#they coulda been so happy together

[to-the-starlit-west]

[weakly flicks hand] nya!

i hate this stupid show it ruined my life and killed my grandmother and put my cat in the grave.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Wanted to offer you a Sparrow song for your playlist :D I’m Doing Push-Ups by bears in trees!! I hope you have a good weekend tehe <3 Can’t wait to hear about ur Hero Oak thoughts (if you feel like sharing them)

I started the song and I was like ":) oh what a pleasant little tune" and then it got to the lyrics and I was like "OH- OHHH" hahaha. ^_^ <3 <3 This is a super solid pick thank you! :0 I've been meaning to annotate that old Sparrow playlist post- but also I think I might make a new Sparrow playlist altogether cause I have so many songs for him that I didn't put in that first one hahaha.

As for Hero, admittedly I wouldn't have anything too coherent or organized to bring up at the moment! Her relationship with Norm has been on my mind (as you know), but I don't think I have any groundbreaking theory on the matter (yet heheheh).

Not that Hero hasn't otherwise been on my mind but- 😆that's mostly been in the form of things reasonably removed from canon. I guess I haven't really brought this up since my initial Swift-Foster-Oak-Garcia hc post (oh how far we've come!), but Hero and Taylor get up to a lot of fucking shenanigans in my head. The part that I mostly omitted (save for a tag or two) is that a lot of their shenanigans involve Lark one way or another! Mostly a lot of annoying the shit out of him cause they find it funny, and he's so reactive, which makes it funnier- but Lark is honestly kind of a big softie deep down as far as I'm concerned, so a lot of his grumpiness is just for show, Taylor grows on him over time, and it's the first time in his life that he actually starts to connect with Hero in a way that his heart wouldn't allow before this point.

Then there's the topic of her name hahaha- I love all the theories people have on the matter, but I remember particularly liking some of your takes actually!

👉👈 My own little headcanon for that topic is that Sparrow was in a pretty dark place prior to having Hero, and her coming into the world is ultimately what brought him out of that, so... That kinda made her *his* hero :) (but Lark doesn't know this and definitely thinks to this day that it was a passive aggressive jab at him over the whole "unsung hero" thing).

:0 I also think (still in purely headcanon territory lol) that when Sparrow named Hero he still had hope that the world could one day return to "normal" (i.e. how it was pre-Doodler), and hence was less afraid of his kid not being able to live a normal life. Like the others (perhaps especially Grant?), I think code purple and the betrayal of Nicky was kind of a slap in the face for Sparrow, and ultimately when a lot of those fears surfaced.

While I'm blabbering about very non-canon affairs, I also think her first words were a mispronounced "Hatsune Miku" and that this was entirely Nicky's fault LOL.

',:) But enough about me, I *know* you have a lot of Hero thoughts, and I would LOVE to hear them! If you needed an excuse to talk about them, this is it!!!

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[cherrysnax]

i do wonder why I’m having all these weirdly vivid and grounded dreams all of a sudden

[jarofstyles]

Leather & Lace

Hello my angels and welcome to Leather and Lace!!! We’ve got a very cute 3 parter (I’ve finished writing it) coming in for you guys. We love a good grumpy x sunshine and couldn’t help ourselves writing another one. Please leave us feedback! We love to hear from you

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Wc- 8.2k

Warnings- oral sex, praise kink, soft Dom h, opposites attract, cum play/swapping

---------

“How can you be this happy in the morning?” Harry grunted, hoodie pulled over his head as he sat down next to a bubbly Y/N. Her couch was comfortable but it didn’t make up for the fact that he was at her flat at 8 in the morning. 

“It’s not that early, lazy bones.” She hummed, tucking her legs under her as she sat down on the other side. “Thank you for coming to help today, by the way. I know you don’t like getting up early.”

He really didn’t, was the thing. He hated it. Harry only had so many days off and after working a long shift bartending last night, the very last thing he wanted to do was help someone unpack in their new flat. He’d rather claw at concrete than be awake right now, rather eat a raw egg, rather go through tattoo removal. If it was anyone but Y/N he would have laughed in their face at the mere ask. 

But it was her. It was twinkly eyed, pouty lipped, warm hearted Y/N who had asked him a week in advance and promised him a bagel with cream cheese and an iced coffee for brekkie, whatever he wanted for lunch, and ‘whatever he wanted in general!’. Little did she know he was going to say yes anyway, considering he knew he couldn’t say no to her sweet little ask with her smaller hand on his tattooed arm and wide eyes peering up at him. He wasn’t someone who liked to do things for many people without there being some sort of monetary gain, but this was different. 

Y/N had somehow latched herself onto one of the grumpiest bastards in the area while she herself was one of the sweetest girls he’d ever seen. Rarely spoke a mean word of anyone (except when they hurt someone close to her), went out of her way to help anyone who needed it and always wanted to be a shoulder to cry on. He’d seen her take money from her own wallet to cover someone’s bill when they were short, even seen her rush to help an elderly man across the street. It got her into trouble sometimes which was why he was glad that he’d been the hip she’d chosen to attach to. 

Their first interaction had been him sitting in the courtyard of their uni, listening to music under the tree. He’d had his sketchbook in hand, doodling in between classes when he looked up to see a girl with a pretty yellow bow in her hair offering him a cupcake because he looked ‘sad.’. He had been sad, actually, but that was pretty much his normal resting face. He’d tried to blow her off but she’d taken a seat next to him, introducing herself and telling him about her own day to ‘distract him’. He hated to admit that it worked. 

From then on, she popped up everywhere. At first he’d been a bit worried that she was following him but it truly was a coincidence. Y/N had found her way under his skin, wriggled her way into that cold heart of his and made it warm up just a little each time she came around. At some point she’d become a daily fixture in his life, her texts lighting up his phone with emojis and telling him to meet her at the cafe or the library- and for some reason, he followed.

“Mmm. Know y’wanted me here to see me get all sweaty. If y’wanted to see my tats and muscles so badly, you coulda just said so, Sweets.” He smirked, watching her eyes widen. So easy to fluster. 

“No! Stop teasing me, s’not nice.” She grumbled, poking his knee with her socked foot. She’d chosen lavender striped ones today. “I don’t have a lot of strong friends, you know that. Niall’s comin’ by after work to help you put the bedframe together and move the books from the car. Besides, I’ll let you sleepover and everything after we’re all done. I know you loveeeee my bed.”

He did. But more than anything he liked laying in said bed with her. Harry had a hard time admitting he had begun to gain feelings for the girl but deep down he knew he did. He liked that she insisted on cuddles, curling her leg around his and nuzzling her face into his chest, or even better yet the crook of his neck. Loved when she’d sleepily ask him questions about his life and tell him facts about her own. She resembled a tiny kitten while sleepy, insistent on getting all of the pets and attention. 

Harry had decided he wasn’t the relationship type after his last girlfriend had cheated on him with his old best mate- but meeting Y/N had reminded him of the die hard romantic that laid underneath the surface. All the hard work he’d had piling up bricks on top of his red, bleeding heart had seemed to be consistently excavated by the pastel wearing girl who still enjoyed the fairy lights he used to see online in those aesthetic bedroom photos. It scared him a bit at first. Even now, he was nervous about the idea of getting closer to her than they were now because her heart was a tender and precious thing and he didn’t necessarily trust himself not to hurt her- but then again, he knew he’d do miles better than anyone else could. He’d spent the time learning about her as the months went by, listening to her drawl on about the pinterest boards she made, her dream finds she always looked for at the thrift stores, her least favorite reality TV contestants, which pastries she found to be too dry at the cafe and which had the best level of moisture, what blankets she liked, every little tidbit he had stored away in his brain to use at a later date. 

No one would be as protective of her as he would be, which was why lately he’d been entertaining the thought of perhaps moving past the point of no return and trying to see if maybe, possibly, perhaps.. They could be more. 

It had come with a lot of deliberating but he’d come to understand that if he failed, Y/N wouldn’t caste him to the side. She’d never in a million years abandon him like he feared, which only gave him more motivation to go for it though… He was still biding his time. He had to let her get settled here before he shook up her life a bit more. 

They were opposites, the sweet girl and him. Harry was quite literally the bad boy cliche of everyone’s after school special’s dreams. His hair was long and curled, brushing his jaw. He went for darker clothing, usually his ripped black skinny jeans and a band tee but sometimes more eccentric with some silk and leaving his tits out when they went on a night out. His nose had a simple black hoop, his nails painted and chipped though this week they were a bubblegum pink, a la Y/N’s expertise. His body was hard from the gym he liked to frequent and inked, only getting more every month. He wore the occasional eyeliner when he felt spicy. That was only the physical things. 

Sometimes he wondered why she felt drawn to him, as she said. He was dark and moody with a darker sense of humor. Somewhat of a pessimist, he expected the worst from people and tended to stay away from them the best he could. The opposite of a social butterfly, he only usually went out in the past for a drink or to get his cock wet, never for the pleasure of interacting with people. Even then it was rare considering he did quite well in the hookup area being a bartender himself. 

Harry often wondered how and why she felt the pull to be around him and why she felt so at ease in his presence but he figured it had to be that he’d knocked the lights out of a bloke in her philosophy class who’d been riding her ass. He’d made the wrong decision of cornering Y/N at a party Harry had been dragged to, touching her a bit too much and not listening when her smile became thin and she backed away from him after giving a rejection much too polite than the man deserved. There had been no hesitation in laying him out, tugging Y/N into his side and demanding she stay with him for the rest of the party after she insisted she didn’t need to go home. 

Funnily enough she’d been a hit with his own small group of friends, everyone also feeling the same sort of kindred protection over her. Not many people were genuinely warm and fuzzy in the way she was. 

Y/N was… She was the sun, she was a cinnamon roll fresh baked on a sunday morning, she was a kitten sprawled in a sunbeam. All the good things, he could find a way to relate them to her. That probably should have been the indicator he had feelings for her far sooner than he’d ever let himself admit, but she had taken the time to crack him open. 

It was hard to stop thinking about what made her both his opposite and so special. Harry dwelled on how soft her clothing always was, both in color and texture. She liked those pastel colors and fuzzy cardigans, hair bows and those signature mary janes with the tiny heels. Lip oil as opposed to lip gloss because it was ‘too sticky’ but still dragged all his attention to her lips and made him wonder if it really tasted like tangerine like it smelled. 

Her touch was gentle and tender, cautious at first but as soon as she got the go ahead, she showered you in attention. At least, she did to him. Brushing stray hairs out of faces and wiping crumbs off cheeks, she had little sense of personal space once granted permission. She’d been mindful of his distaste for touch at the beginning but once he’d leaned into it, the girl had no qualms about straightening his shirt or leaning into his form, hell- there had been a few times she’d helped herself to his lap when there was no other seating option. Usually that was when she was tipsy considering she would most likely be a little shy sober, but that was something he enjoyed. 

The light to his dark, he doubted anyone else could make him feel the way she could. Hence why he was up after only getting 4 hours of sleep, sipping the coffee she’d gotten him. There was little he wouldn’t do for a hint of her smile. 

—--

“Babe, you’ve got t’make a decision.” Harry said gently, placing the large mirror down and leaning it against the wall. 

“I know, I know but… It’s bad luck to have your mirror facing your bed.” She wrung her fingers together. “I’m sorry, H. I know I’ve been a bit of a pain in the rear today. I promise m’not trying to, but It’s my first place and I just want it to be perfect.” Her head looked down, making his heart squeeze. 

God damn it. Leave it to her to make him feel like he’d kicked a puppy. Sighing, he tugged the bandana on his head back into place and approached her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “M’not upset with you. Promise. I just think you’re overthinking it a bit.” Her superstitions did tend to make her feel a little squirrely sometimes and he knew it.  “We’re gonna make it look perfect. Incredible, even. Reckon the magazines will be calling you up to feature you, but we can’t just have a freestanding mirror slab.” He’d picked it up for her off of craigslist just a bit ago. Even if it wasn’t a dodgy listing, he wouldn’t let her go on her own. That’s how people got kidnapped. 

“Ugh, I know.” She groaned, flopping into his chest. Never mind it being sweaty, she rubbed her nose between his tits and let out a tired groan, her hair smacking his chin. It’d been tossed up in a very messy bun that was a bit lopsided but made her look doubly as cute, though he didn’t tell her that. “Why don’t we mount it to the back of your door then? Not facing your bed, or another mirror.” 

He could almost hear her brain going as she mulled it over before he felt the nod against his chest. “That will be good, I think. I love that idea.” Y/N had been going back and forth over design choices with him all day as if he had a clue about interior decor, but he had appreciated her caring about his opinion nonetheless. “That can be the last thing we do. Niall’s fucked off somewhere futzing with the books so we can eat after that’s done.” 

The thud of his heart against her ear was steady as he gently ran a hand over her shoulderblade. “What’s on the menu?” 

“Think we’re ordering pizza because I know m’too tired to cook which means you lot have to be too.” She chuckled, finally prying herself out of his chest and blinking up at him.”Then we can go to bed.”  He was thankful her ear was away from his heart so she couldn’t hear the way it stuttered. You’d think after sleeping in her bed a multitude of times that he’d get used to the sound of that sentence but it still did him in every time. 

“Okay. I can run and pick it up after I mount this to the door if you call it in.” He knew she wouldn’t want to go. It was visible on her face how tired she was and it melted him internally. He knew that she’d be a little snuggly menace tonight and fuck if he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Gonna run into the pharmacy t’grab some body wash for here, if thats okay?”

“Course it is.” She beamed at the suggestion, making him happy that he’d even brought it up. Y/N used to suggest he sleep heer a lot before and he’d refuse, thinking she was just trying to be polite- but she really did enjoy him staying with her. “I liked the pomegranate one you used last time, just sayin’.” Patting his chest she moved from his grip, heading to grab her phone. “Normal for you?”

“Yeah, love. Same as usual.” He rubbed over the achy spot in his chest that she’d left by pulling away, looking forward to sleeping tonight so he could feel it fill back up.

—-----------

Harry had grabbed the pomegranate bath stuff. He’d grabbed the whole line, actually, the shampoo, conditioner, body wash and some sort of ‘skin buff.’ Whatever that was. 

Y/N had squeaked as he showed her, along with a pack of the makeup wipes she usually used and he’d steal. He’d figured it was about time to be the one to buy the replacements. “Ah! And you got the face mask I like.” Her eyes were wide and bright as she bounced on her toes, smacking a kiss to his stubbly cheek before looking back down at the holographic packaging. He’d hoped he had gotten the right one when he’d seen a sale on them when on his way to the check out counter. It was worth the little bit of money to feel her lips for a moment. “Thank you, H. You’re the best, as usual.” 

“The hell am I?” Niall scoffed, wiping his hands dry after washing them. 

“You’re great too, but he got me the face masks I like and they usually sell out. So he’s a bit higher up in points today.” She placated him, brushing past him to put them in the bathroom. “Harry, plate up the pizza, pretty please!”

As soon as she had disappeared, Niall shot him a look. “When are you two gonna make it official?” He whispered. “The heat eyes bouncin’ off the both of you is sickening at this point. She’s turned you soft.” 

Harry settled with a glare, placing two slices on the paper plate and sliding it over to him. “Eventually. Her whole life is shifting. Can’t do shit right now without rattling her.” It was the first time he admitted or even hinted at having feelings for her besides point blank telling anyone who came around that she wasn’t available. Y/N didn’t know he did that though. 

“Thank fuck you don’t still have your head up your arse. I was worried you’d never admit you’re gone for her.” He faked wiping sweat off his head making the other man roll his eyes. “She’ll be happy, H. You don’t have to worry about her rejecting you. Just go on and do it. She talks about you like you hang the moon every night at this point even when you aren’t around.” 

A weakness he’d spotted, Harry stood a bit straighter before leaning in. “She does? What does she say?” Oh, he hated how desperate he sounded to hear the answer but the fluttering in his stomach made him insisting on finding out. 

“Oh, how thoughtful and kind and generous you are and how you’re the best person she knows, all of that. She stares at her phone and waits for texts from you when she comes out and you’re working, gets these huge smiles or giggles when you do. or tries to get everyone to move the party to your bar.” 

That last part, he’d hoped for. He liked the idea of her wanting to be physically close to him and suggesting everyone come and see him, but knowing she did the same thing he did when waiting for messages from him soothed a piece of him. He wasn’t alone in it. It was hard sometimes for him to decipher her behavior considering she was genuinely so friendly with everyone and he didn’t want to flatter himself and think it he was special… but apparently he was. 

He didn’t have a chance to answer when Y/N glided from the bathroom, finding her spot on the kitchen barstools. “What did I miss?” 

“Nothin’, Babe. Just chatting shit.” He murmured, sliding her a plate with her pizza of choice on it. “Figured we’d go to the grocery tomorrow, yeah? It’s a bit sparse in here with the food.” He had the next day off and intended on spending it with her. They’d made lots of progress today and had 80% of the place unpacked, but he knew she liked those restocking videos online. “Think they’ve got those organizers back in stock.” 

“Oh!” She gasped.”Yes, you genius. I’ll need your help though, strong man. I like the one trip wonder.” It was a tease considering she knew Harry hated making multiple trips up with bags. 

“Lucky for you, you’ve got a lift now and I’ve got that collapsible wagon.” Reaching out he gently flicked her nose for being a brat. “So we won’t have t’worry about that.” 

—-----

Y/N was either very oblivious or a tease. Harry could never fully figure out which one. 

He sat on her bed, messing with her telly when she emerged from the shower in her little cotton shorts and one of his shirts. It was one he’d just been looking for last week, actually, an old Iron Maiden one with a few holes in the collar area. Unmistakably his. The faded gray complimented her skin, looking extra cozy on her as her powder blue plush bunny slippers flopped against the ground and she made her way to her skincare desk. 

“You little thief.” He grumbled from the bed, leaning against her headboard. “I was searching everywhere for that last week.” Though he had narrowed eyes she would know he was only teasing. 

“You left it with me, remember? I ended up packing it so I wouldn’t forget it but… It’s super comfy.” She smiled guiltily at him, spinning in her chair. “Is it okay if I wear it? It still smells like your cologne and it helps me sleep sometimes…”

Ah, a shot to the heart. 

Y/N didn’t know what it did to him to know he was an aid in good sleep. That it both made his heart stutter and his cock throb at the sight of her wrapped up in his clothing like she had all the rights to it. Like he was her boyfriend and she liked to wear it to remember him. Her scent had a similar effect on him, leaving it in his sheets when she stayed over,  “Totally okay, lovely.” He smiled gently. “M’just teasing you. Though it does wonders for my ego to know you like my cologne that much.” 

He knew he was making her a little flustered considering she didn’t look right at him, but he thrived off of that. Knowing he made an impact on her like that made him feel just a bit more confident that she felt similarly to him. There was no answer from her, but he wasn’t done with her quite yet. Standing up with a groan, he made his way over to her little makeup and skincare set up, placing his hands on the back of her chair. “What are you putting on your face?” He asked curiously, looking over her head to the products she had neatly organized.

