#and BY GOD i want to live by that. i want to live like that. i want to be as open and friendly as i want

[megaderping]

I feel like when people compare Akechi to Light Yagami, they fundamentally misunderstand his character. Their similarities really end at their designs, and Light is the kind of person Akechi would despise. Light Yagami lives a pretty privileged life at the start of Death Note. He has a stable home, with two parents and a sister who care about him. He's a successful student. There isn't really inherent tragedy to his life. The whole reason he starts using the Death Note is a mix of curiosity and a jaded worldview, and when it works it empowers him, very quickly goes to his head, as he believes he is one who can be a god of a "new world" once the shock of his initial kills wears off. While his first kill was to help someone, that altruism didn't last. He is in charge of his choices, while Ryuk mostly vibes and maybe eggs him on a little. Fundamentally, Light has something Akechi lacks: agency, and a comfortable life he took for granted. Meanwhile, Akechi is someone who lived on the bottom rung of Japanese society. His very existence is shameful there, between his mother being a sex worker, his status as an illegitimate/"throw away" child, and his mother's suicide. Years languishing in a foster system that is notoriously inhumane, in a country where 90% of the adoptions are grown men for inheritance and patriarchal reasons, while very few children in the system find permanent homes. When Akechi awakens his power, he approaches Shido not because he wants to kill people but for a stupid revenge plan cooked up by a traumatized child who's been nudged along by a malevolent god. He wants to build Shido up so that at the height of his power, he can expose him for the monster he really is, while another part of him genuinely wants to be useful to Shido, as Cogkechi later calls out. His feelings are a mess of contradictions, and so it's no surprise that Shido was able to mold him into his assassin at only 15 years old. It's also worth noting that Akechi only approaches Shido with his ability to cause psychotic breakdowns. Shido is the one who teaches and instructs him to do shutdowns. He's still complicit, very sunk cost with his revenge plan, but as I spoke of here, even if he wanted to quit, he couldn't alone. Shido's cleaner and control of the law and ability to effortlessly turn him in would render the Metaverse his only safe haven. I think people look at 11/20 Akechi and Akechi in the early parts of the engine room and assume that's just his "true self," when in reality it's another mask. Royal makes it very clear because in Rank 7, he outright warns Joker of what's to come via a pool metaphor and offers an out (though he's MUCH happier if you don't take it/stick to your principles), and in Rank 8, he goes on that big "I hate you" speech... while Sunset Bridge is playing. Y'know, the song that plays at the end of most confidants to reaffirm bonds. So when he smiles as he shoots what he assumes to be Joker, that doesn't mean he's genuinely happy. More likely, he's an emotional clusterfuck, given he also is disoriented enough to namedrop "Shido-san" over the phone, and in the subsequent meeting with Shido, tells him not to kill the Phantom Thieves and that Morgana is "just a cat." Yes, he says they'll make them fear for the rest of their lives, but remember, he's talking to Shido. The things he says are likely all incredibly calculated to sound appealing to Shido. And when you consider that he planned to utterly destroy Shido's reputation after the election, the "delay" makes even more sense.

Later, Akechi goes on about how the people he induced shutdowns on were deserving of their fates, but I don't think he believes it so much as it's the only way he could convince himself that it was worth it, and given how much society failed him, and given how many of the people he targeted were likely rivals/competitors or rich fucks, I think he'd be less inclined to assume good faith. Kunikazu Okumura was not an innocent little victim, after all. He was one of the people who requested breakdowns and shutdowns the most. I think Akechi enjoyed killing him not because of how it'd hurt Haru, but because of catharsis. Because Okumura is just as monstrous as Shido, so why should he feel remorse? However, I don't believe he feels the same about Wakaba, as when he discusses her with Shido, he mentions how her fate was because she refused to willingly work for him. It's another justification, but I personally think Wakaba's death was the most painful for him because he was effectively making Futaba just like him. That's why I think his reaction to Sae threatening Sojiro's custody was genuine. Anyway, evil grinning Akechi is just another mask, as I said. Keep in mind, this is someone who laments not meeting Joker years ago, someone who Morgana outright points out is lying about his hatred. And that's the thing. Light Yagami, while a really fascinating character, is not someone who had all this childhood suffering or lack of agency. He does not regret his actions in the slightest and goes down due to his own hubris in both the anime and the manga. While you can argue that Ryuk set him up by dropping the Death Note, Light was the one who picked it up and chose to use it. Any nudging from Ryuk didn't coerce Light into doing it because Light seized the opportunity. No, if Light Yagami is like anyone in Persona 5, it's Masayoshi Shido, not Goro Akechi. Both believe they are god/god's chosen, that they are the ones who will reshape the world to their ideals, and to be frank, both use and abuse women to serve their own purposes. Goro Akechi goes down sacrificing himself for the Thieves and pleading with them to stop his father and again in Maruki's reality when he refuses to let Joker accept a gilded prison of a world for his sake when he knows better than anyone what it's like to have no true freedom. If you max his confidant, you see him in the postcredits, leaving his survival entirely possible, and I think it works because at the end of the day, Akechi was meant to be a victim and a foil. Light is a villain protagonist and a cautionary tale. Though its his POV we follow, he isn't someone we're meant to root for, but I definitely don't think enjoying the character is a bad thing at all. He's really interesting! I just think that a lot of the Akechi and Light comparisons are surface level at best.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I try to answer other people’s call lights if I’m not busy, because if my work is done and I’ve helped out with other people’s work, I can fully commit to slacking off guilt free. And usually what people want is bathroom, snacks, and/or pain meds, all of which are pretty easy to address and if there’s anything too complicated, I can always call the nurse. Anyway, I go answer this call light, and it’s for a patient I don’t know and have never spoken to before. I pop in like “hi can I help you?” as I feel so quietly smug about how Helpful I am being, and the patient goes, “do you know if I’m dying tonight? If I am, I should call my family.”

To be so clear. I was expecting like. a request for a ginger ale. I was not prepared emotionally for a very sick stranger grappling with the angst of potentially imminent death. So I go, “UMMM. I DON’T KNOW. LEMME CHECK WITH YOUR NURSE AND SEE IF SHE KNOWS.” This seemed heinously inadequate in the face of their obvious despair, so I added, “probably not in the next ten minutes if you’re able to sit up and ask, but I can’t make any promises.”

Don’t think that was the ideal follow up sentence. But it didn’t seem to make the patient any sadder than they already were. I used to really live in fear of being the nurse in someone’s anecdote about a wildly inappropriate thing said to them by their nurse. It’s not so much as I’ve gotten over that fear as I’ve accepted that my job thrusts me into a lot of situations where I have to talk about extremely intense topics to the people most intimately affected by those topics, often with no time, no prep, and no information. At this point, I just try my best to ground my inarticulate fumblings in as much genuine care as I can express, and thank God I don’t fuck up worse and more often.

[islandoforder]

the thing is like. as an overwhelmed teenager who was just killed by a system that didn’t protect them properly and wants above all to live, yeah i can see pledging yourself to an unnameable rage god, like you should be angry your school just shipped you off to die alone in the mountains on your spring break.

that said, given gorgug, kristen, adaine, and riz have all died and not pledged themselves to a rage god, i simply know that adaine in particular will see this as simply a skill issue

[dragon-ascent]

You vent to Chonkli about your god, unaware that Chonkli is in fact your god.

Rex Lapis' first time shape-shifting into his tiny dragon form is an interesting one, to say the least.

There he is, a fluffy and chonky little brown creature sunbathing on a rock. And there you are, bored and lonely and- "Oh my gosh! You're soooo cute!"

Before he knows what's happened, you've scooped him up and are giving him allll the kisses known to mankind, cradling him like he's a newborn.

"Squishy baby! Fluffy baby! Squishy fluffy baby!" Swaying him around, you coo at him when his tail wiggles (involuntarily, he would argue). When you bring him back to your face for more kisses, he tries to paw at you softly; he's met with an affectionate nom to his paw.

You sit down, still holding Chonkli tenderly, stroking his fur (he purrs in satisfaction). "Honestly, perfect timing. I've been wanting to get something off my chest, but people would probably take it the wrong way, so I'll tell you instead! It's about our deity, Rex Lapis."

Chonkli perks up, alert.

"He's nice and all, and he takes good care of us, but...he's kind of scary! Probably because of his resting bitch face."

"Rawr?" Chonkli tilts his head - this is news to him. Not that he even understands what a resting bitch face is, but still!

"And like... he does praise us, but he does it with a straight face! I can't tell if he's being genuine or not!" You sigh, holding the chonky dragon tightly, missing the way he's started to wiggle. "Sometimes when I see him, his very presence makes me want to run away screaming!"

"Oh, please do not be afraid of me." In the blink of an eye, he's turned into a man, his gentle golden gaze trained on you. His head is on your lap, and he's sitting on the ground against the bench you're seated on. For the first time in his life, he has a small pout on his lips.

You stare at him, slack-jawed, your hand in his hair where his fur was supposed to be. He stares back, eventually realising this may be a nasty shock to you, so he pulls away slowly, never taking his eyes off you. Then, after what seems like an eon, you scream.

The god, not wanting to make things worse, murmurs a "Forgive me," and hastily excuses himself from the scene.

...For the next few weeks, you're paranoid that any living creature you see could be Rex in disguise.

[taasgirl]

lover - oscar piastri

summary: y/n is a songwriter who writes plenty of songs however no one realizes that they're made by her (and about oscar hehe)!

a/n: the outcomes of the races are fictional, and the order in which these songs have been written (assume fearless was written this year ygwim?). also no face claim!!

liked by yukitsunoda, oscarpiastri, and 33, 287 others ynusername romance is not dead if you keep it just yours! lovelovelove being able to come home for race day!! i'm so proud of u osc 🩷

oscarpiastri I'm so lucky 🥰 liked by ynusername

user27633 Y/N IS A SWIFTIE CONFIRMED!?!?!

ynusername of course!!

user16372 u literally take the cutest photos of oscar

user82537 y/n quoting paris... i'm so up

yukitsunoda 😆😆

landonorris You're my favourite wag

ynusername wow how considerate

liked by taylorswift, landonorris, and 1, 287, 387 others oscarpiastri Unwinding before Japan 👊

ynusername tehee we're cute

oscarpiastri You're cuter landonorris Get a room

taylorswift ooooh she's working hard @ ynusername

user62584 WHAT THE FUCK ARE U DOING HERE???

user98274 OSCAR IS FRIENDS WITH TAYLOR HUH

user61192 i did not expect to see taylor in the comments of oscar's post tagging y/n!

user92898 no fr like what is going on

user93829 Everyone shut up about taylor look at the beauty that is y/n omd

view ynusername's story...

liked by jackantonoff, phoebebridgers, and 55, 918, 278 others taylorswift In honour of my album 'The Tortured Poets Department' release a week ago, I wanted to thank my biggest musical inspirations! Thank you Jack, Lana, and Y/N for helping me the best artist I could possibly be, without you'd guys I'd be nowhere (thank you y/n for writing the cheesiest, cutest, sexiest songs ever)!!

user51862 who is y/n

user01827 She's dating f1 driver oscar piastri but also now apparently a songwriter idk...

user72973 Wdym thanks y/n for writing?? you're telling me the twitter stans were right??

user62863 y/n is singlehandedly uniting f1 and the swifties

ynusername thank u tay 💓💓

user52868 Girl has been living a double life

user51929 ohhh so this is why taylor was commenting on oscar's post😭

liked by oscarpiastri, taylorswift, and 108, 276 others ynusername well now that the cat is out of the bag, who wants to hear a story? i assume u all said yes.

on one of our first dates, oscar made me a bracelet (yes that one) and i thought (and still think) that it was one of the most romantic gestures. so obviouslyyy i wrote 'lover' about him hehe. yes we only knew each other for at most three months when i wrote it, but i love him so much, he's my forever.

oscarpiastri I love having a singer for a girlfriend (wife one day)

ynusername hello cat boy

user18739 You're telling me that taylor's most romantic song is literally written by my favourite wag about my favourite driver?? i might pass out

ynusername haha yes! i write a lot of songs for tay

landonorris So this song is basically about ur delusions liked by ynusername

user52863 oh now i need to know exactly what songs you've written

user20939 AND PLEASE RECORD COVERS OF THEM TOO

lilymhe wait so you've been friends with taylor the whole time...

lilymhe AND THE SONG THAT I WANT PLAYED AT MY WEDDING IS WRITTEN ABOUT OSCAR?? ynusername oh my god lily HAHA

let me know if you liked this!! i know it's super short but i'm seriously lacking inspo and ideas omd. also i literally love oscar so much.

i'm also working on a few reqs, so if you have a suggestion or request, let me know because i'd love to do it!!

[moonchildstyles]

I would simply die for an Aster blurb about them moving in together and christening their new room

wordcount: 9.4k+

—————

(Y/N)'s body felt heavy by the time she stacked the final box in what was now her new bedroom. She couldn't help herself before she was flopping onto the bare mattress on the floor, her back popping as soon as she laid back. 

It'd been a long day and a half between transporting the boxes, breaking down furniture, and cleaning out whatever she wasn't taking with her in the move. The last step had been spending the morning unpacking what she could and organizing the remaining boxes. Harry was doing the hard work of putting together the furniture they'd just broken down, and setting up the new pieces they picked up to fill out the rest of their space. 

Mitch and Sarah had helped as they could, but they were readying for their own move. Now that (Y/N) and Harry were in their own place, Sarah would be moving in with Mitch in the house, leaving their apartment empty at the end of the month. 

(It had been a tearful conversation when they realized neither of them would be signing onto the lease once more, (Y/N) especially saddened at the thought of the first place she considered a real home now sitting empty. Her reassurance came in the form of knowing Sarah would still only be fifteen minutes away from her new home, and she would be with Harry now—her real home, if she wanted to get sentimental). 

Staring up at the ceiling with her limbs spread out, (Y/N) took in a long breath. 

It was odd already, seeing the differences in the ceiling despite the texture not being too far off from what it was like at her apartment or Harry's old house. Even the mattress under her wasn't the same, Harry having urged them to get a bigger one—even more than the one he used to have. Though the walls were still bare, she already knew how different it would be from either of her previous spaces; more black would be involved than she ever imagined herself living in. 

All the change had her bones aching that much more. 

"Break time?" 

Craning her neck up, she spotted Harry standing in the doorway wearing a small smile on his lips. Though he had his hair tied back with one of the many scrunchies he'd stolen, stray curls still stuck to his temples, attracted to the sheen glossing his skin. No eyeliner darkened his gaze at the moment, but the sleeveless cut of his shirt allowed all of his tattoos to sit in the morning light. 

God, she was going to have to buy curtains soon, too. 

"I guess," she sighed, flopping back onto the mattress. 

Harry let out a huff of laughter, his footsteps giving him away as he crossed the room only to flop beside her. 

He laid in silence next to her, looking at the same ceiling they would be gazing at every night together. 

"What are y'thinking about?" he asked, his voice a murmur. 

(Y/N) swallowed, reaching for his hand between them. "We're moving in together." 

She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "I know." 

Hearing his own joy, she couldn't help the smile touching at the corners of her lips. "You're excited?" 

He pulsed his hand around hers. "Of course I am—I've been excited since Barcelona. 'S me and you now, baby." 

She liked the way he talked about this change, shaving the nervous edge from her thoughts. Change didn't sound so bad if it meant she was doing it with him. "You'll never have to drop me off anymore."

Letting out a plume of laughter, Harry rolled over to hover above her. Stationing his elbow by her head, he placed his cheek in his palm, squishing his smile as he gazed down at her. 

"I know—you'll be stuck with me all the time now." 

"You'll be stuck with me," she countered, voicing one of the thoughts that'd been floating through her head these last weeks as the move became more real. What if, once the honeymoon wore off, he'd realize he didn't like living with her as much as he'd hoped? 

"Sounds like a dream to me," he told her, readily fending off her unsaid worry. "How long do y'think 's gonna take for you to start getting up early with me, or for me to start sleeping in with you?" 

A small huff of laughter fanned from her lungs. "I don't know—you tell me, because I'm not getting up early like you unless I have to." 

"We'll see," he said, placing his free hand on the soft of her cheek, "It'll only take a couple mornings of breakfasts before you're up with me every day." 

He had her there, truthfully. She loved breakfast, and she wouldn't put it past him to use it against her in an effort to change her sleep cycle. 

Leaning into his hand on her cheek with her eyes matching his above her, she felt herself soften up that much more. "You're really happy, though? No cold feet?" 

Harry's expression leveled out, sincerity in his eyes. "'M more than happy, angel. Really, I've been thinking about this for a long time with you. Get t'have you all the time now—everything feels real now. 'M excited." 

