#What I also like ( me complimenting my own work i fucking guess ) is her overly talking and him using just the right amount of words and th

[hymnoire]

𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐙𝐀 & 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌

       @stillresolved asked for an incorrect quote

[iambilliejeanok]

🤎A Break With My Lover.🤎

Part One

Pairing: Might Guy x Tenji( made up character)

Summary: Tenj is back from her two month mission and is so excited to spend time with her new boyfriend Guy, who pampers and adores her. Just a cute little short story for all my Guy sensei hoes to enjoy.😊

Warnings: 18+, language, fluff, SFW and NSFW, smut.

Tenji now stood at the entrance of the Hokage mansion, grateful to have been granted a full week's rest after her team worked tirelessly for a full two months. Another breeze blew a curl that dangled from her loose bun into her face, not caring in the slightest to put it back in its place. Her main goal was to reach her beloved apartment and take a much needed cool shower to wash away the grim, sweat and blood that clung to her aching body. With her eyes closed she inhaled a deep long breath, forcing herself to take the first step. Her body felt so heavy and her mind fuzzy, a sudden wave of fatigue ripping a whine from deep in her throat. “Oi, Tenji,” a sharp flick on the side of her neck immediately snapped her out of her sluggish mood. “Tch! Genma what the fuck,” a sly smirk appearing on his smug face as he took pleasure in her frustration, relishing the irritated look he managed to put on her face. “Well hello to you too Tenji, it's been too long, glad that you're back and in one piece it seems,” he spoke as he gave her a quick once over, ensuring that she was really in one piece and he hopefully hadn’t spoken too soon. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes as he inspected her obviously fatigued face, a hint of sympathy pulled at his heart realising she would probably have to walk all the way home on her own despite how tired she was. Tenji noticed the slight worry in his light brown eyes and instantly thought of a plan. Maybe she could convince him to carry her home after seeing the state she was in. “I’m okay I guess, I’m so tired, just wish i had help getting home Genma,” she whimpered as she stepped closer, leaning her chubby cheek into his broad, muscular chest, she looked up at him, hopeful that her long time buddy would show even the tiniest bit kindness he claimed to have, pulling her best puppy face while looking into his light brown eyes, her darker eyes needy as her full lips curved into a pout that he almost gave into until he realised what she was up to. Now, it’s not that he didn’t want to help(maybe a little) but it was also that he had already been summoned by the Hokage and couldn’t afford to be later than he already was and also because he knew Tenji could be such a spoiled brat sometimes and he was not in the mood to baby her today. He averted his gaze and placed two long, slender fingers on her forehead before gently nudging her off of him. “Geez Tenji” , his words almost sounding empathetic until he opened his mouth again, “Good luck finding someone who will help you with that”. Tenji’s mouth hung open in utter defeat as Genma walked right past her, not missing how he unashamedly took in the gorgeous sight of her full, round ass, her uniform gracefully complimenting it with the way her pants clung desperately to the curve of her hips and hugged her ass in a way that he would always appreciate. “Tch”, Tenji scoffed as she turned fully to face him, his soft light, brown eyes slowly climbing up her body taking in her front, failing to hide the disappointment in them, missing the blessed sight she turned away from him, reluctantly looking back up into her darker orbs to wink at her, disappearing into the Hokage mansion. She blamed herself for expecting anything from that perverted bastard, as she hesitantly began her dreadful walk down the busy streets of Konoha.

Tenji kept her eyes glued to the ground, drowning out the sounds of the happy village folk all around her, as she continued on replaying how good it would feel to walk into her apartment and pamper herself to a nice shower and some well needed rest. A low growl from her tummy dirsturbed her train of thought, reminding her of her deep hunger for some delicious, warm food. The divine, savory smell of Ichiraku’s ramen, not helping her best attempts at ignoring it and heading home, her fatigue too overwhelming for her to entertain her hunger as she stood in front of the little ramen restaurant. “Tenji sensei!,” a loud voice erupting out of nowhere pulled her attention directly in front of her. A young and enthusiastic Lee stood in her path, the biggest grin spreading on his face, clearly excited to see her. A mini Might Guy, always bringing a deep nostalgic feeling in her heart, he was far too adorable for her to not smile at him, despite the exhaustion that tugged at her eyelids, with his little green jumpsuit, “Lee-san, so good-,” she was suddenly cut off as two large hands tugged at her waist, lifting her up and tossing her high into the air, she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the one sensation she absolutely despised, punching her deep in her gut as the fall back downwards came shortly after. Landing right into none other than her boyfriend, Might Guy’s strong arms. “Precious!”, she shuddered as he spoke way louder than she would have liked; “After so long you have finally returned from your mission! Wow I’ve missed you'', Guy was basically roaring right in her face at this point, which she normally wouldn’t mind, but the fatigue she couldn’t shake off any longer made her highly irritable. “Guy!, put me down right now, baka!”, she blurted, his big, pretty grin never leaving his face as he gently complied. “My precious flower, how was your mission” he spoke in a much calmer voice, now sensing her irritated mood as he shamelessly inspected her entire body, not bothered by the irritation in her tone, making sure his eyes and hands didn't miss a single spot, hoping she wasn't injured as she replied, “It was a success. I just reported to Lady Hokage and I get a full week of rest as a reward so i'm going home now” , the tone of her voice growing more and more annoyed as she noticed Kakashi and his team all standing there, watching Guy fiddle with her body, the embarrassing display of care leaving a light blush across her plump cheeks. Everyone knew they were dating, despite the fact that their relationship was still very new, it didn't take a scientist to figure out they had been in love with one another even as friends. “Guy!” she whined, pushing him off of her hoping he was now pleased with his inspection. “As expected of my lotus! Always glowing in the light of her youth!”, he continued with his over enthusiastic praise. Tenji was now very used to his overly positive attitude that he was apparently born with, considering he was just as loud now, as he was when they were still children. Kakashi looked at her with a knowing look of second hand embarrassment as he nodded towards her “Yo, we‘re going inside Ichiraku’s now, join us whenever you’re ready Tenji-chan” he spoke in the warm, familiar manner, he always spoke in when talking to her. “Kakashi-san, I’m too tired. Next time?”, she replied, her eyelids noticeably droopy as he nodded in understanding, walking into the restaurant.

Guy stood in front of his new lover, feeling like his heart would explode with the surge of joy he felt to be near her after not getting to hang out much, especially in the past two months. Tenji stood before him and let out a deep sigh, knowing that she wouldn't have to worry about the dreadful walk home because her best friend and now lover would go to the ends to make her happy, as she would for him. Tenji looked up at him, her deep brown eyes never leaving his onyx ones as she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his large build, gripping on the back of his green jumpsuit, sighing heavily into his chest. Her heart fluttered, remembering that she could now hold him like this. He was hers now. Guy’s flak jacket draped her arms as he engulfed her in a warm embrace, strong arms wrapping firmly around her, pulling her impossibly closer. Her eyelids fluttered shut, comfort washing over her as he began to rub his large hand soothingly up and down her back making her eyelids feel like a ton of bricks as she finally gave in to keeping them closed. She relished in the heavy slumber that quickly crept up on her feeling like she was sinking deeper and deeper into her lovers addicting hold, but it was cut short as she was abruptly interrupted by the rumbling of Guy’s hard chest, a deep chuckle leaving his lips as he felt the weight of her body dip further into his. “Someones ready for a nap I see?” he spoke placing a soft kiss on her forehead, “Mmhmm”, was all Tenji had the strength to say, too tired to move her mouth into actual words, revelling in the pleasant warmth Guy’s soft caresses provided—despite the afternoon heat—bringing his fingers to brush the coily strand that escaped the loosely tied bun at the nape of her neck and tucked it back into place. Attempting to tuck the one strand in, the whole bun began to fall apart and Guy being the sweet bean he was,decided to fix the whole thing for her. Speaking to her, he continued to work on it, gently detangling her hair from the scrunchie that failed to keep her thick, dark brown coils neatly bundled up. “How about I take you home and help you wind down?” , he continued, finally able to pry the scrunchie from the last little coil that wouldn't let it go, careful not to hurt her. “Miss you”, she sounded muffled, snuggling further into his chest, a pang of happiness filling her chest at the action, taking in her favourite faint scent of lemon and a much stronger earthy smell. Guy began to softly brush her hair back with his palms, making sure to pull all escaping strands into the ponytail he was forming in his fist at the nape of her neck, now securing it all with the scrunchie. “Well let's get going precious”, he sighed out, gently prying himself free from her tight grip around him, quickly silencing her whine, turning around and gently tugging at her arm, easily pulling all her weight onto his back. A move that she was all too familiar with, Guy always treating her like the ‘precious flower’ he always described her as ever since they were younger. Her heart leaped along with him as he jumped up onto the nearest rooftop, maintaining a firm yet gentle grip on her thighs, a faint sigh leaving her lips and excitement bubbling up from the pit of her tummy, pleasantly spreading around the rest of her body as thoughts of the cuddles and attention she was going to receive clouded her mind. Why didn’t they get together any sooner? Not only did she have a whole entire week off, but she also scored time with her lover. It couldn't get any better than that.

[initiala]

Oh hai.

It's not dead or abandoned! Remember how I started this for @cssns​ 2018???? Just, y'know, life happening, and also several global catastrophes. But it turns out that writer's block is really cured by procrastination, which is why I was able to finally figure out some spots I was stuck on while not packing up my apartment to move.

Please enjoy this overly delayed post-wedding fluff and smut.

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

______________

The holidays weren’t really something she paid attention to, not after her parents died. Her mother had loved any excuse to have a party and Emma had grown up with the nondenominational trappings of Christmas in their house, but the tradition had died with Snow and David when she was sixteen. She normally spent the last week of December pulling extra shifts at work, covering for people who had families and wanted the extra time off, and never had a second thought about it. The Pack had their own holidays, particularly around the solstices, but nothing compared to the warm, colorful parties of her childhood -- and frankly, nothing ever would. 

So when their short honeymoon fell over Christmas Eve and Day, Emma didn’t think anything of it. Killian made no indication that he celebrated it, and when they returned home on Boxing Day it was to a chilly apartment without any of the decorations that dotted the windows up and down their street. She turned up the heat a little while Killian took their bags back to the bedroom to be sorted out, and she double-checked the windows were locked tight while turning on a few lights in the living room.

The colorful twinkle outside meshed with the light snowfall in a way that made her heart twist painfully in her chest, a flash of her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears and a brief memory of her father cornering her mother under the mistletoe. Her thumb went to the band on her finger, a lump forming in her throat, and she remembered why she normally worked herself to the bone this time of year.

Work was a distraction from missing them.

“Emma?”

She whipped the curtains shut to put an extra layer between the cold glass and the warming room, between herself and her memories, and turned to face her husband as he came into the room. “Love, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, but his large hand engulfed her own as it went to discreetly wipe at her eyes. “Darling, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten this but I can smell when you’re sad,” he said, his voice soft as he pulled her into his embrace. “We’ve been home five minutes, you can talk to me.”

Fuck, she hated talking about her feelings and her parents and particularly her feelings about her parents. But she’d promised -- she’d vowed -- that she’d be more open and honest with him, and she was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to get lucky and guess what all of this was about. She hadn’t told him enough about her parents to let him put all of the pieces together. “I just… I miss my parents,” she said softly, and let him hold her as he made a sympathetic noise and murmured soothing things in her ear. “Mom really loved this time of year. She threw the best parties, one year she actually got fairies to make it snow inside and me and the other kids had a snowball fight. She loved the colors and the whole family thing and she really loved the smell of pine trees -- it kind of gave my dad a headache. But we made it work because Dad always said how it put an extra sparkle in Mom’s eye and he loved her enough to put up with it. I normally try to work a lot through this time of year, everyone wants extra time off, but I was kind of hoping this year we could have some new memories to make this time of year less sad. And it helped, it really did, but then I just saw the lights outside and the snow and it just… it hit me a little harder because I’ve been trying so hard not to think about them. So I miss my parents and I’m sorry this time of year is going to suck no matter what and--”

Killian shushed her softly and she realized she was crying as he thumbed the tears from her cheeks. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “If I’d known… well, I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t blindfold you everywhere -- well, I could, but not in the fun way --” He grinned as she swatted him on the chest. “So testy, my love. You don’t have to be sorry about missing your parents. You just need to let me know, so I can comfort you or let you sit and mourn them in peace, or drive you to distraction. And if I need to do so more this time of year, well, let it be my burden to bear. You don’t have to bear this alone, Emma, you can always rely on me.”

And didn’t that just make her get teary all over again? “How the hell do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked, burying her face in his chest.

“Because I’m magic,” he rumbled under her and she pinched his side. “And we’re too alike, you know. Now, what do you need?”

She sniffled and took a breath, taking mental stock. They really needed to unpack and get everything sorted out for laundry, but while that would keep her hands busy her mind would wander and she really didn’t want to keep thinking about the past. But she knew that leaving everything until tomorrow or the next day would bother Killian; she didn’t want to be alone right now, either. “Can we bring the bags back out here and watch TV while we unpack? I know you just put them away but--”

He was already nodding, though, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you need, love.”

Since he’d been the one to put them away and she was being the emotional asshole, she figured it was only fair that she bring the bags back out. She had no idea how he’d done it all in one trip, not with how narrow the hall was and how much she disliked scuffing her baseboards with the wheels, and surreptitiously eyed them as she made multiple trips back and forth.

No scuffs. “I’m magic,” she mumbled in a sarcastic imitation of her husband’s accent, shaking her head.

Killian had the TV on to the classic movie channel and the unmistakable scent of chocolate lingered in the air. “Dash of cream liqueur, whipped cream, and cinnamon,” he said, handing her a mug as she sat down.

Emma smiled into it, letting the warmth of the drink and the liqueur slide into her belly. “Did I ever tell you Mom’s the reason I like this?”

“Mm, no.”

She watched as he deftly unzipped the largest bag and started sorting through it; she’d done little more than toss everything in without caring about wrinkles, and the whole thing reeked of sex and wine -- they’d had not nearly enough of both over the last few days, but apparently enough to let the scent sink in to all the fabric. A different kind of warmth settled under her skin, but she wasn’t in the mood to act on it just yet. “According to my dad, Mom drank this all the time when she was pregnant with me. Her biggest craving; not that she didn’t like it before, but it was like another level. So then it became our thing, once I was old enough to have some, just sitting together on the couch or in the kitchen or wherever, with our matching cocoa with cinnamon.”

Killian glanced over at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and her heart swelled suddenly with reaffirmation of how much she loved him. His bangs fell over his forehead in a way some might call rakish, but when he looked at her like that -- lips quirked up in amusement at his own joke he was about to tell, unable to hide his glee at his own cleverness -- she could only call it boyish. “Sweet tooth before you were even born, eh Swan?”

Maybe not a joke then, but teasing, like they were twelve and he was pulling her tail. “I’m a wolf of taste,” she said loftily, setting her mug aside and pulling up another suitcase to go through. “Unlike some mangy curs around here.”

“Mangy cur?” Emma squeaked as she found herself pinned under him on the floor, his nose brushing against hers and heat flooding her body. His grin promised absolute filth, the hard length of his body pressed against hers deliciously, and the scent of his arousal was enough to make her dizzy. “Didn’t realize we were comparing pedigrees here, princess. Too bad you’re stuck with the mangy cur and not some stuffy purebred.”

“I happen to like the mangy cur,” she whispered, their lips close enough to tease.

“Good,” he growled. “Because he likes you too.”

She moaned into his kiss, which was far gentler than she was expecting, and he let up on her arms enough to allow her the space to embrace him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, then down his back, where she teased the patch of skin revealed by his sweater riding up. “Emma.”

He pulled back and she smiled at how he already looked wrecked. She glanced over his face, refamiliarizing herself with the little details she already had memorized but still loved looking at: the old scar on his cheek, the ginger hairs in his beard, the little freckles and the way his eyebrow seemed to jump up on its own when he got curious about something. He caught her eye with his again and one corner of his mouth ticked up, a sudden shyness in the way his eyes darted around, like he wasn’t sure she was staring at him . “What?”

She shook her head, reaching down and slipping her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, earning a surprised -- and pleased -- noise from him as she pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I just… really love you,” she said when they parted.

His cheeks reddened, but just around his cheekbones, and she loved that she knew that detail about him. If she was further back, she’d be able to see his ears turning the same color, and if she really got to him she’d be able to get his nose to match. She liked the way he could get around her, quiet and unabashedly himself, someone who couldn’t take a compliment seriously and waved off words of praise. It drove her a little crazy, but she’d made her vows to voice her feelings to him and she was going to make good on those vows.

“I love you too,” he said, his nose brushing against hers, and he leaned in to kiss her again.

The laundry could wait.

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

“ There she is!” Ruby hollered, ignoring the glares from the other bar patrons.

Emma also ignored the knowing looks on both Ruby and Dorothy’s faces as she shrugged out of her coat. She knew her hair was mussed and she had beard burn on the side of her neck -- Killian had a particular fondness for this dress and the lack of coverage it provided -- and she was definitely late for their night out, but she only felt the slightest hint of guilt over that. Besides, both Ruby and Dorothy knew what it was like to be newly mated, so they could cut her a break. “Hey, thanks for saving me a seat.”

She flagged down a waitress to take her drink order and then grabbed a handful of peanuts. “So… how’s it going?” Ruby asked in a sing-song.

“Babe.” Dorothy elbowed her.

“What? She’s got sex hair and she reeks of it. If that’s her excuse, she’d better dish.”

Emma rolled her eyes, cracking open a shell. “We didn’t have sex, thank you, he just… made it hard to leave.”

“Oh I’ll bet something was hard.”

“Ruby.”

The waitress arrived with Emma’s drink and they ordered one of those mixed appetizers platters to share, as well as another round of drinks. Emma gulped half of her drink after the waitress left again before saying, “I won’t kiss and tell.”

As Ruby made a face, Dorothy reached for her own peanuts. “Some of us appreciate that.”

Emma downed the rest of her gin and tonic; she hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate it, and seeing as how this was a wolf bar the drinks were made to match their metabolisms, but this was the first time she was getting to hang out with her friends since her wedding and she wanted to have fun. Tipsy, ridiculous fun, with no husbands and no responsibilities. Girl time. Catch-up time.

Only, she realized as the conversation started to actually move towards catching up on each other’s lives, she just had stories about Killian.

“Okay, I forbid you to talk about your husband for thirty seconds,” Ruby said, pointing a french fry at her for emphasis. The appetizers had been replaced by entrees, and Emma rolled her eyes as she took an enormous bite of her burger. Fine, she’d just chew instead. “You have to have been doing something other than banging each other silly or going to work.”

Emma took her time with her food, drawing out Ruby’s challenge and taking some small joy in the agitated tick in her friend’s eyebrow. “Well it’s not like you don’t know what I do for work,” she said finally, reaching for the ketchup. “And we’re in a post-holiday lull, so it’s gonna be a bit before things get interesting.”

“One of us has got to get a different job,” Ruby declared, while her mate rolled her eyes indulgently.

Emma didn’t bother to respond, instead flagging down the waitress for another G & T. There was definitely a happy buzz going on under her skin and she wanted it to continue; the burger would only dull the effects before too long.

“Bitch on the prowl, ten o’clock,” Dorothy said suddenly, looking towards the door.

Emma and Ruby turned to look, with what felt like most of the bar’s patrons and staff following their lead. A woman she didn’t recognize was taking off her coat, revealing a dress that would send normal humans rushing to her side in an instant; here, it only added to the allure of her scent. She was obviously in heat, unattached, and looking to rectify the situation.

Already two men were walking towards her, jostling one another to make her acquaintance first; Emma just looked back to her tablemates with a look of resignation. “They’re not wasting any time,” she said.

“Neither is she; she must be the first one of the season,” Dorothy said, watching the situation near the door with mild interest.

“Just glad it isn’t me this time.”

“If there wasn’t any concern about like, us not being turned into a science freak show, I would absolutely watch our version of a trash dating show.”

“Babe, we have too many seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list as it is,” Ruby said.

“Correction, we don’t have enough seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list.”

Emma glanced back at the display happening on the other side of the bar, letting the sound of her friends teasing each other blend into the rest of the noise. This woman was definitely taking no prisoners, making eye contact with one of the men while her hand rested almost possessively on the arm of the other, her lips spread into a wide smile. Hell, she was charmed by this kind of display, especially when the woman demurely glanced at the second man under her lashes for a moment. Maybe Dorothy was right about a dating show… She watched as the woman laughed at something one of the men said, throwing her head back to give everyone a good look -- and smell -- at her neck, and Emma found herself dazedly wondering when she might be able to slip away back home and ravish her husband.

“Oh no, we’ve lost her.”

“Pheromones side effect, tragic really.”

She blinked back to attention. “What?”

Ruby looked annoyed, but Dorothy at least seemed sympathetic. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase, babe, it’s gonna be a while before everything settles down. The coming season doesn’t help.”

“Okay, you can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Emma snapped. Her drink had been refreshed without her notice and she downed it. “I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up about Killian and whatever.”

Ruby started to respond, but Dorothy silenced her with a look. Whatever silent argument they had, Ruby lost and she huffed as she went back to her meal. The reaction stung -- it’s not like Emma hadn’t sat through hours of Ruby pining and then gushing over her own mate, she could stand being the recipient for a while -- but Emma felt it wasn’t worth it to argue and ruin the evening by just turning it into a fight.

Eventually, they started talking again, Ruby breaking first with some pack gossip. The night never got to the raucous levels any of them might have hoped it could get to, but was overall a nice time and Emma even forgot about getting her feelings hurt. It felt good to get out of the house for a while with friends -- but when someone wolf-whistled as the woman in heat from earlier waltzed out with an entirely different man clutched possessively at her side, Emma thought it might be even better to get back home to her mate.

Even short periods of absence seemed to make the heart grow fonder.

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

As the new year rolled through to its second month, Emma and Killian quietly celebrated the one-year anniversary of their meeting, marveling at how much had changed in just a year. Killian noticed that Emma seemed to greet each day with increasing wariness, and his own awareness of the mating season coming into bloom turned into some kind of insatiable itch under his skin.

He’d never participated in mating season before meeting Emma. He’d been soured from pursuing any sort of relationship after the disastrous affair with Milah, and even when he’d been half underwater with alcohol he’d decided he’d never again get snared by any she-wolf’s trap. And to his embittered mind, mating season was just another trap, luring men into siring pups or trying to turn a one-night tryst into a long-term commitment. Even after he’d sobered up and straightened himself out, he’d still felt the sting of rejection in his phantom limb and did his best to stay occupied and aloof in spring.

Until Emma.

He’d known from the start that she was different, that chance encounter with her packmates. She had fire, and the way she’d immediately come at him on the offense had piqued his interest immediately. Then the wind had shifted and he’d immediately known what the source of the problem with her packmates had been, the full-blown scent of a bitch in heat burrowing down to awaken his most basic instincts. He’d done his best to remain a gentleman and let her walk away, as she’d clearly had no interest in acting on her own hormones, and once her scent faded on the wind he’d walked away as fast as he could without rousing anyone’s suspicion. He’d thought that was the end of it, until a chance meeting at a bar led to a delightful night of conversation and drinks…

And the most wonderful, passionate woman he’d ever had the pleasure to offer himself up to the next day.

Poor love had been so miserable when he’d come to see if his magical hangover remedy worked for her that he’d hardly reacted to the overwhelming bouquet of Emma in heat. He’d acted immediately to try and rectify the errors in her spice cabinet, mixing his potion and letting her recover. And as he tidied up the mess he’d made, it became increasingly hard (in many senses of the phrase) to ignore the fact that he was absolutely surrounded by pheromones and the obvious lingering scent of everything she’d done to relieve herself of the ache over the last several days. And when she’d emerged from her blanket nest again and stood there with only a shirt and her knickers and legs that went on for miles and giving him every last chance to run before they’d do something they’d regret?

He’d never wanted someone more in his entire life, mating season or not.

It wasn’t long after he returned home, he realized that long weekend in her bed (and her shower and her kitchen… and one particularly enjoyable occasion with her back pressed to the window and the lights in the living room turned off to keep the outside world in the dark to their activities) would never be enough for him. Liam accused him of moping, his friends thought he needed to get out and meet someone new to get Emma out of his system.

Looking up now, watching her enter the room shyly and holding out a simple padded envelope, he knew just as well now as he’d known then: he could never get her out of his system, even if he tried.

“What’s this, love?” he asked, accepting the envelope from her as she settled in the crook of his arm.

“Early valentine’s present,” she said simply.

They had a reservation at a restaurant that day, so he was a little confused as to why she didn’t want to simply wait until then. “Any particular reason why this is an early gift?”

Her scent changed, a little surge of arousal, and amusement laced her voice, “I kind of figured it was safer to give these to you in private.”

Well now he was intrigued. “Very well then, thank you and I accept.”

Reaching into the envelope, he felt photos -- a stack of actual printed, glossy photographs. He glanced down at his wife -- fuck, he’d never be over that, his wife -- and watched her chew her bottom lip nervously as he pulled the photos out. 

Each photo featured Emma in some way, posed and primping and perfect in all her glory. These weren’t amateur photos by any means, and even her hair and make-up looked like someone else had done the job -- not that Emma did poorly at her own appearance, but she wasn’t one to add such accentuation to her eyes to give them that smoky effect. Killian swallowed hard as he went through each photo, his heart thumping especially loud in his ears: Emma looking directly at the camera in some sort of modernized glamour shot; Emma from behind, shot from the waist up, looking coyly over her shoulder as she slipped a shirt -- was that one of his? -- down her arms to expose her back beneath a wave of blond curls; Emma laid out on dark satin, her hair spilled around her like a halo, wearing what was definitely one of his button-downs and nothing else from the way she gripped it closed. “Emma, how did you--” his throat felt nearly as tight as his pants as he paused at the next photo, her eyes downcast as she lay on her stomach, the curve of her breast visible in the opening of his shirt.

“I am people who know people,” she said simply.

On and on it went, all of them sensual or titillating without pushing the envelope enough to qualify as lewd, until the last one: she reclined on her side, propped up on her elbow, on a pelt that matched her own. Completely bare, her back faced the camera, her hair spilling down her shoulders as she looked to the side, not quite looking over her shoulder but enough to give the viewer a look at her demure profile in an otherwise completely shameless photograph.

“Jesus Christ, Emma…”

She rested her head against his shoulder, by all appearances merely a content wife who was pleased her husband liked her gift, rather than the mischievous seductress she truly was. Minx. “You like them?” she asked.

“Very much. And may I add, excellent call on a private viewing,” he murmured, nosing her hair. “Had anyone else even glimpsed these, I would have had to rip their throats out with my teeth.”

She hummed and he grinned as her scent flared. “The whole murderous, possessive alpha male thing shouldn’t be such a turn on,” she commented, and squeaked as he hauled her up in his lap.

Placing the photos on her lap, he tapped the last one with one finger. “This one should be blown up and professionally framed, I might hang it up in my office. Your arse is a work of art, love.”

“It is,” Emma agreed, “but wouldn’t that go against the whole ‘if anyone else saw these I’d kill them in cold blood’ thing?”

He tweaked her nose; she really was a terrible mimic of his accent. She always made him sound like a Mancunian somehow. “I didn’t say it had to be the main office, and while I admit that intimidating any potential contractors to a better profit turnover would be better, I can’t say I’d be able to get much work done with such a distraction.”

“And it being in your home office would do any better?”

“Well,” Killian said, drawling on the l’s, “for one thing, I wouldn’t have to travel far to take care of any, ah, problems that might arise from a viewing.” Emma snorted, no doubt feeling exactly the sort of problem he spoke of pressed against her bottom. “Though why would I need to look at this if I have the real thing waiting for me?”

“Who says I’ll be laying in wait for you?” she asked, poking his chest. “If our history says anything, I’m the one who pounces on you the moment you walk through the door.”

“Or sooner.”

“Or sooner,” she said. Looping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head. “You really like them?”

He opened his mouth, prepared to remind her that he’d already answered that, but then he noticed the slight furrow of her brow, the nearly invisible downturn of her lips, her wide eyes flicking between his as she tried to read his expression. Killian softened, in several ways, remembering how difficult she found it to be vulnerable; he suspected the act of posing and taking the photographs had been easy -- Emma was a beautiful, confident woman and she knew it -- but now came the hard part: seeking approval. “I love them,” he told her seriously, tightening his hold around her. “A pale substitute for the real thing, but this on my desk,” he flitted through the photos to the glamor shot, “will remind me of the gorgeous woman I have waiting for me at home. And get me through the long , hard days when we don’t see one another.”

She gave him an overly patient look at where he’d emphasized his speech. He leaned down and kissed away the wrinkle between her brows, breathing her in. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone such as you, my darling, but I’m grateful every day to whatever thread of fate drew us together.”

Her breath hitched and her arms tightened around him. She shifted, tilting her head up to kiss him; the intensity of it nearly overwhelmed him, telling him without words how much she loved him and appreciated what he’d said. He felt her fingers in his hair, grazing the sides of his face and neck, her lips moving against his with a hunger he recognized well. “Let’s move these,” he rasped, doing his best not to just throw the pictures all over the floor, “before we make a mess of them.”

Killian gladly let Emma take control then, pushing him flat on his back on the couch and straddling him. “Show me what you really think,” she said, and whipped her sweater over her head, the offending garment falling almost protectively over the stack of photographs on the floor.

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

The dream started the way it always did: she was sixteen again and her body wasn’t cooperating as she tried to climb the height to the challenge grounds. Most of this was pulled from memory, the sounds of her mother and Regina fighting, the bitter cold, the tang of blood on the wind, but while the stones under her were covered in ice and snow, she’d been able to climb with only a little trouble. She’d been more worried about what she’d find than making sure her feet were going in the right place.

In the dream, though, it was like moving through molasses. Images came in flashes -- her mother lunging and scoring a blow on Regina’s side, Regina’s snarl and the moonlight glinting off the ceremonial silver knives, her father bleeding to death on the ground. Her voice stuck in her throat as she tried to scream for help, like her mouth was sewn shut.

She was helpless to stop what was happening; she always had been, and even in a dream she couldn’t change the reality that her parents had been murdered in front of her.

But for the first time she was able to get to the top, only to find Regina fighting Killian instead of Snow. He had no knife, no weapon at all, swinging wildly with his fist and kicking where he could, but Regina seemed to have the upper hand as she dodged his every move. It looked like she was completely fine with letting him tire himself out first before she had to do anything; Emma tried to scream, tried to get them to stop -- why would Killian be fighting Regina? -- but her mouth wouldn’t work.

Killian lunged and Regina dodged with ease, moving on the offense for the first time as she slammed her elbow into his back. He fell with a cry and suddenly a rifle was in her hands. A crack sounded in the frozen night and then Killian lay still on the ground.

Her body moved, freed from whatever had trapped her in place. Regina was gone, and Emma flung herself at her mate’s form. He lay sprawled on his stomach, a dark, wet patch spreading across his back in the same place where he’d been shot last fall. She packed snow against the wound, an animal cry ripping from her throat in a desperate plea for help. She turned him over, trying to see if he was conscious, but he was white as death and as cold as if he’d lain there for hours instead of moments --

Emma woke, a scream stuck in her mouth as she fought to get the blankets that were tangled around her and constricting her movements off. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tumbled to the floor; the solid impact shook off the confusion between dreams and reality, but it couldn’t get the image of Killian bleeding out in the snow out of her mind. She curled in on herself as her mind blended it with the same sight of her parents that she’d relived over and over again for more than a decade, her chest aching as she tried to stifle her sobs.

It was late, but she hadn’t gone to bed as Killian had still been at work. She’d dozed off on the couch, something she hadn’t done in a long time—in the last few months, the combination of Alice’s crystal magic and the ever-present scent and feel of their mating bond in the bedroom had helped ease both of their night terrors. Their den represented safety and security, giving them peace of mind to rest easily.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Emma took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She reached for where she’d left her phone, using the hem of her shirt to scrub her face dry with her other hand, and checked to see if there were any messages. A few warm tears leaked out still, even as she checked the time and noted that Killian had texted not long ago to let her know he was on his way home.

As if on cue, the sound of keys in the hall reached her ears, and a moment later they scratched at the lock and then the door opened. “Sorry I’m so late, darling, I—what happened?”

He was at her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms. She lay her head against his shoulder gratefully. “Bad dreams, it’s nothing.”

“Sweetling, the fear-scent hit me full in the face when I came in, it’s not nothing.”

His heartbeat under her ear soothed her, some of the lingering tension in her shoulders easing with the steady thrumming. Her arms went around him and his hold tightened, just a little, as if he could protect her from her own demons just by holding on tight.

She wished he could.

“Bad dreams,” she said again, clearing her throat after her voice came out thick. “A lot of the same, mixed up together in a shitty new brain cocktail I didn’t order.”

He knew about the recurring dream with her parents, and the newer ones from the incident in the fall, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to put together what she meant. He kissed the side of her head. “I’m sorry, darling. Why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I was waiting for you to get home and just nodded off.” Her book, forgotten until now, lay face-down on the floor, pages bunched up and wrinkled now from when it had fallen from her lap in sleep. “If I’d known you were staying that late I would have just gone to bed.”

Killian sighed. “I’m sorry. I was working on a contract and needed feedback from the overseas partner; it’s morning in Singapore so I knew I could get prompt replies. I should have said something earlier.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I still feel terrible.” He kissed her again and stood, bringing her up with him. “Come on, let’s have a nightcap and you can tell me how to make it better.”

She smiled wanly. “I just need you. That’s all I need to make it better.”

Emma allowed him to lead her to the kitchen. “You have me, Swan, you know that. You’ll always have me.”

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

She woke slowly to the gentle, teasing press of lips against her own. There was a murmur in the back of her mind that sounded like ‘ wake up, darling ’ and she had the bewildering sensation of being in two places at once before a finger brushed against her neck and arousal surged through her body. Instantly she felt more alert, kissing Killian back with newly awakened vigor, and he groaned as she pushed him back, reversing their positions so she lay atop him. “Cheater,” she accused, only allowing them a moment to breathe before coming together again. 