“Well, first I wipe with one of these toning pads.” She opened the little tub, using a tiny pair of clear tongs to grab one. “You don’t want to be sticking your fingers in there and potentially making them all dirty so it came with this little thing. You give it a few passes over your t zone.” She showed him as she did it, Harry watching diligently in the mirror. 

“Mmm. Then what? You’re always doin’ all of this fancy stuff to your face. Figure that's why your skin is so pretty.” He let his fingers fiddle with a few strands of hair. 

“Thank you.” She said sheepishly, picking up a smaller tube. “Um, I use this undereye cream to help with puffiness and brightening. Its soothing. I apply it with the smallest finger though, because while I’m not afraid of wrinkles it’s the weakest fingers and the skin under your eyes is more delicate.” 

Huh. “Didn’t know what.” He was actually learning something from this. 

“Mhm. Why do you think I tell you to go gentle when you use the makeup remover?” A smile tilted up one side of her lips a bit further, eyes focused on the mirror in front of her. She pretended not to notice the slight shiver he gave her when he leaned down, letting his face get more level with hers- but he did. He noticed anything he could. “A-And then I use some vitamin C stuff for brightening, a serum and a cream. I use the little fan to make it dry faster so it isn’t sticky.” She pointed to the mini pink fan he’d always noticed. He’d just assumed it was for when she got hot. “Do you… Would you like me to use some of it on you when I’m done?” 

She sounded hesitant to ask which he understood. Not a lot of the guys in their friend circle would want that, but he wasn’t that insecure about himself that he’d say no to someone pampering him. Especially not when it meant Y/N getting close to him. “Sure, sweets. I’d love that. Reckon my skin needs it.” 

“What do you usually do with it?” She asked curiously, meeting his eye in the mirror. 

“Makeup remover, wash my face, that cream you left at my place if I remember.” 

“It’s not fair you have the skin you do.” She huffed, shaking her head. “Cruel, actually.” It kind of was. He got long lashes too, which she always complained about. “Go and wash your face first, heathen.”

Harry let out a small laugh before going off to do that. Returning with a fresh face, he stood in his prior position, watching her finish up the routine before holding the fan closer to her face to finish it off. It was an interesting process he hadn’t paid much mind to before, but then again, she didn’t bring every single thing to his place either. 

After putting her hair up in a claw clip, she stood up from the plushy chair and motioned for him to sit down. He did as asked, feeling her residual warmth as she lined up the products for them. “Okay, so we start with the toner pad.” She gently pushed him to lean back in the chair, her face coming closer to his as she delicately swiped it over his cheeks and nose. He was getting an up close look at her, noticing the scar near her eyebrow and a few spots on her face. It made him warm up a bit, being able to see her so close when she was awake. Usually this level of observation was reserved for when she was asleep. “Oi, keep your head up.” 

“Sorry.” He laughed, avoiding the impulse to move the chair back and forth. He liked to swing on it at times. 

“Wait- how about this.” Without giving it much thought, she gripped the chair and swung it over to turn his body to the side, helping herself to straddle his lap. “This seems a little easier, no?” Fingers gently tipped his chin up, eyes focused on her motions. 

Harry’s breath had disappeared. No longer available, he felt her sitting on top of his thighs, innocent as ever as she went through the motions. Tender with her movements and pressure, she was treating him like porcelain while giving him a little makeover. He should be focused on how nice the products felt on his skin, but his mind was elsewhere. 

She smelled amazing, as usual, but having it this close up was a little hard for him. Yes, she sat on his lap before- but not in his shirt, with her thighs on display and tiny little shorts. She didn’t straddle him before either, didn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t. All his energy was focused on trying to ensure she didn’t feel the stiffy that was quickly growing in his pants. 

“I can’t believe how good you’re being for me, H.” She whispered. “No whining or anything.” Her smile was soft as she wiped the serum over his face. “You’re so pretty.”

Fuck. He swallowed thickly, trying desperately to not let his cock construe those words into the filthy praise kink he had, but it appeared to be a bit too late for that. She had no idea what she was doing to him and he didn’t want to be a perv, but god damn. If the girl continued, there would be no denying that he’d cream his damn pants. Being pet on, feeling her brush his hair off his forehead while she stroked his face and adjusted his position to where she wanted… He was only so strong. “Thanks.” He murmured, trying to keep his composure. 

“Of course.” She beamed, seeming pleased. “I’m surprised you’re letting me do this, but you’re full of surprises.” It seemed like she didn’t know the battle he was facing internally, which was his goal, but that was soon to be ruined. “Hold on a second.” Shifting slightly on his lap, she stood up momentarily before sliding further up. “Sorry, I was falling down a bit-” 

Harry hadn’t meant to, he really fucking didn’t. But she sat right on top of him, squirming a bit. Giving his dick a bit of friction, making his hands grip her hips and sit her down hard to stop the movement. He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t face her as he heard the hitch in her breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Sorry, I didn’t- I promise m’not being a creep or anything.” He winced. “Just been a while and uh-” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Her voice rang out, fingers brushing through his hair. “H, look at me. I’m not mad.” Of course, her words were sweet and syrupy, going right to his dick yet again. Y/N had no fucking idea how much she effected him, how many times he’d thought about her in this positon and how guilty he felt that he’d turned a sweet moment into something like this. “C’mon. You don’t need to be embarrassed.” 

He took a moment before opening his eyes, looking at her face. Studying it, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. Her hand cupped the side of his face, a slight pout on her pretty lips. Y/N didn’t seem upset about it, seeing as she sat still and could most definitely feel his cock under her. He could feel her cunt over him, hot through the fabric and he was doing everything in his power to be fucking normal. 

“There you are.” The tables had finally turned. Harry was the shy one in this moment and Y/N was the one seemingly not freaked out. “It’s a natural body function, H. I know you’re not some kind of perv. I sat on your lap, remember?” She soothed his nerves. “Besides, I’m flattered. Was beginning to think you thought I was some kind of troll or something.” The smile kicked up on her face, but his frown deepened.

“The fuck? Why would you think that?” Brows furrowed, he didn’t like that she thought he didn’t find her attractive. He called her pretty quite a bit. 

“Well, I’m not your type. You go for all those tattooed girls with the bad ass attitudes, which is cool cause I think they’re hot too but… I’m all soft and squishy, y’know? I like the soft things, kinda the opposite of you so I just thought I wasn’t someone you’d be attracted to. M’nothing like what you go for.” She didn’t seem offended by this, rather stating it matter of fact- but Harry couldn’t believe how wrong she was. He had to wonder how long she thought this. 

While he was secretly pining after her, she was thinking he was going off to get blowies by the girls that flirted with him which, sometimes he did. At the beginning of their friendship, he tried to stave off those feelings for her by getting someone else underneath him, fucking away the frustration but he learned fairly quickly that none of it did much when his mind was on someone else. It’d been months at this point. Sure, he liked a bit of flirting to boost his ego, but that was only when Y/N was preoccupied. 

“Well, you’re wrong.” He said sternly. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Dunno where the troll idea came in when m’always staring at you.” He scoffed. “No more of that bullshit. Wouldn’t be hard if I didn’t think you were stunning. Trust me.” In fact, she was the only thing that got him hard these days. Thinking of her mouth, her thighs, her tits, her ass, anything. Even her hands, for fucks sake. “Don’t ever doubt how beautiful you are t’me. Pisses me off.”

“Sorry.” She bleated, pouting back at him. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just.. You call me pretty but I never would have thought you meant it like that. I like that you let me cuddle you and stuff so obviously I know you aren’t repulsed by me but, I dunno.” She swallowed, looking down at his bare chest. “I’m sorry for getting you… if you’re uncomfortable.” 

God, he was mucking this up wasn’t he? He shook his head, letting his thumbs rub over her hips as he softened his face. “No, sweets. Don’t apologize. S’not a big deal, I’m not mad at you. Just don’t like the idea of you thinking poorly of yourself. You’re fucking stunning.” So stunning that his cock was still hard under her. “I’ll go take care of it when we’re done, but no more squirming. Okay?” Squeezing her, he tried to rectify the situation. “No more fussing.” 

“But…” Y/N’s lips twisted slightly, sliding her hands down to his shoulders. “That’s not fair.” 

Harry blinked a few times, looking her over hesitantly. “What d’you mean? I’m okay, pet.” 

“Well, It’s my fault that you’re like this.” She protested. “I can fix it, if you want. Haven’t given too many blowies before, but I can take instruction pretty well.”

Harry truly thought he was dreaming for a moment, his face hot as she gave him an innocent look. Like she meant it, though it slightly embarrassed her for not having a lot of experience. But feeling her shift on him clued him back into reality. This was real. “You- You don’t have to do anything for me, Y/N.” He was holding on by a string. “You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your responsibility to get me off just because my cock’s got a mind of his own.”

Y/N huffed again, shaking her head. “I want to. Can I?” Her face shifted slightly. “You’re not making me do anything. It would make me feel better If i could take care of you.” Her eyes met his. “I mean it. Promise.” 

And god, if Harry was a stronger man he’d lift her off his lap and insist on taking care of it himself. He’d explain that it could make lines blurry and he liked her a bit more than a friend and they’d have that talk. But he wasn’t a stronger man, and she rolled her hips on him again with a hum, making his head fall back when she repeated the action. “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath. “As long as.. As long you’re sure. I don’t want you to regret it or anything.” 

“I won’t.” She peeped. “I like making you feel good, Harry.” Her face seemed brighter as she watched him nod.

“Go on then, sweetheart.” He sighed. “I’ll show you what I like.” 

Never in a million years had he expected her to be visibly excited, slipping off his lap and on to her knees in front of him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Eyes looked up at him with curiosity, hands running over his thighs as she waited for direction. He’d dreamt of this so many times, stroked off in the bathroom to this very mental image to get his load out quicker. His cock pulsed inside his sweats. This was really happening. “M’not wearing briefs under these.” He warned, pushing the waistband down as he slowly tugged himself out of the pants. His hand was slightly shaky ass he gave himself a squeeze at the base, a soft hiss leaving his teeth when her hand covered his own. 

“I’ve only done it a few times but…” Her eyes widened. “Yours is the prettiest I’ve seen.”

And fuck if that didn’t get him going. Harry took pride in his dick, as a lot of men did, but to get that compliment was better than anything else. His hair was normally trimmed shorter, but it had been a while. It was groomed a bit at the base, his happy trail leading up his stomach. “Thank you.” He mumbled, removing his hand and letting hers take over. Y/N was eager and that much was obvious, feeling her give him a few strokes as she shuffled closer in between his spread thighs. “I- I probably won’t last long. I wasn’t lying, it’s been a while.” And he’d imagined her in this position so many times that he was programmed to get off to it quickly. 

“That’s okay. You’re quite big so it’ll be better for my jaw.” She giggled. Fucking giggled while her thumb rubbed over the slit, making him shudder. He’d always imagined she’d be much more shy in this situation, but again he was proven wrong. “What do you like?” 

Honestly? He could cum just like this. Her stroking him slow, looking up at him with that pretty little face. Splatter her pretty face with pearly strings leaking from the slit of his cock, let it drip down her cheeks and chin. But she wouldn’t like that answer. “I’m okay with anything you give me, but I… I like to hear you.” He swallowed, a shaky exhale leaving his nose. “And uh, a bit wet. If that’s something you’d like.” 

Y/N looked like she was taking note, nodding at his words. “I want to know what you like, m’okay with anything.” She smiled. “I knew you had to be big cause.. Y’know you’ve got the energy. And I’ve felt it a few times when we cuddle, before you wake up. It’s just different to see it.” Y/N leaned her head on his thigh, continuing to jerk him off. “I’ll probably choke a little bit, cause you’re the biggest I’ve taken. It’s okay though, I’ll be fine. I’ll pinch your tummy or somthin’ if I need a second to breathe.” 

Who the fuck was she? Y/N had never, ever shown or hinted at being filthy in her life, but here she was. Talking about choking on his cock. He throbbed in her hand, making her eyebrows raise. “You liked that. Noted.” Leaning forward, she kept eye contact with him as she dragged her pink tongue from the base up to the tip, letting it sit there for a moment before she pulled away, giving him a few more strokes. “You can show me what you like too. Don’t be shy about it, H. I want you to feel good.” 

Harry nearly lost it as he watched those gorgeous lips purse, spitting right over the tip. It slipped down his length before her hand caught it, stroking and spreading it over his cock. Filthy, filthy things filled his tongue immediately, but he tried to pace himself. “Fuck me…” He whispered, gently gathering her hair in his hand. “I didn’t know you had this in you, gorgeous.” It nearly bowled him over. “Can you.. Take it in your mouth. Suck the tip for me. I want to see that.” 

Normally, he had no problem being a cocky, arrogant man. He was dominant most of the time with his hook ups- but Y/N wasn’t just a hook up to him. She was special. He didn’t want to do a single thing to potentially fuck this up. He wanted her to like this, to see how much he liked it too. She had no problems following instructions, the man watching as her lips stretched around the tip and dipped down a bit as she suckled on it. A soft hum left her mouth and vibrated over him as he curled the hair around his fist, making him groan. “Yeah, jus’ like that, angel. Fuck.” He kept his eyes on her as she bobbed shallowly, taking moments to rub her tongue over his leaking slit. “You’re so good, so sweet t’me. Can’t believe you’re doin’ this.” 

Y/N pulled off the tip, lips wet as she peered up at him. “I’ve thought about it before.” She whispered, lapping over the side of his length. “Wanted to see your cock. I knew it’d be pretty.” 

What the fuck? Harry’s brian felt fried, completely caught off guard by this information. Sure, he had thought maybe once or twice she was teasing him but it wasn’t often. Y/N was just so sugary sweet and kind, a slight air of innocence, and… Now she was telling him she’d thought about sucking him off before. “You have?” 

“Mhm.” She stroked him a bit firmer, the slick sound of her hand around his wet cock getting louder. “I heard.. Heard rumors and felt left out. You like me the best but you never asked me to do anything.” Rubbing the tip over her pouted lips, Harry was shocked yet again. 

“Cause y’mean more to me than any of the other people.” He swallowed. “Too fuckin’ sweet. I like you the best, you’re right but.. You’re my sweet girl. Didn’t want t’use you for anything like that. Would break my heart if I hurt you and you’d not want to see me again.” 

“What if I wanted you to use me?” She asked, peering up at him with those eyes. They drove him absolutely mad. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me unless I asked, H. You’re so good to me… I just want to be good for you too.” Taking the tip back into her mouth, she pushed herself down further and he felt his stomach clench. It took him off guard, feeling the hot mouth take him down and bob herself against him, a soft hum vibrating over him. 

“Oh- Fuck.” He let out a broken groan, leaning further back into the chair. “You are, baby, you fucking are. Hot little mouth… shit.” She whimpered around his cock at his words, sucking a little harder as her hand stroked the rest of him. She liked that. “What is it, hm? Like when I call you baby? When I tell you how perfect you are?” His words got a bit darker. He was slipping into another headspace and Y/N seemed to be coaxing it on. 

She did a half ass nod, not pulling off his length as she continued. Harry wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that she’d be a greedy girl like this, but he was incredibly thankful that she was. “You are. Such a good girl, so gorgeous with your mouth stretched around my cock. Didn’t know you were gagging for it, baby. Should’ve told me.” He chuckled darkly. “Wouldn’t have wasted my loads in the shower before comin’ t’bed with you. Could’ve pushed into your needy mouth and let you swallow it down.” 

Y/N moaned around his prick, eyes watering slightly as she looked at him. He’d never seen a better sight. “You’re so beautiful, angel. So pretty. Didn’t know such a filthy thing could have you lookin’ even more beautiful.” His throat felt thick as his cock throbbed in her mouth. “Fuck, you don’t even know how many times I’ve thought about it.”

Y/N pulled off, panting slightly as webs of saliva connected her mouth to his cock. “How much?” Her voice was a little hoarse, but he could hear that she was desperate to know. “You- You could have. I don’t want you to waste it anymore.” There was the tiny bit of shyness coming back in. “If umm, if you think  I’m good enough at this. I’ll do it.” 

“Fuck me, baby.” His thumb wiped over her spit soaked lips, breaking the threads of spit as he caressed her cheek. “All the fucking time. S’the only thing that gets me off.” Confessions he hadn’t thought he’d be saying so soon, let alone before he’d ever kissed her, spilled from him. “You’re doing amazing. More than good enough, too fucking good for me.” He couldn’t believe she was offering. “You sure you want t’be the one to take care of it?”

“Yes, I want it. I don’t want anyone else to do it.” She pleaded. “I’ll be the best for you. Just- you can tell me and I’ll suck you or, or anything you want.” Harry tested it, gently pushing her head back towards his prick- which she immediately took back in her mouth. The perfect, wet heat bringing him back to that filthy place in his head. 

How could she think he could ever say no? She’d been his weakness since she brought him over that damn cupcake. 

“Oh, sweet girl. Anything?” He cooed. “Dangerous thing to promise me. Don’t want anyone else to do it either.” His breathing was getting harder, trying not to thrust his hips up into her mouth and make her take it all. Sure, she’d probably do it, but he still felt the need to be delicate with her. “Take a little more for me, baby. Just like- there, there you go.” He praised, mouth falling open as she did exactly what he wanted. “Gonna make me cum.” 

This felt a million times better than rubbing one out in her bathroom. His legs were near vibrating, the wet sound of her mouth taking him down and the clicks of her hand stroking his spit soaked cock filling her bedroom. This was the last thing he’d expected was her on her knees for him tonight and part of him wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a wet dream, but he was thanking whatever higher power that was up there that his sweet girl had a dirty side to her. One he wanted to be the only one privileged enough to see. 

“In my mouth.” She gasped, pulling up for a moment. “Want to taste you. Please?” 

How could he ever tell her no? 

Pushing her back down on his cock, he let his hips rise up and shallowly thrust into her mouth as she moaned around him, drooling down her chin and letting him use her the way he needed to get off. The best part was knowing she was enjoying it so much. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long already, but he attributed that to shock. She was dirty, his sweet girl, choking slightly on his cock as the tip hit her throat, but she made no move to want to stop. 

His last straw, though, was feeling her hand over his balls, whining around him as he let out his deepest groan yet. It was sloppy and messy and so fucking good that he felt lightheaded, tummy hot and legs weak as he felt himself approach his end. “Fuck, jus’ like that, your fucking mouth is perfect… fuck, fuck, fuck, baby- M’gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-” His voice failed as his head fell back, lifting his hips as his cum began to pour into her mouth. Ribbon after ribbon coating her throat, pulling back a bit to get it on her tongue while she worked him through it. 

He didn’t realize he had so much in him, but perhaps it was just Y/N that made him cum this much. This hard. His ears rung a bit, curses leaving his mouth as he watched her mouth open and hand stroke him to see the pearly mess on her tongue. At the last little bit,he used his grip on her hair to tug her up to his face. 

“C’mere, sweet girl. Share with me, don’t be greedy.” holding her face while the other had her hair, he pulled back into his lap and her mouth to his and groaned as she licked over his tongue, sharing the remnants of his load with him. It was something a bit nasty and deprived, he knew, but Y/N merely moaned back, her clean hand curling around the back of his neck. 

