#(I know it sounds like I’m irritated with the kids; and I am. But it’s more irritation with their parents letting them become addicted

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Just applied for a summer childcare position (like for a camp type thing) that pays 20–28 dollars an hour based on qualifications (I should be towards the end of that scale because I work in a school; and the only requirement the job lists is to be 16 and have experience with children). So hopefully they’ll consider me. That would be wonderful.

[berryhobii]

Baby Mama Drama(jjk x reader)

Pairing: BabyDaddy!Jeon Jungkook x BabyMama!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.2K+

Warnings: reader and Jungkook coparent, they have a daughter who is mentioned but doesn’t appear in the story, reader and Jungkook technically aren’t together but they still love each other and fool around🥴, reader irritates the hell out of JK but he can’t stay mad at them, reader is definitely a little toxic, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), oral(m and f receiving), 69 position, the sloppiest of top, face riding, fingering, reverse cowgirl, reader rides like a pro, missionary, reader has a tattoo🤭, reader is also dragging that wagon, reader also also has that certified WAP, reader is flexible, squirting, unprotected s*x(don’t do this and then turn into this couple), creampie, dirty talk, one face slap, multiple ass slaps like seriously JK is obsessed with reader’s badonk a donk, a little degradation and a dash of dumbification

A/N: I’M BACK EVERYONE!🥳for anyone who didn’t read my last post, my tumblr was suspended for a little while so that’s why I wasn’t posting. Anyway, it’s over so I’m back to work. This is a piece inspired by @joonberriess and their Sleazy!JK storyline. Shoutout to them. I love everything about the way they write JK and reader so definitely check them out if you haven’t already! Their stories make me want a sleazy baby daddy who can’t leave me the hell alone but I know I’ll never be able to handle that in real life so fictional is good enough for me!🤣this fic is just kind of a reverse of theirs where I made reader a sleazy and jealous baby mama. I know this kind of behavior is a stereotype among the black community but I am in no way condoning it. It’s just fiction and meant to be entertaining. Anyway, please let me know what you guys think as I am always open to criticism and please look forward to my upcoming posts! Much love and thanks for reading 🤎🤎🤎

~

“So, do you have any kids?”

Taking a sip of his drink, Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, one. A daughter. You?”

“Two. Their father is an absolute nightmare though. Thank goodness we have a court order. I can’t even be in the same room as him without wanting to pull all my hair out.” She bitterly laughed with a shake off her head, tossing the rest of her drink back. “What about you? Is your child’s mother a monster?”

Jungkook titled his head, a strained chuckle leaving him. “Um, well she’s…..something.”

The woman hummed. “I get it. A real bitch, huh? I hate women like that. Ones who can’t let their baby daddy’s go and are somehow always around. So annoying. Like don’t you have something better to do?”

“Yeah and I do it 4 times a week in my Queen sized bed.”

Jungkook stiffened at the sound of that familiar voice. There was only one person he knew that spoke that crassly to strangers.

The scent of your perfume and the smell of the mousse you used on your braids invaded his space and solidified that shit was about to go downhill.

The woman, who’s name he don’t think he ever caught, made a noise of surprise once you appeared before her. Your body stood right between her and Jungkook, forcing her to step back a little. Arms crossed over your chest and hip cocked out to the side, your eyes roamed up and down this woman’s body in a scrutinizing manner.

“And who are you?”

Leaning back a little, you plopped yourself right on Jungkook’s lap.

Looking her up and down once more, you answered simply with a big smile, “I’m unimpressed. Nice to meet you.”

Ignoring you for a moment, the woman looked around you to make eye contact with Jungkook who was shooting her a look that screamed, “please walk away!” She didn’t really understand what was going on. Who were you and why did you walk into their conversation on 10 like that? It was one thing to interrupt a conversation but to be that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know? That didn’t go down well in her book.

Copying your previous stance, the woman replied, “Well I’m unimpressed with your attitude. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

“No but she taught me to how to wrap a bitch’s hair around my wrist and keep swinging until my arm gets tired.” Your smile was sugary sweet but your words cut deep like knives. The woman was stunned. No one has ever spoken to her this way and it was a rude awakening. She didn’t even know how to respond.

Not wanting to see you demonstrate your mother’s teachings, Jungkook quickly stood to his feet. “Well, we should really be going. It was nice meeting you. Let’s go.” He grabbed your arms to start pushing you away from the woman.

“No it wasn’t!” You called out, both of you leaving the shocked woman by herself.

Once you two had made it outside, Jungkook’s frustration boiled over.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why is it everytime I meet someone, you show up and scare them off? We aren’t together anymore. Is it not getting through your head? Like what the hell-“

His rant was flying right over your head because all you could focus on was how unbelievably sexy he looked today. How dare he walk outside like that? And he was going to waste all of that on some random stranger in a bar? Yeah right. Not as long as you had a say about it.

Your greedy eyes trailed from the top of his head to those bulging veins in his neck and down to his soft cock that was pressing against his jeans. Whew, just imaging that monster had your panties sticking to you. It was so big and warm and when he was giving you back shots…..

“Are you listening to me?”

You blinked a few times, your eyes slowing raising until they met the searing glare of your baby daddy.

“Uh yeah. Something about airline prices. So what are you doing tonight?”

Jungkook couldn’t fucking believe you. God you pissed him off to no end but he always had a way of letting off some steam.

“Let’s go. Now.”

“Yes sir.” You purred with that mischievous glint in your eye. Jungkook’s own eye twitched at the implications behind your tone but he decided to ignore it in favor of turning around to begin walking to his car, you hot on his heels and a Cheshire like grin on your face because you were getting what you wanted.

The drive back to his place was quiet, as was the ride up the elevator and the living room as he moved to sit down. He didn’t even raise his eyes to look at you once since you got in the car. Although you could see right through his petty act.

Flopping down on the couch next to him, your head leaning against your hand, you said, “come on, baby. You’re not still mad at me, are you? I said I’m sorry.”

No answer.

Moving closer to him, your hand trailed over his chest and up to his face to turn his head to face you, lips just centimeters apart. This wouldn’t be the first time you were on the receiving end of his heated glare and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on.

“What do I have to say for you to forgive me? I hate when you’re mad at me, baby.”

“Then stop doing shit that pisses me off and I won’t be.” He fired back, that low tone of his sending shocks down your spine.

“I’m sorry. Now let me make it up to you.” He could pick up on that sultry voice anywhere and those bedroom eyes you were currently shooting him was a dead giveaway as well.

He rolled his eyes. “You need to stop expecting dick everytime you come over here. It’s not gonna fix anything.”

Gasping dramatically, you moved back a little to hold a hand to your chest in faux offense. “You wound me, tater tot. I came here with pure intentions to apologize to you. Can a woman not apologize to her baby daddy without him thinking she has an ulterior motive?”

An unimpressed look crossed Jungkook’s face from your dramatics and from that stupid pet name you gave him all those years ago.

“Whatever.” He mumbled. “Fine. I accept your apology. Just don’t do it again.” A warning that fell on deaf ears because yeah, you’d definitely do it again if needed but for now, you’d bask in his forgiveness.

“Thank you, baby. You know I only want to make you happy.”

“You do,” he whispered, those doe eyes lifting to connect with yours.

Your lips met, your hands pushing Jungkook back against the arm of the couch to climb into his lap. He went willingly, melting into your touch and the feeling of your plump lips. His own hands traveled up your thighs to squeeze at the plushness of your ass, his grip forcing your covered cunt to rub against his growing erection.

His grunts mixed with your low hum of pleasure as you grinded against one another but Jungkook could only tolerate about a minute of that before he started getting impatient.

Groaning against your lips, he struggled out a, “fuck. Sit it on already.”

The sounds of your giggles made him pause, eyes cracking open and his eyebrow raising because what the hell was so funny?

“Oh nothing.” You said as if reading his mind. “I just remember a very certain someone saying not to expect dick everytime I come here yet that same person is telling me to sit on his dick. How the tables have turned.”

Rolling his eyes yet again, Jungkook suddenly heaved himself up, forcing you backwards. Your giggles increased, the contagion of your amusement finally breaking him and stretching a full blown smile across his face.

“You’re so goofy.”

“Then do something about it, Mickey.”

In a show of strength that turned your panties from a pool into a water park, Jungkook heaved you over his shoulder, hand coming down on the fat of your ass.

“I’ll do something about it alright.”

Once you made it to the bedroom, Jungkook tossed you down onto the bed and was about to climb on top of you but you were a little quicker. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him down until he was flat on his back with you straddling his waist—his hard cock pressed right against your clothed cunt, just waiting to be released.

Leaning down, you captured him in another kiss while he captured your ass in his grip.

“Damn I love this ass….” He murmured into your lip lock which made you giggle.

After deeming him throughly kissed, you sat up to take in his flushed face and reddened lips. Perfect.

“Forgive me yet?”

He hummed, fingers playing with the hem of your top. “Maybe after you take this off.”

Ever so compliant, you gripped both sides of your shirt and pulled it over your head to reveal your bare breasts to Jungkook. His eyes could have popped out of his head, the groan he let out a mixture of arousal and slight irritation.

“You’re not wearing a bra?”

Shrugging one shoulder, you simply answered, “I knew I was coming here. What’s the point? Do you want to know if I’m wearing underwear?” That cheeky smile answered the question for him and it only sunk him further into the already unhealthy infatuation he had with you.

Gripping your ass, he roughly grinded your cunt down on his erection. The friction made both of you gasp, the air starting to feel electric as desperation began eating at both of you.

It didn’t take long for both of you to undress each other. Jungkook helped you wiggle out of those tiny shorts you wore, letting out a curse as a little drip of sticky arousal snapped back against your inner thigh. Sitting up, he grabbed the back of his shirt to pull it over his head and toss it somewhere in the room. Now you could feast your eyes on the hard planes of his body and trace your fingers those intricate tattoos that marked up his skin.

Leaning down once again, you trailed kisses from that sweet spot on his neck, down his chest and over his abs until you reached your destination. Your eyes never left his as you began your descent, hands tugging at the waistband of his jeans to pull them down and Jungkook helped kick them off. You licked your lips at the sight of Jungkook’s hard cock slapping against his abs once you freed it from the confines of his pants . He could see that hungry look in your eye, smirking as he took hold of his erection and began lightly pumping it; a motion that drove you fucking crazy was watching him stroke himself. It just did something to you.

“You want it, bug?” He teased to which you nodded frantically.

“Yes, baby. Give it to me.” Opening your mouth, you held your tongue out to lick at it, Jungkook hissing at the contact. He slapped it against your wet muscle a few times before letting the tip slip in your mouth. You immediately wrapped your lips around it, suckling at it like a desperate whore. Which you were but only for him. No one else could make you act like this.

You replaced his hand with your own, licking and spitting all over his cock to lubricate it. Taking him down your throat, you began bobbing your head up and down, making sure to twist your wrist just the way he liked it.

Jungkook let out a series of low moans, curses, and the tiniest of whines everytime you went down. One hand gripped at the ponytail you put your braids up in and one hand behind his head, he let you take the lead. You knew just how he liked it, just the way to flick your wrist and tighten your throat to throw him over the edge in minutes.

Coming off him with a wet cough, you continued to stroke his cock, your spit soaking your own hand but that only helped the glide. Your hazy and hungry eyes stared right into his, your chin and mouth soaked in saliva. “I love this cock so fucking much.” You gasped before taking it back down your throat and bobbing your head.

Tossing his head back, Jungkook let out a strangled moan, forcing your head down. You let him, of course, relaxing your throat so he could fuck up into your mouth.

“Come sit on my face, baby. Right fucking now.” He demanded.

Pulling off him a little, you maneuvered your body until your pussy was right over his face—69 style. He gripped both of your ass cheeks in his palms, pulling you down until he could suck your neglected clit into his mouth.

You let out a sharp gasp around his cock, finally getting some type of relief. Sucking his cock made you a different type of horny and he could see that with the way your cunt was dripping.

His mouth and tongue started going crazy, ravenous as he alternated between sucking and licking, making sure to dip his tongue in your opening every once in a while. His hands continued to slap and grip at your ass, one wandering sometimes to pull your slippery lips apart so he could really get in there.

His hand trailed down from your ass to your tight opening, squeezing a finger into your spasming walls. He located that sweet spot with practiced ease, slipping in another finger in beside it and stretching your snug cunt open. The squelching of your walls was like music to his ears, adding to the salacious ‘gluck gluck’ noises your throat was making as you swallowed his cock.

Since you were horny on your way here, it didn’t take long for that feeling to start burning hot in your belly.

You pulled off his cock but continued to stroke him, your cheek resting against his thigh as high pitched moans left your lips.

Jungkook flattened his tongue, his grip on your ass guiding you to rut against his face. The fat of your ass almost suffocated him but Jungkook couldn’t imagine going out any other way. He hooked his fingers right into your gspot, your eyes rolling back and head hanging low as you used him for your pleasure.

“Oh yes! Oh yes, daddy! You’re gonna make me cum!” Lifting your head, you took his cock back into your mouth, burying it all the way to the hilt in your throat. Jungkook’s hips jumped, him groaning against your clit, the vibrations sending shocks right through you.

A few swallows around his cock and a few more jabs to that spot inside of you and both of you were cumming. Your body tensed, hips rutting faster against his face to ride it out. He thrusted his hips up once, twice, three times before letting out a drawn out moan as he pumped his release down your waiting throat. Your body shivered as buzzing pleasure raced down your back and to your toes. You don’t think you’ve had an orgasm like that since…….three days ago when Jungkook ate you out in his car after he had to pick you up because you forgot to get gas.

Amazing car head aside, the party wasn’t over yet.

“Sit on it, bug. Hurry.” Jungkook rushed you, tapping your ass a few times, his breath labored and tone dripping with desperation.

Good thing you were just as eager because you crawled forward on your weak knees until he was lined up with your entrance. Reaching between your legs, you held his wet cock steady as you slid down on it. Jungkook’s hands held your ass cheeks apart to watch, eyes blurring slightly as your hot, tight, and gushing walls wrapped around him. You weren’t faring much better, your head knocking back as his thick cock stretched you to your limits. It didn’t matter how many times you had taken his cock, the pure g i r t h always knocked the breath out of you. This is why you couldn’t leave him alone, his cock was just too fucking good. You’d be damned if you ever let someone else take it from you.

Once you were settled to the hilt, your body leaned all the way forward to rest between his legs and you began bouncing your ass on his cock.

Jungkook was mesmerized by how your fat ass rippled and moved against his pelvis. At this moment, he didn’t give a damn how many women you threatened or how much you pissed him off; just the sight of your ass and the feeling of your juicy cunt wrapped around him was enough to make him remember another reason why he couldn’t let you the hell go. He loved your pussy too much. And if that wasn’t enough, the sight of that tiny ‘♡JK’ tatted on your left ass cheek certainly let him know.

Jungkook’s hands came down to slap repeatedly on your bouncing ass. “Faster baby. Fuck, this ass is so good!” The seat of your ass was wet from a combination of spit and cum, the wet slapping noises filling the space. Your moans were in competition with the clapping of your ass, your cheek pressed against the sheets and your nails digging into his calves.

“Ahhh! This cock is so b-big,” you whine, “love it so much…..right there….! Oohhhh-ohhhh fuck!”

Lifting up a little and adjusting your knees to a better position, you began throwing yourself down on his cock, the head brushing against every spot you had and sending you reeling. You’d come all the way up until just the tip was inside before slamming back down, the bed shaking underneath the force. Jungkook’s toes curled, your cunt gripping him tighter than a vice.

He was about 98% sure his soul left his body, eyes rolling and head knocking back against the pillows as his lungs struggled for air.

Not able to hold it anymore, Jungkook was quickly flipping your positions. Now it was your turn to be on your back, your legs spread in a wide V shape, his cologne invading your senses and his lips covering yours. He was everywhere, all over you. Your skin was on fire from his touch, sweat soaking your back and air becoming sparse as he kissed away what little oxygen you had left. You were obsessed with him. He was yours as you were his. Nothing would ever change that.

His cock buried itself back into your walls, a deep moan of pleasure getting caught in your throat once he began jackhammering into you. Your hands gripped the bottom of your feet, keeping them apart so he could continue to plow into your soft spot. His hips moved like a well oiled machine, making noisy contact with your ass with every thrust.

Your mouth dropped open, “oh my…..fffucking g-god…!” Tears welled up in your eyes as blinding pleasure spread over every nerve in your body.

Jungkook grunted, his own pleasure peaking at the sight of your fucked out face.

“Yeah? You about to cum? Are you gonna what the fuck I say and stop acting so fucking jealous? Huh?” Drool dripped down the sides of your mouth as you tried to form sentences but hurried ‘yes yes yes’ were the only words you could manage. “How many times do I have to fuck you before you get that through your thick head? I only want you. Fuck you push my fucking buttons but I know it’s just because you want me to fill up this tight cunt, isn’t that right?” A slap came across your cheek, orgasm crashing into your body without warning from the sudden strike.

Jungkook could feel wetness soaking his pelvis and cock, jaw tightening as he began moving even harder—the headboard knocking into the wall so hard that he doesn’t think he’ll get his security deposit back for this place.

“Juicy fucking cunt squirting all over me. Mhmmmm….I’m gonna fill this pussy up. You want that? Want me to send you home with my cum running down your legs?”

Your ears were ringing, his dirty talk propelling you right into another endless orgasm, your toes curling in the air as blissful overstimulation began to take over.

Jungkook wasn’t far behind, a few more thrusts and he was burying himself deep in your sopping cunt. His cock throbbed inside you, the thickness pressing right into your abused gspot. Your hands released your feet to scramble against his back, sharp acrylics digging into his skin and making him hiss in slight pain.

“Ohhhhhh shittttttt….fuck baby,” He groaned out as he pumped creamy ropes inside your clenching pussy, your spasming walls sucking him in and milking him for everything he was worth.

Both of you collapsed from exhaustion, Jungkook’s face planting itself in your breasts and your legs falling weakly to the bed with a light thump. Only the sounds of your heavy breathing filled the room, both of your hearts beating wildly as you two came down.

~

“So am I forgiven?” You asked as you two soaked in the tub, the scent of an apple scented bath bomb wafting around the room.

Jungkook was behind you, head leaned back against the wall as he tried not to fall asleep. “I guess so. Just stop doing that, okay? It’s so embarrassing.”

“Deal.”

A beat of silence washed over the room, just the sound of water lapping against the sides of the tub filling the space.

“One more time.” You suddenly said.

“Huh?”

“You asked me how many times do you have to fuck me before I get it through my thick head to stop being jealous. I think one more will do the trick.”

Jungkook let out a chuckle, opening his eyes only to find your beautiful irises staring back at him with that playful and lustful glint.

“You’re impossible.” He scoffed with an endearing shake of his head.

“But you love me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

[princessbrunette]

dbf!rafe thought he was doing a pretty good job at pretending he didn’t care too much about you. but it was coming to the late afternoon, and he’d driven past you wandering around town on your own wearing one of those stupid little mini skirts you’re crazy about and he had to do his duty and command you come with him. for your safety of course. he’d hate if some sick older guy got his hands on you.

“get in. c’mon.” he’s already acting irritable with you and it only spurs you on to act mischievous.

“why so glum, hm?” you pout, letting a small giggle slip through as you fasten your belt — the friend of your fathers glancing around the area briefly to see if anyone had seen his bosses daughter climb into his car before zipping off.

“what’d i tell you last time i saw you just— just walking around asking for trouble?” he berates and he’s not even sure why he’s so wound up. you just got him so pent up and touchy that he always found himself being this way with you.

“asking for trouble? mr cameron i was just hanging out.” you laugh, stretching your legs and going to rest your feet on his dashboard. he shoves your legs off, sending you a scalding glare.

“in that little skirt? yeah i wasn’t born yesterday, alright— you were probably off meeting guys.” he grumbles and you turn your head to him, heart fluttering at the jealous tone he had failed to conceal.

“oh no, not hanging out with guys my own age… that would be the most awful thing in the world, right?” you sark, and he resents the way he can hear the pretty smile in your voice without even turning his attention away from the road. he huffs out a scoff, shaking his head as he pulls up to the traffic light.

“told your old man i’d look out for you, right so — so i am just telling you that you shouldn’t be wandering around meeting guys dressed like a hooker. i know how guys brains work, okay — i am a guy. s’why i’m taking your ass home where you can’t get into any of that shit.” he rants, and before you can complain about him calling you a hooker your attention is caught by his promise to bring you home and you shoot up in your seat.

