#but this is a real person who was forced to come out because they were harassed online
Note
#76 broken pieces for whatever two characters you would like, please.
I have a brainwave that these two needed to share a scene - so here they are.
This was the third date this month.
It felt funny, saying that, that Molly was going on a date, but Billie wasn't sure she had any other word for when a fellow dropped by in a nice suit, picked up a girl in a nice dress, and the two of them went out to dinner.
A date. Could you even imagine? It was Berlin and the war was over and they were going on dates again, real dates, where you spent time cleaning yourself up first and the fellow actually had a front door to show up at. Not like they'd done during the war, where a date could be meeting a guy for dinner in the next foxhole, or sharing a blanket, or watching a fire. Any spare five minutes alone.
But here he was, on the front mat, shoes shined and hair combed. She wondered what they were paying him - his suit looked too nice for Berlin. Everything here was shabby after six years of war, and he looked out of place in the hallway. "Mr. Rosenthal." She opened the door and let him inside before returning to her seat at the table.
"Sergeant Mitchell."
"She's almost ready - she found a run in her stocking and had to change."
He shrugged. "We're not in any hurry."
Billie nodded, and returned cagily to her magazine, glancing up to follow his eyes around the room, taking in the small bits of art on the walls, some of it stuck up with tape, the calendar in the kitchen, the dishes in the drainer by the sink.
George Stout wasn't ever one for running a really military outfit, and the fact that they were Army without the Army meant private billeting rather than barracks. It was just the two of them in the apartment, though there were several other officers in the building, which was run by an absolutely ancient little old lady who knew very little English. (Molly was trying to learn German, just to get by a little with her, but the Army phrasebook wasn't getting them very far.)
He looked a picture, standing there in the front room - you could say that much. He would have looked even more handsome in class As, with that dark dark brown bringing his eyes out in full force and the mustache that made him look like Tyrone Power. An easy charmer, one of the gang would have said. But she'd known easy charmers before. What do you know about him, Mol? Like, really know? Apart from the blue eyes and the curly hair and the manners and the smile and the fact that he can't sing? He's been coming here for a month and what is he? A hotshot pilot and a lawyer and what else? What's he hiding? Where's the catch?
Because there's always a catch, isn't there? With a boy like that. He's too good.
Billie rose from her chair and moved to put her now-cold cup of coffee in the sink. "I don't think she ever told me where you're from, Mr. Rosenthal."
"Brooklyn - Flatbush."
Billie had a sudden desire to call up Ruth and ask her what she knew about flyerboys from Flatbush. "And you still have family there? Parents, siblings? Girlfriend?"
He nodded. "My mother, and my sister." He smiled a little. "And no girlfriend."
Notice I didn't ask about a wife. "You still close with them?"
His smile never wavered for a moment. "My mother writes me nearly every week. Sister less often, but she'll put a word in Mom's."
"And your firm, are they - are they taking you back, when this is over?"
"I'm sure they will be." He moved closer to the kitchen and looked her in the eye. "You know, I could provide personal references, if that would take less time, Sergeant. Former commanding officers, friends - my rabbi." He smiled at her surprise. "I'm a lawyer. I know what an interrogation looks like."
Billie squared up, her eyes meeting his with no hint now of gentle prying. If you thought the rabbi was going to trip me up, I'll tell you now I don't care. "I like having all the facts." And the fact is that I don't know you, Robert Rosenthal, and I don't like that.
"And the fact that I like Molly an awful lot?"
See, you say that and I believe you, and I hate that I do. "Lots of guys can say they like a girl, Mr. Rosenthal. Maybe even use the word love. Doesn't mean a thing later. I'm trying to establish intention and motive." There's been a war on. People say things they don't mean all the time. Isn't that why you have a job?
He was watching her with a kind of respect in his eyes, smile tugging at his mouth. "Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer, Sergeant?"
Billie felt off balance at the compliment. "The bar wouldn't have me."
He laughed at her casual brutalism, and glanced down at his shoes, considering his next words very carefully. "When you fly a bomber, the only guys you trust are the other nine in the plane with you. Imagine it's the same in a foxhole."
"After they've given you a reason to, sure."
"Guess I'll just have to work on that, then."
It was then, of course, when they were nose to nose and eye to eye that Molly walked in, beautiful in her dress uniform. "Billie Mitchell, are you interrogating him?"
Rosie stepped back, supremely unconcerned by all of it. "It's all right, Mol. We were just talking. It never hurt to have friends who care."
He calls her Mol. And he calls me Sergeant, because he knows we're not friends yet. That's what Ron did, too.
Billie met Molly's eye with a clenched jaw, almost afraid of what she'd find there. It's what you did for me, isn't it, care? And I never listened. But you're smarter and better than me, and you deserve better, too, better than broken promises and broken pieces of a heart. And if he is what he says, you deserve him, Molly. You deserve the world. And if he's not then I'll bury him.
"No," Molly said, softening a little, realizing what they were saying. "No, it never did." She sniffed and checked the fastening on her purse, fiddled with a button. "Will you wait up?"
Billie shook her head. "You'd better take the key. I'm not going out."
Molly nodded, grabbing the key and its chain from where it hung near the door and closing the door behind her as she and Rosie left. He would ask her, at dinner, what that had all been about, and perhaps Molly would tell him - or not. She fell in love with a guy she thought she knew. It ended like you think it did.
#asked and answered#noneedtoamputate#i have written a thing#mercurygraypresents#tds cinematic universe#masters of the air OC#masters of the air x oc#molly mahoney#molly x rosie#billie mitchell
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i love you (po5)
pato x introverted!reader
summary: feelings begin to rise after the barber race
wc: 716
notes: this is just me trying this (writing for indycar) out! pls be nice, i’ve only watched a few races and am still learning what’s what. also i promise i’m working on the george story!!
You winced at the screen in front of you, watching as Pato’s car came in contact with Pietro’s, sending the Rahal into the barrier. You hold a hand in front of your mouth as you watch Pato continue driving, grateful that he was okay.
You know he’s going to be upset about the penalty, the radio message coming through your headphones confirms that. He sounds frustrated, angry even.
You know he wanted to do well. For his career obviously, but you knew a small part of him wanted to do well for you. You were still fairly new to Indycar, having watched races from home, sometimes yours, mostly his after he told you he liked having you there when he got home.
This was only the second race you’d attended in person, the first being the previous week in Long Beach. You and Pato had a private relationship. He knew you were more introverted and didn’t want to force you into the limelight before you were comfortable. He was ecstatic when you told him you were ready to attend a race with him. After spending almost a year together, slowly building your relationship, he was excited to finally be able to show you off and introduce you to his other love, racing.
He kept an arm around you during the race weekends, giving you his Arrow McLaren hat to wear while he was driving. He introduced you to the team and showed you his car, rambling on about different things while you smiled and nodded along.
You could tell he was disappointed to finish in the midfield in Long Beach, and seeing him angrily get out of his car after the Barber race you knew he was equally if not more upset.
You stand quietly to the side while he talks with his engineer, following behind him as he walks to the driver lounge.
He keeps quiet as he unzips his race suit, letting it fall to his waist. He searches through a cabinet, finally pulling out a snack, and another he tosses to you.
You don’t know what to say to him, afraid of how he’ll respond. He speaks first though.
“Sorry it was a shitty weekend.” His eyes don’t meet yours as he sits down.
You sigh, sitting next to him. “That penalty was bullshit.”
He looks up at you surprised. He could probably count the amount of times he’d heard you curse on one hand. “It happens.” He shrugs.
“No, it’s not like you wanted to hit him, because why the hell would you want that? And they made you drive through the pit, dropping you down so far you were driving by yourself!”
The scowl on his face slowly disappears, turning into a smile as you keep talking to him, angrily defending your boyfriend.
“They need to open their damn eyes and watch a replay-”
“I love you!” Pato laughs.
You freeze, your eyes widening at the man sitting next to you. “You… what?”
It’s then that Pato realizes what he’s said. He wonders if he should backtrack, attempt to take it back to make the terrified look on your face go away. But it’s as if someone plays a video of your relationship in his mind, showing him all the time you’ve spent together and how you’ve grown with one another.
“I love you.” He says quietly. A blush covers his cheeks as he looks down at his lap. “I wanted the first time I told you to be special, but it just kinda came out just now.” He looks back up at you and sheepishly smiles. “Look, you don’t have to say it back, I know we’re taking things slow, and even having you here was a big step so I understand if-”
It’s him who’s cut off this time as you press your lips to his. You gently hold his face in your hands, pulling away to look into his eyes.
“I love you too.” You murmur.
He grins before leaning in to kiss you again.
“I’m gonna win one soon. A real win, not because someone DQ’ed, and it’s gonna be for you.” He says when he pulls himself away from you, keeping an arm wrapped around you tightly, as if he’s not planning on letting you go.
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So I’m a HUGE fan of angst. With Joe’s temper and with being unhinged from the war, any kind of physical affection can get a little rough. 😈 I feel like it’s totally his style and everyone needs to know it. Frienemies to lovers with angst and classy smut and a happily ever after is how we all deserve Joe Liebgott. 😘🥰 🪖♠️ 🦅
Oil and water - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+ content, smut (p in v), fingering, angry sex to soft sex, mentions of violence and war/death, cursing, 1st person POV (female), female body part descriptions.
A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.
A/N pt 2: I had so much fun with this request and wrote this faster than any of my other fics! I hope you like it, @she-wolf09231982lovely, and that I did it justice!! Please let me know what you think and if you want a different one done if I didn't quite hit the points you wanted. As always, feel free to leave comments, likes, and reblogs; they make me happy! :)
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Another punch echoes in the room, followed by more yelling. The man sitting in the chair can barely open his eyes as blood covers his entire face. I try to find any sense of morality and sympathy but come up with nothing. He's a replacement that got drunk, killed two German's and shot Chuck Grant in the head before stealing a car and trying to hide. He'd yet to show any type of remorse for his actions and the men around me were getting closer and closer to doling out their own personal justice.
Everyone got quiet and backed out of the way when Spiers came in like a dark thundercloud and hit the man across the face. In the blink of an eye, he had a gun pointed right at the man's face and just held it there. My stomach dropped and I glanced over at Liebgott next to me, but his face was dark and unfazed. Spiers would probably kill this man and no one was going to bat an eye. This was wrong. The war is over and we are still losing our friends and companions.
After a long, tense moment Spiers lowers his gun and commands us to take the man to the MP's. As he's walking away I hear him tell Tab that Grant is going to pull through, thanks to a Kraut doctor. For the first time since this night started I feel like I can breathe a little. I follow the rest of my company into the street as we follow Spiers' orders. Suddenly a scuffle erupts and our prisoner has briefly broken free from the group and is trying to run away.
I'm the closest to him and immediately run and tackle him to the ground. As I'm attempting to get him flipped around and restrained, he elbows me hard in the gut knocking the air out of me. As I'm trying to catch my breathe, a pair of arms lifts me up and I'm being pulled away from the group. Someone is steering me to an empty house and all I can hear is more yelling and fighting behind us.
Once we are inside and seating in someone's abandoned house on a couch, I look up to see who I'm with. Liebgott. To say I'm shocked is an understatement. We only look out for each other during battle, because that's our job and we are soldiers. The only times we semi get along is when we are around our friends and can use them as buffers. It's been a running joke through Easy that we are oil and water and should never be left alone together because we'd both end up dead. Now here we are totally alone and emotions are running off the rails.
"You hurt?" His face is stone cold and his voice is almost filled with disgust, like he was forced to look after me and didn't put himself in this situation.
"I'm fine. You can go." I bite out, wincing as I press on the tender spot.
"Stop being such an uptight bitch. Let me look." Liebgott rolls his eyes as he moves my hands away and lifts up my shirt. I glare at him and then glance down. The spot is a deep red and I can see spots where my blood vessels have burst. It's gonna be a hell of a bruise soon.
"Okay, you got to lift my shirt up. Good job. Go away." I shift out of his hold and cover my torso again. His glare hardens on me.
"What's your fucking problem?"
Scoffing, I jump up and pace a little ways away. "We just beat a fellow soldier bloody and Spiers almost shot him right in front of us. He deserves to be punished for what he did, but we can't start taking justice into our own hands. That's now who we are!"
"Spiers should have killed him. Grant is our friend. If anyone should give that punishment, it should have been one of us." His voice is cold and detached. We were never best friends, but it hurts a part of my heart to hear how this war has been changing him.
"Of course you would say that." I laugh humorlessly and spin to face him. He jumps up from the couch and stomps over to get in my face.
"What's that mean?"
"I heard about your little road trip the other day. I know shit's been different since Landsberg, but that's no excuse to go hunting people down and playing judge, jury, and executioner." I straighten my back and stand still as he leans further into my face. He's never focused so much anger towards me before but I'll be damn if I show any type of reaction to it.
"You don't know fucking shit. How can you? It's not your people that's been tortured and killed this whole war. Now why don't you go bat your pretty little eyes at someone who cares what you think and leave me the fuck alone."
Before I know it, I'm pushing him away from me. Hard. He takes half a step back and continues to glare at me. So I do it again, and again, until I'm beating at his chest with my fists. I'm so angry and he's the perfect target to let it out on. In the blink of an eye he has my hands in a death grip in one of his and is pushing me backwards with his other hand on my waist. He holds my hands above my head as my back hits a wall and keeps his hand on my waist.
I'm not sure who moves their head first, all I know is that we meet in the middle and it's not a kind or tender kiss. It's all teeth and tongue and biting. Neither of us want to submit so we keep at it until we are breathless and our lips are bruised. He releases my hands, which immediately fly to his hair to pull hard enough to make him wince, and places his newly open hand around my throat. When he applies pressure, I moan and press myself closer to him. A flash of something other than anger moves across his eyes; lust.
"You going to be a good girl and take what I give you?" His voice is low and rough. I feel myself clench around nothing. Never one to be agreeable with him, I just smirk.
"Fuck you." Joe just smirks back and shoves his hand that was on my waist down my pants and under my underwear.
"Feels like that's what you want." He watches my face as his fingers glide through my soaked folds, parting them to rub directly on my clit. Another moan escapes me but is cut short by his hand squeezing my neck again. "Eyes on me."
I open my mouth to say something flippant back but only a gasp comes out when I feel him shove two fingers inside me and start pumping them in and out. The hand on my neck alternates between squeezes and lightly stroking my skin. I keep my eyes on his face, taking in how clenched his jaw is and the way his pupils are blown wide. Another moan comes out when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.
He shifts closer to me, angling his hand so he can keep hitting that spot and rub my clit at the same time. His face stops when our lips are a hairs breathe away.
"That's my good girl. Take it." He places a soft kiss against my lips that's such a sharp contrast to the pressure on my neck and movement of his hand inside me. Joe leans his forehead against mine and keeps repeating his previous words as my orgasm gets closer and breaks through so hard I see stars.
As my vision starts to return I hazily watch him bring his soaked hand up to his mouth. The moan he lets out after tasting me is sinful and has me clenching again. When he's done, I pull his head back to mine, kissing and licking his lips begging for entrance. My own moan comes out when he opens his mouth and I taste myself on his tongue. Suddenly we are a blur of moving limps as we dispose of our clothes, not caring where they land and move back to the couch. We land with him on top of me and I roll my hips up to feel his erection slip through my folds.
Just as his tip slips in, Joe freezes above me and time stops. He's got one hand holding my thigh up around his waist and the other is on the arm of the couch, keeping him hovering over me. He trails his hand from my thigh, up my side, over my breast and up to cup my cheek. Our breathing slows down as we just look at each other, his hand holding my face like I might break if he's not careful. I run my own hand up his back and cup his cheek in the same fashion, gently pulling him towards me.
"Are you sure?" He whispers against my lips, eyes searching mine. They're softer now, the anger having melted away and now there's an open rawness in its place. I nod my head and whisper a soft 'yes' as I pull him into our first slow kiss of the evening.
Carefully, he pushes himself inside me and pauses again when he's bottomed out and our hips are flush against each other. We exchange more slow kisses and when I gently nip his lip, he knows it's okay to start moving. Once he sets the pace, slow, thorough and unrushed, we know this isn't just a simple fuck. Neither of us speak, just let ourselves get lost in the feelings as we moan and gasp against each others lips. As I start to clench around him signaling the approach of my second orgasm, I moan his name. Joe picks up the pace, some of the earlier frenzy returning as he focuses on pushing me over the edge again.
