#But I think that's better than me stepping in in this case.

[itneverendshere]

Could you please write btchy!pogue where shes the one whos jealous this time and rafe savors the moment.

don't like the way she's looking - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x raf

the cut had a party tonight, like most summer nights.

the music was loud enough to shake the ground, beer kegs were getting drained faster than anyone could fill them, and people packed into the yard like sardines. 

it wasn’t fancy, but that was the point, pogue parties weren’t about appearances, you showed up, you drank, you made some bad decisions under the string lights, and you went home.

it wasn’t your favorite kind of night, but rafe had convinced you to come out, promising it’d just be a chill hangout. he lied.

instead of spending the night with you, he’s currently perched by his truck, surrounded by a rotating cast of pogues. you’re leaning against a beat-up picnic table, a half-warm beer in your hand, keeping one eye on rafe while he did his thing. 

by “his thing,” you mean selling weed to every pogue with a crumpled-up twenty and a dream.

to his credit, this is probably his best hustle yet.

rafe cameron, reformed asshole, and your probationary boyfriend, has somehow turned himself into the cut’s go-to dealer. it’s a whole thing, people like him now, which is fine. 

good for him, whatever, but some people like him a little too much. 

case in point? the girl currently throwing herself at him like a damn frisbee. you clocked her the second she strutted over. 

she wasn’t subtle about it, either—crop top hanging so low she might as well not have bothered, denim shorts so short they were illegal in some states. she’s leaning against his truck, like she’s in some fuck ass music video, her body language loud and clear. It’s the hand on his arm that does it for you. 

that, and her laugh. 

jesus, her laugh. high-pitched and fake, like a dying bird trying to flirt.

you’ve been rolling her eyes from the second she started talking, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. 

“you’re really good at this whole business thing, huh? bet you’re good at lots of things.”

you gag audibly from your spot, but of course, she doesn’t hear you. 

rafe, for his part, looks mildly amused but doesn’t say anything. still, you stay put, you’re not here to play babysitter. he’s not that stupid—he’ll shut her down. 

he better.

her next move is placing her hand on his arm. on. his. arm.

like she isn’t aware that his girlfriend is sitting fifteen feet away, the audacity. she’s batting her lashes and laughing at something he says like he’s the funniest guy alive, and you can see his shoulders stiffen, the slight step back he takes when she puts her hands on him.

“so, like,” she giggles, twirling a piece of hair around her finger, “what if i can’t, you know... pay in cash? ’m sure we could work something else out?”

rafe’s reaction is immediate, “i have a girlfriend.”

“oh,” her pout deepens. “that’s fine. she doesn’t have to know.”

at that, he laughs—an incredulous, slightly panicked laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “yeah, see, that’s not gonna work for me.”

she doesn’t take the hint. 

instead, she tilts her head, giving him what you’re sure she thinks it’s a seductive look. “c'mon, rafe. it’s just a little fun, bet she wouldn’t even care.”

you freeze mid-sip of your beer, brain short-circuiting.

you slam it down on the table so hard it splashes everywhere, your vision zeroing in on her like a predator spotting prey. you’re halfway across the yard before you realize you’re moving.

oh, you care, you care a lot.

rafe’s already holding his hands up like he’s trying to ward her off. “don’t know what you think is happening here, but it’s not. i’m not interested.”

“not interested in me?” she asks, like the idea is physically painful.

“correct,” you announce loudly, “he’s not interested. crazy, right?”

she squares her shoulders and glares at you. “who are you?”

“hi, i’m the girlfriend” you shoot back, “just wondering if you’re planning on embarrassing yourself any more tonight or if that’s it?”

rafe rubs the back of his neck, looking between amused and mildly terrified, “baby—”

“don’t ‘baby’ me, cameron,” you snap, shooting him a glare before turning your attention back to the girl. she’s still standing there, trying to figure out if she should fight or flight.

smart money would’ve been on flight, but apparently, she’s the stubborn type.

she smirks, seemingly not the least bit fazed by you. “pogues share.”

“how about i share this fist with your face? that sound good to you?”

she whips around, her fake-confident expression faltering “uh, excuse me?”

“you heard me,” you only stop a foot from her. your hands are on your hips, ready to pounce if she even thinks about mouthing off one more time. “can’t you take a fucking hint, or are you just dumb?”

“i didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” she rolls her eyes.

“everyone here knows he’s with me, you just thought you’d try it anyway, didn’t you?”

“it’s not that deep,” she shrugs, her voice going fake casual. “it’s just rafe. pogues share—what’s the big deal? you’re overreacting.”

rafe winces, stepping back as if to give you space to handle it. good, he knew better than to get in your way.

“you wanna find out how much more i can react? i’m feeling real generous tonight.”

her mouth opens to say something even dumber, but you’re already pouncing , not even thinking—your body just reacts.

“whoa, whoa, whoa!” rafe’s arms are suddenly around you, yanking you before you can do any real damage “okay, we’re going home.”

“i’ll punch you too,” you hiss, squirming in his grip. “let me hit her.”

he only holds you tighter against his chest when you try to kick out at her. “baby, come on.”

“this bitch said pogues share!’” you cram your neck to glare at her over rafe’s shoulder. “i just wanna share some sense with her.”

she’s already backing away, her hands up in surrender, “okay, whatever, no dick is worth dealing with a crazy bitch. ’m leaving!” she snaps, turning on her heel.

rafe’s grip lightens up slightly, thinking this is enough to calm you down, but unfortunately for him, you take it as a chance to get what you want. as soon as he lets you lose, you take one giant step forward and grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her back just as she tries to escape.

"get your ass back here," you growl, tugging her head back.

“jesus christ,” rafe’s eyes widen and he’s there, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind once again, pulling you back. “baby, let her go!”

she lets out a surprised squeal, trying to pull away, but you’ve got a grip on her so tight she can’t. “what the hell is wrong with you?!” she screeches, hands desperately trying to pry your fingers from her hair.

“okay, you’ve made your point,” he chuckles despite the situation, “let go of her hair.”

you release her, but not without one last, satisfying shove to her back. she stumbles, glaring at you over her shoulder with her hand pressed to her scalp.

“keep your hands to yourself next time,” you warn with a sneer.

she glares at you, and opens her mouth like she’s about to start some more shit—but then she seems to think better of it. with a huff, she turns on her heel and stalks off, her footsteps retreating into the crowd.

rafe stands there, rubbing his neck nervously as he watches her go. “you’re gonna get arrested one day, y’know that, right?”

you look up at him, eyebrow raised, a smirk curling at the corner of your lips. “and you’re gonna get your balls ripped off and be single for the rest of your life. how’s that sound?”

his mouth falls open as he stares at you.

“what? i’m innocent! i didn’t do shit. you just went wwe smackdown on her. i was standing there, minding my business.”

“minding your business while she was all over you?” you challenge, “she was practically trying to crawl inside your skin.”

“told her i wasn’t interested!” he defends, throwing his hands up. “even used the line— i have a girlfriend! that’s...the ultimate force field!”

you snort, crossing your arms. “she walked right through it like it wasn’t even there.”

rafe sighs dramatically, stepping closer, his voice dropping, that little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “gotta admit, that was kinda hot.”

you narrow your eyes at him, trying not to let his charm sway you. “hot?”

“yeah,” he grins, “watching you go full psycho really does something for me.”

you can feel your lips twitching upward despite yourself. “you’re such a fuckin’ loser.”

“am i wrong, though?” he teases, slipping his arms around you, his lips tickling your ear as he adds, “never felt more horny—or scared—in my life.”

you huff a laugh, shoving at his chest playfully, “stop trying to make me laugh, i’m mad at you.”

“you’re mad at me?” he leans in impossibly closer, pulling you flush against him.

“rafe—” you start, but he’s already tilting his head, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

“mm, y’know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “i like you mad. all fired up, it’s sexy.”

“don’t even,” you warn, hoping you sound firm, but it’s hard to when he’s trailing slow kisses down your neck, the press of his mouth sending shivers straight to your toes.

he doesn’t stop, of course. his kisses get sloppier, his lips parting so his tongue can flick against the sensitive spot just below your ear. 

“can’t help it,” he groans in between his work, nipping at your skin. “my girl’s too fucking hot.”

your hands come up to push at his chest, but they end up curling into his shirt instead. “i’m so fucking serious. you can’t sweet-talk your way out of this.”

“m’not sweet-talking,” he slurs, teeth grazing your skin, followed by the soothing heat of his tongue, and you gasp despite yourself. “just... appreciating you. can’t a guy admire his girlfriend after she defended his honor?” he bites down and then sucks at the spot until you’re squirming in his arms. “got me so gone for you, shit, it’s embarrassing.”

“good,” you mutter stubbornly, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

he practically purrs at the contact, his lips dragging down to your collarbone. “you’ve ruined me, y’know that? can’t even look at another girl.”

you laugh, your grip tightening in his hair. “keep talking, cameron. see how far that gets you.”

he grins against your skin, his teeth scraping lightly before he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. his hands slide down to your thighs, lifting you up like you weigh nothing and setting you on the edge of the picnic table.

“guess i’ll just have to show you instead.”

"rafe cameron," you start, intending to scold him, but your words stop in your throat as he steps between your legs.

“now you’re quiet,” he’s leaning in so close his nose brushes against yours. “where’d all that fire go, mm?”

your glare is half-hearted at best. “don’t push your luck, you’re still on probation, asshole.”

he hums thoughtfully, his hands sliding up your legs, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “not luck, baby. skill.”

“you’re so fucking insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, slipping under the hem of his shirt to splay across his warm skin.

his abs tense under your touch, and you relish the reaction, how his breath hitches as you dig your nails in just a little.

“irresistible,” he counters, his voice rough. his lips hover over yours, daring you to close the gap, but he doesn’t make the first move.

he waits, his eyes locked on yours, the faintest flicker of a challenge in his pretty blue eyes. two can play that game, matter of fact, you know you’ll win.

you pull back, smirking as you trace your fingers over the waistband of his jeans, “that’s pushing it, don’t you think?”

he exhales a chuckle through his nose, his hands moving to your waist, tugging you closer. “you’re so fucking stubborn.”

