#AND i had a too good to go order so i did some walking to get there

[thanosscross]

In my Club - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader part 3

Summary: determined to give you a good clubbing experience, Ji-Yong and Seung Hyun show you their favorite spots to go, unknowingly making the K-pop idol fall for you harder.

Warnings: smoking weed, getting drunk

Going clubbing with Seung-Hyun and Ji-Yong was completely different than clubbing with your friends, as music blared through the house the three of you got ready, you were slowly warming up to Seung Hyun while being sober, it wasn't that you were scared or didn't like Seung Hyun, the issue was he was too hot, and he knew it. So you clung to Dae-sung and Tae-Yang until it was time to get ready. You giggled as Top bounced across the hall from Ji-Yong's room to his handing you to the joint he had, letting you take a drag before bouncing back across the hall to continue the rotation.

As you felt your high start to hit you, you started to dance along to the music blaring, straightening out your outfit, per request of Dae-Sung and Ji-Yong, you tried to make an outfit from Seung Hyun's clothes. You ended up with one of his black button ups with a smaller belt around your torso to pronounce your curves, the shirt ending a little bit before your knees, as Seung Hyun made his way back to the room he froze, biting his lip whenever he saw you, holy shit did you pull his clothes off. "Are you okay?" You asked quietly, shyly pulling at the sleeves "Is this okay?" You quickly added on, now nervous about what you were wearing "It's more than okay" He muttered biting his bottom lip as he raised a finger motioning for you to spin, blushing brightly you spun slowly on your tip toes, looking at Seung Hyun sweetly as you faced him again, Seung Hyun had a different expression as you faced, he was leaned against the doorway, arms folded as he bit his bottom lip watching you. "Stop staring" You demanded sheepishly grabbing your jacket to wear over your outfit, using it to shield your face and body from his gaze, also blocking your view of him approaching you until he slowly moved the coat away from you "Stunning" He whispered, resting his index and thumb on your chin to have you look up at him "Wear my shirts anytime" He offered before grabbing your hands gently "Ready? We've got a busy night" Seung Hyun smile, Ji-Yong waiting in the hall with a smirk on his face "She looks really good in your clothes" He commented, chuckling whenever you quickly made your way downstairs flustered "Trust me I know" Seung Hyun agreed, high fiving his friend before making his way downstairs, smirking whenever he heard his other two friends whistling and cooing at the three of you "Look at our sexy men! And Y/n! Damn girl! I might have to take you from Seung Hyun myself" Tae-Yang smirked, causing you to giggle loudly spinning around for him and Da-Sung, Seung Hyun put a possessive hand on your waist pulling you closer, feeling jealous of your openness with the others, yet you were so closed off and shy around him, failing to realize the reason on why you were so shy around him.

Leaving for the club Seung Hyun helped you in and out of the limo, never taking his hand off of your waist as you walked into a club you had never been into before, never having the patience to wait through the line, but with the two boys you got to just walk in. As you walked in you noticed Ji-Yong making his way to the dance floor, Seung Hyun leading you off to the side for a minute "Want to try some of my favorites?" He whispered in your ears, you tried to shrink away from his touch, feeling overwhelmed just by how hot he was, Seung Hyun raised his eyebrows chuckling as you were quick to step back into his touch "Y-Yes, please" You smiled softly, as you made your way, Seung Hyun groaned his face going bright pink as Bae Bae began to play over the speakers of the club, knowing it was Ji-yong's doing he made a mental note to scold him later. Getting your drink order in, you giggled "This is you!" You gasped, recognizing his voice from the first night you met him "Yes yes, it is" He mumbled now flustered himself, you just smiled handing him his glass before looking at him cautious, watching how he drank his before you took your first drink "Learn your lesson from the whiskey, Princess?" He asked softly, not realizing how badly the new nickname flustered you, you could feel your entire body heat up with a blush that time. Finishing your drink you resting your hands on his chest, realizing now expensive alcohol gets you a lot drunker a lot faster, Seung Hyun chuckled softly ordering you both another drink. The second drink went faster than the first, and by then, Seung Hyun could only get himself one more drink before you dragged him out to the dance floor. That's whenever Seung Hyun realized his one of his favorite versions of you were back, as he danced with you, swaying his hips to the music trying his best not to spill his glass while he spoke with Ji-yong about the next club they planned on going to, they just wanted to show you the best time possible.

The second club was even better than the first, and with every club you went to, you got bossier and bossier, Seung Hyun didn't mind at all, instead finding it amusing the way you'd go from being so timid and shy around him to not being afraid to tell him he's being rude and dragging him to wherever you wanted. As you stood in the fourth club, Seung Hyun standing toe to toe with you raising his eyebrows with his arm high in the air holding his drink "Please! Just one sip!" You groaned, he had taken the liberty of cutting you off, not wanting you to get too drunk, you were not liking his decision, which was very obvious "You said that last time and took it all!" He laughed, frowning as you gave him your best pout, Seung Hyun was staying stern on his word though, just shaking his head before spinning you around smacking your ass to motion to go back to the dance floor "I'm right behind you, baby" He said confidently, you made your way to the dance floor, still angry at him in your drunken state "Ya know! I am an adult! I don't need you cutting me off" You growled pointing your finger towards him, he just grabbed your hand pulling you closer "Just be quiet" He smirked playfully before holding your hips, moving your body with his, you only know noticed you heard his voice through the speakers again, he smiled watching your face light up and eyes sparkle with excitement. Your dance moves become a lot more you than Seung Hyun guiding you as your swung and bounced your hips against Seung Hyun's, he was too focused on how funny and adorable it was whenever you drunkenly realized he made music all over again to notice his friend making his way back over "How we doing!?" He shouted over the music, Seung Hyun smiled looking over "Great! Why? You ready to go home?" He asked "The guys said they're drinking at home if we want to come back" Ji-Yong explained, Seung Hyun nodded, feeling safer leaving you drunk with his bandmates rather than random people in a club.

Going back to the house you were confused, that was until Ji-Yong flicked on their speaker set and your two friends emerged from their places in their kitchen with drinks "Wooo! Our girls back!!" Dae-sung shouted, already drunk himself "Dae-Sung!!" You squealed rushing over to engulf your friend in a hug "Yes, You two lightweights, have a seat, especially before she falls over" Seung Hyun instructed watching you sway with every step you took, almost like you were on a boat. "You guys want to see something funny?" Seung Hyun whispered, careful not to catch your attention "Play either...Knock out...Zutter or High high and watch her" He instructed, leaning back in his spot on the chair. Tae-Yang quickly clicked onto his phone smiling as the bass from his bandmates song 'high high' started to bump through the speakers. You immediately perked up rushing to Seung Hyun excited, basically sitting on his lap "That's you!?" You shouted in shock, looking between the speakers and Seung hyun, who just nodded in confirmation. You immediately jumped up, excitedly dancing around to the beat of the music, Ji-Yong smiling as you spun around in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders as your rolled your hips, giggling as you continued to move around the room, finding your drink taking a few sips before finding Seun Hyun again, standing in front of him pouting, swaying back and forth as you tried to stable yourself. "What's up, princess?" He asked softly, taking your hips in his hands to hold you closer to him "I want another drink" You muttered, not sure where to find anything in the home "I think, you've had enough to drink" He offered, more like it was an alternative option, you rolled you eyes glaring at him, Ji-yong laughed tapping the other boys' shoulders "Watch this, this is what I mean by this girl is making Seung Hyun different" He whispered, watching as you pulled Seung Hyun to his feet, his friends watched quirking an eyebrow, knowing Seung Hyun could've stayed seated if he wanted, but he just stood for you, letting you drag him to the kitchen, even though he acted annoyed, they could tell from knowing their friend for so long, he was far from annoyed.

"Do it for me?.." You asked nicely, Seung Hyun sighed, taking you by the hips pulling you close "I will make you deal" He offered "I'll make you two more, but I don't want you to black out again" Seung Hyun whispered, you melted against his touch at his words, nodding in agreement, he slowly raised his glass to your lips, keeping eye contact as he poured the rest of the liquid down your throat. You didn't break eye contact as you swallowed it, Seung Hyun groaned in response, turning to make you both more drinks and distract him from how fucking hot you looked. As he turned back around he noticed you struggling with the belt around your torso, huffing loudly whenever you still get it unlatched "Hey, I got it, don't worry" He laughed, helping you get it undone before handing you glass, watching as you rushed away to the living room again. Walking out he froze seeing all three guys staring at him in shock as you sat blushing brightly on the couch "What?.." He asked cautiously "Mr. T.o.p has moves!" Ji-Yong gasped looking at his friend in shock, Seung Hyun only now realizing they could see straight into the kitchen where you previously stood.

"Leave her alone" He demanded playfully, walking up to stand behind you resting his hands on your shoulders, watching you take a small drink from your glass, making eye contact with him over the rim. Seung Hyun just smirked watching you take another sip, rolling his eyes he pressed his finger to the bottom of your glass the next time you went to sip, lifting the glass slightly to allow more liquid to go down your throat "It's not a sip drink, baby" he corrected, you just blushed brightly coughing as soon as you got the alcohol down. As the night progressed you watched Ji-Yong and Seung Hyun get fully drunk, both of them up dancing around the living room like idiots, thrusting their hips in the air before swinging their hips around to show off their asses. By the time they were done you were a blushing giggling mess on their couch, using the blanket you had wrapped around you to hide your face from Seung Hyun's gaze. Failing miserably whenever you watched as he slowly pulled the blanket down "Want to go smoke with Ji-Yong and I before bed?" He offered softly, you nodded softly, gently placing your hand in his, almost somewhat sobered up you blushed brightly as Seung Hyun pulled you into his lap.

It didn't take long for Seung Hyun to realize you had fallen asleep during the rolling process, holding onto your blanket tightly as you stayed curled up asleep in his lap. "So, Are you going to admit you like this girl?" Ji-Yong asked, Seung Hyun quickly shushed him, not wanting to wake you up, but even more not wanting you to wake up and hear him "I do, but she's just..she's so nervous around me...I don't want to force her into anything" Seung Hyun explained, keeping an arm around you as they smoked and talked. Whenever they were done smoking, Seung Hyun took you into his arms carrying you up to the bedroom, laying you gently onto the mattress, covering you up before turning to leave. You were quick to grab his hand, holding him in place "Stay with me" You demanded, he just sighed shaking his head "Baby, I wouldn't feel righ-" You cut him off by tugging his arm "I just want you to stay" You whispered, continuing to pull him until he fell onto the bed next to you, you sighed in comfort rolling around to face him as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as you laid your head on his chest, it not taking long for you to fall right back asleep, this time trapping Seung Hyun in bed with you until you woke up.

--

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@ag022123

@acehasmyheart

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[holylulusworld]

Jerk next door (8) - Lies to tell

Summary: You move in next door to a jerk after a bad breakup.

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mostly investigations

Jerk next door (7) - Plans to make

Jerk next door masterlist

Sirens. All you remember are sirens, and the scent of blood creeping into your nose.

Andy tried to keep you away from the crime scene, but the detectives coming to his house to investigate your ex-husband’s death wouldn’t let him.

Now you’re sitting on a chair in his kitchen, feeding lies to the cops. You nod and agree to anything Andy says—lies, of course.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” the detective clears his throat to get your attention. “You spent the evening at Mr. Barber’s house, and later, you went upstairs to sleep.”

“Yes,” you sniffle. “I had a terrible headache. Andy wanted to join me later. He wanted to work some more after dinner.”

“Good, good,” the detective takes notes as you try not to show how scared you are. If you forget the things Sy and Andy instructed you to say before calling the cops. “What happened later.”

“After I finished work, I checked on Y/N. She was sleeping soundly, and I was about to use the bathroom when I heard noises coming from downstairs,” Andy continues. He takes your hand, pretending that you’re deeply in love. “I silently walked back into the bedroom to unlock the safe and get my gun out.”

The detective watches Andy, quirking a brow. “You’ve got a gun in your bedroom. Why?”

“I’m an attorney lawyer,” the lies easily come out of Andy’s mouth, “more than once I got angry calls, or received letters in which the person threatened my life. And I got an angry ex-wife.”

At that, the detective chuckles. “So, you heard a noise and got your gun.” He asks, watching you sniffle silently. “What then?”

