#I don't have a good feeling about this guy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

always-just-red · 3 days ago

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Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh.

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms.

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation.

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…”

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper.

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers.

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you.

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins.

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him.

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy.

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer.

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish.

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes.

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours.

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly.

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.”

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up.

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs.

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance.

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you.

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight.

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too.

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm.

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s…

Perfect.

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers.

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there.

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #lads #lnds #l&ds

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cowboybeepboop · 3 days ago

Text

Hunted

"What are you doing to me, little one? You're driving me insane.."

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Sergei finds you lost in the woods, comes to your rescue, and seduces you all in one day.

Warnings: Mentions of being chased/harassed by men, being hunted, uses of “little one”, a size kink, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving)

a/n: Guys I’m so obsessed with Kraven omg, since I’m on break right now I’m grinding the fuck out of writing. also, I didn't proofread (per usual) I hope you all enjoy and send any requests you might have my way

You’re a little lost, well more than a little. Somehow you ended up being taken by a few strange men, and managed to get free but what good does that do if you’re lost, cold, alone, and limping in the Siberian forests?

You drop down to rest, wrapping your arms around your body as the cool air assaults you. Trying to think of what to do next, while keeping in mind that there are three crazed men on the hunt for you.

Kravinoff observes silently as he watches you drop to the ground, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep warm. His expression remains stoic, his eyes taking in every little detail about you. As he watches you shivering, he can't help but feel a small pang of...sympathy? No, that can't be right.

After a few moments of silent observation, Sergei finally breaks the silence, his voice gruff and blunt. "Lost, little one?"

You flinch at the sound of his voice, immediately reaching for a branch to attempt to defend yourself. "G-go away.." you murmur weakly, teeth chattering as you speak, your eyes trained on the floor.

Kravinoff raises an eyebrow at your display, his lips twitching into a slight smirk as he sees you reaching for a branch to use as a weapon.

He slowly takes a step closer, his heavy boots crunching in the snow as he does so. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? But that weak voice and shivering body are hardly intimidating."

"Please.." you murmur, eyes watery as you gaze up at him with puppy dog eyes, reminiscent of something his younger brother would do. "Please don't hurt me.."

Sergei's expression softens for a moment as he looks down at you, the puppy dog eyes tugging at a very small part of his heart that he's long since tried to bury. "Hurt you? You think I'm going to hurt you?"

He takes a few more steps towards you, his eyes roaming over your form, taking in the sight of your shivering and shivering body. "You're trembling, little one. And that limp, you're hurt."

"It's not that bad, I can walk," you whisper, watching as he approaches you slowly.

"Not that bad, hm?" Sergei lets out a scoff, his dark eyes flickering over your body. "You're shivering from the cold, and you're clearly hurt. You can barely stand, let alone walk."

He crouches down in front of you, his large frame towering over you. "Tell me, what's your name, little one?"

"My name is Y/N.. there's these guys, they're hunting me. I don't, I don't know what to do." Your expression is pleading as you weakly stand up, shakey voice matching the trembles of your body.

Sergei's expression darkens at the mention of other men hunting you. He glances around, his eyes scanning the area like a predator watching for prey.

"Hunters, huh? And they're after you. Interesting." Sergei's eyes return to you, his hand instinctively going to rest on the handle of one of the knives holstered on his belt.

"Why are they hunting you? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," you lean toward him, seeking the warmth that's radiating from his body. "At least I don't think I did? All I remember was waking up in a tent, they said that we were going to play a game.. I-" you trail off, a small tear falling down your cheek.

Sergei watches as you lean towards him, a small pang of sympathy shooting through him again when he notices the tear rolling down your cheek. He's not used to comforting people, but something about you triggers a protective instinct within him.

"A game... What kind of game, little one?" He asks, his voice gruff but surprisingly gentle. He gently reaches out and places a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

"He said they would hunt me.." you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as a whistle sounds through the air. You press your body to his, eyes wide with fear, "i.. think they're getting close."

Sergei's expression hardens as he hears the whistle through the air, his hand instinctively tightening on the handle of his knife. He glances around once more, his senses on high alert.

"Shhh," he murmurs, his other hand gently reaching out to hold you closer to him. "Stay quiet. They won't find you."

He pulls you to his chest, his large frame shielding you partially from view as he scans the woods once more.

You bury your reddened face into his chest, breathing in his musk and seeking safety in his grasp. Your arms move to cling to his waist, holding yourself closer to him.

Sergei's nostrils flare as you bury your face into his chest, the scent of your skin, mixed with the musk of the forest, filling his senses. He can feel your arms clinging to his waist, the feel of your body pressed against his stirring something deep within him. He slowly reaches up and rests his hand on the back of your head, gently holding you against him.

"Don't worry, little one," he murmurs gruffly, his eyes still scanning the woods. "You're safe with me." You nod against his chest, too tired to speak.

Sergei can feel the exhaustion radiating off you, your weary body leaning heavily against him. His fingers gently brush through your hair in a small, comforting gesture.

"You're exhausted," he murmurs, his voice still gruff but softer than before. "Let's find somewhere we can rest and get you warmed up."

Sergei shifts ever so slightly, his large frame adjusting so he's able to lift you gently into his arms, cradling you like a child.

You gasp as he effortlessly picks you up, arms instinctively going to his neck. "Where will we go?" you murmur.

Sergi glances down at you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, and a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He enjoys the feel of you in his arms, the way your body fits snugly against his.

"Somewhere safe," he replies, his voice gruff. "Somewhere these 'hunters' won't find us."

Carefully, Sergei begins moving through the forest, his powerful legs carrying both of you through the deep snow with ease. You nuzzle your face against his shoulder, finding him comforting in the vast forest.

As you nuzzle your face against his shoulder, Sergei can't help but notice how much he's enjoying the feel of you in his arms. Your warmth against his chest, the soft sound of your breathing, and the gentle feel of you nuzzling against him.

He continues to move through the forest, weaving through trees and navigating the deep snow like a natural tracker. Every now and then, he glances down at you, his eyes taking in your tired, but now tranquil face.

You drift to sleep in his arms, body going limp as he continues to trek toward his home. Bringing you closer and closer to a warm safe shelter.

Sergei feels your body go limp in his arms, signaling that you've fallen asleep. His arms instinctively tighten their grip on you, holding you securely against his chest as he continues to trek through the snowy forest.

Each step brings you both closer to his home, a small cabin nestled deep in the forest, away from the chaos of the outside world. As he approaches the cabin, Sergei can't help but feel an odd sense of protectiveness over you.

He gently pushes open the door to his cabin and steps inside, careful not to wake you. The cabin is warm and cozy, illuminated by the soft glow of a fireplace in the corner.

Sergei carries you over to a large, comfortable armchair and carefully sets you down, ensuring you're settled and comfortable. He takes a moment to gaze down at you, his eyes roaming over your tired face as you sleep.

He sighs deeply, his hands resting on the arms of the chair as he contemplates what to do next. You stir slightly at the lack of his body against yours, your arms reach out, seeking him once more.

As you stir and reach out for him, searching for the warmth of his body, Sergei can't help but smirk to himself. He's not used to being sought after like this, and it brings an odd feeling of satisfaction to him.

He steps closer, gently taking hold of your seeking hands and holding them in his own large, calloused ones.

"I'm right here, little one," he murmurs gruffly, his voice low so as not to startle you.

As the morning sunlight streams through the windows, bathing the cabin in a warm, golden light, you stir in the soft, comfortable embrace of the armchair.

Sergei, who had spent the night keeping watch by the fireplace, notices your movements and rises silently from his chair. He watches as you pull the soft cloth blanket up to cover your face, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

He takes a step closer, leaning against the back of the armchair, and speaks in a low, gruff voice. "Morning, little one."

"You never told me your name.." you murmur, sliding out of the chair and sleepily moving to his side.

Sergei's eyes roam over your sleepy form as you move to stand beside him, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he hears your question.

"I suppose I didn't," he says gruffly, his eyes watching you with a mixture of amusement and something else, something he can't quite place.

He lifts a hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, before replying, "My name is Sergei. Sergei Kravinoff."

"Sergei.." You repeat, settling onto the ground next to him, basking in the heat of the flames.

As you say his name, a small shiver of satisfaction runs through Sergei's body. He can't remember the last time anyone has spoken his name with such soft, sweet lips.

He watches as you settle onto the floor next to him, your body seeking the warmth of the flames. He can't help but admire your small, fragile form, your skin flushed and weary but still so very beautiful.

He glances down at you, his voice still gruff but softer than usual. "You should eat something, little one. You must be hungry."

Your face lights up at the mention of food, your stomach growling as if on cue. "I am a little hungry.."

A small, satisfied smile tugs at the corners of Sergei's lips as he watches your face light up at the mention of food, and hears your stomach growl in confirmation.

"Looks like that settles it," he says gruffly, pushing himself up off the floor. "I'll fix you something to eat. Stay there and warm up."

Without waiting for a reply, he strides over to the small kitchen in the cabin, starting to prepare a meal.

You turn to watch his movements, craving his company at your side once again. A feeling of heat rises in your stomach as you gulp, eyes glued to his muscular frame.

Sergei can feel your eyes on him as he moves around the kitchen, his muscular frame easily handling the preparation of the simple meal. He can't help but detect a hint of something in your gaze, a heat that he's not sure he quite understands.

He glances over at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze. "What is it, little one?" he asks gruffly, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and mild amusement.

Your cheeks flush a bright pink, causing you to shake your head. "Nothing.. it's nothing." you reply softly.

Sergei's smirk grows wider as he notices the bright pink flush on your cheeks, knowing that he's caused a reaction in you. He can't help but be captivated by the innocent, shy look on your face.

He lets out a gruff chuckle, returning to his task of preparing the meal. "It's not nothing," he says, his voice holding a hint of playfulness. "You're staring at me, little one. I can feel your gaze on me. What are you thinking?"

"You're just very big.." you whisper, shocked by the words coming from your mouth. Clenching the blanket tight around you, you carefully adjust your clothes, feeling your panties becoming wet.

Sergei's eyes widen slightly at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the innocent bluntness of your statement. He can't help but be amused by your shyness, your flushed cheeks, and the way your body fidgets under the blanket.

He turns to face you fully, his eyes roaming over your form, drinking in the sight of you. He can sense the change in you, the heat in your body, and he can't help but wonder if you're even aware of it.

"Is that so?" he asks gruffly, his voice holding a hint of something else, something deeper.

You nod, mind wandering to.. other parts of him, and how big it might be. "Mhm.." you murmur, looking up at him as he brings you a plate of food.

As you nod and confirm his words, Sergei can't help but notice the way your eyes wander over his frame, lingering on certain parts of his anatomy. He knows what you're thinking, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

He approaches you, holding out the plate of food. As he does, his eyes lock onto yours, his voice gruff as he speaks again. "Eat up, little one. You need your strength."

"Thank you Sergei.." you smile up at him, taking the plate and beginning to take a few small bites, your mind still focused on him.

Sergei watches as you take the plate and begin to eat, his gaze studying you intently. He notices the small, subtle things, the way your eyes wander over his form, the way your lips move as you chew.

A small, amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he watches you, his own thoughts wandering to the same subject as yours.

"You're welcome, little one," he grunts, his voice gruff and low. "Make sure you eat all of it. Can't have you wasting away on me."

"Yes sir," you murmur between bites. Comfortable silence fills the air as he takes a seat next to you, his shoulder lightly brushing yours.

As you finish your meal, the silence of the cabin is filled with a comfortable stillness. Sergei lowers himself down to sit beside you, taking a moment to admire the sight of you as you finish eating.

His shoulder lightly brushed yours, the contact sending a small shiver through his body. Despite his gruff and stoic exterior, he can't help but be drawn to you, your innocence and vulnerability stirring something deep within him.

"Feeling better now, little one?" he asks, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.

"Much better," you grin, leaning against him, your hand falling to his lap. You're craving more, more of his touch, more of him, you just need him.

As you lean against him and your hand falls to his lap, Sergei's body tenses momentarily, his breath catching in his chest. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the slight weight of your hand on his thigh, and it awakening something within him.

He can't help but glance down at your hand, then back up at your face, a mix of surprise, desire, and a hint of hesitation in his gaze. "Little one..." he growls, his voice deep and hoarse.

"Yes, Sergei?" you breathe out, biting down on your bottom lip with desire.

Sergei's eyes are fixated on your biting your lip, the sight sending a wave of heat through him. He can feel his body reacting to your closeness, to the desire in your voice.

He leans closer to you, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, gruff whisper, "What are you doing to me, little one? You're driving me insane.."

You gasp as his voice sends shivers down your body, leaning closer to him you find a small amount of confidence. You slide your hand up his though, nearing the place you're most curious about. "Sergei.. I'm curious about something.."

As your hand slowly slides up his thigh, nearing a sensitive spot, Sergei's body tenses once more, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel the heat of your touch, the desire in your movements, and it's driving him wild.

He glances down at your hand, then back up at your face, his eyes dark and intense. "What is it, little one?" he growls, his voice thick with desire. "What are you curious about?"

"How big is it?" you gulp, looking up at him through your lashes as you settle between his legs. Almost salivating at the thought of seeing his cock.

As your words sink in, and your body moves between his legs, Sergei's breath hitches in his chest, a low growl escaping his lips. He can feel the heat in your body, the desire in your gaze, and it's driving him crazy.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and ravenous, as he responds in a low, guttural tone, "Are you sure you want to know, little one?"

"Mhm, I'm really curious," you whisper, hand sliding to the buckle of his belt and slowly maneuvering to remove it. "Is this okay?"

Sergei watches as your hand moves to his belt, slowly working to undo the buckle. Your touch is innocent yet filled with a desire that he can't deny.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he contemplates your question. "You're very forward, little one," he says gruffly, his voice thick with a mix of desire and surprise. "But yes.. it's okay."

You slowly remove his garments, moving to free his hardness. Your body trembles in anticipation, desire coursing through you.

As you remove his garments, revealing his hardness, Sergei's breath hitches in his chest, his body trembling slightly as you bare him to your gaze.

He watches you, his eyes roaming over your face, studying the mix of desire and innocence in your expression. He can feel his own desire growing stronger by the second, a mixture of primal need and unexpected gentleness.

"Look at you..." he mutters gruffly, his voice thick with want. "You're so, so curious.."

Your hand wraps around his thick hard dick, eyes wide as you take in the sheer size of it. "I want to taste you," your gaze is focused on his length as you stick your tongue out, licking his tip slightly.

As you wrap your hand around his length, a low, guttural moan escapes his lips, his body tensing at the feel of your touch.

He watches as you lick his tip, your gaze fixed on his manhood, and it drives him crazy. The heat in your eyes, the desire in your movements, it's driving him to the edge.

"Is that so, little one?" he growls, his voice thick and strained. "You want to taste me, do you?"

You nod, lips wrapping around his throbbing cock. Your mouth is full of his manhood, eyes fluttering shut as you moan at the taste of his precum.

With a deep, shaky breath, Sergei allows you to continue, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels the warmth of your mouth engulfs his cock. The sensation sends waves of pleasure through his body, his muscles tightening and his heart racing.

His hands instinctively move to the back of your head, guiding your movements gently as you take him in deeper, your soft moans muffled by his flesh. The feeling of your wetness and the gentle suction as you work your mouth over him is almost too much to handle, and he has to fight the urge to thrust into you.

Sergei's eyes snap open as your eager mouth continues to explore him, his grip on the back of your head tightening slightly as he watches you with a mix of hunger and amazement. "You're a natural, little one," he grunts, his voice strained as he feels himself getting closer to the edge.

His hips begin to move almost imperceptibly, matching the rhythm of your mouth. The warmth, the wetness, the way your tongue swirls around his head – it's all too much for him to handle. He can feel his orgasm building, the tension coiling in his stomach and balls, begging for release. But he doesn't want this to end yet. He wants more of you, all of you.

With a sudden urgency, he pulls you off his cock, panting heavily. "Not yet," he growls, his eyes burning with desire as he looks down at you. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing over you, his large frame looming over you protectively.

His hand moves to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to reveal your soft, pale stomach. His lips follow the trail of his hand, kissing and nibbling gently, leaving a path of heat in their wake.

You gasp and arch up into his touch, your own desires spiraling out of control. His rough hands begin to unbutton your pants, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly reveals your most intimate secrets.

As he unbuttons your pants, Sergei's eyes are dark with need, watching your every reaction with a predatory focus.

He can feel the heat between your legs, smell the sweet scent of your arousal, and it's all he can do to not rip the rest of your clothes off in one swift move. But he holds back, enjoying the slow, methodical unveiling of your body.

He slides your pants down, his calloused hands brushing against the softness of your skin. His eyes are drawn to the small, lacy underwear you're wearing, the stark contrast to the ruggedness of the cabin and his own attire not lost on him.

With a smirk, he hooks his fingers under the elastic and pulls them down, revealing your bare, shaven pussy.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. His eyes roam over the delicate folds of your sex, the sight of your wetness making his cock throb even more. He leans down and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

You whimper at his gentle touch, your body quivering with anticipation. "Sergei," you breathe out his name like a prayer, your legs falling open wider to give him better access. You can't believe this is happening, but all you want is for him to keep going.

His mouth follows the path of his kisses, moving closer to your core. When he reaches your pussy, he lingers for a moment, his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh before his tongue darts out to taste you. The sensation is electric, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through your body as he explores you with the same curiosity and hunger he had when you first touched him.

"Oh god," you moan, your hands fisting in the sheets as his tongue delves deeper into your wetness. He licks and sucks, his beard scraping gently against your thighs, sending sparks of pleasure through you. Your hips buck against his mouth, seeking more, begging for it.

Sergei growls in satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your clit, sending you spiraling closer to the edge. His hands move to grip your hips, holding you in place as he devours you, his tongue swirling and flicking with expert precision. You're lost in the feeling, your world narrowing down to the warmth of his mouth and the exquisite pleasure he's giving you.

And as your orgasm builds, he slows down, teasing you, making you beg for release. "Please," you whine, your voice desperate and needy.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust and something else, something that makes your stomach flip. "Please what, little one?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that resonates through your core.

"Please, make me cum," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a smirk, he goes back to work, his tongue and lips bringing you closer and closer to the precipice until, with one final, hard suck, you're tumbling over, your body shaking with the intensity of your climax. You cry out his name as waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him.

Sergei watches you come with a fierce satisfaction, his cock pulsing with his own need. He moves up your body, his eyes locked on yours as he positions himself at your entrance. "Are you ready for me, little one?" he asks, his voice a gruff whisper.

You nod, your eyes glazed with passion as you reach up to pull him closer. "Yes," you pant, your body arching up to meet his. "I need you inside me."

And with that, he pushes in, filling you up with one long, slow stroke that has you gasping for air. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. He begins to move, his thrusts deep and measured, his gaze never leaving yours as he takes you, claiming you as his in this moment of raw, primal passion.

With a fierce growl, Sergei slams into you, his cock stretching your tight pussy as he takes what he's craved since the moment he laid eyes on you. The feeling of you, warm and wet around him, is indescribable, and he can't hold back any longer.

He begins to pound into you, each stroke hitting just the right spot, making you scream out in ecstasy. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, your heels digging into his muscular back as you meet his rhythm, urging him to go faster, harder.

The bed beneath you creaks and shakes with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming into the wall in a steady rhythm that matches the beating of your heart. The room is filled with the sounds of your passion, the slapping of skin on skin, the harsh breaths, and desperate moans that fill the air like a symphony of desire.

Your nails dig into the smooth skin of his back, leaving swollen red marks on his tanned skin, your pussy clenching around him as he continues to thrust into you. With each move of his hips, you become more and more needy, gasping and moaning his name.

Sergei’s movements stutter, his hips pushing flush against yours, his head digging into your g-spot. His thick cock swells inside of you as your grip around him, your body coaxing his orgasm out of him.

He buries his face into your neck, moaning lowly as he fills you with his warmth. You arch up into him, spasming around his still-hard length.

“Fuck, oh fuck…” you whine, eyes fluttering shut as he collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you to his chest.

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amyispxnk · 3 days ago

Text

Silent Night

Summary - You're back from college for the holidays, and you've decided on exactly what you want for Christmas - Joel Miller's cock.

A/N: this was such a last minute fic im ngl rn. wasn't even planning on posting a Christmas fic, let alone my FIRST dbf joel miller smut?? anyway, i hope everyone enjoys. happy Christmas<3

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, some good ole daddy kink, age gap (20+ years), Joel is pretty pervy in this, alcohol, divorce mentions. Not proofread because I'm tired

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

When you left for college all that time ago, Joel didn't have any strong feelings towards you. You were his best friend's kid, so naturally he saw you often, and got close with you. You were a sweet kid, kind, smart (more than him, he reckoned), and very.. determined when you wanted to be.

Now you're back for Christmas, and as he sees you exiting your dad's car, hurrying over to him, yelling “Joel! Joel! Oh, I missed you so much!” he realises how fucked up his mind might be.

Any normal guy who was reuniting with a girl he'd known since she was a teenager, and a girl he had at least 20 years on, would not be looking at how her tits bounced in her crop top, or how her leggings were tight enough to let him see just how perfect your ass was.

But Joel wasn't normal, he wasn't a good man, so he was looking for all of those things. If he'd actually been looking at your face, maybe he'd have seen you smirking. Maybe he'd have realised you wore those clothes for exactly this reason.

Joel, or dad's best buddy, Mr Miller, as you'd known him until you were 16 and couldn't be bothered to pay respect to your elders, had been a part of your life for a while.

Ever since your mom took off, Joel was coming around far more often and, in his own gruff and quiet way, was taking care of you more than your own father was at the time.

Nowadays, you didn't really have any resentment towards your father because of this - he'd just gotten divorced, he was going through a rough time.