“me?” you scoff, your fingers dipping beneath the fabric of his jeans, making his tighten, his smirk faltering enough to make you feel victorious.

“yeah,” he repeats, though his voice is strained now. “practically begging me to fuck you here.”

“please.” you tilt your head, your lips grazing his jaw, “you’re the one begging.”

rafe’s laugh is low and throaty, a sound that sends a thrill to your core. his control visibly slips as you trail your lips down the line of his jaw, peppering kisses that grow increasingly slower, more deliberate.

his sharp exhale and the way his grip on your hips drops for half a second tell you everything you need to know.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, his forehead dropping against your shoulder for a moment.

you grin, pleased with yourself, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

“don’t sound to surprised.”

he shakes his head slightly, trying to clear it, but he can’t seem to stop staring at you. “god, i hate you sometimes,” he breathes out, his lips quirking up into a smirk that betrays his words.

“funny,” you retort, fingers sliding back into his hair to tug lightly. “don’t believe you.”

his jaw tightens at the sensation, a groan slipping past his lips before he catches it.

 “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says again, but his mouth is already back on you, a bruising kiss that steals every smart-ass remark you had locked and loaded.

your mouths move together with instinct, and when his tongue flicks against your lower lip, you don’t hesitate, opening up for him. he groans low in his throat as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, curling against yours, slick and overwhelming in the best way.

it’s messy and unrestrained, the kind of kiss that leaves you dizzy and drenched. 

rafe’s lips leave yours only for a second, his teeth tugging lightly at your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to let it drag between his teeth, his eyes locked on yours, all dark with something feral.

you don’t let him stay in control for long, your hands tighten in his hair, tugging him back to you, and this time it’s your tongue that takes over, sliding against his in a way that has him moaning like a bitch in heat into your mouth. he sucks on it lightly, the sensation only making your panties stick harder to you, and you press closer to him, your legs tightening around his waist, looking for some kind of friction.

when he pulls back, both of you gasping for air, his lips are swollen and glistening, his eyes glazed over with that unmistakable lust.

a string of spit still connects your mouths, and you watch, entranced, as he swipes his tongue across his lips, catching it before smirking at you.

“you kiss me like that again,” he murmurs, “’m not responsible for what happens next.”

[mormshaw]

I HAVE to address this MHA leak. This is getting out of hand. I think you guys may actually like this chapter if you pause and take a deep breath.

First, I rarely post about this kind of thing as I hate getting caught up in fandom drama- very few things take the enjoyment out of something quicker than people being pissy to each other (and to creators) because something didn’t go how you imagine.

BUT.

I need to say a few words in the defence of this new chapter, and I think there are a lot of really positive things going on that can be chalked up to character GROWTH and not character ASSASSINATION as everyone has been yelling about. Things that actually really tie up three really great characters in healthy ways, and in ways that also highlight the themes of moving forward and reaching out hands that the author has been pushing. I’m not going to address Ochaco’s growth here, which is also good, but I need to discuss the Baku-Deku stuff.

I’d like to preface all of the following with one important thing: when I read and watched MHA I never once incorporated SHIPPING into my enjoyment of these characters. It wasn’t the part of the text I was interested in. Did I think there were some cute moments between Izuku and Ochaco? Yep. But that’s about as far as it went for me. I also fully expected from day one that they would end up together because that’s how these kinds of stories in this genre go. I will also say that the character dynamics and growth between Izuku and Bakugo was something that is generally well done and a key aspect of why both those characters are so enjoyable for me-one of my favourite parts.

So, when I read these leaks, I actually found a bunch that I think tied up these characters really well.

I’m going to start with the big elephant-in-the-room one that everyone has been freaking out over. The: “Izuku would never turn down an offer to work in an agency with Bakugo that’s just so not him and he’s awful and I’ll never forgive him” thing that I just can’t…understand why people are angry about. This is a GOOD thing.

One of the things I actually sort of critical about in the INITIAL ending was that Izuku seemed like he still wasn’t putting himself first. One of the things that especially Bakugo KNEW to be the case about Izuku was he “never thinks of himself” and how self-destructive that was. We saw it time and time again- he was always sacrificing things for other people: his health, his time, even his QUIRK were sacrificed for OTHERS. He never put his own self-interest FIRST. He grew in strength, he grew and matured as a HERO, but part of saving people means also knowing how to save yourself.

The initial epilogue had this air of ‘he’s sacrificed something and he’s incomplete due to that’. Others (Bakugo and class 1-A) stepped up to help him fill that hole with the suit, and that thematically worked, but there was still a gap there for Izuku’s growth. I think this chapter completes his arc in the best possible way. Izuku did something purely for himself. He LEARNED that last lesson he needed to learn. AND he did it by ALSO helping Bakugo learn a lesson too.

Bakugo offers, in sort of a round about way, for Izuku to join his agency as a sidekick. He’s turned down other sidekicks because they thought he was amazing and wanted to be in his shadow. He wanted a sidekick that would say they would ‘surpass’ him. For Bakugo that has always been what he admired (and sometimes resented) about Izuku- Izuku wasn’t afraid to say that he would push himself to be better than Bakugo, and in doing so they both made themselves stronger.

But I’d argue that this rivalry was an endless cycle for both of these characters- not an opportunity for them to change how they saw each other. Izuku would surpass Bakugo and Bakugo would work to surpass Izuku on and on for eternity. Bakugo even mentions this in the hospital- that he hoped they would get to compete with each other “for the rest of their lives”. BUT that would also mean they would NEVER be more than rivals to each other.

When Izuku turns down Bakugo’s offer to be his sidekick, Izuku ISN’T saying “no, I don’t value you or what you did for me with the suit”. He’s saying, “I know what you did for me and I’m thankful for you, but I have to make my own choices separate from you.” Izuku is NOT Bakugo’s sidekick, or vice versa. They are adults that should have their own separate goals and lives. And, in a way, he’s also telling Bakugo, “you are your OWN person. You don’t need ME to be stronger. Keep pushing yourself forward on your OWN terms.”

And that’s the thing about Bakugo- from day one his growth has been DEFINED by Izuku. He’s pushed himself forward almost entirely because of how he sees Izuku, as a rival and, in some cases, as someone who he has to constantly try to live up to. That isn’t particularly HEALTHY. Bakugo sacrificed his LIFE to “catch up to Izuku.” Like, great acknowledgement of Izuku’s ability and moving on from being a bully, but not a physically healthy thing to do. There were a couple things about the initial epilogue that made me a little edgy because while Bakugo grieved the loss of OFA almost more than Izuku did (which was growth, and interesting growth), then worked tirelessly to get Izuku the suit, he did it because he wanted Izuku to keep being his RIVAL.

When Izuku turned down the offer to be his sidekick, but in the same scene also says he can’t wait to work as a hero again with his friends and see Bakugo MORE OFTEN as a guest lecturer in his Hero classes (which like, I don’t see why people are pissed about since that’s literally one of the biggest fanfic ideas people have been writing about since chapter 430 dropped), it actually shows how much more GROWN UP these two ARE. Izuku is acknowledging Bakugo as not only an EQUAL (not someone to chase after), but also a FRIEND. Someone he looks forward to seeing and working with. In fact, Bakugo saying “see you” isn’t a goodbye. It’s a PROMISE.

The panels of Izuku walking away are actual true character growth for BOTH of them. Izuku putting himself and his choices first, and Bakugo, for the first actual time in the ENTIRE SERIES feels like he doesn’t have to chase after Izuku. He can let themselves walk their own paths!

And, because the writing is actually better than you guys are giving it credit for, this choice actually does give them opportunity to still compete because Izuku will be on the chart now as an independent agent (because remember he’s not rejecting the suit and hero work, he’s incorporating hero work into a teaching career he’s ALSO grown to love and is good at). So now, as Izuku starts climbing the charts on his own (which he will because it’s Izuku we’re talking about), they can still push each other forward ANYWAY so like…that’s a GOOD thing. It’s like having your cake and eating it too, for BOTH of them.

Take off the shipper hats for a moment. And really LOOK at this scene. Is it kind of sad they won’t work together every day? Maybe. Does it mean they are growing apart and will never see each other? NO. They are closer than ever because now they are EQUALS and FRIENDS- neither is ahead of the other.

[luminousdecay]

Together forever - Illustration for a quick fiction I wrote about them

Read It on AO3

twitter / bluesky

///

A new beginning

A few moments ago everything was noises and colors, you closed your eyes and you only felt the reassuring presence in front of you, connecting from your foreheads and your hands. And then in a bursting white light, everything vanished. The nothingness is what hits you first and for a brief moment you disappear.

//

White light is piercing through your eyelids, making you get back to consciousness. You raise your hand to protect yourself from this new luminosity. You felt the grass, slightly fresh and humid against your bareback, and the sound of silence in your ears. A muffle sound of someone awaking next to you and you open your eyes. You see the hand in front of you. At first it seems it is not yours or from a distant and faded memory. Pink white skin and some iridescent volutes here and there. You quickly get out of your contemplation as another sound comes from your left. Jayce is here grumbling. You rise slowly and get on your feet, no pain, no difficulty. Your body is like your hands, pale skin and organic iridescence shapes. You take a first hesitant step before assuring your pace. You feel well, better than you've ever been, no discomfort, and you can feel much more the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the soft wind easing it.

You come closer to your partner : “Jayce ?”. He suddenly opens his eyes, a slight panic on his face. As he sees you his gaze softens and he sights : “Viktor, is that, is that you ?” There is some desperation in his look and voice. You answer, looking at your newly re acquired skin : “Yes. I guess it is me or, well, another new version of me” you smile as you are thinking about how much your appearance evolved in those past months, a true scientific case ! But him, apart from the new beard, shaggy hair and the pearlescent “crown” your hand gave him, he remains the same self, the same reassuring and glowy presence. He stands up quickly testing his bad leg, confused, but satisfied he can put weight on it.