It was the light in his eyes, the way he didn't flinch from her gaze or trail away, that had her chest tightening. His words felt like a vow to her ears. Everything did feel real now—in the scariest, most exciting, nerve-wracking, dream fulfilling way. 

This was all she'd ever wanted, to have a home filled with love and trust. Harry would make that a reality for her, starting with this move. 

"You're happy?" he prodded, thumbing over her cheekbone. 

"Really happy," she affirmed, nodding her head, "Scared, but in a good way." 

He tipped his head as he listened to her, a dimple popping into his cheek. "'S a change, but a good change, right?" 

"Yeah," she smiled, "Good change." 

Ducking down, Harry pressed his lips to hers. Despite the long morning they had picking through and transporting boxes, he didn't lack any energy as he poured that assuring affection through the kiss. 

"Love you," she murmured when he pulled away, lashes fluttering in a blink. 

"Love you, too," he drawled, voice a low rumble just for her. "After I finish putting up the shelves, we can get lunch." 

Maybe it was nostalgia or reaching for something familiar amidst the change that had her suggesting, "Little House?" 

His grin stretched with dimples in his cheeks and bunny-like front teeth on display. "Anything y'want, lovebug." 

She could definitely get used to hearing that. 

—————

"What's next on the list?"

Peering at her phone with knitted brows, (Y/N) scrolled through the list of all the things they needed to pick up during their grocery trip. 

"Um," she mused, making sure she was noting everything they had packed away in the trolley already, "Pasta." 

Harry hummed in response. "This way, I think," he murmured, leading them down the aisles until she saw the many different boxes and bags displayed on the shelves. 

Parking the cart on the opposite side of the aisle, Harry looked at the different options before them with a critical eye as if he were looking at more than just varying shapes of pasta. 

"Do y'care what kind?" he asked, reaching for a blue box of plain spaghetti on the shelf.

"Not really, but," she started, spotting her preferred brand just a few boxes down, "The green box is better." 

Following her line of sight, he found the brand she referred to just for his features to pinch. "Wheat noodles?" 

"Well, yeah," she said, her own brows meeting in the middle with a pinch. 

"You... actually eat that?" Harry asked, almost looking offended at this new detail he found out about her. 

"They're good," she countered, defensive.

Harry shook his head, a huff of laughter falling from his lips. "I always thought those were Sarah's when I was over." 

"Do you not like them?" (Y/N) pressed, popping a hip the longer he stood there arguing with her.

"No one likes wheat noodles, love. You're the first person I've ever met that eats them by choice." 

"They're good!" she repeated, a whine to her voice, "Stop being mean." 

"I'm not being mean," he shook his head, grabbing for one of her wheat boxes along with one of his regular blue boxes, "Jus' didn't know that about you. Next, you're gonna tell me that y'only eat green bananas or plain yogurt." 

When she didn't answer as he loaded the cart with their new finds, Harry glanced up at her with amusement in his eyes. 

"(Y/N)..." 

"Green bananas last longer," she cemented, "And plain yogurt is really good with honey. Don't be mean." 

Harry only shook his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he steadied the trolley with his free hand. "You're cute, angel. That's all." 

He pressed a small kiss to the top of her head in the privacy of their aisle, his smile felt against the strands. 

"And, a little weird." 

Looking up at him with accusing eyes, (Y/N) whined out his name. "No, I'm not." 

"Sure," he smiled, teasing her that much more before dotting a kiss to the tip of her nose, "What's next?" 

(Y/N) hoped he didn't catch the smile gracing her lips when she shook her head. 

—————

Though it felt a bit silly to be so dressed up with nowhere to go, (Y/N) couldn't resist twirling before the mirror in her bedroom.

Her dress was short, a stiff corset making up the bodice while the skirt flared around her hips until hitting the mid of her thigh, everything draped in baby pink satin. Her arms were left free aside from a barely there gathering of lace that sagged over her biceps, a faux sleeve that did nothing to keep the bodice high on her chest. More lace was overlaid on the rest of the dress, threaded with shimmering gold to sparkle every time she caught the light.

It was a dress she'd had for over a year now, having never worn it before tonight. It always felt much too fancy for anything she'd go out for, and much too extravagant for her to feel comfortable in. 

But, tonight was date night. Their first date night in their new home. It felt like a special enough occasion to finally grow the confidence to don the gown, even if she was still a bit nervous that she was doing too much. Especially since this date night would be spent in their dining room. 

Satisfied with the way her hair fell and her cheeks held a dewy flush thanks to all of the cosmetics on the bathroom counter (Harry still needed to finish building her vanity, so until then she was taking over their ensuite), she padded out of the bedroom on socked feet. 

They had almost completely finished packing, only. a few boxes and pieces of furniture waiting. Everything was a perfect mix of the two of them, (Y/N) thought. There was a pink throw blanket over their grey couch, a cherry blossom shaped lamp on their glass coffee table, a fluffy pink cat bed housing a black bat toy. There were photos of them littering the walls, some from their time in Barcelona, but many from the quiet moments they spent at home with one another. While (Y/N) had never imagined living in a home with so much black and other muted tones, everything served as a reminder that this was a home she'd made with someone else—someone she loved. 

She'd learn to live with it, she decided. 

The kitchen was warm as she padded over the tiles, the light in the oven on as she peeked through the glass to check on the lasagna cooking inside. With the extra cheese bubbling on top, she figured—hoped—the dish would be ready in a few minutes, giving her just enough time to plate and serve everything when Harry walked through the door. 

Evie circled her feet as she moved towards the dining table, nearly tripping (Y/N) just as Harry warned her his kitten would attempt to do the first time (Y/N) met her all that time ago. 

"Careful, Evie," she scolded her with a gentle tone, reaching down to pet between her ears, "I almost kicked you." Ever the beggar, Evie only chirped up at her with big eyes the way she had when (Y/N) was layering the lasagna in hopes of earning some extra scraps. "Later," (Y/N) promised her, carefully stepping around Evie, "After it's out of the oven, I'll give you some pieces before your dad sees." 

The table was already set, complete with candles and intricate place mats. There was a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge (did wine even go in the fridge? She'd have to ask Harry later) next to the strawberry shortcake she'd bought from the shops, and the heart shaped speaker she'd stolen from their bathroom was now perched on the kitchen island. As soon as the lights were lowered, (Y/N) hoped their home would feel just as nice as the restaurants Harry loved taking her to. 

After the timer went off, she pulled the dish from the warm oven, basil and oregano scenting through the space. Checking the time, she made haste as she put the finishing touches on the space. Once squares of lasagna were cut out, she attempted to place extra basil leaves atop the bake in hopes of emulating a heart—an idea she'd seen on Pinterest. She connected a soft playlist to filter from the small speaker. Flames danced in the candle votives, warming the space just as he lowered the lights. 

Just as she popped the plates on the placemats, she heard the distinct crackling of the garage door opened. A smile spread across her features.

Harry was home. 

She couldn't contain how antsy she was as she stood next to the made up table, rocking in her spot with her dress twirling around her. Gosh, she hoped he liked what she did. 

Evie chirped at the door she'd learned Harry would come through when he came home, circling and looking up in wait of her dad. (Y/N) sympathized with her energy. 

Harry's heavy footsteps sounded just before the door swung open, his gentle voice crooning as soon as he saw his Evie running out to greet him. 

"Hey, you," he smiled, reaching down to pet her head, "How was your day, hm? Where's mummy?" 

At that same moment, he peered up, noticing the low lights in the house and the warm scent drifting through. She had her hands knotted behind her, unable to stop them from fidgeting by the time his gaze slid over her. 

"Hi, love," he said after a moment, though his eyes never strayed from the neckline of her dress, "What's got you all dressed up? Did I forget something?" 

She shook her head. "It's date night," she told him, "First one in the new house." 

"Pretty special occasion, then. When did y'get that dress?" His eyes finally shifted down the rest of the length to where frilly socks circled her ankles before landing on her face once more. A smile bloomed on his cheeks. 

"I've had it for a while, just never wore it," she shared, swallowing around the nerves that all of his attention garnered, "I made dinner." 

It seemed then that he realized there was more than just her and her dress in the room. She watched as he took in the set up and the plates of dinner, the smell in the house and the candles lighting the room. 

"You did," he said, finally stepping away from the threshold and towards her, "Everything looks wonderful—especially you." 

"Thank you," she smiled, falling into his arms as soon as he opened them. Settling her chin on his chest, she dazed up at him with moony eyes. "How was work?" 

While it was far from the first time she'd asked him that exact question, it definitely had a different ring to it knowing that he'd just come home—to their home—from his first day of work since moving in. 

"Good," he murmured, his eyes seemingly twinkling in the candle light with his eyeliner smudged under his eyes, "Long. Jus' wanted to be home with you and Evie." 

Hearing that never got old to (Y/N). "I missed you, too," she declared, squeezing her arms around his middle, "Did you still have fun?"

"A little," he teased, "Y'were busy today though, hm?" 

"A little," she parroted, growing sheepish under his gaze, "This is our first real dinner that isn't takeout here. I wanted it to be special." 

Tearing his eyes from hers, he looked at the spread on the dining table once more. "Definitely did jus' that, angel. I feel underdressed," he laughed, his hands laced behind her back trailing down the flared skirt of her dress. 

"I think you look nice," she countered, drawing her own eyes down to the ink on his neck, the roses blooming as he swallowed. 

"I look like I jus' came home from work," he said, laughing off her compliment. 

"But, you came home to me," she murmured, unsure of what her point was, but knowing that there was no way he was ever going to look bad when he was coming back to their home. 

His expression softened then, leaving only a single dimple dented in his cheek and a lopsided smile on his raspberry lips. "I did, didn't I?" 

(Y/N) nodded up at him before Harry ducked his head down and pressed a kiss to her soft lips. She could feel her lip gloss sliding between their mouths, surely leaving a stain on his own though he didn't care with the way he slotted their lips together. It was a kiss full of affection, where his hands on the small of her back had her pressed to him. Tipping his head just so, he deepened the kiss with a taste of her lips on his tongue. 

He pulled away first, only after smattering a string of pecks across her pout. He was rewarded with a plume of laughter fanning from her mouth. 

"'M gonna get changed, but I'll be right back, 'kay?" he told her, untangling his arms from around her waist. 

"Okay," she sighed dreamily, reluctant to let go of him though she was able to, instead, watch him walk to their shared bedroom instead. 

He only turned around once to catch her admiring him.

—————

(Y/N) wanted to huff when Harry blocked her from reaching into the water-filled sink for the third time. She settled for planting her hands on her hips, and pouting at the back of his head. 

"I can help, H. It's fine," she attempted to reason with him again. 

As if he hadn't heard her at all, he continued with his hands in the soapy water, cleaning off the dishes they'd used for dinner. He'd already packed away the leftovers of the lasagna and stowed away the remaining half-bottle of wine she'd uncorked for the night; she wanted to help before the opportunity was gone. 

Her pout only puffed out further, feeling a tiny bit like an insolent child when she debated if stamping her foot would catch his attention. 

"Harry," she scolded. 

"(Y/N)," he countered, parroting her scolding tone right back, "I've got it, my love. Jus' relax now." 

"But we're supposed to be a team," she complained, "I'm not supposed to let you do this by yourself." 

At that, Harry finally chanced a look over his shoulder at her. His eyes were tender, bright green against the refreshed liner he had applied when he changed before dinner. The lines of his face were soft as he gazed at her, his lips slightly curling while the line of his jaw held a rounded edge.

"We are a team, baby," he emphasized, wiping his hands down before turning to face her, "You made dinner, so 'm doing dishes. That sounds like teamwork to me, don't you think?" 

(Y/N) opened her mouth before swiftly closing it, unsure of what to say to that. At the end of it all, deep in her chest where she didn't enjoy digging, was that fear that if she didn't pull her weight, show her worth as more than just a little playmate for Evie or someone to crowd the bathroom with all of her products. 

But that wasn't exactly a romantic date night conversation, was it?

He waited patiently as she attempted to find her words, leaning back against the counter with an adoring gaze. When nothing coherent came from her lips, only a sputtering of a half-baked excuse, he reached towards her with gentle hands. 

Grasping her waist over the structure of her dress, he pulled her towards him until she was flush to his chest. Only when she wrapped her own arms around his middle, fingers looping around his back, did he set a careful hand on her cheek. 

Brushing stray hairs from her face, he tilted his head as a small smile touched his lips. "You know 'm still going to take care of you, right? Jus' because we live together now, doesn't change that. Y'don't have to prove anything—not to me."

With a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) swore she could have cried hearing his words. She melted into his hold instead, enveloping him in a warming hug. 

He knew her better than anyone before, that much she knew. It was enough to have her heart breaking only to grow bigger so she could fit more of him inside. 

"Love you," she murmured, the words muffled against his chest as she squished herself against him. 

"Love you more, angel," he reciprocated, dotting a kiss to the top of her head. Shifting his hands on her, he moved until his palms landed on her hips. "So you're going to sit right here, and let daddy take care of you." 

It was the amusement swimming in his eyes and the lilting in her voice that made it clear he was only teasing, prodding and poking at her to get her in a lighter mood, but (Y/N) only felt her skin heat at the use of that title. It was quite the adjustment to know that he could speak so boldly outside of the bedroom now that there weren't any kind of roommates that could walk in at the last moment. 

In a daze, she stepped back as he herded her to sit up on the counter beside the sink. She was left with her legs dangling with her skirt fanned across her thighs, hands knotted in her lap, and her eyes on his back. The music she had connected to the small speaker continued to thrum through the room, soft and low, creating a soundtrack for the moment. 

It was silly, to feel so entranced as she watched him do something as mundane as rinsing dishes, but that was definitely what she was feeling. 

He hadn't even changed into anything special before dinner, only a black button down with embroidered white flowers and a pair of fitted black trousers. His hair was left down after adjusting some of the curls he'd mussed during work, the length falling longer than she'd seen it before. 

Maybe it was the fact that she could still hear his teasing comment ringing in her ears, or how much she truly had missed him throughout the day, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. She watched as his shoulders tensed and flexed through the fabric, the line of his muscles down the length of his arm. A part of her wanted to reach out, drag her hand down his biceps and feel the way they bunched and released as he worked. 

She felt herself growing impatient the longer he worked through the soapy water, despite knowing there wasn't much of a mess for him to clean up given the limited dishes. Without thinking, she swung her socked foot out and tapped against his leg, dragging over the back of his calf. 

A huff of laughter left Harry's lips though he continued working with only a small glance at her. "Wasn't enough to jus' watch me? Gotta touch me, too?" 

She felt flustered to be called out like that, as if she hadn't wanted his attention in the first place. She only managed a small shrug of her shoulders. 

Shaking his head, Harry put the last rinsed plate into the dishwasher and drained the sink. He took his time drying off his hands before reaching for her crossed legs. Setting his hands on her thighs, she pliantly let him spread them apart before he came to stand between her legs, his hands settling on the full of her thighs with a lingering touch. 

"What are y'thinking about, love? Got all my attention now, jus' like y'wanted, right?" 

His gaze on her features was warm enough that (Y/N) swore she could feel a warmth in its wake, heavy and unrelenting. She blinked up at him, a flutter of her lashes as he grew breathless. "I don't know—just... You." 

"Me?" he smiled, dipping his head down until he was level with her, "You've got a crush on me or something?" 

His teasing was enough to have a laugh drawn from her lungs, dropping her hands to land on his own as they roamed over her thighs, dipping underneath the hem of her dress. "Stop," she giggled.

"Ooh," he sung, "You like me, don't you? C'mon, love, can't hide it from me. So obvious, isn't it?" 

"Stop it," she laughed, letting go of his hands and instead opting to loop her arms around his neck in a controlling hug, "I don't have a crush on you!" 

"You don't?" Harry whined, a pout audible in his voice, "But, why'd y'move in with me then if y'don't even have a crush on me?" 

Hooking her ankle around the back of his leg. She murmured into his neck, "Because I love you." 

His arms created a cradle around her back, keeping her close as he quieted in her hug. "I love you too," he hummed, "So much. Thank you for doing all of this for us, love—everything was perfect." 

Her grin stretched wider over her cheeks, "I'm happy you liked it all. First date at our new house." 

"Still gotta take care of a lot of firsts here, don't we?" His hands on her body shifted then, caressing the structure of her dress, the pads of his fingers tracing the detailing of the lace. 

With the way his voice dropped—and the fact he'd said what he said only a handful of minutes ago—, (Y/N) had somewhat of an idea of what kind of firsts he was referring to. 

The past week had been hectic to say the least. Nothing more than cuddling and a few stray kisses were shared in their new bed, their bodies not having energy for anything more after their long days of making their house a new home.

Tightening the loop of her arms around his neck, she clung to him as she nodded into his neck. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" he parroted, a smile in his voice. Turning his head, he pressed his lips into a string of kisses from her temple down to her cheek, lingering kisses that dragged over her skin. She could feel her blood warming in his wake, her lashes fluttering as her eyes came to a close. 

