#but like. man. so many things that i remember being like The Big Moments are just not

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[lesbiten]

as someone who isnt like. huge on d3stiel. i will say it is interesting going through and seeing all the 'big d3stiel' moments in context and some of them are very 'yeah, i get that' and othes are '...you have to purposely take this extremely far out of context and then spin it around in a circle to interpret it the way you did'

[bbeeohazardd]

jrwi fan community on twitter THE most annoying place on earth, my congolences to jrwicrew because good lird

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[aemondsbabe]

What is Owed

summary: the gold cloaks raid the brothel, you make a deal to secure your freedom

pairing: harwin strong x lyseni!reader x daemon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is briefly described as having lyseni features (pale hair, purple eyes) but no other physical descriptors are used, mentions of sex work, reader is a sex worker, breast/nipple play, dirty talk, double penetration, piv sex, anal sex, anal fingering, regular fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, double creampie oh jeez, oral (m receiving), handjobs, hands on necks, "whore" is used both as a pet name and degradingly we love innovation, big hulking men idk, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.7k

a/n: so sorry for being away! wasn't intentional, just busy with life things! but god i missed writing and i'm so happy to finally have this one done! daddies galore!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

❤️my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

A barely concealed sigh of disgust leaves your lips, which remain pulled into a tight, docile smile as some lord, whose name you couldn’t be bothered to remember, finally finishes over your bare chest with a beastly grunt, his hips twitching as you stroke him through it. 

Took his sweet time, you think as you rise to your feet and quickly grab one of the spare cloths stashed in the nearby vanity to wipe his spend from your chest. Depositing the cloth in a nearby basket, you take a moment to right your dress and run your fingers through your pale hair. Finally, you turn back around and eye the man still lying across the ornate chaise catching his breath. 

You glance at his trousers, still haphazardly piled on the floor, before checking him once more, smirking when you see that his eyes are still closed. Carefully, you make your way over to his trousers and kneel once more as you grab for the heap of fabric; keeping your eyes on him, you swiftly rifle through the pockets and smile triumphantly as you pull a few coins from one – one golden dragon, three copper stars, and a half-penny. 

Grinning, you toss the man’s trousers back onto the floor before quickly grabbing the small coin purse you keep tucked away beneath the chaise, way back toward the wall and covered by the ends of one of the red satin curtains that cover the windows of the brothel – the perfect hiding spot until you can move them to the more secure lock-box beneath your bed. 

“Mmph,” the lord sighs, stirring finally just as you drop the last coin into your pouch. Shoving it back beneath the chaise, you quickly rise to your feet with a placid smile just as he finishes stretching. 

“Some wine for you, my lord,” you smile, keeping your voice light and sweet in just the way the Madam likes as you offer him a goblet, “To replenish your strength.”

“Yes, yes,” the older man mumbles, paying you no mind as he busies himself with the buttons on his tunic, “Fetch me my trousers,” he commands, brushing you off with a wave of his hand. 

“Of course, my lord,” you nod, teeth gritting as you set the goblet back down before grabbing his blasted trousers with an eye roll. He all but snatches them from you with a pompous little hum, not even looking in your direction. Once again behaving as the Madam demands, you merely stand by while he redresses, hands clasped demurely in front of you as you wait to be of service once again, or, hopefully, to kindly escort him to the door. 

You don’t mind working in the brothel, not really, especially knowing that it could be much worse – you could’ve ended up as one of the many beggars that line the streets of Flea Bottom or, more dreadful still, stuck as a slave back home. It was luck, really, that brought you to the brothel in the first place, back when you were still stumbling half-blind with grief around the fish market by the docks only to be plucked up by chance by a few of the girls from the brothel. They’d brought you back here, promising that the Madam would take you in, that you’d earn great money with your exotic looks. 

One of those things had been true – the Madam was very happy to take you in. Technically, you do also make great money… for the brothel; only a small percentage is ever paid back to the workers and, for your circumstances, that just won’t do. Which is precisely why you sometimes took a little tip for yourself, especially if your client for the evening was of higher status; it’s not as if they’d miss, or even notice, a few missing coins. 

As far as you’re concerned, it’s a flawless system. 

You’re brought out of your short reverie by another sigh from the lord as he polishes off the goblet of wine you’d offered some moments ago and once more, your lips quirk up into a pleasing smile, “Leaving so soon, my lord?”

“Mm,” he merely grumbles before flashing you a lecherous grin, his yellowed teeth making your stomach turn, “Worry not, girl, I’ll be back before the tournament’s over.”

“Wonderful,” you sigh, grimacing internally as you make a half-step toward the arched doorway, “I’ll see you out.” Blessedly, the lord makes no more of a fuss and lets you lead him to the entryway, sparing you one final nod before slipping down the dimly lit street. 

You remain in the doorway for a moment more, arms crossed over your chest as you gaze outside, relishing the feel of the cool night air against your skin. After a moment, though, your eyes narrow when you realize the streets seem much quieter than usual. At this hour, there would normally be more people about – some returning from a long day of work, others already stumbling around drunk, but tonight there were only a few scattered people roaming about. 

“Strange…,” you murmur to yourself, absentmindedly running a finger over the gold chain around your neck, your fingers brushing over the small key hanging from it. Sparing a glance up at the Dragonpit looming on the nearby hill, you finally close the door with a shrug. Returning to the room you’d serviced the lord in, you glance around quickly to make sure the coast is clear before you retrieve the small coin purse from beneath the chaise, smiling at the weight of it as you carry it swiftly back to your bed, to your little lockbox, wholly unaware of the envious gaze on your back. 

“Commander on the floor!” One of the Gold Cloaks shouts as Daemon prowls into the hall, a self-righteous smirk on his lips as the drum of fists against chest plates ceases. 

“When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels,” he growls, dark violet eyes surveying the men around him, “Starving and undisciplined!” 

He pauses for a second, heart pounding with the heady sensation of power as he prepares to do what his dear older brother cannot – punish. Too long have the streets of King’s Landing, of his city gone to the Seven Hells; controlled by crime and near-anarchy when they should be controlled by him, by the dread of his authority. 

“Now, you’re a pack of hounds,” his voice rises as he speaks, as he breathes life into his men, “You’re sated and honed for the hunt!”

Howls erupt around the hall, making the prince’s lips stretch into a vicious grin – his men were ready, ready to rule with the iron fist Viserys lacked. 

“My brother’s city has fallen into squalor!” He says, pacing down the room, “Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive!”

His chainmail clinks with each of his heavy steps, pride swelling in his chest as many of the soldiers nod their heads along with him. It was true, after all, everyone knew it. Viserys may have the crown, the damned throne, but the dragonfire in his veins had run cold long ago. The blood in Daemon’s burns hot, however; centuries of power and glory fuel his fires, flowing through him like the lava in the Dragonmont. 

“No longer,” he grunts, pausing at the end of the hall, the silken cloth draped over his shoulders shining in the light of the torches lining the room as he turns to eye his men, smirking at the blood lust evident on their faces, “Beginning tonight, King’s Landing will learn to fear the color gold!”

A loud bang wakes you sometime later and you sit up with a small gasp, clutching the linen bed sheets. Whipping your head around, you can see the dark night sky still looms heavily over the city through the slats in the window – you must’ve not been asleep very long. 

Another cry from somewhere outside finally gets you moving and you quickly wrap yourself in an embroidered silk robe, tying it loosely around your waist as you move closer to the door, your ears perked at the sound of frantic whispers. Poking your head through the beaded curtain that separates the sleeping quarters from one of the hallways, you finally spot a familiar face in the dim candlelight. 

“Genna!” You whisper, waving one of the other working girls over, “What’s going on, what’s happened?”

“Gold Cloaks!” She hisses, working quickly to stuff an armful of dresses into a small bag, “They’ve gone mad, they’re rounding up damn near everyone out there!”

“Gone mad?” You echo, brows pinching together as you look toward the entrance, another muffled cry from outside catching your attention, along with the sounds of metal clanging against metal. 

Genna merely nods as she practically shoves past you to get into the room before quickly loading her bag with various perfumes, oils, and loose jewelry from one of the vanities, “One of the regulars came by, woke everyone up,” she explains as she quickly ties the bag off, “They’re taking in anyone who’s so much as nicked an apple from the market.”

Your eyes go wide at her words, head ringing as blood rushes to your cheeks. Thankfully, she seems too busy to notice you glance warily at your bed, knowing your lockbox with weeks worth of lifted coins is tucked neatly below it. 

“I’m telling you, if you’ve pocketed even one extra groat, you’re as good as dead,” She shakes her head as she slings her bag over one shoulder, “Get out while you can, yeah? I think they’re a ways away st–”

A deafening crash from the front of the building cuts her off, the both of you shrieking. Your heart pounds in your chest at the sound of men’s voices; yours and Genna’s heads swivel to face one another at the same time before you both glance at the large wardrobe in the corner of the room – big enough for someone to climb inside of. 

It seems you both have the same idea at the same time, each of you scrambling toward the cupboard. She’s a second behind you, though, her hefty bag slowing her by an instant and she yelps as you pull the wooden doors closed, pinching one of her fingers. You push yourself as far back in the cramped space as you can, trying to tuck yourself behind the hanging coats and dresses.

Finally, you stay as still as possible, chest heaving as your back presses into the wood behind you. You hear a muffled curse from Genna before she shrieks as heavy footsteps flood into the room. 

“Shut it, whore!” A guard yells and the sound of a harsh slap makes you cover your mouth with a hand. 

“Careful!” A different voice shouts as more heavy footsteps sound outside, “She’s a woman, not a shadowcat,” the new voice admonished, “Take her outside with the others, then go ahead and take the wagons to the dungeons below the Keep. No harm is to come to any of them, understood?”

“But the Commander sai–”

“I don’t give a shit what the Commander said,” the man all but growled, “I am your superior still, soldier, you take orders from me; I’ll worry about him. The night’s gotten out of hand as it is.”

“Yes, Captain,” the first man grumbles after a second. Heavy footsteps sound for an instant before Genna shrieks again, “I said shut it, whore!” The man’s voice is a bit muffled this time, further away. 

“Tell the Commander I’m searching in here!” The second voice calls out gruffly; silently, you curse. 

You hold yourself as still as possible as the muffled sounds of opening drawers and cabinets sound from outside the wardrobe, slowly but surely getting closer to you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the wardrobe doors are tugged open, yet you hold yourself still and squeeze your eyes closed, a naïve part of you hoping the soldier would just overlook you.

Of course that doesn’t happen. 

“I do see you, you know,” the gruff voice sighs, his eyes on you, “Come on, out,” he commands. 

Finally, you open your eyes and peek at him through gaps of fabric, warily taking in his appearance. Your eyes widen at his size, truly a mountain of a man, with curly dark hair and matching dark eyes, clad in metal plate armor with a familiar golden cloak around his shoulders. The look in his eyes is neutral, if not sympathetic, but you still don’t move, rooted to the spot. 

With another sigh, he shakes his head at you and beckons you forward with a wave of his hand, “Please make this easy.” 

When you still don’t move after a few more seconds, the man grumbles and reaches in, shoving past various articles of clothing until he grabs at your forearm and pulls you, stumbling, from the wardrobe. 

“Let me go!” You cry, struggling in his grasp like a fish on a line, “Let me go, damn you! I haven’t done anything!” You shriek loudly, uselessly kicking your feet as he holds you steady at arms length. 

“Easy!” The dark-haired man shouts over your screeches, “If you’ll just calm–”

“What’s this?” Another voice questions from the doorway, making both of you pause. Your eyes widen when you see the man, dressed in the same gold cloaked armor as the one holding you, though this one has purple eyes and pale white hair cascading over his shoulders, complete with a familiar face you’d seen before in the shadowy corners of the brothel, “Is that her?”

Her? You balk, glancing between the two men, They were looking for me?

The brunette stays silent for a moment, bushy brows furrowed together as he looks between you and the prince, brown eyes meeting two sets of purple, “She’s not… one of his, is she?” He asks quietly, only confusing you more. 

Prince Daemon merely chuckles and shakes his head as he traipses toward you with a smirk. “Ohh, no, definitely not,” he mutters, squeezing your cheeks in one large, gloved hand as he forces your face to lift up toward his, “No, my dearest brother would never dare betray his wife so.”

He tilts your head from side to side, studying your face carefully, before making you face him once again as the other guard keeps hold of your arm, “What’s your name, girl?”

You glance between the men, caged in between their large frames, before finally telling them, each syllable merely a whisper on your lips.

The prince repeats it with a smug smile, the sound of your name on his tongue makes your head spin. “Ah, see, just as I thought,” he smirks, a pleased twinkle in his violet eyes, “A Lyseni whore.”

The other man merely grunts, though you don’t miss the way his dark brown eyes flit over your form appreciatively. Daemon moseys around the room, eyes scanning over the row of matching twin beds lined against one wall. “Which is yours?”

“I… I don’t sleep in here, my pr–”

“Lying won’t do you any good, you know,” he smirks, “We’ve had eyes and ears all over the city for months, including here. So, I’ll ask again. Which bed?”

You hesitate, only for a moment, before nodding at the bed to the far right. Your mind reels as Daemon begins his search, Someone was spying in here? One of the other girls?

“Aha!” He says after only a moment and your heart sinks as he pulls your small wooden lockbox out from its hiding spot. He drops it down onto your bed with a gloating smirk and you glance up just in time to see one of the prince’s pale hands reaching for the key at your neck, easily tugging it off the chain as you gasp and jerk once more in the other man’s grasp. “That was a gift from my father!”

“Daemon, please,” the other man sighs tiredly, scrambling to hold you in place once more, “Was that truly necessary?”

“Don’t start with me, Strong,” the prince huffs, moving to unlock the box, “You’ve spoiled my night of fun enough as is.” A low whistle sounds from his lips as he flips open the lid, quickly shuffling through the various coins, small pieces of jewelry, and other trinkets you’ve managed to swipe. 

“Seems we got the right one after all,” the man holding your arm, the one apparently called Strong, murmurs, nodding toward you.

“Of course we got the right bloody one,” Daemon scoffs, violet eyes rolling in his head, “I only know of two Lyseni whores in this city and it certainly isn’t the other one.” 

“Mysaria!” You whisper lowly, eyes widening as puzzle pieces begin clicking together in your mind.

The prince merely laughs, looking between you and the other knight as if you’ve just told some hilarious joke. “Finally figured it out, eh?” He teases, sauntering over to where you’re still being held. 

As soon as he’s in reach, the guard holding you grabs your other arm as well, holding them both behind your back as if you’d be stupid enough to try anything against two Gold Cloaks. Even if you did manage to free yourself, what would be the point in running now? 

“Seems we have a clever whore on our hands, Strong,” Daemon drawls, grinning when you flinch as he grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his once more, “And a pretty one too. You must earn enough to pay your keep, no? A little exotic flower like you is bound to get plucked at often enough.”

You wait for him to continue speaking but he doesn’t, he simply waits, eyes boring into you as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. For all you know, he can – you’ve heard whispers around King’s Landing of how the Targaryens were supposedly closer to Gods than men. 

“I suppose so, my prince,” you all but squeak a moment later, unable to bear the intense silence any longer. 

“Then tell me,” you gasp as he suddenly turns your head, directing your gaze toward the small wooden lockbox strewn open on your bed, “Why does a well paid whore need to steal? Hm?”

“I wasn’t stealing for me!” You blurt, chest heaving.

“Then why do it?” You startle slightly as the knight behind you speaks, his grip on your wrists loosening enough for you to relax some in his grasp. For someone so gruff and intimidating, there was a distinctive warmth to his voice – a soft, kind lilt. 

With a sigh, you glance between the two men before speaking, “I send it back to my family, once every other moon or so.”

“You send money to your family,” Daemon echos, purple eyes narrowed suspiciously, “In Lys, I presume?”

You simply nod, your eyes downcast as the men share a look over your head.

“Why do you need to send them money?” The Strong guard asks as he releases your arms, brown eyes watching you closely. 