“I wanted to walk down the stairs, the gun in my hand,” Andy is quick to reply. “I saw a shadow move quickly. He growled something at me that I didn’t understand.”

“What did you do?” You pray the detective believes Andy’s lies, if not, you are all doomed and will end up in jail. “Mr. Barber?”

“I-“ Andy sniffs. “He threatened my girlfriend and told me to go to the living room. I didn’t want to provoke him, so I followed his order.”

“Why didn’t he tell you to drop your gun?” You suck in a breath. The detective asks all the right questions, and you fear, Andy won’t be able to keep up the wall of lies for much longer.

“I pressed it close to my leg, and the lights were out,” Andy replies without missing a beat. “It was dark. Maybe he didn’t see the gun in my hand. I don’t know, though. Who knows what is going on in people’s minds when they try to kill you? We’d never thought my girlfriend’s ex-husband would break into my house to kill us.”

“Sure.” Watching the detective take notes, you wonder if he knows that Andy and you are lying. “You never know.” He nods now. “Please continue, Mr. Barber.”

“I tried to talk to him, telling him if he just leaves, there will be no consequences,” Andy licks his lips. He wrings his hands, pretending to be sad about what happened. “Or something like that. I don’t remember. It all happened so fast.”

“Do you need a moment, Mr. Barber?” The second detective joins you in the kitchen. “Water maybe, or something to eat?”

Andy must fight the smirk wanting to creep onto his face. He knows all the tricks. She tries to play the nice cop, offering food and water along with compassion.

“No, thank you. I should tell your partner what happened as long as my memory is still fresh,” Andy tries not to be too proud of the construct of lies he carefully fed the cops with. “Where were we?”

“You told the detective you tried to talk to him,” you murmur, and pat Andy’s hand.

“Oh, yes. Thank you,” he replies and lovingly looks at you. Andy Barber is a great actor; you give him that. “He…he didn’t want to hear anything. Before I could fathom what happened, he fired in my direction. One of the bullets hit the wall and I dropped to the ground, searching for cover behind the couch.”

“I woke from a loud bang,” you continue. “I believed Andy dropped something. When I moved downstairs, I saw someone turn toward me, a gun in his hands.”

“She screamed, and that was when I got back up from behind the couch. I yelled at the man, and he turned back around, wanting to shoot me, but…” Andy releases a shuddery breath, pretending to be sorry for your ex-husband’s death. “I was faster and fired at him.”

“How many bullets did you fire at him?” The second detective asks. “Mr. Barber?”

“I think I fired two or three times at him. I’m not sure.” Andy turns his head toward you, worriedly looking at you. “I could only think about Y/N, and that he’ll hurt her.”

“I think we are done here,” you nod as the first detective slowly gets up. “If we have further questions, we will contact you, Mr. Barber.”

You’re too shaken to even get up. Watching the detectives leave the kitchen, you exhale sharply. It’s all you're capable of.

You should be relieved. The man tormenting you is dead. He’ll never hurt you again, still, all you feel is dread.

“Mr. Barber, I’m afraid you must leave the house for tonight, and maybe tomorrow. This is still a crime scene,” the detective says.

“He can sleep at my house,” you jump in, smiling. The fake smile hurts your face, but you try to play your part. “No problem. We just go and leave you to your investigation. After what happened, I couldn’t sleep here.”

“Thank you for having me,” Andy murmurs while looking around your guestroom. “I know I’m the last person you want to have at your house.”

“What if,” you sniffle. “What if they find out what you did? We will all end up in jail!”

He carefully touches your shoulder and says, “No one will end up in jail. Your ex-husband broke into my house and tried to kill both of us. It’s called self-defense…”

Tags in reblog.

[leaawrites]

The way I feel is oh so new to me

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: when Liam takes on a dare from his friends, he doesn't believe of finding himself making the biggest mistake in his life.

Warnings: Liam being a bit stupid, some of this is really unhinged, angst, crying, making out, suggestive, fluff

Wordcount: 2.7k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Masterlist

It was another full night at the pub as Liam and the rest of the band settled down in their usual booth, Noel with them. He’d been with them at practice, offering tips, advice, agreements to which They’d have to settle if he was to join the band. Control was what the most important to him. If he was in the band, he wanted to be more than part of it. Noel wanted it to be his band, and the other’s weren’t against it. They needed a ‘leader’ someone who knew what he was doing, guiding them. He was solely the only one willing to lead.

And then it hit him, for the first time. Everybody around him was talking, caught in conversations about everything: The band, music, some bird they found fit. Everybody was indulging in socializing, but nobody was talking to him. And she sat so far away.

A group surrounding her, Guinness in her hands while the other’s drank what he assumed was what she drank the first night too. They were all talking, but nobody was talking to her directly. Not the way he did. Not the way he would want to. She was part of the conversation, but she wasn’t in the conversation.

“Ya know, you may've said that you don’t fancy her, but then also don’t look at her like that,” Noel commented from beside him, observing his brother’s focused gaze and where it was drawn to - who it was drawn to.

“Fuck off,” was all that came back as an answer, though his eyes were still focused on her.

“What’re you so afraid of?” Noel kept on budging him, quietly enjoying seeing him in such distress over a girl.

“Nothin,” Liam answered, finally looking at him. “I’m scared of nothin', what’s your problem, mate?”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, earning a furious look from Liam and curious ones from all the others at the table.

“You are fucking insufferable.” Shaking his head before standing up, Liam walked over to the bar, ordering another pint.

It was full, bodies were pressed together, hands reaching to grasp another drink from the bartender. Liam squished himself between them, creating a space where he knew no one and nobody knew him, telling the bartender something he didn’t even understand himself through all the other chatter.

Though he seemed to get it, sliding him a new pint over the counter in under a minute.

Taking it with a nod of his head, Liam went back to his table. Not anticipating the conversation he’d have with Noel as soon as he’d sit back down. Nevertheless, he had no one else to engage with tonight. At least no one that wouldn’t want to chatter with Noel too.

“Liam!” A voice called out from another table, stopping him in his tracks and making him turn.

Searching for the origin his eyes caught a hand waving out to him, a drunk smile on her lips. One of her friends, he noted whilst walking over to their table. His eyes never leaving her hunched over figure. She wouldn’t even look at him now.

His smile faded for a second, watching her so distant - more than when he didn’t even know her, at least then she still looked at him - before his grin reappeared as soon as two arms flung around his neck, pulling him down. Drunk giggles falling into his ear drums.

“How’s it going?” he asked, stepping back a bit. His eyes flitting over to her every other second, trying to catch even the slightest movement of her head towards him. Though there was nothing, just the anxious tapping of her fingers against the glass.

“Good, very good,” the other girl answered, leaning forward while she laughed. “That new guy that’s sitting with you” - just when he thought he escaped him, he was brought up again - “who is he? He’s cute.”

“That’s me brother, Noel,” Liam answered, sighing in frustration but trying to keep his voice steady. “You wouldn’t like him, he’s a cunt.”

“He’s a hot cunt though,” she answered in a whispery voice. “Would you mind making us familiar before I get familiar with his body?”

Liam scrunched his face up in disgust at the pure thought that someone wanted to get intimate with Noel. Not understanding what anybody could see in that annoying twat.

“He’s not really looking for something,” he started answering, receiving a groan from the girl and an arm thrown around his shoulder that made him go quiet.

“We’re going to Noel’s, wanna come? He’s got some idea for a song, wanted to play it for us. Since we’re a band now,” Bonehead told him, his eyes flickering over the group of girls. “Maybe you wanna come too?” he asked them all.

The four girls looked at each other, all agreeing to one answer. Yes.

Taking Liam with him, Bonehead and him went back towards the exit, waiting by the door for the others to walk after them.

Over the heads of the other guests, he could see Y/n shaking her friend’s arm off her body, telling her something she couldn’t make out. Though he had a pretty good guess when they all walked towards them, excited smiles on their faces, and she stayed put. Nursing her drink, not looking at them.

“What’s up with her?” Liam caught one of the girls by the wrist before they could all flee outside.

“Don’t know, said she didn’t feel like coming. But that’s typical, she’s never actually up for some spontaneous fun,” she shrugged it off as normal before walking past him outside.

“Where you going, mate?” Bonehead called out after him as Liam went back inside, stalking towards her table. Noel held him back from going after Liam, telling him he’d know where they were and that he’d get there on his own.

Taking in a deep breath before he reached her, Liam leaned on his forearms closer to her in order to not having to scream over the music and talking. Making her jump slightly as his voice was directed towards her. So close.

“Look, I know you hate me and I deserve it, but I’m not gonna let you sulk here all alone, alright? Either you’re gonna come with me to Noel’s bedsit and enjoy yourself for a little bit, forgetting all about me, or I’m gonna walk you home,” he proposed. “It’s your choice.”

“Thank you, but I’m declining both.” Still not looking at him, she answered. Her voice steady but he could notice the hints of fear slipping through certain syllables. “I’m fine on my own, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“This or that, you have the choice. But I’m not leaving you here alone to end like some drunk bastard who can’t even remember the address of his own house.”

“I don’t need your advice, Liam. I don’t want anything from you, so fuck off and go after your friends. They’re probably already wondering where you are.” Going back to looking down at her hands, she hoped for him walk away, but he didn’t. Liam stayed leaning towards her. Trying to not looked faced by her bitter tone.

“Well, they can keep wonderin'.” He leaned forward a bit more, trying to take her hand but she pulled it away faster than he could blink. Like she rehearsed this all before, aware of what he’d be trying to do. “Look, just ignore me. I deserve it. But you don’t deserve sitting in a shitty pub because of me. Just come with me, have fun without glancing my way and enjoy the time with your friends. You’ll walk home with them and I’ll be nothing more than a guy you know from school, alright?”

A guy from school? Was he fucking serious? How could she just ignore him after all that, not even glance his way when her heart was craving to see his eyes directed towards her once more. Focused on her solely. It’d ruin her even further.

Reluctantly she stood up, taking the last bit of her beer down her throat and walking ahead of Liam out of the pub. Ignoring the small smile she knew was on his face now that he convinced her.

Walking side by side, both their hands stuffed into the pockets of their jackets, the time they’d spent together was silent. Neither daring to speak a word in case it’d make the other turn around and walk away.

Standing in front of the door of Noel’s bedsit, laughter was heard through the walls already. They tried to keep it down, but it was obvious that they were failing horribly.

Turning towards her, Liam started talking for the first time in ten minutes. “I know I’ve been shit to you, but can we please forget all that and act normal in there?”

“I’m not here for you, Liam. Neither am I here to play some invisible ghost, alright? I’m not gonna forget ‘all that’ and I’m not gonna forgive you. If you annoy me, I’ll be open about it and I won’t hold back,” she answered, hand hovering over the door handle. “You’ve got yourself into this situation, live with the consequences of your actions.”

Walking inside, she left him behind. Greeting the others with a kind smile, explaining that Liam convinced her to come. The others thanked him, making him nod. Noel being the only one that saw the desperate look in his brother’s eyes, the realization creeping up on him that this was the end now. There was no ship to sail home safely now, the wreck was already reaching the ground of the ocean.

“You good?” Noel asked, sitting down on his bed and tuning his guitar a bit. Looking up at Liam, his gaze was once more focused on the girl, talking with her friends and looking like a whole different person than who he’d been standing in front of the door with mere minutes ago.

“All good,” he answered, slumping down on the couch.

Everyone else found a seating place to listen to Noel play his song. Looking at him expectantly. Waiting for the first taste of ‘Oasis’.

“So, this one is called ‘Live Forever’, though I’ll probably change the name another three times.”

Everyone laughed at his joke, a small smile creeping up on his own face, loosening the tension that built up in his shoulder. This was the first time he ever played something that was his own in front of other people. Glad that it were people he knew, people he trusted.

Playing the last few chords, Noel looked up at the small crowd that had huddled together. In awe at his words. Stars in their eyes, even Liam looked impressed.

He had to give it to his brother, he was a fucking great writer.

“Wow,” Y/n breathed out, leading the others to give a round of applause.

“That was really great, mate,” Bonehead said, standing up and patting Noel’s shoulder.

“Awesome,” Guigsy corrected him.

Slowly, one by one, everyone stood up and said their praise. A small blush creeping up on Noel’s neck at the amount of appreciation for his art.

Afterwards, they all fell into a rhythm of conversation. Small groups forming across the room.

A bit further into the night, Noel caught her body trying to slip out of the room.

