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tteokdoroki · 2 months

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HIGH HEELS - ryomen sukuna.

౨ৎ — about. “sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much.” as rough and rugged as he may seem, ryomen sukuna lives to see his girl happy. he loves to see her smile. he loves to know she feels as good as she looks…but when you end up looking a little too good in a certain pair of heels, he can’t be blamed for making you late for a dreaded dinner... ( 6.2K )

౨ৎ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, pwp — video banner. modern!au, rich girl!au, forbidden romance, reader has sisters, degradation, praise, pain play, fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism, slight!daddy kink, hold the moan, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), masturbation (m!receiving), cum play, creampies, modern bf!sukuna, rich girl fem!reader.

౨ৎ — things to note. haii everyone ! it’s been a while since i posted a longer fic so im excited. this was supposed to be a thirst lol. i’m just testing the waters with my version of modern bf!sukuna ! many thanks to @yennified for the ask that inspired it all. i’d like to thank everyone for their patience ‘n i hope you enjoy mwah mwah <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

“we’re going to be late, hot stuff.”

“no we’re not, ryo. give me five minutes! i just need to —“

if there’s one thing ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori had learned from dating you, is that time management was never and never will be your strong suit.

if the phrase fashionably late could be embodied as a person, sukuna believes that it would definitely take the shape of you. you and your beautiful brown eyes that plead with him to give you a moment not even five minutes before you leave the house for dinner reservations. you and your sinful curves only accentuated the silk slip dresses you spend so long steaming before sukuna takes you out for the night. you and your perfect lips that have to be painted with the right gloss or lipstick to match your nails, purse and heels.

all of you, and your beauty, make up the meat and bones of the phrase ‘fashionably late.’

just like right now, where you sit reapplying your hot chocolate lip gloss, perched on the edge of the luxurious king sized bed you’d demanded be in your hotel room. a room booked by your father for a family-oriented get-away. sukuna hadn’t wanted to come, as a man from humble beginnings, using your daddy’s money wasn’t something that he favoured — but the man liked to see his girl happy. sukuna lives to make you happy, even if he won’t admit it.

“do ya really need five minutes to fix your lip gloss?” the pink haired man chides, sweeping a hand through his rosette locks in the mirror as he re-enters your bedroom. “i’ve seen you do it in less, gorgeous,” blood red eyes are quick to place you in the centre of the room — they never stray from you for too long, sukuna will always find you in a room no matter how busy or bare it is. your presence fills him with love and brings him comfort, even if he refuses to accept that as his truth.

there’s a coldness to the look you give him over your compact mirror while you rub the swell of your lips together, spreading the pigment across them easily. it’s a warning not to rush you, a warning to your boyfriend who knows better. “i said, i need my five minutes.”

ryomen drops the topic with a shrug, fixing his silky tie at the collar of his dress shirt — the one you’d so carefully picked because it matches the deep tone of his eyes and the colour of your slip dress. a mark of possession on your part. once he’s done, he takes to packing your designer clutch with all of your essentials from the dresser — blotting powder, your purse, any silver jewellery you’ll want to put on in the car. he slips on a couple of expensive rings to match with you too.

sukuna is more prepared for this dinner with your insufferable relatives than you are. he knows that tonight will be about your little sister and the rich lord she’s bagged as her boyfriend along with how soon they’ll be getting married. or it’ll focus on your older sister and her marriage that she’s trying so hard to keep together, despite it clearly falling apart. both of your siblings seem to think that they’re above you and your brooding, misunderstood boyfriend.

but you don’t believe that.

and you like to rub your love for one another in their bitter faces.

“pretty girl,” sukuna purrs, his chest rumbling with affection once he takes note of your heels discarded to the side. their silver sparkles glint under the warm embrace of the lighting up above. sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. they’re expensive too — he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much. “if you don’t hurry up, we won’t be able to brag to your bitchy sisters about how in love we are.”

by no means is sukuna a man of weak resolve. his will is as strong as his exterior — coated in the scars of his rough past like the thick black tattoos that ink his arms. he remains strong in every scenario except for ones that concern you, one look from you and you’ve got that mountain of a man crumbling like an avalanche and falling to his knees. you cast your boyfriend an amused gaze, smacking your lips as you watch him sink to his knees before your very eyes.

once again, your man takes the hint — thick fingers reaching for your glittery red bottom heels on the floor before he brings them up to the soles of your feet without a word. “you know how much i love the sound of that, ryo,” comes your dark hum, the colour of your eyes dimming with a desire ryomen sukuna knows all too well. “but i don’t see an issue with looking good while i do it.”

“you’re right,” sukuna quips in a husky tone, taking one foot and slipping one of your expensive shoes onto it. “who cares if we’re late to meet your sisters. as long as you feel as good as you look — i couldn’t give a fuck.” his thick fingers that know the twitches and ticks of your body oh-so-well reach for the straps of your heels and slowly begin weaving them around your ankle, upwards.

his blood red eyes remain hooked on your exposed thighs and supple skin, littered with a beautiful array of marks and scars from over your years of existence. some from before you even knew of ryomen, others from during your time together. “do you think i look good, baby?” you ask him innocently, leaning back on the bed with the palms of your hands lost in the whipped peaks of expensive cotton sheets — most exclusively found in this five star hotel.

sukuna grins in that slow and sexy way which makes your stomach lurch with lust, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. “fuckin’ gorgeous, they’ll be shakin with rage.” he says, praise melting on the tip of his tongue. his words, in a symphony syllables, are accompanied by an undercover tune of desire — sukuna is a hungry man with little patience and a big appetite. once he’s settled on something, he’s damn sure to get it.

tonight; his prey is you.

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink hair bends at the neck to press a chaste kiss to your knee cap, smoothing the rough surface of his palms and workman’s hands over your doughy thighs — massaging you, easing any knots and tension beneath the top layer of your warm skin. his lips, only slightly chapped, curl upwards with a knowing smile when you let out a pleased chirp. sukuna’s hands work wonders on your body — causing your mind to drift away from the family dinner that awaits you.

tonight; you could very well fall victim to the claws and fangs ryomen sukuna possesses.

kisses quickly become open mouthed and wet, hot and slippery over your flesh — and soon, sukuna adds teeth to the mix once he reaches your inner thighs, littering the area with deep shades of purple and midnight blue. he had no intentions of ravaging you like this, at least not so soon, but with a woman this irritable and fiery and troublesome on his arm how could he not? they say that you attract what you put out and the mirthy look in your eye, hidden between beautiful brown flecks of innocence, tells sukuna that you’re exactly what his guarded soul has been looking for all of his life.

his pulse quickens beneath the calcium cage of his chest — heart beat rising as you allow his curious lips and pink fluffy hair begin to disappear under the silky fabric of your figure-hugging dress. sukuna can practically taste you, the air underneath your skirt is dewy and warm and your flavour (that he knows oh so well) lingers within its particles.

god, he wants you so bad. he doesn’t even care how this may look.

a man like him on his knees, ready to worship you as if you spout riches and bleed liquid gold.

except you do, you’re worth more than sukuna could ever hope to be. the weight of your net-worth unfairly tips the scales and he doesn’t even care. all because he loves you.

“why’re we even goin’ to this stupid dinner in the first place?” your rough and ragged boyfriend ponders out loud, with his words slipping over the edge of his sneaky snake's tongue. said tongue, if ryomen inches forward enough, could drag over your budding clit — clearly outlined through the barely-there crotch of your lace panties. “spend the night with me, doll. don’t gotta go a place…” a thick finger pulls the string of fabric away from your sticky slit, toying with the material until your premature arousal glazes his fingertip.

but before the man can reward himself with the goods between your perfect thighs — the sharp point of your heel digs into ryomen’s firm right pec. your shoes are clean so they won’t leave a mark, but he feels like you’ve left one on his heart, even as the bottom of your shoe pushes him back and away from your warmth.

“oh ryo, you must be hungry for the wrong thing,” you laugh breathlessly with your head tipping backwards, the sound shooting straight down to the hardness beneath sukuna’s black slacks. you push at him further until he rests back on his haunches — expression crazed and like a starved animal. “you forgot the other shoe, love.”

it turns out, you’re just as skilled a huntress as sukuna is. a vixen who stalks her prey and makes them beg for all her mercy. “how careless of me…” the man drawls, finding himself drawn to you like a moth to a candle’s flame. he craves your attention, he basks in it when you give it to him in the way that you do now. there’s not a moment where you’re not looking at him, admiring the shape and form of your man as if he’s the rarest piece of art in the world or a treasure more expensive than any diamond.

within the depth of those enticing brown eyes lay the truest form of love — even when you’re seconds away from devouring each other, your love for ryomen outgrows any doubt planted in your heart by your bitter family.

“y’must be so disappointed in me…” he goes on, lifting your second ankle in one hand and adjusting your foot into the perfect position to slip your other heel on. “how can i make it up to ya, gorgeous?” sukuna’s voice is gravelly, laced with intonations of neediness as he laces you up and finishes the job with a hand clasped over your knee. “i’ll do anythin’, anythin’ you want.”

graciously, you remove your red bottom from his shoulder and part your knees like the Red Sea — giving the older itadori the perfect view of the small string of fabric nestled between your glistening folds. even with the way you play coy, you’re always ready for him — as if it’s coded into your DNA to yearn for his touch.

the upper row of your teeth sink into your shiny bottom lip as you look down at your man with unadulterated hunger. “anything, ryo?”

sukuna’s chest rumbles (like a storm) with pride, his watchful gaze noting how you twitch and writhe for more. he leans forward and lets his black painted nails sink into the surface of your thighs — dragging you towards his awaiting mouth. “anythin’ for you gorgeous.” he repeats, voice raspy. in one swift movement, your red-bottom heels are swung over wide shoulders with thick muscles, keeping you nice and spread for him.

from over your barely-there-panties, a finger glides through your glistening pussy lips and presses into your budding clit just to get a reaction out of you. a squeak that makes sukuna’s hips buck into the floor and a full body shiver that has your heels knocking behind the man’s head. arousal pearls on his fingertip through the material, which he leisurely rubs into the rest of your heated and throbbing sex, right down to your quivering hole.

two fingers with polished black nails slip past your underwear’s waistband and dip inside of you with practised ease, instantly curling to find that special spot that drives you up the wall. sukuna knows you well, he’s spent years getting to that point. he’s committed every little detail there is to know about you to memory — the your lashes flutter when you like how he touches you, the way your throat bobs just before you mewl out his name. he knows exactly what you like and how to make you feel good. that fact drives sukuna into a frenzy.

his fingers start to work you faster, a lewd suctioning sound echoing throughout the luxurious room the deeper they plunge into you. sukuna’s thumb deliciously rolls over your swollen clit to add to your mounting pleasure, writing the signature of his claim on one of the most sacred parts of your body — where no other person can have you.

“ryomen!” you squeal in surprise, your shaky thighs threatening to close around your boyfriend’s skilled hands. your hole clenches around his thick digits feverishly while drooling directly into the seat of his rough palm.

a resounding chuckle echoes between your legs, vibrating against your syrupy sex as his pink head of hair disappears beneath the hem of your silken skirt. “that good, huh?” comes his lazy reply to your call of his name, using his fingers to fuck your arousal back into you. “what’s the matter, pretty girl?”

condescension twists with your boyfriend’s baritone voice, sending sparks of delight through your body like a thunder strike from zeus himself. when it comes to sex and pleasing you — sukuna is a god amongst mankind. the best you’ve ever had:

“don’t tease,” you growl out impatiently through gritted teeth, though your words melt into a whiny moan when sukuna easily bares down on your g-spot because he knows your squishy insides like the backs of his very hands. he finds it adorable when your face scrunches at the sensation of his cold, silver ring brushing up against your molten, sticky cunt and hums in content when you squirt a little bit for him in response. “we…we h-have plans for tonight!”

“‘m sorry princess, didn’t know we were in a rush.” ryomen says smugly, leaning into the sinful scent of your sex as if he’s been bewitched. not even the sound of your silver gladiator heels knocking against one another behind his head can pull the man out of this reverie. despite your warning, your boyfriend figures that there’s still time to have his way with you, you don’t really care about being on time to meet your family and you hardly have the brain capacity to think about them right now.

not when you fall under the vicious waves of ecstasy and give in to your depraved lover. ryomen quickly has you drowning in pleasure as he finally takes the plunge and replaces his thumb on your clit with his lips wrapped around it. he sucks on the little nub from over your panties, tongue glazing the fabricated barrier with his saliva as he commits the taste of you to memory once again.

your natural musk has sukuna drunk and high within seconds. you’ve got him returning to old habits and addictions he doesn’t have the strength to fight off. you’re bad for him and he knows it, but he can’t help but to make out with your clothed mound like it’s his life’s mission, mapping out the shape of your cunt through the stringy, soiled material. you ought to be embarrassed with the way you throb against sukuna’s eager lips as he buries his face further into your pussy. he inhales sharply, nastily, with his nose nudging against the sensitive treasure in circles — coaxing you open like a flower in the spring bloom.

ecstasy decides to bloom within you too, evergreen roots taking residence deep within your chest and curling around your beating heart. your pulse quickens in anticipation, an intoxicating veil of covetous yearning shrouding your brain in darkness as the tip of sukuna’s tongue now begins to circle your tight little entrance. even with the fabric in the way, you greedily attempt to clench down on his predatory pink appendage and keep him locked inside your cunt — squirting small streams of your juices in the process.

if your siblings could see you right now, how dirtily your man begins to ravage you just minutes before your family dinner while dripping on his tongue and the expensive bed daddy paid for, they’d be horrified. the sentiment strikes a pang of arousal in you, spreading to your boyfriend like a wildfire.

and as ryomen hooks a finger around the soiled gusset of your panties to pull them down, you hardly find it within yourself to care about what your snotty sisters might think — not when you’re about to receive the best head and best orgasm of your life.

“how d’ya wan’it?” instead of making a move to eat you out properly, ryomen takes two fingers and spreads your folds and exposes them to the blazing heat of his breath. exhaling through his nose next, he watches with blood red eyes as you twitch beneath his hold, dribbling liquid gold more than his mouth drools. “you’re so fuckin’ wet…all this from puttin’ on those pretty shoes?” your thigh shifts in response, heels clicking and back arches from luxury sheets crinkling under your back.

huffing impatiently, you send a threatening look down at your boyfriend despite how vulnerable you are to his torture teeth that could tear you apart in an instant. “ryo…your mouth,” you whinge, voice slipping into an almost babyish tone. despite your hard stare, your eyes are wet and wide like a prey animal watching its life go by right before it’s hunted or a deer in headlights, for that matter. “you promised you wouldn’t t-tease!”

“yeah, yeah, i know. ‘m sorry,” sukuna hums confidently, except he’s not really apologetic in the slightest — hardly doing his best to tame the uncomfortable yearning building up at your core. you’re a mess for him and he loves it, he’s entertained by the thought of you needing him so bad that it might kill you. he takes pride in knowing it’s not just him who feels this way. “thank you for tellin’ me, by the way. gonna use my mouth to fuck this pretty pussy til’ she’s creamin’ all for me,” he growls to you in a sultry tone, his aphrodisiac-like words a breath’s width away from your sloppy mound — its timbre sound sending tremors of electricity through your swollen, unattended clit that convulses from the lack of attention.

nothing inflates ryomen sukuna’s ego more than the feeling of your sex throbbing against his face — juices glossing the plump swell of his lips as he wraps them around your puffy pleasure nub. his chest bristles as you open up for him like a flower in spring, the scent of your arousal acting like a perfume to him — the bee with the stinger of pleasure. he works his savage mouth along the length of your slit, as though he lacks the manners of a decently raised man, tongue prodding at your entrance just to be mean. after a while, sukuna stops sucking and making out with your dirty, creamy cunt to nip at your titillating folds, taking one between rows of sharpened pearly whites and gently pulling it away from you.

at the abrupt feeling — you cry out hoarsely in a mix of bliss and surprise, taking a peek at the pink haired man between your spiked thighs with swimming vision. sukuna’s face is soaked, his angled jaw and cheeks and chin glazed in a layer of your slick as if he’s bitten into the ripest piece of fruit in adam and eve’s garden. the trail runs armously down and over his adam’s apple, coaxing your lover into eating you out properly this time.

finally, finally putting his filthy mouth to good use.

“fuck, i love the way y’drool for me down here. got so much to give, don’cha gorgeous?” sukuna mewls into you whilst kitten licking your slit, drinking you in as though you’re a glass of water in an oasis of lust and sex. he chuckles happily at your dreamy sigh and circling hips that grind down on his face, tapping three fingers against your sticky pleasure bud lovingly. annoyingly ( but not without appreciation from you), sukuna takes it a step further by sloppily kissing you there.

even with the time crunch, your pleasure takes priority. eating you out is like a reward for your man, it’s as though he was out on this earth by the gods purely to make you see stars. you feel lucky that he chose you out of all he could where he feels blessed to be the man you let touch you like this.

“mmph, ryo… always g’na be wet f’you. for my man. only you get me this fucked up,” you drawl with a silky voice, making a show of tweaking your own nipples from over your dress for your boyfriend. with the slipperiness of a snake, your hands slide down from between the valley of your heaving breasts, over your clothed tummy ( that twists with knots of ecstasy ) and into the slicked pink locks that tickle your inner thighs. messing up his perfect look, you grip sukuna’s roots and tug on them forcefully — coaxing him further into the debauched realm concealed by the skirts of your dress.

“princess…” ryomen lets out a pathetic, muffled groan — increasing the pace of the tip of his tongue as it lewdly flicks at your sex. “have you always had such a dirty mouth? what would yer daddy think?”

your head tips back at the new, gratifying sensation — ecstasy mounting in your lower tummy like bricks of a steady wall. “for as long as i’ve been yours,” comes your crazed and melodious laughter, only interrupted by pockets of squelching noises emitted from your squelching cunt. “oh baby…i don’t give a fuck about what my ‘daddy’ thinks. only you. let him stay mad — f-fuck! kuna!”

fuelled by the idea of pissing off your stuck up family, tattooed hands move to grip where your legs bend at the knee — pushing them back until your skirt rides up over your fleshy ass and your knees hit your shoulders and the soles of your shoes are able to lay flat against sukuna’s rippling back muscles. he hisses at the slight sting he feels from the pointed heel digging into his skin through his shirt, but it only fucks him up more. your pleasure is his pain, ryomen doesn’t give a fuck about anything else except for how good his girl feels.

somewhere amongst the sweat soaked sheets your phone lets out a shrill cry — signifying a call from someone in your spoiled family. without sukuna’s command, you scramble through the sea of stiff fabric peaks and reach for the device, hitting the answer button before checking the contact.

“h-hello?” you say in a poor attempt to speak clearly, stifling a deep moan. “speak of the devil and the devil shall appear…” comes your shallow whisper as you address your boyfriend. your chest grows sticky with perspiration beneath the bust of your dress — breathing uneven and heavy because of the way ryomen’s tongue wriggles past your tight little hole, squirming about against your lush walls to hit that special spot that has you screaming and seeing stars while on the phone to one of your relatives.

“excuse me, young lady?” it’s your father, much to sukuna’s dismay, his voice is irritatingly recognisable over the crackling of the line. of course he would find some way to unknowingly interrupt yourself and your loving, doting, disapproved boyfriend. “you were supposed to meet your sisters and i for dinner nearly forty minutes ago. where are you?”

sukuna’s agitation shows with each wet kiss he aggressively places between your swollen folds, nasty and miscalculated whilst designed to leave you a shaky mess.“o-oh! hi daddy,” you emphasise the word, voice rising an octave until its light an airy. your swimming, doe eyes lock with crimson ones that bore into the depths of your soul from below — taunting and testing the pink haired man’s patience. “‘m getting ready. don’t you want me to look pretty?”

the silky lilt to the tail end of your words causes sukuna to growl against your pulsating, temperate mound while his fingers yank you down onto his handsome face by your meaty thighs. eagerly, your hips canter down to match the stride of his tongue stroking your pretty pussy as though you’re riding his aching cock to your heart’s content. his tongue fills you up almost as good, warmly slipping and sliding over pleasure spots only he can reach.

he kitten licks and sucks and bites at your raw sex like a wild animal, loudly moaning into you with every roll of your cunt over his face. you taste like heaven, the flavour almost angelic on his tongue. sukuna feels like a sinner with a greedy craving for more and if you cared just a little bit, you might have been concerned about your father catching the lascivious sounds from between your thighs over the phone.

“i’m past the point of caring about how you present yourself at dinner,” your father says your name stern and low — talking to you as if you’re a child and not the woman you’d grown into. “your sisters are ravenous, they flew all the way into the country for this. don’t you think that they deserve an ounce of your time?”

losing yourself to the danger of it all, you chuck your phone to the side after putting it on loud speaker. your lover targets your prominent, adorable clit again, the tip of his tongue rolling it in large circles until you’re close to tearing the sheets from the bed. you try your best to contain the scream building up in your throat, but sukuna has never made it easy for you to keep quiet.

“mph…fuck!”

“young lady! watch your mouth!” your father scolds you, still blissfully unaware of the fact that you’re getting tongue fucked by the man he hates all the way up to cloud nine. “i bet that good for nothing scoundrel has put you up to this. i keep telling you, no daughter of mine should be with a man like that. where is he? he’s the one making you late.”

“actually, dad, sukuna’s been a good boy. sitting all handsome in those suits you like. i’m the one making…oohhh…m-making us late!” cruel carmine eyes flutter at your generous praise, lovesick as a sunburn like blush spreads over the bridge of sukuna’s nose from how desperate he is for you. if you tried your hardest to listen in over the wet sounds of your cunt being sucked on for dear life, along with the shaky delectable laments your lover lets out, you might be able to hear the sound of a zipper going down or the slickness of sukuna’s hand around his meaty shaft as he jerks himself off. no longer able to fight off his desire for you.

your stomach flips at the sight and the pleasure mounts with your impending high, dainty fingers beginning to tug and twist at sukuna’s blushing pink hair. his pain is your pleasure.

“you’ve lost your mind, i didn’t raise you to be like this.”

“you hardly…hardly raised me at all,” the words feel tacky in your mouth, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton that sucks up your saliva. it doesn’t help that your voice begins to waver too, reaching whistle tone notes.

ryomen sukuna doesn’t know what’s hotter, the fact that you’re so easily able to sass your rich, douchey father or the fact that you’re letting him give you head while on the phone. “shit,” he curses as low as possible, using one had to smooth the pad of his thumb over the slit in his cockhead — smearing the precum that beads there over the sensitive flesh. his kiss swollen lips part from your sweet sex for only a moment to taunt you. he remains connected to you by a single rope of clear elixir that leaks from your precious little hole. “god, gorgeous. you’re fuckin’ drenched…all from talkin’ back to daddy, huh?”

a lewd and sacchariferous mewl rumbles from deep in your chest as it rapidly rises and falls. it’s all too much for you to keep up with, you’re way too dizzy and it’s only made worse when sukuna bobs his head between your quivering legs so that his fat tongue drags through the entirety of your ravaged pussy lips.

“holyfuckingshit!” you shoot the man a glare once you remember where you are and who you’re on the phone to.

ryomen offers up a cocky smirk as his excuse before delving beneath your silken skirts once more, though it does nothing to mask how turned on he is — squeezing the base of his drippy shaft to stop himself from cumming too soon to the sight of you.

you try not to forget the presence of your father again, it would be hard to, since he’s insistent on betraying you down the phone. “speak back to me again and i’m cutting you off. starting with cancelling the card you and your mangy boyfriend live off of.”

“do it, i dare you.” you somehow manage to snap back, jolting at the sensation of sukuna’s razor sharp teeth grazing your clit. he hisses deliciously against your sex as your heels cut pretty crescent moons into his back. “i-i wonder what mom would have to say about it if you…if you did!”

silence echoes down the line, broken by small pockets of your boyfriend slurping on your folds like a man starved. slurps that you’re just so blessed to be able to hear. you should feel ashamed instead of hungry, doing nothing to tame the greedy beast inside you that craves more and more of sukuna’s attention on you. you must have lost your mind, for letting him eat you out so brazenly while you converse with your father on the phone. it’s so depraved, so dirty and yet you wouldn’t give this… give sukuna up for the world.

you love him more than anything. love how he treats you like you’re the strongest person he knows whilst handling you as though you’re made of glass. you love how he gets off to you, dribbling thick white from the tip of his cock because you make him a mess enough to need to jerk off. you love how he pleasures you, his baritone laments and simpers muffled against your cunt sending fireworks up your spine and setting them off at your tailbone where your mounting pleasure lies.

you love ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori, and no amount of scolding from your father will ever change that.

“just…just be here within the hour. please.” your father requests quietly.

“see you soon, daddy,” you hang up the phone faster than a lightning strike, all of your composure flying out of the window with the last dial tone. “ryo, fuck! i’m close… gonna cum. please, hurry!”

“god you’re such a fuckin’ menace, hah, pretty girl?” your pink haired lover quips airily, his jaw tight from flicking his tongue against your sex in sync with his fist flicking around his throbbing dick, slinging precum about the place. he’s amused and love sick all at once, a feeling that was once foreign to ryomen before he met you. “gotcha so turned on by talking back to your dad, yeah? all while i ate this pretty fuckin’ pussy out… so nasty,” only sukuna could make you feel this loved while degrading you, the only man who’s ever been able to do so. none of them could come close to knowing your body like he does, the way you twitch when you’re close and start to pout like a spoilt brat when you’re frustrated from waiting for your orgasm.

sukuna takes the edge off by lifting a tattooed arm and slapping his hand down on the entirety of your cut — letting out a haughty moan at the sight of glistening droplets of arousal flying about the place while your heels drag down his back with delightful pain. you cry out, but your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you in seconds — soothing your poor pussy. “‘m so lucky to have you though, my nasty fuckin’ princess,” he mewls into you, using his tongue to bully your g-spot over and over and over while he fists his precum glazed cock into oblivion. “gonna make you cum, gorgeous girl. let you make a mess in my mouth, you want that?”

“m-more than anything, ryo!” you wail, fighting back tears as you spew a fresh wave of your sweet nectar from your pathetic hole. you do have a dinner to get to after all, you should only be crying from one place. your cunt. the sound of said squelching cunt and your dulcet whines make sukuna’s balls twitch with a load he would only dedicate to you. “i love you, love you s’much…love you,”

the delirium starts to catch up with you, becoming too much to bare as you babble nonsense into the sex tainted air. you can’t hold back, some of your release already beginning to stream out of you. “‘m gonna cum, ryo…cum with me, please!” you squeal in warning, mere seconds before your body succumbs to sukuna’s eager tongue and the wrath of your orgasm.

“love you too, s’much,” your glittery heels knock behind his sweaty mass of pink hair, cutting into his back as he walks you through it all. “f-fuck baby, that’s it,” he goads as you gush into his mouth like a tidal wave. you have so much to give, release trickling into his mouth, painting his cheeks and sliding down his adam’s apple in a viscous current. sukuna is swept away by the arousal in the air, drinking you in as he pumps his cock harshly and in tune with the way you weakly hump at his face through the aftershocks.

pulling his sticky mouth away from your equally sticky sex, sukuna replaces his tongue with three of his fingers to your clit — coaxing you through the rest of your high as he draws random shapes on the puffy nub. “keep that orgasm goin’ for me, pretty princess, give it to me…give it t’me while i fill you up,” he rambles brainlessly, abruptly standing up as he fists his cock pulled out from the zipper of his dress pants — barely fighting back his own orgasm. “spread those fuckin’ legs, wanna cum inside.”

“ryo!”

“ahh, fuckin’…fuuuck!” in one swift move, your boyfriend slips his sensitive and bulbous cockhead past your quivering, orgasming entrance — shallowly thrusting into your tight heat as you spasm around him, before he’s thrown off the edge into his own high. “c-cummin’…” hot sticky ropes of white seed flood your womb, which sukuna keeps plugged into you as he folds you over — chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your heels clink at the dip in his waist behind his back. you’re still cumming as languid thrusts smear your boyfriend’s cum against your rippling walls, but you’re content, breathing beginning to even out as you both come down from cloud nine.

still releasing in small spurts, ryomen slowly pulls out of you with soft kisses pressed to the side of your face. “sorry, didn’t wanna fuck up my pants before dinner,” he chuckles over the warm static spreading over your happy little brain.

you offer him your own dopey laughter, remaining sprawled out underneath your hunk of a man. “so you decide to just jizz inside of me? you’re a class act ryo. what about my dress?”

