#I don't need to go back through everything

[mcrdvcks]

— sex concept

summary: You and Matt have wanted to take things to the next level, but every time you try to get intimate, something, or someone, interrupts.

word count: 4.1k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: at this point, i think i need to make a series masterlist for these two, lol. here's the third installment - and here are the first two: goodnight n go and love language

also, sex concept is one of my favorite songs, and it's by sofia isella. i recommend you go check her out!

warnings/tags: after endgame but date is not specified, best friends to lovers, reader works at stark industries, making out, peter parker, mention of other marvel characters, matt's a little shit, smut, oral (f!receiving), brief handjob, unprotected piv, creampie

matt murdock masterlist

It wasn’t like you and Matt hadn’t been alone since you started dating. But somehow, every single attempt at finally taking things further kept getting inconveniently interrupted.

Like now, for instance.

Matt’s lips skimmed along your neck, his fingers tracing patterns along your waist. You sighed softly, tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Matty," you whispered.

He hummed against your skin, nudging your jaw with his nose. "Yeah?"

"Can we—"

Your sentence was abruptly cut short by the shrill ringing of your phone.

Matt paused, a quiet groan muffled against your collarbone. "Ignore it."

You hesitated. "But what if—"

"It’s probably nothing," he murmured, lips brushing your pulse. "Leave it."

It kept ringing. You sighed, gently pushing at his shoulders. "It’ll only take a second. Just let me silence it."

Matt exhaled sharply, moving back slightly as you reached over and grabbed your phone off the bedside table. Glancing at the screen, you rolled your eyes.

"Work," you muttered, annoyed. You answered quickly. "This better be an emergency."

"Y/N," Levi’s voice crackled through the line, anxious. "I’m so sorry—"

"What happened?"

"Uh... you know how we were testing the new phase-array sensors tonight?"

"Levi."

"Well, it shorted. Everything’s offline. And the readings are… weird."

You groaned softly, pressing your fingers to your forehead. "I’ll be there in half an hour." You hung up, sighing again as you tossed your phone onto the bed.

Matt shifted beside you. "You’re leaving?"

"I’m sorry," you muttered. "It’s—"

"Work," Matt finished gently. He tilted his head, clearly amused. "You know, I think Stark Industries has a personal vendetta against us."

You huffed, tugging your shirt back into place. "I’ll make it up to you. I promise."

Matt leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours quickly. "You better."

You rolled your eyes, reluctantly climbing off the bed. "Don't move. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Matt fell back onto the pillows with a sigh, his smirk unmistakable. "I'll hold you to that, angel."

---

A few days later, Matt had just managed to maneuver you against the kitchen counter, lips claiming yours fiercely. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

Then, abruptly, a loud knock at his apartment door broke the silence. Matt froze, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder with a frustrated exhale.

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered.

"Ignore it," he whispered, kissing your neck gently.

The knocking grew louder.

"Murdock!" Foggy's muffled voice echoed through the wood. "Come on, man, open up! I know you're home!"

Matt sighed heavily, pulling away. "He'll keep going until I answer."

You slumped against the counter dramatically. "I swear he has a sixth sense."

Matt smiled apologetically. "This'll be quick."

You folded your arms, watching as Matt made his way to the door, cracking it open just enough to speak. "Foggy. Bad timing."

"Yeah, sorry, I lost the deposition file," Foggy admitted sheepishly. "I need your copy."

Matt sighed, turning his head toward you slightly. "Give me a minute."

You threw your hands up, shooting him a pointed glare. Matt smiled, mouthing sorry before slipping out the door.

---

It had almost become a joke at this point. Every single time the two of you finally got a moment alone, something managed to interrupt.

You and Karen were at Josie’s, waiting for Matt and Foggy to arrive.

“Wanna tell me why you seem so pent up?” Karen asked, taking a drink of her beer.

You sighed, swirling your drink in the glass. "Because apparently, the universe hates me."

Karen raised a brow, amused. "That's dramatic, even for you."

"No, I'm serious," you insisted, leaning closer. "Every single time Matt and I are about to—" You paused, realizing you'd almost said too much. "Spend any sort of actual alone time together, something always interrupts."

Karen smirked knowingly, taking another sip. "Oh. That kind of pent up."

You glared at her. "Shut up."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Sorry, it's just funny. You two spend practically all your time together. I'm surprised you even have that problem."

"Yeah, well, apparently work, Foggy, and fate itself have formed an alliance against us," you muttered bitterly.

"Have you tried just… telling people not to bother you?" Karen teased.

You scoffed. "We tried that. Believe me, it doesn't work."

Karen hummed sympathetically. "Well, if it's any consolation, I promise to never intentionally interrupt your... alone time."

"Thanks," you replied dryly, "that’s very generous."

She grinned. "Hey, I do what I can."

Just then, the bar door swung open, and Foggy walked in, Matt close behind him. You caught Matt’s slight smile as he tilted his head toward you, making his way through the crowd.

Karen nudged you playfully. "Better luck tonight?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop a small smile. "I doubt it, but thanks for the optimism."

Matt stepped up beside you, his hand automatically finding your waist. "Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "Sorry we're late."

You sighed dramatically. "Don't worry about it. At this point, I'm used to it."

Matt chuckled softly, squeezing your side. "Tonight'll be different. Promise."

Karen snorted into her drink. "Good luck with that."

You glared at her again, and she raised her hands innocently.

Matt's brow furrowed, sensing the tension. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing at all," Karen said, grinning widely. "Y/N was just filling me in on your streak of bad luck."

Matt’s lips quirked upward. "Oh. That."

Foggy looked between the three of you, utterly lost. "Am I missing something here?"

You shook your head, patting Foggy on the shoulder. "Trust me, Fog. You're better off not knowing."

---

Matt’s apartment was quiet when you stepped inside, locking the door behind you. The blinds were drawn shut, the place cloaked in comfortable darkness. You dropped your keys onto the entry table, taking off your jacket and hanging it beside Matt’s familiar black coat.

"Matty?" you called softly, stepping further into the apartment.

"Bedroom," came his muffled reply.

You kicked off your shoes, padding down the hall until you reached his room. Matt was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a clean shirt. He looked relaxed, freshly showered, hair still damp and slightly messy. He tilted his head in your direction, lips curving into a gentle smile.

"Hey," he said softly.

You smiled, stepping toward him. "Hi."

Matt reached for you, fingers easily catching your wrist and tugging you closer, his hands settling comfortably at your hips. "How was work?"

You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. "The usual Stark chaos. Nothing new."

His lips twitched. "So no interruptions planned tonight?"

You laughed quietly, your fingers trailing down the side of his face. "Not that I know of. Unless Foggy’s about to burst through the door."

Matt smiled, tilting his head slightly into your palm. "Not tonight. He and Karen have dinner plans."

"Thank God," you muttered.

Matt chuckled softly, pulling you gently closer so you were standing between his legs. His thumbs brushed lightly against your sides. "You hungry?"

You shook your head slightly, leaning down until your forehead rested against his. "Not really."

"Good," Matt whispered, voice low and warm. "Me either."

You smiled softly, tracing your fingertips over the curve of his jaw. His hands slid beneath your shirt, settling warmly against your lower back. You inhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut as he guided your lips down to his own.

The kiss was gentle at first, soft and unhurried. Matt���s lips brushed yours slowly, carefully, as if savoring every moment. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pressing closer.

Matt sighed against your lips, deepening the kiss. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, guiding you down until you settled comfortably across his lap. Your arms looped around his shoulders, your bodies pressed close enough that you could feel the steady beat of his heart.

"Matt," you whispered breathlessly against his lips, smiling faintly. "If my phone rings, I swear—"

Matt’s quiet laughter cut you off, his mouth skimming along your jaw. "I’ll throw it out the window myself."

You huffed softly, tilting your head back to give him better access. "Promises, promises, Murdock."

Matt smirked against your skin, his voice low and teasing. "Careful, sweetheart. I might hold you to that."

You laughed quietly, tangling your fingers in his hair again and pulling him back to your lips. For the first time in weeks, there were no interruptions—just you, Matt, and the steady, comforting quiet of his apartment.

But, of course, it could never be that easy.

A knock rattled on a window in the living room.

Matt froze, forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me."

You groaned, your fingers tangling into his hair. "I swear, this is a cosmic joke at this point."

The knocking grew louder, quicker, more urgent. Matt sighed, lifting his head reluctantly. "Who even—"

A muffled voice called from outside, high-pitched and apologetic. "Uh... Mister Murdock? It’s—it's me, Peter. Spider-Man? Sorry, I just—I kinda need help."

You raised a brow. "Spider-Man knocks now?"

Matt sighed deeply. "Apparently."

You stood up from Matt’s lap, fixing your shirt as Matt slowly stood beside you, annoyance radiating off him.

Peter tapped again, more sheepishly this time. "Hello? Uh—Matt?"

"Coming," Matt called, moving toward the window with a heavy sigh.

You followed behind, crossing your arms as Matt slid the window open. Peter awkwardly crawled inside, tugging off his mask with a nervous grimace.

"Hey, Mr. Murdock," he mumbled, turning to you. "Hey, Y/N. Sorry if this is a bad time, but—"

"Is the city actively on fire?" Matt cut in, voice flat.

Peter hesitated. "Well, no, but—"

"Is anyone dying?" Matt continued.

Peter shifted nervously. "No, but I—"

Matt folded his arms, visibly unimpressed. "Is Stark Tower currently collapsing into a giant sinkhole?"

Peter blinked. "What? No."

Matt nodded slowly. "Then this probably could’ve waited."

Peter flushed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "Oh. Yeah, I guess it could’ve. But I, uh... I kinda panicked.”

You sighed, stepping toward Peter. "What happened, Pete?"

Peter winced, holding up his web-shooter. "It, um... jammed. And I can’t get it off."

Matt tilted his head, incredulous. "You came to me—at my apartment—at night—because your web-shooter jammed?"

Peter swallowed nervously. "I tried everyone else, Mr. Murdock. Literally everyone else."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Everyone?"

"Doctor Strange yelled at me for disturbing his 'cosmic meditation,' Happy sent me straight to voicemail, Mr. Wilson laughed for a full two minutes before hanging up, and Pepper���s voicemail said she’s out of town." Peter said quickly. "You two were my last option."

You glanced at Matt, suppressing a smile at his annoyed expression. "Alright, fine," you sighed. "Let me see it."

Peter held his arm out gratefully, relaxing as you started examining the device. Matt leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "You realize I’m blind, right?"

Peter flushed deeper. "Well, yeah, but you're like... you're Daredevil."

Matt’s jaw ticked slightly. "And?"

"And," Peter swallowed, voice small, "and I’m really, really sorry for interrupting your night. Again."

Matt sighed heavily, shaking his head as you fiddled with the shooter.

"Got it," you finally announced, popping the jammed cartridge free and handing it back to him. "All fixed."

Peter sighed dramatically. "Thank you so much. Really, I—"

"Pete," Matt interrupted gently. "Go home."

Peter nodded quickly, already halfway back out the window. "Yeah. Right. Okay. Goodnight Mr. Murdock, Y/N."

He vanished just as fast as he’d appeared, leaving silence behind him.

Matt tilted his head back toward you, annoyance fading into amusement. "How much do you think it'd cost to soundproof these windows?"

You smirked, stepping closer to him again. "Worth every penny, honestly."

Matt smiled, tugging you back toward him, fingertips brushing your waist. "Where were we?"

You grimaced. “Actually… Peter’s webshooter’s reminded me of—”

“—Ramen.” Matt cut in.

Your eyebrows raised, “how’d you know?”

Matt chuckled softly, his fingertips brushing your hip gently. "Because anytime Peter shows up, it means your brain starts spinning with work and you always end up craving ramen afterward."

You huffed, poking his chest lightly. "You make me sound predictable."

He tilted his head, amused. "Am I wrong?"

"No," you muttered begrudgingly. "But you don't have to sound so smug about it."

Matt's lips twitched into a smirk. "Can't help it."

You sighed, stepping back slightly. "Come on, let's go get ramen before they close."

"Alright," Matt conceded, grabbing his coat. "But you're buying, since it's your fault."

"My fault?" you repeated incredulously as you slipped on your shoes.

"Your spider-friend, your problem," Matt teased lightly, holding the door open for you.

You rolled your eyes fondly. "He's everyone's spider-friend, Matty."

"Well, everyone doesn't get their evening interrupted like we do."

You linked your arm through his as you stepped outside. "Sounds like someone's still bitter."

Matt hummed softly. "Just hungry."

"Whatever you say, devil boy," you said with a smirk.

He laughed quietly, squeezing your arm lightly. "Lead the way, sweetheart."

---

It had taken another two weeks, three false alarms, and one very apologetic Spider-Man before you and Matt finally managed to find yourselves completely alone, no distractions in sight.

"Door?" Matt asked, murmuring against your lips, his voice husky and quiet.

"Locked," you whispered back.

"Phone?"

"On silent."

Matt smiled against your mouth. "Windows?"

You sighed, pulling back slightly. "Closed. Matt, relax. Everything’s handled."

He chuckled softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you back in. "Just making sure."

You smiled, sliding your arms around his neck and playing with the soft hair at his nape. "At this point, I think we've earned tonight."

Matt hummed quietly, brushing his lips gently along your jaw. "I’m not letting anyone interrupt us tonight, sweetheart."

Your breath hitched slightly, your fingers tightening gently in his hair. "Good. Because I might actually murder whoever tries."

He laughed softly, nudging your nose lightly with his own. "Noted."

You tugged gently at his shirt, pulling him backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You sat down slowly, smiling as Matt followed you without hesitation, settling himself carefully above you.

"You’re sure no spider-kid’s gonna come tapping at the window tonight?" you teased softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

He tilted his head slightly, smiling down at you. "I might actually lose my patience with him if he does."

You laughed quietly, hooking your legs around his hips and tugging him closer. "So fierce, devil boy."

Matt leaned down, lips brushing your ear. "Only for you."

Warmth pooled in your stomach at the softness in his voice, your heart thudding in your chest as you pulled him into a slow, deep kiss.

His lips moved carefully, tenderly, hands slipping beneath your shirt to rest against your bare skin, tracing gentle circles along your waist. You sighed softly against his lips, your fingertips trailing down his chest to find the hem of his shirt.

Matt pulled back slightly, just enough to let you pull his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside. His lips found yours again immediately, kissing you with renewed urgency, his skin warm under your hands.

"Still good?" he murmured against your mouth.

You nodded, breath catching. "Better than."

His hands slid slowly up your sides, under your shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin until he reached the hem and pulled it up and off you. The second it hit the floor, he was kissing you again, deeper this time. Tongue slow and sure, like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth, then pulled back just enough to speak.

"Lie back for me, angel."

You obeyed without hesitation, stretching across the bed, propped up slightly on your elbows as Matt’s hands found your thighs. He knelt between them, head tilted, his expression unreadable but focused. You could feel the weight of his attention even without his eyes.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "I can feel every little shift in your breathing, hear your heartbeat changing every time I touch you. You're driving me insane."

Your breath caught as his palms slid up your thighs, thumbs pressing gently into the muscle. He leaned in slowly, trailing soft kisses along the inside of your knee, up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You gasped quietly when he nuzzled higher, the stubble on his jaw catching against your skin. One of his hands gripped your thigh, the other pressing a warm palm flat against your stomach, grounding.

"You want this?" he asked softly, mouth brushing right against the waistband of your underwear.

"Yes," you breathed, eyes fluttering. "Matty, please."

That was all it took. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, dragging the fabric down your legs with excruciating slowness, kissing each new inch of skin he exposed. Once they were gone, he settled between your legs like he belonged there.

You squirmed, breathless already. Matt’s hands eased your thighs wider, lips brushing the softest kisses down the crease of your hip. Then lower.

His tongue flicked out, teasing, and you gasped, head dropping back against the pillow.

"Fuck," you whispered.

Matt exhaled a soft laugh, the sound warm against your skin. "That good already, sweetheart?"

Then he buried his mouth between your thighs. No warning, no hesitation. Just heat and tongue and pressure that had your back arching off the bed.

