#// different BUT it was the same sort of “You're my kid now and if ever need somewhere to go you CAN come here.”

[aquatic-illusion]

How did it go with ruby

.. Not well.

I don't-

I don't know what to do. I've never heard of anything like this. I don't know who to go to for help.

All I know is that I am going to be there if she needs me. My arms will always be open to her. That's the least I can do.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

edited version can be read on ao3 HERE

.

“Need a hand with that?”

Derek didn't drop the tire he was carrying, but it was a close thing. He'd recognise that voice anywhere—would know it in a sea of a thousand others.

He slowly turned on his heel to find its owner sat in Derek's favourite tree.

Stiles.

“You're here,” he breathed, not bothering to hide the mix of shock and relief that coloured his own voice and features.

Stilesʼ lips twitched. “I'm here,” he confirmed, just in case Derek needed to hear it.

“Hey,” Derek said, eloquent as ever.

“Hey yourself,” Stiles grinned back.

Shifting his weight on the tree branch, Stiles then pulled himself up to standing. He wiped his hands on the ass of his jeans before proffering one towards Derek.

“I'm Mieczysław Stilinski. It's really nice to meet you, dude.”

Stilesʼcheeks flushed an overwhelmingly pretty shade of pink, and Derek wanted to eat him.

Reaching out to take the hand in one of his own, the pads of his fingertips brushed the familiar Jack rabbit pulse at Stiles's wrist, for just a second, and it was both a calling card and like a huge sigh of relief.

He turned the name around in his mind.

Mieczysław. Mieczysław Stilinski.

It was unexpected, and very Polish, and Derek sort of adored it.

Looking a little antsy, Stiles said, “It, uh, means 'sword' in Polish. If you go in for that sort of thing.” He blushed some more and then snorted at himself. “But yeah, I know it's kinda... ʼSʼobviously why I go by Stiles—which was my Grandfather's nickname too, by the way.”

Derek's heart swelled in his chest.

This was what they could've had if things had gone differently for them.

He cleared his throat, took a deep intake of woodsmoke-laced air into his lungs, then said, “Broderick Seth Rodman Hale, third son of Talia and Seth Hale of the Hale Pack of Beacon Hills county, North California, and I'm very pleased to meet you're acquaintance. Oh, and do not call me dude, by the way.”

“Broderick? Are you shitting me right now?!” Stiles blurted, trying and failing to not laugh.

Derek rolled his eyes and it felt like breathing. “Seriously? I think you'll find you don't have even half a leg to stand on, Mieczysław.”

“Actually, I have two, Broderick Seth Rodman Hale, and I diligently used the both of them to come out here to Bumfuck nowhere to find you.”

He shot Derek with ridiculous finger guns then blew away imaginary gunpowder smoke, and if it wasn't for the kid's beard it could've easily been thirteen-years ago.

Not a kid anymore.

Stiles looked amazing. A little broader, and a little fuller in the face, and the beard really, really suited him. At once, Derek had the desperate urge to sink his claws into it and paw at the pale skin beneath. He wanted to back Stiles into the bark of the tree and bury his nose in that long, mole-peppered neck he still had dreams about, to breathe in pure unadulterated Stiles.

He swallowed thickly, licking at his dry lips and wishing they were Stilesʼ. Had to force himself to unclench the fist not currently grasping Stiles's hand.

Derek had to try his best to pretend that he wasn't very aware of the fact that they were still very much holding onto each other.

“Broderick means 'brother' in Old Norse, if you go in for that sort of thing,” he offered, borrowing Stiles's banter.

Stiles's smile was easy, albeit tainted with a hint of sadness for that piece of information. He was sort of—looser. More relaxed, and definitely less agitated than he used to be. Though he smelled exactly the same as he always had: Of strong coffee and Bath & Body Oak shower gel and wild cinnamon and lemon sherbet dip, and that particular warm smack of something that Derek had always struggled to place—the very essence of Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski.

The familiar tang zinged over his taste buds like popping candy, and his wolf took up its routinely impatient pacing at his core as if they had seen Stiles only yesterday.

“I'm—uh, I don't—you look good, Stiles. Really good.”

This human was the only creature on planet earth that had Derek Hale fumbling his words.

Stiles was smirking his signature smirk—only there was something new pulling at the curve of that life-ruining mouth of his.

Unerring confidence.

Derek sniffed at the air and licked at his lips again so he could taste that, too.

“You're look pretty fine yourself there, Sourwolf,” Stiles divulged, mirroring Derek again by licking his own lips. He shamelessly looked Derek up and down and said, “Your edges aren't quite so sharp, and you're little softer ʼround the eyes, like maybe you're—I dunno. Something closer to being happy?” His eyes shone like the full moon in the dark when he told Derek, “And, dare I say it, maybe not even all that sour anymore?”

Derek huffed a breath out through his nostrils that was in the proximity of a laugh.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Looks good on you, man. Really good.”

Stiles was borrowing Derek's words, and if he kept saying things like that to Derek while looking at Derek the way that he was, Derek would have to restrain himself from picking the guy up by the scruff of his very nice sweater and kissing the words right out of his mouth.

Then everything sort of stilled, somehow, including the wind, and the birds, and them, as if the whole world had just halted for something incredibly important.

They stood there, just gazing at each other. Like there wasn't anything else they could or would possibly be doing right now.

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.

It was obvious to even the blades of grass on the ground that they both still felt it.

Slowly, slowly, they caught back up to reality.

Derek took a breath and found his voice again.

“Might've taken a few pointers from a kid I used to know,” he smiled, eyes never leaving Stilesʼ.

Then he thought in for a penny and admitted, “I hoped you'd come looking for me—and I want you to know that I'm really, really glad that you did.”

Stiles squinted at him through the sun's afternoon rays that broke through the Colorado cloud cover like the heavens had suddenly appeared. In that moment, he reminded Derek of the beautiful golden Aztec Sanvitalia shrub that grew down by the little stream behind his cabin. He wondered briefly if that was the missing base note in Stiles's scent, and felt a little insane with it all.

“Well, I knew I'd find you,” Stiles shrugged, “because one: I'm like a dog with a bone, and two: You left a trail of breadcrumbs so fucking vague only a genius like yours truly would be able to follow.”

He then shielded those big brown doe eyes of his from a particularly bright sunbeam with a still-bony hand, and the squinted look on his face was so fond Derek had to sink his canines into his lip to hold in the pitiful whine that threatened to climb up and out of his chest and escape him.

He stepped closer to the tree; closer to the boy who runs with wolves, who was definitely not a boy any longer.

“You make it sound as if we're in some sort of fairytale, Stiles,” Derek said as he attempted to blink Stiles's beauty from his eyes, knowing it would be a fruitless endeavour.

Finally, Stiles reached out to pull Derek down and into his lap, and Derek went like a force of nature.

He dropped the tire this time.

Stiles smelled like love when he said, “Weren't we always, Der?” right into Derek's mouth.

And Derek knew.

As Stiles leaned in and kissed him softly, and he kissed Stiles softly right back, he knew they both understood that although they had to travel far from Beacon Hills to find it, they had both—at long last—made it home.

.

on ao3 HERE if you'd like to leave me a comment <3

i saw the new dob shoot and my brain remembered the hoech one and went ping! this is for @wulfnerd seeing as they came up with the wonderful Broderick as Derek's full first name in the tags of a post of mine who knows how long ago...

unedited, please be forgiving <3

[jeonginsleftcheek]

First kiss with Stray Kids

genre: fluff, suggestive

description: you and skz member went out on a few dates and it's time to share your first kiss. what's it like to kiss skz members for the first time?

a/n: gn!reader, okay i'm supposed to be asleep but i got this idea, enjoy?🤍

Chan:

Oh, Chan probably plans the kiss the night before your date. He'll lay in bed and flip through different scenarios of you two kissing. He keeps overthinking and he can't sleep(what's new tho?). He probably ends up imagining you two married with kids and starts giggling n shit. When you actually meet up, he's freaking nervous the whole time. You notice and if you ask him what's wrong he'll probably come up with an excuse cause he wants to wait till the end of the date for the kiss. Will ask you 'can i kiss you?' when that time comes and get shy when you say yes but there's no backing out now. Will kiss you gently like you're some sort of delicate flower and absolutely freak the f out on the inside because hello??? You're kissing??? That first kiss will be sweet and innocent, but get ready for the second one cause now that he broke the ice, it's gonna get heated.

Lee Know:

He wants to kiss you so badly every time you're together, but for some reason he just gets so nervous about it so he can't initiate it. When you're out on a date he will look at your lips the whole time while you talk and lick his lips unconsciously. You notice ofcourse, and since he loves teasing you, you're happy you finally have a chance to tease him a little. He catches himself staring at your lips and looks up at your eyes, his ears are red and he chuckles nervously. You say 'you wanna kiss me or something?' and he's mortified but he wont show that, he'll just say 'so what if i do?'. That's cue for you to smirk and lean in, then stop right before you actually touch just to see him panic once more because he's adorable when he's flustered, okay? He'll close the gap then and you'll get a sweet kiss, full of warmness and smiles.

Changbin:

Hypes himself up, actually thinks he'll initiate the kiss but when you look at him like that he gets all shy and melts and you have to lean in first. He'll lean in too then, with his cute half smirk, eyes trained on your lips. He's kinda stiff at first (because he's panicking and can't believe you're actually kissing him) but will relax after some time and put his hand on the back of your head to hold you in place so he can keep kissing you. Gets bolder as you reciprocate and slips a little tongue in. Gets shy again when you part and make eye contact. (He's giggling and kicking his feet fr). Will ask for kisses every second of the day from that moment on and if you deny him, he'll get all sulky and dramatic. (How dare you?)

Hyunjin:

I think he'd also be shy about it but he would muster up enough courage to lean in first and kiss you. He wants your first kiss to be extra romantic so he takes his time and kisses the corners of your lips, then your upper lip, then your bottom lip before he actually presses those pretty lips into yours. You melt because how are someone's lips that soft?! (Hyunjin thinks the same for you) And trust me he may look calm and collected in that moment but my man is freaking out on the inside. Gets more courageous and slips his tongue in and just massages yours gently at first. Then he tilts your head, his big hands holding your face and he just starts making out with you and boy oh boy it's a lot. By the time you part for air, you both look disheveled and flushed but can you help it? You both got really into it. Now that he tasted you, he wont ever hesitate to kiss you like that for hours.

Jisung:

He will wait for you to initiate it (he will throw not so subtle signs at you tho) and when you do, this man will explore your mouth with his tongue like he needs your air to breathe. Messy, sloppy, teeth clanking, hands roaming around, kisses you until you're literally heaving for a breath. Bite his bottom lip and he'll whimper into your mouth. I know, sounds like a hell of a first kiss but I feel like he just wants to go all in because he's literally infatuated with you. Now that you've kissed for the first time, you're obligated to give him kisses every 2 minutes. Cause like what are you doing if you're not kissing him, right? You don't really need air to breathe, right?

Felix:

I feel like he isn't shy about things like this in real life, especially if he knows you reciprocate his feelings so he'll just go for it. Puts his hand on your cheek and starts with gently pressing his lips with yours before moving them (will probably suck your bottom lip between his). Definitely looks like the type that will push his tongue in just a few moments later, leaving you kinda shocked that he's so bold but that's just Felix, I feel like he has no problem showing you he loves you in any form of physical love language (wink wink). He'll kiss you until your breathless, his tongue moving in all directions (preview for later?). Will probably ask 'was that good?' or 'did you like that?' with a smirk. He knows it was good, he just wants to hear you say it.

Seungmin:

His first kiss would be timid and gentle, he would lean in first but he'd let you lead and set the pace. He would look so calm and collected but he is freaking the hell out on the inside. He can't believe you're kissing him. Will put his arms around your waist or shoulders and hold you closer to his body because he feels so happy that you like him that much. If you throw in a little tongue you'll feel him clench his hands into fists because you'll literally be the death of him, why are you doing that? He reciprocates, still lets you lead (for now). Run your fingers through his hair and touch his neck while you kiss him, he will *burst*. When you part he smiles, the widest smile you've seen on his face (you fall in love again because hello beautiful??) and his ears are red and you want to scream and pinch his cheeks cause he's just too adorable.

Jeongin:

My man hypes himself up, believes he'll be fearless, he'll come in and swoop you off your feet. But when he's actually in front of you, his braveness will fade and be replaced with nervousness. He asks if he can kiss you and you both lean in at the same time resulting in either your head bumping or teeth clashing but it's fine if it's awkward the first time, it only gets better from there. So when you lean in again he kisses you so gently that you genuinely feel like you're in one of those cheesy tv scenes where time stops. Presses a few fast gentle kisses into your lips while smiling and when he leans back his face is as red as a tomato. Get ready for the future though, cause this boy is a fast learner and once he overcomes the shyness you're in for a hell of a treat.

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part I

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy". note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons. Also, this story is angsty with a happy ending - it does not contain any smut or suggestive themes. [A/N: This is my first SMAU and hooooooly shit did I totally underestimate how much work it is, and how things work within Tumblr to make it look alright. If you have any tips, let me know lol. I had to split it up in pieces, but i've got all the content written out already, so will be updated soon with the next part!]

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

December, 2025

February, 2026

[Excerpt from red carpet interview at the Grammy's with Y/N]

How are you feeling tonight? You're up for 3 awards, one of them Album of the Year for All I Ever Needed - that's huge!

"It's so overwhelming, to be honest."

Even when you've gone through this experience before? This is your fourth time attending, second time as nominee.

"Yeah, maybe even more so! It's a great chance to hang out with friends and meet new people, but it's also really prestigious still. Being nominated - I try to act like it doesn't matter, because awards always involve politics too - but at the end of the day, you do want it."

And who're you most looking forward to seeing tonight?

"Honestly? I came alone tonight, so I can't wait to find Sabrina [Carpenter] and Jade. I'm gonna need my girls."

Your friend Miley is also up for an award tonight in the same category, what's that like?

"Ha, if the Grammy's do the right thing tonight she'll win it - I know I voted for her!"

You'll also be performing one of your songs - Ruin My Life, can you tell us a bit about what to expect?

"I really wanted this to be visually interesting, but it took me a while to get the right concept for it. I think it's because to me this album and song already feel sort of far removed, and lived in? I'm in a different phase of my life right now, so I had to find a new way to still connet to it. I was really grateful to work with a great art director to bring a different version to the stage."

March, 2026

July, 2026

[SkyNews excerpt]

Lando Norris wins Silverstone GP, dedicates his 20th podium win to his family

The man of the hour is none other than Lando Norris, who’s just gone on to claim his 20th victory at his home race. You’re reading that right, his home race! While he still owns his apartment in Monaco, Norris revealed today that he’s been living back in England for the past few months. “I just wasn’t in the right headspace anymore and wanted to live closer to my family. Especially now that my brother’s kids are growing up, I just like knowing I could drive over – rather than having to fly across countries.”

Speaking on the importance of his family being present, Norris shared that it means everything to him. “In this sport you need to have skill, talent, trust and investment from your team, but also you need that stable sense of safety from the people you love. If your mindset isn’t there, you can’t be competitive.”

Norris has been vocal about mental health in the past, and has advocated for more access to mental healthcare facilities and professionals across motorsport.

“Especially in tougher years where there’s just a lot of noise and turmoil, it’s nice to have a professional coach you to mental fitness as well.”

It was the only notable reference to Norris’ private life, which ended on a low note last year after splitting from long-time girlfriend y/n l/n. The two were originally thought to have had an amicable split, but recent reports hint at a different story, with Norris unfollowing his ex and her friends unfollowing him in return.

August, 2026

September, 2026

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

Part II can be read here! likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

[chariaki]

I like you!

Yuji x fem!reader

It took you a while to actually notice Yuji Itadori. Although, yes, you are close friends, you never really read into his gestures too deeply, since he is friendly to everyone.

Over the past few years, you failed to notice the way he dyes his hair only pink for the reason that you said you liked it on him, the way the same colour rises to his cheeks when you ruffle his hair and call him a "cutie pie", the way he focuses on you instead of the lesson you were teaching him, and especially the way his body flinches, ears red, and pants bulged up whenever you hug him tightly.