“no, please. just— anywhere else. not home.” you suddenly sound serious, and he nearly misses the stoplight turning green to glance at you in confusion.

“and why the hell not?” he drawls and suddenly you’re a lot more quiet. he raises his eyebrows waiting for a response.

“i’m fighting with my parents. i just… i don’t want to see them yet.” you sigh, staring at your manicure in your lap. as much as he wanted to teach you a lesson and drag you back into the house to your father, he knew what it was like to have a rocky relationship with his parents. because of this he sighs after his slight hesitation and turns in the direction away from your house.

“ah… shit, alright fine. the fuck do you wanna go then? gotta drop you somewhere, alright?” he relents and you beam.

“really? thanks mr cameron.” your elated expression calms itself into a pur as you lean across the gear stick and press a kiss to his cheek. he clenches his jaw.

“watch it.”

to this you respond with a giggle and he relaxes a little, knowing he had a little more time with you.

“where do you wanna go then? haven’t got all day, kid m’not a fuckin’ taxi.”

“hmm, your place?” you’re quick with your answer, almost like you had it planned. he’d given in a few times, let you have your way with him even though he knew it put his career on the line — and he told himself and you that this could go on no longer.

he huffs out a laugh, scratching at his cheek and shaking his head, choosing to ignore the suggestion. your bottom lip curls over at this, frowning a little.

“raaafe.” you whine and he resists an eye roll.

“what you’re — you’re serious about that shit?”

“mhm… i missed you…” you coo, and he feels your warm body lean across the centre console again, a clawed hand finding his thigh as you speak into his ear. “c’mon dad.” you groan and he feels a hot rush of blood fly through him at the nickname. god you were sick.

“don’t fuckin’ call me that.” he turns into his driveway at tannyhill, parking up infront of the house haphazardly before turning off the car and not making any move to get out.

“just wanna play a little bit.” you complain, kissing down his white shirt leaving lipgloss prints that he’d soon complain about down the expensive material as he watches you with parted lips, feeling your hot breath fan over his hardening crotch.

“well if you’re gonna suck me off just fuckin’ do it alright. don’t wanna hear that shrill ass little voice unless you’re tellin’ me how good that shit tastes. c’mon.”

you couldn’t help but obey.

[ultravioletbrit]

“hide” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 482 words

Part 1/5 (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)

Regulus is on his way to Pandora’s flat in student housing, which is basically a giant corn maze of connected flats. Regulus is looking down at the map Pandora gave him and when he looks up, that’s when he sees him.

Sirius is at the other end of the path walking directly towards him. He hasn’t noticed Regulus yet, but he will soon, and Regulus has no way out of this fucking maze. Regulus is going through his escape options when the guy in front of him turns and unlocks his door. Without thinking about it, Regulus follows the guy into his flat.

“What the fuck!?” The guy shouts.

Okay, Regulus kind of shoved the guy into his own flat and slammed the door behind them.

“What the fuck are you doing? Get—" The guy is coming back to the door, presumably to throw Regulus out.

“I need you to hide me!” Regulus interrupts him and looks out the peephole.

“Are you okay?” The guy calms down quickly and apparently takes pity on Regulus because he doesn’t throw him out, he actually sounds slightly concerned.

“Yes. I’m fine. I just need to hide for a few minutes, then I’ll leave.” Regulus tells him, scanning the path outside through the peephole.

“Who are you hiding from? Cops? Am I an accomplice?” Now the guy sounds almost excited at the prospect of being an accomplice to a crime. Who is this guy?

“No.” Regulus scoffs.

“Ex?” The guy guesses.

“No.”

“Big, scary guy with an axe?”

“No. Why would that be your next guess?” Regulus asks, irritated.

“I don’t know. You’re not giving me a lot to go on here.”

“Brother.” Regulus says with a deep sigh.

“Ahh… Does he have an axe?”

“No, he does not have an axe.” Regulus says exasperatedly as he turns around. “Look, I just need to… Jesus.” Regulus’ words die on his tongue when he gets his first real look at this guy because he does in fact look like some kind of deity.

“James, actually.” The guy, James, says with a smirk. “And thank you.”

“I… you… for what?” Regulus sputters.

“You’re rather gorgeous as well.” James says, and Regulus’ eyes go wide at the implication.

“I didn’t say…” Regulus honestly isn’t sure what he’s said in the last 20 seconds.

“You saw me, swore under your breath, looked me up and down, and you’re blushing up to your ears. I came to my own conclusion.” James shrugs, effectively mortifying Regulus. “Plus, I know I look good today.” He adds and winks at Regulus.

“And you’re so humble as well. You—"

Regulus is cut off by the sound of the door knob jiggling followed by loud knocking.

“Prongsie!! Your door’s locked! Let me in!”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Regulus groans.

Of all idiots he could have shoved into their own flat, he had to choose this one.

[gor3-hound]

KISS AND MAKE UP — NAOYA + TOJI

a/n: another commission for my faveeee @nexysworld. MWAH. just a heads up, naoya is referred to as reader n toji’s cousin just cause second cousin sounded weird in writing idk.

cw: 18+ content. daddy-daughter incest (toji), cousin incest (toji/naoya-ish. naoya/reader). threats + slapping (directed at naoya). misogyny. kinda maybe brief dub-con. p in v. oral (f + m receiving). fem!reader. slapping. hair pulling. creampie.

2.8k words

Your dad has been gone for the better part of a week when he decides to wander into the house one morning — surprisingly early giving his typical track record of showing up well past midnight. You’re nursing a cup of coffee, nodding in greeting as his gaze lands on you.

“My cousin is coming over later.” Toji huffs as soon as he steps into the kitchen, lazily leaning against the doorway. Irritation is written all over his features. “Play nice, y'hear? I don't need gramps bitchin’ at me. Y'know what Naoya is like with his daddy.”

Naoya. The mention of his name alone is enough to have you scowling, your expression twisting in a similar manner to Toji’s. That only seems to annoy your father further, an exasperated sigh spilling past his lips. “N’ don’t give me that look, kid. Or him, for that matter. I ain’t dealin’ with another one of his rants about how I raised my daughter with a shitty attitude.”

“He thinks any woman who breathes too loud isn’t raised right.” You counter, huffing as you set your coffee down on your counter.

“Ain’t my problem,” your dad replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “You only have to see him once or twice a year. Suck it up.”

“How long is he even staying?”

Toji is an asshole, but he isn’t evil. He feels a little bad, considering how much you and your cousin tend to butt heads. His lips thin at your question, pressing together as he walks over to ruffle your hair and pull you against his side. “Couple ‘a days. Sorry, kid.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Naoya’s gotten at least a hundred times worse since you last saw him. It’d been a year or so since you were forced to be in his presence for more than an hour at a time, and now that he’s hit his twenties and has been getting more duties in the clan, he seems to think he’s God’s greatest gift. He’s not even a full-year older than you, and yet he loves giving you the whole ‘respect your elders, girl’ spiel everytime you so much as frown in his presence.

He’s been here for a day, and you’re already counting down the minutes until he leaves. Your dad said an important job came up — an excuse to escape Naoya, you’re certain — so you don’t even have him to try and attempt to get Naoya to ease up.

You might genuinely go insane before your dad decides to show up again. If you hear him say that you ‘missed a spot’ while making you clean up his mess one more goddamn time, you’re going to end up in a cell.

“If I’m going to cook for you,” you say in a low tone, swallowing thickly to attempt not to snap. If only to save the lecture you’d inevitably get from Naoya, then your father, and then the head of the clan when Naoya eventually went whining to his dad. “You can at least take the plate to the kitchen after.” “And why should I?” He scoffs, that insufferable grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he regards you with an icy stare. “You’re here. Isn’t this kind of thing the purpose of your… species?”

The muscle of your jaw ticks at his words. You can’t even muster up the strength to force a polite smile on your face, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides. Better to act like a proper lady than retaliate and have him being even more insufferable than usual. Your silence almost seems to piss him off more — you’re starting to think he gets a rise out of seeing you act out.

“You know, the women of this family are disgraceful.” He continues. “Not one of you was raised with proper manners. My father is too soft on all of you. When I am head of this clan, I plan to—”

“Please. Your own dad thinks you’re an asshole. He’s just waiting for an excuse to pass it onto someone else. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” You bite out, unable to hold your tongue any longer.

Silence fills the room for a few tense seconds. Naoya just… blinks at you, shock written over his features. Shock quickly turns to disbelief, as if the thought of you talking back to him was completely out of his realm of possibility. “Pathetic. You can’t even hear simple facts without growing emotional. The audacity you have to speak to me in such a way is…”

He trails off, lips curling into a sneer as he looks at you. “You should consider yourself lucky I even allow you to speak in my presence, you insolent little—”

“One more fuckin’ word.” The cold voice that cuts through Naoya’s words aren’t your own, but it is a voice you immediately recognise. Your head turns to face your father, the man standing in the doorway with a stony expression.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Naoya replies, though you don’t miss the slight waver in his voice.”I was simply correcting the behaviour you refuse to address. My father wouldn’t stand for this treatment of the heir of the—”

“Apologise to my fuckin’ daughter, or I’ll send you back to your daddy in a body bag, kid.” The words aren’t an empty threat — something you and Naoya seem to realise at the exact same time. You watch closely as your cousin swallows his pride, gaze falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, words barely audible. It’s a pathetic attempt, really. One your own father isn’t nearly satisfied with.

“Oh, now you wanna keep quiet, huh? Known you since you were a fuckin’ infant, and I’ve never known you to to know when to shut the fuck up. Say sorry properly.” Toji snaps. Naoya opens his mouth to give another half-hearted apology, but Toji is faster as he speaks up again. “Better be a good one.”

Your dad pauses briefly to think, then he’s stepping closer. “Y’know what? I think you should show you’re really sincere. Get on your knees, and say sorry to my kid.”

Naoya does an exceptionally good impression of a fish — mouth opening and closing multiple times as he stares blankly up at Toji. “You… You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t fuckin’ try me today. I’ve had shitty luck with the races, and I’d love to blow off some steam. I’m sick of you and that old man treatin’ us like shit.”

Naoya swallows hard, slowly rising from your battered sofa. He shifts slightly towards you, refusing to meet your gaze as he sinks down to his knees on the floor. “I apologise.”

“Better,” Toji hums, moving to stand behind you, guiding you to the spot Naoya was just sitting. He’s practically kneeling at your feet now, expression indecipherable. “Sit down, baby. Let’s get him to make it up to you, yeah?”

The tone of voice makes you shiver, eyes flicking up to your dad’s face. Between his soft coo and the way he’s looking at you, you feel your cheeks heat. It’s a familiar expression, but never one you’ve received when in the company of others. “Spread your legs for me, good girl.”

Naoya’s head snaps up then, eyes wide as he looks at Toji. You’re unable to school your own expression as you gaze down at Naoya, taking in the way he’s acting. You can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, finally having him knocked down a few pegs. You swallow the lump forming in your throat, your heart fluttering nervously as you follow your dad’s command. 

“Show her how sorry you really are, hmm?” Toji purrs, all low as he takes a handful of Naoya’s dyed hair, forcing his face against your clothed cunt. He stiffens, but then he’s quickly melting against you, nuzzling closer to your heat. 

“Not so talkative now.” Toji scoffs, squatting down as he uses his grip as leverage to make Naoya rub against you more. The action draws a soft whine from the back of your throat, your head falling back against the sofa. “Got you actin’ like a well-trained dog, just from the scent of some pussy? You really have that much trouble gettin’ girls in bed, huh?”

Naoya bristles at his words, but he’s visibly more docile than usual as he allows Toji to guide him against you. You’re getting impatient yourself now, squirming against the cushions. 

“You want a taste, cousin?” And Naoya nods within seconds, eagerly opening his mouth and exhaling harshly. The hot air fans against the damp fabric of your panties in a way that instantly has heat shooting to your core. “Always bein’ a fuckin’ brat, think you even deserve it?”

Toji pulls Naoya back, and you find satisfaction in the pathetic little whine he lets out, even if you find yourself immediately missing his presence between your legs. 

“Daddy, please.” You breathe, voice a mix of needy and pleading. You instantly see the way he softens — something you only ever really get the luxury of seeing — before he lets go of Naoya’s hair. 

“Go on, then.” Toji murmurs, and Naoya doesn’t even blink before his fingers are desperately grasping at your skirt, bunching up the fabric at your waist and tugging your panties to the side before he dives in. 

A low, breathless ‘fuck’ spills past his lips as his tongue licks a long, wet stripe along your dripping cunt, collecting the wetness that had gathered there. He groans against you, nose nudging at your clit as he tongue-fucks you in earnest. His lashes flutter as he gazes up at you, the taste of you making him feel a little light-headed. 

You’ve never seen him so invested in anything. He has a lazy sort of arrogance that follows his every action, but he looks like nothing more than an over-excited puppy as he laps at you with an almost feverish intensity. His eyes are heavy lidded, fingers gripping onto your legs with a harshness that makes you think you’ll be left with bruises as a reminder of what happened. 

“Make her cum, and I might even let you have a treat,” Toji teases. Your peak is rapidly approaching by the time his voice takes your attention away from Naoya. You’d almost forgotten your dad was only feet away, watching the both of you closely. He’s clearly enjoying this — if the tent stretching his pants obscenely was anything to go by. 

Naoya is only spurred on by his words, dragging his mouth upwards until his lips suction around your clit. He sucks eagerly, tongue flicking against the swollen bud until you’re writhing and crying out beneath him. The way Toji sees it, the two of you have never gotten on so well. 

“Nao, please… need… just a little more.” You babble, hand reaching down to tug at his hair. He moans against you, tongue pressing flat against your clit. Your thighs clench around his head, body tensing as you gush all over his tongue. He keeps licking until he’s tugged away, hazy-eyed and hard as a rock. 

“My… treat?” Naoya mutters hoarsely. He’s never one to miss out on… anything that benefits him, really. He’s twitching in his trousers, leaking pre-cum steadily, and he’s just about ready to accept anything that’ll let him get off.

“Always an impatient brat.” Toji says under his breath, large hands coming down to position you on the sofa — hands and knees against the cushions — before stripping off his pants and boxers. “Think Naoya’s sorry, baby. Wanna return the favour while daddy has a turn on your pretty little pussy?”

You’re still panting from your previous orgasm, but the idea of being stuffed from both ends has your cunt pulsing. You flinch a little as your dad slides into you, whimpering softly as your walls flutter around him. You’re still sensitive, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans. 

“Aww, cute. Tryna be quiet, baby?” Toji coos, thrusting forward hard, just once, to make you squeal. “Naoya can help with that, yeah? Gonna let him fill that mouth?”

You nod, and Naoya considers that permission. You’ve never seen someone move so fast, his hands hastily pulling at his clothes. He slides onto the couch, kneeling in front of you. 

The only issue with his mouth no longer being preoccupied is he’s now capable of speaking again, and he makes that known to the entire room. He slowly slides his length past your lips, head titling back as the tight, wet heat of your mouth engulfs him. 

“Fuck, that’s good. I knew there had to be a reason my cousin kept you around, considering how useless you are at everything else.” As soon as the words leave his lips, the sharp, harsh sound of skin of skin fills the room. You don’t realise what happened at first, but Toji hips stutter at the exact moment Naoya lets out a sharp hiss of pain. 

Your dad hit him. Hard enough to have his cheek glowing red, his head cocked to the side from the force of the smack. You expect a tantrum, another speech. You get neither. 

His hips buck so violently his cock lodges itself deep in your throat, making you gag. Your eyes water at you look up at him, his pupils blown as a smug smile stretches across his face. 

“Weird little freak.” Your dad grunts, still fucking into you with further. His hands find your hips, pulling you back against his thrusts as you drool eagerly all over Naoya’s cock. 

“Guilty,” Naoya purrs in reply, words cocky and self-assured as he threads his hands in your hair to hold you steady, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck your face. 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re talkin’ to my daughter, or I’ll make you sit in the corner and watch me play with her instead.” Toji growls. 

At least that seems to quieten him down, if only so he doesn’t have to give up the pleasure your mouth is bringing him. Naoya’s thighs begin to twitch at the same time his grip in your hair tightens. You work harder at licking along his length, sucking eagerly as he fucks your throat. 

“Come… coming, fuck.” Naoya hisses, forces the entirety of his length down your throat. You choke as his seed fills your throat, unable to do anything but swallow with your nose pressed firmly against his pelvis. You cough and splutter when he finally pulls out, a mix of cum and spit coating your lips and chin as he collapses in the corner of the couch. 

He watches lazily as your dad fucks you. Toji takes the opportunity to push your chest into the couch, nuzzling the nape of your neck to let you hear the quiet grunts he lets out against your skin as his chest presses against your back. His grip on your hips is tight, yanking you back to meet each of his thrusts. 

His cock hits that spongy spot inside of you that has you positively mewling with each jolt of his hips, his lips hot and hungry as he trails kisses along your skin. “Fuck, baby. So pretty. Such a good girl for me, so good… go on, cum for me, sweetheart. Show Naoya how good you are for daddy.”

His words are your undoing, a broken cry leaving you as you cream around his cock, slick coating his length and dripping down his balls. He thrusts lazily a few more times, biting down on your shoulder as he cums deep inside your trembling cunt. 

You flop down almost immediately, falling boneless against the couch. Your head falls against Naoya’s thigh, chest heaving with each panting breath you let out. 

“Might as well come up here,” Naoya hums with surprising softness, arm falling away from his side languidly. It’s about as open as an invitation to snuggle as you’re going to get. 

You shift up against his body, dropping down against his chest with a tired sigh. Toji just laughs, leaning back in his heels. “Christ. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Naoya glares at him, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your eyes are already shut, and Naoya’s close a moment later. Only moments later, you’re both passed out. 

“Brats.” Toji grumbles under his breath as he pulls a throw blanket around your sleeping forms, an unmistakable fondness to his tone. 

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 5 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Three years ago

I can’t move. That’s the first thing I realize when I open my eyes.

I’m not in pain, but I’m confused. It’s loud. People are shouting. Sirens are going off and it smells like smoke and gasoline.

Where am I?

The last thing I remember is reaching past my parents in the front seats of the car to change the radio station. Then, tires screeching, a pair of bright headlights and then. . . nothing.

“Mom?” I croak. “Dad?”

I try to turn my head, but I can’t because I still can’t move.

I can’t move. . .

I can’t move!

Panic swells in my chest and I frantically look around, frozen in place as my breathing speeds up and turns shallow.

“Dad!” I sob, and a second later a face swims into view above me. It’s not my dad though, even though this guy’s firefighter uniform looks exactly like my dad’s.

He’s young, maybe my age, and has sparkling blue eyes, even in the darkness.

“Hey there,” he says with a strained smile, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I’m Leroy. You and your parents have been in an accident and we’re working on getting you out, okay?”

I whimper and try to shake my head, but once again, I can’t. “I can’t— I can’t move. Why can’t I move? Where are my parents?”

Leroy lifts my head carefully and puts a neck brace around my neck. “You’re in shock. It’s probably just that, but we’ll get you to the hospital to get it checked out. Your parents are already being taken care of. Don’t worry, they’re in good hands.”

He shines a light in my eyes and runs his fingers through my hair to check for any head injuries. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I. . . No, not really.” I’m crying and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the darkness that surrounded me before from consuming me again. “I’m scared,” I whisper. “I’m scared, Leroy.”

“I know,” he says, his blue eyes shining with sympathy. “But we’ll get you out of here, I promise.”

That’s the last thing I see and hear before I once again black out.

Present

The irritating sound of a heartbeat monitor beeping right next to my ear wakes me up.

I groan inwardly and shift, opening my eyes. I’m in the hospital. The room is dimly lit and a glance outside the window to my left reveals that the sun is about to rise.

My neck aches and the sudden though of my parents make my heart drop.

The accident. Leroy. I have to get to them. I have to make sure they’re okay.

I shift, whimpering in relief when I realize that I can move, and go to sit up, but then a hand on my shoulder pushes me back, stopping me.

“Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy.”

That voice. I know that voice. My eyes widen and when I look up, my breath gets caught in my throat.

Sam. She’s here. She came. Her brown eyes are red-rimmed and full of worry, and her touch on my shoulder sends a shiver down my spine.