“first of all, you don’t like it when shit goes to waste ‘n second off all, i made damn sure that it stuck. your dress is fine, brat.” a chaste kiss is pressed to your nose as sukuna helps you sit up, double checking for any mess he might have left between your shaky legs. “let me clean you up, don’t want your dad findin’ out what we were really up to all this time.”

“pretty sure he already knows,” you shrug, rolling your ankles as you lean down to fix a strap on your heel. “you’re a messy eater, ryo.”

but before you can fix your shoe back into place, ryomen sukuna is already on it — adjusting the strap to sit comfortably on your leg before he stands again and retreats to the bathroom for a warm cloth to clean you up with.

you watch with a smirk as he goes, admiring all of the little red marks on his shoulder blades you’ve left on him with your shoes. “then i guess i’ll have to use some fuckin’ table manners at dinner,” he remarks childishly. “but i can’t help how delicious you look in those heels, gorgeous.”

and it’s true, you’re the only meal sukuna could ever want — especially when you leave your claim on him with high heels like that.

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mrpenguinpants · 1 year

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Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@genshins1mpact @creatorofstars @xoneaboveallx @timmyitsmeeee @raingoesboomboom @duhsies @thegayrubberducky @openingssequence @onowie

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theemporium · 2 months

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[3.6k] your life comes crumbling down when photos are leaked of your boyfriend making out with another girl. it doesn't help that your other boyfriend seems to be handling it worse than you are by ignoring the world, including you. well, the everyone except his rival.

series masterlist

It felt like a nightmare.

A sick, twisted nightmare that you were waiting to wake up from any minute now. You could imagine it so clearly, shooting up in your bed with the sheets sticking to your sweaty skin and blood roaring in your ears before soft, comforting French words washed over you. You imagined a pair of arms wrapping around you, holding you tight and a pair of lips pressed against the top of your head until you found the courage to speak.

Every cell in your body craved for that to be your reality, but it wasn’t.

Instead, you were sitting on your bed in the comfort of your father’s home with the distant sound of music playing from the kitchen and the curtains pulled back to let the sunshine come through and—well, a series of photos on your screen that made you feel like you were about to vomit, if you even had anything in your stomach from last night’s dinner to bring up.

It wasn’t often you visited your father’s home in Switzerland. But sometimes you craved the normalcy and seclusion of the farmhouse. You craved a few days to just relax, to pretend you were a normal girl with a normal father with a normal life. You liked to play pretend for a few days, and Sebastian always entertained the whole concept because he liked having you around.

That was what this trip was supposed to be.

With the boys over in the states for the Miami Grand Prix, you had decided against flying out with them. It had been a few months since you had seen your father and, with no great urge to fuck up your body clock with jet lag, you had decided to fly up to Switzerland instead before the boys inevitably returned for Imola.

It had been nice. It had been exactly what you needed. It had been the few days you needed to ground yourself, to remember life beyond the constant work and travel. It had been the perfect getaway. Even as a young girl, your life revolved around the paddock with your father racing every other weekend, it was easy to forget a life outside of it all.

But right now? Yeah, you really fucking wish the outside world didn’t exist at all.

Your relationship with your boys was complicated and intertwined and unconventional, but it was yours. You loved each other, you cared for each other, you would do anything for each other. Or at least, that was what you assumed. The day Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly entered your life, you thought everything made sense.

Even if it took a few years of beating around the bush and your own feelings to reach that conclusion.

You thought your relationship with your boys was one of the key things that made your life so perfect, that made you happy to be the one living it.

Until you woke up this morning, rolling over and reaching for your phone to find a flurry of notification banners filling up your screen. It was a mix of messages and mixed calls and mentions from almost every social media app you owned. It was a mess, undistinguishable and baffling to your barely-awake brain. You honestly just expected it to be another fluke, another stupid scandal blossoming out of nothing. It made you want to roll over and fall back asleep before your PR manager inevitably called you.

God, you would have preferred a stupid scandal to this.

Instead, you found countless photos and videos of Pierre. He was in a club, most likely celebrating ending up in the points after the race. He was in that white linen shirt you loved on him, the one he always left a little too unbuttoned because he knew it drove you and Charles crazy. But instead of his friends or even Charles by his side, it was some random girl.

His hands were all over her. She was pressed up against his front, starry eyed and grinning up at him. His lips were on her lips, her neck, any inch of skin he could kiss. She was laughing and dragging him out of the club. He was smiling and happily following her.

And you felt fucking sick.

Not even in your worst nightmares had you imagined something like this, something as horrific and despicable and public as this. Never had you thought Pierre—one of the men you loved—could be capable of this. You never thought he could do this to you, to Charles.

Charles.

Charles who was nowhere to be seen in the videos. Charles who had messaged about having an early night sleep before he flew out to Maranello for Imola prep. Charles who was either asleep, on a plane or sitting in his hotel room in a similar state to you.

Fuck, you wished you were with him right now.

But you couldn’t stop reading the comments, reading the countless articles and tweets and posts about the whole situation. You couldn’t bring yourself to ignore the comments from strangers on the internet saying it was about time, that they were glad he got away from you. The ones showing sympathy were even worse because it made this real, it made the whole fucking thing so real.

You hadn’t even heard the music from the kitchen stop or the footsteps approaching your bedroom. You hadn’t heard the knock or the door slowly creaking open. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen until you felt a warm arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“Shhh, honigbienchen, it’s okay. Let it out, I’ve got you,” Sebastian murmured, his voice soft and sweet and comforting and the exact thing you needed to break down the last of your crumbling walls.

You pressed yourself into your father’s side as you sobbed, as you mourned the loss of what you believed was a loving and trusting relationship. You let yourself melt into his embrace as he held you close, as he held you together.

You didn’t fight as he pulled your phone from your grasp, locking it and throwing it somewhere on the bed behind him. You didn’t fight as he pulled you closer, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck as you let the familiar smell of your father’s cologne—the same one he has used since you were a child—wash over you. You didn’t fight as he murmured comforting words in German because a part of you hoped he was right, wanted nothing more than your father to be right.

You just let yourself break because you knew your father would keep you together.

...

The apartment felt like a mockery of the life you once lived.

You remember the day the three of you signed the lease, it was one of the happiest days of your life. There were always concerns about moving too fast, about hitting a milestone as big as moving in together so early on in the relationship. But, in all honesty, you didn’t see the issues. Call it rose-tinted glasses or call it the truth, but it never felt too soon.

Not for you and your boys.

Because the relationship was still new when you moved in, just under a year old, but you had known these boys for years. Your life had been intertwined with racing from the day you were born because of your father, you had seen these boys grow up alongside you. You had been there to see them both enter Formula one. You had been there to see Charles as your father’s teammate.

You had been there for it all.

You had been friends long before you were a couple. You had grown close to Charles in the days your father wore the Ferrari emblem. You had found yourself attached to the boy, bonding with him in a way you never had in previous years. And where Charles was, Pierre was close behind. They were the package deal you thought you had lucked out on.

So, moving in together seemed like a baby step in the future the three of you had planned together, a simple necessity as you continued to grow and love and care for each other.

Now, it was a painful reminder that the place you called your home was tainted with the memories of a man you once loved. Maybe still loved. You hadn’t wanted to delve into those feelings too much yet.

It was empty.

You had expected as much, or maybe you didn’t. You weren’t sure anymore.

A small part of you assumed for this to be the moment you woke up from your nightmare. That you would wake up in your bed, slowly blinking your eyes open as you heard the boys laughing away in the kitchen at whatever they were attempting to cook before you woke.

Another part of you expected to find Charles here, looking like a mirror reflection of you as you finally fell into his arms, as you received the touch you had been craving from him and him only in the last forty-eight hours.

Another part of you expected to find Pierre standing in front of you, despite the reassurance you had received from a few friends at Alpine that the boy hadn’t left Miami. You thought maybe he would be here to beg for forgiveness or explain himself. You thought maybe he would at least have the decency to look half as worried as you were about Charles’ disappearance off the face of the Earth.

You didn’t know if you were disappointed or relieved that he wasn’t here.

With your messages and calls receiving no answer from Charles, you had packed your bags and hopped on the first flight out of Switzerland. Your father had his reservations of you leaving so soon, of you being alone. To be completely honest, you wished you could have stayed in his arms forever and ignore everything.

But you needed to see Charles.

You had to see him with your own two eyes because he was the only person in the world who understood what you were going through.

To the world, it was just you and Pierre. And you were all okay with that for right now, you were okay with keeping the details and complications of your relationship private until the moment was right.

But right now, you fucking despised it. Because the world was so focused on you and on Pierre and on the random girl from the club, but nobody was looking at Charles. Nobody cared about Charles. And despite your relationship being an open secret to the paddock, it seemed not even the people closest to him—his own fucking team—knew where he was.

And it fucking terrified you.

Monaco had been your last hope. Your apartment had been a fucking last resort. You were grasping at straws and you were losing your mind and there were a million different things running through your head but you just wanted Charles.

There was still a voice in the back of your head reassuring you that he would show up, that he would walk through that door and fall into your arms until you both felt something other than pain right now.

You wanted nothing more than for him to come home, to come to you.

But forty-eight hours of emotions were wracking through you and you didn’t even realise you were falling asleep on the living room couch until your body was too tired to even try sitting up.

...

…

“Where did you find him?”

“Well, hello to you too.”

You flashed the Dutchman a sheepish smile as a wave of embarrassment washed over you. Your brain had been on a one-track mentality since you received his message, the bleary-eyed sleepiness long gone the second he mentioned Charles. You hadn’t even bothered to drive over, far too jittery and worked up to get behind the wheel. You needed the cold air to calm you down.

“Sorry, hello,” you greeted as you stepped into his apartment, trying to push down the urge to just grab Max’s shoulders and shake him until he told you where Charles was. “I just—”

“I know, you’re worried,” he said, his voice softer than you expected. “C’mon, I left him on the couch because he looked comfortable and I didn’t want to disturb him.”

You silently followed the boy through the long entrance corridor, your hands clenched into fists at your side to stop yourself from picking at the skin around your nail beds until they were raw and bleeding.

You tried to prepare yourself for the sight you were going to see, to prepare for the worst just in case.

You hadn’t expected him to look so…peaceful.

He was sprawled on Max’s couch like the boy had said, his clothes rumpled and his hair messy but—at first glance, at least—he looked okay. But you could see the signs that he was no better than you were. His cheeks were red, like he had been crying a lot, and so was the tip of his nose, like he had been wiping it excessively. He looked worn down, and heavier than usual. Like there was a weight on his shoulders beyond the usual season stress.

He looked like he was half as put together as you.

“I found him outside a bar,” Max’s voice startled you out of your thoughts as he stepped into the space beside you at the bottom of the couch. “I was on a late night run—you know, jet lag and stuff—and he was there. He was…”

You frowned a little, turning to look at the Dutchman. “He was what?”

“He wasn’t okay,” Max whispered with his own frown. “He could barely string a sentence together, let alone stand up. I think he had been kicked out of the bar, I don’t know. I promised him I would call you if he came back with me. I…I couldn’t just leave him there, you know?”

You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. “Thank you, Max.”

“It’s no problem, really,” he assured you and the silence fell between you two once more. And Max watched as your attention shifted back to Charles. He waited a few moments, a mental debate playing in his head, back and forth like a tennis match before he spoke up again. “I’m sorry. About everything. It…uh, it really sucks.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “Thanks.”

Max took the hint and quickly shifted the conversation. “It doesn’t look like he is waking up anytime soon,” he said. “You can stay the night. The spare room is free. Or I can bring some blankets out here if you don’t want to leave him.”

You turned to him, a strained smile on your face. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s okay,” he assured you, and something in you felt relieved that you wouldn’t have to return home to that bed, the bed you shared with him. “It’s late anyways. You look like you need some rest.”

You chose to omit the fact that you hadn’t slept more than a few hours in the last few days, and even that was after crying yourself to exhaustion.

“Thank you, Max. Really.”

The Dutchman smiled. “Like I said, it’s no problem.”

...

…

When Charles woke up the next morning, his head was killing him.

There was a bright light on his face, his mouth felt desert dry and he could have sworn there was a heavy weight on his chest. Not the metaphorical kind he had been lugging around for the last few days, but something actually weighing down on his chest and making it a little hard to breathe.

He gave himself a moment, tried to ground himself and hype himself up to open his eyes when he knew the light would only be more irritating than it was now. He tried to prepare himself for the killer hangover he was going to have to nurse all day, along with the countless calls to his team to apologise for not showing up to any of the meetings.

To eventually reply to you too.

However, when Charles finally gained the courage to open his eyes, the last thing he expected was to see a cat staring down at him.

“What the—” He startled as he quickly sat up.

The cat let out a noise of surprise before meowing, glaring at him before it padded off. Charles watched it for a few moments before blinking, taking in the unfamiliar setting around him. He knew he wasn’t in his apartment, or his mother’s, or either of his brothers’.

He had no fucking idea where he was.

But before the overwhelming fear took over his body and made him throw up everything he drank the previous night, you wandered into the room with a mug in hand.

“You’re awake,” you breathed out, stopping mid-walk like you couldn’t quite believe he was there.

Charles opened his mouth to say something but you reacted faster. The mug was abandoned on the coffee table he had failed to notice and you were throwing yourself in his arms, clinging onto him like you hadn’t seen him in years.

It had felt like it had been years.

Charles let himself wind his arms around you, to pull you onto his lap and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck until the familiar scent of your shampoo completely engulfed him. He let himself enjoy the feeling of you in his arms after almost two weeks of not seeing you in person. He let himself enjoy the one person in this world that didn’t make him feel like questioning everything in his life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry—”

“Shhh, it’s fine,” you whispered back, sniffling back your own tears. “It’s fine. You’re here now, that’s what matters.”

“But—”

“I just need you, Charles, no matter how long you take,” you murmured, your words slightly muffled but his arms tightened around you in understanding.

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes, just soaking in the presence after so long apart. And, if he was being honest, he was in no rush to speak about everything. It had been playing on his mind like a broken record since he saw the videos, he didn’t want to give it any more brain space. He knew it was inevitable, but right now he just wanted to enjoy you.

“Where are we?” He asked eventually when the curiosity and the cat glaring at him became too much.

“Max’s house,” you murmured, feeling the boy tense beneath you. You pulled back, keeping yourself close as you flashed the boy a sheepish expression. “He found you last night and brought you here before something happened to you.”

“Oh.” Charles blinked. “That was kind of him.”

“Very,” you nodded in agreement. You watched him for a few moments as he stared around the living room before you continued talking. “My team messaged me.”

Charles swallowed. “Yeah?”

“They want to know what our plan is,” you whispered. You didn’t need to say more than that, Charles understood.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Val thinks it will backfire,” you murmured, looking down at your hands instead of his face. “If we are seen together too much.”

Charles tensed.

“The media might spin a story about me moving on from—” You paused, his name unable to pass your lips.

“Can we just…not talk about this right now?” Charles whispered, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I just…it’s too much.”

“Okay,” you whispered with a nod.

“We will handle it,” Charles assured you as he reached for your hand. Because he knew you, he knew the whole thing was eating you up and it didn’t help pushing the conversation away. But he needed to be in the right state for it—not half-drunk from the night before. “Together. I promise.”

You sniffled, squeezing his hand. “Together.”

“You two want pancakes for breakfast?”

Both of your heads snapped around to find Max by the door, a kind smile on his face. He paused when he took a look at the both of you, probably noticing the solemn faces and red eyes and instantly looking embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, did I just ruin a moment?”

You shook your head. “No—”

“We would love pancakes,” Charles finished for you, trying to focus on your hand in his rather than the fact he was sitting on the couch of the man he had been competing with for a majority of his life. “Coffee is on us. As a thank you.”

Max waved him off. “It’s fine—”

“We insist,” you said firmly.

Max glanced between you before nodding. “Okay,” he said. “But I’m only saying yes because you two seem very stubborn and I’m not awake enough to deal with that.”

And for the first time in over forty-eight hours, you had the oddest urge to laugh.

“Wanna order the coffee together?”

“Together.”

You weren’t sure what would happen next. You didn’t know what you were going to tell Val or the rest of your team. You didn’t know what Charles’ team would say. You didn’t know what the fuck you were going to do when you eventually saw Pierre again, when you had to sort out the fact you technically shared a flat with him.

But right now, your biggest issue was figuring out which coffee Max Verstappen liked and it was a kind distraction to your messy life.

Especially with the assurance that Charles was by your side.

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fangirl-dot-com · 4 months

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🪩Track 1 - The Beginning of an Era

welcome to reputations...want to continue?

December 1, 2023

williamsracing has posted

williamsracing freshman year loading...

we are thrilled to announce that theopourchaire21 will be joining alexalbon as our driver line-up for 2024!

liked by formula1fan, logansargeant, alexalbon, and 75,284 others

lolo2024 this is not what I needed today, tomorrow, or ever

log4n_sarg um, lets rewind and go back to the post where Logan was supposed to be signed for 2024

logansargeant I'm so happy for theopourchaire21, no one deserves it more than him!

f1_fanatic I know he was sobbing writing that L2-nation his PR team probably had tears when they told him formula1_today I feel so bad for him

user2 did they even tell Logan that they weren't signing him?? this seems so rushed and I thought Williams told Logan that he'd have another chance...

oscarpiastri so happy for you mate! can't wait to have you on the grid!

what-the_f-is-a-kmeter the ultimate betrayal right here

formula1_power well, my 2023 was just ruined

arrowmclaren has just posted

arrowmclaren we are happy to announce our diver line-up for the 2024 IndyCar season! With Pato O'Ward, Alexander Rossi, and David Malukas, we have a strong season ahead of us!

liked by racer.y/n, indyxf1, carsgozoom, indy5hundred, and 89,238 others

indyxf1 first Logan and now Y/n??!! What has this world gone to?!

arrowML uhhhh, this was not on the 2023 bingo card

o-wardo I mean, I like Rossi, but L/n was such a beast this season. doesn't make sense that they drop her after her rookie year

Dave-dives4arrows boooooo - we didn't ask for this

mclarenall-round exactly! Y/n was the perfect fit for the team! y/n.fan well, I mean...our girl was kind of outcasted by the others. maybe this is just a new beginning y/n_nation true, I'm thinking maybe NASCAR maybe? fan-f1 now here me out...Formula 1?

racer.y/n thank you for all the memories! welcome to the family alexanderrossi - you deserve it

indyfan2 I know she has tears in her eyes as she writes this logansarg3ant Y/n and Logan's pr teams will need therapy after December 1, 2023

Logan&y/n Y/n and Logan really are "the outcast rookies" club

f1 with Lamborghini_Racing has posted

f1 something new is coming for the 2024 season...

formula 1 is happy to announce the arrive of new constructor team: the Royal Automobili Lamborghini-Andretti Formula 1 Team. They will be headed by Team Principal Michael Andretti.

They will be backed by high-end sponsors such as Dior, Armani, Hermes, Fendi, and Panerai.

However, we are saddened by the leave of the HAAS Formula 1 team. We wish them well as they are planning to enter next year's IndyCar Championship.

liked by formoola1, lamb0, chrisncars, kart-ing, y/n-lover, and 90,298 others

formula1-fanatic and suddenly, 2023 has a come back after Williams's and ArrowMcLaren's posts

fan-f1 PLEASE SIGN LOGAN AND Y/N - THEY DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE PLEASE I'M BEGGING

fan-f1 ok - I'm done f1-f1-f1 now hold on, you might be onto something

America_in_f1 I'm sad that HAAS is leaving, but will we be able to still hear the Star Spangled Banner if Andretti wins?

user-fan-75 technically no since Lamborghini is the main constructor and they are an Italy based manufacturer what-the-f_is_a-kmeter BOOOOOOOO logansArgeant2 now, hear me out - we get Logan AND y/n and up the possibilities by two

indy-fan I came here for Y/n, now you all need to sign her RN

y/n-nation what even is F1? but I want my girl to be in it

f1_power welcome to the family!

haas_fan awwww I'm going to miss Kevin and Nico, will they be signed automatically?

haas-fan2 I don't think so. Andretti hasn't put out an official statement yet but I think he'd want to start fresh

y/nxlogan all fans of the "outcast rookies" rise, we've found our opening

To: y/n.l/npr.email.com CC: Logan.sargeantpr.email.com

To whom it may concern,

We would like to invite the two of you to come to Sant'Agata Bolognese, Italy for a few days of testing. I personally cannot confirm a seat for the 2024 season, but we've have our eyes on the two of you since early spring.

Please let us know by the end of the week if either of you are interested. We are in need of time if everything goes well. If it does, and the two of you would like to join the Royal Automobili Lamborghini-Andretti Formula 1 team, contracts could be signed as early as next week.

My sister Marissa will be in touch for a check-in if these emails weren't correct.

She says that you both need a Reputations Era, or whatever that means.

I personally look forward to hearing back from the two of you. Have a blessed day.

Team Principal Michael Andretti

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @aeh2 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy

#logan sargeant x reader #Logan Sargeant x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #formula 1 x you #logan sargeant #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant fanfiction #logan sargeant fluff #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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roosterforme · 2 months

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Covering the Classics Part 1 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob is happy for his friends, but feeling like the fifth wheel every weekend has gotten old. Anna's main goal is to fly under the radar as she starts work at San Diego State University with her shiny, new graduate degree. She is convinced that the only company she needs is her own, but a specific flyer in the faculty lounge catches her interest.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob hated it when Natasha was deployed without him. He always ended up feeling like the fifth wheel now that Bradley was married and Jake was dating Jessica. Well, both of those were actually understatements. Bradley was devoted to his wife, and Jake was soppy now that Jessica moved in with him. And Bob's feelings on the matter were never more evident than on nights out at the Hard Deck.

Without fail, a girl or two or three would hit on one of the other guys, and they would deftly try to pawn said girl off on Bob only for the girl to look rather disappointed and kind of wander away. He just had that effect on women. He was a lot better with the written word than with the spoken, and something just didn't translate well for him when he was met face-to-face with an intriguing smile and an attractive body.

He groaned as he watched another woman head off in the direction of the bar as soon as he nervously stumbled his way through a sentence where he tried to introduce himself. How exactly was he supposed to compete with Jake Seresin anyway? Nobody who originally wanted him was going to settle for Bob.

"I got you more peanuts." Bob looked up to see Bradshaw's wife smiling at him and holding out a cup. Ever since he visited Chippy's bar, he didn't want to admit to Penny that hers weren't quite as good, but if someone went out of their way to bring him a cup full, he was going to eat them. And it was also nice of her to make sure he was included tonight while Mickey was babysitting his nephews.

"Thank you," he replied softly, and she patted his shoulder.

"I saw you talking to that girl?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bar. "She's really cute."

Bob shook his head as he looked down at his ginger ale. "I mean, yes, she was very pretty, but I wasn't really talking to her. She didn't want to talk to me, actually." He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he looked up at her from his stool. "She wanted to talk to Jake."

She rolled her eyes, and Bob kept his fingers occupied by cracking open a peanut. He craved the familiar intimacy he saw when he looked at his friends and their partners. Maybe jealousy wasn't the right word, but he always felt left out of the loop. They all knew something he didn't, and he craved to be on the inside with someone of his own.

"I'd choose you over Jake any day, Bob. You're smart, and I like talking to you."

He smiled at her as he said, "That may be the case, but you'd choose Bradley over me."

"You got me there," she said with a laugh as she kissed his cheek, making him avert his eyes to the floor. "I'm probably not the best judge of character though."

Bob looked toward where she was smiling now and saw Bradley with his hideous tie dye shirt and idiotic looking backwards baseball cap as Jessica slaughtered him in a game of pool. "Yes, you are," Bob told her quietly. Because as soon as Bradley looked at his wife, his expression became one of complete wonder.

"Sugar! Come here! Jessica is being mean to me again!"

She squeezed Bob's shoulder and then took him by the hand, bringing him along with her to the pool table. He blushed again as he looked a little nervously at Bradley, but everyone knew Bob was harmless. He was the one just drinking a ginger ale since he had to drive home.

"Baby," Bradley whined. "She won't even let me try to make a shot."

"That's not her being mean to you. That's her being better than you," his wife replied. "And what's the moral of the story again?"

"Women should never be underestimated," Bradley and Jake said in unison.

"That's right," Jessica said as she sunk the 8-ball into one of the corner pockets. "Especially ones who have a PhD and tenure." She handed her pool cue to Bradley and did a little dance. Then she reached into Bob's cup of peanuts and said, "Chippy's are better."

"They are," he agreed with a nod and a grin. He cleared his throat as Bradshaw's wife finally dropped his hand. "So I heard the new semester starts on Monday?"

"Yes," Jessica gushed as she fixed her glasses. "And Brian took a position at the community college, so this should be my best semester yet."

Bob already knew that Jake was relieved that his girlfriend would be going to work in a more comfortable environment every day, but it was nice to see how excited she was.

"You know what I was thinking?" Jessica asked Bradshaw's wife quietly. Bob wondered if he should step away and give them some privacy, but they both kept helping themselves to the cup of peanuts. "Maybe we could put something up on the notice board in the main building, kind of inviting the other female teachers at the school to have lunch together one day? I felt so embarrassed and excluded from things because of Brian, I just thought it might be nice for anyone else who feels marginalized?"

Bradley's wife nodded. "I think that's a great idea."

Bob listened to them for a few more minutes before he wished them good luck as they started back to school for the fall term, and then he excused himself for the night. He stood outside in the dark parking lot for a few minutes and listened to the sound of the ocean before he climbed into his truck and headed for his silent house.

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

"Dr. Webber."

Anna looked at the name placard on her office door and bounced up and down. "Dr. Webber," she read out loud again. She had the worst office on campus, no doubt about that. It was miniscule and kind of smelled like stale bread since it was so close to the cafeteria, but she loved it. All of the shelves were crammed with her books, and she could lock the rest of the world out when she needed a minute to herself. She just hoped that the tiny office wasn't a sign of bad things to come after San Diego State University willingly hired her less than a month before the start of the term.

In a matter of eight weeks, she had finally- finally- graduated with her PhD in English Literature and secured a job on the other side of the country. She sold everything she could think of, including her rings, and moved from gloomy New Jersey to a studio apartment in sunny southern California. Sure, all she had in her kitchen was a toaster oven and a mini fridge, but she was on her own. She had nobody to answer to. And she never would again.

"I guess everything is smaller here," Anna told herself as she locked her office door and went in search of the classroom where she would be holding the first lecture of her teaching career. She was too early for the class, but she was filled with nervous energy and decided that walking around would help.

She looked in classrooms and listened to a poetry lecture on the third floor. She found a really secluded ladies' bathroom as well as a reading nook. Eventually, she and her copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn managed to wander all the way to the main building where she found a faculty lounge.

It smelled like coffee, and there were snacks out on the counter, and everyone was talking in pairs or small groups. She should probably get to know her colleagues, but she also didn't mind the anonymity that came with observing everyone without engaging. She was good at that, and she'd spend too much time around people who needed to be in the spotlight all the time. As she reached for a donut with pink frosting, she saw a notice board across the room and went to take a look.

The hum of conversation around her was comforting as she read about a yoga class in the quad, alumni night, and a teacher appreciation banquet. Then her eyes caught on a single piece of paper with a plain black font. It wasn't flashy, and somehow it reminded her of a page from a favorite book.

WELCOME BACK FOR THE FALL SEMESTER, LADIES!

If you're interested in getting to know some other women who work on campus, let's meet for a friendly lunch on the first Tuesday of the term! Noon in the quad next to the weird tree.

Anna laughed. She knew where the quad was, but she wasn't sure which tree was the weird one. They actually all seemed a bit out of place to her since she wasn't used to living near palm trees. She started to skim a notice about how to recycle old textbooks, but she didn't get far before she was re-reading the one about meeting up for lunch.

If it was truly meant just for women, then it sounded kind of nice. She could eat her sandwich outside. She liked weird trees. The idea of having zero men around made it even more appealing. The last thing she wanted was to develop an interest in anyone right now. Or maybe ever again.