"Yeah, daddy."

Harry pulled in a long breath at the sound of his title wrapped in her voice, the tip of his nose dragging across her cheek. Finally, he planted his lips on hers, slotting between her own. 

With her arms around his neck, (Y/N) practically melted into him with the broad of his body keeping her upright. She half-expected him to smile into the kiss, a small tease over seeing how ready she was for something as small as a kiss, but he did nothing more than tilt his head and strengthen his grip on her form. 

It wasn't until she felt the tip of his tongue sweep across her lower lip that she gathered they hadn't even so much as kissed like this since moving. She hadn't realized the week had been so hectic as to leave no time for anything more than a few kisses and their cuddling before passing out as soon as the sun fell. 

She hadn't realized how much she missed him until that second. 

Reciprocating his kiss, lips parting and inviting him in, (Y/N) hitched a thigh over his hip. She clung to him with her fingers working into the baby soft curls on the back of his neck in a soft tug. He let out a sigh into her mouth, his hands pulsing on her waist. With her position on the counter, every flex of his hands on her body, she was drawn closer and closer to the edge, leaving her to wrap her limbs instead. 

His tongue ran over her own, the taste of the strawberry shortcake dessert lingering. She could feel the tip of his nose nudging into her own, tracing the bridge with every tip of their heads. The soft sound of their lips parting and coming together filled the kitchen, sounding over the music she still had playing from the small speaker. 

Drawing away from her kiss, he started down her jaw to the column of her throat. (Y/N) tilted her head back, allowing him more access to her heated skin as he kissed down to the neckline of her dress. Her hands in his hair tightened. 

"Where are you going?" she murmured.

"Gonna take care of you, remember?" he said into her neck, the words melting into her skin, "Jus' like I promised."

With that, he fell to his knees before her, settling between her own spread legs. Her hands shifted, now combing the strands out of his face as she looked down at him. His palms glided over her dress until he found the hem, pushing it up and over her thighs to wrinkle at her waist. 

"That okay, baby?" he asked, suddenly breathless as his eyes met the small part of underwear she had covering her core. 

"Uh-huh," she nodded her head, nails catching on his scalp. 

He shot her a soft smile, enough to dot dimples into his cheeks before her attention was diverted to the feel of his hands sitting on her bare thighs. Hooking his fingers into the waist of her underwear, all she needed was to lift her hips just enough before he was pulling the fabric down her legs. 

The way he looked at her then, after pulling the garment off and fitting his hands between her thighs to widen the gap, brought her back to the first night in his office at the tattoo parlor. He gazed at her like he'd never seen her before, like this was the first time all over again. He didn't have to say anything to let her know that he saw her as something special. 

Planting his lips across the inside of her thigh, the tip of his nose and the fan of his breath brought goosebumps to layer over her skin. He dragged his mouth across the sensitive skin, using his grip on her thighs to keep her steady as he tugged her towards the very edge of the counter—and his face. 

It wasn't until she could feel his breath skimming over closer to her pussy that her muscles bunched, her own lungs stuttering. He peeked up at her through the fan of his lashes, matching her eyes for a lingering moment, leaving her with no other option than to watch as he pressed his lips to the crease between her thighs and her core, her body jumping at the tickling shock that touched her spine. With her hands holding back his hair, her fingers flexed between the strands.

She could feel his smile against her skin as he closed that remaining distance, pushing his lips against her clit. She hadn't realized how wet she'd grown until she pulsed around nothing, her breath stalling. His nose mushed against her mound, his lips puckered around her clit in a sucking kiss. It was enough to have her toes curling, eyes fluttering. 

He lingered on her clit, peeking up at her through the fan of his lashes, for a moment before dipping lower. (Y/N)'s throat ran dry as she watched his tongue sink between her folds, a small whine falling from her lips. A light flickered through his eyes then when he peered up at her, though he didn't stop to tease her or pull away to let out a huff of laughter. Instead, he kept her gaze as he skated the tip of his tongue down the length of her slit, lingering over her shuddering opening. 

Her reaction—a choked moan, flexing hands, and shiver down her spine—was finally enough to have him smiling against her wetness. He pulled away just enough, his breath fanning across her core.

"Feel good, angel?" he asked, punctuating his words with a kiss to her clit. 

With her mouth dropping open, (Y/N) wanted to answer, knew she had the words to give him, but nothing left her lips. She was left with a frantic nod of her head, wiggling until she was precariously dangling from the edge of the counter with her pussy right in Harry's face. His brows bounced over his eyes, a smug smile touching at the corners of his lips. 

Expecting another teasing quip, (Y/N) readied herself to attempt to actually answer him, but her mind was drawn completely blank when he only dove back into her folds. His nose was pressed against her swollen clit, her wetness sliding around his chin. She could feel the motions of his tongue through her slit, his lips kissing her in-between each lick. Eventually, Harry couldn't manage to keep his eyes open, his lids falling closed as he buried his tongue among her taste, the tip peeking against her opening.

It wasn't until he wagged his head, spreading her folds around him with his hands keeping her shaking thighs from closing around him, that (Y/N) found her voice. 

"H—Daddy, I—" she choked out, the call crackling and stilted through her lungs. 

The mentioning of his title only spurred him on it seemed. He attempted to mutter something against her core, something lingering and drawled, though (Y/N) couldn't even begin to decipher his words as they were pressed into her pussy. The vibrations of his voice was enough to rattle through her, his nose still mushed into her puffy clit. 

She just needed that much more, she thought, her toes curling at his back. With her hands in his hair, she attempted to get that more she needed, pulling him closer to her core in hopes of feeling him inside. 

Harry's grip on her thighs tightened then, his eyes peeling open to match her cloudy gaze. Despite her hand in his hair, he drew away with the pillows of his lips barely dragging across her sensitive skin. 

"Close already?" he asked, breathless. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm sorry," she stuttered, swallowing around her dry throat, "I—"

Before she could finish her thought, Harry smeared one last kiss against her clit before he was parting her thighs and standing to the full of his height between her legs. She craned her neck to look up at him just as he fixed his palms to mold to the curve of her cheeks, bringing her in for a kiss. His lips were already swollen by the time he sealed them to hers, a taste lingering on his tongue. (Y/N) acted as his crash pad through the frantic shift, taking all of the affection he was pouring into her. She didn't have to see him to know there was a furrow dipping his brows, his eyes cinched closed as he kissed her with the same intensity he had shared between her legs. With the way he was flushed against her, keeping her upright on the countertop, it didn't take much to feel the bulge straining behind his pants. 

Her breath caught. That wasn't something she'd never completely get used to—knowing he loved touching her enough to get his own satisfaction. 

Harry only kissed her harder, this nose nudging against her own. 

When his hands disappeared from her cheeks, sliding down the length of her body, she expected him to wrap underneath her thighs and hoist her up into his arms. Instead, he only lingered on the bare plush of her hips, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin.

"Baby," he breathed against her mouth, drawing just far enough away for the syllables to be audible. "I need to fuck you." 

If her heart hadn't already been hammering into her ribcage, she's sure it would have started then, the vulgar words ringing in her ears. 

Puckering her lips enough to close the space between the two of them, sharing a small kiss, she nodded her head. "Okay." 

"Right here." 

That had (Y/N) blinking her eyes open, pulling far enough away to peek at his still closed gaze. Instinctively, she wanted to protest, to tell him to take her to the bedroom where there was privacy and a locked door. But those were instincts that came before they had their own space, before they were void of roommates. There was no need to hide if Harry was the only one around to catch her in that pleasure. 

When her pause lingered, Harry finally cracked his eyes open, the pupils dilated. She could see the darting of his gaze as he took in the details of her eyes, the fan of her lashes, the shape of her nose. 

"Need me to stop?" he asked, his breathing coming out in heavy swatches. 

"No, no," she answered in a rush, looping her arms around his neck, "Just... We don't have roommates." 

A small smile curved his lips. "We don't." 

"This is our house." 

"It is." 

"We can do this right here." 

His grin grew. "We can do this right here." 

(Y/N) couldn't help the beaming smile that took over her features. Taking advantage of her arms around his neck, she pulled him in for another kiss. It was messy, a bit off center with their mouths smeared across one another, though that was only because she couldn't completely erase her smile. 

"Y'want to?" he murmured into her mouth, his hands on her hips sliding until he was palming the full of her thighs.

"Please," she answered, the word falling from her lips without a second thought. She could only imagine the dimple that bloomed into his cheek then. 

Shifting between her thighs, he tipped his head to trail his lips onto her cheek. "Get me out, baby." 

Her hesitation lasted only a moment before she processed his instruction, her hands sliding from where she had them around his neck. She had the privilege of tracing down his body, feeling the blocks of muscle on his abdomen and the soft pudge on his hips. Reaching the waist of his pants, her hands grew just a bit frantic, fumbling as she moved. 

"'S alright, lovebug," he murmured to her, dotting his lips onto the height of her cheekbone, "Jus' me." 

That was the problem, she wanted to tell him. She wanted him now, and she couldn't make it happen fast enough. 

Unfastening the waist of his trousers, she pushed them down until they hit just the middle of his thighs. She brushed his skin, feeling the coarse hair on his thighs brushing her hands. Peeking between them, she could see the way his cock stood hard between his thighs, the black fabric of his briefs straining around him. 

Hooking her fingers into the band of his underwear, she carefully pulled the garment down, tugging until they were in line with his trousers. His cock bobbed against his stomach, hitting the material of his shirt, with a glistening stain left in its wake. 

Wrapping a leg around his hip, (Y/N) didn't even realize she was trying to pull him closer until she felt herself teeter on the edge of the counter. Harry caught her with a huff of laughter leaving his lips. 

"Careful, love," he muttered, hooking an arm around her waist while the other stayed right on the full of her thigh.

"Sorry," she breathed, planting her hands on his chest though she couldn't keep her gaze off of his length, "I'm just..." 

"Ready for me?" he said, posing a question as much as he was finishing her sentence. 

"Yeah," she said, nodding her head with her fingers curling into the material of his shirt, "Please, daddy." 

She swore she could see his cock jump at her words. 

"Okay, baby," he told her, his voice stilted some, "Hold me, 'kay?" 

Unfurling her fingers from his shirt, she curled her arms around his neck and hugged herself to his chest. His cock fit snug between them, the base pressed into her clit enough to draw a shaky breath from her lungs. Harry's own breath became strained, his chest stuttering.

He held her steady with his arm around her waist while his other slid from her thigh. She could feel the faint touches of his fingertips as he felt around, wrapping his fingers around his cock before lining up with her core. The first touch of his tip against her pulsing hole, her breath caught, her spine stiffening.

Giving her a moment to breathe, he ran the head through her fold. With every bump to her clit and lingering nudge against her opening, she was reminded just how close she'd been before when he had been on his knees between her thighs. She curled her leg around his own that much more, drawing him nearer. 

"Good?" he crooned, the word coming out in a breath.

She didn't even think before, "Yes, daddy," was spilling from her lips. 

That was all Harry needed to hear before the nudges turned into a full thrust of his hips, pressing his cock into her core. A whimpering moan built in her chest as he sheathed himself inside her, her walls parting for him with shuddering pulses. Harry had his own lingering moan that sounded in her ear, elongated and low as he finally got to feel her around him for the first time since moving in. 

"Been too long," he panted, smearing his lips against the hinge of her jaw as she hugged him tighter. 

"It-It's been a week," she told him, stuttering over her tongue as he reared his hips back. Feeling the ridge of his head glide against her and catching on her entrance was enough to catapult her heart to her throat. 

"Too long," he affirmed, thrusting forward, his hand landing on her hip to keep her steady as she was pushed back at the force. "Too long for daddy not to have you, baby. Not gonna happen again, okay? Not since I've got you all t'myself now." 

His words melted into her skin as he kissed down her jaw, his hips curating a pace that had her body pressing back into his anchoring arm. She swore she could feel his head reaching places she had forgotten existed until he was inside her. His base smushed into her clit every time he bottomed out, giving her a jolting touch before he disappeared again in favor of sinking through her walls. She was sure he could feel that jolt just as much with the way she tightened into a snug hold around his length. 

"Not gonna happen again, daddy," she repeated, feeling a bit delirious as she threw her head back, just barely missing the edge of the cabinets as she presented more of her neck for him to kiss. "All to myself now." 

She could feel the huff of his laughter fanning across her heated skin as his lips met the neckline of her dress. "You've got me all to yourself, baby."

Her thighs bunched around his hips, the muscles tightened when he removed his steadying hand on her thigh. She rocked against the counter with every thrust of his hips, the force knocking a small noise loose from her chest each time. 

Curling his fingers around the corseted top of her dress, Harry pulled it down until her bare chest was put on display for the warm air between them to reach. Moving her hands up until she had her fingers dancing through the long curls of his hair, she combed her fingers through the strands as he kissed down her chest with his own hand landing on the thick of her thigh. 

His lips planted a trail over her skin, outlining the swells of her breasts and the line of her cleavage before catching her nipple. The sucking kiss had the pit of her stomach twisting and tying into a tight spiral, knocking her lungs against her ribs in favor of making room for the warmth filling her abdomen. It wasn't a touch she was usually accustomed to, but every now and then, Harry toyed with her body just right to have the feel of his mouth on her chest rivaling that of his touch on her clit. 

"Daddy," she squeaked, her fingers curled tight in his hair, "I think—I—" 

"I know, love," he murmured against her chest, the tip of his nose skimming the flesh, "I can feel it. Y'cum whenever you're ready, yeah? Let daddy have it—I've missed it." 

Even if it was a bit silly—something she may feel embarrassed over with a clearer mind—(Y/N) swore she could feel his voice against her heart, the rumble of his words sinking through her muscle and bone and straight to the pumping chambers. 

"I missed you, too," she stuttered out, her tongue thick in her mouth, "Missed you fu—"

A pinch settled between her brows when she realized what she had been about to say. 

"Missed me what, baby? What were y'gonna say?" Harry prodded, dragging his mouth up from her chest to land on the point of her chin in a searing kiss. 

"Um—I don't know," she breathed, attempting to catch him in a kiss before he pulled just too far out of reach.

Between them, the sound of her folds parting for him with her slick making a mess of their legs sounded within the space, suddenly louder than any soft song that could be playing from her heart shaped speaker. Harry chanced a look down, catching the way his length glistened in the low remaining light with his mouth dropping into a small gape as his breath came out in pants. His arm around her back tightened, angling the small of her back just right to allow him deeper inside. 

"Were y'gonna say y'missed me fucking you?" he asked, breathless as he couldn't tear his eyes from where they were joined. 

Combing her fingers through his hair, she caught the long strands falling in his face. She swallowed around her dry throat. "May-Maybe," she peeped, stuttering through the word as he surged his hips forward in a particularly deep stroke. 

A deep groan rumbled through his chest, his arm around her and his hand on her thigh tightening as he fell into her. His face was buried in her neck, his lips brushing the column of her throat. 

"Will y'say it for me, angel? Please," he murmured, his voice pitching with the plea. 

Had there been anything going on in her head, (Y/N) might have protested, just as she always playfully did when he poked about this same subject. But her head was too full and too empty at the same time. Her only feasible option was to give him what he wanted—especially when he was taking care of her the way he was. 

"I-I missed you fucking me, daddy." 

The heavy groan he let out dripped over her shoulder, warm and rumbling. His own curses filtered through after, his hips still knocking against her own with every stroke as he bottomed out inside her. 

"Never gonna let it happen again, right, love?" he panted, sounding a bit delirious as he began to babble into her neck. 

His bubbling words became the soundtrack as he felt his hand slip from her thigh to head between their bodies. He pressed his palm into her mound with his fingers stretching across the small of her tummy, leaving his thumb to dig right against the pad of her clit. 

"Can y'say it again? Please?" he asked, bringing her back to the moment with decipherable words. 

Her eyes fell closed, her too stimulated from everything to worry about the world beyond the cocoon of their bodies. Every muscle seemed to be bunched that much tighter, pressure leaking through until there would be nowhere else for it to go, but out. 

"I-I'm so close," she whimpered, clinging to him as he mouthed at her throat, his cock twitching inside her, "Keep fucking me, H." 

A moment later did (Y/N) feel the way he shuddered against her, his hips lingering once he bottomed out, only to roll against her. His mouth was in a gape at her neck though no noise came out, leaving him slack-jawed as the first paint of his cum roped out. Though he attempted to keep his thumb on her clit moving, he was far too heavy headed as he rolled his hips into hers, soaking in his own orgasm. Wetness flooded her walls, her insides shuddering as she felt each motion of his cock inside her, hyper aware of every ridge and minute rock of his hips.