“You’re here,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

She furrows her eyebrows but nods, taking her hand back when she realizes she’s still touching me. “Of course.“

“You came,” I say, still in disbelief, which makes her frown even more, but then the thought of my parents returns. “My parents. . . How are they? Have the doctors told you anything?”

“What?” A weird look crosses her face. It’s a mixture of confusion and sympathy and it makes uneasiness wash over me.

“My parents,” I say again. “Are they okay? Where are they?”

Sam takes a seat on the chair next to my bed and slowly folds her hands in her lap. “Your parents aren’t here, Y/N,” she says cautiously.

I pause, taken aback. “What do you mean they aren’t here? Where are they?”

Sam stares at me for a moment before something dawns on her. Her eyes fill with remorse and she swallows thickly. “Don’t you— I— They’re dead, Y/N. Don’t you remember?”

I feel like she just pulled the rug out from under my feet, but then the memories come rushing back. The accident, the funeral, my recovery, selling the house, saving Tara, getting stabbed by Ghostface and then passing out on the hospital floor in front of her.

They’re dead. My parents are dead. Sam didn’t come back for me. She came back for Tara. I got stabbed.

My eyes fill with tears, but I’m quick to blink them away. “Right. . .”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispers. She tries to place a hand on my forearm, but I pull it away, ignoring the way her face drops.

“Don’t,” I warn quietly. She has no right to feel sorry now, and I don’t need her to comfort me. I don’t need her. Not anymore. I’ve learned to live without her.

“Y/N, please,” she whispers, making me clench my jaw.

“Please what, Sam?” I snap.

She flinches slightly and looks at me with watery eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I swallow thickly and try to keep my face from showing any emotions. She can’t know how much she hurt me, and she can’t know how much I’m still hurting— how much I still feel for her. “For what?” My voice sounds flat and very unlike myself.

“For everything.” Sam moves her chair closer, but she doesn’t try to touch me again. “For not telling you about my real father, for leaving, for pushing you away. . . I’m so sorry. I thought I was protecting you and I thought you’d hate me if you knew the truth.” She stifles a sob and it takes everything in me not to reach out and comfort her the way I’ve done so many times before.

“When I told you to stop calling me. . . I had no idea about your parents,” she goes on, “I had no idea what had happened, but then Tara told me a-and I hated myself so much for not being there for you.”

“Stop,” I plead as a hot tear rolls down my cheek. I don’t want to hear any more. All of this is just a little too late.

She doesn’t stop though.

“I fucked up, Y/N. So bad. After Tara told me. . . I wanted to come back. I wanted to come to the funeral, but I was scared. I was scared I’d pushed you away too much. I was terrified of returning and finding you hated me. You. . . The only one who ever—”

“Please, stop.” I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut.

This time, she actually does stop, but she’s still crying quietly and when I open my eyes again, I almost want to close them again at the look of desperation on her face. I know she wants to say so much more, but I just can’t handle it right now.

The last twenty four hours have been absolutely crazy, and I’m not in the right headspace to process all of this properly. A part of me is glad she’s apologizing and giving me the answers to all the questions I’ve had since she left, but like I said, I just can’t take it right now.

“How’s Tara?” I ask quietly, changing the subject.

Sam clears her throat softly and averts her eyes, wiping away her tears. “She’s okay,” she whispers. “High on painkillers.” She forces a small smile.

“Good.” Some of the tension leaves my body, but then I remember what happened right before I blacked out. “And Dewey?”

I’m pretty sure I already know, but I have to know for sure and the way Sam curls in on herself gives me the answer I need. Nonetheless, she still says what I’m dreading.

“He didn’t make it.”

I feel my jaw quivering, so I bite down on my tongue to stop any more emotions from bubbling up. We weren’t close over the last three years, but he still meant a lot to me.

He taught me how to skate when I was a kid and he was there for me every time my dad was deployed when he was still in the army.

“There’s something else,” Sam says cautiously. “Ghostface”— she wrings her hands in her lap—“killed Wes and his mom.”

I stop biting my tongue and let out a shuddering breath.

No. Not Wes.

He was the sweetest of all of Tara’s friends and he and I always got along great.

And Sheriff Hicks? That poor woman. She was annoying sometimes, yes, but she was still a human being and no one deserves to die like that.

I go to say something, but then the door opens. “Hey Sam, Tara’s asking for you,” Richie whispers, not noticing I’m awake. “She wanted to—Oh, hi. . .you’re awake. How are you feeling?” he asks when he realizes I’m watching him.

“Been better,” I mumble, hoping my red-rimmed eyes aren’t too noticeable. I honestly feel like I’ve been run over by a truck and then some, but I’ve felt worse. The accident that killed my parents left me temporarily paralyzed from the neck down, and the spinal surgeries I had to undergo to reverse said paralysis—and the following months of physical therapy—were excruciatingly painful. I am not about to disclose all of that to Richie though, much less in front of Sam, so I just add, “What about you? How’s your arm?”

“Wha—? Oh yeah, that.” Richie lifts his arm to show that it’s been bandaged and taken care off. “It’s a little sore, but I’m okay. Nothing compared to what happened to you.” He smiles, trying to come across as compassionate, but for some reason, it rubs me the wrong way.

I’m too tired to dwell on it though, so I just hum in agreement and sink back into the bed with a sigh. I can feel Sam’s eyes on me, but she doesn’t say anything and when Richie clears his throat awkwardly, saying once again how Tara asked for her, she gets up and follows him to the door.

“We’ll let you get some rest,” she says quietly. “If you need anything, we’ll be right down the hall.”

I nod and meet her eye just as she’s about to leave. “Please don’t tell Tara how hurt I actually am,” I say quietly. “I don’t want her to worry.”

Sam knits her eyebrows, concerned and obviously not liking the idea of keeping something like this from Tara, but she eventually inclines her head and smiles a very tight-lipped smile before leaving.

She didn’t know about my parents. . . She told me to stop calling and hung up because she didn’t know any better, not because she hated me. She wanted to come, but she was scared.

All of those revelations mend a tiny fragment of my broken heart, but they don’t change the fact that she did hang up and that she didn’t come back.

We’re both hurting, and there’s no way of knowing how this whole Ghostface mess will turn out, but hearing her apologize and seeing her cry over the loss of our friendship makes me believe there’s hope for us to maybe restore what we once had in the future.

First, we have to deal with Ghostface though, and then we’ll see where we stand.

After Sam and Richie left, I fell asleep for a couple of hours. The surgery wore me out more than I thought it would and I definitely needed the rest.

Now, I’m once again awake though because Liam and Paige, both bewildered, just stormed into my room. Well, Paige stormed in. Liam trailed behind her with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“You’re such an asshole, Y/N!” Paige exclaims.

I blink, tired and confused, and stare at her. “Excuse me?”

Liam smiles sheepishly and sets the bag down next to my bed, waiting for Paige to finish hugging me before embracing me himself.

“This is the second time you’ve been stabbed now, and you almost died this time!” she rambles, gesturing wildly with her hands. “You can’t die! You hear me? I will personally guard you from now on if it means it’ll keep you safe!”

Liam, who’s a lot calmer, guides her to sit in the chair Sam occupied earlier before pulling up a second chair and taking a seat himself. “Damn, Paige, stop rambling. Y/N just woke up.”

Paige slaps his shoulder. “Shut up. I’m not rambling. I’m just worried.”

“You do know that those two things aren’t mutually exclusive, right?” He points out, laughing softly which makes Paige roll her eyes and lean back in her chair with her arms crossed.

She looks like she’s about to argue again, so I quickly interrupt, my voice scratchy since I haven’t used it in a couple of hours. “I’m touched you guys are worried about me, but I’m fine.”

Liam raises an eyebrow at that and Paige glares at me.

“You’re fine?” she snaps, her voice shrill. “You almost died, Y/N! You’re anything but fine.”

She’s right, but I don’t want her or Liam to worry. Not right now at least. They have to keep themselves safe and worry about me later because I’ve come to the realization that Ghostface might be going after them next since he’s now failed to kill me twice, and what better way to hurt me than to hurt the people I love.

“She’s right,” Liam agrees quietly, and it breaks my heart to see both of them this distraught over what happened.

I run my free hand through my hair and close my eyes for a moment before adjusting the sling around my neck. “Fine, okay. . .I might be a little banged up—“

“A little—?!”

“But,” I cut Paige off, “I know that it could have been a lot worse. I know that I could have died, believe me, but I’m not dead, and I’m not planning on dying any time soon either.” I pause and just look at them for a moment.

If something ever happened to them because of me— if Ghostface decides to go after them because of me—I’d blame myself for it for the rest of my life.

“Look,” I say quietly. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and if I’m being honest, I’m fucking scared of getting hurt again, but I need you guys to do something for me.“

“And what’s that?” Liam asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I need you guys to get out of town for a while. Just until all of this is over.”

“What? No way! We’re not leaving you again,” Paige argues. She moves her chair closer to the bed and takes my hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Yeah no, not happening,” Liam agrees, also moving closer.

I sigh and squeeze Paige’s hand back. “Please, guys. Ghostface might come after you, too, and I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you two because of me.“

“No, Y/N. We’re not leaving you,” Liam says. “Let Ghostface come, I don’t care. We’ll handle it.”

Paige nods, but I shake my head. “No, you won’t. You have no idea what he’s capable of. He’s ruthless and cruel, and the fact that Tara and I have survived him twice now is nothing short of a miracle. He managed to kill Dewey and Sheriff Hicks, and they were both cops, trained in hand-to-hand combat. You won’t be able to do jack shit against him. Please, just leave. I can’t”— I feel tears well up in my eyes— “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Liam’s frown deepens. “But what about you? You’ll just stay a-and then what? Are you going to face him alone again? You’re hurt, Y/N! You’ll die!”

I shake my head again. “No, I’m not planning on facing him again. I don’t know what I’ll do yet, but I’ll probably leave, too. I just have to talk to Tara first because I promised to keep her safe and I’m not going anywhere without her.”

It’s quiet for a moment and Paige and Liam share an incredulous look before looking back at me.

“Okay,” Liam says finally, taking hold of my hand as well. “We’ll leave. I’m sure my parents won’t mind if we go visit them for a while.”

Liam’s parents live in San Francisco which is probably far away enough, but I’d prefer it if they flew to Pittsburgh to stay with Paige’s parents instead.

I know that’s unrealistic though since the plane tickets would be very expensive this short notice and while neither Paige nor Liam are poor, I can’t ask them to dip into their savings for this. It’s already bad enough that I’m getting them to leave.

“Thank you.” I let out a breath of relief. “I will keep you guys posted on everything.”

“You better,” Paige quips with a sad smile and I squeeze her and Liam’s hands reassuringly.

“Of course. . . Now, tell me how you even heard about the second attack. Was it on the news or something?” I ask and the sudden silence that follows makes me raise an eyebrow.

“Not really, no,” Liam says, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

What’s that supposed to mean?

I watch him expectantly, but Paige is the one who ultimately answers.

“Sam actually called me,” she says.

My eyebrows shoot up. “She did?” How does she even have Paige’s number? Also, I don’t even want to imagine how awkward that conversation was.

“Yeah, Tara gave her my number and told her to call while you were still in surgery,” she explains, hesitantly adding, “She seemed really worried about you.”

“Hmm.” I don’t know what else to say, so I just stay quiet.

I don’t doubt that Sam was worried. I mean, she was sitting next to my bed after my surgery and waited for me to wake up, but the fact that she was emotional enough during her call with Paige for Paige to notice says a lot.

She always tries to hide how she feels, especially in front of strangers, so she must have really been going through it if she couldn’t hide it as well as she usually does.

“Sooo,” Liam prompts cautiously, putting an end to my thoughts, “How are things between you two now? Is it weird that she’s back?”

I scoff and pick at my sling. “Yeah, it’s weird alright, but. . . she actually apologized earlier. For leaving and everything, you know?”

“And how do you feel about that?” Paige asks.

I mull it over for a moment and fight the urge to tell her she sounds like a therapist before answering. “I’m not sure, but it’s a start, I guess. She seemed genuinely sorry, but it doesn’t change how she made me feel.”

Liam hums and scratches his chin in thought. “Makes sense.”

Paige agrees as well. “Totally. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see how she acts when this whole Ghostface mess is over— if she leaves again or if she stays and tries to make it up to you.”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Yeah. . .”

I really hope she’ll stay because I want her back in my life, but if she decides to leave again, despite everything being out in the open now, I just know that we’re done for good. I don’t want us to be, but we will be. There’s only so much my heart can take, and she’s already shattered it once.

“So, what’s in the bag?” I ask, changing the subject and gesturing at the duffel bag Liam set down next to my bed.

“Just some comfy clothes,” Paige says. “We figured you would want to wear a hospital gown any longer than necessary, so we stopped by at your place to grab some of your stuff before coming here.”

“We also brought your toothbrush and some other toiletries, so you should be set for a couple of days,” Liam adds.

Their thoughtfulness makes my heart melt and I squeeze their hands softly, whispering, “Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”

Paige smirks and says, “We know,” which makes me roll my eyes.

Despite being high on painkillers, I still feel a stitch in my side and the back of my knee when I force myself out of bed.

Paige and Liam left a couple minutes ago after an hour of small talk and just catching up and promising to leave town immediately, which leaves me to change out of my ugly hospital gown alone.

I just managed to get my new pair of sweatpants on, and am currently reaching for my shirt when the door creaks open behind me.

I glance over my shoulder before focusing back on getting my shirt on.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Sam asks, her eyebrows furrowed as she closes the door behind her.

“I had to get out of that horrible hospital gown.” I hiss at the sting that shoots up my neck and down my arm when I try to get the shirt on.

For the purpose of getting it on, I’ve taken the sling off, but even without the sling, I can’t really move my arm without it hurting my shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Sam scolds quickly crossing the room. “Here, let me help.”

She carefully grabs my arm and helps me guide it through the armhole of the shirt.

Her touch feels electric on my bare skin and I shiver when her knuckles brush against my upper back, adjusting the shirt.

A second later, I freeze though because before she guides the shirt down my body, she gasps and runs her finger along the scar on my spine.

“Y/N. . .”

I swallow thickly and move away, pulling the shirt down.

No one except Liam and Paige know about the spinal surgeries and I would have liked to keep it that way, but I guess now it’s too late. It’s obvious they’re from the accident and I know Sam will have a bunch of questions, so I steel myself and take a deep breath before turning around.

Instead of saying anything though, Sam just stares at me with watery eyes. Her mouth moves, as though she wants to say something, but nothing comes out and then, she just surges forward and hugs me.

It’s the last thing I expected her to do, but unlike before when I pulled my arm out of her reach when she was apologizing, I don’t pull back.

I let her hug me, feeling her shuddering breath on the side of my neck. And then, much to my own surprise, I hesitantly hug her back.

It makes her let out a strangled sob and I sigh, tightening my hold on her.

The last twenty four hours have been hell for all of us, and we don’t know what’s yet to come, so who am I to deny either of us this tiny bit of comfort and security. Sam feels warm in my arms and I briefly close my eyes, remembering all the times before she left when I held her just like this.

“Sam?” I whisper.

“Hmm?”

“We’re leaving,” I say, making her pull back just enough to look up at me. She isn’t crying, but there’s a storm of emotions raging in the depths of her brown eyes. “You, me, and Tara. We can’t stay here while Ghostface is on the loose.”

“Yeah, I already talked to Tara about it,” she agrees quietly, curling her fingers around the fabric of my shirt. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

_______________________________________________

Bit of a shorter part, but the next one is going to be super long. Before that comes out though I have to finish and upload part 4 of The Bet.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @rqizzu @pithod @pussyydestroyer

—> I hope the tag list is complete, if I forgot you, I’m sorry, just leave a comment or message me and I’ll add you next time

Also, if you ask me to tag you “in the next part”, I’ll just add you to the tag list and tag you every time a new part comes out. If you want to be taken off the tag list, message me or leave a comment :)

[glossykissies]

maybe reader complaining about soldier boy smoking so he ties her up w a vibrator to her clit and smokes in front of her… 🤭 he’s so mean (we love it)

there wasn’t many things you hated, especially not when it came to soldier boy. you liked the things most people didn’t like about him — the fact he was ruthless, the fact he could be cold toward others, brutal. his character itself was perfect, and the more he was around you the happier you were.

what you couldn’t stand, was the smoking.

you get it, he comes from a different time before all the anti-smoking propaganda. he was mostly indestructible, so the health thing wasn’t exactly a concern— but he was getting too comfortable. smoking in your apartment, stinking up your pretty little living space — and that, you couldn’t do.

you come home from the bakery, baguette beneath your arm and a couple of moorish pastries bagged up in each fist ready to put away until you needed the snack — and there’s ben, staring pensively over the city, staring out your window, smoking.

“ben.” you pout, stopping your movements in putting away your purchases to lightly stomp your foot. “i told you.”

“told me what.” he hums, barely listening as he was clearly in deep thought. you huff, you hate when he got into these grumpy moods.

“you can’t just smoke in my apartment! atleast open a window.” you stomp over to the window beside him, pushing it open and staring at him pointedly. what you wanted to him to do, was chuck it out. but instead, he simply stares at you — taking a long drag. you purse your lips angrily, trying to think of another argument to make him speak atleast. “you know that’s bad for you.” you point your chin up, matter of factly. he reacts now, turning a little more toward you with a chuckle.

“for me? you do know i’m…” he taps a heavy fist over his lungs. “pretty indestructible, sweetheart.”

“okay, well have you considered that it’s bad for me? not everyone is a supe, you know.” you’re getting more and more hot and bothered by the fact he just won’t listen. he watches you before rolling his eyes up at the ceiling.

“you don’t seriously believe all that second-hand-smoke bullcrap, do you? god damn, what in the fuck are they teaching kids in school these days? school wasn’t that long ago for you now, was it?” his irritation turns to amusement as he smirks down at you cruelly, addressing the age gap between the two of you meanly.

“you’re being unfair.” you step closer, and he smiles, taking a drag before blowing a cloud of cigar smoke in your face.

“and what the hell are you gonna do about it, babyface?”

naturally, you throw a tantrum — and wind up right where you thought you might, on your bed with your legs spread. but your man isn’t between them, no. he’s pulling up a chair with a new cigar between his lips, having just finished tying you open on the bed, vibrator pressed firmly to your aching clit.

“now i’m not a bad guy, sweetheart.” he begins, voice rumbling deep making you clench around nothing. “am i? didn’t gag you, not yet anyway so you can fuckin’ respond when i speak.” he prompts, nodding to you before taking another long drag. the room is cloudy now, but not as cloudy as your brain.

“n—nuh—no!” you whine pathetically.

“too right. no. done a lot of bad things, sure. fucked up a loooot of people. but i’m not bad. not to you.” he pauses thoughtfully. another drag. you’re raw and aching and you just wanna cum but it’s just not enough. “so i think it’s fair… that i get to do whatever the fuck i want around here, and as long as i’m treating you like a pretty princess — you can’t tell me shit. does that sound fair to you?” he tilts his head, raising his eyebrows and you mewl. you want to say no. you don’t agree. but fuck, you loved him.

“yes!” you squeak.

“yes who?”

“yes sir.”

with that, he smiles slowly, reaching over and stubbing the cigar out on the ashtray he’d placed on your pretty pink dresser. standing, you finally see the length of him tenting his pants and you suddenly start feeling like maybe the little vibration he’s offered you is enough to make you cum, because you start throbbing.

ben cups your cheek, stroking a thumb over your forehead, then your cheek, and then tugs playfully at your bottom lip as you stare up, glassy eyed, whimpering and desperate. “sweet thing.” he tsks, giving in and kissing you.

he tastes like tobacco, and you don’t even mind.

[hyabbstay]

c.b.g. - hang around by echosmith (it's like you were tailor-made for me)

song: hang around by echosmith (listen)

-- in which beomgyu thinks he might be a little too much for you. god forbid you'll ever make him think that.

genre: slight angst, fluff/comfort

note: i just love beomgyu so much guys he's my bias u dont understand he deserves to be held and loved and praised all the time i love him sm hhhhhhh 🥹 let him be his silly self he's so cutehsakjdhakdaskd

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“You were never this naughty before!” Yeonjun pointed out, casting an accusatory glare at the man beside you. Meanwhile, the man in question - your boyfriend, was doubled over in laughter, blindly reaching out to hold on to your shoulders while he gasped into your hair. You stood, grinning mischievously at Yeonjun.

