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envy-of-the-apple · 7 months

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Exception

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

5.8k wc

Synopsis: You never bothered with Suguru's crush on you, knowing it would fade. After meeting him again years later, you make the horrible discovery that his feelings for you have only festered.

(Warnings: yandere, dark content, murder of a side character, slight gore, violence, rape/noncon, vaginal fingering, piv sex, unsafe sex)

When you were in your first year of college, you got a part-time job at a nearby cafe.

It was easy work. Make coffee. Bake some pastries. Attend to the customers. Nothing too unmanageable. It was an insignificant part of your life.

Then, Gojo and Geto came along.

Insufferably annoying. Especially, the loud one. They always caused a havoc in the cafe, often to the point where the manager had to physically kick them out. It was a turbulent two weeks, until one day you promised them if they kept it down, you'd let them try a few of your experimental pastries.

Really, it was your own damn fault. They started coming every day after that, mostly to bother you. The only reason management hadn't outright banned them was probably because Gojo made 50% of their entire revenue.

You warmed up to them eventually. Your fake smiles turned into more amused ones because of their antics. Once or twice, they'd get a good laugh out of you. You've heard rumors of a private, religious highschool nearby. You always assumed they were a byproduct of that.

Eventually, Gojo becomes Satoru. Geto becomes Suguru. Nice kids, if not a bit overzealous. Despite refusing to hang out with them after work, you had to admit, you grew a bit attached to them. You found yourself asking about their day, hiding sweets for the two of them, sometimes you'd even let them steal a croissant or two.

You bet the reason they hung around you was because, to them, you were some cool college student. Secretly, you found it a little flattering. Some days, their friendship was the highlight of your shift. It's clear Satoru is always the instigator, always looking like he's about to bounce off the walls (you have told him to lay off the sugar), it's not like Suguru was any better. He tried to act like he was the more refined part of the friendship. He often fails, at least in your eyes.

It becomes pretty apparent that Suguru had a crush on you. You're not sure when exactly you started to notice the bashful looks, the slight flush on his cheeks whenever you accidentally brush his hand, the fact that he visits far more often (even though Satoru has the sweet-tooth) but you can't unsee it now. It doesn't help that Satoru looks downright giddy whenever his friend talks to you, barely controlling his giggles in the background. His reaction and Suguru's irritation often start a few skirmishes right outside the cafe doors. You've told them multiple times to take their fights in the alley at least. They never listened.

For his sake, you don't acknowledge it, already knowing what it is. A schoolyard crush. Harmless, it'll pass. Eventually, when you're a distant memory to them, Satoru will tease him about it and Suguru will give a playful elbow nudge. Much to your relief, Suguru doesn't pull you to the side and confess. He's refined, in that way, never giving too much until you have the evidence and clues yourself.

It continued like that for months. And then, something changed.

They stopped coming around as much. Daily visits turned weekly. Weekly turned to every so often. Their energy felt off too. Satoru seemed the same as always, if not a bit more mellowed out. It was Suguru you mainly worried for. Each time he returned, he looked worse and worse. Darker circles. Eyes filled with exhaustion.

You pull him aside eventually, asking if anything is going on, asking if he's okay, asking if he wants to talk. As sincerely as you can, you tell him that you're here for him. He at least attempts to smile at that. When you press, he shakes his head.

"It's nothing," you both know he's lying, "it's just....it's nice to see that there is one exception."

A little while after that, they stop coming entirely. You notice, but you aren't able to focus on it. School gets harder, you're cutting back your work to focus on it. You don't even recognize Satoru at first when he walks in nearly a year later.

He's different. So much taller. Despite being a few years younger than you...he doesn't feel like a kid anymore. An easygoing smile is pulled on his face when he sees you, giving a lazy wave. You return it, though a bit hesitant. He talks to you as though no time has passed at all, asking what you made for him this time. He talks fast. His voice is too laid back. Too casual. Like he's avoiding something. You think you know what.

"Where's Suguru?" you ask when you glance behind Satoru for the third time, "I haven't seen him around lately."

He freezes, like he's been dreading that question ever since he came in. Finally, he shrugs, making a noncommital hum. His sunglasses obscure his eyes but it isn't enough to hide how cold he suddenly turned. Satoru seems to realize that too. His answer is pulled by reluctance.

"We don't talk anymore." He doesn't say anything more. You don't need him to.

When he pulls out his wallet, you tell him it's on the house. He looks at you then. His mouth opens, searching for the right words. He waits too long. His mask slips back into place.

Gojo grins at you, painfully fake.

"Take care of yourself, will ya?"

You never see him again after that. You know it's your fault.

You think about them every so often when you can, Suguru especially. He rests in the back of your mind like an old piece of furniture you can't bring yourself to throw out. Suguru sometimes haunts your dreams with his darkened eyes and the pure brokenness on his face. For some reason, you think you failed him somehow. You felt like you could have done more. Maybe, if you'd tried harder to reach out, things would have been different. Two boys wouldn't be utterly heartbroken.

Years pass by. You quit working at the cafe. You graduate college. You move cities. You get a job. Eventually, you settle into a nice apartment. You forget all about your days in that quaint little restaurant, your attention hogged by a couple of annoying high schoolers. You don't think about Satoru for years. You don't think about Suguru for years.

Until one day, when he calls your name in the street.

He was bigger now, towering over you with broad shoulders. His hair was longer, darker too, less of a green, more black. He's ditched his school uniform, trading it for a more casual outfit. It's his face that makes you hesitate before you use your voice, that same smile, physically at least. He looks the same, but then he doesn't.

"...Suguru?" It's a question because you're still not sure.

He smiles wider.

"Long time, huh?"

Somehow, your reunion culminates in a restaurant. You still feel out of it, somehow, like you're watching yourself in an out-of-body experience. Between the food and him, you're not sure if you can even believe it.

He tells you he heads a temple now. A pious man. You shouldn't be surprised, considering his education, but you never knew he was so invested in religion. The two of you converse about other meaningless things. The conversation becomes less stilted. More sincere. You learned your lesson from last time. You don't bring up Satoru unless he does.

Much to your disappointment, he doesn't.

Compared to yours, his life is so crazy. Not just with the temple. Suguru tells you he's a father now too. Adopted two little girls. He's barely 22. You can barely hold your disbelief, shaking your head as you take another sip of your coffee.

"In any case," you say when the conversation draws to a lull, "I'm just really glad you're happy, Suguru. You deserve it."

When Suguru gives you a questioning look, you continue.

"The last time we saw each other, you looked miserable."

His eyes widen in realization before a laugh bubbles out of his throat. Deep, rich like chocolate.

"Back then, I was going through a lot." He sighs. "I was figuring out what I wanted. It...it was a tough time for me."

You nod along, hoping you aren't forcing him to pry. However, the Suguru you're faced with now doesn't seem like that type of person anymore. He won't give if you press. He talks on his own terms. You never once thought of him as a pushover, but he's less open now. Perhaps it's because he's no longer a child.

Suguru smiles then, a little more sincere than his first.

"You know...I've always wanted to thank you."

You tilt your head. "What for?"

He plays with his empty cup like he's searching for the answer himself. "You gave me hope when no one else did. Everyone was so quick to tell me if I was wrong or right."

He leans back on his chair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling, "Other humans, they're always so enraptured by their own lives. You were the only person who reached out. At least, who cared enough to."

The guilt from years ago slipped back into your throat. So he had been suffering. You should have done more. He was just a kid. They both had been. You could have done something. Maybe you could have saved a little more.

His hand finds yours on the table. They're rough, calloused. You can feel the scars. He squeezes your fingers.

"Thank you," he murmurs, "For being an exception."

You squeeze back.

It's a tumultuous friendship, at first. It's much like a burn. Sensitive, it hurts at first. The wound is too fresh. Eventually, dead skin and memories fade away. You find yourself texting him. Once a week. Maybe a little more, if you get brave enough.

Once, he sends you a picture of a white cat lounging in a sunbeam.

looks like Satoru, he types.

(You stare at the caption for a long longer than necessary.)

It does, you send back.

You visit his temple once. He invited you, actually. A free tour, he had joked. It was beautiful. A large expansive garden filled with all types of flowers. The courtyard felt like it stretched for miles. That was just the outskirts of the temple. The building was something else entirely. A large ceiling. Expansive walls. White pillars that keep going higher and higher and higher.

You notice his followers are everywhere. Most carry the same smile on their face. Bright, happy, cheery, but too strained. Like it's a job for them. It feels weird to say, but he fits nicely here. You think that because this wasn't the place you thought Suguru would end up. He dons the traditional clothing perfectly. Like they were made for him. They probably were, considering how high his reputation was.

If he hadn't had the same face, the same hair color. You wouldn't have recognized him at all. He's managed to replace every single thing in his life with something new. It doesn't go unnoticed by you that you're the only thing he keeps from the past. A momento of sorts. You're a keepsake, for him. You don't mind the symbolism. You've always been easily flattered.

You just failed to realize that not all of his feelings had changed.

It was in front of your house. After, yet another visit to the temple (much at Suguru's insistence), he'd offered to walk you home. You would have declined if it wasn't so dark out. In the end, you accept his offer.

"The girls have come to like you," Suguru says after a lull of pleasant silence. When you glance at him, you find his eyes on you.

"Have they?" you prod.

In all honestly, you didn't think they liked you at all at first. You don't have that much experience with young children, but you found it odd how unnerved Nanako and Mimiko seemed to get around you, practically hiding behind their father's figure, peeking out with untrusting eyes. Suguru had to gently coax them out with soft words, insisting that you were a close friend of his, you were 'different'.

"Yes, they talk about you all the time," he continues, rolling his eyes in affection, "Mimiko especially gets very animated."

Your heart skips a beat at his answer. You never felt one way or the other about children, but it felt nice when two little girls felt so highly about you. Those two especially.

"It must be from all the sweets I bribed them with," you say, jokingly, "Please tell me I didn't cause them any stomach aches."

He laughs, light and pretty.

"It's not that," he responds, "it's because of you, mostly. You're different from the others."

You smile, but it's half-hearted, an attempt more than anything. It takes you a while for you to work up for the question. For some reason, you feel a bit nervous, like you're stepping on something you shouldn't be.

"Different," you start, "you keep saying that. What does that mean? What am I different from?"

He stops, just at the entrance of your flat. Suguru's fingers drum on his pants. You stare at him. He stares right back.

"You are different, in so many different ways," he says, though it feels as though he's speaking to himself, rather than you.

He takes a step forward. Tiny, he barely even moved. And yet, the distance between the two of you has vanished completely.

"You've always been. Different from everyone else. The only one." You can't tell if he cut himself off, or if there was truly nothing else to say.

It was barely a kiss. His lips brushed against yours, barely touching. Soft, like he cherished you the most out of all his possessions. The gentleness of it all is enough for you to freeze.

Then his hand curls around your waist, and you jolt back into your body.

You splay your hands on his chest, pushing him away until you have enough momentum to step back. His loose hold on you falls away. You can't look at him, even when you can feel his stare burn into you.

"Suguru," you say, because you're mind is still running to catch up to your heart, "I-we-"

Your name being called stops your babbling. You don't think he saw, god you hoped he hadn't. When you look over, he's smiling, so you don't think he did. He was never one to hide his feelings. Still, you step away from Suguru, ignoring how stiff the man had become.

"Hey," you say, mostly out of relief because you couldn't deal with this anymore. When he wraps you into a hug and a chaste kiss, you wordlessly accept. Suguru's gaze on your back only gets stronger.

"Who's this?" he asks, gesturing at Suguru. Your smile falters as you glance at Suguru. His face was blank. He wasn't even smiling anymore as he continued to stare at your man.

"A friend," you say before Suguru can make this already worse, "and he was just leaving."

"Oh," he says, before smiling down at you. Delightfully oblivious.

"We'll talk later, okay Suguru?" You send Suguru a hurried smile before dragging him into your shared flat.

You lock the door behind you. He says something just then, you laugh, trying so hard not to sense Suguru's presence through the door. You don't think he leaves. Not for a good long while.

You don't speak to Suguru, after that.

You wince whenever you see his name through your contact list now, as though even seeing a remnant of him is painful. You don't go to the temple anymore. Your communication with the girls turns nonexistent.

Suguru hasn't said anything to you either. The line has grown dead both ways.

You feel guilty, even though you know it wasn't your fault, you still can't help but wonder if you could have done something different. Did you do something that made him think you were interested? You probably had, knowing how unaware you could be, sometimes. You couldn't help but feel ecstatic when the two of you reconnected again. You'd been so excited for Suguru, happy for him because he'd finally found his way. You didn't know he still liked you after all these years. It was a schoolyard crush, at least, it was supposed to be.

Looking back, you didn't think you'd even told Suguru that you were already seeing someone. One blunder after a blunder.

It must have been embarrassing for him, you can't help but think. Even when he was younger, Suguru had always held onto his pride dearly. You don't know if your friendship could ever be the same after this, but you'd like to extend the olive branch. If he'd take it.

You tell your boyfriend about the incident eventually. You know it's not your fault, but you still feel like it is. He takes it well, once you explain, looking at you sweetly.

"I could tell something was going on between you and him," he says, "but thanks for telling me."

"You aren't mad?" you ask, half-afraid of the answer.

"At you? Course not. Him, however"- he made a swing motion with his fist "-he does something like that again and I'll punch his lights out."

You laugh, knowing it's a joke, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He beams.

It takes a week of radio silence to forget about the mishap. You're humming a song you've forgotten the lyrics to when you arrive at your apartment. Your boyfriend said that he was coming home early tonight. You'd planned something quiet for the evening. A movie, cheap drinks.

"Welcome home." Suguru grins. You freeze.

He sits on the couch, splayed out like he belonged there. He's not wearing his priest garment, now garbed with a simple shirt and jeans. It takes a minute for you to figure out what you're looking at. Slowly, you close the door behind you.

"Hey," you say, hoping your tone doesn't indicate just off-put by this encounter you are.

Suguru doesn't seem to mind your reluctance.

"He let me in." Suguru points to somewhere behind you. Oh, your boyfriend is probably in the bathroom. "He was such a nice man. You were very lucky."

"Thank you," you find yourself saying, "I am."

His smile grows bigger, and you wonder if there's a joke you aren't let in on. Like he's saying something that's going right above your head.

When you take a glance behind you, your partner is nowhere to be seen. It makes you wonder if you should say something to Suguru right now. Mend the bridge that's shattered between you. Currently, he seemed to be in a good mood.

"Suguru," you start, taking a tiny step forward. You twiddle with your fingers.

"Listen, I'm really sorry for how things went the last time we met. I just-" He hushes you, putting a finger to his lips.

"You shouldn't air out your affairs in front of him like that," he tells you, "you might hurt his feelings."

What? You look behind you again. Nothing.

Suguru laughs. It sounds off. Wordlessly, he points behind you again but angles his finger a tiny bit higher. You follow his direction.

Immediately, you wish you hadn't.

He's in pieces, scattered all over the ceiling. A hand is above the door, a leg is above the kitchen. It's like his appendages were chopped before being glued onto the ceiling. There's no blood, just body parts.

The worst part was that he was still alive. His head was still attached to his torso, the only part of him that was still intact. His mouth was open, his eyes were wide, and it took you a second that he was trying to tell you something. Repeating a word over and over.

Run.

Your hand covers your mouth as you continue to stare up at him. What was left of him. You think your knees are threatening to give before Suguru's holding you up. You can feel him lead you towards the couch, sitting you down in the plush mattress. He curls an arm around you, letting out a sigh.

"I meant what I said." Suguru adjusts your hair. "He was such a nice man, for a monkey anyway."

It doesn't occur to you that Suguru had done this until he speaks. You'd known Suguru said he performed exorcisms in his temple. You didn't-you couldn't-

"You?" you can barely push the wavering words out, "you-how-Suguru-"

He hushes you, drawing you closer to his body. You're completely dwarfed by him as he rests his head on your neck, breathing in your scent. You are barely coherent, sucking in air as your voice dissolves into sobs.