She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the page before checking the time and leaving with her donut. Twenty minutes later, with her class assembled before her in a small lecture hall, she cleared her throat and said, "Welcome to English 205. I'm Dr. Webber, and this semester we will be covering the classics."

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

"You can do this. You'll be fine," Anna said as she walked slowly across the quad toward a palm tree that looked like it somehow started growing sideways about six feet up from the ground. "It's just some people."

But she wasn't good with people. Kevin had been quick to tell her that all the time. He liked to point out that she was awkward unless she was talking about literature or poetry or something from the New York Times bestseller list. Apparently she didn't know how to talk about normal things. Her hands started to sweat as she held onto her brown paper bag and can of ginger ale.

"Oh god," she groaned as she got a little closer. Truly, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was just two women smiling as they talked to each other with their lunches. But they were both beautiful. Like the kind of stunning girls that Anna was always afraid to talk to when she was a teenager. One was wearing a suit and high heels, and the other was wearing cute brown loafers and some tweed, and she felt like her own outfit looked awful now by comparison.

It wasn't too late to just walk past them and loop back toward her office and never try to socialize again. "Yes, let's do that." She nodded and picked up the pace a little bit. She could turn left at the weird tree and then maybe even make a run for it. "What are you doing?" she whispered, slowing down again. It was one thing to swear off men, but it wasn't going to be an enjoyable existence if she never tried to make a single friend here.

With a deep breath, she forced herself forward, and then soon two sets of eyes were on her. All she saw was matching smiles as she approached and said, "Hi. I'm Anna Webber. Is this the weird tree?"

"It's the weirdest tree I've ever seen," said the first woman as the other one jumped to her feet.

"Hi! Are you here for lunch?" she asked as she adjusted her glasses. "I told you someone would come," she whispered to the first woman before sticking her hand out. "I'm Jessica Reed! I work in the physics department, and this is my friend, and we are so, so happy you're joining us."

Anna smiled at how bubbly she was as she briefly shook her hand. "I just got here," she said with a wince. "I mean... it's my second day working here? I just got hired. In the English department. I'm teaching literature." God, could she sound like any more of an idiot right now?

But Jessica gasped in response. "Advanced Literature!" Then both women squealed, and soon the other one was introducing herself and talking about the math department and pointing out a building Anna had never been inside yet.

"It's silly, we know, but we kind of have code names for each other. I'm Advanced Calculus, and Jessica is Advanced Physics. You can be Advanced Literature. If you want." Now she looked a little uncertain while Jessica bounced in her high heels. "Wow, we sound like absolute nerds."

"We are nerds," Jessica confirmed with no shame as she looked at Anna. "I collect scientific journals. She uses math as foreplay with her husband. Do you want to eat lunch with us, Anna?"

Her response came with an ease that she hadn't felt in a long time. "Yes. Please." Then both women were shifting their lunches down and making room in the middle of the bench. Anna took a seat and watched Advanced Calculus pick a carrot stick out of the most beautifully organized lunch container she'd ever seen. She also had a tie dyed lunch box that was charming in a hideous way.

"How's your first week going?" Jessica asked as she bit into a delicious looking sandwich on fancy, multigrain bread. Anna knew she didn't fit in here at all as she pulled a plain turkey sandwich and some peanuts from her bag, but it was all she could afford right now.

"Well," she said with a sigh. "It's better than New Jersey."

Both women squealed again. "You're from the east coast!"

"Yeah," she replied as she opened her ginger ale. "I grew up in New Jersey. I went to college and grad school in New Jersey. I attempted to move to New York, and then somehow I ended up here." She left out the heartbreaking parts about Kevin, because he didn't really belong in a conversation where she was surprisingly kind of enjoying herself.

She learned the two women were from Massachusetts and Virginia, and that they both had PhDs from prestigious universities. They were both in committed relationships with naval aviators who also happened to work together. And both of the men loved packing their ladies lunches.

"Lucky," Anna muttered as she popped a peanut into her mouth and thought about the kitchen in her studio apartment. It was so small, it almost didn't exist. She was almost thirty and essentially still lived in a dormitory. How sad.

"Hey," Jessica said suddenly. "If you like peanuts, you'd probably love Chippy's!"

"What's Chippy's?" Anna asked curiously.

"Eww, no. Don't listen to Jess. Chippy's is a disgusting dive bar on the other side of campus."

"It's not disgusting! He just doesn't clean the floor."

Anna laughed. "I actually do love peanuts, but I'm not a big drinker." Then both women silently studied her, and she could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She'd said something wrong already. Of course things couldn't be this easy.

"Huh. You like ginger ale," said Advanced Calculus as she sat paused with a carrot stick halfway to her mouth.

Anna nodded as she said, "My... well, a guy I know used to make fun of me for being a ginger and loving ginger ale." She gestured to her auburn hair which was clipped up at the back of her head.

"Are you married? Or in a relationship?" she asked, and she finally bit into the carrot.

Anna didn't even have a chance to reply as Advanced Physics gasped on her other side. "You like peanuts. And ginger ale. How do you feel about men with glasses?"

"How do you feel about men with greenish blue eyes?"

"How do you feel about sweet men who blush?"

"Would you ever date a guy in the Navy?"

"Are you fond of beat up pickup trucks and country boys?"

"Do you want to come to the Hard Deck this weekend?"

Anna was starting to get whiplash as she looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wait, I'm sorry. What? I thought we were talking about a place called Chippy's?"

"We were. But now we're talking about a man called Bob."

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

Omg omg omg. Okay, here we are with a story for our lovable Bob. Thanks for reading about the Sugarverse. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

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@callsign-magnolia

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#bob floyd x oc #robert floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x oc #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fic #robert floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

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moondirti · 1 month

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so.. simon and johnny stopping by a seedy 24/7 roadhouse on their way back home post-op

featuring: established ghostsoap. pregnant fem!reader. alluded kidnapping, extremely toxic attitudes. they’re literally delusional. mentioned death. this verges on dark so please beware!

They’ve driven past it about a hundred times, never having given it more than a passing glance. Who would, really? Nothing about it seemed appealing – in all its sun-bleached paint job and flickering neon signage glory – but circumstances lent themselves to its consideration. What was supposed to be a half-day mission ended up taking two, meaning they haven’t had time to sleep let alone eat. On top of that, a delayed exfil made it so they touched down on base at an ungodly hour. By the time Price waived their paperwork and they got into their car, they were famished.

“Could eat the scabby heid aff a dog,” Johnny eventually groans. He’d tried his best to hang in there, mindful not to be a pest during the hours it takes his partner to decompress after a rough operation, but his stomach kills and he knows Simon’s does too. He only receives a grunt for a response, though the man abruptly steers into the leftmost lane, catching the nearest exit towards the place in his periphery. Cleary meant to model an American diner with it’s fading blue exterior and obnoxious banner: The Dahlia

But they’ve been in worse. They hardly take note of the coffee rings staining their table, or the homeless man who’s taken residence in a corner booth (besides the brief once-over in their threat assessment upon entering). No; they just slot themselves by the nearest exit, scan over the menu and decide to order the quickest meal possible.

Only for things to take a sudden turn when their waitress stops by.

Christ alive, Johnny wonders how you manage to glow under the harshest of fluorescents. Dewy skin. Bright eyes, if not a little sunken at the late hour. Still, you smile and do so genuinely as you waddle to their station, clicking a pen before asking: “And what can I do you for, gentlemen?”

Simon doesn’t look at you immediately, not even when you speak up. He’s too fixed on Johnny, replaying the past days’ events in his head. Revisits the hour where their comms malfunctioned, when he lost touch with his boy and had to fight not knowing whether he was holding up okay. He has trust in him, of course, more bleedin’ trust than he has in earth to keep rotating. Still–

You clear your throat.

His pupils shift to pin you under their scrutiny, only he can’t bring it in him to be as severe as he wants to be. Because, while the first thing Johnny notices about you is your beauty, the first thing Simon sees is your bump.

Obscured by your apron, but still there. Round. Full. 6 months along, by the looks of it.

He’s forced to recall Beth, Tommy by extension. An old working knowledge that comes back to haunt him. At 23 weeks, his sister in law’s pregnancy began to weigh on her. Heartburn. Backaches. Hot flashes that resulted in bouts of dizziness. She couldn’t be up for more than 2 hours at a time, and yet here you are.

What the fuck were you doing in a place like this?

“Need more time to decide?” You ask. Patient. Lovely. If Johnny weren’t so sleep-deprived, so in over his head, he would perhaps realise the subtle hints you were dropping. They’ve been staring too long now, unsettling no doubt. Grimy, each with a tell-tale bump on their waistbands that point to their armament. Simon sans hard-shell mask, but still in a balaclava and eyeblack. Both larger than life and practically alone with you in this isolated place.

It’s Simon who speaks up first. “Fish and chips for the both of us. To-go. Cheers.”

You scribble the order down, pausing to consider. “Coffee? Gotta inform you, it’s drip, bottom of the carafe so it might taste burnt too. Hotplate’s all out of sorts.”

“Aye, just the one. Gae head an’ dip yer finger in it too. Might benefit from a little sweetener.” It takes you a second to process Johnny’s flirt. When you do, though, you visibly blanch, ducking your head to hide your face as you pretend to jot what he said down.

“I’ll have that right out for you.”

And then you scurry off, glancing over your shoulder once you think you’re out of sight. Curious. Flustered.

Simon’s attention refocuses on the scotsman once you’re gone, an eyebrow raised under his mask. His partner is able to read the expressed question well enough: what do you think you’re doing? Strict, but not so much angry as it a press for him to think before he speaks, to balance the scales before he asks something of Ghost that he can’t refuse.

“Dinnae look at me like tha’.” Johnny whispers. “Bonnie lass, isn’t she?”

Simon blinks. “Expecting, too.”

“We cannae leave her here.”

Memories occur in rapid succession. Tommy. Beth. The cherubic face they had brought into the world – little Joseph, who was the first he found dead upon returning home.

He considers Johnny, Soap, this force of nature that wormed his way into his life and sunk his teeth into the rot of his heart, fastened before Simon could even think of brushing him off.

“And here’s that coffee! Your meals should be coming out soon, thank you for being patient.”

It’s a bad idea. Horrible. You could have a partner, a cozy home waiting for you. Nursery already painted. Names already chosen.

What good partner would let you work this shitty job?

It’s a bad, horrible idea. No good for anyone. They’re on constant deployment. They risk their lives on every run. You’d be put in harm’s way yourself.

Not if they hide you well enough. Their house is secluded for a reason.

It’s a bad, horrible, no good idea – but Johnny accepts the mug with a gracious smile and you bloom all pretty, hand inadvertently cradling your belly. Little flower, persisting against all odds. Growing from the fissures of broken concrete. Dignified still. Kind. Strong.

So what if they pluck you from your place? They’ve got somewhere much better for you to thrive.

next part

#this was supposed to be a lil thing #oops #simon ‘ghost’ riley #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #ghostsoap x reader #ghoap x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader x johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x read #soap x reader #ghost x soap #x reader #x female reader #ghostsoap #ghoap #cod #call of duty

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poisonous-honey · 3 months

Text

Fontaine Is Committing Childe Slander fr

Spoilers For The 4.2 Archon Quest

Content: Sagau reader insert (not the cult au), a lot of swearing

Note: Wrote this a while ago, just didn't post till now. This was written because of how frustrated I was with Childe's treatment in the quest. They did him so, so dirty.

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Hearing your scream, Neuvillette, Aether, and Paimon nearly flinched and gave themselves away if it wasn't for Skirk quickly turning around and staring them dead in their eyes.

"AFTER ALL OF THAT, WE DON'T EVEN GET TO TALK TO HIM? WHAT THE HELL"

They never liked hearing you get upset, but since this was a scripted event, they could do nothing but play their parts. Aether wanted nothing more than to jump in and find Childe for you, if even just to get you to stop yelling, but his hands were tied. And seeing the intense look the lady across from him was giving, he doesn't think he'd be able to get away with it even if he tried.

"No 'hey, how're you doing? What's up? Where the fuck did you go? How did you end up fighting a god-damn space whale? I was worried.' We really get to say none of that? Skirk just throws him away like he's yesterday's trash? At least, I think that's Skirk... Okay, fine, whatever."

The group notices a slight twitch in Skrik's expression, as if she was annoyed, but it's gone not a moment later.

"Skirk I hope you're kinda funny cause this is a terrible first impression."

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

Skirk watches as Neuvillette sends the traveller topside, hoping that he starts the scripted conversation without any hassle.

"Was it necessary to throw him so aggressively into the portal?"

Of course, that's not what happened. If Childe's mad ramblings were anything to go by, all of those that become the players "characters" seem to grow inexplicably attached to them. She didn't hold his words in high regard since he was insane, but seeing the hydro sovereign already taking a liking to you gives some weight to his words.

"He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle."

Neuvillette, still looking troubled, tells her that you really wanted to see him again after nearly 2 years of nothing.

"Didn't you also upset the player when you pounced on him and sent him to prison for no good reason?"

Neuvillette gave a slight wince, "I had no other choice. The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale gave the sentence and the law must be upheld."

Skirk doesn’t look amused, Neuvillette just sighs "... And the action itself was scripted. I had my hands tied."

"Then you have no right to look so troubled over my actions. It was simply scripted, nothing deeper. I would not intentionally go looking to upset the player, especially since they can control whoever they want. I have no desire to go back to the surface, which I would be forced to if they ever felt like messing with me."

He hums, "The player has much less control than you think. Even if they wanted to take control of you, they wouldn't or shouldn't be able to do so for quite a while. Falling into their good graces is the only way to get chosen, and you seem to have only just piqued their interest."

Neuvillette was just stating facts. He heard you crying about how your latest wishing session for Furina took everything you had. He doubts even if Skirk’s banner was a couple patches from now you'd have enough to get her. Skirk herself looks a little frustrated at the mention of gaining your favour, but quickly lets it go.

"As long as I have time to prepare, I suppose. Anyway, We should have our scripted conversation before time runs out. Unless you want them to start freaking out again."

"Of course not, let us continue."

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

"The fuck do you mean he's already in Snezhnaya."

Lyney's eyes slightly widen in shock, not expecting that visceral of a reaction. Aether slightly shakes his head to try and get him not to worry about it while Paimon starts her bashful idle as a way to look elsewhere without arising suspicion.

"We don't even get to say goodbye, what the heck. Wait, we never even figured out what was going on with his vision either. They actually just threw him to the wayside! If he doesn't show up in the next interlude, I'm going to be ☆mad☆"

Aether tilts his head down as he starts to ponder. He was also a bit frustrated with how little they learned about what was going on with him. Obviously the whal- Narwhal was involved in someway, but nothing is explained outside their connection. He's suddenly ripped from his thoughts as you pick his next dialogue option and continue the story.

The story continues for a little bit as Arlecchino arrives to join the conversation. You add in some quips of your own as you're watching, but are mostly silent. They just take it as you being tired from the whirlwind of emotions the quest put you through.

Aether then realizes the next actions he has to take and struggles to keep a straight face.

*Actually, I just remembered something... Please help us deliver this.*

"I swear to god, don't give her Childe's vision. He hates her. He trusted us."

Aether can no longer hold back his wince as he holds out Childe's vision for Arlecchino to take. She almost looks amused as they hear you sigh.

"Goddammit."

🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

Childe was in agony.

This pain went far beyond his physical injuries. The last words he heard from you were you crying out to him. It frustrated him to no end that by the time he gets to see you again, he passes out. He can barely remember your words of praise and cooing about how cool he was for fighting such a creature. Your worry and the fact he doesn't even get to talk to you after all this time hasn't left the forefront of his mind since he woke up. Injuries be damned, he wanted to find the Traveller. He wanted to get something out of that vacation, more than just one conversation, getting arrested, and an incomplete fight. He thought that as long as you still had his vision, he would surely see you again and his vacation would end smoothly, but of course the story seemed to have it out for him. All he could do now was lay here in pain, stuck in his mind while his family is off doing something else.

He's upset he didn't get to finish his fight and that you had to finish it for him.

He's upset his foul legacy has taken such a toll on his body, he can't do anything.

He's upset that his family has to see him in such a state.

He's upset he missed your first encounter with Skirk.

He's upset he didn't even get to talk to you again.

And more than anything, he's upset he can't be there for you.

As he was about to continue wallowing in self-pity and regret, he suddenly finds himself fully geared, standing in front of the Abyss, with no injuries.

"Such bullshit. I loved the story quest, but why was Childe pushed to the side. It's almost like they had no idea what to do with him after they got him to the whale. Oh! It's just one of the creatures he's been wanting to fight for nearly all his life. Do we get to know how he feels about it? Nooo of course not. My man just wanted to go on vacation, and he had to deal with all of this."

Hearing your voice almost washes away all his stress, and hearing you complain about how he was treated washes away all his sorrow. It pleases him to know you hated what happened to him just as much, if not more, than he did. He could tell from your ranting and the fact you've already gotten 36 stars that you were going to fight just to let off steam. That's perfect for him. Killing something is just what he needs to take his mind off of recent events, killing things with and for you makes it even better. He'll be sure to make the best of this before you log off for the day, and he's back to being bedridden.

#sagau #self aware genshin #genshin x reader #childe x reader #iw8wgwbsiwhwbd JUSTICE FOR CHILDE #HIS TREATMENT IN THIS QUEST WAS BULL #WHAT KIND OF A VACATION WAS THIS #and after everything he went through for Tuecer you know he hates that he had to go home like that #I'm not even a Childe simp but omg i just couldn't #I like my plot holes to be filled in please #though if they were actually answered in the quest please let me know #i need answers #Pois.Posts #pois.writes

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bimbobaggins69 · 11 months

Text

Heavy metal parking lot

eddie munson x metal head fem!reader

summary: the last thing you ever expected was to hit it off with a cute guy at a Judas Priest concert, but stranger things have happened.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, all porn almost no plot, no use of y/n, use of pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl etc.), smoking the devils lettuce, queer!eddie, reader has nipple piercings, dom/sub dynamics, some degradation (but eddie is still a simp), oral (m receiving), unprotected rough p in v sex (this is fantasy, pls don’t have unprotected sex with strangers), anal play (f receiving).

notes: just a dirty little one shot. Sorry, there will not be a part two. Thank you to my loves: @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can & @stwritings for beta reading <3 also, blame @bettyfrommars & @xxhellfiregirlxx for me posting this filth on our holy day.

wc: 3.1k

This was a stupid idea, stupid, stupid.

But here you are driving to the market square arena, an hour away from home, dead in the middle of a scorching summer, alone.

You had this elaborate plan for months, ever since you had bought your tickets. You and your best friend Abbee were supposed to meet up at your house, get ready together, go grab some fuel and head to the show a little early to hang out in the parking lot. That unfortunately is not what ended up happening. You got ready…alone, got food…alone and now you’re making the trip…alone.

You can’t be mad at your friend, she did have a very valid excuse as to why she was unable to make it. You couldn’t help but to kick yourself for never being brave enough to put yourself out there and make new friends, but maybe that would change, maybe you would meet some cool people at the show, some Judas Priest fans seemed like the perfect place to start.

The parking lot was jam packed, men and women in all their Judas Priest or Dokken gear, huge banners held out by adoring fans, beer cans littering the lot as weed and cigarette smoke fog the air.

You finally find parking, lucky for you it seems to be the last vacant spot left, squeezed tight between a red Camaro and a brown van.

Better than nothing.

As you exit your black Honda accord, your eyes flit around the lot, taking in your surroundings as you breathe in the second hand smoke.

“Hey, sick shirt.” A gruff voice towards your left calls out. You look around for a second before your eyes finally land on the owner of the van that's parked beside you.

His brown wavy hair gets hit by a gust of wind, as if he’s some hot character in one of those movies that the protagonist is in love with. You definitely couldn’t deny his hotness.

His defenders of the faith shirt clung to his body like a second skin, tight dark blue jeans with a chain adorned his lower half along with white reeboks.

He had a joint perched between his two fingers as his eyes so boldly roamed your figure.

“Thanks,” you acknowledge, as you look down at your ‘hell bent for leather’ cropped tee, and then back up to meet his mischievous smirk. “Yours is sick, too.” You offer in a small but cheerful voice.

“You wanna come smoke with me, pretty girl?” He offers as the mischievous smile grows, like the grinch who stole Christmas.

“Uhh, sure why not?” You shrug, making your way over to the van and taking a seat on the red carpeted floor, your leather mini skirt now hiked up around the very tops of your thighs while your knee high boots hang out the side, resting on the asphalt below you.

“I’m Eddie.” He declares while holding out a heavily ringed hand, you stare it down ogling between his tattoos, black nail polish and badass rings before placing your smaller appendage in his, you firmly shake it with a smile as you tell him your name.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He chuckles before handing you the dwindling joint.

You take a hit while you let your eyes wander around the inside of his van, a small mattress set up with a colorful quilt and two fluffy pillows.

Various magazines of the adult variety scrawled out haphazardly on the floor, a six pack of coors lite sits on the arm rest between the two front seats, breaking the law plays out through the speakers.

Though he’s not the only one, various Judas Priest songs could be heard throughout the stadium's parking lot.

You take another small hit, passing back the now roach sized spliff. Eddie tries to get one more hit out of it, before throwing it to the ground and stepping on it with the toe of his white sneaker.

You begin to stand up with the thought that you may be overstaying your welcome, until Eddie puts a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to go.” The shy look on his face is the total antithesis of his cocky demeanor when he’d first waved you over.

“Oh, okay. I just didn’t want to bother or keep you from anything.” Your response is sheepish and the butterflies in your belly begin fluttering about.

“No baby, you're not keeping me from anything.” He beams.

That damn nickname pulls you in like a moth to a flame.

As you and Eddie grow better acquainted, you realize he has a great sense of humor with an eccentric personality.

You also quickly realize you want him.

Right here in the back of his van.

You scoot your bottom back, making your way into the wagon. The action causes your skirt to roll up further along your thighs, giving Eddie the perfect glimpse of your black panties.

You swing your feet inside and hoist yourself up on your knees, as graceful as possible. Waddling over like a penguin to fling yourself onto the mattress that had your mind wandering.

“Mmm, this is comfy.” You sigh with a smile, as your body burrows deeper into the off white sheets below you.

Eddie stands just outside the door, eyes unable to leave your backside as you cuddle up on his mattress. ‘Was this his lucky day?’ This shit never happens to him, well at least not with women anyway. He had better luck with men.

Thank you Judas Priest, Eddie silently prays to the sky before making his way inside the vehicle to join you.

“Mind if I lay down?” He mumbles, surprising you with his close proximity.

You turn, catching onto the puppy dog eyes he’s giving you; and what you would give to have them looking down at you while he’s working your body to sweet, sweet release.

“No, of course not.” You giggle, the sound makes Eddie twitch in his pants.

He was a sweet boy, you wanted him to fucking ruin you.

You turn to face him, head resting on your palm as you pat the spot beside you.

The sly smirk returns as he lays down on the mattress, mirroring your exact position.

“Shows gonna start in an hour.” He whispers, scooting in closer towards you, the warmth radiating off of his skin is sending your body into a frenzy.

“Mm, so we have enough time?” You sweetly whisper back.

“Enough time for what? Hmm?” Your bodies continue to gravitate together, a pull so strong it was like you were both attached to magnets.

“For this..” you breathily huff before straddling Eddie’s waist, the groan that escapes him makes your eyes roll back, as you begin to grind down on his growing erection.

“Fuck” Eddie hisses as his hands fall to your waist, now controlling your movements and pulling you in deeper.

“That’s exactly what I intend on doing.” The air gets caught in your throat as a small laugh leaves your lips, your clit catching on rough denim fabric, Eddie swears every time you giggle it’s like an angel gets its wings. It’s sweet and soft, just like you.

You lean in closer, soft plump lips meeting yours in a tangle of tongues, it’s hot and desperate as you are for each other.

Eddie moans into your mouth as your movements get more daring, practically bouncing on his clothed lap. His eyes quickly flicker to your tits as they jiggle with each bounce, it’s clear you’re not wearing a bra, and the idea makes Eddie’s mouth water and his cock stiffen. It feels the hardest it's been since he took a dick in his ass for the very first time. He needs to be inside you and he hopes you're willing to give him that, he’ll do anything for it, at this moment. He feels like a desperate idiot; but he is, he really is so fucking desperate for you.

You immediately notice the way Eddie’s eyes have been trained on the perky slopes of your breasts, with an ever growing smirk you take the hem and hike the shirt up and over your head to be discarded on the red carpet of his van.

“Holy shit!” Eddie practically pants, like a dog who’s out of water.

His decorated hands move up from your hips as they begin to tweak at your nipples, nimble fingers rubbing over the double balled jewelry that sits on each hardened peak.

“Fuck, such pretty tits!” He groans “and they’re pierced, Jesus.” Eddie was enthralled, absolutely fucking enthralled by you.

You lean down, planting soft kisses to Eddie’s long, beautiful neck, leaving behind remenits of your red lipstick and spit soaked bruises.

“Mmm…” he hums as you suck and bite at a spot under his ear lobe.

“Please, fuck me.” You breathily murmur into his ear, before you lift yourself back up using his pecs as leverage, eyes meeting his as you gauge his reaction to your plea.

“You sure, baby?” He whispers before leaving a sloppy kiss to your jaw.

“I’m so sure, please Eddie.” The way you moan his name as you beg for him creates something feral inside of Eddie, his eyes now glazed over into something dark, his jaw tightens as he grabs two rough handfuls of your ass, that are now exposed while your skirt sits carelessly on your lower back.

His right hand slowly glides up your body and into your hair, quickly tightening his fingers around the strands at the base of your neck.

“You want my cock, princess?” He challenges through his teeth.

“Yes, mmhmm, so bad!” You insist with a shout, having your hair pulled has always made you drip between your legs.

“Then go on.. take my cock out, you cock hungry little slut.” He growls as his fingers wrap tighter around your hair before quickly pulling his hand away, he gives your ass one hard spank before he’s back to grabbing at the meat.

You make quick work of his handcuff belt, unbuttoning and swiftly pulling down the zipper before dipping your thumbs into the waistband of both his boxers and jeans and peeling them off, leaving both garments to sit around the tops of his knees.

The sight you’re met with causes you to gasp, he has to be at least 9 inches, it was red and throbbing, wetness from his precum already saturating the mushroom tip.

“Like what you see, baby?” He brags with a smirk that could make Satan himself shiver.

“You’re so pretty, every part of you.” You admit as you lick your bottom lip, with hunger in your eyes.

Eddie wraps a ringed hand around the base of his cock, vulgarly slapping the air with it,

“Where do you want it, huh sweetheart?” His grunt made more slick pool from your needy cunt.

Showing is better than telling, so you plant your knees between his thighs, bringing your face mere inches from his pulsing hard sex.

“Holy fuck, are you gonna—” his eyes roll back as your tongue glides up the underside of his cock, before wrapping your lips around his tip. “No girl has ever given me head.” He huffs while throwing his head back.

You let go of his cock with a wet pop, “no one’s ever sucked your dick before?” You scrunch your face up in confusion, there’s no way he’s never been treated to some head, that would be a travesty.

“I have, j-just not by a-a women.” He stutters out in embarrassment, as his face flushes a bright red that travels down his neck.

It takes you a second to understand what he means, “oh” was all you said, before shrugging and getting back to work on his tip.

He smiles down at you, pulling all of your hair out of your face and holding it together in a makeshift ponytail as he gently guides your head up and down on him, until you’re taking him deeper, so deep your nose is now brushing against the curly hairs at his base, you swallow his tip down before you begin rapidly moving and twisting your head as if a women possessed.

“Oh my— whoa, fuck baby!” He keens into the stuffy air of the van, “your mouth feels so fucking good!” He begins rapidly pumping his hips up, fucking your throat as spit strings fall to his balls, you reach a hand out and begin massaging them, making him growl in pleasure.

“Okay baby, okay angel please, please stop.” Eddie whimpers as he pulls you off of his cock, the spit on your lips remains connected to Eddie’s tip.

He rubs over the messy swollen flesh with the pad of his thumb, as he hums in satisfaction.