“Hey,” you said playfully, “I’m exactly the same as before I met you guys!”

“Not after becoming his girlfriend, though,” Yeonjun glared at Beomgyu, who was now peeking at him from behind you, still shaking with laughter. You could feel him shuddering on your back. “Now give me back my sweater! I have a date!”

You gave in and pulled the clothing from behind your back, but Beomgyu whined. Well, you still were not as cheeky as him yet, but you reluctantly tossed it at Yeonjun. The older boy made a face at you both before moving to his bedroom.

Beomgyu collapsed in laughter on the couch, clapping his hands together like a seal. He enjoyed getting a rouse out of annoying his roommates, a naughty boy indeed, but his joy was contagious. You began to giggle again until it turned to a full-blown laughter.

You both had calmed down the minute Yeonjun shut the front door. Sighing, Beomgyu leaned his body into yours, nuzzling his face in your neck. The next few minutes were spent wrapped in silence, save for the whirring of the fan and distant rumbling of rubber tyres on asphalt.

You're just what the doctor ordered for me You're one of a kind, yeah, I can barely believe It's like you were tailor-made for me I don't even mind that I've been losing my sleep

You felt Beomgyu’s fingers curl around your own, and you reciprocated the action.

“Am I that much of a bad influence?” he asked quietly, breath tickling your skin.

You scoffed, thinking it sounded a bit like a silly thing to be worried about, but followed it with a gentle smile. You knew he couldn’t see it while his face was hidden in your shoulder, but you spoke softly to reassure him, “Don’t take what they say so seriously. They’re harmless pranks, you know that.”

Beomgyu hummed, as if he was thinking, but somehow not yet convinced.

“It’s not something that’ll put us in the depths of hell, oh my god, just, probably in Yeonjun’s wrath.”

“They’re the same thing.” He was pouting when he raised his head to look at you.

“Then find someone else to annoy other than Yeonjun.”

His face morphed into a sneaky grin, he lifted his head to look into your eyes, “You?”

Silence.

Before you let escape the giggle you’ve been holding in, you caught the anxiety dancing around in Beomgyu’s eyes.

“Just kidding! I don’t want you to get annoyed at me.” He quickly draped his arm around your shoulders to pull you close. You melted when he pressed his plush lips against your temple, like he always did when he thought you were the slightest bit irritated at him.

It didn’t take much for you to remember how he used to appease his ex the same way, except back then, his eyes were always glossy with fear.

If you're like a fire then I'm pouring gasoline I just wanna hang around If I'm like an earthquake, you see past the fault in me I just wanna hang around

It killed you a little bit whenever you caught his actions, so you surprised him with a kiss on the lips. Beomgyu, although taken aback, leaned into the kiss, thumb caressing your waist. Physical touch was something he typically initiated, not you. Suddenly, he felt like soaring.

“What was that for?”

“For your adorable ass.” You raised his hand to press another kiss to it, “You’re never annoying, Gyu. You’re never too much. I love you.”

Beomgyu’s eyes were glossy once more, but for a different reason. The anxiety disappeared into nothingness, but something brighter shone in him when he heard those three words.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

a/n: this was originally written with a different song, but i figured this fits the narrative the most c: i interpret it as beomgyu's pov, he's happy he met reader and how she can see past things he thinks is aura points loss for himself lmao c: cutest cutest cuTEST GRR

[whimsicalpolitical]

Drunk business - Matty Healy x Reader

matty and you only get together when one of you is drunk

a/n: maybe a little series is going to happen? if you want

content warning: 18+ mdni, smut, alcohol, p in v, oral (f receiving)

Around midnight Matty went into the pub with his mates only a few streets from where you live so you figured he’s going to come over eventually.

By 3am you are finally starting to wind down, your eyes heavy as you sink into bed. Just as you are on the edge of sleep, your phone lights up, vibrating non-stop. One text after another from Matty floods your screen, pulling you back from the brink of sleep.

darling xxxxxx

are you awake??

can I come over ?

know it’s late x sorry

Before you can even register what his messages are saying, your phone starts to ring. Matty’s name flashes on the screen, and you groan out loud, swiping to answer.

"Matty, what?" you ask, rubbing your temple.

"Hi," he slurs. Of course, he is drunk.

"What do you want?" you ask, already tired of this conversation.

"You," he replies, his voice thick with alcohol.

"Oh, Jesus." You sigh, trying to push the irritation out of your tone. "Matty, it's 3 am. Go home."

"But I'm all alone, love. Can I come over?" he ask, the desperation clear.

You already knew where this was going. Matty gets drunk, shows up, you hook up, and then he's gone by morning. It is a stupid routine, one you aren’t in the mood for tonight. You know he doesn’t want anything real with you, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling something for him, and that just makes it worse.

“I’m not really in the mood, Matty,” you say, hoping he’d take the hint, “really-“

“Alright, alright, we can, we can just talk. Yeah let’s talk, please? Give me some company, darling.”

“Where are you?” You ask, hoping you can still convince him to turn around and just go home. Give you one free night of not feeling guilty or disgusting or used.

“Outside you house,” he says casually.

“What?!” You shoot up from bed, heart racing and before you can process it, the doorbell rings. You groan, louder this time.

You hang up and start walking through your house, your dog following you, barking one time before you shush him.

“Easy, Asher, s’just Matty, shh.”

You don’t want to admit it but Matty’s really good with your border collie and Asher loves him. Usually he’s not keen on new people but- Matty’s not new.

“Angel, come on!” Matty yells from outside. You hear him loud and clear while you stand in front of the front door.

“God,” you mutter under your breath.

You open the door, and there he is, leaning on the frame in his leather jacket, a sloppy grin on his face. "Hello, lovely," he slurs, grinning like he didn’t just disturb you at 3am.

You roll your eyes at him.

“May I come in?” He asks, swaying a bit.

“What did I say on the phone?” You exhale sharply, reminding him you aren’t going to fuck around tonight just because he’s lonely.

Matty’s brown eyes glow in the moonlight, begging for something moor, “you said no,” he pouts, his lip sticking out like a kid.

“So..?” You ask, teasing and pretending you won’t let him in the next few days.

“Means let me in,” he whines, “come on, love. I’m pretty decent, ‘nd behaving like a gentlemen.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. As much as you don’t want to, you step aside and let him in. He stands by the door, smiling at you, the strong smell of whiskey and cigarettes filling the room.

"How many have you had?" you ask, half laughing, half annoyed.

"Enough," he grins, trying to sound smooth.

He leans in to kiss you, but you stop him, gently holding his face. "I mean what I said, Matty," you whisper, kissing his cheek instead before walking away. He stays by the door, looking lost as you leave the room.

You only leave to get Matty a glass of water from the kitchen.

Meanwhile Matty crouches down in the dim light of the hallway, his knees creaking a little as he gets to Asher's level. He lets out a quiet laugh, rubbing his hand through the dog's fur, ruffling it in that familiar, affectionate way.

"I've missed you, mate," Matty murmurs, his voice low and thick with that familiar late-night rasp. He reaches out, giving Asher's ears a gentle scratch, earning a happy wag of the tail.

Asher barks, quick and sharp, his tail thumping the floor. Matty nods, as if understanding him completely. "Yeah, loads. It’s been too long."

Asher’s big brown eyes stay fixed on Matty, clearly overjoyed by the sudden attention. Matty leans in closer, his head resting slightly against the dog’s, almost like he’s confessing a secret. "You’re such a good boy, you know that?" he says softly. His hand keeps stroking Asher’s fur, slower now, more thoughtful.

"Would come over a lot more, but... your mum, she’s a bit mean on me." He shakes his head, still smiling. "Not that I blame her though. Not that I blame her."

Asher whines, nudging Matty's hand with his nose. Matty chuckles, his fingers brushing lightly against the dog's snout. "You don’t judge, though, do you? Nah, not you. Always happy to see me, no matter what state I’m in."

Matty pulls his shoes off knowing you hate shoes in your house especially in the living room where Matty collapses on the couch.

When you come back, you nudged his foot with yours. "Move," you smile, seeing him stretched out, taking up the whole couch. He sits up and you hand him the water before sitting next to him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

"I wish you wouldn't slick your hair back like that," you tease, tucking a loose strand behind his ear that had fallen over his face.

"If you don't like it, I'll stop," he says with a lopsided smile.

"Whatever," you smile back, shaking your head acting like he didn't just make your stomach flutter.

He sets the water down, looking over at you. "Are you really not in the mood?" he asks, his voice softer now.

"No, sorry, Matty," you say, giving him a fake smile.

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. l'm only here when... you know... he trails off, avoiding your eyes.

"Yeah," you sigh, understanding what he meant. It was always like this.

"S’ the only thing you'll do with me though, can you blame me?" he mumbles, the words slurring a bit, his face clouded with something sadder.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"Sex. It's the only thing you wanna do with me," he frowns, his eyes downcast, like he'd been holding that in for a while. “I’ve got no choice, have I? Either I stay away from you for good or we’ll shag.”

“What the fuck are you on about?!” You ask, eyebrows raised.

Matty places a hand on your leg, like he needs some excuse to touch you. "I just feel like you only want me when I'm drunk or high or some shit.”

"Why do you think that?" you ask, trying to make sense of where this is coming from.

"You never call or text me after we do anything. S’just -“ he muttered, looking down like it was some shameful secret.

You shift in your seat, stunned by his vulnerability. “That’s not true. You know it’s not like that.”

Matty shakes his head slowly, his hand still lingering on your leg, but there's a nervous energy in his touch now. “Feels like it though, doesn’t it? I mean, we don’t talk... not really. Not unless we’re in bed.”

"Yeah, because I think you only want me when you're drunk or high," you admit, feeling a knot form in your chest as you said it out loud.

"I don't!" he blurts, stumbling over his words. "I wanna-fuck, I'm sorry. I wanna see you all the time. I just thought you don’t actually want me." He looks at you, a bit more sober in his eyes now, like he'd been carrying that thought around for a while.

Matty’s grip tightens just a little on your leg, like he is afraid you’d pull away, like he is holding on to you for dear life. His thumb traces a slow circle over the fabric of your jeans, a small gesture, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

"I'm sorry I come off like that. I don't mean to," he says, staring into your eyes with those big, soft brown eyes of his.

You stay quiet for a moment to think about all the times where you had an amazing night together and you were all alone the next day.

“I hate it when you leave in the morning,” you whisper, feeling more vulnerable than you intend to.

“I know, love. I’m sorry, I wanna stay, I really fucking do.” He whispers, his face inching closer, his hand slowly trailing up your thigh, sending a shiver through you.

“Then stay.”

“For as long as I like?” He asks, his lips hovering near yours.

“How long’s that?” You chuckle.

“Forever? If you’ll have me.”

"I'll have you," you smile back, finally leaning in and pressing your lips to his, the kiss soft but full of all the words neither of you had been able to say.

His tongue slips into your mouth, and you can taste the whiskey on him. "I'm sorry you said you weren't in the mood, he murmurs, pulling away carefully, not wanting to push you.

You momentarily forgot you'd said that, realizing you'd kind of lied to yourself. You straddle his lap, feeling bold. "You have an effect, Matty..." you whisper, pushing off his leather jacket, leaving him in a dark T-shirt that complements him VERY well.

“Do I now?” His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing along the curve of your bottom lip. You wrap your hand around his wrist, and press a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

Matty’s other hand rests on the back of your neck, pulling your lips down to his. The kiss is messy and hungry, his tongue slipping past your lips and gliding against your own. You let out a whimper when he bites down on your bottom lip, and Matty’s hands tighten around you.

Matty’s erection is pressing against the inside of your thigh, and when you grind yourself against him, he grunts into your mouth.

"Like that, love, fuck,” Matty murmurs.

Your hips buck at his words, and you continue rolling yourself against his cock, trying to get the friction you crave. Matty’s hands roam your body, sliding down to grip your ass, then back up to palm at your tits.

He lifts your shirt over your head, and his lips found their way to the valley of your breasts.

“You’re such a good girl,” He says sweetly, “fucking gorgeous girl.”

You could cum like that. Rolling your hips and grinding on his cock until you explode. You follow his lead, lifting his shirt off of his head and watching the expanse of his large chest move as his breath grows ragged.

Matty is a hungry kisser, he bites, claws and sucks his way across your jaw and down your neck.

You run your hands down to his belt buckle, and start to undo it, and Matty’s fingers fumble with the button and zipper of your shorts.

He pulls your shorts off and throws them to the side, and when you go to undo his belt, he stops you.

"Wait, hold on,” Matty pants

"What, Matt-,”

“One touch of you right now and I’ll cum,” he admits, “don’t want to, let’s take care of you first.”

He smiles and stands up from the sofa, your legs wrapping around his waist. He almost loses his balance, making both of you laugh. "You're so pissed, you giggle, enjoying the moment.

"Shut up, you twat," he laughs, leaning in to kiss you again as he carries you toward your bedroom.

You’re both giggling when he gently lays you down on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head before crashing his lips onto yours.

He’s drunk. You think that over and over again, what if he’s using you again.

You visibly frown and Matty pulls back, “is something bothering you?”

“I-,” you sigh, “you’re drunk, what if-“

Matty knows what you’re going to say, he knows you’re doubting him. He quickly shuts you up by kissing you, soft, no rush, just a kiss as a promise.

“I’ll stay, love. I’ve always wanted to stay.”

Matty’s hand starts to pull at the waistband of your panties until they’re down at the middle of your thighs.

“Relax,” he says while moving his head lower, “do that for me.”

Matty lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room to be found later before dropping his head between your knees, littering small, slow kisses along the insides of your thighs. "Beautiful girl," he hums, inspecting your glistening sex with peaked interest.

Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Matty as he sets on top of your mound, pulling the skin taut before blowing cool air on you. You jump in response, looking down at where he's smirking from between your legs.

He hums absentmindedly, "Just making sure you're paying attention," he teases.

His movements are calculated as he exposes your clit to the air, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking a stripe before readjusting himself on the bed.

A constellation of feather-light kisses is left everywhere, your inner thighs, up toward your hip bone-everywhere except where you really need him.

Your clit aches with need as he continues to tease you, the pad of his thumb skimming ever so slightly over the sensitive bud, relieving only a fraction of the pressure that's building up. "Matty," you breathe.

"Hm?need something?" He asks, lifting his head up and looking at you curiously.

“You’re a mean drunk,” you whine.

Usually he can’t wait to get his hands or mouth on you.

“Don’t be a beg,” he laughs before moving his head lower again.

His hand ghosts over your folds, running a finger over your slit and chuckling when your hips buck up in response to the stimulation.

"fucking perfect," he murmurs, watching you intently.

You gasp as he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flat and wide as he drags it through your folds, groaning like he is savoring every drop.

His lips latch onto your clit, sucking hard, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your body. Your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping tightly as your legs tremble, and he groans again, the vibration making you whimper.

“Christ, love,” Matty mumbles against you, his voice muffled as he licks you with long, languid strokes. "This cunt is all mine, yeah?”

He sucks noisily, deliberately making sure every stroke of his tongue is loud, wet, and filthy. You can hear the lewd slurping sounds as he devours you, his mouth greedy and desperate as if he'd been starving for this moment.

His tongue plunges into you, fucking you with wet, deep strokes, his nose brushing against your swollen clit as he grunts against you. "Missed this so much, you can’t even imagine how much, always so drenched for me, soaking me.”

You can’t help but whimper, your hips bucking against his face as he groans, his tongue thrusting deeper, his lips and chin coated with your arousal. He pulls back for just a second, his breath heavy, his eyes wild as he looks up at you.

"Fuck, I could eat you all night," he murmurs, his voice almost a snarl as he grips your thighs tighter, pulling you even closer. "S’ my favorite taste, you know why? ‘Cause you’re my favorite girl.”

With that, he dives back in, his tongue swirling over your clit as he sucks you harder, his mouth relentless. You moan louder, your fingers tugging at his hair as your body arches off the wall, pleasure crashing through you with every filthy stroke of his tongue.

He groans again, louder this time, savoring every moment as he devours you, his mouth hot and hungry, like he can’t get enough.

He alternates between sucking your clit hard, his lips tight around the sensitive bud, and sliding his tongue deep inside you, fucking your pussy with slow, torturous strokes.

Each time you gasp, your body trembling as the pleasure builds higher and higher, his hands gripping your thighs so hard it feels like he is staking a claim.

"Yeah, that's it," he murmurs between licks, his voice raw. "Let me have it, darling.”

Your moans grew louder, filling the bathroom as Joel's tongue worked you harder, faster, his groans matching your own as he lost himself in the taste of you.

His hands slide up your body, gripping your breasts roughly as he continues to feast on you, the pleasure so intense it is overwhelming. You can’t stop yourself anymore-every nerve is on fire, your mind blank as you give in completely.

"Matty, fuck, I'm gonna-" you gasp, your thighs trembling as you teeter on the edge of release.

"Cum for me, love," he growls, his voice hoarse as his tongue flicks over your clit again, harder, faster, relentless. "Want to taste all ‘f it.”

With a final, devastating suck on your clit, you shatter.. Pleasure slamming into you, your entire body shaking as you scream his name, your nails digging into his scalp as he holds you in place, his mouth still working you through the waves of your orgasm.

Matty doesn’t stop, he keeps licking, keeps sucking, devouring every drop as your body convulses, the intensity of it making your legs shake.

He moans against you, his tongue softening slightly but still teasing your swollen clit as you come down, his grip on your hips loosening just enough to let you catch your breath.

When he stops he moves upwards again, a boyish grin on his face.

“S’ delightful,” he says, leaning down to convince you you do taste good.

While his tongue slips past your lips he ruts into you, the friction of his jeans adding another feel of pleasure.

You gasp into his mouth, “matty, need you.”

“Need you ‘s well,” his hand slips behind your back unclasping your bra.

His mouth waters at the side and he can’t help but immediately latch his tongue onto one nipple.

“Matty,” you whine, your hands traveling down between your body’s to find his jeans.

Matty pulls back, helping you get off his jeans and boxers, throwing them on the floor before he’s on you again.

He kisses you deeply, lovingly. You can still taste yourself on his lips, and the realization sends another jolt of pleasure through you. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

You can feel his hardness against your stomach, his need pressing into you. Matty breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. His breathing is ragged, his eyes dark with lust and something else - something deeper.

"Need you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "right now n’ so bad" he shifts his weight, positioning himself between your legs.

You nod, unable to form words. You need him just as fiercely, your body aching with emptiness and need.

Matty adjusts himself, pressing against you. The feeling of his tip brushing against your entrance sends another wave of pleasure through you. You lift your hips, your body silently begging him to fill you. Matty presses into you slowly.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your breath catching in your throat. Matty pauses, the alcohol in his body making you feel even more good.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and concerned.

You nod, biting your lip against the pleasure and pain intermingling within you. "I’m good," you whisper, your voice slightly shaky. "just, just fuck me matty."

Matty lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes darkening further at your words. He begins to move, his hips rolling against yours in a slow, deep rhythm. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper, needing all of him. Each thrust is like a spark, igniting a fire within you that spreads through your entire body.

Matty’s eyes are trained on your face, watching your every reaction, adjusting his pace and angle to drive you wild. His hands roam over your body, touching you everywhere, as if he can’t get enough of your skin.

You are lost in a sea of bliss, the pleasure building with each stroke. You can feel yourself getting close again, the pressure growing once more within you.

Matty’s breath is coming in ragged gasps, his movements becoming more urgent. He leans down, his lips seeking yours, kissing you hungrily. One of his hands slide down to your hip, gripping you tightly, as if he is anchoring himself to you.

Your eyes roll back. "more, please." you beg.

Matty groans, his hips pistoning against you harder and faster. He is close, you can tell. His body is taut, his fingers biting into your flesh. His lips tound your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving tiny marks behind.

"Fuckin’ hell, you feel so good.”

You can feel him getting close, his thrusts becoming erratic, less measured. "tell me... you're close." Matty whispers, his voice heavy with need.

You nod, your words coming out in broken gasps.

"So close." you manage to say, your nails digging into his back.

He shifts slightly, hitting a spot inside you that sends white hot stars exploding in your vision. "oh god, matty... right there."

"yeah?" he asks, his voice strangled and low. "right there?" he knows just how to drive you wild, how to push you to the edge and leave you hanging. His fingers tangle in your hair, his mouth seeking yours again. His lips are hungry, desperate for more.

You can feel yourself getting closer, the pressure building within you with each intense stroke. You are on the brink of something huge, and you know Matty could feel it too.