But teenage you definitely did, and having Joel step in like that definitely left you with mixed feelings.

If things weren't the way they were back then, you'd probably have developed this all-encompassing crush on him even earlier.

When you were leaving for college though, the crush suddenly dived into your life, crashing down and muddling up everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Now, as you returned back home at last, you knew you had to have him, or you feared you might just lose it.

He was everything a girl.. like you, could want right now. Old, brooding, mysterious, and so fucking hot.

So as you hopped over to him where he stood in his front lawn, you made sure to hug him tight and make sure he could really feel that you weren't wearing a bra. You knew he was looking already, so why not let him feel it?

He hesitated for a moment - probably struggling with his boner which you swore you could already feel - before bringing his arms around you and clapping you on the back.

“I missed you so much, Mr Miller.” You hum sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His own eyes almost flutter shut at the name you chose to use for him, and he manages to choke out a soft missed ya too, darlin’.

That darlin’ would be enough to make you come tonight.

Your dad finally turns around after unloading your luggage and turning the car off, greeting Joel before the two of you head to your house.

The next day, it's Christmas Eve. Dinner rolls around, and you check over your makeup one more time. You don't want it to be too much - it would look weird, considering it was only Joel coming over (your dad was a solitary creature) - but you still had to look good for him.

The doorbell rings and you almost trip down the stairs. “I'll get it, dad!” You yell, and he thanks you, completely unaware of your motives.

You open the door, biting back a smirk when Joel immediately looks you up and down, only just managing to tear his eyes away from your chest.

“Hi, Mr Miller. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly.

“Hi, sweetheart… told ya y’dont have ta call me that. Joel's fine.” He says softly, eyes still a little hazy.

You step back to let him inside and immediately take one of the beers he'd brought over once he sets the case down.

“Y’old enough to drink that, honey?” He teases, mind finally out of the gutter for now.

“I'm 21 in like.. a month. It's fineeee.” You smirk, tipping your head back and taking a big swig, showing off the long column of your neck and the swell of your breasts.

His mind is back in the gutter.

Your eyes are off him for now, so he allows him to drink in the sight of you properly. A silly Christmas hat atop your curled, gorgeous hair; red sweater tight around your breasts, little candy-canes dotted around it; your skirt, far too short and he's almost certain you're teasing him now, tights underneath making him want to rip them clean off of you. Your makeup looks perfect, red lips which he knows would look perfect around his cock, mascara which he can picture smudged and ruined from tears and sweat while you fuck-

“Joel, y’made it! Cmon, sit with me.” Your dad grins, and Joel's eyes widen. What the fuck is wrong with him? He cannot be thinking that way about you.

He shakes his head, muttering something to himself before going to sit with your dad.

Joel finally thinks he'll have some reprieve from your incessant teasing, letting out a tired sigh as he sits on the couch, your dad on the armchair.

“Tired already, old man?” Your dad teases.

“You're older than me, asshole.” Joel grunts, earning him a chuckle.

Just then, you appear in the doorway. Of course, of-fucking-course, you'd decide to watch TV with them tonight. It's soccer, for Christ's sake, you'd always get bored out of your mind and run upstairs to go on your phone whenever the game was on.

Not today though, much to Joel's dismay.

“What're you watching?” You ask, sitting beside Joel. He tries to mask his discomfort.

“Just soccer hon, I know you don't like-” your dad starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“No, no! It's fine. I'll try watching it tonight.” You smile softly, and settle in to watch.

You clearly get bored after about 5 minutes, sighing softly.

“You really find this interesting?” You murmur to Joel, now having made yourself comfortable on his shoulder. He tried to make himself as stiff as possible when you first lay on him, but you were persistent as always, and he just gave in.

“Ain't nobody forcin’ you to watch it.” He argues, and you keep quiet after that, eventually getting up to go get the food ready.

Dinner is yet another trial for Joel. You've gotten just as frustrated and impatient as he is, it seems.

Leaning in front of him when serving the food, giving him a clear view of your tits. Not to mention you never serve food, set the table, but all of a sudden you're acting like little miss helpful today.

‘Accidentally’ dropping a cup and bending over in his eyeshot to pick it up.

Sitting beside him at the table instead of with your dad.

When your hand moves to his thigh, he bolts upright, earning him a look from your dad.

“Bathroom,” is all he can get out before he's rushing upstairs.

“Fucking kid. Thinks she can fuckin’.. pull all this shit with me.. thinks she can act like this in front of her dad.. fuck me.” He mutters to himself, despite undoing his belt and pulling his cock out, barely stifling his groan when he spits on his palm and starts tugging at his length so fast it's almost painful.

His mind conjures up all sorts of unholy images, and he's on the brink of release when- “Mr Miller,” you coo, knocking on the door. “is everything okay? You've been gone for like 10 minutes. Was it something in the food?”

He's so angry, so pent-up, he wants to pull you in here and just fuck that goddamn attitude out of you.

He's deathly silent, flushing, turning on the sink as he pulls his pants up, blue-balled like he'd never been before, and exiting the bathroom.

“Everything is fine.” He grits out, fists clenched as he walks past you. You eye his bulge and smirk before practically skipping down the stairs.

“He said everything's fine, daddy.” You smile to your dad, and he almost collapses. He swears he sees god for a second.

That word coming out of your mouth should absolutely not turn him on like it just did - but it did.

The rest of dinner, he's almost silent, just gulping down beer and chewing on his now cold turkey. You don't try anything with him, actually a little afraid he might just get up and leave.

Instead, you wait until the movie.

Your dad puts Die Hard on, and after a lengthy argument about whether or not it even counts as a Christmas movie, - you insist it's not and will carry that with you to the grave - you settle beside Joel.

Joel thinks he's made it through the worst of the evening, but then you shiver. You shiver again, and then you pout, and he feels obliged to ask.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.. can I have some of the blanket?” You whisper. Your dad is practically falling asleep in the armchair.

He goes to hand you the blanket, and you, devious as ever, put it over both of your laps, cuddling up to Joel even more.

He's on full alert right now, stiff as a log, waiting for your next game.

The movie goes on, and then your hand creeps under the sheet. Moving from the side, to your own lap, to his arm, then to his leg-

“What're you-” he grunts, but you just shush him.

“I'm trying to watch the movie, Joel.” You huff, as if your hand isn't on his cock right now.

His eyes are darting between you, the screen, his lap under the blanket, and your dad. Way too much is going on, and as you start palming him, he lets out the most pained groan. He sees you biting your lip and he's so angry, so horny, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Your dad suddenly wakes up, and the bubble pops. You pretend you're asleep on Joel's shoulder, and you know you've won when Joel tells your dad to just go on up, that he'll make sure she gets to bed.

As soon as your dad's bedroom door shuts, Joel grabs your jaw, glaring at you.

“Exactly what the fuck do you think you're doing, little girl?” He spits, and you giggle softly.

“‘m not doing anyth- ow, Joel!” You whimper when he squeezes your cheeks together.

“You gonna tell the truth now? Gonna answer me properly?” He says, tone and eyes cold as the ice on your driveway.

You nod, trying to stifle your whimper. He eases the grip on your jaw, still holding it, before asking you again.

“What do you think you're doing?” He says through clenched teeth, and you know he's not fucking around anymore.

“I.. I just..” Fuck it, you may as well shoot your shot, otherwise what was the point of everything tonight anyway?

“I wanted you to fuck me, Joel.”

Creak goes the step at the top of your staircase, and you squeak, jumping off the couch as Joel pulls the blanket and a pillow over his lap. You rush upstairs past your dad, hurriedly bidding him goodnight before slamming your door.

“Just came to grab my phone. Everythin' alright..?” He asks, brows furrowed at your skittish behaviour.

Joel nods, and your dad leaves him alone.

His cock has been throbbing for hours. So long that it's actually painful. But now he can't do anything. You and your dad are upstairs, you'll be asleep in 5 minutes, and Joel will just have to pretend it's your pussy wrapped around his length when he fucks his fist in the guest bedroom tonight.

Guilt gnaws away at him as he cleans his come off of his hand and stomach, tossing the tissues into the bin before changing into some sweats and managing to fall asleep after half an hour of tossing and turning.

The world seems to hate him, since he wakes up at 2am, heading to the bathroom only to walk past your bedroom and hear you moaning. He can't make out what you're moaning - but he has a good idea - and he's thankful your doors are quiet when he opens the one to your room.

You're facing away from the door, legs spread, face in your pillow as your hips buck, fingers working your pussy furiously.

“Joel, Joel, fuck-” you gasp, whimpering as you get close.

Fuck this.

If he didn't get to come for the entire evening, you did not get to come right now.

He walks over to you, morales abandoned, and growls your name.

You squeak, biting your lip as you turn and look at him. You'd been so close, but now you're too petrified to finish.

“Joel, I-”

“Not another word.”

It's the last thing he says before he flips you back onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the pillows.

“You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up while I fuck this needy pussy. You understand me?”

You part your lips to reply, earning a spank to your ass.

“Can't fuckin’ listen, can ya? No talking, baby.”

You nod, whimpering as he pushes your head back down and pulls your soaked panties off, tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, look at her. Drippin’ for me, ain't she? Didn't know you were such a slut, babygirl.” He teases, knuckles dragging along your slit, and you cry into the pillow, hips bucking back against his hand.

Another spank, making you moan, trying to stop your hips from bucking once more.

“You take what you're fucking given. Do you understand me?”

You nod, having learnt from your mistakes.

“Good girl. Knew you could listen for me.” He coos, before he's thrusting two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat.

You gasp and whine, moaning his name into the pillow, almost tearing your sheets with how hard you grip them.

“That's right.. moan my name. Fuckin’ slut.” He grunts, head ducking down to tease your clit with his tongue. You almost lose it, starting to clench hard and fast around his fingers. You're right on the edge when he pulls away.

“Joel!” You practically sob, deflating as your orgasm drifts away.

“Shh, shh. You thought you could tease me all night and still get off? Y’thought wrong, honey.” He coos, mocking, pulling down his sweatpants and slicking up his cock with your wetness, giving you no warning as he starts to push in.

“Ohh, fuck. Knew you'd be tight for me, baby. That's it, good girl.” He groans, bottoming out. He allows you to cry his name into the pillow, but when he starts really fucking you, it gets too much.

He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you, making you almost scream, back arching and hips bucking - unsure if you want him to get out, or fuck you even harder.

He decides for you, starting to pound into you. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans, his heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin.

“Joel- Joel- pl-please I'm gonna come- please Daddy-” you moan, and his hips stutter before he's pulling you up by your hair, his back to your chest when he resumes his aggressive thrusts.

“Shut- the fuck- up.” He pants in-between thrusts, and you whimper, brows drawing together as you get close. He starts rubbing your clit and you see stars, unable to stop yourself from coming.

“Fuckfuckfuck yes, yes daddy- oh my god-” you sob, before he's pulling out and manhandling you onto your back, thrusting back inside to the hilt, palm covering your mouth.

“You better shut up right now unless you want your real daddy to wake up, find us here like this-” you curse silently when you clench around him at the thought - what is wrong with you?

“Oh, you like that? Dirty fucking girl. Such a slut for daddy, huh?” You clench tighter at that, and his thrusts speed up, pace irregular. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.”

His hand leaves your mouth and you cover it yourself, not wanting to anger him anymore.

“‘s okay, baby.” He murmurs, taking your hand from your mouth and leaning down to kiss you. As he does, his hand goes to your clit, and you moan loudly, muffled slightly by the kiss, as your back arches off the bed and you come so hard you see stars, setting off his own release and making him groan, biting your shoulder as he fills you up.

It's quiet for a moment, save for your shared panting, before he pulls out.

“Fuck, honey..” he murmurs, watching your shared fluids dribble out of your cunt, gathering them up on his fingers and pushing them back into your tight hole.

“Made such a mess, didn't we?” He says softly, brushing your hair away from your eyes as you giggle softly, nodding.

“That was so good.” You whisper, and he nods, gathering you up in your arms.

“Joel, you can't stay in here-” you mutter, confused.

“Just relax, honey. I'll leave in the mornin’. Just let me hold you for now.”

You're utterly perplexed, but you're definitely not complaining, swallowed up by his warmth and drifting off within a minute.

The next morning, you're opening presents, and you bite your lip when he reads his card from you. At the bottom, you'd added - come to my room afterwards for the second part of your gift - and when he comes upstairs afterwards, it's safe to say he doesn't leave for a good hour.

Dividers by @adornedwithlight <3

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a good Christmas everyone!! ❤️

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soupsyournatural · 1 day ago

Conversation

Season 5 Lucifer: I'm fighting because I don't understand why the people I loved most abandoned me over a matter I feel so strongly about and I desperately need to prove why I still believe I'm right because I feel like it will validate my more questionable actions and maybe make my brother and Dad love me again because literally everything I do is about proving that I'm not the monster unworthy of their love that they made me out to be. I consider myself morally-superior and to represent justice on a level that everyone else is too brainwashed to realise is right. I truly believe I'm the good guy. I treasure my one true vessel as someone who was promised to me eons ago and promised to be the one being who would finally understand the way I think and why I do things because we're one in the same. We're two halves made whole whether either of us like it or not so as I've been alone for centuries Sam has been the only ray of hope I have clung to, not just for my own sake, but with pity knowing he is destined to suffer the same I have, so when we are finally together we can console and take comfort from each other with an understanding no one else in the universe will ever share.

Season 11 Lucifer: I do bad stuffs because I'm the big scary bad guy.

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suguruspit · 2 days ago

Text

Lockjaw

warnings: oral sex (f!receiving), come eating, Gojo is a certified munch, situationship, exhibitionism, masturbation (reader), semi-public sex, car sex, f!ngering, squirting, overstim, dancing around feelings, panties fetish (?), eating out with panties on

A/N: Gojo Satoru being a complete nasty freak and munch is something that is very special to me. He definitely uses those six eyes for inappropriate things don't even JOKE (this was a request :P)

It was a random hook-up that started his slight obsession. On and off for years, and this particular part of his kinky nature never came to light.

"I'm serious, Gojo." You snort, the tip of your finger swirling around the rim of your glass as you rest your chin in your hand. "I'm not the type of girl to lose my panties to the first guy who makes a pass at me."

Gojo studies you, eyes hidden under that thick black fabric as he hums, stretching his legs out as he stands up from his bar stool, holding out a hand to you as you raise an eyebrow in response.

"I'll take you home." A simple sentence, one that he says with such ease that you don't think anything of it, despite him practically begging to let him get you off in bathroom.

It's not like the two of you haven't shared a bed before, admittedly you'd been thinking about texting him a simple 'you free?' earlier before he'd walked straight into the bar you were in- but, he's just your coworker now.

Walking into that damn school and immediately thinking about The Gojo Satoru on his knees with his mouth buried in your pussy had made working with him a complete nightmare. There's only so many times you can excuse yourself to the bathroom to bury your fingers in yourself for some kind of relief. Thus; the ban.

"I don't know.." You eventually reply, your voice full of uncertainty despite the fact that your body is already up and moving off the stool, and you smile to yourself as Gojo wraps his jacket around your shoulders, leaving him in that ridiculously tight white shirt. "I guess you're a safer option than a random man."

"Gee, thanks." Gojo snorts, offering you his elbow with an exaggerated bow, making you laugh as you stumble slightly on your way back to the car.

It's cold out, which is part of the reason why you'd gone straight to the bar after your bad mission instead of just walking it off. Plus, there's nothing a little wine can't fix after Shoko has actually fixed you.

You shiver a little as you pull Gojos' jacket a little tighter around yourself. The cold air is making the wetness of your panties a lot more obvious, and your cheeks burn with both shame and alcohol as you walk unsteadily back to that fancy ass car you knew Gojo would have driven all the way here.

"You know," Gojo says with a joy in his voice that makes you wince. It's never a good sign when he's confident, even less when he's full on grinning like a shark down at you. "I know you've made yourself all messy just thinking about my offer."

Fuck. This was a trap.

"You've been avoiding my calls," Gojo continues, sniffing as he opens the back door to his car, patiently waiting for you to slide yourself onto the seats, which you do albeit a little hesitantly.

The cold leather against your wet panties has you biting your lip and Gojo just grins at you, leaning on the car door all cocky with his frustrating smirk as he asks you; "You sure I can't convince you?"

Your hand clutches your skirt a little too tightly, the black Jujutsu uniform that was built to be lightweight suddenly feeling suffocating.

"I meant it-" You start, as you look back at him with fluttering eyelashes and a semi-serious expression. You pout your lips purposefully as you spread your legs the tiniest amount, anticipation shooting through your spine as you notice him start to breathe harder. "My panties, staying on."

An odd hill for you to die on, but apparently it wasn't a hill that would stop Gojo as he's clambering into the back of the car and folding his long legs with a heavy 'fuck'.

You let out a moan as you look down in front of you, Gojo is balancing himself in-between the sets of seats so that he can be eye-level with your cunt, bandana pushed up into that messy white hair as his eyes practically glow in the dark car. It's electric the way he looks at you, and you bite your hand as he lowers his nose, breathing in the scent of your arousal with a low groan.

"Not a problem, princess."

"You're such a freak," You breathe out, but you aren't really one to talk as you feel yourself getting even wetter as he nips and bites at your plush thighs. You rest your head on the headrest as you shuffle your hips down, letting out a little sob as Gojos' tongue finally drags its way up your wet underwear.

It's perverted, the way that it gets you wriggling and writhing. That wet cotton sticks to you as he starts swirling his tongue on your clit, the texture of the fabric dragging against you with each movement making the pleasure all that more unbelievable.

It's wet, spit and slick noises filling the car as he groans and whines into your pussy, thanking you over and over as he palms himself, never faltering in his open-mouthed kisses to your pretty pink lacy panties, suckling gently over the slightly raised mound of your clit after at least ten minutes of teasing.

"Fuck, I-" You breathe out, the air so thick that your chest is heaving. Your thighs are aching from the way he's using both strong hands to hold them open, your hands buried in those snowy locks as you force his mouth to where you want it, practically riding his face in the back of his fancy-ass car. "Holy shit, I'm going to cum."

Gojo just nods desperately through your struggling words, jaw and tongue moving even faster as he whines with flushed cheeks and spit-shiny lips into you, his hand leaving one of your thighs to rub himself off, and that sight is what gets you shaking.

"Fuck, Gojo." You whine as you reach your peak, hips stuttering and fingers tightening in his hair. The sight of him sobbing into your pussy as his chest tinges pink and the front of his pants get darker has you staggering through a second wave, your orgasm dripping through your panties sluggishly and covering the back seat of the car. "Holy shit."

Gojo pulls back, absolutely wrecked. His face is adorably pink, eyes half-lidded as he looks at you with a satisfaction that has your heart stuttering. There's your slickness spread across his lips and chin, and he gathers it with his thumb just to push it past his own lips with a cocky grin, all teeth and charm as you curse.

"Still going to ignore me?"

And ignore him you did, or you tried.

But the stuffy conference room is getting unbearably warm as you shift in your seat, willing your throbbing cunt to stop as you avoid Gojos' gaze across the table.

He's sitting in that ridiculous way he does, ass half in his seat as he sits like its his own personal throne, long legs hanging over the edge of it as he makes a show of dragging his tongue up and down the popsicle he'd opted to eat in the middle of the meeting, much to your own dismay.

The incredibly boring old bastards just sneer at him with disgust as he joyfully sucks on his fingers, swirling his tongue to collect all that sticky juice that had dribbled past his lips and onto those long digits.

It's like your own personal torture, and you bite your lip and send a quick prayer that the ancient elders are too busy scolding your coworker to notice the way your own hand is buried in between your thighs, your skirt just long enough to cover the way your fingers are driving themselves in and out of your pussy.

As an elder starts talking about the newest development in the Zen'in council, you take the time to wiggle out of your panties, leaving them hanging around your ankle riskily.

Your cheeks burn and your heart is hammering as you glance around the table, eyes shifting between your unknowing audience as you force yourself to be quiet.

That pressure is building up your spine, your thighs aching as you shift in your seat, stammering out a quick reply as the man closest to your right asks if you need a break.

"She's alright," Gojo waves his hand as he replies, although you notice his ears are pink and there's a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Fed up of you old bastards, I'm sure."

You shake your head in disagreement, and your fingers are buried knuckle deep in your pussy as you stop for a breath, terrified to move in fear of being caught. There's juices leaking around your fingers, the chair slippery as your folds slide against the chair as you wiggle yourself, full of impatience despite your mental battle.

There's a buzz of your phone, and you bite your lip, glancing around you before deeming it safe enough to check. Your breath leaves you in a half-disguised moan that goes unnoticed around the table as you read it.

Gojo: don't stop now, I know ur close

You could almost cry as you lock eyes with him, and he just winks before divulging into another complaint about an improperly labelled curse. It all turns into background noise as you continue to bully your own cunt, wet walls hugging your fingers tightly as you get closer and closer.

Burying your chin into your chest as you start to reach your peak, tears burn in your eyes as you feel that familiar wet heat stirring in your gut. Fuck, not now.

You panic and make frantic eye contact with your friend across the table, but it's too late as you stutter and your fingers curl just right. Gojo's eyes widen slightly, and he's coughing just loud enough to cover the wet sound of your release flooding the chair.

Thankfully, the elders are already taking their leave, the nicest of them all wishing you better health as he leaves with a polite bow, and you just stammer out a weak 'thank you'.

The silence of the room is embarrassingly loud as you're left to shimmer your panties back on properly, the fabric wet with your own squirt as you wince at the wet-on-wet sensation, too caught up in your own head to notice the way Gojo has stalked his way over.

"What are you-" You try to complain, but it's stolen from you as he shoves your chair away from the table, already sinking to his knees in front of you, groaning at the way your juices spill onto his pants. "Gojo, please."