“Where are you going?” he called out to her, making her freeze in her spot.

“I really need to get home,” she answered, rocking on her feet.

“All alone at this hour? Could end bad,” Noel said, sending a look towards Liam who only looked at him confused.

“I’m gonna be fine,” she said, growing impatient.

“You sure no one should walk you home?”

“It’s just down the street, nothing far away.”

Rolling his eyes at his brother’s obliviousness, he kicked Liam’s leg before continuing, “Liam’s been bored out of his mind anyway, he’ll walk you.”

Turning around, Noel went back to conversing with the others. Ignoring both of the young adults shocked faces at his suggestion. Still, Liam took his jacket and put it on before slipping out with her. Not objecting.

“You said, this or that, remember? Not both,” she confronted him as they stood outside the door, listening to it falling shut.

“Well, I lied. Your fault for believing me,” Liam shrugged, lighting a cigarette.

Rolling her eyes, she began walking down the street, not looking back at the brunet, not waiting for his steps to follow her. Still they did, rapidly. Quickly catching up to her. The smoke floating around the space around them as he breathed out.

“You know,” she said, stopping her feet from walking. Turning to him, arms crossed over her chest. “Who do you think you are for just acting like nothing happened? Why do you think I’d forgive you for what you’ve done? Are you really that stupid? That spoiled with admiration? Everyone just listens and forgives you, no matter what you’ve done.”

“Right,” Liam laughed dryly, stomping out the cigarette under his feet. “I have it so easy.”

“You do,” she was basically yelling at this point. Anger pooling up inside of her like lava in a volcano. “What else do you want?”

“I don’t know, alright?” He answered in the same tone, his voice the same loudness as hers. “I don’t know how I’m feeling right now, I’ve never felt like this before. I just know, that whatever I’ve said to you that day was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he searched for his next words. “I was scared, alright?”

“Liam Gallagher was afraid?” she asked humorous. “What would someone like you be afraid of?”

“Feelings?” he proposed as an answer, making the sarcastic smile on her face fall from her lips. The ends of her lips being pulled to the ground, a frown appearing on her face. “I like you, alright? I do and I was scared of that feeling at first, but seeing you mad at me is by far worse than anything else. I never want to make you feel like that again.”

With a huff she turned around again, continuing her way down the street. Ignoring his words. Ignoring everything he just confessed.

Throwing his arms in exhaustion at her behavior, he stood still for a moment. Watching her figure appear and disappear between the street lights, before ultimately walking after her when her silhouette got to little for his liking.

He didn’t catch her, didn’t get to talk to her again when he reached her house, though he noticed the little space between the door and and frame.

It was open. She left the door open.

Looking to his left and right before walking towards her house, Liam took slow, cautious steps towards the door. Pushing it open gently, he waited for a sound to appear. Footsteps or yelling or even just the sound of the telly in the living room, though all he was greeted with was silence.

Taking a step inside, he could hear the floorboards creak under his weight. Leaving the door behind his back, he didn’t close it yet, wanting to be prepared n case he had to run.

With a sudden force, Liam was pushed against the door, a click sound following. He could feel her hands tucking at the collar of his shirt, pulling him down towards her. Lips were shoved on his, angry, hungry kisses falling between them. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he felt her chest against his, her heart beating against his ribcage. Forcefully trying to enter his body once more.

Quiet, sorrowful sobs escaped her lips between kisses. Tears streamed down her face, down her eyes and on their locked lips. The salty taste feeling like fire on his tongue, burning every atom of happiness that appeared the moment she kissed him.

He tried to push her back, getting her to look at him and explain everything so he could stop worrying, though all he received was her pulling him even closer and small whispers falling from her lips in the second they separated to catch their breaths.

“You idiot,” she mumbled. “You stupid idiot.”

“Why didn’t you just say something.”

“I really thought I was nothing to you-

“When you were everything to me.”

“You are everything to me,” he answered, finally getting her to look at him. “More than what I ever thought was possible.”

“I just got scared that you’d notice I’m not half as interesting as everyone always makes me out to be,” he mumbled.

“I don’t care if you’re interesting, I just want you to love me.”

“I do, I love you.”

[vizjpmdose]

How to Lose a Date dad!James Patrick March x daughter!reader. || 1.3k+ words. !!: Overprotective parent, threatening, not proofread. a/n: accepted this request since I already have a similar fic to this idea prepared in my drafts.

SUMMARY: You met a boy during the latest event in the Cortez, you wanted to go on a date with him but you hid it from your dad. Once your dad found out he planned to scare the boy off, and in order to get you back in his favor he decided to spoil you.

requested by: @tate-langdons-wife

Ms. Evers was like a mother to you. Someone you can tell everything to and she never judges, her advice are always so gentle too, unlike your dad's.. So you found yourself opening up to her about the boy you met during one of the events in the Cortez. You both did had a good talk for an hour and he suddenly asked you to go on a date with him. You stood there at the doorframe of a small bathroom in one of the empty hotel rooms, watching Ms. Evers clean the bathroom while you keep telling her everything. 

Ms. Evers chuckled lightly, actually enjoying your enthusiasm. "Oh, my dear, you should embrace these moments of youth. A handsome young man wanting to take you out on a date is quite the occasion! Does your father know?" 

She thinks that your father knows. But you actually don't want him to know. And you don't know where you got the nerve to not tell your FATHER about this. 

"No.." You muttered out, letting it hang in there for a little bit. "You know how he is, Ms. Evers." You added. A part of you feels guilty but you shook it off. "Promise me, Ms. Evers. Not a word to him." But just as those words left your lips, the room’s air grew heavier, colder. A familiar chill prickled your skin. 

"Oh, do go on, my darling. I wouldn’t dream of interrupting such a fascinating revelation." Your dad, 'Mr. March' spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Your heart dropped.. You stayed silent for some seconds before letting out a shaky sigh. "Dad, please-" 

"No." He replied plainly. He started walking towards you, the feeling of his presence growing more heavier as he even walks with elegance and fierce. "What did I tell you about these.. Little rascals these days?" He was talking about the boys these days, referring to them as 'little rascals'. He even emphasized the 'little rascals' as if there's a bitter taste on his tongue. 

"He's not a 'rascal', dad.. He looks formal and is easy to talk with!" You replied. You just really want to experience new stuffs. Your dad's lips pressed into a thin line. He's about to scold you for daring to defend a boy in front of a man like him. But just as he was about to scold you an idea popped into his mind. "Very well. If you believe this boy worthy, then I shall meet him." Before you can even react, he already walked away. 

You know you have no other choice but to follow that order. But at least he's kind of.. Considering it, right?? You told the boy about it, and he made you blush with the; "I'll handle your dad for you."  

Even you 99% doubt that your dad would even let the boy talk while he's talking with him. But at least the boy immediately agreed to meet your dad. That's counted as a greenflag.. right..?

The day where the boy will be meeting your dad finally came.  

The boy entered Room 64. The room where you told him to meet your dad. As the boy pressed the doorbell, a calm voice from the inside replied instantly. "Come in." The boy opened the door and stepped in, finding your dad wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit sitting on the velvet couch while holding a drinking glass with whiskey in it. His eyes dropped to the boy, he took a quick sip before gesturing to the armchair in front of him with a tight smile. 

"Have a seat." He spoke. The boy nodded and made his way to sit down. "Good afternoon, sir. I'm-" Before the boy can even finish his sentence, your dad interrupted. 

"You intended to take my daughter out on a date? What do you think of her?" He suddenly asked sharply. The boy's eyes narrowed, the way your dad just cut him off already got him embarrassed greatly. "Uh, sir, I just.. Yes, I want to take her out on a date. We had a good conversation the first time I met her in the latest event held here in your hotel, sir. I think our conversation could be more genuine while on a date, and.. I think she's great." The boy spoke, he used all the confidence he had in his body to answer that. 

Your dad raised an eyebrow as he slowly lowered his drink. "Great?" He asked as he tilted his head a bit and squinted his eyes. "My daughter.. deserves far more than great! She deserves devotion, respect! And a companion who understands her worth.” , "Would you kill for her? No! You can get her killed instead." He started snapping. He didn't even acknowledge the whole sentence that the boy said. Your dad's words grew more sharper that made the boy froze on the chair.  

"Out." Your dad ordered to the boy as he finally finished his lecture. "Out before I decide to wall you up alive." He threatened. In fact, he had been planning to actually do that. The boy immediately walked out in shame without a word. Your dad watched the boy from the window as he leaves his property. 

"Pathetic." He mumbled to himself. 

Later that night, you were so confused that the boy didn't even go to your room or texted you before leaving. In fact, he haven't texted you until now. You then found out from Ms. Evers that your dad scared off the poor boy that the boy had to leave without so much as a goodbye. You got mad, hella mad and upset at your dad even though you lowkey predicted that would happen. You decided to ignore your dad a whole day tomorrow or even a week if you could. 

Time has passed, it's the morning now and you just woke up. You're still mad as you remembered last night. But when you opened your phone you saw messages of your friends telling you through texts that the boy took another girl on a date instead. That means.. He wasn't even serious in the first place. As you read that, your anger for your dad slowly died down. 

The door of your room suddenly opened, revealing your dad. "What did I tell you, hm?" He asked out, reminding you that he's ALWAYS RIGHT. You sat up and brushed your hair back in frustration and defeat. "Dad, please stop randomly showing up." 

"Nonsense. I just want to protect you, darling." He scoffed out as he walked towards your bed. "Is that so hard to understand, my dear?" He asked softly this time as he started to comb your hair with his fingers and the feeling slowly made you calm down. "..No dad." You mumbled out in defeat. 

He flashed a soft smile and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. After that he stood up straightly again lets out a whistle, the whistle he uses to call Ms. Evers. Ms. Evers then came in holding a dress/other type of outfit that you wanted to wear on a date with that boy. You spoke about that to Ms. Evers, you told her how much you want to purchase that dress/outfit. Your dad secretly immediately bought it just to cheer you up immediately as well.  

"I granted your wish," He chuckled out as he watched your eyes widen. He then pulled out dollar bills from his pocket. He quickly counted it and gave it to you. "An advance allowance to cheer you up, my dear. Go hang out with your girl friends instead. They're more trustable." He added, your dad was right. Really right. 

You smiled widely as you took your time to appreciate everything he gave you right now. A good morning indeed. "Thank youuu!" You thanked him enthusiastically. "Thank you for saving me, dad." You added, softly and seriously. 

"Always." He replied, still having the soft smile on his face. 

"The boy is a damn watermelon, my dear. Green on the outside while red in the inside." He joked, following it with a loud laughter. Ms. Evers cracked a chuckle while you laughed along softly. 

likes/reblogs/comments are very appreciated specially in long fics like these. They make my effort feel appreciated and gives me more motivation. Thank you!

[kcalsforhim]

𓏲.ೃ࿔❀˙˖ ｡ thursday 9 jan 2025

༄.°

i woke up in the worst state someone could find me in LOL. i can’t recall much except feeling so fucking terrible ;; i did go to college and haku didn’t go to college so i was all alone

2 sugar free red bulls

2 sugar free coca cola oreo

in class for the first half i worked on a drawing for college then on the second half i talked with my classmates to make sure i could actually be included in the second half of the group project pretty please. i had a lot of cool ideas and that is a lot of fun im excited for that

then when i was walking home my mom sends me a text, she got called by a number and she’s asking me who it is. i checked and the number called me too

earlier in the day i sent my mental health coordinator at college that i wanted to commit suicide on new years and i ended up not doing it, and that im just kind of lost now ;; and she started panicking and called me

we had a nice conversation on the phone about a new special trajectory for me so that i can calm down and obviously get extra help and bla bla. this has been weighing on me for like.. ever since i started college again, but mostly since start of november, that’s also when i started binge eating.. or well, it started developing.

afterwards i just started to stress and i wanted to binge, it was a good convo, but i wanted to eat everything in sight. instead i went to the shops to spend money there instead since another one of my comforts is shopping. (yeah i know lots of bad comforts)

i went to miniso and got lots of kuromi stuff, bottles and lunch box that’s tiny and even a hair straightener ; then i went to primark and bought a pair of sweatpants and a kuromi hoodie and pyjamas and more kuromi stuff. i also went online and ordered a pair of pants. yes i went crazy.

however, i got no food. when i got to my local train station i began my walk home and my knees wobbled and i just kind of half fell on the floor, i was so exhausted and it was. cold. icy cold. i called my friend and asked him to get me

he did and he was deadass pale like a ghost. he had to hold onto me when we got me some groceries so i could eat. he even pulled out of his savings to have enough for what i wanted to eat

he got me cigarettes and got me everything i wanted, just ingredients for a dish. he held me when i felt my legs giving out lol, he took me home and he gave me the longest hug ever and asked me to keep safe, i told him i would try

a pokebowl containing salad mix, spicy mayonnaise, edamame beans, half of an avocado, carrot shavings, cucumber cubes, shrimp and salmon.