"Ah—Matty," you choked out, hands scrambling for his hair, needing something to hold onto as his tongue licked a slow, devastating stripe up your center.

He groaned like he tasted the sound you made, hands anchoring you, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your thighs as he worked.

You were already dripping for him, and he didn’t let up, tongue pressing and curling in ways that made your entire body tremble. He knew exactly how to read you—the way your hips twitched, the way your moans caught, the way your breath stuttered when he sucked just right.

Your thighs started to shake.

"Matty—oh god—please don’t stop," you gasped, one hand flying to muffle your mouth, the other tangled in his messy hair.

He didn't stop.

He doubled down.

His mouth moved faster, tongue fucking into you before flattening and dragging slow, greedy circles over your clit, sucking just hard enough to make you cry out.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna—" Your whole body tensed, thighs clamping, and Matt growled against you, holding you open, not letting you go anywhere.

"Let go," he murmured against your soaked skin. "Come on, angel. Come for me."

You shattered.

It hit hard, sharp and overwhelming, your hips jerking as the orgasm ripped through you. You cried out, hands fisting in the sheets, breath breaking as your body shook.

Matt held you through every second of it, mouth softening but never leaving you, licking you through the aftershocks with slow, lazy strokes until you finally whimpered, pushing weakly at his head.

He kissed your inner thigh one last time before crawling back up, settling his weight gently over you, mouth slick and smile smug.

"Hi," he murmured.

You huffed a laugh, dazed and breathless. "You’re such a menace."

"You love it," he said, kissing your cheek, your jaw, the tip of your nose.

"Maybe," you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. "Come here."

He kissed you slowly, deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. His body pressed heavy and warm against yours, one hand slipping down to cradle your thigh, the other bracing next to your head.

You wrapped your legs around him, tugging him closer.

"Your turn, devil boy."

Matt's breath caught. His body stilled above yours, tension rolling through his shoulders like a current. He tilted his head slightly, and you could feel him—feel the way he honed in on every shift of your breath, the thump of your pulse, the way your thighs clenched around his hips.

"Say it again," he murmured.

You smirked, dragging your nails lightly down his spine. "Your turn."

Matt groaned softly, low and wrecked, like the words hit somewhere primal. One of his hands cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip as he leaned in, voice rough. "Tell me if anything's too much."

"Matty," you whispered, hips rolling up against the bulge still trapped in his pants, "I want all of it."

His mouth crashed back onto yours—hot, open, desperate. You tasted yourself on his lips, still slick and wet from where he’d had his mouth on you, and it made something in your gut twist up tight.

His hands were everywhere—your ribs, your thighs, your throat. Always so fucking careful, even when he was losing control. Even now, his fingers trembled where they gripped your hip.

"Take 'em off," you whispered against his mouth, tugging at the waistband of his pants.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back on his knees, hands fumbling at his belt. You watched him—bare chest rising with each shaky breath, flushed, lips red from kissing you senseless, hair sticking up like you’d dragged your fingers through it one too many times. The second he shoved his pants low, you saw the outline of him, thick and hard, the head already leaking.

You bit your lip. "God, Matty."

He huffed a breathless laugh, cocky but a little shaky. "You looking at me like that isn’t helping."

"I like what I see."

Matt didn’t answer—just leaned in again, reaching down to wrap a hand around himself. He stroked slow, base to tip, teasing himself while he hovered over you, breath hot against your cheek.

You reached down, fingertips grazing his wrist. "Let me."

He let you take over, groaning softly when your hand wrapped around him. You stroked him slowly, dragging your thumb over the head, spreading the precum, watching the way his jaw flexed.

"You feel so fucking good," you whispered.

Matt's voice was strangled. "You keep doing that and this is gonna be over before it starts."

You laughed softly, but let go, guiding him instead—his hips nudging between your legs, cock heavy and hot, head sliding wet over your slit. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you whispered, fingers curling in his hair. "Matty, please."

He pushed in slow. The stretch was deep, thick, dragging your walls open inch by inch until he bottomed out with a shaky groan.

"F-fuck," he whispered against your throat. "You feel... Jesus."

You were gasping, clinging to his shoulders, your body trying to adjust around him. It wasn’t your first time. Wasn’t his either. But it was your first time together. And it was already better than anything you'd felt before.

Matt didn’t move right away. He just held there, forehead pressed to your shoulder, one hand braced by your head and the other gripping your thigh like it grounded him.

"Matty," you whispered. "Move. Please."

He did.

A slow pull, then a push, dragging back in with a rhythm that felt like it was made just for you. He moaned into your neck, his voice thick with want. "So fucking tight—"

Your nails bit into his skin as he picked up pace, shallow thrusts turning deeper, faster. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, slick and wet and obscene. You couldn't stop the noises leaving your mouth, couldn't quiet the little cries every time he hit that spot inside you that made your legs tremble.

"You’re perfect," he panted. "Every sound you make—fuck, I can feel them. Hear 'em in your throat, in your chest—"

"Matt—"

"I’ve wanted this," he groaned, fucking into you harder now, the bed creaking beneath both of you. "You. For years. Always thought about you. Touching you. Making you come on my cock."

Your breath stuttered. "Holy fuck, Matty—"

"Come for me," he growled, his thumb finding your clit and circling, firm and fast. "Right now. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Wanna hear how you sound when you fall apart."

You didn’t stand a chance. Your orgasm hit hard, sudden, crashing through you with a strangled cry, your legs tightening around his waist.

Matt cursed, fucking you through it, hips stuttering as he groaned, low and wrecked. "Shit—gonna come—fuck—"

He slammed in deep and came with a gasp, cock pulsing inside you, heat spilling as his whole body trembled above you. He collapsed onto his forearms, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing like you’d run a marathon.

"Jesus," you whispered, still shaking.

Matt laughed, soft and breathless. "Yeah. That about covers it."

You grinned, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. "Worth the wait."

His lips found yours again, soft now, lingering.

"Every second."

And for once, nothing interrupted.

if you have any requests with these two, don't be afraid to send in an ask!!

[rafesangelita]

hii!! i was thinking of bsf!jj but a bit pervy?? like for example he always warns reader to wear tops that are less revealing and don't have her tits all out, but when she does wear tops like that— he uses her as some sort of prize at random stores for free shit, being the little innocent thing reader is, jj coaches reader what to do n how to do it!!!

warnings: dark themes (you’ve been warned!!), manipulation, coercion, playful banter

a/n: okay i can’t believe i let this req sit for so long.. some more pervybsf!jj requests would be amazing and immensely appreciated!!

jj never failed to make you cross your arms over your chest, an inkling of insecurity gnawing at your heart strings as he lectured you about wearing anything that showed too much skin.. especially your tits. he’d pull you aside from the rest of the group, caging you between his arms as he leaned down and spoke roughly in your ear. “what did i tell you about wearing shit like this? you have everyone looking at you and thinking of god knows what.” despite him making a pout form on your lips, the harshness of his words was softened by the slow strokes of his fingertips against your cheek.

“i just thought it was pretty—” you gazed up at him with teary eyes, “it is. it’s sooo pretty, but i don’t think everyone needs to see you in it,” he traced the neckline of your top, a shiver running down your spine as he skimmed the soft flesh of your breasts, “unless you could get me something out of it..” your face twisted into one of confusion as jj was hit with an epiphany, an evil grin spreading across his lips at the thought. from that day forward, jj made you wear a cardigan with all of your cute tops, only allowing you to take it off once you two walked inside a store or restaurant establishment.

“remember to do what i told you, alright? you’re gonna go in, lean over the counter, talk up the guy at the front and pretend you forgot your money, yeah?” you nodded, repeating jj’s instructions to yourself as you also tried to remember his food order. “and don’t forget to bite your lip a little bit like we practiced, okay? don’t overthink it too much, you’re already the prettiest thing in this joint, just let your face and your tits do all the talking.” jj was quick to push you inside, a small gasp leaving your lips as you nearly lost your footing on the uneven floor tile of the old diner.

jj paced back and forth outside, occasionally glancing through the window to make sure everything was going as planned. in no time, he was smiling to himself as you walked out with two bags in your arms, your face heated with embarrassment as you sipped on a strawberry milkshake. “that’s my fucking girl, look at all of this!” he helped you out and took the bags full of food, quickly unwrapping a burger and taking a bite. “eugh— what the fuck.. y/n, i said no tomatoes!” he cursed under his breath, picking it out and throwing it over his shoulder.

“i couldn’t remember! i had a lot going on in my head, okay?!” jj waved you off, pressing a kiss to your temple before stealing a sip from your shake. “s’fine..” he winked, “this is dinner.” slipping on the spare t-shirt jj had hanging from around his neck, you two walked into the chateau, announcing for everyone to come and eat. john b, along with pope, cleo, and kie all looked at each other suspiciously, their gazes flickering between you and jj. “okay.. i know for a fact that y/n didn’t pay for all of this, and you have ten bucks in your pocket on a good day, so how did y’all—” jj laughed nervously, cutting pope off, “are you hungry or not?”

[storiesaplenty]

Miscellaneous Masterlist

Part 1

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Oral (m receiving) Cum swallowing. Reader is a bit naive due to a sheltered upbringing.

WC : 956

©️ storiesaplenty 2025: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

"Come on now love. No need to be shy. Go on." I said to her as I ran my fingers through her hair.

I could feel how nervous she was as she kneeled before me.

She bit her lip as she most likely contemplated how she even ended up in this position.

The moment she moved in, I was drawn to her.

The eldest daughter of religious man and wife, who kept their daughters on a short leash.

Never once I have seen them spend any time with someone that isn't a member of the family.

But one day, oh one day she was alone.

I saw her walking along her family's property line, as the sun as just set.

"Hello there neighbour." I called out in a friendly tone, making her jump as she was not expecting anyone all the way out here.

Before she could even respond, I could hear her father's annoying voice call out her name, telling her to come back home.

She gave me a soft smile, like she was apologizing for being rude, as she never even got to introduce herself to me, but I already knew her name.

I knew everything about her after watching her for weeks now.

"May I ask what your name is? My name is Remmick."

She looked back over her shoulder, and then back at me, quickly telling me her name.

"Aaa, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

Her eyes went wide at me complimenting her, then muttering about how she must leave.

I waved goodbye as she ran back to her home, fighting ever urge I had not to chase after her and make her mine, but I knew if I waited, I would have her eating out of the palm of my hand.

And I did wait.

I went back to her property line every night, and there she was, waiting for me.

Each night she told me about herself and her family.

I told her bits and pieces about me, which slowly gained her trust, but she was still very naive about the world, due to her overprotective parents.

The first time I kissed her, she gasped, pulling back.

"What is the matter darlin'?"

"My momma said that kissing a man who I am not married too is a sin."

"Now, if it is so sinful, why do I want to keep kissing you?" I asked before kissing her again, this time deepening the kiss.

I laid us down in the tall grass, my body leaning over top of hers as we made out.

I pulled back, knowing she needed air. Her eyes were closed as I pulled my head away.

"Now, we don't have to do that again, but I sure do want too." Her eyes slowly opened as she nodded her head in agreement.

Each night, I pushed the the boundary with her just a little bit until this very moment.

Where I have her on her knees, her lips swollen with kisses, her eyes glazed over as she looked up at me as I pulled my cock out of my pants.

Her hands gripping my thighs as she watched me, never missing a moment.

"Now, just take the tip in your mouth and softly suck. No remember, no teeth love." If I could breathe, I would most likely be holding in my breath as I watched her slowly lean in and do as I say.

The moment her sweet lips, wrapped around the tip of my cock, I let out a low groan, wanting nothing more than to push her head down and fuck her face, but that time will come.

"You're doing so well for me." I cooed as I patted her cheek gently.

She tried to smile around my cock.

"Go on now, take me down your throat until you can't anymore. Take your time."

She took a deep breath and took another inch in her mouth, her eyes on me the whole time, as mine were on her, not wanting to miss a moment of this.

She went until she gagged, pulling her head back so my cock was no longer in her mouth.

"That's okay love, we will work on that." She gave me a confused look as I urged her to continue what she was doing.

I kept my noises low as she sucked me off, not wanting to draw any attention to the two of us or this game will be over and I was so close to finishing.

"Now, I am going to cum, and you are going to swallow it all." I warned her, not wanting to hold back any longer.

I knew by her confused look on her face that she had no idea what I was talking about.

That was until the first rope of my cum hit the back of her throat.

She wanted to pull away, but I just held her head there, moaning her name over and over again.

"Shit darlin' you did so well for me." I told her as I pulled my cock from her mouth.

She wiped her mouth with the hem of her dress. "What was that?"

Poor little thing, she really is sheltered from the world, so I told her.

"But, but." I placed my finger on her lips, shushing her.

"Now did you like that?"

She nodded her head, yes.

"We can do it again or we can do something else." I could smell her. She was turned on, and probably had no idea she even was.

"What?" She asked.

"You shall see tomorrow love."

Tomorrow, she will be mine in more ways than one.

part 2

[vssail]

From: (...)

To: Jason Todd

Subject: Soo... you coming?

Yeah, yeah, I know what you want to answer me. "I don't like crowded places". You're lucky I'm a genius.

If we can't go to the cinema, we can celebrate Joe Wright's 2005 Pride and Prejudice aniversary at my place!

I got the movie on DVD. I know we could watch it directly on TV, but this way it feels more real, you know? With the 2005 vibe and everything. And I already bought like a lot, lot, LOT of popcorns. All flavors imaginable. So, you have to come now, unless you want me to die trying to eat all these popcorns by myself.

You better be at my door at seven, Todd.

(Please, come.)

(...)

From: Jason Todd

To: (...)

Subject: Re: Soo... you coming?

You're terrible. But sweet. Let's leave it at adorably terrible.

Give me five minutes to get there.

(You didn't have to do all that for me. But I appreciate it. Thank you.)

J

From: Jason Todd

To: (...)

Subject: New recipe

Alfred revealed to me the recipe of the brownies that you loved so much. I'm cooking them right now. If you get here quickly, you could be the tester.

And again, thank you for the other night. I had a great time. We should do it again. Chicken run turns 25 this year, if you need inspiration for the next movie.

J

P.S. Don't. Make. Jokes. About. The. Apron.

From: (...)

To: Jason Todd

Subject: Re: New recipe

[jason todd on a ripped batman apron.jpg]

Muehehehe

(...)

From: Jason Todd

To: (...)

Subject: Delete the pictures.

You have 30 minutes to delete them. Don't ask me what will happen if you don't.

J

From: (...)

To: Jason Todd

Subject: Mission Accomplished

Okay, okay, I deleted them. The only thing left of those pic is the one I printed and framed. I have it in a safe, so no one will be able to see it (unless they know my birthday).

Tho I must warn you someone may have hacked my phone before I got to delete them. I think so because an unknown number sent me a paypal payment and told me to get more pictures. Creepy.

Don't worry, I won't take more pictures. I am the only one that deserves to see that side of you ;)

(...)

P.S. You up for movie night tomorrow?

From: Jason Todd

To: (...)

Subject: Re: Mission Accomplished

I'm taking the food, there are some brownies left. I can make something else if you want. Maybe I can cook dinner before we watch the movie? Alf handed me another recipe, I could try it with you.

I'm taking an apron. Black. No pictures.

J

From: Jason Todd

To: Tim Drake

Subject: You're dead

Prepare your last words.

From: (...)

To: Jason Todd

Subject: Re: Re: Mission Accomplished

Awesome! I really love it when you go full Gordon Ramsey, like really, your cooking skills never fail to surprise me. Sometimes I think about kidnapping you so you cook for me everyday, but I back off when I remember you hide guns in the toaster.

Oooh I searched through my dad's old DVD's collection and I have a full list of films that we HAVE TO watch! Not gonna lie, the options could be better - but I want to keep the DVD thing. It's like our thing <3

[top best films to watch with jay - millenial dad edition.pdf]

We could do a Final destination marathon. I think another one is coming out this year so the timing is perfect!

(I know, no crowded rooms. I'll just get it somehow, don't worry.)

See you tomorrow, Todd :)

(...)

From: Tim Drake

To: (...)

