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oceantornadoo · 2 days

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bloody perfect

this is so insane i am so sorry

ao3 link

roommate!simon riley x f!reader with a blood/period kink, dubcon, slightly mean!simon, blood as a symbol for love and devotion (two and a half steps away from cannibalism)

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the door to your apartment opened in a blurred flash, keys jangling from the door. you snapped shut the book you had been reading, jumping to stand at attention, like some poor imitation of a soldier. like your roommate.

“hi, simon. nice to have you back.” you squeaked out, forcing your shoulders to relax. simon had his back to you, gloved hands fiddling with the lock. his boots looked dirty, streaks of dirt staining the floor. your gaze lifted up to the back of him, looking impossibly bigger than before he left for deployment. he somehow filled out his jeans more, thighs and ass hugging them in all the right places. even his black sweatshirt seemed strained against his shoulders, fabric fighting the breadth of his wingspan. your eyes landed on his head, hair messy from taking off his balaclava. you felt yourself step forward once, twice, almost in a trance. it had been so long.

“can feel ya starin’, love. miss me?” simon turned around, his smirk mean around the edges. you were hit with the full force of his gaze, new scratches on his face, a bandage on his arm. “you-you’re hurt.” he gazed down at the bandage, as if just realizing it was there. “‘s nothin’. didn’t answer my question.” you gulped audibly, almost comically. the air was sticky sweet with your nervousness and his cockiness, getting thicker by the minute as he kicked off his boots and made his way towards you. you didn’t understand it, this sudden change in your dynamic. you’d been cordial roommates, sharing a few meals and a movie or two. it was nice to have the apartment to yourself (that’s what you told yourself on cold nights), nice to have the rent taken care of with an absent roommate. but something had changed. some hunger had festered, sickly growth set behind simon’s eyes. he met you in two steps, taunting you with his height as he forced you to crane your neck towards him. it was his nearness that threw you off, made you say some insane thing.

“i missed you.”

his eyes flashed, clearly not expecting your submissiveness. practically a bitch in heat, rolling over to show him your tummy. he could almost smell the desperation coming off you in waves, the need for intimacy, the need for him to darken your doorstep. he could almost smell something else.

simon lowered his face to that juncture of skin between your jaw and collarbone, nosing at it gently. “missed ya too, dove.” you hummed as he nosed further, like some battered K9 who never retired, practically foaming at the mouth. he slipped his gloves into his back pockets, silent as a ghost. “‘aven’t gone on any dates, hav’ ya?” you shook your head vehemently, almost knocking into his own with the force of your eagerness. “thas’ a good girl." he rewarded you with skin on skin contact, calloused hands brushing up and down your jaw. you practically moaned at the contact, your body sorely missing the touch of a man. he maneuvered you back to the couch, laying you down with controlled restraint.

“y’ve been lonely.” you opened your mouth to answer but he cut you off, one large paw covering the bottom half of your face. simon tutted, practically clicking his tongue like a scolding teacher. “wasn’t a question.” words escaped you, jaw opening and shutting with no sound. you settled for a nod, pretending you had some semblance of control over simon’s actions. his gaze trailed down your body, eyes stopping for a second at your heaving chest, noting the pebbled nipples behind your sleep shirt. you moved to take it off, hands shaking, but that same hand shot from your mouth to your hand, gripping it hard. “not tonight.” your brows knitted together. did he not do foreplay? you had been without sex for far too long to entertain that idea. just as you were about to voice this particular concern, he squeezed your wrist hard, resisting from twisting the delicate bones beneath him. “shut it. stop askin’ shit. y’re not in charge ‘ere.”

“now this.” his hands moved to toy with the hem of your pajama shorts. “can smell ‘er loud and clear.” he brushed a hand over your lower stomach, pressing into your flesh with a groan. you let out a small moan, practically a mewl, as the heat of his touch battled the simmering cramps you’d had all day. “simon.” you bit back a gasp. “simon, it hurts.” so frail under him, practically begging for ghost to come home and take care of you. he shushed you with a kiss to your stomach, lips brushing the fabric of your pajamas. he tore off your shorts with practiced restraint, the hands of a trained killer dragging down each inch like each one was its own mission. each glimpse of your segment of skin was the target, weapons trained on the underwear it revealed to him. ghost let out a groan, the sound rumbling through him to you, his body practically molded to yours. his thumbs found your hipbones, small circles repeating their path.

“simon, you’ll mess up the couch.” he grunted. “need a bigger one, anyway. shut y’r pretty trap, dove.” you followed orders immediately. he dove in nose-first to the seam of your underwear, trailing down slowly. “‘s sweet.” all saccharine under him, the beast within beating at his ribcage, screaming to be let out. ghost was a shark in the water, dangerous at the first smell of blood. the need to claim, to conquer, make use of the fertile body under him. to eat. to feast.

in one fell swoop he was tugging down your underwear, yanking off the offending piece of fabric and flinging it to the floor. you hissed as your skin met the cool air, unused to being so exposed in your vulnerable state. “there she is. come ‘ere.” there was no experimental lick, no hesitation at the sight of blood. ghost went from one battlefield to another, preferring bloodshed over the silence of domesticity.

he started at your outer lips, practically cleaning you up, movements made for his taste and not your pleasure. blood coated his tongue, mixed with your seeping wetness. one final lick and he moved to your hole, winking at him, welcoming him home. his hands pressed your back upwards, crooked nose set against your clit. “bloody perfect.” he chuckled at his own joke, chuckled at how your body was already shaking under him. he tongue-fucked you expertly, sloppily eating you up. the blood mixed with cum made a pretty pink on his pale skin, fingers digging into your back as he pulled you impossibly closer. the tension in your core was getting harder to ignore with every lick, every time he said here she is and some welcome home, dove. he moved the bottom of his palm to press down on your clit, rubbing his nose in it, and you were coming, core clenching around nothing as your body emitted the loudest sounds. “ther we go, com’ on.” whispers of encouragement to your cunt, thick fingers joining in to coax another orgasm. one turned into two, your slippery pussy welcoming him in desperately. all whiny under his touch, squirming as he banded the other arm to hold down your stomach.

“nowhere ta fly, dove.” that didn’t stop you from trying, hips bucking into the air as he added a third finger. you were unbelievably full, stretched out like his personal fucktoy. he changed the angle, reaching deeper with calm strokes as he found the spot to make you crazy, gummy walls touching his rough calluses. he beckoned inside you, like he was telling you to come here, and you did, cunt clamping around his fingers.

“simon, simon it’s too much i-“ he shook his head, making that beckoning motion again. you spasmed even more, months of tension releasing under him. “there we go, she jus’ needed sum attention, yeah? not working with your own fingers, hm?” you nodded your head, agreeing with him passionately. “gonna split ya with my cock soon, see ya all fucked out.” your lips formed a small “o”, the crassness leaving his mouth like it needed to be washed with soap. “‘s get you to a shower, dove. go’on.” you scrambled out of his arms, clothes forgotten on the floor as you flew for the safety of your bathroom. he knew his dove too well, knew you needed some option to fly away and recoup before going farther. he’d spent all of deployment thinking about you, tugging his cock in shared showers and metal-framed cots. simon cleaned off his fingers one by one, savoring the metallic taste as he fixed the mess you made. he’d order a new couch tomorrow, something that could fit more than two, five being ideal. he’d fuck you on his cock tomorrow, once you’d knocked all of those thoughts around your head enough to pass out in his arms. but for now, he’d settle for the pink stain on his chin and your taste on his lips.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod 141 #ghost call of duty #tornadothoughts #simon riley smut #ghost imagine #ghost smut #ghost riley #dark!simon riley #mean!simon riley #ghost headcanons #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x f reader

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lurochar · 3 days

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His Baker

Human!Alastor x Baker!Reader headcanons

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Alastor had heard about you through his co-workers at the radio station. They had even brought a box of baked goods to share among each other.

He's not a fan of sweets, but even he admits your beignets are quite tasty.

You became an overnight sensation, despite only having worked in your father’s bakery for a few months.

Your kind demeanor and pretty looks plus your fantastic baking skills have earned you many suitors.

You’re flattered, sure, but not looking for a partner as you are content with your life for the time being.

Then Alastor Hartfelt shows up.

He's an interesting fellow, you have to admit, and you do listen to his radio shows when you can, but you're not starstruck as so many are when they find out who he is.

That catches his attention.

He mentions he doesn't care for sweets and you go out of your way to make other treats such as gingerbreads, coffee cakes, or lemons bars.

Out of your way, just for him

He insists on driving or walking you home as you usually get off work a few hours before his own shift starts at the radio station.

It becomes yours and his routine and people are beginning to talk since you and Alastor are seen together so much in public.

He cares not for rumours (and even perhaps enjoys them a little. You, the sweet little baker, his secret wife?) and tells you to ignore them as well.

Customers who get too rowdy or handsy with you tend to go missing, only to be found horribly mutilated later on and they are thought to be victims of the Bayou Butcher.

Just some poor souls in the wrong place at the wrong time. It had nothing to do with you, much to your relief (though you were still saddened. Those former customers didn't deserve that.)

You're thankful for Alastor's presence when he takes you home. Those murders gave you a reminder there's a killer on the loose.

Alastor would offer for you to stay at his house, but ultimately doesn't go through with it since it may be too forward of him.

You may be safe from the Bayou Butcher, but there are many degenerate men out there and who knows what could happen to you if he's not looking out for your well-being?

He stalks you in his free time, purely for your own safety of course.

He goes to your father not long after, using the unease in the air to manipulate the situation in his favour.

Your father has given him his blessing and you find yourself being courted by Alastor Hartfelt, much to your surprise.

It's not that you didn't like him, he was the perfect gentleman! You just thought you would have more time for yourself.

Alastor doesn't force you to quit (perhaps work less, however? He can support you fully and completely). His home is big and you can bake to your heart's content there.

He has totally fantasized about gruesome things. Are there any baking ingredients you can substitute with human parts?

What would the expression on your face be when you do eat that meat for the first time, even unknowingly?

Alastor feels a thrill at the thought and heat warming his body that's quite… unfamiliar to him.

As long as Alastor doesn't take away your autonomy, you're cozy enough in this relationship with him to continue on with it.

You teach him how to bake and he teaches you his cooking style. He's no pro, but he's got a talent for it.

It may take a long, long while before he ever tries to sneak human meat in your meals, even if the thought gets his blood going. You do know flavours, after all.

You and Alastor are married after a year and you are happy with life – after all, you got a handsome gentleman of a husband, a job you love, no financial issues, and a lovely home.

What could possibly go wrong?

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #human alastor x reader

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tac-the-unseen · 1 day

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Slapping Slasher's Ass and Running away!

Micheal Myers:

•He likes to believe he has complete control over his surroundings

•He likes to imagine himself as a Jaguar; opportunistic, stealthy, adaptable, and an Apex predator

•And then there's you, here to snap them back to reality

•If he's a leopard, you're an annoying bird that follows him

•All this made clear when He's just standing in the kitchen and feels a hard smack on his Ass

•He whips his head around to see you, running at full speed and giggling

•For a moment he's completely stunned

•But only for a moment

•He’s quick on your heels

•In less than 10 seconds he's holding you in the air by your shirt, like holding a cat by its scruff

•You can immediately tell through the mask how pissed he is

•But for a few seconds he just leaves you suspended in the air, and soon enough he makes his decision.

•He walks to your shared bedroom and drops you onto the bed

•You think you're in for some sexy-funtime

•That quickly washes away when Michael turns around and walk out the door

•When you get up to follow you find that he's locks you in by putting a chair under the handle

•This man is so sick of your shit, but loves you too much to actually harm you

•He just put you in time out while he waits for the stinging on his ass to go away

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•When the school day ends you're walking towards the front door, you spot both of your boyfriends walking towards the door too

•With the coast clear of teachers and most other students you knew what you had to do

•You rub your hands together diabolically and begins to run towards them

•when you're finally in the perfect position, you wind your hands back and as hard as you can, you slap their ass

•They both tense up and freeze

•When they see you running past them and laughing, they are quick to give chase

•They Chase you down the field and into the parking lot

•Stu was the one to tackle you onto the grass, making sure to protect your head when you fall

•Stu pins you down while Billy catches up

•When (a winded) Billy reaches you two he drops to his knees and starts tickling you

•Neither boy takes to seriously and think it's a playful invention to rough house and playfully fight

Thomas Hewitt:

•While he was meticulously cutting up some cow legs, you spotted a golden opportunity

•Thom’s fat ass in perfect position

•After circling him, carrying the same box of tools, you decide to go for the kill

•”Tommy!” You shout while running past him

•Your hand makes firm contact with the side of his rear

•You leave a blazing trail up the stairs while Thom processes what happened

•Thom watches you run away while his ass stings

•At most he's confused

•He just goes back to work

Bubba Sawyer:

•You were playing with him outside

•Running around, picking flowers, picking up pebbles, roughhousing

•While play fighting you slap is ass and run away hoping he would chase you

•instead he stands for confused

•after an awkward couple seconds, you realize he's not going to chase you, So you walk back to him

•You ask if He's okay and realize his eyes is watering

•After a frantic apology and check over You managed to figure out that he's not hurt

•Bubba Just associates spanking with being bad/bad behavior

•He was upset because he thought you were punishing him for being too rough

•You made it up to him by making him a flower crown

Bo Sinclair:

•This could go one of two ways

•He could be really into it OR he could freak out

•It depends on what mood you catch him in

•One day he'll think it's sexy and want you to do it again

•The next he'll have a PTSD attack remembering his childhood

•It's honestly best if you keep your hands to yourself

Vincent Sinclair:

•He honestly thought you did it by accident

•He didn't understand that you were trying to play

•He didn't react at all

•You have to tell him what you're trying to do

•He gets very embarrassed about not understanding that he kind of shut down for the day

•He remains hunched over on his desk for the rest of the day

Lester Sinclair:

•It honestly doesn't matter what you do to Lester, He's just happy you're giving him attention

•The man is the definition of a puppy

•He's just happy to be here

•So if you want to play a game of Chase, He’lll Chase

•As soon as you slap and run away he's hot on your heels

•He chases you through a field and down the roads

•When he catches you he's out of breath and takes a second to dry heave

•Then he'll hug and kiss you while walking back to the Truck

Billy Lenz:

•Billy is one of the characters you Can not hit

•You think he'd be into to quick slap, but he has the opposite reaction

•He thinks you're planning on hurting him And will either attack you or hide

•If he chooses to attack, You're likely going to have to hold him down until he calms

•If he hides, leave him alone

•trying to find him would be like walking into a coyote's den

•eventually he'll come back out because you're the only person that still talks to him

•He figures it's better to be physically abused than be lonely

•Good luck explaining that it was just a joke

Brahms Heelshire:

•He was acting up after you told him the grocery boy was coming today

•He was whining about how you don't need to interact with him and how the help shouldn't be seen or heard

•You remind them that you're technically ‘the help’ and he pouts on the couch

•When the doorbell rings he immediately jumps up to try to stop you

•You have a light bulb moment

•You get closer, reach around, and slap his ass

•You almost immediately push past him to run to the door

•Brahms is quick to follow, but not quick enough

•You swing open the door before Brahms can reach you

•He hides just in time, and proceeds to stew behind the door.

Hannibal Lecter:

•While he was cooking up some breakfast you come up behind him and hug him

•He greets you and continues to cook

•You two have a lazy conversation while you lean your head against his shoulders

•Deciding he's not pay enough attention to you come up with a plan

•You steal one of his knives, slap his ass, and bolt out of the kitchen

•He gives you about a 5-second Head start before he begins his hunt

•In that time He turns off the stove and allows himself time to find you

•He slowly starts his prowl

•Checking doors, behind furniture, around the stairs, and behind curtains

•When he finds you, he pounces and pulls you into a pinning hug

•He forces the knife from your hand and kisses your forehead

•”Let me finish breakfast, then I'll spend time with you.”

Will Graham:

•While on the world's most boring fishing trip (Will Even admitted this trip sucked) You watch as no lines get tugged

•board out of your mind you decide to at least mess around

•While Will was leaning over to check his lines you slap his ass as hard as to can, which throws him into the calm river

•You howl with laughter as Will get thrown overboard

•When he resurfaces we comes back up with a scowls on his lips, but a playful look in his eyes

•”You suck” he chuckles while you help him back in

•As soon as he's on board, he throws you into the water and laughs

The Lost Boys:

•All the boys are up for a good chase, But they all have different reactions

•David

-Slapping David's ass takes balls

-As soon as you try to run he has you by the arm

-He smirks and pulls you towards him

-”Oh-ho-ho, where do you think you're going?”