All I can keep saying is his name and after a few more thrusts, I'm seeing stars for the second time that night. I feel his thrusts become uneven as he chases his own release, moans flying out of his mouth. When he cums, he presses himself as far into me as he can and says my name like a prayer against my lips. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
Once we've stabled our breathing a little, we shift around so we are laying more comfortably on the couch, him still half inside me, completely entangled together. Joe leans up just enough to pull a blank from the back of the couch over us and tucks me back in against him. It's silent as we enjoy the afterglow and feel of each others skin.
"Did I hurt you?" Joe whispers, kissing the top of my head. I smile and kiss his chest.
"No more than I wanted you to." We share a small laugh. "I thought oil and water could never mix."
Joe pulls back enough to look at my face, "I don't think we are oil and water. I think we are something that can't be defined." He drops a kiss on my lips and then lays back down. "Now, get some sleep. We are going for breakfast tomorrow and then wherever you wanna go for the whole day."
I fall asleep with a smile on my face, not knowing he does too.
#joe liebgott#joe liebgott x reader#band of brothers#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers request#fanfic request#hbo war#hbo band of brothers
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bi ppl especially in public spaces are just completely fucked no matter what huh. come out and you're lying/actually gay/actually straight/want attention. don't come out and you're 'queerbaiting', or 'appropriating queer culture'
an 18yo being forced to come out bc a bunch of ppl wouldn't stop harassing them. constantly talking about how him holding hands with a girl makes him straight. accusing a real live person of queerbaiting.
ppl don't owe you their sexuality. they don't owe you shit
#if you use queer baiting in reference to a real person then you can get fucked with a cactus#the level of biphobia.... its getting to me today#and like whatever you think about the show is fine#but this is a real person who was forced to come out because they were harassed online#its fucked up.#kit connor#and like. every bi person in the public eye gets hit with this shit
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"The idea of reforming Omelas is a pleasant idea, to be sure, but it is one that Le Guin herself specifically tells us is not an option. No reform of Omelas is possible — at least, not without destroying Omelas itself:
If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were cleaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing, indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed. Those are the terms.
'Those are the terms', indeed. Le Guin’s original story is careful to cast the underlying evil of Omelas as un-addressable — not, as some have suggested, to 'cheat' or create a false dilemma, but as an intentionally insurmountable challenge to the reader. The premise of Omelas feels unfair because it is meant to be unfair. Instead of racing to find a clever solution ('Free the child! Replace it with a robot! Have everyone suffer a little bit instead of one person all at once!'), the reader is forced to consider how they might cope with moral injustice that is so foundational to their very way of life that it cannot be undone. Confronted with the choice to give up your entire way of life or allow someone else to suffer, what do you do? Do you stay and enjoy the fruits of their pain? Or do you reject this devil’s compromise at your own expense, even knowing that it may not even help? And through implication, we are then forced to consider whether we are — at this very moment! — already in exactly this situation. At what cost does our happiness come? And, even more significantly, at whose expense? And what, in fact, can be done? Can anything?
This is the essential and agonizing question that Le Guin poses, and we avoid it at our peril. It’s easy, but thoroughly besides the point, to say — as the narrator of 'The Ones Who Don’t Walk Away' does — that you would simply keep the nice things about Omelas, and work to address the bad. You might as well say that you would solve the trolley problem by putting rockets on the trolley and having it jump over the people tied to the tracks. Le Guin’s challenge is one that can only be resolved by introspection, because the challenge is one levied against the discomforting awareness of our own complicity; to 'reject the premise' is to reject this (all too real) discomfort in favor of empty wish fulfillment. A happy fairytale about the nobility of our imagined efforts against a hypothetical evil profits no one but ourselves (and I would argue that in the long run it robs us as well).
But in addition to being morally evasive, treating Omelas as a puzzle to be solved (or as a piece of straightforward didactic moralism) also flattens the depth of the original story. We are not really meant to understand Le Guin’s 'walking away' as a literal abandonment of a problem, nor as a self-satisfied 'Sounds bad, but I’m outta here', the way Vivier’s response piece or others of its ilk do; rather, it is framed as a rejection of complacency. This is why those who leave are shown not as triumphant heroes, but as harried and desperate fools; hopeless, troubled souls setting forth on a journey that may well be doomed from the start — because isn’t that the fate of most people who set out to fight the injustices they see, and that they cannot help but see once they have been made aware of it? The story is a metaphor, not a math problem, and 'walking away' might just as easily encompass any form of sincere and fully committed struggle against injustice: a lonely, often thankless journey, yet one which is no less essential for its difficulty."
- Kurt Schiller, from "Omelas, Je T'aime." Blood Knife, 8 July 2022.
#kurt schiller#ursula k. le guin#quote#quotations#the ones who walk away from omelas#trolley problem#activism#introspection#discomfort#reform#revolution#suffering#ethics#morality
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reverse call out post
i have noticed that SOMETIMES it really bothers folks to discover i am sincere and not playing a character. that tinglers are deep artistic expression. i think it because these few buckaroos are often kind and even politically left but had problematic ways just a few years back
these buckaroos are forced to confront their previous assumptions about neurodivergence and queerness, which is bound to happen as time trots on and cultural landscape evolves. but this sudden realization they have about themselves apparently MUST be ignored and pushed away
theres BIG TIME buckaroos on this very platform who publicly made fun of and gatekept my autism. these posts are STILL THERE. folks questioning my bisexuality. and these are buds who at one time worked with chuck and were pretending to ‘like me’ in way that i now see was irony
these are a previous generation of liberal ‘comedy forum’ buds who laugh and laugh at ‘ridiculous bad erotica’ and wrote as a money scheme. those who would later say with concern ‘chuck tingle is homophobic for making fun of queer erotica’. the same THEY might gleefully write
and i think their reaction is a way to deal with truth that THEY were doing these things ironically and have ABSOLUTELY NO CONCEPT that someone else couldve been creating joyful queer neurodivergent art during the same timeline with sincerity instead of irony.
so now as chuck gets taken more seriously they have to confront something. question of ‘wait, was i laughing at a real person the whole time? was i calling someone homophobic when in reality it is much more homophobic to MAKE that accusation, because queerness is not a monolith?’
old posts calling out chuck as fake, dehumanizing me, gatekeeping my place on spectrum of autism AND sexuality are still up. they wont be addressed because these folks cannot ever acknowledge they treated someones very existence as a joke. they will not admit THEY needed to grow
and honestly buckaroos, I FORGIVE THEM. nobody is dang perfect and the internet is swirling with irony poisoning. those folks on old forums were BATHING IN IT DAILY. it does not bother me because it is the past, but pondering on it during moments like this i am compelled to write
i do not bring this up to punish for past, but to hope buckaroos remember lesson in the future: you do not need to gatekeep. you do not need to make yourself the arbiter of others lifestyle and identity. you do not need to score online points as a way of proving your goodness.
proving love is complicated sometimes, and a big part or that complicated journey is accepting there are some unique buckaroos out there, buds who actually ENJOY making neurodivergent art and expressing their queerness in unique ways. who need time to learn THEMSELVES through art
it is my belief and suggestion that buds allow others this space. to accept them as they come. to TROT WITH THEM INTO THE FUTURE. thats a heck of a way to prove love is real. i think we can make this trot of sincerity together and DANG am i looking forward to it. LOVE IS REAL
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freaky friday
OR… that one time you woke up in luke castellan’s body, told from the perspective of percy jackson.
Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Demeter!Reader
Word Count: 4.2k
Content: the most loser loser!luke has ever loser-ed. this is sooo unserious like pls.
꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷
Percy Jackson had only been at camp for a day, but he was completely sure that something was wrong.
It started early Sunday morning — well, when he thought back on it, he guessed it might have started late Saturday night, when he woke up to a few of the older campers (Luke included) sneaking off out of the cabin and not coming back until the sun was peeking through the horizon.
But he didn’t really think about it until Sunday morning — when the thing that startled him out of sleep was a loud shout of “Holy Fuck!” echoing from the bathroom. He sat up, startled, and eyed the door along with everyone else. Then there was a yelp.
“Oh my gods. No — this is, this isn’t real. Am I still — oh don’t touch that. That’s not yours. Jesus, Luke — No. Stop looking. Oh my gods.”
A few campers shared some wary glances, asking the silent question of who’s going to investigate? Eventually, Chris (Percy thought, one of Luke’s friends from yesterday), stood up with a sigh and a raised brow, stepping over sleeping bags until he stood outside of the door. He looked at them all, the curious eyes of literally every kid there, and knocked slightly. There was another yelp.
“Uh…” Chris blew out a puff of air, “Are you okay in there?”
A few seconds of tense silence, then the door cracked open and Luke Castellan stuck his head out. He looked at Chris, at all the kids staring at him, and smiled stiffly, “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
He shut the door once more, the force blowing Chris’ hair back for a brief moment. The boy shrugged and nodded at everyone else to start getting ready because it was almost time for breakfast. He headed over to Percy, asked how his first night was, and left him to gather his bearings before they had to leave.
The kids attempted to forget about Luke’s debacle in the bathroom, but when they started to get impatient about his hogging it, all disregard of his personal business went flying out of the window. One kid mustered the balls to knock, and then another shouted through the wood for him to hurry up.
Just as one of the Stoll brothers was about to pick the lock himself and check out the situation, the door flew open, and Luke frowned at them from the doorway, “I’m done, my gods.”
They looked at him — he was leaning against the now open door, hip bucked out and not a care in the world that he was in nothing but his underwear. He glanced at them, then at the kid who Percy thought was called Conor, and sneered in his face until the kid flinched back. When he did, Luke pushed the bathroom door until it hit the wall and gestured dramatically inside, “In you go.”
Percy didn’t think he was the only one who was shocked by Luke’s sudden show of attitude. Sure, he’d only known the guy for a day, but he’d been super nice the whole time. Even when Percy was ready to give up on finding his skill, Luke was supportive and kind. Now, he just looked irritated at everyone in the room. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person.
Yeah, that was probably it.
Percy decided to let him wake up a bit instead of irritating him with questions about how the morning routine at camp usually went. Instead, he followed the lead of the kids around him and got himself ready before lining up along the wall. His face bloomed red when someone had to tell him to go to the back because he was new, but other than that he was doing somewhat alright.
Chris and Luke were arguing quietly in the corner, being careful to ensure nobody else could hear their murmurs. At one point, Luke stepped up so he was nose to nose with Chris and the boy put his hands on his chest to push him back — only for Luke to sharpen his eyes down at them with such a scandalised look that even Percy was slightly confused from where he stood and watched. Luke folded his arms over his chest indignantly and Chris sent him a dumb look before muttering something that made Luke straighten and drop his arms once more.
When the boys ceased their conversation and walked over, the kids pretended as if they hadn’t been watching their entire time
“Okayyy.” Luke spoke, huffing out a breath. He shot his hands out and waved them, “Let’s go.” Nobody moved, and he furrowed his brows, “Uh, onwards and upwards? Hop to? En guarde?” Silence greeted him and he rolled his eyes, clapping loudly, “Can yall just fuckin’ move?”
The kids at the front flinched slightly, deciding it best to just leave rather than wait for him to say his usual morning pick-me-up. Clearly he was having a bad day and they chose to leave him to his own devices. Percy followed at the back, and couldn’t help but listen as Chris muttered to him once more from behind him.
“Can you at least try to act like a normal person, please?”
“I am acting normal.”
“Luke Normal.” He paused, waiting. Percy guessed Luke must’ve agreed silently because the next thing he said was, “Thank you. Now get to the front of the line like the cabin counsellor you are.”
Luke huffed, pushing past Percy to get to the front of the line. Chris followed, whispering something about Luke having a bad day and to just ignore him before jogging to catch up. The blonde boy had never felt so awkward — the only friend he’d made and the guy was skulking around like he hated the world only twelve hours after they’d met.
He tried to brush it off by focusing on his breakfast — blue pancakes, blue cherry coke. Okay, not the healthiest option but he was having a bad weekend, let him live.
Chiron came to find him a bit after that, asking Percy how he was settling in and if he was ready for the Capture the Flag game they were playing later.
After that, Percy tried to avoid the prying eyes of Annabeth by spending his free hour in the Hermes cabin where she couldn’t get to him — only to walk in on something a lot more awkward.
Luke was lying on the floor, groaning in pain. The smiley Demeter girl he had introduced Percy to the day before was on top of him, also groaning in pain.
“Uh, are you guys okay?”
They flinched, scrambling off each other and pulling themselves to their feet. Luke brushed himself off and looked at Percy wide eyed, “It’s not what it looks like!”
“Seriously.” The girl said when Percy raised his brow. She shook her head slowly, “We would never —“
“Yeah.” Luke scoffed, “Like never ever.”
The girl — Percy was still trying to remember her name — turned her head and looked at him blankly, “Okay. That wasn’t needed.”
“I’m just clarifying.”
“You didn’t need to sound so disgusted about it, though.”
“Oh my god.” Luke scoffed a chuckle, shaking his head, “You’re such a guy.”
Percy screwed up his face, and Luke suddenly backtracked, “Uh, I mean — such a lie…er.” Even he looked confused by what he’d said. He straightened up and scoffed, waving his hands, “She wants me so bad. Right? Bro?” He held out a fist, but Percy just looked at it.
The girl, who had swiftly knocked his hand back to his side and stepped slightly in front of him, smiled kindly like she had yesterday when she’d asked how Percy was feeling about the sudden change in his life. “Sorry for scaring you, Perce. We’re just talking about something. Did you have a question?”
“Yeah, actually.” He looked at her, “Are you in pyjamas?”
She looked down at herself like she was just remembering her white tank top and fleece pyjama pants with bats printed on them, and Luke laughed into his fist. Upon hearing his chuckles, she swivelled back to glare at him, “Hey, don’t laugh at me! Would you rather me undress you?”
“What?” Percy asked. He was ignored.
Luke took a step back and held up one finger, “Uh, no. I don’t need you looking at my tits, perv.”
“What?” Percy tried again.
The girl scoffed, looking away from him and muttering under her breath, “Kinda hard not to when they get hot in the night and climb out of your shirt.”
Luke gasped and put his hands to his chest, “Oh my gods.”
“I tried not to look but they were right there — !”
"Well — " Luke stammered for a rebuttal, eventually pointing in accusation at the girl beside him, "You had morning wood!
"What — ?!"
“Hey, guys!” Percy finally interrupted, and they looked at him in surprise like they’d forgotten he’d been standing there the whole time. “What the hell is going on?”
The two shared a look, but it was you who stepped forward and looked at him kindly, “Nothing you should worry about. You’ve had a tough weekend already, just pretend you never saw us.”
Percy was tempted to refuse and force them to spill the beans, but they were two older campers who could very well send him to detention or whatever it was they did here for punishment — he wasn’t keen on finding out. So he left with a nod and closed the door behind him.
Your voice drifted through the window, “—can’t believe you wear batman pyjamas.”
“At least I wear pyjamas.” Luke responded, “You left very little to my imagination this morning.”
He walked off before he could hear anymore.
He didn’t see either of you again until just before lunch. He was walking through camp with Grover, half-listening to his friend yap about a blueberry bush he thought was cute, when they passed you and your sisters giggling about something near the forges.
“Gods, he’s cute, though.” One of them was saying, eyeing up a boy with soot all over his face. Percy couldn’t see much of him to determine him as cute, but your sisters seemed to agree with a loud dreamy sigh.
“He is, don’t get me wrong.” Another girl added, “But consider this: Lee Fletcher.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“He’s got potential. He’s got potential.”
Percy found himself slowing down, the teenage boy in him wondering if someone would mention his name. Of course they wouldn’t — he’s twelve, and they’re all around yours and Luke’s age, but a boy could dream.
One of the girls clicked her tongue, looking at you, “Who was it you said was sorta dreamy the other day?”
Percy watched you freeze, suddenly looking very awkward. You took a deep breath in and pretended to think about what you were going to say, but one of your sisters chimed in for you.
“It was Astor. The Ares kid with the curly hair.”