Subject: Calm your dog

Yeah, I know, I'm sorry for hacking your phone. I was curious about who was Jason talking to through e-mails in this day and age. The picture was there and I couldn't let it go, yk? Now, I would appreciate if you talked with him to calm him down. I'm afraid his threat may not be as light as I thought it was.

Please, be quick. I think I'm hearing things in my appartment.

T. D.

[silly-moth-123]

Before you can even ask, they start explaining. "Well, it's just because- The way you've been speaking lately.... It sounds so scripted. You've always been so expressive and fun, but your voice is so... monotone."

You glance uncomfortably at the ground. You broke character, and now they noticed.

They nudge your arm, an encouraging smile plastered across their face. "It's okay, though! Don't worry, I'll help you."

Your head spins, your heart races. You clench your fists and dig your fingernails into your palms.

"...Hello? Are you there?" They're waving their hand in front of your face playfully.

"Do you really think I'd be acting this strange if it was just a time loop?"

They flinch away, surprised by your sudden speech. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, my whole life has always felt like a time loop, even before! My days are dull and repetitive, and everything is just an item on a to-do list. Nothing feels real..." You sigh, fidgeting with the necklace you're wearing. A simple clock pendant hanging from a long chain, slightly rusted over. "I made this necklace myself. It... Well, it's why I'm in this loop."

Your friend quirks an eyebrow. "You mean you..."

"Yeah." Your grip tightens on the clock pendant. "I did this on purpose."

"But..." They back away from you a bit, a sad, betrayed look on their face. "But why? Why would you ever choose that..."

"Look, I- I just wanted a change!"

"So you trapped yourself in a cycle of never changing??!"

You tug at the necklace, feeling the chain dig into the back of your neck. "At least now I've memorized the script. The to-do list isn't stressful anymore, I know how to handle it, and- And this is the best decision I've ever made in my entire-"

You were pulling too hard.

The necklace breaks.

Shattered metal lays in your hands. Chain links are scattered across the ground. In your palm, the clock hands lay, no longer moving.

"No, no, no no no no no this can't be happening-"

The world spins around you. You're stuck now, time will move forward again, your one way of coping is gone now and-

You feel a firm grip on your shoulder. "Hey. Calm down." Their face is stern, but caring. "It's gonna be okay now."

"No, no no no you don't understand-"

"I... I might not have gone through a time loop, yeah. But..." They glance at you sympathetically. "I know what it's like to feel empty and monotonous. But I've gotten a lot better now! The feeling doesn't ever fully go away, but it can become manageable, if you get help."

"B-but I didn't need help, I found my own solution, and- And it worked perfectly fine, didn't it?!"

They look pointedly at the broken clock in your hands. "I wouldn't consider anything that just happened 'perfectly fine.'"

"But-"

"Look, can you at least let me try to help you? Even just to be here for you. You can talk to me, or to someone else, just as long as you stop keeping all this to yourself."

"I-" You stop yourself from arguing. There's no point in it anyways. You can't just rewind and fix your mistakes, so...

You sigh. "Okay."

You drop the shattered clock on the ground, leaving it behind you as you and your friend walk away.

"You're stuck in some sort of time loop, aren't you," your friend said nonchalantly before taking a bite of their burger. You immediately wonder how they knew...

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 with high maintenance s/o

A/N: Lost that ask in the void probably but this was requested by an anon 😭

Seungcheol: He’s high-key into it. He’ll really buy you five perfumes for one outfit because he knows how you love to have options. Carries your bag, memorizes your skincare steps, and pre-orders your faves before you even ask. The man lives to spoil you.

Jeonghan: Master manipulator meets diva energy; a match made in heaven. You want all the attention? He’ll give it, but he expects it back. He’s playful about it, teasing, “You’re so high-maintenance, how do I even keep up?” But he still loves being your only person. Lovesssss to buy you random things and loves how you take care of yourself.

Joshua: Smiles through it but definitely needs a manual at first lol. He adjusts quickly though. You want to look fancy for brunch? He’s coordinating his outfit. You’re picky about your drinks? He’ll memorize your order. If it makes you happy, he’s down, becaussseeeeeee, you’re his priority. He loves it that you know what you deserve and don't settle for anything less.

Jun: He actually finds you fascinating and loves you for iy. You take two hours to get ready, you'll find him watching you get ready. He’s supportive, maybe even starts copying you lmao. You want to look like royalty? Let me help you pick your crown; prime example of this behaviour.

Hoshi: In the beginning of the relationship, he was very confused but committed. “Wait… we’re late because your lashes weren’t symmetrical?” He’s learning on the job but he tries so hard. Gets overly proud when he finally gets your coffee right. Always enthusiastic: “You look like a queen!!” his queen.

Wonwoo: Ykw? Chill king with the drama [slaying] queen 💅🏻 Your energy overwhelms him a bit, but he secretly likes that you bring noise and color into his monotonous world. He’ll listen patiently to you rant about hair serum vs oil like it’s life-or-death. Buys you gifts with zero complaint [and he actually wants to buy you things you like].

Woozi: Internal screaming intensifies. You’re the opposite of his minimalist lifestyle, but he adapts because he cares. “Why do you need thirty throw pillows?” But he’ll fluff them anyway. He’ll get grumpy sometimes, but his love language is lowkey acts of service. Expect him to custom-make you a personalized closet system just because he can 🤷🏻‍♀️

Dokyeom: Thinks it’s adorable, will hype you up so much. “You’re so picky about everything… that’s so cute!!” He loves and so into pampering you and making you happy. Carries your shopping bags, takes outfit pics from every angle, and sings to you while you do your 10-step routine.

Mingyu: He’ll do your skincare with you. He’s got the patience for your outfits, the taste for your aesthetic, and he lives to treat you like royalty. “You want another lip gloss? Cool, let’s get six.” He’s your chauffeur, chef, stylist, and biggest fan. He's a loser for you fr, mark my words.

Minghao: Absolutely supports it—as long as it’s within lines. He doesn’t mind your preferences, but if it’s for show or insecurity, he’ll call it out. “If this makes you happy, I’ll support it. But don’t feel like you have to be perfect for anyone, not even me.” Will treat you with respect and spoil you in his refined, minimalist way.

Seungkwan: Overwhelmed, but will do it all anyway. You want to go to three stores for the right nail polish shade? “I—okay, let me grab my bag.” Complains like a sitcom husband, but deep down he loves being needed. Will absolutely turn into your glam team. “You want curls or waves today, baby??”

Vernon: Baffled, blinks a lot, He’s like, “You need four lip oils? What do they even do?” But he’s chill. He won’t always understand the need, but he’ll support you. Might even help you compare filters for selfies. “You like the third one? Cool, post it.”

Dino: You confuse the hell out of him at first, but he adapts. This man is willing to learn. You want luxury, so he’s reading reviews. You like constant attention? He’s there. High-maintenance doesn’t scare him, instead, it motivates him. If that’s what you need, he'll figure it out.

[muwapsturniolo]

FreshLove For The Fit 2 (rewrite) ˚.🎀༘⋆ C. Sturniolo

"But I do have a proposition for you."

⟢ nothing crazy tbh. mention of boners, nipple piercings and hate from fans.

divider cred @bernardsbendystraws

He fucked up, He fucked up bad.

It only took fans three days to notice his following had gone up on Instagram, the parasocial people looking through the list and trying to see who the new person is. It didn't take long for them to find the new account, immediately blasting it on all socials.

"Chris following a cam girl who wears Fresh Love? Oh, he's a freak!

"No because she's so smart! Let me put on some Fresh Love and get to work!"

Those were just a few of the things that were said in so many words. However, it seemed like on her end, all she was receiving was hate. He went through her comments on Instagram and Twitter; it was brutal, nasty, even a bit scary.

He began to feel bad; after all, this was his fault. He knew how some of his fans were; he knew how much they wanted to 'protect him'. He should have been more careful and avoided following her on Instagram.

He wants to DM her and profusely apologize for any harm he may have caused, but something was holding him back. So instead of messaging her and apologizing, he simply unfollowed her on the app, hoping that would calm everything down.

However, when he got a dm from her on his unrecognizable Twitter account, he knew things were taking a turn.

Your fans are getting a bit crazy in my comments and dm's. You need to tell them to leave me the fuck alone.

Chris's heart drops at the DM, his mouth running dry. There were multiple thoughts running through his head. How did she know this account was his? Would she expose him?

He licks his lips and takes a deep breath before responding, his hands shaky as he types out a message.

I feel like complete shit, i'm so sorry for all of this. Seriously. I should have been more careful with what I was doing.

lmao, i'm just playing with you. I really don't give af about what they are saying. They're just mad you jerked your shit to me, if anything i'm winning in life.

He exhales and closes his eyes reading that she wasn't actually upset with what was currently going on.

Fuck, you had me scared for a second. I've been freaking out about this shit all day. I'm glad you are handling this well though.

I can handle myself very well, thank you very much.

Chris bites his lip as his fingers hesitate over the keyboard, a war raging inside his mind as he debates sending his next response. Eventually he says fuck it, and sends it.

I like the way you handle yourself.

He waits anxiously for a response, worried that he may have overstepped a boundary.

So I take it you like my content then?

Love it actually, was it not obvious?

Chris knew this conversation was taking a turn, and he was curious yet excited to see how far it would go. He stands up from the couch and quickly makes his way to his bedroom, softly closing the door and locking it.

Tell me what you love about it then, I'm curious.

Chris flops down on to his bed, his dick sturring as he thinks about the content he has consumed from her, and what aspects of it he loved.

I think the most obvious thing would be you wearing my brand. That's what made me notice you. I also love the way you sound, the way you try to hold your moans in when you're close, only to let them out in a way that makes my head spin. Don't get me started on your thighs, I could spend all day between them if you let me.

Both adults were staring at their phones with heavy breaths, their hearts beating rapidly in their chests.

Before she could respond to him, Chris sent another message.

What would you say if I wanted you to call me?

I'd tell you to check my prices.

Chris immediately goes to her account, looking at her pinned post and analyzing the prices. He loads up his Cash App and sends her two hundred dollars, leaving a message saying "ft, wear freshlove" with his phone number attached.

A few minutes later, his phone begins to ring, his thumb quickly hitting the accept button.

It takes a second for both of their screens to load, but when it does, they both suck in a harsh breath.

They looked good.

Chris was wearing a pink hoodie that was making her clench her thighs. It was her favorite color, and she loved seeing it on men. His eyes were low as he remained tired, a toothpick in his mouth, and a silver chain adorning his neck.

She was, in fact, wearing Fresh Love, her pink shirt to be exact. He could tell it was a size too small by the way it hugged her chest, her nipples adorned by piercings peeking through the material.

"Hi," she says softly, her soft voice shocking Chris. He didn't know what he was expecting, but he wasn't expecting his dick to jump at the sound of her voice.

"Hey," Chris responds, his eyes darting all over her body. She smirks softly and lies down on her stomach, kicking her feet up as she begins to speak once again.

"So what did you want to call me for?" Chris finds himself suddenly being shy. How was he supposed to tell her he wanted to call her in hopes she would grab her pink dildo and get off for him and with him? It was so easy to be bold behind a screen, but now that he's technically face to face with her, it's different.

"I don't know..."

"Mmm, I think you do know, you're just too scared to admit it." she taunts, a smirk on her face as she teasingly tilts her head.

Chris doesn't like it.

"I'm not scared to admit anything. I just figured you wouldn't appreciate me demanding you grab that sparkly pink dildo and fuck yourself for me. I was raised to be a gentleman after all." His cocky demanor comes back full throttle, a smirk on his face as he takes the toothpick from his mouth. Despite her brown skin, he could tell she was blushing, the way her eyes looked away from the screen and she bit her lip was a dead giveaway.

"Don't act all shy, you post yourself doing the same things I would be requesting....but I'm not going to have you do that. Not yet at least. I want to get to know you first."

He could see the surprise in her eyes. He figured this was something new to her. She was a cam girl, an OnlyFans girl, she was used to men and possibly women using her, demanding things from her, degrading her.

Chris wasn't really that different; he wanted the same things and was objectifying her the same way as others, but there was something about her that was pulling him in and had him wanting this to be something more than transactional.

The call continues with both chatter and laughter, the two adults getting to know each other better for hours on end. The conversation jumped from topic to topic, jokes being dropped and stories being told.

Suddenly, she decides to ask a question that's been bothering her since the start of the call.

"So why did you send me two hundred when my FaceTime price is only one hundred and thirty?"

"Because I wanted to."

His quick and nonchalant response was surprising and confusing to the girl. She squints as she looks at him through the screen, "But you didn't have to, especially if we didn't even do anything sexual." A devious smirk makes its way across Chris's face.

"Well, I did request that you wear Fresh Love, I think that deserved an extra few dollars....But I do have a proposition for you."

[bored-trans-orchidsexual]

Funnily enough, I ALSO hate DnD beyond and have since day 1, but for completely different reasons and overall stand differently on this.

"but it's useful to remember my abilities and spells" Yes, it is... and in no way uniquely. It's more descriptive than an official character sheet, but it has ZERO advantage over a blank sheet of paper or even a notes app, except that the words are all there for you without having to copy anything. and if the goal is to remember... copying things down is a GREAT way to build memory, it's literally a popular exercise for children to study. "there's so much text I can't keep track of it all" It's literally ... the same amount of information. On paper, on an official sheet, on dnd beyond... the app is not some TARDIS that makes the many words, less words. either you have all the info and have to keep track of it or it has less info and we're back to point #1. "but how will my DM see my sheets and keep track of my damage" literally don't fucking worry about it. If you're such a novice to DnD you don't understand how DMs operate, you do not need to worry about it, and if you are in the know... for any DM who *wants* to track your sheets and damage they already are. For my playgroup as the DM I'm practically the only one actually working with the sheets we use, offering reminders and tracking HP, spell slots, ect. Yes the other players are a well but I keep track for myself because I'm RUNNING THE GAME and it's a good idea to be aware of how it's going, it's like the HUD gages of DMing. If a player thinks they have more (or less) HP or spell slots or something, if I voice it's different they don't even question it because they play with me and know I'm tracking every spell, point of damage, ect and will even remind them when they have something situationally useful. Maybe you don't play that way but whatever your way of play, your DM (unless they entirely rely on dnD beyond) will have thier own methods of tracking everything. we have screens for a reason. and my main issue with DnD beyond? it's so RESTRICTIVE. What's stopping me from adding additional skills to be proficient with in DnD? for everything else, *nothing* I can write them in. for dnD Beyond? BZZT this engine wasn't designed to be changed that way. You want to refresh a single feature with a custom item or change how a class feature works in your games? Sorry, that's not how you play dnd, according to this app. yo restore through long resting or spells only, and features are thier official versions, or nothing. For how popular homebrew classes are I'm shocked DnD Beyond was as popular as it was, I literally use word documents I make and edit myself for each player and it works so much better because you aren't arbitrarily limited.

I may not be openly vocal about it but I am a certified dndbeyond hater. Have been since day one. Log the fuck off, cancel your account, and stop paying hasbro rent on your imagination. I'm serious.

"OH but it's so useful to help remember all my character abilities and spells"

No it's not. You've only been tricked into thinking it's easy because you're a fucking Ipad baby who's let your brain be sandpapered smooth by corprorate UI design. The moment the wifi cuts out or your app fails to load you're going to forget how to play your character and you're going to eat up precious session time looking it up on your phone.

"but there's so much text, I could never keep track of it all!"

PAPER, motherfucker. Read your abilities and either transcribe them into a word doc to print out or grab a notebook from the dollarstore. Writing them out this way will not only keep them on hand but help you learn how they work in the first place. Doodle in the margins, apply cute stickers, and spill things on them like god intended.

"But how will my DM be able to see my stats and track my damage?"

Why the fuck does your DM need to manage your character sheet? That's your job. Keeping track of your abilities and doing minor math is part of the fun of the game, and the moment you let a computer do the gruntwork you've put up another barrier between you and the character you've created.

Don't even get me started on people who pay for digital dice skins when real dice are right there. Real life illustration of Plato's cave.