He stroked her mate-mark once more and the swell of arousal almost hurt; she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the ache that lay between them, but Killian’s hand moved down, coaxing them apart to tease his fingers between her folds. “So wet for me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she said, biting her lip at the feel of his fingers on her flesh, the warmth pulsing through her body, the sparks of pleasure with every stroke. He ducked down, pressing his lips against her neck and she whimpered at the touch, feeling like she was melting into putty in his arms. “ Tease .”

“I’m a cheater, a tease,” he murmured against her skin, punctuating each word with another kiss. “What’s next? Scoundrel ?”

She cried out as his fingers thrust home, filling her with that delicious stretch she craved. She could feel him moving his fingers inside, teasing her further, and she didn’t know how she wasn’t just soaking his hand with how turned on she was right then. With each thrust of his fingers, he seemed to lift her up and it took her far too long to realize it was a combination of his own urging and her unconscious compliance as she rose up above him. She threw one leg over his waist and felt the head of his cock bump against her thigh; Killian withdrew his fingers and she looked down to watch him rub her juices off his fingers onto his cock as he took it in hand, quickly positioning himself in place for her to sink down on top of him. "Oh fuck me," he moaned as she began to move, her lips finding his mate-mark.

His fingers dug into her hip as she rode him, skin slapping as she chased her pleasure. The combination of their teasing each other’s mate-marks was driving her nearly insane with lust -- she barely noticed when she peaked, the need for more clawing its way through her veins. Killian protested when she lifted herself off him, but he seemed to pick up on the general plan when she turned and got on her hands and knees.

She gasped, sharp and shallow as he pushed in again, her hand grabbing a fistful of blanket for purchase. He felt so much bigger this way— always had since the way he’d taken her that first time. "If we're going to do this like animals, might as well look the part,” he’d said then, and she certainly felt like an animal now as she pushed back onto him in earnest, back arching and throat rough as she keened, pleading for more.

“Greedy girl,” Killian panted through grit teeth, his hips slamming against hers as she cried out. “Drenching my cock, begging for it.”

“ You woke me up,” she retorted, gasping again as he hit a good spot. “There--do that again, fuck .” His hand found her hip again, nails stinging into her skin just enough to pull a groan out of her. Again, he snapped his hips forward, but it’s less frenzied than before, sharper, calculated, and the breath that punched out of her lungs at the next thrust felt laced with fire. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, felt her heart stutter at the way his mark stood out dark against the morning light.

She slipped against the sheet, nearly buckling, but his hand was there before she could, sliding up the length of her torso to curl his fingers around her shoulder. Too-fast, she found herself surrounded by him, his weight half-draped on top of her as he pulled her flush against him and oh, oh . Fuck tumbled out of her again as she twisted to claim a rough kiss. Distracted, his hips slowed at the contact, but she pushed back again with a roll of her hips.

The hand on her shoulder urged her down, his weight shifting off her back as he reared back and her head pressed against the mattress. The angle was just right, a keen tearing from her throat as he resumed speed, driving into her hard and fast and -- “ Fuck, Killian! ”

His hand slipped under her, between her legs, found their way to her overstimulated clit and teased, drawing circles around it and pressing--

Killian’s phone started to vibrate on the nightstand. Emma felt her orgasm slip beyond reach for the moment, her concentration broken, and she groaned in frustration. She didn’t even know what time it was, but it had to be too early for anything but an emergency. “Killian, you should see who that was,” she mumbled, her head shifting against the mattress as he pounded into her.

Her husband snarled and that sent a little thrill down her spine, reigniting what had been lost. “Whoever it is should fucking know better than to call when I’m balls deep in my wife.”

She had no idea how to articulate how absurd that was, but he moved his hand again and squeezed her breast, leaving wet streaks of her own arousal along her skin and her core clenched around him in anticipation. He exhaled sharply, another little growl escaping him, and she pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. She felt his fingers move along her skin, dancing up her back and nails scratching just enough to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, until they found her mate-mark once more and started tracing around it, lightly circling, pressing just enough--

She saw stars. Burst of color behind squeezed eyelids and an impossible wave of pleasure crashing through her, her legs feeling numb and buckling under her as he rode her through her orgasm until she heard a grunt signaling his own. She slid weakly down onto her stomach, her skin still tingling and her core still shuddering, dragging air into her lungs as fast as she could to try and calm her racing heart. She felt the bed shift behind her, heard Killian’s heavy breathing, then felt him settle between her legs. Before she could fully understand what was happening, she felt his nose brush the sensitive seam of her ass, and then dip lower as his tongue found her dripping, abused, and still fucking aroused cunt. “ Jesus --”

Emma tried to push herself up on her elbows, tried to army-crawl up the bed and away from her insatiable husband’s questing tongue, but he satisfied himself with only a few laps before pulling away. She twisted, flushed and glaring at the smug grin on his face. “Who’s greedy now?” she asked.

“I do love the taste of us together,” he admitted, righting himself and settling back on the pillows.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and summoned all of her strength to get up and go clean herself. Wobbly as it was, she managed the trip to the bathroom and even brought him a washcloth to clean himself up before giving her weary legs a rest and laying next to him. The heady feeling of arousal still burned inside, though more like a smoldering ember pile than the full-on inferno he’d worked her into before, but she pushed it away; she wasn’t in heat yet and her body had limits.

For now.

“So what was that for?” Emma asked.

“Do I need a reason to wake my wife and lavish her with my attentions?” She poked him in the ribs, a particularly ticklish spot, and he squirmed. “Cut it out,” Killian said, giggling. “Your smell woke me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My smell?” she asked, her voice flat. “You know, from anyone else those might be fighting words.”

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “And far be it from me to challenge you, darling. No, I believe it may be close to time, your scent has… shifted somewhat.”

Emma let her head fall back with a groan. Motherfucker. Well, it was to be expected; it’s the normal time for her to go into heat, it was just… the worst. Though, having a mate would make it exponentially easier than previous years; she had that to look forward to, at least. She just hated being completely ruled by her hormones, hated having so little control over her own body. And of course Killian would be the first to pick up on it, of course he’d know her so well that he’d pick up on even the slightest change in her scent. Idly, she wondered if he could tell because he’d smelled her in full-blown heat before, but in truth she believed he’d know any changes in her body and her scent almost before she did.

Puts the kibosh on any cutesy surprise things whenever we get around to having pups , she thought wryly.

“Judging by your enthusiastic response, you’re still unhappy about the prospect,” Killian remarked.

She sighed. “It’s not that. I love nothing more than using you as my personal sex toy, I just… hate everything else about it.”

“We could try a last-minute honeymoon,” he suggested. “We did talk about going somewhere this spring.”

“It’ll be wicked expensive, not to mention both of our bosses would kill us for leaving so last minute. And don’t even try to tell me Liam would be understanding, he’d find something to harp at you about.”

“Technically I’m my own boss.”

“Yes, but what captain leaves the helm to go fuck his wife silly for a week?”

His teeth flash in a grin that sends a shiver down her spine. “I’m sure plenty do, particularly when the captain’s wife is as beautiful and alluring as you. And I do have minions to keep things running, you know I don’t do everything right?”

“You have to stop calling your officers ‘minions’.”

“I pay their salaries, I can call them what I like. Besides, which is less of a mouthful, Chief Operating Officer or minion?”

“Coming from the man who takes an hour to tell a five minute story.”

His grin widened. “One of the many charms you love about me.” She rolled her eyes and the bed shifted as Killian reached for his phone, which pinged a reminder that he had a missed call and a voicemail. “Though I could have reason for it, seeing as how one of them called at a most inopportune time.”

Emma worried her lip between her teeth as he listened to the message, the tinny voice reaching her ears perfectly as questions even she knew could have waited a few hours were relayed. If he was right, and it was reasonable to assume he was, then it would be easier to just combine the honeymoon and her week in heat. It was extremely annoying that there wasn’t any way to really tell when her body would go into heat, outside of paying attention to signs like any subtle changes in scent, and they couldn’t have planned this ages in advance. The thought of paying all the last minute booking fees made her skin crawl, but she also knew he wouldn’t suggest such a thing if it wasn’t feasible.

Marrying up a couple of tax brackets was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Killian tossed his phone back on the bedside table, muttering darkly to himself, and she settled against him again. “How about this,” she started, “we take today to make sure a quick getaway isn’t going to be a problem, and then go in a couple of weeks? I don’t think it’s going to happen in the next few days and we need some time to get our shit together.”

“Eloquent as always, Swan,” he said. “And the full moon is next week, so we should schedule around that as well.”

Remembering that gave her another sense of relief: for some reason, it wasn’t common for their kind to go into heat the week of the full moon. Some did, but it was extremely rare, and always led to complications with the litter. She thought it might have something to do with how her monthly shifting stopped when she’d been pregnant before, nature realizing that changing forms while pregnant wasn’t good for the mother or the fetus, but it wasn’t like there was anyone she could ask about that. Again, something else that the more scientific-minded of their community were studying, but it was difficult.

And it wasn’t like there was The Scientific Werewolf Monthly to publish any of that research.

Maybe there should be.

“Well, that settles that,” she said, her mood buoyed by the lunar calendar. “We’ll go in a couple of weeks. Plunk me on a beach somewhere that’s not Boston in winter and I’ll be set.”

Killian’s expression was a thrilling mix of joy and sin. “Then I’d better make sure it’s a private beach, because I have no plans of letting you wear anything more than a bikini the whole time we’re gone,” he said, shifting to loom over her as he spoke, the last words breathed against her lips before he caught hers up in another kiss.

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

The wave of pleasure that had been building inside finally crashed over her, sending ripples up to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. She sighed, sated for the time being and pushed away the latest of her spent toys, reclining back on the silk maroon sheets to watch as he took his leave from her bed. They all knew the drill, the men lurking in wait for her summons; she hated for them to linger, but she did indulge in the view as they stumbled away from her room.

For now, though, Regina was tired. That was the third one today, and it was barely noon on the first morning of her heat. She rolled her head on her neck, as much as she was able, joints cracking and muscles stretching. She wasn’t a young pup anymore, as difficult as it was to admit some days, so while being ravished three times by three different, handsome young things in one morning certainly sounded like an ideal way to spend one’s time, it was proving to take a toll on her.

She didn’t like to think too much about what that would mean.

She didn’t care for the reminders, the lines at the corners of her eyes getting a little deeper if she looked too long, the silver strands she kept carefully colored, and now her body tiring a little sooner than it had the year before.

Any slip might give rise to rumors, and rumors often lead to those same men lurking downstairs foolish ideas about power.

No, for now she would rest a bit, take lunch, and assess what else she could do to keep her hand on their leashes until just the right moment.

Her phone rang midway through lunch. Annoyed, Regina answered in her usual, clipped way. “This had better be important.”

- She’s leaving town for a week, her and that British wolf of hers. My sources say it’s probably their honeymoon, but we have to remember the season. If she comes back pupped-- -

“I can make my own conclusions, thank you Sidney,” she snapped, her mood darkening. “Keep tabs on them if you can, and the Nolans. We may have to move faster than anticipated.”

She hung up before he could agree to anything -- it didn’t matter, he didn’t have to agree. He just had to follow orders.

She sat still for a moment, staring at her plate, then moved suddenly, throwing her tablet against the wall. The news that Emma Swan, previous heir apparent to the pack she now ruled, had taken another mate after all the work she’d done to destroy that last relationship had sent her into a rage that kept her people on their toes for weeks. She didn’t need any reason to allow support of any kind for that little bitch to rise, and a newly mated pair with a fresh litter on the way would definitely give reason for people to remember and feel sympathy for the girl. To start rumors or petitions to restore her place.

To revolt.

She’d put in too much work expanding, improving, and keeping her pack in line to let the memory of the old alphas resurface.

Snarling, Regina got to her feet. Rage mixed with arousal, the need to take control of something overpowering anything else, and she pressed the intercom that would summon another one of her playthings to the bedroom.

She hoped he had stamina, though she didn’t quite care if she ended up breaking him in the end. He was easily replaced, just as all the others were.

She was in control here. Not them. Not any of the hotheads she dealt with on a regular basis.

And never, never Emma Swan.

[rivers-rambles21]

The one where Bucky has a cute neighbour

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

I’ve not posted on Tumblr before but thought I’d give it a go after finding SO many Bucky fics on here. I’ve also posted my fic on ao3 - please don’t steal my work! (known as impulse53669)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, cockwarming

Will include elements of TFATWS

Notes | I'm not entirely sure how many chapters this will be. I've written 7 in total so far and I'm only just scratching the surface. I've tried to use American grammar where I can but please accept my apologies for any errors. It's been a while since I've written a fic and the very first time I've written it for Y/N.

Chapter 1: The one where Bucky is a hero

 Your eyes scanned the empty lobby, looking for a way out of the conversation you found yourself in. It had started off harmless enough, the man opposite had stopped you before you reached the elevator up to your apartment, complimenting you on your appearance - to be fair your hair did look great after a visit to the salon. But it was the way the man continued to persist in speaking with you that got you on edge. Including his interest in finding out which apartment was yours.

 “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be on her own, let me walk you to your door”      what the fuck    you thought.      Seriously?  

 Just as you opened your mouth to reply with a not so polite response, the lobby door swung open, revealing a familiar face and inspiration hit.”Babe!!” Pushing Mr Misogynist aside you walked over towards your neighbour, your eyes pleading with him to play along as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “I am so sorry” You whispered to him as you felt his body stay rigged, routed to the spot. A split second later you felt his right arm reach around your back, hugging you to his firm body.

 “I thought we could have meatballs for dinner” You pulled back from the hug, eyeing the man before you nervously, praying he understood.

 His blue eyes pierced yours as he furrowed his brows in confusion before they flickered over to the man still waiting by the elevator. “Sounds great doll”  He looked down at you and held his right arm out, offering it to you. Gladly you looped your arm through his, noticing the obvious muscle mass beneath his leather jacket.

 He steered you over towards the elevator, stopping in front of the man from earlier. “Excuse me”

 Grudgingly, the man stepped aside, clearly annoyed at the situation.

 The deafening silence was too much for you to take - “Bye!” you gave the man an awkward wave, trying to prompt him to leave the building. Your neighbour stared dead ahead at the closed elevator doors, his eyes wide.

 “Uh, bye I guess.” Finally, the man walked towards the exit, not bothering to look back as he left the lobby. As soon as you heard the door close, you breathed a sigh of relief and removed your arm from your saviour.

 “Thank you for that, he didn’t seem to get the message”

 “Don’t mention it.” Your neighbour looked over to you and gave a small hint of a smile before returning to his usual brooding look.

 You’d seen him around occasionally, often with Yori who lived a couple of doors down but hadn’t yet found an opportunity to speak with him.

 A quiet ding signaled the elevator had finally arrived and you both stepped in as the doors opened up.

 “I’m Bucky” He said as he pressed the button, taking you to your floor.

 “Y/n”

 You looked over to Bucky, noticing another small smile on his face. “Y/n” He repeated, testing your name on his lips.

 “Yeah that’s what I said” You looked over at him slightly confused, it wasn’t an overly uncommon name afterall. He looked slightly taken aback and you cursed your ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, your mouth had gotten you into trouble on more than one occasion.

 The elevator doors dinged again and he gestured for you to leave first as the doors slid open. Routing around in your bag you looked for your keys, muttering to yourself as you struggled amongst the clutter.

 Finally your hand grasped the cold metal and you pulled your keys free from your bag, turning towards your door.

 “Thanks again Bucky, I wasn’t keen on that creep knowing where I lived.” You leant against your door as you watched him slide his own keys. Despite living opposite each other, you’d rarely seen one another, only occasionally exchanging the odd nod.

 Before opening his door he turned around to face you, mirroring your pose by leaning against the door, his hip dipping slightly, arms crossed over his chest.

 “If you need another fake boyfriend, you know where I live… Y/N'' You smiled back at him, glad to have finally had an opportunity to speak to your neighbour.

 “I’ll bear that in mind      Bucky”    You replied, emphasising his name as he had with yours.

________________________________________________

Let me know your thoughts!

This is just a stupid fic I came up when I was craving a slow burn and some fluff :) Don’t take it too seriously

[mrsalwayswrite]

These Hands Were Made For You (Bill Guarnere x Reader)

Based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic​ because its amazing!

This is my first time writing Wild Bill. Lemme know what y’all think!

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, palming (is that a warning?)

Words:2600

Tag List: @happyveday​ @sydney-m​ @saritanotserena​

  As soon as you stepped into the barn-converted-to-mess-hall in Albourne, you knew what was coming. 

 "There she is, fuckin' goddess of war herself! Come to see how the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch in the 506 is doin' this morning?" 

 You just chuckled and shook your head at his exaggerated smug look. "Yeah, Bill. Something like that."

 Guarnere winked at you and you could not figure out how it was possible for such a simple action to be so dirty. The way he tilted his head just slightly, the corner of his mouth lifted in a half smirk followed by a quick wink...you could feel heat pooling in your belly and your breath catch. 

 The cocky grin on his face grew as he saw the hint of pink on your cheeks. He knew what that wink did to you and he LOVED using it against you. 

 Bastard. 

 "Something you need, Y/L/N?" Martin asked from the table closest to the door.  

 "Yeah, any of you seen Lip?"

 Luz answered from the table, cigarette dangling from between his lips. "Think he went back to the house to grab something. Why?"

 You waved Luz off as you could see him start to stand, stepping further into the barn. "Just need to ask him something. Winters is in a meeting otherwise I'd ask him."

 "Why don't you take a seat, he should be back soon."

 "Perfect spot saved right here for the Valkyrie of Easy!" Bill announced, patting the open spot on the bench next to him. 

 You rolled your eyes but relented, moving past the other table to drop next to Guarnere. On his other side sat Heffron, still looking a bit wide-eyed and nervous that he somehow won the coveted spot with the Toccoa men. Toye sat across, giving you a brief nod when you sat down. Perconte, Christianson, Skinny, and Grant also took up residence around the table. Perco seemed to have been in the middle of telling some overly, exaggerated story. 

 Most of Easy relaxed in the barn. The Toccoa men were grateful for the break from the front-line and hot food instead of K rations. All the replacements were eager for the next jump, ready to soil their ODs, not truly understanding that war would only take from them, never give. The division between Toccoa men and replacements was painfully obvious. 

 Heffron leaned around Guarnere to meet your eyes. "Hey, sorry again about the fellas yesterday. They've been like that since training."

 "Not your fault, Babe." You shrugged, running a hand through your hair. 

 "What's he talkin' about?" Guarnere narrowed his eyes at you. Even Toye across the table was staring at you in concern. 

 "Nothing, Bill. It's fine."

 "If you're sayin' its fine then it ain't fuckin' fine." He growled. When he realized you were not going to elaborate, he turned on Babe. "What the fuck happened?"

 The redheaded replacement looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world in that moment than being interrogated by Wild Bill. "Some of the men were...ah, tryin' to...um… proposition her." He finished with a wince. 

 A long beat of silence.

 Then Guarnere exploded. 

 He pounded the table with a tight fist, the table shaking at the impact.  A snarl on his lips, he started to rise from his seat, eyeing the tables further away full of replacements. "Who the fuck was it? Someone from our platoon? Imma fuckin' kill 'em. Who was it?"

 "No," you cut in, grabbing his arm and restraining him, hoping to stop him before he worked himself up into a frenzy, "some replacements from third."

 He growled but let you pull him back down. "Goddamn replacements. They touch you?"

 "No, Bill. I handled it."

 Toye spoke up, eyeing his friend carefully as if to see if he was going to have to prevent a replacement's murder or help hide the body. "What you do?"

 You smirked, squeezing Guarnere's arm for good measure then pulled your hand back into your lap. "Told them if they tried to pull that shit again, I'd rip their cocks off and mail them to their mothers."

 All the men at the table either winced or shifted uncomfortably at the mental image. 

 "Hey, don't you be touchin' no one's cocks." Bill said, fury still on his face but also amusement. 

 You raised an eyebrow, "what would you rather I have done? Swung at them? Give Sink a reason to send me packing?"

 "Nah, you swing at 'em, they might fall in love." He winked at you again, telling you he knew exactly what he was talking about. Underneath the table, hidden from view, his knuckles skimmed the outside of your thigh. You attempted to hide the shiver that caused but knew you failed when Guarnere chuckled quietly.

 "Why would that matter?" Babe asked innocently. 

 "Oh, here we go." Toye sighed. 

 "Shut up Joe, the kid asked alright." Guarnere started his story, pleased to have a new, rapt audience. "So here we are, back in Toccoa, right? Most of us have already arrived and started trainin' with goddamn Sobel. Then one day this beautiful broad shows up and we're told she's joinin' the paratroopers. None of us believe it. Why would a broad be joinin'? Don't make no fuckin' sense. So the next day we're supposed to be startin' to learn self-defense and guess who I get paired up with? Huh? Lovely Y/L/N over here. Right, so I'm fuckin' pissed cause I don't wanna be fightin' no broad but Sobel is watchin' like a hawk. I tell her I'll pretend to swing at her and she should just fall down. Play fightin', ya know? Like when youse a kid. I take a swing at her, thinkin' she knew the plan. She easily dodges my swing and before I can right myself, she lands a punch on me. Knocked me flat on my ass and seein' stars. I look up to see this goddess standin' over me, bloody knuckles and all, and she says 'you better get up and fight me like a man before I knock you on your ass again'."

 "So, what you do?" Heffron asked, surprise clearly written all over his face. 

 Guarnere tapped the table with his finger. "What did I do? Well, I got up and told her that when this war is over, I'm gonna fuckin' marry her, that's what I was gonna do."

 Those who had heard the story before chuckled while Heffron sat there, head tilted and eyes bouncing between you and Guarnere like he was waiting for the punchline still. 

 "Why? No offense, Y/L/N." 

 Guarnere threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Cause she hits harder than any fella I've ever known, includin' me brother Henry. Boxin' champion that one was. Now if that ain't a reason to marry someone, I don't know what is."

 "And she puts up with your bullshit." Toye deadpanned. 

 You rolled your eyes, sliding out from underneath Guarnere's arm. "That's just words unless there's a ring and I don't plan on marrying for a while yet. Still gotta win a war first." You stood up, smoothing down your ODs. "'Sides, maybe by then I'll find someone who doesn't annoy me so much."

 "Nah, you'd miss my handsome face too much."

 "You keep telling yourself that, Bill."

 "One day you'll come around." He winked, making your insides warm. You would never understand how that was possible. The Philadelphian pointed a finger at you. "You lemme know if any of those replacements bother you again. Can't have those bastards propositionin' my future wife."

 "See you later, boys." You said, not even bothering to answer him. You headed towards the door, intent on finding Lipton; but also to get away from the man who gave you such feels without even saying a word. Then when he did speak, complimenting and claiming you in front of the others…. it was becoming harder and harder to keep your hands and your lips to yourself. 

 ***** 

 You leaned against the doorframe, admiring the man who was too caught up in writing a letter home to have noticed you yet. He twirled the pencil between his fingers as he thought about his words. The chair creaked under him as he shifted, leaning forward against the wooden desk to continue writing. The small bedroom only consisted of the desk, chair and bed. Guarnere's duffle bag was thrown in a corner with things haphazardly pulled out. The NCOs had been billeted in a house together, everyone able to have their own rooms unlike the enlisted men who were forced to share a converted barn.

 When you had first met him, and your first real encounter resulted in you punching him, you had thought he was the most unhelpful, condescending, little shit; and you had no problems telling him that for weeks after. When he had bounced back to his feet and proposed...you had laughed so uncontrollably, it had taken a sharp bark from Lipton to get you to focus again. 

 Over the following weeks, the bastard would openly flirt with you and practically pummel anyone else who tried to. Sometime around Fort Benning, your own feelings toward him started to change. No longer was he a man you loathed. You found yourself happy he was in your platoon, that he hovered around you keeping assholes from other companies away, that you enjoyed his flirting and when you two were alone... you reciprocated. 

 Actually, the first time you flirted back, he almost choked on his tongue he was so surprised. After that, things shifted between you two. 

 He continued openly flirting but understood you could not since you were under far more scrutiny and Sobel was looking for ANY reason to get rid of you. 

 For two years Guarnere had been in your life...and you hoped for the rest of it too. 

 "Enjoyin' the view, sweetheart?"

 You smiled at him as he leaned back in the chair, legs still under the desk. "Should I be?"

 He scoffed. "You know you like what you see...I'll tell you though," his eyes raked over you, "you're a fuckin' goddess with a body to drive a man crazy."

 You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand to minimize the sound, as he winked at you before turning back to his letter. 

 "The other NCOs said you were going out tonight for drinks."

 "Yeah, yeah. Told 'em if I didn't finish this letter for my ma, she'd jump on a boat and come find me. Got three letters from her already. Last one she threatened to come find me. So, I told the fellas I'd meet them there."

 The muffled sounds of the other NCOs drifted up the stairs; they were gathered in the common room getting ready to head out. With that in mind, you moved silently across the room to where he sat at the chair. Coming up behind him, you dragged your hands over his broad shoulders then down his firm chest, stilled his motions. 

 "Y/N…"

 You loved touching him, could not get enough of it when you were able to. What you also loved doing was paying him back for teasing you. 

 One of your hands continued to travel downward until you palmed his cock. He froze, pencil hovering just about his letter. Without a word, you slowly, torturously, stroked him over his trousers. 

 "Fuck, sweetheart." He groaned, tipping his head back slightly. 

 "You said earlier I wasn't supposed to be touching anyone's cocks...does that include yours?"

 Turning his head, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye but before he could speak, you took the tip of his earlobe between your teeth. 

 "Hands on the desk, Sergeant." You growled in his ear. 

 Immediately, his hands slammed on the wooden desk, palms down. The pencil fell to the floor. Letter now forgotten on the desk. 

 "Mmm, yes, sir… you keep them there." You continued slowly stroking his cock over his trousers. "You have no idea how bad I wanted to kiss you earlier when we were at the mess hall." You licked up the curve of his ear, feeling him shudder under your touch. Your hand gave him a gentle squeeze as you continued whispering in his ear. "Think I should punish you for teasing me earlier? That wink you gave me...all the dirty images it put in my head. Want me to tell you about them?"

 "Fuck, sweetheart, yes."

 "I thought about you bending me over one of those tables. Notice how they are at the perfect height? How good you would feel inside me. How deep you would be."

 One of his hands started to move off the table, drifting towards where your hand played with him. 

 You nipped his earlobe sharply, making him hiss. "Hands up, Sergeant, or no reward later."

 "You're gonna kill me, darlin'." His hand slammed back on the desk. 

 You licked a line up his neck before pressing your lips against his ear again. The pace of your hand increased, his chest rising and falling to match. "Remember that time in Mackall where we snuck into the parachute packing building and fucked on the silks. You couldn't wait to get inside of me and almost tore my new ODs. So I made you wait and watch as I started touching myself. After someone came in and we almost got caught."

 His hips were now rutting against your hand, the chair shaking with his movements.  His hands were in white-knuckled fists on the desks, trembling with his desire to get them on you. 

 Unable to help yourself, you grabbed his face with your free hand, turning it to press a bruising, messy kiss to his lips. He greedily took ownership of your mouth and deepened the kiss. He plundered your mouth with his tongue, reminding you how his mouth and skillful tongue alone could drive you wild. 

 Finally you broke away, pressing your forehead against his temple as you attempted to refill your lungs with the oxygen he had stolen. "God, I wish I could kiss you out there. Let everyone know I am yours. Maybe share quarters with you instead of sneaking around like teenagers. Fuck whenever we want."

 "I'd be the luckiest, fuckin' bastard in all of Easy. You're mine. My goddess."

 "There is one thing I need right now. I need the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch above me. I need my man inside me." You squeezed your hand, making him tip his head back and loudly groan. "Now the other NCOs are just downstairs. Think you can keep quiet?"

 He pressed a hard and fast kiss to your lips. "Oh darlin', it ain't me whose gonna have to keep from screamin'."

 "Mmm, think you can help me out?"

 "I'd do anythin' for ya…." He turned in his seat, hands now stroking your waist with a completely wicked and sinful smirk on his face. "Go lock the door."

 You stepped back, admiring the disheveled look on Guarnere, how his eyes blazed with passion and desire. For you. Without tearing your gaze from his, you shut the door and locked it behind you. 

 "Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

 "Only for you. Come on, Sergeant, show me how good you are with your...arsenal."

 Before you could move, he leapt out of his chair, making it clatter on the floor as it tipped over in his enthusiasm. He picked you up easily and tossed you on the bed. You laughed only to be immediately silenced by his mouth slamming against yours, a moan drawn from you as his talented fingers rid you of your clothing with an almost inhuman speed. 

 *****

 Later that night Guarnere was quite late for getting to the pub but he did not mind one bit. Especially since his bed now smelled like you…. And he had been able to remind you how much he loved you. 

 Quite vigorously. 

[saebyeog-i]

a formal occasion | pcy (m)

“He could probably hear your muttering but not any specific words, so you waved your hands subtly in an attempt to reassure him that everything was fine, nothing unusual was happening, and your boyfriend definitely wasn’t talking about sex while seated in the third row pew of a church.”

genre | established relationship idolverse au, romance-ish?, softer than I intended this to be, half fluff/half smut, my attempt at humor, a mostly unedited one shot

warnings | uhhh inappropriate whispering during church, mentions of drinking and celebratory tequila shots, under the dinner table fingering does that count as exhibitionism, dirty talk on the dance floor, semi-public sex, I’m a slut for PCY in a suit (a soft, overly romantic and emotional slut, but a slut nonetheless).

word count | this is 6.66k because i’m going to hell

pairing | PCY x f!reader

—

“I wonder if they fucked in the last week,” he whispers in your ear, leaning over from his place next to you in the pew.

Your eyes bugged out, pupils the size of saucers as your brain caught up and processed. Did you hear him right? Did he actually just ask that? “Oh my god,” you muttered, not wanting to cause a scene or feed into his poorly timed query.

“The dress is really pretty, she looks good, though the white’s not really accurate given… you know,” he gestured his hands vaguely in front of him, low enough that only you could see. “Now that I think about it, I can’t even count the number of times he bailed on plans with me or the guys to go hang out with her in the last six months. But I guess now we know it wasn’t just hanging out as much as it was—”

“Chanyeol!” You hiss, eyes darting around to see if anyone heard him.

“What?” He jeers back in a hushed tone, “It’s not like it’s a secret— ow!”

Were this a conversation the two of you were having in private (namely, in your own apartment or bed), then maybe your reaction would be different other than you reaching under his suit coat and pinching the flesh of his oblique muscles harshly between your thumb and forefinger. But it wasn’t in private— you were in public, in a church no less, at Jongdae’s wedding.

“Shut. Up. Now,” you muttered lowly through gritted teeth. They were only on the first reading, so there was roughly another half hour before the ceremony would end, depending on how long each subsequent reading and the vows would take. Even if his mind was wandering somewhere slightly inappropriate, you were grateful that despite being a groomsman you were able to be seated next to your boyfriend for the duration of the ceremony. Chanyeol knew you well enough by now to know that you really didn’t like just being an accessory if you accompanied him somewhere specifically as his date. Maybe it was selfish, but truthfully it was more because you barely got to spend time with him as it was with his busy schedule, but you preferred when he could stay by your side like this.

You knew most of the boys’ partners, and you all got along well. Hell, it was even you and Jongae’s soon to be wife who had the idea for all of you to get together when the boys were on tour last and have a good ol’ fashioned ‘girls night’, whatever that meant. (Wine. It meant entirely too much wine and an hour of promising you were going to take turns cooking different snacking foods only to end up ordering delivery. Though instead of sappy romantic comedies, the lot of you watched some zombie apocalypse movies and a few comedy specials. All in all, a good night.)

Even though you’d been together for almost two years, you still felt slightly anxious any time you accompanied him to an event, public or private. Publicly, you were just among the throngs of ‘Guests of EXO’, usually not getting to spend any time close to him. Privately, however, you were able to be glued to his side— not that Chanyeol would have it any other way. You were more on the introverted side of the spectrum, and sometimes having such an extrovert for a boyfriend was downright exhausting. But he’d been so excited to bring you along to the wedding, saying that it was the first big happy life milestone for a member of the group, and he wanted you to be a part of it.

It didn’t take too long for him to convince you, either. Once it became clear how far their management would go to protect the details of the event and keep as much of it as private as possible, you felt more at ease about joining him. You had your fair share of qualms about the label, of which Chanyeol was well aware (let’s just say you didn’t have the tightest lips when you’d been drinking), but so far today was handled better than you’d expected.

“Seriously though—” he whispered, tilting his head towards you again.

“Zip. It. We are in a church,” you shot back, locking eyes with him. On his other side, you could see Junmyeon leaning slightly forward, eyebrows raised and giving you both a questioning look. He could probably hear your muttering but not any specific words, so you waved your hands subtly in an attempt to reassure him that everything was fine, nothing unusual was happening, and your boyfriend definitely wasn’t talking about sex while seated in the third row pew of a church.

Said boyfriend held his hands up defensively, shoulders shrugging as he muttered under his breath “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking! Everyone knows you can still have sex while you’re earlier on in a pregnancy—”

“Yeol!”

⬷ ❤ ⤐

Miraculously, you made it through the remainder of the ceremony without any mishaps and Chanyeol keeping any additional commentary to himself. The reception was held at a lovely partially outdoor venue with a garden and a large white tent, with plenty of room for dancing socializing. The number of invited guests was more than you’d anticipated, but then again, you guessed that Jongdae was a popular guy. You were seated at the head table with the rest of the bridal party, nursing a vodka soda while you watched the bridesmaids and groomsmen give their speeches.

And then it was time for the first dance of the newlywed couple.

Of course there was live music at this event— why wouldn’t there be? When the groom was a member of the nation’s boy group, it would have been near criminal not to have some nod to his livelihood. Chanyeol had been beaming with pride when he and Baekhyun had been asked to perform for their first dance, insisting that it was always their first choice, and not just because Kyungsoo was only able to get off base the day of the ceremony for leave from his enlistment and wouldn’t be able to rehearse at all. He also definitely didn’t count this as ‘sweet retribution’ for the tiny grudge he definitely didn’t still hold over his sister and the fact that Yoora had asked Kyungsoo to sing at her wedding for her first dance instead of him.

