#i mean a) he skirted close to it at times very early on in his robin run which is. weird to say the least. rip tim sorry they did that to u

[welcometogrouchland]

i was gonna make a whole seperate post about how context and art seems to imply that the ex boyfriend that got stephanie pregnant was at least 18, if not older, when she was 16/15, which is kinda squicky (i mean not if she's 16 really, but 15 yes) but in my journeys on the Stephanie Brown wiki (real and delightful thing that exists) i discovered the batman chronicles #22 where her UNCLE HITS ON HER???? i think that's what we're meant to get from it anyway the dialogue is subtle (the art is not imo). AND I. WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. STEPHANIE YOU CAN START AS MANY GANG WARS AS YOU WANT WITH YOUR LIFE THE WAY IT IS WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

[targaryen-dynasty]

TO STOKE A FLAME.

Aemond Targaryen x servant!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, oral (m receiving), power imbalance (prince and maid), mutual pining, female Reader

WORDS: 4K

NOTES: this is written for the writing challenge hosted by @targaryenvampireslayer I got the prompt "Just relax for me, I'll make it feel good" and the trope mutual pining. This was my first time writing mutual pining, and I hope it's at least slightly fitting lol.

When you’re first assigned to cleaning the chambers of the King’s second son, your heart leaps for it means you are able to escape the tortures of being a scullery maid for a position that is at least a bit higher ranked, and not as ungrateful and strainful. 

Prince Aemond is an early riser, already up long before first light, and whenever he sets off to train with the sword in the morning, it’s time for you to take care of his quarters. 

There’s another maid that has been offered the same opportunity, only that she is in charge of making the chambers Prince Aegon presentable, and from what you have gathered, you wouldn’t want to trade places with her. 

Aemond’s chambers are always immaculate when you step into them. Everything is in its place, and the air is always filled with the cool morning breeze from the windows he’s kept open. Quite different to the quarters of his older brother. 

But what they do have in common are their questionable reputations. 

While Aegon is promiscuous, known to pinch and fondle at any serving girl who strays within his reach, Aemond is somewhat feared, at least among the staff. Most servant girls keep well away from the prince, and a part of you is certain it is solely because of the black eyepatch he dons after losing his eye, and the grim expression he usually holds on his face. 

The other maid that tends to his chambers with you is overly cautious when dusting or putting fresh linens on his bed, something that even makes you swallow thickly. However, you can’t seem to bring yourself to share their sentiment. 

How could you?

Despite only meeting the prince very briefly, you feel like every day that you sweep through his chambers, you get to know him more and more. If there’s bedlam following in Aemond’s wake when he leaves in the morning, it merely consists of several books scattered all over his desk, his armchairs and sometimes even his bed. 

Most of them deal with dragon lore, history, and a variety of other subjects which you wouldn’t expect to be read by any other lord, making clear that the prince is very well educated, and always strives to learn more. 

And though he keeps his chambers mostly spotless, there’s very much of his personality in them – if you read between the lines. 

More oft than not, the armchairs close to the fireplace don’t stand in their usual positions, turned to the side to face each other with one of them being piled by books or scrolls. And you know from the servants that he’s often found sitting beside the fireplace either in deep thought or engrossed in a book with the flames of the fire dancing in the corner of his eye. 

You’re cleaning his quarters all by yourself today for Darla, the other maid assigned, has been called to take care of something else, which means you’re granted slightly more time for Aemond’s chambers. 

Kneeling in front of the fireplace, you’re knocking off as much ash and debris as possible back into it, before some of it is swept up and emptied into the pail standing next to you. 

You’ve been a bit too engrossed in your task when the doors behind you burst open, catching you by surprise and startling you. There’s only one person that could and would enter the prince’s quarters at this hour of the day – the prince himself. 

As you hurry to get back on your feet, already straightening and dusting off the skirt of your maid attire, you’re a bit too quick and hit your head on the ledge of the fireplace, your mob cap falling to the ground in the process. 

It’s a stinging pain that shoots right through your whole body, and a throbbing that settles at the crown of your head. You bring a hand up to soothe the pain at least a bit, before you’re reminded of the reason why you got up in the first place. 

Gritting your teeth, you take in a sharp breath and lower your hand, bobbing a small curtsy with a strained ‘Prince Aemond’ leaving your lips to the man that stands still in the room, clearly regarding you.

“My apologies, I–” you say, trying to make excuses and wanting to state that you’re just about to leave, but he cuts you off. 

“Are you well?” he asks, though there is a lilt of amusement in his voice. “I apologize for startling you, that was not my intent.”

What’s even more unusual than him apologizing to you, a servant, for barging into his own chambers is that he's inquiring about your well-being. You’ve never before been acknowledged by any of the Targaryen’s, not that you expected it, and feeling his gaze on you kind of makes you nervous. 

He raises his brow when there doesn’t come an answer from you, and you take it as your cue to speak. “I–Yes, Prince Aemond,” you stutter, bowing your head. Raising it again, your hand brushes the crown of it briefly, the spot still throbbing despite it happening a few moments ago. “I am well. It’s–It’s nothing, my prince.” 

Gathering your things, you’re caught off guard for a second time since he’s entered his chambers as he slowly approaches you. He has a sympathetic smile on his lips now, and you’re not sure if it’s the embarrassment or him coming close enough to tower above you, but your body feels like it’s been put on fire. 

“Are you certain you’re well?” he asks, eye flitting from your head to meet your eyes. “You’ve struck your head rather hard.”

He reaches to inspect the spot on your head, yet he hesitates and pulls back right before his fingers could brush your hair. You’re slightly disappointed, but your pounding heart is grateful. Just the mere proximity brings a blush to your cheeks and has you shifting your weight from one leg to the other, and you’re certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle him touching you. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, and your hands clutch the handle of the pail tight enough for your knuckles to blanch from the force. It’s unnerving, and you’re torn between wanting to stay and wanting to leave. You’re afraid he’s not the man you’ve made up in your mind, that there’s just a hint of truth in the rumors that make their way around staff and court. 

His voice cuts through the silence like a sharp blade, smooth and somewhat calming. “What’s your name?”

Taking in a deep breath, you tell him your name, but not without your eyes darting to the ground. His gaze is heavy, too heavy for you to meet it, and you feel as though there’s something else than curiosity woven within it.

“You’re quite flustered over nothing,” he hums, and the way your name slips past his lips with so much ease almost makes you melt right then and there; at least it’s enough to make you forget that he’s clearly noticed the effect he has on you. 

Aemond takes note of you being nervous around him, his attention causing your blood to rush through your veins. It seems as though it’s a rather strong reaction that you have to him, something not many women feel when he comes near them. It’s endearing.

Your eyes flicker upwards to meet his good one again, and you straighten your back for another curtsy. 

“M-my apologies, Prince Aemond.”

You can spot the exact moment the corners of his lips curl into a teasing smirk, your timid demeanor and your nervousness the trigger for it. And being as cocky as he is, he thinks he could have a bit of fun with you. 

“It seems you’re rather out of sorts for something so trivial,” he notes, his tone teasing and playful, matching the flicker of mischief in his eye. “Perhaps I should inspect you myself to see if you have in fact sustained any injuries.”

His words make you feel as if the world around you is slowing down, making everything feel almost unbearable. You’re finding it incredibly hard to look him in the eye without blushing or your breath becoming heavy, and therefore fix them on the ground again. Noticing his large feet in comparison to your much smaller ones, your thoughts briefly stray to what else of him might be large. 

But before you can answer him, or your thoughts can dive deeper, Aemond places a hand beneath your chin and gently tilts your face back up for you to meet his gaze. You’ve only seen one other in passing, and even then you’re certain he’s paid no mind to you at all, so his touch comes unexpected. But you don’t tense, and you certainly don’t pull away. However, you’re unsure if you should give in and lean into it. 

His finger brushes along your jawline, trailing down the curve of your neck, and coming close to your collarbone, a heat following in its wake. He stops for a second, as if he’s debating whether or not he should move his touch any further. 

Aemond’s surprised by your reaction, yet he also realizes that you’re much more interesting than any of the other maids for they were all alike – all not daring to look at him or stay in his presence for longer than a few minutes. But you’re different. 

He could already tell by the way you so neatly clean and store his books when he’s spent his night reading by the fire, or how you seem to pay extra attention when you’re putting fresh linens on his bed, fluffing his pillows without the hurry the previous chambermaid has had. 

And seeing his touch having such a significant impact on you, the little maid he’s spent so much time dreaming and fantasizing about, feeds a desire he didn’t have before – the desire to bed you, to claim you. 

“Get on your knees,” he orders, hooded eye looking down at you. 

Swallowing thickly, your mind struggles to comprehend what he asked of you. “I-what?” you stammer in disbelief. 

“You heard me. On your knees.” He’s a bit firmer now, and uses the slight grip he has on your shoulder to give you a little help sinking down. You follow his lead, the pail rattling onto the ground. 

Your hands are folded in your lap when you gaze up at him, eyes wide and curiously studying his next move. With your thumbs brushing over each other, you try to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, grazing your skin to distract yourself from the throbbing that blossoms between your legs. 

Aemond looms over you, reaching out to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s something in the position you’re in, and the combination of his gentle touch and stern orders that gets to your head, and lures you in to lean into his hand. It also makes you a bit bolder as you place a hand on his thigh in return.

It piques his interest, obvious in the way he raises a brow, and his eye flickers to where your hand rests on his body. But he doesn’t shy away from the touch. 

“Do you know what I require of you?” Aemond asks, sterner than before. 

You bow your head, batting your eyelashes at him in an innocent manner. “I do, my Prince.”

That’s all he has to hear before he swiftly unlaces the front of his breeches and tugs them down barely enough to free his cock and stones, the sight alone making your breath hitch in your throat. He’s well endowed, and far bigger than the cock of the one man you’ve slept with before.

You release a shaky breath, replaying all the knowledge you’ve gathered about pleasuring a man with your mouth, and catch a whiff of musk mixed with the salty smell of sweat – he’s definitely trained with the sword this morning. 

Squeezing his thigh, your eyes flicker between his and his hard cock as the slight nod of his head encourages you to curl your hand around it, your thumb and index finger barely touching. 

He throbs in your palm already, and the tip is covered in a red that makes it clear he’s desperate to be buried inside of something; probably not caring whether it’s your mouth or your cunt.

Even though you cower beneath his dominating presence, a jolt of boldness strikes you that makes you lean in and lick a flat stripe from the base of his cock up to the bulbous tip. A salty taste lingers on your tongue as you drag it over the slit, making you hum appreciatively, seemingly pleased to witness the effect your touch and presence have on the prince’s body. 

Aemond buries his hands in your hair, loosening the bun you’ve put it into this morning, and grabs a fistful of it. It’s a sharp tug of him that catches your attention, and your wide eyes flit up to meet his demanding gaze. 

Spurred on by the heavy breaths moving his chest, you swallow, and eventually part your lips to slowly ease him inside, and even though he holds you by your hair, he’s generous enough to not force himself inside, allowing you to move as you please. 

“Fuck,” he growls as he gets accustomed to the warmth and tightness of your mouth, head tipping back to release a bawdy groan. 

You hollow your cheeks around him, and, after a few moments that allow you to adjust to him, start to bob your head back and forth his thick length, flattening your tongue against him for added stimulation. 

Growing bolder and bolder with each passing moment, you squeeze your thighs together every time the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat, robbing you of the ability to breathe until you pull off of him again. 

With his hand in your hair, Aemond senses you getting more comfortable, and starts to guide your head along his member, encouraging you to set up a quicker pace to which you eagerly comply. 

“That’s it,” he groans, not able to tear his eye from the sight of your lips wrapped around him as his cock repeatedly disappears inside of your mouth.

Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your lips down your chin with how fast you sink down on him, and the lewd sounds of his soaked cock sliding back and forth past your lips fill the prince’s chambers, hardly drowned out by his grunts and groans. 

At this point, you’re drenched in your arousal, the linen of your small clothes clinging to your swollen mound in a way that’s almost uncomfortable. 

While you bring one hand up to clasp around the rest of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh a bit harder than before, holding onto him for dear life as he uses your face however he pleases. 

You feel the muscles of his thigh tense and contract under your palm and his cock throb inside of you, indicating that he’s close to reaching his peak. It’s the first time you pleasure a man with your mouth, and you’re not quite sure what to expect. But before you can brace yourself for whatever might come, Aemond pulls you off of him by your hair, prompting you to topple back to sit on your haunches. 

You lock your teary eyes with his good one, lips smacking as his musky and salty taste spreads on them and your tongue. “My Prince, I–”

“Remove your clothes,” he interrupts you, his voice less friendly and more a command. 

There are so many thoughts rattling your mind right now, and you don’t know where to start and what to process. 

“I wasn’t asking,” he growls, his impatience showing as you don’t comply quickly enough. 

With a bow of your head, you rise to your feet and peel the beige-ish apron off of your body, the red dress and smallclothes following suit. You waste no thought on your modesty, on the fact that you’re standing bare in front of a prince of the mighty House Targaryen. The longing for him that has built with all the days you’ve cleaned his pristine chambers, and the undeniable aching between your legs don’t allow you to. 

You’re undressed when he stalks around you, regarding you like he’s the hunter and you’re his prey. You see that your obedience arouses him, his hard cock throbbing and bouncing with each step he takes around you. It’s thrilling in the best way possible, and the feeling of being desired by him feeds your confidence.

“Are you just watching, or will the prince undress as well?” 

His eye narrows and flickers up to yours at your question, and there’s the hint of a smile adorning his features. “Would you like that?” 

Biting your bottom lip, a blush creeps on your cheeks. “Very much.”

As you size him up, you notice a flush blossoming from his cheeks down his neck, the same warmth you feel obviously spreading through his body, too. 

“Then I suppose that I’ll oblige.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he removes his clothing, slipping out of layer after layer, starting with the black leather robe, and ending with his smallclothes.  

You all but drag your eyes over his lithe frame, taking in every muscle that ripples beneath his pale skin, and every silver, coarse hair that trails from below his navel to his cock and the sac of his stones. 

It seems like he basks in your attention, in the way you stare at him in awe as you lick your lips, and he’s certainly not afraid of showing himself in his full glory. 

“Get on the bed,” he says, smugly. “On your hands and knees.”

This time you know better than to take a few seconds to comply, bowing your head before climbing his bed right away, getting in the desired position. You suddenly feel vulnerable and exposed, completely at his mercy in a way you’ve never experienced before. However, your curiosity and desire overshadow any reservations you could have. 

“Pray tell, have you lain with a man before?” You feel the mattress dip beneath his weight as he slowly settles behind you. His hands find your hips, and you shiver with anticipation. 

Looking at him from over your shoulder, you nod. “Just once, my prince.”

A soft hm rubles in his chest at your words, and he raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your words. You certainly seem to take him very seriously, which isn’t unusual given his station, but it’s your honesty that’s a whole different matter to him. “You enjoyed it, I presume?”

Still meeting his gaze, you swallow thickly. You’re hesitant to answer, not sure why it’s of importance, but he doesn’t seem willing to let you off the hook just yet. “Yes, I did.”

Aemond gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze at that, and shuffles close enough for you to feel his cock press against your arse. “Would you be willing to again?”

You press your lips into a thin line to stop them from pulling into a grin, but fail miserably. The prince behind you takes that as his cue to continue, and you’re most grateful when you feel him drag the tip of his cock through your soaked folds. 

“Just relax for me,” he purrs, his eye fixed on the motions of his hand, watching as his cock disappears inside of you. “I’ll make it feel good.”

The moment you stretch around him, you take in a sharp breath, his cock breaching your cunt at a teasingly slow pace that makes sure you feel every vein and ridge of him drag along your walls.

With his hands coming back to rest on your hips, he pulls you onto his cock until his hips press against your arse, taking his time to adjust to your tightness. The ‘shit’ he mumbles doesn’t go unnoticed by you, a renewed wave of your arousal drenching his cock and the sac of his stones. 

If his impatience hasn’t been running thin before, it certainly does now, because the first gentle, sensual thrusts are quickly replaced by merciless pounding. You don’t mind it for you’ve been thoroughly soaked, and enjoy the feeling of his cock repeatedly brushing the spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry. 

Aemond brings a hand between your shoulders, applying a good bit of pressure to press your chest down and your face into the pillows. Your head turns to the side, but you’re not able to look at him.

His breathing is heavy, strained pants leaving him, and his hand trails back to grope your arse. 

“Fuck, what an obedient girl they’ve ordered to take care of my chambers–of me,” Aemond rambles behind you, bowing forwards to put a bit more of his weight on your small frame. “Taking me so well. Giving me exactly what I want.” 

The praise goes straight to your head, and you want to answer, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by quiet whimpers and whines that grow wanton as he splits you open with a hard, percussive thrust. Then another follows, and another, keening at the sweet sounds you make only for him. 

Not able to focus on anything else than the pressure building inside of your belly, you push your hips back against him, and he counters by pulling you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfways which results in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin to echo off the walls. 

He’s making you feel so good, so wanted, that you’re certain you would keep going even if someone is to barge into his chambers, interrupting you.

As his hand snakes beneath your body to make contact with your pearl, you’re overcome with the true knowledge of how experienced Aemond actually is. He strums your body like the most talented lutenist, bringing you closer towards your sweet release. 

“Gods, I–” you whine into the pillows. 

The taut string inside of you snaps, and the pleasure within you soares through your veins. White, hot pleasure clouds your vision, his arm around you the only thing keeping you up right now. 

“That’s it,” Aemond grunts, and the snaps of his hips increase to the point your whines become hiccuped, catching in your throat with little to no time to fill your lungs with air. 

And then, his hips stutter, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls. He twitches and trembles so much that he’s forced to still his hips, and you take it as your cue to roll yours against him, helping him through his peak. 

The throbbing only stills once you’ve milked him for every drop of his seed and the last bit of the euphoric high subsides, making him come back to his senses. 

But there’s not much basking in the proximity for you, not when Aemond pulls out almost immediately after, climbing off the bed to get dressed again. The red dress is crudely thrown into your direction, silently making clear that it’s time for you to leave. 

It seems as though he’s embarrassed, because he has a hard time meeting your eyes, and doesn’t look at you when you get back in your clothes. But perhaps you’re just not catching the subtle glances he throws into your direction as your maid attire comes back to hug your curves. 

Tying the apron and fixing your hair, you reach for the pail. It’s then, with you bowing forwards, that you finally feel his seed trickling out of your cunt, and the sensation alone makes you shiver in an uncomfortable way. You certainly have to look for a quiet spot in the keep where you can clean yourself, since you’re not done working. 

You head for the door, but before you open it, his smooth voice catches your attention again. 

“You may leave now, but I expect you to come back and finish your task at the Hour of the Ghosts, for you have not cleaned the fireplace thoroughly enough.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

[neoplatinum]

we can't be friends - ariana grande | minatozaki sana

summary: the earth only has one moon, are you really the moon to sana's earth?

pairing: childhood-friend!sana x fem!reader

themes: extremely angsty, best friends to ?? to ??, internalized homophobia, gender dysphoria, sana's not too great of a friend, reader is a pushover until she isn't, implied sex, original male character, [----] x reader

wc: 3.2k

(side b: north and south poles | minatozaki sana)

from what you've learned in school, at the very early age of kindergarten is that the earth only has one moon, only one. mars has two moons: phobos and deimos.

when you were kids, you were called deimos, sana was called mars, and fuji was called phobos. it was always you three together, running through the streets of the countryside of japan.

causing so much trouble for your administrators, running around yelling down the halls of your school, the terrible trio of class 2-A. leaving school was always fun too, running around for snacks and jumping at the sight of cats.

you and sana were always closer, whenever fuji had to go home early because of his strict extracurriculars, you spent time with sana. walking by the train tracks, looking for lost coins for the vending machine or even staying for dinner with sana’s parents. it felt like it was you three taking on the small town.

until it didn’t. when middle school rolled around, you were excited to see them two after a couple of weeks of summer. each of you was busy with other things in life, making it hard to meet each other. so on the first day of school, you strolled in, ready to take on the new school year with sana and fuji by your side, when you noticed they weren’t talking much to each other.

fuji found basketball friends in his group, clinging to them like they were his new lifeline. sana has gotten close to the popular girls, they were nice but very superficial, all having drama with each other but in front of the group, they all faked smiles for each other.

you found yourself in between two different worlds, you tried calling to them after school, but they both dismissed you saying they had extracurriculars. fuji had gone off to play with his friends during basketball practice, while sana participated in school government association.

you got tricked into becoming treasurer for the sga that very year, so it was nice to still be around sana. although you could feel her distance.

it isn’t until one spring afternoon, you feel your first ever heartbreak. sana rushes into the sga room while you were napping on a desk.

she taps your shoulder excitedly, “wake up!”

you rub your eyes and focus on sana, who’s shoving a letter in your hand. you read the first line and yeah, your heart is crushed.

“fuji confessed to me!” she shouts excitedly, doing a little dance by herself as you read the lines.

“oh, congrats.” you hand the letter back to her, she looks at you a bit puzzled by your simple reaction.

“he asked me out! im so excited.” she explains, going into detail about their supposed first date. “he might kiss me, what do you think?”

“if you want to kiss him, then kiss him.”

she rolls her eyes at that, of course she knows that. that’s not what she’s implying.

“what i mean is, i’ve never had my first kiss! i don’t know what to do.” she goes on, thinking about it seriously. “what if he kisses me, and i suck and he doesn’t want to kiss me.”

“sana, if he thinks you being a bad first kisser is a deal breaker then dump him.”

you explain, placing your head back on your arms.

“you have to help me!”

“help?”

“kiss me, pretend you’re fuji.”

“no way sana.”

“why? too much of a chicken to kiss me?”

“no im not!”

"bawk bawk bawk" sana mocks you. making flapping arm motions to imitate a chicken.

“fine!” you hold yourself together (as much as you can) and place your lips gently against sana, pulling her in by the neck. caressing her cheek before letting her go. her eyes are dazed.

“wow yeah, that was good.” she fiddles with her school skirt, “i wish you were a boy, you’d make a girl very happy kissing her like that.” she blushes and leaves you alone, you feel that jagged break in your heart tear a little longer.

your tears don't stop as you try and go back to taking a nap, feeling your breathing getting heavy and you stay the rest of the afternoon, crying about not being born a guy for sana.

--

that was the last time you really talked to sana, too hurt that you cut your hair short the next day in the bathroom sink. crying tears into the porcelain bowl, with tears filling around your choppy hair. when you finally stop, you try liking the idea of it being short like a boys. but sana doesn’t spare you a glance. suddenly the hair feels too choppy and the air that you didn't feel when your hair was long starts to bother you.

it doesn't bother you for long, once your hair grows back. it feels right, like you were meant to look this pretty and feminine. you stay away from both sana and fuji as much as you can.

until one day sana knocks rapidly at your door, you haven't had her over in years. high school created even more distance between you two, you found your own people to be around. people that never overlapped with sana and fuji.

--

until you see sana staring at you from across the door, eyes still sparkling as they always have, in that charming look. and the longer face, the warm smile and comforting scent of flowers. as much she is the sana you remember, you don't think she's the same sana you once knew.

"hi."

"hi sana, are you okay?" you let her in. and it's like you're transported back to when you were thirteen, letting sana come over whenever she needed to complain about fuji and his "boy" tendencies. now that you're both 18 and ready to set off into the real world, you feel a little strange having sana visit.

"yeah, i need your help." she starts, dropping her bag onto the floor. you feel your heart rate spike a bit, was sana in trouble?

"help with what?" you offer her a bottle of her favorite drink, royal milk tea.

"you remembered." she says softly, grabbing it and downing it in a few quick seconds, a sign she's nervous and with the tapping of her foot. you're feeling anxious just at the sight. "fuji asked to have sex."

you nearly spit out your own water, "what?" your eyes are wide and you stare at sana as she keeps her eyes away from you.

"i need your help."

"did he do something sana? i'll kill him myself." you get up.

"no, none of that. i want to, have sex i mean. i just can't with him first."

"why not?"

"well, i...i want my first time to not be him. i just know it in my heart."

"okay. so how am i supposed to help you?"

"be my first."

"sana! you can't ask that of me."

"why not? we're best friends, of course we can."

"sana no, you love fuji, he should be your first if you love him. you're dating him too, that would be cheating."

"i dont, i dont think, i just." she shakes her head. "it can't be with him first." she ends it softly, hands in her lap. looking like she's been scolded. you feel the guilt bubbling up in your stomach; here she was being vulnerable, and you just accused her of being a cheater.

"what's really going on?" you ask, she's not making sense anymore.

"i need you to be my first, i want you to be. it can't be anyone else." sana is firm. standing up and taking your hands in hers. with her eyes looking into yours like that, like she knows how much you love and adore her. you can't find yourself to say no, even if it betrays fuji.

"okay."

"yeah?" her eyes light up.

"yeah." you pull sana upstairs, and begging her to forget about fuji, just for one night. to only focus on you and to pull out those pretty sounds of sana uttering your name into the night.

you don't stop until you feel sana against you, like it's where she belongs, right in your arms.