You don’t have time to ask if everything is alright, that he is on you, embracing you. -Ah, Jayce and his constant need to touch-. You feel his warmth, it is like your new skin finally remembers what touch truly feels, and you give his hug back savouring his presence and the sensation, and he squeezes harder. After a few quiet moments he breaks the contact and takes you by the shoulders to have a better look at yourself. You felt his gaze roam over your body and as he does he smiles with disbelief in his eyes and reddish tone on his cheeks. He says, for him, in a whisper “you are beautiful” and louder “you … we are alive, in one piece and … well ?” and then proceeds to hug you once more and you can feel the laugh in his chest and your smile widening.

Suddenly he steps away looking unsure. “Well, first you probably feel the need to be a bit more … cover up ?” It is right, you are bare skin except where your blanket is attached on your shoulder. You caress it, it feels reassuring, “ I do appreciate the new sensations, or more precisely the old ones” You look at him “but yes some decency could do no harm, would you help me tie it up ?”. As you begin to unfold the fabric to put it around yourself like you did all these months before he approaches and helps you out. His touch is less confident than before and he moves delicately his hands around you. “You know Jayce, I will not break if you touch me, my condition since a few moments ago didn’t change” you say with amusement in your voice. “I know it is just that … I am still processing, and you were basically dead a few days ago and then … everything”. You catch his eyes “And who’s fault ?” your tone is mocking. He looks a bit embarrassed “Touché, but it was on your order, or another and hairier version of yourself”. You smile “I don’t think I meant to kill myself, you know talking could have been a solution”. He answers, still amused “ hey, am I the man of the action or not ?”. You both laugh, it feels good.

Elegantly covered up you look around yourself “ It is so strange, it seems that I have been there before, I have the same feeling from when I was in the arcane” you are watching at the almost endless grassy and wavy field, you spot some forest afar “but as you can see it is far more consistent” you look at your bare feet firmly grounded in the grass. Jayce is also looking around himself with a slight worry in his brows. You step forward and after a brief moment of hesitation you touch him on the shoulder. He looks at you surprised as your hand slides along his arm and your hands are joining. “Let’s go explore the world” you said facing the wilderness, and you look at him in the eyes “I can’t wait to see and experience what the possibilities in front of me have to offer” and you proceed to walk. He doesn’t immediately follow, forcing you to turn back : “Viktor I will never abandon you again” and on that you answer “I know, and you never did”. A brief moment passes and he joins you at your side, eyes glistening and a smile on his face, your hands are still firmly bonded, he adds: “Then go and I will follow”. And you both walk into this new intimidating but beautiful and quiet place.

[annaphoenix1994]

All I See is You

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

"So, how's everything been, Kiera?" Laswell asked as the women sat at a local cafe, catching up on topics other than work. 

She sighed, taking a sip of the glass of water the server brought her, finding the sound of anything else to drink to be nauseating to her as she found herself occasionally taking a bite of her sandwich. "They've been good. Much better since that shit with Shepherd has been dealt with." 

"I agree. With the water settling now, it'll be easier to focus," Laswell nodded. "I think we've earned ourselves a break for a while." 

"Well, speaking of breaks, I was going to talk to you about something," Kiera sighed, finding it rather difficult to tell Laswell, of all people, that she was pregnant and wanting to resign. "Nobody expected this, especially me, but I've been putting a lot of thought behind it..." 

"You're scaring me." Laswell narrowed her eyes, setting aside her drink. 

"As much as I've enjoyed my job, I think it's time I resign. Given everything that's happened, I don't want to risk putting my family in the middle of it again." 

"None of that was your fault-"

"Partially, yeah," Kiera scoffed. "I keep blaming myself. I can't get Fernando's screams out of my head since we found him. I'm not going to put anyone through it again." She explained, frowning and breaking contact with Laswell. 

"Is there something else bothering you?" 

She nodded hesitantly. 

"How far along are you?" 

"H-How did you know?"

"You know as well as I do that the C.I.A burns body language into your brain," Laswell chuckled. "I'm a mother myself. I know that certain glow." 

"I didn't know you had any kids?" 

"I never told anybody because I feared the same thing that you did. I respect your decision, Kiera. I just hate I'm losing one of the best Case Officers that ever stepped foot in our office, but it's not the time to be selfish. Are you nervous?" 

"Very," She breathed. "Simon is beyond excited by how he's been acting. I was afraid he wasn't going to take it well." 

"I can understand that. He's always been hard to read, but he always got straight to the point." 

"That he does." 

"He mentioned flying to London for a military ball, right? When is that coming up?" 

"He said it's on the twentieth of this month. He mentioned flying out on the tenth to spend a few days there before coming home. He wants to take me to his hometown." 

"That'll be nice," Laswell assured her with a smile. "Have you gotten a dress?" 

"I had one picked out, but I don't think I'll fit in it now!" 

"You never did tell me how far along you were," She snickered. "You won't grow twice your size every week." 

"I'm roughly seven weeks, coming up on eight. I go back for another ultrasound the week before we leave for London. Hopefully, she can tell us the gender, but I'm not sure if I want to know." 

"Afraid you'll be disappointed?" Laswell teased. 

"No, I think it would be more special for it to be a surprise. Although Simon wants a boy and I want a girl. I guess a part of my anxious mind wants to keep it a secret until the baby is here so that I can be with Simon as much as possible because I'm afraid he'll leave me if it's a girl." She scoffed, knowing better than to think of Simon that way, her previous relationship being a constant dark reminder of how some men were:

»»-------¤-------««

"I can't have more kids. If you're pregnant, I'm signing my rights over. I don't want nothing to do with it."

"You're mad that I might be pregnant, but yet didn't do anything to prevent it from happening? You know condoms are a thing, right?" 

"Not my job to worry about not getting pregnant. Birth control is a thing too." 

"Yeah, and so is keeping my legs closed," Kiera scoffed. "Oh, but you're always insisting on having sex whenever you feel like it. Condoms don't have the shitty side effects like birth control does. Weight gain, acne, bloating, cramps, everything, Joe. Doesn't hurt wear one." 

"No, you gained weight because you're always eating. Eating too much leads to acne. Cramps are from your period." 

"What's your excuse, then?" Kiera scoffed, arching her brow and nodding her head towards his gut. 

He pursed his lips, "You talk like that to me again, and I'll make sure you're not pregnant." 

"You wouldn't dare." 

"Try me. I'm serious. If you're pregnant I'm out. I'm not going through this again. I already have three." 

"Those poor souls," She scoffed. "But yet when your ex said she might be pregnant you didn't seem too sad about that, huh? You must think I'm stupid if you think I didn't hear you talking to her on the phone when you said you thought you were excited to hear about her being pregnant. Goes to show me that I was just a side piece to you when you did nothing but tell me what I want to hear because you were bored with her and got with someone else." 

"You're full of shit, Kiera. Go take a test. Now." 

"No. You want me to take one so bad, go get one." 

"Oh, so you're not worried about having a kid?" 

"I've always wanted one. If I am, I'm having this baby with or without you - preferably without you because you're acting like a piece of shit. I don't want my baby near that." 

"Fine, I'll go get a test. If it comes back positive, you either get out of my life or I'll go get a hanger." 

Kiera's anger peaked, not hesitating to slap him across his cheek, knowing that he could easily overpower her. "You do that again and my next hit will be to that stomach." 

She hit him again, knowing that he wouldn't do such a thing as her fighting skills have peaked since before they started seeing each other, her other hand balled and ready to fight after she taunted him. "You do that, and I'll kill you," She hissed. "Just fucking leave. You won't change, but I will. I'm not putting myself through this shit." 

"Good luck finding someone better." 

"Fuck, I can go across the street and find someone better. Anyone is better than you. Threatening to kill a life possibly inside of me? That's not a man, you're just an overgrown teenager."

"Is that really what you think of me?" 

"Oh, no, what I think of you is way worse than what I've said, but I figured I'd refrain from hurting your ego." 

He scoffed, stepping closer to her, using his height in a pathetic attempt to intimidate her, "Try me." 

"Now that you mention it, I will gladly begin," She scoffed sarcastically. "First of all, you can't expect to not brush your teeth and your breath smell good. And no, cigarettes won't mask it. Two, you can't say you give good head when, in fact, you don't-"

"You weren't saying that weeks ago." 

"Just like I also didn't say I had to finish myself off because you didn't last long. Don't get too hurt yet, I'm not done," She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Three, you can't walk around like you're ten foot tall and bulletproof when you're just as tall as me."

"Yeah, you're just as tall as me and just as fat." He retorted, aiming to hurt her composure as he knew her weight was something that she always frowned upon. 

What he didn't expect, though, was an immediate ego check. 

"Yeah? Well let me tell you something. I can control my weight. Until you can control your receding hairline, height, and dick size, then you can have a say in how you think I'm supposed to look. Considering you can't change those things about yourself, I suggest you shut the fuck up."

His anger peaked, pursing his lips and attempting to grab her throat only to find her shin pinning against his groin in a swift kick, making him drop to his knees to clutch himself. He didn't know much, nor care, about Kiera's career, unaware that she was elite in hand-to -hand combat and having fought off several men on her last deployment. 

She swore to keep her "military mode" on base, but in her situation, she couldn't help herself not to. He winced, hearing her scoff, "Didn't figure I'd get a reaction out of you with that little tic-tac between your legs," She began to interrogate. "When you can make yourself get up, I suggest that you quickly leave my house before I make you." 

"Yeah? You couldn't even lift me-"

"There's more than one way to skin a cat, Joe. I'll either make you leave, or call someone to come and get you." She warned. He nodded, catching his breath before using the counter to help him stand to his feet and pull his keys out of his pocket. "I suggest you don't come back. This is over." 

"Saved me from saying it. I pity the man who thinks he wants you." 

"I do, too, but I know the red flags to look out for, so I doubt it'll ever happen again." 