“My father was a merchant,” you begin, nervously fiddling with the tie on your robe, “He would travel to Volantis a few times a year to buy the more exotic goods shipped in from cities further east, from the other side of Slaver’s Bay, to bring back to sell in Lys. He could get a better price for them at home, Westerosi ships rarely go any further than our ports and they were willing to pay more.” 

“And then, one time he left for Volantis and… never came back,” you continue, your voice only a raspy whisper as the back of your throat tightens, “We received word some months later that there had been a slave rebellion in the city and that my father had been killed in it. So, now I send money back so that my mother and siblings are able to pay for our house, because in Lys, if you can no longer afford your land you –”

“You risk becoming a slave yourself,” the brunette knight finishes, sighing sympathetically when you nod.

“How very touching,” the prince mutters, though you can see pity clouding his eyes as well. 

“Perhaps we should just let her go,” the Strong guard says after a moment, making you whip your head toward him in shock, “She isn’t a danger to anyone.”

“She may not be,” Daemon says, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “But a drunken, disgruntled lord who’s discovered his gold missing certainly is.”

The brown haired man hums thoughtfully at his reasoning and both of them eye you for a moment, silence falling over the room. 

Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you silently reason that you have two options – convince them to free you or wind up in a cell beneath the Red Keep. Being locked away simply isn’t an option, not for you, as that would mean being unable to send money to your family and although petty theft doesn’t carry the penalty of death, you know that if anything were to happen to them, you’d wish it did. 

Gathering your courage, you look between the two men, eyeing them up and down. “Perhaps,” you start, loosening the tie on your robe just enough to bare your cleavage just a bit more, “I could convince you that I’m worth much more as a free woman?” 

“Little minx,” the prince rasps, stepping toward you and grasping at your jaw once more, “Maybe you’ll prove useful after all,” he says cryptically. 

Before you have time to dwell on his words, he releases you and busies himself with quickly unbuckling his plate armor, letting the chest and torso pieces noisily clank on the floor as they fall against a pile of gold cloth. 

You gasp as Daemon grabs you by the hips and pulls you to him, pressing himself against you tightly as his rough hands roam over your soft curves. You can’t help but giggle as an appreciative grunt leaves his lips, violet eyes darkening as they meet yours. 

“Daemon,” the other guard starts with a sigh, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. 

“Come, ser Strong,” the prince growls, hastily turning you to face the brown eyed man. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you look him up and down, the corners of your lips quirking up into a small smile when you see the flush on his cheeks, “It would be rude to turn down what our little mouse is so generously offering, hm?” The feel of Daemon’s hands on your body makes your eyes flutter closed for just a second, only to snap back open when he roughly grabs at your breasts just as his teeth press against the column of your throat, eliciting a soft cry from you. 

“O-Oh!”

“See? Listen to that,” Daemon says, words muffled against your skin, “She likes it, don’t you?” 

You quickly nod your head yes, head clouded by the feel of the prince’s length as it presses against the small of your back, hard enough to be felt through the trousers they wear under their armor. He chuckles as he suddenly cups your center, the silky fabric of your robe pressing against your already aching flesh, and nips at your neck once more before releasing you. 

“Go,” he murmurs, giving you a gentle push toward the other knight, “Make the stubborn bore more comfortable.”

Biting your lip, you approach the man with a little grin. Standing before him, you move your hand to his shoulder, to the buckles of his plate armor. 

“Is this okay?” 

All he gives you is a curt nod, but it’s enough for you. With another reassuring smile, you pull at the leather buckles, unstrapping them one by one until he grabs at his chest plate and sets it on the floor, more gentle with it than Daemon had been. 

Pausing for a second, you cock your head to the side curiously. “I know him,” you say with a nearly bashful smile, nodding your head at the prince, “But what do I call you, Ser?”

“Harwin, my lady. Just Harwin.”

Still sensing hesitance from him, you decide to be bold and gently take one of his hands and place it on one of your breasts, peering up into his deep brown eyes all the while. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile at the low groan that rumbles from his chest and you marvel at how warm his touch is through your robe, though before you have time to linger on it further, Harwin surges forward and presses his lips against yours. 

You still for a second, not having expected such boldness from a man who had held so much back thus far. Getting your wits about you, you quickly respond in kind and move your lips with his, leaning into him a bit more as you grab at his shoulders. A pleased hum leaves your lips as his hands begin exploring you, seeming to grab and knead at any bits of you he can like he’s been starved for touch for years. 

He groans into the kiss once more when you nip at his bottom lip, prompting him to slip his tongue into your mouth, which earns a small whimper from you as one of your hands slips down from his shoulder to rest on his toned, muscular chest. 

The sudden feel of another presence at your back makes you jump slightly – you’d gotten so wrapped up in Harwin that you’d nearly forgotten that Daemon was still in the room, though the knowledge that he’d been watching the two of you sends an excited zing up your spine. 

“Oh!” You gasp as he begins nipping and biting at your neck once more, soothing the marks he leaves behind with his tongue. Your lips move against Harwin’s as another pair of hands begins exploring you, impatiently tugging at the tie around your waist until your robe falls open. A whine leaves you as the knight’s hands immediately cup your bare breasts, kneading them and savoring the way your soft skin feels against his palms. At the same time, Daemon nearly growls as he presses himself against your ass, grinding his length against you as his hands grip at your hips and waist. 

“I believe you said something about convincing us?” He mutters against your neck, grinning when you pull away from Harwin and meet his gaze as you turn to look over your shoulder, brow raising when you see he’d taken the time to strip off his tunic at some point. 

“Quite right, my prince,” you grin, looking between the two men once more before slipping off your robe, leaving you bare as it pools on the floor. Your cheeks flush at their appreciative groans, skin prickling at the way you can practically feel their eyes on you. 

With another little breath, you lower yourself to your knees between them and immediately skim your hands over their strong thighs. Ever eager, Daemon quickly unties his trousers, a predatory gleam in his purple eyes as he frees his hardening length. 

You bite your bottom lip at the sight of it and quickly reach up to wrap a hand around it, marveling at the way it hardens steadily under your touch. “I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive,” you murmur, softly licking over the tip before sealing your lips around it and suckling gently while you gaze up at him, batting your lashes enticingly. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, long fingers threading into your hair as his head tips back. You grin around him, bobbing your head while you stroke over the rest of his length with a hand, laving your tongue over the head. 

Not forgetting about Harwin, you shift your gaze to him as your other hand palms his length where it presses against the rough fabric of his trousers, already hard and wanting. That seems to be the final straw for him and he scrambles to undo the ties, brown eyes glued to where your lips are wrapped around the prince’s hard cock. 

Your eyes widen when his length finally springs free and you let Daemon slip from your lips as your mouth falls open. “Seven Hells,” you murmur, watching as Harwin strokes a hand over his cock, a proud smirk on his lips. 

“Well now, that must be where your damn stubborn attitude comes from, Strong,” the prince teases, chest heaving as you continue stroking a hand over his length. 

Unable to resist, you brush the knight’s hand away before grasping his cock in your own, heart skipping a beat as your fingers hardly touch around the girth of it. You lean over and lick up the length of him, from the base to the very tip, before taking him into your mouth, bobbing your head in the same way you did with Daemon. 

It takes a few moments, but eventually you settle into a good rhythm – stroking one man’s member with your hand while you suck and lick at the others, swapping every few moments or when one of them gets impatient enough to tug you over by the hair. 

It’s easy to lose yourself in the cacophonous sounds of grunts and growls above you, at the way each man’s fingers thread into your hair differently. Daemon’s grip is much rougher, more commanding, as he drags you exactly where he wants, pushing and pulling your head along his cock in an exacting rhythm. 

Harwin, on the other hand, is more gentle — his tugs seeming more like suggestions than commands. Unlike the prince, he strokes over your hair gently as you attend to him, letting you set your own pace. Anytime your eyes meet his, he looks at you with awe almost, hairy chest heaving as his hips twitch, holding himself back from fucking your face in the way he wants. 

Daemon has no such qualms, hasn’t the patience to resist tugging at your hair as he presses your mouth lower and lower down his cock, relishing the way you choke and sputter. His violet, half-lidded gaze sends shivers through you each time your eyes meet, the look in his eyes echoing the fierce dragon’s blood flowing in his veins. 

Surprisingly, it’s Harwin that breaks first, tossing back his head with a low groan after some minutes and pulling you off of his cock. 

“What—?” You scarcely get the word out before his lips are on yours once again, tongue licking into your mouth. 

“Need you,” he mumbles simply, glaring as Daemon snickers behind your back. “Please,” he breathes, voice softer this time. 

“You needn’t ask,” Daemon drawls, pressing himself against your side as his hands paw at your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples and chuckling at the way you whine, “She’s a whore.” 

You roll your eyes playfully at the remark and grab Harwin’s hand, leading him toward one of the bigger rooms of the brothel. “That may be true, but perhaps I like a man with some decorum, my prince,” you call over your shoulder, chuckling as Daemon follows hot on your heels. 

You lead the men to one of the fancier rooms, one laden with imported ornate rugs and silken lamps that give it a warm red glow, complete with a giant circular daybed with plenty of room for all three of you. After all, if the brothel is empty, why not take advantage of it?

Putting on your very best show, you push at Harwin’s hairy chest until he sits back on the edge of the bed before walking over to him with a sly smirk, hips swaying enticingly. A chuckle leaves your lips when his eyes widen as you climb on his lap, your thighs bracketing his. 

“Is this ok –” His lips are on yours before you can finish the question; the both of you move a bit more desperately now, though his touches are no less attentive as his hands skim over your waist and up your back. 

Suddenly, you’re tugged away from Harwin’s lips with a little gasp as one of Daemon’s hands laces through the hair at the crown of your head, drawing you back until your spine is arched. 

“Forgetting someone?” He teases, lightly wrapping his other hand around your neck in a way that sends pleasant tingles down to your already aching center. You shake your head no, teeth biting into your bottom lip as Harwin’s cock twitches between your legs.

“Never, my prince,” you murmur, smiling into the kiss as Daemon presses his lips against yours. His movements are more urgent than Harwin’s and it soon dissolves into a battle of teeth and tongues; you mewl into his mouth when the hand around your neck slides down your chest and palms eagerly at one of your breasts. 

Though they’re closed, your eyes roll back as Harwin leans forward and begins mouthing at the side of your neck, his wavy hair tickling your shoulder. Soon enough, both men are pawing greedily at your chest, making your head spin – both of their touches are so different: where Daemon is rough, pinching at your nipple until you gasp and whine into his kiss, Harwin is gentle and uses his thumb to tease at the other until he feels you shivering on his lap. 

The knight surprises you once more when his touch skirts down over your stomach before his fingers run through your folds, making you jerk from Daemon’s grasp with a moan. Your cheeks flush slightly at the sight of the little victorious grin on Harwin’s face as he expertly circles your pearl, watching closely at the way his touch makes you squirm and grind down against his hard length. 

“That’s it,” he husks, grunting as your grasp tightens on his shoulders, nails digging into his lightly tanned skin, “Need to warm you up, don’t I?”

Beside you, Daemon scoffs as he stands straight once more, fingers still threaded through your hair. “Please,” he huffs, sliding closer to where you sit on the knight’s lap, until his length is practically brushing against your cheek, “Whores don’t need warming, Strong. You may as well take her.”

Before you have time to so much as register the jab, Harwin slips a thick finger inside you in the same instance that Daemon manhandles his cock into your waiting mouth, muffling your whimpers. Both men growl as they take you, the knight’s finger fucking easily into your wet channel as the prince’s length slides against your tongue once more. 

You can hardly do more than ragdoll in their grasp, mewling while Harwin fingers you open, adding a second digit after a moment and crooking them in a way that makes your hips rut eagerly into his touch while Daemon takes from you as he pleases, fucking into your throat with loud growls and grunts. 

Below you, Harwin groans as he easily presses a third finger into your heat, watching you carefully as he does and smirking when you show no signs of discomfort. “Think you’re ready for me,” he murmurs, chuckling when you nod your head as best as you can. As desperate as you are to be filled properly, you can’t help but let out a little petulant whine as he pulls his fingers from you. 

“Patience,” he grunts, shifting you on his lap enough to reach between your bodies and fist his length, grinning at the way you squirm eagerly as he runs the head through your slick folds. His chest reverberates under your palms when he growls as he finally grabs at your hips and pulls you down steadily over his thick cock, half-lidded eyes staring down at where you both connect, “Fuck, there you go.”

You pull away from Daemon with a loud gasp, sucking in a lungful of air, chest heaving as your walls pulse around the knight, savoring the way his stretches you open. “Gods!” You cry, wriggling in his hold as you grind against him, your hips moving of their own accord. 

Daemon huffs, annoyed, and tries dragging you back onto his cock a few times to no avail, quickly becoming irritated at the way you mindlessly clench your jaw closed each time Harwin’s cock presses against the sensitive spot within you. 

“Poor little whore,” the prince sighs exasperatedly, once again tugging your head back until your eyes meet his, “Too distracted, hm?”

You open your lips to reply, only to gasp dazedly as Harwin thrusts up into you from below, muscular thighs flexing under your own. “Give her a moment,” he grunts, gripping your hips to guide you over his length.

The prince merely tsks, pulling at your hair again until your eyes pop open; a shiver goes through you at the smirk that graces his lips, as if he knows something you don’t. “Tell me,” he starts, carding his long fingers through your hair, “Have you ever taken two cocks at once?”

“N – fuck!” You gasp, eyes rolling back briefly as Harwin ruts up into you quickly, evidently excited by the idea, “N-No.” 

“Hmm,” Daemon hums, smirk only widening, “Then I know just the way to get your attention.”

He moves away from you quickly, letting your head flop back uselessly as he walks swiftly to a small cabinet in the corner of the room where the Madam keeps a small stock of massage oils and lotions. You straighten just in time to watch as he stalks back over to you and Harwin, a vial of oil in hand. “I trust you have at least some experience with this, yes?” He questions, letting out a pleased hum when you nod. 

The two men share a look between them and you mewl as Harwin lays back against the day bed, pulling you with him until you’re lying against his chest, making you gasp as the change in angle presses his length squarely against the most sensitive spot within you. 

“Hold her steady,” Daemon murmurs behind you, uncorking the little bottle of oil.

The knight grunts when you tighten around him and one of his hands abandons its hold on your hip to cup one of your cheeks, his touch surprisingly delicate for a man of his stature. “Excited?” He questions, brown eyes studying your face carefully. 

Any reply dies on your lips in lieu of an eager gasp when you feel the prince’s presence behind you, his hips nearly touching your rear as he slots himself between Harwin’s legs. Still, you nod your head earnestly, sending pearlescent hair cascading over your shoulders to pool on the knight’s chest.

Harwin’s chest rumbles with a satisfied hum, though you’re left gasping at the feel of one of Daemon’s hands deftly parting your arse cheeks, swiftly followed by massage oil being drizzled between them, filling the room with the scent of lavender. When you jolt slightly at the feel of a finger skirting over your entrance, the prince is quick to reprimand you with a sharp slap to the rear, leaving your skin tingling in its wake. 

“You’re going to be good for us?” Harwin questions, drawing your attention back to him as he smooths a thumb over your cheekbone. 

“Y-Yes, yes,” you nod listlessly, breaths staggered as Daemon fingers you open, expertly preparing you. Again, you earn a pleased hum from the man below you. 

The next few moments pass in a blur – your head spins as the prince readies you and Harwin placates you all the while with gentle caresses and kisses, even snaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your aching pearl.

Finally, Daemon seems satisfied and pulls his fingers from you before slotting himself against you, quickly slicking up his cock with more of the oil before pressing the head against your opening, grinning smugly when you press back against him. 

“Fuck, there we go,” he rasps, carefully sliding his length into you until his hips meet your backside. 

