#I can try explaining it more in depth if someone asks

[wandixx]

GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice part 2

part one is here

@whimsicalchaosgarden you asked to be tagged, sorry it took so long

Trigger warnings: mentions of experimentation and dehumanization (tell me if there is more appropriate way of phrasing it)

“So,” Robin started, taking the voice recorder out of his utility belt. “It'll probably be best if we get an explanation while making an accident report. This way we get it all over sooner”

Everyone agreed with this idea, standing in the loose circle in the debriefing area to make it all feel more serious. They had limited time before the next batch of cookies needed to be taken out of the oven and there was no way they all wouldn't devolve into chaos when it happened. M’gann knew from experience. 

To make sure they wouldn't take too long and cookies wouldn't turn on the fire alarm (again) both she and Danny set a timer.

In the meantime they had to learn who actually attacked them earlier.

“Phantom do the honors”

Danny froze for a moment, looking like deer caught in the headlight before he asked in a bit squeaky voice:

“How do I make an accident report?”

“Just say what happened but make it sound fancy,” Artemis explained. 

“Make a mission report and we'll fix it along the way,” Kaldur proposed.

“Answer ‘When? Where? Who was involved? What happened? What have you done about it?’ without excessive use of puns to avoid Bat-lecture” Robin helped, already in handstand.

“Bat-lecture? Really Rob?”

“So it's like lab report lite” Danny said before Robin did anything more than squawk indignantly “Alright, I can do it. Do you have any set phrase to start? And which accident report is it, in the database?"

“44th… How about ‘[Hero name], report’? Sounds serious enough.”

Everyone agreed, so after a moment of silence Kaldur did the honors.

“Phantom, report”

Danny straightened, rolling his shoulders back and locked his eyes in the middle distance. It was a bit eerie how fast he went from relaxed and goofy to almost emotionless statue. M’gann wished to never encounter it again, thank you very much.

“Incident report no. 45 made by Young Justice member Phantom, regarding an attack from earlier today, 26th April 20XX. The Young Justice Team, later referred to as the Team, went on a trip to an amusement park staying currently in the city of Happy Harbour. It was an activity meant to strengthen interpersonal relationships within the Team, previously green-lit by Red Tornado. Every member was in civilian attire as per protocol. Around 3:15 PM, after two and a half hours, the Team were disturbed by a group of ten armed people, recognized by member Phantom as belonging to Ghost Investigation Ward, colloquially known as GIW or Guys In White because of their uniforms. Later in the report the organization will be referred to as the GIW. Two shots were fired by the assailants, targeting but not reaching member Phantom. Members of the GIW were hostile but with use of humor and threat of legal actions, the Team managed to diffuse the situation before it endangered passerbys. Despite direct attack, none of the Team members’ identities were compromised. Assailants left the confrontation with belief that Phantom left his ectoplasmic signature on an unrelated civilian. Agents refused to admit they were working for the GIW since its operations break a couple of laws of the state Rhode Island. Because of that, their appearance was reported to local law enforcement and taken care of. No injuries or damage to the city infrastructure were sustained other than two burns in the asphalt in the place of confrontation. Required follow-up with local law enforcement in civilian attire as victims of assault. End of report” Danny sighed, easing back into a more natural position. “This good?” he asked, with a sheepish smile.

“Perfect”

“How are you so good at reporting? You didn’t even know what to do a second ago? That’s just unfair”

“I used to write my parent’s lab reports. It’s pretty similar in form”

“Lab-”

“Follow-up to the report only, Kid-Flash,” Robin interrupted “Phantom. elaborate on who were the assailants”

Danny stepped back from himself again.

“GIW is a ghost hunting organization supported and accredited by the state government in Illinois, legally operating also in states Wisconsin and Ohio. Their goal is to catch and examine ecto-entities to learn more about their biology and ways to obliterate them. Obviously their plans for experimentation don’t include consideration of ghosts’ well-being”

“Damn, that’s messed up”

“They wouldn't catch a blob ghost if they tried,” Danny shrugged, though something was wrong with the gesture. She wasn't sure though, so she moved on.

“Then why were you scared?” M’gann pressed on instead.

“My parents… are, you know, prominent ghost hunters so when GIW opened we all got a tour around the whole building. The lab was… it made me imagine things I wished I had never thought about”

“They have labs? Like evil labs?” Robin perked up like a kid who just heard that Christmas came early. “How could you hide it from us?!” he added, falling to hang on Danny's shoulder. He twirled a bit to catch the left one even though before he stood on halfa’s right side. Dramatic as always “Conner, we have a birthday gift for you!”

“What does GIW’s lab have to do with my birthday?”

“The potential!” Robin yelled, straightening for a better effect.

Everyone started laughing. Well, everyone other than Conner who just looked at them confused.

“He probably wants to storm another lab, bring up nostalgia of our first meeting,” Kaldur calmed down just enough to explain.

“Tell me you wouldn't like to punch an evil scientist,” Wally added, almost dropping to the floor. 

“This does sound nice”

“And THIS is exactly the reason why I haven't told you all. Thanks for spoiling my surprise Rob,” Danny lied, though he did his best to sound truthful. He even projected some false mirth.

It would take much more to trick M’gann though. She abruptly stopped laughing.

“You're lying. Why actually haven't you told us?” she demanded maybe a little too harshly, but she was worried. Everyone froze for a moment, before turning to look at Danny.

“They're all bark no bite, and aim worse than Stormtroopers’, so I haven't considered them important enough to report”

Other's didn’t know, of course, but M’gann knew just how terrified Danny was during the confrontation and how echoes of that fear soured air around him even hours later.

Everyone did realize this explanation was a tone of bullshit though. 

Apparently incredulous stares were enough of the response.

“You and the Justice League have more important things to deal with than some shitty local laws”

“Bullshit again,” Artemis burst her lips “This is exactly what Justice League is for”

“I already found people to help me lobby against them”

“And why aren't we on the list?” 

Danny fell silent, not looking anyone in the eyes, which was quite a feat considering they had him in a half circle. M’gann considered moving to his side to show her support. Stare down like that had to be quite stressful.

Why not actually. She stepped closer, and drew him in the loose side hug. Danny tensed, which wasn't abnormal for him. He usually relaxed in about thirty seconds, if he didn't, she'd let go.

“I didn't expect them to breach the containment…”

“Each of these lies is worse, you know? Like, insulting our intelligence level of worse,” Artemis interrupted once more, pinning him with her eyes alone “Give us truth or stop talking”

Danny raised his head to look back at Artemis and mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key away. 

“Really?”

Boy just shrugged, not breaking eye contact.

“Alright, let's move on to the next question, how did it get approved in the first place?” Wally interrupted, waving his hand between them. They both shook off like dogs fresh out of water.

“Couldn't you wait five more seconds until I won?” 

“Ha! You wish Artemis. Though you could give us a moment”

“I gave you literal ages”

Danny snorted “Sorry, I keep forgetting how impatient you are”

“Oh shut up, my brain is just faster than yours, you slowpokes”

“Sure, sure”

“He made a good point,” Kaldur said “This shouldn’t even pass. And even if, you’re legally a Meta”

“Normal ghosts aren’t and halfas being a thing is not exactly common knowledge among the living”

“I’ll never get used to this distinction”

“I believe in you, Rob”

“What about ‘Extraterrestrial, extradimensional and otherwise previously unincluded’ Optional Protocol to the ‘International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights’?”

“Oh my god Conner, you’re the only person to say the whole name ever”

“Hey!”

“It all comes down to the definition of the ghost and the fact that Alien addition uses sentience and sapience as a ground to give anyone said rights. And also, US signed it but didn’t ratify it so…”

“Isn’t it same thing?”

“Nope. I thought so too, but apparently signing anything means nothing unless it’s also ratified, so I’m kinda fucked. Can’t even get the UN to frown at them disapprovingly, because officially, nothing was agreed to. And you know, even if they ratified it, ecto-scientists conducted enough research to prove we aren’t sapient enough to have these rights anyway. Just most of the states didn’t need to make a law out of it”

“That’s rough buddy”

“Are you really quoting Avatar at me right now? Really Artemis?”

“Yes”

“Wasn’t Avatar this movie with blue people? I don’t think they said that there”

M’gann wasn’t quite sure why human members seemed to be appalled by the question.

“We’re going to fix that later-”

“What exactly is there to be fixed, because I feel like we’re talking about to different things”

“- but for now can we go back to the whole ‘ghosts have no rights in Illinois’ thing” Robin continued, completely ignoring Conner’s questions.

“Illinois, Wisconsin and Ohio. There are portals to the Zone in two of these states. GIW already tried to send nuke through one of them”

“How Americana of them,” Kaldur muttered.

“If you have another insane tidbit about them, please share it all now. My mind can’t utilize any more revelations like that”

“I handled it, don’t worry”

“Someone tried to nuke literal Afterlife…”

“Yup, get on the schedule Kid Flash. You’re supposed to be fast”

M’gann knocked her arm into his, kinda as a ‘don’t be mean’ message. Danny kinda tensed, but soon relaxed back and moved his head as if he wanted to lay it on her shoulder. Excitement of the day was clearly catching up to him.

M’gann wouldn’t be mad if he did laid his head there.

“Why do we learn about it just now?”

“I wrote the report, not my fault you haven’t read it”

“Can’t fault us for assuming we’d know every important thing from your endless bitching!”

Danny straightened and laughed, in this horrible humorless way that made M’gann want to claw at her brain until she couldn’t hear or sense any of it.

Instead, she brought her other hand up and just held him tighter.

Thankfully the whole spectacle didn’t last long.

“It’s cute that you think I bitch about anything important”

“Phantom…”

“Don’t Phantom me right now. Even if by some miracle they managed to send the missile to the Zone, it most likely wouldn’t have worked. They’re mostly just a joke.”

“They managed to shot you. Right upper arm or shoulder”

“Don’t deny it, we’ve seen you wince when I leaned on you and when M’gann hugged you”

Martian tried to let go hearing that, but Danny held her in place. She stayed where she was but carefully moved her hand away from the slightly damp area on his shirt. She suddenly caught on everything that was wrong with him, now that she knew to look for it.

“I got worse from the hand of my house’s security system”

“You… understand that it’s… like… way worse, right?”

“You don’t know life until you hear threats of dissection against your alter ego after stopping death ray with bowl of cereal,” he said, relaxing more into her side again. He sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Do you want to move in here? Until we deal with this whole GIW and assorted mess?” she said instead. Conner nodded, surprisingly eager to share the space that he considered somewhat sacred.

“Nope, I’m good, I’m needed there”

“You could Zeta- yeah, no, nevermind, it wasn’t good idea. But we could make it work”

“You still should-”

“It’s fine. I mean, I have it handled and it doesn’t affect that many people. And we’re working on it. It’s fine”

“It really is not,” Conner growled.

“You need your arm patched up” M’gann demanded, ignoring previous conversation, with eyes still fixed on the blood that stained her forearm. She should’ve destroyed at least Operative K.

“I bandaged it up”

“It soaked through then. Let’s go to med–”

Loud shrill interrupted her, because of course it did.

“Oh, look, convenient distraction! Let’s take the cookies out before they get burned!”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” M’gann stated in a way that allowed no argument “You’re getting away for now only because I’m holding most of your weight right now”

“Sure we will. And I can stand on my own, thank you very much”

“I’ve heard many lies today and this might be the worst of them. We’re going to Medbay as soon as the cookies are out”

“You’ve got it boss”

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

Okay I don't do this normally but out of curiosity, I looked at that guys' posts and yeah they're going around sealioning anyone who likes Dimitri being all like "how can you say Dimitri/AM is your favorite when you didn't play all the routes". Buddy it's called having preferences, subjectivity and opinion. I'm sure if we twist their behavior around back at them, they'll be like stop bothering us for liking Edel cause double standards is their bread and butter.

Yeah, I had taken a brief scroll through their blog the first time I saw them argue with Random about Claude because I had a pretty strong feeling that they were just another stan running around around against Rhea and Dimitri fans because I knew that person didn't follow Random when they started pulling the bad faith Claude takes.

I scrolled through a few posts before I was like yeah I'm not even gonna bother looking further because I could see all they were doing was arguing with people whose names I recognized, and the only people who ever do that are the stans. They also have absolutely nothing else but discourse on their blog.

It's crazy to me too, because I've seen those same Dimitri fans try to talk about anything else FE related and yet they still get pulled back into discourse. Like, I'm at the point where I believe everyone in that immediate group is just actively being stalked by the stans (and I recall one of them mentioning they are being stalked by them, but my guess is if one of them is, all of them are).

Also, the stans tend to pull the "you didn't play xyz route" when I'm quite certain most if not all of the Dimitri fans on Tumblr have at the very bare minimum watched the full route on YouTube of anything they didn't play. All these people have the information they need to know where they stand opinion-wise, and like you said, it's just... having an opinion. The stans have their opinions, we don't agree with them, and we don't engage with them unless they engage with us first.

Something I've noticed about the group of Dimitri fans that gets stans going after them is that it's always the stans who start it. They always respond to asks sent to those people. In other words they go onto those people's blogs, look at their posts/their replies to their anons, and start arguing at them over literally anything they say in thsoe ask responses.

Every single time I see a post reach my dashboard from any of those people (you might know the Faerghus/Dimitri group I'm talking about), it's always a stan going after them when they were just answering one of their own anons and posting something on their own blog. I'm sure there are people who think they engage in discourse too much, but they don't even start it. They get harassed and can't just blog in peace.

Unfortunately those same stans have been targeting Random as of late (and I've noticed it's more and more different ones so they're probably going after someone as soon as they notice their buddies are doing so) so it's not that surprising that they've taken notice of me since she and I interact regularly. They basically go through the chain of who interacts with who and try to start shit.

Oh nonnie honey, you better believe if even a single Dimitri fan did to them what they do to us, they'd be all over that and whining about it and posting callouts and shit.

I just want to be able to post whatever my feelings are about Dimitri without worrying that people will try to tear it down because "it's not about Edel-chan and it portrays Dimitri in a good light".

I've blocked every Edelstan I've come across but more of them keep popping up, so... I guess the blocking never ends. My block list is basically just Edelstans and bots at this point with few exceptions.

Funny how the stans don't block Dimitri fans who hate Edelgard to avoid seeing them (it's because they don't actually want to, because they want to argue), even though we're all over here trying to block them, but some of them block evade to keep going. Literally like Dimitri fans have tried to block them and move on, but they persistently find ways to keep harassing. And like I said, they go down the line, so eventually they'll just find every active Dimitri lover who posts about him and whine at them.

[monstersholygrail]

Thinking about Puppy Hybrid Stay at Home Dad who was so doting on you when you were pregnant with his litter.

Every time he'd fuck you he was always nervous even though he knew the pups were completely safe. Still, as if he could help protect them, every time he'd fuck you he'd be holding onto the beautiful swell of your pregnant belly. Even as he was rutting his cock into you like he was trying to breed you all over again he'd be careful not to put too much weight on you.

But he is a needy boy after all and he craves the feel of your warm fat body so softly pressed against his. So he takes to fucking you from behind, one arm curled over your chest while the other holds your belly. Showing his gratitude for the lives you're growing with every brutal thrust of his cock.

Over the course of your pregnancy, the discomfort it brings growing an entire litter is rivaled by the constant pleasure Puppy Hybrid makes sure to fill you with. Providing it as the perfect distraction and making sure you're at your happiest.

And when the pups finally do come, Puppy Hybrid is practically shaking from holding in his need to unleash his excited zoomies. His tail wags rapidly, smacking against the hospital bed until he's instructed to tuck it away so it doesn't accidentally hit one of the nurses.He's just so so happy to finally get to meet all his pups.

But he makes sure to keep his attention on you, his sweet wonderful mate. He presses countless kisses to your sweaty cheeks, asking how you're feeling and praising you on how well you did, how you're the best parent already. Their pups couldn't have gotten more lucky than to have you.

After you're all sent home, Puppy Hybrid still wants to make sure you're resting. So as much as you try and argue, he insists on you staying in bed. He walks back and forth between the cribs and your bed all day. Bringing you your pups so that you can see them and beam at them with pride just as much as he is.

The next few months with you both on leave from work to take care of your pups are some of the best of Puppy Hybrids life. Being able to spend every minute of every day with his gorgeous family is an absolute dream. Seeing you taking care of your pups ignites all of his instincts, making him wanna breed you full of another litter already.

He even tries once, coyly suggesting it as you lay so prettily beneath him. His cock slamming into your depths until you're seeing stars. And that's when he sneaks in his little question. Your eyes roll back and you scream, begging him to breed your desperate hole. A long howl escapes him and he pumps his length inside you till he's coming and filling you with his seed till you're overflowing with it.

But when the heat begins to fade and your mind is no longer clouded by lust, you playfully scold him that now isn't the time. You both have to return to work soon and find someone to help care for the pups.

That sends your poor mates world crashing. His heart dropping into his stomach at the reminder. The idea of leaving his pups has tears pricking at his eyes and aching whines tearing from his throat. He can't stand it. Having someone else care for his pups is ridiculous. They're his not anyone else's. He's to care for them. It's the only option.

Despite the determination that begins to thrum in his chest and the slight growl in his throat, he's still nervous to toss the idea around with you. He doesn't know what he'd do if you guys couldn't work something out.

He just has to make it sound like such a good offer that it would be impossible to refuse.

Puppy Hybrid spends days trying to concoct the perfect way to raise the issue. But the next time you bring up looking for a Nanny he panics and spews out the first words that come to mind.

“Sounds great! W-where do I, uh, drop off my application?”

His cheeks immediately flush at the adorably confused look you send him and he spends the rest of the afternoon flustered as he tries to explain to you that he wants to be a stay at home dad. And your sweet smile gives him hope that it will all work out after all.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

been loving the jack abbott fics soooo much!!!

A request for a potential fic about Jack. I was thinking something along the lines of his wife is maybe in the Peds/Psych department and comes to consult in the ER sometimes. The newbies don't know her as Jack's wife, but just the kind peds/Psych doc and then something something they discover she's Jack's wife and they're all like "how did that happen?"

thank uuu!!! this is a good one!!

The Other Dr Abbott

Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x Wife!Reader

“Vitals are stable but he’s swinging between psychosis and charm like a damn metronome,” Santos muttered, watching the patient over the rim of her coffee cup.

Jack Abbott stood by the trauma bed, expression unreadable, arms crossed, as their patient—a shirtless man in his 30s with wild eyes and blood still drying under his nails—grinned up at the fluorescent lights like they were divine.

Dr. Whitaker explained the patient's history to Dr. Abbott, “He assaulted a pedestrian, bit a paramedic, and started quoting Shakespeare to the defibrillator. I think we’re out of our depth here.”

“Page psych,” Jack said without looking up.

“Already did,” Santos replied. “They said Dr. Abbot’s on call.”

Javadi looked up sharply. “But he’s standing right here.”

Jack sighed. “No. The other Dr. Abbot.”

Santos blinked. “There’s... two?”

Whitaker’s brows furrowed. “Is she your sister or something?”

But before they could interrogate further, the doors swung open.

In walked her—the hospital’s most requested psychiatrist. Elegant. Kind. Intimidating in the quietest way possible. She had a pen behind her ear, a folder under one arm, and a calm confidence that silenced the room the moment she entered.

“Hi,” she said gently. “I heard you needed psych?”

The patient lit up. “Ohhhh. There she is. Finally. Someone beautiful around here.”

Jack’s jaw ticked. “Watch it.”

The patient smirked. “What? Just saying. You all bring me the mean doctor with the wavey hair, but then this goddess walks in? Tell me you see it. She's the moon and you’re... I dunno. A pencil.”

Javadi bit her lip. Santos turned away, grinning.

The psychiatrist pulled on gloves with practiced grace. “I’m here to help, Mr. Reed. Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

“Like I’ve seen heaven,” he said smoothly. “And heaven is you. Are you single?”

Jack stepped forward. “She’s married.”

The patient cocked his head, eyes narrowing like he suddenly understood something far more interesting. “Wait a second... no way.”

“What?” Santos asked.

The patient pointed at Jack, then her. “You’re married. You two. I see it now. That stare. The way you hovered when I called her beautiful? You’re totally married.”

Silence.

Then:

“She’s your wife?” Whitaker all but gasped, looking at Jack like he’d just revealed he was an alien.

Jack didn’t blink. “Yeah.”

Santos’s mouth dropped open. “Hold on—how long has that been a thing?”

“Seven years,” she answered calmly, scribbling notes onto her chart.

Javadi stared. “You mean to tell me we’ve been working beside both of you this whole time and never knew?”

“We keep it professional,” she said, glancing at Jack, who was clearly trying to sink through the floor.

The patient beamed, delighted. “This is way better than when I saw a guy get tasered in the cafeteria.”

“Please sedate him,” Jack muttered.

His wife smirked. “Not yet. He’s lucid enough to spill tea.”

Santos laughed so hard she had to turn around. Whitaker looked like he was trying to solve an algebra problem with no numbers.

“But—but she’s so nice,” he mumbled.

“She is,” Jack said flatly. “And she married me anyway. Try not to think too hard about it.”

As she moved to the side of the bed, the patient winked at her. “I’m just saying... you could’ve done better.”

Jack leaned down, eyeing him coldly. “Say that again and I will intubate you awake.”

Everyone blinked.

The patient raised both hands. “Okay damn. The wave’s kinda hot now that I get the context.”

Javadi crossed her arms. “Well, now I get why he punched that radiologist last year for calling her sweetheart.”

Jack didn’t deny it.

[yieldtotemptation]

NOVEMBER ft. Somi

somi x male reader smut

9k words

"It's this challenge I'm doing. One whole month—thirty days—without having an orgasm," you're explaining, failing spectacularly at keeping things professional. Something possesses you to add: "No nutting. Hence the name."

Somi just stares at you. Flabbergasted.

Leans forward, elbows on her knees, chin in her palms; tearing your entire existence apart with her eyes.