"I would have liked it if things hadn't turned out this way," he sighs, "but I don't believe it would have turned out any differently."

His tone is almost pitying.

"You may be the exception, but you are still one of them. Unaware of the true hierarchy." Suguru hums.

"That's alright. It wasn't your fault. You were simply born this way," he continues, "I don't mind teaching you."

You wiggle, trying your hardest to get out of his grip. Suguru only clicks his tongue. A harsh grip on your waist is enough to still you. You can't understand what's going on, maybe you never will, but you know one thing. You let a monster back into your life. Geto Suguru was not the same person you knew when you were younger.

Or perhaps, he was always this way. He was just better at hiding it, back then.

"I'm sorry," you finally let out, "Suguru, I'm-I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever-whatever you want. Anything just please please please-"

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for him," Suguru doesn't sound too apologetic, "though, I could put him out of his pain. Would you like that?"

You didn't need him to elaborate. Suguru would kill him. Or perhaps he was already dead. His moving eyes, his twitching lips, were all just muscle memory. The last of his brain synapses. There was no science, no magic, that could bring him back from this.

And maybe, that tiny selfish part of you wanted to stop seeing his mangled body.

You nod and you can feel Suguru's grin. He snaps his fingers. The thing disappears, vanishes into mist.

"All gone!" Suguru declares. "There. Isn't that better?"

You wince when he touches your face, brushing away the tears. You're too scared to do anything more. You don't fight when he kisses your neck. You don't fight when he kisses your jaw. You don't fight when he kisses your lips.

It's with the same gentleness as the last time he'd kissed you, right outside of your apartment. Soft, warm, loving.

You start sobbing then. Ugly, heaving, heartbroken. He takes it in stride, humming as he pushes your body down until your back is pressed on the couch. His lips brush your damp cheek.

"There's no need to be afraid." Through your tears, you can see him smiling down at you. "The worst has passed. I'll take care of you from now on."

The worst part about all of this is how honest he sounds. Like he truly believes he's doing this for your good. It makes you wonder who the delusional one is. Him or you.

He's tuts in sympathy as you lay there, shivering underneath him.

"You must be so confused, poor thing." He tilts his head, the back of his fingers stroking your cheeks. "I should explain, shouldn't I? Unfortunately, I'm more interested in other things right now."

You must look horrible, but Suguru doesn't seem to mind, bending down, melding your lips with his. He sighs, like he'd waited eons for this. You stiffen when you feel his hands play with the band of your skirt. As if he can feel your beginnings of struggle, he pulls back, staring you down. Brown, almost black, eyes peer down at you. There's a hint of a warning curling on his lip.

You still immediately. If he could do that, what could he do to you?

"None of that," he chides, and yet he's so painfully gentle about it, "be good."

What was he? How did he do this? How could he? You want to ask them all but you can only get one out when you lift your head, getting your voice to work.

"Why?"

You don't know what you're asking. He clearly does. Another soft smile. You wish you could tear it off his face.

"You were always the exception, even back then," He says quietly into the stale air of the apartment. His eyes drift and you wonder if he's remembering the you all those years ago, secretly passing pastries to him and Satoru, giggling at jokes only a highschooler could make. "The only one of the humans who didn't utterly disgust me."

Fingers reach for the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your bare legs.

"And it's natural, isn't it? To protect the exceptions, the rarities of the world," he says, "To keep them away from the impure."

You start crying again. He patiently hushes you, kissing away your tears. This time, you don't bother putting up a fight. You just squeeze your eyes closed, flinching when he reaches to your inner thighs, feeling the cotton of your panties. His breath hitches. So does yours.

He bypasses the cloth with two dexterous fingers. When he touches the skin, you flinch, trying to squeeze your thighs closed. It doesn't help. Suguru leans forward, you can feel his breath on your cheek as you shiver underneath him. He finds your clit, teasing it with a calloused thumb. You think you're mouthing it, even when you can't bring yourself to say it. Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me.

He doesn't listen. You don't know if he heard it or not. It didn't matter, either way. It wasn’t like he was planning to stop.

Despite how much you don’t want this, your body doesn’t listen. His touch is gentle, soothing on your pussy despite the horrors you’ve seen him do. It doesn’t take long for your cunt to adjust, dripping.

There’s a satisfied sigh above you and you know Suguru had felt it too.

One finger pushes into you. You gasp, curling your back, unprepared but Suguru’s giving a pleasant hum, easing you into it. Despite how humiliating this entire situation is, your one reprieve is being able to bury your head into his neck, keeping yourself there as he continues to have his way with your body. You can feel him kiss the crown of your head, an action that completely juxtapositions another finger entering your wet hole.

He’s gentle, but not slow. He fingerfucks you with earnestness, curling his fingers when your walls tighten around him. Your crying is interrupted by the reluctant moans and gasps every time he presses deeper into you, finding a spot that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You bit your lip, keeping the noises inward. He tuts at that.

“Don’t be shy,” he coos in your ear, “it’s okay to enjoy it. I want you to.”

As if to highlight his words, he gives another particularly intense push, you wince when you can hear the wet squelch of his fingers.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Suguru asks, “I could always be this nice with you.” You let out a squeak when his thumb presses against your clit, unable to keep it in. Suguru gives a breathy laugh.

His other hand starts to explore, reaching up to your button-up, flicking them off with a single-experienced hand. The bra you wore is barely seductive, but Suguru’s tracing the ends of it anyway, touching the fabric just by your skin before pushing the undergarment down.

Whether it’s from the air or his fingers fucking your pussy, your tits are already sensitive. You let out a breathy whine when Suguru grips on of them too hard, squeezing the fat in his large hands.

“So sweet for me.” You can hear the smile on his lips.

Everything becomes too much, and before you can think, your hand is shooting down, grabbing onto his wrist, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Your other is pushing against his shoulder. He barely seemed to even notice, holding you down with his weight, thrusting in his fingers all the way to the knuckle.

“Suguru I-” It’s supposed to be another plea for him to stop, but your weak voice calling out his name only seems to excite him further. His thumb dances on your swollen clit, his fingers never relenting until he’s pushing you higher and higher until you fall.

White hot electric pleasure snaps within you, forcing your body to jolt, as you curl up from the sofa. You think he’s saying something, words of comfort as though he could be any crueler, but you’re not listening. You came so hard you almost forget where you are, who you’re with. You can feel Suguru watching until you fall against the cushion again, utterly spent. Your grip slackens against his wrist, before falling away completely.

“See? Didn’t I say I’ll take care of you?” You don't even have the energy to glare at him.

He’s giving another laugh, kissing your cheek before he’s leaning back. His fingers slip out of you, and then there’s a sucking sound. You can’t help it, blinking open your eyes. Suguru stares back at you, eyes half-mast, a pink tongue flicking out to lick at his fingers before he puts them in his mouth completely, swallowing down the evidence of your orgasm. A lewd moan escapes him, muffled. You once again wished you hadn’t looked.

You’re already expecting it, but you still flinch when you hear the zipper loud and clear. He moves his jeans low enough to pull out his cock. He’s already hard, a bead of precum right at the tip as he gives a few cursory pumps. He’s big, you blearily realize. Despite the mind-numbing orgasm he’d just given you, you doubt it’d be enough to even take him.

“It won’t fit,” you find yourself whispering.

Suguru just hums in acknowledgement, giving you a knowing look as he finishes tugging off your panties. The fabric slides off your shaking leg before dropping onto the carpeted floor.

It’s too late for a fight, but you’re rising anyway, pressing your hands against the cushions, trying to create some space. Suguru is quick to shut it down again, leaning back into you as he palms himself some more.

“You’ll be alright,” he assures but it doesn’t help the panic the fear in your soul, “I cherish you too much to break you.”

With little effort, he spreads your thighs. His cock rubs against you once, twice, before entering your throbbing pussy.

Already it’s too much. He’s thick, stretching out your walls, threatening to rip you in half. You close your eyes again, squeezing them shut as the pain starts to edge a little too close to bloody. Helpless, your hand finds his shoulder, not pushing but digging your nails into his shirt. He purrs when you grip him tighter, moving until he’s seated fully into you.

He stays like that, keeping himself there as your walls squeeze him tighter. It’s almost a relief that it ended, but now, he’s taken everything.

“Look at me.”

His voice is rough, almost a rasp, an order. You find yourself obeying. Through your tears, you blink up at him, finding his gaze.

He stares down at you, a look of satisfaction in his eyes and you don’t think you are yours anymore.

He pulls back, your cunt tries to suck him back in, but he drags his cock out anyway until only his head is barely inside.

“Perfect,” Suguru murmurs as though it’s a secret not even you should hear, “absolutely perfect.”

You cry out when he pushes back in. It’s a gentle pace, slow and steady like he’s easing you into it. He’s being kind, you finally realize, a thought that makes your skin crawl. It’s so much worse than if he had been nasty. Harsh and biting with thrusts that would make your body sore and weak afterwards. If he was abusive, not caring about you, just his own pleasure. You wish Suguru was being mean, being cruel. At least then, you wouldn’t like it.

Despite the unexpected size, your body is adjusting. Pain ripples into reluctant pleasure, numbing your mind as his hips meet yours. It gets even worse when Suguru leans down, biting and sucking at your tits, enough for there to leave a mark. Something that will bruise and remind you of what he did.

“You don’t know how long I wanted this,” he’s saying somewhere above you but your head is swimming and you can’t focus where you want to, “how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

Suguru sits up again, grabbing one of your legs, hiking your hips up so his cock can go that much deeper inside of you. You babble something that you yourself can’t decipher. Suguru’s lips curl into another painfully soft smile.

“Ever since highschool,” he’s confessing like he’s a sinner and you’re his God but you know that isn’t true because what sort of god would be humiliated like this? “Remember that apron you wore?”

His hand reaches over, spreading over your pussy, stretching the fatty part of your cunt so he can have a better view of him disappearing inside of you.

“I always wondered what you’d look like wearing nothing but that on, spread out on the counter for me.”

He flicks your clit, and for the second time that day, you can feel yourself crashing. As though he can sense it, his thrusts shorten, grinding against your pussy and there’s a hand catching your chin, forcing you to look.

Suguru’s smile is gone, replaced by a snarl that promises to eat you alive. His eyes are blown wide, and he’s gritting his teeth, barely holding control by a hair.

“Come for me.”

You’re too far gone to do anything but listen.

You stutter in his grasp, arching your back, cumming with a breathy whine. It’s like a tide, pushing you out into sea, refusing to take you in. Unconsciously, the leg he holds tightens around his waist as you pulse around his cock.

He follows after, barely holding himself together, not when your cunt is milking him for all its’ worth. There’s a few particularly harsh thrusts before something warm and sticky fills your battered pussy before he's falling into you, pressing your body against the soft cushions.

You lay there, panting with him on top of you. Slowly, you come back to yourself, feeling your arms your legs. Your brain resets, and you’re suddenly remembering that you have a murderer’s cock inside of you.

Suguru’s face is buried in your neck. He gives a shaky kiss to your jaw; another on the corner of your lips. You can only stare at the ceiling, where the remnants of a body used to be.

"You know, the girls have always wanted a mother," Suguru's saying into your skin.

"I'm sure they will be very pleased with my choice."

#yandere #yandere jjk #x reader #dark content #dark jjk #non con touching #tw:noncon #dark geto suguru #yandere geto suguru #tw:gore

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beautification-tales · 7 months

Text

The Deal

Marsha's heart thundered as she took in the sight of her former best friend, Tom, sitting across from her in the crowded campus coffee shop. It had been weeks since they'd last spoken, and the air between them was thick with tension. Marsha took a deep breath, summoning the courage to confront him about why he'd stopped talking to her. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just the usual drama that seemed to plague every friendship at that age. There had to be a reason why Tom had suddenly gone cold, why he'd stopped returning her calls and texts. As she watched him sip his coffee, she wondered if he would ever tell her the truth.

Marsha couldn't help but remember the days when she and Tom were inseparable. They'd been outcast nerds in high school, bonding over their shared love of sci-fi novels and video games. Tom had always been the energetic one, while she'd been content to sit in the background, watching him shine. Even when they'd both started attending college, they'd managed to see each other at least weekly. But then, out of nowhere, it all seemed to change. One day, he simply stopped responding to her messages, and she was left feeling hurt and confused.

As she stared at him across the table now, she couldn't help but notice that he looked a bit different. He still was wearing glasses but his style had changed and so did his body. Marsha almost gasped as she saw that his arms were as thick and full of muscle. Tom’s face had familiar features but his jawline was more pronounced. Marsha felt her heart beat faster as she noticed his perfect smile as he noticed her approach.

"Hey, Marsha," he said softly, his voice deeper now. "What's up? Haven't seen you around in a while." Marsha’s face became red with anger. “Tom… I literally texted you every day!” she exclaimed. Tom looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. "Look, I'm sorry," he finally said. "Things have been... complicated."

Marsha raised an eyebrow, not buying his excuse. "Complicated? Tom, you haven't even told me what happened! We were best friends, remember? Why did you just stop talking to me?" Tom sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I guess... I met someone."

“No…I deserve better than that… plus it’s been like two months. How did you meet someone and change so much?”

Tom looked away again, his face flushing slightly. "It's complicated," he repeated. "I joined a gym, and it’s like I went through a second puberty. It’s like my body always wanted to be like this.” He flexed his arm and smiled. “Let’s just say it wasn’t hard to find a girlfriend after that.”

Marsha felt a pang of hurt deep in her chest as she looked at him. He did look good, she had to admit. But it wasn't fair for him to just drop her like a bad habit. "So, what?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're just going to lie to me like I’m stupid? Why aren’t you telling me the truth?”

Marsha knew Tom too well and knew there was something he was keeping from her.

“Tom who is this?” A woman asked as she sat next to Tom.

"Oh, hey babe," Tom said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "This is Marsha, my math tutor ." She glared at him. "We were just talking about an upcoming math test," he explained, trying to sound casual. "Marsha was just wondering why I haven't been returning her calls and stuff."

"Oh, hi," the woman said, smiling awkwardly at Marsha. "I'm Amy.I can take the blame for that. I have been keeping him very busy lately." She placed her arm under Tom’s and leaned against him. Amy was gorgeous. She had long, wavy blonde hair that fell over her shoulders and deep blue eyes. She was curvy in all the right places, and she had a confident air about her that made Marsha feel self-conscious.

Marsha’s lip quivered as she wanted to expose Tom’s lie but he looked at her with an expression that she knew well. He was begging her to keep quiet. Amy seemed to be oblivious to it as she continued to talk. “You know how big dumb jocks are. Neglecting their studies so they can please their girlfriends…all night long.” Tom spit out some coffee as he blushed. Amy smiled and put her hand in his lap.

“Babe c’mon we’re in public." Tom’s eyes fluttered as Amy massaged his thigh. Amy cupped her other hand and whispered something into Tom’s ear. Tom squirmed in his chair as Amy spoke again. “Well I gotta go but it was nice meeting you Martha.”

“Marsha” Tom and Marsha said in unison. “ Right, Mar-sha, Byeee.” Amy got up sauntered away and looked back at Tom hoping he was watching her leave. She smiled and blew him a kiss when she saw that he was. Tom turned back to Marsha. “Look I have to go that booty calls.” Marsha scowled in disgust.

“Tom! I deserve better than this! You just lied to me and now to your so called “girlfriend”… actually you’ve been lying to her for a while right? Big dumb jock? You were top of our class!” Marsha exclaimed, anger filling her voice. Tom looked around as people were now looking at their table. He leaned in and whispered, "Look, I'm sorry. It's complicated. Can we just not make a scene?" Marsha took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Fine. But I want answers. You owe me that much."