"Look at me." he demands, his voice rough and urgent. "Look at me when you come."

You force your eyes open, meeting his fervent gaze. It is more than you can handle, the intensity of his look, the feeling of his body against yours, is driving you crazy. You hold his stare, your whole body tensing, waiting for that final push that will send you over the edge.

"Come for me." he commands, his voice a hot whisper in your ear. "Come for me now." It was all it took. Your body obeys his words with almost no will of its own, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, drowning you in sensation.

You cry out, your body arching up against his, your eyes locked with his as you come completely undone. The waves of pleasure seem to go on and on, each ripple making you shiver and gasp. Matty’s hands are on your hips, holding you tightly as he watches you fall apart, his own body taut with need.

His eyes darken, his own need taking over. "I’m going to come," he warns, his voice hoarse and rough.

You nod, your eyes still dilated from the intensity of your climax. "do it," you tell him, your voice shaky.

"want it,” you moan.

He lets out a guttural moan at your words, his body shuddering as he comes, his release pouring into you, claiming you as his own. It is a feeling like no other, primal and intimate.

Matty collapses onto you, his body heavy and warm. You hold him close holding onto each other as the final ripples of pleasure ebbs and subsides. For a moment, there is only the sound of your uneven breathing, mingling together in the quiet of the room.

Matty eventually lifts himself up, his eyes seeking yours. He looks wrecked, hair disheveled, skin sheets with sweat. But in his eyes, there is tenderness, that only comes out in moments like this.

He reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice softer now, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

“Perfect,” you smile.

"M’ glad,” he kisses your cheek, “think I’ve gone sober now.”

You giggle and hit his shoulder playfully.

Matty smiles back, his eyes still glimmering with a mixture of satisfaction and affection. He carefully withdraws from you, moving to lie down beside you, pulling you against him.

You cuddle closer, resting your head on his chest. Beneath your ear, you can hear the steady beat of his heart, a soothing rhythm that lulls you in a peaceful, fuzzy headspace. His fingers play with tendrils of your hair, his touch light and caressing.

"I don't think i'll ever get tired of that." he says, his hand moving to your back, tracing lazy circles on your skin. "of you."

You smile against his chest, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "The feeling's mutual." you murmur. With Matty, everything is easy, comfortable. There’s something keeping you from being together fully though, you don’t know what it is.

He chuckles lowly, his chest rumbling beneath you. "Wasn’t to rough with you, was I?" he teases, his fingers tracing a path of fire down your spine.

You shiver at his touch, and then chuckle. "i can handle it, big guy." you reply, lifting your head to look up at him.

“Course you do,” he laughs.

You stay and the heat between your bodies, the sound of his heartbeat and his steady breathing all take part in getting you to fall asleep.

You think that this time is different, you’ll wake up with maybe you’ll even discuss why you’re always ending up together.

You want to. Because there is more from the both of you and you can’t deny it.

You smile before you open your eyes in the morning but you’re suddenly cold.

Your heart drops and you sigh already knowing what had happened.

You open your eyes to find out Matty has left. His clothes are gone, he didn’t leave a note and your phone is without messages.

Your heart drops and you feel as though your heart got broken by somebody who promised you only hours ago he will stay.

[giggle-guru]

Aaaand away goes the old audio!! This one sounds a little better. Thank you all for your patience with this one! Very satisfying to destroy this rabbit I’m not going to lie LOL. I’m going to have another audio out this week too!! It’s a surprise cause we love mysteries in this house.

Script is under the cut as always!

[Visual note: Imagine the exact scene that this is in LOL]

Gangle: [smiling] Before we get into all that, first things first, are you smiling?

Jax: [confused] Uhh…no?

Gangle: [serious] Why not?

[Visual Note: Chair has six arms that come out as it reclines. His ankles are secured and his arms are raised above his head.]

[Sound Effect: Mechanical arms whirring]

Jax: [surprised, slightly nervous] Ah....uh..wait, wait, nobody can see this right?

Gangle: [giggly] Of course not, silly! After all, the other employees have been doing a fantastic job at listening and being oh so polite to our customers! You should try it!

Jax: [sarcastic] Pfft…right, right, so can you uh…get this [BLEEP] chair to let me go?

Gangle: [more giggly] Hehehe, sure! If you smile.

Jax: [eye roll] I’m not going to smile for a bunch of people that aren’t even real. They’re literally NPCs-

Gangle: [chipper] Well, that’s just not the attitude that I can tolerate! Thankfully, Caine was generous enough to give me full control over the punishment and I know just what’s going to happen in this employee re-evaluation!

Jax: [grumbling] Oh, great, so what are you going to do? Give me another pep talk? Cause it’s not going to work.

Gangle: [slight irritation] Nope! Even better! I'm going to [serious] make you smile.

Jax: [fake laugh] Make me smile? [scoff] That’s the dumbest [BLEEP] idea I’ve ever heard. Good luck with that.

Gangle: [more irritated, but smiling] Wow! You are really pushing my buttons today! I wonder what would happen if I pushed yours?

Jax: [squirming slightly] What are you talking about?

Gangle: Why this of course!

[Visual Note: One of the hands begins to poke repeatedly at his side, causing Jax to flinch]

Jax: [suppressed laugh] H-Hey! What the-?! What gives!

Gangle: [mockingly] Why, I’m just helping you find that can-do attitude! I know it’s in there somewhere, we just need to do a little…digging!

Jax: [groaning, an involuntary smile making its way onto his face] You’re such a pain in the [BLEEP]!

Gangle: [annoyed] You’re the one being a pain. Now just smile, it’s part of your job!

Jax: [snapping] Fine! Fine, I’ll smile!

Gangle: [suspicious] Yeah? Already?

Jax: [grumbling through clenched teeth] Yeah, yeah. You want a smile? Here.

[Visual Note: Jax forces a strained, obviously fake smile.]

Gangle: [pauses, then tilts her head, unimpressed] Hmmm… That’s not a smile, Jax. That’s a grimace. A very... forced grimace.

Jax: [tight smile as he struggles to hold back, fuming] I am smiling! That counts, you [BLEEP]!

Gangle: [irritated] I knew that wasn’t a real smile. And besides, swearing in front of the customers is a biiiig no-no in this industry!

[Visual Note: Another hand begins poking at his other side. Jax squirms again, clearly struggling to keep his composure as the chair's mechanical arms continue their teasing ticklish assault, now trailing up and down his sides as another set begins tickling his underarms.]

Jax: [retorts, but a laugh slips] Oh, get over yourself, we can't even sw-HA! Stop that!

Gangle: [smiling wider] Hmm…I’ll stop when I think you have successfully finished your training. Now then, it looks like its about time to bring out the big guns!

Jax: [gritting teeth, trying to hold back a laugh] You’ve got to be kidding me. This is insane.

Gangle: [giggling uncontrollably] Oh, come on now, Jax! A real smile! It’s not that hard!

Jax: Bite me-

[Visual Note: With that comment, the hands begin scribbling at his stomach and sides, and dig into his underarms causing him to dissolve into a giggling fit]

Gangle: And would you look at that? You could be the headlining employee on a Spudsy poster with a smile like that!

Jax: [giggling] Okay! Okay, so I’m smiling! Stop!

Gangle: Oh, Jax, that was only step one! Step two is looking back and taking responsibility for your actions and learning to respect those around you.

Jax: [squirming and frantically giggling now] That is such [BLEEP]! You’re just making things up now!

[Visual Note: Another set of arms comes from the chair, moving to begin squeezing at his knees]

Jax: No! Nonono! Not there!

Gangle: Making things up? I’m just following the handbook. Now then, let’s review today’s behaviours…

Jax: [a squeal slips] No! Fine, fine, fine! What are you on about? Just get it over with!

Gangle: [disappointed] Well, for starters you can’t put your co-workers in the air fryer! It’s highly unprofessional. Talking about how much you hate customers in front of them…its bad for business. You even insulted your good ol’ manager-

[As Gangle speaks, Jax is laughing hysterically now as he thrashes in the chair, barely able to focus on Gangle’s voice]

Jax: [shriek] Okay! Okay, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! I was being an [BLEEP]!

Gangle: Sorry? Did I hear that right? Are you apologizing?

Jax: [giggling hysterically] [BLEEP]! Yes, I’m sorry! Just let me go! I’ll do anything!

Gangle: [content] That’s more like it. Looks like you completed the second step and acknowledged your behaviour…now onto the last one-

Jax: [gasping for air] There’s more?!

[Visual Note: A final set of hands quickly removes his shoes and begins spidering along his paws]

Jax: NO! No, no, no! I can’t! I can’t, you [BLEEP]!

Gangle: Yes! The final step! It’s simple really.

Jax: [laughing hysterically] What? What is it? Just tell me!

Gangle: As your manager, I need to ensure that you are being completely honest about your promises to become a team player. It recommends continuing this for the next hour or so-

Jax: [squeal] Hour?! Gangle- I can’t! I can’t! Just- just let me go back to work! Please! Please just let me work!

Gangle: [contemplative] Hmm…it would make more sense to have you back out there considering how few employees we have…

Jax: [laughing hysterically] Yes! Yes! I swear, I’ll- I’ll do everything! I’ll stop being an [BLEEP]! I’ll do whatever you want!

[Visual Note: The hands let Jax go as he collapses onto the chair, catching his breath and curling in on himself. Gangle watches from the TV with a smile.]

Gangle: Then it’s settled! Excellent job, you’ve completed your employee re-evaluation with flying colours! I’m glad you’ve finally seen what it means to be an upstanding Spudsy employee!

Jax: [panting] Yeah, that working here means you’re going to be tortured until you-

Gangle: [serious] What was that?

Jax: [flashing a smile] Nothing! Nothing. Just…glad to be here.

Gangle: [happily] Much better! Now then, it appears you missed your break, so you’ll just have to jump back in there! See you soon, Jax.

[TV screen shutting off]

Jax: [panting] Jesus, she’s something else.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

So there’s this kid I work with who screams and kicks people for 20+ minutes straight because they don’t want to do a single worksheet. I don’t blame the kid though; there are absolutely zero expectations at home and all they eat is sugar, which can’t be good for their mood. I’ve been trying to think of ways for all the kids there to engage in healthier behaviors; but I’m specifically focusing on the ones with dire conditions (such as refusing to drink water, not eating enough, or harming people (which will put them in danger as an adult)).

Today I put a letters puzzle on a different kid’s desk to keep them occupied and this kid just walked over and did it because they’re a perfectionist and need everything in its place. Maybe I can put the letters puzzle on their desk to lure them there and then replace it with worksheets once they’re finished (to ease the transition), and that way I don’t have to physically carry an 80 pound child to their desk multiple times a day, and said kid doesn’t have to endure me carrying them. Ohhhhhhhhh my god that might work

Now I need to find a way to get them to drink water and eat more nutritious food. I can try the chart thing but idk if it’ll work on this kid. I can’t use candy as an incentive because they don’t like candy…

hmmmmmm

[i-mean-y-not]

ACCEPTANCE

Connie’s mother doesn’t care for you. In fact, you heard that you were the worst thing that happened to her son.

You can’t cook she says.

You’re a little too thick she says.

You don’t dress appropriately she says.

You don’t give a damn is what you used to say. But as the years go on, the worse it gets. She’s a short thing. Maybe four foot five on a good day. But her words dig at you every chance they get. Her heritage makes her that way she claims to Constance—what she and no one else calls him.

You’re in love with a man that never stood up to his mother.

Never defended you. Wouldn’t raise his voice at her in the slightest. And definitely wouldn’t bring you around for the longest time.

Connie says his mom has always been like this. Disapproving of every woman he’s ever brought home, and you begin to realize that the pattern has nothing to do with the women and everything to do with her. The rest of his family is kind, welcoming, you feel as though you’re part of the family around them. But his mother is one of the most disingenuous people you’ve ever met in your life.

You try your best when you first meet her. Bring her flowers, a fruit basket, and even going out of your way to buy her a personalized recipe book.

Connie often bragged about his mom’s cooking and said that her dream before she had all eight of her kids was to open her own restaurant. You figured this would be the closest thing that she would get.

But when you showed up looking modest and bearing gifts, she scoffed at you. And in her heavily accented voice told Connie, something that sounded very much like an insult. He merely rubbed at the back of his neck and grimaced.

You love him. That’s why you stay. But love is beginning to unravel your insides.

You never want to go to his family’s house for events. And to be honest, you don’t want to be seen with him. So when he leaves you stay home, claiming that you have errands to run.

When he asks, “Hey fat butt, wanna run to the store with me?” The only answer you give is a quiet shake of your head.

He notices immediately.

And he doesn’t chalk it up to hormones, or emotions, or even insecurity. He simply thinks you’re mad at him. He pesters you about it, often. With three months that it’s been happening, he hasn’t figured out the reason for your distance.

So when Thanksgiving rolls around he asks again, you offer another half truth and decline.

This time, however, he doesn’t let you get away with it. He pauses with his shoe halfway on his foot and lifts and eyebrow and question.

“What do you mean?” he responded to the answer you just gave him. It was a simple, no, but somehow his mind can’t warp around that.

“ I mean no, Connie. I’m going home.”

He looks at his you again albeit briefly. “Right, so what time will you be ready?”

Your eyes shifted to the side in slight confusion and instead of thinking the question you ask it out loud. “ Ready for what?”

In a clearly exasperated tone he declares, “To go to my parent’s house.”

Now you sigh and take a brief moment to collect your emotions. You ride to your feet slowly and mumble, “I said I’m going home, Connie.”

He looks off to the side and shakes his head slowly as if you’re the dumb one. “Yeah, I know. And your home is wherever I am so, get up and get dressed.”

You blink several times in irritation and your face is full of irritation when you say, “Did you not hear me, Constance?”

He hates his full name.

You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because of the dead dad that he’s named after. Or the way it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. You know this, but you figure the only way to get him to listen is to piss him off.

That’s all you’ve been doing lately, both of you. He pisses you off by not listening, and you piss him off by not obeying. He takes a calming breath, and after putting on his simple, simple, gold chain, the crosses arms in indignation.

Connie is multifaceted. He could be extremely frustrating when he doesn’t get his way, but he can also be extremely accommodating if he does. But today. Today, it seems like the accommodation is going out of the window.

He pinches the bridge of his nose before uttering, “Fuck is your problem?”

The one thing you won’t tolerate is disrespect.

So you fold your lips, before you say something you shouldn’t. Then, you take a few steps towards the closet and nod.

“Okay, Connie.” He takes it as a win.

You can see it in the way his lip quirks up slightly. You grab a nude sweater, khaki pants and thigh high brown boots. Once you’re done with your simple make make up you turn your head back to him.

“Ready.” To him it looks like he’s won. But you it looks like you’ve lost.

The small smile still fades on his lips when you snatch your keys off of the hook by the front door. “What are you doing?”

He grabs at your hand in frustration. “I’m driving.”

“You’re pissing me off. You know that?”

You give a small wince when you utter, “Likewise.”

This conversation has been a long time coming. And you’re itching to scream out your injustice. He watches as you put your keys back on the hook where they belong and proceed to take the bathroom. Your makeup takes you all of ten minutes and once you’re dressed, you’re reaching for your keys once again.

He’s there in a flash. Grabbing your wrist, gently, but with enough pressure to let you know he’s there. It doesn’t scare you. He shuts his eyes for a brief moment in what you assume is frustration.

How funny is it now that the shoe is on the other foot. Before an argument ensues, you swipe some lip gloss on and smile gently. “I’m going home, Connie and that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I just love me too.”

That does something. Although you’ve never really voiced it, he knows. Your tolerance, acceptance even is a challenge. Showing up to dinners and gatherings you weren’t invited to made things much worse than they were. Through it all you grin and bear it. Not because you want to, but because you love him.

That love outweighs the pain of rejection. But that love doesn’t come close to healing already irreparable damage caused. He sits his keys down and then he turns to you with the most sincere look on his face. His caramel turtleneck compliments his eyes and the khaki chinos tie in with his mahogany loafers.

“Okay,” he says, and holds his arms out when he sits on the bed. “Come here.”

You hesitate, not because you’re scared but because you’re worried that this conversation is way beyond its expiration date.

He pats at the space that he’s intentionally left open for you between and his legs and you’re sinking into his embrace immediately. As soon as you’re in his arms he begins his declaration. “First of all, let me say this. Even if I could live a million lives, I’d want to live them with you every time. Being with you isn’t a choice, princesa. You understand? You affect my whole being, my very existence.”

Damn if he isn’t dramatic. With a small smile into his shoulder you begin to murmur. He can’t hear you.

You can barely hear you, but he grasps your chin and his hazel green eyes glows as he hums in question. “What’s that, mami?”

You look up and your lash line is already wet when you say, “I’m tired, Connie.”

His lips turn into a sad smile and he nods in agreement. “I know.”

Somehow he gets you to acquiesce and not before compromise. He takes you to your parents and you laugh and talk for about two hours before you’re saying your goodbyes. The car ride is silent to his mom’s house. You’re literally twiddling your thumbs in anxiety. Despite your feelings, you’ve decided that it doesn’t matter. You love him and although he’s selfish sometimes, and cries at beauty and the beast, he’s still yours.

And you are his. It’s in the way he holds your hand and drags his fingers over your knuckles. The way he cries when you do. But the reason you stay is simply the way he gets you. It takes a look to understand what you’re feeling and an errant sigh to put him on alert.

When you greet his mother—this time empty handed— she gives you that same depreciating look over. Once again your stomach unfurls in anxiety, but this time, Connie squeezes your hand lightly. He walks past her and gently gives a small nod in greeting.

You’re sure the entire family can sense the discord between you three. Connie, however acts as if this behavior is normal. Blatantly disregarding his mother when she asks a question it speaks to him in general.

When you sit at the Thanksgiving table to eat, you’re lost for a little bit. Albeit, being with Connie for two years has given you a glimpse into Dominican society, and let’s not forget the language.

It all comes to a climax when you ask Connie for a bottle of water at the dinner table.

Almost as soon as he disappears through the kitchen doorway, she mumbles, in plain English, “She has two legs.” Your eyes snap to her at the head of the table and with a little laugh you nod.

You don’t think it’s disrespectful to stand up for yourself. Quite the opposite, you believe. As you’ve gotten older, you’ve gotten much more comfortable with saying what you want.

“Mrs. Springer? Is there a problem?” Your tone isn’t abrasive or rude and you patiently wait for an answer, genuinely confused. What had you ever done to deserve the treatment you’ve received? Not a thing you can recall.

So you draw your shoulders back and look at her straight in her eyes. “Is it because Connie is your baby boy? Or the fact that you just don’t think I’m worthy? I’m trying my best to make your son happy, but I can’t- I won’t deal with this anymore.”

There’s an almost frightening hush over the dinner table and when the hairs rise on the back of your neck, you know that Connie probably heard every word that just came out of your mouth.You can’t bring yourself to apologize. And you won’t. Although you know he’s behind you, the words you push out of your mouth taste like bitter bile.

“I will leave your son,” you declare. Your voice breaks as you continue and a tear falls down your cheek. “I will. He is the love of my life; but I will.”

“Like hell you are,” Connie grumbles from directly behind you.

He grasps your hand in comfort as you continue. “I know that he loves you and he wants approval from you that he’ll never get. I’m not your punching bag, I won’t even get in the ring with you. So if you want a fight, I forfeit. You can have him all to yourself.”

The hand that Connie has grabbed feels a tight squeeze and that’s all it takes for you to close your mouth. He takes over from there.

With a nod at you he whispers, “Get your coat, mami.” Your mouth pops open in confusion, but he simply offers you a smile.

“Trust me.” And you do, irrationally so. Not because you love him, but because he’s never given you a reason not to. So you leave, because he asked you to. The walk to get your coat is the longest. In the modest five generation home that has one bathroom and three bedrooms, it takes you way longer to get your coat than it should. The underlying message was to stay with the coat.

But you can’t help but wait just beyond the entryway of the kitchen as Connie—for the first time you’ve seen it—corrects his mother. A mix or English and Spanish is spoken and being around him long enough, you pick up a word or two. His family from the left side of the table—which is what you can see— all sit with their mouth agape.

You understand when he begins to speak in English, code switching, I’m sure to drive home his point. “I love her and I’m going to marry her. If you want to be in my life anymore, this has to stop. I appreciate you and I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done, but I’m my own person and you don’t have to approve of the woman I love. You’re going to stop disrespecting her or these little gatherings? Don’t bother inviting me to them anymore. ¿Tú entiendes?”