»»-------¤-------««

Kiera recalled the event like it was yesterday, immediately frowning as the altercation was emotionally tragic, especially gnawing at her with every positive thought Simon would put into her head, her trauma telling her that it wasn't true. She felt his love he effortlessly gave her, but she also wondered when he'd get bored... just like every other guy I've dated. They get bored when the spark is out, she thought, frowning as her fingers fumbled with the hem of her blouse. He'll get bored when I don't have the body I used to have when we met - when I'm stretched and scarred with saggy tits and more cellulite. He'll find someone better. 

Her raging hormones weren't helping her negative thoughts, either. Unaware that she found herself crying - sobbing - uncontrollably in public with Laswell staring at her in shock, never seeing Kiera cry before. "Kiera? What's wrong?" Laswell asked frantically, moving to sit across the table to sit next to her, Kiera's elbows resting on the table as she hid her face in her hands. "Are you afraid he's going to leave?" 

She sobbed, nodding. 

"I doubt he will, honey. That man is head over heels for you." 

"Yeah, for now. He won't see me the same after I have this baby. He'll get bored of my body and want to see someone else who doesn't have stretch marks, saggy boobs and cellulite. What if I don't have a boy? He'll probably leave after that, too - finding someone else who either already has a boy or to get another girl pregnant because I'm all used up." 

"Listen to yourself, Kiera. You're talking nonsense. I know your hormones are going crazy right now, but you can't let what happened with Joe talk you out of a healthy relationship." 

"You even said yourself that all men are shit." Kiera scoffed. 

"Yeah, but I'm also married to a woman," Laswell giggled, easing the tension and patting Kiera's shoulder. "I haven't known Simon for long, but I do know that he's very loyal and honest. He's been one of the most loyal soldiers I've ever seen. It's funny because when I see him with you or hear him talk about you, it's like I can't imagine him in that mask he wore on tasks. It's like two different people." 

"I didn't expect it either, so it's fine." Kiera huffed, wiping her tears from her cheeks. 

Aside from her own mother, Laswell was like a second - more stern - mother to Kiera - knowing her as well as a mother should. Knowing when she was upset, angry, heartbroken, and most of all - relentless. Laswell always compared Kiera to a force of nature when she was on the field, executing her authority on many levels, giving Laswell the confidence to send Kiera anywhere on the planet, knowing she'd get the job done and leave no trace. 

"I know it's easier said than done, but don't let your assumptions break your heart. Simon hasn't given you a reason to want to leave, has he?" 

"No, but he's still in the I think I'm in love stage," She doubted herself again, letting her traumatic experiences speak for her. "He treats me better than I deserve and I feel like I can't return the favor." 

"I know he's in love, Kiera."

"For now-"

"Stop it. Right now," Laswell scolded her, the woman's motherly instincts kicking in. "That man loves you, Kiera. When you were in the hospital after what happened in Chicago, he stayed in that waiting room for hours just waiting to get to see you. He didn't eat until I had to bring him something the next morning. When he did, he hardly ever left your bedside unless it was to give room to the nurses or to shower. Believe me, I walked in to check on you every chance I could along with Price. He didn't leave unless you did. When those doctors were dressing your wounds and changing your bandages, he wanted to learn too so that he could do it himself when you got back home. There was no way in hell me or Price could've talked him out of it and you know how devoted he is to his country," She continued, raising her brows as she spoke sense into her. "I bet you could call him right now and say you were hurting and he'd be heading this way. I wish you'd let yourself just give in and be happy. You deserve it, but you're making it seem like you're expecting the worst when you really have the best thing every woman wants." 

»»-------¤-------««

"What about this one?" Simon asked Eva, pointing down at a gorgeous diamond ring that was being shown in the case. 

"What do you think, dear? They're all beautiful, but do you think it suits her?" 

He thought hard on it, trying to picture it on her finger before he shook his head, "She'll probably think it's too big," He chuckled. "She's always been a simple person." 

"That she is," Eva giggled at the thought, separating from him a few steps before looking down at another ring that spoke volumes to Kiera's taste. It wasn't bulky nor too slender. A silver diamond ring with a princess cut and decorative diamonds along the silver band. "Look at this one, Simon." 

"That's gorgeous," He huffed, perfectly imagining how it would complement that pretty finger of hers. "I'll probably come back to that one, but I'm going to look around some more before I decide." 

He completely ignored the price tag... Eva thought as she watched him continue to look through the gallery, taking time in each ring he thought would be a good fit. "You look like you're pondering on asking the big question." An employee smiled at him from the other side of the case. 

"Oh, I'm done pondering - I've already decided. Now I'm just doing the hard part on finding the perfect one." 

"I'll be glad to help you with that if you'd like?" The woman asked, visibly too cheerful to assist him. Are all women like this? He thought to himself, wondering if he was really that attractive or if she was just browsing herself for a man. Seeing that she had no ring on her finger, Simon assumed that was why she was so adamant. Or she's just doing her job. 

"You know more about it than I do," He chuckled anxiously, hating having to ask someone for assistance. "There's a few in here that I like, but I keep being drawn back to one and I don't know if she'd like it or not. I want it to be special for her." 

The employee smiled, adjusting her weight on her heels before splaying her hands on the case, a pathetic attempt at showing Simon that she wasn't taken if he wanted to keep shopping. "I'll be glad to help. What's her name?" 

"Kiera." 

"Beautiful name," She smiled. "Do you have a photo of her by chance? Don't worry, I do this with every expecting fiancé so I can help with rings that complement their lifestyle." 

Sure you do, Simon scoffed to himself. Prying isn't going to open up a door for you, lass.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and set it on the case, tapping on the screen once for his favorite wallpaper to appear in front of the woman's eyes - the photo he took of her recently when they went on a date by the river. 

Oh, I know her...

He watched how the woman made a furrowed expression, "I love the dress." She forced the compliment.

"I do, too." He said sternly. 

"I can see that," She nodded, glancing at Kiera's mother as she approached Simon's side.

"I have a few that are in the size you're probably wanting. What's your budget?" 

"I'm not worried about that."

"Oh, okay," She nearly gasped, never truly hearing that before. "You mentioned you had a ring in mind already? Which one were you looking at?" 

"It was style 68843," Eva answered, knowing Simon didn't look at the number nor the price tag. With a giggle, she watched Simon nod at the employee before she waltzed off to find the style number, taking a few moments before she returned to her new customer with the ring between her thumb and index finger, easily setting it in Simon's hand as he looked at it closer. 

"Bloody perfect, yeah?" He asked Eva, letting her take a closer look herself as she nodded in approval. 

"She'll love it, dear. It definitely looks like something she'd wear." 

"I think so, too. What size is this one?" 

"Um..." The employee hummed before reaching for the tag, the tip of her acrylic nail scraping his thumb subtly as she turned the tag to look. "This one is a six." 

"That's just her size, Simon." 

"She must have some tiny fingers," The clerk giggled. "Don't have many women come in with that size." 

"Her hands are very small," Simon agreed, chuckling at the thought of how small they were in his hands. "I didn't realize how small she was because I'm twice her size," He continued, looking at the diameter of the band and comparing it mentally to the size of his fingers, concluding that if he were to truly compare, his pinky finger would probably be the closest to her ring finger size. "Tiny feet, tiny ears, tiny nose..." And a tiny baby in that perfect belly, he thought, thankful that he didn't mention it in front of her mother...again. 

You wouldn't be wanting to marry her if you would've seen how big she was in high school, the clerk thought negatively. Being one of Kiera's former bullies in school, she would never admit that she was jealous. Especially seeing the man before her that was wanting to ask the big question. God, you're so tall...

"Well, I think this one would be perfect with the picture you showed me. It looks like it would suit her well."

Simon took notice of the clerk's jealousy, taking the perfect opportunity to continue talking about Kiera to piss her off, pleased at how he could shut the door of any hope the woman had towards him by making it clear that he wasn't interested. "I think it would, too. She deserves the world." 

"I think we've found the perfect one?" Eva suggested, taking another look to satisfy her curiosity. 

"I think so," Simon nodded. "I want this one." 

"Okay," She smiled, forcing her jealousy from her mind by keeping her gaze towards the floor to keep from looking at him. "If you'll just follow me over here, I'll get your paperwork started." 

"Didn't think it was so complicated." 

The clerk giggled, "This must be your first time." 

"And my last." 

"Well, this is Tiffany & Co. We're proud of our products," She smiled, motioning for both Simon and Eva to follow her to the office, grasping a mint-colored felt box to hold the ring as well as a decorative and rather lavish bag to put it in after she entered the style number into her computer. "Alright, I'll need a valid I.D. and current address." 

Simon huffed as he removed his wallet from his back pocket, setting his I.D. on the desk, watching how her eyes widened after she had realized he wasn't from the States. And he's British? How'd she get so lucky but yet I'm here trying to steal fiancés? She scoffed to herself. "Is this still your current address?" 

"It won't be, but for now, yes." 

"I'm sorry," She chuckled embarrassingly. "I can't read it. It looks scratched out. What's the street address?" 

"60 Oxford Street, Manchester M1 5EE, United Kingdom." He answered. 

"Apartment number?" 

"262." 

"Thank you. Phone number?" 

"(307) 555-9624." 

"Payment method?" 

"Whatever is easiest." He sighed. 

"I always advise a check for an amount such as this." 

Eva expected Simon's brows to raise in nervousness, but he was dead serious, intentionally not caring how much he was about to spend. She's worth it. 

"Then a check it is." 

He nodded, removing one of many blank checks he tucked away in his wallet. Only ever having to use a check once, he had hoped it would be accepted considering his main branch of bank was based in the United Kingdom. However, he had already gone through the grueling headache of transferring nearly 50% of his funds into American dollars to be able to spend without fail. 

He glanced over at Eva as the clerk continued typing into her computer, reaching over to remove a print-out of the sales invoice as well as the acceptance of the terms and conditions of the transaction. Simon Riley, the clerk sighed. Such a strong name for a strong man. He signed the dotted line before writing the amount of the ring on his check, finding no issue in dropping the grand total of $14,163.12 for the diamond ring. "That's like you're buying a small car." Eva giggled. 