"Fuck," he muttered, her first clue that he was floating back down to earth, "I love you—shit, 'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, why are you sorry?" she breathed, combing her fingers through his hair. She couldn't help but to wriggle in his hold, her own release teetering after feeling him cum inside her. 

"I—You're supposed to be first," he said, breathing heavily into her neck once the last dredges of his pleasure seeped out of his system. 

"I'm fine, it's fine," she smiled, pulling him from her neck only to press her lips to his, "It's okay, you d—" 

Her words were choked off when he started circling her clit with new vigor, rearing his hips back just enough before stroking into her once more. Though he was slowly softening and she could tell the feel of her walls sucking around him was too much, he didn't do anything other than tuck his bottom lip between her two and work her back to the edge she had been balancing on. 

It didn't take long for her muscles to bunch under her skin, her spine to stiffen, and stomach to mold into a tight ball. Her toes curled from where she had her legs wrapped around him, her fingers doing the same in his hair. 

"'M here, baby," he murmured, smearing his lips against hers in a kiss, "Cum for me." 

With a flutter of her lashes as her eyes fell closed and a bubbling call of his name falling from her tongue, (Y/N) felt every bunch of pressure in her body release. Her walls shuddered just as her lungs did, her breath stilted. A heat surged through her system that felt cold by the time it touched her fingertips and toes. Her clit pulsed under his thumb, her insides tightening around his softening cock and the mess he'd left inside her. 

Harry worked her through it as best he could, letting her take her time in the clouds before every touch became too much for her. Though she kept her arms wound around his neck, she loosened her legs from around his waist, leaving him free to pull out with a slick sound filtering through the kitchen.

(Y/N)'s breathing came in pants as she closed her thighs around his hips, knocking his hand just off center enough to show him she'd had enough for the time being. 

"Harry," she breathed, an aftershock reaching up her spine.

"(Y/N)," he answered just before giving her a small peck, a smile on his lips. 

Hugging herself to him, jumping when her sensitive clit touched his soft cock, she tucked her head under his chin. 

"We just had sex in our kitchen," she murmured into the dip of his collarbones. 

A laugh fell from his lips, loud and boisterous. Arranging his arms around her to reciprocate her hold with his palms pressed into the planes of her back, he squeezed her that much tighter to his chest. "We did, didn't we?" 

"Is that gross?" she peeped, suddenly hyper aware of the cold countertop under her legs. There wasn't much time left before she was sure there would be a bigger mess to clean up given just how slick her core felt. 

He shrugged around her, giving her a kiss to the top of her head. "Did y'like it?"

She answered him in a shy nod as if she hadn't been begging him to fuck her just a handful of minutes before. 

"Then, no, 's not gross." 

Smiling into his throat, she melted into him. Even with the boning of her dress poking into her skin, the way her slick was beginning to cool on the inside of her thighs, she could see herself sticking to his moment for as long as she was allowed. 

"I had so much fun with you tonight, baby," Harry muttered, his voice as soft as the touch of his lips to her hair, "Thank you." 

"I had fun, too," she told him, peeling away just enough to look up at him with moony eyes, "Thank you for wanting to live with me." 

Dimples appeared in his cheeks, his smile tender to match the way he looked at her. "Didn't have much of a choice, did I? 'S not normal to send half of m'heart to another house every night, is it?" 

His corny, sticky-sweet words only served to make her heart bloat and reach for his own as if it could leap out of her chest if it tried hard enough. A bubbly laugh fell from her lips, (Y/N) hugging him that much tighter with her cheek laying against his chest. 

"But, seriously," Harry amended, his voice void of amusement as he murmured against her hair, "Thank you for choosing me—I feel lucky everyday that I get to have a life with you like this." 

Every bit of laughter in her chest waned out in favor of fluffy affection tickling the chambers of her heart. She nuzzled closer to him, basking in his warmth and the scent of his skin. She wondered how long it would be until she had those same notes imprinted on her, how long it would take for Harry to linger with notes of cherry on his clothing.

"I love you," she told him, sincerity dripping from each syllable. 

"I love you more," he cemented, dropping a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

Before she had a chance to playfully argue back, Harry shifted his hold on her, adjusting his hands until they slid underneath her bottom. He lifted her from the countertop, (Y/N) clinging to him with a gasp escaping her throat. 

"What are you doing?" she rushed out, wrapping her limbs around him as tight as she could manage.

A bubble of laughter plumed from him. "We've got to clean up and then look at the damage we left here. Or did y'plan on sleeping in your princess dress?" 

The thought of spending the night in the boned corset without panties or even socks on had a frown embedded on her lips. "No. Clean first." 

"That's what I thought," he smiled, carrying her off with a kiss planted on her temple. 

On their way to the bedroom, (Y/N) laid her cheek against his shoulder, the walls of their home passing them by. Her gaze lingered on the photos of them littering the walls, the memories she'd made with him over the short time she'd had her Harry in her life. 

She wondered how many picture frames the walls could hold. They had a whole lifetime now to share many more special moments, and she didn't want to miss a moment.

—————

ahhhh! im so happy I finally got this part of their story out!! thank you so much for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any fun ideas or anything at all :)

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

That's My Man

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~500

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Spencer gets a haircut and you have a most pleasant reaction to it.

Square Filled: holidays (2023) for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

It’s been an entire month since you’ve seen your boyfriend but he’s back now. He spent Christmas and New Years with his mother back in Las Vegas while you stayed with your family in Virginia. You two are still so new that you haven’t had the chance to meet his family, and you weren't going to let your first meeting be the holidays.

If and when you’re going to do it, you want to do it right.

While the holidays might be over, the snow is still coming down in waves, making this a white winter. Snow is probably your favorite kind of weather because you get to create angels and snowmen and forts and anything else you want. You want to do that and go ice skating with Spencer tomorrow when the sun is out but for right now, you’re going to have a movie marathon.

He’s staying over for the entire weekend and you can’t be more excited than you are right now.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice comes from the front hallway. The door opens to face a solid wall fifteen feet from the door. To the left is the kitchen and to the right is the living room. “I’m here!”

You gave him a key pretty early on because you already knew he was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. It’s one of those things where you just know. You love him so much and you don’t want to waste any time with him.

“In here!” you call from the right. Spencer shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the hook in front of him before closing and locking the door. He walks into the living room and you turn to greet him when a confused frown sits on your face. “Why are you wearing a beanie?”

Spencer hates hats. He doesn’t like the feel of them or how he looks in them. Why is he wearing a beanie? He hasn’t all winter.

“I don’t know. I liked how it looked on me.”

“Mmhmm.” You get up and walk over to him. “Now what’s the real reason?” He looks shy as if he’s embarrassed to tell you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Just… don’t laugh, okay?”

“Okay.”

He takes off his beanie and your jaw practically drops to the floor. He messes with his hair to make it look good but you’re fixed on that the fact that he got a haircut. He doesn't have long curly hair anymore. It’s short and slightly spiked. There are longer pieces in the front but he’s cut it all off.

God fucking damn. He looks so goddamn fine.

“Please say something,” he sighs, unable to take the silence anymore.

“Oh, my God.” He lowers his head knowing you must hate it. “Look at my man!” He snaps his head up as a slight blush creeps up his neck. “Damn, you look so good! Is that Spencer Reid? My gorgeous man?”

“Okay, stop,” he smiles, blushing profusely. You jump into his arms and kiss his face all over, and he tips his head back and laughs. “Okay, okay, okay!”

You pull away with a loving smile and keep your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You look very handsome.”

“Thank you,” he smiles.

Choosing you has got to be the best thing he could have ever done for himself.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[adriennebarnes]

Can You Be My Boyfriend?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N is Ferrari’s social media manager and when one of the mechanics doesn’t take no for an answer, she pretends she’s dating a certain Ferrari driver.

Warning: grammatical and spelling errors cuz I don’t proofread

A/N: i just wanted to say thank you so much for the love y’all gave “Prince of Ferrari”, it means a lot to me as a new Charles Leclerc writer. I hope y’all like this one too, just like Olivia Rodrigo, I am so American,

Y/N walked into Fred’s office.

“Mr. Vasseur, I had an idea for a new C2 challenge.” Y/N said.

“What did you have in mind, Y/N?” Fred asked.

“I was thinking we make dishes from each place we go to. Like Cuban food from Miami, Texas barbecue ribs, paella from Spain, and we have Charles and Carlos match the dishes to their flag. I personally think it would be fun, you know? Or we could do a video where the drivers tell us from which Grand Prix the photo was taken.” Y/N suggested.

“Those are very good ideas, Y/N, see if the boys are up to it, will you? Figure out when the best time is to film that.” Fred said.

“Yes, will do.” Y/N said and left his office. She walked to the living room (does the hospitality have a living room? I don’t know) to see Carlos and Charles chatting to away.

“There she is! Como has estado, hermosa?” Carlos asked Y/N, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek.

“Ha estado súper bien, un poquito cansada, pero nada que no se puede arreglar con un café.” Y/N said, her and Carlos laughed.

“I understand half of that.” Charles said.

“Now you know how I feel when you speak French.” Y/N said. “Anyway, as your social media manager, I had an idea for an upcoming challenge, we have to make the most of this season.” Y/N said.

“We hear you, mon ange, what’s the idea?” Charles asked.

“Can you guys guess what Grand Prix this is based off the picture?” Y/N asked, showing them a picture on her phone.

“That’s when I won in Monza.” Charles answered.

“Good, this is your challenge, guessing Grand Prixs based off a photo.” Y/N said putting her phone away. “It’s not much, but it’s different from what you guys have done in the past. You could also match dishes to their countries.” Y/N said.

“Sounds like a fun challenge.” Carlos said.

“Good to hear. I’m gonna be with the photographer, he’s taking photos of the new livery and I need to approve them before I post them on Instagram. See ya later, okay?” Y/N said, stepping into the garage where she sees the photographer looking over the photos on his camera.

“Y/N! You’re here, tell me what you think, and be brutally honest. Do you think they came out to blurry?” The photographer, Daniel, asked. Y/N started looking them over.

“They look great, honestly, it matches Ferrari’s instagram feed, you did a good job. Can you upload them to the computer?” Y/N asked and Daniel said that he could. He left Y/N alone on the garage and that’s when one of the mechanics, Ruggero, approached her.

“Sei bellissima, a more mío.” Ruggero told her. Y/N rolled her eyes,

“Grazie, Rugge, what do you want?” Y/N asked.

“You are very hostile towards me, you know? I might be able to forgive you if you go out with me.” Ruggero said.

“Not gonna happen, Rugge, aren’t you tired of getting rejected?” Y/N asked.

“I bounce back. Come on, amore, why won’t you let me take you out? You think you’re too good for me?” Ruggero asked.

“What are you talking about? Oh my god, I don’t think I’m too good for you, where the hell did you get that from?” Y/N asked, so confused at the turn this conversation took.

“Well that’s the only thing I could think of, you come from the states, you clearly think you’re better than Europeans.” Ruggero said and Y/N had enough of this nonsense.

“I have a boyfriend! Que pesado eres, me cae.” Y/N said.

“Really, who’s the boyfriend?” Ruggero asked. Y/N saw Charles walking into the garage.

“Muñeco, there you are!” Y/N said loudly, walking up to Charles and kissed him. Charles widened his eyes in shock but kissed her back and they both pulled away, Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest and Charles rubbed her back.

“Congratulations, does Fred know?” Ruggero asked.

“It’s private right now, we’re just seeing how this goes.” Y/N replied and as soon as Ruggero left, Y/N pulled away from Charles. “I am so sorry! Ruggero wouldn’t leave me alone so I had to tell him I had a boyfriend and honestly whoever walked through that door was going to be the victim of my lie but I am glad it’s you and not Carlos, mainly because Ruggero knows Rebecca is dating him.” Y/N explained quickly but Charles was still distracted, thinking about the kiss Y/N gave him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Charles asked.

“Can you be my boyfriend?” Y/N asked.

“I Don’t think we could pull this off, Y/N. We work together.” Charles said.

“We would only have to pretend we’re dating around Ruggero, no one else has to know, I promise.” Y/N said.

“Okay fine.” Charles said, him and Y/N were walking back to the main area (I don’t know how this works) and Carlos was standing next to Fred and Ruggero with a smile.

“Congratulations, cabrón,” Carlos told charles, hugging him. “You two are adorable.” Charles turned to look at Y/N with a look that said ‘no one will know, yeah right’

“I didn’t know you two were dating.” Fred commented.

“It’s still new.” Charles replied, putting his arm around Y/N.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with the social media posts, it should be fine.” Fred said before walking away. Ruggero smiled before going back to the garage.

“Now I know why you always called her ‘mon ange’, que coqueto saliste, eh charles.” Carlos said, leaving Y/N and Charles alone, Y/N pulled away to face Charles.

“Well so much for that plan, I really am sorry, Charles.” Y/N said.

“You know what? It’s alright, it’s okay, pretending around here should be easy enough, this can’t get worse, right?” Charles asked.

“I Don’t think it can. How about I buy you lunch for getting you into this situation? I swear I did not mean for this to happen.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, sure let’s get lunch, where do you want to go?” Charles asked.

“Well since this lunch is my treat, you choose where we should go.” Y/N said. Charles and Y/N walked to the parking lot together and Y/N was walking towards her car when Charles grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards his car. “Seriously?”

“Well what kind of boyfriend would I be if we went to lunch in different cars?” Charles asked.

“Yeah, makes sense, Ruggero is watching through the window too, let’s go.” Y/N said. Charles opened the passenger door and Y/N got in, he close the door behind her, ever there gentleman, and he got into the driver seat. He turned on the car, and gave Y/N his phone so she can choose the music.

They arrived at the restaurant and like always, there were fans recording Charles and Y/N in the car, leaving the car, eating at the restaurant, talking, laughing, within the hour, Charles and Y/N were trending on Instagram, Twitter (X), and TikTok. As they waited for the check, Y/N was scrolling on TikTok when she found a video of her and Charles in the car.

“Charles, i think our ‘relationship’ went public.” Y/N said, showing him her phone. Charles’s eyes widened.

“Cant say I’m not surprised, I just thought videos wouldn’t be posted until later, you know?” Charles said and Y/N put her phone away.

“We haven’t even been ‘dating’ two hours and now everyone knows. You have no idea how sorry I am, I feel so bad for dragging you into this.” Y/N said.

“None of this wouldn’t have happened if Ruggero understood the word ‘no’ so you are fine, I’m glad I was able to help. But what was that thing you called me? ‘Muñeco’? Why did you call me that?” Charles asked.

“So ‘muñeco’ means ‘doll’, you have a pretty face, everyone says you’re good looking, you know you’re good looking. So muñeco just suits you, okay, especially with those dimples.” Y/N said, Charles smirked a little.

“You think I have a pretty face?” Charles asked teasingly.

“Great, I boosted your ego, like your head wasn’t big enough already. You literally said in one of those C2 challenges when Carlos had your photo that if you were a woman, you would be in love with yourself.” Y/N said. The waiter came in with the check and Y/N was going to take it but Charles was faster. “Dude, I told you I was gonna pay.”

“It would look good if you paid, there are cameras everywhere apparently.” Charles said, placing his credit card with the check. The waiter took the check.

“Then I’ll Apple Pay you. You gonna train today?” Y/N asked.

“Yes actually, come with me? You could post it to my story.” Charles asked. The waiter came back with Charles’s card.

“Yeah, I can do that. But we gotta go to Scuderia Ferrari for my car.” Y/N said, getting up from the table, Charles getting up as well.

“I think it can stay there overnight.” Charles said.

“You want me to spend the entire day with you? You’re insane.” Y/N commented as they were leaving the restaurant.

“Maybe, but it is to keep up appearances.” Charles said.

“I guess, but how long do we say we’ve been dating?” Y/N asked, getting into Charles’s car, he does the same.

“4 months seems good, don’t you think?” Charles asked.

“I guess that’s plausible.” Y/N said, Charles starts the car and drives off.

“Do you miss New York?” Charles asked.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked.

“You travel a lot with us and you moved to Monaco for work, but do you ever miss New York? Your family? I know I miss my family when I’m away for races.” Charles said.

“I miss the food in New York, I can’t get decent tacos al pastor in Monaco, I gotta wait til the Mexican Grand Prix for them.” Y/N stated. “But yeah, I do miss New York.”

“You should ask for vacation time so you could go.” Charles said.

“I Don’t think they’ll give it to me, but thanks.” Y/N said.

For a week, Y/N and Charles have been spotted together everywhere, at races obviously, with Joris, Andrea, Doni, and Victoria, even with Charles’s family. Right now Y/N was with Charles at a club in Monaco. Y/N was at a table with Charles was at the bar getting drinks. Y/N noticed a girl flirting with Charles, touching his hand, before he pulled away with two drinks for him and Y/N.