The silence that rocks the entire house is stifling. This is what you wanted. Right? But somehow, the joy doesn’t compare to the hate you just realized you have for Connie. All this time, he hasn’t opened his mouth to defend you and now that he has…you think it might be too late. The realization hits you like a current at sea that sweeps you away before anyone can notice. It’s a scary thing to fall out of love so quietly you never see it coming.

Neither does he.

“Let’s end this, Constance.”

The words come out louder and softer than you intend. His newly trimmed head snaps towards your voice and his eyebrows wrinkle in puzzlement.

“End what?”

He says and by the look in his eyes, he already knows. So when you motion a hand between you and him limply, he lets out a small chuckle. “We’re not ending anything, __.”

Connie would never force you to do anything let alone beg you to stay, but the tears that form on his waterline makes you second guess that entirely. And for a moment, you completely forget his family is here.

That is until his mother emits a sound that sounds very close to a snort.

“Take me home, please.” you request, calmly.

With his eyebrows drawn so far down you’re afraid they’ll reach his nose, he breathes out, “You are home, princesa.”

His hand taps at the middle of his chest and the tears you’ve been holding onto for two years come spilling out. You don’t want to do this in front of his family. You don’t want to do this at all. But you want to be free again. Not to explore other options but to cherish the man you used to love.

You don’t say another word.

You don’t have to.

With your coat in hand and your phone in the other, you’re walking right back out of the door you entered.

He follows. Of course he does.

“Hey,” he whispers with a hand at your wrist. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a waterfall coming down your face when you reply, “I’m done, Connie.”

“With me?” Is his immediate reply.

You take a step back out of his reach and rub at your arm to comfort yourself. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Why?” His voice sounds garbled, like he can’t quite get the word out without fighting through emotions that physically pain him.

“She’s never gonna approve of me.” He shakes his head quietly. “Doesn’t matter.”

You want to believe him, but you can’t. The faith you once had in him has essentially vanished. Despair replaces it. “It does! That’s your mother and I’m tired of fighting a battle I’ll always lose. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

His sadness gives way to anger now. It’s spoken in the way he shoves his hands in his pockets and tongues at his cheek. “After two years?” 

You don’t know how to respond, honestly.

If you’re being completely transparent, you’re not sure you care. All this anguish that pours out of him is the same feeling that’s been pooling in your gut ever since you met his mother.

You don’t intend to be cold but you simply ask. “Can you take me home?”

You see the fight leave him.

His hands find their way out of his pockets and they shake when he grabs the keys to his car and unlocks it. He opens the passenger side door for you to get in silently and closes it gently once you’re in the seat safely. He gets into the drivers seat and looks over at you, face red and brimming with unchecked emotion.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You simply respond, “ I know.”

[princessbrunette]

bbf!rafe eeeeek!!! 💞 imagine if you ever invited a boy over while rafe and your brother are chilling!! Man would be angrier than your own family ! heck, he’d probably throw him out himself !!

╭────── · · 🐰 · · ──────╮

the two of them are lounging in the living room when he watches you pass by, a boy he’s never seen before being lead by your hand— the two of you headed upstairs. rafe does a double take, staring in disbelief as your brother totally ignores it — too focused on the game.

“you—you see that shit, man? your little sister is taking some low-life up to her bedroom, alone.” rafe leans over to him urgently, jutting a thumb over his shoulder in reference. your brother offers him no more than a glance, shrugging a shoulder as he brings his beer bottle to his mouth.

“so? she’s grown. can do what she wants, i don’t care.”

rafe’s eyes flutter in irritation as he licks his lips, shifting impatiently on the couch. “so? so she’s allowed to just have any guy round? she’s your little sister, man you’re meant to be protecting her. you think i just let sarah march in with whoever the fuck she wants? no, because— because i’m the man of the house. you gotta get that shit in check bro, or she’s not gonna respect you.” rafe manipulates. truthfully, he didn’t give a shit who sarah brought home as long as it wasn’t a guy he had beef with. that was simply an excuse to get your brother to see eye to eye with him.

it seems rafe’s rambling was starting to get on his nerves, distracting him from the game. he rolls his eyes, turning to him.

“shit, you care so much why don’t you go kick the guy out then?” he snaps and rafe sits back, thinking.

“yeah… yeah okay. i think i will.”

the door to your bedroom swings open a moment later, your head whipping round from where you sat on the bed. he leans on the doorframe, staring the guy down with his arms crossed over his chest.

“rafe!” you exclaim, horrified and he doesn’t even spare you a glance.

“out.” he orders to your company, the guy glancing between you and rafe.

“uh— wh…”

“am i speaking another language, bro? get out of her room before i come over there and drag you out myself. go.” he speaks slowly, aggressively, condescendingly like the dumbest man on earth was sat on your bed. the guy offers you an apologetic glance and scurries off.

rafe stares him down until he’s out of sight before casually swinging your door shut, shutting you in with him.

“rafe why the hell did you—”

“bet you thought that shit was real cute, huh?” he asks, beginning to pace as he scratches at his cheek, barking out a quiet malicious laugh. “yeah… yeah this had to be some… some ruse to make me, what? jealous?”

“he was my friend.” you avert your eyes, not even bothering to sound convincing anymore. he scoffs, shaking his head before blowing air out his mouth. slowly, his lips forming the ‘o’ shape as he does so audibly.

“friend, right. okay… you think i won’t beat the hell out of any guy that touches you? like — like i- i care who’s watching? nah, nah… maybe i should let your brother know what you’ve been lettin’ me do to you on the sly.”

“rafe.” you pout as he draws closer.

“what, you scared? the kid doesn’t give a shit who’s shovin’ his dick in you. made that crystal clear downstairs. so why should it matter if it’s me, huh?” he tugs at your jaw, dragging a thumb messily over your bottom lip. you let out a whine of disagreement and his eyes roll back before leaning down into your space. “you dont see me whorin’ myself out to randoms the same way you do, do you? why would i? my best friends little sister spreads her legs for me whenever i want it. would be a waste, right? i don’t wanna see you bringing home any more guests. is that understood?”

╰────── · · 🐰 · · ──────╯

[missmeinyourbones]

TWIN SIZED MATTRESS

a part two of where love lives because i am such a sucker for rei getting those kids the hell out of that house and the todoroki fam being normies 

You would almost be drifting off to sleep—if it wasn't for the dead weight of Shouto’s  limbs on your lap and the irritating buzzing of Touya’s whines in your ear. 

“He’s out cold.”

Touya gestures to the blob of red and white hair sprawled out by your side. After one episode of his cartoon and a few head scratches from your hand, Shouto was out like a light. 

It’s been about thirty minutes since then, and the low mumble of the cartoon still humming across the dim living room speaker is driving Touya up a wall. 

“If you’re not gonna let us go upstairs, at least let me change the fuckin’ channel,” he mumbles behind a scowl. 

You roll your eyes but gently toss him the remote regardless. He hums at his victory, catching it easily and flying through countless channels, eventually landing on some poorly produced scary movie from the early 2000s—and if it wasn't for his youngest brother wedged in between the two of you like a cushion, he’d be using the film as an excuse to cling onto you.

It's not long before the sound of a key in the lock softly rattles the front door, and a few seconds later, Rei enters quietly, almost like she's not trying to make a single sound. But when she sees two (and a half) silhouettes on the couch, she tosses her keys on the counter with a bit less caution.

“What a pleasant surprise this is,” her voice is teasing, but it’s all in good fun. She’s a soft woman, in her speech and touch—and the way Touya’s eyes glass over when they’re on her.

He barely lets his gaze stray from the film to flicker her way when he mumbles half-hearted a “hey, Ma.” You decide to be the adult in the situation and properly greet the woman of the house.

Slowly and carefully removing Shouto’s limp limbs from your lap, you manage to slide out from beneath his weight and stand up.

“Shouto didn’t feel well, so we gave him some medicine and let him lay with us for a bit,” you gesture to the sofa where he still snores while your boyfriend watches the movie and scoots away from the drool now pooling on the cushion beside him. 

“How sweet you two are,” she breathes, simultaneously thanking you while cheap-shotting Touya, knowing this had to be all your doing. 

Because it doesn’t take a genius to know that while he means well enough, there’s no way in hell it was Touya’s idea to cuddle up with his brother on a Friday night. 

“Are you staying the night?” she innocently asks, her gaze flickering to the stove clock and seeing it’s well past midnight. 

You make a mental note to kill Touya later for not telling his mother of your attendence. Politely, you decide to tread lightly, “If it's alright with you, please.” 

At the same time, Touya mumbles something from his spot on the couch about it being too dark out now for you to be driving anyways. 

“Of course,” she shrugs her jacket off, laying it on the back of a chair while getting herself a glass of water, “take Touya’s room, he’s fine on the couch.”

At that, your disinterested boyfriend is suddenly extremely intruiged with this conversation.

“No,” he nearly chokes on his own disbelief, “I’m not okay on the couch.”

“Don’t listen to him, take the bed,” Rei continues, completely ignoring her eldest son practically throwing a fit as he finally stands and scurries over to the two of you.

“We’re adults,” he heaves, though his whiny tone betrays his claim, “I think it’s safe to say we can sleep in the same bed, Ma.”

Rei deadpans as blunt as ever, looking her eldest dead in the eye without a shred of shame or subtly when she sighs.

“I’m too young to be a grandmother, Touya.”

You feel your skin grow hot, and you don’t miss the way Touya’s neck flushes also red as he curses under his breath. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” he rubs his eyes in irritation. “As if we’d ever try anything with all of you fuckin’ people here.”

You bite your tongue at the lie that webs through his teeth. As if that wasn't what you were doing in the first place when Shouto decided it was a convenient time to have a stomach ache.

With a silent wave of her hand, Rei seems to send Touya up to his room to both get it ready for you and grab whatever he needs for the couch. He does so wordlessly, but can’t help the dramatic sigh and heavy footsteps up the stairs along the way.

When Rei sees your nose crinkle at his theatrical antics, she shakes her head and reassures you.

“He’ll be fine.” 

She offers you a glass of water, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments.

It’s nice. For a house that's always breathing with hectic excitement, it’s refreshing to take in its small noises. The sound of the floorboards creaking beneath Touya’s footsteps above, the ice maker grinding and chiseling every few moments, the ceiling fan whirling against the metal of its own chain.

After a moment, Rei speaks up—and when you catch her eye, she’s admiring you with a different kind of softness you’ve yet to see on her. 

“We love having you here,” she delicately insists, before quietly adding, “all of us.”

Her comment warms you from the inside out. Like a fire in your chest, the genuity of her words spreads all throughout your veins and into each crevice of your body. It feels like home has eaten you alive. 

“I love being here,” you manage to whisper after a moment, “thanks for always having me.”

She returns easily, “Thank you for taking care of my baby.”

Your head turns to where the tiniest Todoroki quietly snores on the couch, “It’s no big deal, Shouto’s always great.”

“I wasn’t talking about Shouto,” Rei doesn't miss a beat, gently resting a loving hand on your shoulder.

Touya calls your name from upstairs, seemingly to let you know that his room is ready for you. You shoot Rei a smile that you hope does even a sliver of the happiness you're feeling justice before crawling upstairs.

Annoyance clear on his face, he points to his messily prepared bed with a mock kindness, “Your grace.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but accept the bed nonetheless. One you’ve been in more times than you can count, but never without him, Touya’s bed is comfortable in all of the right places. The comforter isn’t too heavy for the summer heat, and his sheets smell like the perfect balance of his cologne and lingering cigarette smoke. 

You half expect Touya to give you a proper goodnight, but you should’ve known better, because instead of coming over to kiss you, he sulks to the doorway before whispering, “The second she’s asleep, I’m coming up.”

You do your best to sound strict behind your inching smile. “No, you’re not.”

Touya merely shrugs before gently closing the door, his pillow in his hand and a flickering look in his eye.

He keeps his word because precisely eight minutes after you hear Rei gently creep upstairs and close her bedroom door, another one opens and Touya’s lanky frame scurries in.

“Get out,” you half-heartedly threaten through a sleepy rasp.

His movements don't hesitate in the slightest. He continues to close the door slowly, securing it and creeping to his bed on his lightest steps. 

“This is my room,” he humbly reminds you.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” you attempt to reason with the unreasonable.

“Please,” he scoffs, shimmying himself beneath the covers and onto his flattened pillow, “she knew this was gonna happen the moment she sentenced me to that fuckin’ couch.”

Touya moves to spoon you, placing his hand on your stomach before you tense up and turn around to face him directly.

“We are not having sex,” you harshly remind him in a whisper.

You can practically see his stupid smirk when he replies, “Didn’t realize I was dating a nympho.”

He hears you kiss your teeth in annoyance, but when you move away from his hands, he shushes your complaints and halts your movements with a tightening grip.

“Hey, stop,” he whines, letting you turn around but forcing his way to nuzzle into the back of your neck.

“Just wanna lay with you,” he whispers into your back before gently nipping the skin and adding a sweet, “you gremlin.”

You gently scoff at that and settle beneath his touch, and the world almost feels like it stops spinning as the two of you cram into a twin size mattress Touya’s had since he was about eleven years old.  

“Thanks,” his voice quietly cuts through the silence of his bedroom, barely louder than the cicadas that chirp outside as he continues, “for helping the little asshole tonight. Pretty sure he was faking it, though.”

He feels you laugh through a huff of your nose, “Doesn’t matter, I was happy to be here.”

 Touya softly gnashes his ankles against yours when interlocking your legs together. You feel a tiny kiss on your exposed shoulder when he groggily speaks above the sound of the air conditioner.

“Think we were all happy for that.”

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Three

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut 

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

____________________________________________

Author note: Okay Hoteliers, this was my first attempt at some spice. I'm open to constructive criticism! I am a published author but spice is something I am new to and not confident in. Any suggestions are welcome :)

<3 Stay smutty.

Chapter Three - Care for a Drink?

Content warning: mentions of blood, mentions of abuse

You were late. 

“Not me! I have to go home and study!" Sir Pentious’ voice echoed through the foyer as you stepped in, nearly missing the first few drops of acid rain. 

You were at the Clocktower when the clouds rolled in and threatened to melt your skin off. Unclipping your Mary Jane’s, you took off down the street, doing your best to avoid the trash piling outside the Doomsday District. Out of breath and, with mere seconds to spare, you finally rolled up to the Hotel only to find that Charlie had started without you. 

Well, you did say one and it was now twenty minutes past. 

“Come on kid, it'll make you cool like me …the crackhead." Angel did not sound amused. 

You rounded the corner to find Angel and Sir Pentious reading from scripts and dressed in… Costumes? 

"The only cool thing here is to say no to drugs! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to not have sexual intercourse before marriage!" Sir Pentious chimed. 

You snorted into your hand at the sight of Sir Pentious in his sailor-like child costume, complete with large lollipop in hand. 

“Hey, Hair clip,” Angel frowned, clearly irritated with his current situation. 

You couldn’t blame him. If these were the exercises Charlie had in mind, you don’t know how long you would last either. 

Then he eyed your feet and your dress. “What the fuck happened to you?” 

“Huh! You made it!” Charlie jumped to her feet and slammed into you with a hug so powerful it knocked you backwards. 

“Ouch!” You rolled back on your heels, pushing your blisters into the hardwood flooring. 

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry! What’s wrong! I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt you. Did I hurt you?” Her eyes begin to fill with tears, her pupils growing big. 

Before you had a chance to deny vehemently, Vaggie cut in. “I think it’s her feet, babe.” 

She took a step back, giving everyone a view of your blistered toes. Your feet were normal - human shaped, that is - and although you had the same ashen complexion as Charlie, your limbs blackened at the ends, beginning at your elbows and knees. The dark fur hid the grime now encasing your toes, but not the blisters rubbed raw and bleeding red.

“Yeah, that doesn’t look so good, toots,” Angel frowned. 

It had to be the heels. Rosie was right, you did need new shoes. 

“It’s not that bad,” you waved them off, heading for the stools at the bar. 

“Your wincing,” Charlie motioned to you. “She’s wincing.” 

“Oh no! You are in pain,” Sir Pentious cried. 

“Guys, seriously. I don’t… Ah!” Angel scooped you up into his arms, carrying you to the stairs. 

You tried to protest but he interrupted you. “I got a first aid kit in my room. It’s not a big deal.” His voice was stern, his jaw set. You took this not as a rescue for yourself but a rescue for him. He needed an excuse to get away. 

“Wait! Wait!” Nifty sprinted around, taking a photo of the two of you before heading back for the couch. 

“What the fuck was that?” You asked Angel.

“Charlie put Nifty in charge of the Hotel’s Sinstagram,” the spider demon rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at it. It’s a clusterfuck of a whole lot of nothin’. Mostly bugs and shit she’s found around the joint.”

“Great,” you mumbled, letting the spider demon whisk you away. 

____________________________________________

“I seriously don’t know how you walk in shoes like that every day!” You motioned to his ridiculously high heeled boots. 

“Practice, toots. You don’t get as good as me by lyin’ on your back… Wait.” 

You laughed as you pulled your other sock on, careful not to ruin the bandages Angel oh-so delicately wrapped around your feet. For a Porn Star he sure knew his first aide. You knew it was because of Val, of course, but he didn’t know that you knew… 

Never in your years of working have you ever thought about the victim. At least not with sympathy. You enjoyed the chaos, you enjoyed the killing, you enjoyed the fear. Now, something in your chest was twisting itself at the thought of Val placing his hands on Angel. 

Angel was such a soft and adorable person, you couldn't fathom Val hurting…

Stop! 

You flinched, covering up the action with a cough. You got to your feet, testing their durability. “You, uh, wanna head back down?” 

His smile faded. “Nah, I’m gonna lay low for a bit.” Turning to the pig, he collected him in his arms, side glancing the pink phone laying on the bed. “I’m sure Charlie is just dyin’ to dress you up next.” 

You paused. “Okay.” That thing in your chest twisted again, rooting you in place before the door.

You sighed. 

Fuck. 

“I have to change before I head to the bar, but I have some lemon sweets in my room that I know Fat Nuggets would love if you wanna join me.” You ran your hand down the pig’s snout, earning a squeal from the little ball of squish. 

You could tell he was debating it by the look on his face, but wasn’t convinced. 

“And chocolate,” you sang.

That caught his attention. 

“Alright,” you helped him off the bed. “But only a piece, Fat Nuggets is watching his figure.” 

You laughed as you headed for the room next to his humble abode, pulling the door wide and gesturing to the couch for him to take a seat. 

“Wow, nice place ya’ got here,” he let the pig loose to sniff about the room. 

It was. Your room was almost double the size of Angel’s and included a small sitting area. Wonder why he got the short end of the stick? 

Then you wondered who else might have seen your room… perhaps without you knowing? You set a mental reminder to place some runes later - keep Alastor and his shadow out. Not that you had anything alarming in here. All the important stuff was kept in your personal Void. 

You grabbed the leftovers from the club you got stuck with and moved them to the coffee table. Grabbing a lemon square, you let Fat Nuggets crawl onto your lap as you sat cross-legged on the ground. The small creature squirmed in your lap till you finally handed him the sweet. 

Angel helped himself to your pile of chocolates - you hated chocolate, but didn’t want them to go to waste. Thankfully, he left his phone in his room. 

“You know,” you started, unsure of where you were going with this. “I’m new here, but sometimes new people observe things others might not notice - a third party perspective if you will.” 

“A-ha,” he eyes you suspiciously. 

“Sometimes they notice things others may be trying to hide…” You were hoping he would get the point and pick up where you were leading him.

“What are you tryin’ to say, Hair clip?” He ignores the chocolates completely, turning to you with irritation sprawled across his face. 

“Ugh,” you huff. “I’m sorry I’m not good at this stuff - feelings and trying to comfort others.” You clear your throat, resisting the urge to rub the back of your neck. “It seems like something is wrong and I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it?” You avoided eye contact, this was uncomfortable enough. 

“I’m fine,” he shot you down, tossing a chocolate into the air and catching it in his mouth. 

“I know what it’s like to come from a place of… neglect.” You continue anyway. “To be trapped in a situation you cannot control. To be a victim with no power, forced to do things you didn’t wanna do…” Your voice cracked. When had you started tearing up? “And when you try to speak up, to refuse to do something that would harm others…”

“Hey, hey,” Angel was on his knees before you, cupping your cheeks, soothing you with shushes. He smiled when you finally looked up at him. 