“All fours, now.” He commands before shifting up and onto his knees, you crawl further up the mattress, finally laying your head against the sheets that were now dampened by his back, you arch your ass up while making sure your stomach was equally lowered, the position causing your ass to stick out more for him.

“Good girl.” He praised before giving your ass another harsh slap. “Let’s get these off of you.” Eddie slides your black thong over your butt and down your legs, slowly pulling them off from around your feet.

He throws your panties towards the front of the driver's seat, the black fabric lands perfectly on his dashboard. “M’keepin’ those.” He chuckles.

You’re so lost in desire, that someone could’ve told you Rob Halford himself was out signing autographs and you wouldn’t have bat an eyelash or made any attempts to move.

“Fuck, look at these pretty holes.” Eddie groans while running the tips of his fingers from your clit up towards your asshole. “You like getting all of your holes filled, princess?” He smirks at the way your body reacts to him and how loud you moan at his words.

Your ‘yes’ is muffled by the mattress, Eddie’s having none of it.

SLAP!

“Speak up!” He grumbles, before taking both cheeks roughly in his hands and spreading them.

“Yes! I love it!” Your wail has Eddie’s smirk growing more devilish

“I know you do.” He mocks as his middle finger teases your entrance, he causes your body to writhe and groan in desperation by slipping just the tip of his finger in and out of your aching hole.

Finally after all of his teasing, he slips his full finger inside, pumping in and out at a splitting speed.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He gasps while resting his head on your backside as he still works you with his finger, finally slipping another one in and scissoring them in an attempt to stretch you out.

He hasn’t even fucked you, yet you’re still an incoherent mess as slobber begins to pool on the sheets below your face.

His head starts to slowly move closer to where you’re spread, you gasp and wiggle when you feel his wet tongue slowly lick over your puckered hole.

“Oh fuck!” You blubber, the action making you clench around Eddie’s fingers.

“Mm, oh you like getting your asshole licked?” He scoffs in a teasing tone “it feels good, doesn’t it?”

All you can do is nod and sob into his cheap cologne smelling sheets.

Slowly slipping his fingers out as he moves in closer, replacing his digits with his throbbing cock.

“You ready, princess?” He surveys as he runs his calloused hands up and down your back, gently rubbing at your soft skin.

“Mmhm, I’m ready.” You consent while lifting your head to get a good look at him as he slides into you.

His tip begins breaching your entrance as your eyes remain locked on each other, you and Eddie’s brows are both furrowed and jaws slack as he pushes in deeper.

“Oh, fuck!” Eddie growls as he continues to stretch you out. If he were to die in this very moment, he would die a happy man, the way your pussy is squeezing and choking him; he’s fucked tight assholes, but never a pussy this tight and he thinks it might be his new favorite thing, the way you get so effortlessly wet and the ridges on your walls that stimulate his cock so sensationally. The weed makes his mind go to some weird places; maybe I found some kind of holy grail pussy? He shakes his head of the weird thoughts beginning to plague his mind.

“Yes, right there!” Your screeching brings him back down to this dimension, making him drive deeper and pound harder into you, hitting that spongy spot over and over until you’re shaking underneath him, knees almost buckling at the intense pleasure that is now conquering your body. His fingers are pressed so deep into the skin of your upper thighs, that you’re positive they’ll be bruised by tomorrow.

“Right there?” Eddie mockingly smirks as he hits it over and over with his tip, “that your spot, baby?”

Your “mmhmm” comes out so whiny and desperate, he knew you were close and so was he but he needed to see you fall apart first.

Eddie quickly brings his thumb up to his lips, the calloused finger dipping into his mouth as he sucks, getting it all nice and wet before you feel it prodding your unused hole, he begins thrusting faster as his digit reaches the second knuckle. “Oh my god, you have the tightest fucking holes.” He sounds so out of breath and fucked out by this point, his loud groans, filthy words and extra finger are making you reach that peak of toe curling completion at a hurdling speed.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whine as you begin to back up into his thrusts, making his cock and finger hit deeper depths.

“Yes, cum for me baby.” He urges as he’s on the precipice of his own high.

“Yes, yes…” you babble as your body tenses, uncontrollably shaking as you come undone, Eddie’s thumb continues to work your asshole, while he fucks you through the most intense orgasm you’ll probably ever have.

“I-I’m coming baby, fuck!” Eddie shouts before he pulls himself out of your tight heat, hand maniacally working his cock until his warm seed spurts into your stretched out asshole.

“Holy shit!” He groans while his body falls over yours, you both begin to laugh until you hear someone pound their fist on the side of the van.

“Hey, Eddie—” you gasp at the disturbance, eyes going wide when you catch a glance at the metalhead, “the show's about to start man, everyone’s lining up at the door!” The raspy masculine voice calls out again, before you’re left in silence.

You and Eddie begin frantically getting dressed in hopes to get a good spot in line.

Once out into the fresh summer air, Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders, “you wanna watch the show with us, princess?” He proposes with a sweet grin, while lighting a cigarette.

You were right, a Judas Priest concert was the perfect place to make new friends.

taglist:

@michellecrusher @ali-r3n @crybabyddl @definitelynotecho @ajkamins @daniellabrandt @bl4ckt00thgr1n

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie munson fic

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cherienymphe · 11 months

Text

Basic Training VI (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

You were helping Christine out in the kitchen when Margaret brought her daughter downstairs. The brunette was really kind, you’d come to learn, patient in making sure you got everything right. She didn’t seem bothered by your quiet disposition, instead content to simply talk to you with no expectation of any responses in return.

When the other brunette made herself known, Christine had awed.

“Oh, she’s getting so big,” she cooed, pausing in what she was doing. “Almost a year now, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Margaret breathed, a bright smile on her face. “Steve’s already talking about trying for another.”

You turned away, resting your gaze on kneading the dough, afraid to screw it up and afraid to stare in the face of your possible future. Although, you supposed that there was nothing possible about it, and you struggled to accept that. Your chest grew tight as you heard them fuss over the baby girl behind you, not wanting to entertain the thought of that being you one day, all smiles and sparkly eyes as you held Peter’s baby.

“Do you want to hold her?”

It took you too long to realize that Margaret was talking to you, and you hesitantly looked over your shoulder. They were both quiet as you looked between them, an encouraging smile on Margaret’s face as your gaze eventually fell to the little girl in her arms. You felt unsure, glancing down at your hands before brushing them on your apron.

“I…” you gestured to the dough. “I’m a mess and…I don’t know if I should…”

“It’s okay,” the new mom softly encouraged. “She loves meeting new people.”

She was approaching you before you could protest any further, and you carefully took the baby when she handed her off. You supposed that Margaret was telling the truth, her daughter taking you in with wide eyes and studying you just as much as you were studying her. She was very sweet, very cute, and you felt yourself frowning a bit.

“I’m taking her for a walk around the property,” Margaret mused, and Christine hummed at that as she continued cooking. “Get her some fresh air and sun. Maybe even let her crawl around a bit.”

She poked at her daughter’s cheeks, a fond smile on her own rosy lips, and she let out a sigh.

“Pretty soon there’ll be more babies filling up this house, and then Laura, Sharon, and I won’t feel so alone.”

Margaret said it so casually, and you blinked for several reasons. For one thing, you didn’t know that Laura and Sharon had children too, and again, you were reminded of how isolated you felt from the other women. They probably sat around and chatted with each other about these things, those three in particular maybe even watching their children play.

In the same train of thought, your stomach churned at the mention of more children. You wondered just how long Margaret had been here for her to be so casual and content with her situation, to talk about everyone’s situation this way. Then again, you wondered if it had more to do with who she was married to. With a husband like Steve, there probably wasn’t any other choice but to find happiness in this predicament in some way.

Either that or be wholly miserable all the time.

Be humiliated all the time.

Her words had you handing her child back to her, and it was then that Steve appeared at the entrance of the kitchen. The sight of him had you flinching, and you almost felt like you were wrong to touch his child, stepping away from Margaret just as she smiled at the blond.

“There you are,” he said, smiling back at her and fully stepping into the kitchen.

You discreetly returned to the dough, but you could feel his gaze on you.

“I was just bringing Sarah down for a walk and wanted to visit whoever was in here making breakfast for everybody,” she sweetly replied, and you wondered if it was exhausting to have to appear to be that happy all the time.

You couldn’t imagine Peter expecting that of you, and you looked down, thinking of that morning in which Peter had forced you to watch Steve punishing Margaret. You felt your skin grow cold as you recalled his brutality, just the sheer act of treating someone that way, and especially for something as minor as messing up food or not smiling as big as he expected.

In the back of your mind, there was a stray thought of gratitude that you weren’t in her place.

“That’s great, honey,” you heard Steve tell her, and it sounded genuine. “Especially since Y/N is here.”

You paused at that, hesitantly looking over your shoulder, shuddering as your gaze met his. Despite the smile on his pink lips, the look in his blue eyes didn’t quite match, an emptiness to them that had your stomach sinking.

“It’ll be good for her to be around the children more,” he mused, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his wife’s forehead, never taking his eyes off of you. “It’ll help her get…acclimated to how things are around here.”

You understood the words that went unsaid, turning back around and fighting back tears.

Steve wanted you to face your future, to stare at it head on and accept your fate. He wanted you to see the wives with their kids and maybe even interact with the small children, slowly opening up to the idea of children your own someday. At that thought, you wondered if Margaret had even come down here of her own volition, or if it was carefully orchestrated by the same man who’d orchestrated everything else in this house.

You only released a shuddering breath when they both left, and you found your thoughts drifting to Peter. He was still in bed when you’d made your way downstairs per the routine, something you were a bit better at now. You were still a God-awful cook, but as long as Steve wasn’t standing over you, you were fine. Funnily enough, outside of the night you’d cooked fish, the only time you’d come close to that was when Peter had helped you that morning.

There was a brief thought that you wished you had his help, now.

You immediately paused at that, gently shaking your head with a frown. You shouldn’t want Peter’s help for anything, even if only to make your time here easier. The hand he had in your kidnapping was astronomical. After all, he was the sole reason you were even here. As much as you didn’t want to subject anyone else to this, you sometimes wondered about what would’ve happened if you’d never gone into that diner that day.

Maybe you, Pietro, Wanda, and MJ would be almost to Florida by now. Maybe you’d be in some town a lot nicer than this, enjoying historical monuments and whatever shopping mall Wanda would no doubt be excited for. Tears kissed your eyes at the thought, and you wiped your face with the back of your hand.

Thinking about your friends made you sad, but not thinking about them felt…disrespectful. You couldn’t forget them, for as long as you lived, but reliving your time with them and wondering about what could’ve been hurt too much. It made your chest ache in ways that almost brought you to your knees, and you were grateful when Christine gently reminded you to roll the biscuits out small.

“Will I ever get to go outside?”

Your question was so quiet that it was a wonder Peter even heard it, and you looked over your shoulder at him as he took his utility belt off. So much of your road trip had been dedicated to nature and outdoor activities, courtesy of your contribution, and being stuck in this house and only able to gaze up at the stars from a barred window was getting to your head. It was even worse during the day, unable to step outside and soak in the sun.

You knew why, of course.

“Eventually,” he finally answered, slowly making his way to you. “Probably not anytime soon though…”

His word choice was not lost on you, and you blinked at him, frowning slightly.

“It’s just like with the basement,” Peter explained, drinking you in. “The same way Steve wouldn’t let you out if he thought you were a danger to anyone or was going to escape…”

He trailed off, letting you fill in the dots, and you turned back around to look up at the sky. You could feel Peter’s gaze on you as you pressed your forehead to the window, just standing and watching the outside world. You were sure that if you were let outside, right now, you would run. You probably wouldn’t even be able to help it.

However, the thought of being caught mentally scared you away from the mere possibility.

You glanced over your shoulder when you heard Peter walk away, watching him disappear into the bathroom. You stared at the door for some time before turning back around. You didn’t like sleeping next to Peter…but you’d unfortunately found that sleeping without him was impossible.

The nightmares still woke you up sometimes, and in your delirious and fearful state, it was easy to accept his comfort as he shushed you and held you. It was shameful really, and your gaze found the floor. It was usually why you took this time to get into bed before him. You liked to pretend like you were asleep whenever he got out of the bathroom, unwilling to watch him crawl into bed and lay beside you.

It was easier to pretend this way.

You pulled the covers over you, still staring at the window, and you pressed your lips together. You felt like you were in some screwed up purgatory, stuck between the traumatic events that led to your capture and your inevitable future. You were unable to go back to before it had happened, but your mind wasn’t ready to go forward either.

You weren’t ready to become like Jane and find happiness here, smiling at Peter whenever you saw him, and you for sure weren’t ready to become like Margaret or Laura or Sharon. You couldn’t imagine having a baby with the man who’d kidnapped you and ruined your life, smiling at the child like a gift instead of what it really was.

Physical evidence of just how in deep you were.

Thoughts of your nightmarish future guided you to sleep, and the next time you woke up, Peter’s arm was around you, holding you in place and attempting to keep you from flailing. Your chest was heaving, and his other hand was on your head, smoothing over it as he gently shushed you.

“You’re okay,” he breathed. “You’re safe…”

The cool air hit your face, and it was then that you realized you’d been crying in your sleep. You couldn’t stop though, because your nightmare wasn’t just a nightmare. It was real, and you were currently living it. Peter’s soft and soothing tone wasn’t doing much, and your forehead pressed into your pillow, your tears wetting it.

“Y/N…”

You really didn’t like Peter saying your name, the sound of it coming from his lips causing a shudder to climb up your spine. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around you, and you were wetting his chest with your tears now instead. He rocked you, gently, wiping your face and telling you that you were okay.

…but the last thing you felt like was okay.

You felt so far from okay.

“Are…are you going to make me have a baby too?”

Your voice was but a whisper in the quiet room, and you felt Peter pause. He didn’t answer right away, and the more his silence stretched, the lower your heart sank.

“We don’t have to figure that out, right now,” he whispered back. “It’s just you and me, okay?”

You sniffed.

“…but…but Steve wants the house to be full of children…” you heard and felt Peter sigh. “He expects me to have children. I know he does, I could see it on his face.”

You continued when Peter didn’t respond.

“…and what he wants he gets, right? Right?” you tearfully wondered, trembling at the thought.

“That’ll be between you and me,” Peter softly told you, playing with your hair and stroking your back. “…and we don’t have to talk about that, now. It’s okay.”

You swallowed, tearfully staring into the darkness and feeling pathetic that of all people, Peter was the only one you found yourself confiding in.

“I’m scared, Peter…”

“Of what? Of me…?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Peter almost sounded offended at the thought. You didn’t know how to tell him that you were afraid of him. You were afraid of him and Steve and every other man here, afraid of their capabilities and the predicament they’d put you in. Of course, you were afraid of Peter.

The power he held was what got you here in the first place.

Everything about Peter terrified you. He looked like an angel, but one word from him silenced your friends forever and forced you into captivity. You supposed he was the nicer of the bunch, yes, but there was something about him that Steve clearly respected, something about him that could talk you out of being punished and buy more time for you to adjust.

Your mind drifted to that day in the kitchen, the finality in Peter’s tone as he addressed Margaret. You thought about her lack of argument, how easily she’d accepted something that evidently wasn’t normal all because Peter had made his position on it clear. You thought about how at ease he was around the men who’d killed your friends, how he talked with them and laughed with them and probably thought of them as friends. Brothers even.

Yes.

You were very afraid of Peter.

…because he was both the source of your torment and your comfort.

The same man who’d put you in this situation was the one who held you late into the night, keeping the nightmares at bay. The very same nightmares that he caused. Peter was the one you turned to whenever you were unsure about anything, unable to get direction from anyone else. He was the one you hid behind or sought out whenever Steve’s cold blue eyes fell onto you.

Peter had put you in this predicament…and he was the one you needed to survive it.

It twisted you up in ways you couldn’t even understand, and you hated the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I’m scared of everyone here,” you honestly told him. “I want to go home.”

Peter didn’t say anything to that, just softly rubbing your back. It was something you said often, and even though you both knew it wasn’t going to happen, you couldn’t stop saying it aloud. It was something you just needed to say, and Peter let you.

“Sweep up every last bit of glass…”

Steve’s cold voice had you trembling harder, and you kept your gaze on the mess before you.

“We have children that crawl around here, and I’ll be damned if one of them hurt themselves because of your clumsiness.”

You fought back tears as the blond loomed over you, shaking as you brushed more glass into the dustpan. Natasha had thought nothing of telling you to dust the foyer, an easy enough task. That was what you’d thought anyway, but somehow, you’d managed to knock over the vase on the table by the entrance, and you’d heard the thunder of heavy footsteps before the sound of shattered glass had settled into the air good. Even before Steve had rounded the corner, you knew how badly you messed up.

An apology was barely on your lips when Steve had started tearing into you, ordering you to hurry up and clean the glass. You knew he had a point about the children, and you did feel bad, but it was a genuine accident.

“That vase has been in this family for years,” he said, making you feel even worse. “…and one afternoon with you and it’s gone just like that.”

When all the glass was in the trash, you got the feeling that Steve wasn’t quite done with you, evident in the way he still stood by the foyer. Your stomach turned as you faced him, and your mind drifted to the basement. If Steve would punish his wife like he had over the smallest of things, there would be no telling what waited for you over a family heirloom.

Then again, you didn’t belong to Steve…and you hated how much that comforted you.

“Peter’s at work,” the blond hummed, and you warily eyed him. “…so, you’ll have to be punished in a way that won’t upset him too much.”

You frowned at that, eyes widening at the yard stick Steve revealed from behind his back.

“You’re adjusting…but not fast enough.”

You glanced around, and you weren’t hopeful enough to think that no one was around to witness your scolding. They were there but were no doubt hiding from the blonde’s wrath lest it latch onto anyone within the vicinity.

“That vase has been dusted a hundred times, and only with you did it become a broken mess.”

You blinked back tears, struggling to find your voice.

“I’m sorry, Steve. It…it won’t happen again,” you forced out, and he hummed.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he breathed. “Hold out your hands.”

You weren’t quite sure you heard him correctly, and you looked at him in confusion, brows drawn together. Steve’s face was as serious as ever, and at the sight, your tears finally spilled over. You pulled your lip between your teeth, shaking as you did as he told you.

“Flatter,” he said, flattening the yard stick underneath your hands until they were flat and even.

He tapped them twice.

“Palms up.”

If it was possible, your eyes widened further, but the fear of worse had you obeying him, and the deep breath you took didn’t prepare you for the pain you felt when Steve struck your hands. Against your best interest, you snatched them towards you, holding them to your chest. You held in a sob as Steve tsked.

“Hold them out,” he slowly demanded, and they were shaking even more now as you did.

Your palms were up, and Steve raised his hand, raising the yard stick with it before bringing it down across your palms again. You hissed this time, hands lowering some, but you kept them upright, knowing that was what he wanted.

He’d brought the long piece of wood down onto your palms fifteen times, each time hurting worse than the last. By the time Steve was done, you were a sobbing mess, your palms red and aching. He’d given you another lecture on the importance of being careful, but you’d been in too much pain to clearly hear a word he said.

You stumbled up to your room the second he dismissed you, clutching your hands to you the whole way.

Your back met your door as soon as you closed it, shaking so bad it was a wonder you were still standing. At that thought, you stumbled to your bed, tripping over your feet and collapsing onto the mattress. You knew that you should run your hands under some water at least, maybe even ask around about something to put on them, but you were in too much pain and too humiliated to do that.

They burned, and the only thing you were capable of doing was crying yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t an easy sleep, drifting in and out, the pain bleeding through your subconscious and waking you up here and there. With the form of punishment Steve had chosen, you surmised that you weren’t expected to carry out the rest of your duties for the rest of the day.

The next time you opened your eyes, you weren’t alone.

Peter’s fingers were on your forehead, smoothing them along your sweat-kissed skin. You thought you were dreaming at first, but when your eyes remained open, the brunette gave you a rueful smile. The sight made your face crumble, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he sighed. “Steve told me what happened.”

You squeezed your eyes shut at the mention of the blond.

“It was an a-accident,” you choked out. “I didn’t-.”

“I know,” he exhaled, fingers gently trailing down your arm. “I wish I had been here. I should’ve been the one to…”

He trailed off, but you knew what he was going to say. As crazy as it sounded, you also would’ve rather Peter had been the one to dole-out your punishment. With his hands on your arms, Peter helped you sit up, guiding you to your feet. You couldn’t stop shaking, sobs still climbing out of your lips as he pulled you into the bathroom.

He turned the cold water on, and you hissed when it ran over your palms. Peter left you for some moments, and when he returned, he turned the water off. You noticed that one of his hands were occupied, and when he sat you back down on the bed, he gently told you to hold out your hands.

You watched him kneel before you, rubbing some salve on them, something that made you initially hiss, but his circular movements with his fingers were gentle.

“A lot of things won’t be tolerated around here,” he quietly started, and you looked down. “It’s taking a lot for you to adjust, and that’s okay considering…”

Silence descended over you both for a few moments.

“…but Steve doesn’t have the patience for it. Not like I do,” he softly told you, glancing up at you as he wrapped your hands. “I can only protect you if I’m here because when I’m not…”

He continued wrapping your other hand.

“Your responsibility falls to Steve…or Sam…or Bucky, or Tony. Basically, any of the other husbands that can take it upon themselves to punish you themselves…or leave it to me.”

Peter set the gauze aside, fixing you with a gentle look as he rested his own hands on your knees.

“…and Steve isn’t the type to leave it to me.”

More tears fell, and Peter reached up to wipe them away.

“…but you work,” you tearfully said. “You’re not always here.”

Peter took a deep breath, gently grabbing your hands. You winced at the action, and you watched him bring your palms to his lips, kissing one and then finally the other.

“Do you want me to be here more?”

The question took you by surprise, and Peter looked up at you from beneath his lashes, dark strands kissing his forehead.

“I can take some time away from work if it means helping you…adjust.”

You sniffed.

“If it means looking out for you…”

More tears escaped, skipping down your cheek.

“Steve terrifies me…and I… If I have to be punished,” you struggled to say the word. “I would rather it be by you.”

Peter studied your face for a while, eventually nodding as he stood. He sat beside you on the bed, and you laid down, holding your hands to you. The balm helped with the pain some, but it was more so the humiliation and the recollection of the act that still had you crying.

Peter stroked your face, maneuvering you so that your head rested in his lap.

“It hurts, I know,” he said, tone soothing. “It’ll barely feel like anything at all in a week.”

His other hand rubbed your back, traveling to your waist and kneading the skin through your dress. The softness of his touch was a nice contrast to the flare of pain in your palms, to the memory of Steve’s punishing movements. When Peter took your hands again, pressing gentle almost nonexistent kisses to your palms, your lashes fluttered and disappointment filled you when he pulled them away.

#peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker x reader #Peter Parker #dark!peter parker #dark peter parker #marvel fic #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #Peter Parker imagine

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helluva-daughter · 5 months

Text

So let's talk about Vivziepop's designing skills!

The amount of sadness I feel when I see Vivziepop's designs of the demons in Helluva Boss is impossibly high

Simply comparing them from where she is pulling from feels like looking at a newborn compared to a grandma. Now let's go through them!

Lucifer

Viv's Lucifer, a popular depiction of Lucifer ("The Fallen Angel" by Alexandre Cabanel), and one with Jesus ("The Temptation of Christ" by Ary Scheffer)

You can see a big difference in a lot, as you can see Lucy (which will be Viv's version) has well. Clothing but we can give her a pass for that as I don't think Youtube would be fine with an animated dick on screen. Another thing is his lack of wings, bat-like or feathered along with blonde instead of red curled hair and yellow eyes instead of the blue Lucifer has in The Fallen Angel.

But what I see as the biggest thing is Lucy's lack of muscles! In both of these depictions I have chosen Lucifer appears muscular whilst Lucy has Viv's favorite smile and body shape.

Asmodeus

Here we have Viv's Asmodeus (Ozzie) and Asmodeus from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

I will give Viv major props, I LOVE Ozzie's design. If we removed the feathers, made his head bigger, and some small things it would be AMAZING! But comparing it to Asmodeus it's... wooo.... very different.

First you can see is Asmodeus does not look conventionally attractive with his strange old man face, elf ears, bull head, ram head, serpent tail, and literal chicken legs. Ozzie does have the 2 heads on his shoulders (just very small) and a tail (not a serpent one) but other than that the similarities end. Though I do think taking Asmodeus the direction to being physically attractive to most people was a good way to go.

A personal nit pick is the clear lack of a BADASS DRAGON. Yes, Asmodeus has a BADASS DRAGON. On his little Dictionnaire Infernal image he's sitting on a BADASS DRAGON which he holds a banner as he rides. Viv you could have made Fizz a cool dragon demon! Make him look LESS like Blitz's twin brother and more like something that related to the Ars Goetia canon.

Beelzebub

Now this is Viv's Beelzebub and a fly-like Beelzebub (Beelzebul) (I've left out the more manly versions of Beelzebub to keep it fair as Beelzebub is a woman)

So a big thing we can see is Beelzebub is a furry whilst Beelzebul is a straight up fly, taking the term "Lord of the Flies" much more seriously. Now comparing these two is basically impossible minus their wings and extra arms. Now with them looking nothing alike I'll put some of my own personal critique's in.

One, Beelzebub's hair and tail makes me want to vomit. It's constantly moving thus every frame it must be moved which is HORRIBLE on an animation stand point. Two, Her clothes. A direct quote from the Helluva Boss wiki says "Beelzebub represents the animal tamer/animal shows" when her clothing looks like that it's hard to believe. If it was casual clothes? Okay I'd believe that but it being her debut episode wouldn't you want her in her normal clothes? And that's ignoring her magical disappearing bra... is that just an arm strap? Three, the ear thing. God the ear thing! Viv said they were supposed to appear like beehives... girl what beehives have you been seeing? Maybe she meant honeycomb? Still I see zero resemblance.

Mammon

Here we have Viv's Mammon, Mammon (Mam) from the painting "The Worship of Mammon" by Evelyn De Morgan, and Mammon (Mon) from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

As we can see Mammon looks like the Teen Titans Go Robin mixed with a Christmas tree, the Christmas theming is quite clever I'll give Viv that. Christmas is a time of greedily taking all that is given to you through gifts. Now I could complain about how Mammon is poor rep for a fat character and simply is a widened version of her normal body type but I already made a post about that

But comparing him to Mam and Mon? Nothing similar. Mam we can see appears like a very large naked buff dark skinned man whilst Mon is a freakish old man with wide eyes and tattered clothes. Mammon shares zero similarities to either of them.

Another thing is Mammon's monster form... I believe everybody has seen it and hochie momma it is HORRIBLE! From the screenshots I've seen we don't see all of it but he's clearly intended to be a spider of sorts which is great! Spiders can often be seen with 6 flies trapped on their web being hoarded for later but Viv seems to have taken the lazy route of extra legs and 2 extra set of eyes. Anthro spiders can be so so SO cool but I feel scammed. Stolen from. My life savings have been taken by this shitty design.

Paimon

Here we have Vivziepop's Paimon and Paimon (Paimonia) from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

As we can see they appear nothing alike minus the crown and odd chicken legs though Paimon lacks the camel that Paimonia has. Paimonia also has a feminine face and a humanoid body, nothing like Paimon. Though I personally think Paimon's design is stunning what made Viv connect the two, is it because the Goetia family is intended to all be ripped from the Ars Goetia? I feel though that Paimon's design takes as much as it can from Paimonia while making him look related to Stolas but why does he need to be named Paimon?

Stolas

Here we have Vivzie's Stolas and Stolas (Stolos) from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

So, I have a lot of issues with Stolas's design, it's ugly first of all but compared to Stolos's cute yet shocked wide eyes and charming little beak it's even more obvious how ugly it is.

First, Stolos is shown as an owl (but also is described as a Raven). which Viv got right along with keeping his crown and odd horn-like feathers. However, I believe making Stolas that skinny doesn't follow the model of most owls as they can be pretty fluffy and plump. Even Stolos has a round fluffy chest that trails into his comically long legs.

Second, that cape is very horrifying but not in a good way. Nobody wants to animate a cape with that many rips! Even if they don't have to be precise. Also, why do his buttons have no lineart when everything else around it has lineart? I have the same issue with Blitz's design and his random chest orbs.