“Charles, can we talk for a second?” Y/N asked.

“Sure, what’s on your mind, mon ange?” Charles asked, the nickname still causing butterflies in Y/N’s stomach.

“If you wanted to hook up with that girl, you can. I don’t want to have you tied down for a fake relationship.” Y/N said.

“I wasn’t interested in her at all, you know.” Charles commented.

“Really? What happens when the next girl that hits on you is more your type? I don’t want to hold you back, we are friends after all.” Y/N said.

“I have a confession to make.” Charles said, Y/N nodded her head for Charles to continue. “I’ve liked you for a while. Before you kissed me, it was a little crush, I thought it would have went away, but being with you this past week made my crush grow stronger. You don’t have to feel the same way, I just wanted to get this off my chest.” Y/N was shocked. Charles usually went for Instagram models, but he actually likes her, this was her dream come true.

“I’ve liked you for a while too, I just never thought you would see me that way.” Y/N said.

“I’m going to kiss you right now, okay?” Charles whispered, getting closer to Y/N, looking at her lips then back into her eyes, Y/N nodded, leaning in until their lips touched. It was a soft, gentle kiss, until Charles gained more confidence to do more. They pulled away. “Will you be my girlfriend? For real, this time?” Charles asked.

“Yes I will.” Y/N responded, they kissed again.

The End

Was this good? I think it was good, the pacing is weird, but I had no idea where this was going, just saying. Was it just as good as “prince of Ferrari”? Probably not, but I hope y’all liked it, should I keep writing Charles Leclerc fanfics?

[stylesharrys]

special smokes [weedrry]

summary: harry and y/n struggle with their self-control after sharing a joint at niall’s house party. 

word count: 3,774

warnings: mentions and consumption of marijuana (smoking a joint) and alcohol, smut; kissing, teasing, swearing, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, light spanking 

a/n: at first i had no intention of following up on weedrry and y/n but so many requested it and the more i considered it, the more ideas i kept getting hehe. they’re probably one of my favourite couples to write at this point and i have some other ideas in the woodwork for them aswell!! this is technically part two of special brownies but it can also be read as a standalone :) anyway, i hope you enjoy darlings and happy belated 420 hehe <3

//

They promised to never talk about it again. But that didn’t stop either of them lying in bed at night, reminiscing how each other tasted. It didn’t stop Harry from thinking about his roommate as he touched himself in the shower and painted the tiles with his come. Just like it didn’t stop Y/N from pretending her thick dildo was Harry’s cock when she got herself off at three in the morning.

Neither of them was aware of the other's shenanigans. Harry thought Y/N was too embarrassed to think about it and Y/N thought Harry just forgot. Of course, Tom’s none the wiser to anything that’s happened. Even living with the two, he’s yet to notice that slight shift in the atmosphere – that tension that seems to follow wherever they go together.  

And tonight is no different. They’re both slightly turned on at the thought of one another as they sit huddled around the fire in Niall’s garden. He’s one of the few friends who was sensible enough to apply for a house rather than an apartment, and Harry is always sure to reap the benefits of it. 

It’s nearly ten o’clock and the house party Niall threw for his birthday is in full swing. Y/N recognises a few faces, not nearly as many as Harry (who’s known to have been a bit of a serial dater in the past), but it doesn’t change her mood in the slightest. 

She’s been perched on a sun lounger for the past forty-five minutes, five drinks in and slowly starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. She promised herself she wouldn’t drink too heavily tonight – not when she knows how sleepy she gets with alcohol. She doesn’t want to be found passed out on some random person's bed that Niall houseshares with. 

Harry’s been sporting the same beer for the past half an hour. Much like Y/N, he also wasn’t really in the mood to get shitfaced, despite it being his best friend's birthday. He has a job interview tomorrow afternoon and he cannot deal with cradling a hangover at the same time. 

His eyes have been on her body most of the night. Despite living together, he’s hardly seen Y/N at home in the past two weeks since… well… you know. At first, he thought she was just busy, but now he’s starting to get the idea that she’s avoiding him. 

Harry’s sure it’s down to embarrassment, and as much as he wants his friend back, he promised he wouldn’t bring it up again. He doesn’t want to embarrass Y/N any further. It hurts his ego a little bit if he’s honest. Harry struggles to understand if she’s embarrassed she slept with her friend, or if she’s embarrassed because she slept with him.

If he pulled his head out of his ass, he might realise that it’s the former. Mostly. Because the other half of what she’s feeling is pure lust. Y/N struggles to even look at Harry the same since they hooked up two weeks ago. When she looks at him, all she sees is him naked – so she’s certain he sees the same when he looks at her. 

She takes another swig of her drink in an attempt to drown the groan that tries to escape. God, it’s criminal how even just the thought of him naked manages to get her worked up like this. He’s her friend for crying out loud. She needs to get her thoughts in order.

Harry’s telling himself the same thing. Struggling to think of anything other than kissing up her smooth, exposed thighs and burying his head under her little sundress right there, in front of everyone to see. His cock stiffens slightly in his pants and he shifts a little in his chair – as discretely as he can. 

“Who’s up for a round of spin the bottle!”

The group in the garden chant a groan in unison at Niall’s suggestion. “We’re not fifteen, Ni… nobody wants to play spin the bottle.” Alfie pipes up from his crisscrossed position on the patio floor. 

Niall rolls his eyes and places an empty wine bottle in the middle of the group anyway. Involuntarily, everyone begins to form a circle around it, knees knocking as they do. Y/N remains on the deck chair, pulling the back up so she sits upright like Harry who’s still opposite her.

Niall gets comfortable on the ground, his eyes alight like a kid on Christmas. He’s about to take his turn when he furrows his brows and begins to pat down his pockets like he’s forgotten something. 

“Anybody got a smoke?”

“Nah,” Jessie calls back, “I’ve got a couple of joints, though.” 

Harry and Y/N’s eyes find one another as their bodies grow paralysed at the mention of the one thing that got them in this situation in the first place. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

“Oooh,” Niall grins, “Jessie’s got the special smokes… come on then, lad. Light ‘em up and pass ‘em around.” 

Y/N’s heart begins to thump against her ribcage as she tears her gaze away from Harry’s. There’s no way in Hell this is happening right now. She tells herself to calm down, that she doesn’t have to have a pull of the joint. 

But as it makes its way around the circle until it’s between her fingers, she finds herself taking a long, deep drag of it anyway. It burns the back of her throat, as weed always has, but she holds it for as long as she can before slowly exhaling and passing it back down to Niall who sits in front of her. 

When she lifts her gaze, her eyes lock on Harry’s. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face as he holds the second joint between his fingers – like he knows they’re going to end up in the same situation as last time and he’s more than okay with that. Harry takes a drag just as Y/N had and passes it off to Genevieve next to him. 

Harry manages to hold it in longer than Y/N can and he keeps his eyes locked on hers when he slowly exhales. When the joint makes its way back to Y/N and she’s taking her second pull, she’s giving in to all the dirty thoughts in her head. Her wicked smirk matches Harry’s now and the game of spin the bottle begins. 

Niall starts first, landing on Genevieve who he kisses quite happily. Gen spins and lands on Jessie. Then when Jessie spins, he lands on… Y/N. 

Her eyes are quick to flicker between him and Harry as she registers the situation. There’s a third and fourth joint passing through the group and for a moment, she’s too stoned to realise what’s going on. 

There’s a look on Harry’s face, though – an unamused one. His jaw is set tightly and his brows are gently pinched as he watches Jessie approach Y/N with a lopsided grin. He doesn’t understand why anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. And Y/N doesn’t understand why she feels so weird about being kissed by someone else in front of him. 

But she welcomes Jessie’s lips against hers anyway. It’s soft, gentle. He’s not a bad kisser, but after a few seconds, he pulls away and hands her the joint before returning to his seat. She looks to Harry again with pursed lips and he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek. 

Y/N takes another pull for the joint and reaches for the bottle when Niall’s hand on hers stops her. 

“I have an idea to make this more interesting.” 

She looks at him, eyebrow raised. 

“You have to hook up with the person it lands on.”

Her eyes widen and a laugh rumbles from her chest. “Niall, you can’t make me hook up with anyone. That’s not how this game works. You’re not fucking Cupid.” 

Niall frowns, displeased by her attitude. He crosses his arms over his chest and pinches the joint from her fingers, huffing. “Fine.” 

Y/N spins the bottle, leaning back as she watches it rotate until it lands on Harry. His eyes are on hers, hungry. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat, stepping between people as she approaches him. 

Harry cranes his head up, still not entirely happy that she kissed Jessie, but he welcomes her mouth on his instantly. They’re lustful, almost forgetting their surroundings as Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. She’s about to do the same, to tangle her fingers in his hair when whistling and cheering breaks them apart. 

They’re both incredibly flushed and hot as Y/N moves back to her seat, licking over her bottom lip for another distant taste of him. Harry’s no better, his cock beginning to swell. He clears his throat and leans down to take his turn.

There’s a resounding gasp as it lands on Y/N and they're forced to kiss again, this time Harry approaching Y/N and kissing her a little hungrier. When she spins her turn, it lands back on Harry and the group is growing both tired and a little suspicious of the game. 

It gets harder and harder for them to keep their hands to themselves. The stolen kisses feed the fire in their bellies and Niall is quick to call off the game and suggest some truth or dare instead, like the fifteen-year-old he seems to be. 

Both Y/N and Harry hardly listen to the game unfold. Both are too stoned and lust-filled to pay attention to anything. They’re stealing glances from across the circle, sharing knowing looks that they’re both desperate to escape everyone else and hide away together somewhere. 

It goes on like this for another ten minutes and pinching the joint from Niall’s hand, Harry takes initiative and stands from his chair. “Y/N, shall we go and sort out Ni’s present now?” 

He’s got a brow raised expectantly and her eyes widen at his little fib. They both miss the way Niall looks between them with a beaming smile full of excitement. 

“You’s got me a present?” 

Y/N blinks, finally looking at her friend. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, we completely forgot. Do you mind if we get it sorted? It’s not quite finished yet.” She lies through her teeth. 

Harry’s smirk grows tenfold at the way she plays along with the little game and Niall nods his head. 

“Thanks, Ni,” Harry says kindly, voice a bit condescending but Niall’s too stoned to notice. “Do you mind if I smoke this in the house?” 

Niall waves his hand dismissively. “I don’t care, I do it all the time.” 

Harry looks back to Y/N, tilting his head to the door with a smirk. She follows him inside, giddy with lust and anticipation. He takes her hand in his, guiding her as he weaves through other party-goers until they reach the stairs. It’s a little quieter when they reach the top, Harry opening doors and quickly closing them when he finds they’re already occupied. 

He’s growing frustrated, only one room left that he hasn’t checked – Niall’s room. He tugs them both inside when he realises it’s empty, closing and locking the door behind them. Harry takes a pull of the joint and leaves it hanging between his lips as his fingers work on the buttons at the top of Y/N’s sundress. 

She’s full of adrenaline and arousal, unable to think clearly – her mind far too consumed by lust. Harry pops open just enough buttons to reveal her bare chest, breasts exposed to his hungry eyes and he groans. 

Taking the joint from his lips, he brings it to Y/N’s, encouraging her to take a hit. She does as instructed as Harry’s hands find her tits, kneading softly before he leans down to envelop her left nipple in his warm mouth. 

She exhales the smoke a bit prematurely, taking another pull to make up for it and with her free hand, her fingers tangle into his brown locks. 

“Harry,” she breathes and it’s like crack to him; hearing his name tumble off her lips like that. God, he wants that on repeat in his mind forever. 

He nips at the underswell of her breast, pinching the perk nipple between his fingers. “What do you want?” he mumbles against the fleshy skin.

Y/N tugs at the roots of his hair, forcing his head up until their eyes are level. She places the joint between his lips now and slowly begins to sink to her knees. 

“I want to taste you.” 

Harry’s eyes are blown and bloodshot as she begins to unbutton his pants, shimmying them down his thighs just enough to allow his cock to spring free. He’s bigger than she remembers him to be; thick and full and his ruddy tip begins to leak with arousal.

Y/N laps at his slit, allowing herself a taste. It’s an unholy sight – the way her breasts gently move as she closes her mouth around him. In Harry’s intoxicated state, everything feels so much more heightened. Her mouth feels warmer, wetter… the whole thing feels filthy and he loves it. 

She’s pressing slopping kisses along the length of him, angling her face to take his balls into her hot mouth as she pays them a little more attention. She pulls off him with a gentle kiss, staring up with doe eyes and a devilish grin. 

“Fuck my throat.”

Harry could’ve come there and then, hearing those words fall from her lips. He takes another drag of the joint before pinching it back between his fingers and placing his open palms on the side of her head – the smoke from the joint no doubt clinging to her hair. 

If she was sober, she’d tell him off for it. But she’s not and she doesn’t. 

Instead, she relaxes her jaw as her mouth opens and her tongue lays flat as Harry guides his cock back to the waiting hole. Taking a shaky breath, his hips slowly begin to move, getting her used to his size until he picks up momentum. 

Y/N’s eyes begin to sting, tears welling and his head hits the back of her throat, knocking the air from her lungs. Harry grows faster, eager. His chest is heaving and his lips part as he fucks into her. 

It’s obscene, the noises her throat makes as he shoves himself further down with every snap of his lips. Strings of saliva begin to drip from the corners of Y/N’s mouth as she gags around him, her throat contracting as she splutters on his cock. 

“Taking me so fucking well, baby.”

The praise goes straight to her cunt, wetness seeping through her little panties with every syllable he throws her way. Her eyes are shut tight now, unable to keep them open as Harry uses her for his own pleasure. 

It’s sloppy and messy and needy. Neither of them have experienced anything so fucking sexy in their lives. The sex was good before, but this time – sneaking around and much higher than previously – it’s even more intense. 

It doesn’t take much for Harry to near his end. And when Y/N cradles his heavy balls in her hand, fingernails ghosting over the divots of skin, Harry’s certain he’s about to meet his maker. 

He pulls out of her mouth harshly, not giving her the chance to tell him she needs his cum drowning her throat. His arousal is too quick to paint her chest, coating her nipples in creamy ecstasy as Y/N struggles to catch her breath. 

He comes, a lot, but his stamina doesn’t falter. She’s barely given chance to admire the artwork he marked her with before he’s tugging her up by the crook of her elbow. Y/N’s shoved against the foot of the bed, legs spread and ass in the air, tummy on the mattress. 

Harry’s hands are hungry on her hips, bunching up the bottom of her sundress until it rests on her lower back. He feels over her subtle asscheeks, offering three spanks to her left and whimpering as the fleshy skin wobbles. 

“Harry, please.”

She’s whining now, eager to be filled again. Harry tugs her little thong to the side, her cunt glistening and puffy from neglect. He wants to taste her, spend an eternity between her soaked thighs but the way Y/N wiggles her hips and backs up against him suggests she needs something more right now. 

“I just wanna taste you for a bit,” he says. 

She’s shaking her head, despite how badly she wants to feel him lapping up her pussy. She’s far too soaked and horny to settle for his tongue right now.

“Next time.”

Harry’s heart races a little at that. Next time? So, she plans for there to be. Not that Harry has a problem with it. He’d be more than fucking happy to make this a regualr thing if she wanted it. 

Listening to her request, he lines his head with her entrance, pushing through her folds to coat himself in her slickness. Her legs are trembling in need, face smushed into the blanket and she knows she’s ruining it with her makeup and the come that covers her tits, but she cannot bring herself to care. 

With the joint still between his fingers, Harry brings it back to his lips for another drag. He lines himself back with her puckering hole and gentle sheaths inside. She’s tight – tighter than he remembers – and her walls are so fucking slick it feels like he’s being swallowed whole. 

A shriek escapes Y/N’s mouth at the familiar intrusion, the way he stretches and fills her to the brim. Her mind feels dizzy, vision dotting with white lights as Harry begins to fuck the soul out of her. 

It’s fast and deep, and she’s quick to soak his pubic bone with arousal. Harry leans over her body, guiding the joint to her lips, allowing her a puff. “Hold onto that for me, gorgeous.” 

She takes it from her lips and stretches her arm above her head, wrist against the blanket and joint pointing in the air. His hands are back on her hips as he grips her tight. 

“Good girl, angel.” 

Smack!

His pace is criminal, balls slapping against her throbbing clit with every hit of his hips that he delivers. She’s struggling to stay coherent, unable to string a sentence together as she begs him for more, more, more. 

Harry grips her hips hard, bringing her cunt to him as he fucks into her. Y/N’s body is limp — lets him use her as a toy for his own pleasure and takes whatever he offers. 

She shouldn’t enjoy this so much, getting fucked by her friend, her roommate. But it’s too good to realise they’re stepping on dangerous territory. With the promise of next time. 

“Tight little cunt was fucking made for me.” 