Watching Chanyeol perform on stage with the rest of his members or for his subunit with Sehun was always a treat, but there was something markedly special about watching him perform like this: playing an instrument, this time an acoustic guitar, side by side with Baekhyun on a pair of barstools. They were playing some love song you recognized but didn’t know the words to, and Baekhyun’s voice was doing a beautiful justice to the song. Every now and again, Chanyeol would lean forward into the mic angled in front of him and harmonize. They’d only rehearsed this a handful of times, what with busy schedules and each of them working on preparations for comebacks soon, but it still sounded heavenly to you. You watched appreciatively, even taking a moment to look around at the guests to see a number of cell phones out to film them.

For a while, it was if Chanyeol was in his own world that was just him, Baekhyun, Jongdae, and his now wife. But as the song approached its end, his eyes fluttered open and his gaze drifted to where you sat. You’d seen him through a plethora of different hair styles and colors in the time you’d been together, and while you loved his natural black hair, a different part of you was fond of the bleached blond hair he was currently sporting for filming a comeback music video. You smiled shyly, looking down at your glass for a moment before back up at him, the alcohol and the long day swirling together to make you feel just a little bit warm. He was the self proclaimed romantic of the group, the one who cried the most, and the one who talked about his feelings the most. Despite his stature and his sometimes intimidating persona when on stage, he was no more ferocious than a teddy bear, and you loved him all the more for it.

By the time the song had finished and he and Baekhyun had made their own rounds with the guests who wanted to say hello, compliment their performance, or ask for the occasional photo, you’d gotten just a little bit sleepy. You were chatting with Jongin, asking how his recent tour and promotions were going,  and he was telling stories of their recent show in Paris and how it was very different from the last time he’d been when you felt a pressure on the top of your head.

“Can I help you? You’re going to ruin my hair.” You didn’t need any indication of who was leaning almost their entire bodyweight on top of you. He was getting restless, so of course he was getting clingy.

“Was I good? Tell me I was good. You liked it right? Gosh, I know I’m so talented and so handsome, you’re really lucky to have a boyfriend like me,” he went on and on, fishing for praise and you rolled your eyes, looking to Jongin for some kind of aid. He only laughed, holding up his phone to snap a photo before firing it off into some group chat or another. You made a mental note to file this moment away for reference if there ever came a future time when Jongin would make pleading eyes for you to come to his rescue as he had so kindly failed to do for you just now.

You whined as Chanyeol leaned further forward, going deadweight on top of you at your lack of response. “Yah! Too heavy, you’re gonna crush me!” Of course he started to laugh, and of course he relented finally, pulling out the chair next to you and settling down. He flipped over his phone which he’d left on the table and began scrolling through his unread notifications, left hand reaching over to rest on your knee but his focus staying on his screen, so you turned back to the others to continue polite conversation.

Chanyeol was a very physical person. He was very touchy feely. But he wasn’t exactly big on PDA, unless you were in trustworthy company. It was not unusual for him to keep a hand on your arm, your leg, your waist, even if his attention was focused elsewhere when you were in such company. It was a slightly possessive habit of his, but not one you minded all that much. It was comforting, really, a reminder that he was still right there.

You never really minded it all that much until, that is, you felt that slightly possessive hand snake its way under the skirt of your dress via the slit on your right leg and up your thigh. You were mid sentence answering a question from Yixing about your most recent vacation when you felt Chanyeol’s fingers making their way under the fabric of your underwear and drawing circles on your hip bone. That was all fine and dandy, until a moment later when you felt his hand reach further over towards your core and then the pad of his thumb rub two harsh circles over your clit in quick succession, causing you to inhale sharply at the sensation and choke on whatever unimportant words were coming out of your mouth at that moment. You were definitely more awake now than you were five minutes ago.

“Babe? You okay?” He had the audacity of asking you, feigned concern spread across his face.

You grimaced and nodded, inching your chair forward slightly so your lap was covered by more of the tablecloth. Chanyeol’s fingers retreated to your hip bone. “Mmm. Just uh, a cramp, that’s all,” you turned back to Yixing with a smile and finished your earlier sentence as your phone buzzed on the table in front of you.

Quickly, you pulled it into your lap to read the message.

찬열 20:04 I thought your period was last week?

You really never should have given him shared access to the health app data on your phone where you tracked your cycle. Seriously. But he had asked, insisted even, saying that he wanted to be aware so he couldn’t know when you needed a restock on tampons, or maybe when having some extra dark chocolate lying around the house would be appreciated.

20:06 It was, you’re just a monster and it was the first excuse I could think of.

찬열 20:07 But if you really didn’t like it, you’d tell me to stop, wouldn’t you?

You shot him a dirty look and had half a thought to step on his toes with the heel of your shoe under the table. As if he could read your mind and your intentions, he retaliated preemptively by slipping two fingers back under the fabric of your panties and between your folds. You bit down on the inside of your mouth, hard, unwilling to be caught by any of the people surrounding you.

But he was right. You didn’t really want him to stop. If you were being honest, you’d been just a little bit horny all day— something about everyone dressed up all dapper, specifically Chanyeol in a suit with his hair styled up on the top like it was now. You felt the slightest hesitation in the movements of Chanyeol’s hand, and you knew it was in slight surprise to the amount of moisture he found. Eyes still focused on his phone screen, his fingers found their way inside of you and curled as he gave two drawn out pumps, placing pressure right where you felt it the most.

찬열 20:11 You’re so wet… have you been thinking about this all night? Fuck, you’re dirty

20:12 Shut up shut up shut UP Just fucking do me or don’t or I swear to god, Yeol

찬열 20:13 Oh okay, I’ll stop

“No,” you hissed out, a hand grabbing his wrist and stopping him from removing his fingers from inside of you. If he was going to tease you this much, he was going to finish the damn job. Across the table from you, you saw Minseok raise his eyebrows curiously at you while sipping on his glass of red wine. Like Kyungsoo, he’d also only been able to take leave from his enlistment for a single night, and it would be the only night he’d get for months yet to come, but he’d even said there was no way he was going to miss this.

The conversation around you resumed, and you politely remained as engaged as you could while your boyfriend was knuckle deep inside of you. and nodding when appropriate. You sighed out and relaxed against the back of your chair, inching your hips forward and meeting his fingers on a thrust inward as Chanyeol quietly and lazily fucked you with his hand. He was mostly just teasing you, lightly stoking the flame in the pit of your belly, keeping your desire going but never satisfying it. It was like he was timing his movement, his slender and well trained fingers never paying enough attention to any one part of your center to actually put you over the edge.

You could feel the crown of your head becoming damp with sweat. God, was he really able to work you up this much in public? Did you have a thing for exhibitionism? Did he? You’d never spoken about that as a potential kink together, but maybe based on your body’s reaction to current events it warranted a conversation later—

“Shit,” you coughed out quietly after one particularly hard thrust of his fingers and a rub on your clit almost sent you spiraling. Did Minseok just snicker? No, no way, he was talking to Junmyeon and his date, he wasn’t paying attention to you and Chanyeol. Involuntarily your walls clenched around him and you leaned forward covering your mouth with your napkin, trying to hold in a moan as you tapped out another message.

20:26 Could you PLEASE stop edging me and either make me cum or get your hand out of my pants while the rest of your friends are five feet away?

찬열 20:29 Mmmm you know I was thinking about it But now that you say it like that, no. Maybe if you asked nicely.

20:30 Fuck you I said ‘please’

찬열 20:32 Is that a threat or a promise?

Before you could even muse a comeback let alone type one out, Chanyeol quickens his pace, and one, two, three brushes against your clit and you’re tumbling over the edge. It was by far not the strongest you’d ever orgasmed on Chanyeol’s hand, and honestly you were grateful— it made it possible for you to (you thought) remain calm, demurely raise your water glass to your lips, and take a long drink while your eyes fluttered closed and he worked you through the waves, like a slow undulation washing over your body in warmth.  

Were you not actively in the middle of dozens of people, you would have half expected him to bring his fingers to his mouth and suck the cum off of them. You fantasized briefly about him doing it anyways, pinching the top of your thigh to snap out of the post-orgasm daze and remind yourself of your surroundings. Calmly, he wiped his hands on the napkin in his lap before glancing your way with a smile plastered on his face and planting a tender kiss on your cheek.

“What was that for?” You asked, your voice breathier than you’d intended. Even if it wasn’t that strong, the high mixed with the alcohol had you dizzy, drunk on wine and his affection and you thought again how good he looked in that suit.

“Nothing,” he grinned even wider, “I just love you, that’s all.”

You let out a sharp laugh, flicking your eyebrows up critically as you began thinking of ways to get back at him later.

Junmyeon’s eyebrows furrowed as he called your name and asked, “Have you had enough to eat? You look a little flushed. Too much to drink maybe?” He offered hesitantly, ever the one to be caring and concerned.

Minseok rolled his eyes and snorted. “Sure, that’s all she’s had tonight.”

“What?” The leader asked, not quite catching on.

“Ah Myeonnie, I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Minseok mused, leaning back into his chair with a cheshire grin as he drank from his glass some more.

You were, of course, nothing short of mortified.

⬷ ❤ ⤐

The following hours passed and slowly, guests began drifting away, and the crowd reduced down to only a few dozen attendees as the clock neared midnight. You had finally gotten to see Jongdae and his now-wife and congratulate them on their marriage, and on the beautiful ceremony and how much fun the party was. You’d lost count of the number of drinks you’d had, and Chanyeol had stopped his intake an hour or so ago in order to sober up and drive home, only remembering that somewhere before that Yixing had convinced everyone to do two rounds of tequila shots together. One because they were all together again for the first time in ages as he lamented that only Jongdae could reunite the family, and two when he realized that the bride was unable to join in the celebration. “We all have to drink for her because she can’t!” He’d jeered to the group, immediately waving for one of the bartenders to supply the second round. You’d giggled at his antics, but no one objected as the glasses were refilled and lime wedges passed around again.

The music had switched to a DJ at this point, and after a long stretch of high energy popular dance songs to which you heard the drunken clamor of main vocalists croon humorously off-key to, the last few had been softer, quieter slow songs. You’d finally relented and taken your shoes off, feet aching after the last several hours, and were currently swaying side to side in a lazy slow dance with your arms draped around Chanyeol’s shoulders, face halfway buried in his chest. To avoid the chances of him accidentally stepping on your bare toes, you were balancing with the bridges of your feet over his dress shoes. You’d done this a few times before, always feeling a little shy about it, worrying that you were too heavy. And yet, every time, he’d insist that no, it was fine, with a kiss on your lips or your cheek or the corner of your eye. He rather liked you relying on him like this.

It was so rare that you got to spend an entire day with him like this, surrounded by friends and chosen family. Despite how anxious you’d been earlier about this day, you felt yourself falling more in love with him as you looked into each other’s eyes. Usually a comfortable silence would be appreciated, but there was a glint in his gaze and you were compelled to ask him what he was thinking about.

“Just thinking,” he murmured into your ear, “Of when it might be our turn.”

The way your hands suddenly tightened around his was something you couldn’t help. “Cut it out, seriously Yeol. Stop teasing me, I thought you’d have had your fill with earlier,” You had to look away, pressing your forehead into his chest shyly as you thought of how you’d quietly excused yourself to go to the restroom and clean yourself up from his ‘handiwork’ under the table.

“You know I can never have enough of you,” he murmured in earnest. “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you, you know.” Your ears burned at the whispers. “Really though— pregnant with my child or not, if someone told me I had to go a whole week without feeling your sweet cunt, I don’t think I could do it.”

You clenched your thighs together, the ache from earlier returning full force.

“You’ve done it before, you could do it again. What are you, some kinda sex addict all of a sudden?” you mused, thinking back to the times he went on tour and you were left settling for breathy moans through phone calls at odd hours due to time differences and insane schedules. The heat inside you began building again, thinking of the frantic reunions that always followed those long stretches without one another.

Chanyeol’s laugh was lodged deep in his chest, and you felt the vibrations as you kept yourself pressed against him. “The less of that the better. Being inside you feels too good to willingly deprive myself of that.”

Your cheeks flushed once more. What was up with him today and the sex talk in public? This time wasn’t so bad, considering between the music and the distance from the people still gathered your conversation felt somewhat private—at least, more private than when you were seated in church pews. Clearly he was horny given this evening’s earlier events, but you didn’t think it was this much.

You continued to sway together in relative silence while Chanyeol began to hum absentmindedly to the song playing, one you recognized as the group’s own. And then you had a thought, and you were feeling bold, and so you gave the thought life and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a thing for weddings and formal events.”

His grip on your waist tightened.

“I’d think maybe, you get off on dressing up all nice, the whole wine and dine, everyone seeing you look so good,” you paused, mulling over the next thought briefly before continuing, “Though we already know you get off on the attention. That must be why every time you come home from performing you can’t wait to slam my back to the mattress and fuck me into next week, huh?” You teased, rocking your hips forward just enough to press against the front of his dress pants.

In doing so, you weren’t disappointed. Your thought was, more or less, correct. You rocked your hips forward subtly once more, relishing in the feeling of his growing hard on against you. “You just can’t stop thinking about pulling me into the nearest closet or bathroom and getting balls deep in me, can you?” This, you thought as your boldness grew, was payback for earlier.

He pushed away from you suddenly, and you backed off of his feet, stumbling. You were about to apologize, thinking you’d gone too far, when he wrapped his hand around your wrist and growled lowly, “We’re leaving. Now.”

You pulled your lips between you teeth in an attempt to stifle the giggles that threatened to erupt through you as you trailed along after him, retrieving your coats and bags from the chairs at the table as he quickly said goodbyes and gave handshakes and half-hearted hugs to anyone he deemed important enough in those two minutes. You grabbed your heels and quickly slipped them back on, not bothering to buckle them as you did you best to keep up with Chanyeol’s long legs whisking you towards the parking lot of the venue.

“I can’t believe you got me hard in the middle of the dance floor,” he said, voice hushed and gravely.

“I can’t believe you fingered me under the table,” you retorted, watching as he fumbled through his pocket with his free hand and retrieved his car keys.

“I still can’t believe you let me,” he laughed in response, clicking twice and listening for where his vehicle was parked. At the sound of the beep, his eyes widened and he began outright running, and you whined at the feeling in your feet as you somehow managed to keep up with him. “God it was so hot, you did so good baby,” he cooed as the two of you reached his car. He released your wrist only to pull you close to him and cup your cheeks in his palms and place a searing needy kiss against you, which you happily returned. “Please,” he whined as he pulled away, “It’s not a bathroom or a closet but please will you please let me fuck you in the back of my car? I don’t wanna wait til we get home.”

You couldn’t even bother keeping up with idea of teasing him because seeing him so hot and bothered in that suit had you feeling needy and willing for anything. You nodded enthusiastically and he sighed in relief, opening the door to the backseat and a hand flying to the zipper of your dress and tugging it down in one go before pushing you inside.

Usually, you made fun of the deeply tinted windows when you rode in his car with him, asking him if he could even see out the windows to drive. Now, however, you were silently grateful for them, because there was no way in which you could fathom waiting until the two of you got home.

Your heels dropped off to the floor of the back seat. His suit coat was thrown tersely over the head rest of the driver’s side. The straps of your dress fell down your arms, and he trailed kisses from your neck to your  collar bone to the space between your breasts, hands snaking around to your back and nimbly undoing the clasps on your bra. You reached for his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons and yanking them down less tenderly than he had your dress— maybe that was because you knew he had plenty of pairs, and he knew this dress had been a more expensive splurge for you.  His hands gently bunched the fabric of your skirt upward as you raised your hips, pulling the garment off over your torso and attempting to throw it carefully towards the back of the car. You began undoing the buttons on his collared shirt from the bottom and when your hands met in the middle after he’d started at the top, he grabbed hold of them to pull you forward in a another kiss, holding you so tight you would have thought your lungs were the only source of his air.

“Ow! Shit shit shit,” he cried suddenly, having raised his head up too quickly to finish ridding himself of clothes and slamming it against a fixture on the ceiling.

You couldn’t help the laugh you let out. “You okay? We can just go home if it’s too cramped— oh,” your words were cut off with a moan as his fingers found their way back into your center, and you had your answer. The cramped space didn’t matter, the throbbing on the top of his head didn’t matter, the only that that did matter was you and him and how he made you feel.

He caged himself over you, curving his back to dip his head down to reach your neck to bite gently at your skin and leave faint marks in his wake while his fingers continued to work at your clit. You raked your nails down his skin, head falling back and eyes rolling with it as he pushed you higher and higher. “Stop, stop stop— any more and I’ll cum, I wanna cum with you, please,” you begged, forcing your eyes open and taking his hand in yours to remove him from you.

Chanyeol looked to the side of a moment before sighing in defeat. “No condom,” he said sullenly, lips forming an adorably disappointed pout, “We ran out of the extra stash last month, forgot to replace it.”

You thought for a minute, heavy panting filling the silence in the close confines of the car. “Well, I was going to wait for an anniversary or a special occasion to tell you, but… I changed my birth control last month,” you admitted, your unoccupied hand trailing up his abdomen to his chest, “And instead of a pill that I could forget to take, I now have an implant that’s always there, so…” you trailed off, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes in your best attempt at seduction.

Chanyeol let out a deep and guttural groan. “Fuck, fuck please baby does that mean what I think it means?”

There was something about seeing your big strong boyfriend reduced to a whining for you that redoubled your confidence and gave you the willpower to take his hand, still covered in your wetness from just a moment ago, and take his fingers into your mouth and suck them clean. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed harshly, eyes watching your lips the whole time.

“It means,” you said lowly after removing his fingers from your mouth with a pop, “That I want you to lay back and let me ride you until you cum inside me.”

Your boyfriend let out a shaky breath, gaping at your bold words and actions. “Fucking hell, I was just gonna say let me eat you out and I’d settle for a hand job but oh my god this is so much better,” his mouth was on yours as he pulled you close again, and you smiled into the kiss as you felt his dick twitch against your thigh.

It wasn’t the first time you’d forgone a condom with Chanyeol, but it wasn’t a frequent occurrence. The only other time you could remember off the top of your head was when he was away on tour, and your work had miraculously sent you on an overseas business trip that landed the two of you in the same city for a night. Between being a few hundred miles from home and the shared need for one another, you both ended up saying you’d just deal with the morning after pill tomorrow.

But none of that was of concern now. Now, you straddled his thighs and pushed him back, taking control of the moment. You kissed him again, slower than before, mapping the insides of his mouth with your tongue. “Ready?” You asked, circling your hips over him, cupping his face in your hands like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“God I love you,” he whispered back, stroking his hands down your sides. Slowly, with as much patience as you could muster, you lowered yourself on to him and felt your neck go limp as you adjusted to the size inside of you, a heady groan finding its way out of you. “Oh my god,” he croaked, bringing his hand to his mouth to bite on his thumb from the overwhelming sense of pleasure he felt. You hated that the thought crossed your mind, but you really could feel him so much more like this. As you purposefully clenched your walls around him once, you wondered if he felt the same. The string of curses that left his mouth answered your question.

“Good?” You asked with mirth, and he nodded feverishly, hands returning to your hips and pulling you forward. You swatted him playfully in response. “Hey, my turn on top, I set the pace,” you teased. It wasn’t often that you were courageous enough to take charge, so you wanted to relish in it as much as you could.

He laughed and pulled his hands back, holding them up defensively. “Your wish is my command, do your worst.”

You laughed out a single breath. ‘Challenge accepted.’ Fully adjusted to his size now, you rolled your hips forward slowly and snapped them back again.

The teasing comments and banter quickly subsided, replaced with only soft exhales and the sound of skin against skin. You could feel your thighs growing tired as you continued to raise and lower yourself on him, trying to stay active and make it as pleasurable for both of you as you could. But it had been a long day, and you were still tipsy, and you almost just wanted to make him come and get it over with so you could go home and fall asleep together.

Almost.

As if he could read your mind, Chanyeol’s open pouting lips curled up into a smile and and thrust up into you, meeting your hips on a movement down that had both of you gasping as the coil of heat in your belly began to bloom. You began rocking back and forth as he laid back more, the new angle reaching deeper and making you see stars.

“M’close, m’so close Yeol,” you moaned out softly. His right hand went down between you and began rubbing on your clit once more, while his other hand clasped yours, threading your fingers together. You held on for dear life, like he was the only thing that could anchor you to this plane of existence.

There was something so strangely intimate about the simple act of holding hands while fucking the love of your life that notched you just high enough to go spiraling over the edge into your orgasm. It washed over you in waves, and Chanyeol kept thrusting up under you, working you through the aftershocks until he came himself, a low throaty groan coming through his lips as you felt his cum paint your walls and his hand finally fell away from your core. You whined at the feeling, collapsing on top of him as a shudder ran down your spine, every inch of your skin overly sensitive like a livewire.

He kept one hand intertwined with yours and took his free one to brush his thumb across your cheek and tuck the stray hairs that had fallen out of place behind your ear. So gentle, so tender, but when you sat up again to plant a kiss at the corner of his mouth, you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes that meant he had something to say. You raised an eyebrow at him, waiting as you continued to try and reclaim steady breathing.

“Is this gonna be an all the time thing now? Because I’m not gonna lie, I might just bust a nut again right now if you tell me this is gonna be an all the time thing.” Even in the moments after sex, he still managed to have entirely too much energy and could talk your ear off. Nothing about the every day moments was ever too serious with Chanyeol. Somehow, there was always a sense of playfulness

You shushed him with another kiss on his lips and laughed. “Don’t nut again but yeah, I guess this can be an all the time thing now.” You knew he was kidding because he wasn’t even hard again inside you. Yet.

“Ahh! Ahh!” Chanyeol began letting out faked moans and fucked his hips up and into you, throwing his head back dramatically and pretending to come once more.

You couldn’t help but snort. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah but I’m your dork,” he replied, his finger tapping the tip of your nose playfully.

You pulled your face away, trying to think up some snarky remark to give him shit, and instead could only smile and let out a small laugh under your breath. His palms gently pressed to your lower back, holding you to him as if you’d disappear the moment he let go. Your hands returned to his face, thumbs brushing across his cheeks once more as you leaned in and kissed him again, slower and deeper than before. Everything you’d been through together, every secret meeting and fear of exposure and invasion of privacy, often times it felt like it might be too much— until you had moments with him like this, relishing in the feeling of connectedness and warmth and him.

After a short while of your head pressed to his chest and his hands gently stroking your back, you felt him begin to shift under you and pull out. You whined at the loss of him filling you and the skin to skin contact you craved, thinking for a heartbeat that you could just stay like this with him all night. He laughed softly, laying tender kisses all over as he mumbled apologies for needing to move, something about the side door of the car not being the most comfortable thing to have pressed against his back. He reached into a seat back pocket and fished out some stray napkins, using them to clean up the cum that spilled from you when you shifted off of his lap.

As the two of you redressed lazily and only enough to feign a sense of public decency and you crawled your way into the front passenger seat, you let out a yawn.

“Mmm see? Now we can go home and cuddle in bed,” he teased, ambling his way into the driver’s seat and buckling up as he pressed the ignition on the vehicle. Soft music filtered through the speakers, demos of his own work that he only let you listen to while they were still rough, and you felt overwhelmingly at ease with him.

With your head resting on your hand as you stared out the window at the Seoul city skyline, you felt a sense of calm settling over you, daydreaming of the softness of your shared bed that was waiting for you to collapse into it as soon as you got home. You could see from your peripheral Chanyeol’s gaze flicking over to you and then back to the road ahead as he came to a stop at a red light. “Hmm?” you mumbled, wondering if something was wrong for a moment as you shifted your gaze over to him.

“Okay, but seriously, how many times do you think they had sex today?”

“Chanyeol!”

—

author’s note | sksksksks oh my god this was so bad I am so sorry I just could NOT let go of this idea please don’t hate me I drank an entire bottle of soju and watched a supercut of the EXO section of the 2019 SM Town concert in Japan when OT6 performed in those fucking suits and then I wrote the first draft of this, sue me. Yeol really is just a big puppy that can’t let go of a question or an idea once it crosses his mind. my smut is always gonna be this kind of soft unless I’m feeling extra angsty just so you know

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #428

“there’s more money in tragedy, more net worth in self-pity  /  so you’re doubling down inside of your screen, hiding behind attention you seek”

Have you ever told someone, besides family, that you love them and meant it? Yeah. I've told friends that platonically, and I've said it to two people and romantically meant it. Are the blankets that are on your bed now made by someone you know in life? No. Have you seen all The Lord of the Rings movies? I haven't even seen one. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had in 2014? I had one. Can you walk in heels? I mean I can, but I don't like to. What does your mom say about the pictures on your Myspace? First the '14 question, now this... I don't think Mom ever had a Myspace, but I can answer for Facebook. She's always the person to "heart" react them and say something about how "beautiful" I am or something. ;x; What was the last thing you and your parents argued about? Idr. Do you feel your life is at its best? Fuck no. There better be better times than this. What do you worry about the most? The most? That's hard to say... but probably my career future. Or really just the future in general. Have you ever let someone be your everything? "Everything" still feels like an understatement. He was my source of happiness, a massive part of my own identity, and my promise for a better future. It was so, so unhealthy. Think back to the last person you kissed, how many times have you cried in their arms? Two times, I wanna say? What are some things you do when you’re mad? I get snappy and try to isolate myself to cry it out. How do you feel about your hair right now? I hate itttt. It's getting too long and just boring. I'm hoping I can get up with my hairdresser soon for a trim. What’s an interesting fact about you that not many people know? Uhhhh... I guess that I was a dancer for many years. I feel like I don't really fit the general "aesthetic" of dancers, so people have definitely been surprised to find out I was one. Do you do anything embarrassing when no one is home? No. Just because no one ELSE is there, I'd embarrass my damn self lol. If you had the chance to move to a completely different state/county, would you? Fuck yes I would. Could you ever be friends with someone that broke your heart? It's funny, because that's what the traumatized, overly-attached part of me wants (at the bare minimum), but my common sense knows that's dumb as fuck. I could never healthily be friends with him. Are you scared of fireworks? No, but others are terrified by them, so keep that in mind. Does anyone know every little detail about you? No. You woke up one day and discovered that you were only able to see in black and white… as well as one other colour. What colour would that be and why? I guess red? It sounds morbid for it to be the first thing my mind goes to, but that way, I'd be able to see blood and therefore be able to detect a symptom of danger. What is your favourite soundtrack for a film/video game/television show? (Though feel free to name as many!) Silent Hill 2 and Shadow of the Colossus have fucking LEGENDARY soundtracks. What is your favourite Pokémon? Ninetales! I also really love Espeon and Umbreon, too. And Charmander. And Pikachu. And Skitty. And... well, too many, ha ha. What is something your best friend of the opposite sex does that you can’t stand? He calls me "kid" a lot. Is the last book you read a really well-known book? It's not world-famous or anything, but it seems relatively known by teens/young adults. At least, I follow a lot of artists who make fanart for it. Do you have anything besides just songs downloaded on your iPod? No. When at the beach, do you spend more time on the beach or in the ocean? In the water. I hate the beach itself. Do you have any siblings you absolutely despise? Why do you despise them? No. Have you ever babysat before? Did you enjoy this job? Yes, and no, not at all. Have you ever busted a window before? Why did you bust it? No. Do you still get scared watching old horror movies? You watch them alone? Horror movies pretty much never scare me, never mind old cheesy ones. I don't mind watching them alone. Do knives scare you? Is it from watching scary movies? I'm terrified of big knives, and it has nothing to do with movies. It's a fear that started after Mom stopped me from a suicide attempt where I was going to slit my throat with one. They just radiate danger for me. Have you ever tried to sing opera? Did it work out for you or no? No. What was the last piece of furniture you purchased? I've never bought any furniture, and I don't recall the last thing Mom bought. Have you ever broken up with someone for a reason other than lack of feelings (ex. moving away, etc.)? Yeah; we split because we were essentially two shaky towers leaning against one another. We have to learn to straighten ourselves up independently before that relationship even becomes a "maybe" again. Has anyone ever told you that you are too picky when it comes to the people you date? What about not picky enough? Neither. Was there anything unusual or unique about your birth? Nothing really, besides being born in an icestorm. My birth itself was totally normal, as far as I know. Mom considers it pretty extraordinary though because according to her, I took one look at her and smiled so big. Says a lot about our relationship now. What was the best conversation you’ve had recently? *shrug* What is the next book you are going to read? The book that comes next in the series I'm reading. Who was the last person to do something nice for you? My mom does nice things for me every day, like making dinner, letting me live under her roof... a lot of stuff. Is there any artwork in the room you’re in? Yeah, some of my stuff. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yeah. Someone asks you what you want; what do you say? Happiness. Direction. What was the last thing you complained about? Just being incredibly sore. The gym's kicking my ass, but it needs to, so I'm fine with it. How do you feel when you hear other people complaining? It depends on how frequently and about what. It can become overwhelming sometimes, especially if it's over something truly trivial. Has your name been in someone’s Facebook status lately? No. Do you own any Sims games? Which ones? I have the original animals one, as well as the African animals one (which I surprisingly like less). What was your first job? I was a sales associate at GameStop. Do people praise you for your looks? Yeah, definitely not. Do you like your eyes? No. I wish they were bluer and wider. Tell me what your back pack looks like: My last one was a galaxy texture. What celebrity do you think is hot? HMMMMMMMMMMMM I DON'T KNOW????????????? NEVER SEEN ONE IN MY LIFE O: O: O: Last movie you saw in theatre: The The Lion King remake. Has someone you were dating ever cheated on you? No. What’s the cutest thing someone’s ever done for you? I'd rather not dig through the memories to find what I'd consider the "cutest." What was the last thing you heated up in your microwave? A chicken pesto bowl for lunch. Did you ever watch Phil of the Future? Occasionally, but I was never big on it. Do you have an online game that you play often? I play World of Warcraft pretty much daily. Do you prefer regular or electric toothbrushes? Electric. What was the last thing to piss you off? Truly piss me off, I'm not sure. When and where was the last time you took a picture of yourself? Months ago in my room. I want to take a new one to update my Facebook profile pic, because I think I'm ready to return there. Who was the last person to pay you a compliment or praise? The first day at the gym, Mom told me she was extremely proud of me, and it meant a lot. I truly think I can stick to this, and it's a fucking phenomenal feeling. What’s one thought you have regarding the subject of love? It can be the most beautiful thing in the world, yet simultaneously has the capability to be one of the most painful. Do you think that it’s possible to fall in love at a young age like eleven or twelve? Who am I to say, honestly. I lean towards no because at the age of puberty, you're really all over the place with your hormones and emotions, and I just don't know if it's possible for two pre-teens to have the maturity level to grasp what it truly means to be in love with someone. But again, what do I really know? Everyone is different. Are sex and sexual activities something you enjoy? Yeah sure, if it's something I'm in the mood to engage in and I'm in love with the person. What’s an interesting fact about the state in which you were born? We're the home of Pepsi products. I know, of course I would share a fact about soda, ha ha. What’s one aspect of your life that did not turn out as you expected? Where I am now as far as "adult development" goes. I don't drive. I don't have a job. I still live with my mother. I could go on and on... By this point, I definitely expected something much, much different when I was younger. What was the last event to cause you any sort of heartache? Hm. I don't know. What was the worst phase you’ve ever gone through? *shrug* What excuse did you use most often to skip school? There were times I'd pretend to have a really bad cough. I could fake a nasty cough, man. Are you shy about singing in front of people? Very. Honestly, do you put your elbows on the dinner table? Yes, because why the fuck would that matter. I don't get how something so simple and harmless is "bad manners." Have you ever taken a picture in a public bathroom? No. Yes or no: corsets? I. FUCKING. LOVE. CORSETS. UGH I wish I could pull one off, omfg. In your opinion, is money the root of all evil? All evil? No. There are some horrible crimes people can commit that have nothing to do with money. Do you own a pair of overalls? Ew, no. I hate overalls. What is the best game to play while in the car? Uh, idk. Has a movie ever made you jump in fear? I'm sure at some point. Jumpscares are hard to be unfazed by; it's just a natural reaction to something sudden. Yes or no: pickles? Bro I LOVE pickles. Yes or no: strawberry ice cream? Ugh, no. Do you know what your mom’s favorite movie is? No, actually. Are you a role model to anybody? No fucking way I am. Do you know how much you weighed at birth? Somewhere around six or seven pounds. Look outside the nearest window. What can you see? From where I'm at, I can just see the shed. What are you interested in that most people would be surprised to know? Cutesy, pastel stuff, probably. How many bathrooms are in your house? Two. Do you prefer stripes or polka dots? Polka dots. Are you considered a very sensitive person? Very. Have you ever told someone you never wanted to speak to them again? Yes. What’s the weather like today? Is it nice enough to go outside? It's hot as fuck outside. You will NOT see me outside today. What does your last text message say and who is it from? It's just a thumbs up emoji from the woman who works at my psychiatrist's office. She schedules my phone appointments with him. Do you listen to any podcasts? How do you listen to them? No. Why did you leave your last job? It was WAY too fast-paced with lots of responsibilities that I just couldn't handle. Have you ever eaten at a restaurant and left without paying? No, that's awful. What’s your favorite scent of air freshener? Probably something floral and subtle. Are your hands and feet in good condition or could you do with a mani-pedi? Ugh. I pick my fingernails off badly, so they're a mess rn. I also DISDAIN my feet because they are horribly callused from when I used to walk like crazy. It's so weird how I can exfoliate the area and scrub (... and sometimes tear) them off, but they're pretty much immediately back. When was the last time you played a board game? What did you play? A couple years ago with Girt and Sara, I think. We played Scrabble. How old were you when you first became sexually active? Do you mean like, doing anything sexual? In which case that would be 16. I woulda been 16 or 17 when I actually lost my virginity, though. Do you know anyone who has been through a divorce? A load of people. Does anyone not know somebody? Have you ever done a juice cleanse? No. Do you have to pay for parking in most places in the town/city you live in? No. That's a foreign concept here. It's one of the very alien things I experienced in Chicago; I don't really think I knew it was a thing (save for massive attractions, like Disney Word and stuff) before then. Can you hear lots of traffic from your house? Does it bother you? No. We live in a cul-de-sac, and our road is further into it, away from the main road.

