#I just never have the time to work on it since now I’m in nursing school

[the-winter-spider]

Willow | 1/2

Pairings: 1940sBucky x Agent!Reader, Bucky x agent!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Nothing really

A/N: This fic was inspired by @vibraniumqueen message sent to me!! Hope its sort of what you requested! I got carried away and now have to post this in 2 parts lol

Im not like the biggest fan of this buuuuut after writing over 15k words total for the whole fic i gotta post it lol ALSO i definitely did not edit this lmao oopsie

The door slid open, and in walked Nick Fury, his presence commanding the room as always. He didn’t bother with formalities; he never did.

“Agent,” Fury began, his voice low and steady. “We’ve got a mission. One that never happened, and one you’ll never speak of again.”

You nodded, your face impassive, though your mind was already racing. Missions like these were your specialty. You didn’t operate in the spotlight. You weren’t one of Fury’s public heroes or a celebrated Avenger. You were a shadow, a weapon honed in the dark, moving through the world unnoticed. A ghost.

Fury crossed the room, his trench coat brushing the floor as he moved. “We’ve identified a Nazi stronghold in 1941, deep in occupied Europe. They’re in possession of critical documents — plans and technology decades ahead of their time. We can’t let those files survive the war.”

You glanced at the map, your mind already calculating. “Time travel,” you said, your voice calm, though the weight of the mission began to settle on your shoulders.

Fury nodded. “You’ll be stationed as a nurse with the 107th Infantry. They’ll be arriving at a field camp near the stronghold in a few days. Your cover is simple: blend in, gain access to the target, retrieve the files, and get out. No deviations. No attachments.”

You resisted the urge to scoff. No attachments. That had been drilled into you since the beginning. You were trained to be invisible, to serve a mission and then disappear without a trace. Your past in the Red Room had taught you that much, and SHIELD had only refined it.

“I assume I’m working alone,” you said.

Fury’s expression didn’t change. “You always do.”

It was true. You were a ghost in every sense of the word. You’d spent your entire life operating on the fringes, never part of a team, never part of their world. You knew of the Avengers, of course—who didn’t? But they didn’t know you. You weren’t a part of their grand battles or their legendary victories.

Well, except for one. Natasha Romanoff. She’d been a fleeting presence in your life, a reminder of your shared origins in the Red Room. You’d trained in the same shadows, fought the same demons. But even then, you hadn’t truly known her. She’d been a specter of a different life, one that had moved on without you. While she got recruited there, Fury thought you were best suited in the shadows.

You refocused as Fury handed you a dossier. Inside were detailed maps, forged documents, and a small vial containing a glowing blue liquid. The device that would send you back in time.

“You know the drill,” Fury said, his tone as sharp as ever. “You’re not there to change history, only to secure our future. In and out. No one remembers you, and you don’t bring anything or anyone back.”

You nodded, flipping through the dossier. “And the 107th?”

“They don’t know who you are, and they never will. You’re a nurse. That’s it. But one name on that roster might ring a bell.” Fury tapped the folder, and you found it instantly. Barnes, James Buchanan.

The name didn’t spark recognition, but it did send a strange ripple through your thoughts. “Why him?” you asked.

Fury shrugged. “No reason. He’s just another soldier in the unit. But don’t let that distract you. This mission isn’t about making friends, and it damn sure isn’t about saving anyone who doesn’t need saving.”

You clenched your jaw. Fury’s words were a reminder of the line you couldn’t cross. You’d trained for this moment for years, honing your skills to perfection. You were designed to be unseen, unheard, and unfelt.

Fury’s voice snapped you back. “You’ve got your orders. Do your job, Agent. Leave no trace.”

You took the dossier and the vial, tucking them away with practiced efficiency. “Understood,” you said, your voice steady, devoid of hesitation. But as you turned to leave, the familiar mantra echoed in your mind: No attachments. No connections. You’re a ghost.

Later, when you finally opened the dossier, your eyes landed on a photograph. Barnes. The name was familiar, but it wasn’t until you stared at his face that something inside you stirred. A strange sense of recognition flickered in the back of your mind. You knew him—or at least, it felt like you did.

You flipped the page, your pulse quickening as more details came into view. And then, you saw it.

The Winter Soldier.

The words stared back at you, cold and unfeeling, but they sparked a storm of emotions you weren’t prepared for. You knew the name, of course. Everyone in this business did. The ghost story whispered in shadows, the assassin whose presence was felt long after he disappeared into the night. But what you didn’t know was the man behind it.

Your gaze drifted back to the photograph, and for a moment, everything else fell away. His eyes. Even through the grainy black-and-white image, they stood out—haunted, distant, yet somehow familiar. There was innocence there, a quiet humanity buried beneath the weight of the darkness he would come to bear.

You tightened your grip on the file, your knuckles whitening. Ghosts weren’t meant to feel, and yet here you were, shaken by a face from the past you couldn’t place but somehow couldn’t forget.

Flipping through the pages, you scanned his history—Brooklyn, 1941, the 107th Infantry. Your breath caught as more images filled the pages. Pictures of him before he became the Winter Soldier: laughing with other soldiers, standing beside a scrawny young man labeled Steve Rogers, of course you knew him as Captain America but no one would ever know you. Then, the darker photos followed. HYDRA. The experiments. The cold, dead stare of a man who had been stripped of everything.

The door to your quarters slid shut with a soft hiss, and for a moment, the silence was almost suffocating. You placed the dossier and the small vial of glowing blue liquid on the steel table in front of you. The mission parameters were clear, the risks higher than usual, but none of that was new. You’d done this before, moving through missions like a shadow, leaving no trace. Yet, something about this one felt… different. Heavier.

You sat down, the cold metal of the chair grounding you. Flicking open the dossier, you reviewed the details again, committing every piece of information to memory. Maps, personnel lists, cover identities. You’d be stationed as a nurse in a field hospital near the front lines. A perfect cover for blending in. Your forged papers were flawless, down to the tiniest detail.

Your name was different now. Your past erased, rewritten to fit the narrative of a 1940s nurse.

Ghosts didn’t get attached. Ghosts didn’t feel. You weren’t there to alter history or forge connections. Your mission was simple: retrieve the files, destroy them if necessary, and get out.

You pushed the dossier aside and picked up the vial, turning it over in your hands. The blue liquid shimmered faintly, a reminder of the power it held. Time travel was a delicate operation, one that required precision and absolute control. There was no room for error.

You placed the vial carefully into the injector and secured it around your wrist. The faint hum of the device powering up was the only sound in the room.

Your internal monologue began to surface, unbidden.

You weren’t supposed to be here, not in this timeline, not in their world. You’d been forged in the Red Room, molded into an instrument of precision and silence. SHIELD had found you, given you purpose beyond the shadows of your past, but you had never stepped into the light. You were designed to operate in the margins of history, invisible to the heroes who saved the world.

It hurt thinking of Natasha, her voice, her presence in the Red Room. She had been a beacon of strength. But she had walked away from that world, found a new family. You? You remained in the shadows, bound to missions that no one could know about, missions that didn’t exist on paper. You didn't exist on paper.

You stood and approached the small mirror on the wall. The face staring back at you was calm, unyielding. But behind your eyes, you could see the tension creeping in.

You’re not doing this for glory or recognition. You’re doing this because you’re the only one who can.

You reached for the pack of clothing and equipment laid out on the nearby table. The nurse’s uniform was meticulously crafted, down to the period-accurate buttons and insignia. As you slipped into the attire, you felt yourself becoming the role. The transformation was seamless, automatic, a ritual that pulled you deeper into the identity you were about to assume.

Finally, you secured the last piece: a silver locket around your neck. Inside was a tiny microchip, a piece of technology far beyond anything the 1940s could comprehend. It was your failsafe, your tether back to the present.

A soft chime from the injector reminded you it was time. You glanced around the room, taking in every detail, knowing this might be the last familiar sight you’d see for a while. Then, you pressed the button on your wrist.

The world around you began to shift, colors bleeding into one another as time folded in on itself. Your heart pounded, but your expression remained stoic. You’d trained for this, prepared for every contingency. You were ready.

As the light around you intensified, your final thought was simple, resolute: You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

And then, the world snapped into focus, and you were standing in a field hospital in 1941, the distant sound of artillery fire echoing through the air.

The mission had begun.

The salty breeze off the English Channel carried the smell of sea and steel, a sharp reminder of the battles waged across its waters. You stood at the edge of the field hospital camp, the makeshift tents and wooden crates around you blending into the mud-soaked earth. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows as the air grew cooler.

From where you were stationed, you could see the transport ship docking at the pier. Its hulking frame loomed against the gray sky, the gangplank lowering with a heavy groan. One by one, soldiers began to disembark, their boots clanging against the metal as they descended.

You were trained to observe, to analyze every detail without drawing attention to yourself. These men were exhausted, their faces grim and hardened by the horrors they had faced. Their uniforms were wrinkled and stained, helmets tilted at weary angles. They moved like a unit, but each step spoke of personal battles, of stories carried in silence.

You stayed rooted in place, your nurse’s uniform a perfect blend of authority and anonymity. A clipboard in your hand gave you an excuse to linger, but no one paid you much mind. This was war. You were just another face in the chaos.