“Oh yeah!”
“What?” You exclaimed, scrunching up your face. When your sisters looked at you all confused, you backtracked, “Uh, I mean yeah he’s…cute.” You forced the word out with difficulty, “But, I dunno. There's cuter guys out there.”
“Oh?” Your sister said, interested, “Who are you thinking?”
Now you were on the spot. You swallowed, making these exaggerated facial expressions that Percy assumed were you trying to convince the girls that you had just come up with this idea, when you’d actually probably been wanting to say it the whole time you’d been talking and just needed an excuse, “Oh, I don’t know…” You shrugged, “Luke Castellan’s sorta…y’know?”
The girls looked between each other, and you watched with slight anticipation. Then one of them, the one who had mentioned Lee Fletcher earlier, said, “I swear you said he was too full of himself.”
“What —?”
“Yeah, she did.” The other chimed in, “You said he would be cuter if he didn’t — what was it? — flaunt around camp like he had the biggest cock out of all of ‘em.”
The girls laughed, and you attempted a weak chuckle, but it sorta looked like you were in pain. Percy thought it best to walk off after that, looking for Grover who had long since left him to his eavesdropping devices and presumably wandered off into the forest to look for Blue the blueberry bush.
So maybe Percy should’ve pressed harder when he’d cornered you and Luke earlier that morning. He thought he could brush it off, even when he kept seeing Luke lift up the hem of his shirt and poke at his abs in wonder, or when he saw you pushing your hair out of your face once every ten seconds before finally putting it in the messiest ponytail he’d ever seen. It was as if you had lost all sense of self overnight, like you'd never actually seen your own bodies before. It creeped him out, but he held back on asking. Maybe it was a demigod thing he hadn't been taught yet.
The straw that broke the camel's back, however, was after dinner. Usually when the nymphs take the plates away and the campers start to trickle down to the campfire, a few odd groups would stay behind at their tables, gossiping or finishing their desert until they had to get up and go — not only were you and your siblings part of this group of people, but so were Luke and Chris (and, by default because he had nobody else to hang out with, Percy).
So the newcomer had the fortunate opportunity to bear witness to possibly the greatest series of events he’d ever seen (and he once saw a rat the size of a small dog eating a small dog).
It all started when a girl from the Aphrodite table stood up and walked over to where the boys were sitting.
“So, if you do ever want to sneak out to the forests, don’t go through the pavilion.” Chris was explaining, “Mr D has a birds eye view of the whole place from his bedroom window, so you gotta sneak as close to the Big House as you can get. But make sure to duck under the windows just in case Chiron is trotting around in there.”
“And be careful around cabin four.” Luke butted in, “They have vines that spring out of the floor whenever a non-Demeter kid gets too close during the night.”
Chris turned to his brother with a look, “How do you know that?”
“Oh, uh — ”
“Hey, Luke.”
Three heads turned to the edge of the table where she was standing — a pretty girl with short blonde hair, a few strands dyed pink near the front. She was smiling at Luke cheekily and Percy noticed Chris send his brother a smirk.
“Uh, hi…” Luke trailed off, squinting.
“Laura.” She finished with a frown.
“Laura!” He exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “I knew that. I did.”
“Cool.” She said slowly, brushing off the moment and bouncing around the table to sit next to him on the bench. She leaned on her elbows into his side and Percy watched him shuffle back, only for Chris to push him right back forward. “So, uh, I had fun…last night.” She side eyed Percy across the table, but the boy just pursed his lips awkwardly.
“Really?” Luke responded, a little shocked. He nodded, “Well, uh, me too?”
Laura grinned widely at that, back straightening, “I’m so glad we agree.”
Percy wasn’t so sure Luke agreed, he wasn’t even sure the guy remembered whatever saucy interaction she was referring to. But he was pretending to, for her sake. He blinked at her silently, but she just looked as if she was waiting for him to say something — Percy was only young, but he’d seen enough movies to know that she was waiting for him to suggest they do it again sometime.
He did not. Instead he twisted his body away from her and back towards Percy, smiling at him, “Wanna head to the campfire, get some good seats?”
The boy was moments away from responding, but Laura clearly wasn’t taking his silence as an answer. She pulled Luke back to face her by his arm and blinked up at him, “I was just about to suggest we skip the fire tonight. Just us, y’know?”
Chris cleared his throat and stood, ushering for Percy to do the same, “Let’s go, lil bro.”
“Wait — “ Luke stood with them, staring back with a silent plea of help. Chris wasn’t having it, just grinning at him.
“Have fun, Luke.” He snorted, “See you later.”
“No, you can’t — ” He started, but Laura was yanking him back with a high pitched giggle.
“You heard him, Luke.” She smirked, “No one's gonna notice we’re gone, loosen up.” She ran a slow finger down his torso, and Percy watched him visibly tense up. He didn’t understand why she hadn't taken the hint already.
Chris seized Percy by the wrist and began to pull him away, occasionally looking back and giggling like a schoolgirl, with the odd snort. The younger boy didn’t really want to look back, but then when he heard Luke yelp like a girl, well…
He had to. And thank the gods he did.
Luke was sprawled on the table like a scared rabbit and Laura was standing with one hand hanging limply in the air, looking confusedly at his stance. Chris burst into loud laughter when he noticed Luke’s legs were spread and the boy was trying really hard not to look at his own crotch.
They walked over when it was clear someone needed to intervene, and Percy noticed the Demeter girls from before joining them — you were at the front, looking panicked and slightly annoyed.
"What's going on?" You asked, looking between the two of them.
"Nothing." Laura said plainly, "We were just talking."
Luke looked at you, “She — uh, she grabbed your — uh, your — ”
He gestured between his legs with a shaky hand. Percy raised a brow, as did everyone else at the scene. Except for Laura, who began to cackle loudly, bending over at the hips and bracing her hands on her thighs. The rest of the kids stared at the pair with varying expressions, and Laura straightened up, wiping under eyes with a giggle before pointing between you and Luke.
“You guys — oh my gods — ” She laughed again, shaking her head and trying to breathe long enough to get her words out, “Holy Hades, Castellan. I’m — I’m sorry.”
She held her hands up in surrender, looking at you now, “I am. I didn’t know you guys were dating. I guess I took mine and Luke’s conversation the wrong way, but — ” Another wheeze, “And I shouldn’t be laughing, but he just referred to his penis as yours, and I — ”
“Laura, it’s not like — ” You stepped up with a wince, trying to alleviate the growing tension between the group. The Aphrodite girl wasn’t listening.
“I just think that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard since…” She took a moment to think, catching her breath and smiling at herself as she thought about it. Eventually, she gestured to you with a laugh, “Well, since last night when you called Graham Lee an extra-terrestrial ass-kisser.”
Luke licked his lips, taking a deep breath in and pushing himself off the table and to his feet. He went to say something to Laura, face serious, but then he stopped and knocked his head back in a slight movement. He looked around at nothing, as if he was recollecting a memory, and then he gasped and pointed a finger at you, “I did do that.”
“You called Graham Lee an extra-terrestrial ass-kisser?” You tilted your head at Luke, “Why?”
Luke shrugged, “He grabbed my ass.”
Laura scrunched up her face, looking between the pair of them, “Are you guys on drugs?”
"There aren't any drugs at this camp." You blanked. You brother laughed.
"Says the drug dealer."
You raised a brow in shock, like you'd had no idea about your own small business. You looked at Luke intensely -- Percy thought maybe you were trying to keep your drug dealing thing a secret, and Luke had gone and spilled the beans. That would explain why he suddenly looked so sheepish. It wouldn't explain why you then said, "Well I am not on drugs."
"Then what is wrong with you guys?" Someone finally asked the question Percy had been sitting on since he watched you hover your hands over your own boobs before retracting them quickly as if it was against some demigod rule to touch your own body — only for Luke to see from afar and have some very stern words to say about it.
Finally, after ten seconds of intense eye contact, you and Luke took in simultaneous breaths. It was you who spoke first, addressing the whole crowd — which consisted of Percy, Laura, Chris, and the Demeter kids — “We’re in eachother’s bodies.”
The Demeter kids made grossed out faces, but Chris just snorted into his fist and let the conversation go on. Percy had never been more confused in his entire life — and he had once thought his dad was Jesus.
Laura chuckled, “Yeah, we know that. His penis is yours, or whatever freaky shit yall are up to.”
“What?”
“No — ”
You and Luke spoke at once, each taking a single step forward. You paused, looking at each-other until you gestured at Luke with a sigh, letting him speak. He nodded, “We’re serious. We are in each other's bodies.”
“Freaky Friday style.” You jumped in before anyone could make a sex joke. You sent the group a sharp look, and then zeroed your eyes in on Percy, “That’s why we were acting so out of it earlier.”
It was silent for a long stretch — everyone looking between one another. Percy didn’t even know what to say. It did explain their strange behaviour, but —
“How the hell did you end up in each other’s bodies?” A demeter boy asked, holding a finger up like he was in class. The rest of them nodded, wondering the same.
“Well…” Luke sighed (or You sighed, he guessed. He was still confused), “At first we had no idea, but now I think it was Graham Lee.”
Another Demeter girl hummed, “He is a Hecate kid. It’d make sense that he put some freaky spell on you after you insulted him.”
Chris coughed, still red in the face from laughing into his shirt, “Okay, but why Luke?”
You shrugged, “Dunno. I’ve never done anything to the guy.”
Suddenly, Laura let out a long, “Oooohhhh.”
Everyone eyed her. She pursed her lips in embarrassment, although Percy definitely saw amusement in her eyes. She tucked some hair behind her ear and winced, “So, maybe we went to the clash together.”
“The what?” Percy asked, finally speaking up. The rest of the group looked at him as if only just realising he’d been standing there, suddenly looking sheepish.
“Uh, it’s a party.” Chris scratched behind his ear, “Older campers only, but if you don’t tell anyone about ‘em you can come to the next one.”
He shrugged, “Deal.”
“So, wait.” You pointed at Laura, “You went to the clash with Graham? Like with him?”
“Yeah.” She folded her arms indignantly, “But he was literally staring at you the whole time, so I left to flirt with Luke.”
Your cheeks dusted pink, and both Laura and Percy realised she was talking to Luke, not you. She turned to Luke, clearing her throat, “Sorry. He was staring at you the whole time. So I left to flirt with…uh, Luke.”
A collective breath ran through the group, everyone putting the pieces together in their own heads. Percy was still a little unsure, but he had the gist (maybe). Just as he was about to suggest they go find this Graham guy and ask him to undo his spell, one of the Demeter girls Percy had seen talking to you earlier gasped and looked between you and Luke with wide eyes.
“So when we were talking before…” She looked at you, “We were talking to Luke?”
You — or Luke, but as you — stammered, and Percy couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. Luke looked on, confused, and the girl looked at him with a smirk,
“Earlier, we were gossiping about hot guys.” She chuckled, pointing at you, “And Luke suggested his own name, as you!”
“What?” Luke exclaimed at you, partially appalled but also holding in a laugh.
You stammered for an excuse, but then her face contorted and she zeroed Luke with an accusatory stare, “Well, you said I walked around camp acting like I had the biggest cock out of them all!”
Luke scoffed, “You do.”
“I do not!”
“You kind do.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“You sorta do, man.”
You turned to Chris, scandalised, “Bro.”
The boy shrugged, “Sorry man. It’s true.”
Eventually, you managed to convince the kids to finally go to the campfire and leave Luke and yourself to fix your problem with Graham when you got down there. They agreed, although not without making as many jokes as they could on the walk down to the clearing.
“So, how did you guys pee?”
“Have you seen each other all naked and stuff now?”
“Did Luke have morning woo — ?”
“Alright.” You smacked Chris hard on the back for that one. “To your sections, please.”
Percy sat down on the end of a log, and watched as the two of you walked over to Graham and spoke to him in hushed but harsh tones. At one point, Graham was looking between you two with the most genuine look of confusion and Percy assumed he only agreed to reverse the spell because it was making his mind go all wobbly just talking to you.
When he saw Luke again, it was at lights out. Percy was tucking himself into his thin sleeping bag when the boy came over, crouching to his level and dropping something on his lap.
He lifted the bag of coins to his eyeline and then raised a brow at Luke, “What’s this for?”
“Drachmas.” He explained, “Just enough to get you a new shirt at the camp store. Or a thicker pillow, some three ply toilet paper. Whatever you want, really.” He shrugged, “Partly a welcome to camp gift, partly hush money.”
“Right.” Percy lowered the bag and levelled Luke with a curious look, “How was being in another person’s body? Weird?”
“Oh yeah.” He nodded, looking into the distance like he was having some awful flashbacks. Percy remembered seeing you walk out of the bathroom earlier, a look of terror plastered in your eyes.
He cleared his throat, “Well, thanks for the money.”
“No problem, kid.” He patted him on the shoulder, “Get some rest. It’s capture the flag day tomorrow and guess what?"
"What?"
"We're teaming up with Demeter."
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BABY DADDY RAFE!!
like they co parent but they aren’t really together, but the lines are a little blurred, like he’s always at the house to see his daughter but the lines get blurred when she’s put down for bed and the two of you cuddle and fuck on the couch
⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹
i just love the au because it forces him to be a little soft when it’s clear he’s so reluctant to be. he didn’t want a baby for that exact reason, he knew it was gonna make him sappy and he’s tryna handle business— but he quite literally cannot help himself when he comes round to see the kid and you’re standing in your little nightgown crying into your hands because he’s the first person you’ve seen all week, it’s been so lonely and isolating and you’re just so relieved that someone else is there to pick the baby up when it cries for just a little bit.
he doesn’t like that one bit. rafe is unhinged and an asshole at times but he doesn’t play about the mother of his child because that’s who looks after the baby and obviously the two of you had a connection for you to end up knocked up?? you cry to him, rambling about how hard it’s been and he’s there nodding furiously with his lips a lil parted and wide eyes trying to seem like a really active listener :(( drops the nonchalant act real quick
“hey, no tears alright? i— i didn’t know you were feeling like this. why the hell did you not call me? i told you, you can always call me about this shit.” wiping your tears away and pulling you into his chest :( “look, tell you what we’re gonna do okay? gonna leave the baby with rose for a few hours. gonna take you out for lunch, yeah? then— then okay, you’re gonna have a fuckin’ nap. ‘cos you look exhausted.” and you just can’t stop crying from relief, the weight being taken off you for a lil bit 😮💨
def starts making more of an effort after that, checks in all the time, fucks you when you need it, feeds you when you need it, falls in love with you by accident 🙄 combats every one of your complaints too. “i just have no friends now, rafe.” “fuck you talking about, kid. i’m your friend.” lmaooo
⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹
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AITA for choosing my cat over my trans friend?
Some background about my cat first.
I (25F) have a pet cat named Max (not real name. It would be too identifiable if I used his real name). Max is a rescue. He had been abandoned by his previous owner because he would meow too loudly. This had happened several times, so he has been in and out of the shelter a lot. None of the previous owners had tried to figure out why he always meows so loudly, so I took him to a vet. It turns out that Max is deaf, so I don't blame him for meowing so loudly. He can't hear himself! He is scared of strangers and tends to hide, so I don't try to force him to come out if he doesn't want to. I also don't usually take pictures of him because the cameras and phones scare him. I just do what I can to respect his boundaries. Max isn't just a cat to me. He is my treasured family who brings a smile to my face everyday. I can't imagine life without him.
My friend, Amelia (22F) is trans. Her folks are transphobic and were not accepting of her when they found out. However, they had not kicked her out of her home right away. They had given her a week to pack her things and find a place to stay. I'm not sure what they were trying to do with that but another friend, Nina (24F) thinks that they did that as a manipulation tactic to get Amelia to retransition and Amelia thinks so too.
But the week had passed and Amelia couldn't find a place to stay. Nina had said she would have offered, but she lives in a small apartment that hardly had enough room for two people. So Amelia had asked out friend Ted (26M) who had also said he couldn't because he was housing his younger siblings since their parents had passed and he was struggling financially.
So that left me. But Amelia said she wouldn't be able to stay unless I got rid of Max. Why? Amelia is highly allergic to cats. Whenever she had come over to my place in the past, she had to take allergy medicine to keep from having severe allergies around Max. The allergies are bad enough that they could trigger an asthmatic attack. I told her that I refuse to get rid of Max because of his past with being abandoned. I do not want to become one of the people he distrusts, not after it took so long to get him to feel comfortable around me.