“Fine meet me at my dorm room tonight. I’ll explain everything… I promise. Now… I…have to take care of this.” Tom got up from his seat as Marsha gasped. Tom’s bulge in his pants was extremely noticeable as Marsha realized more than just his muscles had grown. Marsha’s face turned red as she couldn’t keep her eyes off it as he slowly walked outside. Marsha watched him embrace Amy outside as they walked with purpose.

That evening, Marsha made her way to Tom's dorm room, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. The door was ajar, and she could hear muffled laughter coming from within. She took a deep breath and pushed it open, steeling herself for whatever might be waiting on the other side.

The room was lit by soft lamplight, casting an intimate glow over the two figures on the bed. Tom and Amy were curled up together, their bodies entwined as they kissed passionately. Marsha finally grunted to get their attention. Amy quickly covered herself under the covers. “Ick, get out! Don’t people know how to knock in this building? Tom why do you keep forgetting to lock the door?” Marsha walked out as Amy covered herself with Tom’s bedsheet. Marsha stood in the hall and listened to Amy yell at Tom.

“She’s a weirdo Tom. What tutor just walks into a room without knocking first? I don’t care if you’re overdue for a session. She clearly has a crush on you. Jealous? Of that mousy geek? You know what Tom? Have fun doing equations and shit.” Amy opened the door fully dressed. “He’s all yours Mar-SHA” Amy gave an annoyed look and rushed past Marsha in a huff. Tom was wearing shorts sitting on his bed. The smell of sex and sweat were present even with the window open.

“You couldn’t knock?” Tom looked up at Marsha. She took a seat and faced him, “You couldn’t close the door and lock it while you fucked her?” She quipped back. Tom shrugged, he leaned back placing both hands on his head. He let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“C..Can you put a shirt on?” Marsha almost blushed as she found herself unable to stop looking at his bare chest. “You like what you see? So much better than that skinny chest you remember.” Marsha stayed quiet for a moment not wanting to admit her lust for her friend’s new developments.

“Don’t try to distract me from what I want to know Tom. Why did you ghost me? How did you change in just 2 months? Why did you lie to Amy?” Tom took a deep breath, looking her straight in the eye, and finally answered, "I didn't mean to ghost you, but I was offered a deal... a chance to change everything. To become the best of the best. And it came with a price."

"What price?" Marsha demanded, her curiosity piqued despite herself. Tom hesitated, glancing around to make sure they were alone. When he spoke, his voice was low and urgent. "I made a deal with a succubus . She offered me this body, this strength... everything I ever wanted in exchange for something I can’t tell you."

He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I had to do something. I was nothing, just a nobody. And now look at me. I'm popular, I'm dating Amy... I'm happy."

Marsha could almost feel tears welling up in her eyes. "But what about me, Tom? What about our friendship? Did you just forget about me?"

Tom reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "No, I didn't forget. I just... I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want you to think I was some freak. I was scared." He hesitated again before continuing. "Look, I want you to know that I'm still the same person inside. I still care about you, and I want to be your friend. But... there are things I can't change now. This is who I am, and I have to live with it."

Her heart ached at his words, but she couldn't deny the truth in them. She squeezed his hand back, trying to reassure him that everything would be okay. "I understand, Tom. I'm just... I'm just surprised, that's all. It's a lot to take in."

They sat there in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, suddenly, Tom stood up and pulled her to her feet. He leaned down, his face inches from hers, and kissed her gently on the lips. It was chaste, and sweet, and filled with the same friendship and affection they'd always shared. When he pulled back, they were both blushing.

“Ungh no! Not now.” Tom exclaimed as Marsha felt a poke in her pelvis. She stepped back in shock.

“I’m so sorry … it’s a side effect of this new body. It has a mind of its own.”

Marsha felt a surge of confidence. “Or maybe it knows what you want.” She shot him a playful smirk. She instantly put her hand in his shorts as Tom groaned. “Whoa… Marsh..” Tom tried to pull away but Marsha quickly gripped his member. “Shhhh , it all makes sense now. The ghosting, the bimbo girlfriend, the open door.” She increased her speed after lowering his shorts.

“Ungh, fuck ! Yes it was fun making you jealous.” Tom gasped as Marsha continued to stroke him, her hand moving up and down his length. Her touch was hot and wet, and it felt so good. He arched his back, pressing his hips forward, wanting more of her. He reached down and cupped her breast through her shirt, feeling the softness of her skin and the hardness of her nipple.

“If Amy could see you now… she would be the jealous one… what did she call me? A mousy geek?” She sneered as she continued to stroke him, her other hand reaching down to play with his balls. Tom couldn't help but moan, the pleasure building inside him.

“Marsha… where did you unnnh… so good.” Tom groaned, his hips bucking against her hand. His body felt like it was on fire, and he was so close to cumming. He wanted to give her what she wanted, to make her feel the same pleasure she was giving him. Tom also couldn’t explain why Marsha’s touch felt even better than anything he had ever felt.

“You did this for me didn’t you? Made a deal with a succubus for a sexy body, for this amazing cock? Mmm look at that precum…. Makes my mouth water.” She leaned down and licked his tip, tasting the salty fluid. Tom cried out, his hips jerking involuntarily as his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. Marsha giggled knowing she had complete control over him. “Ungh the power! Is that how it feels like when you’re with Amy? Knowing their addicted to you? Well let me tell you Tom, it feels so much better when there are true feelings involved. When they're desperate for it. Trust me Tom I want all of you, mind and body. I want you to cum all over me Tom. I want to feel you inside me.” Marsha quickly got on her knees and began sucking. “W..wait Marsha! You don’t know what you’re doing. The succubus said women won’t be able to resist me… so I stayed away.” Marsha’s head continued to Bob up and down on his cock.

She popped off and looked up at him while using both hands to pump his member. “Is it because you love me?” Tom looked down with a face of concern “I didn’t want to take advantage unnn fuck”

“I want you to say it then I want you to cum” she pumped harder as Tom began to twitch.

“I…I love you. I’ve always loved you!” Tom shuddered as he felt his balls begin to empty as cum purged from his cock. Marsha smiled as it covered her face then immediately evaporated.

Tom jerked back in surprise. “A normal woman wouldn’t be able to resist you. A succubus however…. Well they can love you for you. Oh mmmm fuck that felt good to say out loud.” Marsha tilted her head back and began to moan.

A purple flame enveloped Marsha as her mousy brown hair turned a bright orange. The pale skin became tan and her puny stature grew immediately. The clothes morphed into black lingerie as her hips widened and breasts blossomed. Tom gulped as before him now was the buxom, gorgeous succubus who he made a deal with. Marsha panted as if she had just been running a race, her breasts heaving up and down.

“Well I guess I have some explaining to do”

-Marsha will return-

#beautification #transformation #breast expansion #bimboification #f2f transformation #ass expansion #slutification #male transformation

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figs-and-cigs · 12 days

Text

Been having a lot of thoughts lately. My last post was about watching some of my friends going through break ups, and my views on why Hierarchy is important to me.

Another thing that's coming to mind is my thoughts on the Relationship Cycle (I made a post about that a long while back) and thinking about how it relates to my recent break up - and wondering how it might relate to the unfortunate situation my friends are going through.

I just read a post about a married couple who jumped into a triad (🙄 a terrible poly tale as old as time). They'd been with the new girlfriend for 4 months. The couple planned a dinner date with a family friend, whom the new girlfriend doesn't like. The new girlfriend demanded the couple cancel and spend time with her instead. When the couple didn't cancel their dinner plans, the new girlfriend became angry and withdrew and seemingly expected they make amends for this perceived slight.

One of the comments said something along the lines of, "4 months is too early to have a full blown relationship with someone. I would still be in the vetting and dating phases. It's really important to get to know someone before integrating them into my life to prevent problems like this from happening. It's wild for someone I just met to think they have any say in who my friends are and who I make dinner plans with."

One of the first things my ex had asked of me when we started seeing each other was to call her everyday. While I stated that I'm more of a texter and not a fan of phone calls, she insisted it was important to her. I really liked her and was feeling so much NRE (new relationship energy) I agreed I'd try to call her everyday. The only issue I saw with this, at the time, was when I missed a day. I had a high chronic pain day, and then having a kiddo to take care after school, I just didn't think about it on spoonless days. Her immediate response when I called the following day was, "I'm disappointed you didn't call yesterday." I explained my lack of spoons and forgetfulness on pain days, and how I'm not a phone person. "Aren't I allowed to be disappointed?" Uhm... well yes...

She and I had two dates a week, Weekday coffee, and Saturday nights - we also saw each other at two weekly meet ups every week. So needless to say we began seeing each other a lot. I had said from the beginning Saturday nights were temporary. When my Hubby's schedule changed, he and I would have Saturday nights as that's the best night for a babysitter. She's still likely see me at events on those nights, I could arrange occasional overnights on Fridays. She brushed off the conversation repeatedly, and when the schedule did change it all came to head and she responded very oddly. I don't need to dive into that again but the relationship ended.

So a few days back in talking to my poly friend who is going through a divorce. One of the reoccurring themes in her drama is how her husband prioritized his two newish girlfriends over her (and child). While she insists it's because they're ethical and non-hierarchial it often felt like the one girlfriend had a lot of control and decision making for the husband's life.

In my own thought organizing rant to my husband I shared that it baffles me that people look down on hierarchy so much. But even in a non-hierarchial situation, the thought of someone new coming into someone's life and imposing huge changes on an established relationship, their schedule (especially with children concerned), and their day to day life is alarming.

It then dawned on me how manipulated I felt after some time processing my break up. I had agreed to do something I wasn't entirely comfortable and fully capable of. Calling someone on the phone every day. My husband very thoughtfully said something along the lines of, "she really set you up to put forth a lot of effort in the beginning and to integrate yourself into her life. Not just with the daily phone call, but the insistence that you plan for multiple dates every week. Especially without the consideration of your unpredictable chronic health issues, and your family."

I had to take a lot of deep breaths to ponder that. Only a couple years ago I had put the breaks on a relationship because he was moving too fast. Within three weeks it felt like he was acting like we were married and wanted information on every bit of my day to day life, my health issues, my daily struggles. There wasn't any fun to be had there with a new relationship - and more so, I realized I didn't KNOW this guy and he assumed he KNEW me. It was three weeks, we didn't know each other.

And in the 4-5 months of dating that girl, I don't think we knew each other either. Yet she has become so integrated. She met my family, she knew most of my friends. She came to a speaker event I did. She was part of my day to day. Yet at the end it was clear she couldn't even attune to my way of communicating. While I felt I had made a ton of effort, attempts to fit molds of her requests, and flexed my boundaries... I don't think either of us really knew who we were or if we aligned.

I'm not angry at her. I'm more frustrated with myself for not seeing this until months after the relationship ended.

And I see it all the time in relationships! Poly and Monogamous alike. People jump into each other's lives so wholly and completely without taking the very important time to get to know each other and build a foundation. With my husband I had waited 6 months before allowing him to meet my kid. We waited 2 years to move in together. We took time before integrating our finances, and eventually marriage.

Circling back around to the topic of Hierarchy. Again, we are not hierarchical in the sense that we have rules for other relationships - those relationships can progress emotionally in any way they happen to. Even during my chaotic months long stent with "HER" my husband said nothing against it. When we talk about being each other's Primaries, it's in regard to the fact that our lives are so fully integrated with each other. We're raising a kid, we share a home and bills, our schedules need to work FOR the relationship and kiddo and laundry, and car repairs, and medical issues and bills.

While there's plenty of room to love and enjoy other people, the agreement is that we can't allow those relationships to negatively impact our overall family needs. After all, we have years long foundation. That's not a guarantee things will never change, things are unpredictable and things can happen - but there's at least some definitive clarity in how things work.

I read and posted an article recently. One of the interesting points the author made was that they felt secure when dating someone in a hierarchical dynamic. They knew what to expect and how their relationship was defined, how integrated they could be in their lives. While dating someone who isn't hierarchical or even relationship anarchist - there's less clarity in those roles. Certainly some food for thought.

I know from my own experience I can often look at the relationship cycle and see where things went wrong. Most often a huge step is missed. The "vetting" portion of things. Initiating and Experimenting. Instead of taking the time to build a foundation it's easy to jump into intensity and integration. It's becomes assumed we're bonded and the moment one person tries to differentiate the entire things implodes.

This isn't meant to devalue new relationships or people at all. Just a recognition of the differences between them and established relationships. The importance of taking time to establish a relationship before it has input on your day to day life and more major things like finances, schedules, and other relationships.

With poorly formed triads, we see this so often. The couple claims there is no "couples privilege", that the new partner (unicorn) is on completely equal footing. Yet clearly everyone is in denial. A couple with years of communicating, living together, intertwined finances, maybe children, is ultimately going to have more establishment in it's function than a third thrown on board. The newbie rocks the boat, understandably so if they're told they have equal power in all aspects, and the couple becomes resentful or defensive when there hasn't been any establishment of how to proceed with such things.

The benefits of stating that I'm hierarchical and have a primary means there should be less confusion about how my relationships are defined. (Less, not eradicated). A new partner should know that they don't make decisions regarding child care, or financing a new car, or paying the bills. They also know that I won't agree to plans that could interfere with those things - "I can't afford a 10 day road trip and it would negatively impact my kid." It helps avoid unreasonable expectations. "I want to plan a date for Wednesday." "Hubby and I have to attend a parent teacher's conference. I clarified with him that he can stay home with kiddo another night this week." "I think we should buy a pet together!" "That's not a responsibility I can take on, but I support you getting a pet and will snuggle it when I come over." Etc. etc.

Per usual I rambled on more than I intended. I procrastinated on cleaning long enough by typing out these thoughts. I have no idea how much sense the made and will likely dive to writing more convoluted poly nonsense another time.

#polyamory #ethical non monogamy #polyamorous #polyamorous relationships #polyam #poly relationship #polyam dating #polyam life #nonmonogamy #polyamourous

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slutshamethesquirrels · 3 months

Text

Behind The Cover - Chapter 7

“We can't, I’m sorry.” Suguru tells the blonde man. It was best if he led these kind of transactions. His ability to remain stone faced and resolute often gained them more in the end.

It wasn't often that anyone got invited into the vampires’ den, not that it wasn't guest ready.

Below the mezzanine, the living room was unnecessarily comfortable. The couch was plush, it's gray surface more than ready to provide ample relief for any back problems one may find themselves plagued with, already carefully decorated with an assortment of throw pillows and knitted blankets. Matching recliners framed it on either side, all pointed to a large mounted TV on the back wall above the fireplace that only ever came on when Yuuji could convince Megumi that it would be better to exist in the common spaces instead of locked away from the world. The coffee table was the centerpiece of the area, a large slab of raw wood coated in resin, its metal legs cradled by the plush of an off-white shag carpet designed to shelter weary feet from the hardwood.

And yet, Nanami Kento didn't seem to be relaxed at all, not that he ever did anyway. He stood off to the side, refusing to let his guard down. He was all tense shoulders, strained muscles and a locked jaw. But Suguru could imagine it was hard to relax when you were seated in a circle of predators.

Suguru wondered if he didn't know, if he was just a normal ignorant man, if his interior design would be enough to fool him. Or would he still pick up on the sterile air? Would he notice that all the house plants were artificial, that the random coffee mug or magazine one could find discarded on the end tables had never actually been used? Was Suguru's staging convincing enough for the average eye?

He couldn't justify why he played this game, there was no winner. In fact, there were no other players. Only one human had ever been allowed past the faux bookshelf upstairs, and that was Nanami Kento himself. Not a friend, but a colleague. A business prospect.

“I was afraid that would be the case.” A sigh from the disheveled blonde as he pulls his glasses from his face and uses the palm of his hand to kneed at the bridge of his nose. He looks like he hasn't slept very well, dark circles bleeding across the soft skin just below his eyes “Do you at least have some idea of how we can stop this? Or at least slow it?”.