"Can I just say, and I genuinely mean this in the nicest way possible—but that’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard."

—

Here's the conclusion you've arrived at from the one hour you've spent with her: Jeon Somi is some kind of demon.

It’s not a joke, it’s not some painterly metaphor you’re drawing—Somi has clawed her way out from the depths with nothing but a ponytail and an alarmingly tight pair of leggings; arriving on Earth, in the flesh, to make your life a living, breathing, sweat-drenched hell.

So, yeah.

Somi, the succubus. Or something close to that.

It's the only explanation for it really.

See, you're a photographer. Of women, specifically.

Beautiful women in intimate settings, sparse aesthetics. That’s your whole deal. Just homing in on the subject, capturing something ‘real’ without any distractions. Get the essence of who they are when there’s no one looking.

Pretentious, sure, but it’s what’s kept you in demand with the glossy magazines and the avant-garde galleries and the starlets desperate to convince the public that they’re more than just the pretty robots their agencies have programmed them to be.

So, suffice to say, you've met all the types.

The innocent idols that need a mountain of coaxing to come out of their shells. The stone-cold divas that barely acknowledge your existence, yet somehow still expect you to anticipate their every demand. And the flirts, willing to do just about anything for the camera with a wink and a nudge, if it means getting an edge on the rest of the industry.

But Somi? She just is.

Pure temptation incarnate, from head to toe, without even trying. Thighs that threaten to strangle your self-control, a waist that makes sinners out of saints, tits that would have physicists reconsidering the very nature of gravity, all topped by a dangerous smile that could melt a fucking igloo with its sheer wattage.

Somi’s hot.

She knows it, the world knows it, the public crucifies her for it. And she just takes it all, all of it. Melts it all together and forges it into armour.

And now she’s here, in your private space. None of the usual entourage of make-up artists, managers, whatever. Just herself and an absurdly sweet frappé. Looking so comfortable that it’s making you feel like you’re intruding.

She’s leaning on your table, ass flush against the wood, arms crossed, and her eyes—those fathomless dark pools—land on yours, holding them hostage.

Barely has to make any effort when she laces her words together, piles on an unhealthy dose of insinuation, cocks an eyebrow and asks—“So, how do you want me?”

Naked, preferably. On all fours, ass to the sky. Or maybe on her knees, mouth hanging open, tongue out, elbows squeezed together to make her tits sing.

Yeah, you're already composing the perfect shot in your head.

Fuck.

You rub your eyes. Maybe thirty days of self-imposed abstinence has finally broken you, and this is all some kind of feverish hallucination driven by your libido.

But no, Somi is still there, lounging in your studio, all curves and challenge. Just being insanely hot.

You cough, clear your throat. Put on the mask of someone far more professional.

“Anywhere you’d like,” you’re answering, keeping your expression decidedly blank. This isn’t the first time you’ve been the only outlet for a young sexpot desperate to let off some steam. You have the experience. But again—fuck. Thirty days is far too long. Somi is far too much. “Just keep it natural. Like I’m not even here.”

Somi just laughs, sweet and sinful, her whole thing. Pushes off the table with a grace that seems almost supernatural (again, see the demon theory), before adding a thought, like it just sprung up in her pretty head— “Easier said than done.”

Distractions aside, all things considered, she’s the perfect subject.

Gets what you’re going for immediately, makes herself at home amongst your studio's chaos. Glides around the room, runs her fingers over your equipment strewn about—the lights, the lenses, the negatives hanging in the corner.

The sway of her hips, the flex of her back. The dip of her brow and purse of her lips when she asks, "What's this for?", and the genuine interest when she listens to you explain about aperture, and light metres, and so on and so on.

(Snap a photo of her silhouette when she's by the window, leaning against the glass to spy on the passers-by.

Snap a photo of her smile, when you say something that's really not that funny, but she laughs anyway.

Snap a photo of her legs, when she finds a couch to lay on—stretching herself out, showing off their length, the tone of her thighs, the promise kept hidden by her leggings being pulled tighter and tighter.)

Another hour passes quickly, and you take a break there, more for your sanity than her endurance. Leave her to her own devices while you flick through the shots you’ve managed to get so far.

Only, when you scroll through your laptop, scan through the dozens upon dozens of rapid-fire photos you've taken—it's a horror show.

None of them work.

Not because of her, but because of you.

The way you've shot her. Far too revealing—you've put too much of yourself in these pictures. Turned them from images to confessions. Each one a fucking love letter to her body—her legs, her tits, her lips, her ass, her tits again—everything about her that makes you ache.

It's not art. It's borderline pornographic.

And yet, Somi's still just lying there.

Drinking down another pick-me-up that she's had delivered, this one with enough caffeine to take down several horses, chatting away so casually while you try to stitch your soul back together. Sipping and talking about who-knows-what, throwing out feelers, smiling easily, laughing sincerely, utterly oblivious to the havoc she's wreaking on your self-control.

An effortless grace when she lifts herself off the couch, saunters over to you and leans in far too close, gets far too familiar, lays on far too much charm when she asks, “Mind if I take a look?”

Yeah, you do, but you still force a calmness into your voice that you’re certainly not feeling when you turn the laptop so she can see.

“Wow,” is her initial review, and now she’s touching you, hand on your shoulder, tits pressed up against your arm and you’re certain that none of this is accidental, like an oh, just trying to get closer so I can better appreciate the photos you’re flipping through, never mind that you're getting a precise estimation of my cup size just from the feeling alone.

Do your best—ignore the pressure, the warmth, the softness. Watch her face, see all the tiny details; her eyes lighting up when she catches something she likes, her thoughtful hum at a particularly good shot. The smacking of her lips, the furrow of her brow, the recognition as you scroll.

One by one, with each photo, her expression morphing from curiosity to understanding.

She notices.

“You’re good at this.”

You wait for it. “That’s all?”

Her eyes glint, “None of these can be used though.”

“I know.”

The screen’s frozen on a particularly compromising shot: there’s Somi’s face, barely in it, just the bottom-half, her lips pouting out and looking all plump and delicious. Camera angled up high, pointing down the dip of her tight, sheer top and the shadowy valley that makes up her cleavage. Scanning down to her legs, folded to the side beneath her, the squish of her ass cheeks over her heels, spilling into the corner of the screen.

Sin, captured in fifty megapixels, barely contained inside a four by six frame.

A submissive dream.

“These for your personal collection, or—” and when she catches the heat rising up the back of your neck, changing directions, “—not that I mind, as long as I get a copy.”

Clearly finding all this much funnier than you are—that smile’s a knife to your chest. So sharp and knowing; it would have you gasping for air, if only you’d look.

Keep it cool, play it off with a shrug, “We’ll try again.”

“I doubt we’ll get any different results,” Somi’s predicting, bouncing on her toes now, getting closer and closer until she doesn’t need to make much of an effort to make herself heard. Close enough that she could feel you now, if she wanted to. Just brush her fingers over you and get a good idea of the reason why this photoshoot is going so far off the rails.

She instead leans her chin onto your shoulder, breath hot against your cheek. Like throwing a match on gasoline.

All the power of this girl, this woman, wrapped up in a single gesture. Wielding it so freely, so innocently, so easily. Heat that's self-aware, that knows just how much it's burning.

You caution, “Keep it professional.”

“Doesn’t that run counter to the whole aesthetic. I thought we were going for raw?”

“Natural.”

“What’s the difference?”

You need to stop yourself, shut the laptop, end the session right now before it’s much too late. Before you’re turning to her and realising just how close her lips are to yours, just how tiny her waist is compared to your hands, and you're saying the words that will end all semblance of propriety and professionalism— “With you, I don’t think there is one.”

“Well as long as we agree,” and Somi’s turning away, striding back to the couch, leaving you to breathe again. Making you thankful for the space, but missing the suffocation of her heat all at once.

Plopping herself down on the cushions, one leg folded under the other, leggings so thin you can see the shape of her underneath. Natural, just like you asked—looking like she's the only one here that’s exactly where she wants to be.

You’re thinking you’re off the hook.

Maybe you can get back to work.

Only, “So, it’s been a while, then?”

“Somi,” you’re saying her name for the first time, officially, and it’s coming out far too strangled. Far too needy. She loves the sound.

“Come on, humour me.”

“Somi,” again, you’re trying, clearing out the cobwebs from your throat.

“Sir.”

What the fuck.

She doesn’t move. Waits patiently for your answer.

You give her the inch, knowing she’ll take the mile.

Raking a hand through the back of your head. “Thirty days.”

The look on Somi's face is apoplectic. You're glad you have the wherewithal to capture it.

"It's a—" and you're feeling quite stupid as you explain it to her in detail; the abstinence for a month, the purpose of it all, the supposed benefits, "challenge."

That sends Somi ranting, hands flailing in the air. Incredulous, at you, at this challenge, at the idea of putting yourself through this self-imposed torture. “Stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

And then, when she sees your face.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But seriously. Thirty days? And not once.”

Your voice is dry. “No.”

“Not even by accident?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Wet dreams, nothing? No jerking it? No sex? At all?” Somi’s bursting out laughing, hand flying to cover her mouth, barely even able to breathe. It’s so absurd to her.

And it doesn’t take long before she puts it all together. Processes the information, sees the picture she’s painted of you. The sad, desperate artist, with nothing but a dying hunger and a camera. Realises the predicament you’ve put yourself in just by having her here.

She’s not laughing any more.

“And so you chose today, November 30th, to schedule me?”

You’re very, clearly frustrated. “Not my choice.”

“I see.” She bites her lip. Angles herself just so.

“Dial it back.”

“Tell that to your boner.”

You look down. Pants distinctly flat.

Somi’s grinning. “Made you look.”

“Are you done?” You ask, forcing yourself to look away from her, busying your hands by screwing on a different lens, as if it’ll somehow make her appear any less distracting, like it’ll blur out all your worst intentions and bring back some actual decorum to this whole fiasco. “We don’t have much time left.”

Turning back to her, raising your camera, aiming straight and true and—

Somi, unzipping her heels, kicking them across the floor with a dramatic flourish.

Snap.

Somi, lifting her top up and over her head, stretching her arms up high to push her breasts out forward; making them tight, outlined, so obviously pebbled against the cotton of her bra.

Snap.

Somi, digging her thumbs into the waistband of her tights, pointing her legs up in the air so she can peel them off without getting up, thrusting her hips up off the couch to yank them over her ass.

Snap.

“Somi,” you’re saying again, because apparently, you’ve forgotten how to make other words.

“Just doing what feels natural,” she says, smile turning wicked, reaching behind her back to unclasp and oh, now she’s completely naked. Rearranging herself into this pose. As if she isn’t already the centre of your universe.

Thirty days, flushed directly down the drain.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

—

You’ve found it, the perfect photograph.

Somi, kneeling on the couch, hands folded on her lap, staring down the barrel of your camera with her tits out. Unreal. Works of art, both of them. Miracles of flesh, gravity be damned.

“You’re not taking any photos,” she points out.

You swallow hard. “I’m taking it in.” 

Her hands come up to cup her breasts, giving them a bounce. For fun. For you. For the look on your face. You capture the jiggle. "Good, because I'd hate to think all this was going to waste."

It’s a little fucked up, how right Somi is. You wanted raw, honest—here it is, Somi as she kneels. Just being herself, being the woman everyone accuses her of being—the sinner, the whore, the slut.

Being the woman she knows she is, with everything that it implies—the confidence, the appeal, the fucking powerhouse of magnetic attraction. Not an image being projected, not a role she’s playing, but the reality of her, shooting straight into your veins, raw sex personified—as natural as breathing.

And before you know it, you’re capturing her lips with yours, an ‘mmmph’ slipping out from her as your mouths collide and your tongues meet.

It’s not intentional, it just happens. You lean in, she’s hot, she smells like heaven and sin wrapped in a neat little bow and you’re kissing her.

Tongue finds hers, attacks, retreats, joins and intertwines, and it’s everything you imagined it would be turned all the way up—sweeter, hotter, and so much more fucking dangerous.

Lips head south, tongue sliding along her neck, teeth on her shoulder, kisses into her collarbone; and finally, you’re at her breasts.

Softer than a dream, tasting like pure addiction; you kiss the tops of her breasts, lap up all the sweat that’s beaded down in between. Drag your tongue down, follow the curve, the dip, and ending at the hard little points poking against your lips. Filling your mouth with as much of it as you can—licking, suckling, making a complete mess of spit on her chest, and then biting, just a little, just to make her moan.

“So this is what denial does to a man, hm?”  Somi slithers into your ears, under your skin, hands at the back of your head and holding you in place.

She arches into you, pushing herself closer, letting you taste, indulge. Feast on what you’ve been missing out over this long stretch of days.

And fuck, maybe it is the abstinence, the pent-up need, or maybe it’s the fact that tits in general are just fucking incredible things. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that it’s Somi, in all her outrageously perfect glory, so happy to be the one that gets to ruin you, that’s making you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust.

Not that it matters one bit.

Not that there’s any thoughts at all in your head; there’s just Somi’s tits and your tongue. Lapping it up like you’re trying to drink her in, memorise every contour, every curve, every little goosebump you induce with each swipe of your tongue.

Somi’s tits; a canvas, and your mouth’s painting the picture of a lifetime.

“Baby,” Somi coos, hands on the side of your face, lifting you up off the cushions of her breasts. She’s giggling, her fingers wiping at the strings of drool that you hadn’t even realised you’d been leaving behind. “Remember what we’re here for?”

Right.

The camera. The art. The job. The no-touching rule.

But your mind is a blurry mess of tits and need, and all your blood has headed south for the afternoon, and it's making you feel like you're melting from the inside out.

“Let me give you a hand.” Somi’s gentle with you, like you’re a stick of dynamite with a frayed wick, just the slightest touch and you’ll blow.

She takes your hand, fingers brushing against yours, little sparks of electricity making your hairs stand on end, and lifts your camera up to point directly at her.

And then, she smirks. As if to say, yeah, she’s read all your thoughts; seen straight into you and has discovered the vault where you’ve kept every one of your deepest, darkest impulses locked up for thirty long days.

Somi repositions herself. Poses her body, determined to bring every single filthy, desperate, starving fantasy of yours to life.

Reclining back into the couch, thighs apart, spreading her legs wide.

Showing off her cunt.

Bare and gleaming. Shaven clean—just this perfect, pink, wet little pussy calling out to you. Open like a fucking invitation.

You’re staring.

She waits for you to catch up.

“Now would be a good time to start using that camera.”

You take a step back. Heart racing, hands shaking; you’re usually so much better than this. Take a deep breath, lift the camera, do your job, make your art, capture as much as you can while you have fucking perfection putting herself on display for you.

The click, the shutter echoing through the studio.

It makes Somi sigh.

Her eyes find the lens, locking down her target. A fucking miracle of biology, that’s Somi. Born to have cameras on her, as in love with them as they are with her.

Her fingers dip, trace down over her ludicrously tiny waist, her abs, her bellybutton, stopping short of her mound. Dancing over her pussy, light as a feather.

Fucking grinning as she asks, “Like what you see?”

The camera’s flash answers for you.

Touching herself, stroking, circling, pressing down. Building a crescendo that you can see painted on her; through the tensing of her abs, the heaving of her breasts, her cheeks going pink, her breaths getting shorter, and her lips parting to moan.

You’re barely conscious of the fact that you’re talking under your breath, a singular demand— “Keep going.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thirty days of denial has turned you into a starving man, only for Somi to show up and make herself a full-course feast. The perfect model, but also the worst fucking thing possible for your resolve.

You take a deep breath, grip the camera tighter.

If you’re going to crack, you might as well go out with a bang.

Guiding her, as if she was any other client, and this was just another photoshoot— “Open your legs wider, Somi. Show me everything.”

Her eyes widen, pupils dilate. Sparks, excitement, lighting them up. She does as she’s told, pushing out her knees further, sinking down into the couch cushions.

Thighs quivering, pussy sopping wet and pulsing. All for you. For your camera.

Another click, the shutter again, like a time-bomb ticking down to your doom.

“Play with your clit. Tease it.”

Her hand obeys, delicate, slender fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, hips bucking slightly with each pass. The noises she makes are obscene. Harsh, breathy whispers that make you throb; moans that get caught in the back of her throat.

It’s a rush of blood straight to the head, an almost dizzying sensation, having Somi so eagerly following your every command. Her face says it all, this slut positively loves being told what to do.

“Keep it light. That’s it,” you say, stepping closer, hitting your marks, your angles. “Turn to me. I want to see your face.”

“Like this?” Somi breathes, turning to face you fully, her hand still playing with herself, stroking in a way that's almost cruel—so gentle, so teasing, so obviously designed to make you lose your mind. “Getting the pictures you’ve been dreaming of? Someone like me all spread out for you?”

You nod, jaw clenched, keeping steady. Or at least, you think you are, considering how good Somi’s making this for you.

Making sure you get the right shots of her—her pussy, swollen and puffy, dripping down a puddle onto your couch. Her tits; pinched until they’re hard and sensitive, a vivid red against the stark white of her skin. Her eyes, wide and wild and looking straight down the lens, communicating her arousal in a million different heated ways without saying a single word.

Let it be known; Somi knows exactly what she’s doing.

Knows when to sigh, knows how to arch her back, knows in which direction to pout her lips. Knows how to make every click of the camera count.

“Good girl,” you’re telling her, praising her, and it’s enough to make her keen.

“Am I?”

“Of course,” you say, leaning in closer, close enough to feel the heat of her body, a furnace against your skin. See the sweat dripping down her thighs, tiny little droplets shimmering against the muscle, begging to be licked away. “You’re doing so good, Somi. So, so good.”

You’re getting closer now, kneeling. All for the sake of the perfect shot.

Seeing her fingers work, spreading herself open, exposing her folds, glistening. Her clit standing tall and proud. Her entrance pulsing, waiting to be filled. It’s like watching a masterpiece come to life, a photo that’s been taken a thousand times before but never quite captured right. Until now. Until Somi.

Somi's smiling down at you, all knowing, all tempting, making your mouth water, and it takes all your self-discipline to not drop the camera and replace your lens with your tongue.

She laughs, low and throaty. “Looks like you’re enjoying the view.”

“You have no idea, Somi,” you answer, adding, “But you can make it better, can’t you? Make it wetter. Hotter.”

“Mmhmm,” she agrees, getting to work at making your instructions real. She’s a professional too, after all. A master of her craft. Her other hand snakes down to join her first; one hand pressing firmly down on her clit, the other plunging two fingers up into her cunt. Pushing in, curling, until it’s hitting that sweet spot that makes her preen.

“Perfect, Somi.”

You’re transfixed, as Somi starts to fuck herself in earnest, the camera almost forgotten in your hand. She’s so drenched that every stroke is accompanied by a wet, slick sound; and the way she’s creaming around her digits, dripping down her wrist, it’s far beyond a simple performance being put on for the sake of a photograph. It’s the real deal.

Somi’s breaths come faster, her eyes glaze over, and she’s biting down on her bottom lip, trying to keep from crying out too loudly.

You know you’re getting the best of her, can see it across her face: this is what she truly enjoys. Being watched, being desired, being told what to do all for your pleasure.

“Oh, baby,” she’s barely managing hushed, strained whispers, “Oh, oh, oh…”

You feel like you’re in a trance, your own hand wandering down, needing to adjust lest you rip right through your jeans. The sight alone is devastating enough, but it’s making you swell, until there’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.

“That looks so,” Somi’s licking her lips, seeing the state you’re in, seeing the desperation in your eyes, the strain down below, “Nice.”

The camera is your anchor, your north star in this whole mess. You keep it steady, even as Somi’s breaths grow shallower, turn to pants. Losing herself to you, to the moment, to being captured in all her vulnerability.

She’s fucking herself even faster now, fingers sawing in and out of her pussy, wetter and wetter still, knuckles turning white with the force she’s applying.

“You’re doing so good, Somi, such a good girl for me,” you’re reassuring her, unable to hold back your own need, your own desire from leaking into your voice. It’s a battle, a war really, against your own urges, your innate desire to just drop everything and dive into her, feel her tightness around you, make her scream out your name.

But it’s too soon, Somi’s too close, and it would be a fucking crime to stop her.

“Baby,” she gasps, the word a prayer and a taunt in equal measure, “Baby, I don’t think I can last any longer.”

You’re grinning now, heart racing, camera at the ready. “Good.”

Somi’s on a knife’s edge, balancing on the precipice of climax. You can see it in how her body’s seizing, how she throws her head back, exposing her neck to you—needing your kiss, your bite, your claim. But you resist, intent on capturing every moment of her unravelling.

Because you want to know. Want to capture it. How she cums. What sounds she makes, what noises she can’t keep in. What she looks like when she falls apart.

“Cum for me, Somi,” you’re telling her, “I want to capture it all.”

Somi trembles. She wants it too.

Her eyes screw shut, her breath hitches, and she’s there, sinking back into the couch, letting out this sweet little gasp of anticipation.

The studio goes silent except for the sound of her fingers in her cunt and the shuttering of your camera.

In, out, snap.

In, out, snap.

Fucking herself. Fucking you with her very existence.

And then—“I’m going to—”

Her body arches off the couch, a scream ripping from her throat, her hand working furiously, pussy clenching so sweetly around her fingers. It’s the type of photo people spend entire careers never getting to capture, the most beautifully obscene sight you’ve ever been lucky to witness—Somi, in the throes of pleasure, wracked by her own orgasm, all for the sake of your camera.

It hits her hard and fast and all at once, turns her body into a bow, taut and tense, before it’s released, snapped, melting her down into a boneless puddle.

You watch in awe as Somi cums, writhes and wriggles, and she makes these noises that you’ve never heard from a woman before; crying out so loud you’re surprised the neighbours aren’t banging down the door to see what the commotion is about.

It’s only when she finally relaxes, is released from her orgasm, that you lower the camera, out of breath from the sheer exertion wrought by just watching her.

