#will I ever finish brewing this game??

[tippinghatterart]

First one down! This is Iris, she is a god for a dnd campagin I am slowly working on (I am trying to draw all the "main" npcs). LITTLE LORE, just for the folks that like lore. Iris is the goddess of Illusions in the campaign I am working on the island players are gonna be on is run by gods that embody the types of magic Illusions, Enchantment, necromancy ect. Iris is the goddess of illusions, she loves extravagance and as well as playing tricks. I would say personality wise she kinda acts like royalty, but in the self centered and I like that and this is mine sort of way she is also big on THEATRICS! I will say all the gods/goddess I am making have an alternate form (think Kaiju) and her's is a mix of a centipede and a moth and is HUGE!! Next one I am working on is the deity for abjuration so if you look at the line art that I doodled for the designs and shared previously maybe you can guess!!

[gmalaart]

It’s very funny to roam around the VtM part of tumblr because sometimes you will come across someone and be like “omg the Tzimisce antediluvian is on tumblr???”

Yet another secret the Camarilla doesn’t want us to know about

[its3nvy]

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy" Billy the Kid

Summary: After drawing the wrong kind of attention at the saloon, Billy comes to your rescue. Having to pretend to be his for the night, which leads to a ‘wear the hat, ride the cowboy’ situation ;) 

Tags/warnings: mdni (18+), porn with no plot, angst, size kink, riding cock, overstimulation, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, slight knife kink

Note : This is my first time ever writing smut and I haven't edited it a lot so this should be fun. (Tell me if it's good or not pls)

tags: f!reader, smut

word count: 3.7k

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Curiosity led you to the local saloon one evening, where Billy often engaged in poker games. The air inside was thick with the smoky residue of cigars, and the occasional clinking of glasses underscored the distant melody of a forlorn piano. As you pushed through the creaking doors, your presence hung in the air, drawing the gaze of rough patrons whose eyes bore into you with a kind of familiarity you had never known. Unaccustomed to the bold gazes and suggestive comments that swirled around you like a threatening storm, you sought refuge at the bar. A man behind it was taking someone’s order.

You looked around, your eyes finally found Billy's familiar frame, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke, engaged in a high-stakes poker game.

“Hello, darlin’,” a drunken man stumbled toward you.

“Hello, sir,” you gave him a small smile, trying to avoid his intense stare.

He leaned against the bar to keep his balance. “Come on, darling, don’t be such a prude. Talk to me.” His hand reached up, attempting to caress your face.

From afar, you saw Billy, his eyes—usually mischievous and full of life—met yours with a fleeting recognition. Without uttering a word, he rose from his chair, his cowboy boots echoing a heavy cadence on the worn wooden floor.

The drunken man's intrusive advances persisted, his slurred words creating an uncomfortable tension. "Don’t play hard to get, honey. I can show you a good time," he insisted, his hand becoming more insistent. Ignoring the drunkard, you turned back to the bar, hoping for intervention. The man persisted, his persistence turning aggressive. As his hand encroached upon your personal space, a shadow fell over you. 

Billy's presence loomed, his gaze colder than the steel of his revolver. Without a word, he grabbed the man's hand, his grip firm and unyielding. “Leave her alone," Billy's voice cut through the clamor of the saloon, his words echoing with a subtle menace.

The tension escalated, a palpable undercurrent surging through the room. The patrons, sensing the imminent storm, shifted uneasily. Billy's eyes held yours, a silent reassurance amid the brewing chaos. The drunk man, now confronted by the notorious gunslinger, stumbled backward, a mixture of recognition and fear contorting his expression. With a final warning glare from Billy, he slinked away into the crowd.

Billy turned towards you, his eyes softening as if to assure you that the storm had passed. 

"What in the hell are ya doin’ here?", he murmured, his tone both gruff and concerned as he reached you, seizing your hand and guiding you to the quiet side of the room. "I needed to go out, Billy," you replied, your voice carrying a note of defiance and desperation.

He hissed, a trace of irritation etching lines across his rugged features. "You can’t. You gotta go home. These people here are dangerous," he warned.

"And you don’t think me leaving alone would be dangerous?" you shot back, your gaze a defiant challenge to the protective facade he wore like impenetrable armor.

"Shit," he conceded, his irritation mingling with a begrudging acceptance of your undeniable truth. "Alright, I’m finishing up my round, and then we can go," Billy relented, his tone an admission of defeat. "But you play along with me, ok? If they don’t think you're claimed, they'll see you as fair game," he said, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cut through the smoky haze, demanding an unspoken oath.

“Ok,” you huffed out.

He pulled you towards his table with a rough yet oddly comforting grip, a silent acknowledgment that, for a fleeting moment, you were to be sheltered from the men surrounding you as long as you stayed with him. "Wait," he murmured, his hand lingering on yours. With a swift motion, he removed his hat, worn and weathered from a life on the precipice.

You extended your hand to stop him. "Billy, you can’t," you insisted, your voice barely more than a whisper, laden with the implications of his gesture. “You know what this means.”

"That’s the point," he declared, his crooked grin returning like a bittersweet promise of protection. As he placed his hat on your head, it became a proclamation, an unspoken claim made before the watchful eyes of everyone present, and a promise of a heated night that lingered in the air like an unspoken secret.

"Now, c’mere," he commanded, pulling you towards him as he settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap. You bit on your lips, a mixture of anticipation and fear, the heat rising to your cheeks as the proximity between you tightened like a coiled spring. This was the first time Billy had been so close, and the magnetic pull of his presence ignited an unfamiliar fire within you.

He looked up at you as you bit your lips, his gaze a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that hung thick in the air.

As he resumed his poker game, you felt his breath against your neck. "Pass me the whiskey, doll," he asked.

You leaned against the table, inadvertently pulling your hips tighter into his pelvis, sensing his hardness between you. His hands reached out against your hips, gripping you and keeping you still. "Careful," he warned against the shell of your ear, his breath raising goosebumps along your neck, a sensation that heightened the electrifying energy between you.

As you handed him the glass, he took a swig, and then, with a deliberate slowness, leaned down against the side of your neck, planting a lingering kiss. "Thank you, doll," his gravelly voice murmured, the aroma of whiskey lingering in the air.

Billy's fingers grazed lightly along your waist, sending a cascade of sensations through your body. His gaze met yours once more, a silent invitation lingering in his eyes. It was then that you became acutely aware of the speculative glances from the patrons, their curiosity fueled by the undeniable connection unfolding before them.

The weight of Billy's hat on your head felt like both a shield and a beacon, marking you as his amidst the prying eyes of the saloon.

The night passed on and as the final hand of poker concluded, Billy rose from his seat, still holding you close. "Wrapping it up for the night, boys. See ya tomorrow," he declared, his voice a mix of weariness and determination.

He grabbed your hand, guiding you out with a certain urgency. The saloon doors swung open, thrusting you back into the harsh glow of moonlight. As you stopped in front of his horse, he turned around and said, "What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone? You know how they treat women here."

His words cut through the night air, a mixture of concern and frustration etched on his rugged features. The distant sounds of revelry from the saloon formed a dissonant backdrop to the charged atmosphere between you.

You met his gaze, a swirl of emotions reflecting in his eyes. "I just wanted to have one free night, Billy. Just one," you replied, your voice carrying a note of desperation. Billy's jaw clenched, a silent acknowledgment of the dangers lurking in the shadows. "This ain't the place for that, especially not for someone like you," he muttered, his grip on your hand tightening as if to emphasize the point.

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, revealing the hardened resolve etched into his expression. "I can't have you wandering into places like this, doll," he continued, a trace of vulnerability underlying his gruff tone. "It's too damn dangerous."

Billy sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to release the tension in the air. "Let's get you home," he said, his voice softened. With a final glance back at the saloon, you moved towards his horse. As you approached, he placed his hands on your hips, lifting you onto the horse with a gentle yet firm touch. You instinctively grabbed his forearm for support, your eyes locking in a shared moment of intimacy. 

The ride home was a silent journey through the cool night air, the rhythmic hooves of the horse creating a steady cadence. You sat in front of Billy, the warmth of his body enveloping you, his strong arms encircling your waist as you traversed the dimly lit trails. 

As the horse navigated the uneven terrain, Billy's embrace tightened slightly, offering both stability and reassurance. His chin rested on your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your neck, and in that intimate proximity, the weight of your unspoken desires lingered like an invisible thread weaving through the darkness.

Arriving at your doorstep, Billy helped you dismount, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Your eyes met, a complex tapestry of emotions woven between you. He spoke, his words a whisper carried away by the night breeze, "Be more careful, doll. This world ain't kind, especially to those with a heart as tender as yours." He placed his hand against your cheek, caressing it lovingly.

"Billy," you responded, the ache in your voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and longing. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, his touch a hushed plea for silence. "Go to sleep, doll. I'll come by tomorrow morning," he whispered, giving you a kiss on the forehead, turning away.

"Billy, wait," an urgency surged within you, desperate to find a reason for him to stay. You took off your hat, intending to return it to him, a feeble attempt to anchor him in the moment. “Keep it. I prefer it on you,” he remarked, a bittersweet acknowledgment that stirred emotions too complex to unravel.

Locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, you inched toward him, a silent plea lingering in the air. As your fingers tightened around the hat, a palpable tension filled the space between you. His intense blue eyes held yours, revealing a tumult of unspoken struggles and desires. Your gaze shifted to his lips—slightly chapped yet irresistibly inviting. 

Closing the distance, you reached him, and, without hesitation, pressed your lips against his. The kiss was a desperate plea, an attempt to convey the emotions that words couldn't capture.

Billy's initial surprise melted into a shared passion, and for a moment, the world around you faded. His arms encircled you, pulling you close as if trying to etch the moment into his memory. As the intensity deepened, you let go of the hat, your hands finding their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. He tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin. He pulled away slightly, breath mingling with yours, lips lingering, an anguished pause in the silent night.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned, your foreheads leaning against one another, his hands gripping the fabric on your waist. You looked up into his eyes, witnessing the inner battle reflected in his gaze as he grappled with the decision to restrain himself or not.

You approached your lips to his cheek, giving him a slight peck, when you heard him whisper, "Fuck it." His lips crashed to yours, hungry, hot, and demanding, stealing your breath in a heated rush. His hand came up, cupping your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss as he slicked his tongue inside your mouth.

“Come, let’s go inside, yeah?” He asked. You nodded at him, as he gave you a quick kiss, ushering you inside, “good girl.” And in an instant, he’s moving toward you, wrapping his arms around your body and pressing you to his chest. You press your lips to his and moan at the taste of Whiskey. His tongue slides over yours in slow strokes that make your cheeks warm, but it’s when his teeth nip at your bottom lip that a whine escapes. 

His rough, calloused hands drop to the cusp of your neck, gripping your hair just tight enough to make you hiss. You arch into his touch as he starts to explore your body, mapping out every dip and curve. 

“Billy- Please… do something.” He moans a response into your neck as his lips slip down to leave love bites along the column of your throat. 

Eager to feel you, Billy tried to pull at the strings of your corset, but to no avail. It was too complicated to remove in the dark, and with the emotions aptly blinding him, Billy had no patience to try.

In the dark, you heard a flick of a knife, and you felt a cold tip of the blade against your skin before Billy’s voice comforted you, “Be a good girl and don’t move, ok?”

A rip ran through the air as Billy sliced your corset in half from the back. You stayed perfectly still, trusting him completely to cut the clothing off of you without harming you at all. The moment Billy had cut your corset, he dropped it to the floor and pulled your top off with it.

He immediately lets his hands drop to your breasts, nipples already pebbling from the cool air. He pinches and pulls at them for only a moment before he’s trailing kisses down your stomach.

Bilily stops just above your hip bones, “May I?” he asks, blue eyes peering up at you. “Yes. Billy, please.” You beg him, voice thick with desperation. He chuckles and then rubs his hand over your throbbing clit. He slides one, then two thick fingers into your dripping pussy. A whimper bubbles from your swollen lips as he pulls back to spit on your heat. His fingers curl, digits stretching and scissoring inside you. Your head feels like it’s spinning, arousal leaking from your cunt and down Billy’s fingers. 

Your hips are unable to escape his assault on your g-spot when he pins you down, and you let out a moan you hardly recognize as your own. “Shit, you’re so wet.” His teeth catch his bottom lip as he smiles down at your fucked-out form. 

Billy’s hand never slows, even as he grinds his palm into your poor clit. You cum not long after, waves of pleasure crashing over and drowning you in euphoria. Your body is trembling as you come back to Earth and Billy is there, watching you from between your thighs. He places a kiss on your sensitive clit before he stands back up, towering over you. 

“Please. Fuck me, Billy.” You say through heavy breaths. He feels his head spin at the sound of your voice. 

“Whatever you want, doll.” 

Billy lays you across the couch and crawls over you, leaning back to release his aching cock from the confines of his pants. Saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of him, pre-cum drips from his flushed, red tip.

He fists his cock at the sight of you below him, lips parted and breasts heaving. Billy leans his body over yours, trapping you between him and the cushions below you. You can feel the muscle covering his torso press against your tummy. He ruts his cock through your pussy, the head catching on your clit deliciously. You both moan at the feeling and link your fingers together. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. I’m gonna make you all mine”, Billy coos down at you, searching your face for any hesitance. You nod at him, earning you a keen smile and a quick kiss. “It’s gonna hurt, doll, I’m sorry.” Squeezing his hand, you hold your breath when he lines himself up with your entrance.

You gasp when his tip slips into you, already feeling like he’s split you in two. Salty tears start to well in your lash line at the burn of Billy’s cock stretching you out for the first time. He’s much bigger than you anticipated and you dig your nails into his skin. 

“I know, I know. Just breathe.” He tries his best to comfort you, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your cunt around him. His heart stings at the sight of you crying for reasons other than pleasure, but he can’t help it when his hips buck, pushing himself another inch deeper.

Billy knows he should feel guilty for liking the way you screw your eyes shut, the way your cunt flutters around him even though he’d worked you open already. He’s not even halfway inside you and your legs are trembling around his waist while he holds himself back from pushing in balls-deep. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in his chest at the effect he has on your body. 

Billy’s hand leaves yours and drops to your clit, rubbing tight circles with his thumb. Your mouth opens into an “O” shape and your sloppy cunt grants him another inch.  He can feel the velvet of your walls drawing him deeper, euphoria building in your veins. With every circle drawn, Billy pushes in further and further until he’s finally buried to the hilt. He stills for a moment, letting your cock-drunk mind play catchup with your body. “I’m gonna move, is that ok, doll?”

He pulls out, making you whine at the empty sensation, then, he’s driving his hips forward again. You loop your arms around his neck as he attacks your insides. Any words you have die on your tongue as Billy sets a rough, passionate pace. His tan skin, covered in old and new scars, feels slick against yours as his cock splits your mind in half. You can feel Billy everywhere, you can taste him, touch him, smell him, see him. He’s completely overwhelmed your senses and given you nothing to think about other than him.

The air around you is humid and thick, the scent of sex swimming through it. Billy slips in and out of you with ease, the clear strings of your slick and his pre-cum coat your pussy lips like a gloss. You let your gaze fall on him, watching how his brows furrow with concentration while he molds your insides into the shape of him.

Billy lifts your hips in the air to get an angle that allows him to hit even deeper, pumping his cock into you so hard that the air is forced from your lungs. There’s no one else you could want, no one else who could ever make you feel like this. 

“Shit Billy. I’m so close.” You moan, a familiar warmth starting to coil in your tummy. He nods and slots his lips against yours for one final kiss. His tongue explores your mouth as his dick strikes your g-spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. You cum hard as every nerve in your body is set aflame. His hot, sticky cum floods your walls and leaks from around his cock. 

Silence lies thick in the air aside from your heavy breathing and the soft kisses you share. Billy leans back to peer down at where you’re connected and shakes his head at you. 

He picks you up and places you over his hips, leaning you back. “Can’t waste this, doll.” He tuts at you, gathering the cum leaking from your abused pussy on his tip and pushing it back in. Throwing an arm behind his head, a fucked-out grin crosses his features as you sink down on his cock, letting him rub against your most sensitive spots. A strangled moan sounds in the back of your throat as he slowly pushes back into the deepest parts of your cunt.

His tongue darts out to lick the sweat off of his cupid’s bow, large hands moving to slide down your hips to grab at the fat of your ass. He guides you up and down on him as you babble and cry.

“I’ve got you, doll.” His words send a shiver down your spine and you brace yourself on his broad shoulders. Your cunt flutters around him, “Fuck Billy’-” you cry out.

Billy groans at the sight of a white ring around his shaft, made from a mixture of his and your cum. “So tight… taking me so fuckin’ well.” He bucks his hips, tip grazing your g-spot just right, just enough to make your eyes roll up into your head. “C’mon, doll.”

He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, then captures your lips with his. He swallows every moan and hiccup as he pounds into you, only slowing when you clench impossibly tighter around him. Stars are dancing in your vision and pleasure is burning in your veins. You hear him swear again, he lets his head fall back onto the cushions and plants his boots flat on the floor. You nearly scream as he fucks back up into you. He’s growling something in your ear, but his words sound so far away. 

“Cum on my cock, doll. C’mon, do it. Do it for me.” Billy babbles in your ear as he loses his rhythm, now just slamming his hips into yours with all the force he could muster. Your arms are clinging to his neck and he has you trapped against him. White, hot pleasure hits you like a ton of bricks as you squirm on Billy’s lap. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he pumps his hot, sticky cum into your womb. 

He lays back on the couch, letting you rest against his chest.  With a tender touch, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your hair. His lips lingered for a moment. As he pulled back, his fingers began to stroke your hair slowly, each caress a testament to the unspoken passion that simmered between you.

“From now on, that hat stays on you, doll. Let everyone in town see you belong to me."

send me billy thoughts or requests pleaseee :)

[occamstfs]

Roommates’ Trivial Tiff

Pretty standard nerdy asshole to himbo TF, who doesn't love some cosmic justice ! -Occam

“You just don’t understand what it’s like dude. You have no idea how hard all this stuff is for me.” Brock was struggling to get through to his roommate, someone he has time and time again been more than cordial with. In response Harvey scoffs and rolls his eyes refusing to engage and instead doubling down, “I’m sure it’s real difficult with all your paid tutors and your-” 

“You’re not even listening bro! You like to think you’re so elevated, like you have all the answers but you don’t even try to understand what anyone else is going through.” Harvey grimaces and briefly tosses about whether or not this is true but stubbornly neglects to internalize the criticism, “Uhh, I do too?” Brock bites his tongue to prevent just blowing up at his roommate and instead he tries a different angle, “Oh yeah? If that’s the case then, bet you know a lot about me huh? Since we’ve been roommates for a year now,” pausing as he narrows his eyes briefly at Harvey, “and ostensibly we’re friends right?”

Harvey struggles not to display his ever present irritation as he retorts, “Of course we are, uh, dude.” Brock does a better job hiding his intentions as he issues a challenge, “so if we were to say, quiz each other you think you’d come up on top lil dude?” With this gauntlet laid there is little recourse in Harvey’s mind but to accept it, there are few times he enjoys showing off so much as in a trivia contest. So what he might have a less than pristine record of respecting oafs like his roommate, he is certainly not to lose in any battle of the wits regardless of topic or stipulations there may be.

Brock puts out his hand and states the stakes, “You can of course bow out whenever, but uh, how about every question the winner takes something from the loser?” Harvey was resolved to win before hearing the terms and is now spitefully even more eager now as he eyes Brock’s side of the room looking for whatever his prize is sure to be.

Without any further clarification Brock promptly launches into the game, “I guess we’ll start real easy yeah? Only fair.” Harvey feels resentment start to brew as he feels he’s being talked down to as Brock goes on, “For starters then, What’s my major?” Harvey audibly gulps and feels his face blanche as he scrambles to find such an incredibly simple answer. This is such an obvious and pressing piece of information it would be impossible not to have it on deck.