Amelia is upset with me for this and says that she doesn't want to have to always take allergy medicine. She said that I should get rid of Max because he is just a cat and his needs are not as important as hers when she could become homeless soon. I argued that he wasn't just a cat and was part of my family. Max would be staying no matter what. Amelia ended up renting a motel room, but she couldn't afford to stay for more than 4 nights. Nina ended up taking her in, but that has made her own living situation harder.
Amelia and Nina are calling me an asshole for choosing Max over giving Amelia shelter. They are saying that I am being a horrible ally and friend by valuing an animal over a human life. I don't think I made the wrong choice by choosing Max, but it doesn't feel great that they are starting to tell some other friends that I am being transphobic for not choosing Amelia. A part of me is saying that I should have chosen Amelia, but that same part is also saying I would fee guilty for being one of the people to also abandon Max if I chose to do that. Amelia and Nina barely talk to me aside from saying that I am being a transphobic asshole for "choosing an animal over a trans person's livelihood." I am thinking about just cutting them off now, but I'm afraid that would just lead to more backlash.
AITA for choosing my cat over my trans friend?
What are these acronyms?
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silly low effort dating Lucifer headcanons —
I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE’S THE SILLIEST EVER. Anyways, now that we have that out of the way.
He is very touchy with you, especially after you guys start dating. He constantly has his hand on your shoulder, arm, in your hair, or on your leg.
He’s been so touch starved ever since Lilith left him. So he’s always chasing that kinda of comforting physical touch.
Also, probably just always clinging to your arm, no matter what you’re doing too. He’s just there, hanging around.
I said in another post he likes to play with your fingers, rings, hands, bracelets, etc when he rambles on about whatever is interesting him.
”I had another Idea for a rubber duck that blows bubbles but I never really got around to it, plus there’s always—“ and he’d be fiddling with your hands the entire time.
He also has a thing for being called really lovey-dovey pet names. Princess, sweetheart, babycakes, pretty boy, things like that.
I swear they have him on the floor blushing every time, especially if you play it up well enough.
”You look so good today,” and then you strut over to him and tilt his head up to look at you, “my pretty boy.”
Hes in shambles oh my god. Probably giggling and putting his hand over his mouth to conceal his dorky grin.
Up the stakes by taking his hand and kissing it gently, never breaking eye contact.
“Oh— oh my—“ he would stutter out. “Darling how… charming.”
But he’d be tomato red and giggling the whole time.
Not a lot of people acknowledge this, but he can be very snobby too.
Of course, he’s the king of hell. Why shouldn’t he be? He also hold himself to a standard above sinners because, in his words, ‘they’re just the worst.’
So he’d be lowkey snooty and proud in public sometimes. And he’s a little rich boy too so don’t be surprised if he complains about how:
“This restaurant serves their lamb too cold. You know, we don’t have to eat here. I have pancake batter at home sooo…”
If you end up calling him out on it he’d feel bad about being so bratty and tip the waitress an outrageous amount.
Also, i’m sorry this man is a little spoon through and through. Let’s be real right now. He’s so tiny he absolutely dissolved in your arms.
Which is very comforting for him on bad days when he just wants to be held by you.
He also, even though he acts all high and mighty when it happens, loves being manhandled by you.
Maybe he’s overworking himself and so you just sneak up behind him and throw him over your shoulder.
He'd bang his fists on your back and demand to be treated with dignity, as if he couldn’t overpower you in seconds.
Also, you catch him talking to his rubber ducks A LOT. For a while they were probably all that he talked to it’s kind of sad to watch.
But in a cute way? He has names for them all and specific personalities. He’ll be showing you his collection and be like “Oh, george likes you!” after forcing you to hold a rubber duck for him.
Also a good cook, I don’t know why I just feel like he is. But like very oddly specific dishes too.
He makes a mean gourmet mac and cheese with parmesan on the top.
He likes to dance with you too, whether it’s slow dancing or you two are just being silly, he likes to feel your body warmth on him while you two move together.
Also, i’m pretty sure we all ready know… autism. I’m not even projecting this time either, it just might as well be canon.
So he comes you to about any new hyperfixations he has at the time because he trusts that you, above all people, will listen to him.
Once again he’ll play with your bracelets, or fiddle with his hands while he talks to you.
And of course, you listen, and even do your research later to make him feel like you really care.
He also loves making arts and crafts with you. Sometimes even with some friendly competition (incredibly competitive high-energy contests on who’s contraption works better.)
I also imagine you have to say things to him multiple times for him to hear you. It’s not that he can’t hear you, he’s just in his own little world, not paying attention at all to his surroundings.
”What, honey? Sorry, didn’t catch that last part—“
Then he’ll focus so hard on paying attention, that he’ll forget to actually pay attention and make you explain it another time.
I imagine he likes doing little tasks for you, so he can feel useful. Like running your laundry for you, doing the dishes, anything to keep him busy.
Also, it’d it earns words of affirmations from you, then it’s worth it.
Say you catch him scrubbing pots and pans to save you the effort. Come up behind him, put your hands on his hips and kiss his head before telling him how amazing he is. And how great full you are for him.
He’s beaming and smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
I also think he’s a morning person, so more often than not, he wakes you up with breakfast in bed.
He falls asleep so early at night it’s literally crazy.
Like you could be hugging him, even standing up, at nighttime and he would immediately get so drowsy.
You’d have to pick him up bridal style and carry him to bed, all the while he’s whining about how he’s “Not tired, yet! I still have so much to do.”
I think he also is a huge giggler like he just gets a kick out of everything you say and thinks you’re the funniest person alive.
Also, he’s a terrible ugly crier. Like his face scrunches all the way up, snot comes out of his noise, he makes god awful chocking noises.
It be kinda funny if it wasn’t so sad to watch to be honest.
Cries at super stupid things too, those dog commercials for example. But it’s so bad he could be being his goofy self and like making the milk and the carton of eggs talk to each other.
And he would get so invested in their ‘lives’ that he would start crying.
”No, Mr. Milk i’m sorry we can’t—“ sniff sniff “—be together. I DON’T LOVE YOU!” and now he’s crying.
He buries his face in your shirt when he cries and just, I have a specific noise in mind, violently squeaks and sniffs.
a/n — My tumblr was tweaking out when I wrote this. I don’t know what happened but if you saw this posted last night, no you didn’t.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel fluff#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer x reader#silly low effort headcanons
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window shopping • connie springer + ryomen sukuna x black fem reader
your two favorite fellow mall employees have a bit of a competition to see who can bag you first. Little did they know, you don’t want to choose.
word count: 3.7K
content + themes: crossover au, jeweler connie, foot locker manager sukuna (they’re both afro-latino coded in this idc), threesome tings (too many smutty things to list) car sex, heavy squirting, oral to name a few (.2 seconds of rimming), lots of humor, weed mentions, they call reader mami, miss and baby, she calls them both papi, crack ass post if I’ve ever written one.
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interesting. The one word you’d use to describe your work days at Center Pointe Mall. Although a gross understatement, it was still interesting..mainly due in part to what and who, rather..you encountered on a daily basis. Sure, the influx of customers and unfamiliar faces you saw during your employment at Sephora were most certainly wild cards. From the college girls who always mismatched their foundation to the business woman who needed that perfect skin care package to get rid of her crow’s feet..neither of them held a candle to those two..
“Good morning, miss. You look good today..like that hair on you.”
“Aye, good morning, ma. What’s that perfume you got on..’smell real good.”
it was like clockwork. Every day, as you entered for your shift, there they were. Stationed in front of their respective stores, ready to greet you. Flashing those beaming smiles, oftentimes with gold slugs in their mouth and with the same, sweet charm lacing their words. Ryomen Sukuna, who headed up the Foot Locker and Connie Springer, managing the jewelry shop which both just so happened to be conveniently placed on either side of your store. It made for fun times, for sure! When you’d have a slow day and you’d stand outside the doorway, vibing to the music they’d play because the top forty’s pop crap they recycled on repeat was driving you insane. Connie would talk to you from across the way as he waited for potential customers. Ryo, who was the manager, had other employees manning the store. He would come and interrupt the party none other than for the reason of chatting you up and getting on Connie’s nerves. Which made for quite the entertainment.
“Aw, hell. Here he go..Ryo, ain’t nobody talking to you, bruh. Gon’ somewhere.”
“Stay out of grown folks' business, Mr. Clean. I came to see my girl. What’s up with you, miss?”
which was so much more hilarious, considering the fact that the two of them? They were literally best friends! Dating back as far as middle school. Ryo was a couple years older but they were from the same neighborhood and were attached at the hip. Both exceptional basketball players and gifted artists. Drawing amazing artwork and a number of the tattoos they had on their bodies. Brilliant young men with wonderful personalities..how could you not adore them?! Regardless, all three of you would congregate outside of those doors and talk until customers came in and would even take your lunch breaks together. It was never a dull moment with those two, that’s for sure. Especially when it comes to vying for your attention. Buying your food, pulling your chair out and everything. They were perfect gentlemen despite their constant flirtation. Connie would use humor as a means to try and win your heart. Always spewing out corny jokes and making you laugh. Ryo was definitely the charmer of the pair..attempting to sweet talk you at every turn. One day, you were sitting next to Ryo in the food court with Connie in front of you as you grabbed the pink haired gentleman’s chin.
“You got such a pretty smile, Ryo.” And Connie was not having it. Immediately snorting as he sipped his drink, the chaos would ensue. “Yeah, cause he went and got them big ass veneers. Them extra large teef’…” prompting you to nearly spit out your drink and forcing your head down. You couldn’t take them anywhere! “..bet you eat corn on the cob whole. Chewing them muhfuckas like candy.” Knowing he was opening up a can of worms he wasn’t ready for.
“Worry ‘bout pedaling them fake ass chains, ConMan. Bubblegum machine ass necklace. Look at the diamonds, shit’s standing still..” And they’d go on forever, taking shots and licks at each other all day, putting you in the middle of it. “(Y/N), miss. Tell this baldheaded ass lil’ boy to leave you alone. We can go get a tester and put his ass outta business right now .” “Tell jumbo teeth to mind his business. Tight ass shirt on..bout to rip.” And you’d have to feign off their nonsense with laughter. “Y’all too much. I gotta go. I’ll see you boys later.” And both of them would instantly fluster at the sight of you waving goodbye. It was all but impossible when they’d watch those thirty inches of jet black hair and ass swaying simultaneously. Those plump, gloss covered lips; wearing your signature brown liner and beautiful features. A single nose piercing on the side of your left nostril..you were gorgeous. They couldn’t help but to admire. But soon, that innocuous affection turned to actual lust. Lust that was shared on all sides and unbeknownst to your bumbling boys..you wanted a piece of them both. They’d continue flirting, pining for your affection and even making a little wager without your knowledge to see who could bag you first..
but it was one night after work, when you were all seated in Ryo’s car. You in the passenger’s seat of his spacious, blacked out Trackhawk. He is in the driver’s seat and Connie was right behind you. Stationed in an empty lot not too far from the mall itself, the three of you would do as you had done several times:
“Here, your turn, (y/n).”
passing around a blunt and blowing smoke as you hotboxed..leaving a large cloud to fog up the already tinted windows. After four puffs, you were already beginning to feel the effects. Your eyes narrowed and began to glow red from the euphoria. But alas, your high was only about to increase tenfold when you’d drop quite a bombshell on them. They’d continue with their usual antics and alas, the question would arise again: who do you like more? And from there, they’d just go on and on, swearing that one or the other was the ideal choice. Ryo, with his deep raspy tone, would incite the behavior with the glide of a finger underneath your chin and that smooth talking. If it truly was a competition, you wouldn’t know how to pick. Granted, they were both so silly but there was a quality about each of them that you couldn’t resist. Ryo, with his overall sex appeal..this man was so charming and knew exactly what to say to get EXACTLY what he wanted.
“C’mon now, lil’ bro. I mean, I’d hate to hurt your feelings but don’t make the lady choose. It’s not even a question. Ain’t that right, miss?” Flashing you a wink in return.
but there was also Connie, who was a literal sweetheart. He had a more tactful approach to doing things. Despite all of the tattoos, chains and golds in his mouth, he had sort of this shyness about him. But in the same turn, you knew deep down, if given the chance, he’d show you that he wasn’t for play. “Don’t even play yourself like that, bruh. You know she would pick me everytime. Tell ‘em, mami. You just don’t wanna be rude..” Again though, you had no interest in making only one selection and rather..
“…who said I wanted to pick at all?”
leaving them both stunned and stopped dead in their tracks. At first, they were both a little taken aback. Completely misunderstanding what it was that you were saying. They figured that you meant that neither of them were on your radar and that you had no interest in being anything besides their friend. But once again, they were both wrong! With the look of shock still fresh on their faces, you’d waste no time in elaborating..starting with a kiss along Ryo’s jawline and whispering in his ear. . “I mean…why would I when you could both have me?” And it was then that their faces began to turn beet red! Illuminated with complete bashfulness. They knew that they had been pining after you something serious. Even making a few sexual innuendos here and there but never would they have guessed that you’d been down for something of this caliber.. “..you telling me y’all never thought about it? Because I have..all the time.” Uttering the confession with your tongue scaling the sides of his neck; flicking it over his tattoo. Meanwhile, your hand would snake to the backseat to massage Connie’s crotch. This silly little game was a moot point. What was the point of competition when they could simply work together to give you what you wanted?! Taking heed to your advances and obvious demand, they wasted no time in shifting gears.
“Well damn..if that’s the type shit you was on, all you had to do was let us know.”
Ryo, who was already groping your big, round tits, shoved his tongue between your lips and began to engage in a full blown make out session. Exchanging sloppy wet kisses, as you had been downing water in between your passes. Meanwhile, Connie would watch from the backseat, sort of aroused by the idea of spectating. He’d listen to your soft whimpers, the dirty words uttered into your ear and even how Ryo clasped your throat in his ink laden hands and immediately began to feel a pulse through the confines of his boxers. He’d discreetly cup the bulge and just slowly rub it as your ass jiggled from being folded over the console. Faint traces of saliva seeped from your mouths each time you both pulled away; only to find yourselves with one less article of clothing. Your hand had slipped into his black joggers and began tousling that growing erect around. You knew it was big by the visible print alone and could only imagine what it looked like. But before you could unveil the mystery and have too much fun, he’d stop and usher you to the backseat so you could both join Connie. “Climb back there..”
and they didn’t have to tell you what to do because the second you sat down in the middle, Connie would tap in. Bringing your face towards him and kissing you with such passion. Immediately wrapping his fingers around your neck and twirling his tongue around between your jaws. His hands worked to unclasp your jeans and once he did, that left hand would find its way into the seat of your panties..rubbing that clit whilst you stroked that cock in your hand. Running those fingers up and down that shaft; letting those duckbill shaped nails graze his tip. He was such an attentive and great kisser, you felt yourself growing wetter by the moment. Heating up on his very fingers..meanwhile, Ryo had joined the fray as well. Readjusting himself only for a split second to step out of the drivers into the seat behind him. Once he was with you both, it was up from there.
