spending on food each week, he knew that he would never find anyone he would want to be with for the rest of his life, as he felt every single moment with Ted.

Danny didn’t know exactly when the threshold had been passed. There seemed to come a time when people were less accepting of Ted’s post-football career chunk, and more disparaging of the significant extra mass he was carrying all over his body. Thirty pounds people could cope with, but try adding sixty or more, and the overwhelming reaction of others was that of significant disapproval. Perhaps it was when Ted’s chest started to soften, away from the traditional pectoral muscles he had had for so many years.

Danny would take it surprisingly personally when he saw Ted’s friends treating him a little differently, or when his family poked fun. Some days, Ted’s mother could be deliberately frosty with Danny himself, blaming all his baking the increasing difficulties her son was having with his weight.

It appeared to frustrate people how relaxed Ted was about his chubbier physique. The guy was too practical for his own good. When his underwear or pants became too tight, he simply bought new ones. When people were unkind about his weight, he’d only shrug and roll his eyes. “What business is it of theirs?” he’d ask, quite rightly. Some days he did try to eat more sensibly, but he also didn’t lose any sleep on those other days when he had clearly overdone it. Again, Danny had to remind himself that he had no idea what Nial had quietly done during the time they had dated. For all he knew, the guy could have been streaming some hypnotic recording into Ted’s ears as he slept, reinforcing the need to overeat and helping him accept the inevitable changes that would occur as a result. Indeed, despite living with him for over a year, Nial’s actual methods still remained a complete mystery.

It seemed strange to admit, but it was easy to become blind to just how much Ted overate. The giant portions didn’t seem so extreme anymore and the casual snacking was just something Ted did. The guy was so big and tall; of course he was going to need to eat a lot more than most folks. Practically living with Danny now, the cupboards were filled with the things that the big man enjoyed and a large, ugly, reclining chair had appeared in front of the TV where Ted would park himself to play the games console that Nial had been responsible for getting him into.

“Are you really sure about Ted?” asked Danny’s mother one day, noting the way her son’s hard-earned, stylish apartment was beginning to evolve into a space that was clearly inhabited by a fat guy: the smell of stale cheese from the emptied pizza boxes still on the kitchen counter; the generous heap of sugary snacks piled up beside Ted’s chair. “I know he’s a lovely boy, but it’s quite obvious that he’s the type of person who is always going to struggle with his weight.”

Danny bristled with irritation. “Ted could weigh six hundred pounds and I’d still love him,” he answered defiantly.

His mother simply stared at the pile of fresh laundry that Danny was sorting as he tried to ignore her concerns: the new, wavy, withered waistband of Ted’s tortured underwear. “The problem is,” she sighed, “I think that’s exactly where he may end up.”

It had been almost a year since Danny had moved out of Nial’s place, yet the shadow of him loomed within his mind on a daily basis. Danny hated how he had such a wonderful relationship with Ted, yet was still having to keep this dreadful secret about everything that had really happened behind the scenes. If Danny began to explain even one small part of it all, it would be inevitable that his conscience would lead him on to detailing his own despicable part in ultimately crashing Ted’s metabolism; sending him on this journey of seemingly never-ending and remarkably rapid weight gain.

“You’ll never guess who I saw today!” Ted announced, getting in that evening and throwing off his tie.

Danny’s heart sank. He knew the day was coming and every muscle in his body tensed as he watched his lover form Nial’s name with his lips. “What did you say to him?” he asked nervously.

As was usual at this time, Ted went over to the cookie jar and began loading his hand with several treats to take back with him to his chair. “He was surprisingly chatty and friendly,” Ted beamed, pleased that they had all seemingly moved on from the hostility of that break-up.

“Did you tell him about us?” Danny asked, still hoping for a miracle.

“Yeah! And he was absolutely fine about it!” Ted nodded happily, trying to reassure his boyfriend. “He was really pleased for us. In fact, he wants to come over some time and drop off a box of your things he’s found after you moved out.”

Danny spotted the lie straight away. He had checked and double-checked every last inch of that place to ensure that absolutely nothing was left behind.“Did you give him my address?” he asked, trying to conceal the horror in his voice.

Ted nodded. “He said he’d misplaced it, so I wrote it down for him again. He seemed super keen to get back in touch with you.”

Danny nodded, smiling with his mouth despite the whirring of brain cells behind his eyes and the gentle sweat that was creeping over his body. Why had he allowed Ted to go into work in such a tight shirt today? The buttons were so stressed and tortured by the giant stomach, well underway in its construction. Of course such attire would make Ted stand out more in the crowds; it made people stare and look. Folks who may have casually walked by suddenly stopped and studied, recognising someone they used to know… Such a change would have ignited Nial’s curiosity to learn every last detail about what had happened to Ted since their break-up. Perhaps he would want him back? Maybe he thought Danny had done this to him? That this whole thing had been orchestrated since Day One?

Whatever the motives, the feeder would soon be back in all their lives. After all this time, Nial was about to find out everything.

It would have been an easy bet that Nial would arrive the very next morning, well aware that Danny would be working from home and that Ted would be out. Indeed, the guy had made it into the building without calling to be buzzed in, then knocked gently at the door, just like Mrs Lee across the hallway. Suddenly, there he was, right in front of Danny’s eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

“You know…” the guy began, strutting in without an invitation, “...people used to ask me why we were friends. You’re not interesting, particularly clever or funny…”

Danny sighed, feeling like he was only an observer in his own body; powerless to stop whatever move Nial was about to play.

“I told them!” Nial smirked. “I said to them, ‘Danny’s got a lot more about him than you realise!’ I warned them all that there was a devilish streak behind the mundane exterior. And I was absolutely right, wasn’t I?”

“What do you want, Nial?” Danny grunted, still holding the door open in the hope that he could get the guy out as soon as possible.

Nial laughed as he saw a pair of Ted’s pants draped over the back of one of the chairs. He picked them up and whistled in appreciation of their size. “”Fuck me! Look at these!” he laughed. “Looks like old Teddy-Boy has let himself go a bit! When I saw him yesterday, I could hardly believe my eyes. That stomach!” he laughed wickedly. “And the tits are beautiful by the way. I definitely need to congratulate you on those. You’ve clearly been working exceedingly hard to fatten him up.”

Danny quickly shut the door, not wanting anyone to overhear a single word. “I’m not like that!” he shot back. “I’m not like you. I never have been.”

“First of all, you stole my boyfriend from me. So don’t be playing the innocent card here!” Nial suddenly flared up; his patience evaporating. “Secondly, are you really trying to convince yourself that you’re not every bit as twisted as I am? I was thinking about it all night. I bet they hate you, don’t they? His whole family was so stuck up. I bet they despise you now you’ve done this to their little prince. He’s so tall, I bet he’s even heavier than he looks. What is he now? 350lbs? 360?”

Danny didn’t know how to reply. Yet in his silence was everything Nial needed.

“I could tell them all, you know. No one wants a feeder in the family. One phone call and this whole false world you’ve built together would come crashing down.”

“But I haven’t done anything!” Danny argued back, sensing his worst fears coming to life.

“Of course you have! Look at him! He’s a walking, talking human-pig!”

“Don’t call him that!” Danny growled.

“I’ll call him whatever the fuck I like,” Nial hit back defiantly. “He was mine long before you started to sink your claws into him. I’ll do it, y’know. I’ll tell his family everything. Ted is such a mommy’s boy, he’d end it with you the second his mother told him to.”

“Why would anyone believe a single nasty word that came out of your mouth?” Danny argued back, actually raising his voice a little, so palpable was his fury. For over a year he had had to live with the knowledge of the sordid deeds he had played his part in. It was a looming darkness that threatened to destroy the beautiful happiness that he in no way deserved.

“Because it wouldn’t be the words coming out of my mouth that they would be listening to,” Nial smirked back. He pulled out his cell phone and began scrolling back to his and Nial’s messages to each other from over two years ago, when they had first met. Back then, it had been a revelation to discover anyone else who liked their men with a little more weight on them. Danny remembered how captivated he had been by Nial at the time. It felt so freeing to be able to discuss his love of those chubbier physiques as Nial found pictures of fat guys online and sent them over for him to rate.

“He’s cute…” came the tinny recorded tones of Danny on the voice note, “...but he’d be even cuter with another fifty pounds on him.”

Nial grinned and scrolled to the next; another fat guy picture that needed rating.

“That belly is so damn hot! I just want to rub it and feed him doughnuts all through the night!” a long ago, naive Danny had said.

Triumphantly, Nial put his cell phone back in his pocket. He could have gone on for hours playing those voice notes. There would have been hundreds of them; each one more incriminating than the last.

“What do you want?” Danny sighed, knowing when he had been beaten.

Pleased to see Danny cooperating at last, Nial sat himself down and got comfortable. “I want to know how you did it. I put more effort into fattening Ted than anyone else I’ve ever dated. Then you came along and packed over one hundred pounds on him in just over a year.”

“But if I tell you, you’re just going to do it to other guys, and this whole cycle will just go on and on…”

Nial held up his hands and laughed wickedly. “You’ve got me there!” he nodded. “That is exactly what I want. I need to recreate whatever it is you’re doing with every single guy I sleep with.”

Despite his smug appearance, Nial was clearly aware that Danny was more than a little uncomfortable by the idea. Danny had to think fast. He knew that he couldn’t tell Nial about the diet pills, no matter what. He couldn’t sink to Nial’s level and pile on even more guilt than he already felt. Instead, he headed off to the bedroom and quickly scribbled down something that he hoped would get Nial off his back, if only for a short time.

“What’s this?” Nial grunted, presented with a single, folded piece of paper.

“It’s my shake recipe,” Danny explained, having been inspired by the dusty pair of Ted’s dumbbells that lay unused by the couch. “Ted trains with weights and each time he does, I feed him this fake protein shake. It floods his body with calories and builds the appetite like you won’t believe,” he lied.

Nial looked sceptically back at him. “What, and he just continues to drink them? Even with how fat he’s clearly gotten?”

“He trusts me,” Danny shrugged, knowing that his lies were deeply flawed. But what other choice did he have?

At that, Nial smirked and slipped the paper into his back pocket, seemingly satisfied. “It’s always the quiet ones you need to watch out for!” he chuckled, almost proudly at how Danny had turned out to be so seemingly cruel and wicked. “I’ll be keeping a keen eye on you from now on. If these shakes really work as you say they do, Ted is going to keep on getting fat as fuck.”

“He will,” Danny nodded, ready to say anything that would convince Nial that he didn’t need to stick around and press him for further details. “You’ll see. I’m not lying. This recipe really does work!”

Trying to refocus back on Danny’s work after Nial left was completely impossible. In his mind, Danny tried to play out every single scenario of what could happen next. He hadn’t seen the last of Nial; of that he was certain. It was all so frustrating! This sort of drama was not what he wanted in life and he cursed himself for every wrong turn he had ever taken that had brought him here.

When Ted got home, he headed straight over to the refrigerator and began his early snacking, grunting as he parked his increasingly hefty rear in his seat and turning on his games console.

“Dinner won’t be long,” Danny smiled, handing his man a cool beer. Despite all the pleasures he took in looking after Ted so well, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all a ticking time bomb, ready to explode the moment Nial decided to light the match.

Ted and Danny had been on vacation at the time of the proposal. Unbeknownst to Danny, Ted had arranged the whole thing: the amazing tour of the island, followed by a meal at the fanciest restaurant they’d ever been to, where Ted then got down on one knee and popped the question. Of course Dany had said yes straight away. There was no part of him that even questioned his desire to be with the oversized man forever.

Despite the many miles they had travelled to be there, so much of the trip had been consumed by long hours of passion in the bedroom. The food was so readily available and Ted didn’t seem to have the slightest hang up about his weight as he strutted about with his large gut jiggling as he went. He’d dive into the pool, not realising how much of an inelegant splash he created, quietly frustrating those lounging at the side.

Upon their return home, Ted’s pants failed to close and it was obvious that a massive spike in his weight had occurred in only two short weeks. Ted’s complete descent into obesity was cemented as his hips widened and his thighs rocked with fresh lard. The previous solidness of his swollen middle had been replaced by a layer that was significantly softer and plusher. Giant love handles draped over his belt buckle and his back had broadened further as the fat from his chest now carried very heavily under his arms. And those arms of his! So large and wide, pumped full of new softness. Danny felt so safe and secure within them.

“What are the chances of bumping into you two here?” came a voice that Danny had dreaded.

Nial suddenly sprang out at them as they strolled about at a venue they were considering for their wedding. Ted quietly huffed in disappointment. Their romantic day of visiting potential locations had been interrupted in the most unexpected way possible.

“I hear congratulations are in order?” Nial beamed, looking from one to the other. “We’d be delighted to host your wedding here. I’m sure I can offer you very generous rates.”

Both of them were shocked to see that Nial not only worked there, but was actually managing this prestigious venue these days. They awkwardly followed along as Ted’s ex led the way through the building, giving them the big sell. His butt was so tight and handsome in those dress pants; surely Ted must be admiring it with at least a little longing?

“I can just imagine you two having your first dance here; Ted looking all handsome in his suit,” Nial smiled playfully. Was he actually doing it? Was he actually flirting with Ted right in front of Danny?

Ted squirmed awkwardly, heading off to the restroom for a quick break from it all. There was no way on Earth they would be having their wedding here if this was where Nial now worked. This had been Ted’s choice to visit here. Or had it? Now that Danny thought about it, he didn’t really know how it was that the assistant manager had come to call him up in order to arrange this appointment in the first place.

“You absolute fucking liar!” Nial laughed the moment Ted was out of earshot; the pair of them watching the man’s wide rear as he disappeared away and turned sideways in order to get through one of the doors. “Look at him! There’s no way you did that with just those shakes. I saw the pictures of you two on that vacation. You turned my Ted into pure blubber!”

“He’s not yours!” Danny growled, unable to let that one go. “I don’t want to talk about any of this now,” He sighed impatiently. He’d spent all week looking forward to today; a step towards the future, not a prison ship sailing him back into his dubious, murky past.

“There’s barely even four hundred calories in that shake recipe you wrote down. I added it all up and knew straight away that it was a load of bullshit. You’re a liar, as well as a thief!”

“I am not!” Danny argued, turning to walk into the lounge area where it was too filled with listening ears for Nial to continue trying to press this type of conversation.

“You’ve got one week,” Nial simply stated, not even attempting to chase after Danny. “You tell me what you’re doingto make him so fucking fat, or I make sure everyone knows what a kinky little freak you really are.”

Danny didn’t sleep that night. He didn’t sleep the night after either. His mind was whirring with a panicked frenzy, trying to think about how he could escape this pincer grip he felt ensnared by.

Can we talk?” Danny asked his fiance, exhausted by so little sleep that Monday evening.

Ted smiled, patting his knee for Danny to sit with him, just as they usually did. However, this time, everything Danny had to say was far too serious to discuss whilst perching on Ted’s knee. He placed himself on the edge of the couch, clearly setting Ted’s nerves on edge as he spotted the fear and panic in his lover’s eyes. “Did Nial say something on Saturday?” he asked instinctively. “You’ve been so weird since we bumped into him.”

Danny rolled his eyes. If only it had been as simple as a lone snarky comment from a jealous former friend. If only Satruday had been a genuine, coincidental reunion between old housemates and lovers. But Nial was too calculating for that.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Ted pressed, seeing that Danny would need a little nudging along in this conversation. “Nial said something to you?”