"Yeah," He replies hoarsely, already pushing his bandana up to keep his hair out of the way as he buries his face where you begged for it, his nose rubbing against your clit as you sob and writhe. "Fuck. You're too much, baby."

"Not your baby," You whine out as his tongue pushes against your clothed folds, making it even more wet and lewd than it already is.

You outright moan as his fingers peel the wet fabric to the side, one of those long digits sliding all the way into your cunt, curling up and finding that spongy spot immediately, already working on milking a second orgasm out of you.

It's embarrassing how fast that high is creeping up your spine, the way your clit pulses and the way your walls tighten as Gojo sets to work, that overly obnoxious mouth for once silent as its full of you.

The sounds of Gojos' sloppy make-out session with your pussy filling the silent room, and you bite your hand to stop yourself from crying out as your toes curl in anticipation.

It's always so intense with Gojo, those damn Six Eyes knowing every inch of your body biblically and hitting those pleasure points ruthlessly - all you can do is hang on as best you can. And that's what you do, shaking fingers weaving into his hair as you pull and twist and whine as he alternates between delicate circles and hard swipes with his tongue.

The sloppy and wet sounds of your pussy pull you out of that foggy haze, your folds slick and shining from where they're parted with Gojos' nose, his blue eyes focused on you as he pumps his fingers in and out to the rhythm of his tongue. You babble something incoherent as your orgasm builds, your back tensing as you feel that unmistakable wave.

Gojo just curls his fingers once more and holds the pressure, his other hand pressing down on your lower belly, making you practically shout as you gush down his forearm, the force of it almost making you black out as it lasts forever.

And he sweet talks you the whole time.

"So fucking good princess, fuck, look gorgeous-shit" He groans, eyes rolling back as he fucks his own fist, panting and looking up at you with pleading eyes and flushed cheeks. "Let me finish on you, please."

You whimper out a 'yeah, do it baby' and that's all it takes for that milky-white sticky cum to paint your stomach, some of it hitting your chin as you moan, taking in the way his eyes screw shut and his jaw locks as he strokes himself through it.

Gojo whispers out a hoarse 'thanks' before his forehead rests against your thighs, he kisses and bites them gently as he regains his breath, and you soothe the pulled locks of hair with your fingertips.

If only you weren't planning on calling in sick to completely avoid him tomorrow.

That plan only worked for so long, there's only so many times you can ask to trade missions before people start to get curious, especially Nanami.

"You won't work with him, and that's not what's best efficient for the entire team."

You groan as you walk, dragging your feet and hanging your head as you follow him to the hall. He's not wrong, but how do you tell your perfectly respectable friend that the reason you can't work with him is because you act like a bitch in heat whenever you see his stupid fucking face?

"Perhaps," Nanami hesitates as he speaks, that normally monotone voice breaking unevenly. You look up at him curiously, only to find him watching you kindly already. "You could try to transfer?"

To Kyoto? Yeah. No thanks. You scoff to yourself, hoping he doesn't pick up on it. If he does, he's too gentlemanly to say anything, unlike a certain somebody.

"It's alright, I'll talk to him tonight after some liquid courage." You affirm, hoping you sound a lot more confident than you feel as you reach out for the door with a shaking hand.

Tonight being the staff party that Gojo and Shoko insisted on. You'd be lying if you weren't a little bit hopeful, your best baby-blue lacy set sitting neatly underneath a low-cut black cocktail dress. Normally, you'd say this is how you always dressed for a party. And normally, Nanami would pretend you were telling the truth.

"You're too good for him." Nanami simply says as you both step in, already cringing at the volume level. Both Tokyo and Kyoto teachers had come together, meaning the more rowdy bunch from Kyoto were already leading the party. "If you need me, text. Try not to, though."

And with that, you're alone.

You hum to the music, swaying a little bit as you make your way to the drinks table without looking like it was your one and only goal. You probably fail, but Shoko is there to hand you a red plastic cup and grin at you as you sigh in relief at the strong smell emanating from it.

"He's gone to get ice." She simply says, rolling her eyes at your fake attempt to seem uninterested. "In fact, he's been a while. Check that he hasn't warped himself into a coma, will you?"

You startle a bit at that, cradling your cup to your chest as you read her face for any tells that she's lying.

"He's done that?" You ask doubtfully, but you've already set your cup down in preparation for the hunt down.

"Not since we were kids." Shoko shrugs, and then she's shooing you off.

It doesn't take long, there's only so many freezers in the building, and there was no way he as hiding in the main kitchen. No, he's in the stupid dorm kitchen that you all used to share as kids.

"You get lost?" He calls out to you as you curse at the cold air, hands rubbing your arms as you step through the doorway with an unimpressed pout. "Ice machine is taking a while, tell Shoko to cool her tits."

"Incredible," You mutter as you take in his outfit. Tight black pants paired with a cream sweater that's practically hanging off his sharp collarbones, his hair down for once. He also has those sunglasses on that you find hot, despite being nothing particularly special. "You're almost thirty, stop talking like a frat boy."

He pouts at that, faking a tear-wipe with his finger as he hangs his head. You resist a smile as you watch him, instead choosing to hop up onto the counter with practised ease from your youth.

"Can't you like, infinity it faster?" You ask, just to wind him up. All these years, an on and off relationship, and you still pretend to not understand his technique because you know that really gets under his skin.

"You suck." Gojo says as he sticks his tongue out, but you see the way his eyes undress you, the way he lingers his gaze on your thighs. You sigh, and shimmy your hips down.

"I'd offer to get undressed, but something tells me you'd prefer me to keep the panties on."

That has him freezing from his current path towards that sweet spot between your thighs, looking up at you like a deer caught in headlights. You just hum, spreading your thighs.

"Well go on then," You say nonchalantly, letting your thighs fall even more open, exposing the flimsy black lace that covers your pretty pussy, the sheen of arousal already evident. "You have five minutes before Shoko and Nanami come looking for me."

Gojo lets out a cocky laugh, pulling his sweater off as he rolls his neck. Those ridiculous abs already pulled tight as he crouches, looking up at you under those stupid sunglasses that you love so much;

"Plenty of time."

You just laugh through your own moans as he gets to work.

Gojo never thought he'd get the chance to taste you so freely, after you broke things off the last time he thought that might have been it. But he's Satoru Gojo, he wouldn't be himself if he didn't push his luck, especially with you.

The first time he eats you out with your panties still on, it's an accident. One of the last times you'd been together, you were wearing this honey gold set that had drove him crazy, his spit and your slick mixing so deliciously over that fucking lace that it unlocked something in him.

Then, you'd decided that what you both had wasn't working, and all he was left with was that pair of honey gold lace panties to work over his dick desperately as he chased that memory of the way you came with your panties half-stuffed inside you from his tongue.

When he'd gotten the chance to eat you out after that visit from the bar, he'd been so excited to get his tongue on you, on that rough lace, that as soon as you'd finished all over his tongue, that honey-sweet thick taste that drove him crazy, he'd cum in his pants like a horny teenager.

The second time he was more prepared, as soon as he'd noticed your beautiful flushed cheeks as you wiggled across the table from him, he'd used his Six Eyes to watch your every move, getting harder and harder as you got yourself off in a room full of unsuspecting old geezers. It took everything in him not to bust as you fucking squirted, his cough managing to cover that lewd sound that drove him crazy. As you got yourself through that haze, he'd told them all to get fucked and that he'd talk with them one-by-one at a later date.

Getting on his knees and holding your knees up as he cleaned you up through your dripping wet finish was the next best thing to being in you. And your reaction when he'd added a single finger? Fuck.

The staff party was his final straw, eating you out and holding your hips as you rode his face in your old dorms, even though you knew his perverted little secret. He knew he had to patch things up with you.

Currently, he's up to the hilt in you, rubbing soothing circles into the plush flesh of your thigh as you breathe through the sudden fullness of him. All that smart-mouthing you loved to do to him, gone the second he'd peeled the pretty purple panties to the side and slid right in.

Your walls are so tight, pussy so fucking perfect. And he tells you, whispers it right into your ear as he rocks gently into you despite the urge to fuck you raw.

"Shut the fuck up, Satoru." You'd moaned back, still as feisty as the day you'd met. He grinned into your shoulder, biting down onto your ear lobe as he tuts his disapproval.

"If you truly hated me, you wouldn't keep wearing these frilly little things." And he watched in total satisfaction as you turned a cute shade of pink.

Yeah. Fucking made for him, alright.

And if you used his black card to purchase as many lace sets as you could find, who was he to stop you?

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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writingwithciara · 1 day ago

Text

blinking lights -quinn hughes-

summary: with planes grounded for the holiday due the snow storm, y/n & quinn are forced to spend christmas together. but oddly enough, neither of them seem to mind much

word count: 3.4k

pairing: quinn hughes x roommate!reader

note: i LOVE writing roommate quinn honestly

"i'm sorry mom. i won't be able to make it home this year. all flights out of vancouver are cancelled." y/n looked at the website opened on her laptop. her mom was sighing on the other end of the line. "i know. i'm sorry. but i should be able to visit in the new year. i promise."

"it's okay honey. i'm just glad that you'll be safe." her mom sighed again. "are your roommates stranded too?"

"i'm not sure. quinn left earlier to catch a flight so it's a possibility."

"well for you sake, i hope you're not alone for the holidays."

"i hope so too, mom." y/n looked up when the door opened. "gotta go, mom. quinn's home."

"okay sweetie. i'll call you tomorrow."

"alright. sounds good. love you."

as y/n hung up, quinn sat next to her on the couch.

"no luck?"

"unfortunately." y/n sighed and closed her laptop. "i'm guessing the same goes for you?"

"yeah. it kinda sucks. it's the first christmas i won't be able to see my family."

"at least neither of us will be alone this year."

"fair point." quinn chuckled and turned on the tv. "what should we watch?"

"frosty the snowman. always makes me feel better."

"got it." quinn smiled and put the movie on. he glanced around the bare apartment. "since we'll both be here for christmas, why don't we decorate? we can also combine traditions and do them together."

"i guess it beats sitting in an empty apartment. we definitely need some christmas spirit in this place."

"strongly agree. we'll go out tomorrow to get some decorations and we'll make a day of decorating and traditions."

"alright." y/n turned her attention to the tv screen. "my mom is supposed to call me tomorrow and she may want to talk to you."

"why?"

"i don't know. i suppose it's because i talk about you a lot but i think she's not sure if you're a guy or a girl. never really specified, honestly." she smiled. "i'm only telling you now so you're not completely shocked when she calls."

"alright." he smiled. "should i expect any questions?"

"she'll probably asked why i'm living with you and stuff like that."

"okay. i think i can handle it." quinn smiled.

after the movie, they both went to their rooms to get some sleep. decorating their apartment was going to be a huge task but if anyone could do it, it's y/n & quinn.

the next morning, y/n woke up early and sent her mom a text.

hey mom. i'm going shopping with quinn today and we're gonna be decorating our apartment after. i'll call you later, alright? love you <3

the second she heard quinn moving around in his room, she smiled and put on a pot of coffee. y/n watched him walk into the kitchen slowly. he smiled at her and sat at the counter.

"ready to shop for decorations today?"

"you bet." y/n smiled and poured them each a cup of coffee. she was excited to spend more time with quinn than she was used to. for the past 3 years, she had been harboring a crush on her roommate but the timing to tell him was never right. he was almost always in a relationship and his girlfriends barely liked her. they tolerated her, at best. and that was why she didn't spend a whole lot of time with him.

when the time came, quinn drove them to the seasonal store downtown. they went their separate ways once inside so they could get the decorations faster and have more time putting everything up.

while walking down the 'gifts for her' aisle, quinn saw something on the shelf that he knew y/n would love. it was so perfectly her that he just couldn't pass it up. he couldn't help the way his heart beat faster just thinking of what her reaction would be. he was so far gone for her but didn't want to risk pushing her away. especially not when she was finally spending time with him again.

it took 20 minutes to get everything and quinn insisted on paying for everything. he didn't y/n to see the gift he was getting her.

when they got home, quinn quickly hid the gift in his room, deciding he would wrap it tonight and give it to her in the morning. by the time he made it back to the living room, y/n had all the decorations sorted out in piles based on each room they were going to work on.

"so i figured you could get started in the kitchen while i worked out here. fair warning, i may need your help after."

"then why don't we work together?" he chuckled. "wouldn't that make more sense?"

"well i was going to play christmas music and when i dance, it looks weird."

"i highly doubt that." he smiled. "i've seen you dance before."

"that was always choreographed or because i was drunk. but i'm sober and don't want to make a fool of myself."

"y/n, i don't think you're capable of doing such a thing. just let me help you out here."

"alright, fine. but no judging me on my dance moves, hughes."

"i would never." quinn smiled and grabbed a box of lights. he grabbed the necessary items to get started while y/n put some music on the speaker. "wanna start on opposite ends and meet in the middle?"

"yes sir." y/n grabbed the other decorations and went across the room. halfway through the 3rd song, quinn was done hanging lights. he turned to look at y/n. she was dancing and in her own little world and quinn couldn't help but admire her more. how could she think she'd look like a fool? he thought she was beautiful and one day, he was going to get the courage to tell her.

when y/n turned around to grab something, she noticed quinn staring at her. it suddenly made her self conscious. "what?"

"nothing. i was just watching you dance."

"oh. i'm sorry about that. i told you i looked like a fool when i dance sober."

"quite the opposite actually. it was pretty cute." he chuckled and headed to the kitchen to start decorating, leaving y/n to stare with red cheeks.

it took her a minute to follow but when she finally got to the kitchen, quinn was already halfway through decorating.

"wow. you work fast." y/n smiled and instead of offering to help, she just leaned against the counter and watched him.

"yeah. sorry about that. i just couldn't help myself. i know you wanted to help with the decorating."

"no. it's perfectly fine. i like observing." y/n smirked and pulled out a mug. she poured herself some hot chocolate and sipped it while quinn went back to work. while he worked, y/n climbed onto the counter and smiled. this was the perfect way to admire quinn without feeling too guilty.

by the time quinn was finished, y/n had a mug of hot chocolate made for him. when she handed it to him, their fingers brushed against each other, causing y/n to draw her hand back quickly. the moment was interrupted when y/n's phone was ringing. she glanced down at the caller id.

"it's my mom." y/n showed him the phone and hit the 'accept' button. her moms face filled the screen in seconds. "hey mom."

"hey sweetie. how's your day?"

"it's good. quinn and i have been decorating for an hour. the place looks amazing. wanna see it?"

"in a minute. i want to meet your roommate."

y/n looked up and held the phone out to quinn. he took it and moved to stand beside y/n so they'd both be on the screen.

"hi. it's nice to finally meet you."

"oh my. you're certainly not what i was expecting."

"y/n informed me that you would say something like that." he smiled.

"how's it going, living with my baby?"

"mom!" y/n turned her face into quinn's shoulder while he chuckled.

"it's great. we're having the best time." he couldn't stop smiling. y/n's head fit perfectly in his shoulder. it was like a dream come true to have her this close. "she's amazing and probably my best friend."

"i'm glad she has such a good friend, honestly. i was so worried about her."

"you don't have to worry about her now. she's in good hands." he chuckled and threw his arm around y/n's shoulder. she grabbed the phone from him and smiled.

"alright. we gotta finish decorating. i'll talk to you later. bye mom. i love you."

"bye you guys. love you too."

after she hung up, y/n turned to quinn. "i'm your best friend, huh?"

"yeah, actually." he turned to stand across from her. "and it kind of hurt when you distanced yourself a little bit over the last 2 years. thought it was something i did. but i'm really glad you're coming back around."

"yeah i'm sorry about that. but none of your girlfriends liked me so i thought it'd be easier for your relationships if i wasn't around a whole lot."

"why didn't they like you?"

"i don't know." y/n shrugged and turned to refill her mug. "but for the record, you're my best friend too."

"glad to hear it." quinn smiled slightly before walking out to the living room. although he had just called her his best friend, he didn't like hearing the word come from her mouth.

"quinn," y/n called out after him as she followed him into the living room. "i'm never going to distance myself from you again, okay? it was hurting me too."

"i'm sorry you felt like you had to give me space. and i'm really sorry they didn't like you. i don't understand why they didn't. you're one of the most likeable people i know."

"i try to be. and i don't understand why they didn't. but it's all in the past and i've learned from my mistakes." y/n sat and looked at him. "i can never stay away from you, quinn. it'll probably kill me."

"well i'm glad you're sticking around because it would probably kill me too, if i'm being honest." he turned to face her and smiled. "so, are there any traditions you have with your family that we can do tonight?"

"my mom and i usually bake cookies and eat some random take-out while watching home alone or how the grinch stole christmas. but we don't have to do that."

"why not? it sounds like fun."

"you'd really want to bake cookies with me?" y/n's eyes widened and she couldn't help the way her smile grew.

"of course. if it makes you happy, then i'll do anything."

y/n tried to ignore the way her heart wanted to beat out of her chest. never in her life had she met a guy so willing to do anything she had asked. it took everything in her not to launch herself across the couch and kiss him. she had to keep reminding herself that they were just friends.

while they baked cookies, both of them enjoyed the closeness of the other. side by side and covered in flour. usually, quinn hated messes but with y/n, he didn't care.

when they put the cookies in the oven, quinn wiped his hands on a towel.

"i'm gonna go take a shower. you order dinner and pick out the movie. i'll be out in a bit." quinn didn't wait for her to reply. he just headed into the bathroom to shower. he spent half an hour in their and when he got out to get dressed, he realized that with his quick exit, he forgot to grab a new shirt from his room. the one he was wearing was covered in flour but luckily the rest of his clothes were fine. he put on his shorts and walked out into the hallway.

y/n looked up from the couch and watched quinn walk into his room. she only got a brief look at him but she was still speechless, regardless of having seen him without a shirt many times. she quickly turned her attention to the tv when he came walking back out to join her on the couch.

"food should be here in 10 minutes and i decided to go with home alone this year. is that okay?"

"it's perfect." quinn smiled and threw his arm around the back of the couch. the couch was big enough for at least 7 people but they were sitting on the same cushion. not close enough to be touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of each other. and every few seconds, quinn's thumb would rub against y/n's shoulder. but neither of them seemed to care.

when the food arrived, quinn went to grab it. and when he sat back down, he was closer to y/n than before. as they ate, y/n tried not to focus on the closeness of her best friend. it was hard but she was able to do it.

until he swung his arm back over the couch. he may as well have just placed it across her shoulder with the way his hand was resting there. as they watched the movie, quinn had moved his arm down to where it was actually resting across y/n. she looked at him with an innocent smile, which he adored, then went back to watching the rest of the movie.

when the movie was finally over, y/n stood up and stretched. "well i'm gonna get ready for bed."

"before you do, i was wondering if you wanted to take part in one of my family's traditions."

"it's not going to be something weird, is it?"

"no." he smiled. "unless you count wearing matching pajamas to bed on christmas eve."

"oh my gosh. my family does the same thing." y/n giggled. "wait, do we have matching pajamas?"

"yeah. i bought them a few days ago and was intending to give you a pair before i left for the holidays but i guess it was just meant to happen this way. be right back." quinn smiled and ran to his room. he returned seconds later with the pjs. "i hope you like them."

"they're a gift from you, quinn. i always like those." y/n smiled and headed into her room to change. quinn did the same and they managed to come out at the same time. all he could so was admire the way the clothes fit y/n perfectly. "how did you know my size?"

"because i know you." quinn chuckled, not wanting to admit it was because he stared at her so long that he memorized everything.

"you're the most perfect roommate, quinn." she smiled and threw her arms around him. "thank you."

he immediately hugged her back. "you're welcome."

"okay. well it's bed time now. i'll see you in the morning. good night quinn." y/n ran off the her room to try to get some sleep. but she knew that would be impossible, due to the overwhelming attraction she was feeling. if she didn't tell quinn soon, her emotions were going to shut her down.

as quinn sat at the desk in his room, he couldn't stop thinking about how excited y/n had been when she came out in the pjs. he had seen her happy many times but there was just something different this time.

he wrapped her gift neatly and set it down beside his bed. it was going to be the first thing he grabbed in the morning and he hoped she would love it as much as he loved her.

when the sun rose the next morning, quinn grabbed the box and headed out to the kitchen. y/n was normally a morning person so he was surprised that she hadn't woken up yet. he set the box on the counter and began making coffee. just as he was adding the finishing touches to y/n's coffee, she walked out of her room.

"good morning, quinn."

"good morning, y/n" he smiled and handed her the coffee. when she took a sip, her whole body instantly warmed up.

"this is the best coffee i've ever tasted. thank you." she grinned and continued to drink it as they both made their way onto the couch.

"so what else does your family do for christmas?"

"we stay in our pjs all day and spend time together. it's pretty boring but if you're around the right people, you can have the best time."

"well then that's exactly what we will do today." quinn smiled. "oh, before i forget, i have a present for you. close your eyes." he got off the couch and grabbed the gift from the kitchen before returning. "i hope you like it."

y/n unwrapped it carefully and opened the box. she pulled out a teddy bear with a canucks jersey on. and not just any jersey. a demko jersey. he even came with mini goalie pads and a helmet.

"i know how much you love thatcher so when i saw this, i just knew i had to get it for you."

"i love it so much. thank you, quinn." y/n set the bear down and hugged quinn. "i didn't get you anything. i'm sorry."

"it's alright. you being here is enough of a present for me." he rubbed her back and smiled. when y/n pulled back a little, her whole expression had changed. she was still happy but there were tears in her eyes.

"i appreciate that, quinn. but i feel like it's just not enough to make you truly happy."

"y/n, you're more than enough. you are the perfect gift."

y/n smiled and placed her lips on his. he was shocked at first and just as y/n was about to break the kiss, quinn pulled her closer and kissed her back. they stayed in that position for a few minutes before either one of them wanted to let go. when they separated, quinn rested his forehead against y/n's and smiled.

