#I am SO sorry this one got lost in my shuffle

[foldingfittedsheets]

my bed mattress is nearly 2 decades old now but it's still like the comfiest bed i've ever slept in (my autism may have a role in this), is it really necessary to replace it?

Hmgh. It… depends. As someone who Bonds with items especially in my comfort zone like bed and couch this is tough to answer.

A few signs that you do in fact need to replace it:

The bed has a divot where you sleep. These will always impact good sleep and support. Automatic replace.

You are tossing, turning, waking up unrested, or achey. Be very attentive to how you feel upon waking. If you need to keep a diary of how often you wake up unachey and check in after two weeks. If you're conssitently not sleeping great the mattress is letting you down.

If you're waking up congested. 90% of people do not have adequate well maintained mattress protectors. Beds can double their weight every ten years due to dead skin, dust mites and their assorted corpses as they live their life cycles, and general dust. All these thing can cause allergic congestion and is also just Not Great to breathe all night.

All this being said. I nor anyone else is gonna come take your bed from you. You can do whatever you like with your bed, ten years is when I recommend people tune in and asses their situation.

[sutorus]

HEART SHAKER

PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader

WC: ~1k

WARNINGS: established relationship, suggestive language, flirting, attempts at humor. fluff, somehow.

A/N: super freaking unedited i just had to get this out bc i can’t believe it’s not smut LOL

“god, you’re squeezing me so hard, sweetheart.”

you look up through your eyelashes at your boyfriend, brows set low in a warning. he only smirks. 

you pump harder. 

“oh fuck, it’s so tight right now.”

you huff in annoyance, slapping both hands down on your legs. 

“can you stop? i lost count!”

satoru laughs at you, throwing his head back. 

you cringe at how loud his movements sound in your ears, the stethoscope you were using still pressed to his skin. 

you release the pressure on the cuff around his arm, sighing deeply. 

“once again, i’m going to ask you,” you enunciate the words slowly, your eyes aiming at his, right behind that blindfold. “why don’t you have shoko do this?”

you’re sure if it were her measuring his blood pressure she could get actual accurate results. 

satoru tilts his head, smiling sweetly. 

“and why would i do that?” he singsongs. “you’re the prettiest little doctor around.”

“resident,” you correct him. 

you wish so badly that he was due for a vaccine or something, just so you would have an excuse to stab him. 

of course, you weren't complaining. you’re incredibly lucky that shoko took you under her wing once you got a job at the school. you weren’t able to master reverse cursed technique at her level quite yet, but you were just as good of a regular doctor as she was. 

it didn’t matter how good you were though, because you weren’t a pediatrician or a saint, and it takes one of either to deal with gojo satoru as a patient. 

“why do we even bother with check ups?” he asks, leaning back on the exam table. “i am literally healing my body twenty-four-seven.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the light test hammer. 

“what kind of question is that? sit up straight,” you shuffle on your chair, getting in between his too-spread legs. whore. 

satoru shrugs, kicking his dangling feet. “a valid one.”

you bring the hammer down hard on his knee to check his reflexes. naturally, it stops just shy of his leg. 

you don’t even have to look. you know he’s smirking again. 

“turn infinity off.”

“‘turn infinity off’? you’re so cute,” he replies. you try to hit him with the hammer again to no avail. “i need to teach you some combat skills, girl.”

“and i need to examine you,” you get up off your seat, facing him. satoru leans in with a grin. “behave.”

he won’t. 

“wanna play doctor?” 

you ignore his voice and the obvious glee in it, a retort dying on your tongue because you do actually have to carry out a check up, to the best of your abilities. 

grabbing your clipboard, you skim through his most recent health assessment records.

he complained about a migraine to shoko. 

it makes your heart seize for just a moment, to think of all the stress satoru puts himself through to have his technique active at all times. 

“how’s your head?” you ask him. 

“you tell me,” his foot grazes the back of your knee, coaxing you closer. “any complaints?”

a dissatisfied sound comes out of your mouth as you press your hands to his chest instinctively, forcing distance between you two. 

“satoru, please.”

“do you worry, baby?” he reaches out to tentatively hold the side of your face. “don’t worry about me.”

“it’s literally my job,” you trail off, head dropping. 

satoru lifts your chin up and presses his lips to yours for a second or two. 

“sorry, sorry,” he says before you can chastise him. “couldn’t help it. you look so cute all worked up.”

at this point you just twist your lips disapprovingly, putting the stethoscope earpieces back on. 

you press it to his chest and listen as he breathes in and out. 

“satoru,” you frown. “are you okay?”

“hmm?”

you look at him knowingly, a smirk of your own blooming on your face. 

“why is your heart beating so fast?”

at that, your awful, awful boyfriend finally has the decency to blush. 

“and you’re breathing so hard, too—“

“it’s hard, alright—“

“—we might have to schedule some follow up exams,” you click your pen to fill out the form, neglecting the way he leans into you. 

“anytime,” he huffs out, breath skirting on your face where you stand between his knees. “do i get a lollipop for being such a good boy?”

“no,” you reply, taking a step forward. “but you can have this.”

you plant a kiss on his lips, letting it linger for longer than it should as he holds your hips tightly.

he hums contentedly when you pull away.

“mm, smart and generous,” satoru noses your jawline. “how did i get so lucky?”

you fight the sudden shyness rising up at his words.

“the same way i got so unlucky,” you smile at his pout. “life’s just not fair.”

he coos.

“you sweettalk all your patients or am i special?”

despite your best efforts not to, you grin at that.

“the most special,” you say, interlocking your fingers. “now get back to work.”

satoru grumbles a complaint but hops off the table nonetheless.

“thanks a bunch for seeing me, doc,” he leans down to hover his face right above yours. you push him away with a fingertip to his forehead.

“no problem. now shoo.”

you walk up to your desk to hopefully do some actual work now that your most special patient is leaving.

“ah, but i was wondering—“

“yes?” you don’t bother looking up from your paperwork.

“if you could give me some anatomy lessons sometime—“

“out!”

he slips out the door before you can turn around to see it.

you take a deep breath.

you love satoru to death, but you’re beginning to understand why shoko picked up smoking as a stress reliever.

[yuri-is-online]

Without Saying (Floyd and Ruggie x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, feral ariel (Floyd) vs light angst again (Ruggie). If you liked this please check out the previous parts on my masterlist.

Floyd

Under normal circumstances, a quiet Floyd was a suspicious Floyd but today- well today it was just odd. He doesn't look bored per se, just idle standing next to a very tall woman with similarly colored hair who is slowly, carefully, with extreme focus examining every inch of what you think is a novelty piggy bank shaped like the school's wishing well.

"Are you done yet Mamma?" Floyd sounds like he is being careful not to yawn.

"Hush now Floydie," she doesn't even blink, that's how tight her focus is, "Mamma is concentrating." Mrs. Leech's lips are tightly pursed while Floyd mutters something about going to get some candy and slinks off while you question if getting involved in this conversation is part of your job description or even smart. Unfortunately for you by the time you look back up from your clipboard Mrs. Leech has moved directly in front of your face in complete silence. "Human-" you go to scream but she silences you with a look you can't tell is from magic or practice raising the twins "Human can you help me with something?" She doesn't even wait for you to agree before holding up the piggy bank. "What exactly is the purpose of this object?"

"That?" You are surprised your voice doesn't give out entirely as she vigorously nods. "The piggy bank?"

"I see, I see." She nods sagely, immediately whipping around to where she evidently thought her son still was, shrugging undeterred as she decides to simply yell. "FLOYD! IT'S CALLED A PIGGY BANK."

"That's nice Mamma." Calls Floyd, oddly coming off as polite and rational from somewhere deep within the Mystery Shop. " But like what does it do?"

"EXCELLENT QUESTION! Say human what does it do?" You are deeply tempted to say that this woman cannot be serious but you don't really want to find out. You draw yourself up to your full height and nod.

"You put coins in it." Mrs. Leech blinks, a bit taken aback.

"Wait really?" Bravely, with a reasonable fear of being bitten, you reach over and gently lift up the top of the wishing well to show her the coin slot.

"I'm pretty sure this one plays a song when you put a coin in too." You explain.

"But it's so tiny?" She marvels, repeatedly opening and shutting the top of the bank. "How're you supposed to keep your money safe if it's so fragile? But then again I do keep most of mine with my husband..."

"Uhm it's supposed to be a fun gift for little kids." It occurs to you that she might find that offensive since it did look like she was buying it for herself. "To teach them about saving money, at least where I'm from anyway."

"Oh how cute. That settles it, I am definitely getting this." As if sensing that it is check out time Floyd shuffles over and immediately perks up.

"Little Shrimpy! Were you the one helping my mom?" He seems really happy, causing you to breathe a light sigh of relief. Mrs. Leech looks confused, zeroing in on you with the same concentration from earlier.

"Yeah. Trying to anyway." You nervously say; Mrs. Leech's attention turns to her son.

"Aww, how cute. You fishin' for a favor shrimpy?" Normally you would play along with his teasing, but your eyes dart awkwardly to Mrs. Leech whose attention is back on you, then the piggy bank, then you then her son, then you agai-

"Not really, I'm just trying to do my job." You awkwardly laugh and Floyd pouts.

"Spring or Summer?" Mrs. Leech asks cheerfully. To your surprise she has somehow managed to snatch up a second piggy bank within the .2 seconds since you took her attention off her.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh just wondering that's all." She has a very serene smile on her face. Almost too serene. Like you just somehow signed away your soul because you didn't read some fine print. "I'm more partial to Spring myself." You try to look to Floyd for some context but for some reason, he's refusing to make eye contact. Weird.

Ruggie

"Thank you dear." The elderly beastwoman breathes a sigh of relief as you help her settle onto a bench next to the Coliseum. "Goodness, Ruggie warned me this place was big but I didn't realize just how serious he was." You nod, unscrewing the cap on one of the water bottles you brought with you for the old lady. She takes it thankfully and you breathe a gentle sigh of relief, not that Granny Bucchi had been anything more than a bit winded when you found her, but it was still worrying to see an old woman bent over like that. "I really should have just waited for him."

"Didn't he promise to meet you at the mirror chamber?" You ask, trying not to sound too judgmental. You find it hard to believe someone who spoke as fondly of his grandmother at Ruggie wouldn't want to escort her around, Granny Bucchi looks at you sheepishly sort of confirming that.

"He doesn't actually know that I'm here just yet, I wanted to surprise him." She tries to pass you back the water back but you shake your head. The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the sort you only ever get while relaxing with a cup of tea, or in this case a nice old lady who is genuinely enjoying the campus scenery. It's so nice Grim curls himself up into your lap for a little nap. Granny Bucchi scratches just the right place behind his ears to convince the "not a cat" to let out a very cat like purr.

"Did you send him a message to let him know your here?" You whisper, trying not to wake your baby. "If not I can send him one." She lets out a small laugh, similar in sound to her grandson's but still very much her somehow.

"Oh I am sure he'd be half way here already if he knew I had you to myself. Who knows what sort of ideas I could be putting in that head of yours." She winks and takes out her phone, squinting at the keys trying to piece together a message. "You should still send him one though, you'll probably be faster than me."

"Do you mind if I take a picture?" You ask sheepishly. "You know so Ruggie knows you're ok." Lies you just want a picture of you with Granny Bucchi. Sure, to Twisted Wonderland she is just some lady, but she is easily celebrity tier to you with how much glowing praise Ruggie heaps on her.

"Oh please do!" To your surprise she seems genuinely excited and strikes a little pose. What a natural, Vil has nothing on this woman. Not that you are going to say that out loud because you don't have a death wish. You happily text Ruggie as Granny Bucchi looks on fondly. "Do you like taking pictures?" Her voice is much softer than it has been in the admittedly little conversation you have had. "Ruggie sends me a lot of the ones you've given him from your ghost camera, I keep trying to ask him if you're planning on being a photographer in the future but he always dodges the question." She's clearly curious and you can't blame her, you just aren't sure how to answer.

"The future is a bit complicated for me." Is what you settle on, really hoping it doesn't loose you points.

"Oh you don't need to feel bad about that." Her eyes are filled with warmth and affection that you haven't felt in a long time, it's enough to make you want to cry. "Technically the future is complicated for everyone, some of us just muscle through it better than others. Case in point." Granny hauls her self up and nudges you to turn around. Ruggie is staring at both of you with a strange look in his eyes, but when he makes eye contact with you he shakes himself out of whatever mood that was and jogs up to meet you both.

It would be nice, you think, if you could do this again.

[cntloup]

Love Is Not Enough

Fem!Reader angst, hurt/no comfort

Part 1 | Part 2

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside and the beams of sunshine reaching the soft skin of your cheeks through the white linen curtains.

You stretch your body, let out a shaky sigh and place your feet on the warm parquet, making your way towards the sound of shuffling and rattling of plates in the kitchen.

“Good morning, lovie.” he greets with a faint smile. “G’morning, Si.” you mumble, lost in your mind. There's a heavy weight on your chest and you ponder on how to bring up the issue.

He narrows his eyes with concern, “Is there something wrong?” he questions. You hum, not totally present, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

A few moments pass, until you can’t take it anymore, “Si, we need to talk.” you finally blurt out. “I need to tell you something first." he says, guilt and shame filling up his heart.

You nod, "I talked to Price about the vacation leave, and I can’t take it right now. I'm so sorry. But I promise I will. Soon.” he speaks apologetically, ashamed to have disappointed you.

“What?” you ask with disbelief, feeling disheartened. “But you said...” your lips wobble and a lump forms in your throat. Even though you weren't sure it would fix everything, but you were hoping it would help just a little.

How naive of you to believe he would put you before his work just once. But you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. And he broke your heart yet again.

“Si, you’ve been working and working the past year. You don’t spend time with me anymore. We're falling apart. Am I the only one who feels it? Or you think last night solved it? Sex doesn’t fix everything, Simon!” you shout, finally taking out your anger and frustration.

“I know that. But I never thought- what do you mean we’re falling apart? No! We can work through this!” he tries to reassure you, his heart crumbling in his chest at the thought of losing you.

"How, Simon? You thought you can put everything on hold? Put me on hold? And come back whenever you wanted?" you yell at him, frustrated.

"I just need some time." he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Simon, you had plenty of time. Nothing will change. You won’t change. You're not willing to put in even the slightest bit of effort. I'm the only one constantly fighting for this relationship to work." you argue.

"You knew what you got yourself into when you married me. What do you want? You want me to leave my work? I can't fuckin' do that! Maybe you're not mature enough for this relationship!" he finally snaps, raising his voice higher with each word.

You scoff at his words, "So I'm the only one who should make sacrifices? Simon, that's not how relationships work!" you shout back.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down, "Your work always comes first. I know that now." you say, defeated expression written on your face as you finally give up fighting this futile fight.

You walk away towards the bedroom. Moments later, you come back with the papers and place them on the counter.

"What are these?" he asks, "Divorce papers." you reply coldly. “What?” his mouth hangs open and his eyes widen, immediately regretting his previous words as he sees how serious you are.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I want a divorce. I think it’s for the best.” you mention calmly and he looks at you as though he sees a different person.

He can't believe the words that just came out of your mouth and how calm you are about it. What he doesn't know is that your heart is being torn apart as you speak the words.

“No! No fuckin' way!” he responds firmly. “What do you mean no? You can’t just say no!” you retort. “No! I won’t divorce you! You're my wife! I won’t...” he shuts his eyes and lets out a sigh, “Give me some time, please!” he pleads with tears in his eyes and you nearly give in at the sight of him.

"I did. Countless times. I can't take it anymore. Deal with a cold and empty home, frightened out of my mind about your safety. I think you should think this through, Simon. There's no other way.” you say, gently touching his arm, trying so hard to keep yourself from breaking down right in front of him.

He stands there, heartbroken and bewildered, trying to digest what just happened, silent tears dampening his cheeks.

You make your way to your shared bedroom and start packing your stuff, shedding tears as the memories flash before your eyes and you weep, mourning your marriage with the man whom you will always love.

"Wait! Where are you going?" he walks up to you, standing in the doorframe, preventing you from passing. "Simon, let me go please." you plead, hoping he wouldn't, hoping for him to take a step towards you for once.

"I love you. We can fix this. Please!" he implores, sobbing. "How?" you ask, desperately hoping for an answer.

But there is none as it dawns on him. There's no other way. And it's not fair to you to go on like this.

You hold his face in your hands, caressing the scars on his cheeks and upper lip, "I love you, Simon. But that’s not enough, is it?"

Years have passed and he still can’t forgive himself for what he has done, cursing himself for pushing you away to the point of entirely leaving his life and for not fighting for you harder.

He still ponders on what he could’ve done differently as his head hangs low, sitting on the sofa, holding a glass of whiskey, fidgeting with the ring in his hand, wondering if you kept yours too.

He wishes he could forget you, the sound of your beautiful voice, your heavenly features and your delicate touch, but you're the only one there is for him, his whole mind and soul immersed in you. He belongs to you and you belong to him. 

comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 

@preeyansha

@icouldntthinkofanythingclever

[mvltisstuff]

teenage fever - p.p **

summary: peter helps cool his girl down after she gets in trouble at school

peter parker x reader

smut warning pookies 🤭

“got detention today, don’t have to drive me home :(“

peter saw the text the second it arrived, happy to see y/n’s name flash upon his screen. however, his face matched the emoji she put when he noticed what it said.

“what happened? i’ll pick you up and we can head back together after, okay?”

she left a little thumbs up on the message. “i’ll explain later, i’m just annoyed rn”

so, he waited in the parking lot for her. he never minds waiting for her, especially when it’s as rare as this. she never gets in trouble, she’s always been a good student, so he’s completely lost as to why she’s being punished. he sits in his car on his phone for a bit, still pondering why she may have gotten detention.

he saw her walk out of the back doors of the school, heading toward his car with her bag slung over one shoulder. he could instantly see the frustration on her face, and was ready to listen and be the best boyfriend he could.

she walked up, opening the door and sighing as she sat in the passengers seat. “you’ll never fucking guess.”

“i really don’t think i could,” he replies, looking into her face that almost has a smirk on it.

“my shitty calc teacher, right?”

“mhm, go on.”

“she reported my outfit to the office and gave me a detention for being disrespectful about it. all i said was that my outfit was fine! people wear shit like this all the time, and suddenly it’s a problem when i do it?”

peter realizes that he hasn’t gotten a good look at y/n today. at least he hasn’t seen her around school when they have this schedule. so, he takes his time now to scan the outfit that the math teacher supposedly hated.

her hair was pulled back lightly, a few pieces left out in the front. it shaped her face beautifully, the face peter admires every day. he looked down to her top, it was white with thin straps, the ends almost going into a corset-type of look. her waist was perfectly shaped, the one that peter always runs his hands down when standing beside her. the top pushed her boobs up as well, complimenting her lovely round breasts and cleavage that she showed. her shorts were just under her belly button, the dark blue showing off her hips and the way her thighs looked. he tried to sneak by a peek to her ass, turning peter into a hormonal freshman again. he takes in her entire figure, thinking about all the times he’s touched it, kissed it, pleasured it.

“you good?” y/n asks, her brows furrowing when they notice the blank stare on peters face. “babe, stop staring at my boobs, i’ve had enough of that today.”

“sorry!” he exclaims. “i think your outfits good- or hot- well you always look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

“thanks,” she smiles, seeing through his act. just by the way she looks at him, peter can feel himself getting warmer. every single time she fans her lashes while she looks up at him sends goosebumps down his arms, leading to his crotch as he shuffled uncomfortably in the driver seat. “you’re so funny sometimes.”

“what?” he asks.

“i just turned you on by stepping into this car, peter. don’t act all innocent on me,” she tells him, tilting herself more angled toward him. he notices the way her arms get closer together, pushing her tits together and peter can feel himself getting harder. “wow, maybe my teacher was right. maybe i am too distracting.”

she pulls a grin onto her face, letting her hand rest on his thigh. he shivers lightly, placing his own hand on top of hers. she places a hand on the side of his face, pushing his lips against her own. just by kissing her boyfriend, y/n could almost forget about the trouble she was in. she’d do it all again if it lead her to this, though. his hand brushes against her knuckles, lightly floating her hand over his sweatpants.

they are both fully facing each other, eyes shut as they fall into the others mouth. peter could always make her feel like they were the only people in the world, and no one else mattered.

he could easily taste the flavored gloss she had on, the scent instantly entering his nose as she inches closer to him. his fingers ran over her jaw and over her hair, admiring the silky strands on her head that he loved so much. he wishes the noises she made were louder, so he could hear her little noises perfectly, just the ones that turn him on more. it lasts for minutes, her hands trailing down to his thick biceps from all the crime fighting he did. her touch was always warm besides the cool feeling of her few rings on his skin. he let himself wander down to her waist, caressing the side before landing them onto her hips.

“y/n,” he groans into her mouth, pulling away slowly to lean his head against hers.

“shh,” she cuts him off. “i know what you want.”

“i want you to wear this every day.”

“yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, chuckling at him as he writhes under her touch. one of his hands still remains on her hip as she starts to inch her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. he can feel himself getting antsy for her to touch him, to do anything to him to relieve the pressure in his body.

his wish is her command in an instant, helping him to pull down the sweatpants past his crotch to reveal his boxers underneath. when she peels down the boxers, his hardened dick is immediately in her grasp, her mouth watering just by looking at his. she leaves a soft kiss on his tip, only relieving an gram of tightness through his abdomen.

she wraps her hand around his shaft, starting to pump lightly and gets the sweetest moan from peters lips. she adores seeing him like this, the way he falls into her grasp and lets her please him. “jesus, y/n.”