The kisses slowed from frantic and hot, to softer, slow and sweet. Pecking her lips over and over again, her whimpers melted into giggled as he untangled from her hair, sliding his hand under the shirt she had on to get some bare skin on his fingertips. “Sweetest thing, most beautiful girl.” He murmured between kisses. “Thank you. Best I’ve ever had.” 

“You’re jus’ saying that.” She whispered, though the smile was difficult to wipe off her face. Obviously she liked praise just as much as him. 

“Nope. Mean every word.” He confirmed, rubbing his nose over her cheek. “Thank you, baby. Felt so damn good, can’t feel my legs now.” Harry’d never felt like this after a blowie, both in his legs and the fondness he felt for the girl. If there had been any doubts about his feelings for her whatsoever, they were shattered. He was so far gone for her, it was pathetic. 

“Good.” She smiled, feeling the kiss to his cheek. “I need to finish your skincare, though. So tuck yourself back in, cause m’gonna do that and then brush my teeth again. Though.. I can tell you’ve got a good diet. Tasted nice.” 

Though Harry knew cum never really tasted good, he was chuffed that she hadn’t minded. Even more, that she hadn’t minded indulging in sharing with him. “M’not selfish, I need to help you too.” He reminded, though she merely shook her head. 

“I’ll take a raincheck. M’so tired now, and I want to enjoy it fully.” Pecking his cheek in return, she picked up the moisturizer. “Think you need a lip mask too. Thankfully, you’re in the right hands.” 

Harry was sometimes a selfish lover with hookups and he could admit that, but with Y/N he never wanted to be that way. He wanted to make her feel good, but he could wait. It only made him anticipate it more- there would be a next time. 

“Okay, sweets.” He chuckled. “Do whatever you’d like.”

[lovebugism]

Okay maybe Eddie bought a silly couple costumes for himself and r (something cute with “Why aren’t you wearing a costume?” and “I’m not wearing that.”) 🩷

ty for requesting lovie! happy fictober! ily! — eddie buys you a costume you don't feel pretty enough to wear and the gang crashes your cuddling session (hints of smut, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.5k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Your bare bodies stick together beneath a decade-old quilt. Eddie’s nice enough to let you use his lanky bicep as a makeshift pillow while you cuddle on the couch. His other hand hovers over your face, smoothing out the subtle furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb.

“What’s this face for, huh?” he singsongs into the heavy, golden, post-sex silence of the trailer. His smile is swollen and crooked and barely there. It’s a very hushed sunshine compared to your distant pout.

“‘Cause I still feel bad,” you confess, voice so soft it’s nearly inaudible. Your feet knock with Eddie’s when your anxious legs entwine with his. “I made you miss that movie.”

“You didn’t make me miss shit,” Eddie laughs, assertive but not unkind. His warm palm spreads over your cheek. His chocolate eyes dance between both of yours. “I stayed in ‘cause I wanted to, alright? I wanted to spend time with you.”

“You called me a succubus,” you tease with a gentle giggle.

He had, though he doesn’t have much recollection of it. You looked far too pretty underneath him, and he’d been far too close to his orgasm. 

His hips rutted sloppily against yours, his rhythm gone totally stupid after feeling you gush around him. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” he babbled into the sticky skin of your neck, voice tighter and higher than usual. “You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, baby? Pussy’s so good… I’d fucking— I’d do anything you wanted me to— shit.”

His legs are still numb from the mind-blowing climax he had a moment later.

Eddie’s chuckle is louder and more boyish than yours. It fills the trailer with sunlight. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause you are. Which means I’d much rather be here with you than at The Hawk with all those other schmucks.”

He kisses you to seal his promise — a chaste peck upon your smiling mouth. It’s beautifully innocuous compared to how good he was making you feel hardly more than five minutes ago.

“I know you don’t like those movies anyway, so…”

“That’s not true,” you argue with a very believable pout.

His gaze goes sympathetic. “Babe… You almost cried when we watched Nightmare on Elm Street the other day.”

“No, I didn’t!” You most certainly did.

“You said you weren’t gonna sleep ever again.”

“I like horror movies ‘cause you like horror movies, dummy.”

The term of endearment makes him grin. He likes it when you get all mean, though you never really mean it. “Is that so?” he lilts with raised brows that disappear behind his fuzzy bangs. The ends of the umber strands are damp with sweat.

You nod lazily against his arm. His fingers are starting to tingle with numbness, but he loves you too much to move.

“Mm-hmm. That’s how relationships work. Compromise. I tolerate horror movies, and you tolerate—”

“Your Harrison Ford obsession?”

You lose your firmness and get all sheepish. “Shut up…”

“I’m pretty sure they were showing Return of the Jedi in the theater over, right after Sleepaway Camp,” Eddie observes suddenly, brushing stray strands of your wild hair from your temple. “We coulda had a double feature tonight, but you wanted to stay in with little old me.”

“That’s ‘cause I love you a whole lot more than some guy I’ve never met.”

Eddie beams at your words. His eyes start to glitter like he’s won something, and his cheeks speckle pink with pride. He’ll never get tired of hearing you say that. He’ll never get tired of you loving him.

“I’m flattered,” he singsongs and means it.

You smile and lean in to kiss his grin. The boy gasps before you can. He springs up from the couch at a moment’s notice, climbing over you with naked limbs. He flashes you his bare ass just before he tugs on the crumbled pair of boxers left forgotten on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, eyes narrowed in curiosity and mouth quirked in amusement. You twist on the couch so you’re propped against the back of it. You clutch the heavy quilt to your naked chest.

“I forgot something,” Eddie mumbles, halfway to himself, then sends you a lighthearted glare over his shoulder. “Don’t move!”

You still, grinning softly at the boy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. You watch him while he rifles through a plastic bag beside the TV stand. “I got us something while I was at the Halloween store with Harrington earlier,” Eddie explains over the noisy crinkling sound.

“Oh, god…” you murmur.

Eddie laughs and looks at you over his shoulder again. “C’mon, babe. Have a little hope, would you?”

He returns to the couch with a smirk and something he hides behind his back. He grins like a kid when he reveals them to you — two packages of Star Wars themed costumes held in both his hands. 

Pictured on one is a guy who looks eerily like Han Solo — complete with the vest, blouse, and holster triad. The other is an uncanny Leia Organa in a skin-tight white suit, beige knee-high boots, and a flowing cape.

You blink at both of them, then at Eddie. 

“…I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

“Our Halloween costumes!” he exclaims with a beam. “See, I’m gonna be Han Solo— ‘cause I’m, you know, charming and sarcastic and handsome.”

“Don’t forget humble,” you joke with a lovesick grin.

“—And you will be my beautiful, hard-headed Leia Organa.”

You glance again at the package in his right hand, at the pretty woman on the cover. You know you won’t look nearly as good in the costume as she does. Your soft smile flickers. 

“Eds…” you mutter in a wavering lilt.

A frown forms between his bushy brows, similar to the one you’d been sporting earlier. “What?”

“I told you I wasn’t gonna dress up this year, remember?” you remind him, shifting awkwardly on the couch and clutching the blanket closer to yourself.

“But it’s Halloween, babe! Why wouldn’t you wear a costume?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you stammer out an excuse. “Because— I don’t know— I’m too… indecisive. Like, that’s a lot of pressure.”

“That’s why I picked for you!” Eddie grins, totally oblivious.

You laugh. It’s a bit cynical but not totally unkind. “I am not wearing that.”

He pouts, like a child or a hurt puppy. “But why not?” he wonders with a crestfallen inflection.

Again, you stammer. “Because— I mean— Just look at her, Eds!” you gesture to the package he holds with a significant focus to the girl on the front. “I don’t look like her!”

He grows from sad to confused. His brows pinch as he tilts his head to the side. His wild curls tickle his bare, pale shoulder. “Oh… kay?” he mutters, trying his best to understand you but not getting it completely.

You huff. Your chest stings as you explain it all to him.

“I’m… I’m not gonna look like the girl on the cover. You know that, right? I’m not— I’m not Princess Leia kind beautiful, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs, seemingly agreeing with you and smiling all over again. “You’re a you kind beautiful. That’s what makes you so damn sexy.”

He leans down over you with the intention to kiss you. 

Still pouting and inwardly aching, you pull back from him.

“Eddie…” you murmur, still gentle but obviously sadder.

He concedes with a small sigh. The couch cushions dip with his weight when he sits down beside you. He leaves the packages abandoned on the other side of him and gives you his full attention. 

“Look… You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, alright? We can stay in for Halloween for all I care. I just… I think it’d be a lot of fun, you know?” the boy rambles with a seriousness that’s typically foreign to him. His palm smooths across your knee over the thick quilt. His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “And I think you’d look… very pretty as my Princess Leia.”

His chocolate eyes twinkle with an undeniable sincerity. It makes your chest feel so warm it burns.

“Yeah?” you mumble, not quite believing him but wanting him to hear him say it anyway.

“Totally,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. He presses a lingering peck to your lips, then melts when he tastes leftover sex upon them. 

A switch flips within him then. His belly twists, and his eyelids get all heavy. His smirk is weighed down by lust as he pulls back from you and shrugs. “I think I could show you better than I could tell you, actually…”

Across the living room, the door busts open. 

Sunlight explodes throughout the dim trailer, making the two of you squint. 

Steve enters first, knocking on the open door to announce his arrival. “Phone’s off the hook,” he observes, pointing to the telephone lying face up on the table beside the front door. 

Eddie had two fingers inside you, and the thing just wouldn’t stop ringing. He grumbled in annoyance when he had to part from you to hang it up.

Steve puts the thing back on the hook while Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle walk in behind him.

Mortified, you watch with wide eyes as your uninvited friends file in. Your grip tightens around the blanket. You use one hand to make sure every inch of your naked body is covered with it.

Eddie doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by it as you are. Instead, he huffs in annoyance and spreads his arms along the back of the couch. They were the ones barging in, after all. If they had a problem with his pale, lanky figure and his thin, plaid boxers, then that was on them.

“Oh. Come in,” he hums, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “Make yourselves at home.”

Robin’s got a thousand-year stare in her eye and a blue, red, and purple mouth. “Can I use your bathroom?” she wavers, voice strained. Her fists are clenched beneath her baggy flannel. They tremble beside her baggier jeans.

“Uh, yeah. Knock yourself out.”

She’s already rushing down the hall before he can get the words out.

The two of you watch her leave and then turn to Steve. He’s an expert in all things Robin Buckley nowadays. He shrugs and tells you, “She had, like, four slurpees while we were waiting on you guys at The Hawk.”

You shift awkwardly like you’re getting scolded. Eddie only laughs.

As all the gang settles around the trailer — Jonathan on the recliner, Nancy on the arm of it, and Steve sitting on the adjacent table — Argyle is the only one without a place to sit. He idles beside the couch, smiling at you with rosy lips and rosier eyes.

“How are you doing today, amigo?” he wonders with a curt nod, as mellow as ever.

You smile up at the boy, not nearly as fazed by the bright style and long raven hair as you used to be. Actually, you’ve grown quite fond of his slurred jokes that don’t really have a punchline because halfway through, he realizes he’s forgotten it entirely.

“Good,” you respond, crossing your arms over the quilt you’ve got bunched at your chest. “You?”

“I’m peachy, brochacho,” he nods back at you. He grins, but the bright expression is weighed down by the weed. The skunky smell entwines with his musky cologne, creating a deep earthy scene that’s much more bearable than the weed alone.

“Not that I’m not thrilled you guys showed up—” Eddie starts with an inflection that would imply otherwise, wide eyes flitting around the room. “—But what the hell are you doing here?”

“You’d know if you answered the phone,” Steve retorts with a scrunched nose, flipping through a random car magazine. The Beemer on the front matches the sunshine yellow of his sweatshirt.

“Well, I was a little busy, Harrington—”

You nudge Eddie before he can finish the stupid joke. Everyone could already hear it anyhow — “I was a little busy, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” 

He shoots you an innocently confused look. You give him a half-hearted glare in return.

“You guys flaked on movie night, so we brought the movies to you,” Nancy singsongs with a sweet, pink smile.

Jonathan unrolls the folded-up paper bag between his feet. The flimsy cardboard crackles loudly as he rifles through it. He pulls out a number of unblanketed VHS tapes with handwritten stickers glued to the front of them. 

“Uh… We got Sleepaway Camp, obviously,” the Byers boy mutters in his usual Byers way. He waves the tape in his hand and sits it off to the side. He reaches into the bag and grabs two more. “Twilight Zone and, uh, Return of the Jedi.”

Eddie is as grateful as he is confused. Movie night wasn’t totally gone, and both of your movies had been seemingly carrier-pigeoned to his trailer, but neither should be out on VHS yet. “How…?” the boy trails off with pinched-together brows.

Argyle answers. “Let’s just say I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy…” he smirks, then swirls his features in puzzlement. It looks like he’s trying to do math in his head. “…Who knows a guy.”

“I can pop some popcorn if you guys wanna, you know, make yourselves decent,” Steve teases with a feigned maliciousness as he hops off the square table. The old thing squeaks under his weight.

Eddie’s retort doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh. Right. My bad, Stevie. It’s not like you totally barged in on us or anything.”

You shake your head at their bickering, though you’re still smiling quietly to yourself. Eddie shields you while you rise from the couch. You wear the heavy quilt like a dress as you shuffle down the hallway to his bedroom. The thing trails behind you as you go.

“Sorry about them, sweetheart,” Eddie apologizes as soon as the door clicks closed. 

He’d wanted to say something earlier, but kept his mouth shut instead of making it a bigger deal. He knew you were bound to be embarrassed — because you almost always tend to be, anyway. He didn’t want to draw attention to the situation, or least of all to you, and make it that much worse.

“’S okay,” you shrug and drop the blanket on the carpet. 

Eddie tries not to go all teenage boy at the sight of your naked body, but he nearly loses his mind when you bend over to pick up one of his t-shirts from the floor. 

“We did sorta flake on them,” you reason as you tug the cotton over your head. The baggy fabric falls over you like rain.

Eddie shakes his head, mostly at himself. He couldn’t love you more if he tried.

“Only you would blame yourself when those assholes walked in on us,” he laughs, walking the short distance to you and wrapping you in his arms from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your neck. You smell like flowers, sex, and his cologne. 

“You’re too sweet for your own good, baby. No wonder those schmucks won’t leave us alone.”

Robin’s voice seemingly comes from within the walls — ‘cause the bathroom is only one room over, and the walls are especially thin. “Rude!” she grouses, voice muffled. “I mean, it’s true, but still.”

[darlingsfandom]

Heyyyyyy, so we know Cillian likes boobs... But what about reader 👀!! Could we get a fic about reader being obsessed with something of Cillians... Maybe his hair or hands... Or something else haha!

Aren’t we all obsessed with the amazing dilf???

TW: fingering, face fucking, ball sucking , facial, swearing, not proofread.

Eyes, lips, nose , fingers , hips and more! You loved every inch of Cillian. He was sculpted by the gods on your eyes. He always looked good!

“Baby girl?” He asked as he waved his hand in your face.

“Yes?” You blinked.

“Are ya okay? Ya keep lookin at me and sayin nothin.” Cillian felt your forehead with the back of his hand. You looked down at your legs before he picked your head back up. “Ya don’t feel sick or look sick, wuts goin on?”

“Fuck me!” You blurted out. You quickly shut your mouth as Cillian rubbed the back of his neck. He looked around the room to see if anyone had heard you since he was in the middle of a photo shoot . If you had thought with your brain instead of your pussy your face wouldn’t be so red right now. He grabbed your hand and excused himself for a break before he took you to his dressing room.

“Baby girl, I fucked you before bed, this morning before the shoot and now you need me again? Yer becomin a very greedy girl.” Cillian sat with you the couch as you played with your thumbs.

“I can’t help it! You just look so good all the time!” You whined rubbing your thighs together and it didn’t go unnoticed. Cillian placed his hand on your exposed knee and pulled your legs apart. His fingers slowly slid up and over until he felt the wetness leaking out of you. His eyebrows furrowed together as he easily pushed his fingers into you making you grip his wrists. “Baby girl, ya didn’t wear any panties out in public ? Naughty girl! Anyone coulda seen yer pretty little cunt!” His fingers slowly twisted inside of you making you whine. Cillian watched as his worked you over.

“Wanted to make it easier for you!” You mumbled out. Cillian pulled out his fingers and licked them clean before he stood up in front of you. He toyed with the zipper on his pants making you sit up forward. “I want your cock! Please!” You begged as he stood there with a smirk that made you clench around nothing.

“I dunno baby girl, ya’ve been so greedy, it’s almost like yer obsessed with me and my cock.” Cillian put his hand down his pants to squeeze his aching boner.

“I am! I love you and that big cock of yours! Fills me nice and deep!” You leaned back against the couch and lifted your legs before spreading them to show off your dripping cunt. His eyes went wide while he licked his lips.

“That’s because your cunt is mine!” Before you could respond you felt the sting of his slap against your cunt.

“All yours!!” You moaned out. A pout fell on your lips as he pulled out his cock but surprise ran through your veins when he pulled down your legs, grabbed your hair and pulled you down onto your knees. A smirk played on your lips. You loved when he was rough with you. Cillian grabbed his dick and tapped the head of it against your lips making you open up.

“Good girl! Ya know yer a good little cock sucker.” His words made you wet. You eagerly wrapped your lips around the head but Cillian couldn’t help himself, he pulled your mouth down his cock until your nose brushed his happy trail. You gagged a little bit before he let you back up. Once you relaxed your throat you went all the way down until your nose was once again in his happy trail. He kept his hand on the back of your head as you sucked on his cock like a good girl.

“Fuck, that’s my good girl!” He praised you as you swirled your tongue around him. You pulled away quickly only to hungrily suck at his balls. It always surprised Cillian how eager you were to suck his balls. It always felt so good. You looked up at him through your eyelashes with his balls in your mouth.

He pulled you away and shoved his cock back down your throat. You gagged loudly until your nails were digging into his thighs. Cillian was in a state of mind that he couldn’t even describe. He watched as the drool dribble down your chin and onto your tits. You whined around his cock making him moan out your name. “That’s so good baby girl!” His hands went onto the back of your head and held you down on his cock as he started to roughly fuck your throat. The room filled with the sounds of your gags and throat fucking sounds that if anyone walked by the would know what was going on. He didn’t ease up no matter how much you were crying or gagging. Cillian was taking what was his.

Finally he pulled out making you gasp for breath with a heavy sigh. You looked freshly fucked and all you did was get face fucked. Your own wetness was dripping down your legs as he stood above you jerking his cock. You watched with glazed eyes as his balls tightened and his breath hitched.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned as his cum shot out and covered your face. It landed all over your cheeks, lips and nose as he came. “Fuck!” He huffed shaking the last few drops onto your pretty face. “Don’t think I’m done with ya yet baby, yer gonna stay right here with my cum on my face until I’m done with my shoot.” He put his cock away and zipped himself back up. “And when I get back, I’m gonna fuck ya nice and hard. But only if yer a good girl which means my cum is still on your face and ya didn’t touch yerself! Got it?” You nodded slowly before he kissed your cum covered lips and walked out of the room to leave you in your mess. It’s what he thought you deserved for being such a greedy girl lately.