"Cars are that cheap?" He chuckled, leaning back in his chair after sliding the check over the desk. 

"Used ones." The clerk added. I didn't fucking ask for your input, lass.

"I'll let her pick out the wedding ring." He said to Eva. 

"Oh, I think she'll like this one so much she wouldn't want to take it off." 

"She'll still need a band, yeah?" 

Eva nodded, presenting her wedding ring set on her left finger, letting him look at it. Her finger complimented the gold band and gold diamond ring on her finger. Lavish, he thought as he looked at it. "We got this band last year when we renewed our vows." 

"It's lovely. Her father has classy taste." 

"I was surprised," Eva teased, nudging his elbow playfully - just like how Kiera would. It made him smirk, coming to enjoy spending time with her mother. "Bud can have a heart when he wants to." 

"Alright, you're all set! It might take a couple of days for it to show up in your account, but it cleared on my end." The clerk said, taking the tag off of the ring and putting the ring in the iconic "Tiffany Blue" felt box and putting it in the bag as well as a care guide. "This ring does come with a lifetime service. So if she needs it to be resized, cleaned, or tightened, just bring it here and it's complimentary." 

"I'd sure hope so if it was that much." 

The clerk huffed, "Yeah, which I'm sure she'll have to bring it by to have it cleaned if she wears it every day or does strenuous work. She won't have to pay anything upfront." Or if she gains weight, her 'little fingers' will get fat again.

He reached for the bag on the table after he stood to his feet, nodding at her as he offered his hand to Eva, helping the older woman stand to her aching feet as he escorted her out of the office and towards the entrance of the store. "That woman had her eyes on you." Eva giggled. 

"I noticed," Simon scoffed. "The feeling wasn't mutual." 

"I noticed that. Don't bring Kiera in here, she won't be happy." 

"I just might so I can watch her scold that woman." 

Eva laughed, "Would it be shameful if I thought about that too? As much as I hate seeing how mean my daughter can get, she has a mean streak as wide as the valley." 

"That much is true," Simon nodded, chuckling. "But she's calmed down a lot since we got back." 

"I'm glad she has. I don't like seeing her angry. Although I hate the circumstances involved." She frowned, remembering the pain she had to see her daughter in after the Chicago explosion. 

"You won't have to worry about that anymore," Simon assured her, opening the door for her once they reached her SUV, finding himself being just as protective over her mother just as much as he was Kiera. She's just too precious for this world, he thought, recalling the same thoughts he had towards his mother. 

He sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, putting the bag containing the ring between his knees before Eva put the car in gear. "You hungry?" 

"I can wait until I'm home." 

"That's not what I asked, honey." Eva giggled. 

"If that's the case, I can eat if food was offered." 

"That's better. I'll buy your lunch since you blew so much money on my daughter." She teased. 

"Madame, when it comes to your daughter, no amount of money phases me." He chuckled. 

Eva didn't know what to say. Instead, she blushed and giggled, immensely happy for her daughter to have found such a good man. She deserves it so much. I don't think I could get much happier for her. My heart is so full. 

"So, what're you hungry for? Drive-thru or sit-down restaurant?" 

"I'm not opposed to either." Simon shrugged. 

"Well, if I had to choose, I don't like to eat from a drive-thru." 

"So a sit-down restaurant it is."

[goldenlionprince]

teach me your ways (Prongsfoot, 1.6k words)

[AO3]

James stumbles through the common room party. People clap him on the back and shout congratulations for his victory against Ravenclaw but James barely hears them, his insides all squirmy and weird.

He's pretty sure it shouldn't feel like that.

He manages to reach the couches in front of the fireplace where his friends are sitting, sipping butterbeer that is probably a little spiked. He's not sure how he did that, getting all the way here. He's still a bit in a daze, his ears ringing strangely. He ignores Peter's enthusiastic cheer at seeing him and Remus' smile and tugs at Sirius' sleeve, almost a little too roughly. “I need to talk to you.”

Sirius frowns at him but gets up immediately without any questions. James is intensely grateful for that. He waits for Sirius to set down his cup on the side table before he grabs his arm and pulls him along, through the room and out though the portrait hole.

He ignores everyone else. There's only one person he needs right now.

The corridor outside the common room is a lot quieter and cooler once the portrait falls shut behind them. It's like a breath of fresh air, something James desperately needs. The ringing in his ears slowly fades in the sudden silence.

Taking a deep breath James continues on, pulling Sirius along down the right side of the corridor and around the corner to the first broom closet he can find. He opens the door and shoves Sirius inside before following in and closing the door behind them. With a sigh James falls back against the closed door and stares at the mop in the corner, his mind still a jumbled mess.

“Are you okay?” Sirius asks after a moment of complete silence, after James has taken a few deep breathes that taste a little like lemon cleaner. He tries to catch James' eye in the dimly lit closet, the only light coming through the cracks of the door and from a magic light that's hidden somewhere behind a mess of cleaning supplies and has seen better, brighter days once upon a time. “What happened?”

“I - “ James starts but cuts off again. Sirius' frown deepens. James clears his throat before he tries to start over. “I … just kissed Emmilinda and I think it was horrible.”

Sirius stares at him, then nods while trying to fight a grin. “Okay. Why was it horrible?”

“I think I nearly took her eye out.”

There is a moment of silence where James can see Sirius fighting the laughter that crawls up his throat. James' eyes narrow. Sirius ultimately loses his fight. He bursts into laughter, the sound echoing in the small room. “How did you manage that?”

James shrugs his shoulders helplessly. “With my nose. Or maybe my glasses. I'm not entirely sure.”

Sirius keeps laughing, the absolute jerk. James punches his shoulder. Sirius takes a step back out of his reach. “Stop laughing, you git. Like you could do any better.”

“No one has complained about taken out eyes to me yet, at least,” Sirius snickers, trying and failing to get his laughter back under control. “So I would dare to say that I can indeed do better.”

James glares at him. “Well then, show me.”

Sirius nearly chokes on his laugh. Serves him right, the bloody wanker. “What?”

“Show me,” James repeats, trying and failing to ignore the return of the squirmy feeling in his stomach. “If you're so great at it, teach me your ways and show me.”

Sirius blinks at him like an owl. James huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “This the best you've got? Because in that case I think my eye stabbing is much more impressive. At least something is happening other than staring.”

Sirius shakes his head like the dog he is and huffs a laugh. “You really mean it.”

“Am I speaking Parseltongue all of a sudden? Of course I mean it.” James choses to ignore the flush he can feel on his face. The broom closet is barely lit at all, Sirius won't see it. “Unless you want to admit right now that you're a pompous ass and beg for my forgiveness for laughing at me.”

“So you want your ego stroked.” Sirius comes closer, stepping over a broken broom handle and an upturned bucket all graceful and casual, like it's a dance only he knows the steps to. James keeps his eyes on him. It's really unfair, the way he can move without looking like an overgrown gangly teenager, even if he's taller than all of them.

“What I want,” James says and stabs a finger into Sirius' chest because now he's close enough for that, his own fault really. “Is for my best friend to not make fun of me and tell me why my fist kiss went so horribly wrong.”

“Or show you how to do it better.”

James swallows hard, his eyes darting down to Sirius' lips for a brief moment. “Or that.”

“Well then,” Sirius says and did his voice just drop a little lower? James is pretty sure he's not imagining it or the tingle it sends down his spine. Sirius takes another step closer, crowding James against the closed door, and James drops his arms.

They just look at each other for a moment, James trying to read the expression on Sirius' face in the dim light and failing. He can feel the heat of Sirius' body so close to his own. His breath smells like butterbeer with a hint of firewhiskey, so James was right about the spiked drinks earlier. He wonders if Sirius will taste like it too.

His mouth goes dry at the thought and his heart feels like it's galloping right out of his chest.

“Come here.” Sirius' voice is a soft murmur, nothing more, and James shivers but he can't tell if it's the effect of Sirius' voice on him or if it's because of his fingertips that brush along James' cheeks and then slowly remove his glasses. James blinks against the blur of the world, but it doesn't make much difference in the low light of the broom closet.

“Not gonna take any chances,” Sirius teases, taking James' hand and pressing the folded up glasses into it. “I like my eyes.”

James can't help the giggle that escapes him. He feels a little drunk, even if he didn't have a drop to drink tonight.

His giggle dissolves into a rush of air when he feels Sirius' fingers back on his face. They tilt his chin up, a soft caress. James doesn't know what to do with his own hands. He shoves his glasses into the pocket of the Quidditch uniform he's still wearing. His eyes never leave Sirius', even when he goes a little cross-eyed when Sirius leans even closer, the tip of his nose brushing softly against James'.

James is nearly vibrating out of his skin in anticipation of what is to come.

And then there it is, a soft brush of lips against his own, a teasing little thing. James very nearly whimpers. It's barely there, almost feels imagined, and James wonders if that's all, if this is all Sirius is willing to do, but then his lips are back against James' and James forgets how to think.

The pressure against his lips is just right, a warm feeling that makes him a little dizzy. A parting with a rush of breath, a soft sigh, an almost moan, only to meet again a moment later.

James sighs into the kiss, relishing in the feeling of Sirius' fingers slipping into his hair, his own hands coming up without thought to tangle in the front of Sirius' shirt. To pull him closer or keep him there, James isn't sure but settles for both.

There is a nip on his bottom lip, a sharp little pain that sends bolts of lightning though James' whole body, making him shiver as a soothing tongue follows, slipping between his parted lips, and there it is, the sweetness of butterbier with a little spicy hint of firewhiskey.

After Emmilinda kissed him, too much force and too much tongue, James really didn't understand why people thought kissing was so great. Why snogging was even a thing people liked to do. But this? James could do this for hours, this push and pull, almost a dance. His heart might give out eventually though but wouldn't it be a great way to go?