[munamania]

the promise (ch. 1)

a/n: hi yes i wrote for the clown gays like a year ago and im deciding to post this now sjdghfg pls be kind

pair: richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak

word count: 8.5k

warnings: swearing, blood ment, homophobic slurs, abuse mentions, psychological trickery, richie’s parents start out a lil absent but they get better i promise

excerpt:   “You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

“I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.” 

“I know.”

read on ao3

 No, it’s not that Richie is gay. It’s not like he daydreams about taking it up the ass all fucking day.

 Henry Bowers and his dipshit crew might have a different opinion, but they can honestly, truly suck his dick (in the non-homo way - he has taste). The fact that they took joy in throwing him and his friends around, calling them names, and threatening their whole lives never mattered before; the losers took care of each other, and most of the time it was easy to forget about those other assholes.

 Being called four-eyes when he needed glasses in the second grade never got to him that bad - they were saving him from having to see their ugly faces when they knocked them off, so really, he should have thanked them - and he didn’t care when they shoved him around for being short before his growth spurt, and it didn’t even bother him that much when they mocked his totally refined voices. He knew his own talent, and what he could do with it if he could just focus.

 But the first time they singled him out as the fag of the group, well, it stung.

 He never told the others about that day. He never told them how long he cried, how broken he felt sobbing on that park bench. He never worked up the nerve to tell them why he couldn’t face Paul Bunyan anymore, no, he simply breezed past without lifting his eyes, without missing a beat of conversation.

 At least it got easier with time.

 All things considered, his home life isn’t terrible.

 Richie has his own room, a roof, and usually a decently-stocked fridge. Enough to get by.

 He’s left alone a lot. His parents are always at work, and when they’re not, they take on the personalities of monotonous robots sitting in front of the TV, so he spends a lot of time skimming through comics or jacking off when he’s not running around with his friends.

 But, that’s just the thing. Somehow, Richie, life of every conversation, King of Comedy, Trashmouth, funny-man Tozier, was born to the most boring people of all time. They never engage with his jokes; on a good day, he receives a breezy, “That’s nice, sweetie,” from his mom, or, “Okay, that’s enough, son,” from his dad. Blank stares. Pasty, purple-tinted white eyes. Never a hug, never much past a ‘goodnight.’ Not even a simple, “How was school?” when they got home.

 Richie vividly remembers the day that he bounced in his seat at the end-of-the-year ceremony at school, a bustling bundle of nerves prepared to brag and boast to his parents about his awards in science and, surprisingly (his teacher hated him) English - he took to the dramatics of Shakespeare quite well. He practiced his entrance to them several times over in his head, perhaps overly, unconvincingly modest or Shakespeare wants what I have. Anything to get a laugh. A ruffle of his hair from his dad. A forehead kiss from his mom, like when he was little.

 They didn’t show. He still doesn’t know where he went wrong.

 In a stark, bubbling contrast to his parents, there’s this kid in his group of friends. He remembers one of the first times they met, the boy approaching him, all sweet apple-cheeked and neat polo and ironed khaki shorts; Richie had flicked an eyebrow upward, a not-so-subtle really?, because he never figured that clean-freak Eddie Kaspbrak would be able to handle more than three seconds in Trashmouth Tozier’s presence.

 But boy, was he a lot of fun.

 Eddie was loud and super easily wound-up, screaming about fucking UTIs and do not fucking push me man all the piss on the walls of this city could fill the lake and despite his good-boy appearance, he shot back with just as much fire as Richie threw at him.

 And fuck, Richie loves it. He loves the ease with which they bounce back and forth. He loves the fury in the boy’s eyes when Richie pisses him off, the laughter that always comes about between them once they settle. The crossing arms and pouting Eddie, who he theorizes secretly loves it when Richie calls him pet names (not that he’d ever admit it); the loud and greatly-gesticulating Eddie who yells louder and pushes harder when Richie coos at him; the one who quietly accepts Richie’s affection, and offers it back in subtle ways: simply holding Richie’s arm when he slings his arms around Eddie’s neck from behind, allowing him to sit next to him thigh-to-thigh, and overall not completely cringing and pushing him off. He took it as a compliment, though they’d never mention it out loud.

 On an unfortunate night, his comfortable little world comes crashing down.

 His parents are out for some sort of conference weekend trip or whatever, and they’ve called in his deadbeat uncle to ‘watch over the house.’ Not necessarily him (probably because he isn’t home that much), but the house obviously can’t stand up by itself—and, well, maybe they didn’t trust Richie to not accidentally leave the door open, or leave the stove on, or some other stupidly irresponsible little thing. So, the crusty old guy shows up with his greasy, oiled hair and his lack of deodorant and his wilting knees. It makes Richie miss Eddie so, so much when they part, because a.) he smells a lot better, and b.) it would be fucking hilarious for him to see what Richie has to put up with. Like, he’s really not the most rodent-like of his family.

 Anyway, Richie doesn’t remember what he says. Something slightly instigative, about the lack of any gourmet-level food in the house (he claimed calmly while wasting away on microwave tater tots and bread, even though his parents had left behind plenty of money to keep him alive), and then suddenly hands were on him.

 It stings like a bitch.

 His uncle gets up, with a quiet mumble that Richie makes out to be, “Well, let’s see…” and when he finally gets in the kitchen, facing Richie with eyes rung red and shaking fists, he grabs his nephew by a fistful of t-shirt and shoves him against the counter.

 At that moment, he really wants his mom. Why the fuck did she and dad leave him with this guy?

 “I don’t see you fucking working, or doing much of anything around here, kiddo.”

 “Funny, I was gonna say the same to you.”

 A blow to his mouth. Richie resists the urge to lift trembling fingers to the spot that he can feel swelling.

 “Don’t talk to me like that, asshole! You think you’re so fucking funny, huh?” His uncle drags him forward and shoves him back with conviction, and this time Richie doesn’t answer.

 He should have known to stay quiet when he saw his uncle drinking and smoking incessantly in the house, even though his mother had requested that he stay outside for that. It must have been a rough day at the bar, or wherever the fuck he spent his time.

 “You need to learn when to be quiet, dipshit. Have some fucking respect.”

 For the guy who ignored him for years, didn’t stay in touch, and wasted his existence away on the couch.

 Right.

 But Richie is snapped from his indignant, grounding thoughts when his uncle lowers his voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

 Richie frowns in his face, utterly confused from the swell of attention, still limply holding a bag of bread in his left hand.

 “Do I make myself clear?”

 “Y-yes sir.”

 The wretched man makes a point to push him into the corner of the cupboards with such a force that he collapses to his knees and can just feel the bruises forming. And he sits there for a minute, all sorts of betrayal and anger and sadness suffocating him.

 But he stands up.

 And with stinging eyes, a stuffy nose, and shaking hands, he makes himself a simple peanut butter sandwich.

 And he stays upstairs for the remainder of the night

 It’s a warm, soothing day outside; the sun glows and birds are chirping like some kind of fucking cartoon. In the tall grass the losers sit in frogs croak and crickets chirp and they make a mess of themselves in the circle they form.

 “Damn, Rich, what happened to you?” comes Stan’s voice, concerned eyes flashing down to his now royally fucked-up mouth.

 “Yeah, dude, what the fuck?” says Bev through a sandwich, truly a charmer.

 Richie grins at Bev but answers to Stan, ignoring the sting in the corner of his lips. “Guess I’m a fighter at heart.”

 “Richie—“

 Bev chimes in once again, a bright, snarky grin on her face, “Richie, you can tell us if it was another accident, we won’t judge. Promise.”

 Bev has a way about her; he knows she’s not genuinely the largest, most gaping asshole on earth, and that she actually cared a lot and cried over her friends in the darkest nights, but she also knew how to make light of something dark (even the worst). She probably knew. She probably just had his back in her own funny way, like taking the pressure off the reality.

 “Bev, I’ve really, truly, always appreciated your charm, but as my dearest favorite person on earth, fuck off.”

 “Richie,” Bill says, then hesitates. In that time, Bev flips Richie the bird, which he answers with an air kiss. “What really h-ah-happened?” He looks him over with a frown, clear blue eyes swallowing him in concern and maybe love.

 Richie offers a simple smirk before settling against the trunk of a tree. “Don’t worry about it, Billiam. I’ve got it under control.”

 “Whatever you say,” Bev says. She tosses a baggie over to him with his favorite sandwich.

 Stan isn’t so easily convinced, eyeing Richie up carefully, but he sits with Bev on the boulder she’s settled on when Richie doesn’t falter in his casual disposition.

 It takes a lot of work, as always.

 Ben shows up moments later, with a calm and tender, “You alright, Rich?” and when Richie goes off on a stupid tough-guy spiel, he simply lays at the foot of the boulder and flicks open a book, meeting Richie with one of his melting smiles, a gentle invitation, a sweet If you ever need it, I’m there, but allowing him the space to go on as normal. Which is nice.

 Richie knows they all care. He knows he could tell them, could pour all of the terror and tragedy he felt the night before into the air and they’d fill up the space; Mike would give him the tightest hug in the world, one to combat the most heinous of things; Stan would sit with him as long as he needed it, Bev would come through with a smoke and the best advice in the world, and Ben would tell him stories or just hang out with him until everything felt a bit lighter, and Bill would give him anything in the world because Richie would do it back. That’s the way they were.

 But he can’t do it.

 “Sorry I’m late guys,” comes a nasally voice, huffing and puffing, new pressure leaning against the tree, and Richie grins. Eddie.

 “It’s okay, Eds,” he says, reaching over a few fingers to tickle Eddie’s knee, giggling when the boy smacks at his hand and doubles over with an exclamatory, Richie!  

 The others offer a few sleepy greetings, all soaked up in their own forms of entertainment for the quiet afternoon: Bev and Ben, heads close enough to share his walkman; Stan, reading some lengthy oath to birds or something; Mike snoozing lightly on Bill’s shoulder while Bill pores over some adventure map from a fantasy novel.

 They had all agreed that it was too tiresome to go swimming today, as the previous night was spent out at Stan’s with a bonfire, and for a few of them, some stolen booze (not very much, but enough that they could pretend to be drunk and giggle profusely). But they still wanted to hang out, so this was the middle ground. An afternoon picnic in the shade.

 Eddie quickly notices his lip and drops down to his side. “Richie, what happened to you? Was it Bowers again? I swear to god, I will fucking kill that guy--”

 Richie smiles softly at the protective words, and tries to turn it into a smirk. “Eddie, baby, don’t worry,” he says. “It’s just a little bump.”

 Surprisingly, Eddie sidles up next to him, using the pad of his thumb to press at the sides of Richie’s mouth, apparently assessing some sort of damage. “Don’t call me that.” He scowls. “What did you do? Did you ice it? Clean this cut at all? Cause you could get an infection, you know, you really should clean it.”

 Richie bats his eyes. “Clean it for me, sweets?”

 “Fuck off. Forget I cared.”

 “Ah, come on, Spaghettio. I didn’t mean it.” He pulls Eddie down with a simple gesture, pressing his palm to the boy’s shoulder and dragging. The boy rests against the trunk, nestled in Richie’s side.

 But that’s the complicated thing. He sorta wishes he could mean it. In a small, poking-at-the-back-of-his-head-always kind of way.

 “Just—tell me what happened,” Eddie pipes up quietly from his side.

 When Richie glances down, he takes to heart how disgruntled Eddie still looks, crossing his arms and almost pouting.

 He shrugs. “Your mother was simply affronted by how good I am with my mouth, Eds, she couldn’t take it anymore.”

 Eddie presses his mouth into a line, rolls his eyes at the stupid British voice Richie had developed, and busies himself with a thrilling edition of The Lancet

 Later, as dusk settles in and pale purple skies replace the bright blue, and the club leaves with simple ‘goodbye’s and promises to do something fun tomorrow, Eddie shifts from his nap. He’d passed out with his head slammed back against Richie’s arm (he’d caught it just before he fell to the ground, avoiding a lengthy rant about potential concussions and medical bills), curled in the opposite direction from Richie’s abdomen. As he wakes, through, he rolls over, elbow digging into Richie’s side.

 “Ah-ow,” Richie groans, sitting up from his cataconic state of reading Ben’s stolen comics and avoiding moving and waking Eddie. But he’d just dug the pointiest part of his entire firecracker body into Richie’s ribs, where Richie had attempted and failed to nurse a bruise he’d accrued from a vicious cupboard corner. It was at an awkward angle, and he refused to go down to get more ice packs once they melted, so he slept unsoundly and laid uncomfortably.

 “Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, voice muddled with sleep. “Shit, it’s late. When did I fall asleep? My mom’s gonna kill me.”

 Even in that gurgly, world upside-down state of post-nap consciousness, the boy freaks out about his mother. Richie sighs and rubs his shoulder.

 “You’re all good, Eddie boy,” he attempts for a creaky, witchy voice, but it’s half-assed because he gets so tired of this lady. Not Eddie ranting, that was fine, and he knew the kid needed to get it out of his system; but he was fucking tired of Mrs. K hurting his boy. “You took your meds on time, fell asleep shortly after. Might need to amputate my arm now, though.”

His boy.

 Eddie sits up, and Richie stares at his back, illuminated in the dusk, because he wore a fun yellow today, resting prettily against his tanned, freckled skin.

 (Maybe Richie had looked over, amused, for a few moments, as Eddie snored and twitched his nose in his sleep; and he counted the freckles on Eddie’s arm, his cheek, whatever he could see for entertainment.)

 Eddie glances back at him, and Richie distracts himself with his bag, shifting his eyes awkwardly from the boy’s gaze.

 “Well, well, good sir, shall I walk you home on this fine night?”

 Eddie’s brow furrows. “Richie, what’s that?”

 His eyes are trained intently on the aforementioned bruise, and its cousins that pepper his hips, only exposed because he slipped and let his shirt ride up when he bent over.

 He clears his throat, scrambling for some dumbass answer, wholeheartedly unprepared for the severity of this conversation. “You know how the ladies throw themselves—“

 “Okay, you know what, fine.” Eddie stands quickly, stumbling slightly, and braces himself against the tree. “You don't have to fucking tell me. Just come home with me, okay?”

 “A night with Eddie Kaspbrak? Why, you’re really a dream-come-true kind of guy.”

 “Your lip is bleeding again,” he responds simply, apparently not one for      fun    at this very moment. “I can clean it.”

 Richie pops up from the ground, feeling quite pip pip, tally ho about the whole thing. “Righty-o, Eddie boy.

 That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of Eddie’s porcelain-white bathtub, dirtying it with his messy jeans and dirt-coated nails.

 It takes a lot of strategic planning, lots of sneaking past Mrs. K, and then sweet-talking and kisses from Eddie once she wakes up freaking out about how late he was. But, after about fifteen minutes of contest-worthy screeching from the woman, Eddie stomps up the stairs, slams the door with a very I’m gonna pull my hair out look, and has to take about three extra minutes to compose himself, ranting under his breath.

 Richie just stares at his distorted reflection in the shining silvery faucet, the violet under his eyes and the renewed puffiness of his lip, Hawaiian pattern of his shirt disheveled in the odd mirror.

 He knows not to engage unless Eddie actually speaks up to him, meaning this run-in was probably just overly grating and mentally draining, considering, well, how his mother is. He just needs a second to get it out, not any kind of heartfelt talk (which Richie sucks at anyway) or even a lighthearted joke. The boy paces and growls into a fist. Then, eventually, he breathes, “Okay.”

 Eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes of sitting around and waiting for Eddie, just for him to kneel in front of Richie, doe eyes clear and focused, dabbing so, so gently at his battered lip.

 In a way, it’s heaven.

 “I take it your mom can’t wait for me to buy dinner, eh?”

 Eddie sighs. “Apparently this time I’m gonna contract malaria, Rich, didn’t you know? There’s an incredible outbreak this time of year and I’m obviously not prepared to avoid fucking mosquitoes, what with my fifteen bottles of bug spray and essential oils. I’ll probably die tomorrow!”

 “I will make sure that your funeral is a fucking rager dude, don’t you worry. Booze on me.”

 A ghost of a smile.

 “Richie…” he breathes out in a long winded way, saying nothing and everything for way too long. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

 Richie raises an eyebrow. “Man, I thought you were gonna back out on your previous offer, but I guess the call for a night with Richie Tozier is too much to back away from. I get it.” He smiles painfully at the way Eddie’s face crumples with something like boredom. “Christ, dude, what’s your poison?” He makes a face at the antiseptic substance that trickles into his mouth.

 “Maybe if you kept your mouth shut for once, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

 Richie beams, which just causes Eddie to huff even more.

 “Please, just stay still!

 “It was my uncle,” Richie finally says, forcing a bored expression onto his face as he flips through a rather dull magazine, sprawled on Eddie’s bed. “And it wasn’t a big deal.”

 Panic flashes across Eddie’s face. His cheeks burn red, and his leg jitters anxiously against Richie’s, but his voice remains level, which Richie thanks dear lordy Jesus for. “Your uncle? He hit you?”

 “Well,” Richie pauses. “Uh, kinda. He was just really drunk, Eds, and he got mad and I was in the way.”

 “In the way?”

 He shrugs, a small smile quirking his lip up. “Am I not usually?”

 “Rich.” Eddie’s voice is really soft in that moment, gentler and quieter than anything Richie has heard from him in all the time he’s known his fellow loudmouth. It simultaneously terrifies and thrills him. Eds. Eddie brings his knees to his chest, leaning back against the headboard. “You say a lot of dumb shit, but that doesn’t mean you should be hurt.” He must notice Richie’s uncomfortable look, because he adds lightly, “Most of the time, anyway.”

 “Woah, Eddie, don’t go overboard with the kindness or anything--”

 “Damn it, Richie.” He casts his eyes downward. “I’m just trying to say - um - thanks for telling me. Sorry if that’s fucked up to say, but I know you didn’t want to, so, yeah. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

 Richie swallows deeply with a slow nod, focusing his eyes on the blurry words in front of him. “Well, if there’s anyone I’d tell, it’s Dr. K. He’s gonna be the one to save my life, right?”

 Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right.” He kicks at Richie’s foot, a subtle way of telling him to move over so he can get under the covers.

 “Night, toots.”

 “Goodnight, Richie.

 Richie thinks he knows everything possible about Eddie thus far.

 He knows when he needs to take his meds, an internal clock he recently developed; he knows that the boy is not nearly as fragile as he sometimes seems, and if he really tried, he could pack a punch; he knows that he loves fervently and he’ll always take care of his friends, even if it’s in a way that would usually disgust him.

 Case in point: he didn’t seem to freak out at Richie’s bleeding lip, even when a steady stream of blood started dripping down his chin from the contact of trying to clean it out, though he usually cringed if he got so much as a scratch from a twig. Somehow, some way, he simply held pressure on the wound and told Richie to hold some ice on it (“Ordering me around now, hot stuff? I can work with that,”), and washed his own hands thoroughly in the sink.

 What he doesn’t know until that night, is that Eddie is a cuddler. At least, half-asleep, groggy Eddie is. Like, this kid must be more starved for affection than he is. Richie had curled himself in a ball toward the edge of the mattress, willing himself not to do so much as even press his back against Eddie’s, way too afraid of the ease with which two people can tangle themselves together in the night, terrified of what would happen if he woke up with Eddie’s hands on him, wrapped up in Eddie, Eddie’s terrible morning breath against his cheek, Eddie Eddie Eddie. But while Richie had stressed himself into falling halfway off the bed, Eddie had flopped over in his sleep, slung an arm across Richie’s waist and, seeming to sense that he had something to hold, pulled him in tight to his chest. Though Richie’s breath caught in his throat, he figured, well, no one could really see them then, so what was the harm in passing out like that? No one had to know. He could pass it off like he’d been sleeping the whole time.

 But he cherishes every fucking minute of it

 Richie wakes to the sound of something pounding, a steady beat, and in that state of slowly waking from a dream he thinks it’s some old drum, playing lowly in the corner by some restless figure. When he comes to, his eyes creaking open slowly, he sees the gentle orange-ish hue of the morning sky, the neat room around him, the scent of detergent and soothing fabric softener wafting near his face. And he realizes his head is tucked into Eddie’s side, the boy’s slowed heartbeat thumping softly against his ear.

 Normally, he’d just let Eddie sleep, as he’s usually only the asshole waking everyone up when it’s the whole gang. He doesn’t mind spending a few hours by himself in the morning. In fact, he enjoys the opportunity to try to fall back asleep (even though he never does).

 But with a sudden impulse, he lays a palm on Eddie’s ribcage and pushes himself up onto his elbows, then shakes the boy.

 “Eddie.”

 A muffled, “Mmph?”

 “Eds, wake up.”

 The boy drags a pillow over his ears for all of two seconds before Richie tickles his stomach. Then he crankily sits up and lets out a gruff, “What?”

 Richie grins. “The sunrise, Eds! Look, it’s so pretty, you have to believe me.”

 Eddie responds by laying his cheek on Richie’s shoulder blade, slumping forward with his eyes still closed. “You do know,” he breathes, “that if the sun is just rising, it’s like, six a.m.?”

 “Hmm, 5:49, but close enough, I suppose.”

 The most huffy breath that Eddie can manage at this hour tickles the hairs on the back of Richie’s neck. “Did you know that people who don’t sleep enough die a lot younger? There are serious health consequences.” It doesn’t come out in his usual fiery, punctuated tone; it’s soft and filled with a yawn and he’s pretty sure Eddie might fall back asleep just like that. “You can’t die early on me, Richie. And I don’t want to. Go back to sleep.” He peeks one eye open at the window, squinting at the glow of the sun. “It is pretty, though.” With that, he falls back against the pillow and curls into a ball against the wall.

 And Richie’s pretty damn sure in that moment that he’s, like, in love

 And, sure, that’s terrifying.

 He has no one to talk to about it and nothing could convince him it’s normal, so he shrugs it off and pretends it isn’t there.

 Cause that’s a good way to cope, right?

 It doesn’t matter that Eddie is so easily comfortable with him—he’s a low-pressure person, is all. And no one had called out the way pet names rolled off Richie’s tongue so easily, because that was just a part of his joke. Normal. Easy.

 Until it wasn’t

 You see, there’s this bitch Pennywise. This idiot clown terrorizes his friends, kills people, haunts their nights and days, and fucks with their minds. Tries to turn them against each other. And they can’t even throw a jest back! It’s a sick system.

 Well, anyway, the losers end up in some crickety, wooden, falling-apart-at-the-seams murder house on Neibolt, because Bill wants to find his brother and none of them are willing to abandon him. Instead, Richie gets to see himself dead, face off with a monstrous fucking clown, and hear heart-wrenching screams from Eddie that he can’t even help, because he can’t get out.

 When he does, he reunites with Stan and Bill, using the few seconds he has to catch his breath.

 Just as quickly, he loses it.

 In front of him lies Eddie, arm twisted at the ugliest, most heinous angle, and not only is he probably in pain and freaking out about the arm, but a 7-foot tall clown is sauntering towards him with a stupid swaggering gait, like it knows that they can’t do anything to save Eddie.

Eddie.

 The boy cowers against dust and fallen wood that must be itching to give him splinters; tears streak down his dirty face and his chest rises and falls rapidly, as Pennywise taunts him. Fucking horses around, making stupid noises and joking while Eddie falls apart, and Richie doesn’t know how to save him, even after everything Eddie’s done for him. Richie is vaguely aware of Stan grasping his shoulder, trying to ground him, and he silently thanks him as he glances around for fucking anything to use as a weapon, because he certainly can’t jump into this blindly--

 Then Beverly busts into the room and stabs the bitch in the head, and Richie can’t think but his feet are moving and he lands in front of Eddie in the few seconds’ time he has to play catch-up. He reminds himself to remind Bev of just how much he loves her later.

 For now, though, his focus is Eddie. His ears are ringing and he’s noted the commotion going on behind him, he even realizes that Bill ends up at his side, but his gaze is right on his Eds, grasping at his face, trying to do anything to help him.

 “Eds. No, no, no! Look at me! It’s okay. Please be okay.” He steadies his voice and tries really hard not to think about how much he sucks as a caretaker, how he has no fucking clue what to do, but he’s scared and he desperately just wants to take Eddie from the room and keep him safe, forever and ever.

 Terror-filled eyes find him as the clown continues toward the three of them, flexing horrendous claws; Richie kneels in front of Eddie and Bill’s at his back, and Richie knows Eddie acknowledges him but he’s whimpering and shaking and staring back at the clown. And Pennywise is thriving.

 “Eds,” he says, louder, grabbing Eddie’s chin and forcing it in his direction. “Please just - fuck the clown, okay? Fuck everything. It’s me and you. I’ve got you.” And he’d probably be much more convincing if he weren’t shouting and clinging to Eddie’s shoulders like it means death.

But, he seems to capture the boy’s attention, as he keeps his eyes steadily on Richie and blinks a few times. “My arm!” he cries. “Fuck, I can’t fucking move. I’m gonna die. It hurts, Rich.”

 “Hey, you’re not gonna die. I don’t die early on you, you don’t die early on me. That’s the deal.”

 “Some deals are made to be broken.”

 Eddie is just staring at him, blank eyes staring through him with a grin, a stark contrast to the screaming that was going on just moments before. A surge of panic rises in Richie’s chest, like a freezing wind knocking through his stupid little preteen body. He shakes his head in confusion.

 “Eddie, shut up. It’s just your arm. You’re gonna be fine!”

 A shrug. “Who’s to say?” And then he sits up, arm convulsing at his side like some dying snake, and Richie flinches and flies back into Bill’s chest. He can’t do this. He can’t help Eddie like he should, he can’t take care of him like he wants to. He’s a coward.

 “Rich.” Bill is a million miles away.

 Right here, right now, is that thing in Eddie’s place, body rattling like a rag doll. “They’ll find out.” Eddie’s voice is fucked up, scratchy, and his eyes are all wrong; the way he’s staring at him is fucking uncanny. “Get too touchy, Rich, and you know what’ll happen.”

 “Stop, please, fucking stop!”

 “Richie!” Bill is finally right there, shaking both of his shoulders from behind. “S-stop. You’re f-f-fine. It’s just fucking with your head.”

 It takes a few deep breaths, but Richie turns to him and says a quick, ‘Thanks,’ before turning back to real-Eddie, who is now dry-heaving and wailing at the sight of his arm.

 Eddie’s chest thrusts forward and back rapidly, and he keeps trying to back further from the bedlam in front of them. His face contorts into an absolutely heart-wrenching cry, and as he looks at Richie, gripping his hand with an iron fist, Richie’s heart splits in two. It’s hard, it’s way too hard not to say I love you, after all that. And it’s hard not to run.

 “I don’t wanna die - ”

 Richie crawls closer to cradle Eddie’s head. “Eddie, if you die I’ll kill you.” He wants to go home, he wants to cry, he wants to sleep for about three days and pretend this never happened. But he can’t. He has to be here for Eddie, as much as he wants to flee right now. “You’re not going to, you know that? I still owe you ice cream. And I’m gonna get you inside the arcade—“

 “Fuck the arcade!”

 Somehow, in all of the fuckery going on, Richie laughs. “That’s the spirit!” Eddie, in a scramble to back away from the startle of Pennywise running away, shifts into Richie’s lap. “Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Richie gulps down a breath himself. “I’m gonna snap your arm back into place.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, completely on fire, spitting poison at Richie. “Rich! Do not fucking touch me!”

 Richie winces at the words but he hears Bev screaming, “Richie, his arm!” and uses the moment of yelling to just do it, to get Eddie’s arm back to a relatively normal shape, and then he’s screaming and it’s like he wants Richie to cry in front of everyone.

 “Okay okay okay, it’s done. No more.” Richie, awkward and lost at what to do, brushes back sweaty hair from Eddie’s forehead, because he’s pretty sure the boy would hate how sticky everything had gotten, and if he could help even one thing, well, it’s something.

 He wishes he could help carry Eddie home, sit with him in the hospital, anything to cheer him up.

 But he doesn’t get the chance. Mrs. K is outside and snatches Eddie from the losers in the flash of an eye, talking like they broke his fucking arm or something.

 That’s when it all goes downhill

 Richie storms away from his stupid feud with Bill, the fucking dumbass who punched him in the face because he said he didn’t want a clown to kill him and his friends. He thinks it’s the most reasonable thing he’s ever said, objectively, but whatever. He doesn’t want to lose his friends. But in that moment, he doesn’t see many other options.

 When he trudges back home after his third day alone at the arcade, following newly-formed muscle memory to avoid his uncle (close the door slowly, shift weight and run upstairs, wait at least twenty minutes to go back down for food in case he stirs), he notices another car. Immediately, Richie throws open the doors, calling out, “Mom!” and finds her in the kitchen, with his uncle.

 “Hey sweetie, I just got home—“ she startles at the sight of him.

 “Jeez, that bad?” he jokes, running a hand through his hair. “Just remember, mom, half of this is ‘cause of you.”

 She approaches him quickly, summer blazer flowing behind her from the speed, and crouches down just slightly to be at eye-level. “Richie, honey, what did you do to your lip?” she asks. He doesn’t realize right away, but he tilts his head into her touch, and she strokes his cheek gently.

 Richie had forgotten about the whole ordeal—his friends almost dying at the hands of a killer clown was pretty damn distracting from his low-life uncle—but now, he sets a spitting glare on the man leaning back and manspreading at their kitchen table.

 “Uncle Alan had a few kind words to say over dinner the other night.”

 Her tender touch to his face is lost when she whips around to face his uncle, and Richie feels like a little kid again, standing behind his mom and clutching at her coat while she takes care of everything.

 “You hit him?” she says, her voice threatening in a low mumble, teeth clenched together. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You touched my kid?” She holds back a hand as though to shield Richie as she slams her other fist on the table.

 “How do you know it wasn’t one of his faggy friends? Or maybe some other kid with common fucking sense?”

 She leans down and takes him by the front of his shirt. “Don’t you dare, Alan. What the fuck were you thinking?”

 Uncle Alan yells back in her face, spit flying, and Richie would jump forward to defend her if she weren’t holding him back so protectively (with one hand!). “Listen, Maggie, if he’s gonna act like that, I’m just preparing him for the real world.”

 “You absolute shit! You don’t get to make that decision!” Richie has never, ever seen his mother so angry. “You battered a twelve year old boy! What, do you feel really big now, you pathetic piece of shit? Get the fuck out of my house!” At this point, she’s shaken him and thrown him back against the chair so he falls, catching himself just in time as it cascades to the ground.

 “Fuck you, Maggie!”

 She follows him down the hall.

 “Fuck you!” Richie calls out at his retreating back, before his mother screams about pressing charges and slams the door behind him.

 Richie’s mom rushes back into the kitchen to face him. She’s red in the face, eyes on fire, but she softens at the sight of him.

 “Richie, sweetheart, I’m sorry we left you.” She cradles his face again. “Hey.” She holds him with both hands. “Listen. If anyone ever hurts you, you call me. If anyone ever so much as threatens you, Rich - ”

 Richie, choked up, interjects, “I didn’t know the number, mom. I don’t know where the little paper you wrote it on is, I’m sorry—“

 “It’s okay.” She looks at him for a few more moments, then swaddles him up in a big, mama bear hug. “I love you, kid. I hope you know that.”

 “I love you too.”

 For a few minutes, she just holds him, stroking his back while silent tears fall down his face and onto the chest of her shirt. She doesn’t seem to mind

 It’s late. Richie doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s on top of the world.

 He ends up at Eddie’s house, even though he knows they’re not talking and Eddie’s mom might kill him on sight, he has to see him. Mrs. K can go fuck herself.

 Outside the boy’s bedroom window, he raps quietly with his knuckles, just about buzzing with a high, high feeling toward life. He can see Eddie lying in bed, struggling to prop up a book to read, lamplight cascading onto his skin - that is, until he hears Richie, and flies toward the window with a crazed look.

 “What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, brows knitting together. “My mom will kill you if she hears you.”

 That doesn’t matter so much to him at that moment. “Eddie!” He swings his legs over the banister and jumps into the room, adrenaline and something like love pushing him to lift Eddie to his chest and spin. “Eds, my mom came home early and she kicked that motherfucker out of my house!”

 Eddie’s eyes are crazed from the spinning and he clings to Richie’s shoulder with his good hand; and he grins, a giggle caught in his lips. “That’s great, Richie. Fuck that guy.”

 “Yeah, fuck him! And god Eddie, she - she protected me, and we just spent hours together, watching movies and making dinner like old times, and it was amazing, and - god, I know I sound like a dork, but I - ”

 He pauses, mostly because he’s out of breath from machine-gunning a paragraph out of nowhere; but also because in his flustered state he didn’t register the sweet-cheeked smile that Eddie is currently melting him with.

 But when he does, Richie thinks to himself: sure, blue eyes are great; they can be compared to the sky or the ocean or whatever other cheesy nature bit all goddamn day. But Eddie’s eyes - hell, he doesn’t care if he sounds like a cornball - they’re fucking amazing. They usurp all of that bullshit. He’s used to them when they’re blown wide in surprise, or holding him in a steely glare for some dumb joke, and he loves them then; but right now he catches a kind of tenderness hidden in the dark. Something that envelops him in warmth and pinks his cheeks.

 Eddie takes the opportunity to pipe up. “Richie,” he says, “I’m really happy for you.”

 He means it. Richie knows he means it, because for the last several days, he’s heard Eddie mumbling to himself somewhat privately about ‘that piece of shit,’ and right now he’s clutching Richie’s sleeve and smiling without a trace of mockery.

 And he’s perfect.

 His tousled hair that’s rustled from what looks to have been a constant stream of fingers, stressed over the book or his mom or god-knows-what; the oversized t-shirt he’s drowning in and short shorts and perfectly matched socks; and those shining eyes and friendly smile and soft fucking hands that hold all the electricity of Richie’s excitement - all perfect.