“i know, baby,” she smiles up at his blushed face while he looks at his favorite sight. she takes her tongue and drags it up the underside of his dick, wrapping her mouth around him and keeping her hands on the end. peters hands fly around the place at the intensity, not knowing where to put them until he places one on y/n’s head and the other on the side of his thigh.

she bobs her head up and down on him, sucking his dick with such ease that it makes him more turned on than he’s ever been. he hates to think of this, but he thinks of her in that class, her perfect body on display for him as the teacher eyes her.

the way his dick throbs and jumps makes her feel the arousal form in her heat, just knowing that she’s completely wet over hearing peters moans for her. she pulls back, letting the saliva form in her mouth before sucking her mouth back onto him. she looks over at his veiny hands clutching the car door, his chest heavily breathing and heart pounding. “y/n, fuck i’m really close.”

she signals to him that he can come by just continuing her motions on him. her extra hand moves down to his balls while she fondles them as he groans out into the thick air of the car. when he finally reaches his orgasm, his cum coats the inside of her mouth, settling in her tongue as she wipes some from her lip. he laughs when he watches her swipe some off her chin and swallow the rest, only finding it hotter as he gets hard again.

once peter catches his breath again, he loops his finger through the belt holes in her shorts, pulling them up toward him and he’s able to see the curve of her ass in them and he watches her thigh swing over him, just remembering all the times he’s been in-between them.

“wait,” he starts. “get these off.” he points to the shorts, helping her peel them off her legs to noticed the lacy pair of panties she had on underneath. he doesn’t bother to take her shirt off, not wanting to waste another moment where he’s not inside of her. “you look so hot today, baby.”

“thanks, peter,” she grins against his lips. “but i can just tell from how hard you are right now.” she grinds herself into his crotch, the fabric of her underwear rubbing against him, making him moan. he reached down, moving her panties to the side and runs his fingers through her warm folds. she pushes her warmth up against his dick, sliding his length through her slick pussy.

“you’re this wet for me already?”

“you’re crazy if you think i haven’t been this wet for you all day.” she whispers into his ear. “honestly, there wasn’t a period today that i didn’t think about you fucking me in this car, peter. even in detention.”

“it’s a good thing mr. stark tinted my windows, can’t see anything in here.”

she continues to rock her hips against him before he reaches underneath them. he shoves two of his fingers into her vagina, craving the taste of her on his tongue. she sighs out at the feeling of him filling her with just two of his fingers, only to be disappointed when he pulls them out again.

he brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers before reaching back down to his own dick, slipping it through her folds before sinking into her pussy.

they moan out simultaneously, instantly feeling somewhat relieved of the horniness they felt early. he still grabs a hold of her waist, helping bounce her up and down on his shaft as he moans out sweet nothings in her ear. “oh my god, y/n, this feels so good.”

she runs her fingers through his hair, ruining the small amount of gel he had applied that morning. his own arms reached around, pulling her into his chest and having her lean against him, his head fully in her soft tits and he was finally in heaven.

he reached another one of his hands down, circling her clit with his thumb and getting closer with the thought of him inside of her. he starts to tease the small nerves, making her moan out and pull him closer against her. “holy shit, peter!”

he starts thrusting up into her, using his lower body to slam into her repeatedly. he admired the way her boobs jiggle to the action of him fucking her. the coil in his stomach only began to tighten more, knowing that his second orgasm was close. he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to contain himself and resist cumming inside her warm pussy, but luckily birth control exists.

“peter, i’m gonna cum,” she announces, feeling his thrusts get choppier inside of her. “fuck, fuck, fuck! peter!” she utters out to each of his last thrusts before feeling his own release warm inside of her. the fireworks inside of her went off, feeling the intense stream of pleasure through her nerves. her heart thumps against her chest as she comes down from the high, peters thrusts only being slow and sensual now.

“god, i’ll never get enough of you.” peter mumbles into her neck, giving it light pecks as they both relax in each others arms.

“thank you,” she says.

“for what?”

“well, first of all for that awesome sex, and second, just for being there. you didn’t have to wait for me.”

“i’m glad i did, trust me. i’ll always wait for you.” he tells her, making a cheesy beam grow on her mouth. “i love you.”

“i love you, too, peter.” she plants one last kiss to his lips before moving back to her own seat.

lil extra smth

when peter and y/n walk in together, he slightly trails behind her, noticing the lightness and excitement in her mood. she walks into the room, the fellow avengers sitting around. sam, bucky, and steve were all playing cards games at the table as nat watched over them. tony sat on the couch, reading over something about him that was released in the news paper.

they hear friday announce that y/n and peter have arrived, and they surely didn’t expect a bubbly y/n in her outfit to come waltzing in. “hi, guys!” she says, looking around and giving them a nice smile as peter walks in, too.

“what’s got her so bubbly today?”

“i got a detention today!” she says, with no apparent upset on her face. “sorry we’re later than normal.” she looks at nat next making eye contact and winking at her as she skips away to her room. peter trails behind, almost shamefully walking away from the rest of them. nat just looks at her drink smirking while it swirls in the cup, knowing exactly what’s got y/n so thrilled. she gives a certain face to everyone else, signaling what went down.

“are you kidding me?” sam complains. “you’re telling me parker got laid today and i didn’t?”

[clockwayswrites]

This isn’t me feeding you all this week.

Timeline Masterpost Wc:1535

“Hey, sorry. Do you have anything that’s good at getting out blood stains?”

Jason blinked sleepily down Danny, who was standing at his door with a pair of jeans and a shirt clutched in his hand.

A hastily bandaged hand.

Jason resigned himself to waking up the rest of the way. “What did you do to yourself?”

The answer was lost as Danny ducked his head down in embarrassment.

“Didn’t quite get that,” Jason drawled.

Danny shuffled, peering up at Jason from under his bangs. “I said I was just trying to cook lunch.”

“Okay Tuesday, get in here.” Jason stepped back to let Danny in. He motioned with a little wave when Danny just blinked back at him.

“Tuesday?”

“Because nothing good ever happens on a Tuesday—”

“You’ve said.”

“—and you are just bad luck.”

“I am— no, okay, that’s fair. Guess my name is Tuesday now,” Danny pondered as he followed Jason into his apartment.

Jason steered Danny over to the kitchen island, sitting him down at it while he went to grab the first aid kit that he kept above the fridge. “How’d you cut your hand?”

“Can of beans.”

“Can of beans,” Jason parroted back dryly. “How’s you cut your hand on a can of beans?”

“I opened it and was fishing out the lid, but part of the side was sharp and it cut my hand, just a little bit, but it made me jolt and then I cut myself on the lid and… yep. Here I am, sitting in your kitchen, bleeding. Which really sucks because I need to get my pants clean since they’re my only pair decent enough to wear in public.”

Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You only have one pair of jeans?”

“Don’t judge me. It used to be two but there was that Ivy attack last week and it was me or my pants in the fight against the vines.”

“Tuesday…”

Danny’s brow crinkled adorably. “No, it was Wednes- oh, right, nickname. Really living up to it already, aren’t I?”

“You really are,” Jason said. His words were gruff, but he made sure to keep his touch gentle as he took Danny’s hand and started to undo the bandages. “So I’m going to clean and bandage this up properly. Then I’ll throw your cloths in the wash.”

“I was just going to wash them in the tub, I don’t have enough to waste a load on,” Danny protested.

“It’s fine,” Jason said. He wiped away the blood, getting a sense of the cuts under it. Hand wounds were tricky because they were prone to reopening, but it didn’t look too bad. “I’ve got a washer in my unit.”

“Really? I didn’t think they had the hookups.”

Jason gave a little huff of a laugh at that, which caused Danny to give a scowly little pout. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re new here or you’d know I know the owner. It comes with perks.” Jason ran a disinfectant wipe over the cut, shushing Danny soothingly as the other hissed at the burn. “So like I said, I’m going to thrown your clothes in the wash. Then I’m making breakfast—”

“It’s after eleven.”

“I just woke up, it’s breakfast,” Jason said with the firm tone of someone in the nightlife. “And then we’re going shopping because you need more than one pair of pants.”

Danny ducked his head, mumbling again.

“Speak up Tuesday. And hold your hand still,” Jason instructed as he carefully applied the liquid stitches.

“I said I don’t have the money to buy new pants, that’s why I need these clean.”

Jason tilted Danny’s hand, inspecting his work. Just to be safe he added on a few butterfly bandages. “I didn’t ask if you had the money, I told you we’re going shopping.”

“I— what?”

“I’ll buy you the pants, Tuesday.”

“What?! No! No, nope,” Danny explained waving frantically.

Jason’s hand shot out to grab Danny’s wrist before he could undo all of Jason’s hard work. Danny froze under his grip, which Jason made sure to loosen. “Stop moving until I’m done, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jason watched Danny for a moment to make sure he was actually going to listen before nodding and getting to work wrapping the hand. “I’ll buy you the pants and anything else you need. I’ve got the money for it and I’m not exactly doing anything else with it. Call it a house warming present or some shit if you need a reason to accept it.”

“You already brought me cinnamon buns last week,” Danny pointed out in a mumble.

“Naw, now I know how you eat. Those weren’t a house warming present, those were a survival package.”

“I- that’s not! Hey!” The blush Danny was now sporting made the scattering of freckles he had all the more obvious.

Jason just chuckled as he looked over the first aid one more time before releasing Danny’s hand and peeling off his gloves. “Now be a good boy and sit there while I put your stuff in the wash.”

Danny opened his mouth and snapped it closed before he just gave a meek little nod.

Leaving Danny to sit, Jason took the clothing to his washroom. He prepped the clothing, thankful as he often was for Alfred’s special blend of stain remover. He’d check before putting them in dryer, but he was confident that the blood would come out.

Danny was still perched on the barstool when Jason came back to the main room. He was leaning to the side, almost tipping the stool over in his efforts to looking around curiously, but didn’t seem to have moved from his seat. When he spotted Jason he set back up properly. The stool made thunk as it righted; Danny winced.

“Are you good with eggs and toast?” Jason asked as he rounded the island.

“No toast.” The words were surprisingly vehement— enough to make Jason turn to look at Danny in surprise. Danny rubbed at the back of his neck, ducking his head again a little. “Sorry, I just really, really don’t like toast. But eggs sound great.”

Jason hummed, opening his bread box. “Do English muffins get the same hate as toast?”

“Those are… like the Egg McMuffin things, right?”

“Tuesday, you’re killing me here,” Jason said with a sigh. “Yes, if you want a horrible example, they’re like the Egg McMuffin things.”

“They’re fine?”

“Okay.” Jason pulled them out and then moved to the fridge to grab what he would need to whip up a knock off eggs Benedict. “So, what brought you to Gotham?”

He might as well get some information while he cooked.

“What makes you think I’m not from here?”

“Trust me Tuesday, it’s very clear you’re not,” Jason said, glancing over in timeto catch Danny’s pout.

“Fine, I mean, you’re right. I’m here for college. I got a partial scholarship to Gotham U.”

“Good on you. What are you studying?” Jason asked as if he didn’t already know.

“Engineering, which I know, nerd.”

“No shame in that, the world needs nerds.” The bacon hissed as it hit the heating pan. “How are you finding Gotham?”

“Different. This is nothing like where I can from. But it’s not as bad as everyone said it was. I’ve met some really nice people, some of them even keep cooking for me.”

Jason laughed at that. “Yeah? I hear good enough food gets your a mirage proposal.”

“Sorry, that honor is so far limited to bready things. Did you make these muffin things yourself?” Danny teased.

“Not this time. Like my sorta Grandfather says, they’re a faff to make.”

“And whatever you’re doing now isn’t?” Danny said, leaning over the counter to watch as Jason separated an egg.

“This? This is just a hollandaise sauce.”

“Oh, is that all?” Danny deadpanned.

“Shut it— it’s meant to be a ‘minute sauce’,” Jason explained, tossing the shell and washing his hands. “Just an egg yolk, melted butter, lemon juice, and a good whisking.”

“Huh, never had it before,” Danny said, propping his head up on his hands. “No one cooked much at home— other than my mother’s fudge.”

“Why fudge?”

“It was good motivation for my father, basically. I think she uses it to get him to do the… house work she doesn’t want too. Not that anyone really took care of the things that really needed to be done.”

The bitter note to Danny’s voice was a little concerning.

“Well, I can teach you to cook a few basic things.”

“You don’t hav—”

“Think of it as ensuring you don’t burn down the building I live in.”

It would give him a chance to figure out the minor mystery that was Danny Nightingale, even if it was seeming more and more like a case of Tuesday luck.

Danny narrowed his eyes at Jason for a moment before his shoulders drooped. “Sure. I guess at this point it’s clear I need the help and I can’t afford keep living on take-out.”

“I promise, we won’t jump right to hollandaise,” Jason said as he started whisking vigorously. Sometimes his crime boss muscles came in handy for more than punching.

-----

AN: Danny with Hood: grins like a feral beast I'm gonna bite him. Danny with Jason: gets called a ‘good boy’ and blue screens

Jason is despairing over here. He just cannot. So much despair. At least Danny is cute. Eventually I’ll write some actual sugar daddying lol but at least Jason has offered now.

Goon squad (I tried to catch everyone- best place to be sure to be added to the list is to ask on the masterpost! Please make sure you aren’t already on the list though. I’ve also removed all name that wouldn’t link.) @addie-lover-of-stories @bathildaburp @d4ydr34min9 @sometimesthingsfallapart @vythika96 @worthlesswall @aroranorth-west @chrysanthemum9484 @ver-444 @impulsiveasshole @meira-3919 @lazy-bouqet @cryinginthevoid @thegatorsgoose @cutelittlebeanie @blankliferain @ramblingkat @screamingtofillthevoid @themirrorghost @skulld3mort-1fan @may-rbi @nixthenerd @moonlupine @olivethetreebitch @overtherose @roseinbloom02 @v-inari @nappinginhell @imchildish8775 @leftmiraclechaos @mygood-bitch99 @ailithnight @busterkeel @avelnfear @ravenshadow17 @demigraceling-blog @maskygirl55 @sroomheaddoc @undead-essence @desertbogwitch @addie-lover-of-stories @magic-pincushion @phantom-dc @gin2212 @meira-3919 @apointlessbox @hollowgast1 @cutelittlebeanie @friends-fam-fiends-hellothere @serasvictoria02 @dulceringo @mushroom-jack @icedbluesoul @coruscateselene @escelia @firegirl108 @crystalqueertea @booberrylizard @phoenixdemonqueen @shorterthanadverage @pyramaniac @seraphinedemort @fallenangle67 @chaoticchange @soren1830 @trippingovermyfeet @nutcase8691 @themirrorghost @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff @a-salty-sal @guardianrex @dsabian @8-29pm @consouling @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @smol-book-nerd @help-i-need-a-cool-username @bianca-hooks123 @girlnic @punderfulfandoms @willakk @orbr

[peachhcs]

she's not her.

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will thinks the combine will help him get his mind off samy, but that completely backfires when he realizes she's everywhere with him.

3.2k words

hiii here's the first (new) installment of the new breakup timeline of the au!! (also so long wow) i'm writing four of the major points of the breakup into fics, but if you guys want smaller blurbs about any of it, send them to the inbox. cassidy is a completely fake character here, but zeev and james are real people! (i don't know the other boys too well, sorry!!)

au masterlist

“yeah, mom. it’s going great,” will hummed as he shuffled around his room searching for his keycard despite him already being ten minutes late. 

the boy could never keep his belongings straight whenever he stayed in a hotel room by himself. how did he even manage before? the answer hit will before he could even really think about it because you know who was always with him on these things? 

he knew who and he was not going to say her name. will promised himself he’d use this week to just forget about all of his problems and just enjoy getting to know the other guys here and that meant he was not going to say—

“samy’s mom called me earlier. she asked about you,” damn it. whatever his mom was saying before didn’t process in his brain because he snapped right back into reality as soon as the name left his mom’s lips. 

and why on earth was she referring to ellen as “samy’s mom.” will knew his mom always, always called her ellen. she probably read his mind or something knowing he was trying (and failing) to not think about her this week. 

“oh. okay,” will didn’t know what to say, so he continued searching for the stupid keycard. 

“i told her you were at the combine having fun. she told me samy’s at her sleepaway camp for the week too,” mrs. smith continued even though she knew will didn’t want to talk about samy at all. 

“mom, can you not?” the boy mumbled. 

“can i not what, will? she’s still a part of this family, so i am gonna ask about her and tell you because i know you still care,” colleen had a point and the blonde hated it because she was right. 

he did care. of course, he cared no matter how much he didn’t want to. that was the hardest part about all of this. 

“i gotta go. i’m already running a bit late. i’ll talk to you later, mom. love you,” they exchanged their goodbyes as soon as will found what he wanted under a pile of clothes in the corner. 

“thank god,” the boy mumbled as raced out of his room to where some of the guys he met were waiting down in the lobby. 

will felt so new to all of this—the media, the sudden popularity, the press. these guys seemed so used to it all yet he was so lost in it all still. he spotted his new friends in some of the chairs awaiting his presence, so he mustered up his best smile as he approached them. 

“there you are, smitty. where were you?” zeev spots the blonde first, his legs hung over the armrest of the chair. 

“sorry, i lost my keycard. i had to find it before i left,” will explained a bit embarrassingly. the other guys laughed him off though and that’s when the blonde noticed a few girls mixed into the group now. a few of them sent eyes his way, whispering things to one another which made will’s cheeks flush a slight pink color, but not in the blushing kind of way. 

“come on, i’m starving. those lines got me wanting anything,” cole muttered as the group pushed themselves to the door. the five of them plus the three new girls walked down the sidewalk chatting about anything in hopes of taking their minds off food until they found something. 

“hey, you’re will, right?” the new voice caught the blonde off guard. 

to his right was one of the new girls in the group he didn’t really know. her name was along the lines of cassidy, but he wasn’t 100% sure. “yeah, that’s me,” he laughed lightly. 

“nice to finally meet you. i’m cassidy, but everyone calls me cass,” she held her hand out with a big smile. will stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, his mind running in circles. 

this could be his chance to finally forget about samy. he said he needed an distraction and this seemed like the perfect one. plus, what was the harm in a little flirting? he took her hand a moment later. 

“nice to meet you, too. you play for minnesota, right?” will wondered, watching cass’s eyes light up that he even knew that about her. 

“yeah, i do!” 

“you guys had a real good season. i was impressed,” her smile continued growing with will’s words. 

“yeah, we did. i mean, you guys were incredible, too. you dominated the ice,” she gushed a little making will flush. he knew people watched his games from all over the place, but he never paid much attention to all of that. 

not when he was always thinking about samy watching the livestream from her dorm room while cheering him on. wait. no. 

no. there was no samy. 

“thanks. it wasn’t always easy, but the fans made it worth it,” the boy hummed. cass grinned again, letting their conversation die into comfortable silence as they followed their group into a restaurant someone chose. 

the young hockey player spotted rutger and some of his buddies at a nearby table making him stop in his tracks for a second. he knew rut would be here, but he just hoped he’d manage to avoid him because he knew the older boy probably hated him knowing what happened between him and samy. 

some of the guys behind him pushed will forward again. his eyes glued themselves to where rutger sat in a laughing fit over what someone at his table said. the older boy held his chest, violently shaking from laughter and finally looked in will’s direction. the two met each other’s gazes and in a surprise gesture, rutger nodded toward the younger boy. 

that threw will off guard. he studied rut for a second longer until someone pushed him forward again and he landed in his seat. 

“woah, careful smitty. you okay?” james laughed a little as he walked around to his seat. the others glanced will’s way. 

“yeah, sorry. got a little distracted,” the blonde excused himself, eyes diverting to the menu to get the attention off of him. the others shrugged, returning to their conversation while will’s eyes stayed right on his menu. 

“what’s your favorite food?” cass’s voice filled will’s ears again. he looked up, her eyes already on him where she sat in the seat next to his. 

“anything, really. i tend to eat anything,” the boy mumbled with an awkward smile. 

“hey, i’m the same way. i’ve never been too picky about my food,” she returned his smile. 

“my sister’s a big picky eater. our mom was always making three different meals for the family because we were all eating different things,” the blonde chuckled as some of the nerves he had earlier started subsiding. 

the two quickly hit it off, having their own little conversations throughout lunch. will’s smile was big when cass laughed at the things he said and he laughed right back at her own corny jokes. it felt refreshing for the blonde. he suddenly didn’t have this heavy feeling in his chest anymore that he’s had since the end of may. this felt really good. 

but what did they say about good things? they never lasted long? something like that. 

will’s gaze would bounce over to where rutger still was every so often. the older boy was never looking in his direction when will looked, too occupied with his own conversations, but rut did glance over at the younger blonde when he wasn’t looking too. 

rut only heard bits and pieces about the breakup, but he knew samy was really hurt from all of it and while the older hockey player wasn’t one to involve himself in things that he wasn’t a part of, he couldn’t but watch what looked like will laugh a little too hard with that girl. 

sure, will could do whatever he wanted and rutger didn’t care. the boy did care, however, about the fact that it looked like will was trying to talk up a new girl not even two weeks after breaking up with samy. that bothered rutger because he knew if ethan or mark were here, they wouldn’t be afraid to go over and bitch at will. 

rutger’s subtle glances finally caught will’s. the blonde was in the middle of a conversation with cass when he caught the glance from the corner of his eye. rut was looking right a him with a look on his face that will knew wasn’t good. 