Seeing the hesitation Brock laughs incredulously, “God dude are you kidding? How could you not know this, I-” He shifts his jaw waiting for the second shoe to drop as it is suddenly clear he is about to clean house, this asshole is going to learn respect by hook or by crook. Harvey’s eyes that were just hungrily looking through Brock’s possessions now retread their path, searching for the answer, his eyes linger on some sports bandages and protein powder and he kicks himself for forgetting. “Well duh dude, you’re doing a sports medicine or a trainer degree or whatever. Sorry that I forgot what the proper name is, it’s not exactly high in the list of things I need to know.”

Brock stares down at the clueless nerd before him and slowly shakes his head. “Not even close Harv. It’s-” Before he can finish though Harvey stands and shouts, “Don’t fucking call me that! I bet you don’t know mine either!” This leaves Brock aghast, he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Of course I fucking do! You never shut up about it! I’m lucky if my headphones can block out you whining about homework while also constantly talking yourself up! It’s so, fucking, annoying!”

Hurt by this despite his typical apathy to others Harvey starts up once more, “Okay but you didn’t say-” “Computer Engineering.” Harvey blushes in shame, not over his disrespect but of getting the question wrong. Suddenly there’s a hum in the room and the shadows in the corner grow darker and Brock looks around, “Well I suppose that question really tees me up on what to take huh? I’ll take your major.”

“Wha?” caught on the other foot Harvey blinks and sees that his textbooks and assignments are suddenly piled on Brock’s desk. He feels anxiety rise in his chest unsure of what has happened though confident this must be a prank or something. “No no no that can’t be right? What is happening?” He then returns to look at his roommate once more, a scowl plastered on his face as Brock who, despite his impressive stature always aims to present as kind and gentle, cannot help but smirk as he feels he has gotten one over on this jerk.

He stretches, exposing his midriff and flexing  his arms behind his head, perhaps to try and allure or intimidate Harvey, he’s not sure, but Harvey is not going to just take this sitting down.Though at the present, he is too uncomfortable to even vocalize his discomfort as he stands there trying not to shake. Instead Brock begins once more, “Urgh kinda see what all that complaining was about now Harv, kinda got a lot on my plate now hah!”

Harvey stares daggers at his roommate, “Brock I don’t know what kind of nonsense is going through your dumbass ox brain. But it’s not funny, I’m sure you’re used to bullying little g-”

“Excuse me? I’m a bully!? I know you’re not saying that, I go out of my way to be kind, even to little chip on their shoulder assholes like you. I just,” Brock takes a deep breath and flexes his jaw before he continues. “It doesn’t matter actually. I trust you have a vested interest in trying again though right? Surely you want your major back?”

At the moment Harvey is caught between the idea that this is some kind of Christmas Carol-ass dream where he’s supposed to learn a lesson or once more that this is just a prank by Brock. Amenable as he’s always been, Harvey's convinced that behind this lunkhead is the vitriol of the typical jerk jock. In this impossible chance that this is reality though, he can’t just give up his major. He needs it to be an, uh? God what was, no what is his major anyway? 

Harvey looks around in shock as he suddenly can’t bring his current course schedule to his mind, but he was literally in class this morning right? He feels his coursework draining from his mind as fear and rage begin to rise in his frail body. Images of lecture halls and professors flash through his mind before they just as swiftly dissipate, somewhere within him deeper than memory he feels that he was studying something with numbers. Mathematics, physics, engineering, something he was good at. He is determined to get that back as he speaks up finally, “What is the next question.”

Brock smiles and toys around in his head, confident that he will end up on top. “How about you pick this one, give you a fighting chance.” Harvey purses his lips and struggles to produce a question that he knows the answer to that his roommate will not. Oh duh, he’ll just ask him a math question, easy! Certainly not the aim of the game but Harvey just needed to get his life back. “What’s a derivative.” 

“Kinda not in the spirit of the game dude but whatever. I took calc you know. It’s the rate of change in response to a variable. Now since you’re still being an ass how about I lob one back? How about you derivative 𝑓(����)= 2cos⁡(𝑥)−6sec⁡(𝑥)+3?” Harvey is flat stunned, this is some entry level shit but he cannot for the life of him bring the information to mind. He’s just as sharp as he always has been but anything beyond rudimentary trig is continuing to trickle out of his mind. He meekly chuckles out, “uh easy, it’s f(x) equals, uh tan-”

There’s a blaring in his head as both men are aware of his immediate slip up. Energy once more rises in the air as Brock looks down almost pitifully at his roommate this time. “Now I am sorry for this Harvey but, oof that course load! Like you so relish to say, I am just not that bright hm?” Harvey shakes his head as he realizes the horror about to occur. Brock looks a little uncomfortable as he continues, “After failing to pull your little gotcha, I think I’ll just go ahead and have your intelligence.” 

Both men are instantly struck with headaches the likes of which neither could endure under normal circumstances. As soon as the pain arrives though it is converted into a deep profane pleasure. Pins and needles fill Brock’s mind as it becomes heavy. Ideas and understanding fill his mind as a euphoric warmth flows through him. Harvey had enjoyed learning without truly lifting a finger, he had flourished and gained knowledge through no effort on his part but simple absorption. Brock is overcome with the ease at which he will now flow through life. Equally is he overcome by the ecstasy within his body as it only continues to heighten.

Opposite him Harvey clutches at his head as now not only do his learned experiences at university vanish, but all of his capabilities as a student and academic. Even the pleading within his mind slows down as he feels his ability to swiftly process information breaks down. Harvey turns from the man across from him as Brock’s hands feel up and down his musculature in rapturous delight, just in time to see whatever books and tomes he had collected as trophies begin to fade into the aether along with his memories of reading them. He looks down at his hands in confusion and horror, even with his unaddled mind at full steam he could not make sense of what has befallen him. He knows this is not right.

He is unable to find any answers, though as he searches his brain he begins to find a pleasant warmth in the vacuum where there once was knowledge. While his mind has been emptied, the bulge in his crotch demands his attention, which shall likely be a constant issue now that his mind shall evermore be less than preoccupied. He feels his mouth start to fill with drool as he looks down at his cock as it almost feels larger than it should be. He almost laughs at the idea that from now on he may fully be thinking with his cock. He opens his mouth allowing drool to spill out which shocks him back to sense and he turns around to demand that Brock return this all to sense immediately.

Brock for his part is reclined in a chair just rubbing his cock over his shorts almost forgetting about what they had been doing not seconds earlier. He laughs as he sees the expression on Harvey’s face, “Woah dude sorry about that, got lost in my own mind for a second there! No wonder you had, or have rather, such an attitude problem. It all just came so easy to you didn’t it? I mean we could keep going if you want, what else do you have to lose yeah?” Harvey wipes the drool from his face and takes stock, he can still read, he is pretty confident he still passed high school, he remembers his life before whatever hell is currently happening as well as whatever this new reality is. He nods his head and pushes his erection down as it continues to rise upon seeing his roommate’s cocky repose. He answers, “let’s keep going. Your question right?”

Harvey can’t help but trace Brock’s traps as he shrugs, “If you insist lil bro. What’s my middle name?” He knows this one for sure, he would bring it out to tease his roommate as needed. Brock slams his arm down in excitement and shouts, “fucking Laurel!” then he recalls this is only half the battle, Brock must also get his wrong, “what’s mine?” Brock smirks once more and laughs as he stretches to scratch his back, his roommate hungrily staring, “you don’t have one dude”

The energy rushing between the two men is drastically different this time. Unlike the pleasurable prickles of knowledge or the soothing burn of loss there is a direct, deeper connection between the two. Brock’s grin grows wider as understands, “Oh I getcha, question’s a tie so we share the spoils Harv. Only fair that since you’ve the mind of a what, meathead? May as well have the body of one.”

Harvey watches as his roommate takes off his shirt, he feels a warmth in his chest as he stares directly at Brock’s pecs. His breath catches as he watches his roommate flex them and he feels a nervous energy begin to surge within his own. He’s never had pecs before but he feels his chest pushing, growing, into his shirt. He sees his nipples harden and grow too large to ever hide as his chest expands. His swallows to stop from drooling once more as he sees Brock pose and flex his massive biceps, forcing a burning delight down the whole of Harvey’s arms. He matches the pose of the powerful man he has spoken nothing but ill of and flexes, sweat immediately staining through his shirt as the energy and strain heats his body beyond reason.

At the same time both men drop into a crunch, there is a loud tear as the pants of both men tear as they reach the lowest point in the crunch as Harvey’s ass bursts larger and his thighs swell with strength well enough to carry his increasingly top heavy torso. Not only is Harvey to gain the muscle of a tight jock, but the masculinity expected. The cock he has been til now proud enough of pulses with his heartbeat, with each pump it gorges larger, veins thick as the ones surging down his biceps force his cock thicker and further down his strained shorts. He tears at his pants to free his bulge as his balls bloat to the size of eggs, they pull tight ass they’re exposed to the air and all the soreness, strain, and pain of his still growing body becomes agonizing delight.

Harvey’s eyes water as he struggles to even stay cogent with the pleasure and power coursing through him. He smells his new musk breaking through his senses. Through the burning bedlam across his body he feels a soothing burn as hair begins to sprout and thicken where every man should make clear his masculinity. His pubes thicken and curl beyond his waistline and his pits grow wild and begin to spread to make it clear they, nor his musk, can ever be contained.

He lies, sits, writhes, flexes, exists in nothing but pleasure for some time, no longer concerned for his lost intelligence, beyond the care of his education. His hands, larger and painted with still thickening hair, press tight against his body as he feels the new contours of his body. Each new valley and mountain is a testament to the ecstasy he shall now prioritize above all. Until his roommate’s voice breaks through the haze, “Fuck bro you’re really feeling yourself huh?” Harvey’s eyes open to see Brock’s arrogant sneer has only grown worse as he has contendly watch Harvey lavish his new corpus.

Harvey meets it with a scowl and Brock tilts his head, “Want to do one last question then, bro?” His smile grows tight as he tries not to laugh as the appellation of bro has become the paramount definition of this once genius. Harvey just nods his head, still understandably disoriented as he lies in a pool of his own sweat and pre that remains dripping directly onto the floor. Brock motions for him to ask whatever the presumably final question is but is met with a grunt and a wave of the hand. Brock grimaces slightly, “if you insist bud,” he grimaces slightly as he looks down at the man. Asshole he may have be, may still be even, surely there’s something Brock could do to fix even that. He leans to whisper the question in Harvey’s ear, “what color are my eyes.” 

Between grunts, Harvey strains to look at his roommate only to find them obviously closed. His body contorts with pain and pleasure as he feels the throes of defeat and one final lose begin to seize him. He groans out through clenched teeth as his jaw widens and his brows thicken as changes already begin to work upon his mind, “don’t… know…” Brock nods and sits next to his roommate laying Harvey’s head on his lap. At the point it would be a kindness for the man to forget his life before, and that is exactly what he is to do. 

Brock removes the memories and identity of the sour nerd that made life perpetually unpleasant not only for him, but anyone unlucky enough to grace his presence. His breathing speeds up as his body heat rises beyond imagination, sweat turning to steam in the cold dorm room as he shakes his head and clenches his fists. He writhes only briefly, each flex of his body a final protestation of Harvey as Brock erases even his name from his head. 

After a minute of this his body goes still before he opens his eyes blearily and groans. Still lying in Brock’s lap he stretches his arms, turning to smell his impossibly rank pits before turning it into a flex as he must do anytime he raises them. Brock watches this with trepidation, unsure of who exactly his roommate is to be now before suddenly a name surges into his mind, Bull. Perfect fodder for the jerk he once was and an apt name for the behemoth lying on his lap. Testing the waters Brock pats his chest to wake him up, “Morning Bull.”

He yawns and scratches at the same stubbled face he has always known and he sits up, “urgh got a massive headache bro, must have gone pretty hard to have a hangover this bad huhuh! Wanna go grab brekkie and hit up the gym?” Brock stifles a smirk and helps his roommate up to standing, slightly surprised to see him standing taller than himself before responding, “You got it big guy, how about you get some clothes on first though right?” Bull guffaws, looking down at his hairy sweat-drenched body as he throws an arm around his roommate, cock bobbing around in the open air, still chubbed up. “What would I do without you bro huhuh!” 

Brock looks to see all of Bull’s tops have changed to stringers and tanks. Where Harvey had nothing but pants Bull has piles of unwashed athletic shorts, one of which he promptly throws on, going commando. Seeing Brock watch him, Bull grabs at his crotch and juts at the door, “Come on bro! Faster we get a pump in faster we can get back here and have some fun dude.” 

With that Bull again throws his arm around Brock, once more smelling his b.o. as he almost deliberately spreads it on his roommate’s neck, like an animal marking its territory. The two then off to start their day, in Bull’s mind as they always have. Brock feels his crotch grow weightier as the amble down the hall, unsure if he’s made a horrible mistake in all this. Who is he to say what is too far in acts of cosmic retribution. Brock is certain at the end of the day he and Bull are at least to have quite a bit of fun.

[beardysuits]

Closer to Dad

Tim, a scrawny and pathetic idea of a son wants to get closer to his dad. However, with nothing in common, he finds it will be a lot easier to just take over his uncle to be able to spend some time with his old man.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I can’t remember the first time I felt like I just didn’t match the expectations set out for me. Honestly it’s been for as long as I can remember. My dad had always wanted for me to be this strong football player who could throw a punch, catch a ball, knock a guy to the ground with ease. But, I couldn’t even finish a season of T ball, delved into fantasy books, and well, ever since I was at least 6, knew that I was gay. 

My dad however, wasn’t too keen on how I had turned out. It wasn’t outright homophobia, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes when I would quit another team sport, or couldn’t do a pull up. I tried to relate to him as best as I could, trying to share my own interests, but I could see his eyes glaze over at every attempt. It seemed like he would find every excuse he could to join my Uncle Rob to go fishing, see a game, etc. Rob lived just down the street, so he would frequently come by to see my dad and watch a game in my dad’s man cave. I joined them a few times, but got bored very quickly every time, and honestly, dad seemed more annoyed to even have me there.

It was after years of trying to just talk to and relate to my dad, and seeing him only want to do that to his brother that I grew to become pretty jealous. I just wanted the relationship that Rob had with him. That was when I started to see how I could possibly achieve that. I always loved fantasy books, but by the time I hit my teenage years, it was magic specifically I wanted to really do research on. I thought I could transform myself into the dream jock son my dad wanted, or force him to like what I liked. But something that really caught my eye was the idea of body possession.

See, Rob was the kind of guy my dad liked to hang around, and the kind of guy I wanted to be. He was muscular, beefy, with a thick dark mustache that just oozed masculinity. My dad was in a similar camp, being a past athlete, but had let himself go a little bit in the past 20 something years. I thought, it would be even harder to make a connection with my dad, than it would be to just take over somebody who already did that for me. I had scoured all over the archive of books I had found in musty old shops until I found not a spell, but a potion which could help me. 

It required a lot of items which I wasn’t sure how to even find, but after months of scouring and plenty of determination, I had brewed it. Now, the only thing left to do was hope that it would work. It was early Sunday morning, before the sun had even risen when I decided to make my move. It was going to be another game day for my dad and Rob’s favorite team, so Rob was sure to come by later, and hopefully, it would be me along for the ride. Rob’s house was only a ten minute walk from ours, and I knew exactly where the hide-a-key was. 

After unlocking the door, I crept up the stairs to Rob’s bedroom, and lucky for me, the door was already wide open. I was stunned to see Rob laid out on the bed, full naked and exposed. I had seen most of Rob’s body before on lake trips or when he got too drunk with my dad. But this… this was amazing. He bushy armpits were on full display, and the treasure trail of hair stemming from his burly chest led to a mountain of fur which rested right above his girth cock. Even soft, it was thick and hung to the side, larger than mine probably could even hope to be. 

I could feel myself licking my lips as I crept in to the bedroom, my heart racing in fear of any noise awakening him. It was once I was standing at the foot of his bed, I let out a large sigh of anxiety and began to strip down. Unfortunately, the potion required for me to be completed naked so I could slither my way into Rob’s body. As I stood there naked, I looked down at myself and saw my lanky frame, practically showcasing each of my ribs, my arms holding barely any substance besides skin and bone. I took out the vial of potion I had brewed and uncorked. Slathering myself with it, I could see my skin becoming slicker and shine. The final bit was my head, as I coated myself in the slime. 

I cleared my eyes, hoping I could see more clearly as I shook the nerves off. Leaning on Rob’s bed, I crept up to his legs and used my finger to find his hole. I figured this would be the easiest form of entry, as the mouth would most likely wake him up too early. I couldn’t even hear Rob’s snoring anymore, only the pounding of my heart as I began to lube up his hole with my middle finger and softly press the tip inside. Rob snorted, freezing me in place. I looked up over his belly rising and falling, seeing his eyes still closed. 

I pushed further my finger sliding in almost effortlessly by the time my knuckle had gone in. Becoming more brave, I tried the same with my index finger, this one going in even easier. I introduced more and more of my fingers into Rob’s hole, stretching it out like it was a rubber band. Rob made no indication that he even noticed the penetration happening to him. Soon enough, my entire hand was inside, and I could feel the warmth of Rob’s body encompass it. I was becoming impatient, wanting to finally get all of myself in Rob. I took my other hand and hooked my fingers round the edge, stretching him out. 

I could see inside of Rob, like he was nothing more inside but a dark, damp cavern for me plunge myself into, and I was ready to dive. This was the part I was most nervous about. I hyped myself up, taking a few short breaths, before shoving the crown of my head in. I held my breath, not sure if I would even be able to breathe until the process was over. Soon enough, my whole head was inside, and I had to find a way to maneuver my hands to slide them in alongside. After a bit of wriggling, my arms up to my shoulders were inside, leaving behind the imagery of my body from the chest down hanging outside of Rob’s hole. 

It was pitch black, and felt just as humid and wet as I had anticipated. I found that with difficulty, I could still breathe somewhat, but clawed myself forward, making sure to not hurt Rob in the process. Without the help of my hands, Rob’s hole had tightened once more and I struggled to pull more of myself inside. Surprisingly, what I found to the hardest part, no pun intended, was getting my own cock inside of him. I had become rock hard at this point, and given how slippery I was, and with little grip to go off of, I had to force it down to slip inside.

Once it had, I had almost cum just from the rush of sensation as Rob’s warmth overtook my dick. The rest of my body should be easy at this point, as I shimmied myself upward until the only draft I could feel left was on the soles of my feet. I had balled myself up trying to make sure all of myself could fit, but once Rob’s hole had clenched once more, I found myself encapsulated by him. It as almost cozy, and I could feel Rob’s heartbeat surrounding myself, still blissfully asleep. I could only assume that the potion had numbed him as well, making him entirely unaware of his nephew lodged deep inside of him. 

I had to work quickly though, as I had no idea how long he would stay asleep. That, and I wanted so desperately to feel his hands become mine, his powerful legs, and his massive cock to slide over mine. I adjusted my feet, squirming them down Rob’s like they were a pair of leggings. Despite how much weight he had on me, it was a tight squeeze getting each toe into place. I could almost feel them lock into place as the individual digits took hold. I did the same for the other leg, and despite not being able to see anything, knew they had taken hold. 

My arms were next, reaching out as best as I could to place each of my scrawny, withering fingers into Rob’s thick ones. Despite being almost half a foot shorter than him, it was like my body had elongated to fit into his perfectly. Thankfully with Rob’s arms raised in relaxation, all I had to stretch up like I was reaching for a pull up bar. My chest locked into place shortly after and all that was left was my head. I said goodbye to my old self, not sure how long I would be staying inside of Rob, and pushed my head upwards, feeling a tightness as his neck squeezed around me. 