-If you play your cards right he'll let you go to properly chase you

-All’s well and good before he flies at you like a hawk

•Dwayne

-He'll let you run away But as soon as you're out of sight the game is on

-It doesn't matter where you're at

-The boardwalk, the cave, the forest, the beach

-He sprints and tackles you to the floor

-”Did you honestly believe you could outrun a vampire?” He muses

-could turn playful, could turn romantic

•Paul

-as soon as your hand collides with his ass, he shrieks

-He playful pretends he's wounded

-He writhes on the ground, cries fake tears, hand over forehead

-”Why should you do this to me!”

-”I thought you loved me!”

-Walks around all day telling his brothers that you abuse him

-gives you love bites while telling his tale of woe

•Marko

-when you slap his ass he lets out a moan that causes both of you to freeze

-after a few seconds Marko whips around

-”Tell no one.” He says in a completely serious voice

-You know for a fact the other would make fun of him for the rest of his unnatural life

-Every time you're behind him, he turns around to face you So it never happens again

Thanks for reading <3

Sorry this took so long! I've had a busy week!

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lightlycareless · 22 hours

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Naoya's reaction when y/n's thighs expand 3 times its size when she sits down. For my girlie's that have thick thighs 🙏🙏 plus me. Serious insecurity but damn wouldn't that be Naoya's 2nd favourite thing after tiddies. Definitely would give some criticism that y/n don't exercise enough and that's why her thighs are like that,but would br also smother his face between her thighs? Yes

Hello anon!!

Ngl when I first read this ask (the beginning) I was like HUH? But then I read the rest and was like ugh same. I kind of relate to what you feel, that plus chafing and what not 💀

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy this debauched piece. :) ehehehe dunno what was going through my head but I liked it.

warnings: NSFW. THOUGH NOT DETAILED, THERE'S SMUT. MINORS DNI. Naoya and the Zen'in are perverts, some more explicit than others. Also misogynistic views, unwanted commentary about bodies.

Happy reading!

You know what I was thinking?

Naoya being so obsessed with your body, that the moment he sees you he doesn’t even bother to make formal introductions or anything; nope.

He just needed to see you sit down one time, one time, unwittingly getting a very detailed look of how your thighs just become bigger underneath your skirt, alongside the adorably cute way you attempted to tug the edge down to avoid revealing too much (Naoya had seen more than enough at that point, of course he did.) and that was it for him to know you’d be the perfect wife.

So, fast forward a few weeks, after making the right arrangements, you’re effectively married to him, “happily” living in the Zen’in estate, where he can keep an eye on you, close to whenever he might need to make use of your wifely commitments—but most importantly, underneath constant scrutiny that not even your role as future Lady of the House could save you from.

The torments you’re subjected to here aren’t ones you haven’t heard before, in fact, you’ve heard enough of them to not care anymore…

But perhaps being married to Naoya, something that many cautioned would probably never happen due to your appearance, was enough to finally make them hurt.

His family just couldn’t… wrap their mind around the fact that from all women in the world, literally anyone else, he chose you: the epitome of laziness as they’d like to say. The sheer example of not being able to control one’s selfish desires in favor of temporary satisfaction.

In a world where thinner, athletic physiques were encouraged, you sure stood out like a sore thumb.

It wasn’t your fault, though. Some people were simply born that way, with different genetics and there was nothing wrong with that.

But to them, that was not enough of an excuse, if there ever was one; and once you heard for the last time how Naoya was simply tolerating you because, well, because of some unknown reason, you had enough.

You were tired of constantly hearing them belittling your worth, comparing you to whichever woman they brought along to hopefully convince Naoya into divorcing you—or at least sow his seeds on a more suitable candidate; a fact made worse when he seemingly didn’t put a resistance to their invitations, chipping away at your confidence.

And above all, you were exhausted of unwittingly highlighting the faults in your relationship, the clear signs that Naoya was never truly happy with you, such as those scarce moments of intimacy the two shared. Those that you didn’t think much of, outside of fear and pain, for he never struck you to be the kind, patient lover (and he wasn’t).

But now that these issues were highlighted… you could only feel sorrowful.

Naoya, while insatiable when it comes to lust, seemed to have only spent the night with you for political reasons. To fulfill his duty of securing the future of the Zen’in—not because he ever harbored desire for you.

Yet, why did you even expect otherwise? For he too demeaned you with cruel commentaries, and with the one thing you were mostly self-conscious about…

“You know, your thighs wouldn’t be that big if you actually worked out or something…”

“Don’t wear that. I don’t want you to show your legs—it’s already unbefitting a woman, but in your case… well, it’s only necessary.”

That was more than enough to finally push you to the edge and do the one thing many were constantly pestering you about: not to eat. Though in your defense, it’s not like you felt like doing so anyways, the voices and faces of those that hurt you were quick to put you back in your place if you even did as little as consider it, ruining your appetite.

And you managed to keep this way for a few days, at least until you began to grow sick, tired, unable to tend to your duties as you did before, which did not escape your staff’s attention, and subsequently, Naoya’s.

“What the fuck is wrong with you??” Naoya would exclaim first thing upon returning from a mission; tired. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with the complaints of your lacking commitment, the only goddamn thing you had to do around the estate. “To go ahead and cause problems to my family, taint my name—have you got no shame?!”

“I didn’t mean to…” you murmur, yourself tired as well, due for other reasons, made worse by Naoya’s reproach.

“Then do you mind explaining what the hell were you thinking? What were you planning to do? Get my attention??” He frowns. “Dramatic, but what else could I expect from a woman like you?”

“Please, Naoya… I don’t feel like arguing…”

“No, of course not. You don’t feel like doing anything, do you? Not even eating!” He remarked. “What? Trying to lose some weight, now? Is that what’s gotten into your mind?”

You remain silent, giving him enough of an answer. He laughs.

“So it is that!” He boasts. “I can’t believe it, Y/N! I didn’t think you’d be so stupid to actually do that!”

“Leave me alone…” you whisper, tears beginning to pool around your eyes.

“To what? Puke your guts out, now? Don’t be stupid!” Naoya continues to jest. “I knew women were desperate, but I didn’t think you’d break the mold!”

His words, perhaps out of your already brewing insecurities, or simply because you’ve grown tired of his mockery, wash you over with an unprecedented wave of anger, dropping your heart to the pit of your stomach as you sharply turn around, ready to take a stand for yourself once and for all.

“And why do you care so much, hm, Naoya?!” You cry. “Weren’t you also one of those that always bothered me about my weight? About how embarrassing I am to your name simply because of the way I look?!”

He flinches, startled by your reaction at first, but soon angered by it as well.

“I won’t tolerate your disrespect—” he frowns, yet you don’t let him continue.

“You even ask me to cover myself up!” you gasp. “You’re so—you’re so disgusted by how I look that you—you wouldn’t mind if I spent the rest of my life locked away so you won’t ever have to see—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Naoya seethes, taking your hand and pulling you to him with such strength that instantly startles you, making you squirm in reaction, trying to move away but he keeps you still, understanding you’ve officially made him furious. “Do you hear the stupidities you’re spewing?!”

“Leave—leave me alone.” You whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks. “You’re hurting me!”

“I ought to hurt you more for insulting me!”

“Insulting… you?” you repeat, confused. “How was this insulting to you?!”

“You think I’d let you walk around the estate like a whore? Let you display what’s mine?!”

“Naoya, you’re not—you’re not making any sense.” You respond, shame settling in your heart. “If you’re going to make fun of me—!”

“You’re fucking stupid, did you know that?” Is all that he says before pushing you against the wall, making you whimper when roughly hitting the wooden pillar behind, a noise that is quickly shut by his lips landing on yours, wasting no time for his tongue to battle yours, subduing you. “So fucking stupid…”

He’d murmur, you moan.

“Na—Naoya—” you breathe, torn apart by his desire and your confusion. Didn’t he… dislike you? “St—stop!”

“What is it that you wanted me to do? Stand aside as my family ogles at you?!”

“Don’t you mean—don’t you mean scrutinize?!” you gasp, flinching when his lips move from yours, down to your jaw, then neck… “Stop—stop mocking me!”

“I should feel offended by your stupidity, if anything.” He responds, pulling away from you to take a good look into your teary eyes—as if trying to assess if you really declared such atrocity, or if it was work of his own anguished mind. “Your blindness to acknowledge what I truly think of you.”

“They—they hate me.” You tremble, why would he want you to remember such an awful thing? “You hate me—”

“No, Y/N.” Naoya groans, pressing closer to you while taking your hand once more to move it down to his groin where his hardening cock was in full display for you to feel, destroying the perceptions you had of everything around you—around him. “This is what you make them feel— what you make me feel!”

“Nao—Naoya—” you tremble, trying to move away your hand from his growing length, intimidated that he somehow felt even bigger underneath your palm; giving the impression his desire for you right now was much stronger than any other instances. But… how? Or more likely, Why? “I don’t—I don’t get it—!”

“Do you really think I’d be blind to the way they stare at you? To their futile attempts of bringing you down, of changing you, just so they’d stop thinking what your skin feels like underneath their fingertips—or how sweet your cunt tastes like?” Naoya breathed, continuing to rub your hand against his cock, desperate to let you know how much he needs his release—how he wants to throw this senseless discussion away…

But not without declaring his upper hand, the one he always had with his family, of course. “But they can’t” He smirks. “The moment I saw you, I knew you’d be the perfect wife, the perfect mother for my children.”

The thought of harboring such desire from Naoya made your cunt tighten, the same way his cock twitches.

“They’re just jealous I got to you first.” He continues. “That I was able to see your worth just by your wide hips and ample bosom—you’re the epitome of femininity… but even better—

You’re all mine.”

“But you—but you said horrible things to me—” you cry, his lascivious words still not enough to remove the pain from those awful moments. “Why…?”

“Aw, my love.” Naoya chuckles, cupping your face with his hands and squeezing it so softly, making you pout, a face he always loved to incite from you, amongst others. “I just can’t help it; your reactions are so adorable; you simply make it too easy.”

His hands then travel down to the edges of your skirt, lifting your kimono just enough to reveal your smooth legs to him, the same ones he always had touch and kneed whenever you were close, the mere sight of them enough to make him further spiral into his desire—

If not anger when seeing the flimsy piece of cloth covering your cunt, fingers quick to grab the edge and rip it apart, letting out a quick gasp from your mouth.

“How many times have I told you to stop wearing these stupidities?!” He hisses. “You know damn well than to go against the words of your own husband!”

“But you—you hadn’t touched me.” You fret. “Since that night, we… you hadn’t—I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“You truly couldn’t be any dumber, could you? Just because I’ve been busy does that mean you can go on and disobey my words?” Naoya accuses with a jesting tone that serves to place the direction of his following actions. “My lovely wife is really that naive… luckily for you, I’m the one in charge of doing all the thinking, while you—you just have to stay like this, ready for me…

To take my cock like the good whore of a wife you are, with that lewd body of yours that is only mine. Exclaiming for me to give you a baby, make you a mother, make your hips wider, your breasts bigger, filled milk—”

And the way your body tightens against him, letting out a moan when his hands parted your legs, guiding his cock onto your dampened slit and gently pushed the head into you, let’s him know this desire has settled in the back of your mind for quite some time, but never revealed itself by the stupidities of his own family, his too undeniably.

But after these agonizing days away from you, forced so by his job, if not those insignificant whores his family brought in an attempt to push him away from you, failing to do so for he quickly discarded them as soon as they crossed his sight…

He’ll never let the opportunity to claim you pass again.

Naoya will do whatever necessary to drill that idea into that little, pathetic mind of yours, even if it means fucking you in the middle of the hallway, where all servants and relatives alike would be able to hear his message loud and clear.

The reality they could only dream of in their most desperate moments—but to him, it was only a matter of taking.

“Naoya—Naoya please—not here.” You whimper, your husband had effectively forced you onto the ground and made you take his cock, either from behind, hands and knees on the wooden floor as he teased and kneaded your ass and hips; he was an avid enjoyed of many positions, but this one had to be one of his favorite ones. To see your skin bounce whenever his hips slammed into you, savoring the way your lewd cunt swallowed him whole, down to the base, with no intentions of letting go, regardless of what you said, it was surprising he still had some restraint. “Please—they’re—they’re going to see!”

“Let them.” Naoya moans, the thought of being caught sends a shiver through his spine; and while it’s not something he necessarily advocated for, the constant, tiring need to be proving his authority over you is what forced him to do so. You might as well play along. “Let them hear how tight your cunt is around my cock! How only I can make you come undone like this—”

“N—No—I don’t—I don’t want…!” you whimper, but even when he changed positions, having you on top of him, giving him sight of the breasts he couldn’t wait to see grow when you’re inevitably pregnant, you still do not stop jumping on his cock, moving your hips up and down alongside his, clenching whenever hitting that sensitive spot that always had you seeing stars. “I don’t want to cum—!”

“Then maybe—Maybe you shouldn’t have this lewd body.” Naoya moans, truly believing that he would never be able to stop himself from using every inch of your body for his own pleasure—from fucking his cock between your soft thighs and boobs, admiring the way they completely cover his cock, drowning it in a combination of softness and his own seed, barely able to see where the tip of his head was…

To relieve that same sensation with his own face, asking you—no, demanding you to smother him with your thighs, a sensation that has him thinking if he were to die this way, cock hard, eased by your soft licks and moans, while deep in the sweet taste of your cunt, he wouldn’t mind it, not one bit.

In fact, he hopes that’s the way he goes.

But he’s in no rush to avoid enjoying the present, the warmth of your body besides him when the two eventually stop, careless to acknowledge if they ever gathered an audience, certainly so when Naoya’s mind was firmly set in getting you pregnant, as heard by his following words.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He declares. “It’s about time you give me a heir.”

And you do nothing but oblige, though you doubted all the cum nestled inside your cervix hadn’t done the job already.

In fact, you relished the idea. If it meant getting this side of Naoya’s desire, attention you didn’t think to be deserving of, or even capable of obtaining…. Then you were nothing but obedient.

“Naoya, you’re—oh!” You gasp when instead of waiting for you to stand up to properly greet him, he lowers down to your level, taking a seat before eventually resting his head over your lap, taking a deep sigh and resting for the first time after a long week of work. “Is… everything alright?”

“I’m tired.” He responds, adjusting himself into an even better position and sighing once more. “I don’t want to talk.”

So, you don’t, preferring instead to softly caress his head, moving some of his silky black threads away from his face and letting him relax, enough to dive into the beginnings of his slumber, but not before clearing his mind from one doubt.

“Our baby—”

“He’s fine.” You murmur, placing your hand over your stomach. It’s still very early during the pregnancy to know so, and yet, there was something about you that just made it so obvious that you were carrying a life inside you—

Perhaps it was the way you glowed, or how you became softer with him ever since it was first announced.

Though the latter was mostly the fact that you started to feel… wanted by your husband, a kind of desire that while far from perfect, was enough for you to change your perspective of this marriage, allowing you to open up to him, mostly so when Naoya now defended you from those unwanted comments from his family.

You’re carrying the future of the Zen’in, after all, some decorum must be maintained.

Yet something tells you his changed demeaner ran far deeper than what Naoya wanted to reveal. «All in due time» you suppose.

“I love you, and our baby too.” You say, instinctively taken by this calm moment of domesticity with your loving husband, not expecting a response considering his somewhat cold nature—only to be proven wrong when he turns around to see you, silently placing his gaze on yours in such way that initially makes you think you might’ve ruined this moment, just for him to pull you closer to him, taking your lips in a soft, quick kiss before returning to your lap, closing his eyes and sleeping.

He may not have said it, but the sentiment was the same, and that was enough for you to be happy.

Naoya is still a jerk, but I like to think he eventually got to genuinely care about you. Also, he got real lucky that one time he thought with his dick, imagine if you were a piece of shit too? NAH He'd lose it. He got real lucky that you were nice, I tell you...

Also, I'm still with the pregnancy stuff :) sorrynotsorry.

OH! and also!! It's safe to say that the things Naoya said are NOT a reflection of what I think!! Everybody is beautiful and deserving of love, no matter what body type ❤️

Now, thank you so much for sending this niche ask... I gotta say, I have been thinking about it since I do relate to it............... but I try to keep my work pretty open-ended so anyone can relate :) Still, if there's something you'd like me to write a bit more detailed, just let me know! I'll be sure to try my best tho, some I might reject if I don't feel like I know much about the matter....