Feel free to put in your own reblogs and replies with your opinions! You can also send in asks with designs from HH or HB that aren't linked to previously existing designs unlike these fellows and I'll throw in my personal thoughts.

-Mod Paimon

#mod paimon #helluva critical #anti helluva boss #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #vivziepop critical #anti vivziepop #hazbin critique #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique

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punkshort · 5 months

Text

look what we've become - ch.2

Chapter Summary: Events from Tommy and Maria's engagement party force you to confront your feelings with Joel about the future.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol, smut (MDNI 18+), p in v unprotected sex, dirty talk, angst, fear of commitment, talk of pregnancy

WC: 7.7K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You couldn't have picked a hotter day to host the engagement party. Sweat trickled down your neck as you finished cleaning up your kitchen, cursing yourself the whole time for coming up with the idea in the first place. You straightened up and looked around the first floor, deciding you were finally satisfied with the result before sliding on your sneakers to go find your friend and co-worker, Carrie, outside.

Jogging down the porch steps, you spun your head in either direction before spotting her across the street talking to Julia, one of Jackson's elementary school teachers, and balancing a large box on her hip. They both turned and gave a wave when they saw you approach.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand, your skin feeling instantly flush when the sun's rays hit you. "House is all clean, ready to start setting up?"

"Yeah! Julia was just telling me what a fun time her kids had making the decorations, that was such a good idea," Carrie said, flicking her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and fanning the back of her neck.

"It was a great distraction from the heat this week," Julia said with a smile. "I'm glad we could help out. You girls give me a call if you need any help over there, I'll come right over."

"Seth's supposed to come by later and borrow your oven," you reminded her, and she nodded.

You both thanked her and headed back across the street. The original plan had been to have everyone in your backyard, but the amount of people on the guest list grew so large that you decided to just set up tents and tables right in the middle of the street, with your house as the home base for all the food. People would be able to easily filter in and out as they needed throughout the night. All you had to do was hang up the decorations inside and on your porch, as well as set up various tables inside to hold all the food. Seth was providing the majority, but everyone in town wanted to pitch in and help so by the end, it turned out to be a potluck.

Carrie was helping you pin up a huge banner across your porch railing congratulating the happy couple when a few of the men in town arrived to set up the tents, tables and chairs in the street. All of your neighbors supplied whatever they could to the cause: folding tables, patio furniture, camping chairs. It was a bunch of mismatched furniture under tents and umbrellas, but as long as there were enough places for people to sit, that was all that mattered.

"C'mon, let's go sit in front of the fan inside, I'm dying," Carrie told you once you had finished decorating the porch. You agreed, following her inside to grab some water and rest.

"Where's Joel?" she asked you, flopping down on the couch and throwing her leg over the arm while she took a long drink of water.

"He's helping Seth bring all the meat over," you explained, sitting down across from her to catch your breath. "They'll be here in a bit." You had planned the start of the party for dinnertime, hoping the sun would be lower by that point and possibly cooler.

"He's got to be so happy for Tommy," she said.

"Oh, yeah, of course. He probably thought Tommy would never settle down, the way he used to get around at work," you said with a giggle.

"I always forget you three knew each other before the outbreak," Carrie replied. "Seems like a lifetime ago."

"Tell me about it," you said with a sigh. "I think I've lived three lives since then."

Carrie eyed you for a moment, her eyes shining with a playful glint you knew usually accompanied some type of gossip.

"Sooo..." she began, swinging her leg back and forth over the arm of the couch with a smirk. "You think you and Joel are next?"

You sputtered on your water, somehow not expecting her to steer the conversation in that direction.

"What?" you managed to squeak out, your pulse quickening.

"Well, you two have been together for years. Longer than Tommy and Maria. I figured them getting engaged would have gotten you guys thinking about it, too," she said with a shrug.

"No. No, I don't think so," you said, shaking your head.

"Have you guys talked about it?"

"Well... no. But I don't think - um, he's never..." you struggled to finish your sentence, not sure how to verbalize the jumbled mess in your head.

"What? You think he's never thought about it?" Carrie asked, furrowing her brows.

"He was engaged a long time ago and it ended badly, I don't think that's something he's interested in doing again," you finally said, hoping that would put an end to the conversation. You wiped your palms on your shorts, suddenly feeling clammy.

"Well, that doesn't mean anything. He's crazy about you, why wouldn't he want to marry you?"

Your mouth felt dry as you considered her words. With a shaky hand, you grabbed your water and took a long sip. Carrie eyed you carefully, finally noticing your nerves.

"Do you want to marry him?" she asked softly. You looked over at her with wide eyes.

"I... I'm not sure," you finally admitted. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You can't repeat this to anyone, Carrie, I'm serious." She nodded and crossed her heart, sitting upright so she could give you her full attention.

"I love him. More than anything. And I don't want to be with anyone else," you began as she nodded along. "But the thought of marrying him scares the shit out of me."

"Why?" she asked incredulously. You shrugged.

"I can't be sure. I've been thinking about it for weeks and I can't come up with just one answer. I just hope I figure it out before -"

Just then, the screen door swung open and you heard Seth and Joel's voices carrying down the hall. You widened your eyes at Carrie and made a cross over your heart, which she returned with a resolute nod and put on her game face.

"Ladies," Seth said in greeting with a nod as he headed over to your oven, twisting the nobs to preheat it and began to shove covered trays of food inside. You both stood up and entered the kitchen, ready to help. Joel followed down the hall shortly after, placing his armful of food on the counter before turning to you both.

"Looks great out there," he said with a quick kiss to the top of your head. You inhaled deeply, taking in his intoxicating scent: a mix of his sweat and the soap he used that morning. What was wrong with you for not wanting to marry this man?

"I'm gonna take the rest of these across the street," Seth said as he scooped up the remaining trays and slipped his boots back on.

"Thanks, Seth," you called after him as he pushed open the door with a quick wave over his shoulder.

"I was going to head home and get ready, unless you need anything else?" Carrie asked, and you shook your head, thanking her as well. She gave Joel a quick smile as she made her way to the front door. Once she was sure his back was to her, she gave you a look and mouthed we'll talk later before she headed back out into the blistering heat.

"You're fuckin' kiddin' me, right?" Joel asked, a pained expression on his face when you came down the stairs and he saw the dress you had put on for the party.

"What?" you replied, genuinely perplexed as you met him in the kitchen. It was a simple sundress: pale blue with small flowers that fell just above your knee. You adjusted one of the spaghetti straps, feeling self-conscious. It wasn't racy by any means, but the way he was staring made you feel like you were wearing a corset and stockings.

"How am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you're wearin' this?" he murmured, closing the gap between you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"It's nothing special, Joel," you said with a laugh. "All the women will be wearing dresses, it's hot as hell out."

"It's special if it's on you," he said right before slotting his lips against yours, taking your breath away. He supposed you were right. It was a relatively modest dress, but he couldn't help his reaction. You used to wear dresses or skirts almost every day at the office before the outbreak, but it was a rarity now. One he didn't want to waste.

"Jesus, you're insatiable lately," you teased, giving his chest a gentle shove so you could create some space, knowing full well people would be arriving any minute to set up their dish to share.

"Well, can you blame me?" he shot right back, about to descend upon your neck when the screen door slammed open and shut. He groaned when he heard Carrie and her boyfriend, Jake, call out from the hallway.

"In here!" you replied, giving Joel's hand a quick squeeze before letting it go to greet the first of your guests.

Fortunately, once the sun set, the temperature did seem to drop a few degrees. You and Joel sat at a table with Tommy and Maria, getting small pockets of conversation in between all the well-wishers stopping by to chat and examine her ring. You probably heard the story of how Tommy proposed about twenty times by the time you started your third drink, feeling pleasantly relaxed and pleased at how well the party came together after all the hard work everyone put into it. You leaned back onto Joel's shoulder with a sigh as you listened to Maria tell an older couple how Tommy spilled red wine on the carpet because his hands were shaking so badly.

"You did good, sweetheart," Joel murmured in your ear. "This was real nice."

"Thanks," you said, turning your face upwards to give him a sweet smile. Fuck, he was so handsome. "Everyone pitched in, though. Wasn't just me."

"Yeah, but you organized it all, and that's a lot of work. You made 'em very happy," he said, nodding in the direction of his brother and his bride to be.

You smiled again and took another sip of your drink. He put his own glass down on the table in favor of putting his hand on your knee and giving you a gentle squeeze. You cocked an eyebrow at him and leaned in closer as his eyes briefly drifted down, trying to get a peek at your cleavage.

"What are you up to, Mr. Miller?" you asked quietly, your gaze flicking to his hand on your knee, which was sneakily making its way further up your leg. He shrugged and gave you a sly smirk.

"Just enjoyin' the view," he replied.

The couple Maria was talking to finally walked away, and she directed her attention back to you.

"Now that I think we finally have more than five minutes, we wanted to ask you both something," Maria said, her eyes sparkling as she looked over at Tommy.

"Will you be our best man and maid of honor?" Tommy asked with a warm smile.

"Oh my god, of course!" you exclaimed, jumping up from Joel's grasp to give Maria a tight hug.

"We'd love to," Joel confirmed, standing and giving his brother a firm handshake before you shoved him out of the way to give Tommy a hug. Joel gave Maria a kiss on the cheek and you settled back in your chair, scooting closer to Maria to hear the plans she had already come up with for the ceremony.

Joel clinked his glass of whiskey against Tommy's with a nod before they each took a sip and sat back to watch you and Maria talking animatedly about how she wants her hair to look for the big day.

"So," Tommy began with a knowing look on his face. Joel curtly shook his head to stop Tommy, but he knew you weren't listening.

"I don't know yet," was all Joel said, without Tommy having to finish his thought. "Didn't want to steal your thunder, and all that."

"Bullshit, you're just nervous," Tommy said with a chuckle.

"Ain't no rush. When it's right, I'll ask," he replied with a shrug.

"Well, you know her better than anyone," Tommy conceded.

"Who?" you asked, turning your attention towards the brothers.

"Velvet, the mare Joel's been usin' on patrol lately. She's got a stubborn streak," Tommy said, the lie rolling off his tongue with ease.

"Hm. I can see why they get along so well, then," you said with a wink, pulling a laugh from Tommy and Maria. Joel rolled his eyes at your joke, giving you half a smirk. He not-so-secretly loved it when you teased him.

"You should talk," he said, pinching your arm.

"Hey, Joel. Before I forget. I gotta ask you to come out with me in a few weeks. It's about that new settlement we made contact with a month ago, they wanna meet up and see about trades," Tommy said. "Should only take few days."

You hated when Joel had to leave overnight. You tried to keep your disappointment hidden, but Joel knew you too well. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tugging you into him and fiddling with the strap of your dress as he spoke to Tommy.

"You got it," Joel replied with a nod. "Someone's gotta make sure you live long enough to make it down the aisle."

Yet another group of people came over to chat with Tommy and Maria, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carrie and a few other women cleaning up, so you got up with a sigh to join them. As you were about to walk away, Joel stood up and snagged your hand, turning you around to face him.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't like it when I'm gone too long," he said softly, running his knuckle down your cheek.

"It's okay. I'll just have to entertain myself for a few days," you said dramatically. "But I have no idea what I'll do in that big bed all by myself," you added quietly with a pout. You ran your palms up his chest and reached up to adjust the collar on his button down before looking up to meet his darkened gaze. "Do you have any ideas, Joel?" you asked innocently, batting your lashes.

The grip he had on you tightened and he opened his mouth to reply when Julia interrupted, calling your name from a few tables away.

"Do you have any extra Tupperware?" she had asked, and you wiggled out of Joel's grasp before replying.

"Sure do, I'll meet you guys inside and help pack up all the food," you said, walking over to pick up any empty plates you could manage before following her into your kitchen, his eyes glued to the way you floated around the party until he lost sight of you.

As the night wore on, many of the older couples and families with young children filtered home, leaving about thirty or so people behind closer to midnight. You wondered how the town was going to function tomorrow, collectively hungover, as you gratefully accepted another glass of wine from Carrie and plopped on your couch. The men all ended up congregating outside on the porch or backyard, whereas the women all elected to stay inside.

You were listening to one of the girls drone on about a terrible date she had with one of the newer guys in town when the screen door whipped open loudly, followed by boisterous laughter from what sounded like the rest of the men, likely bored with being outside alone.

"Ladies!" Tommy called out drunkenly, arms spread wide with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His hip nudged one of your kitchen chairs, the legs scraping on the floor as he made his way over to Maria.

"Oh, great," Maria said, rolling her eyes, but you could see the corners of her mouth turning up into a smirk as Tommy leaned over behind the couch to wrap his arms around her.

Everyone else followed him inside, and suddenly your quiet little sanctuary was filled with loud laughter and shouting as a few men in your kitchen had a very lively argument over sports teams that no longer existed, while others wandered around the living room to try their luck with some of the women.

You stood from the couch, the conversation you all were having earlier effectively over, as you pushed through the bodies of people suddenly filling your home. As you made your way to the bathroom, your eyes darted around, trying to find Joel, but you couldn't see or hear him anywhere.

With a sigh, you snuck into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, enjoying the quiet for a moment. You checked your reflection in the mirror when you were done using the bathroom, smoothing down your hair but the humidity from the day made it difficult, before unlocking the door.

You stumbled back when the door pushed open from the other side, the yelling, and now, music, filling the small room briefly before the door quickly closed again.

Joel's lips were on yours before you could blink, the heady taste of whiskey on his tongue as he sloppily licked into your mouth. His hands greedily reached down to squeeze your ass, bunching your dress up a bit in the process.

"Joel!" you managed to gasp before his mouth devoured yours again, pushing you back against the sink while your fingers gripped his shirt for balance.

"Fuck, need ya so bad 'n all these people won't fuckin' leave," he slurred, his lips nipping at your jaw. Heat bloomed between your legs at the hungry way he grabbed and kissed you, like he couldn't stop himself.

"You're drunk," you said breathily, tipping your head back.

"So are you," he mumbled, and you couldn't stop the lazy smirk that spread across your face. He had you there.

His hands slid down to lift up the back of your dress, his palms caressing the exposed skin of your ass and your lacy underwear before he squeezed, making you squeak.

"We have guests, Joel," you said as his lips made their way down your neck, his tongue leaving soft licks as he went. He pulled you close, pressing his hips against you so you could feel the hard outline of his cock against your stomach.

"D'ya want me to stop?" he asked, pulling his face back a moment to search your eyes. You stared up at him, panting slightly as you thought about it. His eyes were dark with lust, lips and cheeks flush and hair tousled as he waited for your answer. You shook your head.

"We need to be fast," you whispered, and he pounced on you immediately. His fingers wrapped around your jaw, holding your mouth open so he could plunge his tongue inside, swirling and flicking around yours with a groan.

"Turn 'round," he ordered gruffly while also spinning your body around to face the mirror. You watched his reflection with bated breath as he hiked your dress up and hooked your panties to the side. His ankle nudged yours so you would spread your legs wider, and you could feel the dampness at your core from the excitement. He dipped a finger along your folds while his other hand worked on his belt and jeans, inhaling sharply when he realized how wet you were already. His eyes flicked up to find yours in the mirror and he grinned, stroking his cock.

"Are you going to tease me or fuck me?" you asked, pushing your hips back against him.

"Think you did enough teasin' tonight for the two of us," he said, lining himself up before grabbing your hip. "Walkin' 'round in this dress, with these legs 'n this ass," he let his hand slide from your hip to squeeze your ass again as if to emphasize his point. "Guess that just leaves one thing."

He slammed into you hard with a grunt, knocking the air from your lungs as he buried himself inside you with one quick thrust. You bit down on your lower lip to keep from crying out, only a small whimper escaping while you focused on the delicious sting as you adjusted around him.

"Fuck, that's good," he gasped, looking down where you were connected so he could watch his cock as he shallowly thrusted in and out, giving you a few minutes to acclimate. Your head fell forward between your shoulders with a soft moan, gripping the edge of the sink as he pushed inside you over and over, the room filling with small gasps and groans from you both.

"Right there," you mumbled when he readjusted and found the angle that made you see stars. "Fuck, Joel, don't stop," you said with a whine, squeezing your eyes shut as the top of your head began to bump against the mirror with each snap of his hips.

His hand left your hip and came up to wrap around your hair. He gave it a firm tug and tipped your head back, your eyes flying open in surprise as you met his gaze in the mirror.

"Watch," he ordered, his jaw clenched as he continued to slam into you. "Watch how good you take me, want you to see what I get to see every time I fuck this perfect pussy," he muttered in your ear. You groaned, the filth pouring from his mouth driving you wild, the muscles in your stomach tensing as your orgasm built up.

He nibbled at your earlobe as he stared at you in the mirror, his thrusts coming so fast that your hip bones felt bruised already, but you pushed through it, relishing the idea of having a physical reminder of this moment for the next few days.

"See how lucky I am?" he continued while his other hand traveled down to rub messy circles over your clit, making your jaw fall open. "Look at you, look how wrecked you get from this cock." He wasn't wrong. Your eyes were glassy, either from the alcohol or unshed tears, you weren't sure. Your cheeks were flushed and lips swollen, hair an absolute mess now that Joel's fingers were tangled in it.

"Joel," you whimpered as you felt yourself clenching around him, right on the edge of release.

"I'm right here, I got you, c'mon, give it to me," he said with a grunt, his own climax quickly approaching. You slapped your hand over your mouth to stifle your low, drawn out moan as you came, your arousal soaking his cock and your head falling back on his shoulder.

"That's it, I got you," he whispered in your ear, your orgasm still rippling through you. "Fuck, so pretty when you come," he panted, his hips stuttering before he wrapped his arms around you, tightly holding you against his chest. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he came with a loud groan, your body hardly doing anything to muffle the sound.

With the back of your head still resting on his shoulder, your eyes slid shut, enjoying the afterglow for a few moments while his body shuddered behind you and his grip loosened.

Joel kept his hands on your arms to steady you as he pulled out, a curse leaving his lips in the process. He tucked himself back into his jeans with one hand, then met your eyes in the mirror.

"Can ya stand?" he asked you softly. You nodded and took a deep breath, unrolling some toilet paper to clean up the mess between your legs before fixing your underwear and dress.

You straightened up and looked at him leaning against the bathroom wall, watching you with a smug look on his face.

"You're an animal, you know that?" you said, pressing yourself against him with your chin resting on his chest and your arms around his waist.

"You love it," he replied before cupping your face in his hands and giving you a firm kiss.

The sound of a glass bottle breaking and a collective roar of taunts erupted from your kitchen, pulling you both out of your daze.

"Goddamnit, Tommy," Joel muttered, pushing himself off the wall to open the door. You heard him jokingly berating his brother as you quickly ran your fingers through your hair, making yourself look less fucked before rejoining the festivities.

The sun beamed through your curtains, brightness flashing across your eyelids, contributing more to the pounding already in your head. You buried your face into your pillow, willing the sun or the pain to cease before you were forced to get up for the day. Joel had already left early that morning for patrol, something you thought was cruel considering he was about to leave for the trip Tommy mentioned a few weeks ago during the party the very next day.

With a groan, you pushed yourself up, squinting to minimize the impact from the sun as you stumbled into the bathroom in search of something to numb the pain. Popping two white pills into your mouth, you leaned over the sink to drink from the faucet, swallowing the medicine before splashing your face with cold water, desperate to do anything that might help.

It was your day off from work, but you had promised Maria you would help her with inventory before the men made their trip, so you shoved on your jeans and a clean shirt and made your way downstairs, elated to find Joel had left the coffee machine on for you. You poured the remaining liquid into a thermos so you could take it on the go, hoping the caffeine combined with the Tylenol would diminish the throbbing between your eyes.

By the time you made it to the warehouse, your head seemed to be slightly better, although the ache was still persistent. You must not have been hiding your pain very well because when Maria saw you, she frowned.

"What happened to you?"

"No idea, I woke up with the worst migraine," you said with a groan and flopped down on a nearby chair.

"You trying to get out of helping me?" she teased, and you smirked.

"Me? Never," you replied, and took a tentative sip of coffee, your stomach immediately churning. With a grimace, you set down your drink and leaned forward to rub your temples.

"Did you drink last night?" Maria asked, setting down her clipboard. You shook your head.

"No. Maybe I'm coming down with something," you said with a sigh. "It'll pass. I just need a distraction. Where should I start?"

"How about toiletries? I already did medicine yesterday, and I'm working on dry goods right now," she said, nodding to the other side of the aisle. You stood and picked up the clipboard and pen she left for you and got to work counting shampoo bottles and tubes of toothpaste.

"So, what are you thinking for a dress?" you asked her over your shoulder. "There's that strip mall a few miles out, last I heard it was all clear. There was a little boutique there."

"I haven't even thought about it yet, but that's a good idea. Maybe we can sneak away while the boys are gone and check it out," she said with a grin.

"What's the deal with this new settlement, anyway? Joel said they have some weird name, I can't remember what he called them," you said, cursing under your breath when you saw the amount of toothbrushes you had to count.

"Fireflies," Maria responded. "Yeah, weird name. The way Tommy described them sounded like they were kind of intense, but they have a settlement in an old hospital a few cities away and they supposedly have tons of medicine we could use. Bill's running way too low on antibiotics."

"What was intense about them?" you asked, giving her your full attention now. You didn't like the idea of Joel walking into a potentially hostile situation.

"I guess they are trying to lead some revolution against FEDRA in the QZs. They're looking for weapons and stuff like that to trade," she explained.

"Well, hopefully they need toothbrushes because we have more than enough," you muttered, turning back to your task. "Is it safe?"

"Is anything safe anymore?" Maria replied with a shrug. "He wouldn't risk it if he thought they would get jumped, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, I guess so," you said, getting back to work. As the morning wore on, you listened to Maria talk about the council she was trying to form to lead the town. She had been the leader of Jackson since you joined, and her intention was always to share the duties with others. The town grew so fast and she had a hard enough time keeping up with everything that needed to be done, so the formation of a town council took a backseat the past few years.

"Wanna take a break and eat something?" Maria asked after a few hours. You nodded. Your head was finally beginning to feel better and the thought of food perked you up a bit.

"Did you want to go to the mess hall or just grab something off the shelf here?" she asked, picking up a box of granola bars and examining the label before putting it back on the shelf.

"Let's just stay here, we're on a roll," you told her, putting your clipboard on the shelf to join her at the dry goods section, examining your choices. You decided on a protein bar and some dried fruit, but the moment you bit into the bar, you felt your stomach roll. You paused mid chew, trying to push through the nausea and swallow, but you couldn't do it. Glancing around the room quickly, you spotted a garbage can in the corner and raced over, spitting out your food with a dry heave as you clutched the basket, bracing yourself for another wave of nausea.

"Whoa!" Maria exclaimed, hurrying over to you. You hovered over the garbage, your breath coming in shaky gasps and tears pricking your eyes as you dry heaved again. Maria rubbed comforting circles on your back and scooped your hair out of the way as you caught your breath, the nausea fading to the point where you felt confident enough to sit back against the wall, squeezing your eyes shut.

"You alright?" Maria asked you after a minute, and you weakly nodded your head. "What was that all about?"

"I don't know, I must be getting sick," you said, opening your eyes to accept the bottle of water she handed you. "I've been feeling really run down lately, I probably got the flu."

"In the middle of summer?" she asked you with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged and took a small sip of water.

"Maybe I should go home, I don't want to get you sick," you said, pushing yourself up the wall to stand.

"Sure, go get some rest," Maria said, straightening up. "You just better not be pregnant before me," she added teasingly.

"I'm not pregnant, I just had my period," you said with a shake of your head.

"When?"

You paused for a moment as you thought about it, then your eyes went wide. Maria noticed, her eyes widening, too.

"Oh, my god," you whispered, slumping back down against the wall. "I think I'm late."

"How late?" Maria asked, joining you back on the floor.

"Maybe a week? That's not that bad, though, right?"

"No, it's not that late..." she agreed, trailing off. "Is that normal for you?"

"Not really," you said. "But maybe it's from stress. I've been worried about Joel going on this trip... oh shit, what am I going to tell Joel?" You pushed the heels of your hands roughly into your eyes with a groan.

"Why don't we find you a test first before you worry about that," Maria said, looking around at the shelves. "Did you find any pregnancy tests in the toiletries?"

"No, I think Kate used the last of them, and it's not like it's a high priority item for the guys on patrol," you said, jumping up to nervously pace around the room. "Oh fuck, what am I going to do?!"

Your breathing was getting shallower the more your anxiety flared up. A baby was not something you were sure you ever wanted, let alone right now. Coupled with the insecurities you had been feeling ever since Maria and Tommy got engaged, the timing couldn't have been worse. It wasn't too long ago you were barely able to keep yourself alive and safe, how could you possibly expect to care for a helpless infant? You were fortunate to have found Jackson and the security that brought with it, but if the wrong people found your town, who knows what would happen.

"Why don't I walk you home," Maria said, feeling useless. "You should rest... either way."

The walk home was quick. Luckily, no one had stopped either of you to chat. Maria ushered you inside, sitting you down on the couch before bringing you a glass of water and some crackers from your pantry.

"Let me talk to Tommy when he gets home. I'll see if he can get some tests-" she held her hands up when you whipped your head around to look at her, eyes widened in fear. "I'll say it's for me, I won't mention you, I promise. I'll say I want them on hand for when we start trying, or something."

"If I don't have my period by the time they get back from their trip, I think I'll have my answer, anyway," you said sullenly, burying your face in your hands.

Maria chewed her lip and nodded, knowing you were probably right. She resumed rubbing circles on your back as you leaned forward with your head between your knees, your head clouded with fear.

"I have to tell Joel," you whispered, a tear trickling down your cheek. "He'll know something's wrong, I-I can't keep this from him."

"Tommy can do the trip without Joel, this is more important," said Maria.

"Yeah," you mumbled, leaning back and staring at your hands twisted together in your lap. How could you be so stupid?

"Do you think you'll be okay, or do you want me to stay?" she asked you, worry written all over her face. You shook your head and offered her a weak smile.

"I'll be fine, I know you have a lot to do and I just bailed on you," you said, patting her arm. She stood up, looking down at you, putting a hand on your shoulder before leaving.

"You know, you really went too far to get out of work this time," she joked, earning a huff of laughter from you. "But listen. It'll be okay, no matter what happens. We will all help you guys out, if... you know. You won't be in this alone." She gave you a reassuring squeeze, and you smiled, putting your hand warmly over the top of hers.

"Thanks, Maria," you whispered. She nodded before dropping her hand, and you watched her walk out the front door, leaving you all alone, wondering how exactly you were going to tell Joel.

You remained frozen to the couch the rest of the afternoon, nibbling on crackers and your mind going a mile a minute, dreading the moment Joel would walk through the front door. Maybe it's a false alarm. Maybe you miscounted the days. You wondered if you should even tell him until you were sure, but you knew he would see right through you the second he got home.

Your heart jumped in your throat when you finally heard the front door swing open, squeezing your eyes shut to focus on your breathing as you heard him take off his boots and say your name.

"In here," you called out, forcing your eyes open and plastering a weak smile on your face as you stood to greet him.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said when he saw you, pulling you into his arms and planting a kiss on the top of your head.

"How was patrol?" you asked, stepping away and averting your gaze out the window.

"Long. I could kill Tommy for puttin' me on the schedule before this trip," he said, reaching down to the coffee table to grab your sleeve of abandoned crackers and tossing one in his mouth. "You and Maria wrap up early?" he asked with his mouth full. He turned to head towards the kitchen for a glass, filling it up at the sink as you remained planted in the living room, your fingers nervously fidgeting at your sides.

"Yeah," you said quietly. "Maria finished up without me."

He glanced over at you as he drank his water in one gulp, then wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand before sauntering back over.

"Good. Was thinkin' we can stay in tonight," he said as he wrapped his arms around you. "Gonna miss you," he added suggestively, his lips brushing against your temple before craning his neck lower to latch his mouth onto yours. He paused, sensing your tension for the first time, and drew back to examine you closer.

"What's wrong?" he asked, holding you at an arms length by your shoulders. You brought your hands up to cover his and took a shaky breath.

"I think you should sit down," you began. All the air rushed out of his lungs, panic squeezing his throat as his grip on your shoulders tightened.