I felt my scalp reach his, but it was like a barrier blocked my face when I tried to push it forward. After maneuvering around a bit, I found what felt like the inside of Rob’s nose, and pushed mine into it. It was easy to find the spots at which his eyes were, but my mouth struggled. I could feel something thick in front of my mouth and I used my tongue to feel it out, as no other part of my body could be used anymore. It was then I realized it was Rob’s tongue stopping me. I tried to position it the same way I had with the other limbs and found it was almost like a glove. I slipped my tongue inside of it, like my own was using Rob’s as a sock. 

The moment the tip of my tongue reached his, it was like my body wasn’t mine anymore. Rather, Rob’s was. My first instinct was to open my eyes, and upon doing so, I was looking up at his bedroom ceiling. (NSFW Version Here)

I looked around without moving a muscle and took in the view. There was no way this was real, right? I mean, I literally slathered myself into Rob….? I moved my arms, finding them almost falling in a rush with the added weight I wasn’t used to. I forced them up, feeling my chest and tracing my fingers through the dense forrest of hair Rob had proudly shown off so many times before. 

“Whoa…” I uttered, before slapping one of my hands over my new mouth. I sounded just like Rob! I cleared my throat and tried again.

“Testing, testing,” I spoke, the familiar baritone of Rob’s voice rumbling in my throat. 

“Holy shiiiiitttt….” I hissed, loving the sound, manipulating Rob to say whatever I wanted. It was so fucking hot, forcing him to my will. I could feel my dick pulsing in my… stomach? I glanced down and practically jumped off the bed when I saw that Rob’s cock was still limp to the side, while the imprint of a throbbing cock was pushed against my stomach. 

“What the fuck!” I yelled out, my hand shaking as I reached down and poked at it. The moment my finger touched the imprint, I felt a shiver of pleasure mix with the panic as it coursed through me. That was definitely my dick still not joined with Rob’s. Fuck me! What do I even do about that. I took a few deep breaths, trying not to let the panic overtake me. I took a trembling hand, and grabbed my cock, seeing if I could move it. Sure enough, it still slide around, like it was inside of me just below the skin. 

Cautiously, I pushed it downwards, grabbing Rob’s dick with my other hand. Okay, I had practiced putting on condoms before when bored, how much different could this be? I pushed my own dick downward and guided it through to the base of Rob’s. After poking around it, I found what felt like an opening and pushing it forward. My own bulge pushed through Rob’s, forcing it to harden and grow. It felt fucking amazing, like I was…. I don’t know, fucking myself? 

After pushing my dick as far as I could, Rob’s cock was at full mast, and instinctively I knew they had assimilated. It was a rush of ecstasy as I I could see Rob’s dick at full mast, even thicker and longer than I could have ever dreamed. I was gripping it with his, I mean, my name hands. It was beat red, and what I assumed was my precut dribbling down the shaft. I pumped my hand up and down, moaning to myself, getting loader with each stroke. 

Holy shit I was jerking off as Rob! I sat up to get a better look at myself and noticed the wall mirror across the bed from me. I had a front row view of Rob as he looked himself in the eye and pumped his fully erect dick. In the reflection, I could see a glistening around his hole. Some of the potion must have still been left behind. I used my other hand to grab a small glob of it and lathered up my dick. It was so fucking slick and my hands glided over it. I felt phenomenal, stroking my dick, pinching at my new nipples, and panting at myself. I stuck my tongue out and begged with my eyes, asking to please let myself cum. 

I reached the end, and felt a blast of cum rush out from my new balls and sprayed myself in a thick coating which must have been a combination of Rob’s and mine. It was like I was lathered up all over again as I let my hand drop to my side and admired the view of my once strong armed and militant uncle lay there drenched in his own cum. I rested my head back and sighed in relief, loving the feeling of the new me. I hoped that I could stay like this forever. 

The possession must have taken longer than I realized though, as the sunrise was almost complete, the beams of sunlight making me shine even more. I stood up, almost falling over with my new weight. It was going to take some getting used to. Rob had left a towel by the side of his bed, and I wiped myself off, not bothering to shower. I was going to have plenty of time with this body for that later. I walked over to the pile of clothes I had ditched when I got here and the satchel I left behind. In it was a bright pink jockstrap with a silky finish in the pouch. 

When I knew I was going to possess Rob, I made sure to buy this for myself in what I hoped was the right size. I stepped in, almost falling over once again, and slid the pouch over my knew balls. It fit perfectly, a the silky finish of the fabric was like a second, or rather third, skin. I stood in front of the mirror once more and admired my body, flexing for myself, sniffing my new armpits, and jangling my bulge. I had to leave for my dad’s place here in a bit, so I found a pair of jeans Rob probably never washes, and a jersey of his and my dad’s favorite team. After I had dressed myself, I did one more look over in the mirror. 

“Hey Jim, how’s my lil bro doing?” I asked, trying to imitate Rob to the best of my ability. That part was going to be rather difficult, but I think I’d manage. With one final wink, I picked up Rob’s keys and laughed my way out the door. 

[heauxvibez]

..Is Mine..

warning: smut (+18) ...umm can we talk about the gif above...whew chile...anywaysss the people have voted and ya'll wanted this! It's a part 2 to Jealous, just a different pov : ). Enjoy!

So... Tell me that, that pussy is mine... Yeah... Tell me, tell me baby It's all mine Yeah...

"Will you stop walking away from me and let me talk to you!" The door slammed shut behind me, punctuating the tension between us.

Our ride home had turned into a heated exchange, the playful banter now replaced by a tense argument.

He stumbled up the stairs, each step heavy with frustration, the door shuddering as he forcefully closed and locked it.

"Dammit Joe, open the damn door. If anyone is going to storm off from a conversation dramatically and slam doors, it will be me!" My voice echoed through the closed door, my irritation evident in every word.

I gave up, the sound of the TV being turned up made it known that not only was he not up to talking but he also wasn't up to listening.

Rolling my eyes, I turned to leave, until a small click and a creaking door stopped me in my tracks.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I watch you flirt with countless women all the time, and I never ever disrespect you the way you're disrespecting m—" Before I could finish, I was pressed against the wall, a sharp gasp escaping my lips as pain shot through me.

My right hand was now pinned above my head, trapped in his firm grip, while the other pressed against his chest in a pathetic attempt to halt the inevitable. His piercing brown eyes bore into mine with a magnetic passion, delving deep into the depths of my soul. With every breath, the air filled with tension, the weight of his gaze leaving me breathless and in an unshakable trance.

His fingers coiled around my neck, exerting a gentle pressure that almost sent me down to my knees. At this point, my body is quivering with need.

"Shh..just..just stop t-talking." He stuttered, a brief pause punctuating his struggle for composure, his head tilting back slightly as if seeking refuge from what was brewing within him. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips while a deep exhale escaped through flared nostrils, a telltale sign of his effort to remain composed. I could sense the temper trying to rise beneath the surface, almost as if there was an intense battle between his restraint and lust playing out internally.

"N-no," I stammered, my brain scattered, torn between wanting to submit to him and standing my ground. Every nerve in my body tingled, yet I couldn't allow myself to give in so easily. It drove me mad that he held such power over me, a power that I both craved and resented.

He shook his head, at my defiance, his eyes smoldering with a determination to put me in my place. With a swift motion, his hand seized the hem of my sundress, tugging it upwards until it pooled at my waist, granting him unrestricted access to the part of me that throbbed for his skilled fingers.

I quivered as his fingertips danced with featherlight caresses along the delicate fabric covering my heated core. My juices seeped through my panties and onto his fingers like a magnetic pull.

"I hope Jimmy didn't get you this wet," he teased, his voice coated with playful seduction as he continued to tease me through my panties. Succumbing to the touch of his fingers, I arched against the wall, a symphony of soft whimpers escaping my parted lips.

I felt Roman's smirk against my neck, the sensation sending goosebumps all over while his breath ghosted over my skin.

"Of course he did," I confessed with a coy smile, letting the thrill of our forbidden game wash over me, each whispered word feeding his anger.

He growled before tossing me onto the bed. I couldn't help but giggle as I propped myself up on my elbows, but he didn't seem to think anything was funny.

His gaze was intense, darker than usual, and his features contorted into a fierce expression that could've fucked me on its own. Perhaps I shouldn't have provoked him. Oops.

With his continued predatory glare, he closed the distance between us, his head descending between my parted thighs. In one swift motion, he tore my panties in half, discarding them without a second thought. And oh, the way he teased me, it was a delicious torture, each touch making me yearn for more.

His focus lingered on my outer lips, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing bites. While he occasionally delved deeper, penetrating me with his tongue, my clit throbbed with a need for more attention. Desperate for release, I grasped at the sheets, my hips arching in a silent plea for friction against my pearl.

"Joe, please, just eat me already," I moaned, the urgency in my voice didn't make him budge as I begged for him to satisfy the ache within me.

He chuckled softly against my pussy, relishing in the sound of my gasp before responding, his fingers sliding effortlessly into my slick heat, claiming me with ease. I melted into his touch completely, now under his possession as he exerted his dominance over me.

My breath hitched, becoming erratic as he pleasured me. With such a slowness, his fingers moved in and out of me, each stroke grazing my g spot. I could've sworn his fingers were in my stomach. His tongue, a welcome intrusion, teased my dripping folds as his fingers worked along my velvety walls.

"Tell me, baby. Tell me it's mine," he demanded his voice a deep baritone that sent intense vibrations coursing through my body. He looked up at me, his eyes smoldering as he snatched my soul.

"Oh, fuck, baby," I panted, my orgasm on the brink. This one was going to consume me entirely.

"It's all yours," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper.

He withdrew his fingers, leaving me momentarily bereft. But before I could voice my protest, he forcefully spread my legs wider, his tongue plunging deep inside me with a hunger that mirrored my own. It was as if he was determined to devour me, to claim every part of me from the inside out as his own.

My hands instinctively found his head, urging him deeper. My eyelids fluttered shut, my world narrowing to the sensation of his tongue swirling and thrusting within me, his lips capturing my clit with soft slurps and gentle kisses.

I unraveled in his embrace, my body shaking uncontrollably with the intensity of my release. The sheets were no match against the grip I had on them. He set every nerve ending ablaze with ecstasy as he continued drinking me up. He moaned against my pussy catching every single drop it had to offer. He loved the way I tasted.

Running my fingers through his hair, I struggled to catch my breath as I basked in the aftermath of my climax.

"That's right, my love. It's. All. Mine," he murmured between tender kisses..

Tell me, tell me baby It's all mine...

-----------------

Whew, he could be mad at me all he wants..

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginaswanmills @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx

[wendsky]

birthday disaster

wednesday addams x !outcast!fem!reader

a birthday surprise for your girlfriend turns out to be a disaster.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stood in the middle of your shared dorm room, eyeing the decorations with nervous anticipation. Bright strings of lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting colorful glows across the room, and a small banner that read "Happy Birthday, Wednesday!" hung over the window. It was simple but heartfelt, something you had agonized over for days. Parties weren’t Wednesday’s thing—you knew that. But when you mentioned wanting to do something special for her, Enid had enthusiastically jumped in to help you plan. She assured you that Wednesday, despite her stoic nature, would appreciate the effort.

But now, as you finished setting up the last of the small black cupcakes (because no birthday party for Wednesday could ever be without some shade of darkness), you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at your gut.

Enid walked in, beaming. "Wow, this place looks amazing! Wednesday’s going to love it, I’m sure of it!"

You forced a smile, trying to let her energy lift your spirits. "I hope so. She’s… not exactly the party type."

"True," Enid chirped, grabbing one of the cupcakes and taking a bite, "but it’s her birthday. And when you’re in a relationship, sometimes you have to let the other person spoil you a little, right? She’ll get it."

You nodded, but the doubts still lingered. Wednesday wasn’t like anyone else. She was unique, complex, and hard to read—qualities that had drawn you to her in the first place. But those same qualities made moments like this feel uncertain.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and there she was—Wednesday Addams. Dressed in her usual black attire, her dark braids falling over her shoulders, she stepped into the room. Her eyes flicked to the decorations, then to you, her expression unreadable.

"Happy birthday," you said softly, feeling suddenly small under her steady gaze.

Wednesday stared at the banner, the lights, the cupcakes, and then at you. "What… is this?"

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up. "I thought we could celebrate a little, just us and Enid. It’s your birthday, and I wanted to make it special for you."

Her eyes lingered on the decorations, her lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing for a long moment, and the silence hung in the air like a weight. Finally, she nodded, though her expression remained distant. "How thoughtful."

The words were polite, but they lacked her usual warmth or any excitement, and you felt a twinge of unease.

Enid, ever the optimist, took the lead, dragging Wednesday further into the room to look at the food and games she had helped set up. You tried to join in, but something in Wednesday’s posture told you she wasn’t enjoying any of this. Her responses were curt, and she barely glanced at the cupcakes you had painstakingly decorated with tiny skulls. It was like watching a storm brewing—dark, silent, and inevitable.

The party carried on for about an hour before Wednesday stepped away to talk to Enid near the window. You were busy cleaning up some stray cupcake crumbs when you overheard their conversation.

"I fail to see the point of this," Wednesday said, her voice low but audible enough for you to hear.

Enid, ever cheerful, responded with a laugh. "It’s just for fun, Wednesday. Your girlfriend worked really hard to make this special for you."

"Yes, and I appreciate the effort," Wednesday replied, her tone cool, "but I do not enjoy frivolous activities like this. I find them a waste of time."

You froze. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest, the air seeming to leave the room. She wasn’t enjoying it. Everything you’d done, all the careful planning, the decorations, the cupcakes—it was all pointless to her.

You turned away, not wanting to hear any more. The party that had already felt fragile now crumbled completely in your heart. You had wanted to make her happy, to give her something special on her birthday, but you had failed.

Without a word, you slipped out of the room, leaving Enid and Wednesday behind. The chill of the hallway felt like a slap to the face as you made your way outside, seeking solace in the quiet night. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to feel this hurt, but you couldn’t help it.

For the next few days, you found yourself pulling away from Wednesday. You still saw her, of course—Nevermore wasn’t big enough for you to avoid her entirely—but you avoided long conversations, made excuses to leave early, and kept your emotions tightly locked away. The distance between you grew, but Wednesday, in her usual obliviousness to social cues, didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care.

Until one day, she did.

It had been nearly a week since the failed birthday party when Wednesday finally cornered you in the library, her sharp gaze locking onto you as you tried to avoid her.

"You’ve been avoiding me," she stated bluntly, stepping closer.

You flinched at her directness but didn’t deny it. "I’ve been busy."

"Lying does not suit you," Wednesday said, her eyes narrowing. "What’s going on?"

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "Why do you care? You didn’t care when I tried to do something nice for you."

Wednesday’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes darkened with realization. "This is about the birthday party."

You stared at the bookshelves, unable to meet her gaze. "I heard what you said to Enid. About how it was a waste of time."

There was a long silence, and when Wednesday finally spoke, her voice was quieter than usual. "I never intended for you to hear that."

"Well, I did," you snapped, the hurt you’d been holding back pouring out now. "I worked so hard to make it special for you, even though I knew parties weren’t your thing. I just wanted you to feel appreciated, but you didn’t care."

Wednesday didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she stood there, her mind clearly working through what you had said. Her expression softened, ever so slightly, as she stepped closer to you.

"I am not accustomed to… celebrations," she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "But I did not mean to hurt you."

You looked up at her, eyes searching her face for any sign of sincerity. "It felt like you didn’t care."

Wednesday’s gaze met yours, and for the first time, you saw something in her eyes you hadn’t seen before—regret. "I may not understand why people enjoy such activities, but that does not mean I do not appreciate the effort you put into it."

The tension in your chest eased slightly, but the hurt was still there. "Then why didn’t you say anything?"

"I didn’t know how," she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I don’t express emotions like you do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice how much you cared."

You were silent for a moment, processing her words. Wednesday’s emotions had always been difficult to read, buried beneath layers of sarcasm and stoicism. But now, standing so close to her, you could see the truth in her eyes.

"I’m sorry," she said, and those two words were more sincere than anything you had ever heard from her.

Your heart softened, the walls you had built up over the past few days slowly crumbling. You sighed, the tension leaving your body. "I just wanted you to feel special on your birthday."

Wednesday reached out, her cool hand gently brushing against yours. "You did."

And in that moment, you realized that even though Wednesday wasn’t one for grand gestures or traditional affection, she did care—in her own, quiet, dark way.

You squeezed her hand, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Next year, we can skip the party. I’ll just get you a nice, grim murder mystery novel."

Wednesday’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "That would be preferable."

And just like that, the silence between you two was filled again—not with words, but with understanding.

a/n: i had this in the drafts for abit, hopefully this is a good read.

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Stirring the Quiet - Tangled Thoughts, Clear Hearts

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: Days have passed since the run-in with Jenna's friends, and Y/N is still reeling from the unexpected "grilling." With the fall festival next weekend, there's excitement but nerves, too. Amid taco nights and family teasing, Y/N's mind keeps circling back to Jenna and where things might be headed. But just when Y/N thinks they’ve got it figured out, a simple text from Jenna hints at something more—if Y/N's ready to take the leap.

Word Count: 3.8k

The familiar chime of keys jingling in my hand as I unlocked the doors to The Daily Grind felt like the start of any other morning. Wilma and I stepped inside, the café still bathed in the soft, early morning glow. It was peaceful, calm—before the chaos of the day began.

Wilma flicked on the lights and headed straight for the kitchen. “I’ll start on the pastries. You got the coffee?”

I nodded, already moving toward the espresso machine. “On it.”

The morning routine was easy, familiar. It helped distract me from the whirlwind of thoughts that had been swirling in my head since the run-in with Emma and Melissa. I knew why they’d grilled me that day—testing my character, sizing me up to make sure I wasn’t playing games with Jenna. The whole thing still made me laugh a little, now that the intensity of it had passed.

But still, it left an impression.

Wilma popped her head out of the kitchen, eyeing me as I spaced out again. “You good? You’re staring off into space like you’re waiting for something to happen.”

I shook myself out of it. “Yeah, just thinking about the other day.”

Wilma raised an eyebrow. “You mean when Emma Myers and Melissa Barrera came in? You still stuck on that?”

“Kind of,” I admitted, pausing to lean against the counter. “I know they were testing me. You know, for Jenna. Just wanted to see if I had good intentions or whatever.”

Wilma smirked, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sounds like they take protecting their friend seriously.”

I nodded, a small smile creeping up. “Yeah, I get it. But they really threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it.”

She chuckled, disappearing back into the kitchen. “Well, it sounds like you passed the test. Guess they know you’re not a player.”

“Yeah,” I muttered to myself. “Guess so.”

Even though I knew they were just looking out for Jenna, it still weighed on me. Jenna was a big deal—bigger than I’d ever thought. And having her friends throw me into an interrogation, even under the guise of acting, made me realize how seriously they took her happiness.

And now, here I was, not just thinking about what Jenna might feel—but how I felt too.

I busied myself with brewing coffee and prepping the counter for the first wave of customers, trying to focus on the normal rhythm of the morning. But it was hard to shake the weight of it all. I didn’t mind that her friends cared so much. In fact, it made me admire Jenna even more, seeing how loyal and protective her circle was.

What I couldn’t figure out yet was how I fit into that picture.

Sure, Jenna had shown interest—at least, I was pretty sure she had. The lingering touches, the way she looked at me, the way she’d said I was different. All signs pointed to something more than friendship. But there was still that little voice in the back of my head, the one that nagged at me, questioning everything.

Would this really go anywhere? Did someone like Jenna, with her fame, her life in the spotlight, have room for someone like me? And even if she did, could I handle it? The attention, the scrutiny—it was all so far from the life I was used to.