Yes. But Suguru didn't need him to catch that information.

The “job” on the table today was different from the others they usually took. Typically, with the level of trust the crew had earned with Kento over the years, he no longer found the need to actually stop by. It was a rinse and repeat cycle of expertly encrypted E-Mails that would be delivered automatically. Sometimes, they'd get shorter lists weekly. Occasionally, longer ones monthly. Each one was a little different, but also all the same. Names, crimes, evidence files and pricing.

But those hits were all human, it was a glorified grocery list.

This?

When Kento had requested an actual meeting, they should've already known.

The news of Ryomen Sukuna's victims was spreading like wildfire. Hunts had become harder, security measures had doubled, and it seemed like the whole city was on high alert. Of course, Satoru and Suguru had debated back and forth on what was to be done about it, with Satoru in the corner of “mind our own damn business” and Suguru firmly on the side of taking action.

‘Action’ meaning a stern talking to, a harsh threat, or worse come to worst, a beat down. All four of the men had gone back and forth on whether or not it was worth potentially starting a turf war, but Suguru himself didn't think Sukuna's clan established enough to maintain solidarity.

He was a fledgling, as well as most of his cronies, only really having popped up in the last few years. He was rumored to be a hell of a fighter. Most undead knew who ran this city, though. Satoru and Suguru had never run into a problem with blatant disregard for their territory until now. He doubted that the gang would remain intact if enough of them were to have the fear of god beaten into them.

Even still, it felt like a risky move taking a hit that was one of their own, despite Nanami Kento having made a damn good case.

Sprawled across the coffee table are stacks of papers. Court cases, filings, evidence files for ongoing victims. Kento had made sure to exclude any names or photos of victims who still lived, not that any resident of this house cared in any capacity. It seemed Sukuna had been a violent predator long before he was undead, and that combined with his recent rendezvous was a perfect shit storm. Still, humans in the end were disposable. Important only as a food source. His crew would come first, always, and straight up murdering the head of another clan was only going to put them at risk.

The only good option was scouting vampire hunters, but they were more rare than vampires themselves, and god knows no undead being wanted them in this town.

“Unfortunately, no.” Suguru lies. Confidently, arrogantly, his arms folded tightly across his chest while his shoulders support his weight against the mantle of the fireplace.

For a moment, the only sound was Yuuji shuffling through the papers on the table from his seated position on the floor. His brows are knotted together, bottom lip occasionally pulling between his teeth as he scans over the information, obviously perturbed. Itadori was softer than the other three members of the group.

He didn't enjoy the thrill of the hunt, and considered it a necessity for survival more than anything. He never directly ate flesh, instead his victims would be found dead with a shattered seventh cervical vertebrae and a gash across any major arteries, usually wiped clean and respectfully redressed, laid back in their beds and covered morgue-style with their sheets. Instead of eating at the scene, he had an entire process of draining blood into containers.

The entire process took him forever and a half, and involved a shit ton of anti-coagulants. Suguru was fairly certain his household single handedly funded half of the Bayer corporation's profits. He was often barely beating the sun home. He’d often be seen around the house with a solid metal tumbler, the straw metal as well, like he didn't want to see what he was consuming. Satoru made fun of him for this, jokingly referred to it as “Yuuji’s sippy cup”, but Suguru had always had a soft spot for his unshakable goodness.

Megumi is perched on the arm of the couch behind him, slender legs stretched down to the carpet as verdant eyes scan back and forth, reading over Itadori’s shoulder.

The pair reminded Suguru a bit of Satoru and himself. Itadori, without Megumi, surely would've stepped out into daylight by now. And though Fushiguro was more poised, less obvious about it, Suguru was fairly certain it was the same the other way around. The sun and the moon, yin and yang, bitter and sweet.

“Stop” the word is barely audible as Megumi kicks into Yuuji’s side with a socked foot. The pink haired boy huffs, but obeys, tossing the papers down and cradling his face in his hands, elbows resting on the table.

“If it helps,” Satoru interjects, and Suguru hopes he doesn't have to knuckle box him for whatever he's about to say “We have been keeping tabs on this situation. Big guy's really fuckin’ up the vibe around here.”.

Could he be more unprofessional? He's strewn his tall ass out across the couch, one leg cocked up on the cushions and the other one extended off the edge. The entire time he’d been playing battleship on his phone, ocean eyes never moving from the screen, even when he did have something to say. Making sure Kento knows just how much his little meeting meant to him.

“What Satoru means,” Suguru corrects with an apologetic ghost of a smile “is that we agree something has to be done here. But we can't make the wrong move. We have to consider the risks, and jumping straight into elimination is going to stir the pot. No one wants that. Not us, not you.”.

Satoru chuckles dismissively “Elimination? Is that what we’re calling it these days- ah shit, they sunk my carrier!”.

Suguru and Nanami give him the same annoyed glare while Megumi makes a sound almost akin to laughter.

Nanami rolls his eyes and returns his full attention to Suguru:

“I understand, believe me I do. But we simply cannot waste time with this, and you four are our most trusted affiliates on this side. I fear if something isn't done soon, the city will resort to outsourcing for an executioner. No offense, but I don't want a den in this town if it isn't this one.”

“Awwwh, he likes us, Sugu-!”

“Shut it.” Suguru barks in Satoru’s general direction, and then allows his eyes to wander as he toils over the next move for a moment.

Satoru, as irritating as he may be, spread out on the couch.

Megumi, tracing ghostly circles in between Itadori's shoulder blades as he twists at the locks of his hair; a nervous habit Suguru had picked up on eons ago.

They were the closest he'd ever have to friends, to family. It was his job to upkeep them for as long as possible.

And then the papers scattered across the table. A photo catches his eye. The remnants of a young woman, gutted and dismembered, body pieces strewn across fresh grass in the early morning dew. Her severed head faces the camera, eternally fixed in an open mouthed scream of horror. Anguish fills her features, her hair is disheveled and knotted, torn away entirely in some places. One of her cheeks is completely gone, exposing bare teeth on the side. Suguru has an irritating thought; She looks like you.

Eventually, Kento is persuaded to buy them some time while they decide which move to make.

It's irritating, just another thing to stack on top of his plate. Not that his plate had been filled with anything but you. Pesky little creature, you were.

He hadn't attempted to reach out to you in weeks, cycling through the idea that you'd be better off far away from him and the fact that he had enough to keep him somewhat functioning, for now.

He’d spent an unhealthy amount of time indulging in his obsession. Notifications turned on for all your socials, he’d often wait until you went live to really indulge himself. If he could, his laptop was his preferred method of viewing, watching you as you showed off an animal, or did your makeup, or talked about your day, whatever. His free hand would press the shredded dress he’d taken from you to his face, inhaling your scent as his other stroked his cock.

How long had it been since he had such uncontrollable human desires?

He’d overwhelm himself with you, watching you smile at him through a second hand medium, hearing your honey sweet voice in his ears, inhaling the fucking masterpiece that was the remnants of your sweat and arousal. It was a lethal concoction.

In his head, you were there. He could almost feel you, warm and wet and pathetic, bouncing on his girth, trying desperately to earn his approval. He'd make you beg, wanted to hear you tell him how badly you needed him, wanted you to fall into him as you came. He wanted you to cry. Fuck, you were so pretty when you cried. He wanted to lap up the tears and the sweat. Wanted to eat you until you were a debauched excuse of a person beneath him.

Imagining biting into your soft flesh always triggered his release. And when he’d cum, he’d cum hard .

Tonight was no different. Or at least, he hadn't intended for it to be different.

A notification, around two or so. Strange hours. Typically, you tend not to post or go live past about eleven.

He excuses himself from the common area to head to his room, completely prepared to go through his usual routine, until he clicks the play button on the video.

You're sitting in that pink office chair, cross legged and looking unwell. There are prominent bags under your eyes, your hair is unstyled, your skin devoid of makeup. Someone less obsessive than himself maybe wouldn't have noticed, but you appeared to have lost weight. Instead of your normal skimpy attire, you're wearing flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt that swallows you whole, hiding your body from the world at large.

If he had a blood pressure, it would’ve bottomed out.

“Hey guys,”

Your voice is strained, and you raise a hand and wave sheepishly, almost like you're camera shy.

“I, uh, have never had to make a video like this so forgive me if I’m acting weird or anything. I’m kind of nervous.”

Your other hand scoops down in your lap and you produce a bearded dragon. Suguru's ashamed to admit he knows it's name immediately.

“That's why Jingles is here to keep me company. She's my emotional support lizard.”

The giggle that comes out of you at your own joke sounds forced and fake.

Suguru can feel his body winding up, pressure building in his chest like a powder keg. Something was wrong here.

“Anyway, due to, uh.. Unforeseen circumstances, I guess- I’m going through a lot of life changes right now. It's kind of a lot, but to keep it short and sweet I’m in the process of finding a new place to live, and dealing with some, uhm, pretty gnarly mental health stuff-”

You look away from the camera, your eyes trailing off somewhere to the left and absentmindedly you bring Jingles up to your shoulder, one hand using a finger to stroke her back as you continue to speak. He’d never seen you struggle to communicate through video before. Countless times he'd watched you charm the sock off of thousands through the camera. It made him sick.

“And, uhm, I guess there's no easy way to say this but uh, I'll be taking a break from social media for a while.”

Your lip juts out against your will and your gaze falls to the floor, hair covering your face from the camera momentarily. The video cuts, and it's obvious you've been crying, your cheeks now red and swollen. Jingles clings to the front of your tshirt.

“I’ve also been in the process of re-homing a lot of my animals-”

Immediately, you burst into tears, your hand flying to cover your face. Another jump cut.

“It's just not fair to them when I really can't provide them with the time and care they need right now. I want to take a moment to thank all the rescues that have helped me through this process-”

The rest of the video is you apologizing, thanking your supporters and friends, and reminding your followers to donate to the rescues that have assisted you. The last thing you do is take Jingle's clawed front foot and wave at the camera before the screen goes dark.

There is no caption on the video, just links to donate. He refreshes a few times and comments begin to flood in. Confusion, anger, chaos dominates the comment section, along with a lot of kind words about you and your contributions to people's daily lives. Annoyingly, some comment about your looks still, and he thinks that maybe he should’ve taken out people by the thousands back when he had the chance.

He's risking exposing himself, but he can't take it. He needs to know what's happening. Immediately.

Your POV:

The week after receiving the photo your life had melted into shambles.

You stopped going out altogether, afraid of running into him. Not that Ryomen would’ve ever been caught dead in the places you typically visited. He wasn't exactly a cafe, walking park, or bookstore kind of guy. Even still. You’d had food delivered, and your trashcan was surely located somewhere beneath the pile that surrounded it.

Dirty laundry overtook your floor, and for the first time since he went to prison you’d picked up smoking again. The only thing keeping you from doing it indoors was the health of your animals.

And maybe that's what hurt the worst. You knew you had to leave the city you’d come to know as home, but transportation of live animals wasn't cheap, and transportation of animals with specific heat and humidity requirements was insanely pricey. Even worse, you knew you'd have to go as far as humanly possible, so you were looking at air transportation versus ground. It made you sick, having to pick.

Each one was your baby, each one had a story and a name and hours upon hours of handling and taming. Each tank was designed and decorated by you. The amount of love you’d poured into them was immeasurable.

Nanami Kento had bought you your first reptile. A congratulatory gift for escaping Ryomen. It spurred a new light in you. Sukuna never liked the idea of you having pets, your attention and affection was not to be divided, and so despite your interest you’d refrained. Only one time did you try while you were with him.

It was a brazilian black tarantula, no bigger than the pad of your thumb at the time. You thought it’d be okay, seeing as they didn't like to be handled, and all you’d really have to do is feed it and provide it basic husbandry. Other than that, there'd be no skin off anyone's back, only a tank and a little guy sitting on a shelf to look pretty.

But when he'd come over to find it, he'd lost his mind. You think that maybe the lowest point of your life was watching him throw the starter terrarium against the wall, unable to move or speak as it shattered. Unable to move or speak as he looked you dead in the eyes and brought his boot down on the poor creature, squishing it against the tile. It didn't even have a name yet.

Trying to contain your sobs as you cleaned up the remnants of its body off the floor, you’d decided then that you had to get out, somehow. There was no world in which such an innocent creature deserved that fate, no world in which you shouldn't be able to cry aloud without facing some unknown horror.

So when he’d been locked away on an unrelated charge, when you were leaving the courthouse with your shoulders lighter than they’d been in years, when the lead prosecutor on the case had flagged you down and asked you to meet him by his car, you felt vindicated to tell him yes. Yes, you would walk with him to his car, because you could. You could make that choice.

He’d retrieved a thick envelope from the car, its contents containing a stack of adoption paperwork, and several receipts for a tank, food bowls, meal worms, a heat lamp, and so on. Nanami had told you that you were the proud owner of a baby bearded dragon, courtesy of himself and the rest of the prosecutorial council. The agreement was that you would care for it for the entirety of its lifespan, eight to ten years. And with the promise of caring for the reptile came the stipulation of staying the fuck away from Ryomen, because god knows he’d never allow it.

Nanami Kento was the first man who ever treated you with kindness, and you intended to keep your promise to him. Jingles would remain with you, and the two of you would never again allow Sukuna within a thousand feet of your lives.

Still, it didn't make it any easier.

Part of you wondered if it was fate, if Sukuna was predestined to rule your life forever.

Part of you wondered if you were overreacting, deconstructing yourself and your life over some dude who just happened to look like him.

Part of you knew what you saw, knew you weren't crazy, knew you were in danger if he ever found you. And not the sexy kind.

With a deep breath, you’d posted your goodbye video, immediately logging out of all your social media after. You didn't need the comments, couldn't handle it.

You’d taken to sleeping in the bathtub, feeling more secure in the windowless environment behind two extra locked doors.

So there you were, curled in a nest of pillows and blankets, begging yourself to sleep, when your phone rang.

At first, you ignore it, let it ring to completion and go silent, feeling relieved that there was no pressure to speak to anyone. You couldn't imagine who’d be calling at this hour anyway. Your friends already knew the details, and wouldn't be shocked by your semi-public mini-breakdown.

…The mother fucker rings again.

You jerk the device from the tub's edge, and you're surprised when you feel nothing at the name flashing across the screen. It was all too much, you were emotionally drained.

Suguru is calling…

You let it go to voicemail again, rolling back over and settling into the blankets. You're breathing deeper, your body getting heavy, when he calls again.

You snatch your phone again, answering and pressing it to your ear with a growl.

“It's the middle of the fuckin’ night. What could you possibly need?”

Silence, for a moment, and then:

“You just posted the most concerning video I’ve ever seen on instagram. I know you're awake.”

You scoff, irritated. Why the fuck did he have the voice of an incubus?

“Who gave you my instagram? Stalker.” you accuse, half teasing and half genuine.

“You told me all about your social media at the party, it wasn't hard to find.”

Touchè.

“Also, you didn't follow me back. I’m hurt.”

You think you can hear a drip of sarcasm in his tone, it makes you feel both angry and a little more alive.

“Suguru, what do you need? I’m kind of really busy-”

“At this hour? Doing what?” You can tell he doesn't believe you.

“Stuff!” You defend, and he laughs, and for some reason the sound brings a warmth to your chest and tears to your eyes.

“Okay, sure, well I’m so sorry to have interrupted your very important ‘stuff’ time, princess, but I was actually calling to check on you.”

You feel your bottom lip tremble against your will, a knot in your throat winding so tight you fear it may snap.

“Okay.” It's all you can force out.

“...So? Are you okay?”

You take a deep, shaky breath.

“What if the answer is ‘no’?”

“Then I can be there tomorrow night.”

The dam breaks, and tears flow freely down your face, accompanied by hiccups and puppy whimpers.

“Then no,” you choke “I-I’m not okay."