Anyways, thank you so much for this ask ❤️ take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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cherry-romper · 6 hours

Text

Being Friends Would Include

+ Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Iida, Momo, Jirou, Mina, Ochaco, Asui, Mirio, Amajiki, Aizawa, Hawks, All Might, Dabi, Twice, Compress, Shiguraki

Midoriya;

Absolutely down to help you with anything, he never asks for anything in return either.

Although, he does sometimes ask for you to spar with him. He admires you abilities in combat and thinks with your help he'll be able to get better at a rate he's happy with. Plus, its an excuse to hang out with you more.

Sometimes he has moments of vulnerability, thinking he isn't improving fast enough. You're apart of the select few he allows to see those moments.

An absolute dork. Will info dump at any moment, about the most niche subjects. You're happy to sit and listen to him yap but sometime his ability to talk at length without stuttering scares you.

Bakugou;

He's quite most of the time. He likes hanging out in groups of three or more so he doesn't have to actually speak and he's free to just listen and observe.

You and Kirishima are his closest friends, so you can often be found on days off convincing Bakugou to come with you to the mall. To which he always replies so politely, something along the lines of: "I'd rather die. Get out of my face, morons, you're pissing me off!" Isn't he just so sweet?

You absolutely match his wit. If he throws an insult at you, you throw a worse one back. If he raises his voice, you raise yours. So does Aizawa.

Its one of the reasons he became friends with you in the first place; your spunk. He liked that you knew you were strong, and didn't let anyone tell you otherwise. You were also able to take the criticism without feeling sad, something he envied.

Todoroki;

Keeps to himself a lot. Not much of a socialiser. A homebody at heart.

Forces himself to hang out when invited though. When he does he often finds himself drifting to you, your precents helping to calm him down.

The worst texter on the planet. So blunt it hurts. "yeah." "ok." "sure." "be there." "on the way." He also someone who responds immediately or 3 weeks later. He's not on his phone often, and he has it muted a lot because of his dad.

Nowhere near as polite as people think he is. Absolutely lives by "respect is earned, not given". He just has issues with social cues at times.

He's also incredibly chill. Likes to get his work done asap so he can relax and read manga.

Kirishima;

Work out together are a MUST. "If you're not doing anything later, why don't we hit the gym?!"

He's such a 50/50. one minute he's so cool and is able to deal with issues, the next he gets all flustered and babbles on about what he could have done better.

That's a BIG thing with Kiri, he doesn't care about being perfect, perfect is just a concept. He cares about being better. Better than he was yesterday. Better than he was last week. Better than he's ever been. If he's not constantly improving, he gets REALLY down.

Does not let anyone see his down moments, that would not be manly. You find him one day, crying to himself because his quirk envy was SOARING. He gave you that bs of not wanting you to see him cry coz its "not manly", you smacked the back of his head telling hi to stfu and let you comfort him.

Kaminari;

Dork.

You're actually dumb and dumber. Tweedledum and Tweedledee if you will.

Doesn't have too many doubts or reservations about becoming a hero. Not that he's not capable of those emotions, I just think he doesn't see the point in getting so down about it and much prefers just fixing an issue asap.

A very expressive texter. Will use GIFs, memes, emojis and copy pastas for everything. He has a folder saved. His memes are more organised that his course work.

Sero;

You share manga. Even read it together sometimes.

Always puts you on the BEST music. He has playlists for EVERY emotion known to man. Has them labelled like 'pining (v.)' 'stargazing (n.)' 'content (adj.).

The chillest guy in the world. Will not make a big deal out of anything because he sees no need for it.

Still is absolutely down to mess around and have a laugh even if it get you in trouble. Its all apart of the memory for him.

Iida;

The sweetest and politest person to ever exist. Ever.

He can often be found reading. Will not even notice he's humming in agreement when he reads something he likes. The occasional "ah, I see" when he's doing his academics.

Not the best with social cues, but still isn't as bad as people make him out to be. Can absolutely take a joke, he just cares a lot about being a hero.

This boy is a family man through and through, will talk about his brother when he gets the chance. It weighs on him that he now has to uphold the name Ingenium, but you offer him advice and peace when he gets all worked up.

Momo;

A classy girl, but she's still down to do whatever her friends suggest. If they want to go to the mall then sure, she'll go, but you'll find her in a café about 20 minutes into shopping.

She's a people watcher, not too big on socialising. Often finds her closest friends in crowds

Has the most detailed routines. Her bathing takes about 1-2 hours, she has an extensive list of products she uses. If you have a skin issue, or a problem with your body, she know exactly what product to use to help. She even known the cheaper alternatives.

Big tea drinker, often brings a flask to school full of something to help her focus.

Jirou;

Down for anything, anytime, all the time. Literally the definition of "sure thing".

Not the best in big crowds, but plays it off.

She has such a good music taste - listens to everything, with a preference for rock.

Writes music all the time, you're always the first person to hear it. She loves when you give her advise on how to improve. This also translates into hero work too. If she gets a new move, she is so excited to show you.

Mina;

The extrovert of all extroverts.

Huge on music and dance. She cannot get enough on 2000's clubbing music, but she's also a sucker for 90's hip-hop.

Also really into fashion and shopping. You always get invited to the mall with her.

She's the one who set up the group chats and often taken the lead when it comes to organising things outside of school - Iida and Momo take care of the school stuff.

She needs help a lot with her work, finds it really hard to focus for long periods of time. Group study sessions help her out the most.

Ochaco;

Such a pure soul.

She's so incredibly strong willed, it almost bugs you how she's able to bite her tongue at times.

A lot like Todoroki in the sense that, as sweet as she is, she absolutely doesn't take any shit. Is nowhere near as polite as people say. She'll give everyone the same respect she wants to see retuned. If someone did something to make her lose respect, she'll lose all of it all at once. Which is why she has to bite her tongue a lot.

You, her and mina have the nastiest gossip sessions. You all put the world to rights at god-knows-o'clock in the morning. "I mean, did you see the dirty look she gave me? what more did she want me to do?"

Asui;

Loves hanging out in groups so she doesn't really have to contribute to the conversation. The best listener.

although she can get lost in her own thoughts when you're talking to her. She'll apologise profusely when you bring her back to reality. Doesn't mean she wasn't listening, just means she was overthinking what you said to her.

Saying that, she's able to focus up really well in lessons.

She'll ask you to go on walks with her when she needs to clear her head, she finds comfort in your company and is happy to walk with you in silence.

Mirio;

You're never not laughing around him. Bring joy with him everywhere.

Has the worst dad jokes known to man. Sometimes they're so bad you just have to stare at him in disbelief.

Down for anything all the time. You often have to convince him not to do things.

Even though he's big on humour, he's not the best at sarcasm. Sometimes he will take things literally, it won't bum him out, but he will feel a little sour,

Amajiki;

HATES group settings, but also kinda likes them because he can slip away a lot easier.

Hangs out at home but loves when you can all just sit and chill together. Likes movie nights or just reading manga together in silence.

Mario often drags the two of you away from whatever you're both doing to go for a walk or something. He's not gonna make either of you do anything you don't want to do, but he pushes you to get out of your comfort zone as much as possible.

You have silly inside jokes that no one else understands.

Aizawa;

He's a busy man, but he tries to make time where he can.

He often just likes being in your company. Your chill with just sitting in silence doing your own respective things, but he also love to just listen to you yap as you talk about your day.

Tricket man. He likes little sentimental things. 100% has a memory box (most of it is of you).

A silent Carer, but he cares so deeply it makes his heart ache.

Not big on hugging but will give them when you need them.

Hawks;

As charming as he is on the surface. You might be the only one he's talked to at length about his trauma. Best Jeanest knows about his trauma, but you understand.

Will take you a flights around the city. He loves the cityscape at night so he'll take you to the top of a building and talk with you as you watch everyone's lights turn out.

He will also take you above the clouds when the suns setting, its the most breathtaking sight. He gets to watch something so beautiful, while holding you close. Its a win-win. Even if he's not meant to be doing it.

He's often busy, so he'll leave you little notes and/or gifts when he happens to fly past your apartment window.

Will jumpscare you at night, coming to your window mildly injured, seeking your comfort.

All Might;

Big jokester but can take thing serious when needed.

Loves giving out hugs, especially in his muscle form.

You were one of the first people to find out about his power and its secret. You were also one of the first people he saved, and in turn you'd managed to save his mental when he was going through his worse moments.

Changed your phone ringtone to match his as a prank. You never changed it back.

Dabi;

A man of few words. Values silence but also likes deep talks, especially when your views align with his own.

You met when he was out recruiting for the LOV. You were the only one who didn't fold or become hostile immediately when he showed himself.

Not insecure about his scars, finds them like trophies. Still, he's not a fan if he catches you staring.

Doesn't really laugh, most you'll get is a nose exhale or a smirk. He just enjoys things more internally.

Twice;

Most confusing dude, but you're so patient and understanding with him which he is so grateful for.

Not a leader, prefers to tag along with you when you go out recruiting. Often messes things up when he contradicts himself when he talks, but if someone insults him, you have no problem cutting them down.

You bonded over you care for your friends. You called it found family, and he lost his mind over that term.

You carry an extra mask of his around in case he ever needs it.

Mr. Compress;

The most dramatic guy.

Adores flamboyance, and likes when you put on a show if you're fighting.

He sneaks you into the theatre with his quirk. You both bond over musicals and you introduce him to some musical movies.

Brings you breakfast and the like when he can. Loves being able to serve.

Shigaraki;

Obsessive to a fault. You're one of the only people he confides in about his mission.

He trusted you from the moment you walked through the door. You were rational enough to see his plan, whilst still having your own agenda.

You also weren't afraid of his quirk, happily touching him when you laughed and joked.

Often found himself staring at you as your stirred up conversation with Toga and Twice. Dabi noticed his staring and having him glare. That was the only time Tomura ever felt embarrassed.

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vanteguccir · 4 hours

Text

Traitor | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Y/N and Matt are in a complicated relationship, where Matt is still stuck in the past with his ex. In an angsty pathway, Y/N suffers when she realizes that Matt will never love her as she wants.

Warning: Crying, panic attack, comparison, ANGST.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N adjusted her stunning dress in front of the mirror. The bright red silk fabric hugged her curves in a way she knew would make heads turn that night. Her hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, meticulously styled by her curling iron, and her makeup highlighted her features impeccably.

There was a palpable excitement in the air, an expectation of Matt's reaction; she always expected to receive showers of praise from her boy, just as she did for him. The party they were about to go to - a fancy one that celebrated the launch of the new Space Camp line - would be the perfect opportunity to show everyone, and especially him, how hard she worked to be perfect.

The low sound of the bedroom door's handle turning sounded through the silence, Matt's figure appearing through the wooden frame, and all Y/N could feel as she watched him through the mirror's reflection was her racing heart. He looked stunning in his black suit, the crooked tie relaxing the seriousness of his attire.

She waited for the compliment, for the spark in his eyes that would confirm that all the effort had been worth it.

"You look beautiful, Y/N." Blue eyes traveled over her body for some seconds, but before she could absorb the joy of that moment, he finished. "Did you know that Amanda has a dress similar to yours?"

Y/N felt her stomach tighten painfully as her heart felt like it was being broken by a hammer three times its size. Amanda. Always Amanda. Matt's ex-girlfriend was a constant shadow between them, a specter that Y/N could never completely dispel.

She forced a smile, swallowing the anguish rising in her throat.

"Oh, really?" Was all she could say, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands shaking slightly at the side of her hips.

Later that day, the party continued with Y/N by Matt's side, but her mind was far away. Every time someone praised her, she remembered Matt's comment. Even surrounded by people and with Matt by her side, she felt incredibly alone.

Her thoughts revolved around a single question: Why couldn't he see her for who she was instead of always comparing her to Amanda?

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A few weeks later, a new day brought a new blow. Matt was in his shared room with Y/N, sitting in his gaming chair with his upper body resting on the wooden surface, his hands on his Macbook, busy answering emails sent to the triplets' mail.

Y/N entered quietly, carrying two glasses full of fresh watermelon juice, knowing that Matt would definitely be thirsty and hungry after hours of sitting there. But as she got closer, she saw his computer screen. The messaging app was open, and the open window wasn't just any texts — it was old conversations between Matt and Amanda.

He read them with a melancholic smile, his eyes shining with a longing that Y/N knew all too well.

"Matt..." Her voice came out in an involuntary whisper, the broken tone sounding louder than it was expected.

The boy startled, closing the laptop quickly.

"Babe, hey, you scared me!" The boy turned around suddenly, clearing his throat and laughing awkwardly, trying to look casual. "I was just... clearing out some old stuff."

Y/N just nodded, the pain growing inside her chest.

"It's fine. Here, I made this for you." She raised her hand that held the fullest glass, smiling brokenly and keeping her eyes open, taking note on how Matt didn't notice the tears shining in her orbs or pretended not to.

She knew he was lying. She knew he was stuck in the past, that Amanda still dominated his thoughts and his heart. But once again, she chose to ignore it, to stifle her own suffering out of love for him.

Because losing Matt was a fear that outweighed any pain she might feel.

Right?

Right! Until things reached an unbearable point.

Y/N had an appointment at the beauty salon, something she did to feel a little more in control, a little more beautiful in a reality where she always felt insufficient. Matt said he couldn't accompany her, claiming he had videos to film with his brothers. She understood, or at least she tried.

It was Saturday, they didn't film on Saturday.

Sitting in the salon chair, while her nails were being done and her hair was treated, Y/N took out her phone to pass the time, holding the device awkwardly for fear of smudging her sparkling nail polish.

Scrolling through Instagram while her ears caught some conversations around the salon, her heart almost flew out of its place and up her mouth when she saw a photo that one of the celebrity gossip pages had just posted.

Matt was in a coffee shop with Amanda.

His smile was radiant, a kind of joy Y/N hadn't seen on his face in a long time. He looked so… complete, so genuinely happy.

Y/N felt the world come crashing down around her. Tears burned her eyes, but she held them back, looking around at all the other radiant women before turning her attention back to the news, clutching her cell between her left fingers, a low "sorry" scaping her lips when her right hand trembled against the manicurist ones.

She didn't give a shit that they were talking in a cafe, she didn't mind if they wanted to be friends again - even though she had destroyed Matt, and Y/N was the one to put him together again -, it was something else that bothered her.

Matt had lied to her. He said he was going to film. What the fuck was he doing out with Amanda?

But the truth was right there, raw and painful: Matt would never be fully hers. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she sacrificed, he would always be stuck in the past in the love he had for Amanda. He would always go back to her.

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing a smile as the manicurist applied red nail polish to her nails on her left hand. The color perfectly matched the feelings she felt at that moment; dark.

Every move by the salon professionals seemed like a desperate attempt to beautify her for someone who would never see her true beauty. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop her mind from going back to that image of Matt smiling with Amanda. It was a smile she could never get out of him.

"You look amazing, Y/N!" Cintia, the girl's hairdresser for years now, praised excitedly, straightening the last strands of hair just finished and turning the chair so that Y/N could see herself in the mirror. "Matt will love it."

Y/N looked at her reflection, but all she saw was an improved version of herself that, despite all her effort, would never be enough for Matt. She would always be just a shadow, a pale substitute.

"Thank you..." The girl tried to say, but her voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

The room around her seemed like a golden prison, full of mirrors that only reflected her internal pain. Every compliment, every word of encouragement, sounded hollow, meaningless, because the person whose opinion mattered most was, at that very moment, laughing and smiling with another woman; the woman he truly loved.

When Y/N finally left the salon, she felt exhausted, as if she had run an emotional marathon. She walked slowly to her home, opting not to call an Uber.

Her hands fished her phone out of her half-open purse, and, with trembling fingers decorated in red, she sent a text to Diana, her best friend.

"Diana, are you home? Can I sleep there tonight?"

As she waited for the answer, her mind wandered through a whirlwind of thoughts. The pain was constant but mixed with a new resolve.

She needed to get out of there. She needed space to breathe, to think.

"Of course, babes!"

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Getting home was an automatic process. The house she shared with the triplets seemed colder and more hostile than ever.

Y/N walked past the living room where Chris and Nick were sprawled awkwardly on the gray couch playing video games, their excited laughter, and screams a cruel contrast to the pain she felt.

"Y/N!" Nick smiled brightly when he saw his best friend out of the corner of his eye. "Want to play a round with us?"

"No thanks, Nick. I'm tired." She murmured, smiling wide and fake - even though he wasn't looking at her directly -, trying to appear normal.

She walked slowly down the path between the living room and kitchen, each step a reminder of what she was about to do.