Your eyes scanned the line of soldiers disembarking, cataloging them with practiced precision. You were supposed to be looking for weaknesses, details that might help you blend in more effectively. But then, your gaze landed on one man.

He walked with a quiet confidence, his posture upright despite the weight of fatigue. Dark hair peeked out from beneath his helmet, and his steel-blue eyes scanned the camp with a soldier’s wariness. His face was sharp, shadowed by stubble, but it was his expression that caught you—equal parts focused and distant, as if he were both here and somewhere far away.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You knew his name, knew his story—or at least, the parts that history would remember… the parts in the folder. But standing here now, seeing him in the flesh, was something else entirely. He wasn’t just a name in a dossier or a ghost from the past. He was real, and the weight of that realisation hit you like a wave.

I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night.

His arrival had stirred something deep within you, something you couldn’t explain.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. Your mission was clear: stay invisible, complete the task, and leave. No deviations, no entanglements. But as you watched him, your chest tightened with an inexplicable pull. There was something about him, something magnetic.

Bucky paused near the base of the gangplank, helping another soldier with a crate of supplies. His voice was low, his words lost in the din of the camp, but the kindness in his gestures was unmistakable. He was a soldier, yes, but there was a warmth to him, a spark of humanity that hadn’t been extinguished by war.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing on the clipboard in your hand. Stay sharp. Stay focused. You couldn’t afford distractions, not here, not now.

And yet, your eyes betrayed you, flickering back to him as he moved through the camp, his presence impossible to ignore. You told yourself it was just curiosity, a natural reaction to seeing someone you’d only read about.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like to speak to him, to share even a fraction of the weight you carried. But the thought was fleeting, quickly buried beneath the weight of your training.

You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

The smell of antiseptic and damp canvas filled the air as you moved between the rows of cots in the makeshift medical tent. Their arrival—was what you’d been waiting for.

You were focused on checking supplies when a familiar commotion at the tent entrance caught your attention. A group of soldiers sauntered in, their uniforms caked in dirt and their faces shadowed with fatigue. Among them was a man who immediately stood out. His dark hair curled slightly at the ends, his blue eyes bright despite the grime smeared across his face. He carried himself with an easy confidence, even as he favoured one leg.

Your mission dossier hadn’t prepared you for the sheer presence of him.

As the soldiers dispersed to their assigned cots, he made a beeline for you. His limp was subtle but noticeable, and despite yourself, your training kicked in.

“Take a seat,” you said, your voice steady as you gestured to an empty cot. “I’ll take a look at that leg.”

Bucky flashed a crooked smile, his eyes sweeping over you with interest. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice smooth, tinged with the faintest Brooklyn accent. “And here I thought this camp was all bad news.”

You arched an eyebrow, setting down your clipboard. “Flattery won’t get you out of a medical exam, Sergeant Barnes.”

His grin widened as he sat down, wincing slightly. “So, you know my name. That’s a good start. What do I call you, Nurse…?”

You hesitated for half a second, then gave him your cover name. “Nurse Johnson.”

“Well, Nurse Johnson,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “if I’d known there were nurses like you out here, I’d have gotten shot a long time ago.”

You gave him a pointed look, crouching in front of him to roll up the tattered leg of his uniform. “Let’s try to avoid that, shall we?”

Bucky’s laugh was soft but genuine, his gaze never leaving your face. “You’re all business, huh?”

You pressed lightly on his shin, watching for a reaction. “Someone has to be. Looks like you’ve got a nasty sprain, but nothing’s broken.”

“Guess I’ll live to fight another day,” he said, wincing slightly as you adjusted his leg.

“Barely,” you muttered, grabbing a bandage from your kit. As you wrapped his leg, you could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his attention almost unnerving.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, his tone playful but curious.

"Thats the line you're gonna go with?" The corners of your lips slightly turned as you tied off the bandage, sitting back on your heels. “Helping stubborn soldiers like you survive long enough to get home.”

Bucky chuckled, his head tilting slightly. “You got a smart mouth on you, Nurse Johnson. I like that.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and crossing your arms. “And you’ve got a sprained leg. Try not to make it worse.”

He grinned again, leaning forward slightly. “You know, if you’re ever looking for a dance partner when this war’s over, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You better. A guy like me doesn’t make that offer twice.”

Shaking your head, you gathered your supplies and turned to leave. “Try to stay out of trouble, Sergeant.”

“No promises,” he called after you, his voice warm and teasing. “But I’ll do my best if it means seeing you again.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, finding him still watching you, his smile softer now. Your mission had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

The first few days at the field hospital were a blur of motion and noise. Soldiers came in with fresh wounds, some minor, others devastating. Your hands worked tirelessly, stitching cuts, setting broken bones, administering whatever pain relief was available. You moved through it all like a machine, your focus never wavering.

You’d trained for moments like this, where life and death were separated by a thread, but this mission wasn’t about saving lives—it was about staying hidden long enough to complete your objective. The files you needed were still buried somewhere in enemy hands, and every moment you spent here was one step closer to obtaining them.

Still, blending in was vital, and that meant interacting with the men around you. They were polite, for the most part, offering nods of gratitude when you patched them up. But one soldier in particular seemed to be making it his mission to capture your attention.

“Hey, Nurse,” a familiar voice called out one evening as you worked on organizing supplies. You turned to see Bucky Barnes leaning against the frame of the medical tent, a lopsided grin on his face. “Got a minute?”

You raised an eyebrow, but kept your expression neutral. “That depends. Are you here because you need actual medical attention, or are you just bored?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Bit of both, maybe.”

You sighed, setting down the bandages you were sorting. “Let me guess—another soldier got into a scuffle and you decided to play referee?”

Bucky stepped closer, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Something like that. You know how it is. Boys will be boys.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, and despite yourself, you felt a flicker of amusement.

You crossed your arms, feigning exasperation. “Well, if you’re not bleeding, you’re wasting my time, Sergeant.”

“Ah, but see, you didn’t check.” He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Maybe I’ve got a battle wound you missed.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile threatening to break through. “If you’re trying to flirt, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Flirt? Me?” Bucky placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. “I’m just trying to keep morale up. Can’t have our best nurse getting all serious on us.”

“Best nurse?” You arched an eyebrow. “You’ve known me for all of three days, Barnes.”

“Three days is all I need,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. “I’ve got a good eye for people.”

You turned back to your supplies, determined to maintain your composure. “Well, maybe you should use that good eye to look out for your men instead of distracting me.”

Bucky chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “I do that too. Multitasking, you know?”

You shot him a pointed look, but before you could respond, another soldier poked his head into the tent, interrupting the moment. “Sarge, we’ve got a situation by the south perimeter.”

Bucky’s demeanour shifted instantly, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by sharp focus. He gave you a quick nod, then turned to follow the soldier out.

“Don’t work too hard, doll,” he called over his shoulder as he left. “Wouldn’t want you wearing yourself out.”

You shook your head, finally letting out a small laugh once he was gone. Bucky Barnes was trouble, that much was clear. He was charming, confident, and far too good at making you forget the rules you were supposed to live by.

But he was also a soldier, just like the rest of them. And you were here for a mission, not for him.

Stay focused, you reminded yourself, though it was getting harder with every interaction.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Bucky found every opportunity to stop by the medical tent, whether it was to check on his men or to toss a teasing remark your way. He seemed determined to pull you out of your shell, to coax a smile or a laugh from you no matter how busy or serious the day became.

One afternoon, as you were tending to a soldier with a shrapnel wound, Bucky appeared again, his presence filling the tent like sunlight cutting through a storm.

“Thought you might need some help,” he said, leaning casually against a supply crate.

You didn’t even look up. “Unless you’ve suddenly become a medic, I think I’m good.”

“Hey, I’m a fast learner,” he quipped, stepping closer. “Show me what to do, and I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had.”

You finally glanced up at him, your expression skeptical. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” He grinned, unflinching. “C’mon, Nurse. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sighed, gesturing toward the supplies. “Fine. Hand me the gauze.”

Bucky’s grin widened as he moved to your side, and for the next few minutes, he actually did as he was told, passing you tools and supplies with surprising care. But of course, it didn’t take long for him to start talking again.

“So,” he began, his tone light, “you always this serious, or is it just an act?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe I’m trying to keep certain soldiers in line.”

“Ah, so I’m a bad influence,” he teased, leaning a little closer. “Good to know.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying not to let his proximity affect you. “You’re definitely something.”

The playful banter continued, but beneath it all, you felt the weight of unspoken truths. Every moment with Bucky was a reminder of what you couldn’t have, of the life you were just passing through. But for now, in the fleeting quiet of the field hospital, you allowed yourself to enjoy his presence.

Just for a little while.

The sun was setting, painting the horizon in hues of gold and crimson. The camp had grown quieter, the hum of daily activity fading as the soldiers took what little rest they could before nightfall. You were sitting on a wooden crate just outside the medical tent, enjoying a rare moment of stillness. A cup of lukewarm coffee sat in your hands, its warmth a small comfort against the cool evening air.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Mind if I join you?” Bucky’s voice was softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.