 And Richie, Richie could just kiss him.

 He doesn’t.

 Mrs. K knocks at the door.

 “Eddie bear, it’s time for your nighttime oils!”

 Richie cracks a wise-ass smile. “Eddie bear, if I’d known you needed      nighttime oils, well, I would have come prepared.”

 “Get the fuck out,” Eddie says. The laughter catching on his lips tells another story.

 Richie throws an utterly charming wink in his direction and crouches in the window, preparing to jump out and make his escape.

 “Wait!” Eddie grabs the back of Richie’s t-shirt. “It’s cool that you stopped by. It’s - it’s been lonely in this hellhole. I might have gone insane if I thought you guys forgot about me.”

 “Aw, I’d never forget you, cutie.” Richie, stomach twisting and turning, supports himself with his forearm on the outside of the window. “And, anyway, I gotta practice my Romeo somewhere, right?”

 Eddie lets out a characteristic huff. “Whatever.”

 It’s quiet, save for the distant tweeting crickets, and the scent wafting through the nighttime is intoxicating, and for the following moments the world reminds them to just breathe.

 “You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

 “I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.”

 “I know.” He smiles. “I’ll see you, Tozier.”

 Richie, without any reservations (until he thinks back on it later), reaches out as though to pinch Eddie’s cheek, but instead, runs his thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone. “See ya, Eds.” He smiles. “I’m gonna get you out of here someday.”

 Eddie shakes his head as Richie takes his hand away from Eddie’s newly red cheeks and makes his way back to the ground, muttering, “My hero.”

 And Richie looks back with a grin at the silhouette of the dork in the window, saluting before taking off

 It sucks when Beverly leaves.

 It’s an early morning, red and orange hues breaking across the skyline like a cracked egg, and Richie, Stan, and Ben all gather around to watch her disappear off to the nearest airport, and then disappear from them forever. Though it’s not nearly as mopey and depressing as it could have been, it’s hard to watch her go; a warm energy follows her as she hugs them all goodbye, looking at them with her all-knowing, crooked little smile, rolling her eyes but expressing more love than any of them had ever known, and Richie knows she means every word of loving and missing that she says. And he knows he’ll miss her more than anything.

 He does. Not much helps with the pain of missing someone, but as the days go by, pieces of her slowly slip from his mind, until finally she’s all gone

 New Years offers promises of ‘new me’s and resolutions and maybe some kind of peace. And considering everything, it’s the saving grace Richie thinks he needs.

 A chance to forget his uncle, the murderous clown that haunts his dreams, and his personal revelation that he loves Eddie Kaspbrak.

 It didn’t ruin their friendship by any means, just made his cheeks flush and heart throb and his rebuttals come back stutter-y when Eddie merely smiled at him. It was stupid textbook puppy love. He never thought he’d fall for that.

 And, he’s not gay. He can’t be, or he’ll have to pay the price.

 It's just that Eddie is his best friend. They’re all best friends, but Eddie never really stopped engaging with his exhausting jokes like the others, when it was finally too much. Eddie always bickered back, he took the bait and bit back. Eddie took him home when he got hurt and cared for him and then went right back to fighting.

 He loves Eddie the way he should love someone like Bev.

 But it’s nothing.

 The night is cutting, crisp with a fresh wintery bitterness, biting at Richie’s nose until it’s practically bleeding. To be fair, he’d opted to only wear one of his lighter jackets and some gloves, so it’s his own fault that his scalp is freezing over and he’s shaking on his way to the loser’s little spot in the meadow.

 At least his friends are smart.

 Stan sports a matching tartan hat and scarf, bundled up around his face so only the pinkish tip of his nose is poking out; Bill has a nice puffy coat and a hat with a bauble rested atop his head; Ben’s ushanka hat is wrapped tightly under his chin, and he waves at Richie with mittens keeping his hands warm; Mike is representing a lot of fleece, and he grins at Richie, shaking his head when he sees his lack of winter clothes; and then there’s Eddie, wearing a coat that has to be at least an extra large, and a knitted cap, bundled up so only his fussy eyes and nose are squinting out at Richie.

 In Richie’s defense, he was running late, and he had sprouted a little bit in the last few months, so his previously comfortable winter coat was now tight and painful in the shoulders and chest. This jacket was his best option in the 30-second long window he had to get dressed and run out the door to attempt to be on time.

 Stan levels a look at him, thoroughly appreciating his idiocy, and obviously not pitying his shaking form more than a quick flash of sympathy in his eyes; he cares, but Richie obviously brought this upon himself. The ensuing cold would be his own fault, and he’d call Stan to complain, just to grin quietly as the boy went on the calmest rant about how stupid he is and then hang up. It’s just how they worked.

 Richie wonders if he’d tell a potential partner that they should have brought a coat to a date if they complained of the temperature. It’s beside the point, but amusing.

 “C’mon man, you didn’t think about a scarf at least?” Mike says as a greeting, laughing a little bit as he removes his own and wraps it messily around Richie’s neck. In that moment, Richie would give up his life for this kid. The body heat/fleece combo immediately brings him back from the brink of a nosebleed.

 “Richie doesn’t think, period.” Stan sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at him, ghosts of amusement playing on his cheeks.

 Richie flashes his teeth in a big ol’ grin. “That’s pretty accurate, actually, I just wanted to be with you guys on time so badly, you know.”

 Bill lets out a small, unenthused, “Aww.”

 Richie simply chuckles and tries to wrap his fingers in Mike’s scarf to help with the inevitable hypothermia. Eddie winds up next to him in their gathering, sucking in a big breath through his nostrils and huffing out shortly.

 He bumps Eddie’s arm with his elbow and says, “What’s up with you, Eds?”

 Eddie nearly topples over from the size of the coat weighing him down, and he curses under his breath before standing back up and glaring at Richie. “You really didn’t wear a bigger coat, dumbass?”

 “As you can see, no,” Richie chuckles.

 Eddie presses his tongue into his cheek. “Well, you can share mine. It’s more than big enough.”

 Oh.

 Right, sharing a coat. That’s fine. No pressure or anything.

 Richie aims for a cool response, some funny voice or smooth and subtle, and lands on, “Yeah, cool. Thanks.”

 So, they share. And it’s pretty great.

 Eddie unzips it and pulls Richie in, and they collaborate to pull it up and then Richie is pressed up against Eddie’s side, in public, already sweating even though he’s still cold because he doesn’t know if he can handle this.

 Fortunately, they’re hidden by the dark, so maybe the boy or their friends won’t notice his red cheeks (or they’ll chalk it up to the cold) and the extra focus he has to place on acting normal. Because Eddie smells nicer than most boys their age, and he’s got a heart too big for his body, and Richie’s sure that Eddie loves him back in at least some way. It’s not just anyone that would get to be this close, squeezed into a coat with him.

 Richie feels sick.

 But the fireworks are starting, and they might be sparse and lackluster in the hell that is Derry, but each loser looks to the sky with love, with appreciation, in awe of the fact that something beautiful can apparently come from hell.

 Barely, just barely, Eddie’s head falls against Richie’s shoulder as they gaze up into the inky black sky illuminated by cakes of fireworks, and he whispers, “Wow,” under his breath right next to Richie’s ear, and now Richie’s contemplating between the two possible causes of his death: he combusts, or he stops breathing - to be determined.

 Richie begs the universe for advice in the ultimate predicament. And to his great relief, memories seep back into his brain; those of freckled cheeks, teeth balancing a cig as a mouth talks, and bundles of ginger curls bouncing as her head turns in his direction.

 “Bev would love this.”

 Riche catches the way Ben looks over at him pretty much immediately - at them, sharing body heat in Eddie’s coat - and then how the boy stares at the ground and mumbles a soft, “Yeah.” He looks back at Richie, holds his eye contact for a sweet, lingering moment, then gazes back at the sky, hopefully thinking of love as much as Richie is.

 Bill, Mike, and Stan all follow, tearing their eyes away briefly to make quick eye contact with each other, and then Richie, and Eddie even shifts to look up at him, and they all smile wistfully as though the girl is there with them, snarky remarks and toothy smiles keeping them all afloat. Richie feels like he’s going to break open and cry enough to fill the whole universe, so he sniffles and looks back up at the sky, breaking the moment of magic.

 But it remains with them.

 It remains as they share this together, as they enter the new year together, promising hope for a happier future as long as they stick with each other.

 And it remains as Eddie Kaspbrak takes his hand under the coat and murmurs, “Happy new year, Richie.”

[blueboltkatana]

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

GUrll ur so sexy... Like you're Hot. I don't care if you were bullied in school, you're sexy, they lied.

Also bitch I KNEW i related to you too much our ascendants are both in leo we're so hot.

Ok ok no now I'll stop complimenting and start with the roasting here we go:

So the sun is your sense of "self" it represents you on the more base level i guess you could say, like what most people think you're like is represented by your sun. With Sagittarius being your sun it means you're very energetic Especially for those things you are passionate about, you might have gone through a LOT of hobbies, only a few of them stuck around but you like to try things. You're curious about the way people's minds works, you wanna figure them out. If the conversations you have don't involve some form of psychoanalysis or philosophy you might loose interest. You are a Talker, maybe you talk very fast or you are often told to lower your voice but you don't do it on purpose you're just very very animated. You are kina volatile, in the sense that you value freedom in everything, love, work, hobbies. You have a huge rebellious streak and you kinda like testing your luck. Think adrenaline junkie. It's cliché but with this much Sagittarius in your chart you prob love traveling, like i said you will chase freedom because you associate it with happiness. If you find people that make you feel free then you feel happy. Rules don't go well with you. You don't really like being involved with fights per se but you LOVE debating, if you can beat a motherfucker with nothing but facts and logic you will and you will enjoy it.

Your way of flirting or making friends is "lowkey bullying" or my favourite "verbally throwing hands". If they shoot back you get heart eyes (my mars in sag agrees). You can be tactless as fuck tho. Like you will say some outrageous shit that MIGHT be funny if the timing is right or MIGHT make everyone in a 5 mile radius mad.

I NEED to talk about your moon in sag bc Babe, babe the moon tells us about our emotions and how we deal with them, how we express them and how they shape us. But BABE. Sagittarius moons are so bad at comforting people it's embarrassing, trying to make them think of smth else or do smth else to distract from the situation is NOT a good way to deal with your emotions... Avoiding your emotions like the plague is not gonna invent a vaccine... Saying "everything is fine :)" DOESN'T MAKE ANYTHING FINE PLEASE GO TO THERAPY. ok to give you some credit, you don't let shit bring you down, no matter what you always get up and that is a *strength* that i admire, but love you're burning the candle at both ends, especially if you get yourself in More problems by trying to distract yourself from One problem.

Also you've had a horsegirl phase or a dog obsession phase or both huh. AND your love language is sarcasm but the type that you will make someone laugh when you're insulting them. You're also hilarious irl you're prob the "funny friend" but with that scorpio mars and venus baby inside ur sad and dark as fuck ripp.

I also wanted to talk about your mercury in sag... Babe... Do you know what a brain to mouth filter IS?! do you recognize that word?!?! Cuz you have never used yours i think. Like you are hilarious but that's because you have dolphins in the head cavity baby. Not trying to say you're stupid, you're actually very smart and opinionated, probably have been told that you'd be a great lawyer or smth. But miss gurl please think before you speak for the love of god ur gonna make someone cry. Also ur mouth is foul. Have you ever spoken a sentence without a "fuck" or a "cunt" somewhere in there?! God bless.

Now for your scorpio Venus I'm just gonna say, more confirmation that ur Sexy as Fuck, scorpio venuses are just sexy, amazing partners, VERY passionate, whoever dates you will never forget you, for better or for worse you'll forever be on the back of their mind. You had a harsh emo phase huh, maybe loved some obscure shit like witchcraft or just love dressing all black like someone's mother died, i bet you wear silver jewelry a lot, maybe necklaces or rings or chockers. If this isn't how you dress now it was prob a major phase in your life. Or maybe you just love horror movies idk

Being as passionate as you are you don't take well to being mistreated or lied to, you might like to plot revenge and things like those, you wouldn't do anything... You actually prefer letting things go but you WILL make an elaborate scenario in your head at 3am or even as you stare right in the persons face.

With mars in scorpio you might be kinda passive aggressive, maybe you act like things don't really bother you but you throw a comment or two once in a while just to stir the pot bc you can't move on lmfao.

You are attracted to people that are introverts or generally just mysterious, like i said above the nature of the Sagittarius is to Learn and to Study. People that you can't immediately figure out intrigue you. All your crushes are either on geminis or water signs lmfao.

The best careers for you are the ones that allow you some freedom of either movement or expression and something that can keep your mind from flying away, something that keeps you intrigued, like research or writing. You're a very "all or nothing" person and it can sometimes scare people away, i advise you to work on compromising, being less stubborn and more open with your emotions and desires.

(part one bc I'm taking too long and I don't wanna keep you waiting so much) I'll reblog this with part 2

Alright here we go part 2 of Roasting hella until she finds out I'm hiding in her walls.

I will skip over some planets that are Very slow moving and usually don't talk about you as an individual but refer to your generation as a whole.

I wanna focus on lilith for a sec bc worstie lilith talks about our fears, our more "darker" side that we hide from ourselves as well as the people that we love. Lilith in aries in the eleventh house tells me you might be afraid to take charge, you gravitate towards positions of leadership but you let go on the last second, almost afraid to have too much control, very often self sabotaging your own success. Your anger and you own ambition might scare you, you might be afraid of appearing too aggressive bc under your skin you have a deep rooted anger and rebellion that you wish to relieve but you can't find a good enough outlet, some things soothe it but you always feel like it never leaves. It might be related to some form of resentment that you never truly dealt with and now it sits uncomfortably with you and you just can't get over it and it bothers you. You might have been shy in groups as a child, maybe you talked a lot but it was always from a fear of the silence not always because you had something to say. The eleventh house is that of groups and friends and social awareness, technology and your hopes and wishes for the future, having lilith in this house talks about someone who had a hard time feeling comfortable around people OR someone who wasn't very accepted. You might have desperately wished for friends but have found it hard to find any. Or if you did, you deep down felt very alone. I would advise to learn to accept your anger and deal with it in healthy ways instead of brushing it off and repressing it.

The north node talks about what you need to focus more in your life for example in your case with Gemini in your North node you need to focus more on your communication letting go of anxiety and your relation with other people you need to become more interested in intellectual pursuit and growth. You need to let go off the need to always be right and look more at details instead of focusing on on the bigger picture all of the time. When your North node is is in Gemini then your South node is in Sagittarius which tells me that what you should focus less on is your pursuit of freedom and your rebellion. Be more aware of your words and use them with maturity.

Now let's have some fun with the ascendent in leo which we share and now i see why ur so relatable. The first house or the ascendant is that very superficial layer of our personality, it includes the way we carry ourselves, our style, the little habits or quirks we have. One thing about leo ascendants is that we have an obsession with our hair. Hair is important to us, some have huge hair that might remind you of a lions mane, others just have very unique style or color but we ALL are lowkey or highkey obsessed with it, either constantly touching it, pulling it, chewing on it, cutting it or dying it in unique ways you name it. You might have a rather large nose or cat like eyes.

This ascendent is full of life and light, very funny, light hearted and luxurious, you want to live that good life and i don't blame you. A negative aspect is that we come of as intimidating to others. ALL of my friends AND my ex have at some point told me I was intimidating to them. It makes us prone to overcompensating for it later in life so maybe now you're super outgoing and extroverted and you approach people first and try to be super friendly. Also you're an attention whore (affectionate) with a flare for the dramatics, very flamboyant, you basically fill the room with personality, it attracts attention and you love it. You're what people would call a "sunny" person.

You're hella competitive (get it lol) and you LOVE fighting your way to the top and crushing the competition. You're probably a weirdo that low key likes school. Not the way it's run or the teachers or whatever, but the "idea" of school. If you could just learn all your life you absolutely would.

Second house in virgo. The 2nd house is the house of money, work, income, daily routines, values, material possessions, habits, work ethic ect being in virgo it means you can have an extremely good work ethic, you put a lot of thought in planning and mapping your work, you might get overly critical on your work though and often undermine your own success and efforts because they didn't fit your impossible standards. You can be very organized in your work, you want things to be a certain way and if they don't follow your plan you will Make them. Its a good position for virgo but yoh need to be aware of not overworking by trying to do Everything on your own. Let others help you, and let people in your work do their own things don't try to help if not asked to because you will overwork yourself.

The third house is that of the mind, thinking, communication, siblings, interests and early education, in your case it is in Libra which means that you're early education might not have been very stable or it was a period of time that you look back with a lot of fondness but not much substance. You are a good talker but you get lost when it comes to details, you are indecisive when it comes to settling on an opinion on something if you don't have All the facts first, you always want to be right. You are pretty open minded and easy to talk to but you might have the bad habit of rambling off topic. You change interests constantly and you prob like to talk about others, you wanna know the tea if it kills you. You prob had a crush on a childhood best friend or on a hot neighbor. Your relationship with your siblings might be pretty good, friendly, no particular resentment or anything like that, you might be the one that everyone treats a little better, people let you get away with things more often, you might be the one that takes 2 hours in the bathroom lol.

Oof fourth house in scorpio babe how are the mommy issues? 😬 How is your relationship with your femininity? Having trouble with keeping secrets? So the fourth house is the one responsible for your home roots, your family, self-care, emotions, your mother, women and your femininity and having Scorpio here tells me that you might have very strong ties to your family, but they weren't healthy or emotionally supportive. You have grown with people that might have undermined your emotions, people that didn't teach you to set healthy boundaries and maybe even manipulators and gaslighters. You might have been the type to put your foot down a lot a home, assuming a very dominant role as well as the defender. You're very private about your family life and don't want to let people too close.

Ah i just noticed u have like 3 planets in this house including ur Sun and Moon, babe this house is what you need to focus on when you go to therapy. This almost secretive, guarded approach to understanding your own emotions is very prominent in how you see yourself, how you feel and with Pluto there, how you change. I could say the biggest changes in your life have happened in these areas and they have left the biggest impacts on you. Yes you are passionate and protective but don't let bad feelings marinate forever, address them and then move on from them because they're just weighting you down.

Fifth house in sag, also the house of your mercury. This house represents Love, romance, creativity, self expression, joy and childlike spirit. It tells me the way you express your creativity is through words which makes sense since you're a great writer, but not only, the way you express Love is also through your words, expression and free thoughts are your way you tell your loved ones how much you mean to them, think poetry, long rants, music recommendations bc of specific song lyrics, you have been writing form childhood and it's one of the ways you express your view on beauty as well, to you love is freedom and freedom is expression.

Capricorn in the sixth house paired with both uranus and neptune being in it tells me there is something about your knees, joints, bones or teeth in particular that stands out when it comes to your health, maybe you tend to break your teeth, maybe you like chewing on crunchy foods, maybe your joints crack a lot, idk but I'd drink my milk if i was you, take care of your joints and bones. Also for you, being emotionally unwell often translates to being Physically unwell as well, so be mindful of your emotions because they do affect you physically. You need to keep hydrated also and your health plan needs structure for it to work bc that neptune makes everything very chaotic and uranus constantly makes you bored and wanting to spice things up. Take care of your emotional needs just as much as you would with your physical ones. And for the love of jesus be CAREFUL with alcohol or smoking because that neptune in ur health house could mean serious trouble if you let it become an addiction, don't push it.

Aquarius in the seventh house of relationships, marriage, contracts, business partners ect means you are untraditionally traditional. That makes sense in my head let me explain. Aquarius is a sign that seeks individualism desperately, it likes to feel like a special person, impossible to understand. Yet always feels comfortable in the structure of traditional and safe paths. So for example you might marry someone in a way that is not traditional but at the end of the day you wish for your marriage to have a stability you would feel safe falling into. Also it says ur gay. Air signs in the relationship house says ur gay i Make the rules.

Pisces is in the eighth house of sex, intimacy, shared finances, inheritance, taxes, loans, property, mystery, partner's resources. This tells me you fuck with feeling lmfao. Or you simply make your love life something "special", a connection that only you and ur person can share, it's what makes you an amazing lover and an unforgettable one as well. But as amazing as you are at creating a otherworldly atmosphere, ur just as shit at setting boundaries and saying something when you don't like something. You don't like to see things that you love ending and a failed relationship makes you blame yourself too much, you have the tendency to stay in situations where you are being mistreated but you tell yourself It's on you.

A recurring theme I'm seeing is some weakness when it comes to liars or manipulators in your life. So either you irrationally fear people are lying to you because you "lie" to them about yourself or a lot of people in your childhood might have used lying or gaslighting as a way to keep you under control. I would advise to try not to overthink and become paranoid, people love you and they believe in you and they aren't deceiving you, they don't secretly mean something different from what they have said. Listen to your intuition about people sure, but don't confuse it with anxiety.

With lilith and aries in the 9th house of travel and higher education and religion I'm gonna assume you might have religious trauma. Religion might have been a way that people used to try and control you, if not religion then some form of system or government law. Being queer i completely understand the sentiment but in your case it's take a step further because you Value the ideals of this house so much, with lilith here, it's like at som point in your life you were finally awakened to how much injustice there was in the world ant that has made you very inclined to take action, you cannot stand unjust government or non tolerating religions. You might have felt crushed under an unjust system and it took you a lot of will and conviction to find your individuality and build yourself how you wanted once you were free.

Your midheaven in taurus tells me you are one that will achieve any goals you set your mind to. It might take you time, you might procrastinate around it, but at the end of the day, you will do it and you will do it well and it will be rewarding. If your father isn't a Taurus then he was a stable figure in your life, very much a rock for better or for worse. In your career life people will see you as very competent, very down to earth and helpful but you know you just procrastinated till the last second possible and stayed up all night do finish your work... You will seek careers that you believe will guarantee you stable income and a comfortable life. You might indulge in luxury from time to time because you think in order to get the position you want at work you need to look the part. Ultimately it's your sheer stubbornness and spite that gets you all the way up to the top of the food chain.

The eleventh house of groups, friendships, humanitarianism, and social awareness is in your case in gemini. It tells me you value friendship extremely and you surround yourself with a diverse cast of friends, you couldn't mix your different friend groups if you tried and you have tried. You have the habit of being too friendly to everyone which makes you end up with more friends than you know what to do with. You are approachable but people can get the impression that you are putting up a show or a facade and your emotions arent genuine, it's not always the case but you need to be more truthful and assertive, put some boundaries and don't let people get away with shit you don't like. Your public persona is very well liked, seen as fun and bright and smart and overall a joy to be around.

Now that last placement... 12th house cancer, i have the same placement and babe I'm sorry for all the shit you have been through. You deserve the freedom to be unhappy and to express that unhappiness in healthy ways. You deserve to be given unconditional love and support no matter how many mistakes you say you have made no matter how overly pessimistic you are about yourself it doesn't matter you're amazing and i love you and you deserve the world.

With jupiter the planet of expansion in the 12th house of endings, spirituality, solitude and karma?! Gurl i did say u were a cult leader but i didn't think it was astrologically backed up rippp. But it also says you might have a hard time getting the motivation to finish things, you might take a long time to finish a project. This house placements also tells me you're amazing at writing emotional ass fantasy stories which by now we have confirmed, but if you have like, an original idea for a book don't hesitate to get it started babe bc u have a very promising placement for that. Don't get too dragged into a sad whirlpool of emotions and daydreams but bring your creative ideas to life and you'll be fine.

This is all I'm doing today and i think it's enough lol. I'm posting this I'm sorry to my followers for the long ass post I'll tag it so you can filter it. This was a whole psycho-astrological analysis of our favourite writer Hellspawn1975. I have wanted to study her like a new lizard species for a while and i finally got the chance thank you hella for the opportunity.

Final words to @hella1975 i hate you and I'll fuck ur mom tomorrow, gn babe <3

[sapphirestarxx]

Through the Night

Chapter 12

Also posted on my AO3!

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~☆~

Inuyasha stared at the phone in his hand with utter distaste. It wasn’t the phone’s fault; he understood the necessity and convenience of them in this modern world. It wasn’t even because he disliked phones in general, although Kagome had been working on warming him up to the idea of getting his own. She claimed he needed one in the event she had to get a hold of him and he argued that that was ridiculous because he was always near her side anyway. 

“That won’t always be the case.” She had replied. “I love you, but I do have a life outside of you. Once Tsubaki is taken care of things will go back to normal, and there will be times when we each have our own separate responsibilities to take care of. If we’re going to be together and make a life together, you have to make yourself a part of this modern world, because I am a part of it, too.”

He didn’t like it but there wasn’t much he could say to refute that, because she was right. And he would do anything for her if it meant he got to keep her in his life--to be able to call her his. He had agreed to get one, and make other necessary steps, once everything with Tsubaki was done.

No, Inuyasha’s aversion to the phone was not the phone itself. It was because of who he was about to call. At Kagome’s urging, he had grudgingly agreed to call his bastard of a brother to ask him about any attacks against youkai that were similar to those of the attacks on spiritualists and to see if he knew anything else of note. After what Kaede had told them about Tsubaki  needing massive amounts of both reiki and youki for her dark spell...well, if anyone would know about something happening to demons it would be the Lord of the West. Inuyasha dialed the number and waited as it rang. Fuck, he hated talking to his brother.

“Hello?” A low feminine voice answered. His brother’s mate had picked up the phone.

“Hey, Kagura.” Inuyasha returned and he heard her take a breath of surprise on the other end of the line then let out a soft chuckle. 

“Inuyasha? Well, well, well. Haven’t heard from you in a long time. It’s been-- what? Twenty years?”

“It would be even longer if I had any say in the matter but unfortunately I need to speak to that dick you call your mate.”

“Right.” Kagura drawled. “You two and your bickering. Doesn’t it ever get old?”

“He’s the one who talks down to me and insults me every fucking chance he gets.” Inuyasha snapped.

“And you rise to the bait every time.” Kagura responded dryly. Inuyasha could practically hear her eye-roll through the phone. “What is it about you brothers that makes you seem to bring out the worst in each other? Still, I’ll admit Sesshomaru is the instigator at least half the time. He isn’t always easy to deal with.”

“I don’t know how you deal with him at all.”

“He’s my mate. While he does have a tendency to act like a condescending ass at times, I’m always quick to remind him of who he’s dealing with, and I know he can find me just as maddening. Of course, he’s never been as unreasonable with me as he is with you.” Kagura answered, amused. “But you didn’t call to ask about my mateship with your brother.”

“No offense, but I’d rather puke blood than hear about you being all lovey-dovey with that jackass.”

Kagura laughed. “I always did like you, Inuyasha. You know I’ve never had anything against you personally.”

“I know. Anyways, I need to speak to him. Is he around?”

“He just got off a conference call; I’ll hand you off.”

“Thanks.” Inuyasha grunted.

“To what do I owe the honor of this call, little brother?” Sesshomaru’s deep, stoic voice asked. It was obvious from his tone that he considered it anything but an honor.

“Hey. I got a couple questions to ask ya.”

“And what might they be?” Sesshomaru sounded bored and Inuyasha resisted the urge to snarl.

“Have there been any attacks against demons lately, with a rune left behind at the scene? And I’m not talkin’ about evil demons. I mean those with powerful auras, who mind their own business around humans, being left in comas with their youki sucked dry.”

There was a long pause and Inuyasha almost began to wonder if his asshat of a brother had simply hung up on him when Sesshomaru spoke again. This time there was no boredom in his voice. His tones were urgent, almost hushed; Inuyasha had gotten his attention.

“How did you come upon this information?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Is it not obvious from my reaction to your words? Tell me what you know.” Sesshomaru ordered imperiously. Suppressing the impulse to tell his brother to go fuck himself, Inuyasha recounted everything they had discovered to him. Everything from the runes, the stolen book of black magic, all their battles, Tsubaki’s involvement behind it all, and their recent discoveries regarding her master plan. Sesshomaru listened without interruption and when he was done the daiyoukai was silent for a long moment.

“This is not good.”

“No, it’s not.” Inuyasha said, agreeing with his brother for one of the first times in both their lives.

“Hn.”

“Alright, I told you what I know; now it’s your turn.”

“Very well.” Sesshomaru’s voice sounded put upon. “About two months ago reports began surfacing of attacks on demons and they were as you described-- drained of their youki and left in comas. There was a mark left behind at each one. If what you say is true, then their souls have also been taken.”

“It’s true.”

“Hn.” Sesshomaru acknowledged. “I remember this Naraku of which you speak.”

“You gonna elaborate on that?” Inuyasha prodded when he fell silent again. His brother had never been the talkative type. Getting anything out of him was like pulling teeth, and this was probably the most forthcoming he had ever been with Inuyasha.

“He thought himself far above his station and was overly ambitious, although he was indeed very powerful for a half breed.” Sesshomaru’s voice dripped contempt at the insulting term and Inuyasha gritted his teeth. “After joining with that dark priestess he became a menace, causing countless problems and gaining influence among those demons who were not content with their place in life. He attempted to form a rebellion against my rule over the youkai of Japan. Many of my allies were attacked.”

“They why the fuck didn’t you do anything?” Inuyasha demanded. “You’re the fucking Lord of the West. Or did you just not care??”

“Mind your tone, little brother.” Sesshomaru clipped out. “Do not think to cast judgement on what you know nothing about. Your ignorance is showing.”

“Keh, whatever. So while you were sittin’ on your ass some priestess took him down instead.”

Sesshomaru growled a warning through the phone and Inuyasha gave a smug grin. It was petty but he felt a little victorious at having gotten a rise out of him.

“This one had been carefully taking steps to end Naraku. It was fifty years ago, not the feudal era where demons fought with abandon, giving no thought as to the consequences of their battles or of human discovery. This one realizes subtly is not your strength, but surely even you have to realize what a terrible idea it would have been for us to fight to the death in the middle of Tokyo.”

“Demonkind would have been exposed.” Inuyasha grudgingly admitted his brother was right. If they had gone all out there would have been no covering that up. Still, that smug sense of satisfaction only increased; Sesshomaru only fell back into his old habit of referring to himself in the third person when he was truly irate.

“Exactly so.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t know about all the attacks against spiritualists before now. Did you know about Tsubaki’s involvement in all of this?” Inuyasha asked.

“There have been rumors regarding the spiritualists, but this one knew nothing for certain. Regarding Tsubaki-- no. This one was not aware of the connection between her and the attacks until your call.” Sesshomaru paused, and his next words were strained, as if he had to force himself to speak them. “This one owes you thanks. Your information has been surprisingly useful.”

It was a backhanded compliment but it was still a great concession for the daiyoukai. Inuyasha was surprised to say the least.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Tsubaki must not be allowed to succeed with her plan. Take care of it.”

Inuyasha bristled at the way his brother had just basically ordered him to do what he was already doing anyways. 

“You don’t get to fucking order me around.” Inuyasha snapped back. “And besides what’s stoppin’ you, huh? Maybe you should get off your ass for a change and do something.”

“Don’t be foolish. She is a dark priestess, not a demon, and therefore not of my concern.”

“And what about all those demons on her side, helping her? Or are they not your problem either?”

“Inuyasha, were you and your companions not already pursuing her?” Sesshomaru’s voice betrayed his impatience.

“Yeah, but--”

“Then this one fails to see the issue.”

“Some help you were.” Inuyasha all but snarled.

“Surely even a half breed like you can handle this task. She is one woman.”

“One woman with an arsenal of black magic who probably has a fucking army to send after us!” Inuyasha returned. “What do you think happened to all those evil demons and spirits on their side after Naraku was purified? You think they just went away? She’s been sending these fuckers after us since day one. At first it was just the small fry but now she’s been upping her game and having the stronger ones attack us.”

“If she indeed has an army, Kagura and I will lend our assistance at that battle. But until that is the case this fight is left to you and your companions. We will not accompany you on some wild goose chase across the city while you pick off her allies one by one.”

“Fine!” Inuyasha growled, hanging up the phone. He had learned basically nothing from that whole exchange, only confirmation of what they had already suspected. The only good news (if you could call it that) was that if things got really bad they could rely on Sesshomaru and Kagura’s help. And “really bad” meant facing an actual army they had to fight through to get to Tsubaki and stop her. But barring that they were on their own.

Placing the phone back on its cradle and making a conscious effort not to slam it down, Inuyasha made his way back up the stairs to Kagome’s room. There wasn’t much to tell, but he had promised to let her know how it went and what his brother had said.

~☆~

While Inuyasha had been calling his brother Kagome had been on the phone having her own conversation with Sango. She had called to demand that Sango give her all the details of having sex with Miroku, and Sango had hissed at her to lower her voice. That was probably because Miroku had been sitting right next to her when she had answered the phone if the masculine laughter Kagome heard in the background following her words was any indication. Telling Miroku she was going to have a private conversation with her best friend and to shut the hell up, Kagome heard Sango excuse herself to the bedroom and shut the door. Then, in a hushed voice, Sango had told her all about it. It all sounded like such a romantic yet incredibly erotic and pleasurable experience. When she was done Kagome had sighed almost dreamily.

“Wow. That sounds...amazing. I’m kind of jealous. Inuyasha refuses to mate with me until after we take down Tsubaki.” She told Sango, her tone wistful. 

“It must be hard having to wait when you love him so much.” Sango sympathized. Then a thought occurred to her. “Is it just intercourse he refuses to do, or anything at all?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it’s just the actual sex itself that he’s putting off because it triggers the mating instinct...Kagome, you know there are other things you can do without going all the way, right?”

Kagome froze at that revelation and wondered why she hadn’t thought of that. It seemed so...obvious.

“You...you’re absolutely right.”

“While demons typically don’t do anything sexual unless they are reproducing or reaffirming a mate bond...Inuyasha is half human, too.”

“I don’t want to put pressure on the demonic part of him if that’s the case, though…” Kagome hedged.

“Then talk to him about it...if your heart can handle it.”

“You’re so evil sometimes. Now that you’ve brought it up it’s all I can think about!”

Sango laughed and wished her luck then hung up the phone. A few minutes later Inuyasha walked in through her bedroom door and Kagome jumped up from her bed, slightly startled. He stopped at her abrupt reaction to his entrance.

“Uh, you okay?”