"if i had known that would be the outcome, i would've told you those words a long time ago." he smiled and held her face. "i've been wanting to say it for as long as i've known you but the timing was never right. you had steven and i had my own relationships. but i guess that's kind of a cowards excuse, huh?"

"nothing about you says 'coward', quinn." y/n smiled and closed her eyes. "you're the most kind, patient and sweetest man i've ever known in my life. these last 3 years of random relationships and hook-ups have all brought us to this exact moment. the moment where i can finally tell you that i've had the biggest crush on you for the past 3 years. i know it sounds insane but i like you a lot quinn. and maybe that's why your girlfriends were always jealous. they could probably tell how i felt and they didn't want me around to screw up their chances with you. that's why i had to keep a distance from you. i didn't want to have to make you choose between me and them because it would've been a losing battle for me."

"if that had ever happened, you would've won every single time. i never really cared about all those other girls. the only one that matters to me, is you. and i hope i conveyed that well enough in that kiss."

"seems pretty evident now." y/n smiled and finally opened her eyes. "guess that was kind of stupid of me, wasn't it?"

"not at all." quinn smiled. "like you said, the last 3 years of random relationships have brought us to this moment right here. the most perfect moment." he placed a kiss on her lips again but didn't give her enough time to reciprocate. "i love you, y/n. everything about you is so perfect and it's been driving me crazy for 3 years."

"i can't believe that the planes being grounded are the reason we're here together."

"me either. but i wouldn't change it for anything."

"i wouldn't either." y/n leaned up to kiss him again. "for the record, i love you too."

#nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #nhl fanfic #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes fanfiction #vancouver canucks imagines #quinn hughes imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #qh43

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peppermintquartz · 2 days ago

Text

Read this first

Read this second

Read this third

---

He doesn't like to lose his temper, but this once he wishes he's well enough to physically throw every last one of his visitors out of his room.

He can't, so he uses his words instead. "Get out."

"Buck," Maddie begins placatingly.

"Out!" Buck hates the way she flinches and the way her eyes shimmer with tears, so he turns away from the sight.

"Buck, we didn't mean to lie to you, you needed to rest-" Chimney puts in, but Buck grabs the bottle of water from his meal tray and hurls it in their direction. Chimney catches it before it hits anyone or anything. "Buck!"

"Out! Get out! Get out get out get out!" Buck shouts with all the strength he can muster, and the commotion must have caught the attention of a passing nurse, who firmly ushers Maddie and Chimney away from the room. once he's left alone, Buck collapses back into the pillows. His bruised side hurts and so does his head. His right ankle is throbbing.

The nurse comes back and sets a new bottle of water next to him. "I'm guessing that was not the most restful of visits, Mr Buckley. Let me check your vitals, hmm?"

"They lied to me," Buck mutters. He shuts his eyes and covers them with his forearm, for good measure, while the nurse takes his blood pressure using the other arm. The edges of the bandage around his skull brush against his arm. "They told me Tommy's alright, that he'd been here. They fucking lied to me."

The nurse hums sympathetically. "Who is this Tommy?"

"Tommy Kinard. He's in the ICU." Buck's lips wobble. "He saved my life and he's in the ICU and I can't go to him. They won't let me."

"You are still recovering yourself, Mr Buckley."

Buck sniffs and smiles weakly, lowering his arm to see who the nurse is. "Nick, hi. Everyone calls me Buck."

"Oh, so you're the miracle," Nick says with a smile. Nick looks to be about Tommy's age, his plump features and confident manner very assuring. "They tell me you and your team are frequent visitors. That's not a good thing, Buck."

"Tommy joked that we should have our own wing." Buck can feel his throat closing with emotion. "We,uh, we seem to have pretty bad luck."

"But they call you the miracle. Said you survived being struck by lightning and your heart stopped for over three minutes."

"Three minutes and seventeen seconds."

"Wow," Nick marvels. "That is a miracle." Then he removes the blood pressure cuff and shines a penlight into each of Buck's eyes. "Well, all seems good. I hope this Tommy guy recovers too, Buck."

Just then, Bobby walks in. "Hi, kid. How are we doing?"

"I wanna see Tommy," Buck says immediately.

Bobby's lips tighten. "Buck, I've been to see him. He's... he's unconscious. I don't know if it's a good idea for you to go up there and see him like that."

Fed up, Buck pushes himself off the bed and tries to stand on his one good leg. "I'm sick and tired of everyone telling me what they think I should or shouldn't do, or lying to me, or stopping me from contacting him," he snarls. "Everyone trying to decide what's good for me. I don't give a shit. I want to see him."

When he wobbles, Bobby catches him and sits him back down. Buck is breathing hard, and he doesn't even bother to try to hide his tears of frustration and worry.

"Pops, please," Buck begs, bringing up the old nickname. "He saved my life from Irene. I need to see him. If the worst happens and I didn't even get a chance to... I can't. I can't, Bobby. The look in his eyes before the semi hit us... I need to see him."

Bobby sighs. "Yeah, okay. Let me get you a wheelchair."

"No, crutches will do." Buck grits his teeth. "I can move. My injuries look a lot worse than they are."

"Kid, you were one massive bruise from shoulder to hip, you had a major concussion and you now have seven stitches in your scalp, and you twisted your ankle."

"Tommy's in the ICU," Buck counters. "I'm fine. Crutches."

---

Bobby fills Buck in on the severity of Tommy's injuries as they navigate their way to the ICU. it helps Buck to mentally prepare himself, but seeing Tommy in the bed, unconscious, looking the worse for wear - it breaks something deep inside Buck.

Once the nurses in charge have their information, Buck hobbles over to the chair the other guy - Sal, he thinks, recalling a photo Tommy showed him before of the old 118 - vacates.

Tommy looks horribly frail, connected to too many tubes and wires, his handsome face hidden by the ventilator. His hand is icy cold when Buck holds it.

"Tommy, please," Buck whispers. "I need to say it back. I need to. you can't- You're not allowed to make a dramatic declaration like that and leave me. Baby, you gotta wake up. I have to say it back to you."

He doesn't even know he's weeping until he realizes that the mask on his face is damp from absorbing his tears. Sal and Bobby have retreated outside the door.

Buck squeezes Tommy's cold, limp fingers and presses the back of the hand to his cheek. The monotonous beeps and steady hisses don't change at all.

"You're not allowed to play the hero and exit my life, you understand? You must wake up and get better. I need to apologize and we need to talk, we have so many memories to make together, you can't just leave me like this." Buck is sobbing now, and he feels a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I need to say it back. You gotta wake up so I can say it back."

"Tell him anyway," Bobby says quietly. "Maybe he needs to hear it."

Buck looks over his shoulder and meets Bobby's gentle gaze. Behind him, Sal is watching stoically, but his eyes on Tommy are filled with concern.

Wiping away the tears under his eyes - a futile gesture, since his mask is already pretty wet - Buck leans forward to get as close as he could to Tommy's ear.

"Tommy, I love you. I love you so much. Come back to me so I can prove it." He presses the tip of his nose to Tommy's cheek. "I love you. Please, wake up."

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #tevan #maddie buckley #chimney han #bobby nash #sal deluca #icu arc #pq writes

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somerandomcockroach · 3 days ago

Text

PLEASE WHEEEEEEEEZEEEEEEE

*DYING BIRD SOUNDS*

YES. YES IT'S SWERVE GODDAM I CAN DIE PEACEFULLY

I am dead. I am so dead.

I LITERALLY CAN'T EXPLAIN THE LEVELS OF JOY THIS WHOLE THING IS GIVING ME RIGHT NOW

YES. YES THIS NERD IS VERY GOOD AT IT PRAISE HIM Had a whole new full life on the other planet - "I got carried away"

PLEASE HE RIGHT AWAY KNEW WHAT TO ASK PFFFHT. Get all transformers to pass exams. I bet 60/40 not pass

WHEEEEEEEEEZEEEE OH MY GOD I LITERALLY. THEY. IT'S. THEY WORTH EACH OTHER WHEEEEZEEE

PLEASE SWERVE. TRUE HUMAN IS HORRIFIED AT THE IDEA OF THEIR BROWSER HISTORY, YOU PASSED THE TEST PFFHTTT .... OF COURSE AHHASGAH UM. HE IS ALIVE! I'M HAPPY HE IS AT LEAST ALIVE! *Nods* Onslaught is a genius indeed AH here comes plot

I continues reaching new levels of dead

Please it's.... how the hell... why... he almost burned to death, he needs a rest or at least to properly look after his skin... not this....

*looks in the distance* Pilots need a fricking tiktok or whatever to show their life to become a new group face

*inhale-exhale* THIS GUY OVER HERE ISN'T A SPOILER BRAT AT ALL. AT ALL. I DON'T KNOW FROM WHICH SIDE SPOILED BRAT WOULD DO IT ALL.

*Looks at Jazz* You need to talk Next phrase is him talking to Prowl and Jazz *Sitting back*

*incoherent sounds*

*EVEN WORSE INCOHERENT SOUNDS*

*goes out of the room*IT'S TOO GORGEOUS TO NOT POINT IT OUT BUT ALSO SO HORRIBLE Blurr... my sweet... ahh I love people under painkillers but I have a feeling the same would happen anyway pfffht. Imagine all of problems and now the thoughts of someone dying because of you ahah... great.... P[OFPGOFPIGOIPSEIES JAZZ YOU ARE TOO FRICKING GOOD AT READING PEOPLE, I'm sure he didn't change the mind about Swerve's reason of absence XDDD

DANG IT. DANG. DANGG. FEHJGEDWJHGBJMCW I'M 'BOUT TO PULL YOUR "GHOST" ASS IN FRONT OF HIS FACE FOREVER BEFORE HE ACCIDENTALLY DIES OR SOMETHING. FOR THE GOD'S SAKE *ROLLS ON THE FLOOR FLORRS WALLS LIKE A ROTATED 980 DEGREE SPIDER* HE SAVES HIM, HE GOT OUT TO SAVE HIM HERE. TAKE IT. TALK HIM DOWN. SHOW WHO IS THE TALKY BOSS HERE WITH THE LIBRARY OF A NERD

HMEWDBNBMCHMNBCHMHMHDSHSSHS *SLAMS ON THE KEYBOARD WITH THE HEAD* NO DON'T SHUT UP, BLABBERS, NEVER SHUT UP HELPA DHJGA Don't you love it when two characters blend it and play a bullshit game of no context to get attention out? You better love it because personally I am dying for one more reason It's so IRONIC even to use NORMAN name *BREAKS THE TABLE* HE IS REAL!!!! YEAH!!! MY NERD KNOW MORE ABOUT HUMANS THAN HUMANS DO. PHARMA, GET OUT OF HERE, BLURR HAS A PERSONAL DOCTOR ....Wellllll I mean TECHNICALLY you already failed at keeping all possible secrets, Swerve.....

I'M SORRY I JUST KEFERON, KISSING YOU IN EVERY POSSIBLE KISSABLE PLACE I NEVER THOUGHT I CAN GO THAT CRAZY OVER THIS SPECIFIC PART GOING ON AND HOW THE HELL ARE YOU SO GOOD AT ALL THIS I AM IN SHAMBLES AND SHAKING I LOVE IT TO DEATH AND WANNA PRINT IT

Chapter 2 of Blurr storyline >:D

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head is all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Part one

Holy shit I actually managed to finish it…..Oh. My god.

Under the cut⤵️

Is it stupid to miss someone who doesn't even exist?

Probably yes, but hey, Swerve already has several degrees, might as well get another one. A degree in Stupidity or something. Who cares?

For the first few days after waking up from his coma, he feels like he's going crazy. Everybody has realistic dreams, right? The ones where you can scrutinize every angle, memorize every face and smell and sound. The ones that make you lie still for a while after waking up, grasping at every thing you can. Trying to memorize everyone you meet, imprint them in your head.

Because apart from your mind, they don't exist anywhere else. So that's your only way to keep them.

It never works. Obviously. Details slip away. Impressions fade. Just a couple days, and you won't be able to recall anything but the main events from memory.

Wait, hell, not days. Cycles.

His life is a weird, pathetic, fantastical circus. Earth term. Heh. There are no circuses on Cybertron, haha!

But Swerve remembers. And the word circus, and the smell of asphalt, and rains that were made of water not acid. Remembers the English language. Can speak it fluently, even if you wake him up in the middle of the night.

Remembers his work schedule and remembers which company makes the best details. And Tailgate with his bright blue uniform and Wheeljack with his endless experiments and Swindle with his expensive coat and of course...yeah, no, don't think of Blurr, don't think of Blurr, don't. Don't.

He'd heard about it. Read about it, too. Mechs waking up from comas and doing wild things. Some forgot how to speak at all, some gained a new skill, some lived a whole life while they slept.

Articles tell Swerve, don't worry, what you've experienced isn't unique. The doctor tells Swerve that the same thing has happened to others before you, it will be okay, it will pass.

Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass.

He's been in a coma for who knows how long. The medic said it was caused by an internal trauma that decided to suddenly get worse. One minute he's recharging , the next he's gone. Internal injuries are insidious.

So it turns out. One day he just disappeared from the world because he was busy slowly dying in his room and no one noticed until a thief tried to sneak in. The only one who came to him was a Mech who wanted to steal his stuff. Huh.

That feels revolting. Swerve liked to think he had enough friends. Or at least enough good connections. Enough those who should have noticed his absence, right?

Apparently not. His shifts at work were reassigned, his contacts never texted him first, his...

His small persona wasn't important enough for anyone to notice his disappearance.

Would his human coworkers notice? Would Tailgate have noticed? Or Jazz? Swindle?

Jazz would have noticed, he was always surprisingly attentive when it came to his friends. And he was friends with just about everybody.

Swindle would probably get upset about the money he'd lost.

It's amazing how much his brain-- wait, no, his processor. How much his processor could create to entertain him. It's a more elaborate world than the most complex series Swerve has ever known. And that scrap had forty-six seasons and fifteen encyclopedias!

People, Earth, a bunch of new languages and rules and all for the sake of the end being like, OOPS! ...it was all a dream. Hilarious. Worst plot twist ever. Swerve hates it when stories go in this direction even more than when they kill off their characters.

In his humble opinion, death is better than the revelation that none of the experiences made sense or had any value. In terms of writing scripts obviously. Haha.

He's busy roaming haphazardly through his own memory. He's looking, comparing, trying to find inconsistencies or things that don't make sense. All the stuff that usually gives away the fact that what happened was a dream.

Most of his memories are occupied by--No. Frag.

Don't think about Blurr, don't think about Blurr, don't think..

He's thinking about Blurr. A lot.

Blurr occupies a surprisingly important role in his comatose dreams.

In the time he spent just looking at him, you could hand-build an entire Mech. Maybe even three. Swerve remembers picking up every bit of merch he could reach with his paycheck. Watching hundreds of videos and buying every new themed drink even if it was a flavor he didn't like.

Then spent a surprising amount of time resenting Blurr for not living up to his fantasies.

Blurr's behavior hadn't helped either, of course, but now, looking back at the past himself Swerve thinks that.. Oh wow. You weren't just annoyed at him. You blamed him for ruining your beautiful fantasy. You were having so much fun entertaining yourself with thoughts of this marvelous image, and he came along and corrupted it. Poisoned the well you drank joy from.

But that's not quite true, Swerve thinks.

Blurr was more complicated than that. But exactly how, he'll never know. All he has are his memories, and those memories are cut short at the most interesting point.

Swerve knows this plot twist. The asshole character that no one loves at the last second turns out to not be what everyone thought, but it's too late.

Oh no, he's not an evil jerk, he's actually traumatized. Oh no, he wasn't bad, he was actually secretly helping everyone. You thought he was awful? Well now you're going to feel awful reading fanfics.

Serevus Spayne didn't actually betray the main character's dad, no no, he was in love with him! Bam. Drama.

Swerve isn't a big fan of this stuff. He likes his characters developed properly. But he can't deny the appeal of a character leaving behind a bunch of questions you thought you knew the answer to.

Uggh.

The doctor was wrong. These thoughts don't go away. These memories don't dull.

Swerve just boils in them, constantly getting stuck in his own head. Sometimes he puts English words into his speech and everyone looks at him strangely. Sometimes he reflexively says some inside joke and no one gets it and he's left standing there with an awkward smile. Because. Guys, you don't understand, if my coworkers were here they'd think it's hilarious. I promise, in my fantasy world, it's funny.

When he gets a job on one of the Autobot ships, he accepts it thinking it might be a good distraction from his thoughts.

When he happens to see Prowl with a tiny human on his shoulder in the corridor of that ship, he thinks he's lost his mind.

The whole thing. The whole load-bearing structure on which his picture of the world has been held suddenly gives a lurch. Living your life in a super realistic dream is wild, but meeting a character from your dream in real life??

Freaking cursed.

Jazz looks puzzled by his reaction, but all Swerve can think about are two things.

One, if Jazz is here, does that mean everything else was real, too???

Two - holy shit, Jazz is tiny.

It never occurred to him. But he didn't really know what size humans were. Well, sure, he could measure it in numbers. But he was among humans himself. And about the same size. He was generally even shorter than most of them.

If Jazz is so small, he can't imagine how tiny Tailgate would be. Or--

He can feel his spark freeze. In fact, he can almost hear the sound of a string breaking in his processor. Does that mean Blurr is real too? Real and just as tiny and currently dead? Because Swerve was there but was too convinced it was all just a dream to help?

He's going to get sick.

He needs to talk to Jazz right now.

____________

Swerve taps his fingers nervously on the countertop. Come on. You're good at talking. Talking is your greatest skill. All you have to do is tell someone else about your comatose hallucinations and hope they don't think you're crazy.

They're sitting at a table at the bar. More specifically Swerve and Prowl are sitting at the table, and Jazz is sitting right on the table. (God he's so small).

“So uh. I got injured a while back and...uh...well, it got worse, turned out important systems were affected and I kind of. I was in a coma. For a really long time.”

Jazz frowns

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He speaks in a mildly wonky Common, Swerve notes to himself. He waves his servo a little too cheerfully in response.

“'Ay it's no big deal really. I saw a whole other world while I was asleep and like. See, I thought it was just my fantasies, but it seemed very real and...”

Swerve mentally crosses his fingers.

“And it was about this planet called Earth and about people who were building their own inanimate huge robots to fight huge aliens and their boss wanted to launch Mechs into space, so he picked the best of the pilots named Jazz and sent him on this test mission and...”

Jazz looks at him with huge eyes before switching to English in surprise.

“Mech, what the hell?”

“...And we lost him...” finishes Swerve with a sad smile.

Before thinking for a bit, and adding.

“I'm going to show you a trick I can do.”

And then projects his holoform onto the table in front of him.

This. It's weird. Not in a way that would tilt it in the direction of unnatural. More like walking around in his comfy indoor pajamas right in the middle of the street. Being human is familiar to him, but being human amongst huge Cybertronians? Strange. And a little creepy.

Prowl looks confused.

Jazz looks absolutely frantic.

“SWERVE????”

Swerve doesn't even manage to respond, only to smile in relief before Jazz rakes him into his arms. In his holoform, Jazz feels right again. He's taller than Swerve and oh boy, he's alive and unharmed. To think everyone thought he was dead, staying up nights trying to find what was left of him, and he was on the other side of the universe the whole time?

Swerve chuckles into Jazz's shoulder. Then picks him up and spins him around a couple times just because he needs something to get his energy out. Man, it's nice to hug people. Warm and soft, eight out of ten.

Jazz pulls away but still stays standing very close. Swerve can literally see the happy stars in his eyes.

“Dude, I'm not complaining but what...how???? You just kinda..."

Swerve laughs and twitches his eyebrows playfully.

“I still speak English, you don't have to torture yourself with Common.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Jazz throws his hands up dramatically “you're my favorite person right now.”

There is a polite click of the vocalizer resetting above their heads.

“I” Prowl says “very glad you two are happy but I'd like some explanation”

Swerve presses his head into his shoulders guiltily. Prowl has the unique ability to always sound like you've done something wrong in front of him.

Although Jazz doesn't seem to feel the same way?

“Short version - I sleepwalked my holoform to another planet.”

He pauses dramatically.

“The long version is...”

Jazz raises his hand

“What's a holoform?”

Swerve sighs.

“It's a holographic avatar that I can project using a holomatter generator. Sort of like a remote controlled game character.”

Jazz whistles impressed. And then immediately turns back to Prowl

“Have you been able to do that all this time too?“

Prowl hums

“I can create an avatar, but it takes a lot of practice to make it at least believable. And to fully perceive the world through it takes even more. It's a whole new technology. What Swerve does is essentially an art form. Sophisticated and impressively detailed may I add.”

Swerve shrugs shyly. He's still using the holoform to stand on the table next to Jazz. Looking up to speak to Prowl isn't exactly comfortable, but Jazz definitely looks like he's been missing the human presence. Swerve isn't human, but he might as well be.

“Thank you. Yes! Uh. Anyway, it seems while I was in a coma my processor projected my avatar onto Earth and I...let's just say I lived there for a while.”

Jazz laughs

“Dude. So you're telling me you were basically sleepwalking the whole time?”

“ I was.”

Prowl frowns.

“But the range limit of the holomatter generator is only four hundred miles...”

“.... I had a lot of practice...”

Jazz claps his hands.

“You learned a whole other language! Got an ID!. You had a job!!!”

“I got carried away,” Swerve admits.

Jazz scratches the back of his head, still looking very amused

“How many degrees did you get? Haha wait no, I have a better question, did you pass your driver's license?”

“Two. And I failed my driver's exam.”

“Dude you are literally a car without a driver's license!” collapses Jazz on the table with laughter.

Swerve blows the hair out of his face

“Says you who retook the physical several times. You couldn't pass the "being human" exam.”

Jazz just wheezes incoherently in response. Prowl looks alarmed.