Her hands worked automatically on the door, entering her shared room with Matt, closing it behind her, the sound of the lock clicking echoing like a period in her mind. She looked around, taking in the details that made the space a home - the photos on the wall, the personal items, the memories. But now, it all felt empty.

She grabbed a suitcase stored at the back of their shared closet and began filling it with her necessities. The simple act of opening the suitcase caused a wave of despair to hit her.

Every piece of clothing and every object that her hands roughly touched and threw blindly into the suitcase was a small stab in her heart. The tears finally started to stream down her face, and she didn't try to stop them. Reality was imposing itself in a cruel way.

Her movements became slower and slower, while his thoughts became more chaotic.

"I'll never be enough for him."

"I'll never be her."

"He'll never love me the way I love him."

"I'm destroying myself for someone who cares little about me."

"What did I do wrong?"

These thoughts repeated like a cruel mantra in her mind. She felt her breathing quicken. Her lungs seemed unable to take in enough air. The room, which had always been a refuge, now felt like an oppressive cell. Panic began to set in. Her chest felt tight, her hands shook, and the air seemed to escape.

The tears flowed like hot, relentless waterfalls. The suitcase was open in front of her, half full, but it seemed like an insurmountable abyss. Y/N tried to take a deep breath, but each attempt only resulted in more despair.

The sobs came strong and uncontrollable. The girl stopped in front of the bed, standing, after throwing the last piece taken by her hands, bending her upper body over the suitcase, gripping the edge of the thick fabric with such strength that it made her fingers take on a whitish color, fully throwing her weight on her arms as if they were a lifeboat in the middle of a storm.

"Why am I not good enough?"

"What is wrong with me?"

"Why can’t he love me?"

She felt completely alone, drowning in her own pain. The panic attack took over, stealing any trace of control she still had.

The walls of the room seemed to close in on Y/N, the contours of the furniture becoming indistinct and threatening as her breathing became increasingly rapid and shallow. Her heart hammered in her chest with an almost painful force, each beat ringing in her ears like deafening thunder. The air felt thick, sticky, and impossible to inhale properly.

"Am I really that hard to be loved?"

"I wish I was her."

"He was never mine, right?"

Her hands shook uncontrollably, her fingers tingling over her suitcase as a feeling of numbness spread through her arms. Sweat dripped down her forehead, leaving her feeling sticky and uncomfortable, while the cold began to spread throughout her body, generating incessant chills.

Her vision blurred, the edges of the room distorting into restless shadows that danced and pulsed, transforming the room into a place strangely familiar and frighteningly alien at the same time. Each sound seemed amplified and distant, the ones of laughter and the clicks of long and simple kisses played in memories in her head like a record player at its highest volume, creating a surreal echo that only intensified the feeling of isolation and despair.

Exhausted, Y/N let herself sink to the floor, her sobs echoing in the empty room, an expression of the pain and loneliness that she felt suffocating herself relentlessly. Her legs folded in front of her body, the front of her thighs sticking firmly against her stomach as her arms served as a shield for her head, her hands involuntarily going up to her own hair, gripping the strands tightly, trying to ground herself.

Meanwhile, Nick ran towards her and Matt's room with quick, excited steps. He had just finished the last round of his video game with Chris and was looking forward to seeing the outcome of Y/N's salon day, hoping it would make her happier after noticing the inconsistency in her voice when she got home.

His closed fist lightly knocked on the door before opening it, the smile on his face instantly disappearing as his eyes met the scene before him.

Y/N was on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, her hands now grabbing her arms in a desperate hug. Her face was wet with tears, her eyes wide and fixed on a distant, indistinct point. Her breathing was ragged, labored, as if she were trying to pull air through a narrow, clogged straw. The sound of her panting was interspersed with heavy sobs, creating a symphony of anguish that made Nick's heart tighten in his chest.

"Y/N!" Nick called, his voice thick with panic. But to Y/N, his words were like distant whispers, drowned out by the deafening noise of her own frantically beating heart.

Her mind was in a whirlwind of chaotic, disorganized thoughts, each competing for attention and increasing the feeling of panic. She felt trapped in an endless cycle of terror, unable to escape the downward spiral that consumed her.

The feeling of suffocation was overwhelming, as if an invisible weight was pressing down on her chest, making every desperate attempt to breathe difficult. The seconds seemed to stretch into a torturous eternity, each second carrying a new wave of fear and despair.

Nick ran up to her, the panic on his face intensifying by the second. He knelt beside Y/N, trying to find a way to reach her, to bring her back from that abyss of despair. His hands shook as he gently pulled her close, enveloping her in a tight, protective hug.

"I’m here, Y/N, I’m here." He repeated, his voice choked with emotion, praying to whatever was watching them to make her listen to him. But she didn't seem to be able to do it, lost in her own spiral of panic.

Nick closed his eyes for a moment, fighting to stay calm. He knew he needed to be strong for her, and he needed to find a way to calm her.

"Y/N, look at me, please." He pleaded, voice softer, trying to break the invisible barrier that kept her trapped in her own fear. The brunette held her face with his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Breathe with me, okay? Breathe slowly."

He began to breathe deeply, exaggerating his movements so she could follow. He breathed in slowly and deeply through his nose, holding it for a moment before slowly exhaling through his mouth. He felt Y/N tremble in his arms, but he kept pace, trying to convey calmness through each breath.

"That's it, keep going, you can do it." Nick encouraged, feeling a small change in her breathing. Her panting began to synchronize with his, although it was still irregular. He continued to whisper words of comfort, repeating that he was there, that she wasn't alone.

Slowly, very slowly, he felt the stiffness in her body begin to ease. Y/N's breathing became a little steadier, although she was still shaking. Nick kept the hug tight, feeling her heart beat against his own chest. He knew she was still scared, still trapped in her mind, but she was starting to come back.

"You're safe, Y/N. I'm here." Nick said once again, his voice firm and reassuring. He didn't let go of her face, maintaining eye contact, grounding her to reality. "Let's get through this together, okay?"

Finally, after several minutes that felt like hours, Y/N began to breathe in a more controlled manner. Her sobs subsided, and her eyes, once wide with terror, began to focus on Nick's. Her blurred vision cleared a little, the walls of the room seeming less threatening.

Nick sighed in relief, still holding her tightly, feeling the tension gradually ease in her muscles.

His own heart was still beating fast, but now, for a different reason. He looked around, trying to understand the situation better, when his blue orbs stopped on the open suitcase above the bed. The sight of the packed suitcase made his heart sink. Confusion and fear settled in his chest. What was happening? Why was she packing her things? The thought of Y/N leaving caused him his own panic, an intense worry that he tried to suppress, deciding that the questions could wait.

With a conscious effort, he looked away from the suitcase and focused on the immediate task of taking care of Y/N. He stood up slowly, maintaining eye contact to ensure she didn't feel abandoned for even a moment. The boy grabbed the pink bottle of water from the bedside table on her side of the bed and quickly returned, sitting next to her on the cold floor again. The hard ground beneath him was a sharp contrast to the softness of concern he felt for Y/N.

"Here, drink some water." He asked softly, handing Y/N the bottle.

The fragile girl took the bottle with hands that were still shaking but managed to open the cap and take a few small sips, each one firmer than the last. Nick watched her every move, his mind still spinning around the suitcase. The silence in the room was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unasked questions. He waited patiently, without pressing, standing by her side like a pillar of support.

After long seconds of silence, Y/N took a deep breath, her gaze shifting from the bottle to the suitcase on the bed. She knew she needed to explain. Nick deserved to know what was going on, especially after helping her get through that panic attack. She straightened up a little, trying to find the strength to speak.

"Nick..." She began, her voice still trembling. "I... I'm packing because I need to get out of here for a while. I can't stay here any longer, the way things are between me and..." Her voice trailed off into the air before she could mention the name of the boy she loved most in the world.

Nick felt a lump form in his throat, but he remained calm, waiting for her to continue. Y/N took another sip of water before continuing, her words coming out in a halting, painful stream.

"I saw Matt with Amanda today, you know? They were together, and he looked so happy… happier than I've ever seen him with me." Her voice cracked again, but she took a deep breath and continued. "It made me realize that no matter how much I love him, he will never love me the same way. And I can't keep destroying myself like this. So, I'm going to spend the night at Diana's house. I need some time to think, to calm down. Get away from here. Get away from him. And maybe make him miss me... Or finally notice that I'm not what he wants." The last part came out in a broken whisper, her gaze lowering to her crossed legs.

Nick felt a wave of relief upon hearing that she wasn't leaving his life forever, but the worry and sadness over her situation still weighed heavily on him. He wanted to say something, anything to ease her pain, but the words seemed inadequate. Instead, he just nodded, offering silent support.

"And please, Nick, don't tell Matt anything yet." Y/N asked, her eyes pleading. "I need a little time to understand what I'm going to do. He really hurt me, but I can't act on impulse."

Nick held her hand firmly, offering her an expression of understanding and support.

"Of course, Y/N. I won't tell him. I promise." He murmured sincerely. "You can have all the time you need. And I'm here for you, no matter what. I love my little brother, but I won't defend him when he's in the wrong end. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are, Y/N. Someone who loves you completely, without shadows of the past."

They sat there for a few more minutes, sharing that moment of stillness and understanding. The cold of the ground seemed less intense with each other's comforting presence.

Eventually, Y/N stood up, with Nick helping her place her suitcase on the floor. She took one last look at the room she had shared with Matt, pain visible in her eyes but also a growing determination. She knew she needed to step away to heal, to find her own strength again.

"Let's go." Nick's voice woke her from her reverie, his hands picking up her suitcase and walking it to the door. "I'll uber you to Diana's house."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt returned home with a beaming smile on his face, his heart still racing with the joy of the friendly encounter he had had. He had spent the afternoon with Amanda, talking and laughing like old times, and the feeling of familiarity and happiness was undeniable.

The boy climbed the stairs of the house with quick steps, eager to see Y/N and share his good mood with her. He wanted to hold her close on their bed, bury his nose in the curve of her neck, and smell her soft and natural perfume as he told her about his day.

But when he opened the bedroom door, a strange feeling of tension in the air made him stop. The environment felt different, as if something had changed, but he couldn't identify what it was. He entered the space, leaving the door open behind him, turning his body and letting his eyes roam the four walls, trying to find what was wrong. Nothing seemed out of place at first glance: the bed was made, his clothes were in the same place, the books were on the shelf, and the computer was on the computer desk. But there was an absence he still couldn't understand.

It was when he opened the closet that reality began to form in his mind. Y/N's side was almost empty. Where her dresses, skirts, and t-shirts once hung, now there were just a few lonely hangers. The empty space where her suitcase sat now felt like a black hole, sucking in all the light and joy he had felt moments before.

Matt felt his heart stop for a second, a feeling of panic starting to take over his chest.

"Y/N? Hey, baby? Are you cleaning out the closet by any chance?" Matt's broken voice sounded through the room in an echo, seeming to escape out the door and travel the entire floor of the house, his blue eyes still fixed on the empty hangers as his mind created the expectation of hearing the sweet, melodious voice back.

But nothing came.

Nick appeared silently in the doorway, watching his younger brother with a serious expression. Matt was so absorbed in his desperate search for answers that he didn't notice Nick's presence until he heard his voice.

"She left."

Matt turned abruptly, his wide, confused eyes meeting Nick's. The older triplet's expression was one of deep sadness, mixed with calm determination. Matt felt a wave of despair rise up inside him, like an overwhelming tide ready to swallow him.

"What do you mean 'she left'?" Matt asked, his voice trembling accompanied by an expression of terror. "Where- Where did she go?"

Nick sighed, taking a step forward, eyes shining with suppressed anger.

"That doesn't matter now. What matters is that you need to decide what you really want, Matt. She saw you with Amanda today, you know?"

Matt felt the ground disappear beneath his feet. He looked around the room again, this time with a clear understanding of what was missing. Y/N, the constant, loving presence in his life, was gone.

"I don't understand..." Matt muttered almost to himself. "I thought we were fine."

"Only you saw this. Seeing you with Amanda was the last straw for her. She loves you, she really does, but she can't keep living like this, Matt, not when she knows that you still have feelings for your ex." Nick scoffed, a disgusted tone echoing with his words, shaking his head and rolling his eyes in suppressed anger. "And you can't continue like this, dividing your attention between Y/N and Amanda. This is destroying Y/N, and you don't even realize it."

"But I... I was just trying to be friends with Amanda again. I don't have feelings for her anymore." Matt spluttered, confusion and guilt beginning to mix in his chest.

"Then why do you keep seeing her?" Nick countered, with no softness in his words. "Y/N loves you, Matt. She loves you so much that she is destroying herself because you don't treat her like you should. She needs you, and you're here, acting like nothing's wrong. And if you continue like this, you will permanently lose the only girl who has truly stuck by your side through thick and thin."

Matt felt a lump tighten in his throat. He tried to speak, but words failed him. The image of Y/N, the woman he loved, suffering in silence because of her insensitivity, was unbearable.

He felt foolish and insensitive. How had he not realized how much Y/N was suffering? All he wanted was to be able to hug her now, tell her that he loved her, and that she was the only person that mattered. But at that moment, he realized how late those words could be.

"I didn't cheat on her, Nick. I really was with Amanda, but I didn't… I didn't do anything wrong." Matt's voice sounded choked, tears beginning to well up in his eyes as anxiety rose through his body like rafters.

"You think you didn't, Matt. But sometimes, it's not about what you do but about how you make the other person feel. And honestly? Giving priority to your ex, the girl who broke you and made you suffer for days on end, over Y/N, who you say you love oh so much, is low blow. Right now, Y/N needs space to breathe to understand her own feelings. And you need to truly analyze what you did and recant with her when she is ready."

Matt walked with shaky steps towards the double bed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress, burying his face in his hands. The weight of guilt and regret was crushing. All he could think about was how he wanted to turn back in time, do things differently, show Y/N that she was the center of his world. Never have lunch with Amanda.

"I need to talk to her." Matt tightened his fingers around the brown strands of her hair, sniffling. "I need to tell her that I'm sorry, that I love her. I really do, Nick."

"I know. But give her a little time, Matt. Forcing a conversation now might make things worse. Let her process everything, and then you can try talking to her." Nick advised, watching him closely before he turned, walking towards the door. "And next time, treat her like the wonderful woman she is, not like a replacement."

Matt nodded slowly, begrudgingly, knowing his brother was right, the despair turning into a silent, constant pain. The room around him, which had once been a haven of love and shared memories, now seemed like an empty, desolate space. The mattress beneath his body, where both of their bodies lay together just the day before, now felt like an icy surface, sending horrible shivers through his body.

His mind betrayed him by making him remember the moments when he had treated Y/N with indifference and neglect, moments that he now saw with painful clarity. Each memory was like a stab to the heart, revealing the depth of his callousness. Y/N's smiles that he had taken for granted, the nights she waited up for him while he lost himself in thoughts of the past, the comparisons...

He could now see the small changes in her expression, the way her eyes sparkled less, how her smile became rarer with each passing day. She was withdrawing, and he was blindly contributing to that withdrawal.

Sitting there, now alone in the room, Matt felt the weight of his own guilt and regret. He realized that he had never made Y/N feel like the most important woman in her life. Instead, he had relegated her to the background, allowing the shadows of his former relationship to contaminate the present. Y/N's love and dedication towards him contrasted painfully with his own indifference.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

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sludge-saturday · 2 days

Text

catching feelings - pencil and charcoal

you've been riding with the van der linde gang for a few months now, pulling your weight and helping out when you can. you've earned the trust of nearly everyone there with your hard work and are starting to capture the interest of a certain someone...

pairing: arthur morgan x gn!artist!reader

summary: you show arthur your artwork by the fire. how will he react when he sees himself amongst your drawings?

tags: fluff, arthur has low self-esteem

warnings: very brief mention of alcohol consumption

word count: 1,141

a/n: "catching feelings" will be a series i explore with the rdr2 characters i write for, it'll pretty much be the moment they realize they like you! also, i can't tell if my writing style is too corny or not so feedback is encouraged. :)

☆ the trotting of your horses' hooves served as gentle ambience as you and arthur watched the van der linde camp come into view. an involuntary feeling of relief washed over you, knowing that you were safe here. the two of you were just arriving from a particularly difficult bounty hunt, but your combined skills proved to be efficient. "a job well done," as arthur had told you.

☆ you both approach the camp and hop off of your horses, hitching them to an available post. arthur gives boadicea a gentle, appreciative pat on the neck. "i'm gonna go tell dutch how much we made." he says, walking toward where the gang leader is standing. dutch is next to one of the posts holding up his tent and a fire had been made not too far away by some of the other gang members. karen, tilly, charles, javier, and lenny all sat around the flame, a couple with bottles in their hands.