You glanced at him, your heart giving a small, inexplicable flutter. “It’s a free camp,” you said, gesturing to the crate beside you.

Bucky sat down with a tired sigh, his helmet resting on his lap. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling comfortably between you. He looked different in the fading light—less like the cocky sergeant who flirted with you during the day and more like the weary soldier you knew he was. His eyes were distant, reflecting the weight of battles fought and losses endured.

“You don’t talk much about yourself,” he said after a while, his voice thoughtful. “Most of the nurses here, they talk about home, family. You… you’re a mystery.”

You kept your gaze on the horizon, your grip tightening slightly on the cup. “Maybe I just don’t have much to tell.”

“Everyone’s got a story,” he countered, glancing at you. “Even ghosts.”

Your heart skipped at the word, but you kept your expression neutral. “Ghosts don’t have stories. They just… exist.”

Bucky frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Is that what you think you are? A ghost?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his insight. He was perceptive, more than you’d expected. Finally, you spoke, your voice low. “I’ve spent a long time learning how to disappear. It’s easier that way.”

Bucky studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. “Easier, maybe. But doesn’t it get lonely?”

You swallowed hard. “Loneliness is part of the job.”

He shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “Doesn’t have to be.”

You turned to look at him then, your eyes meeting his. There was no teasing now, no flirtation. Just quiet sincerity. It made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I don’t really have anyone to talk about,” you admitted after a moment. “No family, not that I remember. My parents… I don’t even know their names.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his eyes filled with empathy. “Were you… a orphan?”

You hesitated, the term feeling both accurate and not. “Something like that. I was raised by people who didn’t care about who I was, only what I could do for them.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you’d intended, but Bucky didn’t shy away from them. His gaze softened further, and he nodded slowly. “That’s a hell of a way to grow up,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, trying to deflect the weight of the conversation. “It made me good at what I do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his voice tinged with something that sounded like regret. “But it doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

You looked away, unsure how to respond. Empathy wasn’t something you were used to, especially not from someone like him—someone who seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, even in the middle of a war.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You remind me of someone.”

You glanced at him, curious. “Who?”

“Steve,” he said with a small, fond smile. “He didn’t have much either. His mom passed not too long ago, and his dad when we were kids. But it's always been just him one way or another just fighting to survive in Brooklyn. Always getting picked on because he’s small, but he never gave up. He had this stubborn streak, always standing up for people, even when it got him into trouble.”

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You knew his story, but hearing Bucky talk about him like this—like he was just Steve, not a legend, because to this Bucky he wasn’t one yet—it painted a different picture.

“Must’ve been tough,” you said softly.

Bucky nodded. “It was. But he never let it break him. That’s just who he is.” He paused, his smile growing a little. “He can't throw a rock without wheezing but he never let that and will never let that stop him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the warmth in Bucky’s voice cutting through the weight of the conversation.

“He’s lucky to have you,” you said.

Bucky looked at you, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I’m lucky to have him too. He’s always been there, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The vulnerability in his words mirrored your own, and for a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared pasts hanging between you.

Bucky reached out then, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re not as invisible as you think,” he said softly. “Not to me…I see you Nurse, and the view is amazing”

The camp was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that preceded something terrible. The usual hum of activity had slowed, and even the soldiers seemed more on edge. You felt it too—the tension in the air, the weight of something approaching.

You were in the medical tent, organising supplies when the call came.

“Enemy movement spotted near the south perimeter!” a soldier shouted as he rushed past. “They’re coming!”

Your heart dropped. You knew this moment was inevitable. The enemy had been closing in for days, and now they were here. But it wasn’t just the impending battle that had your stomach in knots. It was the mission—the files.

You quickly grabbed your hidden satchel from beneath your cot. Inside were the tools you’d need to breach the Nazi stronghold, which was now dangerously close to enemy lines. You’d been waiting for this opportunity, but it was coming at the worst possible time. The camp was about to become a battlefield, and every second counted.

Before you could slip away, Bucky stormed into the tent, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his face set in a grim expression.

“There you are,” he said, his eyes scanning you quickly, as if ensuring you were unharmed. “They’ve called all hands. It’s gonna get rough out there.”

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He frowned, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as you tightened the straps on your satchel. “I’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing. “What’s in the bag?”

You froze for a split second, but it was enough for him to notice.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I can’t explain right now. I just… I have to go.”

His jaw tightened. “Go? Where? The perimeter’s crawling with enemy troops, and you’re talking about running off?”

You stepped past him, but he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. “Talk to me,” he pleaded. “You’ve been keeping secrets since the day you got here. Please, dont do this….What’s really going on?”

You hesitated, the weight of your mission crashing down on you. Bucky wasn’t supposed to know. No one was. But in this moment, with his piercing gaze locked onto yours, you realized you couldn’t just walk away without saying something.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you said quietly. “I’m not just a nurse. I’m here on a mission.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed “A mission?” confusion and concern mixing in his expression. “What kind of mission?”

You glanced around, ensuring no one else was within earshot. “I can’t tell you everything. But there’s something I need to retrieve from the enemy. It’s vital.”

His grip on your arm tightened slightly. “You’re planning to go out there alone?”

“I have to,” you said, your voice firm. “This is what I was sent here to do.”

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you even have backup?”

“No,” you admitted. “This mission is off the books.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he exhaled sharply. “That’s insane. You can’t go out there alone.”

“I’ve done it before,” you said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll be fine.”

But Bucky wasn’t convinced. “Not this time,” he said, his voice resolute. “I’m coming with you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped you. He wasn’t going to let you go alone.

“Bucky—”

“No,” he interrupted. “You don’t get to push me away now. If this is as important as you say it is, then you’re gonna need someone watching your back.”

You hesitated, torn between the mission and the growing connection you felt with him. Bringing Bucky along wasn’t part of the plan, but the truth was, you knew he was right. The enemy would be everywhere, and the odds of surviving alone were slim.

“Fine,” you said finally. “But you follow my lead. No questions.”

He gave you a small, determined nod. “Deal.”

Together, you slipped out of the tent and into the night, the distant sound of gunfire growing louder with each step. The mission was about to reach its breaking point, and so was your fragile trust in Bucky.

But there was no turning back now.

The camp was already descending into chaos by the time you and Bucky slipped through the south perimeter. Gunfire echoed in the distance, mingling with the shouts of soldiers and the thunderous roar of artillery. The enemy was closing in fast, and every second felt like borrowed time.

You led the way, keeping low as you navigated the uneven terrain. Bucky followed close behind, his rifle at the ready, his eyes scanning for threats. The weight of your satchel bounced against your side, a constant reminder of the mission’s stakes.

“Where exactly are we going?” Bucky asked in a hushed voice as you reached a narrow trail leading toward the enemy-occupied forest.

“There’s a stronghold about a mile from here,” you replied, keeping your voice low. “That’s where they’re keeping the files.”

He gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “And how do you know this?”

You hesitated. “Let’s just say I have access to intel most people don’t.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine. I’ll trust you.”

The tension between you was palpable, but there was no time to unpack it. You pressed on, the shadows of the trees swallowing you both as you moved deeper into enemy territory.

The stronghold loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. It was an old stone fortress, fortified with barbed wire and patrolled by armed guards. You and Bucky crouched behind a cluster of bushes, observing the layout.

“Two guards at the main entrance,” Bucky whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “And a patrol circling every few minutes.”

You nodded, scanning the area. “There’s a side entrance near the east wall. It’s less guarded, but we’ll have to time it perfectly.”

Bucky smirked slightly. “You’ve done this before.”

“More times than I care to admit,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the patrols. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Together, you moved swiftly and silently, sticking to the shadows. When the patrol passed, you darted toward the east wall, Bucky covering your six. The side entrance was a narrow metal door, rusted and worn. You pulled a small device from your satchel, a compact tool designed to pick even the most secure locks. Within seconds, the door clicked open.

“Impressive,” Bucky murmured as you slipped inside.

You gave him a quick look. “Focus.”

Inside, the stronghold was cold and dimly lit, the corridors eerily quiet. You navigated the labyrinthine hallways with precision, your memory of the layout guiding you. Bucky stayed close, his rifle raised and ready.

Finally, you reached a secured room at the end of a long hallway. A heavy steel door stood between you and your objective.

“This is it,” you whispered, pulling out another device from your satchel. It was a miniature explosive, designed to breach the door without causing a large-scale alert.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “You really came prepared.”

“Like I said,” you replied, placing the explosive, “I’ve done this before.”

The device beeped softly as you set the timer. “Stand back.”

The explosion was quick and precise, the door blasting inward with minimal noise. You and Bucky rushed inside, your eyes immediately scanning the room. It was filled with filing cabinets and stacks of documents, the enemy’s plans meticulously organized.

You went to work, quickly locating the files you needed. As you stuffed them into your satchel, Bucky kept watch by the door.

“So this is what all the secrecy was about?” he asked, his voice low but tense.

“These files could change everything,” you said, your hands moving quickly. “If they fall into the wrong hands, it could shift the balance of power for decades.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “Then we make sure they don’t.”

Just as you secured the last of the files, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Time to go,” Bucky said, his grip tightening on his rifle.