You’re both near devastation—Somi sprawled on the couch, chest rising and falling, eyes closed and an elated smile on her face, and you, knees threatening to give out, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of her satisfaction.

“That was—” Somi tries shaping the words, but they don’t come. She just lies there, lazy and sated, catching her breath.

Moments pass before she can open her eyes again, only to find you, standing over her, jeans vanished, cock out and level with her parted lips.

“That was just the beginning, Somi.”

It's just the sight of you, but Somi’s delighted. Seeing you like this—exposed and so ridiculously hard. All because of her.

She slides off the couch, kneeling at your feet.

“Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. Anything at all. Just make sure you capture it.”

“Then suck.”

Wet, hot heaven. Somi’s mouth is heaven.

Tongue darting forward, swirling around the tip, teeth grazing the head, and you’re groaning, hips jerking forward involuntarily until you’re falling into her mouth.

Somi’s got a way about her, a finesse that’s unmatched in everything she does. So, so good for you; opening her mouth nice and wide, hollowing her cheeks just right, pursing her lips to make sure you feel it when she sucks.

Just gleeful when your hand finds purchase in her ponytail, when hers wrap around the base of your cock, and you push. Inch by inch into the sweet heat of her mouth, taking it all, making sure you can see it, see how thankful she is to be granted the privilege of swallowing you whole; of having you completely filling her throat.

Holding herself there, nose pressed up against your stomach, eyes looking up, watering slightly around the edges. Not even gagging, just warming your cock with her throat, pulsing, tight, unbearably hot.

She raises her brows.

Ah, that’s right.

Snap.

Pulling off you, dragging her lips, her tongue up your shaft, leaving behind a choked, drooling mess that she’s so fucking proud of.

Giggling around a mouthful of your cock, laughter vibrating across your skin, and it’s a wonder you don’t lose yourself right then and there.

But somehow, you hold on; brace yourself against Somi massaging your balls, tickling the underside of your tip with her tongue. Playing with you, taunting, enjoying every second. Popping your cock out of her mouth so she can truly take measure of you at your achingly hardest, so she can breathe onto your cock in wonder, “Just look at you.”

Balancing your length in the palm of her hand, barely able to wrap her fingers around your girth.

“So big, so hard,” she’s rapt, talking to you, to herself, making sure the ghosts haunting your studio know exactly what she’s dealing with her. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it?”

“Darling,” you’re calling her, making her swoon, “Take it all.”

And she does. Somi, eager, opens her mouth wide, and lets you fuck her face. Getting you deep, so deep that you can feel her throat clench around your tip, slurping, moaning, choking now, but never, ever stopping. Just drooling down your thighs like the good little slut she knows you need her to be.

You’re back at it, taking photos, trying to get the perfect angle, but it’s proving a big ask when your knees are wobbling and your vision’s growing blurry. You’ve got Somi’s eyes in the viewfinder, all wide and blown with lust, looking straight through the lens of the camera and at you, daring you to break first.

But there’s still so much more of her to capture, so much more of her face to fuck.

Her red lips against your skin. Her cheeks bulging with your length. The line of her throat as she swallows. The tears in her eyes when she gags.

Somi’s arms loop around your back, cupping your ass, pulling you closer, urging you deeper.

Winking, giving you all the right cues; a muffled, “Here,” she says with her eyes. “This angle.”

And she’s right. It’s perfect. She’s got a talent for this.

Taking you deep, feeling like your cock’s never going to be able to leave her throat, only to pull back so you can see just how much she’s enjoying herself. How much she’s into this, so grateful to have you capturing every moan, every gag, every little sound she makes as you fuck her mouth like it’s the first time—and after a whole month it might as well be.

“Fuck, take it, Somi, you’re doing so well,” you tell her, knowing what it does to her—the praise, the adoration. Absorbed straight into her bloodstream, making her work harder, suck better, choke a little more. “Such a good girl.”

She loves it. Her eyes brighten, she squeezes your thighs, nails digging in. She loves it all.

You’re getting so close, you can feel it—thirty days of denial are about to come to a head, and she's going to be the one to bring you there. And yet, you still haven’t gotten nearly enough pictures to do her justice.

Somi sees it too, she can tell, knows just how close you are, but still, she's just lie you. She wants more.

She pulls back, an idea hatching in that filthy mind of hers, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Wait,” she says, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, cleaning herself of her spit, her drool, your leakage. “I want another photo. For comparison’s sake. Just for my memories.”

You’re not sure what she means, but you don’t ask questions. You just keep your camera at the ready, watching her move, watching her lean closer.

Your cock hovering just above her cheek, tip bumping up against her nose, leaving a wet streak across her face. She holds herself there, your length atop her face, and it’s all in view—her eyes fluttering closed, the tip of her tongue poking out to catch a taste of your precum, the way she’s breathing, deep and heavy, smelling the scent of you, inhaling it like it’s oxygen.

Somi—her face, her tits, her waist, her thighs.

Your cock.

All in view.

That’s the photo.

And when it’s done, you’re backing off, relearning how to breath, how to stand on your own two feet without crumbling to the ground. Somi’s tongue chases you but you’re out of reach, setting the camera down on the floor.

You need to get in on this. Fuck silly challenges. Fuck being a passive observer.

You’re done just watching. You need to feel her.

Somi looks at you all smug and satisfied, on her knees, awaiting your next instruction. “Finished taking pictures?”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you start peeling off your clothes, each layer like a heavy weight of your shoulders; until you’re just as bare and needy as she is.

Back to Somi, cradling her face, letting her lean into your palm. Running your thumb across her jaw, dragging it across her lips, stamping it onto her tongue.

She sucks.

Christ.

Thirty days of hell, given up for one moment in heaven.

Fuck it. She’ll make it worth it.

You tell her in simple, clear terms. “I’m going to fuck you now, Somi.”

“Please.”

It’s your turn now.

You relax into the couch, legs spread wide, cock throbbing in the open air, beckoning her to come closer.

Somi reads the room, your posture, your need, and she rises to the occasion. Joining you on the couch, back on her knees, thighs gripping on the outside of yours. Hands planted firmly on your shoulders, and the whole time, her eyes don’t leave yours, not even for a second.

Appreciate her, this woman, giving herself over to you.

Untying her ponytail, sending honey-brown hair cascading down her face, caressing her neck, her shoulders, meeting the tops of her breasts, perfectly rounded and waiting for the return of your teeth. Her waist, her abs, tensing and releasing, with every hot breath. And her pussy, already there, shimmering, dribbling down your cock, waiting.

Somi’s waiting for your permission.

So, taking her by the back of her neck, pulling her close, kissing her hard. Forcing this whine into your throat as your cock bumps up against her folds, sets off fireworks down her spine.

It’s a translation. Your need, from your tongue to hers, telling her that it’s only her that can do this you. Can rip you from responsibilities, from sanity, from all the shit that’s been keeping you going for the last thirty days.

Telling her that it’s worth giving it all up for just a taste, because maybe that’s the point of the challenge in the first place. Not a matter of self-control but a way to save yourself for something—someone—so potent, so powerful, so fucking irresistible that you just have to surrender to.

You pull apart, breaths hot and ragged, tongues still connected by strands, your hands already at her waist.

“You’re going to ride me, Somi. You’re going to cum on my cock and I’m going to watch it all.”

Somi nods, understanding.

Letting you guide her by the hips, sliding her fingers between her legs to take hold of your cock, aiming it at her entrance.

Lowering herself down, slow, so fucking slow, like it’s a brand-new form of torture, until your cock is nestled at the entrance of her heat, and you’re both vibrating with the anticipation of it, the gravity of this moment.

You take a harsh breath. “Ready?”

Somi presses her forehead to yours. Teasing, “Are you?”

And then, inch by inch, dragging her cunt down your shaft, making you feel every bit of her wetness, her tightness, every bit of her heat, Somi takes you in.

Pussy tightening around you like a fist, walls pulsing, massaging your cock, like she’s already trying to milk you dry. This moan that’s torn from her lips, deep and primal, something she’s been holding in for far too long, this needy, unholy cry that takes the shape of your name.

And when she’s bottomed out, when you’ve filled her until all she knows is you, Somi looks down in your eyes, nothing but pure, unfiltered lust strewn across her face. “Everything you were hoping for?”

You try, but fail, to form coherent words, just manage a grunt of pleasure, a nod of your head, and she laughs—it's the sweetest, most evil sound you've ever heard. She's got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“Good to know,” she says, and that’s all she needs to start moving, to set the rhythm that’s going to shake the walls, send them crashing to the ground until all that’s left is the two of you fucking amongst the rubble.

Her thighs tighten around you, hips start to roll in a way that’s just too fucking good, too fucking perfect. The friction is everything, makes the world narrow to just the two of you, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the drenched slick of her pussy, the heavy scent of her filling the air.

“Baby,” she repeats, each time her thighs slap down against yours, each thrust all the way up into her guts. “This cock is so perfect for me, so fucking—”

A snap of your hips into her, pulling her down hard, making her tits jump at the force of it, making Somi wail. There’s her cunt, spasming around you, tightening, trying to hold you in, trying to keep you there, but you’re not letting up.

You take over, holding by the hips and fucking her, like you’ve been waiting for, like you’ve been so fucking desperate for, like she needs so badly.

“God, you’re really—really fucking pent up, aren't you?" Somi's words are chopped up by the relentless thrusts of your hips, making her stutter, her voice all strained and breathy. Bouncing on you now, letting you set the pace, eyes screwed shut, just giving herself over to you. “I’m so, so lucky. So lucky that it gets to be me that breaks you. That takes you. That gets all this cum you’ve been saving this whole time.”

You’re gritting your teeth, unable to do anything but just fuck. Driven mad by it, by every impulse coming right up to the surface.

Everything you’ve been holding back, it’s all here, being unleashed onto Somi.

Fuck her, fill her, make her scream—‘Please, please, please’. Those are the only thoughts in your head now. Forget about the job, the photographs, the responsibility—just be yourself, a man on the edge, ready to jump off the fucking cliff.

“Baby,” Somi’s repeating, as your fingers find purchase in her ass, as she lays kisses on your shoulder, marking you up along your neck and down your jaw. There’s other words too—filth, all of it; whining to you about how you’re filling her up so good, about how she’s so wet for you, about how you’re going to make her cum so hard. But it’s all just noise to you. Noise that can be summarised in the simplest of requests, right from Somi’s lips—“Please, fucking use me.”

It's the perfect way to come apart—have someone like Somi, with her heavenly tits in your face, and her greedy, greedy cunt soaking up everything you’re willing to give. Begging, wanting, needing to be ruined.

“So fucking tight for me,” you’re kissing into her chest, finding your voice somewhere between her breasts. Telling her, “Fuck, Somi, your pussy. It’s so good for me. So fucking perfectly wet.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Somi sighs back, arms barely hanging on, holding at your neck, unable to do nothing but whimper and bear it. Bear this fucking you’re giving her, your cock invading her cunt, making her pussy tighten around it like a vice, making her abs clench, her tits jump, her throat swallow—making her sweat.

It’s like she was made for this—cunt made for your cock, body made for your arms. Somi, perfectly designed to be used by you. To moan and whine at your mercy; to be fucked, to be filled, to ruin you and to be ruined all the same.

“I can’t, I’m trying but I can’t hold on,” Somi’s teary-eyed, kissing at your face, your neck, her breath hot and sweet against your ear. “Baby, please. I need to feel you. Need more of you.”

And you’re only too eager to oblige.

Lifting your head, pulling her body closer. Catching her left nipple in your mouth, sucking hard, nipping at the peak until she’s gasping, until she’s arching her back, pressing her chest closer. Feeling the flesh flush against your lips, hitting your chin with each hard thrust.

Fuck, her tits. You could suffocate between them only to claw your way out of the grave just for another taste.

Her nails dig into your scalp, demanding more—more attention, more adoration, more worship. You give it to her—switching between each of her breasts, suckling and licking, making her whine and buck against your teeth.

“Just like that, you’re so good at that, so good with my tits,” she moans, short, tiny sighs that send your hips jerking upwards. Fucking her faster, quick, staccato thrusts that hit her just right, make her walls quiver around you. “They’re yours, all for you. All of me is yours.”

Her orgasm builds; it’s palpable, a storm brewing in the studio, sweeping up everything in its path. Each breath she takes is a hitch, a little cry, a whine. So tight around you, fucking her so hard, so deep that you can feel it coming from the inside out.

“Filling me so good, so, so good,” she mewls, and there’s still some fight in her left, a burst of energy in her thighs, allowing her to grind down harder, drop her ass on you—an up, down, up, down that echoes through the studio with each smack.

“You’re going to cum for me Somi,” you’re telling her, detailing exactly how she’ll come completely apart. “You’re going to cum all over my cock, you’re going to scream for me when you do it, okay? Tell me how good it feels.”

“Yes, yes, yes, tell me what you want—anything—I’ll do it, I’ll be so, so good for you—”

“You’re going to beg me for my cum, Somi. Going to beg me to give it to you until you can’t take any more,” you’re growling, your teeth sinking into her tits, your tongue pushing up against her flesh, making her sing.

You’re fucking her apart, tearing her in two with your cock. This girl you've only just met, who only just walked into your life; nothing but sex in a pair of high heels, and you’re already rearranging the furniture of her soul.

Now she’s the one that can’t make sense of things, can’t form full sentences—just incoherent whines and cries, each one stacking on top of the other, until the foundation’s all tilted and it’s going to collapse any second now.

Just waiting for you.

Separate from her chest, take a fistful of her hair, pull her back so you can look in her eyes and see. See just how badly you’re ruining her, how terribly she’s falling apart.

Make sure she can see you, has her attention on nothing but you when you tell her, finally, “Cum. Cum for me, Somi. All over my cock.”

She’s breaking.

“Now.”

“Please, I—” Somi’s words live and die on her lips, barely making it out before it hits her, seizes her entirely, forces her cunt to strangle your cock as she shatters.

It’s all there, her pussy tightening, pulsing, clenching, releasing in this quake of bliss that feels like a sucker punch straight through your gut.

When she cums it hits her, hits you, waves of heat washing over your cock, splashing down onto your thighs. It’s the sensation. So overwhelming, so undeniable, grinding down her orgasm onto you, pleading, over and over and over again, “Don't stop, don't stop, please!”

Writhing in your arms, needing to be held close to stop her from falling off the couch completely. Eyes rolling, head thrown back, exposing her neck, the perfect arc of her throat. Her body jolts, jerks, twitches, and it has you fucking hypnotised.

And all Somi can do is say, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”

She keeps going, until each thread is unravelled, until you’ve fucked loose every last bit of control she’s got, until she’s nothing but a trembling mess in your arms.

But it’s not over, not yet.

You’re still hard, so fucking hard. Bursting at the seams. And Somi’s looking down at you, pulling herself back together. Seeing your cock, buried inside her. Seeing the mess you’ve made of her, her own pussy. Seeing everything.

And she’s smiling, because she knows what comes next.

“Use me.”

You lift her off your cock, so easy to carry; her tiny waist in your hands, she’s so light. Still shivering, these tiny, little aftershocks quivering through her, it’s like she’s clay in your hands, ready to be moulded at your discretion.

Somi gasps when she’s laid out on the couch, her legs spread wide, her cunt leaking down her thighs, all cream and cum. She adjusts herself, makes herself comfortable, presentable. Putting herself in the best possible state to be used by you.

“Use me, baby,” she repeats again, that sweat plea that’s going to be you’re undoing. She’s so, so needy, practically whining for more, for everything, for anything as long as it involves your cock and her.

You stand over her, cock at the ready, eyes on your next target, the natural stage for the grand finale, the pièce de resistance of this whole fucked up photoshoot—Somi’s breasts.

She follows your gaze, realises, “You want to fuck these tits, don’t you?”

You find your voice gravelly, deep. “Yeah.”

Somi giggles, hands at her chest, taking either side of her breasts, pushing them together with her palms and creating this gorgeous valley, just waiting for your cock. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to beg.”

Somi blinks. Once, twice. Sees the look on your face, sees how hard you are for her, how desperate you are to let go.

But she knows how much you need to hear it. Knows how much she wants to say it.

“Please. Baby, please. Fuck my tits. Cum all over me. I need it.” Somi’s licking her lips, massaging her breasts together, showing you just how soft they are, how ready they are for you. “I need to feel your cum on me. All over me. My face, my neck, my chest. Everywhere. Let me do this for you.”

That’s it.

You’re back on the couch, straddling her stomach. Knees on either side of her waist, cock between her tits. Soft, warm, inviting.

“Like this?”

“Yeah. Just like that,” you manage, each word a mountain of effort as you watch your cock disappear between her breasts.

It’s a gentle push, that’s all it takes, and Somi starts to move, making her tits jiggle around your dick, squeezing it from either side as you slide your cock up and down. So focused, eyes on your cock, then back to your face, studying your every reaction, waiting for that moment when you crack.

And it’s coming so soon, you’ve been teetering on the edge since Somi first walked in—fuck, on edge for thirty days—and now you’re hurtling towards the fall.

You’re not going to last, not when Somi’s got you like this. Her hands moving with you, her tits bouncing in time with your strokes. The cushioning of her breasts around you; this gentle, sweet, torturous pressure that has you grunting, has you smearing drops of yourself all over her chest.

“Fuck, you look so good between my tits. So hard. Doesn’t it feel right? Like this is where your cock fucking belongs. This is what my tits were made for. For you,” Somi’s whispering, stringing these words together like a spell. “You can go faster, baby, I won’t break. Just let go and use me like the slut I am.”

Pleading for it, so desperate for you. Sweet words, encouragement, filth, like a drug, pushing you close and closer to the brink.

Just obey, pump faster, fuck her tits quicker, watch as your cock slices through her cleavage, the gloss it leaves over her skin. See Somi, licking her lips, devouring you with her eyes, just waiting for you to join her on the other side of oblivion.

“Cum for me, baby. Please, please. I need it—I need to feel it—please!”

Her tongue stretches past her lips, flicking out to catch the tip of your cock, making you groan. Leaning in, breath hot on you, cock hitting her lips with every thrust, every drive through her tits. So fucking greedy, so eager to taste, so needy to be the one responsible for your total ruin.

“Oh, oh, oh, baby—yes—yes—yes—yes—”

She pinches her nipples, twists them just right, moans—

You feel it immediately—your balls tighten, your cock swells, and then—release.

Intense is the only way to describe it.

So fucking intense.

White hot jets of cum spurt out, firing everywhere, making a mess of her, coating her chest, her neck, her chin, her lips, her nose—splashing down all over her.

It’s a frenzy, a natural disaster, a hurricane that’s been building for one long fucking month, and now it’s here.

The way her eyes widen, the way her mouth opens, gasping for air, the way she shakes—she wanted this, but there’s no fucking way she was prepared for it.

And when you back up, she dives forward, hand seizing the base of your cock and pumps. Wrists twisting in this aching motion, winding up and down your cock, wringing you out until you’re just a slave to her fingers, her tits, her touch.

“Keep going, baby, keep cumming for me, give me everything,” she begs, sending shivers all the way from your shaft down to your spine as she works your cock.

You do, you have no choice, no say in the matter. You give her everything.

You're coming apart, torn from your own body in sticky, hot waves that leaves you absolutely breathless.

And she’s a fucking mess. All of her—her face, her neck, her tits. So beautiful covered in you. So utterly used. So utterly yours.

It takes a moment for the tremors to stop, for the world to come back into the focus. You sit there, panting, feeling like you’ve just done a triathlon and then climbed a mountain. Somi’s just smiling at you, looking at you through her lashes, glued together with your cum, her own little giggles escaping every now and again.

She looks like a dream.

“Fuck, Somi—”

“Mm?” She looks so content, so at peace with the universe. Wearing your cum like fine jewellery. As if she’s the one that just had the best orgasm of her life.

“You’re—” But what the fuck do you say? That she’s ruined you? That she’s shattered your world? That you’ll never be able to look at a camera again without thinking of her?

Ah.

That’s what you’ll do.

You lean down, pick the camera off the floor, and then—snap.

Somi, looking so sloppy and obscene. Looking like everything you never knew you needed. Looking like she belongs to you.

She wipes away at her eyes, collects the cum on her finger, before dipping it into her mouth. Sucking, tasting the flavour of your need.

“Get the shot you wanted?”

You let out a long, heavy exhale, sliding off the couch, off her, sitting on the floor next to her. Resting your head on her thighs while Somi just lies there, sprawled out, utterly wrecked.

“You weren’t kidding,” she says. “One whole month.”

You remember to inhale. “Thirty days.”

She’s fighting a losing battle, cleaning the endless fountain of cum you’ve covered her with. Looking like she just streaked through a fucking snowstorm.

But she tries, collects as much as she can, smearing it into a sticky mess. Playing with it on her fingers, rolling it around her tongue, enjoying this way too much.

You raise the camera, aim it at her. The way she’s looking at you, the way her hand moves, so fucking casual—like it's her natural state of being. Making you believe that Somi should be covered in cum, all the time. It's only right.

You just can’t help yourself. You click.

“I haven’t been fucked like that since,” Somi starts, clearly not minding being the subject of your post-coital art. “Since ever. That was—"

“A trainwreck,” you’re saying, and then finishing when you catch the look on her face, “Not like that. It was insane. Intense. Really, thirty days or not, it was fucking life changing.”

Somi smiles. “Good to know I didn’t disappoint.”

“Just. These photos. Completely unsalvageable. None of that can be sent to your agency.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Somi says, so easily, so carefree, as if she didn’t just obliterate every single professional boundary you’ve ever set. “Let me have a look. There must be some photos at the start that are useable. From before you… lost focus.”

You pass her the camera, let her scroll through the shots, see all the pornographic filth the two of you have created. She flicks through, each click another photo, another reminder of what you’ve done, what she’s done to you.

And she’s enjoying it. These little smirks, the nods of approval. Fascinated by these photos of her, of her body in these stages of ecstasy.