Nobara talked to you about Yuji when you had a sleepover at her place. The girl talk helped you confirm your rising suspicion about him. Yuji Itadori has a crush on you!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Okay! Lets get this straight:

Yuji Itadori, 18 years old, male. Just your ordinary teenager. Been friends with him for more than 10 years, friendly, sweet, funny and his most prominent characteristics are: his pink hair, his muscular build and.... his crush. on. you.

This realization made you think about him for weeks. It made you think about you and him. And what surprises you is that you didn't feel an ounce of discomfort thinking about Yuji as a possible boyfriend. You even thought of him in all sorts of ways.

A few weeks has gone by and you found it entertaining to just stare at him. Your body turned to him, eyes shamelessly focused on him. You always thought of Yuji as cute. But now...He actually looks so handsome.

You admire the way his eyes are sharply focused on reading a manga, the way his brows furrow in frustration from the plot, the way his cheek shows the bulge of his tongue. He makes a click sound. And suddenly, you're eyes fall to his arms, he wasn't even trying yet his muscles are just so evident. It's proof of his diligent hard work.

You stood up and walked to his desk, bending your body forward to to meet his face.

"Yujiiii"

You whispered. Your face so close to his that you can smell his perfume and, with his ears red, you're sure he can smell yours too. Not to mention the way his eyes momentarily looked down to your chest and back up to your face so fast, you could've missed it if you blinked!

But you didn't. You saw it and it made you want to tease him more.

"Let's go home?"

"Uhh... Yeah. Sure!"

He hurriedly packs up his things and stands up behind you with his hand carrying his backpack. When he sees that you were done with your stuff, he effortlessly slings your bag on his back. A habit he developed since he always walked home with you. Yuji didn't want your pretty body to be tired from carrying such a heavy bag.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The walk home was as usual, you, talking excitedly about your day and him looking at you, smiling. Occasionally, Yuji would also beam about his video games, monster movies and the times Megumi slapped and scolded him for doing something stupid. It was a routine day for you and so you wanted to make a difference.

"Yuuu, wanna go grab ice cream? My treat!" You beam up at him, eyes mischevious and playful.

"Okei okeii!!!"

The two of you approached your favorite ice cream truck. You and Yuji had been buying their ice creams ever since you were kids. The owner had practically watched you grow up.

"Well if it isn't my favorite lovebirds!"

"'Sup, Uncle!!" Yuji greeted. You always wondered why he called you guys that and you denied it every time. You also failed to notice that Yuji didn't mind the nickname and is even happy to hear it. And now you know why.

"Hiii, Uncleee! We'll have our usual" You greeted, turning around to find Yuji lingering behind you. His tall figure smilling down at you as his hand takes out money from his oocket and pays for the ice cream.

"Heyyyy!!! I told you I was going to pay!" You pouted at him.

He poked your cheek and bended his knees to level his face with yours. "Hehe. I got it. Besides, we can celebrate the day you didn't deny it. " He smiled and patted your head.

"Deny what?" You ask while looking at Yuji grabbing your ice creams and the receipt, walking towards the nearby table and placing your bags down. He looks at you from his seat and pats the seat next to him.

"The"Lovebirds" ....Just kidding!" He exclaims while happily biting into his ice cream.

He had ice cream on his nose.

"Hmmmm"

You say smirking. You scooted closer to him, inching your face near his face. Yuji's eyes widen, body leaning back to lengthen the space between your faces. You don't give in and leaned closer even more.

He's so adorable. A blush rises to his cheeks and ears in the same color as his hair. You loved it when he did that.

What amuses you is when he closed his eyes.

You took this opportunity to kiss his nose, licking away the ice cream.

"Mmm!! Strawberry. Heh."

Yuji slowly opened his eyes, dumbfounded.

"H-huh?! HUHHH??"

Poor boy collapsed backward, back landing on the wooden bench. Ice cream falling on the grass.

The owner laughed loudly, witnessing everything that unfolded.

"Yuji? You alright there?" You chuckled.

"Uhhhhhh.... give me a minute yn.. " He mumbled, arms covering his face while he layed still,cheast heaving up and down.

After what you assumed to be five minutes, Yuji slowly rose up, cheeks and ears still pink, a hand touching the place where you kissed him.

"Uhh....I-"

"Yuji." You smiled at him, amused at his flustered state.

"W-wait, Yn. Please let me go first."

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"I like you."

Your eyes widened.

He confessed! You thought to yourself. You stayed silent, now you're the one who's flustered.

WHO wouldn't be when Yuji Itadori is looking at you with such emotion in his eyes. He's so focused on you, patiently awaiting for your response.

"You don't have to reply now of course! I just.... I just wanted you to know. I really do like you, yn. Have liked you since the first time you took me here to buy ice cream, still liked you even when you ranted about your old crush, and I'm pretty damn sure I'll continue liking or fucking loving you even if you turn me down."

He hold such intense eye contact. Determination in his eyes, in contrast to the red in his ears and the constant pink in his cheeks that gives away his embarrassment.

You rested your head on his chest, hiding your flustered face and looking away from his inteses gaze. You're sure you turned into a tomato too.

"Mm mike kyu chew"

You mumbled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat race through his uniform.

"Hm? I didn't get that, Yn." Yuji questioned, rubbing your arms on your side with his big hands then gently pulling you up to face him.

His eyes widened, lips broke into a big smile.

"Y-your all red!!" His eyes crinkled and his loud, beautiful laugh escaped his lips.

"Hmph! I LIKE YOU TOO, OKAY!"

You exclaimed. Embarrassment visible in your voice.

"You do?" Yuji beamed and leaned his face close in anticipation.

"I do." You couldn't help but smile as you squished his cheeks, your ice cream long discarded. He leaned in your touch.

"I like you more."

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

This fic is inspired by @smsm22!! 💛

[itsa-me-lily]

God I love this au, it's feeding me so good today. The last one with the part about only one bedroom has me thinking about a sick reader, the gross kind of sick where you're sweaty and wheezy and snotty, and the fact that if it were anyone else Simon would be quarantining them. But because it's his spouse, he wakes up to you nasally wheezing and mouth breathing while sprawled across him, and all he can think about is when you're due for your next round of medicine and if he needs to buy more tissues.

Sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste. Also do the guinea pigs have names and what do they look like?

I'm dying. This is the first ever ask I've ever gotten (that I recall) and I'm going to pass away. Also "sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste" that is such a good line, I'm apologizing in advance if I steal it.

Also warning for content of being sick, this is based off my last bout of plague.

Also Also Here's the Simon & Thimble playlist

Also Also Also Here's the Military Program Spouse AU masterlist

Bedsharing in general does not happen at first. (Now I want to percolate an idea about sharing the bed for the first time). You're way to use to having your own bed that sharing with someone means you're not sleeping easily and I think Simon would rather sleep with the guinea pigs in their cage than have another human being that close to him when he sleeps. (This was also not something he initially thought about when being told a spouse was to be picked)

So what's the solution? Obviously bunk beds! Kind of, sorta...okay not really but the look on Simon's face when you had suggested getting bunk beds had been entertaining. Who knew so much indignation could come through a medical mask. Really his eyebrows did so much talking.

With the dream of bunkbeds dashed, the next best solution was either two twin beds crammed into the bedroom with a bedside's worth of space between them, or a pull out couch. You managed to find a couch same day that didn't terribly clash with the artwork you have yet to hang up.

You two actually manage to come up with a schedule for who slept where. Obviously you'd get the bed when Simon was deployed, made no sense for you not to. And when he was home the bed was all his unless he was having a night that he knew he wasn't going to trust a deadbolt to keep monsters at bay. Then he made himself comfortable, TV playing low until he managed a few hours in the early morning before you try to leave a silently as you can for work.

(Funny thing, even if you aren't sharing a bed traditionally, you both most certainly have your own sides, along with bed stands that told two different stories)

The first time you get sick is when Simon is technically deployed. Well actually, the day he returns is the day you spike a 101.8 fever and work forces you to go home so you don't become a walking petri dish and expose the college kids that come into your office.

Once you're home you appease the little beasts demanding some sort of vegetal boon, change into the rattiest clothes you have, and then huddle under a staggering amount of blankets that have made their home on your bed. (Simon may have side eyed them when you first set them out, but you've seen the mountain he creates under them, you knew the magic of weighted blankets)

Sleep isn't peaceful, you hadn't broken out the Nyquil quite yet, but you do manage to drift off for a few hours. And then the coughing starts. It's the kind that's a bitch to deal with, dry and pushing your ribs to the limit with how often they can expand and contract. By the time Simon comes home you've steamed yourself twice, taken only a smidge over the recommended amount of cough suppressant, and slathered yourself with Vic's Vaporub. All in all, you were properly miserable.

You're in the kitchen, staring into the abyss of your over-steeping tea as if it will magically make you feel better if you only sell your soul to it, really a tempting offer, when the wheeks of the pigs announce that another person they know has arrived.

If Simon wasn't clued in that something was off at seeing you home before the end of your work day, the pungent smell of menthol would have been a dead give away. You're still communing with your tea when he knocks against the wall, pulling you out of the deal for your soul to meet him with bleary eyes and a flushed face.

You croak out a greeting that makes Simon wince in sympathy, though that's about all he really does. Simon doesn't really do pleasantries and doting probably wouldn't be the first word people use to describe him, so with your brain function reduced by an overflow of mucus and fever, the kitchen was rather silent.

Until you started coughing, face buried into the crook of your elbow to try to keep your contagion to a minimum and back bowing to nearly double you over. That drives Simon to action, coming to try to keep you up incase you collapse, grabbing your free arm.

When you feel him touch you, you try to pull away, shaking your head and finally finishing your bout, gasping a little as you try to daunting task of breathing and speaking to dissuade him from getting close lest he catches what you have. He clearly wasn't persuaded, hands clenching and unclenching like he simply wanted to pick you up and put you...somewhere.

How exactly Simon Riley would take care of you, he didn't know but he'd be damned sure to at least try. He'd been left to fend for himself while sick before and he didn't like the idea of you going through that. When it was clear that he wasn't going to just leave you to your suffering you relented enough to try to reach a compromise; if he'd be alright watching the pigs while you were sick that would be more useful than a nursemaid while you camped out on the couch.

That...that was something Simon could do. He'd watched how you took care of the boys, surely this was something he could do. And then his brain caught up to the rest of what you had said. There was no way he was going to let you sleep on some pull out couch, as nice as it was. Being Sick meant sleeping in a proper bed, on a mattress that didn't spend it's days folded up.

You tried to insist it was alright but he wouldn't listen to a word of it. Instead he practically herded you back to the bedroom, ignoring your murmurs of your abandoned hot beverage. He didn't lift you to plop you onto the bed itself but it was a near thing. He had to bribe you with the promise of a proper cup of tea for you to even lay your head on your pillow, eyes already heavy with the need for sleep. By the time he had actually made a cup you were out for the count, nasally mucus filled snores letting him know you hadn't perished in the time it took him.

The next few days were filled with mucus, the attempted escape of your lungs via coughing fits, and more Vics than the human body should be exposed to. And the entire time you insisted that you could fend for yourself. Simon didn't push to play nurse, but your tissues never ran out, a dose of medication was always ready on your bedside, and a warm cup of tea stood waiting for you after each nap, like a solider committed to his guard.

Edit;

I'm going to make a separate post for the guinea pigs, because honestly I'm torn on if they're based on my guinea pigs I used to have, or guinea pigs I'd want to have in the future

[starless-nightz]

Okay so I saw whose Daughter of Hestia headcanons (my compliments to the chef) and I also saw you write angst... see where I'm going?

So, might I request headcanons for the child of Hestia getting injured after a battle and just how that might impact the people at camp/morale

Not sure if this makes sense, so sorry about that, but thank you.

Child of Hestia getting injured in battle

note -> Glad you liked the HCs! Yes i do write angst, it just happens that either no one ever requests it or i dont have any idea for the requests.

warnings -> none.

content includes -> angst, the campers are pissed, reader is heavily injured.

The entire camp is shocked when you get hurt. As Hestia's only child, you're the one everyone associates with warmth, safety, and tranquility—so it's profoundly unnerving to see you hurt. It's like there has been a crack in the very foundation of their house, and it sends them reeling to the very core of their bones.

The campfire is chillier without you. Even at the infirmary recovering, your presence is missed. The usual comfort lingering around the campfire ebbs and the gatherings by the fire are not the same. Campers draw closer to the fire but are sans the warmth they're so used to because of the absence of your quiet, calming energy.

Campers take it personally, at least the ones that know you well. The more battle-hardened demigods—the children of Ares and Athena among others—find themselves feeling an anger, rare and deep, toward whatever got to you. To them, you are this sort of symbol of the gentler side of camp life, and seeing you get hurt as some sort of attack on the very heart of what they are fighting so hard for.

Hermes' cabin is affected the most. Although they are normally known to be a playful bunch of kids playing pranks and pulling all sorts of mischievous antics, they're subdued when you're injured. They miss your soft laughter and how you always offered to help clean up after one of their more chaotic moments. They band together to make sure your cabin is looked after while recovering, as means to repay some of the comfort you've given to them in return.

The mood in the infirmary is grim, yet determined. Will Solace, the healer of the camp, treats you with extreme care; after all, your well-being means the world to the camp. He's stern and intent, rarely leaving his post, ensuring that you are receiving all the best possible care. The Apollo kids put in an all-out effort to heal you, aware that it will make a great deal of difference to the morale of others.

Your closest friends refuse to leave your side: duty-operated, that is, they get shifts sitting beside your bed, trying to keep things light-hearted, telling stories, or making quiet jokes. You know that deep inside they're worried, yet they know you will not like seeing their anxiety, and so they try maintaining the usual cast of characters for your benefit, even when it's hard to camouflage worry in their eyes.

Camp activities are much more subdued now. Training sessions and sparring matches are nowhere near as energetic, and even capture the flag is a little more subdued, less peppered with shouts and playful competitiveness. There's a sense among the campers that they should be more careful, like the idea of someone like you getting injured has made them all realize that they're vulnerable.

The other campers make up for your lack, though: Demeter children care for the garden you were always in charge of, the kids from Aphrodite make common places of the camp cozy to the possible extent, and so on and so forth. Everyone tries their best at keeping the spirits up at the camp while you are recovering, but they really do miss your personal touch.

People find themselves visiting the hearth more often, looking to the proximity of the fire somehow reuniting them with you as you are out of commission. They will sit at the flames, muttering their apprehensions with crackling wood, thus hoping it be heard by Hestia herself for your recovery.

Nico di Angelo is particularly distressed by your hurt. He's not foreign to loss, but he has always looked upon you as a sort of anchor-someone who reminded him of peaceful things in life. The thought of losing you is a fear he doesn't want to admit to himself, and he'll be haunting the infirmary more often than he'd like, just to make sure you are still all right.

Your recovery means normalcy returns very grudgingly. As you get well enough to start your work, the energy in camp starts to return in homeopathic doses. When you're finally ready to join the others around the fire, there's celebration: full of treats and stories as campers press close to the flames now, as if to make up for lost time. You stand for a more complete warmer experience with the feeling that one weight has been removed from everyone's shoulder.

Your injury leaves an indelible mark on the camp. After you have regained your health, demigods are more cautious in battles and less often take superfluous risks in them, as they are more aware of the price for that. At the same time, your recovery becomes a beacon of resilience and the campers feel a deeper bonding knowing they've been through a rough time together.

[trainsinanime]

Is there a specific scientific term for what I'll call "harm construction", meaning "thinking of ways that something harms someone in order to condemn it"? There must be, right? I see it all the time and it's not new. Let me give some examples in random order.

One of the first cases where I really remember it was at least a decade ago, an online article by a British newspaper, about how an online store had put a pole dancing pole in their toys section. A bit of an embarrassing mistake but nothing more.

However, that article provided several quotes from a British couple who said they were very worried, because their kid could have seen that. It seems pretty clear that their kid did not, in fact, actually see it, but the newspaper treated their concern as if it was a genuine thing to worry about. It was utterly ridiculous.