“you good?” cass wondered when she noticed will’s attention shift. 

the boy’s attention immediately snapped back to hers, “yeah, sorry. my bad. what was i saying?” his words rushed out together making him come off a bit nervous. 

“something about…sumer on a boat or something?” cass reminded him. 

“right, yes. yeah. so, as i was saying,” will’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about rutger’s look. it felt like a warning or..disapproval? disappointment? 

why could he never escape samy no matter how hard he tried? it was like she was everywhere. 

“every summer my family and i go to this lakehouse in michigan. my best friend and i—well, used to be best best friend would always stay up super late to see how many planets we could count. whoever counted the most by the end of the summer would buy one another something the other really wanted,” will hummed, somehow always finding ways to talk about samy without even realizing it. a small smile was on his lips at that memory because he was the one buying samy things by the end of the summer every time. 

“huh, that sounds interesting. aren’t the same planets always coming out at night though so how does that work?” cass’s expression became puzzled. 

will’s gaze snapped to hers, his face flushing again. “i mean, yeah, but different ones will come out and go away as the summer goes on. it was just some little thing..” the boy’s voice trailed off as he slowly realized that game only really made sense to him and samy because they were the ones who came up with it when they were younger. 

cass didn’t look too impressed though. the blonde’s eyes swept over to rutger again who wasn’t looking at him this time, but will still couldn’t get that look out of his head nor the fact that he talked about samy without even trying after trying so hard to forget about her this week. 

it seemed like everything will did or said led him straight back to samy. shit. 

who was he kidding? he couldn’t flirt with someone. he didn’t even know how to flirt because he never really had to with samy. 

cass’s attention drifted away from the boy and no one else was really looking at him, so will took that as his chance to excuse himself. he needed air or something to just get out of his fucking head. the boy scrambled out of his seat in a rushed goodbye, hurrying off to the bathroom before anyone could really bat an eye. 

rutger’s gaze fell on the younger boy as he retreated further back into the restaurant. he saw will’s friends glancing around for a moment before letting him be. the older brunette gazed one more time before saying fuck it and going after will. 

the blonde stumbled into the bathroom suddenly feeling hot. his hand clutched his chest where his heart wouldn’t stop pounding a bruise on the spot while his other hand grabbed ahold of the edge of the counter, bending over the sink as if he was going to puke. will squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that would slow his heart rate down, but it only heightened as his breathing picked up into heavy pants. 

“fuck, pull yourself together,” will mumbled to mostly himself. 

she’s not her. she’s not her. she’s not her. the stupid phrase replayed itself over and over in will’s mind. 

the bathroom door swung open with rutger rushing to will’s side when he saw the kid bent over the sink while panting. “jesus christ, will? are you okay?” the older brunette bent down to will’s level, trying to meet his eyes. 

“i can’t breathe,” will managed through his hyperventilating. 

rutger looked around, realizing no one else was in the bathroom with them. he wasn’t really an expert in this, never really having dealt with panic attacks before. 

“hey, yes you can. it’s okay. i’m here,” rutger tried his best, his attention back on will. 

“she’s not her,” now the blonde was crying. 

“what are you talking about?” the older hockey player grew confused. the heavy pants and now tears didn’t make it easy for him to understand what was being said. 

“she won’t ever be her. i fucked up, rut,” will got out a bit clearer this time. 

rutger quickly understood. 

“do you want me to call her? i can call her?” rut eased his tone, finishing for his phone in his pocket. 

“no, no. don’t,” will shook his head. he couldn’t call samy like this. plus, she didn’t want to speak to him ever again, making it very clear after blocking him on nearly everything. 

“will, i gotta call someone. you’re freaking me out,” the older boy said. 

“call gabe or ryan. i need to talk to them,” so rutger listened and searched his contacts until he landed on ryan’s number first. 

the phone rang three times until ryan finally answered. “rutger? what’s up?” the younger brunette sounded confused that the michigan hockey player was randomly calling him. 

“hey, sorry for the call. i-i’m with will. he’s..he’s having a panic attack i think. he wanted to talk to you,” rutger explained the situation, eyes on will who’s breathing began slowing down. 

“shit, is he okay?” ryan urged. 

“i-i think so? i don’t know. i’m not an expert in this,” rut held the phone out for will to take. 

the blonde’s shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear, “hey leno,” he managed weakly. 

“will? are you okay?” ryan’s voice was laced with concern. he never called will by his first name unless there was something serious going on. 

the guilt and shame quickly settled into will’s body. his eyes glanced to rutger standing beside him still and then his head fell. “i fucked up, ryan. i realize i fucked up now.” 

“what are you talking about?” ryan didn’t get it. 

“everything brings me back to her. no can be her no matter how hard i think they are or want them to be,” the blonde frowned deeply, especially because he was admitting this in front of one of samy’s closest guy friends. 

ryan didn’t need to ask twice who his friend was talking about while a pause came from his end as he digested will’s admission. rutger realized this seemed like a conversation he wasn’t a part of, so he just squeezed the blonde’s shoulder and nodded towards the door saying to just find him when will was done with his phone. 

“i’m gonna add gabe to the call, okay?” ryan finally said as will sunk down onto the ground. he didn’t care that the bathroom floor was incredibly disgusting because he could not go back out and face his friends out there without muttering some lame excuse about leaving. 

“uh, hey?” gabe connected a moment later, confused about why he was on a call with ryan and rutger mcgroarty. 

“hey, it’s me. will’s on the call with rutger’s phone,” ryan explained. 

“oh. is everything okay?” gabe wondered, still confused on what was happening. 

“i fucked up really bad. i know that now,” will said and gabe also didn’t have to ask twice about what his friend was talking about. 

“what made you finally come to this conclusion?” ryan asked, trying not to sound bitter. he knew will was having a hard time, but he would not forget samy showing up to his house in tears after their breakup. 

“i really, really thought i could just forget about her at the combine and just enjoy myself, but everytime i talk to someone, i always end up talking about her no matter how hard i try not to. she’s everywhere in my mind. i thought i could stupidly talk to this girl..be a distraction? i don’t know, but i think i just really wanted her to be samy instead,” will admitted sheepishly. 

“yeah..that happens after having such a history with someone,” gabe said. 

“i know i fucked up. you don’t need to keep telling me that. i feel like shit about it,” will scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit. 

“as much as i hate you for doing what you did and never wanting to see samy that hurt again, maybe you should talk to her,” ryan finally said, tone softening out. 

“i can’t talk to her even if i wanted to. she blocked me on everything almost immediately,” the blonde frowned. 

“look, we all make mistakes. it’s human nature. are you an asshole for hurting her? yes. am i still mad at you for it? yes. do i think you fucked up completely though? no. maybe give it some more time and then reach out. things are still fresh, emotions are still high. we all know samy and we know she doesn’t hold a grudge for that long,” gabe gave his two cents about it as well. 

“i wouldn’t blame her if she did hold a grudge for a while though,” ryan cut in. 

“jesus, shut up, leno. i get it,” the blonde rolled his eyes. 

“look, we’re always here for you, will. I’ll be in boston next, so i’ll see you and we can talk more, yeah?” gabe spoke again before ryan and will started fighting or something. 

“yeah, thanks. sorry for bothering you guys,” will frowned a bit. 

“don’t sweat it. love ya, smitty,” that made will smile again. 

“yeah, love you i guess. just try to have a good time for the rest of the week,” ryan said and will nodded even though they couldn’t see him. 

“thanks, love you guys too. talk later,” they hung up after that. 

will pushed himself back to his feet, splashing water on his face to hopefully get rid of his red and flushed cheeks. he carefully pushed the bathroom door back open, surveying the restaurant for rutger’s table. 

the boy made his way over, nudging rutger’s arm when he was closer. the older boy looked over, “thanks,” will said. 

“of course. you okay, now?” 

the blonde nodded. he glanced to his table where a few of the guys met his gaze, waving him over. he walked towards them, already having decided he wasn’t all that hungry anymore and just wanted to be alone for a bit. 

“there you are! you good?” zeev asked seeing his friend. 

“yeah, not feeling too well. i think i’m gonna head back. sorry,” will muttered out his excuse. 

“oh, okay. feel better man. text me,” zeev said and will nodded before making his exit. 

he didn’t even look cassidy’s way. the only girl on his mind was samy and it was gonna stay like that for a long time. 

[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Chapter 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Hey! Didn’t keep you waitin’ too long, did we?”

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)

AN: there's a couple mentions of emotional eating (in thoughts). Degrading words towards self (slut, whore, etc) but not self-degrading. I think that's it? Lemme know if I missed something, it's 5:50 am at time of posting and I am eepy, so I'm sorry if I did ♥

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 12.9k

The scent of something marvelously delicious wafting through the air had you groggily rolling over from your stomach to your back in bed, stretching your arms above you and practically vibrating the way a cat would as you eased away any sleep-induced tension from your muscles.

You honestly hadn’t slept that well in a long while. You were bleary-eyed, sure, but refreshed. You didn’t have any heavy bags under your eyes, you didn’t experience any nightmares of being hunted. Just calm, good, dreamless sleep.

As much as you wanted to laze around in bed all day, though, the watering of your mouth couldn’t go ignored. Or the rumble in your stomach, for that matter.

With a sleepy groan and big, feline-like yawn to match your stretch, you shuffled out of bed and rubbed the crusties from your eyes as you pulled on some comfortable clothes. Hell if you knew what you were going to do for the day, you could figure that out after you sated your appetite.

You were downright drooling when you left your room to do your morning routine and groused like a toddler that didn’t want to brush her teeth before devouring her weight in breakfast. But you were a grown ass woman that quite preferred to have good hygiene, thank you very much. The intoxicating call of sustenance would have to wait until after you scrubbed your face and polished your teeth to perfection.

Catching sight of yourself in the mirror made you choke when you saw how chaotic the nest of hair on your head was. You felt like a cartoon character that got zapped, your tresses sticking in every direction. 

You must have slept really well, then.

You combed your fingers through the messy strands, trying to smooth the misbehaving locks. It took some effort to tame them into a somewhat presentable fashion, which was the most you cared to do when you were dying to eat already.

Your eyes flickered towards the remaining bottles you left on the sink countertop from last night and you nearly lost your shit.

Just what did Satoru put Ijichi through to get you high end skin products like these? And in such a short amount of time? You guessed the poor man broke a few speeding laws to get these in time for you to use. That, or maybe Satoru had informed him earlier, when you initially agreed to take him up on his offer to stay at his place. Or he already had them and was keeping them around for this kind of situation? Did he use the same brand?

Well, whatever. You were going to use those zealously, so help you god.

And, by the heavens above and seas below, they were fucking incredible. Your face was baby-skin soft. Lustrous, dewy, you were glowing, and certainly felt like it, too. You couldn’t stop touching your cheeks and forehead, they were just so smooth. 

No wonder rich people always had the clearest skin. If you had these while growing up, you never would have had to deal with getting acne in your teens and into your adulthood.

So fucking unfair.

Lamenting how Satoru was born with a silver spoon in his mouth while you were robbed by the universe, you followed the delectable wisps of the tasty aroma in the air like a drunk cupid with tiny wings and a dazed veneer on your face. There you found the man himself in the kitchen, humming an unfamiliar song to himself.

You continued to be baffled that he knew how to cook. It seemed almost unnatural, in a way. He was the prime example of a rich boy that you could find reclining on a poolside chair, hands behind his head as a servant hand fed him grapes. Yet here he was, cooking away, an apron tied around his neck and waist (with frills and little hearts, too, the flashy ass). You wouldn’t be surprised if it had ‘Kiss the Chef’ written across the front and oh, would you look at that, you were right.

“Goooood morning!” Satoru exclaimed, turning away from the stove to greet you. The apron was even flashier than you thought. For fuck’s sake, it had sequins on it. “How’d you– whoa. Nevermind, your hair answers that question.”

You subconsciously tried to flatten down your frizzy tangles once more, grumbling and pulling your gaze away from the atrocious fabric covering his chest that you would totally wear as well, gods, it was horrific. Your morning hair never liked to cooperate with you. “Morning.”

Yawning against the back of your hand, you climbed onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island and veered your body to the side, trying to see what he was cooking around his arm. It smelled sweet, the kind of sweet that was almost enough to make you nauseous, but wouldn’t actually cross that line. Kind of like dessert after you’ve filled yourself to bursting with dinner.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you said.

“Pancakes!” He exclaimed, sliding an already finished plate to you, soufflé pancakes stacked high atop, drizzled in chocolate and syrup. He even added fruit slices in an arch around the back, just to make it extra fancy.

Someone had a sweet tooth, it seemed. That, and it was obvious he was trying to show off his culinary skills, having the perfect reason to do so now.

But who were you to point that out? You were getting free food, and not even for the first time! Of course you were going to stuff yourself sick with these. Because, honestly, they did look incredible. You would have felt bad about devouring such art if your stomach wasn’t going nuts. 

“Wow, these smell amazing,” you said, scooping up a bite with the fork he passed you. You admired it, tilting it a few degrees in the light, then chomped down on it. 

The noise you made was downright unholy. Straight to the Second Circle with you, don’t even think about looking at the pearly gates of Heaven.

“Fuuuuck,” you keened as you immediately shoved another piece into your mouth. You savored the delectable meal with chubby cheeks, letting the sugary and fluffy delight overtake your senses. “This is so fuckin’ good.”

He cackled at your reaction as he finished cooking and styling up his own plate, ditching the eye-bleedingly ugly apron, and you realized a trice too late that you just stroked his ego considerably. “I didn’t know you could make those kinds of sounds,” he quipped. The sunlight pouring through a nearby window caught the lenses of his glasses when he slid into the seat beside you, making them glint the same way his eyes would if you could see them unobstructed. “Makes me wonder what other noises you can make.”

You almost choked on the pancake you were greedily wolfing down.

Okay, he was not allowed to say things like that while you were eating. And especially not in that voice, the one that lowered a couple octaves and had you squirming in your seat. Barely 10 minutes into the morning and you were already struggling to keep your composure around him.

You swallowed down your food stiffly and patted your sternum with a wee cough. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“You promised you’d let me use your hot spring first.”

“I can be patient!” Exclaimed the man who very much could not be patient.

You deadpanned, but your lips quivered as you tried to restrain a grin. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He moped like he was told he couldn’t go to the park today. “You’re so mean to me. How could you? And right after I graciously agreed to house you, too.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding about not letting you live that down.

To make up for it and bring the whiny baby back into a good mood, you let him have a few bites of your food, and he lit up like a damn firework, scarfing them down without a second thought. He had this sort of boyish charm that was difficult to resist in a way that made you want to tease and taunt him endlessly. His statuesque features certainly aided his charisma. 

“By the way,” Gojo began, speaking around a piece of syrup-covered strawberry from his own dish. “There’s someone I want to introduce to you later. You’ll like him.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. Was this the second ‘someone’ Granny mentioned the day before? You shuddered at the thought of dealing with two Satoru’s. You barely knew the first one, and he was already a handful and a menace. You chewed quickly and swallowed to answer.

“Is he anything like you?” You asked, doing your best to be ladylike and eat the way a normal person would. You weren’t really succeeding.

He grinned wide. “He’s the best! Second to me, of course.”

“That does not answer my question,” you pointed an accusatory fork at him.

“Pshh, don’t worry. He’s cool. Well, not as cool as me, but very close.”

That still didn’t answer your question. More so, it put you on edge. You were already mentally preparing to get acquainted with this potential twin, doppelgänger, and/or clone.

“Can you at least tell me his name?”

“Geto Suguru,” he responded.

Geto Suguru, huh?

Same initials as Gojo Satoru. Same amount of syllables, too.

You were so fucked, weren’t you? 

The thought of having two copies of the gremlin beside you had you preemptively putting your hands on your nape to ease the tension. Figuratively, but possibly literally, depending on if height was something they shared.

“Alright,” you said. “When do you want me to meet him?”

“Oh, the time will come, you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head.”

Well, if that wasn’t the most cryptic shit that definitely had you worrying your pretty little head. Asshole, he was doing that on purpose, confirmed by that cunning expression he had as he observed you with his temple resting on his fist, elbow on the counter. He liked toying with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He raised his brows. “Like what?”

“Like you’re planning some shit.”

Satoru pressed his fingers to his chest, feigning innocence. “Why, I’d never!”

He was absolutely planning some shit. All you could really do now was brace yourself for whatever was to come, though you were certain that no amount of readying yourself would keep you from getting swept off your feet. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

That was the wrong thing to say, considering he fucking swooned and tipped over, resting his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes, sighing like a schoolgirl. “I knew you thought I was handsome.”

You gave a long-suffering exhale and poked his cheek. “I said no such thing.”

“Yeah, but you looked it.”

“The hell does that even mean?”

“Just keep your eyes on me, pretty baby,” he directed and sat back up, reaching for his fork. “What’s on the agenda for you today?” He asked as he scooped up the rest of the syrup on his plate with the last bite of his food.

You coughed to cover your blush, grateful for the topic change. “Well, I guess take stock of all I’ll need to do with my house. I got a job at Granny’s store, so I’ll start working there in a few days.”

“Shit, really?” He gaped at you. “That fast?”

You nodded around your final piece of pancake, closing your eyes to savor the sublime flavor. You’d have to make him teach you to cook like that sometime, too.

A ‘whooh’ sound left him. “Impressive.”

“It’s weird,” you said. “Everything’s worked out so far, and I’ve barely been here for two and a half days. I’m getting suspicious.”

“Why?”

Your shoulders lifted and dropped. “Seems too good to be true. Gotta stay on my toes, y’know?”

Satoru ruffled your hair as he stood to stack your empty plates into the dishwasher. “You think too much, sweetheart.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Let me be paranoid.”

“You’ll just give yourself worry lines like that,” he cautioned, returning to press his index finger between your brows, “riiiight here. You gotta relax, princess. Chill out, do something fun.”

It was hard to, after spending so many years escaping metaphorical ghosts. Old habits die hard, you supposed.

He was right, you could really use a break from non-stop wariness. This was supposed to be a fresh start, after all. You washed your slate, unmarked of everything on purpose, keeping next to nothing but your name and the clothes on your back. No contacts, nobody waiting for you somewhere, no responsibilities or obligations holding you back. Who knew how long you’d get the chance to let go like this? Might as well take advantage of it.

You weren’t sure what would qualify as ‘fun’ here, but you were a new sprout, after all. What better way than to learn firsthand?

“Alright,” you agreed. “Recommend anything?”

“Hmm,” he lolled his head side to side. “Go to the bakery. It’s not far from Granny’s store, a couple streets north. Hard to miss, it’s got a big sign. We saw it on the way to Granny’s yesterday.”

You scratched through your memory, trying to remember exactly where it was. You had a fuzzy idea, but the benefit of living in such a small locale was that it wouldn’t be too difficult to find. “Will do, thanks. I’ll go after I check out my place first. I’ll need the emotional support after that.”

“Fair enough, I saw why,” he chortled. Oh, the exterior was nothing compared to the interior, sweet summer child. “You want a ride there?”

You considered it, then shook your head. “Nah, it’d be better for me to walk there to get more familiar with the town.”

“You sure?” He raised a brow, a teasing, lazy smirk crawling up his lips. “Won’t get lost?”

“Probably,” you snorted, “but experience is the best teacher, eh?”

He chuckled low in his throat. “If you do get lost, don’t be afraid to call me. I’ll be your prince in shining armor.” 

You made a ‘pffft’ noise and glared at him. He just smiled back like the dork he was. “It’s knight in shining armor.”

“Prince is better. I’m not some lowly knight.”

Drama queen. “Alright, whatever you say, prince. I’ll see you–” In the midst of slipping off the stool to get ready to leave, you stopped, remembering a key piece of information. “Hey,” you spoke up, rotating to scrutinize him with a squint. “How did you know my back door doesn’t have a lock?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My friends and I would go there on dares when we were younger. Believed it was haunted, dumb kid shit, you know how it goes.”

Oh.

That– yeah, that sounded way more plausible and understandable than whatever ghost stories about kidnappers and serial killers you came up with. But he still could have phrased it better than he did, he didn’t have to go creepy-mode to convince you to stay with him for the time being.

“Why?” He chortled. “Thought I was gonna kidnap ya?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically, scratching the spot behind your ear sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

He snickered at your expense, bending down and lowering his voice into a rumbling murmur. “You never know. Maybe I will.”

“Har har,” you replied flatly. “Very funny.”

His lips curled further, eyes gleaming behind his shades. “Better keep your guard up, princess. Someone might just come and snatch you up when you least expect it.”

You scoffed as you swiveled and headed towards the front door. Satoru followed you in a way that reminded you of a puppy, or a mischievous cat, observing you as you tugged on your shoes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can scream really loud.”

“And if they cover your mouth?”

“I bite,” you grinned toothily.

He crooned. “I’ll keep that in mind. You sure you don’t need a ride?”

“I’ll be fine,” you dismissed his uncertainty and double checked your purse as you put it on. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Ah, wait, before you go,” he halted you, reaching out to search through a bowl on the console table pushed up to the wall. After a second or two of digging around, he pulled out a key attached to a ring and held it out to you. “Here, in case nobody’s home when you get back.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your palm, evaluating its untarnished sheen. “Thanks,” you tucked it away safely into a pocket in your purse. “Is it new?”