☆ you wanted to stop at your tent for your sketchbook before heading over to sit with them. now would be a perfect time to keep practicing, you thought to yourself. after making the short trip to where your belongings were, you swiped the leather-bound book and the rest of your supplies off of your cot. as you walk towards the fire you glance at everyone sitting around it. no one had left yet, but another person had joined: arthur.

☆ scanning for a place to sit, you decide on an open spot next to the gunslinger. you had to admit, you've grown fond of arthur's presence since you first started traveling with the gang. it was something about his get-it-done attitude, his undying loyalty to those he cares about, and, of course, his rugged handsomeness. you kept your affection for him a secret, though, afraid of what might happen if anyone ever found out. you drew one of your knees up to your chest, propping your sketchbook up on your thigh in an attempt to dispel the thought.

☆ arthur's gaze couldn't help but wander to what you were doing beside him. as you opened your sketchbook, flipping through the pages to find where you last left off, arthur's eyes were able to steal a few glances at what was inside. from what he able to see, there were sketched pictures of people he could have sworn he recognized. was that... dutch? and sean? and mary beth? arthur gestured to the book in your hands and spoke in a hushed tone, as if afraid someone else would hear what he had to say. "you draw too?"

☆ you looked up at arthur with a smile already on your face. "it's been one of my passions since i was a child. i practically clung to my pencils when i fell on hard times." your eyes sparkled as you spoke to him, and you could have sworn you saw the same kind of shimmer in his eyes as he listened. "can i..." he started, "can i see 'em?" arthur had never met anyone else that shared his love of drawing and thought he never would, he had made peace with that. but this new discovery, this moment he was now sharing with you, it made him feel more alive and more connected to someone than he felt in a while.

☆ a flush threatened to creep onto your cheeks as you process arthur's request. you can't remember the last time someone asked to actually see what you were making. anxiety bubbled in your stomach as your mind raced through everything that could happen if you agreed. but, when you looked at arthur, his features were graced with a subtle glow, an expression of wonder and pure curiosity. how could you refuse?

☆ "of course." you gave him a sweet smile. "should i start from the beginning?" your hand prepares to move all of the pages on the left back to the right, but you look at arthur for approval anyway. "sure." he answered, nodding his head.

☆ and so you do. you show him everything, from your finished portraits of the gang members to sketches of your horse to quick scribbles of plants and animals you spot on your adventures. and arthur found it all so breathtaking. your art style, the way you chose to characterize your figures, your ability to make photo-realistic images from just pencil and charcoal, he never knew you had this in you.

☆ he watched as you flipped through the pages, admiring your work and pointing out ones he particularly liked. the person drawn on the last page had a dark cowboy hat on with rope tied around the base. he had a dark kerchief draped around his neck and a stubbly face. "recognize him?" you smooth your hand over the paper, remembering the unforgettable process that was drawing arthur for the first time. "this is one of my favorites." smiling at the page, you turn to look at his reaction.

☆ arthur was utterly dumbfounded. he couldn't believe what he was looking at. someone, especially someone like you, had deemed him worthy enough of being a muse for artwork. he thought he was so... ugly. he thought everyone found him that way. at a loss for words, the man felt tears prick his eyes. he didn't know why he was getting so emotional! he couldn't cry in front of anyone, so he cleared his throat and searched for what to say. "is that me?"

☆ you noticed that arthur's eyes looked glossier and that his expression shifted. you couldn't gauge how he was feeling from the look on his face, so you looked back down at the drawing. "it is," you said, fiddling with the corner of the book. "you are a joy to create." your smile was genuine, the apple of your cheeks shining in the firelight as you turned your head to face arthur again. his expression was still unreadable, his gaze tilted down towards his lap. after a few seconds of silence, arthur speaks softly. "ya really mean that?"

☆ arthur's eyes were still glassy, but softer this time around. he looked like the answer to his question would make or break him. he looked... vulnerable. even you knew that this was not a disposition you would typically, if ever, expect of him. you were careful with your response, knowing that you held the very livelihood of arthur morgan in your hands. "i do."

☆those two simple words sent a small swarm of butterflies through his gut. for him, nothing would be able to compare to the way you just made him feel. for him, this moment would be occupying his mind for longer than he cared to admit. for him, this gesture was just another piece of the stunning mosaic created in your image. after this, there's no more room for doubt. he's smitten.

#rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oneshot #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan x reader #artist!reader #enjoy :)

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izelascendant · 6 hours

Text

Unsportsmanlike

Chapter 3 - À Trois

━•❖•━

Rating | Mature Summary | What happens between the four after Tashi's injury. Pairing | f!Original Character x Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig Tags | Competition, Love Triangles (Squares?), Jealousy, Plot, Emotional Baggage, Smut, Exes, Unresolved Tension, Complicated Relationships Word Count | 2.5K Author's note | SMUT warning! What can I say, I've been a nasty girl. I always get so shy writing smut, lord. Next chapter will be the last of the series, I think they all need to take a chill pill - lol.

━•❖•━

Part 1 of this series - Sportsmanlike

Unsportsman like on AO3 | Chapter 1 - Atlanta, Chapter 2 - Spring Blooms, Chapter 3 - À Trois, Chapter 4 (final chapter)

Her mind races with thoughts and doubts, questioning whether this decision is wise or not. Her occasionally impulsive and spontaneous nature had led her down many paths—but this one seemed different. Spending the night in a married couple's hotel room was uncharted territory, especially when the couple in question was Art and Tashi Donaldson.

The resurgence of emotions she's felt in the past few weeks has been unavoidable, and the chance to experience both Art and Tashi again has left her conflicted. The question lingers in her mind—Why pass up this opportunity to be with them both?

She gets ready earlier than necessary, scrubbing every square inch of her body vigorously in the shower. She styles her hair meticulously and applies her most expensive lotions and perfume, wanting everything to be perfect.

She studies herself in the mirror, questioning her own actions. "What am I doing?" she murmurs, feeling her anxiety rising. Doubt creeps into her thoughts—what if Tashi really just wants to talk? And what about Art's kiss? Has Tashi been pulling the strings all this time?

As her eyes meet Tashi's in the hotel lobby, she feels a final wave of anxiety wash over her, but it quickly disappears into the background when Tashi laces their fingers together and leads her up to their room. There is a sly smirk on Tashi's face, one that she recognizes all too well.

Tashi observes her closely, noticing her breathing. "You seem nervous," she remarks, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. As she speaks, her fingers brush against her copper hair, a gentle and familiar gesture.

They stand together in the spacious elevator, the only two people in the enclosed space. She returns Tashi’s smile with a deep breath, feeling the flutter of anxiety in her stomach. "A little."

Tashi slips the key card into the slot, opening the entrance to their room. She pauses before they step inside, turning to face her. "Art and I both have nothing but good experiences shared with you." Her words are reassuring, a subtle reminder of the intimate moments they all share.

“Thank you for inviting me. I—I’m sorry about running off yesterday; it just caught me off—” She begins to speak, attempting to explain herself, but her words falter as she follows Tashi into the room and her eyes fall upon Art, waiting quietly near the doorway.

His casual greeting cuts through her ramblings, bringing her train of thought to a halt. "Hi." His single-word response holds a subtle smirk, as if he can't help but find her nervousness endearing.

She answers his simple greeting with a soft, almost timid "Hi" of her own, her eyes nervously darting between him and Tashi. As Tashi takes off her jacket, she feels a sense of being taken care of. She can't help but notice the shift in roles between them—how the tables have turned since their teenage years—Art, once the shy and susceptible one, now stands confidently before her, while she finds herself feeling flustered.

"No hard feelings, yeah?" Art gazes at her, his voice smooth.

“None at all,” she replies, a small smile playing on her lips as she feels heat rising to her cheeks.

Tashi intervenes, gently resting her hand on her shoulder. Her voice is a gentle command. "Come with me. I'll show you around." She then glances at Art. "Art will get you a drink."

Art nods and goes towards the mini bar to fix her a drink, his eyes fixed on her as she moves away with Tashi.

Following Tashi through the expansive layout of the hotel room, she takes note of the space. It's more like an apartment than a room, complete with a living room, a kitchenette, and multiple bedrooms. Everywhere she looks, she can sense the careful attention to detail paid by Tashi in setting everything up for the evening. The atmosphere feels almost nurturing, as if she's being gently guided and taken care of by them both.

As they enter the bedroom and Tashi shrugs off her robe, revealing a dark blue silk slip dress that accentuates her slender figure, she can't help but gaze at her, impressed. "You look beautiful." The words escape her lips in a soft murmur, her eyes roaming over every inch of Tashi's figure.

Tashi moves closer as her hand cups the side of her face, and her other hand finds its place at her waist. "Not as beautiful as you." A playful smirk curves her lips as she speaks, her gaze never breaking contact.

Her smirk matches Tashi's as she brings her lips close to hers, a hint of challenge in her eyes. "You're fucking crazy, Tash." Her words are spoken in a low purr.

The years of pent-up longing for each other seem to break into a passionate moment as they meet in a kiss filled with burning desire. Tashi's hands hold her body tightly against hers, guiding her toward the bed with a fierce hunger. She can hardly catch her breath as Tashi's lips move relentlessly against her own.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” Art's voice cuts through like a sharp knife, interrupting the heat between them. He casually strides across the room, taking care to place the drinks down on the desk in the corner of the room, before looking up at them with a smug smirk on his face.

Her gaze moves from Tashi to Art, her lips glistening and slightly swollen from Tashi's relentless kisses.

Tashi's voice is soft but playful, and her gaze is fixed on her as she speaks. "I'm just warming her up for you."

Those words send a chill through her whole body, and she can almost immediately feel her arousal growing at the thought. She relishes the sensation of being the center of both Art and Tashi’s desires, feeling wanted and desired by them both.

Art makes his way to the edge of the bed and gently grips her chin, tilting her face up towards him. There is a newfound confidence in his manner, an air of dominance that she has never witnessed before. Without breaking eye contact with her, he leans down and plants a kiss on Tashi's lips.

Tashi, with a satisfied grin, rises from the bed and moves over to the armchair strategically placed at the foot of the bed, positioning herself perfectly to watch as things unfold. The realization hits her suddenly—Tashi's role in this scenario becomes clear. Tashi is a cuck , and she gets pleasure from orchestrating the scene, gaining control in the process. She can tell that Tashi thrives on feeling in command—a true control freak.

"Undress for him." Tashi's command resonates with authority, and there is no room for disobedience.

She needs no convincing—the thrill of the situation is enough to send her pulse racing and excitement coursing through her body. Art's eyes roam over her body, a silent gaze that leaves her feeling both exposed and desired. As she moves around on the mattress of their bed, stripping herself of all her clothing items. Art, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, palms himself through his pants.

"You want her badly, don't you, baby?" The words hang in the air—a statement more than a question.

Art’s movements are slow and calculated. "So badly," he responds with a low growl, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.

Art has a different demeanor with her this time around; his behavior is almost harsh and demanding. He fucks her with a ruthless edge, as if he's using her to let out all his pent-up anger and frustration. He has her pinned into a helpless position, practically folding her beneath his touch. Her legs are propped up on his shoulders as his grip is firm enough to pin her down to the mattress, pounding his hips into her relentlessly.

Tashi continues to observe from the sidelines, enjoying the scene unfolding before her eyes. The sight of her struggling and overwhelmed in desire—her face flushed, head rolling back, grabbing the sheets desperately—as she reaches the brink of overstimulation. Despite her struggles, Tashi can't help but appreciate how captivating she looks at this moment, her expression a mix of both pleasure and pain.

Art presses his hand meticulously against her lower abdomen, the metal of his wedding band warm against her skin as he thrusts into her at just the right angle—allowing him to feel his length practically poking at her cervix. She whines and cries, rolling her head over to Tashi’s side, noticing how she now has her hand between her thighs, attending to her own needs as she watches the two.

The plea escapes her lips—a desperate plea for mercy—for release. "Tashi, please." Her voice is thick with tears as she looks up at Tashi, her eyes pleading.

"You're taking it so well, baby." Tashi whispers softly, her gaze fixed on her, her tone filled with praise and reassurance.

She reaches up, her grip tightening on Art's chest as she desperately clings to him. He responds by leaning down, his voice a low murmur as he utters the words, "I've got you, don't run." Despite the firmness in his tone, there is a hint of tenderness, a reassurance that he's there to ground her. He repositions himself to pull out and uses his fingers, curling them up inside her, hitting that same spot that makes her fall apart and gush onto his hand.

Tashi watches the mess being made, the way she soaks up the sheets, crying for mercy, and the way Art’s length twitches at the sight as he skillfully uses his fingers to drive her crazy. She feels the mattress dip as Tashi sits down beside her on the bed, a gentle presence at her side. Tashi's hands reach out to caress her face, a soothing gesture.

“Where do you want it?” Art’s breathing is slightly ragged as he rubs himself through her wet folds; his gaze is focused and determined.

“Inside, inside me.” She gives the green light, her gaze flickering between him and Tashi.

Tashi watches in satisfaction as her husband slides back inside her, holding her hips in place and groaning as he reaches his climax. It's as if everything comes together in a perfect culmination of the scene, a satisfying conclusion to the game Tashi had orchestrated. “That’s it.”

After showering her with gentleness and comfort, Tashi then leans in and plants a quick kiss on her lips, the action like a sweet reward for having been a good girl and taking it all. She then turns her head towards Art, her smile soft and genuine, and presses a gentle kiss on his lips, expressing her gratitude for his participation in the scene.

To top it all off, she gently pushes Art aside to lower herself between her legs and lick out the remnants of her husband from her core. It’s a filthy, almost sinful move, but the vulgarity of it all adds to the experience.

As the heat of the moment subsides and the sensations fade, shame begins to creep its way into her mind. The realization of how vulnerable and exposed she has been sinks in, and a flush of embarrassment washes over her.

Art moves across the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, and offers, "You can take a shower here." His voice is casual, as if he's simply providing a practical solution to her current situation.

Tashi pipes up from the edge of the bed, chiming in with her own suggestion. "We can also set you up in the spare bedroom, no problem at all."

She responds with a soft smile and a gentle chuckle, expressing her gratitude for their hospitality but explaining her intention to leave. "I appreciate it, but I think I'll just head back home," she says, her voice nonchalant. Despite their offer, she seems eager to put some distance between herself and the intimate scenario they had just experienced.

As she leaves the hotel and steps out onto the dark, windy street, only one person comes to mind. She reaches for her phone to dial the number.

“Patrick?” Her voice comes out hopeful as he picks up her call.

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the-golden-comet · 3 days

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✨Motivational Monday✨

Happy Monday, everyone! I’m back with some more motivation to start your week off right (and write) ✨

I’ve received some amazing DM messages this past week, both supporting my works and asking for writing advice. So, I figured I’d share a little bit of my own philosophy here:

Your writing and art doesn’t have to be perfect. Seriously. Humans aren’t perfect, so why should we hold ourselves to unreachable standards? It is inevitable for us to make a mistake, and that is perfectly okay.

Do you know how many times I reread and edited Peter Hart? A lot. There were still a few errors that made it past the final draft. I kind of chuckle when I read them now, and recall that there were typos that made it through print on some of my favorite childhood books. It happens. But…I don’t remember the typos. I don’t remember the minor errors—I remember the stories.

Think back to your favorite book series—do you recall a typo or printing error? Even so, it’s most likely not a big deal. What matters is you’ve tried, you polished, you’ve presented the best possible art you could. And, most importantly: you ENJOYED it.

Art without passion and emotion from the soul is hollow. This is why AI can never “create” art like we can. People get their feelings of anger, joy, sorrow, love, lament… deeply human emotions, out there. It’s vulnerable, it’s beautiful. It’s human. That’s why writing and the arts are part of the humanities.

Look, I get it: If it’s a job, sometimes you have to push through feelings of lower motivation to reach a quota. But I always harken back to the beginning: Why did you begin in the first place? What inspired you to pick up writing or art as a career? What sparked the creativity in your soul, that you wanted to share your passion and vulnerability with the world? If you lose sight of that, you lose sight of what makes art enjoyable: the fact that it was created by YOU. Do you know how freeing that is? YOU are the masters of your own world.

Wonderful people, your art is beautiful because it is uniquely yours. And nobody can take that joy away from you other than yourself. So why not enjoy what you do? Why not find happiness in your penstroke? Why not lift yourselves up, instead of tearing your beautiful hearts down? Life’s too short, lovelies.