I wiped down the counter, trying to shake the thoughts away, but they clung to me like stubborn shadows. As I finished prepping, Wilma popped up beside me, holding a tray of fresh pastries.

“You’ve been in your head all morning,” she observed, her tone light but probing. “Wanna talk about it?”

I glanced at her, shrugging slightly. “It’s just... everything with Jenna. I don’t know, Wilma. I feel like I’m overthinking it.”

Wilma raised an eyebrow, placing the tray on the counter and leaning against the wall. “Overthinking? What’s there to overthink? She likes you, right? And from what I can tell, you like her.”

I sighed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, but it’s not that simple. I mean, look at her life. It’s so different from mine. I’m just a barista, and she’s... well, she’s Jenna Ortega.”

Wilma gave me a sympathetic smile. “Y/N, you’re not ‘just a barista.’ You’re you, and that’s why she likes you. You don’t have to fit into her world perfectly. If anything, she’s probably looking for something real, something outside of all the Hollywood craziness. And that’s what you give her.”

Her words made sense, but there was still that lingering doubt in my chest. “I guess. I just don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? I’ve been burned before.”

Wilma’s expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand on my arm. “I get it. But you can’t let fear of the past ruin something good now. Jenna seems like she’s really into you. You just have to trust that and see where it goes.”

I nodded, appreciating her support. “Thanks, Wilma. I just... I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” she said with a reassuring smile. “Just be yourself. That’s all you need to do.”

I smiled back, feeling a little lighter. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was overthinking things. Jenna had been clear about wanting to spend time with me, and her friends had given me the third degree—which, in a weird way, was a sign that they cared about her and maybe even wanted to see if I was the real deal. That had to mean something.

The bell above the door chimed, and the first wave of customers started trickling in, pulling me back into the routine of work. But even as I poured coffee and rang up orders, the thoughts of Jenna lingered, like a low hum in the background of my mind.

Later that afternoon, I was taking a quick break in the back when my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, expecting a text from Wilma or one of my brothers, but my heart skipped when I saw Jenna’s name pop up.

I unlocked my phone, and the message made my heart flutter.

Jenna: Hey, what are you doing this next weekend? There's a fall festival in town, and I thought would be fun to check it out. Want to go with me?

A festival? The thought of walking through a fall festival with Jenna, surrounded by cozy autumn vibes, sounded perfect.

I quickly typed back, immediately.

Y/N: That sounds amazing. I’m totally down. What day were you thinking?

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

Jenna: Saturday afternoon? It’s supposed to have food trucks, live music, and carnival games. We could just hang out and see where the night takes us.

I smiled, the excitement bubbling up inside me.

Y/N: I’m in! I can’t wait. Saturday it is.

After sending the message, I found myself grinning like an idiot, unable to stop thinking about how much fun next weekend was going to be. The idea of spending the day with Jenna, surrounded by the crisp fall air, pumpkins, and carnival lights, felt like something out of a dream.

As I tucked my phone back into my pocket and returned to work, my mind was already racing with thoughts of what the day might bring.

Two days later, I was back in the kitchen with Marcus and Caleb, prepping for a taco night instead of our usual routine meals. Mr. Noodles, as always, was perched on top of the fridge, his eyes darting back and forth between us as if supervising our cooking process. Caleb was working on the seasoned beef, adding his special blend of spices, while Marcus was busy chopping up vegetables, humming some random tune.

The smell of fresh tortillas and sizzling meat filled the air, making the kitchen feel warm and homey. But as much as I tried to focus on cooking, my mind kept wandering back to the fall festival and the fact that I’d be hanging out with Jenna.

“I can practically see the gears turning in your head,” Marcus said, breaking my thoughts. He wasn’t even looking at me, still focused on chopping tomatoes. “Thinking about your big day with Jenna?”

Caleb, always the more thoughtful one, glanced over from the stove. “He’s got a point, Ken. You’ve been pretty quiet for someone with a big weekend coming up.”

I shook my head, trying to brush it off. “I’m just... thinking. And it’s not a big deal.”

Marcus grinned, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Just a ‘casual hangout’ with a mega-famous actress. Totally not a big deal.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “You guys are making it sound way bigger than it is. It’s just a festival.”

Caleb smirked, stirring the taco meat. “Sure, but it’s not every day you go to a festival with Jenna Ortega. It’s okay to admit you’re nervous.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call. I glanced down and saw it was from Mom. “Uh-oh,” I muttered, grabbing my phone. “Mom’s calling.”

Marcus’s eyes lit up. “Oh, this should be good.”

I answered the call, and immediately, my mom’s face filled the screen, her usual bright smile greeting me. “Hey, sweetie! How’s everything going?”

“Hey, Mom,” I replied, trying to keep the conversation casual as Marcus and Caleb exchanged amused glances. “We’re just making tacos.”

Dad’s voice boomed in the background. “Tacos, huh? Save some for us!”

I laughed, and just as I was about to respond, my little sister Layla’s face popped into view, her excitement practically vibrating through the phone. “Y/N! Marcus told us you have a date with Jenna Ortega! Is it true?”

I shot Marcus a glare, and he just grinned innocently, continuing to chop vegetables. “Seriously?” I mouthed at him.

Layla’s squeal of excitement pierced the air. “I knew it! You’re going on a date with a movie star! This is so cool! Can you get her autograph for me?”

My face heated up, and I rubbed my temples, trying to keep calm. “It’s not a date, Layla. We’re just hanging out.”

But before I could explain further, Mom’s face appeared on the screen again, her smile even bigger now. “Ken, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad you’re getting out there again. It’s about time.”

Dad chuckled in the background. “You better make a good impression. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be the one.”

I groaned internally, feeling the weight of everyone’s excitement. “Guys, please, it’s not like that. We’re just going to a festival. No big deal. Casual hangout”

“Right,” Marcus chimed in, clearly enjoying this. “Just a casual outing with one of the most famous actresses in the world. Totally normal.”

Layla squealed again. “Y/N, this is awesome! You’re dating someone rich! Can you imagine all the fancy places you could go?”

I facepalmed, the teasing from my family getting worse by the second. “Layla, please. I’m still figuring things out.”

Mom chuckled, her voice softening. “We’re just happy for you, sweetie. You deserve to have fun.”

Layla was still practically bouncing off the walls. “You have to tell me all about it, okay? Even if she’s not Tom Holland, this is still huge!”

I sighed, finally giving in. “Fine, I’ll tell you about it. But seriously, it’s not as big of a deal as you’re all making it.”

Dad grinned, giving me a playful wink. “We’ll be the judge of that.”

As the teasing continued, Caleb and Marcus were grinning from ear to ear, clearly loving every minute of my embarrassment. Mr. Noodles, meanwhile, had managed to sneak closer to the plate of cheese, and Marcus had to shoo him away quickly.

After a few more minutes of chaotic family chatter, I finally ended the call, feeling both exasperated and oddly comforted by their excitement.

I turned to Marcus, narrowing my eyes. “You just had to spill the beans, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, not even pretending to be sorry. “Hey, where’s the fun in keeping secrets?”

Caleb chuckled, handing me a taco shell. “Don’t worry, Ken. We’re just happy for you.”

I sighed, taking the taco and rolling my eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

Marcus raised his taco in a mock toast. “Here’s to your ‘casual hangout’ with Jenna.”

I couldn’t help but laugh despite the embarrassment. Deep down, though, I was already feeling a mix of excitement and nerves about the weekend.

Whatever was going to happen, it was clear that my family—and Mr. Noodles—would have plenty to say about it.

Later that evening, after the chaos of dinner and the endless teasing had died down, I found myself curled up on the couch with Mr. Noodles resting comfortably on my lap. His steady purring was a welcome comfort after the whirlwind of emotions the past few days had stirred up. I absentmindedly scratched behind his ears as I scrolled through my phone, trying to unwind.

It wasn’t the festival yet, but the anticipation still hung in the air, making it hard to focus on anything else. My mind kept drifting back to Jenna, replaying every conversation, every moment we’d shared. Was I reading too much into things? Or was there something real between us?

My phone buzzed with a notification, and I glanced down, expecting it to be another message from Marcus with more teasing. But to my surprise, it was a text from Jenna.

Jenna: Hey! Hope you’re free this weekend. I was thinking we could check out this new art exhibit downtown. I heard it’s really cool, and maybe grab some coffee after?

A smile tugged at my lips. It wasn’t a festival or anything grand, but the idea of spending time with her, doing something as simple as visiting an art exhibit, felt… right. I quickly typed a response, trying to play it cool even though my heart was doing little flips in my chest.

Y/N: That sounds great! I’d love to. What time were you thinking?

She replied almost immediately.

Jenna: How about Friday around noon? We can make a whole afternoon of it if you’re up for it.

Y/N: Sounds perfect. Can’t wait!

As soon as I hit send, a wave of nervous excitement washed over me. It wasn’t just about hanging out with her anymore—it felt like something more.

I spent the rest of the evening thinking about how things had shifted between us, from casual coffee shop chats to this. It was strange, but in the best way possible.

Friday came faster than I expected, and by the time I was getting ready, the nervous excitement had hit full force. Caleb and Marcus, of course, were no help as they hovered around, watching me like vultures.

“So,” Marcus started, leaning against my bedroom doorframe with a grin. “Big day with Jenna, huh?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my smile. “It’s not a date.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Caleb said, smirking as he fluffed a pillow on my bed for no reason at all. “But if it were a date, hypothetically, you’d want to look good, right?”

I glanced at them both, trying to suppress a laugh. “Hypothetically.”

Marcus gave me a once-over and nodded. “Well, you’re looking date-ready to me.”

“Guys, it’s just an art exhibit..”

“Uh-huh.” Caleb exchanged a knowing look with Marcus. “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

I sighed, grabbing my jacket and throwing it over my shoulder. “Okay, I’m heading out before you two drive me crazy.”

Marcus gave me a mock salute. “Good luck, sis. You’ve got this.”

“Thanks, I guess?” I muttered, shaking my head as I headed for the door. Mr. Noodles meowed from his perch on the windowsill, watching me go with what I could only describe as mild disinterest.

When I arrived at the art gallery, Jenna was already waiting outside, dressed in a casual yet effortlessly stylish outfit, as always. She spotted me and waved with that signature smile that always made my heart skip a beat.

“Hey!” she greeted as I approached. “You ready to be blown away by some modern art?”

I grinned. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

We spent the next couple of hours wandering through the exhibit, making comments about the more abstract pieces and laughing at our completely amateur interpretations. Jenna’s knowledge of art was impressive, though she played it down, explaining how her mom had always taken her to galleries when she was younger.

It was easy being with her—comfortable, even when the conversation dipped into deeper topics. As we moved from room to room, I couldn’t help but feel like this was the kind of moment you didn’t get often—something simple, but meaningful.

After the exhibit, we grabbed coffee at a nearby café, sitting by the window as we sipped our drinks. The conversation flowed as naturally as ever, and before I knew it, hours had passed.

So,” Jenna said, her tone a bit more serious as she swirled her cup. “I’ve been meaning to ask... how are things going? You know, with The Daily Grind, and everyone?”

I looked at her, sensing that she wasn’t just asking about my day. “Things are... good. Busy, but good. And you?”

Jenna smiled softly, her eyes meeting mine. “Same. But it’s been nice... having someone to talk to. Someone who gets it.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest, a feeling that seemed to be happening more and more whenever we talked. But there was something different in the way she said it this time. Her gaze lingered on mine, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes.

Before I could respond, Jenna shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Her voice had a softer, more hesitant edge to it.

I tilted my head, intrigued. “What’s up?”

She bit her lip, almost like she was searching for the right words. “You remember when we first started hanging out? It felt... I don’t know, casual. But lately... I’ve been thinking it’s something more than that. Maybe it always has been, and I didn’t want to admit it.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process what she was saying. Was she about to say what I thought she was? Was this actually happening?

“I know I’ve been careful about keeping things... low-key,” she continued, her eyes still locked on mine. “But I’ve realized I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to overthink everything just because of how complicated my life is.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are you saying, Jenna?”

Jenna let out a small, nervous laugh, running a hand through her hair. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. More than just a friend. And I’ve been trying to figure out if you feel the same way, or if I’m just imagining things.”

I blinked, stunned for a moment. Of all the things I’d imagined happening today, this was not one of them. Jenna Ortega, the girl who had been the subject of all my daydreams for the past few months, was sitting across from me, confessing her feelings. For me.

A grin spread across my face as my nervousness faded. I leaned in, gently placing a hand on hers. "You're not imagining things, Jenna," I said softly, my heart racing. "I’ve felt the same for a while. I wasn’t sure if I knew fully or was ready for it."

Jenna’s eyes widened in surprise, but a bright smile broke across her face. “Really? You’ve... felt the same?”

I nodded, my own smile growing. “Yeah. I didn’t want to push anything, especially since I know your life is crazy and complicated. But... yeah. I like you, Jenna. A lot.”

Her smile softened into something more tender, wrapping her fingers around mine and holding my hand. "I'm really glad you said that."

For a moment, we just sat there, the world outside the café falling away as we looked at each other. It was like everything had shifted between us in the span of a few sentences, but in the best possible way.

“Does this mean...” I started, trying to piece together what this meant for us. “That we’re...?”

Jenna laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “Let’s just say we’re taking a step forward. I don’t want to rush anything, but I also don’t want to hold back anymore.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “I’m okay with that.”

We both sat back, the tension in the air replaced by something lighter, something that felt like the start of something new.

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Jenna said, her tone shifting to something more serious.

I tilted my head, curious. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, fiddling with her bracelet for a moment before looking up at me. “I’ve been offered a pretty big role. It’s... out of the country, though. And it’s long-term.”

My stomach did a small flip. “Out of the country? For how long?”

Jenna sighed. “Six months, maybe longer. It’s a dream project, but I didn’t want to bring it up until I knew for sure. And now it’s official.”

I blinked, trying to process the information. “Wow. That’s... amazing, Jenna. But... six months?”

She gave a small nod, her eyes searching mine for a reaction. “Yeah, I know. It’s a lot to take in. I don’t even know how to feel about it yet. On one hand, it’s such a huge opportunity, but on the other...”

I didn’t know what to say for a second, my mind racing with thoughts. “You’re going to take it, right?”

Jenna looked down, biting her lip. “I think so. But I wanted to tell you first. I didn’t want to just... disappear without you knowing what was going on.”

I sat back, taking in her words. It felt like a heavy shift, something neither of us had been expecting. Six months was a long time, and part of me wasn’t sure how to feel about it. But at the same time, this was a huge step for Jenna, and I knew how much her work meant to her.

“I’m glad you told me,” I said, my voice steady. “It sounds like an incredible opportunity. I’m proud of you.”

Jenna smiled softly, relief washing over her face. “Thanks. I just didn’t want you to think I was... leaving, you know?”

I nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind her words. This wasn’t just about the project; it was about us—whatever this was it was getting serious. And while the news felt like a curveball, it didn’t change how I felt. Not in the slightest.

“Well, we’ll figure it out,” I said, offering her a reassuring smile. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

Jenna’s smile grew, and I saw a flicker of hope in her eyes for the first time since the conversation started. “Yeah. We will.”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Family

Benedict Bridgerton x wife fem reader

The Bridgerton household was unusually calm that morning, a rarity in a home filled with the lively energy of four young children. Benedict Bridgerton, known for his creative spirit and easygoing demeanor, had decided that today would be a day for family, free from the usual hustle and bustle of their social obligations. His wife, Y/N, welcomed the idea of a relaxing day at home with a delighted smile, eager to spend quality time with their children.

The sun streamed through the large windows of their elegant country estate, casting a warm glow across the rooms. Benedict and Y/N had designed their home to be a sanctuary of comfort and beauty, a place where their children could grow and thrive surrounded by love and creativity.

In the spacious kitchen, Y/N was preparing a hearty breakfast. The delicious aroma of freshly baked scones and crispy bacon filled the air, mingling with the scent of brewing coffee. Benedict, ever the doting husband, moved about the kitchen with an easy grace, assisting Y/N with setting the table and entertaining their youngest daughter, Emily, who was tugging at his trousers, giggling.

“Papa, lift me!” Emily demanded with a bright, toothy grin.

Benedict scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her around in a playful dance. Her laughter echoed through the room, drawing the attention of her siblings. Alexander, the eldest at ten, walked in with a book in his hand, followed closely by the twins, Charlotte and Henry, both eight, who were in the midst of a playful argument.

“Papa, tell Charlotte that it’s my turn to choose the game today!” Henry protested, his expression a mix of frustration and determination.

Before Benedict could respond, Y/N intervened with a calm, soothing voice. “Why don’t we all decide together what we’d like to do today? It’s a family day, after all.”

Charlotte and Henry paused, considering their mother’s suggestion. Alexander, wise beyond his years, nodded in agreement. “That sounds fair. What do you think, Papa?”

Benedict smiled, setting Emily down gently. “I think your mother is right. Let’s finish our breakfast, and then we’ll sit down and make a plan for the day.”

As they gathered around the large wooden table, the children’s chatter filled the room with a lively warmth. They discussed their options, ranging from a picnic in the garden to an afternoon of painting and crafts in Benedict’s art studio. After much deliberation, they decided on a bit of everything a picnic, followed by a painting session, and ending the day with a family movie night.

With breakfast finished, they set about preparing for their picnic. Y/N packed a basket with sandwiches, fruits, and a selection of pastries, while Benedict and the children gathered blankets and games to take outside. They chose a spot under a large oak tree in the garden, its branches providing ample shade.

Just as they were about to head out, the front door burst open, and in streamed the entire Bridgerton clan. Anthony, the eldest of Benedict's siblings, led the charge with his wife, Kate, and their children close behind. They were followed by the rest of the Bridgerton siblings: Daphne and her husband, Simon, with their children; Colin and his wife, Penelope; Eloise and Francesca, each with their own families; Gregory and Hyacinth, the youngest siblings, rounding out the lively group.

"Benedict, Y/N!" Anthony called out, a broad smile on his face. "We thought we'd join you for a day of family fun!"

Benedict's face lit up with surprise and joy. "This is a wonderful surprise! The more, the merrier!"

The garden quickly transformed into a vibrant hub of activity. The children ran around, playing games and exploring the vast grounds, while the adults spread out blankets and set up a buffet style picnic. Laughter and conversations filled the air, creating an atmosphere of warmth and happiness.

After lunch, Benedict suggested they all play a game of charades, a favorite Bridgerton family pastime. The idea was met with enthusiastic cheers, and they quickly gathered in the large living room, rearranging furniture to create an open space for the game.

Anthony took charge of organizing the teams, dividing everyone into two groups. Benedict, ever the performer, was up first. He drew a card from the pile and glanced at it, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Alright, let's see what you've got," Colin teased from the opposing team.

Benedict began his act, first miming the shape of a rectangle with his hands and then pretending to hold something heavy. He staggered around the room, his exaggerated movements eliciting giggles from the children and knowing smiles from the adults.

"He's lifting something! A box?" Daphne guessed.

Benedict shook his head vigorously, moving on to the next part of his act. He began to flail his arms wildly, pretending to be caught in a storm. The children burst into laughter, their infectious giggles spreading to the adults.

"A boat! No, a shipwreck!" Y/N called out, trying to contain her laughter.

Benedict nodded eagerly, then dropped to the floor, pretending to swim through turbulent waters. He finally mimed pulling something large and round from the water, holding it triumphantly over his head.

"A giant pearl! A treasure!" Alexander shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.

Benedict pointed at Alexander, nodding with satisfaction. The room erupted in applause and laughter, the children jumping up and down with glee.

"You really outdid yourself this time, brother," Anthony said, clapping Benedict on the back.

The game continued with everyone taking turns, each performance more hilarious than the last. Penelope's impression of a horse had everyone in stitches, while Hyacinth's attempt at miming a famous opera singer brought the house down.