You nodded, and together you slipped out of the room, moving quickly and quietly through the stronghold. But as you reached the exit, the footsteps grew louder, closer. The guards were on high alert now.

“We’re not gonna make it out the way we came,” Bucky muttered, his eyes scanning for another escape route.

You pointed to a nearby staircase. “There’s a secondary exit through the upper level. It leads to the roof.”

Bucky nodded, and the two of you raced up the stairs, your boots barely making a sound on the worn stone steps. At the top, you found the door to the roof. It was locked, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. He slammed his shoulder into it, forcing it open with a grunt.

The night air hit you like a wall as you stepped onto the roof. Below, the camp was in chaos, enemy soldiers scrambling in response to the breach.

“There,” Bucky said, pointing to a nearby tree line. “We jump, head for cover.”

You hesitated, the drop from the roof to the ground far from ideal. But there was no time to argue. With a nod, you followed Bucky as he leapt, landing with a roll in the soft dirt below. You hit the ground a moment later, pain shooting through your legs as you landed hard but kept moving.

Together, you sprinted toward the trees, gunfire erupting behind you. Bullets whizzed past, but you didn’t stop, adrenaline driving you forward. Finally, you reached the cover of the forest, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter.

Once you were safely concealed among the trees, you collapsed against a trunk, your breath coming in heavy gasps. Bucky crouched beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of pursuit.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, clutching the satchel tightly. “Mission accomplished.”

Bucky gave a small, breathless laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You met his gaze, the tension of the moment fading slightly as his familiar smirk returned. “So are you, Sergeant.”

Despite the danger, despite everything, you felt a flicker of warmth between you. The mission had tested both your resolve and your connection, but you’d made it out together. And somehow, that made all the difference.

The firelight flickered across the camp, casting long shadows as the remnants of the battle settled into an uneasy calm. You and Bucky sat on the edge of the forest, just beyond the perimeter, hidden from sight. The distant sound of gunfire and shouting had finally faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the night.

The stolen Nazi files were secure in your satchel, now buried beneath layers of medical supplies. You’d succeeded in your mission, but the cost weighed heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky sat beside you, silent for a long time. His rifle was propped against a tree, his hands resting on his knees. The tension between you had shifted—no longer marked by suspicion but by a shared understanding.

“You really weren’t kidding about being a ghost,” he said eventually, his voice low and thoughtful.

You glanced at him, the flickering firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. “I told you it was important.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. But you didn’t tell me everything.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of frustration. “Because you didn’t trust me?”

“It’s not about trust,” you said quietly, your fingers tightening around the satchel. “It’s about the mission. It’s about keeping things safe.”

Bucky frowned, his gaze searching your face. “Safe from what?”

You hesitated, carefully choosing your words. “From things that could change everything if they’re not handled right.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the soldier in him catching on to the weight behind your statement. “Sounds like more than just some stolen files.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky was silent for a moment, processing your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with awe and concern. “And you’ve been doing this alone?”

“It’s what I was trained for,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “No attachments, no distractions. Just the mission.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “That’s no way to live.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “It’s the only way I know.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re more than just a mission, you know. You’ve got a life, a soul. You can’t keep shutting people out.”

Your chest tightened at his words. For so long, you’d lived in the shadows, carrying the burden of your missions alone. But now, sitting here with Bucky, you felt the cracks in your armor growing wider.

“I’m not supposed to get attached,” you said quietly. “It makes things complicated.”

Bucky gave a small, rueful smile. “Too late for that….”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a surge of emotion, a mix of fear and longing. You’d spent years building walls, but Bucky Barnes was breaking through them with every shared glance, every quiet moment.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s hand stayed on yours, steady and grounding. His touch was gentle, but there was strength behind it, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t used to.

“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, you know?” his voice soft but resolute. “I’m in this.”

You looked down at your joined hands, the firelight reflecting off his metal fingers. It felt like he was holding more than just your hand—like he was holding the weight of everything you’d been carrying for so long.

“I’ve never had this before,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what it’s like to lean on someone, to let someone in.”

Bucky’s thumb traced small, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “It’s not easy,” he admitted. “But it’s worth it. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the vulnerability of the moment making your chest ache. “What if I’m not good at it? What if I mess this up?”

Bucky leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “You won’t. And even if you stumble, I’ll be right here. We’ll figure it out together.”

His words broke through the last of your defenses, and a tear slipped down your cheek. Bucky’s other hand came up, his thumb gently wiping it away. His touch was so tender, it made your heart ache even more.

“You’ve been through so much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “Bucky…”

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “Just let me be here for you.”

The two of you sat there in silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. The world outside the camp seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the quiet comfort of the moment.

After a while, you finally spoke, your voice barely audible. “You’ve made me feel something I didn’t think I could feel.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “What’s that?”

“Hope,” you said, the word feeling both fragile and powerful.

His lips curved into a soft, bittersweet smile. “Then we’ve got something to hold on to.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft and tentative, a promise of something deeper. When you pulled back, his eyes were shining, and you could see the depth of his feelings mirrored in them.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “One step at a time.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. “Together.”

Bucky squeezed your hand, his warmth chasing away the chill of the night. “Together,” he echoed.

And in that moment, with the firelight flickering around you and the weight of your shared pasts slowly lifting, you believed him.

In the days following the mission, the dynamic between you and Bucky began to change. There was a newfound understanding between you, a quiet bond forged in the heat of battle and the weight of shared secrets.

Bucky became more protective, often finding excuses to check in on you, whether it was during your rounds at the medical tent or when you were working alone. His teasing remarks were still there, but they were softer now, laced with genuine care.

You found yourself leaning on him more, allowing him into the parts of your life you’d always kept hidden. And despite the danger, despite the mission’s stakes, you had the files you could go back now and have exiled beating your initial time, but you stayed you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding onto.

But in the back of your mind, you knew the clock was ticking. The mission was complete, and soon, you’d have to leave this time, this world—and Bucky—behind.

The glow of the fire illuminated the night, the crackle the only sound cutting through. Most of the camp had settled in for the evening, but you and Bucky remained near the fire, sitting side by side on a fallen log. The warm glow danced across his face, softening the sharp angles and making his eyes shimmer like the stars above.

Bucky leaned back slightly, resting his arm along the log behind you. “So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked with a playful smirk, his voice low and smooth.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Really? That’s the line you’re going with….again?”

He grinned, his teeth catching the firelight. “What can I say? I’m trying to impress the mysterious nurse who keeps patching me up .”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get on my good side.”

“Is it working?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Maybe.”

Bucky’s grin softened into something more sincere. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the weight of the war, the mission, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, suspended in this fleeting moment of peace.

He reached up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured.

You felt your breath catch, your pulse quickening. “Bucky…”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re strong, smart, brave… and you’ve got this way of making me forget everything else, even when the world’s falling apart.”

His words broke through the walls you’d spent years building. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, and he met you halfway. His lips were warm and soft against yours, the kiss tender but filled with a quiet intensity. Time seemed to stop as the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady beat of his heart.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were wet with tears. Bucky frowned, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Bucky’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your cheeks. “Then let me show you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his own tears on his waterline threatening to spill. “Stay. Please stay, for me.”

Your heart shattered at his plea. The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet desperation in his voice—it was almost too much to bear. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew the mission, the weight of your responsibilities, and the secrets you carried. You’d always been a ghost, moving through life without leaving traces behind. How could you let yourself stay, knowing the danger you brought with you?

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, his hands dropping slightly. “Why not? What’s stopping you?”

You looked away, tears streaming down your face. “Because… I don’t get to have this,” you said quietly. “People like me… we don’t get happy endings.”

Bucky stared at you, his jaw tightening. “That’s bullshit,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You deserve this just as much as anyone else.”

You shook your head, your hands trembling. “You don’t understand—if I stay, things could fall apart. I’m not meant to… to put down roots. To belong.”

Bucky reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “If that’s what you’ve been told, they’re wrong. You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Whatever’s weighing on you… let me help.”

You squeezed his hand, your tears falling freely now. “I wish I could. But this isn’t goodbye, Bucky. Not really.”

His grip tightened, his eyes filled with pain. “How do you know?”

You gave him a shaky smile, your heart aching. “Because feeling this… it’s the kind of thing that changes everything. No matter where life takes us, I’ll find you again. I promise.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could keep you from slipping away. His breath was warm against your hair, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the impossible. In a different world, maybe you could stay. Maybe you could let yourself love him the way you wanted to.

But for now, you clung to him, memorising the feel of his embrace, the sound of his heartbeat. This wasn’t the end. You wouldn’t let it be.

The fire burned low, its warmth fading, but neither of you moved. Instead, you lay back together on a blanket you’d pulled from the medical tent. The stars stretched endlessly above, their light soft and comforting.

Bucky shifted, his arm wrapping protectively around you as you rested your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding you in the moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice breaking the silence.

“When I was a kid, Steve and I used to sneak up onto the roof of our building,” he said quietly. “We’d lie there, looking at the stars, talking about all the things we were gonna do someday.”