A high, whining keen is pulled from your lungs at the stretch, tingles shooting up your spine and making you shudder at the feel of being this filled. You can do little more but gasp, pinned between two muscular bodies, as the men start to move. The feel of it is like none other, a constant push and pull as they thrust in and out of you in tandem. 

“G-Gods, fuck!” You finally cry, managing to suck in a lungful of air as your nails dig into Harwin’s chest. 

The knight beneath you isn’t faring much better than you are, a near constant stream of deep grunts and groans leaving his lips as he feels you tighten on his cock. “By the Seven, you feel divine,” he mumbles, making you cry out as he pulls you to him, strong hands encircling your waist as he mouths at your shoulder, biting at your skin.

Above you, Daemon’s violet eyes remain fixed on your ass, savoring the way it bounces each time his hips smack against it, watching as his length spears into you again and again. “What a good little whore,” he grunts, words short and clipped as he clenches his jaw. A stuttered moan is pulled from you as he grabs at your backside, fingers do doubt leaving bruises in their wake as he gropes you, “Taking us so well.”

Your muscles tense at the praise as your high threatens to overwhelm you, looming in a small pit in your belly that’s growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. Your walls tighten around Harwin again, making him hiss beneath you. 

“Gonna, Gods, I –” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the knight bullies the sensitive spot within you, pounding against it with each rough thrust, making your words die on your tongue. 

Thankfully, Harwin understands perfectly, balancing on that thin precipice himself – the cacophonous litany of your moans and whines along with the lewd, wet sounds of their cocks plunging into you again and again only serving to push him further to his own end. 

“That’s it,” the knight rasps, grabbing your chin with one hand and directing your attention toward him once more, “Go on, peak, let me feel it.”

His command, along with another hard smack to your rear from Daemon, send you hurtling over the edge with a sharp, loud cry. You lose all sense between them, muscles clenching and relaxing rhythmically as your whole body seems to erupt into flame. 

The gorgeous look on your face, along with the steady pulse of your walls around him, finish Harwin as well. A deep groan, complementary to your own high-pitched whines, is all but punched from his chest as his length twitches within you, painting your walls with his spend. 

As your peak slowly settles, like waves receding at low tide, you’re left gasping, clinging to Harwin as Daemon still thrusts wildly into you, chasing his own high. Desperate to feel you clench around him once more, the prince reaches around, over your hip, and his greedy fingers quickly find your bud. 

“Oh!” You gasp, squirming in the knight’s grasp as the prince’s fingers roughly rub against your pearl, forcibly dragging you right back to the edge you’d just fallen from. 

“Come on,” Daemon grunts, tugging you up by the shoulder until your back presses against his chest, deep, vicious grunts filling your ear, “One more, little whore, fucking do it for me.”

You scramble in his hold, lips parting in a silent cry as your muscles jerk in sharp, uncoordinated movements. Unable to extract yourself from his hold, the overstimulation finally gives way to blinding pleasure once more and you peak with a loud, piercing yelp. 

Daemon grunts behind you, pleased, as your walls all but force a high from him as well. He thrusts into you a few more times, groaning at the feel of your slick coating his fingers and pooling between your bodies. Finally, he lets go, grumbling low words in a language you don’t understand as he fills you. 

The only sounds in the near empty brothel is the sound of staggered pants as the three of you catch your breaths, content to do little more than lie in a heap for a few moments. 

It’s Daemon that moves first, pulling himself from you with a muted grunt before swaggering over to a small vanity, pulling up and tying his trousers as he goes. 

Harwin soothes you with gentle touches as he pulls away, keenly aware of the way you wince at certain movements, overly sensitive now. “Are you okay?” He asks, voice gentler now as he surveys your body, “Nothing hurts?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his concern, so unused to men caring for you once they finish. “I’m fine, I assure you,” your lips quirk into a smile as you soothe his worries, a little sigh leaving your lips as you settle back against the silken sheets that cover the daybed. 

“Here,” Daemon grunts with indifference as he tosses a clean cloth at you, more than familiar with the layout of the place, “To clean yourself.”

You huff softly and roll your eyes playfully before grabbing the small towel and standing to wipe spend and extra oil from your skin, making a mental note to heat water for a proper bath as soon as the men leave. 

It’s then that it occurs to you that they may not let you stay, what if even this wasn’t enough to secure your freedom, to get them to overlook your transgressions? 

“So,” you start, discarding the cloth in a laundry basket by the vanity before turning and facing the men, surprised to find Harwin’s eyes already on you, “Forgive and forget, yes? The debt has been paid, etcetera?”

They share a look as they dress themselves, Daemon loosely pulling on his armor, opting to tuck most of it beneath an arm, though Harwin takes the time to fasten his properly. 

“Oh, I think you’ve more than convinced us to spare you, little minx,” the prince drawls, eyes roving over your still nude form as he approaches you and takes your chin between two long fingers, “As for your debt, well…”

You grin as he trails off, two pairs of purple eyes sliding over to Harwin. 

“There’s still the interest to consider,” he murmurs with a little chuckle, dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[moonit3]

A LOYAL BUTLER pt. 2

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, nsfw, cunnilingus, handjob, blowjob, afab! reader, male! yandere, dom! reader, sub! yandere, kissing, dry humping, non penetration but smut, I don’t how to write moans so bare with me, implied overstimulation.

➥ synopsis: a party leads to an unexpected moment for you and elliot that makes the relationship even more intimate.

➥ yandere! butler x f! reader

➥ a/n: with the help and guidance of @taeee0902 , im bringing the second part of the story that many of you have been waiting for! keep in minds this is probably the now longest piece of the blog for now, also the most long smut ive write before \(//∇//)\ so im hoping to all of you enjoy this piece as i loved writing this one! also, this is part two of this post! so check it out for some context.

➥ it’s been a few weeks since you and elliot got closer than ever. letting his hands and lips going over your body during working hours, making you feel relieved after long days of paperwork and making you feel so much pleasure from his hands alone. to think he is doing it almost daily is insane, specially when it’s risky to be caught. one time, elliot touched you in the library, despite knowing there were servants around.

➥ the occasions when he isn’t touching nor speaking dirty things to your ears, elliot still helps with your family’s finances. despite being your lover behind the curtains, he still needs to be a presentable man to keep his job as your personal butler, but also to prevent anyone from finding it out the relationship you two share. elliot knows how many people wants to steal you away from him.

➥ “you are mine, [name]…” his hands holds your waist down to the bed, preventing you from escaping his touch as he teases your entrance. the lovely sounds coming out from your lips and seeing how your eyes are rolling back makes him smile. “none can see you like this but me, do you understand me?” the only thing you could do is nodded, too busy to speak when his fingers entered your hole and too much concentrated to not moan loudly, too focused to not moan out loud of this situation.

➥ and his touchy attitude got more intense with the invitation from an old friend of your late father. a gala where many nobles will celebrate the birth of the new addition of the duke’s family, not a big deal though. however when the party started, noblemen got all over you, asking for your hand and shameless flirting with you, not caring it’s that is against the queen’s words.

➥ i should’ve stayed home…that you keep thinking by every time one of those old men gets closer to you, offering you to become their second or third wife. you can’t believe men like this exist, how can they be this stupid? thankfully, elliot is here to help.

➥ his expressionless face and sharp words were enough to make those men step away from you. because of that, many nobles began to believe that he is the voice of reason of the barony, a harsh and cruel butler who has to help the inexperienced baroness who inherited a large territory, but they don’t know the true, none of them really does.

➥ when it’s the time to leave the party, you decided to go to the bathroom and elliot took the opportunity to arrange the carriage. you give your best at smiling at those nobles for hours and hours, so that’s the barely minimum he can do for you. he was ready to enter the carriage to wait for you, but suddenly a maid calls for his name, one that he recognizes to be working for the party’s host.

➥ despite telling her name, elliot’s mind fail to remember as she talks and talks even more about her admiration for him. it’s an innocent crush, elliot can tell that by how her cheeks gets reds when he pretends to pay attention and how she can’t hold her voice low whatever she speaks about her current hobbies. situations like this are normal, everyone gets a crush on someone else, but this girl is getting off the hook. trying to touch his gloved hand and taking steps to be closer to him, this girl is surely bold or stupid enough to not know her place.

➥ he was ready to yell, maybe making a scene to scold her behavior, but nothing happened as you returned. with a smile on the lips, you make your way to stand next to elliot and dismiss the maid. the tone of your voice is shape and cold, completely opposite of your usual manner. it was efficient and the maid quickly left the scene, but not before staring at you with hateful eyes.

“my lady,” he is relieved by your arrival, things could’ve been different if you hadn’t arrived in time. “thank you for helping me with that maid.”

the sweet smile on your lips calm him down, “no problem, elliot. its my duty to assure that my closest friend feel uncomfortable.” is that so? your hands goes to his and you get closer to whisper your next words, “before we leave, i need to show you something. follow me~”

and he obeyed you. step by step, elliot walked behind you for a path that he didn’t visit earlier of the duke’s manor as he was too occupied by staying at your side during the party, however you seems familiar with this part of the mansion. have you visited here before? perhaps. after all, every noble knows each other from either arranged marriages or business relationships.

it took a few more minutes til you arrive at the place you wanted to show elliot, a library, where the only living souls around are you and him. the door is closed when he enters after you, there is something around that you want to show him? maybe an ancient book, money or could it be something else?

“elliot.” turning to face you, elliot is surprised by your hands pushing him to sit down an dusty empty armchair. slowly, you began unzipping the back of your dress, revealing the black bra and panties that you are wearing underneath it. what are you doing? this is unladylike of a noblewoman! but why isn’t he stopping you? “is this alright with you?”

he nodded, too busy to talk by the moment your hands hold his face closer to your. feeling your breath to his skin makes the entire world pause for an instant and the soft of your lips on his makes elliot feel the luckiest man to ever exist. the kiss was meant to last seconds, but elliot didn’t want to let go of this magnificent moment, so he pulled you closer with his own hands and kissed you for longer.

it’s a little weird to know that had touched you before in numerous occasions, but it’s just now that you shared a kiss with him, one that left a line of saliva when the two of finally separated. cheeks red and completely breathless, those are the words that describe you and elliot in this situation.

“a-are you—“ you interrupted him with another kiss, but it didn’t last long as elliot pushed you away. “we shouldn’t do this—it’s wrong and unacceptable to a noble lady kiss her servant.”

“really? off all the things we did before, you consider a kiss to be more blasphemy than those times you were in middle of my legs?” a laugh escapes from your lips, trying to minimize the awkward of this situation. “besides, i know you want this too, to take things just a little more further between the two of us.”

the embarrassment of elliot’s face faded with your words. “you want me?” the thought of alone makes him wonder for long you have planned this.

“of course i want you, elliot.” you kissed his neck, dirtying a small part of his white long shirt and smiling at his face. “but i will understand if you wish to pretend this never happened—“

“NO!” he holds your hips closer to his, not daring to let you escape from his grab nor getting up from his lap. “i want this. i want you, [name]…so please, continue to touch me as you wish, my lady.”

“then, i will begin.” you smiled.

with his hands on your hips, elliot guide you to move forward and back on his lap. soft moans comes from his mouth by every time you rub your intimate part closer to his buldge, it’s a new sensation for the butler, one that is making his body feel so good.

your hands on his shoulder makes him smile, this isn’t a dream, this is real and feeling your soft finger touching him is a reminder this whole experience is reality and he won’t ever change this for anything, not even for a fancy title.

elliot can feel that he is close. the moans turned into whimpers and whines speaking your name when his grip is getting weaker, his eyes are full of tears of pure pleasure. he wants to hold it, too make this moment last longer, but he failed to do so.

“ahhhh……mmm~!” one of your hands went to his lips, preventing elliot from moaning out loud to the entire manor, but that didn’t stop him from dirtying his brief and pants. its stick, you can feel as you get up from his lap and it’s visible if anyone pays closer attention. also the look on his face doesn’t help much either. “…[name]…”

things was supposed to end there, at least, that was elliot thought before you kneeling in front of him. before having you unzipped his pants, removing his briefs to take his cock into your hands. he couldn’t say a words, not when his own voice was betraying him by only letting the library’s wall listen to his stuffy moans.

the tears coming from his eye block mostly of his vision, only letting elliot see your blurry hands touching his cock and feeling your tongue licking the head of his member. wait. are you going to do what is he thinking? your lips gets closer to his shaft and then take as much as possible of him inside your mouth.

“ah…” elliot groans, the hand that isn’t preventing the moan from escaping goes to your head, guiding you to take just a little more of him. “hmmmm~”

the base of his cock is getting stoke with your non-dominant hand while the other one is holding his thighs from closing whatever elliot whimpers. your tongue can already taste the precum coming from the tip and he is already telling you to stop, saying that you shouldn’t drink it, that is dirty to a lady like to do it, but you don’t hear him.

and for a last time tonight, elliot whimpers as he finally came over and in return, you take it all inside your mouth. not a single drop escape from your lips as you smiled after drinking it all, impressing elliot in the process.

“elliot~” you still between his legs, holding his still hard cock in your hands. “are your ready for another round?”

“y-yes, [name].” he stuttered.

hiding behind one of the many pillars of the manor, a maid stares at the library’s door, waiting for two people to step out and to caught them for staying after the party was finished.

“my lord won’t like this at all.” a smile crept into her lips, already imagining the many scenarios of the baroness and her butler getting scolded and gaining some extra money for it. “and i might get a chance with that guy afterwards.”

the maid stood there for at least an hour or so before the door finally opened, revealing the two individuals she was hoping to see, but instead of calling their attention or some knight to scolded them, her body freeze by what she notice of them.

lipstick marks on the butler’s neck, a tiny drop of white fluids on the noble woman lips and what made her too stunned to speak…they are holding hands! a member of the high society being touchy with a mere commoner, isn’t that wrong? she was supposed to say something or at least call someone to shame them in the public eyes, but she just stood still, watching the two walking away to the entrance.

the baroness and her butler smiled to each other when stepping out of the duke’s manor, happily to their relationship getting more intimate and to the maid who was too scared to do something against them.

@moonit3 writings

[luveline]

Hey jade!! i love your writing so much<3

Also what do you think of prison!spencer × Stripper!reader?👀

im not sure if this is what you meant but I hope you like it ♡ fem, 1.2k

"Too much," you murmur to yourself, tilting your head one way and then the other. The bags under your eyes have been dark lately from a severe lack of sleep, but all this makeup won't help make tips. "Way too much." 

You lean back to ask one of the girls for a wet wipe but the dressing room is empty. Swearing to yourself, you duck down for your bag. You have tissues, and they'll have to do it. 

Things have been hard since Spencer's… event. You don't sleep well without him, worse wondering what it is he's going through right now. His friends don't really know that you're seeing one another, and so being kept in the loop has felt akin to begging for scraps. You miss Agent Hotchner in times like this. He always had a soft spot for you. 

You hum a song under your breath as you rub the cakey makeup under your eyes. Washing your face would be nice. Going home would be better. You've been trying to make some extra money in case Spencer never comes home; you won't have his security to fall back on if things fall apart here. 

You don't want his security. You just want him to come home. Sighing, you pick up your phone and open the gallery app. It's a second hand thing you got at a pawn shop but it has enough storage to keep as many blurry photos of your boyfriend as you'd like. Pictures of him everywhere and doing everything, his big smile like a beacon. 

You stop scrolling when you find the one you want. It's favourited with a red heart at the bottom of the screen. Spencer took it, you remember —you were too busy kissing his cheek to navigate the settings. He looks happy. You could never understand how happy he is to be with you, how through everything, a long time of knowing one another and a hundred thousand acts of a kindness you didn't deserve, he's stayed by your side. He doesn't care that you're a dancer. He's proud of your choices. He loves you for you, even if he does get a little jealous every now and then. 

You lay your phone down on the dressing table, cheek flat beside it. "Time to come home, Dr. Reid," you whisper. 

Your phone pings and you ignore it. It pings again and you turn off your notifications. It's probably Spencer's nice friend Penelope, or one of the girls wanting to borrow something. 