[thebearer]

the milestones menu: nonna berzatto's homemade pasta

prompt: yours and carmen's first "i love you".

contains: fluff, general fluff. some mentions to dead relatives, carmen's self doubt, but very minimal bc it's very fluffy :)

2 cups of flour- Semolina. 

4 Large Eggs 

Pinch of Salt

Put flour into a mound. Make a center, and add the eggs to the middle. Whisk slowly with a fork, gradually working it in little at a time until nice and thick. Knead the mixture for about ten minutes. Let it rest in the fridge for thirty minutes. Put it in a ball, and roll it out very thin. 

“Can’t believe you never had homemade pasta.” Carmen shook his head, blue eyes peeking out from under the mess of curls. 

“Nope.” You shook your head, grinning over the crystal wine glass, sipping your riesling slowly. “Strictly a boxed pasta girl.” 

“Fuckin’ criminal.” Carmen grinned, a playful, lopsided smirk that had you blushing.

The counter was covered in flour, stopping just where you rested, propped up on the granite while Carmen worked. Your eyes trained on his hands, hands that stirred the eggs into the flour, kneaded the dough until your thighs were clenching. 

“My Nonna is rollin’ in her grave right now, you know that?” Carmen pulled you from your gaze, rolling out the dough. 

“Noooo, don't say that.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re making me feel bad, Carmen. I swear I thought Olive Garden made fresh pasta.” 

Carmen laughed, a little shy but louder now- more himself. He’d blossomed with you lately, unveiling new parts of himself every single day. “‘M just kiddin’, baby.” Carmen hummed, eyes cutting to you a little skeptical. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. That sounded douchey, right?” 

You smiled, setting your glass behind you. “No, I was just messin’ with you, bear.” The nickname- his nickname. Hearing it more and more roll from your tongue, each time his heart skipped harder than the last. 

“Is this her recipe?” You asked, picking up the faded recipe card, looped cursive on the aged paper. “Your Nonna’s?” 

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded. “I, uh, so when I left to go to culinary school, right? She was sick, and… and I think she, like, knew that when I went to New York that would be the last time she saw me.” Carmen’s face dropped, slow and sad, it made your own heart sink. 

“So she-she gave me all these recipe books and-and cards that were hers. We used to cook together a lot. She taught me how to cook, y’know? My mom and dad were always at the restaurant and didn’t want to cook when they got home. They didn’t want me in the restaurant either so I spent a lot of time with her.” Carmen muttered. You could see the memories playing behind his eyes. 

You liked to picture that version of Carmen, a little boy with wild curls, helping his Nonna cook. Happy memories. 

“That’s sweet.” You smiled, leaning against the cabinets. “She did a really good job. You know she’s so insanely proud of you.” 

Carmen snorted, shaking his head lightly. “Yes, she is. Everyone’s proud of you, Carmen… I’m proud of you.” You hesitate, eyes scanning his features. It was true, of course, but handling Carmen sometimes was like handling a frightened animal. You were never sure what would make him scatter away in fear. 

Carmen swallowed thickly, cheeks flushed red, lips in a tight line. “T-Thanks.” Carmen muttered, wiping his hands on his apron, tossing the flour back into his clammy hands. 

“She, uh, she woulda loved you, y’know.” Carmen’s eyes met yours, intense and piercing. “I wish you coulda met her.” 

“Yeah, me too.” You nod. “I would’ve loved to hear all the baby Carmen cooking stories. I bet she had some good ones.” You smiled, bright and wide- perfect. It made Carmen’s brain numb. 

“Yeah, she would.” Carmen nodded, hands stilling, still buried in the dough. 

He felt it in his bones, his heart, consuming his thoughts. The overwhelming need he’d felt for weeks, since the first time you kissed him really, that he’d been fighting- too scared to say. What he felt every time he looked at you, when he thought about you. 

“Um, I-I wanna say something, and-and I don’t know if I should even fuckin’ say this or-or if it’s… fuck, if you-you feel the same or I just, I don’t wanna fuck this up because this is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and-and I’m workin’ on not ruinin’ good shit in my life and bein’ ok with it like-like my therapist says ya know, but-” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in fast, overwhelming bouts that took you by surprise. 

Carmen flustered, reaching a dough covered hand to his face, the sticky batter catching on his brows and hair. He flushed deeply, hands shaking in embarrassment, cursing under his breath. “F-Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I-I, nevermind, it’s not… I don’t know why-why I would-” His hands trembled, body shaking with anger and embarrassment. Way to fuckin’ go, Berzatto, you fuckin’ ruin it. That’s all you ever do, Carmen thought bitterly, wiping his hands off on the cloth. 

“Carm,” You said softly, your voice a beacon in the raging sea of his mind, pulling him out of his own harsh thoughts. 

Carmen turned, a fury flush of pure embarrassment that burnt all down his cheeks to his chest. Eyes soft and wary, hesitant like he was doomed, destined for the worse. 

You slide off the counter easily, grabbing the spare towel, bringing it to his eyebrows, wiping the dough off gently. The softness of your touch soothed Carmen, lulling his hammering heart- he didn’t see your own shaking hands, filled with your own adrenaline nerves. 

You stood in front of him, eyes on the other, careful and watching- unsure. “I-I love you, too.” Your breath hitched, squeezing the words out in a nervous tumble. Carmen didn’t move, body going rigid, heart stopping entirely. The ringing was back in his ears, clouding his brain so loudly he was sure he heard you wrong. 

“I’ve wanted to say it for a while, too, but didn’t…” You shook your head, heat in your own cheeks, eyes casting down to his dough covered hand. “I didn’t know if-if you felt that or if- I don’t know, I didn’t want to seem crazy or obsessive if it was too soon, and-and scare you.” 

“No,” Carmen croaked, tongue thick in his own mouth. “No, I-I mean- fuck,” Carmen shook his head, looking to the wall. He needed a second, words jumbled in his mouth, heart racing, so high off the adrenaline he felt like he could combust at any moment. 

“I-I was gonna say that too.” Carmen nodded, the quirk in your lips making his heart lurch. “That I love you. I was- yeah, I love you. I-I have for a while.” 

“Really?” You whispered, voice tiny and excited, like it was a secret just for the two of you. Maybe it was. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Carmen let out a breathy, shaky laugh. “I love you, and-and I just love you so much it makes my brain hurt sometimes.” 

“Me too.” You grin, a hand pressing to his cheek. “I love you.” The phrase you’d repressed for so long, deprived yourself of saying now spilled out of you like a mantra- like that was all you could say now. 

Carmen grinned, brain bubbly and light. He let you pull him into a kiss, head tilting down, lips molding over yours so they fit perfectly. 

Later over plates of Bologonese, you grinned across the table from Carmen. “If I didn’t tell you I loved you before, I definitely would now.” You moaned, pointing at the plate. “I really was missing out.” 

Carmen beamed under your praise, gooey and love drunk off your words- off you. He knew Viola Berzatto, wherever she was, was boasting with pride. 

And he knew his Nonna would have loved you too. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: New at This

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lloyd tugs in his ear lobe as you get up to take your empty bowl to the counter. The lone cashier smiles and gives a nervous look past you to the corner. You return to the table and wonder if he has a reputation here. You wouldn't be surprised with his behaviour. 

"Is your ear alright?" You ask as you take the cup of iced tea. 

"Huh?" He turns to you and drops his hand. "Yeah, hearing's f-- off. Just got back from a job and... the machinery was loud." 

"Hm, it could be a busted ear drum. I know someone who had that. He never could hear me but that coulda been the TV too," you shrug. 

"It's fine," he taps his fingers on the table as you stay standing. "So, you headed out?" 

"Yeah, I guess I should. Getting dark." 

"Right," he nods. "Well," he stands and tugs at the bottom of his shirt, shaking off the crumbs. "You need a ride?" 

He zips up his jacket, the collar ending just below his chin. You button up your blue houndstooth coat. "No, I can make it." 

"Wait, you're not walking are you?" He asks as he gathers up the wrapper and napkins. 

"Not too far if I cut behind the barbershop--" 

"Cut behind-- are you serious? You can't be walking down alleys in the dark. Trust me." 

"Oh?" You give him a curious look, "you hang out in dark alleyways a lot?" 

His brow tweaks and his lips twitch, "is that a joke?" 

"Not a very good one," you smile. "I always make it." 

"And this might be the time you don't. Least I can do. You bought me dinner, I feel like I owe you a ride." 

"You don't owe me anything," you assure him. 

"Huh, you're too nice, you know that? You could give a guy the wrong idea." l

"No, I don't think so," you sigh. "Being nice isn't anything but. I hope your enjoyed your dinner." 

"You know what? The chipotle wasn't bad," he says. "So now that's two things. I owe you for paying and for the good advice. What's that you said about paying it forward?" 

Checkmate. Using your own words against you. As it is, you're starting to feel rude for saying no so many times. It would be nice not to have to walk home with your phone light on. 

"Is taking a ride from a strange man better than walking home alone?" You ask, "since you're the expert?" 

"Wow, you can be mean," he snorts. "Reading me like a book." 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m kidding.” 

“I know, tootsie roll,” he says, “sweet like candy, aren’t ya?” 

You smile again, “well, you can be too. I’ll take the ride. Thank you.” 

He dumps the garbage in the bin and heads for the door. He lets you out ahead of him. It’s colder than when you got there. 

“It’s cold as... hell out here,” he says follows you out. He points you ahead, “the white one.” 

He blows into his hands and rubs them together. You’re no fan of the cold either but you can see his nose already turning red. You approach the white car; it’s sleek and shiny. You’re not sure what make it is but it must be expensive. 

The doors click loudly, “should be unlocked.” 

You nod and open the passenger door. You sit daintily, wary of the luxury interior. You shut the door just as carefully as he gets in the other side. He grumbles as he starts the engine and flicks switches. 

“Get those seat warmers on,” he says. “Ah, better.” He puts his palms to the blast of warmth from the vent before he grips the wheel. “Help me out, tootsie roll, where am I going?” 

“Right down to Harbour. East.” 

“Harbour East... you kidding me? You were really going to walk there alone?” He scoffs. 

“It’s not so bad once you get to know the area,” you say.  

“How’d you end up there?” He pulls into a three point turn as he reroutes. 

“I guess it’s just where I am right now. Thing’s changed fast and I had to make it work,” you lean into the seat. You’ve never been in a car with seat warmers. 

“Huh, that’s too bad,” he clucks. “You still looking for a place? I know a guy, owns a few properties...” 

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you hum lightly. “Really. It’s nice. I got my own space, I got food, I’m happy as can be.” 

“Simple things, so I’ve heard,” he mutters. 

You let a lull wash over you. Judging by his car, simple isn’t exactly to his taste. 

“So...” you brush your fingertips over your palm, “what do you do for work? You travel? When you mentioned your ear...” 

“Ah, yeah, er,” he squeezes the wheel tighter and coughs, “you know, I’m on the road when I need to be. Work can be sporadic but pays well enough. Specialty type of work.” 

“With loud machinery...” 

“Military engineer. You know, artillery, tanks... whatever,” he peeks over at you as blows through a four-way. 

“Hey, you missed the stop sign,” you crane to see behind you. 

“It’s fine, no one was crossing,” he says. 

“Yeah but... it’s not safe.” You turn forward again and frown. 

He’s quiet again. He sucks his teeth, “fine, you’re right. Not fair of me to offer you a ride then drive like a maniac. I’ll do better.” 

You let out a breath and subtly grab onto the door. Despite his promises, he doesn’t let off the gas. With how quiet the car is, it must be easy to go over the limit.  

He pulls onto Harbour and finally slows, “so, uh, why don’t you give me a call next time you head down to the shop? We could do it again. I’ll be nice this time.” 

“I don’t go too often but sure, I could use a friend,” you perk up and direct him to your building. 

“You telling me you don’t got friends, tootsie roll?” He stops in front of your apartment. 

“I... did. They’re gone now,” you look away. You try not to get to wistful about it. “Anyway, thanks--” 

“Holy f—moley,” he corrects himself as he leans forward to see around you, “this place can’t be up to code--” 

“Lloyd,” you blurt out. “I’m fine. Really. Home safe. Thanks to you.” 

“Mhm, well, friends are supposed to worry about each other, right?” 

“And as your friend, I’m telling you not to worry,” you smile and pull the handle, “have a good night.” 

He huffs as you undo your seat belt, “yeah, good night.” 

[toxicanonymity]

so excited for next raider joel i am literally foaming at the mouth

Company

2.2k / dark raider!joel x dark!f!reader x ofc

raider master

gif by @serenaxpedro

“I’ll do it,” you say, unsure what that even means. Joel looks surprised and impressed.  “You’ll do it, then,” he repeats quietly.

Skip ahead to Raider: Close if you're not into the warnings.

WARNINGS: Striking through extra detailed spoilery warnings but wanna be thorough. These don't all happen to reader. Angst, jealousy, dark reader!, FFM threesome kind of, oral m & f receiving, spanking/pussy slapping, noncon gunplay/penetration, unsafe P in V sex (not btwn Joel and OFC), dubcon via captivity, degradation, cum eating, threat of/allusions to cheating kind of. joel makes reader noncon ofc, f on f oral  PLUS stuff already in play like being chained up.

A/N: Ask 1, Ask 2. TBH I had trouble getting on board with the idea of adding another girl, but eventually a twisted version i could live with came together in my head. Still, I bet some people will not like it. Please don't read if you could be triggered or upset. 🧡 I did not describe the OFC, so please HC her however makes you happy.

-

When Joel gets back, his arms are the first thing you notice.  He’s wearing a body holster with a pistol over his mesh tank top.  The body holster makes his shoulder muscles look even more imposing.  The second thing you notice is that he’s not alone.  He’s dragging another girl by her elbow.  She looks like she’s been crying, but she’s not now.  She’s angry.  Joel doesn’t look at you when he comes in.  He slams the door behind him and hangs up his gun.  He throws her down on the other bed, then cages her with his body.   He holds her chin and and says, “Don’t fuckin’ move.”  She spits in his face.  

He takes a deep breath and cracks his neck without his hands.  ”Been nothin’ but nice to ya,” he says.  “That ends now.”  

Shamefully, your first thought is, what does he mean by ‘nice to her’? Was he the same as he is with you? Did he save her from a worse fate? Did he stroke her cheek and tell her it was going to be alright? Did tell her he was going to take her with him, protect her from far worse men?  How many times has he done this? You hate to think you might not be special.  

Joel unbuttons his pants and looks at the girl menacingly. “Coulda made this enjoyable for ya,” he says regretfully.  “Too bad.”

Your stomach turns and your heart pounds.  Is this all because you kissed him? Is he punishing you for your affection? It’s not fair.  He’s the one who kissed you first in the middle of the night.  Your eyes sting with tears.  You can’t sit here and let this happen.

“What are you doing?” you cry. 

“What am I doing?” he laughs.  He pauses without unzipping his pants.  Finally, he looks at you as he palms himself.  Your eyes follow his hand and you’re relieved to see he’s not fully hard yet. 

“Don’t,” you plead.  “I’ll do whatever you want.”

He unzips his tight jeans and takes his semi-hard cock out.  He asks you, “Where should I put it?” with his pelvis still pointed toward the other bed. 

“Do you have to put it anywhere?” you whimper.  The girl looks at you hopefully like you really have a say.  Like you might be trying to help her. 

“Do I have to,” he grumbles.  You run through the options in your head.  He could put it in her mouth, that’s not too bad. A mouth is just a mouth, right? There’s no way she would do a good job on purpose. But hopefully she wouldn’t bite him, either. 

-

Joel approaches you and spits in his hand.  As he begins to stroke himself with the spit, you say, “Let me.” He holds his cock for you and you try to suck him as good as you can, but he just wants the saliva.  He won’t let you make him come.  Your eyes well up.  

“Shhhh,” he says and cups your cheek as he takes his cock away.  He sighs, then nods back toward the rest of the stash house. “You think they want just any girl? They want what’s mine.” He glances over at the girl then back at you.  He lowers his voice. “She could save your life.” As sweet as that is, it doesn’t make you feel much better about him putting his cock in another woman.  

“Do you really have to?” you plead. 

“Where do you want me to put it?” he asks again.

“In me,” you beg.  He studies your face. 

He looks up at the ceiling contemplatively.  “Well either I’m doin’ it, or you’re doin’ it,” he offers. 

“I’ll do it,” you say, unsure what that even means.  You just know it has to be better than watching or hearing him fuck another girl.  If you have to finger her or even give her head, so be it.

Joel looks surprised and impressed.  “You’ll do it, then,” he repeats quietly.  He unchains you from the radiator and takes the pistol out of his body holster.  He holds it by the barrel and hands it to you.  

Your face goes cold. 

“No,” the girl whimpers, sitting in the corner of the cot with her knees hugged into her chest. 

“You heard her,” Joel says.  “She’s doin’ it. Right, sweet pea?”  

Your hand shakes as you grip the gun.   Joel motions for you to go to the other bed.  

-

“You’re sick,” the girl whimpers at Joel. “Shoot him!” she demands of you.  “What are you waiting for?? SHOOT HIM!” 

Instead, you stand at the end of the cot.  “Get back here,” you say weakly, gun still shaking in your hand.  “And turn over.” 

She shakes her head.  You cock the gun. 

“Damn,” Joel whispers. She still doesn’t move. She cries. 

Joel loses patience and grabs her by the thighs, jerking her to the end of the bed.  He pulls her dress up over her ass, clenches his jaw, and spanks her.  Then he stands between you and the bed.  He spits on his fingers and turns to face you.  He keeps his knuckles facing you as he reaches back and slaps her pussy without looking at her. She yelps. He keeps his hand there and rubs her clit while he stares at you with his hard dick in his other hand. 

“Go on,” he tells you.  “You can do it, sweet pea.” 

“You’re both sick,” she whimpers. 

You steady the gun in both hands, avoiding the trigger, and bring the muzzle to her wet cunt.  She shrieks at the cold ring of metal.  Then you grab her hip for leverage and use your dominant hand to carefully push the barrel into her, gently maneuvering it so it doesn’t catch.  She groans “No.”  

Joel strokes your cheek and looks at you affectionately.  Then he gets behind you, with both of you facing the bed.  He puts his hands on your hips and presses his hard-on into your dress. 

“Go on,” Joel urges and his cock hardens as he pushes it against you.  

You begin to slide the gun in and out of her. 

Joel brings his mouth to your head.  “Good girl,” he whispers and puts his large hands on your hips.  He raises your dress, exposing your ass.  He pulls down your panties, then puts a hand on the small of your back.  You spread your feet more, so relieved and grateful he’s not fucking the other girl.  He flattens his fingers and rubs your clit until you’re wet enough.  It doesn’t take long. 