"Why?" he asked as he fell back onto the sofa. His eyes never left yours as he waited, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. You sat down next to him and stared down at your hands, thinking about how to say it before deciding on just blurting it out.

"I'm late," you said, still avoiding his stare. There was a long pause before he replied.

"Late for what?" he asked, sounding confused. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a breath.

"My period, Joel," you said softly. You felt his body tense next to you, but you kept your eyes shut. "I... I don't know for sure, I couldn't find a test at the warehouse, but I thought you should know."

You could hear him breathing deeply next to you as he absorbed your words, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him as you continued to explain.

"I haven't been feeling very well lately, I thought I was getting sick but then I realized... I don't know, it might be nothing," you rambled, your voice jumping up an octave as tears filled your closed eyes. "But it might be something, too, and I feel so fucking stupid and scared-"

"Hey," he said softly, finally finding his voice as he put a hand on your knee. "C'mon, look at me," he urged, hooking a finger under your chin and turning your face towards him.

You opened your eyes, two tears falling in the process as you reluctantly looked at him. His gaze softened as he stared at you, wiping away your tears.

"We've always been careful, I don't..." he trailed off as he thought about it before the realization dawned on him. "The party," he said, his voice heavy as his hands dropped from your face and he hung his head. "Fuck."

"Yeah," you said softly, letting your eyes fall back to your lap. You leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees so you could bury your face in your hands. "I don't know what to do, Joel. I can't do this," you mumbled, trying to fight back the tears.

He sighed and leaned back into the couch, scratching his beard thoughtfully for a second.

"Well, it's a little ahead of schedule, but if you are, we'll handle it like we do everythin' else," he replied. Now that the shock was wearing off, he was starting to come around to the idea, flashes of piggyback rides and first steps playing in his mind.

"'Ahead of schedule'?" you repeated sharply, dropping your hands to frown at him.

"Yeah. I mean, I figured one day after we got married-"

"Wait, what?" you asked, your voice rising as you stood up from the couch. "We never discussed any of this, Joel."

His brow furrowed, standing up as well and looking at you with confusion.

"Then let's discuss it now," he said, watching as you paced around the room.

You stopped pacing and stood across from him, eyeing him carefully as you crossed your arms.

"Do you really think it's responsible to bring a child into this world?" you asked him, your voice barely a whisper. He stared at you, his jaw ticking to the side as he thought about his answer.

"Probably not. But I don't think it's right to keep ourselves from bein' happy, either," he said with a shrug. "Gotta keep livin' our lives."

You searched his eyes for a moment as the weight of his words hit you. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself for your next question.

"So, what you're saying is getting married and having kids would make you happy?"

"'Course it would," he replied easily without a second thought. He frowned when he noticed the anguish flit across your face, and suddenly he realized there was a bigger problem. He swallowed roughly. "But it sounds like it wouldn't make you happy."

Tears welled up in your eyes. You tore your gaze away, unable to handle the hurt that was so clearly evident on his face.

"I'm happy the way things are," you said, your voice small. "I don't think I'm ready for... all that."

He nodded, clenching his jaw as he tried to keep the emotion from his voice.

"But one day?" he managed to ask, his throat suddenly feeling tight, worried about the answer.

"I-," you began to respond, then faltered, trying to find the right words. "I don't know, Joel," you finally said, your eyes glued to the floor as shame flooded your body.

He sniffed and put his hands on his hips, turning away from you to try to hide his pain, but it was palpable. The room was filled with tension and unspoken words. You couldn't believe you were breaking his heart like this. Closing your eyes, you wished more than anything you felt normal, that you wanted what he wanted, but you couldn't force it. You took a shaky breath before speaking again.

"I'm sorry, Joel. You don't deserve this, I'm fucked up," you whispered. "If those are things that would make you happy, you shouldn't have to sacrifice-"

"Don't you dare finish that fuckin' sentence," he said, and although his back was to you, you could tell his teeth were clenched as he spoke. You clamped your mouth shut, tears silently spilling down your cheeks.

"Joel-" you tried again, but he cut you off, whipping around to face you, his eyes glassy and his brow furrowed.

"You might be pregnant with my kid and this is how you tell me how you really feel?" he spat, his harshness making you recoil.

"I love you," you sobbed, wrapping your arms around yourself, tears flowing freely now.

"Not enough to wanna marry me, though," he said, and you weren't sure what hurt more: the words or the sadness that laced his voice.

"That's not fair," you whispered, tucking your chin into your chest.

"You're right. None of this is fair," he said, turning on his heel and heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" you asked, taking a few steps forward so you could watch him walk down the hall.

"Out," he said curtly, and you winced. He paused with his hand on the door and dropped his head forward with a sigh. "I gotta think," he added softly without turning to look at you, then disappeared through the door, leaving you to collapse on the ground all alone in a hell of your own making.

You curled up on the couch that night waiting for him to come home, but fell asleep and didn't hear the door open or his feet on the stairs. You didn't wake until you heard the shower early the next morning. Sitting up from the couch, you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes when you felt the familiar, telltale cramping in your stomach. After going to the bathroom, you confirmed your suspicions.

You sat at the kitchen table until Joel came down the stairs, trying to be quiet until he realized you were already awake and waiting for him. He paused when he saw you at the table, but quickly averted his gaze to the cupboard to find his thermos.

"I'm not pregnant," you said quietly. His shoulders tensed for a moment, then lifted the coffee pot, pouring it into the tumbler before turning around to face you.

"You must be relieved," he said coldly. Your lower lip trembled and you stood up from the table to go to him, but he stepped away, creating more distance.

"I'll be back in a few days," he said, casting you a somber glance before turning towards the door.

You stood there, your hands tangling together in front of you, unsure what to do or say to fix this pain you caused. He stopped in front of the door, about to leave, but turned back one more time to look at you.

"Just tell me right now if you don't want me," he said, the expression on his face breaking your heart.

"I want you," you said immediately, and you swore you saw a flicker of relief in his eyes at how fast you responded. "I love you, Joel. So much. And I'm so sorry."

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes searching your puffy, tear stained face before giving you a firm nod, then turned to leave, closing the door softly behind him.

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tteokdoroki · 4 months

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THE PERFECT SHADE OF PURPLE - suguru geto.

✩ — about. “i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.” suguru geto never thought he’d end up here. in a new city with a new job and a new life. he never wanted to lose his little sister to his best friend. he never wanted to replace her. never wanted to fuck someone who looked exactly like her. but here you are, and geto can’t help but want you the same way he wants her. he just had to get that off his chest… ( 11.4K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! dark content, nsfw, smut, hurt-comfot, open ending - video banner ! AITA-verse!au (read part one here !), bakery!au, italics mean the characters are speaking in japanse, situationships, co-dependency ( on suguru geto ), manipulation, gaslighting, praise, use of oni-chan/nii chan/imouto, fingering (f!receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, creampies, bilingual!geto, japanese speaking + fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hehe hi everyone!!! pls im reposting this again :( it was written as a gift for @todorosie and the very idea spawned from her love for geto in my AITA gojo fic !! it’s sort of a continuation and set in the same universe so you might need to read to understand the plot. special thanks to @antizenin for beta reading n helping me come up with some ideas !! enjoy guys, mwah mwah - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

look, i know it’s bad… but my adopted sister and i were always close. she looked up to me and needed me for everything, up until a month ago when she betrayed my trust and fucked my childhood best friend. i got a therapist, went low contact and moved to a completely different country in order to avoid w everything. but nothing helped, i think of my sister every day and sometimes… i picture bad, dirty things. recently i met this girl, she’s the spitting image of my adoptive little sister. they look the same, act the same — i think i’ve started falling for her. i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.

TLDR: i’m fucking and have feelings for a girl that’s a carbon copy of my adopted younger sibling.

the city of new york is meant to be the city of dreams.

at any given moment, your fate can change. anything can happen here, you can make it big and live out your life or you can go home and lead one of regret. suguru geto feels like neither are true for him. the bustling city and flashing lights, busy concrete streets and honking taxis bring the dark haired man anything but joy. suguru isn’t happy here, in new york, despite all the wonders that it holds — irregardless of the grand job opportunity he has waiting for him just around the corner.

suguru geto had the chance of a lifetime to develop his career as a criminal defence lawyer in one of the most opportune cities in the world. his dream since he was old enough to understand the wrongs of the world.

but that’s merely not enough to keep him content, to make him want to stay.

he doesn’t want to go home either, he’s sure he would hate himself for thattoo. it would be a waste of suguru’s talents to return to japan prematurely, with its nauseating air and sense of betrayal that follows him everywhere he goes. home is supposed to be where one is happiest and safest — it’s where his family is, where he was raised and first opened his eyes. but for the lawyer, japan no longer serves to comfort him and only constantly reminds the man of his little sister, who’d fucked his best friend just a month prior.

that very instance was enough reason for him to leave the country in the first place — he had to get out, had to escape the very fact that haunted him day and night.

like any other adult with a shit load of trauma, suguru invests in the best therapist his money can buy — especially now that he can’t spoil is younger sister with it. the older woman with her stuffy office, beady eyes and chipped painted nails had prescribed the man with a short break, a change of pace from the life he was used to, to give himself the grace and time to heal from the heartbreak of losing the two most important people in his life. his best friend, satoru gojo, and his adoptive little sister.

he had no idea where gojo was now, thirty days later, and suguru knew his little sister had probably moved out of their hometown by now to kick start her career. so even if all of that meant that suguru geto could go home…he wouldn’t. he would use the vastness of new york to give himself the breathing room he needed to heal, fill his bloodstream with fresh oxygen so that it would clot and cover up his fresh wounds of betrayal, turn scabs into scars and let him slowly recover.

at least that’s what his therapist had told him to do — in the suffocating purple walls of her office.

yet, so far, suguru’s escape to new york hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. every corner of the city painfully reminds him of the hole in his heart, where his innocent little sister should be. after her graduation he’d planned on taking her here as a reward for all of her hard work, but now, suguru faces his own bitter reality — every landmark has her face etched into its side, skyscrapers and their glass windows refract the light of her smile, while famous dinner spots tie to the endless list of reservations she’d reminded suguru to make. hell, even his daily routine of hailing infamous yellow taxi cabs reminds him of her precious excitement to go.

new york was a city big enough for both geto siblings, but too large for just the one.

it’s a wonder that suguru has been able to live without his sister for this long — it’s only been a month but he’s spent his entire life looking out for her. protecting her. he hardly knows what to do with himself now that he has all this extra time.

suguru knew that she was way too dependent on him, it was bad — he was painfully aware of that. but he couldn’t help it, she needed someone to protect her and nurture her, she needed someone to teach her about the dangers of the world. she needed her big brother. perhaps if the dark haired man had been less protective of his sister and given her some sort of independence… then maybe he wouldn’t miss her so much, he wouldn’t have lost his best friend as collateral damage in the process. he would still have the two of them, and she could be happy with gojo.

the guilt of what ifs and what could have beens tirelessly weigh down suguru’s heart at the thought — he caused this. this rift between the soul-bonded pair. if he had raised her better, let her spread her wings like a free bird, then he would still have her in his life.

at this point, he’s realised something dire. suguru can’t live without her, his little sister. her bright eyes in the morning and the sweet tune to her voice when she calls out for him — it’s weird, it’s bad…how much he misses and needs her. borderlining on strange, it’s only now that suguru realises how unhealthy their dynamic as siblings had been. how reliant he was on his baby sister to need him. it should have never been that way, he shouldn’t need her so desperately to function. keeping her under such a close watch was probably what drove her into the arms of satoru in the first place.

the concrete wilderness of suguru’s new home provides no relief from these epiphanies and the chambers of his heart that slowly seem to be dying without his sister. instead he feels trapped in his own addiction, as if he’s going through the withdrawal after dependency on drugs.

whenever suguru feels immense waves of guilt, like a tsunami that might pull him under and replace the clean air in his lungs with the murky water of his own sour thoughts and emotions; whenever he misses home a little too much; whenever he feels like the world his crashing down on him once more — his therapist and her purple nails tapping against her clip board comes to mind. she tells suguru to take a walk, especially when he’s overcome with thoughts of the situation back in december. when his chest feels too tight and feels like picking up the phone and calling his sister before he’s ready to.

so geto does just that, lugging on his winter coat as he prepares to take a walk downtown while the sun sets.

suguru tends to think that his therapist is full of shit.

she believes in the colour purple, she believes that there is purpose and meaning in concepts like colours that are based on fact and science. the light reflects, and people see colour.

as she had explained to the man in an hour long session just two weeks ago, purple is supposed to be the colour of healing; though to suguru, purple makes him feel sick. it’s everywhere, in the lavander-ish off-white walls of his new york-rented apartment, the flowers in the stalls on his way to work, the skies at night. suguru thought he was a rational man, that he was calm and collected — able to see the reasons behind everything he comes across…but he still doesn’t understand the significance of colours like purple and its connection to healing.

all suguru knows is that he did like the pretty hollow shade that formed a ring around satoru’s bright blue eyes. of course, after having the shit beaten out of him for touching what belonged to suguru. for corrupting his innocent baby sister.

aside from that, tonight’s walk is mostly uneventful, full of couples getting ready for date night and business people heading home to their happy families for the night. suguru despises them, strangers on the street minding their own business. he hates these passer-bys for their happiness, a joy he can no longer experience. going home. it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

he misses his family. the warmth and love from his mother, the poor jokes from his father… the looks of adoration and hugs from his sister. it’s not fair. he shouldn’t have had to give that up because of the selfish actions of his ex-best friend.

suguru decides to turn back and head for his apartment when the street lamps start to flicker and turn on.

however, on his commute, a familiar scent tickles his senses and brushes over his nose. the man finds himself following, enchanted by rich flavours that he recognises from his youth — sweet red bean and spicy curries overlay the city’s natural smells and suguru makes an attempt to track it down. like a fool, he sprints after the scent like a hound dog tracking a hunt and stops a few strides short of a quaint japanese bakery with a set of deep indigo flowers climbing up it’s worn down exterior.

suguru recognises the flowers to be shobu. irises.

standing before the sliding doors, geto inhales, overwhelmed and overcome with emotion. the sweet smell triggers memories of home and how his parents would take him and his sister out to get treats when they were small. how that became a tradition for the geto siblings when they were old enough to go out on their own.

he remembers how his sister would beg him for a box of sakura mochi every time they went, and how he would so easily relent — even if it meant spending all of that week’s pocket money. suguru is so carried away with his thoughts that he hardly notices himself taking steps into the bakery, or lining up at the counter, or you.

calling him up to the counter.

you’re a pretty girl. that’s the first thing suguru notices. your eyes are beautiful, a deep brown that reminds him of roasted chestnuts and warm chocolates, your face is round with a soft edge of youth. the uniform that you wear hugs every dip and curve of your body and the braids you have are lengthy and black, perfectly framing your face. when you speak, your voice carries gentle dulcet notes that make suguru’s heart flutter — like music to his ears.

you are one thousand percent suguru geto’s type and everything about you, this little bakery attendant, reminds suguru of his younger sister.

right then and there, everything clicks into place for him.

“sir, can i get you anything?” you ask him kindly, not wanting to push or scare away a potential customer. nor pressure the handsome stranger, since he’s holding up your line. “sir?” you repeat, finally garnering his attention after squirming under his intense stare.

not that you mind being stared at by him, for this particular customer is right up your alley.

from his milky skin, desperate to be marked, to his lengthy dark tresses that you’re dying to pull at and tug. his jaw is angular, sharp enough to the point where you fear you would cut yourself should you have the chance to touch it. despite the razor edges to his features, he looks kind…almost wistful, at most. a quality that does nothing to calm the hungry flame catching light in your lower tummy.

the two of you remain admiring one another until a customer in the queue clears their throat impatiently — causing both of you to jump.

“s-sorry,” geto mumbles the apology quickly, his pale cheeks tinged with a subtle pink despite how hot they feel. he’s suddenly become all too aware of the line that he’s holding up. one that he’s not even supposed to be in, since he’d walked in here on instinct anyway. his dark, narrow eyes sweep the counter in search for something, anything to order so that he doesn’t look like a complete idiot in front of you or the rest of the customers.

more specifically, yourself.

“i would recommend the sakura mochi,” then, like an angel sent from the heavens, you try your luck in conversing with suguru in japanese. his nervous and skittish gaze shoots up to your face, shoulders sagging in relief and familiarity. you truly are like a piece of home. like his little sister. suguru likes that more than a normal man should. “they’re popular amongst our customers, it’s taken our owner years to perfect her recipe with the ingredients here. especially since leaving japan.”

suguru grins and nods, spotting the dessert he’s so accustomed to buying in the display cabinet. his heart lurches, yearning for his little sister. “these?” he whispers to you, the syllables of his native language curling around his tongue naturally. “they look just like the ones from home.”

there’s a sparkle in your eyes when he responds, and you continue to speak to him in sugary tones. “they taste just as goodtoo, i promise!”

“then, i’ll take a box.”

“how many? they come in boxes of four, eight and sixteen pieces.”

“just the four, please.”

taking your tongs from the metal counter behind the cabinet, you fish out four of the best pieces of sakura mochi and tentatively place them into a pre-folded cardboard box for the handsome customer. as he dives deep into his pocket for his card to pay, you quickly add an extra piece — uttering something about it being on the house under your breath.

the action leaves both of you bashful and suguru taps his card on the machine you’ve set up for him to pay. “ah, thank you…” suguru searches for your name in the candy scented air and you tap your badge with a cute acrylic nail to draw attention to your name which he breathes out in a husky tone, failing to mask its curious lilt as he returns to english.

“no worries, have a good evening, sir.” you giggle shyly, still managing to bid him farewell.

on his way home, suguru can’t help but to replay the entire interaction in his head over and over again. in his brief three minutes of meeting you, you’d managed to fix the hole in his heart, help it beat properly again. you’re just like her, his little sister, and that is a dangerous fact.

he reaches his apartment with a flushed face, feeling a little flustered, but a lot better than he was before the start of his walk.

after work, a few days later, geto finds himself back in front of the bakery, working up the courage to go inside and see you.

no matter how hard he tried and how much of his work he tried to throw himself into — suguru couldn’t get the vision of you out his head. your saccharine laugh haunted him as he reviewed case files, your timid smile chased him through his lunch break and your small act of kindness (speaking with him in Japanese) has him all worked up and blushing by the time he’s able to clock out for the day.

the dark haired man feels insane, he knows that this is weird — projecting the image of his adoptive sister onto you, but like a man on drugs he can’t seem to quit. he needs to get his fix. he needs to see you again. entering the bakery once again is like stepping into a new domain, and suguru damn near forgets his simple plan to talk to you. order sakura mochi, say thank you, and leave. while he waits in the queue, his courage mounts in slow stacks and anxiety fades, but by the time he’s up front and face to face with you again — suguru’s brain is completely wiped of every word he was going to say.

“ah, it’s you again!” you greet him in japanese once more, instinctively reaching to brush your braids out of your face in order to look more presentable to the handsome stranger who’s been plaguing your thoughts as well. suguru thinks you’re cute, regardless of the rice flour smeared across your cheeks and the various mysterious (though surely tasty) stains that decorate your uniform. he even finds it endearing, the way that you share the same nervous gesture of playing with the ends of your braids like his little sister. “i was just wondering when you were going to come in from the… mmm, cold? you’ve been standing and… uh! staring from out there for a while.” you continue to tease the man warmly in his native tongue, choosing your words carefully and avoiding eye contact with him while you prep the tongs for his order. “what can i get for you today?”

so much for not humiliating himself in front of the pretty girl. “i’m sorry… i’ll just take some sakura mochi again,” suguru begins, this time in english to spare you the trouble of overthinking everything that you say. “i was trying to figure out how to do this,” he places a wad of cash on the counter while you prepare his order. your chocolatey eyes blow wide, sweet glazed lips parting softly at the mere sight. you’re sure there’s enough money in the stack to cover an entire week’s worth of your wages and if a stranger can just give away such a large amount… it makes you wonder what he’s even doing at a humble place like this. “it’s a tip from last time. i never got to thank you.”

“oh… i was just doing my job!” you stammer out politely and prepare to reject the tip, but suguru refuses to let you refuse his gift — forcefully pushing the ‘tip’ over the edge of the glass. he really couldn’t help but to give the money to you, hardly fighting the urge to spoil you with cash like he would with his little sister. besides, the man earned more than enough to drop it on you without putting a dent in his pocket.

“you did more than that… just the simple act of kindness in conversing with me, a stranger, in japanese. that was nice of you.” suguru counters. “thank you. how did you know?”

you work on preparing a thin and white cardboard box for his order before walking along the dessert counter, followed by you. “i had a feeling, a lot of people come in here when they’re missing something,” he frowns and your eyes finally meet his. “someone.” you breathe out, quietly. “i took a guess, figured you might have been from japan.”

“well, you were correct…”

your heart skips a beat at the sound of your name on his tongue as he says it. it’s so gentle it makes you feel faint and you’re absolutely charmed by a man you hardly know. “does that earn me brownie points…?” you trail off, wanting to capture his name.

“suguru.”

“ah, suguru meaning…” giving the man a once over, you drink in his tall frame and dark eyes, the small quirk to his plush lips as he smiles at you… and think. he’s the perfect man in every way, soft spoken and clement, even if he did have flaws or a dark secret — you would definitely choose to ignore it in favour of spending more time with him. once you find the word you’re looking for (and snap out of staring at the poor guy) you speak again. “excellence…it suits you.”

geto chuckles quietly in response, amused by your take away. “your name suits you too, darling. it’s just as beautiful as you.”

when you giggle and grow shy at his compliment — the honeyed melody only serves to remind suguru of his little sister once more. in that moment, he feels something bad and almost wretched stir in his gut just from watching you turn bashful over him. a dark thought in the back of his kind tells him to keep you, so that he can see you like this more often. it urges him to make you need him. like he would have with his little sister.

he’s starting to project, he’s sure, but you make it easy for him, with your puppy dog eyes and tiny little smiles. once geto’s order is packed, four little squares of sakura mochi wrapped in emerald green and brined sakura leaf — smelling of spring and red bean, he pays (with a hefty tip) and inspects the box. “you’ve got to stop giving me things for free, darling. we’ve only just met.” he chides fondly, scolding you like a child as if to make sure you won’t get in trouble with your job. he’s counted five mochi instead of four — just like last time. “won’t this hurt business?” he coos down at you — sending your body into a fit of shivers despite the warmth of your uniform.

“well, i’d consider us friends now that you’ve come specifically to see me. friends can’t give each other gifts?” you quip cheekily — much like suguru’s sister would. “you got to spoil me today, no one is going to notice an extra piece of mochi going missing.”

“friends it is,” surugu purrs right back in satisfaction, preparing to take his leave. cautiously, as though not to spook you like a hunter after a deer in the woods — he reaches over the counter to pat your head affectionately, internally pleased with the way you keen into his touch. “i hope to see my new friend around more often, then.” he hums with pride, and you nod your head eagerly.

like a puppy. like you want to please him.

it reminds geto all too much of his little sister — who only ever wanted to make the dark haired man proud.

over the coming weeks, suguru finds himself at the bakery more often than not. as though it’s a part of his daily routine.

he’ll take his walk after work, stop by and purchase some sakura mochi, before leaving you with another little gift. at first, his gifts started out as wads of cash in place of tips, then slowly turned to more materialistic things, items that you could hood or wear as if they were to geto’s his claim on you. like flowers, jewellery or clothes. things you couldn’t afford on your own, things he’d like to see you in, things his little sister would like to receive if they were still in contact with one another.

suguru knows that you can’t afford these things because you’ve let it slip over coffee and mochi that you rent the apartment above the bakery from the old woman who owns it and can barely afford the new york rent as well. he also learns that you were hired because of your ability to speak, read and write in Japanese.

as much as suguru has spoiled you in the last few weeks, you won’t let him pay your rent though, so tips have sufficed for now.

nowadays, the time spent moping around his apartment while mourning the relationships that he lost are spent growing increasingly obsessive over you. hours upon hours are wasted on thoughts of what gift he might buy you next — like more comfortable work shoes, an umbrella to get you home safe during the rain that just so happens to be designer. suguru spoils you under the guise of just being your friend — at least that’s what it is to you.

to him, he’s spoiling his baby sister. someone who is feeble and needs his help and his protection. he doesn’t tell his therapist any of this, of course, she would deem it unhealthy to see how much of his money and time he’s blown in a little cafe worker.

a cafe worker who’s important to suguru, who haunts his dreams with her perfect curves, and pouty lips whenever he brings you a small gift of his affections. “sugu,” you’ve resorted to calling him, just like his sister would. the nickname was the result of a time where you’d written his name on a coffee order, and customers complained you were taking too long. so geto had told you that you could call him ‘sugu’ instead. however, he would omit details on how badly it affected his brain chemistry …to hear someone he cared for call him that again. “you don’t have to get me an expensive gift just because i make you coffee and get you sweet treats.”

“it’s not just because you get me sweet things or make me coffee,” he had responded, leaning over the counter flirtatiously. “it’s because you do such a good job. you take care of me and my order every evening. make sure i get the best of the best. how could i not thank my sweet little barista.”

you wouldn’t say it, but he knew you liked the praise. he wondered if you felt as dirty and as thrilled as him during these little exchanges between the two of you. on that specific occasion, geto decided to gift you with a pendant, similar to the one he’d gotten his sister — only this time, a purple amethyst sits in its centre rather than the blue gem all too familiar to satoru gojo’s piercing eyes.

maybe this is what his therapist meant by healing. suguru is healing by getting over his sister and replacing her with you.

you are the one that haunts his dreams now, makes his cock stir inappropriately. another thing that suguru woulda never tell his therapist — is that sometimes when he really needed it, he would think of his little sister while fisting his cock into the night air. they weren’t really related, only by adoption so it wasn’t too wrong. sometimes he’d think of her getting railed by satoru, but nowadays he would think of you on his cock instead, calling out for suguru like you need him to function.

‘nii-san!’ - this and ‘please sugu! ’- that, each word uttered in his sister’s voice would quickly morph into yours — the quivering sweet sound always resembling his little sister’s when she cried. suguru, the dark haired man, imagined you would react the same. and more often than not, it was your face that he pictured when he was about to cum.

every single gift suguru got for you were the result of him dreaming about how much he needed you, someone to spoil and protect. someone to need him.

tonight, suguru is a little late for his daily visit to your bakery.

tonight, an important case at his firm had rolled in at the last minute and required attention before a preliminary hearing — but even his job couldn’t keep suguru geto away from you. when he arrives at the bakery, you’re still there, having left the doors unlocked for him to come inside.

tonight, there is no long line of customers out the door to build up the anticipation between you both, the lights have already been deemed and there’s not a trace of life inside of the bakery. aside from yourself, of course.

tonight, you’re on the closing shift instead of the owner’s grandson, choso. who you reassured suguru you weren’t interested in the first time they’d met. with gentle eyes that masked the dark haired man’s fury, geto had told you that he was the only man you’d ever need and you believed him — suguru had a charm for making people dependent on him.

the tiny silver bell stationed at the door jingles and signals geto’s arrival, but you hardly look up from your work — keeping your back to him while you sweep at nothing. you’re hiding the excitement that prickles down your spine, you’ve been waiting to get the man alone for weeks and now that you’re able to… you can hardly contain yourself.

“excuse me, uh…” he says your name so sweetly, as though the words on his tongue are laced with honey. pretending not to know you only makes tonight more thrilling. “are you open? do you have any sakura mochi to spare?” it’s only then that you whirl around to face suguru, your deep brown eyes still bright despite the dimness of the empty bakery — they sparkle with elation, and the plump curve of your lips spike up into an easy smile. you’ve been waiting, suguru notes, like a good little girl.

like a puppy waiting for her owner.

you’ve been waiting to see him.

anticipation claws at the air, sending ripples of kinetic energy into the space between you both — where suguru waits at the door and you stand front and centre in the middle of the room. his murky eyes slink down to your neck where one hand fiddles with the silver chain of your pendant, your nails tapping at the amethyst in its centre. in the same way his sister does when she’s nervous.

neither of you know what’s going to happen tonight, now that you’re finally alone.