“You’re gonna ruin all your beautiful makeup, Hair clip.” 

You giggled into his hands, your heart warming just a bit. 

God, what was it about this Hotel that made you so emotional? 

“Look,” Angel huffed. “My boss has just been gettin’ on my nerves lately. He doesn’t like that I moved out. He’s pissed actually. Been blowing up my phone for days, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle.” He rubbed your cheek with his thumb. “I’m managing, I just need some time to work through some things ‘tis all. Alright, toots?” 

You knew it wasn’t alright. You’ve heard some pretty infamous stories of the moth demon - yet another reason you have steered clear of the Vees - but Angel was at a point that if you kept prodding, he’d most likely just flip you off and disappear for the rest of the day. Pushing him would be a step back and you needed to take a step forward. 

“Okay,” you pouted, wiping your face with your sleeves. God this dress needed to be thrown away.

“Now let’s get changed because I need a drink!” He pulls you to your feet before heading for your clothes. Pulling open your closet door he was shocked to find it empty. Your drawers were no better. 

“Seriously?” He waved to the black abyss. 

“I’ve been low on cash lately… but I just got paid and new clothes are on the way.” 

He held up a pair of black slacks. “Please tell me they’re from this century?” 

You ripped the pants from his hands. “I happen to like my clothes, okay.”

“Okay, grandma,” he shrugs. “One of these days, you gotta let me take you shopping. Your closet is an insult to closets.” 

“Ha, ha very funny.” You grab a blouse and head for the bathroom. 

“Do you even own a pair of sweatpants?” He asks through the door. 

“I have silk pajama bottoms?” 

He pauses. “Okay, actually impressed by that, but I think I’ve made my point.” 

“Whatever,” you emerge from the bathroom, shoving the gray blouse into your pants, giving you that hourglass figure. 

Actually, now that you had Angel’s attention maybe he could help with some of your wardrobe problems. Starting with your feet. 

“Do you know where I can get a new set of heels?”

————————————————————————

“Hey, whiskers! Pour me something strong, daddy needs a drink!” Angel took the stool next to you. 

Husk huffed, rolling his eyes, the bar cat grabbed a random bottle and just started pouring. “Feeling better?” He asked you.

You nodded, twirling in circles on the barstool. You dangled your toes as you spun, smiling at the fact that your feet didn’t touch the ground. 

That was probably the one thing you got from Dad you didn’t mind - your height. You and your brothers were short as fuck, but mightier than you looked: fierce beings in tiny packages. Yet, despite the roughhousing between siblings, you were always obedient - Dad wouldn’t have it any other way. 

As for Mom? Well, you didn’t have one. You and your siblings never did. You didn’t know the story but then again you never asked. It didn’t seem like something you asked your father. He wasn’t the type to… share certain things with you. He wasn’t closed off, he just didn’t treat you like kids. Dad treated you like soldiers. He commanded and you obeyed. 

And at one point in time you were okay with it. Dad said jump, you said how high? Now… After everything that happened on Earth, you promised yourself you’d never let anyone tell you what to do again. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon behind that bar of yours would you? It’s my favorite.” You beamed. 

“Wine?” Angel scoffs. “Come on toots, I thought you were a lot harder than that.” The spider demon downed half his drink before Husk had even finished pouring it. 

“Watch it!” Husk snaps. 

“I’m not a hard liquor kinda gal,” you shrugged, watching Husk wipe up the spilled alcohol. “I like to sip and enjoy.”

“Fuck that,” Angel scoffed, examining the new stain on his shirt. “Damn, this is my favorite top.” He grumbled, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back. I gotta spray it before it sets.” The spider demon made his way back upstairs. 

Husk waited till Angel was gone before he made your drink next. A glass of red wine in a metal red wine glass - how on the nose. Maybe your lipstick smear won't look as gross.

“I thought I’d give you a heads up, the Princess and her girlfriend went out shopping this morning and got ya’ a little something. Syrups and flavoring for the coffee machine. She’s gonna surprise you at breakfast. Just thought I’d let ya know. You don’t seem the kind who enjoys surprises,” he finishes pouring your glass. 

You sniffed before you tasted, letting the smell of currants and oak swim in your nostrils. It was smokier than you expected, but the tannins made your taste buds sing. 

God, you missed the wine from before Hell, before your entire world flipped on end… 

“Thanks, Husk.” 

He leans back against the counter behind the bar, a look of hesitancy on his face that said he wasn’t done talking yet. You sensed giving you a heads up about breakfast tomorrow wasn’t the reason why he asked to speak with you. 

“What?” You asked, after his silent gaze became uncomfortable. 

“Look. No one gives a shit what you did before you got down here. You’re down here, same as the rest of us, but you gotta watch what you say in… mixed company.” 

“What does that mean?” You scrunched your nose in confusion. 

“This mornin’, at breakfast.” 

He was referring to your small nugget of honesty at the table - your slip of suggested murderer status topside. He was referring to Alastor. 

Rosie told you the stories - things only she knew about the Radio Demon. He was a serial killer turned cannibal during his days amongst the living - wasn’t caught either. He died in some sort of hunting accident - explains the deer form. After his death, he rose to power faster than anyone had ever seen, took down some big important Overlords too, projecting their screams over his radio broadcasts. 

God, what a sight that would have been.

He showed up out the blue a few weeks ago after disappearing for seven years. Uprooted Husk and Nifty and planted them at the Hotel - he owned their souls, they had to obey. 

He had business with the Princess, but no one knew what - mere rumors, but nothing good. Whatever it was, you needed to find out. 

If his plans got in the way of yours, you were going to need to do something. You didn’t know what it was you were going to do, but eliminating him wasn’t going to be simple. 

“So?” You took a longer sip, needing the alcohol for yet another emotional conversation. 

“You’re not stupid kid.” He crosses his arms over his chest, ignoring the glass of whiskey before him. That’s how you knew he was serious. 

“Look,” you took the stem of the metal cup between your first two fingers and twirled it about. The glass danced on the edge of its base, twirling like a ballerina on a stage. Husk watched the movement, eyeing the liquid as it spun. “This place is about redemption, correct? So, shouldn’t I be a little honest about my sins, that way I can atone for what I’ve done?” 

His eyes were glued to the glass as he responded, “There’s a difference between honesty and painting a target on your back.” 

“You mean painting a target on my back in front of him,” you corrected. 

He finally met your eyeline, “He’s dangerous, kid…”

You hold up a hand, interrupting him, “You can save your lecture, Husk. I already got it from Rosie this morning.”

His eyes grow a few sizes. “Rosie? The Overlord?” 

“No, Rosie the tailor. It seems the Radio Demon and I have similar tastes in fashion.” Another sip - no, a gulp. The glass was practically empty already. You continued your twirl. 

So much for slowly enjoying it…

Husk drained his glass, “I’m not gonna bullshit you, kid.” He pours himself another. “He asked me to keep an eye on you.”

You freeze, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. “What?” You bite. 

“I suspect it’s not because he’s concerned for your well-being, either.” The cat demon adds. 

So, Alastor the Overlord had his suspicions - going not only to Rosie but Husk as well. It appears poking and prodding during his battle with Sir Pentious was enough to raise his alarms. You were going to have to be very careful from here on out. Alastor was a ticking time bomb without a timer and you were going to have to do something to prevent him from exploding. 

Perhaps you should do something to throw him off. Make yourself appear weaker than he expects. Get into a fight which you lose on purpose to a demon far weaker than yourself. Would that be enough or would he know Husk had warned you? Would he expect you to do something to completely negate his suspicions only to make him look at you even more closely? 

Fuck - you didn’t know what to do. 

“So, he didn’t say why,” you finished the glass, gritting your teeth in frustration. 

Husk laughs. “He doesn’t explain anything to me and he ain’t about to start.” 

Great, so Rosie was going to be your only insight into the red demon. 

Unless… 

Unless, you befriended him yourself. Now that would really throw him for a loop.

“Hey, where did you learn to do that with the glass…?” Husk begins to ask but is interrupted. 

“Get your aggressively average body OFF OF ME!” Sir Pentious’ scream echoes throughout the foyer. 

You and Husk fly to the library to find Angel wrestling the snake demon to the ground. Charlie and Vaggie followed soon after. 

“What’s going on?” Charlie asks, concern flitting between the two demons. 

“This little bitch is a traitor!” Angel moves aside a pile of books to reveal a video camera.

Vox.

Sir Pentious flies into a panic, summoning the media demon on his watch, demanding evacuation.

Pathetic honestly. You’re not sure you would have responded any better to the snake demon than Vox had. Not that you wanted to agree on anything with the leader of the Vees, you detested the sore excuse for an Overlord and wanted nothing to do with him.

Yes, you fixed his bowtie earlier today, but he looked so… pathetic standing in that alleyway. It actually kind of irritated you now that you think of it. A demon of that caliber throwing tantrums in a random back alley? Come on man, get yourself together.  

Vaggie pulls out her spear, prepared to skewer the snake, before Charlie interrupts. “It starts with sorry…”

Ah, fucking kill me. Little Ms. Bleeding Heart everyone. 

As you watched the events unfold, you felt static zip down your spine. Almost as if you were being watched. 

You spun and searched the shadows but there was no one there. Wait, no one you could see. Rosie told you of Alastor’s shadow, how it could hide him in darkness, how it could detach from his form and do his bidding elsewhere. You were going to have to take that into account when sneaking out at night - double check every shadow and second guess every dark corner. 

“Good first day! Let’s get some rest.” Charlie guided him back to his room. 

You waited until the hallways were empty before taking a step towards the abandoned watch. 

“Would you like to do the honors or shall I?” You ask the darkness. 

There’s a pop of static before the Overlord melts from the floor, scooping up the electronic device. He crushes it beneath his fingers in a burst of electricity. You watch as Vox’s image blurs before dying. 

Alastor drops the plastic and metal to the floor before addressing you. “You knew I was there,” he purrs, his radio a silent static, his back to you. 

“Saw the shadows move,” you answer coolly. Technically a lie, but you weren’t about to tell him that you could feel his presence before he entered a room, that you could feel his shadow follow you. 

Alastor spun, his eyes narrowing on your form, kicking the butterflies in your stomach into a flurry. God, his eyes. They glowed red, like crystals in a fire. A fire that ignited something foreign within you.

The double doors behind you slammed shut causing you to jump.

And then they locked. 

You were alone, alone, and trapped with the Radio Demon and one of Hell’s finest Overlords. 

He takes a step towards you, his microphone slipping into the Void as his eyes, half-lidded, slowly slide over your form. The gesture, so simple, had you frozen in place where you stood. His pupils constricted, his smile curling, you watched as Alastor transformed into the predator he was born to be. Like a prey before its kill, he honed in on you, identifying you as prey.

You pull your hands behind your back, threading your fingers so he doesn’t see them shake so he can’t see just how much power his gaze alone had over you.

He takes another step, still ten feet away yet so, so close. 

You take an imperceptibly small step back.

Why are you so nervous right now? It’s just the Radio Demon. This man is not a threat. He’s just a Human Sinner. 

He takes another. 

Shit. 

His smile deepens, sensing the hesitation, the worry, the anxiety building in your chest. 

Was it getting harder to breathe in here? 

You force your lips into a thin line, force your body to stand ramrod straight. You will not back down. Overlord or not, you will not let him win this game of intimidation. You were a fucking god down here in Hell. The Radio Demon didn’t know it, couldn’t know it, your entire plan rode on him never knowing it, so why was every instinct in your body screaming at you to not back down? To not play the powerless victim you were supposed to be?

Alastor thought you a mouse and he a cat, but he was oh-so wrong. You were a fucking lion. You were an…

In one breath the Radio Demon closes the distance, stopping a foot away from you, your toes barely brushing his shoes. The demon was close enough that you could smell the rye on his breath; the liquor washed over you and made your toes curl. Of course, he drank something so sophisticated. Not vodka; not rum; but a dark liquor that burned on the way down. Like the fire in your veins.

He wasn’t drunk, perhaps just a nightcap? He didn’t seem like the type who ever got drunk. Getting drunk would leave one vulnerable and would leave one weak. Alastor would never allow that. He cared too much for his appearance. 

You go very very still as he reaches a hand out to you, his eyes suddenly captivated with your cheek. The tip of his claw tickles your skin, drawing a gasp from your lips, sucking the breath from your lungs and kicking your heart into a beat so loud you couldn’t hear anything else but its pounding in your ears. 

Crimson fire ignites behind Alastor’s eyes, his smile curling at the tips as his hand dances to a stray strand of hair. Shivers explode down your spine as he tucks it behind your ear, pausing to appreciate your neck. His eyes hone in on your jugular, almost as if he could see the blood rushing through your veins, almost as if he could taste it.  

The demon licks his lips drawing your eyes to his perfectly shaped mouth, to the sharp teeth behind it. What would it feel like to have those razor-sharp canines sink into your flesh? To allow Alastor a taste of the blood pumping through your veins?

A moment of clarity suddenly hit you at the sudden realization of just how much control you had lost. To allow Alastor to taste you? What were you doing? 

Swat his hand away. Bite his head off. Stab him in the gut. Eviscerate him where he stands. Kill...

The demon pulls you away from your thoughts as his finger moves south to your collarbone, eliciting a blush across your cheeks and igniting a warmth in your belly that traveled down, pooling between your legs. 

There it was again, that scent wafting through the room. The same scent you smelled off of Vox in the alley. You had never smelled something so sweet from a demon before - like warm vanilla heating on a stove. Yet now, it was coming from you.  

Something at the periphery of your power shifts. Like a second presence has joined yours, you try to think but your mind grows numb as Alastor’s dances across your collarbone. Delicately, so as not to draw blood, he follows it to the dip at the base of your neck. You swallow dryly and watch as Alastor’s eyes follow your throat’s bob. 

The demon pauses, a question swimming behind his eyes before he slowly - oh-so painfully slowly - wraps his hand around your throat. 

God-be-damned, you have never had another creature’s hand at your throat, and God-be-damned if you didn’t enjoy it. 

The demon squeezed, not enough to cut off your air supply, but just enough to send your mind spinning. A small moan escapes your lips. Alastor’s eyes shot to yours, a look of surprise filled them before they darkened. His smile shifted into that of a lopsided grin, a smirk of satisfaction. 

And then you feel it. 

You shove Alastor away from you, your mind sobering at the realization of what the Radio Demon was trying to do. 

You both pause for a moment, trying to catch your breath, before the demon takes a bow. “Goodnight, Ms. Thestral.” The shadows swallow him whole. 

You wait until you can't feel his presence anymore before you bang your head against the wall and scream. “Fuck!” 

It was all a big FUCKING distraction! He was prodding you to read your soul - to read your power. Just like you had tried to do that day he battled Sir Pentious. And you had caught him. He didn’t get far, but your reaction confirmed everything for him. 

He knew you had power. 

He knew you were a threat. 

And he knew you wouldn’t back down easily. 

You were fucked.

Link to Chapter Four

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (4/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

“What elementary?” That stare again. The one he unintentionally uses whenever he wants something, demands something. It’s heavy and uncomfortable, makes you want to beg him to not be upset at you, makes you want to apologise for your wrongdoings.

If you even had any, that is.

“Geh!” A hand slaps over those intimidating blue, palm all too eager to hide away those glimmering orbs as the sound snaps you out of your faraway thoughts.

That must hurt.

“Anyone ever taught ya how to not be demanding?” Suguru’s upset, his cheeks puffed up in anger and frowning at the friend that was sitting cross-legged upon the tatami mats and complaining about how much it hurt.

“It’s just a question!” And that was enough to turn the once intimidating gaze into one of narrowed sulk, drooping shoulders and falling backwards, making a point to let his body flop to the ground. “Hmph!”

Pouting. Gojo Satoru is pouting once more as your fluffy socks pad over to crouch near his head, fluffing up his fluffier white hair and patting at his soft cheeks to test the waters.

He lets you.

“I think Satoru’s mad.” It’s not so much so as a thought, but a way to signal to Suguru that there was going to be an onslaught of whining if something wasn’t done soon.

“Hmph!”

“Y’er not very cute now, Satoru.” Geto Suguru, at the age of 5, had learned just how much the rich kid has been spoiled; by both you and the people around him.

“Satoru is cute.” It’s what you say to him as you pushed your new found friend on the swing-set, with the creak of metal and the kick-up of snow by his boots. “And he’s really honest.”

“So I like hanging around him.”

He goes silent, thinking about it a little bit as he uses his feet as leverage to gain more momentum upon the fancy playground equipment.

You’re not very strong, but he won’t tell you that.

“Am I cute?” It’s a question that has got him parroting his own version back at you, a wonder that prompts him to prod at your mind.

“No,” He can feel your palms lightly pressing against his shoulders, fingers grazing against the soft fabric of his sweater as your voice is muffled by the scarf he had given to you on this cold day when you had sneezed one too many times.

“You’re pretty, Suguru.”

And that has the little boy thinking about what to say next. He’s never heard any of the kids at his old neighbourhood say that before, yet he knows you’re not the type to lie. Is there a purpose to your words? A lying undertone that he couldn’t see through?

He doesn’t know how to reply, so he settles on a truth that at the very least, is true to him.

“You’re prettier.”

“Hmph!” Yet again, Suguru has been snubbed despite his attempt to liven up his pouting friend. Insulting his adorableness won't work either, it seems.

You poke at his cheek as he continues to glower and gloom, his petulant expression never faltering even as you squish the chub of his face.

He’s very soft.

“Suguru said he was sorry.” He didn’t exactly say it outright, but you offer it as a way to dissuade Satoru from his irritation anyway, still nudging at his cheek as snowy eyelashes flutter open momentarily, before snapping close upon meeting your sad frown.

“Hmph!”

A losing battle.

“I’m… Sorry too?” It’s all you can hope that it works. If an apology from you is even something he wants, anyway.

“Whaddya even apologizing for, dummy?” It’s a mumbled grunt, barely missed if it wasn’t for your odd patience when it came to listening to him.

Why? Because he’s mad and he’s in your house. So technically you played a part in this, in managing to make your cherished friend lay on the lightly tattered tatami mats of your bedroom floor and pouting like nobody’s business. That’s why.

“Let’s feed him.” Suguru offers, squatting down on the boy’s other side and mimicking your action of prodding at his cheek, all whilst staring down at the boy who had lost his will to play. “He’s weak to stuffing his face.”

That’s too good of an idea to pass up on.

“I want biscuits and the cake Kimi-chan brought!”

Now you’ve realized the ulterior motive behind your ‘cute’ Satoru’s tantrum. How sneaky of him.

(Honestly? You would’ve done the same if you were hungry. Probably.)

So when your head peers into the fridge, tiptoeing upon your little stool to really survey the field of cool air and white chill, you have to face the biggest conundrum you have met in your so far, 5 years of living.

“We’re out of snacks.”

“What?!” A startled pop-up of spiky white smacks into flowing black as his eyes narrow and his lips curl into a pout. “Already?!”

“Mhm.” You take one last look just in case. “I think we ate everything Mama made—“ Your eyes fall onto the plastic cake knife that still sat on one of the fridge shelves, abandoned in favour of spoons. “And finished all the cake.”

Evidenced by the crumbs on your floor and the 3 spoons stained with leftover frosting lying on the ground.

“No wayyyy! We have to watch Digimon with no snacks…!” A true conundrum as he holds his head and falls to the ground without the grace he was taught to embrace.

“I like Pokemon better.”

“Me too.”

Gojo Satoru chooses to pretend not to hear it. Nobody would ever be able to convince him to pick that over his beloved Digimon.

(He swears nobody can.)

“And we ate everything at Suguru’s house yesterday…!” A sound of defeat as he curls his knees up towards his chest, bottom lip stuck out and shimmery eyes staring at the ground in disappointment.

Truly the biggest challenge you 3 have had to face together. The second being what to watch on television during the weekends when practically everything you ever wanted to watch played back to back.

(Personally, the astrology channel that plays every morning at 9 is a particular favourite of yours.)

“It’s fine, isn’t it?” Suguru’s licking his fingers clean of the remnant cream, his brows furrowing at the now lukewarm sweetness. “We can just go to your house for more.”

Satoru’s… House? Come to think of it, even you have never been there. Mama doesn’t allow that. She says that you’re too young, that you can when you’re a bit older, when you know Satoru a little bit better.