[tan1shere]

Fuck Me Now

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: I JUST HAD AN URGE 😈

Summary: you were growing bored as she games.

Warnings: smut, gamer billie, cockwarming, super short sorry my loves !

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu @dollarbils @sweetcherriexs @bilsdillldough @mystiquemm

2:35 am.

Thats what the clock said as you turn over in the warm bed. You go to turn back over noticing she still wasn't there. She had been gaming for hours. "Bills." You faintly call out, voice groggy from having just woken up. "Hmm? Did I wake you?" She asks, gaze fixated on the bright screen infrong of her. You let out a groany whine. The red light dim, the only source in the dark room. Truth be told you had wanted her all day. In an innocent and not so innocent way. "Babyy." You drag out. "Come to bed, pleasee." She took a second to respond. "Won't be long my love." You huff to yourself, getting up and going over to her. "You've been playing all day bub." She never takes her eyes off of it. This just makes your need grow.

Her hands filled with rings. Veins popping especially as she holds the mouse, clicking every so often. The metal of her rings clashing with the mouse too. Your eyes dart to the way she was sitting. Slouched in her gaming chair. A red velvet blanket draped over her lap. She brings her other hand up to her face, touching her lips slightly. You were drawn to everything. It's no surprise you were ovulating after all. Which you were going to talk to her about tonight, but that didn't happen. You move into her sight more. "Miss you." Your lips pouty. Tired even if you had gotten heaps of sleep. Her eyes finally meet yours.

"Aww baby." It sounded a little fake but also not. "You miss me huh?" You nod as she asks that. An idea popping into her mind. "Why don't you have a seat then." You look at her as she moves the blanket, your eyes meet the one thing you were craving. When did she put it on. Had she planned this the whole day. Was she that evil enough to tease you for hours on end. By not touching you or giving you any attention. You look at her, instantly letting your shorts and underwear drop. Her big t-shirts covering your body. You position yourself over her lap, feeling her move the strap closer to you. Closer to where you needed it. "Mm please." You breathe near her ear.

"Shh, sh sh." She then quietly says. Moving it a bit deeper inside you. "Sit." She softly orders. You gladly obey, letting it fill you up. "Good girl." You gasp into her neck at feeling it fully in you, beginning to move your hips. Having felt neglected all day. "Uh uh uh." She stills your hips. "Just keep me warm yeah angel?" You bite your lip. She can't be teasing you more. There was no way. You whine into the crook of her neck. "Be good baby, know you can." Her hands return to her previous events. Clicking and more clicking. You go to sit up blocking her view. "Baby." She warns. Her voice was sexy, lust dripping from the simple name. "Come on now." Your eyes turn pleading. "Please Bills. I need you so bad, so so bad." She stares at you for a second. Your breathy voice going straight through her.

Her eyes rake over your features, your body covered by her shirt. You drove her just as crazy. "You make it hard for me babygirl." You grab her face. "Fuck me now, please. I've been needy for you all day, need to feel you deep. Fucking me, slow but forcefully. I need it more than anything." You blab, the neediness seeping out of you. She noticed it. That fire in your eyes, she knows your ovulating. Does she keep the teasing going. Or give you what you so desperately crave. It was tempting but your next move sends her crazy. Your body leans forward, going to her ear again as you move just slightly on the strap. Her eyebrows lift then knit together when she suddenly hears you moan.

"Please mommy." Now shes the feral one. She picks you up, getting you to wrap your legs around her waist as she plops you on the bed. She wasted zero time into moving inside you. She all of a sudden needed this just as much. "God you drive me mental, that fucking voice. Your moans." You gasp again as she comes down to kiss you. Swallowing the escaping moan. Savoring it. Her thrusts are slow just like you asked. But her power was firm, thrusting just perfectly. She knew exactly what she was doing and it just turned you on more. The fact she knows your body better than you might do. "Pretty girl missed me today didn't she?" You frantically nod. "Yes!" Your voice was still breathy, trying to catch it as she keeps going.

Your mind spins, runs slow as her thrusts speed up just a bit. "D-deeper please." You stutter out. And your wish is her command. Granting it by fucking you more, sliding it in further. Your eyes roll back as she hits just the right spots. "Fuck! Billie oh my god-" You managed to get out. Moans spilling from your bitten lips. "Go on, you deserve it sweetheart. More than anything." And just like that you did. Making a mess of the dildo attached to her. Safe to say you would truly be sleeping like an angel tonight.

[shujichii]

he hadn't been the same ever since you made him try a period cramp simulator a month ago.

it all unfolded during one ordinary morning— until it ended up being anything but ordinary— when you presented the device to him like an ancient relic uncovered from the deepest depths of the earth, all while saying something along the lines of, “it's a social experiment. a precious opportunity to strengthen our bond and explore the art of empathy."

him, being the ever-dutiful husband, naturally found himself agreeing to try it.

long story short, it humbled him deeply.

you thought he was already attentive during your cycle. which, to be truthful, he was. but now? you realised that you were wrong. very, very wrong.

and now, you were being greeted by your husband's face in the wee hours of the morning through one cracked eye, the mattress dipping with his weight as he stared at you with concern etched into his features.

then came the first inquiry.

“good morning, sweetheart. are you in pain?”

you blinked, groggily sitting up, an ache beginning to form in the deep depths of your system. “oh… i guess so?”

affirming that you were indeed going through that time of the month—courtesy of him having tracked your period— he gave you a solemn nod before standing up, disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing with a trey in hand.

you squinted. a fully prepared breakfast that looked too beautiful to consume. a heating pad. tea. water. chocolates. painkillers. and… a checklist.

you took a peek.

heating pad prepared. favorite blanket and pillows fluffed up. comfort snacks placed in her favorite bowl within reach. romance dramas queued. sanitary products restocked. chores cleared.

your gaze darted between him and the trey, your mouth closing and opening as your brain scrambled to process the situation.

“here, use this,” he moved forward, fluffing up the pillow you were sleeping on from behind before gently nudging you back, securing the heating pad against your stomach. “there.”

you didn't know which one to do first. shed a few sparkly tears of gratitude or laugh and lung forward and drown him in kisses.

“y-you didn't have to do all that—”

“i wanted to. i must. you can't be saying outrageous things like that.”

he didn't allow you to lift a single finger throughout the day. checked in from time to time to make sure you were okay, brought you whatever you asked for, gave you a message even though you didn't ask for it, dropped everything to cook for you, and came in with tissues, perfectly brewed tea with your exact preferences, vitamins and an even fluffier blanket when you sneezed once. at some point, he asked if you would like him to carry you around the house—even the bathroom, by the way— because “why waste your energy when I'm here?”

by evening, you were lounging like the queen you are, surrounded by all the things needed to make your period session bearable and one prepared-and ready-to pamper-to-the-max husband.

you paused the drama you were watching, yanking him down towards you from where you were curled up on the couch, his warmth immediately wrapping around you.

his hand instinctively found your waist, the other braced beside your hip. “hey— what's up?”

you grinned, lifting yourself just a little to place a featherlight kiss against his jaw. “baby, thank you. i'm fine now. why don't you relax with me?”

he hesitated for a moment, although his hands betrayed him by tightening around your waist just a fraction.

“are you sure? what if—”

“no buts. i demand cuddles. right now.”

he chuckled, the sound coming out breathier than intended as he settled down beside you before pulling you on top of him, securing you against his chest, his fingers already gently combing through your hair. you sighed contently, nuzzling deeper, all while his heart nearly gave out at the gesture.

after a moment, he spoke.

“if you ever need anything, just tell me,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“then stay here. with me.”

you didn't have to repeat that. and you never had to doubt the royalty treatment coming up every month. although he'd still make sure to treat you like a queen outside of that month, too.

♡ nanami kento, geto suguru, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, itadori yuuji, zayne, caleb, sylus, ishida uryuu, kuchiki byakuya, ishida ryuken, brant, xiangli yao, jiyan, rengoku kyojuro, tomioka giyuu, himejima gyomei, sung jinwoo, wriothesley, armin arlert, reiner braun, barbatos, simeon, satan, your favorite.

[midnightloversmusic]

Hey baby! Can I request something where (sub) james potter and reader are best friends and one day he confesses to her that he wants to know what sex feels like (cause hes a virgin lol) and she’s like “i can… show you?” 🙏🏻🙏🏻😣😣 imagine him all subby fucked out not being able to handle how her pussy feels so much better than his hands

omg thisssssss!!!!! sub James is literally all I think about. I Hope you like ittt!

James Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT

1.8k words

--------

It's a typical Saturday night. James had texted you earlier asking if he could come over; apparently there was a new movie he wanted to see. Sirius had already seen it and Remus was too much of a movie critic so that left you as James' movie companion tonight. 

You and James’ friendship was comfortable. You’d known him since you were kids and you both knew almost everything about each other. Almost. James was a person who thrived on physical touch, so that meant holding hands in public, spooning while taking naps together, and cuddling while watching movies. As you were right now. 

The movie James had picked was action packed and not typically what you’d put on, but you weren't upset about it. You were just happy to spend time with him. He had gone to visit his parents the week prior, and although you had other friends to hang out with while he was away, nothing compared to the complete comfort and ease you felt with him. You two had a rhythm, you worked around each other seamlessly, you don’t even need to think when he's around. 

As the movie progressed through fight scenes and dramatic love confessions it eventually blurred into messy kisses and a very steamy sex scene that you should probably feel awkward watching while laying on top of your best friend–but it's never awkward with James. 

You are busy watching the movie, not worrying about the boy beneath you until you hear a sharp inhalation of breath.

You scrunch your eyebrows and tear your vision away from the screen where the two main characters are going at it on their kitchen counter.

“James?” you question

All you get is a strained “mhm?” in response

“... are you alright?”

You watch him take a deep breath. You even see a slight blush cover his cheeks. Strange.

“I just-” he stops himself and looks back at the TV for a moment,

“I just wish I knew what sex feels like.” he murmurs quietly

You nearly choke on your own spit. You don’t mean to laugh at him, you really really don't. The giggles escape you involuntarily. 

“James, what are you talking about?”

He has to be messing with you, it's the only explanation your slightly dumbstruck mind can come up with. There is just no way your hot, muscley, kind, stunning bestfriend is a virgin. There's absolutely no way that's true. 

But, you think back on all the times you have discussed sex with James. You both tell eachother everything, so why can't you come up with a single memory of him talking about his sex life? You have told him about yours plenty of times. You have told him about the guys that weren't able to make you cum, he’d made fun of them profusely. You told him about the guys that did make you cum, you told him about the hot shower sex you had, about a one night stand that submitted to you so well you swore it was the best sex of your life, you seriously didn't shut up about that lay, and yet throughout all of these stories James just nodded along. He didn’t add to your stories, he never added his own input or told a story of his own.

Your realization must show on your face because James sinks a little further into the couch and his face flushes.

“No, no, no. No. James, baby it's okay!” you nervously laugh

“God, I'm so sorry. I really didn’t mean to laugh it's just-” you stop yourself and take a deep breath,

“You're just you. You know?” “I Mean James you're hot, I mean like ridiculously hot, and jacked and I just didn't expect you to be a virgin that's all!” 

After you finish your rambling James seems to lighten up a bit,

“You think I'm hot sweetheart?” he wiggles his brows at you

You roll your eyes at him and push at his chest. Even through his teasing you think back to what he said. I wish I knew what sex feels like. He sounded so vulnerable when he said it and god, you just wanted to give this man whatever he wanted. 

Your friendship was so open, it wouldn’t be weird. You knew each other inside and out. He knows you’d take care of him and you know that he’d take care of you so, why not? You’d be willing if he was down.

“James” you say with a tone suddenly serious.

You shifted so that your knees were straddling either side of his waist and looked down at him. Suddenly you felt nervous. That feeling was quickly shaken from your mind as James reached out for your hand. He took it in his and laced his fingers with yours. 

“I-, I can…show you?” What sex is like I mean. If you want to of course! You don't have to-”

James cuts of your rambling with a simple “Please”

When you look back down at him his eyes are glossed over. And fuck. You wanted to give him everything. 

You lean down and hover your lips just above his, 

“Is this okay baby?”

“More than okay, please please please pl-”

You cut off james’ begging with a kiss. It's firm, a little sloppy, but so so so good. You experiment by grinding your hips down into his and he whimpers into your mouth.

You can feel his hard cock through his trousers and it makes you go slightly feral. You pull away from the kiss, it’s filthy, and a string of spit connects both of your mouths. You're both panting, James looks undone and you just started.

“Lets go to my bed okay? You think you can do that for me?”

He lets out a grunt, but nods nonetheless. You get up off of his lap and he whines at the loss of contact. He throws his legs off the side of the couch and begins to stand as you reach for the remote to turn off the now forgotten movie. 

You start moving toward the bedroom, James follows. When you arrive you pull James down by the roots of his hair and whisper into his mouth,

“Good boy, James”

James is surprised he doesn’t come on the spot, he lets out a sinful moan just as your lips reconnect. 

You walk him backwards toward the bed and push him down. He scoots up closer to the headboard and your hands come to his jeans. You start to unbutton them as he pulls his shirt over his head. You ogle him with no shame. After you've pulled his jeans and boxers off of his legs you let your hand roam. They move over his chest, watching as his back arches as you brush against his sensitive nipples, you run them over the ridges of his abs and move down. You narrowly avoid his cock deciding you want to tease his thighs instead.

He whines and squirms on the bed as you run your hands over his thighs, leaning down to bite and nip at them. He begs you for more. You don't think you have ever heard a prettier sound.

Eventually you decide to have mercy. You crawl up his body to give him a kiss. You look into his watery eyes as you coo

“Aw James youre looking so fucked out and I havent even touched your pretty cock yet” You fake a pout

“Please, please y/n! I need you to touch me” he pushes his hips up, looking for friction, but you lift up before he can get any.

“Oh I know love, I've been a little mean havent I? My good boy deserves to be touched isn’t that right Jamie?”

“Yes! Yes ill be so good I promise, just touch me!”

You don’t even wait for him to finish before wrapping your hand around his cock. Hes big. Again making you question just how in the hell your sweet boy is a virgin.

“So big Jamie, so pretty” you whisper as you begin to move your hand up and down in painstakingly slow strokes

He whines in the pillow where he buries his head. His hips lift to meet your hands movement and as you move to rub your thumb over his leaking tip he shouts,

“‘M going to cum! Stop! I need to be inside you. I don't want to cum yet please!”

You lift your hand off immediately, and although he asked you to stop, he sobs into his pillow and releases a frustrated moan. 

“It's okay Jamie, you're doing so well for me. You want to be inside me?”

“Yes!” he sobbed out

You strip off the remainder of your clothes and settle on top of him. He looks up at you with his teary eyes and grabs your waist. You reach behind you and pull his cock to your folds. You run his tip through your wetness, teasing him. He's already moaning and shaking from the minimal stimulation.

“Please!”

With his request you sink down on him. The sound he makes is utterly indecent. Your sounds mix together as you adjust to his length. You haven't even started to move yet but his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s chanting don’t cum dont cum dont cum to himself over and over again. You let out a slightly evil giggle as you rotate your hips and begin to move up and down on his cock. 

He lets out a strangled moan and gasps. 

“Shit! Fuck fuck fuck.” he lifts his head off the pillow to get a better look at where your bodies meet but had to throw it back against his pillow in a few second.

He is completely overwhelmed and filled by the sensation of your heat wrapped around him. It's better than anything he's ever felt before. His hand could never live up to this and he doesn't know how he'll ever go without this again.

He tries to last, he really really tries, but it's all too much and he barely has the mind to tell you,

“Cuming- I’m cumming fuck”

“Inside me” You pant out.

And that's all it takes. He cums with a strangled cry. You think he has never looked better. He looks completely and utterly debauched. His hair, usually unruly, is somehow even more of a mess, his face is scrunched up from pleasure, and he's covered in love bites. 

You slow your hips movements and rub your hands soothingly down his sides.

“How was that baby? Did it live up to your expectations?”

He looks up at you with a look full of admiration

“Live up to my expectations? Honey, you took my expectations and knocked them out of the park. That was the best thing I've ever felt. Ever.