“Don't worry, that's him getting excited. So...where have I been...”

Swerve nervously shoves his hands into his pockets

“...Do either of you two know where Earth is?”

Prowl twitches his door wings

“No. Since Jazz was teleported we don't have much clues.”

Swerve grimaces. Scrap. Of course nothing's going to be that easy. He's also been, like,....teleported.

He stands there for a couple minutes and just feels fifteen different emotions rise up in his head at once. A crooked, unsteady smile creeps across his face.

He's thinking.

Oh hell, yeah! I knew it wasn't a dream!

Then he remembers the mess he left behind.

Oh, no, it wasn't a dream.

Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Swer... Swerve? Dude, are you okay?”

“Ah frag..” Swerve says weakly ”it wasn't a dream.”

Jazz looks...puzzled.

“Is that bad?”

Swerve remembers his friends. Remembers the Mecha program. Remembers fire and smoke and screams and rumbling and crackling flames. Ashes flying through the air and the smell of burnt wires. He remembers blood and debris and...

“It's...complicated.”

This wasn't just a stupid plot twist he'd dreamed up because he'd watched too many shows. This wasn't a hallucination or a disembodied fantasy that just happened to linger in his head. This was real. His friends exist out there somewhere. His work and his collections and his little apartment...

And Blurr. Was real. Or still is? Swerve doesn't know. Blurr wasn't a product of his imagination. He was real and what he did was real and Swerve left him there alone, bleeding and trapped in rubble and tiny and...

Hahahahah oh fUCK.

He doesn't like this plot. It's too much. Too much to handle, too complicated, too ambiguous.

It's also probably too late.

But he can't leave it like this, right? Blurr went into the damn burning building just because of the possibility that there might be someone alive in there.

And Swerve doesn't even have to go through the flames. He has to look. He has to try at least.

Jazz glares at him with a worried look on his face

“ That expression you have...”

Swerve puts the smile back on his face.

“I need to get to Earth.”

___________________

Swerve is not an idiot.

Or maybe more accurately an idiot, but with several degrees.

He's well aware that finding Earth in space with only a description of it is impossible. Which leaves him with two options.

Ask the Quintessons. Or look for it himself.

The first sounds like death. The second like coma. Swerve has exquisite enough taste to know which is better.

He just needs to do some preliminary reserch.....

Jazz, now back inside his Mech looks doubtful.

“You're not going to die suddenly and for no reason, are you?”

Swerve laughs.

“Pfffff what, no of course not, would I kill myself hah. No no, look I'll just put myself in stasis for a bit. Send myself to Earth. And try to figure out where it is from there. Get the coordinates. If I'm lucky, I can see what Space Bridge the local Quintessons use. All you'll have to do is wake me up after a while.”

“It's not harmful?”

Swerve makes an uncertain gesture with his hand...servo.

“If I have enough fuel. And an additional connection to an external generator.”

Jazz tilts his head

“ Why are you so eager to get to Earth? Don't get me wrong, I miss it too and want to go back, but.”

Swerve bites his knuckles.

“ I have some unfinished business?”

“Pshhhh you sound like a ghost.”

Swerve only laughs in response.

_______________

Concentration is tricky.

Swerve tries to think about Earth. And not to think about the fact that he doesn't know where it is. If he's already been there once, he might as well go there again yes? In theory? Perhaps?

Except for the possibility that his sleepwalking just takes him to random planets. That would be very inconvenient. It would be a whole new level of lost

Shit. No. Earth. Think Earth.

What's he even gonna do when he gets there? How far away is it? Swerve is very talented with his holomatter generator, but if it's really far away... maybe he should reset some settings.

He mentally starts going through his options. Does he need tangibility? Probably not. Come to think of it, it would only make him more vulnerable and take a lot of energy. Yeah, the tangibility has to go. What else? Touch, too. Sight and hearing should stay, that's not even a question, but colors and textures are not really necessary.

The amount of detail and picture quality can be reduced as well. His holoform will become colorless and grainy and will probably ripple with static, but he'll survive it.

After he finishes making changes to his holoform he thinks about his old stuff left in his house. Then about the posters. Then reminds himself that he needs to focus on the goal or he'll never find Blurr and...oh FUCK his phone! Where was his phone when he disappeared? Was it found?? There were so many personal things on that phone, he's hoping the phone was burned under the rubble. Either that or the arriving investigators will find his browser history and he'll go into another coma from pure embarrassment.

He blinks dazedly when he realizes he has loads of rocks in front of his eyes. Oh..Did he screw up? Did he end up on the wrong planet? Is it a cave or--

Then he notices the odd shape of the “rocks” and. Oh, no. It's not a cave. It's charred concrete debris.

This is the place where he was last.

He hastily looks around. Anxiety creeps up the back of his neck, makes him feel like something slippery and cold is crawling over his skin. There is nothing but ruins all around.

Blurr is not here. The place where his Mech was lying is empty.

Which means he was at least found and dragged out. Dead or alive.

Swerve's bites his knuckles. Okay.

All right.

He's got things to do.

_______________

He's trying to stay out of sight. Which isn't hard, considering he's just a hologram. At first, he just sneaks around in the quiet areas. Then proceeds to do a facepalm and start teleporting. Think, Swerve. Did you read all those comic books for nothing? Superheroes who couldn't really use their superpowers creatively always annoyed him. And he does, in fact, have a superpower. Gotta get creative, right?

He stops and looks at himself again. His holoform is going static and is a dull white color. He thinks for a bit, and then shrinks himself. Thinks some more, and makes himself almost transparent. There's no way he could pass as a normal human right now, so he'd better just do his best to avoid being seen by anyone.

He looks around thoughtfully. Hmm. Even if he's going to be absolutely tiny, he needs to make sure no one sees him, otherwise the whole base will think the Quintessons are now spying on them through holograms or something.

Breaking the rules feels...it's exciting.

All his ..human life here he hadn't thought about it, but if he threw away the rules he was used to about what people could or couldn't do...

He looks up in a sudden rush of sly genius. All people look under their feet when they walk, but how many look up? And how many of them notice the barely visible tiny holoform hiding just behind the blinding lamps?

The answer is probably none.

Swerve projects himself onto the ceiling and mentally pats himself on the shoulder for his impressive intellectual accomplishments. A creativity degree should definitely be a thing.

A degree in spying on the Quintessons' ships wouldn't hurt him either.

Fortunately sneaking onto their ship turns out not to be that difficult. Swerve makes himself absurdly tiny and hides in the darkest corners that no one would ever think to look into. Why hasn't anyone thought of using holoforms for spying before? Could he be the first to think of it? He doesn't know, but he mentally decides to patent the idea.

Finding the Space Bridge is surprisingly easy. The local Quintesson fleet is clearly used to being the dominant force in space. And that's generally logical. Even if humanity collects a mountain of money from somewhere to throw a dozen Mechs into space - there will be thousands of monsters waiting for them. In such a situation, you don't have to hide, the guards are enough.

Well done, well done, don't hide, Swerve thinks, copying the coordinates and address of the space bridge to himself. You have absolutely nothing to fear here, he thinks, so stay where you are and don't move. Please and thank you.

Once the coordinates are obtained, he... has some freedom to explore. And he uses it for probably the most boring-sounding thing in the world. He returns to his usual workplace.

It’s simple. As damning as the Mecha program was, Swerve loved his job in it. He loved his position in the assembly shop. And he missed his friends.

He quickly teleports through several rooms, continuing to hide close to the lamps. Tailgate is here. Alive and unharmed. Wheeljack is too, though his face has some scars added to it. It's great to see them again, even if he can't talk to them right now. No one will probably react well to a grainy unexplainable hologram. He's just glad to know they're okay and honestly, the last thing he needs is paranoid Onslaught installing extra signal jammers.

It takes time to find Blurr. Partly because Swerve is terrified of what he might find if he started looking. So he goes to check the death lists first, and only after flipping through and re-reading them three times does he finally exhale in relief.

Blurr's name isn't there.

So his smug, shiny ass must be around here somewhere.

He checks the hangar. Flips through the Mech launch logs and feels an uncomfortable knot begin to form in his chest. Blurr's Mech has never been repaired or launched even once since the incident. Its plating has been replaced with new, well polished, and put in a prominent place where anyone who wants to can take a picture of it. But all the internal systems are destroyed. This machine hasn't been used for anything other than being a beautiful exhibit.

That's...something's wrong.

He checks offices and schedules as well as eavesdropping on a few conversations and ends up secretly following Swindle, who is arguing loudly with someone on the phone. He says something about deals and how he doesn't need anyone meddling in his business. Then he talks about how he's got everything under control and the person on the phone is “a dumbass who's making drama out of nothing” and that “he doesn't need anyone's handouts". Then he sighs and says, “you know how celebs are. Dumb and dramatic. You can't take their words literally.”

Then drops the call and for a couple seconds looks like he's just had a large bill taken right out of his hand. Curses again, but in a quieter voice. Leafs through his contacts and stops at the one signed 'free ice'.

“Blurr? Where are you? Wha...ah, no wait. No, the advertising agency called. No, liste...Can you shut up for one second?Where are you?

Uh-huh....... Uh-huh.Okay.

Give me half an hour...okay, yeah.”

This is it, Swerve thinks.

He shrinks himself further and teleports under the collar of Swindle's coat.

He wants to take a look. Just. Just a peek. Make sure everything's all right. Then he can go about his original mission in peace. He watches Swindle get in his car and drive off somewhere. Swerve doesn't recognize this part of town. The houses here are much nicer than where he lived. The streets are cleaner.

He tucks himself further under the coat collar. He's not going to be a stalker or anything, but he's worried and he doesn't have time to wait for Blurr himself to show up for work. Just one little look and that's it.

Swindle's car stops outside a beautiful, shiny hospital. Swerve nervously tries to bite his knuckles, but remembers he's disabled touch in his holoform. Shit? Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi

Blurr looks like a mangled corpse.

Okay, not really. His left side that faces the door to the hospital room looks like a mangled corpse and that's the first thing that catches Swerve's eye when he's inside.

Blurr is pale and thin and his hands are covered in bandages. The left side of his face has been turned into an absolute ugly nightmare. A piece of his ear is missing. In the place of the left eye is a creepy empty hole.

Suddenly Swerve realizes why Blurr didn't show up for work. You can't even show him to his coworkers like that, not just to the public.

Blurr turns his head and the spell breaks. His lips stretch into a cocky smile.

“'Got bored without me Swindle?”

Swindle doesn't show the slightest emotion at the gruesome sight. He casually pulls a chair over to the hospital bed and sits down.

“Shockwave is trying to sneak a new project into the program. And he's slowly swaying investors to his side, using you as an excuse. Tells everyone you're a poor martyr he can save if only he's given the green light from above.”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“Not that he's wrong. The doctors say I need to pick a new career because with this...” he jerks his head to the left implying his damaged half, ” neither racing nor piloting is an option for me anymore. I'm out of your project.”

Then he stops talking for a few seconds and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“You wouldn't have come here in person just to say that. Why are you really here?”

Swindle adjusts his glasses

“Have I ever told you why I made the contract with you?”

“Because you like money” Blurr says without hesitation.

Swindle lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Fair point. But money wasn't my only priority.”

He pauses for a second. Gets up. Draws the curtains in the room. Checks to make sure no one is outside the door.

Goes back to his seat.

“You didn't see what the Mecha project was like before. Brutality and absolute disregard for human rights multiplied by a thousand. People were desperate and no one cared to maintain any decency.”

He raises his hand when Blurr rushes to say something.

“No no, listen to me. If you think things are bad now, you're right. But it used to be much. Much, much worse.”

Swindle sighs and adjusts his glasses again

“Vortex was taken as a boy. He wasn't even out of high school when they shoved him into the lab. Me and Onslaught were pulled right out of the college exams. The others were no better, although they were usually a little older. My point is that it was allowed. It's what the superiors could do and no one told them no.”

Blurr tilts his head and gets a little all turned around to see Swindle better with his right eye.

“But you... found a way to change that, didn't you?

Swindle rubs the bridge of his nose

“I have no power over my own superiors. But Onslaught and I have come up with a plan. Look. I'll put it in simple terms for you. Above me is my boss, and above him is another boss, and so on but at the very end of that chain are people from the government. The investors. So we figured out a way to cut through the chain of command and influence them directly. Make them worry about us. It's a kind of social shield. Onslaught is a genius.”

Blurr blinks.

“Why are you telling me all this.”

Swindle takes off his hat and just. Crumples it in his hands. The back of his head shows numerous scars and the glint of tiny metal implants barely visible behind his hair.

“You're that shield right now, Blurr. You can't leave.”

Blurr's eye widens

“Is that why you insisted on ‘befriending’ me with all those bullshitters?”

“I needed to make sure that in their minds we weren't just a military unit. To keep them thinking that we're as human as they are. So I gave Project Mecha a face.” He tugs on the hat again, “Your face.”

Blurr runs his fingers through his hair

“Shockwave can't do whatever he wants cause...because of me his efforts would risk going public and people wouldn't like it and it would ruin the reputation of our investors-and-they'd-cut-off-his-funding.”

Swindle puts his hat back on.

“Exactly.’ That's why he's being so persistent right now. He knows you're vulnerable and he wants to capitalize on the opportunity. Make you part of his new project and tell the world about it. Make publicity his weapon, too.”

The lamp above them flickers faintly. Blurr takes a breath. Long and tired and exhausted and. a bit doomed.

Swindle puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Please. Don't leave. At least not now. And don't let Shockwave get to you. That would open the way for him to get to the rest of the pilots you represent.”

They just. Sit in silence for a while. Blurr quickly taps a finger on his knee. A rapid tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Swindle moves his hand away and gets up from his chair.

“There's a press conference coming up. I need you to be there. I've told everyone who needs to know that the problem is exaggerated and you're fine but they need to see you.”

Blurr smiles sourly.

“My lawyer is going to charge you such a handsome sum for that stunt.”

Swindle laughs, but his cardboard advertising smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“We’ll see about that. Seriously though. I need you there.”

Blurr bites his lip.

“I..don’t know...”

Swerve...doesn't know what to think of that.

Blurr shows up for the press conference. Late, but he makes it. Just as Shockwave is presenting his new project in his amazingly well-pitched voice. Blurr swings the door open and waltzes lazily inside, skillfully pretending not to notice the many cameras and eyes instantly directed at him.

Swerve, whose memory is still fresh thinks for a second that no, no this can't be the same person. Past Blurr looked like a wreck. Past Blurr was tense and tired and hunched over. Present Blurr couldn't look more alive. His shoulders are squared proudly, there's that cheerful springiness and grace in his stride. He moves with ease and confidence. Smoothly.

The left side of his face is neatly covered with fresh white bandages. Carefully, without leaving the even the slightest gap through which his injury could be seen. His hands are hidden under a fancy jacket. He smiles wide and bright and squints playfully toward the table.

The very embodiment of nonchalance. The few pilots sitting in the audience roll their eyes.

Swindle breathes out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. Swerve, once again using Swindle's collar as a tactical cover, can't help but let out a silent triumphant laugh. Maybe slightly more nervous than he is supposed to be.

Blurr sends Swindle a sly, sharp smile and even knowing it wasn't meant for him, Swerve feels his cheeks heat up.

Ah, damn it.

Swerve breaks the rules. He tells himself that peeking is fraught with consequences when it comes to military organizations, but he can't stop himself from being curious. And from worry, too.

And now that he knows where to look, he sees things he'd rather not see.

Blurr ... is crumbling.

Swerve doesn't know all the details and consequences, but that incident did leave a mark.

But every time Swindle calls him and says “I need you at some place in two hours” he gets up and assembles himself into a human being. Like a goddamn puzzle. Tapes and covers the burned half of his face. Covers up the bruises and hides the stitches. Fixes his hair and sets off on shaky legs to pretend he's fine.

He smiles so bright and carefree, laughs so sweet and beautiful that no one would ever think that even standing up sometimes hurts.

And continues to act like a jerk of course.

The only difference is that this time Swerve mentally gives him the presumption of innocence before he starts judging.

Blurr does a lot of things that seem rude. He also does a lot of things that are actually rude and figuring them out without resorting to alien superpowers would be nearly impossible.

When the pilots see Blurr sitting right on the table while negotiating with investors, they roll their eyes and make comments about his terrible manners. Or when he stops showing up for even the most basic, rudimentary training.

Or when he develops that stupid habit of leaning his elbows on people standing next to him.

It's the model behavior of a rich, spoiled brat.

It's also an inconspicuous way to stay upright.

Employees say “that dumbass has never heard of personal space.”

Investors say, “I think he likes me.”

Blurr leans on Swindle's shoulder and through a charming smile says “Don't move or I'm gonna fall.”

Swindle also keeping up the smile discreetly holds him back, pretending it's a friendly half hug.

Swerve feels like yelling at both of them, but he's not sure what for exactly. For one thing, Blurr in his condition is very VERY VERY contraindicated to even get out of bed, let alone participate in social activities.

On the other hand, without Blurr, everything is going down the pit.

Without Blurr, all the government sees are dry reports and spreadsheets. Without him, all the high command has is numbers and a sense of impunity. Swerve is sickened by how easily people tend to forget that numbers represent other people.

Most pilots are able to draw a parallel between deteriorating working conditions and Blurr's sudden fondness for staying home instead of working. But they think the rich jerk got scared and ran away. Considering the way Blurr has always behaved at work - Swerve can't even judge them too much for it. They assume Shockwave getting more freedom is the cause of Blurr's absence, not the result.

Blurr's influence only becomes noticeable when it slowly starts to fade away. It's like switching from expensive tea to a cheaper one. The awful flavor only becomes noticeable in contrast.

Blurr doesn't lead the development of new technologies or go out to fight in the field. He doesn't make plans and reports, he doesn't participate in drills, he doesn't cover anyone's back in battle.

But he's the one who puts his hand on the government's shoulders when they're about to sign the next piece of paper. He's the one they have to look in the eye before they have a pen in their hands and a document authorizing Shockwave to stick more needles in people's brains.

It makes a difference. Small one. But still.

It turns a disembodied imaginary “combat units” into a tangible person.

From “do you want to accelerate the combat training of new soldiers” to “are you willing to tell the living, breathing guy standing in front of you that shoving poison under his skin is an idea you approve of.”

More importantly (And Swerve actually admires Swindle for this) Will you be able to explain anything to your families later on, when this same guy is on TV all over the country saying that's what you did to him?

There have been two fronts here all this time, Swerve realizes.

While the pilots were protecting people from monsters wearing teeth and armor, Blurr was protecting the pilots themselves from monsters wearing ties and lab coats.

After another conference, Shockwave stops Blurr in the hallway.

“Good show.”

Blurr laughs. Soundly and proudly.

“Thanks darling~ Sorry I interrupted you. Your speech sounded like something important, but I don't really know much about nerd stuff.”

Swerve, hiding on the ceiling again, snorts.

Shockwave doesn't move. Doesn't give any indication at all if he's offended or upset or whatever.

“It must have been hard getting here with your injuries.”

Blurr shrugs and lazily turns his head around distracted.

“It's just a few bruises here and there. Not the end of the world.”

Shockwave nods slowly. His voice and posture and all, Swerve thinks, looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course it isn't. But hardly good for your career.”

Blurr freezes.

No, Swerve thinks. Shit. No, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't

“Your brilliant achievements have always been a source of admiration to me” continues Shockwave “it would be a pity to lose them.”

Blurr makes an indifferent face and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Like I said. Not the end of the world.”

Swerve imagines choking Shockwave. Dropping a lamp on his head. Maybe jumping on top of him himself. Shut up, he thinks. Shut up, shut up, stop fucking talking.

Shockwave with a nice, slow gesture pulls out a notebook from somewhere and flips a couple pages.

“Multiple burns, cracked ribs, poisoning from carbon monoxide and combustion products of toxic chemicals...”

Blurr visibly shivers and looks away.

“...loss of vision on one side...” Shockwave continues reading, ”and partial hearing loss. Finally, the impact of neural link malfunctions. And this, if I'm not mistaken, is on top of the already existing memory problems?”

Shockwave takes a step closer. Not fast enough to make it look threatening, but enough to hover.

“It may not be the end of the world, but it is the end of you.”

He writes a set of numbers on the same page, tears it off, and hands it to Blurr.

“You are broken. I can fix you.”

Blurr frowns, but takes the piece of paper.

“That fixing would involve giving you consent to mess around with my head, wouldn't it? It's brave of you to think I'd go for that.”

Shockwave tucks the notepad into his pocket.

“I can assure you, neither I nor anyone else is interested in your brain. I just want to give you back what you're truly valued for.”

Blurr flinches.

“I don't need your help.”

“ If you say so,” Shockwave agrees easily. Nods, slowly and smoothly. Then starts to walk away “But you do need your fame.”

...

“By the way, you might want to wipe the blood off.”

Blurr waits until Shockwave's back disappears around the corner, then quickly pulls a tissue from his pocket and brings it up to his nose.

____________________________

Swerve wakes up looking up at the ceiling of his room. The high, metal ceiling, of a metal room on a metal spaceship.

Holy shit...

Jazz pokes him gently on the forearm

“Are you alive? You've been gone for like quite a while...Did it work?”

“Hey Jazz” frowns Swerve “what do you know about Blurr?”

Jazz laughs

“What are you fanboying over him again? Still??? Dude's smug and arrogant. Good boss though. I was hired to perform at his parties before I became a pilot.”

Swerve sits up and rubs the back of his head.

“Ah...”

“So it worked?”

“Wha...ah! Yes! Yes, it worked! I managed to get the number and codes from the space bridge the Quints used on you. We just need to find another space bridge and we'll have a pretty much direct route to Earth...well. Or rather, to the Quint ship that's located near Earth. You get the idea.”

Jazz rubs his hands together happily.

“I'll take it.”