Danny exhaled. He’d practised the wording all afternoon, yet it still didn’t sound right even as it passed through his lips. “Nial seems to have it in his head that your weight gain is my fault.”

Ted chuckled. “And there was me thinking how nice he was not to comment on how fat I’ve gotten since we dated.”

“Oh, he’s noticed alright!” Danny sighed. “He wants to tell your whole family that I’m some sort of feeder.”

Ted frowned; the unusual shift seemingly sucking all joy and humour out of the conversation. He stayed quiet, waiting for Danny to elaborate.

“There’s something that happened long ago that I’ve been keeping from you,” Danny began, feeling his heart beating fast. “When you hear about it, there’s no going back. It’ll ruin everything!”

Poor Ted. He was such a nice boy. Even now he seemed genuinely heartbroken to see Danny so upset. He reached out a hand across to him, wanting to hold his hand in his and comfort him.

Danny took the large palm, but forced himself to look Ted straight in the eye. “You see… I may not be a feeder, but… it is my error that you’re so overweight. It’s all completely my fault…”

Soon afterwards, Ted pulled his hand back. Bit by bit, the entire truth came out; every last sickening detail. He stared at Danny as if seeing him for the very first time; as if he didn’t really know him at all.

Danny was extremely low for the next couple of days and in no mood to see a perky-looking Nial grinning happily at him when he opened his door one early evening. The man was holding a giant cream-filled cake in a large card box and he strolled in once again without a word of invitation. “Is Fat Boy home yet?” he asked with surprising volume.

Danny simply sighed. He didn’t care about Nial’s games anymore and he wasn’t about to give the guy the pleasure of seeing him squirm. “If you’re referring to Ted, no; I don’t know what time he’ll be back,” he replied, checking his watch and seeing that Ted was probably staying out late again, just as he had done for the last couple of nights, without letting Danny know.

“Well, call him up!” Nial insisted. “I want to see his face when I tell him what I’ve got to say.”

Danny felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside of him. Couldn’t Nial see the bedsheets by the couch where Ted had been sleeping the last couple of nights? The guy had always been so consumed by himself, without a thought to the havok that he wreaked all around him; setting his large cake on the kitchen counter as if moving the next piece on his imaginary chess board. Watching him, Danny’s face contorted in frustration as he prepared to unleash his tongue, explaining to Nial exactly how fucked up all these lies had made everything. He took in a huge breath, ready to begin, when the door suddenly opened and in walked Ted, confused to see Nial standing in their living room.

“Ah, there he is!” Nial smiled, sliding over to the big man like a slithering snake. “Danny invited me over to discuss the extra discounts we could offer on your wedding,” he lied.

Behind Nial’s back, Danny simply shook his head. Letting Ted know that this was yet another one of the guy’s lies.

“That’s… “ Ted began sounding surprisingly calm, despite all the horrible things he had now learned about his ex. “We’re actually still undecided on the wedding.”

Feeling glum, Danny held it together in front of Nial. it wasn’t just the wedding that was in peril; his whole relationship felt like it was crumbling. However, with Nial there before them, Ted suddenly strutted over and kissed him sweetly on the head just as he always used to, until recently; perhaps trying to show some sort of united front with their mutual enemy.

“I’m guessing that you brought the cake?” Ted asked, staring down at the large cream-filled dessert that had been placed on the kitchen counter.

“I remembered that this was always your favorite!” Nial beamed back.

Ted nodded, dropping his hand into the box and ripping off a big section to eat there and then. “Absolutely!” he nodded. “I started going crazy for these sorts of treats when we were dating,” he agreed, speaking as he chewed. “That’s probably why I’m so enormous these days,” he pretended to joke, patting his fat tummy as if happy to poke fun at himself.

Inside, Danny squirmed, wondering where all this was possibly leading.

“That is some seriously good cake!,” Ted nodded, licking his fingers and happy to dive his hand back in for more.”

“Perhaps Danny will have to start making you some just like this?” Nial smirked, seeming pleased to see the fat man eating. “I remember he had some good baking skills back when we used to live together.”

“Oh, he does!” Ted chuckled. “Whatever I ask for, he whips up for me in no time.” He reached into the drawer, grabbing himself a fork before pulling out the entire cake to start attacking it alone; that whole, giant cake, without any intention of sharing. “I’m in very good hands.”

Nial looked to Danny, seemingly impressed. No man would start gorging on an entire cake, like Ted currently was, without some serious, sustained overfeeding in the past. The whole process seemed so effortless as well; forkful by forkful, the greedy man was consuming it all without even a glass of water to wash it down.

As he ate, Ted was listing off all the amazing bakes he enjoyed most that Danny made. He spoke about it all with such enthusiasm that his giant, tank-like stomach no longer seemed so misplaced on him. The man removed his work tie, leaned over the counter, making that large gut fall out from the bottom of his stretched shirt, and continued the assault as if it was too exhausting for him to stay entirely upright. The next time he did stand up tall, he brought with him the platter that the former cake had been sitting on, scraping the entirety of the messy remains straight into his gluttonous mouth.

“I’m going to leave you guys to it,” Ted announced afterwards. “I’ll do a couple of minutes of my weights and then head into the shower.” He then turned specifically to Danny. “Honey, do you mind making up one of my protein shakes for when I’ve finished?.”

At that moment, Danny realised exactly what this whole performance had all been about. Just like that, Ted was fixing all the problems that Danny had been facing for months now. Revenge was beneath them both. A war with Nial would quickly get very messy; especially if he was going to start involving Ted’s family. It would be far easier to simply convince the guy that everything Danny had told him about the fake protein shakes was absolutely true: that Danny really was a genuine feeder and nothing more.

“Sure. I’ll have that ready for you shortly,” Danny smiled back, accepting another sweet kiss on his head from the big man before he disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door.

“Well…” Nial breathed, clearly still in shock. “I never imagined in a million years that…”

“I don’t want you coming around here anymore,” Danny jumped in impatiently. With Ted’s exit, he had passed Danny the baton to deal with Nial once and for all; to prove himself. As such, it was not an opportunity that he had any intention of wasting.

Nial seemed taken aback by the assertiveness behind Danny’s voice.

“You’ve seen what you wanted to see. I’m not lying to you about anything. It’s time to go our separate ways. For good,” he stated without a hint of compromise.

“I actually quite enjoy seeing what a handsome chub you’re making. Ted is…”

“Mine,” Danny jumped in, unwilling to indulge Nial’s ramblings. “You had your chance and you squandered it. Jealousy is not a good look on you.”

“I’m not jealous!” Nial growled back, obviously wounded by the suggestion. “I have a whole load of future fatties I could play with whenever I want.”

“Like that hot little barman I saw you making eyes at in your work the other day?” Danny asked knowingly. “I wonder what he would have to say if I told him all the many, many tales I have about you. Shit like that spreads around a workplace like you wouldn’t believe.”

Nial stared him out for a second, before nodding. “Fine,” he spat, trying to portray an air of apathy. “I’ll leave you alone. But I’m not wrong about those protein shakes. You’d get much better results if you…”

“My results speak for themselves,” Danny hit back, opening the front door and pointing for the houseguest to leave. Nial looked as if he wanted to say something in response as he stepped through it, however the door was slammed so quickly and unceremoniously shut afterwards, there wasn’t a hope of stopping it.

Danny rested his head against the door. The blackmail was over. Yet, in its wake was a problem far worse than any other he had ever come across. It hadn’t been the diet pills that had angered Ted. Anyone could see that Danny had, in his own, slightly misguided way, been trying to help the situation. No, it had been the secrets that had disappointed Ted; the fact that this problem had been allowed to grow and fester for so long, until it had become a monster that threatened their whole relationship.

“I take it he’s gone?” came a soft voice as a shirtless Ted stepped out of the bedroom. “Problem solved?” he asked.

“He’s not coming back. No,” Danny replied, gratefully. “I’m sorry you had to eat an entire cake just to get me off the hook,” he tried to joke.

Ted smiled for the first time in days. “I actually quite enjoyed that part,” he chuckled, stepping closer. “You know what I’m like when it comes to cake.”

Danny nodded happily as Ted came close enough to embrace; that enormous, powerful, soft and cuddly body swallowing him up once more. Had he actually been forgiven?

“There is one good thing to come out of all of this,” Ted explained, stepping back slightly. “At least I know you do genuinely enjoy my body these days,” he laughed, grabbing at a huge wedge of his giant stomach.

“Oh…” Danny grinned, gazing at his man with complete awe and lust, “I absolutely do!” he nodded emphatically.

Ted smirked back, suddenly reaching down and sweeping Danny off his feet to hold him in his arms. “Good. Because now we’re getting married, this fat guy is going to be yours for life!” The pair kissed passionately, both relieved to have worked through everything. “And, to celebrate that fact, I’m going to take you into our bedroom and show you exactly what us big boys can do…” he whispered teasingly. “Then you can come out and cook me a nice, big supper, given that I’m going to be building up quite the appetite!”

“I think I can handle that!” Danny winked, kissing his huge, greedy lover once more. Then off they both went into the bedroom, closing that door firmly behind them.

#gayfeeder #gayfeedee #gainerfic #gainer story #gainerstory #gay feedee #gainer fic #gainer stories #gainer fiction #gainerstories

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yapperingtinaa · 2 days ago

Text

A box of Gemstones.

Your old Hunter's Watch.

And poor clueless Mephisto.

Three objects placed in the middle of the room, atop a wide red blanket. Three objects with each of its own meaning. And three objects awaiting to be chosen by your innocently curious one-year-old daughter.

"You do realize even if she picks one of these, it doesn't mean it'll eventually determine her future, no?" Sylus mused, eyeing you sitting on the floor across the room from where he sat, his gaze softened at the sight his baby daughter giggling and jumping excitedly in your lap. "Who knows this might end up jinxing us and our daughter became a future Evol Police instead."

"Oh shush you party-pooper." You jested playfully with an eye roll, cooing at your baby daughter sweetly, earning an adorable squeal from the toddler. "There's no harm in indulging in old traditions you know. Even the twins think so too."

As if on cue, both Luke and Kieran whooped in excitement from the living room couch. Both betting which their Mini Boss would choose amongst the three objects on the floor.

"Mini Boss might become a badass hunter like Boss Lady, I bet my life on it she'll pick the Hunter's Watch!"

"Nu-uh! Mini Boss is a baby prodigy! My gut tells me she'd be an awesome engineer by picking good ol' Mephie!"

"And the Gemstones?" Sylus questioned, glancing at the twins with raised eyebrows. "I'm guessing it'll mean she'll succeed my place in Onychinus?"

"Bingo!"

"Right on, Bossman!"

Sylus shook his head with an amused smile, shooting you a look that read 'you believe in this?'

You let out a hearty laugh, shrugging nonchalantly as you gave your baby daughter one last squeezing hug before slowly placing her in front of the three objects.

Despite his neutral expression, Sylus waited with bated breath as his daughter slowly inched forward towards the three objects. His little daughter's eyes shine with an innocent twinkle, her small body crawling forward and for a moment, time still around them.

This tradition, the Zhuazhou ceremony, it shouldn't be this nerve-wracking as Sylus should've expect. But he'd be lying if he wasn't both curious and scared for the future of his precious daughter.

There's no doubt Sylus will support his daughter through whatever she wants for as long as she grows up. Even if one day they might argue on certain value, beliefs and whatnot. But by God, Sylus prayed it would never have to take a turn for the worse where the father and daughter end up against one another.

The thought of that kind of future would filled him with nothing but pure dread.

Multiple surprise gasps pulled Sylus out of his muddle thoughts as he was just in time to see his little daughter pushing the three objects away (whereas a relieved Mephisto flew away in an instant) and crawled towards him.

"Pa! Pa!" His daughter beamed brightly, reaching her chubby arms out to her stunned father. Her giggles echoing through the sudden quiet atmosphere and Sylus instantly picked her up into his arms, his heart swelled with affection when his baby daughter nestled into the warmth of his hold.

Luke and Kieran didn't even have it in themselves to feel disappointed when their Mini Boss didn't pick their chosen items. The heartwarming sight of their fearsome leader becoming such a gentle soul around his daughter made them hold back their tears - It was one of those rare moments where they got to witness their Bossman look so vulnerable, so loving and so.. human.

And it was a moment both of them silently agreed not to ruin, especially for you as the twins watched you quietly tiptoed across the room to sit beside Sylus.

"Looks like our Little Dove can't choose a future without her papa in it." Sylus finally tore his gaze from his daughter at the sound of your voice just as you laid your head on his shoulder. You smiled softly up at the awestruck daze in Sylus's eyes, your finger playfully yet gently poked his cheek. "Now you have one less thing to worry about, my dear."

Sylus blinked in surprise, before letting out a small shaky chuckle. One arm holding his snuggling little daughter while the other arm wrapped around your waist - pulling both you and his daughter closer into his embrace.

"Yeah.. I suppose so." Sylus murmured quietly, a tender smile graced his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss on his little daughter's forehead and then another kiss on your cheek, laughing softly as two of his beloved treasures returned the gesture of the affection tenfold, happy laughter and cheers reverberated in the cozy living room.

Whatever the future may hold, for now, the present moment should be savored more than dwelling on uncertainty.

And at that moment for Sylus, it is what he needed the most.

#tinaa.blurbs!#sylus fluff #literally inspired by that one old story where the little kid choose her father amongst the item he placed in front of her sooo 🥹#went over the top with this one #but it's been brainrotting in my head for daaaaays #anyway soft girl dad Sylus everyone #girl dad Sylus supremacy #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #sylus x mc #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #lads fanfic #luke and kieran #crow family

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cloudyluun · 3 days ago

Text

Until You Stay | famous!harry

Summary: Beth Monroe is a sharp-tongued journalist looking for her big break. Harry Styles is a cocky, untouchable rockstar who doesn’t take well to being challenged. What starts as a battle of wills—sharp words and razor-edged tension—spirals into something darker, filthier, and impossible to walk away from. But when feelings get involved, when the masks slip, will they still be able to pretend it doesn’t mean anything?

A/N: This is a commissioned work of fiction based on Harry as a famous singer, I make no claims of knowing him personally in any way. But someone trusted me to bring their filthy, angsty dreams to life, and I may have gone just a little feral in the process. So enjoy the chaos, the tension, and, of course, Harry being an insufferable asshole.

Word Count: 7,7k

Warnings:

Explicit Smut (very detailed & filthy)

Rough Sex, Degradation, and Dom/Sub Dynamics

Jealous/Possessive Harry

Toxic Dynamics & Power Struggles

Strong Language & Dirty Talk

Angst & Emotional Turmoil

Paparazzi & Media Manipulation

Mentions of Alcohol & Self-Destructive Behavior

A Hard-Won Happy Ending

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Beth Monroe had always known she was meant for more than this.

Twenty-seven years old and already jaded, she was the kind of journalist who wanted to chase real stories—the ones that peeled back the glossy surface of the world and exposed what lay underneath. The truth. Not the watered-down, PR-approved version of it, but the raw, unfiltered mess of reality. That’s why she had spent years clawing her way through the ranks of journalism, determined to escape the suffocating confines of celebrity gossip and meaningless soundbites.

But the industry had other plans for her.

She had started with ambition, fresh out of college, ready to write the stories that mattered. But the jobs that paid? The ones that kept the rent covered and the lights on? Those were the ones that required clickbait headlines and shallow coverage of people who barely seemed real.