A more recent example is a call-out ask I received a few months ago and, of course, immediately deleted, but it's still been living rent-free in my head since then, because it was so horribly bad. I'll not repeat the exact wording, but they were annoyed that their victim blog (which I don't follow and haven't for years, if ever, and they don't follow me) was annoying and sometimes said mean things. They very ineptly tried to explain that this might have been part of the reasons why someone else, completely unrelated, sent out hate messages to yet another person. That was the harm that was so big that it supposedly justified a targeted harassment campaign. (If you're the person who wrote that call-out ask, please rethink your life. You were only increasing the hate in the world, not making anything better. I suspect the sender wasn't anyone who actually follows me, but just in case).

The biggest and most prominent example of harm construction right now is of course all about trans people, bathrooms and school sports. Conservatives and TERFs alike need a reason to oppose the existence of trans people beyond "I personally find them weird", because saying that out loud gets them correctly branded as bigots. How do you turn "let's be really mean to a marginalised group" into a progressive cause? By saying that the existence of this group causes harm. The problem with that is that trans people existing does not actually cause any harm, it's literally fine.

So in an effort to construct harm after all, they have searched far and wide for something that trans people could even theoretically damage, and the only things they managed to come up with are "there might be someone with unexpected genitals behind that bathroom stall door" and "the sanctity of gender-segregated sports". If it weren't for their cultural and political power then it would almost be funny how little potential harm they managed to find and how much they have to amplify it. They're just another couple in the newspaper worried that their kid might potentially see a website.

If you look for it, harm construction is everywhere, because we all sort of agree on a surface level that dividing people into "normal, acceptable" and "weird, must be punished" isn't nice, but the instinct to punish people for being "weird" is still alive and well and many people refuse to question it.

At a completely different end, anytime someone uses the word "normalisation" about a fanfic on Ao3, that's another example. We all know making blorbos do weird things doesn't actually hurt anybody (assuming proper tagging and so on), but we still want to punish people who do it wrong. So we construct harm, by arguing that seeing something on Ao3 might "normalise" the thing and make it more likely that someone will do it in real life.

These examples are very different, at very different ends of almost all scales of power and cultural influence and meaning, but the core idea is always the same. So, yeah. There must be a better term for this.

[thegnomelord]

#32 with dombot!Alejandro, subbot!Rudy, and domtop!m!reader. reader find out Alejandro and Rudy made anonymous porn together before committing to the military

Sure thing dude, this got a bit of drama but it's mostly porn lol. I'm going to be taking reqs until 23:59 of December 1st so ya'll still have +- a day to request one of the remaining prompts. Play the game HERE

Prompt: Finding their OnlyFans account

CW: NSFW, reassuring sex(is that even a thing?), porn videos, riding, oral, cum eating. I wrote Spanish in italics.

The asses match.

Their asses match— is the only thing rolling in your skull, every other thought consumed by the high pitched moans ringing in your ears, your eyes focused not on the three masked sweaty bodies writhing against each other in coital bliss, but on a birthmark on one of their asses.

The same birthmark Alejandro has.

When some random dude texted you 'how does used pussy feel like? They're never going to forget me.' you thought it was a case of the mixed number. But then the guy sent you a series of porn videos and you would have ignored them besides having a chuckle at the shit titles- 'Latino twinks tamed by big cock' -had you not caught sight of a young guy with Alejandro's birthmark riding a cock in the thumbnail.

You ended clicking on the video. You shouldn't have.

One video lead you down a rabbit hole and it was like being a bystander at a car crash- a sort of morbid curiosity keeping you looking but unable to move your body. With their faces covered you couldn't tell their exact ages, but they looked young— no tattoos your fingers would absentmindedly trace, no scars you'd kiss, bodies still lean and soft.

You knew they had a life before you, you had no problem coming into their relationship nor did you think less of them... but it was still jarring at just how enthusiastic they were; legs shaking more than you could ever make them, riding the man and begging for 'more, more, more' like trained porn stars, moans loud and whiny like all the sense was fucked out of their heads, screaming out his name and clutching the bed for dear life.

The more you watch, the more you start comparing yourself with the guy in the videos, insecurity taking little nibbles on your mind for every difference you notice. You feel stupid for feeling this way, but your rational mind feels like it's being pushed through a shredder and you can't stop think—

Rudy's hand settles on your shoulder, rough but warm, and you jump out of your skin, leaping to your feet, eyes wide and phone clutched close to your chest like you'd just got caught looking at boobs in school.

"My life?" Rudy asks, confusion obvious on his face as his hand stays hovering in the air, once inviting but now reminding you of a hangman's noose. "Are you alright?" He asks.

"Yes!" You snap out on instinct, voice so rough and hard it makes him flinch back. You immediately back off, looking down with shame sitting like a boulder in your chest. "...no, I'm not."

You feel him close the distance, his calloused hands warm and gentle against your cheeks as he tilts your head to place a soft kiss on your lips before making you look at him. "Love, talk to me." He says, soft but firm.

"I...uh-" You shuffle your feet like a child, shoving your phone to him. "-this guy sent me this and... and I know it's you and Ale."

Rudy's eyes widen then narrow, face hard like he's facing off against a narco. He mutters something in Spanish that's too harsh and fast for you to fully understand, but you do catch a "-fucking bastard-" in the middle of it. Then he sighs, reaching down to tug you on sleeve, "Come here, my life."

He doesn't give you time to argue as he pulls you to the living room where Ale's watching football. "Hey, the match is starting, where have you two been?" He asks, but the second he looks at Rudy he's turning the TV off and you're left feeling like a kid at the principal's office while they quickly talk in Spanish.

"Alright," Alejandro breathes out, both of them turning their attention to you. "We may have filmed some pornos before we joined the military." He says, rubbing the back of his neck. "That motherfucker that texted you was a guy we'd collab with frequently."

You nod your head, indicating them to keep talking because your own voice fails you. They explain how the guy got too annoying to deal with, feeling entitled to their time and attention and wouldn't leave them alone when they dropped him. He hassles them once in a while.

Once they're done explaining it you stand there, gnawing on your lip, thoughts swirling in your head. Rudy comes closer to you, placing a hand on the back of your neck and your body leans into him like he's a spit of land in a raging ocean. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know." It's the best way you can explain the strange combination of emotions and thoughts, the only way.

"If it helps," Alejandro sides up to you, one hand brushing your cheek, "He wasn't the best at sex."

"He was shit." Rudy says simply. "Made us swear off opening the relationship for a while."

A snort of laughter leaps out of your throat, "How bad do you have to be to get you two to swear off it?" You ask,

"He'd jackhammer me like a bull and wouldn't take instructions." Rudy says point blank.

"That's blunt." Another chortle escapes you, the two joining you and it feels good to break the tense atmosphere, like clearing the stagnant water of a pond.

"It's the truth," Alejandro adds, "Couldn't tell you how often we had to fake it." He comes closer to grab and squeeze your hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

That makes your brows furrow, and you hate for showing how insecure you are but you can't help ask: "And with me? Do you-" They silence your voice and worry with a barrage of kisses, on your cheeks, your eyelids, brows, nose, and everything between, until you're responding in kind and you're all giggling like kids.

"How about we show you?" Alejandro suggests, smooth saccharine voice making Rudy's eyes darken and your heartbeat pick up. "Yes, my loves?"

You're distracted with hot kisses and firm touches to notice how you end up in the bedroom, only becoming aware of them takes a piece of clothing off along the way when you're sucking a hickey on a new piece of their bodies or when their lips are on yours, teeth nipping at your throat to suck matching hickeys on either sides of your neck while you fiddle with their belts.

You tumble into the wide bed, a mess of limbs that acted in sync like one living creature, your motions slow and firm and real as you slowly stretched out Rudy, your fingers slick with abundant lube and drawing soft, pleased sounds that Rudy moaned against Ale's hard cock. "You look so good, my loves." Alejandro breaths out, braced against the headboard and a pillow under his hips to give Rudy access to his hole.

"So good for me," You hum, insistently rubbing Ruby's prostate with your fingers and stroking his hard cock, your mind getting drunk off the way he tilts his hips into your hand and sighs, his tongue eagerly flicking around Alejandro's rim, letting himself be moved by Ale's hand in his hair to where Ale wants him. "You're squeezing so well around me." You kiss the swell of his ass, getting Rudy to squeeze harder around your fingers to prove your point.

Sliding your cock into Rudy until your balls rest against his makes all of you groan, spreading his walls open so well he moans into Ale's ass. You drape your body over Rudy's pinning him down like you know he loves, your eyes meeting Alejandro's as you pump your cock into Rudy's spasming walls, milking drops of pre with every thrust that has your cock bashing against his prostate.

"Go on, make our sky cum." Ale grins, roughly fisting his cock, mind swimming with pleasure from Rudy's tongue playing at his rim and the sight of you two so disheveled, flushed with heat and eyes hazy. It's his favorite part of sex— getting to see you and Rudy succumb to pleasure, freely giving as much as you take.

You nod, increasing your pace, balls slapping against his and hitting his special spot with the precision of a marksman, bullying your cock inside him until he's whining and moaning your name against Ale's skin, not as loud as he was in the porn video but much more real, body and soul bared to take what you give and you give and give and give until you push him over the edge, his cock twitching in your hand and spewing seed on the sheets, pulling you down with him and you don't attempt to pull out, shoving yourself balls deep and flooding his belly with your cum.

You breathe to catch your breath before reaching over to help Alejandro cum too, but he bats your hand away. "No, no, no, I have another idea." He grins, the confident lust in his eyes making you harden up in an instant and you know the second Rudy notices it when he clenches around you, his walls giving a wet creamy 'squelch' around you. "Can you two keep up?"

You let Ale push you onto your back, supporting Rudy's hips and uncaring of your cum dripping down on your face as you swiftly pull him down to sit on your face, tongue darting out to eat him out. "Oh fuck- my love-" Rudy groans and unashamedly grinds his hips into your mouth, your tongue delving deep to scoop out your cum, swallowing it without complaint just to feel his walls quiver pitifully around your tongue.

"So good for us." Ale's quick to kiss him, straddling your hips, holding you by the base as he slinks down, hissing against Rudy's mouth at the burning stretch. He relishes the stretch, the feeling of having his body yield to yours, but more importantly he relishes how perceptive you are even when smothered in Rudy's perfect ass, bucking your hips into Ale's when he tries to rise up so you nail his prostate.

"Fuck-" Rudy whines, switching between your and Ale's names, hands roaming every inch of both of your skin while you continue to eat him out, making him spasm and twitch with overstimulation, his heart flutter at how eagerly you pleasure him, his cheeks and ears burning from just how wet you sound underneath him, your throat and jaw wet with spit and cum.

Alejandro sets a hard pace, hands bracing against your stomach to give him perfect balance to rise his hips until your tip's kissing his pulsing entrance and then dropping down, grounding out a rough "Yes, there-" when you buck your hips up to meet him halfway.

You float in bliss, your brain melting through your cock and skull pleasantly empty of everything other than them, though that might be because of slowly depleting oxygen, but you'd be happy to die like this if it made Rudy moan like he's doing now. Ale's tight heat makes you groan, feeling both of them flutter and clench around you, feeding the burning heat in your belly and fuck you're approaching your peak quickly.

You don't know who cums first but it triggers a chain reaction, liquid pleasure rushing like a heatwave through your veins until you're shooting your cum deep into Alejandro's spasming walls that milk you until you've deposited your last drop inside him.

You're all so exhausted you end up leaving washing up for morning, pulling the two men close to you. Rudy's already conked out and sleeping on your chest, lightly drooling.

"Adorable." Alejandro lazily runs his fingers through Rudy's hair, draped over your body, and you see his eyes are starting to droop just like yours.

"I love you." You say in Spanish, your heart doing a fluttering beat at the way Alejandro grins and nuzzles his head into your neck, laying a soft kiss between the numerous bruises they've left.

"I love you too. Both of you." That's the last thing you hear before you fall asleep...

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 16: CUPID'S CHOKEHOLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

His touch ignites something within you - a spark of desire you've been trying to suppress for far too long. The want in you hurts. The frustration, the anger, the tenderness, it all boils within the core of you. It’s all coming to a head.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: mentions of pregnancy, angst, dom!reader, sub!satoru, handjobs, riding, teasing, light degradation, dacryphilia, vaginal sex

ੈ✩ wc: 8.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: happy thanksgiving yall can stop threatening me with bombs now

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

December, 2011

The crisp December air nips at your cheeks as you lead Megumi and Tsumiki down the bustling street. Christmas decorations twinkle in shop windows. You pull your scarf tighter, glancing back to make sure the children are keeping up.

Megumi trudges along, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his expression as serious as ever. Tsumiki, by contrast, practically skips beside you, her eyes wide with wonder at the festive displays. They both wear matching blushes, the cold painting their pale cheeks the same roseate pink.

"Can we get taiyaki?" Tsumiki asks, tugging on your sleeve and pointing to a small shop ahead.

You smile down at her. "Of course. What about you, Megumi? What would you like?"

The boy shrugs, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Whatever's fine."

You lead them into the warmth of the taiyaki shop, the sweet aroma of red bean paste and custard filling the air. As you wait in line, you crouch down to Megumi's level.

"You know," you say softly, ruffling his hair, "it's okay to want things, Megumi. To have preferences. You don't always have to go along with what everyone else wants."

He looks at you, surprise flashing across his face before his usual stoic expression returns. "I... I like the chocolate ones," he admits quietly.

You scratch his head affectionately. "Chocolate it is, then."

You place your order - custard for Tsumiki, chocolate for Megumi, and red bean for yourself. Afterwards, you find a bench in a nearby park to enjoy your treats. Tsumiki chatters away about her upcoming school play, while Megumi listens intently, occasionally nodding or offering a quiet comment.

"You’re gonna stay with us for the holidays, right? Are you gonna move in?" Tsumiki asks suddenly, her voice hopeful.

The question catches you off guard, and you fumble for an answer. "Um, yeah, I will. Stay, that is. And you guys know you can always just knock on my door downstairs."

You’d agreed to stay until the semester ended in the spring. You’d been around for a little over a month, but you already had your doubts about going back to Kyoto. Already, you found yourself looking forward to getting up in the morning while in Tokyo, seasonal depression be damned. You tell yourself it’s not because of the white-haired sorcerer that occupies your thoughts constantly — it’s the familiarity of the city. And the kids, of course.

To both Tsumiki and Satoru’s dismay (and a slight frown from Megumi), you decided to take the offer of an apartment the floor below them. It wasn’t exactly vacant, as Satoru claimed — the previous tenant, a well-off socialite of some sort, needed a sublet. You needed your own space from Satoru for your own sanity, and he was willing to pay the rent for the allotted time you could be there.

Tsumiki pouts. “But it’s easier if you just live in our apartment!”

“I can’t do that since you’ve converted the spare room into yours with all your dolls laying around,” you snort. Tsumiki opens her mouth to protest but decides against it, considering you have a point.

“Hmph. Still. You can sleep in Satoru’s room, right? It’s so big!”

Your face nearly pales at the suggestion, ironically. As if it was something scandalous, which perhaps it would be considering your complicated relationship. You’re sure he’d be thrilled if you brought it up.

Megumi looks up at you, his green eyes serious. "We like having you here," he says softly. "Satoru-san is... different when you're around. Better."

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. "Better?"

Tsumiki nods enthusiastically. "He smiles more! And he doesn't forget to make breakfast as much."

You chuckle, imagining Satoru's indignant expression if he could hear this conversation. "Well, I'm glad I can help. But Satoru cares about you both very much, you know."

As if on cue, your phone buzzes with a photo attachment from him. There’s a boiling pot of… something, on the stove.

satoru: you guys aren’t going to leave me to eat by myself, are you????? ^-^

you: we’ll be home soon. the kids wanted taiyaki

satoru: don’t help them spoil their dinner :(

you: it’s probably more edible than what you’re making

satoru: :( say that to my face at least :(

You chuckle, locking your phone. “C’mon, guys. Let’s get home before Satoru burns down the kitchen.”

As you walk back home with Megumi and Tsumiki, their words echo in your mind. The realization that you've become such an integral part of their lives fills you with a trepidation, but also tenderness. You've been careful not to overstep, to maintain some semblance of boundaries, but the lines have been blurring more and more each day.