“we have some in the back,” you swallow down the heartbeat in your throat you nod shyly when you finally speak. it’s weird how your body has started to react to suguru after weeks of getting to know him, being spoiled by him. the clothes you wear are now covered in traces of him, the jewellery you own is paid for by his dime. this…stranger, who you hardly know yet feel like you know everything about, has invaded every inch of your life… and you’re not even mad about it. you’d rather die than let this go. “i just need to lock up first. if you’ll give me a moment.”

you approach him cautiously, practically pressing your breasts against his chest as you reach behind the man to lock the doors he stands in front of. suguru can already tell that the mood today is different — full of hunger and expectations for something less polite than evening chatter and gift exchanges. his dark eyes follow your every move across the bakery like a wolf tracking the scent of prey.

“why don’t you come with me to the back? and if you don’t mind, could you carry a bag or two of that rice flour? it’s too heavy for me on my own?” you ask him after backing away with a glint in your eye. naughty, naughty. geto likes the fact that you’re asking him, that you need him and he can be your strong suguru.

“sure, anything for you.” he agrees a little bit too quickly, removing his work jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. suguru discards his tie as well — before lifting a sack of rice flower with ease. he pretends not to notice the way you ogle the bulge in his biceps as he does so.

“thanks.” you utter, leading the way to the back of the bakery.

once the two of you arrive in the kitchens at the back, you give suguru some time to set down the sacks of flour and retreat to the many shelves of sweet treats and baked goods that you’d prepared for your shift the next day. you’re sure choso, nor his grandmother, would mind if you stole a plate of mochi for the two of you to share. they trusted you enough, but you decide to forgo telling them for now.

“i was starting to think you weren’t coming.” you say as you set the desserts out on the metal table for him, suguru hates the guilt that he feels for leaving you for so long. “seeing you is the highlight of my week.”

“are you sure it’s not the gifts that i give you?” he teases, rounding the table to take a piece of mochi from the plate at its middle. he practically moans at the flavours of cherry blossom and crystallised sugar bursting across the palette of his tongue. and for a moment, his mind slips to other territories — wandering what you’d taste like as well.

“n-no! sugu!” for the first time that night, you break character, bashfully tucking your pretty face into your shoulder as if to hide it. “i, um… i genuinely like seeing you and when you come to see me. i-it makes me feel better. being around you. i feel safer and happier.”

putting his weight onto the metal surface, suguru leans forward and cocks his head to the side in faux curiosity. your answer is just what he wanted to hear. he finally has you where he wants you, like a sweet deer in a hunter’s trap. “is that so, darling?” you shake your head yes in affirmation. “well then, you’re awfully sweet.” geto takes to praising you, licking the traces of candy from his lips and maintaining eye contact while his hand dips into the pocket of his slacks for something. “i have a gift for you, little one.”

“oh yeah?” youtoo, take a bite out of the treats you’ve laid out, munching on them casually while keeping suguru under your watchful eye.

it’s only then that pulls out a matching item of jewellery, this time, a matching anklet to the item that sits heavy at your neck. the silver chain is dotted with tinier, purple gems. a showcase of suguru’s appreciation for how much you’ve healed him — a nod to how much better he feels around you too.

“you sure do love purple for me, sugu.” you joke, laughing incredulously at the expensive gift. “it’s beautiful, thank you.” you let him circle the table to take hold of your soft hips, lifting you onto the cool surface so that geto has some leverage to put the anklet on you.

after kicking out your left foot — suguru sinks to his knees before you, and something about the way he looks up at you, with his eyebrows drawn to the centre of his forehead and his milky cheeks slightly flushed, has your heart racing and your head all dizzy. “purple is supposed to mean healing. i’ve had a tough time, being away from japan and my family…” he begins quietly, his voice is calming with lilts and drops of hunger that slips through the cracks of suguru’s caring resolve. “but you’ve made it better,” one of his large hands encircles your ankle, lifting your foot higher so that geto is easily able to remove the strap of your mary-jane shoe and replace it with the chains of your new anklet. “ah… a perfect fit.” he announces in japanese, fixing the clasp.

the whole ordeal is intimate, inviting and you feel like you might slip under the surface of dark, dangerous waters if you’re not careful. you don’t know how to swim, but something tells you that suguru will keep you afloat. “anyways, little one…” suguru continues with his monologue, whispering his words against your talus bone at the base of your leg, where it meets your foot. “you wanting me here and needing me… it heals me.”

once he’s checked that the anklet is secure, suguru reaches a hand upwards, and brushes a thumb over the swell of your glossy bottom lip to swipe away a smudge of powdered sugar from the mocha. you will yourself to speak, but you feel as though you can’t even breathe. “i’ve…healed you?”

suguru stands up, towering over you now as he moves to suck the sugar from your lips off of his thumb. “of course, little one. what else do you think you’ve been doing this whole time?” his pupils dilate, obsidian black drowning out any other colour in his eyes while closes the gap between your heated bodies. your thighs instinctively jump apart to make room for him too, allowing him to loom over you even better — following the biological call of your hearts.

the world comes to a standstill when suguru’s lips finally meet yours in a sloppy yet coordinated kiss. while his movements are messy and hungry he remains gentle with you, as though you might break from too much force. the sweltering heat of his tongue swipes eagerly but not aggressively over the seam of your mouth, dying to be let in and taste the sugar that glazes your own pink muscle. his large, unusually soft hands grasp, and squeeze and pinch at your thighs, then the fat at your hips until his thumbs are tucked under your breasts, soothing circles over the point at which the fleshy mounds join up with your rib cage.

goosebumps break out across your skin from underneath your clothes and you feed suguru a needy little squeak when he finally breaks into your mouth, his tongue lapping circles at every crevice. you sound just like her, his angelic little sister, and he treats you so gently because he would never want to hurt her. suguru has always wanted to kiss his sister, but you’ll have to do. he likes you just as much as her.

it’s that sick and twisted desire to devour his younger sibling that fuels his next movements, along with the dulcet and darling sounds you make for him. carefully and between sticky lip locks, suguru pushes you onto your back — humming in amusement when it arches away from the cool metal of the silver counter. “s-sugu,” you whimper wetly, catching your breath while his smooches cascade down to your neck and his fingers work their way through the buttons on your uniform. your own take residence in his firm and broad set shoulders, as if to steady yourself. “i haven’t… i don’t have much experience with these things a-and they’ve not been the best—“

the dark haired man chuckles softly, the sound sending a spark of lust down your spine and causing you to arch up into him as he cages you against the table. “i’ll be gentle,” he tells you firmly, in a tone that smooths over the doubts in your mind and helps you to relax. suguru will take care of everything. “you don’t have to worry. i want this to be all about you feeling good, okay?” you nod in reply and suguru sucks his teeth. “i want a verbal answer, little one.”

“yes, sugu…”

he places a chaste kiss to your collarbones then, a pleased hum vibrating against your temperate skin. “good girl.”

the next few moments are a blur as suguru geto strips you down, kissing every inch of your exposed body with each article of clothing he removes from your shaky frame. all that he leaves you with are your soiled panties after reaching around the curve of your spine to unclip your bra with one hand. it’s all so nerve wracking and invigorating all at once, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for more.

between the chaos and rustling of his own clothes coming off, suguru presses two digits to your budding clit and your world tilts on its axis — he’s hardly touching you and yet you feel so good, especially when he rolls the swollen little nub between a thumb and forefinger. your nails form crescent moons against his shoulder in response.

you’re so overwhelmed by the patterns he traces over your clit, his name, his promises to you and your body, as well as the blood rushing to it — that you hardly notice geto’s descent on your body, the hot trail of kisses he leaves between the valley of your breasts and over your soft tummy. you just about manage to feel him over the haze in your brain when his lips hit the scalloped edge of your panties, and you jolt when the tip of his tongue forcefully traces the outline of your un-used, soaked hole from over the gusset of said garment.

the fabric darkens as your juices pool against it, mixed with the wetness of suguru’s tongue.

“will you let me pleasure you, little one?”

it’s not like you can say no (not that you want to), especially with the way geto manoeuvres your thighs to hang over the backs of his strong shoulders as he settles between your trembling legs. while he waits for your reply, he takes your wrist into his grasp and pulls one of your silk scrunchies from it — using it to tie back his luscious black hair.

you look down at him through your lashes with a painted expression of want and worry.

suguru pushes the pads of his thumbs into the globes of your ass against the cold table — massaging the flesh with mischievous eyes as your pussy gushes and leaks a fresh wave of nectar right down to the puckered ring between your ass cheeks. “just tying my hair back as a precaution,” he whispers, voice lowering an octave as his face slowly nears your clenching cunt. “i’m a messy eater…”

“a-ah! sugu!”

at first, suguru delivers a single lick to your awaiting pussy, drawing a stripe with his tongue between the length of your fat and sluice folds. then, when you cry out his name he can’t help but to latch his heated mouth onto your unattended sex, chuckling at the realisation of just how good you taste. it’s a natural flavour, with a twinge of sweetness suguru could have only hoped to imagine. he’s been waiting for this moment and to have you like this for weeks — to replace his prior daydreams of fucking his baby sister with you…and now he finally has the material to do so.

a sinful giddiness infiltrates geto’s bloodstream as he kitten licks at your pulsating mound — feeding in your arousal as it grows before inhaling deeply, nastily taking in your scent so that he can commit it to memory. “how does that feel?” he coos his words out as he hungrily nips at your sopping folds, rolling them raw between rows of perfect white teeth until you’re choking on a breath and your face scrunches adorably. “is that nice, love?”

a wet whimper lies on your kiss-swollen lips, and your hips naturally buck up to follow the warm trace of suguru’s mouth encompassing your sex. “f-feels so good! b-better than i… could have imagined,” you struggle to get out, gargling on each syllable while your chest heaves and arches away from the chilly table — giving suguru the perfect view of your bouncing breasts and only motivating him to pleasure you more. “f-fuck!”

if you were his baby sister, suguru isn’t so sure that you’d curse in front of him. she wouldn’t, she was too docile and sweet to utter a bad thing in his presence. but you, you’re both of those things and more — you lose yourself easily to the ecstasy in your veins; liquid pleasure spewing from your blistering hot cunt like a free-flowing river, painting suguru’s high cheekbones with your body’s riches. he feels blessed to be between your thighs, defiling the blossoming flower of your cunt with his eager mouth.

“you’re so…you’re so pretty when you gush like this for me. i want you to give me more.” his tongue darts along the length of your weeping slit, catching what you leak before it can go to waste on the icy table beneath your hot skin. drunk on your taste, suguru forces his flexible tongue past the tightness of your fluttering entrance. “can you do that for me?” he mouths, though whatever he says is slurred as he slowly begins to tongue fuck you.

“a-anything,” you say, breathing shallow and eyes beginning to grow teary. suguru’s tongue slips in and out of your creaming hole with rhythm, preparing you, using a pseudo sensation, for his fat cock. “anything for you! i wanna feel good for you. wanna please you!” he languidly strokes at your ribbed insides as a reward, chasing your honey nectar taste while your hips canter up and chase bud hismouth.

suguru intends to destroy you, own you and unleash all of his darkest fantasies onto you. he’s dreamed of ruining his adoptive little sister, making her cum all over him — it just so happens that you look and sound like her, you match every single one of his dreams about her, you make them all a reality. it’s only right that he pleases you and makes you see stars for needing him and relying on him so well.

he wonders if his sister would cry like you do, or if she would try to stave off her orgasm like you do. would she scream his name over the saliva pooling on her tongue like you do. eyes in the shade of deep, chocolate brown start to flutter shut at the sound of your desperate pleas as you writhe under suguru’s attention of your swollen pussy. your back sticks to the table and your thighs shake either side of suguru’s head, but he doesn’t relent on sucking the juices that cling to your pussy lips until all he can breathe is you.

his tongue twists happily against your lush walls, grasping at the essence that lines them.

“you’re doing well for me, little one, so well…” he praises you, knowing how close you’re getting. it’s in the way your body twitches with every suck to your hardened clit and the way you try to push him off of you. you need it so bad, you need him to make you cum. suguru thrusts deeper, harder and faster using his tongue — catching what dribbles from your tiny hole after it slips between your ass cheeks and pools in a puddle on the table. “i want to taste it. if you’ll cum for me, that’ll make me happy. so let me…”

suguru can’t even finish, dizzy on the taste of you like the buzz of a high. he could spend an infinite number of days between your legs. no matter how sore his knees get from kneeling between them — all he wants to do is slurp down everything that you give him, focus on making you reach pleasure of only heavenly limits in order to evade the guilt he feels. the one that causes knots to twist in geto’s stomach.

how could he do this?

how could he want this?

to fuck someone so reminiscent of his little sister.

to manipulate them into fucking him?

suguru’s name is hot on your lips, spiralling into the husky evening air. “come on, little one. cum for me,” meanwhile, his breath on your cunt makes your hips wiggle and hole spasm — a new wave of juices staining his face. it’s scent and taste coax the man into diving back into your sopping heat, the point of his nose bumping against your pleasure nub as if peeks out from beneath its hood.

“m-mph… m’kay,” comes your hushed whisper as you thread your fingers through the black roots of geto’s hair, keeping him pinned to your precious creamy core as you rut against his agile tongue. “f-feels funny!” you gasp and warble, filling the man’s mouth with your raw folds and liquid lust.

“hm?” geto hums lazily in acknowledgment, licking up to your clit so that he can replace his tongue with two digits. he works at your dripping hole, stretching it over them through the haze in his mind. he swoons at the thought of replacing those same digits with his cock next — they speed up with excitement, squelching and echoing throughout the room, overlapping with your high pitched breathy moans.

with your heart rattling against your ribcage, you can hardly fight off the urge building within your lower belly — your hips are frantic as they chase after the feeling and the burning high that crackles across your neurons. geto groans wickedly, feeling your sex spasm against his soaked lips and clench down hard on his fingers. it’s not long before he feels you succumb to your first orgasm. it washes over him in heavenly waves — clearing away his guilt and desire for his little sister while simultaneously drowning you under sinful pretences.

your entire body is racked with the case of the shakes, your eyes shooting back into the dark depths of your skull while white noise fills your ears and overlays the sound of suguru lewdly slurping at your release. speaking off, clear streams of your arousal spurt from your quivering cunt…and for the first time ever, you squirt. everywhere, all over the place, making such a mess that suguru is left gargling over everything that you give him and there’s a crude splatter as your juices hit the floor.

he doesn’t stop, however, licking you clean with his fingers continuing to curl languidly against your g-spot — over and over again.

“sugu p-please! s’too much,” you plead in the form of a heavy sob — but only god knows that you don’t want the man to stop.

“just one more for me?” he asks you tentatively, releasing your throbbing clit with a wet pop. suguru stands and you look up at him — noting the way his bangs stick to his cheeks from how wet you’ve gotten him. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers in and out of you either, dragging the tips of them along your overstimulated and stretched walls. “you can do it, and if you can i’ll reward you. how does that sound, little one?” he slows his pace just enough to only have the seat of his palm salaciously grind against your clit, not wanting to hurt you.

he wouldn’t want to hurt his adoptive sister if he ever had the chance to get her spread open like this.

your face is stained with mascara, your brown eyes big and wobbly and your braids are askew — but still, you’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, next to her. your fingers threaten to snap shut around his wrist, but with his free hand he forces the wet and doughy flesh back open, and with a few more thrusts if his fingers, nice and tantalisingly slow, you’re cumming again in another cute, clear stream — dowsing suguru’s hand in another wash of your cum.

leaning down, suguru’s lips tainted with your arousal lean down to meet your own — capturing them in a sweet kiss to help bring you back down to earth. “what’s your colour, darling? red for bad, yellow for okay and green for good. how do you feel?”

“g-green,” you mumble, keening into his touch and craving his affection. “i feel fine, my legs won’t stop shaking. i’ve never cum like that before…”

pride blooms like a wildflower in suguru’s chest.

“well, i don’t intend on stopping, little one,” brushing your braids back into place, suguru carefully pulls his fingers out of your stretched hole and swiftly sucks them clean. “your pretty pussy is so tiny, must not have been used properly,” the vulgarity of his words have you arching for more from suguru, and you’re lucky that he’s not done with you yet. “don’t worry, love. i’ll fix that.”

you’re weak in the knees when suguru manhandles you from the table onto the floor, making sure that you’re comfortable on your tummy — he even goes as far to nestle a bag of rice flour under your hips. you pretend not to notice the way his strength makes you flutter around nothing, smearing your juices onto the bakery floor.

“i’ve been holding back quite a bit,” he murmurs against your naked shoulder blades — the dark tresses of his hair tickling your skin. “so i might not last long.” you hear a belt clink before suguru kicks his slacks off and away, rewarding your patience with a kiss against your spine. “i hope it’s okay if i just give you my all.”

from this position, it’s easy for suguru to picture his younger, adopted sister instead of you — he’s dreamed of having her present for him like this countless times, but it doesn’t compare to the way it feels having your hot body underneath him like this. your ass is so soft and pliant in his hands as he drags your hips up a little higher. another hand grasps at the hardness of his cock that’s been dripping and aching ever since geto first got his mouth on you.

with stuttering hips, he positions himself at your needy entrance, chuckling in approval when you attempt to wiggle back on him — just as hungry for this as your lover is. both of you hiss as his veiny shaft comes into contact with your sticky folds, suguru using the remnants of your orgasms to slick himself up again and make it easier for you take all of him. you can’t see him, but the dark haired man’s cheeks are tinged pink with pure desire — his gaze turning woozy as he looks from your gaping hole to his cockhead, tapping it against your souse entrance a few times for good measure.

fuck a condom, he thinks, if given the opportunity — he would have fucked his sister rawtoo.

“whatever you give me, i-it’ll be enough for me, sugu,” you sniff, fisting the floor in anticipation — laying your hot, tear streaked cheek against its cool surface. “t-thank you for treating me so well.”

“i promise,” geto heaves, words a little too rushed and eager. “i’ll make you feel so good, so fucking…h-hah—“ without warning, he thrusts all the way inside of you with his hips driving all the way forward until his pelvis is flush against the curve of your ass. geto is chubbier than you thought he would be, and just the right length — plugging you full. every vein wrapped around his shaft presses up against your most sensitive pleasure spots, and he’s weighty against your gummy unused walls.

suguru’s breath prickles at shell of your ears as he collapses on top of you, all of his weight keeping you pinned to the cold hard floor. “can i move?” he lets out a wavering gasp, fighting the instinct to fuck down into you. your cunt ripples around him deliciously, the heat from your body making him drowsy. “you need to be fucked, little one. need someone to stretch out your tight pussy… i can do that for you. if you let me…”

he hates the part of his brain that wonders if his baby sister was this tight when gojo fucked her.

“i want you to,” you slur gently, purposely squeezing down on the base of suguru’s cock and practically creaming around it. you wriggle back on him until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you — balls deep while you ooze against his pelvis and heavy balls. “need you to fuck me…”

that’s all it takes for your stranger turned lover to give his all to you. he drops his sweaty chest to your back, pulling his chubby cock from the snugness of your heat as his teeth take purchase in your shoulders — leaving a litter of love bites your uniform will barely cover once the night is over. suguru is possessive of his belongings, like you and his little sister — the bites are his claim on you.

in one powerful move, you’re full to the brim with rock hard cock — deep in your guts, churning them up and spreading lust like a wildfire through your weak body. you feel dwarfed underneath him. despite being pinned to the floor, you still manage to rock your hips back against suguru and suck more of him into your cute, quivering cunt. it just about helps him set a steady stream to his meaningful thrusts.

wet slapping sounds echo throughout the back room of the bakery, accompanied by your meek mewls and gasps for air the faster suguru pounds into your warmth. fat droplets of precum smear along your soaked and ripe insides, ready to be bred by suguru. ready to be marked by him. you feel like you belong to him like a treasured pet and you don’t even mind it. your pussy blossoms for him like that of a japanese cherry blossom in the spring time — or iris flowers, shobu, in their iconic shade of purple. like the bruises he’s left on your back.

oh, you’re just perfect for suguru. you fulfil all of his sister-fucking fantasies, even your moans sound like hers when she would get off in her room — thinking no one could hear her. he loves this, he might even love you — the way you feel wrapped around him, reaching for the stars in your eyes. it feels like you’re made for him, with the way you clamp down on his oozing mushroomed tip and squirm about underneath him.

your pussy barely lets go of geto when he draws his hips back, but every time he fucks down into him — your fluttering hole stretches to accommodate his creamy thickness. it creates the perfect pathway for the dark haired man to bully your g-spot in a way that makes you scream for more. “you’re perfect for me…fuck, you’re so perfect,” suguru intimately whispers into your skin from behind, his hands smoothing over yours as you claw at the floor to ground yourself from the overwhelming ecstasy. he thinks he understands why satoru had fucked his sister now — there’s something so satisfying about corrupting someone. taking their innocence with your dick. “should i keep you like this? on my aching cock forever?”

“y-yes please!” you squeal, succumbing to your body’s biological will, cunt spitting droplets of arousal all over suguru. he’s barely able to pull out of you, his dick on lockdown inside of your core. there’s hardly any space between you both any more, the air vibrating with electrifying lust and the scent of sex.

you coo and cry out for your newfound lover, your ass and the backs of your thighs burning from how hard his skin slaps against your own. you hardly care about the pain for its overlapped with ecstasy like sea water on a sandy shore. “you’re such a good…good fucking girl for me. for your big brother,” suguru loses track of his words, his mind lagging behind his mouth and his hips that relentlessly pound you into the ground. over the sound of sex you think that you’ve misheard him, but then his voice rises an octave and in volume as he continues to moan out your praises — succumbing to your gratifying and ichorous cunt latching onto the veins spiralling around his dick. “oh my precious little sister… taking me so fucking well—!”

in that moment, all of the guilt suguru has ever felt for leaving his sister, for ruining her relationship and fleeing to new york, for thinking of her while fucking you… it all comes rushing back. he stops thrusting, freezing in place above you while his cock twitches along your insides.

“f-fuck i—“ he starts to apologise, but the cry you let out stops him.

“nii-san,” you whine petulantly, fat tears gathering in your lash line. “d-don’t stop! please keep fucking me, fuck me harder. make me cum, make me scream, make me—!” your words are cut off by suguru’s fingers wrapping around your delicate neck from behind, giving it a gentle squeeze. he resumes his thrusts, a little harsher and more carelessly coordinated than before, once he realises that maybe you’re just as sick and twisted as him. calling him big brother while he uses you for a dirty fuck in place of his younger adopted sibling…

you like this just as much as he does.

suguru knows you’re perfect, perhaps even more so than his little sister. he uses his grip on your throat to tug your head back while he fucks you silly, slotting his mouth against yours in a salacious and sinful kiss. “onii-san, hm?” he forces his tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth pathetically as he reverts back to his mother-tongue. “you want your onii-san to fuck you, imouto? make you cum again?”

“please, please, please onii-san! g-gotta cum f’you…g’na cum. c-close!” comes your brainless babble while you fall into a cockdrunk state.

“you beg so pretty for your big brother, sweet little thing. i should fill you up, breed this greedy little cunt for all its worth, right?” suguru’s mind grows as foggy as yours, copious amounts of his precum pouring into you and dripping down your swollen slit. it’s a mess, everything is disgustingly messy — this situation, the fact that you’re so eagerly calling him your big brother, the fact that he’s fucking you because you remind him of his sibling. but neither of you give a shit, not when you feel so fucking good you swear you’re seeing the pearly gates.

“g-god! please sugu, please nii-san, i need it. need you!” the slow roll of your hips contrasts with geto’s ever increasing slap of skin on skin, your mix of arousals crudely seeping down his balls and to the floor below. the point at which your bodies join starts to forth as well.

“is that so…?” suguru hums attentively, grinning ear to ear at how you play into this immoral dynamic. it fuels the fire of lust burning through him, setting his lungs alight and ruining his chances at breathing. his thrusts become erratic, his cockhead married to your g-spot, and he finds himself growing more and more excited about the sight of his cum leaking from your ravaged hole. “you must really like it when your big brother fucks you — hm, lillith baby? do you like how deep i can get, deep in your tummy?” he continues to ramble, grabbing your ass cheeks to peel them apart — letting out a deep and wild gripe from his chest at the sight of strings of your clear arousal glueing the fleshy globes together. “love how you throw it back on me. keep coating your nii-san’s cock in your pretty juices. gush for me, make me shine with your cum.”

you nod and do as geto says, simpering out for even more while you work yourself back on his swelling girth as it shines with milky white. you can no longer keep up with what’s happening, your brain actually lags at the way your faux big brother coos your name while your sexes sing a lewd song of pap, pap, pap. lust courses through your veins and burns at your nerve endings, you should feel disgusted with yourself but nothing makes sense. you feel like you’re high, and you don’t want to come back down. at this point, all you can do is lay down and take it, clenching around suguru’s hard cock where it counts — pulling more precum from his heavy breeder’s balls.

“nii-san…more, ‘m right there—“ you sob, reaching back with bambi eyes that plead for another kiss. you allow suguru to fuck you at his own free will, too weak to keep up.

“right here, imouto? against this sweet spot, baby sis?” you get a little tighter every time he calls you his little sister, creaming around his base and crying out his name as if it’s a fucking prayer. “you want me to breed you that bad, baby sis? want my cum deep in your little sister cunt?”

you beg for it through tears and suguru makes you cum again just like he promised. your third orgasm of the night renders you completely useless, a silent scream tearing in your throat while you seizes up and trap suguru deep inside of your fluttering cunt. it’s so fucking cute to him, how much you gush when you orgasm, like a rushing river that never stops flowing. it’s almost as if the flood gates have opened up or heaven has rained down on geto’s fat cock.

that’s all he needs for his own orgasm to be triggered, he collapses on top of you from behind as he empties his balls inside of your womb with a shout of your name. “‘m sorry little one, ‘m sorry… so fucking sorry.” he says hoarsely, cock pulsing while a wave of his cream lines your pussy from the inside — he doesn’t ever let up, fucking you through it all until both of your sexes are raw and abused beyond repair. “i love you, baby sis… imouto. s-shit, i love you so much.” your hole burns by the time suguru comes down, and you swear he feels bigger now that his dick is swollen with his orgasm.

suguru is still cumming in spurts when he pulls out of you with a hiss, painting your puffy folds white, the rest leaking out of your entrance. “im so sorry… I have no idea where that came from…” he starts to apologise tiredly. “that was…”

you remain silent for a moment, mulling over what to say next as suguru rolls off of you, and lays by your side quietly. you flip onto your back, staring up at the artificial lights hanging from the ceiling. you liked this, whatever the hell it was… even if it meant he was fucking you to fuck his unresolved feelings out for his sister.

“amazing… yeah.” is the response that you settle on.

“that’s…that’s not what i meant.”

“and i know that! you don’t have to apologise,” you cut him off abruptly, keeping your voice softly. “i liked it, whatever weird kink this is, it made me feel good.”

geto flushes hot all over, sheepishly running a hand through his sweaty black locks. “my sister… she’s not seriously my blood sister. she’s adopted and—“ he’s so sheepish and right after ruining you beyond belief that it makes you laugh in pure amusement. “a-and i like you! quite a bit. i know this was… strange… but with your permission. i’d like to keep seeing you.”

“and fucking me?” you tease, tucking yourself into the man’s side while nuzzling your face into his neck. he smells like you, he smells like sex…but you’re satisfied.

his arm loosely wraps around your waist, thumbing over any bruises he might have left there. “that too.”

“what about the gifts?”

“those won’t stop either.”

finally, you sit up, looming over geto as you tuck your braids behind your ear and out of your face. cupping suguru’s jaw, you lean over him and place a somewhat upside down kiss to the man’s lips — then brush over their cherry red bruising. “then you have yourself a deal — now please help me clean up, sugu. i don’t want to get fired.”

it’s his turn to laugh next. “i’ll just take care of all your expenses if you do.”

you roll your eyes.

this new dynamic, this new fling…it’s unhealthy, yeah. but as long as suguru has someone like you to look out for and need him. he thinks he’ll be okay.

getting over his sister was the key to healing. just like his purple nailed therapist had said — so focusing on you was healing him. before either of you can move to help clean up, suguru reaches up slowly and cups your neck tenderly. he brings you down to his level, his fingers wrapping around the silver chain swinging loosely from your neck before pressing a kiss to the amethyst pendant there.