“Just a spare,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Put it to good use, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed.

He patted your head and you scowled at him. “I’ll be awaiting your call for when you need to be rescued.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as you opened the door and stepped out of it. “Dream on.”

His rolling laughter was the last thing you heard as you closed it behind you. The purity of the air awed you again. It was like a medium between you and nature, tickling every one of your senses. There was this certain liberating power in this valley, one that swelled behind your heart and spread out like hot tea on a cold winter morning.

It swirled in your stomach and radiated from your chest in time with your pulse, lulling and salving. Why had you never considered going to the countryside before? 

You were a city-hopper, bouncing from metropolitan hellscape to metropolitan hellscape, where the streets of downtown reeked of anything sickly, apartments were expensive to rent, and you only ever felt like a side character.

Restaurants there were always jam-packed, cafés were less of early day respites and more places of palpable depression. The bars were grimy and boozy, ear-piercingly loud and sweltering with the body heat of dozens of people pressed too tightly together, but at least they were good for one thing.

They were good for shutting down your brain. When it got too loud and too full, when the alcohol burned too much and the people were too touchy, that was when you went into autopilot and thrived in the bliss of silence created by the endless droning of the bass vibrating from your feet to your scalp. You hated liquor, just the thought of it made you queasy, but you craved the buzz it gave you back then.

You didn’t have that luxury now, but you didn’t need it. You hadn’t so much as thought about partaking in that vice since moving, actually. Had you known about the kind of life you could find here, you would have ditched the neon streets a long time ago.

The placidity of mostly untouched vegetation and of the tightly knit community provided a different kind of solace, one that distracted you with things far more interesting than paranoia and anxiety-driven overthinking.

You didn’t feel lost here. Not in the metaphorical sense. Literally had yet to be seen. It remained unfamiliar, but your panic had smoothed out from the first steps you had taken off the train. You could breathe without feeling like there were matches being held too close to your lungs, or needles aimed at your heart.

You didn’t hold onto hope, though. The pattern remained the same. Once you got used to this place, you’d hop on the next train and be on your less-than-merry way.

Will I ever stop running? You asked yourself frequently.

Nobody ever answered.

That’s alright. For now, you were okay. 

Choosing not to indulge in those ideologies, you followed the curving road back down the incline, noting that the car Ijichi had brought you in was gone. You’d need to find a way to thank him, as well as Granny. You didn’t like being indebted to people, especially if it put you at risk of getting tied down.

Satoru was a different problem entirely, since he was letting you live with him. Chores, rent, maybe another thing or two to keep the score level. You weren’t great on brainstorming ideas on how to return favors, but you’d figure it out. A good walk always helped make the creative juices flow.

You ruminated on who he wanted to introduce you to later, coming up with ideas about what he might be like. Hopefully a counterpart and not a duplicate, you weren’t sure how much you’d be able to handle if that was the case. 

If he was friends with Satoru, though, the likelihood of him driving you insane in one way or another was highly likely.

“I bet he’s disgustingly handsome, too,” you muttered cattily under your breath. “I’m gonna see him and the last brain cells I have are gonna explode.”

It didn’t help that you had no idea when you were going to meet this ‘Geto Suguru’. Would you have time to anchor yourself mentally? Would it be today, or a week from now? Could you even prepare at all?

Ugh.

Satoru was right, you thought too much.

As you roamed around, the shrine caught your eye once more, and you stopped to take it in. You hadn’t been to a shrine before – not this kind, anyway. The bigger ones in Tokyo didn’t count. You vaguely remembered how to pray, though you weren’t sure if you should. Paying respects, though, that was fine.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, debating. In the end, it wasn’t a hard choice. You would take any chance to procrastinate and delay facing the disaster awaiting you as much as you could. Except for the bakery Satoru recommended, you were saving that for after you made a plan for your house. You figured you’d want to stress eat afterwards to balm your troubled heart.

Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d have the time to visit after you got started on everything. You had a few days to use up, why not use them to check things out?

The trail leading up to it was easy to find, and though clearly well-traveled and requiring some exertion to traverse, it was clear that it was loved. The flowers on either side of the path were tended to with a compassionate hand, blooming and fragrant. You took a break on several occasions just to sniff a few, admiring them. 

Usually, you were picky about flowers. 

Most were less redolent and more bitterly pungent for you, such as roses. They were elegant, no doubt, but their scent always bordered on perfume-y in a way that reminded you more of an old folks’ home rather than pleasant and subtle beauty. Generally, florid notes made your face scrunch up like you ate something unexpectedly sour.

These flowers were just right, though. They still had those floral undertones, of course, but presented salubrious and fruity essences atop it. It made you mull over why every other flower you smelled before wasn’t palatable. 

Soon, the shrine entrance was in clear view. You traced your finger along the edge of a petal one last time before standing up from your squatting position and making your way over to it. The tower itself was mostly vertical in terms of size, decently small in contrast to the typically larger ones scattered about Japan, but it fit in perfectly with everything else here.

There were two stone benches on either side of the archway leading in, pressed up to the sturdy cobblestone foundation, and lanterns situated at the corners of both, reminding you of a few animated movies with similar designs you’d seen in the past. They were slightly shaded, turned a few degrees away from the sun, and you imagined it would be nice to read there and watch the sun fall asleep beyond the horizon.

The doors were open, guarded by dog-like statues, a bit crudely carved out. Satoru had mentioned it was a shrine dedicated to the wolves that used to roam the mountains, so the statues were likely meant to resemble them. You were curious about the interior, wanting to see the altar up close, since each place of prayer had their own uniquely made one, but the sight of a person clad in white and red kneeling in front of said altar within had you nixing that idea. You could do it another time.

She must have noticed your approach as her head lifted and she peeked partially over her shoulder. She rose up and rotated to face you, and you withheld your exasperation.

Right, this was just fucking ridiculous now, what the fuck.

Why was there another criminally attractive person in this godsforsaken valley? You got scammed, you wanted your money back. Everyone here was so out of your league, you felt like the dog that caught the baseball bat after it’s thrown rather than a player in the game. What, was there going to be an additional good-looking person, ready to knock the wind out of you?

Probably Geto.

If any of these people told you to get down on your knees and bark, you would have without question.

Seriously, why?

You should have been relishing existing in the presence of so many charming folks, but in reality, it just made you feel self conscious.

“Hello,” she greeted as she walked over to you, bringing you out of your internal raging monologue. “May I help you?”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes and stammered minutely, trying to recollect yourself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I just wanted to see the shrine.”

The shrine maiden’s lips tilted up politely. “You’re fine, don’t worry. Are you a tourist?”

“No,” you fidgeted with your thumb and index finger on your right hand. “I moved here recently. I’m checking around to get more acquainted with the area.”

Her brows rose a millimeter short of being comical. “Really? That’s surprising. Did one of the villagers leave that I didn’t know of?”

“Also no. I bought the house on the outskirts, uhh,” you twisted to scan behind you and pointed in the general direction of it. “That way.”

“That house? I thought they’d torn it down a long time ago. Why that one?”

You lowered your arm. “It was cheap. Gave me an excuse to move here properly.”

“I hope you’re not staying there, it’s dangerous,” she frowned, using a stern yet caring voice.

“I’m staying with Gojo Satoru while I fix it up.”

Immediately, the woman’s face twisted into a sneer of repulsion. Scorn shadowed over her honey-brown eyes, causing yours to widen as hers narrowed. “Run away while you still can,” she told you firmly. 

Well, that’s not worrisome at all.

What the hell did he do to her?

“What? Why?” Your brows furrowed.

She sighed as if the mere mention of Gojo had stripped a few years off her lifespan. “He’s the devil in disguise.”

Was anyone ever going to give you a straight answer about him? “Did he…do something?”

Her scorn turned to ire and agitation in a snap. “He’s so obnoxious! And arrogant, I can’t stand to be around him, he pisses me off to no end,” she downright snarled, heat rising to her cheeks from her anger. “He acts all high and mighty when he’s just a spoiled brat that refuses to respect his elders!”

“Oh–”

“Me!” She pointed harshly at herself. “I’m his elder! Well, I mean, not the only one, but still! He was raised like a golden child, given everything he wanted. He loooves getting on everyone’s nerves, especially mine. Get away from him or he’ll send you to an early grave, miss.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you came to view the shrine, but a rant from a peeved miko definitely wasn’t anywhere on your list of possibilities. His name alone sent her into a tailspin, and you would have regretted it if seeing her go off about the man wasn’t more entertaining than it had any right to be. You did feel bad, but madly interested, too.

“I…see,” you reacted stiltedly, stifling a laugh. “Are you, like, exes or something?”

She gaped at you as if you had informed her of her puppy’s passing. “What? No! Absolutely not! I– how could– never even mention–” She abruptly stopped herself, took a few intensely deep breaths to calm herself, then she was smiling kindly again as if nothing had happened. “Where are my manners? I’m Iori Utahime, a miko. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you are?”

Left reeling from her unexpected 180 in demeanor, you stuttered out your own name in response, to which she nodded in approval.

“A lovely name. You said you moved here recently? How fun! What brought you to this valley?”

Satoru had several questions to answer for the next time you saw him. If you had a notepad and pen, you would have been writing them down like a P.I., bobbing your head with a solemn face as you asked Iori to recount her history of events.

“I came to study abroad in Tokyo a few years back, and fell in love with the country,” you said. “I’m not big on cities, though, so coming here seemed perfect.”

Maybe you were embellishing your story a bit, but in all fairness, you didn’t know her. Besides, clean slate; you had no story before this, why not paint one now that you had the freedom to?

You weren’t going to whip up some grand tale about how you were this astonishingly intelligent, leading programmer in your country that did impressive work for science (that was your mother), but it didn’t hurt to fib the truth a small amount. The part about studying abroad was true, anyway.

She appraised you with an interested visage. “I see, I see. Where are you originally from?”

Man, people loved asking that, huh?

It’s not like you could blame them, you’d do the same in their place. You were a foreigner, they were going to treat you like one.

“Ah,” you told her of your place of origin. “It’s nothing special. I mostly traveled.”

“Oh? How did you make money?”

“Freelance,” you answered. “Odd jobs here and there, enough to keep myself afloat. Have you traveled before, Iori-san?” 

You could see the overjoyed spark in her eyes that someone was finally respecting her. “Only within the country,” she responded, somewhat somber. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like outside Japan.”

You tilted your head back to see the sky and think of suggestions. What do the stars look like here? “Depends on where you go. Some places are very packed and have lots of things to do no matter where you go, like Europe. Other places are more sparse, like the States.”

“But the States have more people,” the woman pointed out.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, “but that country is massive and people there tend to group into major cities, rather than be spread out. California is technically bigger than the entirety of Japan, but has way less people.”

Her eyes bulged in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep. It’s why you might hear Westerners say ‘there’s nothing to do here’,” you glanced at the structure behind her. “You guys revere wolves here, right?”

Utahime clapped her hands twice eagerly. “That’s correct! How’d you know?”

Based on her reaction to you merely mentioning Satoru, you figured it’d be best if you didn’t tell her the source of your information. “I’ve heard about it. I was curious, I haven’t been to a smaller shrine like this one before. Only the bigger ones in Tokyo, but those were part of my assignments, rather than for leisure.”

“Oh, it’s not much,” she espied at it from over her shoulder, but you could see the pride in her eyes. It was well taken care of, with love and chariness. It easily passed off as something constructed more recently, given its meticulous maintenance.

“How long ago was it built?”

“Around the same time the settlers first came here.”

This time, your eyes were the ones that opened wide. It had to have been at least 350 years old in that case, based on a rough estimate. “That far back? Wow, it’s in seriously good shape.”

The woman puffed up her chest. “Though the wolves have long since died out here, we still honor them. They helped us with hunts and allowed this village to thrive when we needed it most. They protected us from cursed spirits, as well. It’s only right we treat them and the bounties they’ve given us with respect.”

Oh, there was that term again: cursed spirits. “Could you tell me more about cursed spirits?”

Enthusiasm bubbled up in her the way it would in a child about to tell their parents about the story they wrote up. She skipped over to one of the stone benches and plopped down onto it, patting the spot beside her. You slid onto it, a chill shooting up your spine from the cold temperature. Being shaded from the sun made the rock gelid, go figure.

“Now! Let’s start from the beginning as we know it,” she cleared her throat and took on the role of a teacher. “The origin of cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcery as a whole is largely unknown. It’s speculated that spirits have lived alongside humanity from the beginning of it, as cursed energy is formed by negative emotions, and cursed energy is what spirits are born from.”

She was very animated when teaching, you noticed. Lots of hand movements, facial expressions, and a bouncy attitude to boot. It made for a very entertaining show, and did well to keep you engaged.

“Curses were invisible to humans. Only a select few could see them, and even fewer could actively interact with them in some way or another,” she continued. “Smaller curses would typically leech off of people without them knowing it, feeding off their bad emotions. Stronger curses, however, could be incredibly powerful. Sometimes to the point of standard weapons being completely useless against them, which is why jujutsu sorcery came to fruition. We needed some way to fight back against the spirits, so we developed a way to do just that by manipulating the natural reserves of cursed energy we had within us.”

Folklore from other countries always captivated you. From the creator of mankind in some Chinese mythos named Nüwa, to the counterpart of the equivalent of Santa in Germany, the origin of Halloween and turnip lanterns – even the oddly terrifying ones without nefarious intentions, like Mari Lwyd.

You adored hearing about legends, stories, and tales passed down through oral and written history over the centuries of life existing in each respective land. To say she had you hooked would be an understatement.

What were curses like? Assuming they were real, of course, and that jujutsu sorcery didn’t follow the same ideology as hanging witches. Were they ugly? Bipedal? Humanoid at all? 

“Many natural disasters are blamed on curses, even to this day,” she began lifting her fingers as she counted off a few examples. “Earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts. Pretty much anything you can think of.”

“Were they kinda like demons?”

“Eh,” she tilted her hand side to side a few times. “Yes and no. Depends on who you ask, really. They could be different from demons of hell, or they could be one and the same.”

“I see,” you pinched your chin. “So, where’d they go, then?”

She grasped one of her pigtails, running her fingers through the open and loose portion at the top of it. “Nobody really knows. Some think that sorcerers were able to eradicate them at the source, and died off since they weren’t needed anymore. It could be that the curses have simply lost power due to the progression of mankind, and particularly therapy, though it’s…still kind of taboo. Some claim they’re still around, we just don’t notice because we aren’t able to see any of it.”

Satoru’s words on the matter echoed in your mind. ‘Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me.’

You bit your cheek to hold back an unwitting snicker. Leave it up to Satoru to say some brazen shit and have it pop up in your head at random.

“What about you? What do you think?” You asked.

Utahime flicked a piece of invisible dirt off the front of her hakama. “I believe they exist. It’s part of why I’m a miko, and one of the reasons I maintain this shrine. It’s my duty. Curses may not be the same now as they were back then, but that’s no reason for me to slack off. Complacency breeds contempt.”

It was heartwarming, in a way, to see someone still holding onto traditions like these, working to keep her friends, family, and home safe, upholding the rules within and outside places of prayer. You admired her for it.

Not that you would personally want to be a shrine maiden, but you held them in high esteem nonetheless.

“And you?” She peered at you. “Do you believe in the supernatural?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, stretching your legs in front of you and idling back on your hands. “I’m agnostic, neither here nor there. I respect spaces that are considered sacred, I’d rather not get hexed, but I don’t go out of my way to hunt down, let’s say, ghosts.”

“I commend you, many could stand to learn a thing or two from you,” as she spoke, she stood up and brushed off the back of her kosode. “You are good company, though I fear I should get back to work soon.”

“Ah,” you got up as well and bowed to her. “Thank you for sharing your stories with me, Iori-san. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

She waved her hand. “You didn’t, don’t worry. Come visit me again soon, okay? I’d love to hear stories of your travels as well.”

“Sure,” promised easily, more than content to exchange tales with her. “Stay safe.”

“Likewise,” the noirette disappeared back into the shrine with a final word of parting, leaving you to your devices.

While you didn’t get to see the altar inside, you considered the visit worthwhile, and got a new acquaintance out of it, too. You could come back to check it out another day.

Having burned through all the reasonable amount of procrastination time you allowed yourself, you voyaged back down the path, appreciating the blooms the whole way down the same way you had when you went the other way. You had to ask Utahime if she was the one tending to them next time you saw her.

You were proud to say that you only got lost twice. But you did find the bakery on the way, and memorized where it was once you located the path home. Not bad, not bad at all. You managed to find your way around, and you didn’t need to embarrass yourself by calling Satoru to come to your rescue.

It’s sad how low your standards for happiness had fallen, but you’d take any crumb of serotonin you could find.

You noticed the trip to your house was shorter whenever you actively didn’t want to go there, as if it was a living creature that purposefully made you arrive faster, just so you had to give it attention.

It stood, looming, mocking you. Taunting you, the monstrosity. What an asshole.

The outside matters came first, the less time you had to spend inside, the better. You pulled up the notes app on your phone and began the task of drafting everything you needed to deal with, denoting it as the ‘Outdoor’ section in your native tongue.

Fence, you typed down, scribbling sporadic thoughts as you went. Tear down? Repair? Replace?

You checked the ends and noted that the fence only went back about halfway into your property, leaving the back uncovered. Covers only front. Built like that? Collapsed/removed in the back? 

You felt the stalks of yellow-ish green leafage with your palm, the tips reaching your hips. Cut down grass and weeds. You should plant pollinator flowers if the yard was ever cleared out well enough. It’d be nice to have some butterflies and bees around to help everything grow nice and healthy. 

You lightly nudged a piece of a busted plant pot with the toe of your shoe. Dispose of broken pots. A slight stumble had you leering down to see a strangely shaped tile. You tilted your head in confusion, then peered up at the edge of the roof, deducing it was a shingle that had fallen off. You stepped further away from the roof, just in case. And fallen & loose shingles.

Rounding the side, you waded through the overgrown flora, poring over the condition of the rundown house’s environment. Remove ivy from walls. Set up trellises. Lattices to form a backyard/patio/garden/thing?

Angling your chin up, you placed your hand over your forehead and assessed the roof. From on the ground, you wouldn’t be able to completely acknowledge the damage done to it over the years it sat untouched, but you were reluctant to climb on it to see first hand. You didn’t have a ladder, for starters, and you liked having unbroken bones and working shins. 

Get a ladder.

The back of the estate was in the same condition as everything else. Which is to say, disheartening. 

“What’ve I got myself into…” You muttered.

You spotted a narrow garden plot built into the back of the house. Overgrown, yes, but it’d be perfect for planting stuff when you got it all cleared up.

It wasn’t a question of ‘if’, unfortunately. You had no other real choice besides mending what was left in your hands.

You were still miffed at the real estate agent. You likely wouldn’t have purchased this piece of land had you known what was ahead. Or if you were in a better state of mind, honestly, rather than being in the middle of your fight-or-flight phase of living.

“No good dwelling on the past,” you whispered to yourself as you circled back to the front. “Can’t change it now.”

You took a deep, long, full breath, enjoying the fresh and crisp air while you still could. You savored the temperate hints of nature and the clement weather, treating it like it would be your last time experiencing such comfort. You didn’t know if your nostrils (or you) would survive the excursion into hell you were about to go on, so you weren’t risking taking the breeze for granted.

Exhaling all in one big puff, you steeled your shoulders and pushed open your front door, your free hand covering your nose in anticipation. Replace hinges and/or front door.

It managed to punch you in the gut regardless. 

New section in your notes open, you got to work typing. The most obvious issues came first, such as the floors, the peeling walls, and exposed boning and pipes. A lot would possibly need to be replaced, such as the counters in the kitchen, cupboards…

Floor rotted(?) and sticky. Wash?

Spackle for holes in walls? New drywall instead?

Check insulation.

Your spirits fell more and more with each additional item of note you wrote onto the list. Could any of this be salvaged? Were you better off tearing it down?

Remove tatami. Replace? Don’t?

Stepping into what you assumed was the master bedroom, you made your way over to the sleeping bag you left behind and cautiously rolled it up, maneuvering around the grime stuck to it, and placed it against a corner. You’d toss it when you got the chance to.

M-bed closet missing doors and shelf.

Seeing the window, you tip-toed to it, hoping to open it to air out the room. Your nose formed bunny lines at the cobwebs littering the sill and edges. While there weren’t any spiders – as far as you could see – you still did not enjoy touching them in the slightest.

Pushing up from the center of the window proved to be futile, the frame wasn’t going to be budging anytime soon.

Windows stuck.

Remove spider webs.

There was litter here and there – torn pieces of paper, a ripped open baggie, fabric – that you decided to leave as is. Along with not having gloves to pry them off the ground, you didn’t have anything to throw them away into. They got to live another day.

Toss out trash.

The shower and bathroom had a cupboard tucked off to the side, but opening it showed the middle platform separating the top and bottom within was crumbly and would break if you put any weight on it.  Replace shelf in bathroom cupboard.

The tiles were all fucked up, too. Some were chipped, others were outright broken or missing. Rust had gathered around the tap and drain in the tub, likely from years of having a leaky faucet before it ran out of water to drip.

Clean out rust in bath/pipes. Throw away broken floor tiles. Replace.

You pulled the left handle of the sink faucet and waited for a few seconds to see if the plumbing was functional.