--

when sana leaves in the morning, you feel that gash that you've been trying so hard to heal get ripped apart again. she thanks you like you're someone who was there to provide a service to her, like that's the only purpose you served her that night.

as if you didn't pour your heart out as you kissed down her torso, cherishing her body like the gods sculpted it. as if she isn't the only woman in the world, you begin to think maybe that's what you were made for. someone to exist for sana, and never with her.

this hurtful thought bumps around your brain, hitting every surface of it, you feel your heart break into two. like you're led on a leash by sana, without her letting you ever leave.

it becomes a habit, a habit you can't break. you circling between the sana and fuji whenever it was the holidays or birthday parties. each year you feel more and more of your soul slip away. you can't begin to tell where your identity begins and ends without sana.

doesn't help that fuji is a good man for sana. always considerate and careful, giving her the space and time she needs when she's overwhelmed. you think sana chose well, a good man in her life that'll never waver his loyalty for her.

but it leaves you in disarray, sana contacting you for her relationship problems. leaving fuji all alone as she calls you to escape. weeks spent away from fuji, where you two meet hidden away from the world. a hidden place filled with drunk kisses and hookups, ones you would never utter to fuji.

you being invited at her parties, seeing his arms draped around her like you weren't caressing them just days ago. it's all too much, you don't know if you can be friends with her. ever again.

until she marries fuji, she hands you their invitation card herself. how dare she? after years of being a secret she hands you a knife for you to stab into your heart, and she does it with a smile. explaining how happy she is to have the wedding of her dreams, while you feel the woman of your dreams slip right through your fingers.

but then the reality hits, she was never yours to begin with, you two are simply friends. just best friends that know each other's bodies too well.

you play your part well, giving a dedicated speech to them two. reminiscing of the early days of you as a trio. days of mischief, talking about learning of their feelings for each other, making jokes about how they were polar opposites, destined to find each other magnetically. you leave out the part where you think you would fit well with sana even if you aren't the opposing magnet.

you try and stay away from her as much as you can after the wedding, to save your own heart (as much there is left). blocking her number and taking time away from japan. going overseas to travel, and it works out well, you meet a woman named momo, you don't mention the woman to sana. you don't hear from sana and you feel your heart calm a bit, like it's finally able to take a break.

when you return to japan, you find her at your doorsteps, fallen asleep at your door. she wakes up to the sight of you and hugs you immediately, complaining about how worried she was that you disappeared. you don't mention how you blocked her number. letting sana into your apartment and she drops the biggest news on you that you could ever expect: shes pregnant.

"congratulations sana!" you fake a smile and she goes on to explain that it's going to be a little girl. and she's so excited to dress her up and have a daughter.

you feel like you're hearing static noise as she goes on, sitting on your couch talking animatedly about the new nursery and all the books she's been reading about motherhood. it isn't until she finally steps away to go home that you realize that you never said more than congratulations.

--

months later, she births the beautiful baby girl. you wait outside the room, a balloon in one hand and a pack of diapers in the other. the nerves of having to see sana after so long made you vomit in the hospital bathroom just ten minutes ago. you try to focus on anything else, the sterile walls, the smell of sanitizer, the sounds of nurses chatting. then you see fuji step outside, looking like a tired first-time father.

"congratulations fuji!" you say as you pass him the diapers. he laughs at the sight and thanks you before saying he's going outside to get some food and that sana is awake.

you step into the hospital room and hear the rhythmic heart monitor and low beeps of machines. there sana is, exhausted as ever but happily babbling to her baby. you can see the little baby in the swaddle. you walk up to the bedside.

"hi sana, congratulations on your new baby." you tie the balloon to her bed, and she smiles at you, tired but always warm. "she's beautiful, sana." you wash your hands and poke at her cheek.

"isn't she? i think it's too early to say, but she might have my eyes." you look back down and see the baby, eyes closed in bliss. you think they look like sana's too. ones that you used to look at as kids.

"i want to name her after you." she starts, gently caressing her head. you stop, leaning back quickly.

“dont do that sana, don’t give it the same curse you gave me.” you bite out. sana stops caressing the baby's face to look at you. “forced to love someone who will never love them back.”

"what are you talking about?" sana says gently, you've never raised your voice at her in all the years you've known each other.

"sana, you can't give her my name. i forbid you to." you say sternly; after how much she destroyed you, you're not letting her name her daughter that.

"but, why?" she's still perplexed, eyes wide.

"it's not right." you look away from sana, years of pain resurfacing just at the idea. "you really hurt me, i don't want you to name your daughter after me."

she doesn't press you on the matter anymore, anxious eyes darting all over the room, trying to find an escape from this conversation.

"what about being her godmother?"

"i'm moving away sana."

it's like the final nail in the coffin, both phrases being said at the same time. you realize there's no other way to say it, not over text or a call. it's better to say it here, ripping off the bandaid completely.

"moving? where are you moving?" you can hear the heartbeat machine beeping faster, and you see her heart rate climbing steadily.

"korea, i got a job over there." you say dismissively.

"oh wow, when do you move?" sana's voice is timid as she tries to hold back tears at the idea.

"i leave in a week." you say, picking your stuff up getting ready to leave. "congratulations again sana, your baby is beautiful and healthy. tell fuji that he'll be a good father, i know it." and with that you step to leave, and just as you turn the knob you can hear it, the sound of sana crying.

you try not to cry yourself, but you can't stay here. orbiting around two people who are building their life together. you weren't supposed to be here to begin with. earth never had two moons. you nearly bump into fuji when he opens the door.

"oh fuji, i'm sorry i couldn't stay long." you offer when you see him outside, food in hand and excited to talk to you, he smiles sadly. giving you a hug as you walk outside.

feeling like for once you control your own life, your love is yours, and no longer sana's.

"stay a while longer, sana is so excited to see you!" he says, trying to urge you to come back inside.

"it's okay, we'll see each other around." you turn to look back at sana, and she stares right into you with tears running down her face and glaring at you. you just told your final lie to sana, closing the door behind them, like you closed your relationship with sana.

--

you don't see sana for years; it's strange. growing up with so much hurt and pain made it difficult to enjoy your romantic relationships, but you realize there is always a person for you, yours being hirai momo, not sana minatozaki.

here at incheon international airport, you stretch from your seat, needing to get some movement in before you sit in that cramped airplane seat for hours. so you make a beeline to the bathroom, walking directly into a young girl.

she falls backwards, nearly hitting her head on the floor, but you catch her in time.

"hi sweetie you okay?" you pat her down, pulling her shirt down. she nods at you and you see her eyes, and you feel your memories shift back to when you were five years old, meeting that girl that sat near you in class 2-A. she runs towards someone.

you stand up and recognize those eyes immediately, sana minatozaki in the flesh after five years. eyes wide as she stares at you. fuji right by her side.

you can see the recognition in sana's eyes. you walk right up to them, offering the couple a hug. sana's arms grip onto you so tightly you feel your ribs in her hold. then you feel a tug at your pant leg.

you turn around and smile at the girl by your leg.

"say hi hana, this is sana and fuji." your little girl waves to them hi, while sana is still staring at you. fuji starts congratulating you, excited to see that you have a daughter. you let out a laugh. then you feel a pat on your back, with momo walking up to kiss you.

then you let your daughter down to play with sana's daughter. eyes fond at the two little girls chasing after each other.

“it’s been a while.” sana's voice cuts into your thinking.

“yeah, i guess it has.” you reply, finally looking at her after so long. sana gulps, willing the tears away.

"honey, you’re crying.” fuji says wiping away sana's tear, you smile at that. he's good for her.

“oh i didn't notice.” sana laughs, rapidly wiping her tears away.

you let the three of them talk, momo joining in and introducing herself. you're left feeling a bit better about your decision to leave sana's side all those years ago. waiting for her to love you back would've costed your relationship with momo, especially since you would have never had hana.

it's important to know when being friends turns into we can't be friends anymore.

--

a/n: hehehehehe, angst is so fun to write, that's probably why it's everywhere in my writing. thank you to the anon who requested this! i wrote this in like 6hrs. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[darkstarerotica]

Gracie’s The-Rapist

            Gracie was like other women in their early twenties. She was depressed and anxious. Not all the time of course. But enough of the time. A friend had recommended a therapist for her. She claimed he had “fixed, I mean… helped me”. The word fixed hung in the air oddly but she didn’t pay much attention. Gracie made the appointment later that week. A couple of weeks later she sat in the doctors office. He was handsome, older, which made her a little uncomfortable at first as she was always attracted to older men. Especially intelligent men.

            The first couple of sessions were pretty standard. Intake questions and talking about life and struggles. At the end of the third appointment the therapist mentioned that for the next session they were going to change gears a little but didn’t elaborate. She was intrigued but didn’t push things further.

            At the next session he started by getting her to close her eyes and imagine different scenarios. She would then recount them to him. As the session went on he had her imagine more and more intimate scenarios. Finally he asked her about sexual fantasies. She giggled a little but was in such a suggestive state she started to share details about her fantasies. Being used by older men, consensual non consent, being choked and slapped by her partners. The last scenarios she could not believe she was sharing she told him how she had always wanted to be used publicly by anyone willing. Open for all that wanted her.

            He brought her back around and instead of being uneasy with her openness she felt relieved. Her anxiety had dissipated and so had her sadness. She waited eagerly for the next appointment. When she sat down he congratulated her on her improvements. And said that they were going to move on to the next step in her therapy. This session they were going to use full hypnosis. “Are you ok with that?” he asked. She was not really even sure what that would entail, but she was so happy with how she had been feeling that she readily consented. He pulled a small pen light from his pocket and alternating her eyes had her count down from 20. Blackness. She woke some time later. Groggy She looked at the clock. Five minutes before the end of their session. She felt… odd. But really good. Relaxed. Strange. It was then that she realized she must have been aroused at some point. She could feel her panties wet between her legs. She squirmed a little. Hoping for a moment she hadn’t wet herself. She would have died from embarrassment. “No, I am just wet, soaking wet.”

            The doctor concluded the session by telling her that some patients experience being aroused while they are under and she shouldn’t worry if she has had that happen. It is perfectly normal. She admitted to nothing but felt very relieved. “Whatever he did” she thought “it really worked. The week passed with her mood totally elevated. She was happy and glowing. All of the next month the sessions continued. Always with the same response. Without knowing why she started to want to wear different clothes to the sessions. Shorter skirts more revealing blouses. She wore more make up. Whatever she felt made her look the prettiest. She was feeling so good about herself she couldn’t help but want to.

            This next session something odd happened. Well, rather it happened after. She had this vision come to mind. It was the night after a session she blinked her eyes as she saw herself in the office. She was on her knees the doctor standing before her. He had her head in his hands and He was slowing fucking her mouth with his hard cock. She instantly got aroused. She could feel her wetness. She kept the vision in her head and she started to touch herself. Moaning as he continued. He kept telling her “Gracie, yes, you are such a good girl. Good girls know how to suck cock and you are proving what a good girl you are” He continued in her minds eye till finally he released a big full load deep down her throat. She came instantly.

            At the next session as they were about to start she told her therapist “I am so embarrassed but I have to tell you about this vision I had.” She recounted to him the story. Leaving out the pleasuring of herself. As he listened he moved about the room. Occasionally just nodding. A couple “I see” so that she knew he was listening. “Gracie?” “Yes” “Here stand and move to my desk, yes there, right in the middle” “Um ok” She hesitated but did as she was told. She was wearing a particularly short skirt this session. With a mesh top over her bra. She hadn’t even thought this might be inappropriate to wear to her doctors office.        

            He moved towards her. She thought to move away but she felt powerless. She stayed like a deer caught in the gaze of a lion. He positioned himself right in front of her. He grabbed her, his touch surprised her. “Wait, what are you doing?” she protested. “I am going to show you what a good girl you’ve become” At hearing those words she got wet immediately. All she could think about wanting him. “wait I’m confused” He responded with “here let me show you” He lifted up her skirt. Pulled her panties down in a swift motion and dove his fingers into her wet pussy. She moaned instinctively. He started to finger her with one then two fingers. She was confused but couldn’t break away. It felt amazing. “He pulled his fingers out and brought him to her lips “good girls get wet when they are told to, see what a good girl you are?” and at each mention she felt her pussy throb. He put his fingers in her mouth and she sucked on them eagerly. She licked them clean and he congratulated her again “There’s my good girl” and now she was beyond rabid. She wanted his cock inside her more that anything she had ever wanted “Please, please fuck me” she begged. He unzipped his pants and she immediately dropped to her knees. She eagerly placed him in her mouth, she didn’t even know she could give head like that. Her gag reflex was gone and he moaned as she soaked his hard cock in her spit.             After a while he held her head steady, and started to use her mouth like a toy. The vision. This is what she saw. It came back to her and blended with the reality. She moaned, but still her gag reflex was completely gone. He pushed into her face harder and faster. Then he pulled out. Praised her again and brought her to her feet.

            ‘See what a good girl I have made you?” She moaned at the words. He flipped her around hands on his desk. He pushed up her skirt and easily slid his cock inside of her. She had never experienced anything like it. He fucked her deep and hard and she came readily and often. “Are you my good girl?” He asked her. An the words would make her cum again “Yes, yes, I am your good girl… please keep fucking me, please…” As their session time neared the end he paused. “And, now do you remember what good girls do at the end of their sessions?” “Yes, good girls use their mouths to repay their doctor and to clean him up for his next patient”… “That’s, right that is exactly what good girls do”. She turned around and dropped to her knees. Not just giving him head but licking his thighs and balls, Any where were here cum was she licked him clean. Moaning and licking, moaning and licking. Then finally she took him fully in her mouth and sucked on him like a machine. When he could take no more he grabbed her head. Pulled her all the way in and came deeply down her throat. He groaned as he released and held her there, her mouth balls deep until his spasms stopped and he drained himself fully inside her.

            He stood up, pulled his pants up. Patted her on the top of the head and said “Our usual appointment time next week” Without thinking, or feeling Gracie simply agreed, nodding her head.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Lover Boy

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x f!reader

Warnings: just pure fluff i think (very corny, very cheesy but i think it's deserved)

Words: 6k

Synopsis: Ghost wants to do things the right way…

Ignore how cringey the photo is I’m struggling

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You are currently reading chapter 7 of The Roommate Series

The first thing you noticed when you pulled the fresh and clean laundry out of the dryer was Simon’s jacket that you had snagged off the floor shortly after he had left early in the morning just a few days ago. You had debated on whether you would be able to handle washing it but the thought of leaving his bloody clothes in his hamper, sitting there as a reminder of what could’ve happened, made you want to throw up.

You had spent the last few days working the blood out of it, his shirt unfortunately unable to be saved, because you were determined to save this one piece of clothing of his. You weren’t sure why, you knew that he most likely would’ve tossed it, you’re sure he's done that with many of his clothes for the same reason, but you didn’t want it to come to that.

The jacket itself seemed pretty worn and though this was the first time you had gotten a proper look at it, your recognized that this was the jacket he always wore when he left to go to work. There wasn’t much to it, it seemed like a pretty standard coat, rain resistant that had a hood and enough layers to keep him warm, and it even had velcro patches on the arm where you had to rip off a UK flag from. 

You inspected it, making sure that the stain was truly gone and nearly smiled to yourself when you saw that there wasn’t a trace of it, before your finger poked through a hole on the fabric.

Your stomach dropped and you dared to look at the hole as you fought back against the pit in your stomach.

Part of you couldn’t believe that he had been stabbed with the full intention for him to not be able to walk back through your front door. There had been so much blood from something so violent, so traumatic and yet you were holding the jacket as if that were something completely normal.

It was normal. Normal for Simon but something completely alien to you.

Over the past few days, you hadn’t exactly been skirting around the topic of his job but you certainly didn’t bring it up even though you had a few questions. You knew how tense it made him when you asked, how panicked he got for a reason you didn’t want to ask, so for his sake you didn’t say anything.

It didn’t bother you not knowing, not in the sense that it would break up the friendship you had because you could very well live without the details. Still, that didn’t mean you weren’t curious and since he would be home for a while, you couldn’t help but think about it.

You glanced back at your room with a soft smile on your face as you stared at the closed door.

It was one of those rare moments where you had woken up before he did and it was only because he was still recovering from his injury. You would’ve stayed in bed with him, honestly it took a lot of self control to not go back to sleep in his arms when you had woken up, but you had planned to get most of your chores done so you could spend all of your time with him this weekend uninterrupted.

This was the last load of laundry you had to do and if you folded them quick enough then you could crawl back into his warmth before he woke up.

You placed the jacket into the laundry basket with some enthusiasm, the promise of falling asleep or even laying with Simon again enough to make you want to do your mundane chores.

Just as you were about to walk into the living room you felt your shirt being lightly tugged to stop you and the ghost of a touch against your lower back which caused you to shiver. 

A smile spread across your face and you turned around to see Simon.

He had just woken up. His hair was messy and his eyes were still bleary as he rubbed them, a look that a child who had just woken up set on his face as he stood in front of you bare chested but still bandaged up. You were surprised you hadn’t heard him, he wasn’t exactly as light footed as he usually was at the moment, but you were happy to see him nonetheless.

“Good morning.” You spoke lightly.

“You weren’t in bed.” He grunted and you raised the laundry basket up for him to see.

“Thought I’d start early.”

He eyed the laundry basket and you could see the thoughts racing through his mind: You shouldn’t be doing the laundry now that I’m here. I wonder if I could take the basket and fold it myself. I can’t believe laundry stole her away from me.

His eyebrows knitted together when he saw his jacket and he picked it out to the other clothes, inspecting it carefully as he made it look like a normal sized jacket in his hands. His eye went serious when he stuck his finger through the hole in it before he glanced at you.

“You didn’t have to wash it.” He said but you gave him a soft smile.

“I’m just glad I got the blood out.” You walked into the living room with him in tow as you set the basket on the floor. “Your patch should be somewhere in here.”

You searched around for the patch and when you turned around to give it to him, he was already folding the laundry. You weren’t as surprised as you thought you should’ve been considering the past few days had been a fight against him trying to do things around the house instead of resting. 

At every turn, he was trying to sweep the floors or washing the dishes or he was trying to fix something before you shooed him away. You practically had to push him back into his room or back onto the couch with threats about calling Price, who had messaged you yesterday asking about Simon’s recovery, to get him to stop pushing himself.

You had never seen him so restless before. You were worried that maybe his mind wasn’t exactly in the right place, that maybe he was fighting off the urge to hide away in his room but you also had a sneaking suspicion this was his attempt at making it up to you.

Making up to what, you weren’t entirely sure.

“Maybe I should tie you down to get you to rest.” You teased and didn’t miss the way he eyed you with a glint in his eyes. “Simon.”

“Didn’t say anything.” He didn’t look away from you as you noticed the faint hint of a smile on his features.

You couldn’t help but chuckle from the comment you made even as your face went warm. However, instead of dwelling on it and subjecting yourself to Simon’s flirting, which had been directed towards you more often than you expected these past few days, you decided to focus on the laundry. You wouldn’t get anything done today that you wanted to if you let him and you wanted to get the laundry put away.

You sat down next to him on the couch and smiled when you felt him press his thigh against yours. You put more of your weight against him in return and watched as his eyes softened while he continued to fold.

A smile pulled at your lips as you set the patch down.

“You know if you had waited, I could’ve made breakfast.” You teased and he hummed.

“I could fold while you make breakfast.” He countered and you shook your head.

“You’re allergic to giving yourself a break.”

“Slept pretty good past few nights.”

You gave him a look but he didn’t seem very phased, in fact he was a little smug about it which only made you playfully roll your eyes. You knew it was a losing battle, one that you had only won once a few nights ago, and it made you wonder if he was this stubborn with his coworkers. 

He bent down to grab the last of the items that needed to be folded and his eye twitched. You watched him fight the urge to put a hand on his side and you bit the inside of your cheek.

Simon had been recovering well considering he didn’t rest nearly as often as someone should for being stabbed and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that was because he was used to still being on the move despite any injuries he has received. The thought made you feel sick but you could only assume that the military was that brutal, especially when you assumed that’s where he got his scars.

Before you didn’t really think about them, it wasn’t your business, but now you wondered how many of them had happened in the same circumstances as his current injury. How many of them had been near death experiences? How many of them caused him to nearly bleed out? How many of them were close calls?

You heard your name being called and you blinked a few times before you realized you had been staring at his bandages. You looked up and met his eyes, watching as he gave you a sad look before he very gently took your hand into his.

“Feeling better today.” His eyes flickered down to your hand where he rubbed his thumb across your knuckles. “Just sore.”

You nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you about that, and gave his hand a quick squeeze. You let out the breath you had been holding, feeling a little less uneasy, though you found yourself glancing back at some of his scars, particularly the one so close to his eye.

You didn’t want to think of how that one happened.

The laundry was folded in no time and before you could even stand up to put it away, Simon had pulled the basket away from you, forcing you to make breakfast instead. Though, you were sure when he was finished he would make you sit so he could cook instead. 

Just as you pulled out the skillet, he walked into the kitchen and stepped into your space and looked at you expectantly while he held his hand out.

“You know I cook everyday when you’re gone.” You raised an eyebrow and watched him scowl.

“Now I’m home.” He argued and gestured for you to give him the skillet.

You handed him the skillet before you pulled out the food from the fridge, avoiding the arm that he was about to put out to stop you from going back to the stove. You watched the inner turmoil inside of him, the urge to fight you about this butting heads with the urge to let you do as you pleased before he conceded and let you stay beside him. 

You gave him a triumphant smile that caused him to scoff before the two of you began to cook together.

“So what do you want to do today?” You wondered as you added a pinch of spices into the breakfast. “We could go on a walk or stay in if you’re not up for anything outside.”

Simon was silent for a moment and you glanced at him to see that he had a very concentrated look on his face as he stared at the skillet. He almost instinctively leaned closely to you, your shoulders pressed against each other as his knuckles turned white, and you couldn’t help but lean into him as well as you waited patiently for him to speak.

When you put pressure against him, his eyes darted towards you before he looked away from you quickly. He shifted on his feet and let out a short breath before he looked back at you with hidden fear in his eyes.

“Was thinking maybe we could go on a date.” 

You blinked a few times as you stared at him with wide eyes, unable to say anything as the words failed to come to you. You couldn’t quite believe how forward he had just been about it, considering the most forward he had been was when he pinned you to the counter just a few nights ago, but this was entirely different than that. 

This was a date, not your first ever, but the first one you would have with Simon.

The emotions bubbling up inside of your stomach were almost too much for you as the giddiness surged through your veins and made you feel hot all over. You could hardly breathe, like all of the air inside your lungs had been stolen as you struggled to even think of a reply.

“Yes! I would love that.” You grinned after a moment and couldn’t stop.

Simon let out a deep breath and his once tense shoulders relaxed as he nodded, looking incredibly relieved by your answer before he ran a hand through his hair. He still avoided looking at you as the tips of his ear turned red as he focused on cooking breakfast instead of letting it burn.

“Great.” He said and you waited for him to say more as he plated the food made for the both of you.

Normally you would’ve been patient, knowing that Simon took his time to think of what to say, but you were too excited about the thought of going on a date with him.

“What are we doing? What did you have in mind?” You couldn’t help but stare at him with wide eyes as he sat across from you.

“Dinner. At a restaurant.” He looked almost unsure as he stared at, gauging your reaction to his suggestion as if his life depended on it.

You couldn’t help the grin split across your face even though you were quite surprised by the fact that he wanted to take you out. You were expecting him to suggest making you dinner inside the apartment, much like how his birthday had been spent, which would’ve been perfectly fine for you, but this made you even more excited. 

You didn’t even care what restaurant it was or even if the two of you didn’t get any food, you just wanted to go out with him.

Simon’s face fell with relief and he couldn’t help but smile as well, which you were sure made you both look like idiots. He let out a short sigh and began eating and you started talking, a lot more than usual, but he didn’t say anything to get you to stop.

You were too excited to really care anyway. You had thought a few times in the past about whether anything could come from being romantically involved with Simon and you thought about it even more since the night he had kissed you. You wondered if there would actually be something since he had never once talked about dating someone before or even looked interested in someone in the three years that you had known him.

Before you had wondered if maybe he just wasn’t somebody who wanted a partner and though it was a hard pill to swallow you had decided that whatever would happen would happen. It made your chest warm now that you knew he did want something, that he was trying to have something even though maybe he had it before. 

It was hard for you to wait for this evening, in fact it took everything in you to not tell him to just take you out right now. 

One look at Simon said he was feeling the same. 

You don’t remember a time before this moment where he looked this happy. Even though he wasn’t smiling as big as you or talking all that differently, you could see how much brighter his usual tired eyes were and how his shoulders had relaxed significantly since he had come home. 

He glanced up at you from his plate and your eyes met briefly but it was enough to nearly knock the wind out of your chest.

You always found comfort in his dark eyes. You knew that he had seen things that many others haven’t and yet he always managed to look at you softly. It had become something that you always looked for and even in this moment you looked for it, but you didn’t find it.

Instead you saw only what you could imagine was pure adoration. His eyes were incredibly warm even for someone who always gave you that safety. You knew he wasn’t someone who was very affectionate, even recently as your relationship changed so you never would’ve expected him to look at you any different. You tried to write it off as your mind playing tricks on you since you were overjoyed about going on a date with him, but when he spared you another glance as he took both of your plates to wash them, there was no mistaking it.

All you could see in his eyes was love.

~

You lost track of how many times you looked at yourself in the mirror, checking to make sure that your entire outfit and your makeup looked perfect. Never in your three years of living with Simon had you ever been worried about your appearance, even after you figured out your feelings for him, but when you needed that confidence, it was nowhere to be seen.

A dinner date. An official one, one that you had been properly asked out on by the very person you were in love with, which not only made you feel like you were on top of the world but had caused you to put some unseen pressure on yourself.

You didn’t want to let him down, you didn’t want to disappoint him and yet you couldn’t help but feel incredibly foolish for feeling so nervous about a simple dinner date. It wasn’t like you had never eaten dinner with him, in fact he was really the only other person you ate dinner with other than the occasional going out with friends, so in your mind there was no reason why you should be freaking out.

However you couldn’t help the fact that you saw every imperfection with your outfits to the point where you had changed at least four times already. You were trying hard to not work yourself up and as you looked in the mirror, you couldn’t help but think you didn’t look that good.

You glanced at the clock and clenched your jaw. 

There wasn’t that much time left and you didn’t want to make him wait but you were too conflicted about your outfit. You let out a short huff and weren't to change again when there was a knock at your door that had you holding your hands tightly together.

You should’ve known that he would want to go early just in case there was an emergency or some crazy reason why you both wouldn’t be able to get there on time. 

“Hold on!” You called out and made sure that you looked presentable.

You tried not to be harsh on yourself since you wanted to have fun but unfortunately, your mind wasn’t having it. Instead of showing that however, you opened the door with a smile, one that grew at the sight of Simon on the other side of the door.

He was dressed up in a black button down shirt that you didn’t even know he owned but looked quite nice in nonetheless. He had cut his hair and even shaved off the stubble on his face, making himself look more put together, though you wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t since to you he looked pretty every day. 

Despite that, the effort made your heart swell, especially when you caught a whiff of cologne, that you also didn’t know he owned, mixed with his regular smell which had all thoughts pushed out of your mind.

Fuck, he smells really nice.