You shed your robe to look yourself over in the mirror. The lingerie you're in tonight's not to your taste but a fan favourite, the bra and underwear both plum in colour with lace and black garters to be clipped. You turn to one side and narrow your gaze at a ladder running up your leg. 

You save a bottle of clear nail polish in your bag for this occasion. 

You're sitting on the floor with your leg out in front of you when someone knocks on the door. The girls don't knock. 

If it's a patron you have a taser, and besides, they don't usually knock either. A bouncer, then. 

"Come in, please!" you call lightly. 

You don't bother looking up, a creature of habit. It'll be the same thing as usual, insert man wants to buy insert dance from you for insert amount of time. Are you interested? 

You hum as you paint the rip in your garter. The nail polish will stop it from ripping any further, but you're going to need new ones. 

"You're prettier than when I left. How did you do that?" 

You tip the bottle over as you flinch, you don't care, you look up at the compliment and the familiar voice, and find Spencer standing in the doorway. 

You've pictured this moment multiple times a day since the day he was arrested, hundreds of reactions. In pretty much all of them you throw yourself into his arms and beg him not to leave again, but all those hours of missing him coalesce on top of you. You want desperately to touch him and you end up crying into your hands instead. Tears quicker than you knew they could arrive, hot and thick as your sob. 

"Hey," Spencer says, kneeling down in front of you. He takes your wrists into his hands. "Hey… don't cry." 

You can't help it. 

He wraps his arms around you and lets you sob. "I thought you'd be happy to see me," he murmurs. 

"I missed you," you say, the words dragged from you like agony on a hook. 

"I missed you too." He rubs your back. If he cares that you're in your underwear he doesn't have much to say about it. He eventually started making jokes about all of this stuff when he realised you wouldn't be offended, but he's never cruel about anything. He's far from it now, pulling your shoulder into his chest as he pats your arms. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm really sorry. It got out of control. But, on the bright side…" 

You sniffle and pull your gaze up to his face. When you see the hollows of his cheeks you almost start crying again. "What?" you ask. 

"Well, now I'm cool enough to be your boyfriend." 

You push him backwards and crawl into his lap, knees on either side of him, weight against his abdomen. Your arms weave behind his head and you push your cheek into his likely too hard to be painless. He just sighs in relief. 

"Do you have something in your pocket?" you whisper, your voice stuffy. "Or was prison very hard?" 

He laughs and digs in between you to pull the little box that had been digging into you out of his pocket. "It's for you." 

"Don't want it." 

"I don't care if you want it. I missed our anniversary." 

"I missed you," you say, clinging to him for dear life.

You can't stop hugging him long enough to look. 

Eventually, he peels you off of the floor and you get dressed to go home with him. It takes a long time —you keep stopping to hug him between items of clothing, checking that he's real, that's he's him, even if he looks different now. He has to take the reins or you'll never make it home, pulling your coat over your shoulders and zipping it closed. 

When he's done, he takes your face into both hands. "You've been safe while I was gone? No trouble?" he asks. 

"Nobody messes with me. My boyfriend's in the FBI." 

"Well, we're taking a vacation." He blows out a big breath. "Jesus, I'm sorry, but I really need to kiss you right now." 

"Even though I look junky?" 

"You look perfect." He kisses you before he's finished, his praise smothered by your lips. He kisses you so hard you can't breathe by the end of it. "I'm sorry," he says, pressing a softer one under your eye. "Prison was actually pretty hard." You lean in, lingering nose to nose with him. "I couldn't sleep without you near me." 

"You're only saying that 'cos you saw me in my underwear." 

"Yeah, that's exactly why." He practically giggles. "No, I just love you."

You couldn't sleep without him either. You get home and sleep for days, tangled with each other in bedraggled sheets. 

[hurtspideyparker]

One night in the lab Peter finds an old prototype of the EDITH glasses and puts them on.

"Look Mr. Stark! I am Iron Man," he says with a deep voice.

"C'mon kid, that's the best impression you got?" Tony says before looking up.

He sees Peter with those rectangular frames and big grin. For a moment he thinks he's looking at old publicity photos of himself. A confident Tony Stark, tinted glasses and cocky smile, hair fluffed up and oozing manly charm.

Tony's easy smile drops a bit at the thought of Peter being anything like who he used to be.

"Oh sorry for talking over you Ms. Potts I just like the sound of my own voice more than hearing about the safety of our company. I'm too cool to apologize so I'll buy you a zoo for endangered species later honey," Peter tries again with the mocking deep voice.

Tony is quick to recover from the odd deja-vu feeling of seeing the teenager in the frame of a mirror, focusing back on his hologram.

"Yeah because I call the love of my life by her last name. And for your information it was an alpaca sanctuary, and she loved it." Tony corrects, pointing a pen at Peter in rebuke without looking up from his work.

"I chose to be respectful over accurate. Also I saw those alpaca photos and one of them was trying to chew on her skirt, she didn't look very impressed." Peter replies with a matter of fact press of his lips.

Tony glances back at the boy only to find himself unable to look away. He can't help but hear echoes of "I just wanted to be like you!" when he sees the boy wearing frames reminiscent of Tony's classic fashion sense.

Tony thinks about Howard, how he used to run laps to prove he was good enough, better than, worthy of being his son.

He was never enough for Howard.

"You're always better at remembering that kind of stuff than me anyways kid."

Peter is taken back by the earnest tone the older man suddenly possesses. His mouth opens but no words come out in reply, Tony looking at him as if he can see right through the spiderling.

"Now stop playing with my old crap and c'mere, we have some important decisions to make," Tony waves him over to look at something on his phone.

When Peter gets close enough he sees that it's a food delivery app, Tony's fingers hovering between an Indian and Thai restaurant.

Peter shoots him another grin, "I vote for samosas!"

Tony rolls his eyes but clicks on the Indian restaurant anyways.

Peter notices in the reflection of the phone that he still has the glasses on, reaching up to remove them before Tony puts a hand on his wrist to stop him.

"Keep em on, it's the first time you've ever looked cool enough to hang out with me. The tech in those is useless anyways, they're just a pair of sunglasses now."

Peter looks up at his mentor with such awe and admiration that Tony nearly melts like butter under the sun.

Tony may not do many things right when it comes to people, but he knows that even when he was still young and naive he'd known better than to ever look at Howard like that.

So maybe there's one thing he hasn't screwed up.

[licensedproldier]

highlights from the brennan hank interview (aka taking notes on things that i liked or didn't know)

HE STARTED ATTENDING COLLEGE WHEN HE WAS 14?????

immediate jump off topic from hank to ask him about d20 (this happened while fhjy was airing)

"and the greatest project of all, my wonderful family with my wife isabella roland"

bonding over their children

brennan and hank's son both corrected their father's bedtime stories 💀

many elaine lee shoutouts

"his dad met my mom and fell in love" "you did that" "we did that, parent-trapped them"

was pulled out of school in 4th grade for homeschooling because the bullying was so bad....

started a company when they (he and his brother) were fifteen?? called Bootleg Adventures

hank's little awed hiss of "what" to the above piece of information

GOT PART OWNERSHIP OF THE WAYFINDER COMPANY AT 15

"knowledge is something that, when you share it, there's just more. there's no scarcity"

hank staring off into space slightly looking like brennan just blew his mind (we're 11 minutes in)

"we were 14 year old philosophy majors, if you can imagine anything more normal than that"

brennan unable to resist doing fun voices for the people he talks about

he wouldve loved to work at wayfinder full time and said back then hey maybe ill become a famous internet comedian or something and that's how i can help camp. now he's got texts from the staff saying how a bunch of dimension 20 fans have joined and its been a huge boon for them that way 🥺

"it's funny when a really bad plan works. dont make that plan."

"every new community-- is this too sad? no its true" THOSE THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE

anyway "for every new community i start with the presupposition that someone is going to pick me up and put me in the trash can" 😭

hank sniping him through the duplex door with "[when you do that] you kind of imagine yourself to be the value you're delivering rather than yourself, or that your value is in what you deliver and not who you are" and brennan going 😐 "that's a great point man"

both of them turning to do pained smiles at the camera 😭

"i think the value is in who you are" "that's really sweet i appreciate that" "but i also love that you deliver"

brennan quoting mary oliver

im starting to feel a little called out guys

robert mckee "stories are not about their premises they're about their conclusions"

brennan also staring off into space slightly thinking about what hank said

the REAL college advice brennan is giving is reportedly "put an egg in your ramen" because thats how you stop your eyes from going "matte finish"

shoutout to vanessa's dumplings for keeping this man alive

"i am ozymandias nerd of nerds, gaze upon my banner and despair"

the moment he felt like something changed was walking into C2E2 and seeing that the biggest hanging banner in the convention hall was of fantasy high. or, as brennan put it, "my dumb face"

"my friends moved in with their partners, the apartment i had with them scattered to the wind, the woman i was dating dumped me after three weeks, and i won a bunch of money on Who Wants to Be a Millionare" "wh- what???"

he taught emily, murph, siobhan, and zac how to play dnd 🥺 and was running a home game for lou at the same time

got hired at um, actually because his name was getting around for being a big dork

zac stepped down from troopers and sam liked brennan's character from a previous casting call (tim curry eating pizza) so he brought him in

its very charming the detail with which brennan remembers these important moments in his life

became a full time cast member in the same week he started dating izzy! "hard to beat week gang!"

"they told us they were launching dropout and everyone had to make a show, which, if you're been trying to make a show your whole life, that's like saying 'bad news guys, there's 24 birthday cakes in the break room and everyone has to eat a whole birthday cake'."

brennan was making a document for a market pitch on an actual-play show when he was called into office and THEY pitched HIM the idea of an actual-play show

"i guess i have tumbled through life to end up here ready to do this"

truly like. one of the guys of all time.

"some of the things that didn't make sense about you make more sense now" hank talking indirectly about how amazing he found all the moving parts of mentopolis and now getting to hear about how long and how many time he's done storytelling it makes sense

"yeah its the one skill"

"i wanted to tell stories before i was anything else"

🎉anti-capitalist rant🎉

"people used to say 'is ucb a cult' and i'd say 'in a cult, somebody is making money'"

HIGH FIVE!!!

[bratbby333]

your beauty never scared me ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️ suguru geto

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ synopsis: after having your heart broken, your best friend helps you pick up the pieces ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ content + warnings: nsfw + mdni !! fem!reader x suguru, reader was in a toxic relationship + cheated on, fwb!suguru, angst, comfort, smut, unprotected sex ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ word count: 5k (+ a smau!! woo!!) ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ author notes: pink indicates reader's pov, orange is suguru's...inspired by Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green <3 also this was not beta read so pls excuse any typos xx i hope yall enjoy !!

Heartache has its own special way of ruining someone…

...stripping away every ounce of self-respect you work so hard to accumulate. That’s the trouble with letting people in. The outcome is almost always undecided, left in the hands of fate or whatever the hell you believe in. Perhaps it's a moment of weakness, letting a stranger entangle themselves with every fiber of your being, see every inch of your skin, explore the darker parts of your mind– even the things you hide from yourself. Putting trust in the wrong things, the wrong people. Never knowing someone’s true intentions until you discover them in bed, in your bed, with another. When something breaks inside of you, something cynical puts the pieces back together. You are a shell of who you once were. Blame it on soul-crushing character development.

It’s hard to watch the woman you love destroy herself…

...for the sake of holding on to someone who has only ill-intent in their heart. Perhaps it’s best to remove yourself. It’s agonizing, knowing you have the ability to save her from all this. You could relieve her of the heartache, free her from the suffering. Bring her nothing but joy. She has changed, evolved, and is nearly unrecognizable now. You watch as he withers her down into nothing. That man broke her, leaving her to pick up the pieces. And the woman you see now isn’t the same one you knew all those years ago.

The cold air of December flurries around outside as your chest erupts in warmth at the sight of her name illuminating your lock screen. She asks to see you, and you’d be a fool to decline. As she’s sat before you, you take in every part of her that you missed. But she’s different now. Dull eyes, sloping shoulders, her cheekbones are sunken in as her clothes hang from her figure like it's two sizes too big. But it isn’t, you remember the day she bought that t-shirt. The soul that normally inhabits her body has been replaced with something…unrecognizable. You know it’s her, but your mind tells you otherwise. The way her voice lilts from her lips, how chillingly different she sounds while delivering the news, it’s heartbreaking. 

She informs you she won’t be around much, mentioning that it will take time for her to heal from this. You pretend to be supportive of the distance she wants to place between herself and her loved ones, even though it absolutely crushes you. 

There’s something peaceful about loneliness…

…only relying on yourself for company. It can be draining of course. With the few friends you do have, you make the most of it. It’s a serene feeling, private even. People perceive you however they please, but only a few trusted individuals know your ins and outs. It's refreshing. 

God forbid you have to cater to someone else, especially when dating. It's hard enough having to take care of yourself. You make sure your friends know they’re loved and appreciated, of course, but the idea of inviting another person into your life; someone who demands your time and attention in order for it to work out? No thank you. It’s backfired for you many times before, you aren’t willing to go through it again. Your friends have watched you heal from heartbreak after heartbreak, each one more damning than the last. No one blames you for your cynicism, it’s understandable. 

Plus, the emotional upkeep of a romantic relationship is exhausting. And the idea of meeting someone, falling for them, and it not working out in the end? Torturous. Why put yourself through all that?

“You just haven’t found the right one!” 

“They’ll come around when you least expect it!”

“You gotta put yourself back out there!” 

Blah, blah, blah. Not interested. There’s no room for hopeless romance in this ill-fated world. You’re not dealing with that pain anymore. Not if you can help it. 

The trouble with love is that it’s cruel…

…discriminatory, even. Picking and choosing who gets to rejoice in its bliss and simultaneously alienating the unfortunate souls who suffer in its unyielding grip. You attempt to find peace in the silence of her absence, telling yourself that she’s okay, but knowing all too well that her precious heart is still shackled to someone so undeserving. You hold on to the irregular check-in’s you get from her. You hope she’s healing, and you prepare yourself for the outcome; that when she finally returns, she will not be the same person she was. 

Betrayal has a pesky habit of sticking around…

…a lingering feeling that still eats away at you. The night you caught him in his infidelity, something deep within you broke. It wasn’t your heart, no, that would be too simple. It was your psyche, the core of your being. The day he left, a part of you left with him. The chemistry of your brain changed, your atomic makeup shifting toward nihilism. 

So you move through life differently now. Every positive outlook you once had now cast to the wayside, replaced with unyielding suspicion in attempts to keep your heart guarded from the outside world. Hope has finally run out, the idea that there’s good in everyone proven to be a goddamn lie. You shove your desire for love into a padded safe and hide it away on a forgotten shelf in your mind. Hell, you’d burn that obnoxious feeling if you could. Run it through a meat grinder, chuck it into a volcano, nuke it. Doesn’t matter. Anything to stop it from tearing you apart. It’s not like it’s done you any good. Besides, who would want someone as damaged as you?

Part of you feels guilty…

…for sitting idly by, knowing your dear friend was hurting so deeply. But there wasn’t much you could do. You grant her space, knowing she wasn’t given that same courtesy for four years of her life. You pray she returns soon, aware that she doesn’t do well on her own. Her own mind is acting like a prison, holding her hostage, forcing her to relive her pain day in and day out. But, god damn it, you can’t take it anymore. You have been without her for so long. So you reach out, demanding she spend time with you. Self-isolation can only get you so far. It had been months since you’d seen her last. And to your surprise, she agrees.

A spring evening, 65 degrees, the setting sun…

…a gentle breeze that laps at your warm skin as you sit cross-legged on a checkered blanket. The beautiful flowers of May decorate the ground in colorful clusters. The cicadas sing while the bees are busy buzzing around. It’s a strange feeling; coping with the fact that your life has reached rock-bottom, a total stand-still as you work to heal yourself, yet life continues to move, to grow, to thrive. It’s inspiring in a way. You are accompanied by Suguru. He managed to get you out of the house after weeks of rotting away inside, anchored down by the gut wrenching feeling of heartbreak.