The apartment is warm and inviting when you return, the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. You help the kids out of their winter gear, hanging up coats and scarves as they rush to see what Satoru is cooking.

You follow more slowly, pausing in the doorway to take in the scene. Satoru stands at the stove, stirring something in a large pot. His hair is slightly mussed, and he's wearing the ridiculous "Kiss the Cook" apron you bought him as a joke for his birthday. 

Satoru looks up, catching your eye. His face breaks into a warm smile, one that reaches his eyes and makes your heart skip a beat.

"Welcome home," he says softly. “Did you guys have fun?”

Tsumiki launches into an excited recounting of your afternoon, while Megumi nods along, occasionally adding a quiet comment. Satoru listens attentively, his expression softening as he watches the children.

You move into the kitchen, drawn by the warmth and the tantalizing aroma. "What's for dinner?" you ask, peering into the pot.

"Curry," Satoru announces proudly. "My specialty."

You raise an eyebrow skeptically. "Since when is curry your specialty?"

He grins, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. "Since I found your recipe book and followed the instructions very, very carefully."

His breath tickles your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You playfully push him away, ignoring the knowing look Tsumiki gives you.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation flows easily. Megumi talks about a new technique he's been practicing, while Tsumiki regales you with tales from her drama club. Satoru watches it all with a contented smile, occasionally catching your eye across the table.

Later, after the kids have gone to bed, you find yourself alone with Satoru in the living room. He's sprawled on the couch, his head in your lap as you absently run your fingers through his hair.

Satoru stretches languidly, cat-like. The movement causes his shirt to ride up slightly, revealing his stomach. You force yourself to look away, busying yourself with whatever’s on the television.

“So," Satoru says, his voice low and teasing, "what do you want for Christmas?"

You look down to face him, scoffing. "Who says I'm expecting anything from you?"

He grins that cocky, infuriating grin that still makes your stomach flip. "Come on, Twigs. There must be something you want."

“Haven’t really thought about it.

“C’mon. You must have.”

You weigh your words carefully. "How about... a nice, quiet evening, where you don’t bother me with your bullshit?"

Satoru laughs, his blue eyes warm as he regards you. "I think that can be arranged," he says softly.

He gets closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so tender, so intimate, that you find yourself leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

"You know," Satoru murmurs, his voice low, "the kids were asking me the other day if you were going to be their new mom."

Your breath catches in your throat. You narrow your eyes. "That’s not funny."

“What? Their words, not mine.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. "Satoru, we've talked about this. We can't just jump into playing house. It's not fair to the kids."

He sits up, his expression suddenly serious. "I know. But... is it so crazy to think about? Us, together, raising them? I mean, we’ve already been doing it, basically, right?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you. You can feel your heart racing, a mix of longing and fear swirling in your chest.

"It's not crazy," you admit softly. "But it's complicated. We have a lot of history, Satoru. A lot of things we still need to work through. Also, you’re freshly twenty-two. That’s hardly the age to be a considered a guardian."

“But I am their guardian!” he frowns. “And your mom’s pretty young. Didn’t she have you around our age?”

“That’s not even — we’re going off topic. This isn’t about me having a kid,” you blush, the brief thought of mothering a child of your own with Satoru send a brief shock to your chest. “Just relax, okay? Take things slow.”

Satoru intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. "Slow," he agrees. "I can do slow."

But even as he says it, you can see the mischievous glint in his eye. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But just so you know, I'm not very good at being patient."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully. "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Gojo Satoru."

He grins, pulling you closer until you're practically in his lap. "Can you blame me? Do you have any idea how irresistible you are?"

Your breath hitches as his hand trails up your thigh. "Satoru," you warn, but there's no real heat behind it.

"What?" he asks innocently. "I'm behaving. This is me behaving."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming, you mean," he quips, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your neck.

You shiver at the contact, your resolve weakening with each passing moment. "The kids," you remind him weakly.

"Are fast asleep," he murmurs against your skin. "And I can be very, very quiet when I need to be."

“Speaking of asleep,” you say quickly, leaning away. “That’s exactly what I need to be right now.”

He lets out a noise in between a groan and a whine, which you would rebuke more efficiently if the sound didn’t make heat settle in the pit of your stomach.

“You still didn’t give me my birthday present,” he murmurs. You don’t miss the suggestiveness in his gaze.

“I didn’t say I’d fuck you.”

“You kind of did,” he pouts.

“You’re still on that, huh? I was teasing you. And drunk.”

The last time you’d went out for drinks with him and Shoko, you’d gone home with him in a good mood, apparently good enough to let him be handsy. He took whatever crumbs he could get from you, played the part of a good dog after he had a few fruity cocktails. You let him kiss you on the side of your mouth and you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Even if he’d shut up, the puppy-dog looks he’d throw you would push you over the edge.

“You tease me every damn day by existing. I should banish you.”

“Right. Like you’d survive more time apart from me,” you snort.

“Of course not,” he rolls his eyes. “I love you too much.”

You meet his gaze, face warming at the casualness of his declaration. This is Satoru stripped bare, all his walls down, offering you his heart. It’s still something you’re not used to — the way he gives affection so easily. He always had, of course, but never so candid in sincerity.

It made you sick almost, like being sugar-drunk on something much too decadent. Humiliated you with how warm it made you, your tongue heavy as lead in your mouth like a teenager again.

“Oh?” Satoru grins. “Did that get you going?”

“No. Shut up.”

“You like that. Noted.”

You scoff, rising from the couch. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart!” he calls after you. “Love you.”

“Goodnight, weirdo,” you huff, trudging your feet towards the door. You pause as you touch the doorknob before turning around. “I love you too.”

You leave too quickly to gauge his reaction, but you feel his smile burn into the back of your neck.

__

You come home to Jiji rubbing his head against your shin. He was still small — a runt, resembling more like a soot sprite than the Ghibli cat he was named after. He acted a lot like Megumi, truthfully. Clung to you, bombarded your space especially if Satoru was around.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you coo, scooping the cat from the floor to nuzzle. “You miss the kids, don’t you?”

He mews at you as if to say yes and you grin. You make your way upstairs, Jiji’s head tucked in your shoulder as you unlock Satoru’s apartment with your spare key.

Satoru is already in the kitchen, hair tousled from the day’s mission. His eyes light up when he sees you walk in. “Twigs! Ready for Operation Birthday Boy?” he grins, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Before you can greet him properly, your gaze drifts over the amount of balloons and streamers haphazardly aligning the walls. Many are Digimon-themed, despite knowing full well that Megumi preferred Pokemon, but that isn’t an argument that was worth having with Satoru unless you wanted him to revert to his child-self.

“You… went all out,” you mutter, still examining the expanse of the living room. There were streamers every color under the sun strung around, comically bright in contrast with the luxury apartments plain white walls.

The smell of cake batter and melting chocolate permeates through the air. You notice then as you step closer towards Satoru that the Italian marble of the kitchen island is dusted with flour. You groan.

“Satoru, I thought we were picking up a cake—”

“But a homemade one has more love!” he scoffs. He’s made a mess of his apron, not to mention there was a streak of pink frosting on his cheekbone.

“And who said you were qualified enough to bake?”

“Hey! I’m trying here! And don’t worry, I’m not making dinner, obviously. We still have to pick up the hors d’oeuvres from the catering place—”

“What? We’re celebrating a nine-year-old.”

“You get expensive taste when you live with me,” he shrugs. “You like oysters, right? I heard it’s a really good aphrodisiac— ow!”

He flinches when you flick him in the forehead. He pouts, rubbing his head as if you’d actually inflicted damage on him.

“The hell was that for?”

You ignore his question. “Where are the kids? It’s like… dinner time. School should be out by now.”

“I told Shoko to pick them up and stall. I’m still preparing.”

“Satoru — seriously? You decided to make the cake right before we celebrate?”

“It won’t take long! This is a state-of-the-art oven for your information!” Satoru scoffs, rinsing his hands in the sink. The amount of flour on the marble of the island makes you cringe. And was that… an egg yolk stain in the corner?

“That doesn’t mean—”

The oven beeps as if to taunt you. Satoru grins, putting on oven mitts that are comically too small for him to take out the cake. It’s certainly cake-shaped despite the lumpy bubbles on top.

“Wanna help me decorate the cake for the birthday boy?”

You move in front of him, shooing him away. He pouts again, the expression making you want to simultaneously hit him and kiss him, and hands you a butter knife and a tub of mint green frosting.

“Go crazy, Twigs,” he sighs. “I should shower anyway.”

You take the time to meticulously cover the entirety of the chocolate cake in the frosting, with Happy Birthday, Megumi! in loopy script in the middle. You’re quick to clean the rest of the kitchen, still reeling from how much of a mess Satoru managed to make in your absence.

By the time Satoru emerges from his bedroom, the kitchen is mostly clean, and he steps into the room in a crisp baby-blue dress shirt and black slacks. You try to ignore the fluttering sensation in your belly at the sight of it. It was your favorite outfit on him and he probably wore it knowing that. You huff lightly, looking away.

You gain reprieve from his teasing when you hear the door open. More balloons float into the room, all bound in Tsumiki’s small hand as she walks in with Shoko and Megumi.

“Happy birthday, Megumi-kun!” you exclaim in glee, walking towards him for a hug. He smiles brightly, blushing as he hugs you back.

Satoru notices the takeout boxes in Shoko’s hands and raises a brow. “You took them to eat dinner already?”

“Obviously. They definitely weren’t going to eat the foie gras you ordered or whatever the fuck,” she snorts. “But more for the adults, eh?”

“Can you not swear around them –”

“I knew the word fuck before!” Tsumiki beams. You share an exasperated look with Satoru, but he’s only holding in a laugh.

As Shoko and Satoru get the kids settled, you lock Jiji in the spare room to prevent Megumi’s Divine dogs from chasing the poor thing. They were all bared teeth, bright eyes. Still puppies, still young like the kids. 

Afterwards, you return to the living room just in time for Satoru to bring out the cake with pastel lit candles atop of it.

Megumi is quiet as everyone shrouds him, gazing at the birthday cake like he’s never seen one before. He hasn’t really — maybe he did when his parents were still together and alive and didn’t fuck off to somewhere else, he doesn’t know — but even he did, he wouldn’t remember. He had only known shared dandelion wishes with Tsumiki, fuzzy memories of Toji patting his head when on his sixth birthday.

You look at him now and you see a child who doesn’t know what to do with all the love surrounding him, and the sight reminds you of yourself.

“Make a wish, Megumi,” you say softly. He looks up at you with wide eyes as if making a wish were to make a sacrifice. He closes his eyes and blows the candles out, smiling softly as everyone claps.

You lean back on the couch as you watch him unwrap his presents, which include an abundance of hastily-wrapped boxes from Satoru. Toya and electronics that the kid probably haven’t dreamt of owning. Satoru was still young in his own right and it showed in his animated way of speaking, excitedly presenting his gifts to Megumi like he was an older brother. Your chest feels uncharacteristically warm as you watch.

You, Satoru, and Shoko watch as the kids play amongst themselves, indulging yourselves in the catering that Satoru had bought, which was more of a luxury takeout order more than anything. The bottle of wine that Shoko had brought makes you able to tolerate Satoru’s antics. You refuse to admit to him, but you even find him endearing tonight.

After the ordeal, Shoko hugs you and departs to her own apartment, while Satoru entertains the kids with a new video game console he’d bought for Megumi. After cleaning, Satoru insists in you joining, which results in many competitive games of Super Street Fighter IV.

Tsumiki is the first to doze off on the couch, her head cradled in your lap as you stroke her hair gently.

“Hey, kid,” Satoru whispers to Megumi, “Looks like your sister’s knocked out. It’s about time for bed, don’t ya think?”

“But I wanted to play more Final Fantasy!” Megumi whines.

“We can play some more tomorrow,” you quip. “It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” he pouts, taking your hand as you lead him to his bedroom.

Satoru is lounging on the couch once you return, grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just a good mom.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not their mom.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Told you we’re not playing house, Satoru,” you scoff, slumping your body into the couch next him.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m just complimenting your ability to rein in some brats.”

“Had a lot of practice from you.”

He laughs.

You glance at him, noticing his mussed-up hair, the soft wrinkles of his button-down. He looked more grown-up than he meant to be. It wasn’t that Satoru looked particularly mature, but seeing him slightly disheveled after handling Megumi’s birthday made him look older than how you’d seen him in earlier years — childish, boyish. In the light of the dim lamp beside him, he looked like a man with responsibilities.

It was like seeing him in the future. But you’re here now, in his apartment, in the present, and the sight of him looking so domestic is doing awful things to your heart.

“You’re… really good with them, too, you know. You don’t really need me,” you murmur.

“Huh?” Satoru raises his brows. “No. Of course I need you.”

You almost blush at that. You’re glad for the wine that he’s given you, relaxing your muscles, giving you an excuse for the flush in your cheeks.

“You can do it on your own, though,” you say softly. “You’re just… better at this than I thought you’d be. It’s admirable. That’s all.”

His gaze softens. “Thanks, Twigs. That means a lot.”

He looks at you then, almost amused, as if the concept of a compliment from you had been completely unheard of. As if the notion alone made him flattered enough to forget humility. (Though, you’re sure the prodigal Satoru Gojo has never known humility.)

“So you’re praising me, then? Do I win best babysitter of the year?” he chuckles.

“Sure. Whatever,” you snort. “Don’t get such a big head about it.”

“Oh, but I must. You think I’m a complete disaster usually, but you’re telling me I was good with the kids tonight? My head is huge, Twigs.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. Trying to hide the way your stomach feels hotter when you look at him and his charming grin. He looks back at you with an expression that makes your pulse go faster.

“You’re cute.”

You blink at him. His voice is heady and husky, his gaze soft. Tentative as he leans in, clearly wary that he’d spook you by crossing the invisible line you’ve set since you decided to move back to Tokyo.

“Speechless, baby?” he drawls. “I didn’t even try hard at flirting this time.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, paying more attention to your glass of wine. “You’re hardly seducing me right now.”

“Never said I was trying to,” he murmurs, leaning into you. His hand is on your knee and you don’t swat him away, for once. In his mind, this is progress.

“But you’re always trying to.” You narrow your eyes.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

He hums, the vibration of his voice like warm honey. “Mm. Am not.”

“Okay. I’m going to bed now.” You rise from the couch, but Satoru catches your wrist in his large, pale hand. You look at him with a brow raised.

“Sleep here tonight?”

“No.”

“C’mon. Please? I won’t try anything.”

You contemplate. You aren’t truly at the brink of exhaustion, but the demands Yaga-sensei made of you at school had started to become one of your main stressors. You’re tired. You definitely don’t feel like going downstairs to your own apartment, Jiji in hand, having to clean up the mess in your own space that you ignored in lieu of preparing for Megumi’s birthday.

You swallow, clenching your jaw. “Fine. I’m feeling lazy tonight.”

Satoru smiles wide, flashing his white teeth. Angel-headed under the soft glow of the lamp. You have to look away before your stomach stirs with something you’ll ruminate over.

“Stay in my bed?”

“Satoru—”

“Come on. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. Also, the spare room is a mess. The kids made a blanket fort in there last night that is yet to be deconstructed.”

“Okay. Whatever,” you mutter, retreating to the bathroom to freshen up. Afterwards, you return to Jiji and scoop him up in your arms, pleased at the way the cat nuzzles into your face.

You step into Satoru's bedroom, immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of the space. The bed is enormous, draped in crisp white sheets that look almost too pristine to touch. It smells faintly of him—clean, like fresh linen and a hint of something sharp and sweet, like cedarwood mixed with sugar. You’re already regretting this decision, though perhaps not entirely for the reasons you’d like to admit.

You undress and change into one of his t-shirts before crawling into his bed. Satoru follows you in shortly after, pausing in the doorway with an infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face.

“You know,” he begins, leaning casually against the frame as he folds his arms across his chest, “I didn’t think my birthday present would be you gracing me with your presence in my bed tonight, but honestly? Best gift ever.”

You glare at him from over your shoulder as you set Jiji down on the floor. The little cat immediately darts under Satoru’s bed for refuge—likely avoiding any further encounters with Megumi’s Divine dogs, or perhaps the bubbling conflict in the room itself.