-

You’ve slowed down with the pistol, focusing more on the feeling of his hand between your legs.  Joel pauses.  “Don’t stop,” Joel cautions.  “Or I’ll do it myself, and not with the gun.”  You start again.  He notches the head of his cock at your entrance and waits. You begin railing her steadily with the barrel of the gun.  “Good, sweet pea,” he murmurs.  

He pushes his tip inside you and you gasp at the stretch, temporarily pausing the rhythm of the gun.  Then he puts one hand on your pelvis for leverage and holds a breast with the other.  He slams his cock into you, jolting you up and forward, with the momentum slamming the gun harshly into her cunt.  She whimpers.  

“Sorry,” you whisper to her and try to steady your hand as Joel fucks you. But the last thing you would do is ask him to stop or ease up. 

Joel drives his length into you steadily.  Your face tenses and your temples feel weak.  You’re still jealous and your mind drifts to whether he’s looking at you or the other girl.  Or is he just watching you fuck her with his gun.  You know he’s an awful man.  Face it, it turns him on. 

You put it out of your mind and focus on the feeling of being filled by him.  His fingers pressing into your skin as his cock impales you, strong but gentle, like him.  You can’t help but moan as he fills you up with his flesh. His cock completes you just right.  You need him to be all yours. 

He switches hands, using his other hand for leverage as he cups your opposite breast.  He buries his mouth in your neck and that makes you feel better, your brow softens.  He bites you and it feels close enough to a kiss that your heart swells.  He sucks your skin, and he moans at the feeling of your nipple hardening into the palm of his hand.  He massages your breast and you begin to twitch around his cock.  He moans into your neck.

“Sweet pea,” he murmurs. “You feel so good.”  Your heart flutters at his words and your lower abdomen buzzes with warmth.  “Whore like that could never. No one else could.” With that validation, you fuck her harder with the gun. “That’s it, baby,” Joel whispers, slamming his cruel cock into you.  “Just like that.”  Your arm gets tired and you switch hands.  It’s so tempting to put down the gun, but you don’t want to find out whether he’d really fuck her.  You don’t want to disappoint him either, and you don’t want him to stop fucking you.

Joel’s hands slither around your body, and his cock pounds into you harder.  “You’re doin’ great, pretty girl.” You feel yourself on the edge of climax.  He slams into you with a grunt. “This pussy’s all mine,” he pants.  “gonna stay that way.”  You lean back into his chest and enjoy the feeling of his body wrapped around yours while you’re wrapped around his cock.  He begins to stroke your clit and you moan.  He breathes heavier and grunts with each thrust. 

He pulls out before either of you come.  You sigh at the loss but his fingers gather slick from your dripping cunt then return to your clit and he outdoes himself.  He puts his mouth to your ear.  “Go ‘head, baby,” and his low whisper makes you see stars.  

You moan and tremble and fall into her, plunging the gun deeper. 

“Pretty when ya come,”  he murmurs and rubs your back while you finish.  Then he grabs your ass affectionately and steps to your side;  You flinch, your ass is even more sore today. 

He slowly pumps his cock and kneels onto the cot with one knee.  He takes your hand and makes you take the gun out. She collapses onto the dirty mattress.  

-

“What’d I do wrong?” you ask him.  

“You did great, sweet pea. You did perfect,” he says as he gets up on the cot and it creaks under his full weight.  

She tries to squirm away and he stops her with a hand on her ass. He’s facing her side and looking at you as he pumps himself.  He straddles one of her legs and you whimper.  He points his cock at her pussy, then he looks at you again as he strokes himself and comes on her ass.  It trickles down her crack to her cunt. You don’t want his cum between her legs, it tugs at your tear ducts, but you’re comforted by his eye contact with you when he came. 

He gets off the cot, tucks his dick away, then comfortingly squeezes your shoulder and watches you watch his cum trickle down.  “You want it so bad, take it,”  he says.  He crosses his arms and nods toward her.  

It feels like a command.  You reach out your hand. 

“Nuh-uh.  With your mouth, sweet pea.” 

You obediently bend at the hips and lean over the cot.  Joel pries her legs open for you.  You plant your mouth between her legs and lick from her cunt, while trying to strain your eyes to meet Joel’s for approval.  “Yeah, get it all, baby.”  You drag your tongue up her crack. 

You swallow it and he holds out his arms for you.  He helps you down from the cot and takes you back over to yours.  “You’re gonna stay here for a li’l bit, sweet pea.  Keep her company.”  

You sniffle. “Do I have to?”

“Yeah, baby. I’ll come back for you later.”  He kisses you on the head and makes sure you’re comfortable before he chains you back.  

-

After Joel leaves, you and the other girl are both silent for a while.  Then she tries to get through to you, tries to convince you that the two of you can outsmart him together.  When pleading doesn’t work, she tries tough love.  “I get it,” she says. “You think he cares about you. But he doesn’t.  You think he’s faithful to you, just because he owns you.”

“He does care.” 

“Well I don’t see your name on his chest.  And his dick sure didn’t taste faithful today.” 

Any sympathy you had for her evaporates with those words. Even if she’s lying, even if she’s trying to play you.  

“Pathetic,” she scoffs.  “You don’t even want to be free, do you?” 

You’re silent for a minute, then get an idea.  “You’re right, I don’t.  But if you really want to, I can tell you how.”   

You know the guard won’t stay at the door all night.  You know the best time and route to get out of the house. If she gets away, good for her.  If she gets caught by one of Joel’s men, oh well. 

-

Thank you so, so much for reading and engaging! Love you guys. You will have your man to yourself next time.

-

if i've left you off please DM me. You can also follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications and you can follow @toxicrecs for my fic recs

[five-and-dimes]

Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly

Finally get to share my fic for the Spring Exchange! I got assigned @im-not-corrupted, and it's my first time writing a knight au, but I'm really happy with how t turned out, so I hope you like it too! <3

AO3

If you had asked Sir Robert Gadling just a few years ago, he would have told you that he had no plans of settling in any kingdom. Ever since the loss of his dear Eleanor, he had found himself most content in traveling. A sword for hire making his way through the lands, throwing himself into new adventures before inevitably moving on. He escorted nobles and adventurers, he protected priceless treasures, he fought in tournaments for gold and glory, and then he carried on. Each new place brought their own unique experiences and joys, but none so great as to convince him to stay. 

Then he entered the kingdom of the Endless.

He had heard rumors of the turmoil the kingdom had gone through in recent times. One of their main allies and trade partners had been brought low by their king’s death and near fatal wounding of the only prince, leaving the prince’s consort to struggle to hold the land together. The loss of protection and major imports left the Endless kingdom vulnerable, and they fell into a period of famine and darkness. However, a few years later saw one of the princes staging a coup, exiling the king and queen as well as a few other members of the royal family, taking the throne for himself. 

And King Morpheus brought the realm back to prosperity.

Hob found the land intriguing in a way he hadn’t experienced before. The landscape was lush and vibrant, the kingdom built within the forest as opposed to clearing it away, and even the homes of the lower class were adorned with intricate artwork carved into the door and window frames. When he made his way into a boisterous tavern, he was greeted as though he was coming home, not a newcomer. As the ale flowed, he had tried to learn more about the history of the realm, especially the years when the crown had been taken. What he learned was that, for all the drama that a grab for power like that must have been, to those outside the palace, it had all been very quiet.

“Went to bed one night the same as ever. Next day we woke up, and there was an assembly being called,” An older man explained, leaning heavily on the table, “Standing on the balcony like some angel of death, there was King Morpheus, wearing the crown.” He shook his head, lost in the memory of his astonishment, “The King and Queen have so many kids I never could keep track of ‘em. But I coulda sworn that one was dead,” he shrugged, taking another long swig of his ale, “Guess I was wrong.”

Curiosity thoroughly piqued, Hob was more eager than ever to join an upcoming tournament. As always he enjoyed buddying up with the kingdom’s knights, sharing tales of his travels, learning more about the land he was visiting, placing bets and engaging in friendly banter. He was excited to join the festivities, and to get a closer look at the mysterious king.

As he entered the arena, looking up to the stands, he understood why his drinking companion had called the king an angel. King Morpheus was a spot of darkness amongst the colors of the crowd. The royals and advisors sitting beside him wore rich, deep colored fabrics that shone in the sunlight, but the king himself was garbed all in black. His robes flowed around him, draping over his form and concealing his figure. His collar was buttoned up his neck all the way to his chin, and gloves covered his hands where they lay primly in his lap. Long black hair was braided elegantly and made his face look even paler, as though he had never seen the sun before. The gold circlet with ruby accents on his head was the only color Hob could make out on his figure.

He was beautiful. 

Hob was never one to deny his ego, and he always aimed to impress when he competed, but on this day he forgot about the crowd. There was only one person he hoped to impress with each swing of his weapon or shot of his bow. The days of the tournament passed, and he couldn’t help but glance up up up to the King after each success, hoping desperately to be noticed. And his pride clearly paid off, because when the tournament ended, as Hob collected his winnings and made his way towards the feast, he was approached by an elegant figure. Her waistcoat was perfectly tailored and a deep purple which made her dark skin seem to glow. But her poise and demeanor gave away her station far more than the richness of her clothing. Delicate spectacles sat on the bridge of her nose, and her posture was proud and sure, looking down on Hob without seeming to look down on him.

“You performed very admirably, Sir…” she stated, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Robert Gadling,” he bowed in greeting, grinning.

“You are new to these parts, yes?”

“Aye, I am a traveler.”

“Just passing through, then?”

“Unless I am given a reason to stay.”

She gave him a reason.

The King had in fact noticed him, had been pleased by his performance, and was looking to grow the order of knights protecting the castle grounds. Though a few years had passed, he was still new enough to the throne to be vulnerable to attempts to usurp him. And he wanted Hob to join. Hob had no intention of turning down an opportunity to be closer to the dark shadow of a king.

It did not occur to him until much later that he hadn’t even needed to think about it before deciding to settle here, in the Endless Kingdom. He moved onto the castle grounds, and he kneeled before King Morpheus and swore an oath, and the king looked down at him with glittering eyes. Hob felt like a madman for all the things he wanted, but he felt a little less mad when, before the season even had a chance to change, he was selected as the King’s personal guard.

“If I may ask,” Hob could not help but inquire, standing watch as the King worked in his study, “Why me? There must be knights whom you are more familiar with.” He was one of the newest in the order, and yet it was he who stood at the king’s side.

The King barely glanced at him, continuing his elegant penmanship, “I am interested.” 

“In me?” Hob felt his traitorous heart flutter.

Here, King Morpheus did look at him, something sly and mischievous in his eyes, “In your experience.” Slowly and deliberately, he put his quill down, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands in his lap, “Tell me, sir Gadling,” Hob shivered every time he heard his name on those lips, “of your travels. Tell me of your life.”

And, well. Hob would never deny a command from his king. 

Although he would not deny… editing, occasionally. Never lying, of course, he wouldn’t dare. But he saw no harm in skipping the less flattering parts- the years lost to drinking his grief away, the times he tripped over his own feet learning to charge in heavy armor- and only slightly embellishing his victories. Morpheus always listened with rapt attention, as though Hob’s tales were the most interesting things he had ever heard. Perhaps, Hob considered, they were.

“It seems you have always been a capable warrior, Sir Gadling,” Morpheus smiled as he delicately ate his breakfast, Hob leaning against the wall beside him as he finished the most recent recounting of his exploits.

“Had to learn fast,” he grinned, “Some of us have to get roughed up if we want to keep you royals so soft and pretty.”

At first, he thinks he has said something wrong, because Morpheus’ head snaps up to look at him, eyes sharp and calculating. But a moment later, his body softens, like an exhale, and there is a pleased smile on his face, and Hob knows that he has said something right.

“I do not remember that part of your oath,” he says teasingly, “a vow to keep me soft and pretty.”

“It was unspoken,” Hob replies immediately, “Took one look at you and knew a delicate thing like you needed a skilled sword and shield at your side.”

“And it seems I chose well,” he sits up a little straighter, almost preening, “I trust a knight of your strength and… stature,” Hob felt his cheeks warm as Morpheus blatantly looked him up and down, “will have no trouble protecting my integrity.”

“With my life, my lord,” he gives a half bow, and when their eyes meet he is certain that something is there.

It became a regular part of their time together, after that. Time passes with Hob telling his stories, and Morpheus fluttering his eyelashes at what a rough and adventurous life he’s led, and Hob gently teasing about the soft and cushioned life he’s led. The contrast between them was exhilarating, and each time the king leaned into it was a bolt of excitement to Hob’s bloodstream. If Hob had his way, King Morpheus would never have to lift a finger. As he accompanied him through the castle, from his chambers to the throne room to the dining hall and back again, he opened every door for him with a deep bow. He would lift the king’s fork to his lips if allowed. 

Morpheus does not seem to mind. For all that he is known as a stoic and cold king to those outside of the palace, each day Hob sees his little smiles, and the laughter in his eyes as Hob bends over backwards for him. 

On this day, Hob thinks he might be the first knight tasked to pick blackberries for his king. Morpheus sits on a stone bench in the shade of the garden as Hob diligently fills a bowl with the ripe fruit, occasionally glancing back to see Morpheus’ warm, amused smile.

“It would be a shame to stain such finary,” he had claimed, eyes crinkling slightly in restrained mirth, turning to show off the glimmer within the fabric of his clothes.

“Oh of course,” Hob teased in return, “We wouldn’t want our precious king to get his hands dirty.” He bowed, taking the king’s gloved hand to kiss his knuckles. His skin was covered by such fine leather, he could only imagine how butter soft the skin beneath it must be. 

King Morpheus smirked down at him, “You earn your keep well, my knight.”

“Anything to be kept by you,” he winked.

The only response is a silent huff of laughter, but Hob cherishes it all the same. As he stands, he holds a berry out between his fingers, “Perhaps you should test them. Make sure they are up to your standards.”

His eyelashes flutter, a coy smile on his lips as he leans forward, and Hob may have started it but he was unprepared for the feeling of his king’s mouth wrapping around his fingers, plucking the fruit from his hand before pulling back with a soft swipe of his tongue. Hob feels himself shudder as Morpheus hums in pleasure.

“Yes,” he purrs, “delightful.”

“Is that so?” Hob feels his heart beating wildly in his chest, but he feels confident and daring as he leans in closer, “Perhaps I should get a taste myself.” He thinks that no fruit on earth would compare to being able to lick the taste from Morpheus’ lips.

But he will never know if he is right. Before he has a chance, he lays his hand on Morpheus’ waist, only to have his wrist gripped tightly and torn away.

“Do not-” The hissed words are cut off so abruptly that Hob can hear the click of Morpheus’ teeth as his mouth snaps shut. His eyes are steely, stepping back to put himself out of Hob’s reach. It is so far and away from any interaction they have had before that Hob feels as though he has whiplash.

There is a moment's pause where Morpheus seems to be waiting for him to speak, and it is only then that Hob remembers their respective ranks, “I apologize, my liege,” he bows deeply, the formality feeling wrong. This is not who they are to each other. Or so he thought.

He glances up just in time to catch the way Morpheus’ throat bobs as he swallows thickly, “I have been away from my work long enough. Deliver what you have harvested to the kitchens and then rejoin me in my study.” He leaves no room for a response, turning on his heels and stalking away, heedless of the fact that they are not meant to be separated this way. Hob’s job is to watch over him. But, after watching his king’s back disappear back into the castle, he does as he is told.

His thoughts are a storm as he passes the fruit off to the kitchen staff, dragging his feet to delay his return to Morpheus’ side. King Morpheus has always been vocal about fighting tradition- about making a better realm, even if it meant going against the “old ways”- and Hob had, foolishly perhaps, assumed that meant that Morpheus would not be against marrying outside his station.

Apparently he was wrong.

Arriving outside the study door, Hob feels his heart burn. With rejection, yes, and grief, certainly, but also with anger. Anger at the king’s hypocrisy, his arrogance and conceit, to think so lowly of Hob as to toy with his feelings and then snub his touch. As though Hob’s hands would somehow taint his royal figure. 

Well, Hob refused to be ashamed. He was proud of his rank and status, he was proud of his life, and no man or king would make him feel lesser. So when he walked into the room, he held his head high, and kept his eyes cold.

Morpheus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but did not say anything.

The weeks following are tense. At first, Morpheus seemed to try to restart their flirtatious banter, but Hob refused to engage. He was not a toy for the king to play with as he pleased and then shove away when he got too bold. In another kingdom, Hob thinks he might have been executed for the glare he sent the lord’s way. But Morpheus only sighed and looked away, and eventually stopped trying. Their days were now filled with tense silences as they walked together.

Hob is seriously considering leaving Morpheus’ order to continue his travels on the day the assassination attempt happens. He is overseeing a trial between two nobles, something about one of them infringing on the other's land, Hob hadn’t really been paying attention. In hindsight, the two seem more amicable with each other than one would expect for a dispute to reach the point of coming before the king, but at the time Hob had just been grateful that it was a quiet day. 

“My King, I have some evidence that I believe may sway you in my favor,” one of them announced. 

Morpheus, with varying success, did try to keep from being too far above his people. As such, it was not unusual for him to stand and approach the noble when he gestured him forward, presumably to show or explain something to win his case. Hob, as usual, is only a step behind him. It is because of that that he catches the glint of metal in the noble’s hand within his robe.

With a wordless cry, Hob lunges forward, shoving Morpheus roughly to the ground to step in front of him. There is a loud clang as the noble’s dagger connects with Hob’s gauntlet. His eyes are wide at Hob’s speed, and he has no time to react before Hob’s fist makes contact with his nose, blood spraying as he collapses. Around them, the rest of the knights in the room rush into action, restraining both nobles and sweeping the room for any hidden danger. 

With the threat so swiftly taken care of, Hob is free to look down at where the king was sprawled, dark fabric pooling around him as he pushes himself up, dark hair concealing half his face. They look at each other, the adrenalin of the moment still rushing through both of them. 

“Are you alright, my liege?” Hob asks softly, holding a hand out.

Morpheus nods slowly, taking his hand and allowing Hob to pull him to his feet, “I am. Thanks to you.” 

As they stand, hands still clasped for a moment longer than necessary, Hob realizes that he has missed Morpheus. Perhaps he cannot have everything that he wants so desperately. But if this is all he can have, well. At least he can have this. 

“Of course,” he smirks, “I did swear to keep you soft and pretty, remember?” 

He means it as an olive branch, a remembered joke between them to show that they can still be more than simply knight and king, even if they cannot be more. He does not mean to make Morpheus’ eyes fill with tears.

“Yes,” his voice cracks, “Of course.” 

Hob is not given a chance to respond- not that he knows how to respond at all- before the king is turning away, calling for his advisor, Lady Lucienne, the one who had first approached Hob about his position within the court. The two convene quietly for a moment before Morpheus orders the knights present, including Hob, to take the two traitors away to be questioned and search the grounds for any other suspects. 

It feels wrong to leave the king’s side. Hob feels a desperate need to watch over him, to keep him safe and protected, to wipe away the tears that look so perilously close to falling. But he has been given his orders, and the king and lady are already moving to sequester themselves somewhere private to discuss what to do with the situation. So, with one last look back, he goes to fulfill his duty.