4 courgette hashbrowns / cakes

3 medjoul dates

1 protein yogurt

i didn’t count my cals cause i knew if i didn’t eat something properly i would and will binge eat everything and i was feeling really emotional so i would rather eat salad and salmon than a big thing of cookies… im just saying… 3 dates instead of 1 for the same reasoning

its pathetic but i did half all of the ingredients at the very least, half the avocado, half the salmon, half the shrimp, ect ect. i made my mom a small bowl to eat out of too and that’s where the extra meat went (i ate similar meal today too)

i wanted to eat more and more and more afterwards but i ended up not doing it dont worry. i just chewed a lot of gum to get my jaw moving and active so that i wouldn’t go downstairs to chew on something else yk ?

i am relieved things in my life will change though, i’m relieved. telling everyone in my life i wanted to be gone on new years stressed me the fuck out

fitting for how i felt yesterday, i listened to it a lot that day too… it just resonates with me, you know ?

𓏲.ೃ࿔❀˙˖ ｡ stats for today

streak : 4 days binge free, thank god

cals : n.v.t

steps : 15.2 k

overall today went shit in well, EVERY regard, not just food. im cutting myself a little slack. the next day; so today as im writing this, i did eat the leftovers but only because my friend pulled from his savings for me to be able to eat something i find comfort in. my favourite restaurant is closed, so i have to make their dish from my own memory. i hope you guys understand but im ready to feel terrible by the next day (11th)

༄.°

[forevfangirlwrites]

Hey!!! I just wanted to start out by saying how much I love your work!! I look forward to everything you put out!! I was rereading the original how to handle fame, and there was one part where Jason said that Annabeth said she didn’t hate it when she told him about her interaction with Percy. I’m just curious to know how that conversation went between Annabeth and Jason. I can only imagine how Jason responded 😂

“Annabeth, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Jason says as soon as he picks up the call. She shakes her head at his antics, leaning back into her couch.

“Are you busy?” she asks, ignoring his statement.

“I’ve got some time before the next scene and I’d prefer not to engage in a conversation with the producer walking this way, so please,” he replies, fervently.

Annabeth smiles. “I guess I’ll save you.”

“Appreciated,” Jason jokes back. “So what’s up?”

What is up…honestly, she’s not sure why she’s calling about it. It could have been a text and there’s not really too much to say other than the fact the barista from Cali’s Café has not left her mind all day. (And she isn’t going to say that because she’s aware it sounds a little insane.)

“I checked out the café you told me about,” she starts slowly.

“Oh, awesome! Did you like it? The coffee is good and the place is lowkey, right?”

“Yeah, the coffee was good.” She pauses, unsure of what to say next. Does she ask about Percy? What could Jason even tell her?

“Why am I sensing a but? Was the service not good? I always have the guy, Percy, and he’s super chill. Not sure how the other employees are.”

“I met Percy,” she says. The picture of his face and sea-green eyes comes clearly to her mind the moment his name is spoken.

“What happened?” Jason asks, clearly sensing that something had, in fact, happened.

But really, nothing had happened. Sure he’d been awkward, endearingly so, but very sweet and had made great coffee.

No, he hadn’t done anything wrong. She is the problem.

“Nothing,” she replies. “He was awkward but it was cute. He forgot to charge me and said my coffee was on the house when I brought it up.” A smile surfaces as she remembers his cheeks getting red.

“Really? My order has never been on the house.” She suspects Jason might be frowning.

Chuckling, she replies. “Guess he like me more.”

“Are we in competition over a barista?” Jason asks and she imagines him raising an eyebrow at her.

She pulls the blanket closer to her chest and re-settles herself.

“No,” she replies easily. “I’ve already won.”

“Rude,” he jokes, before his tone turns serious. “I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable though. Honestly, he handled Thalia very well so I thought it would be alright.”

“Not at all!” She rushes to explain. “I was not uncomfortable, it was good and I’ll be going back.”

No Percy had not made her feel uncomfortable, just…intrigued. In the way that she wants to go back and see him again.

“Okay good, I’m glad to hear that. I’ll be going tomorrow morning anyway—oh, they’re calling me, gotta go.”

“Yep, talk to you later,” she says, as she hangs up the phone. She stares at the black tv screen she has yet to turn on.

So Jason is going tomorrow? Maybe she should tag along…just to see how Percy is with Jason. It’s for science really, nothing more than that.

READ MORE ON how to handle fame and headcanons

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt! I decided to add it to how to handle fame and headcanons as a little drabble, hope you enjoyed! I appreciate your support for the series! Thanks again!

[djarinova]

Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you / Oh, damn, never seen that colour blue

satoru gojo x reader content - alcohol mentioned, gn reader, first date, Gojo has a crush on you, friends to lovers - divider by @/saradika words - 1.2k reputation event masterlist

♡—This bar is nice, too nice, and Gojo is acting differently than usual... Hey wait! Is anybody else invited or is it just the two of you?

The night is warm, just a light breeze flowing through the city as the two of you sit together in the dimly lit bar. Your eyes follow the movements of the people walking on the pavement—a couple holding hands, an elderly man adjusting his cap, a young boy hopping across the tiles and his mother laughing as she pulls out her phone. All of them are gone from your view just as soon as they arrive.

The sound of Gojo thanking the waiter pulls you away from your people watching, his voice is low, and considering how loud the bar is tonight, quiet. You spin yourself back towards the white haired man, the waiter has already slipped away, but you spare a final glance back towards the window—the boy and his mother are laughing together.

“I'm sorry, I- What did you say?” You feel your cheeks burn under the intensity of his gaze.

Gojo laughs, tilting his head back, and you think for a second that he's going to fall out of his chair. You roll your eyes at him, at his overdramatic need to tease you for zoning out, and he rolls his eyes at you rolling your eyes, knowing that you have no idea just how adorably cute your zoning off truly is. You knit your eyebrows together and watch as Gojo starts fiddling with the paper straw that the waiter left.

You eyes flit from his hands to his face and you both end up smiling at each other when you look up and find him already watching you. The sound of his laughter puts you at ease, but you can't seem to shake that weird feeling that's still sitting in your chest.

“I asked if you wanted to order another drink.” He smiles again, that gorgeous toothy smile that he does when he's trying to charm someone. And you think it's working. “This place gets jittery if you sit too long with empty glasses on the table.”

You huff out a laugh, and skim your eyes over to the bar where you find the barman and a couple waiters talking a bit too enthusiastically. They point fingers around the room wildly and pass pieces of paper between one another like children passing notes in school.

You can see why they get jittery about empty glasses, this place is nice. The kind of nice that comes with private booths, plush cushions adjourning each stool, sparkling champagne popping every 15 minutes and those warm bulbs that sit hidden under every shelf of alcohol on display. You decide that it's one of those places you pass with friends on a night out, one of you expressing interest about going in, but a single look from the bouncer having you walking past the entrance with your tails between your legs and talking shit about how it's far too pretentious in there anyways, but still secretly feeling that bit of dejection at your rejection.

The place isn't as stuffy as you'd imagined, but you still feel out of place amongst the sparse crowd of people that directly surround your table. Not that that was particularly your fault, Gojo had given you barely 3 hours notice ahead of these plans tonight. By some grace of god you had managed to scrounge something out from the back of your closet—a long forgotten garment bag from a wedding or something—and you had hoped you'd be able to get lost within the others that Gojo had invited. But there weren't any.

It was just you and him. So far anyway.

And even though you know that Gojo always thinks he looks good, something about the way he looked tonight had made you unable to hold in your compliments. He had taken them unusually humble… And something about the way his eyes had lit up when you called him handsome had had your stomach doing flips.

You look at him now, pausing only to quickly flit your eyes across the menu that sits in front of you—you already know what you want, double shot of coconut rum and fill the rest of the glass with lemonade please, but maybe this place is too fancy for that… The dim lights reflect beautifully off of his hair, from certain angles you could almost believe the strands are golden, and the dark blue shirt he's wearing makes his paleness almost angelic. And although you can't see past his waist from where you sit now, you know he's wearing a pair of dark jeans (and his trustworthy black and white nikes) that make him look even taller and more slender than you thought possible.

Gojo coughs. His fingertips tap against the side of the menu.

“Perhaps we could get, I don't know, a bottle of something?” He gulps. “To share, I mean. A wine? Or…”

You narrow your eyes at him, amused. You've never seen him act like this before. He's usually much more suave and put together when he tells you the stories of all his successful dates. The image of him lounging about on your sofa with his heels kicked over the arm and his head in your lap flashes into your mind.

Wait–

“Are we on a date right now?” You blurt out.

It's his turn to be amused now. He sits straight up in his chair, moving to the edge and getting as close to you as possible before he leans forward onto his elbows. The table is small, he's barely 10 inches from your face.

He smiles, more genuinely than you think you've ever seen him smile before.

“Oh!” His hands fall atop yours. “You mean you didn't know? I'm wounded.” He sighs dramatically, but he has a glow in his eyes that makes you roll yours at him.

“Shut up.” You huff. “I'm serious, Satoru.” Your heart flutters as he loops his fingers through yours.

He blinks at you, tilting his head comically. The angle makes you laugh but your eyes are still narrowed.

“Well, yes. We are. Do you like it?” He indicates to the room, as if he made the place himself, just for you.

Your eyes flit once again from his face to the bar—the waiters are no longer standing there and the barman is busy making drinks. You feel your cheeks warm and you think about making a move towards the glass in front of you.

“Oh, I forgot.” You whisper. The reason for this conversation is now ringing through your head again.

You clear your throat. “We can have… God, I don't know…” The menu suddenly looks horrendously intimidating. “Anything is fine for me. As long as it's not white wine—or any type of champagne—and maybe not a rosé either, you know how I was the last time we drank that together.” You pause. “But I'm happy to–”

He's smiling at you again. Wide, toothy, and extraordinarily handsomely.

“What's the matter? Why are you– Oh.” You sigh, you just can't seem to stop yourself from rolling your eyes tonight.

“Yes, Satoru, I like it very much.” You match his smile with one of your own and you feel his hands squeeze yours.

Three times.

One.

Two.

Three.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I got these shoes from someone recently but thought they were way too plain looking, so I set out on a quest to customize them with some sharpies and charms and miscellaneous ribbon I had in my craft drawers. Mostly sky themed (clouds, rainbows, rain, stars, etc.) because that's my favorite aesthetic, but I had to include some cat imagery as well, of course lol.

[broke-on-books]

😍😍😍

[phantomrose96]

Okay I have a story.

So my birthday is this Sunday (May 26th). My mom ordered some presents for me but one of them (an Etsy purchase) was seemingly stuck in transit and might not make it on time. I tell my mom all good, no worries. She gets in contact with the seller. After a long delay in response they get back with "Right we'll fix it!" It ships, tracking label and everything, good to go! ETA May 22nd (yesterday.)

During the work day I check the tracking and it says it's been delivered in/at mailbox! I double check with my mom "hey, is it mailbox size?" because if not, I don't want it sitting at the front door where anyone walking by could snag it.

She says "it's definitely NOT mailbox size." Okay. I text my neighbors in the building "Anyone seen a package delivered? It's a birthday gift from my mom and I wanna make sure it gets inside!" Success! Floor 2 David (not to be confused with Floor 1 David) had brought it inside. Inform my mom. All good!

I stop by home briefly around 4pm, because yesterday was hot-hot and I just installed my window A/C that morning in the living room, and according to my cat cam my stupid cat hasn't spent a single second in the climate controlled living room and is, instead, voluntarily baking herself elsewhere so I'm like "great" and hop on my bike to go home (10 minute ride) to check on her.

I get in the building door. Patches is crying from the top floor because she heard me. I maneuver my bike in the front hall. The ugliest fucking 6-foot-tall cat tree(?)/totem(?)/statue(?) I've seen in my entire life is just. Standing there.