You smiled faintly, imagining a pre-serum Steve beside him, small but full of fight. “What did you talk about?”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and fond. “Steve always had big dreams. He wanted to do something that mattered. Join the army, help people, change the world.” He paused, his voice softening. “Didn’t care that he was too small, too sick. He just wanted to be better, to do better.”

You closed your eyes, the image of Steve Rogers—Captain America—so different now. But to Bucky, he was still that skinny kid with more heart than anyone.

“And what about you?” you asked gently.

Bucky hesitated, his hand absently tracing small circles on your shoulder. “Me? I just wanted to keep him safe. Steve’s always been the brave one. I just… I wanted to make sure he didn’t get himself killed chasing those dreams.”

His words were filled with so much quiet love, it made your heart ache. You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

Bucky smiled, his hand brushing over your hair. “Maybe. But I think you’re the brave one here.”

You rested your head against his chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. “We both are.”

The silence stretched once more, comfortable and grounding. The crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of the camp blended with the soft rustle of the trees.

Bucky’s voice broke the stillness. “Did you have someone like that?” he asked, his tone thoughtful. “A sibling? A close friend?”

You paused, your mind drifting back. “I didn’t have siblings,” you said slowly. “But I had a friend. Her name’s Natasha.” You smiled softly at the memory, though a hint of sadness crept into your voice. “She was like a sister to me. Strong, stubborn, always looking out for me.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “She sounds like someone you could count on.��

“She was,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “We went through a lot together, but… I haven’t seen her in years.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Think you’ll see her again?”

You stared up at the stars, your heart heavy with longing. “I hope so. But with the way things are… who knows?”

Bucky nodded, his thumb brushing over your arm in a soothing motion. “If she’s anything like you, she’s still out there, fighting her own battles. And when the time’s right, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

You swallowed hard, his words offering a comfort you didn’t realize you needed. “I hope you’re right.”

The two of you fell into silence again, but it wasn’t empty. The weight of your shared stories, your losses and hopes, filled the space between you.

As the night deepened, you knew this moment wouldn’t last forever. But for now, you let yourself have it, holding onto Bucky like he was your anchor in a storm you couldn’t escape. Beneath the stars, in the quiet of the night, the war and the mission felt distant, like a different world entirely.

You stood near the edge of the camp, the glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the field. The soldiers of the 107th were regrouping, preparing to move out. You spotted Bucky in the distance, his silhouette unmistakable as he spoke with his men. His voice was calm, commanding, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was ready for the next fight, even if his heart wasn’t.

And so were you.

You adjusted the strap of your satchel, your fingers brushing over the hidden compartment containing the files. This would be your last night here. By dawn, you’d be gone, pulled back to the time you belonged. Everything you’d built here—every connection, every moment—would be left behind.

But Bucky.

He made his way toward you, each step heavy with the knowledge of what was about to happen. When he stopped in front of you, the space between you felt impossibly small yet vast, like an ocean you were both struggling to cross.

“You’re leaving,” he said, his voice low, not a question but a statement, tinged with quiet resignation.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I have to.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with emotions he wasn’t voicing. He looked down for a moment, then slowly reached up, pulling something from around his neck. His dog tags caught the fading light as they dangled from his fingers, the metal clinking softly.

He held them out to you, his hand steady even as his voice wavered. “Take these.”

You stared at the tags, your heart twisting. “Bucky, I can’t—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours. “I want you to have them, please”

You hesitated, the weight of the moment settling over you. These weren’t just tags. They were a piece of him, a symbol of his identity, of the man he was here and now. Taking them felt like crossing a line you weren’t sure you could bear.

But when you looked into his eyes, the quiet plea there shattered any resistance you had. Slowly, you reached out and took the tags, the cool metal pressing into your palm. Your fingers curled around them tightly, as if holding onto them would somehow keep him closer.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky gave a small, sad smile, his hand brushing against yours briefly before he let it fall. “Just… promise me you won’t forget.”

Your chest tightened, tears welling in your eyes. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with everything you couldn’t say. You wanted to tell him how much he meant to you, how this short time together had changed something inside you. But the words stuck in your throat, buried under the weight of your mission and the future you knew awaited him.

Bucky reached up, gently cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “You’ve been trained to disappear,” he said softly, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But not from me.”

You choked back a sob, your hands gripping the dog tags like a lifeline. “I’ve never had this before,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

His hand slipped down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Then don’t,” he whispered, begging one last time. “Stay. Please. Stay for me.”

Your heart broke at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through every defense you had left. But you knew you couldn’t. Staying here would risk everything—the mission, the future, his life.

“I can’t,” you said, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but you know I can’t.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on your hand, his eyes searching yours for something, anything to hold onto. “Why?” he asked, his voice raw. “Why does it have to be like this?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Because this isn’t my time, this isn’t our time” you said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, to beg you to stay again. But instead, he nodded slowly, his hand lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer.

“Then I’ll wait,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “No matter how long it takes.”

Tears streamed down your face as you gave him a shaky smile. “You won’t have to wait forever.”

With one last, lingering glance, Bucky leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips, the steady presence of his touch, imprinted itself in your memory, a moment you knew you’d carry with you for the rest of your life.

When he pulled back, he let his hand fall, his eyes never leaving yours. “Take care of yourself doll,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You too,” you whispered, clutching the dog tags close to your heart.

And then, with every ounce of strength you had left, you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back, knowing that if you did, you might never be able to leave. But with every step, the weight of his dog tags in your hand was a promise—a tether that would guide you back to him.

I could feel you sneaking in, As if you were a mythical thing

[dicapiito]

Since Black People share zero blame about what happened in the election and why Trump won again; let’s do a master post on who’s to blame as to why Trump won again:

1. White people. They are never to be trusted to actually pay attention to shit so they will believe anything anyone tells them to. If someone is promising to get rid of anyone who’s not white; white people will vote for that candidate. White men vote for violence and white women vote in hopes to be like white men. I mean, Roe V Wade SHOULDVE been important …until I remember those stories from nurses at Planned Parenthood mentioning how obnoxious white women are about the service. White people who are actual allies are very rare and they know if they admitted to being hateful; they’d be all alone watching Fox News.

2. The mainstream media. MSNBC, CNN, Bill Maher, John Oliver, Jon Stewart ( the biggest douchefuck), Chris Hayes, Anderson Cooper, Joy Reid, among others (who I can’t name because I refuse to hate-watch their media). They spent all their fucking time bashing Biden and the Democrats. They let the lunatic leftists have a platform and they treated Trump like he’s no threat until it was way too late. They figured it’s better for their audiences to not take what Trump did in 2016-2020 seriously and just be mean towards Biden, Harris and the Democrats who actually work towards better.

Any one of these jokers could’ve taken an actual stand and report actual news about Biden but once Covid got calmer thanks to Biden and the White House became boring again because the Biden Administration was busy ACTUALLY WORKING; it just wasn’t enough for them. Once they knew leftists also found another cause they could hijack for themselves to “ stick it to the Dems” they also let these fuckers on their show to help spread more lies about the Democrats. But nope! They latched onto the “ Free Palestine” movement and sold that shit, knowing full fuckin well that it’s not America’s problem about the conflict and Biden and Harris were making sure to get a two state solution.

Their buyers remorse media is not cute and they are only doing this because they know they are a major reason why Trump won again. They’re also scared of retaliation so they’re going to act like they “ regretted it” and that Biden “ wasn’t so bad” while not ever really apologetic but their audiences will eat it up.

3. Nonblack PoC. Latino, Asian/ Pacific Islander community ( I’m not even shocked. I’m apart of this group and they love antiblackness), Arab Americans ( Rashida Tlaib is antiblack but because leftists are stupid; they couldn’t see something so obvious). The desperation to be accepted by white people and also the xenophobia in all these communities had them voting for Trump. They have the “ I’m one of the good ones” mentality and well they’re about to see that antiblackness and xenophobia has screwed themselves .

4. Social media websites letting misinformation spread, and I include tumblr since yet again this happened. I appreciate that X has a community note and people tried to fight it but it was just way too great. Too many bots were getting through. Facebook, tumblr, Twitter, TikTok, likely Instagram as well. And once the elections are over; it’s like they treat the election interference shit like it didn’t happen.

5. Leftists. As usual, since they’re bored and rich, they do this protesting “ the establishment” every four years because they don’t want to pay their fair share of taxes. They went right along with the Free Palestine bullshit because it has worked for them before. Susan Sarandon , remember her? She helped fuck over 2000 as well as 2016 and let the GOP into the White House. Since leftist includes being racist/antiblack and antisemitic; it’s a great way to get more stupid white people to not vote or “ protest vote” and help the GOP win. Now that they have; we won’t see the likes of Jill Stein or any third party candidates. They are only around to help fuck over the Democrats and yet this lesson seems to have to keep being repeated and holy fuck it’s fucking annoying.