Do what you want. Love who you are. Love what you do. Love what you love. 💖💫

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sparklecarehospital · 2 days

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hey if this *really* doesn't bother you, i've recently been tired of the main drawing program i use (medibang), and i draw using a table + pen. i basically keep trying to draw this art the way i want it. problem is, the lines aren't really... "perfect" no matter how much correction/stabilization i put on it. it's like the smallest detail that has me like "gah, i hate this" /srs

so then i was looking at your art, and wow, the curves/lines are perfect like the way i would want to draw them. so then, (as embarrassing as this sounds lol) i tried other programs such as krita, paintdotnet, etc. seeing if they would get the type of curves i wanted, and ended up sleep depriving myself like... ouch. never felt so desperate to perfect a few pixels on my screen in my whole life.

like i said again, if this really doesn't bother you. could you recommend some programs to use for drawing or what kind of program you use? this would be very helpful! thanks! /pos ^^

not a problem at all! i mostly kept the pen settings for crew usage but i dont see why i cant share them for fans to use for fanart/fancomics/etc. i use firealpaca SE (but the regular edition of the program should work fine too) with a stabilizer of 40.

this is the exact brush i use, this pen pressure correction keeps the brush tapering from getting super thin, which is a huge characteristic of the lineart we do for the modern comic. i dont like the super thin tapering anymore, the thicker ends look much cleaner and they're easier for our artists to replicate.

i actually have different 'size' brushes saved, so i dont have to keep editing my pen size manually for when i do different sizes. they all have the same stabilization, just different sizes.

sometimes i edit the size if im doing a different angle/shot than the default one i do for my general art

hope this helps! :]

#answers

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ta5tier · 14 hours

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isat thoughts, go

[this ask is actually an excuse to ramble about whatever thing you can't get someone else to prompt you to ramble about]

i just woke up so this probably wont be too coherent but here we go!

I, like many, discovered ISAT through @jelloapocalypse’s fantastic video on the game, and by that I mean I watched the first 5 minutes of the video and immediately stopped and played the game myself.

I already liked time loops as a literary device, especially in games (outer wilds rocks, 12 minutes is interesting despite the general quality, etc) but ISAT managed to get me interested in the story and its characters before even introducing time loops as a mechanic. (Y’ALL I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR ISABEAU TO JUST COME OUT SWINGING LIKE THAT! I clocked that motherfucker before the gang even left dormont, he isnt smooth.)

ANYWAY besides the great character writing, ISAT also managed to nail its genre parody right off the bat, the literal RPS combat is so funny, Mirabelle gives off such RPG protagonist vibes, and its a neat take on the genre to center the narrative around the “edgy”rogue (HA Scissors pun). Along with the fact that Siffrin is absolutely the right amount of mentally unstable, you have all the perfect ingredients for great genre deconstruction.

Spoilers Under the Cut So be WARNED

There are tons of people talking about the story beats further so i’m not gonna spend more time here reinventing the wheel, but something I will talk about is how the game leverages ludonarrative assonance, I.e. how the game reflects the experience of the player as a part of the story.

In the case of ISAT, this manifests as the growing boredom both the player and Siffrin experience as they continue through the loops. On my first few loops I took care to avoid skipping dialogue and made sure my party was leveled up enough to succeed at any of the fights they faced. I explored thoroughly and enjoyed the process of doing so and I only reset when the game asked it of me.

But as the game continued I found myself zoning out of more and more dialogue, skipping more and more fights, and resetting whenever it would save me time. And Siffrin was with me all the way through all of it, his internal monologue growing increasingly disinterested with the affairs of his party members and the dangers they were in.

Ironically, in a game so outside my lived experience I found myself mentally aligned with Siffrin in a way that's frankly a little concerning. (im ok im not in a time loop lol)

The magic of ISAT for me was in that alignment, of feeling a shared purpose with a character, and in the breaking of that alignment in the games later acts. One of my favorite moments in any story is when I realize I can no longer fully root for the main character. Siffrin's last loop was that moment for me and I loved it. Siffrin's final trek through the House is so awful to watch but also represents the logical conclusion of his decent. The witty commentary is gone, his family is gone, the muscle memory that he and I shared in navigating the house is no longer reliable. Its all no longer necessary.

In Siffrin's mind, whats left of them isn't worth saving. And then finally, agonizingly, they are saved. Despite his best efforts to self destruct, his family come for him and they're mad and they're scared but they do it anyway, even when the world is ending around them.

Anyway yeah i love this game so much Siffrin is Stars' most mentally unwell soldier and i love them and their stupid family so much.

#in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat #this isnt even getting into loop and everything about them affasdfhasjkfas

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thatacotargirl · 3 days

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Flower of the Dawn Court

Please enjoy this little oneshot 🌼🌸

Summary: It is Thesan's wedding day and all of Prythian seems to have been invited. His daughter's, y/n and Dalia, have played wedding planners ahead of their father's big day; but nothing ever goes to plan when the 7 High Lords come together.

This oneshot is set at the beginning of A Court of Mist and Fury.

Reader's POV

It was a beautiful, warm morning in Dawn Court. The sun had slowly started to rise over the horizon, the birds were singing their love songs quietly, the tune carried by the breeze. You were stood on the balcony of your bedroom, a coffee in hand, enjoying the peacefulness of nature before the day fully erupted.

Today was your father's wedding day. After his experiences under the mountain, he hadn't waited a single second before letting the Captain know his true feelings and the pair agreed to marry as soon as feasibly possible. The wedding was the first to take place since Amarantha was slain and it felt like all of Prythian had been invited to Dawn, including the remaining 6 High Lords.

A door opens to my left and I turn to see Dalia, my sister, appear with a steaming cup of coffee to join me. Dalia and I were adopted by Thesan as babies when we were left on his doorstep. Dalia arrived a few months before I did, but Thesan treated us like we were his own flesh and blood; raising us in Dawn amongst the greats. Rumour had it that Dalia was even next in line to inherit the title of High Lady of Dawn, despite not being a blood relation. I grin at my sister as she reaches out an arm to embrace me.

"I can't believe the day is finally here", she says, pulling me closer into her side.

"He deserves this, every bit of happiness the world can offer him and more". Dalia nods her head in agreement as we gaze out over the gardens, watching the staff begin to set up the arch and the seats for the ceremony.

Turning the my wardrobe, I pull out the dress that was custom made for today. A beautiful shade of deep crimson with golds heels and jewellery to match. Dalia was to wear similar, only hers was a deep shade of blood orange. We looked magnificent.

"Time to get ready", I grin to my sister, as she rushes forward to pull her dress from the hanger.

Several hours later and both Dalia and I were dressed and ready, our hair and make-up perfect. We watched with tears in our eyes as Thesan and the Captain shared their first moment of seeing each other dressed for their wedding, and took more photos than there were stars in the sky as our newfound family of 4. We could hear the hustle and bustle of guests arriving and taking their seats, and soon the bell called to let us know it was time for the ceremony to begin.

"I love you girls with all my heart", my father said, pulling Dalia and I in for a hug. When we finally let him go, he walked to the entranceway and began his walk up the aisle.

Dalia and I were next. Our heritage remained unknown, with neither of us caring too much to know more about the family that had abandoned us, but it was clear from which court's we heralded. Dalia was without a doubt a descendant of the Day Court, her power to wield sunbeams could rival even the most talented magic in her native lands. I, however, was born of Spring; and beheld the power to command flowers. Dalia used to tease me that I had the 'flower power' when we were children, especially when our father was teaching us how to manage our powers and I accidentally caused flowers to bloom from every wall, floor, and ceiling of the Dawn Court palace. One time I even bloomed a flower from the top of my head and couldn't quite grasp my magic enough to make it vanish - leaving me with a real-life flower crown for several days. Thankfully, Dalia and I had mastered our powers eventually, and could put them to good use today.

Arms linked, we walked down the aisle, smiling around to our many guests. Dalia commanded the sunlight to shine down and spotlight our father, with wisps of sunbeams dancing around the garden to the tune of the choir. With soft gestures of my arms, I yielded flowers from my fingertips, allowing them to fall from the sky amongst the seats and along the aisle. As we rounded off to the alter, kissing our father's cheeks as we went, we watched as the Captain appeared at the entrance of the walkway.

The ceremony was nothing short of jaw-droppingly beautiful, and the crowd roared with delight as our father and the Captain were pronounced married. The 4 of us embraced at the altar and we walked hand in hand back down the aisle towards the evening celebrations.

On arrival at the reception, with a glass of champagne in hand, Dalia and I made our way around the guests to welcome them to Dawn. The High Lords had all agreed to attend and many were staying in rooms at the palace tonight, allowing them to indulge in the festivities to their heart's content. Only Kallias of Winter and Beron of Autumn were leaving tonight; Kallias to return home with his heavily pregnant wife, and Beron because - well - he's Beron.

A brief disagreement caught our attention as we turned in the direction of the Night Court table. Rhysand and his Inner Circle were all present for the wedding, as was Rhysand's plus one - Feyre Cursebreaker. It was made public soon after what happened under the mountain that Rhysand and Feyre had made a bargain that she stay at the Night Court for a week per month, and it looked like Rhysand had decided to take that week now, stealing Feyre as his guest to the wedding so that Tamlin wasn't able to. Dalia chuckled, clearly enjoying the drama of it all. Honestly, Prythian was slowly turning into a real-life drama production these days.

We approached their table to greet them, bowing to Rhysand and offering our hand to the Inner Circle members.

"Thank you for attending the wedding, High Lord", Dalia offered, her head still bowed as she addressed Rhysand.

"It was our pleasure, Dalia, thank you for inviting us. The ceremony was wonderful", he replied.

As you made your way around the table, greeting each member, you reached out a hand to greet Feyre. Although she sat with a frown on her face, her body caved inwards and away from Rhysand, she offered out her hand to shake yours.

"Thank you for coming, Feyre", you offered gently. You felt her hand untense in yours as you addressed her personally, and she relaxed her posture slightly.

"It was a beautiful day. Your's and your sister's powers are really something else, I know my sister Elain would love to be able to create flowers at her whim".

You smile as you withdraw your hand and Feyre looks up to meet your eyes. You see her's widen and she quietly gasps. Not quietly enough, however, to evade the notice of everyone sat at the table, who turn to look at you with confusion.

"Is everything ok, Feyre?" you ask with concern, taking a step backwards in case you startled her.

"I'd know those eyes anywhere".

You look at her your face laced with confusion, as you turn to look at Dalia for assistance. She offers you a shrug as you both turn to Rhysand, hoping for an explanation. He, too, however, looks completely at a loss.

"Feyre?", he asks, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. The entire table is silent, waiting for Feyre to respond, but her eyes remain frozen on yours.

"Feyre?", you try, crouching down to be in front of her seat.

"I'd know those eyes anywhere", she repeats. "I fell in love with them".

The entire table exchanges confused glances, now becoming concerned that Feyre is speaking in tongues and not making any sense. You stand and turn to Rhysand, about to offer to get Thesan in case Feyre needed a healer, when Amren, Rhysand's second in command, also gasps.

"By the Cauldron", is all she could get out, looking past your shoulder to the crowd behind you.

You turn, trying to find the source of Amren's shock, only to lock eyes with a pair of matching emerald ones that were staring back at you, widened in surprise. Eyes that mirrored yours in every way. Eyes that could belong to no one other than your biological father.

The High Lord of Spring.

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of silver flames #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #a court of mist and fury #acotar oneshot #acotar fic #acotar imagine #thesan acotar #rhysand #feyre archeron #rhysand acotar #feyre x rhysand

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wolfgirlandfarmboy · 5 hours

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It was an early morning. The sun had barely started rising into the sky and Jack had just been pulled out of his sleep by his body's automatic clock.

Growing up on a farm, he was used to being yanked awake to get a jump on whatever was planned for the day. However, living in Briar Patch meant that clock just made it so he spent more time consciously laying in bed than anyone else.

There were some perks to it. Or rather one.

And that was getting to spend more time in bed with his moonlight.

Nana wasn't a morning person in the slightest. And Jack knew better than to try and "fix" it. She got to stay up late and he got to wake up early. It was a strange sorta balance.

So when he finally blinked the blur of sleep from his eyes, he got a perfect view of the puff of curly fur on her chest that he had, at some point in his slumber, buried his face in. Craning his head upwards more allowed him to take in her serene drooling face as she rested her head on their single shared pillow.

A drowsy smile of pure admiration came to his face.

The two had been dating for quite a while now, yet butterflies constantly filled his stomach whenever he looked at Nana’s face.

Jack had heard plenty of stories and received plenty of warnings about how the love he felt right now would dim. The “Honey Moon Period” is what people would call it. It was when the height of a couple’s love would be at the beginning of the relationship and gradually fade as they learned more about each other over time. It was certainly something Jack was concerned about. He knew it was a major concern of Nana’s as well. They obviously had their friendship they could fall back on but there was fear that their romance would have soiled it.

Yet, as Jack gazed at Nana’s blissful face and the ghost of a smile on her lips, he could swear he felt even more love than the day he confessed to her. It was the more he learned about her that he found himself falling even deeper. And the more time they spent together, the more he felt like he believed he found his soulmate.

Jack couldn’t lie, he never truly believed in the concept of a "soulmate” before the relationship. Having someone that was destined to be with you seemed way too much of a fairy tale for him to believe.

Of course, that was before he found out he was basically a fairy tale himself.

That belief slowly started to creep up on him but he still wasn’t too convinced about the concept of soulmates.

At that moment, Nana hugged him closer into her chest. With the way they were entangled, one of her hands rested on his head, her fingers entangled in the three flicks of hair that always sticked up, while her other hand remained on the back of his neck.

His eyes widened and his face became a deep shade of red. Peeking from the fluff his face was now practically smothered in, he could see Nana’s eyes were still closed, seemingly still in a dream. Yet, her smile grew and a small purr began to rumble in her chest.

It was a soft and calming noise. Something many would never get the joy of hearing, and something many didn't even believe she can make due to the antisocial personality she had around others.

Yet, Jack was mere inches from the source. A sound that let him know she was comfortable and safe. Closing his eyes, Jack let the blissful rumbles take over his thoughts and ease his mind.

And for a few minutes, the world just melted away and it was just the two of them in their bed. His arms wrapped around her body a little tighter, holding her just as close as she held him. Their scents mixed together as their hearts beat in time. A matching rhythm that others just brushed off as some imaginary phenomenon from the love birds.

However, it was this shared heartbeat that made Jack lose his disbelief in soulmates. Especially when he brought it up to Nana who experienced the same thing.

He could still remember the way her cheeks flushed the cutest red as she told him how she would always listen to his heart when they hugged. Her heightened sense of hearing made it easy. She puzzled at first when she heard how in sync they were and initially chalked it up to one of those things that happens to everyone that no one talks about. Yet when she tuned into other people’s heartbeat’s whenever she got close to them, they were always off sync with hers.

No matter how close in tune she thought she heard, none ever got as close as her sunflower’s. It was like a dance they did together that no one else could see.

Jack smiled as he thought more about how intertwined the two really were together. It made his chest flutter thinking about how the love of his life was a perfect match for him.

He knew some would claim she was a “near” perfect match, but Jack knew Nana was everything he wanted and more. She might not have the same sleep schedule, near polar opposite actually, and she might not be the most optimistic or cheerful individual, like some had expected his type to be, but she was still his other half. Her being the opposite of him made things more fun whenever they were together.

Sleep slowly began to creep back into Jack’s brain as he continued to listen to Nana’s heartbeat. He thought he could stay awake for just a couple more hours, at least until she woke up herself, but the comfort of being in her arms and the soft caress of the fur on her chest made it harder to keep his eyes open.

Something had compelled him, perhaps that literally green eyed part of his brain that urged him to do all types of things, to say something before he went to passed out. He knew Nana was still sleeping herself, but he wanted to say it nonetheless.

“I love you...”

It was muffled and a bit slurred as Jack had officially began to drift off but before he lost full consciousness, he could have sworn he heard that serene voice he knew very well echo back.

“I love you too.”

#jack #nana #writing #i haven't written a fic in so long #I AM A LITTLE RUSTY

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katsukikitten · 1 day

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for clarity Hakuji has his human eyes, blue iris and white sclera, normal lashes and no face tattoos but shares a mix of his demon and human form tats. Currently he goes by Akaza in this fic as an alias. Please enjoy ~

You've been hunting down this bag for months, a cute weekender duffle by a designer that had a bit of an agreement with certain stores. Bought in bulk and at a discount because it didn't meet the luxury brands normal standards however the flaws are so small most people didn't even notice them.