“Your birthday was weeks ago. Don’t push your luck,” you warn flatly. “I gave in because I’m tired. This isn’t some… romantic gesture.”

“Oh, sure,” he teases, taking a few steps closer until he towers over you. His voice drops to a playful murmur as he gleefully adds, “But it could be.”

You groan audibly and climb onto the far side of the bed—intentionally as far away from him as possible—and tug the edge of the comforter over yourself without sparing him another glance. "Goodnight, Satoru."

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, pulling off his socks and tossing them carelessly across the room. He casually strips off his shirt and pants, throwing them somewhere near the hamper – not inside it, of course – before flopping down beside you like a content cat. He stretches out languidly, one arm tucked behind his head as he turns to watch you. You try not to dwell on the fact that he’s beside you, only in his boxers.

The room falls quiet save for the soft hum of the heater kicking on and Jiji occasionally rustling beneath the bed. You shut your eyes tightly and try to relax, but there’s no ignoring how aware you are of Satoru's presence beside you—the way his breathing evens out gradually or how his arm brushes yours when he shifts.

Minutes pass in silence before he finally speaks again, his voice softer this time—devoid of its usual teasing edge. “You really think I’m good with them? Megumi and Tsumiki?”

You open your eyes but don’t immediately respond. There’s something vulnerable about his tone that catches you off guard—a rare glimpse at the pieces of himself he so often keeps hidden beneath his bravado.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly after a pause. Turning your head slightly to look at him in the dim light filtering through the curtains, you add honestly, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

He turns his head toward you now too, studying you intently. For a second, neither of you speak. His gaze holds yours long enough for your chest to tighten uncomfortably under its weight.

“You’re good for them too,” he says softly after what feels like an eternity. His voice has lost all pretense now—it’s raw and earnest in a way that has always made you feel unsteady around him. "For us."

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Silence falls over you both, but you can still feel Satoru’s begging eyes boring into your skull. You look over to him and it feels like his blue eyes are glowing in the dark. He strips his gaze from you and looks up at the ceiling instead, feigning a casual demeanor.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken tension. You can feel the heat radiating from Satoru's body, achingly close yet still too far. His eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, are dark and intense as they roam over your face.

"Twigs," he murmurs, his voice low. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, you roll over to face him. In the dim light, his eyes are impossibly blue, gleaming with an intensity that makes your breath catch. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your cheek with a tenderness that surprises you.

"I meant what I said," Satoru continues, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "You're good for us. For me."

He moves closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as his thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone. You can feel his breath, warm against your skin, as he leans in.

You swallow hard. "Satoru," you warn, but your voice lacks conviction.

He sighs but leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Please."

You know you should push him away. You know this is dangerous territory, that you're teetering on the edge of something irreversible. You’re too stubborn for your own good, both you and Satoru know this. It’s why you curl into his chest instead of pressing your mouth to his. The fear of falling into his charm is futile, especially with how much you want him, frustratingly so.

Satoru's hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, it occurs to you how close you are to him, how intimate this feels. The air between you feels charged, electric.

He says your name, this time, bedroom-soft. Not Twigs, not baby, but your name.

Instead of shying away as you normally might, something shifts inside you. Maybe it's the wine from earlier, or the vulnerability in Satoru's voice, or simply the culmination of months of unresolved tension. Whatever it is, it emboldens you.

His touch ignites something within you - a spark of desire you've been trying to suppress for far too long. The want in you hurts. The frustration, the anger, the tenderness, it all boils within the core of you. It’s all coming to head. When you hear the way Satoru says your name, you decide that you need catharsis.

In one fluid motion, you grab Satoru’s wrist, pinning it above his head as you roll on top of him. His eyes widen in surprise, lips parting in a soft gasp.

"Is this what you want, Satoru?" you breathe, your face inches from his. "Is this why you've been pushing so hard?"

"W-what are you doing?" he stammers, caught off guard by your sudden assertiveness.

Your free hand trails down his chest, fingernails scraping lightly against the skin of his bare chest. Satoru shudders beneath you, his body arching into your touch. You can feel his heart racing, see the flush creeping up his neck under the pale moonlight.

"You talk a big game," you murmur. "But can you handle it when someone else takes control?"

Satoru swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Try me," he challenges, but there's a tremor in his voice that betrays his nervousness.

You pull back, meeting his gaze with a taunting smile. Slowly, deliberately, you grind your hips against his, eliciting a low moan from Satoru. His free hand moves to grip your waist, but you catch it, pinning both his wrists above his head.

"No,” you chastise. "No touching unless I say so."

Satoru's eyes darken with desire, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You're killing me, Twigs," he groans.

"Good," you purr, leaning down to nip his jaw. 

You take your time exploring his body with your hands, savoring every gasp and shudder you draw from him as if it’s the first time you’ve touched him. Satoru writhes beneath you, struggling against your grip, desperate for more contact. But you maintain control, setting a torturously slow pace that has him practically begging.

"Please," he whimpers, his usual cockiness completely shattered. "I need you."

You smile against his skin, enjoying this newfound power. You scoff. "I thought you said you could do slow?"

He lets out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow. "That was before I knew how evil you could be."

"Evil?" you chuckle, trailing your fingers down his chest. "I'm barely taunting you. If anything, I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

You lean in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Besides, I thought you liked it when I took charge."

Satoru shivers beneath you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "I do," he admits, his voice strained. "God, I do."

You smile, a predatory glint in your eyes as you slowly grind against him. The friction draws a low moan from Satoru, his hips bucking up involuntarily. He can feel the warmth of your core, your heat against his cock with only two layers of fabric separating him from what he truly wants.

You tsk, pressing him firmly back down onto the mattress.

"Stay still," you command. "Or I'll stop altogether."

With deliberate slowness, you trail your fingers down his chest, savoring the way his muscles quiver beneath your touch. Satoru's breathing grows ragged as your hand dips lower, tracing the V of his hips before stopping just short of where he wants – no, needs you most.

"Twigs," he groans, frustration evident in his voice. "Stop teasing."

You laugh, nipping at his collarbone. "But you make it so fun, Satoru."

Your free hand ghosts over the front of his boxers, barely applying pressure. Satoru's hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, but you pull away with a wicked grin.

“I told you I’d stop if you misbehave.”

Satoru's eyes flash with a mix of desire and defiance. "You wouldn't dare."

You raise an eyebrow, accepting his challenge. Slowly, you begin to pull away, but Satoru's words tumble out in a rush.

"Wait!” he gasps, panicked. “I'm sorry, I'll be good. Please, don't stop."

The desperation in his voice sends a thrill through you. You've never seen Satoru like this - completely at your mercy, his usual bravado stripped away. Even in the dark, his eyes usually glow aquamarine, but right now pools of onyx stare back at you underneath heavy white lashes.

"That's better," you murmur, rewarding him with a slow, sensual kiss. He whines into it, licks into your mouth like he’s begging you to eat him whole. 

You take your time with him mapping every dip and curve of his upper body with your lips and tongue. Satoru writhes beneath you, soft whimpers escaping him as you lavish attention on his most sensitive spots.

When you finally free him from his boxers, Satoru lets out a sigh of relief. But instead of giving him what he wants, you continue your slow pace, placing feather-light kisses along his inner thighs. He huffs when you press his thumb against his leaking slit, while you look at him with a grin as you apply pressure.

“You have such a pretty cock, Satoru.”

His face gets even warmer, if that was possible. “Sh-shut up–”

You raise your brows. “What was that, sweetheart?”

His eyes widen aa your mean expression. "N-Nothing! I’m sorry. Just – please," Satoru begs, his voice hoarse. "I need you. I need—"

You silence him with a finger to his lips. "Shh. The kids are sleeping, remember? We wouldn't want to wake them, would we?"

Satoru's breath hitches at the reminder, and he bites his lip to stifle a moan as he watches you spit on his cock, finally wrapping your hand around him. You set a maddeningly slow rhythm, watching with satisfaction as Satoru struggles to keep quiet. Your mouth grazes him, only barely. He needs you around him, completely. His cock is fucking aching for it.

A whine escapes Satoru's throat, his hips jerking upward. "Twigs, please. I can't— I need—"

Cruelly, you cover his mouth with your palm. You have half the mind to gag him. You’re tempted to, really, but you’ve already slipped off your panties and thrown them somewhere across the room.

“Baby—”

“Stop fucking talking,” you hiss, your hand around his throat. He gasps, looks at you with half-lidded eyes. Mouth parted. Lovestruck. “Be good.”

He complies, whimpering softly instead of pleading with useless words. You watch his eyes roll back as your hand moves from his shaft to his tip, your spit lubricating his twitching cock along with the precum collecting at the top.

You savor the power you hold over him, watching his chest heave with each labored breath. Satoru's usual cockiness has evaporated, leaving him vulnerable and needy beneath you. It's intoxicating.

You can feel him trembling beneath you, every muscle taut with the effort of staying quiet. His hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, eyes shut tight. You release his throat, trailing your fingers down his chest as you position yourself above him.

"Look at me," you command softly.

Satoru's eyes flutter open, hazy with desire. His hands graze your waist tentatively, smoothing over the soft skin over your ribs underneath the t-shirt (his t-shirt) that clings loosely to your frame.

He can almost feel how wet you are, he swears it. His Six Eyes can see everything from the tremble of your pulse, sensing how much your desires are waiting to jump out of your skin. The wetness of your pink mouth. He feels delirious with want, deluded, maybe, just from the intensity of his senses as he takes in your presence.

He could be hallucinating how intense it all really is. He isn’t sure — he’s too drunk on the fact that you’re in his lap at all, partially bare. Your bare cunt hovering over his cock. Taunting. Fucking tease. If he wanted, he could flip you over and restrain you. Have your hands yanked to your lower back, make you yelp like a slut.

But he doesn’t. He’s already a mess for you, no matter what you intend to do to him. He knows there’s something so awful inside of him that’s waiting to crawl out something only you can coax out.

When you look at him with moonlight reflecting in your pupils, the desire overtakes him. Despite himself, he rises him to meet your mouth, desperate for a kiss or any semblance of one, but your hand tightens around his throat. He moans at the pressure of it and blushes, embarrassed. He whines.

“Ha. Nice try. You’re so fucking eager, huh? Missed me that much?” you taunt. It’s cruel and you know it. You’ve known how much he’s wanted you — you’ve defied it when he’s been too candid about it. And now, while his heart is on his sleeve with your name in the center, you tease him.

He would take you over his knee for it if he wasn’t fucking melting underneath you.

“Of course I missed you,” Satoru grits.

“Oooh, so feisty. You look like an angry dog, you know that?” you sneer.

“Belittle me all you want,” he narrows his eyes, “Just let me — fuck —”

He perks up his head and tries to kiss you but you reject him. He has to stifle a groan. His resolve is crumbling into nothingness.

“Please fuck me,” he gasps. “Or just kiss me. Do anything you want. I just — I don’t care. I need you —”

Satoru writhes against the bedsheets. Grits his teeth, baring his canines like a dog ready to fight. But you’re as gentle as you are evil, able to weaken his efforts just by the slight tilt of your plump mouth. A knowing smirk.

“You need me?” you laugh.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Need you. Only you —”

You spit and he watches the drool cascade down to his aching cock. His eyes widen, mesmerized and choked up as you stroke him. He shudders, body arching towards you at the contact.

“Oh, fuck—” he breathes, unable to form words. Your hand feels better than his own. The warmth of your body above him makes his blood sing.

He pants pathetically as you grin down at him with wolf-teeth. He could cry from your touch alone.

"Relax," you breathe, leaning down to nip at his earlobe. "I'll give you what you need."

“Can’t relax — need — ah!” he whimpers. “Please, please —”

“Are you begging?” you taunt, laughing.

“Yes!” he groans.

You hold his gaze as you slowly sink down onto him, savoring the stretch and fullness. A strangled sound escapes him, quickly muffled as he bites down on his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

You roll your hips carefully, rising and falling with agonizing slowness. Satoru's hips twitch upwards, seeking more, but you pin them down firmly. Your movements are languid as you relish each tiny gasp and stifled moan you draw from him.

You gradually increase your speed, grinding down harder with each thrust. Satoru's breathing grows ragged, his chest heaving. You can feel him getting close, see it in the tension of his jaw and the desperation in his eyes.

Just as he's about to fall over the edge, you slow to a stop. Satoru lets out a frustrated whine, cut off as you press your lips to his in a bruising kiss.

"Not yet," you murmur against his mouth. "I'm not done with you."

“I’m so — fuck,” he slurs, “So close —”

“That’s too bad. Fucking wait.”

His cock throbs at your tone. Your face is calm, tauntingly so, but your voice is cutting with authority.

“God, if I wasn’t so in love with you right now I’d be giving you the worst spanking you’ve ever—” You cut Satoru off, shoving your fingers in his mouth. His eyes roll back immediately, gagging, and you laugh cruelly.

“Oh, you love that. You little slut.”

He moans at the degradation, bucks his hips up in attempt to meet your core again. His large hands are around your waist, trembling as they press in with a bruising grip. You remove your fingers from his mouth, using both your hands to pry off his hands and pin them next to his head. 

“Hey,” you warn, talking to him as if he’s a bad dog. “Told you to be good. Hands up here until I say so, Satoru.”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathes, trying not to whine. His hands curl into fists, clenching and unclenching as he tries to calm the lion heart beating out of his chest while his body is forced into submission by the girl he’s always had power over. 

He stills his body despite himself, though his dick still aches in anticipation. He’s trying to be good for you. The best. 

You lean over to bite at his nipple and he gasps. The role-reversal was dizzying, particularly because you were using his own tricks against him. He feels like he might lose his mind.

“Stop– stop that–” he rasps.

“Why should I? I know you like it. You like when I play with you.”

“I– I–”

“You’d love it if I just used you, right? You want me so much you’d let me touch you in any way, any time of the day. Am I wrong?” You lift your head to meet his gaze, lifting your brow.

He flushes with embarrassment, stomach flipping at your words. “N-No,” he mumbles. 

“That’s what I thought, baby,” you chuckle. Your nails run through his undercut and he sighs in satisfaction, looking at you through wet eyes. 

“I’m keeping my hands to myself,” he simpers. “Please, just fuck me, I promise I’ll be good —”

“Oh? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes —”

“Mm. Wanna keep playing with you. Lay your head on the pillow properly for me, Satoru.” He obeys you without question, eyes half-lidded with lust as he awaits further instruction. There’s a stupor in his face, dumb with love. He’d do anything you asked. 

Your cunt pulsates around nothing, pleased at his obedience – you’ve never seen him so desperate, despite knowing he wasn’t above begging. Even before, you’d give in, allowing him to use you like a ragdoll. But this — this was entirely new territory. Satoru Gojo was being reduced to tears.

You climb over to him, cunt above his neck. His eyes are blown out, wet as his mouth. 

“You want a taste?”

He nods eagerly, too quickly, too possessed by desire to be embarrassed about it anymore. He wanted you any way he could have you.

You sink down to his mouth and the groan he lets out is louder than you expect.

“Satoru,” you hiss. “Keep it down.”

He whines, lapping at your pussy sloppily. You gasp when he flicks the tip of his tongue your swollen clit. Your thighs tremble as you try to stay upright, knuckles straining against the top of his headboard. At the same time, he uses the opportunity to squeeze the plushness of your ass – something you’d admonish him for if his mouth didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Oh,” you moan out softly, “That’s so good. Just like that, Satoru —”

He moans, his mouth leaking with his own drool and your arousal. It was a treat for him – you never liked sitting on his face for some reason, always blushed when he’d suggest it. But now, he was getting what he wanted. You were throwing him a bone. 

Satoru wants desperately to fist his cock, relieve the ache inside him that keeps building when he hears you whimper, but his hands are too preoccupied with touching you everywhere else. Your ass, your waist, the softness of your breasts underneath your t-shirt. His girl in the palm of his hand.

Your nails scratch his scalp, pulling on the strands of his hair as you grind on his face. Smearing yourself all over him. “Close–”

He doubles down on his efforts and all of it makes you see stars – supernovas clashing together in the fuzzy black behind your eyelids. You have to cover your mouth to keep down the sound of your moan.