“Can’t let him have all the fun..c’mere, baby.” It was then that he’d shuffle his pants back down to his waist and allow you to stroke him as well. They had full fledged confidence that you knew what to do..going back and forth, exchanging kisses and gentle strokes..pumping each of them in your enclosed fists. Meanwhile, they’d take great joy in fondling your body. Ryo’s wide grasp encompassed both of your tits as he peeled your shirt away. Connie’s fingers were still tending to your sensitive cunt. Slick surrounding his digits as he worked them in and out..even massaging that thumb pad over your clit. In a matter of moments, they’d have you squirming in the seat and begging for more. Soon, Ryo’s lips latched on to your neck, suckling on the nape of it with a wild eyed expression. His raspy laugh ringing in your ear as he reached for your throat. Meanwhile, your palms were still clasped around their cocks, pumping the shafts with delicate strokes..without breaking stride, they’d use their free hands to rid you of those bottoms; shoving them down to your ankles where you’d kick them off. The same followed for your shirt, which Ryo tore open with minimal effort. Having long since discarded your bra, you were left with nothing more than a paper thin thong that was tugged to the side, along with your shoes that soon followed the rest. With you rendered completely nude, there wasn’t a thing holding them back..during the entire ordeal, they’d alternate between the different parts of your body; having their fill and taking their pick of what they wanted to indulge in next. As well as piling your head with compliments and salacious comments about what they wanted to do with you. Ryo not holding back a single detail of how many times he wanted you to come for him, even at the expense of his interior. Carefully examining that tight cunt spasming on his best friend’s digits. He had the utmost confidence that you could take the dick, regardless of their sizes. Luckily, the second and third row seating were laid back so you’d have ample room. Connie on the other hand, who had been honing in on getting you prepped..aware of how tight you were..couldn’t stop telling you how badly he wanted to use your throat. He’d often dreamt of seeing those pretty lips stretched around his cock..watching you gag, slurp and spit on it as it so carefully glided in and out of your mouth. And all you could do was whimper, thrashing yourself around on those knuckles to reach an inevitable orgasm and you were so damn close.
“Aye, Ryo. You think she’s ready, bruh? Feels like she is…what do you think?”
“I think so too, lil’ bro..say, love..you think you can handle both of us? We don’t wanna hurt you now..”
but they were both in for quite the surprise. You were far from the bashful type and you were about to give them something they’d never forget. Chuckling with your head suspended back, you’d chew lightly at your bottom lip before answering either of them.
“Handle it? Y’all better the fuck the shit out of me. I don’t like all that talking without action.” And with that, both Ryo and Connie were full and well aware of what they had to do if they wanted to keep you around! Ushering you onto all fours first, everybody got into position. You with your ass up in the air and back arched as Ryo saddles behind you. Connie sprawled out on the back passenger door as your head lowered into his lap. All you wanted was for them to use your body as they saw fit..fuck you until your legs gave out and a mess covered this backseat. “C’mere, mama. Lemme have that pussy..” with tattooed hands and fingernails digging into your hair, Ryo pushed you face down as he aligned that swollen cock head with your very sensitive slit. He couldn’t help but to be enamored with the plumpness of that pretty ass. That cute little asshole was already fluttering and that cunt dripping for him, preparing to stretch you open. Meanwhile, Connie was brushing that beautiful hair to the side so that he could line up with your mouth.
“Yeaah, there we go, mami. Eat this dick up..know you been waiting to..” and he was correct. Hence why it wasn’t a full five minutes before you’d find yourself stuffed full at each end. Deep groans released from each males’ mouths when the initial sensation of your holes hit. They couldn’t believe how silky and warm both of them felt. Letting out a simultaneous ‘fuck’, along with a laugh..they’d make haste in moving. You were more than well lubricated so they slipped in and out with ease. You’d bob your head slowly, up and down on Connie’s shaft whilst Ryo’s hands rested at the small of your back, slowly pressing those thumbs into those adorable dimples..sounds of clapping flesh and slurping began to emit throughout the vehicle and before long, all three of you were letting loose.
“Shit! Pussy’s so goddamn tight, baby..how you keep this from me all this time?”
“Fuuuck, mami. chupas esa mierda tan bien…” whimpering in a high pitched moan, he’d toss his head back and continue letting you work your magic. Those plump lips wrapped around that thick shaft as globs of saliva drenched down to his swollen balls. Without so much as a single gag. You took him nearly five inches down your throat before withdrawing and jerking him off. Even though he filled your esophagus. Leaving quite the sloppy mess in your wake. All while a sheath of creamy lather began to form as those thick cheeks collided with Ryo’s pelvis. You’d begin to whimper and beg each of them for more. “Yeah, mama..let us hear that shit. How much you love being fucked like a lil’ slut..” teasing before leaning down to lick up the curvature of your spine. “Mmph! Fuuuck..please, don’t stop.” And he had no intentions of doing so, especially when he’d reach underneath and curl his hand underneath and massage your clit. Making you twitch on that cock..but Connie wasn’t one to be neglected either. Because once you put your mouth back on him, he was done for. Lowering your head again, an entire sheath of saliva came spilling onto that shaft as you spat and continued pumping in your hand. Where you kept your focus, however, were on those round, full balls of his. Practically aching to the touch..apparent by the way his body trembled and those diamonds kept swinging and refracting against the star covered ceiling.
“Yeah, right there, baby. Suck that muhfuck—“ but just as quickly as he gave the command, he’d be halted in his tracks and his eyes would trail to the back of his head. “Fuuuuck! Oh fuck, do that again, baby. That feels so good.” Nearly catapulting out of his seat from the sensation of your tongue swirling around his balls and momentarily gliding over his entrance. He knew he’d probably never experienced something so salacious before. Talk all he might but Connie was a lover boy and most likely, incredibly vanilla. He preferred making love over rough fucking. Meanwhile, Ryo preferred his women to be freaky. The kind that would top him off and kiss him afterwards or let him put a foot on her head! He could only let out a hearty laugh as he watched his lil’ bro get bitched up!
“You a nasty lil’ bitch. I love it. Knew you was gon’ be a problem but damn…aye, Connie..you good, bruh?” Only receiving a loud whine back..knowing that you had damn near sucked the soul out of this man!
“C’mon, baby. Let’s switch.” And truth be told, he too needed a breather because if he persisted, you were going to be on maternity leave messing with him! Reluctantly withdrawing, he’d pull out and lay his erect across your back, spurting a trail of his precum across your skin. You all would maneuver around until the two of them had switched positions and you were flat on your back. Dangling your head, Ryo took hold of it as he leaned against the door and Connie spread you open. Pinning your legs back, he’d tap himself against your slick ridden, fucked out little hole..eliciting a high pitched whimper. One that hummed and vibrated against Ryo’s cock. It was such a euphoric feeling for all three of you. Especially with the sensation of that weed coursing through your veins. That thong dangled around your ankles and his wristwatch glistened under the lights as his hands clasped your ankle. Placing soft kisses around your calf. “Pussy’s so fucking wet, mami..damn.” Ryo was on the opposite end, thrusting into your mouth slowly with a gentle hand cupped around your throat. They were using you as they saw fit and you couldn’t get enough. They’d persist until they drummed out what would be the first of many orgasms. Which came not a moment too soon when Connie was pressing down into the center of your belly and pumping you full of cock. That’s when you felt it!…
“Damn! Let it out, baby..squirt on that dick, just like that.” Sending you into convulsions as he tapped himself against you after you all but pushed you out. But you were too busy having your mouth used as a sleeve to release any moans. But Ryo was aware of the way you hummed against him. Connie wasn’t going to be the only one having his fill. He wanted you to take his nut inside regardless of where it ended up. Tugging himself momentarily and seemingly premature, he’d hold you in place as he prompted you to stick your tongue out. Which you did with a wide smile on your face. “There we go.” Rewarding you with a long glob of spit afterwards. “Mmm, thank you, papi.” Showing your gratitude to them both. The two men would continue on their crusade to bring you to ultimate pleasure. Taking turns pounding in various positions..and entrances until finally..
“Fuck! On your knees, baby..just like that.”
“Suck that fucking cum out, mama..”
they’d instruct you to grasp both of their shafts and jerk them off until you milked them of every remnant of their cum. And it didn’t take long before you found your face splattered in both men’s semen and them rolling their heads back on their shoulders and crying out your name, along with a string of expletives. Needless to say, you all were good and spent. And very much satisfied with this little rendezvous! Even so, the gentlemen still couldn’t help but to question who was the better of the two. But if you hadn’t already made yourself clear, you’d iterate it one more time:
“Like I said, I don’t have to choose..I’m just window shopping.”
#cherry’s works ✦⭒#crossover au#connie springer#ryomen sukuna#rarepair#jujutsu kaisen#attack on titan#connie springer x black reader#ryomen sukuna x black reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#told y’all I would do it#aot x black reader#jjk x black reader#black fem reader#modern au#black reader smut#jjk smut#aot smut#sukuna x black reader#connie x black reader#jujutsu sukuna#jujutsu kaisen au#jujutsu kaisen x black reader#aot x black y/n#attack on titan x black reader#connie smut#connie aot#connie springer smut#aot au#jujutsu kaisen drabbles
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LOWKEY, SHE’S SO SWEET ft. SUGURU GETO
— minors dni, light angst?, suguru x fem! reader, penetrative sex, mention of gojo x reader (one kiss), slight dumbification, nipple play, biting/hickeys, making out, lovesick! suguru, what could’ve been a creampie, pussy taps, dry humping, reader gets a little flustered (duh it’s suguru), pussy whipped suguru ?, a little proofread
wc 3.3k
Gojo had a lot of bad habits. Eating an over abundance of sweets, not taking things seriously, hiding his feelings, along with procrastinating and, more importantly, avoiding things he shouldn’t.
“Since when were you such a coward?,” Shoko asks and elbows him in the ribs.
He faces away, a lip jutted out as he mumbles a response. “‘M not a coward, I just don’t like her in that way.”
Suguru stands nearby, lighting a cigarette as he eavesdrops on the conversation. The lighter falls deep into his pocket, while he’s wondering how he could have such an absolute idiot as his best friend. People who don’t like someone else ‘in that way’ don’t get butterflies when they kiss that person, but he digresses. If Gojo wants to let you go and keep denying his own feelings, so be it. Suguru will gladly swoop you up and make you his own. Ever since that kiss you and Satoru had shared, one the former was adamant meant nothing because he definitely wasn’t in love with you, the two of you had been avoiding each other for a few weeks now. Well, Gojo was avoiding you. Geto discovered through Shoko that you just didn’t want to force him into anything, putting Gojo’s feelings above your own and essentially condoning his childish actions—and that you were struggling to come to terms with the fact that you’d wasted your first real kiss on someone who apparently thought you meant nothing special.
A week after the incident, Geto was over at your place again, as he often was since you two did hang out a lot. Shoulders drooped, the usual playfulness in your voice is gone, he never gets a good look at your face and that’s on purpose. At that point, it was too hard to conceal your emotions about the whole thing—Geto can read you like an open book, and the conversation wouldn’t be worth the heartache. You’re nothing like yourself. If he’s being honest, Suguru’s annoyed and a little bit jealous that you’re this way over his friend. He could treat you so much better. He’s not the type that needs to be pushed so hard just to admit his feelings; the type to just up and pretend his friend of almost a decade doesn’t exist anymore over one kiss.
It’s not like Geto was being unfair here. He’d been eyeing you for years already, anyway, stuck watching you pine after—and now, lose sleep over—his snowy-haired best friend. Almost two months had passed, and this was the final straw to push Geto over the edge. If the strongest sorcerer in the world was going to waste both his own and your time, then Geto would move things along himself.
“Glad your mission went well.,” Suguru says as you usher him into your spacious apartment, coming to check on you after an especially grueling curse you’d been assigned to kill.
“Oh yeah, easy-peasy.,” you laugh. Your hand waves through the air as if swatting away a fly. “Didn’t even break a sweat.”
He’s used to this, your bravado after every mission, regardless of how dangerous it actually was. Something to lighten the mood after just putting your life on the line. You’re similar to Gojo in that aspect, only the tiredness behind your words and expression is far more evident, but you power through regardless. Calm and collected as ever, pouring yourself a glass of milk and gesturing a chilled water bottle at your guest in offering. Geto rests on the couch with an arm slung over the back as he watches you toss the half-empty jug within the fridge, before prancing over to him with a playful grin.
“Milk?” An airy chuckle puffs from his lips.
Your eyes narrow as you toss the bottle into his lap, your own glass hesitating before your mouth. “Listen, I had a craving while I was out, and it’s going to help my bones grow. I have to catch up to you and Gojo somehow.”
Your silly comment elicits a tugging at Suguru’s lips, ignoring again how you’ve started using his friend’s last name. There’s a flicker of discomfort that crosses your features at the thought of Gojo—he’s noticed your sudden unease at the mention of the sorcerer—before you’re chugging the milk in swift gulps. Geto sees the tension, traces of it at least, leave you through the relaxation of your shoulders.
“So,” you lower the glass just a little, tongue swiping the milk mustache below your nose. “Wanna watch a movie? You don’t have a mission tomorrow, right?”
A shake of his head. “Nope. I’m all yours for the night.” His cheeky words brings a warmth to your face.
Geto lets you pick the movie, giving in to you like he usually does, and accepts the invitation to sprawl out on your bed upstairs. It’s more spacious than the couch, and also adorned with various plushies to protect you both from the frights of the dreadful movie about to play. It’s a typical psychological horror—filled with cheap jumpscares and agonizing suspense in the form of characters lingering through the shadows. He’s never seen this film before, so Geto should be paying attention because he knows you like to discuss after, but he just can’t. Not with both your sides pressed together and the heat of your body radiating onto him, or when your head lolls against his shoulder, face half-hidden behind the fuzzy dog plush in your arms.
It’s sweet, the way you jolt when a character springs from behind a corner, squealing in fright, lowering just a little further behind the stuffed animal. His heart races a little faster when you cower against him, eyes soften a little more at your goofy comments about the idiotic choices of the cast members. You, laughing at your own words, which makes him laugh in turn, and Suguru feels like he’s just falling more in love with you and your being.
Another hair-raising scene occurs, and Geto slinks a comforting arm around your shoulder, face growing warm when you shuffle to sink further into him. From the corner of his eye, he can see the fear written on your face. It’s amusing and just endearing really, how you’re seemingly more frightened by the fake movie monster than an actual cursed spirit. His hand snakes over your face to cover your eyes, fingers spread so you may peek through, and Geto chuckles when you scrunch your nose up at him.
“Are you trying to say I look scared–!”, The accusation barely leaving your mouth before a loud gasp erupts from your throat, the source of your shock being the sudden loud noise of a bookshelf falling in the movie. Alas, your boldness is thwarted by another cheap scare.
“Ah, silly me. Of course not.” Geto’s voice is mocking as he brushes hair from your face. “So fearless, I can tell.”
“Shut up, that doesn’t count, you distracted me.”
He laughs again. “Oh, so you’re gonna pin that reaction on me?”
You mumble into the stuffed dog something unintelligible, face half concealed against Geto’s chest. His hand falls to rest on your shoulder, drawing circles and then hearts into the warm skin of your body. You squeeze an arm behind yourself to wrap around him, giggling when he turns to glance at your smaller hand on his other side.
“So you won’t be scared the rest of the movie.,” you tease with a toothy grin.
“Me?” He thinks you’re ridiculous in the cutest way. “I haven’t jumped once.”
“Yeah, whatever, you’re lucky I was too busy watching the movie to notice you shivering over there.” The faint smell of his cologne is intoxicating from this distance. “Your heart’s probably pounding right now.”
It is, Geto thinks, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. Less of the movie, and more of your pretty face inches from his. The film continues playing on your laptop, a scene shot at night and through the dark screen, Geto admires you in the reflection. Those wide, doe-eyes seemingly hyper-focused on what’s in front of you, darting to take in everything on display—maybe you’d find an Easter egg in this shot, some reference to another movie, perhaps? Your breathing hitches when a sound makes the main character twist to look behind them, and Geto finds himself hugging you just a little bit tighter.
“I’m fine, y’know.” You huff the sentence out at him, catching his curious gaze through the dark reflection of your laptop. “Why are staring at me like that?”
Your head raises, turning to confront him. Amongst the love in Suguru’s eyes, you see hints of fondness, soft and subtle as he studies you. And behind that, something else that’s not so innocent. It all intrigues you.
“Got something on your mind, Suguru?”
This was supposed to be happening with Gojo. Or you’d originally hoped it would, anyway.
The movie was long forgotten, laptop dark as the credits had ended a while ago. The device teetered along the edge of your bed before falling, luckily cushioned by the discarded yellow puppy plush that’d met the floor through Geto’s foot.
Your moans bounce around the room, occasionally colliding with his grunts of satisfaction as Suguru’s tongue danced around in your mouth, him nibbling on your bottom lip as a hand crept up your shirt. Shaky legs squeeze around his waist, parted by Geto’s knee, and you grind against the flex of his thigh to relieve the building ache in your core.