You were dying to have this bag.

Especially since you'd gotten a purse in all black by the same brand for a heavily discounted price, the only one in the store and it haunted you enough you woke up early to fetch it the next day.

But as you stand in the store you drove nearly an hour to be in, you frown. Not because of the size oh no it was perfect for a week stay, maybe longer if you used packing cubes, the design just as you wanted it where there were Js in hearts printed into the bag but the pattern didn't overly draw attention. The only problem was the bag was in a soft blush pink and not that dusty pink or black you've seen them use before.

You place it on your cart, debate if trying to find it in ‘licorice’ online is worth the hassle, wonder if you can find those black heart shades you've been wanting too.

“Whatcha got there princess?” The man's voice is smooth, cutting over the ambient music and chatter that you'd toned out. You hadn't noticed him approach, silent footsteps to near you and of course there wasn't a single reflective surface in sight.

But before you can scrunch up your pretty features an arm is presented to you, palm up. Body ghosting yours while he waits for you to take notice of his inky midnight bands on his forearm, three thick lines encircling thick muscle that flexes from his twitching midnight fingers.

“Akaza!” You purr and he adores the sound. Glad he's the one who can disarm you so quickly, “M not dressed to see you.”

Truly you weren't at least not for a…what should you call this? Not really fuck buddies as each meeting didn't always end in sex and there were too few dates between you to be dating. It was more like a situationalship if anything else. A situationalship you held with someone who you were pretty sure was muscle for a notorious mafia head, that his ranking was higher than just a goon. Much higher.

“Not dressed to see me?” There's a chuckle to his voice as he wraps his arm around your rib cage to pull you to him. His scent has a richness about it that always invades your senses. He smelled like fresh air, faint cigarette smoke and a cologne you can't quite pin point.

“Mmhmm I don't even have my lip on.” You pout hiding away your bare face when usually you'd see him with some strategically placed highlighter, mascara and at least lip gloss. Normally in a skirt or dress that hid away some frilly lingerie set in case he decided to unwrap you that night.

Now you weren't sure your plain bra and underwear even matched.

Akaza thought you looked cute in a form fitting black tee with monster girls on the front, paired with skinny jeans that hugged your ass and thighs nicely and black flip flops that made your white toe nail polish pop.

To him you looked sexy.

His fingers gently tilt your chin to look up at him and he's met with the cutest pout he's ever seen. True to your word your long fluttering lashes were bare, your top lip naked with not one single swipe of black lip stain while your bottom was your natural color either on its own or enhanced with gloss or a nude lipstick. Under the afternoon sun and fluorescent lights he can even make out your freckles.

“As beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on ya.” He leans in and kisses your lips, smiling as he does so his natural fangs can catch on your pout. His heart races when you giggle into the exchange.

“Flattery will get you nowhere Mr. Akaza.” You tease, looking into his icy blue eyes fighting off a sigh.

Flattery got him pretty far with you already.

“Hmm.” He hums, grabbing for the only thing in your cart, dark digits wrapping around the light pink handles but your clawed fingers pull it back into the cart. He lets go of the bag, puts the matching brown duffle in your cart too, you look up at him and replace the light creamy brown back onto the shelf. When you go to add the pink one back as well he puts it deeper into the cart and gives the handle a nudge so that you'll keep shopping. Reluctantly and with a sharp cutting glare, you start walking again and he follows.

“Shopping with your friends?” He looks around for a few of the guys he knows dates your girlfriends, doesn't see a single one. No lanky dark haired mop, no sunshine boy, and no scar face either.

“Hmm? No.” You wrap around to the next aisle, futally looking for that duffle in black, before you purse your lips in agitation, moving onto the next aisle that was now lined with hand bags and purses. Maybe a new one would take your mind off of the licorice duffle. It doesn't.

“By yourself then princess?” He watches you eye a mini tote, it's the same brand as the duffle and much larger tote on your pretty body now. You don't pick it up despite it being a dusty pink. Akaza reaches over you and nestles it into the cart, smiling down at you as he does.

“Yes. All by my lonesome.” You sigh dramatically before giggling, “Everyone is busy or out of town. I'll probably have dinner somewhere nice too.”

“By yourself?” He can't keep the growl out of his voice and you dangerously give him your back, looking at another bag.

“Most likely.” You leave it and when he tries to add it to the cart your flaring glower makes his lips pull up into a smirk.

“Lemme join ya for the day then, Princess.”

“No, ‘m fine.”

“I insist, don't like ya wandering around alone. Who knows who might find ya and try to bother you.” He teases, leaning in from behind to press a kiss to your throat, “I'll buy whatever ya want baby.”

“M a big girl. I can pay for my own things. Besides, how did you find me, Akaza?” You've gotta stop saying his name like that, he's gonna keep you forever if you don't. It doesn't help you turn to face him, stalking closer like a cat with easy prey. Until your chest is pressed to his and you're leaning up on tiptoes even in those platform flip flops to purr into his ear.

“So what's it on? Did you sew it into my purse? Is it underneath my car? Or did you download it onto my phone after you made sure to smear my pretty lipstick onto your sheets?”

You pull away before he can answer, innocent smile on your face as you blink up at him cutely, whine to your pretty voice, “But we'll be shopping all day, Kaza and I like to take my time!”

It takes him a moment to collect himself from the whiplash you give him. A smile slowly pulling up his lips as his tattooed fingers brush hair behind your ear.

“That's okay princess. I love taking my time with you, remember?” Letting his thumb come down to press gently on your throat before he lets go altogether, “But if you agree to me coming along just know that every outfit, every bag, every little thing ya look at a little too closely is gonna be in that cart and stay in that cart until we're ready to swipe my card.”

“Your card?” You curl your fingers through the loops of his black jeans, let your thumbs slide under his form fitting black wife beater that clings to his toned abdomen as you trace the hidden bands at his waist.

“My card princess. M not gonna argue about it.”

“Kay!” You lean up and kiss him between the thick twin bands on his throat, turning back and grabbing the cart to push along as you think of where that black bag could be. Maybe a sister store had it or maybe you should try online again.

Meanwhile Akaza smirks behind you as you allow him to be your scary guard dog, at least for the evening. And without a single effort to insist or remind him of your hyper independence he knows you have. He likes it, loves that you give into him even if it is just a little.

That you trust him to take care of you.

The afternoon moves along nicely. Akaza is always a man of his word, pulling out his card at the counter no matter how steep the price. He carries your bags to your car between each trip to every store while he holds your hand with his other until the final trip where he has you leaning against the drivers side door as the two of you agree on where to eat for dinner.

He leans down to kiss you, usually his parting is tender and yet intense leaving you giddy and dizzy until your next meeting but this time it is different. This time he cups your jaw and lets it move to your throat as his tongue slides into your mouth to lick the inside of your teeth, groaning as he does as if he's trying to taste all of you like it could be his last time. Starving that pretty head of yours of oxygen between his own searing kiss and the way he squeezes your throat before he finally lets go. Icy blue gaze boring into yours as he watches hearts form in your eyes before he presses his lips to your ear for a confession.

“I installed it on your phone.”

His mind flashes images of the exact moment his possession grew unstable, uncontrollable. Of you beneath him, fucked out and mewling his name, tenderly holding his hand while the other clawed his shoulders to shreds. Of you in his shower, giggling as you clung to him before he could fully step in, wetting his body with your suds before helping him wash. Of you lying next to him, giving such a cute smile before you reached out to caress his cheek with such a heavy sigh.

“Because the idea of any man seeing you the way I do makes me violent.”

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sophie1973 · 18 hours

Text

I am yours, you are mine (let's not fuck around)

Can be read HERE or under the cut

The girl looks familiar, but Henry can't place where he's seen her before..

It doesn't matter. He only cares because Alex has been engrossed in conversation with her for the past 15 minutes, all smiles, warm eyes, and subtle touches, and Henry's heart aches with a mix of envy and resentment.

He’s acutely aware that he has no right to feel this way, yet jealousy churns within him, deep and unsettling.

The thing is, it has been a bit weird between them since New Year’s Eve.

Since what was meant to be a chaste New Year’s Eve peck on the lips when the clock struck midnight had unexpectedly transformed into a ten-minute, full-blown make-out session.

Which had been brushed under the non-existent carpet in their shared flat on January 1 as if nothing significant had happened and blamed on the alcohol and the fact that they had both been painfully single for a while. And now Henry was supposed to go on with his life as if his best friend hadn’t shoved his tongue down his throat - a very skillful tongue, by the way. 10/10. No notes.

It’s one thing to quietly pine for your best friend, keeping your feelings hidden for the sake of the friendship. It’s another thing entirely to know firsthand what that best friend can do with his mouth and not be able to enjoy it on a regular basis. They had always been very affectionate, never thinking twice before hugging or cuddling on the couch during movie nights. Alex had come to terms with his sexuality a few years ago, before meeting Henry, so Henry had accepted that even if Alex was attracted to men, he wasn’t attracted to him. As long as he had Alex in his life, he was content with that.

But Alex, tonight, is a frustratingly perfect sight. Clad in black jeans and a white henley, his curls in charming disarray, he has the girl completely captivated. Henry can’t really blame her.

“Pretty sure this girl has done nothing to you, so why the glaring?” A voice resonates in his ear, and he turns around to meet the knowing smirk of his other best mate, Pez.

“I do not glare,” he instinctively denies, even though he knows it’s useless. Pez reads him like an open book and has figured out his feelings for Alex long ago.

“Could have fooled me,” Pez mutters, and Henry can’t help himself.

“Who is she? She looks familiar. Do you know her?”

Percy shoots him such a disbelieving look that Henry gets slightly defensive. “What?”

His friend lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I always brag about how smart my best mate is, and then you go and remind me how much of an oblivious sod you are as well sometimes.” It’s said with a gentle pat on his shoulder and in such an affectionate tone that Henry can’t get mad and snorts instead.

“Well, enlighten me, then.”

“Her name is Georgia. She’s a law student, hence how she knows our dear Alexander, and she’s from Australia.”

Henry frowns. “Ok, that doesn’t ring any bell.”

“I also call her the Australian Henry,” Pez whispers conspiratorially.

“What?”

“Just look at her, darling.”

Following Pez's advice, Henry observes Georgia again, scrutinizing her sandy blond hair, porcelain complexion, blue eyes, and full lips stretched over a bright, gummy smile. She’s dressed in a soft blue sweater and a denim skirt. It strikes him then, noticing his own attire mirroring hers with a similar blue jumper and jeans.

I call her the Australian Henry.

Oh. Oh.

“No wonder our dear Alex seems so smitten,” Percy adds with a nod to the young student who’s currently laughing out loud at whatever Georgia told him.

Oh great, she’s funny too. Alex only ever laughs like that when Henry uses his sarcastic wits and…

The realization of what Pez implies hits him like a freight train, and he stumbles slightly backward, his hand gripping the table behind him to find some balance.

“And at last I see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted…” Pez starts singing, his face full of glee.

“I…No, it’s not…I mean…how…” Henry stammers, struggling to process the revelation. His brain refuses to cooperate, overwhelmed by the enormity of what this could mean. So he follows his first instinct: flee from the potential threat (the threat being, in this case, a broken heart. He doesn’t precisely fancy the idea.)

“It’s just a coincidence,” he asserts firmly.

Pez's eyes roll with such intensity that Henry fears they might become permanently lodged in their sockets.

“Look, Hazza, We’re in America, so Land of the Free and all that. Do with that information what you will. You can keep your pretty head in the sand or decide Alex is worth taking a leap of faith. Your move, darling. Toodles!”

Henry shakes his head, feeling a blend of exasperation and fondness as he watches Percy depart. Deciding he needs a distraction from his preoccupation with Alex and the charming Australian, he heads to get another drink. Taking a sip, he winces at the overly sweet taste of the punch.

He should have stuck with his usual gin and tonic.

"Is it really that bad?"

Henry smiles as his classmate, Oliver, approaches and gestures at the drink.

"Worse," he chuckles, setting the cup on a nearby table. Henry remembers Oliver is a member of the frat house hosting the party. He's also attractive, with brown hair, green eyes, and a kind smile. They'd met a few times, chatted after class or on campus, and exchanged notes, but they'd never really talked in a more casual setting.

"Where’s your boyfriend?"

"My... Oh, you mean Alex? He’s not my boyfriend—just my best mate. And roommate as well."

Something shifts in Oliver’s expression.

"Uh, I always thought, with how he looks at you..." Oliver's voice trails off, a hint of uncertainty in his tone as he steps closer. “Good to know I was wrong.”

Henry's brows knit together in confusion. "The way he looks at me?"

"Hey, I've only seen the two of you together a few times, so I just assumed… I'm happy to hear he’s not, though." Oliver's smile widens, his chuckle growing bolder. "I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while, but… So, how about we grab coffee sometime?"

Henry’s brain screeches to a halt for the second time that night. He really hopes this constant mental whiplash doesn’t leave him with permanent brain damage.

Amidst the turmoil in his mind, two distinct facts pierce through : First, two different people have hinted at the possibility of Alex harboring a crush and/or deeper feelings for him. Second, Oliver's sudden proposition has caught him completely off guard.

"Actually, I drink tea," he responds a bit awkwardly. Oliver laughs as if Henry has said the most amusing thing.

It’s endearing.

Henry can't find a reason to say no. Yes, he knows he should consider what Percy and even Oliver said about Alex. Still, a part of him vehemently refuses to believe there’s any real possibility of it being true. That part of him always wins because hope often brings with it the risk of crushing disappointment.

Besides, Alex is a big boy. If— and that’s a big if— he really has feelings for Henry, surely he would mention it, right?

Henry opens his mouth, ready to accept Oliver’s offer.

"Ah, there you are!"

Both of them turn as Alex joins them, a broad grin on his face but an unusual glint in his whisky-colored eyes. He extends a hand towards Oliver.

“Alex,” he says, his voice casual, carrying an undercurrent of something.

“Oliver. We’ve met a few times, though.”

Alex doesn’t bother to reply, instead draping an arm around Henry's shoulder, a gesture he’s done countless times before. Still, this time, it feels different, especially when he says in that particular voice, “I was wondering where you disappeared to, Baby.”

Henry curses internally. Alex is always generous with terms of endearment, often calling people ‘sweetheart,’ but ‘Baby’ is reserved solely for Henry. And he both hates and adores how it turns his spine into jelly every single time.

But something about Alex’s sudden, timely appearance and his cheerfulness, which seems a bit too forced, doesn’t sit right with Henry.

He stiffens and crosses his arms. “I’ve been here the whole time,” he says a bit curtly, biting his lip to stop himself from mentioning that Alex had been talking to Georgia the entire time and didn’t seem to be looking for him very hard.

Alex’s smile fades slightly as he senses the shift in Henry’s demeanor, giving him a thoughtful look.

Leaning towards Oliver, Alex whispers a few words in his ear. To Henry’s utter astonishment, Oliver nods and says, “Of course, I understand, man,” and without sparing a second glance at Henry, he walks away, leaving the two of them alone.

What in the Bloody Hell...?

“What just happened?”

“He just wanted to fuck you.”

“He was asking me out for coffee, and I was about to say yes.”

Alex shrugs. “Coffee, fucking, same difference.”

Henry feels his irritation bubbling to the surface. Who does Alex think he is, flirting with some random girl, then pulling some ridiculous territorial stunt the minute he sees Henry talking to someone else?

“You don’t even know him. He’s one of the kindest guys I know,” Henry argues.

Alex's expression softens to something almost like pity, and seriously, what the fuck?

"Oh, Hen. Do you know that 32% of those 'nice guys' turn out to be serial killers?" Alex retorts.

Henry sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to rein in his aggravation. “You’re making that up.”

“Not even close. Law student, remember? I know my statistics. And as your best friend, I have to make sure you don’t end up on the ten o’clock news.”

Henry closes his eyes, torn between the urge to laugh at the absurdity of their conversation and to cry in frustration because, really, what is Alex’s deal?

“Whatever you say, Alex. I’m going home.”

He strides away without glancing back, done with the maze of mixed signals for tonight. As he steps out of the house and reaches for his phone to call a taxi, Alex catches up to him.

“Wait, you’re actually leaving?”

Henry ignores him. He just told him he was leaving; he sees no point in repeating himself.

“What did I do?” Alex asks, his voice tinged with genuine confusion and that Henry can’t ignore.

“I was having a nice chat with a guy - who happens to be a classmate, by the way - and you barged in and chased him away for no bloody reason!”