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claymoresword · 2 months

Text

I Choose Her | Chp: 19

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: heavy themes, character death, mention of violence, death, grief, (somehow) a sprinkle of fluff

Note: hello! finally we're here, this is looking like the second last chapter, which is bitter sweet but I suppose it has to end at some point :( also I know this one is shorter than usual, and since it is very plot driven it may not be as fun to read but I hope the fluff makes up for it! the next chapter will definitely be longer and hopefully less depressing overall lol. anyway, that's it, as always endless thanks for your patience. hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character

You can feel heat prickling your skin, the quidditch pitch is a fiery blaze and you could only afford to stare in helpless despair.

The quaffle hoops once stood large and tall, you've flown by them countless times during quidditch practice, and multiple house matches. One of the best memories you've made at Hogwarts– reduced to ash.

Now the wooden stands are nothing but kindling for the fire that devoured them, they come crashing down in pieces of hot red ember.

Smoke is all you can smell in the air, thick hot ash and fear.

You can't move, still– you observed as the flames licked another banner, Gryffindor or Slytherin, they were no match for it's fiery wrath.

More students sprint past, careless and panicked, nudging you in the process. Now you are forcefully pushed further into the doorway.

It works as a shock to your system, a part of you astrayed amidst the chaos, but you had to keep running, in search of Hermione.

You propell down the main hall, soon approaching the gallery.

“Y/n!” Blessedly, you finally hear your love call out to you, but it was a shout of warning.

Somehow, you manage to narrowly dodge the curse coming your way. “Avada Kedavra!” You cast in return, without thought, almost second nature.

The Death Eater is thrown backwards, slamming through a broken wall and into a pile of bricks.

Your plan to advance forward is interrupted as you feel a presence fall into you, arms wrapped tightly around your neck.

The scent of your girlfriend's perfume is now smothered by the smell of sweat and dirt, but it provides you comfort all the same.

“I thought you were– I thought I lost you.” Hermione mutters, scattered, and all you want to do is hold her, kiss her, and take her as far away from the castle as you possibly could.

But as much as you would like it to be, fleeing is not an option.

Instead you cup her face in your hands, committing each feature of hers to memory, every dip and freckle.

“I'm sorry.” You say.

“It all happened too fast, I don't know how we got separated.” You finish, still trying to make sense of mayhem. You've both come face to face with death half a dozen times tonight, maybe more.

None of it makes sense.

“Guys, come on!” Harry's voice forces Hermione to break your gaze, she then tugs on your arm, guiding you with her.

Soon you find yourselves in a steady jog down the hallway, you turn a corner only to be met with a sight that stops the four of you in your tracks.

Greyback was bent over the body of a girl, his jaw clamped firmly on her neck, draining all life from his victim.

“No!” Hermione shouts. Frantically, she throws a curse, causing the werewolf to crash through the wall behind him. Now the beast has been vanquished, but it is too late.

Atop rubble and ash, Lavender Brown laid stiff and colorless, entirely unlike herself.

Her eyes are open, yet they held no trace of her. The girl's mortal soul, taken by death– ever merciless and violent, tonight, he spares very few.

Harry is first to snap out of the terror induced trance that you found yourselves in, consequently followed by Hermione.

Soon you move as well, but as you glance at Ron, you can't bring yourself to take another step.

Despite yourself, you find your hand reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Come on, mate.” You coax, but the man doesn't react to your touch, or your voice.

He continues to stare at Lavender– and the sheer absence of her.

“She's gone– she isn't suffering anymore.” You offer, hoping Ron would find some solace in your words, however minute.

He does.

Nodding, the ginger haired boy tears his eyes away from his deceased lover. The four of you continue your journey through the courtyard and down the winding stairs towards the boathouse.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Hermione's ironclad grip on your forearm doesn't falter as you follow Harry's lead, quietly approaching the boathouse. The four of you immediately crouch out of sight as you caught movement inside.

Voldermort's voice, faint and unsettling, it makes your blood run cold.

He continues to deliver his thoughts with a tone closer to a whisper, the four of you are forced to strain your necks to listen.

Soon you make out a second voice, and you share a quick look amongst yourselves. Trying your hardest to make sense of what was being said between the Dark Lord, and Professor Snape.

“Tonight, when the boy comes, it will not fail you, I'm sure of it.”

“It answers to you, and you only.”

Unsettling silence fills the air once more, and you feel inclined to shift closer to Hermione.

“Does it?” Voldermort finally inquires, and it is followed by a lack of response, for a beat, you wonder if Snape was still present.

“My Lord?” The Professor eventually says.

“The wand, does it truly answer to me?”

“You're a clever man Severus, surely you must know.”

“Where does it's true loyalty lie?”

“With you, of course. My Lord.” The Professor replies with just a gleam of hesitation, and for a reason unknown to you, it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.

“The Elder wand cannot serve me properly because I am not it's true master. The wand belongs to the wizard who killed it's last owner.” Voldermort continues.

“You killed Dumbledore, Severus.”

“While you live, the elder wand cannot truly be mine.”

“You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but only I can live forever.”

Then, Hermione turns to you, and you give her a similar look of horror in response.

“My Lord-” Severus’ response is strained.

None of you are given a chance to react before a loud thud is heard, you see the Professor's silhouette hitting the glass before you.

“Nagini, kill.”

The panel vibrates violently, but miraculously, it doesn't shatter.

The sound of Snape's body hitting the glass repeatedly with every deathly blow, makes the four of you jump.

Then a cold gust of wind surrounded the boathouse, and soon, it was quiet again. Only the sound of water, and the noise of a boat hitting the wooden dock everytime it swayed. Snape's shallow breathing, unsteady and helpless.

Harry is first to move, he enters the boathouse, and the rest of you can only trail after him silently.

“Professor–” You stutter as you catch sight of the man laying on the ground.

Snape was a formidable man, one you used to fear, even respected.

He has never looked so small.

Harry crouches beside him, he places his hand on the man's neck as Snape lets out a sob. The sight was so foreign that you had to look away.

“Take them– take them.” The man pleads, incoherent at first, but quickly Harry understands his request.

“Give me something, a flask, anything.” The chosen one orders, extending his arm toward Hermione.

Your girlfriend does as she is bid, fishing out the object from her bag before passing her best friend an empty vial.

You watched with bated breaths as Harry held it up to Snape's cheek, collecting the Professor's tears. Once he was done, he cuped the vial firmly in his grasp.

“Take them to the pensieve.” Snape orders with all that's left of his strength.

He was slipping away, you could see it, the way his head was nodding to the side as he slowly fell limp against the glass, his gaze far away and vacant.

The man whispers something intelligible to Harry, perhaps intended for his ears only. In half a heartbeat, Snape was dead.

–

Harry reaches over to gently shut the Professor's eyes.

You step closer, with the intention to lay Snape on the floor properly, so he may be put to rest with some dignity, but before you can suggest it, a blinding pain courses through your arm.

It makes you groan aloud.

Hermione reaches out for you, but then a voice penetrates the air, sudden and invasive.

The Dark Lord is merciless in his attempt, he has lost every ounce of patience– you could feel it in your arm.

Hermione clasps her hands over her ears as Voldermort delivers his second message.

“You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this.. every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat, in their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity.”

“Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate.”

“If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child, who tries to conceal you from me.”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

As the four of you walked through the empty courtyard, you can't help but notice just how quiet it was, something that would usually be considered a comfort, is now incredibly unnerving.

“Where is everybody?” Hermione asks, but her question is soon enough answered once you push the doors open to the Great Hall.

The space is unrecognizable.

A scene from a nightmare.

There is not a candle in sight, everyone operating on the bit of light provided by the moon. You spot Mr Filch, sequestered in a corner, miserably sweeping piles of rubble out of the way.

Your stomach turns as you make your way through, an endless line of bodies laid upon makeshift cots.

You can't help but look upon all their faces, one by one. All these bodies– they were once sons, daughters, somebody's friend or lover.

The air is snatched out of your lungs as you spot a familiar face.

Nymphadora Tonks lay unmoving beside her husband, their hands outstretched as if to touch each other– even in death.

“No..” You mutter in disbelief and Hermione follows your gaze, she let's out a sharp gasp.

It could have easily been you laying on that cot.

It could have been Hermione.

The thought alone made you nauseous, you could physically feel your stomach turn. You decide you had to get away before you wretched.

Before you could however, a desperate wail snatches your attention. You look up to find Ron in the distance, he sobs uncontrollably as he knelt over his brother's dead body.

You watched as Ginny held him, now they are both sobbing helplessly.

Molly could do all but console them. What agony it must be, to watch your children die before their time.

There is so much pain, too much– you had to get away.

You turn to leave the Great Hall, or what is left of it, with no destination in mind. You simply needed to escape.

Away from grief, away from death, if there was ever a chance of evading it tonight.

“Y/n!” Amidst suffocating torment, no voice has ever sounded as sweet. Hermione swiftly catches up to you, her hand slips into your own.

Your palm now felt calloused and rough. It is caked with dirt and dried blood, but Hermione holds it firmly in her own still.

“Don't leave without telling me like that, we can't separate again.” Hermione scolds, and you offer an apologetic look.

“I just need to get some air.” You explain, but Hermione doesn't question it, in desperate need of an escape herself.

“Come,” She merely coaxes, tugging on your arm.

You soon realize she aims to guide you somewhere secluded, but it seemed impossible. Everywhere you looked, it was death and destruction. Your home; a battlefield.. a gravesite.

After wandering for some time, you finally find a place to sit, the flight of stairs leading up to the Headmaster's Tower remains vacant and mostly intact. Although pieces of stone would break off from the sides ever so often, when compared to the rest of the castle, it was hardly worth acknowledging.

Hermione takes a seat on the step, gesturing for you to do the same next to her. Your girlfriend runs her fingers through your disheveled hair, tenderly moving it out of your face.

Neither of you speak just yet, even after all that's happened tonight, she manages to smile at you, honest and bright. It nearly breaks you.

The thought of living even a day without her was excruciating, you can't lose her tonight, under any circumstances.

“We'll be okay, we've made it this far.” Hermione utters out loud, as if she had just read your mind.

“It'll all be over soon.” Your girlfriend says, but you catch the faint tremor in her voice. She was fighting back tears.

Yet, you could only wrap your arm around her as she rests her head on your shoulder.

After a prolonged silence, you decide to redirect the topic of conversation, however macabre it may seem, you somehow saw it as the perfect opportunity.

Afterall, you could both use a little bit of joy right now.

“There's something I've wanted to ask you– it is going to sound mad, but I need to say it. before it's too late.” You stammer, a sudden sense of nervousness setting in, you take in a deep breath to calm yourself.

“What is it?” Hermione inquires, by the way her brows furrowed you could tell she was concerned as you spoke vaguely.

You quickly realize that it was too late to back out, you needed to take the leap, and hope that Hermione will catch you.

Amidst a sigh you stand up so you could move a step down.

“This is definitely not how I planned to do it, but–” You mutter, looking around before it occurred to you to utilise the ring you already had on your finger.

You take it off as you got down on one knee, albeit somewhat ungracefully. Hermione's eyes widen at the sight, but she doesn't say anything as of yet, watching you intently.

You extend your hand in front of you, and your girlfriend's gaze shifts to the Slytherin crest ring pinched between your index finger and your thumb.

“Hermione Jean Granger, if we make it out alive tonight– would you do me the incredible honor of being my wife?” You finally manage to utter the words you have longed to say.

Hermione's eyes were no longer wide in shock, but her expression is now unreadable. You couldn't tell if she was about to burst into tears or laugh in your face.

In the end, she does neither, but she still struggles to find the words.

“Y/n, I–” She stutters before averting her gaze.

“Are you sure?” Hermione finally asks, meeting your expectant stare, and you can't help but let out a chuckle.

“I have wanted you since the first moment. I knew I loved you from the first time you smiled at me. and I knew I wanted to marry you the first time you ran your fingers through my hair. and then our first kiss– I truly thought if we couldn't be together, I'd die.” You spoke from the heart without missing a beat, not caring about just how dramatic you might have sounded.

“I used to think that I'd be just fine on my own. I didn't believe that I could ever care for someone the way I do for you.” Your voice breaks ever so slightly, you swallow before continuing.

“Hermione when I'm not with you– it feels like I can't breathe.” You barely manage to say, your throat tightens, as a tear escapes your eye.

“my love–” Hermione coos, her own eyes now welling up with tears. She approaches to grab your forearm, although not harshly, she guides you back on your feet.

Your faces are mere inches away from each other before she would crash her lips against yours, a kiss that is restless and unchecked yet somehow equally tamed and loaded with love.

“Of course, I will marry you.” She declares once your lips part, she wipes the tear away with the pad of her thumb, and your heart sings.

You are unable to contain the large grin on your face, one Hermione had no issues reciprocating.

“Really?” You ask, mainly in relief rather than actual disbelief.

Hermione pauses as if thinking of an adequate response

“Well, I do think we should at least wait a year or two, at least until after we finish school.” Hermione admits, and you scoff, even in the midst of a war her priorities remain unchanged.

“but–” Hermione says, grabbing your face so she could force you to meet her gaze once more.

“It is a yes, without a doubt. I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else.” Your girlfriend states earnestly, and your smile returns.

You eagerly grab her hand so you may slip the ring onto her finger.

Hermione stares at the piece of jewelry, silently inspecting the intricate carving of a snake, before finally kissing you again.

The feeling of Hermione's lips against your own allowed you to forget the impending threat of death. With her you believe that you could survive anything. This war will be over soon, and you will marry her. Whatever it takes.

Hermione breaks the kiss only when you are both gasping for air, she embraces you tightly, as if trying to savor the feeling as much and for as long as she could.

Harry emerges from seemingly out of nowhere, you open your eyes as you hear footsteps. Hermione releases you so she may turn to her friend.

Harry's stare was distant, troubled. In truth, he looked sick. You dread to find out exactly what he's witnessed within Snape's memories, neither you nor Hermione mustered the will to ask.

Unexpectedly, Harry is first to break the silence.

“Where's Ron?” He mutters, finally looking between Hermione and yourself.

“He's with his family still.” Your girlfriend explains. Then the chosen one nods, and he starts to fade once more, disappearing into his own head.

“Harry what is it?” Hermione asks, when Harry looks up at her again, his eyes are glossed over with tears.

“There's a reason I can hear them, the Horcruxes.” He remarks. “I've known for awhile, and I think you have too.”

The newfound resolve in his voice makes your entire body stiffen, soon Hermione is crying again.

Harry possessed a bravery you once envied– but no longer.

He plans to confront the Dark Lord and the thought of it made you ill, he shouldn't have to go through it alone. It seems your girlfriend shared the same sentiment as she spoke her next words amidst soft sobs.

“I'll go with you–” She suggests, but her best friend is quick to turn her down.

“No, kill the snake.” Harry says, glancing between the two of you.

“Kill the snake and then it's just him.” He asserts. Hermione practically throws herself into his arms.

You watched as she cleaved to him hopelessly, Harry doing the same in return.

Soon, The Chosen One shifts his gaze towards something behind you, and you swiftly turn around to see Ron standing a few paces away.

The expression on his face suggests he had been standing there for some time.

His eyes were tired, glazed over with what resembled apathy– or perhaps the harrowing inevitably of acceptance. You could not say for certain.

One thing you did know; in order to defeat Voldermort, Harry Potter has to die.

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #harry potter #hermione granger smut

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thought--bubble · 3 months

Text

Right Place, Wrong Time PT 1/3

Dark Aemond X (Out of World Reader)

Warnings after the cut

(This one is a bit different then my other Aemond one shots due to the request received. This was created from THIS request)

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

A/N: i spent forever trying to shorten this so it would be a one-shot but I lost too much of the story and decided to make it two parts, so part two will be posted tomorrow.

Warnings:: Alcohol use, Threats of violence

"I am so drunk." You turn to your best friend Becca and laugh, a big loud laugh that ends in a snort.

"I noticed you're a big sloppy mess," she eyes you up and down. "Can't take you anywhere, it seems," she teases as she pulls you up from your stool at the bar. "Time to go"

"What? Noooooooo!" You whine loudly."I don't wanna gooooooo yet!" You look at her with a drunken pout.

"Rideshare is outside. Come on, we'll go back to your place and chill." She takes you by the forearm, trying to keep you steady as she guides you out of the bar out onto the cold sidewalk.

She helps you get into the rideshare as you fall over yourself, giggling loud and obnoxiously. "Good lord, you lush!" She chuckles as she gets in beside you.

"Not a lush," you murmur under your breath, "just like to have fun is all. You should try it sometime"

The rest of the ride back to your flat is quiet. You rest your head against the door of the car, closing your eyes, the gentle hum of the car nearly lulling you to sleep.

When the car pulls in front of your place, Becca has to practically drag you out of the car and up the steps.

"Come on!" She struggles to hold you."You're not as light as you think you are!"

"Hey! Rude!" You chuckle as you try to stand yourself up straight, fishing your key from your handbag. You attempt to put the key in the lock but keep missing it.

"Give me that!" Becca scowls as she pulls the key from your hand. "You're a bloody menace, you know that, right?"

"I keep things interesting." You wiggle your eyebrows at her as she gets the door open.

"Just get in there and try not to fall." She motions you inside, and you stumble past her, making your way to the sofa.

As you plop down on the sofa, you groan loudly and say, "I'm hungry"

Becca rolls her eyes and heads to the pantry, picking up a pack of graham crackers, your favorite snack.

"MMMm grammys," you wiggle happily in your seat on the sofa as she throws the packet into your lap.

"Put something on," she says as she pours two cups of water from the kitchen.

You reach onto the coffee table to snatch the remote, almost tumbling off.

"I'm putting on the dragon show! But, I'm skipping to the second half. When the sexy guy with the eyepatch comes on"

Becca puts a cup of water in front of you.

"Aemond is a bad guy. You're not supposed to like him, " she laughs at you.

"If they didn't want me to like him, they shouldn't have him looking like that. I don't care what he has done. He's forgiven, and he has full permission to do whatever he wants to me at any time. " You giggle as you settle yourself back into the sofa.

"You're a sicko." Becca gets comfortable laying on the other side of your sofa.

You are barely into the episode when your eyelids get heavy. You fight the feeling of sleep trying to make it to the scene you want to see.

What seems like a quick blink was anything but. You wake up and stretch, rubbing your eyes to take in your surroundings.

You look around the room, yawning, as your brain turns on your eyebrows furrow. This is not your room. You look down at yourself. You are in a chemise under thick, heavy blankets.

"W-w-what the fuck?" You move toward the edge of the bed sliding your feet out and over the edge.

"Good morning lady, you look up and see Becca dressed up like some old time maid.

"Becca, thank God, dude. Where are we?" You stand up and run your hands through your hair.

"My apologies, my Lady, we are at the red keep? You have a morning meal with your betrothed. We need to get you ready for. " she moves toward a wardrobe and shuffles through some old style fancy dresses.

"Betrothed? What are you talking about!" You close your eyes. "Am I asleep right now? Cmon self wake up. " You smack your cheeks as Becca stares at you in concern.

"My lady..... Are you feeling unwell? Should I get the maester?" She walks towards you.

"The fucking what? No, i need an intervention! Clearly, I drink too much. " You pace the room, "Cmon wake up! Wake up!"

Becca moves towards the door. "I will get you some help, my lady"

"No! Don't bring anyone here. I just need to wake up!"

"My lady, I need to get you ready for morning meal." She shifts uneasily from foot to foot.

"Oh no. Nope. Not having some imaginary breakfast with some imaginary betrothed person in my fucking head" you look up toward the ceiling and laugh "I've lost the fucking plot"

"My lady, Prince Aemond, would be most displeased if you did not arrive as arranged"

Your head snaps down, "Umm, wait. Did you just say Prince Aemond? As in... pale hair? Eyepatch? Slutty waist? Extreme sexiness?"

Becca's cheeks turn a bright crimson. "Prince Aemond Targaryen, my lady. Your betrothed"

"Right. Well.... I mean. . This is a dream, right? No harm in sleeping a little longer, yeah, ok, dress me up!" You smile widely and hold out your arms.

Becca nods and gets to work, putting on layer after layer of skirts and undershirts and whatever else these old-time dresses require. She does your hair in a pretty braid that she wraps around your head.

Once she is finished, she smiles and tells you how wonderful you look.

"Ok, so where am I going?" You look at her expectantly.

"The dowager queen's chambers?" It's obvious that she is confused that you don't know this already.

"Right. Obviously, " you chuckle. "And uh. Someone will walk me there? I mean, I'm a lady and all that stuff?"

Becca tilts her head to the side as she goes to speak, but then stops herself. "Yes, Sir, Simon is just outside he shall accompany you "

You smile wide and rub your hands together. "Alright, then I'm off before I wake up!" You chuckle and walk quickly out the door to find a knight waiting for you.

"Lead the way, Sir. Knightington!" You lean forward hands behind your back.

"My lady, I am Sir. Allen Simon"

"Yeah, ok, cool. Let's go see the prince of hotness. " You wave your hand, gesturing for him to start walking .

The very confused knight nods and leads you through the halls of the old castle as you smile like a goofball walking behind him.

He stops in front of an old wooden door and knocks. A maid just like Becca opens the door and gestures you in while, sir. Simon stands by the door.

As you enter the room, your excitement peaks when you see Aemond and Alicent sitting at a small table with tea and foods set upon it.

You bring your hands to your face and squeal like a school girl. " ahhhh, best dream ever!"

They both look at you wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry dear, is everything alright?" Alicent tries not to be too obvious with the fact that she is secretly judging you while Aemond actually looks quite amused.

"Oh yes. Yep. All good here. " You sit at the table and unabashedly stare at Aemond.

"We were hoping to discuss the wedding." Alicent starts.

"That today? I'm hoping to get to that whole wedding night thing." You keep staring at Aemond. Who desperately holds back a laugh.

"Oh!" Alicent is shocked by your statement but quickly recovers. "No, my dear, it is still a few moons away"

"Ugh!" You grumble, annoyed.

The rest of the meeting Alicent goes over different things for the wedding. You just nod and agree with whatever she says while keeping your eyes on Aemond.

Aemond tries to listen to his mother but regularly turns back toward you to see you staring at him every time.

After breakfast, you are taken back to your chambers.

You sit in the room and stare at the door. "What kind of dream is this!" You sigh in frustration. "He should have come and fucked me senseless by now... this dream sucks"

You move towards the bed and lay down thinking if you go to sleep in your dream, you will wake back up.

When you wake from your nap, you look around. You can see that it has gotten dark, but you are still in the castle.

"When the fuck am I gonna wake up?"

You end up asking yourself this repeatedly when every night for the last five nights you go to sleep only to wake up back in the castle.

On the morning of the sixth day, you sit in the garden, your head in your hands. You are fully panicking. Are you in a coma?

"You look distressed, my Lady." Aemond sits down next to you. "Has someone caused you discomfort?"

"No. I'm not supposed to be here, but I'm stuck here. " Your eyes start to water, and tears trail down your cheeks.

"It may feel that way, I would assume most women feel like that when they join a new family and leave their own. Just know I plan to make sure your every need is met"

"No. I mean, I'm not supposed to be here. " You gesture your hands around wildly."Dragons aren't real, purple eyed, sexy one-eyed princes aren't either. I was poisoned or drugged or something, and now I am stuck in my head. " You put your face in your hands and start to cry.

Aemond is shocked and sits next to you silently. "I'm sorry my Lady. I seem to be having trouble understanding what you mean?"

"Dude, you" you wave him up and down "are from a TV show based on a book series. You are not real. you're in my head, and I think i'm dying because I can't get out of it"

"I can assure you I am, in fact, very real." He lifts your hand and places it over his heart. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes.... but I am imagining it. I lived an entire life. with electricity, cars, and cellphones, " you sigh. "No, either I'm in my head, or I somehow drank myself into an alternate dimension."

Aemond's skin prickles at this statement.

"I know..... someone... who may have the answers you seek"

You quickly snatch his hand and pull him up. "Ok, let's go." As you start to tug him, he tugs back.

"We are not going to see them now. I will come to you when the time is right. " His face is pensive, and his jaw taught.

"What? I can't wait anymore!" You tug him again.

He yanks his arm from you. "Stop it. You are acting like a child"

"So, bring me to your mystery friend and get my ass sent back to a world with heating and indoor plumbing, and you won't have to marry me anymore." You smile at him cheekily.

He clicks his tongue and looks you up and down. "Very well, I will bring you to her, but it will be on my terms." He swiftly walks away from you, his long hair swaying from side to side.

You feel incredibly relieved when only a few days later, in the dead of night, Aemond returns to you sliding into your room. You shoot up in the bed, looking around frightfully as your eyes adjust to the darkness.

"My lady?" He whispers as he enters the bedchamber with a hooded shawl hanging over his arm.

"Jeeze, you scared the shit outta me." You hop out of the bed in just your chemise.

He drags his eyes down your entire body to your toes and back up again.

"See, now you got me thinking this is a dream again." You chuckle.

He clears his throat. "Get dressed, and put this on." He hands you the shawl. You take it and quickly throw it over your shoulders.

"You... should put a dress on" he stammers.

"Right." You take the shawl off and go to the wardrobe. " I don't know how to put one of these dresses on by myself!"

He huffs and walks towards the wardrobe and pulls out a basic dress.

"It couldn't possibly be that difficult to figure out." He helps you into the dress, his hands touching your body as he does so.

He laces up the back of the dress, pulling you so close to him that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck.

He stands there for a minute with his hands sliding up and down the laces on your back as you hold your breath. Before he suddenly pulls away.

"Let us go quickly." He picks the shawl back up and places it over your head and shoulders. When you turn around towards him, he ties the shawl closed, looking directly into your eyes.

He moves his face close to yours and breathes in deeply before pulling back again.

"Follow me closely." He moves toward the wall in the back of your chamber and pushes it open.

"Oh, cool!" You nearly shout as he whips his head around back at you.

"Would you like us to be caught?" he asks, annoyed.

"Sorry." You cover your mouth quickly.

As you enter into the passage way following behind him, you whisper under your breath. "This is really cool, though," as you look around.

He makes a noise that you think is a chuckle, but you aren't sure.

You follow Aemond through the passageways and out down towards a smelly little town.

"This place is nice"

"No. It is disgusting. " He replies, Your sarcasm clearly goes over his head.

He leads you through the quiet streets in the dark until you come across a little hovel like house. He quietly knocks on the door as he looks side to side.

A very beautiful older woman opens the door.

"I was waiting for you." She moves to the side, allowing you both to enter.

Once you both enter, she closes the door behind her.

"This is her?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"Hmmm," he replies.

"Let me see your hand, child." She holds her hand out to you, and you place yours in hers. She closes her eyes and hums quietly.

"Yes, Aemond." She opens her eyes and looks at him. "You were right. The spell worked. When we sent Rhaenyra away, we pulled this girl in. There must always be a balance."

"We need to find a way to send her back," He says curtly.

"We agreed that whomever was pulled here in her place would be dealt with....." The woman says gently, holding your hand tight.

Fear prickles up the back of your neck.

"No. Not her. Send her back. Whomever comes in her place will be dealt with, but she goes back. Set up the spell again."

"I do not have everything necessary... " The woman starts.

"Alys! I said she goes back. Get what you need and then send for me. I will have her at the keep until then. " He takes you tightly by the arm and drags you back out of the hovel.

When you get outside, you pull your arm out of his grasp. "You! You brought me here?" You back away from him.

"Quiet your mouth." He snaps at you. "All will be explained once we are back at the keep now move." He reaches to grasp your arm again, but you pull it out of his reach.

"No. No way! dude, you dragged me into a different reality! This, This is insane!!" You start to hyperventilate.

"Enough!" He takes your chin tightly in his hand. "I could end this problem easily but have, against my better judgment, decided to take pity on you and simply send you back to where it is you came from." He calms himself slightly, letting go of your face but quickly taking hold of your arm.

"I would suggest, you do as I say in an effort to preserve what little patience it is that I have left"

You gulp loudly and nod your head, allowing him to lead you back toward the tunnels and back up into the keep.

"It shouldn't be too long." He pulls you up next to him as he lets go of your arm and reaches up to gently cup your cheek.

"You can trust me"

Part 2

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