Swerve jumps to the floor and heads to grab an energon cube. Man, these holoform exercises are burning energy like crazy.

He stares at his metal hands like an idiot for a couple minutes. Just...Contemplates how non-human they are.

He has eight fingers again instead of the human ten. Huh.

Prowl downloads the information he's gotten and immediately runs off to plan a route to the nearest working space bridge and for a while Swerve is just.

Left to himself.

He tries not to think about Blurr. What would he even say to him? Hey, look, I'm sorry I accidentally set you up, see, I'm actually an alien who was sleepwalking and thought you were fictional, surely this won't affect our non-existent strictly professional working relationship? Nah, screw that. If he's going to sound crazy, he needs to at least come up with a good presentation for his insanity.

....

Is it weird to think humans are beautiful if you're not human? If you're kind of human, but only in your soul and only half human?

He looks at Jazz and Prowl.

“You two get along really well.”

Jazz chuckles, sitting on Prowl's shoulder.

“Right now, yes. But we got on each other's nerves quite a bit when we first met.”

Swerve looks up at Jazz's chattering legs from his height and thinks. This is working somehow.

On the other hand, Jazz is the exception rather than the rule. He's friendly with everyone, he's easy to get along with, he's the soul of any company and most importantly, he was a little too much into robots before he discovered they could be alive. If anyone could find common ground with the Cybertronians, it would definitely be Jazz.

_____________________

”Are you a ghost?”

Swerve shrieks in fear and gets covered in static. He hadn't planned on talking. He hadn't planned on being noticed at all. Blurr was supposed to be asleep! And Swerve just wanted to close the curtains and leave, because there's some noisy party going on outside and bright illuminations are very bad for a patient already suffering from neural connection withdrawal.

He freezes in place like that dude from Jurassic Park. Like if he's still enough, he won't be noticed. Oh, or was that from another movie?

“I'm just uh” he awkwardly reaches up and closes the curtains “Lights. Bad for...you...now.”

Blurr chuckles. It sounds suspiciously joyful. His whole posture and facial expression. He looks very relaxed for someone who had a ghost materialize into the room out of thin air.

Swerve traces the line of the IV with his gaze. Oops, that looks like painkillers.

“Yes I am. Uh. A ghost watching the curtains. And now the curtains are fine, so I guess I'd better go?”

Blurr squints amusedly.

“You can walk through walls?”

“Uh, I can teleport into the next room?”

He backs up his words by making himself disappear and reappear in another corner of the room.

“Cool!” says Blurr cheerfully.

Swerve is involuntarily infected by his mood and makes a couple dramatic bows as if he were some kind of magician.

“ Show me more?”

“Hehehe okay eh” Swerve spreads his arms like he's presenting something and then makes himself the size of a soda bottle and teleports to the edge of Blurr's bed “Ta daaaa~”

“Wooooo look at you, you're like an action figure~”

Blurr immediately makes an attempt to touch him, but fails to reach and drops his hand back on the blanket.

Swerve chuckles and steps closer. It's funny to see the usually incredibly agile Blurr struggling with something so simple and ridiculous.

“They really drugged you huh?”

“It's not the drugs” snorts Blurr ”...it's my eye.”

He raises his hand once more and hesitantly pulls it towards Swerve until it bumps into his hair

“... depths Per…percen.. ah, shit. I can't tell how far away things are.”

Swerve just. Lets Blurr fidget at himself, while starting to feel really bad at the same time.

"If you can't tell how far things are, how are you going to drive?

Race???”

He must have a plan right? Something? Let’s-prove-Shockwave-wrong tactic???

Blurr drops his hands back on the blanket

“I won't.”

He freezes when the all too close fireworks rumble outside the window. Then points to his head.

“With this. I can't drive, I can barely walk at all, and I look like horror movie material. Pathetic heeh.”

Swerve sits down quietly cross-legged on the blanket.

“Well...at least you're alive....”

Blurr shakes his head.

“If I had died, it would have been epic. You know? Dharm...dramatic! It would be big news and everyone would be talking about what a hero I was or...or something...”

“...”

“Swindle would be so angry, but he'd figure out a way to make money out of it. He'd make a commercial about how people should be heroes. I'd be remn..remembered for being cool and brave and stuff.”

Fireworks can be heard from the street again. Swerve notices that there is a thin slit between the closed curtains through which a slim, flickering strip of multicolored light streams into the room.

Blurr frowns and leans back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“I've turned into a boring wreck. My records will be beaten, my career forgotten , and all the guys from work will remember me as a brat. In a--in a--in a way, it's worse than death. Shockwave's right.”

Swerve isn't sure what exactly would be an acceptable gesture of comfort, so he kind of just. Places his hand on the blanket covering Blurr's lap.

“Hey, don't say that. I think what you're doing is great.”

“Liar” smiles Blurr crookedly ”You hated me. I saw your posters collection.”

Oh shit. The ones he ripped off the walls and destroyed in a fit of fan frustration? He didn't even hide them, just shoved them in the back corner. Aw, man...

Swerve folds his arms awkwardly across his chest.

“I can be mad at you and think you're cool at the same time. I'm a multitasker.”

“You're a very specific kind of ghost.” says Blurr. Then, apparently inspired by the painkillers, decides to drop the conversational equivalent of an atomic bomb on Swerve's head “You died because of me?”

Swerve stiffens.

“I...Wwhat?”

“You know.” he makes a gesture with his hand that's ..unclear what it's supposed to mean. “You were working there with everyone else, and then there was that fire and I was sure I saw you down there under the rubble.”

He's silent for a couple seconds before he hesitantly continues

“And then no one could find you so most assumed you either burned or ran away. And now you're here with all your weird ghost stuff, so you must be dead.”

Swerve has.No idea what to think about it. And what to say? He's been so busy blaming himself for Blurr getting hurt that it hasn't occurred to him to think about what it looks like from Blurr's own perspective.

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head’s all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Swerve wants to run around and bang his head against the wall.

Instead, he gets up from the hospital bed. Carefully.

“You're high. I'm not going to explain things to you while you're high, you won't understand or remember them. Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night.”

“You'll tell me later?”

Swerve hums quietly and pulls the curtains all the way closed.

“If future, sober Blurr would want my company.”

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

Jazz looks at him. Very intensely.

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery person you keep coming back to Earth for?”

Swerve snorts.

“What makes you think it's anyone in particular?”

“You're right, you're right~” raises his hands in surrender Jazz “So are you going to tell your friend the whole thing?”

Swerve crosses his ..metal arms over his metal chest.

“Is it that big of a deal? He thinks I'm a ghost or something.”

Being a ghost...somehow better, he thinks. If you're a ghost, it kind of automatically implies you're human. Or was a human.

“Sooner or later, he'll put the facts together~” says Jazz in a chant.

Swerve laughs.

“That's unlikely. He's got a pretty bad memory.”

_______________

His plans to stay out of anyone's sight combust with a dramatic pop the next time he projects himself to Earth. He doesn't plan to interfere, he doesn't even plan to linger. He just wants to see what's going on.

He actually just quietly sneaks into the hospital to make sure nothing's happened to Blurr since last time, but when he finally finds him then...oh shit, is that Pharma in the same room with him??? This can't be good.

They don't speak, but Pharma has clearly locked his eyes on Blurr and starts making his way towards him with the relentlessness of a industrial metal press.

Swerve does some rough math in his head. If he briefly gives his holoform back its detail and voice, will that be enough to fry his processor? He's not sure.

Pharma gives a believable impression of a shark getting close. The staff, as if sensing something untoward is about to happen, leaves the room in a hurry.

Blurr looks indifferent, but Swerve's attention is drawn to the way he squints tensely. Man, the lamps are too bright in here.

Pharma smiles sweetly and reaches out for a handshake

“Mind some company?”

Swerve's mental processes fly out the window. Oh no no. Not Pharma. Not in his fucking fanfic. He quickly changes his work clothes into a slightly more business-like looking shirt. Thinks for just a moment and adds a cap to his head to blend in more strongly with the attendants and hide his face to an extent. And then projects himself around the nearest unoccupied corner and runs out of behind it looking as anxious as he feels.

“Blurr!!! Sir, there you are!!! I've been looking everywhere for you!”

Pharma wants to say something, but Swerve doesn't even let him start. He stands in front of Blurr separating him and Farma expressively waves his hands trying to keep his head down.

“The guys you were talking about didn't bring the new hydraulics! It's a disaster, we'll have to use the one on the old models!”

Blurr, to his surprise, backs up his act almost instantly

“Really? But I thought there was nothing to take from the old models?”

“That's exactly the point! I got the paperwork this morning and...oh those assholes are going to screw it up if you don't step in as soon as possible!”

Pharma tilts his head

“Can it wait? We were actually talking here!”

Oh no, thinks Swerve I'll show you who's talking.

“Sir, no offense but this is a matter of extreme urgency. Are you implying that the safety of your patients is not important?”

“What do you mea...”

“Old faulty hydraulics, that's what you want?” raises an eyebrow in horror Blurr.

“No I'm just...”

“I had a better opinion of you, to be honest.”

“I...” opens his mouth Pharma “...WHAT...?”

Swerve shakes his head.

“And I thought his profession was to help people, can you imagine?”

“Wh..”

Blurr rolls his eye.

“Any idiot can get an important position these days.”

“Wait..”

“Tell me about it. Especially doctors.”

Pharma looks like he's about to start pulling the hair out of his head.

“Can at least one of you shut up??”

Swerve adjusts his cap in a businesslike manner

“Sir, I understand you're a bit detached from reality spending so much time in your department, but you need to take better care of your reputation.”

He raises his eyebrows knowingly

“Wouldn't want the rumors about you to turn out to be true. You know what I mean?”

Pharma doesn't even answer anymore. Pharma just looks like a discarded fish.

“…..Wha....there's rumors?”

“Of course” shrugs Swerve ”Ask Norman, he usually knows everything about everyone. And about your interesting tricks with safety, too.”

He leans in conspiratorially, effectively pulling all of Farma's attention to himself

“So if I were you, I'd stay out of any more things you don't understand.”

Pharma wants to say something. Swerve can tell by the look in his eyes. Pharma tries to come up with a witty and context-appropriate response, but this whole conversation has no more context than a typical episode of Teletubbies.

“Where does this Norman guy work?” finally finds the ground beneath his feet Pharma

Swerve shrugs.

“Block C, if he hasn't been transferred yet. He's already been fined several times for spreading harmful information you know? The guy can't keep a secret.”

Pharma throws his hands up angrily and storms away. Probably looking for context. Or revenge.

A quiet cough sounds behind Swerve's back.

“So. Should I be worried about Norman's health?”

Swerve feels the hair on the back of his neck shiver and slowly turns to face Blurr while still looking somewhere on the floor.

“Uh...only if you're concerned about the fate of fictional characters. I made up Norman's wife, she'll be upset if he gets fired for gossiping.”

Blurr chuckles. Then goes silent. Then, after a couple seconds, starts laughing again. That's a good look for him, Swerve thinks. It's not like Blurr's usual velvet-smooth laugh that he uses at social events. It's more like a quick, jerky giggle, and in Swerve's subjective opinion, it's pretty damn cute. He can't help but grin.

Blurr snorts one last time, cutting off the laughter.

Then he reaches out his hand to him.

Swerve reaches back, expecting a handshake, but Blurr ignores his hand and instead goes for his cap and lifts it by the brim.

Swerve, not expecting this, freezes with his hand outstretched.

Blurr freezes as well, still holding the cap in his hand and looking...like he's rethinking his life. A little.

Ugh, and how to explain it all to him....

“Uh...you...uh...probably don't remember me. I...it's...”

Blurr shifts his gaze from Swerve to the cap in his hand. Then back to Swerve.

“You're real???”

Swerve awkwardly waves his hands in front of him

“Ah not.., not really. Do you know why Pharma was looking for you in the first place? He doesn't work with patients anymore, he's been reassigned to the research department, right?”

Blurr shrugs.

“Last time I saw him, he said I might have implant rejection in the third ..uh..what? stage? or something? I think he's trying to get me in for a checkup.”

Swerve twitches.

“Third??? How are you still standing???”

He then quickly reaches up with both hands to Blurr's head and tilts it so he can see his face better. Using one thumb, he pulls his lower eyelid slightly and mentally catalogs. Temperature normal, pupil normal, eyes are steady, no darkening or trace of blood on the eyelid. Implants? He puts both palms up and gently feels the places behind Blurr's ears. No signs of rejection or malfunction.

“No no no” sighs Swerve ”You're fine, it's only stage two. I mean, second sucks too, migraines and all, but you just need to rest and no bright lights and...” he finally notices his hands are still on Blurr's head and pulls them back as fast as if he's been burned ”I MEAN I'm uh...sorry, I didn't mean to, I...”

Blurr laughs quietly.

“I'm glad you're back.”

_____________________

He wakes up in his quarters and can feel his face burning.

When he goes out to get the energon, Jazz throws him a look.

“Is something wrong? You're all kinda...shaky.”

“Hhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuu” imitates signs of life Swerve “Say, doesn't it bother you that Prowl isn't human?”

Jazz smiles

“ Oh, I went crazy when I found out. But we figured it out.”

“Like...on a scale from ‘bad grade in school’ to ‘an asteroid is coming to Earth’ how crazy was it?”

“Worried about what your human friends will think?”

Swerve swings back and forth on his heels

“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Whatnooooo, no of course not. I'd be worried if I planned on telling them at all.”

Jazz frowns

“No offense, but keeping secrets isn't your strong suit.”

“Haha” Swerve waves his servo “ Watch me.”

#OKAY I HAD TO OPEN SECOND SCREEN JUST FOR COMMENTS AAHDGHAS BECAUSE I CAN FEEL ME EXPLODING RIGHT AFTER THE RAIN PART #SWERVE KNOWING ENGLISH FLUENTLY. SWERVE KNOWS HOW TO SPEAK HUMAN AHAHA ULTIMATE TRANSLATOR #It will pass. “But does he want it to?”. Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass. “HELL YEAH”#...Oh okay... haha... here we go... no one minding Swerve... even less than Tailgate I guess ahah... damn....#...Sadly I'm pretty sure human friends would notice....#“In terms of writing scripts obviously” Oh Swerve #“He's thinking about Blurr. A lot” *AGGRESSIVELY SLAPS THE TABLE* THE FACT THAT IN THIS VERSION HIM THINKING OF BLURR DOESN'T LOOK STRANGE #IT LOOKS OKAY. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NOT OKAY FOR HIM NOT TO THINK. I AM HERE FOR IT.#PFFFHT getting into fantasy world to find an object to fangirl over and find a work to get stuff about this object. Dream XDDD #Holy shit Jazz is tiny - says mini bot now dear imagine your fav character being equal to toy tadaaa #...I might have better use comments section. YES SWERVE. GOT IT #I LOVE WHEN CHARACTERS SWITCH TO LANGUAGE WHEN SOMETHING HAPPENS. HERE WE GO JAZZ #fav #FAV #I'M DEAD #I LOVE IT #I love it #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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ziminy · 2 days ago

Text

Nightshift rewritten pt1

Having Gojo and Geto as roommates was a problem

Tags: smut, mdni, college au, roommates (obviously), f!reader, rich kid Gojo, the reader is a bit shy and introverted, jealousy, Gojo and Geto are playboys, mästurbation, getting caught, humping, kinda mean Geto (cuz I like him like that *bite lip*), a little bit of misunderstanding but they fuck at the end because of it so we're good, fïngering, thighs fuckïng, the reader have boobs, praises, teasïng, Gojo having a (not so) little crush on you,

Author's note: Personally, I believe that those two can't pull even if their lifes depends on it, 100% zero play. But I like to be delusional so I'mma just close my eyes.

Pt2 Pt3 masterlist

roommates masterlist

You knew that living in a dorm had more disadvantage than benefits, but you didn't think that you'll fight with your roommate the first day you moved in. You lived in a shitty place filled with shitty people, so you couldn't understand why she was trying to cause problems instead of trying to maintain the peace.

You were both adults, you should have think rationally and at least ignore each other. But no, she decided to bring guys over, fucking them in there, sometimes even when you were in the room asleep. One time waking up to her getting fucked in her bed since she decided to be so loud for the whole floor to hear.

She would throw her trash into your side of the room just to not clean, and start arguments left and right because it was fun for her.

What made you snap was when she started stealing your stuff. It started with small stuff like a few pencils here and there, or supplies that you payed money for it. Until she started stealing your clothes and wearing them, showing them off like you didn't know who the right owner was.

You had enough of her, so, you packed your stuff one time when she wasn't there and moved them into the back of your car, spending the next few days at a friend. One more day in that dorm and you'll sure commit murder.

You were embarrassed of your situation, can you believe your really ended up like this? Not having a place to call home and wandering around looking for a place to stay, even your friends were helping you and it made you feel more guilty.

Couldn't you had seen this problem before it happened? You were so excited at first, still remembering the way your heart was beating while sitting in front of the dorm, admiring the building and day dreaming about how wonderful your life would be. And now your hitting your head against every single wall you see, cursing yourself out for being such a fool.

"I know a guy that can help." one of your friends said, trying to reassure you. "We'll figure it out, don't worry." if you weren't surrounded by good people you would have quit and go home. However, you didn't expect to meet that guy the same day. He appeared a few minutes later like he knew he was needed. "Y/N, this is Satoru, the guy I told you about."

"Hi." you kept your words very minimal, trying to study his appearance and figure out what kind of person he was before you decided to accept his help or not. But can you blame yourself when your trust have been broken?

He was tall and well build, broad shoulders and a cocky smile on his face. His white hair was matching his shirt, and it was making him shine under the sun light, attracting all the attention to him. Round glasses on his face, a big designer logo could be seen on the sides of it. He didn't said a word, tilting his head to the right and looking down at you.

You looked the total opposite of him. While he looked like he was bathing in the blood of virgins maidens to remain forever young, you looked tired, like you haven't been able to sleep in the past few days at all. You hair all over the place, not wanting to cooperate with you today and the more he looked at you the more defects he can find. However, you catch his attention.

Even if you looked like a lost puppy left out in the rain, you looked so cute. It only made him feel like he could fix you, shower you with affection and get you at your best. Or, he could give you a few issues that you'd never be able to recover from. Or even worse, you end up fixing him, make him realize how much of an idiot he is and make him to finally settled down.

"Have you found anything yet?" your friend asked him, seeing how both of you looked at each other without saying a single sentence.

"Find what?" he couldn't take his eyes off you, mouth half open as he's still thinking about the possibilities.

"A place for Y/N?" if he's being honest, he totally forgot.

"You can stay at my place." he said, still being affected by your gaze. All that he can remember is the color of your eyes and your lips.

"I can?" you asked, not sure that you heard him right. Will your problems end up this quickly or was he fucking with you?

"Yeah." he said without even thinking.

"Let me see the place first and I'll give you an answer after." now he was finally coming back to his senses.

What have he done? Like, seriously, what did he just say? He can't believe himself, letting himself being swiped off his feet by some girl he just met for the first time.

And now he couldn't help but feel anxious, trying to remember in what state did he left the house, or what if you don't like it.

But he took you there, showing you his not so humble abode and presenting you every single room in the house. Talking about the lore and stuff that happened in there. A few parties here and there, how he ended up buying a new couch or how he got his TV broken. You know, just normal stuff.

"Then.. When can I move in?" you asked when he walked you out, expecting you to say that you'll think about it, or how you're thinking of another place. Anything but the words you just said.

"Whenever you want." he said, still not believing how smooth everything was going.

"I already have all my stuff ready, I can bring them here any time you're free." even better.

"How about now?" he said, wanting to feel your presence for a little longer.

"Sure." and by the end of the day you're already moved in, now unpacking everything in your room.

You were finally at peace. You had a place to stay, your own room and the guy you're living with is a busy person, so he won't even be there most of the time.

That night you finally managed to get a good night sleep. Placing your head on the pillow and shifting into the dream world instantly, dreaming about fluffy clouds and jumping from one to another, even biting some of them to see how they taste.

Everything was so peaceful, enjoying your time, walking around with cute stuffed animals by your side and laughing at your hearts desire.

It didn't lasted long because you heard a loud thunder, making you turn around to see someone far away, looking in your direction, waiting for your next move.

"Don't go, don't go." the squeaky animals said, trying to stop you from going in that person's direction. But you didn't listen, you kept walking forward, getting closer and closer to the mysterious figure.

You didn't even payed attention to the stranger, being more curious of why that place was different from the rest, why it's was so off settling. You looked back for a moment, still seeing the cute stuffed animals calling you back, but once again, you ignored them and turned your head away, continuing waking forward, now finally trying to see who that mysterious figure was. But to your surprise, the whole place became dark. The white clouds now black, the comfortable atmosphere now being suffocating, and the individual walking forward, getting closer to you.

You took a step back, trying to breath, but the closer he got, the more intoxicating the air became. "You're trapped now." a masculine voice could be heard from the person in front of you, leaning down to whisper those words in a mean manner right in your ear.

You gasped for air, finally waking up from whatever that dream was supposed to mean.

You were sweating, clothes sticking to your body and your head was hurting. The whole room was spinning and you couldn't help but think about what just happened.

It must be from the stress, all that negative energy building up, making you feel vulnerable. And now that you finally had time to rest, all that anxiety finally caught up with you. Yes, that must be.

You didn't even question the guy outside your room, waiting for you to get out and make a move.

"What's with all those boxes?" a masculine voice could be heard from outside your room, but it didn't belonged to the white haired man. After all, how could you forget his voice? It was haunting you even hours after you met him.

"About that." now, you could recognize that voice, there was no way it didn't belonged to Gojo.

"You what?" the other person said out loud, making you open your eyes. It was dark outside, who was making so much noises late at night?

You turned around in bed, looking for your phone and turning it on. It was 3 in the morning, tomorrow was a work day and no matter how much you think about it, there shouldn't be a commotion happening. Especially at this time.