As the afternoon sun began to wane, the family gathered in Benedict’s art studio for a collective painting session. The room, filled with canvases and art supplies, was a haven of creativity. Benedict, with his usual charm, encouraged everyone to express their creativity, handing out brushes and paints. Even the most reluctant participants found themselves caught up in the spirit of the activity, creating a large collaborative mural that would serve as a lasting memory of the day.

When evening came, they moved to the living room for the grand finale: a family movie night. Pillows and blankets were spread out across the floor, and the children nestled in with their cousins, eyes wide with anticipation. The chosen movie was a family favorite, a whimsical adventure that captivated everyone from the youngest to the oldest.

As the credits rolled and the children began to drift off to sleep, Benedict and Y/N, along with the rest of the Bridgertons, carried them to their rooms, tucking them into bed with gentle kisses and whispered goodnights. The house gradually fell silent, the peace of the evening settling over them.

Back in their bedroom, Benedict and Y/N reflected on the day, their hearts brimming with gratitude. Benedict pulled Y/N into a tender embrace, his voice soft with emotion. “Days like this remind me of how lucky we are, my love.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his chest. “Indeed, Benedict. Our family is our greatest masterpiece.”

With that, they climbed into bed, the gentle rhythm of their children’s breaths a comforting lullaby. They drifted off to sleep, knowing that while life was often filled with chaos and demands, it was moments like these that truly defined their happiness.

like and comment 🫶🏼

[fbfh]

curiosity is a wonderful thing - ch. 9

wc: 3.2k

genre: slow burn, little angst, childhood best friends to lovers

pairing: slow burn bff!ben x fem daughter of alice!reader, previously audrey x ben, mal x ben???? apparently????

warnings: emotional damage!!! unusual behavior from ben, reader has a lil mini breakdown, reader is a just a tad autistic coded and has kind of a meltdown??? could also be read as emotional distress so interpret how you will

summary: ben gets weird during a tourney game and your gut is telling you something you probably shouldn't ignore.

song recs: twisted - aviva, cradles - sub urban, rabbit heart - florance and the machine, heads will roll - yeah yeah yeahs

a/n: YOOOOOOOOO IT'S GETTIN JUICYYYYYY. also our cat I mentioned in the an of chapter 8 has settled in well. he's so talkitive lol. I LOVE YOU GUYS I HOPE YOU'RE ENJOYING HAPPY PRIIIIIDEEEEEEE~~~~~ BEEEEE WHO YOU AARRRREEEE FOR YOUR PRIIIIIIIIIIIDDDDDDEEEEEEEE

tags @yesv01@magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads @dustyinkpages @inejsknifes @tulipmagnoliaisme @ev3ningrain SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE YELL AT ME IN THE NOTES AND ILL ADD YOU LOL

You take in a big lungful of the crisp, springtime fresh Auradon air as you crawl out of your rabbit hole and back into Overland. Roots and twigs and grass stick to your skirts, but you don’t mind much. You check your pocket watch in a panic, and scurry to the tourney match. You’re merely a pebble’s throw away, so you reach the bleachers quite quickly. Late, granted, but not too late. Not horribly, irreversibly, all-endingly late. You climb up to your usual spot in the bleachers, only a few seats away from the isle kids. Well, Mal and Evie, really, since Jay and Carlos are out on the field. You try to wave at the girls, but they seem much too preoccupied with the game to notice. You understand their fascination, tourney matches are simply addictive. 

You yourself hadn’t been one for sports - aside from the occasional caucus race - that is, until Ben joined the tourney team last year. He must have spent every spare moment leading up to his first match trying to explain the rules to you with no luck, but the moment the referee blew her whistle, you were enamored watching him play. And it’s simply been that way ever since. No matter what it is, you know it will be a fantastical time if Ben’s the one playing. This seems especially true today. 

Ben tears up the field like an absolute animal - no pun intended - and within minutes has scored yet another goal for Auradon. The Fighting Knights are pulling out all the stops, and through even your unwavering faith in Ben’s athleticism, it’s starting to look like a close call. You pull out a teacup from your bag, the china cool under your fingertips. It’s adorned with a white catchfly and chestnut print, but you don’t pay much attention to it. 

Your eyes are locked on Ben as he races down the field, and you pour the spout of your tea pot shaped bag into the cup. Warm, perfectly brewed rooibos and nettle tea trickles from its spout. You shake it absentmindedly a few times, and some lemon slices and lavender sprigs fall in, floating atop the beverage. You take a sip of the warm, perfectly seasoned herbal tea, nearly choking on it as Jay drags Carlos across the field. You watch with bated breath as they move strategically, setting up Ben to score the perfect winning goal. The ball flies straight into the net, and you jump up, cheering and applauding, not even noticing the rooibos and nettle tea stain on your skirt. The crowd roars right along with you, applauding and cheering deafeningly while the announcer congratulates Auradon Prep on their win. Before he can even finish speaking, Ben grabs the mic from him.

You stop dead in your tracks, brow furrowed.

That’s not like him. 

Not at all. 

“Excuse me, excuse me!” Ben pants, still out of breath as he tries to get the crowd’s focus. “Can I have your attention please?”

The stands quiet as he speaks. 

“There’s- uh, there’s something I’d like to say!”

What in the Knave’s good name is he doing? Your mind races, trying to remember if he’d said anything about something like this. Were there any speeches, any announcements, anything like that he was going to make after the game? You can’t remember him mentioning anything like that. Besides, he always runs his speeches by you first to make sure it comes across the way he intends it too. Even something as small as an opening statement or homework presentation, he always gets your feedback first. You watch the way his eyes dart around, the way he hesitates as he tries to figure out what he’s saying. Your stomach drops. He’s improvising this. This whole situation feels surreal. Most peculiar, and most definitely unlike him. 

After another moment of floundering, he finally addresses the crowd. 

“Give me an M!” 

The crowd complies, shouting out the letter and mirroring the shape he’s making with his arms. 

“Give me an A!” 

“A!” 

While the crowd complies yet again, throwing their arms over their heads in an A shape, your eyes fly over to Audrey. You’re afraid you know where this is going, even though it makes positively less sense than the most twisting turning riddles you’ve ever encountered in Wonderland. Your horrified, bewildered expression is the opposite of her hopeful one, and you realize you’re thinking the same thing. Your stomach sinks in a sick, twisting feeling. Your mind races in a dreamlike panic. 

He can’t seriously be asking Audrey to marry him, could he? 

There’s no way. There’s simply no chance that the Ben you’ve known for longer than you’ve been brewing tea would do something so… impulsive. Everything about Ben is calculated. Well thought through. Ben agonizes over each and every decision, he lies awake at night paralyzed by the potential consequences of each action, each choice not being thought all the way through and analyzed from every possible angle. If proposing to Audrey was even a thought in his mind, he would have told you about it. 

There’s simply no other way. There’s no possibility this was even an option in his mind. Just last week when you had quietly implied that maybe he should consider ending their relationship, his silence spoke louder than any words could have. You had seen that. You saw it in his eyes. There’s no way he could be changing his mind that quickly, and not consulting you - or someone about it? You know you would have gotten wind if he even implied he was toying with the notion. Ben does not flip-flop. So what is… this?

“Give me an L!”

Audrey’s face drops. Yours floods with relief. 

He’s not proposing. 

“C’mon, I can’t hear you!” Ben calls out into the mic, hyping up the crowd. They yell Mal’s name again at Ben’s encouragement. You think you see where he’s going with this. It makes sense - Jay and Carlos each got a big starring moment during the tourney game. Now, Ben is giving a shout out to Mal and Evie so they can share in the glory, and won’t feel left out. It’s a brilliant idea, you realize, but you still can’t figure out why he didn’t plan something like this ahead. Did he realize last minute that Mal and Evie might feel excluded? It’s possible. And right now, it’s the most rational explanation you have for this unusual behavior. Before you can feel too relieved, he leans into the mic. You wait for him to instruct the crowd to give him an E, beginning to spell Evie’s name, and-

“I love you, Mal!”

Your stomach drops. You freeze again, brow furrowed more than before. The world around you spins as you stand in the crowd, disoriented. He says it like a deathbed confession, the words tearing from his throat. Through your confused stupor, you can hear the sincerity, the yearning in his voice. 

What?

You don’t even think to look over at Audrey, but you’re sure as anything her expression is exactly the same as yours - completely and totally shell shocked. Probably moreso, you think, she is his girlfriend after all. But is she? Anymore, that is. You can’t imagine she would want to be after a display like that, after Ben publicly- 

Ben…

Ben. 

His gaze flicks over to you for a split second, not even long enough for you to silently ask him what the hell is going on. But it’s just long enough for you to see a flash of something. A look in his eye. Fear. Confusion. Everything you’re feeling for him right now. His attention is ripped forcefully back to Mal. Whatever was there, you can’t see it now. 

“Give me a beat!” Ben demands overzealously to the band. They start playing something for him, something loud and fast. Ben begins singing Mal’s praises. Literally. You’re still frozen, sick with a cold, confused feeling that makes the world around you feel like a strange dream. Unreal. You begin to question if you are dreaming. Through your dazed state - which you only later realize has begun to be accompanied by hot tears blurring your vision - you could swear you saw Mal and Evie share some sort of look, whisper knowingly. They giggle. Mal pulls a zip top bag of cookies out of her jacket pocket and they both start giggling. Laughing. 

A noise catches your scattered attention and you notice Ben has launched himself into the stands, crowd surfing to get all the way over to Mal. He climbs down, grabbing her waist and pulling her close. It’s so intense, so passionate, so unlike him to do something like that in public. You start to gasp, but you can’t. The stands are so loud, each noise feels like a gunshot deafening you. Your lungs feel like they’re being squeezed from the bottom up like paint tubes, gripped by an artist desperate for the last drops of cadmium yellow deep. 

His hand rests firmly on the small of her back.

Just like it does on yours.

Something sickening twists through you, contaminating your heart and sapping away at your strength. Audrey’s voice cuts through, piercing and shrill as she announces to Ben that Chad is her boyfriend now. You see them kiss in your peripheral vision, eyes still locked on the way Ben’s hand sits on Mal’s back. He doesn’t seem to notice Audrey either, or at the very least, he doesn’t acknowledge her. Normally you’d giggle privately at how much that would irritate her, but nothing so frivolous crosses your mind just then.

“I love you, Mal!” Ben exclaims into the microphone. “Did I mention that?”

He leans closer, aching for her, needing her. But she puts her hands on his chest, trying to keep more distance between them. 

“Mal,” he begs, panting as his breath fans across her face, his cheeks flushed. He grips her tighter, leaning closer until he’s practically dipping her. The crowd watches, shocked at the sight of Prince Ben - who is known for his diplomatic reserve and continuous composure - acting so bold in public. “Will you go to coronation with me?”

“Yes!” Mal’s response comes a little too easily. 

You stare off into space in his general direction, choked with disbelief. You feel so frightened and confused and unwelcome. It’s a cold, isolated feeling of strangeness you’ve been running from since you could walk. You knew what people said about Wonderlandians, what they whispered behind your back when they thought you couldn’t hear. It was always Ben who made that feeling go away. He had seen the change in you, too. The more time you spent together since you were littles, the more he included you and sent disapproving princely looks to anyone who dared to tease you or make you feel like you’re not a part of Auradon, the more it started to work. He saw you relax, saw you believe him when he said he was happy to see you. He saw the shame and paranoia from accepting the fact that everyone around you was teasing you behind your back, spreading lies and rumors fade away. 

Ben watched you grow into yourself the moment he showed you that you were safe to do so. Now, after ten years, that horrible feeling is back and Ben is gone. You turn, rushing out of the bleachers, hopping down to solid ground and turning underneath the stands. You’ve barely stopped before the world caves in around you, and the familiar scent of earth and night and the good kind of confusion envelop your senses, like a hug from your mother. 

You fall down the rabbit hole, and you weep. Shamelessly, loudly, uncontrolled. Your tears fly off into the air above you as you fall, no longer afraid of prying eyes. You cry and cry, losing your sense of time and space as you fall deeper and deeper away from the world that never seems to lose amusement in stinging you when you least expect it. You take in a breath, but before you can let it out as another aching sob, you’re plunged underwater. 

Your eyes flare open in the deep waves around you, the black void of a sky above. You kick yourself up to the surface, gasping as you tread the current carrying you downstream. The water splashes around you, getting into your mouth, and it’s salty. A stork sails by on a little wooden raft, adjusting her captain’s hat. “Well, that would do it!” She exclaims in a thick, Wonderlandian accent. “I was wondering what caused these high tides.” 

She maneuvers her raft towards you and hauls you onto it, her gangly legs wobbling awkwardly as she keeps her balance. She pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket and hands it to you, her long feathers tickling your fingertips. 

“Dry your eyes there, dearie, or else we’ll be having to build a new dam!” 

You sputter an apology, which she dismisses goodnaturedly, and begins singing a confusing sea shanty as she navigates the waves, coming and going as you try to calm yourself. After a few minutes, a particularly large wave pushes you two over the river’s edge and sends you spinning into the forest. 

“Well, there you have it.” She says, taking off her cap and dumping out water, sand, a few shells, and a very irritable codfish. She unties the strings of her raft, gathering up the large sticks used to make it into a bundle, and tucking them under her arm.

“Quite useful, you know,” She says softly, before handing you a piece of nicely shaped paper. It reads The Two Blwo’s Shipping Survise. “And if you ever need something lickety split, I do hope you’ll give me a call.”

She tilts her hat and lopes off through the woods into darkness. 

You plop yourself down on the nearest thing - a large, bioluminescent blue mushroom with little purple spots that makes a sound like a big deep drum when you sit down on it. Several smaller mushrooms varying in size scatter near the base of the one you’re seated on. As you pull your foot up to get comfortable, you graze a few of the litter ones, and let out different tones and types of drums too. Normally this would fascinate you. Normally you would be taking pictures, writing about them in your journal, and trying to learn how to play a song on them - if they’re in the right sort of temperament, of course. But today you don’t even notice.

Your mind is still spiraling, sucked down into a whirlpool of the day’s events. You go over and over what happened, hoping to make sense of it, but unable to really process anything. That was so strange, Ben is acting so strange. Why is he acting like that, you wonder. Did he hit his head? Has he somehow been possessed by a very extroverted poltergeist? Why would he do that? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t even make nonsense. Even in Wonderland, there are still patterns, there are still rules and motivations for doing things. Even if those rules and patterns don’t make sense to anyone else, they’re still real. Wonderland is illogical and absurd, but it’s not purely random. 

You rock yourself comfortingly on the bouncy mushroom, the soft noise providing an ambiance that helps you start to think again. There’s no feasible pattern or non-pattern or non-pattern pattern to Ben’s behavior. If there were one, you would be able to find it, especially if you know him as well as you do. And you do. You glance down and see some beetles marching in a line, carrying leaf umbrellas to avoid any more falling tears. You wipe them from your cheeks quickly. 

“My apologies.” You say, your voice polite and fragile. The head beetle chirps, clicking his wings and tipping his hat. He ushers the others past your mushroom quickly, putting their leaf umbrellas onto an umbrella leaf bush nearby. 

A few bread-and-butterflies flitter over, carrying a tray of tea and cakes. They place it before you gently, brewing you a cup of blackberry earl grey with extra honey. You thank them, and they nod, flittering off and leaving a trail of buttery breadcrumbs as their wings flap. They land nearby, listening to you mutter to yourself as the line up to form a loaf. The tea and cakes are delicious, full of jam and honey, and they steady your nerves. You take in another breath, less shaky this time, and begin to think. Not panic, really think. 

“There has to be a reason,” you mumble out loud, “There simply has to be. Ben doesn’t just lose his composure like this. He’s not devoid of sensibilities and decision making. He’s worked so hard to hone his reputation as someone trustworthy, someone full of common sense and compassion, and that… being that person for Auradon is everything to him.”

You place down your tea cup firmly, brow furrowing as your confusion melts away to determination. 

“Everything! He would never do something so… impulsive, and foolhardy, and- and… not like him!” 

You stand up quickly, landing on your feet. 

“I must get to the bottom of this.” You pause. “Or top. Either way.”

You gather your things, fix your hair, and wring out the water from your dress. Even if Ben doesn’t care about his reputation anymore, about his future, the very future of Auradon and all who reside within it, you do. Your loyalty to Ben simply cannot be broken by a day like today.  You won’t let him throw away everything he’s worked towards for no reason. For any reason! If he’s just gone mad, that’s one thing to be dealt with. But there’s a good chance he’ll come back to his senses sooner or later, and you refuse to let everything to hell in a handbasket until he does. 

You are going to figure this out. You’re going to do as much damage control as needed until Ben is back to you and Back to himself. And he is going to come back to himself. You’re sure of it.

Filled with tea cakes and determination, you summon a rabbit hole back to Auradon, and jump through. You flip and twist through the darkness, falling past a bookshelf that floats along with you for a moment, offering a few titles that might prove useful. 

When light breaks the surface and you hear the cracking of polished stone floors, you climb through and emerge into the library. You dust the dirt off yourself and off your hands, setting down your books on a table. You begin to look around, rushing through the library and moving with purpose. You pull book after book off the shelves until you can hardly carry them to the checkout desk. Many of them will be fruitless, you’re sure, but anything is better than nothing in times like these.

“Doing some light reading, Ms. Liddell?” The librarian asks, chuckling at the imposing stack of books you’ve placed before her as she scans through them. 

“There’s nothing light about it, I’m afraid.”She looks up, surprised by the unusual heaviness to your voice, the sharp, focused determination. “Thank you, madam.” You say, grabbing all your books and marching off to your dorm. You have a lot of reading to get through.

[bitchiswild]

Distracted | Purinz

G!P Yunjin x G!P Chaewon x F! Reader Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: threesome,face fucking, cream pie, etc. A/n: First time writing a threesome tell me how it is😊 REQUESTED

"Y/n, can you please pay attention? I'm not enjoying this any more than you are, but we really need to finish this," Yunjin said, annoyed, glancing up from her laptop to see you squirming in your seat.

"Yeah, Y/n, listen to the nerd. Let's just get this over with," Chaewon added with a scoff, her arms crossed as she slouched in her chair with her legs spread out.

Your head snapped towards them with a glare, muttering under your breath in frustration as you turned your attention back to your part of the project. The three of you were gathered at Chaewon's house to work on the project together. You and Chaewon had never gotten along. Ever since your mutual friend/ teammate Kazuha introduced you to her, the popular girl, and you, the captain of the soccer (football) team, there had been tension. The two of you constantly got on each other's nerves.

Yunjin, on the other hand, was a different story. She was practically a loner, not having many friends and always focusing on her studies. She was what some might call a "nerd," always engrossed in nerdy activities.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere in Chaewon's living room grew increasingly tense. Despite the shared goal of completing the project, the underlying animosity between you and Chaewon continued to simmer beneath the surface.

Yunjin, sensing the growing tension, tried to mediate. "Alright, guys, let's try to focus and work together," she said, attempting to steer the conversation back to the task at hand.

But Chaewon couldn't resist taking a jab at you. "Yeah, Y/n, try not to mess this up like you always do on the field," she remarked with a smirk.

Your temper flared, and you shot back, "At least I contribute something other than empty popularity."

Yunjin sighed, recognizing the futility of trying to defuse the situation. She returned to her laptop, quietly typing away, determined to finish her portion of the project despite the brewing conflict.

The tension between you and Chaewon escalated with every passing moment. Each word exchanged felt like a verbal jab, intensifying the animosity that had long simmered between you.

In a moment of frustration, Chaewon leaned in closer, her voice dripping with disdain. "You know, Y/n, maybe if you focused less on sports and more on actually using your brain, you wouldn't always be at the bottom of the class," she sneered.