And so, Beth had become another faceless name in the sea of entertainment journalists, forced to write about scandals, red carpet outfits, and who's dating who. She’d learned how to craft engaging pieces that held just enough bite to make them feel substantial, but in the end, it was all just noise. A constant cycle of disposable stories about people whose lives would never be touched by the words she wrote.

That’s why this assignment felt like her last shot.

Her boss had made it clear—this was either going to be her big break or her last chance before she was permanently relegated to covering B-list divorces and influencer drama.

"We need something real, Beth," her editor, Jonathan Pierce, had told her, fingers tapping against his desk as he leveled her with that too-patient look. "Not just another shallow puff piece. Styles is at the peak of his career right now. People want to know who he is, not the version we see on stage, but the man underneath it all."

Beth had bit back the urge to roll her eyes.

Harry Styles.

Of course.

If there was one name that could guarantee headlines and clicks, it was his. He was a global phenomenon, a walking enigma, an untouchable icon. At thirty, he had long since outgrown his boyband past, solidifying himself as one of the most powerful and respected musicians in the industry. His concerts sold out within minutes. His albums dominated the charts. His face was plastered across billboards, magazines, and social media feeds worldwide.

And yet—he was also infamously private.

Beth had done her research. He gave interviews, sure, but they were carefully controlled, filled with charming deflections and rehearsed soundbites. The media loved him, but no one actually knew him.

Her job? To change that.

She had been granted exclusive access to his European tour, shadowing him across multiple countries, given rare, behind-the-scenes insight into the life of Harry Styles, the person.

Beth knew how this would go.

She would show up, ask the hard-hitting questions, and be met with infuriatingly smooth non-answers. He’d probably flash that boyish smirk, tilt his head just right, and make it impossible for anyone to push too hard. The public adored him for that.

But Beth?

She wasn’t here to adore him. She was here to unravel him.

Still, she wasn’t expecting her first glimpse of him to hit her like a gut punch.

The moment she stepped into that room, she knew.

He was going to be a problem.

The private event was held at an intimate venue in Paris; a low-lit, exclusive affair where only VIPs, industry elites, and carefully selected press members were allowed inside. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, leather seating, and the faint musk of whiskey poured into crystal glasses.

Beth walked in, blending into the sea of journalists and label executives, scanning the room for the man she had spent weeks researching.

And then she saw him.

Harry Styles did not belong to the real world.

There was something about the way he existed in a space, the way people naturally gravitated toward him—an effortless pull, an undeniable gravity.

He stood near the back of the room, dressed in an all-black ensemble that should have looked simple but instead made him look infuriatingly expensive. The tailored slacks. The silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough to hint at tattoos inked across golden skin. The loose, effortless curls.

But it wasn’t just his looks.

It was the way he carried himself like he was untouchable.

Beth watched as he laughed at something someone said, flashing that devastating grin that made cameras worship him. But it was the look in his eyes that caught her attention—sharp, assessing, distant, even as he smiled.

And then, as if sensing her stare, he turned.

Their gazes met.

A slow flicker of recognition crossed his face, though they had never met before. His green eyes scanned her, quick and unreadable.

And then, just as fast, he looked away.

Dismissive.

Beth felt heat rise to her throat.

Oh.

Oh, he was going to be a problem.

And he had no idea what was coming for him.

Beth didn’t look away first.

She wasn’t the type to shrink under scrutiny, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. But Harry? He barely spared her a full second before shifting his attention elsewhere, like she wasn’t worth a second glance.

The disinterest was strategic, she realized almost immediately. A controlled dismissal. The kind that kept people chasing, trying harder, falling over themselves for just an ounce of acknowledgment. She’d seen it before—men in power using silence as their weapon, turning the simple act of ignoring someone into an exercise of dominance.

It didn’t work on her.

So when she was finally ushered forward—her name murmured alongside a polite introduction—she didn’t bother offering her hand or plastering on a media-friendly smile. She met him with the same level of apathy he had thrown her way.

“Beth Monroe,” the event coordinator introduced. “She’s covering the European tour for Pulse magazine.”

Harry, who had just been charming some record executive’s wife with an easy smile and effortless conversation, didn’t even pretend to be interested. He gave the barest nod, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before lifting it to his lips.

“Journalist,” he mused, voice low, almost amused—but not in a way that invited conversation. More like he was tasting the word and finding it unappetizing.

Beth crossed her arms. "Is that a problem?"

That made him look at her properly.

Up close, she could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the sharp contrast between deliberate nonchalance and razor-sharp awareness. She knew the game well—he was observing, measuring, deciding exactly how much space she was allowed to take up.

And then, in the most unbothered, condescending way possible, he simply muttered, "No. Just predictable."

Beth’s lips parted, caught between shock and incredulous amusement.

"Predictable?" she echoed, lifting an eyebrow. "That’s a bit rich coming from a man whose entire brand is built on being the world’s most palatable rockstar."

There it was.

The shift.

The flicker of something in his gaze like she had managed to surprise him. Like maybe he wasn’t expecting her to push back.

It lasted half a second before he schooled his features, tipping his glass back and dismissing her completely.

Beth could feel the eyes on them. The silent tension in the room as the moment stretched between them. But Harry? He wasn’t interested. At least, not enough to entertain her further.

His voice was maddeningly even as he murmured, "Enjoy the party, Miss Monroe."

And just like that, he turned his back on her.

Beth spent the rest of the night watching. Not because she was enthralled—fuck no—but because she needed to understand him. If she was going to do this job right, she needed to know what made him tick, needed to peel back the carefully constructed layers he used to keep the world at arm’s length.

What she noticed was infuriating.

Harry was charming with everyone else. Effortlessly engaged, magnetic in a way that made people lean in, hang on his every word. He gave them just enough of himself—never too much, never too little. His persona was crafted with surgical precision.

But with her?

Nothing.

He ignored her. Not obviously, not rudely, but in a way that felt intentional. Every time she tried to break into a conversation, he sidestepped her. When she asked a question, he answered in vague, detached sentences.

And when she finally managed to pull him into a one-on-one exchange again, it ended just as quickly as the first.

“I’ve noticed you never really answer questions,” she said, arms crossed as she studied him from across the dimly lit bar area.

Harry didn’t look up from where he was stirring his drink with a lazy wrist. “And I’ve noticed journalists never stop asking them.”

Beth exhaled sharply through her nose. “Right. Because heaven forbid anyone learns something real about Harry Styles.”

That got his attention.

He set his glass down, leaning against the counter as his gaze slid over her slowly.

“You lot aren’t interested in ‘real.’” His voice was quiet, but firm. “You’re interested in a headline.”

Beth bristled. “And you’re interested in a narrative.”

Something shifted.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the weight of the conversation settling between them.

Then Harry smirked.

“Good luck with your story, Miss Monroe.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Beth clenched her jaw.

She wasn’t done with him yet.

Beth had dealt with difficult men before. Politicians who thought they were too powerful to be held accountable, executives who assumed her presence in a room meant she was someone’s assistant rather than the journalist they’d have to answer to. She had sharpened herself against condescension and arrogance, made a career out of standing her ground in rooms filled with people who wanted to dismiss her.

But Harry Styles?

He was a different breed of difficult.

For the next several weeks, Beth followed him across Europe, shadowing his tour with increasing frustration. She sat through press conferences where he charmed reporters into asking safe, meaningless questions—the kind that allowed him to give those clever, detached answers that never actually revealed anything.

She watched him interact with fans, saw the way he flipped the switch so effortlessly—one moment the distant, untouchable rockstar, the next, someone who could make a stadium of people feel like they mattered.

And yet, with her?

He remained a wall.

He made it a point to avoid her questions, brushing past them with an easy smirk and a raised eyebrow, like he found her attempts amusing.

“Beth, darling, you’re thinking too hard,” he had murmured once, lounging backstage after a show, still glistening with sweat from the stage lights. “Why don’t you just write the same piece everyone else does? You know, the whole ‘Harry Styles is mysterious but also terribly charming’ bit. Sells every time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t write fanfiction.”

He grinned. “Shame.”

And then there were the games.

Beth would show up for scheduled interview slots, only to be told that Harry was "unavailable." Sometimes it was because he was in a mood. Sometimes it was because he was “too busy” relaxing in his dressing room, scrolling through his phone, while she sat outside with her recorder untouched on her lap.

When she finally called him out on it, he didn’t even pretend to feel bad.

“Beth, love,” he drawled, voice dripping in mock sympathy, “you’re in my world now. Things don’t always run on schedule.”

Her patience cracked. “So you’re just wasting my time for fun?”

Harry leaned back in his seat, legs spread wide, fingers tapping lazily against the armrest. “Not for fun.” Then, after a beat, he smirked. “Though it is fun watching you get all worked up.”

She wanted to throw something at him.

The breaking point came after a particularly brutal argument.

It had been a long day—one of those rare occasions when Beth had actually gotten a few uninterrupted moments to ask real questions. She had pushed harder than usual, refusing to let him slide through with half-answers and smirks.

“Why do you do that?” she had asked, arms crossed as she watched him peel the rings off his fingers after soundcheck.

Harry flicked a glance up. “Do what?”

“Pretend you’re giving people something real when all you’re actually doing is controlling the narrative.”

The look he gave her was sharp, guarded. “That’s rich, coming from someone whose job is to spin a story.”

Beth exhaled through her nose. “You think this is easy for me? That I just write whatever sells? I’m not here to make you look good, Harry. I’m here to write the truth.”

A tense silence stretched between them.

And then, before she even saw him move, he was in front of her.

Too close.

Her breath caught.

She wasn’t sure if he had stepped forward or if she had unconsciously leaned in, but suddenly, there was no space between them. The air thickened, buzzing with something hot and electric.

His jaw flexed.

His hands curled into loose fists at his sides, as if he was holding something back.

Beth lifted her chin, refusing to shrink away.

The corner of his mouth twitched—not in amusement, not quite. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and slow, a quiet challenge.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, huh?”

Beth swallowed, throat tight. “I think you hate that you can’t intimidate me.”

Silence.

A heavy, suffocating pause.

For a second—just a second—she swore his gaze dropped to her mouth.

But neither of them moved.

Neither of them acted on it.

And later that night, when Beth was alone in her hotel room, staring at the ceiling—she realized she was still thinking about it.

She wondered if he was, too.

Beth liked to believe that she had control over herself—over her emotions, over the way her body reacted, over the frustrating, infuriating pull she felt every time Harry Styles so much as looked at her.

But control was hard to maintain when someone was constantly poking, prodding, pushing just to see where her breaking point was.

And Harry?

Harry was pushing.

Hard.

It happened in Milan.

The afterparty was in full swing—music thumping, bodies swaying, conversations weaving in and out of the dim, golden-lit space. Beth wasn’t drinking, but the atmosphere was intoxicating in itself, everyone high off the post-show adrenaline.

Harry had been watching her all night.

Not obviously, not in a way anyone else would notice, but she felt it. The flicker of his gaze when she moved through the crowd, the way his attention snagged whenever she threw her head back in laughter.

She ignored it.

She refused to let him get in her head.

Which was why, when another musician—Nate, a guitarist from one of the opening acts—struck up a conversation with her, Beth didn’t hesitate to let herself enjoy it.

He was easy to talk to, charming in a way that didn’t feel like a performance. And when he leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh—a real, unguarded laugh—she barely had time to register the shift in the air before Harry was there.

He didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t say anything.

He just stood there, nursing a drink, his stare cutting through the noise like a blade.

Beth felt it before she saw it—the shift in Nate’s posture, the way his fingers curled around the bottle in his hand.

“I’ll catch you later,” Nate murmured, voice a little too careful.

Beth blinked. “Wait, what?”

But he was already slipping away, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room.

And that was when she felt him.

The warmth of his presence behind her, the slow exhale against the shell of her ear.

“You like playing games, love?”

Beth closed her eyes.

Of course. Of course he had to do this.

She turned slowly, deliberately, only to find him watching her with a look she couldn’t quite place.

“Excuse me?” she said, tone light, though she could feel her pulse thrumming against her skin.

Harry tilted his head, mocking. “That was cute. The whole giggle and lean-in routine. Did you rehearse that?”

Beth’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to have a conversation without your approval?”

His jaw flexed. “Didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, exactly?”

He took a step closer.

Then another.

Beth refused to step back.

His voice dropped lower, dangerously smooth.

“I’m saying… you’ve been running your mouth for weeks. Acting like you don’t give a shit about me. But then—” He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “—then you go and pull that?”

She scoffed. “Pull what?”

Harry smiled. It wasn’t nice.

“You wanted me to see that.”

Beth’s stomach flipped.

She should have laughed in his face. Should have rolled her eyes, brushed past him, walked away.

But she didn’t.

Because there was something about the way he was looking at her.

Something thick and charged and dangerous.

His hands twitched at his sides, like he didn’t trust himself not to touch her.

Beth’s breath shook.

The music downstairs faded into a dull throb, the laughter and chatter dissolving into nothing. The party might as well have been on the other side of the world.

It was just them now.

Beth barely registered how it happened—one moment, she was in the thick of the afterparty, heat and voices pressing in on all sides. The next, the door clicked shut behind her. A soft, decisive sound.

She turned just in time to see Harry’s hand linger on the lock, fingers curling around the metal, twisting until it slid into place. A quiet snick.

Her pulse skittered.

Slowly, he turned back to her, gaze dark and unreadable.

Somehow, between one breath and the next, Beth’s back was already against the wall, cool brick pressing through the thin fabric of her dress. She could still feel the phantom warmth of Nate’s touch—light, fleeting—but it didn’t matter. Not when Harry was in front of her now. Not when his body was taut with something sharp, something dark. His eyes, usually lidded with lazy arrogance, were harder now. Narrowed. Burning.

His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was trying to control himself.

Then, low, rough, "You like playing games, love?"

A shiver ran down her spine.

She forced herself to lift her chin. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

His jaw twitched.

Slow. Measured. He reached out, running two fingers up her arm, featherlight but searing. Beth refused to react, refused to show him that he got under her skin.

His lips curled. "Laughing. Touching. Batting your lashes at him like you wanted him to take you right there in front of everyone."

That made her scoff. "Oh, fuck off—"

She barely got the words out before he was on her.

No warning. No hesitation.

One hand shot to her throat—not squeezing, just holding, firm enough to make her gasp as his body pressed flush against hers. His other hand planted itself beside her head, caging her in completely.

His mouth hovered just above hers, breath warm, uneven.

"You wanna push me, is that it?" he murmured, voice like gravel. "You wanna see what happens when I lose my patience?"

Her breath hitched.

It wasn’t fear curling in her stomach. It was something much worse.

She wanted this.

Needed it.

So she pushed him again, knowing it was reckless. "Maybe I do."

That was all it took.

Harry didn’t waste another second.

His grip tightened, and then he was kissing her—if it could even be called that. There was nothing soft about it. No buildup, no hesitation. It was a clash of teeth and tongues, a war between them.

His hand left her throat, moving down, down, over the thin fabric of her dress, gripping her waist so tightly it ached.

Beth’s nails raked down his arms, her own frustration spilling over. She wanted to hurt him. Make him feel this the way she did.

"Fuck—"

The word was ripped from her throat as he yanked her leg up, hitching it over his hip. The dress rode up instantly, baring her thigh, and then his hand was there, fingers digging into her skin, making her burn.

Desperate.

That was what this was.

It wasn’t love.

It wasn’t romance.

It was hunger.

It was starving.

His teeth scraped along her jaw, down her neck. He bit—not enough to leave marks, but enough to make her feel it.