My first thought is "What the fuck is that." My second thought is "Oh fuck that is for me." I look around at the floor in case there's perhaps anything else that might, in fact, be the gift.

No. Me and Cat Pole.

It's taller than me. I turn it around to face me and its face is painted and this is, in fact, uglier than it looked from the back.

Um.

Patches is crying. So I just haul it up to my level. MAYBE it was supposed to come with twine that I wrap around it (and hide its face from the world) for Patches to scratch. Maybe this is a prank. Maybe this is an inside joke, because when my mom moved into her current house the neighborhood gifted her some ugly-as-hell totem that apparently, by tradition, each newest-comer to the neighborhood is required to have and display in their window so maybe this is a very good riff on that.

Patches rubs against it. She's not afraid of this horrid facsimile of her kind.

Great.

Meanwhile SHE'S fine and the condo is a little toasty but totally liveable so I'm like "Good, cool, you're not baking. You're having a good time. Enjoy your new sister, I guess, I'll see you later."

I go back to work because this is a problem for later me.

After work, after my run, after whatever, I get home and it's like 8:00pm and Patches is so happy to see me and the totem pole is still just. There.

I text my friends like "so a bday gift is here from my mom and it's the Biggest Ugliest cat pole I've seen in my life. Is this a bit? Did my mom go 'that's so ugly haha! send!' Maybe she genuinely found it cute. How do I navigate this." My friend Sarah has the good advice to maybe text my mom neutrally like "Got the cat pole!" and feel the waters whether my mom is like "Isn't it ugly? 😂" or "Hope Patches likes it! 🥰"

My mom goes to bed early so I don't do any of that yet. Problem for tomorrow me.

This morning, Patches wakes me up for breakfast. I get her situated and I'm staring at the fucking Cat Pole again. I wonder if my Mom's been wondering all night what I thought of it.

I take a picture. I text her.

Okay.

I get on call with my mom. I ask for clarity that the ungodly horrid thing is NOT my birthday gift and is in fact a mix-up from the seller who sent me this instead of my actual gift. She's wheezing between words. She thinks I'm being too charitable for the amount of Absolute Fucking Ugly this is. I have to gently talk her out of using the word "monstrosity" while messaging the seller asking what the hell happened here.

I tell her I need to apologize for harming her dignity with Floor 2 David, who thinks this fucking thing is my mom's idea of a great birthday gift for her to-be-28-year-old daughter.

My heart goes out to the poor soul who did actually order this cat totem and is lacking it on this lovely day.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ! ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO KNOWS JUST HOW TO KEEP YOU COOL DURING A HEATWAVE - WITH HIS D!CK !! ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, porn some plot, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst about suguru, inappropriate uses of popsicles, fucking in the heat, ice play, sex (p in v), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, cum fucking, pussy drunk satoru, implied multiple rounds, fanart by @ / umbra3terna on twt / tumblr (pls go follow htem, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 7,161

“It’s so fucking hot,”

“Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

What? 

You stared at the strongest sorcerer, his face flushed red, heat clinging to his cheeks, white locks blowing in the cool breeze of the fan, his shirt lifted up to cool him or maybe to tempt you, his melting popsicle dripping onto his burning skin — and your eyes flicked to the blue liquid slipping down his abs, then back to his face. 

The low buzz of the fan filled the silence between the two of you as you stared at him, “what?” The question slipping from your mind out your lips. 

Satoru Gojo had far too many outrageous things leave his mouth — he was insolent, arrogant, and even mildly violent (mostly towards Ijichi) — but you didn’t know if it was him or the heat — but you were considering it. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

(Him. It was him that was wrong with you.)

It was a heatwave in Tokyo. The one rare time you hadn’t been sent away on a mission, and you couldn’t even leave your apartment with the heat warning issued. Not to mention your central air breaks down, with a repairman nowhere in sight. 

It was just your luck. 

You rub at your eyes — and you weren’t sure if they were burning from your sweat or your lack of sleep last night. You’re blasting your fans around your apartment, stripped down to your shortest shorts and lightest tank top. You’re walking around your kitchen, using a takeout menu to fan yourself as you watch your order drive towards your place. There was no fucking way you were cooking in this weather. 

And you see a phone call come through — Gojo Satoru’s name flashing across the top of the screen. You sigh, contemplating ignoring the phone call, but you know he would only call a million times more, and you pick up. 

“Why did it take you so long to pick up my phone call?” and you shake your head, placing the call on speaker as you watch your takeout arrive at your place. 

“It literally rang twice,” Satoru’s patience had not changed since your time Jujutsu Tech — as you glance at your contact photo, a picture of him dressed in Shoko’s skirt from your school days, with Geto snickering in the background — though a lot of things had. 

“Two times too many,” you knew he was pouting. 

“Satoru, unless the next words out of your mouth is an offer is to fly me to a place where the weather is better, I’m gonna hang up on you,” you sigh, making your way to the door, opening the door to find Satoru standing there, looking far too stylish in a white t-shirt, his blue shorts hanging low on his waist, and sunglasses perched precariously on his head, your takeout in hand, “what are you doing here?” 

“Well I thought you wouldn’t  want to take a beach day with me unless I showed up to your place. Ta-da!” he lifts up a duffel bag, seemingly stuffed to the brim. 

“Satoru, there’s a weather advisory out. I’m pretty sure all the beaches are closed, and even if you’re immune to heatstroke, I’m not,” you step aside to pull him inside, the humidity sucking the little cool air you have in your apartment, “why did you think going to the beach in this heat was a good idea?” 

He shrugs, “An excuse to get out of the house, plus, my apartment’s cooling is out—“ 

“So you thought even if you couldn’t go to the beach, you could steal my A.C.?” you sigh, collapsing on the couch, “well too bad because mine’s busted too,” you glance over, but your gaze doesn’t find Satoru, seeing his paintbrush head stuck in your freezer, “you’re going to melt—“ he turns around to have a blue popsicle stuck in his mouth and you almost snort at the sight, “bring me one too.” 

“What should we do?” you murmur, sticking the popsicle in your mouth, as you laid back on the couch, sucking on the end of it, “watch a movie?” 

“It feels too hot to do anything but lay here,” Satoru sighed, the crinkle of his second popsicle white noise as you scroll through possible movie options on your phone, until you toss it away, metal overheating just as you were. 

“Well, we have to fucking do something other than just burn,” and you glance over, his white tee rolled up to expose his stomach as he ate his popsicle, and you raise an eyebrow, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like? Enjoying my popsicle,” he half mumbles as he continues to suck on the colored ice, “it’s better than it getting on my shirt,” You watch the popsicle drip onto his exposed abs, liquid pooling in the crevices of his toned muscles, you lick at your own popsicle, catching the drops off the melting ice with your tongue, wondering how much sweeter it would taste to lick it off his abs, “see something you like sweetheart?” 

His teasing words and wide grin pry you from your reverie with the subtlety of a crowbar, and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes, “You’re a dumbass,” you mutter, and he snickers at you, as you avert your gaze from him, and go back to eating your popsicle. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you as you slide the popsicle into your mouth, and you definitely don’t miss the way he eyes you as you suck at the fruity ice, before letting it slip from your lips, leaving only the tip of it pressed against your lips. 

“See something you like, Satoru?” and he has no reaction, shamelessly staring still, as he tilts his head. 

“I do,” he says without missing a beat, lifting his gaze to meet your own, “are you offering?” and you blink, before looking away — why was everything with Satoru a game of chicken? A bull’s rush to the line the two of you refused to cross, but did everything to pull the other over it. But neither of you had faltered, not in all these years. 

Not since the very last summer just like this. 

The sun had sunk past the horizon line, the summer night only predicated by the harmony of cicadas and the humidity that still stubbornly clung to the air, despite the sun being long gone. And that’s when Satoru had knocked on your door to tell you — tell you what had happened with Geto. 

He was gone. He had left. And he wasn’t coming back. 

And why was it that the signs were all there, laid out before you like directions to where he was going — and you didn’t see them, obscured by his empty reassurances and your own selfishness. 

You didn’t blame Suguru. Not after everything that had happened with Riko, Haibara, and everything else. But when you saw Satoru before you, despondent and broken — not a single inch of his usual flippant humor present, not a bit of his joy that he always had. But a part of you wanted to blame him — blame him for hurting Satoru, for hurting you, so prolifically. 

But you couldn’t blame him all the same. 

Satoru had spent the next few nights in your place, even sharing your bed at time, waking up with his long limbs tangled with your own, his face often buried in the crook of your neck, and you could see the evidence of dried tears on his face, despite his best efforts to cover his own tear tracks. 

“Do you think I could have stopped him?” he had asked you that night, his head laid in your lap as you flipped through the channels of the shitty TV you had brought from home and refused to replace, “do you think he would have listened?” 

“I think Suguru is even more stubborn as you are — because you were stubborn enough not to listen to your best friends,” your fingers cupped the bottom of his chin, “there wasn’t anything you could do — you can’t help someone who wasn’t willing to accept it,” 

“I could have made him,” and his skies contained in his eyes were infinite — just as he thought of himself — but he wasn’t. Because unlike the sky, he was human. 

“No, you couldn’t have,” you flick his forehead, and he pouts up at you, “and sitting here and wondering what ifs will do nothing for you — except drive you and your very excellent best friend crazy,” 

“Lucky for me she loves me even when I drive her crazy,” and you roll your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips, as he stares up at you, your fingers mindlessly tracing the length of his jaw, feeling the quake of his body as he shivered under your touch. 

“Very lucky,” and you could feel the pull between your bodies, the ever so slight way you leaned, willing for once to cross that line for him, for you — but he turned on his side, facing the TV instead of you. 

“What should we watch?” 

And you had promised yourself that night, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of your friendship, you wouldn’t do that to him — because you knew he had already lost too much. 

But now—he was the one trying to cross the line. 

You stared at him, before scoffing, “Shut up,” but you were too afraid to let him. Your eyes drift back to the TV, leaning back against the couch — it was for the best this way, “think the heat’s getting to you more than you admit,” 

“Maybe,” he hums, as you finish your popsicle and sigh, leaning back on the couch again, with a groan. 

“It’s so fucking hot,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the armrest. 

And you could feel his gaze on you, undeterred from before, “Then let’s fuck to cool off.” 

You almost think you heard him wrong, as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You must have heard him wrong. Satoru was known to make bad jokes or say ridiculous things — but not like this. And you find a smirk across his lips, but the heat in his gaze had not a hint of humor in it — burning hotter than the sun taunting all of Tokyo. 

“What?” You don’t know what you want him to say — say that it was a joke, say that you heard him wrong, or just say it again. But your eyes can’t pull away from his, the blue of his eyes pulling you close instead of pushing you away unlike his technique by the same name. 

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head, biting into his popsicle, letting the tip slip into his mouth, “we could fuck the heat away,” the idea slips so casually from his lips, as if he was recommending a movie or a book, and not fucking you here and now. 

“Satoru—“ your voice is chiding, you’re shaking your head, but the couch creaks as he leans forward, the remnants of his popsicle slipping down his abs and through his happy trail and seeping into his shorts, “don’t fuck around—“ 

“Do you think I’d say that to you of all people just to fuck around?” he raises his eyebrows, and your words flee your mind just as you wish to, but you sit, wondering if this is a literal fever dream from the heat, “you don’t have to think about it so much,” 

“Don’t I?” you scoff, shaking your head, as you get to your feet, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Satoru, why—“ 

And he’s getting to his feet, wiping the melted popsicle on his stomach with his white shirt, no longer caring as much as he said he did. And you can feel the heat radiate from his body, all consuming just as this heatwave was — clinging to you even as you tried to keep cool, sweat dripping off your flesh like the pleas that left your lips. 

“I’ve thought about this for too long, too many times,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your cheek, featherlight as if you’d break apart under his touch, “we’re sitting in your place — it’s just you and me. You’re asking why, and I’m asking why not?”’

“I don’t want to sleep with you just like that, I can’t. I want it—“ you cut off, but he doesn’t let you turn your head, hand cupping your cheek now. 

“You want what, sweetheart?” Your mouth was impossibly dry, the words unable to force their way from your throat, “tell me, please,” and the pleading in his voice breaks you. 