“Ah, yup. No. Nope. Definitely not. Oh, and that one is just… yeah.” Somi’s voice is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of awe in it. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“It’s what you do to me.”

“I can see that,” she says, continuing until she gets to the last of the photos. “That’s pretty fucked. These are pretty fucked up. But, like. Beautifully fucked up.”

“Thanks,” you say, throwing your hands up, letting one fall on Somi’s thigh. It rests there, draws a circle over the smooth warm, skin.

It’s a good feeling. Having her here, like this. So relaxed, so comfortable. Knowing her in the most intimate ways possible, yet still not knowing much about her at all.

She sighs when your hand moves higher. You throb.

Yeah. After thirty days, only one time is not going to be nearly enough.

You already want to dive back into the land of debauchery with Somi, bring up more of those repressed fantasies you’ve been waiting to realise, even though you’re still knee-deep in the aftermath of the first round.

It’s in Somi’s eyes as well, you can feel it in the air, from the heat radiating off her skin—she's not done with you either.

Far from it.

You're going to ruin her again. You're certain of it.

“So,” she says, making a show of cupping her tits, raising them up to her mouth. Licking them clean.

Your response is swift. Immediate. “We’re going to have to reschedule.”

Somi’s laughter is pure gold. “How does thirty days from now sound?”

You blink. Stare at her, unamused.

She raises your camera.

Snap!

[starridge]

blehhhh long-ass factory settings au summary/ramble bc someone asked for more info so ermmmmmmmmm ya.....

there's some stuff not in here cuz i wanna make comics abt it but this is the general gist.....

**This is going off the hc that time works differently in the dark world, in reference to Ralsei’s lines about it being forever since Kris and Susie were there in ch2 (I KNOW ITS A JOKE BUT it gives everything more breathing room ok.)

Ralsei, helping Susie find Tenna in TV World, loses the Dealmakers without realizing. After finding and repairing Tenna, the fountain is sealed, unknowingly leaving Spamton behind. Somehow, something in the darkness makes sure they end up where they need to be, but not without some accidental repercussions. I’ve just been saying it’s Gastery/depths shit and calling it a day.

The Dealmakers sit outside Castle Town, alone at the bottom of the purple cliffs. When Spamton takes form again, he’s been “reset”-- his appearance looks like that of a normal (albeit short) Addison, and he can’t remember anything beyond his basic function as an Addison; He is a darkner, an email Addison named “Spamton”. He is from Cyber City. There are other Addisons, all they do is advertise.

Confused by his decidedly non-Cyber City surroundings, he makes his way into Castle Town, finding the Addisons by their makeshift storefront in the training grounds. He tries to strike up casual conversation, hoping for answers, but is met with terrified confusion from his fellow Addisons.

The Addisons, meanwhile, have been ignoring the elephant in the room since they told Kris about their old friend in the Trash Zone. They’ve been keeping an eye out for Spamton ever since their arrival in Castle Town, all quietly hoping he’ll turn up somehow, hoping he wasn’t left behind, but not vocalizing it. Never discussing it.

They’re woefully unprepared for when Spamton actually shows up, looking (almost) like how they remember before it all went wrong, acting like he’s never met them before. Reasonably freaked out, they try to find Ralsei, who’s busy setting up rooms for the arrivals coming in the morning. Instead, the Addisons question Spamton cautiously, seeing if he’s mad at them, why he’s acting like he doesn’t know them… 

Eventually, they come to the conclusion that he really, genuinely doesn’t remember them at all. Well, they can’t really be mad at someone who doesn’t exist anymore, and if he doesn’t remember them, he can’t hold it against them for abandoning him after making it big. After all, he doesn’t even remember making it big. So, with a twinge of guilt, they let him set up “shop” with the rest of them, ignoring everything that happened the best they can. The Addisons explain that Spamton knows them, they think he’s lost his memory somehow, and they used to be friends until they drifted apart– conveniently keeping their explanation vague to obfuscate any blame. (It’s not so much reconciliation as their way of absolving themselves of guilt and pretending they’re better for it).

Spamton takes time to poke around Castle Town, all the while gathering that whoever he was before… Was not particularly well-liked. Trying to enter the cafe leads to the Addisons having a hushed conversation with Swatch, then a sympathetic, if not a bit confused, look in his direction; a pattern that seems to continue wherever he goes. He know’s there’s something going on no one’s telling him, but if whoever he was before was hated that much, does he want to know?

When Susie bursts into Castle Town sometime later, panicked and followed closely by an entourage of TV World darkners, the group of Addisons are quick to check out the commotion. Amidst the chaos, the old, waterlogged CRT catches Spamton’s eye. He calls Tenna hot and they freak out and tell him he can’t get back with his ex. But Spamton doesn’t even know the guy so why not shoot his shot.

Once Tenna is given some time to recover, Ralsei takes him on a tour of Castle Town. When they hear Tenna approaching, the Addisons try to hide Spamton, but are too engrossed in pitching their products to the pair to keep an eye on him for long. With that, Spamton slips off.

Headed back to the castle alone, Tenna is met face to face with. Spamton. Not the wrong, broken Spamton he saw in the closet, not even the Spamton who left him after that fateful phone call, but one he never knew, one from before he was a big shot. Still, he knows his old partner.

Tenna clearly takes this very, very well and does not freak out at all.

I’m not sure abt interactions after this but I think there’s a lot of push and pull between Spamton and Tenna.  Tenna wants so badly to be mad at Spamton, to resent him, tell him he doesn’t deserve his presence after leaving. But he also can’t fully blame someone who doesn’t even know they did anything wrong. He tries to keep him at a distance so he can’t be hurt, but staying away is so hard. It’s the kind of thing where he keeps hurting himself because he can’t stop himself.

Spamton is equally haunted because he deserves it I hate him so much. Tenna is a stranger who’s being so resentful towards him in a way none of the other darkners in Castle Town are. He should just accept that and move on, ignore Tenna, take the loss. Like Tenna, though, he can’t. He’s weirdly drawn to this person who hates him so, so much, and he feels bad in his chest in a way he can’t place. Not guilt, not shame, but bad, cold. He’s frustrated being unfairly blamed for something he never did, made to face the consequences of actions he never committed. Worse, he’s haunted by voices he shouldn’t know coming through his speech. Commercials with his voice, with Tenna’s voice. And there’s something so compelling about the way Tenna talks about what they had…. 

Misc Rambling Section xx

Tenna doesn’t go to Mettaton (yet?). This AU follows the Chapter 4 events wherein Kris never goes to Castle Town before the church dark world, and Susie saves Tenna from the rain instead. Tenna’s kinda fucked up emotionally from being thrown out and left in the rain after being promised he wouldn’t be abandoned again.

Spamton is visually a normal Addison again, but wearing the same clothes he wore before being “reset”. He still has his dialogue quirks (personally I think he just says them cuz he’s a spam email but that’s not really important to the AU), and will occasionally recycle old bits of dialogue he shouldn’t be able to know if he was truly reset. Between that and his weird feelings around Tenna (and occasionally, anyone else who’s wronged him, but it’s strongest around Tenna), it’s clear there’s some ghost of his old coding left behind. The first time Tenna hears Spamton pull out a line only pre-reset Spamton would know he freaks out and thinks Spamton might be lying about not remembering anything.

Lowkey though Spamton would lead Tenna on to try and get answers at some point and Tenna would have a fucking breakdown bc Spamton just can’t change can he??

One of the other Addisons will prob come onto Tenna at one point and Spamton will lose his mind a little bc he doesn’t wanna be with Tenna but that doesn’t mean they get to

Spamton eventually learns that the Addisons aren’t being entirely truthful about their past with him, that they somehow wronged him, and will also have a fucking breakdown.

TL;DR Spamton and Tenna torture each other bc they’re exes who cannot stay away from each other and blame each other for everything wrong ever

(IDK if Spamton can or would get his memories back I’ll probably draw stuff with both eventually. Whatever makes your heart happy.)

[karaeilish]

hi! could u write y/n calling billie another girls name while making out to prank her, but billie gets all possesive and fucks her dumb with the strap telling her to scream her name

⌗ WRONG, SLUT ━━ b. eilish

꩜ pairing & au :: fuckboy!billie x fem!reader

꩜ GENRE :: smut .

꩜ SYNOPSIS :: you need to be careful with pranking your girlfriend. especially when she knows how to tie tight knots. . .

꩜ WARNINGS :: smut . degradation . strap (r receiving) . mean!billie . tying up . rough sex . brat!reader . bil slapping r . red flag (?) billie . ꩜ WORD COUNT :: 1,5k

꩜ A/N — PLEASE . don’t copy & steal my works AND my layouts . m doing everything by myself and m not giving you any rights 🤍

billie was an absolute piece of shit. always. no matter how much you said 'i can fix her', no matter how much you tried to explain to her while she was high or drunk, nothing worked. every attempt was in vain, every time she would hang around other girls, courting them as if she could find someone better, more beautiful or more interesting than you. you both knew the answer to that question, she just couldn't get rid of the desire to own everyone, crawling to you on her knees the next day like a lost puppy. no matter how much she wanted it, you had no choice but to take her back, listening to her promises not to do it again.

and billie got used to your compliance, used to you always playing the 'good girl' and letting her do all the shit she does. she liked to have it all at once, everyone she wanted, while having you by her side, always forgiving. always too lenient with her. but no nerves are made of steel. at some point you got tired of putting up with her shit. you just had to… teach her a lesson. there was no grand plan of revenge from action movies or anything like that in your head, just a harmless prank that you knew would make her flare up.

and despite her behavior, billie took you very seriously, even too seriously. you can't be too nice, too friendly, too talkative with some strangers and not only strangers. she was possessive, she was jealous, she claimed you in front of everyone, although she knew she had no right to it. she acted like a complete idiot and continued to be a fucking child, throwing tantrums every time your hand touched someone’s shoulder.

you argued, quarreled, broke dishes, screamed in an attempt to admit that your opinion was right, but her only fucking argument was always — 'you're fucking mine. no one dares touch you, think about you, desire you, is that clear, darling? i don't care what you want'

your knees just buckled, your tongue went numb, and your body fell back into her arms, onto her cock.

you were her weakness, and she was yours. it was an unbearable tight circle, but that gave you an advantage —you knew her weakest spot, you knew where to hit her hardest to get her mad, so…

"hey, brit, can you—" you don't have time to finish your sentence. billie's eyes are instantly torn from the screen of her phone, her attention completely on you. you can almost feel her heart pounding in her chest.

“what did you just say?” her gaze could almost burn through your skin with its intensity. almost. you look at her so innocently it makes her teeth ache. trying to play the part.

“what? i was gonna ask you to get me some water.” you keep a calm face, raising one eyebrow as if you have no idea what caused her to react so strongly.

“don’t play with me, baby.” billie leans closer to you, squinting, her blue eyes darkening, reminding you of the depths of the pacific ocean. her fingers touch your chin, not squeezing, just letting you feel the pressure of her presence. “y'know that’s not my name.”

you laugh, pulling away from her demonstratively; trying to press even harder.

“since when ‘billie’ isn’t your name? go get your ears cleaned if you can't hear well" the words fall like sticky venom from your lips, accompanied by a caustic wink as you stand up from the couch, throwing your hair back dramatically. as soon as your feet hit the floor, billie is in front of you with inhuman speed, intercepting your hand, thick fingers squeezing your wrist with enough force that you feel her cold rings digging into your skin.

"fine, you want to be a brat? i'll treat you like one" she hisses somewhere against your cheek, her hot breath igniting a raging fire inside you.

"what's wrong with you, brit, i was just—" a lightning-fast slap cuts through the air, landing painfully on your cheek. nothing really cruel, but it quickly made you shut your mouth.

billie doesn't say a word. her nails dug into your wrist as she broke and pulled you towards the bedroom, not particularly gentle as she tossed you onto the large, soft bed. her glance gave you enough reason not to try and question it as she rummaged through the nightstand, and somehow, you knew immediately what she was looking for.

the strap landed on the bed. deep red, huge, thick, veins drawn along its enticing length. it was the largest in your ‘modest’ collection. all the words choked in your throat, remaining buried in your head.

“turn over. on your stomach.” when billie spoke in that tone, the only thing you could understand was that she wasn’t asking. she was commanding. this was not the moment to try to piss her off even more, but she deserved it. deserved to be mad at you, deserved to feel like she wasn’t the only woman in your life. you stay still. silent. sitting and looking at her.

billie meets your gaze. wild. the rope in her hands can tell you so much more than any words. and no matter how much you don’t want it, her strength is several times greater than yours.

she throws heather next to her, her calloused hands wrap around your waist, with a sharp movement turning you over onto your stomach. you resist, trying to turn over, but the force with which she holds you…

"lie still, slut. you wanted this, didn't you? no point in denying it now" her rough voice suddenly touches your ear, teeth grazing over sensitive skin. "say 'no' and i'll stop"

you remain silent.

she acts.

"that's what i thought" billie grins. grins because she knew for a fact that sometimes you wanted nothing more than her cock buried in your greedy cunt until you had her fucking baby.

the thick rope seems like the perfect weapon in her hands as she wraps a section around the headboard, then roughly grabs your hands one by one and ties them so tightly you want to cry.

"you have nowhere to run, princess" her hands are now on your stomach, forcing you to lift your torso off the bed, giving her a perfect view of your ass in those damn short shorts that was in the corner of the room in seconds. along with your soaking wet panties.

"fuck, are you wet already? after i slapped you, mm?" her palm lands on your ass with a loud slap, making you scream loudly, pulling the ropes until it hurts pleasantly. "or after i took you by force, like a cheap whore?"

all the existing billie right now is leaking poison, contempt, anger, which can only be cured in one way. by destroying you and your angelic body.

you whine, pouting, as if that can somehow help in your situation. as if something will save you from her wrath. no. from behind you you hear the sounds of a belt unbuckling, of it coming out of all its loops, falling onto the bed. billie unbuttons her baggy jeans, not even taking them off all the way. just pushes her boxers down, deftly securing the strap to her hips.

"time to learn to spell my name, doll" she spits on her hand, smearing it all over her cock, moaning so sweetly that you can almost believe that she feels it.

a hand on your throat, squeezing, choking, while she pushes into you, almost gently, giving you half a second to get used to her size. your pussy stretches around her thick strap, mouth opening, letting the long-awaited moans fly from your lips.

"so who's this slut whose name are you calling me by?" her hips suddenly start moving, not letting you get used to her pace, which within seconds had the headboard slamming against the wall. her hips slapped against yours, her fingers tightening around your throat.

"answer me, bitch" billie slaps you again, alternating them with cutting off your oxygen.

you struggle, you wanna make her suffer and wonder, like you did, but she's too, too deep in your tummy for you to even try to resist.

"n—nobody! just you!" there was barely a shred of self-respect left in your voice, the tip of her strap hitting your cervix with every damn thrust. billie smirks. of course, you're too loyal to look at anyone but her.

"just me, doll?" pause. long, painful. "then scream my name like an obedient little slut"

you whine. this is too much. she's too big inside you. you can't resist anymore.

"billie…!"

"louder"

"billie!"

♱ tags; @billiesbabygirll, @amara-eilish, @st0nerlesb0, @bxllxebxtch @mystiquemm, @bilswifee, @dragoneyelashart, @bilssturns, @chrissv4mp, @allyeilishh, @bitchesbrokenpromises, @too-sapphic-to-function, @thefeverburningalive, @peytonglazesbillieeilish, @1nn3rthOughts, @thebluediner, @xiletay, @eilishsfantasy, @ariieeesworld, @peytonneilish, @clairrehwart, @emi-inspace, @ilomilobabyy, @aka-persephone, @hanoxoxo

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 2, Part 1

masterpost - this is just a first draft, please no editing or concrit! I have had a migraine for over a week now (。﹏ 。)

“Are you even sure that they’re here with us now?” Mina asked as she shuffled her tarot cards almost absentmindedly.

Mina was taking Danny’s request apparently very seriously. They had moved from the cozy kitchen into the appropriately mysterious reading room. Mina sat in her navy blue, wingback chair. Danny stood next to the more demure guest chair at the table. The candles were even lit.

He picked up on of the coins scratched with odd symbols and turned it over in his fingers. He knew that Mina would use them as oracle coins with her cards, a way to add more depth to what was being told, but they were basically a complete mystery to him.

Danny set the coin back down. “They’re here. I think they feel bad for the seizure so they’ve been sticking close. There’s this… you know old monitors and screens? The big chunky ones. If you got close to them you could basically feel the static electricity coming off of them? That’s what their presence feels like to me.”

“Oh, huh. The cards can sometimes feel that way to me when I’m picking them,” Mina said. Her head was tilted thoughtfully, her eyes just slightly absent. “I wonder if they’re less ghost and more magic. Or if they were magic when they were alive? Magic of course being used loosely here for a variety of otherwordly and arcane forces.”

“Maybe,” Danny agreed with a helpless little shrug. “Like I’ve said, they don’t feel like a normal ghost, but if they’re not a ghost I don’t know why they came to me. Someone like you would be better at helping them if they’re magic and not dead.”

“On the surface, sure, but like, you don’t feel like a ‘normal’—” Mina made airquotes with her fingers around the word normal. “—human yourself.”

“Say what now?”

“Well you don’t!” Mina finally set the cards down so that she could motion freely as she talked. “It’s not something that the average person is going to pick up on, but to an adapt like me you also feel like you’re an adapt or something. Heck, I bet that you’ve met some people that you just weird out for no real reason you can tell. That’s the otherness.”

Well, she was right, he had freaked people out before, but he had always thought that was just a bad day and his ghostliness was bleeding through a little or something. He wasn’t magic.

“Now sit down,” Mina said.

Danny blinked. “I’m not who you’re reading.”

“No, but I can’t read them, so I’ll have to read them through you,” Mina explained like it was the most obviously thing.

It was best just to trust Mina, Danny figured, and took the seat across from her. Immediately, Hubris jumped up in Danny’s lap and nudged at his fingers for a pet. Mina stacked the deck straight and slid it over.

“Shuffle these for me. Don’t try to focus inside or on a question or anything, just focus on them.”

“Them as in them and not them as in the cards, right?”

Mina rolled her eyes. “Yes, Danny.”

“Look, I’m just making sure! I don’t do magic,” Danny said as he started to shuffle. It was a little hard to do so, what with Hubris trying to bat the cards away, but Danny did his very best to focus on the ghost. He thought about how it felt to interact with them. What they looked like. What the echo of their nearly there voice sounded like.

The tags on Hubris’ collar zapped Danny with a sudden zap of static electricity and Danny put down the deck to shake his hand out. Mina snapped them up as soon as he did. He guessed he was done shuffling.

“Ghost friend,” Mina called out. (Danny thought the ‘friend’ bit was generous.) “If you can hear me, focus on what got you in this mess.”

Danny leaned forward to try, as always, to see if he could sense something from Mina as she cut the cards, fanned out several on the table in front of her, and ran her fingers along them. As always, he didn’t see a damn thing about what made her pick the card she did.

Mina gave the sort of sucked in breath that pulled her bottom lip into her teeth as she flipped over the first card. It was the Tower. The bricks detailed by gold foil outlines that paled in comparison to the large lightning bolt striking it.

“Not good?” Danny asked.

“Very not good. You know how Death isn’t actually a card to fear?”

Danny nodded.

Mina tapped the card. “This is the card to fear.”

“Huh. Damn.”