“Look at you,” he rasped, dragging his mouth down her jaw. “Needy. Desperate. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Her fingers fisted in his hair. "Fuck you."

He laughed, breathless, dark.

"Say it," he pressed. "Say you want it."

Beth clenched her teeth. She hated him.

And yet.

"Say it."

She swallowed hard, nails still biting into his shoulders. "I want it."

He hummed in approval, pushing her harder against the wall. "Good girl."

Then he wrecked her.

There was no teasing. No gentle touch. He dragged her panties down and shoved her dress up with no regard, making her gasp as the cool air kissed her exposed skin. His fingers slid between her thighs, finding her soaked, and he smirked.

"Fuckin’ knew it," he muttered, lips brushing her ear. "You act like you don’t want this, but look at you."

She bit her lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound.

It didn’t last.

His fingers slipped inside her, rough, unrelenting, and the cry broke from her throat before she could stop it.

"That’s it," he murmured, pumping them hard and deep. "Don’t hold back now."

Her head tipped back against the wall, hands gripping his shoulders, nails biting through the fabric of his shirt. His thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing, teasing, pushing her closer and closer to the edge with every sharp movement.

"Thinkin’ about him now?" Harry taunted, voice low. "Bet you’re not."

She wasn’t.

She hated it, but she wasn’t.

All she could think about was Harry.

His fingers. His voice. The way he was taking what he wanted without a second thought.

Her whole body tensed, pleasure winding tight in her stomach.

And then he pulled away.

A whimper slipped out before she could stop it.

He grinned. "Not yet."

He undid his belt in a swift motion, shoved his jeans down just enough, and then he was lifting her completely, pressing her against the wall, spreading her open for him.

She barely had time to take a breath before he slammed into her.

"Fuck—"

She choked on a gasp, nails raking down his back as he filled her, stretched her in a way that made her legs shake.

There was no time to adjust.

No time to breathe.

He just fucked her.

Hard.

Desperate.

The wall scraped against her back with every sharp thrust, and she loved it.

His fingers bit into her thighs, holding her in place, making her take every inch, every punishing roll of his hips.

"You take me so fuckin’ well," he murmured, voice strained, lips dragging over her neck. "Like you need this."

She did.

God help her, she did.

She was close—so fucking close, and she knew he could feel it in the way she clenched around him, in the way her nails dug deeper, in the way her body arched.

"Say it," he ordered. "Say you’re mine."

Her breath stuttered.

He thrust harder. "Say it, Beth."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her body screaming for release.

And then she broke.

"I’m yours."

He groaned, deep and guttural, and that was all it took.

Pleasure crashed through her, leaving her shaking, wrecked, gasping as he kept going, drawing it out until she had nothing left to give.

Moments later, he followed, hips jerking, a rough growl spilling from his throat as he came deep inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Their breathing was heavy, erratic, mingling in the thick air between them.

Then, just like that, it was gone.

Harry pulled away, adjusted himself, ran a hand through his hair like nothing had happened.

Beth watched, still breathless, still reeling.

He met her eyes, his own dark, unreadable.

Then, with a smirk that made her stomach flip, he stepped back.

"See you around, love."

And then he was gone.

Leaving her wrecked, ruined, and still fucking wanting.

But worst of all?

She still wanted him.

She hated herself for it.

She hated him more.

Beth barely remembered leaving the party, barely registered the way the city lights blurred together in the back of her cab, the hum of Milan’s nightlife drowning out the noise in her head. Her body still felt him—his hands, his breath, the rough edge of his voice scraping against her skin.

It should have been enough.

It should have burned her out, smothered whatever slow, insidious pull had been building between them.

But it didn’t.

Because when she saw him again the next day, sitting in the green room of the arena, lounging like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t ruined her the night before—Beth realized something awful.

She wasn’t done with him yet.

Harry was different now.

Not in the way Beth had expected—not in the way most men got after a night like that.

There was no smugness, no knowing smirk, no self-satisfied arrogance that she could take a swing at.

Instead, he was… colder.

Distant. Detached. Like she was nothing more than a mild inconvenience, an insignificant blip on his radar.

He barely looked at her.

Didn’t acknowledge her when she walked into a room, didn’t spare her even a glance during soundcheck or press briefings.

And that should have been fine.

She should have been fine.

But the second she started talking to someone else—the second she so much as smiled in another man’s direction—Harry’s jaw would lock.

His shoulders would tense.

His fingers would curl around his drink, around his microphone, around anything to keep from doing something reckless.

Beth noticed.

And she made sure he knew it.

She leaned in closer when someone else made her laugh. Let her fingers linger just a little longer when she touched an arm. Tilted her head just right when she listened, knowing Harry was in the room, knowing he was watching even if he refused to look at her directly.

She wanted to prove a point.

If she was just a fuck, if she was nothing, then he shouldn’t care.

So why did he?

It happened in Paris.

Beth had been talking to a photographer, a harmless conversation, nothing she wasn’t allowed to do.

Harry had been across the room, pretending he didn’t give a shit.

Then suddenly, he wasn’t.

Suddenly, he was right there.

His hand closed around her wrist, fingers tight, his voice just low enough for only her to hear.

“Outside. Now.”

She blinked up at him, feigning innocence. “Excuse me?”

His grip didn’t loosen. “You heard me.”

For a second, she considered telling him to go to hell.

But she didn’t.

Because she wanted this too.

The door barely shut behind them before he was on her.

Teeth at her jaw, hands rough on her hips, shoving her against the brick wall of some dark alley behind the venue.

Beth gasped, but it wasn’t from shock.

She should have expected this.

She had wanted this.

“You’re a fucking brat,” Harry muttered against her skin, his voice thick with frustration, with heat, with something else she couldn’t name. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Beth grinned, sharp and mean. “What am I doing, Harry?”

His fingers tightened.

“You think you can get a reaction out of me?” His teeth scraped her jaw. “Think you can make me jealous?”

Her breath hitched.

“So you admit it?” she whispered. “You were jealous?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Because the way he touched her—rougher, filthier than before—told her everything she needed to know.

The first time had been about control. About proving a point.

This time?

This time, it was a need.

Desperate. Dirty. Addictive.

And neither of them could stop.

Every time they tried, they failed.

The silence never lasted. The distance never held.

Because the second they were in the same room again, the second their eyes locked across crowded spaces, it was already too late.

They had pulled each other under too many times to pretend they knew how to breathe without drowning.

Beth knew it was toxic.

Knew it in the way her hands trembled when she buttoned up her shirt in the dark, his warmth still clinging to her skin.

Knew it in the way Harry’s fingers curled into fists when he watched her leave, like he wanted to reach for her but refused to let himself.

Knew it in the way they never talked about it.

Because talking would make it real. Talking would force them to admit that it wasn’t just physical, wasn’t just convenience, wasn’t just a mistake they kept making over and over again.

But they didn’t stop.

Not when they should have.

Not even when the headlines started.

Not even when the whispers turned into full-blown rumors, twisting what they had into something uglier, something Beth couldn’t control.

She was losing pieces of herself to this, to him.

And Harry—Harry wasn’t losing anything.

Not his reputation. Not his career. Not his control.

She should have left before it reached this point—before it ripped through them like a wildfire, scorching everything in its path, leaving nothing but wreckage and ruin in its wake.

Before it bled into everything else.

Before it turned into this.

It happened in London, outside a sleek, high-end restaurant that reeked of old money and exclusivity—the kind of place Harry fit into effortlessly, where his name alone held weight, where he belonged.

Beth never had any interest in it. The glint of polished silverware, the hushed conversations over expensive wine, the way the air itself seemed thicker inside—like money had a scent, and it didn’t belong to people like her.

She hadn’t even wanted to come. Had told herself, promised herself, that she was done. That she wouldn’t let him do this to her again.

And yet, here she was.

The air outside was thick, muggy, summer pressing against her skin like a second layer, suffocating, clinging. A neon sign from across the street flickered, buzzing intermittently, painting the pavement in broken splashes of red light.

Harry stood a few steps away, pacing, hands raking through his already-messy curls. His jaw was locked, shoulders drawn tight, his frustration visible in the tense way he moved. He looked untouchable—towering, sharp, devastating in his black suit, the collar of his shirt slightly open like even it couldn’t handle the heat of the moment.

His eyes found hers—dark, searing, burning like embers about to catch.

“Are you seriously fucking mad at me for this?” His voice was low, taut, a thread stretched too thin, on the verge of snapping.

Beth folded her arms tightly across her chest, holding herself together. She could feel the anger, coiling hot in her stomach, winding through her like a slow, controlled burn. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

His lips pressed into a hard, thin line. “Enlighten me.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. He didn’t care. He never fucking cared.

“Your team,” she spat, voice shaking despite her best efforts, “just made me look like some desperate, attention-seeking—”

“—that’s not what happened.”

“Really?” She stepped closer, chin tilting up defiantly, her eyes searching his face for something—anything. A flicker of regret. Understanding. A crack in the cold, calculated exterior he was so good at wearing. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like they threw me under the fucking bus to save your ass.”

The photos had hit the tabloids that morning.

Beth Monroe, clinging to Harry Styles. Beth Monroe, picking a fight in public. Beth Monroe, the problem.

Headlines twisting the truth, reshaping the narrative, turning her into something she wasn’t. His PR team had done what they always did—spun the story, cleaned up the mess, protected the asset.

Beth had been collateral damage.

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze flicking away as if he couldn’t be bothered to deal with this. “Jesus, Beth, why do you care so much what people think?”

Her stomach twisted—not just at the words, but at how he said them.

Like it was nothing. Like she was nothing.

Like all of this—all the nights, all the touches, all the ways they’d clawed at each other, desperate and reckless—had meant absolutely fucking nothing to him.

And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe she had been fooling herself this entire time.

Something inside her snapped—something raw and fragile and past the point of saving.

“You know what?” She took a breath, forcing her voice to stay steady, forcing herself to hold his gaze even though it hurt. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

And before she could change her mind—before she could let him pull her back in—she turned around.

And for the first time, she didn’t look back.

It should have been a relief.

Should have felt like he had won.

But it didn’t.

Harry downed the rest of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass as he set it down with more force than necessary.

The neon lights of the club flickered above him, casting shadows along the crowded space. Smoke curled through the air, mixing with the thrum of bass vibrating through the floor, a heartbeat that wasn’t his. People surrounded him—laughter, touches, whispers—but none of it registered.

His third drink.

Or maybe his fourth.

He wasn’t keeping track. Didn’t need to.

Because Beth was gone.

And he should feel lighter. Should feel fucking free.

But instead, there was just this—this hollow, gnawing feeling in his chest, a slow rot that no amount of whiskey could burn away.

He had told himself it was just sex. That it was just a game.

A messy, reckless game they both played, fully aware of the rules.

So why the fuck was he still thinking about her?

Why did he still hear her voice—sharp and furious, echoing in his ears like an accusation he couldn’t shake?

I don’t. Not anymore.

Why did he still see her face when he closed his eyes—not the smirking, defiant expression she always wore when they fought, but the way she had looked at him that night—raw, open, hurt.

Why the fuck did that bother him?

Harry scoffed under his breath, shaking his head, reaching for another drink.

Fuck that.

She’d be back.

She always came back.

Wouldn’t she?

The weeks passed.

She didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t show up at any more venues.

And no matter how many women he took home—no matter how many soft lips and unfamiliar hands he let touch him—it was never the same.

Because none of them were her.

None of them made him feel alive the way she did when she pushed him, when she fought him, when she stood her ground and refused to give in.

And for the first time, Harry realized—

He had fucked up.

Not just in the way he always did—careless, reckless, breaking things without thinking about the consequences.

No, this was different.

This was real.

This was Beth.

And he had let her slip through his fingers like she was nothing.

Like she hadn’t changed him.

Like she hadn’t fucking ruined him.

It took him weeks. Too many weeks.

Weeks of sleepless nights, of bitter drinks that burned as they went down, of meaningless encounters with women who weren’t her.

Weeks of ignoring the pit in his stomach whenever he reached for his phone and saw her name missing from his notifications.

Weeks of denying—lying to himself—until he couldn’t anymore.

Until it became impossible to pretend that this wasn’t more.

That she wasn’t everything.

So, he found her.

No cameras. No PR team carefully crafting the narrative. No staged apology meant to keep his image intact.

Just him.

Beth stood in the doorway of her apartment, eyes wary, lips pressed together like she wasn’t sure if she should slam the door in his face or let him inside just to yell at him.

She was in sweats, hair tied back, looking so soft and real and heartbreakingly beautiful that Harry had to clench his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching for her.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You really have no concept of boundaries, do you?”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Would it help if I said I knocked first?”

Beth lifted a single, unimpressed brow.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

She sighed, exhaling heavily, fingers gripping the doorframe. “What do you want, Harry?”

Her voice was flat, tired—so fucking tired—and it hit him in the chest like a punch.

He did that.

He made her sound like that.

And maybe if she had been yelling, maybe if she had been angry, it would have been easier.

But this?

This quiet disappointment, this absence of fire, of fight—this was worse.

Because it meant she had already decided to let him go.

And he couldn’t have that.

He wouldn’t.

Harry swallowed, licking his lips, feeling the words crawl up his throat, unfamiliar and foreign and terrifying.

“I was afraid,” he admitted, voice rough, uneven. “You got too close.”

Beth’s gaze flickered, but she didn’t speak.

Didn’t stop him either.

“I didn’t—I don’t—” He let out a slow breath, shifting his weight. “You were supposed to be temporary, Beth.” His voice cracked on her name. “And I don’t want temporary anymore.”

Her eyes softened. Just a little.

But she didn’t let him off the hook.

Not yet.

She folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head. “So what? You came all this way just to tell me that?”

His jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

“And now you expect me to just—what? Forget everything? Pretend like you didn’t throw me to the wolves the second things got hard?”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t expect that.”

Beth exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment before she looked at him again, and fuck, he felt stripped bare under her gaze.

“I was falling for you,” she whispered, the words barely audible but lethal. “And you made me feel like I was nothing.”

His stomach dropped.

“I know,” he rasped. “And I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, Beth.”

She didn’t speak, but her fingers trembled where they curled around her sleeve.

Harry took a step closer.

Then another.

Until she was right there, close enough to touch, but he didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, he just let himself be seen—raw, vulnerable, desperate in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice low, uneven. “But I want to try. I want you.”

Beth swallowed hard, blinking quickly, like she was trying to hold something back.

“Say it again.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

Harry took a breath, steady and sure.

“I want you.”

Beth let out a shaky exhale, something breaking, fracturing between them—but this time, it wasn’t falling apart.

It was falling into place.

She didn’t answer.

Not with words.

But when she finally reached for him, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him down, letting him in—

He knew.

She wanted him too.

This isn’t like before.

It’s not fueled by resentment, not tangled in frustration or sharp-edged words.

It’s not an attempt to silence their own thoughts or to claim victory in an unwinnable battle.

This time, it’s different.

Because this time, they’re choosing each other.

And neither of them wants to pretend anymore.

It’s quiet.

Not the uneasy, tension-laced silence they used to share, but something softer. He’s brought her here—to his real place, not some impersonal hotel room or a shadowy corner where they could disappear without consequence.

It’s his space.

Dim lighting from the city outside filters through half-drawn blinds, painting warm, golden stripes across the floor. The air is thick, heavy with something unspoken, the echoes of every past moment clinging to the walls.

No noise from the outside world.

Just them.

And for the first time, that’s all they need.

They stand close but don’t touch—not yet.