Laughter echoes through the park as the two of you revel in the serenity. Life feels…good. Whole. Worth living. It’s been a while since it has felt this way. It shouldn't feel strange, but it does. Happiness has become a foreign concept to you.

Sitting before you is the woman you love…

…the color in her cheeks has returned, the fullness of her face present once more. After suffering through the many months of thunder and unrelenting downpour in her mind, she has bloomed once more. Finally. You couldn’t pull your attention away from her even if you wanted to, your body and mind drawn to her in the most spiritual way. Even though she’s deep in thought, working to take in her surroundings, her beauty is still very much evident. She isn’t even aware of the power she holds– utterly entrancing. You would do anything to live in this moment forever. You’d do anything for her. 

But in this moment…

…with a forgotten feeling of fulfillment creeping its way into your chest as the soft rays of the sun dance across your skin and the sounds of nature swirl through your ears, you realize something. Something so beautiful, yet so fucking terrifying. You love him. Suguru. Maybe it was just your heartache talking, connecting dots that had no business associating. 

You brush it off, hide it away, and chalk it up to just being in a vulnerable moment. Your heart had been torn from your body only a few months prior. Anger still rips through your chest when you think about it. Four years wasted on someone you had placed on the highest pedestal, far higher than you placed your family, your friends…yourself. You were blindsided. In an instant, everything you had come to love, the home you felt safe in, the person you thought you knew…ripped away. Like it was nothing at all. 

Suguru has done what he could to mend the wounds for you, knowing good and well that if you are left to your own devices you would spiral past the point of return. And as renewing as this spring evening is, you know you will never be the same again. 

But you can’t help but fixate on the way he makes you feel. And as hard as you try to push those feelings away, they continue to bubble up. What happens when it finally reaches its boiling point?

You’re only human. You have wants, needs, and desires…

…so who do you turn to for that release? Suguru, of course. Isn’t that what friends are for?

Some would say it’s an evil thing to do; to use someone for pleasure, your own personal gain. A part of you understands that, too. Sure, it may have started out that way, but it’s shifted. And that scares the shit out of you, how you find yourself searching for his validation, the sadness you feel when he leaves in the morning after a night full of fun. So why not tell yourself that you’re just doing what you need to do, rather than what you want to do. Ignoring the fact that deep down you really fucking love it. 

It’s not like you’re taking advantage of him and the bond you share…not really, anyway. The two of you are very close, having known each other for ten years. Side by side, maneuvering through a decade of emotional ups and downs; personal dilemmas, weird family dynamics, terrible relationships, fluctuating hormones and unexpected cast changes within your friend group. But the two of you have always stayed consistent, the main characters. Your personalities mesh well, constantly riffing off one another. Never ending laughter and smiles. He's seen you at your absolute worst and vice versa. The true definition of unconditional love. So why not get a little more from him? After all this time, it feels warranted, well-deserved, even. Ignoring what you feel for him, it just makes sense that this is how it should go down. Plus, if it was such a bad idea, why would he agree?

You would accept her…

…in any way she chooses to present herself to you. After years of watching her hurt, you finally have your friend back, and there isn’t anything you wouldn't do to make her happy. Especially with guilt that you still feel, knowing there was nothing you could have done that would’ve saved her from her suffering. So when she suggests the idea of being friends with benefits, you’d be insane to deny her that. Is it a bad idea? Perhaps. You refuse her offer? She slips away, seeking refuge in the arms of another, someone who could hurt her…Never again.

You crave her so deeply that this arrangement seems perfect. Even though you dread the morning after, not wanting to leave her side…jumping on every opportunity to see her, showering her in praise every time you’re nestled deep within her warmth– the way her eyes light up at your word makes you melt. Is it possible she feels the same way? The more you think about it, the less crazy the idea seems. Would she leave you in the dust if you told her the truth? You don’t want to risk losing her. Not if you can help it. But you can’t confess your underlying intentions. Even though a deep part of you hopes for more, it doesn’t even matter at this point. Hide it. You get to be with her in a way that you never have before, and that’s enough for you…right? 

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

It all transpired after one drunken night playing a confessional card game with your friend group. You were shit-faced and horny, and he wasn’t any better off. You’re honestly surprised his dick still worked that night, but god did it work. You didn’t expect it to go any further after that, assuming it was a one-off occasion. The two of you never really addressed what happened, either, didn’t take the time to have a real conversation about it. Just a quick “hey, do you wanna…” followed by an indifferent “yeah, why not?”, and that was that. Which is probably a good thing, because any more talking would have most likely resulted in your true feelings coming to the surface. But it happened, and is still happening, so who are you to complain? It’s perfect.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

Your friends and random on-lookers alike say you’re compatible, and yeah, they might be right, but fuck that. Why risk the friendship you cherish so deeply for a title? That's idiotic. It's borderline insanity. The minute you put a label on something it all comes crashing down. So, why ruin a good thing? 

Don’t overthink it. It’s nothing serious, and it never will be. You refuse to open yourself up to somebody else, someone new. No more getting hurt. You’ve let Suguru into your life in a more meaningful way than you have for anyone else. And that’s far enough.

Does he know every little thing about you? Sure. 

Does he care for your well-being? Yeah. 

Is he attentive, thoughtful, and supportive? Of course…it is Suguru after all. 

But so what? That's what friends are for. 

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

You and Suguru see each other frequently, at least three times a week, whether it’s just a normal hangout or…a hangout. You just get what you need and go; a good laugh, dinner and a movie, casual drinks, or a heaven-sent dick appointment. You both seem content, enjoying one another’s company and…bodies…and minds and souls. 

Fuck.

It’s hard to ignore your totally natural, human need for deeper intimacy. But you try to, and damn do you try hard. It would probably be best for you to stop hooking up with Suguru and just go back to how things were. 

You can’t go through this. Not again. You’ve already shifted the perfectly normal dynamic you once had into something deeper. Something…real. There’s no turning back now. So you continue to hide behind your ego, fighting off every demon known to man in hopes that this will all just go away. 

You’ve been somewhat successful in suppressing your feelings, molding them into something more manageable. You are best friends, with the addition of benefits. Simple. Nothing more, nothing less. You pretend to be ignorant of Suguru's awe-inspiring beauty. How his energy is absolutely addicting, the way his lingering touch burns your skin so beautifully. He makes you feel seen for everything you are and appreciates you for everything you’re not. That sentiment alone propels you through the unexplored cosmos, crossing the line between reality and nirvana as starlight dances across your skin.

Not to mention, when you two are actually fucking? It's like two parts of the same soul finally meeting after centuries of arduous searching. You don’t know where your body stops and his begins, entangled in the most profound way. 

God. You sound insane. This is no way to view a friend…your best friend, at that. Get it together. 

What would you even call this? Touch starved? No, he touches you plenty…and in all the right places, too. Is it desperation? Your insatiable need for love? Karmic punishment for all your failed relationships? The corny trope where you end up falling for your best friend? As much as you want to fight against the feelings you have for him, it’s too late. 

Whatever. Just play it off. You refuse to let your walls down. And you’d hate to give Suguru the satisfaction of being the one who commandeered heavy machinery and sent a wrecking ball toward your emotional fortress. 

If you don’t acknowledge your feelings they’ll just cease to exist, right? Yeah, that’s how it works. And it’s a super healthy coping mechanism, too. 

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

All this deep pondering and emotional soul searching has got you worked up. You decide to see if Suguru wants to come over. Not because you miss him, or anything. It’ll be nothing more than a casual hook up. Dick only, no feelings. 

You catch yourself giggling at his messages. Gross. You brush it off with a shake of your head, a violent wave of self awareness washing over you. 

I'm not going through this again. I refuse.

You read the messages over and over. Do you seem desperate? Do your texts carry the perfect amount of indifference? Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it’s just Suguru, anyway. He's stuck around this long, it would take a lot to scare him off, now.

The plan’s in motion, and you’re going to have a good time tonight. You feel your heart rate spike at the thought of seeing him. That's a totally normal reaction for someone who has no feelings involved, right? Just friends…right? 

Suguru chuckles as he reads your response. Excitement floods through his body in anticipation. Is it finally time to confess? His own eagerness catches him off-guard. He can’t. It’s too soon. He takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. Keep it together.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

It’s been so long since the feeling of joy has drifted between these barren walls. You take a swig of your drink, exhaling happily through your nose as the sweet juice dances with the sting of the liquor, warming your chest as you swallow. Leaning back on the couch with one leg kicked up on the coffee table, you absentmindedly swirl your glass as you gaze at Suguru.

“I’m really happy to see that you’re doin’ better,” he muses, taking a sip before setting his cup down. You offer him a small nod paired with a gentle smile, looking back at the drink nestled between your fingers; the ice that’s creating condensation on the outside, the way the sun seeps between the half-open curtains in your living room, the cooing of birds just beyond your window panes. Quite frankly, you’re trying your hardest to focus on anything but him. Ignoring the thrum of your heart every time you look into his eyes, pretending the smooth cadence of his voice doesn’t make your body tremble. 

Say you do confess? What then? Is that really something you want, anyway? Or is it just nice to lust after someone? No, it’s not that. You really do love him. You haven’t even considered the possibility of him reciprocating these feelings, and odds are if he does, you’ll just run for the hills, not willing to open your heart up again. Your last relationship destroyed you. There’s no way you’ll allow someone to fill that void. Not with the possibility that it’ll all be a farce. 

After a moment of silence, you finally speak up. “Me, too. And it’s all thanks to you, Sugu.” You finally meet his gaze, and it’s as if his eyes are attempting to pierce through you with how intently he’s looking at you. His expression quirks as if to ask what you mean. You decide to test the waters a bit. Fuck it.

“You…you’ve made me feel…whole again,” your words come out a bit choppy and drawn out, still battling with your decision to come clean. Your eyes dart around his face before looking away once more. You fiddle with your fingers, unsure of if you want to elaborate. Even if you stop here, it’s okay. That’s a totally normal thing to say to a friend who helped you in your time of need.

Your head snaps toward him at the sound of your name. More is said, but you focus on the way he addresses you. He says it so softly, so gently, like the very syllables of your title grace his tongue as they sway from in between his vocal cords. For four years, your name was used against you, weaponized with anger and hatred. But his words are relayed to you with nothing but love behind them. 

Your ears are ringing as you stare at him blankly. You shake your head in hopes to clear the thoughts that are clouding it. “Wait…wha? What did you just say? The last part?”

“I said, it’s because I love you,” he smiles as he watches your face flush. Time slows as your heart rate speeds up. You brows furrow a bit, trying to piece together what the hell is going on.  A million thoughts spin through your head as you stare at him. “You…love…me? Like, in a ‘best friends’ kinda way, right?” You’re shocked as he shakes his head. “No. I love you, and I have for a while. In a more than friends kinda way,” he laughs a bit before leaning forward, reaching for your hand. “You love me, too. Don’t you?” 

“I-” your words get caught in your throat as his fingers rub against the back of your hand. As calm and collected as Suguru seems on the outside, he is spiraling on the inside. He isn’t sure where this newfound confidence is coming from, but he decides to roll with it. His heart thrums in his chest as he anxiously awaits your response. He has reached his tipping point, wanting nothing more than to finally be able to call you his.

You look down, staring at the place where the two of you meet, the feeling of electricity coursing through your body. A chill runs down your spine before you look back at him. “I-I do. I love you.” 

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

You’re laying on your back, your hair fanned out across the bed. Your arms are wrapped tight around his neck as he gently thrusts into you with slow, deep ruts of his hips. His head is tucked into the crook of your neck, his warm breath brushing across your sensitive skin. 

He leans back, looking down at you with a sweet smile, “You are so beautiful.” His eyes run up and down your body, taking in every dip and curve of your figure, before fixating on where the two of you meet. His lips part as he watches himself disappear inside of you, a deep moan breaking through his chest at the sight of your sweet juices coating his length. He rubs intricate circles into your clit, loving the way you sound as your body writhes under his touch.

Tears begin to pool behind your eyes as you gaze up at him, entranced by the way he manages to stimulate every sense in your body. This is what love truly feels like, bestowed upon you by a man who wants nothing more than to fulfill every facet of your life.

He presses his forehead against yours as he continues to pump into you, his movements influenced by nothing more than pure adoration.

The sun bounces off your features, illuminating your face in such an ethereal way. His breath catches in his throat as he watches the way the light makes your eyes glow. You are angelic in every sense of the word. Someone too pure for this realm, unfathomably delicate; sent to this world to be worshiped and protected.

“I love you. So much,” he groans. Every ounce of devotion he has for you is being pumped into your body with every plunge. It’s overwhelming for him. He's nearly bursting at the seams as he makes love to you, moving his hips so tantalizingly slow, but wanting to thrust into you with fervor, to pound the message into you that you are deserving of all love in the world, and that he will be the one to give it to you. But he takes his time, wanting nothing more than to savor you. 

Small whimpers break through your throat. “I…ahh!– I love you, S-Suguru,” you moan, whining as his head brushes into your sweet spot, making your back arch off the bed as your chest presses into his. The pleasure raking through you is immeasurable, every neuron in your brain firing off at once. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every single part of him.

He cups the sides of your cheeks, brushing away your tears before placing two soft kisses over each eye. “Why’re you cryin’, my love?” he coos, concern evident on his face as he rubs his thumbs against your face. His hips pause as his eyes dart between yours. 

“Just…’m just so happy,” you whisper, scrunching your nose up with a small sniffle before placing a kiss on his lips. He smiles deeply before returning to his original pace.

“You deserve it...just wanna make you feel good, baby,” his hips press him into the deepest parts of you, rubbing against your sweet, gushing walls, but his pace remains deliberate. “You deserve all the pleasure in the world,” his teeth grit ever so slightly as he feels you clench down on him. “F-fuck, baby… fuck. You are just... incredible,” he groans, angling his hips to keep brushing against your g spot.

Even though you’ve had each other many times before, no other instance compares to the way you feel right now. Your body brimming with love, fulfillment…with him. His touch makes you feel reborn, like no one has ever hurt you before. His hands glide across your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, his unyielding passion evident in the way he clings to you, and you to him.

“Sugu…” you gasp as he bottoms out once more. Short pants leave your lips as you feel the tightness in your stomach intensify. “P-please, keep goin’...I’m…gonna cum,” you mewl. His hands reach underneath your body, palming each asscheek as he lifts your lower half off the bed. The new angle makes your eyes roll as stars begin to dance around your head. “Me too…y’feel so fuckin’ good.” The fiction of his pelvis against your clit shoots ripples of pleasure through you. Your nails drag down his back in an attempt to ground yourself, but to no avail. This feels otherworldly. His pace picks up a bit, pushing you to unravel, your body succumbing to bliss. The warmth that engulfs his lengths makes him reach his peak right after you, his hips stuttering as he works you both through your orgasms.

He props himself up on his forearms, making a conscious effort to not collapse on you and crush you with his body weight, though you would most definitely welcome it. He watches as your chest rises and falls, every soft pant that leaves your lips like music to his yearning ears. He can’t bring himself to pull out, loving the way your walls are still spasming around him. You stare into his eyes for a moment, running your fingers down his spine. A gentle moment of silence settles between to two of you. No words are spoken, but they don't need to be. 

He begins to get up, but your legs lock around his waist immediately, resheathing him inside of you. “Baby–”, he begins to object, but your arms wrap around his shoulders once more, pulling him down as you kiss the spot below his ear, “Jus’ a few more minutes. Love having you like this.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest as he smiles into the crook of your neck. “You keep this up and we might just have to go again.”

And you do. For hours and hours, attempting to make up for all the years wasted. Your two souls engaging in the most mesmerizing dance. He is determined to replace all the heartache you feel with pleasure. And he does. You feel nothing but him. And he can’t focus on anything other than you. Rolling around together until the golden hue of the setting sun shifts into a light pink as it rises above the horizon. But it feels like no time has passed at all. 