[rotagnus]

situations, feelings. . . [pick-a-pile!]

an in-depth reading about feelings surrounding a situation, a person, etc. pick a pile per each situation/person you're asking about; general reading, with some specifics. i may put more readings up soon, may not!! but i hope that all of you have been doing well. apologies for the little hiatus; some personal things came up and overall my life is changing dramatically (positively :) ) so i have been trying to be less online.

pile 1 - buttons.

whatever this is has you acting differently. not necessarily in a bad way, but with the card polarity falling out, i think that it's showing a different side of you than you usually like showing to others. most of the time you're probably put-together and guarded; i'm getting that you guys like putting on an artificial costume for others because the real you is someone you see as sacred, tender, and easy to hurt. you can be the kind of person who has slightly crude humor, the person who seems to push others away; wry and sarcastic, or maybe you're simply cold and people feel like they can't get through to you. whatever this situation or person is, they're forcing you to grow and change. with the magician and seven of cups, a lot of the things you've manifested consciously and unconsciously are coming up. this can be good things coming, or bad things, depending on how you've been thinking recently. surprises are significant, i'm hearing. you also may have been feeling weirdly open recently...the same feeling when you do something deeply vulnerable or authentic in front of someone and they give you a soft reaction and you feel all wriggly inside, if that makes sense. the lesson that this person/situation will end up teaching you is to stop viewing things with such an analytical lens. you possess this strength in you; you wield a sword in both hands, and you fight for your people, you fight for your morals. but this leaves you with very little room to be soft, and i know that deep down, no matter how hard you push people and good things away, you still crave them, and a part of you hopes that they do come to you because you deserve them, not because they're a trick. if this is a person you're asking about, you may be blaming the universe because they also seem different...maybe too good, as well. the whole situation is different to what you've experienced before, and you're very tentative. i heard the word 'sapling', so in the relative time scheme of the universe, many of you may be souls who love to reincarnate and come back to earth (if that is something you believe in)...experiences are very valuable to you, but you're also very closed-off while craving that connection. at the end, this person/situation will bring you a security that lets you be settled within yourself even if the situation or person is without you, temporarily, or permanently. many of you have this mindset of needing a certain thing or someone to be comfortable by yourself, but this is the universe showing you that you are more than enough for yourself. a lot of you may be panicking, reading this; 'oh no, this thing is gonna disappear!' but my whole point is that by the end, you'll be secure enough, most likely WITH whatever you're afraid of losing. if not, the cycle will keep repeating. take care, my love; keep hydrated, and remember that you are beyond treasured.

signs: green eyes. black animals. duality. armchairs. brushes. eastern religions. prayer. television. lines. branches. coconut.

pile 2 - creativity.

a lot of the major arcana fell out with this one. the hanged man, the chariot. also awakening from a different deck. what i'm understanding is that this is either the dead things from an old phase that you just finished, or a beginning, so i'll do my best to explain both versions, so you can decide if this applies to you ! :)). so for number one, i think that the first part of you are carrying grief from something ending, and while you know that this is dead and gone, you still hold onto it with the fear of not finding something better. this may have been someone LITERALLY disappearing from your life; ghosting you, moving, a break-up, death, etc. or it could have been a metaphorical movement...growing distant, growing apart. many of you are clever people, and you know that this was simply a lesson, if it wasn't it wouldn't have felt like it was coming to an end. but a lot of you are scared to move onto something new, and you're clenching this corpse in between your hands. for the second part of you, this is something new, that seems better than before. and the card discernment fell out, so a lot of you are being quiet about this. you don't wanna scare it off; it's like a baby animal, and you're just observing it without coming closer. the last phase of your life left you tired, and you're just hesitant to do anything more than observe. a lot of you asked about a specific person, i think. there's this whole melancholy vibe i'm getting...a song that popped up is 'i'll see you when we're both not so emotional' so i think that a lot of you did have strong ties to this person, and it felt like a part of you disappeared when they did. it was a painful, raw ending, and a part of you might have wanted revenge, might have wanted to show them that they hurt you so deeply, because to them it seems like they didn't care that much. but this is me telling you that wayyy better things are in the future, because now you're equipped to hold more instead of messes that were NEVERRR yours to fix. you are...genuine? yes. kind? yes. reliable? yes. but the past few years, all of these traits have soured and you overdo things as a way to escape the fact that you feel like you can't be loved simply by existing. so that's something that'll come to the next phase of your life. and another thing, whatever fell away, it's a good thing. you don't need it as badly as you think you do. the other situation/person did, and just because you're deeply empathetic and can understand that, doesn't mean you have to go back. you don't always have to stay in tragedies. for those of you who are like '...i didn't lose anything'. this could be more metaphorical. innocence. movement. something going away. and the same thing applies to you, not to cling onto the past, and to look forward; way better things are coming, and now you have the hands to hold them.

signs: red roses. dreams about falling. crescent moon. something breaking; plates, glass. led lights. striped cats. highways.

pile 3 - bed.

the way that you guys are deeply loyal reminds me of dogs who care for their owners long after that person has betrayed them...stop giving your all to someone who keeps disappointing and hurting you, and someone who could live without you. this message may not apply to you; just some in this pile. anyways...onto the actual reading. a lot of you feel like everything is finally coming together. alignment, though it may not be what you thought you'd get when you imagined your dream life. loss has happened. but so has gain. right now, you guys are stepping into such powerful energy, and everyone can see it. it's like you molted; and now you shine brightly. 'the sun', 'the goddess', 'the emperor'...so yeah. you ARE all that. you got that confidence recently for a reason!! however, a lot of you feel alone. staring at everyone else forming connections, finding their partners...especially with the summer being here and all those mushy gushy romantic things trending. and your hope is wavering, with this situation, this person. however, seven of wands - KEEP THAT HOPE!!! don't lose it. keep it until you can't, and i know y'all can keep it forever. whatever it is that you want, it takes time. and you don't wanna rush it. and a lot of you also feel insecure; like you don't deserve it. but both 'the sun' and 'the star' fell out, and on the star, a woman is looking at it. so how i interpret it is that you think something is far above you 'cause it's a star, but you are the SUN. which is also a star. which means y'all are on the same damn level. so don't be insecure. i know it's way easier said than done, and i know you guys are ACTIVELY WORKING ON IT (woo! i am very proud of you), but this is just a reminder. you guys are actively progressing towards this thing...and while it may not end up as quickly as you want it, or in the exact way you want it, you will still end up feeling the fulfillment you imagined you would at the end. however, a lot of you have something going on that you know is not right for you, and is a grave that you could fall into...this is your sign to say no to that. you know it's a pattern that you'd fall into, maybe generational. SAY NOOOO. this new thing and this thing, they're different, and in your gut, you know that you have to choose the previous one. you can't fall back into old patterns. they're very hard to rework. you got this. by the way, you are wayyy more lovable than you think. you can be loved in every way you dream of. okay byebye!!

signs: cds. mousy. angry men. shakespeare. silver necklaces. fences. butterflies. radiohead. veins. pictures.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Trying**

Based off of the following request where Y/N is desperate for Harry to breed her already!

Warnings: breeding kink, objectification (female to male), sex (p in v), oral sex (fem receiving), cum play, breast play, dirty talk, cnc kink, free use kink, daddy kink

WC: 6.8K

When you met Harry it was the summer of the start of your masters program. You were brand new to town and had taken the recommendation of a few of the students from the previous cohort about some good, local spots you needed to visit. One of these places happened to be a brewery in the heart of the Arts District in Downtown LA, Styles’ Brewing Co.. You’d moved down to LA one month before the semester at USC started and you hadn’t really made friends yet so you decided to just go and check the place out. Worse case scenario you didn’t meet anyone cool and just enjoy the pleasure of your own company. It was a Tuesday evening when you’d strolled in. The sun was setting soon and despite the slight breeze, it was still quite hot so you were glad you’d decided on wearing a dress. And when you got up to the business, you smiled at the funky, little bar. The decor inside was like 70’s post modern theme, it instantly put a smile on your face. It was nice and cool inside and Al Green was playing over the speakers. There were a handful of people in there already, so you glanced around as you walked up to the register and looked up to the menu.

“Welcome in! If you have any questions about our selection, let me know.” The smooth British voice offered and your eyes glanced down and met the prettiest set of green eyes you’d ever seen.

“Ummm, actually s’my first time here.” You explained and his smile widened, revealing his teeth, the way his two front teeth extended a bit lower than their neighbors gave him a boyish charm though he was clearly older than you. He looked really good though, he had to be like five or six years older.

“Well that’s great! I’m Harry.” He greeted you cheerfully.

“Hello, I’m Y/N.” You said with a friendly smile.

“Well Y/N, are you a beer drinker?”

“Kinda…not really. Sorry.” You confessed a bit bashfully.

“That’s alright.” He chuckled, “Just seeing where you’re at with beer.” He assured you, “I know we have quite a large selection up there. So if you’re not sure where to start or what you might like, we can talk little bit more about your taste and I can give you a little flight of samples so that you can narrow down your options.” He offered and you were pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you!” You smiled, “That’d be great because I am a little out of my depth here. And honestly, I can pay.” You assured him. Just then someone else walked up behind you in the line and he looked past you.

“Hey, H!” One of the person’s behind you greeted him cheerfully and he smiled.

“Hey, guys.”

“Ummm, you can help them first since I’m still figuring it out.”

“That’s kind of you.” He smiled, “Have a seat at the bar and I’ll be with you in just a minute.” He instructed and you nodded and did just that. 

After a couple of minutes he was chatting with you again, asking about what you liked and disliked about beer. What kinds of flavor profiles you gravitated towards, and things of that nature before he pulled the samples for you. He talked you through each one, he even swapped two of them out upon receiving your feedback on the previous ones until finally you found the one. It was the “Sippin’ Pretty”, a guava and elderberry sour. It smelled amazing and tasted even better. When he realized that you were there alone he spent most of his time hanging around, checking in on you. It got a little busier around 8 o’clock, but you were on your second beer by then and just people watching as Harry and another person tended to the customers. Before you knew it you were having your third beer and feeling pretty tipsy. You were giggling at a story Harry was telling you about his friend’s two year old son and nearly knocked over your glass.

“Okay, I’m pretty fucked up.” You giggled again.

“Did you drive?” He asked.

“Yeah…I didn’t plan on being here for more than two hours.” You said and he smiled.

“Let’s get some food in you then. How do sweet potato fries sound?”

“Like the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You said and he chuckled. 

“Alright, I’m gonna put an order in.” He said before hurrying over to the POS system.

You did sober up quite a bit after eating and having a glass of water and you needed to go, you’d been taking a lot of time away from Harry. You flagged him down and he came over to you quickly.

“Thank you for the VIP treatment tonight, Harry. I didn’t know I needed that.” You smiled and he smiled back.

“I’m glad you had a nice visit. Hopefully one of many more?” He inquired.

“Definitely.” You assured with a blissful grin, “I should get out of your hair though, so can I get the bill?” You asked.

“You’re good, love.” He smiled and you pouted.

“Don’t do that. You’ve done so much already, the least I could do is pay.” You insisted, “Besides, wouldn’t want you to get in trouble by comping that much.” You added and he smiled.

“Well, I’m actually the owner so…” He responded smugly and you tutted.

“Well, I believe you’ve just lost your case.” You grinned.

“How’s that?” He asked, perplexed.

“You’re a small business owner, the backbone of the local economy! If the roles were reversed I know there is no way you wouldn’t insist on paying.” You said and he smiled. “Please, Harry.” You insisted.

“Fine. But I’m applying the 15% employee discount.” He said and you grinned as he headed off to the register without allowing you another word in edgewise. You hopped off your seat and went over to the register and paid, giving the 15% back in tip which made him tut as you giggled.

“Thank you, again!” You called as you walked to the door and he smiled and waved as you headed out.

********************

By the end of your first semester, you’d become a regular at the brewery. You had become pretty good friends with Harry. You’d learned that he was 34, so 12 years older than you were. You learned that he’d been engaged but that it ended nearly five years ago. He’d earned a degree in computer science and he’d made a pretty penny when he helped develop some AI program and had sold it and had made a large sum of money from that. So he moved down from the Silicone valley fours years ago to open up this place and it was almost an instant success. He was fucking cool. You had a huge crush on him. Not only was he handsome but he was sweet as can be. 

When he learned that you couldn’t afford to fly home for the holidays, he invited you to his and his friends’ holiday party. And well, on Christmas everything between the two of you changed. Thanks to a very eye-opening kiss under the mistletoe, if you could believe it. He dropped you off at home after the little get-together and as you were saying goodbye you kissed him again and that led to you two making out for half an hour before you finally pulled apart.

“Let me take you out.” He panted before kissing your cheek and you smiled and nodded.

“Yeah.” You agreed with excitement lighting up your eyes. You really liked him, you sincerely thought he didn’t think of you in that way. Particularly because of his age, because in terms of interests and tastes, you had plenty of things in common. Regardless, you were so relieved that he was also into you.

And after that first date, things quickly heated up between the two of you. Despite how great of a catch Harry was, he hadn’t really had tons of dating experience, he’d only had two long-term partners. One during his entire time in high school and the other after he moved to the U.S., the one who he had been engaged with. And they ended things when he resigned from the job in the Silicone Valley. You on the other hand had lots of flings and little things here and there. You were a little reckless with your heart, probably the hedonist in you. But when you and Harry started talking more in depth about where your relationship would go, you learned that he only dated someone when he felt that he could develop big feelings for the person. He was cautious about who he gave his time, affection, and heart to. The fact that he was the way he was - attentive, caring, mature, stable, and wise - well, you started to fall in love with him quickly. 

Your relationship with Harry became serious quite fast, but he insisted that you two wait until you graduated to make moves towards merging your lives even more. He proposed to you over dinner the night before your graduation with your parents and siblings there for it. A few weeks after graduation you moved into his house. The time you didn’t spend together or working, was spent planning the wedding. A year later, you two were married and just relishing in your new life together. 

….THREE YEARS LATER….

You and Harry had now been married for three extraordinary years. It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but most of the time it was. By now, most of your friends were married too but the biggest difference was that they were already on the baby train. One of your good friends got married because she’d gotten pregnant and the other two had their first kids just a year apart from each other. At first, Harry had baby fever far more than you did but lately there was just something in the air that had you feeling absolutely feral for him. To put it more poetically, you had a need to breed. You were feeling horny every time you were around him. 

Maybe it was the weather that was finally heating up? Or the fact that along with that, Harry would wear more t-shirts at the brewery. You’d get to see him lugging big, heavy boxes of produce or crates of glassware to and from the kitchen and bar, meaning he was constantly showing off his strength. He was so smart and strong and capable, and he was the best husband and partner to you. He gave you everything you wanted and more! So you knew that he could give you the most beautiful babies in the world. And lately, the thought was just ever present. Everything about him had you swooning.

Even now, just the way he would try to reach his big hands into the glasses to dry them properly made your pussy flutter and swell with need. Why were his arms so fucking big? And why did the masskrug look so tiny in his hands? You swear you would soon start to drool if you had to watch him any longer.

“What?” He chuckled as you just watched him from the other side of the bar top.

“N-nothing. Just…watching you. And your…big hands. And big arms.” You smiled and his eyes flickered up to yours and he smirked as he recognized the lustful look in them.

“What about ‘em?”

“Nothing really…just, I don’t know, I’m suddenly very aware of how…strong you are. S’a little distracting.” You shrugged and he hummed.

“Distracting enough that you shouldn’t be the one doing the payroll?” He asked and you giggled.

“Babe, I was an art major…I never should’ve been doing your payroll to begin with.” You joked and he chuckled.

“That’s probably true.” He joked back with a playful little grin as he glanced back down at the glass he was drying.

“You know what I’ve been thinking?” You asked.

“What, my love?” He asked without pulling his eyes from his task.

“I think I’m ready to start trying for a baby.” You said far too nonchalantly. So much so that in response all you heard was the shattering of glass as the masskrug fell to the ground. “Oh shit!” You gasped, “Are you alright?” You asked him and he glanced up at you with a smile and nodded.

“Yeah, love. M’fine. Just…surprised me with that one.” He confessed and you bit your lip to suppress your smile as his eyes bore into yours.

“I’ll get the broom.” You said softly as you prepared to hop off of the stool.

“Hey! No, no, no…don’t scamper off just yet.” He called out, “You can’t just drop a bomb on me like that.” He said with a smirk. You felt your cheeks heating up as the blood rushed up to your face.

“I was going to come back…”

“You want to have a baby?” He asked, bringing the topic back to that.

“I mean…yeah. Of course!” You shrugged.

“What brought this on?” He asked.

“Well…lately I’ve just been really…horny. But it’s more than that… it’s like…I can’t get enough of you. I just want more of you. More of us.” You said and he smiled, “I think that you’d be an amazing father and the idea of you, all handsome and rugged like you are, just caring after such a perfect and tiny little thing…I don’t know, it’s just been doing things to me lately.” You explained and he was smirking smugly at you. “Don’t make fun.” You mumbled and he shook his head.

“Of course not, my love.” He assured you, “I’m just glad you’ve finally come around.” He said and you rolled your eyes. Considering you were the young one here, you wanted to wait so that you could enjoy your marriage for a bit and have time to get your lives together before starting on a family. “But how do I know you’re not gonna change your mind? I know that you wanted to enjoy us for a while before we considered starting a family.”

“Well, it’s been three years…we’ve traveled, your business has grown, I’ve had my own exhibit like I wanted to…” you pointed out, “I mean, trying means just that, trying. It could take a few attempts and I’m ready to start if you’re…you know, also ready for that.” You said with a placid smile.

“Yeah, okay.” He said with a boyish grin adorning his face. “Should we make an appointment with your doctor?”

“Mmm…I say we do it the old fashioned way.” You said with a suggestive tone and he chuckled, “Just…go at it every chance we get until we get lucky.” You shrugged and he chuckled.

“Baby, as lovely and tempting as that sounds, I have work.” He reminded you and you grinned.

“Well based on the numbers I’m seeing here, you can afford to hire someone else.” You added and he chuckled.

“That’s how bad you want it?”

“Yes.” You responded quickly and he smiled.

“Alright, my love. Your wish is my command.” He assured and you smirked, “Damn it…” he mumbled.

“What?” You asked with a small frown.

“Now I’m hard.” He admitted and you grinned. “Though…the thought of getting you pregnant always makes me hard so…” he chuckled.

“Then do something about it.” You taunted and he chuckled. “I’m serious.”

“Right now?” He asked and you shrugged.

“Seize the moment.” You smiled.

“Baby…” he said, looking quite tortured and you just smiled at him.

“Come here.” You said and he came around the bar. You twirled around in the stool when he was before you, “I stopped taking my birth control two weeks ago…” you informed enticingly.

“You did?” he asked as he leaned down and you grabbed his face and pulled him in for a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Mmhm.” You confirmed. “Please, fuck me.” You requested.

“Here?!” He chuckled nervously and you nodded.

“I’m your wife, yeah?” You asked and he nodded before pecking your lips again, “You vowed to have me for all the days of our life, did you not?” You asked with a soft and seductive tone.

“That not how it goes… but I did…” he hummed in amusement.

“Then have me. Anytime you want. Whenever, wherever we are until you do what we set out to do. I don’t even need to come. Just need you to come. Need you to come a lot inside of me.” You said in a low and sultry voice. He was nearly panting, his fingers digging into your thighs through the light fabric of your dress. “I love you. I need you. I need you so fucking bad.” You pleaded and next thing you knew your lips were meeting in a desperate and heated kiss as your hands shakily worked at the button and fly of his jeans. When you had them and his briefs low enough to let his erection spring free, he pushed your dress up and tore your underwear off before stuffing them into his pocket. “Get inside of me. Please!” You begged hungrily and he pulled you closer until his cock was sliding through your already hot and slippery folds.

“So fucking wet. Ready to get knocked up, aren’t you?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes.” You whispered and he kissed you again. “Do it, baby. Fuck me.” You panted. 

Without another warning he pushed against your entrance until your little hole stretched around his veiny, girthy cock. You gasped as he plunged deep inside of you on the first thrust, but you needed that. You needed him like this. Over and over, his cock rammed inside of you until you’d wince with how deep he was getting inside. It felt delicious. Your nails were digging into his big, bulging biceps as you moaned aloud without any care in the word. His deep, consistent grunts were perfectly timed with his thrusts, they made your head and tummy flutter with how deep they were. You were completely blissed out. Your skin was covered in goosebumps and your walls were fluttering and squeezing his cock deliciously. He was fighting to hold his need to come back, but then again, that’s what you wanted from him; his cum flooding your insides. Painting your insides with everything he had to give until he gave you a baby. Not just a baby, his baby. A product of all of the love you shared for each other.

Everything about him was everything you’d ever wanted. He was everything to you and having more of him in this way was something that you couldn’t even comprehend, you just needed it. It was instinctual to have more with someone who was so embedded into your mind, heart, and soul. What more was there to this often sad and destructive life than to make love and create more beauty to add to it?

“Fuck…I’m gonna come.” He groaned as he started to rub his thumb over your clit in swift little circles. Maybe you didn’t need to come, but he wanted you to. He needed to feel you spasming around his cock as he filled you up. When he heard your breath catch he smiled, “Come for me, baby. Come on my cock and I’ll give you what you want.” He panted and seconds later your legs were shaking around his hips as you thrust up to meet his deep and unforgiving plunges as you whimpered and whined as you came undone. Your sounds turned into weak little grunts that escaped your throat in perfect time with his thrusts until he was stopping deep inside of you. You could feel his cock twitching as he shot spurt after spurt of his sperm deep into you until he had nothing left to give. After he finished he kissed you deeply. “Did you mean that? Whenever I want?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, free use. I always want you, H.” You smiled, “Always need you.” You assured him as you caressed his face with the back of your hand.

“Okay, baby. But if you ever want me to stop or aren’t in the mood just say…hmmm…”

“Sour.” You suggested with a dopey smile, “After the first beer you served me.” You said and he chuckled. You weren’t always all sentimental like that, but he loved when you were.

“Alright, my love. Sours is our safe word.” He agreed before kissing your lips quickly. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up before Jeremy gets in. S’almost his shift.” He reminded and you giggled and pulled him down down for another kiss.

“Maybe delete the footage from this time frame.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course, but only after I save it…for memories, you know?” He said mischievously and you giggled. 

“I love you so much.” You hummed happily.

“I love you more, my love.” He whispered.

****************

After that first time at his brewery, there was hardly any stopping Harry. Like you’d asked before, he’d have you whenever he well pleased. It was far easier for him to picture you growing with his baby now. It didn’t matter to him that you were occupied, he’d just get your pants off or dress out of the way and plunge in and you were more than fine with that. It even happened a few times while you slept, you’d wake up with him hovering over you, sliding his cock between your spread legs. Much to his surprise, you were soaking wet about 80% of the time and when you weren’t it didn’t take much to have you dripping and begging for him to put it in. He hadn’t given much thought to the baby’s sex or even names, he just wanted a baby with you and he’d be more than pleased regardless. Like now...

You were being stirred awake by Harry turning you on your back and gently prodding into your entrance. You groaned a bit as he tried to push in a bit but you weren't wet enough for his sizable cock yet.

"Just give me minute." you mumbled.

"I want you now." he said and then you felt a warm wad of spit land over your pussy before he smeared his erection all over it and then sunk in with more ease, "There we are..." he hummed in approval as he got about halfway. He sighed in relief as your warm and tight walls started to slick up around him quickly. "Had a very pleasant dream of you showing me a positive test. Woke up so fucking hard." he panted through his thrusts and then smirked when you got even more wet for him.

"Fuck, it feels so good inside you, baby." he sighed and you moaned when he ground into you.

"A little harder, daddy." you whispered, voice still rough from sleep. He hummed and gave it to you a bit harder, the soft smacks of your bodies meeting grew a little louder. And he gradually started increasing his force until your headboard was thumping against the wall and you whined out, "T-too hard!" you whimpered and he brought a thumb to your clit.

"You know what to do if it's too much, baby." he said comfortingly. He knew you liked to get whiny every now and again. "You say "sour", right?" he asked and you nodded. "Use your words, my love." he encoruaged.

"I know." you added, "Just...a little slower, please?" you requested and those puppy-dog eyes absolutely melted him to the core. His stern demeanor softened and a little smile appeared on his mouth as he stopped and then leaned down to kiss your lips quickly.

"Okay, baby. Sorry, got a little excited over that dream." He hummed against your lips. He then started thrusting again, undulating his hips in a way that got him right up against your g-spot. "Like that?" he asked and you whimpered as he started to grind a bit harder.