“I want it to mean something,” and his gaze softens, as your eyes meet his again, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips, “it’s not funny—“ and he’s daring even closer, a hand sliding down your side. 

“It’s funny because you could think I would ever want anything that’s to do with you to be only meaningless,” he murmurs, words fanning your skin, and god it was so fucking hot. Between the temperature, his closeness, and his words, you were sure you’d pass out, “do you know how many times I wanted to do this? So many times during the days and nights we’d spent together, I wanted to just reach over and pull you into a kiss,” 

“Then why didn’t you?” your brow furrows, “and why now?” 

“Because I’m tired of waiting for a sign, for something in my head to tell me it’s safe, that you won’t disappear,” his thumb rubs back and forth, “just like every good thing in my life,” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me at this point,” and his lips curl, a breath away, “Toru—“ 

“Can I kiss you?” and you almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t, the heat so thick it feels as if every molecule of your body was on fire, and the only thing that could quench the flames was his lips. So you just nod wordlessly. 

His lips find yours. It was chaste, a brush of his lips against yours, the lingering sweetness of the popsicle dancing on your tongue. It’s too soon that he’s pulling away, your lips mourning the absence of his touch already. 

“Feeling cooler?” his words warm your lips, but even so you’re pulling him back into another kiss, lips sliding against his firmly, his fingers tangling in his hair, wanting nothing more than to melt into his grasp.

And you part your lips from his for a moment,” Not at all,” and your eyes flicker to your refrigerator, “but maybe we can cool down.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was your lips against his pulse, or from the drag of the quickly melting popsicle against his burning skin. But neither of those compared to the soft groan ripped from his lips as your tongue dragged up his side, following the sticky, sweet trail of melted ice, mixing with his sweat, “well, am I sweeter than ice cream?” 

He’s too sweet. 

He’s certainly sweet like this, laid out on your bed for you, his shirt long discarded, his shorts about to join them. Soft pants made his chest rise and fall, slowing and quickening with your touch — his pulse thrumming under your touch. 

But he’s also sweet with the way he looks up at you, soft eyes to match his smile, as if he was made to look at you like this. And a part of you wanted to believe he was — even if most of you couldn’t quite believe it. 

Your lips curl, humming as you press a wet kiss to his sticky skin, “i don’t know, I need more time to make my final decision,” you lick up the length of the rapidly melting sweet, droplets of sweet sugar water dissolving on your tongue, but you knew it really was nothing compared to the taste of his lips. 

But you weren’t going to tell him that. 

You take a bite of the popsicle, before leaning down to kiss him, letting the ice melt between your tongues, as his fingers tangled in your locks, and soon enough he’s rolling you onto your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

And he leans forward, eating the last bit of the popsicle from the stick, “Well it’s my turn to taste now,” 

“You can’t even wait your turn for this, huh—“ the last word is a squeal as his fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts, snapping it against your heated skin, flames licking everywhere he touches. 

The melted popsicle runs down his muscles, rivulets running down the contours of his body, before dripping onto your burning skin, nipples pulling taut from the sticky sugar. He leans down to tease one nipple, sucking the melted liquid off, before doing the same to the other. 

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging your shorts off, thighs crying out in relief as the cool air of the fan did it’s job to ebb away the heat ever so slightly, drying the layer of sweat, “I don’t want to wait another minute,” 

“So impatient,” you chide teasingly, voice lilting and yet he looks at you with a half lidded gaze, sending a wave of heat right to your core. And the way your thighs press together doesn’t go unnoticed, fingers splayed against the plushness of your thighs, forcing them gently apart. Your cheeks burned, and this time not from the weather, “Toru—“ 

His cerulean eyes find the wet patch of your panties, a smirk pulling at the corners of his pretty lips, “Don’t think this is sweat, baby,” he teases, fingers skimming over the damp spot, “or should I make sure?” 

“Satoru—“ and your chiding is cut off by the sinful press of his fingers to your clothed cunt, his dark eyes lidded as they watch your slick soak through the ruined panties already. And you can’t help the way your hips buck against his hand, “you motherfucker—“

“Funny coming from the one humping my hand,” he grins, and his thumb grinds down against your clit, his other slipping under your ass to knead the soft flesh, “maybe it is sweat and I should just leave you to cool off,” his fingers slipping away, delicious friction that your cunt was already spread open, wet, and willing for— 

A whine leaves your throat, an all too pretty noise, “Toru, please, I—“ and his fingers are hooking in the fabric of your panties before ripping them off, quite literally, the sound of tearing fabric making you gape at him, “what the fuck—“ 

“It’s too hot for these anyway,” Satoru pockets the panties in his shorts, “look at this, you’re burning up,” he stares at your leaking pussy shamelessly — because shame was a word that Satoru Gojo did not know, “and I think I know just what to do to cool you down,” his head leans down, blowing softly at your inner thighs, over the sweat mixed your pre that coated your skin, your folds twitching, just as the corners his lips did, “so needy,” 

“You’re the fucking worst,” your words a mutter unfolding into a gasp as he drags a single finger up your leaking folds, gathering your slick on the tip of his index, and then he’s tracing a slow circle around your clit, “Toru,” your words are half pleading, half pouting. It’s so hot, his touch only serving to make you sweat — literally and metaphorically. You were sure your sheets would be ruined after this — and not just from your sweat. 

“Lemme savor this, you kept me waiting so long, Princess,” his reverent words pressed against your inner thigh, teasing butterfly kisses that make you squirm, a flick of his sharp tongue that tastes the sweat against your skin, “how’re you this sweet? S’perfect,” his words are seemingly more for him than you, pussy drunk without even taking a single sip. 

But not for long. 

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue flicking against the seam of your messy cunt, eager fingers pulling the sticky, sweaty skin apart, and your cheeks burn with how exposed you feel—and how self conscious you were. 

“M-maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m really sweaty—“ and the flat of his tongue drags up your sopping pussy, and fuck, good wasn’t enough to describe it. 

“Then I better clean my nasty girl up, right?” he cools your sticky skin with another soft puff of air blown between lips glossy with your precum, making you whimper as he pulls away, “one sec, sweetheart, think I need reinforcements,” 

The creak of the bed as he scurried off for a moment making you lift your head, an embarrassingly strong ache between your legs making you whine, legs closing, as you bit your lip, “Toru, what the fuck—“ 