(But you know him plenty now, right? Even made a new friend along the way since you last time you asked her.)

“My house?” A proud click of his tongue and a smirk on his face as his head finally perks up for the first time from his whining, hair spiking up with his now much more hopeful behaviour. “Then ya gotta pay a toll of 50 strawberry cakes.”

“My mama would call you a scammer.” Suguru’s deadpan reply.

50… If Mama can make only 2 cakes a day… And if you helped her, would you even be able to meet Satoru’s demand? Is it even humanly possible? You think you heard the pretty lady on television talk about this expert baker who— You can feel someone waving their hand in front of your face to try to steer your mind back into the real world.

“But Satoru, aren’t you on a sweets ban?” It’s a sudden realization as you phase back into reality, nodding at Suguru now that he managed to successfully get you back. There’s a vague memory of him grumbling about it the very first time you met, the sway of blue firefly sleeves and the glow of his enchanting eyes.

“You’ve been letting him eat sweets when he’s not allowed to?” Suguru looks largely disapproving, a cocked brow and tilted head, as he watches the way your eyes are still glazed over and faraway from this conversation.

“I-It’s only temporary!” It’s a spluttered way of defending himself as his fists lightly punch at Suguru’s shoulder. “The old hag said I could have more af-after I—“

“But if you have guests over, wouldn’t they allow snacks?” It’s another offhand thought you had, not truly tuning into the chatter of your friends as a thoughtful finger is placed on your lip, and you’re settling yourself down on the floor with them.

Silence.

You have to blink at them. Did you say something wrong? Mama always stocked snacks in case of a guest, and partially for yourself; so it just came naturally to you. Was it not a good idea after all…?

——

So the first time you’re at Satoru’s house, you spend a good amount of time wondering why he needed such a big, scary looking metal gate as the unfamiliar man who drove the both of you here talks to the tiny speakerphone.

(It actually wasn’t that hard for Geto-mama to help convince your Mama to let you come. Cause it’s safer when Suguru is around too, right? You think that’s why you were allowed.)

“How many toilets do you think he has?” A genuine question as you gape at the sheer length of the seemingly never-ending fences. With a minka house that size, there’s bound to be more needed… But what do you need so many bathrooms for, anyway?

“Pfft,” A snort beside you and a squeeze of your hand. “Bet he uses one for showering, one for taking a dump and one for wiping.”

Suguru might be right, actually. What else would having that many bathrooms do?

“(name)-sama, Suguru-sama,” The intercom flashes with the image of an unfamiliar man as the metal gates start to open, automatic and creaking and honestly quite daunting as they part to reveal a well-dressed man in shiny shoes. “The Gojo estate welcomes you.”

He’s tall. Very tall. Almost as if he spanned at least a hundred feet up as he takes a bow, his head kept down and his face neutral.

“Young Master Gojo has been expecting the both of you.”

Takahashi-san; that was his name. The dignified Takahashi-san who didn’t smile, who didn’t allow his facial features to twitch even an inch out of place. Stone-faced Takahashi-san who was tall and moved with such quiet, purposeful steps, yet adjusted the stretch of his legs to allow you both to keep up with him as he lead you both around the engawa.

He reminds you of a really tall, really kind rock. If rocks could be kind, anyway.

“He looks fancy.” It’s your quiet whisper to no one in particular as you squeeze Suguru’s palm. It’s a wonder, honestly. Takahashi-san looks really out of place with the black and white suit, compared the varying browns and whites of the infrastructure and the greens of the estate’s seemingly endless garden.

And you think that it’s kind of intimidating.

“Do you think Satoru would wear that too?” Suguru humours you, a chuckle and swinging your intertwined hands together as he ensures his fingers are looped through yours.

You giggle, at ease now that you realize you’re not alone. Mama was right. “Maybe he has one of those gigantic closets like in—“

“We have arrived at the Young Master’s room.” A gloved hand fancily motions towards the fancier wooden lattice doors— Satoru had a really nice house. “Please do not hesitate to call for me if anything is needed.”

Even the wooden floorboards of the veranda don’t creak at all when you walk on them, the traditional tatami of Satoru’s room replaced with a soft Digimon carpet— It honestly blows your mind at just how clean his home was, completely juxtaposing how sloppy your usual Satoru could be.

“Surprise attack!” And you see a flash of blue and white before you’re both tackled to the ground, just barely missing landing front-first on those shiny wooden floorboards you admire so much as you resign to fate on the extreme softness of the carpet you did end up on.

Amazing.

“You’re finally here!” He’s settling his weight on the both of you, holding you both down so that he can reign supreme from above, a catlike mischief on his face when he realises his plan was a success.

“Let’s play! Let’s play!” Because he claims that treats taste better when you’re tired. “Oh, my house is wayyyyy bigger, so let’s do hide and seek!”

“That’s—“ You have to swallow a grunt of pain from the feel of his knee digging into your side as you whimper. “Great…”

“Get off, you heavy snowman!”

——

You don’t know this lady either. Which, honestly? Figures. You don’t exactly live here.

Yet, you can’t stop staring up at ‘her’ at all.

“You’re not meant to be here—“ Her words start off snappy, quick. As if it were reprimanding tone that commanded dominance; before devolving into a tone of confusion and softer frustration.

“Child…?”

She clears her throat upon realization, the ornaments in her hair twinkling a jingle that makes you want to stare agape for a really long, undetermined amount of time.

“State your purpose.”

If it wasn’t for the almost scary tone she donned.

“Satoru’s trying to hunt me down.” You say it like it was the most obvious thing ever in response, almost as if you were reporting back from a mission. “So I’m tryna find a good hiding spot.”

You can’t see her face clearly, or see her at all with how the shoji doors hid her from your view. But her room was brightly lit, casting her standing silhouette onto the fabric screens of the sliding entrance—

It should be impossible for a shadow to look so elegant.

“You must be his…” She lets herself trail off, as if the word was never on the tip of her tongue, far too unfamiliar and foreign on her lips. “Friend.”

She clears her throat once more as the shadow produces a fan from her draping kimono sleeve, its beat is steady and practiced; soft and slow.

“Tell me, child,” You can see the sway of her clothes, her silhouette moving with poised grace and practiced elegance that made you await with bated breath for her every move.

It’s mesmerizing to just watch her.

You remember to breathe when you hear her falter, picking up on the shaky inhale in and the slight stutter of the paper fan that failed to match her once rhythmic pace.

“How is… Satoru doing?”

You blink once, twice. Can see the dance of her sleeves as the fan waves and the jingle of the beads upon the ornate kanzashi tune into your ears. That’s a confusing question for you.

A weird one, even.

She lives here, doesn’t she? Why doesn’t she just ask him herself? Plus, you’re not Satoru. You can’t answer for your friend that wasn’t here.

“I think you have to ask him that yourself.”

The fanning stops abruptly, and your head perks up at what you think is a muffled choke, watching as you see her silhouette started to tremble, before a quiet laugh bursts out. It’s elegant, refined— Yet so uncontrolled and lacking in all the properness she once held.

Yet it didn’t detriment her overwhelming aura at all.

“Hahaha! I should, shouldn’t I?” The fan snaps closed, angry, frustrated— Yet soft and repentant. It had regret, had shame. It sounded like a lot of things that you didn’t know how to put into words.

But you know that her voice was tender, almost pitiful in their tone. And it makes you feel wronged for some reason.

“I hope you’ll continue to treat him well.”

(What does that even mean? Of course you do. He’s your bestest beloved-est friend.)

“Okay.” You think the conversation is over, think you should leave when you notice she’s gone quiet, can see the silhouette of her shoulders slumping with a palm pressed to her forehead.

You can’t seem to smell anything other than the very thick smell of flowery incense that permeated through the entire house.

She must be going through something, with the way the confidence you first saw shattered into itty-bitty remnants— Leaving her to be so dreadfully sorrow as you watch her shadow cower… So you best leave her to it. Mama always told you to never involve yourself too much with strangers.

“Take care of yourself.” It’s all you can offer to the now solemn woman, sensing the uneasiness in the air and the way she just seemed so… Sad.

A desolate chuckle, and the fluttering open of the paper fan once more as it beats against the air, smooth and rhythmic as she seemingly regains her bearings.

As if nothing happened.

“You as well, child.”

Yet, she itches at your brain even long after you’ve been unceremoniously caught and dragged by the hand back to Satoru’s room the moment you’ve been found. You can’t ask that directly— Who even asks about a random lady they came across in someone’s house? So your brain goes for the next best thing.

“What’s your family like, Satoru?”

A genuine curiosity— It’s fine if it’s strange. You don’t have the most normal one either… Do you? You don’t really know, but you’re satisfied with it as is.

You think your Mama loved your father, at least for one day. At the very least. She doesn’t love him like she loves you.

(That’s what she tells you, anyway.)

So you find yourself parroting that question again when they look at you as if you had something loose in your brain.

“What?” Satoru looks… Appalled. All furrowed brows and jutted out lip, scrunched up nose and tilted head. “What does mochi gotta do with any of that?”

You only blink back at him as Suguru plops a mochi into your open palm. “I just… Felt like it.”

A scrutinizing gaze from him as Suguru watches you both.

“All I know is that my Papa married just ‘cause my Mama was a hair or somethin’.” You see him stuff another mouthful of mochi into his mouth. “And cwause she’s—“ A swallow as he pats off the sugary dust on his lips. “An Alpha.”

Not for love. Definitely not.

(And why would anybody want to marry a hair?)

“Mmm…” Your brain feels like it was starting to steam from overwork. None of this makes any sense at all. “I don’t get it.”

Your honest proclamation.

“I say you don’t think too hard about this kinda thing.” Suguru’s patting your arm as he licks cream off of the corner of his lip. “Satoru doesn’t make any sense half the time, anyway.”

“Hey! Yes I do!” A harrumph and crossed arms as he sticks his nose into the air in contempt. “I know that my family only meets with other Alphas so that everyone stays Alpha, ya know?” He swipes sugar off of his cheek as Suguru grimaces, still speaking with his mouth full as he tries to make his point. “So I’m gonna be an Alpha too!”

No idea what that means. Though, Satoru had always been the type to tell you about things you never really understood quite yet. So you can only offer a pat on his back when he starts to choke on the sticky snack, hurriedly downing his milk as you choose not to dwell on it.

It’s not important to you now, anyway.

“Okay,” You smile as your eyes flicker from the mochi still in your hand up to the remaining 5 left on the serving plate. “Can Suguru and I finish the whole plate?”

“Wha— No! I want more too!”

——

And you go through those cycle of seasons once more, and in a blink of an eye— Elementary had begun.

“I can’t believe they don’t let you grow your hair out, Suguru…” Your voice is teetering on a soft cry, your arms hugging around his neck and resting on the backpack behind him as you press against the crook of his neck.

It’s a bit of an awkward hug, with how broad and stiff the bags were— They got in the way.

“Well… My mama said that’s just how public schools are.” He’s patting at your back, trying to soothe you now since there weren’t any other kids around—

The perks that come with coming early so that Mama could get to work on time.

It was hard, feigning confidence and bravery in front of her when the sun had barely started to rise. Smiling at her even past those school gates you were just too nervous to pass alone, waving her goodbye as you try not to show that you wanted to cry— You didn’t think you would make it through at all if you didn’t run into your beloved friend halfway through.

His hair is… Shorter now. Ear-length at best and not at all as flowy and silky and pretty as it once was when it was longer.

It felt freeing; the relief of knowing that he was assigned to be in the same class as you were, to know that you won’t be separated even when you’re in school with at least one of your dear friends.

Your only friends, so far. So you cling on, harder and needier— Enough for you to fulfill Satoru’s daily touch quota even if he wasn’t here with the both of you… And to sate your own selfish need for Suguru.

It’s strange, really. Since when did you crave touching them so much? Even through warm summers when the heat got unbearable, you remember laying with them on the floor to mope and complain about the humidity, hands intertwined together despite the sweat and uncomfortable, sticky feeling.

Even through colder falls where you 3 end up huddled together under Suguru’s blanket to read the newest issue of a manga, a small fight ensuing between all of you to decide who gets to hold the pages open— Due to the different reading capabilities; until the responsibility falls on you when the boys inevitably almost tear the pages apart.

(Manga is a treasure you need to be gentle with!)

So you’re used to their touch. Used to feeling their warmth so much that you don’t even want to pull away even when you hear the telltale sliding open of the classroom door, a running start-up that you both missed as the hug continues—

Before 2 becomes 3 upon the polished, and definitely less fancier wooden floors of your classroom, your fall greatly cushioned by Suguru’s front.

“Guess who!”

And there was chatter. A lot of it. Whispers under stiff breaths, blushes on red cheeks and eyes that kept sticking to him as he simply… Sat next to you, his finger poking at the bandaid upon your cheek from his tackle as you paste another one onto Suguru’s arm.

They haven’t stopped talking ever since that bell rang.

“That’s him, right?”

“Look at his eyes, that’s gotta be that kid…”

“My daddy said that his family’s got bad people connections.”

“No way…!”

“Did you hear? My momma told me that—“

Yet, he ignores everything, everyone else around him as his eyes lock themselves with yours, his arm wound around yours as he tugs you closer, holds you tighter.

“Aren’t ya happy to see me?” A V-sign and a bright grin as he nudges your shoulder with his own. It makes your mind blank, makes you block out the noise that had consistently surrounded him up till now.

So you make a decision when you meet knowing purple that signaled the same thought.

If your Satoru doesn’t acknowledge it, you wouldn’t either. An unsaid promise that will hold strong.

“Yea.”

("How did you even manage to find out? We didn't even tell ya." Suguru leans onto his desk, looking past the you who was sat between them and at the all too proud boy.

"I got Kimi-chan to investigate!"

"Stalker."

"Mn."

"Hey!")

So when lunch rolls about and Satoru is staring down at the last thing on his tray; a bowl of seaweed and tofu-laden miso soup and poking at the floating cubes of white… He starts complaining.

“Cheap stuff doesn’t taste so bad.” Though, you think the ¥250 your Mama pays per day for this to be a lot. That’s at least 9 stickers and maybe one lollipop.

(You’re not really that good at money yet.)

“Well sorry it’s cheap, mister rich kid?” Suguru’s not gonna budge, tone sarcastic and his eyes closing as he finishes off the rest of his rice, chopsticks clapping and eyes avoidant as he lets the rich boy steal another gulp of his strawberry milk.

All whilst said ‘rich kid’ still didn’t even bother to touch his tofu.

But you understand. You have food that you don’t like too, so he must be the same. You notice that he didn’t like bland food; things that were neither sweet, salty nor sour. Tastes that didn’t amount or replicate anything— He didn’t like things that tasted like nothing.

He didn’t like ambiguity.

So when he’s wiping his mouth of a milk moustache, he’s back to scooping tofu up and dumping it back in his bowl. Again and again, staring at it before… His gaze turns towards you. A glance at his spoon, and back— A repeat of his actions once more and—

A knowing grin.

“Say aaaah!”

“Aaaaaaahm.”

“Don’t make her eat your food for you, Satoru.” A scolding sigh when Suguru’s chopsticks pick up the cucumber that you absolutely did not want to touch.

“Hypocrite! Y’er eating the cucumbers for her!”

——

School is fun, even if it’s only the 3 of you. Even if you don’t have other friends to talk to.

“My dad’s an Alpha!” Tachibana… Something was his name. You don’t exactly remember it. A loud boy. You think you’ve heard the teacher muttering something about rambutans before.

“Ehhh? That’s so cool!”

“My mama told me that my cousin’s elder sister is an Alpha!”

“You guys have Alphas? Lucky…”

Yet they only approach, hover around your table like flies the moment only Satoru is gone, scrutinizing both you and Suguru as you try to read together.

“Hey, (last name)!” A slam of a grimy hand onto your table as you frown lightly. “What’re your parents?”

Yet you’re polite enough to blink up at him, to meet his eyes that were all smug and abhorrent— Prideful and spurning your discomfort.

(He didn’t wear the look as well as Satoru.)

“I don’t know.” Your voice unwittingly comes out small, quiet. Like you didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to respond, yet it tries to be firm. You can’t be strong all the time, but Mama told you that acting like you are will always work in your favour. He’s not intimidating per se— Simply uncomfortable to talk to. You’re sure nobody would like it when people get into their faces like this.

And it’s all too soon that Suguru drops his elbow onto said boy’s hand, smile ever so polite and put together despite the twitch of his knitted brows—

His sign of anger.

(Was this really your Suguru?)

The victim didn’t even have enough time to scream, face turning white as a sheet when he starts to hear literal cracks, eyes forced wide open and fear evident when—

No words are needed. Not when Gojo Satoru is the one that slides open the door, huddling various flavours of sweet bread in his hands as his face stays blank.

It makes anyone back off immediately, kids gasping as they run back to their seats and avoid him like the plague as chairs screech against the floor in their hurry to act as if they weren’t near his territory.

Yet you still won’t question it. You think it’s not your place to, honestly.

So when you’re walking back, it hits you that it’s something that you never thought about before, never cared enough about. It’s for the sake of knowledge, for the purpose of knowing.

(“Is she even paying attention ‘nymore?” Small hands clap in front of your face as Suguru practically has to drag you back before you inevitably try to cross the street at a green light.

“Not at all.” A snap of fingers in front of your eyes as both your occupied hands swung back and forth all to the whims of your friends.)

“Mama.” You’re staring at her as she reads through a newspaper, it crinkles along with the clicking of a pen and a flicker of her eyes towards yours as she hums in acknowledgment.

“Which one are you?” Your finger gently lands upon the dark print, pointing towards the headline once you recognize the word.

‘Betas in demand! Employers looking to seek stable—‘

She pauses. “Where… Did you hear about this?” A valid question. You’ve never really cared about it till now despite all the news channels she’s watched with along with you and all the newspapers you’ve helped her pick up from the front door… It didn’t make any sense for you to suddenly inquire about this.

“Tachibana-san was telling everyone how his Papa was an alpha.” You look back down towards the word. “And everyone in class started talking about that kind of thing too.”

Not a lie. At least, not a complete one.

“…I see.” She drawls off into silence, letting it hang over your heads with only your loud wonderment to fill the room.

You watch as she clears her throat, fiddling with the collar of her shirt and a hand briefly rubbing at the side of her neck.

You know what that means. Mama is nervous.

“Mama is…” You hear her pen click close. “An omega.” Her fingers start to trace the scarred over bite, her eyes meeting yours momentarily before going back to the newspaper.

Oh. Cool. But…

“Is that good?” A tilt of your head and a blink up at your pretty Mama as she blinks back at you. You feel her hand on your head, a brief rustle of your hair just as her pen clicks open.

“Alphas are usually at the top of the ladder.” A circle is drawn around the first symbol as she takes a breath in. “They are… Strong-minded people. You’ll see many people talk about them.”

“Like Tachibana-san?”

“Mhm.”

You blink up at her in silence as your hands settle down on your lap. That’s great and all, but you still don’t really get it.

Mama looks to the side, fingers drumming against the table before a solution prods her mind. “Suguru’s mama is an Alpha.”

Ohhhhh. She’s nice. Alphas are nice. You kind of get it.

“Betas are in the middle.” She taps against the the second symbol to continue, the head of her pen clicking open and close with an unsteady rhythm. “You’ll see a lot of them around.” You can see the way her hands are starting to tremble a little more, before she folds her hands over each other, a strained smile on her face.

“Kimiko-san is a Beta.” You didn’t know that either. She’s nice too. Betas are nice people too.

“And Omegas…” The one that your Mama said she was, right? You’ve been waiting for her to talk about herself, memorized that last symbol to a T. Kind of excited about this, maybe a little too much as you feel your toes clench and your eyes glimmer… Though you don’t really get why she chose to do her own last.

(Because your Mama should always be number 1!)

Yet it all comes to a halt the moment you smell something sour, helplessly watching in unsteady silence as she starts to rub at the skin upon her neck a little more roughly, pinching and pulling and digging her nails into her own flesh as she keeps her gaze stuck onto the newspaper below her.

You can sense how the air feels tenser, thicker. It felt like a stubborn lump in your throat, felt like it was going to crawl up your spine and envelop you whole as you watched her chew on her bottom lip.

“Mama…?”

A deep breath in, a fervent scratching against the marred side of her neck. You can see her trembling, see your Mama’s hand practically turn white with how hard she was gripping the pen. Is she—

“People say that they’re better off not existing.”

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