6. Nancy Pelosi. I know I haven’t said much but she wanted Biden to step down. She wanted an open Democratic primary to get a new candidate and to go right past Kamala Harris. Her bullshit has been known for awhile, especially if you live in the Bay Area. People forgot because of Covid and because of the whack job who attacked her husband. But remember; she’s also Gavin Newsom’s aunt and well…do with that what you will. If Democrats have any chance at getting their base back; Pelosi needs to step aside and let Hakeem Jeffries be Speaker. Pelosi knew damn well if it was not Kamala Harris; Black People would not show up but she is a white woman first so of course she did what she did. And for her to act like Biden was too old when she’s in the same age group was even more moronic since he won against Trump the first fuckin time

7. antisemitism also played a huge part. Remember Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff is Jewish so if it wasn’t antiblackness; antisemitism was also at play here. Even though people won’t say it just like they won’t say their true reasons why they didn’t vote for Kamala Harris. Jewish People were the only allies along with the lgbt community who overwhelmingly voted for Kamala Harris. Every group has knuckleheads but the knuckleheads were extremely smaller than everyone else.

8. The Squad members. AOC, Rashida Tlaib, Jayapal, Cori Bush, Summer Lee and Jamaal Bowman. It’s time to get rid of these idiot DSA morons and the fact that Cori Bush and Jamaal Bowman are out is awesome. They always wanted to fuck over the Democrats because they want to appear like they’re activists while they really just sell “ someday it’ll be better” while making $176K a year. They need the GOP in charge so they can coast in the House. Too bad leftists don’t get that.

So now that we all know who’s to blame; maybe now take some fuckin responsibility and hope to fucking heaven that Trump won’t have SCOTUS overturn shit but who are we kidding? With Elon Musk around; a lot of things will be rolled back but let’s see if people learn anything from it. Oh who am I kidding ?

Oh and thinking of moving to Canada? Lmao Justin Trudeau already went “ AHT AHT”. Best believe other countries are already following suit so y’all are going to be owning up to who you voted for lol.

But ya know, Biden was “ too old” and Harris was “ too joyful”

[ghostyv]

I saw the tags - I wanna know about your ocs! 👀 how many you got? Which ones your fav? Got a specific pairing (romantic or platonic)?

*deep breath* THANK YOU AAAAAA-

Okay. So. For starters, there’s Lauren Caster. She’s gone through many names bc she’s basically my self insert and I can’t seem to pick a name for myself so she’s been cycled through the name box—but she started out as Lauren caster so we stick with that(she’s also a character for a book my best friend and I are writing called Purple War, so)

Then we have Nes and Noah Caster(from the same book) They’re twin brothers who while still in the womb were cursed. Basically long story short, Lauren Caster was cursed by this woman with the intention of harming the children but it didn’t work. The boys ended up with purple(see what I did there?) splotches on their faces. Well—Nes ended up with large splotches somewhat mimicking vitiligo, and Noah ended up with millions of tiny freckles all over his face and neck and shoulders/arms(Nes is still bitter about it💀). They reside in a world where two sisters, the red queen and the blue queen, were at odds. The red queen was defeated years ago and her spirit was magically entombed in the ceiling above her throne. To summarize the book, Nes goes to steal from the royal vault, meets princess Atari(my bestie’s character. yes their names are a play on the game systems, that’s an even longer story if you wanna hear that too. It’s really really funny.) after being thrown in the dungeon, was let out and they begin to fall in love but while the two were snooping around the blue and red connected castles meant for the two queens to rule a purple kingdom together, they found the red queen’s throne room. Atari sat on it and was possessed. Where Noah comes in is he was the royal cook and helps Nes with pulling the red queen’s spirit out of atari(we haven’t completely ironed out the details of how).

The next character is also from the Purple War universe as well, and I actually have a picture of her if you scroll down to a tag game I was in, it’s on my blog. Her name is Aisling Bohdi. She’s a Dragonborn woman who’s parents were killed by a town they used to live on the outskirts on. Aisling was about 14ish when it happened, and she’d been out running errands and such in the next town over. When she returned she was chased by the townsfolk up a mountain trail and into a cave, where she lost the mob and resided for another roughly 7ish years. When she finally exited the cave, she met a man named Malek Bruce, the son of a lawyer and he actually practiced law as well, but in a falling out with his father, quit. He acts dumber than he is, and he’s got some major detective skills. Together the two end up going on a few adventures and wind up teaming up with nes, Noah and Atari to ultimately defeat the red queen in(get ready to come full circle) the Purple War(whoaaa!)

Now for someone not from purple war. Honeybee Vega. I’m extremely proud of her—and I had some art somewhere but apparently I deleted it in my desperately needed camera roll purge(I had over 65k in there dude, my storage was begging for it’s life constantly). Honeybee came from my dream smp phase(I’m aware of how cringe it is, but it got me through the hardest year of my life). She’s a humanoid honeybee with one human eye and one giant complex eye(the eyes visible on the sides of bees heads. Quick detour for a bee anatomy lesson bc they’re my favorite animals—they have two large complex eyes on the sides of their heads which humans who aren’t insane like me and love bees perceive to be their only eyes but depending on the type of bee, they can have more eyes on the top of their heads called simple eyes that are used to assist bees with sun orientation so they can navigate during the day.) anyway, she has a complex eye as well as a human one so her eyesight is very bad, bless her. I adore her, she’s one of my more visually complex characters. She also has wings, and used to be able to fly but during a war one of those wings were slashed and she was stabbed and almost died, had it not been for a friend saving her.

And that’s it! Those are my major ocs :) if I think of more I’ll add onto it.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Fifteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader AO3 - 4.7k words Tags: 18+ mdni, nurse!reader, hospital setting, domesticity, feelings of anxiety, self doubt, anxiety about sex. PTSD. Tiny bit of a panic attack. Tiny smidge of Simon's past if you know where to look. Comfort. Cockwarming. Barebacking, anal fingering, masturbation, praise kink, daddy kink. Basically the guys fuck while Bunny watches.

You’ve been having dreams about the hospital.

It’s always the same one.

You’re running a code with an intern and a fleet of baby nurses. No one is moving as fast as you are, no one is following direction. You’re on fast forward, they’re on rewind.

Every time, the dream starts and ends the same way. For some reason, you can’t see the patient’s face. You work on them for what feels like hours, and then only once it’s been called does the mental block disappear, you look down-

To see yourself.

Intubated. Bruised and broken.

Dead.

“Bunny.”

“Hmm?” You glance up across the counter, feeling the focus of Simon’s eyes before you see them.

“Everything alright?” Pen babbles ‘moremoremoremore’ while making the sign at the same time.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He mimics Penny’s sign, and then gives her a yes, spooning more yogurt into her mouth.

“You’ve been standing in the same spot for the last ten minutes, staring into your coffee.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry… I’m just a little… scatterbrained this morning.”

“Still having that dream?” It’s been a week and a half since it started, and a few days since you finally confided in Simon and Johnny it was bothering you. “Do you think it might be related to going back to work this week?” You shrug.

“Maybe? I don’t know… I’ve never dreamed of working on… myself.” His jaw flexes, and then he sighs.

“I’ve been thinking…” Penny squawks, demanding the attention of the room, and you pull some blueberries from the counter and put them on her plate. “My therapist is taking new patients. I don’t want to push you before you’re ready, but I’d like you to consider it.” The grimace slides onto your face without preamble. Sure, you’ve considered therapy in the past, but it’s a risk. Mandated reporting, paper trails, everything you don’t need.

“I don’t need therapy right now.”

“You have PTSD.” He says point blank, and you blink. Your mind fractures, little pieces twisting and turning, trying to knit together a larger picture.

“No- I- I’m not… it’s…” You’re a medical professional, don’t you know what PTSD looks like?

“It’s hard to see, in yourself.” Simon senses the confusion and tries to soothe it away, cool balm on a burn.

You suppose he’s not wrong. It’s not unrealistic, you having PTSD, but you’ve never been confronted with it. Never been forced to face the truth.

No one’s ever known you well enough, to see.

It stings. It stings for some reason, and you don’t know why.

“I’m sorry.” He stands, moving around the counter to stand in front of you. “I want to help you, bun, but I should have approached that differently.” You shake your head, relenting into the steady hand at your back, and tip your face into his chest. The confrontation of the truth aches, but there’s comfort in Simon’s touch, understanding, and you relent to it, drifting away inside his tender hold.

“What’s goin’ on?” Johnny’s close, appearing in the kitchen after sleeping in. He was deep in his own dreams when you woke up, sweet like angel in the clouds, buried in the pillows, and you couldn’t stand to wake him.

Simon rumbles something over your head. You can’t make it out, ear covered by his bicep, and you turn your head to peek, reaching for Johnny.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“Hi.”

“Why don’t ye come lay down wit’ me on the couch?” He coos, stroking a hand over your hair. “’m not quite awake yet.” Simon gives you a squeeze, and you nod.

“Yeah, okay.”

Johnny holds you close. His nose in your neck, fingertips carefully tracing over your skin, heat at your back, he calms you, comforts you, lulls your stiff muscles languid. He’s so good at it, pulling and kneading until you settle, and it dawns on you he’s had practice.

“Would you tell me about you and Simon?”

“What do ye want to know?”

“What was it like… in the beginning. When you got together.” He kneads your hip, thoughtful for a quiet moment, and then takes a deep breath.