Suguru draws soft circles into your skin, holding you tight against his sweat-glistened chest. Your body trembles from the copious amount of pleasure coursing through you. A gentle peck is placed on the top of your head before he looks toward the ceiling. A sense of contentment washes over him, dancing with the soft pulse of his many orgasms still reverberating through his body. After years of waiting, you are finally his, and he is determined to grant you your well-deserved peace.

Dawning a robe, you sit on your balcony, listening to the birds sing you their habitual 'good morning'. The door slides open behind you, and Suguru takes a seat, presenting you with a cup of tea. A quiet thank you leaves your lips as the two of you take in the scenery before you. 

“We should probably get some sleep now, huh?” You ask, turning to him as you take a sip, smiling at the fact that he knows exactly how you take your tea. But, of course he does. It’s Suguru. 

He grins, “No…I don’t want to leave this moment behind just yet.” You blush, reaching your hand out to grasp his. 

“Me neither.”

In his eyes, you are precious, the most important person in his life. The deep-rooted fear of not being worthy of love is disproven in the form of Suguru’s undying loyalty to you. He has waited years to be with you, and he would have waited years more. And as the two of you sit together, with your fingers intertwined and heartbeats in sync, you know there is nowhere else you want to be…no one else you want to be with. An unfamiliar feeling of safety creeps into your chest. You’re in good hands now.

Maybe opening yourself back up to love wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

author notes: this fic is incredibly self-serving...but i really needed this. i just want a pretty boy named suguru to save me from the heartache i feel rn ugh

my reqs are closed at the moment, but thirsts and chats are always welcome !!

alsoooo !! i just wanted to send out a big big thank you for 700 followers...im literally in shock i cannot believe it. im spinning around my room rn just thinking abt it. yall are amazing n i appreciate every single one of you 🫶🏼

tag list: @anxious-chick @call-memissbrightside @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @sadmonke

likes, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated !!

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[miikapie]

"Its not gonna fit!" with Geto, Choso, Toji and Gojo! (NSFW)

Just posting this because ive been thinking about writing it for weeks. Enjoy this tiny drabble while I stress over college!

Cw:.. fem!reader x various jjk men, they're mean :(( (toji, gojo too kinda..), choso being too sweet, cunilingus (choso), bad grammar ofcourse, SEX SMASHING INTERCOURSE BABY MAKING FUCKING MAKING LOVE i hope you get the point.

/MDNI//NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!

Gojo is so mean to you. If you say absolutely anything related to his size, or not being able to accommodate to his girth, hes seizing the opportunity to brag and belittle you while doing so.

"Awh baby.. it can't fit? hmm? Is my cock too big? Its okay, cutie, I know I know.. Maybe we just need to pay attention to your little clit, and we'll stretch you out too yeah? Im gonna make sure your little cunt remembers every single one of my veins no matter how long it takes to get in aallllll the way."

Geto (sighs dreamily) I LOVE THIS MAN. Totally much nicer than Gojo, but unintentionally mind-breaks you. His voice btw is so sexy can you imagine how husky it is duirng the deed??? drooling rn.

"Oh, what was that? It wont fit, hm? Thats okay, love. We'll find our way around it. Just gotta stretch you out some more so i can hit that spot you love so much, mhm? Right there isnt it? Yeah, I can tell with the way you're tightening around me. Or what about this? Maybe I'll touch your clit a little more. God... I love seeing you like this. Thats a good girl.. lay down juuust like that. You dont need to think for yourself anymore when I've got you."

Toji is SO mean, and incredibly cocky. Despite knowing damn well he's way too big to bottom out immediately in you, he takes this opportunity be snarky fun of you while destroying your insides.

" 's too big? We'll make it fit, doll. Stop moving like that, you know its just gonna hurt more. Give it a few minutes and you'll be crying like a bitch in heat. Fine. I'll be nice i guess, but im still going all the way in. 's not my fault your pussy's too damn tight. Fuck.. so good.. Yeah, see? Told you you could take it, wipe those tears 'fa me and keep your legs up here on my shoulders, yeah?"

Nanami... ah. He tries so so hard to be nice to you, by slowly bullying his way in your walls, but no matter how many times you do the deed it seems like you can never keep up with his size

"Too much, honey? Its okay, sweetheart. Look, I'll put a pillow just under your back here.. and it'll make you feel much better. Whats that? Feels nicer now? Ill take it slow as always honey, just take your deep breaths... God.. you're always so tight... It feels nice when I touch you right here doesn't it?..Feels deeper? Yes, love, thats the pillow under your back helping you relax. We're gonna have to use that trick next time wont we? Thats it, sweet thing, see? Im almost bottomed out and you haven't even noticed at all."

Choso is too much of a sensitive lover to even think about ever possibly pushing your boundaries. If he ever heard you say anything along the lines of 'too big' he'd pull out immediately and instead eat you out as an apology. (even though you've told him its just something you said in the heat of the moment) (he still leaves you shaking tho.)

[glassrowboat]

Morning After

Authors note: This includes a variety of my own headcanons on these characters. The reader is gender neutral. This includes only the male harbingers, but I am willing to write one for the chicks too ^^

Capitano.

-The instant you stirred in your sleep, just the slightest twitch, and you were pinned to the mattress with a looming figure above you. His black hair tickled your skin, swaying back and forth from the sudden movement, but that was barely a concern when this man who had been so sweet with you last night was suddenly acting like a switch that flipped off in his brain. All you could tell was one discernable thing after the sudden surprise: there was no escape if he didn't want there to be.

-”Capitano?” You called out, voice hesitant and barely a whisper as fear choked back the ability to speak confidently.

-Immediately the tense nature that had over taken his form fell, shoulders no longer strung together as that soldier who had been pinning you down held you close and started apologizing for startling you.

-He didn't have to say it, he didn't want to, bit for a moment there the Captain had mistaken you for someone that crept into his chambers with ill intent. He's a soldier. War is what he's known for. This caution just comes with the territory.

-To make up for his own actions he makes sure you're well fed, given a hearty breakfast (one a little too big for you to fully eat but he doesn't mind giving you some Tupperware to take it home in) and tea.

-It's just he's a terrible conversationalist, barely talking as he just nods along to whatever you say, making you carry the flow the entire morning as he adds in an occasion “yes, interesting, or no.”

-At least he's handsome under that helmet.

Childe.

-Fell off the bed the moment he saw you, a shout falling from his lips from the surprise of the fall and well, this naked person in his bed.

-Why he didn't expect you to wake up and throw a pillow at his head for being so darn loud when you have a hangover? Well, only Celestia knows. Though he didn't bother to block it, simply accepted getting hit as it didn't even knock him back.. well that is if he didn't play along and dramatically fell down onto the floor.

-”Are you always such a drama queen?”

-”A guy can't play along with a joke?”

-Very sweet, but a little bit annoying as he asks about you in as many questions he can think of. What's your favorite color? What's your job?

-Admittedly Childe has never had a one night stand before so he doesn't know what to do in this position so when you give him a sweet smile and tell him to just to let you get dressed for now he goes to get a stray shirt for you.

-Definitely wants to see you again, and not just in the bedroom.

-”So where do you come from?”

-”Give me five minutes for fucks sake.”

Dottore.

-First off, what? He's aware each harbinger has their own little dedicated fan club, even him…for some reason. Yet for him to willingly bring someone, possibly one of them, to his bed? People aren't allowed in his personal quarters. Hell, he barely uses it himself, opting to sleep on that one couch in the laboratory. So why the switch in his normal behavioral patterns?

-(I personally see Dottore as a virgin so for this dweeb to lose it this way-)

-Admittedly, he's on edge from trying to remember what happened, the haze of sleep, and the shock of seeing someone he apparently trusted enough to bring to bed. It only made sense he was scowling at this sleeping body. It wouldn't be easy enough to just call it a new test subject, use the sheets as restraints to drag this stranger down to his lab and shove them in a cell but..

-Maybe not this time.

-Instead he gets up and throws on some clothes as quickly as possible, making sure to slot his mask in place despite the fact you have very obviously already seen what lies underneath. That and more.

-It has proven more useful than not to use that thing to hide his expressions.

- Depending on if he drank last night and that's what had him indulging in the warmth of another person's body, Dottore would have one of his clones stand by until you wake up. They can deal with the situation from there and take you home while he gets some caffeine in his body. An easy way to rid of a hangover and forget his newfound company.

-If it was a completely sober decision, Dottore no longer has the excuse that he simply got ahead of himself from the drink and would therefore be hostile in response. Unable to put up with this one bit, he would be telling his bed partner to get dressed and head home already so he can get back to work instead of watching over pointless little you.

-Don't try and say anything about possibly being emotionally attached, it would only anger him. Boy is not used to being open or vulnerable with anyone and you suddenly appearing and having held him so close last night would only set him off in the worst of ways.

Pantalone.

-First thing this man notices is he's just not as comfy as usual, somehow this mattress isn't right, he isn't sinking into the soft plush he spent thousands on. Not even his haze of grogginess was enough to make tossing and turning twist his body into comfort. (Goldilocks having motherfucker). So with a steady hand he reaches out to find his glasses on the nightstand, silver chains rattling on the surface as he pulls them close.

-A one night stand isn't an uncommon thing to the regrator, for him it's happened a small handful of times before but it's never something he's typically the better for in the morning. A man of his position caught slinking into a woman's bedroom as they drunkenly grope at eachother was far from a good look. Not to mention you never knew if the individual would keep their mouth shut.

-That has been a problem with one particular individual in the past that has henceforth been ‘dealt with.’

-But the person laying besides him was still conked out and wrapped in a good majority of the blankets the bedding had to offer. Well, a bit of a thief aren't they? Pantalone almost wanted to laugh but kept his mouth sealed shut, already knowing it's best not to wake you.

-Slowly he got up and out of the bed, trying to keep it from creaking too loudy, to put on last night's clothes. He'll take a shower and get changed into something clean later.

-With one last peak towards the stranger he spent the night with Pantalone slipped out of the front door.

Pierro.

-He's confused.

-Now he understands what happened, the sight of you naked and curled up into him is more than enough to make that clear; though your underwear basically on his favorite pillow definitely would have gotten the point across either way. But, like, him? You who look so much younger, livelier compared to what Pierro sees in the mirror every day after five hundred years haunting him.

-Maybe that joke the second made about people liking ‘older folks’ was based on reality.

-Would greedily allow himself to hold you in his arms for a time. It started with him first saying one minute, that's all he'd allow himself. Then that turned into five, then ten, then twenty. Eventually he would barely wish to nudge you awake even though he knows better.

-Don't go getting attached when there's so much left to do.

-When he finally did wake you up he did his best to make sure you wouldn't get startled, softly calling out the name he was given last night. It's just a shame you do, startling as your hand nearly wacked his face from sheer shock. (Though who can blame you? It's not everyday you blearliy open your eyes, vision still blurry as you take in a man with white hair and stars in his- wait is that the fucking Pierro? Oh fuck).

-The type to help you find your clothes and call for a cab so he knows you get home safely.

-Now all that's left is trying to figure out how to hide the hickey you planted on him.

Scaramouche.

-Let's be real here, you're not making it to the morning.

-He had no clue why he was allowing this, allowing a humans lips to fall to his own with such fevered need. In any other situation he'd be pushing them off, telling this person they're a useless worm that shouldn't ever have walked these lands if all they was going to do was use their life to paw at him. Oh but to worshipped was a delight.

-Kisses pressed to the wooden skin of his puppet body like small prayers to the God he will one day be. This is what humans are made for, aren't they? To give their all to a greater being. So readily Scaramouche let himself be tugged along as you pulled him to wherever you pleased, ready to lavish in the attention he so rarely got.

-A human isn't a threat after all.

-Yet when you tugged on his short, pulling them down just low enough for your mouth to eagerly await something filling it, everything took a turn for the worst.

-”Wait a minute, you don't have genitals?”

-And in a heartbeat you were struck with a bolt of lightning that had you dead on the spot.

[feeder86]

Taste

Mike could remember how his breath caught in his throat when he saw Bruno for the first time. Having always been so slim and athletic himself, it was as if all of the blood in his entire body rushed down into his groin and he felt lightheaded; his heart racing with lust for the man in front of him. Bruno was the epitome of Mike’s dream man: taller than everyone else in the bar, large and very, very fat. He was flaunting his chubby physique with pants that were clearly too small; his butt crack on show, as well as the lower half of his gut that pushed out over his belt. There was a buzz around him at the bar. It was rare that a man so large came in here and it was obvious, from the twitching hands of the bear-loving guys around them, that there were many who wanted to touch his remarkably overfed body.

Mike stood behind him at the bar, waiting to be served, feeling like he was invisible in the wide man’s shadow. Even the scent of him, slightly sweaty in the humid environment, was turning Mike on; his large love handles shimmering gently as the bodies crowded around. Finally, with a space opening up at the crowded bar, Mike squeezed himself next to the big man, waiting to be served as well. He looked to his side and smiled shyly, without speaking. Even then, the eye contact, however brief, made Mike’s hardness flex in a way that made him hope he wouldn’t be served too quickly in order to allow the bulge in his crotch to calm down.

“Mine’s a beer,” the big man stated confidently to Mike.

“Sorry?” Mike spluttered back, surprised that he had been spoken to.

“My drink. I’ll have a beer,” he repeated expectantly.

“Oh… I wasn’t…” Mike mumbled, full of embarrassment. “I guess I…”

“Geez, relax, would you! I’m just joking,” Bruno chuckled, raising hand and finally ordering his own beer. “And what would you like?” he offered Mike, as if by way of an apology for causing Mike to get in such a fluster.

Mike accepted the offer and found himself following the heavy man out of the bar queue moments later. It seemed as if the big guy had come here alone, leaning against a small, high table where he could view the entirity of the bar. “Are you a chaser?” he asked Mike in his usual plain manner.

Wishing that he could act cooler, Mike mumbled once again, unsure how best to answer. “I’m not sure,” he lied. “I guess I could be.”

“You’re cute,” Bruno smiled, after formally introducing himself. “Do you want to touch my belly? Most guys in here seem to want to.”

With a free pass to feat his eyes upon Bruno’s large gut, Mike wasted no time in admiring it’s size and shape. He checked with the big man one last time, then let his electrically charged fingertips spread over the fleshy skin. Pure heaven.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Bruno nodded in approval. “Gentle. Sensual. I bet you’re good at giving a massage.”

“I’d be happy to work on your whole body if you like,” Mike shot back, unsure where his sudden boldness had come from, and immediately feeling a little embarrassed by it.

“Maybe,” Bruno chuckled. “If you play your cards right tonight,” he added, leaning into the table and seemingly about to take some time to really invest in finding out a lot more about his new admirer.

It was strange to think back on how shy Mike had been that night. Although Bruno still never failed to make him feel flustered and aroused, he liked to think, nine months later, that he at least managed to keep a cooler head around him. Being in a relationship with someone that he found so attractive should not have been as much of a challenge as it had seemed to be. His parents and friends had taken one look at Bruno and allowed their sizeist prejudices to rise to the surface. Mike had heard no end of slanderous things about Bruno that had been said to him: that he was lazy and greedy, selfish and unambitious. It was all based entirely upon his weight, and Mike knew it. They seemed to hate how much Bruno felt comfortable in his own skin. It was as if they were offended by it; believing that Bruno should feel ashamed and insecure, just like every other 400lb man of his stature. How dare he simply not care about being so fat?

There were sighs whenever Bruno went to grab Mike’s hand and show him affection in front of others. Perhaps it was the way that Bruno dressed that most irritated people and made them feel embarrassed in his company. He enjoyed his clothes being overly fitted and figure-hugging. For him, a t-shirt shirt should be over-long and tucked into his tight shorts, displaying the full arch of his gigantic gut, or else it should be too short, allowing the fat of his underbelly to show through and catch the breeze as he walked about. However, it was also his grotesque appetite that Mike knew his dad in particular found especially repulsive. He wasn’t wrong in saying that Bruno was always eating something or searching in the cupboards for snacks. He found it cheeky and rude how Bruno would help himself in their kitchen, and when he once upturned the milk bottle to chug it straght from the refrigerator, Mike’s dad had raised his voice in a way that Mike hadn’t heard since he was small.