You let out a giggle and lean down to give him a quick kiss. When you pull away he's frowning

“Oh god, what now pretty boy?”

“You didn't get to cum.” He states,

“I need to make you cum, it's not fair-”

You stop his ramblings 

“How about we save that for next time, yeah? I'm okay, I'm just happy I got to make you feel good. Lets get cleaned up, okay?

“Next time?” he questions,

“Next time.”

[womanofwords]

Frozen Heart (Part 6)

TW: hospitals, descriptions of injuries.

Jason was the next to visit you, striding in all businesslike. How cute.

"Y/N, I need to know everything that happened," he said, taking a seat near your bed. "I need the names of the people that beat you, and the names of everyone that ever even looked at you the wrong way. It's important. I need to know."

You stared at him with confusion and disgust, like he was a dog turd that peeled itself off the back of your shoe and started telling you its life story. "What?" you croaked.

"I want to know about you and your life. Let's start with school. Who do you hang out with? What do other kids call you? When did all this bullying start?"

You rolled your eyes. What a poser. He was so invested after the all-important thing had happened. "Why are you asking me this?" you asked.

"Because . . . it's . . . important," Jason said, talking slowly as if you were really stupid, a little kid, or a really stupid little kid.

"Jason, I don't have brain damage. I have multiple broken bones, cracked ribs, suffered from hypothermia, and there was some internal bleeding, but no brain damage." Every injury you listed made your hardened big brother jump.

"Oh." Jason looked sheepish now, looking down at his combat boots.

Time to really twist the knife. "And you're wrong. It's not important, what just happened to me. It's trivial compared to the suffering you've gone through and see other people go through all the time. This is the mildly unlucky story of a kid who got whatever they wanted except school popularity. I live a good life, except for this part, of course." You pointed at the door. "You don't need to be here. You can leave my room and find a room with someone that is actually suffering. That won't be difficult; it is a hospital, after all."

Jason slunk out of your room, wanting to die. You didn't believe you were important to him, to anybody. What a heartbreaking revelation. He'd written you off as a spoiled brat with no issues, and he'd openly wished that you'd get some real problems to humble you a little and just shut up a little. And now you had lots of real problems and weren't talking to him at all, just when he really wanted you to.

Talk about being careful what you wished for.

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Taglist: @tinybrie, @bunniotomia, @kittzu, @justwannabecat, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @vanessa-boo, @jscrawls, @sirenetheblogger.

[robinvomit]

⚠︎  carry me : damian.

⋆˙⟡ "let it take.. i want it to take."

⋆˙⟡ request: my damian with a breeding kink got a lot of attention. ↦ kalico note: once again; please just follow my rules of interaction. i'm not getting blamed for your desensitization. ( this is beta'd by four people TT. ) ↦ tw; breeding kink. reference to pregnancy. fem reader.

her legs were around his hips, ankles locked at the small of his back and he was already so deep inside her it felt like breathing had become secondary. her thoughts consumed only by the stretch and weight of him. damian's hands gripped her thighs, thumbs pressing into soft skin like he needed her there. anchored. open. his.

"fuck," he hissed, jaw tight as his forehead dropped to her shoulder. "you were made for this.. for me."

she gasped, hips lifting instinctively to meet him, and his breath caught.

"damian-"

"i'm not pulling out." it came out rough, pulled from a place he refused to acknowledge outside of the bedroom. "y'know that, right? i can't-"

"don't," she breathed. "don't you dare-"

his rhythm stuttered, then deepened, slower now and more deliberate. like he was moving with a very specific purpose. with intent. like he was making sure she'd feel him days from now.

"you want that?" he mumbled, voiced between soft breaths. "want me to come inside you? fill you up?"

"yes," she whispered, broken and urgent. "please, damian, fuck-"

his mouth found her throat, teeth scraping over her pulse and sucking marks into the skin.

"you'll take it," he muttered against her skin. "everything i give you."

she cried out beneath him and his control slipped. he drove into her harder, chasing the edge but still holding back just enough to feel her. every squeeze, every tremble. every inch of her pussy wrapped around him like it belonged to him and him alone.

"you don't know what you're asking for," he groaned, hips snapping harder now, voice dropping to something close to feral. the words that followed were filth, pressed close to her ear, the type of things he'd never say in any other situation; "you want me to fill this pretty pussy? fuck it nice and deep into you? make you carry me for days?"

a full body shudder rolled through her, walls fluttering as she arched up to him with nothing but a whimper. words caught in her throat and thoughts becoming fuzzy.

he choked on a moan and dropped his head to her shoulder once more. "you like being bred like this, don't you?" he barely managed to get out. "claimed, used, filled.. and fuck, you love every second of it-"

he buried himself deep following the words, and with a final thrust, he came with a sound that tore from his throat like it cost him something. his whole body shuddered above her, muscles tight as he spilled into her, keeping himself there, like emptying into her wasn't enough.

"mine," he whispered hoarsely. "you're fucking mine."

he stayed inside her, chest heaving, face pressed against her neck like he couldn't bear to lift his head just yet. his arms were slid to wrap tight around her waist, holding her there, flushed and trembling beneath him, her pussy twitching around his cock like she was trying to keep every drop.

he began whispering; not to her face. not to be heard clearly. just low, into her skin like confession.

"don't let it go," he breathed. "keep it. let it take. i want it to take."

one hand slid from it's hold, palm splaying over the low part of her stomach, as if he could will it into her body. "i want to see you swollen with me. full. glowing. mine."

his voice cracked on that last word. he pressed a kiss to her neck, then another, slower. maybe an apology, maybe worship.

"you don't know what it would do to me," he mumbled. "watching you carry what we made. knowing you feel me with every step. knowing you're not just mine now.. but for every fucking moment that comes next."

he shifted just slightly, grinding deeper like he didn't want a single drop to escape. like he wanted to fuck it into her again, slower this time, just to make sure. all she did was gasp and whimper in response.

"i should do it again," he muttered, half-gone, lost in thought of breeding her. "i should fuck you again. fill you again. just to be certain."

she finally shifted to respond, hand sliding over his on her stomach. "mm.. then do it," she said, breath shaky but sure. "again. as many times as it takes."

his head lifted and be stared at her, eyes dark and wide. 

"i want to carry you," she whispered, softer now, but no less certain. "i want to wake up tomorrow and feel you. still inside me. still holding."

she arched into him gently, her thighs already spreading again beneath his weight and he felt her pussy flutter around him. wet, ready, still open from the first time. still aching for more.

"i want it to take," she mumbled, cupping his face now, thumb brushing along his cheek. "want every part of you."

for the first time that night, damian didn't have words.

only breath, and only need.

he wasted no time in slotting their lips together before beginning to move again; slow and reverent, like he was thanking her for sharing the intention.

[616ioi]

@#%! 1:33 , shin asakura.

content: slight smut warning, mentions of wet dreams, gender neutral & sub character and warning this is mature content, read at your own discretion. this is part two of 1:32. also, this is mainly them coming together as one aww 😦.

The nerve you have to look him in the eye and converse with him irked him to a sense he couldn't even describe!

How dare you act in such a way.

Shin taps away at the counter top, his apron resting so neatly against his body (not a single speak of dust on that ugly green thing). He feels frustrated.

You're staying over tonight. What if it happens again? What is he going to do then? He's been laying awake for nights on end, thinking and, as much as it hurts to admit, caressing himself.

His hands would curl into fists around his pijama pants and he would slightly squirm before his fingers trailed over his abdomen. He would shut his eyes and imagine that night, over and over and over again.

He would never, actually do anything. After all, he was in the home of his beloved hero. With his family.

Riiinggg!

"I'm back, Shin!"

Aoi! His face lights up as he quickly runs to help her out with the groceries in her arms. He falters in his steps when he catches those eyes that have been haunting him for weeks now.

You send him a friendly wave.

The blond esper bites his bottom lip and his gaze wavers shyly. His biceps flex as he walks up the stairs leading to their home.

His face feels hot!

He quickly sets the bags on the kitchen table and turns to the cheery woman. He refuses to meet your eyes. Rather, he hides behind his hair.

"Do you need any help?"

"Oh no, thank very much, Shin!" Aoi perks up with a huge smile, like always. She carefully goes through the products of face masks that you bought. "Me, hana, lu and (name) are going to have a makeover night! Isn't it exciting?!"

Shin's smile visibly deflates alongside his shoulders before he pops himself back into shape.

This means you won't share a room with him!

But then, why is he sharing a room with Mr. Sakamoto?

She kicked me out. The white haired man explains. He looks like the saddest pup on the block.

"Uff.." Shin scrambles to find a response to cheer up this sad mode. "Must be tough..."

Did I do something wrong? Sakamoto trails off. The younger boy nearly replies but he's cut off. Did I say something wrong. I'm sorry. What did I do?

"Um." Shin feels sweat form at his face as he squirms uncomfortably. He nearly jolts out of bed as he finds the perfect excuse — "I needa hit the loo."

The esper sighs in relief. Only Aoi seems to get a rise out of him. As his feet softly hit the floor, his mind subconsciously wanders to you.

Have you fallen asleep yet?

...There's no sound. No dream, no image. Nothing.

He frowns before his eyes widen, catching himself. He slaps himself as hard as he could, yelping.

Was he disappointed??

He locks his jaw before rushing into the the bathroom, only to jump when he runs straight into you. He stares for a heavy second before breaking out into a sweat.

"Sorry!" He squeaks out. You calmly dry your hands with a small, embarrassed grin.

"Don't worry. 'Was just washing my hands." Your reassurance calms him down, but the silence that engulfs the tiny bathroom — doesn't. You seem to think of something.

Shin does everything in his power to not read your mind.

You've been avoiding me.

Darn it.

His hair is spiked up, all messy, from the tossing and turning in his bed. He thinks he looks like a mess, but you? You think he looks adorable.

A red blush spreads across his cheeks before he parts his lips, wetting them nervously.

"I haven't been avoiding you.." you shake your head, clearly not believing him. "Well, n-not obviously."

"You won't even glance at me." Shin quickly meets your teary eyes before they fall unto the shower curtains. The little fishes on the curtain were fading away from all the water tainting it. "See!"

"Um," you tilt your head, "well, the night you stayed over.. uh you uhh kinda had a d-dream of-"

"Of you." A look of recognition rises across your pretty features. Shin nods, embarrassed.

I made you uncomfortable, "I'm sorry, shin."

No. Shin thinks, "that's not it.."

Whoops. He didn't mean to say that aloud.

He flushes as he steps closer to you, hands hoovering over your elbows. He was afraid to touch you.

"I've... never been the subject of admiration before." His brows knit together, fingers twitching as he drops his arms to his sides.

Much less of a dirty dream.

"Oh." You swallow nervously.

It's not the first time. You're twiddling with your shirt, eyes looking at the cute bunny slippers on your feet. They were aoi's spare ones.

"H-huh?" The room feels hot. Or is it just him?

You step closer to him, until your chest is just an inch away from him. Barely. Shin grips at his pants, his heart beat spiking up.

"I've had many dreams of you," you shrug as if this information was nothing new. After all, he can read minds, it's going to come out anyways. "Many where we had sex even as just friends."

Shin gulps as blood rushes all over his body. What are you insinuating?

"That's not who you are, though." You muse, brushing back his sweaty hair. His skin is hot to the touch. "You want to make love with someone who you have feelings for. Isn't that right?"

Shin presses his lips together to hold back any embarrassed cries. He was 100% sure he wouldn't even be able to form a sentence without stumbling and stuttering.

"Do you like me, shin?" His head bows but you're quick to cup his cheek as you force him to look at you. Your touch is so tender, he's almost tempted to move your hand even lower.

He hesitates.

I like you, Shin. His ears burn as he stares wide eye, in curiosity? Disbelief? He isn't sure.

Nonetheless — he nods. Once.

Its a confirmation.

-kiss me.. you think.

"Can I kiss you? Please?" Before you even get a proper response, Shin lunges forward. He grasps at the collar of your shirt and pulls you in to steal a kiss.

Your lips taste of cherry.

His head feels light and dizzy when you open your mouth to push your tongue against his. His hold on you loosens, legs trembling as he decides to lower himself to his knees, bringing you down with him.

He can feel you, shockingly.

Every thought, every sensation, every feeling. It's overwhelming. He feels like he's being electrocuted as his pulse quickens.

More. He tries to gasp out loud and he ends up getting frustrated when you slow down. He pulls away, tongue hanging out as he processes whats going on.

In your mind, you imagine a little puppy.

"S-shut up." Shin grunts, embarrassed, as he closes his wet, pink lips. He wipes at them with the back of his wrist, hips rocking gently. He pulls you closer by your clothes before his hands cup your jaw as he presses tender kissing to your cheek.

You smile, curious.

"What's up?"

"You really do like me." Shin breathes out. He earns a nod in return. His body relaxes into you, shivers raking down his back. You pull him into a warm hug, one leg in between his. His hips buck involuntarily as his breath hitches when his boner rubs against your thigh.

"I've never felt that before." He hiccups, stomach churning with need. You nod, in understanding. Your hands trail from his back to the hem of his shirt, lifting it just enough to spot the way his muscles twitch.

"How was it?" Shin sighs in relief when you rub him through his tight pants. You can feel him pulsating.

He bites his lip, hips angling higher to find a more comfortable position. "I could- hnng, feel everything you felt, ah.."

You smile at him, "but it was just a kiss?"

He throws his head back with a groan. The door softly thuds under his weight. "Cmonn, quit teasin'.."

A chuckle escapes you as you slip your nimble fingers underneath his pants yet over his boxers.

"Here?" You feather like touch dips over the wet spot, purposely missing the head.

"Noo.." He shakes his head rapidly, slapping his palm over his mouth as his ears burn. He sounds so needy.

Just like in your dream(s).

But even better. You think to yourself.

"What about this?" Your fingers trace the print of his cock slowly, as if you were trying to memorize his.. well, everything. Shin curses under his breath, rocking his hips back and forth.

He lifts his shirt up to get a better view (more like give you a better view, but he'd never admit that). You eye his body, from his pink nipples to the v-line trailing downwards. He tries his best to hide that shy grin that forms on his face.

"More, please." You lean forward to press a wet kiss to his bitten and bruised lips as a reward. He huffs out in response. You pull out your hand to, finally, free him of the clothing, only to leave his pants mid-thigh. Is this suppose to be some sort of restraint?

His chest heaves rapidly, impatiently. You leave a trail of kisses from his jaw to his chest, down his v-line and finally at the base of his cock. Shin watches eagerly with wide eyes, arching his hips into you.

You grasp at him, his twitching cock in your hand. It feels so hot, you can't help but tease him with a kiss to his leaking tip.

Mwah.

The action smears sticky, white goo against your lips and it seems to be making more of a mess when lick at your lips.

His mouth drops open at the lewd scene, but his heart warms up too.

How confusing he is.

You hum in pleasure as you lay your tongue flat against his slit, licking up more of his precum. Shin whimpers softly, pushing his hips further. More, more, more.

Knockknockknock.

The sound of rapid knocks break him out of his daze as you jolt up, surprised.

Oh drats! I'm going to pee myself!

"Lu!" Shin whisper yells to you as he scrambles to fix himself. He winces painfully as he hurries to find a hiding spot.

"(Naaaammeee), hurry please!!"

Oh god. He's dead.

note. they don't know how freaky I am 🤑💔

[fluff-lover]

Past Future | Logan x fem!Reader

Summary: Logan time travels and finds out his future self is married... to you.

Note: this is in a way part of my Healing Touch fic, where Reader is called "Angel", is a mutant and has healing powers. But can be read without reading the whole fic.

Also, I don't think the timelines and plot makes much sense, but this came to me one night and I just needed to write it!

In a desperate attempt to stop the sentinels, Charles and Logan offer to travel into the future to find out how (and if) the X-Men won the war, only to find out that mutants are almost extinct there. Year is 2030 and their only lead takes them to the Logan from the future: a more rugged, worn down Wolverine who hung the claws a year ago, after Charles died.

“I don’t go by Logan anymore.” He told them. “Here I’m James.”