“He was difficult. Didnae wan’ to let me in, no matter how hard I tried. Had to corner him in his room on base just to get him to kiss me.” Johnny chuckles low, rubbing your shoulder. “Took him forever, to break down, let me see him, really see him, for the first time. I had glimpses, here and there. Moments in the field, on base, at the bar with the team when we’d decompress but… it took a lot of work. He tried to push me off, hide away.”

“Why?

“It’s his story to tell ye, bunny. An’ he will, in time.” He sighs. “He’s always been like this, strong, steadfast, more serious than me, but he buried a lot of things, deep. Always was very aware of it, jus’ not willing to show it to anyone else. Wanted to be a ghost.”

“But… he’s okay."

“He’s okay. Has some moments where he gets lost, still, but works through ‘em, wit’ me or on his own.” He kisses your neck, soft enough to tickle, and you shiver. “He’s really good at this, bein’ a da, takin’ care of a family. Treats us all like his little unit. I miss him too much when ‘m away. Pen too.”

“I’m sure.” His lips graze your shoulder, humming.

“An’ ye. When I go back, I’ll be thinkin’ of ye all the time.” When he goes back. The idea is chilling, a douse of cold water. It’s felt so far away, the idea of Johnny returning to his job, the thing that brought you to him in the first place.

“But that won’t be for a while, right? I mean, you’re still healing.”

“It won’t be for a while.” He assures, though there’s something in his voice, pinched and pained. You don’t ask, don’t push, choosing to close your eyes instead, nestled in his arms, safe.

“This is the worst.” You’re whining. You know you’re whining, know you sound like a child, but it spills out of you without stopping.

“I know sweetheart.” Simon screws the cap onto a travel mug, giving you a sympathetic smile. They’re both up with you, before the sun, listening to you moan.

You shouldn’t be going to work at this hour. You should be awake, puttering around, working your rhythm back to normal, getting oriented to working at night.

You’ve never hated your manager more. She insisted she was sorry, that she had no choice but to fill the overnight shift. She assumed, she said, the new nurse would want to go to days when you got back, but she’s taken a liking to it.

She’s taken your shift.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad? An’ ye’ll see me tomorrow when I come in for therapy.” That is an upside at least, knowing you’ll be able to see him, see them both, at work.

But the rest of it, simply put, sucks.

“We should probably get going.” Simon kisses Johnny goodbye, and you’re drawn to them, sidling up in their orbit. Johnny wraps an arm around you, mouth to your temple.

“Have a good first day back, bunny. I’ll be thinking of ye.” You turn, grazing your lips on his, and he seals the kiss, drenching it in care, sweetness.

“Bye.”

Simon walks you all the way to the door.

Your resistance at the initial idea slowly fades as the sun peeks over the city. It’s different with Simon at your side, the paranoia and rampant fear infecting the atmosphere wherever you go is farther away.

You trust him. You’re starting to believe they may be able to keep you safe.

He holds your hand for most of the trip.

It’s… nice. Once you make it to the door, he turns and tucks his fingers under your chin, holding your gaze like a magnet. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” He presses his lips to your forehead, and you lean into it, eyes closed.

“Have a good day, bunny.”

Work is absolute hell.

Dayshift is so different from nights, and you have trouble adjusting. The turnover rate at the hospital is fairly high, so when you badge in and get started, you hardly recognize anyone.

Except, Marshall.

He’s standing outside the pit when you round the corner, devilish grin aimed at one of the nurses you don’t recognize. New probably. Sheep in a lion’s den.

You clear your throat. His head snaps up.

“Well, well, well… looks who back from vacation.”

“Marshall.” You greet, barely looking at him, tapping through your tablet. “I wasn’t on vacation. I was out on medical leave. Big difference.”

“Right.” He takes you in from head to toe. “Rotator cuff, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Surgical?”

“No.” The other nurse watches you with interest, before scurrying away when a bell chimes. “Still having inappropriate relationships all over the hospital, I see.” He raises an eyebrow.

“You’re one to talk.” Ice cracks across your forced smile. He smirks. “Heard you’ve got yourself two boyfriends.” You suck your teeth. Nia.

“Considering he’s no longer my patient, it’s hardly inappropriate.” With the best timing, his phone rings, pulling his focus, and you slip away.

Fucking asshole.

Simon opens the front door for you and is careful not slam it closed.

“Penny asleep?”

“Johnny’s trying now. We’ll see if he has any luck. She’s been fightin’ it.” The kitchen smells like garlicky lemon, and you peek over his shoulder to see a large saucepan filled with linguini, capers, and shrimp. Your mouth waters.

“That smells amazing.” He takes your bag from you and hangs in on a hook from the hall tree.

“Scampi. We remembered you said it was one of your favorites, and we thought we’d spoil you a little bit. Celebrate your first day back.” Your cheeks burn hot, and to your horror, tears build up through your nose to your eyes. His brows crinkle together. “Hey, what is it?”

“That’s just… it’s really nice. You don’t have to.” Someone celebrating something with you, for you, is alien. The memories of the beginning of your relationship with Phillip are long gone, twisted and gnarled into black rot. It’s how he charmed you, wooed you, brought you closer and closer until they all but faded and you were left with only the darkness. The vice grip of his hands. His satisfied, sickening smile every time you closed your eyes.

“It’s not a ‘have to’ thing, sweetheart. We want to.” He skates his fingers over yours, pulling them to his mouth. “I know it’s hard to get used to.” You’re a little bewildered by it, the care, the consideration, even the memory of something you mentioned off hand.

“I… thank you.” He kisses your temple.

“Go shower. You smell like a hospital.”

“This was so good. Thank you again.” Your hands are woven together under your chin, rich wine sauce still present on the back of your tongue.

“Aye, thank ye.” Johnny winks at Simon, who rolls his eyes.

“Here, let me-“

“I got it.”

“No, you cooked.” You protest with a pout as they both rise.

“Johnny, sit.”

“Can wash dishes, ye know. I’m not helpless.” A sliver of twilight passes over Simon’s expression, not quite darkness but still full of a looming shadow until he sighs, relenting.

“Alright.” Your lips purse.

“What about me?”

“Ye jus’ sit on the couch and look pretty, bun. Willnae take us more than a few minutes.”

‘Just sitting on the couch’ lasts for all of five minutes before you’re antsy, rolling to your feet and padding into the kitchen.

You stop dead at the corner of the counter.

They’re making out. More than making out, Simon is swallowing Johnny’s whines with big breaths, his hand down the front of his pants. You buzz, thighs pressing together without permission, spine tingling heat awakening in your blood with zeal.

“Ah, shite-“

“Shhh. Be good.” Simon admonishes, but smiles into the kiss, wrist working a rhythm in Johnny’s sweatpants. He pulls away, chin tilted, looking down his nose with an eyebrow raised, almost condescendingly, but still grinning. “Feel good? Just need some relief?” Johnny’s moan is strangled in his throat, and you’re about to turn the corner in the shame, mortified you’re essentially spying on them, when Simon looks at you like he knows you’ve been there the whole time. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” You whimper. It slips out, unbidden, and Johnny turns, forehead pressed to Simon’s cheek. His hips are trying to jerk into the grip that has slowed, and he groans.

“Si.”

“Relax.” Simon stills him, pulling his hand free. “Maybe bunny wants to play too.” You give them a nervous smile, butterflies building in your stomach. You’re scared, there’s no other emotion to describe it. There’s fear, bad memories, anxiety building in the back of your throat, but at the same time, desire pushes you forward. You trust them, and it’s reached a critical point. You want to try.

“I… maybe if we s-started slow… I’m not sure…”

“That’s okay.” Simon coaxes, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s waist, hand splayed possessively on his stomach. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Their bed is an enchanted place.

There’s love in it, beguiling affection that transfers to you, dots down your throat to your chest, your clavicle, ass pressed into the hardened swell of Johnny’s cock.

It’s enough to strike down your fear, pry you open, lecherous want infiltrating your mind, your soul.

Their dynamic is crystal clear. Simon is natural in his mastery of both Johnny and you, the leader, the maestro. His forbearance at slowly peeling you free, layer by layer, puts you at ease, calms you enough you let him take your pants off, leaving you in only your underwear and the t shirt you put on before dinner. He folds you up against Johnny, careful to mind his sore spots, the pieces still healing, lips finding the plush fold at your ribcage.

“Sweet little bunny.” He glides careful fingertips over your panties. “Can I touch you here?” You draw a deep breath.

“Yeah.” Johnny’s lips graze your neck, and he sweep up over your belly towards your nipples, under your shirt.

“An’ can I touch ye here?”

“Mm- mhmm.” You buck into them, sensation building between your legs, lust cascading to where Simon’s fingers slip into your underwear and down the seam of your pussy.

“You’re wet, sweetheart. Is this for us?” You nod, Johnny tickling circles across your breasts, playing back and forth, pinching and stroking gently.

They’re both taking it slow, cautious, and there’s one half of you wanting to rip into them, and vice versa, while the other half is terrified. So far, the reckless abandon side is winning, but when Simon grazes over your clit, the crest of your fear bottoms out in the pit of your stomach. Johnny flexes his hips, the weight of his cock between the curve of your ass, and the combination of it, the touch now overwhelming, stream of thoughts turning panicked and unstoppable like a bolder rolling down hill, steals your breath.