Simon stared at you and stepped closer to you, leaning into your space and taking over your senses with him. You could feel his warm breath on you as his eyes bounced around your face, spending just the right amount of time on the details he wanted to look at.

He was breathing slightly heavier and you saw his arm twitch as he nearly brought his hand up for a second before he swallowed hard.

You waited with bated breath for him to say something, anything at this point. You wanted him to reassure you that whatever was going in your head was a lie, that the weather was nice, or that his shirt was scratchy. His silence never bothered you, even now, but you desperately wanted him to say something just so you could find enough courage with his voice to push away your nervousness.

“You look nice.” You breathed out and watched as his eyes flicker to your lips. “I didn’t know you owned a shirt like that.”

Simon cleared his throat and absentmindedly rubbed a hand across his shirt as he took a step back. He nodded and it looked as though he were struggling to find the words as he looked at you so instead he put his attention to the door frame beside him.

“The old man got it for me.” He glanced back at you and he seemed to lose his voice. “You look…lovely.”

“Yeah? You think so?” You gave him an unsure smile because even though you didn’t want to make it seem like you were fishing for compliments, there was still that part of your mind that couldn’t stop thinking poorly.

“Yes.”

He looked sincere and serious as he stared at all of you. You had rarely ever seen him this serious and you wondered if maybe he had seen the insecurity written across your face or maybe in your eyes no matter how hard you tried to hide it. The look on his face made you sigh softly before a genuine smile spread across your face and you felt the ugly thoughts wash away from your mind.

“Thank you.”

You grabbed everything you needed and made sure that your outfit was put in place before you walked to the living room with Simon in tow. You went through a checklist with him, one that you knew wasn’t necessary since he had most likely ran through it multiple times in his head but you did it anyway.

You were about to walk out of the door when he stopped you.

“Shoes.” He gestured to your feet and you looked down at your feet with raised eyebrows.

“That would’ve been embarrassing.” You laughed and went to put your shoes on before he stopped you.

Simon didn’t say anything to you as he kneeled down and began to put your shoes on for you. You stared at him dumbfounded as your heart fluttered for a moment while he made sure they were on correctly and comfortably. 

He gave your ankle a soft squeeze when he was finished and set your foot down before he stood up. He gave you a quick glance before he grabbed what he needed after taking your wallet from you since he insisted on paying. He brushed his knuckles against your arm as he stepped past you and opened the door for you.

Your eyes softened and you couldn’t help but place a hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze as well, before you stepped outside with him right behind.

The ride to the restaurant wasn’t long but the both of you talked the entire way. It was easy conversation and for a moment you were content with just spending your time with him speaking about whatever came to mind. There was nothing different about it when you normally spoke to him, especially now since he had been home for longer than he had been before.

When he parked at the restaurant, you gave him an unsure look as you saw that it was one of the more expensive ones in town that you had always wanted to try but never had enough money for since you were a college student.

You couldn’t say anything as he helped you out of the car rendered speechless by the fact that he took you here for your first date. 

You entered the restaurant, followed closely behind by two other patrons, and made your way to a booth towards the back.

The dimly lit restaurant was beautiful in your opinion and you wondered if maybe he had been here before or if this was new for him. You were still speechless about everything until you opened the menu and saw the prices, which nearly made you grimace.

“Simon, are you sure?” You asked softly as you gave him an uncertain look that had his eyebrows knitting together.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He stared at you and studied your face as if he were gauging to see if you needed to leave.

“It’s a little expensive.”

His eyes softened as he set the menu down for a moment and placed a hand on your wrist before giving you a gentle squeeze that had you letting out a sigh.

“I’ve got the money for it.” He reassured you and made sure that your worries were gone before he went back to looking at the menu.

You hummed, a question popping into your head but you were unsure if you should ask it. A server came and took your orders while you ruminated, wondering if you could say something or if it was better to leave it alone. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, not during a dinner where the two of you were going to enjoy delicious food and each other's company.

Simon tapped your foot with his and when you met his eyes, he gave you a look. His face had turned serious and it was easy to tell that he knew what you were thinking about. 

His shoulder did tense, but instead of looking angry or nervous, he gave you a short nod for you to go ahead and say what you wanted to.

“So you get paid well at your job.” You began, almost skirting around the question which you knew he didn’t like, but you decided to anyway.

“Not that much, enough to pay rent and eat.” He shrugged and rubbed his thumb across his water glass. “Sorry to crush your dreams.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at his teasing, watching a small smile pull at his lips as his eyes flicker to yours. You scolded him lightly and though you wanted to tell him that you could care less if he had money or not, that you didn’t even question him about what his job was for three years, you decided not to.

Instead, you gathered enough courage to ask the real question on your mind, one that had been in your mind since John, Kyle, and Price had showed up at your shared apartment. It made you a little nervous as you fidgeted with your discarded straw wrapper.

“What rank are you?” You asked, chuckling nervously to yourself as that didn’t really sound right coming out of your mouth. “Is that how it works?”

“I’m a lieutenant.” He was straight to the point with a serious look in his eyes and you nodded slowly with indifference.

“And that’s good?”

Simon raised an eyebrow and you gave him a sheepish smile. It was clear you didn’t know as much as he assumed and you watched his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. He shifted in his seat slightly as he stared at you, looking for something in your eyes but when he didn’t see it he continued. 

“Means I’m good at my job.” He said matter of factly and you felt your chest warm at his confidence. “I can tell Johnny and Kyle what to do when Price can’t.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re bossy.” You teased, more of his behavior making sense to you now that you knew, and he sent you a look.

“I’m not bossy.”

It was your turn to send him a look as you raised an eyebrow, watching as he didn’t concede on that blatant lie. Simon just as stubborn as he was a little bossy, but he was never forceful or mean and always seemed to have the best interest in mind, which you always thought was him just being willing to do everything, which was still true, but now it was because he was used to telling people what to do.

Luckily for you if you told him to stop he would. You weren’t sure if John or Kyle had that luxury.

“You are a little bit.” You said but you didn’t make it sound like a bad thing which made him sigh with relief. “Especially when you want to do everything in the apartment.”

“That’s what I did before you moved in.” He told you and you shook your head.

It was a bad excuse.

When you had first moved in, when he was home, Simon would do everything around the apartment because of that. He had a routine he told you about and how he stuck to it even with you added to the equation, but after a year or so of you living with him he had dropped it.

This was something different.

Whether it be because he wanted to make up something to you or for another reason you weren’t sure, but you knew that he was doing this out of routine.

You were about to ask him why as your food was served and nearly did before he stopped you.

“I like…taking care of you.”

For a moment it was like the world had stopped. You stared at him with wide eyes as your entire body grew warm and you bit on your bottom lip. You blinked a few times, unsure of what to say as he stared at you with worried eyes as if he had said something wrong. You were so overwhelmed by the good feeling that washed over you, having never expected him to admit that outloud, that you were holding  yourself back from rushing around to the other side of the table to kiss him.

You wanted to. Your hands itched and suddenly your legs went restless as you felt the urge to shower him with as much love as you could before he got tired of it.

Simon pulled his hands into his lap and looked almost embarrassed for having said it but he didn’t look away from you.

“You shouldn’t have to do those things when I’m back.” He said softly and you managed to pull yourself out of your shock to give him a sad smile.

“You shouldn’t overwork yourself.” You countered, knowing how hard his job had to be, and he frowned.

“You do everything when I’m gone.”

“And I’m okay with that.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue with you but didn’t say anything. You saw that look, the one full of guilt he had given you the night had come back home and you felt your heart ache ever so slightly.

You scooted out of the booth, ignoring the confused look on his face, as you pushed your plate to his side and scooted in next to him. You gave him a warm smile as he made room for you, breathing in the good way he smelt, before you pressed your thigh against his in a way to comfort him without overwhelming him.

“We can do stuff together.” You suggested, though there was little room for negotiating, and began to eat your food. “It doesn’t have to be all on you.”

Simon was silent for a long moment as he stared at you but you didn’t mind. You could tell he was thinking as the guilt didn’t necessarily disappear from his eyes but was lessened as he put more of his weight against you.

He let out a soft sigh when your eyes met with each other and you watched them soften again as he got that adoring look that made you feel like you were on top of the world. 

He began to eat as well, staying quiet for a few moments before he hesitantly placed a hand on top of your thigh that made you shiver.

“Spend more time together.” He nodded and it made you smile as you placed your hand on top of his.

“Doing the little things.” You added with a soft voice rubbed your thumb across his knuckles.

“Normal things.”

The two of you ate and talked for a long time, you weren’t sure how long you had been in the restaurant but neither of you had cared in the slightest. It didn’t matter, not to you as you felt incredibly happy to just be with Simon. The food was so good that you both ended up taking leftovers after you had joked he had to take you there for every date from now on, though you were sure he’d really do it if you wanted him to.

You held onto his hand as you walked out of the restaurant, accidentally bumping the patrons who had walked in after you, and didn’t let go until you were in the car. You smiled the entire way back home that your cheeks hurt by the time you were getting ready for bed.

The two of you went through your regular routine and you were so ready to crawl into bed beside him you nearly skipped everything entirely. 

You felt Simon place a hand on your lower back when you were drying your face off from washing it and when you looked up from the towel to give him a smile, he gave you one back.

You were about to ask him if everything was okay when he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, causing you to lean into him.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered in your ear as he caressed your cheek.

“I just washed my face.” You giggled and he hummed as he pressed another kiss to your cheek. 

“Doesn’t matter.”

You pulled back and shook your head as he continued to caress your face. You leaned into his touch and watched as his eyes flickered to your lips which made you give him a coy look, knowing exactly what he was thinking about.

“There something you want?” You teased and he scoffed as he glanced up into your eyes.

“Heard it was bad to kiss on the first date.” There was a glint in his eyes as he stepped closer to you.

You raised an amused eyebrow and gave him an expectant look as you waited for him to close the gap between the both of you. When he didn’t you pursed your lips in a fake pout when you realized he was waiting for you to tell him he can kiss you.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” You faked a sigh. “Maybe I want one as well.”

“Be kinda bad if I didn’t then.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Simon pulled you into him and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. He sighed when your lips met as he wrapped his arms around you to keep you secure to chest while you wrapped your arms around his neck. He very gently bit your bottom lip as one of his hands moved to your hip and he stuck his tongue inside when you let him.

You could taste every word that he said through the kiss, every feeling that he must’ve had trouble saying during the date and it only made your heart swell. You kissed him back, hoping that he would know everything you wanted to tell him too.

The way he made you feel like you were everything, the way things always felt good when he was home even when it was the bad days. It took everything in you to not utter those three words when you broke apart from the kiss…

I love you.

Link to part 8

A/N: I’ve been mean with the angst so I figured the best way to balance it out would be give y’all a little date. Excuse the poor dialogue i tried to write flirting but i have no flirting skills

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

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[milky-aeons]

𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and ranpo edogawa; what their honeymoon would be like.

warnings: marriage, female reader, wife reader, sexual content for dazai, kunikida and chuuya, mentions of death, bondage, swearing, mentions of vomiting, alcohol intake, mdni, w.c 4.2k

𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

To honeymoon after one's wedding was not as practiced in Japan as it was the western world — however, Dazai, of course, jumped at any opportunity to slack off from work. A week away from the city with his newly married wife sounded right up the agent's alley.

And when Dazai Osamu was given an inch, he always strove to take a mile.

"Kunikida-kun is going to kill you when we get back, Dazai." You scolded your husband sitting at your side. But when you turned to him, attempting to pin him down with a look, you just couldn't help the sides of your lips curling into a smile. "Like — actually kill you, this time."

Dazai rolled his head, humming a musical sound. "To have my life ended under the cold, bony hands of an Idealist. How could you even speak those words, my love?"

"Only you would find a way to convince the President that a week away in Okinawa would be good for two of his agents. Paid all inclusively, too. What did you call it?" You quirked an eyebrow. "Sand resistance and underwater training?"

The briny sea air teased at his loose shirt and wild, unkempt curls, making him look like a divinity — a mythical creature of the ocean. Both of you sat side by side on the coast's cool sands; sipping from a bottle of sake, watching the sunset bleed the sky into twilight. After spending the day full of adventurous activities; wandering nature trails, stopping for a late-afternoon lunch under the canopy of marine trees, only to take each other by the hand and venture through the Churaumi aquarium's glass blue halls — you both had been content to cuddle up and watch the stars, that evening. Listening to the lull of the sea, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Dazai cocked his head in that funny little way he always did. "Is that not what we're doing?"

"Of course," You agreed, and then leaned over to poke the tip of his nose. His surprised little blink almost had your heart melting into a puddle. "And tomorrow, I expect you up bright and early, because we have an extra strenuous day of whale watching to attend."

Dazai leaned in, as if you were both sharing a secret, and touched his warm forehead against yours. It made your pulse flutter; the shade of his eyes, so complex when he was this close. They softened into something a lot more sultry. "Hmm? Whale watching? I was under the impression our schedule was already taken up tomorrow, though."

"Oh?" You smiled, your breath mingling. "Do divulge me, Osamu."

That was when he went for you. Pouncing with the agility of a leopard, a beast, until he had pulled you against his lean body and you were both rolling around in the sand — shrieking and chuckling.

"I am to accompany my beautiful princess bride on a mission that could mean life or death! World dominion or forever peace! The very nature of things hangs in the balance and I have the key to it, right in my very hands!"

"Osamu—you're—!" You chortled. "Stop! You'll get sand in my ears!"

He brought your rolling bodies to a halt with you laying flush against him. There was mirth dancing in his eyes, his face — looking at you like he was a teenager in love for the very first time. He pouted playfully.

"You don't want to hear my master plan to save the world?"

"You just don't want to go whale watching."

"Hmm~" He purred, and you felt those long fingers begin to trail up your thighs — so sensitive, almost completely bare to him underneath the cotton beach skirt you wore. They drew languid, mind-numbing circles that traced a picture of fire from your thighs, the small back, your thighs again. You found yourself arching back instinctively into them.

Dazai craned his neck up then — just so he could trail his lips against the shell of your ear and whisper, "Because I am much more inclined to hear someone else moan for me all day, instead."

The last of his words were accompanied with his palms coming down on your ass, squeezing possessively — the shock of it lurching you forward a little. You gasped, and he revelled in it. You could see it in the way his tawny eyes darkened into a promising mahogany. Whenever Dazai looked at you like that, it eddied any and all coherent thoughts from your mind. Just like the first time you met him, the second, the millionth, you'd never tire from marvelling in your husband's beauty. Both on his gorgeous face and inside his well-protected soul.

You just had to peel back each and every layer he had learned to build up until you coaxed it out. But you would wait — for him, you would wait a lifetime.

Chuckling a heady sound, you leaned down, ghosting your lips over his parted ones. When he shifted up to try and connect your mouths together — you were mean. You pulled just out of his reach, grinning a wicked, vixen-like smile.

"All day?" You challenged. "But—oh—!"

A yelp tore from your throat when Dazai startled you by surging foreword and rolling until you were beneath him; trapped underneath his long, caging arms. His bangs tickled your face when he pitched forward to arrest you in his intense stare. Holding so much weight, so much promise, that it sent a thousand sparks of pleasure racing from the crown of your head right to the tips of your toes.

"Every day, my beautiful wife."

You didn't think either of you could wait until then.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 . . .

After the rather formal affair that was you and Kunikida Doppo's wedding; a honeymoon was far removed from your mind. So you were surprised, when your new husband approached you one morning, two long-distance train tickets held firmly in his grip. The ledgers are already taken care of, he had assured you when protests rose on your tongue, you needn't worry. There is enough staff to cover our absence.

There was something — something fiercely intense in his eyes when he had said those words, too. Of course, your husband Kunikida Doppo was a fierce man by nature; it was one of the many things you had learned to love about him. But then, you had been unable to place the heat in his eyes, the way his body strained towards you — as if holding some monstrous part of himself back.

You had been unable to place it — that was, until now.

His naked body stalked around the foot of the bed — soft, buttery light throwing all of his defined muscles into focus. The curtains of this private suite were decorated with cotton and cashmere, letting as much natural light into the room as possible while still offering you two some privacy. In fact, one of the drapes from your bathroom window were missing — but that was because it had been wound tightly around your wrists, pinning you to the headboard.

"One hundred and forty-five." Kunikida spoke suddenly.

Through your lust addled mind, you tried to parse his words. Your brows came down over confused eyes. "W-What?"

He stopped, snapping his Ideal book closed in one hand. And when he turned towards you — God, your tongue pasted to the roof of your mouth. He was marvellous. He was breath-taking — his blond hair let loose around his shoulders, the length of him standing stiff and erect for you to see.

"One hundred and forty-five," He repeated. The mattress dipped when he leaned one knee against it, then the other. "That is the amount of days which have passed since I had the first indecent thought about you."

He might as well already be touching you — the way those words instructed a shiver to race down your bare skin. Kunikida pitched forward so he was on all fours now — and with savouring slowness, he began to crawl towards you.

"O-Oh?" Was the only coherent thing you could get out. Your eyes darted all over him, you tried to rub your thighs together to garner some type of friction since he was so adamant to tease you. Kunikida's quick-silver eyes noticed the movement, however, and reached a large hand out. He flattened it on the bare skin of your thigh; a silent command for you to be still.

Frustrated, you levelled a heated glare at him, huffing, "This is no way to treat your new wife."

"Believe me," Kunikida's tone was controlled — always controlled, but you delighted in the fact that his lips twitched into a smile. "I have every intention of treating my wife very well, indeed."

Your breasts strained taut when he came to settle himself just over you and leaned up — bracketing your hips with those strong thighs. Ever since he had gotten your clothes off; Kunikida Doppo could not stop himself from just looking at you. An extremely controlling part of him was overcome with the mind-consuming urge to lock you up and keep you all for himself. But he knew he could not do that. So here he would revel, every moment he could, in you flushed and bare beneath him. Begging him with your eyes to touch you, to relieve that ache only he had caused.

Shit, Kunikida Doppo thought when he looked down at you, he'd pay only the finest artist to paint you like this. But then he'd have to rip their damn hand off.

He reached a hand out to trail it against your twitching tummy muscles. The hand which brandished that newly crafted gold band.

"It was exactly 11:48am, Tuesday the 7th," Kunikida murmured in a deep, throaty voice. His eyes glazed over as he trailed his fingers all over you — from your naval to your breastbone to letting them dance across the planes of your face. "When you walked into the main office with a large stack of reports a certain someone has been slackin' on. You bent over — in that tight little skirt you always wear," He inhaled, dragging your bottom lip gently with his thumb. "And I was overcome."

"O-Overcome?" You echoed. If he kept this up, you were very certain your new husband would make your heart burst out of your chest. You burned, you needed him like your air, like the blood roaring in your ears.

Kunikida leaned in close enough until he was all you could see. He dropped his voice, and the words rumbled out of his chest.

"Overcome with the need to bend you against the table and fuck you, right then and there."

A small whimper climbed up your throat. Like a butterfly, caught and pinned against a board, you fluttered restlessly beneath him. Kunikida placed the softest kisses against your skin; but you could feel the tension that tremored underneath his marble skin. He was taking his time. He was adamant to keep you here for as long as possible just to savour you, over and over again.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

"And now," You whispered, hot and needy, against him. "You have me right where you want me, Kunikida."

Your husband groaned and began to roll his hips against you — absolutely unable to help himself when you said those words. Gasping, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you were barely lucid enough to hear him growl out the words;

"And you'll always have me at your mercy, darling."

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 . . .

You and Atsushi had decided to get married under the gentle blossoms of springtime, but it had always been your dream to escape on a winter's honeymoon. Of course, when you broached the topic with him a couple of weeks before the ceremony, Atsushi took some time to gradually warm to the idea. He had never been out of the country, after all, and the thought of boarding a metal tube that soared thousands of feet in the air definitely did not appeal to his feline side.

"It's... so it doesn't stop off, somewhere?" He had asked you with those adorable wide eyes. "What if I need to pee?"

His country naivety was all too amusing to you — a warm grin brightened your face, and to stifle the chuckle, you buried into his silver hair, instead.

"There are toilets on the plane. And refreshments, and seats." You replied to him. "Besides, there'd be nowhere for us to stop off. We'd have to cross over the ocean, after all."

"T-The ocean?!"

The Harbin Ice and Snow festival held its open ceremony a few months after you and Atsushi's marriage, but once you got there, you knew it had been well worth the wait. The city was crafted with ice structures and snowy castles, illuminated by floodlights that coloured them all different shades. Both bundled in layers, you and your husband walked side-by-side through them, warming the other's hand. Atsushi bought you a delicious hot chocolate to share, and never missed the chance to kiss the cream off of your face.

"I have no idea how you're not wearing gloves," You said to him one evening as you strolled around the resort. From here, the blanketed mountains stood stark against the night sky, littered with evergreen trees. Each step you took crunched the snow beneath you.

"Ah," Atsushi piqued. He then lifted his hands to show them to you, and when you inspected them closer; you noticed that he had coated them in a thick layer of tiger fur. "Ta-dah!"

The funny sight caught you so off guard that you doubled over giggling. "What a convenient talent. I wish I could do that when I get cold!"

"You know I would if I could," He said, the warm sincerity of it coming to hug around you like your very own blanket. "But there's something that I can do."

"Oh?" You leaned up to regard your new husband — only to realise that he was no longer by your side. Instead, he had taken a few strides ahead, leaning forward onto all fours in that familiar position he took before an ability activation. Whoosh, the snow whipped up to bite your cheeks, the entire landscape was drowned out in the supernatural blue light as he shifted from man to beast.

The bands of light exploded to leave him in their remnants — only bigger, furrier, and so much more deadly. Not an ounce of fear touched your body, however — because even though standing in his place was a monstrous weretiger that prowled towards you; those were still Atsushi's eyes. The tender bump he gave you with his head still belonged to the person who had Atsushi's soul — your Atsushi.

You carded your fingers lovingly through his coat. "Hello, there." You murmured, taking his big head in your hands and scratching behind his ears. "What brings you here, Mr. Weretiger?"

Atsushi's honey-gold eyes held yours for a moment. Then, he made a swishing movement with his head — an indication for you to follow. You knitted your eyebrows, initially confused at what he wanted when he couldn't use human speech — but when he lay down in the snow and made his back easier for you to reach, you suddenly realised.

"Oh, okay." You hummed, manoeuvring to the side of his massive body and hiking your leg up. Shifting, you found a comfortable sitting position on his back. But not before you cuddled into his soft fur a little. "You are so warm, no wonder you don't need gloves."

His great big lungs reverberated when he spoke something you couldn't understand. Atsushi padded the snow — an indication that he was going to move, letting you know to hold on tight — before straightening up to his full height.

Then, he was running.

Galloping through the snow scape like you weighed absolutely nothing at all — the wind ripping through your hair, smattering your cheeks in little flecks of snowflakes. You gripped on tight to his coat, feeling the wild rush of adrenaline spike in your blood. His great big paws ate up the distance with agility, with grace. As easy and breathing for him in this form. You held on tight to your husband's body when he hopped from rock to rock, from tree to tree, taking you through your very own winter wonderland on a night you'd never forget.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

After the unholy shitshow — as your husband eloquently puts it — that was your wedding reception, it was safe to assume that Chuuya Nakahara was adamant to get out of the country in order to spend a few days alone with you. Somewhere extremely far away. And what better place was there, than the classy city of romance and wine?

He had been cunning in the preparations, refusing to reveal anything until it was the evening you scheduled to fly out on one of the Port Mafia's private air jets. Sure; the plane had been in regular use to smuggle large shipments of drugs across the Japanese border, but Chuuya had gone to touching lengths in order to make it special for you.

The inside was completely cleaned out and lavished with first-class opulence. When you stood in the hanger, suitcase in tow, you couldn't believe how beautiful he had made it look. And when he handed you a flute of fizzing champagne before boarding, he pulled you in by the waist; kissed you on the cheek, and said, are ya ready to see the real Eiffel Tower, sweetheart?

The sheer beauty of Paris was all you needed to make up for the long-haul flight over. Each building towered above you; beige stonework, panelled windows, the smell of fresh baked goods and coffee in the air. Chuuya walked with his hand on your back through the winding cobblestone walkways. He did not complain once when you spent hours busying around the shopping district La Vallée, gushing at all the quaint boutiques and bakeries. He bought as many pastries as your heart so desired. And on your last night, he told you to wear your finest dress, and took you on a boat ride around the city.

"This mustn't have been good for your bank account," You pouted, leaning over the side of the boat to admire the glossy river water. "Even for you."

Chuuya popped a piece of steak into his mouth. One eyebrow quirked. "I thought I told ya never to worry about money when you're with me, doll. Even more so now that you're my wife."

My wife, you closed your eyes, savouring the sound of it wearing his voice like the meal in front of you. It still sounded so foreign — a little out of place, when you had just gotten used to being to as the General's fiancée. When you opened your eyes, you allowed yourself a few seconds to marvel at the man who worked to make all your desires come true — and not because he had to, but because he wanted to, he loved to.

Chuuya's blue eyes twinkled underneath the fairy lights that hung from the boat's canopy. "What?"

You beckoned to all the other empty seats around you. "How did you manage to rent an entire boat for just the two of us, though?"

At that, your husband's lips lifted into a wide, vulpine smile. The type that made delicious heat lick down your spine.

"Do ya object to being on this big boat all alone with me, sweetheart?"

The heat cascading down your spine spread its fingers — until it was all over you, reaching the tips of your cheeks, the skin of your chest left exposed by the open dress. You swallowed, not breaking the eye contact, and placed your fork down with very precise movements.

You purposefully flicked your hair behind your shoulder — exposing your collarbone, the long column of your neck.

"Quite the contrary, my beautiful husband. In fact, I think the rocking could make riding you senseless feel extra good, if that was even possible."

There was a heartbeat where Chuuya didn't move. And then, the table was knocked to one side, there was a harsh clatter of metal and plates and his chair scraping against the deck when he surged for you.

You shrieked in delight when you felt his hands on your hips — hoisting you swiftly from the terrace chair and into his arms. Guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, you were held securely against him, looping your arms around his neck as he made quick work of the ships decking and down the stairs into your private bedroom.

When you both resurfaced onto the deck for some fresh air, you were blissfully unaware that the sun had risen and it had already become morning — but the crewmates definitely were.

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 (𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃) 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐏𝐎 . . .