Should you go and see what's going on? But it didn't sounded like you needed to get involved. In fact, your presence wasn't even required from the way the other guy was insulting Gojo. It was none of your business, whatever he did, he did it. You're not a witness since you only got here today, you don't know anything about that guy besides his name and the fact that he owns this place.

You'll see what happened tomorrow, it can't be that bad. And even if it was, it was none of your business.

So, the next day you got out your room. For once you managed to wake up early on your own accord, and you decided to see what happened last night.

You doubted that he would be there, especially this early. But the white haired man was in the kitchen, sipping something from his cup with another guy sitting a few chairs away from him.

"M-" you open your mouth, but you couldn't say a word when both of them turned to look at you. You cleared your throat, embarrassed at the way your voice cracked. "Good morning." you bite your lip, lowering your gaze and cursing yourself internally for making the moment awkward.

"Did you sleep well?" Gojo was all a smile, looking at your bed hair, happy to see you in such way.

The one next to him didn't looked happy tho, and if the way he cleared his throat to catch everyone's attention wasn't enough, then he doesn't know what more he needed to do.

"Ah, right. I forgot about you." Gojo laughed, but he was welcomed with his friend looking even angrier than before. "So, like, I don't know if I told you before but I share this place with my friend."

"You didn't mention this before." you said, making the dark haired man to raise an eyebrow, looking at you for a moment and then looking back at the one sitting at the table.

"Well, I said it now." the white haired man tried to excuse his behavior.

"Did he scammed you too?" the long haired man asked, shaking his head in disappointment. "How much did he ask for rent?"

"Not a lot." he told you to pay less than 50 bucks, per year. You were about to run from there when he said that, but then he explained to you how he doesn't need any money and how he's doing this to help you. Which was even more suspicious. "He told me that I can stay here for free." you said, remembering about how he didn't even wanted to accept money at first until you said you'll leave.

"Oh, really?" the dark haired man looked at his friend, still as unhappy as before.

"You're not even paying rent so why are you complaining?" Gojo rolled his eyes, annoyed at how Geto was acting.

"Are you asking me for money?" the way the man said that sounding threatening, like he ready to fight for real.

"Are you going to pay me?" they both stared at each other, questioning each other like they didn't already knew the answer. "Then why do you keep arguing about this?"

"It would have been nice to know before hand that someone is moving in."

"I'm sorry about it." you said, playing with the hem of your shirt. "He showed me the place yesterday, I already had everything packed and he said that I can just move in." the dark haired man just sighed.

"Well, whatever. It's already done." you knew it was crazy too, but you were desperate. But at least now you got to meet your other roommate.

This sounded so bizarre, it was too convenient for it to be a coincidence. Meeting some gorgeous guy, moving in with him the same day and then meeting another guy who's just as good looking as the other. And besides that, Gojo was filthy rich too, which makes this situation even more unreal.

Was this one of those situations of how I met your mother? Or was this some sort of prank and you were going to appear on tv for the whole world to see how stupid you are?

You'd believe it if at the end of this someone appears out of nowhere talking about how this was a big elaborate scheme to take revenge on you. Because there was no way this just happened out of nowhere.

Well, anyway. Now that you know who your roommates are, it was better to stay out their way. Mostly to not embarrass yourself in front of them. One wrong move and you'll throw yourself out the window, it was better to not test the waters at all to save some face and dignity.

And like this, a week passed. The house was as quiet as ever, your presence wasn't even felt and it's like both of them forgot you even existed if it wasn't for the shoes at the door.

It was Friday night, 11 something, almost midnight when you sneaked out your room, making your way to the kitchen. You were hungry, and if you didn't eat anything in that moment you feel like you'll pass out.

All the lights inside the house were turned off, it didn't feel like you were living with anyone. But you understood their schedule at this point. They were always out, only coming back home to sleep for a few hours and then disappear as soon as they wake up.

So, you didn't expect someone to walk in 10 minutes after you sat down at the long dining table. You were enjoying some leftovers and what else you found in the fridge, watching some funny video on your phone and giggling at it.

You almost choked when you saw Suguru walking in.

"It's you." he said, not even looking surprised to see you. But you on the other hand was dying, trying to swallow the food so you could run from there. "I haven't seen you these days." he walked to the fridge, opening it, then turned around to look at the table you were sitting at. "That was mine." you looked terrified, how comes you didn't thought about this before? "It's alright, don't worry. Satoru takes my food all the time." he said and walked towards you, sitting down next to you and taking something from the table to eat.

His friend whined the whole week about not being able to see you. He haves no idea what classes you were taking or at what hours, and now Satoru couldn't even talk to you in his own home.

Geto didn't understand what he saw in you. You were the total opposite of the women he hangs with. He knew his friend inside out, how could he not especially when they have the same type.

You didn't showed off, you didn't wear revealing clothes that made your body pop out. No, you were comfortable, wearing baggy clothes, not even bothering to doll yourself up for them. You weren't faking your personality and you weren't afraid of showing how you felt. You weren't trying to please them in any way, heck, you didn't even looked in their direction.

"You know, I wanted to talk to you about something." he said, seeing how you were trying to escape from there.

"Hm?" you tilted your head, deciding to stay for a little longer to hear him out.

"Me and Satoru shares our chores here. We don't do them everyday as you can see, but we do them once or twice a week." what a dull excuse. "Let me know what you wanna do next time." he doesn't believe shit he's saying.

"I see.." you didn't believe him either, did you? "I didn't know."

"Give me your number. I'll make a group chat so it would be easier for us to talk." Gojo better be grateful for all the work he's putting in.

"Alright." you gave him your number without thinking much about it.

"This is my number, and that's Satoru's. You can just save mine, forget about him." the dark haired man looked at you with the side of his eye, pointing at the phone numbers from the group chat he just added you in. He was testing you, to see what you'll say or do. "Just joking." he said when he saw you weren't reacting. "He'll be sad if you don't add him too."

"I don't think he will." you said, saving their numbers in your phone. Ah, his poor friend, you didn't even knew how you got him acting up in hope to catch your attention.

"Want to see how he'll react about it?" you shook your head. Right, you were a pacifist after all, what did he even expected. "Anyway, are you going anywhere this weekend?" you shook your head again, not having any plans and wanting to rest more. "I'm going to a party tomorrow. Why don't you come with me?" you looked displeased at his words, he noticed the way your nose scrunch.

"I don't like parties." of course you don't. He already knew the answer, but he was hoping he could get under your skin, play with you for a moment just to see his friend's reaction.

"Don't you get bored inside all day?" he would. He feel like he's suffocating staying in the same place for too long.

"Not really. I'm more comfortable here than outside." he really doesn't get what Gojo saw in you. You're so.. bland. You were too domestic.

"Well, the party offer is still available. Text me whenever you change your mind." he'll prove that you're the same as others. You just need a little bit of pushing, and he'll push you over your limits as much as it's needed.

But you didn't texted him that night. He waited and waited and he didn't got a single message from you. And the next day you had the audacity to appear in the kitchen, wanting to talk to them.

"About what we talked yesterday." you said, looking at the visibly annoyed man, and then at Gojo who was half asleep.

"What did we talked about yesterday?" the white haired man said, only remembering about the party he attended last night.

"I could do the groceries next week." you planned on going out to buy a few things anyway, so you're basically killing two birds in one stone.

"You're sure? There's a big list of things you have to buy." the dark haired man said, trying to push you into asking for help.

"Yeah, don't worry. I have a car, it's not like I'm carrying them from the store here." what a disappointment.

"Wait, what are we talking about?" Gojo finally came to his senses, seeing you appear out of nowhere and talking so casual, for once you didn't looked tired or scared to be there.

"Our chores. Suguru told me about it." all Geto did was to look at his friend, trying to telepathically talk to him, but his face said more than enough. Play along, that's all he had to do.

"Then I'll do the laundry." the dark haired man said, a smile appearing on his face. "And Satoru is doing the dishes."

"What, why me?" this was absurd.

"Because I'm doing them today."

"Anyway, I'm glad we managed to settle this." you said, turning around and ready to go back to your room.

"You could have texted, that's what the group chat is for after all." well, yes, but it was better to do some stuff face to face.

"What group chat?" Gojo was so far behind with this.

"Check your phone." that's all the dark haired man said, making his friend to get his phone out immediately.

"Anyway, I'll go now." and you disappeared from there.

Your life was supposed to be peaceful, wake up, do your usual stuff and then go back to sleep only to wake up and do the same thing again. Some would say that it's boring, but that's how your life is, and you don't want to change it.

However, the devils outside your room said otherwise, texting and texting even though it's not necessarily. Asking if you want to go out, or some other stuff that involves too much physical effort. You get it that they're trying to be friendly, but there's some boundaries and they don't seem to mind stepping over that line.

Your roommates are working full time trying to get you out your room. Sending you risky texts (nothing out of pocket, just stuff they wouldn't usually say), being extra extra nice with you, talking to you in a baby voice and if you're being honest, it's annoying. But you didn't said a thing, trying to help them save some dignity, knowing they probably don't even mean those words.

The stupid might not be so stupid after all. They been observing you, studying you, your likes, your dislikes, your body movements and you as a person. Their study so detailed that it had been a month and a half since you moved in, and now they're putting their plan in action.

It was almost midnight when your phone buzzed, your oh so lovely house mate Suguru send you a text. "Got some takeouts" and a photo of your favorite attached. You recognize the package, it was from your favorite restaurant. "Was on my way home and passed by that place, got something of what they still had left" he texted again. Lies, him and Satoru been placing orders left and right for all kind of food, the ones you like especially.

You thought nothing of it, walking out your room with a smile on your face as you went to taste whatever they have got home.

The next day it was Gojo's turn. Getting home a lot earlier, a bag with some black boxes inside, the name of a fancy restaurant written with gold on them.

"Y/N." he called your name, a smile on his face as he waited for you to come running to him. "Y/N." he said your name again, but you seemed nowhere to be found. God, what were you doing to him.

He left the bags in the kitchen, getting out of there and walking towards your room, opening the door without a warning and looking at you who sat in the bed.

You looked at him, looking a lot more relaxed than when he first met you. You were finally getting some sleep, and he feared that some random fucker would try to steal you from him.

You blinked a few times, eyelashes moving prettily, eyes as big as ever, and he had to mentally slap himself to keep his composure. Forget about the food, he wanted to eat you.

"I-" he took a deep breath, trying to figure out why he came to your room in the first place. "Got some takeouts from this restaurant I've been to." he had no idea what he was saying, he couldn't even hear himself. The way you look at him got him mesmerized.

"Okay." you got up, walking towards him, then into the kitchen.

The package looks expensive, and so did the food. You couldn't help but stare in awe, wandering if you're even allowed to look at it in the first place.

"Got invited to this restaurant that just opened." the white haired man said, looking at you eating. He's indifferent about the food, all he cares about is what you think.

"I see." you could only nod, taking a bite of another thing, tasting it and debating which one tasted better. "It's good." you said.

It didn't matter how much your stupid roommates would try to lure you out, if it wasn't food then it wasn't working. But they kept trying and trying, and they always failed.

Invitations to the movies, parties or even just a walk outside, you'd always decline. It didn't matter if all you had to do is cross the street, you'd say no. A part of you being too embarrassed to go out with them, I mean, what would people say if they see you together? Just look at them, you'll attract all the attention and that's terrifying no matter how much you think about it. Or what if people think you're fucking them or something? Oh god, what would your roommates say?

It wasn't like you wanted to keep that distance, it's just.. they're intimidating. The way they look down at you, corner you at the dining table and sandwiches you between them. The man spreading was real, taking all the space you had, making you feel so so much smaller. They would even take the air from your lungs if it was possible.

Was it wrong to say you liked it? How both of the men bend down to talk to you, or just look at you. Broad shoulders that were double your size, big chests that made you look down way too many times than you'd like to admit. It made you feel bad every time you think of it, but at the same time was it really your fault when they were some nymphs?

They don't seem to do a move, and even if they did, you couldn't figure out if it was some sort of hidden hint or if your overthinking it. They were nice, they were good roommates, but sometimes you wanted more than just little hello's here an there. You gotta do a move, but for the moment you have to think of a plan.

"You're home?" you said, walking into the kitchen and looking at the two men who were still in pyjamas.

"We're not going anywhere today." the dark haired man said, taking something out the fridge and walking next to you, wanting to go back to his room. "You're going somewhere?" he asked, looking at the dress you had on, making his friend look up his phone.

"I'm going out with my friends. I'll be back late." how did the tables turned. "Anyway, see you later." you walked out of there, finally going out for the first time in days.

Everything was going good so far. The weather was nice, you were having a great time, and so did your friends. But just like always, something haves to come up and ruin your mood.

"Y/N, you live with Gojo and Geto, right?" a friend of yours asked, finally letting everyone know of your living situation.

"Yeah." you said nonchalantly, not seeing why your friend should bring your roommates into the discussion.

"It's true? Spell the tea, and don't miss a single detail." another person said, but you weren't even sure of what to say.

"Which one have you slept with?" you saw your soul leaving at that question. "You haven't?"

"You didn't? Why?" you weren't sure yourself.

"We just live together, nothing more than the same old small talk." but you couldn't deny that they were tempting.

"You could have done it everyday since you live with them."

"Why are we talking about this?" you asked, confused on why you got in this situation in the first place.

"Don't you know?" you shook your head. "They're known for sleeping around." they are? Who could have guessed? You thought they had zero game.

"They're always out to party, in fact, you can't even call a party party if they're not there." one of your friends said, finally answering why your roommates were out all the time.

"They're so popular, there isn't a single person who doesn't know who they are." this have to be an exaggeration.

"So like.. About them.. You know, fooling around." you can't help but be curious. "How much are we talking about it?"

"I heard they take home a girl everyday." you never saw a single girl in there?

"I heard that they don't sleep with the same girl twice." what eccentrics.

"Haven't you heard about that girl that slept with Gojo three times? She's basically calling herself his girlfriend." what? He's in a relationship?

"No way. I saw him two days ago at a party. I almost went home with him." huh? Even your own friends?

"And you didn't invited me?" your other friend gasped then started laughing.

You were curious, just curious. And this cliche of a plot only got you in your thoughts. So, basically, your very hot roommates who seemed out this world had their own planet where they bang everyone but you. They go party all night and then leave with god knows who while you're at home in your room doing what you usually do.

It was none of your business, and yet you can't help but feel bad. What was wrong with you? Do you not have any kind of sex appeal? Was this why Gojo even asked you to move into his place? Because he knew he could leave you be? He should be happy that you looked in his direction to begin with.

More questions appeared, and you kept sulking for the rest of the day, even when you got home.

You shouldn't had asked, you should have minded your own business because now you can't help be sad. Why couldn't it be you?

"I'm back." you said while opening the front door, wanting nothing more than take a shower and then sleep for as much as possible.

"Welcome back." you heard Suguru's voice while you were taking your shoes off. "How was out?" tiring, but he didn't needed to know.

"Fun." you said, pushing your shoes to the side, out the way so no one would trip over them. "Got takeouts." you bought some without even thinking. It became normal for them to get something home that you did it without thinking twice.

"I'll get them." he got closer to you, picking the small bag from your hand.

He looked at you with a blank expression. You tried to mimic his face, not wanting to let anyone know about your foolish feelings, this jealousy that was eating you inside. And he picked it up fast, realizing you weren't feeling well.

"You're alright?" he tried to mask any kind of concern, not wanting to show that he cared.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" you couldn't even smile, even if you wanted to.

"Did something happen while you were out?" that's the only explanation he could came up with. Why else would you feel bad if it wasn't that?

"It's just the weather. Don't worry about it." why was he asking if he didn't cared about you? His dumb pity wasn't making you feel any better.

"You can talk to me if you want. I'm always free for you." he talks like he's not free for others as well.

"It's alright. I'll go take a bath and then I'll feel better."

"If you say so." honestly, he was so annoying.

You walked away from there, to your room when you remembered about that bath. Some warm water and the smell of your body wash would work so good in that moment. So, you turned around, going towards the bathroom.

You were so tired, still in your thoughts, overthinking about this whole inexistent situation that you didn't heard the water running.

You open the door, expecting to see an empty bathroom, but instead you saw that somebody was inside. Back towards you and taking a shower, you could recognize that white hair anywhere.

For a moment you froze in place, your body refusing to cooperate with you when you kept yelling internally to run away from there. Your eyes however still worked, and it wander for a little. It traveled from his head, to his neck, and then on his bare back that was exposed to you. He extended his hand, grabbing the closest bottle that was next to him, your shampoo, and putting some in his hand, making you silently gasp.

Forget about your bad mood from earlier, now you were mad at the fact that Satoru was using your shampoo, next thing you know that he's using your towels as well. What if the other man was using your stuff as well? Was that why his hair was looking way too good lately?

You ran out the bathroom, going back to your room, too angry to even change clothes. You just jumped in bed and fell asleep, hoping to wake up and forget about everything that happened.

The next day came, and you woke up a lot earlier than usually. You were hungry, thirsty and your head hurts. You didn't even drank any kind of alcohol yesterday and yet it felt like you were feeling the worst hangover ever know to mankind.

With small steps you walked out your room, eyes still closed as you were trying to find your way to the kitchen.

"Morning, sleepyhead." that colorful voice, as much as you liked Gojo you really couldn't handle his teasing at the moment.

"Mm." you hummed something, looking for some water.

"Do you feel better?" the dark haired man could act like he doesn't know a thing, but instead he chose to embarras you.

"You drank too much yesterday?" Gojo asked, feeling left out by the fact that you went out to drink and you didn't think of inviting him. He wasn't that much of an alcohol fan but he could have come as emotional support.

"Didn't even seen a single drink yesterday." you said, opening a bottle of water. If you would had looked in a better conditions, you would have looked believable, but no. Your hair was in all directions, you looked tired than you should be, and your dress had seen better days.

"Where have you been last night?" Gojo's voice was too serious, and even his smile disappeared. Geto would have put the same question if he didn't saw you yesterday.

"Here, where else?" it's not like you had anywhere else to go. "Fell asleep the moment I sat in bed."

"What happened yesterday anyway?" Geto asked, trying to find out what got you in that mood.

"Did something happen yesterday?" why was Satoru the last one to find stuff?

"She came back yesterday looking sad."

"Did someone did something to you? Is that why you look like that?" seriously, Gojo was over reacting.

"Fell asleep without changing." you were too relaxed about this. While the men were concerned about something bad might had happened, you didn't even seemed to care. "Was too tired yesterday."

"And why is that?" they're too insisting, and you didn't understand why. This is only ruining your mood. If they don't care about you why are they acting so nice? Now you can't but overthink again.

"It's nothing, really." everyone could see the sudden change, from tired you looked a lot sadder now.

"I'll deal with it, just tell me the bastard's name." you wanted to laugh but you were afraid Gojo might actually do something.

"It's not like that."

"Then?" the dark haired man crossed his arms to his chest, leaning against the wall as he looked at you.

"I heard something I didn't like." that was all? They thought someone was bullying you or picking on you. "I mean, I don't know if it's the truth but it makes sense and that's what I don't like."

"Then don't listen to it." you shook your head.

"I had my speculations and now everything is confirmed." you could only sigh.

"Is your boyfriend cheating on you?" boy who?

"I'm not in a relationship." that's reassuring.

"If you don't like the truth just close your eyes. It's easy to ignore what you don't like to see." that explains a lot of their strange behavior, but at the same time you didn't want to do just like Suguru just said.

"It's hard to ignore it when it's right in front of me." what would they know when they're the cause of your distress? "Honestly, I feel much better knowing that I was right. Now I can avoid causing problems." somehow, neither of the men liked how that sounded. "Anyway, I'm going to take a shower and then go back to sleep." why did you even consider their opinion was a mystery, but you do feel better about yourself knowing that you're just being delusional. Live the way you did before meeting them, easy.

You're playing with their feelings, and yours as well. While they're all open for your opinion, and actually growing to have a soft spot for you, you turn your back on them.

What more did you needed from them? They're trying their best to understand you, they've been so understanding and holding back way too much, but you still don't get the hints.

But they also don't get your almost non existent hints. I mean, can their actions be counted as hints? But perhaps that's what's wrong, the fact that no one is actually trying to imply something.

Can this situation get fixed? You refuse to get out your room until you sort your thoughts out. It got to the point where no one have seen you in a week already and Satoru is so close on kicking your door down to drag you out of there.

Frustration keep building up, from both sides. And it manifested in different ways for everybody. While you went out a little more than usually, trying to enjoy some fresh air, your roommates were out getting from bed to bed, making their name more known that it already is.

It didn't lasted long for you though, and soon you went back being a lazy cat. Your social battery drained quicker than you thought, but not theirs. And one day you woke up with strange sounds in the middle of the night.

You were sleeping peacefully when it happened. Being long gone in the dream world when you felt like you were being dragged out of it. Confused, you looked around, trying to understand the situation, what exactly was going on. You got out of bed, walking back and forth in your room, thinking only the worst about this situation.

Your neighbor is hurt, and those sounds are because of it. Or worse, someone broke into the house and your home alone because of course you are, what do you even expect from the two men who lives under the same roof as you.

You open the door slightly, still paranoid, but you were trying to understand what was going on.

You picked one of the house slippers you had next to your bed, ready to hit who ever came close to where you were.

Feminine moans, and you still couldn't figure it out if it was pain or something else. But you finally understood what was going on after a while.

Who dared to wake you up because they couldn't keep it down? Right, how could you forget about how promiscuous those two guys were. What if you come home with a guy one day? At least you had the decency to think of going to a hotel or something, not here where everybody could hear.

Your mood is ruined once again. Can you believe the audacity? How could you have dream about banging one of them, or both? The thought is still nice, and you're not crazy enough to pass such an opportunity, but still.