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #geto suguru #jjk suguru #jjk x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto smut #au no curses #vampire au #geto suguru smut #jjk geto #suguru geto

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symphonic-scream · 1 year

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Fucking gotta talk about this shit I've accidentally made something somewhat wholesome

So. The focus this time? Hifumi. GASP. and? Transfem Hifumi. Yeah.

So she's new to being herself. Conservative family, sheltered, one night she ducks into some random bar to get away from the crowds and- oh. Its Crossroads. A gay bar. There she meets Joker for the first time, a blooming Drag Queen, and they become good friends. Joker is there as Hifumi discovers shes trans and helps her set things in place to get away from her family

You see, Joker has lots of queer friends. Working at a gay bar does that to a guy. Unfortunately he and his boyfriend Goro don't have room in their apartment with his little sibling staying with them, so he resorts to plan B. Asking Haru and Makoto to help a woman out

So basically. Hifumi learns how to live as herself freely for the first time, with the help of some new queer friends while living in Makoto and Haru's guest room and having weekly tea with Akira

Here's where everyone's at!

Joker (Akira)- he's a drag queen of course. Moonlights as Aki-chan at Crossroads, is dating Goro, shares a small apartment with him and Futaba. Friend to many a queer folk, he jokes that he's the slutty glue that keeps their ragtag group together

Ryuji- studying to be a gym teacher, a proper one. Bisexual, cis. Openly bi too, he has his flag pinned to everything he owns. He even dyed his hair in the flag colours once when he had too much to drink. Shares Ann's place with her, Shiho, and Yusuke, he's blossoming out now that he's out of highschool

Ann- beginner actor, bisexual and cis, been dating Shiho since their highschool days. When Ryuji woke up with his hair dyed, she dyed her pigtails out of solidarity. She really hopes Hifumi branches out into trying different fashion and makeup options, she's looking forward to a good girl's night with someone other than Haru

Yusuke- gay asexual. Transmasc, he/they. A starving artist rescued by two overly friendly bisexuals (and Shiho), his room in their place is a den of colour and expression and their soul splattered on the walls. He ends up closest with Hifumi out of the roommate quad

Futaba- they like girls but doesn't wanna pin down their sexuality just yet. Agender, fine with the label non-binary too, any pronouns. Works as a freelance cyber security assistant out of Akira and Goro's apartment, doesn't like being around people too much. They like Hifumi. She's quiet, smart. She's also unafraid to join Futaba in bullying Goro

Makoto- lesbian transfem. To put her identity into the classic lesbian terms, she's between futch and butch, and is working to be a youth councilor. She transitioned rather young and has reached a solid point in her life, and is very excited to get to guide Hifumi on her journey of defining Womanhood for herself. She and Haru are married in every sense but the legal one

Haru- cis lesbian. Though, honestly, shes mainly only ever had eyes for Makoto. High femme. She runs a little cozy bakery slash coffee shop under their apartment, the whole place screams cottage core. She's excited to have another person to dote on around the house. Secret from the others, but her and Makoto are beginning talks of whether they'd want to have a kid

...

Yeah I. Y'all,,, holy shit

#persona 5 #persona 5 au #okujima #hifumi togo #makoto niijima #haru okumura #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #shihoann #futaba sakura #goro akechi #akeshu #yusuke kitagawa #the phantom queers

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pookielious · 3 months

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Hiraeth

Hiraeth ; a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

Chapter one — Philadelphia,PA

Summary: After returning from the war, Babe Heffron feels lost and empty, struggling with nightmares and survivor's guilt. He decides to take a spontaneous train trip with Bill to get away from Philadelphia and figure things out

Word count : 2,078 (11k+ charaters)

Notes: multichaptered (1/??) ! On AO3 !! No disrespect towards the men of the real easy company, this is based off of the hbo portrayals and strictly for funsies : ) no ships are included for those who don't enjoy ships !

Chapter below cut ↓

The year was 1946, a few months since the war had ended, since all of Easy had finally returned home to their respective states and family, it was a miserable year for Heffron; just about the most miserable you could get. Babe had returned to Philadelphia, back to his ma's on Front Street, and kept in close contact with Bill since they'd lived so close to one another, but after the war nothing felt complete anymore. It felt as if his life was missing something yet there was nothing to fill that void that layed both in his head and heart.

Being a veteran of such a horrible war had its downsides, of course, the nightmares plagued him, the survivors' guilt , all the 'normal' stuff that no one had warned him about followed the now 22 year old and all of the other veterans no matter when they came into the war.

He'd told Bill about it, both in person and over the frequent phone calls they'd had,Bill had even showed he felt the same kind of void ina way but didn't know how to go about fixing it. bill simply choiced to ignore it.

"We should do something about it yknow?" Babe said one day, out of nowhere in the middle of the coffee shop him and Bill regulared for a weekly coffee 'date', His index finger tracing the rim of the glass boredly.

",bout what?" Bill raised a eyebrow, sipping from his coffee mug, a pastry in hand

"I don't know, that feeling ? -- maybe we should.." he trailed off to think about it, eating the last bite he'd had of his breakfast sandwich , the coffee shop was relatively quiet.not many other people there besides the two and since they were regulars they knew the most active times and usually avoided it "–we should just go somewhere, maybe thats what we're missing yknow? "

"Where to?" Was bill's only question, babe was slightly suprised to hear that he wasn't even questioning his sanity, especially since it was bill he was talking to,going out somewhere out of nowhere without any sort of planning in advance surely wasn't a good idea

"Dunno, out of Philly definitely, I just need to be out of here-- to think or sumn'thin " the ginger shrugged, he didn't have a plan at all he wasn't even sure how long he wanted to be away from home, he just wanted to figure things out, find himself again

"Fine, just anywhere but Manhattan, or even worst" Bill pretended to shiver "-- jersey" he laughed

"God no" heffron cracked a smile "meet me at the train station on 30th tomorrow morning, one down on broad street yeah? I'll figure out where we're going before you get there"

"Yknow babe," Bill started "you might as well be as nuts as crazy joe " he said as he put cash on the table, standing up

"Com'on it really can't be that hard !" Babe tried to reason with the man behind the counter

"We uhm-- we need a destination sir" the young man said, staring at the train destinations behind the counter "we have one at 10:30 for new york" he offered, still giving babe a look that screamed 'are you a mad man?'

"God no- anything but new york-- jesus" he sighed frustratedly "get me two tickets for- the furthest away from here-- whatever is available that's not goddamn jersey or new york , okay?"

The man stayed quiet for a moment, his eyes looking away from babe at their ticket selection with a small sigh he spoke again "Thatll be 47 dollars sir" babe handed him the money and received the tickets after a small fumbling battle with his wallet "thanks bud" heffron smiled and walked to the side, sitting down on a bench , he placed his bag between his feet as he waited for Bill, he'd came slightly earlier just as he said just so he could have everything ready before hand

Maybe now would've been a good time to rethink everything, maybe come back a different time and trade in these tickets for a new ride, somewhere planned with Bill or maybe even with one of his siblings or his ma, he knew Bill wouldn't judge him for it.. but he felt like it was a good time as ever, why not now

Sure he hadn't planned anything not even where he was going but that was the beauty of it all, he'd be going to a place long away from the busy city of Philadelphia , somewhere new. It almost reminded him of the deployment, the excitement of not knowing where he was going but knowing he'd be dropped somewhere, defending everyone he loved oversees, it was almost the same excitement but this time it he wasn't carrying guns and grenades, this time he was In civilian clothes, with a bag full of necessities and of course more clothes, without a helmet to protect him from gunfire , being sent to a tiny foxhole where he was to freeze his balls off. Thank God he wasn't in bastogne. He could shiver at the thought of being there again

"Babe-? babe?" Bill snapped his fingers infront of his friend's eyes " Earth to heffronnnn" He heard a voice , realizing he'd been lost in thought for God knows how long , Bill smiled as his eyes focused on him "there ya are, where's your head at right now"

"Thanking God I'm not in bastogne" babe stood up taking bills bag, he figured it'd make it Easier for him, with the whole blown off leg and all, despite the prosthetic and the crutch, Bill always had a funny sort of limp, one that at least made it look like it was difficult to walk with especially with a bag

"Who knows, maybe yous got us tickets back there" Bill joked starting to head his way to the terminal "God I hope not" babe sighed, following behind Bill "Jesus christ whatdya got in this bag? The goddamn empire state buildin'?"

The pair had gotten to their train just in time, their tickets had been punched and the two had been directed to their seats, the train was pretty full, the people from all over it seemed not just from Philly, the two made their way to the 3rd train cart as instructed

it was a nice train, one of those trains with seats and a table infront of them and sleeping quarters similar to the one they had been in on their way to deployment though the two had some sort of understanding they would rather sleep in the seats then on some filthy beds that hadn't been clean in God knows how long

"were soliders, We could sleep anywhere for christ sake" Bill retored, as he walked up to their assigned seats, noticing not one but two men in the seats across from them "ill be damned" Bill laughed hushedly , making the man in the isle seat, closest to bill look up from what seem like a attempt at a nap and the other, closest to the window look up from his book , babe hadn't been too har behind and finally came to a stop next to Bill, "small world ain't it babe?"

Babe smiled and laughed " well ain't it david Webster and ol' joe leibgott!" Babe handed Bill one of the bags to free his hand, long enough to give the two handshakes

"Ain't this a suprise!" Leibgott laughed, babe took note of how the two didn't look any different from when he last saw them, he'd had the twos phone numbers ,he had just about eveyones but they never talked all that much, at least not as much as him and Bill did as well as the others who had came from Pennsylvania before the war , who knew calling out of state could be so expensive

"good to see you both" Webster said putting his book on the table

"whatdya both doing on here?" Bill leaned his crutch on the table to put his bag into the overhead storage ,babe doing the same although much faster then Bill was

"Ain't learn to read yet?" liebgott teased

"I got a job for a journal in newyork, " webster started "they want me to go write a few articles about Mardi gras and some of that stuff in New Orleans so they payed for me to go there"

"You don't say huh?" Heffron said as he slid into the seat towards the window, opposite of web he took bill's crutch with him to lay down on the floor so it wouldn't be flying everywhere once the train started to move.

Webster continued "And liebgott here, I ran into him in timeSquare, told me he'd been exploring the east coast and decided to join me"

"Exploring?"

"Yeah" liebgott shrugged crossing his arms "I felt kind of lost being back home in san fran,yknow? I just felt like I needed to be anywhere else but there"

Babe lit up "yeah! Yeah! Thats exactly how I felt " he looked over at bill "I told you I wasn't crazy he knows exactly what I was feeling"

Bill sat next to babe "Jeez now the both of you's are having mid life crisis , huh"

liebgott raised a eyebrow "you feel the same? God that's a relief, webster over here was makin' me feel crazy for it too"

Babe laughed "I've been feeling that for a long time, trust me its torture"

the two Philadelphians had settled in as the train had moved out of the city, the train attendants had came through with breakfast and drinks for everyone, the chatter continued between David and Edward as the train started it more than a day long trip down to a little town close to New Orleans so they had plenty of time for that "So Louisiana hm?" Babe Said

"Did you actually not know where you were going before you got on here?" David questioned, being careful to not move around to much as he talked, because of liebgott; who had slumped over on him in his sleep

"Nah, we got completely random tickets , just so happens we got lucky and ended up with you both, ya'know?"

Webster simply nodded, taking a sip of his drink "maybe it's because I wasn't a big fan of being in Europe but I never felt that, how you and Joe feel i mean"

"Trust me I wasn't either, especially in bastogne-- I don't think I'll ever go back to Europe at least by will"

"I guess when I came back I was lost for a little but not as much as you guys feel now, i think i felt that way more when i joined back with the company, way back in haguenau."

"Because you weren't there through all of it" he shrugged, "you were still 'round people --normal people through the hospitals and stuff, but we were kind of isolated during the battle of the bulge or whatever they callin' it, y'know? it was just us for the most part sure we'd see other divisions and stuff, but it's a while different mindset, you know that"

After a while more of talking, the topic changed from homesickness and being lost. They'd both started talking about what they'd been up to in the past few months, since they were finally brought back to the states.

"Say, doesn't doc live out here? Doc Roe, right?" Web asked, changing the subject for what felt like the 5th time in the hour.

"Actually, yeah he don't live too far out of New Orleans from what I remember. Bayou chou- or- sumn' like that , Chene? Yeah that sounds right. Bayou Chene'

"Maybe we should keep a eye out for him, or go visit or somthing " Web suggested, stretching out his legs under the table.

"Yeah, that'd be nice-- if we could find out where he is"

"Your both pretty close, right? How don't you know where he lives?" Web questioned.

"We've sent each other a few letters and postcards, sure, but ion know the guys address by memory, I'm nughta stalka' or something", babe shrugged.

He wondered if they'd be able to find him out there, it would be nice to see the company together again, even if it wasn't all of them. Maybe he just needed to see his family again, that had to be the piece to the missing spot in his brain.

Author note ♧

Ty sm for reading!!! I've had this for a while now but I'm very much so committed to getting these chapters out soon enough!! I hope you enjoyed : )

Ps sorry if web and Lieb are slightly out of character! It's my first time writing for them

#band of brothers #101st airborne #easy company #hbo war #bofb #band of brothers fanfic #eugene roe #lewis nixon #babe heffron #bill guarnere #joseph liebgott #joe leibgott #wild bill #gene roe #doc roe #connie writes

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savepc2023 · 1 year

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You are giving me so many feelings about Darryl. Can we get a scenario just... Becoming Darryl's safe person? The one that protects them, treats them gently, and the one they can trust?

"Ah, are you sure you don't need me to drop you home? It'll be no problem, really!"

"Ohh no. It's ok, man. I'll text you when I get home. Goodnight, now!"

The brunette sighs, before waving and giving you a small wobbly smile. Closing the door and locking it with trembling hands. They turn around, but make no move to head towards their bedroom, instead choosing to stare at their living room. At the two glasses sitting on the coffee table, one still half full with mulled wine.

This was the first time Darryl had invited you over, they'd brought up the idea almost desperately when you were going over things you both could do together for your weekly hangout every Saturday. You'd stared at them with wide eyes, clearly not have expected that. But you recovered fairly quickly, and agreed with a grin.

You hadn't asked them why they were so eager for you to come over, but then again you probably didn't think it was too weird, either. After all, you weren't aware of how they thought. Aware of how they'd never invited anyone to their house for years now. Aware of how scenarios of people taking advantage of them in their own home ran in their mind whenever someone brought up the prospect. Aware of how they'd stammer and suggest meeting up at the cafe, or the park or literally anywhere other than a secluded place instead.

This was a very big step for them. They'd thought over it weeks before, about how you were probably one of the most trusted people for them. And how while he still flinched if you made any sudden movement, he couldn't imagine you ever inflicting any sort of damage over him.

You were just so nice. So understanding of him. When it was only your fourth day on the job, you abandoned the bar to instead comfort him and make sure he was ok after a person at the club tried to get their way with them. Not before smashing a glass over their head, of course. You'd made attempts to make conversation with them before, but it was after that day when they themself started reciprocating it. And now, you were their friend. Not their only one, but the one they felt they could tell what was plaguing their mind without fear of judgement.

They're almost ashamed. All it took was someone being a decent person and they were attached. Their opinion of you positively skyrocketed that day.

So they did it. And you came over, and you both had a good time. Talking about random things over a glass of wine each (Darryl barely drank from theirs. They're thankful that you didn't bring it up. They'd surely feel ashamed if you did.)

It wasn't a necessity to invite every friend over to your home at least once, of course. But Darryl wanted to get better. They wanted to be able to walk the streets without anxiety creeping in every time someone walked a bit too close to them. They wanted to be able to wear what they wanted without fearing people's eyes on them. So this was a start.

Bringing the person they trusted the most into their safe space was a start.

And maybe, just maybe...

They're proud of themself for taking that step.