“It’s yours! I’m yours!” 

Her words are a struggle to speak, heart in her throat as her pussy drips for him. It’s too much for Harry. To see her so bare and willing and done for him. To know the affect he has on her, to be buried so fucking deep in her cunt that she can hardly talk. 

His orgasm creeps up on him quickly, cock twitching within the tight confinements of her walls. She feels it, she feels everything. And it only spurs her release on, too. 

Her cunt clenches around him, legs beginning to tremble and a wanton cry crawls out from her lips. “I’m gonna come!” 

Harry keeps his pace steady, coaxes her through it with deep and precise strokes. The tip of his cock continues to pinch at her cervix, the curve in his length rubbing deliciously against her g-spot. 

Y/N shudders around him, desperate to milk him for all he’s got as she explodes. She’s quick to bury her face into the blanket, muffling her screams as her vision spots black and white kaleidoscopes behind her eyes. 

“Give it to me, baby. Come all over me… that’s it.” 

He’s quick to follow, bursts of hot come painting the walls of her cunt and Harry stills inside of her, knees buckling as he tries to keep himself steady. 

It’s quiet for a moment, save for their heavy breathing and wheezing chests. 

It must be true what they say about post-nut clarity. Because as they come down from their highs, there’s a tension in the room that’s far too suffocating. And it only gets worse when Harry slowly pulls out of her cunt and leaves her bent over Niall’s bed, dripping onto the blanket beneath her. 

Harry clears his throat as he tucks himself back into his pants and watches Y/N wobble to her feet as she stands. They don’t look at each other, at least not face-to-face. 

Her tits are still out and his arousal on her chest has transferred to the blanket. She's quick to fix her dress and her underwear — more than a little uncomfortable with the feeling of Harry’s come dribbling out of her. 

She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “We should leave separately, so no one suspects anything.” 

Harry’s not given much time to confer before she shimmies out of Niall’s room and down the hall to the closest bathroom. He’s left there, slightly stunned and a little embarrassed. It’s a bit confusing, it didn’t feel like a mistake after the last time. But now, with how quickly she wanted to leave, Harry worries she regrets it. 

He scratches at the back of his head, wincing at the sight of Niall’s blanket. There’s come stains on the green fabric and the joint that Y/N was supposed to hold had been dropped mid-orgasm and burnt a small hole through the blanket. 

Deciding it would be best to just replace it, Harry bunches the blanket up into a ball and shoves it in the trash can in the corner of the room — making a mental note to buy Niall a new one. 

It’s the least of his concerns, though. 

Because despite Harry’s worry about Y/N’s regret, he still craves her touch and her presence. And she’s just the same — cleaning herself up in the bathroom and splashing water in her face to try to calm down. 

All she can think about is how much she needs him and it doesn’t feel just sexual anymore. For either of them. 

What the hell have they gotten themselves into? 

//

let me know what you thought :)

tags: @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @kissfromadove

[mclqren]

GYMNASTICS LESSONS ★ LN4

PAIRING ✦ lando norris x fem!gymnastics teacher!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you're a gymnastics teacher, and you manage to catch the eye of an f1 driver one friday night, though you both recall the way in which you met in different ways. [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ i altered the request slightly and made it so that lando was picking up his niece from the gymnasium instead. reader lives in bristol in the uk & has a sibling. for the sake of this fic, let's pretend that all the drivers are friends off of the grid!! the fc i've used is pamela hughes, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are closed at the moment.

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liked by yourbsf, friend1, and 431 others

yourusername easter holidays well spent ✔️ back to teaching now!!

view all comments

yourbsf MY GIRL FOREVERRR 😍😍😍

yourusername MY BABY 🫶🫶

yourbsf im so obsessed with you its not healthy at all

yourusername literally me with you ❤️

friend1 UM MISS Y/N WHERE DID YOU GO ON VACATION.

yourusername tenerife 🌞🌞

friend2 ur glowing girllll

yourusername all you omg!!

imessages ( y/n)

imessages ( lando )

liked by yourbsf, landonorris, and 426 others

tagged yourbsf

yourusername me and pepper have been chilling ✌️

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yourbsf PEPPERRR AWW 🥺🥺

yourusername she misses you ❤️

yourbsf MY GIRL 💋💋

yourusername foreverrr 💘

friend1 y/n are you serious why is there a f1 driver in ur likes.

friend2 RIGHTTT

yourusername wait huh

landonorris um hey? 👋👋

yourusername OH MY GOD NOT YOU AGAIN.

landonorris i don't know whether to be offended or not

imessages ( y/n)

imessages ( lando )

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 788 others

tagged yoursibling

yourusername adventures in babysitting (the cinema was fun too) 💐

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user1 good golly she's stunning 😍😍

yourusername thank you sm baby ❤️❤️

yourbestfriend oh my days is that leila 🥺

yourusername yess!! i took her to the gym with me 😭❤️

yoursibling cutiessss❤️❤️

yourusername she's in safe hands trust

danielricciardo i once saw lando norris save five cats from a tree at the same time, he's just that guy 🤷‍♂️

alex_albon lando norris literally saved my entire family from a burning building once 🔥🔥

maxverstappen1 lando lets me go in front of him to win races because he's just that kind 🙏

georgerussell63 lando norris can lift a whole racecar over his head and do squats with it (trust)

yourbsf THESE ARE GETTING INVENTIVE??

oscarpiastri @/landonorris mate are you sure she's not out of your league

landonorris SHUT UP 😖

friend1 so ur like famous now y/n???

yourusername MATE I JUST WOKE UP TO THIS.

user2 i can see why lando likes her - she is GORGEOUSSS

liked by landonorris

imessages ( lando )

imessages ( y/n )

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 13,190 others

yourusername black n white 🖤

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user7 THE PRETTIEST GIRL EVERRR!!

user8 someone tell me what she does as a job pls?

user9 she's a gymnastics teacher!! my sister used to do baby gym lessons with her, she's the sweetest 🫶🫶

user10 okay but can little lando norris actually handle all that? 😍

user11 no but i absolutely can🤞🤞

user12 waiting patiently for lando to come hype her up

user13 her (unwanted) personal hype man 🔥

yourbsf yummyyyy 🤤🤤

yourusername all mine ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

landonorris damnn 😍

yourusername very smooth norris!

landonorris so...it's finally working then??

yourusername idk it's not coming into effect yet tbh

landonorris might have to come pick up mila a third time then

yourusername

( caption one: wined and dined 🍷 | caption two: ❤️. )

imessages ( y/n)

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 28,891 others

tagged landonorris

yourusername it's too late to get a refund, so i guess im stuck with him now. ❤️

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user14 IT'S OFFICIALLY CONFIRMED?? SCREAMINGGG

user15 if he doesnt treat you right im always here bbg 🫶

user16 ONGG

user17 new power couple alert ⚠️⚠️

user18 i cannot waittt to see pics of them together i swear

user19 HOW ARE YOU SO PERFECT

user20 TWO MONTHS AFTER THE FIRST RUMOURS STARTED AND ITS FINALLY ANNOUNCED 🎉🎉🎉

yourbsf still cant believe you replaced me with a m*n 😖😖

yourusername YOU'RE FOREVER NO.1 IN MY HEART I SWEARRR HE MEANS NOTHING TO ME ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

yourbsf how has he done this (taken my wife). what a little rat. he better count his days.

landonorris i can read?

yourbsf oh can you now? 😊

yourusername guys pls be civil 😭

landonorris YUM

yourusername me or the pasta??

landonorris both 🍝🤤

oscarpiastri still don't know exactly how he's done this.

charles_leclerc right?

alex_albon we haven't ruled out witchcraft yet so

landonorris GUYS WHY DO YOU HAVE NO FAITH IN ME STILL ☹️☹️

georgerussell63 it's just a tad bit unbelievable mate

yourusername i get it, im wayyy out of his league tbh. still contemplating on whether i should stoop this low

landonorris yeah yeah, love you too y/n ❤️

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[andersonlore]

Abbys reaction to you telling her how hot she is while making out: "you're so hot I can't stand it it drives me crazy." - maybe the first time or one of the first times

all my love is free | abby anderson

tags: eighteen+, lesbians obsessed with each other, had to post during lesbian visibilty week like c'mon???, just a big bag of fluff packaged with light steam, abby being a nervous goofball, sfw with suggestive themes.

an. sorry i kind of disappeared with posts. new collab is taking over my brain. but wanted to at least post something. can't wait for y'all to get a taste. until then, i'll be finishing the requests in my inbox (hopefully). with all the love, ray.

the end of your first date with abby marks a colossal milestone, especially for the two of you. the moment almost seemed monumental. taking one year of abby’s pining, six months of flirting and six months of tiptoeing while you were with someone else. respectfully, waiting until a month after the breakup, she asks you out.

unimaginable expectations abby had before going into tonight, but all she had to offer it seems was her nerves. god, she was acting like a dumb, mumbling, dork tonight. saying the first thought coming to mind, but it makes you laugh. when abby nearly eats it on the sidewalk, tripping over a crack of grout in the cement. your soft angelic voice taking her out for a moment, the only thing centering her from having a meltdown. 

“baby, are you alright? be careful, honey.” there it is, angelic. “wouldn’t want you to fall.” the first pet names hurled her way by you, making her heartbeat faster than she could keep up with. you cut her off at her knees, ensuring you are the only person she could ever want.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

it’s pretty obvious who was in control the entire night. if the two of you are friends, this night has a year of expectations, hopes, goals to meet and abby felt like she was failing. deeply.

as she walks you up to the front door, she knows the only thing she accomplished was letting you down. nothing went the way she thought it was going to. everything felt off. worst of all, your silence snuffs her out, completely.

you grab her hands, pulling her up the stairs with you. the collar feels too hot, tense, off. delicate fingers playing with the collar before you unclasp the buttons, keeping down before you move to her chest, placing your hand on abby’s inconsistent heartbeat.

“can i? s’tense, need you to loosen up for me. alright?” abby nods, accepting you can read her like the back of your hand. she just doesn’t want you to stop touching her. “get out of this head of yours. s’just me and you, no one else.” your nimble fingers pop the first three buttons, revealing her freckled chest, dipping into her sternum, giving you a delicious preview. she takes a deep breath, and you believe it’s the first one she’s allowed herself since she showed up with a bouquet of flowers in hand. 

“‘m sorry, i didn’t mean to ruin tonight. i just— it’s you. y’know? i’ve never wanted someone like this. been friends for ages and this is just everything. you are everything. i’ll never live with myself if i let you slip through my fingers.” her heartbeat calms under your touch the longer abby speaks, bringing a warmness to your own. “don’t worry about all of it. you’re not going to. i won’t let you.” 

“okay.” abby says as she gets lost in the light in your eyes. the fire visible behind yours. the way she’s looking at you? fuck. unimaginable desire — all for you. it almost seems too good to be true. like you don’t deserve it. waiting for the pin to drop, all the misery drowning you with it. “did you have a good time tonight?” 

“yes baby, i did.” you smirk as she inches forward, closing you into your front door. back pressed against it, her small breasts pressed to your chest, her free hand extended, next to your head as it lays flat on the door.

“s’good. wouldn’t want to kiss you if the date was bad.” all the confidence is back. the abby who flirted with you shamelessly for months on end. knowing you’re happy is enough for her. it’s all she needs to know to let the loser in her fall to ashes. but you taking the reins for a moment, does something so visceral inside her. she nearly doesn’t know how to act until her instincts kick in. 

she’ll satisfy you — just in the way she knows how. 

“what are y—” abby pressed her body weight into you, strong hips pinning you against the door using one of her hands to pin both of yours above your head. you’re whimpering, signaling your shock but the whine omitting from your lips tells abby your pussy is shocked. soaked.

“doing what i should have done months ago.” her pink plump lips meet yours, taking complete control over you. but you welcome it with open arms. she grunts in your mouth causing you to gasp as abby’s tongue enters your mouth. massaging it with yours in a swift battle for dominance. 

it’s too much but also not enough. you’re grinding against her, your crotch kissing hers as you lift a leg, wrapping it around her waist. she continues kissing you like her entire life depends on it. not letting you feel anything but her. she’ll be your everything and you’re not leaving until you understand it just as much as her. “abs—” you mumble in her mouth, abby relinquishes the tight grip on her hands.

immediately your hands are woven in her hair. tugging at the golden hair, as you try to pull her closer to you, if it was even possible. but the two of you have to come up for air, abby the first one to break as she chuckles at both of your heaving chests. 

“fuck, you’re so hot, baby. can’t stand it.” you peck her lips softly. admiring how puffy and swollen they look from her ministrations. god, you want her to devour you once again. “‘m, drives me crazy.” you admit, taking in the intoxicating smirk on her face. you’re not made into a fumbling mess easily. the both of you know it. that’s how abby knows it in her bones, she has you. fuck, she can’t ever imagine letting go. 

[emiko-matsui]

Okay, I just need to get something out of the way when it comes to the Kipperlilly conversation nobody's brought up yet, which I think is insane. Almost all of The Bad Kids would be more powerful if they didn't have their tragedy porn tragic backstories.

First of all, this doesn't apply to Fig and Gorgug because if Fig wasn't Gorthalax's child she would be a lot like Kipperlilly and not the ruler of hell. I wouldn't say Gorgug has a tragic backstory, he's got a pretty normal growing up experience with ups and downs.

Let's start with her #1 nemesis, Riz Gukgak. She's so jealous that his dad was murdered and that gives him an advantage in the adventuring life. To be crude, no, it doesn't. What would give Riz an advantage in the adventuring life would be living with someone who has a direct contact to all the government's inner workings and conspiracies. Now that would be an advantage. That gives you connections and clues that no one else can get. This is not what happened. What happened was eating cereal with water for breakfast, what happened was not getting an opportunity at college, what happened was a 9 year old who stopped sleeping, what happened was not your secret agent dad giving you an advantage in the school conspiracy because he's dead. Otherwise he fucking would've.

And now Kipperlilly's new #1 nemesis, Kristen Applebees. She was ostracised from her religion for her sexuality, she achieved sainthood, and raised a dead god back to life. None of this would've happened if she hadn't been raised in The Harvestmen. No, it wouldn't, but what would have happened if Kristen had been straight? Disgusting thought, yes, I know, but let's talk about it. A Kristen who never left Helio behind would have so many more fucking advantages than the one with Cassandra has. If she had followed her birthright she would be the only chosen one of one of the world's most powerful gods. Sol is the biggest god in Spyre and Helio is his son. Helio does not have a chosen one anymore because Kristen left. It's not a title that's just given out, it could only have been Kristen. You know what's an advantage? Being the chosen one of one of the world's most powerful gods, being a god's spoken favourite, and deified by all of that god's followers. Now that would be an unfair advantage. You know what's not an advantage? Being homeless at 14 and being at the mercy of your ex-girlfriend's uncle for housing, dying and having absolutely no one there for you so you're only option to survive is to trust your own abilities enough to raise yourself from the dead, and failing school because of biased teachers.

And what of Adaine Abernant? The Elven Oracle? Her tragedy porn tragic backstory is surviving an abusive home. Now I just have to imagine that Adaine would have it a lot easier than most students, an incredible amount of unfair advantages, if her old money parents paid for every wizard whim she wanted, kept her diplomatic immunity so she could do literally anything she wanted without consequences, and gave her a direct contact into the heart of the Fallinell government. Now that is what I would call an insane amount of unfair advantage. I would be furious at this rich kid who's never had to work for anything myself. This is not even close to the case. She's barely passing classes because she can't afford the material you're required, she goes to the guidance counsellor for panic attacks, and she's being hunted by her home government. I'd say that's about every single thing in her life working against her having it easy.

Fabian Aramais Seacaster. He's complicated since he is very privileged already. He gets 5000 gold a month just for existing. He's the captain of the Owlbears because he killed the previous one. He lives alone in a mansion. Yeah, that's pretty privileged. His parents are also so severely fucked up that if they hadn't been filthy rich they would've been absolutely horrible for him. If he had parents who unconditionally supported him and stayed with him through everything, then we could talk about perhaps the most powerful person in Elmville. In Solace possibly. The most feared pirate in history who single-handedly dismantled a monarchy and fights against armies on his own is at your beck and call, does whatever you ask him to, and loves you more than anything. The greatest swordswoman in the world, that bested the most feared pirate in the world, the daughter of one of the most influential elven families and immortal will do anything you ask her, loves you to bits, and would cheat any rules for you. To have that would just be insane. You can argue that Fabian already has unfair advantages because of his social status and inheritance. This is true, but this is also true within his own adventuring party. Now his parents aren't helping him with anything and are determined that he reach his legendary status on his own. Otherwise talk about a fucking advantage.