Which was a big, fat no.

Plumbing. Faucets.

Limescale on shower head, wall tiles.

You scrolled through what notes you had already created and chewed on the corner of your bottom lip, thinking of what else you might have needed to write down. You fixated blankly on the wall in front of you as you went over everything, then quickly typed out a few more things.

Electricity.

Check for asbestos, lead in paint.

You figured the tasks you needed to do would pop up as you went along, considering your notes to be a simple skeleton outline. You could jot down other things as needed, and work through them one by one.

Having done as much as possible while staying inside for as long as you could tolerate, you walked back outside and dug around in your purse for the piece of paper Granny had given you, the one with names and numbers of people that could help you in this endeavor.

To say you were beginning to panic would be an understatement. You already bought the damn thing, and doubted you’d be able to resell it and get all your money back. You also didn’t want to subject anyone to repairing the thing when it was both a health hazard and an embarrassment. 

You had some reserve money, but it wasn’t a whole lot, so you required that job Granny gave you.

Gojo said you could stay with him for however long you needed, but that was with the expectation that you’d leave once your house was fixed up. Given the village’s size, it was unlikely that you would find another place within it to live in, even after saving up some money working for Granny. You didn’t want to piggy-back off anyone and be an imposition; the only reason you felt less guilty about staying with the moon-haired idiot was due to the sheer amount of space he had in his mansion.

You were swiftly running out of options.

Your lips paled as you pressed them tightly together, trying to wrack your mind for ideas. You couldn’t sell it, and you didn’t want to deal with the humiliation of having strangers work for you. In such a small town, word spread like fire on a dry wick. Who knows what they would say about you?

Realistically, it wasn’t your fault, you knew this. The house hadn’t been built under your name and, hell, was likely older than you by at least a decade or two. It didn’t fall to ruin because of you, but you were the owner of this house now, the responsibility rested on your shoulders.

You read through the list of handymen under your thumb, the paper shaking slightly from the death grip you had on it.

Repairing it on your own was technically an option, but you would be basically begging for severe injuries or even death by attempting that. You wouldn’t even know where to start. Foundation? Floors? Structure? Roof? You didn’t fucking know how to do any of that shit!

…Or you could just burn the damn eyesore to the ground ‘til there was naught but ashes left.

No, that was a stupid idea, but you were out of any good ones.

The thought you had previously of tearing it down and buying a garden shed to reside in was feeling more and more tempting by the hour. It was unreasonable, you knew, you simply…didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

You were used to doing things alone. You relied solely on yourself, trusted only your own words and intentions. Letting people in was not something you did for many reasons. Maybe you did crave closeness and camaraderie at some point in the distant past, but the concept was out of the question entirely now. It made uncomfortable butterflies sit heavy in your stomach, the urge to vanish into the treelines and never be seen again increasing with each extraneous person you invited into your life.

You sighed. “I should have just moved into the woods and turned into a witch,” you grumbled low, then scoffed sardonically. “Right, as if I wouldn’t accidentally poison myself with a weird mushroom on day three and die a horrible, painful, slow death.”

The two lists you had remained in your somewhat reluctant hands. You knew you were way in over your head, and you’d probably unintentionally curse the house sooner than you managed to make a positive change, but…you weren’t used to asking for help. Always the type to manage shit on your own, get things done yourself, be independent. Could you really be faulted for having a hard time reaching out to anyone else?

Especially since you hadn’t even met any of them yet. That would be disconcerting, asking folks you’d never seen – let alone spoken to – before to work for you.

Your phone singed your fingers. You did know someone, and knew that he was just a phone call away, but did you really want to deal with him of all people? He would take this chance to rub it all in your face and then some.

You carefully weighed your choices.

Rebuild the house yourself with no former experience with anything beyond shitty popsicle stick bird huts.

Call someone on the list, explain your situation, and ask for help.

Call the prick.

…By the gods, you really hated making calls to people you didn’t know.

Shamefully carping to yourself, you dialed Satoru’s number, trying to ignore the contact name he had set up for himself. It was so glitzy, the ✨❤️ Satoru ❤️✨ sitting at the top of the call screen making you stifle a short laugh, ironically lifting your spirits. “Here goes nothing…”

He answered within three rings. “Yo, been a while, princess” Satoru purred as if you hadn’t seen him that morning, and you rolled your eyes, despite not being there in person for him to see.

“You greet every girl like that?”

“Nope, just you,” you could hear his grin. “Whatcha need?”

Now came the part where you set aside your pride and voiced what you very much did not want to. Again. You’d known this man for barely 24 hours and he already had several wins over you. In…whatever game you decided you were losing. “Look, I…I need your help.”

“Oho? What’s this? Is the princess finally admitting how much she misses me?” 

Smug dick.

“I did not say that,” you immediately berated him.

He simply hummed, unaffected. “Same thing.”

You ran your hand down your face, already exasperated just 30 seconds into the call. “You– ugh, just, can you help me or not?”

“Depends on what you need, sugar plum. Did ya get lost already?”

This man was going to be the cause of your madness. The bridge of your nose ached where you pinched it. “Granny gave me a list of people to call to help me with my house and I really don’t want to call any of them.”

“Then don’t.” 

“And, what, do everything by myself?”

You could envision him shrugging. “Why not? I could help you.”

“Satoru, I trust a wild forest fire more than I trust you with a hammer.”

“Ouch,” he sucked air through his teeth, faux whimpering. “You’re such a bully. Fine, I’ll help you with contacting everyone.”

Oh, that took less fighting and groveling than you expected. You exhaled in relief. “Thank you–”

“On,” he interrupted you, “one condition.”

There it is.

Your skin began to sting as you dug your nails harder into it, leaving curved indents between your eyes. “Y’know what, I think I’ll be fine–”

“Ah-ah-ah, hang on a second there, pretty girl. Hear me out.”

Conceding, you sighed and urged him to make his request. “Fine, what is it?”

"Cook something for me,” he requested. “Consider it evening the score.”

Your face scrunched up into a question mark. “Wait, that’s it?

“What, do you want it to be more?”

“No, no, I can do that,” you quickly declined, biting on the edge of your thumbnail as you tried to think of something to prepare for him. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Sweets.”

Sweet stuff. Okay, you could work with that. You could bake some pretty killer macarons. You didn't know what ingredients he had at home, or how to operate his oven, but you'd just figure it out, right?

“Alright, I can do that,” you answered.

“We have a deal, then?”

You took a moment to consider. You could back out, but your introverted personality made that notion null. It was only baking, too, rather than the ghastly demand you were expecting him to make. Baking it is. “Deal.”

“Great! We’ll be over in a flash!~”

“Okay–” wait. “‘We’–?”

He hung up before you could ask. You groaned and contemplated smashing your phone against the ground, but decided against it. You needed the thing, unfortunately.

Since you had to wait for however long, you chose to add in some thoughts to what you’d already written down, brainstorming how you wanted to proceed. It was difficult to tell at this stage, before you started on anything. But you could pick out what you might want to plant; flowers, vegetables, a fruit tree or two. So what if you were fantasizing? It helped keep you calm. Escapism was a valid coping mechanism.

It was too hard to picture anything given the state of the house, though. You’d need to snip down the field first and go from there, when you could see everything clearly.

How much did contractor services cost in Japan? What about the people Granny knew, how much did they charge? What kind of services did they provide? Your toe tapped repeatedly as you stepped outside your fence, trying not to pace.

Would you need one, or multiple? Were you going to have to get materials from the nearby city by yourself, or would they do that? If the former, how?

“I need an adult,” you lamented, your shoulders slouching and arms folding over your chest. “I wanna die. I’m not mature enough for this shit.”

You recalled what your mother told you often when you were younger: ‘not everything at once.’

Easier said than done. Sleep on it, one step at a time, break it down into shorter tasks, nothing was taking the edge off your stress.

“I’ll just start with the grass,” you muttered, eventually succumbing to the need to pace. “I have to start somewhere, and I’ll need to get rid of that before anything else can be done. Oh, but, fuck, there’s so much of it…not to mention debris, rocks…do they still make scythes? Can’t launch a pebble with a scythe. No, wait, that’d be so much more effort and take more time…”

A flicker of alabaster down the road caught your eye, halting your hurried back-and-forth roving and hushed bleating.

Satoru was always easy to spot from a distance. It was hard not to see him when his hair redirected the sun like a mirror, blinding anyone who saw him from the wrong angle. He was the angel on your shoulder with the personality of the devil, urging you to dive into your most heinous and blasphemous thoughts. The light bouncing off his head created a glowing aura around it, resembling a silver halo, further pushing that deceptive angel motif.

Would the halo turn gold in the light of the crimson rays of fading day?

You uncrossed your arms, ready to greet him, only to notice the man beside him. They were conversing, and the latter must have said something funny, as the former guffawed hysterically. It echoed off the mountains on either side of the valley, reaching you with no concern for distance. 

Did such bellows reach across the entire settlement, or was it localized, feeling louder than it actually was due to an echo chamber effect?

Gojo’s cachinnation dissipated when the pair were close enough to you, at which point he waved his hand high in the air to greet you avidly, like you weren’t only 20 feet from them.

“Hey! Didn’t keep ya waitin’ too long, did we?”

Truthfully, the fifteen or so minutes you had been waiting for them had gone by in a flash when you were so deeply buried in your spiraling thoughts while remembering dumb shit sprinkled into your internal ranting. The only evidence of your anticipation for their arrival being the barely present ache in your heels from where you rested most of your weight on them.

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

‘This one’ was breathtaking.

His midnight hair caught the sunlight in a scintillating iridescence that shifted between the deepest phthalo blue you’d ever seen and a mesmerizing sheen of violet when the light caught it just right, like the feathers of a raven. It struck you how glossy and luxuriously silky it was, and you wanted to pull it out of the high bun he kept it in to run your fingers through it endlessly. That one loose section of his bangs that hovered over his eye was just so cute, your digits itched to tug on it.

And, speaking of, those eyes. 

Sharp enough to cut diamonds and make you stand straighter. Heat rose to your cheeks as he observed you, head cocked to the side with a smooth and sweet smile that absolutely melted your insides like soft-serve ice cream, lily-livered and defenseless against the blazing sun incarnate in the form of a man.

They were dark, yet warm; a rich chocolate in hue that you could swear had flecks of gold within and rings of wisteria coiling around his abyssal pupils.

He was tall and foreboding, just like Satoru, but in a completely different fashion. He was the radiant Sol, pacifying and precious heat licking at your skin, soothing away the frostbite of winters long past. 

Beside him stood the Moon, reflective and brilliant and so goddamn cocky that it made your cheeks hurt – whether from biting the insides of them to hide back a smile, or to prevent yourself from smacking that shameless attitude out of him, you didn’t know. It didn’t matter. 

Satoru’s pearly locks contrasted sharply with Suguru’s obsidian lace, providing a striking visual. These godly beings towered over you, imposing and otherworldly and too good to be true, yet you knew your imagination could never come up with men like them.

And you?

You poor, dear, sweet, dumb little lamb. A pathetic speck caught in the gravity they created. Two black holes, eager to suck you in and rip you to shreds, and you were tempted to let them, practically falling into them without their overwhelming influence affecting you.

Their presence, their power, their very existence that demanded you drop to your knees to worship and beg like the tragic whore you were dominated your consciousness, filling it with fantasies you hadn’t experienced in…gods, ever. Nobody exuded the same aura they did, nobody made you weak-kneed and left you aching between your thighs, not like this. They created a desire in you that you wanted to have fulfilled – needed, even.

The pop of your knuckle in your fist that you had subconsciously created managed to snap you from your revere and back into the present, reminding you that, perhaps, you should do something, rather than drool like an idiot. 

You’ve gone fucking crazy. That was it, the last straw, the last hauntingly magnificent person. Why, oh, why did you move here?

With no small amount of embarrassment at the realization that your panties were a bit more damp than they were a minute ago, you clenched your jaw hard enough to anchor yourself, and made a mental note to get rid of the problem between your legs as soon as you were alone and could succumb to the pleasure, the yearning, you hadn’t experienced in ages.

As well as pretend it wasn’t caused by them, the iconic duo that had you in a mental fit.

Hoping you hadn’t made a total fool of yourself, you turned and bowed respectfully, saying your name in return as you stared at the ground in an attempt to clear your mind of the filth it created on its own, unprompted. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Geto-san.”

Suguru studied you for a few seconds (don’t look at me like that, please, I’m begging you, spare me), then faced the male beside him with an amused expression. “Are you sure this is the same girl you were telling me about? The brat?”

Oh, heavens, that voice.

Fire exploded across your cheeks and pooled deep in the lower pits of your stomach when you heard him say that word; enunciate it clearly, croon it in that damned tone that had electricity jolting up your spine.

Not now, slut. Focus.

It was significantly easier to ignore the unholy fantasies plaguing your sanity when you centered all that pent up energy into being annoyed at Satoru, questioning your already questionable friendship when you learned of what he called you in private. Your eyes narrowed into an icy glare, primed and deadly. To your agitation and further chagrin, he only smirked boyishly at you.

“That’s the one,” he replied with a widening grin as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“She's far too polite,” Geto countered.

Satoru snorted. “Trust me, she's a spitfire.”

“Is that so…” The onyx-haired man bent down to come closer to your face, and your breath hitched in your throat, refusing to come out properly. His scent embraced you. Mild, pleasant, like warm chai and jasmine, making your muscles instinctively loosen.

His eyes softened into closed curves as he beamed at you. You really hoped he couldn't read your mind. There was nothing holy or sane in there.

“Your name is lovely as is,” he murmured as his voice lowered into a roguish octave, “but I think I have a better one in mind.”

“W-What?” Your own vocal cords strained just to get the one word out in a wimpy squeak, and of course you just had to stutter. Whereas the air Satoru emitted naturally made you want to tackle him to the ground, Suguru’s wrapped around you like wisps of incense smoke, soothing and gently demanding your obsession with its fragrance. It inexplicably made you want to thaw into a puddle, to give him your full and undivided focus.

His canines peeked through from the way his lips curled further, entertained by your sudden timidness. He remained quiet, merely viewing your reactions as he lifted a hand to loop a strand of your hair around his finger and by the gods, don’t look at his fingers and how long and big they are and how perfect they’d feel–

“Angel,” the man said, practically cooing it at you.

You stifled a croak, verbally cuffed out of your totally, positively, very wholesome thoughts. “What?”

If you could die from embarrassment and be let out of this hell hole, you’d keel over on the spot when he simpered. “Angel,” he so graciously repeated for you. “I believe it suits you quite well. Wouldn’t you say so, Satoru?”

Satoru was having the time of his life, you were sure of it. You could feel him staring into you, see that stupid sexy fucking smile on his face from the corner of your eye as he teased you and, shit, why were you in the middle of this? Had you committed some heinous sin? Was this your punishment? 

“I don’t know,” he hummed in deliberation. “I prefer bunny. Or mochi.” 

“Mochi?” You and Suguru questioned at the same time, swiveling to regard the alabaster man.

Gojo nodded. “Small, probably tastes sweet, squishy.”

“Squishy?” You gaped incredulously, relocating your befuddled scrutiny to Geto when he burst out into laughter.

“I can see it,” Suguru coincided, earning himself a pretty nasty glare, too.

You groaned and tilted your face up, pleading with the sky to give you strength. “Don’t you start, too. One Satoru is enough, thanks.”

He hummed and smirked, something mischievous twinkling in his eyes. You didn't like that countenance. Not one bit. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” he bowed his head towards you, changing the subject. Thank fuck. “You moved here recently, yes?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed, molling the racing of your heart that was just a few beats short of being uncomfortable. “Technically the night before yesterday.”

“You had a safe trip, then, I hope?”

You sent the stone stepping path partially hidden by the overgrown grass a particularly scathing grimace. “I almost ate shit and died on my own porch, but I did, yes.”

His husky laugh was messing up your insides. “Glad you’re in one piece. It was the stepping stones, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, oh, my god. They’re out to kill me, I swear.”

“They’ve gotten me a couple times, too. It’s good to see this house will finally be getting some love.”

“I think you’re the only person that’s been positive about this so far,” you scratched your cheek with your index finger. “Everyone else has told me it’s grossly dangerous. Wish I’d known that before I skimped out on finding a place to stay for the first night…”

Suguru’s browline furrowed in disquietude. “You slept in there?”

You exhaled harshly and hung your head. “Don’t remind me.”

“You aren’t feeling sick, are you?”

You shook your head and patted his arm reassuringly. “No, just humiliated.”

His expression relaxed, the hardness in his deep maroon eyes tempering. “That’s good. If you do feel ill, don’t brush it off. Excess activity can worsen your health and prolong sicknesses.”

Aww, a mother hen? He was in your good books now, you felt all fluffy, being cared for by him. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Satoru pushed his way between you two, resting one arm on Suguru’s shoulder and the other on your head, coveting your attention. “So, what’s the plan, mochi?”

“Good question,” you said.

There was a brief pause, as if you were all waiting for someone else to speak, before he leaned down towards you. “Well?”

“What?”

“The plan? What’s the plan?” He lifted a brow. 

“Oh,” you darted your eyes between them. “Oh, no, I don’t have one. I just said it’s a good question.”

Suguru frowned. “Nothing at all?”

You pulled up your notes app and scrolled through it. “I guess cut the lawn, and call up the folks on Granny’s list for starters.”

“Can I see her list?”

“Mm,” you held out the paper to him, cringing when you saw how your fingers wrinkled the corner of it out of stress.

A crease in his forehead formed, deepening the more names he read, making you nervous. On top of how nervous you were already feeling. You were nervous-squared now.

“What is it?” You asked.

“It’s nothing. Just…I don’t think any of these guys will have enough free time to help you out. Not for a while, anyway,” he returned the sheet to you. “However, I grew up assisting them, so I know a thing or two. Mind if I go inside?”

Well, if that wasn’t soul crushing. “If you have a gas mask, go ahead. The smell inside could knock out a grown man. I don’t want to trouble you, though.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ve been needing something to do these days, this could be the perfect excuse for me,” he assured you. “I’ll be quick.”

“Oh– hang on, there might be asbestos in there,” you warned.

“There isn’t,” he assured confidently.

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Huh? Were you there when this house was built? Didn’t think so.”

Suguru leveled him with a vacant lour. “Asbestos wasn’t used in the construction of any houses here. Besides being expensive to import, our village was constructed with traditional methods. This building was Western inspired, but it wasn’t built with Western methods.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, nervously picking at a spot on your forearm. “Who built it?”

“From what I know, it was someone from either Kobe or Osaka that visited a state in America on vacation and fell in love with the architecture. First thing they did when they came back was buy this plot of land and build an imitation house on it,” he answered.

“Why’d they leave?”

He raised a hand, then dropped it in a half-shrug. “Any number of reasons. Some of the older folks say that their spouse fell ill, and they had to return to the city. My mom says they moved out because they got sick of driving an hour and a half one way to get to work every day. Dad says their sister gave birth and they had to return and assist her since she worked full time. Who knows.”

“Eh?” Satoru’s expression twisted into one of confusion. “I thought the owner just died or something. Hence why the house is haunted.”

“The house isn’t haunted, Satoru. Don’t scare her.”

You cracked your knuckles one-by-one. “If it is haunted, I’m gonna give that realtor hell. He promised it wasn’t. He also promised it hadn’t been touched in only ten years, so he’s already on my list,” you growled, then deflated and wilted. “I suppose I’m not in any rush, I’ll need to save up anyway. I’m bumming off Satoru for now, but I don’t wanna prolong that.”

“I already told you,” he patted your upper back. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Satoru. I really owe you,” you said. I hate owing people. “Oh– be careful, Geto-san.”

He gave a pacifying hand wave as he pushed past your open gate, heading towards your house. Satoru hopped up and hurried after him. “Oi, wait up! I wanna see, too!” 

“Satoru, you’ve already been in there before,” Suguru reminded him as you followed them about halfway, wanting to steer clear of the inside for a while.

Satoru twisted the door knob and pushed inwards. “Yeah, when we were kids. Imagine how much it’s changed!”

“I doubt it’s changed much,” their voices grew muffled and eventually silent to you as they disappeared into your home.

You began counting in your head. If they were gone for more than two minutes, you were going to assume they died. Then you could officially label the house as haunted and hunt that realtor’s ass down. After you set up a prayer altar for the boys who so bravely sacrificed their lives for you, obviously, they deserved that at the very least.

You’d have to check with the villagers to see if either of them practiced any particular faith to ensure you provided the correct funeral services for them, and to know if you needed to follow any specific spiritual rules when it came to the deceased.

Should you leave their bodies in there? Probably not, no, but it wasn’t going to be you fishing them out. You were tiny compared to them, you wouldn’t be able to drag them out yourself, even if you wanted to and tried really hard.

Your peculiar funeral fantasies were cut off when Suguru came back outside, still very much alive and well – from what you could tell.

“You lived,” you congratulated him.

“That I did,” he affirmed and stopped beside you, turning to face the house as his arms folded neatly.

“Is he still alive?”

“Last I checked, he was. I’m surprised he didn’t leave as soon as he went in. I think he’s trying to out-man me and impress you,” he teased, making you laugh.

Out came Satoru right then, dusting his hands off, acting like he did anything more than recce. “Alright, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which d’ya want first?”

“Good news,” you requested apprehensively.

He clapped his palms together. “Good news, the interior condition isn’t as bad as it seems.”