#i love them a lot #it just felt right to make this more platonic than romantic :p if you'd like a romantic one feel free to send in another request!#🖤journal #degrees of lewdity #dol #darryl the club owner #dol darryl #darryl dol #degrees of lewdity darryl #🖤mail #🖤heinous-desiree

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edhellfire · 4 months

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❛ i never realized how much i needed you until you weren't there. ❜

@havvkinsqueen

Meeting Chrissy again in Indianapolis so many years after high school had been a healing experience for Eddie. For some reason he'd convinced himself that Chrissy wanted nothing to do with him. He'd convinced himself that he understood why. Chrissy nearly died back in '86 and maybe his face just reminded her for that. He could understand why seeing him would feel like seeing Vecna. He was surprised she indulged him in conversation that evening and that she didn't seem scared or freaked out or anything like that. It almost felt like she'd been wanting to see him.

Never did he expect that chance meeting in a bar would turn into weekly coffee dates. They were usually on Fridays, after her last class. Eddie scheduled his breaks at the tattoo shop around these coffee dates. He looked forward to them. He loved hearing Chrissy talk about college, and about all the drama. He wondered if it would have been like this if they'd been friends in high school. Probably not. There was a figurative wall between them in high school, cliques, expectations, social and economic inequalities. It was very Romeo and Juliet, without the romance. Eddie had very much gotten it into his head that he was not Eddie's type. That was fine. He'd take what he could get; it still applied.

He brought his coffee up to his lips for a sip but didn't quite get to it. He nearly spilled his coffee when Chrissy spilled her heart out like that. It really came out of nowhere. Eddie didn't trust himself to sip the coffee and not choke on it while he processed this information so he set his cup down on the table. "I was never not there." Middle school, high school, hell, even college - he was in the same city as her, they just didn't know it sooner. "You just never looked hard enough. And I'm kind of hard to miss."

#havvkinsqueen

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percy-writes · 2 years

Text

I'm charming, I'm kind. I'm clay beneath your fingertips; I'm whoever you want me to be. I laugh at your jokes. I inquire about your hobbies and ask follow up questions. I show genuine interest and let you talk about yourself. I smile and don't say a bad word about anyone else. I don't gossip- that's a rule- but I'll let you do it if you like. I'll happily listen. I'm happy and cheery and kind and optimistic- I try to lift the mood of every room I walk into. I try to brighten people's days and be the best person I can be. I want to make people feel listened to. I want them to feel cared about. I don't want them to feel ignored.

After all, I hate that feeling myself.

As cliche as it sounds, I try to be the person I would love to meet. The person that would remember what I say; my interests, my weekly activities, my favorite things. They're the type to remember my favorite coffee and gift it to me when I'm having a hard time. They'd remember me when I'm not there. They would make me feel cherished and never, never make me feel like a burden. They'd drop anything to help me without any indication of annoyance.

I want to be that person for others. So that's what I live by.

#journal entry #my personality

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fleogecorpse · 2 years

Note

I was wondering if I could request platonic headcanons for Aizawa, Midnight, and Present Mic finding out that y/n (one of their students) is the child of an old friend of theirs? So like, y/n's parent(s) were close friends with those 3 when they were younger, and the reaction they'd get by finding this out like half way through the year or something. I'm not good at wording things 😅 If not, that's fine! Have an amazing day/night/etc. :)

BNHA

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nemuri and hizashi have to stop dropping (n) off from school

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warnings: none

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-they were, shocked, to say the least. the three thought they were dead after not seeing eachother in 16 years, is that why your parent didn't talk to them? because they were pregnant with you?

-aizawa was a bit hurt, he was reserved and quiet but that didn't mean he had no care about your mom/dad/parent.

-nemuri and hizashi on the other hand were excited. they haven't seen them in years! they were wondering what they looked like.

-but, they went to ua with them too. how are they not a hero? or at least someone that helps them?

-mic and midnight made it their duty to drive you home and to school despite you being embarrassed. all they wanted to do was see their friend again and it was so obvious.

-shota held a parent-teacher conference with them even though you did nothing wrong. it was just the both of them in his classroom drinking coffee, catching up.

-of course midnight and mic would join them both which resulted to gaining each others' phone numbers.

-weekly meet-ups at your house or one of theirs is a must. sometimes you even join them and talk to eri or shinso. maybe even the cats.

#mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shota aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #midnight #midnight x reader #nemuri kayama x reader

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robertdowneyjjr · 2 years

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Prompt: Steve and a friend talking about how much Steve fucked up this situation and how he plans on fixing it

Steve's determined to carry on as usual the week after Tony so thoroughly rejects him. After all, they're still friends, and they'd been having these weekly lunch dates even before they got together (and then broke up), so Steve doesn't plan on stopping these outings with Tony anytime soon. If they're the only way he can stay close with Tony and try to win him back, then Steve will be there, every Tuesday, without fail.

But not even five minutes after stepping out of his studio to head over to Tony's office, he gets a text from the man saying he's too busy to meet up today.

Now, Steve can count on two hands the number of times either of them has had to cancel on their weekly lunch date. Most of the time, it was because Tony had to go out of town for business, usually letting Steve know way in advance. Last-minute cancellations rarely happened. From what he remembers, it had only happened once, and it was because Steve had to deal with a really annoying client for a commission.

Tony had never, not once, cancelled on Steve like this.

So maybe call him paranoid, maybe he's overthinking this, but Steve can't help but wonder if Tony's trying to avoid him after last week.

Dejected, Steve gets off the train two stops early and walks to Sam's cafe instead.

Sam does a double take when he sees Steve walk through the doors. As he hands the change back to the customer at the counter, he addresses Steve.

"Isn't it Tony day?"

Steve sinks into the table nearest the cash register. He knows he looks like a kicked puppy right now, but he can't bring himself to care. This is Sam. He's seen worse from him.

"I think he's avoiding me." Steve leans his forehead on the table and grimaces, pulling his head back up. "This table's sticky."

Sam wipes down the surface of the table, then places a muffin in front of Steve.

"Usually Tony's throwing himself at you, not avoiding you. So what did you do?"

While slowly picking at the blueberry muffin (Tony's favorite, Steve can't help but think), he tells Sam everything. Their breakup that he thought was mutual. The continued weekly lunch dates. How it seemed like Tony was still interested in him. How Steve realized he missed Tony like a lost limb. The way he tried to kiss Tony. The way Tony pushed him away.

"He said he doesn't get back together with his exes."

Sam frowns. "But Pepper--"

"That's what I said too. And he said that would be the last time. That he wanted stability and wasn't interested in doing the on/off thing again."

"Then maybe you need to respect that and let it go, man."

"But what if that's not what he really wants? What if he's just being stubborn about this rule he's set for himself, and he still has feelings for me?"

"Well, does he? Do you know for sure?"

"I know Tony. I see the way he looks at me. The only reason I tried to kiss him was because I was so sure he felt the same. I asked him, point blank, if he still had feelings for me or not, and he just dodged the question. What does that tell you, Sam?"

He knows his voice is getting louder with each word. He's frustrated, aggravated. Sam shouldn't have to deal with Steve like this, but Sam is also the only person he knows that would work things through with him rationally.

A new customer walks in and Sam briefly steps away to take her order. He returns a few minutes later, this time with a tea for Steve and a coffee for himself.

"Listen, man," he says. He takes a sip of his drink, then sets it down and turns to face Steve fully. "We all knew, when you guys broke up, that Tony didn't actually want that. You were the only one who seemed to think it was mutual. Bucky and I thought about talking to you about it, but Rhodey said we shouldn't, that Tony told him that this was what you wanted, and he'd just find a way to move on."

Steve sucks in a breath. He hadn't known.

Sam continues.

"I think you kinda fucked him up a bit when you broke things off. I also think you're right, he's still in love with you. Anyone with eyes can see it. But you broke his trust, and you need to earn it back."

"But how?"

"I can't tell you that. You know him better than I do. Hell, that's what you need to show him. That you know him. And you love him. And that if he decides to give it another shot, that you'll do what it takes to keep him this time."

Steve thinks back on his relationship with Tony, how the other man had always been the romantic one between them, doing little things here and there to show Steve he cared. He had taken all of this for granted when they were still together, and now he realizes that he could have done more for Tony. Steve gave up on them too easily. He gave up on time with Tony just so he could spend more time working on projects for clients that were awful to work with.

It wasn't worth it.

"Do you think I should make some sort of a grand gesture?" Steve asks.

"Man, I don't know. Probably not? Not when he's just completely rejected you. But maybe start small. Do little things for him to show him you care. I promise you, he'll appreciate that more."

Steve nods. He's got a lot of work to do. But it's okay. It's all for Tony.

#yep so i went with the no powers au #stevetony #stony #kay writes things #ask #anonymous

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unfortunatelycake · 2 years

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📓 I'm asking you about the thing.

Yay thank you for asking me about the thing!

Okay so... cliche romcom style kamabushi getting together via playing cupid...

Like, Kama has seen how Iai and Kamikaze look at each other. And she's sure that if they were just put in the right situations - stuck together in a dangerous situation, spending time together somewhere romantic, even set up on a blind date if things got really desperate - they would get together.

The moment just has to be right.

And of course she ropes Bushi into this. There's only so much she can do herself, and Bushi can provide The Male Mindset and help her figure out a way to effectively bully them into doing what she wants them to do.

Bushi is unexpectedly approving of her schemes, and they end up having weekly brainstorming sessions to decide what to do next when the schemes fall through (mostly due to the sheer idiocy of their friends, or the occasional monster-related disruption). Little by little they get to know each other better. Like, they already know each other pretty well, but all the time spent together as a group at training camps and so on is a lot different to the time they're spending together plotting to get their friends together.

Turns out Bushi is super romantic. And totally bashful about it at first too, until Kama stops teasing him for it and admits that his ideas are a million times better than hers and they are absolutely going to try this stuff out.

And 'trying stuff out' is exactly where things start to really change between them.

Because they wouldn't just randomly send Iai and Kamikaze to a restaurant they'd merely heard of. They have to test it first, to see if the food is the sort that their friends would like, and if the atmosphere is romantic enough that Kamikaze won't just sit there and grumble about the low lighting, and Iai won't snuff out the candle because it reflects too much upon his armour (Kama is still working on convincing him to not wear his armour when he isn't on active duty)

And like, Kamabushi need to check that the lake with the swan-shaped pedalos isn't just monster-infested enough that if any of them decide to pop up and cause trouble, Iai and Kamikaze can have a romantic near-drowning interlude. (And if they don't encounter monsters, that the outing is relaxing enough that they might start talking and finally confess to each other)

(Kamabushi had a near-drowning interlude. It wasn't particularly romantic, but Bushi was very sweet about Kama's ruined makeup, and when they reached the shore went to buy coffees whilst she ducked into the public toilets to fix it)

Eventually Kama kind of admits to herself that she's as invested in spending time with Bushi as she is in getting her best friend Iai to get together with Kamikaze. She hadn't really looked at Bushi that way until they started on this scheme, but now she can't stop thinking about him. He's nothing like her usual crushes, but he's so sweet. And he calls her out on her bullshit, which is kind of annoying but he does it in such a nice way that she can never stay mad (she just flirts with him in retaliation, and enjoys how red he turns... and sometimes Bushi flirts back)

Anyway eventually Iai and Kamikaze do end up together (that or it turns out they're already together and practically married; never decided which).

And Kama and Bushi congratulate each other on a job well done, and there's comments on both sides that they won't have to have those meetings together anymore to scheme their next move; they won't have to test out those date locations to see if they'll work for their idiot friends.

They part ways at the end of practice that day, and it hadn't escaped Kama's notice that Bushi seemed quieter than usual. Relief, she supposes. It had become pretty stressful, trying to get their idiot friends to notice their feelings for each other.

She heads home alone, missing when Bushi would come back with her, and they'd cook together, and plot.

But Kama is no fool. She knows there's nothing between Bushi and herself, and she's not at all the sort of woman Bushi is attracted to.

It sucks, because this is nothing like when she gets crushes on beautiful monsters and Amai Mask. But when it comes to genuine love, it's important to stay grounded in reality, and Bushi is not for her.

She tells herself not to mope over things that can never be, and gets to work cleaning up her apartment (finding a few little mementos of time with Bushi in the process, and putting them all into a box-- out of sight, out of mind, supposedly).

A little later, Bushi shows up at her door, his face as red as the roses he's holding.

"There's a restaurant I thought we could try," he says. "For us, this time."

Kama considers that maybe she is a bit of a fool after all.

(And they absolutely went to the restaurant, and it was as romantic as it needed to be)

#someone asked me the thing #thank you for asking me the thing #kamabushi #kakera rambles

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phanfictioncatalogue · 4 years

Text

Getting Together (6) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: November 24th, 2022

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

A New Start and Mending Hearts - placingglaciers

Summary: In which Dan reunites with his old childhood best friend, Phil, at work and he may or not be falling for him. However, it is their past that might be preventing anything favorable from happening.

A Night Reimagined (ao3) - LyricalPary

Summary: After getting stood up by his blind date, Phil decides to give up on the endless chase for romance. That is, until he encounters a crying boy on the bus ride home. Somehow, they end up spending the night together.

anocht, beidh muid (tonight, we will) (ao3) - werebothstubborn

Summary: when phil walks into a dingy bar on the outskirts of galway, he's not sure what to expect - least of all, a beautiful, irish-speaking fiddle player named dan.

a theism in evolution (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: The sungod, Phil, sends letters to Mother Gaia. He puts all his worries into words… even when he himself can't see right through them

Axiom (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: Dan's out for the umpteenth time at the bar for its weekly speed-dating night (not that they'd actually call it that).

Benefits Of Talking To Photographs - ihavecoldhands

Summary: Dan meets the love of his life at three am in an empty Starbucks. Consequences of Following Fate from Dan’s POV.

blue moon (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: it's storming in the middle of the night in a city not his own and phil's phone is dead, which means he has no choice but to slink back to the flat he's just snuck out of... the flat of the once-famous youtuber with whom he's just had his very first one night stand

coffee at midnight (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: A recent trauma has lead Phil to embrace a ‘try new things’ approach to his life. One of those new things is learning how to swim, and Dan is the lifeguard who’s going to teach him.

Distance does not have to be a problem (ao3) - Phantje

Summary: Dan lives in the South of England, Phil lives in the North. They meet at a party from Dan's theatrical group. Dan has unknowingly left quite an impression on Phil. Phil saves himself as a contact when all his attempts to make a move don't succeed. Dan is just happy to leave the party. When he eventually texts Phil the next day to see if it was genuine or a stupid joke Dan starts to wish he was Phil's friend. So does Phil but his thoughts lead a bit further.

Follow them on their journey to getting to know each other through texts, phone calls, visists and malcommunication. :D

friends don't treat me like you do (ao3) - internetakeover (nymeriahale)

Summary: Why had Dan agreed to this? Pretending to be Phil’s boyfriend at his ex’s wedding had seemed like a nice idea at first, a way to meet some of Phil’s old university friends while helping him avoid humiliation, but already Dan’s on edge. If Dan allows himself to relax for a day, lets himself watch Phil as much as he wants, touch Phil as much as he wants, carry on their flirtatious banter when normally he’d laugh it off... he’s worried about what Phil might see.

Hidden Door (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: The trip of a lifetime, a confusing bathroom, and best friends secretly in love with each other.

How Did We End Up Here? (ao3) - mollieblack

Summary: Dan agrees to donate sperm to a lesbian couple who are friends of his. Things go wrong, and the baby ends up without a home, and Dan and Phil are left to figure out what to do with the child, and how this could affect their relationship.

If It Happened During Spin The Bottle (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: Phil can’t stop thinking about that game of spin the bottle. Dan’s already forgotten.