When your newly-wed husband Ranpo Edogawa pitched the idea of a honeymoon in Tokyo; initially, you were quite sceptical. Tokyo was a city packed with people and, God forbid; a very advanced transport system. Whatever could your particular partner want in the bustling capital of your country?

Roller-coaster rides and donuts and mickey mouse ears, apparently.

He was such a child at heart, you thought fondly as you watched him flutter around the food stalls at Tokyo's Disneyland Resort, pointing at all the colourful sweets he wanted to try. You suppose Ranpo never really had the opportunity to have a childhood; being hunted for his mind and hopping from job to job just to survive before he met the President. And you cherished that part of him. Your heart grew twice its size when he returned to you, a chest-full of of packaged goods and two sticks of candyfloss.

"According to my Deductions," Your husband boasted, thrusting the candy floss out to you. "Poo's Honey Hunt is the next attraction which will have the least amount of waiting time."

You took your candyfloss carefully from him. "Of course. Although do you think it's a good idea to go riding when you have a stomach full of sweets, Ranpo?"

He leaned back and guffawed. "Pwah! Nothing is impossible for the World's Greatest Detective!"

It turned out that spinning in a plastic honey pot one too many times was a little too much for the World's Greatest Detective, after all. You rubbed soothing circles against your husband's back and held his cape out of the way as he upheaved into a colourful trashcan the moment he stepped off of the ride. You hushed anything he tried to say, instead guiding him to sit with you by the riverside — watching the fairy tale boats float on by until the nausea subsided.

A bottle of water and a handful of pastries later; Ranpo Edogawa was right back on his feet again, dragging you by the hand to the next attraction with excited, skipping steps.

And when the sun dipped low behind the bright pink castle that was a landmark to the grounds and the sky darkened into twilight, your forever partner guided you across a beautiful bridge closed off to the public for the rest of the evening. Of course, you scolded him with each step, telling him that this would get you both in a world of trouble. Only for him to turn around and wink, assuring, the stewards only patrol this area of the park every quarter of an hour. We have at least twenty minutes until anybody will be near this area again.

"Ranpo, darling, I love you," You said to him, stepping over the foliage and onto the bridge painted with bright gold — mimicking those found in story books. "But if we get fined for this, I am taking away all of your sweet stash for at least a month."

He twirled around to face you when you came to a stop in the centre of the bridge; his hands folded behind his back. His tongue stuck out. "Boo. You wouldn't be able to figure out the code."

"You doubt the mind of a wife who is angry." You cooed, but were completely unable to help the smile that tickled your lips. You were like two schoolkids; sneaking around in a no-trespass area trying not to get caught. Although you didn't understand the entire reason as to why you were stalking around a closed area of the park late at night.

You decided to question him, tilting your head. "Remind me, why is it that we're slinking around Tinkerbell's Garden and running the risk of getting caught, again?"

Your question was left hanging when Ranpo decided to keep his lips shut. Instead, he lifted three fingers up in the air. You watched with knitted brows as he brought down one — leaving two left. Then, brought down the other. And just as he let the final finger close into his fist, there was a shrill whistle, a tail of sparks flying through the night—

BOOM!

The most brilliant firework exploded in the sky.

You gasped, turning to look above the canopy that hid you both. Boom, there was another — a brilliant explosion of red and yellow. Boom, boom, two at the same time. You were arrested in place, marvelling at the light show that sent a thousand sparkles reflecting in your eyes.

Warmth. Skin. Ranpo's hand coming to intertwine with yours. His soft lips ghosting your temple, whispering the words so sweet;

"They're almost just as beautiful as you, my wonderful wife."

ღ . . . the bsd men ON THEIR WEDDING DAY

✎ . . . requested by wonderful nonnie!

WRITING REQUESTS

[bratphilia]

Heyyyy so I was the person that requested more fics like the flip side (it’s 6 am and I can’t remember if that’s what it’s actually called atm) but I was thinking about possibly a situation where reader has a history with William possibly when they worked at Freddy’s before they shut down and were younger (still of age though; I’m thinking probably when they like reopened for a little bit in the early 90s). Now in the I guess present day they aren’t exactly going out with mike but maybe they are a babysitter and mike and reader are pining over each other?? But him working there brings up bad past memories of your time there but you don’t really want to tell mike.

Honestly looking for lots of tension, slow burn, pining, and angst but not too much angst yk and ofc nsfw

Sorry if this is like too specific or whatever but this has been on my mind for sure

note: i did some age calculating to fit with the timeline so reader is 18 in 1993 and 25 (the same age as mike) in 2000. creds to michy for convincing me this was actually post-worthy.

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader x mike schmidt

tags: threesome, rough sex, dub/con, age difference

taglist: @dilfity

triangle (w. afton x reader x m. schmidt)

(in november, 1993, you're a fresh hire at freddy's and the youngest adult on the staff at eighteen years old. it's not an ideal workplace by any means, but it's decent compared to other jobs that you most definitely didn't qualify for. and the people at freddy's are nice! maybe a little too nice, but the motto for the employees was "remember to smile, you're the face of the company" after all.

you work mainly as a waitress. you would say you're pretty good at your job. you're nice to the customers and work surprisingly well with the kids. the uniform is admittedly cute, too. red vest and a black pencil skirt. your skirt, for some reason, came in a bit too small prompting a few lingering glances from employees and patrons, but besides that you don't really mind.

it's a cold, rainy day in autumn. you wish you were wearing pants, but for once you're thankful for the lack of air conditioning in the restaurant. it's closing time and you're heading back to the employees room to grab your jacket and umbrella. you sit on the red, metal bench waiting for your sister expectantly. you never bothered to get your own license because she's always been a reliable source for rides everywhere. tonight was not one of those days. it's been at least an hour. your leg bounces up and down.

you hear the doors shut and a jingle of keys, and the distant scent of cigarette smoke lingers. you turn to see your boss, mr. afton, locking up the restaurant. he turns to you too, clearly confused why you're still here. "shouldn't you be home by now?"

you swing your legs and sigh. "my ride never showed."

he clicks his tongue and looks out to the parking lot, then looks back at you. "why don't i take you home?" you realize in this moment you and mr. afton have never quite really spoke. he's one of the thirty-something-year old owners of freddy's. he wears the springbonnie suit sometimes and performs with the co-owner, mr. emily, for the kids on fridays and saturdays. he's very charismatic and sociable, but mainly with the older crowd of the employees at freddy's. you hear some of your colleagues whispering about him, how he's such a kind and handsome man, which, as you're getting a good look at him right now, the latter is definitely true.

"are you sure?" you ask. mr. afton smiles down at you.

"sure thing. follow me." it's a huge upgrade to what you were previously considering before his offer: walking home in the pouring rain and chancing ruining your uniform.

you follow close behind him. so close that your umbrellas slightly bump into each other. a deep purple-paint-detailed mercedes-benz comes into view. judging by mr. afton's clear affinity for the color purple, as he includes it in at least one part of his daily attire, you assume it's his. he opens the car door on the passenger's side for you.

"thanks," you say politely.

in december, 1993, mr afton — who you've come to know as william — has become a frequent presence in your life. it started when he actually asked you if you wanted another ride home. you had phoned your sister, letting her know there was a change of plans. this became an everyday thing until you no longer needed to call home.

you would be lying if you said you hadn't started to develop feelings for him somewhere along the way. how could you not? he was just such a nice man! so charismatic, not just with you, but with the customers. always asking everyone how their day is going and dropping whatever he's doing to help out. there's was something special about your connection with him. he made you feel special.

it was one rainy day, just like the day back in november, when he stopped you and leaned in and kissed you. it was the most unexpected thing that happened to you in awhile. you don't know what possessed him to do it, but you found yourself eagerly kissing him back. so much that he chuckled and commented on it before sending you off. you spent the rest of the night lying awake in bed, touching yourself to every possibility you could think of.

the next day he avoided you, much to your dismay. you couldn't stop thinking about it. it slowed down your performance, making you distracted. the time just dragged on.

it wasn't until he called you in his office after your shift that you felt any kind of relief. he asked you to lock the door behind you, just like how one of those fantasies you daydreamed of started. with a fast-beating heart, you did what he said and turned to face him. and then his mouth was on yours again. it was much more sensual and yet there was an anxious component to it that made your stomach tingle with excitement.

"why don't you sit on my lap?" he suggested once he pulled away from you.

you froze. you've never actually done this sort of thing before. something delicious curls inside of you. gingerly, you sit on the thigh he patted on and he bounces his leg slightly, the fabric of his pants hitting just the right spot. he laughs at the yelp you give.

"just relax, baby. 's just you and me."

in january, 1994, is when kids go missing. everyone is on edge and patrons are frequenting freddy's less and less. on top of that, the animatronics are malfunctioning more and more, so there are even less customers due to the amount of maintenance that needs to be done.

you and william continue your routine: you fuck and he drives you home afterwards. but lately, something's been weird with william. he's been more... erratic? is that the right word? or just elated. he seems so gleeful, but more violent during sex. he's never showed any masochism until now. he even put a knife to your throat as he pounded into you, threatening to "fucking kill you" if you scream. you took it as just one of those things he says during sex, like when he calls you "slut" and "whore" but it's starting to scare you as it becomes a frequent thing.

it gets worse. you're taking the trash out to the alley when you see the security puppet laying limp. you go and investigate only to find charlie emily, the other owner's daughter, dead and badly hurt. like she's been stabbed repeatedly. you scream in shock and run in to find william, but he's long gone. instead you went to your co-worker, who called the police.

you were asked to stay at the restaurant until you after you were questioned and you told them everything you saw. you looked but william was still nowhere in sight. you walked home that night.

catching the killer was never something you were interested in. in fact, you hoped to do the opposite of some of your vigilant co-workers, who openly investigated the restaurant. some of them ended up missing too. the police had been called at freddy's on multiple occasions.

on one particular occasion, the last one before freddy's closed, actually, you went to the backrooms to catch a breather. what you found? william pouring bleach to bloodied clothes, bloody knife laying on a nearby table. you drop your keys in shock, alerting him. Turning on your heel to break for it, he grabbed the knife and your arm.

"tell anyone and i'll fucking gut you right here, right now," he threatened in a low voice.

you jostle your arm, desperate to break free. "please!" you whisper-shout. "i won't tell anyone, please let me go!"

and for some reason, he trusted you.

freddy's closed after that, and you swore to yourself you would take what happened to the grave. maybe you were a coward, but you had no solid evidence it was him behind the murders. it would all just be hearsay. no one would believe you anyways. william had such a high reputation, not just at fredy's, but within the community.)

--

mike hangs up the phone with a sigh. "so...?" you say, leaning towards his direction in anticipation.

"i took the job," he grumbles. his head is in his hands, running through his hair anxiously.

you throw your hands up in the air in excitement. "yay! we get to keep abby!" mike immediately snaps out of his sulking to bust out laughing. as he shakes his hand, he mentally adds your twisted sense of humor to the endless list of things he loves about you. and your distantly maternal role in abby's life. we get to keep abby.

you snap him out of his thoughts with a question. "who's the lucky employer?"

he laughs again in disbelief. "freddy fazbear's pizza. working in security. they need someone to watch the place and make sure no one breaks in and stuff."

you frown and furrow your brow. freddy's. william. "something wrong?" he muses, noticing your change in demeanor. you shake your head.

"no, nothing. i'm happy for you. sounds.. just peachy." mike shoots you a half-smile.

it's nighttime when it's almost time for mike's shift. your head is in your hands as you sit on the couch. it's one of those times when abby's off in her room, scribbling away with a crayon. you feel sick to your stomach. why did it have to be freddy's? who even gave him this job? why is it still there?

you hear a slew of curses coming from mike's room and decide to investigate. he's struggling with the loop of his belt and you can't help but smile. "need some help?"

he looks at you, face turning red. "you don't have to—"

"oh, come on," you sigh, moving to help him. "it's okay to need help sometimes." mike doesn't say anything, but from the way he's looking at you, he wants to.

"what?" you ask, but mike just shakes his head. you wouldn't understand. you decide to just leave it alone — mike's always been a distant guy.

"you need to be careful," you tell him with a much more serious tone than intended.

"why?" he asks, confused.

you try to relax your face and give him a lighthearted smile. "you should always be careful, mike! you never know what kinds of people you can encounter."

he has no idea.

two days go by. mike comes back home, surprisingly well-rested, until before his third shift when he casually mentions to you that he mainly just sleeps on the job. you freeze at that, worry forming inside of you in the pit of your stomach. "wh-what do you mean you just sleep there?! are you fucking crazy?!"

mike looks bewildered at your outburst. "i told you about this. i'm doing that dream stuff still..."

"okay, but do you have to do it on the job? do you have any idea how dangerous that is, when you're supposed to be looking out for any suspicious behavior." you're poking a finger into his chest, scolding him like he's a child.

"jeez, what's the matter with you?" he sighs in frustration. "if it bothers you that much then why don't you come with me and make sure i stay awake? i'm tired all the fucking time, and you know that!"

you know you shouldn't, for your own safety, but you have to think about mike. besides, if there's two people there, one can call the police. you let your paranoia, and your overwhelming care for mike, get the better of you. "fine. i'll come with you. put on your vest, grab abby, and i'll be in the car."

mike looks at you with sad eyes. you really didn't mean to be so harsh but it doesn't matter; he's more important. the drive over is silent, not that mike is really a talker anyways, but there's a thick tension in the air. your jaw and your fists are clenched anxiously, and you try not to look at him. when he parks the car he sighs and says your name.

the three of you set up camp in mike's office. abby sets up her tent and shortly falls asleep. you pace around the room while mike stares at the cameras, head in his hands with his eyes barely open. you walk over and snap your fingers in front of his face with a huff.

then something goes wrong. mike calls you over. "uh, i think i just saw something move? towards the offices." if it's potential danger, you decide it should be you who goes. not in a heroine sort of way, more of a need for closure.

you make your way slowly towards the offices. the dead silent halls make room for the only sound being your quickened breathing. you can practically hear your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. something rustles and, of course, it comes from wiliam's old office. you pray it's a rat.

as you push the door open, you breath a sigh of relief when the room is empty. that is, when someone slaps a hand over your mouth. "how truly lucky i am that you were the one to find me, lovely."

you struggle instantly but he wraps his other arm around your neck and pushes you further into the office. you land on the ground, hitting your head on the chair. looking up at him in horror, you cling onto the chair for dear life and get a good look at him. he admittedly aged well. salt and pepper hair and beard and all, it looks ridiculously good on him. "don't be afraid. i only want to make amends. i saw you were here and—"

"fuck you!" you spit venomously. "i don't want anything to do with you!"

william looks dumbstruck, then he scowls. the look on his face scares you as it contorts horribly. "what is it? is that boy? you realize i'm the one that gave him this job, right?"

"i don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but—"

suddenly, william lunges towards you and grasps you by your cheeks, holding your face tightly. "stop acting like such a fucking brat. remember when you were such an obedient little girl for me? let's go back to that, yeah?"

before you know it, you're being shoved against the desk facing forward. "i'm gonna teach you some fucking manners." you scramble in his grasp but his strength is unmatched. you know what's coming next and it makes you feel something burning in your stomach that you try to convince yourself desperately is sickness.

he pulls down your pants and you begin to sob. "please!"

"look at you, begging for me already," he laughs. he's undoing his belt and you already feel his dick prodding at your entrance. if this was back in the 90s, before all of this bullshit, he would've had the decency to engage in some foreplay, but there's a sense of urgency that makes it all the more—

god, what the hell is wrong with you. you're so fucked.

he undresses your bottom half, leaving you just in your sweatshirt. "gorgeous," he comments. "just as i remember."

you feel his dick prodding at your entrance, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he pushes in. it still feels as good as it did back then. he fucks you nice and slow, emphasizing each thrust with a slap from his hips onto yours. how does he still fuck this well at his age?

instead of picking up his pace gradually, like he used to, he continues to fuck you slowly. you're moaning uncontrollably now, clawing behind you at his chest, hoping he'll get the message and pick up the pace. he doesn't and just laughs darkly. "he doesn't fuck you as good as i do, huh, baby? you needed my dick to satisfy you all those years ago, and still need it now the way you're gushing on my cock."

you want to tell him mike doesn't fuck you at all, and that you're just friends, and that you only belong to him—

someone calls your name from the doorway. you and william both snap your heads towards the direction, only to find a shocked mike with his mouth agape. "mr. raglan? what the fuck is going on?"

"michael schmidt!" william practically exclaims, excited. he stops fucking you, purposefully burying himself to the hilt inside of you so you groan and squirm at the loss of stimulation. "come! come join us! your girl and i were just getting re-acquainted."

"she's not my..." mike trails off, finding himself moving closer without thinking. he takes in your appearance: bottom naked and bent over the desk with a fucked out expression. god, you're so pretty. you're always so pretty, but this is just...

no, this is wrong, he tries to tell himself. it's almost like william reads his mind when he sing-songs, "join us, or i'll kill the both of you."

like there was a devil and angel on mike's shoulder, the devil was winning. he's always wanted to fuck you and he doesn't necessarily have a death wish, either. "what, uh, what do you want me to do?"

your face falls and your mouth goes dry. william speaks with a grin, "why don't we trade places?"

mike scrambles to undo his belt and you practically drool when he pulls his cock out. fuck, you've wanted mike for awhile now. all that pent up tension between you two is finally spilling over the edge. all those lingering glances and long-lasting touches leading up this

especially like this, with your former fling and the guy you babysit for, makes it — and fuck it, you'll say it — all the more hotter. he replaces william's spot behind you and thrusts in quicker than the latter. he's practically humping you, fucking you desperately like he's running after something. his hands grip onto your hips tightly. "yes," william hisses, pumping himself while sitting dowqn in his chair. when you glance at him, he has the audacity to fucking wink at you. "'attaboy, keep goin.'"

that only encourages mike as he moans your name. "fuck, your pussy feels so good — hah!"

"mmm, mike!" you moan back.

"look at you two," william says breathlessly, "what a lovely fuckin' sight." mike begins to plunge in and out, reaching your cervix with each thrust, and you're close already. he senses that, and you can tell he is too by the way his thrusts gradually become more unbalanced. william's grunts are getting louder.

you're the first one to come, then william, and mike is still desperately pushing out of you. for good measure, he lands an uncharacteristic smack on your ass and then buries himself to the hilt becoming coming inside. the feeling of him filling you up is absolutely delicious. when he pulls out he studies the way that his cum drips out of your pussy. he's enamored with you, by the way.

[megamindsecretlair]

You Understand Me Now

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Bratty!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), size kink, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink. Toxic smut. Mention of jail, drug use, and drinking. Angst if you squint. Established relationship.

Summary: While Franklin feels mounting pressure from setting up new business, he has to track you down and set you right.

Word Count: 3,673k

A/N: Hello brainrot, my old friend. Who needs sleep when there's smut to be had? I had TOO much fun writing this. It was written in a daze so all mistakes are mine. I just need some act right from Franklin!!! Enjoy if you do too! Thank you for so much love on my Franklin fics! I love yall. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings

You were shaking your ass like there was no tomorrow. The music was thumping through the floors like a live beast. You felt it in your chest. Alcohol was coursing through your system. It gave everything a hazy, bright glow. It was too loud to think and yet all roads lead to Franklin Saint.

You had been cooped up in an empty house by yourself. What use was all the shit Franklin brought in if he wasn’t there to enjoy it with you? He would leave early in the morning and not return until long after you’d gone to sleep. Your initial reaction was that he was cheating, but you knew that wasn’t the case.

You’d see Franklin dead before he cheated on you. And he’d see hell freeze over before the thought crossed his mind. You knew he loved you. He wasn’t the greatest at showing it and dammit, it hurt. 

Did that mean that you had to suffer? No. No, it did not. You called up your girl and went to her place to get dressed. The hardest part about dating Franklin was all the secrets. All the lies. They sometimes got twisted in the careful web you weaved. Over time, it became easier to not leave the house at all. 

Franklin was turning you into a hermit and you wanted to hate him for it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a cell in your body that could hate that man. So you took your anger out on him in other ways. It was an insidious need gnawing in the back of your mind.

Sometimes he’d walk in with that tired grin. Too tired to give you a proper hug and a kiss. Like you weren’t worth the effort it took to check in and ask about your day. You knew that he was in the middle of important business dealings. But lately, you were feeling neglected.

Not today.

At your girl’s house, she told you she missed you and your wild days at wild parties, living it up, gone off of the weed, and having real fun. She reminded you that you were still young and you were one of the lucky ones. You didn’t have a baby to look after. 

“You mu’fuckin’ right,” you said. You nodded your head, the idea taking shape the longer you sat with it. Thirty minutes later, you were both dressed like you didn’t have a man. You wore a very short skirt and off the shoulder top. Your coarse hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Your makeup was flawless.

It was practically gone now. Still you danced. Still you partied like there was no tomorrow. You left your pager at home. You didn’t care what Franklin had to say. So you shook and danced and waved off try-too-hard niggas with grabby hands. 

You clasped your friend’s hand and pulled her away from yet another man in your business. Damn, couldn’t you just go out and dance? Let loose?

“I see you havin’ real fun,” you heard above you.

You gasped and straightened out. You hadn’t seen him. Felt him. Or heard as he approached. One minute, your eyes were closed dancing to Flashlight. The next minute, Franklin was staring down at you with his nose slightly flared.

“How’d you find me?” You asked.

You looked around him and noticed Leon standing by the door looking sullen. “I can get to you any time I want,” he said. 

You folded your arms. The night’s festivities were catching up with you. Sweat pasted your shirt to your body. Little frizzes of hair escaped your ponytail. Your feet ached from spending hours on the makeshift dance floor. You were out of breath, staring at Franklin and wondering where his state of mind was at.

“I’m here trying to handle bidness and this is how you act?” 

You sucked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “The hell was I supposed to do?” You had to yell to be heard over the funk music. “Sit at home and wait for yo Black ass to come around?” 

Franklin rolled his neck. He was stressed out. You took a step forward. You longed to wrap your arms around him to hug and kiss him. To make it all better. But fuck that. Your anger was a familiar coat you threw on. 

“Let’s go,” he said. He dismissed your comments altogether. He turned and you faced the wide expanse of his broad back. His black polo shirt highlighted the slope of his shoulders, his sexy walk. The length of his legs were their own turn on. 

You didn’t follow him. He moved behind a dancing couple. He half turned and inclined his head. You turned around yourself. Two can play that game. You headed towards the back of the party. 

You were gaining attention. Those who weren’t smoking weed, were looking at you over the tops of cups. Others were smokin’ that stupid ass crack pipe. Franklin grabbed your hand and stopped you in your tracks. 

“Don’t fuckin’ embarass me. Let’s go,” he said, his whispered baritone fanning across your ear. You took a deep breath to steady yourself. Your body always reacted to him. Right now, your clit was throbbing thinking of what he was planning on doing to you. He hadn’t touched you in a week and it was driving you insane. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, Franklin,” you said.

Franklin stopped looking around and fixed you with a glare so severe, it’d hurt less if he slapped you. “The fuck you just say to me?” 

“You can’t tell me what to fuckin’ do, Franklin.” You emphasized his name, drawing out the syllables. 

“Man, get yo ass in the car,” he said. 

“Fuck you, nigga!” The rage that you cloaked yourself in was comforting in its heat. Spurned on by the alcohol, you poked at his chest. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” You slapped at his chest. 

“I’m only going to say this one more time, get in the fuckin’ car,” he said. He leaned in close to you, that calm demeanor slipping back behind his eyes. He kissed you on the cheek. A quick, dispassionate kiss that only served to piss you off even more. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but Franklin gripped your upper arm. He pushed you forward, around dancing people giving you the stink eye, past Leon with a little smirk on his face, and outside. The brutal LA night was cold and unforgiving against your damp skin. 

“Get off me, nigga!” You yanked your arm out of his grip. He talked about you embarrassing him. But he was the one who dragged you out of the party like some baby. 

Leon snickered. “Damn, you let her talk to you like that?” 

Franklin took a deep breath, looking towards the sky. “For one fuckin’ day, can any of ya’ll act right? I’m sick of this shit.” 

“I know you ain’t talkin’, Leon,” you said. Alcohol emboldened you. You felt invincible. Like you could hang onto a star and fly through the universe. You were ready with a scathing remark. 

Franklin stood in front of you, blocking your view of Leon who had squared up, ready to pop off. Franklin’s nose flared, his mouth stuck in a grimace. “Car, now,” he said.

Oh shit. Maybe you went a little too far. “Sure thing, Franklin,” you said with a sweet smile. 

You heard Franklin blow out a deep breath. “You got a way to get home?” You heard Franklin ask Leon as you walked away. You folded your arms and trudged the short distance to the curb. 

You reached the car, sliding in and putting your head against the headrest. You glared at Franklin as he said goodbye to Leon. Leon was smirking. You bet they were laughing it up at your expense. At your feelings. 

It paled in comparison to the lust you felt for Franklin. He walked towards the car. He was so different after he got out of jail. Tougher. Harder. There were moments where you would catch the Franklin you first fell in love with. The optimistic boy you would follow anywhere. 

Franklin was a man after jail. He picked up an edginess. A shorter temper. You couldn’t tell him what to do and that made him sexier to you. He was never a weak man. But now, he was strength personified. 

He climbed into the car in silence. He turned the car on and peeled out of the projects. “Not gon’ say shit?” You asked. 

Franklin didn’t look at you. He kept his eyes on the road, obeying all of the traffic lights. There was no reason to give LAPD an excuse to pull you over. Not that they always needed one. Driving while Black was practically an invitation to the cops to fuck with you. 

Franklin turned into his garage. You watched and listened as he closed the garage door behind you. He turned the car off and hopped out of the car. He came around to your side and opened the door. 

You hated the silent treatment. It was like he had ice water in his veins. You got out of the car and stood in the open door. Arms folded. Staring across a chasm at Franklin that you couldn’t cross. Couldn’t access. You weren’t welcome.

“Sick of this shit,” you muttered. 

“Get yo ass in the room and I’ll deal with you in a minute,” he said. 

“No, fuck you,” you said. 

That vindictive streak in you wanted to push him. To push him past the point of breaking him. 