"Yes, daddy! Like that..." you keened and he groaned lowly as your walls started to flutter around him seconds later. He started to rub on your clit again until you started to tremble. You choked on a moan as your orgasm started to build far too much for you to keep inside. "Oh baby, I'm...I'm gonna come!" you gasped.

"Go on, baby. Let me feel your drenching my cock. Get you ready for my cum." he panted, "Ready for me to put a baby in that pretty body of yours." your eyes rolled back and your back arched until your body just froze and your walls started to spasm as your orgasm washed over you. The gorgeous flutters of pleasure bloomed from your tummy and rippled through your body, making your legs twitch and for your finger nails to dig into Harry's thick, muscular thighs.

"Yes, baby. Yes!" he groaned as his own pleasure built up to a point of no return. His steady rhythm faltered as he grunted through three deep thrust until he was holding your hips tightly as he started to shoot his sperm deep in you. You loved how he praised you for taking it all.

And when the height of it passed he only pulled out to turn you onto your side and then spooned you only to thrust back in. He lightly shivered from the sensitivity, but he wanted all of his cum to stay inside. You pulled one of his hands up to your mouth and kissed the back of it before sighing happily.

"I'll always take care of you. You know that, right?" he asked and you nodded as you hummed, "You're everything to me." he said softly, "I already love you with everything in my being. Can't possibly imagine how much more it can grow for you once we have our baby." he said softly and you smiled.

"I think you'll love the baby the most." you whispered.

"I don't know...you're the one giving me the baby." he reasoned and you smiled. "But what I do know is that you're my whole life. I'm so fucking fortunate to have you to share this with. Love you." he hummed.

"Love you, H." you smiled.

"Want you to do something for me, baby." he added, "Gonna send you some stuff I was looking up earlier. Stuff to like prepare your body and increase your chances, you know? Give it a try?"

"Of course, baby." you agreed easily.

***************

On top of the things Harry had suggested to you, you had also been implementing your own measures to optimize your health enough to successfully conceive. You had made significant improvements to your diet and even started taking prenatal vitamins and teas that you hoped would help. And since Harry owned and worked at the brewery you asked him to please stop serving you alcohol, no matter how much you asked for it, so your taste-testing badge had been revoked. You were also getting more rest and even started exercising more with him. Incidentally, this was something that just made you more horny for him. Considering that exercise helped you produce endorphins you were in a far better mood and up for sex more than before. 

  Maybe it was a little indecorous of you, but you honestly enjoyed the dull ache that seemed to permanently reside between your legs as of late. You actually craved more of it, especially at times like these, when you watched him working out from across the gym while you just kept a moderate pace on the elliptical. He was making eye contact with you from the mirror with a subtle smile ignoring the other people who were very clearly ogling him as he did his deadlifts. You couldn’t blame them, Harry was a masterpiece of a human. He was tall, handsome, attractive, and good natured. The way his muscles tightened up as he worked through his routine made you hungry for him in sinful ways. So much so that you needed to go and fuck. Now.

You got off of the machine and went to grab a wipe to clean off the handles and buttons you’d touched before asking him to leave. He wouldn’t mind cutting his workout short, that’s what you’d be doing more of anyway if you really thought about it. You decided to gather your things from the locker in the bathroom and then head over to grab him. When you headed over to the free weights area you saw a girl trying to chat him up, he seemed a bit annoyed but was too polite to tell her to go away. It may have seemed he was fair game because he wasn’t wearing his wedding band right now (you always reminded him to take his ring off when he was lifting heavy because your wedding bands were made of gold, a soft metal, so it could easily get warped with the amount of weight he lifted), but he was all yours and you needed him now. His evident display of strength had you completely drenched in your underwear. You could feel the steady throb of your walls even as you walked over. You could see him glancing over to the cardio section through the mirror, probably searching  for you to help but you were just about to reach him.

“Baby!” You called out to him from a few feet away and he whipped around and his smile of relief made you smirk. He could see the hunger in your gaze from where he was. The girl that walked up to him looked mortified as she connected the dots before scurrying off. Harry quickly re-racked the weights he’d been using before setting the bar back in place and hurrying over to you. “I need you to get me home. Stat.” You said lowly as you walked through the gym and he chuckled.

“Alright, my love. Not a problem.” He hummed with a big, warm hand on your lower back.

In nearly twenty minutes you were carefully getting into the shower together, the foreplay was in how he talked to you and touched you as you got cleaned up. Everything was building up as he smoothed over your breasts with his soapy hands and talked about how big they’d get when he finally got you pregnant. Things like this that you never thought could rile you up were doing the job. You loved to see his big veiny hands playfully tugging and rolling your nipples between his fingers while you ground back into his erection.

“God, you’re so fucking big.” You mumbled as he rutted his erect cock again your plump backside.

“I know. Almost too big for your pretty little cunt.” He responded and you nodded in agreement. “But you like that, don’t you?” You asked and you nodded.

“Yes, daddy.” You hummed, already feeling a little loopy.

“Turn around.” He said and you twirled around and looked up at him, “How do want it, my love?” He asked and you bit your lip as your mind started to wander and imagine all of the options you had. Then, you glanced over to the bench you used for shaving, “Wanna ride me?” He asked upon noticing where it was you had looked.

“Yeah, can I?”

“Of course.” He smirked.

And before you knew it you were sinking down onto his cock impatiently. You slightly hissed at the sting of the initial stretch but kept going, pushing through the slight discomfort. You loved the pain of the stretch as he tried to fit inside of you. You sometimes grew sad over the fact that it’d never feel like the first time you had sex again, you’d only been able to take half of him that first time and you’d been so tight around him that he came twice all over your pussy and tummy. Riding him was as close as you got to recreating that. You loved how full you felt when you rode him, how it felt like he was so big that he was penetrating up into your stomach, literally rearranging your guts. It made you breathless and cock drunk so quickly. He was holding you up a good amount because the bench wasn’t as big as it looked, so you were struggling and your knees were starting to hurt and you couldn’t touch his big, taut muscles like you hoped you could.

“Fuck this, lets get out.” You panted impatiently and he lifted you up like you were nothing, holding you to his body as he quickly shut the water off, shampoo and all still in your hair. You stumbled into the bedroom and barely made it to the bed. He just sat and you started grinding away at him. You pushed his chest back and he got the hint and laid back as you started to ride him a bit harder. 

“Put your arms behind your head for support.” You said and he did so.

“Like this?” He asked and you nodded quickly. His glorious arm muscles were on full display and you could see how even his lats were nice and toned.

“Flex for me.” You requested and he did and you groaned loudly. You just wanted to bite into his biceps.

“You’re so fucking hot, daddy. So big and strong, always take such good care of me.” You panted as you rode him. Your hands roamed his chest and abs, feeling the firmness of his muscles, tracing the dip between his pecs with your index fingers and then going between his abs like you were tracing through a little maze. You started grinding in a way that he could plunge against your g-spot and he moaned over you as he felt his tip up against your spot and his eyes squeezed shut for a second.

“Fuck, right there…I’m…I’m gonna come soon.” He warned and you smirked.

“So fast?” You teased and he chuckled before wrapping his arms around you and squeezing your body tight.

“You want my cum don’t you? So what does it matter?” He asked and you melted at his question. Normally you wouldn’t mind if he came soon, you didn’t necessarily need orgasms for sex to be worth it for you. What got you off was the vibe. His energy, being present and in tune with him, making each other feel good, relishing in the intimacy of the moment. But right now, you did want to come around him.

“I want to come.” You whined softly and he suddenly flipped you back to missionary and thrust deeper into you until you gasped and pinched your eyes closed for a second.

Harry knelt up to have a better range of motion and he started going deep and slow. You could feel every inch of him sliding in and out of you, it was absolute bliss. Over and over his tip was colliding with that spot inside of you that ached and felt like ecstasy at the same time. He then slid one of his hands up your tummy until he was reaching for your breast. He groped and squeezed and felt at it in his hand. You reached for his arms and just caressed his arm. You traced up his fingers and then felt over his forearm, you were obsessed with how solid it was. Then, you worked your way up his bicep, squeezing his muscles, feeling his strength. Then, you lightly raked your nails from the butterfly inked above his abs all the way down to where your bodies were connected. His skin was littered in goosebumps and his movements stuttered.

“Fuck…” he groaned lowly and you glanced up at him, “It’s too much, baby. I’m so close!” He warned again and you smirked. Just getting to be close and feel him like this was working you up to his level. Watching him be so affected by your feather light touches was doing you in. You tickled up his other arm and he shuddered as he squeezed over your breast harder than before and you intentionally squeezed your walls around his cock. You took the time to feel it all; how he felt inside of you, how his damp skin was getting warmer and warmer the closer he got to coming. How every time you bucked up with him, your clit would bump against his pelvis, that’s how close you were. It was pushing you to the edge, you were teetering on it! 

“Me too! I’m so close, daddy!” You moaned and he started going a bit faster and you moaned breathily, “Fuck, right there! Just like that, don’t stop!” You pleaded. He was locked in on this place until he felt your thighs starting to tremble around his hips. He lowered himself and kissed you deeply.

“You’ve been so good, haven’t you, my love? Taking such good care of yourself so that you can have my baby?” He asked.

“Yeah, daddy!” You whined out.

“Fuck, I hope this is the one…” he groaned and you moaned again. “You’re squeezing so tight…shit, come for me. Come on my cock, baby.” He grunted through his hard thrusts and the tight coil of pleasure finally gave way and that tight feeling in your body started to come undone. Your hips thrusted against his without any concern for the pace he’d set as the pleasure just racked through you and wiped you out like a tidal wave. You could feeling it consuming ever nerve ending from the top of your head and down to your toes. You hugged him close to your body, letting your hands roam down his back and squeeze his ass, pushing him even deeper until he couldn’t go any further inside of you. 

“Please, put your baby in me! Come inside me, baby. Come inside me, breed me!” You whimpered and he groaned as he started to deliver hard, unforgiving thrusts as his sperm shot deep into you. The sounds coming from where your bodies were joined were absolutely filthy but you loved them. You loved that there was so much of his sperm that it made a squelchy mess for you that could be heard. You were twitchy and trembly as he filled you to the brim but that didn’t stop him from slipping out and getting on the ground to lick up your cunt. His tongue flicked at your clit until you were crying out in over stimulation as you came again. 

Your abdominal muscles were putting in work as your orgasm rippled through you, your spasming walls started to push out some of his sperm but he was not about to let any of it go to waste. 

“Nuh-uh, this cum is for you.” He mumbled lowly as his fingers slid down to about your perineum before he smeared them over your entrance carefully to get it back in you. Just knowing that the slight gape of your tight little hole was caused by his big cock made him want to fuck you all over again. He stretched you open a bit more and was able to see his cum stuffed inside of you, right to the brim. “Fuck, there’s so much of it.” He chuckled lowly as you twitched beneath him. He then laid back down and had you drape your legs over his just to keep you at an incline.

“Think we did it this time?” You asked and he smiled before kissing the back of your hand.

“Think so… but as much as I want to have a baby with you, I wouldn’t mind if it takes a little while longer. I love fucking you like this.” He chuckled his confession and you did as well. 

“This is not the position you want me in if you want this to take longer to accomplish.” You pointed out and he laughed a bit and then got up and leaned over you to kiss you slowly. You hugged him close and rubbed over his back soothingly. You wrapped your legs around him and trapped him against your body, koala style. He laughed at your silliness as he tried to pull back. “Not yet.” You pouted.

“Baby, we need to finish our shower.” He reminded. “Come on…I’ll fuck you again after. Really make it stick.” He said with a suggestive tone and you loosened your grip around him enough for him to pull back.

“I am obsessed with you.” You said and he smiled, “I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. I wouldn’t want to.” You added softly and tenderly before arching up to kiss him deeply.

“As am I, my love. And I promise, we’re gonna keep trying as long as it takes.” He assured you. “And all through it I’m going to take such good care of you. I’ll keep you safe. S’my job, as your husband to do that. My favorite job in the world.” He smiled as he looked at you lovingly.

“I love you so much.” You hummed.

“Love you.” He whispered.

>> Next Part>>

Trying update ask! (WC: 3.7k)**

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[milkb0nny]

Touch Cannot Lie

Pairing: Ivar x blind!reader

Summary: You were born without sight, but it never hurt your confidence as much since you managed to navigate and live just fine. However, other people belittle and underestimate you, which builds frustration. Though, one day you would learn someone else was feeling the same way.

Note: So, I haven't been active for some time but I'm trying to get back into it. I've been a lot into vikings and supernatural again, which is why I'm feeling motivated. 💕🫶 With that, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: fluff and butterflies in your stomach

Word count: ~1200

You stepped through the snow, its cold crunch beneath your boots breaking the silence of the forest. The paths were familiar, stuck in your memory from countless adventures shared with your siblings. These woods were more than trees and trails - they were a place of cherished moments with your beloved brothers. Your siblings had always believed in your strength, your courage, even though you couldn’t see the world as they did. They saw you as you, not as blindness.

The gods had denied you sight, but in its place, they blessed you with keen senses and an ability to see the truth in others. You learned to navigate not just the world, but the depths of people, detecting their intentions with ease. Over the years, you encountered every kind of person: those who pitied you, those who patronized you with unwanted help, and those who pried with questions born of insensitivity. You rarely encountered interest in your person, only the challenges of being blind bothered others. Yet, amidst them all, one man stood apart; someone who saw you for who you truly were, treating you with respect and dignity.

As you made your way deeper into the woods, the stillness was broken by the sound of footsteps. There was something distinct about them, something you have heard before. A rhythm accompanied by a dragging noise, as if someone were pulling a heavy object. Though they weren’t heading back toward the town, but deeper into the forest, just like you did. Before you could wonder further, voices emerged, familiar and comforting.

“Y/N!” a voice called, clear and warm. It was Ubbe. A smile crept across your face, and your pace quickened toward the raspy voice.

“Ragnarssons, what brings you out on this winter’s day?” you asked softly, moving confidently toward the voices.

“Careful, don’t fall,” Hvitserk said, reaching out to guide your hand, but you declined with a slight shake of your head. You continued steadily until you reached Ubbe and Ivar.

Ubbe spoke, explaining that they were discussing family matters and strategies for their revenge against the Saxon kingdom. You listened intently, walking beside Ivar and matching his pace. Ivar‘s voice filled the breezy air as he turned his attention to you.

“What about you? It’s rare to see you alone, Y/N,” he asked gently, though his eyes - unseen to you - glued on your frosty hands which were slightly red already.

“My brothers are busy preparing for the next feast in the grand hall,” you explained with a light chuckle. “I needed a walk to clear my head. Sometimes calmness is the best companion. Though, I imagine you know a thing or two about that, with all those brothers.”

The Ragnarssons laughed, their light heartiness warming the icy air. You had grown up alongside them in a way; your paths had crossed many times in Kattegat especially the past years, forging a bond that was both familial and unique. The conversation shifted back to their plans, but soon another set of hurried steps approached.

“Ubbe! Bjorn needs us for an urgent discussion,” came Sigurd’s voice. “He hasn’t had much time for us lately, but this is important.”

Hvitserk hesitated, glancing toward you. “Then we’ll go,” he said, “but Ivar, can you stay with Y/N? Just to ensure she doesn’t lose her way back to the town.”

The words stung, though you masked it well. Once again, you were reminded of how others saw you. Not as the capable person you were, but as someone fragile and in need of protection. You knew the paths throughout, and you trusted your senses well enough to not lose track. Though you appreciated their care, it still hurt to be defined by your blindness.

“I’m sorry for being a burden,” you murmured, frustration slipping into your voice.

“That’s my brothers’ foolishness, not yours,” Ivar replied quickly, his tone firm yet kind. “Do you want to walk further? I don’t mind spending time with you. I would not find a place in their discussion anyway.” He was mad about the fact he had been left alone once again, but he didn’t mind that he had the opportunity to be with you alone.

You smiled at his sincerity, warmth spreading through you as he lingered by your side. He understood your struggles in a way few could. You liked that, the way he never asked if you were struggling because of your eyes.

Kneeling down to meet his gaze, you felt his presence. A warmth that contrasted with the chill of the snow. The scent of leather and iron lingered around him. “I wish I could see you, Ivar,” you said softly. “I imagine you look simply human, despite what others say about your legs. Maybe you look like a god. Or perhaps a beast. Or maybe something else entirely.”

Your words spilled out before you could stop them, and the blush rising to your cheeks portrayed your embarrassment. Ivar, however, found your flushed face endearing, a rare vulnerability you shared only with him. A moment which only the two of you shared, which he would take advantage of.

“I wonder the same,” he admitted with a small smile. “Would you like me to guide you? Not to help, but to let you see in your own way.”

Your hand hesitated before reaching out, and his cold fingers enveloped yours with surprising gentleness. He didn’t feel violent but you knew his temper well enough. Up to this point you rarely touched him, perhaps a few times as a kid. Though, this moment was something different - a side of Ivar you haven’t heard of yet.

He guided your hand to his face, resting it lightly against his cheek. His skin was cold, yet the moment felt electric. Your heart fluttered as your fingers traced the contours of his face - his strong jawline, the curve of his lips, the furrow of his brows, the shape of his nose. Ivar guided you, and you followed along with a racing heart.

“Are you sure?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“I’m sure,” he replied, his grip firm but kind. “I’ve seen you do this with your brothers. It’s how you imagine what we look like, isn’t it?”

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips. His understanding touched you deeply. As your hands roamed carefully over his features, you noticed yourself savoring the moment.

“So,” he asked, a teasing edge in his voice, “am I a god or a monster?”

“You’re neither,” you said with a quiet laugh, your hands cupping his face. “You’re just human. But a very unique one.”

His eyes softened, though you couldn’t see the admiration in them. In this moment, he felt truly seen, not for his weaknesses, but for his humanity. And for the first time in a long while, so did you.

[gigabyte-flare]

Pause the Game

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: You decide to play a video game to help you wind down so you can go to bed. Sylus has other plans.

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Sylus x fem!Reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Pet names, dubcon, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: Part one of 21 Reasons is going to be freaking massive so I wanted to get a one shot out to help hold me over (especially after yesterday's banner reveal WOOF). This is loosely based on Sylus's "Crying Wolf" Secret times; as an avid gamer, that audio rewired my freaking brain. So naturally, this is 5000% self indulgent, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

It's now morning, you begin to make a mental note of all the things you have to do today before the day ends; you don't have much time.

Wake up, go water the plants, collect the eggs, milk the cows, collect the duck feathers, sheer the sheep--

"What are you playing, Sweetie?"

You practically jump where you're sat up in bed, dropping your phone in the blankets on your lap. You didn't even hear Sylus come into the bedroom.

"Are you trying to scare me, Sy?" you ask, rolling your eyes up at him as he leans over the bed to see what you're so focused on.

"Me, try to scare you? Never. Although I am shocked my little Hunter didn't even notice me…" a devious smirk appears on his lips as he leans in close to your ear, "when I was this close."

His breath on your ear causes a chill to run straight down your spine and into your core, the depths of you throbbing in response to his voice; he knows exactly what buttons to push on you. You shake your head, pushing the lewd thoughts aside just as you bring your hand up, pushing his face away.

"Sylus, come on, I was just really focused on what I was doing!"

He instantly grabs your wrist, holding it still for a moment before letting go; his devious smirk transforming into something darker, "you should know better, it'll take more than just your hand to keep me away, Kitten."

A sudden sad sounding chime emanates from your phone, drawing your and Sylus's attention to it, the words 'YOU LOSE: The wolf ate your livestock!' hovering on the screen. You let out an annoyed sigh as you pick up your phone from your lap.

"Oops… looks like you lost. Sorry for interrupting your game, Sweetie," he says with a low chuckle as he stands back up straight, slipping his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, "don't I recall you telling me this morning that you are going to start going to bed early from now on? Only naughty Kittens stay up and play games."

You clear your throat, once again willing yourself to not let Sylus get you worked up, "I like to play video games to help me wind down and go to sleep!"

Looking down at you, Sylus raises a scrutinizing eyebrow, "playing video games to fall asleep? That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. I think someone is trying to pull the wool over my eyes."

"No I'm not! Here, give it a try! It's relaxing!" you reply, holding up your phone to Sylus.

"You want me to play your silly game?" he raises his brows, glancing down at your phone before his crimson gaze shifts back up to you, he smirks again, "Oh… you're trying to prove your innocence to me. I suppose I'll indulge you."

He gently takes your phone from you, pulling the comforter back to sit in bed next to you, "scoot over, Sweetie."

You immediately shift over so he can sit next to you, laying your head against his upper arm as he cradles your phone in his hands.

"So, what exactly do you do in this game?" he asks softly.

"It's a farming simulator; you take care of your crops and livestock each day, but if you're not paying attention, the wolf will come and eat your livestock," you explain as you watch him start to play your game, the upbeat music of the game once again filling the bedroom.

"I can see how you fall asleep playing this, it's awfully boring," he replies with another soft chuckle, "let me count the sheep… one, two…"

You playfully poke Sylus's side, "well I like this game, quit being a jerk."

Sylus lets out a huff as he smiles down at your phone. He mindlessly takes care of your farm for a few minutes before his gaze begins to wander; starting with your hands folded in your lap, up your arms until he finally settles on the necklace adorning your neck.

His breath hitches upon recognizing the necklace, "is that the necklace I gave you for your birthday?"

"It is, actually," you reply, looking downwards as your bring you hand up to gently caress the necklace resting on your collarbone area, "I really like it."

"I have good taste, don't I?" Sylas asks, his own hand caressing the necklace, leaning over so that his lips hover just next to your ear, "so pretty."

He kisses the shell of your ear, intentionally making a sound knowing it drives you absolutely wild with need. His lips move from your ear, to just behind your ear, using his tongue, teeth and lips to mark your skin. You can't help but let out a soft whimper, however, you advert your gaze to your phone in his hand, the farm being left unattended.