His hands are squeezing your thighs. You yelp, overstimulated as his mouth latches onto your clit with no intention of letting go despite your orgasm.

“Satoru, no — no more —”

You roll off of him, ass tumbling onto his torso as he holds you upright. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, kissing you hard. You don’t have a chance to breathe before he does it, but you don’t care — your pussy drips in his lap as he maneuvers you straddle him properly, mouth moaning as you taste yourself on his tongue.

You can’t take it anymore. You need to be full of him.

You push him off you, pinning him to the bed as your cunt swallows his cock. You wince at the stretch after not taking him for so long, but the resistance quickly disappears from how turned on you are. You’re so overly sensitive from your orgasm that his tip hits your g-spot immediately, stimulation to the max as you grind on him at an angle that brings pressure to your insides. 

“Holy fuck –” Satoru gasps, hands on your hips in a vice grip.

He’s determined to take back any semblance of control, but he fucking loses it at the feeling of being inside you after months and months of a dry spell. You were better than any of his wet dreams. 

He bites his lip in attempt to suppress his whines, hands encouraging the roll of your hips as you grind down on his cock. He loves being used by you, fucked dumb and marvelling at the warmth of your skin on his. He lifts up your t-shirt and you let him pull it off you.

You look down and see puppy-dog eyes gazing at you spilling with tears of pleasure. Angel boy. 

You don’t give him a warning when you finish like you have in the past. It crashes into you, a collision of ecstasy. Months of denying him from your bed and your brain made you forget that he was your very best. Your first and perhaps your last. 

The thought takes the breath out of your lungs. In a moment of lucidity, you look at Satoru full-on, your lust-filled haze clearing to see him fully in adoration. Tears streaming down his cheeks, love painted all over his face.

He hiccups, whimpering. “Baby, I’m close – fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t help it! P-Please, can I —”

You shut him up with a kiss. “Come for me, Satoru,” you whisper against his mouth. “You’re so good. So good to me.”

His eyes widen. He’s about to gasp out a reply but he’s so overwhelmed by your words, the impossible warmth of your cunt sucking him in.

“I love you so much,” you coo, hips gyrating in tandem with his hands guiding you. “You wanna be good for me, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Then go ahead and come for me, baby.”

“Ah – fuck –” Satoru feels his mouth part involuntarily, letting out the ghost of a moan as he chokes up. The ache in his body bursts into sparks, his cum filling you up to the brim as his orgasm plundered through him. 

His legs are shaking.

His comedown is all erratic breaths, small gasps as he wills his heart rate down to a normal speed. He whimpers as he lifts his head to nuzzle your neck, nipping at your warm flesh before you allow him to kiss you tenderly. 

He mumbles something against your mouth that you don’t quite hear.

“Hm?” You attempt to pull away and he whines like a child. You kiss him again and he deepens it, fingers gathering the hair at your nape.

“Letsgetmarried,” he mutters into your jaw.

“What?”

“What?”

You pull back, staring at him with an amused grin. “Did you just propose to me?”

Satoru stares back at you, his snowy hair sticking out haphazardly. “Maybe. Yes. Like, yes, but also no.”

“You’re giving me mixed signals here.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” he slurs. “You fucked me too good. I wanna buy you a house.”

You burst into laughter and pet his head. “You don’t need to do that. You already pay my rent.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. Cradles you to his chest, which you don’t protest.

“I love you.”

“Yeah. I love you too.”

Silence fills the room, save for your soft breathing. You clear your throat and stretch your limbs.

“You’re not actually asking me to marry you, right?” you ask warily. 

“Why not? We already have kids.”

“They are not our kids —”

“They may as well be!”

“Satoru,” you snap.

“Okay, okay. I’m half-joking. But I’m serious when I say that I… I think you’re it for me,” Satoru mumbles. “Don’t want anyone else. Ever.”

You look up at him, your eyes glistening. “Me neither.”

You mean it. You suppose that the months without him were a lesson in patience, in self-preservation. You can’t deny that he was your missing piece despite it all, despite the hell you went through with him. 

Satoru has always held a slice of heaven – it clung to him, that divinity. You are the only thing that keeps him from dimming.

[jasperandhenryslovechild]

now that the shock of watching this trailer over and over and over again has worn down a tiny bit i need to ask, what the fuck is that hero costume and what does this mean for the preexisting canon dangerverse timeline

it is evident that these three costumes are NOT the same thing and it doesn't make me happy at ALL.

INDIVIDUAL BREAKDOWN/ELABORATION RAMBLE UNDER THE CUT

this one

is henry danger canon, like in the very last episode.

a muted version of the danger force canon one, with a fugly mustard hoodie with the strings tied so tight that it makes me question his breathing abilities and middle-schooler-who-just-discovered-what-mouse-is hair/j. he looks like he had to pull something together last minute unlike charlotte (curse me for cropping her out) who is literally THE COOLEST ONE HERE why is she not in the movie???? she is literally a fucking cyborg with purple hair someone explain this shit to me??? it's her superiority that allowed her to absolutely EAT THIS UP while henry looks like he just went dumpster diving

it's a vibe but it's also giving ramen noodles so im giving it a low 5/10 out of pity

danger force switches it up on us with this version

henry "we don't wear masks in dystopia, we're kinda above that" hart

this one is my favorite, it's cohesive and it goes together well. it's got the more grown hero vibe that ive always wanted to see in henry ESPECIALLY BECAUSE OF HIS GROWTH AS A CHARACTER!! THE RETURN OF THE KID EPISODE IS LITERALLY ALL ABOUT HOW FUCKING DIFFERENT HE IS AND IM HERE FOR IT SO HARD!!! i will absolutely drop a df henry hyper analysis some day but for now this is what we've got

the shades of burgundy and washed out red throw it together well and i can totally see an explanation behind this costume vs the old one being a simple upscale/revamp. that jacket has pockets to hide weaponry, leather would probably be a lot easier to take a tumble in (+ the knee guards not shown in this picture and like the plastic covers on the sides of his legs that i don't know the name of, implies that he takes enough hard falls to need protection in these areas!), it helps camouflage well in dystopia because the 2 seconds of clips we've seen of that place show that it's pretty dark despite its bright neon flashing lights that give it an evil sanfransokyo at night sort of vibe. it's superhero-y, but it also doesn't have all those staple childhood iconic hero things either— if anything he looks kinda ashamed to be in a superhero show and that's okay/j

overall, 10/10 because it has nothing to do with the capitan man/kid danger brand, it shows henry evolving beyond that point in his life into his own entity after being so soley dependent on ray for his entire previous career in superhero-ing

now to address this fucking monstrosity we were given just a few hours ago

i want to preface this by saying i am not ungrateful. the things i am about to say come from a place of pure dissatisfaction yet constructive criticism. ive been waiting years and years for this movie and i will literally take an hour and thirty minutes of jasper and henry twirling in a circle and make 183829992 edits of it i don't care, i love henry danger sm and the movie looks pretty cool

this being said

dear costume team of henry danger the movie,

have you ever watched henry danger and or danger force? do you even know what you're designing for? be honest, did the producers hand you this stock image

and tell you to make it mean? because every time i look at this costume there is something else wrong with it and it PAINS MY EYES. it makes him look like a cartoony ass space crusader instead of a hero fighting crime one of the most dangerous if not THE MOST DANGEROUS city in the world.

let's break this down, shall we? head to toe motherfuckers.

only not complaining about the hair and it being slicked in the same direction it used to be because it's consistent throughout the entire trailer (unlike SOME danger force episodes... cough cough return of the kid....cough cough.......)

that mask. firstly, i have issues with there being a mask at all, because danger force establishes that there are no masks in dystopia. nobody moves a finger to try and put on a mask, henry even fights SUNGLASSES. those sunglasses ray forces on him to hide his identity are brawled against, he's clearly grown out of masks. putting him back in one puts him back in that kid danger box he's been working hard to build up and out of, a concept established throughout the entire finale of henry danger and further reassured in danger force.

and if you were gonna inarguably give him a mask for simple minded audience recognition, nickelodeon, the least you could do was make it a PRETTY MASK. red was an.. okay choice for the base, but making the silver SURROUND IT? BLACK OUTLINE???? you're trying so hard to be new and cool and it is just painful on the eyes instead. the black eyeshadow under it makes him look like one of those 2020 emo dsmp cc edits and it's just like a throwback to an era nobody wants to go back to. that face card makes him looks like he listens to believer by imagine dragons while chewing that magic bubblegum. his lips are PALE, SOMEBODY GET THIS MAN SOME IRON— OH WAIT, THEY WASTED THEIR SUPPLY ON THIS NIGHT REFLECTIVE SILVER MAKEUP THAT MAKES HIM LOOK LIKE A STOP SIGN WITH A FLASHLIGHT UP IT'S ASSHOLE

then we move onto the base of the costume itself. firstly, the navy blue undershirt cut out to expose his neck says nothing to me. it does not make the statement you guys thought it would— in fact, it makes the whole thing look a pit incomplete? unkempt? it looks like theres something missing and with that black eyeshadow i think it's a thick silver chain SORRY IM DONE I'M OVER THE MASK

the vest over it gives me even more issues. you can't pull up with an audio of ray manchester going "you're not a sidekick anymore, you're a hero!!" and have THEIR FUCKING LOGO ON HIS CHEST. IT'S NOT RIGHT. ON TOP OF THE FACT THAT THE ENTIRE VEST IN AND OF ITSELF LOOKS LIKE IT WAS ROLLED IN DIRT AND HAS THE COLORATION PROPERTIES OF A DYING SEAL, THE LOGO BEING THERE AT ALL IS A MASSIVE ISSUE.

the entire POINT OF THE FINALE was that henry wanted to move on from his life as kid danger. he sacrificed himself and faked his entire death to thousands of people in order to become his own person. he had no life outside of crime fighting because he has no skills or traits outside of crime fighting— he gave up his entire childhood for it so naturally it's all he can gravitate to as he moves forward in dystopia. being a crime fighter once more is a punch in the face enough that he will never really escape who he once was despite the fact that HE GOT AWAY.

HE GOT AWAY.

in NO WORLD WOULD THE HENRY HART I KNOW AND LOVE PROUDLY WEAR THE SYMBOL OF THE VERY MAN THAT FAILED HIM. ray manchester failed him throughout his entire childhood— failed at giving him a normal kid life, failed at providing context and details before or even during the time he accepted the job— and yet here the movie is. he is wearing a rip off of his old costume in an attempt to leave behind who he was. that is ironic, that is HORRIBLE. because by putting him in this FUGLY ASS DOLLAR STORE COSTUME, not only are you retconning the evolution he's been working towards, you are denying him the right to become something greater than just kid danger

in the old costumes, the designs were different because he as a person was different. his entire character arc throughout the hd finale to now was just that, becoming different.

this is not different— this is just an older version of the ghost he's been leaving behind time and time again. dragging him back to his roots. there are millions of ways to drag him back to his roots in the movie itself because those roots will never free him, that is the entire point of him post henry danger and there's so many ways to show that. but changing his costume, one of the only parts of his new hero identity that he himself gets to choose, to resemble his old costume so similarly is just blatantly saying fuck you to the current dangerverse timeline and who that has made him out to be.

my final question is, what does that mean for everything else?

cause like, if the hd/df costumes are no longer a thing in the movie, what happened to them?? why did henry choose this bullshit over the FIREEE costumes in his past?? why would he ever do that to himself bro

and also BLACKOUT?? DO WE NOT GET AN EXPLANATION ON THAT???? BECAUSE EVEN NICKELODEON THEM FUCKING SELVES MADE A THEORY VIDEO ABOUT BLACKOUT BEING JASPER AND THEN WE PULL UP WITH THIS MOTHERFUCKER

LIKE GUYS I'M NOT GETTING IT ARE WE EVER GONNA GET AN EXPLANATION ON WHO BLACKOUT IS AND WHY HE WAS CAUGHT UP WITH HENRY— ALSO JASPER'S JUST TRANSFORMING RANDOMLY IN PUBLIC??? DOES THAT NOT NUKE THE ENTIRE PURPOSE OF HENRYS MASK?????

i do have very good things to say about this teaser, do not let your eyes deceive you, but i also have these complaints that i don't necessarily need answered if not I just need them to be heard

if you've made it this far thank you so much for coming to my insanely long ted talk

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

The reader is a protective fairy of Dave and always helps him, one day Dave is a little needy so the fairy helps him, despite her having no experience with humans, so Dave guides her (sorry for the bad English)

A/n: Your English is perfect and this was such a cool idea <3

Warnings: smut, riding, corruption, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Dave was a strange kid, always was and everyone agreed on that. He wasn't sure what was so strange, he would just spend a lot of time with you.

You were his best friend that everyone ignored, teachers, classmates, even his own family thought he was possessed or something for hanging out with you.

Most people summed it up to an imaginary friend and therefore saw no reason to bring it up, but as Dave got older it got weirder.

Now, Dave was not an idiot and eventually realized something was different about you. Since you'd been with him so long you told him the truth, that you were a fairy and were there to protect him and help him in any way he needed.

That flew straight over his head but after a few more explanations he got it for the most part.

You were with him through childhood, after his mom kicked him out and all through the bullshit that was Metallica. Of course you stuck with him through Megadeth, not that you had much of a choice.

You didn't need sleep so you would spend the night doing whatever, cleaning, reading, anything to pass the time. You'd stay out in the living room and kitchen, keeping clear of the bedroom so as to not wake Dave, especially not if he had company.

Tonight was no different, Dave was supposedly fast asleep and you were reading on the couch when you heard a strange noise coming from Dave's room.

You were his protective fairy, a guardian angel of sorts, you had to make sure he was ok even though he's told you time and time again not to come in while he was sleeping.

You worked yourself up as you walked over to the room and swung the door open, eyes widening at the sight of Dave laying out on his bed with his pants pushed halfway down his thighs and cock in hand.

"What is that, what are you doing to yourself?" You questioned, gesturing to him in his strange predicament.

Dave stared back at you, not bothering to cover himself up. "Nothing." He said.

You pressed your lips in a straight line. "I've never seen you like this."

"That's- yeah..." He replied. "Because you're not supposed to be in here while I'm sleeping."

You chewed your cheek. "I don't think that's how humans sleep."

Dave stared at you, eyes trailing down your body. "Can you, like, take that stuff off?" He asked, referring to the feather-like covering you had.

You looked down at yourself. "I guess, but it's not the same as humans."

"Oh." He said, sitting up a bit. "You can shapeshift, though, can't you?"

You shrugged. "Kind of, why? Do you not like my appearance?" You asked, spinning around.

Dave shook his head. "No, no, it's not that I just mean, could you, like, make your body human..?"

You shrugged, you'd never tried before. Dave always thought it was weird whenever you changed suddenly so you left the room and returned a moment later looking more human, your wings gone, feathery coating gone as well and replaced with the most 'human' like thing you could think of.

You didn't feel naked but definitely strange and vulnerable. Dave's jaw went slack as he admired your new body.

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and pat his thigh, gesturing for you to come over. You did but he stopped you when you went to sit on the bed next to him. "On the ground." His tone wasn't harsh and there was a shine in his eyes, one you'd never caught before.

Again you did as he asked and kneeled between his legs, looking up at him with slightly furrowed brows, confused as to what he was planning.

"Have you ever done this before?" He asked, running a hand through your hair. "Like, with other fairies or something?"

"I don't even know what you're trying to get me to do." You said bluntly, shoulder slumping.

"Sex, have you ever had sex before." You perked up at that. You'd never experienced it but you had heard of it to an extent. It was something you did for love with someone you loved and it was supposed to feel good.

"No." You said. Dave chewed his cheek.

He pulled you onto the bed and laid you down on your back, kissing your cheek then down your jaw until he was at your neck.

You could feel him rubbing against you, the anatomy of this body, and it sent shivers up your spine. "Davie, do more." You said, soft moans leaving you.

He guided his tip between your folds, drawing a small gasp from you. "Tell me if it hurts." He said before pushing into you. Never having experienced this before you were incredibly sensitive, back already arching off the mattress.