“I don’t need this fuckin’ shit! I got enough shit to deal with than hearin’ my girl shakin’ her ass for anyone to see!” His voice rose from a deadly calm to outright yelling. 

“I was just dancin’,” you said with a shrug. 

“Yo ass don’t listen too good, huh?” Franklin grinned cruelly and laughed. He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside the house. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, as if he’d searched every room for you.

You didn’t have a chance to appreciate the sentiment as he tugged you through the house, towards your room. He pushed you onto the bed and watched you flop. 

You pushed up onto your elbows but Franklin grabbed your hips and yanked your body down the bed to the edge. Your ass hung off of it. He used his leg to push yours further apart. 

“Franklin?” You asked. Your voice wobbled but not with fear. You were so turned on, you didn’t trust your voice. 

A sharp slap rung throughout the room. You cried out and clutched at the bed spread. Heat blossomed on your nearly exposed ass. One sharp jerk later, and it was over your hips, pushed up.  

“This what you wanted right? Why yo ass was actin’ up?” He asked. 

He rubbed the area that he slapped and you hissed. You were at an awkward angle. Half hanging off of the bed like you were, your heels were the only thing sort of keeping you upright. You stood on your tiptoes to brace yourself. Franklin standing in between your legs threw your balance off slightly. 

Franklin ran his hands down the crack of your ass, down towards your pussy. He moved your skimpy panties aside and pressed his thumb into your entrance. You cooed and collapsed onto the bed. 

“This pussy right there? Mine,” he said. He slapped your ass with his free hand and you gasped. The dichotomy of him slipping his fingers inside of you and the heat of the slap was too much already. 

“Baby…”

“Naw, don’t baby me. It was Franklin earlier, wasn’t it?” He asked. He removed his thumb and quickly replaced it with his index finger. He grunted and pushed a second finger in. 

“Oh, baby,” you moaned. He widened his fingers, preparing you for him. 

“What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” He asked. He leaned over over, driving his fingers in deeper. You moaned and clutched the bedspread past the point of your fingers cramping. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. You moved your ass in a circle, in tune with how Franklin pumped his fingers in and out of you. As long as he kept doing that, you’d give him any answer he was looking for. 

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered against your ear. He leaned back and added a third finger. 

“Oh, fuck!” You moaned. Your body jerked and twitched as if you ate a live wire. Your orgasm ripped through you. Each wave hit you harder and faster, dragging you under its sweet release. 

Franklin withdrew his fingers and you heard him licking each one. You huffed. This man was going to be the death of you. 

Franklin massaged your ass, bringing attention back to the lingering pain. “I just missed you, baby,” you said. 

“Mhmm,” he said. He took a few deep breaths. His hands grabbed a handful of your ass. He made quick work of his pants, shedding it in nearly one fell swoop. He rubbed his thick, hardening dick along your slick slit. 

You bit your lip and moaned. “Pleasepleaseplease,” you said and wiggled your ass against him. 

He grabbed your left wrist and pulled it behind your back. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. You twisted your wrist but Franklin didn’t give you much room. He learned forward, his polo shirt rustling against your shirt. 

He brought his lips down to your ear. He licked the shell of it. Placed kisses behind your ear, into that sensitive spot. You shivered. Your desperate pussy clenched around nothing. He wrapped your hair around his fingers and pulled your head to the side for better access. 

You ached. You were so empty, you could cry. Literally, tears gathered behind your closed eyelids. You needed to be filled up by him. Consumed by him. You wanted to end where he began and begin where he ended. 

“The next time you need some dick, you come fuckin’ find me,” he said. He pushed into you slowly, stopping every so often so that you could get acclimated to him. 

“Oh, yes, Daddy,” you whined as he fulfilled your silent request. “Pleaseplease,” you muttered over and over. 

“Do you know my heart stopped comin’ here, callin’ for you like a mu’fuckin’ idiot? I called your pager. Shit was beepin’ by our bed. Anythin’ could’ve happened to you!” 

He seemed to forget his plan because he started to increase his thrusts. Whatever he gave, you took. You bounced back on him, matching his rhythm. He fucked you into the bed, pushing down on your arm behind your back. 

You were shoved ever more onto your tiptoes. Your right hand searched for purchase on the bed. Anything to brace you against his savage thrusts. It felt like he was pouring all of his frustration out into you. You gripped the bed spread and chewed on a piece of it.

There was a low, delicious burn inching up your legs. You shook violently, crying out as he hit that spot that only he could reach. Only he could touch. Only him. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you choked out. He pushed the very air from your lungs. Each thrust knocked a little more loose. You panted against him. 

“Oh fuck, right there,” you whined. Your ass clapped against his hips and the wet slap surprised another orgasm out of you. You stuttered over his name as you came, your pussy contracting and flooding his dick. 

“Look at you, can’t even hold on to that fucked up attitude,” he said. He licked your neck and nibbled at a sensitive bit. You shuddered and tried to curl in on yourself. 

“Naw,” he breathed. 

He slipped out of you and you cried in earnest. Tears slid down your cheeks. You groaned. Words weren’t working right for you. 

Franklin manhandled you. He flipped you onto your back and pulled you by your arms. You sat up and flopped against his body. He gripped your chin and made you look at him. 

“Talk a big game, no follow through, huh?” He asked. Bastard. But you got what you wanted. 

“I’ll do better, Daddy,” you said. You gave him puppy dog eyes.

Franklin grinned and pecked your lips. “I know you will,” he whispered. 

He tugged your shirt off, revealing your bra. Franklin sucked your nipple through the lacy material and you bucked off of the bed. “Shit!” 

The sensation was both there and wasn’t there. You registered a barrier between his mouth and your nipple but you didn’t really feel it. 

Franklin thrusted into you, hard. You gasped, your mouth hanging open. He climbed onto the bed, getting into a better position. He tore off his polo shirt and tossed it onto the floor.

He laid over you, crushing your body to the bed. He used one hand to spread you completely open for him. The other hand, grabbed your right hand and held it above you. Your fingers intertwined with his. He ground his hips into you, his dick disappearing inside of you.

His strokes were deep, brutal, and punishing. He wasn’t done being pissed at you. The thought should scare you. It should drive you right out of his bed. But no one else fucked you so completely. Made you feel so wanted and adored and like he needed to fuck you like a person needed air. 

Every stroke hit that deep spot inside of you. Your knees closed around his hips. Your left hand scratched his back. 

“That attitude shit stops,” he said as he made out with your titties. He pulled your cups down until they were under your breasts, pushing them up and into his eager mouth.

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned. 

You felt the muscles in his back working as he pushed in and out of you. His dick stretched you right to the edge of pain. That fine line was delicate and he walked it well. Your hand traveled the length of his back, feeling all of the additional muscles and the dip of his back. The top of his ass that you couldn’t reach. 

You closed your eyes as he rolled a nipple around his mouth. 

“The last thing I need to fuckin’ worry about is you,” he said.

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry,” your breath was failing you. Hell, you didn’t even know what he was saying at this point. You’d agree to just about anything at the moment. As long as he kept his strokes nice and deep like that. 

You felt him in your chest. He pushed up and you couldn’t barely breathe. He was stuffing you full of him, feeding you his dick. 

“You think this shit is cute and it ain’t! How the fuck it look that I can’t control my girl?”

You contracted against him. Another orgasm was building. His voice was so deep and raspy. And when he yelled, it was like unlocking a switch inside of you. You began to twitch again. Tears streamed down your face.

“I’m sorry! I hate being here without you,” you managed to croak out.

Fuck, you were so damn close. “Please Daddy, I’m so sorry. I’ll do better,” you said. 

Franklin lifted his head from your titty. He stared into your eyes. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ know how much I love you? Why do I have to prove it to you?” He asked, softly. So at odds with his pounding dick. 

“You don’t!” You yelled. Your orgasm was just out of reach. So, so, sososososo close. 

“Then why you like makin’ me mad?” He asked, his voice raised. Your jaw went slack as the orgasm finally tore through you like a tidal wave. You flopped and twitched, unable to hear or see anything as stars danced behind your eyelids. 

Your convulsing pussy triggered Franklin’s orgasm. He pushed into you further, his cum splashing inside of you. You felt his dick twitch and pulse. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned. “You feel what you do to me?” He asked. He placed his head into the crook of your neck and panted.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you murmured. 

“You do that to me,” he said. He kissed your jaw, your cheek. Your lips lazily found his and you kissed him with the last remaining breath in you. You felt light headed. You wanted to curl up like a cat at his feet. He rubbed your arms and kissed you as you floated back to your body. 

As he softened, he pulled out of you. His thick cum eased out of you. Franklin rolled over onto his back with a contented sigh. He placed one hand behind his head. You rolled and tucked your body into his. He rubbed your back. You spread your right arm across his chest. A possessiveness taking over you. 

He kissed your temple and looked at you. “Don’t you ever call me by my first name again,” he said. He turned to stare at the ceiling. His fingers never gave up their glide and and down your back. 

You giggled sleepily. “Keep fuckin’ me like that and I won’t have to,” you said. 

Franklin grabbed your right hand and brought it to his lips. “I gotta fuck you to keep you in line, is that it?” He asked.

“Somethin’ like that,” you said with a small giggle. 

You were dragged kicking and screaming to sleep. You wanted to stay up and talk to him. Anything to keep hearing that sexy voice. Anything to keep him here with you longer. You were beyond worried that the moment you opened your eyes, he’d be gone again. Like a puff of smoke you couldn’t hold on to. He’d just slip through your fingers. 

You were so blessedly fucked out, that your head emptied. You fell asleep to the thump of his heart. And you prayed. Prayed that he’d be there when you woke up.

Psst. There's more Franklin Fics! The Secret Franklin Saint Files

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [37] - Amaranth

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Summary: Art lasts forever.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 3600

Series Masterlist

The first thing you felt through the warmth of peaceful sleep was the blinding sunrays piercing through the darkness, causing you to make a face and wonder why on earth the curtains were open this early—

Oh.

You weren’t in your room.

A smile curled your lips as you shifted closer to Benedict who looked to be still in deep sleep, one arm thrown over his eyes while the other kept you close to his chest even in his sleep. You had found a couple of soil bags last night to use as pillows along with a very old blanket that you suspected they used to carry the said bags, and thrown it over you. You let your hungry gaze wander down from his handsome face to his perfect torso; he looked like a statue one of his idols would sculpt in Renaissance in such an effortless way that even looking at him made your heart skip a beat, your cheeks burning when you remembered last night.

Well, as it turned out Benedict was right.

It felt absolutely divine.

You nibbled on your lip, dragging your eyes away from him to your surroundings. In daylight, the greenhouse looked so beautiful that it felt as if you were in a dream, making you heave a sigh. You slowly pulled away from him, careful not to wake him up and reached for your shift to put it on. It was dry unlike the rest of your clothes but it was so see-through in the sunlight that if it were any other time you would have never thought of walking around just in that, except that—

Well.

Considering last night, it wouldn’t be a scandal.

You bit down a smile and got off the floor, approaching the Middlemist Red. You still couldn’t believe it was yours, after years and years of dreaming of seeing it at least once in some sort of exhibition, now you could see it anytime you wanted in your own greenhouse. You gently caressed the petals with your fingertip, then checked the soil in the pot to see whether it needed water but it was still damp so you figured it could wait until later in the day. You looked around, taking in the sight.

This was actually yours. All of it.

“I thought you left.”

You looked over your shoulder and turned around to look at Benedict better, your heart skipping a beat as you did. He had pulled himself up into a sitting position with the blanket pooled around his waist, his hair messy as he ran his hand through it, that lopsided grin you loved so much playing on his lips. You took a deep breath to snap yourself out of the haze, then leaned back to the shelf.

“Well this is my greenhouse,” you said airily, motioning between you before pointing at him. “So hypothetically, if anyone was to leave…”

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming. “Mm, should I leave then?”

“No,” you said with a grin. “In fact, I don’t think either of us should. Let’s just stay here for the rest of our lives.”

He stretched out his arm as if offering you his hand. “Will you come here please?”

You pretended to think about it, then approached him with a giggle that turned into a squeal when he grabbed you by the waist to pull you to his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart slamming against your ribcage as he leaned in to kiss you, making you heave a happy sigh.

“Good morning my love,” he muttered to your lips, stroking your cheekbone and coaxing a smile from you.

“Good morning.”

“Remind me again, why are you wearing clothes?”

You let out a small laugh. “For decorum, obviously,” you teased him. “I mean surely you cannot disagree with propriety, can you?”

“I absolutely can,” he said, stealing a kiss from you as his hand trailed up your leg, pushing the skirt of your shift up, awakening fire on your skin. “To hell with decorum.”

You felt nearly intoxicated as a giggle climbed up your throat and he rolled you over to get on top of you, settling between your legs, holding himself up on one arm to look down at you with a soft smile.

“God, I’ll never be able to paint this…” he murmured and you tilted your head, stroking your fingertips over his chest, right over his heart.

“Well I suppose you’ll have to settle for the feeling rather than the depiction,” you tried to joke, stealing a look at him before the thought hit you, making you furrow your brows. He knew you too well not to notice it, so he pulled back just a little.

“What is it?”

“This doesn’t change things, does it?”

“What do you mean?”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him.

“You won’t take it back now that I…” you trailed off. “You won’t stop loving me now that I said I love you?”

That fond look appeared in his blue eyes again and he smiled at you, then reached to your hand to rest your palm flat against his chest, letting you feel his strong heartbeat.

“This life and beyond, remember?” he murmured. “I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.”

You pressed your lips together and he tilted his head.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do, but I just don’t see how,” you muttered. “I mean I’ve— I’ve been terrible to you.”

“No you haven’t.”

You scoffed. “Ben.”

“What?” he said with a small laugh. “You haven’t.”

“Just yesterday I accused you of cheating on me.”

“I mean it brought us here to this so I’m not complaining,” he said, wiggling his brows and drawing a burst of laughter from your lips.

“No but ever since we met, I’ve been…” you mumbled. “Not nice to you.”

“You were.”

You shot him a look and the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

“It’s a subjective matter.”

You looked around the greenhouse before turning your glances to him. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Why did you do all this for me when you didn’t even know I was in love with you?”

He frowned slightly, thinking for a moment before shaking his head.

“I didn’t do this so that you would fall in love with me,” he said. “I did it because I want you to be happy. Simple as that.”

You felt as if your heart was melting and you leaned up to kiss him but the sound of a movement by the door reached you, making Benedict roll off you to shield you with his body as soon as the door opened and Mr. Binsted walked in.

“Oh—my apologies!” he exclaimed as soon as his eyes fell on you two, then he looked up, his whole face going red. “Sir. Ma’am.”

“Mr. Binsted,” Benedict said, trying to keep a straight face as if nothing was out of the ordinary while you stayed behind him, your cheeks burning. “Good morning.”

“Hello,” you murmured, still hiding behind Benedict and Mr. Binsted nodded, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

“Good morning, I’ll just—come back later,” he stammered and left, almost stumbling over his own feet in his haste. You buried your face to Benedict’s shoulder, gripping his arm tightly and letting out a whine while he started laughing.

“Oh my God…” you said. “Oh my God, I can never look him in the eye again.”

Benedict tried to stop his laughter and shook his head, then turned to you.

“Could’ve been worse,” he commented and grabbed you by the waist to get you under him, making you let out a clear laugh despite yourself. “Besides, look on the bright side.”

You raised your brows, still smiling. “And what is that?”

“Well you see my love, now…” he dipped his head to brush his lips against yours, that familiar fire spreading through your veins as his hand pushed your skirt up. “Now we know no one will be disturbing us for a while.”

                                         *

If somebody told you that one day you would have the greenhouse of your dreams, including the rarest flower in the world and you would spend the whole day away from it, you would have laughed in their face.

Yet in your defense, Benedict had a way of convincing you.

It felt like you were put under some sort of spell, that fire only he managed to breathe into life taking over you until the only thing in your mind was him. After leaving the greenhouse, you had every intention of going back once you had some breakfast but before you knew it, you both found yourselves in his bed.

You could not believe you had denied yourself the bliss for so long when you could’ve been doing this for months and more importantly, you couldn’t believe you were still hungry for him even after spending hours in the bed with him, completely lost in the pleasure.

And the worst part? You actually had to step away from his room and from him so that your maid could do your hair for tonight, for Gordon’s gala.

For some reason, every single act except the marital act felt entirely unnecessary to you now that you had gotten a taste of it.

Paula retrieved her hands from your hair, letting you look in the mirror to check your bun and you turned your head, then smiled at her.

“Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am,” she said as you stood up, and put your corset over your shift. She went behind you to put the laces into the hoops but you turned your head when you heard the knock on the door.

“Y/N?”

A bright smile warmed your lips. “Come in Ben!”

The door opened and he stepped inside, and you turned to Paula.

“You may leave, thank you.”

Paula curtsied and left the room, and you grinned at Benedict, leaning back to the vanity.

“You look too handsome,” you said, your lips pulled into a small pout as your gaze wandered over him. Unlike you, he looked very much ready to go outside and attend this gala you two were expected in, yet the only thing you wanted to do was to drag him to bed, outside world be damned.

And judging by the mischievous look in his blue eyes, he shared the sentiment.

“Let’s just skip this one,” he said, approaching you and your jaw dropped, an exaggerated shock clear on your face.

“We made a promise,” you reminded him. “It’s Gordon’s gala.

He hummed, leaning down to kiss you and you giggled, turning around.

“Help me?” you asked airily, watching him on the mirror a playful smirk curled his lips, then his hands went to the laces of your corset. A giddy laugh climbed up your throat as you reached back to grab at his wrist when you realized the corset getting even looser.

“Lace up Ben, not unlace.”

“We can just tell them we had something to do.”

“Lace up,” you teased him with a small smile and he heaved a dramatic sigh, then tugged at the laces, the corset getting tighter around your body. The memory of earlier today flashed before your eyes, with his tight grip around your waist and you felt your cheeks burn, the familiar fire coming to life at your lower stomach.

“You’re killing me, you know that?” he murmured, dipping his head to press a kiss on the crook of your neck and your eyes fluttered close for a moment before you tried to see through the haze of desire, willing yourself to turn around to look up at him.

“I owe Gordon,” you said, playing with the lapels of his jacket. “For coming to my aunt’s ball. Besides, is he not your hero in art?”

“He is,” he said, one hand playing with the front ribbon of your corset absentmindedly and you entwined your fingers with his. He raised your hand to press a kiss on the back of it, making your stomach do a pleasant flip.

“What if his painting tonight is a masterpiece and you miss it?” you taunted him and he scoffed.

“I have the most beautiful masterpiece in front of me right now,” he said. “I’m not interested in anything else.”

A fire swept over your cheeks and stood on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his.

“You remember what you said about me being the death of you?” you asked. “Now to think of it, I think we might have gotten it backwards.”

                                              *

There was no wonder why everyone in the ton was competing rather ruthlessly for the invitations for Gordon’s gala, because as far as you could tell, the guests only consisted of his very close friends. When you and Benedict walked in, you couldn’t help but notice that you had seen most of these people at the parties Benedict had taken you to, which meant the majority of them were artists.

Not that you had any chance to talk to them. Ever since the beginning of the gala, while waiting for Gordon to unveil the painting in the middle of the room, you and Benedict had been inseparable. Perhaps it was good that only a handful of people who were more open about public displays of affection were here with you because if it were any other ball or social outing, you were certain you would have been criticized and made to Lady Whistledown’s newest edition about your lack of decorum, and yet you couldn’t find it in you to care.

This daze you found yourself in his presence didn’t seem to be going away, and thankfully he seemed to have the exact same issue.

“What happens though?” you asked, comfortable in Benedict’s arms while he nuzzled into your hair, his fingertips running up and down your spine while you looked at the paintings on the walls. “There’s the gala, and then they put the painting in a museum straightaway?”

“In Gordon’s case yes,” he said, “It’s already sold I’m guessing.”

“The painting tonight?”

“Mm hm.”

“But it’s the gala.”

“Buyers see it before the ton,” he said with a smile. “And considering how famous he is, I’m willing to bet multiple museums and collectors climbed all over each other to get it, it must’ve been sold within minutes.”  

You let out a breath and looked up at him.

“And are you excited to see it?” you asked. “The painting?”

“If you asked me before yesterday, I would have been,” he admitted. “Now, I don’t care much about it.”

“You’re an artist!”

“I’m a husband as well, and that side of me weighs much more at the moment,” he said and looked around. “You know, I’m quite certain Gordon has guest rooms.”

You tried to contain your laughter. “Shh!”

“No I’m serious, because there’s still time until—”

“Did you two not come here from the same house?” Henry’s voice cut him off, making you and Benedict turn your heads and then Benedict buried his nose to the top of your hair, his arms wrapped around your waist as if you two were alone. “Was there some sort of war and you just got back while I wasn’t looking?”

“Hello Henry.”

“Y/N,” he greeted you back with a teasing smile while Benedict rested his chin on top of your head. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt this, but I need to borrow him for a moment. Ben, Mr. Allingham is here.”

“Hm?” Benedict asked after a moment as if he was having a hard time focusing just like you and Henry blinked a couple of times.

“Mr. Allingham?” he repeated. “One of the directors of the Academy? Are you—is he alright?”

You bit back a smile and shrugged your shoulders. “Oh I’d say he’s more than alright.”

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Henry said, grabbing him by the arm to pull him away from you gently and you covered your lips to hide your grin.

“Henry, I was—”

“With your wife yes, she’ll be there after you’re done talking to Allingham. Artists in love, honestly…” Henry said as they both walked to the other side of the gallery and you looked around, then caught the side of Margery and Lucy. You took a glass of champagne from the footman, then approached them.

“Oh hello Y/N!”

“Hello,” you smiled at them. “Um—terribly sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to thank you, Margery.”

She raised her brows and gave you a small smile. “The surprise?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said with a wink while Lucy looked between you two.

“What surprise?”

“Benedict had a surprise for Y/N, I happened to know a person who could help,” she said airily. “I’m glad you liked it. Consider it my apology for all those stupid rumors about him and me.”

“It’s beyond me how anyone could ever believe those.” Lucy commented and you shifted your weight, nodding fervently.

“I know,” you said with a scoff, waving a hand in the air. “Complete nonsense, I doubt anyone actually believed it.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention,” you heard Gordon’s voice and the chatter of the crowd ceased immediately. You saw him making his way to the covered painting in the middle of the gallery and everyone followed him.

“Let’s see the painting first and then I have so much to tell you,” Margery said, squeezing your hand before Lucy winked at you and pulled her towards the rest of the crowd. You felt someone touching the small of your back and Benedict pressed a kiss on your temple.

“Come on,” he said, gently leading you closer to the painting and you entwined your fingers with his, leaning your head to his arm when you came to a stop. Gordon smiled at you two, then cleared his throat and turned to the guests.

“I’ve always thought a painting should speak for itself rather than the artist speaking for it,” he said. “But I feel confident in saying that love continues to inspire each and every one of us, may it be our actions or art. Therefore, I’m glad to share The Artist and the Muse with you.”

With that, he pulled the cover off of the painting and the crowd gasped, a round of applause rising soon after. You tilted your head and stepped closer to the painting, a slight frown furrowing your brows.

There was no wonder Gordon was a living legend in the art world, it was such a beautiful painting that it almost took you by surprise. The two figures in the garden under the moonlight seemed to be in an embrace, their faces hidden but you didn’t even need to see their faces to know that they were in love. You had no idea how Gordon had managed to depict it, but anyone who so much as laid eyes on the painting would be able to tell this was some sort of an escapade from the crowd, as if those figures were the only lovers left in the world.

“How did he…?” Benedict breathed out and you looked up at him.

“He really is insanely talented,” you commented. “I mean I feel as if they’re familiar, I don’t get that feeling from many paintings.”

Benedict turned to look at you better as if trying to see whether you were jesting.

“I mean I’d assume so,” he said. “Considering we’re looking at ourselves.”

Your head shot up. “What?”

“Coleshill Ball,” Benedict said, motioning at the painting. “That’s the garden, that’s…that’s the gown you were wearing. We stepped outside for a moment, remember? Danced in the garden?”

Your jaw dropped as the memory flashed through your mind. Benedict was right, it was all familiar; the garden, the gown, the scenery itself. That was the night where you had apologized to Benedict and you two had danced in the garden, with him holding you close, away from the ton and their nonsense almost like a shelter.

Gordon had told you, way before tonight.

The storm and the shelter weren’t separate things as it turned out.

“Well you two look rather shocked,” Gordon’s voice snapped you out of it and Benedict let out a laugh.

“Gordon, is that…”

“You, yes,” he said. “Not to worry, I will never tell people it’s you. I just happened to be looking out of the window, desperate to get away from the ton and all that chatter and I saw you two dancing and…well, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you how inspiration works Ben. Y/N, I hope you don’t mind?”

You shook your head fervently.

“No,” you said. “God no, not at all. I…I don’t know what to say, Gordon. It's an honor.”

Gordon bowed his head.

“It’s not the last painting that will have you as its subject I’m sure,” he smiled, nodding in Benedict’s direction. “I’d better go and say hello to Allingham, if you’ll excuse me. Enjoy the gala.”

With that, he walked away from you and Benedict exhaled, still in disbelief. You stepped into his embrace, keeping your eyes on the painting and he dipped his head to kiss the top of your hair.

“You know, Gordon is a legend,” he muttered. “Which means this painting will be gazed upon for centuries.”

“So will yours Ben,” you said as you rested your head on his arm, heaving a sigh. “And I don’t know. I still like your paintings better.”

Chapter 38

[toxophilitis]

Horny Peeping Sister cont

Chapter 3

Each day after school, Tom and Becky were left alone in the house for a few hours until their parents got home from work. Although the teenagers were old enough to be left on their own, their mother insisted that they stay in the house and not answer the door or telephone. Neither Becky nor Tom liked the arrangement, but they had learned to accept it. It was easier to just do what she asked rather than argue with their mother.

Usually they spent the time watching television or doing various things in their rooms. It was usually a quiet time for it was not unknown for their mother to come home early and check up on them. Neither child wanted to get in trouble with their mother so they both spent the time doing simple, unexciting things.

But today would be different, Becky vowed. She knew for a fact that her mother had an important meeting at the office and couldn’t possibly come home to check on them and so she intended to confront her brother with what she had seen him doing the other night in the alley.