Well, that was good news. But you were wary to celebrate. “And the bad news…?”

“There are, indeed, a shit ton of spiders.”

You squealed, racing to hide behind Suguru’s tall frame. The man himself chuckled at your reaction, his arms still crossed over his chest as he tilted his head back to peer at you from over his shoulder, way too relaxed for the situation. “Not a fan of spiders?”

“Fuck no!” You cried out, clutching the back of his shirt in tight fists as you buried your face against his spine. “Fuck that! Burn the damn thing down!”

Gojo grinned darkly, eyes lighting up with mischief. “All you had to say, princess.”

The noiret (the only reasonable one among you) sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re not burning her house down.”

“Boo,” Satoru whined. “You’re no fun.”

“You aren't afraid of spiders?” You peeked around Suguru's arm to leer up at him, still using him as your shield.

“Nope.”

“You monster,” you hissed.

His best friend snorted. “Look on the bright side. It means he can get rid of spiders for you.”

You paused to consider his words, squinting up at the poised man you hadn’t let go of.

“Okay, nevermind, I take it back,” you declared, doing a complete flip in behavior, “you're my god, now, Geto-san.”

He showed you that shut-eyes smile that had hummingbirds dancing the tango in your stomach. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll protect you.”

Blush dusted your cheeks at his pledge and you averted your eyes. Having either of them in your field of view for too long was not good for your heart.

Satoru wouldn’t be Satoru if he didn’t go and embarrass you further. “Aww, she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” You barked back.

“I think it’s cute,” Geto’s cheek dimpled and you were flashbanged by the faces of not one, but two ethereal beings.

Mama, you thought, if you can hear me, send help. I don’t think I’m making it out of this one.

You gulped, the noise far too loud in your ears, and tried to subtly cover your face with your hand to retain some dignity while releasing Suguru’s shirt from your death grip. “A-Anyways, uh…should probably start calling people.”

“I’ll handle the calls,” Suguru announced, already pulling out his phone and dialing numbers. “I know these guys well. I’ll try to work something out with them.”

“Oh, you really don’t–” and there he went. You knew you asked for help, but you felt bad inconveniencing Suguru. Satoru, not so much.

“What’d I say about worrying?” Speak of the devil, the milk-haired boy bent down to your height and nudged his pointer finger between your brows. “Relaaaax, princess. It’ll work out.”

You worried your bottom lip as you watched the other man chatting some distance away. Detaching yourself from your perpetual anxiety was…difficult, to describe it in the least amount of words possible. Your guard was stuck to you, pinned, screwed, and soldered into place over time. Letting it go meant undoing years of work. 

It was there to shield you. You needed it to hold your untempered heart and keep it safe. If it got hurt, you weren’t sure you knew how to recover.

But you weren’t really letting them in by allowing them to help you, right?

Yet, as you sized up the small incline and the shack falling apart on top of it, you couldn’t shake the impression that the world was about to tilt on its axis. The tides were receding, tectonic pressure was increasing, the winds were stirring, and you were in the middle of it all. Mama, you reached out one last time. I think it’s too late.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[akaridream]

all the right buttons (college AU Goku & Vegeta x reader)

have y'all seen the figure from FuzzFeet Studios featuring our favorite boys gaming on the couch in the sluttiest little shorts? lemme say, i was feeling thirsty after I saw it for the first time. thus, this fic was born.

vegeta and goku both will get a part 2, choose your own adventure style (coming very soon!)

As you padded down the hall of Bulma’s apartment building, muffled male voices arguing rang through the walls. Your favorite chemistry study buddy had warned that her two roommates would be home while you did homework together, but you hoped the voices were from a neighboring unit. Your hopes were dashed when you stood in front of Bulma’s door and knocked, the voices now quite clear in the hallway.

“Hey! Pipe down you two! My friend is here and we need to get some work done!” Bulma’s voice interrupted. The door swung open with a whoosh, revealing the blue-haired bombshell. She rolled her eyes and shuffled you inside.

“Sorry about the boys, Goku found his old game system and they’ve been at it for a while,” she explained as you kicked off your shoes and dropped your backpack by the kitchenette table. “I was hoping they’d be wrapping it up by now but-”

“Oh don’t worry about it!” you said with a dismissive wave. “I grew up with two brothers, so they won’t bother me!"

Beyond the kitchen sat the infamous roommates, backs turned on the couch, facing a comically small CRT television in front of Bulma’s fancy flat screen. The tiny TV sat precariously on a mini fridge, and on the floor was the little gray console, one which you hadn’t seen in at least a decade. The chiptune soundtrack was nostalgic and familiar.

“Is that Tenkaichi Tournament 5?” you asked.

“Yeah!” came the chipper voice from the guy on the left, though his focus remained on the game. His black hair splayed in all directions and his blue tank barely covered his built shoulders.

Oh shit. These boys are fit, you thought.

The guy in blue’s arms were bulky and strong, intimidatingly so. And the blond guy was just as fine with a cut-up yellow racerback showing off the hard work he had put into his lats. With their backs turned, you shamelessly admired what you could see of them, salivating at the sight of their carved muscles.

Bulma elbowed you and lifted a brow, tilting her head in the direction of the guys. Your eyes grew large and you fanned your face, mouthing “Oh my god” to her. She grinned and nodded.

“This is my friend from chemistry I was telling you about!” Bulma yelled over the TV, hands on her hips.

The guy in blue paused their game and turned around, draping his arm over the back of the worn couch.

“Hi!” he said in a sweet voice, eyes bright and friendly behind a pair of black frames.

The blond gave him a dirty look for pausing the game. “Hello,” he offered over his shoulder.

“I’m Goku! Nice to meet you!” he said with a wave. “This is Vegeta. Sorry, he’s a little sour because he’s lost three rounds in a row!”

The blond scoffed. “I am not sour! You just keep spamming your super move and it’s fucking annoying!”

“Have you tried countering him with a block?” you asked. That got the blond’s full attention and he turned around to you with an incredulous expression.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

With a look at both of their faces, you weren’t sure who was more handsome. Goku had boyish good looks and a natural charm, complimented by his endearingly wild hair. Vegeta resembled a model with smoldering eyes and immaculately styled hair sweeping upward. It was like comparing a golden retriever and a wolf: both were beautiful in their own ways. Had you known her roommates were perfect 10s, you would have opted for an outfit more put-together than your cotton booty shorts and oversized tee…

You swallowed, suddenly nervous under the gaze of two gorgeous men. “Um, if you hold down or back when he tries to hit you with a super move, you’ll block half the damage. But you have to get the timing just right,” you explained.

Vegeta pouted his lips and turned to Goku. “You didn’t tell me that, Kakarot!”

Goku laughed and shrugged. “I thought you knew how to block!”

“So you’ve been winning because you haven’t told me all the rules! New match, come on!” Vegeta shouted.

“It’s not really a rule,” Goku murmured with a glance to you and a smile. You smirked back as he turned towards their game once again.

“Try to keep it at a reasonable level guys, please. We have an exam next week and I am not letting my A slip to an A-minus because of this stupid game!” Bulma warned and led you to the round table in the kitchen. You extracted your laptop and a notebook from your backpack and opened up to your most recent homework.

From your seat in the kitchen, you could see directly between the pair of gentlemen, straight to the tiny TV. You couldn’t help but watch as Vegeta’s character desperately tried to master the block timing, barely eeking out a victory.

“HA!” Vegeta celebrated. “In your face! See, all I needed was to actually know all there is to the game to beat you!”

“Oh whatever Vegeta! Bet you can’t do it twice in a row!”

Bulma tapped a manicured finger on your laptop. “Um helloooo? Are you with me?” she asked.

You blushed and turned in your chair towards her. “Yes, I’m sorry! My brothers and I used to play that game together all the time, it’s been a while since I last saw it.”

She smiled at you knowingly. “Or are you just enjoying the eye candy?”

You sucked on your lips and shrugged. “Well… I’m not not enjoying it.”

The two of you snickered quietly at the table.

“I’ve heard that ladies find them attractive, but I’ve known them both since we were little kids. I just can’t see them that way, you know?” she said.

You nodded and glanced over at them, making sure they weren’t listening in. “So you’ve never dated either of them?”

“Goku, never. There was a very brief time in middle school where Vegeta and I went out but it just got weird and… Ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it. But that was ages ago. And both of them are single now,” she offered, brow raised.

You tapped your pencil to your lips. “Hm. Good to know…”

Despite the looming chemistry exam, between the noisy video game and the attractive boys playing it, your focus was gone. As the evening glow began to darken, every few minutes you glanced over between the muscular shoulders on display to see who was in the lead. They were quite evenly matched, trading wins without any notable streaks for either.

After having to steal your attention back several times, Bulma snapped her laptop shut and shook her head.

“We aren’t getting anything done tonight, are we?” she asked.

You turned fully towards her. “Geez, I’m sorry Bulma. I know you wanted to have this assignment finished up but-”

She chuckled and waved her hand. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Like I said, we both have solid A’s and the exam isn’t ‘til next week. We’ve got plenty of time. Go see if they’ll let you play a round!”

“You really don’t mind?” you asked, glancing over the back of the couch once more.

“No, we’ll finish up later. Go have some fun!” she insisted.

You grinned and stuffed your belongings back into your backpack and set it by the front door. “Thanks!”

Just as you approached the living area, Goku rose from the couch and stretched, his skimpy tank top rising to show his midriff. It was just as toned and hard as his arms. The tiny gray shorts he wore left little to the imagination, in both the bulk of his thighs and the size of his package. Oh Christ, you though. The room suddenly felt intensely hot.

“Done already?” you asked, trying not to drool.

Goku smiled. “Nah, I’m just taking a quick water break. You want anything?” he asked.

“Not to drink, but I wouldn’t mind going a round or two at Tenkaichi,” you said.

“Sure!” Goku said. He walked around the couch and handed you the controller on the way to the kitchen. “Kick his ass!”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and looked at you over his shoulder. “Hm. Bring it on.”

As you walked around and plopped on the couch next to Vegeta, you got a better look at him. Significantly smaller in stature than Goku but just as built, he sat at the edge of the cushion with his elbows on his knees. You chuckled internally, recognizing it as the ‘serious’ pose your oldest brother took when playing video games. His gym shorts fit too small, his muscular legs pulling the fabric tight in places. The cut-off tank he wore displayed his fine musculature in a way that made your heart stutter.

Fuck’s sake, he is unbelievably hot, you thought.

Finally tearing your hungry gaze away, you selected the only female character in the game, earning a sideways smirk from your opponent.

“No way you’ll win with her,” he boasted as the game loaded.

“We’ll see,” you contested.

You took a few moments to refamiliarize yourself with the controls, but held your own against Vegeta. He had quickly mastered the block, but the timing came back to you like an old friend. The match was close the entire time until Vegeta managed to pull off a super move while you were in the air, catching you off guard. He smiled.

“A valiant effort,” he offered. “Best two out of three?”

“Of course!”

You fought again, but this time, you managed to recall a hidden combo you had memorized way back in the day. It took your opponent by complete surprise, depleting his health significantly before you moved in to finish the job for an easy win.

“What the hell was that?” he barked.

You grew shy and shrunk into the couch. “Just some muscle memory coming back to me. I’m guessing Goku didn’t tell you about hidden moves either, then?”

Vegeta turned towards you wearing a curious expression.

“Of course he didn’t. There are hidden moves?”

You pulled out your phone and furiously typed away. “Yeah! Each character has a combo that isn’t listed in the actual game anywhere, but they’re the strongest moves there are. My brothers and I used to play this all the time back in the day, but I only know Chacha’s combo. I’m looking up the combo for Prince Monkey so you can try it.”

He eyed you up and down as you searched, admiring the fact that you needed no makeup to look cute. Your features were soft and feminine, your smile lighting up your entire face. His cheeks grew warm when you scooted closer to him on the couch, showing him your phone.

“Here’s the button input. Give it a try!” you encouraged, leaning forward into your own ‘serious’ gaming pose, knee touching his.

He did as you suggested, but struggled with the combo at first. You eased back in the fight, allowing him time to figure it out before he finally blasted you away, winning the match by a hair.

“Nice! You did it!” you praised.

“It’ll be interesting to use that move against Kakarot,” he mused with a smirk.

“Kakarot? I thought his name was Goku,” you said.

“Kakarot is my first name, but I always go by my middle name,” Goku explained as he returned. “He just calls me that because he’s an ass.”

Goku held a dripping bottle of water against the back of Vegeta’s neck, making him recoil and snatch the bottle away.

“So who won?” Goku asked, taking a seat on your left and sandwiching you between two chiseled thighs.

“That would be Prince Monkey,” you admitted. “I took one round though.”

“You held your own well against me,” Vegeta said, giving a tiny hint of a smile. “It was an admirable effort.”

You nodded in appreciation and handed the controller back to Goku, but he waved you off and took a swig of water from his bottle.

“Keep playing as long as you want!” he said.

And so you did, managing to beat Vegeta in the next round thanks to your mastery over the hidden combo. Goku was flabbergasted when he saw the wildly powerful moves for the first time.

“Whoa! What the heck are those?”

"Hidden combos. You’ll have to figure it out on your own, Kakarot!” Vegeta sneered, his knee bumping into yours, then his elbow.

“Hey!” you chuckled, elbowing him back. “Quit trying to throw me off!”

“What are you talking about?” Vegeta rebutted. “I’m not doing anything!” He leaned against you and jostled your arm with his elbow.

“No fair!” you cried. You still managed to win the match, making Vegeta huff in annoyance.

Goku laughed. “Damn, she’s good!”

You shoved Vegeta playfully as he leaned for his bottle of water on the floor. You caught a glint of flirty eye contact as he did, making you want to kick your feet.

“That’s two to two,” Vegeta said. “One more to break the tie?”

“Absolutely. But I do want to change characters,” you said, inputting a code on the character select screen.

“King Monkey?” Goku asked after a new selection appeared.

“Wait, there’s another character?” Vegeta squawked. You nodded proudly.

“Yep. I know all the secrets to this game! Let’s see who will come out on top now!”

King Monkey, a larger and stronger version of his son, quickly dominated with a combo that devastated Vegeta. Despite his best efforts, he struggled to damage you, letting you come out on top without much trouble. Vegeta tossed his head and leaned back on the couch with an irritated grumble.

“Oh man!” Goku said. “That was really one-sided!”

You shrugged and laughed. “Well, King Monkey is a boss character so he’s not exactly fair. But I had to get him back for fighting dirty!”

“Tch, whatever,” Vegeta pouted, handing his controller off to Goku. “I have to get going anyway.”

You frowned and watched him get off the couch and head towards his bedroom down the hall. “Aw, bummer. Where you off to?”

“Astronomy lab,” he said over his shoulder.

Bulma called from the kitchen. “Oh, that’s finally happening?”

“Yes, finally,” Vegeta yelled down the hall, then reappeared with his backpack. “First clear evening in weeks. Cloud cover has been a pain in the ass all semester.”

“Sounds super interesting,” you said. “Well, it was really nice meeting you Vegeta!”

He gave a small smile and wave as he headed out the door. “Yeah. Been fun. See you around.”

“See ya, Jeeta!” Goku called from the couch.

As the door shut behind him, you blushed at the sweet, barely-there smile that had formed on his lips as he said goodbye. Intrigued by his stony, competitive personality, you wondered how Bulma would feel about you asking for his number…

“So he’s an astronomy major?” you asked. Bulma padded over and sat on the arm of the couch.

“Astrophysics, actually,” she explained.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Whoa. Didn’t take him for such an academic.”

Bulma snorted. “I know, right? Seems like more of a meathead like Goku.”

Expecting a retort for the insult, you turned towards him, but Goku was unperturbed.

“You gonna let her call you a meathead?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Well, I’m a kinesiology major, so I kind of am!”

You nodded. “Ah, I see. So you wanna be a physical therapist then?”

“I could do that,” he said, leaned his head from side to side. “But I also think running my own gym would be fun. Haven’t decided yet though.”

Quintessential himbo, you thought to yourself, smiling. Bulma’s roommates sure were interesting, to say the least. “Well, you certainly have the physique for it!”

“Thanks!” Goku said with pride. “Vegeta and I lift together all the time. Even though he’s really hard-working on his studies, he works just as hard in the gym. You should see all the other astro nerds, they’re like half his size! Well, in the muscle department at least.” Bulma laughed.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of the pint-sized yet built Vegeta sitting in class with a bunch of pale, scrawny bookworms he could tear in half.

“So are you a chem major like Bulma?” Goku asked.

“Oh gosh, I could never do chemical engineering like her!” you said. “I’m just a regular chemistry major. She’s way smarter than me, plus I don’t really like math all that much.”

“Ugh, me neither!” Goku said, selecting Master Turtle as his character to fight you. “I barely scraped by the general math class, and that was all thanks to Bulma and Vegeta! I’d be stuck in there forever if it wasn’t for them!”

You fought round after round, not even noticing when Bulma slipped away to her bedroom. Conversation flowed easily with the amicable Goku. He had a way of making you feel comfortable even in the silence. He asked about your brothers, told you that he had an older brother but Vegeta was more like a brother to him. As you got to know each other, the twilight faded into darkness, the only light in the living room coming from the tiny TV.

“I need a break, my thumbs are killing me,” you said, rolling your wrists.

“Can I try out that hidden character you had earlier?” Goku asked.

You took his controller and punched in the secret code for him. As you handed it back, your fingers brushed his for an instant. You made brief eye contact, his handsome features illuminated by the TV. He couldn't help but smile at the dusting of blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Your long lashes framed your pretty eyes perfectly, he thought, and your bright smile made his stomach feel lighter than air. Neither of you had noticed that you had migrated towards the center of the couch, only separated by an inch between your thighs.

You watched Goku figure out the new character, following his expressive brown eyes dancing across the screen. You hoped he couldn’t tell how hard you were staring at him from the corner of your eye. He was too damn handsome to take your eyes off of for long. And his pecs looked like they’d make a perfect pillow…

As Goku fought against the computer-controlled Prince Monkey, a twinge of conflict made you bite your lip.

Shit, you thought. I have no idea which of these guys I like better! Surely you couldn’t ask Bulma for both of their numbers, that would just be greedy. But you had to get one of them. No way could you pass up the opportunity. They were far too fine.

As if she could sense your dilemma, Bulma emerged from her bedroom and came back into the living area.

“I cannot believe how long you have been playing that damn game, Goku,” she laughed.

He grinned. “I’m just glad my old TV still works! Wish we could hook it up to the big screen though.”

As he continued to play, you stood from the couch and motioned for Bulma to join you in the kitchen.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I have a question,” you whispered, looking over your shoulder to make sure Goku was distracted by the game.

Bulma got the hint and lowered her voice. “Sure.”

“How would you feel…” you hesitated. “If I wanted one of your roommate’s numbers?”

She grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I freaking knew it. Which one though?”

You crossed your arms. “That’s the problem. I can’t decide!”

Bulma put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Are you for real?”

You nodded and smooshed your cheeks in your hands. “They’re both so hot!”

Bulma thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Ooh! I have an idea! Let me ask them how they felt about you, try to get a feel for which of them vibed with you the best.”

“Oh gosh, are you sure?” you asked. “Don’t make it too obvious though.”

Bulma smirked. “Please. I know the art of subtlety, my dear. I’ve got you covered.”

You bounced with glee. “You’re the best!”

“I know!” Bulma said with a shrug and proud smile.

After your nightly shower and bedtime routine, you climbed into bed to see your phone lit up with a new message.

BULMA: soooo i talked to the boys about you

YOU: ahhh

YOU: i’m gonna puke

BULMA: one of them actually asked about you before i got the chance to ;)

YOU: omg fr shut up

BULMA: wanna guess which one???

Part 2: Goku

Part 2: Vegeta coming soon!

dbz masterlist

tags: @artof-aristocracy

[thecapricunt1616]

Saffron - c.b. one-shot

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “I want to” the words left your lips without even needing to think and with your permission he watched your blissed out expression in the mirror as he spread your folds with his fingers, before dipping his digit in your slick and swirling it back and forth gently over your swelling nub. He placed a sweet kiss to your shoulder, his breath hot and sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. 

♡ O/S Inspo: For thousands of years, Saffron has been used to boost libido in both men and women. In Greek mythology, Zeus himself used the spice as a sexual stimulant. Traditional Eastern medicine also recommends it as an aphrodisiac.

♡ Summary: You have just been invited to star in your very first music video as a dancer - so of course you're a bundle of nerves, but your lovely Bear knows just how to help you relax.

♡ W/C: 1,947

♡ Posted Date: 05/16/2024

♡ A/N: Hi, Hey, Hello all! Hello to all my new followers omg 💖 I am so happy you’re here! This one shot is based on ♡ this ♡ request by @bbyseojun ! I hope this is what you were looking for when you requested it 🫶 I'm so so soooooo sorry that this got lost in my docs! Eek sorry about that :( Per usual requests are OPEN! I love doing them, I hope to get more in the future (promise they won't take as long as this one hehe) ☺️💖

♡ Warnings for BTC: smut smut smut - more smut - swearing (not edited that well SORRY) - tis all I believe! No use of Y/N & Black!Fem!Reader friendly. ♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had finally gotten your big break. Today was the first day of your music video shoots for one of the biggest up and coming female rappers in the industry, and you couldn’t be more stoked. You could hardly sleep last night due to your excitement.