“Y-yeah. How did the call with your brother go?”

His face darkened a bit as he related the gist of the conversation to her. Closing the door behind him, he walked across the room to lean against the window as he talked and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hmm. It doesn’t sound like he knows too much more than we do. What you said about Tsubaki having an army, though...that didn’t even occur to me before but it makes sense. She’s always sending others to fight her battles for her. Assuming we manage to corner her I can’t see her taking us on all by herself. No matter how powerful she is.” Kagome mused.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Well, at least if we really are facing an army we can count on his help.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath for that.” Inuyasha said, then his golden eyes turned shrewd as he stared at her. “You wanna explain why you were smelling of arousal when I walked in?”

Kagome blushed and she sputtered for a moment, mumbling something about how unfair it was he could seem to smell everything about her.

“Can’t help it. Dog demon, remember? Now what’s goin’ on?”

“Uhm, I-- I was thinking and-- uhm, well…” Kagome stuttered out, suddenly shy for some reason. “You said you won’t mate with me until Tsubaki is defeated. Does-- does that mean we can’t do anything or just, well, just the-- the sex itself?”

“What are you tryin’ to say?” Inuyasha asked, a corner of his mouth kicking up and exposing the tip of a fang.

“If it’s just actual s-sex that activates the mating instinct, well...there’s other things we could do without going all the way. If-- if it’s not too hard on your demonic half...since you’re half human I thought...” Kagome answered in a barely audible voice, her face red. 

“Oh, yeah? What kind of things?” Inuyasha drew the question out. He was full on smirking now and Kagome’s pulse raced. He had to know what she was talking about; why was he teasing her like this? Saying she wanted to mate with him was one thing, but talking about the particulars of sexual favors was too much for her virgin heart to take.

“Well, Kagome? Aren’t ya gonna tell me?” Inuyasha slowly uncrossed his arms and straightened, taking a step towards her, his amber eyes glowing. Heat shot straight through her and her body felt flushed.

“Uhm...y-you know what…I mean...”

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“N-never mind! Forget it!!” Kagome yelled, too embarrassed. Why had she said anything?? She whirled blindly towards the door, needing to escape the situation she had created, but suddenly Inuyasha was there in front of her. He grasped her around the waist, holding her to him and looking down into her eyes.

“You can’t bring somethin’ like that up then just tell me to forget it.” Inuyasha told her, his voice rough with desire. Kagome shivered at the sound and swallowed.

“I...I can’t say it. It’s too embarrassing.” She mumbled, blushing madly and staring resolutely at his chest, unable to maintain the intense eye contact. 

“I know what you mean. I didn’t mean to tease ya, but I just couldn’t resist. And to be honest, I’m dying to, but I’m still worried I’ll get too carried away once I start touchin’ you.” Inuyasha admitted.

“If you do I’ll tell you to stop. I know you won’t do anything to me without my consent.”

Inuyasha had no idea why she seemed to have so much faith in him. Every time he touched her, every time she let out that breathy sigh of pleasure from his kisses, every time he smelled the siren call of her arousal...it was all he could do not to rip off all her clothes and take her right then and there. To sink his fangs into the place her shoulder met her neck and mark her as his forever. Still, he considered her words and realized she was probably right. Not even his demonic half-- the baser part of him-- would force anything on her, not if she was telling him no. No matter how strongly it demanded he give in to his instincts, she was his mate and that meant his demonic half would listen to her wants; it desired her acceptance of him, to make her happy. Taking her by force would go against all of that. 

Still, despite her insistence, he didn’t think she was entirely aware of everything she was asking for him to do. Imagining things and building them up in her head like she had clearly been doing was totally different from actually experiencing it. The kinds of things she was asking for were on a completely different level from the kissing and touching they had been doing since admitting their feelings for each other. She was so pure and earnest that of course she would want to dive in headfirst, but this was all so new to her. Hell, it was new to him too, but he had a lot more years on his side. Knowledge he’d acquired by chance, and not necessarily voluntarily. 

“So you’re saying you want me to touch you like this?” He asked in a low voice as he trailed a hand up her thigh, slipping under her skirt until he reached the juncture of her thighs. She stiffened as her breathing quickened. He stopped the motion of his hand and after a moment withdrew it, giving her forehead a kiss. 

“You’re way too tense to be ready for somethin’ like this.” 

Kagome cringed at her involuntary reaction, trying to will herself to relax. She wanted so badly to feel him touch her intimately, wanted to solidify their bond. Of course they wouldn’t go all the way, waiting to make their mateship official until after Tsubaki had been taken down, but being intimate in other ways would go hand in hand for when they finally did. However, up until a week ago she had never really even kissed a guy, let alone felt one touch her in the ways she was asking for. When Inuyasha kissed her it was unlike anything she had imagined, and when he ran his hands over her body she wanted to melt, but that was child’s play compared to the way he had been about to touch her. She craved it but a small part of her was still trying to adjust to the reality of it.

“I-I’m sorry, I really do want this, I promise. I’m just...nervous.” Kagome insisted, biting her lip.

“Exactly. You’re way too nervous. And there aint anything wrong with that. We don’t have to rush anything here.”

“But I want it! I...I want to deepen our relationship. I know we can’t mate, not yet, but I want that feeling of closeness and intimacy. I just...I’m just not used to it. I’ve never been with anyone before so I...I just…” 

“Kagome, I’m not going to demand anything of you. I know you want this, but I also know what your body is telling me, and it’s saying you’re not ready for anything more just yet. Maybe tomorrow, maybe two weeks from now. But it aint today. Let’s be clear; this is all kinda new to me too. Demons don’t just go around fucking everything in sight. Not usually anyway. I’m not trying to rush this. This is it; you’re it.”

He was right, of course. Right now she was definitely too tense. It wasn’t the right moment. She brought her arms up and wrapped them around him while burying her face in his chest as he gently nuzzled the top of her head with his cheek.

“And by the way, I aint sayin’ no to what you were askin’ for. Now just isn’t the right time.”

“Good. And now that you’ve said it, I’m not letting you back out of it.”

He pulled away from her enough to cup her cheek and raise her face to his before lowering his lips to hers. They kissed, lips moving against each other and it was sweet and tender and full of everything they felt for each other.

~☆~

Sango spent the day with Miroku, and wondered if it was wrong to feel such happiness when things were so dire. The situation they were in, all the things they still didn’t know, the consequences should they fail...it was sobering but it didn’t diminish the peace in her heart that being with Miroku had given her. She wondered if Kagome was having a similar internal struggle, and then was curious if Kagome had taken her advice on pursuing...other ways of being physical with Inuyasha.

When Sango had told her best friend all about being intimate with Miroku she could tell how badly Kagome wanted the same experience with Inuyasha. She had to give him credit for thinking about the possible consequences to Kagome first, knowing that the demonic instinct to mate was all but overwhelming. The pull might not be as uncontrollable for him because he was only a half demon but it had to be difficult to suppress, regardless.

After getting off the phone with Kagome her body was flushed from the memories that she had just relived. Exiting the bedroom, she silently walked back to the living room where Miroku was and he gave her a knowing, heated look. He was fully aware of what she had just been talking about. She blushed, wanting to tell him to stop smirking at her, to get his mind out of the gutter. The problem was that's exactly where her mind had gone too. Sitting close, she reached for him and he kissed her as she pressed herself into him. He gave her what she was wordlessly asking for and ended up taking her right there on the couch. Afterwards he gave her a very satisfied smile before flipping their positions, holding her against his chest. As they laid there together Sango’s mind drifted and Miroku gently stroked her hair.

“Pretty sure you were loud enough that every neighbor on this floor heard you.” He remarked in a teasing voice after a few moments.

“Shut up.” Sango smacked his chest hard, and he grunted but otherwise didn’t seem to care. In fact he even chuckled a bit at her reaction, no doubt finding it cute.

“I would have figured you were the quiet type, but it seems you’re actually quite vocal.”

“I-I’m not! Well, that is, I mean to say, I wasn’t ever loud, not before when it was just m-me...But for some reason w-when you touch me I can’t seem to hold back.” Sango confessed, blushing and refusing to look at him to see his reaction. He had to be feeling rather proud at that admission.

“Hmm. Is that so? That does make me feel rather accomplished. But I have a confession to make, too.” He said, and although there was a hint of smug satisfaction in his voice there was something a little more serious, too.

“What?”

“You’re the only woman who’s ever been able to drive me as wild as you do. Make me make the sounds that I do.”

Sango raised her head from his chest to look at him and he met her eyes steadily, giving her a soft smile.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Of course, you’re also the only woman I’ve ever been in love with, so I’m sure that plays a role.” He continued and warmth bloomed in her chest as her heart pounded.

“You’ve really never loved anyone else?”

“Only you, Sango.”

She knew she should just accept those beautiful, heartfelt words and cherish the moment but something compelled her to keep pressing.

“If you’ve never been in love before then how do you know you love me?”

“Because it’s the only word that could possibly describe what I feel for you.”

Sango wasn’t really the emotional type but she found herself getting misty-eyed at his honest and rather romantic words. Oh God, was she really going to start crying like some high school girl? No, no, no. With an effort she tried to compose herself.

“Why are you so perfect?” She hadn’t realized she said the words until they had left her mouth.

“So that I could be worthy of a goddess such as yourself.” Miroku replied easily, still giving her that soft smile.

Sango managed to not cry and returned his smile as she rolled her eyes at the cheesy line before leaning in to kiss him. He readily welcomed her lips upon his and kissed her long and slow, and she nibbled his lip between her teeth gently before they pulled apart. She stared at him for a moment then spoke.

“I love you, too.”

~☆~

A few hours later they both prepared to make their way to the Higurashi Shrine for the location ritual Miroku was going to help Kagome perform. Sango was dressed in her slayer gear and Miroku packed a white kosode to change into for when it came time. It had been a long time since he had practiced any kind of ceremonial rites but as a monk he had done plenty before. It would be his first time performing one with a priestess and combining the power between the two of them, however.

Kagome had already gone over the particulars with him yesterday on the drive from the Shikon Shrine back to Tokyo but they both felt it was a good idea to review it once more before actually performing it. There were other preparations to be made too, such as cleansing baths, individual prayers, and the drawing of a rune upon both of their chests, over the heart. The rune was not a black mark like the ones Tsubaki had been using to absorb the souls and powers of her victims, nor was it to amplify dark feelings to fuel darker magics. This one was pure, and would serve to guard against Tsubaki getting a read on their magical signatures, masking it and rendering them effectively invisible to her mind’s eye. In the event that failed it would change their presence to something different than what it truly was so that she couldn’t latch onto it and trace it back to them. 

That was the hope, anyways. In the event Tsubaki made it past all their protections again Kagome had Miroku with her this time and between her power and his, she felt confident they could handle anything the dark priestess threw at them. Not to mention they had Inuyasha and Sango to watch over them. It would be fine.

Once it was time and all the preparations had been made all four of them walked to the building with the purification pool they would use for the ritual. Kagome and Miroku had already changed, each dressed in their white kosode, with heavier robes draped over their shoulders to protect them from the bite of cold in the air. The rune they had both drawn upon themselves with a special ink was hidden beneath all the layers, resting over their hearts. 

Entering the small building Inuyasha and Sango took up positions against the wall while Kagome and Miroku lit the incense braziers and removed their outer robes, setting them aside. The both stepped into the water and stood facing each other before looking into each other’s eyes and taking hold of each other’s hands. Power flowed between them and Miroku shielded their minds while Kagome worked on reforming the tenuous connection they both possessed with Tsubaki that had been left behind by her telepathic presence. Once that had been established they could perform the ritual itself and this time would be different; Kagome would not make the same mistakes she had last time.

Inuyasha watched, feeling the immense amount of reiki accumulating between the two of them. There was nothing romantic about what they were doing; logically he knew that. Still, the sight of his mate standing in front of another man in nothing but a thin robe, holding his hands and looking into his eyes...his inner demon was snarling. Especially at the memory of the last time they had been in here, her kosode soaked and transparent, baring everything to his eyes. He hadn’t realized he was beginning to growl out loud until Kagome spoke.

“Inuyasha, it’s hard to focus with you growling.” Kagome said, her voice a quiet admonishment.

“The demon part of me isn’t exactly thrilled at the sight of you holding hands with that pervert, wearing practically nothing.” He groused. He knew Miroku wasn’t interested in Kagome in that way but it didn’t seem to matter to his demon half. After the moment he and Kagome had shared earlier, her confessions of intimacy, combined with the mate bond still waiting to be established and his claim made...his instincts wouldn’t subside. They were still screaming that she was his and to mark her, and screw anyone else who tried to touch her. 

Sango gave him a sidelong glance, keeping her comments to herself. If she wasn’t so sure about Miroku’s feelings for her, if she still thought he was just a flirt trying to hit on any attractive woman, then maybe she might have been a little worried. But that wasn’t the case. It was clear it was strictly platonic and all about the ritual. She almost rolled her eyes at Inuyasha’s reaction. Talk about possessive.

“Inuyasha…” Miroku sighed. “Trust me, I would much rather be in here with Sango, holding her hands and looking deeply into her beautiful eyes instead. As lovely as Kagome is, I have absolutely zero interest in her as a woman. No offense.” 

“None taken.” Kagome smiled.

“Yeah, I fucking know. I never said it was rational.” Inuyasha snapped, but he made a conscious effort to keep himself under control. 

Once his snarling had stopped they resumed their efforts, until their powers had risen, awaiting direction. The air was charged with the sheer amount they had built up between the two of them. Dropping each other’s hands they quietly chanted the necessary incantations while performing the accompanying movements that helped to center and focus their minds and powers. Keeping their objective of finding Tsubaki at the forefront of their thoughts as they moved and holding onto that dark connection she had left behind in their minds, the power they had called forth responded. It swirled before grabbing hold of their intentions, now knowing what to search for.

Finishing the ritual they each closed their eyes and breathed deep, the lotus and sandalwood incense burning in the braziers working to calm and settle their minds. They ran their hands through the water, performing more ceremonial movements before grabbing hold of each other’s hands again, eyes still closed. Slowly, they reached a meditative state where they drifted, their physical contact helping to anchor their spirits to each other as, finally, a connection was made.

Images came to them-- a large estate; a patch of woods; an ornate marble fountain in front of the mansion-like house filled with dead leaves, water no longer flowing from the sculpture stretching high at the center; tall blood-red doors; a front gate overgrown with Japanese ivy; and finally, a placard with the address. The visions continued, taking them inside the house. A large entryway overlooked by a balcony with a split staircase leading up to the second story; a chandelier hanging from the ceiling dripping with crystals; a room with a mahogany desk, heavy black velvet curtains preventing any light from finding its way in; a close up of the pages of a book detailing a forbidden ritual to resurrect a half demon, the edges yellowed with age. 

Abruptly the images cut off, and Kagome reeled for a moment, fearing the connection had been severed. But that wasn’t the case as she felt their power still linked to...something. Or someone as it turned out. When it refocused they could see the image of a woman. Her face was beautiful, with a youthfulness that belied the gray of her long hair. There was a sharpness to her features that was softened slightly by her large green eyes. Eyes that seemed to be staring directly at them.

“You again.” Tsubaki spat the words into both of their minds, contempt dripping from every one. “And it looks like you brought a friend. Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?”

The rune should have protected them from discovery and Kagome spared a thought to wonder how she had found her way around it. Their presence should have been nonexistent to her, allowing them to slip in and out undetected. Was she so powerful now, so glutted with the darkness the runes had been feeding into her, that it was useless against her?

They both felt Tsubaki attempt to flip the spell back onto them, as she had the first time Kagome had performed this ritual, but Miroku’s shielding held strong against her attack and it failed.

“It appears you’ve learned something at least.” Tsubaki huffed in annoyance and Kagome felt a small thrill of victory.

“How did you detect our presence?” Miroku asked, responding telepathically.

“You’re not as clever as you think you are.” Tsubaki replied. “Did you try to use a rune to mask yourself? It doesn't work if you’ve already performed the spell on the person you’re seeking to hide yourself from. Especially not when you had that spell flipped back onto you. Still incompetent, I see.”

“Be that as it may, you still weren’t able to reverse it this time.” Miroku returned evenly.

“You I can’t truly sense, but I knew there was too much power at work for that little priestess to be doing this all on her own. I can only assume you’re the monk.”

“Guilty.”

“So you found me. Congratulations. This changes nothing.”

“Don’t be so sure. We know your plan now.” Kagome shot back. “All those souls you’ve been collecting, all that youki and reiki...we know you plan to bring Naraku back.”

Tsubaki let out a laugh and it echoed inside their heads, girlish and loud.

“Oh, is that all? You’re still as clueless as ever if you think that’s everything.”

“What does that mean?” Kagome demanded.

“As if I would tell you.” Tsubaki scoffed, then her tones turned unforgiving. “In the meantime, I have a gift for you. Consider it recompense for the murder of my apprentice.”

Feeling the power in the air shift around them, they both snapped their eyes open, trying to locate the source of the disturbance.

“Shielding only protects you from a psychic attack. And if you know enough spells there’s always a way to get around even the strongest of wards. Being good only gets you so far.”

Tsubaki murmured a dark incantation and Kagome felt the pull through their telepathic connection; she felt something opening up. Then the link between the two of them and Tsubaki was severed and there was movement in the water.

Miroku and Kagome instantly dropped their hands and sprang back, causing Inuyasha and Sango to become alert, ready to defend them. What looked like snakes swam around their legs, and they both immediately erected barriers against the threat. It was at that moment Kagome and Miroku recognized the two serpents as shikigami. But rather than attack the two spiritualists they shot out of the water and went after Inuyasha and Sango instead, quick as lightning.

One of them wound its way up Sango’s leg then torso faster than she could blink and wrapped the top of its body around her right arm. She triggered the hidden blade at her wrist and sliced the head clean off, but not before it sank its fangs through the leather of her slayer suit and deep into her wrist. Giving a small cry at the sudden pain, she stared as it disintegrated and breathed hard as adrenaline raced through her veins. Checking her wrist over, she noticed there were no holes in her gear left behind from the fangs; there was no blood. But still the ache lingered.

At the same time the other shikigami had raced its way towards Inuyasha, striking out at him with uncanny speed. He dodged its first attempt but it doubled back with a ferocity, set on its target and this time it succeeded. Fangs buried themselves in his ankle and he snarled, reaching down with his claws to shred the shikigami to shreds. With its body destroyed it broke apart into dust and Inuyasha shook his foot, glaring. Whatever it had been it hadn’t actually bitten him, not physically anyways.

“What the fuck?!”

“Sango!” Miroku called out her name, gaining her attention and she realized he and Kagome had gotten out of the pool, him racing to her side and Kagome rushing over to Inuyasha. 

“Miroku, what the hell was that?” She asked, slightly bewildered and a bit concerned. Returning her wrist blade to its sheath she looked at him. Even though her skin was unblemished she still felt uneasy. Miroku took her wrist in his hands and frowned as he spoke.

“That was a shikigami sent by Tsubaki. We got a lot of information but apparently she was still able to break through our defenses enough to send them after us.” He answered, his heart beating fast. The shikigami had bitten her; he had seen it, watched it all as it unfolded. Everything had happened too fast for him to react, to do anything at all, and now he was afraid its bite had left something behind inside her. Pushing her sleeve down he saw her skin was whole and there were no marks that he could see, no blood indicating any actual fangs had pierced through.

“It bit me, but there’s no wound. I don’t understand.” Sango said. She could see the concern on Miroku’s face and watched as he inspected her. After a moment he raised his eyes to her own and she swallowed.

“I don’t think it was meant to be a physical attack. Shikigami are constructs made of spiritual power and Tsubaki went to the trouble of sending these after us which leads me to believe there’s something more going on here. I want to check you over with my own power to make sure it didn’t leave anything behind.” Miroku told her and Sango nodded her consent.

Carefully, Miroku cast his reiki over and into her and she suppressed a shiver at the feel of it. Starting from her wrist and working his way across the whole of her body, Miroku was thorough in his search and he found nothing that didn’t belong. He even closed his eyes for a moment and, slipping into his meditative state again, peered into the shining light that was her soul and there was nothing but Sango there. Opening his eyes he met her darkened gaze and gave a slight shake of his head indicating he had found nothing amiss.

“There’s nothing that I could detect.” He confirmed. Despite his words, neither of them felt better. 

Kagome had dropped to her knees in front of Inuyasha, grabbing at his ankle and attempted her own inspection of him despite his protests that he was fine. Like Sango, there was no mark, no indication that anything had happened left behind on his skin. But she had seen it, and she knew it was likely something deeper that went into the soul. Because he was half demon she couldn't run her reiki through him like Miroku had done with Sango. So instead she had closed her eyes and inspected him with her mind’s eye, able to slip easily into her meditative trance again to look him over. There were no specks of darkness in the light of his soul and so she had no choice but to accept that there was nothing wrong with him.

“I can’t find anything wrong.” She admitted, rising to her feet and looking at him.

“I told ya I was fine.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” She said anxiously. Still, she couldn’t actually prove anything was off about him.

Overhearing their conversation Sango silently agreed but said nothing. She could tell Miroku had his own reservations too, but that he didn’t want to worry her when there was nothing he could find, and therefore nothing he could do about it. Her wrist pulsed with another ache and she held back a grimace, telling herself it was all in her head. If neither he nor Kagome could find anything then that meant there was nothing to be nervous about. She just wished she truly believed that.

Once they had checked Sango and Inuyasha over and found nothing, Miroku and Kagome then told them everything they had learned. They described all the images in their visions in as much detail as they could, images that finally revealed Tsubaki’s location. Taking turns they recounted the telepathic conversation they had had with the dark priestess while Sango and Inuyasha listened intently until they were done.

“‘If you think that’s everything?’” Inuyasha repeated Tsubaki’s words, scowling. “What else is that bitch scheming? Fuck.” 

“I have no idea. Maybe it has to do with the ritual she plans for Naraku’s resurrection. Or maybe it’s something else.” Kagome shrugged unhappily, her face pensive.

“You said you saw the pages of a book in one of the images of your vision. Do you remember what was on it?” Sango asked.

“Now that I think about it-- yes. It was a spell for the resurrection of a half demon, and if I took some time I could probably recall all the details of the page.” Miroku replied after a moment.

“I think I could too. I would guess it's a page from that book of black magic she stole.” Kagome added.

“So we know her location now. We gonna go hunt this bitch down?” Inuyasha spoke what they had all been wondering.

“I mean, what else are we going to do? We can’t really form a plan without knowing exactly what we’re walking into but at the same time we can’t afford to wait around in hopes of her tipping her hand. Who knows when she intends to enact her plan and cast that spell.” Kagome pointed out.

“True, but she knows we found out where she is now. Who’s to say we won’t be walking into a trap?” Miroku returned. Once again he felt there was something they were missing about the shikigami that had attacked them. It seemed too simple coming from a woman who had the most evil of spells at her fingertips.

“Even if that’s the case we have no choice but to go. I don’t like being so unprepared when walking into enemy territory; not when we’re facing off against someone so powerful and evil. But our options are limited. All we can do is be careful.” Sango argued. “If necessary we’ll retreat but we have to at least try.”

“We should at least wait until tomorrow and try to get some rest. I would also like to take some time to write down what I can remember from that page we saw in the visions. I’m sure there was a reason we were given a glimpse at it; it has to be important.” Miroku replied.

“Fine, but we head out first thing tomorrow.” Inuyasha grumbled.

“Alright, it’s decided. We’ll get some rest then meet tomorrow and see what’s waiting for us at that address.” Kagome said. At her words they all left the building and made their way to the main residence. She wished them a good night and Sango waited for Miroku to change back into his regular clothes before they headed home themselves. On the drive back to her apartment they were silent for a bit, each considering all the many possibilities that tomorrow could bring. The shikigami's bite was an unspoken worry between them, hovering in the back of both of their minds.

“What do you think we’ll find tomorrow?” Sango finally asked him to take her mind off of it.

“I honestly have no idea. There’s so many possibilities that speculation is almost pointless.” Miroku shrugged as they pulled into her apartment complex.

“That’s true.” She sighed.

Once inside her apartment he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began to write down everything he could remember about the book page he had seen in the vision. When he was finished he looked up and saw Sango hadn't really moved, her face worried and lost in thought.

“Sango? What's wrong?”

She seemed to start at that and gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s nothing.”

“The look on your face tells me it’s not nothing. What is it?”

She stared at her wrist for a long moment before answering.

“I know you didn’t find anything wrong, that you examined me very carefully-- but for some reason I can’t shake this feeling. I feel so uneasy; that something has been done to me and I just don’t know what it is yet.” She admitted after a slight hesitation.

“I know it goes against your nature to let yourself be protected but I want you to know this-- if anything happens, if that shikigami really did leave something behind that none of us could detect and it emerges...I’ll take care of it. I’ll save you. I won’t let you be swallowed up by some dark curse.” Miroku told her, moving to stand in front of her. He meant every word and hoped hearing them would help to soothe her fears.

Sango breathed deeply and exhaled, most of her tension disappearing. The sincerity and conviction in his voice was a balm to her soul and she relaxed. Somehow, when he said it like that, she believed him. 

“Thank you, Miroku. For what it’s worth, I’ll always save you, too.”

“It’s worth everything.”

He pulled her to him and placed his mouth upon hers. Kissing her gently, he cupped her cheek and used his other arm to cradle her to him. Sango rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning into it and kissing him back. This wasn’t a kiss that grew more passionate, leading to heated touches; this was a kiss of reassurance and a reminder that whatever awaited them tomorrow, they had each other and they would figure it out.

[uncloseted]

How Can I Care Less About My Image Like Effy? Less About Impressing Others And More About Just Doing What I Like Without Letting Them Influence Me?

Anonymous said:

So I have some problems with my confidence. I can be confident at times but it lasts for a very short time and I begin analysing every part of myself and find new insecurities. Sometimes it makes me feel really disgusting so any advice?? Thank you for this blog btw

Anonymous said:

Even though there are people who like me I feel like I'm not a likeable person because I'm insecure and this gets in the way of me socialising, having fun and having good relationships with people. How do I stop feeling this way?

Anonymous said:

last night i had the worst breakdown i’ve had in foreve about how ugly i was, every single detail about myself was so prominent and i’ve fallen so deep down this hole where i couldn’t hate myself more. i’m so unattractive andthat’s the only thing that people give a fuck about , relatives, friends, family, employers, it’s consumed my life. sometimes i’ll look in the mirror and like what i see &for that fleeting moment i’m so fucking happy you can’t imagine but then i go back to seeing the truth

Anonymous said:

I hate myself. How do I mask my insecurities and make people think I'm confident and make it look like don't care about what they think?

Anonymous said:

how can i appear more confident?

Anonymous said:

how do i deal with fear of being judged? I'm always so scared that people I've known for a long time will remember embarrassing things I've done and still laugh at me for it

Anonymous said:

I'm so insecure because I care so much what people think, its so bad that I don't even want to leave my house. When I go out with all my friends, almost all of them get complimented somehow and I never do, it might sound selfish or something but it really brings down my self esteem, I start feeling like I'm invisible or that people only hang out with me because they feel bad for me, and it makes me want to stop being social/getting out of the house, etc.

Anonymous said:

I sometimes hate my face so much and I feel so insecure and it's the worst feeling :( I hope I like the way I look one day but it seems so hard.

Anonymous said:

I can’t be confident with myself, I’m a huge ppl pleaser bc it feels like is the only way to keep them around, and I guess that’s ok but what frustrastes me the most is the fact that ppl don’t see me or my personality, it’s like I’m just there to help them out, to be their side kick... whenever I try to be confident I cringe at myself... How can I feel more secure with myself?

More than any other question, the thing I get asked most is how to build self-confidence, overcome insecurities, and deal with the fear of being judged.  In this post, I’m going to put every tip and trick I know about becoming confident, no matter who you are and the situation you’re in.

The first thing to remember about confidence is that people aren’t drawn to people because they’re beautiful, or smart, or kind, or fun, or interesting.  People are drawn to people who are confident.  If you’re confident and weird, you’re not weird, you’re a visionary.  If you’re confident and ugly, you’re not ugly, you’re “unconventionally beautiful” or a trendsetter.  If you’re confident and overly serious, you’re not boring, you’re a leader.  A lot of people think it’s the other way around- that only beautiful, smart, charming people who are well-liked can be confident- but it’s not true.  To use a Skins example, Tony’s not a good person.  He’s manipulative and cruel.  But people like him (at least in the beginning) and go along with what he says because he’s confident.  The same goes for Katie.  You can argue about whether she’s objectively the most attractive girl in the group, but she acts confident in herself and in her appearance, and it works. Lots of guys are attracted to her.  So that’s the first thing- don’t focus on changing yourself (physically or emotionally) in the hopes that you’ll be more confident.  Instead, focus on changing your mindset to that of a confident person.  It will make a huge difference. 

Of course, that’s all easier said than done, and the process of building self confidence can take a while.  In the meantime, while you’re on the journey of actually becoming confident, one thing that can help is “faking it until you make it”.  When you’re going about your day, ask yourself, “how would a confident person who’s never experienced insecurity or anxiety handle this situation”?  Then do what a confident person would do.  If you have a really confident friend, it can help to imagine what they would do in a given situation and then do that.  Pretend everyone you meet already loves you and thinks you’re great.  Pretend like you think you’re great.  It will feel uncomfortable at first, but you’ll start getting used to it and the “confident” responses to things will start feeling normal.  One thing that can make this a little bit easier is to talk to yourself in the second person.  By saying things like “you’ve got this”, your brain will (sort of) feel like you’re receiving advice from somebody else, which is more motivating than getting advice from ourselves.

There are also some exercises you can use to build your self confidence on your own. Some of you have heard this one before, so bare with me, but the first thing I suggest is:  every morning, look at yourself in the mirror and say some things you like about yourself.  I know you probably feel like you can’t find any, but try.  Focus on those things that you like and try to only focus on those things.  Write them down, either physically (on a sticky note on your mirror, maybe) or in your phone.  Each day, try to add a new thing to the list.  When you’re out and about, remember those things that you like about yourself, focus on them, and try to draw attention to them.  When other people compliment you, add those to your list as well.  I think eventually by recognizing all of the things that you like about yourself, you’ll be able to feel like there are things about you that you can be confident in, and you won’t focus so much on the things that you feel are negative.  These don’t have to just be things that are physical.  You should include things you like about your personality as well.

I mentioned this trick the other day, but I want to put it here as well.  A lot of people who are insecure use deprecating humor to cope and as a bid to get other people to like them.  But I think that can be really emotionally damaging.  Like Hannah Gadsby said in Nanette, “I have built a career out of self-deprecating humor, and I don’t want to do that anymore..do you understand what self-deprecation means when it comes from somebody who already exists in the margins? It’s not humility. It’s humiliation. I put myself down in order to speak, in order to seek permission to speak, and I simply will not do that anymore, not to myself or anybody who identifies with me.”  Self-deprecation impacts our self-esteem, and it impacts the way people around us view us.  The more times we say something, even as a joke, the more we start to believe it, and the more the people around us start to believe it.  So instead, make fun of yourself by pretending you’re really, really cocky.  If you trip and fall, instead of saying, “I’m such a disaster”, replace it with “I’m the epitome of grace and beauty”.  If you make a piece of art and you think it sucks, say, “Obviously I’m the next Di Vinci/Michelangelo/whatever.”  If you say something dumb, instead of saying, “I’m so stupid,” say, “I’m clearly the next Einstein.”  You still get to make a joke and diffuse any awkwardness the situation has, but you also get practice saying nice things about yourself.  And eventually, you’ll get so used to saying nice things about yourself as a joke that it won’t feel so weird to say those things about yourself in a serious way, too.

For those people who feel insecure about things they did in their past, try and think of something embarrassing one of your friends has done.  Can you think of anything?  The vast majority of people remember their own embarrassing moments really vividly, but don’t remember things other people have done at all.  Reminding yourself that you’re probably the only one who remembers or cares about the mistake you made can help you let go.  The mistakes you’ve made in the past are learning experiences that you’ve grown from and changed from, and the fact that you’re embarrassed by them is a good thing.  It means that you’re not that person anymore- that you’ve become someone better.  I think that’s something to celebrate instead of something to cringe at.  It can also help to talk to yourself as if you were a friend who’s remembering an embarrassing moment. Would you tell them how embarrassing that moment was and how much they suck?  Probably not.  You’d be nice to them and tell them things will be okay.  Talk to yourself like you would a friend.

The fact that people aren’t paying attention to what you’re doing doesn’t just apply to cringey things you did in your past.  People are unlikely to remember that one time you tried a new hairstyle or wore an unusual piece of clothing.  They’re unlikely to remember that one time you asked someone out and they rejected you.  So many of the social pressures we feel can be remedied by remembering that most people are way too worried about what they’re doing and how they appear to the world to care about what you’re doing. 

One more piece of advice- stop comparing yourself to other people.  The old adage, “comparison is the thief of joy” is totally, scientifically proven to be true.  Comparing ourselves to other people (or to TV shows, movies, characters in books, etc) makes us much less happy because we’re comparing everything we know about ourselves, good and bad, with a curated version of this person.  We don’t see them when they wake up in the morning with crusty eyes and frizzy hair, or when they have the flu, or when they’re overwhelmed and anxious and lashing out at the people around them.  But the truth is that everyone, even the people you think have perfect lives that you see on social media, are just people.  They have bad habits and negative traits and days where they’re not at their best, just like the rest of us.  If you really want to start being confident, one of the best things you can do for yourself is to mute or unfollow the people who make you feel insecure online, and replace them with people who inspire you- artists or activists or cute videos of animals, whatever works.  You’ll never be able to feel good about yourself if you’re constantly tracking all the ways in which you feel you don’t measure up.  But you will if you’re constantly seeing all the ways in which you do.

Last thing. Basic life care stuff, like good posture, exercising, eating well, sleeping well, meditating, and just generally practicing self-care and taking care of yourself can improve your confidence as well.  If you’re not starting on a strong foundation, it’s hard to build anything that will last.  But if your foundation is solid, all of the things you do to build your self-confidence on top of that will be, too.