It took a lot of persuasion to make James take them home and help them. James wanted to leave the past in the past, but seeing Chuck again, even if it was a younger version, pulled some strings in his heart.

That’s how they found themselves standing outside Jame’s home: a little cabin in the woods, with lovely flowers in the front yard, a wooden fence, a nice porch… 

Logan, the one from the past, felt like this was a completely parallel universe instead of his own in the future. The man standing in front of him was completely different from him.

“Listen, I’m very protective of my home.” James said. “So here are some ground rules: Don’t go sneaking around, don’t touch anything…” He said looking from Charles to Logan, then back to Charles. “Don’t feed the dog.” And finally he turned to Logan. “And don’t hit on my wife.” he said in a warning tone.

“You have a dog?” Charles asked.

“You have a wife?!” Logan added in disbelief.

They walked in and found a cozy home, a lit fireplace, and the smell of homemade food filling in the air.

“Shoes.” James said before taking his shoes off.

Charles and Logan exchanged a look before taking their shoes off too.

Oh, James was whipped!

A white and brown border collie rushed to James and he bent down to greet her.

“Hi Whiskey, have you been a good girl today?” He asked the dog while patting her. She wiggled her tail and licked his hand. “Yeah you were… always such a good girl.”

Logan watched closely, he couldn’t imagine ever getting a dog. 

James straightened with a groan and walked further into the home.

“Sweetheart?” He called out.

You walked out of the kitchen to greet him and Logan’s breath hitched.

You were SO beautiful, breathtaking. Now he understood Jame’s warning. His younger self would definitely try to make some moves on such a pretty thing.

Logan watched in disbelief as you cupped your husband’s face and kissed his lips oh so sweetly while James wrapped an arm around your waist. Logan wondered how on Earth he would end up with such a loving, beautiful partner. It was clear your tenderness rubbed off on James, seeing him being all lovey dovey with you.

James quickly introduced them and you couldn’t help but look at Logan in wonder. He looked just like your husband, just younger. But he wasn’t the same man. You and Logan went through so much together: losing the other mutants, helping Charles, finding Laura, only for Charles to pass away in a horrific way… No, your James was unique, and you loved him just the way he was.

Charles was a whole different story…

“That’s… a head full of hair…” You half joked. James snorted and kissed your temple.

Your life with James was simple and very domestic. You made dinner in the kitchen while he set the table. Logan and Charles tried to take everything in as this wasn’t the future they expected.

“Alright, dinner is ready!” you said as you placed the food on the table.

“I’ll get Laura.” James said before going upstairs.

“Who’s Laura?” Charles asked.

“She’s James’ kid.” You said as you sat down. Logan opened his eyes so widely you thought they would pop out of his skull. “It’s complicated, technically she’s his clone, but after we found out about her we decided to keep her and raise her as our own.”

Logan watched James arrive downstairs followed by a little girl. There was some resemblance, especially in her frown. She didn’t look happy to have visitors.

When Laura spotted Logan, she quickly hid behind James’ legs. He smiled gently at her and patted her head.

“It’s alright kiddo, he’s good. Not a clone.” He explained while guiding her to her chair next to you. You smiled sweetly and placed a plate of food in front of her.

Once you were all sat at the table Charles and Logan explained the situation and asked a ton of questions about the future. With a lot of patience James told them everything, from how to defeat the sentinels to how you two ended up here. He told them about Charle’s seizures and how it killed every other mutant except for the two of you. 

You told them about your healing powers and your days at the School as “Angel”. 

…About your marriage…

…About finding Laura…

About Charles passing away.

At one point you turned to Charles with glassy eyes.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I used my healing powers with you every chance I got but…” You shook your head and sighed. “I think you were so tired you just gave up. And then when you were attacked by X-24 I got to you too late, you had already passed away…” you looked away in shame. James lifted your hand and kissed it.

“You did everything you could… We all did.” James said before turning to the others. “She’s constantly healing me too, otherwise I would be dead by now.”

“Healing from what? I thought you… we…” Logan cleared his throat, not knowing how to address James. “What about the enhanced healing power?”

“I still got it, but the adamantium in my bones is slowly poisoning me.” He then looked at you lovingly. “My little angel keeps it from taking me out entirely.”

“What’s adamantium?” Charles asked.

“A nearly indestructible metal that was injected inside me to make me stronger.” With that James unleashed his claws and the other men saw their reflection on the shiny material.

“What the fuck…?” Logan mumbled.

“How did that happen?” Charles asked.

“That’s another long story…” James sighed.

“And it’s been a long night, I’ll tuck Laura in.” You said getting up. “Come on sweetheart, it’s bedtime.” 

Laura got up and before following you upstairs she stopped to hug James goodnight. It took a while for James and Laura to form this father-daughter bond, but you knew they loved each other and every day they learned more and more to show their affection. It was slow progress but it was worth it.

“Good night, kiddo.” James smiled softly and watched the two of you walk upstairs. Logan was still trying to wrap this whole thing around his head. James turned to him and tilted his head towards the door. “Care for a drink?”

James, Logan and Charles sat down on the porch, each one of them with a glass of bourbon. The sky was clear and the stars shone bright. It was quiet and nice, the only light in the porch coming from a little lamp hanging from the roof.

Charles and James discussed plans of action against the sentinels and how to get reinforcements, but Logan stayed quiet mostly. He had so many questions, the most important one being what did he do to deserve such a happy, tranquil life?

Whiskey, the dog, laid next to James on the floor with her head resting on her master’s foot.

“So this is your life now, uh?” Logan suddenly said, interrupting Charles and James’ talk. “You go to work, come home to a wife and kid, have dinner, sit on the porch with a drink and a cigar…”

James arched an eyebrow.

“Pretty much, yeah.” He said before taking a drag.

“You forgot the dog.” Charles added and Logan shot him a glare.

“Hard to believe, no?” James asked him. Logan didn’t know what to say, but yes, he was having a hard time believing this.

“It's just so… peaceful.” he mumbled.

James hummed and took a sip of his drink.

“It is, and so far away from all the violence I once knew. For the longest time I didn’t believe I deserved it. That I didn’t deserve HER.” It was clear he was talking about you. “But each morning I wake up next to her and she reassures me this is where I belong.” He smiled, thinking about the quiet mornings, the whispers under the covers, the light kisses on his face.

“Are you happy?” Charles asked softly, wanting to believe his friend got a somewhat happy ending while the rest of the world went to shit.

James hummed again and nodded his head.

“Happier than I recall ever being.”

By the time they went back inside you were almost done washing the dishes. James stood next to you and started drying them, a radio playing old tunes in a corner.

While Logan and Charles discussed strategies, Logan caught a glimpse of you and James slow dancing in the kitchen. It was a heart pulling scene: your head resting against James’ chest, Paul Anka’s voice sounding in the background. 

It looked so simple, just a common married couple slow dancing in the kitchen late at night, a domestic yet sweet tint to it. Yet to Logan it looked like an impossible dream of something he never thought he could get.

“You’ll get there.” He heard Charles whisper and his face went red as he realized he was caught staring.

“Uh?”

Charles looked at the couple and back at him.

“You’ll meet her, fall in love and marry her. Don’t worry, this will happen to you.”

Logan cleared his throat awkwardly.

“It won’t if we change the future.”

“You won’t remember any of this when you get back to your own time. But I will, and I’ll make sure you meet her.” Charles promised.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He said dismissively. “That’s not what we’re here for. Keep your head in the mission.”

Charles simply smiled.

Logan was whipped too…

Tags:

@starsmoonn

@insanesosciopath

@rebloggingfanfictioninthechaos

@ayamenimthiriel

@charmingballoon

@espressopatronum454

@uncertified-doc

@ltristessedureratoujours

@all-for-kpop

@readerofwords616

@tezooks

@tomhockstetter7-111

@meetmypointlessaddiction

@mostly-marvel-musings

@jules-and-gemss@reidsworld

[waylamia]

Growing Pains

recommended listening: Ribs by Lorde

"Why can't you just GO AWAY!" There is a resounding thud, as the door is closed in his face, and that's the end of it. He stands outside the slammed-and locked?-door in shock, shoulders drooping as the clear rejection settles in. Then he hears Josephine choke out a little laugh from her place in the kitchen. "She's at that age..." It takes everything in him not to snarl at her.

-> You reject Caleb's presence for the first time your shared lives. Caleb comes to terms with his role in yours.

reader experience notes: second person perspective. reader uses she/her pronouns, reader is MC but is not addressed by name in this fic, reader is not physically described beyond having hair of unspecified texture. reader is 12 and Caleb is 14.

content warnings: teen angst </3 #brocken, extremely brief and vague mentions of child experimentation/torture/death, my fascination with grandma Josephine as a character of questionable morality, Caleb and MC were raised as adopted siblings and I do and will continue to engage with the complexities of that dynamic in my work (if you don't rock with that scroll past or block freely. protect your peace and party on. <3) pip-squeak usage as I am a pip-squeak truther.

approx. 9k words

Thursday, Caleb decides, is the worst day of the week.

He's sat in the entryway of Josephine's house-two years and he still can't bring himself to call it 'home', not when you aren't around to hear it-after returning from his run. Waiting, now, for you too to return. He unties the laces of his right shoe, slowly. Mind drifting, as it tends to, when you aren't present to keep him present.

The ink had hardly dried on the adoption papers before Josephine had loaded you both up with extracurriculars... Well, maybe that isn't entirely true and maybe it isn't entirely fair, she'd given you a few weeks to adjust. But what little time she was willing to give wasn't nearly enough in Caleb's opinion. Not for two kids who's whole world (at least as far as your memory served.) consisted of the walls of the orphanage and an overgrown garden.

He remembers the first time she'd brought you to a playground. Your face settled in confusion, processing the presence of the colorful plastic structures, their cleanliness and distinct lack of rust. He remembers your little hands darting to cover your ears when two kids hopped on the seesaw, anticipating the familiar, grating screech that would not come from this parks well kept equipment. He remembers being worried. That it was too much too soon. Remembers glaring at Josephine as she sat nearby, watching, neutrally. Like if your little heart exploded again, right then, it would make no difference at all.

He doesn't notice he's practicing the speech until you speak.

'It's okay if you forget... I'm Caleb, I'll always be by your side.'

'Even if you don't remember anything, I can always say it again...'

'I'm Caleb. I-'

"Caleb!" Your voice jerks him from his thoughts, eyes darting around the playground to find you. Tenseness he hadn't even realized he was carrying falling away when he spots you. You've climbed to the highest point, not on the playground-where the other kids are giggling and racing and shoving at each other-but on a nearby tree. He squints up at you through the harsh light of the midday sun. You're smiling, full of pride at your successful ascent. He laughs. All these shiny new toys and you take to the tree. Just like the one in the garden of the orphanage. It's awful smart of you, he thinks, to find something familiar to cling to in the midst of all this uncertainty. He races to the base of it. Knowing your eyes will follow him, that when your gaze lowers down and down and down you're courage will waver and you'll need his help getting back to the ground. It's a bad habit of yours.

Cheeks puffed out at the dinner table from too big bites bites of your food, always a little more than you can chew.

Sure enough, the next time his eyes lift you're own have widened, a barely there tremble where your fingers cling to the branch supporting you. He grins up at you, making no effort keep the little bit of smug amusement at this familiar game from his expression. "You want down?" You do. You always do. But you've gotten wise to the meaning of that particular look on his face, and he can tell you don't want to give him the satisfaction. You've started to take issue with him knowing what you need before you do. Telling him it doesn't make any sense at all.

But how couldn't it? He's spent more time with you than you have.

"I can do it myself." You huff. Stretching your leg in an attempt to reach the next lowest branch, only just grazing it with your toes. Caleb folds his arms and waits. This is a part of the game too. It will go one of two ways, and in the end, the way of it will make no difference at all. Two roads always leading to the same destination.

At the table, he cuts up your food. From the treetop, he catches you.

'...Must be feeling particularly stubborn today.' He thinks as he watches you extend your arms to lower yourself down. All you'd have to do is ask and he'd get you grounded. He wouldn't even make you say please. He's not going to tell you that, obviously. You get away with enough as it is. But it's always true. You've made it half the way back when you slip, the sudden jerk you make to recover causing your load-bearing branch to snap. Your startled shriek catching just as it starts when a soft pressure envelops you. Gravity warping around you until your feet are flat on the ground.

The clanging of pans draws him back to the to the entryway. He blinks down at his shoe, which he has seemed to unconsciously retie, brow furrowing as he moves to undo it once more. A cabinet creaks shut. Josephine is in the kitchen, preparing supper. An increasingly infrequent sight, with her too long hours at jobs that pay only just well enough to provide for the three of you, often keeping her out of the house long past dark. He supposes very few things are as lucrative as groundbreaking human experimentation... But he's a little too preoccupied to tug at that old thread at the moment.

Your new schedules keep you busy from dawn to dusk. Every morning: your stretches, breathing exercises, and pills-vitamins for you both, heart medication for you-then school, then your assortment of extracurriculars. 'To make up for all the time you lost at the orphanage.' Right. The orphanage. Caleb rolls his eyes at the memory. 'It will give you an opportunity to get to know the other children in the area.' He could almost laugh. Maybe, to an extent, there is some amount of truth in her words when addressing you, but when it comes to him... She can try to spin it however she'd like, Caleb hears the message loud and clear.

'I'm doing you a favor, letting you stay here. So keep out of my hair.'

He gets back to untying his shoes, ignoring the presence in the kitchen. He'd seen her car in the driveway when he'd made it back, hadn't said a word when he came inside and neither had she. It was always like that, always quiet between the two of them, words only ever exchanged out of necessity and, whenever possible, through you. He could comfortably call it loathing, on his end, but he could never quite tell what exactly she felt about him. From where he stood she didn't seem to feel much of anything beyond whatever twisted attachment she had to you.

You were the only thing to ever make her eyes soften at the lab. At the orphanage, you were the only one she had wanted.

He was panicking, running down the hall to the Director's Office, told by one of the younger kids that you were 'having a test'. He'd had to rack his brain for what that could mean. Shook off memories of evol experiments and observation pods until it hit him. Adoption interview. He skids to a stop at the door, knob collapsing in on itself before he's even bothered to check the lock. It crashes heavily into the wall as he bursts in. Shouting, already, as he takes stock of the room's occupants.

"You're not taking her!"

The Director, stern set of her features uncharacteristically disturbed by the suddenness of his entrance. Brows raised, eyes wide, mouth agape. It is seconds before she schools her expression. Tells him this is 'none of his concern', demands he 'leave at once'. He thinks of the doorknob he just reduced to nothing. Thinks she would be just as easy to-

You move into his line of sight, head poking out from behind the woman sat in the chair beside you. You tilt it at him, curiously, sat very politely on the uncomfortable leather chair in front of the Director's desk. To your right, occupying the other seat, is-

His right shoe is undone again, he peels it away from his foot, moving to set it neatly on the rack by the door, gaze pulled to the sturdy wall of wood on his way, hoping to see it finally, blessedly swing open. No such luck.

Taekwondo had been Josephine's idea. All of your activities had been Josephine's idea, really. Options laid out and organized for you to look over, ultimately not a choice at all, she demanded the time be filled with something. He'd resented it-mind reeling with images of padlocked rooms, meals pushed through quickly closed shutters. 'Time's up' and 'lights out' and 'test complete'-and he'd have fought her on it, if you hadn't been so awed. You, thrumming with energy over the possibilities, asking an unending string of questions about each option. 'do you get to dress up all fancy for dance class?' 'is sewing the one with the machine or the big sticks?' 'do you have to swim even when its super cold?' 'what about-' His defiance had died on his tongue in favor of trying to convince you to sign up for basketball with him. It made him feel better, the idea of doing these things together. Josephine could take you to as many playgrounds as she wanted, you'd find a tree, and when you couldn't, he'd be one. In his focus in the planning of your new schedules, he hadn't noticed Josephine pursing her lips.

It took a good few hours of back and forth and cross-referencing school and activity times before you'd come to an agreement. On Monday's you'd go to ballet and on Wednesdays, your study groups. Piano lessons on Tuesdays and Thursdays, then on Friday, basketball. All of it done together. Josephine had made a face at that, one he could not name but knew he didn't like. His instincts were good, he'd discover, when just after a month into this new routine she'd called him back to the table after supper.