It’s strange, this carefulness between them, this slow, deliberate restraint. For so long, everything between them has been about force, about taking, about dominance wrapped in lust.

But now—

His fingers reach for her, hesitant but certain, trailing the line of her jaw with an aching kind of reverence.

No roughness. No bruising grip.

Just a slow, featherlight touch, like he’s memorizing her, like he’s afraid to move too fast.

Beth’s breath stutters. She tilts her face into his touch, just barely, just enough to tell him that she wants this too.

When she opens her eyes, he’s already watching her.

Already waiting.

Already sure.

When he kisses her, it’s nothing like before.

Not an attempt to overpower, not a silent demand for control.

It’s soft.

Tentative, at first—like he’s rediscovering her, learning the shape of her lips, savoring her warmth. A slow slide of mouths, the quiet exhale of breath mingling between them.

And then—

The restraint fractures.

A low, desperate groan rumbles in his chest, and his hands move to her waist, pulling her closer, molding her against him. The kiss deepens, turns hungry, but it’s not about possession anymore.

It’s need.

It’s want.

It’s everything they’ve never allowed themselves to feel.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him down into her, and he lets her. Lets her take as much as she wants.

He doesn’t rush.

Doesn’t tear at her clothes like before, doesn’t drag fabric over her skin like it’s just another obstacle to get through.

He takes his time.

Fingers skimming her shoulders, down the length of her arms, over her ribs. He lingers, watching her, drinking her in like he’s seeing her for the first time.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice rough with something raw, something that sounds like awe.

Her breath catches.

She should feel exposed. Vulnerable.

But the heat in his gaze doesn’t make her feel bare.

It makes her feel wanted.

She reaches for him then, pulling at his shirt, sliding her hands over warm, firm skin, feeling the steady, grounding beat of his heart beneath her palms.

He lets her undress him too.

No rush. No urgency.

Just this.

Just them.

He takes his time.

Worships her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, exploring every inch like he’s memorizing her, like he never wants to forget the way she feels beneath him.

His fingers trace the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the softness of her inner thigh.

He doesn’t hurry.

Doesn’t just take.

He gives.

She fists the sheets when he drags his mouth lower, when he pauses to watch her reaction, when he smirks against her skin at the way she shifts, needy, impatient.

She doesn’t want to beg. Not this time.

But when his mouth finally touches her, warm and devastatingly slow—

She does.

He doesn’t rush her to the edge.

He builds it.

His mouth works her over with precision, savoring every shudder, every gasp, every quiet, breathless plea.

His hands hold her open, steadying her, grounding her, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

He watches her the entire time.

Doesn’t look away.

Not when she trembles.

Not when she cries out his name.

Not when she finally, finally falls apart beneath him.

He just holds her gaze, dark and unwavering, like he’s making damn sure she knows—

This means something.

When he finally slides into her, it’s different.

No rough, frantic pace. No bruising hands.

Just this.

Just the slow, deliberate push of his hips, deep and measured, drawing a gasp from her lips.

He stills for a moment, presses his forehead against hers, breathing her in, grounding himself in the feel of her.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, her nails dragging lightly over his skin.

Not clawing.

Not marking.

Just holding.

He moves then.

Not just fucking—making love.

Every slow thrust feels like a confession.

Every whispered “mine” against her lips feels like a promise.

And this time—

She doesn’t fight it.

She lets him have her.

And takes him in return.

No rush to leave.

No scramble for clothes.

No silence.

Just this.

Just them, tangled in sheets that smell like them, his arms heavy around her, his fingers tracing slow, mindless patterns against her back.

For the first time, he stays.

For the first time, she lets him.

There’s a pause. A deep, quiet moment where neither of them speaks.

Then—

“You’re mine now, aren’t you?”

His voice is quiet. Certain.

Beth doesn’t hesitate.

She shifts closer, presses her lips against his jaw, and breathes him in.

“Yeah, Harry.”

A slow smile tugs at his lips.

She watches it spread, watches the tension leave his body, watches the way he finally lets himself believe it.

“I am.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist:

@oscahpastry, @mema10, @angelbabyyy99, @iloveharrystyles04, @cinemharry, @drwho06, @donutsandpalmtrees, @panini, @mads3502; @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa, @one-sweet-gubler, @rizosrizos26, @ciriceimpera, @everyscarisahealingplace, @hello-heyhi, @sexymfharriet, @lizsogolden, @hannah9921, @chicabonitasblog, @huhidontknowstuff, @berrywoods1245, @jennovaaa, @angeldavis777, @prettygurl-2009, @almostcontentcreator, @run-for-the-hills, @maudie-duan, @dipmeinhoneyh, @harrrrystylesslut, @georgiarose94, @stylestarkey, @watarmelon212, @ hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east

#harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fiction #harry styles fan fic #cloudyluun #commission

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mylovescara · 1 day ago

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ʜɪꜱ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘰𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮♡

𝘤𝘸; 𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐!! 𝘨𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘰, 𝘴𝘶𝘣!𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘰

choso sat in front of you his huge bulge showing through his slacks his hands fidgeting with a bashful look on his face “I-i don't know what's wrong with me… I was just daydreaming a-and this happened...” he says referring to his very obvious bulge

You look at the way he is looking away and can immediately tell he was not just “daydreaming” but alas you can tell he hasn’t a clue why his cock is hard and leaking in his pants “It’s ok Choso I’ll help that’s why am here ok?” you wonder why you were his first choice to call for help, he probably knew this wasn’t a situation where he could call Yuji or anyone else but why you?

Choso’s eyes lighten up when you say you'll help him and he finally makes eye contact “… really?” you nod and start to move closer to him “Can I touch you choso? Let me help you feel better sweetie” he gives you a verbal confirmation and you lean in putting your hand over his clothed cock eliciting a gasp from him.

“t-this feels…different,” he says confused having never felt these feelings before not knowing why all he can think about is how pretty you would look undressed, he bites his lip as you unzip his pants and start slowly rubbing your hand up and down his cock the thin layer of his underwear making it feel as if there’s no barrier between your hand at all.

“G-God…d-don’t stop” you chuckle knowing you haven’t even done much yet and he’s already so worked up “Choso, can I take it out?” He nods his head frantically wanting nothing more then to feel your warm hands bare on him, as soon as you pull the band of his boxer down his hard erection springs out standing upwards at your attention.

You slowly start moving your hand up and down his cock causing more precum to spill from his redden tip “a-ah! fuck…y/n” he bites his lip and starts moving his hips subconsciously thrusting his cock in your hand “you getting close Choso?” He nods his head moans flying out his mouth not able to even realise all the sound he’s making.

“I-I feel like I’m about t-to explode..!” you start moving your hand faster and Choso can’t help but be restless, his body has never felt this kind of pleasure before and he doesn’t know how to handle it, it’s making him feel light-headed and confused at the same time the feeling of it being to overstimulating but not wanting it to stop.

“I-its g-gonna come out…!” choso not knowing what's about to happen throws his head back letting out a cacophony of moans as he shoots his cum all over your hand, his cock throbbing as he continues to cum for another 15 seconds painting your hand white going to show how bad he needed this.

you continue moving your hand letting him ride out the last couple seconds of his orgasm before he grabs your hand to stop it “p-please…t-to much” he can't help but have a submissive look on his face, drool spilling down the corner of his lips and tears brimming his eyes.

You smile and bring your clean hand up to his face stroking his cheek wiping the stray tears off his face “Choso did you enjoy it?” he nods slowly feeling embrassed once again as he avoids eye contact, you bring a kiss to his cheek and put his softening erection back in his pants for him.

“….thank you” he mumbles not knowing what to say to fucked out to think of words “if you ever need my help again don't hesitate ok?” he smiles slightly at your words knowing hell have to take you up on that offer.

y'all I'm so sorry for not posting for like 5 years sometimes I just icba 💔

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo #gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk smut #jjk x reader #choso x y/n #choso #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #choso x you #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #smut #inexperienced Choso

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stevieschrodinger · 2 days ago

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Part One Two

It’s dark. The window is still open, but the chillier air is kind of nice on Eddie’s flushed skin.

The clean bedding is nice too; Eddie tries to remember the last time he appreciated something as nice as clean sheets and draws a blank.

Probably when he still lived with Wayne. Probably before they made it big. Probably before the partying started.

Eddie picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He presses it.

Wayne doesn’t pick up. Eddie’s not surprised, not really.

He tries Chris; she doesn’t answer either.

Likewise Gareth.

He doesn't bother calling Jeff.

There’s no one else in his phone; Chrissy took it all away when Eddie couldn’t differentiate between a friend a dealer or a booty call.

Like the worst Marie Kondo ever, Chrissy had held up the hundreds of friends Eddie had in his phone, one by one, ‘does this spark joy?’

No. Sometimes sucked his dick, though.

Eddie has money though. He twirls his phone on his chest, flipping it from long edge to short. There’s always somewhere open. Flip. Flip. Flip.

Not like anyone's answering him right now anyway. They’ve just left him here. With fucking Steve. It’s just one time anyway, he wouldn’t get away with it more than once. Chrissy would put him on proper lock down if she found out. Probably shove him back in the clinic.

So...just once.

One last go. And then he’d quit for sure. He hasn’t touched it for months, so he’s pretty much proved he can do it, anyway.

Eddie gets dressed. Finds cash balled up in random places.

Eddie stands in the doorway. Look up at the stars and then across the lawn at the security gates. He hasn’t had so much as a cigarette in nearly half a year. This is fine.

“Where you going, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs. Fucking busted. Still, “no where you need to worry about.”

“Uh hu.”

“Look, I’m not on house arrest okay? I can go out, I’m a grown fucking man.”

“You totally are. You want to go out, you go for it. No skin off my nose.”

Eddie whirls, shocked, “what the fuck? Aren’t you supposed to try and stop me from doing dumb shit?”

Steve raises the eyebrow, “so you admit it’s dumb?” He looks sleep rumpled, wearing sweats and a white tee shirt.

Walked right into that one. “You’re dumb.”

The face again. The totally schooled features that are utterly professional and give absolutely nothing away and yet...somehow...he’s laughing at Eddie. Eddie can feel it.

“So you go out,” Steve saunters over, stands next to Eddie, bare toes curling over the doorstep, “you score or drink or do whatever it is you’re aiming to do. Then what?”

“Then what,” Eddie mimics, all bitchy, “I’ll come home, and I’ll sober up, and it won’t change a fucking thing,” Eddie bites out.

“You think? You’ve had sober spells before, is that how it’s gone in the past?”

Eddie takes a deep breathe, because no, no that is not how it’s fucking gone in the past, “this time is different.”

“Is it?” Steve asks, completely fucking nonchalant, “how so?”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to punch someone so bad in all his life. Imagines it viscerally, Steve's fucking head cracking on the door frame while he slumps to the floor in a bloody heap.

Eddie does not do that, obviously.

“Look, I’ll come home, we don’t do anything about it, you still get paid, sound good?”

“I get paid either way,” Steve shrugs one shoulder, because he’s a cunt. “This is how a lot of addicts die, did you know that?”

“What?” Eddie asks, startled by the left turn.

“Yeah, get out of rehab, think their tolerance is still the same, get back on it…” he doesn’t bother to finish.

“That won’t happen to me.”

“Oh yeah, right. Of course. Because you’re Eddie Munson, sorry, sorry, forgot a second there.”

Eddie takes two thumping angry steps into the yard and just...just fucking screams at the sky. Just...roars at nothing. This is shit. It’s so shit. Everything is shit. And Eddie nearly fucking died last time and there’s no escaping that fact. There’s no help. There’s no point to any of this. There’s just pain and fucking misery and something clawing at Eddie’s insides trying to get out.

He roars until he’s hoarse. Until he can’t any more. Until his chin is wet with spit and he feels week and rung out.

He sits on his ass on the cold, dewy lawn.

Steve is still standing in the doorway, he doesn’t look like he’s moved at all. If he’s at all bothered by Eddie’s little meltdown, he isn’t showing it.

“Why did you want to go?” Steve asks finally, "did something change?"

Eddie shrugs, he’s got nothing, not really. No real reason past just wanting to get fucked up. Because it feels good. Because he likes it.

“Okay, what’s worth staying for?”

Eddie makes a dismissive ‘pfffft’, made croaky by his fucked out voice.

“They always say you need to do these things for yourself,” Eddie glares at Steve, because that's some dumb shit right there. Always had it in therapy though. Self worth. Mindfulness. Living in the moment and being proud of what you’ve already achieved and every journey starts with a single step and all that other bull shit they try and feed you. “I know. I agree. When you...feel like you’re nothing, you’re not worth any effort. It’s the hardest time. So pick someone else. Who can you do it for?”

“They don’t care,” Eddie croaks, “they didn’t answer,” he pulls his phone out, flips it onto the grass.

“Who?”

“Chris. Wayne.”

“Okay, give me a good reason why Wayne didn’t answer? That’s your uncle, right?”

“Yeah he...he could be at work,” Eddie admits quietly. Eddie’s given Wayne money. Well, practically forced it on him. Set him up with a nice place; or at least as nice as he could talk Wayne into. Wayne doesn’t believe in free loading though. Eddie’s convinced him to do less hours, but he still works nights two or three times a week. Claims it’s ninety percent of his social life, or some shit like that.

“Okay, and Chris?”

Eddie shrugs, embarrassment over his outburst making him petulant now.

“Eddie, what time is it where Chris is, right now?”

Eddie sighs up at the stars. It’s the middle of the fucking night, “late. Early. I guess.”

“Okay. So they’re not ignoring you, they’re just living their lives like normal human beings. Come on, get up, your ass is gonna be wet.”

“And do what?” Eddie snaps, “what’s the fucking point.” It’s not a question.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“It was a tough time, you know? Like, life sucks hard sometimes. Music helps. My favorite is The Wilds, you know? You heard that one?” The interviewer mumbles something indistinguishable, “it’s kind of...like the bit about the shining sea, you know? How like, it’s so beautiful, but it’s fucking hard to sail on. Or like how the mountains are so beautiful, but if you go up there alone, you’re gonna’ die, right? So I think...like how insignificant, and meaningless my life is, in like, the grand scheme of things, but like...that makes what you do even more important, right? Like, it means more, when you choose to be...I dunno,” the kid with a million piercings shrugs, “like just be good to each other, you know?”

“That’s not even remotely what that song is about,” Eddie mumbles at the laptop monitor.

Behind him, Steve snorts a laugh, “well that kid thinks it is.”

Another kid, more makeup than the whole of Kiss slathered on her face, “I just think it has meaning, you know?” The interviewer mumbles something again, “oh my favorite?” A lip bitten in thought, she looks at the sky for inspiration, it’s sunset, Eddie figures. Lots of similarly dressed kids in the background. Takes him a second to realize this was filmed outside of a gig, or something like that. “It’s hard to pick, but if I gotta’, it’s definitely Double Down. Those lyrics are just...Eddie Munson is just...he’s a fucking genius, you know?” She frowns, “but also really fucking dumb soemtimes, I hope he’s okay.”

“I didn’t even write that one. Jeff wrote most of that. On napkins, I think. I just...worked it together.”

Another kid, saying how important Corroded Coffin are; how they helped this kid through hard times. Honestly it’s a difficult watch, Eddie has no fucking clue where Steve even found this, and when Eddie’s phone rings he jumps on it, glad of an excuse to slap the screen of the laptop closed.

“Hi, Eddie! You called, sorry it’s early I got up to go for a run-”

“No. No, it’s fine, I...I shouldn’t have called you so late. Early. You were probably sleeping.”