And he’s back, but not empty handed — a glass filled to the brim with ice, a grin on his lips, “ready to cool off, Princess?” 

~~~ 

“A-ah, too cold,” you whine, and Satoru can’t help but disagree it’s far too hot — and it wasn’t the weather. It was you. 

You were always hot. You always had been — otherwise how else did you melt his icy demeanor from the moment you met? Too big of a chip on his shoulder from all those years spent at the lonely top of his clan, and you had no problem keeping company up there while kicking off his pedestal. 

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Gasps pulled from spit soaked lips, chest rising up and down, and your legs spread open just for him. You shivered as he dragged a half melted ice cube along your collarbone, water trailing behind that he was more than dragging his tongue along, the sweetness of your skin mixed with the tang of your sticky sweat. 

How had he resisted for so long? 

It had been years and years of pining. Of late night spent watching movies, of days spent fighting alongside each other, and even more days spent trying to get home to the other. And all that time, he still had stayed at the same distance. 

Because it was safer. It was easier. But he wasn’t know what it was — the heat, patience wearing thin, the fucking sight of your smile even in this fucked world — but he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Not without you by his side. 

“Think the ice would beg to differ, sweetheart,” he hums, as he presses a kiss over the pooling ice as it melts right above the swell of your breast, “I’d say it’s much too hot,” your nipples grow hard under his treatment, a hiss leaving your lips, as he sucks the ice water from one nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Toru, fuck, please—“ your words cut off with another gasp as he buries his face in the swell of your breasts, licking up the valley, before his lips find your pert nipples, lips closing around, sucking and licking, before nibbling at the skin. 

“You always this needy, pretty? Or is it just for me?” his words are said teasingly, but his eyes are just as desperate as yours, fingers dragging down your sides now, “better be just for me,” he mutters more to himself than you, as you gasp, ice cold fingers prying your thighs apart, “heh, what a mess you’ve made,” his fingers skim your dripping cunt, and he lifts his fingers to spread them in front of your face, your pre strung like spider webs between them, “don’t think sweat’s does this, does it?” 

And he turns his head, pressing kisses to your thighs, a glorified slip and slide from your sweat and pre alike, but how was it that you still tasted so sweet? A whimper escapes your bitten lips, his breath warming your pussy, a puff of air blowing over your twitching entrance, eyes sliding to the glass of melting ice. 

“You put a fucking ice cube in me and I’ll—“ he snorts, but grabs an ice cube all the same. 

“Only I belong inside you, baby, nothing else,” and he presses the ice cube to his lips, your eyes hypnotized as you watch him drag it back and forth, until he lets it slip into his lips, melting as he leans down, “now let me cool you off,” he presses his lips to your clit, a short kiss that has him melting all the same. 

You jerk. Cold. His lips tingled as his lips enveloped your clit, and his tongue was no better. Fucking freezing, a yelp that he rips from your body, as you can’t help but squirm. But he doesn’t let you get away that easily. Because nothing about the two of you was ever easy. 

His fingers press into your hips, arms pinning your body to the mussed sheets of your bed, as his tongue circles your clit, cold ebbing away with each stroke, until he’s lost in the warmth of your pussy. 

And Satoru only could wish he set up a camera — so he can watch you again and again with your gaze hazy with lust, tears welling like the condensation on the glass on making your eyes just as glassy, but you stared at him all the same. 

So he might as well give you a show.

“Fuck, could live in this tight cunt, you’re gonna be the only sweet thing I drink all summer,” the only summer drink he will settle for — the only thing sweeter than sugar itself — and he only one he wants. His tongue parts your folds, sinking deeper past your entrance, until he’s practically tongue fucking you, face buried in your cunt.

“T-Toru, ngh, too much,” and it was all too much for him — your soft moans, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs as he ate you out, and his tongue pulls back a moment, choosing to focus on your clit, as he sinks a cold finger inside, “fuck!” 

“Now you’re getting it, Princess,” he coos, and your scowl only lasts a second as his thick finger fucks you open, “gotta make sure I fit don’t I?” 

“You’re so fucking full of it—how about less talk and more—“ and he presses his erection against your leg, letting you feel how hard you’ve gotten him, and how fucking much he could cum in his boxers here and now. And you whimper, pussy clenching at the sight of him, “Toru, how will you—how—“ 

He’s so fucking big. 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” and he’s slipping in a second finger, as his tongue laps at your clit, “I’ll make myself fit,” and he would be the only one who would fit, the only one that could fuck your cunt, have his fingers curling deep, the only one making your head loll back against the pillow, “she’ll let me in, fuck you right, make sure I can carve out a nice place for myself — when I fuck every inch of her,” 

And his fingers piston into you, surely pruning with how your pre slips down his wrists and the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt grow louder, almost louder than the moans you make. 

Almost. 

“Said I’m the fucking worst, but it sounds like I’m the best, huh?” and you’re too far lost in the pleasure, nodding your head, as he’s fucked all the logic from your mind — leaving only want behind. And it seems like you both were on the same page now. 

It was nasty, the way his tongue took turns lapping at your walls, before teasing them open with his fingers. The way his sweat dripped down his face and mixed with your pre as he glued himself to your pretty pussy — and he was sure he could die of heatstroke with how fucking warm your pussy was. 

And he would die happy. 

But he knew you were close — with the way your hips were nearly grinding against his face and fingers, spit mixing with pre as he pulled away a moment, continuing to hit every spot that drove you to the edge closer and closer, “G’nna cum already, baby?” His taunting lilt makes you scowl, even with how far gone you were,  “s’cute, is it that easy?” 

“T-toru, I swear—“ and his lips latch to your clit, sucking hard, right as his fingers find that spot—and he swears your soul leaves your body, your body tenses under his touch, lovely lips falling open with his name on it as you cum. 

Well, more like squirt, your release making even more of a mess of yourself, the sheets, and him. It splatters across his face and hands, and he’s groaning, vibrating against your cunt, as he fucks you through your orgasm, sucking and slurping every drop you gave him. And it’s a feat as you absolutely drench his mouth, slick, sweat, and spit, dripping down his jaw. 

And he’s a fucking vision, once you get it back, far gone in the pleasure, as he continued to lap at you, until he finally pulls his fingers from you, and your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling as you watch him lick each one of his digits clean, sliding him into his mouth, “what? Y’know i love my sweets,” his tongue then darts out to clean your slick from his face, before wiping the rest off. 

You’re reaching for him, eager fingers finding his shoulder, as you tug him on top of you, before flipping him with ease, so his back hits the mattress. He stares up at you — and god, did he always look at you like this? And how did you never see it — and how would you ever stop? 

“Princess—” but you don’t let him protest, lips meeting his, a soft groan as you taste yourself on his lips, palms sliding down his sticky chest, and your lips journey downwards, ghosting down his body. Your lips linger over his raised nipples, tonguing and teasing them, a hint of sweetness that lingers from his popsicle undoubtedly. 

“And you said I was sweet, you’re the one covered in melted popsicle,” you mumble, and he smirks, but his reply melts into a groan as the tip of your tongue traces the ridges of his abs, “can’t take it, Toru?” 

“F-fuck, can you blame me, sweetheart? Been thinking about this for too long. Wanted nothing more, nothing more than you,”  and your lips graze down his happy trail, a sharp inhale as he shudders as your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down.

He’s perfect — just like every part of him, almost annoyingly so, if you weren’t too busy drooling over it. Swollen tip flushed a deep red, while the rest was a perfect blush pink that you wanted to paint your cheeks with, glossy with precum and sweat, begging to be touched. 

And you were more than happy to oblige. 

He nearly cums then and there when his cock grazes your cheek, smearing his pearly precum across your face. You turn your head, letting his tip drag over your lips, painting your lips with his pre. 

“Shit—“ he sucks air between his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets of the mattress, “not gonna last long at this rate—“ 

“I’ve barely started, surprised the honored one hasn’t cummed in his boxers yet,” he pouts, before he’s hissing as your lips press teasing kisses to your inner thighs, “can’t handle the heat?” And the tip of your tongue licks at the pubes above his cock, the melted sugar water clinging to the skin there, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock— “then maybe you shouldn’t have started this—-“ 

And his fingers sink into your flesh, and now you’re on your back, sweat making you nearly stick to the sheets but you could care less with the sight above you. His cheeks flushed as he looks at down at you, but his lips curled in the same grin he always had, “oh, I’m going to be the one end it,” 

“End it? Don’t tell me this is the last I’m seeing of you,” vulnerability creeps back in a moment, and his fingers traces the curve of your cheek and down to your lips — “didn’t take you the type to hit it and quit it,” 

And he snorts, “I didn’t take you as the type to know what that means,” but his thumb rubs back and forth across your bottom lip, “but do you think after all this time I could ever quit you?” 

His fingers grasp at the base of his weeping cock, groaning as he teases your entrance with his tip, marking you with his precum, your gasp making his dick twitch, as if it’s begging to be inside you. “All of this is for you,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his chest, feeling his heart thus underneath your palm, “it’s always been for you,” 

“I’m starting to think you didn’t wanna just fuck the heat away,” and he laughs, his tip kissing your entrance, just as he brushed his lips against yours. 

“Well, who said that was the only reason?” And he’s sinking inside you, inch by inch. And there far too many fucking inches. He groans at the sight of your folds, swallowing his cock whole, walls stretching around his length, “look how good you take me — this perfect pussy was made for me, isn’t that right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted in a silent moan, as your walls pulled him deeper and deeper, “not g’nna be able to control myself, shit, feels too good, princess,” 

“Feels too good to be like this,” you’re panting as the words leave your lips, your eyes glassy with lust — Satoru swears you could look at him, and it would be enough for him to fuck you all over again, “too big, Toru — you gonna fuck me stupid,” and you can feel his dick grow, pushing against your walls as he bottoms out, and you whine in return, “hngh, I wasn’t being serious—” 

“So tight,” An almost guttural hiss pulled from the back of his throat, and he’s smug as he looks down at you, mouth fallen open, “I’m always serious about fucking you stupid, sweetheart,” as he lifts your legs, pressing them to your chest, your ankles dangling next to his head, as he kisses the soft skin there, a wicked grin, despite the sweat trickling down his face, “it’s the one time I can be smarter than you,” 

He’s torturing you. Torturing you as he grinds his hips roughly against you, the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and the sticky perspiration between your bodies deafening, yet still won’t give you what you want. More than that, the heat between your bodies was too much — flames engulfed every muscle with every brush of his body against yours, every twitch of his dick inside you, and veins full of fire rather than blood. And you were sure you’d spontaneously combust in this heat, and he’d still fuck you all the same — letting himself be swallowed up by the fire just as well. 

Your moan was almost unrecognizable to you, the pleading in your voice bone deep, just as the heat was, “Please, Toru, move,” and he’s grunting, and you know he wants you — has wanted you all these years, and he only smiles at your words, a short laugh on his lips. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” and his fingers dig into your hips as he begins to fuck you, hard and fast. His balls slap against your skin, the noise ringing in your ears, and your cunt resists every time he pulls out — as if you never want him to go. And he never will. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this — see the way your lips part in moans; the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure; the way sweat drips down your face, running down into the divot between your tits; the way your tight cunt bulges at the sides as you take his dick so well — no, this is a sight just for him, “s’pretty, and all for me,” 

You’re already s’close after all the teasing all night, the sounds of his grunts and groans doing nothing to help as his tip rams against your cervix, and you’re sure his dick is fucking places you only dreamed of reaching, but still you can’t help but want more—so much so that the word slips from your mouth. 

He laughs, fingers pushing on the slight bulge in your stomach making you gasp, the sweat of his palm mixing with your own that gathered on your stomach, “Even when you’re getting your guts fucked, you want more, sweetheart?” and his fingers rub meanly at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive spot as his tip hits that spot that has your vision blurring again and again, “I’ll give you anything you want, because you’re mine,” 

And you’re surprised the bed frame doesn’t break as he begins to slam into you, but it does creak, begging for a break, just as you had begged for this dick. Your eyes water as he rams into you, rutting like a dog in heat, and maybe he was — maybe you both were. 

“Toru, Toru, I’m close, s’close, I can’t—“ and you’re so cute, like this, whining and begging for him, for the thing only he can give you — and he’s twitching inside you, and he knows he’s not far behind. 

“Cum for me,” he nearly orders, and his words are the thing that makes the ribbon of heat in your cunt snap. Your toes curl, as you cum hard around his cock, walls squeezing and shuddering around him as he only pistons into you harder and deeper, intent on making you feel pleasure in every inch of your body, and he’s shifting your legs, hands helping you wrap them around his waist, as he ruts into you, chasing his own high. 

You’re boneless and long gone, as your chest bumps against his as he fucks you, but you still manage to find words to push him over the edge, goad him as you always did, because you know right where to touch (especially now). 

“G’nna cum inside me, Toru? Fill me up with your release?” and he swore he lost the ability to breathe, heat and your words stealing the breath from his lungs, as he ruts into you, mix of sweat and sex making his head spin, but not as much as your sweet cunt does. 

He’s close, he knows he is, especially when he looks to see the ring of cum and sweat around the base of his cock, and when your fingers thread through his white locks, thumb rubbing against his undercut, to pull him back into a bruising kiss, right as his cock hits your deepest part again—

“Cum for me, Toru,” and he does, uncoiling at your command, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your walls, painting your insides, as he fucks it deeper into you with every roll of his hips. Debauched groans leaving his lips as he murmurs how perfect you are, because you are — even more than he could have ever imagined. His thrusts slow, the sticky sweat and cum drenching both of you and the sheets alike. He pulls himself gently from inside, groaning at the loss of your warmth, but also wondering if your cunt doubled as an oven — the cool air of the fan sliding over his bare skin a relief. 

He eases onto your side, pressing sweet kisses all over your face, before you bury it in the crook of his neck for a moment, before pulling away, “You’re all sticky,” you wrinkle your nose, with a whine, and he laughs, a shit eating grin on his lips — more euphoric than sarcastic. 

“Well, who’s fault is that?” and you’re pouting, brow furrowed. 

“The same guy’s bright idea it was to fuck in the middle of a fucking heatwave,” and he props himself up, the sheets nearly glued to him as he took in the damage, mussed and ruined with the mess of cum, sweat, and spit all over, “you’re buying me new sheets,” and he chuckles, leaning over to peck your lips. 

“I’ll buy you a new bed if you ever let me do that again,” and you shake your head, eyes fluttering open and then closed, as he nosed as the column of your neck, completely fascinated with the way your skin was glowing still after all of that, “you just gonna doze off after all of that? Such a nasty girl, we gotta clean up after all that, don’t we?” 

“Don’t wanna get up,” and he chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but the touch seems to make you whine, “fuck, but its so hot,” 

“And yet I didn’t hear you complaining when I was fucking you,” he tilts your chin up, glazed over eyes fluttering open to meet his, and how was it that your gaze alone was enough to want him to pin you down and fuck you all over again? “Told ya it was a good idea to fuck the heat away,” 