Almost as if he had heard James' thought Sirius pulls back slowly, saving James' life from a possible heart attack. James isn't sure if it's a blessing or a curse. Blinking his eyes open he looks at Sirius, unsure of when he closed them in the first place.

“Not bad for a first kiss, hm?” Sirius says, his voice a little rough, brushing a curl away from James' temple. James' knees go a little weak at that soft touch alone.

“Well, technically it's my second,” James says with a little chuckle, his fingers still tangled in the fabric of Sirius' shirt. He's not ready to let go. Probably never will be now.

Sirius grins at him, the sight of it causing James' stomach to do a little somersault. “Well, I wasn't talking about you.”

It takes a moment for James' oxygen deprived brain to catch up with the meaning of Sirius' words. “What?” he squeaks once the knut drops, shoving Sirius back so he nearly stumbles and falls over the broken broom handle on the floor.

Sirius laughs at him again and James would be very offended if he wouldn't know now of a very effective way to make him shut up.

And he's going to do just that.

[slippinmickeys]

The Unseelie Court (9/16)

Scully sat in her car with the key still in the ignition, though she’d cut the engine when she pulled into her parking spot. Anxiety sat low in her gut like a weighted ball of putty. She felt other things too, including a listlessness that was hard to overcome. 

She’d left the office at the end of the day after a long afternoon of silence with occasional bursts of Mulder asking if she was okay, if she wanted to talk. With a request for space thrown over her shoulder, she’d hustled out of the office without meeting his eye and was now sitting in the small garage of her building dreading facing the emptiness and quiet of her apartment where she’d have nothing but time and space to think. 

As she reached for the car door handle, her phone rang. 

Expecting Mulder, she looked at the display with surprise and apprehension. It was a call from Adrian County. She clicked on with a truncated, if professional greeting. 

“Agent Scully, hi. This is Deputy Avery down in Adrian County.”

“What can I do for you, Deputy?” She tipped herself out of her car and slung her bag over her shoulder, tilting the phone to her ear as she approached the elevator and pressed the call button. 

“I wanted to let you know,” Avery said. “We’re closing the Daly Carmichael case.”

“That’s surprising,” she said. There was a crackle of static as she stepped through the elevator doors. 

“With no definitive cause of death, there’s not really any evidence of a crime.”

“I know basic labs didn’t show anything, but I’m still waiting on the full toxicology blood work from Richmond.”

“I mentioned that. I also brought up some of the more…” he paused, searching for the right words. “Well, the weird shit you and I saw at the Carmichael Estate. Despite all that, the Sheriff is shutting the investigation down. I don’t think I’m the only one involved that thinks that’s the wrong call, but it isn’t mine to make. Anyway. I wanted to let you know.”

The beige of the hallway outside her apartment went gray and back to beige with the flickering of an overhead light. 

“I appreciate that, Deputy.” Any other day, she might have put up a fight. 

“And listen,” she could hear the rustle of clothing through the line as the deputy likely moved his phone to his other ear. “If you’re ever back in Adrian County…or even if you’re not…call me. I’d like to pick your brain and…I don’t know, maybe take you out some time.”

So, not all the way gay then, Scully thought vaguely, pulling out her key ring. It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked out by a local after a field investigation. 

“I’m afraid my life doesn’t seem to be conducive to relationships at present, Deputy Avery,” she said, thinking of Mulder. 

“Ah,” Avery said, and she could hear his grin through the phone line, “can’t blame a guy for trying.” 

Scully hung up and opened her door, stepped through into the empty silence. 

***

Mulder lay drowsily on the couch still dressed in his work clothes, unable to face the prospect of spending a night in sheets that still smelled like Scully without her in them. Though he had removed his jacket and tie, he didn’t have the energy to do much more than kick off his shoes when he got home. 

He was determined to respect the boundaries she’d hastily set when she left the office, though he half-hoped his phone would ring. He was still considering what to order for dinner when a wave of exhaustion swept over him. Rather than fight it, he let his eyelids meet, drifting off to sleep being a better option than sitting around worrying about Scully worrying.

Almost immediately, he found himself in the glade again—the fairy hollow from the beach—fully aware that he was dreaming. In front of him was the willow tree with the broken crown slashed into its bark, but there was someone on the other side of the tree—a presence he could feel but couldn’t see. At his feet were a small pile of coins, wild faces on front and back. 

He took a step to walk around the tree, but then so did the person on the other side. And then he caught a whiff of her scent.

“Scully?” he called out.

Another step, and this time he caught a glimpse of her before she took another step around the tree, away from him. 

“Scully, wait.” 

One more step and suddenly from his other side, she was there, directly before him. She wore not a stitch of clothing, though on her head sat a crooked tiara. Her eyes, when she raised them to meet his, were two different colors. 

He woke up with a start, a burning pain on his chest once again that he wondered vaguely about until he heard the knocking on his door. The sensation had faded by the time he had tripped over to it and fully roused to consciousness. 

Scully stood in the hallway, still in her own work clothes, looking vaguely nauseous.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes flitting briefly down to hers, ensuring himself they were both still Sargasso blue. 

“Can we talk?” she said, and he nodded, lifting his arm so she could walk under it. 

A talk. The dream had filled him with unease, but now he was downright edgy. He’d been girding his loins for this moment from the first time she’d invited him to her bed, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. It didn’t mean he was going to make it easy.

She took a few steps into the room, but didn’t attempt to sit or get comfortable, instead choosing to hover, eyeing him like she didn’t want him to get too close. Like if he got close, she couldn’t do what she was about to do. 

He’d already had an argument with her in his head about how they were grown ups and how it wasn’t like they’d tripped and fallen into each other. They’d chosen to start sleeping together, soberly, perhaps not without reservations, but without pretense. He was fully prepared to tell her that he wanted this, wanted more than this if she did, but that he’d take whatever his pathetic heart could get. 

So it was something of a surprise when she walked forward and pressed herself into him, her arms wrapping around him and holding him tight. After only a moment, his arms came around her, too. 

“Is this…are we…talking?” 

“No,” she said, her voice muffled from where she was pressed into him. “I thought I needed you to talk me out of this…feeling I have right now, but I think I just need you to hold me.”

He squeezed her more tightly and rubbed his hand over the soft material of her blouse, his fingers skimming over her piano key ribs. “I can do that.”

After a minute, she pulled back to look in his eyes. “Thank you,” she said, and shook her head like she was fighting off a sneeze. “God, this day has been…”

She stepped away from him, a restless energy radiating off of her. Finally she looked at him, really looked at him. 

“Mulder, you look like you have indigestion.” 

“This day has been weird for me too,” he said defensively, thinking of his search for information on Aeon Greene, the whole thing with Skinner’s assistant, his dream. “And honestly, I thought you were about to break up with me.” 

“I didn’t realize we were going steady.”

“You know what I mean. Stop being prickly.”

“I’m sorry,” she said graciously. “Today with Arlene was…Jesus Christ, so embarrassing. I wanted to sink through the floor the whole afternoon. But I realized tonight after a not-great dream that I’m so sick of being… I know what people say. About us. But after years of living and projecting virtuous hauteur, who actually gives a damn if they’re right? I half think we should just declare our relationship to Skinner and let him sort it out. It’s not like you’re my superior.”

“You had a dream?” he said, a tumbleweed of intrigue cartwheeling through his mind.

“I just told you I want to come out to our boss and you’re asking about my dream?”

“I am, yeah.”

“I fell asleep on the couch,” she shrugged, misunderstanding what he was asking.

“Tell me about what happened in it,” he said, remembering his own dream; the tree, the tiara. Eyes that were hers but weren’t.

“I was in the grove,” she said. “The one from the Carmichael Estate, I think. You were there too, but you were hiding from me.” A chill ran up Mulder’s spine. “When you finally showed yourself to me, you had this symbol burned into your chest, like a…like a brand,” she went on. “And your eyes. They were heterochromatic, like our victim’s. It was…unsettling.”

“If you think that was unsettling…” Mulder said, fixing her with a look. “I had the same dream.”

“What?” 

“Tonight. Just now. I had fallen asleep on the couch.”

Scully took a few more steps into his apartment. 

“There were a few minor differences, but…same dream.” Mulder rubbed his hand over his chest where he’d felt the burning sensation. 

“It’s not unusual to have dreams of a similar nature when you spend a lot of time with someone,” she started, “especially when we were just—”

She was trying rationalize the supernatural. Of course she was.

“Scully, I swear to God—”

She stopped talking and gave him a long look, and then wilted with apprehensive capitulation. 

“But fairies? Really?” She was practically whining, but he was so elated not to have to fight her, he gave an inch.

“Some kind of hibernian or Celtic-based magic at the very least.”

She slouched and shuffled over to his couch, suddenly exhausted. He was tempted to join her, maybe rub her feet, offer up a massage that could lead to something more, but he was suddenly wired. The symbol on the tree, the broken crown, intrigued him. 

He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. She looked depleted. Emotionally done in. 

“I’m going to hop on the computer for a while,” he said, reaching up and grabbing the Aztec blanket, laying it over her lap. “Why don’t you, you know, pretend not to sleep.”

“Mulder, they closed the case,” she said, slumping back against the pillows.

He straightened, his energy flagging a little. 

“They what?” 

“Adrian County. They closed the case. Deputy Avery called me this evening.” Her eyes were droopy. 

He considered this for a moment. “Well, we could open a new one. Make it federal.”

Scully looked skeptical, but didn’t put up a fight, and he smiled at her one more time then slid into his desk chair and fired up his computer. 