“That’s okay, of course it’s okay, it’s nice you called me,” she snickers, “you never call me.”

That’s true, and Eddie feels bad. It’s always Chrissy chasing after Eddie. Trying to keep a lid on him...trying to keep him safe. He was always the one dodging her. “Yeah, sorry…” Eddie gets up so he can walk away from Steve, tail between his legs he slinks into the hall, he vows, “I’ll try and do better.”

“Good, how are you feeling? Hows your rut?”

Eddie is not fucking admitting that he just had a breakdown and nearly fucked it all up in the middle of the night. No fucking way is he admitting that, “yeah...yeah, just...couldn’t sleep, you know? I guess the rut...still going. Feels weird.”

Eddie can hear Chris moving around, figures she has him on speaker or something, “uh hu, that’s because you haven’t cycled a proper rut in like, four years honey, these things take time to settle. Is Steve doing okay? You’re not being a cunt to him are you?”

“Well I’ve only thought about punching him,” something jogs in Eddie’s mind, “Chrissy, what happened to the cleaning lady?”

“Oh...we did talk about it honey but you weren't really...taking it in, I don’t think-”

“I was fucked up.”

“Yeah...but she…”

“Just say it.”

“The...you know, the vomit. You were constantly trashing the place. She was worried she was...well she was mostly scared she was going to walk in one day and find your body.”

“Oh.” Eddie slumps down on the bottom step, “that sucks. I liked her.”

“Don’t worry, her final pay was incredible. She got a really impressive bunch of flowers.”

“Oh...well. Thank you. For sorting that.” Eddie’s eyes feel wet. His lip wobbles a little, but he holds it in. He’s got no right to guilt about that, not now. “The place looks okay though, I think Steve’s been cleaning some.”

“Yeah, probably, he seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, but the first tear breaks free and he knows he can’t hide it much longer, “go on your run.”

“Okay, speak later?”

“Yeah, course.”

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s so great to hear you sounding more like yourself, I missed you so much.”

Eddie hangs up, draws his knees up to his chest, the material of his sweats already darkened with tears.

#steddie #pre steddie #rock star eddie munson #drug abuse #alcohlism #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #ficlet #chrissy cunningham #eddie and chrissy #alpha eddie munson #beta steve harrington

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ihavenoideahowtodream · 3 days ago

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if you are seeing something telling you how to get rid of something that developed slowly with your aging and generally would take more than 15 mins to reasonably manage in your daily hygiene routine esp if the thing they are telling you will immediately fix your wrinkles, scars, cellulite, yellowed teeth, etc cost more than 20 bucks (usd for me at least) then the only thing ugly in that ad are their words.

You dont go wrinkle free at ~ 35+ cause youve been playing in the sun for decades. Gray hairs happen in your 20s and on. Cellulite is a result of normal body fat retention. It is good you have it too because if you get sick and/or have eating limitations or irritations then your body will start taking nutrients from your muscles and organs. That Spare Tire that you have that means you get jeans two sizes larger than this ad is telling you should have is good to have cause sometimes you get sick and it will take longer for your organs to start shutting down if you are loosing weight from your love handles than the muscles in your legs making it harder to walk. your legs will still get weaker but not be actively depleted so quickly.

white teeth also dont exist. it is something tooth paste companies have come up with to sell you more expensive toothpaste and while for the most part it doesnt damage your teeth it is more abrasive than non whitening toothpaste so if you have bad teeth of some kind or have a diet that can soften your enamel already like regular pop consumption it can damage your teeth more. understandably, there is a sliding scale of teeth yellowing for concern, if your teeth look like a school bus then discussing with your dentist about if you are experiencing gum disease is advisable but the damn tissue test is the same arbitrary scale where there are a million was to be a person incorrectly but theres no ideal person that isnt steeped in classism at best and racism at worst. And if your school bus yellow teeth are declared healthy by your dentist then you dont need to worry about them any more. and just because your teeth are as white as the us congress wont always mean you teeth are healthy either. I have a friend who is neurotic about brushing their teeth and have been for the full decade ive known them who was told they have reversible but mild gum disease. contrasted to my adhd ass who brushed my teeth once a week maybe till i finally put my toothbrush in my shower 6 mo ago. I had a singular mild cavity when i went to the dentist for the first time in 15 years last year.

the concept also that you have to pay a bunch of money otc to be "beautiful" is an obvious indicator of scams. Olay's anti wrinkle creams they sell for upwards of $50 (usd) and other brands being almost $200? thats just evil. wrinkles are fine. and we dont have to call them beautiful, or sexy, or signs of wisdom. cause they may or may not be for what ever reason. That kind of language is still commodifying an individual's body as the indicator of their moral worth. Like i genuinely hate the 2025 US president and have always found the jokes about his orange skin amusing. however, the fact that americans first and primary dig at a person they dislike, for what ever reason, is their skin color that whether manufactured or not it is unchangeable by the viewer and by the viewed at the time of the insult displays our idea that association of physical features and moral depravity can walk hand in hand.

the most basic levels of presentability are quite simple: keep your hair tagle free to the limitations of your hair type and use protective hair styles and wraps if it makes sense for you. dont have obvious smudges of dirt or such on face, hands, and clothing. general anti odor hygiene like a form of deodorant or a mint after spicy food. keep nails trimmed and clean. and have clothing on that you obviously feel comfort in- for some this is sweat pants and a hoodie with crocks, others a cocktail dress or suit and leather dress shoes, or like myself tight pants for compression pain management and coordinated colors for my own visual comfort when looking in a mirror and boots with ankle support that are at least mid calf high so i dont have to bend as far to tie them assuming they arent slip on. and the clothes also lacking smells like a cat pee odor.

and like this is baseline presentability for going out with friends, interacting with someone professionally, going on a date, or some other equivalent.

Make up (including foux and uv tanning), nail polish, hair dying and time consuming at home styling, impractical shoes, jewelry, designer clothes and accessories, and other things marketed as necessary for you to be the best and most attractive version of who you are exist for fun and should be enjoyed as games. however, participation in these things should be respected as much as the general presentability practices.

someone in designer clothes with styled naturally voluminous curly hair with makeup that had a bill with 4 digits on the receipt and someone who looks like they woke up in a ditch after a three day bachelor party they only remember the first 20 mins of have the exact same value and deserve the exact same respect no matter where they are.

beauty ads have the same message across the board:

you must buy your value and we decide if you bought it correctly.

their determination is always gonna be that you did not buy your value correctly so buy this other thing in the hopes we decide youve bought value correctly. and they never say you bought your value to their satisfaction so that you keep buying from them

beauty ads will kill you if you let them.

companies make billions from you thinking you're ugly btw. only ugly thing is their bottom line. log out of tiktok right now.

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brawberryz · 2 days ago

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touch me i scream

Batfam Yan! × Elizabeth Afton!Reader

《Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error / I don't know if this could be considered "neglected" reader since the negligence is only on Bruce's part, so maybe)? / FNAF AU!

Tw: child neglect, abuse, child murder, murder, maltreatment, yandere behaviors , self-harm, brief mention of suicide, isolation, knife use, toxic relationships, domestic violence, brief mention of drugs, psychological abuse, manipulation, dark themes

Weird

That's how you could consider your life, it was quite strange and boring, you always spent your time at home

Summer vacation had started and all you could do was stay home

You didn't have any friends, you only had your brothers

Your life was quite lonely, the only one you trusted too much was Damian

But these last few months he was behaving in a strange way, he had dark circles under his eyes and he never slept

The only times he did was for a short time, he seemed scared most of the time

Every time you got up in the early morning to drink water you found him crying on the floor of his room

He said he saw monsters, terrifying versions of the animatronics your father built

Those nights you used to accompany him so he could sleep but even so his paranoia didn't stop

A lot of blame was also because of Jason, he kept scaring Damian with that stupid foxy mask

You had tried to defend him but still Jason never he stopped

He always found a way to scare Damian

Richard had been the only one who managed to stop Jason's pranks

He was the older brother, he was hardly ever home before because he spent his time with his friends or at university

But since your mother disappeared he had to take care of all of you, he had to be a mother and father at the same time

Because he knew that Bruce didn't care about any of his children, sometimes you wished you could get away from here

Escape far away from this stupid "home", it stopped being considered home years ago

Your "father" who didn't even deserve to be called that, was an idiot and violent

At night you could hear your mother crying, she always fought with Bruce

It was normal for them to fight, and your father didn't mind hitting or insulting your mother

Richard tried many times to defend your mother from Bruce But the only thing he earned was a hit

You didn't understand why your mother She never fought back, she just accepted the blows and insults

But one night, you couldn't sleep because of the screams in the kitchen, they were fighting again

You slowly got out of bed to go spy, you wanted to know what was going on

It was a little weird that your parents were fighting at this time of night, you got a little closer to the door

Not enough, but you could barely see anything

The last thing you could hear was your mother screaming as she begged Bruce not to do it

You ran scared to your room, you could barely process what you saw

Your mother's screams and pleas were still in your head since that day

You hated yourself for never being able to tell what you saw

But your fear of ending up the same way as your mother prevented you from doing so

That day you realized what kind of monster your father was

You hated him so much, too much

You hated having to Seeing his face every day, you hated him touching you or just giving you a hug

You felt like gagging just thinking about him, he was the most reprehensible human being ever

And you hated him more for what he had done to Tim

Tim was your father's assistant, he used to work at the pizzeria with him

He also used to be a security guard at night

You could consider him a friend Even though he was much older than you

Sometimes you used to accompany your father to work and those days you took the opportunity to go talk to him

When you went back to accompany your father to work you looked for Tim all over the pizzeria, then your father told you that Tim had decided to quit

You frowned, you knew he was lying

He always lied, you just nodded pretending that you understood

Until one time your father asked you to take out the trash at the pizzeria, he said it would be good if you were useful for something

You just accepted it, a little offended by his comment. As you walked out the back door and put the trash in the bin, you saw something strange in a bag.

A little disgusted, you put your hand inside the trash and pulled out an identification plate.

But it wasn't just any old one, it was Tim's.

It had some dried blood stains, the blood didn't look old, it still had that red color.

You swallowed nervously and you felt like gagging. You fell to the rough ground and small tears fell from your eyes.

Someone you cared about had disappeared again and you couldn't do anything, absolutely nothing.

After that day, the streets of your neighborhood were full of "wanted" posters with Tim's face.

His parents were devastated by the disappearance of their son. He was so young and had a secure future.

Your father gave his condolences to Tim's parents.

What a hypocrite.

That was the only thing your head could think. Maybe you were just a little girl. but you understood much more than others would think

I hate you, Bruce Wayne

You officially hated this family

From one day to the next your brothers started acting weird, a few days ago you met a boy

They were the same age and he was your first friend in a long time

But as soon as they found out you made a friend they went crazy

Richard didn't let you go out alone anymore, and he sent Jason to keep a close eye on you

You could barely get close to your new friend without Jason giving you a murderous look

And because of that you had lost a friend, he was the first one you had

And he was gone, then you had a talk with Richard

He tried to justify himself saying that that boy wasn't a good influence

Why do you need friends when you have your brothers? They are much better than anyone you could ever meet

Also Damian had been clinging to you too much, his paranoia was multiplied by a thousand

You thought that this paranoia was because of those "pills" that your father gave him

You knew that they were not sleeping pills, those pills made him hallucinate

Bruce wanted to destroy each one of his children, and then he was going to rebuild them the way he wanted

Who would think that you would be his next victim, too bad things didn't go as well as he thought

Your father's new pizzeria had opened to the public, "Sister location"

This time he opened the pizzeria without Clark's help, the two of them used to be best friends

Bruce and Clark opened the first pizzeria together, but since the death of Jon his son everything had changed for him

He had fallen into great guilt and depression

The death of his son and the unexpected divorce with his wife had left him in a bad state

He had decided to withdraw from the project

Leaving Bruce alone, and it was something that didn't bother him either

He had gotten what he wanted, he had already gotten Clark and his stupid morals out of his way

Your plan was almost complete, he had justice on his side

He had made sure that not a single policeman suspected him, you could say that he was about to commit a perfect crime

You found yourself crying on the floor, your cheek hurt from your father's blow

You had decided to enter your father's study without permission and spilled coffee on his plans

Bruce had become furious, you tried to apologize but it only made his anger grow

"Can't you do something right!?"

You could only look down as more tears fell from your eyes

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident..."

Bruce sighed angrily before forcibly lifting you off the ground and telling you to get out of his studio

You just nodded scared, running out the metal door

You hated this, sometimes you just wished you could die

You didn't want to be here, you wanted this to be over once and for all

You walked through the aisles of the pizzeria, your cheek still hurt

Your tears had dried but your hate and sadness were still there

Your body stopped as soon as you saw Baby

The animatronic that your father had made for you, one day you gave him a drawing and he used that as inspiration

That day you were so happy, for the first time you had felt your father's love

Too bad this was a trap disguised as a gift

You entered the shameless room where the animatronic was

It seemed strange to you that it was separated from the other animatronics

As soon as the animatronic detected you, its eyes sparkled

"Baby..."

The animatronic's name came out of your lips, your eyes sparkled with happiness

After a long time you could finally see it

The animatronic's stomach opened surprising you

A small ice cream came out of it, it was your favorite flavor

You thought that your father had made it just for you

You approached slowly, your arm getting close to the ice cream

You could barely react when the claw pierced you and threw you towards the animatronic

A scream of pain was heard throughout the room, you felt your ribs breaking and your organs being crushed by the claw

The last thing you felt was your bones being destroyed as you completely entered the stomach of the animatronic

The animatronic barely caught your body inside its stomach when it turned off, her task had been completed

The only thing left in this bloody scene was the blood on the floor and the stomach of the animatronic

That day the innocence of another child had been snatched away by Bruce Wayne's claws

And this time the victim was his daughter

A small tinkling in the eyes of the animatronic illuminated the empty and dark room, they had changed color

The same color as your eyes

Bruce had gone to He checked the animatronics, he thought they had completed their mission

He was very surprised when he found your body crushed between the wires of baby

At that moment something changed inside him, you weren't supposed to end up like this

If one of your brothers had ended up like this he wouldn't care much, but you?