There’s the soft smack of parting lips whenever Suguru breaks away, eager to shower kisses along your exposed neck, littered with the dark marks of his possession—then he returns for the taste of strawberry on your lips again. There it is again, this endearing sweetness about you, it’s engraved into your very being: your laugh, your smile, your silly jokes, the flavor of your kiss. A needy grip, wandering hands that don’t know their destination, rubbing over Suguru’s shoulders, his back, gripping his nape and threading amongst dark strands of long hair. In the back of his mind, he can’t help wonder if Gojo had an experience such as this and, if so, how he could ever risk never being able to go through it again?
It only takes one hand to unclasp your bra with expert fingers. The undergarment is inched away to expose your breasts, and soon, your shirt with it to leave your top half unveiled for Suguru’s longing gaze.
“Fuck, you’re perfect…,” he mutters to himself, pink dusting the tops of his cheeks. Satoru’s such an idiot, he thinks, missing out on this, on you.
Your hot pants graze his skin; fuzzy, indecisive eyes flicker between Geto’s flushed face and the prominent tent in his sweats, where it just brushes your panties and sends a flood of wetness between your thighs. Trembling hands finally find purchase on his shoulder and behind his neck, where you pull him towards your body, arched to raise your tits and the gesture sends an intense throbbing straight to Suguru’s dick. Offering yourself to him like that, wordlessly begging for his mouth to indulge in you—he’s wrapped so right around your finger, just a lovesick fool for you.
A sharp gasp slips out—Geto’s mouth meets one of your stiffened nipples, rolling it on his tongue before tugging it between his teeth. ‘Ah! Suguru!’ you mewl his name with your head sinking into plush pillows, and he gropes your other lonely breast with a large hand, thumbing the hard bud and pinching it between his fingers.
It’s easy to match the greedy rhythm of his hips, and you uplift your own to meet the grinding of his erection against your heated pussy. A loving kiss pressed to your chest, over the swell of your tits, a bite or two in between while he worships your body. “M—!” Geto cuts you off with a harsh suck of your nipple, prompting a desperate whine from your throat. “O-oh, god—! Fuck, Suguru, k-keep going!”
He pauses the feverish assault on your chest, licking a stripe up the center of your throat, and muttering sweet nothings over your glistening skin before continuing ministrations on the pebbled buds. Your legs hug tight around Geto’s hips, pulling him ever closer until the stiffness in his pants massages your clit through sopping wet panties. Drool soaks your chest, messy and riddled with a new array of bite marks and blemishes. Evidence of Suguru’s obsession, and a clear claim over you because you’re all his now.
“Suguruu…”, you jut out a lip when dark eyes move in your direction, tongue hesitating on your nipple. “Hurry, pleasee?” You whine and flutter long lashes, purposefully grinding against his length again in a needy plea.
He gives one last suck on the erect nub, causing your mouth to fall open with a small moan, and Geto balances himself on an elbow next to your head, easing fingers beneath the waistline of your panties. Snorting, his eyes trail over your heaving form, watching your own fingers tug at the hem of his pants.
“My darling’s so eager, isn’t she?” It’s a soft taunt that fills your ears, makes you conscious of the blazing heat in your veins that sets fire to your skin. “Can’t be that desperate for me, can you? Want me in this pussy that bad?”
Your clit throbs in response, and you keep fingers tucked into Suguru’s sweats, pulling them down for a glimpse at the dark hairs of his happy trail, before growing a little more embarrassed and hiding it away again. He chuckles at your shy behavior.
“Shut up.,” you search the room, pouting, for something else to look at. “You can’t get me like this and then be so mean.”
He lowers himself towards you. “Like what?” A little closer, now locks of his hair brush your face. “Getting this pussy all sloppy and wet for me? Begging to have my cum stuffed in her?”
Eyes widening, you break his gaze, cramming your lids shut as your face twists with a look of bashfulness. “God, Suguru, you are sooo–!” Hot? Dirty? Perverted? “Embarrassing!,” you finally groan in frustration.
Suguru sits up to stare down at the soaked wet patch staining your panties. ‘I’ll tell you what’s embarassing…’ and you give a playful glare at his comment. He chuckles, and adjusts both your legs to rest on his left side before fingers hook beneath the fabric, pulling it off in one swift motion. The slickness of your pussy is a sight to behold, mouth-watering. Juices cascade down your thighs, drenches his protruding digits as he slides them up and down your fluttering hole that threatens to suck him in and never let go.
“ ‘S not my fault, she just knows what she likes.” Geto marvels at how easily his thick finger sinks in, cock twitching at your lengthy whine. “And I think right now she’d like me to break her in.”
He’s so insufferable. “Suguru–“
“God, I’m gonna make this pussy mine, just wait.,” he sighs. The squeeze of your walls at his promise is mesmerizing—your words can’t fly high enough to reach him in the clouds. “Til you can’t remember anything but the shape of my dick, gonna breed this tight fucking hole–“
“I think actions speak louder than words, Suguru.”
Your little taunt pulls Geto out of his daydreams. “Oh, you’re going to be much louder than my actions, darling.”
It’s like sand on your tongue the way your mouth goes dry, him grinning at your flustered expression as he frees his cock from it’s prison. Precum drools from the tip, leaking down his length to leave a stain on his dark sweats. Your tongue darts over your lips, craving just a taste, a desire to encompass his bobbing length in the safe warmth of your mouth.
He glides it over your spasming pussy, making a mess as precum and slick smears everywhere. Amusement dances in Geto’s eyes when he slaps the tip a few times against your clit, sending a jolt through you and bringing a cry from within your throat. He does it again, circles your clit with his tip until your hips are gyrating to match his movements and tears prick the corners of your eyes. ‘Suguru…’ falls off your lips once more in a pathetic plea, and Geto can’t wait any longer when you blink so innocently at him, sigh so prettily at his teasing motions.
It burns a little, the stretch of his fat tip making its way inside. But Geto is slow and patient—he notes any sign of discomfort as he awaits your go ahead, as torturous as it is, especially when the deepest parts of your pussy are calling for him. Your gooey walls are snug around his length, holding him so tight and inviting him inside as inches sink deeper into your fluttering heat—it’s maddening. As Geto finally bottoms out, he cages you between his arms, face flushed pink and framed by long, jet-black waves of hair. So pretty. And his pleasured smile wavers for just a second. You’re so fucked out already that you don’t even know you just mumbled that out loud. Looks like you’re both a pair of lovesick fools.
“F–fuck me, please.,” you whimper. He won’t make you ask twice. Lazy yet deliberate, the drag of Suguru’s cock has your head reeling, especially when he keeps brushing that spot inside you, sending floods of euphoria throughout your body.
Your arms move to wrap around his neck, tangling fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. “S-so full, Suguru, it f–eels, feels s’ fucking good, don’t stop.” And he replies with a low grunt, ‘shit, I won’t, could never’ as his pace quickens. Tears cast a blurry haze over your vision, sounds of skin against skin picking up in your ears, along with desperate, broken moans from either of you. The sharpness of your nails leave a collection of scratches along Suguru’s back, and the slight pain of it all only fuels the plunge of his dick, making itself at home within the gumminess of your walls. He uses a hand to shift your pelvis, moving himself for a deeper angle and fucking hard into your sweet spot. ‘Oh, fuck, fuck!’ You cry into Geto’s ear, tugging his hair and grasping at him to fit against you. ‘S-Suguru..! Right there–!’, finished off with a loud cry. Your orgasm is right around the corner, a blazing pool of desire overflowing in the pit of your stomach.
“C–um..!” You’re starting to babble, mindless and stupid. “Inside, inside, Suguru!”
And he wants to, trust, but it wouldn’t exactly be responsible without a condom on or knowing whether or not you’re on the pill. Maybe if he was a little less caring—or not tucked away in the crevice of your neck to hide from the hypnotizing power of your eyes—he’d make good on his promise and fill your pussy up until you couldn’t take it anymore. It’s so tempting, the heavy urge to mark your insides with his seed, til they were coated in white, but he just can’t be sure. So while you’re shivering and crying, high off your own orgasm, Suguru uses his last remnants of sensibility. He pulls out, low, raspy grunts and a hiss leaving him at the sight of his cum painting your thighs, spurting onto your swollen clit and leaking down to your quivering hole.
He collapses next to you, chests both heaving and an arm moves to wrap around your waist. Your teary eyes glaze over Geto in his divine glory, too dazed to see him doing the same to you.
“What’s with that face?,” he pants a short chuckle at the pout of your lips.
You turn further onto your side, pressing your bare bodies together and wrapping an arm around his neck, the other rubbing through his hair. “Told you to cum inside me, you wasted it everywhere.”
Suguru scoffs, playful. “Couldn’t risk it, sweetheart, I’d be hooked after one go.”
A shiver runs down his spine as you brush a thumb over his nape. “Oh, is that so bad? Thought you were gonna stuff me, Sugu, you don’t wanna breed this little hole and fill me up?”
“…Keep talking like that and I might.”
tagz: @anthoosies @mysugu
#suguru geto x reader#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader smut#suguru geto smut#suguru geto x reader smut#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you#suguru geto x you
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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚
Warnings: yandere themes (manipulation, kidnapping, imprisonment), smut (overstimulation, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink if you want to interpret like so)
Word count: 1.6k
A sound of pouring rain tapping over the window kept you awake. You glanced over the glass and saw the same image as for the days before - dense, forest line cutting the grassy, wild meadow off. The temperature inside and out was warm and it almost felt like summer in the countryside of your homeland. But it was all an illusion.
A high-tech screens had been put inside the window frames to imitate your well known surroundings. He put an effort to make this place look like a decent place. Somewhere you would feel comfortable. But this wasn’t even a real home, it was your prison.
After you interfered a little too much with the canon events in one of the spider-verses, Miguel O’Hara visited your world in person. He demanded an explanations from Peter Parker, a friend from college, about your doings.
Because you two learned lately about the up-coming death of uncle Ben and tried to avoid it by all means. And you almost succeed. Almost.
Miguel, a tall man with a dark look on his face, threatened Peter about the consequences of avoiding such occurrences. Parker appeared to be frightened of the stranger as Miguel’s eyes seemed to glow brightly red from frustration.
Those piercing eyes finally found your form, standing still behind your Spiderman and only then you processed what you just heard.
━ Wh-What? It was OUR idea to save your uncle! ━ You interrupted those two men, gesturing with your hands. But Peter didn’t even bother to look at you, he didn’t have enough courage to do so. He tried to frame you and put all the guilt on you. Which in the end, somehow worked out.
He agreed to that mysterious spidey-guy from another universe that someone had to bear the consequences of messing up with the timeline. And Parker pointed at you. An ultimate betrayal, ripped your heart apart.
Soon after you found yourself in that damn prison with a bracelet over your wrist to “stop you from glitching”. Whatever that was supposed to mean.
Miguel was some kind of boss around the place you found yourself in. At least that's what Lyla told you, a artificial intelligence present in the technology around you. It was him who was responsible for you from now on as he visited you every day.
At first, each time you saw him, you tried throwing things at him purely out of rage - a book, a small picture frame or a chair, but each time he managed to catch or turn down anything you tossed. He kept trying to explain to you what was happening and why he couldn’t let you go back into your world. Miguel stated that it was dangerous enough when a non-variant person was messing up with the timeline.
But was this all true? There was no one else you could ask for a second opinion, you had to believe, everything Miguel told you was the truth. Obviously, you questioned everything about him and this place. It felt like you were losing your sanity and a part of yourself.
The well-built man with brown, combed hair was very patient and understable with your rage and sorrow. Until he was not.
O’Hara had enough of your tantrums and one time he scared you truly. Eyes turning bloody red, his veins popping out and his teeth turning into long fangs. He charged at you, shoving your whole body to the wall behind. When your eyes were filled with fear and lungs emptied themself due to the force he pushed you, Miguel contained himself and moved away quickly.
You rarely saw him in this form, but when you finally did - you kept behaving well, not wanting to anger him again. Because you knew nothing about him. What if he was able to hurt you? Or even murder you?
Since then, you tried to suppress any anger and try to figure out how to return to your world, your life. And the brunette kept coming back, each day just to visit you. In the end he was your only company.
Miguel brought you new books or art supplies if you asked Lyla or him directly. The man would spend some time with you - cooking, watching movies, anything you liked to do. But it was months ago.
For the last couple of weeks, you were practically silent and apathetic. Curling inside the armchair near the “window”, napping or sobbing quietly. You’ve been in this prison for too long and it began to crush your spirit.
He acknowledged the change in you and tried talking about it. He kept assuring that he has to keep you here for the world’s sake and balance. Because if someone messes up with the canon again, the universe will collapse. You reprimanded yourself for leaning into his chest when he offered you a comforting hug. Because how could you ever want solace from your captor?
That evening was no different. Miguel visited you after work and found you sitting in silence on that damn armchair. When he crouched down, trying to catch your sight, you scooted backwards in the seat.
━ What’s wrong, cariño?
━ I want to go home. ━ Your voice full with sorrow gained his attention. Where was your spirit he adored so much? The pain in your voice almost made him feel bad. Almost.
Miguel reached towards your exposed calf and started rubbing it with his pointing finger.
━ This is your home, tú lo sabes. [sp.: you know it] ━ His voice sounded peaceful when he reached both of his arms in your direction. His embrace was welcoming, but you knew better. It was like a sweet flavored poison, spreading slowly under your skin, killing you slowly. ━ Come here.
You pushed firmly against his shoulders as you jumped out of the chair and took a few steps back.
━ Miguel ━ you said his name loudly, gaining his full attention. You were being hysterical again. ━ I’ve been here FOR MONTHS. I had life before, I had A PURPOSE. You took it from me!
He tried, he really tried holding himself back this time you talked back. But your whining became annoying and Miguel just knew what would make you feel better.
He stood up to his full height, easily towering over you. Brunette came closer, taking each step slowly, like he was giving you time to calm yourself or at least apologize. But you didn’t even back out.
Miguel was leaning to look into your glimmering eyes and he saw how much you hated him at that moment. “We need to work on that temper”, he once told you, but you thought nothing of it.
His little, feisty nymph. That’s what he liked to think of you.
━ Fine ━ he growled right in your face, before grabbing your arm. ━ I’ll give you a purpose.
The sound of your heavy panting echoed through the room. You tried straightening your hands again, but unsuccessfully as your muscles gave up a long time ago. Only his strong hands kept your ass higher than your head, by the tightening grip over your already bruised hips.
Miguel kept thrusting into your tight cunt until you were a sobbing mess. He already pushed you over the edge at least three times, devouring the little noises you made and how your pussy clenched around his swollen shaft.
Brunette kept one of his palms spread between your shoulder blades, keeping your upper half down, making your spine arch better.
The sweat covered the back of your bent knees, him sliding in and out of you with ease, because of your wetness. Miguel certainly knew where to touch you to make you break into pieces between his fingers.
━ See, doesn't that feel good to be by my side, cariño? ━ He leaned over your puffing frame, cheek dipped in the sheets while he kept fucking you stupid.
━ Mig-Miguel… I can’t… n-no more…. ━ You whispered to him, feeling as each thrust of his hips pushed his cock deeper inside of you. The coiling sensation started to build up again between your trembling legs and in stomach. ━ Please!
━ Just one more, darling. ━ He heard you clearly, but yet he kept sliding in and out of you violently, chasing his own sweet release.
Miguel took his hand away from your back and sneaked between your puffy lips. He spreaded them, opening you up and making it easier for him to find your clit. And when he finally did so, the brunette started rubbing it in a rhythm that quickly made you reach your another orgasm that night.
Your body tensed suddenly and then collapsed into his pelvis, sinking his swollen cock deeper. When your cunt fluttered around him uncontrollably and your eyes rolled backwards, he came inside you, clenching his teeth.
He tilted forward and placed both of his strong hands on each side of you, while coming down from his high. He noticed your grip tightening over bed sheets and smiled, before giving you a tender kiss on the temple.
━ Mi pequeña ninfa. Do you understand now, that only I can protect you? [sp.: My little nymph]
Miguel loved his girl no matter if she had a bad day or not. He was going to make sure, no one will ever take you from him. You’re his precious troublemaker, aren’t you?
━ You belong with me. ━ He growled into your ear.