"Oh! Davie, do more." He let out a low chuckle at that and pulled his hips back. You whined, thinking he was stopping, but when he pushed back in you moaned. He did it again and again, your body feeling weirder by the second.

You could feel something hot building deep within you and the way Dave looked down at you, his big, fluffy hair framing his face as he stared at his dick disappearing in you.

Your breathing picked up and you felt your brain going foggy. Right before everything that built up came undone he pulled out of you. You whined at the lack of friction.

Dave moved to sit back against the headboard once more. "Is that it? Is it done?" You asked, looking at him with a pout on your lips.

He laughed at your concern and shook his head. “No, just c’mere.” You nodded and moved to straddle his lap. You weren’t sure what he was doing but you knew what you wanted, sinking down on his dick.

“I-I like this, Davie~” You gleamed. “Why-why couldn’t we do this before..?”

“I didn’t think we could.” He hummed, rubbing his hands up and down your sides before landing on your hips. “Now, just let me guide you, alright?” You nodded and let him lift you up.

Your hands rested on his shoulders as he helped you ride him, soon you were doing it yourself and making yourself feel good, telling by Dave’s grunts he felt good as well.

You snapped your hips and your eyes shot open, a gasp ripping from your throat. “Oh, fuck! Right there, I like it there!” You moaned out, head falling back.

Dave rolled his hips up to meet yours. “Right there?” He asked, hearing your moans getting louder.

You felt yourself coming undone, wrapping your arms tightly around him as pleasure racked your body. Dave helped you ride out your high, getting himself over the edge as well and cumming in you.

He laid you down beside him on the bed, laying beside you and pulling you close to his side. “Are-are you feeling better..?” You asked, looking up at him with tired eyes.

He nodded, kissing your forehead. “Much, I think I’ll be bringing you in here a lot more often.” You couldn’t help but to feel giddy at the though of doing this again.

Sex was something you did for love, with someone you loved. You looked up at Dave again, staring at him until he finally looked down at you. “I love you.” You said, a tired smile pulling at your lips.

Dave stared back at you with a shocked expression. “Uh… yeah… I do love you.” He said, realizing he truly meant those words.

[antimony-medusa]

Gonna be honest with you though if someone outright says “don’t ship my character with other people” or something to that extent regarding smut or whatever I don’t think there should be any ambiguity

I get your point about the nature of fanfic being inherently encroaching upon people’s images so that levity should be extended to otherwise uncommon avenues but I really believe hardline boundaries should be respected, end of, no discussion. If I see people violating creators’ boundaries for their characters Or themselves (and these can be intertwined, it’s not up to the audience to pick apart their boundaries, cuz I’ve seen people try to do that) I’m not going to judge them fairly and I feel like neither should you.

Lines can be crossed and intimacy (not even necessarily romantic!) is a very different monster than the other avenues of storytelling because of how it involves real life relationships seeping into character relationships. Its’s uncommon for people to be like “I wrote A’s character being tortured because I feel like A is tortured in real life” but they Can and Often do that with ship work. So I don’t know, I feel like you’re not affording this the right nuance.

Alright, so, this is another post I'm gonna slap with a discourse and long post warning right away, buckle in.

Yeah, I hear what you're saying, and this is not an uncommon opinion to have! It's still the opinion of twitter/x so far as I know, and I think it's probably the opinion of the bulk of dsmp fans here, as well. I know my posts get notes once they start circulating in hermitblr, but I don't kid myself that I have the majority view. I am posting to explain my views expressly because I know a lot of people don't agree with me!

And in this case we do have a difference of opinion. There's two sort of points as I see it in your posts— we have hardline boundaries about shipping/nsfw from some people, and everyone in the fandom should be abiding by those no exceptions or be thrown out of the fandom; and we have shipping boundaries but not boundaries for other things because shipping is uniquely boundary-crossing and terrible and invasive, in contrast to anything else we can do in fandom.

Taking the second part first, I just don't think that's true. Let's not forget, boundaries discourse started with SMPLive and SMPronpa, and it was not the shipping that caused the discussion, it was the death games. The first real fandom reckoning we had with the notion of boundaries as mcyt fandom was over gore and murder and portraying people in violent ways. Shipping was barely a blip on the radar. The way the discourse has developed now, shipping is framed as the absolute worst thing anyone could ever do with your public image, and everything else is fine, but that is not the case for everyone. Recently the Pirates SMP creators were asked repeatedly for their boundaries (bothered on twitter, really) until they gave them and thus we saw people being fine with shipping but not wanting family dynamic, or being against both shipping and gore, or being fine with shipping but not wanting to be gender bent or trans headcanoned, etc. Not everyone feels the same way about the same things, despite the us-american cultural viewpoint that romance and sexualization is uniquely bad but gore and torture is fine, that everything else is fine.

Like, if we're looking at DSMP, I think there are a lot of creators who would feel just as strongly if not stronger about fics in which their character died of a terminal illness than they would about a fic in which they kiss someone, for understandable reasons. But I see those tropes in the tags regularly!

I think if we are honest with ourselves, if we are going to hardline boundaries about things that are uniquely invasive or bad to do to a creator's character with the view that we are putting all of this up for the creator's approval, we need to accept that this excludes us from writing anything where a character is abusive or is tortured or dies of a terminal illness or is psychologically broken or is age regressed or is neurodivergent or is queer if the cc is straight or trans if the cc is cis or cis if the cc is trans or straight if they're gay— the list of things that would be weird to do in the face of the real guy is really long. And it has most of our favourite tropes on it!

I love writing autistic philza. It would be really fuckin' weird to go up to Philza and tell him about how I write his character as whumped and autistic. Come on now. (But that's within boundaries, so that's— fine? I really don't think it's fine!)

Which is why my stance is that we should be thinking critically about these things, and keeping the fandom seperate from the creators. Some of these things are just not for the creators. They're fine but they shouldn't go on twitter. Y'know?

The idea that shipping draws uniquely on the real person and leads to invasive behaviour but nothing else does— that nobody does "I wrote A being tortured because I think A is tortured in real life"— Look. I have been in the fandom a long time. I remember how all the abused tommy narratives fed right into people assuming his family in real life were abusive— and talking about this on twitter! Where he and his family could see! People did this with WIlbur and Techno too!

I remember people reading about trans tommy and then truthing that the creator either was transmasc or was going to come out as transfemme any day now, publically, on twitter and in his chat. I have seen people she/her tubbo to his face on twitter, with fancams. I have been in chat when people who have clearly assigned Phil "dad" start asking WILDLY invasive things in TTS. If you think that shipping is the only fandom behaviour that can lead to people drawing directly from the streamers for their work and treating the creators weirdly about it, you simply have not been paying attention.

The way the fandom insists on treating benchtrio as children despite the fact that they're almost twenty and viciously attacking their friends for treating them as adults and chiding tommy and tubbo and ranboo for inappropriate behaviour. The list goes ON.

So. The recieved DSMP wisdom is that we should TTS the streamers to check if it's okay if we write a fic in which they die of cancer. We should DM them on instagram to ask if it's okay if we write them as a gender or sexual identity they don't share. We should show up in their twitter mentions to ask if it's okay if we write them as a physically abusive parent.

No????????

My view on that is that it is frankly bizzare it is that we have decided that "asking creators for detailed instructions regarding porn or gore" (especially in TTS! When they're fucking at WORK and can't step away! Stop doing this to the hermits!) is normal and fine and responsible but "post your shit in appropriate places and leave the creators out of it" will make you a monster.

Once again, the experience of someone coming up and saying "i think of you as age regressed" and someone saying "i found this fic where you're age regressed" and someone saying "can I write a fic where you're age regressed" is not that different. In all cases you know that the person has been thinking about it and putting it out there, and in all cases you didnt seek out this information, it was brought to you. In all cases it's weird. Just do not bring this information up to them!

If you just think about it for a while, you see that there is an entire host of things that would be weird to force into the view of a creator, especially when you consider that half the time we got these clips from TTS information when we have no idea if the person answering knew the context of what they were being asked, if they were specifically aware of the creator/cc divide that the fandom works with, or if they felt pressured into it. Oh yeah, let's take a TTS clip from Tubbo when it was 2 in the morning for him and he was deep in a minecraft mod when someone asked him about alters and delusions and he was like "oh you mean like— when they can't help it? I guess that's fine." That definately counts as freely given, reversible, informed, enthusiastic and specific consent to show him anything we want at all times forever. That's never going to make him uncomfortable.

Think a little here.

So I think there's a lot of the fandom that we should not be putting up for the approval of the creators, and if we don't have a firm answer on if they would like potential edge cases, we should probably be thinking about it and keeping it away from them (and I would err on the side of caution), we should NOT be showing up in the TTS to ask them about narratives in which they're institutionalized, or making them a GOP conservative in fiction, or if Wilbur was canon about seeing them as a bottom, or whatever bizzare thing someone is cooking up now. Honestly if you think to yourself "I don't know if the creator would like seeing this", I would be much more comfortable if the two choices we were picking between there were "simply don't write it" or "write it but keep it away from them", and "harass the creator for an answer on this subject and only write it if they say yes" never entered the equation at all.

And to return to your first point, if we already have a class of fiction that we are keeping away from the creators because basic intellectual curiosity would show that it would be weird to show someone, I don't think it's the end of the world to go "okay, creator doesn't like NSFW, so we also keep the NSFW away from them, keep this shit off twitter, block them if you create it, don't show it to them" and then we archive lock it and continue on our little weirdo on the internet ways.

Now, I don't expect to convince you of this, the phrasing of your post does not indicate that you're open to discussion on this topic. That's fine. Nobody has to agree with me. But I grew up conservative christian, and I have already had people try and get me to throw people out of the community for their perceived sins where I was like "well, I really don't think this is that bad", and I'm really resistant to being forced to do that again. I don't think it's a healthy way to run a fandom, to be shunning people for what they're doing in fiction. Harassing creators in chat? Sure, I will block them from my events as untrustworthy. That's hurting someone in the real world. Writing something that I don't vibe with privately on the archive for an audience of 50 people? That is not doing harm to real people. As long as they're not showing it to the creators, I don't count that as offensive.

How's that for nuance.

[venusjaynie]

Newbie

Jim Halpert x fem!Schrute!Reader

summary: You're the newest employee, and also happen to be Dwight's sister. Jim doesn't realise how different Dwight and you are at first, but after being desk-mates for a whole day, he gets well-acquainted with you and is pleasantly surprised to learn that you're very different from your brother.

warnings: none!

word count: 2k

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Dwight parks the car in the car park of the Dunder Mifflin, Scranton branch, and you step out, smoothing down your clothes as you do so. Dwight had insisted he pick you up and drive you to the office for your first day. He may be an idiot, but he's nothing if not protective. He lifts your bag out of the back of the car and decides that he will carry it for you.

"Okay, look, I'm not gonna lie to you. This is gonna be intimidating for you. Working alongside me as your brother alone is pretty daunting, not to mention my sales record being one of the best that the company has ever seen. But don't be nervous, alright?" Dwight says, as you enter the building and make your way to the elevator. You nod your head in response, trying to calm your anxiety.

Despite your older brother's feeble attempt to comfort you, nerves have settled in the pit of your stomach. You're quite apprehensive to meet this 'Jim' character that Dwight is always complaining about. He seems annoying, and you don't want anything to distract you from your work today. You need to make a good first impression on the boss. Dwight seems to admire him, so you think he must be respectable.

The elevator stops and the doors slide open, and Dwight looks down at you.

"You ready?" He asks seriously.

"Ready as I'll ever be." You reply, taking a deep breath. He hands you your bag and leads the way to a door that says: 'Dunder Mifflin Paper company'. The two of your walk into the office, and are greeted by the receptionist.

"Hello, Pamela." Dwight says in his monotone voice.

"Hey, Dwight, who's this?" She looks over to you, and smiles, and you make an attempt to smile back, but your nervousness probably turns it into more of a grimace.

"This is my sister, you have her details already, Pam, you knew she was coming." Dwight rolls his eyes, and Pam makes a face that clearly says 'shut up'. You giggle at that, and walk over to Pam's desk.

"Hi, I'm Pam. If you need-" She was cut off by the door to another room opening, and someone shouting. You turn around to see what the commotion is, but it looks to be that you are the commotion.

"Oh! Who's the new girl? She's cute. Pam, do you have a sister none of us know about, because you two look identical." The man is looking at you, but not at your face. His line of sight is about 12 inches below your face, actually. You immediately realise what he is referring to, and turn around to Pamela to see her reaction to the mans crude comment, but she doesn't seem to react, and look as if she's used to it.

You choose not to voice your displeasure to his remarks, but Dwight, however, didn't take that same route.

"This is my sister. I respect you, Michael, but if you ever make any sort of sexual remark aimed towards my sister again, I will have to destroy you." He steps toward Michael, staying true to his dramatic nature, and Michael just awkwardly laughs and calls Dwight an idiot.

"Of course I know this is your sister, God, Dwight, I'm not stupid. I was kidding anyway." Michael turns back towards you.

"You must be Michael Scott, my new boss?"

"Guilty as charged, my dear. Now, lets see, where can we fit you in? There's a seat over by Stanley and-" He starts.

"No, Michael, she should sit across from me, that way I can keep an eye on her." Dwight interrupts him.

"Okay then, you'll sit across from Dwight, next to Jim. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a call to make to Jan." Michael retreats back to his office, and Dwight point to your seat. You're slightly nervous to be seated next to Jim, but you don't argue with your brother, because to argue with Dwight is simply a waste of time.

"Hey, newbie. I would introduce myself, but I'm sure Dwight has already told you all about me." Jim says, looking at Dwight with a smile.

"For your information, yes, I have. And she knows your name is Jim because Michael just said it, idiot." You laugh at Dwight's response, and then again at Jim rolling his eyes in feigned annoyance.

You talk to Jim for a little while longer, and then he gets up to grab you both some coffee from the break room. You realise you should probably get some work done, and you turn on your computer, but after staring at the screen for a few minutes it hits you that you actually don't know what you're doing. While you have a sales background, every company has a different way of dealing with sales calls.

"Dwight? What's the protocol for a sales call here? Is there a handbook, or a script I need to follow?"

"No, you just make it up as your go along. Look, Michael is all about customer satisfaction, and personalisation of orders, so just be nice, okay?"

"Okay, I can do that." You reply.

"Of course you can, you're a Schrute. You'll figure it out." You nod in response.

Dwight hands you a small pile of leads to get you started, and you start to dial the first number.

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

In the break room, Jim and some of the other employees are talking over some coffee, and you overhear some of what they're saying as you walk up to the door.

"So, what do you all think of the new girl?" It's Jim that asks. His back is turned toward the door, so he doesn't see you approaching

"She seems sweet. Sweeter than Dwight is anyway." You can't tell who says that, but you know it's a woman.

"Is that really a way to measure how nice someone is? Comparing them to Dwight?" Whoever says that gets a few laughs from the others. It's almost hurtful to hear them talk about your big brother that way. Sure, he has is quirks, and he can be abrasive or harsh sometimes, but that's just who he is.

"I don't know guys. She seems sort of odd to me. I mean, she's nice and all, but she's a Schrute." The small blonde women scoffs at whoever makes that comment. You know her. You've seen her in Dwight's house a few times when you're visiting. She doesn't stick around for long when she knows you're there, but Dwight thinks very highly of her.

You don't realise how long you've been standing there until Pam comes up behind you and asks if you're okay.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just zoned out for a second." She eyes you wearily, but doesn't question it.

"Alright, you coming in?" She asks, motioning to the breakroom, but you shake your head, not totally sure you want to have a work break with the people that clearly dislike your brother.

"You sure? It might be fun to let everyone get to know you." After a moment or two of deliberation, you accept her offer and follow her through the doors, offering a shy smile when the others turn to look at you.

"Hey, new girl. How you finding the job? I'm Ryan, by the way." You nod, and shake his outstretched hand.

"It's alright. Dwight's been helping me out if I need it, but I think I'm doing pretty well."

"God, I just can't believe you're Dwight's sister. You're so different." You don't really know how to respond to Ryan's comment, and luckily you're saved by someone, who you still don't know the name of.