Yes, he was a horrible father but there was a part of him that cared about you

But he also discovered something, remnant

Your body had produced that

Also your soul had merged with the animatronic, it was something he realized when he saw baby's eyes

That day he had fallen further into imminent madness

But everything has its end

Richard sighed tiredly as he parked his car in front of the "Sister location" store

It had been a year since everything happened

Too bad your death wasn't the only incident that happened in the family

Since your death Richard began to neglect his other brothers, guilt consumed him and he had no one to vent to

Also the jokes had increased on Jason's part, and he had begun to take it out on Damian

And his jokes began to become more dangerous

until one day on Damian's birthday Jason decided to play one last joke on him

He decided to put him inside the mouth of one of the animatronics, too bad not everything went well

The animatronic's jaw ended up crushing Damian's skull while he asked Jason to get him out of there

That had marked Jason forever, he had fallen into a deep depression

Your death and Damian's death filled him with guilt, he had killed one of his

He was a murderer

After a time of depression and self-harm Richard found him hanging in his room

Richard's mental state began to worsen, it seemed as if the world was against him

His life was full of misfortunes

The only thing that kept him afloat was a little voice in his head that told him not to give up

It sounded just like you

Then Bruce decided to disappear by moving somewhere and only leaving a farewell note

From time to time he sent Richard money but he had to work so as not to end up on the street

Because Bruce cared very little about his safety

Until one day Bruce called him, told him to go to sister location

He was going to refuse until Bruce confessed everything to Richard

You were there, or well

Your body was there, he told him that you died because of an animatronic and that your soul and body were there

And the only way to Freeing you was going back there, that was the only thing Bruce needed to tell Richard before he grabbed all his things to go to that abandoned pizzeria

He sighed nervously as he approached the pizzeria, he had lost you years ago

And the guilt continued to eat away at him

But this time he had another chance and he had to do whatever it took to free you from that hell

But it was just a trap, a trap disguised as hope and sweet lies

Your soul had been corrupted and the only thing left was hate and resentment

Resentment for the hate of the man who did this to you, the purple man

I hate you Bruce Wayne

But this time I will have my revenge, we will have our revenge

I am not afraid of you anymore, not anymore

reuploaded because for some reason tumblr deleted it lol

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rhiannonsknife · 2 days ago

Note

😭 Thank you so so so so so much for writing my request!! There's absolutely no rush with this I just wanted to ask another one, Because I'm kind of obsessed with your work-

Perhaps Jackie Taylor X Reader where they have been married for a long time. Like 10 plus years. She wakes up ready to go to work but their reading is standing in the kitchen, And it reminds Jackie of when they were so young and in love. It just makes her fall in love with the reader all over again and she decides she just has to take the reader and eat her out on the counter!

-🦜

── RUNNING HOME TO YOUR SWEET NOTHINGS

— summary: slow mornings with jackie.

— warnings: established relationship/marriage. fem!reader. domestic fluff & nsfw content. mdni.

jackie stretches as she wakes, letting consciousness settle over her slowly. the sheets are warm, cocooning her in their familiar weight, too tempting to leave just yet. from the other room, the quiet sounds of morning drift in; the rustle of pages turning, the soft clink of a spoon against ceramic.

jackie’s muscles, untrained but prominent from years of soccer in highschool and college, uncoil as she turns her head toward your side of the bed. it’s empty but still holds the warmth of you, the shape of your body faintly imprinted on the freshly washed sheets. not gone long, then. she smiles to herself, fingertips tracing the dip where you had been.

a soft weight presses against her shin, pulling her from the last remnants of sleep. glancing down, jackie finds your cat curled at the foot of the bed, paws tucked neatly under its chin. she reaches out, running her fingers over its soft fur, scratching lightly between its ears. the cat barely stirs, only flicking its tail once before sinking deeper into sleep. even after all these years, it still favors you.

with another stretch, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, the morning air cool against her skin. reaching for the worn sweater draped over the chair, jackie tugs it on quickly. yours, technically, but she’s long since claimed it as her own in the mornings. the fabric is too large on her, with sleeves hanging way past her hands, but it smells like you and the lavender laundry detergent you always buy and feels more comforting than any of her own clothes.

once she pulls it over her head and untangles her limbs from the sheets, she moves from the bedroom. jackie already knows exactly where she’ll find you.

as she walks through the hallway, she passes all the little signs of your life together: the framed photo from your honeymoon hangs slightly crooked on the wall, something you always insist you’ll fix but never do. tucked into the frame is a worn polaroid from your first apartment, covering a small crack in the glass. in it, jackie is holding up a wine glass, while you’re caught mid-laugh, leaning into her the same way you always have, even in the wedding photos that follow further down the hall.

the entryway table holds a vase of dried flowers, a bouquet she had given you months ago, now preserved because you couldn’t throw them out. nearby, a small stack of mail she keeps meaning to sort through, books piled beside it, some hers, some yours, overlapping in the same way your lives always have. it’s a cozy kind of mess, one that makes her smile even in passing.

and then there’s you, the centerpiece of jackie’s existence now, standing in the kitchen, bathed in the light that spills through the curtains.

you’re still in your nightgown, its hem skimming the curve of your thighs, and your hair is a little mussed from sleep. one hand cradles a mug, while the other flips absently through a book on the counter, your lips quirking every so often at whatever you’re reading while you wait for the eggs to cook.

jackie freezes in the doorway to watch you for a bit.

it’s been over a decade. over ten years of this, of waking up and falling asleep to you, learning every single one of your habits, and still, she finds herself caught off guard by how much she loves you and how much she still wants you, in all the ways that matter.

she remembers mornings like this from the beginning, back when you were both in high school, and time alone was a rare thing. the only moments you had to yourselves then were tucked into the short window between her parents leaving for work and shauna pulling up to drive you both to school.

everything felt like new territory back then. your presence in her house had meant rushed breakfasts at the kitchen counter, stolen kisses between sips of coffee in the too-large home of the taylors, always cut short by the sound of an approaching car and the reality that you couldn’t stay.

now, here you are, still stealing her breath away.

you glance up as if sensing your wife, and your face softens into a smile. jackie swallows, her heart doing something embarrassingly teenage in her chest.

“you’re staring,” you tease, taking a sip of your tea. jackie hums, pushing off the doorframe and crossing the room. “can’t help it,”

you laugh. before you can say anything else, she’s there, warm hands finding your waist, pulling you into her. sighing into the touch, you instinctively set your mug down on the counter as she buries her face against your neck and breathes you in.

“mhm, good morning to you too mrs (y/l/n),” you murmur.

god, jackie never tires of hearing that: your name, now hers.

it had never even been a question. the moment it came up in a long conversation spent curled up bare under the sheets of the cottage where she’d proposed, jackie knew. you had tilted your head, fingers tracing lazy patterns against her shoulder, and asked, ‘so, what do we do about names?’ she had just shrugged, as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world. ‘i’ll take yours’

and that was that. no hesitation or second thoughts, just certainty, like so many things when it came to you.

“you still like the sound of that, huh?” you tilt your head enough for her to kiss you properly.

“best decision i ever made,” jackie whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. she can feel your smile against her lips in response.

“aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for work?”

she lets her hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt. “i changed my mind…”

“oh?”

“yeah. i think i’d rather stay here,”

you hum, and your fingers move into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging just enough to make jackie sigh against your mouth.

she always knows where you need her before you do yourself, and her hands slide further up beneath the silky fabric, over warm skin, cupping all of your breasts in her palms. her teeth graze your bottom lip just enough to make you whine into her. she swallows the sound greedily, tilting her head to kiss you deeper, her fingers tightening like she wants to pull you even closer. like close will never be close enough.

just as smoothly as she works your lips apart to slip her tongue in, she hooks her hands under your thighs and lifts you onto the counter. with a startled laugh, you let her move you. jackie grins when she steps between your legs, roaming the expanse of your bare thighs.

“easy,” you tease.

jackie’s palms caress up your parted thighs, the heat of her touch leaving a trail in its wake until settling firm at your hips. she holds you there and you exhale against her, fingers slipping back into her hair, curling it in your fists.

your legs tighten around her waist, pulling her in closer until jackie swears under her breath, clearly feeling the warmth that radiates from your center. she breaks the kiss just long enough to press her forehead against yours, breathing heavy, lips agape.

“you,” she accuses with her index poking your sides. “are trying to kill me here!”

“i’m not doing anything!” you protest.

jackie scoffs, quick to steal another kiss. then another. and another, like she has all the time in the world. right when you’re sure she’s going to lose herself entirely, the kitchen timer beeps.

the eggs.

for half a second, jackie looks almost offended at the rude interruption, but then your head drops against her shoulder and your body shakes with laughter. she groans, but your laughter is contagious, and soon enough, she’s laughing too.

jackie doesn’t let go of you, blindly reaching behind herself to fumble for the stove dial until she manages to turn it off.

“you’re just going to leave them sitting there?”

she nods, lips trailing down your jaw again so her voice comes out muffled. “they’ll survive”

you wrap your arms around her shoulders whilst she kisses her way back to your mouth.

jackie’s fingers fumble with the tie of your nightgown, working it open without needing to break the kiss. years spent learning where to tug and pull to free you from your clothes are to blame, the different motions muscle memory by now.

no matter how familiar jackie is with your body, she will never not take her time savoring the sight of you: you’re not wearing anything underneath, save for a thin pair of panties, so with the way she’s pushed the gown open your chest is on full display.

“so pretty,” she purrs, already closing the distance again. her hands cup your breasts, rolling your nipples gently at the same time as she’s kissing you. jackie’s mouth wanders to the side of your throat, then further down.

there’s no longer need for claim, for desperate encounters that aim to prove something. jackie will occasionally enjoy ravishing you (sinking her teeth in your flesh until the skin between them bruises all while she’s really fucking you), but it has become this for the most part: gentle lovemaking whenever you have the chance, still unable to keep your hands off of each other.

her lips briefly graze over the valley between your breasts, then slide below your belly button as she lowers her weight to the ground in front of you. with a smile, you cup one side of her face, taking your own share of time to admire your wife.

jackie doesn’t let you have a lot of it, though: before you know it, her mouth is on the fabric of your underwear and your head falls back against the wall as she feels you up with her tongue and lips, pressing in the places she’s memorized by heart.

“is that okay?” she breathes against you, still fully clothed, but aching with want.

“mhm,” you tighten your grip and jackie, who sighs happily in response and reaches out to peel your panties off. she’s careful with it, making sure you won’t slide off the counter while she lifts one leg after the other, just to pocket the underwear once that is done.

an invitation would not be necessary, and still, you spread your legs wider, not out of urgency but trust, shame and self consciousness long outgrown.

she has seen you in every state, knows every scar, every curve, every place where time has left its mark and, still, jackie looks at you like you are the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. her hands brush over skin she’s traced a thousand times before, never with any less reverence.

you look down just in time to find jackie pressing a first kiss to your mound, her ragged breath ghosting over your soaked sex that pulses impatiently lower.

with the index and middle finger of her right hand parted, she runs them through you, spreading your labia open in awe. a breathless sound tears from your throat, aware of how easily her digits slide through your wetness.

“come on,” you urge, lifting a leg over her shoulder. easier access.

jackie complies; her lips are parted when she presses them against you, applying just the right amount of pressure. the moan you let out at the first contact is loud and ragged, echoing through the kitchen.

“right there,” you cry.

right there, not because jackie needs guidance but because you know she loves it when you’re open. loud. when you let her know that she’s making you feel good, whether it is by letting your moans slip or by praising her verbally.

the vibrations of the noise she makes in response go straight to your core, more arousal dripping for her mouth to drink up hungrily. it is coating her, slick and wet as she traces over your clit and swirls in clockwise circles.

for a while, jackie eats you out like this, getting lost in your taste just like you are in the sensations of her tongue flicking from side to side, licking broad strokes through you, then fucking into you deep.

her hair, a little longer now but still the same golden brown she’s been maintaining, clings to the thin film of sweat on her forehead in delicate strands, proof that she’s just as affected by what she’s doing to you, whilst her neatly manicured nails dig into your flesh. soft pastel pink almond shapes drag lines of red down the side of your thighs, goosebumps and shivers rising from the touch.

“you taste so good” she says softly once, then leans right back in to continuously flick your clit.

you can tell she’s toying with you, avoiding your most sensitive spots with purpose, only ever ghosting it briefly until you’re grinding yourself against her face in frustration you cannot contain. she knows exactly what you would need to get close to the edge, pretends to give it to you, then withdraws once pleasure starts building up.

“jackie,” you whine.

between your legs, she holds your gaze, reaches out and runs a hand through your folds. when she tilts her head, asking for permission silently, you immediately nod and jackie pushes forward, two fingers sinking into the heat of your cunt.

this draws the loudest moan from you yet, though you wouldn’t dare to try and stifle it.

that’s a habit you’ve long since left behind, discarded like the passed down furniture and mismatched dishes from your first apartment. then, everything had been hushed, kisses stolen behind locked doors, moans muffled into pillows. the walls were thin, the neighbors close, and the fear of being overheard turned every moment into a careful mix of restraint and want.

in the home you live in now, there are no walls to mind, no need to press a fist to your mouth to quiet yourself. here, you are free to gasp when jackie’s lips press against your clit, free to let her love you without reservation.

jackie has taken her mouth off of you to watch the way your face contorts in pleasure as she rubs the tips of her fingers against your g-spot, allowing you to see the arousal smeared across the lower half of her face, glistening beautifully in the light.

she’s moaning too, quieter and less desperate of course, but moaning all the same when she feels the way you flutter around her as though she could actually get off from this. your pleasure had always been jackie’s, too.

“good?” she rasps.

“mhm,” you lift your head from the wall behind you, watching in awe as jackie puts her tongue back to where you want it. you don’t even know what it is about jackie’s mouth but she could probably make you cum from nothing but gentle kisses if she tried, always knowing exactly where to move to coax the most pleasure from your body.

her hair curls up between your fingers when she starts sucking on your clit gently, drawing a contented hum from her mouth.

the words jackie is saying morph into muffled babbles against your cunt, her voice white noise to the pleasure that sets your nerve endings alight as she sucks, her eyes rolling back in their sockets at the taste of you.

“jackie” you gasp, your hips pushing further into her face. an unreleased tension starts building in your abdomen, making your whole body tremble wildly.

“are you close love?” jackie asks, her fingers thrusting into you at a faster pace. “it’s okay,” she sits back on her heels to look at you, her hand making up for the momentary loss of her mouth. “i got you. just let go”

your free hand reaches for hers, fingers lacing together so that she can give you one long squeeze. jackie’s mouth starts sucking your clit harsher, pushing into you deeper, making your walls clench around her fingers. the sensation is so much. it’s not nearly enough. it’s perfect, sending you over the edge in mere seconds.

with a strangled cry of jackie’s name, you cum against the feeling of her mouth on your clit and her fingers buried deep inside you. her voice feels distant as pleasure rushes through your veins.

“that’s it” jackie praises, holding you through your orgasm. “oh my god, that’s it. fuck, you’re so beautiful” she talks you through the entire height, her voice cracking whilst she watches you fall apart and come undone. she continues her licking and sucking too, until you comfortably move her head away, spent and on the verge of overstimulation.

with a wet pop, she releases your throbbing clit and presses a last kiss to your knee before rising to her feet. you’re still perched on the counter, catching your breath, warmth buzzing under your skin.

jackie reaches for the edges of your nightgown next, making quick work of pulling the fabric back together, tying it loosely at your waist. you watch her fuss over it with amusement, as if she hadn’t just spent the last several minutes undoing it in the first place. “very modest of you”

“someone’s gotta keep you decent,” she quips, a teasing smile on her lips as she slots herself back between your legs, hands settling at your waist. the kiss that follows is slow and sweet, her mouth still carrying the taste of you. jackie lingers until the soft scent of something cooking reminds you of the world beyond her touch.

your gaze flickers past her to the stove, where the eggs still sit, long forgotten. “so...you still want breakfast?”

jackie glances over her shoulder at the abandoned pan, then back at you, considering. “i mean, we did work up an appetite, huh?”

you roll your eyes, swatting at her arm playfully before slipping down from the counter. she doesn’t let you go far, her hands finding your waist again as she stands behind you, holding you close while you move around the kitchen.

#˙💌 ̟ !! ─ my works #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x female reader #jackie taylor x you #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x female reader #yellowjackets x you #🦜 anon

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heejamas · 3 days ago

Text

scott street ── ˙ ̟🏡 ⛰️

pairings: beomgyu x female reader genre: childhood friends to lovers, beomgyu as your ex, romance warnings: none <3 w/c: 3.3k author's note: this fic was inspired by the song scott street by phoebe bridgers. it’s a drabble i’ve been holding onto for a long time, and i actually cried while writing it—it was really emotional for me. it’s nothing like the genre i usually write, but i hope you guys like it <3

It was sunny the day you saw Beomgyu for the last time.