Mike’s friends and family didn’t understand though. They didn’t realise how far Bruno had come to be in the sort of shape he was in now; how he’d always wanted to be a big man. Back when he’d started college, Bruno had been incredibly slim, and even lanky, given his great height. He’d documented his body well by taking lots of pictures during those early days and continued to do so as he began pushing his appetite to the extreme. His body had responded in just the way Bruno had wanted, as a doughy belly began to form on his slim frame. 

Mike felt an arousal he’d never experienced before as Bruno guided him through all of the pictures of him over the years: the time when he’d started to get love handles, the first signs of his double chin beginning to show. Even from quite early on, his butt had started taking on a fair amount of fat. Bruno had said this had been down to the way he’d tried to limit his exercise so much and make those calories as effective as possible when fattening his body. It had taken time; especially at Bruno’s height. Even when he’d left college, his fat stomach had still been faily easy to conceal under baggy clothes. It was only once he’d started working and had his own place that Bruno’s overeating and weight gain really started to turn to very obvious obesity. Bruno recalled with glee the time when his weight started impacting his everyday life: when he’d become too heavy for store-bought clothes, the stairs becoming more intense to walk up. He’d embraced each one of these changes, accepting the fact that his lovers would now purely be confined to those who enjoyed his fatter body. He’d taken on several feeders, of all shapes and sizes, but he’d never committed to any of these other guys in the way that he had to Mike. 

Sometimes Mike would pick up the guy’s empty clothes off the floor and just admire the sheer size of them, hardly comprehending how lucky he was to have such an oversized and greedy boyfriend. Twenty to thirty pounds a year, that was Bruno’s steady gain rate, realised by maximising his opportunities to overeat and consume as often as possible. As Bruno himself had said, fattening his skinny college body had been a lot simpler than pushing the fat on now he was well over four hundred.

Mike often wondered what it was that Bruno saw in him. Whenever they were out at some sort of bear event, it was obvious how much attention the big man could command. Mike had become accustomed to the grumpy stares of jealousy as he held his enormous boyfriend’s hand. Bruno claimed to like how constantly aroused Mike was for him. He could submit and take a pounding, yet also take the reins and feed Bruno far beyond his daily calorie goals. Not that such a mission was often required. Bruno was, if nothing else, highly motivated to overeat, and always so very self-sufficient. Despite the many hours Mike had spent feeding Bruno in the past, he knew that the big man would most likely be just as big, even if he was still single. Everything to him was so erotic, from the new stretch marks and shape, to the retirement of old clothes and the reactions of those who had not seen Bruno in some time. Every last little chance encounter was a reason for the guy to get aroused, and that horniness was more than infectious.

With Bruno’s birthday approaching, Mike began to feel a little anxious about what to do for it. Last year, they had only been dating a couple of months, and so he hadn’t gone too overboard. However, four months ago, for his own birthday, Bruno had arranged an entire weekend away to visit Mike’s hometown; the one that his family had left when he was just eleven. It was incredibly sweet and thoughtful, not to mention remarkably satisfying to show off the town he knew so well to the man that he had fallen so helplessly in love with.

Mike thought about buying an enormous cake, or an entire banquet of food to surprise Bruno with on the big day. However, when considering  how much Bruno ate in a normal day anyway, he didn’t really feel that he could make it all that special. Bruno’s hobbies weren’t any help either. There weren’t any special video games coming out anytime soon and the hot summer sun was zapping the large chub’s energy levels daily.

“What would you like to do for your birthday?” Mike finally asked, having exhausted his entire creative reserves. However, Bruno dutifully denied needing any sort of fuss, claiming that birthdays were nothing special for him.

Mike persisted. With only a couple of days remaining, he was feeling desperate for an idea to delight his lover for his birthday. “I guess maybe there is one thing I might like,” Bruno began cautiously, as if he had been thinking of the idea for some time.

Breathing a sigh of relief. Mike nodded enthusiastically, wanting to hear Bruno’s thoughts.

“Well, maybe we could try a little role reversal that night?” he asked tentatively.

Mike furrowed his eyebrows. “Role reversal?” he asked. He already thought they did that, having quite an active, versatile sex life.

“I mean… maybe I could feed you for a change? Just for one night,” Bruno added hastily, trying to express the idea in baby steps. “I used to be quite good at it, back in the days when I played around with lots of different feeders and gainers. They all said I was good at it.”

Mike mumbled awkwardly. Despite the length of time he’d been with Bruno, he’d never anticipated the man making a request like this. “I thought you loved my body how it is?” he asked, knowing how hard Mike worked at the gym classes he attended.

“Oh, I do!” Bruno nodded emphatically. “I love all body types. It’s just a one-night kinky idea I had.” He shrugged, then laughed at how ridiculous this scenario was. “It’s not about changing you, and if it’s not your thing, it’s fine. I’ll think of something else.”

Mike considered for a moment. “No, wait…” he mumbled; his brain trying to catch up. “It’s fine,” he shrugged. “It’s for your birthday,” he nodded, feeling that a little sacrifice like this would help show Bruno how important he was to him. “Let’s… let’s do this.”

The bus-worker strikes had completely messed up Mike’s day as he arrived home late on Bruno’s birthday a couple of days later. It was nearly half seven already and he’d been out of the house for almost thirteen hours. He apologised profusely, but Bruno already knew how much chaos the strikes were causing on the city, having seen it on the news. He could see the tiredness in Mike’s eyes and offered to forego his birthday treat in order to let Mike head to bed. However, Mike was having none of it. He tried to rally himself, heading for a shower and coming back in, feeling more refreshed. They ate a normal meal and chatted about much of the same things as they usually did.

“Come sit down,” Bruno smiled, patting his extra large, personal chair in front of the TV; a wicked, horny grin plastered across his face.

Mike did as he was told. He never sat in Bruno’s chair and it felt strange to him now; so roomy and worn-in. He stood briefly once again as a hugely fat Bruno kneeled on the floor in front of him and pulled down his pants so that he could play with him more effectively. Right away, the fat man’s expert tongue set to work, making Mke take huge long sighs of pleasure. He put his hand on Bruno’s head for a moment to stop him. “Honey, it’s your birthday. I should be doing this to you,” he worried.

Bruno shushed him and set back to work, making Mike’s legs twitch as he came close to cimaxing at least a couple of times. Then, just like that, Mike suddenly felt a long, chocolate cream cake getting pushed between his parted lips. He chuckled, having been caught off guard completely. He’d almost forgotten about this part of their horny evening. Where had his kinky boyfriend even hidden those cakes? Still, he chewed and swallowed, having accepted this would be exactly the sort of thing he would be getting up to that night.

Bruno’s demeanor was entirely different. His hands caressed and stroked Mike’s body like he was a precious, god-like being; his large, chubby hands stroking his flat stomach and fondling Mike to keep his hardness as he pushed in another cream cake, then another. Yet, still Bruno was edging him, making him think his time had arrived, then pulling it away.

Mike had never felt such a rush of different emotions. At one point, he would feel dominant and pampered, being hand fed and pleasured by his lover. But then, the next, Bruno would stop everything and chuckle at all the food smeared around his face, declaring him to be a ‘greedy boy’, before resuming as before. 

Mike’s stomach was getting tight and yet he still hadn’t climaxed. The shape of it was distended as Bruno rubbed his giant hand over it with a wicked smirk plastered across his face. Mike stared at his boyfriend’s chubby hands as they gathered the fattening foods and felt as those wide, sausage-like fingers he had long admired, now stuffing it all into his open mouth.

“You’re such a good little piggy!” Bruno teased him as it was clear just how full and aroused Mike was at that moment; those expert hands now whipping his erection up into a dangerous frenzy that could tip him over the edge. Mike stared down at his body, having never seen himself so bloated, nor felt his stomach quite so full. Then, that was it, the moment that Bruno chose to let him climax, just as his eyes settled on the little swollen midsection that was now his stomach. The feeling was intense; more so than Mike had ever encountered before and he let out an embarrassing multi-toned moan that only highlighted just how caught out he had been by the whole experience. He felt utterly spent and withered like a dead flower, being taken to bed by his enormous lover.

The next morning was much the same as any other. Bruno thanked Mike for indulging his kink to let him feed him, and chuckled as he apologised for how bloated and full Mike felt, right up until dinner time that day. But Bruno hadn’t stopped lamenting about how much he had enjoyed it and how well Mike had eaten. He recreated the moan Mike made when he climaxed as if it was the sexiest sound he had ever heard, eating more than usual, as Bruno tended to do when he was aroused.

Perhaps it was the way that Bruno recounted that night over and over that made sure the experience never left Mike’s mind, but now, even the thought of it was making Mike feel horny. His memory was crystal clear as the image of his bloated stomach came back to him each and every time he ate.

“I see you guys are still very happy,” commented Danny, one of Bruno’s gainer friends that Mike had been introduced to when they first started going out.

“He’s wonderful!” Bruno gushed, rolling his big arm over Mike’s shoulders. “I’ve never been this happy with anyone before.”

Mike blushed and smiled, always enjoying how open Bruno was about his affection for him. “Thanks,” he mumbled shyly.

“Mike also had his first, er…” Bruno began cheekily, looking across to Mike as if to gauge whether he should share these sorts of intimate details. “He had his first feed the other week,” he finally finished.

“Seriously?” Danny laughed aloud, his jaw dropping in surprise. One look at Mike’s athletic form and no one would ever have suspected that he would be open to try feeding.

“No… it wasn’t like that,” Mike tried to explain, feeling that Danny was suddenly seeing him in a whole new light. “It was just a little birthday treat for Bruno. That’s all. I didn’t want to do it.” 

“He fucking loved it!” Bruno went on; full of excitement to explain; like this had been bottled up inside him ever since it had happened. “He ate like a pig and then squirted absolutely everywhere afterwards. Shall I do the noise you made when you came?” he asked Mike with a cheeky smirk. 

“No!” Mike shot back with blood rushing to his face.

“Well, well, well!” Danny smiled to himself. “I never would have picked you for a gainer!”

“I’m not!” Mike tried defensively. “It was just a one time thing!”

“Sure,” Danny teased him. “That’s what they all say!” He winked and laughed, letting Mike know that he was only joking with him. Then the conversation changed, leaving Mike feeling surprisingly disorientated as they went back to discussing more mundane affairs. His heart was racing. Was he annoyed at Bruno for sharing their intimate secret like that? Or was it something else?

A few more weeks passed by. Bruno had made some significant progress with his weight, to the point where his tummy was starting to fall out of the t-shirts he had worn when he and Mike had first gotten together; arousing them both beyond belief. Bruno had wanted to celebrate, getting high on some weed and stuffing himself full, just as he had done in his early days, back in college. 

“I fucking love you,” Bruno growled, barely able to focus properly. He slapped his big gut and grinned. “I’m getting so fucking huge with your help, and I love it!”

“Well, I’m very pleased to be of some assistance,” Mike chuckled back, in much the same way any sober guy would, speaking to someone so high.

“And you know what else I love?” Bruno asked mischivously.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Mike smiled back, indulging Bruno with his attention, despite the fact that he knew the big man would never remember any of this in the morning.

“I love how chubby you’re getting too!” Bruno whispered as if not wanting to be overheard by a thousand invisible people that surrounded them.

“I’m not getting chubby,” Mike laughed, rolling his eyes at how far gone Bruno was by now.

But Bruno simply threw his head back and smiled with complete joy and happiness. “Oh, I love that!” he moaned with pleasure. “I love how you don’t even realise it! It’s so fucking… insanely hot! You’ve got a little chubby paunch and you haven’t even noticed! It makes me so fucking horny. If you only knew how much fucking butter… and cream… and oils I throw into your food when I cook! Oh, you’d be so fucking mad if you knew!” he giggled to himself; still with that blissful smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Mike stood up, resisting the urge to touch his body and feel. His heart was beating with a peculiar speed, considering how little attention he usually paid to the ramblings of Bruno when he was high. Calmly and without speed, he took himself to the bathroom and shut the door. He saw his face in the mirror, much like every other time he was in here. Pragmatically, he lifted his shirt from his body and dropped it onto the floor. He realised quite quickly that he hadn’t scrutinised his body in quite some time, especially given how quickly the mirror steamed up in this tiny bathroom whenever the shower was running. And yet, the shape of him was all wrong. Since when had his stomach looked so swollen? As he brushed with his finger against his belly button, he noticed a strange, alien fluttering beneath the skin. Unlike the sleeping Bruno in the next room, he hadn’t just gorged himself to create such a bloat. No, underneath his skin was an entirely new, and surprisingly thick, layer of fresh blubber. He grabbed it and pinched at it, surprised at how much he could hold between his fingers and thumb. He turned to his side and noted with horror how very much the shape of it curved out enough to look like a paunch, just as Bruno had said. 

Throwing down his sweatpants and underwear, Mike turned and inspected his rear, only to discover peculiarly plump glutes where his tight butt had once been. His fingers delicately traced the marks on his skin around his waist where his underwear had been quietly digging into him and he bounced on his toes, seeing a ripple of fat flutter through developing love handles. 

Just what had happened to him, he thought with horror, pressing his fingers into his face and realising that there was indeed a little padding of fat growing under his chin. His body was so altered and he hadn’t even realised it! His focus had been so squarely on Bruno, it had left him blind to all else. 

Yet, there it was, as he prodded and poked, grabbed and jigled: the very thing that had led him here, into a kinky relatioship with an ever fattening 440lb man; his raging hard-on, pumped full of blood and throbbing with lust at the sight of his own reflection. Mike’s hand reached for it, as if from pure instinct. Then, with very little time needed, he stroked it up and down, up and down, until it ejaculated with a violent force all across the mirror.

The next morning, Mike awoke to the smell of frying bacon. Bruno was always up early after a session like the one last night, and he generally consumed more than usual the following day. The big man re-entered their bedroom with a grin, passing a large plate of greasy goodness to Mike; it’s hefty portion cleverly camouflaged by the more extreme size of Bruno’s own plateful. 

Instinctively, Mike accepted it, only remembering Bruno’s confession from hours earlier as he was halfway through. Just as he had anticipated, Bruno didn’t remember much from the night before. Once he’d finished the box of doughnuts, he claimed that his mind was a blur, and Mike knew there was no point in bringing up what had been said. However, he did notice, for the first time, how much Bruno was casually glancing over to check on his lover’s progress with the food, inexplicably eliciting a surge of blood into his groin. Throughout the day, Mike also noticed how much Bruno’s eating and snacking habits were rubbing off on him. Whenever Bruno headed to get something for himself from the kitchen, he would always return to the couch with something small and seemingly insignificant for Mike as well. How long had Bruno been doing that without him even registering how these incidental, accidental calories must have been bloating his usual diet?

There were other revelations as well. When Mike went for dinner at his parents’ place one evening, he noticed straight away how small their dinner plates seemed in comparison to what he was now so used to, living with Bruno. He ate it all up, yet his stomach still churned with hunger, even as he left to head home. Then there was the night that he went out for food with his friend, Martha. He’d worn something loose and relaxed, given how much he was starting to notice his paunch in all his other clothes, yet Martha still picked up on a differene to his eating, laughing at how quickly he ate and how full he filled his mouth. Mike blushed. The way Martha described the way he was eating seemed to be exactly how Bruno gorged himself. It had been one of the traits that had turned Mike on the most about his huge boyfriend: the way he ate so ravenously, taking enormous mouthfuls that filled his cheeks and then swallowing it all down and starting again. But had it become a habit that Mike had subconsciously picked up himself as well? Was he now eating in a way that was reminiscent of his 450lb boyfriend?