#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere#miguel o'hara#miguel ohara#spider man 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#spider man: across the spider verse#reader insert#smut#miguel o'hara smut
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Anyway yes, people who can X should be accomodating to people who can't X. People who can walk should accomodate people who can't. People who can hear should accomodate people who can't. People who can see should accomodate people who can't. And on and on. When that doesn't happen, it's a problem that deserves to be talked about.
But the problem is not and has never been "physical disabilities are more important and deserve more accomodations than mental disabilities"- nor the other way around either.
People love to dunk on folks with ADD/ADHD but you know? As someone with ADD raised by diabetic parents I gotta say there's a lot of similarities here. People with ADD, myself included, often forget to eat and when they do eat they often load themselves up with carbs and sugars because those foods make their brains feel good. People with diabetes have to closely monitor their meals and often crave sugars and need a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand. This is not to say ADD and diabetes are exact one-to-one disabilities.
But having grown up watching my parents manage their diabetes, I too am very aware of meal times and blood sugar and constructing meals that will tide you over and having a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand Just In Case. I am able to manage my ADD better in this way because I have experience from watching my parents. I also need access to snacks and to be able to say to my boss "I need to go eat something real fast" without being punished.
I had a training client who was the image of "able bodied mentally ill" outside of the usual creaks and squeaks associated with age, her body worked just fine. But after a series of incidents in her youth- a car accident that left her with a serious brain injury, coming home from the hospital afterwards to immediately have her house broken into and herself raped by an intruder, and assorted medical malpractice while she was healing from both- she has a serious and extreme case of agoraphobia and spent the next 40 years completely unable to leave the house. She would hide and wail and scream when deliveries of groceries and other goods would come, because it meant a stranger (and usually a man) would be at her door. She could not go more than a couple steps outside to get her mail and especially not if other people were outside.
At some point her therapist suggested getting a pet, one that *had* to go outside, to help her. So she got a dog and contacted a trainer (me) and we got to work. And she did improve! The dog has been a huge help to managing her symptoms! But you cannot seriously expect me to have worked with this woman for years and then belittle mental illnesses as being lesser when this woman also shares the inability to even leave her house let alone go inside a grocery store. Even today there are times when she simply cannot, she cannot will her body to move out of her door and into transportation let alone into the building.
When she first started coming to me she thanked me for not belittling her or making her feel bad for classes she had to cancel because she couldn't force herself to take the first step over the threshold. That is when she told me what happened to her and that while it sounds terrible she was really happy to have found a trainer who knew something personal about trauma and brain injuries. She is also a case where I feel her ESA should be considered service dog not because of training or tasking but because her need is so high and she is just completely incapable of doing anything without the dog in her arms.
Anyway I think of her any time someone says "but you can walk through the door". There's nothing wrong with her legs so in theory sure she could. But often she *can't*, not because of anything physical, but because she is very severely mentally ill.
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How JJK men react when you fall asleep on them
Pairing: Nanami x reader; Gojo x reader; Inumaki x reader (first time yay, thank you @emzalot and @trysudio for the great idea <3)
Word Count: 3,4k
Warnings: not proofread because I really have to go to work right now lol, a little language here and there, otherwise fluff overload, will write a part ll of this so if you wanna get tagged leave a comment and let me know. Also, I'd appreciate it sooooo much if you'd interact with this fic and showed some support <3
Kento Nanami
It’s been a hell of a week. Work swallows you whole, curses appear like plagues out of nowhere. This summer seems to be worse than any year before, worse than anything you’ve ever witnessed despite the stinging fact that you are a grade 1 sorcerer.
“When was the last time you’ve slept, (y/n)?” Satoru questions playfully when you walk past him.
You have no energy for his bullshit right now, feet shuffling on the floor without a real aim. Oh, but you do have an aim-
Him.
“Can’t remember anymore. Let me go home now”, you mumble, heart beating a little faster just by the thought of it.
Going home means meeting him. After weeks of being apart, after weeks of not really seeing each other, you’ll finally come back home to him. Kento Nanami, the best boyfriend walking on this earth. Kento Nanami, who was the one who forced Gojo to talk to the elders in order to give you a few days off. Kento Nanami, who is the only thing on your mind except for sleep right now.
“Come on, let me drive you home, (y/n). No need for you to walk that whole way”, Gojo suggests.
You can’t argue. In fact, you don’t even want to. Even the thought of sitting for a few minutes seems like a relieve at the moment.
“Your man was really mad when he found out you were assigned for another bunch of missions this week, threatened to slap me if I don’t talk to the elders”, the man next to you comments amused while starting the car.
Kento is a calm and collected man, never too much of anything. But when it comes to you and your safety, he seems to put on another face.
Definitely a hot one.
“I hope he slapped you anyway”, you reply with a weak grin, earning a heartfelt laugh from Gojo.
“Not yet, but let me escort you to the door just in case.”
He stops the car, your numb body refusing to get up. You just started to get comfortable, maybe you’re able to rest your eyes on the passenger seat for a second…
“Come on, you just need to walk inside. Kento already waits for you.”
“Did you drive her here?”
Oh, that sweet voice. That sweet voice you get drunk on over and over again, that voice that lures you into relieving darkness. Now you’re save. Now you’re finally able to rest.
“Hey sweetheart, are you alright?”
His comforting touch caresses your cheek gently, you can tell he’s gazing down at you worried. But as much as you want to lift you arms and finally embrace your boyfriend in a tight hug, as much as you are forcing your eyes to open and take in his striking sight, you simply can’t move.
“Let me carry you inside. You definitely need to rest now”, he mumbles.
Softly, he lifts you out of the passenger seat. You feel like melting away in an instant, the mixture of his masculine scent along with the warmth of his body being your personal heaven on earth. God, how much you love that man, how much adore that he stood up for you, that he lets you rest in his comforting arms right now.
“Thank you for helping me out”, Nanami addresses towards Gojo.
“No need for that. We’re buddies after all, right? And I don’t wanna get slapped by you. Good night, (y/n), sleep tight!”
As much as you’d love to bite back, your tongue is so numb you can’t even bring out anything apart from a minor groan.
Kento’s tall frame begins to walk, his tight muscles reflecting every little movement against your head. What a sensation it is, knowing that you’ll lay curled up next to him in bed within the next minutes.
“Missed you”, you mumble.
His touch brushes over your back comfortingly while he steps back into the warmth of your inviting home.
“I’m so glad you’re home again, sweetheart. But before you’re all mine, you have to catch up with your sleep. When was the last time you were able to rest?”
You can’t put a finger on it. Apart from a few short naps now and then, there was absolutely no chance to sleep for 3 hours straight within the last week. But telling Kento that definitely doesn’t seem like a good idea, not that you are able to build a straight sentence anyway.
“Don’t know”, you hush.
Gently, he lays you down onto your soft mattress. You curl up in an instant, taking in his scent inside the soft linen of your blanket. Oh, this feels like nothing but heaven. Especially because he positions himself next to you, pressing your back against his broad chest.
“Get your well-deserved rest. I won’t let something like that happen again”, he breathes against your ear.
“I love you, Kento. Thanks for standing up for me…”
His skilled fingers tuck a strand of hair that hangs in your face behind your ear before stroking your head just the way you like it.
“I will always look after you, (y/n). Now rest a little and tell me about the last weeks when you’re ready. I’ve already shopped for this evening, I want to cook your favourite meal for you. And-“
He stops himself from talking, your low and steady breath making it more than clear that you are already sound asleep. With a small smile, Kento tucks you into the blanket and presses a kiss against your forehead. Oh, how much you deserve to finally rest, how lovely you look with your relaxed facial features and your head completely swallowed by your pillow
“Sleep tight, I love you more than anything else, (y/n).”
Satoru Gojo
“No offense, but you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
You can’t hold in a yawn, teary eyes staring at the man in front of you. That definitely was a rough mission. So rough that Satoru Gojo had to step in to save your puny ass. And if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, you can barely keep your eyes open. That fucking demon you weren’t able to exorcise all night, fucking Satoru Gojo who took forever to come to your rescue.
“I’m fine”, you grumble, avoiding his gaze at any cost.
Why on earth does it have to be him? Why Satoru Gojo instead of someone decent like Geto? Now, you’ll have to live with his stupid comments for at least some months.
“Baby, you look like you’re about to pass out.”
“Don’t call me baby”, you hiss through gritted teeth.
Get yourself together, keep your eyes open. Why on earth are you so damn tired right now? Maybe because you were fighting the whole night, maybe because you haven’t slept enough for ages.
“Feel free to rest a little, this car ride will take us some time”, Ijichi interrupts softly, gazing at you through the mirror.
“I’m fine”, you groan.
God, why is everything so damn annoying at the moment? Your eyes wander to the man next to you who just grins from ear to ear. It’s because of him, that fucker over there.
“Don’t worry, I will take care if something happens”, he assures you.
Urgh, you are too tired to deal with his shit-talking right now. You turn pointedly towards the window, staring into the rainy late morning. What time is it? You have no idea. All that you know is that you’ve been awake for more than 48 hours by now, your body being completely worn out and covered in bruises. Maybe Shoko will give you a decent pain killer that shoots you into another dimension. Yeah, that actually sounds nice.
Satoru’s eyes lay on you, how your body gets sluggish in the car seat with every passing minute. Until your head rests against the window, until your heavy eyes get the best of you and your mouth opens. Yes, you were completely worn out by the time he arrived. And it is more than well-deserved that you rest now. But why do you have to look this lovely while doing so?
“Is she asleep?”, Ijichi questions softly.
“Oh she definitely is. No wonder after that hell of a mission. Please turn the music down a little so she doesn’t wake up.”
Even though you’re always act cold towards him, Satoru can’t help but admire you from afar. You are so feisty, so strong, so lovely it takes his breath away. It seems like the only time he’s even able to look your way properly is when you are asleep.
And he enjoys every second of it.
Ijichi makes a sharp turn to the left, eyes widen in horror when another car is only inches away from crashing into him. Before Satoru is able to react, your body crashes against his, your head now resting against his shoulder. He holds his breath, heart almost beating out of his chest. He never came this close to you, not without you complaining. From here, you look even lovelier, your steady breath brushing against his neck in a way that makes him see start.
But you don’t seem to mind. No, instead your arm wraps itself around his as you rub your head against his shoulder in order to find a comfortable position.
“Is she still sleeping? I hope this didn’t wake her up…”
“Nah, she’s asleep”, Satoru mumbles.
The urge to touch you becomes almost unbearable. How is he supposed to sit still when you are cuddled against him like this? How is he supposed to not stretch out his hand when your hair looks so inviting, when he wondered about what your skin feels like since knowing you?
A little touch can’t hurt, right? A simple, innocent touch…
Slowly, his trembling fingertip brushes over your cheek. It feels like electricity is running through his veins where his skin meets yours. You really are strikingly beautiful, even when your face is squished against his shoulder, even when your mouth hangs slightly open. And oh, the perfume you wear smells absolutely intoxicating. How is it possible he never realized how good you smell?
“Hello?”
He stares at you with his eyes wide open, movement stuck in its tracks while you blink away the sleep and gaze up at him in drunken confusion.
“Are we there yet?”
“No, we’re still on our way back”, he explains briefly.
You look around, the realization of where you are slowly but surely hitting you like a wall. Oh god, is this Satoru Gojo you’re resting your head on? And is it his hand that cups your cheeks.
“I-Im so sorry!”, you stutter, instantly lifting yourself up and stroking your hair.
Fuck, why is this so embarrassing? Even Gojo’s cheeks get light pink while he avoids your gaze, fumbling with his hands frantically.
“Nah I’m sorry. Should have pushed you back…”
You swallow hard, death silence hanging in the air. Even though you only slept for maybe 10 minutes, you feel like you haven’t had such a good nap in a long time. Was is because of him? Is it because you feel…safe?
“Your shoulder was quite comfortable”, you mutter before you can stop yourself.
“Yeah, you think so?”
“Somehow, yeah…”
Is Satoru Gojo maybe not as bad as you thought? He could have yanked your body back into the seat immediately if he wanted to. Hell, you wouldn’t have been able to even touch him if he didn’t allow it. So maybe, just maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought he does.
Just like you.
“Well, you can come over here anytime y’know.”
Your eyes dart towards him in an instant, looking for a single spark of dark humour on his face. But no. All he does is awkwardly smiling and patting his shoulder like he’s inviting you over.
Is this…Alright? Should you really do it?
“Your arm seems comfier than the window, so why not…”
Hesitantly, you loosen your seatbelt and slide into the middle seat right next to him. The warmth radiating from his body seems to swallow you whole in an instant, a yarn escaping you just by the thought of continuing your nap.
“Don’t you dare to tell anybody about this”, you mumble against his shoulder, eyelids already so heavy that you fail to keep them open.
“I will use this against you whenever I have the chance to.”
“Sato…”
Toge Inumaki
It’s hard to keep your eyes open when the old fart in front of you talks about his boring and made up adventures for over 2 hours by now. Not even the stinging fact that your crush is sitting next to you can keep you from holding your head in your hands, eyes slowly but surely closing.
Unexpectedly you feel a hand tapping against your forearm, ripping you out of your daydreams. Toge’s smile catches you off guard, sweeps you off the ground and almost off your chair. How embarrassing, did you really almost fall asleep while sitting next to him? Today was the first time you’ve had enough courage to ask him if he wants to sit next to you. How are you even able to be tired when he’s so close you can literally feel the heat radiating from his body?
With a firm smile, he slides a little note your way.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep”
You swallow, cheeks heating up in an instant. So he noticed? Oh no, earth should swallow you whole and get you out of this mess as soon as possible. Even though you can tell by his gorgeous eyes that he’s grinning, you can’t help but feel deeply ashamed.
“Thank you”, you mutter through gritted teeth, eyes darting towards the old fart in front.
Why didn’t you go to sleep early tonight, why did you read through all of those chapters when you knew that you’ll have a lecture early in the morning? That slow burn just really got you. Oh, but the main character reminds you so much of him. Him, the boy who doesn’t speak in anything but sushi ingredients in order to save all of you from getting cursed. Him, whose smile could enchant entire nations. Him, who stole your heart since you’ve joined Jujutsu High along his side back then.
But why do you have to make it so complicated, why do you have to act so damn strange around him? Toge must think you’re a total freak, always admiring him from afar while never really talking much with him. Even though he agreed on sitting next to you today, he might have done it because he feels sorry for you.
Your head sinks deeper and deeper, eyes closing themselves before you are able to stop them. When you get home, you’ll definitely finish that enemies to lovers story you’ve read all night. Maybe you’ll be able to be proud of youself for asking him out when you’re back in your room. And just maybe, you’ll be able to ask him out on a date sometime. Maybe stargazing? Or watching a movie together. Just the thought of cuddling with him…
Toge’s eyes dart towards you. Considering your slow breaths and how your head rests in your arms, you definitely fell asleep. Gently, he shakes your shoulder and back, taps your arm and slides a note your way.
“Tuna tuna”, he mumbles inaudibly.
But nothing works. No, your body doesn’t move an inch except for your head that searches a comfortable position. Slowly but surely, your head threatens to wander off the desk, sending you straight towards the floor.
His eyes dart around frantically. What is he supposed to do now? He can’t let the old man notice you fell asleep and risk that you’ll hurt your head. But on the other hand…
Touching you is something he imagined quite often. Since he first laid his eyes on you, it was over. Searching for you in every crowd, sitting next to you as often as possible, protecting you at any cost. Yes, Toge Inumaki fell head over heels for you.
But somehow it seems like you aren’t that interested in him, avoiding his gaze as good as possible, always mumbling short answers only. It surprised him when you came up to him today and asked him to sit next to you, his heart still beating out of his chest just by your presence. Would you be mad, disgusted even if he grabbed you, even if only to save you from falling to the ground?
He clenches his hands into fists, watching in horror as you begin to slide down your chair. What is he supposed to do?
In the matter of seconds, his hands grab your uniform just before you’re about to fall to the floor, catching you just in time and pulling your head onto his lap.
Onto his lap.
You are laying in his lap.
Oh god, this feels so right. No, he has to focus, what will you think of him when you wake up like that? And what will the others do when they catch both of you in this strange-looking position? His face goes pale in an instant, hands desperately holding onto your back so you don’t slide down. This is bad, very very bad. But on the other hand…
No, he can’t enjoy the fact that you’re laying in his lap right now, he can’t allow to let himself fall like that. You are asleep, it would be disgusting to use you like that. Especially when you clearly don’t like him the way he likes you.