You had been a dancer in Chicago for 4 years now, well - not full time. You of course between gigs waitressed @ The Beef — which is where you met your beloved boyfriend. You had worked for Mikey for about a year before he took his life. That was the thing that no one saw coming. When you came in to work the night after it happened and Richie wasn’t there - you knew something was extremely off. 

When Carmy came back to Chicago you were a bit shocked that he actually accepted the offer of taking the restaurant over. You two got close very quickly, and you were able to help fill in the gaps of what Michael wasn’t telling him so he could better process his death. 

Your romantic relationship bloomed faster then Carmen expected - but if he was honest he couldn’t get enough of you. The days you were off doing auditions or gigs he found himself missing you around the restaurant, giving you little playful spanks as you shuffled past him at his station while running food to the front of the restaurant, as well as sneaky make out sessions right before lunch or dinner rush in the dry storage. 

Your alarm went off at 4:55 and you hopped out of bed, starting the shower and Carmy was still snoring. He had no alarms set because he was taking you today, and would be on set with you. You at first had felt like he was babying you, or felt as if you couldn’t handle getting there yourself because you’d expressed confusion about the set location. 

He’d explained after a heated screaming match after closing one night last week, that you ‘weren’t allowed the time off if y’were gonna be a brat ‘bout him comin w’you’ and that ‘he knows models who have worked music videos and there are fuckos and pervs he doesn’t want you around’ so he was simply going to ‘keep you safe’ 

He took you at the expo table after you’d expressed if he just said he was doing it because he loved you and not because he thought you were incompetent you would have submitted to his request. That led to his thick hand around your throat and lips to the shell of your ear hissing into your sweaty skin

“Y’need me t’show you how much I love you? Mmm? Want me t’show you how I own this fuckin pussy? Huh? That big fuckin mouth isn’t runnin’ T’much now that I’m givin y’what y’been beggin me for all fuckin day yeah?” 

 By the time you’d finished your shower, Carmy was up, drinking his black cold brew packed with ice in a 32 oz deli container as you buzzed around the bedroom, toothbrush in your mouth and fluffy black towel wrapped taut around your figure. 

“Y’know it’s only 5:40, right?” He said, looking up from his phone. He was likely checking his emails, or obsessively texting Sydney - making sure she was awake and headed to the restaurant to be there for truck since today was the first day he was leaving her on her own. 

“Fiffe footy?!?” You exclaim through toothpaste and dropped your towel, his pupils going twice their size as your breasts bounced around while you hopped into a clean pair of seamless painties, before grabbing a bralette from the top draw. You slipped it on, rushing and sitting on the bed and he clips it for you by nature before you adjusted your chest and skittered back off to the bathroom

“Start the fuckin car!!! Jesus!!!” You snap, stressed and annoyed he was still laxely sprawled on the bed enjoying his coffee and catching up on his phone. 

“Fuuuckin Christ!!! Y’gonna be like this all day?” He huffed, opening his draw and grabbing a pair of jeans and a white shirt, slipping them on. “Lucky I take my showers at night” he grumbled. 

“Scuse me?” You snipped with a slight smile “who’s lucky for what?” You challenge. 

“Nothing” he scoffed, knowing if he tried you he’d not be touched for a week. “I love you” he said to try to smooth things over as he grabbed the keys and went downstairs to start the car and you smirked to yourself, slipping on your grey sweats and tank top before slicking your hair into a bun. 

By the time he was back, he comes and gives you gentle kisses on the back of your neck, gently rubbing over your belly and finding purchase on your hips before squeezing sweetly. “ Is someone nervous? Mm?” He mumbled into your skin and trailed his fingers underneath, goosebumps appearing on your skin at the contact. 

“Why wouldn’t I be nervous? And you’re movin’ all slow” you whine and he gently kisses your bare shoulder, trailing gentle pecks up to your neck 

“Relax” he said in that soft sweet way, tucking his fingers in your waistband. “Y’know we don’t have to be there till 8:45. It’s not even 6 baby the drive won’t take that long” he kissed that sweet spot right under your ear. 

“How am I supposed to relax when I’m about to do the biggest gig of my life this is like- this is like you with your stars!” You watch him in the mirror, gently nibbling on your earlobe gently, sucking on it. He stopped to chuckle lightly and you slap his thigh 

“Babe I know, I know it’s important - ‘s just funny cause you never know when Y’gonna get tested t’get a star it’s not like a fuckin…bar exam ‘er somethin. But y’gotta relax sweetheart” he dipped his fingers in the waistband of your panties “lemme help yeah? Make y’feel good?” He mumbled into your skin. 

“Carmy” you breathe as he rubs his thick calloused fingers over your mound. “Carmy” you drop your head back on his shoulder, guard falling down immediately. Every thought melted from your mind, your knees went wobbly, toes curling slightly. He knew exactly how to get you going, exactly which buttons to push. You felt his lips trail your jaw, careful to not nip hard enough to leave a bruise. 

“You know what to say if Y’don’t want me to” he reminded you, stilling his fingers for a moment to give your thoughts a moment to clear. You opened your eyes once more, seeing his piercing blue ones wide and enlarged with desire, tip of his nose red from the chilly morning air and lips slightly swollen from his inability to keep his lips from trailing your skin. 

“I want to” the words left your lips without even needing to think and with your permission he watched your blissed out expression in the mirror as he spread your folds with his fingers, before dipping his digit in your slick and swirling it back and forth gently over your swelling nub. He placed a sweet kiss to your shoulder, his breath hot and sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. 

In the mirror you saw your nipples had become rock hard beneath the fabric of your bralette, your eyes trailing down to see Carmy’s hand working beneath the soft fabric of your sweatpants. “Feel good baby? Mm?” He asked gently, pressing you more against the counter since your knees were getting weaker. You responded with a breathy moan and gentle nod, grinding into his hand. “Wait- wait princess won’t feel as good mm? Trust me” he stilled your hips and continued rubbing wide, gentle circles into your folds. 

“Please need you so bad-“ you whined out, feeling as if you sounded a bit pathetic but you didn’t care - the only thing bouncing around your mind was you needed release, and soon. 

“I know princess, y’gettin there” he drags your juices up to your clit, circling gently at first but quickening his circles before switching to strokes back and forth that had your hips bucking forward and a sharp gasp passing your lips. “See” he said gently, a smug smile on his lips as he rubs down, feeling over your entrance and teasing it with the pad of his finger. You bit your lip, looking at him in the mirror. 

“You’re such a tease” you whined out, and he thrust his finger inside you, causing your jaw to drop and a whimper to fall out of your mouth, gripping the counter with white knuckles for stability 

“Am I?” He mused, pushing past the first knuckle, then the second, achingly slow. He curled it in, trying to find that special spot “You look so pretty when you relax like this, mm princess?” He kept your gaze in the mirror, watching every twitch and gasp. You felt his cock pressing hard against your ass, you could only imagine the wet patch on his sweatpants and it made a wave of warmth flood your lower belly at the idea he’s going to have to change them before you leave. 

“You wanna fuck me? Huh? Right here in front of the mirror?” You asked, voice breathy and needy. He found the spot and pressed it with the pad of his finger, rolling your clit under his palm - the sensation on both ends of your most sensitive bit was enough for you to see stars in your vision at the stimulation. You leaned on the counter feeling weak and he lifted you with his other arm, holding you flush to his chest and wrapping his hand around your neck just enough for your head to feel light.

“You think you could handle me kitten?” He asked in the shell of your ear, adding his ring finger and thrusting them quicker. You went to moan, but you were so blissed out it came out more like a squeak. “Huh? Did ya’ say somethin’ pretty girl? Could barely hear you y’pussy is so wet” he teased, curling and uncurling his fingers to exaggerate his point, the squelch of his fingers nearly drowning out your whimper that soon followed.

“Cumming” you moaned hotly, resting your hand on his forearm, squeezing gently to tell him to add more pressure on your throat. He got the message of course, he always did. He had your body memorized as well as he did every cooking temp in the book. You leaned into the counter as your knees shook and he supported you with his arm, working you through it and whispering praise into your skin.

“See? Thas’ my good girl yeah? Jus’ needed some help lettin’ go mm? Feelin’ better now princess?” he worked you down, rubbing you gently. Your hips twitched and he chuckled a bit “Needa sit?” he asked gently and ran his hand from your neck down your chest, rubbing over your ribs sweetly. 

“No-” you said once you got your mind right again whining a bit when he took his hand out. “M’sorry for being mean” you said softly, looking at him in the mirror. He gently kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment and closing his eyes. You closed yours as well, leaning against him and savoring the moment. You did feel much better, you felt much lighter, even though there was an infrequent twitch between your legs as your body rode out the wave. It was all pleasant, though.  “Y’aren’t mean baby. Just a little sassy” He spanks you lightly. “I’m gonna shower, go stretch out n'we can leave when m’done - ye’?”

[from-the-clouds]

lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader

| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist

chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them. pairing: kendall roy x f!reader words: 4.6k warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this. a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy

Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse. 

As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake. 

Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.

The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being  haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.

“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”

“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”

That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim. 

“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”

He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.

Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes. 

Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.

Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.

It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.

Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers. 

He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured. 

Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up. 

“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”

You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy. 

“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out. 

“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.

If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.” 

Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes. 

“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”

He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”

You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.

“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.

“They aren’t.”

“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”

You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.” 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”

“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking. 

The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”

“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.

Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”

You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity.  “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”

Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.

But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.

“Just a little.”

“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.

You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.” 

“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”

You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?” 

“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”

You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.

“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.

“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin. 

“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.

It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips. 

There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?

“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes. 

He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”

You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric. 

You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.

It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away. 

“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.

Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does. 

So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”

Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that –  for anyone except himself, pisses him off.  “Fuck you.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.

The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.

It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked. 

Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”

“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”

“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress,  I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

Well, okay.

He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties. 

“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”

Kendall lets out a dark chuckle,  pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.

“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to  exactly what you like, what you need.  You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes. 

“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”

Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you. 

He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face. 

“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”

“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.” 

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you. 

Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders. 

“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.

He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good. 

Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths. 

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.

Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”

Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him. 

“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.

An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.

He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony. 

“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”

“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do. 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him.  Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.

Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name. 

“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”

You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete. 

For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.

Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.

Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on. 

He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again. 

He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.” 

From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him. 

“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”

“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.

“Look where it got me.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”

You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”

[aprilthearcher]

lost the game of chance

[remus lupin x fem!reader] [platonic james potter x fem!reader] based on ‘How Did It End?’ and ‘So Long, London’ by Taylor Swift. warnings: angst, angst, not sure if it’s a happy ending, but perhaps an ambiguous one. curse words, smoking, mentions of the war. my poor knowledge of tarot. English is not my first language, and I tried to do sth fun with my writing style on this one. No instance of (Y/N).

The hushed whispers, gasps, and fingers that would follow me everywhere were not, in fact, any more subtle than screaming the question directly at my face. For all the harm it meant, I guess I still couldn’t blame them. They knew no better than to entertain themselves with meaningless gossip about people they barely knew. It was either amusement from the messy breakup of the month or finally facing the fact that a war was brewing. Sally and Annie’s fallout had been the most discussed topic just a fortnight ago. 

The twins' straightforwardness, although somewhat appreciated, had come as a surprise. I had heard the question being asked behind my back many times this week, in whispers and brimmed to the top with fake empathy. 

“We wanted to say we’re very sorry about what happened between you and…” I didn’t know if she hadn’t finished the sentence out of apprehension or some sort of ‘respect’ thing. 

“Remus” I said. Both of the twins visibly relaxed after I spoke his name out loud without bursting in tears. “You can say his name, I won’t crumble.” Liar.

“Yes, terribly sorry we are. We wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I am, thank you.”

I was leaving when I heard it. 

“How did it end?”

And there it was. Turning around, the sight that greeted me would’ve made me laugh under different circumstances. Marion, presumably the one who couldn’t contain herself and asked the question, had both of her hands covering her mouth and her eyes had never looked bigger. Her sister, Nora, had her eyes shut closed, face scrunched up in embarrassment while the tip of her ears turned red. 

Why don’t you ask him? Perhaps then I’ll know, too. Why don’t you go and find out for me? Why don’t you? Would you two be a dear and ask him why he called it all off? Because I can’t pretend like I understand how I got here, pretending to be composed as if I hadn’t been crying all weekend. 

“We won’t tell anyone.” (Except all of our friends, who will tell their friends, and they tell theirs…).

“I guess… I guess we didn’t work out anymore.”

Short and sweet. I could tell the twins were disappointed. Sally had definitely been more indulgent. 

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

“She said that? She said we didn’t work out?”

“Why are you so surprised, mate? You were the one to tell her that.” James’ tone was colder than the snow covering the courtyard. The boys were killing time in the Gryffindor Common Room, huddled in the burgundy sofas and armchairs, protected from the bitter November weather. Both of his best friends were hurt and the one moaning and complaining was the one to blame. 

“Well, yes, but…”

“But? You know, Remus, we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t screwed it all up.”

Peter, concentrating on shuffling a deck of cards wandless, whistled softly. He might have seemed uninterested, but you could bet he had been listening to the entire interaction. “Unfortunately for you, James has a point.” 

“Sirius, you’re awfully quiet.” Remus mumbled while biting the skin around his nails. 

Sirius Black was, perhaps for the first time in his life, lost at words. He had been strolling round the room wondering when Remus had gone completely mental. Sirius knew his friend had always been somewhat loony – if you catch his drift – but this was on another level.

“I’m restraining myself from speaking because if not I’ll probably punch you in the face.” Honest as you could get from the eldest Black son.

“What has speaking got to do with you punching me in the face?” 

“You want to find out, Remmy?” Asked Sirius, staring at Remus from the window, where he had decided to finally sit down and unroll a cigarette. 

Peter’s squeaky laugh was cut short by a golden cushion landing on his nose.

“That shit will kill you,” Remus protested, chin lifted up to point at the cigarette on Sirius’ lips.

“Oh, cry me a fucking river, Remus.”

Remus felt like crying a river but not over Sirius’ disgusting habit.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Every corner of the castle was haunted, either by the memories created together or by her phantom-like figure wandering the halls aimlessly; an arrow being constantly thrown around by the wind, changing directions when she saw even a glimpse of him. 

The library was a bittersweet haven. Continually looking over her shoulder, methodically wiping away a tear from time to time; still, as much as it reminded her of Remus, it had been one of her favourite places before even meeting him. The fear of seeing him there couldn’t – wouldn’t – keep her frozen in her dorm forever. 

The smell of books, the sound of quills scribbling against pieces of parchments, and even the occasional screeches of the librarian were unparalleled comforting for her. 

Distracted by the illustrations on the spine of a large tome, she didn’t notice the person standing behind her.

“I read the book you lent me last month.”

A near heart attack later and with a hand on her chest, she turned around. The bulky teenager smiled sheepishly, fixing his glasses with one hand while the other held out the book. He was wearing the red and gold gloves she had knitted for him as a gift. A mini embroidered lion had been enchanted to run across the horizontal colourful lines. She smiled at the sight of it. James Potter was the greatest friend she had ever had. 

“Did you like it?”

“Loved it.”

Silently, he circled his arms around her, the book still in his hands was now a delicate weight on her back. She returned the hug immediately, her arms enclosing tightly around his frame. The lingering smell of chocolate brought tears to her eyes. 

“Don’t tell anyone but I think Snape is our own version of Mr Hyde.” James spoke softly on the shell of her ear. The chuckle she let out made James’ heart soared. She was the greatest friend he would always cheer up. 

“Thank you.”

“For making fun of Snape? You’d have to thank me daily, sweetheart.”

“I would say hourly.” A cheeky grin crept up on her face. 

“Now you’re catching on.” His hands abandoned their place at her back to gently grab her face. “Want to go to Hogsmeade and grab a butterbeer? It’s still early.”

She could never say no to him because James’ gentle smile reassured her, time and time again, that it would be alright.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

The war had left her short of friends and allies; short of hopes and dreams. 

With a heavy heart, she conjured a small bouquet of white flowers to lay on James and Lily’s grave. The soft autumn breeze did nothing to dry her tears. She would come to see them as often as she could, and as often as her grief would allow her. The worst part of it all was that she had lost Harry, as well.

She fought Dumbledore tooth and nail to at least be allowed to be part of his life. If raising him was too much, then she could surely visit him once or twice a month. He refused – though he kept quiet at the sight of the albatross he saw circling the house in Privet Drive the night  Lily and James died –. He knew she’d find some loophole in his restrictions. Nobody had said anything about a bird common to be seen on the ocean flying across Little Whinging. 

October 31st was a hazy memory, getting blurrier by the years. She had been shuffling her tarot cards – a branch of magic she’d wanted to take up since she was a little girl – when the entire deck burst from her hands. Suspended in the air, the only visible cards were the Tower, the Ten of Swords, and the Three of Swords. She didn’t need anyone to tell her what had happened.

A white-feathered bird was out of the window a few minutes later and in its journey, the albatross found a giant man flying a motorcycle with a bundle in his arms. 

The sound of the soft leaves being stepped on took her out of her memories. She turned around with a tight grip on her wand.

“Hey.”

Remus Lupin had changed over the years. More scars littered his face, the bags below his hazel eyes were more prominent, and he had done something to his hair. He was holding a bouquet of lilies in his right hand, the other one was hidden inside the pocket of his trousers. A tiny, apprehensive, yet handsome smile had formed in his lips.

She would always be under whatever spell that smile incited in her.

“Hi.”

For Remus, she was still stunning. His heart still leaps at the sight of her eyes.

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

You're his favorite show (3)

The day has finally come, the one on one with you is here. Choso can't wait.

Divider: @rookthornesartistry

Content: fem!reader, reader is a camgirl, self pleasure (choso + reader), cybersex (sorta), parasocial behavior, sex toys (vibrator, faux cock, nipple clamps), fantasies, choso is a little delusional

Wc: 1.8k

Part one, Part two

It was harder to do than Choso realized. As soon as he woke up this morning, his dick was already straining hard against his boxers. Due to the dreams of you that night, begging him to just let you taste his cock one more time. You needed to feel the heavy weight on your tongue, the way it'd slip down your throat- “Fuck,” he ran a sweaty hand down his face. This wasn't helping. Maybe just a little touch…? That wouldn't be bad, right? 

One turned into two and two turned into three. Choso was a lost cause when it came to you. 

After the third, left panting and sweaty, he finally peeled his hands away from his sticky cock. Scolding himself. He needed to be fresh, with an unspent cock so he could fully enjoy you. His dick needed a lock on it if he was going to survive until eight. 

When eight rolled around, he couldn't stop the intense beating of his heart. Choso could even hear it in his ears. Thumping loudly, all his blood pumping there instead of the usual place; his dick. His fingers tapped, slightly impatient, on his laptop as he waited for you. Chewing on his lip, eyes glued to the screen. Waiting for your cute little picture to pop up in the middle. “Where is she?” He whispered, nerves settling now. Did you not like him? No, no. That was impossible. He was your favorite, that's why you picked him. Had to be. 

A small chime came from his laptop, your picture popping up. Finally. He looked himself over before clicking accept, a large screen appearing with your face on it. God. The outfit you had on was….sinful. He licked his lips. “Hey pretty, sorry for my tardiness. I was getting my toys.” You gave a giggle and his dick twitched. “I-It's…okay. I'd wait if I had to.” Was that too much? Oh, he didn't want to scare you away now that he got you. “Aww, aren't you sweet.” You cooed. You're right, he was sweet. So so, sweet to you. He hummed. 

“Okay, before we begin. I want to go over some rules, mmkay?” He nodded. But remembered, he hadn't turned his camera on. Was he allowed to? 

“First, no personal questions.” She held up one finger. “Second, you can turn on your camera…unless you start to make me uncomfortable then I'm allowed to request you turn it off.” Another finger up, “you can request what toys I use, but the options are limited. I only have so many.” Finger up. “Fourth, you can request I call you something. And vice versa, just remember to keep comfort in mind. No creepy stuff.” You hummed, pressing your fingers to your lips. “I think that's it. Do you agree to these terms?” He swallowed thickly, he could do that right? Follow those rules? Choso nodded, “I do.”

“Perfect!” You clapped your hands. “Are you turning your cam on?” Another thick swallow, his finger hovering over the button before slowly clicking it. All you could see was waist down, no shirt and a pair of thick grey sweatpants. And the thick outline of his cock. 

“Holy shit..” he heard you murmur. Did he already mess up? You cleared your throat, “I mean…Ahem. Guess I was expecting someone…..old, not around the same age as me.” How old were you? He wanted to know. But he didn't ask. Choso couldn't risk breaking your rules. All he did was hum, unsure of what he was supposed to say to that but his dick did give an interested twitch. He heard you shuffle before speaking again, “Okay…what should I call you?”

What should he request? A pet name? Something dirty like, daddy? No…he should, “Choso…just call me Choso.”

“Mm, okay Choso,” you purred. Another excited twitch. “What toys am I using, Choso?” His eyes scanned the screen, seeing the toys you had laying out. There were so many…

“Um; nipple clamps…vibrator and the…faux cock. Please.” Did you hear how shaky his voice was? The excitement mixed with his nervousness? Did you mind? “Mm, good choices. Let's start with these first.” You picked up the clamps, jingling them in your hand. Then, you slipped a thumb into your mouth. Your tongue swirling around the digit, getting it nice and wet. Choso's eyes were glued to the scene. And they followed when you let go with a pop, swirling it around your erect nipple. Hardening them so you could attach the clamps. 