It was almost noon when you woke up the next day. And as much as you didn't want to see those guy's faces, you were curious about the girl. What did she had and you don't?

Shy, you got out your room. Opening the door of your room softly and walking as quietly as possible.

You walked past the living room when you saw what a mess it was, making you stop in place and reconsider what happened. Maybe somebody did broke into the house yesterday?

Cautiously, you walked towards the couch only to see Gojo sleeping peacefully on it. A blanket over him and it wasn't even covering him. He was also not wearing a shirt, and you could only imagine how he was feeling in that moment. After all, it was always cold in the morning.

Feeling a little bit of sympathy, you decided to do something good for once, even if he was annoying at times. Lowering yourself, you grabbed the blanket and dragged it over him. What happened last night did ruined your mood completely, but this was his house. Your jealousy can be put aside for a moment.

"Mm." he groaned, turning around to face you. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times and looking at you, then blinking a few more times and trying to figure out if you're real or not.

"Did I wake you up?" your soft voice only made him feel guilty, for everything he did. For the fact that he open his door for you with not so clear intentions and the fact that he kept looking at girls who resemble you in a way or another. Just like he did yesterday, meeting someone who looks too much like you in the dark, bringing her home and fucking her on the couch because he didn't want to bring her into his room, and for you to hear. Good thing he stopped himself from bending her over the dining table, right on the spot you like to sit at or else he wouldn't be able to even look at you right now. "Sorry."

"I was awake." he's not even sure if he got any sleep at all.

"I thought you might be cold." the only thing he's feeling at the moment is stupid, and somehow regret but he's not really sure about that.

"I'm not." he said, finally getting up, sitting on the couch and looking around to see if the place looked the same as he remembers. The blanket fell off him, revealing too much of him. You could see his bare back, and a bit of his thighs which were just as naked as his upper body. He looked at you, noticing the way you were trying to figure out why there was so much skin showing. "I'm not wearing any clothes." he answered to your unasked question. "I'm naked." the look you had on your face was something he haven't seen before, and honestly, this small interaction alone was doing more to him that anything he had done for the past few weeks.

You took a few steps back, making him laugh.

He rested his back against the couch, he wasn't even looking at you but he knew exactly what expression you had. "Why did you ran? Don't you wanna see more?" all he got in response was the sound of you walking away, hurried steps getting out the room and leaving him alone once again.

He's not good at communicating, and he's trying to mask that by a goofy facade, hoping you and everyone else won't notice. But man, it kinda hurts. He can't explain why, since he doesn't know why. He just feel dumb, useless for doing things he doesn't want to and still expect stuff to be the same, or even better.

Can you forgive him? He'll try to do better from now on. Either this or he'll bring girls over and over in hope to catch your attention.

"I'll go out, doubt I'll come back until tomorrow." Geto texted in the group chat.

"Me too :(" Gojo also sent something. "Don't miss me too much." you looked at the texts, and you can't be more thankful. You needed some time alone, like, all alone. Just you,the whole house for yourself and the sound of nothing.

"I'll stay home. I don't have any plans for today or tomorrow." and you're happy with your life.

"Don't get too crazy while we're out." the only wild thing you can do is take a cold shower instead of a hot one.

"I won't." and now you were waiting.

Your day was peaceful, watching a movie and then scrolling on social media. You didn't even noticed when it got dark outside, and now you're bored.

You have the whole house for yourself, you're all alone. No one is here besides you.

You're used to them being out, but now it just feels different. You were alone, and you didn't liked it. It was a shame to not have company on such a beautiful night.

Was it wrong to say you craved for some human touch? To feel the warmth of someone else, and perhaps the embrace of said person. It doesn't even have to be something sexual, or romantic. It can be just a simple interaction, no words needed.

You didn't even realize when you started rubbing your thighs together, your body feeling too hot for your own good. And the more you think about it the more it bothers you.

You're alone right now, aren't you? No one is there to disturb you. You can just.. indulge yourself, I guess?

With a quick movement, your pants were somewhere in the room, your shirt up your body, revealing your breasts and your panties to the side. Some porn playing on your phone and it wasn't much for help. That was until you saw one particular video, a man that seemed familiar in a way or another over a much smaller body. Your pussy twitching at the realization of who that man looks like. It looked just like one of your roommates and you were so ashamed for being turned on, but you couldn't help but look for similar stuff.

You needed more of them, anything that resembles your roommates, you needed to see it. It can be the hair, the body, or the way they just fuck. Anything that sparks something in your head, anything that screams them. You can't help but moan just thinking about it.

With a hand between your legs, you tried to mimic the movement of who ever was on your screen, moaning quietly when your imagination was going too wild.

Lost in your own world, you didn't even heard the front door opening, or the steps that were getting closer to your room. You didn't got a text that would warn you about someone coming home, so you weren't worried. Instead you were focused on that orgasm that kept building up, it was so close and you're trying really hard to keep your mind focus, away from those roommates of yours.

The man outside your room froze in place, your door was slightly open and he had a clear view of your bed and your little alone time. He could say something, but at the same time he didn't want to. Seeing you in that situation was too fascinating. Like, who would have thought the little angel that keeps herself from the world would do something like this?

It got him curious, what were you watching? What got you like this in the first place? The moans you leave out from time to time, not sure yourself if you should let them out or not.

What got him to almost open the door and get in your bed was when you came, holding back a moan that he just knows it would get him weak in the knees. You were trembling, eyes closed and biting your shirt to not let anything you might regret out. And you kept going even after you came, this time looking more desperate than before.

He couldn't keep it like this, he haves to do something. So, without thinking, he turned on his phone.

"Something came up, I'll be back in a few minutes." you got a text, looking at the name of the person that sent it and then letting out the moan you were holding back earlier. Suguru.

It only got you feeling more fucked up than you were already. Letting go of your phone and focusing on that annoying aching from between your legs. "Fuck." you cursed without realizing. Letting out small please as you tried to cum at least one more time before he 'came back'.

To his disappointing, you didn't came a second time, putting your clothes back on quickly and trying to make it look like nothing happened. He had no choice but to walk back to his room and try to sleep this off or else he won't be able to leave you alone for the rest of the night.

He couldn't sleep at all, thinking about your reactions, how his text got you moaning harder than before. What were you watching? Was it something he should be aware of? But he couldn't just take your phone and look at what you were looking.

He refuses to live with this information and let you go off easily. You had to pay for your actions. I mean, how could you not ask for help? And how could you let him see you like that when you didn't planned on letting him have any.

So, imagine how surprised he was to see you act like nothing happened the next day. Making him think there was something wrong with him for staring at you way too intensely. But he got a plan. You had to give up at some points, and he'll just help you give up sooner than later for your own good.

"I'm on groceries duty this week?" the dark haired man asked, already knowing what he he'll do.

"Yep." his friend said, looking in his phone.

"You're coming with me, Satoru." he said, a smile on his face and all he could think of was the sweet taste of your pussy on him.

"Why?"

"Just do it. Don't ask so many questions." and the two guys were off.

Now, Geto's plan would work only if you do as he planned. All he haves to do is deny you for a few days, cockblock you and leave you hanging just enough to become dumb for him. Then he haves to act like the knight in shining armor and help you, since he's a gentleman.

That's why he got Gojo with him, leaving him in the middle of the store and running home just to see what you'd do. And to his surprise, you were acting just like he wanted you to. Stuffing yourself full of your fingers, all in a hurry to release yourself from the previous time you couldn't. A hand over your mouth, trying to not let anything out, to not get too comfortable with this. But it was so hard, and you couldn't help but let a few sounds out once in a while.

He really doesn't get you. Why not asking for help? Both of the men were easy, a few nice words or just a nod and they'll be all over you. Heck he's the easiest person he knows. Give him a pretty look and he'll fuck you just the way you want. So why do you keep refusing to acknowledge them, or him at least?

He gulped, biting his lip before he open his mouth. "I'm back." he said it in a quiet tone, to make it look like he was further away than he actually was.

He loved this, the panicked look on your face and trying to gather your composure. Oh , he'll enjoy playing with you.

At first he would just pop out of nowhere, making sure you don't get any time alone, at least without acknowledging his presence. But now he would invite himself in your room whenever he walked past it. Slightly opening the door to catch a glimpse of whatever you were doing. It didn't matter if it was in the middle of the day or at night when he was supposed to sleep.

He can see how frustrated you were, and he couldn't be more happier than this.

"I don't wanna go." Gojo whined, looking at his phone only to sigh. "They'll force me to stay over the night." he pushed his phone far away from him.

"Then don't go?" you didn't understand why he was complicating himself when he could just stay home.

"Another of your family gatherings, huh?" the dark haired man said, making you realize that it was more than it looked like.

"Ah.." you scratched your neck. "We'll miss you." if he had to go, he had to go.

"I wish that I could take Y/N with me, but they'll never let go of it if I take someone with me." the white haired man groaned.

"Good luck." you can't really say much since you don't know how his family was like.

"Are you doing something tonight?" Geto asked, looking down at you and waiting for an answer.

"No."

"Really? Because you look very busy to me." you didn't understood his words. "Why don't you watch a movie with me then? I don't have anything better to do."

"I also wanna watch a movie." the white haired man whined.

"We'll watch when you come back." his friend said, but he wasn't really sure of that.

"I mean, sure." oh, if you only knew what your sweet roommate actually had in mind.

The time went painfully slow. But now it was dark outside once again. And Suguru could feel his palms sweating. What if everything goes as he wanted? He knows he kept thinking about it, but he can't see himself in an adulterous situation with you.

You're just there. You don't do much, you don't talk much and he's used to that. He's used to think about it, always putting what if in front of his day dreams. He was making fun of his friend for being such a dork but now look at him, actually concerned about this whole situation. What if nothing goes as he planned? Or what if it does?

Fucking without any feelings, that's what he's used to. But now this got him thinking that he should run to the closest flower shop to get some roses. Maybe some candles too?

"Suguru, are you awake?" a soft knock on his door woke him up from his thoughts.

"Y- Yeah." his voice betrayed him. "I didn't even noticed the time." he lied, finally opening the door and stepping into the hallway.

"What are we watching?" you moved your eyelashes so prettily. He's afraid he won't last that long next to you, especially since you're alone.

"I don't know." he didn't think that further yet.

In the end, you turned on the TV on a random channel, watching whatever it was on. A movie about a man trying to be a hero, the same old generic plot, with the same over the top acting and action. Lots of explosion and lots of unnecessary stuff. But it was the perfect movie for your situation.

No love included, no sweet words or couples. It was enough to make the two of you forget about the awkwardness between you two. Or so you thought. Because halfway through the movie the female lead appeared. And some time later the two actors were getting it on.

You couldn't help but stare in disbelief, the sex was so dry that you're surprised they let the scenes in the movie. On the other side of the couch, your roommate was trying his best to not look at you or else he might do something out of pocket.

You, however, didn't feel the same as him. So you turned your head towards him, looking at how uncomfortable he was. "You're alright?" don't look at him, don't look at him, don't- "This movie is stupid." you laughed, thinking that's what he wanted to say as well but he decided not to. "Wanna watch something else?" right, how did he not think of that?

Taking the remote, he changed the channel. And this one was even worse. Without any warnings you were looking now at two other actors making out like there was no tomorrow. And as much as he wanted to see your reaction, he changed the channel without hesitating.

Third time with luck. No explicit actions, just two actors out in the city, walking next to each other.

"I always wanted to tell you this, ever since I first met you." the male actor said, looking at his costar a bit too lovingly.

"I also have something to say." the female actor said, looking a bit shy and red in the cheeks.

"You go first." the male actor said, biting his lip and holding back whatever he wanted to say.

"Do you think this is a spy movie?" you asked, trying to alternate the plot even if it was obviously what was going on.

"I like you." one of the actors said and it made you sigh.

"Never mind." you shook your head.

"It would have been funny it if was." at least he was on the same page as you. And once again, he changed the channel, for your own goods.

"Thanks god it's ads." you could finally breath in peace.

You watch some cartoons and then change the channel again when it got too boring. The movie from earlier where those actors were confessing their love was now filled with obscene scenes. And unlike before, they actually looked they really were in heat. Touching each other like there's no tomorrow, the kisses looks so real that you won't be surprised if they actually start fucking. Even the moans sounded real.

Not wanting to look at that for any longer, you turned off the tv, breathing heavily and hoping you don't look like you're affected by it.

You gulped, wanting to see how the man next to you was doing, but at the same time you didn't want to look because you knew this was going to be a long night the moment you gave him any attention. And he was feeling the exact same, not daring to move an inch because he knew he couldn't keep his hands away from you for much longer.

Curiosity got the best of you, and in the end you ended up turning your head towards him, at the same time as he looked at you.

No one said a thing. The silence was too audible, but somehow comfortable.

"Come here." he said, resting his back against the couch and waiting for your move. You'd probably run, like you always do. That's what he expected you to do, but imagine his surprise when you got closer, looking at him with big eyes and waiting for his next command. He's not convinced yet, I mean, this was too good to be true, there haves to be a catch. "Here." he pat his lap, waiting to see if he could have you for the night or not.

You got on his lap, your legs on either sides of him and your hands on his shoulders. His hands travelled on your hips, moving them up your body, grabbing one of your boobs for a moment before he let go. He dragged you closer, lowering his head just enough to get a better look at you before his lips touched yours.

He's testing the waters, trying to see what you allow him to do, where your boundaries were before he'll let you have more of him.

But you didn't pushed him away no matter what he did. He could explore your body freely, there was no forbidden zone, he could touch all of your body and that only made him greedier.

All the shyness from earlier evaporated, all the awkwardness and doubt went out the window the moment the kiss became a much deeper one. Now you were eating each other out, hands all over the place and dragging the other closer whenever one got a little away.

"Let me take it off." he got away for a moment, taking your shirt off with a single movement. His lips were now on your neck, going down to your breasts and biting them, leaving marks all over the place.

This wasn't his usual style, marking his territory and making out. He usually just gets to the business. And he been lying if he said he didn't like what he's doing now.

One of his hands went to your ass, dragging you closer, moving yourself right on his hard cock that wanted to escape from his pants. He's about to lose it but at the same time he wants to take his sweet time because he haves a feeling that you'll run away from him tomorrow.

He guided you at first, moving you on him so both of you could get some friction, a little bit of relief before the big thing happens.

He kissed you, again and again. From your lips to your neck, sucking on your nipples and then back up. He wanted to know he been there before anyone else or at least before his absent friend.

You moaned quietly, letting out sounds bearly audible, holding back anything louder than that. But it was alright, he'll make you louder later.

The image of you stuffing your pussy with your fingers, desperately to cum was now playing in his mind.

He wants to try that, his cock is twitching just thinking about how warm and wet you must be.

He got you off him, getting up and looking at your disappointed face. "Take off your pants." he tried to keep his words minimal, but it was more than enough to get your face change in a instant.

Your actions holds more power over him than you think. It got his mouth watering just looking at you.

He took you in his arms, walking towards your room, almost kicking the door down so he could get in faster. He placed you at the edge of your bed, taking your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket, not even caring if you noticed him or not. Then he took his shirt off.

Pushing you in bed and hovering over you, placing your legs over his thighs so it would stay open. With a finger, he traveled in between your folds just to see how wet you were. How can he hold back when he haves you like this? He doesn't even think he can put his dick in just yet, who knows when he'll lose his composure and fuck everything up. One moment inside your warm pussy and it's over for him.

"Stop staring, it's embarrassing." your small voice didn't helped him with the demons inside of him.

He bite his lip, getting two of his fingers slowly inside your pussy. It was hard to hold back whatever words he had to say, he especially didn't wanted to let out any praises after you played with his feelings.

You feel a lot better than he expected, and his bars were already high. Somehow you manage to always exceed his expectations. Can you blame him when he started to move his fingers deeper and deeper? He just wanted to see how far he could go, see where your sweet spots are so he could give them the attention it needed.

Curling his fingers to see how you'd react, moving in and out at a fast speed only to slow down and curl his fingers again. You almost started crying when he started rubbing your clit. He was so focused on torturing you, showing you that it was better with him giving you what you needed than doing it yourself.

And when you came it wasn't even better, he kept his hand movement, overstimulating you just to show you that he can. But you too could play his game, tugging at his shirt to drag him closer to you and kiss him, making him stop for a moment. Ah, right. You probably wanted more than just his fingers after all this time he kept tormenting you.

He took his fingers out of you, making you feel empty. Now focusing on kissing you. The way he takes everything so slow was annoying, and you tried to grab his shirt, to get it off him. But that only made him laugh. "I'm not going anywhere." he said with a smile on his face, surprised at how impatient you were.

He can't say he doesn't get it, because he understands how you feel perfectly. And as much as he wants to tease you more, he can't. So he did as you pleased, taking off his clothes. Your eyes on him the whole time.

He got on top of you once again, getting in between your legs and staring at you. His cock resting on your lower stomach, just to get an idea of how much he could fit inside and man, looking at the size now you're a little scared, but still very much aroused.

As much as he wanted to turn a blind eye on this, he couldn't. Not when he sees how you look at him. Guess he was right about not being able to go all the way in today. He'll have to take small steps and he's afraid he doesn't have that much time.

So, he pressed your legs together, placing them over his shoulder, getting his cock in between your thighs. "You can't handle it." his words didn't made you happy. I mean, even if it was true, wasn't he supposed to suport you? Compliment you and tell you how good your doing, that you can take it.

He moved his hips slowly, ignoring the expression you're giving him and focusing on the friction. God, next time he'll get his hands on you he won't leave you alone.

You calmed down, now examining his face, his movement and how you could see the tip of his cock every time his pelvis touched the back of your thighs.

An idea appeared in your head, and you flexed your thighs, looking at the way he groaned, gripping your skin harder.

"You like it?" you were curious, just wanting to know how he feels, but he interpreted your words differently. "Should I do it again?" are you mocking him? Because if you continue like this he'll make this harder for you.

Your eyes had something innocent in them, like you were genuinely curious about his pleasure, yet he refused to believe it. I mean, you had him in such a desperate state, there was no way you weren't laughing at him.

"Close your eyes." he placed a hand over your eyes. He was feeling too embarrassed for his own good.

"I like looking at you." you tried to take his hand away. "You're cute." all he did was to groan in response. "Let me look at you, come on." you spend way too much time thinking about this to not be able to see him.

"Stay put or I'll fuck your pussy so good you'll forget your own name." he kept barking something between his teeth. But you didn't listen to his empty words. You wanted to see him in action not just talking.

"Come ooon." you whined, not listening to his threat.

Instead of any more words, you were met with him spreading your legs and his cock right against your pussy. You wanted to look at him? Then look.

Your heart was beating way too fast, and he wasn't even paying you attention. Slapping the tip of his cock against your wet folds, rubbing it up and down, and the slapping your poor pussy again. Taming brats was one of his favorite activities after all.

No matter how much he wants to show you that he's not just talk, he's true to his words. He'll let this slide this time.

So, to show you that he can still give you something without his cock deep inside of you, he got his body closer to yours. Pressing his thick length against your pussy, right onto your clit, and moving his hips slowly for you to get used to this feeling.

You did know your place after all, and yet you liked pressing his buttons. Lucky you he enjoyed your company or else he wouldn't have taken your teasing that lightly. But the more he thinks about it the more it gets on his nerves.

He started to let some of his weight into you, pressing his pelvis into yours harder, moving his hips faster. His hot breath against your ear, letting nothing but filthy sounds out, moans just for you to hear. And he was met with your nails into his back, dragging him closer, wanting to feel more of him on you, your legs wrapped around his waist and you wished nothing more but to see him from a third view, to have a better look at his back and just him in general.

Your moans, he wanted to eat them up. He was trying his absolute best not to kiss you in that moment. Because if he does, it's most likely he'd get used to it, and he doesn't want that.

"Suguru." the way you said his name got his cock twitching. "Kiss me." he groaned. You'll be too spoiled if he fulfills every single one of your requests. "Please?" he had to bite your shoulder in order to keep a moan from coming out.

Stop playing with him, for fucks shake. Can't you see he's unwell? Look at the way he's moving his hips, always doing what makes you feel good. He's not acting like his usual self. He's not selfish, he's not seeing this as a quick way to get off then say goodbye. All you could do in that moment is not give him attention, make him feel indifferent but instead you want more of him and it pissing him off because he wants more too.

"I want to cum inside you so bad." he let his thoughts out, too lost on how wet your pussy was, leaking out so much that it got on his dick without doing anything.

"Don't." you shook your head, not wanting to deal with any surprises.

He let you have unnecessary request, and yet he's not allowed that much? Perhaps you're the greedier one here. And he too can be mean.

Without much warning, he smashed his lips against yours, devouring you as his cock rubbed against you harder, in a much friendless pace. Trying to suck the soul out of you, muffling any sounds you might let out.

One of his hands on the side of your thigh, rubbing it up and down and sending chills down your spine. His tongue in your mouth and you can't hold it together for much longer.

Wrapping your hands around him, you left out a broken whine, that only got to him. You were so close to your release, he could practically pull that orgasm out of you if he's trying a little bit harder. But he'll be merciful tonight, mostly because he'll lose his mind if he doesn't.

You didn't lasted much longer, and seeing you cum makes him want to cum. And man, he came all over your belly, breathing heavily and resting his head against your shoulder.

"You did good." you said, going with your hand through his hair.

For a moment, he allowed you to praise him, closing his eyes and bathing in your scent and you kept petting him. But it didn't lasted for long because he came back to his senses, getting off you and helping you clean yourself.

He still can't believe he came that hard from nothing. If he stayed in your arms for any more longer he would have screw everything up. Even if he wants to leave you alone, run out your room and don't look back at it at least until tomorrow, he stayed. Watching you fall asleep before he left quietly, doing the walk of shame to his room and rethinking his whole life and everything he did wrong until then.

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