"She should know how to defend herself." She spoke flatly, Caleb wasn't sure she could speak any other way. Not to him at least. His brow furrows.

"...From what?" He's daring her to say it, more than anything. He knows 'from what'. Had lived through 'from what' already. Hasn't heard a word about 'from what' since Josephine brought you both into her home like it was normal. Like she was normal. Like anything she'd helped everyone at 'from what' put you through was normal.

She sighs, leaving the question to die on the table just like you. Over and over again. He scoffs. She can play pretend all she'd like with you, he is never going to let her get a do over, not really. Not when he still remembers everything.

Silence occupies every bit of space between them, gazes fixed on each other through it. Beacons on separate shores, never to meet. Caleb scowls as Josephine studies him. Like some sort of equation. Something with a solution, rather than someone with a well earned grudge. Always an obstacle, never a boy.

In the end, he'd agreed with her. You should know how to defend yourself. You won't need to, not ever. Not as long as he's around, but just in case. Everything in case.

He didn't understand why she'd felt the need to run this one thing in particular by him first. She'd been plenty comfortable making your decisions up until then, and he harbored no delusions about who held all the power here. Who's will it was that allowed you not to be separated. It is only when he goes to untie his left shoe that he notices his leg bouncing anxiously.

He doesn't like being apart from you. Always afraid when he cannot see you. He's not ashamed to admit it, at least to himself. He has every reason to be scared. Two years of uninterrupted peace. Two years since Josephine clasped your little hands across the hard metal arms of those squeaky chairs in the Director's cold office and promised you a home. Two years and he still sees bright white lab lighting in the back of his mind. Feels static in the air when he jolts awake, gasping, from his sleep. 'Don't... take her away.'

He unties his shoe, takes it off, and just holds it. He can't put it on the rack with its pair. He can't leave the entryway until you get back.

He didn't understand why she'd bothered to mention Taekwondo classes to him, to get his assent, until they had finished with signing you up.

It was an all girls class. Caleb would not be attending with you.

Josephine was very good at solving problems. And that's what he was, wasn't he? An exponent attached to you? A negative factor that needed canceling out?

It will be a very long time (a lifetime, his first) before he understands what it was she was after, what she had already started to see in him-what she was afraid of, for you.

From then, their relationship settled-like scum on the surface of water-into what it is now, which is not really a relationship at all. A family, by law. But by circumstance, by experience, something worse than strangers.

He's still adjusting to being away from you at school, now that grade division has seen you sent to different campuses entirely. The daily relief of the final bell sounding, signaling he's soon to see you, quickly stolen by the dojang with it's bolded sign reading 'WOMEN ONLY' at the door. For the first few weeks, when he'd walk you to the building after your piano lessons, he could swear that instead of the soft thud of the double doors swinging shut he'd hear the shrill beep of an observation room door being unlocked. That while he waited outside for it to be over, when he heard your name called it wasn't your name at all, but your number, or one of the other not-your-name's they used to call you. He'd still be waiting outside the dojang now, instead of the entry to Josephine's home, if the workers hadn't started shooing him away. The world, like he's always suspected, seeming to exert every effort to keep him from you.

That was when the running had started. Going straight back to Josephine's house to stew in all of his anxiety and overthinking was an unproductive and unappealing prospect. He had to find some way to get the energy out, to save himself from rumination. The first day, it came to him like instinct. You'd finished your piano lessons, he'd walked you to the dojang, the workers stationed at the door watched to be sure he'd leave, and he took off, running. By the time it was exertion making it difficult to breathe and not the fear that you wouldn't come back out of those double doors, he would return and your class would be over and the pair of you would walk home, together, how you were meant to be.

That schedule, that routine, got you through the better part of two years, and then you decided to introduce a new variable.

You've made some new friends at the dojang. Which is... good, of course. He's trying to let it be good. Trying to ignore the scratching in the back of his skull that says what your lived experience thus far has shown, that everyone is out to get you.

There'd been an argument at the dining table over it, your request to walk home with your friends instead of Caleb. The two of you locked in a silent glaring contest after you'd asked Josephine and he'd said 'No.' and you'd said 'Why?' and he'd said 'No.'

"Caleb." Josephine's voice is stern. It gives him pause, even as he refuses to break eye contact with you. It's not her tone, though he could never shake his irritation at her seemingly unshakable neutrality, it's just that he's trying to recall the last time she'd addressed him directly. Three weeks ago, he thinks, Sunday afternoon. He'd been caught sneaking an extra soda for you. "Caleb." She tries again. This time, he hears what she means to say. 'Who do you think is in charge here?' Caleb is 14, and Josephine is however the hell old she is, and he harbors no delusions about who holds the power here. But it's you they are talking about here, your safety. Of all times, of all things it should be now that the two of them see eye to eye.

"Grandma, she-"

"Is nearly a teenager herself. If you can walk twice that distance to the grocery store alone, there is no reason she can't make it back here with the company of her friends." Always hyper-logical. Always leaving little room for argument. Always serving her own ends. Either unknowing or uncaring of the turmoil he is under. Probably both. Everyone is out to get you. Josephine's continued presence, continued control of your lives, his constant reminder.

That's the end of it. The table is quiet.

'Fine,' he thinks, 'he'll just have to run farther.'

And so it becomes: get out of school, pick you up, go to piano lessons, walk you to the dojang, run the distance between there and the house and keep going after that, until he's pretty sure he feels his lungs starting to collapse. Then he'll turn around and run the distance back to Josephine's. This way, when he gets there, you're already back. He steps through the front door, you call out to him, and he can breathe again. It was a system that'd worked every Thursday since, up to and until today. Hence the sitting by the door, and the issue of his shoes.

He's back, Josephine's back, the sun is going down, and you are nowhere to be seen. In the weeks since this routine began you've never been this late before. After class corner store and park visits with your little pals never keeping you out this close to supper.

"Your time would be better spent working on your assignments or helping prepare the meal than standing idle at the door." Josephine is matter-of-fact, as ever. And as ever, Caleb is unmoved, he's still cradling his left shoe. She sighs, not having to look up from her work to know she is being ignored. "She is perfectly fine. She'll be home soon." A statement made with the surety of someone who has a tracker in your flip phone, a heart rate monitor on your little wrist watch. But Caleb really doesn't give a damn what the data points on her phone screen are telling her when its been 2 hours and 43 minutes since he last saw you. Of course he's been counting. "She needs to be allowed to find her place in the world." He frowns at that. You had a place, both of you did. Next to each other. What else is there to have?

He raises his left knee, poised to slip his shoe back on. Glancing briefly toward the kitchen. Josephine couldn't stop him, if he chose to go look for you. And the longer he spends in her home, the older he gets, the less afraid he is she'll try to send him away. Try, being the operative word, he wouldn't go without a fight. He thinks you'd fight too.

He's just begun retying his laces when the door bursts open. Nearly sending him straight to the floor, collapse halted only by quick activation of his evol. Though it isn't his influence over gravity that finally lifts the weight from his shoulders.

You look like you went running, like you ran all the way back home. Which doesn't make a lick of sense to him, considering the hour. Something's off.

"That was a dramatic entrance." His tone is light, relaxed, like he hadn't just been preparing to rip a hole through the fabric of the city to get to you. He stands, looking you over. The anxiety that's been threatening to burst from him like foam from a shaken can of soda not dissipating so much as he crushes it down, just as he would a can that'd dare to spray at you. "Having such a good time you almost forgot supper, they said it couldn't be done!" He ruffles your hair, the action familiar, playful and purposeful. He draws himself closer to you, inspecting for damage, reading you for signs of discomfort or discontent.

Your breathing is ragged, the first thing he'd noticed upon your arrival-that and your shaking-which isn't uncommon after your classes but is never so... noticeable. Especially so long after the class itself has concluded. His mouth curves downward. You're also not looking at him, which is weird for you. You've always had kind of a staring problem. Josephine has a theory about that, about you taking in as much information-data. is the word she'd used-as you can to make up for all of the blank spaces left in your memory. Caleb tries not to think about it during the day time, it only makes him angrier at her. He lets his hand graze your cheek as he removes it from the top of your head. It's warm... and wet?

"Pipsqueak, what's wrong?" He's on his knees in front of you in an instant and, yup, you're crying. The hairs on the back of his neck raise at the same time as his eyes soften. Caught between wanting to make someone hurt for the expression on your face and wanting to help you forget why you're making it. You still won't look at him, no matter how he angles his head, and you won't speak either. Josephine is quiet from the kitchen. Listening, surely, but making no effort to intervene. The first step of the scientific method is observation. Caleb prefers a more direct approach. "Hey, talk to me." He moves to wipe the tears from your cheeks, attempting to hold your head still enough to make eye contact. This appears to be the wrong move.

"Stop it!" You swat at his hands. Rubbing at the tear tracks he'd failed to sweep away. Your gaze still lowered. "Just leave me alone!" You take a single step forward, but make no other effort to get past him. Mostly because you can't. The entryway is small and Caleb is making himself as wide as possible to block you. Unwilling to let you go when you are so clearly upset. There's a way that this is supposed to go, has always gone. Tell him why. Let him fix it.

"Not until you tell me what made you cry." He's using what you call his 'don't-do-dumb-things' voice, though it cracks in the middle, betrayed by his age and the depth of his feelings both. It is a voice that has always left admonished enough to raise your white flag. Today though, it just seems to further incite your ire. You huff, show your teeth like a cornered animal, shaking your head aggressively as you wipe a fresh wave of tears away with your sleeves. When the task is done you leave your arms high, defensive.

...defensive?

He's shrinking in on himself before he can put conscious thought behind it.

"Just move!"

He does, a little. For show more than anything, a vain attempt at compromise. He is torn between wanting to abide by your wishes and feeling that this is all wrong wrong wrong. Your behavior today... it's all so weird and backwards. He's left scrambling to keep up.

You're quick to take advantage of the gap he's created, attempting to wriggle past him, all sniffly and tense. He has this feeling that if you make it to your room it will be hours before he gets the chance to get to you, he has to stall you long enough to get you talk to him. "You need to take your shoes off before you come inside!" Does he care even a little whether or not you track dirt or mud or grass into Josephine's house? No. Is he going to lay awake in bed tonight thinking about how stupid it was to reprimand you when you were so obviously at the end of your rope?

Yeah.

You look at him for the first time since you got home, which feels like progress until you full on growl, crouching down to untie your shoes in the most comically angry way he thinks anyone has ever done it. He mirrors you out of habit, reaching out to where your hands, in all their shaky frustration, struggle to undo the knots in your laces. "Let me-" This is another, in his growing series of wrong things to do.

"I told you to leave me alone!" You shriek, and then there's quiet. Caleb freezes, making note of his mistake and your reaction to analyze later, and giving you a second to process what just happened. Usually, this is the part where you take a deep breath, cry harder, say you're sorry for being mean, and let him hold you and stroke your hair and tell you 'shh shh its ok' until you're ready to talk. Today, you take your finally undone shoe and throw it at him.

...What the hell is going on?

While he's left stunned from your surprise attack, you shove him. Pushing him into the wall, more from the way it feels like you really mean it than the actual force applied, regardless it is enough for you to dart past. "Hey-hold on!" He's quick to recover, to follow your hurried steps through the living room and down the hall. He catches up, he's always been faster, and all that running- "Wait, can't we just-" He reaches for you before thinking better of it, fingers just grazing your arm before pulling away, every time he's tried to touch you you've just gotten more mad. It takes you only a second more to cross the threshold of your bedroom, not sparing him a glance as you shut him out.

"Why can't you just GO AWAY!" There is a resounding thud, as the door is closed in his face, and that's the end of it. He stands outside the slammed-and locked?-door in shock, shoulders drooping as the clear rejection settles in. Then he hears Josephine choke out a little laugh from her place in the kitchen.

"She's at that age..." It takes everything in him not to snarl at her. She almost sounds... relieved. Like a breath exhaled after too long being held. Does she think this is funny? He turns his gaze back to the door, the lock. He could just... open it. Could break the door down, if he felt like he needed to. "Give her time to settle." It bothers him that she knows what he's thinking. It bothers him more that she's right. He sees your face in his mind, eyes all teary and red, brows drawn and lip curled, all teeth.

"She doesn't shut me out. Not me... Not ever."

"Come cut the vegetables." There has always been a distinct difference in Josephine's treatment of the two of you, though it could be noticed only by one who knew to look for it. She is always straight faced, always composed. She does not strain herself in speaking, neither out of joy nor agitation. It is down to the choice of words. To the order of them.

Josephine offers you guidance. Suggestions, advice, requests. To Caleb, she gives orders.

And Caleb, who has always known his place, follows them.

With a sigh and a final glance at your door, he turns to pad over to the kitchen. Josephine studies his face, that same clinical manner that makes him tense even now, before smiling and handing him a knife. "She's growing up, Caleb." She gestures toward the cutting board, the assortment of washed veggies. "There are things she'll want to work out on her own." Her gaze is focused on the bubbling pot, stirring diligently, steadily. She contains what would otherwise overflow. He understands, in theory, but can't reason why 'on her own' can't include him. The thought alone turns his stomach. He redirects his attention to the work provided to him, the rhythmic movement of the knife, the repetitive thud of it hitting the cutting board. "I had... thought you'd be the first one to want for distance." The knife slips, crashes harder than intended into the board. He looks up to her, face drawn.

"Why." It is a question as much as it is not. Leaves him in the same robotic manner as small talk. 'How are you' and 'what nice weather' and 'why would I ever try to be without her?'.

"You're at that age." The non-answer of someone who has been alive longer, who has seen more, and believes themself superior for it. He can't bring himself to care. Even as she turns to him with that familiar, analytical gaze. Seeing him, standing beside him, but never with him. The relationship between the lens and the slide in the microscope.

"What age Grandma?" He jolts at his own words. The title he only deemed necessary to use when you were in earshot. Reasons with himself that maybe you can hear from in your room.

She pauses, gazed fixed but unfocused, before finding the words. "Older brother's start to find little sisters more obnoxious than cute." Up and down her eyes go, then briefly to the counter, before she turns back to her work. She sighs. Whatever she was searching him for she cannot seem to find. "You're pretty good at that." She says, not bothering with another look up. He observes his progress. Vegetables finely chopped, a small collection of which have been cut into the shape of flowers, hearts.

He hadn't realized. He bristles, feeling in some way caught. "You work late. Someone has to make sure she eats." He means for it to be a barb. As with everything else, she accepts it neutrally.

"You take care of her Caleb, very well." A pause again, a call to attention. "Like a good brother." His brow furrows. That word keeps coming up. Ever since she brought you two home. You've started to use it too. There's something that feels not quite right about it.

He's not your brother.

Before the orphanage and the lab and the orphanage, he was nothing to you. You were nothing to him.

The train of thought cuts off abruptly. That isn't right either.

Josephine watches, quiet. The scientific method demands observation first.

It isn't right for you to be nothing to him. Not ever. So there is no before. He's fine with that. But what was he, to you, at the orphanage and the lab and the orphanage again? What is he now?

Josephine turns on the radio.

It strikes him as odd. She is someone who does not need outside stimulus, someone who takes no interest in distraction. When he looks to her, watches as she stirs the pot, he tilts his head in question. She does not face him as she responds.

"She is a very special girl." Caleb knows this, resents her saying it anyway. To him, you're special because you're you. Because your eyes are your eyes and your hands are your hands and they took his without needing a reason to. For Josephine, for the other scientists, for the company that funded them, you're special because of what you do. What they can do to you. What it means that what was done could be done and you could live.

You are a breakthrough, not a person. A future, not a girl with one.

"I know you aren't fond of me."

He won't argue that. Without you present there is no need to pretend at anything else. Josephine turns the radio up.

"You understand the work we were trying to do. Whether or not you agreed with it." She lowers her voice to a whisper. Caleb stands silent, wires crossing, gears turning in him.

The mechanics of the conversation click into place.

"I didn't. And I don't." The music is a cover, in case you can hear from your room. Their separate work is a cover, in case the discussion pulls expressions from them they'd prefer the other not to read. It is oddly compassionate of her. Oddly just.