"Sylus, what are you doing?"

"Sorry, Sweetie. This spot was too enticing for me to resist…" he purrs into your ear.

"But the farm--"

"The farm?" Sylus sits back up, his crimson eyes giving you a predatory look, "I don't have your undivided attention, do I?"

He growls, turning his body and climbing on top of you while still under the blankets, essentially caging you with his body, his ruby eyes practically burning into your soul as he looks down at you, "you know how much I hate sharing, Kitten."

Your phone, now laying on the bed next to the two of you, plays the same sad chime from earlier. You watch Sylus's eyes shift over to your phone, that smirk you love so much appearing once more, "oh dear… looks like we lost again."

Leaning down to you, his lips hover above yours, his breaths ragged, hot and heavy as he whispers, "the wolf ate all the animals."

Before you can even say a word, he descends upon you, his mouth devouring yours like a man starved. His hands grip your upper arms like a vice as he turns his head to invade your mouth with his tongue, savoring you. In the midst of this, you try to reach over to grab your phone, but Sylus is quick to grab you by the wrist again, pinning your arm to the mattress before shoving your phone away, so hard that it falls off the bed.

"Now, why are you reaching for your phone?" he asks, burying his face into the crook of your neck, "if you need something to help you fall asleep, I can fulfill that role."

He props himself up on his arms and knees, once again caging you beneath him. First, he slips your pajama top up over your head before he slowly moves downward, trailing his lips and tongue down your body as he moves.

He stops briefly over your breasts, his hot breath caressing your hardened nipples before he speaks, "how do you think the wolf ate the animals? Like this?"

His mouth seals itself over one of your breasts, his tongue swirling and flicking your nipple; all the while his crimson gaze is locked on you. You can't help but let out a strangled moan, covering your mouth with your hand as your body trembles beneath him.

He relinquishes your breast with a pop, then proceeds to continue moving downward once more, gracing your skin with his soft lips as he moves lower and lower. He reaches the hem of your pajama bottoms, hooking them and your underwear beneath with his fingers, peeling them off slowly and tossing them off the bed once they're off. He pries your legs apart, looking up at you with an animalistic grin.

"Or like this?" he growls before diving into the spot between your thighs, lapping up the sweet nectar of your arousal.

"Sylus!" you cry out, your hand moving down to tangle your fingers in his silver locks, but rather than push him away, you force him down into your heat, earning you a dark chuckle in response; the vibrations coursing through your folds, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

He starts by flicking your throbbing clit with his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like his life depends on it. The coil of your release binds tight in your stomach and just when it's about to snap, he moves lower. His tongue delves into your leaking hole, caressing your walls as his nose rubs your clit. Your heels dig into the mattress, trying to stop your legs from violently shaking, but your efforts are useless. Your makeup is running down the sides of your face from your violent cries of his name. He lets out a low growl, the vibrations hurling you over the edge. Your release covers tongue and mouth; when he pulls himself away from your sex, strings of your orgasm pull away with him before snapping and dripping onto the sheets below.

Sylus sits up onto his knees, his deft fingers making short work of his belt and pants zipper, "is my Kitten prepared?"

Your eyes widen when he pulls out his hardened length, the tip red and angry, dripping with pre-cum. He then proceeds to crawl back up to you, nestling his hips between your spread legs; you feel the tip of his cock prod at your entrance.

"Because the wolf is coming."

With a single jerk of his hips, he sheathes his whole length into your warm depths, causing you to yelp. As Sylus stares down at you, you drape your arms around his shoulders, trying to brace yourself as he begins to brutally thrust into you. Each thrust hits your cervix, making your eyes flutter and roll into the back of your head. Sylus buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, biting and sucking dark bruises into your skin.

"Don't hold back, Kitten. I want to hear how good I'm making you feel."

His ministrations move to your throat, but not before running his tongue over the necklace he bought you, pulling a strangled moan out of you. His tongue continues to run up your throat until he reaches your chin. He smirks, a low chuckle emanating from him before his lips are on yours once more. You can taste the tangy flavor of your release as your tongues dance with each other. His large hands grasp your breasts, gently squeezing them before he rolls both nipples between his index fingers and thumbs. You sob into his mouth, which he happily devours with a growl. Soon, his thrusts become uneven, heralding his release.

With a breathy moan of his own, he snaps his hips into you once last time, his member throbbing as he paints your pussy walls white with his love. His hands grasp the pillow under your head as he rests his forehead against yours. You whimper as your legs hook around his waist, your body shaking as you come down from your own release. Your breaths are shaking as you place a gentle kiss onto the tip of his nose. He can't help but smile and laugh.

"That was more fun than you silly little game, wouldn't you say, Sweetie?"

[phas3d]

Can you do slytherin boys head canons with ravenclaw reader who info dumps randomly

You're Smart || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: draco, tom, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

summary :: you have a habit of saying fun facts and explaining everything in great detail while they listen - it's not super ravenclaw based but u can imagine it :) THANK U FOR REQUESTINGG RAAAHHHH - 🐍 :: masterlist!

DRACO MALFOY

Hated it at first since it felt like you were trying to on up him

Would start to research more topics on his own to make sure you can't one up him on it

Turns this into a competition that's completely one sided for no reason LMAO

Stays up all night up just to learn the most niche and useless information of all time

But somehow, you always know more than him and beat him

Gets so frustrated by this because he can't stand not being the smartest know-it-all in the room

So he decides to try and make YOU seem stupid

Asks you super hard questions that no one could possibly know

But for some reason, you know it

This drives him even crazier cause he can't win LOL

But overtime, he grows to find it really useful and cute at times

He likes to see how passionate you are on different things

And he does like smart girls, so he starts to see it as a pro

TOM RIDDLE

Super annoyed by the fun facts and random info at the start

Mainly because he probably already knows it or he doesn't care for it

Because if he was interested, he would have searched it up already

So in his eyes, it seems like you're call him too lazy and dumb to want to search something up

So he tells you to shut up right away when he knows you're going to info dump

But sometimes, he genuinely doesn't know and he hates admitting that

He's super bad at social interactions, online culture, etc, so he does need help with those

But he's too egotistical to admit that

So he starts to just "ignore you" when you info dump

You'll explain the deep and complicated lore of Trisha Paytas and once you're done he'll say, "Huh? Oh I was spacing out."

But in reality, he was listening in depth and taking mental notes

So he starts to use this to his advantage since you do describe every very well

He starts to silently train you in a way

For example, he'll place a group of items in front of you, like a blue shirt next to a Slytherin hoodie

This will then remind you of Alvin and the Chipmunks so you dive into the deep lore of each actor

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Doesn't really care much at first since he's always been a bit dumber than other kids

He assumed everything you were saying was common knowledge and that he was just dumb

But when others start to mention how smart you are, he's surprised

He has a smart s/o :O

Well, he always knew that but to find out that you were smarter than a majority of people gave him a confidence boost

Starts to rely on you for every single question he has possible

Even if he knows the answer, he just wants to see if he's right

He likes it when you info dump to him

Surprisingly, he's a really good listener when it comes to you

Loves listening to you talk for hours on end

THEODORE NOTT

He's not much of a talker, so having you there to info dump on him is really amusing

You're like a walking podcast for him to listen to

Likes to ask you questions too so you can switch topics

He's super proud of seeing how smart you are

Theo is pretty smart, the smartest out of the Slytherin boy group at least (Which isn't that hard) (Tom doesn't count LOL)

So it's nice for him to finally talk to someone that doesn't ask dumb ass questions every 5 minutes

It's like switching his brain off so he can just listen to you talk and explain

It makes him feel safer with you to know that you're so smart and into so many things

He also loves it because it makes it so easy to buy you a gift since he knows exactly what you like :)

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

You're both kinda in the same boat which is amazing and bad

He's also into info dumping and telling you about the niche history he found out

But so are you, so you two end up clashing and having different ideas

Like for example, you were both info dumping about the brand new live actions Avatar the Last Air Bender and you both had drastically different thoughts

Lorenzo thought a lot of it was inaccurate but you were defending it with your life

But in the end, you both just shut up because you accidentally switch topics mid way

He loves asking you questions about niche topics so he doesn't have to research them himself

Likes listening to you talk while he eats

Sometimes he'll facetime you while he has dinner so he can listen to you talk

And sometimes he even calls you before bed so you can talk him to sleep :)

thank you for reading ! 🐍 :: masterlist!

[girlbossagenda]

HOW TO HAVE YOUR SUMMER REVENGE GLOW UP

Summer break it's here! A lot of us have grown out of shape due to all the stress caused from school, and the lack or time to exercise or live a more healthy lifestyle, are you scared to go to the beach because you feel like you don't have that beach body? Are you heart broken and just want to live your hot girl summer or perhaps you want to finally be confident your body and change your entire life? If so this is the maxi guide for you.

౨ৎHow to get started౨ৎ

I made this google doc where I explain things more in depth here you can find, how to glow up: physically, mentally and socially(friends, summer filings, popularity etc...) if you want to know how to archive your results, you can find my explanation in depth(also winter friendly)

Here -> THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY: HOW TO REVENGE GLOW UP

Do you remember those girl on YouTube, IG and tumblr?The pretty ones that were living their best summer? Wanna be like them? Then think and plan a summer in the same way a girl with your dream summer would do!

୨୧Make a pre-summer status୨୧

We will use this to track what changed about out life during this summer, I know it might be stressful or embarassing at first, but you're going to be grateful knowing all the progress that you made

୨୧Work on your mindset୨୧

This is so important, read again point n°1, and then put yourself in the shows of the person that you want to become, for example:

-> you want to be a pretty popular girl? "Would the pretty popular girl say that her Summer is ruined and that she has no one to hangout with"? I don't think so.

౨ৎHOW TO GLOW UP PHYSICALLY౨ৎ

if you're interested just in the physical stuff this is the section for you(more in depth in the Google doc)

You need to understand that most of the time a summer glow up last up until the first week of school then it's gone, but you want it to last, right? Here's how:

୨୧Find a low effort beauty routine୨୧

During summer you have all the time to maintain a beauty regiment, but you also need to make it practical, for example you might keep your hair natural during summer, you need to simplify them -> extensions, braids, sew in, silk presses or clip in...

୨୧Change hair color୨୧

During summer you need to grab attention change hair color to blonde, red, or more funky colors like blue, pink etc...

୨୧Diet୨୧

I know, it's hard, with all the ice cream around, but you can also try by drinking healthy smoothies(especially the green ones), opt also for a salad as a snack.

୨୧Skincare୨୧

You have to wear sunscreen and if you want to get a tan you NEED to put that after sun lotion and be consistent with your skincare

୨୧Grow your lashes + eyebrows୨୧

Always, this is a must, you finally have enough time, then start now, be consistent and in 3 months you're going to have the best result, I advise you to use castor oil in the night and in the day a lash growth serum.

୨୧Learn to do your make up୨୧

Optional but very useful, in those days that you're at home you can learn how to do your make up so you're going to comeback to school and slay even in your worst days, plus it's a cute hobby.

౨ৎHOW TO GET POPULAR DURING SUMMER౨ৎ

If you don't have friends at school it would be nice to have them outside, plus having friends out makes you so much cooler! Are you ready to expand your social life?

୨୧Summer school/camp୨୧

A classic, you can meet so many people here, works best if you are between 11-16 yo, If you're 16+ you can try joing a camp and be an animator

୨୧Beach୨୧

Have you even heard of "the beach friend"? Where I'm from they are very common and popular, it usually starts early in childhood, but you can also make them at your age! You just need to approach the people that look like share the same interests as you, better if they are alone too!

୨୧Online୨୧

You can go on a forum site and actually ask in the chat if someone wants to make friends and exchange ig, snaps,discord etc...you might make long distance but strong friendships

୨୧Work୨୧

Now coworkers are not actually your friends, but you might get close to some, better if it's not a competitive environment, try to network between your coworkers, maybe some of them actually know people of your interest, if you can start working with friends!

୨୧Neighborhood events୨୧

Churches usually during summer do some activities for the youths you can try and enjoy them! Or go to a popular place or even host in your neighborhood!

౨ৎHOW TO HAVE A SUMMER FLING౨ৎ

I'm not really into romance, but it might be different from some of y'all! If you want to flirt, get. In a relationship or just have some fun experimenting then keep reading!

Follow the beauty steps written before!

୨୧Go to parties or events(better if on the beach)୨୧

What a better place to find love if not on the beach? All you'll need to do it's to wear a cute bikini and have fun with your friends!

୨୧Work on your gaze୨୧

You know the phrase "love at first sight"? Let's turn it into "love at first gaze" you need to exercise on your facial expressions and your seductive gaze, grab a mirror and flirt with yourself!

୨୧Make time to hangout୨୧

You're not going to find love by staying at home! You need to get out and wander around the city! Go to all the places where people of your age go! Bring your friends along(if you can or be brave and go alone!)

Phew, this guide was quite long! And there's so much more! Thank you for sticking with me and supporting my blog! Ilysm and I'm so grateful for all the people that read my posts, let's glow up together this summer!

xoxo gorgeous

-𝓐

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT TWO: RIBS

pairing: natalie scatorccio/reader

summary: You showed up to the "get-together" Natalie invited you to. It was, apparently, more than just a "get-together".

wc: 5350

warnings: reader drinks alcohol, mentions of drug usage, lowkey reader getting a little obsessive

a/n: i have angst in my pants!

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - NATALIE'S INTERLUDE ONE

NEXT - ACT TWO: IF YOU'RE TOO SHY (LET ME KNOW)

You shouldn't be here.

You aren't sure how many times that thought has echoed inside your head since your mom dropped you off at your friend's house a few blocks away, and how many more times you've reiterated the same thought since you started walking toward the location of the party.

According to Google Maps (because Natalie sent the geographical coordinates to it, like a normal person would), it's on an empty lot in some abandoned industrial sector.

You can see and hear the party from a block away. Because… it is a party. It is not just a 'friendly get-together', or whatever Nat had said. It is a party. And you feel out of your depth by a long shot. Realistically, you could turn around and leave. It's not like anyone has seen you yet, and it's not like you even know anyone here besides Natalie.

…but then you would need to walk back to your friend's house. Call your mom. Ask her to come pick you up already. Explain why you…

Ugh.

You walk into the industrial lot, partygoers surrounding you on all sides, music blasting off of someone's phone that's hooked up to some dollar store Bluetooth speakers.

The entire place reeks of shitty beer, cigarette smoke, cotton candy vape, and weed.

Yep. This is a high school party. You're half expecting to find someone hooking up in a bush somewhere.

Someone probably is. You'd rather not think about that.

You hug the lot's edges, weaving through clusters of people you vaguely recognize from school. However, you swear you see more than a few people who graduated, which is kinda weird if you're being honest, but maybe that's just the 'high school party' experience.

As you continue to walk the lot, you feel more out of place than ever. The music is somehow too loud and cheap simultaneously, distorting with every bass drop. You’re clutching at your phone like a lifeline, scrolling mindlessly just to look busy.

And then you see her.

You aren't surprised to see her surrounded by people. Nat's leaning up against a support pillar, a cigarette pinched between her fingers, and a lazy grin on her face as she says something that makes her friends—faces you vaguely recognize—laugh.

When her gaze flashes over to you, you feel a brief flicker of hope that she's about to wave you over to her friends, introduce you, invite you into her circle…

Yet, all she does is give you a small nod of her head, a slight raise of her bottle, and before you can even think to wave back, she returns to the conversation she was having with her friends.

You aren't sure why her ignoring you hurts the way it does, but you feel a slight sting of pain in your chest all the same. Did she really just invite you just to ignore you? You try and tell yourself that you're just overthinking things—she’s probably just busy with her friends—but that nagging feeling doesn’t go away. 

You move yourself deeper into the lot, immersing yourself further into the party, hoping to avoid drawing attention to yourself by blending in with the crowds. A group of seniors—or maybe they've already graduated, it's hard to tell—pass by you, laughing loudly and overall being obnoxious, nearly drunkenly stumble into you. You sidestep them awkwardly, clutching your phone like you'd die without it as you attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

You find a busted folding table off to the side of the party, various different drinks, mixers, coolers, and cheap beers decorating its surface. You grab the least offensive-looking drink—a Pineapple Truly—and crack the can as you move to lean against a stack of wooden pallets, eyes searching the party for any sign of someone you know.

And, much to your unsurprise, you don't recognize anyone that you would actually know and would know you. The cool night air does little to ease the nerves twisting in your stomach, and you find yourself scanning the crowd for Natalie again. She’s nowhere to be seen.

Great.

The next time you manage to catch sight of Nat, she's walking right past you.

You're taking a sip of a (different) Pineapple Truly, trying to blend in and act like you aren't mentally freaking out. Leaning up against the pallets, you let your eyes scan the busy crowd. Occasionally, someone bumps into you or stumbles too close, and you shrink back further into the shadows.

Then, that person who stumbles too close ends up being Nat. Finally.

Natalie’s walking past you, her head turned to say something to someone trailing behind her. “Hey—” you start to call out, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even look your way.

Oh.

You clear your throat and take a step back, hiding yourself further, and squeeze your can just tight enough to hear it crinkle under your grasp. It's not like you expected her just to drop everything and run over to you, but… something? Anything?

You sigh, down the rest of the drink in the can, and then toss it into a nearby trash bin. "Fuck me." You murmur to yourself as you cross your arms.

“Hey.” A voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to see a girl with a sunlit warmth to her skin and dark, wavy hair with a soft smile. You vaguely recognize her—she plays on the soccer team. You're pretty sure she comes from money; if her outfit is any indication. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Oh, uh…” You fumble for a response, shifting awkwardly. “Natalie invited me.”

The girl raises an eyebrow, her smile turning a little knowing. “And you’re just… hanging out here? Not with her?” She glances in Nat's general direction before turning back to you, "What's up with that?"

You shrug, unsure how to answer that without sounding pathetic. “Good question. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” A sigh escapes your lips, and you wish you had another can of… well… anything, honestly, to drown out the noise in your head.

She laughs lightly, her gaze flicking back toward the crowd. “Don’t read too much into it. Nat’s… well, Nat. If she invited you, she wanted you here. That’s just how she is.”

"Doesn't mean it feels good." You murmur, kicking at a discarded cigarette butt on the ground below. 

A sympathetic smile graces her face, "She's a complicated person," a beat, "try not to overthink it." The way she adds the last part makes it sound like she knows something you don't, and honestly? She probably does.

"Easier said than done." You sigh and glance out over the crowd with her, "I don't know, I guess I was just…" You stop yourself, realising that talking to a total stranger about this probably isn't the best idea. "Uh… any advice?" 

"On dealing with Natalie?" She laughs humourlessly, and you get the sense she wants to say something really sarcastic, but when she sees the look in your eyes, she pauses and sighs. "Just… take your time. She's complicated. And there really isn't advice I can give you. Just…take most things she says with a grain of salt." A beat, "You'll know what I mean when it happens."

"When it happens?" You shake your head, slightly confused, "What does that mean?"

The girl shrugs, opens her mouth, then turns her head in the direction of someone yelling, "Lottie!" And… she's off without giving you an answer to your question.

What the fuck did you get yourself into here?

Another twenty minutes of passive-aggressive house music and shitty alcoholic beverages pass before you finally see Nat again.

She's standing in front of a steel drum fire with some lanky goth kid and this dorky-looking guy with curly hair, staring into the fire with a blank expression on her face.

Which is slightly concerning, but that's an issue to deal with at a later date and time. 

But, hey. Might as well approach.

You run off to one of the tables and quickly grab a beer for her and another Truly for yourself before darting back out in her direction, and—

God-fucking-dammit.

You swear this girl must be a fucking poltergeist or something with how she just fades in and out of crowds. It could be considered an art, really.

You grumble under your breath in frustration, downing both the beer (which you don't really enjoy the flavour of, but whatever) and the Truly within seconds of each other before tossing both containers into a nearby trashcan.

You aren't gonna sit around for the rest of the party, waiting to talk to the one person that you actually know here.

Grabbing one more Truly for the road, you decide to leave.

When you hear it, you're halfway across the lot, clusters of people slowly thinning out to nothing.

"PRINCESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" A loud, drunken voice slurs out, "WHERE YA' GOIN'?"

The exaggerated drawl and familiar pet name stop you in your tracks, jaw and fists immediately clenching in frustration. You really should just keep walking. Stand your ground. Prove you're angry! She spent the past two(ish) hours avoiding you! You're mad!

Which is exactly why you turn around to face the voice.

Against your better judgment, you glance over your shoulder, and there she is—Natalie Scatorccio, looking far too pleased with herself as she jogs over to you, the ends of her bleach-blonde hair catching the dim glow of the fire behind her.

"Home." You reply flatly, crossing your arms in a subconscious act of putting up walls. "Thought I'd leave since the person that invited me didn't seem to care too much if I was here or not." The words come out petulant, and you honestly sound like a middle school girl who just found out her friends had a sleepover and didn't invite her, but whatever.

"Wait, what?" Nat shakes her head, seemingly sobering up at the mention of you leaving. "Wh— s-seriously?" A nervous laugh escapes her as she steps forward, "But… wait… hold on." Another nervous laugh, "We haven't even talked—"

"You've barely even acknowledged me all night, Nat." You cut her off with a murmur, crossing your arms defensively, "Like… you walked right past me earlier! What am I supposed to assume?"

The blonde opens and closes her mouth for a moment, brain apparently lagging a little as she tries to come up with a response, "I… I was just…" She runs a hand over her face, "Fuck."

When her hand drops, you see exactly why her response time is so slow. It's not that you know what she's taken, but based on the way her pupils are dilated and how spaced out she seems, it's glaringly apparent she's done more than just drink while she's been here.

"Princess." She sighs, "Look. I wasn't… I wasn't doing it on purpose, okay? I've just…" A groan, "I've been busy all night, is all."