Your jaw clenched as you fought to maintain your composure, but the comment struck a nerve. "And maybe if you weren't so obsessed with being the center of attention, you'd realize there's more to life than popularity," you retorted, your tone sharp with anger.

The room fell silent for a tense moment, the air thick with unresolved tension. But then, unexpectedly, Chaewon's expression shifted, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes.

"You know, Y/n," she said, her voice lowering to a husky whisper, "for someone who talks a big game, you sure seem to have a lot of pent-up frustration."

Your heart skipped a beat as her words hung in the air, the tension between you suddenly taking on a different, more charged quality. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the animosity giving way to something altogether more primal.

Caught off guard by the sudden shift in dynamics, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from Chaewon's, the air crackling with an unspoken challenge.

Yunjin glanced up from her laptop, startled by the sudden change in atmosphere. Her eyes widened as she watched Chaewon saunter towards you with deliberate steps, her movements oozing confidence and a hint of something darker. It was as if Chaewon had transformed into a predator, and you were her unsuspecting prey.

Chaewon's gaze bore into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a raw hunger in her eyes, a desire that seemed to consume her entirely. It was a look you had never seen from her before, one that stirred something primal within you despite the lingering tension between you.

As she drew closer, the air between you crackled with anticipation, thick with unspoken desire. Your heart raced in your chest, torn between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull drawing you closer to her.

Yunjin watched in silence, her expression unreadable as she observed the electric exchange unfolding before her. It was as if time itself had slowed to a crawl, the world narrowing down to the charged space between you and Chaewon, where every breath, every heartbeat seemed to echo with the promise of something forbidden.

As Chaewon closed the distance between you, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. And then, in a low, husky voice that sent shivers down your spine, she uttered words that made your heart skip a beat.

"You know, Y/n," she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction, "I've always wondered what it would feel like to have you beneath me, begging for more."

Your breath caught in your throat at her brazen words, your mind reeling with a heady mix of desire and disbelief. Before you could form a coherent response, Chaewon closed the remaining distance between you, her lips crashing against yours in a fervent kiss that ignited a firestorm of passion within you.

In that moment, everything else faded away as you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of Chaewon's lips moving against yours with a hunger that matched your own. It was a kiss filled with longing, with pent-up desire that had been simmering between you for far too long.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, you melted into Chaewon's embrace, your hands tangling in her hair as you lost yourself in the overwhelming rush of sensation. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent confession of all the unspoken desires that had lingered between you, finally finding release in the electrifying connection you shared.

As Yunjin sat there, her face flushed at the scene unfolding before her, she couldn't help but stutter out, "I-I think I should leave..."

But her words were drowned out by your escalating moans, the intensity of the moment overpowering any attempts at rational thought.

Chaewon, her voice husky with desire, murmured against your ear, "Do you like that, Y/n? Do you want more?"

You could only manage a breathless nod in response as Chaewon continued to grope and tease, her touch igniting flames of pleasure within you.

"Tell me what you want," Chaewon whispered, her lips brushing against yours in a teasing caress.

"I want..." you began, your voice barely a whisper, "I want you..."

And with that confession, Chaewon's hunger reached its peak. Without hesitation, she pulled you into a searing kiss, her hands roaming freely over your body as she eagerly explored every inch of your desire. The sound of your moans mingled with the rhythm of your pounding hearts, filling the room with a symphony of passion as you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating pleasure of the moment.

The room was charged with tension as Yunjin remained frozen in her seat, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene unfolding before her. Your moans, growing increasingly desperate, echoed through the room, sending a shiver down her spine.

Unable to resist the overwhelming arousal building within her, Yunjin's hand drifted down to cup her hardening cock, whimpering softly at the electrifying sensitivity that coursed through her body.

Your head snapped towards Yunjin at the sound of her whimper, and you caught Chaewon's eye as she began to kiss down your neck. "Chaewon," you sighed out, your voice a breathless plea, "Nerd over there wants some action."

Chaewon detached herself from your neck, her gaze flickering to Yunjin's flushed face with a wicked smirk. "Aw, is the nerd getting turned on by watching two girls kiss?" she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

Feeling emboldened by Chaewon's taunt, you crawled over to where Yunjin sat, guided by Chaewon's nod. "Tease her a little, Y/n," Chaewon instructed, her voice low and seductive.

You obeyed, brushing your fingers teasingly against Yunjin's face before trailing them down her body, eliciting a shuddered breath and a whimper from her. Your hand found its way to Yunjin's hardened bulge, and you began to rub it gently, feeling her tremble beneath your touch as desire surged through her.

Yunjin's breath hitched as she succumbed to the intoxicating sensation, her body responding eagerly to your teasing caresses. The air crackled with anticipation as you continued to explore Yunjin's desires, guided by Chaewon's wicked gaze and the heady rush of arousal that enveloped you all.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you continued to rub Yunjin's clothed cock, feeling it throb beneath your touch. Looking up at her with a daring smirk, you whispered, "Take off your pants, let me suck you off, nerd."

Yunjin wasted no time in complying, eagerly pushing down her pants and underwear in one swift motion. Your eyes widened at the sight of her exposed cock, a rush of excitement coursing through you as you took in its size.

"Who knew the nerd had such a pretty big cock," you remarked with a playful smirk, your voice filled with admiration.

Without hesitation, you leaned forward, your lips capturing Yunjin's throbbing member as you began to lavish it with attention. Your hand joined in, providing additional stimulation as you worked her with fervor, determined to bring her to the brink of pleasure.

Yunjin's moans filled the room, mingling with the sounds of your slurping as pleasure coursed through her. Lost in the intoxicating sensation, she surrendered herself to the pleasure of your touch, her body quivering with anticipation of the release that awaited her.

Your tongue explored every inch of her length, while your lips tightened around her shaft, creating a delicious friction that sent waves of pleasure through her.

Yunjin's hips bucked involuntarily, her hands gripping your hair as she surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. Her moans grew louder and more urgent, filling the room with desire and urging you on.

As you continued to pleasure Yunjin, your mouth occupied with sucking and stroking her cock, Chaewon's actions caught you off guard. With a wicked grin, she swiftly whipped out her own cock and began to tug your shorts and panties down, exposing your needy core to the cool air.

"Looks like someone's eager to join in on the fun," Chaewon purred, her voice dripping with lust as she eyed your exposed body hungrily.

You moaned around Yunjin's cock, the sensation of Chaewon's hands on you sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. "Oh, fuck, Chaewon," you gasped, your voice laced with desire, "don't stop."

Chaewon chuckled darkly as she teased your throbbing clit with her fingers, her touch sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. "You're such a needy slut, Y/n," she taunted, her voice low and seductive, "but I love it."

Your breath hitched as Chaewon's fingers dipped lower, teasingly circling your entrance before sliding inside you with ease. "Fuck, Chaewon," you moaned, your words barely coherent as pleasure washed over you in waves.

Meanwhile, Yunjin watched with rapt attention, her own arousal evident as she enjoyed the show unfolding before her. The air crackled with anticipation as the three of you indulged in the forbidden pleasure, lost in the intoxicating haze of desire.

As Chaewon continued to tease and taunt you, her fingers danced along the slick folds of your entrance, eliciting a low whimper of anticipation from you. With a devilish grin, she guided the tip of her cock to your dripping entrance, teasingly rubbing it against your slick folds.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation, your body trembling with need as Chaewon teased you mercilessly. "Come on, Y/n," she teased, her voice dripping with desire, "you know you want it."

You moaned in response, your hips instinctively bucking towards her, desperate for more. "Please," you whimpered, your voice pleading, "don't tease me like this."

But Chaewon only chuckled darkly, her eyes glinting with mischief as she continued to tease your entrance with the tip of her cock. "You're such a slut, Y/n," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper, "begging for it like this."

The sensation was almost too much to bear, your body trembling with need as you yearned for her to fill you completely. With a final, torturous tease, Chaewon relented, pushing her cock slowly into you, inch by agonizing inch, until you were filled to the brim with her.

As Chaewon teased and tantalized you with her cock, Yunjin couldn't help but be drawn into the electrifying scene unfolding before her. Her breath quickened as she watched, her own arousal mounting with each passing moment.

With a seductive smirk, Chaewon glanced over at Yunjin, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Why don't you join in, Yunjin?" she purred, her voice filled with desire. "I'm sure Y/n wouldn't mind having both of us to play with."

Yunjin's cheeks flushed with excitement as she nodded eagerly, her hands trembling as she pushed you off with anticipation as she reached out to join in the erotic encounter. With trembling fingers, she began to stroke her own cock, mirroring the rhythm of Chaewon's movements as she teased you with her own.

You gasped in pleasure as Yunjin's hands joined in, the sensation of being pleasured by both of them driving you to new heights of ecstasy. Your body trembled with pleasure as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming sensations, lost in the intoxicating haze of desire.

The room was filled with the sound of your moans and gasps, mingling with the slick sounds of flesh slapping against eachother as the three of you indulged in the forbidden pleasure. With each passing moment, the intensity of your arousal grew, driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As the pleasure mounted, you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of release, the tantalizing touch of Chaewon and Yunjin pushing you over the edge into blissful oblivion. With a final, ecstatic cry, you succumbed to the overwhelming waves of pleasure, your body convulsing with ecstasy as you reached the pinnacle of pleasure.

Chaewon pounded into you, driving you to new heights of pleasure, Yunjin seized the opportunity to indulge in her own desires. With a hunger in her eyes, she reclaimed your mouth, her lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss.

You moaned into the kiss, your body responding eagerly to her touch as she deepened the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless. Meanwhile, Chaewon's relentless thrusts sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

With a wicked grin, Yunjin broke the kiss, her eyes glinting with mischief as she pushed you down onto the bed. "Open wide, Y/n," she whispered, her voice husky with desire, "I want to fuck your face."

Without hesitation, she positioned herself above you, her cock poised at your lips as she thrust forward, forcing you to take her into your mouth once again. You eagerly complied, sucking and stroking her with enthusiasm as she face-fucked you with a relentless rhythm.

The sensation was overwhelming, the dual stimulation of Chaewon's thrusts and Yunjin's cock driving you to new heights of pleasure. You moaned around Yunjin's cock, the vibrations sending shivers of ecstasy coursing through her as she drove herself deeper into your mouth.

Lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure, you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensations, your body trembling with desire as you were consumed by the ecstasy of the moment. With each passing moment, the intensity of your arousal grew, driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Chaewon continued to thrust into you with unrelenting fervor, the intensity of her movements driving you to the brink of ecstasy, you felt her body tense with impending release. With a sharp cry of pleasure, Chaewon reached her peak, her hips bucking wildly as she spilled her seed deep inside you.

"Fuck, Y/n, you feel so fucking good," Chaewon gasped, her voice filled with ecstasy as she emptied herself into you. "You like that, huh? You like taking my cock deep inside you."

You gasped in pleasure as you felt her hot release filling you, waves of pleasure washing over you as she emptied herself into you completely. "God, yes," you muttered against Yunjins cock, your voice filled with need. "I love it, Chaewon. I love feeling you inside me."

With one final, powerful thrust, Chaewon collapsed against you, spent from the intensity of her climax. "Fuck," she breathed, her voice husky with satisfaction.

Feeling Chaewon's release triggered your own, you cried out in pleasure, your body convulsing with ecstasy as you reached the pinnacle of bliss. The sensation of her cumming inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you over the edge into an explosive climax of your own.

Meanwhile, Yunjin's cock remained in your mouth, her own pleasure evident as she moaned and gasped in response to the erotic scene unfolding before her. With a wicked grin, Chaewon withdrew from you, her fingers finding their way to your needy clit as she began to rub it with expert precision.

"Look at you, Y/n," Chaewon purred, her voice dripping with desire, "so desperate for release. You're such a little slut, aren't you?"

You moaned in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure washed over you in waves. Chaewon's fingers worked tirelessly, driving you to new heights of ecstasy as she teased and tormented your sensitive clit.

And then, with a sharp cry of release, you reached your climax once again, your body trembling with the force of your release as pleasure consumed you entirely. The room was filled with the sound of your moans and gasps, mingling with the slick sounds of flesh against flesh as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming sensations.

As you and Chaewon basked in the aftermath of your climaxes, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction, Yunjin seized the opportunity to indulge in her own pleasure. With a low, guttural moan, she reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, her body trembling with the force of her release.

Feeling Yunjin's cock throb with the intensity of her climax, you eagerly accepted her into your mouth, welcoming her cum with open lips. You moaned in delight as Yunjin spilled her seed into your waiting mouth, the taste of her release driving you wild.

With each pulse of pleasure, you eagerly drank down every drop of her cum, savoring the taste of her release as it filled your mouth. The sensation of her cum mingling with yours sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, heightening the intensity of your own pleasure.

As Yunjin's climax subsided, you swallowed her seed with a satisfied sigh, relishing the taste of her release as it lingered on your tongue. The room was filled with the sound of your satisfied moans and the slick sounds of flesh against flesh as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming sensations.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, leaving all of you spent and breathless, you collapsed together in a tangled heap on the floor, limbs entwined in a deliciously intimate embrace. The room was filled with the heavy, heady scent of sex, a tangible reminder of the passion that had consumed you all.

"Fuck, that was amazing," Chaewon exclaimed, her voice laced with satisfaction as she caught her breath. A playful laugh escaped her lips as she added, "We should definitely do this again."

You hummed in agreement, a lazy smile gracing your lips as you reveled in the shared moment of intimacy. The rush of endorphins coursing through your veins left you feeling warm and content, your body tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

Beside you, Yunjin blushed at the suggestion, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. She couldn't bring herself to meet your gaze, but the shy smile that tugged at the corners of her lips spoke volumes.

As the three of you lay there in a blissful post-coital haze, basking in the afterglow of the unforgettable experience, a sense of camaraderie and closeness settled over you like a warm blanket. It was a moment you knew you would cherish forever, a memory that would bind you together in an unbreakable bond of shared pleasure and intimacy.

“Round 2 in my room?”

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter five | part one | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Sejanus Plinth finds his soulmate in one of the tributes

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i was so afraid to write this, but here it goes anyways, make sure to give me y'all feedback! the chapter is divided in two parts, this is part one!

beta read by the AMAZING @nowitsmissing

series masterlist | navigation

Coriolanus Snow didn't sleep a wink, it was perhaps at six that he managed to finish the backup proposal. He was dissatisfied with it. it wasn't nearly as good as his original ideas, but it would have to make do if you turned about to be a snake.

In someplace in his heart, he knew that you wouldn't take credit for his work. But he also knew better than to believe his heart over his mind. Being foolish and lovesick gets you nowhere.

After an undeserving cold shower and a meal of potatoes and (expired) milk with grandma’am and Tigris. He draped himself in the Academy uniform and went to the Capitol Zoo as there was time before classes began.

He ignored the aching of his legs as he arrived, he ignored the jealousy that brewed when he saw Sejanus get out of his fancy car, arriving a few minutes later Coryo had.

Sejanus was carrying a bag, the weight of it heavy as it was filled with food Coriolanus had instructed him to bring. Despite the fact that he could have sneaked food from the cafeteria solely for his tribute, he felt Dean's eyes on him more than ever. He refused to be labeled as a thief.

Sejanus greeted him with a grin and Coriolanus replied with his greeting. He ignored the way his stomach seemed to contract with the need for more food. He refused to cave in. He and Sejanus walked side by side towards the cage, the blood outside was cleaned but the blood of the district ten girl seemed to be rotting in the confinement of the cage. Filling the surrounding area with a pungent smell that made Coryo want to hurl and empty his stomach.

He bit the inside of his cheek to control the urge. Sejanus went to the other side to find his tribute, Marcus, a district two boy who was his ex-classmate. It was pathetic to Snow that after so many years Sejanus still thought of himself as district scum despite being right.

He greets Lucy Gray with a smile on his face. Lucy, with her southern accent, replied, “I am sorry about your friend.” Coriolanus shrugged it off. Arachne was never his friend, but no need to disrespect the death. “Thank you,” he replied politely, as he handed her the sandwich from the cage.

Coriolanus looks at Jessup, district twelve boy, your tribute. He had a nasty bite on his neck. Lucy Gray sees him eyeing the wound and she begins to explain,

“He kept the bats away from me on the train. So I could get some sleep, he was bitten.”

Coriolanus nodded in response, it looked like Jessup was out before the game even began. One dead, twenty-three to go. He hides the flash of joy he feels in his chest and says, “He seems like a good person.”

“He is,” Lucy Gray emphasized, “He doesn't deserve to be here and neither do I.”

Coriolanus didn't want to get into the moral argument so he stayed quiet, thankfully not even a whole minute passed as Sejanus strutted towards them, his shoulders down, his expression defeated.

It took everything in Coriolanus not to smirk at the kick-down puppy.

Sejanus came to him, his eyes glossed with sadness, “Marcus turned the other tributes against me. They aren't taking the food.”

Sejanus Plinth turned to Lucy Gray, “You… Can you help? They might eat if you give it to them.”

Lucy Gray nodded and Coriolanus felt irritated that Sejanus wasn't asking Coryo for permission first, it was his songbird after all. But he didn't say anything and watched the interaction unfold.

That's when the most unexpected thing happened. Sejanus Plinth lets out a sob as he catches the sight of Lucy Gray's wrist, the black ink on her skin, her soulmate number. Coriolanus Snow sees the recognition Sejanus has in his eyes as he looks at the date.

He knows the number.

Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray are soulmates.

Coryo got over his shock quickly when he realized the irony of the situation. A mentor and tribute. Both are from the districts but have vastly different lives. A songbird and a boy Coriolanus Snow wished could sew his mouth shut.

Fitting.

He could barely manage the smile off his face but then he remembered you and his burnt wrist. The smirk turned grim, and he was glad that he was not the only one sharing the misery despite it being with Sejanus. Now Sej knew what it felt like, let him suffer, let's see if daddy's money works here.

He tuned out as Sejanus and Lucy Gray talked. Lucy Gray doesn't cry but Sejanus has enough tears for both and Coriolanus wants to scoff. But instead, he puts a hand on Sejanus' shoulder and gives him what he thinks is a comforting squeeze.

“We have to go,” he said, his eyes flashing to Lucy, hoping she was more rational than her counterpart. “There are classes to attend.” Coriolanus Snow refuses to be late and has that on his record. Unfortunately, he can't voice that reason out. “We have to go,” Snow insisted to Sejanus.

“Go,” the songbird encourages, taking Sejanus's hand in hers. She gives him an awkward but genuine smile, not meant for the TV. Something special. “I'll be here,” she joked and it worked horribly as more sobs seemed to wreck the Plinth boy.

Coriolanus gives a pitiful stare to Lucy before dragging the boy out of the zoo and shoving him into the car. He barks the order to drive and relishes briefly at how the driver had flinched. Sejanus continues to cry and despise Snow feels the urge to knock him out. He doesn't. Instead, he runs his thumb over the raised flesh on his wrist and redirects his thoughts to you and yesterday (he refuses to acknowledge the sin he committed at night)

Yesterday was refreshing. Nice company (though his mind didn't seem to want to admit that). Full stomach. And despite the panic attack, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed you. Spending moments with you was rare throughout the years, it took Coriolanus a long time not to retch whenever he saw you. It was better now, he was mature, nothing like the eight-year-old but with the same thoughts nonetheless.

Despite everything you're not worthy of being his soulmate.

Sejanus managed to control himself, picking his pieces up and licking his wounds as they got closer to the academy. As they reached the gates, Coriolanus' hand reached to open the door. Sejanus' voice stopped him.

“Make sure she wins, Coriolanus. Please”

“I will try my best,” was all Snow said in return. Before Coriolanus is fully out of the car, he turns to Sejanus and says, “Buy a guitar for your girl.”

His songbird. Coryo's songbird. His soulmate. Snows’ Victor.

“And keep it a secret, Sejanus.”

He can't let the Plinth boy take the glory when she wins.