[mollydollyjournals]

Monday 25th January; 156lbs

I didn't check my body composition today. I just stepped on the scales and left my phone in my bedroom, which means it doesn't send info to the app. So I know that I weigh a little less than the other day, but still way too much.

Toilet tmi again. Im still really constipated and it's actually just fucking painful. The biggest issue is it's not that I haven't been eating. I always try to eat reasonably high fiber (compared to my caloric intake anyway - 8-9g fiber a day isn't much for a normal 2000kcal diet, but it is for 800kcal) and if I need more then I have some particularly high fiber stuff like pulses. Fruit and veg is a good way to go. It's been 3-4 days now so I actually have been eating a bit more to try to make it happen, including higher fiber, but still nothing. I took some stimulant lax last night and still nothing. Had yogurt and coffee and still nothing.

I have this pain in my abdomen too. I suspected some internal bleeding last week or the week before so I'm sure something is up. Just I don't know what I should do about it. I don't want to go back to the doctor and ask them to investigate something else again. I think after my liver scan and blood tests came up fine they'll think I'm lying or exaggerating. I just don't know what's wrong with me. Is it an impaction? Do I have something constructing my intestines? An ulcer? I have really bad acid reflux too. It's like my digestive system is too full and it's just not emptying. My waist feels huge. It makes me actually scared to eat for physical reasons, because if it's not stimulating my gut to move like it should be, then all I'm doing is putting more pressure on my insides.

I'm currently drinking some osmotic lax, which is all I can do. It's what you're supposed to do for impaction. I bought it specifically because I've had these problems before and you're not meant to take stimulant lax, and sometimes it'll resolve itself but it can still be painful and also it'll take longer. Osmotic lax doesn't work fast though - you have to give it a few days. During those few days I'm just reabsorbing waste matter from my intestines. Its disgusting and unhealthy. And when it finally does work, I might have the opposite problem. In the past I've been reluctant to take lax for this because I've had instances where it acted kind of like...a plug. That once it's passed, everything else goes way too fast after it. Sorry that's gross. I guess if anyone wanted more motivation to eat properly it's so your digestive system doesn't get fucked up like this. I noticed a lot of mucus not long ago so maybe the regular mucus layer got stripped and hasn't replenished. Idk.

Other than that there is family drama happening with my brother who is currently in a psych ward and my stupid mother who thinks the sun shines directly out of his anus. My entire life she's treated him like her precious baby and I've just been secondary. Maybe because she associated him with my older brother who died. Who fucking knows. But they're stressing me the fuck out and pissing me off. I keep telling her what to do and what not to do, which I get from trying to properly research his conditions and others similar and from having dealt with her when she was in a psychotic episode, and she just doesn't. She thinks if she just talks nice and loves him enough he'll get better. As if that isn't the whole reason he's a spoiled piece of shit who thought he could take all the drugs with no consequences. This probably sounds very hypocritical from an alcoholic who has trouble not drinking even after physical health problems, but there's much more to it in my brother's case that I cba to go into.

The worst part is she gives him all the attention and understanding that I want and haven't had. I've spent the last few days feeling especially lonely and invisible. I've been talking about it a bit on social media and only a couple of friends responded. Hb came up to my room and saw me crying and basically acted like an awkward dad. Bf hasn't acknowledged much of what I've posted and we still haven't spoken directly. If not for those few friends I might have done something drastic. I don't know. I need to know if I'm actually liked loved and cared for. Missed at all. Lockdown has fucked with it so much and I already had trouble with it. I feel like I need to do something big to get attention. I could just be honest about my feeling like I want to kill myself and see who responds. But I've spoken about it before and people just kind of 'haha same' if that. I don't know if they realise that I'm genuinely close to doing something, or just don't care.

I do have borderline personality disorder and I'm so aware of the stigma. I don't want to be manipulative or abusive. I want people to want to be around me, not because I forced them. I'm so scared of being needy or annoying or overbearing or anything like that. And then if I do say something, I'm already feeling really bad and struggling a lot, so for it to be ignored hurts so much. That's why I end up drinking. I already have trouble seeing my friends post about their struggles and get so much support and love offered, when I get barely any. One of my best friends also has BPD but also everyone loves her. She has a successful small business doing what she loves, if I go anywhere with her strangers stop her and compliment her or ask to take her photo but pretend I don't exist or give me a passing smile. It's not that I don't think she deserves those things or love and support. It's just that I want it too. She's one of the few people who's reached out to me recently and I really appreciate it. I guess she knows how it feels. I just wish I wasn't so jealous.

So for my brother to start saying stuff in the family group chat and my mum to just start fawning over him and all that? Just the extra salt I really didn't need in my wounds. For one thing, I told her not to play into how he is because he'll feed off the drama. I know this because of who he is, that he really is an attention seeker, and that all 3 of us have a tendency to get caught up in things. My brother and I inherit our cluster B personality traits from her. I told her not to get into it and remain impartial. She didn't. I even messaged her and my dad separately and told them that I called the hospital and asked them to check on my brother, but she hasn't given me so much as a thank you.

She's up early for work and I sleep on Mars time, so my dad is still asleep. He'll probably say something when he gets up in a few hours. It all feels backwards. He was so abusive to me growing up. He was unnecessarily strict and horrible to me all the time and kicked me out and disowned me regularly. He tore down my entire sense of self and called me stupid and made sure I realised that if I wasn't doing well it was my own fault and I wasn't trying hard enough. But now he keeps a level head and we reconnected after years of not talking because my brother and mum both had a psychotic episode at the same time a few years ago. I hated him so much but now his approval and support is worth the most. But it's the same problem again - he seems to genuinely realise now that his overly authoritarian parenting was wrong. It's just how it is in a lot of African cultures, and his father was especially abusive, so he wasn't well equipped. He's doing things differently with my younger half brother. But why couldn't it have been me? Why didn't I get to have a nice dad who acknowledges his humanity? My half brother deserves it, but why couldn't I have that while I was growing up too?

It just makes me feel really abandoned. In every situation, there's always someone else who gets what I want, and I don't. I hate my brother so much. I feel like it'd be better if he was dead. But then my mum would spiral, and I'm not really that cold, so I phoned the hospital to talk to them and get them to check on him. Phone calls make me so nervous. I was shaking. Before the call, while I made the call, and for a long time afterwards. I didn't even get acknowledged.

I want a drink.

[prussianvenom]

Angels Mom

Rhys goes to her buddy Angels house for a college project Only to find out that her buddy's mom is not only a superstar But the superstar Rhys has been idolizing for years

(nsfw)

pls accept this hot garbage

“The teacher is such a dick!”

The brunette kicks over a small trash can in anger, 2 smaller figures following behind her in her warpath.

“Let's be fair Rhys, we do, do every other project or assignment together. It's reasonable for them to separate us.” Vana, bless her tiny heart, speaks sense.

Behind Vana was another smaller, mousier girl who followed with stacks of sketchbooks pressed to her chest.

“I’m sorry you can't work with your friend Rhys, but, I’m sure we can do alright on this project together.”

Rhys’ anger melts away. Now feeling like a complete jackass for being so unwelcoming to their other friend.

“Oh damn, no, sorry Angel, it's not that, I love hanging out with you, it's just. UGH, that guy is such a fucking dick.”

“It was pretty unnecessary to put you guys on the spot like that.”

“And make it seem like we don't have any other friends. What an ass!” Rhys stomps a little further ahead. “Anyways, no sense stewing about it. We should start planning out a schedule and stuff. Do you want to come to our dorm? Get a head start on everything?”

“Oh! Definitely, uh, but my mom is probably preparing dinner right now. If you'd like, I’m sure she’ll make enough for another person. If you don't mind coming over.”

Rhys’ face lit up at the promise of a home-cooked meal in lieu of whatever microwaveable shit she and Vana had in their dingy little dorm room.

“Oh hell yeah, are you on your way now?” Angel nods and Rhys turns to Vana. “Guess I’ll see you later tonite bro. Remember, Project Runways on tonite and I swear to God-”

“I won't tape over your stupid show again, it happened once ok!” Rhys chortles and waves her off and follows the other away.

“Ah, I don't have a car, we live pretty close by. That's ok?”

“Oh totally, good cardio or whatever. But like, wow? This neighborhood is like, ivy league houses. That must be like a small fortune, I didn't know you came from such rich blood.” Rhys jests.

Angel giggles. “I guess heh. Ma worked pretty hard to get where she is.”

“You don't say? Now that I think about it, this is the first I’ve heard you say anything about your family before.”

Angel stops and blinks owlishly at her friend.

“I haven't? Huh. I guess it never came up. I don't think I know much about your or Vanas family either.” Rhys nods in agreement. “In any case, since my mom is gonna be around I should let you know that she can be, a, well, a little eccentric.”

“Eccentric?”

“Bitchy.”

Rhys chokes on a sudden burst of laughter at her friend’s blatant rip on her own mom.

“It's true! I mean, according to a lot of guests we have had. She can be kind of abrasive, blunt. She has like no filter.”

Rhys smiles and turns to focus on the neighborhood. She holds back a gasp. They had wandered into the really, really nice part of town. Borderline mansions painted burgundy and trimmed with gold surrounded them. Bentley's and Mercedes parked delicately on gilded brick runways leading down to the road. Not only were these the people who went to their college, but these were also the people that could own the college if they pleased. The ones who did go to their college brown-nosed and bought their way in by the looks of it. Compared to Rhys and Vana who barely made it in by the skin of their teeth and several scholarships.

“Oh man, I was, I was kidding about the whole rich blood thing. You, you guys are like, loaded loaded.”

Angel deflates.

“I guess so, does that change things?”

“No no no! I didn't mean anything by it, it doesn't change anything at all. It's just, like, people that come from places like this aren't as humble and kind as you.”

Angel smiles wide and flushes under the compliment.

They stop at the biggest and gaudiest estate in the neighborhood. The mansion is hideous. It was yellow, trimmed with black, and topped off with both silver and gold accents. Even the gate to the driveway was overly ornate and encrusted with what Rhys hoped to god wasn't actual diamonds. The whole place exuded ‘fuck you’ money. Why else would go this much overboard unless you wanted people to know how much better they were than you? The disgusting palette tells you that they also didn't give a shit what you thought.

“Dear God,” She cocks her head, pleading with her eyes towards her friend. There's no way, there's no way she lives here. “This loaded?” Her voice strains in disbelief.

Angel grimaces and nods.

“It's bright yellow.”

“I know, as I said. She's eccentric.” She turns and pushes a button on a large porcelain keypad attached to the gate.

“Hello?” A burly deep voice answers.

“Wilhelm! Hi! It's Angel, we got out early today, I have a friend with me. Can you let us in?”

“A guest? Does your mom know?” Angel pouts and bristles.

“Well, no, but she's here to collaborate with me on a project for school, cmon.”

“Right, right. I'll be right out.”

“Your dad?” Angel cringes.

“Ew, no, Wilhelm is a family friend. He works as a sort of overall maintenance, security, assistant sort of guy.”

“Fancy.”

A moment later a big hulking statue of a man comes out from the garage on the far side of the house. Way taller than any dude Rhys had ever seen, covered in grease, and the bone structure that looked like it had been chiseled out of stone. He only appears more hulking as he approaches the gate. A shine catches her eye. They both were missing an arm. They share a small look of admiration towards each other's prosthetic, a silent camaraderie.

“Hey, Angel. How was class today?”

“It was alright, this is Rhys, the one I mentioned a while ago.” Wilhelm grunts in acknowledgment.

“Welcome to the Lawrence home, Rhys.” He greets as he opens the gate just enough to let the pair in.

“That guy is terrifying,” Rhys whispers as soon as they're out of earshot.

“Wilhelm? Oh, he’s a big ol sweetheart, once you get to know him. He’s not the one you need to worry about.” Angel carefully opens the door, closing it behind Rhys to make no sound.

“Angel?” A familiar-sounding husky woman voice calls out and Angel curses under her breath.

“Yeah, it's me Ma. I got a friend with me. Is that gonna be alright?”

“Of course baby,”

Then, sidling around the corner of the open dining room was the last person Rhys had ever expected to see in her lifetime. Hand on her hip, standing in the ray of sun, haloed like a golden goddess, was Rhys’ childhood-adulthood idol.

Jacqueline Lawrence.

An actress a long time in the making, recently made CEO some years ago of her own studio company. Not only that, but before her acting days she was a prodigy in the tech department, making her not only gorgeous but a genius beyond her years.

This woman bit and kicked her way to the top, embedded herself on the silver screen to be remembered and loved for generations to come. Adored and wanted by millions, billions even.

And she was Angel’s goddamn mother.

Rhys, knew, as a fan, that Jaq had a child, but it was always hush hush.

It was Angel.

Dear God

“Well, who’s this then?”

The silver fox approaches the duo, each move, each step, exuding confidence and power. Rhys nearly choked. She was floored, flabbergasted. This couldn't be real. She's never dreamed of being this close to this idol. Even at events she couldn't get this close, couldn't even get within arms reach. Yet here she was, even closer than arms reach. If Rhys reached out she could touch her. She briefly wonders if she’d recognize Rhys from all the events, and kind of hopes that she doesn't. She doesn't want to explain to her dear, dear friend that she's dreamed of meeting her mother since before she was even born.

“I’m, I’m, uh,” Rhys tries and fails to clear her throat. “R-Rhys, my name is Rhys. Ma’am”

Jacqueline bears her teeth in a wolfish grin.

“And what are you in school for huh, Rhysie?”

Rhys feels a cold sweat run down her spine.

“Coding and mechanical engineering ma’am.” Rhys mentally high fives herself for not stuttering, then again when she sees the appeased look on the actress’s face.

“Oh yeah? Did some coding myself back in the day. Little bit before I met Wilhelm. Kind of miss it. Maybe you can catch me up on all the new and improved bits, ey kiddo?” She winks and Rhys’ knees nearly crumple.

“I, I would be honored to miss.” Jaq chuckles and claps Rhys on the shoulder.

“Dear Christ this chick is more skittish than you are Angel!. It's freakin precious! Goodness, gracious. She's like a terrified mouse.”

“I'm just a big fan of your work.”

“Oh?” Jaq grins, and grips Rhys’ shoulder a smidge tighter which causes her to shiver, a reaction misinterpreted.

“Hey, kid, relax a little, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. You guys do whatever you need to do, lemme know if you need anything ok?” Jaq then turns to preen her daughter, pinching her cheeks comically before leaving.

The sharp turn throws long tufts of hair in their faces, and Rhys swears she could smell the overpriced conditioner she uses in her wake. She saunters, downright saunters off to where she emerged from and out of sight. The moment she's out of sight Rhys goes to throttle her small friend.

“Hey, Angel, quick question. Why. The. Fuck. Did you not tell me your mom is the goddamn Jacqueline Lawrence!?”

“I, I didn't think it was worth mentioning. I mean, she hasn't been on screen for a good while. Should I have said something?” Angel implores, looking up at Rhys with her big crystally eyes.

How she managed to elude Rhys’ obsession with her mother was astounding. At the same time, she's a bit glad though. There's a chance she wouldn't have invited her over otherwise.

“Just, surprised. Like, really surprised. She's famous, not to mention powerful. Like, make people disappear kind of powerful.”

“Oh, when you put it like that I can see why it could be a little alarming. She's just, never made it out to be a big thing, give me a sort of normal childhood and whatnot.”

“It's ok, crazy. You guys don't even look that much alike.” Angel giggles. “And I was honest back there, I am like a huge freaking fan. I kind of wished you invited me over sooner hehe.”

“Oh? So you can drool all over my mom?”

“No! No no no no, I wouldn't, I would never, I would still hang out with you! That wouldn’t change!”

Angel laughs loudly and gives Rhys a very incredulous look. For a second she could very much see the resemblance of her mother in her. She sets down her stuff and motions for Rhys to follow.

“I’m serious Angel, I do love hanging out with you. She's, she's just, she's my idol.” Angel gives her another dramatically tuned flat look.

“Mhhm, whatever you say, Rhys. You want to set up and get started, I’m going to go take a quick shower ok? Still got art 2’s lesson all over my skin and it's starting to get itchy.”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll sketch out some ideas and stuff.”

“Oh, also, don't be a spaz and weird my mom out.” Rhys mocks offense before flipping the bird at the giggling punk.

Rhys makes herself comfortable in the expansive living room. She makes a little setup, a little Rhys area for herself, to start working. She was so busy fucking around with various weird codes on her laptop that she didn’t notice the encroaching presence coming into her area.

“Quite the setup.” Rhys jumps a foot in the air from where she was sitting

Jacqueline laughs obnoxiously loud and plops across the other in a large lounge chair. She lazily swirls a glass of what Rhys assumes is whiskey in one hand, the other playing idly with the armchair. Rhys’s eyes bulge out of her eyes when she takes in Jacqueline's lounging attire. The shirt. The shirt was silk, buttoned-down to just above her navel, it was thin, white, and translucent. Quite translucent. It barely covered her breasts. She could see the caramel tan of her skin through the milky white. A living wet dream if Rhys ever saw one.

“Looking a little flustered there, kiddo. What’s wrong?~”

Jacqueline’s voice was dripping with accusation. It sent shivers racing up and down Rhys’ spine.

“It's, well, I’m a huge fan. And, it’s just, being near you, It’s crazy for me.” Rhys smiles weakly.

Jacqueline’s expression sours and her voice hardens.

“Is that the reason you hanging around my Angel?”

“Oh! Oh no no no no! Not at all. She, she never mentioned that you were her mother until today. We’re good friends. She just doesn’t talk that much about herself.”

Jacqueline smiles something bright and genuine. Though it’s their first meeting, Rhys feels like she’s seeing something rare and sacred.

“That’s good to hear.” She whispers to herself before chuckling low. The chuckles crescendo into full-blown laughter. “Oh man though, your face. Priceless. People, I’m used to them being antsy, but oh boy do you take the cake. Are you always such a spaztastic disaster?”

“No, well, it’s, you’re my idol. I know that must sound crazy. I’ve followed all your works since you’ve come onto the scene. For years I’ve tried my best to be as confident and stunning as you. I'm sorry. This sounds so cringy doesn't it?"

Already arched eyebrows arch higher.

“All my works huh?”

“Yeah?” Rhys swallows thickly. Jacqueline’s grin grows feral.

“Even the ones from my old coding days?”

Rhys’s eyes go saucer wide and her face drains of color.

So...so that’s why Wilhelm looked familiar to her.

“I..I don’t know wha-.” Jacqueline sits up straight, looking like the cat that got the canary.

“Oh my God! You have!” Jacqueline’s teeth exposed, looking Chesire-like, pure giddiness written all over her. “You’ve seen my pornos holy shit!”

“N-no, I, I mean, I-” Rhys wants to hide.

To run, to die, something to get away from this nightmare. Her first actual meeting with her idol AND her friend’s sister, for it to end up like this, there’s no coming back. She felt sick and buried her face into her hands for some solace.

“Aww, no need to be embarrassed. I was quite the bombshell back then, well, I mean, I still am now, you get what I mean. I’ve always been hot as hell. I’m impressed though. Thought I scrubbed every trace of those bad boys. Made sure none of them would see the light of day. You must have done some hard as hell digging to find those relics.

“They, uh, they were...I paid a lot to get some of them.” Rhys says meekly and confused.

“Holy shit, you serious?”

“To be fair, I didn’t know what was on the tapes when I bought them, I was under the impression they were old exclusives.”

“So what then? You only watched a bit?”

Rhys remains frozen and silent.

“Holy shit.” Jaq leans forward into Rhys space. “You watched all of them didn’t ya?” Rhys bites her lip nervously. Jaq gets even closer. “Did ya get off on them Rhysie?” When Rhys doesn’t answer Jaq continues. “Did you touch yourself?”

Jaq whispers it, with almost reverence. Joy in her voice, like a highschooler finding out her friend's crush. She’s not mad, not angry, not anything like Rhys imagined. She’s teasing her.

Rhys’ breath stills and clumps in her throat and chest. She’s on the border of panic and..arousal? She’s not quite sure. The cold sweat returns with a vengeance.

The silence drags on too long for Rhys’ liking, the way it lingers proving Jaq right about her assumptions.

“Ooo, Rhysie, Rhysie. Your silence speaks volumes.” She leans back, satisfied. Her legs spread wide, authority exudes from her broad form. Her aura reeks of smugness. “How would your friend react if she knew you got off to her mom, hm? That you beat off to videos of her mother getting pounded, huh?”

Panic

Jaq was mad. She deemed her an unfit friend. That or she was disgusted with her.

“God, you’re precious. I can smell your fear from over here. It's been a while since I found anyone this amusing.”

“W-...Really?” Confused again, Rhys chokes out a small reply.

Something flickers in Jaqs eyes, the tiniest bit. Something mischievous. She arches her back, shifts the smallest amount so her shirt falls a little more to the side. Rhys feels like her mind is melting. What the fuck is going on?

“Hm? Uh, yeah, you’re cute darling. Charming, in your own spazzy way. Own it. There’s nothing more dull and irritating than a dumb hot chick.”

“Huh? You, you think I’m cute?”

“Yeah I do, I don’t go around blowing smoke up people's asses unless they can back it up. You’re attractive. Hell, if you put some more work into it you could get heads spinning.”

“You think I’m hot?” Rhys is both stunned and highly incredulous.

“Not only am I saying you’re hot, but I’m also saying you’re sexy. Listen, Honey,” Jacqueline puts a foot on Rhys’s thigh, taking her by surprise. “I’m saying a whole lot more than that.” Jaq finally shrugs off the rest of the shirt, exposing herself to the other woman.

Rhys’s mouth is both dry and wet. If that’s even possible.

“So listen. Mama here hasn’t had any fun as of late. Would you like to change that for me Rhysie?~”

“But, but, what about Angel?” The protest felt weak even coming out of her mouth as she leaned against the foot and towards the woman.

“It’s pretty scummy of me ain’t it?” Jacqueline grins wickedly. “You can say no Cupcake...Just so you know, regardless of what she says, her showers always take half an hour or more. She wouldn’t catch us.”

“We...We shouldn’t.” Rhys has to force the words out.

“Ohhh, but when will you get the chance again?” She lazily draws a line across her chest down to the hem of her pants.

That was the straw to the camel's back for little ol Rhys. The brunette throws away the rest of her inhibitions and lurches at the woman. She shoves her face eagerly between the star’s breasts and grabs them by the handfuls. Jacqueline laughs at Rhys’s enthusiasm and tangles her hand in the silky brown hair. Rhys moans at the little tugs she's given as she sucks and licks the others tits.

“Ooh, hehehe. That didn’t take a lot of convincing did it, huh?”

Rhys doesn’t respond to the jab, just grunts as she licks a nipple into her mouth. Jacqueline purrs and tightens her grip in Rhys’s hair. Rhys whimpers and opens her mouth to moan, drooling onto Jaqs chest.

“You’re a sloppy little bitch yknow that?” Rhys whines against Jacqueline’s warm flesh. She rises on her knees to further bury her flushed face away. “Ohoho. Sounds like somebody enjoys a little demeaning.~”

Rhys looks up at the older woman with big glossy mismatched eyes. Embarrassment etched hard unto her young features.

“I-I-”

“Shh doll, I ain’t judgin.” Jaq waves dismissively and peers down at the other. “Besides, you’ve seen all the crazy shit I got into and got off to. No need to be coy.”

Her hand yanks Rhys head back with a jolt. Jacqueline leans in and kisses the center of Rhys’s throat and whispers. “Let go Babydoll. Go on and tell me what you want.

Rhys’s breath comes out in loud broken gasps.

“I wanna...I wanna taste you. Want to make you feel good.” Rhys manages to get through harsh staccato breaths.

“Oh? Fan of carpet munching are ya?”

Jaq leans back and spreads her thighs to accommodate the other. She waves her hand in a gesture to give Rhys the go-ahead. The brunette tentatively grasps powerful thighs. She takes a moment to savor the heat coming off her before going for the zipper. Jacqueline follows the movement with her eyes. Lifts her hips for the younger to peel off the jeans. Smiling, taunting, as Rhys’ pale hand snakes over her thighs, shaking and nervous. Yellow satin panties, expensive no doubt, was the last thing that stood in Rhys’s way. The last barrier to a fantasy she had been living out in her head for almost a decade now.

Jacqueline picks up on Rhys increasing tension and guides Rhys’s hands to the cloth.

“Don’t mean to be a bitch here cupcake, but huh,” Rhys’s hand is pushed against the crotch of the panties. “ Can we get on with it?”

Rhys nods her head frantically and pulls the golden fabric down toned legs. It was a lot for her to take in. Her idol, the centerpiece of her infatuation, was sitting naked in front of her, legs spread, wet cunt right there for the taking. Rhys had to take a moment to thank whatever God allowed this to happen.

Rhys carefully leans forward and licks between her lips. Jaq bucks up into the contact.

“Stop pussyfooting,” Jacqueline growls. “Get on with it.”

Jaq fists Rhys hair again in an attempt to bring the other in closer. A shame. Rhys wants to take her time though. Regardless of the sensitive time situation they’ve been handed. She wanted to live it out to the fullest, remember every little detail. The knuckles against her scalp insisted otherwise. The first real violent tug of hair had Rhys jaw unhinged and moaning loudly. The noise vibrated against the others clit, eliciting a delicious reaction. Jacqueline rolls towards the sensation and chirps.

“Oooh, there we go!~” Jaqs voice was dripping with sex and mirth. “You dirty masochistic bitch.”

Rhys whimpers, drags her tongue flat against her clit, closes her lips around the nub, and sucks hard. Jaq swears and grinds her pussy against the student’s face.

“Finally~ That’s a good girl.”

Rhys whimpers at the honeyed purr. Her hand itches to palm the seat of her pants. Something to ease her own need. Rhys decides against it, this was more about Jacqueline than anything else. The woman in question is humming languid moans while she continues to fiddle and thread Rhys’ mangled hair.

Jaq shifts her leg. Then again. Rhys doesn't pay attention. Figures she's trying to get comfortable and whatnot, that is, until she feels the heel of her foot press against her inner thigh. She detaches from Jaqs cunt when the pressure slides to her crotch. She gasps roughly when the older woman grinds her foot roughly against her. Rhys collapses unto Jacqueline's knee.

“You are a cute little thing Rhysie.” She jerks the young woman by her hair, pulling her back into a straight position.

“C’mon darling.”

Rhys feels tears building in the corner of her eyes. This was becoming increasingly too much for her. It was overwhelming. Rhys tries to yank herself out of her grip. She feels frantic, desperate to get back to what she was doing. Jaq lets her drop and Rhys eagerly pushes her face back in between the actress’s thighs. Tongue delving back in, this time straining to push it in as far as it goes.

“H, Hey Rhys,” Jaq breathes out hotly. “You gotta be dying down there. Go, go wild baby.” She slides her calves up in between Rhys’s thighs. Rhys catches on after a dull moment. She glances up at matching heterochromatic eyes, searching for any signs of deceit. Jaq sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically. She fists her hand against Rhys scalp, the tightest she's gripped this whole time, and pulls so violently that Rhys feels strands rip out.

“I want you to get off against my leg Rhys. I want you to rut against my leg like the little bitch in heat you are. Show me. Show me what a pathetic and desperate slut you are. I want you to do all that while eating me out. Do you understand me, you fucking whore? Show me how big of a fan you are.”

Rhys is frantic now. Her whole body feels like there's a live current going through her. Jacqueline's words have her reeling. Her throat was too dry and her mouth was too wet. She nods dumbly and quickly. Her technique is sloppier and quicker with the addition of her embarrassing humping. She clamps the calf in her thighs, one of her spare hands gripping the meat of her leg with an iron grasp. The contact is a wave of relief for the student. She's already keyed so far up to the edge she fears she won't be able to hold on for more than a couple of minutes of frotting.

The situation is beyond surreal.

Jaq laughs airily. Just as breathless as Rhys at this point.

“Fuc-Fucking disgusting. Like a goddamn d-fuck-dog. God.~ You love it don't you,” Jacqueline looks at her with almost reverence. “Love being a disgusting needy little girl huh?~ Love being treated like a worm? Like dirt?” Jacqueline's words were rough, barely there, overshadowed by gruesome thrusts against Rhys’s face.

Rhys whined. The words bounced around her skull like a malfunctioning pinball machine. It left her too hot, too wet, and too horny to think or care about anything else. The stimuli has tears near spilling down her ruddy cheeks.

“God, you even like being talked down to. That's so goddamn pathetic.” Jacqueline moans through a cruel laugh. “You’re even crying.” She titters with delight.

Rhys realizes she's right with a sob. The tears had started to stream down her hot, hot face. She could only imagine how she looked to her idol right now. Hair in disarray, face red and covered in tears and sweat, whining grossly, all while sloppily fellating her and humping her leg like a dog.

She couldn't deny any of it either. Every word, every hurtful syllable, was right. They were doing it for her. Doing it for her so deliciously. They only added to the hot pool in her belly threatening to spill. Through trial and error, inspiration drawn from Jaqs seedy movies, she had found she was indeed, a little more, if not completely into, being degraded and punished.

Rhys feels the time biting away at their heels, they need to finish this off, and soon.

Unfortunately.

She uses her robotic hand to thumb against the older woman's clit. The cold untouched metal makes the actress jump and gasp. She giggles in unfound glee, like she had just discovered something new about herself.

“That's it! That's a good girl~.”

Rhys didn't know if it was how she sounded or if she also responded well to praise, but she drooled more. She curls her tongue and speeds up her movements with her thumb. Jacqueline arches her back and throws her head into the plush cushions of the chair.

“F-fuck, faster. Faster, kid.” Jacqueline had abandoned her hair and was now pulling at her shoulders.

Rhys lets her grip with her flesh hand go and pushes 2 fingers in along with her tongue. She could feel now, how hot and wet the tan woman's pussy was. She could feel the fine ridges of muscle spasming and clenching deliciously around her fingers.

Jacqueline holds back a shout. She plants her feet on the ground and buck into the stimulus with wild abandon. Her hands hold Rhys’ head down as she finally and abruptly comes. Rhys makes a high pitch sound to accompany Jaq’s gleeful growl.

Once she goes slack into her armchair Rhys hastily shoves her hand into her pants to rub her need. She barely manages to get her hand into underwear in her rush. She was soaking through the cotton. She was wet, so very wet. She vaguely recalls hearing Jaq groan above her.

“Well, ain't that a pretty sight. You close cupcake?” Rhys nods, absentmindedly aware of the words coming out of her mouth. “You gonna come without even thanking me for all this?”

Rhys doesn't even pause her manic frotting when she lays her cheek on Jaqs bare leg. She rises to her knees, so she can slip a finger into her hot pussy.

“Y, yes, thank you. Thank you so, so much miss.” Jaq laughs.

“For what?”

“ Thank you, thank you for l-letting me eat you out, miss.” Jacqueline hums happily. Pleased.

She grabs Rhys by the short hairs on her neck to tear her off her knee. She knocks the younger woman to the floor, rises to tower over her. Before Rhys can react Jacqueline's hand comes to wrap around her throat. The sudden vice forces Rhys to stare into Jaqs predatory gaze. She looked even more feral than before. Running her tongue over her teeth and lips, she looks down on her like a hungry wolf.

“Come,” Rhys body jerks at the command. “Come for me, Rhys.” The fingers around her throat tighten ever so slightly.

The sudden cut off from air has Rhys’ eyes rolling into the back of her head and her body rippling with new sickening pleasure. Her body tightens up violently. Her hands stutter and shake as they try to keep up with the high that hits her like an off railed roller coaster.

When her body finally stops convulsing Jacqueline drops her like a sack of bricks. While she lay there, capturing her stolen breaths, the other straightens up and goes back to redressing. She does it slowly, contemplatively. Maybe it's because of the post-orgasmic hue, or the high from lack of air, or even because the dream-like state of it all, but Rhys found herself taking in the mundane movements with newfound reverence. The smooth calculated way she buttoned the silk shirt back up without fail. The modeled pose of her body as she leans down to retrieve her pants and underwear. The almost sinful way she pulls them back up smooth tan legs. It makes her want to undress all over again.

Jacqueline smiles when she turns back towards the puddle of woman that was Rhys. She sighs and straddles the destroyed woman. The expression almost looks like one of sympathy.

“Hey princess, you still there?” Rhys nods,” You should fix yourself up. Wouldn't want your friend to see you looking like a two-bit whore.”

She tries to smooth down the mess she had made of Rhys’s hair, to no avail. Rhys experiences the intimate touch through a fog, but she holds unto to it as much as she can before it's gone. Jaq frowns when the hair doesn't quite cooperate with her. It wasn't perfect but at least she didn't look like someone was trying to tear her hair out anymore. She grimaces again and wipes Rhys’s mouth and chin with her sleeve. A sleeve to a shirt that probably costs more than Rhys’s entire outfit. It was a very motherly touch, Rhys thinks warmly.

“God, you look like a dog. Do you always slobber so much?” Jacqueline stands back up and gestures Rhys to finish fixing herself up.

“N, no. I don't think so.” Rhys mumbles, finally coming back to reality.

“Like, for real. Do you give blowjobs like that? Or do you skip the middleman and spit on the guys' dick. Jee-”

While Jacqueline continues spouting some convoluted and insulting monologue Rhys carefully stands. She was still out of it. She felt like a newborn deer finding their footing. This had all happened and ended so quickly it feels as though it almost never happened at all. Why had it happened? Was something Jaq did often? Rhys feels as if she would know, given the tabloid’s involvement in the entertainers' life. Why Rhys of all people?

Rhys regards her mutely in the dim light coming through the windows. Her berating voice a smooth white noise.

She was beautiful.

Rhys had always thought so, long before any fragments of a crush began to form. She was an ideal. Even while she portrays herself as crude and unforgiving, an icy queen to be trifled with. Even now while she picks on the person she just accosted for sex.

But

She was never supposed to be attainable though. Nothing more than a perfected idol. Never more than a dream.

Rhys' heart twists uncomfortably in her chest.

“Ms. Lawrence?” Jaq turns, a cigarette loosely hanging from her lips, brows arched. “What…” Rhys fidgety plays with her sleeve. “What was this?”