“Except when it ends up like this,” and he sighs, the creak of the mattress underneath, as he gets to his feet, “what are you—ah!” he’s lifted you into his arms, sweat soaked bodies sticking together nearly as he carries you through the living room, making a small pit stop to grab two ice cold water bottles, sounds of the TV still floating through the apartment, towards your shower. 

“Who said this heatwave was over yet?” 

A weather report was playing, a snippet Satoru caught before he shut the door. Reports say the heatwave is going to continue for the rest of the week. Residents are advised to stay inside until things finally cool down!  

“You hear that, sweetheart?” as he sets you down, turning on the water of the shower, letting the cold water soak you both, as he loomed over you, pinning you against the shower wall, “guess it’s just you and me for a week,” and he opens the water bottle, taking a sip before pressing his lips to yours, forcing you swallow the water, tongue seeking after it. 

His fingers rest below your chin, as his lips ghost over the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, before his teeth graze the hollow of your throat, as his fingers sneak down to tease at your aching cunt, sinking in to stuff his cum dripping down your thighs back inside, “lucky I know just how to keep you cool, right?” 

✧ a/n: its been super hot here where i live and i'm dying so i want gojo to come fuck the heat away.

✧ taglist: @mysticaltigersorceress, @kentocalls, @biblioth-que, @dreamtardisspace, @augustwinesworld, @totallytatum, @hanxyy, @sxnkuna, @spindyl, @rosiesroseas, @kxouri, @elisaj313-blog, @theelegantpotato, @peppertoastuniverse, @alwaysfreakingout, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @pompompurin-rambles, @catsgomurp, @admirxation, @ninikrumbs, @equanimoushuman, @mysticaltigersorceress, @eightantseatingapplesss, @notgoodforlife, @satowooo, @gojo-gets-me-wetter, @ivypinsss, @fayyyrieee, @hcn-eyes, @designerpvssy, @mua-for-now, @sukunabish, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @suguwife, @forest-fruits-jam, @pinkyvomit, @ranatherealestsigma, @gojosbrat, @megumibrainrot, @pxppygirl

[butchlifeguard]

interacting with my mom when shes drunk is like being stabbed to death with a paperclip

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Ooh they were right about fruit and vegetables and exercise and sunshine. It fixes you.

[ghostsprincess]

I can't stop thinking about Ghost being a better boyfriend than your ex, even without establishing that title....

This is a continuation of part one.

warning: mention domestic abuse

💀

Simon was there every night you worked. You never gave him your schedule, but he'd show up and settle onto one of the stools like clockwork. Soap often joined him, and while they carried on like always, you knew Simon's gaze lingered on your body. You could practically feel the weight as you took drink orders and pulled pints. It wasn't unwelcome. In fact, it made everything easier knowing you weren't alone if your ex dared show his face.

When your shifts ended, Simon would walk you back to your new place. The one time you insisted he didn't need to do that, he grunted and said, "What if I want to?"

You didn't mention it again. Instead you got into a routine of giving him a fifteen minute warning when your shift was going to end, and you'd head out into the cold night with him at your side. He was mostly quiet while you chatted about whatever was on your mind. When you'd ask him about himself, he'd reroute the conversation back to you. Then he would wait while you unlocked your door and stepped inside.

You always had the urge to invite him in, but you were taking up so much of his time already. And what would you do with him anyway? This hulking military man with kind eyes? 

You thanked him and gave him a little wave before ducking inside, and you knew he always waited until he heard the sound of your door locking before he left. 

"Y' alright, love?" he asked one night when you were starting to feel particularly good about yourself again. Your split lip had healed which required less makeup. You felt stronger for having left your ex in the dust. You were wearing a new top that made you feel sexy.

"Yeah. I'm alright, Simon. I feel really good, actually."

You served him a drink and refused to let him pay. You really ought to make him stop tipping you at this rate. He was doing so much for you and getting nothing in return. He was doing all of the boyfriend duties just as he had promised, but he never so much as touched you other than the occasional hand hold.

What if you wanted more?

He broke into your thoughts as he said, "I can tell. Ya' been smiling more. Almost ready to go?"

Tonight you felt like you were floating along the dirty sidewalk with your hand tucked in Simon's massive paw. He was keeping you warm without doing anything, and he listened to your nervous rambling as you tried your best to work up your courage. But the two of you reached your front door all too quickly.

"Get inside," he said, voice deep and tender in spite of the command. "An' lock up."

When he started to pull his hand away, you didn't let him. And you didn't budge when one of his eyebrows inched higher. "Not quite yet," you whispered, toe tapping the cement step you were standing on which put you slightly closer to him in height. "I have to tell you something."

Simon's lips pressed together in a tight line, and his chin dipped in a slight nod. "I need to tell ya' something, too. Just don't want to."

"What?" you asked immediately, the lightness you'd been feeling instantly replaced with a lead brick inside you.

"I'm leaving. Late tomorrow night. Not until after I make sure ya' get home from the pub."

"Leaving?" you whispered, heart pounding faster. He was in the military. Some sort of special mission involvement. You knew that much. And you could read between the lines to know that someone who looked and behaved like he did was probably about to risk his life, not for the first time. "Simon, where are you going?" you asked with tears in your eyes even though you figured he wouldn't be able to tell you.

Simon shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile. It was a rare sight, and it made you dizzy. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be worried 'bout me." You wanted to tell him you would be. You'd worry nonstop until you saw him again. You'd come to rely on him, but mostly you liked how you felt when he was around. "There'll be someone to walk ya' home from work every night. I can promise that."

You wanted to lean in and kiss him, but instead you threw your arms around his neck. He was so solid and warm, and the scrape of his facial hair on your cheek was somehow comforting. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you asked, voice breaking on a sob.

"I'll see ya' tomorrow, love."

He didn't move an inch as you extracted yourself, and the sound of his receding footsteps could only be heard once you'd locked yourself inside.

💀

Part three

[cybersunnie]

rock-a-bye baby

RAFE CAMERON helps his drunk stepsister get ready for bed.

includes 18+ MDNI / DUBCON / STEPCEST / fem!drunk!reader / unprotected sex (pull out method) / rafe being an unreliable narrator / emotional manipulation / misogynistic undertones / wc 1.9k this is a work of fiction. the behaviors depicted do not reflect my personal beliefs, nor do i endorse or condone such behavior in real life.

Rafe hated that you were his stepsister. 

A little over two years ago, you and your mom moved into his home, and because you all lived under the same roof, that made you family. Bullshit. What you were was an extra mouth to feed. A new problem he didn’t want.

And now, with your arm thrown over his shoulders, Rafe was forced to help you up the stairs. 

A party was thrown at the Boneyard, and you clearly had too much to drink. He wasn’t exactly sober either, but you were slurring your words and couldn’t walk straight to save your life. A part of him wondered if you were playing it up. While he was tempted to leave you behind as not to deal with you, he knew his dad would be pissed if he had, and his dad already disliked him enough.

Eventually, the two of you made it to your room, and you fell face-first to your bed, nuzzling into your warm sheets. Rafe scoffed, a hand running down his face as he turned to leave, but you stopped him.

“Rafe,” your muffled voice called out.

He looked at you and saw you hadn’t moved a muscle. “What?”

You raised an arm. “Clothes.”

“What fucking clothes?”

When he failed to read your mind, a groan left your lips, and you rolled onto your back, a frown tugging your features. 

Oh, he would do anything to wipe that off your face. 

You squinted and then pointed at the clothes dresser behind him. “Nightgown. Top left drawer,” you ordered, the words strung together. Rafe couldn’t believe you were bossing him around. When he didn’t move, you pouted, “Please?”

Spoiled brat. 

But because he was a good stepbrother, he bit back his snippy comments and went to retrieve your nightgown. As he opened the designated drawer, his eyes were immediately drawn to your lace panties. You must have forgotten that those were with your collection of nightgowns. He cocked a brow and picked one up, the fabric soft between his fingers. Who the fuck were you wearing these for? A little boyfriend he didn’t know about? 

Rafe looked over his shoulder, and while you were preoccupied counting how many fingers you had on each hand, he slid it into his pocket. He didn’t know why he did it. An act on pure impulse, he supposed. You wouldn’t notice if one went missing, right? 

He cleared his throat and grabbed a nightgown, tossing it to you. 

“Nice panties,” he commented, maybe a little too casually.

Once you processed his words, a smirk tugged on his lips. You wore a scowl, but he knew you were embarrassed. 

You huffed. “Shut up. You’re so weird.”

Before he could say anything more, you started taking off your shirt. 

Everything within Rafe told him that that was his cue to leave, but his feet were glued to the ground. You didn’t ask him to go. Maybe you still needed him there. Maybe you wanted him to watch. That must be it. You wanted him to see what you were hiding under those clothes. 

After some struggle, you pulled your shirt over your head, movements sluggish. His eyes traced the length of your shoulders, then lingered on your tits for a second too long. Even if he was your stepbrother, he was still a man. And a man had the right to admire the female body. Surely, you would understand.

“You can go now, y’know?” 

His gaze snapped to your face. You looked confused, wary. Fuck, what was he doing? He should leave like you said. No, he couldn’t. Not yet. 

Rafe found himself closing your bedroom door. He turned the lock. Click. “Nah, I’m gonna help you get ready for bed.” 

There was a long pause. “I don’t need help.”

“Cut the shit. You can’t even walk without tripping over yourself.” Rafe walked towards your bed, crouching once he was in front of you. He placed a hand on your knee. “C’mon, just let your big brother help, hm?”

He could see the gears in your mind starting to turn, but you must have ignored it because you said, “You’re barely a year older than me.”

Rafe hummed, unfazed. 

The hand on your knee lifted to the button of your shorts. “Let’s take this shit off,” he murmured, his eyes flicking to your face. You were just watching. 

When he unbuttoned and unzipped it, you moved, putting on your nightgown. Poor thing. Were you getting shy? Did you not want him to see you in just your lingerie? His fingers curled into the waistband of your shorts and gave a light tug. Not needing further instruction, you stood up, and he pulled it down your legs, fighting back a grin.

Too fucking easy.

As you stepped out of your shorts, a hand on his shoulder to keep yourself steady, Rafe stared up at you. The nightgown you wore was white and silky and stopped above your knees. He itched to push them up. Luckily, he didn’t have to do a thing. You raised the silk fabric just enough to allow you to remove your bra, and his gaze dropped to where your breasts were, your nipples hardening underneath. His lips parted, and he sank to his knees.

“Rafe, what’re you doing?” you asked, your eyes still hazy from the alcohol you drank.

Only then did he realize that his hands snuck up your nightgown, fingers gripping your thighs. He was mortified. Not because of what he was doing but rather at the thought you would reject him completely.

He loosened his hold on you. “I’m just, uh, testing the waters.” 

A crease formed between your brows. “What?”

“I’m testing—” his hands slid further up, “—the waters.”

And then Rafe paused. He waited for a reaction from you. For you to slap him. Curse him out. Anything. But it never came. 

Instead, you reached down to pry his hands off you. “Stop, what—? I don’t understand.”

“I do.” He held you tighter, closer, his chin hitting your abdomen as he stared at you, eyes wide and frantic. You pushed his head, though your attempt was weak. “You want this. You want me.”

You stilled. There was a look that loomed over your eyes. Fear. Fear because he was right. No matter how forbidden it was. How fucked it was. You wanted him. You wouldn’t admit that to yourself, but he knew that to be true. He just needed to find proof to help you realize. So, Rafe pushed up your nightgown and worked to spread your legs apart. And there it was, your cotton panties clinging to your already weeping cunt. 

“I fucking knew it,” he whispered, and his thumb hovered over your clothed pussy. “Shit, you’re so wet.” 

You shoved his hand away and squeezed your thighs shut. He watched your gaze dart around your room as if the walls were closing in. You looked overwhelmed—ashamed that you had been caught wanting him the same way he wanted you. No, he couldn’t have that. 

He stood up, hands reaching for your face. “Hey, hey, you’re good,” he soothed, searching for your eyes, your cheeks hot under his palms. 

Finally, you looked at him. “Rafe, I—”

“You trust me, right?” He gestured to himself, fingers tapping his chest. “Right?”

You shook your head. “Yes, but we can’t—”

He shushed you, your name a whisper. “We can. We just gotta be lowkey ‘bout it, yeah?”

You looked torn, your morals pulling you one way and your desires another. But Rafe had you stretched thin, and you caved in like he knew you would. “Right, yeah.”

A pleased smile flashed across his face. “I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised, your cheeks smushed between his hands, “gonna make you feel so good.”

Then he leaned in, his nose nudging yours. You didn’t pull away. He took that as an invitation and kissed you. The first was fleeting, lips brushing, barely there. You still didn’t pull away. After that, he didn’t hold back. He licked into your mouth, hungry. You tasted like the beer you got drunk on, and now he was getting drunk on you. For something considered so vile, he never felt more alive. If this sin were his doom, he would die a happy man.

Rafe was the first to part. “Turn ‘round.” You did as you were told. He placed a hand on your shoulder and another on the small of your back. “Bend over for me. That’s it, fuck, look at you.”

He had envisioned you like this before, but seeing it with his own eyes made his cock stir. With a suppressed groan, he folded over you, his chest pressed against your back, trapping you between him and your mattress. “Gonna make this quick, don’t worry.” His hand slid between the two bodies, working to get his shorts off. “Wouldn’t want us getting caught.”

He felt you nod. You didn’t resist. 

Everything after that blurred together. Movements rushed and jittery and fueled by unadulterated lust.

Rafe had your nightgown flipped over your ass and your panties down at your ankles, his hips rutting into you. He had to clamp his hand over your mouth to mute your whines, one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard. He knew he should feel disgusted with himself, but he wasn’t. Not one bit. He was right where he wanted to be, buried deep in your warm, wet pussy. And you wanted this, too. He knew you did, despite the glazed look in your eyes. You were just lost in the pleasure of it all. 

“Takin’ this dick so well,” he breathed into your ear, his thrusts growing desperate. “Shit, gonna make sure you don’t need anyone else. Just me. That sounds nice, huh?” 

His mindless murmurs went unanswered. 

You blinked once. Twice. You whimpered into his palm. 

That was enough for him.

It was better you stayed quiet, anyway. You wouldn’t want everyone in Tannyhill to know how much of a slut you were, letting your stepbrother fuck you like this. Rafe would hate for that to happen to you. 

When your cunt fluttered around his cock, he stifled a moan and sunk his teeth into your shoulder. He wasn’t going to last much longer. But he was keeping his word—he would make this quick. His hips stuttered against your ass, chasing his release, wishing he could just cum in your tight pussy with no risk of you getting pregnant. 

With one last thrust, he pulled out, stroking his cock until he came, painting your ass with his cum. 

He panted, his chest rising and falling. Satisfied, he stuffed his softening dick back into his boxers and put on his shorts, making sure the lace panty he took was still in his pocket. Slowly, you lifted your head off your bed and tried to push yourself up, your arms trembling. 

“Don’t, alright?” Rafe leaned over you, his hand brushing back the strands of hair stuck to your face. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you.”

There wasn’t much fight left in you. Not when you were drunk and all fucked out. So when your eyes found him, you dropped back to the mattress, nodding. He smoothed his thumb across your cheek then kissed your temple. And Rafe did as promised. He cleaned you up, helped you brush your teeth, and tucked you into bed. 

Like a good stepbrother would.

sunnie speaks! stepbro!rafe lacks sooo much self-awareness its crazy. also literally the filthiest thing i ever wrote. but i hope you freaks found how fucked up he is interesting to read?? i guess??? — remember, this is a work of fiction! let's chat about stepbro!rafe

if you like my work, consider following @sunniefics to stay up to date on all my future fics!