"If you need anything, and don't want to ask Dwight, me and Stanley are happy to help. I'm Phyllis." Phyllis seems sweet, and a man, presumably Stanley, just hums at her statement. You can't tell whether he's agreeing or not.

"Thank you, Phyllis, but really, Dwight's helping me whenever I need it." She just nods. The room goes quiet, and you just have to ask what these people think of your brother. "Hey, um, do you guys not like Dwight?"

No one answers.

"Ah, I see." You speak to no one in particular, and give the group a tight-lipped smile.

"It's not that we dislike him... we just disagree with how he handles certain situations." Pam speaks up, and you nod at her, still not entirely sure why people feel like this about Dwight, but truthfully you don't really care enough to pry.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna go back out to my desk, so I'll catch up with you guys later." You get up and turn to leave before you're stopped by Jim.

"Hey, newbie, wait up. I'm heading back out there too." Jim gets up and joins you on the walk back to your desk clump, and he tells you how Dwight and he have a 'charming back and forth banter' type of companionship.

"I don't know, Halpert. Dwight seems to have a different view of your relationship." Jim laughs at your answer.

"Really? What's he told you?" You shake your head and tap the side of your nose, indicating that it's a secret, and Jim playfully rolls his eyes.

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

By the end of the day, you've gained 5 clients, which Dwight tells you shows promise. Jim congratulates you on a successful first day, and offers to walk you out to your car.

"Well, Dwight's car, but, sure." You smile as Jim picks up your coat from the rack and hands it to you, and the two of you say goodbye to Pam.

"Why'd Dwight drive you to work? Do you live with him and Mose?" He asks while you walk down the stairs of the building.

"No, God, no. I love my brother, but I don't think I could live with him." Jim chuckles at your words. "He drove me to work because he wanted to make sure I was okay. He knows I get really anxious about meeting new people and stuff, so he just wanted to calm my nerves as much as he could."

"Huh, I never saw Dwight as the 'calming nerves' type."

"In our family, blood relation is everything. I spent my whole life with my siblings, and we didn't really have many friends between us. So he grew very protective of my and our sister, Fannie." Jim looks somewhat shocked, but you just smiled, being used to that reaction from people who know Dwight as harsh and, slightly, rude.

Neither of you speak for a moment as you near the door, and you can see Dwight tapping his wrist watch while staring at you, so you think it best to get a move on.

You make a move for the door, but Jim beats you to it, and holds the door open for you.

"Thanks, Halpert."

"No problem, newbie." He walks to the car, and as you're about to open the door, he speaks up.

"Hey, I'm, uh, really glad you're gonna be working here." He shoots you a shy smile, and you lightly brush your hand against his arm.

"Me too, Halpert. See you tomorrow, yeah?" He nods, and turns to leave, but adds,

"If you ever want a ride to work that isn't Dwight, here's my number." He hands you a little piece of card, evidently his business card, and you slip it into your bag.

"Thanks, Jim. I may just take you up on that offer." You reply, smiling at him and stepping into your brother's car.

"So, what d'you think? Jim's as awful as I told you, right?" Dwight asks while starting up the car.

"He's not so bad." You respond, with a soft grin on your face. Dwight doesn't reply, but eyes you wearily before checking your temperature with the back of his hand against your forehead, and you swat his hand away, laughing as his antics.

"You gonna come back tomorrow?" He asks after a while of silence.

"Definitely."

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

thinking of making this a series, or just doing part two!

[pepsiboyy]

HEARTSTRINGS. - p4

p3 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p5

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, cursing, make outtt, fluff !! a/n: HIIII you guys are absolutely blowing this up <3 i love u guys so much! longer part today, the moment u guys have been waiting for sort of !!

"i'm really, really fucking sorry."

i stared at chris with wide eyes after he had knocked on my door later that night.

struggling to keep a serious expression, i cracked a smile and leaned against my doorframe as i stared up at him. what's the hurt in prying a bit?

"sorry for what?"

chris stared at me in disbelief, the corner of his mouth raising into an undeniably attractive smirk. "don't do that, y/n."

the tone of his voice was deep, and the way his stated it made my chest feel like it was going to cave and my body feel like it was going to explode. "do what?"

"you're so fuckin' annoying, kid." chris stated, his smile now fully visible as he looked at me with a look that seemed to be one full of admiration. "really though. i overreacted and shouldn't have said what i said. i would have done the same thing, honestly." my only response was a soft nod.

we stayed like that for a while before i opened the door wider and invited him in.

i sat at the edge of my bed, and he hesitated to do so as he looked around my room. "'s bare in here."

my brows knitted together as i stared at him. "remember i moved in less than a week ago, idiot."

"i need to take you to ikea. genuinely." he then carefully took a seat beside me.

i blinked a few times as i stared at him, my cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. "ikea? like the furniture store?"

chris stared at me in disbelief before it clicked for him. "you've never been?" upon seeing me rapidly shake my head, he smiled softly.

"you free tomorrow?"

"the fuck do you mean you can't drive?"

"well, my brothers and i are always together, so i never really-" chris defended himself, rubbing the back of his head with pink cheeks. his fingers ran through his shaggy hair.

"you failed to think of that or even mention it before inviting me to ikea?" i teased, lightly hitting his shoulder.

chris took a breath to defend himself, but ultimately failed.

"i could have gotten us an uber or something. i don't want to bother your brother." i stated as we sat against the living room couch.

we woke up a bit earlier to get to ikea at a decent time, and nate was asleep still.

"no, it's fine. matt doesn't mind." chris reassured, a bright smile on his face.

"why couldn't you get an uber or something." was one of the few first sentences matt stated before chris quickly smacked his shoulder.

"because, you're here. and you're free."

"gas isn't."

i quickly lifted my hand like a kid in elementary school to intervene, smiling nervously. "i can pay you for gas."

matt stared at me for a moment before turning to chris. "would you look at that. she's offered more than you ever have. i like her." he joked and smiled, holding out his hand slightly. "i'm matt."

i stared at him for a moment before gently taking his hand and shaking it.

matt looked so much like chris, yet so different at the same time. they had different haircuts, but used different body language and had a few different features that were prominent.

"i'm y/n." i smiled softly before pulling my hand away.

i thought i would be the one looking at things on this trip, but i was the one pushing the cart while chris excitedly held things up to show me before setting it back down on the shelf.

"who are we here for?" i joked as i looked at chris.

"uhhh.. you, obviously," i mumbled softly, setting the oddly shaped beside alarm clock back where it goes. "i was just looking."

"right." i smiled and began to walk away, leaning over the cart as i allowed my eyes to wander.

chris quickly jogged to catch up to me, smiling down at me as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. "you really haven't found anything yet?"

"nothing has really reached out to me and grabbed my attention, i guess."

chris nodded as he looked around, before he continued to watch me. i finally turned to him and smiled. "what?"

"you look nice today." chris quickly stated, turning away nonchalantly to cover the pink on his cheeks, but i could see his ear turning into a redder shade.

"thanks," i mumbled softly, continuing to walk as i bit my lip. "you don't look too bad yourself."

chris scoffed softly.

we were nearing the end of the store, and i had just found a few simple decorations to spice up the vibes in my room. nothing too crazy.

but something quickly caught my eye, and i stopped in my tracks before quickly making my way towards it.

chris quickly followed and looked at the item, then back to me with a cocked eyebrow. "a desk?"

i nodded and smiled softly.

the desk was white with a few shelves lined up against the back.

i smiled shyly as i ran my hand against the surface. "i could do some homework on it, maybe... write lyrics on it?" i tilted my head and shrugged.

chris just stared at me, the corned of his lips turning to a smirk. "you'd write lyrics?"

i turned to him and smiled defenselessly.

"when will i hear you sing?" he asked softly, and i looked up at his face, smiling at his serious yet soft expression.

a soft hum left me as i shrugged. "soon."

chris shrugged, seeming to enjoy that answer more than a "never" and knelt down to help me pick up a box for the desk.

we made our way to checkout, and took out the smaller items to scan and grabbed the small scanner to scan the big box in our cart.

once we finished scanning everything, i reached to grab my wallet, but chris scoffed audibly from beside me.

as i looked up, i heard the beep of the card reader that had already gotten his card's information. "chris!"

chris giggled and took his card back, sliding it back into his wallet and into his pocket.

"why'd you do that?"

"i'm the one that said your room was ugly." he stated quickly.

i stared at him and smacked his shoulder. "you never said that."

"right, it's bare." he corrected, smiling warmly at me. "don't worry about it. i had to make it up to you anyways."

i smiled warmly at him and let out a soft sigh. "thank you, chris."

"now let's go wait for matt to pick us up?"

"how the fuck do you do this?" chris whispered to himself.

i smiled softly at him as i held the instructions to building the desk between my fingers.

chris was laying on his side on the floor in my room, attempting to build the desk. he would smack my hand away whenever i tried to help him, insisting that he had it figured out.

"you're attaching the wrong part to that, chris-"

"i knew that!" he'd quickly defend, waving his hand and hiding his embarrassed expression by turning to cough.

i smiled softly at him.

this annoying ass kid had truly made me realize today that he meant a lot more to me than i had ever thought he would.

my eyes explored him as he laid on his side against my carpet, his white tee loose on him. the hem had lifted a bit with the impact of the floor, revealing a belt that hugged his waist in all the right ways to keep his baggy, blue jeans up. his bangs hung low against his face, and his eyes were a neutral blue that i couldn't seem to keep my eyes off of.

"is this right?" chris questioned, holding up two wooden boards. i quickly shook myself out of my thoughts and looked at the instructions before nodding. "good, because i already put this nail into this one."

i smiled at him and hummed as i shifted to sit on the floor beside him.

after a few minutes, chris sighed and sat up to sit upright, gently wiping the fake sweat off of his forehead. "all this hard work," he joked, and i smiled warmly at him.

chris stared at me for a few moments before he stood up and quickly bolted out of the room, leaving me confused.

but he quickly returned with an acoustic guitar from nate's room, smiling and sitting beside me with a soft smile.

i watched him sit beside me and get in a comfortable position before speaking up. "what possessed you to go get that?" i questioned.

chris scooted a bit closer to me, smiling softly as he leaned down to carefully position his hands. "i wanted to show you what i've been working on."

i nodded softly as i watched his hands position themselves. his bangs covered his eyes and gently grazed his nose as he looked down at the guitar.

i smiled at him in admiration as he began strumming the guitar. the soft chords filled my ears in every perfect way, the way he slowly played with the pick in his hand, strumming the strings a few times for each chord.

i couldn't stop looking at him. the way his bracelets dangled slightly, the way his hair fell, the way his nose scrunched every time he gently grazed a string on his guitar to get a squeaky sound that somehow fit perfectly into the song nonetheless.

i smiled at him as i watched, and chris's head lifted to look at me as he strummed the guitar.

we stayed like that for a few moments. his pick slowed down with each moment that passed, and i smiled at him.

i never noticed he had freckles until now. that was how close we had been sitting by one another, now staring at each other in a comfortable silence as he strummed his guitar and slowly finished.

a few more seconds went by before chris let out a loud sigh, one that almost sounded frustrated. he quickly set the guitar to the side, leaning against the half finished desk and leaned closer to me, a hand running against my jaw as our noses touched.

"can i kiss you?" he asked softly, his eyes a deeper shade of blue and his face a pretty shade of pink that made my stomach do flips.

i nodded quickly, moving my hands so that one moved to the side of his neck.

chris closed the gap between us, his lips pressed against mine as he tilted his head and closed his eyes.

his hand moved to gently rest on my waist, the other moving to my hand to gently intertwine with my fingers.

i felt my face head up and my lips curl into a bright smile as i tilted my head and kissed him back, my heart beating at a billion miles a minute.

chris carefully pulled away from the kiss and gently pulled my hand as he stood up, motioning for me to also stand up. i did just that, and he guided me to the side of my bed before urging me to sit down and crashing his lips into mine.

i laid down against my sheets, and chris crawled on top of me.

my hands found a home in his hair, fingers burying into his curls.

i fucking love his curls.

chris kept one hand by my side against the bed to hold himself up beside me as his other hand held my jaw and cheek, thumb caressing my cheek gently.

we stayed like this for what felt like an eternity, and honestly, i wouldn't have minded if it lasted longer.

chris pulled away and stared at me with lidded eyes and swollen, parted lips.

i smiled softly at him, and he reciprocated that as he chuckled softly.

"you know i thought you were gorgeous since i met you, right?"

i cringed slightly. "you thought i had a boyfriend who started an argument with me, actually."

"shut up," he quickly defended, chuckled softly before he moved to lay beside me, eyes now glued to the ceiling.

we sat in a comfortable silence before i turned toward him and wrapped an arm around his waist softly, smiling shyly.

chris turned to me and smiled softly, his cheeks pink as he hummed.

"now for the real question," chris started, and i nodded as i listened closely to him.

"how do we tell your brother?"

p3 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p5

comment to be added to the taglist !! taglist;; @sturnioloshacker @nickgetsmewetter @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @chrissgirlsstuff @nsjsnshey @sturniolosarethebest @sofie-1 @sturniololol @veysxrge @587528382527 @sturniolostars @larnieboox88 @eliana-4200

[cripplecharacters]

I want to write more disabled characters but my story takes place in the 60s… so far it hasn’t been an issue because the disabilities included would historically either be undiagnosed, kept secret, belong to characters already at the fringes of society, etc

I really want a specific character to have Down’s syndrome but it’s not the sort of story that would at all be benefited from the inclusion of an institution. For personal reasons, I don’t want to touch that. I’ve been writing him with just undiagnosed autism that’s left him socially outcast from his peers. The most extreme his ableism gets is being seen as the local weird girl (as he’s a closeted trans man)

The story is decently realistic for what the queer and intersex characters would experience, imagining doing the same for disability feels bad… at least, to the level of ableism someone with Down’s syndrome would experience. His parents are notably shitty, rich, and care more about their reputation than their kids so I don’t see a way he wouldn’t get that treatment.

Is there a way I can still write this or similar characters without delving into heavy ableism? What are your thoughts on historical stories that ignore or downplay historical ableism?

Thanks, @interroblog

Hello asker,

I'll start first with a small note: It's better to write Down Syndrome as opposed to the possessive Down's Syndrome, since John Langdon Down didn't have DS.

So, with this story there is one general concern:

It feels strange to depict period-accurate intersexism and transphobia and homophobia as core parts of the story, but downplaying ableism when it's as period-accurate as the other -isms. In this case, it can definitely feel like you're glossing over a very relevant part of history that would have been part of your story. Yes, queer and intersex people have faced some really difficult things and still do. But the same is true for disabled people. Ignoring this can feel revisionist.

If you're going for a very realistic story, but you don't want to write ableism at all, it is probably better to just skip the DS aspect. People with DS have faced some truly intense ableism throughout history (and they still do), as people who have intellectual disability and facial and physical differences, two things that lead to some pretty intense ableism from many, many people. It's fine to not do this if you're not comfortable writing ableism, but again, intense ableism was widespread and common.

However, if the only thing holding you back is institutionalization: Not every single person with Down Syndrome was institutionalized. Yes, it was very common, and would probably be thought about, suggested, and even encouraged. But not everyone institutionalized their children with DS, for various reasons.

If you want him to still have that type of parents, perhaps the reason they don't institutionalize him is in fact for the benefit of their reputation. Maybe they want to be seen as 'saintly' for raising a visibly disabled child or something – still shitty, still caring about their reputation more than their actual kids, like you intended; there is just a different outcome.

Now, to my personal thoughts on historical stories that ignore or downplay ableism, as someone who loves historical fiction: It depends on how historically accurate the story in general both is and aims to be. But I don't like stories that completely ignore ableism, especially the more realistic they aim to be. It feels like glossing over history. Even modern stories that completely ignore ableism I don't like. I still recognize that downplaying historical ableism can be a useful tool for authors, especially for disabled authors' own comfort. And, also, while ableism was very common in the past, it doesn't mean every disabled person ever always faced the worst possible ableism ever.

Basically: you, and other authors, can acknowledge historical ableism accurately without making it the main point and focus of the story. But if your focus is a story specifically about discrimination, which it seems like it is, it feels irresponsible to gloss over an extremely common and pervasive form of discrimination.

Hope this helps,

– mod sparrow