All day long Becky’s heart pounded. During her classes, she hardly heard a word that her teachers said because her cunt was so itchy all she could think about was satisfying it. She knew that, if she played her cards just right, her own brother would be fucking her before the day was done.

Becky got home first after running all the way from school. She ran right up into the bathroom and took a quick shower, being careful not to get her long blonde hair wet. Then she stood naked in front of her open closet trying to decide what to wear for the seduction of her brother.

Finally she picked out a very short skirt and matching sleeveless blouse. She left one too many buttons on the front of the blouse open and decided to skip wearing shoes. Then she brushed her hair until it was shiny and perfect. Just as she put down her hairbrush, she heard her brother come in.

She stood in the middle of her bedroom listening as Tom did what he did every afternoon. First he went to the refrigerator and took a big drink of milk right out of the carton. Then he grabbed a handful of cookies and headed up the stairs to his room. Becky stood back as he passed her door. She didn’t want him to know that she’d beaten him home.

The blood pounded in her ears as she waited a few more minutes, letting him get settled. She knew he was working on a model in his room and she only hoped that he liked the smell of her pussy better than the smell of model glue.

At last she felt that the time was right. She took a deep breath and padded barefoot down the hall to his room. His door was partly open and she could see him at his desk, model glue in one hand, a tiny piece of gray plastic in the other.

“Hi!” she said, boldly entering his room, her short skirt swinging.

“That looks great.”

“Fuck!” Tom gasped, nearly jumping out of his chair. “Jesus, Becky, you almost scared the crap out of me!”

Becky laughed and fixed him with a strange stare. “You have to be more careful, Brother Dear, you never know when other people are around.”

She laughed some more, and Tom nervously joined her. Her ran his eyes up and down her odd outfit and tried to decide if she meant more with her words than a simple joke.

“When did you get home?” he asked.

“Just a little before you,” she answered, perching on the edge of his desk. “I wanted to be ready to talk to you about something.”

Tom’s stomach flipped, but he told himself to calm down. He was just paranoid if he thought that his own sister knew anything about how he often spent his evenings.

“Yeah?” he answered. “What’s up?”

Becky snorted and looked from his eyes to his crotch. “Nothing now,” she replied. “But there was plenty up last night.”

Brother and sister sat in silence for a few moments, each letting Becky’s meaning sink in. Tom shifted uncomfortably in his chair and noticed how close her long, naked was to him. The scent of her thrilled him.

“What do you mean?” he finally asked, trying to sound innocent. But Becky would have none of it. She could feel his uneasiness and she knew that she had him right where she wanted him.

“I saw you last night, in the alley. I saw it all,” she said.

“Jesus!” Tom gasped. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

Becky smiled down into his wide, pleading eyes, and rubbed her naked

thighs against him. “No, and I don’t plan to either-“

“Good!” Tom sighed.

“Under one condition,” Becky continued, letting her words hang in the air.

“Anything!” Tom said quickly, “Just tell me what you want.”

Becky lifted one bare foot up and put it on her brother’s crotch, rubbing his soft prick roughly. Both teenagers felt his prick involuntarily respond.

“I want your cock,” she said simply.

For an instant Tom was speechless but then, the more he thought of it, the more the idea appealed to him. He’d wanted to fuck a girl for a long time now but he hadn’t known how to go about it. Now here was a girl offering herself to him—what did it matter that she was his own sister?

“Sure, why not?” he said with surprising calm.

“Well, come on then,” Becky said, taking his hand and leading him over to his bed.

Each teenager was certain that the other had plenty of fucking experience and they were each counting on the other to lead the way.  Neither wanted to admit that they were as cherry as the other and both hoped to bluff their way through this awkward fuck.

Becky acted very brazen, hoping to cover up her inexperience. She spread herself out on the bed and opened up her legs as she had seen the women in the magazines do. Her pussy was already wet and when she spread her thighs and heard her brother gasp, it got even wetter.

Like he had done it in front of a woman a million times, Tom opened his pants and wriggled out of them. He wanted to take his shirt off too, but he was afraid that if he waited too long his sister might change her mind about letting him fuck her. So, as he had watched the man do to the brunette the night before, he fell on top of Becky and probed around her cunt with the tip of his prick.

“Ohhh!” Becky gasped, all the air rushing out of her as her brother’s weight crashed down.

She kept perfectly still, not knowing how to move or even if she should move. She had seen lots of pictures of people fucking, but they had all been still photographs. The girl didn’t know how much motion fucking really had.

Her breathing grew hot and ragged as she felt her brother feeling around near the opening of her cunt. The tip of his prick knocked all around her cunt-hole and even hit it once but then bobbed away. Becky whimpered with anxiety, Why didn’t he just put it in her?

Tom grunted and thrust, but his cock just couldn’t seem to find her cunt-hole. Finally he reached down between them and grabbed his pounding prick. The size of his hard-on surprised even him, but he captured it and led the dripping tip to the equally wet mouth of her cunt.

Once he located his mark, Tom bucked his hips as he had watched so many other men do and almost to his surprise, he felt his cock forcing its way up into his sister’s pussy. He shoved again and sighed as more of his prick was surrounded by the soft, moist meat of Becky’s pussy.

Becky remained still while Tom started to fuck her. She let out short little yelps of pain as her cunt stretched around his cock. Although she has been finger-fucking herself for a long time, she had never taken anything into her cunt that felt anything near to having her brother’s prick in her pussy.

In the groove now, Tom jabbed his sister’s pussy, delighting in the way she held his cock so tightly. She was so soft on the inside! It wasn’t really anything like fucking his own hand and he knew he’d never be satisfied with beating his meat again after all this.

Using what he’d seen others do to guide him, Tom reached up under his sister’s blouse and cupped one of her small tits. When his fingers closed around the pointy cone, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.  It didn’t matter to him that his sister was not as voluptuous as many of the grown women he’d spied on. All he cared about was that Becky was here now, and he was fucking her. Her little titties could not have been more perfect to him.

“Move your ass,” he panted, fucking his whole cock into her pussy.

“Move with me, Beck, come on!”

Her teeth still clamped over her bottom lip with the strange feelings that caromed through her, Becky did her best to do what her brother wanted. She started slowly at first, rocking her hips with his rhythm.  But the more he fucked her, the more comfortable she became with the motion and before long her body was moving with Tom, helping him fuck her with long, deep, measured strokes.

“Like this?” she panted, taking his hard fucking. “Okay?”

“Ummm-hummm,” Tom replied, pounding her pussy with the full length of his prick.

Becky felt the juices from her cunt trickling out and running down between the cheeks of her ass. She also found that when she moved just right the base of her brother’s prick rubbed against her clit and made her feel extra good.

The juices that ran from her stuffed cunt-hole excited Becky and made her hump up at her brother faster and faster. She no longer suffered at all from taking her brother’s big prick. Now she felt lost and empty each time he pulled back and emptied her cunt. His cock soon became part of her, and Becky moaned in pleasure. Fucking was everything she had hoped it would be and she intended to do it often from now on.

Tom was having similar thoughts. His sister’s pussy fit around his prick-shaft and the way her moist, squishy insides held his prick and caressed it when he fucked in and out delighted the boy. His confidence soared when he heard his sister sighing with joy, too.

“You like it?” he grunted, thrusting with his cock. “Does it feel good to you, Beck? Huh? Do you like fucking me?”

“Hummm!” Becky moaned, too overcome to speak, “Hummm, yesss!”

She wanted to tell him that fucking his wonderful prick was the best thing that ever happened to her. She wanted to tell him that his cock felt better to her than anything she had ever felt before. She wanted to tell him that she hoped he would never stop fucking her, but the words just wouldn’t come so she moaned and mumbled her joy and tried to make him feel her ecstasy in the way she fucked back at him.

Their fucking got hotter and juicier. The precum that boiled from Tom’s prick mixed with the juices his cock forced out from deep within Becky’s cunt to form a fragrant, erotic mixture that spurred both of the horny teenagers on.

Tom fucked her with long, straight strokes. Then he pulled back and fucked her with just the tip of his cock, letting his own pleasure guide him. When he discovered something that felt especially good, he did it again and again, wanting to squeeze as much enjoyment as possible out of his first fuck.

Like the man he had watched the night before, Tom flipped her blouse up out of the way, baring her titties. First he just looked at them and then he bent down and took the tip of one in between his dry lips.

“Yehhh,” sighed Becky, arching up slightly to make her brother take in all of the tit that he could.

Tom licked the tit-tip and his dry lips and sucked in more of her tit-mound. His mouth opened wide and the soft white flesh filled it, making him breathe through his nose. Her nipple was far inside of his mouth now, and he let the tit pull back out of his oral grasp so that he could thump her nipple with his pointed tongue.

He flicked her nip and it made Becky squeal and squirm. Tom hadn’t expected such a reaction from her, but now that he’d gotten it, he didn’t let up.

Becky wriggled wildly, her whole body writhing around beneath him. Tom had trouble keeping his mouth plastered to her wet, wiggling tit but he did his best. It felt very sexy to have his sister undulating beneath him and he pressed down harder against her.

His cock was again completely buried in her pussy, and with the way she was writhing because of his tit-licking, Tom didn’t have to fuck his sister at all. Becky now did all the work, moving her cunt around and around rather than up and down the swollen shaft of her brother’s cock.

The more she moved, the harder Tom hammered on her tit-tip with his tongue. His breath shot out of his nostrils like fire from a dragon as he felt his cock begin to tingle with the familiar sensation of impending orgasm. He prayed briefly that his sister would not suddenly pull away from him when he started to come. He wanted more than anything to fill her pussy with his hot load of creamy cum.

But Becky was too turned on to even think about taking or not taking her brother’s jizz. His mouth tortured her with pleasure, and she writhed around, her clit sometimes grinding against the base of his prick and making her move even faster than before. She wiggled and snorted, her eyes closed and her lovely face flushed as she got her older brother off.

Tom chewed on her tit harder as he felt the tide in his balls grow more and more violent. He didn’t know if he should warn his sister or not that his cream was about to erupt. His eyes were open wide, and he looked up the side of Becky’s smiling, panting face. He had never seen her look more beautiful.

Becky felt that familiar knot in her belly and she knew she was about to come, too. She had never come with a cock in her pussy before, and she just knew that this orgasm would be the best of her entire life.  She wiggled around and around, pushing her cunt down around the base of Tom’s prick. She wanted to have all of his cock inside her when the magic moment arrived.

She could feel Tom’s hot breath against her neck and it sent little shivers of excitement down her side. Along with the goose bumps it aroused, she also felt her nipple go harder and stiffer in his mouth.  His tongue lashed it again and Becky let out another high, thin squeal.

Tom reached beneath his undulating sister and grabbed the cheeks of her ass. He held her tightly, trying to hold her still enough that he could fuck her a few last times. The soft flesh of her naked ass filled his palms and he gouged at it with his fingertips, digging into her skin to tame and break her.

With his strong hands holding her that way, Becky could not move as freely as before. But it didn’t much matter because her motions had already taken their toll. When her brother plowed his cock straight down into her one final time, that was all it took to send the young girl over the edge.

“Tommmyyy!” she squealed, her whole body quaking with release.

“Iiiieee!”

Tom leaned against her heavily to keep her from throwing him right off of her. His cock was buried to the root in the undulating chamber of her pussy and then her orgasm reached its peak. It proved too much for the inexperienced fucker, and he let his sister have the load of cream his balls had cooked up for her.

“Agag, gahhh!” he grunted, letting her tit loose and holding her jerking body tight against him. “Ahhh!”

The two of them writhed and spasmed together, neither of them knowing just what would happen next. Their orgasms danced and dove together, one feeding off the other and regenerating itself. The moment went on and on, gathering strength and then ebbing, only to be revived again. But, at last they could come no more and they lay in each other’s arms panting and sighing with relief. Neither wanted to admit that it had been their first fuck, but both of the teenagers knew it would not be their last—with each other or with others.

[spacecowboyhotch]

In Plain Sight, Ch 3: The Tempest

summary: nathan makes his intentions clear and as always…is a bit of an asshole while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nerves, SIBLINGSSSS, mentions of care taking/sick relative, first date?? (after the fact), Nathan being A MEGA SIMPPPPPP

wc: 3,446

an: we get to meet reader’s sisters in this, both of which i love very very much! you also get a bit of reader’s background. and of course, nathan’s attempt at asking someone out. hope y’all enjoy and always thanks for reading! <3

in plain sight masterlist | part 4 | phart 5

Sleep last night was difficult…and interesting. It took you a while to fall asleep, your nerves feeling a little frazzled once you’d gotten in the car and started to think about how you were going to have dinner with Nathan. You’ve spent plenty of time alone with him, but within the boss-employee dynamic. This dinner he’s asked you to could still be that— but you wouldn’t have your usual protections. No pressing questions, no tasks, no screens to hide behind. You and him. And food. When’s the last time you shared a meal with someone other than your sisters?

Once you’d finally succumbed to sleep, your dreams were of him. It felt like nothing and everything all at once. Nathan was there. You’ve never dreamt of him before. You were in Nathan’s house— except it was clear that neither of you were working. You watched a movie together cuddling on the couch, cooked a meal, and took a walk through the forest. While the thought of that would never appeal to you in real life when you wake, there’s a peaceful feeling lingering. It’s a little unsettling.

You hop out of bed before you can allow yourself to start assigning meaning to the dream. It was simply that— a dream. A product of your nerves, and spending nearly every waking moment dedicated to learning, organizing and managing all the aspects of Nathan’s life.

You get caught up in your ungodly long morning routine. Breakfast and tea with your mom as you read from her favorite poetry book, picking your sisters’ lunches, showering. Pressing your sisters’ uniforms. Making sure your mother has everything she needs before the time gap it takes for the nurse to arrive. Writing out a to do list for when you get home and setting out your comfortable clothing. Once everything’s set you change out of your robe and into your work clothes. You’re spending too much time in front of the mirror, fidgeting and analyzing yourself. There’s no need to look perfect, it’s just Nathan. Mr. Bateman, you should call him even in your head for separation.

“You look extra pretty today,” Your youngest sister, Emma, mumbles sleepily from her place in your bed.

You smooth out your skirt for the millionth time, looking over your shoulder at her, “Yeah, you think so Em?”

She yawns, raising a fist to rub at her eye. “You did your hair all nice and you’re wearing a skirt.”

“I wear skirts all the time,” You reason with her (and maybe a little with yourself).

“Not the pretty one.”

You cross the room, leaning in to tickle her, “Hey— are you saying all my other skirts are ugly?”

Emma bursts into a fit of giggles, doing her best to twist away from you. “Stop it,” She wheezes.

“Take it back and I’ll stop,” You reason with her, unable to stop your own laughter.

“I’m sorry, I take it back,” She whines, thrashing playfully beneath you.

“You’re safe for now, little one. Do you want me to make you some oatmeal before I go?”

“Can you eat it with me?” Emma asks, hopeful.

“No, honey, I’ve got to go. But, I’ll be home early tonight. We can watch a movie, how does that sound.”

Emma’s quiet for a few moments, obviously disappointed but then she nods, and cracks a sad smile. You lean in to kiss her forehead, hugging her close.

“Go brush your teeth and I’ll make your breakfast.”

“Do you think sister wants to eat with me?”

It takes effort for you not to cringe. Of course Emma wants to spend time with her other sister, but it seems like Phil is in her fuck any and everyone phase. You’ll try to get through to her though, if not for her own sake, then for Emma’s. A 7 year old shouldn't be spending so much time alone, not when some of her family is right here.

“I’ll ask her. If not, you can go sit with momma, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, little, up up. To the bathroom you go.”

You both stand, and you take her hand, dropping her off at the bathroom on your way to Phil’s room. To your surprise, the girl is already on up and on her phone when you crack the door.

She frowns, letting out a little sigh. “What?”

“Emma wants you to have breakfast with her.”

Phil rolls her eyes, not bothering to look over at you, “I’m not hungry.”

“Phillipa, you should eat. And you should always be excited to spend time with your sister.”

“She’s whiny.”

You cross the room, coming to sit beside her on the bed, “So are you.”

“Yeah and I have reason to be,” She murmurs defiantly.

“And she doesn’t?”

She grows quiet then, her thumb that had been continuously scrolling stopping in its tracks.

“Even if you don’t eat, could you just sit with her?” You ask, knowing that her shell has cracked a little.

“Fine, whatever,” She breathes.

“I’m making her a yogurt bowl. Do you want one?”

“No,” She says quickly, trying to feign uninterest. “Unless we have chocolate chips.”

“We have chocolate chips. And marshmallow fluff.”

“Then I guess I’ll have one.”

“Thank you. I’ll leave some money so you can get one of those fancy coffees from the place near your school. Will you pick a movie for us to watch today?”

“You’re coming home?”

“I should be here by 6…7 at the latest.”

“Oh. Okay,” She says, feigning disinterest.

“That’s all I get? An oh okay? Maybe I should tell Mr. Bateman I can work late.”

“No! You’re never home, c’mon don’t do that.”

“I’m excited to hang out with you too,” You say teasingly, leaning over to rest your head on her shoulder. Surprisingly, she lets you stay there.

“Can I make brownies?”

“As long as you let Emma help.”

“Of course I’ll let her help.”

“You have to be patient with her,” You remind her gently.

“I know, I know. Like you were with me,” She whispers thoughtfully. Sometimes you don’t think you give her enough credit.

“I love you Phillipa. You’re her big sister you know? I’m gone so much trying to make everything work here. She’s looking up to you. She thinks you’re the coolest person in the world.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Can I make her yogurt bowl and you make mine?”

“Sure, sweet girl. Let’s go.”

—

Nathan has never described himself as antsy. Impatient maybe, against delayed gratification sure. Antsy brings a connotation he’s not used to— nerves, a power struggle he’s on the losing side of, and lack of confidence. And while all of that feels true right now he still doesn’t want to admit it. He’s sitting at his desk, waiting for you to get in. His brow is sweaty because he’s been pacing back and forth, changing his mind about where he should be.

Eager to see you, he’d started in your office which is based in one of his many labs. It only took 10 minutes of him pacing in there to think that he was coming on too strong. It led him to the living room, but after sitting for a few minutes lounging at 6:30 in the morning when you were clocking in felt like it would be a slap in the face. He tried the patio, the kitchen, and eventually ended up back in his office.

He’d felt a little good about himself, the fact that he was thinking about this in a way that doesn’t just involve him and his desires. It was one of the reasons he’d realized what was happening to him. He’s doing his best at balancing his protective shell and showing you what he could be. What the two of you could be together.

Nathan loses his breath when you first come up on the camera, walking into your office. He’s always thought you were beautiful but today it seems like you tried to be. That could be his wishful thinking. Either way, he can’t take his eyes off you. You’re wearing a skirt he’s never seen before. A little shorter, a little pleated. It has his mind wandering off to places it shouldn’t, but it’s not like it hasn’t before. He can’t wait to get in the shower long after you left, and imagine what it would feel like to slip you out of it.

He stares…and stares…and stares until he realizes that an hour and half has gone by and he’s done nothing but give himself blue balls while watching you type away on your computer. Fuck, he’s completely at your mercy.

He pings you. Maybe that’ll make it worse, having you right in front of him like this. But, he needs to see you to scratch whatever itch this is in him today. There’s work too, a few things he needs to give to you to file away or mail out.

“Good morning, Mr. Bateman.”

He usually likes it when you call him that— especially when he’s imagining you say it while he runs his hands all over your body, all dirty and forbidden. Today is different. Something about it makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat. With dinner today, his first real shot at trying to know you as something other than his employee. As an outsider like everyone else.

“Would it kill you to call me Nathan?” He asks, raising a brow though his mouth is a little pouty.

It takes everything in you not to laugh. He looks ridiculous when he’s disgruntled. “That would be unprofessional, sir. Are those for me?”

“Yeah, they’re for you. We still on for dinner?”

The words make your stomach flip. Not because you don’t want to, but because you do. Because words like that aren’t supposed to come out of your boss’ mouth. They’re too casual, too much like the one’s men you used to swipe through on your phone said.

“Yes, I’m still able to have dinner with you, sir. Am I able to leave early?” You ask, reaching for the stack of files.

“You can leave whenever you want.”

Your mouth pulls up into a half-smile, and you nod. “Thank you, Mr. Bateman.”

Nathan leaves you be for the rest of the day. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, or be too clingy, something he’s never worried about before. He spends most of the day with the chef, yelling at him that he’s making everything all wrong— too salty or sweet or slimy or acidic— until it’s perfect. He needs it to be perfect. And once it is, he appears in the doorway of the lab your office is in, calling out to you in an uncharacteristically soft manner.

You inhale softly as you two make your way to the kitchen, the smell of familiar herbs and spices in the air. “Italian?”

“Compiled some data— this seemed like the smartest choice.”

“Compiled some data? On me?”

“I compile data on everyone. I need to learn.”

“What could you possibly have to learn about me?”

“Everything. You’re really fucking secretive.”

“I’m not secretive, I’m private,” You reason.

Nathan snorts, looking at you with an expression of disbelief, “You have to realize that those things are the same.”

“They’re not,” You counter before thinking better of it.

This is why you were quiet and avoided him as much as possible— Philippa isn’t the only one in your family with a streak of defiance. Denying authority runs in your blood, it has taken you years to quell it.

“They are if somebody’s trying to get to know you.”

“And that’s what you’re doing, Mr. Bateman? Trying to get to know me?”

He shrugs, feeling a little too unsettled— a little too nervous to reveal his intentions so early on.

“What did you learn with this data you compiled on me?”

“That you like noodle dishes of all kinds, but preferably Italian. And chocolate.”

There are two places settings sat at the corner of the table, a few bowls of various pastas, salads and breads. Dinner is surprisingly calm. He asks you simple, noninvasive questions about your past. He knows where you went to school and what past jobs you’ve had, but he asks you how you felt about them, if you made friends. He asks for your favorite movies and bands, supplying his own when you ask the same questions. It’s the most benign conversation you’ve ever had with him and it feels…good.

He surprises you when he says, “This. Again. Maybe next week?”

Your mouth goes flat with confusion, “You want to have dinner with me again, sir?”

“Nathan,” He suggests, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes narrowing. “If this is some sort of joke, I don’t appreciate it, Nathan.”

Sweet, sweet music to his ears. Even with the attitude in your voice, Nathan drinks in every drop of his name on your tongue. In fact, he thinks the edge makes it better— it makes his blood hot. It makes him want you.

He leans closer, peering at you from over his glasses. “I’m an asshole and a clown, a shitty combination but what I’m not is an idiot, sweetheart. I wouldn’t joke about this,” His face is earnest as he speaks.

But, what does that even mean when it comes to him? You’re not completely sure. What’s worse is that you don’t know if your stomach is flipping at the idea of him telling the truth or disappointment that he may not be. The latter is what scares you most. When did you start to care about him like that?

“You— are you— you’re— you want to date me?”

Nathan bites his tongue for several seconds. He can’t say that he wants to do more than date you. He wants to consume you, to worship you, to spread you across this table and drink from between your legs until you whine and beg him for mercy. He can’t do any of that— not yet at least.

He settles for, “Yes.”

With his affirmative response, with nowhere to hide you look down at your empty plate, trying to process what’s happening. If this is true and he wants to date you, was this your first date? First dates are consensual, and while you had agreed to this dinner with him you hadn’t even been aware of your feelings at the time. Surely you couldn’t date your boss. It’s the total opposite of what you’d been trying to do— keep a low radar and be as competent and professional as possible to keep your family on the right path. You wouldn't jeopardize that for the hot, broad, bearded man sitting in front of you, even if he was looking at you with those gooey brown eyes. How long had you pretended you didn’t see him? How wide he is, how his shirts cling to his shoulders and chest, how sometimes when he comes straight to the lab after boxing his pheromones have you wanting to rut against him like an animal in heat.

You inhale a sharp breath, horrified and surprised by the thoughts racing through your head. It’s like he had unlocked a vault of vulgarities.

Finally, you look at him, apologetic, “Nathan…I can’t. I can’t do something that.”

Nathan notices right away that you didn’t deny feeling anything, and for now that’s enough. It’s an in. And if he’s not mistaken he hears a breathiness in your tone, hunger in your eyes.

“Why?”

“You’re my boss,” You say simply. It seems rather straightforward but Nathan frowns at you in confusion. For a man with such a big brain he could miss the mark sometimes. It would be endearing if it didn’t drive you a little nuts. Okay, maybe it’s both.

“What’s that gotta do with anything?”

“If it went poorly—“

“You think I would fire you over my ego?”

“Quite frankly, yes. I’ve seen how you treat people.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” He insists firmly. He knows it’s true, he just had to convince you.

“How would you know?”

“Because I know.”

“And if I say that’s not good enough? My entire family is dependent on me. On the money I make. I can’t and won’t put that at risk.”

Nathan scoffs, “There is no risk. I’m sure.”

“What if I’m not sure?”

“What’s that gotta do with how I feel?”

“Everything.”

“Nothing. It’s got nothing to do with how I feel, wanna know why? Because I put my ass on the line asking you here, not knowing how the fuck you feel about me. You’re the most elusive, sweet, competent…fucking arousing woman I’ve ever met. I’m spoken for.”

“Prove it,” You challenge.

This time he’s sure. He can hear how winded you sound and he knows that he’s affecting you. He wants to clear the table, crawl across and fuck you until neither of you can think. He’s getting ahead of himself.

“Prove it?”

“A trial of you showing me that all of what you said is true. We can spend more time together, but no commitments, and if it doesn’t work out I keep my job.”

“You sure? You’re gonna fall in love with me,” He warns, his grin mischievous.

“And you’re gonna have to work for it. Have you ever had to court a woman, Mr. Bateman?”

“No, sounds like I’ve got a lot of research to do. I’m a fast learner.”

“That you are.”

“Do you want to know your choices for dessert?”

“There’s choices?”

“Four.”

You grow thoughtful for a moment, before saying, “All of them. Bring me all of them.”

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face— if he wasn’t in love with you already he is now. You allow yourself to look at him, to really look at him. And like this, his teeth white and shiny, eyes crinkled in the corners, warm brown eyes he looks sweet. Lovable. Like he could one day be yours. You won’t get your hopes up, not yet.