"Seriously?" You murmur back, "That's it? That's the best you can come up with? That you were busy?"

"Well—!" She throws her hands in the air in frustration, although she looks more upset at herself than you. "Whatever. Look… just… whatever. I was leaving, anyway. I'll come along with you."

"No." You say, shaking your head, "I don't need to babysit you on my walk back."

"Babysit?" Nat scoffs, "I'm fucking capable of taking care of myself."

"Are you?" You don't have much experience with drugs, but you get the gist of what it means to be under the influence. "Because it took you a solid ten seconds to figure out a response to me calling out the way you acted tonight."

She can't dispute that, it seems. 

You huff and turn around, "Whatever, Natalie."

"No, w-wait, hey—!" The sound of someone stumbling over their own feet from behind you, "I… look…" She falls into step beside you, "Come on. Let me make it up to you." Her words are slightly slurred, and her gait growing more unsteady with each step.

"No." You reply flatly, still walking away as if you were a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Dude." Nat groans, continuing to walk beside you. "Please? I don't… fuck. I feel bad. Please."

Despite yourself, you slow down slightly. "And what exactly would I be doing with you?"

Nat lights up at that, "Uh. Right. Okay. So. I was thinking… I could… just… walk you home? Or something? I don't… I don't know where you live or anything, but I'm assuming it's far from here? And, uh, I could walk you back?"

You shake your head, "Don't you live in the trailer park? That's a pretty long walk from my place. I don't want to—"

The blonde waves her hands frantically and cuts you off, "No! No! Seriously. It's fine. I want to walk with you. I don't care if I have to take a two-hour detour, okay? I wanna walk you home." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the same switchblade you saw her with the day you two went on the convenience store run and shoots you a small grin, "I can be your bodyguard for the night?"

You sigh, uncrossing your arms. "Am I going to regret this?"

A dumb, stupid grin consumes Nat's face. "Nope!" She pops the 'p' excitedly, " You will not—" She trips over her own feet, nearly faceplants, catches herself on a streetlamp, stumbles back into a trash can, and then drops her knife as she almost falls into said trash can.

You stop and turn around, staring at her unblinking like you can't believe that just happened. And you can't. Talk about comedic timing.

"You have to be fucking with me." You murmur as you look down at Nat, lying there in a Family Guy Death Pose. "We haven't even begun, and you've already—"

"Getting up!" She murmurs, scrambling to put her hands on the trashcan to boost herself to a standing position. "Up! I'm up!" She brushes her pants off and looks around frantically for her knife, "Did you, uh, see where—"

You nod at where it's lying in the grass next to the sidewalk, "I'd also see if you can find your brain cells while you're down there." The words come out in a quiet mumble under your breath, "Maybe your… soberness while you're at it."

Nat waves her hand dismissively at the added comments, "Yeah, yeah. Get it out now, Princess." She grumbles as she slips the knife into her waistband, "Now, come on." She hops back up to full height (which, to be fair, wasn't much taller), "I've got a princess to escort home."

You wish you could fight the smile that appears on your face at her words, as cheesy as they are. "You're so dumb." You murmur out, but you swear she can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks. "I better not have to carry you."

The girl—seemingly in a much better mood—shakes her head. "Nah. Promise I won't put you through that. At least…" She leans in slightly, "Well, unless you want to carry me?"

You shove her shoulder to push her back from your proximity, "Fuck off. I don't want to carry your drunk ass home."

"Drunk?" She laughs, stumbling a bit from your shove, "I've only had two beers, thank you very much."

Based on your narrowed, suspicious glance, she knows you think that's a lie. "I'm serious. Two beers. Just two."

"Fine." You roll your eyes as the two of you walk side-by-side, Nat seemingly instinctively standing on the side closest to the street, "But you obviously did something else."

An undignified, incredulous snort leaves her, "What makes you so sure of that? You even been around a party with drugs?" A beat, "Oh, right. You've barely partied at all."

Although the words are teasing, they also hurt slightly for reasons you can't properly name. A lack of the assumed 'high school experience,' maybe? Either way, there's a small stinging in your chest you choose to ignore for the time being. "Your pupils are wide enough that you can barely see the green in your eyes, for starters." You huff, "It took you, like, ten seconds to come up with a response earlier. You were tripping and stumbling all over—" You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a frustrated exhale, slowing down slightly. "I know I'm not streetsmart, like you. But I'm not completely useless. I know what it looks like when someone is high, Nat."

Nat sighs and slows down with you, pushing a hand through her hair. "It's not like… I took something…" She sighs again, "It was just a party drug. Just some special K."

"Special… K?" You say, confused. "Like… the cereal?"

Nat has to stop herself from face-palming, "The… cereal? Really? No, obviously, it's not the cereal, dumbass." She rolls her eyes, but a grin twitches on her lips at the teasing comment, "Fucking… K." A beat, and when you still don't understand, she swallows and glances around for a moment before mumbling out a "ketamine."

"Ketamine?!" You stop walking, turning to face her, "What?! A fucking horse tranquillizer—!"

She clamps her hand over your mouth, "Jesus Christ! Did you want the entire fucking neighbourhood to hear?!" She glances around properly this time, checking to ensure no one overheard your little outburst, "Yes! Okay? But, like, the dose you take at parties is hardly the same as the dose that gets used to fucking… K.O horses! It's not the first time I've done it, alright? It probably won't be the last! But I'm fine! You don't need to fucking act like I just confessed I was shooting up or some shit!"

"Have you?!" You mumble against her palm, to which she starts shaking her head rapidly.

"No. I've done a lot of shit to my body, but everything's been through the mouth or nose, alright?" A beat, and when she's sure you won't start screaming again, she lowers her hand. "'s not like I do it by myself, alright? It's only ever at parties with friends. People I trust to buy from." And, for added measure, "Don't need you worrying about me. Alright, Princess? I'm…" She hesitates, choosing a word to fit the situation, "Careful. Okay? I'm careful."

"You say that, but you never really know—"

"I don't need your ass getting all over me about this, okay?!" Nat snaps, cutting you off. "Say whatever drug bullshit PSA you need to, but I'm not gonna fucking stop using it when I need—uh, want to, alright?!"

You almost open your mouth to respond to that, snap back at her and raise your voice, but by some grace of God, you don't. 

Pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a step back, "Fine." You sigh, "Whatever, Nat. Do your…" You gesture at nothing, "Drugs. Do your fucking drugs."

"Oh, get off it." Nat scoffs, "Acting that you're soooooo much better than me because you're all straight cut and innocent." 

The assumption and the anger in her tone cause you to step back, swallowing down a lump of… something in your throat. "You know I wasn't even thinking that, Nat." You murmur, hurt lacing the words. "I'm just—"

"I don't need you to be worried about me. I don't fucking need—"

"I get it, Nat!" You cut her off, "You don't need anyone worrying about you. Or caring about you. Or even being friends with you. I get it. But I can't help that I care about people, okay?! You just happen to be a person!"

Nat opens and closes her mouth uselessly a few times, trying to formulate some sort of response to your comment but failing to come up with one that wouldn't just be her repeating what was already said. 

Eventually, "Didn't ask you to care." The blonde grumbles, crossing her arms pettishly. But… she doesn't seem to have a proper rebuttal to your claim, letting the two of you fester in the uncomfortable silence that's accumulated. 

A few moments pass in that awkward tension before Nat scuffs her combat boots on the pavement below, "Look, Princess, I…" She uncrosses her arms and runs a hand through her hair, refusing to meet your eyes. "Look. I appreciate the concern, yeah? I just… I don't need or want it, okay?" Then, under her breath, "Hardly worth caring about like that, anyway."

"Nat, c'mon…" You murmur back, taking a careful step toward her, "I…" But the way she looks genuinely uncomfortable at the idea of someone worrying about her makes you hesitate. 

You haven't known her all too long, but you get the idea she's never had anyone look after her. You may not get it, and you'll never be able to understand what that was like properly, but you can't help the way your heart aches at the thought.

Maybe the walls run higher and deeper than you initially thought they would.

"C'mon." You murmur, nodding off in the direction of your house, "I was promised armed protection on my walk home, wasn't I?"

Nat looks back up at you, and a small, barely perceptible smile makes its way onto her face, "Yeah, uh, yeah. I did. You were." 

"Then let's go. Don't have all night." With that, you turn off to start walking and hoping she'll follow.

She does. 

It's like Nat said. If they want to follow you, they will.

"So, uh, where do you live?" Nat tries after a few minutes of you two walking in silence, "You said it was away from the trailer park, and we're heading east, so… Willow's Court?"

"Oh, uh," You blink a few times in shock, "No, but it's right next to it. Uh, Woodsmere Crescent?"

Nat nods a few times, then realises it probably sounds weird that she just… knows the names of all the neighbourhoods on the east side of town, "Yeah, uh, Shauna lives in Willow's Court. So… you just sorta learn the general area."

That… makes sense, you suppose. Either way, you decide not to push that matter further, "You… hang out with her a lot, then?"

Her nose scrunches in response to that question, "Not really. Just end up going by if I get a ride home from parties. Occasionally, we go over there for 'team-bonding exercises'—or whatever Jackie decides to call them that day—but I don't really spend a lot of time with Shauna. She seems okay, or whatever." Nat shrugs, stuffing her hands in the pocket of her leather jacket as she walks alongside you, feet stable on the solid ground. "Only really talk to Lottie and Van."

You blink at the name. Lottie. That was the girl that you talked to earlier—the one that told you not to overthink your interactions with Nat. You try not to let the slight surprise show on your face as you probe for more information, "You close with them, then? Lottie and Van?"

She briefly considers that before giving you a slight nod, "Yeah. Known Van my whole life. We joined the soccer team together back in middle school. Just ended up sticking with it."

"Hey, obviously, it worked out!" You nudge her with your elbow, "Starting Varsity. Gotta be in the sights of some scouts for colleges, right?"

An uncomfortable frown appears on Nat's face at the mention of 'college,' "Yeah, uh, I dunno. Think I accepted a while ago that my chance to get out of this shithole has passed."

That makes you frown back, "What do you mean?"

The blonde runs one of her hands through her hair, hesitating for a long moment with her reply. "It's…" A sigh, "Don't worry about it, yeah?"

You frown, and really want to find out what the fuck she means by that, but you can tell from the look on her face that pushing the topic would only make her mad.

Maybe one day.

Silence festers in the air between the two of you for a handful of blocks, and you more than regret bringing up the future. You suppose it makes sense. She probably lives on an 'if I survive this year' philosophy, never entirely thinking about the long-term consequences of her actions. 

Eventually, Nat decides she can't take the awkward silence and again breaks it, "You gotta be smart though, right? You got colleges knocking on your doors? Maybe for your art?"

"My… art?" You glance at her, eyes widened. "It's… it's hardly good enough for college-level arts programs. Just something I do for fun."

Nat immediately shakes her head, "No… no, I've seen your work. It's good, dude. Like that's the stuff that belongs in art magazines or whatever. And you can't say it's just for fun when you take art classes."

Your face heats immediately at the compliment, and you find yourself stuttering over a meek 'thanks…' having not expected such high praise, especially from Natalie Scatorccio of all people.

This girl is… confusing. You've already determined she's got walls higher than China, but you've started to see the cracks forming in them. There are small, barely visible cracks, but some fractures in the walls nonetheless. There's that old adage about 'one step forward, two steps back,' but… you think you're making some progress. Slowly chipping away at the defenses she's built over time. Maybe you could—

"I think you could get out of this town." Nat murmurs, breaking the quiet (and your train of thought). "You got the brains and the talent. You could do it." Her words are surprisingly genuine, and you think she shocked herself at the admission, based on the way her eyes quickly dart to and from you. 

"Thanks, uh, Nat." You murmur back, equally as flustered as she is. "Don't get a lot of compliments."

It's like a switch flips in her head at the follow-up comment and her entire demeanour changes. Nat walks vaguely closer to you as the pair of you travel down the sidewalk. "Don't get a lot of compliments?" She clicks her tongue, "Princess, who has been depriving you of that? If anyone deserves praise, it's gotta be you." A lop-sided grin rests easily on her face, a far cry from the girl who was just flustered while complementing your art.

"Uh." You swallow nervously, "Uh. Yeah, uh, thanks." 

Natalie drops a low laugh at your fumbled reply, the sound causing an unexpected shiver to rake down your spine. "Anytime, Princess." A beat, "You know, I've got more where that came from. Started with your art and brains, let's move to…" She hums in mock thought, eyes tracing your form in a way that makes you feel something you aren't used to, "Your eyes." The blonde grins, and you both know that you were expecting her to say something far dirtier. "I like them. Like the colour."

It's a flat compliment; you know it as well as she does. "Thanks. You can thank my dad for the colour."

"Mm, got it from your dad, huh? What you get from your mom?" She leans in a little closer, "Anything specific?"

"Uh—" You fluster yourself further, "Uh… my, uh, hair colour?"

Her smile falters slightly at your response—or lack thereof—but she quickly recovers, "It's a nice colour. Rich. Something I could tangle my fingers in."

You almost trip over your own feet when she leans in a little closer to your proximity, "Oh, uh!" You catch yourself on the fence beside you, trying to play it off like you tripped over a rock. "Uh, wow, uh, t-thank you?" A nervous laugh escapes your lips, "I, uh, wash it regularly?"

Nat rolls her eyes at your continued failure to return her flirtations, even by the smallest amount but keeps pushing regardless. "What's your shampoo smell like?" She leans into your personal space, your breath catching at the sudden proximity. "Mm." You can hear her inhale, your heart caught in your throat, "I like it. Very… you."

You start walking a little faster down the sidewalk, mumbling out something you hope is similar to a sound of appreciation at the comment, face burning something fierce. 

"Princess." Nat drawls with a low chuckle, "Don't act all shy on me now. What happened to the lady who was yellin' at me for 'ignoring' her, huh?" Another chuckle follows her words, and she takes some hurried steps to catch up with you. "Not ignoring you now, am I?"

"No, you aren't, uh, ignoring me anymore. That's, uh, for sure." You nervously rub at your arm, feeling increasingly flustered as the conversation continues. "And I, uh, appreciate you walking me home?"

A frustrated exhale escapes Nat, and she pulls back with a huff, murmuring something under her breath that you can't quite make out.

Admittedly, you feel a little bad that you don't—can't—return her flirting. But she stops her flirting at your apparent reluctance and leans away from you, hands back in her pockets. "Yeah, anytime." She grumbles out, causing you to sink further into yourself at the upset that laces her tone. 

The following five minutes are spent in relative silence, the atmosphere far too uncomfortable for your liking.

You're almost relieved when your house comes into view, giving you an excuse to break the tension in the air. You point at your home, a simple brown duplex nestled beside houses that all look exactly the same. It's the type of house that lower-middle-class families would reside in.

"That's me." As you continue approaching the house, fishing the house keys out of your pocket, you say, "I, uh, I really appreciate you walking me home, Nat." Even if it got really awkward and uncomfortable halfway through, "You didn't have to. Especially this time of night."

Nat waves her hand dismissively, stopping at the edge of your driveway. "Don't mention it. Can't let a pretty girl walk alone at this time of night, yeah?" She shoots you a toothy grin, "Always need protection."

You roll your eyes at the comment and shove playfully at her shoulder, "Whatever, Burnout. Just know I appreciate it."

She gives you a grin and a nod, standing there with her hands in her pockets, staring at you like she's expecting something. "Anytime. And, for the record, I provide other services than just security." Nat leans in, a faint twitch of her eyes as she moves further into your vicinity.

With a strained, nervous laugh, you take a step back and hold up your house key, "We will have to… talk about that another time! Gotta… gotta get inside! Parents, curfew, all that fun stuff. Haha! Thanks again!"

You turn around and briskly walk up the driveway, and when you reach the door, you see Nat still standing there out of the corner of your eye. Hesitation seizes your form momentarily at her continued gaze, and for a moment, you almost debate—

Nat lets out a huff, turns, and walks off in a different direction. She fishes a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, grumbling something unintelligible.

Watching her walk off a moment longer, you feel regret starting to tug at the back of your head, so you quickly slide the key into the lock and open the door with a shaky breath, heart beating a little too quickly for your liking.

When you push into your house, the living room is dark, and your parents have already gone to bed. As you discard your coat and shoes by the door, you let that feeling of regret wash over you. Should you have said something? Invited her in? Said goodnight? Hugged her? Kissed her?

Fuck.

Relationships are complicated, and you two still barely know each other. You can't help that you want to know her. You want to see behind those fucking walls. You want to see through the cracks in her mask.

You think you want Natalie Scatorccio.

That isn't a surprise, not really, but the way your brain accepts the thought is.

Holy shit, you want Natalie Scatorccio.

Well. Isn't that an interesting development?

a/n: does anyone actually read the notes I leave? i could be plotting world domination or confessing to heinous crimes in here. anyways I regularly think about how natalie saw misty while she was tripping on lsd in the pilot and then misty ended up killing her. wild. bro had a fucking 25 year early premonition

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Can I request some headcanons for All Might, Aizawa and Nighteye taking care of their s/o when their sick? I have a wicked cold right now and this would be just amazing. Thank you so much for the work you do

Absolutely I can! Hope you feel better!

Characters: Yagi Toshinori/All Might, Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead, Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

Contents: gn!reader, sickness, medicine

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Toshinori is a little out of his depth the first time you come down with a bug. He's used to playing the big damn hero, swooping in and saving the day, beating the bad guys, and rescuing innocent civilians. But then the civvies et handed off to paramedics, doctors, family and friends. He's never had to look after someone for more than the few minutes it took to rescue them.

He's been in hospital himself with his injuries after the fight with All For One, which does kind of give him the reverse perspective, but it's not quite the same.

When Toshinori is unsure, Toshinori goes over the top. You'll be sitting on the couch, swaddled in a blanket, snoozing or trying to watch TV to distract yourself from your headache and stuffed-up sinuses. Meanwhile, Toshinori will be trundling in and out of the room, offering you endless cup soft tea, chicken soup, extra blankets, more Lemsip.

It's a little much, and each time you refuse one of his offerings, he sidles back into the kitchen and anxiously calls Recovery Girl.

"What is it this time, Toshinori."

"They didn't want the chicken soup! What do I do?"

"Oh, for the love of... Put them on the phone, Toshinori."

He sheepishly hands the phone to you, explaining who it is. When Recovery Girl finds out you just have a cold and aren't wheezing your last, she's even more exasperated than before. She scolds him to stop smothering you and just let you rest, much to your relief. As nice as it is to have Toshinori clucking around you like a big mother hen, offering you ten cups a tea an hour was getting to be a bit much. You felt bad having to refuse him.

It's much nicer just to have him hold you in your blanket swaddle on the couch, while you watch TV and cheesy movies that don't require any brain power to enjoy.

Please do occasionally ask him for things—soup, more tissues, an ice pack for your head—because it will make him feel needed. Toshi's got a hero complex.

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Aizawa's a teacher, so he's hardly a stranger to people being unwell. Teenagers might be not be the walking disease vectors that little kids are, but a school is still basically one giant petri dish, so he's not going to freak out when you're not well.

Don't worry though, he's not going to demand that you Plus Ultra! your way through your illness.

I know Aizawa comes across as a bit of a hardass, especially when it comes to his students, but he also prizes rationality. And logic dictates that when you're sick, you need rest so that your body has the time and resources it needs to fight off the illness.

He won't expect you to be up and at 'em while you're a snot-riddled Kleenex-fiend or while you're throwing your guts up. If you try to go to work, he'll make you call in sick. If you refuse, he'll do it for you, using his best Teacher Voice to browbeat your boss into submission.

"What kind of strategy meeting do you expect to have when they have a fever of 102?"

It is Aizawa, though, so he will expect you to look after yourself as much as you're able while you're sick. He's not going to be tenderly mopping your brow and telling you what a poor dear you are, or spoon-feeding you chicken soup just because you have a cold.

So, if you're the type to act completely helpless or like a little kid when you get ill, whining all day about how bad you feel, you won't get a lot of sympathy from him.

Also, if you refuse to take any medicine (barring medical/religious reasons) or do anything to relieve your symptoms, it frustrates him, because he sees it as martyring yourself for no reason.

"It's an aspirin, not poison."

He can't really call in sick to look after you—he is basically an essential worker—but he will make sure there is someone nearby who can respond to you in an emergency if you get worse or run out of medicine. And he'll have his phone on and check in with you throughout the day.

When he is home, he cooks or orders in, feeds the cats, tidies away your tissues. He pushes your hair back out of your face, calloused palm feeling for your temperature.

"I'm not used to looking like the well-rested one between us two."

The pair of you lay on the couch like a couple of bugs in cocoons. He in his sleeping bag, you in your blanket burrito, covered in cats.

Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

Sir Nighteye comes across as so stern and imposing that at first you might be tempted to hide your illness from him. You don't want to bother him with something as small and inconsequential as a cold or a stomach bug. He's a busy guy!

Too bad, Mirai's a very perceptive man even when he's not using his Quirk. If he can put together a plan to dig out a Yakuza gang and spend years being the brains behind All Might, then he can work out that you've got the sniffles.

Much like Aizawa, he's full to the brim with logical, practical advice about how to handle your illness. None of those old wives' tales about putting a slice of onion in your sock 'to suck out the impurities'.

He's a little less slammed than Aizawa, and can delegate to his sidekicks for a day or two while he stays home to keep an eye on you if you're really under the weather.

Despite his stern front, Mirai is a man who cares deeply for the people close to him, and he's not above tending to you.

However, there is one slightly odd thing—he keeps the TV tuned to stand-up at all times. You catch him watching the news on his laptop where he's working away at the kitchen table.

"Mirai, why don't you just watch it on the TV? Also, why has it been tuned to Tokyo Comedy Central for the last two days?"

Mirai looks at you, deadpan, and says solemnly, "Laughter is the best medicine."

Crickets.

"But it hurts to laugh," you protest, the wheeze in your voice clear.

"Very well. Laughter in conjunction with cough syrup."