The expectation, for the first time in two years of wool and shutters and roses, is honesty.

"Perhaps because you didn't see it for yourself." There is a dreaminess to her voice that makes him feel ill. "It was... remarkable. Like watching the birth of a planet in the flesh." 'Watching,' He thinks. 'like some kind of god.' But he can't say it, not through the growing tightness in his throat. How she speak so casually about it, find any sort of beauty in it, is lost to him. He hadn't seen, no, but he'd heard. Still hears you screaming in his sleep, still wakes shaking.

"You should know that I protested." There is a creaking, cracking sort of sound, and when Caleb goes to bring the knife down on the half of uncut leek before him he finds it has been twisted beyond recognition. Josephine hums. A sound like a confirmation. "Though I suppose that wouldn't matter to you. Your concerns are more... present. Too young to be troubled with longevity."

He is concerned with your longevity.

With that, he tires of the game. Dropping the useless knife. Silencing the radio himself, a brief bout of whirring and static before all is quiet, all is crushed. Even still, when he goes to speak he finds himself whispering.

"There is nothing you could say to me that will make me think you were in the right. Not when you killed her over and over while she screamed and hurt and apologized." His breathing is ragged, has been for longer than he's been speaking. " I heard everything. I remember everything." He raises his head, evol dragging Josephine's gaze to meet his. "I remember for her."

He is met with the mask. Always the mask. He wonders if there is even anything to see underneath. If, with pretense peeled away, her face would be hollow and black, like looking into the depths of a well. From the surface, no way to see if it has gone dry. Or maybe, it would be better described as blank, like an untouched page.

No, not untouched. Erased.

What other way is there to live with what you've done.

"Do you care about her?" He doesn't mean to ask. Doesn't even mean to think it.

"More than I can express in words." There is no room for doubt in her tone. Nowhere to hide a lie in the silence surrounding them.

Still, he doesn't believe her.

"You... wanted to stop it. You protested." All of her assuredness is met with equal uncertainty on his part.

She nods slow. "I did."

"But you didn't." The whole room is heavy, ceramic dishware straining against the increased pressure, a low hum in the air, all around.

"And did you?" For once he has provoked an emotion, something unnamed, quiet and cutting. She sighs, aggrieved. "What could one person be expected to do. Even if I had voted against-" She cuts herself off abruptly, expression shifting to something calculating. Some sort of clarity settling over her. Focus. "It wasn't a failing, on your part. To not have saved her. What could you have been expected to do? Knowing so little, watched over as you were?" Something new breaks through the usual, almost robotic, calm. A fraction of a fraction of the warmth she brings to her voice when speaking to you. The shift in attitude causes his control of the space to falter, a weight lifts, pressure lightening over everything but him. Josephine takes a step forward, he takes one back. She hums, low, gathers up his chopped vegetables to deposit into the pot. Temperature lowered to a simmer. "...You're old enough to be told. Smart enough, I believe, to understand." The knife, the one he'd mangled, scrapes across the cutting board. The practical, evenly sliced bits and cute, carefully shaped pieces of veg falling indiscriminately into the vessel. Everything about the scene unsettles him.

"Caleb, I need to know that I can trust you." He doesn't respond. He knows he isn't seeing the full picture, that in whatever game they are playing she is dozens of steps ahead. 'It wasn't a failing ... to not have saved her ... what could you have been expected to do? Knowing so little ... You're old enough ... Smart enough ... to understand.' Josephine cuts the heat on the pot, steam rises, simmer receding. There is no relief in the realization that everything he believed is true.

"I don't trust you. I'm not going to trust you." He gazes at the ground, head lowered. A small sign of submission. "But that doesn't mean I can't... understand." His eyes flick up and back. A half a second not enough to see a deceptively gentle smile settle on her face.

The deal is made. Transparency traded for cooperation. Information for compliance. There is the feeling of something wrapping around his throat. Invisible, but nonetheless felt, over faded scar tissue, the memory of the buzzing and beeping collar he'd earned after he'd-

"The food will get cold, and it is getting late." Josephine says, content. Pointedly avoiding looking at him, lest she have to extend herself to offer him care on top of everything else she's done for him. "Just for tonight you may eat in your room." She prepares three plates, portions entirely equal, but only one carefully arranged, specially shaped veggies in neat little piles.

In exactly one aspect, she and Caleb are identical.

"Take this one to her door on your way." She holds two plates out to him.

'And be on your way.' Goes unspoken.

He takes the offerings wordlessly. Turning to walk, stiff and careful from the kitchen and down the hall.

"Caleb." she calls as he reaches the arched threshold between the kitchen and the living area. He freezes, but does not turn. "Be a good brother."

His brow furrows. It is said like a command, like a fine print term to their agreement he'd missed.

"...I will."

He could swear he hears the smile in her voice when she replies. "We'll talk on Thursday. When she is out."

He thinks he nods, or he tells himself to nod, but the only action of his body he is cognizant of is the falling of his feet as he covers the distance to your room.

----

He isn't surprised when his knocking at your door is met with silence.

His mouth is drawn into a line, empty hand still raised as he debates knocking again, knowing you won't answer. Your plate of food hovers at his side, held in the air by his evol.

"...Gran said we can eat in your room tonight, I brought your plate." He waits, for a beat and then longer, nothing. He frowns. Barely swallowing a frustrated sigh. You'd had a long day, a physically demanding class, and you would still rather go hungry than see him. 'Alright then,' he thinks, 'other means.' He grabs your plate from the air.

"Okay, okay... I'll leave it at the door for you." He lowers both his plate and yours to the ground simultaneously. Righting himself slowly, and taking one, two, three, four and a half steps in place before your door-the distance his stride measures between his and yours-lowering himself to the ground with each step. He sits, arms and legs crossed in front of him, uses his evol to open and close the door to his own room, and waits.

It isn't long at all before your door clicks open and you come, as he guessed you would, crawling out-low to the ground, like a little mouse-to retrieve your supper. Your hand freezes, half extended, when you notice two plates instead of the expected one, and the pair of legs folded just behind them. You sigh, like someone bested, but otherwise remain unmoving.

Caleb waits patiently for you to decide the next move, hopeful that your lack of shaking is an indication of some amount of calm. That you have settled, like Josephine said, and will let him in. While the silence drapes over you both like a blanket fort, he busies himself looking you over. Searching for clues pointing him toward the problem. Whatever left you worked up enough to shut him out entirely. You aren't hurt, not anywhere he can see, and he does feel some relief at that. Nothing physical seems to be wrong with you. The only visual difference he can find between earlier and now is a changed shirt, and a significantly less tearful face. Your head stays low, body shrinking in on itself the longer the silence looms. Behavior from you, finally, that he has a frame of reference for.

You get quiet after you yell. It's one of the first things Caleb figured out about you. A burst of emotion followed by shyness, worry. Josephine commented on it once, and only once, halfheartedly joking under her breath that perhaps it was 'just your nature to explode'. Her mug had shattered in her hands, ceramic slicing into the tender flesh between her right thumb and pointer finger. Neither of them spoke a word about it.

"...'m sorry-" you only barely get the word out before he is reassuring you.

"-it's okay." His arms unfold. Hands sat in his lap, open, always ready for you to take.

You don't say anything else. Apology as far as you had planned, as far as you are willing to go, and then you are stuck. Caleb grabs both plates, holding them out to you.

"...Food?" You growling stomach replies for you. You nudge open the door.

----

Your chopsticks are placed gently onto your emptied plate. As you ate in your-relatively, considering the day you've had-companionable silence Caleb has been careful to keep his tracking of your movements to the corner of his eye. For all of your staring you don't particularly enjoy the favor being returned. He takes the last bite from his own plate-his pace set to match yours-before stacking the dishware and utensils in the space between your bodies on your floor. A physical barrier providing you the distance you require to be open and honest. Caleb, once more, exercises his endless patience.

"...I'm mad at you." You finally say, knees hugged to your chest. And, yeah, he kind of figured.

"Aw man, really?" The frowning emoji is all but spoken aloud in his tone. You look at him, expression somewhere between glaring and baffled and he snorts. Maybe it isn't the time to play with you, but you just make so hard to help himself.

And maybe, secretly, there is a small part of him that thinks you deserve to be poked at, just a little, for scaring him.

"...You're the actual worst." Your head falls over your knees, face tucked in. He's grateful you don't see his mouth twitch downward, the furrow he quickly straightens out of his brow. He shuffles around the remains of supper over to you.

"Alright, alright. 'm sorry for teasing..." He pets your head, smoothing your hair as he goes. "...do you wanna tell me what happened?" You tense and his hand freezes, afraid to have re-triggered whatever part of you didn't want him touching you earlier, but you are quick to relax again. He moves his hand to rest on your shoulder, thumb tracing a heart over the peak of your arm before stilling. He should tell you that you don't have to talk about it, if you aren't ready. But he doesn't want to, can't bring himself to.

Tell him why. Let him fix it.

"...they don't like me." You whisper, a choked little sound immediately following. Tears still left to shed, it'd seem. He puts an arm around you, hugs you into his side as best as he's able with you all folded over yourself.

"Who doesn't like you?"

You mumble something into your knees.

"Huh?" He leans into you, cheek resting on your shoulder.

"The girls in my class."

"...your friends? Or other girls?" Your head lifts with an annoyed huff. Like the problem is him being slow and not you being extremely cryptic.

"They aren't my friends and its your fault." He turns his head to meet your eyes, face twisted in confusion. You're glaring, again.

"My fault? What did I do?" He'd only even seen the girl's on maybe three occasions, crossed paths while seeing you off or meeting at the door on your return home. And he'd been polite even though, if he's being honest with himself, he kind of wished they'd never shown up.

You shake your head. "It's not what you did it's what I said I wouldn't do." You turn your head away from him, gaze dropping to your fingers drawing shapes into the floor.

His jaw drops. "Okay. Pip. You've lost me." You shut your eyes, take a deep breath, and shove yourself out of his hold. There's no real aggression behind it, not like earlier, but he allows it all the same.

He thinks he might still get yelled at.

...Or, he would think that, if you didn't look so shy.

You've turned to sit facing away from him now. He leans back and watches you with a tilt of his head. You take another deep, steadying breath before your hand shoots out to rip the comforter off of your bed, huddling yourself under it completely. He blinks, and, afforded the security of you being unable to see his face, grins a little.

Silly girl.

"Uh oh. My pip-squeak got swallowed by a blanket monster. Now I'm gonna have to eat all the cookies and chips in the house by myself." He nudges a lump of covered extremity with his foot.

"Caleb..." You groan, muffled by the thick, downy barrier between you and the world.

"Pip!" He replies, with all of the enthusiasm of a guy who would really like to know what's going on.

There's no further groaning or sighing or huffing from you. Just quiet. You're sat so still for so long that he's almost worried you fell asleep sitting up. He opens his mouth just as you finally speak up.

"They were only being nice to me 'cause they wanted me to introduce them to you. 'Cause they thought you were cute." He hears you, even through the muffle and your keeping your voice intentionally low. His lips purse. "They asked me to, while we were hanging out today. Got mad when I said no." He stares at the blanket pile that makes up your body. "They said... a bunch of mean stuff about me over it... I forgot most of it already. One of 'em threw her juice at me, and they laughed when I started crying about it." Your hand reaches out from the wadded comforter, pointing at your discarded shirt on the floor, the front stained pink. He worries himself over not having noticed, and as if you can hear his thoughts you continue. "...I turned it backwards before I came in, so my jacket would cover it. I don't know. It's embarrassing."

It's silent. In the wake of your confession. You stewing in your mortification, and Caleb trying to get to somewhere more useful than really angry at a collective of little girls.

As usual, he grounds himself by focusing on the most important thing he can do, taking care of you.

"...Does the blanket monster have room in its stomach for one more?"

You contemplate it, for a moment. Caleb is already gripping at a corner of the comforter, waiting for your permission to move in.

"...yeah... I guess."

He lifts the comforter, slides underneath, and places himself in front of you. The limited space leaves your noses all but touching. Your gaze is on your lap, where your hands sit, you're picking at the skin of one of them. Caleb keeps one arm raised above you both, providing what little structure he can to your makeshift tent. The other, he uses to swat at yours. "Hey, don't do that..." He takes your hand in his to stop you, to steady you, an anchor.

"If they got to hang out with you for a month and they still don't like you then they don't deserve you. And frankly, I think they should have their brains scanned, something is clearly misfiring." It's dark under the covers, but even still he can see you trying to fight down a smile. He smiles too, no fight at all. "And if they don't like you, I don't like them." You start to giggle and his grin widens. He doesn't tell you that he didn't like them regardless. That he is, in some part, relieved that the last few miserable weeks of Thursdays are finally over. "You can tell them I said that. Or I can, next week. When I pick you up." Silence falls. His smile slowly falling with it.

"I still... want to walk home by myself. After Taekwondo." To his great misfortune, you choose now to look directly at him. Leaving him to hope desperately that the relative darkness, covers him trying to school his expression.

"...how come?" He asks, quiet and making great efforts to suppress a whine. "I'm gonna be 13 soon. And I have to... I want to... be able to do some things by myself."

'She's at that age...'

He had been doing so well, not thinking about his conversation with Josephine.

'She's growing up, Caleb.'

'There are things she'll want to work out on her own.'

'Be a good brother.'

He doesn't know how.

He doesn't want to.

He wants to tell you no and to walk you home and to tell those little brats from your class to fuck off and-

"...alright."

You perk up, surprise clear on your face. "really?"

"I have conditions." He looks at you seriously. You nod, a single, strong movement of your head. He raises his hand to count. "One, you get a 30 minute window after class time to make it home. Two, if those girls say or do anything else to you you have to tell me. Right away, no exceptions. Three, if it rains or snows I will come to get you. You don't leave the dojang alone when the weather is bad." He lowers his hand. "If you agree to the terms, your request is accepted."

"...what happens if I don't come home in 30 minutes?" Your smiling when you say it. He scoffs, you must be feeling better if your already feeling mischievous.

"Well, pips its seems that the obvious outcome is that I would come find you. And you'd lose your privileges. Indefinitely."

"What? That's not fair? What if its super windy and I-"

"Clause 3."

"Well fine, no weather but what if I wanted to-"

"Clause 1 Pip, come on."

"You are such a meanie!" Your pounding at his chest with your little fists, but your both laughing, and there's no venom behind it. "Fine, whatever. I accept your stupid terms." You hold your hand out to shake his. The verbal contract warranting seriousness, a real seal. He rolls his eyes like he isn't the one that started it and gives your hand a firm shake. Neither of you bothers to let go.

For a moment you just sit there, quiet under the comforter together. A somberness falls over him, a resignation.

Being a good brother... kind of sucks.

He doesn't know where the thought comes from, what part of it is difficult to swallow, but regardless he shakes it off. Pulls up the roots before they can dig deeper into him. Josephine was right about everything else. Whether he liked it or not, she was probably right about this too. All he wanted was to be what you need. If this is what you need, he can be it. He'll be happy to. He won't ask for anything else.

Actually, that's a lie.

"One more thing." When he turns his eyes back to you he catches that you've been staring, a familiar warmth washes over him.

"Hm?" You tilt your head. He makes sure you intend to hold his gaze before speaking, a finger brushing your cheek affectionately.

"Next time you're mad at me, don't run away. Don't hide from me when you're upset." He tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. "I don't care if you throw things, or hit me, or yell. Just let me..." Fix it. "...just let me help."

You look him over, he doesn't know what for, what to show you, just hopes you find it. Whatever you need, whatever you want. He'd give you anything. You extend your pinky to him. "Promise?" A question. Another contract. More serious, even, than the last.

He locks his with yours, mouth lowering to rest on his hand. "Yeah. Promise."

...

This fic did everything but take me out back and shoot me I swear. I estimated this concept to run me a clean 2.5k words. Brother. It has been a long week. Will be crossposting on AO3 hopefully tomorrow. (And checking for spelling and grammatical errors... listen I just needed to be FREED OF THIS.) But for now, thats all I've got. love ya <3