Hours later, when the palace is confidently secure and the traitors are under lock and key, Hob feels no less anxious to be at his king’s side. He was told to return to his own quarters, to rest for the night, and he did try at first, setting his armor aside and laying in bed to try to calm the burning in his heart. But there is no rest to be found here, and soon he finds himself walking purposefully through the halls in his casual clothing, a decision he only regrets when he finds himself faced unexpectedly with the king’s advisor.

Lady Lucienne is exiting the room just as he approaches the king’s chambers. Still half in the doorway, she raises an eyebrow at the clearly off-duty knight before her, and Hob freezes, feeling like a child caught stealing sweets.

“Sir Gadling,” she greets cooly, “I did not expect to see you so late. I thought you were resting,” she raised an eyebrow at him pointedly.

“Yes, m’lady,” he bows his head, but tries to continue awkwardly, “I simply could not rest, and wished to check to ensure the king was well after the attack today.”

“He is well,” she answers shortly, “so you may-“

“Lucienne,” a deep voice calls out from within the room, “he may enter.”

Frowning, Lucienne gives Hob a quick narrow-eyed look before re-entering the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the knight alone in the hallway. He waits awkwardly as a hushed conversation happens behind the door. Finally, Lucienne emerges once more, still eying him warily, but opening the door wider to allow him entry into the king’s chamber. As he enters, he is surprised when she exits, closing the door again to leave him alone in the room with Morpheus.

The room is grand, as expected for a king, and Morpheus sits primly on the edge of the large, ornate bed in the center. He is no longer wearing the extravagant, heavy garb that he dons in public. His current night robe, while as dark and elegant as all of his attire, is also thinner and more lightweight. It is also… revealing. The silky fabric contrasts sharply with his pale, nearly white skin, and for the first time, Hob is granted the sight of his king’s forearms, his neck, the jut of his collar bones, his calves. And with it, he is granted the sight of countless scars. 

Dark, rough scar tissue circles both his wrists like bracelets, a matching ring around his neck. There are some marks that Hob recognizes as blade wounds, and others that he thinks might be burns. They criss-cross over each other and dip below his robe, suggesting that what he is seeing is only a fraction of what exists. All of the marks look old. It does not make them look any less painful. 

Hob feels his mouth open, the breath rushing out of him as though he has been struck. He can tell, he knows, that the scars are old enough to have been made long before Hob ever met Morpheus. Still, he feels a strange sense of failure. As though it is his fault for not meeting Morpheus in time to protect him.

When he finally raises his gaze, he finds Morpheus looking at him, patiently waiting for Hob to finish his inspection. Hob opens his mouth, but cannot find any words that might soften whatever is happening right now.

Finally, Morpheus speaks, “Once, I was a prince. And now, I am a king.” His voice holds the gravity of an execution, and the sorrow of bowing his own neck beneath the blade, “But there was a time, in between, when I was neither.”

Hob takes another shaking step into the room. There is something dreamlike in the situation, an anticipation, a feeling of falling. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Morpheus turns his eyes forward to stare at one of the large landscape paintings he’d commissioned from a local artist, “I was sixteen when I was taken,” he states plainly, as though his words don’t gut Hob to the core, “It was… easy. For them to steal me away. Far too easy, even for an unloved spare like myself. As if it had been allowed.” He pauses, but keeps his face carefully smooth and neutral, “I still do not know for certain. Whether I was stolen or given away.” His next words are spoken more to himself than to Hob, “Perhaps it does not matter.”

Everything in Hob wants to move closer, to hold his king and shield him with his body, as though the past was an arrow aimed for his heart that Hob could stand in the way of. And yet, he feels frozen. Feet rooted to the ground by a pain so great even his strong and stoic king cannot keep it from his voice.

“When my blindfold was removed, I found myself brought before King Burgess.”

And now, Hob gasps, a too-loud inhale in the heavy tension of the room. Morpheus looks at him, his body stiff and his face still carefully empty.

Hob feels like he can’t breathe, “How…” his voice cracks desperately, “How long were you there?” He might be making a mistake by asking, by speaking at all during this tale, but he has to know. He has to.

“I was kept as a secret treasure for ten years,” Morpheus reveals bluntly. “I escaped my imprisonment roughly six years ago.”

The timeline stretches before Hob’s eyes, and he wants to weep.

“I was there,” Hob exhales in horror. Morpheus’ blinks, eyes blank and not understanding. “I… Ten years ago, I…” his throat feels like it is closing, but he forces the words out, “Burgess’ kingdom was one of the first I traveled to after I lost Eleanor. I was raised in the land neighboring it. I was there for nearly a year, drinking and fighting and participating in tournaments to distract myself from grief. I was offered a place in his court but I. Declined.” He takes half a step back, and then a full step forward when he sees the way the motion makes his king’s face fall. “I was right there,” he whispers.

“I doubt you could have done much,” Morpheus replied, turning his face to look at the wall again, “I was not flaunted before his people, or even the rest of his court. Only a select few knew of my presence beneath his castle. He…” his voice trailed off, and his eyes glimmered as tears began to well. But he stubbornly blinked them back, “It does not matter,” he says again, even softer. 

Hob wants to scream that it does matter, of course it matters. But his king looks so wounded right now, and it has nothing to do with the scars. So for now he waits, and lets Morpheus tell him no more than what he is ready to share.

“Eventually,” he continues, his voice steady once more, “the prince’s consort grew pitying. I am sure when he released me he expected me to simply run. But I had more than earned my right to vengeance.” His hands clenched into fists in his lap, “Burgess was almost too easy. He had grown old and careless. He was not so powerful as he thought himself when I was in chains. I spared his son the killing blow only out of gratitude to his consort.”

The stories of the fall of the Burgess Kingdom make much more sense now, with this information, and even the decline of the Endless kingdom who had for so long been allies with them. 

“It took me some time to return to my home kingdom. I was weak, and needed to heal and regain my strength. I also gathered allies. Lady Lucienne, Sir Matthew, among others. My family was not expecting my return, and so it was easy to claim the throne for myself. My parents I exiled, along with their supporters. My siblings I allowed the freedom to do as they wished. And what they wished was to leave.” 

A few of the king’s siblings had visited in Hob’s time at his side, but never for long. Hob ached at the pain he saw now. The pain of being abandoned so quickly after his return.

“And a few years later…” Morpheus’ gaze was heavy as he looked at Hob once more, “a traveling knight competed in a tournament, and caught my eye.”

Hob still remembers that day so vividly, the dark shadow of the king, the way he was too far for Hob to see his eyes and yet he fantasized about them looking at him. His heart swells in his chest to know that they were. And now he is here, stepping towards his king, his friend, the man he has stood beside for nearly two years now, and he cannot help but ask, “Why did you not tell me this before?”

When Morpheus sighs, it is heavy, and Hob thinks that a lesser man would have crumpled under the weight of the despair in that single breath.

“The parts of me that appeal to you…” he explains slowly, “being… soft. And pretty, and delicate, and pure…” he keeps his head high and shoulders back and it does not make him look any less ashamed, “they are all a fantasy. The reality is that I have long been. Damaged. And sullied.” Almost unconsciously, he brought one hand up to clutch at his robe, holding it closed just a little tighter, “Perhaps it was cruel of me to deceive you in such a way, but our games… brought me comfort. I could pretend, even if just for the briefest times, that it was true. That I was someone you could want.”

Eyes fluttering closed, he sighed, “I thought. If I could have nothing else. I could at least have that.”

His voice is so even, despite how soft it has grown, barely audible in the expansive room. He speaks as though reciting history- something that has already passed and cannot be altered. A tragedy that cannot be changed.

When Hob moves towards him, it is barely conscious. It is like floating down a river, like gravity, a force of nature that perhaps he could fight against if he wanted to. But he does not want to. And so he moves to his king and he kneels, and he did not know it was possible, but it feels even more right now than it has every time he has kneeled before. Morpheus looks at him, the slightest furrow in his brow, confused, surprised, strangely lost. Hob takes his hand, as he has countless times before, and for the first time feels the rough calluses on his fingers. He kisses his knuckles, and his lips brush his bare skin for the very first time. Morpheus gasps, silent, and Hob would have missed it had his eyes not been fixed on his king’s face. 

And then he continues. He brings his lips to the ring of scar tissue around his bony wrist, kissing first the outside, then the inside, leaning forward to continue kissing up his arm. There is a part of him that is appalled at his daring- this is his king, he has no right to take such liberties. But there is a much larger part that is desperate to prove him wrong. He has sworn an oath to protect this man. In this moment, he wants to protect him from his own expectations. 

And so he pushes himself up, still holding Morpheus’ hand as his lips trail over the landscape of texture across his skin. He kisses over the fabric of his robe, not pushing it aside, not asking Morpheus to reveal any more than he already has. He stands until he is, like blasphemy, looming over his king, leaning down to kiss along the rope of scarring along his neck. He feels, more than hears, the way Morpheus gasps as his lips caress his skin.

“No game could compare to the reality of you,” Hob breathes against his skin, letting his tongue lightly trace the texture of him, “You do not need to pretend that you are wanted.” Leaning back, he finds his king staring at him with wide, watery eyes, and Hob allows himself a moment to sweep his gaze down his figure in appreciation, “Look at you,” he whispers, “Look at how much you’ve survived.”

He brings his free hand up to cup Morpheus’ cheek, and his king still looks disbelieving, and so what can he do but lean in and kiss him. When their lips meet, it feels like the inevitability of dawn after a long dark night, like everything was meant to lead them here. They move their lips together slowly, softly, until the taste of salt blooms between them. Hob pulls back, and Morpheus drifts after him, tears streaming down his face. And for all that he has been through, he looks at Hob as though this, this love and wanting, is what will finally undo him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hob kisses the tears from his cheeks, even as Morpheus shakes his head.

“I am not.” 

Hob tuts softly, “You are.” 

Feeling emboldened by his love, by a love he now understands is returned, he pushes gently at Morpheus’ shoulder, guiding him down to lay on the soft, rich fabric of his bed. Morpheus’ eyes are wide when he moves to straddle him, but he does not push him away. His hands hover over his hips hesitantly, and that is the moment Hob stops worrying about this being his king. Right now, this is just Morpheus, who has been torn apart, and pieced himself back together, and pushed Hob away because he was so certain he would not be wanted as he is. And Hob wants him, and so there is nothing more important than leaning down to kiss every inch of exposed skin.

“You are so strong,” Hob whispers, pressing his lips to the rough skin of his neck again, “but you have protected yourself for long enough. Let me, now.”

“Hob,” Morpheus’ voice is breathless, his hands finally come to clutch at his tunic, “I…”

“I have sworn an oath to you, my king,” he kisses the burns along his collar bones, “And I would swear another to you, my friend,” he kisses the raised scars on his chest, “and yet another for you, my love.” 

Slowly he kisses down to his stomach, where he feels Morpheus tense and shudder even through his robe. Morpheus is breathing heavily beneath him, gasps and sobs and moans as Hob touches him all over. He tugs at Hob’s tunic and Hob obliges, tugging it over his head and reveling in the way Morpheus stares up at him, his tears slowing and his throat bobbing as he swallows at the sight of Hob’s muscled chest, his body hair broken up by ropes of scars from his years of knighthood.

Hob takes Morpheus’ hand, calluses caressing calluses, and leans down to settle his weight on top of him. He pressed their chests together, pale and scarred against tan and scarred. “See?” Hob whispered against his ear, “We match.”

Morpheus’ breath hitches, and his hand clings tighter to Hob’s. He does not let go for the rest of the night, even after they have finished their gentle rutting and have both stained the insides of their clothes. He allows Hob to use his own shirt to clean them both, and to wipe his tears away, and to curl around him beneath the covers, but he does not let go. 

In the dark, Hob kisses each of his fingers, “Would that I could protect you from the things that have already happened,” he whispers, “But I swear to you, my beautiful Morpheus, that no new scars shall adorn your skin while I am here to prevent it.” 

He feels fresh tears fall against his skin, and he knows it will take time for Morpheus to truly believe his words. Hob will slowly reveal the parts of his past that he had edited out, and Morpheus will do the same, and eventually they will lay together with no fabric between them, and Morpheus will still cry at the kindness and the love and the want in Hob’s eyes, and that will be okay. For now, they sleep in the safety of each other's arms.

And in the morning, Hob will help Morpheus dress, kissing up his body as he buttons his robe until he is once more fully covered, kissing his lips as he fastens the last button.

[hyukalyptus]

happy birthday — bestfriend!taehyun x virgin!reader | taehyun (kinda) giving reader her first orgasm. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. joi (f. receiving), nipple play, use of sex toys, reader is a virgin and has never had an orgasm, masturbation, fingering, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, baby), fem/afab reader. notes. i'm reposting works from my old account. this one had a cult following and part ii is coming for kinktober!!! smut under cut. wc. 1.6K

“Don’t look at me like that…it’s not that big of a deal.” 

“No, I know it’s not,” Taehyun says. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you being a virgin—there’s nothing wrong with you never experiencing an orgasm before either. That’s not why he was looking at you like this. 

He’s looking at you like this because suddenly, you’re this untouched, innocent, beautiful woman sitting in front of him. And the image of you…fucked out like you’ve never been before, hair all messy, squeaking and squealing, hips grinding against anything would not leave his mind. 

The thought of it—you—plagued his mind over the next few days. He never thought of you this way. You’re his best friend. His best friend that fell in love with strangers at the ice cream store, that was talking to a new guy every time he saw you, that was always so scantily clad. That’s why this was all so unexpected. 

Being a virgin isn’t surprising…but you’ve never even touched yourself? 

Your birthday rolled around and you were still in your life-long dry spell, too nervous to ever take that step with someone else, too nervous to see what all the fuss was about. It can't be that good, can it? After all your festivities died down, Taehyun was still with you at your apartment.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get me a present,” you pout, laying your head on the couch cushion. 

“No, I did,” he says matter-of-factly. “I just wanted to wait until everyone else was gone.”

“Wha—why?” Your head bolts up, attention piqued as he reaches into his coat pocket for a small wrapped box. “Okay…uhm, thanks?” You chuckle awkwardly, starting to unwrap the shiny paper. “But you coulda just—” and there it is. A box with sparks and firetruck-red words, complete with a plastic window revealing a small, red clit vibrator. “Uh…Tae?” Your ears turn as red as the box itself. “I think you meant to give this to someone else?”

“No, no. That’s for you.” You’re in absolute shock. “I just…couldn’t stop thinking about what you told me, which,” he takes a deep breath. “I just felt, like, that was something you really trusted me with…you know, telling me. So,” he says, taking your hand. “I wanted to see if you’d let me make you cum for the first time?”

“You’re joking,” you snort, but he is obviously very serious about this. Big eyes staring at you sternly, eyebrows just barely stitched together, lips pursed. 

“Just let me help you through it the first time? Might make you a little less nervous.”

Oh, how did you end up here? Naked, laying on your back in your bed, Taehyun sitting criss-cross applesauce on the mattress next to you, reading over the user manual of this sex toy. He’d already read them and got a tutorial on how to use it in the store, but he wanted to double check everything. 

“So, go ahead and press and hold—”

“Wait, Tae?” He hums in question. “Um…do you think we could warm up to the sex toy?”

“What, you wanna, like, kiss…?”

“No, just…” you sigh. “Just tell me what to do.” Everything in him shifts. 

“Oh, okay,” he chuckles, wrapping his brain around every little thing he wants to do to you, but this…this is about you. “Squeeze your tit for me.” Slowly trailing your hand up your side, you rest your hand over it at first, the nerves getting the best of you. “Squeeze it for me, okay?” He says. “That’s it…that’s a good girl. You listen so well, hm?” It’s taking everything in him to not take over and fuck you right there, but he wants you to make yourself cum for the first time. 

See, that was the plan the entire time. He wanted to give you the courage and ability to fuck yourself. And that just makes you positively giddy. 

“Lick your fingers…rub them over your nipple.” You follow his instructions. “Try the other…which one feels better?”

“Uh…” you stutter, breathless words on the tip of your tongue. “The right.”

“Rub the right one for a while,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Close your eyes and take some time to just feel it…tell me how you feel.”

“It feels,” you start, “kinda weird.” Chuckling, you open your eyes to shyly look over at him. But you quickly shut your eyes again, because even though it feels weird…it still feels good. 

“That’s okay. How else does it feel?”

“Feels like…there’s waves washing over me,” you say, chest heaving. “Little waves.” And suddenly—you feel it. You’re wet. You’d been wet before, but this time, it was different. You’d done it to yourself. “Woah,” you gasp, rolling your hips. 

“That’s it…just like that, baby—oh, can I call you that?”

“Please,” you groan, throwing your head back. You found your hand traveling toward your clit. 

“Don’t touch yourself yet. Just keep rubbing that pretty nipple of yours, okay?” You nod, but this is torture. You’ve never felt this before and he’s making you hold back? What a jerk. “Now, I want you to cup your pussy. Just put your hand over it and let your hand rest there for a bit.”

You laugh out loud, “What’s that gonna do?”

“Just do it.” 

You shrug, following his instructions that you disagree with, but hey—maybe he knows something you don’t. Your hips keep up a little rhythm while your hand rests there, just teasing yourself. He was right. That son-of-a-bitch was right. It’s a teasing technique and it works. 

You let out this embarrassing whine and he says, “Told you.” You roll your eyes before— “Rub your nipple again.” 

All you can think is—”When am I gonna be able to use my present?”

“Soon, I promise,” he says. “Take your fingers and feel how wet you are.”

You do as you’re told and your mouth drops open. You’re absolutely, positively soaking. “Oh my god…” you whisper, a cocky smirk appearing on his face. 

“Rub your clit…just barely.” And you do exactly that—just barely touching yourself, which you’ve never done. So this is a big moment for you. And for a moment, you’re simply proud of yourself. You can’t pinpoint why you were so nervous to do this, but you must admit, it does feel right having him here for this. 

“Now, take your toy,” you’re eager—almost too eager. “Flip it on to the lowest setting.” 

“How is this supposed to touch my clit? Won’t it hurt?” It felt a bit too strong for you, but—

“No, it’ll feel good, I promise.” He broke his one rule—his palm graced your hip, but he stops himself before he could touch you too much. “Rub your lips a bit…” you’re so, so, so eager to let me touch my clit, please. “Do you even know where your clit is?”

And it hits you. No, you don’t. 

He chuckles, “So cute. Why don’t you try and find it for me, baby?” You start moving the tip of the vibrator around yourself, nothing truly hitting the spot. It feels…fine, but not great. You’re simply testing the waters. A little poke here—no, a little poke there—nope. That is until—

“Oh…oh…oh, holy fuck.” You throw your head back, back arching, letting out the sexiest moan anyone has ever heard before. 

“Find it?” You’re already gasping for air, gripping the sheets with your free hand. “No, rub your nipple with your other hand.” You nod lazily, reaching up for yourself and it’s honestly starting to get a bit too much. “Turn it up.” You click it again, and your hips start to shake. 