He has no other chance but to wake you up.
“Sake”, he mutters along with gently tapping your shoulder.
“Sake.”
You don’t react. Instead, you cuddle yourself into his lap, arm now resting across his legs. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in and out.
“Sake!”, he hisses into your ear as loud as possible with somebody else noticing.
You jerk up, eyes darting around in confusion. What just happened? You must’ve fallen asleep. Urgh, that old fart is still talking…
“Tuna tuna?”
You blink at the boy next to you with doe eyes. He looks absolutely messed up, glossy orbs staring at you in pure horror. Oh no, did you do something embarrassing? Did you snore next to him? Or worse, did you drool?
Frantically, you wipe over your face. This is a nightmare and you’re still absolutely drained.
“I-I’m sorry”, you stutter.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just a idiot and went to bed way too late last night”, you blubber out.
Gently, Toge grabs the arm that is about to wipe over your face again mid-air and slides another note your way.
“You look cute when you sleep. Would you like to have a movie night when you’re fit again?”
You stare at the neatly written note with widen eyes. This can’t be real, right? Your crush didn’t just ask you out after you passed out on the desk during lecture. It’s like your tongue is stuck in your throat, mouth not able to move. This is way too good to be true, something you’ve dreamt about each and every night. Toge, having a movie night with you?
He stares at you nervously, how you blink over and over again in sheer disbelief. Oh no, was this a mistake, do you think he is a freak for asking you out on a movie night just after you fell asleep? What if you know that you laid in his lap, that he touched you without permission? This was a stupid idea, you made it clear multiple times that you aren’t interested in him like that-
“I…I’d love to”, you suddenly mutter so silently that Toge almost misses it.
“Salmon?”
“Yeah…I mean, if you’re still up for a meeting…”
“You two, will you shut up already? I’ll remove you from this class if you keep on talking!” the old man suddenly screams so loud that you flinch, sitting straight in your chair in an instant while your eyes dart towards him.
Toge shoves another note your way.
“I’m really excited about meeting you.”
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The Horror and The Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader)
A day after you and Konig's wedding. Who knew that evil emperors could be so romantic.
Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator
Word count: 3256
AO3
— Lift your hips up, princess. You don’t want to waste my seed.
You whimper, trying to get your legs down, so he can’t force you to spread them anymore – but you feel the hot seed getting back in the swell of your well-used maidenhood, and it makes you whimper only more. What a woeful sight indeed – a fake princess crying over having to take the seed of the strongest person in the whole continent. You know a thousand of women who would beg for an opportunity to have the Emperor’s hands on their hips, guiding them down to admire the look. You know that the real princess – your princess – would never agree to this ordeal, no matter the begging and the bribery. So, you don’t agree too.
— In m…my culture, a bride should wait at least a month after the marriage before the…conception, Your Majesty.
You lie through gritted teeth like it could change anything. Like it could magically force all the seed from your womb to the ground again, to the silk of the sheets under you. Like the mere tradition that you gave birth to the idea of a minute ago would stop you from being König’s breeding mare. Still, you refuse to lift your hips, a small resistance that puts a small chuckle to his lips. He is amused by you – or your stupidity. Princesses are supposed to be spoiled and bratty, right? Yours certainly was.
— Does your culture also make the bride lie to her husband?
You lick your lips, forcing them closed. No another quick witty word from you – your lies already got you on the edge of…something. After König announced he knew who you were this entire time, he got you on your back, on your belly, with your hips up and down, your head silly from lack of air as he choked you until you begged for your life – only for him to kiss you over and over. Feeding your womb with his seed until there was a bump, not giving any chance that the baby wasn’t there yet. If anything, he conquered your body the same way he did your country – and left your bruised hips as a reminder. The handprinted bruises covering your skin like the finest fabrics of the gown he got you.
— If you wish to order me dead, your majesty.
— Death doesn’t mean anything here, meine Liebe.
— Then banish me. For the lies and the betrayal of a royal…
He laughs – it’s a nice sound, still, something in your deprived mind likes the way you make him laugh and chuckle. Something in your head makes you feel as dizzy as you did when he cut off the air in your throat, every time that cold eyes of his look at you with warmth. heated obsession, whatever that is – you refuse to believe it was genuine, as you were borrowing your princess’s identity, but now, when he laughed and spoke about his true intentions, you weren’t sure if a pathetic and lowly lady-in-waiting is as safe in you as you thought.
— If being as stupid as you are is a punishable crime, then I’d finalyl have a good reason to kill off most of my harem.
He laughs again, a hand in your hair – getting out all of the fancy pins and bows and dead flowers that were forced to be held in your crown and on your head. You groan in pleasure as the pins scraping your scalp are finally removed – and try to get back at his hand immediately when he comes to squeeze your breasts again. Not for any reason – simply because you happened to have the aspects of your body that he could touch.
— Would be much safer to get a woman from a harem, sir. Not…not me.
— And if I wanted just you?
König looks at you – trembling, loved out completely. Covered in his marks, as many bites as a princess could take. Even being a servant, you’re almost as gentle and reserved as a real deal – but gods, if you weren’t the cutest thing he ever saw in that damned ugly country of yours. Hating nobility as much as he hated speaking to his troops not as their commander, König never particularly enjoyed the idea of having to marry some bitchy royal daughter…you, however, were the loophole in the god’s contract. A gift, just for him.
— Your council would make me disappear for deceiving you in the first place.
— No one would dare to leave the empire without heirs.
— You could have another one. There are plenty of princesses out there, Your Highness.
— And I don’t have enough patience to entertain you trying to sell me the idea of your freedom. Do you know what relief I felt when you were the one to meet me?
You don’t answer, instead prompting to just listen. You have good ears for listening – for allowing others to talk, so you wouldn’t be made to fill in awkward silences. König loves that and appreciates that. Finally, someone who can just be silent – even if he also has nothing to say, at least you’re scared and angry enough to dismiss him anyway. At least your unwillingness is making him less awkward at participating in the conversation.
— You knew who I was all along?
— Princesses are pampered. Even the poorest kingdom would never have a princess with hands as hard-working as yours, Schatz.
He takes his hands in yours – no matter the healing creams you rubbed in them, no matter the lack of actual physical labor, even the smallest tasks you performed for the princess, the tiniest exposure to cleaning supplies that would make the toughest skin crack, left a small traces in the skin of your palm. Fingers with clean nails – short, practical, indicating the need to have your hands in working order all of the time. Indicating your lack of a servant who would do everything – opening buttons on clothes, embroidery, and washing oneself’s body. indicating that you were said servant.
You look embarrassed that he pointed that out. Scared, almost.
— Are my hands too ugly for you, sir?
He can see the tremble in your fingers. He traces them with his – large, calloused hands keeping you in place. Rough skin and multiple ridges of scars over the darkened skin made you shiver from the contrast of the sensation – those are the hands of a ruler who isn’t afraid of taking a sword in his hands. Who almost got his arms chopped off for this altogether.
Then – he kisses them.
One finger at a time, every ridge and bump in your skin deserves a graze of emperor’s teeth as he tugs on rough skin around your knuckles. Your hands are soft, softer than a normal maid would have – but changed from the work you had to put. Every kiss and lick doesn’t make them gentle, doesn’t remove the experience you had – in braiding hair, in washing clothes, in cleaning up after a royal mess. It doesn’t change who you were, but with every little praise he whispers – crude language, really, but the affection in his words scares you more than any foreign insult could – with every toss of his lips over your palms, he is changing who you are. Who will you become in just a week or two.
He calls your hands beautiful – in North tongue, with a smile on his face. König loves to explore, and your body is a beautiful place for him to be. Your hands are the best place he could have been in the morning.
Some historians are already saying he has done more to this country than any other ruler ever could. But oh, the emperor knows that the most important thing he did here was kiss your fingers. Over and over.
You snap your arms back when he finally breaks down, starting to bite – the softer skin of your palms falling victim to his sharp teeth. Emperors aren’t supposed to have sharp teeth but for all he knows, he was born from a dog and raised by one. A wolf in wolf’s clothing.
— Your hands belong to an empress.
— Thought I was a regent.
— You are, mein Schatz. Can’t trust you with a country, ja?
You laugh, but there are tears in your eyes. Loss of whatever authority you could have as the princess's personal maid – her friend if he knew anything about royals and their habits. Scheisse, he was the emperor for 10 long years and still didn’t get a hang of it. Might be something he had to be born with – such a shame, really. Should have told his mother to never give birth to a rat that would usurp the throne once out of the crib.
He loves to see you weak, trembling like this – like a proper bride should. Like a real princess, the one whose manners should be enough to fool the people and the dumbest of his court. The smartest ones could always agree to put their tongues up their behinds – if they don’t want to get their heads chopped off by his blade, without even bothering an executioner to do it.
— But you can trust me with your children?
— This empire needs an heir. As much as I can rule forever.
— No one is immortal.
— Ach. Did Sebastian forget to visit you before the wedding, little princess?
He is mocking you, again and again – he laughs with death and you hate it, you hate yourself, you loathe him and his laughs and his crooked smile and the scars covering his skin and…he kisses your hands again, then – dips your hands up in that mask of his. Lets you feel the skin, involuntarily trace your fingertips all over everything hidden – you touch his teeth, his fangs, and you gasp in shock. So, the monster has lips. So, the monster has thin lips and wet mouth, and he dips his tongue all over the traces of knuckles and…
König knows you’d never agree to be his in a way that he wants you too – but this is fine. He can work you around. He can break you. He can please you. What a wonderful job would this be.
— Your court would soon find out I’m not the one.
— They know how to keep their mouths shut. You would, however, have to deal with my harem personally.
— Did you intended to add my princess to your harem too?
— If I knew that you wouldn’t take her place? Of course. I never visited the place for the exact reason I didn’t bother to find your patron.
— Are you really satisfied with the scraps?
Oh, his poor, dumb girl – he was feeding off scraps since he was ripped away from his mom’s tit. You were the only fancy meal he ever liked in his life – and gods, if he wouldn’t give up anything to taste you again.
On the other side, however, he can do just that.
König dips his head down, the traces of his hood laying on your labia. You whimper.
— I never ate anything as exquisite as you, little princess.
— I’m n…why do you keep calling me this?
— You will be my princess. Forever trapped on my lap, on the floor, chained to my throne like a…
With each word, his tongue laps on the glossiness of your lower lips. He gives your maiden a little kiss all over, he digs down like it’s a fancy meal indeed – the scrawny hairs of his stubble make you whimper every time they graze your clit. König has a fleeting thought of eating his cum out of your poor, sore body – that it wouldn’t be wise, that it would make the process of impregnating you slower. Then, he thinks – he can just fill you up with his seed later. And in the evening. And tomorrow.
He pushes his tongue down, deep – you gasp, you get your hands on his hood, not trying to tear it apart, but laying there like a scared maiden. You were one – you are one, after all. Gods, he could just keep you here forever if it weren’t for the country needing its empress.
König kisses you all over – you’re still smelling like rose water, like fragrances that were forcefully rubbed on your skin right before the wedding. A proper lady, you were bathed in salts and oils like a kitchen in poor man’s soup – but weren’t you looking beautiful in that dress of yours. Too bad he had to rip it eventually, stepping on it accidentally quite a few times as he was getting you water. Your little trick with the herb did make you thirsty in all possible ways.
You don’t know a lot about royal weddings, but you’re pretty sure that the emperor shouldn’t be sprawled on his giant bed like this, eating you out like you were the roasted lamb served at yesterday’s feast. You moan when the material of his mask is getting tricky with your gentle parts when the rough fabric is scrapping your thighs in a way that is far from arousal – and then he leans in, a head laying on your tummy. Your princess parts are swollen from his actions – and lack thereof. You almost think you could buck your hips up like a…
König takes off his hood.
— Wh…what are y…
You don’t master enough words before he is forcing his face against yours before his lips finally lay down on yours properly – and gods isn’t this a beautiful sight. The emperor, the vile conqueror, your biggest enemy, and your husband – smiling like a boy when he got free candy, like a cat who got the cream – like a man so in love, it makes him unable to stop smiling while looking at his wife.
He isn’t pretty in the sense that some of the rulers can be pretty – he isn’t hideous either. A rough face doesn’t look like something that belongs to a royal family – big nose, small lips, chiseled chin and not a sight of inbreeding. You try to see if his ears are wrong, at least, but they are fine – not caring about a bit of chopped-off bits, probably from old battles. He is rugged and handsome and rough and you hate that red stubble on his chin and his gorgeous ginger hair – if you were forced to see this face every day, you might give up and like him. It’s a good thing he wears the mask most of the time, isn’t it?
— You don’t like how your emperor looks, little princess?
He laughs again, then – cups your face in his hands and kisses you all over. Again and again, his lips fell on yours making you feel dumb, making you feel dizzy and just a bit charmed – like the potion you drank yesterday hadn’t fully worn off. You can taste your own pleasure on his lips and it makes you embarrassed – a proper lady should never enjoy a process as dirty as making love – your lower parts should only exist for him to take pleasure in ruining it, and for you – to birth little princes.
But König bows down before your lower lips, but König presses his tongue against your special spot again and again, and it makes you wonder if he recites the anthem of the empire on the little swollen bud between your legs – for his actions are filled with devotion that should only be reserved for one’s country, not for just a poor, dumb handmaiden whose only job was to lie and to protect. But…is it really all you want to do now? Just lay here and let him take him, without a chance of enjoying him playing with you if only for just a bit longer?
— I…I believe you look fine, Your Majesty.
— Just fine?
He smiles and kisses you down there again – the aftermath of your pleasure makes his lips feel too hard on your swollen parts, the climax had taken everything from you left only feelings, as naked and trembling as you are right now – and, by god, if you aren’t feeling like sold and set in pieces. You are selling your dignity right now, the loyalty to your kingdom is getting grazed by each new stroke of his tongue. You close your eyes and moan – for you can’t hold off your pleasure anymore. For you don’t see a reason in trying to pretend you don’t enjoy being treated like a princess after a life of servitude.
— You are fine for an emperor, my…my husband.
You struggle to say it – but you do have to say it eventually, at least in front of the servants. If he isn’t intent on keeping you locked away in a tower, pumping out babies like his little servant – maybe he wouldn’t want to keep you open for the world to take. You were a secluded princess kept in shadows before he discovered you, after all. You served the one, at least.
— Trying to cover the harsh words with honey, ja? I killed for less, mein Schatz.
— I assume you won’t kill me before the first son, at least?
— Wouldn’t kill you even if you’d be barren. I’d rather leave the empire to rot without an heir than choose someone else in your place.
— That is awful news for your empire.
— Our empire can rot without you, Meine Liebe. Never wanted the damned crown in the first place.
— But you’re fine with putting it on the head of a commoner?
— I was a commoner once. Know better than anyone else that a princess would never make a good wife.
You never studied his rise to power – the latest politics were hidden from you and the princess, the king never wanted to taint his daughter with such silly things as rising stars of the political arena – and he failed to mention the empire that was once rotting from its head getting a ruler who would take half of the continent and a daughter of every kingdom in his harem as the spoils of war.
He lays down beside you, taking you in his arms again. his hair flows all around you – he smells like blood, still, even after so many hours spent bathing in your shared musk. You wonder if everything he had done with the forbidden rituals made him like this – face torn and stitched back together again, harsh scars that can only be made from a blade or claws of a giant animal – and he pushes you down to press your face against his chest, taking in the feeling of laying beside your husband.
— Don’t you have something that needs to be done, Your Highness?
— The most important thing I need to do is lay between your legs, little princess. And you’re too swollen to be doing that.
You press your forehead against his chest. Taking it him and the light tan of his skin – you wonder where he could get it, if he almost never took off his armor. His face is as pale as it can be, and it makes him look a little silly when naked – but you refuse to smile and make him angry.
— I thought you wanted me to meet your harem.
— They can wait. We need to give them time to prepare the poison for you, right?
He laughs and you don’t find anything better to do than to press your head against his chest and close your eyes. The royal visits really can wait until tomorrow.
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