—

Nathan walks you to your car. It’s strange, much sweeter than you anticipating him being, but you did tell he had to work for it. You unlock the car with your remote and he gets your door. He ushers you in. He takes your hand and kisses it, his full beard tickling your skin in a way that makes your thoughts go hot and filthy.

“Drive safe for fucks sake.”

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You murmur in that soft little voice.

Nathan raises a brow at you as he leans against the car. “Are you sassing your boss?”

“No. I’m sassing the man that claims he wants to pursue me.”

“I hate to break it to you, but those are the same man, sweetheart,” He teases with a grin.

“Not if he’s gonna get it together, and prove it.”

“Touché. Let me know when you get home?”

“Keeping tabs on me already?”

“I— I always wonder,” He admits softly, and as you peer at him, you notice a soft flush in his cheeks.

He’s going to be the death of you, isn’t he? Getting all soft and sweet and flustered. You want to grab him by the collar and kiss him until his chest heaves with arousal and he cums in his pants. Instead you say: “I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” He takes a step away from the car, trying his best not to show how pleased he is with your agreement.

He feels like a walking raw nerve. You hold his future in your hands— his happiness, his sanity. It’s unhealthy and scary, how much control you have over him. But this time, he knows that the person is worthy. You’re worth any pain you could cause him, and that’s solidified by the way you grin up at him. It’s the brightest thing he’s ever seen. You looking at him like this, your saccharine smile, eyes full of mirth has his brain liquifying.

He grits his teeth at the way you’ve turned him into some Shakespearean loser. He could wax day in and day out about you. Write lines upon lines of code that would program nothing but his feelings for you. It’s stupidly perfect. He wants this with no one else. There is just you. Part of him is convinced that it’s always been you. He’s been on trajectory, making his way to you with every single decision. Fuck Bluebook. Fuck robots and their fake brains and gangly synthetic limbs. Fuck his data. Fuck all of his accomplishments. There’s just you.

“See you tomorrow, Nathan.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @kotaropuppy, @tenderhornynihilist

[morallyinept]

A full character analysis on JAVIER PEÑA from the TV show NARCOS

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

*Contains some comparisons to the real life Javier Peña, on which Pedro's Javier Peña is based on.

Basic Details:

Full Name: Javier Peña

Nickname(s): Javi, also referred to as "Peña" or "Jav" by Steve Murphy

Appears in: Narcos, 2015 (first appearance on screen in episode 1, season 1 at approx. 31:41)

Age (if known): Unconfirmed, suspected late 30's, possibly early-to-mid 40's

Sexuality: Straight - Javi was previously engaged to a woman named Lorraine back in Laredo, and also regularly sleeps with female hookers. He also hooked up with a female colleague, Katie, and slept with M-19 co-leader Elisa Álvarez, whilst temporarily hiding her in his apartment.

Nationality: Texan, Javi is from Laredo, Texas, with Mexican roots

Family: Father, Chucho Peña. There is brief mention of an aunt.

Spouse/Partner: No mention of a current partner.

Relationship Status: Currently single, was previously engaged to Lorraine.

Current Living Status: Alive

Languages Spoken: Spanish, English

Education: Presumed at least high school educated as he works for the government and the DEA as a Special Agent

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: DEA Special Agent, and later as Country Attaché

Special Skill(s): Combat training, guns and ammo, detective work, undercover work, anti-terrorism, anti-drugs trafficking, tactical

Notable Colleague(s): Steve Murphy, General Carillo

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None notable

Other Markings: None notable

Prominent Feature(s): Clean shaven face with a prominent pencil moustache

Injuries: Javi doesn't suffer any serious injuries. He does, however, endure very minor slips and stumbles when chasing down Narcos/suspects, most notably in season 3 when he chases down Franklin Jurado and jumps down a balcony, which leaves him limping for a few moments after as he runs.

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown

Personality:

Traits: Determined, persuasive, adept

Javi is purported to be originally from Laredo, Texas. (The real life Javier Pena was born and raised in Hebbronville, Texas.)

Javi starts off as a special agent for the DEA, and then later becomes Country Attaché for Colombia, as titled on his business card we see in season 3. An attaché is normally an official, who serves either as a diplomat or as a member of the support staff, under the authority of an ambassador or other head of a diplomatic mission, mostly in intergovernmental organizations or international non-governmental organisations or agencies.

Narcos is set between the late 1970's until the early 1990's.

Javi appears to type at a slow to medium pace, using both his index fingers on the keys, and uses a typewriter when typing up his reports at his desk.

Whilst Javi tends to skirt the line of morals at times, it's clear that using any means necessary to capture Escobar is something he will entertain, and states himself, even if it means getting close to his enemies and playing on both sides. This is evident when he uses and provides intel to Judy Moncada and Don Berna, which then include the Los Pepe's murders, and ends up working with the Castaño's to get Christina Jurado back.

Javi is seen making the decision to gun down Gacha in the chopper, and states that he'll "sleep tonight" when asked if he's alright. He also shoots a man - who claims he's a politician - in the gut to get answers. This behaviour indicates that Javi will make choices that potentially risk him being the "bad guy" and putting his career at risk, in order to seek justice and bring down Escobar and the Cali Cartel. Subsequently his choices catch up with him when he's fired at the end of season 2, for his involvement with Los Pepes.

Whilst we don't see Javi physically cry during Narcos, he does get watery-eyed when talking to his father Chucho in the car on the way back from the wedding, and also when Carillo shoots a child at point blank range and Steve asks him what's going on. Javi deals with his emotions by either drinking (we see him frequent many bars and drinking what appears to be Whiskey), or by indulging in sex.

Javi appears to have had specialist combat training at some point in his career - we see him descending from a helicopter into the jungle via rope line, which isn't standard training for police or DEA, unless you're in a specialist unit.

The real life Javier Peña served as a deputy sheriff for Webb County sheriff’s office in Laredo from 1975 to 1984, and then continued his service with the DEA until his retirement in 2014. In the show it appears that Javi has his career solely in the DEA as there isn't mention of anything else. Steve states that he is a "lifer" in the DEA when they're both at the airport whilst Javi is waiting for his flight home back to the USA after his dismissal.

Javi is seen drinking coffee regularly, presumed black as he is not seen adding any milk/cream or sugar, and also drinks Whiskey. When Helena asks what drink he can offer her, he replies "Whiskey or water." Javi is seen ordering a Whiskey Dry at the bar in season 3. It appears Whiskey is his drink of choice.

Javi appears to shake and twitch his left hand fingers when he's apparently anxious. He does this a few times throughout the show. (This may actually be a trait that Pedro has himself, as he also does this for his character Joel Miller in The Last Of Us.)

Javi uses flirting as a way of persuading women to help him. He does this with Colleen by complimenting her nails when he needs her signature. He tells the Ambassador she's wearing a beautiful dress when he gets her to agree to his needs in season 1. He also tries it with Christina by flirting and buying her a drink with the intention of getting her to talk, although that goes south pretty quickly due to her loyalty to her husband.

Javi looks "after his own". He demonstrates this several times by telling Steve to say he knows nothing and that it was all Javi if Steve were to be questioned about Los Pepes. He also does this again in season 3 on the plane with Fiestl and his team, telling them that it all comes back on him if it goes awry. This indicates he wants to protect others.

Javi's dad says it means a lot to his "tía" that Javi came to the wedding. Tía is the Spanish word for Aunt.

Javi calls his father "dad", "pop" and "pops". It seems they have a good, close relationship as Chucho seems to know a lot about Javi's career, and they've seemingly had talks about it before. There is no mention of Javi's mother during the show.

Javi is generally a pretty good shot with a gun; he's able to shoot the guerrilla holding Christina hostage - whilst wearing night vision goggles, which is actually harder to do than without, due to depth of field - in the face on a single shot. However, he's not a good shot when shooting the pigeons, missing every one. He claims it's because he's never been duck hunting when Steve jibes him for it.

Javi's Smoking Habits:

Javi is an avid smoker and it appears he smokes from the brand Marlboro, determined by the box shown on Gabriela's bedside table, and glimpses of the red boxes he has throughout the show.

Javi is seen actively smoking - or with a cigarette, even if it's not yet lit - in a total of 44 scenes across all three seasons. (13 scenes in season 1, 25 scenes in season 2 and 6 scenes in season 3.)

In episode 1 of season 3, Javi explains to Lorraine he's quitting smoking as he chews Nicorette gum. However, later at the end of the same episode, he's seen smoking as he wakes up in bed with Katie asleep beside him. Season 3 is the the least amount of times he's seen smoking however, indicating he's possibly trying to stay true to quitting.

Javi mostly smokes using his right hand, holding the cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger.

Javi's Lovers:

Javi has several lovers and appears to know and frequent prostitutes/hookers regularly, using them for information, as well as hook ups. This is more apparent in season 1 and 2 and less seen and mentioned in season 3. Assumed because Javi's job is more senior in season 3 and he has more of a reputation to uphold.

It appears statistically, based off of physical looks alone, that Javi possibly prefers brunettes.

He sleeps with prostitute Helena Sotomayor in season 1 whom he uses and pays for information, and it seems he does have affection for her as he states "we get better each time we practice," indicating he sleeps with her regularly. She is subsequently attacked and viciously raped, before can Javi rescue her. His first sex scene in the show is with Helena on his loveseat in his apartment.

Javi then sleeps with M-19 Militia co-leader, Elisa Álvarez in season 1, when Connie brings her to Javi's apartment to protect and hide. Although they don't have a sex scene, they are shown naked in bed together. Javi is seen discussing getting her somewhere safe, however she states he isn't responsible for her. He nuzzles in and kisses her softly.

Javi has a regular hook-up with a prostitute named Gabriela in season 2. His second sex scene is with Gabriela in her apartment in her bedroom. Prior to that, he is seen wearing his jeans and smoking at the window, whilst she is naked on the bed, assumed after sex between them, and they talk together. Javi is seen rubbing her stomach affectionately.

Javi hooks up with a colleague called Katie in season 3. He doesn't have a sex scene with her, but wakes up in bed naked with her still asleep at dawn, and smokes a cigarette he takes from her purse.

Javi refers to some prostitutes by name and nickname in season 1, "Freckles" and "Vanessa", indicating he knows them quite well when he and Steve arrest McPickle at the private brothel, which Javi swears he doesn't know about with a smirk to Steve.

Javi was previously engaged to a woman back in Laredo called Lorraine. He tells Steve that he left her on their wedding day as he couldn't go through with it, and states "she's better off." Later we see Javi talking with her at the wedding they're both guests at in season 3 in Laredo. She has since remarried someone else called Randy. Javi apologizes to her indicating he still feels remorse for what he did. Lorraine says it's taken him "ten years" to apologise, indicating the length of time that has passed between them. Lorraine also appears to have had 2 children with Randy.

Javi's sex is generally affectionate, with lots of kissing, touching and nuzzling. He does this with both Helena and Elisa, and with both these women it's indicated that he possibly feels some genuine affection for them. He has a regular thing with Gabriela in season 2 and is seen talking with her about writing and why she continues to be a prostitute. Later however, he has rough sex with Gabriela after Carillo shoots the child in front of him. He has sex with Gabriela from behind and pulls on her hair.

Javi's Apartment:

Javi's apartment is a government issue apartment in Colombia. It's on the ground floor in an apartment block.

For an in depth look at Javi's apartment, please see these amazing posts already made by @pedropascalito

A look at Javi's Apartment & Another glimpse at the details

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfits - Javi's look is styled predominantly in the time period when Narcos is set - the late 70's, 80's, and into the early 90's. However, Javi's fashion very much clings onto the 70's vibe.

He wears lots of button down shirts in different colours, patterns and fits, with some being more fitted, and other's more square and loose looking on his frame. He often leaves his top few shirt buttons undone.

He wears mostly jeans, blue denim, that are tight fitting and slightly flared/bootcut around the ankle.

When he wears a suit, it's often a dark grey, brown or blue colour or a lighter pale shade, as was the style at the time. The suit jacket often appears a little too big for him, again as was the style back then with large shoulder pads and baggier slacks. He wears a variety of patterned ties when he wears a suit. He'll also leave the top button undone on his shirt and wear his tie slightly loose at the knot.

When he's doing field work, he dresses casually in shirts, jeans, boots and jackets. He wears green camo in the jungle when rescuing Christina.

He has a black, well worn leather jacket, and also several different styles of jacket, including denim and corduroy.

He wears a plaid shirt to the wedding in season 3, in homage to his Southern heritage.

He wears boots that have a small heel, and is seen wearing cowboy boots also in some scenes.

He wears aviator sunglasses with a yellow hue lens, which was a popular look in the 70's.

Accessories: Silver wrist watch worn on left wrist, handguns Beretta & Zoraki, handcuffs, aviator sunglasses, police badge. He uses a large sat phone and then later a smaller mobile phone in season 3. He carries his cigarettes, lighter and car keys in his jacket pockets. Javi has a pager in season 1 that he wears on his belt on his left hip. He also has a brown leather gun holster that he keeps on his left side in season 1, which is seen in a couple of shots.

Javi's Shirts range in colour and pattern, yet he mostly wears short-sleeved button ups. He often leaves the top two buttons open. A selection of some of his shirts:

Javi's Jackets include leather, denim, corduroy and sleeveless styles:

Javi's Suits are a selection of dark colours and pale two-piece combos, usually worn with a white shirt and selection of ties:

Javi's sunglasses are classic yellow lens tinted aviators, as was popular in the 1970's. He wears the same pair throughout all 3 seasons:

Javi's Tac Vest is a green combat military style, issued by the DEA, with a single front holster for his Beretta. He wears it during all three seasons:

Some accessories of Javi's seen in season 2 on Gabriela's bedside table: Marlboro cigarette box & blue lighter, silver watch, handcuffs in leather pouch, police DEA badge and his Beretta:

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Javi has two primary hand guns as his main weapons.

In season 1, he uses a Zoraki 914 pistol, which is a smaller model.

In seasons 2 & 3, his main weapon is a Beretta 9mm magnum 92FS series. He keeps his Beretta in his left side desk drawer when at his desk. He also wears his Beretta tucked into his belt behind his back.

In the scene where Javi & Steve are shooting the pigeons, Javi uses a Benelli M3 Super 90 Shotgun.

Javi also uses a rifle in season 3 in the episode where he rescues Christina from the jungle. It appears to be a carbine rifle, possibly an M16 model, however the exact model is not 100% confirmed anywhere.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Javi owns and drives a Jeep Cherokee during seasons 1 & 2 - License plates are shown as REW-950, B35-17T & MOP-920. The license plate of Javi's Jeep Cherokee changes three times during the first two seasons. This is because private car license plates in Colombia were black and white from 1973 to 1990, while yellow and black plates introduced in 1991.

Javi owns and drives a 1995 Ford Explorer in Silver Grey in season 3 - License Plate BPL-729.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Javi's full dialogue from the show, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Javier Peña fandom Wiki Page

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

[cherrychilli]

MDNI, NSFW, AFAB reader, divorced Dilf! Steve, Babysitter reader, oral sex(M), cum play, age gap (Steve is in his early 40's, reader is in her early 20's)

A/N: This takes place before the events of my first Dilf! Steve drabble. I'm also working on another drabble about the first time they did the deed so look out for that!)

You scrutinize your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you fix your hair and dab on a fresh coating of scented lip balm over your lips. You'd much prefer your signature shade of lipstick and an outfit different to the t-shirt and skirt combo that you're currently dressed in but this is the best you can afford to do without raising any suspicion. You needed to be careful. You didn't want to be made the subject of the latest small town scandal and you knew people would start to ask questions if they ever saw you getting all dolled up to babysit at Steve Harrington's house.

You saunter into his study once you're ready, closing the door gently behind you and turning the key for good measure. You find him at his desk where he's been for the past few hours, looking both pensive and deflated as he poured over paperwork. You'd been sneaking glances at him all day, growing resentful of the work that held his attention. That wasn't all. Feelings of sympathy tugged at you too. It was hard to ignore when seeing the stack of thick files piled next to him and the empty coffee mug with World's Best Dad blown up in big black lettering now cold and pushed aside after several refills. He looks up from the handful of important looking papers fanned across his desk when you enter, assessing you over the rim of his reading glasses. He notices how your skirt appears shorter now than it did earlier thanks to some intentional adjusting when you readied yourself in the guest bathroom.

He knows now. Steve looked forward to your "surprise visits" but he never failed to get the formalities out of the way first.

"The kids?", he asks, expression neutral.

"Asleep. Completely wiped out after playing with the Donovan boys", you inform him, leaning over his desk to let your cleavage show. He allows his gaze to fall to your chest now that the two of you are alone, something he tried very hard (and sometimes failed) to keep from doing when others were around, Not that anyone had noticed, thankfully.

"And Martha?"

The kids were one thing but Steve's housekeeper was the one who really kept you on your toes, unbeknownst even to her. There was always the chance she might notice a lingering look or subtle touch and realize something bigger was going on right under her own nose. She'd also have more credibility if she were to tell people that there was something going on between Mr. Harrington and the pretty babysitter nearly half his age. The kids on the other hand who although were the sweetest, were much less likely to be believed. They were still in that phase where they spouted the occasional harmless yet wildly imaginative lie in the hopes of impressing friends and grownups.

"Out shopping for tonight's dinner", you assured him with a coy smile.

You walk around the corner of his desk, hips swaying as he turns his chair to face you. Martha may be gone for now but she had proved she was worth the money she was paid. She was efficient, reliable and punctual above all else, meaning you wouldn't have as much time as you would have liked to be alone together. Foregoing any kind of buildup, you drop to your knees, hands reaching to toy with Steve's belt. "Wanna suck your cock, Mr. Harrington", you announced. It was blunt, you knew and gathering from his widened eyes you were certain he thought so too.

"Please, can I?", you begged, voice sticky like honey and dripping with urgency.

You can see the traces of fatigue starting to fade from his features as he cups your cheek with a large palm, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, all soft and plush from the balm. You're already undoing his belt, popping open the button on his pants and pulling at the zip. "You've been so tense lately" you cooed. "Working so hard. All those late nights", you reminded. "I Just want to help you unwind."

You reach inside to rub him over his boxers, parting your lips at the same time to lick at his thumb. "Shit", he hisses. He'd only fucked your mouth once before - and just barely because that tryst was cut short when Martha had come back home after forgetting her purse one night. You hid behind the kitchen island when you heard the front door open, crouched down by Steve's legs with your lips all puffy and slick with spit and precum. You cowered while he pretended to have come in for a glass of water as he so explained, or more so stammered, to Martha who hadn't asked because why would she? it was his house. What was so unusual about wanting a drink of water in your own house? She might have suspected something if she didn't already think you had been sent home for the day, not knowing that you were staying over after hours when she was off the clock and the kids had been put to bed. As she politely collected her purse and left for the second time the both of you agreed, no more fooling around unless it's behind locked doors.

His length was already growing stiff as he watched you on your knees, begging to have his cock in your mouth like some naughty fantasy come to life. Maybe you were right, he thought. Maybe he had been working too hard lately. Maybe he had been sifting through files and contracts for a few hours too long and the exhaustion had numbed him momentarily because why the hell hadn't he started unzipping his pants himself the moment you got on your knees for him?

"Fuck- alright", he relented, suddenly feeling more enlivened than he had been the entire day as he helped you to pull his boxers down. Your expression turns glassy as you stare at his cock when it bobs free, saliva pooling in your mouth. He was bigger than anyone you'd ever been with before and you found that you were still getting used to it. You wrap your fingers around his impressive girth as best you can and lap at the blurt of precum weeping from his tip, catching it on your tongue and sucking it into your mouth in a filthy display. "Jesus Christ" he groans, balls feeling tight at the sight of you like this. A distant cry from the reputable young woman people thought you to be. "Tell me how you like it", you request, breath fanning over his cock as you pant softly. "I wanna make you feel good, Mr. Harrington". He curses again under his breath because how can you look so sweet and sincere when you're begging for something as indecent as having your mouth full of him.

"Okay I-uh, I like it a little messy", he admits. "Can you spit on it? 'want you to get it really wet for me, sweetheart".

You do as he says, first spitting into your palm to wrap around him again and then leaning closer to dribble some spit onto his tip and rest of his shaft to help coat him.

"Little more- Yeah, just like that...start moving your hand, baby- squeeze it a little, okay?"

You pump him just as he instructed, only speeding up when he tells you to. It's still on the slower side - a steady, rhythmic schlick that fills your ears and makes your belly burn. You don't put your mouth on him. Not yet because he hasn't given you permission. You're trying to be obedient, not knowing that he's getting off on the desperate look on your face as your eyes flick back and forth from his erection and his face. You work yourself up even more at the taste the fruity balm when you bite your lip, wishing once again that you'd been able to dress up for him just so he could ruin your pretty lipstick till his cock bears messy traces of your favorite shade. You're growing more needy as you listen to all the noises spilling out of him, deep throaty groans and half restrained moans that have you rubbing your thighs together in search of some kind of friction. You don't want to divert from the way he's guiding you but you can't hold off wanting to taste him any longer. "Mr. Harrington, please, can I suck it? I want to feel it in my mouth again", you whimper meekly.

You've got his cock in your hand and you're the one begging? He chuckles softly at that. "Go ahead, get your pretty lips on me", he finally grants.

You're on him quick, popping his fat head in your mouth and wrapping your lips around it. You suck gently at first, hand still stroking his base and when you begin to bob your head you moan around him like you've been starved for this. "That's it, baby- shit keep going", he encourages you. You grow bolder when his hand weaves into your hair and you take him in further and further until you feel him bump the back of your throat. Tears gather in your eyes then as you choke, throat clamping around him when you gag, squeezing his cock. "Fuck", he tightens his grip on your hair. "Do that again", he watches you with half lidded eyes, tears spilling down your face as you struggle to take it.

You can feel the spit and precum seeping out of the corners of your mouth and trail down your chin. It's messy, just as he asked for and he praises you again and again. "You're doing so well, baby- making me feel so good", hips bucking up lightly into your mouth. Every time you pull off for air, spit and precum web from his throbbing length to your panting lips. You lick up the underside of his cock hungrily after you catch your breath, following the gentle curve of it, feeling the veins pulse and throb when your tongue glides over the sensitive skin. When you reach his ruddy tip again, you swirl your tongue around it, eyes never leaving his.

"Want your cum", you puff out desperately, voice hoarse from having having him fuck your throat. "Please?"

You see his expression shift and you're just about to ask him if he's close when he cuts you off with a curt command. "Get up".

You worry you've done something wrong until he's flipping you around and pressing you against his desk. He hastily pushes the fanned out papers to the side, letting them flutter and strew on the floor.

"Hands on the desk", he growls. You plant them there without question, whimpering when you feel him pull at your skirt. He holds the material up with one hand, yanking your soaked panties down your thighs with the other.

"M-Mr. Harrington?" you stutter, never finishing the question but he knows what you mean to ask. Are you going to fuck me?. You want him to. Desperately. But you know there's no time. Martha would be home any minute now and you couldn't risk having her wonder where you were. There'd be no way to hide what you'd been doing if she caught you sneaking out of Steve's study, looking like this.

"Not this time, sweetheart", he answers, kicking your legs apart as he strokes his cock between your thighs. "'Gonna give you what you asked for."

You gasp when you feel it, ropes of his cum catching on your inner thighs and the gusset of your panties. You quiver in place when he pulls your panties up, pressing his hot wet release right up against you. He fixes himself behind you as you process the mess between you legs, circling your hips experimentally so you can feel it spread between your folds.

"You've got an hour left, right?", he breaths low against your ear. You nod your head when your voice fails you, feeling spent. "You're going to wear these home today", he commands, his fingers snaking under your skirt to circle your clit over your soiled panties. "Want you to think of me while you drip", pressing a kiss against your tear stained cheek. "And tomorrow you're going to come in early so I can fuck you proper, understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Harrington", you manage to answer this time, tone taking on a pitiful whine.

"Good. Now go get cleaned up".

[bupia]

Hi, Swiss, 42 and 33 Thank you :D x

MORNING SEX

“I won’t hurt you.” "So excited already."

There's a smut bellow the cut, +18 only, please.

(fem!reader. oral sex: m-f; unprotected sex; penetration: p in v)

Available on AO3

Day 5 | Day 7

"Good morning, sis," Swiss voice cut through the kitchen, startling you as you jumped in surprise.

"Swiss! You can't just barge in like this! Knock next time!" you exclaimed, placing a hand over your racing heart.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," you replied, taking a deep breath. "Why are you here so early? I'm still getting breakfast ready for everyone."

"Oh, I came to talk to you. I knew you'd be up before anyone else, your early rising habits never fail," he teased.

"If you're here for food, I'm afraid it's not ready yet."

"No, it's not about food. It's about you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you see, I'm quite hungry, and," he stepped closer. "Only you can satisfy that hunger."

"What do you mean?" you asked, feeling a nervous flutter in your chest.

"I mean that I've mustered the courage to come here and... Take you."

"Take me? What do you mean by 'take me'?" you inquired nervously.

"You know exactly what I mean," his voice grew husky.

"I'm not sure I do."

"Then allow me to demonstrate," he replied with a seductive tone.

He moved closer, pressing against you, making you feel uneasy. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you close.

"May I?" he asked, whispering.

You nodded and his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, then became more passionate, with his tongue invading your mouth. You felt yourself melting against him, your body responding to his touch. Your body began to tingle and you felt yourself grow wet between your legs. You moaned against his lips and he pulled back slightly, and began to kiss down your neck, causing goose bumps to rise on your skin.

"S-Swiss..." you moaned his name, a little breathless. "I have things to do, and the others can arrive at any moment."

"But I want you now. I don't care if they are here or not," he whispered, nibbling your earlobe. "Don't you want me too?"

A gasp escaped your mouth followed by a soft groan. You bit your lower lip, closing your eyes. You nodded and slowly opened your eyes, looking at him.

"So allow me to show you how good I can make you feel," he said with a smile. He lifted you off the ground and sat you on the kitchen's counter.

He slowly lifted your habit's skirt, kissing every inch of exposed skin. You shivered as goosebumps rose on your skin. He kissed your inner thighs, causing you to squirm and bite your lip again.

"Don't worry, I won't leave any marks," he assured you.