Keep It Down - ineverhadmyinternetphase

Summary: Phil wants a quiet life. That’s all he’s asked for. He doesn’t want the new neighbour to blast music at him at 2 in the morning, so if he would kindly stop then that’s all Phil needs.

Metamorphosis - auroraphilealis

Summary: Once upon a time, Dan Howell and Phil Lester were best friends. They did everything together, from hanging out at each other’s house, to sitting next to each other at school - but one day, Dan was torn away from Phil by none other than Phil himself. Five years on, and Dan still doesn’t know why his best friend threw Dan away. Was it the fault of the bullies who relentlessly picked on Phil, or was it Dan himself? Dan just didn’t know. So when a chance to protect Phil and get his best friend back arises, Dan jumps on it in a heartbeat, and uses his own confidence to boost Phil’s just enough to make the bullies back away.

Middle of Somewhere (ao3) - det395

Summary: Phil's an apprentice at a library who is drawn to a regular visitor with fluffy hair and a questionable attitude

Teaching Phil to Enjoy Sex - auroraphilealis

Summary: Dan and Phil have been dating for 6 months, but they haven’t gone much further than making out, as Phil’s a virgin. Despite Dan’s sexual frustration, its Phil who eventually grows frustrated at their lack of sex life.Deciding to take matters into his own hands to get over his fears, Phil tries to force them into getting over this hump in their relationship using a butt plug. Things go horribly wrong –or horribly right?

Smut, Blowjob, Mutual Masturbation, Misuse of a Butt Plug

Things That No Longer Need Mention (ao3) - abriata

Summary: The kissing doesn’t stop.

Two weeks later, Dan has a hand in Phil’s hair and Phil’s hand on his spine and he basically can’t feel his mouth anymore, and they were supposed to have left for the BBC ten minutes ago.

Dan still has no idea why Phil is doing the kissing thing, but it’s definitely too late to ask now.

throw our hands overboard (ao3) - dizzy, waveydnp

Summary: prompt: Can I request some modern day fwb? Totally up to you guys how you interpret that :)

with a bullet (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: phil returns to his room after a party thrown by his housemates only to discover that there’s already someone in his bed

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #gettingtogether #gettingtogether masterlist

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imasimpforstevengrant · 5 years

Text

I feel you

Author's note:

@raven-romanoff

@maristela1968

For you again, lovelies!

This is the first smut I write after almost two years. I hope you like it!

As always, sorry for any typos. English is not my first language.

____________________________________

Summary: Follow up to "I understand you".

As his strange relationship with Harleen oscillates between friendship and desire, Arthur takes the things to another level.

Warnings: angst, self hatred, mentions of masturbation, swearing, house breaking, strong sexual themes and smut.

Words: 6.258

Part 1:

Part 2:

____________________________________

Arthur couldn't sleep that night. His mind, overtaken by a growing confidence, tormented with new feelings for her created a dark, devilish smile in his face. He closed the door carefully, taking off his hoodie, shirt and shoes, wearing only sweatpants around the house, smoking a cigarette. He sat on the couch, knees bouncing. Something in his chest burns. That night Arthur felt different. He felt sure of his actions, instead of the usual anxiety and fear. Replaying the wonderful moment which he was the protagonist of, savoring every detail, while directing to the table. Her voice echoed through his head, her smile painting across his memory, the way she looked at him. His feet weren't able to keep still and Arthur knew this hyperventilation was caused by the shock of his first intimate contact with a woman. He already planned what he would do once they'd meet again. Probably to take her to dinner or simply going to the playground with a coffee and cigarettes to spend the night talking.

Handing himself his treasured journal, Arthur searched for the section dedicated to her. Grabbing a pen, he wrote her name. Misspelled, but affectionately.

Harlen Quenzel.

He tried in vain to write anything else, because his mind clouded basking in a bliss he had never felt before.

The blinding white light coming from above the kitchen hindered the happy replay of the image of Harleen coming closer to him to kiss his lips. But he simply turned it off. The tips of his fingers touched the dry flesh blessed by her mouth. Lighting a cigarette he fantasizes now. Taking her in the floor, in the bedroom or in the couch... She would love it. Arthur guaranteed himself that. The proof was clear: she had enjoyed his sudden and explosive display of passion. He suppressed a chuckle, afraid of another fit of laughter. But it did not go further. He stood in the dark for a while, before going to the couch to try to get some sleep. His mind was way too excited to even hold his legs still. The lucky loner grabbed the pack of cigarettes, smoking another one immediately after finishing the other one. Thing was, he couldn't consummate his passion in this moment... But he certainly could let his mind fly by thinking about Harleen and her virtues for now. Arthur headed to the bathroom.

A little joy given by himself wouldn't be so bad. ________________________________________

Over the next two months, the strange relationship between Arthur and Harleen grew from a friendship that had frequent outbursts of passion to long hours of talking about anything, from work to jokes.

As much as Arthur felt a silently uncontrollable lust for Harleen, he truly felt affection and caring for her. This was shown in small gestures like inviting her to dinner or waiting up late when her shift was over whenever neither of them would spend the entire night sleeping. They had each other and it was okay with that. In was in these situations where their bond grew. It was so ironic that the one thing that prevented an actual rest to his tormented mind also allowed to have the closest and most meaningful relationship he ever had in his life.

Arthur became more introverted than he already was. He didn't talk too much at work and had the growing tendency to isolate from others. To his co-workers this was probably another demonstration of his deteriorated mental state but Arthur was too busy trying to cope with these new feelings. He was asked more than once about this but he avoided to answer, limiting to reply he was okay. At the end of the day, the party clown left with a anxious pace. His co-workers were sure Arthur had finally lost his mind. And in some way, he did. Why was he in a rush? They would never know.

It was saturday when things changed. Arthur came back from a gig to Haha's with his clown make up on. Once in, he cleaned it from his face to leave without saying anything afterwards, too withdrawn into his daydreaming. He set a foot into the bus, as always, facing the window. The lights of daylight disappeared into the darkness or the night, rain pouring out. Arthur shielded from the cold sinking into his partly tattered hoodie. By this hour, Harleen should have been in her workplace. He just hoped no one would harm her at the time of her return. Arthur thought he could wait for her at the building's entrance, making sure she was safe. Harleen would like it.

He thought this weekend would be different. And Arthur had a very good reason why.

_________________________________________

It was Sunday when Arthur got up early to clean the house and to prepare breakfast for Penny to feed during the first lights of day.

It was in this way he could focus completely on his upcoming date at night. As the day vanished for nighttime to arrive, he put a cheap cologne on, his pants perfectly ironed. Same with the shirt and red vest. And the usual yellow hoodie Harleen learned to love so much. His excitement reflected in his voice as he waved goodbye to his always distracted mother, who simply waved back, not interested on how much brighter Arthur's eyes were in that moment. Heading to the door, he heard a frustrating ask:

"Happy, can you put this letter in the box?"

His shoulders lose strength. Arthur tried his best to hide his annoyance.

"It's for Thomas Wayne".

"I know, mom", the whisper was almost inaudible. Returning to the living room, he took the letter gently just to jump back to the door to free himself, "I'll be back at night".

She just nodded. And he finally breathed his freedom, feeling more confident than ever. But his sense of victory over the world vanished as he realized he still had that fucking letter in hand. A tired sigh leaves his lips. But he ran as fast as possible to reach the first floor to get rid of the piece of useless attempt to get attention from a man who maybe didn't remember her. The rusty locker received it and Arthur at last could set a foot outside the building, crossing his arms.

Harleen arrived a few seconds later. Arthur smiled, coming closer to her. Her outfit was unpretentious but neat: black pants and sneakers, a red wool sweater. Her hair was done into two colourful buns and a few strands which fell into her face. But the thing he liked the most was that blood red lipstick... And her grin made it better.

"Hello, clown man", Harleen nuzzled his nose tenderly. It was an habit he loved from her, as any other touch. He chuckled, greeting her back. Then both got out of the building, leading to the donut shop so they could have coffee and toast.

"So, how was your week?", Harleen asked as Arthur held his cup, drinking the steamy hot liquid.

"It was fine. I had a gig in a children's hospital. It turned out great because it was a charity event".

"Really?"

"Yeah. They were... Getting money for families that cannot afford to pay treatments".

Harleen nodded, warming her hands with the mug. Arthur then returned the question. Harleen told him the bar had more regulars than usual. This caught her eye, and paid very much attention to it during the weekly shift.

"What is it?".

"People are drinking their souls out" she replied, after eating her toast, "and that's not all. There was a recently fired guy that feared if Wayne is elected mayor, unemployment and riots will get worse."

Arthur lowered his head. He ate the toast to state:

"Why do so many people believe in that man, anyway?"

"He's rich, successful and an entrepreneur. Men like him have no idea how to run a city for the simple fact that entrepreneurs like him see people as numbers, not as complex sentient beings."

"How come?", Arthur fixed his collar.

"They only care for economy, Arthur. They disregard the fact that not everyone has the same chances for success they had and therefore any help for impoverished people is nothing but a "waste of money". Wayne is convinced that everyone who receives any kind of welfare doesn't want to work." Arthur remained silent for a while, processing what she just said.

"Men like him will never know what is like to be someone like you or me", Harleen concluded, finishing her coffee.

"But at least we have our jobs" Arthur commented comically.

"Yeah, as long as we get paid" and both laughed.

The shop was almost empty, which made easier to listen to the radio while talking. This gave them more topics to talk about. But then a song came out. Arthur knew it, he closed his eyes, engulfing himself in the gloomy tune of the song:

"King of all

Hear me call

Hear my name

Carnival"

Harleen did not interrupt. She understood that Arthur, as an extremely introverted person, couldn't be interrupted when exploring, talking or listening. It was pleasant to see him glad or enjoying things for once. She smiled as he mouthed the lyrics, which he knew perfectly. As the song came to an end, Harleen extended her hand, eyeing Arthur to look for his approval. As much as he enjoyed the sudden outbursts of affection, Arthur still wasn't used to publicly show it. Harleen comprehended as well and wouldn't force him to do it. She discovered it when going back from a previous date when she just held his hand. He became a blushing mess but it didn't go further, thank goodness.

Arthur noted the hand whose black and red nail polish established a hurtful contrast in comparison to her light skin. He then looked at her. He slid his own towards Harleen's. Their hands intertwined. Another little touch and he was already yearning for her. Arthur wanted to love her without words, without distance between them. Just the two of them. He wanted so much to tell her, but didn't dare to. Despite the fact he adored her, there was something he could never tell her... Yet.

There was something Arthur loathed about himself but he did his best to not to give it too much importance, choosing to focus on other things, instead. Arthur Fleck was a man and as such, he had needs. But the need wasn't the problem. Satisfying it was. He was comprehensive enough to understand that motherly affection was the closest thing he ever had to love. Devoid of any bond with anyone else, he frequently masturbated to soothe the sexual need. Usually to porn magazines whose pages he tore up to stick them in his journal. A fulfilling sexual life was a dream, far away from his reach. He could only see it but never take part in it, as it was with everything in his life. An eternal spectator, never a protagonist. Thinking of her, lusting after her... And he wasn't able to even mutter a fucking word. He cursed the emptiness roaming during all his life. Because he had nothing to offer her except desire. His inexperience was never a problem, given his surrender to embrace a life of solitude. Until now. Her arrival to his life made him remember how much of a man he was. And her kindness just fanned the fire within him.

Harleen squeezed his hand a little more, noting his unsettled nerve. Arthur sighed, out of the gloomy, bleak storm that creeped out as a dark mist in his mind. But her face shines as a small light of hope. Her eyes promised so many good things that he couldn't bring himself to believe.

"What's troubling you, Mr. Fleck?" her smile was accomplice, as if she knew what was lurking into the labyrinth of his mind, but wanting to hear it from his mouth.

"I just... I was thinking about...", Harleen encouraged him to tell her. He inhaled deeply, lighting a cigarette to cope with the newfound stress. Once again, his everlasting negative thoughts clouded the moment. The vocal cords were unresponsive. His hand broke contact with hers to hold his forehead, looking for the right words to speak. His knees bounced. Harleen leaned in, waiting.

"Artie?"

The tender pronunciation of the diminutive form of his name turned his gaze to her.

"I think I prefer to tell you... In private".

Harleen nodded. The response sounded too dark. And she knew that if Arthur talked like that, it was something serious. They left the donut shop, walking towards the subway. It was almost empty and dark. Just a few people were on it. The couple sit down, with Harleen tangling the arm around his to tilt her head on his shoulder. Arthur kept his eyes on the window, trying to figure out how the fuck he'd tell her about it.

As they reached the last stop, they left the subway station to step up the stairs and then Arthur reached a dirty, dark public restroom surrounded on the outside of a fence. Both stopped for a moment before the gnawed door. Harleen looked up to the party clown's dark features. He pronounced no words.

"Arthur?"

"There's something I need to tell you", his murmur comes shy, cast down.

"What is it?"

He stepped away from her. His hands clasp his mouth, disapproving his thoughts. He shook his head, eyes shut. Circling his own personal space, lightheaded. Harleen came closer to him.

"Is it bad?"

Arthur glared at her, guilty.

"I mean... I don't know how to tell you. I just hope you don't laugh at me".

"Why would I do that?".

Arthur half opened his eyes.

"I want...", It took a long, deep inhalation to pronounce the first part. He coughed, to clear his throat seconds later, "I need to tell you... That I really like you... And--", he silenced his words, trying to put them correctly in his mind.

"And?"

"See" he sighed, "I've..."

Harleen widened her eyes in anticipation.

"I've been thinking about you a lot... and I would be lying if I tell you I don't want something else".

"What is 'something else'?" Harleen whispered.

Arthur processed the question. And then answered:

"It's just..." He brushed the small beads of sweat on his forehead with the palm of his hand, "I love the way you touch me, Harleen" Arthur continued, "and I simply can't get enough of it".

"Because we both need it, Arthur. I love just as much as you do. That makes it so satisfying", he chuckled, humbled. Harleen expected more of him.

"That's not all", he gazed not to her. This was the one moment that could end it all or strengthen this precious bond of theirs.

"Arthur" she called him, "don't be afraid. Please tell me".

"I want to sleep with you", Arthur finally confessed, gazing at her. His eyes confirmed the statement. He blinked slowly, wanting her to see the animalistic yearn on them.

Harleen stared at him, shocked of how much he trusted her to confess something so intimate. His breathe had shortened. His green eyes glowed like emeralds, embellished even more with his pupils dilated. The blonde invited him inside the bathroom so they could keep baring their souls. Arthur inspected the place to make sure it was completely safe to stay there. Harleen locked the door once they knew it was unoccupied.

"I don't want to beg for love" Arthur said, his voice raspy, "but I don't want to lie to you. I want to know if you feel the same" Arthur spoke in a very low voice. Harleen looked at him, infatuated before this new dark vibe from him. He looked like a totally different person. Her fingers slid into his curls.

"I knew it already, Arthur."

"And why doesn't it bother you?"

"Because I can understand why you want it".

Arthur turned to her. Never in his life he felt more expecting. Harleen explained, in very simple terms, that she found his attachment understandable: Arthur had been deprived of love during all his life and this new bond made him feel important. From becoming visible and cared for to reaffirm his manhood through sexual desire. Arthur heard every word carefully, and it made sense. Everything made fucking sense. It was through sexual intercourse that men felt loved.

Love.

It was always about love, at the end of all.

Harleen returned the cigarette to him.

"Don't blame yourself. You're a human, after all. Sex is the most pleasant of human activities, so don't feel bad for enjoying it".

"It's not that I don't enjoy it. I don't feel ready to do it, despite of how much I want it".

Harleen frowned, and her silence just made Arthur confess one of his most (if not the most) shameful secrets. Only now she knew the extent of her impact in his life. She knew a lot about him, including the seven medications he was in, but this? She had been aware of the way he looked at her, but hearing him actually admitting it out loud made her shudder. Her arms locked around his shoulders to pull Arthur to a kiss in the cheek.