“Fuck..” he breathed, his hand already rubbing himself through his pants. 

“You like that?” He heard you coo, thumb sliding to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. “Yes…yes, I do.” His breathing was already labored and you just started. And when you opened the clamps, attaching to each bud with a small cute little fucking moan, he had to grip his shaft hard. How embarrassing would it be if he came now? So soon? Choso needed you to know he had more control than that. You hummed, giving a gentle shake to your breasts. The pretty jewels hanging off the clamps made him wish he was there. Tugging on them, making you whine and moan. His tongue sliding around them, maybe he'd even bite the ends, tugging like his fingers had done. 

“Pretty..” is all he managed to mumble as he watched you. And he could see a smile stretched on your face. God. He loved you. 

“Hmmm…what setting should I set this Choso?” You waved the vibrator in the air. “Slow and torturous? Or so high I can't help but make a mess for you?” You were killing him, talking to him like that. Feeding his small, nurtured, delusion further. “High,” he managed to choke out. And you listened, pressing the button over and over until it was on the highest setting, making your hand vibrate. “And this?” You gestured to the faux cock. “Mouth, in your mouth..” 

And you did that too. Slipping the thick head (not as thick as his) past your lips. Tongue peeking out to slide around it. He couldn't take it anymore. His thumbs hooked into his sweatpants, tugging them down to his thighs. Along with his boxers. His painful erection slapping against his tummy, leaving behind a mess. And it was only made worse when he caught your eyes, both, glued to his erection. Thick veins running up the length, an almost deep peach color making out his tip. Trimmed tufts of dark brown hair bordered the base. Large, thick and heavy balls set in between his legs. Swollen with how much cum he so desperately wanted to unload into you but couldn't. You moaned around the fake dick, moving the hypermotion vibrator to your clit. 

Immediately, your eyes water from how quick it was bringing you to that bordering sensation. The feeling when anything, a slight move, could tip you over the edge. You had no choice but to come at the will of this toy. 

He spit into his hand, stroking up and down his length as he watched. You, perched up on your chair, in the position he wanted you in. Using the toys, he wanted you to. Everything. Was how he wanted and it made him groan, thumb sliding over his slit, playing with his sticky precum. “I wish I could fuck you..” he found himself saying. The rules all but forgotten from his mind, the haze of lust taking over. 

But you didn't seem to mind, your hips swiveling. Helping your thrust against the cruel toy, slowly ripping an orgasm out of you. Making a mess of your thighs and your chair, chanting his name around the toy. God. You truly were everything he wanted. He needed you so bad. 

His teeth sunk into his lip, stroking himself quicker until he came too. Strings of white covering his tummy, his tensed muscles but he kept going. You hadn't stopped yet, so he wouldn't either. He could tell how sensitive your little clit was. That harsh toy that he picked, abusing it. He wished he could lick it, suck on it to make it feel better (or worse). His poor, pretty baby. He held his tongue, wanting so badly to call you that but couldn't. At the risk of you ending this session. 

He groaned, watching as your messy pussy twitched. Gaping, clamping down on nothing. It needed to be filled. He could tell. Choso risked a glance down at his dick, it was perfect for you. Would fill you up so nicely, won't you beg him so sweetly to fill you up after this? Give him your number? Your name? The real one. Your address? He just wanted to fill that poor pretty pussy of yours. It looked so lonely. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. His mind creating these scenarios made him cum again, another messy string of white painting his abs. 

You came too, couldn't help it with that toy vibrating so harshly against your clit. It was so swollen. Peeking from beneath your wet folds; he licked his lips. He didn't want this to end, Choso wanted to keep watching you come over and over. Being left in a pool of your arousal, he needed that image. But he could tell you were getting tired, too sensitive. Your poor little nipples were a harsh red, the clamps digging into them. Your mouth was a mess too, saliva dripping down your chin as you kept sucking that cock like it was–his. Is that what you were thinking? He wanted to ask, desperately. 

Sadly, you switched the vibrator off, tossing it to the side with a clank. Your pussy was still twitching. Saliva connected your pretty lips to the tip as you slid out the faux cock, tossing it with the vibrator. The clamps were last, undoing them left your nipples raw. He was sure they hurt. Won't you let him come and lick them better? His mouth would surely ease your aching buds. 

“Phew,” you let out a deep breath. Giving a small hum as you looked at him. “I hope you enjoyed your prize, I know I did.” Your voice was laced with the aftermath. It already was springing his dick to life. 

“I…did,” he looked down at his spent cock. “Good. Thank you for your support, Princ3charming. Hope to see you in the stream again!” Wait wait, what happened to his name? No, you're supposed to call him his name. “I'll be there. Always.” He watched as you gave him a smile before ending the call. His head fell against the pillows, his sheets and body messy; again. A ding came from his computer, signaling that the recording had been finished. 

What? Did you think he wouldn't record that one on one time with you?

Taglist: @angelic-stargazing, @adanfore, @sad-darksoul, @slothsmoths, @matchafroggies724, @sabo-has-my-heart

A/N: I tagged others who wanted to be tagged in part Two in this one. If you don't wanna be tagged lemme know. Also, sorry if there are any errors, I did my best to proofread but I'm sick so yeah, enjoy! ♡

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Chance 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents' house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother's Best Friend Universe

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

It’s no glorious homecoming. You have little to be proud of. A broken relationship, a lost job, and wasted years. In hindsight, it’s easy to see how stupid you are. Even with the excuse of emotion, you can’t forgive yourself for your own poor choices.

Back to square one. Literally. What kind of forty-two year old lives with their parents? The one staring back at you.

You splash your face, rinsing away the collagen wash that doesn’t seem to help the wrinkles. If it had, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated. Maybe he wouldn’t be shacked up with a woman half your age. A girl, really.

You shake your head and sigh. Nothing you can do or undo.

You shut off the tap as you hear voices above. The basement is close enough to an apartment; you have your own bathroom and a reasonable amount of space. Privacy is another matter as your mother barges in to get to the laundry room or even just chatter about Clara’s casserole.

You dry your face and your hands and leave the bathroom. You cross the carpeted floor to the stairs and pause. Your brother must have got to town early and your parents are ecstatic to have him back. They can be proud of him; he’s an executive in a national company with a wife-to-be on his arm. Younger but always ahead of you.

You still haven’t found the courage to go up and say hello. Now’s as good a time as ever. You’re thirsty and they say hydration is the key to staying young. Yeah right, that’s not something you can change now.

You hope your future sister-in-law doesn’t mind your pajamas. The blue and white striped satin set are of the few nice things you salvaged from your former life. You open the door and shuffle up in your slippers.

The voices draw you to the kitchen. You peek around and find your parents standing on one side of the square island as your brother stands between two other figures. You didn’t think there was anyone else coming.

You think better of introducing yourself. You’ll go back downstairs and say you fell asleep. As you turn, your arm hits the vase on the side table. You cringe as it goes silent.

“Honey?” Your mother calls to you. You exhale and steel yourself.

“Uh, hi,” you sidle into the doorway, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to get some water.”

“Nonsense, Jaydon’s here with his love fiancee, Tandi,” she trills as she beckons you forward, “and Jonathan popped in to catch up.”

You look around as you near the island. Jonathan. Pine? You didn’t think he was still around here. Everyone else seems to have moved on.

“Hey,” your brother, Jaydon grumbles.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Tandi offers her hand with a bright smile. She’s tall and slim and beautiful and probably ten years younger than your brother. Why do men always do that?

“You too,” you give a strained smile.

“Nice to see you again,” Jonathan intones and you look at him, struck by his clinging eyes.

He changed but he is not unrecognizable. He was always the tall, stringy kid but he’s filled out, he has some lines across his forehead and around his eyes, but they only refine his looks. He used to just be your brother’s sidekick, now he stays straight and confident.

“You too, Jonathan,” you murmur, “sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

“We made pretty good time,” Jaydon says proudly.

“Just so happens I’m in town for a family affair as well,” Jonathan adds, “good a time as ever to reconnect.”

You nod and wait for someone else to speak. You have nothing exciting to boast of. You’d rather fade into the background in the shine of their achievements. You’re certain they’ve already been briefed on your comedy of errors.

“Me and Tandi were just saying we’d like to go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. You could join us for a ladies’ day out. We’ll give the men some space,” your mother chimes. “Get you out of the house.”

Her last comments sting. You’ve been hiding. You don’t want to be recognised or need to explain yourself. Even if you did deflect curiosity, you don’t need another reminder of all your failures. And the farmer’s market? What are you going to do there? You don’t have the money for overpriced heirloom tomatoes.

Still, you have to play along. That was the talk your mother had with you. Like a teenager she had to tell you exactly how to behave when company was there. Company? He’s your brother.

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agree.

“I’m so excited,” Tandi beams, “it will be nice to explore and get to know Jay’s hometown.”

She touches his arm and he promptly drapes it around her shoulders. Jay? He always hated being called that but he seems to like her. For now. Their show of intimacy makes you shrivel up inside.

“There is very much to see,” Jonathan quips, putting your own thoughts to words. “Quaint, as the polite would put it.”

“Well, I recall you never had any issue finding something to do,” your mother rebukes playfully and Jonathan smirks.

“Yes, but I don’t suppose it’s the sort of activity your little ladies’ day out would entail,” he gives a coy tilt of his head.

“I hope you’ve grown out of that,” your mother kids.

“Mm, I like to think I have,” he shrugs.

You’re certain he has. All of them are the adults in the room and you’re the hermit in the basement. You have no illusions, you know your mother, you know all your mistakes have been laid out on the table; on every table in town. Oh woe to her, she always did try to raise you right.

“Mm, yes, well, it has been so long and you are all adults,” your mother says, as if to affirm your resent, “you’ve all come such a far way.”

You bite down on your cheeks, holding your tongue. It’s probably not a snipe at you, you’re just sensitive. You look at the counter and try to make yourself small. The glimpse of your pajamas once more sets you apart from them. How embarrassing.

“Oh, yes, speaking of,” Jaydon pipes up, “the engagement party. You said you had a venue in mind. We should see that while we’re here.”

“Ah,” your mother nearly squeals, “you’re going to do it here?”

“We talked about it,” Jaydon looks at Tandi, “but the wedding is still up in the air.”

“Oh my, how exciting,” your mother trills. “Perhaps tomorrow then, we might do that as well,” your mother continues her giddy raving, “mm, and flowers, catering, oh! A dress…”

You could slip away right then. She wouldn’t notice. None of them would.

You peek over at her. She was never that excited for you. Well, you never got the ring. You were never that special. You tear your eyes away and they meet another pair. You quickly wipe the sadness from your face and send Jonathan a plaintive smile. His eyes narrow and his gaze lingers.

You break your own stare and try to focus on the conversation. You should be happy for your brother, not bitter. Afterall, you made your own mistakes, not him.

[creadigol]

Hello i just recently found this blog and i'm in love with your writing.

Can you please continue the hero x villain story with the criminal please?

I am so sorry for the long wait…but here it finally is! Thank you so much for the ask! I hope y’all like part 2! 

*Warning for slight flashbacks of a traumatic event, but nothing bad.

Part One here.

“Once again Detective, I have no answers to your questions, I have no clue where they are, and if you don’t leave my property within the next thirty seconds I claim the right to shoot you for trespassing.” 

 Hero heard the voice below them speak with little attempt at patience. Their eyes were heavy and their body felt like lead, but their ears seemed to awaken with no problem. Why would Villain be threatening to shoot Detective? Hero had thought the two tended to keep out of each other’s way. Wait, why was Hero asleep in the same vicinity as Villain in the first place? 

“I know you have them! All accounts place you following Hero into the house! Dammit Villain! What happened?” 

God, Hero had never heard Detective so worked up before. The man was usually made of stone, even in the face of absolute evil. Hell, Hero once saw the man play a game of russian roulette with a mob boss and win through sheer intimidation. How had Villain got him so worked up? Of course they were enemies, being on opposite sides of a moral code tended to do that…but they had never been outright hostile to each other. 

“Fifteen…sixteen…seventeen…” Villain counted. Hero could just picture them casually looking at their watch while unholstering a weapon. 

“Fine!” Screamed Detective. “But don’t think I won’t be back! I’ll not rest until Hero is found!” 

Hero heard the stomping of boot heels on the walk. 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have lost them in the first place!” Villain yelled back. 

“Fuck you!” 

Hero fought to open their eyes. They moved their fingers and toes, feeling like they were some kind of mummy awakening after centuries of death. 

What was Detective talking about? Hero was right here. They had just finished up another case for them when…

The memory flashed before their eyes…the Criminal…the knife…that goddamn smile as Hero bled onto the kitchen floor…the fear…Villain!

No amount of lead in their veins could keep them down at the thought. Hero shot out of the plush bed with speed their body was not ready for. 

The window to their right was open, that must be how they heard the conversation at the front door, and Hero stumbled towards it. It took a moment, as their foot got caught in the exceptionally soft bedspread, but they made it. 

Hero stood to the side, not wanting anyone outside to see them in such a state of weakness…nor did they want Detective to see them…and looked out. Sure enough, this was Villains street…at least this was the street of their safe house. Hero had found it six months ago while following Villain after a deal gone wrong. They had just wanted to make sure Villain wasn’t too beat up…they ended up staying all night wrapping the Villains wounds. 

Hero assumed Villain would have changed houses after that. Guess not. 

Hero watched as Detective stomped angrily to his silver sedan. Now how had Detective found the safe house? And why did he not just raid the place? Why put up with Villain’s taunts if he knew Hero was here? 

Hero took stock of the room. It was a nice bedroom, rather typical. Blue walls and a matching white and blue quilt. There was a small dresser, night stand and desk that looked like they were bought together at the local Big Lots. Nothing expensive, like how Villain usually liked. Nothing gleaming of elegance or gilding. Nothing special…but comfortable. Actually really comfortable. And kind of cute. 

Nothing at all like Villain. 

A shuffling outside the bedroom door made Hero stiffen. The door opened revealing Villain, still muttering to themselves about ‘nosy, pain in the ass detectives’. Hero stayed frozen by the window. 

Villain was carrying a tray with a sup and bowl on it, something steaming from the bowl when they glanced at the bed and saw it was empty. 

“Shit!” They swung around frantically, somehow not spilling anything, and immediately laid eyes on Hero. 

“Hero!” Villain gasped. They placed the tray on the nightstand as the tension in their shoulders released. “What in the hell are you doing up? Do you have any idea wha…”

“Where am I?” Hero interrupted them. Villain froze. “What the hell is going on?” 

Villain’s eyebrows scrunched. “Hero…” They started. “Do you remember what happened? I mean, I understand if not…” 

“Of course I remember,” Hero snapped. “But that does not explain why I’m in your safe house or why Detective was here.” 

“Fuck. I knew his voice carried,” muttered Villain. They looked at Hero, seeming to take in their appearance, which Hero felt was probably not great. “You were stabbed Hero. It was bad…really bad. I had to heal you, but…” Villain gestured vaguely. 

“You redirected my body’s energy to heal the wound,” Hero finished. That’s why they were sleeping. That’s why they had no energy to spare. 

“You should still be out,” Villain said as they walked forward. “I estimated at least another week, if not more. Had planned on Doctor giving you an IV tonight.” 

Hero looked down at themselves and took stock of their appearance. Their hair was down, though that had happened during their scuffle with Criminal, and their arms were bruised. Finger prints littered their wrists and elbows. They lifted the front of their t-shirt and glanced at their stomach. Only a slight discoloration showed any sign of the life threatening injury they had received. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Four days. Detective’s been following me incessantly after they couldn’t find you in that damn house.” 

Villain had walked to only an arm's length away. Seeming reluctant to come any closer, yet holding themselves as if to reach out. 

“Followed you here I see,” Hero said. They traced their fingers over the discoloration on their stomach. 

“Unfortunately.” 

Hero let the shirt fall back down and only then comprehended their attire.

“Did you dress me in your pajamas?” Hero asked incredulously. 

Villain laughed, “Well your clothes were ruined and there wasn’t much else here.”

“You didn’t…” Hero gave them a look that promised quick vengeance should they hear the wrong answer to their question. 

“I was perfectly professional, I assure you. Nothing but doctoring on my part.” Villain clapped them on the shoulder. “You should get back to bed though. You still need time to recover.” 

Hero was feeling faint standing, so they agreed and got back into the bed. They got situated under the covers, but sat up by the headboard. Villain stood hovering for a moment before stepping back.

“Why did Detective need to follow you? Why not just tell him I’m here?” Hero eyed Villain as they fiddled with the covered steaming bowl, “Not like saving my life is very illegal. Unless you..you know.” 

Hero didn’t finish as they thought about Villain’s words to them before they passed out. 

Best not to look to your right though…you have too fair a disposition to look at Criminal now.

“Criminal’s alive,” Villain spoke as if reading their mind. “Did my best, but the bastard lived.” 

Hero felt their insides freeze. 

You really are perfect aren't you?

Let’s not prolong this dear. 

“They’re secured in the hospital ward of the prison.” Villain sat down on the edge of the bed and placed their hand over Hero’s pale one. “You got enough for the case while you were undercover. Better than a confession.” 

Villain made eye contact, “They’re never getting out Hero. And if they did, I would finish the job.” 

Hero smiled softly. “I have no doubt you would finish the job now if I asked.” 

Villain chuckled, “Wouldn’t be the worst job I ever took.” 

“But why Detective?” Asked Hero. 

“But why Detective what?” Villain said. They patted Hero’s hand and got up to go back to the tray once more. 

“Why lie about saving me?” 

Villain took the top off the bowl and Hero saw that it contained hot water and a white cloth. 

“Should have known you’d have heard that. Damn hearing.” 

“Why?” Hero pressed. 

Villain handed them a hair tie. “Because I don’t trust him. Or at least I don’t trust who he works for.” 

Hero pulled their hair into a bun. “Why?”

Villain swirled the cloth through the water a couple of times. Hero could smell what they assumed were salts or oils mixed in. 

“They never should have called you in,” Villain spoke.

Hero reached out for the cloth, “They call me in all the time.” 

The cloth stayed in Villain’s hand, submerged in water. “They don’t for the petty stuff.” 

“Well this wasn’t exactly petty. Criminal was the killer we’ve been looking for.” 

“Exactly!” The water sloshed with Villain’s outburst. “All the victims look like you. All the Criminal’s ‘types’ look like you. Every outfit, hair style, and mannerism was just like you. Criminal’s had an obsession for a while Hero and those bastards banked on it.” 

Hero faltered. 

“You’re saying they tricked me to get them?” 

“I’m saying something’s going on and until we figure it out you’re not safe to go back.” 

Hero went silent for a few moments.

“Damn.” They finally whispered.

Villain handed them the warm cloth. “Yeah…damn.” 

The scent infused water felt heavenly on Hero’s neck and face. They wondered if this was how Villain kept them clean while they slept. 

“So what do we do?” 

“You,” Villain pointed, “rest. At least for the next couple of days.”

“And you?” Hero handed the cloth back. 

“I’m going to pay the good Commissioner a little visit this week.” 

[roxygen22]

15 of Angsty sentence starters for Timmy? Plz

#15: "Are you happy now?"

A/N: I don't think Timothée would actually behave like this, so I included a happier alternate ending.

<><><><><>

Late

"You're late. Again." You glared at Timothée from where you had collapsed on the couch from exhaustion.

"I told you I had a dinner scheduled after today's shoot," he retorted as he took off his shoes by the door.

"But you didn't tell me you'd be out until after midnight." You stood and paced in the living room.

"Lay off, [Y/N]," he growled.

"I recognize that you work all day. And that your career has an inherent social requirement. But I need you to recognize that taking care of YOUR newborn is more than a full-time job. That I don't get to punch a time clock and go home to reset. That we have no family in the area to tag in for help. That I am fucking exhausted!" You lost control of your volume at the end and accidentally woke the baby you had just gotten to sleep 30 minutes ago.

Your daughter's cries got sharper and louder, yet all you could do was slump against the couch and sob. You heard Timothée scoff, grab his keys, and walk back out the door. "I'm not going to listen to this all night."

"Are you happy now?!" Timothée gestured toward the nursery. "You have one job, [Y/N]. I work my ass off to make sure you and our daughter want for nothing. Nothing!"

The scream that wrenched its way from your gut was near animalistic. You folded yourself to the ground, resting your forehead on the floor and covering your ears with your arms. Once your tears were spent, you slowly picked yourself back up. Timothée was right about one thing - you have a job to do, and you'll be damned if your daughter was going to suffer just because she has an asshole father.

<><>Happier Alternate Ending<><>

Your daughter's cries got sharper and louder, yet all you could do was slump against the couch and sob. You heard Timothée's footsteps pad past you to the baby's room. "Shhh, baby girl. Daddy's got you." He shuffled back to the living room, bouncing your daughter in his arms.

"[Y/N], I- I'm sorry," he whispered and sat next to you. "I shouldn't have reacted like that. I've had a long day, but that's no excuse. This- this isn't like you. I know you must be at your wit's end. I'm sorry I let it get this far before seeing it. I'll call my mom to see if she can come stay with us for a few days. We're going to hire some help, at least part time to give you a break when I can't. In a couple of months, we'll be done shooting and I can stay home more, too."

All you could do was nod and sob some more. Timothée opened his free arm and gestured for you to come closer. He wrapped his arm around you as you crawled over and sank into his embrace.

<><><><><>

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