Something’s building in your stomach. You don’t know what, you’ve never felt like this before, but something’s about to happen. “I think…I think I’m gonna—”

“Stop,” he says sternly and you stop, taking the toy off your clit, thinking something’s wrong. 

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just wanna build it up a bit,” he says. You giggle, laying your head back down and starting completely over. All the way to rubbing your nipples, cupping your pussy, starting off at the lowest setting of the vibrator while he whispers dirty things to you. 

Don’t you dare cum until I tell you to.

You’re not gonna cum that quickly, baby. You’ve got yourself your first sex toy and think you know everything now, hm?

Your first is gonna feel so fucking good…you’re so lucky you get to experience your first orgasm like this. 

It’s been an hour. An hour. You’ve been teasing yourself for an hour. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, your skin is hot, your hips have a mind of their own. The only thing you know to do anymore is beg. Just “Please, Tae…please, please, please let me cum.” 

You’ve brought yourself to the edge again—for the sixth time that evening—and you fully expect him to tell you to stop, but when you tell him you’re close, he says, “That’s a good girl. Go ahead. You’ve been such a good girl for me.”

“I can cum?” You almost don’t believe it. You almost cry tears of joy. He hums and you finally let yourself go. Your body feels like…nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s a euphoric bliss that has your legs trembling, hips stuttering, mouth whimpering. Everything just feels so good. 

And he praises you through every last second of it. “That’s my pretty girl, cumming so good for me,” he moans. “Just feel so good for me, please. That’s it. Just like that.”

You think you may have blacked out a bit, you’re not sure, but once you’ve recovered enough, you open your eyes to be met by his big, brown ones. “Oh, hey, Tae.”

“Hey, cutie,” he smiles. “Did that feel good?”

You’re laying on your side, still fully catching your breath, arm over your eyes in disbelief, legs flinching every once in a while. “Yeah, that felt…wow…thank you.”

“No worries,” he smiles. “Happy birthday.”

[indecenthoney]

Take a Joke

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You can find my other stories here!

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“And for the 5th time… I have things to do… The outside seems nice and all… but I just need to get these things done… The deadline is coming up and if I don’t finish… They’ll be on my ass for not finishing my part…”

“But you promised…”

“I know… I know… But I won’t be able to enjoy myself… If I’m stressing out this much… Listen… You can hang out all you want in my house… but I’ll be by my desk doing my work… Alright? And when I’m done we can do something together… Okay?”

“Fine… God you’re such a workaholic… Hehehe… You know… if you’re so stressed out… I could always… give you some head… You know? Release some tension… Just pop it into my mouth a little and you’ll be melting… Please daddy please~” 

“I- Y-you… Shut the fuck up… I don’t need head… What I need is to get this done…”

“Mm… You sure? Kinda stuttered there for a bit… You don’t wanna slap it on my tongue? Not even a little?”

“Again… Shut up… Go make yourself comfy and wait for me…”

“Fineeeee… You’re no fun!”

With every brooding individual, there stands a person who exudes sunlight and happiness. After all, opposites attract do they not? Well, my friend is a bit more open when it comes to physical contact. Or flirting for that matter. Not that they mean any of it. We’re just two friends that happen to hang out a lot. And with that comfortability, they simply love getting a rise out of me. You have to understand. It just kind of throws you off when you’re constantly asked to cum in their mouth. Like the image wouldn’t plague your mind. And now I’m just sitting here at my desk thinking about how badly I want to feel their lips around my cock. The unruly pressure in my pants obstructing my thoughts. Can you see what I’m going through? I couldn’t help but watch them from the corner of my eye. Laid flat on the bed, messing around with their phone. Her skirt slowly riding up her pretty legs-

“You knowwwww… You’ve been sitting there for a while, bud… Hahah… We’re never going to hang out if you keep staring at me like that… You sure you don’t wanna fuck me and get it over with? C’mon, just the tip? Pretty please? Push the panties to the side and rail me into the mattress… Hahahaaha… The look on your face… You wanna fuck me so bad… It makes you look stupid…” 

This little cock tease has been going at it since forever.  I am the sole victim of her little jokes. I know we’re friends and she’s comfortable with me. But I’m just a man. I can only take so many “invites” until I do something about it. It’s a joke. I know it’s a joke. But I think it’s about time I gave her a taste of her own medicine. You know? Scare her a little. What if the poor thing ran into someone who wasn’t so reserved? 

“Yeah? And? You keep offering… Honestly… I’m starting to think you actually want me to touch you… It’s pretty pathetic… If you wanted me so badly… You coulda been honest…” 

“W-what? No-... I-... U-uhm… I was just… Hahaha… Uhhh… Y-you’re really close… Could you- H-hey… Y-your hands are cold… What’re you… F-fuck… N-not my… Mmmph…” 

Taking my place up beside her, I pulled her over my lap raising her ass into the air. My hands gently caressing the fine shape of it all. Her legs kicking and flailing in protest. In response, my thumb pressing down deep into her causing her to wince at the pain. Physically teaching her that any sort of rebellion would be met with consequence. Soon settling down, allowing me to do whatever I please.

“O-ow… That hurts…”

“Then stop moving around so much… Why are you so surprised? You were talking a lot of shit earlier… Don’t tell me you're backing out now? What? All bark? No bite? I was getting really sick of your little jokes… Now look at you… Hahahha”

“S-stop… I-it’s not funny… Get your hand out of my… Aaa- I-I’m serious… You can’t rub me t-there… Fu- Mmph…”

“I can’t? Hahaha… What’re you talking about? Yes, I can… Watch me… Fuck… God you’re wet… For what? Damnnnnn… Someone needed this…  If you were just honest… I would’ve helped you out, you know? What’s wrong? Don’t you wanna feel good? Wasn’t this your plan? To get me all riled up… I think it’d be rude to stop when you’re enjoying it this much… C’mon…  Just the tip… Lemme slide my fingers in… Pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

Holding her ass down, I firmly pressed my thumb along her leaky slit, tracing downward onto her. Jolts of pleasure surface as her back arches against my fingers. Subtle moans aim to resound, yet her face burrowed deep into my pillow. I watch as she bites down, preventing any more from escaping. A futile attempt as the tension in her jaw is reduced to a gaping, slobbering mess. The pillow now soaked in her saliva. With her panties pushed to the side, my fingers tease the opening causing her to drip even further. Leading me to believe that she needed more than just a slight rubbing. Slowly, I slithered my way into her. Wriggling about in the tight heat. The constant throb of her cunt, pulsing, as she wrapped around my finger. As if the embarrassment wasn’t enough, her juices gradually coated my hand and down my arm. The sweet, sweet sight of weakness. Turning the tables on her little game. I wanted to see more. I wanted to bully her. More. Pulling back from the slick wetness of her pussy. I navigated myself around more uncharted waters. Gently I ran my hand around the opening of her ass. Inching myself into her-

“I said stop it! I hate you!”

“O-ow… Fuck… Dude? H-hey… Wait… I- I’m sorry… I was just… playing around… I thought I was playing around… Shit…”

After my sudden gesture, she slapped me across the face, quickly storming out of the room. Her face flushed with anger as if shades of red were splattered across a canvas. I was surprised to see this side of her. The jovial little entity now seething with rage. A joke that went too far. And chasing her down would only aggravate the situation. I thought that leaving her be for a few hours would be the best choice, so that I may get on with my work. However, working at my desk wasn’t all that productive as she lingered in my mind. Just as I mentioned before, there was no point in enjoying myself if I was so stressed. Yet, the opposite could also be said. I couldn’t quite get anything done knowing my friend wasn’t feeling her best. I felt horrible. So I rung her up, but that proved to be no help seeing as she left her phone on my bed. With no way of contacting her, I rushed out attempting to catch up. Before even reaching the steps, I heard a faint voice echoing from one of the spare rooms. Peeking into it, I found her quietly pleasuring herself. The frustration in her voice as she rubbed. Eager fingers that tried so desperately to alleviate the ache between her legs. I was to blame for the erratic motion of circles to the sensually slow piercing of parting flesh. There she sat flooding, barely keeping herself together. A slave to her own desire. Entranced by her fervor, I made the greedy mistake of getting a better look. Nudging the door in the process. The silence of the situation made it as if the door was screeching open like a banshee. There I stood awkwardly. 

“H-huh? What the fuck! Dude! Were you watching this entire time?!? Y-you’re sick!”

“N-no… Okay… Maybe… a little bit… But before you go off… I was just worried… How was I supposed to know where you ran off to? You left your phone on the bed so I kinda rushed out to find you… And is it really my fault you left the door open while doing this? I mean… how else was I supposed to get your attention? Knock?” 

“Yes!”

“Oh… My bad… Hahaha… Either way, it woulda been awkward… But now that I have your attention! I just… I’m… sorry… I-I guess I took the joke too far and… did something I shouldn’t have…”

“You guess? Well then… I guess… you just have a bad taste in jokes…” 

“Huh?!? Excuse me? Listen here brat! You’re no better! Says the person that CONSTANTLY throws themselves at me… You say I have a bad taste in jokes… But do you even hear yourself sometimes? I was joking earlier about you wanting something like this to happen… But you need this, don’t you? That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you're touching yourself in this quiet little room… Waiting to get caught…”

“No-”

“Oh? You know what… lift your skirt… You didn’t get to finish, right? What kind of host would I be if I left you here hopelessly fucking yourself?”

“W-wuh? I-I… I don’t wanna…”

“Lift… your… skirt… And I’m not going to say this again… You can either listen to me… or you can sit there and take it… Even if you beg and cry and cum your brains out… I simply will not… fucking… care… Now spread them…” 

A hint of hesitance, yet fear taking over. Curiosity pushing the boundaries, but pleasure numbing the senses. The idle gaze that longed for release, anticipated a brief moment, only to feel eternity. The look on her face gave it all away. She sat there waiting and waiting. Her patience wearing thin to the point her hips buck against my fingertips. In my sadistic nature, I retreat elongating this personal hell. Our faces now close in proximity, witnessing every whimper and whine that pleads for my touch. Tugging at my shirt, urging me not to wait a second longer. The greedy little brat that believes she deserves such solace. However, who am I to deprive her of such desire? Humbling hands that ran quick from tip to knuckle. Leaving but pools of proof. 

“You poor thing… Hahaha… And here you said you didn’t need this…”

“Mmmph- Y-you didn’t g-give me much of a ch-choice…”

“Right right… But does that really explain how much you’re leaking right now? Gripping at my shirt for dear life… Hahaha… How cute…”

“F-fuck you…”

“Ahahahahah… Wow… You know… you should reallyyyyy watch your fucking mouth… Especially when someone’s knuckle deep inside you… They might get angry, you know?” 

“Mmpph… S-stop… I-it hurts… F-fuck… Please please please… I-I’m s-sorry… I’m s-sorry… You’re being t-too rough… I’m going to c-cum… if you keep… Aaa-... d-doing that…” 

“Oh hun… I think you got me confused with someone that actually gives a fuck…”

“I h-hate y-you… Aaa-”

“Woah there… Let’s not say anything we don’t mean… You LOVE me! You wouldn’t be looking at me like that if you hated me so much… You wanna be mad but your eyes keep rolling back… Hahahah… Subby puppy… Hm… I’m sensing a lotta tension… Oh! I know what’ll make you feel better! Why don’t you tell me one of your little jokes? C’mon… Aren’t you going to ask me to stick it in? Hm? Put a baby in you or something? No? Hahahha… Jeez… Put up a fight, bestie… A couple of fingers in and suddenly your attitude’s gone… No wonder why you’re so quiet…”

“C-cumm-ing… Mmphh…”

“Awww…. Already? Couple minutes in… That’s kinda embarrassing… Poor baby… Yeah? Yeah? Is someone gonna cum? Mmmm… That’s it, sweetie… There’s no need to be shy… Buck those pretty little hips all you want… Just fucking cum already… Let go… Cum for bestie… Hahaha… Ohhh fuckkkk… Goood girl…”

“Aaa- F-fuck fuck fuck…”

“Shit… Hahahah.. I didn’t take you for a squirter… Well, aren’t you full of surprises… I guess you could say we didn’t see that “cumming”... Hahahah… Get it? Ugh… You’re no fun… Hey hey… Don’t go limp on me now… I’m not done with you… ”

“Mmmm… N-no more… P-please… I-I c-can’t… T-too s-sensitive…”

“You can’t be serious… All this teasing… Just for one teeny tiny orgasm… You’re funny! No no no… I’m here to make sure you get your fill… You said it yourself… You’ve been dying to hang out with me, no? Now you’re pushing me away… C’mon, bestie… What’s one more orgasm? Hm?” 

“W-wait wait… Haha… U-uh… Right right… y-you’re work… work… y-you need to g-get it done… I-I really shouldn’t keep you from your work…”

“Fuckkkk, you’re right… How could I forget? You’re so smart, hun… What would I do without you? However, that would be a problem if they didn’t already extend the deadline… Management has a way of setting impossible dates and extending them right after… Always trying to keep us on our toes… Make us work harder… But those idiots never learn… Though I guess we can thank them… A longer deadline means more time… And more time means you have my FULL attention…”

“N-no-”

“Yes! Now that you’ve run out of excuses… Why don’t you be a good girl and sit on my lap? Yeah? Or do you want to fight about it?”

Docile. No words or fits of protest. Just timid hands that reached across shaky hips. Freeing herself from her skirt. With hips, laid bare, she found herself atop me, pressing against my member. Her teary eyes solely fixed on my lap; resisting the unsavory urge to twitch and grind. Nerves shocked to a standstill. Yet softness clears way from worry. My hands brush along her cheek, tracing down her collarbone, and finally feeling up the suppleness of her chest. In turn, her breaths begin to calm and her heart settled. And with this, back into motion as I cradle her hips. Back and forth. Forward and back. Slowly getting used to the hypnotic rut. Her palms placed evenly among my frame giving her the balance to move from her languid state to a more feverish need. The growing confidence to get off on her own terms. The audacity after all her reluctance. My thumb now applying pressure, rubbing gentle circles to remind her of her place. Truly the calm before the storm. Her movements stutter and jerk at an unrelenting tempo causing her to finish quickly, once again in an unsightly manner. The incoherent pleas that begged for mercy overshadowed by the gentle coo of my voice cheering her on. The brainless mess that filled my lap, losing composure with each release. Watching every single orgasm come to pass. Forced to sit and repeatedly cum for my sick enjoyment.

“Oooh fuck… Look at you all blissed out… Did we finally get it out of our system? Hm? Do we need another? No? You sure? Alright... Finally got what you wanted… Yeah? Hahahah… What do we say when the nice man makes you cum?”

“T-th-ank you… S-sir….”

“Well, aren’t you fucking perfect? That’s a good girl… Mhm… It’s okay… You can relax now… I got you… Hush hush… No more… I promise… You’re all cummed out… Such a good job, hun…”

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Yours truly,

GM

[ssukidesu]

what friends do

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Nalu Week 2024 - ( @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive )

Summary: Lucy gets a little too happy and does something (maybe not) regrettable.

Chapter 7: what friends don’t do (yearning)

Read on AO3

Read below the cut

She pulled the bread slices out of the oven and finished throwing together the salad—not that she thought he’d eat any of it.

He was busy setting her small dining table with silverware and napkins. A moment later, they were seated and digging in.

“That really was a good move,” he was saying between bites. “It woulda worked if you found a way to pin at least one of my arms. We can work on that next time.”

Lucy slathered some butter on a piece of bread. “Yeah,” she muttered mournfully. “I’ve been planning that one for a while. You kept getting me with those low sweeps—I wanted to try something that took advantage of that.”

“Not a bad strategy,” he hummed. “If you had your whip, you coulda used it. So at least in a real fight with a real bad guy, you could pull it off.”

Lucy pouted. “You can be a real bad guy when we spar.”

“What?” he cried. “I’m a perfect gentleman.”

“Really?” she drawled. “What about that time you—”

“That doesn’t count,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

They both were referring (or refusing to refer) to the time that Natsu had very indecently (and, he insisted, accidentally) groped her ass while trying to force her to release him from a quite complicated hold.

I didn’t know what I was grabbing! he’d sworn. You’d twisted us into a pretzel!

“Yeah, whatever,” she acquiesced. “Anyways… don’t you think I’m getting better?”

“Loads!” he said cheerfully, swallowing his last bite of fish before licking his fingers. “I don’t know if today counts as a real victory… but you’re getting stronger every time.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, but she appreciated his honesty. He was leaning back in his chair lazily, watching her finish her plate. She felt a little self-conscious—she was wearing her typical t-shirt and pajama shorts, but his eyes seemed to be roaming a little more than normal. At first she wondered if she’d gotten food on her shirt—but upon looking down, nothing seemed out of place.

She stood and gathered their empty plates. She brought them to the sink and turned on the hot water, figuring she’d go ahead and clean them. When the water was warm enough, she doused the sponge with soap and began to scrub.

Is he just gonna watch me do this? she thought after a minute. I wish he’d do something useful, like take out the garbage…

She heard him stand with a grunt, and his bare feet padded quietly on the hardwood as he approached to stand behind her. While she rinsed the plates, she inspected his hazy reflection in the window above the sink: he was looking down at her with drooping eyes and a lazy smile. When his hands came to brace themselves on the bar on either side of her, her attention went from his reflection to the veins on his forearms, the calluses on his fingertips. His breath surprised her when it brushed her ear—but what surprised her more was when he continued to angle his head until his mouth hovered above her cheekbone. His lips brushed her skin lightly, as if testing for something, and then pressed firmly there.

“For the food,” he muttered.

When he didn’t release her from the trap of his arms, she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes from over her shoulder. His were piercing, watchful. His face was slightly red, but not anxiously so.

She swallowed. “I was happy to do it.”

His eyes flicked downward. “Yeah?”

Wrong thing to say, she thought in half panic. But upon second thought, she realized it might have actually been the perfect thing to say. She thought she’d say something else.

“Movie?” she asked, her voice cracking just enough to make her blush even harder.

His lips perked into an easy grin. “Sure.”

She cleared her throat. He released her.

As she changed into pajamas, she willed her heart to slow down and utterly failed. When she returned to the living room, she saw he had found a bag of popcorn and was pouring some into a large bowl. He never used the microwave; he was too impatient, and his magic was perfect for the job.

They settled on the couch, and he handed her the remote. “You pick,” he said, draping his arm over the couch back. She had her legs flung over his; it was a nice way to stay close without being so close that she couldn’t think.

“Really? Anything I want?” she teased, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn, which was wedged between his calves.

He curled his lip. “Nothing mushy.”

She giggled. “Thought so.”

Lucy shuffled through the different options that were available and settled on an action flick she’d seen once before. There was a romantic subplot, but she figured there were enough explosions to make up for it.

Thirty seconds in, they both sat up to grab more popcorn, meeting in the middle. Though they had both filled their hands, neither reclined again, favoring instead to remain near over the bowl.

Lucy watched him shove the entire bundle into his mouth in one go. As he licked his buttery fingers, she felt her stomach flip in recollection of his lips on her face mere minutes ago.