Jacqueline's frowns and turns solemn. Quietly she lights it and takes a long thoughtful drag. She lets the silence grow and fester as she billows out smoke around her. With a cigarette between long fingers, she approaches Rhys. She gives Rhys an authentic smile and leans up to kiss the brunette softly. It felt out of character for the other. There was no heated fervor, no urgency. It was so delicate. Gentle. A kiss you give to a leaving lover.

It causes the uncomfortable feeling in Rhys’ chest to double. It makes her chest feel hot and sickeningly heavy.

“It can be what you need it to be.” Jacqueline delicately holds Rhys face in her hands. “A fling, a dumb wet dream, an anonymous letter to penthouse forums, whatever. But, above all, Rhys, it needs to be our secret.”

“Our secret?”

“Just for you.” A door shuts upstairs and both women startle. Jaq turns dead stoic and holds Rhys’ chin firmly.

“If she finds out, or if you hurt her, I’ll slit your goddamn throat, capiche?” Jaq winks playfully.

Footsteps approach down the stairs. Jacqueline moves to distance herself from Rhys, who hurriedly goes back to her spot.

“Mom! What did I say about smoking inside! You know how much it agitates Tammy’s asthma.” Angel chirps as she emerges back into the living room. Jaq rolls her eyes at the name.

“It's my own house,” Jaq mumbles. “But I guess I’ll go outside. Wouldn't want to upset Tamithas delicate lungs.” Jaq waves and leaves once again.

Angel shakes her head and plops down next to Rhys.

“She didn't bother you, did she? I told you she can be well, from what I’ve been told, a bitch.” Angel whispers and giggles.

Rhys still dumbfounded by what had taken place in the last hour and a half, shook her head no. Jacqueline's parting words between the two of them still echoed in her head.

A secret. Just for Rhys.

“Uh, no, she was giving me some insight into some code I was working on.”

“Oh yeah? That's great. She's usually not so nice to guests. It's good to see she hasn't run you off.” Angel laughs.

A secret.

yeehaw

[into-control]

submission:

I've not told this story before, but it's so weird. When I was 17, I worked part-time at my dad's business. There was this man who worked there too called Adam. Adam was technically only in his mid 20s, but you would not look at this guy and think he was in his 20s. He literally looked and acted like he was in his 30s. He was overly-serious and was one of those guys that expects women to be "well-behaved". Literally the type of guy that would slutshame a woman for showing her shoulders. 

He was good friends with my dad, but we weren't friends. We barely ever even spoke to each other. The very same week that I turned 18, Adam came to talk to me and asked me to be his girlfriend. Not even asking me out on a date! He deadass just directly asked me if I'd be his girlfriend! When we'd never even had a proper conversation before! He didn't even lead up to it first. I was so creeped out. I felt like he'd just been waiting for me to turn 18. I politely told him no, and he wasn't too pleased about it, but he didn't push it too much. 

The next day, my dad came to me and started telling me things like, "Adam's a really nice person, you know" and "Did you know Adam's looking for a girlfriend?". I was suspicious and asked my dad what was going on. Turns out that after I'd rejected him, Adam had gone to my dad and asked my dad to try to convince me to give him a chance. What the hell! Who does that! And my dad said yes 🤦.

But I firmly told my dad that I definitely wasn't interested, and my dad went and told Adam that. He didn't directly ask me out again after that, but he regularly used to hover around and just... watch me. I worked with the office team in a small part of the building, and there was a window in the wall in front of us. In front of that wall was the entrance area to the building. He worked upstairs, so there was no reason for him to be down there. But I would look up sometimes and literally see him standing at that window and looking through it directly at me. It would give me the fucking creeps, but I'd just smile at him (it probably looked more like grimacing tbh) and then get on with my work and hope he'd leave.

He also did so many weird things that made me feel uncomfortable. Like one time, he followed me on Instagram, liked every single one of my posts (I had like 800 posts that went back years), and then he came to me the next day and told me that I shouldn't be so trusting with guys (I had a few photos with male friends) because "men only want one thing" and "they're just trying to take advantage of you". One thing he actually said was, "Not all men are like me" AS IF THAT WAS A BAD THING. AS IF HE WAS SOME KIND OF PERFECT MODEL RESPECTFUL MAN 🤦🤦🤦. I remember thinking, "Thank god" when he said that.

He also used to tell me things along the lines of "I can tell you're a good girl", "I like how you're the shy, innocent type", "I wish all girls were like you", etc. I think he genuinely thought that he was complimenting me and that I would be flattered 

One time, he texted me. I was horrified at the idea of him having my number. Found out he'd asked my dad for my number, and my dad had given it him. I was so mad, I actually had a huge argument with my dad over it. I told him he had no right to give my number out to people without asking me first. Dad told me I was overreacting and that it wasn't a big deal and that "he's a nice man". 

I just never replied to any of his messages and started shooting him annoyed looks at work until he thankfully FINALLY took the hint and gave up. He even stopped coming and watching me while I was working. I was so relieved, even though it took him several months longer to give up than it should have 

He was so weird! I'm 20 now, and I still see him around occasionally, and it's so awkward. I always pretend I don't see him lol. He's somehow managed to get himself a girlfriend now which is actually bizarre to me. I kinda feel sorry for her, even though I've never met her, because this guy is literally one of those controlling types that doesn't even want their girlfriend having male friends. But to each their own I guess 🤷

————

he sounded like a fucking incel

[mimi-sanisanidiot]

Love is wild sometimes, ain't it?

Do you ever feel like you're in love with someone that you can't have?

I am, more often than I'd like to admit.

I'm in love with my best friend. And I can't have her. Because she's in love with our other best friend. And it hurts. So damn much.

Hi, my name's Mimi and I'm a fucking dumbass, welcome to my tedtalk!

For the sake of anonymity of my friends, I'll refer to them as Bean, and Mochi. We're all female so here we are.

I met both Bean and Mochi in my first year of highschool. I met them separately in mutual classes and I found out we're all mutal friends. Bean was in my art class and we were on opposite ends of the room, but always in the view of one another. When I first saw Bean, she confused me so much. Bean is rather tall for a girl and has a slim thick frame, due to her androgynous style of clothes and fluffy short hair, she's often confused as a boy. Which works for her style. At the time, me being a still blind lil gay in the making, couldn't tell if she was a boy or a girl due to being so far away. But honestly it never bothered me. Still Bean confused me so much!! One day she'd be in baggy male clothing and the next she was in a crop top with a skirt and knee high socks! Either way she made my heart race! I didn't care if she was a boy exploring her style and identity or a girl having fun with her outfits or anything in between. So one day, I gathered the courage to finally walk up to her and complimented her My Chemical Romance t-shirt that she wore often, after class. I was never the kind of girl who made friends easily but could make conversation with any stranger if I truly tried to.

So saying that, you can obviously see that I as a new freshman tried to become friends with this beautifully intimidating human being by pointing out the most teenager angsty thing a teenager can wear to show how angsty they are! The cliche of teenager angst, My Chemical Romance!!! That aside, this would be my first official real conversation with her, aside from the shy hi's and nervous excuse me's that we often exchanged when we passed by and bumped into each other during class in accident. So you can see where this is going. I obviously made a fool of myself trying to speak clearly and loud enough for her to hear me as I walked by her on the way out of class, keep in mind most kids were trying to leave and they were quite loud since the door was near her desk. She hadn't heard me so she asked me to repeat myself, while I was panicking on the INSIDE! I did repeat myself, while stuttering a bit and my subtle lisp wasn't so subtle anymore! I was dying.. I wanted to bolt out that door and hide in my corner and never emerge again. But she was so nice.. She just smiled so sweetly and so kindly at me seeing that I was freaking out about my inability to speak properly at the moment, it surprised me honestly. No one other than my parents had looked at me like that but my parents hadn't comforted me about my stuttering since I was a child. And here she was, this awkwardly shy giant was smiling at me, making me feel so much better and still making my heart race. I felt myself smile back a bit and nodded and turned to make my way out of class. But she stopped me, she had then complimented my Attack on Titan button and my Spirited Away button my backpack, which made me so happy! She knew who these characters were and she complimented me on them. No one, not even my friends, said anything about them. They never noticed them, nor did they like anime. So to have Bean notice them and say she liked them, made my day.

Soon after that, I asked her if she'd like to join me for lunch and she did.

We hit it off immediately! We're both dorks and nerds about different childhood shows and random nerd stuff. Not only that, we both looove food! And we also connected on the fact that we're huge romantics and are girls on the slightly heavier and tall side too. We became close friends and hung out at lunch almost everyday. Up to this point, I was always by myself at lunch since all my other friends had 1st lunch and Bean and I had 2nd lunch. I was alone and then, I wasn't. Bean had made me her friend and that made a difference in my life for the better. I had dealt with a traumatic incident in my last year of middle school so i don't doubt that Bean practically saved my life my freshman year, even if she doesn't realize that but that is a story for another time. She also introduced me to some of my closest friends now. So I have her to thank for that. I soon realized that I had a huge crush on her that I feel like was really obvious but not to either of us. But that doesn't matter, since I never confessed and she had her boyfriends and people she dated as we grew closer. Although it hurt me, it made me happy just seeing her happy. And I was there to help her feel better when things didn't work out in the end. And that made feel happy just knowing she was happy and that I made her feel comfortable enough to come to me for help. So I too had dated a few people and had my heart broken quite a few times but my heart had always beated a bit faster when I thought of her.

My love for Bean only grew as the years pasted. But as did the growing friend zone between us. So I pulled an Angelica Skylar and was just happy that I could keep her in my life.

My bond with Mochi had also grown throughout the years despite us being different in multiple ways. Mochi sometimes gets overly comfortable sometimes and it ticks me off sometimes but she means well. The three of us have late night adventures and loads of sleep overs and have fun gushing about music and cute people, both male and female and nonbinary peeps! It's fun.

Back to my main simp story and not my sad friendzone gay shit.

The three of us are quite open with our sexuality and feminine charms, ya know? We flirt with each other often, it's always been part of our banter. We also playfully grope/fondle each other when ever we're together. The fondling occurs more often than not when we're with Mochi. Sure we all initiate it at some point but when Mochi is hanging out with either of us, she's the main instigator. We're all chill about it cause titties are nice, and so are soft thighs and love handles! We all like the soft plush!! We all drink body appreciation in this household!!

Mochi is fantastic! I love her so much! But she also becomes unresponsive to group moments sometimes.. Like we would all be chilling watching a movie or something, like maybe having a conversation and then she'd be off by herself always on her phone and never reacts to anything we say. When she stays over, she sleeps way in, past what we decided, and is inconsiderate of if either one of us have any other plans that day. We plan to have a sleep over of one day and she stays for 3. I can never ask her to leave cause I was always raised with my home is open for those who need it but one can also overstay their welcome. And I absolutely despise confrontation. It makes me uncomfortable and makes me feel like I'm the dick, even when I know that I'm in the right.

But that's besides the point. I love them, I truly do. I'm just weak against my friends when it comes to my own comfort sometimes. That's something I'm working on currently.

So you see, these are my best friends, yes they are flawed but so am I. Yet I absolutely love them.

Mochi had invited both Bean and me to a whole weekend trip with some of her friends that she wanted to introduce to us. Sadly I couldn't attend having already used my day out of that week the day before she had asked. But Bean went. They had a blast, drinking and going out to the shopping district of the beach town they went to. Not in that order obviously. They were safe and locked themselves in their hotel room when they began drinking and hadn't went out once they began. I'm not going to lie here, it hurt not being able to go because I was excited to meet Mochi's friends and hang out and have drink to let loose for once, you know?

But when they came back, Bean had kinda went off the grid. She wasn't responding to group chats nor private messaging. At first I thought, oh she's busy and she'll get back to me later so no sweat right? Wrong.. She never did. And when I'd check out our messages, she only left me on seen and that's it. Then I'm like, did I do something wrong or is she doing okay? Turns out, she's fine. But I wouldn't have known that if it weren't for Mochi. Mochi had told me something that broke my heart more than it did finding out Bean was in love with a toxic manipulating piece of garbage with mommy issues and she was sacrificing her own mental well being to help a human dumpster fire. Again that's another story for another time.

So this is it, it hurts to know the person I've been in love with for almost 6 years, had kissed my best friend and has admitted to a stranger, while drunk, about how much she wants to get with said best friend. Never.. Never did it occur to me, that she ever felt that way towards Mochi, and that she also kissed Mochi while Mochi was and still is with her boyfriend.

I don't know what hurts more, the drunk confession to a stranger, the kiss or that she didn't tell me her feelings for Mochi.

I know that I'm not entitled to her feelings nor her explanation nor ever lil detail of her life. Because that's not healthy nor is it right. I know that the only person at fault here is my own toxic mentality. But I still worry sometimes okay..?

I was worried that she was having a bad time and she was by herself.

I was worried that something had happened to her.

I was worried that she had had enough of me, and was simply trying to figure out a way to end our friendship without trying to be mean about it..

I was worried that she simply hated me and wanted me out of her life for good and was simply ghosting me until I got the hint...

Maybe that I had done something to have upsetted her..

I just guess that Bean didn't need my prying and needed time to collect her thoughts.

But at the very least, she could have done was send me a message. Like "I'm fine, need time to collect myself, ttyl" or something...!

My own intrusive thoughts are bad enough, but worrying about whether or not, my best friend is alright is too much!!

I dont even know! Maybe I'm the ass in this scenario! With my own toxic pensive ideals and my overbearing personality. Maybe I shouldn't project my feelings towards my best friends and maybe just fucking grow up and move on from something that will clearly never happen!!!

Maybe I should simply get over it..

But it hurts, so much..

Because maybe I missed my shot at ever being able to confess to Bean.. Because I'll never know if she ever felt the same, that I'll never know if I had a chance at all... All because I was too scared to lose my best friend...

Now I might lose both of them if they don't work their feelings out... Maybe I'm just a pathetic piece of garbage.

I have no clue how I'm supposed to act anymore. Mochi is still with her boyfriend, Bean is in an emotional limbo and needs to collect herself and I'm an emotional mess.

If anyone has any advice on what I should do or how I should proceed, please let me know.

I have dinner with them in an hour, and I'm scared.

Thank you if you made it this far, I appreciate that you're willing to read a strangers love life or the lack of one and follow their rant. I hope you all have a great day, evening, or night, stay hydrated and tell your loved ones that you love them before it's too late.

Please learn from my own mistakes. If anyone likes this, then let me know and I'll tell you more about my pathetic love life stories and my pining over my best friend.

[peachyteabuck]

study buddy, pt iii

series summary: after crushing on you since freshman orientation, Natasha finally gets the guts to ask you help you pass her postmodern lit midterm, to which you agree.

chapter summary: after an eventful night, there are things you have to accomplish at the library...alone. 

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 4,365

trigger warnings: explicit talk of sex work, heavy sexting, smut (incl. fingering, oral sex (F receiving), strap ons, mdlg, humiliation), angst if you REALLY squint

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

part one, part two

You and Natasha stayed like that, her entire body wrapped tightly around you. After sleeping alone for basically the entirety of college, you enjoyed the closeness. It was hard to fall asleep, given how intimate you were to someone you’ve been fantasizing about for, you know, forever. Natasha fell asleep first, mouth pressed onto the back of your neck and hand laying across your waist. When her breath evened against your burning skin and you found the perfect angle to admire the posters on her wall, your own eyes droop closed (what can you say, being the little spoon makes you feel...safe. Also, you hadn’t had sex in a long time and you’re very tired of the mix of solitude and the post-orgasm haze).  

When your weekend morning alarm went off, it took everything inside of you not to throw it against the far wall. You played softball for one season in eighth grade and still had pretty good aim, you could probably hit the very center of a beat-up dart board about four feet up from the round. Luckily, you were able to constrain yourself enough to just hit snooze a few times.

Natasha, annoyed by your overly-adorable alarm song (hey, Ed Sheeran is a great artist to wake up to! The guitar calms you as the reality of the crushing weight of your own self-expectations crashes upon you), pushed you to get out of bed. “C’mon, babe you definitely have something to do. And that’s like, one of his worst songs and I need it to stop.”

You shrugged. The Google calendar alert that flashed across your screen notifies that you did, indeed, have to get up and do something. You groaned at the thought of being productive, flopping back down while you told yourself that Zizek would want you to do stay in bed.

Isn’t the only way to defeat capitalism to become unproductive? You’re studying for the next quiz, you tell yourself, even as Natasha starts pushing at the bottom of your spine to get you off the mattress. You’re just experimenting with different ways of destroying the most invasive and deadly economic system. Wait...is capitalism just an economic system, or is it more of a way of life? Can capitalism merely be described as an organizational system and a way to categorize the exchange of goods and services for monetary compensation without influence from government(s)? And like, do humans control the market, or the does the market simply own us like little pawns or a bunch of dumb, yappy puppies? What even is the market? Is the market a finite thing or is it some indescribable, infinite theory? Is it, like the universe, becoming infinitely larger by the minute?

Finally, you sat up, discontented by your own incredibly existential train of thought. As you got up and stretched, you could feel your worn muscles aching and joints popping obscenely loudly. As you bent to crack your back, a dull but satisfying pain started to spread through your body. You couldn’t tell if it was Natasha’s sub-par bed frame or her extraordinary sex kills; either way, though, you’re going to need some painkillers before you leave.  

Searching for clothes was...much harder than you anticipated. The pink cotton underwear and matching lace bralette you had pulled on in the middle of the night stood out against the grey cinder block walls, the smoke stains on the ceiling, the deep brown floors. Starkest of all, you were an anomaly amongst the piles and piles of dark clothes. Like a sunflower that’s sunken down to the bottom of the ocean, a ray of sunshine deep within a cave, a small baby animal stuck in a concrete cage.

Still - for whatever reason - you couldn’t find your clothes from the day previous. You would’ve screamed if it wouldn’t further disturb the half-asleep Nat. Why didn’t you just bring clothes with you, you knew were going to be staying over! You even thought far ahead enough to wear a matching underwear set. But no! No, of course you couldn’t just pack an extra skirt and tank or top or something else in your bag. Or even just a toothbrush, or floss, or some fucking gum, because of course you were out of gum. Of course, you were.

Good job, scholar.

After ten minutes of desperate, fruitless searching, you finally accepted your fate of wearing Natasha’s clothes for the day. Sighing, you grabbed a pair of (hopefully) clean workout shorts and a worn hoodie from a band you’ve never heard of and take them into the bathroom to shower.

It was stereotypical, something out of a scene in a shitty romance movie: You wear her clothes as a sign you’re really in love or something, and then she sees how hot you look in clothes you’d normally never be caught dead in, then she fucks you nice and slow with one of those cute white strap ons while she moans into your ear everything she wants to do to you.

Maybe she won’t be fucking you, maybe you’ll ride her dick, or thigh, or her fingers so she can maintain a good look at your in her soft sweatshirt, or maybe-

Fuck, the short and hot shower needed to turn into a long and cold one real quick. A long one. A very, very long one. That also needs to be cold. Did you mention that it needed to be long? And freezing?

When you trekked into the kitchen, you found the cupboards mostly empty. You were able to track down some bread to make toast and discover an egg in the back of the fridge, so you shouldn’t have been be excruciatingly hungry until you could get back to your food-filled apartment. You could pick up a snack on the way to the library if you get hungrier, anyway. Everything should be fine. It’s fine! Everything is fine. You even found some pepper and rosemary, that had to be a good sign.

About halfway through your tiny (and minimally satisfying) meal, Natasha emerges from the bathroom (that’s weird, considering you never noticed her come out of the bedroom). Her sides were fixed, and she had makeup on. Nice makeup on. The soft orange eyeshadow, white eyeliner, blush, bright highlighter, and pink lipstick made her look...sweet, kind, approachable. Her usual outfit had been replaced with black dress pants, black heels, a black dress shirt, and a burnt orange cardigan. You’d guess she’d be dressing for work, or an internship. You watch her closely as she moved behind you and wraps her arms around your waist. Natasha rested her chin on your elbow and pouts, silently asking for a bite of your breakfast like a pitiful dog.                         .

Reluctantly, you broke off a piece and fed it to her. She grinned as she chews, then kissed your fingertips as she swallowed. “That’s good,” she mumbled.

“Th-thanks,” you managed to get out, still inert at the feeling of her lips on such sensitive skin. In that moment parts of that night flashed in front of your eyes, including when she shoved four fingers into your mouth and told you to prep them for when they’d be inside you. You stuff the last of the bread and egg into your mouth to stop yourself from saying something stupid, sexual, or both. Also, from moaning. But mostly from talking and embarrassing yourself.

Sweet Jesus, you needed to get out of there.

Natasha still hadn’t moved from behind you and pressed her crotch into your bruised ass as she speaks. “You look amazing in my clothes,” she whispered in your ear, nibbling at your earlobes. It was hard to moan and chew at the same time, but she still got the picture as you choked on your half-chewed breakfast. Natasha giggled, a stark contrast to the heat behind her voice. “Look almost as pretty as you did last night,” it sent shivers down your spine. “All spread out and begging for me to touch you.”

You swallowed and whimpered, reminded of the night you two spent together. More memories flooded your brain all at once:

Her standing over you as you babbled for her to “take it, take it Natasha it’s yours it’s all yours please take it.” Her barely touching you with a vibrator while she mumbles how cute you look when you’re a struggling, desperate mess. Her complimenting your high-pitched whines when you’re begging for her to fuck you again, and again, and again and...

“Natasha, please,” you pleaded. You didn’t want to pull away, too entranced with the thought of more time along with Natasha. Still, if you had a sliver of a chance of getting done what needed to be done that day, Natasha would’ve had to let you go first. “I need to go study at the library.”

Natasha stopped peppering kisses on your neck and shoulder to smirk. “Oh, please. You have a whole day off, and I don’t have to leave for work for another hour. We can afford to spend a little more together.”

You sighed as you scrunched your eyes shut and bite your bottom lip. You wanted that so much, so fucking much, but that study session wasn’t a regular one that you can just blow off. You couldn’t just push this work aside and make up the time missed the next day.

That day was that time where you look at all the commissions people have applied for and pick the ones you want to do. You normally only did it once a month, but your rent was almost due, along with student loans and some repairs required around your apartment and you were anticipating your mother’s birthday gift costing a lot (on account of your guilt) and you were hoping to buy some new sticky notes and your favorite pens were almost out of ink and-

In short, you needed money and you needed it now.

That was usually a thing you make into a little time with just yourself; you made some sort of day of it. You’d go to the library, pick one of those secluded rooms where no one can bug you for a few hours, put on the large headphones you only use for when you get super intense in your studying, and listen to your favorite music. You’d track everything in gorgeous marble-patterned notebook you use especially for planning commissions, with some inspiration quote in golden lettering along the front. In it, you’d track stuff props needed, when you’d do the commissions, how much money you’d charge, if there was anything that money needed to go to, if you have to spend anything to buy something specific, and so on.

It was like the calm before the storm of which is taking lots of lots of nude photos and videos of yourself.

All of this means you had to put your foot down and turn down whatever Natasha wanted so you could leave. “Nat, seriously. I’ll be back by,” you checked the clock on your phone. Fuck, it was already nine fifteen. You wanted to be out of here ten minutes ago. “What time does your shift end?”

She shrugged, a little taken aback. “I dunno, like one or two this afternoon. Two fifteen at the latest.”

“I’ll be back before two, I promise.”

Natasha looked you up and down, eyebrows furrowed with concern. She’d never seen you like this in the short time she’d known you. She could feel you were tense, incredibly tense. Sensing something was off, she dropped it and backed off. “O-okay. I’ll see you then.”

You smiled, grateful for her not pressing you on why you seem so pressed. At some point, you’d need to explain to her what you were doing, what you did for a living - especially if this relationship was going where you thought (hoped) it is. But not right then. You’d know when the right time is, and that wasn’t in Natasha’s kitchen with your heart racing. Maybe once you figured out her stance on sex work. But how could you weave that into a conversation?

Hey babe, before we start officially dating, I just wanted to ask you about SESTA/FOSTA, the decriminalization of sex work, and material autonomy? What’s your stance on camming as sex work?

Maybe you could relate this back to what you were supposed to be teaching her, sneak it into a mini-lesson or something like that. Butler’s talked about sex work, so have a bunch of other people. Maybe those people were queer theorists or media studies scholars, but they were still people talking about sex work in a context at least loosely related to post-modernism! Just because those people wrote obscure papers or dissertations from small college in the middle of nowhere didn’t mean their opinions on sex work didn’t matter! But those papers were all probably about prostitution, or escorting, or the phrase “sex work.” None of them about camming or selling private Snapchats and nudes or being commissioned for special videos (which included anything from getting yourself off with a hairbrush or eating cheeseburgers until you throw up). None of them exactly matched up to what you needed to know, making your inquiry that much more complicated.

Still, you could almost imagine the short-answer questions now:

What would [insert author here] say about “modern” sex work verses “old school” sex work? What does newer forms of sex work say about the way capitalism forces us to adapt the ways in which we are productive? What has changed in sex work since its origin? What hasn’t? Why do some disagree with postmodernists stance that the dollar is the most powerful force in the world, whether dissenters believe that racism, sex, or gendered violence is more powerful? How does the frequent use of “porn” as a metaphor show how postmodernists view porn and the way we relate to it? Should porn ever be used as a metaphor? If no, what should take its place?

Grabbing your backpack and phone on the way out the door, you started on the twenty-minute walk to the library. The commute was mostly barren of people, leaving you to the thoughts whirring around your brain.

By the time you’d tripped five (5) times, you’re cursing yourself for nothing taking the bus. Why would you ever need so much time to think? It’s just thinking!

Process might be a better word, though. That girl back there fucked you so good you’d never be able to sleep with anyone else again without measuring them against the night before. You’d never be able to get yourself off without seeing her when your eyelids flutter closed from pleasure. That type of experience just doesn’t happen without changing a woman. Worse, you’d gotten this little baby ache in your sternum and shakiness in your hands that always happened when you had a crush. Why couldn’t you ever see pretty girls without reconsidering your entire life story?

As you kicked a rock over a tree stump, you tried to remember that she seemed into you too. This wasn’t like in tenth grade when you were drooling over that super popular senior girl and it turned out she just wanted to use you for an AP Calc project. This wasn’t some unrequited love story. So why are you so fucking nervous?

Oh. Right. Your profession (or, “profession” as some people have called it in poorly-worded anonymous messages on Tumblr or with fake emails).

Once you stepped inside the library, you found your favorite spot (close to the vending machines and bathrooms) and started working. Once the door had been locked and the headphones were on, you opened your laptop. Slowly, as your email loaded, you saw a notification of a text from Natasha.

You looked behind you on instinct, even though you were completely alone. When all your eyes saw was a wall covered in poorly-applicated beige paint, you sighed and clicked on the little grey box.

As the text loaded, all you could see is that there’s an attachment, and it caused your heart rate to increase dramatically. It felt like a forever later when you finally opened your scrunched eyes, and another trillion years until the photo loaded.

It was a picture of her holding the pink panties you forgot to grab (in your defense, the shorts you snatched from her bedroom floor had built in underwear) back at Natasha’s apartment with the caption “Looks like you forgot something...you gonna come back and get it?”

God, you hadn’t even opened a single commission email, which is the only thing you had intended on doing that day. You should answer at least a few before you text her back…

But a hot girl was flirting with you! Money and paying your rent be damned, you needed to focus on getting laid again.

You hold your breath as your typed, as if filling your lungs would cause your fingers to lose the ability to type.

I don’t know.

You bit your lip as you texted her again.

Why don’t you keep them as a trophy?

You opened one email while you wait for her reply. It was about scat. You specifically said that you don’t do that. Deleted. Immediately after you got a reply from Natasha.

Don’t be naughty with me or I’ll gag you with them.

Before you could reply you get another text.

Or is that what you want?

Um, yes. It was what you wanted. It’s all you wanted. You mean, it’s one of many things you wanted. But you did want it. Since you weren’t physically with Natasha, it’s easy to make your replies a little bolder.

If I did want it, would you give it to me?

You quickly opened another email. This one was easy, just some really artful nudes with your stretch marks on display. Maybe some cool-colored mood lighting. You replied with the normal stuff (the payment, when you’ll have them done, etc). Once that email was sent, you saw another text.

I can give you anything you want, princess

That made you shiver, your hands shaking and breath hitching as you reply.

Anything?

You didn’t have time to open another email before you saw Natasha’s next texts.

Anything at all, Princess

You just gotta tell me what you want.

You felt like God is speaking to you directly. Surely this woman was Heaven sent, given to you by the Holy Father as a gift for all your hard work over the years, or something.

But how am I supposed to talk if I’m gagged?

With that sent, received, and read, you closed the chat before Natasha could reply. If you just opened five more emails, then you could answer. That’s good, right? That’s a good way to keep yourself focused. Four answered emails, two replies from customers, and one blocked user later, you found it in yourself to open the texts from Natasha again.

Oh, really? Is that what you want?

Not gonna answer me?

Looks like you’re actually studying

what a good girl you are

Bad news:

I have nothing to do without you here bc I finished everything early

so I guess I’ll text you what I want

A sharp inhale of breath pierced the stale air, scaring you. Oh wait, you realized. That was you.

Want so much from you. Wanna sit on your face, I bet you’re the champ of eating pussy, aren’t you? So pretty and eager to please. I’d love to see you blow a strap on. Had a girl do that once a while ago, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. She wasn’t nearly as pretty as you, though. Bet you’d look a billion times better with spit dripping down your face while I shove my cock down your throat. Maybe tie your hands behind your back with those panties you left me. You look so cute tied up.

You nearly choked on the water you started chugging in an empty effort to make yourself calm down. Oh fuck.

That’s when you saw another message from her.

I know you’re reading these, little one. Don’t run from Mommy.

You sucked in a breath, unable to respond. It took forever for you to craft your text, in the meantime you tried to switch back to your inbox to see if there was anything you could do to ground yourself.

No such luck, though.

Tell me more, Mommy. Please.

Natasha happily obliged.

You know what my absolute biggest fantasy is? Me and some other top just domming the hell out of you. Passing you around, leaving bruises all of your pretty little body.  You’d be so cute, just mewling and whining under us. Maybe we’d both fuck you at the same time, stretching your pretty little holes to the max.

This woman was about to be the death of you.

I’d love that, Mommy

After you saw that message had been sent, you started to pack up your stuff. You texted her you were about to start your walk home, but before you could stash your phone in your backpack you saw another text.

Don’t worry baby. Mommy’s got you. I’m right outside.

And when you stepped out the front doors, she was. You blushed when you saw her, clamoring into the front seat with your knees nervously knocking themselves together. You were about to stutter out a “thank you” before she lunged forward to kiss you deeply. It was hard, aggressive, dominating. As she pulled away, she bit your bottom lip before she turned back to the wheel. “You’ve been bad, baby. So bad.”

You didn’t speak as she sped away, making your way back to her apartment in record time. Each stop light, her fingers seemed to worm their way up your thighs and tease at the hem of your shorts; each time the light went back to green, and she pulled away, you’d whimper as loudly and lewdly as possible. In all honesty, you were hoping to get her attention. Whether or not it would end how you wanted it to be questionable, but it was worth a shot. You would try anything at that point, to be close to her. To feel the softness of her cardigan, to unbutton her shirt, to unzip her pants.

When you made it her front door, you could barely make it inside before Natasha had you pressed against a wall. She slipped your backpack onto the slightly-warped hard wood carefully, not wanting your laptop to break.

You gasped as she ripped the shorts from your body. “Oh, God, Nat- “

She placed her left pointer finger over your lips as two fingers from her right slid into your dripping center. “Sh, baby girl, call me Mommy,” she whispered before she dropped to her knees.

Natasha didn’t start with any niceties, no prepping, rather she immediately began sucking on your clit and curling the now-three fingers inside of you. You wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to do something, but the combination of shock and the proximity to the front door made your mouth silent as you shook violently. You’d stuffed the sleeve in Natasha’s hoodie as you shrieked from your almost-too-quick orgasms, the fabric muffled your hearty screams as Natasha continued to fuck her fingers into you.

“N- Mommy, mommy please stop,” you begged. “Please stop I can’t, Mommy I can’t take it!”

Nat just laughed, never slowing down. “C’mon, princess. If you come one more time like this for me, I’ll stop. Okay, baby girl? Just one more…”

You’d had both hands covering your face now, your cheeks hotter than the face of the sun as your whole body convulsed. For a moment the feeling you had to piss cuts through the fog that had flooded your meninges, and then you felt a wash of pleasure wave through you that made you collapse against the wall.

“Hey, baby girl,” you heard Natasha coo in a metaphysical plane not your own. “Hey, princess it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

It took a few moments for you to come back, for your vision to stabilize. When you were finally able to see the woman in front of you, the first thing you noticed was her cheeks and lips and chin and nose glistening wet. While you looked confused, a shit-eating grin broke out on Natasha’s face.

“Was that your first time squirting?” She asked, her voice just above a whisper and full of excitement.

You nodded. “Y-yeah.”

Her grin only got bigger as she picked you up and brought you into her bedroom, sheets just as messy as when you had left them that morning. The uneven fabric was uncomfortable as she dropped you onto them, but then was no time to complain. No, you were smart enough to know as Nat held up a toy in each hand that you were not in a position to grumble about the sex-dirty sheets or protest to being thrown or grumble that this woman seduced you into coming home from the library early that day.

“Which toy you want, sweetheart?”

They were both silicone cocks, the one in her right hand a glittery pink while the toy in her left a matte black. The pink one was sleek and long, but the black one was truly the one that caught your attention. It was girthy, veiny. Your pussy already ached looking at it, and you squeezed your thighs together for relief as you imagined Natasha fucking it in and out of you at a pace that would leave you bruised and breathless.

Natasha noticed this right away. “Aw, is my little princess feeling greedy today?” She crawled on top of you after pulling on the strap and securing the toy in place. “You sure you want this one baby girl? You sure you want me to fuck you with something so big…could your tiny little cunt even take it?”

All you could do was whimper.

“Good girl,” she purred. “This is gonna look so cute covered in your cum.”