[rolandkaros]

some thoughts on doping

people (fans, players, etc.) who complain about special treatment for top players need to deep the fact that the qualms they have with the way that jannik and iga's cases were treated are barely related to the actual cases at hand and more to do with the fact that they believe others have been hard done by harsher treatment. which is an important complaint to verbalize, but directing that frustration at the players you believe are getting "special treatment" is part of what allows that unfairness to continue, because nobody is calling out the root of the problem which comes directly from the organizations in charge of actually managing these cases.

inevitably world #1s will have the money, resources, team, etc. to find the source of the positive test, to justify themselves, to prove their innocence, etc. and while i completely understand the frustration that not everyone has those resources i also don't believe there's any reason for somebody to not use such resources if they have them at their disposal.

so yes, i think it's fair to push for more player support within the realm of doping, but acting as though jannik or iga have done something wrong for utilizing the tools they had is kind of comical to me.

and there's the other side of the coin, wherein these people truly believe these associations are actively covering for guilty players. which brings me to another important point that a complete disbelief in the integrity of the system does absolutely nothing unless it is acted upon. which is to say, if you truly believe that jannik and iga were guilty of doping and the "special treatment" you mention is implying that the atp or wta or itia or wada covered for them, that is a very serious accusation which undermines the integrity of the sport of tennis as a whole. that may sound melodramatic, but i truly think that if you believe these associations are corrupt when it comes to doping (as proposals of "special treatment" in the case of guilt would suggest), i believe you are obligated to advocate against it in a much more substantial way than posting about it on social media. it would be concerning to me if people truly had zero trust for the integrity of organizations like wada and the itia, but continued to consume the sport without raising a question...until a player they don't like gets a positive test.

in all honestly, i don't like how either of the cases were handled. i have problems with both. but i also know that in both cases, they were cleared with no significant fault or negligence as the final verdict (i know wada stepped in with jannik but that's still up in the air so for now i'm disregarding that). i have no reason (or desire) to believe either of them intentionally doped. i do think the main reason they were able to "wrap-up" their cases as quickly and efficiently as they did was due in part to their statuses as top level players. but i don't believe that the verdict was subjectively dependent on it. and i can disagree with how the cases were handled, AND i can say that i think all players deserve better treatment in these processes, AND i can still maintain that i trust the verdict of both cases.

shifting focus slightly, i do think there's a reality where organizations like the atp and wta are self-serving. and it sounds really harsh and unsympathetic, but it also makes sense. the atp and wta have responsibilities as associations to promote tennis, to protect it not only as a sport but also as a brand. the atp spent the entire first half of this year basically promoting jannik as the second coming of christ: obviously they're going to shit their pants when they find out about a positive doping test. it's in their best interest to do everything they can to preserve their own image, to only release such information if they had been completely sure of his guilt. and likewise, it was in their best interest to keep that information quiet even once his innocence was ruled. i'll say myself: it didn't feel right to me that it was kept quiet as long as it was. i do think that, once a case has been handled, it should still be released as public information. but i understand why the atp didn't want to release the information, and i understand why they might not care as much if it was someone ranked outside the top 100 or someone who's never won a tour-level tournament. like i said, it sounds harsh and unsympathetic, but that's business. i don't think it's just but i do think it makes sense.

iga getting a split ban is another example of this. granted, i don't know exactly who decides how punishments are implemented, so it's possible that the wta had no involvement this, but i don't think it was coincidental that the split ban allowed her to play at the finals and bjkc. it makes sense for the wta as a brand and an organization to advocate for her to be able to play those events. [VERY IMPORTANT EDIT: not going to delete what i already said for the sake of transparency, but i've been told that this actually was completely coincidental. a player can return to tour after a provisional suspension as soon as they submit an appeal. so iga was suspended, submitted the appeal, returned to play the finals & bjkc, and then was given a one month ban. the provisional suspension also counted towards the ban.] equally, it makes sense for them to release a statement supporting her, even though they are meant to be unbiased.

so it's not fair. it's not just. but it's not a problem with the integrity of the players, it's a problem with whole procedure. but i think too many people are quick to jump at players like iga and jannik, who yes, got off pretty easy, over something which ultimately has very little to do with them. they showcase the symptoms of underlying problems, but they are not the cause of those problems themselves. and people who rush to blame them need to either evaluate the true source and target of that anger, or they need to have a very real conversation about their trust in organizations such as wada and the itia which truly are meant to be just and fair, without awarding that same trust to organizations like the atp and wta whose concerns are far less objective.

[mornyavie]

As I sit here yet again watching the slow-motion train crash of someone bad at organizing organize something, I will offer my unsolicited advice to tumbler instead:

You know that joke about how no one can get together ever? Your TTRPG group lasts a month, your friends' next meetup is in a year and a half, your book club took a week off and immediately fell apart?

Two points that help immensely:

1.

No open-ended questions. Don't walk up to someone or pull up the group chat and ask "when can we meet?"

No one knows how to answer that!

Instead make your own decision, ask, and refine. Ask "can we get together Tuesday evening" or "hey are people free this Friday or Saturday?" or "what about Sunday at 11am?" Then they have a clear yes/no question to respond to, and if the answers are all "no" you can choose a different day/date and try again.

Brought to you by someone asking 9 people "when can we meet this month?" Are you expecting a detailed month-long calendar from nine people to be sent to the group chat? You get crickets and "well I can do wednesdays I guess" because that's far too large a time frame for anyone to provide a decision.

2.

Some people can't come. That's ok. If there's four of you, three can meet up sometimes. It's fine. Try to keep track of whether you're always excluding the same person (even if they're the really busy one), but perfect is the enemy of good, and seeing groups of your friends is better than endlessly waiting until you can meet all of them.

The aforementioned nine people are almost never going to be in the same spot at once, and if you hold out for that magic day it'll never happen. You aren't being mean to someone by choosing a time they can't come; just make sure that they know you miss them, and that they get to come next time.

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes interpreting media through a shipping lens enhances it, on occasion even beyond the author’s original intent, but sometimes, you do have to accept that your ship was not in the heads of anyone making the source material and trying to force it to fit into evidence of your ship will severely hinder your ability to discuss the actual text.

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Okay I thought I was done but apparently I'm not. I need to talk more about this banter you can get during the Legacy DLC between Aveline and Warden Carver because it makes me want to scream.

Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens. Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do. Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you. Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I? Aveline: Well...

In my last post, I talked about how Aveline had no place telling the guard to refuse Carver's application, regardless of if he was "right" for the job or not. But I believe he would've made a great guard, and getting that job not only would've provided for him and his family during a desperate time, but would've prevented him from either fate of becoming a warden or a templar. He was unfairly robbed of a chance to prove himself because Aveline believed he wasn't right for the guard.

This is one of the banters I brought up but didn't go too in depth about. At this point, it's been between 3-6 years since Act 1, depending on if you decided to do Legacy in Act 2 or Act 3, and every line here is important.

Carver's response to Aveline saying she's glad he "found a place" with the wardens is so telling. Not being accepted by the guard is still on his mind after all this time. He wouldn't bring it up if it didn't still bother him, and implies that he still would've preferred the guard over the wardens.

Which... yeah. Listen, I'm a dedicated "Carver joins the Grey Warden" player. I don't like leaving him behind to become a templar, and I certainly don't like him dying. For me, the Grey Wardens are the best outcome he has. It’s where he seems the happiest and finds the most fulfilment, and it fits well with how I play my Hawke. But it obviously has some tragic issues.

Like the fact that becoming a Grey Warden only delayed his inevitable death within the Deep Roads. Eventually his Calling will come, and Carver will go back down there and fight until the darkspawn eventually kill him. I'm sure that's not traumatic to think about given he was a soldier at Ostagar and then watched Bethany die at the hands of an ogre. Oh, and there's the whole nightmares and voices thing.

Carver didn't choose this life for himself. It was either this or death, but a "what if?" still lingers in his mind about the city guard.

Something Aveline ruined for him.

And continues to ruin.

Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you.

You hear that? In the distance? That's me screaming.

I must reiterate; what makes Aveline believe it's her place to tell Carver whether or not the city guard was right for him? Why did she think she should get a say in whether or not the guard takes him? What's made it HER call?

And still, after all this time has passed, she believes it wasn't right for him and she's unwilling to consider otherwise. Maker forbid she do some reflection and question if she was in the right for interfering at all, too!

Carver is standing right there before her, proving everything she said about him wrong, and she just doubles down. There's no reason to say this to him unless she's trying to remind him of his place; he's a Grey Warden, and she's Guard-Captain of Kirkwall's city guard. But c'mon, Aveline, he's hardly a threat to your precious guard anymore given the whole dedication to killing darkspawn thing he has now.

Maybe if you paid more attention to the threats within your guard, Kirkwall would be a safer place with less murder going around? Just saying!

But isn't that how it's always been? Aveline putting him in his place, making sure Carver remembers she's always outranked him?

Carver: Did you approve my application? Aveline: I can't make you a guard, Carver. Carver: We were both soldiers. Why won't they take me? Aveline: I was an officer. And I follow orders. Carver: [laughs] No you don't. Aveline: I also think of others before myself. You seem tired of that, and that's dangerous. Carver: Just when it's not my choice. You told them not to take me, didn't you? Aveline: Yes.

That he should remember who he's talking to?

Carver: I'm surprised you still travel with us, Aveline. Aveline: Carver, don't. Carver: You're ever so busy with the guardsmen. It must be a burden to slum with the refugees. Aveline: It's oddly comforting that you insult me like I'm family. Carver: That wasn't... no, I didn't mean that. Aveline: I know. But you should be glad that's how I took it.

That she's in charge?

Aveline: Your form's sloppy, Carver. Stiffen up or the darkspawn will take your blade. Carver: Right. I'll keep that in mind. Aveline: And you're angry, why? Carver: You didn't fare any better than I did the last time we faced darkspawn. Aveline: If they take your blade, people die. That's not happening again. Stiffen up. Carver: Yes ma'am.

Oh, and she used to spy on him [and Hawke].

Aveline: I don't like some of the people you've been associating with, Carver. Carver: Talk to my brother/sister. He/She's the one in charge. Aveline:  Maybe, but I know you get around. This city's full of people who are dead set on ending badly. I don't want to see you end up the same way. Carver: Would asking you to stop spying on me help in the least? Aveline: No.

That's their banter.

But sure, she's glad he found a place in the wardens. I don't think she's being ingenuine when she says that, but I think it's a little more complicated than a mere "congrats on doing well, I knew you could do it."