There was an easy solution to all of this confusion that Mike felt. All he had to do was ask Bruno what was going on. Was he noticeably fatter than he used to be? Was Bruno overfeeding him, as he had claimed that night when he was high? However, Mike had never been particularly great at facing issues head-on. In fact, he found the silence and the ‘not talking about it’ to be strangely comforting. He could forget it was happening and attempt to convince himself that it was all just a kinky little fantasy that was playing out in his own head. That was, until the obvious strain of his pants, underwear and t-shirts started to become too much. Mike remembered how flustered he had been when someone in work had called him out on his weight gains, prodding an outstretched finger into his middle and laughing. He remembered the plethora of emotions within him: embarrassment, shame, disappointment. However, it also supercharged his libido to an insane extent, giving him a boner that he had hardly been able to shift for a whole week.

Upgrading his work pants became the logical strategy, not wanting to generate too much attention to his new shape, nor rip them open if he were to bend over. Likewise, his shirts could look unprofessional if they were to strain any more than they currently were. Mike looked in the mirror and nodded in approval. Yes, these would work well. His new body shape was nicely concealed with ease if you could ignore the slight puffiness to his face. It was certainly something he could learn to live with without too much worry. But that was before the fat started to build up more in his chest. He’d noticed a slight bounce under his shirts for a few days, but it was only when he stood in the mirror that he realised how pointed and full his nipples now appeared. They began to show through, even when he wore his most flattering of shirts and t-shirts. Then Mike could see Bruno staring at them hungrily, knowing exactly what he was doing, and loving every second of it.

It was only a few weeks later, when the concert tickets arrived that Bruno had booked for Mike as a Valenetine’s Day treat, that the enormous Bruno made his next big move. Mike had been gushing about what an amazing gift his thoughtful boyfriend had surprised him with, and kicking himself instead for having forgotten Valentine’s Day altogether.

“You really didn’t get me anything, huh?” Bruno asked with a bemused smile.

“I’m so sorry. I just don’t know where this month has gone. It feels like yesterday we were taking down the holiday decorations,” Mike tried as an excuse.

“That’s okay,” Bruno smiled, grabbing Mike’s butt and rubbing it suggestively, as he tended to do quite often these days, having become seemingly very obsessed with the shape and feel of Mike’s glutes. “I’m sure you can think of a way to make it up to me.”

“I’m positive I could,” Mike smiled back suggestively, turned on by his lover’s chubby hands touching his softer body; his shirt being lifted off.

Bruno headed straight to his target; his tongue sliding over Mike’s nipple with an expertise unkown to Mike beforehand. 

As Mike moaned, Bruno’s hand massaged it’s way into Mike’s groin until the increasingly thicker legs parted to grant him better access. “It’s time you had another feeding,” the enormous, horny man whispered as he lifted his head to kiss Mike.

“Another one?” Mike asked, as if it hadn’t been months since his last one.

“Another one,” Bruno nodded, leading his porky lover to the big chair by the TV and sitting him down. “Right now!” he stated with a smirk.

Deciding not to argue, Mike waited patiently as Bruno disappeared and then returned with mountains of supplies. Where had he hidden all those things? 

Mike sighed and let his head flop back into the chair. Bruno had clearly orchestrated the whole thing, knowing that Mike would forget all about Valentine’s Day, given how busy he had been in work. “All right… Just this once,” he chuckled, surrendering. After all, he really should have remembered their Valentine’s Day. No excuses

This new feeding was kinky from the offset. Bruno’s hands rubbed and pinched at Mike’s extra pounds more than usual, and he pushed in the food with a lot less compromise than he had last time. “What a greedy little pig…” the man whispered between sucking Mike off and pausing at just the right moments to prolong the experience.

There was a swirl and great gushing of chemicals and pleasure in Mike’s brain throughout the entire process. He thought he would climax, then not. He thought Bruno’s teasing couldn’t get any better, and then it did. He’d almost forgotten how arousing his feeding had been last time, and then it all came rushing back with ten times the original intensity. 

“Are you going to keep getting fatter for me, Mike?” Bruno asked, expertly stroking his lover’s hardness as if he really might let him climax this time.

Mike moaned. The answer was obvious. “Yes,” he nodded submissively, desperate to feel that final pleasure.

“Say it. Promise me!” Bruno ordered.

Mike inhaled as much as he could as the orgasm built and his legs twitched with the impending climax. “I promise. I’ll get fatter for you. I’ll eat whatever you want me to!”

“Are you a gainer?” Bruno asked, suddenly deadly serious.

“What?” Mike asked back, completely thrown by the word and the thought of it being deployed to describe him. He looked down at his body, so completely altered and swollen, not just with the food he had eaten that day, but with the pounds and pounds of pure blubber he had amassed over months and months. He’d let it all happen to him without so much as a second thought. His gym subscription had been a pointless outgoing from his bank account for weeks now. He really was… a gainer.

“Say it!” Bruno demanded, knowing that he had taken Mike over the edge and he was running out of time before he would squirt everywhere.

“I’m a gainer!” Mike shouted as he came. “I’m a gainer!”

The smug smile couldn’t be wiped off Bruno’s face over the next few days, even as Mike had panicked and asked if they could take this new direction of his quite slowly. Bruno had agreed, without any sincerity whatsoever. Mike found that his portion sizes had almost doubled overnight and Bruno immediately began experimenting with new pet names for him, like ‘piggy’ and ‘hog’. They’d also had more sex than even in the early days of their relationship; both allowing the eroticism of food and bloating to overtake them.

As Mike’s paunch swelled into a full gut, he hardly recognised his own kinky reflection. He’d started adopting items from Bruno’s old wardrobe from the time when he’d just finished college. The comments on his weight from colleagues and friends had stopped, just as Bruno had warned him they would; the seriousness and speed of his rapidly increasing weight startling them all into silence. Aside from eating a little bit more, Mike could hardly understand why it was all happening to him so quickly. Pants he had bought only weeks before, were now unable to close; the buttons on his shirts straining to contain the expanding flesh behind them. 

Likewise, Bruno had packed on weight at a greater pace than usual, gaining his annual 25lbs in only three months of Mike becoming an official gainer. His double chin had continued swallowing up his neck and his remarkable gut had a new, more extreme width and sag to it than ever before. The gainer bug inside of him was more ravenous than it had been in years - and it showed!

“Look at you two!” laughed Bruno’s gainer friend, Danny. “Fuck!”

Bruno smiled proudly, lifting his enormous t-shirt up to show off the huge expanse of skin and faint stretch marks across his own monstrous stomach. Meanwhile, Mike held back, unused to such attention and merely smiling at how delighted Bruno was to have gained so much weight.

“And look at you!” Danny marvelled, seeing the stout stomach that was pushing its way out of Mike’s torso. “I hardly recognised you!”

“He’s still a little shy about it, aren’t you?” Bruno grinned at his boyfriend, giving his wider butt a little pat at the same time.

“I can’t believe you finally let Bruno have his way with you!” Danny smiled at Mike. “He’s been wanting to fatten you up ever since you two met.”

Mike looked across at Bruno with surprise. “Since we met?” he asked in alarm.

Bruno smirked, despite the truth slipping out. “Of course I did,” he laughed. “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I just knew that with a little time and patience, you’d make the perfect piggy for me!”

“Piggy, huh?” Danny chuckled, watching their interaction with more than just bemusement.

“He loves it!” Bruno smiled back excitedly; his tone full of mischief, just as it always was when he was about to overshare. “If he’s eating something and can’t quite finish it all, all I have to do is…”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Mike jumped in, full of embarrassment.

“Take a look at his butt too!” Bruno insisted, spinning Mike slightly so that Danny would see.

“Jeez!” Danny marvelled, seeing Mike’s previously tight glutes now so overwhelmed with the fresh fat that had both widened and rounded out his once pretty little rump. “Not to mention those love handles!”

Mike’s face flushed.

“He’s at that stage where everything is starting to jiggle, all over his body. Such a turn on! In fact, he’s already gained his first hundred pounds!” Bruno boasted.

“First?” Mike asked to clarify, trying to keep his composure and hide the erection that the seemingly throwaway comment had just given him.

“It looks like this fatty really got to you, didn’t he?” Danny chuckled, proudly throwing his arm around Bruno’s big shoulders, like he had acomplished something monumental.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded in agreement, looking on at the man he knew he never wanted to be without; the man who had changed his life in multiple ways - and all for the better. “I guess he did…”

[wileycap]

The Stupidest Things In Netflix's Avatar The Last Airbender: A List

a.k.a.

a whiny rant from someone who has dedicated far too many of their already limited number of braincells to atla i know it's just a tv show but come on this is what tumblr is for let me whine

For your consideration, with many spoilers:

5. Katara Being Smug After Kicking Jet's Ass

In the original, Katara is betrayed by Jet. You can feel the raw emotion in the words "I trusted you! You're sick, and I trusted you!" immediately followed by her concern for the innocent people Jet has seemingly murdered. It's not a triumph, it's a wound, and the next time she sees Jet, her first reaction is "kill on sight".

This is great. It's heartwrenching, it's humanizing, and Katara using violence against Jet isn't a victory for her. It's just pain.

In the live action, Katara very mildly chastises Jet for trying to kill innocent people, which is... an interesting characterization for her, to say the least. Jet then tries to grab her, immediately followed by Katara throwing him and freezing him. She then just tells him goodbye. Her tone is placid, almost unaffected.

And then Jet says "Look at the power you have. That's because of me!"

Katara: "That wasn't you. That was me."

And then she strides off with a small smile, and that's the end of that. Sokka and Aang are not present. It's an incredibly hokey moment that's meant to emulate the style of feminine empowerment, but it has none of the substance. It glosses over any human feelings of hurt and betrayal. All that the it ends up doing is removing a story beat for Katara.

4. The Badgermoles

"They're blind! They sense feelings and react to them! Anger, fear... but mostly love."

Katara and Sokka hold hands in a cave and it makes the badgermole stop attacking them.

The blind badgermoles. Navigate by... love.

Yeah.

Do I need to say anything? Can we all see (pun intended) how stupid that is?

3. Bumi Makes Aang Choose Between Killing Him Or Letting Himself Die To Make The Dumbest Point Imaginable

Remember Bumi? Aang's old friend, a fun, kooky king? Well, here he's an actual fucking psychopath.

He collapses part of the roof onto Aang, and Aang holds it up with airbending. Another part of the roof collapses on Bumi, and Bumi just... shrugs his shoulders, fully intending to die. Aang holds that one up as well, and Bumi, instead of helping, makes the dumbest fucking point I've ever heard about "making tough choices", and urges Aang to let the boulder crush him.

Again. Bumi, the fun, wise king, wants Aang to kill him.

The situation is defused by Katara freezing a little strip on the floor so that Sokka can very slowly slide on it and tackle Bumi to safety. I can not emphasize how slow his slide is. Running would have been faster. Bumi has time to look at him and say "Huh?" as Sokka slowly slides across the floor. Oh, yeah, they were led onto the scene by the love-sensing badgermoles.

Then it's Aang's turn to be dumb. He says "you CAN rely on your friends" and hands Bumi a friendship rock. Bumi is pacified for now, but there is no telling when his next Saw trap will activate.

This made me actually feel bad. I just. I kept expecting for it to turn into a secret lesson, like Bumi in the original show, but it never did. Bumi's just a spiteful psychopath who is easily swayed by the gifting of rocks.

2. Koh The Face-Stealer Has A Backstory Now

Why? Mother of Faces? What? No.

No.

Iroh Is Intimidated By Zhao, And Then He Kills Zhao

Ah, Live Action Iroh. The most ineffectual man on the planet.

So, Zhao has the Moon Koi in a bag, and is ready to stab it with his special stabbing implement. Iroh is standing right behind him. RIGHT BEHIND HIM. Iroh has been there the whole time. Iroh does not want Zhao to kill the fish.

Iroh says: "Whatever you do to that spirit, I'll unleash on you tenfold!"

Remember how in the original, where that was like a big, shocking moment that he got angry? And how Zhao immediately let go of the fish, only to then have his anger get the best of him? How Zhao attacked the spirit by surprise?

Well, here it's a little different. For one, like I already said, Iroh doesn't come in suddenly, he sort of gets bullied into looking for the spirit by Zhao. Then he looks for the spirit, and after Zhao finds it, then he decides that he really has a problem with killing the spirit. He did protest before, but then he kind of just caved and helped anyways.

He threatens Zhao, and Zhao just... brushes him off. "Spare me your empty threats." Then the firebenders next to Iroh sort of... glower at him menacingly, and Iroh looks worried.

Zhao offers Iroh a place at his side once he becomes Fire Lord, which, uh? Okay. Fine. I actually don't have a problem with Zhao wanting to be Fire Lord, that seems to be entirely on brand for him, but everything he does to get to that goal is just stupid.

Aang arrives, they talk, Aang says "I don't matter", and then Iroh, who has sidled past the Glowering Firebenders Who Do Nothing Else, shoots the fish out of Zhao's hands. And then, as Zhao is on the ground, reaching for the fish with his special stabbing implement, Iroh forgets that he can shoot fire out of his hands, and lets Zhao stab the fish.

AND THEN Iroh, who literally stood by two different times and let Zhao kill the fish, decides to kick everyone's ass. And the Glowering Firebenders do nothing. One of them just stands in the background. Iroh doesn't even attack that guy.

In the original, Iroh immediately leaps into action after Zhao kills the spirit by means of surprise attack, takes out Zhao's guards in about a second, and Zhao escapes.

Here, he doesn't do anything at first except help Zhao find the spirit he doesn't want to see killed, then back down, then do something, then back down again, then do something again, then forget that he can do anything, and then he does something again.

It's just... so dumb. (So dumb it's brilliant!) No! It's just dumb!

And then, fifteen minutes later, after Zuko has dueled Zhao, Iroh kills him. Iroh just barbecues him by striking him from behind. Gee, Iroh, if you were willing to do that, why not just do it when Zhao was holding the fish?

Dishonorable mentions:

The fact that all of the actors fit their characters so well and have some great moments, but the show just doesn't support their performances at all. I feel so bad for all of them, being robbed of a chance to shine by some truly awful writing, editing and direction

The Ocean Spirit making Godzilla noises

June flirting with Iroh (didn't they say that they wanted to remove iffy stuff from the original? Well, that whole thing was iffy in the original. Why didn't you cut it entirely?)

Zuko doing the jazz hands to charge an attack

All the clunky and unnecessary exposition (for example: after Aang turns into the Ocean Spirit, Yue immediately turns to Sokka and narrates that Aang has turned into the Ocean Spirit, for almost 30 seconds)

The fact that Aang can only communicate with each Avatar at their shrines

The Ice Moon

The Cabbage Man literally turning to shout his line to the heavens while fire rages around him

The Secret Tunnel song being shoehorned in for no reason

Iroh's entire backstory being shoehorned in for no reason

Ozai being a caring dad actually

Zuko being shocked that Ozai prefers Azula

Gran Gran's speech

The fact that they showed Gyatso being killed by Sozin (literally nobody needed a big action scene, because that's what it was, predicated entirely on the genocide of the Air Nomads)

And finally, the fact that Sokka and Yue's reason for going to the Spirit Oasis is that Momo was fatally injured.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader

The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.

No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.

He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.

Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.

He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.

The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.

When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.

“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.

“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.

Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”

“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.

“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.

The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.

“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”

“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”

Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”

“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.

Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”

“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.

Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…

“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.

“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”

Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.

You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…

Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.

You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.

The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.

“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”

“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”

“Me, too, kid.”

You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”

“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.

Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.

“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”

You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”

Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”

Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.

“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”

Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”

A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”

“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”

“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.

“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.

Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”

“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.

“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.

Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”

His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.

After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.

At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.

It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.

“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.

“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”

You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.

“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.

You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.

Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.

“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.

“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.

“I’m ready!”

Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”

“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.

The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.

“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”

“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.

“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.

“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”

“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.

Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”

Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.

“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.

“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.

“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”

“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”

You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”

Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.

“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.

“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”

“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”

Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.

“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.

Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.

“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”

How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.

Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.

TBC