All this to say is that if Kipperlilly got all of The Bad Kids tragedy porn like she wanted she wouldn't have been better, but she would've made them better. There is an adventuring party out there in the multiverse that has a secret agent at their disposal, the only chosen one of a Sol religion, Bill Seacaster and Hallariel Lomenelda unprompted in their corner, and a seer with unending resources and diplomatic immunity. These would've been people you start a platform about adventuring not being fair for everyone because of. The people you went against was a homeless kid, a kid with an anxiety disorder, a trust fund kid, and someone with PTSD.

I've seen your posts about Kipperlilly being wrong for her validation, but right in the fact that The Bad Kids have been given larger plots and mysteries because of their families and circumstances and I don’t want to fucking see another one. When you make that I want you to think about the adventuring party they would've been without their backstories. The insanely powerful and privileged adventuring party that almost happened. Their life got made worse, not easier because their life could have been so fucking easy. Kipperlilly can take all the tragedy porn she wants and then maybe realise that that's not what makes the adventurer. That the reason she's mad at The Bad Kids is the only reason she can even tangentially compete with them.

[dear-ao3]

Question for the mods....

HOW IN THE FUCK DID YOU MEET???

Like what???

How??

I am so god damn curious about you two. I wanna study yall under a microscope lol

Also ngl kinda envious of how close of friends you two seem to be. (Being an introverted shy af mofo sucks lmao)

I would actually probably read a whole ass book or watch a sitcom or something of the seemingly ever present weird-ass shit that seems to happen on a day-by-day basis.

/gen /lh /nf /pos

2018 newsies fandom. we weren't overly close but we bonded over race and albert a little and then katya dropped off the face of the earth for about a year.

during 2020 lockdown we both independently got into the witcher fandom and somehow ran into eachother again and had the fingers pointing OH MY GOD Y O U !!! moment in our dms. we bonded over hating jaskier. during this time we realized we were both dancers and katya was looking at dance colleges, i was already in college for dance and since it was lockdown and we couldn't go anywhere i told katya my experience auditioning at places to give him a good idea of places. and then i broke every internet safety rule known to man and said hey what if you had applied to my college but didnt know it?? and then one thing led to another and i dished out all the tea on my school. (only After that did we face reveal and give eachother our names lol) and then katya applied. mostly as a joke. until it wasnt a joke because that school gave katya a shit load of money and actually had stuff katya wanted to do. katya ended up coming to one of my zoom ballet classes and it took everything we had to not loose our shit on camera.

during this time we mostly kept eachother sane in lockdown writing witcher fanfic, and sending eachother awful thirst traps on instagram to pitbull music. one of our awful bits was using the dilf filter to make bad frat boy edits.

come august of 2021 we both moved into college. the same college. in the same building. it was wild. i pinched myself several times in shock. we went on a walk around campus with some worms on strings and were like what the hell how did we get here.

we continued to hang out and did weird insane things together. we took a class on the french revolution together where i had to put up with katya and fennec awkwardly flirting (read: making finger guns at eachother).

and then, since i was 2 years older, i was graduating and was going to stay in the area for a job and was like hey. what if we got an apartment together? and then we did. several adults agreed to this. idk why they let us. but now we live together in a real life apartment and we haven't even killed eachother yet. neither of our parents know that we met online. each of them have a different fake story as to how we know eachother and we really just hope they are never in the same room long enough to ask eachother about it. but its insane. 12/10 would recommend.

katya wanted me to include old tumblr screenshots of us talking, heres what i found from circa 2020:

we've always been like this lol

and heres some ancient greatest hits from instagram, i dont have context and trust me you dont want it:

every now and then the two of us look at eachother and go. how the fuck did we end up here??? (we have no idea)

[alumints]

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[pupcuck]

black water - one !

ft. og4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. cop!leon, corruption, mentions of harassment/rape/drugs, body horror, raccoon city incident never happened but there r bioweapons, suicide ideation bc leon, character death, there’s smut in later chapters i promise, public sex, creampie, hate sex, slapping, choking, gore descriptions

note. hi trying something new! i know raccoon city is in the midwest somewhere but to be frank idgaf ab the usa and know nothing about any part of it so i decided that it’s a southern state in this fic bc i wanted to make reader have the cute accent bc she’s a farmer :3 only the first chapter so like um this is honestly just more of a test to see if anyone would like this erm smut comes soon prommy.. reader implied poc but like um :3 PLEASE GIMME FEEDBACK N IGNORE MISTAKES!!

summary. there is something in the water, you want it gone before it eats more than just your livelihood.

You know pigs, so you know men.

This one has blue eyes, it is the type of blue you’d dip your toes into, you let the waves lap at your calves until it drags you under. His gaze taps a gun to the back of your head and demands full attention.

He is subjecting you to himself, and you hate it.

The glint of his blue-gold badge is nebulous in the dark. “Officer Leon S. Kennedy.” He offers you a look at his ID card - has the sort of face that lets him get away with things. “Criminal Investigations Department.”

Beside him, a dog with intelligent eyes stands sentinel. Officer Kennedy drops the leash and the dog sits back on its haunches. “Now, what’s this about pigs?”

The RPD is one great big circle jerk. Brian Iron’s doctrine is an easy one to follow, and Leon is not opposed to easy. His innards spill into the middle of it all as the lump in his throat dislodges, adding to the slurry of toxic waste that coats their blackened underbelly.

There is a horrible liminal quality to the place, footfall echoes in halls lit by jaundiced bulbs. The scent of sex is a wisp of smoke in his nose as he passes the chief’s office.

Raccoon City is a backwater bog, and to match the inhabitants are insular primitive beings who cling to antiquated ways. To be stationed here by choice was a lapse in judgement - snark is the currency of social interaction.

Leon is often taken by women.

He met this one back in Brooklyn, where he and his family lived above a Deli, an older southern lady with a gap in her teeth. Had the pleasure of crossing her path—Something about her just stuck. Led him to believe that all women round these parts had big hearts and even bigger bosoms. A place to rest his head for the night, a neck to hide his face in, blonde curls just shy of silver to tickle his skin flower-pink.

She talked all like:

Well, ain’t you just the sweetest peach I’ve ever seen! Oh, I could just eat a feller like you up, get me full as a tick.

Whatever it was that she said and meant, he liked it. And so guided by the expertise of his dick, Leon landed himself here.

There are a handful of beautiful women that Leon has seen, met, fucked.

(He weeded out the ugly ones the moment he was given access to the file room.)

The thing is, small town beautiful is different to New York pretty.

He has an ex over in Manhattan who could turn the sidewalk into a catwalk. She had Leon, a man built like a god, fumbling like a teenage girl. The last girl he fucked here was homely - she had the hushed urgency of a military wife and her monotony was sobering.

One girl he dated on and off for a year or two. She worked at a car wash and she was needy. Real needy. She missed the taste of his dick so he provided her with the scent of pussy instead. Every weekend he’d drive over and watch her clean the sex from the backseat of his cruiser just because he could.

Things are slow in this marshy cesspit, a never-ending conveyer belt of nothing much. The wind carries the scent of magnolia blossoms and sewage. It gives Leon a lot of time to think of the filth that is his underfurnished life. He lowers his head to the desk, allowing himself to fall in and out of spasms of lucidity.

Leon has done bad things, but he doesn’t qualify as a bad guy. The badge and the blue forbids it. Take Redfield for example, that guy got deployed in Penamstan. Y’know what happened there? He shot a kid or two and now he can’t get it up. He’s not a bad guy, not at all, he’s got a photo of his smiling face plastered in the lobby.

He’s a hero.

The only problem folks have with him is that heroes have nice, hard cocks and they fuck for hours. No matter his sex drive atrophied by gore splattered on the barrel of his gun, or how the studded underside of his boot caused flesh to crumple like the newspaper with his name on it—It doesn’t matter. To be built like a brick shithouse and have something soft between your legs, well, that just ain’t right, is it?

Over in Penamstan, he would say, you introduce yourself over the sound of gunfire, shake hands as the earth is split in half, kill an orphan to bond.

A good man for sure. So good his little sister went ghost.

(Leon finds her postcards in the mailroom. For Redfield’s sake, he hides them in the bottom drawer of his desk alongside all sorts of ephemera. He’s acquired quite the stash.)

Valentine is alright. She’s quiet. The moral fibre has been plucked out of her with a pair of forceps, and now she doesn’t think much about where she points her gun. They often sit in shared silence, and sometimes it is like looking in a funhouse mirror that creates a shape far slinkier than his bulk.

Chambers is too nice. Vickers is fat. Burton is old. Frost is ugly. These are all irrefutable flaws, but none of them are bad, and none of it is intentional. Not bad by Leon’s standards at least.

(The entirety of the STARS unit would be better off if they stopped kissing Captain Wesker’s flat ass, but that is like asking for sympathy from the devil.)

Man, he has too much time on his hands.

“Kennedy, you busy?” Rita knocks on his desk. The fabric of her shirt creases inwards to grasp the dip of her waist as she places a hand on her hip. She’s poised, but something about her gait is wobbly.

“Mighty busy.” He nods.

What they have is not history, but something much smaller. It is a word blotted out on a torn page from a burnt book, it is ground into powder by mortar and pestle.

It is Leon’s hand in her back pocket when nobody’s around.

“I’m sure.” She straightens her spine, eyes heavy with the weight of her lashes. “Up in Black Water, something about a dead pig.”

“They have gators,” Leon points out. He may be bored to the point of suicide, but he is not in the mood to wrangle any gators.

“I know,” she says, lifting her eyes from the ground to meet his sidelong gaze, “go check it out, she sounded real spooked, take a dog if you have to.”

She, huh.

Wonder what she looks like. He hopes she has big tits. He hopes she isn’t a cousin-fucking, peat-smelling hick.

Black Water has a lot of those.

“Took ya long enough.” Your voice skims the air like a bullet, it strikes Leon in the chest.

You are she. And you, well—You’re both the needle and the spoon.

Doused in the lantern glow, the egg-whites of your eyes are streaked by small, bloody streams, your mac is zipped up to the chin, and your rainboots are the same colour of boxed rubber duckies.

You’re no sole-crushed peach, making the ground its canvas in a pitiful splatter, you’re a tart cherry that he would like to pick, melt into a glaze and store in a jar.

“Oh, we’re mighty busy.” Leon wipes Rita’s wet from his fingers on the front of his tailored pants, it’s gotten sticky like pomade. He thinks of her tailbone digging into the flesh of his stomach as he sits her on his lap.

“I bet.” You raise your brows. “How many lines did’ja do?”

Leon leans forward to watch your face with unblinking eyes. “Don’t say that too loud, Wesker’s gonna get worried, y’know, start digging through his stash.”

“Hah.” Your laugh is hidden into the collar of your mac. “He seems like the type.”

“You met him before?” An unpleasant squelch is heard when he steps where you do, it seems deliberate for a moment, that you’re avoiding a well-trodden path to give him a hard time. He stumbles forward in the dark—His shoes are fucked, and these socks deserve a funeral service.

“Think we all have.” Your body is lost in the shapelessness of your attire, clothes draped over your frame like you are more hanger than human. Effortless femininity lost to androgyny. “You’re not from these parts.”

“You don’t look like you’re from these parts, pumpkin pie,” he mocks your twang and is met with a tut.

You stop and Leon bumps into you with a grunt.

He shines his torch at the ground and isn’t quite sure of what he’s looking at. “That’s a pig alright.”

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter II

“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave.” Songs of Solomon 8:6-7.

As newly appointed Duchess-To-Be, you have much to learn. Etiquette, conduct and eventual motherhood are the pillars you are expected to live by. Because who cares about your choosing?

The Chapel, tended to by a mercurial Priest, is the perfect refuge.

…right?

Pairing: Geto x female reader

A/N: The is dedicated to the artist ( @captainsalsaa ) I mean look at our fallen Angel. His tears. His frustration. Dear GOD.

To the artist: I stared at your piece, then heard a specific song on my writing playlist then wrote the entire last scene in one sitting. To date, it’s my favorite scene in my author’s portfolio. I hope I did our fallen Angel justice. Thank you for creating this 🤍

Previous | Next

CHAPTER II: Hello, Father.

“Awake early, little dove.” 

Warm hands caress your shoulders. A welcome contrast to the chilly nautical dawn. The sun still has a ways to go, but songbirds have begun their wake up call. 

“As are you, Arella.” 

Your eyes float to your favorite maiden standing above you. No more than a handful of years older, but with a heart for you as if she raised you from birth. 

“It’s my duty to tend to you, is it not?” 

Soft laughter harmonizes with the nightingales. A quick kiss on your forehead before her warmth disappears off the balcony —  undoubtedly to go retrieve a treat of some kind. 

She’s not wrong. 

Technically it is her duty. 

But Arella is your blessing. 

Matting and kneading your surroundings to fit your needs. Eager to dampen the growing pains of settling in a new home. 

Constant hellos. 

Permanent smiles.

Not too wide, like a promiscuous woman. But not too tight, like a cold prude. 

Rooms to tour. Hands to shake. Garments to pin and tie and lace around your lungs as if your God-given ribcage was a frivolous extra not needed for life. Not needed to breathe. 

Breathe.

Your lids screw shut. Pulling in as much of the balmy, saltwater breeze gliding up the steep rock face along the overhang. 

Much like he did. 

The Chaplain. 

His hair cascading down his back in the same way poets monologue when inspired. His eyes a mural of what the Gods paint when they want to show off. 

The way earth acquiesces to his touch as if he is the Creator. The birds choose to perform for him every morning. And the ocean exists to bathe him. 

You cannot decide if the sorbet sunsets are created by the Chaplain. Or if the Gods fight over who gets the honor of painting him a new one each evening. 

“Sleep still escapes you, precious girl.” 

It does, but not for the reason she thinks. 

“You worry too much, Arella. I’ll adjust soon.” The tea she brought you is delicious.

The both of you cross back into your quarters. The stagnant, perfumed air suddenly suffocating.

“I would like to go to the chapel garden.” 

A quiet declaration that stills your handmaiden in her tracks. Then a small grin blossoms on her beautiful face. Fussing with your bedding. Wiping away evidence of your sleepless night. 

“For the flowers that bloom, little dove? Or for the God that tends to them?”

The blood in your veins runs subzero. 

“Arella! I am engaged to be marri—“

“Of course you are. But eyesight isn’t a sin.”

Another moment of feigned irritation before you burst into a fit of childish giggles. The both of you no better than school girls, covering your mouths, stifling your laughter. 

“I just wanted to see you smile.” Arella gestures to your extravagant dresser across the room. 

“In the second drawer you can find a casual garment. Come back with at least one hour to prepare for Mass.”

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

A hummingbird chaperones your walk to the church estate. Dulcet hums drown out the rattling heartbeat between your ears. 

This is harmless.

It is not a sin to take in Earth’s natural candy. To appreciate God’s gift to humanity.

In all of his majestic glory. 

Your eyes dart around as if your thoughts are a tangible scroll. Written in ink for the world to see.

Don’t be ridiculous, there’s no one around. 

Just you. Your fluttering companions (both heart and bird). The waking sun. God above and his plants swaying in the gentle gusts of wind. You’re safe in your mind. 

Until he decimates all logical and reasonable train of thought, that is. 

You should be angry. Infuriated. That no one adequately prepared you for seeing the demigod for the first time. Even now, you question whether he’s flesh and blood. 

Maybe an illusion? 

The Lord playing tricks from his throne? 

The mirage before you halts your paces. You can’t help but question your level consciousness. 

Because this must be a dream. 

“Oh, don’t be cruel.” 

Words slip out of your mouth, currently ajar. It’s not your place to chastise the One above, but come on. 

Your eyes taste the Chaplain for a second time and this course is even more decadent than the first. 

There he stands. 

A raven waterfall down his broad, muscular back. Half of it tied away from his face. Olive skin so rich the surrounding plants pale in comparison. Russet brown working pants hang loose around his tapered waist, but snug around his thighs. Various tools hooked in the belt loops. Heavy mahogany work boots match the worn leather gardening gloves fitted to his hands. 

His hands. 

Reaching for thorny vines plaguing his hydrangeas. Even at your distance you could detail each muscle fiber in his arm tense and release with every pull and toss.

Pull and toss.

Pull and toss. 

You would have gotten lost in his rhythmic trance, if it weren’t for the symbol branded in charcoal sprawling his back. The emblem peeks through his thick hair, every now and again. 

A spear? 

No.

A trident. With waves snaking up its stalk along his spine. 

His gravitational pull is overwhelming. Your feet move with more stealth than the King’s Guard.

“Working on the Day of Rest, Father?” Casual, measured. 

“Duchess,” Saliva pools in your mouth. His smile teases your ears before he graces you with it. 

“I have to start being more careful about my clothing.” A playful glint in his eyes. 

“Especially now that I’ve been blessed with a fellow greenskeeper.” 

He is a man of God.