"It's not a race or a competition. You just feel and act according to your instincts. Also, I'd be lying too if I said I don't want anything else" Arthur sank his eyes into Harleen's, "quite frankly, we were close to have sex the night we first talked if it wasn't because I was too tired to do so, but now, if you don't feel ready to do it, I won't pressure you to do anything".

"Starting a friendship in that way? I like it" he hummed, mischievous.

"We are not friends... Because... Friends are not supposed to touch each other. That's what lovers do. But... We aren't lovers, yet" Harleen whispered.

"Then what are we?" Arthur asked.

"We are, Arthur. We simply are" this time her kiss directed to his mouth. _________________________________________

Arthur changed his damp clothes to avoid the cold. The bedroom TV was turned on as well as the hall lights. The usual. He prepared the dinner for his mother, bathing her and making sure she'd go to bed. The conversation was the same. Thomas fucking Wayne and the fucking letters. Arthur had no interest on losing energy on nonsense, so he only nodded. He took a shower and shaved the growing beard and wore his grey sweatpants. A few observations written in the pages of the journal about his day at Haha's and Arthur felt his routine was finished, therefore he could count down to the moment when Harleen was back at home from work. His eyes darted at the clock. 1:14 am. Less than two hours for her return. He felt confident enough to go to her apartment and stay all night with her. He smoke five cigarettes in the meantime, walking over the house. Turning the TV on so time wouldn't pass so long. He sat at the couch, waiting for an old rerun of Murray Franklin's Show. An actor was to be interviewed but he couldn't focus entirely on it. He laid down. His mind pictured her beside him. However, as much as he cherished all the physical and emotional affection from her, it wasn't enough anymore. It was hard to accept it but that's just the way it was. As the show ended, an old movie ran. Arthur turned the device off. The clock sets the time: 2:24 am. Less than hour. He got up, turning the lights off, hoodie in hand and determination in his mind. Locking the door, Arthur left. He walked across the halls, stepping down to the destination: 7H. The door was unlocked, much to his surprise. The loner felt truly in home. If only she was in there for him to shower her in his affection. But he then realized the neon lights were on. His heart skipped a beat. The air seemed... Different. He stood as quiet as possible to see what was going on. The rain slightly broke the total silence that ruled the place. Arthur reached the living and then, only then, he saw her.

Harleen was placidly sleeping on the couch, wearing a two part, peach coloured pajamas. Her mane was a mess of white, blue and pink strands that fell over her face. Her head rested on a pillow and her pose revealed how comfy her sleep was. Kneeling beside the couch, Arthur leaned over her face, his fingers set aside the colourful mane to obtain the beautiful vision of her peaceful facial expression. His thumb glided over her lips, which he soon joined with his. It was slow, intimate kiss, full of subtle hunger.

Seconds later, her hands cupped his face to make the caress steadier, humming playfully. Arthur broke the kiss to eye her. Half sleep, Harleen smiled at him.

"Hey" he called, secretive.

"Good night, Mr. Fleck", she muttered, voice pasty, "another insomnia night?" but he shook the head.

"I thought you weren't here. I couldn't help it", he muttered.

“Never said I mind. Bar closed earlier and here I am”.

“Really? Why?”

“The riots, Arthur. Boss preferred to send us home before any damage could be done by the protesters”.

Arthur made room for himself in the cozy, fluffy long couch. Asking if she was okay, Harleen just replied she took a taxi to make home safely. Arthur sighed, relieved. The blonde smiled at him but didn’t move any further. He noticed that, blaming for being so inconsiderate. Getting into her apartment and disturbing her rest like that? What a awful friend (lover) he was! Recoiling with guilt and diving again in the brooding mood so typical on him, he distanced from his love. She fell asleep once more. Arthur kept his gaze on her, tracing invisible touches in her curves. She was so close yet so far. He wanted to be a part of her, to be with her.

Inside of her.

The calloused fingers held his face to wash away the shame. The nerves were too much to take. The laugh gestated in a noise initially deaf to hear from afar to a thunderous fit. Harleen jolted at the sudden outburst. Arthur couldn’t feel worse. The expression on his face was so desperate for silence that the blonde immediately went after him when he shrugged, attempting in vain to drown the horrible noise that made his vocal cords bleed. Harleen dissuaded Arthur of any idea of escape just to hold him. The mentally ill loner sank his face into her neck. The embrace didn’t stop the scandalous explosion to keep shattering the quietness of the place, sensing Harleen squeezed his faint figure, seemingly trying to put every piece of his broken yet beautiful soul to help to soothe the pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“

Her voice hushed his apologize. As the din disappeared into nothingness, both returned to the living room on the couch but Arthur took a step back from her.

“Why?”

Puzzled, Harleen frowns. She gave him space to recover.

“Why what?”

“Why me?”, Arthur regained strength to ask her, staring at her for a long period of time, “of all men you can have, why me?”

For the first time, Harleen seemed upset.

“If you think I do this out of pity, you are very, very wrong” the fire in her eyes was fascinating.

“Then why?”

Harleen processed the question while Arthur desperately awaited the reason to be verbalised.

“Please”.

She gulped.

“Because you’re a good man, Arthur”.

The response was too simple to be believable, though it was grateful to hear a compliment from her. Desiring more, his stare pierced her soul, to let her take the hint. Imprisoned under the green spell of his, Harleen proceeded to continue:

“I mean- you are always trying to make people laugh, yet people don’t see you and you still continue. You love what you do, you have been kind to me, you care about your mother putting your well-being aside. Don’t you think that is worth enough?”

Arthur shut his eyes, his head to the left, lighting a cigarette while the bouncing knee betrayed his feeling of unsettlement. Harleen noticed it. Wind took words away. Actions prevailed in time.

Time! That’s precisely what he needed. Both battled uneasiness in their own, unique way. While Harleen on her own end of the couch thought on a way to help him, Arthur tried to give order to his convulsed mind. He constantly touched his forehead and chest but never dared to eye her, terrified that she would vanish. The damn cigarette placed again on his lips. The muteness grew so uncomfortable the loner returned to glare at the blonde. She slowly approached to him, searching in his face his approval to get closer. Afraid to disturb his personal space in the same way someone would be cautious when getting closer to a wild animal. Arthur gasped, his blood boiling in what seemed the exact moment that would define his life. Harleen crawled to him, reaching his shoulders to concrete her goal: sit in the space between his legs.

If Arthur believed that just a hug put him on fire, this new contact aroused him to the point of insanity. The blonde crowned the physical bond placing her head in the crook of his neck. The temptation to take her and possess her now was insufferable but he found the will to not give in into the impulsive reaction. How? He’d never know. His heart rate was so violent, so overwhelming that the threat of a heart attack was becoming more real. Harleen placed her hand on his chest, like caressing his damaged heart like a mother would do with an scared child. His lungs finally caught a calmer rhythm as minutes went by. Arthur craved new touches, new discoveries, yet he wanted to remain like this forever. He savoured the closeness of their bodies… but it wasn’t enough. Harleen surely knew it by the moment Arthur stopped smoking.

And whenever Arthur Fleck stopped smoking, it meant something serious got his attention.

As the last fire on the cigarette died on the ashtray, Arthur turned his focus completely on her. He’d return her the favour, since she invaded his personal space so shamelessly. Harleen distanced a bit from him to allow the hoodie to come off. She approved the sight with a wide smirk: despite what people could say about his figure, Arthur was not as thin as his outfit revealed. His bare upper body had a plenty of muscle in the biceps. She traced a finger across the aforementioned part to touch his jawline now, going down his neck and collarbone. Next, a nuzzle against his face to continue the intimate bond, brushing her lips with his, without kissing him. However there was no further reaction from him except for a serene look on his face at the caresses. As the touch came to an end, she kissed his mouth repeatedly, her lips curved into a smile. The gesture motivated his instinct to get the better of him. He rose his dark, thick eyebrow to let her know how much of an accomplice he turned out to be, like a warning of what he had planned for her.

It was almost a ritual. Whenever a situation turned out to be too unfamiliar or too good, his hands would act as the link to confirm his psyche wasn't playing tricks with him. But this wasn't only a situation. This was a person who unchained a situation. And how he thanked every second of it. It seemed a spark of happiness enlightened his life, for once. Probably because even fate believed that no human being should be so miserable. He needed a constant reaction from her to keep convincing himself this wasn’t a dream. To increase the enjoyment of his hands touching her, Arthur executed a move directed to her chest, gliding his hands over her breasts, covered by the thin fabric of the sleeveless shirt. Harleen gasped, eyeing the curious hands as they roamed upon that delicate part of her. Arthur was fascinated, as his grin evidently brought out.

Since he had understanding about sex, Arthur craved a woman’s touch. It began as wet dreams, continuing with the subsequent discover of porn, a source he always went to in order to provide himself a little satisfaction. He remembered the particularly unhappy time of highschool, where bullying and harsh looks were a routine. The laughing fits during class, boys from all ages mocking at him during recess. But lunchtime was the worst part. If he wasn’t beaten up, his food paid the price. Starving and tired, Arthur was relieved in part by dropping school. He wouldn’t have to deal with the brutality of his classmates anymore. Girls usually avoided him, scared by his weak appearance. He never asked a girl for a date, afraid to be taken as a pervert. He just repressed any sexual need, feeling like a depraved creep for being curious about female body.

The mental drift continued for a couple of minutes when he noticed that Harleen wasn’t too quiet now, her shortened breath revealing an intense joy at his touch. As it happened always in a moment of adrenaline, through his arms an herculean strength ran so intensely that made her sit on his lap with no problem. The most exciting part of this new bold position was that he could face his lover, aiming his interest to her neck, covering it with slow, paused kisses. Harleen supports on his shoulders, delighted at his intimate exploration. Her shortened breath became a heavy panting while the latter morphed into a loud moan. Arthur immediately looked up to the blonde, her mane tickling his face. Did he caused such wonderful reaction? Him? Arthur Fleck, the perpetual loser, the unfunny clown, the embodiment of what a man should never be?

Suddenly, the grip loosened. Arthur felt he couldn’t concentrate anymore on Harleen in the same way. A sensation similar to fainting snatched away the energy on his arms. A surge of boiling blood flowed down his groin.

Arthur knew what this meant and her thighs straddling his hips, exactly where his searing intimacy reacted to such delectable recreation.

This encouraged him to let his wildest side come out. The pale hands lifted the shirt to the level of her neck, obtaining her bare chest to devour while getting into the inner part of the shirt, leaving the barrier between skin and fabric behind his back. Harleen reared up before the fulminant demonstration of lust, screaming while clawing at his shoulders. She felt his mouth, eager and famished, assiduously paying dedication to her soft sinuosities. The position enabled her to coddle him as well.

Because he fucking deserved it.

Her fingers stirred the dark curls under the cloth, begging for more. When Arthur felt the arousal was too much to keep building it up to simple caresses, he threw the shirt aside to obtain her upper nude body to admire. His eyes widened as the glimpse was even more beautiful in reality than in his fantasies. He hummed, approving the sight, too anxious to take her and yet so insecure if she’d be satisfied.

The blonde tugged into his belt, making clear her desire to pursue a deeper insight of their relationship. Her body performed a subtle movement to make him lay down on his back. As Arthur got rid of his clothes, so she did. Once she reached her own full nudity, he covered his mouth, amazed. Forget the models in his journal. Harleen had no comparison. And she probably knew it.

“Do you like what you see, mister Fleck?” she purred, seductive. He panted, regaining the oxygen to answer.

“Yes” was all he answered. Arthur could hardly speak at this point. His eyes said everything, anyway. The tease was a gift before the beloved blonde climbed atop him. Arthur helped her, grabbing her by the hips he longed so much to trace his fingers on.

Harleen leaned over his face to grant it a last kiss, enjoying this final step preceding to the loss of individuality.

She seemed so unreal, even when her full weight upon him proved wrong. And he knew exactly what to do to prove his psyche otherwise.

The last trace of doubt disappeared completely as his own sex found itself inside of her at last. The insertion was very slow, no rushes, so both lovers could memorize every sensation. The pressure around his hardened length turned out to be a pleasure beyond the thinkable, causing a shuddering, fastened breath to crumple his lungs. He arched his back, a loud, pleasurable moan escaping his mouth. As he got used to the warm welcome she gave him, his hands held her hips to proceed. Harleen lolled her head back, moaning softly, rejoicing at his presence inside of her delicate womanhood. Stillness held their bodies together as they enjoyed the sensation brought by the union.

Arthur recovered from the initial shock before the long desired loss of his hated celibacy started to take place. Harleen, naked much to the delight of his eyes, had her white, porcelain skin beautifully shaded by the pink and blue dim neon lights. Arthur smirked at her, admiring her body with his hands, not to convince himself that he was not hallucinating but to make sure to tell her how much he had desired to do this.

Just then Harleen did her magic.

“Let me show you that you’re not invisible”.

The rhythm worked in a slow pace. The blonde’s masterful moves made him moan and groan loudly as she straddled his hips. Everything he imagined with her appalled in comparison to this. Harleen, so provocative and prodigious, was so delicate in this erotic surrender. Like almost floating in the air. Arthur wondered how much it could take until reaching the peak of the carnal pleasure. But the obnoxious thud that beat his brain even in this moment found itself defeated by this lovely and pleasurable novelty, eventually. Watching Harleen on top of him was an irresistible landscape and Arthur couldn’t be more grateful for it even if he tried.

And her moans didn’t help either. Harleen was too lost in the moment to even talk to him, restricting her vocal expressions of pleasure just to plead for more.

Arthur plunged in this novelty to feel like a man for the first time in his life. He chuckled, joyful. His concentration centered exclusively on her. Harleen was a living mess of ecstasy, away from reality. He couldn’t love her more, specially when she called his name. The grip on her hips became tighter, as the warm space that surrounded his arousal narrowed. Her moans arose to louder screams. Now that was something he wanted to hear, sliding his fingers up to her waist to her chest.

The sense of control began to disappear eventually.

The instigation inspired a new move from Arthur, who got up to enclose her waist to absorb her essence. Fastening the moves, the blonde threw her arms to his neck, increasing the union as much as they were able. Their screams echoed through the apartment, announcing the proximity of the climax.

The final frenzy took ahold of the lovers. It hit Harleen first, as the convulsion whipped her insides, her figure trembling.

Arthur was convinced his soul was living his body at the time of his climax. While Harleen allowed him to flood her with his seed, he held her hips to keep inside her the longest time possible. The passionate, fulfilling embrace that served as the conclusion to the act recomposed their sense of reality. Once the physical bond was broken, the lovers laid back in the couch. Arthur still had a hard time recovering from his first sexual experience. His lungs finally eased down as Harleen reassuringly talked to him. Arthur opened his eyes, to smile to her.

“That…” he stuttered, breathless, “that… was… fucking sensational”.

Harleen supported her head in her hand.

“Couldn’t agree more”.

Arthur smiled and didn’t resist the temptation to sink into her arms, awaiting for sleep to come. He gave himself in completely, handing his vulnerability to her. Harleen sighed, palming his back. Arthur recoiled in pain and she didn’t hesitate to apologize.

“What’s this?” Harleen was going to get up to check him out but he prevented it, shaking his head. Apparently it didn’t have too much importance for him.

“I want this” his whisper sounded legitimately grateful. He took her hands to kiss them dearly, “I want this”.

She nodded and then changed her position so Arthur could place himself upon her. Her open arms received his fragile, starving shape to grant it comfort, like remind him of how much of a man he could be. The loner muttered something, but Harleen was already sleeping. Arthur didn’t move at all, silently enjoying her chest moving up and down. He planted a kiss above her right breast and closed his eyes.

The rain intensified. And Arthur fell asleep in a state of complete inner peace for the first time in his life as the pink lights dissipated into black as his eyes slowly closed.

It was the most beautiful darkness he’d ever been in.

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