She brought a piece of popcorn to her mouth and placed it on her tongue behind her teeth. “Thanks for letting me pick,” she tested.

He fished out another handful, smirking sourly. “You did make dinner, after all.”

Her fingers twitched in her lap as she watched him stare at her absently. “Still…” she said.

She pushed herself up on her knees. Her hand sought balance on his shoulder. He stopped chewing. She moved quick, too afraid to linger in her uncertainty, and pecked him on his cheekbone—right where he had kissed her. The sound it made was sweet, and pronounced. She returned right away to her previous reclined position and filled her mouth with the rest of the popcorn in her hand. Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her head back to the screen.

The movie trudged on. Lucy forced herself to focus on it, no matter how often she felt his gaze burning into the side of her face through the dark room. As his thoughtful silence persisted, she wondered if she had pushed it too far—if he was weirded out by her arbitrary reason for the affection.

She also knew he could definitely hear her heart racing. She wouldn’t be able to play pretend much longer.

But it seemed he was playing the same game. She was visibly red, but during a quieter part of the movie, he surprised her with a question.

“You cold?”

Lucy turned her head toward him, grateful for an excuse to inspect him outright for the first time in a half hour. “Huh?”

“Your feet are cold,” he observed, pushing his toes into the sole of her foot. His gaze was nonchalant.

“Oh. Uh… maybe a little,” she answered, a complete lie.

He sat up from his position leaning against the arm rest. He grabbed the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and loosened it out of its fold. “Sit up,” he said.

She obeyed, eyes glued to his unreadable face.

Leaning forward to meet her, he flung the blanket around her back and secured it around her frame. She thought that’d be the end of it, but he scooted closer still, his hot fingers collecting her hair from her neck and freeing it from the confines.

He was close enough for her to smell the salt on his breath. “Better?” he breathed.

She nodded, dumbfounded and staring. He didn’t look away. After a moment, Lucy wondered what he was waiting for—that is, until he made a soft noise that was eerily close to a whine, angled his jaw toward her, and nodded his chin in a subtle expectant gesture while flicking his eyes to her mouth.

If her heart was pounding before, it was outright thundering now.

Her throat made a noise upon her sucking in a breath that sounded a lot like a gasp. She knew he heard it, but he still didn’t move. His fingers had left the blanket at some point and were resting lazily against her ankle, which was between them. Slowly, she leaned her face forward toward his, which he did a poor job keeping angled properly. When she was close enough, she had to turn her own head rather sharply to reach around to his cheek. When she made contact with it, she heard him exhale, and his eyes fluttered closed. She lingered for a beat, her nose brushing the skin she had just kissed before she slowly pulled away. He turned his head as she retreated, the breath from his lips ghosting over hers until she was too far for him to follow.

His fingers stayed on her ankle, pressing more firmly now. She didn’t recline fully back, but she did separate enough to regain her own air. The movie kept playing; a car crashed into the side of a brick building, flames breaking out on the screen. The room was dyed red by the television. Their skin flickered as they kept staring. Natsu’s jaw was clenched; hers was slacked.

He spoke again, and she almost didn’t hear over the loud sounds of the film. “Can I have some of your water?”

It took a second for his words to fully hit her, but once they did, she nodded rapidly, angling her body to turn and grab the half-full glass on the end table. He placed the bowl of popcorn on the ground, since all that was left were kernels. She resteadied herself on the cushion and handed it to him with both hands, worried her fingers would tremble.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, securing the glass from her.

She watched his throat bob up and down as he drank, and her throat ran dry. When he finished swallowing and returned it to her, she stole a couple of sips herself, emptying it. She placed it on the floor, not wanting to stretch far from him again, though she couldn’t bring herself to lift her attention from the ground.

He tapped his pointer finger twice on her ankle. He wanted her attention.

Slowly, she lifted her face up again, but she kept her eyes lowered. They were already sitting closer now than they were before, so he didn’t need to lean forward much to reach her. He brought his right hand to brush beneath her chin, tilting her up an inch. She couldn’t meet his eyes now—he was too close for that. His lips were warm on her cheek, and he placed them an inch closer. Closer to where friends would never kiss each other.

He barely pulled back. “Lucy…” he began, and his breath was on her cheek as he spoke. “Tell me... What am I supposed to do if everything you do makes me happy?”

Her heart was in her throat. They were so close now; they were breathing into each other’s necks. Her hands clung to his shirt, holding him there. “You’re exaggerating,” she whispered, clutching for a tone that was somewhat familiar while simultaneously longing for something new. “No way I make you happy all the time.”

His lips were on her ear now, dragging, not kissing. “What do I do?” he asked again.

Lucy kissed the scar on his neck. It was right there—she couldn’t help herself. “Whatever you want, Natsu,” was her faint answer.

He pulled back to look down at her, brows furrowed and lips parted. The television cast him in flickering rays of reds and blues and yellows. His right hand came to her neck, thumb tracing down her throat, then back up again. He brought his lips again to her, a mere inch from her mouth, and kissed her softly. He didn’t pull away. Her eyelids were permanently drooping now, gaze fixed low. She felt her head turning, and she wasn’t sure if she turned it herself or if his hand on her neck had done it.

Another kiss, a centimeter away now. She thought this was getting rather frustrating. “Natsu?” she urged, tilting the final bit to mingle their breaths.

It was timid, tantalizing—the way he brushed his lips over hers without actually kissing her. It was like he was mapping her out before landing. A stupid thing, in her view, and very unlike him. She wished he would barrel right in, just like he did with everything else. But she let him explore. Let the air electrify. And when he finally pressed against her mouth firmly, she whimpered.

His hands were on her face. This was a long, firm kiss. They both inhaled each other like a drug. When this kiss ended with a sweet sound that churned her gut, she was worried he’d pull away—but he didn’t. His mouth came back, lips rough but pliant, stealing every attempt of breath from her mouth. She had no idea kissing would be equally centered around teeth and tongues, alternating between avoiding and seeking them out.

After a minute, he realized all at once that his hands could do other things, too. He released her face and gathered her to his chest, yanking and tugging her close first by her clothes and then by the waist beneath them. He wasn’t content until she was in his lap, her legs wrapped around his hips and his arms secured around her back.

His mouth was steaming hot. Tongue even hotter. It almost burned her own, and she sucked in a relieving breath when he pulled away to lap at her neck, which he could reach easily at this position. Her fingers were in his hair, on his shoulders, at his lower back, clawing the bottom of his shirt until it rolled up and exposed his skin.

Then, she was under him.

He propped his weight on his elbows by her head, her blond locks tangling in his fingers above. She bit his lip, and he found himself wanting to pull her hair, just a little, just to make her gasp. He tucked his hand under the nape of her neck and clenched his fist. When her mouth opened, he dove in again, deeper than before. Their foreheads brushed, and he felt the sweat collecting there.

He tore his mouth away, panting. She was wrecked beneath him, face almost as red as her lips and expression wild and helpless.

“Too hot?” he grunted, quiet but half savage.

Lucy, also panting, nodded her head. She could hardly think words, much less say them.

He peeled his body off of hers and brought her to sit up. He grabbed the empty glass on the ground and tore himself from the couch to fill it up in the kitchen. Lucy instantly shivered by the drop in temperature from his absence. She watched him return with heavy strides. He knelt in front of her on the ground and brought the glass to her lips. She drank until it was empty. As soon as the cup was removed from her lips, his mouth was back on hers for one, two, three firm kisses. But he wouldn’t suffocate her again, no matter the fact that she’d absolutely let him if he tried.

“Natsu?” Lucy squeaked. “I should tell you…”

His gaze was fixed on hers, his breath held. “What?” he urged.

“I lied to you before. About friends kissing each other on the cheek when they were happy.”

She could see his pulse beating through the vein on his neck. Her words made him nervous, she saw, so she chased him for another kiss, placing her arms over his shoulders. He swallowed it whole.

She continued against his lips, “It’s kinda… for people who are more than friends.”

His eyes flicked from her mouth to her brown irises. “We’re more than friends,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And after the thrill of his words settled into her heart, Lucy laughed. Hard.

“What is it?” he inquired anxiously.

Her forehead rested against his. “Nothing. Just kiss me again,” she said, smiling.

And he did.

[kirislovelygf]

tsireya x fem!sully!reader pls pls pls?? 🥹🥹 y/n is lo’ak’s twin and she likes tsireya a lot but she thinks tsireya likes lo’ak so she starts skipping lessons to avoid her, only to find out she was wrong the whole time because one day after training lo’ak storms into the marui pod all mad and when y/n asks what’s wrong he’s like “i told tsireya i like her but she turned me down because she likes you” but y/n just doesn’t believe him until the next day tsireya comes up to her and asks to talk in private and you can make it up from there!! 🤍🤍

sunsetz (tsireya x omaticayan fem! reader)

contents: confessions, crushing, hugs, lumity reference at the end, lo’ak and y/n are twins, good ole wlw happiness.

wrd count: 1.8k

a/n: ty to whoever submitted this prompt and i’m so so so sorry it took so long!! i feel so bad! i hope this makes up for it. enjoy! :)

<3

when y/n’s family arrived here in awa’atlu, it took her a while to adjust. but she eventually became happy here.

after the war, and neteyam’s recovery, she was already growing closer with the reef kids.

especially tsireya. y/n had fallen hard for her.

tsireya was kind, graceful, smart, generous, and beautiful. y/n could think of hundreds of terms to describe her.

everyone knew about her painfully obvious crush except for her twin lo’ak and tsireya.

only because they were too focused on each other.

to tsireya, she thinks she found a new best friend.

to lo’ak? a crush as big as y/n’s.

the only thing that was stopping y/n from asking her out was because of her twin.

she thought they were obsessed with each other from looking at how much time they spend together when they’re in a group.

she had mistook tsireya’s friendship with lo’ak as a crush and was afraid that if she tried anything, she’d humiliate herself.

or ruin the friendship with tsireya and then her relationship with her best friend from birth.

for the past couple weeks, the kids have been taking underwater hunting lessons with tsireya, au’nung, and rotxo, but y/n’s been skipping them.

her crush was stronger than ever and she couldn’t go through another lesson where lo’ak was flirting with the girl she loved.

today was the third lesson she skipped.

she was sitting on the edge of her family’s marui while looking down at the water, one knee propped up to hold her head.

neytiri was behind her organizing her things, or sharpening a knife, something that y/n couldn’t really care less about.

“why aren’t you out there?” neytiri asks her.

“you should be learning how to hunt.”

“i have a headache. i don’t feel like swimming right now.” y/n responded in a low tone.

“hmph. next week, i better see you out there with everyone else.” neytiri said.

“yes, mama.” y/n muttered. neytiri sighs looking at her daughter's sad demeanor and decides to leave her alone.

“uhm.. i need to gather some fruits for later. i’ll be back before eclipse. your father should be back soon, so you won't be alone for long.” she said as she stood up.

“okay, mama. see you later.” y/n mutters. she turns slightly to smile at her but quickly looks back at the water.

neytiri watched her for a moment before grabbing her basket and leaving the marui.

a little while later, jake comes back from a meeting with tonowari and they sit together, organizing some of his tools.

“whoa, can i have this one?” she asked her father while holding up a knife that was made from sea glass.

“what’s wrong with the one you have?” he asks.

“nothing, i just want this one.” she shrugs. he chuckles and nods, “fine, keep it.”

she smiles and gets up to put it away in her corner of the marui.

“hey, dad. where’s y/n?” lo’ak said from the other side of the marui.

“uh, she’s in her room.” jake answered.

y/n gets up and watches as lo’ak storms into her corner, throwing the divider that acted as a door aside.

“hey! what’s your problem? i coulda been naked.” she grumbled.

“but you’re not. sit down, we gotta talk.” he said quickly.

she rolls her eyes but they both sit down together.

“what?” she asks.

“why have you been avoiding tsireya?” he asks.

her mouth suddenly went dry. could he know? he must be mad with how he entered her room. “uh..”

he rolls his eyes. “just tell me. i probably already know the answer.”

“i.. wh- uh, why do you think i’ve been avoiding her?” she asks hesitantly.

“because you like her. no, not even. you love her.” he said bluntly.

“bro, what the hell are you talking about? you don’t know that.”

neteyam was walking past the room and heard her ask when he said, “how could anyone NOT know that?”

“go away, ‘teyam!”

“bro, go away!” the twins yelled. they rolled their eyes at neteyam’s snickering and didn’t continue until they heard his footsteps walk away from the room.

“look, i went to tsireya earlier because i had a crush on her too. i decided i was gonna tell her today, so i did.” he admitted.

y/n’s expression softened with sadness. “oh..”

“but she told me she didn’t like me. because she’s already in love with you.”

“what? no, she isn’t-“

“come on, would i lie to you? i’m serious, she’s crazy about you.” he said in an irritated tone.

“okay.. and you’re mad at me cause she likes me and not you?” she asked him hesitantly.

he scoffed. “no! dude, i’m mad because you’ve been a bitch about it and you haven’t spoken to her in weeks! she thinks you hate her.”

“i haven’t been mean to her-“

“no, dummy. bitch like wimpy, scaredy cat, a pussy. but you’ve been mean to her too, so that applies too.” he nodded. y/n glared at her brother before he continued.

“i tried my best to convince her you don’t hate her but she still thinks you and her have a zero chance of happening. so you have to let her know you’re obsessed with her.” he poked her knee and she swatted his hand.

“i’m not obsessed with her, lo’ak. i swear, if you told her i am-“

he chuckled. “i didn’t. i didn’t even know you liked her until today. i was too focused on tsireya to notice.” he shrugs.

y/n sighs and her hands drag down her face with she groaned in frustration.

“look, i know we fight a lot and stuff. but you’re my best friend.” lo’ak started softly.

y/n looks up at him. lo’ak looks down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers and not making eye contact.

“i care about you. i guess if tsireya doesn’t wanna be with me, i’d rather her be happy with you. cause i know you’ll treat each other right.” he continued, slightly stumbling over a few words.

y/n looks up at her brother and smiled. “thanks, lo’ak.” she holds his hands that were folded together. he unfolds them and holds hers in his one hand.

y/n sighs. “okay. i’ll tell her..”

“yes! good.”

“tomorrow.”

“no! go, now! like, now, now! come on.” he grabs her wrist and picks her up from the floor but y/n stops him.

“no, lo’ak!”

he looks back at her. “what? if you ignore her any longer, she’s gonna lose interest.”

“it’s almost eclipse, anyways. dad’s not gonna let us out.” she told him, literally reaching for any excuse.

it was just a coincidence that the eclipse was in a couple minutes.

“oh.” he mumbled. “yeah, that’s a problem.” they stand by the entrance of the room and figure out what to do.

“okay. tomorrow, we will find some flowers, make a bouquet, you’ll go to her dad-“

“her dad?! why would i go to him? he’s gonna stab me with his big-ass spear!” y/n said.

“not if you’re nice. and then you’ll be all like ‘i’d like to take your daughter out on a date.’ and he’ll be like ‘oh my god, you’re so sweet, of course.’ and then ronal-“

“hell. no. ronal will literally make sure i never see my family again.” she says, shaking her head.

“don’t be dramatic.” lo’ak laughs and suddenly, they hear voices in the main room of the marui.

y/n and lo’ak quickly shut up to hear who it was.

“i was wondering if i could talk to y/n for a moment. it’s important.”

y/n and lo’ak look at each other with wide eyes and started whispering to each other.

“what the hell do i do?”

“go out there!”

“no, i look like a mess! you go and ask what she wants and then-”

“oh my- just go!” he shoved y/n out of her own room and her heart was beating what felt like a million times per minute.

“y/n. your friend, tsireya’s here to see you.” jake called out.

“coming!” she responded, her voice cracking.

she could hear lo’ak’s quiet laugh from her room and rolled her eyes.

she meets up with tsireya and they agree to take a walk. jake asked her to be back not too late since eclipse was soon.

the girls walked away from the village, down the beach, just talking about bland topics, avoiding the topic they actually needed to be discussing.

“uhm.. so i wanted to ask you something.” tsireya said. she stood to face y/n.

“okay.” y/n says worriedly.

“so.. i was speaking to lo’ak earlier and i was asking him about you.”

“okay..”

“i can’t help but think you don’t like me. or you hate me. i haven’t seen you in weeks and every time i try to look for you, you’re busy with something else.”

y/n suddenly realized how shitty that was of her and felt a wave of embarrassment.

her hands covered her face as she chuckled lightly. “oh, god- i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, no wonder you think i hate you.”

tsireya gently takes her hands away from her face with a soft smile. “so, you don’t hate me?”

“no, of course not. i could never hate you. you’re so amazing and nice and pretty. i mean, i’ve liked you since we got here and you showed me around the village and you were just super nice.”

“you think i’m pretty?” tsireya interrupted. hints of pink flooded her cheeks.

“uh.. yeah.” y/n said quietly.

tsireya blushed even harder and looked down.

“i really thought you despised me and the whole time you just..” she laughs out softly.

“i’m really sorry, tsireya. i actually really like you. you’re the kindest and more generous and considerate girl i’ve ever met and uh..”

tsireya watches y/n’s expression, waiting to hear her ask the question she’s been waiting for ever since y/n arrived.

“i uhm.. will-“

“will you go out with me?” tsireya interrupted.

she quickly slapped her hand over her mouth as she watched y/n’s face. she was ready to ask tsireya already.

y/n sighs out before tsireya laughs out.

“i’m sorry!”

“i was so ready to say it! ugh, tsireya…”

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry, i’ll let you say it..” tsireya smiled.

y/n chuckled lightly. “tsireya.. will you go out with me?”

tsireya squeals in excitement before hugging y/n, throwing her arms around her neck.

y/n laughs out and spins her around, holding her tight in her arms.

she puts her down, her hands still on tsireya’s waist. tsireya had her hands on the back of y/n’s neck and they were inches apart from each other.

they would have kissed and had a nice, happy, sapphic ending, but the author is single and sad and will not be made jealous of by two fictional characters.

<3

[storiesbyjes2g]

Official official

natethegreat 💘

yesiwill BRO! It's about time y'all made it simsta official. I guess congratulations are in order!

amcclure Hey! It's been a minute. Guess we both been busy with our ladies. Holla at me sometime.

heynani That's so great! I'm glad you finally found someone. So happy for you.

themelanyp 👀😍

theflex Long time no post. Congrats bro. You gonna be in the city for the holidays? Me, you, munchies and dbenali need to get together.

mrspierson2u Look at my baby. So grown and handsome. 😭🥰

tpoole Y'all just out there living it up, huh? Not mad at all.

olianai I've seen her around the island. I should have known she belong to you. 😜

amosmac You getting married my dude??

twinkletoes Watcher take me! My man done gon' and took himself off the market! 🎶it coulda been uuuus! 😭😭😭😭😭

kaybee23 Hey! I was thinking of you recently. Glad to see you and your special friend are still together. Take care, my friend.

hotkoko Why does the Watcher hate me???? 😭

And all the single ladies cried that night LOL