NEXT PART

[novaursa]

The Games We Play (ambition of the heart)

- Summary: The dragon catches Otto’s attention, and he decides to charm you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Otto Hightower

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: persevere

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The morning sun filters into the council chamber, bathing the room in a soft glow as Viserys sits comfortably at the head of the table, absentmindedly fiddling with a model of Old Valyria. His focus drifts between the conversations happening around him and the delicate dragon he’s holding, completely unaware of the subtle glances from Otto Hightower.

Otto, standing to Viserys’s right, is carefully choosing his moment. His expression is calm, but behind his eyes, one can see the wheels turning—his mind already crafting the words that will gently nudge Viserys in the direction he’s hoping for.

Tyland Lannister, sitting further down the table, is flipping through some reports, occasionally glancing up when something catches his attention. His sharp eyes narrow slightly when he notices Otto lingering near the king. A knowing smirk tugs at Tyland’s lips, though it quickly disappears when Otto glances in his direction.

“Your Grace,” Otto begins, voice as smooth as ever. “I’ve been meaning to discuss something… of a more personal nature.”

Viserys looks up from his dragon model, blinking as if he’s been shaken from a pleasant daydream. “Hmm? What’s that, Otto? Something urgent?”

Otto hesitates for only a second, choosing his words with care. “Not urgent, Your Grace. Merely... a suggestion regarding the future. Your dear sister, Princess Y/N—she’s been without a match for some time now.”

At this, Tyland’s head snaps up so quickly it’s a wonder he doesn’t pull a muscle. His eyes widen, darting between Otto and Viserys, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. His mouth opens slightly, but no words come out, only a stunned, breathy sound of confusion. He starts to speak, then stops, his eyes narrowing in disbelief as he realizes what Otto is getting at.

Viserys, however, remains as oblivious as ever, nodding along amiably. “Ah, yes. Y/N... always headstrong, isn’t she?” He chuckles, shaking his head fondly. “She’s never been one for courtship, has she?”

Otto leans in just a fraction closer, his voice softening to a conspiratorial tone. “Perhaps she simply requires the right guidance... a husband of good character, one who understands the value of her wisdom, her strength.”

Viserys raises an eyebrow, his attention already wandering back to his dragon model. “Aye, she could use someone patient, I suppose. Someone who won’t get in her way when she’s deep in those histories of hers.”

Tyland nearly chokes on his wine, setting the goblet down with a clatter that draws both men’s attention. His expression is a mix of horror and astonishment as he realizes exactly what Otto is suggesting.

“Lord Otto…” Tyland begins, voice low and incredulous, “are you—”

But before he can finish, Alicent, who has been standing near the door, quickly steps forward, eyes wide with alarm. “Father,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, “perhaps this is a matter best left alone. Y/N is content as she is.”

Otto shoots her a pointed look, barely raising an eyebrow. “Alicent, this is a matter between men. I’m sure you understand.”

Alicent hesitates, clearly torn between intervening further and respecting her father’s wishes. She bites her lip, glancing worriedly at Viserys, who is still blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around him.

“But, Father—” she tries again, her voice more urgent, though still soft.

Otto holds up a hand to stop her, his tone gentle but firm. “You need not worry, Alicent. I have nothing but the most honorable intentions toward Princess Y/N.”

Alicent’s eyes widen in disbelief, but before she can protest further, Viserys chuckles again, entirely missing the subtlety of the situation. “Aye, well, she’s a difficult one to match, I’ll grant you that. I suppose it would take a steady hand to guide her.” He sets his dragon model down and stretches, oblivious to the tension now simmering in the room.

Otto’s lips twitch, and for a moment, there’s a flash of triumph in his eyes. “Precisely, Your Grace. A steady hand… one who could offer her not just companionship, but also… stability.” His tone is so diplomatic that it could almost be mistaken for simple concern—almost.

Tyland, however, is no fool. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table as he studies Otto with a look of sheer disbelief. “Are you actually… suggesting yourself, Lord Hightower?” His voice is laced with barely contained shock.

Viserys, finally catching on to the underlying meaning, blinks in confusion. “What? Otto? Oh, surely not.” He laughs heartily, slapping the table. “You, courting Y/N? That would be—well, that’s amusing, Otto. Quite the jest!”

Alicent covers her face with one hand, as if she can’t bear to watch what’s unfolding, while Tyland openly gapes at the scene, his mouth hanging open like a man who’s just seen a horse sprout wings.

Otto clears his throat, still managing to keep his composure, though a faint blush creeps into his cheeks. “Your Grace, I assure you, my suggestion was made in earnest.”

Viserys stops laughing abruptly, blinking at Otto as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re serious?”

Otto nods, his expression as dignified as ever. “Indeed, Your Grace. I believe Princess Y/N and I would make a fine match. I have great respect for her, and she deserves someone who can offer her stability and wisdom.”

For a moment, Viserys simply stares at Otto, as if trying to process the absurdity of what he’s just heard. Finally, he breaks into a smile, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well… I must say, I hadn’t considered that. But…” He chuckles again, clearly amused by the idea, though not taking it nearly as seriously as Otto might hope.

“You always were a loyal advisor, Otto,” Viserys says, still smiling. “But Y/N… well, she’s not exactly one for arrangements, as you know. I’ll speak with her about it if you’d like, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Otto, sensing that this is as close to a victory as he’s going to get today, nods graciously. “I would be honored if you did, Your Grace. Whatever her decision, I will respect it.”

Tyland lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, shaking his head as if to clear the madness from it. Alicent, meanwhile, glances between her father and Viserys, her mouth slightly agape, clearly at a loss for words.

As the meeting comes to a close, Otto steps back, allowing the conversation to shift to more mundane matters. But Tyland’s eyes never leave him, and as they exit the room, he leans over to Alicent, muttering, “He’s mad, isn’t he? Completely mad.”

Alicent can only offer a small, weary nod in return. “You have no idea.”

Meanwhile, Viserys walks away, humming softly to himself, entirely unaware of the storm Otto Hightower has just kicked up in his court—one that may yet become far more complicated than anyone realizes.

You were sitting with your brother, Daemon in the gardens. The two of you are lounging by a fountain, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Daemon, ever the restless one, has his sword laid across his lap, lazily cleaning it as he tells you about his latest escapades with a smug grin plastered on his face.

"And then the fool had the nerve to challenge me to a duel. Can you imagine?" Daemon chuckles, shaking his head. "As if any knight in this kingdom could best me. Honestly, Y/N, I sometimes wonder if they breed these men without a brain between their ears."

You smile, more focused on the scroll of Valyrian poetry in your lap than Daemon’s boasting. "Perhaps they just enjoy getting humiliated. You do have a way of making it memorable."

Before Daemon can retort, you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. You both glance up to see Viserys wandering towards you, his expression a little more focused than usual, though still managing to look as though he’s been mulling over something far too trivial for his position as king.

“Ah, Y/N, Daemon,” he greets, plopping down beside you on the stone bench with a long sigh, completely oblivious to the two of you exchanging a knowing glance. “I’ve been looking for you, Y/N. There’s something… well, something important I need to discuss with you.”

Daemon quirks an eyebrow, immediately suspicious, while you close your scroll and turn your attention to your older brother. “Important? Is something wrong?”

Viserys waves a hand dismissively. “No, no, nothing’s wrong.” He clears his throat, clearly trying to find the right words. “It’s… it’s about your future, Y/N. You know you’re not getting any younger.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Is that so, brother? Do go on.”

Daemon, who’s now leaning against the fountain, arms crossed over his chest, smirks knowingly. “This ought to be good.”

Viserys shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, you see… Otto came to me recently. He, um… he brought up an interesting idea. One that I think might… be worth considering.”

You blink at him, already feeling the beginning of some sort of absurdity about to unfold. “And what exactly is this idea?”

Viserys smiles sheepishly. “He proposed that perhaps you and he… you know, that you might… make a match.”

There’s a long, stunned silence. You stare at him, completely dumbfounded, while Daemon’s smirk vanishes, replaced by an expression of absolute horror. For a moment, the only sound is the gentle splash of water from the fountain.

Finally, Daemon breaks the silence. “Otto Hightower?” he says, voice dripping with disbelief. “You’re joking.”

Viserys waves his hands frantically, trying to quell the growing tension. “No, no! He was quite serious, actually. Said something about you needing stability and someone who appreciates your wisdom.”

You exchange a look with Daemon, whose expression has morphed from disbelief into outright disgust. “Stability? Wisdom? Hightower? Viserys, have you been breathing in too much incense again?”

You try to suppress your laughter, but it bubbles up despite yourself. “Are you actually suggesting I marry Otto Hightower? The man who’s older than half the trees in the godswood?”

Viserys raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I know it sounds... unusual, but hear me out! Otto is a respectable man, Y/N. Loyal. And he’s already part of our family in a way, through Alicent.”

Daemon cuts in before you can respond, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Yes, brother, and what a wonderful idea it would be for Y/N to marry Alicent's father. Because nothing says romance like dining with your wife while her father stares at your sister longingly across the table.”

You can’t help but laugh at that image, though you quickly cover your mouth. Viserys frowns, clearly not understanding why this is being taken as a joke.

“I’m serious!” he insists, as if that’s going to make it sound any less ridiculous. “Otto is one of my most trusted advisors, and he genuinely admires you, Y/N. He would be a steady hand, someone you could depend on.”

“Steady hand?” Daemon scoffs, eyes narrowing. “You mean he’d keep her under lock and key, stifling her with council meetings and endless lectures on duty. No, thank you.”

You give Viserys a pointed look, trying your best to keep your tone light. “Brother, I appreciate your concern, but marrying Otto Hightower sounds about as appealing as taking a vow of silence and living in the Citadel.”

Viserys looks genuinely confused, his brow furrowing. “But… Otto is a good man, Y/N. He respects you. He even said something about… about your interest in books. Surely that’s something you two could bond over?”

“Books?” Daemon cuts in again, now looking thoroughly annoyed. “Viserys, the man can barely hold a sword, let alone keep up with Y/N’s knowledge. Do you really think she’s going to be wooed by discussions of grain shipments and council politics?”

You shake your head, placing a hand on Viserys’s shoulder to soften the blow. “Viserys, Otto is… not exactly what I’m looking for in a husband. I’m sure he means well, but I have no desire to become the Lady of Parchments and Ledgers.”

Viserys, still not fully grasping the absurdity of what he’s suggested, sighs heavily. “I just thought it might be a good match. Otto’s been very persistent about it.”

Daemon, now pacing behind you, mutters under his breath, “I’ll bet he has.”

“Look, Viserys,” you say gently, trying to spare your brother from further embarrassment, “I’m perfectly happy without being married off to your Hand. Otto is many things, but a romantic suitor isn’t one of them.”

Viserys finally seems to register your resistance, though he still looks vaguely disappointed. “Well… if you’re sure. I just thought—”

“Viserys,” Daemon interrupts, placing a hand on his shoulder with a grin, “trust me. The last thing Y/N needs is a husband like Otto Hightower. What she needs is someone with a spine, not someone who’ll treat her like a particularly prized manuscript.”

You chuckle at that, patting Viserys’s arm. “Daemon’s right, for once. I’m sure Otto will understand that we’re not exactly… suited.”

Viserys sighs again, though a small smile tugs at his lips as he looks between you and Daemon. “I suppose I should’ve expected this. Very well, Y/N. I won’t push the matter any further. But don’t be surprised if Otto finds another way to bring it up. He’s a persistent one, that man.”

As Viserys walks off, still muttering about Otto’s persistence, Daemon turns to you with a mischievous grin. “Can you imagine it? You, married to Otto Hightower? Seven hells, I’d sooner see you wed to one of those statues in the Red Keep.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly, I’m not sure who would be more miserable—me, or Otto.”

Daemon chuckles darkly, giving you a nudge. “Come, let’s find something to do that doesn’t involve discussing that old vulture’s love life.”

You stand and link arms with him, walking back toward the keep. But in the back of your mind, you can’t help but wonder what Otto will try next. Whatever it is, you’re sure it will be just as ridiculous as today’s attempt.

Alicent paced back and forth in her chambers, her gown swishing softly across the floor as she rehearsed the words in her head for the fiftieth time. Confronting her father was not a task she took lightly, but ever since that absurd conversation in the council chambers earlier, she hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

Her father. Otto Hightower. With… her.

It was unthinkable.

With a deep breath, Alicent steeled herself and marched toward Otto’s solar. When she arrived, she found him seated at his desk, as usual, surrounded by scrolls and papers. He looked up at her entrance, his eyes mild but quickly registering the determination in her expression.

“Father,” she began, not even bothering with pleasantries, “we need to talk.”

Otto set down his quill and folded his hands on the desk, regarding her with that calm, unreadable expression that always made her feel like a child again. “Alicent. What troubles you?”

Alicent stood before him, arms crossed, her brows knitted together in a mix of confusion and disbelief. “Earlier, in the council chambers. Your suggestion to Viserys about… a match with Y/N. Is it true? Were you actually serious?”

Otto didn’t flinch, though there was a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. “Yes, I was.”

Alicent blinked, completely thrown by how casually he admitted it. “But… but why? I can’t imagine—Father, you’ve always been… you loved Mother.” Her voice wavered, as though speaking about her late mother might conjure her memory into the room. “I never thought you would consider… anyone else. Especially her.”

Otto’s expression softened slightly, but he remained composed. “Alicent, your mother was a great love in my life. I would never compare anyone to her. But life moves forward. Y/N is—”

“Y/N?” Alicent cut him off, her voice rising in disbelief. “A Targaryen princess? My friend? Father, she’s nothing like Mother, or like anyone you’ve ever shown interest in, for that matter!”

Otto exhaled, clearly choosing his next words carefully. “Y/N is intelligent, wise beyond her years. She holds a unique place in the court, one that would strengthen our family’s position even further—”

“Position?” Alicent’s eyes narrowed, pacing again as she processed his words. “So this is political, then. That’s all this is to you.”

Otto raised a hand, a placating gesture, though his expression tightened slightly. “Alicent, it’s not merely political. Y/N is an admirable woman. Her presence would bring stability to the court, to our family. And I—”

“You what?” Alicent stopped mid-step, her eyes widening in realization. “Wait. This isn’t just about politics, is it?” She stared at him, her voice softening with a hint of disbelief. “You… you actually have feelings for her, don’t you?”

Otto hesitated, the slightest crack in his otherwise impenetrable facade. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. His fingers drummed on the desk, a small, telltale sign that he was weighing his response.

“Alicent,” he finally said, his voice measured, “I admire her. Greatly. Y/N is a woman of character, intelligence, and grace. I’ve long respected her, but perhaps I’ve come to—” He paused again, as though even he was reluctant to admit what came next. “Perhaps I’ve come to see her as more than just a political ally.”

Alicent’s jaw dropped, her arms falling to her sides in stunned disbelief. She had expected this to be a matter of cold logic, of strategic alliances and power. But her father, the ever-calculating, stoic Otto Hightower, was smitten? With a Targaryen princess who, by all accounts, seemed more interested in ancient scrolls than courtly love?

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Alicent stammered, sinking into the nearest chair, her mind racing. “Father, this is… I never imagined you’d be…” She trailed off, searching for the right word. “Romantic,” she finished weakly.

Otto gave her a faint smile, though it was tinged with a hint of exasperation. “Alicent, I’m not as cold and heartless as you seem to think.”

“No, of course not,” Alicent quickly replied, her cheeks flushing. “It’s just… I’ve never seen you show interest in anyone since Mother passed. And now, of all people, it’s Y/N. It’s just…” She shook her head, incredulous. “Unexpected.”

Otto stood and walked over to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “Y/N is different. She’s strong in a way that few in this court are. I’ve come to appreciate that more over the years. She challenges people, but with a sense of dignity and grace.” He turned to Alicent, his eyes betraying more emotion than she was used to seeing in him. “I admire her.”

Alicent stared at him, utterly baffled. “You admire her? That’s what this is? You’ve fallen in love with her because she reads history books and doesn’t care what people think of her?”

Otto raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement. “You make it sound as though I’m a lovesick boy.”

“Well, aren’t you?” Alicent shot back, more flustered than she had intended. “You’ve been subtly trying to woo her, and you think I wouldn’t notice? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Father, this isn’t like you.”

He chuckled softly, a rare sound that made her feel even more unsettled. “People change, Alicent. I never expected this either. But the more time I’ve spent around Y/N, the more I’ve come to value her presence. She’s not just an asset to the throne—she’s…” He paused, searching for the right word, then settled with a simple, “...remarkable.”

Alicent rubbed her temples, trying to process what she was hearing. “You realize how bizarre this sounds, don’t you? Y/N is practically a sister to me. And you’re proposing that she could be… I don’t even know what to call it. My stepmother?”

Otto grimaced slightly at that, clearly not thrilled with the phrasing. “It’s not as strange as you think, Alicent.”

“Not as strange?” she repeated, incredulously. “Father, Viserys practically laughed in your face when you suggested it to him. And Daemon—Daemon—would sooner fly you out of the Keep on Caraxes than allow this to happen.”

Otto sighed, his composure returning as he leaned against the windowsill. “I’m well aware that this will be… difficult. But I believe it’s worth pursuing.”

Alicent looked at him for a long moment, searching his face for any trace of hesitation or doubt. But there was none. Instead, there was a strange, almost serene conviction that unsettled her even more.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Otto Hightower, smitten with a Targaryen princess.”

Otto smiled faintly. “The world is full of surprises, Alicent.”

She stood up, still grappling with the absurdity of it all, and gave him a long, searching look. “You truly believe this is a good idea?”

“I do,” he said, without hesitation.

Alicent sighed, rubbing her temples again. “Well… I suppose stranger things have happened. But I can’t say I’ll ever get used to the idea of you and Y/N.”

Otto’s smile widened just a fraction. “Give it time, my dear. Who knows? You may yet come to appreciate it.”

Alicent shook her head again, still not entirely sure whether to laugh or cry. “I suppose we’ll see.” As she turned to leave, she paused at the door, looking back at him with a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement. “Just… promise me you won’t try serenading her in the gardens or anything.”

Otto chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll leave that to the poets.”

Alicent nodded, still muttering to herself as she left the room, unable to shake the image of her father wooing a Targaryen princess. "What has the world come to…"

[sophrosynesworld]

Betrayal (pt.3)

Part One: You find your Pro-Hero boyfriend rummaging through your office.

The midday sun pours through large bay windows, casting warm shadows on the wooden floor. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods mingles in the air, wrapping me in a comforting embrace. I adjust my sitting position across from Nejire, a bright smile dancing on her lips as she leans in, her azure eyes sparkling.

"I still can't believe you dated him," Nejire teases, her voice laced with playful disbelief. She takes a sip of her iced latte, her gaze never leaving mine.

I force a laugh, stirring my coffee absently. "Me either, I don't know what I was thinking." The words feel hollow, a familiar ache in my chest. I take a sip, the warmth of the coffee soothing.

Nejire rolls her eyes dramatically. "I bet even date nights turned into some kind of contest."

I manage a small smile, memories flashing before my eyes. "You have no idea." I reminisce. "Last year, we went to an amusement park and he insisted on winning every game at the arcade after a little kid laughed at him for missing the balloon. By the end of the night, I had so many stuffed animals that we could barely carry them all."

Hado bursts into laughter, her joy contagious. "Is it wrong I can't imagine him ever just relaxing or having fun?"

I try to laugh along, the sound feeling foreign in my throat. "Only on Sunday."

Nejire's expression softens, concern evident in her eyes. "Hey, are you okay? You seem… off."

I sigh, the façade crumbling. "It's just… I still love him, Hado. Despite everything, I thought we had something real… I thought he was going to marry me." My voice wavers, the words heavy with longing.

Nejire reaches across the table, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm so sorry. I really am. I can't imagine how hard that must be for you."