And would never insinuate anything impure. 

But that doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around his words steeped in a baritone potent enough to rumble the ground beneath you.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve sent word that I was coming.” 

“This palace belongs to you, Duchess. You are welcome here at any hour.” His hand captures a vine and tosses it into the pile without his eyes ever leaving yours. 

You are weak.

And greedy. 

The way your gaze drops to his arm. Desperately etching its contours into memory. Seconds, maybe minutes pass before you realize you were gawking. And the Chaplain just let you. 

Head cocked to the side. Soft smile ghosting his full lips. 

“Would you like to finish the tour of your new playground?” 

“Y-yes. Of course, please.” Stumbling over the uneven cobblestone in your voice, you turn away to begin the coordinated stroll. The Priest slides his arms into a linen button up. Lazily fastening two center buttons only. 

He informs you of the work that has already been done, what’s left. Where the soil is richest, where it is the most acidic. How the sun hits certain flowers at each hour of the day.

Brilliant. 

With complete command over God’s bouquet. The sun following him wherever he steps.

“Did you enjoy your swim today, Father?” Both you and the Priest come to a slow stop. One of his angular eyebrows raised.

“I’m dry, Duchess.” He responds with a low, hypnotic chuckle. 

Heat floods your cheeks. How could you be so presumptuous?

“What gave me away?” 

Your knees nearly betray you. The razor sharp grin on his face could cut glass. 

“You were born for the ocean. Or rather, the ocean was born for you.”

Your statement is greeted with blaring silence. 

Lava in his gaze. Singeing every part of your face it touches. His expression is like a foreign language. 

“I—I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. Clearly I have much to learn about social graces.” A meek apology bubbles out of your lips. Desperate to fill the space between your bodies. 

The mercurial man shakes his head slightly. Thawed out from your statement, he reaches over and plucks a stray lilac petal resting on your crown.

“My father used to say the same.” He muses, looking away for the first time. 

“Your father! Is he—“

“He was called home some time ago.” This smile is soft. Reminiscent. Polite, but his mind clearly elsewhere. 

“Oh Father Geto, I’m so sorry.” 

A foot in your mouth is not enough punishment for your indecency. Why would you go prodding like this?

“Don’t be, I’ll see him again. Soon enough.”

“Not too soon, I hope.” The statement draws a stunned gaze from the Chaplain. Eyes dancing between yours. 

“Time to prepare for mass, little dove!” Arella’s melodic call tethers you back down from outer space. 

You flicker over to her with a ruby dusting over your nose and cheeks. Like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar before supper. 

“Happy Sunday, Father!” Arella calls out, cheshire grin on her face deepening your crude blush. 

“Indeed, Arella.” He returns the greeting while keeping his eyes on you. 

“Send my regards to the Duke.” His voice lowers, for your ears only. With a nearly imperceptible edge to his tone. 

“Happy Sunday, Duchess. We have a counseling session scheduled late afternoon, yes?” 

A statement of pure black and white fact. And yet it travels down your spine and settles between your legs. Wet heat dampening your thin negligee.

“Yes, Father. Happy Sunday.”

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Mass was miserable. 

Your corset laced tight enough to meld your two lungs and beating heart into one entity. To say the neckline strangled you is putting it mildly. Cold, uninviting pews dug into your skin at every turn. 

Wretched. 

But the worst of it wasn’t the thin, oxygen-deficient air. Or the shards of glass that slid down your throat with every swallow. Even the jaw pain from tensing your lips in a well-mannered smile for two hours straight was tolerable. 

The worst part of it was him. 

The Priest mesmerized an entire congregation to an ear-splitting hush. 

His first Sunday mass since appointment and nearly everyone in the country and every surrounding province stuffed into the chapel. 

So desperate for blessings from Father Geto. 

Could you blame them?

His voice danced in and out of the pews listlessly. 

Soothing fussy children. Adolescent girls and their mother’s alike — utterly smitten. Adolescent boys experienced their first “I want to be like him” with their fathers sitting right next to them. Husbands glanced feverishly at the women in their lives. 

He had to have noticed it. And yet, he floated above it all the entire service.

Above you. 

Refusing to gift you those eyes that put Vincent Van Gogh to shame. No matter how much you shifted in your seat and straightened your spine.

The Priest spoke to everyone in the room but you. 

Did you read him wrong? 

Did you misinterpret your budding friendship? 

Does it…should it even matter?

Your irritation is palpable. Innocent bystanders are caught in your friendly fire. Including Arella, who changed you out of that horrid costume. And sweet Noel, who ushered you into the seating area — just outside of the good Father’s office.

You make a mental note to send treats to the tender-hearted alter boy. And to apologize profusely to your handmaiden. 

“You are a million miles away, darling.” The sound of your betrothed tows you out of the storm clouds. 

You flicker over to the Duke. Emerald green eyes, high cheek bones — handsome in a way that is characteristic of everyone native to your new home.

“I’m right here, Ezra.” 

“Are you, sweetheart?” The back of his hand caresses your cheek. 

“Mmhm.” You offer your future husband a weak smile and kiss on his cheek. His eyes  faltering slightly, undoubtedly hopeful for lips instead. 

“Good afternoon, Duke and Duchess Ahriman.” 

Father Geto’s velvet greeting encases you both. If Ezra’s arm didn’t guide you to stand you would have been paralyzed in your seat. 

“Father Geto, a pleasure. Thank you for seeing us.” Ezra offers a genuine smile and handshake. Buying you a few extra seconds in your mind’s safe haven.

The Chaplain is tight lipped. Professional. He returns the handshake firmly. 

“Pleasure is mine.” 

Ezra shifts slightly on his feet. Straightening his spine and dropping his shoulders. Your eyes bounce between the Chaplain and your fiancé.

“I must say, Father. You are even more handsome up close. I speak for the men in this country, thank you for taking the vow of celibacy!” The words spill out of the Duke. Unknowingly thinning the air. 

The Priest chuckles quietly, dropping his eyes briefly before landing them on you. And it feels like you could double over.  Your core temperature skyrockets under his smoldering gaze. 

He, the archer. You, the bullseye. 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” 

Ezra laces his fingers in yours, taking the two seats directly in front of the oak desk. A leather bound notebook and pheasant feather pen are neatly arranged — with your names on the first page.

Blue flame rises from your toes to hairline. You might as well have been sitting naked. With how exposed, how vulnerable you feel already.

“What will we be covering first, Father? Something about how wives should obey their husbands, right?” Ezra is light-hearted. Meant to be said in jest.

But he finds himself being the only party in the room laughing. 

The Priest rolls the ink pen between his fingers. Allowing a deafening silence to coat the walls. His expression is neutral, but eyes ablaze. 

“If the man in question is worthy of submission.” He starts. A low, ominous rumble. 

“Uh, yes. Of course.” Ezra responds, shifting in his seat. 

But the Chaplain does not stop. Intent on making a point, he leans in. Pen whirling lightning fast between his long, deft fingers. Enough tailwind to launch across the room, if he desired.  

“If the man in question would give his life for his wife.” Volcanic eyes linger on you, then back to your fiancé. Ezra’s palm finds your thigh. You gnaw on your inner cheek to avoid flinching away. 

“If he would love her like Christ loves all of his creations unconditionally. Unselfishly. Irrationally.” 

“Yes, Father. I understand.” 

“Only then, should she submit.” His serrated tone could split chromium with ease. 

“Of course, of course.” Ezra wisely accepts defeat. 

He presses a short kiss on your cheek as an apology that you didn’t ask for, nor do you want. 

“Mmm.” A forced acknowledgment of the Duke’s affection through your pinched lips. Barely able to move under the Father’s microscopic gaze. 

“Now then,” Father Geto clears the boulders in his throat. 

“Tell me about your love.” 

The question stuns both you and the Duke. Looking to each other sheepishly because neither of you chose this.

War is young men dying and old men talking. And your life path is no different. Dictated by conversations between the powers that be. 

“We’ve only met a week ago, Father.” Your honesty drives both of his eyebrows upward. 

“A week ago?”

“But we are hoping you can teach us.” The Duke, overeager and excitable. 

“Teach you…?” Father Geto muses. You can’t quite interpret his tone, or minimal response. But your heart flutters all the same. 

He is thinking something. And what you would give to get a glance. To be let in. 

“Perhaps guide us?” Ezra gives an unintentionally painful squeeze on your thigh. You fail to muffle the tiny whimper. 

The Priest’s eyes laser down to where your fiancé’s hand lays. Chest rising and falling dangerously slow. 

“Right.”

Your eyes trail upwards as he stands. Closer to God than to you from this point of view.

“Duke, Duchess. You’ll have to accept my sincerest apologies.” 

His fingers dip the unused pen back into the ink cup. The edges of his leather bound notebook coming together. Seemingly without any notes, but an entire script from this session swirling in his mind. 

“My schedule is incorrect. I have another commitment. We will reschedule, yes?” Said with a finality that sends chills crawling down your spine. 

The two of you stand. Another handshake between the men. A restrained nod for you.

Just as quickly as you were let in, Father Geto shuts you out of his office and his mind. 

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Suguru presses his forehead against the shower tile. Warm water raining down his loose mane. Soothing his sore, overworked limbs. 

Today was maddening. 

He nearly destroyed his vestment the minute that God-forsaken counseling session ended. Seeking refuge, he took to the coast. 

And the sea provided anything but peace. 

She was angry with him, tonight. 

Curt. With unpredictable currents. Rip tides at nearly every turn. She tested his adaptation without mercy.

Just like that night.

“I’m going to stay on board, brother!”

Suguru flickered over to the silver-haired deckhand. An unfamiliar reservation opacifying his nearly translucent, iridescent eyes. 

Brother in name, technically. 

Their bloodlines were oil and water. He was a high born. Suguru was born unworthy of a beggar’s pity. 

But, bloodlines were inconsequential when their souls were instep as one. Both handed to humanity on the same night. During a thunderstorm already inscribed in history books.

‘The Tide of Eternal Requiem.’ 

It brought complete devastation. Crops destroyed. Families torn apart by tragic accidents inland and at sea. 

Then fate struck. 

Within the same hour, a voltaic boy, with a halo that put the clouds to shame and diamond eyes that could draw truth from murderers was born into the loving embrace of his parents. 

And Suguru was born with a crown so dark that the raging midnight appeared bright. 

With eyes as ominous as the sky above. 

Gunmetal grey, accented by an eerie violet swarm. Dormant volcanoes, threatening eruption. His birth mother abandoned him in an alley. Driven by fear that he was a bad omen from the Gods. 

“Ahhh, Satoru come on. Since when do you shy away from a few waves?”

Suguru teased. Already well into the process of shedding his work gear. 

“Zeus is the one rumored to be my father.” His counterpart flashed a knowing smile. 

“Poseidon doesn’t watch over me like he does you, Suguru.”

A tsunami couldn’t keep Suguru from his home. Much less a little rain. 

They were 3 miles away from the shoreline. Using his God-given ability, Suguru regularly acted as their scout. Performing his own reconnaissance then alerting the incoming ship of safe or turbulent terrain. 

“Almost ready to go, son?” 

His chosen father came up behind him. Suguru knew there were tears lining his meek eyes before turning to face him. 

“Dad.” Suguru sighed, fully disrobed now. Just his muscular frame and a compression suit. 

He met his father’s concerned gaze. Always like this during sea storms. Quiet prayers written all over his gentle features. 

Despite the worry, he never once attempted to convince his oceanic boy to stay on board. It would have been too cruel.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve traversed angrier swells.”

“Suguru, take care of yourself when I’m gone.” 

Elder, worn hands landed on his shoulders. Nearly too high for his reach. Suguru cocked his head to the side. 

This goodbye was different. 

“Stay on this path. For me. Albeit straight and narrow, there is a wonderful view. This is all for you, son.” 

Both men glanced to the Persian gulf. She thrashed against their vessel. Swaying their catch left and right with the intention of taking her creatures back. 

“Where is this coming from?” A genuine question from his younger self. Unable to read between the lines. 

“Can’t a man just speak from the heart?”

The melancholy smile didn’t meet the wrinkles of time decorating his eyes, but they shared a laugh anyway.  Suguru turned away but was promptly drawn back. 

“My beautiful boy.” 

The fisherman cradled his son’s face. Swimming in the eyes that Suguru once hated. The eyes that convinced his birth mother to abandon him. 

“Make it to shore, son.” Suguru rested his head against his father’s neck. Taking a slow, sweet drag of his scent.

Oak. 

He always smelled like oak. It was one of Suguru’s favorite things about him.

“If Poseidon calls—“

“I’ll tell him to fuck off.” Mischievous grin plastered on Suguru’s face. His father planted a kiss on his cheek, pushing him towards the end of the boat. As he always did.

Then the Gulf wrapped him in her hostile embrace. 

She was irate. 

Vicious tidal waves. Rapidly shifting currents. Even her creatures knew to settle below their usual depth. Suguru cursed the fact that he was born with useless, human lungs. Unable to withstand the pressure of the Midnight Zone. 

Within minutes his long, lean frame was riding her whims without a shred of control. Tossed around like a rag doll. At her complete mercy — or lack thereof. 

This was the first time he struggled to tame his element. A muffled groan bubbled around him. Serrated edges of long coral stalks dug into his back. Stark white foam whirled around him. 

Aerated waters. 

Suguru could barely maneuver against the waves pummeling his core. Searing heat traveling up his spine. His lungs demanded oxygen. 

The boat. 

The boat would never make it to shore. 

Desperate, furious strokes of his arms meant nothing against her unrelenting grasp. Effectively pinning Suguru to his underwater cross. 

A piece of chewed plank wood whizzed by his face. 

Followed by another. 

Then another. 

And Suguru watched his nightmare materialize before his eyes. Mustering his last oxygen reserve, he bellowed against his closed lips.

As if she hadn’t already ignored the cries of his fellow fisherman. 

Even still, he screamed so loud his ribcage should have vaporized. But ushering him to a watery grave at that time would have been too merciful. 

Suguru blinks out of the harrowing memory. The steeping tea takes at least two layers of epithelium off his esophagus.

Fucking, hell. 

He can’t seem to escape pain today.

The swim was excruciating.

Mass was dreadful.

Watching that boy’s hand lay on your lap was grating. 

Suguru’s mind drifts back to you. Your thought washes over him like baptizing waters purifying that which is impure.

The gleam in your eyes when you asked about his morning plunge. Barely a week and your pulse on him is already this precise.

Do not covet, Suguru. 

He scoffs to himself. Shaking free of your tempting spiral. 

This ‘straight and narrow’ path is proving to be more challenging than he let on. 

“Would you be proud, Father?” 

A whisper of accusation at the end of his inquiry. Suguru would give his arms, his eyes…his life to hear his father’s voice on the other end of his questions, once again. 

“Did He tell you?” 

Roaring silence. Of course. He knows that. He expects it. 

But it angers him all the same. 

“Did He come to you in a dream??” Suguru echos louder. More frantic. Punched out in a way he can barely recognize. 

“Was the reaper at His left, my heart on the right?!” A weak sob slips through the crack in his baritone. 

Yet another pain. But this one is tart and blurring his vision. 

“Did you KNOW? D—did you know that day was your last?!” He hisses through a salty stream.  Storming out to the garden to escape the walls collapsing in on him. 

Suguru’s eyes laser to the remaining thorny vines along his bed of hydrangeas. Without a second thought he wraps them around his bare arms. Staining the plant and his freshly bathed skin with crystalline tears. Once its thorns sufficiently bury into his skin he rips it away from the soil with all his might. 

“Bastard. I’m your SON.”

Warm metallic drips down the hills and ridges of his arms. Collecting in the flower bed. 

Is he cursing his earthly father? 

His Heavenly One? 

Or the Deity that brought this grief on him in the first place?

It hurts. 

An unforgiving pain. 

Much like the thorns in those rapids. Much like the inconceivable burn from his lungs begging for expanse. The time limit, even for him, ran lethally low. 

Well exceeding his father’s time limit. 

Poseidon stole from him that day.  

A callous trade for Suguru’s continued existence. 

“Why didn’t you…I—I should’ve been there.” 

Guilt eviscerates Suguru’s remaining resolve. Tilting his head up, he lets the salty crystals rain down his cheeks freely. 

The full moon cradles his face with the same warmth, the same adoration his father’s hands used to. 

Suguru accepts its celestial kisses for a moment before burying his face into his bloodied palms. His damp locks curtain his flushed face. Protecting the world from his unruly sobs.

“I’m here.” Barely audible words escape through desperate grabs for air. 

“I made it to shore, Dad.”

E/N: Oh hello, don’t mind me just sobbing. Also, guest appearance by our glorious Blue Eyed Babygirl King™️ If you need me, I will be in witness protection before Gege finds this since it’s a crime to be a S*toru lover. 

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