He continued to kiss your thighs, moving upwards towards your wet center. He kissed your mound, causing you to jump. You let out a small whimper and he continued kissing and licking your legs. His hands went to the waistbands of your panties, pulling it down to your ankles.

"So excited already," he whispered.

He smiled, moving his head between your legs. He closed his eyes, licking your slit, tasting your juices. He licked up one side, then down the other, causing you to squirm and moan.

"Ah-! Satan!" you moaned.

"I appreciate the compliment, but I prefer you to call me as Swiss," he said, in a teasing tone.

He places his hands on your hips, holding you steady. He continued lapping your juices. You moaned and groaned, unable to form coherent words. He went with his mouth to your clit, sucking it into his mouth, flicking it with his forked tongue. You screamed and he quickly withdrew his head from between your legs.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asked, looking up at you.

"No, no, it just feels very good," you panted.

"Does it? So tell me how much you like it," he whispered.

He smiled, then returned to pleasuring you. His mouth went back to your clit, licking it. You hips bucked as he went back to suck it into his mouth, making you squirm. You couldn't respond; you were out of your mind. His wet and warm mouth on your clit were sending shivers down your spine. He sucked harder, circling your clit with his tongue. You moaned, grinding yourself into his face.

"Oh... Swiss, please, please don't stop," you groaned. "Please, it's so good."

Swiss moaned against your clit, adding an extra vibration to your core. He released your clit, and moved his mouth to your entrance. He drank on your juices, savoring them. You were screaming, and screaming so loud that you were afraid someone could listen. But the way Swiss were licking faster and sucking your entrance, it was hard to keep it still.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Swiss, you are going to make me cum, if you... Ah-!"

He then stood up. He looked down at you, smiling. "Not yet, sis."

He pulled you into him. Your arms wrapped around him, and you kissed him deeply. You could feel his hardness pressed against you. You felt his hands move over your body, caressing your skin. He broke the kiss, and leaned in, kissing your cheek, close to a mole on your face.

"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time," he said, pulling away a from you. "I have been watching you since you arrived here, and I just wanted to have you all for myself."

"You can have me," you whispered.

Swiss moved closer to you, but suddenly a nearby noise caught both your attention. He quickly took your hand and guided you away from the kitchen counter, leading you into a nearby door and closing it. It took a moment for you to realize your surroundings: you were inside a condiments closet.

"I don't think this was the best idea," you whispered.

"I wasn't thinking," Swiss admitted. "I saw the door and went for it."

"Let's just wait until they leave, and then we can go out quietly," you suggested, speaking softly.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you to be silent?" Swiss teased, his hands on your waist, pressing you against the door. "Or did you really think we were finished?"

"Swiss, what are you saying?"

"I haven't had enough," he whispered, his face drawing closer to yours. "I haven't had enough of you, not yet."

"What do you mean? You're not thinking of doing it here, are you?" you asked nervously.

"I am," he nodded. "But don't worry, I won't hurt you."

"I'm not concerned about you hurting me. I'm worried about someone hearing or catching us," you whispered anxiously.

"So, I guess you'll have to be very quiet, won't you?" Swiss replied with a mischievous grin.

You gulped. "I can't believe we're doing this," you muttered under your breath.

Swiss leaned in even closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. "Sometimes, the thrill is worth it," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

He moved his hand from your waist to your hip. The touch sent tingles through your body. Swiss leaned in, kissing your neck, licking it. Your body was shaking from anticipation, you wanted him so badly. His tongue slid along your neck, and you moaned. He sucked on your skin, and then he bit you gently. You gasped, his teeth scraped over your flesh, your hands found their way to his head, holding him close to you. His fingers found their way into your hair, pulling your hair back.

"Please..." you begged, your voice hoarse.

Swiss looked up at you. "Please what?"

"Please... fuck me," you groaned.

He smiled, and then he leaned forward again, kissing your neck. Hi mouth moved to your chin, kissing you there as well. You felt his hand slide up your habit skirt and you bit your lip. His fingers brushed across your wetness, making you whimper. Swiss turned your back to him, pressing your body on the door, you reached for your habit skirt holding it for him. He grabbed your waist, positioning you for him.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked with lust on his voice.

"Yes, yes I am," you replied.

Swiss unbuttoned his pants. He fumbled with his belt, and unzipped them. He went with his hand to your slid, running along it. He pulled your legs apart. Swiss slid his length in you slowly, you gasped as you felt him enter you. It was bigger and thicker than you expected.

"Ah!" you moaned loud. "Oh, fuck, Swiss!"

"I love how wet you are," he said, pushing in deeper.

"Mmmm," you moaned softly. "So big."

"That feels so good, sis, you feel so good," he whispered. "I've waited so long for this."

He started moving his hips, slowly sliding his length in and out of you. Swiss pushed in deeper, and you cried out. He increased his pace, grabbing your hips firmly, thrusting faster in you. You could hear your body banging against the door, and probably other siblings would be hear it, but you didn't care anymore at this point. Swiss felt so good inside you that you only could think about it.

"Yes, Swiss, yes, please fuck me hard," you moaned, rolling your eyes to the back of your head. "Please, don't stop, fuck, it's so go-good."

"Yeah? Does my cock feels good inside you?" he asked, with a wicked grin.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes! It feels amazing, you feel amazing inside me," you moaned in pleasure.

Swiss picked up the pace even more. He slammed his length into you over and over again, the sounds of your body slamming against the door became louder. He was going faster and faster, thrusting into you ever harder. He withdrew a hand from your hips, going to your hair under your veil, grabbing it, pulling it. Swiss groaned loudly, you grid your hips against his, while he pumped you hard. You screamed, squeezing your walls around him.

"Sister, fuck! Don't do it, don't make your pussy that tighter for me," he said, growling.

"I- I- I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Swiss," you cried, rolling your hips around his length.

He slapped your ass, making you moan loud, slamming his member inside you. Your nails went to the door, scratching it, sticking up your ass in his direction. He pulled it out and slid it inside you. He did it again, and again. You whined, and he grabbed your shoulders, pushing you to his direction, going deeper than before. You opened your moth in a loud silent moan, feeling your body trembling.

"Swi-Ah! Swiss... Swiss... Swiss... Fuck me, fuck me, Oh my Satan!"

"Yes, yes, sister, moan my name, moan my name while I fuck your tight pussy!"

He started to move roughly inside you, going back with his hands to your waist, holding you. He was pumping inside you, and you clenched again around him feeling your body tensing up. Swiss adjusted his body behind you, hitting the right spot inside you. He lowered his body onto yours, resting on your back. One of his hand went to your clit, rubbing it hard. You threw your head back, resting it on his shoulder.

"Swiss, you're going to make me cum, I'm going to cum," you said, breathing heavily.

"Yes, that's what I want, Sister, cum for me, cum on my cock," he demanded.

You arched your back, letting out a loud groan, cumming on his length. Swiss kept moving in and out of you, your walls twitched around his length.

"Oh, fuck, Sister!" he grunted. "I'm going to cum, I-!"

You closed your eyes tightly, and he held himself inside you and he shot his load deep inside you. He collapsed his body on your back, panting heavily. You smiled, biting your lower lip, feeling him filling you inside. Suddenly, you realized how noisy you two were.

"Do you think someone heard us?" you asked, gasping for air.

"I think everyone listened to us, Sister," Swiss replied, chuckling.

[mikalara-dracula]

Shu kiss headcons?

What it's like to kiss Shu—

Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor and aren't comfortable with slight NSFW, sexual arousal, and orgasm-related concepts. This is a fictional work and should not be taken seriously.

Caution: Unfortunately, Tumblr has a history of admins quarreling over completing carbon copy asks due to users sending the same request(s) to multiple admins, thus, resulting in unintentional plagiarism. With this, please DO NOT send the same request to multiple blogs as it can cause unintended plagiarism discord to other blogs across Tumblr. The word “plagiarism” stems from the early 17th-century Latin word, “plagiarius,” meaning “kidnapper.” So please, do not send in the same request to multiple blogs and make admins appear to be “kidnapping” other people’s work when it isn’t their intention. If this is to occur with any of my posts, please contact me so we can work something out.

Hi there, Anon!

Thank you so much for requesting! I'm very sorry about the wait! I hope you enjoy reading it. Feel free to request again anytime! :)

😘 Hm, kissing Shu is quite the privilege.

😘 I mean, isn’t it everyone’s dream lmao xDD

😘 For starters, Shu isn’t the type to kiss his lover often since he’s just so lazy to even start.

😘 So, most of the time, you’ll be the one initiating kisses.

😘 But he isn’t at all opposed to this since it’s actually canon that he gets off on girls kissing him first.

😘 Yui kissed him first in one of the mangas and he was beyond amused, so you can best bet he’s going to do the same if you do this.

😘 However, if Shu’s feeling up to kissing/making out with you, make no mistake that this lazy ass has more moves than you think when it comes to this.

😘 His kisses range between slow and sensual versus ravenous and fast. This really depends on his mood though.

😘 Make note that most of the time, he’s a tease and will tease you to no end.

😘 Such as getting very close to you, leaning in and making you think he’s going to kiss you, only to back away and leave you with a stupid look on your face to which he would not stop teasing you for.

😘 Asshole.

😘 And bear in mind that this is only the beginning of his teasing.

😘 If you blush/turn red due to his kisses, he's so going to tease you for it, it's actually canon that he does this.

😘 Definitely into lip biting, and if you do it to him, it gets him really riled up.

😘 He even likes to get cocky when kissing you.

😘 "Admit it, you like kissing the heir." He’d smirk.

😘 “Shut up!”

😘 Might even say you have sexual fantasies about him. This is canon because he's teased Yui about this subject.

😘 This mf.

😘 Also likes kissing your jawline and leaving a love bite or two near your ear in hopes that his brothers will notice.

😘 In a heated makeout, he has a thing for kissing your chest and then trailing his kisses down to your abdomen.

😘 Kissing your inner/outer thighs is a die-hard thing for him since thighs are one of his favorite parts because he can grip and adjust them to his liking when he’s getting intimate with you.

😘 Your neck—For one, he likes to kiss it and trail his kisses down its surface, along with leaving love bites here and there.

😘 Your collarbone—He finds this a great place to trail down to after he’s passed your neck, and leaving love bites here is a must for him as well.

😘 Likes to grip your hips, thighs, or ass when making out in hopes that you moan.

😘 And if he gets this reaction out of you, he's not going to let you live it down.

😘 Likes to touch and feel you a lot when he’s making out with you, and sometimes, he does leave bruises behind due to his vampire strength and how lewd “passionate” he was being.

😘 If you’re wearing a flowy skirt, he’s going to take full advantage of this and definitely stick his hand up it in an attempt to either grab your crotch or finger to get a reaction out of you when making out.

😘 Fuck.

😘 If you’re wearing a loose top and your chest ends up spilling out due to him being a bit rough, he won’t resist to suck them, leave hickies there or draw blood if he’s thirsty.

😘 Doesn’t care whether you’re on top or under him when making out. It just doesn’t matter to him as he’s quite open to you dominating, but bear in mind, he wants to win when it comes to this.

😘 After all, he's implied that prefers to be in charge/on top in this situation because he feels more like himself when he does (this was in one of the game routes), and here’s proof of him being in either position with Yui according to official art:

😘 If he’s in a soft mood, however, and wants to be sentimental, he likes to place soft kisses in your hair if he's either sitting or standing next to you.

😘 As for location of where he likes to kiss you, it’s anywhere honestly.

😘 Or on whatever surface he's sleeping on. xDD

😘 One of his favorite places is the living room coach since he's famous for sleeping there.

😘 And if his brothers walk in on you two making out, especially Reiji, he's beyond amused and proceeds to give more of a show, and will try and succeed to make you moan in front of whoever his audience is. It’s actually canon that he likes giving these lewd “shows.”

😘 His bed—if it’s not the living room couch, he’s retired to his bed, and this is definitely a place he likes to kiss you because he has much more privacy than out in the open.

😘 Here, he might even take advantage of the situation by being a bit more touchy and engage in foreplay if he wants a passionate session with you.

😘 Also likes to kiss you in the stairwells at school, and if a teacher or other school staff member catches you both, he’s beyond amused since he literally lives for the risk of getting caught. And yes, that’s canon too.

😘 Tbh, him acting flirty in front of teachers is actually canon since he did this to Yui once in class (in one of the game routes) and the teacher scolded him for it. xDD

😘 And of course, you have to scold him for it since, lets just say, he likes to give certain staff members a “show” to which you and him end up getting in trouble for.

😘 “Shu! Why did you do that? I didn’t need another detention slip.”

😘 “Who cares. Why don’t you just do what I do with detention?”

😘 “And that is?”

😘 “Don’t go.”

😘 “Shu!”

😘 It’s canon that Shu likes to hang out in the terrace/rooftop area at school, so if you come up to see him during school breaks, he’s definitely going to take the opportunity to share a few kisses with you if he’s in the mood for it, but bear in mind he will make you late to go back to class or will make you forget about it completely.

😘 Isn’t opposed to kissing you in the garden area (the scenery where he ruthlessly bites Yui) since it’s kinda private, unless we have Subaru hanging somewhere around in the background, but Shu isn’t bothered too much by that since his youngest sibling tends to mind his own business.

😘 Music room—This is his haven at school, hence, it’s canon that he’s known as “king of the music room” at school.

😘 So he definitely likes kissing his lover in this room, especially in the dark with just enough moon lighting seeping in through the window.

😘 Isn’t opposed to having sex in their either. Afterall, he did have sex in there with Yui in one of the game routes.

😘 Apart from rough, Shu has his soft moments when it comes to kissing as well.

😘 For example, he likes to kiss you underneath the covers.

😘 Also has a thing for cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss, and may give you a smile if to show you he’s happy, but this is quite rare since he conceals his emotions most of the time.

😘 This may not be explicitly lewd, but he does like kissing the back of your hand for reassurance, or he’ll just grab it and kiss it if you two are having a conversation or there’s a moment of silence in between.

😘 Also likes coming up behind you and kissing the back of your neck and trailing down to the crook of your neck to leave kisses there as well.

😘 Is into pulling you on top of him when lying down and placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He does this either because he's in a sentimental mood, or he's reassuring you about something in your relationship.

😘 Likes to leave a soft kiss in your hair or forehead when you're asleep.

😘 Is canonically into "thank you" kisses. So, if he does a favor for you, let’s just say you have to “pay up.” ;))

😘 Is into pulling something out of your hair, like a leaf or something if it’s there, in order to set a mood if he's in the mood to kiss you and this is canon. (He did this with Yui in one of the game routes.)

😘 May give you a kiss on your forehead or in your hair in the limo just to tick his brothers off and to make them jealous, especially Reiji.

😘 Will sometimes pester you just to give him a kiss if he wants one.

😘 Like, he'll mess with your hair, poke your side, and so on.

😘 "Shu, quit it!"

😘 "Give me a kiss and I'll stop."

😘 "Fine, but only one."

😘 "No promises." He’d smirk.

😘 And with that, you bet it was more than just one kiss. ;))

😘 Dis boi.

Examples: (photos found on Pinterest; credit goes to original owners)

[suguwuus]

Could you write a connor x daughter of Athena. Where she has been at camp for a year, but they have known each other for about two weeks and he flirts a little too much in training and she thinks he is being mean. but in the end they make up.

★ nice

oh em gee my first req i feel like spongebob on his first day with his shiny lil spatula and squeaky shoes

p.s. so sorry this took so long i was so very sick when you sent it in and then exam week left me bruised and broken and so sleepy 😭

wc: 2.4k words

Who the Hades is this guy? Or more like, who the hell does this guy think he is?

You stared at the hunched-over figure wiping your bronze weapon down with a cloth, whistling as he went. It was too casual for someone like him to be doing something like that, especially with your weapon.

You recognized him as one of those Stoll brothers. They had been at camp for almost as long as you had, yet it seems that he's been popping up and about into your business these past few days. And he had been doing it a lot. Offering to carry your things, greeting you good morning and good night, even going so far as to try and make your bed for you. It was strange. Suspiciously strange. And you didn't trust him. From what you've heard and seen around camp, he was a prankster, an awfully resourceful two-faced troublemaker who could ruin your day with two paperclips and a cup of orange juice.

You thought he was no match for you, though. After all, you were equally crafty and clever as well, if not more than him. You thanked your mother, Athena, for both those skills and the grace to notice the signs this early on.

Gods, what was the purpose of all of this? You couldn't figure him out. You had some ideas, some guesses, but you couldn't pinpoint anything exactly. You needed direct contact with him; you needed to observe him up close so you could finally see his true intentions. Did he get bored and were you his new target? Was he doing this for a bet? Did you do something recently to catch his attention?

So, it was strange. Strange that you two have been skirting around each other for the past few years, not talking unless forced to and if you did, you only exchanged small talk. Why was he now all up in your business? Was he plotting something? You remembered when he put a tarantula in your half-sister Annabeth's bunk. You thought that was the last time you'd see those two boys.

"You look like you're plotting to kill him."

You jumped. Said Annabeth stood behind you, holding a plastic bag full of something you could only guess was your cabin's deposit of trash. Every other morning someone would do this to keep the cabin clean—and every morning Connor would greet you. Today, he added an offer to wipe your weapon down. You reluctantly agreed, vulnerable at 7 in the morning.

You knew you shouldn't be driven by rumors and gossip, shouldn't judge a book by its cover. But your overly paranoid self just refused to try and get to know the boy.

You pursed your lips and turned to Annabeth, sucking in a breath. "What's he like?" You asked.

"A little shit," Annabeth replied, and your heart sank. "But," she continued. "He's a reliable little shit. He's not evil or anything like that. He just has a talent for getting on people's nerves, him and Travis. It's a Hermes kid thing. Why?"

You glanced nervously to the side. "He's been doing the absolute most for me recently. Asking if I need help with anything, greeting me every time we see each other. We're not close. We're not even close to being close."

Annabeth took a few moments looking over at him as well, a small smile on her face. "Hmm. Well, I can't say anything for sure. But there's a very low chance he's doing this out of malice."

You cringed. "So..."

"Just wait and see where this goes," She advised, swinging the plastic bag. "If he hurts you, beat him up." Then she went away.

You scratched your head, starting to walk away from your cabin. That was...sort of helpful? No worries. You could handle this. It wasn't everyday you dealt with someone with the first name Connor and last name Stoll, but it wasn't everyday that you climbed the lava tower, either, no? And you survived that. So how hard could a boy be?

Quite hard, as it turned out to be.

You watched him stand up, stuffing the dirty cloth in his pocket. He then looked around the camp, walking in circles as if searching for someone. You knew he was looking for you, so when he turned in your direction you reluctantly waved a hand, but not enough to be obvious or easily noticed in the bustle of the camp.

When he spotted you, he jogged up to you like an excited dog, haphazardly swinging your weapon. He held it out with calloused hands. "Here!"

"Thanks. Erm, Connor." You added his name for good measure and took your weapon back. You inspected it quickly. No tampering, as far as you could see. It was clean, too. You looked back up at him and nodded. He had done a decent job. An honest, decent job?

"Did you just wake up?" He blurted out, sporting a smile that made you feel...what, self conscious? His words didn't help.

"No, I've been doing errands while waiting for you." You kept your answer plain and simple. "Why?" Without realizing it, you smoothed out your shirt.

He saw where your hands were going and chuckled, his eyes crinkling as if you just cracked a joke that amused him twice as much as the average pun did. "Don't worry, sunshine, you're not the ugliest thing I've seen in my life."

And the he walked away whistling, probably going off to tie someone's shoelaces together to trip them up. What the fuck? You thought, still processing what had just happened. What was that all about? Don't worry, sunshine?

You bet Apollo was laughing at you from Mount Olympus with the way the sunlight was shining right onto your face as Connor walked away, blinding you as you stood there in confusion.

You eyes searched the assortment of campers for Annabeth, some tiny bit of support you could anchor yourself to. She wasn't there. No striking grey eyes of hers among the orange shirts. You grit your teeth, accepting your defeat.

Well, not exactly your defeat. Not yet, at least. Hopefully not.

You gave Connor your best glare as he walked up to you in the middle of the arena. He swung his sword in his hand back and forth as if this was a game to him. Luckily for you, you also saw it as a game. A fun game to try and get to learn a thing or two about him. You wanted to observe him, close up? Here was your chance.

Sword practice. Sparring. Percy as the instructor overseeing the match. Perfect.

"Shake hands, guys," He said, standing between you and Connor. He then nodded at the boy. "No cheating, alright? No extra tricks."

"Yeah, yeah," He said, tapping his foot. You saw how he seemed almost giddy, but when he met your eyes, his smile melted and he cleared his throat.

You held a hand out. He shook it, not taking his eyes off you. He had a serious expression on, devoid of all humor or teases. "Nice shirt," he mumbled. And then he was off, stepping backwards until he was a reasonable distance away from you.

Shaking the confusion out of your head, you got into position, holding your weapon as you adjusted your stance.

Percy gave the signal and you two were off, celestial bronze clashing against one another. Your ears rung and you tried to not let the sun blind you.

Frustratingly enough, you couldn't observe much except for his physical traits (a light spray of freckles across his nose bridge, a nasty looking scar on his knee and a bruise on the other one, a hand with only one fingernail painted cherry red; unsurprisingly enough for a son of Hermes, he seemed to be ambidextrous) and that he was awfully talkative.

"I might have trouble focusing, but I'm multitasking right now, see? Your face is distracting, but I can handle it." "You're nice to look at when you're cornered like this, you know? Cute and mad, I should piss you off more!" "I really like your lack of enthusiasm all the time!"

Parry. Strike. Slash. Clang! The tip of his sword grazed your jaw and you swiped at his shins. Contrary to his blabber, you stayed silent except for grunts and the like, determined to finish him off.

Someone in the audience of campers yelled for Connor to focus. Instead he laughed. Soon you ended up with your weapons pressed against each other, screeching as the material of each grinded against one another. You were face to face with him now.

"You seem a little rusty, maybe you should consider practicing with me—"

That was your last straw. You pushed him back, so hard that you ended a few feet away from him, and charged, but at the last second swung to disarm him from his waiting sword instead of striking. With your momentum, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pushing his head upward, and stepped behind him, holding your weapon to his throat.

Victory.

"You know, I'd say something, but I don't think it's very audience friendly, I think it should be reserved for someplace without overbearing coordinators or nine year olds," He giggled.

You released him after Percy gave you the signal. Of course, you had to be somewhat polite. So you maneuvered his body so he was facing you, standing properly now. You took his clammy hand and shook it, looking him straight in the eye.

"Good duel," You said, nodding, chest still rising and falling from the intense practice match.

"Yeah, yeah, good duel," Connor replied, stumbling over his words. "Percy didn't...didn't have any comments for us, y-yeah, that's...that's good, right?"

You nodded again, and he let go of your hand, swallowing and glancing at the floor. He wet his lips, as if there was something he was itching to say, something stuck in his throat.

"You...you have nice eyes." He walked away with something you might have called a scurry.

Tilting your head in utter confusion, you heard a voice and felt a hand tap your shoulder. You turned around to see a little girl of about 12 years old. Strands of her dark hair stuck to her chubby cheeks from sweat. "Return the compliment. That's pamahiin, you know." She shot a cautious glance at Connor's turned back.

"It's what?"

"Superstition where someone curses you in the form of a compliment. He's been saying all kinds of things since the start of your match!"

"That doesn't sound like a Greek superstition to me. Where'd you hear that?" The girl left before you could finish. You shook your head. Silly kids.

You decided you had some business to attend to, so you jogged after Connor, following him down the path to the archery range.

"Hey," you called. "Connor!"

He slowly turned around, looking anxious. "...Yes?"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You're being strange. You kept talking during sword practice—you never do it that much, and you keep offering to do things for me. Are you following me around? Why did you compliment my shirt out of the blue right before we started?"

His brain seemed to load. And then he smiled. "You watch me during sword practice?"

"Sometimes, when there's nothing else to watch. The point is, you're acting off!"

He cleared his throat. "Well, erm, you know, I've just been seeing you around and I wanted to get to know you more. Wait, I complimented your shirt? We're all wearing the same ones."

You stepped closer. "No, are you up to something? Trying to get under my skin? Everything you say is somewhat backhanded and it feels like you're planning to get me in trouble, or both of us in trouble. If you don't like me, just say it straight to my face." You clenched your fists as you finished.

His expression morphed and looked horrified. "Oh, my Gods. No, I'm sorry."

You stared hard, waiting for him to explain himself.

"Shit, Y/N. That, uh...that wasn't...oh man, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I mean, I am mouthy all the time, but I didn't want you to think of it like that! I do, I'm complimenting you, I guess we just don't match up in terms of what's a 'nice' gesture or not.

"I'll say it straight, then. I'm being nice to you, trying to say nice things. Because I think you're nice."

You raised a brow. "...Nice?"

"Yes, nice. And I really liked practicing with you. And greeting you in the morning and at night. And you. I like being nice to you even if you don't understand my little pickup lines sometimes."

"So you weren't trying to be mean?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Ah...okay. I see. That's...fair. I guess I was just paranoid." You slowly nodded, understanding his defense. You could see him nervously putting his thumbs through his belt loops.

"Mhm." He looked to the side. "Oh, and by the way, maybe the thing I said this morning was confusing, you're not ugly at all, I think you—everything about you, is very, pleasing to the eye."

You chuckled. "—Is nice."

He let out a relieved laugh at how you had caught on. "Yes, exactly that. Oh," He perked up, looking behind your shoulder. When you followed his gaze you saw some campers walking towards him, and they did not look very happy. He put his sword back into his scabbard and tied his shoelaces, which had come undone.

So he was a prankster. Obviously. But he wasn't as bad as you thought. Not mean, just a little mischievous at times. You definitely were just paranoid. It's not everyday you got that many compliments. Puzzling ones that needed comprehension, yet still compliments. And he was easy to talk to. Not mean at all. Come to think of it, you hadn't fallen victim to his or Travis's pranks lately, not in a long while—

"That's my cue," he reached over and awkwardly patted your shoulder, averting your gaze. Despite that, he was smiling ear-to-ear. "See you sometime, okay? Bye!"

"Bye...!" And he dashed away, leaving you beaming in amusement. Wait, pickup lines? Those were pickup lines to him?

Nice? Nice as in flirting?