The kind of sun that tricks you, golden and sprawling, but with a wind sharp enough to cut through skin. It was bright enough to make the moment feel less real, like the day was too beautiful to hold something so heavy. You remember the way the light caught in his hair, the way his shadow stretched too long on the pavement, the way he smiled at you—soft, knowing, like he had already made peace with something you hadn’t even begun to understand.

And then he was gone.

You didn’t cry that day. You remember thinking you should’ve. That it would’ve been easier if it hurt all at once, like a clean break, instead of the slow, creeping ache that settled in your bones. But you just stood there, staring at the spot where he had been, blinking against the brightness of the sky.

The days after were quiet. You learned to live around the absence of him, the way you’d live around a missing tooth, tongue always searching for something that wasn’t there. The spaces he left behind became part of the scenery—an empty chair at your favorite café, a number you refused to delete from your phone, a playlist you skipped over in the car. You kept expecting time to dull the sharp edges, to smooth out the rough parts of remembering. But grief is funny that way—it doesn’t soften so much as it changes shape, curling around the parts of your life you never expected it to touch.

Still, you tried.

You told yourself you’d move on. You changed your number, dyed your hair, picked up bad habits and dropped them just as fast. You filled your time with people whose voices you wouldn’t remember in the morning, let yourself laugh a little too loudly at things that weren’t really funny. You said yes to invitations just so you wouldn’t be alone, then spent the night staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, gripping the sink, wondering if he still thought of you, too.

You threw yourself into everything. You filled your time with new people, new routines, new cities. You let yourself be swallowed by the hum of life, the late nights and early mornings, the crowded rooms and quiet walks home. You stopped counting the months. You thought, maybe, this was what moving on looked like.

And then, two years later, on a day like any other, you walked into a flower shop.

It wasn’t something you planned. You were just passing by, taking a different route home, when the scent of fresh flowers drifted into the street. The shop was small, tucked between a bookstore and a bakery, its windows framed with ivy, soft music playing just loud enough to be heard over the sound of traffic. It wasn’t there when you first moved to this neighborhood. You hesitated at the door, not really sure why you went in at all.

Maybe it was the way the light poured through the windows. Maybe it was the empty space in your apartment, the way it still didn’t feel like yours. Maybe it was something else entirely.

The air inside was thick with earth and petals, the kind of scent that felt like stepping into another time. Sunlight slanted across wooden shelves, catching in the dust floating lazily through the air. The counter was lined with small potted plants, leaves trembling slightly under the hum of the ceiling fan. It was warm. Still.

For a moment, you just breathed.

Then—

Your name.

Soft. Familiar. Said like a secret, like something fragile enough to break.

You turned.

And there he was.

Beomgyu.

Older now. His hair was longer, curling slightly at the ends, falling into his eyes in a way that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. His hands were covered in soil, pressed against the wooden counter, but his eyes—his eyes hadn’t changed at all. Wide, bright, unreadable. The same eyes that once held entire summers, entire lifetimes.

He looked like he belonged there.

And you—

You felt like you had stepped into a memory.

Like you were seventeen again, sitting on his parents’ roof, listening to the cicadas hum in the heat. Like you were twenty, laughing into his shoulder, your hands tangled together under a bar table sticky with spilled drinks. Like you were twenty-four, standing on the sidewalk, watching his back as he walked away.

The way his laugh echoed in your childhood bedroom. The way he kissed you for the first time, all nerves and certainty, right before he left for college. The way he whispered I love you against your skin, when you thought forever was something you could hold onto if you just tried hard enough.

The way he left.

The way you let him.

Everything pressed in at once. The weight of all the things you never said, all the years spent without him, all the ways the world had changed and stayed the same.

And then—

“Hey,” he said.

Like it hadn’t been two years. Like the last time you spoke wasn’t a goodbye.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Your throat felt tight, like if you said his name, it might break something open inside you.

And now, here he is.

Smelling like flowers and soil and something achingly familiar.

Smiling at you like no time has passed at all.

You swallow, forcing yourself to find something—anything—to say. Your voice feels strange when it finally leaves your throat, too thin, too unsteady.

“Hey.”

It’s such a small word. So small, so weightless. And yet it lands between you like a stone dropped into water, sending ripples through the space you thought time had settled.

Beomgyu’s smile twitches, something flickering behind his eyes. Relief, maybe. Or something heavier, something that settles in the lines of his face, in the way he exhales as if he had been holding his breath.

The silence stretches, neither of you quite sure how to move through it.

He gestures vaguely at the counter, at the shop, at the air itself. “So… this is me now.”

Your gaze drifts, taking in the warmth of it all. The deep greens and soft yellows, the faint scent of soil and petals in bloom. The air is thick with summer, even though it’s still early spring. You think it suits him in a way you can’t quite put into words.

“I never thought you’d open a flower shop,” you murmur, letting the sentence settle between you.

His mouth quirks to the side, like he wants to argue but doesn’t quite know how. Instead, he exhales through his nose, gaze dropping to the countertop. “Neither did I.”

Another beat of silence. Another second where everything inside you feels like it’s trembling on the edge of something unspoken.

And then—

“I quit.”

You blink. “Quit?”

He nods, fingers brushing absently over a stray leaf beside him. “The firm. The whole thing.”

Your brows knit together, trying to bridge the gap between the boy who once traced constellations into your palm and the man who disappeared into something colder, sharper. The Beomgyu you last knew was all pressed collars and coffee gone stale, his voice too measured, his laughter too rare. You wonder when he stopped seeing the point in beautiful things. When he stopped letting himself reach for them.

“Why?” you ask.

His eyes linger on yours for a moment too long, like he’s deciding how much to tell you. Then, finally—

“Because it wasn’t what I thought it’d be.”

The words are simple, quiet. No bitterness, no regret. Just the kind of understanding that only comes after losing something you didn’t know you needed.

Your gaze drifts, tracing the curve of a vine creeping along the shelves. There’s a small, wooden sign hanging near the window—Lily of the Valley. The name catches on something at the back of your mind, but before you can follow the thread, Beomgyu shifts his weight, clearing his throat.

He watches you carefully, fingers twitching against the counter. There’s a question at the back of his tongue, one he doesn’t dare to say out loud.

Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?

But he swallows it down. Instead, he asks—“So… what about you? What have you been up to?”

You hesitate, like you’re sifting through your own memories, trying to find an answer that doesn’t feel like a lie.

But before you can speak, before you can string together something coherent, Beomgyu is already somewhere else. It happens so easily. The unraveling.

At first, it’s just a day, a week, a month. A shift so slow it barely feels like moving. Then suddenly, you look up, and you don’t recognize the space you’re standing in anymore.

Beomgyu tells himself it’s just part of growing up. That loving something and leaving it behind are not contradictions, just inevitabilities. He throws himself into the next thing, and the next, and the next. If he moves fast enough, maybe he won’t have time to feel the spaces he hollowed out inside himself.

But time is cruel in its stillness. The days stretch long in the quiet of his apartment, filled with things he does not love, things he did not choose. The walls are too white, too cold. His bed is too big, the silence too loud. He starts leaving his windows open at night, hoping the wind might carry something back to him.

It never does.

It’s funny—the things you don’t realize you’ll miss until they’re gone.

Like the way you used to laugh at your own jokes before you could even finish telling them. How your voice would lilt when you were teasing him, your grin all sharp edges and bright light. How you always knew when he was about to say something stupid before he even opened his mouth.

He doesn’t remember when it started. When looking at you became unbearable in the best way. When he started memorizing the way the sun caught in your hair, the way you bit your lip when you were trying not to laugh. He had known you forever, but at some point, it started to feel different—like he had spent years standing in front of a painting, only to wake up one day and realize it had been shifting the whole time.

And then he left. Just like that.

He never let himself feel guilty about it. Not at first.

Because it was what people did, wasn’t it? They left home, they outgrew the things that tethered them. It was a sign of something—of movement, of ambition. So he convinced himself that this was what he wanted. The long hours, the office with a view, the sound of his own footsteps echoing down endless white halls. He wore suits that didn’t fit right and shook hands with people who looked right through him. He pretended not to notice how his own reflection started to feel like a stranger.

But it was in the in-between moments that it would hit him.

Like when he’d come across something absurdly stupid and go to text you, only to remember that he hadn’t heard your voice in months.

Or when someone would try to make him laugh, and he’d think about how no one was as funny as you. No one knew him the way you did—how to push his buttons just right, how to make his ribs ache with laughter even when he swore he wasn’t in the mood.

Or when he walked home alone after work, passing storefronts filled with things he knew you’d love, things he knew you’d hate. It was strange, how the world kept carrying pieces of you, even when you weren’t there to claim them.

And then, one night, he caught himself staring at the skyline and wondering if you were staring at the same moon. And it was something so cliche, so painfully sentimental, that he had to laugh at himself. But then the laughter faded, and the ache stayed.

That was when he knew.

Knew that he had spent years trying to shape himself into something he never wanted to be. Knew that all the things he thought he was supposed to want—power, prestige, a life paved in sleek ambition—meant nothing if he wasn’t happy.

So he quit. Just like that.

And for the first time in a long time, he let himself want something just because it was beautiful.

He built something of his own. Something that reminded him of home, of childhood, of summers spent sprawled on front lawns with you by his side. Of the way you used to pluck wildflowers and braid them into his hair when you were kids, giggling at how pretty he looked.

And when it came time to name it, he didn’t have to think twice.

Lily of the Valley. A flower that meant sweetness, renewal, the return of happiness. The flower of the year you were born. He never knew if you’d ever walk through the doors. If you’d ever see the name and wonder.

But now, here you are.

Standing in front of him again.

Smelling like something achingly familiar.

Looking at him like no time has passed at all.

“I moved around here,” you say, and Beomgyu blinks like he’s just now hearing you. Like he had been somewhere else entirely. You can tell by the way he straightens up slightly, clearing his throat.

“Yeah?” His voice is even, but his fingers twitch against the ceramic pot he’s holding.

“Needed to be closer to work,” you explain. “New job, new place. Figured it was time for a change.”

Beomgyu nods, slow and measured. His gaze flickers over you like he’s taking inventory, checking for things that are different, things that are the same.

“You seem good,” he says eventually.

You smile, though it feels like pressing on a bruise. “You seem good too.”

The silence stretches, thin and delicate.

Maybe you both look fine, sound fine, play your parts so well that no one would know the difference. But the weight of the past settles in your chest like a stone, pressing against your ribs. Because you remember.

You remember the day he left. The way the air felt thick with something unspoken, the way you stood there, hands curled into fists at your sides, trying to swallow the ache in your throat. He had smiled at you then—soft, apologetic, like he knew exactly what he was taking with him when he walked away. And you had let him go. What else could you have done?

Now, your eyes sting. You blink fast, locking it all away before it can spill over. Not here. Not in front of him.

Then Beomgyu shifts, stepping out from behind the counter. “Well,” he says, voice lighter now, “I guess you’ll need some plants to fill the space, right?”

It feels like an offering. Like something small and safe between you, something that won’t crack open the past.

“Yeah,” you say, exhaling. “Guess I do.”

He picks up a monstera, large green leaves curling outward like open palms. Holds it out to you like he’s handing you something more than just a plant.

“You always thought these were beautiful,” he murmurs.

The weight of his words settles somewhere deep in your chest.

“I did,” you say, softer this time.

You think about all the times you almost asked. The quiet moments when his name would surface in conversation, sitting there, unspoken on your tongue. The way your fingers hovered over old texts, over the urge to reach out, to ask how things were—how he was.

But you never did. Out of pride, maybe. Or fear. Or the gnawing possibility that he wouldn’t answer.

Still, some things slip through the cracks.

“How’s your sister?” You ask.

Beomgyu stills for half a second, then huffs out something like a laugh.

“She’s good,” he says. “Finally got her degree.”

“Wow.” You shift the bag in your arms. “That makes me feel old.”

Beomgyu smirks. “What does that make me, then?”

You roll your eyes, and for a brief moment, something almost like comfort settles between you. Almost.

“What about the band?” you say, glancing at the shop around you, the soft green of leaves, the scent of fresh soil and something warmer, something achingly familiar.

“They’re all getting married,” he says, a quiet laugh in his voice. “Or buying houses. Moving up.”

You wonder if he means the garage band he had with his friends, or the life that came with it. If he means more than that.

His fingers brush absently against the edge of the monstera’s leaves. He doesn’t say what you can feel pressing against the air between you.

Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?

But he doesn’t ask. And you don’t answer.

You exhale softly, shifting the weight of the monstera in your arms. “I’ll take this one,” you say, fingers tracing the edge of one of its broad, waxy leaves. “Feels like a good place to start.”

Beomgyu watches you for a moment before nodding, stepping back behind the counter. “Good choice,” he murmurs, ringing up the sale.

The hum of the register fills the quiet between you.

“How are your parents?” he asks, glancing at you as he types in a price he doesn’t intend to charge.

“They’re good,” you say. “Still in the same house. Still in Scott Street.”

His eyes shift at the mention of that street, a spark of recognition lighting up his expression. Scott Street—a river of memories flowing through your mind, winding back to days of innocence.

But now, that street feels like a faded photograph, each memory tinged with a bittersweet ache. You stand there, caught in the tide of nostalgia, longing for the comfort of those moments when everything felt right, before life pulled you both in different directions.

“My dad still spends his mornings on the porch, waving at every neighbor like he’s running for office. My mom still keeps the same wind chime by the door. Says she knows when I’m visiting because I always hit my head on it.”

You say and Beomgyu smiles at that. A real smile, though it fades almost as quickly as it comes.

His hand stills briefly against the register. “Mine moved a while ago. Somewhere quieter. Said they wanted a fresh start.”

“I know,” you say softly.

Beomgyu blinks at you. Then something like understanding settles over his face. Of course, you’d know.

The past has a way of circling back, even when you think you’ve left it behind.

You reach for your wallet, but before you can pull out a card, Beomgyu shakes his head.

“Don’t,” he says. “It’s a housewarming gift.”

You frown, looking down at the plant. “Beomgyu—”

“It’s my store,” he interrupts, a teasing lilt to his voice, but his expression is something gentler. “I make the rules.”

You hesitate. “Then I owe you a store-warming gift.”

He huffs out a soft laugh, looking down at his hands for a moment before meeting your eyes again.

“You already gave it to me,” he says.

Something shifts in the air.

The words settle between you, warm and heavy. You don’t need to ask what he means. You can see it in the way his fingers tighten slightly against the counter. The way his shoulders drop just a little, like he’s been holding something up for too long.

For a second, you want to say something. Anything. But the weight of it all sits too thick in your throat, and you think maybe he feels it too.

Then he inhales, exhales, and shakes his head slightly, like shaking off a thought.

“Anyway,” he says, voice lighter now, carefully placed. “Don’t be… a stranger.”

The words settle somewhere deep, pressing against your ribs, slipping between the cracks of something you thought had long since healed.

You swallow around the bittersweet ache, adjusting the plant in your arms before offering him a small, quiet smile. “I won’t,” you say, though you’re not sure if it’s a promise or a lie.

Outside, the world moves on. A car horn echoes down the street. A bike bell chimes, sharp and fleeting. Somewhere, a dog barks.

Inside, nothing feels normal at all.

my masterlist <3

author's note: yeah. anyway. so.

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