“I told you…”

Anger rises back up in Henry’s throat, and he steps closer. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Alex, do not give me that serial killer bullshit again. It makes no sense, and you know it. Go back to Georgia,” he spats. It’s probably a bit too spiteful, but he doesn’t really care at this point.

Alex frowns. “The State?” he asks with a look of bewilderment. “Why would I go there?”

“Oh my God. Not the State! The girl you’ve been talking to all evening. Because no one was rude enough to interrupt your conversation ?”

“Oh! She left with her boyfriend. I don’t think he would appreciate it if I tagged along.”

Henry’s anger falters at this tidbit of information. Not that it changes anything. So he desperately focuses back on his phone, still trying to call that stupid taxi.

“Hen, please,” Alex says, soft contrition coloring his voice. Henry hates himself a little for how those words tug at his heart, softening his ire. Staying mad at Alex for any significant length of time seems like an impossible task.

That part of his brain, the one that's hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his best mate, makes it all the more challenging. It’s maddening and endearing all at once.

Even more so when Alex catches one of his hands, his thumb caressing his knuckles in a soothing gesture and remorse evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep like this. I’m a fucking moron. But he was not good enough for you.”

There’s a tense silence for a moment, and then Henry can’t help but soften at his earnestness, even if he’s still confused.

"How could you possibly know that? You barely talked to him for two minutes."

I don’t need to know him. I know you. You would be bored out of your fucking mind after twenty minutes.”

Henry sighs, turning his head away so Alex doesn’t see his anger dissolving into a reluctant smile he can’t fully suppress.

“You are such a bloody nuisance,” he mutters, though there is no heat in his words.

“But I’m your nuisance, right?”

He looks back at Alex, his breath catching in his throat. Beneath the humor in his voice, there is a vulnerability Henry hasn’t heard before - at least not directed at him - and something in his gaze is troubling and intoxicating.

Something in Henry snaps. Fueled by a sudden, almost reckless determination, he takes a leap of faith, hoping Alex will meet him halfway and not let him fall into the abyss.

With one hand firmly on his chest, Henry pushes Alex backward until his back presses against a sturdy tree. Gently cupping the back of Alex's head, he brings their faces closer, halting just as their lips are a mere millimeter apart. He offers Alex a moment to pull away, to say that he doesn’t share the same feelings.

Alex doesn’t. Instead, with a barely audible gasp, he leans forward and closes the distance between them, their lips finally meeting in a soft, tentative kiss at first.

Henry’s heart races as he deepens the kiss, his hand sliding from Alex's chest to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. Alex responds in kind, his arms encircling Henry's neck as he leans into the kiss, all hesitation melting away.

The world around them fades into a blur as Alex lets out a soft, needy moan. He pulls Henry impossibly closer; their bodies pressed together so tightly that it feels like their heartbeats merge into one. The kiss grows more intense and desperate as Henry’s hand slides into glossy, brown curls, tugging not so gently, and Alex growls.

“Fuck, baby,” He pants, and if Henry weren’t already half-hard, the urgency in Alex’s voice would have done the trick. “I need you in me like, yesterday.”

A few whistles snap them back to the present, reminding them they are still in the middle of the street, engaged in something that could get them both arrested for extreme public indecency. Given the unexpected and exciting turn his evening has taken, jail is the last place Henry wants to end up tonight. Not when he has a large, comfortable bed at home where he plans to do very bad, unspeakable things to the gorgeous man still holding him.

“Right. Hold that thought,” Henry says to Alex, stepping back. Alex reluctantly lets him go, his eyes still smoldering with intensity. Henry shifts his attention to his phone's screen, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand instead of the fiery spark in Alex’s gaze.

“Where’s that taxi?” Alex grumbles, breathless. Henry can’t help but feel a bit smug hearing the strain in his voice. He definitely plans to leave Alex completely speechless soon. Henry knows it's a formidable challenge, but he’s nothing if not determined—especially when it promises plenty of satisfying orgasms.

Obviously, they will need to have a conversation at some point, but Henry can only hope they are on the same page right now. After this night, their friendship will be irreversibly altered, opening up uncharted territory between them. However, something in Alex’s eyes, beyond the raw desire, suggests his feelings run much deeper than mere lust or the chance for a one-night stand.

“I still haven’t called it. I got sidetracked listening to you ramble on about stupid serial killer statistics.”

Alex grins. “Oh yeah, I totally made that up.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “No kidding,” he deadpanned, finally placing his order with a satisfied hum.

Alex, who seems unable to keep his hands to himself - and Henry already knew that, but not to that extent, obviously - comes behind him and wraps his arms around Henry’s waist, trailing his lips on Henry’s throat

“I meant what I said. I was a fucking moron.”

“You’ll hear no argument from me, love,” he replies, laughing at Alex’s indignant ‘Hey!’ but his laugh turns into a gasp when Alex slides a leg between Henry’s, his muscular Lacrosse player thigh pressing against his groin, creating a delicious friction.

Henry whimpers, his head leaning back on Alex’s shoulder as he feels Alex’s hand venture dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans, grazing the soft skin under his sweater. Henry thinks that if the taxi doesn’t arrive in the next two minutes, he will throw years of proper British education and etiquette through the window and have his wicked way with Alex in front of the whole bloody frathouse.

“I’ve been dreaming of having your dick in my hand, my mouth, and my ass for months, baby,” Alex whispers against his throat, “Can’t blame me for being a little eager.”

“Do you hear me…ah!...complaining?” Henry exhales as he feels Alex’s tongue trace a fiery path on his neck, right at the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

With immense effort, Henry checks his phone and sees that the driver is one minute away. He disentangles himself from Alex, ignoring his protests. It doesn’t seem necessary to put on a show for the driver.

The journey to their flat is brief, filled with shared smiles and knowing glances. They refrain from touching, afraid of scarring the driver if they only lose a fraction of the control they struggle to maintain.

Once in their apartment, though, all bets are off.

The front door is barely shut before Henry shoves Alex against it, their lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His hands slip beneath Alex’s henley, fingers grazing over his stomach's firm, soft muscles. Alex emits a shaky groan, and Henry revels in the sound, feeling slightly intoxicated by the power he now holds over the man he has adored from a distance for so long.

Henry steps back, pulling Alex by his waistband while skilfully unbuttoning it, and they make their way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes behind them until they find themselves naked, standing by Henry’s bed.

Henry’s heart races as he pauses to look into Alex’s eyes, his gaze soft and filled with want. They stand close, skin against skin, the room around them quiet and serene, encapsulating them in a comforting bubble. Henry gently brushes a stray curl from Alex’s forehead, and Alex smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners—an expression that always makes Henry’s breath hitch. Alex wraps an arm around Henry’s waist, his hand cupping Henry’s cheek as they share another kiss, their bodies melding seamlessly together.

"Are you sure?" Henry asks, giving Alex one last chance to change his mind. Truth be told, if Alex does, Henry isn't sure his heart could handle it. Now that he has had a taste of Alex, freely roaming his hands over Alex's gorgeous body, the thought of returning to their previous status quo feels unbearable.

The devoted, warm look in Alex’s eyes reassures him immediately. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, Baby.”

Henry shivers at the pet name because it definitely holds a more profound, intimate meaning now.

Henry takes his hand, and they both kneel on the bed, facing each other. He gasps Alex’s name as his fingers trail down his side before reaching their intended target and wrapping around Henry’s cock, pulling a noise from his chest he’s never heard before. It’s been a while since he had a hand that wasn’t his own, and the fact that it belongs to Alex sends pure electricity throughout his body. Alex grins against Henry’s mouth as he says in a gravelly voice, “I want you to fuck me so hard I have to bite the pillow so nobody hears my screams.”

Henry bites his lip, long, slow swoops of desire curling in his belly. “What if I want to hear you scream?”

Alex smirks. “Well, bring it on, then, Sweetheart. Lube?”

"Drawer on the right," Henry pants, and Alex reaches toward the nightstand, grabbing the bottle. They don’t mention condoms since they are both clean, and neither had engaged in any encounters since their most recent medical tests.

He hears a soft thud followed by a heartfelt "Shit!" from Alex.

"What?"

"I dropped the bottle."

Alex leaps off the bed, and Henry watches as he disappears, crouching next to it on his knees. "It rolled under," Alex informs him. "I can't find it."

Henry listens to Alex cursing as he fishes under the bed with his arm. Unable to contain his laughter, Henry says, "God, you're a bloody disaster," feeling his heart swell with love for the naked dork next to him.

He’s not letting the night end without professing those words to Alex, consequences be damned.

"You know, there's this thing called a vacuum cleaner, Hen. You've got a whole colony of dust bunnies under here," Alex comments casually, despite them being moments away from a significant shift in their relationship. Henry snorts.

"I'll take your advice under consideration, darling.”

“Aha!” A triumphant shout erupts as Alex reappears, holding the offending bottle. It is indeed covered in dust, as is Alex’s arm and hand.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” he says, jogging to the bathroom. Henry hears water running before Alex returns, handing the now-clean bottle to Henry, seated on the bedspread.

"Thank you, love. Now, on your hands and knees."

Alex grins and eagerly complies. "Bossy."

Henry keeps his expression neutral, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

Alex's grin falters slightly as he gulps. "No."

Henry smirks and pinches one of Alex’s buttocks, making him moan deeply. "Good boy," Henry purrs, the sound sending a thrill through him. He opens the bottle, squeezing some onto his hand. He spreads Alex’s cheeks, bringing a finger to his rim, and rubs the tip softly, almost teasing but not quite.

He’s savoring the moment.

Alex’s breath stutters as he reaches to brace a hand on the headboard, pushing back against Henry’s hand. Henry methodically presses in one finger, then another, maintaining a leisurely pace.

"You can add another, baby, I’m ready," Alex pleads, desperation tinting his voice.

Henry smiles sweetly. "It’s adorable that you think you have a say in this, darling."

"I’m not above begging, you know."

"Then let’s hear it," Henry murmurs.

Alex shoots him a heated look, a mix of exasperation and desire. "You’re such an asshole."

Still, Henry takes pity on him, adding a third finger and sliding deeper, preparing him, opening him. With the next thrust, Henry finds his prostate, eliciting a cry of pure pleasure from Alex.

"Oh fuck, yes! Right there…Oh, God."

Henry hums, leaning in to kiss Alex’s shoulder. “Henry’s fine.”

Alex huffs. “You’re not as funny as you think, Sweetheart.”

"Good. I wasn't aiming to make you laugh. Didn't someone mention something about screaming my name?" Henry teases.

He senses Alex shivering beneath him, and his stomach flutters at the sultry gaze Alex directs his way from under those fucking eyelashes. He puts a caressing hand on Alex’s buttock, spreading the cheek as he takes his cock in hand, the anticipation of being soon buried into Alex’s heat making his skin tingle.

"Wait, baby, I want to see you." Alex requests.

Henry retreats, and Alex turns over, lying on his back with his legs spread open, inviting Henry to crawl back over him. They share a tender smile.

"Hi," Henry greets, unable to conceal a gummy smile at the sight of Alex spread eagerly beneath him.

"Hey yourself."

"Are you ready?"

"Do your worst," Alex replies cheekily, making Henry snort.

All traces of humor vanish quickly as Henry slides in, pushing to the hilt in one sleek motion. They both let out a keening moan. Henry leans in, his tongue tracing Alex’s bottom lip, and Alex lifts his head, pressing his mouth to Henry’s in a hungry kiss.

Henry withdraws almost entirely before smoothly reentering with a single deliberate motion, drawing a groan from deep in his throat that echoes Alex’s gasp at the friction. Alex digs his heels into Henry's lower back, arching up to meet his every thrust, ensuring their bodies remain intimately connected. Henry responds with a throaty whimper as Alex's movements drive him in deeper. The slow thrusts, paired with Alex’s cock trapped between their bodies, create intense pressure.

“Fuck, Hen, I’m going to—” Alex's voice cracks as he nears his peak, the overwhelming sensation turning his cry into a sob. Henry slides a hand between them to stroke him through it, murmuring praise against Alex’s gasping mouth.

“You feel incredible, love,” Henry gasps, his voice thick with emotion.

“I want you to come inside me,” Alex breathes.

Henry’s thrusts intensify, becoming deeper and harder, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. It only takes a few minutes until the heat spirals low in his belly, blood thrumming through his veins. The pleasure that explodes behind his eyes is blinding, a kaleidoscope of sensations so potent and overwhelming that it steals his breath away,

Henry collapses next to Alex, who instantly turns towards him, draping a leg over Henry’s thighs and an arm across his chest. As they both catch their breath, Henry hopes the wonder in Alex’s eyes mirrors his own. Their fingers intertwine over Henry's chest, and Henry keeps his gaze fixed on Alex, admiring how his eyelashes flutter prettily against his cheeks as he fights to stay awake. An exhale escapes Henry's lips, a contented sound mingling with the heady scents enveloping them— the musk of sweat, the lingering trace of their lovemaking, and that indescribable, intoxicating essence uniquely Alex.

For a few minutes, they doze off, basking in the afterglow, their breath synchronizing until the stickiness on Henry’s stomach becomes uncomfortable. Henry softly presses a kiss to Alex’s forehead and gently caresses his arm to rouse him. “We should clean up, love.”

“M’comfy,” Alex mumbles, shifting his leg and brushing against Henry’s cock, which, to Henry’s surprise, twitches with interest.

"Seems someone is eager for another round," Alex teases playfully, one eye cracking open to reveal a mischievous glint.

"Do you think there's enough space for both of us in the shower?" Henry quips, raising an eyebrow as amusement dances in Alex's gaze. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Alex's eyes light up with mischief. "Only one way to find out," he declares, seizing Henry’s hand and tugging him toward the bathroom.

They step into the bathroom, and soon, the sound of rushing water fills the air. They both manage to squeeze into the surprisingly spacious shower, warm water cascading over their bodies.

Henry wraps his arms around Alex, pulling him close until they are pressed together under the spray. "Looks like I was right," Henry murmurs, his voice low and playful.

Alex grins, tracing a finger along Henry's jawline. "You're right more often than I like to admit," he teases, tipping his head back to let the water soak his hair.

With a sly smile, Henry leans in, capturing Alex's lips in a slow, passionate kiss before Alex falls on his knees, taking his sweet, sweet time to take Henry apart, and Henry sighs blissfully, his heart swelling with love at the care and devotion in Alex’s every touch.

Once done with the shower and having dried themselves, Henry climbs back on the bed, ready for a cuddling session with his boyfriend - yes, he’s aware they haven’t labeled it yet or even properly talked. Still, to be honest, he’s already planning his proposal in his head. He’s that far gone, and he is absolutely fine with it.

But Alex doesn’t follow him, lingering in all his naked glory next to the bed, a look of uncertainty on his face, and Henry’s heart stops for a second.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a tremor in his voice, suddenly wary of what Alex might say, of having completely misread what happened between them.

“Should I…I mean…Do you want me to go back to my room?” Alex asks tentatively, his vulnerability tugging at Henry's heartstrings.

Henry’s heart breaks a little because he’s familiar with Alex’s dating history, his struggle with his ADHD, and how it has affected most of his relationships. His partners deemed him ‘too much’ after a few weeks, sometimes even a few days. The irony is that what those people saw as flaws are some of the numerous reasons why Henry loves Alex so deeply.

He’s not too much. He’s absolutely perfect. And Henry will make sure that Alex hears it every day for the rest of their lives.

“What I want is for you to bring your gorgeous ass back to bed with me and not go back to your room tonight. Or ever, preferably.”

Relief floods Alex's features, his lips curling into a smile as he swiftly joins Henry under the covers. Their bodies fit together seamlessly like puzzle pieces, seeking closeness and comfort. Henry's hand glides in lazy patterns over Alex's back as they nestle together, Alex nuzzling his nose against Henry's neck, peppering soft kisses along his throat.

“Hen?” Alex’s voice breaks the silence.

“Mmmh?”

“Just to put it out there…” Alex's voice wavers with a mix of nerves and sincerity.

Encouraged by Henry's loving smile, Alex takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on Henry with intent. A slow smile spreads across his face as if reaching a decision.

“I love you.”

Henry’s smile matches his own, and a happy laugh bubbles out of his chest. Leave it to Alex to pour out grand declarations immediately after their first night together. Henry is so in love with this man that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I love you too, darling,” he whispers against Alex’s lips.

They will have time tomorrow to have a deeper conversation, but at this moment, as their mouths come together in a fervent kiss, no other words are necessary.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #roommates to lovers #best friends to lovers #bottom Alex #Sophie1973

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