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. "It's just hard to let go, you know? We had so many good moments, and I can't help but think about what could have been." I pause, the weight of my next words sinking in. "I don't have anyone else, Hado. My father sacrificed everything to raise me. I can't turn my back on him."

Nejire nods. "I hear you. Love isn't something you can just switch off. You’re making the right decision, no matter who you pick."

I sigh again, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering sadness. "Thanks, Nejire."

"Anytime."

Just as I begin to speak, my phone vibrates on the table, the sudden motion startling me. I glance at the screen, my father's name flashing. My heart lifts instantly, a genuine smile spreading across my face.

"Speak of the devil." I pick up the call, anticipation bubbling in my chest. "Hi, Dad!"

"Sweetheart!" His voice booms with warmth and affection, instantly making me feel lighter. "How's my girl doing today?"

"I'm good. Just catching up with Nejire in Aichi. What's up?"

"I'm sending a car to pick you up," he states, a hint of excitement in his tone. "I have a surprise for you at the office. Think you can make it?"

"Of course!" I hear the joy in my own voice, my mind racing with possibilities.

"Great! See you soon, sweetheart. Love you."

"Love you too, Dad." I end the call and turn back to Nejire. "Looks like I have to cut this short. My dad's sending a car to pick me up."

Nejire's eyes widen with curiosity. "A surprise, huh? Sounds exciting! You have to tell me all about it later."

We talk a little longer about work and mutual friends. For a moment, I feel normal again, like I never came home that night. Would he have told me?

Just as Nejire finishes speaking, a tall figure approaches our table. I look up to see one of my dad's bodyguards, Taro. He stands a few steps away, waiting patiently for me to acknowledge him. His presence is a stark contrast to the cozy atmosphere, his formal attire and stoic expression reminding me of my reality.

"Excuse me, miss," his voice is low and rich, a touch of formality in his tone. Nejire raises an eyebrow at me after ogling him, her smile hidden behind a raised cup. "The car is ready whenever you are."

I smile at him, appreciating his professionalism. "Thank you. I'll be out in just a moment."

Turning back to Nejire, I give her a quick hug. "Looks like it's time for me to go. Thanks for everything, Nejire. Maybe our paths will cross at work sometime soon."

"It was so much fun last time," she says, returning the hug. "I hope he's your surprise," Hado winks, causing my cheeks to flush.

With one last smile, I gather my things and follow the guard out of the café. A sleek black car is waiting at the curb, its polished surface gleaming in the sunlight.

As I slide into the back seat, Taro waits patiently, then once I’m seated, he softly closes the door.

The car glides smoothly through the bustling city streets, the hum of the engine a soothing background noise. I sit back, fingers tapping lightly against the cool leather of the seat. The cityscape blurs past, tall buildings casting long shadows in the afternoon light. The faint scent of Taro's cologne mixes with the car's pristine interior, creating an oddly calming atmosphere.

I glance out the window, watching people go about their day. My mind drifts to my dad and the surprise he mentioned. He always has a way of making even the smallest gestures feel grand. A smile tugs at my lips, remembering the birthday party he threw for me 3 years ago—the night I meet Mr. and Mrs. Bakugo for the first time.

The car comes to a gentle stop in front of the skyscrapers. Their sleek, modern design looms over the surrounding buildings, a testament to success. Taro steps out first, moving with practiced efficiency as he opens my door. He extends his hand, his expression still.

"Miss," he says, his voice as steady as ever.

I take his hand, a shiver running down my spine at the surprising cold temperature. "Thanks, Taro." His grip is firm yet gentle, helping me rise from the car with ease.

We head into the lobby, and through security with ease. Before stepping into the elevator, the doors closing with a soft whoosh. The ride up is silent, except for the gentle hum of hold music. Taro stands beside me, his eyes forward. I steal a glance at him, wondering what goes on in his mind during this job.

The elevator dings softly as we reach our floor. The doors slide open, revealing a spacious lobby lined with modern art. Taro gestures for me to lead the way, and I do so, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

The receptionist quickly picks up her phone announcing my presence to him as I pass. Taro steps forward, opening the office door allowing me to step inside.

My dad's office is as grand as ever, a blend of luxury and power. The walls are adorned with articles and photographs, each telling a story of his success. He stands by the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the city.

"Papa," I call softly, stepping further inside. The faint scent of cologne mingles with the rich aroma of leather and wood.

He turns, a broad smile lighting up his face. "Sweetheart," he says warmly, opening his arms. I move into his embrace, feeling the familiar strength and reassurance in his hug.

"It's good to see you," I say, pulling back to look at him. "You mentioned a surprise?"

He chuckles. "You’re quick with it. Come, sit." Dad gestures to the chair opposite to his desk. As I settle, I notice the subtle signs of wear on his eyes.

"You've done a lot of work for our company, and I wanted to show you how much I appreciate your sacrifices."

"You didn't have to, Dad. You paid for my law school, I can read over files every once and awhile."

"Nonsense," he says, waving away my words. "You deserve the world, my dear." Papa reaches into a drawer, pulling out a sleek black box. He hands it to me, his eyes glinting with something I can't quite place.

I open the box, revealing a stunning necklace, the gems catching the light in a dazzling display. "Oh, Dad, it's beautiful," I breathe, touched by the gesture.

He smiles, but there's something in his eyes—something fleeting. "Only the best for my girl."

I reach out, giving his hand a squeeze. " thank you. It’s breathtaking."

"Anything for you," he says, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Now, tell me all about your day."

As I recount my time at the café with Nejire, he listens intently, his expression a blend of warmth and pride. But then he shifts in his seat, his tone becoming casual—too casual.

"So, how's Katsuki doing?" he questions, his tone playful.

My heart skips a beat, and I force a neutral expression. "We broke up," I reply, trying to keep my tone steady. "It just didn't work out."

He raises an eyebrow, surprised. "Really? What happened?"

I hesitate, feeling a strange tension in the air. "We just grew apart. Our priorities were different."

He nods slowly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Well, sometimes these things happen for a reason. You deserve someone who truly appreciates you."

Something about his reaction feels off, but I can't put my finger on it. "Yeah, I guess so."

He leans back, eyes never leaving mine. "Did he give you any trouble? You know I can handle it if he did."

"No, Dad. It was mutual. We're both adults."

"Of course, of course," he says smoothly, but there's an edge to his voice. "Just looking out for you."

I force a smile, but the nagging feeling in the back of my mind won't go away. "You always do."

"Now, let's focus on the positive. How about dinner tonight?"

"Sure," I agree, my mind is still spinning. Am I overanalyzing or is this… weird.

Part 4:

[moneymartin]

・❥・- one more?

summary: kate comes home tired and needy :( part two to this fic. build up drabble to part three

warnings: none! fluff cause its kate :3 this is kinda shorter than the last one soz. again, every divider is a skip. most are constant cuz im lazy. didn’t know how to end oops!!!

rpf dont read it if ur uncomfy thx

a/n: all yjs reqs r still itw soooo they’ll be out soon poopies 🙄 also my single part drabble for kate is lowk marinating in my drafts and i don’t have the motivation to finish it…

its been 5 months since you and kate finally ended up together. pretty long, right? but you two never really got the hang of this thing, especially after remembering how long those feelings between you two had been brewing up for. it was still hard for you to show up to her games and practice due to soccer season, and the second it ended, you showed up to nearly every single one of them.

“i really can’t come this time, baby, i told you!” you grumble while kate drags you across the dorm. they had their practice game at carver today but you couldn’t make it, which made kate upset. “dilanni is gonna kill me if i don’t show up.” your soccer team needed to show up together for this fundraiser, and it was during the offseason. fucking lame. you hated letting her down all the time but some things like this just needed to be done.

kate’s fingers grip at your sweater sleeve, her eyes soft, and lips slightly pouting. “can you please just say you feel sick!? you’ll finish quicker than i will and it’s not like they won’t let you in.” she begs and tugs a little at it. her height makes you a little overwhelmed but she’s slightly bent at the knees and trying to make herself seem smaller than she really is. “kate, its just practice. its not like its the final fours yet.” you sigh and make her stand up straight. your eyes dart to hers and you bring your hands up to cup her face. the way she leans into your touch makes your face flush up like never before.

“yeah, but you always show out! i know we’re still trying to keep this on the down low still but i love pointing at you in the crowd before i make a shot during our practices.” she complains, trying to pull her head away from your hands but you keep her in place like a vice. your thumb brushes up against her face and she sighs under her breath. all those shots that she makes have all been for you ever since. and you didn’t even know that. everything she did on the court was meant for you. “i’ll make a deal with you, okay?” your words make her feel a little bit better and she nods ecstatically.

“when you get back we can do whateverrrr you want to make you feel better about me not showing up. does that sound good?” you propose, the idea crossing your mind after you realize that she just wants to spend that time with you while her teammates try to piece together this big puzzle. none of them know other than caitlin, and they’re completely unaware of you and kate’s relationship. “yes! okay, deal! deal deal deal…!” she blurts out and smiles stupidly, leaning her head towards you again as a sign that she wants a kiss.

you give it and let go of her face, wrapping your arms around her waist quickly and pressing another big kiss to her cheek. “don’t work yourself too hard out there.” you breathe out and pat her back before letting go of it. “this fundraiser should only be an hour, trust me.” kate just shrugs and smiles again, less big but you still know that she’s pretty happy at your little proposition for when she gets back. the moment you walk out of that door, her face drops and she rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. she’s alone now, and doesn’t know what to do. you’ve been with her for every game and every practice so she’s lost most of her motivation to go. “aw, dang it..”

after your little fundraiser, you come home exhausted and dreary when you realize kate is gone too. you two are exactly the same person, lost without one another. it’s cute but sometimes it’s hard. this whole relationship thing is such a different concept and it makes your head hurt. the lock clicks on the door and you dig through your closet, finding a pair of pjs and some small shirt kate likes seeing you wear for ‘some reason’. which is what she says every time you ask.

a quick change and your casual clothes scatter across the floor before you basically face plant into the pillows. a warm feeling fills up your body while you fall asleep, a feeling that seems different still without kate. you two always sleep and take naps together so this is another thing you have to get yourself used to.

the stupid fundraiser ran longer than it should have. at least another 30-45 minutes extra and you weren’t very prepared for it. kids were all over the place too and you were somewhat on babysitting duty? according to your teammates. you stood with all the kids for at least an hour and the questions they asked you were probably the stupidest things ever.

the sound of the door opening is what wakes you up, fingers instinctively rubbing your eyes and sitting up. you’re met with the sight of kate rummaging sluggishly through her backpack and taking out clothes. she mumbles out a small ‘hi’ and yawns, walking into the bathroom. the sound of the shower hits your ears and you just lay back down, trying to keep yourself awake to fulfill that proposal you made earlier.

a few moments after the shower turns off, the bathroom door opens and your mattress shifts in weight, a few drops of water coaxing you to open up your eyes. kate is sitting on the edge of the bed and she tucks herself in, burying her face into your neck. “how was practice?” you mutter, moving her wet strands of hair to sprawl out on the bed. she grumbles into your neck instead of instantly responding. “tiring, huh?” you ask.

“extremely.” she whispers breathily and looks up at you. kate’s eyes are slightly droopy and her lips are pursed. your arm wraps itself around her back and you tilt her head up with your hand, making her look up at you as you start rubbing her temples gently. kate’s eyes are opening and closing continuously while your fingers continue to massage her head and she huffs heavily a few times.

you push kate’s head into your neck again and slide your hands onto her shoulders, patting them gently to make her fall asleep easier. she doesn’t though. instead, she hoists her head up and quickly locks her lips with yours, grabbing your waist and holding herself up with her arms. her fingers are gripping at the bedsheets tight and she’s kissing you a little bit too hard. not that you mind, of course. “mmmf.. hey?” you pant and pull away from the kiss, making eye contact with kate and realizing where she’s placed her hands.

“i’m just kissing you.” kate mumbles and doesn’t even bother waiting for you to finish catching your breath. she kisses you again, propping herself up on her elbows and grabbing your arms to wrap around her waist. “y- yeah! but like… let me get a breather at least.” you laugh quietly. you’re still trying to catch your breath and the more you try to get away, the more persistent she becomes. “c’mon. you’re just sleepy, baby. get your butt to bed and you’ll be alllll good in the morning.” you smile and push her shoulders down.

kate ends up falling onto your body and her nose brushes up against your cheek, her lips running up and down your neck as she starts kissing all over it. “one more..” she rasps out and slides her hands underneath your shirt. she starts to claw your back a few times, whining into your neck when you try to push her away. “kate, please.” you grunt and pull back, nearly falling off of the edge of the bed.

her face is the same one as earlier. her big, pretty blue eyes going soft and her lips pouting. she looks like a sad puppy and you hate it. you hate how you can’t say no to it. “just one more! this is the last one and i’ll sleep, i swear.” kate spits out and tilts her head to the side. she yawns, her eyes getting watery and now you know that it’s basically over for you. “i can’t.” you mutter. “yes, you can. it’s just one more kiss, babe. please?!”

“all you have to do is give me one, and i’ll sleep!”

“you say this all the time! you’re gonna say that you’ll ‘sleep after’ but the second my lips land on yours, you’re gonna act like an animal.”

“that’s not true.”

“oh, yeah? watch.”

you cup her cheeks and she grabs your waist gently, your lips going in for one quick one. when she feels how warm you are and how much you’re trying to really prove a point, she just helps your claim anyways. kate’s lips are against yours again, kissing hungrily.

i mean, she’s practically eating away at your face.

[bahrtofane]

blue thobe and tea

Jude but he’s your husband and it’s Eid. yay !

word count - 1.3K+

watch it - eid chaos and shenanigans

p.s. -Count this as my Eid gift to yall ! 

The clock reads a brisk 6:00 am, and you're late. Well, behind schedule. But still. 

Running around trying to find your shoes ( you swore you left them at the door but whatever) last minute ironing of clothes and fitting cookies in tupperware because the 50 you prepared isn't nearly enough. You've been in and out of the kitchen checking on the tea that's been steeping, brewing and boiling since you woke up.

You're still in your bath robe, clutching it closed while you do laps around your home. You left Jude still in bed, and he soon wakes at the commotion you're creating. 

Your ever-patient husband appears in the doorway with a bemused expression. His hair is much less neat than he likes and sleepy eyes only add to his charm. "What time even is it?" he grumbles, clearly not thrilled about the rush.

You glance at the clock, "We're running behind schedule," you admit, crossing your arms and shaking your head. 

Jude steps closer, wrapping his arms around you, “We'll make it work," he reassures, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You relax, even for a second, sighing softly. 

“I don't want to be late late,” you grumble into the crook of his neck.

He coos at you, petting your hair and promising he'll be extra quick getting ready.

You smile, eyes crinkling while sending him off to shower. In the time he takes to get showered, ready, changed. You've found your shoes, heels now clanking as you finish the last bit of prep.

The tea is ready, poured into each thermos and set on the table. Jude steps out of your bedroom in the cutest blue thobe and your heart swoons.

“My handsome man,” you press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Think so?” He gives you a little spin. 

"You clean up nicely," you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist,"Only for you, my love," he replies, planting a kiss on your lips.

You hum, “think you can get the thermos in the car?’

“Of course baby, “

As Jude heads out to the car with the thermos, you take a moment to admire him from behind. The way his thobe drapes over his frame, the confident stride in his step—it all makes your heart swell with pride. How lucky are you?

With a soft sigh, you clean up the last few things around your house. Washing the dishes, tucking plates inside the dishwasher, cleaning up the aftermath of your tea making, fluffing out your table cover, and sliding your house shoes snug against the wall. 

You get ready yourself. Not too much time as your dress slides off of its perch on your hanger. You do a quick once over in the mirror of your bathroom. Your makeup is good to go, your outfit is perfect. Things worked out after all. 

Your clock now reads 7:22. Relatively on schedule. You told your family you should get there around 8:30. 

You grab your purse, Judes sunglasses, the tupperware of cookies and head outside, locking the door behind you. The sun is beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the neighborhood. Dew still clings to the blades of grass that span your front yard.

 Jude ducks into his designated seat, your passenger princess, holding his hands open for the tupperware as you slide it into his lap. His glasses go on top of his head, seat belt clicking softly as you make your way to the drivers side. 

Jude is giddy as you make your way to your famed family eid event. He used to be nervous out of his mind, unsure of where to fit in. half the time you found him standing off to the side. Until your cousins forcefully made him join monopoly (its eid tradition okay). 

And even since then he's been more or less of a monopoly fiend, getting way too fired up than what's probably acceptable for a monopoly game but who cares. If he's having fun that's all you could really ask for.  

As you drive to your destination, Jude hums along to the radio, occasionally reaching over to squeeze your hand or steal a quick kiss at a red light. 

“You're so clingy,” you huff. Rolling your eyes playfully but leaning into each kiss nonetheless. 

“Yeah yeah and you love it.” he shrugs. 

You can't argue with that. 

“Think you'll win this year?” He knows what you mean. Monopoly of course.

“Of course I will. Tell your cousin I don't care how many times he moves his pieces when I'm not looking I will win.” he rubs his hands together. 

“You do that. I'm gonna play chess.” you nod. 

“You're really missing out you know.”

“I'm really not, those fiends of property will not be coming near me.”

“Baby.” he laughs.

“Hm?”

"You're gonna have to fix your lipstick kinda smudged it.” he giggles.

You quickly look into your rearview mirror, “you did a number on me.”

He only laughs harder. Ah the sweet sound of Eid fun. You love Eid.

When you finally arrive at your destination (and fix your lipstick) , your cousin's house is alive with the sounds of laughter and greetings. She got to host this year. You think next year will be yours and Judes. You have some remodeling to finish this year. 

You and Jude are greeted warmly by friends and family, exchanging hugs and well wishes. You snort at your younger family members who wait for their Eid money. This year it's Jude who gives it out. Taking his wallet out and kneeing to eye level with the kids as they get their gift for the day. 

You find your cousin, knee deep in dishes in the kitchen already.

“There you are,” she beams, kissing your cheeks and wiping her hands dry. She pulls out a kitchen chair and hands it to you. You take a seat gladly. 

“You look busy.” you raise a brow. 

“You think?” she huffs. 

You raise your hands up, “hey it's not even tea time yet what's with the dishes.”

“Cookies I didn't finish this morning.” she groans, heading back to the sink.

You get up out of her seat and push her out of the way, “go greet your guest you idiot i got it here.”

She sighs, heading off to greet the growing crowd of people that fill her home. 

You finish in a few minutes, organizing what you can before finding Jude surrounded by kids who throw various sports balls for him to juggle. He's doing pretty good, laughing as each ball gets increasingly more outrageous. Golf balls? Where did they get golf balls? 

You take a few videos before he calls it quits and joins you to do your round of greeting the new arrivals.

Throughout the day, you and Jude enjoy the festivities, indulging in delicious food, sharing stories, and making cherished memories. He ends up winning monopoly, go figure. Chess ends in a stalemate and you have a stare off with a family friend that sits opposite to you in the living room. Next time you both agree silently. 

Lunch has been served along with a large array of sweets with tea, (yours was a hit). Jude preens at the praise that comes your way, boasting of how amazing you always make it, that your hands are just naturally sweet. 

You swat his chest, scurrying away while he continues to any and everyone that will listen to him. 

“That man is obsessed with you,” your cousin appears again, tea in hand. 

“Isn't he?” you snort. 

“I hope you guys host next year.” she gives you a nudge with her shoulder.

“Me too. You did great this year.” 

“Don't leave the cookies last minute like me though,” she grumbles before melting back into the crowd.

As the day draws to a close and you head home, hand in hand with Jude, you can't help but smile at the thought of many more Eids to come, spent with the love of your life.

You're thinking of getting him a pink thobe for next Eid, good idea no?