But Carver's response? Oh Maker's ass. It actually hurts me.

Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I? Aveline: Well...

I... what can I even say?

He accepts it, but you can tell it hurts to do so. It DID cost a lot. More than Aveline will ever understand. And it doesn't matter now! He can't become a guard now anyway, so what would be the point in him disagreeing with her? Carver acts as the bigger person here because he does get it, even if Aveline doesn't.

But it's that last part... that last damn part... Don't be alarmed, that screaming you hear is still me.

Here's the deal; Carver acknowledges that he could be an ass back in Act 1. Hell, he acknowledges it IN Act 1. For example, when you talk to him after finding your grandfather's will, he's an ass to you about Bethany no matter what you say.

But y'know what? You can be the biggest piece of shit to him and have Hawke literally call him a "lazy brat with a chip on his shoulder," and Carver will still be the one to be apologetic for what he said and attempt to explain his feelings.

"Brother/Sister... I feel... I don't know. It's like Mother taking things out on us. She was just scared. I don't have a place in the life she's trying to bring back…"

Carver can be an ass, but he's aware of that and actively tries to change his behavior. If you bring him and Fenris with you on the Mark of the Assassin DLC, there's a moment where Carver says, "You still don't like me? I've tried to change." And if you bring Varric, he once again acknowledges that he used to be an ass.

BUT... that being said. If you don't remember, "I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I?" is referencing back to this conversation in the barracks of Act 1:

Hawke: This must be a very different pace from serving King Cailan. Aveline: It's just one more change, though. The real end for me was Ostagar. What about you Carver? You were there. Do you feel something similar? Carver: No. Aveline: All right, then. Bit of a tit, your brother.

Now, I've already expressed my beef with Aveline over insulting Carver in the middle of the barracks just because he doesn't agree with her view point on Ostagar... but consider the fact that Carver says nothing. He just lets her insult him without a complaint! Carver Hawke, who tends to complain! And he says nothing!

Not only that, but he actually internalized that insult enough that years later he's able to repeat it back to Aveline word for word, and all she has to say is, "Well..."

This isn't the same thing as him reflecting on his past behavior and acknowledging his flaws. This is Carver accepting a snide jab Aveline made that hurt him because apparently he was wrong for not wanting to discuss any trauma Ostagar left him with as openly as she does.

Oh, and don't forget that any other companion you brought along dogpiles on, too!

Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I? Aveline: Well... Varric: No shit. Fenris: Insufferable. Isabela: Legendary. Anders: Maker, yes. Sebastian: I've heard as much. [If Hawke has a humorous/charming personality] Hawke: Spoiled, annoying, thick-headed, brattish little nitwit of a... oh, have we stopped?

Y'all ever wonder why he's so on edge or hostile with the other companions?

Also, I have to point out that Merrill is the only companion who doesn't say anything in agreement if she's there. In fact, across all their banter, Merrill's never been rude or insulting toward him. All she does is ask him if he's talking dirty to her and compliments him on what a great sworder he is. It's pretty obvious why Carver develops a crush on her, c'mon.

But to wrap this up-

This banter strikes a nerve due to how telling it is about both characters involved.

Carver has grown and done what he can to improve himself, but there's regret that lingers, a longing for a better life he could've had if given a chance. Maybe he would've failed, maybe he would've succeeded. But there's nothing he can do now, so he looks forward, just as he's always wanted to do. He's a damn good Grey Warden who wants to do right.

Aveline remains stagnant. She hasn't changed, nor has she improved, and maybe she would if she could figure out how to dislodge her head from her own ass. She still believes she was in the right to tell the guard not to accept Carver's application despite knowing the Hawke's were desperate and that Fereldan refugees couldn't find work. She knew Carver's a skilled soldier who fought at Ostagar just as she did. The guard wasn't the place for him so she's in the right to deny him any chance. Aveline knows best.

And y'know what, I think all I have left to say is...

Fine, Aveline. You're right. It wasn't the place for him.

Carver was too good for your city guard.

[skrunksthatwunk]

have just been introduced to a kitten named rascal who lives on my floor and whose babysitters (who are not his owner?) were trying Really hard to goad me into adopting which like. he's a little baby and he's so so so silly and he barely even bit me but like also. this cat isn't yours???? anyway if the owner's giving him up then I might finally have a cat which like AHHHHHG

[kindnessoverperfection]

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

[sea-buns]

there's this baby kitty in my neighborhood whose tail has been injured and as far as we know doesn't have any owners. we finally got her trusting enough to come up on the front porch and sleep, but the rush of power at being on higher ground must have gone to her head cuz she has since completely ignored us for 3 days while she stalks her terrorizer so hard he waits at her feet in fear of her weirdness. well i think the bout of ghosting us when we call for food time might be over cuz this morning there was a bird next to the front mat and she was screaming for sustenance. the thing is, earlier in the morning she was out there yelling but we didn't have time to feed her then. and we only saw the bird when we came back about an hour later so. either it was already there and we missed it or she said 'oh no food? i can trade u want trade? we share?' and ran to go find an offering. but also the bird she brought isn't one we really get at our feeders so this skinny little paperweight of a cat ran a fair distance somewhere and carried this bird that's the size of her head, if not bigger, back uphill, upstairs, through a patio gate, and gently lined it up next to the mat. not even on the mat. it was perfectly parallel but out of the way of where we walk. i maybe should have been more horrified than i was but frankly i've been missing her and i am flattered by the sentiment.

[shiroselia]

While I am glad that they didn’t, as someone who generally still enjoys pre-mouth rig gen 3, I still cannot for the life of me fathom why the god damn hell SSE didn’t split off the generations with the jorvik wild and just bit the bullet on either the mouth-rigs being gen 4 or atleast 3.5

Not even just for the pedantic shit they’d have so much fucking logistics fixed by it it’s actually insanity that the connemara and the... any horse after like the Finnhorse is allowed to be considered “the same generation of model quality”

[tonycries]

Love Thy D!LF - T.F.

Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)

A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.

Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.

Your neighbor was a tease.

Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…

Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot. 

Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way. 

What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.

Bzzt–!

Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.

Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3

Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything. 

You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door. 

Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.

And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.

“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily. 

Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down- 

It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.

Especially around you. 

In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp. 

You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”

He knew what he was doing. 

God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet. 

“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”

He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.

A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”

“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.” 

“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”

Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-

“He’s lying.”

Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to. 

“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”

“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”

“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside. 

“Just tell her!”

“I’m taking your iPad time away!”

It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…

“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”

You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”

“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”

“Yeah but-”

“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”

“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”

He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”

And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”

He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”

The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow. 

And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips. 

“Smooth, dad.”

“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”

Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.

And then, he sees it. 

Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry. 

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later. 

With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-

“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…

But this?

Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear. 

All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.

“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”

And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter. 

He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence. 

But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?

Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was. 

Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning. 

And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.

Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.

So cute.

“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.

“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”

And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.

“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”

His phone clatters! to the ground.

Did you just say…his name?

“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest. 

Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder. 

“Toji—!”

Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-

Toji feels pathetic. 

Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-

Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft. 

“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”

The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.

For anything.

“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”

Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please- 

Ah, his prayers are answered.

Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”

“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”

And could you read his mind?

Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.

Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure. 

The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-

“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”

He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples. 

Burning.

And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”

Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard. 

So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice. 

It was agonizing. 

And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.

SLAM!

“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-

“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”

He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit. 

“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.

“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”

That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-

“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”

Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?

Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes. 

Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.

“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”

“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”

He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high. 

Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before. 

And it makes him cum 

It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.

“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty. 

Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin. 

“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”

Bzzt–! 

From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.

Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?

---

“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”

You weren’t listening.

You couldn’t.

Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.

You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass. 

But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside. 

No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…

And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy. 

Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-

“-doll? Doll.”

“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”

“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”

Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”

“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”

“Wh-wha- where did you get that?” 

Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over. 

Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro. 

He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”

“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible. 

“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”

He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke. 

You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”

“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”

You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. 

You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he. 

“...I heard you, too, y’know.”

Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips. 

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”

Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”

“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”

Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”

Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”

.

.

.

“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”

But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already. 

Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.

And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk. 

All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.

Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”

And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”

He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat. 

His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”

“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”

Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.

Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick. 

“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”

“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”

“Tell me exactly  what you want, doll.”

So bossy, you want to snap back. 

But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”

And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss. 

He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans. 

Sweet.

So sweet.

“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”

Proposing and proposing and kissing-

He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking. 

You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”

It already was. 

But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up. 

Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji–”

“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”

Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”

Toji didn’t expect an answer.

And you can’t give him one.

Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-

“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”

But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”

Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”

“Y-you’re so mean.”

At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”

You were sure he was talking for himself. 

Or…was he? 

Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls. 

Either you could take him or he’ll make space. 

Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”

You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear. 

Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls. 

Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed. 

“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”

“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”

You stumble through it - yearning for more. 

“Faster.”

“I-I’m trying.’”

But it wasn’t enough. Obviously. 

And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”

How could you not?

It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now. 

Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-

“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”

And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”

Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate. 

And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”

It’s so rough.

Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue- 

Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.

“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”

Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose. 

It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.

“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”

But even that didn’t seem like enough.

Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved. 

So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”

“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.

With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness. 

“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”

You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself. 

It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt. 

“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”

His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”

And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”

God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.

The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-

“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”

“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him. 

You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows. 

“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.

Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”

And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know. 

He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine. 

“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”

And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible. 

It’s like Toji was out of control. 

Feral.

A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”

“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”

Shit.

The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.

Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”

As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea. 

His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy. 

He’s so filthy. 

“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”

And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.

Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words. 

“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”

God- you said his name. 

Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-

“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”

Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”

Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.

But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.

When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”

God, he was flying too close to the sun.

Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”

“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”

You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”

Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”

He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well. 

He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting. 

Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright. 

Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed. 

It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.

THUD!

Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”

Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”

“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”

With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around. 

The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.

“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”

Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”

“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”

“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”

“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”

And it’s only later. 

Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock! 

A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”

“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”

---

“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”

A/N. Hope you all have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.