In the wrong way.

“S-stop.” You freeze, immobilized, muscles turned from molten lava to stone, eyes wide, lungs rasping. Simon immediately creates distance, while Johnny jerks backward, palm steady on your shoulder, but separated otherwise.

“Ye’re alright, bunny.”

“Take a breath.” Simon coaches, maintaining eye contact, and you nod shakily, anchoring yourself to Johnny’s tender hold. You manage a breath, not so far gone you’re spiraling, and it’s deep, without a hitch or a studder. “That’s great. You’ve got it.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, disappointed. You’ve let yourself down, let them down-

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He murmurs, understanding and slow. “We’re done. There’s no rush.”

“No!” You blurt. He raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I just… I don’t want it to end I’m just not sure I can… do it.” His head tilts, surprise contained with a slow smile, and Johnny hums.

“Do ye wantae watch, pretty girl?” You nod shyly.

“Is that… is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” Simon rasps, stroking your cheek. “Sit up against the headboard.”

The two of them move into position seamlessly, sweat and breath thick in the air, a wet fog blanketed around you. A bottle of lube discarded on the mattress, a pillow under Johnny’s hip to cushion him. He’s settled on his side, arranged carefully to avoid pressure on his injuries, and they both face you.

Simon kisses his neck, sucking urgent marks into his skin before he palms Johnny's ass, hard and then slips between his cheeks. You’re unable to see his hand, but when Johnny’s eyes go wide and he groans hoarsely, your clit throbs.

“There you go.”

“Simon.” He whines, high pitched and needy.

“Bloody tight, Johnny. Been so long since I’ve taken care of you, huh?”

“A- fuck, aye.” He presses backwards into Simon, and pants. The scene makes you drool, the eagerness on Johnny’s face, the slow movements of Simon at his back, his lips against Johnny’s cheek, neck, murmuring gently. You’re nearly shivering, ache screaming between your legs, and instinct takes over as your slip your hand inside your underwear. You’re slick, so wet it dampens your curls, and your fingertips slide over your clit, zaps of electricity echoing through your nerve endings.

Simon looks up at you through heavy lids, mouth obscured by Johnny’s shoulder. “Are you touching yourself sweetheart?” You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid it will come out a garbled mess. “You want to come when I fill our boy up?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Keep going.’ He orders, and then shifts, pressing his cock to Johnny’s entrance. Johnny moans, and your own hips jerk.

Simon pushes slowly, focused on Johnny’s face, cataloging every expression. “Y’alright?” Johnny nods, lip tucked into his teeth. “Christ. You’re strangling me.” He thrusts sharply, sealing his hips to the soft curves in front of him, and Johnny cries out in a high-pitched wail, eyes slamming shut. He fumbles with his cock, squeezing at the root, but Simon pulls him away. “Not yet, sweet boy. Need you to last for us.” You’re trapped in a shockwave that hasn’t quite reached shore yet, tension building with each swipe over your sensitive bud.

“Bunny…” Johnny rasps, and your apprehensions wane.

“Does it feel good?” you whine, and he nods, groaning. Simon builds his thrusts into an unrelenting pace and cups Johnny’s belly, stroking down, pushing against the strain of muscle there, Johnny’s eyes rolling into the back of head. You wonder if Simon can feel it, the pressure, the bulge of his hard cock, shoving deeper and deeper.

“Daddy-“ Johnny shrieks, and Simon’s mouth curls into a satisfied smirk.

“That’s right, good boy. Fuck… perfect little hole f’me. All mine.” He practically growls it, and you writhe, flicking down your pussy and back up, breathing hitching in a frantic pace. Johnny’s delirious, hands scrambling across the sheets, half reaching for you, half reaching for nothing. “Isn’t he perfect, bunny?”

“Ah- yeah.” Your tongue is numb, body burning. Sweat slicks down the middle of your back, and you ride your hand violently.

“Please.” He’s begging, frenzied, fingers twisting, and Simon reaches for his cock, wrapping his fist around his length. It doesn’t take long until Johnny’s back bows, and your toes curl. You hiss. They move together wildly now, a push pull in a frenetic dance, and your eyes slip closed, sinking into the slick sounds of Simon fucking Johnny open, Johnny moaning, whispers passed back and forth. Simon cups his jaw, tilting his face towards you, and they both watch, drifting from your eyes down to where you’re trying to make yourself come, clit swollen and throbbing.

“She’s such a good girl, isn’t she? Touchin’ herself, watching you take my cock.”

“Pretty girl.” Johnny slurs through his gasps, body shaking with the power of Simon’s thrusts. He’s close, judging by the fevered look on his face, little gasps and whines tumbling from his mouth. Simon squeezes him, thick thumb rubbing over his slit.

“Come, bunny. Be good for daddy.” Simon coaches, and you tighten, cosmic explosion streaking behind your closed lids, the same time Simon grits out something under his breath, jaw tight, tugging relentlessly on Johnny’s cock until he’s crying out too, cum splattering up his belly and chest, Simon milking every last drop from his cock as he lazily strokes inside him.

Immediately, you gasp. Shocked at yourself, but not scared. Not nervous just… emboldened.

They both read it on you, and Johnny’s head lolls with a satisfied, lazy smile. Simon pulls free, rubbing Johnny’s hip sweetly, ducking into the bathroom to get a towel. He cleans him up carefully, gently, and Johnny’ reaches for your hand. You don’t turn away.

And when Simon urges you to tuck in between them for sleep, you do. More than willingly.

“He looks good.” Hot tea wafts from the cup in front of your nose. You’re on break, somewhat, watching Johnny work through his last few minutes of physical therapy, his face broken out in satisfied smile. His biceps flex. “Really good.”

“He’s been workin’ out at home, a bit. In the garage.”

“He shouldn’t be pushing it.”

“I know.” Simon squeezes your good shoulder. “He’s okay, bun. He’s strong. A bit too stubborn for his own good sometimes, but strong.”

“Dada.” Penny smacks an open palm against Simon’s chest, and he covers it with his own, bouncing her slightly.

“Look, Pen. Is that your Da in there? Is that him?” The therapist smiles at Johnny and pats him on the back, rubs his shoulder down to his elbow with wandering fingers. She’s pretty, and fit, tight ass, tiny hips. A sliver of self-doubt, self-consciousness pokes at you, and then jealousy nearly turns you green. Simon cocks his head with a laugh. “Easy, bun. She’s just doing her job, you know.”

“What? I know that. I’m fine.” You immediately blurt, and it does nothing for your cause.

“It’s cute. That you’re jealous.”

“I’m not,” you roll your eyes, “whatever.” He chuckles, and then starts to pass Penny to you.

“Can you hold her while I help him get his stuff together?”

“Sure, c’mere girlfriend.” You tuck her up into your chest, playing with her hair as she curls into you. “Sleepy huh? It’s past your nap time. I bet Dada keeps you up for an early bedtime tonight.” She coos. Her fingers tighten in the collar of your shirt.

And then a freight train rams itself in the deepest parts of your heart.

You lean against the wall to keep your balance.

This is not your baby, but she feels like yours. Her weight is familiar now. Her routines. Her signs and sounds.

It’s easy to close your eyes and imagine she’s yours.

It’s been days since you touched yourself in bed as Johnny and Simon had sex, and the scene, the desire, is burrowing itself in your brain.

You want more.

You want more so badly you wind up touching yourself in the shower, fingers stroking your clit until you're muffling a moan in your elbow when you come.

It doesn’t soothe the ache. You’re not sure what will.

So, when you’re done, and find them relaxing in bed, Johnny in boxers, an idea abruptly runs through your head.

Could you?

Your fingers twiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” Simon raises an eyebrow. Johnny stops his sketching to smile.

“I um. I wanted to… see… or ask for something.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I just… I was wondering if I could… sit on you.”

“Sit on us?” Simon’s brow furrows, but Johnny’s face lights up.

“Like, ye wannae sit on one of us?” He emphasizes the word sit, and Simon murmurs.

“Ah.”

“I just… I really want to… I want to move on.” The words take you by surprise. “I want to feel like a human again, like how I used to feel. Before I was like this. I think…”

“Taking back control of your body will bring you closer to healing.” Johnny looks at Simon, and there’s desperate sadness in their eyes. Their hands intertwine, gripping onto each other so hard it looks like it hurts.

The moment passes, gone like it was never there in the first place. Johnny turns back to you.

“Ye’ll have to sit on me, pretty girl.”

“But... your hip.”

“I can take it.” You nod. Not that you prefer one to the other, but you’re curious.

“Is there a reason why…”

“I’m too big, bunny. Especially if it’s been a while for you. We’ll need to ease you into it.” Johnny smirks, and you hide an excited shiver.

“Okay.”

You stretch yourself out with your own fingers at first, the process made easier by your orgasm in the shower, all the while both Simon and Johnny encourage you, coo at you, praise you.

You stay present. Focused.

“Take it slow,” Simon coaches when you straddle Johnny’s hips, “don’t rush it. Just take your time.” Hands on his shoulders, Simon reaches for his cock, sliding it through your lips, brushing your clit before angling it at your entrance. You take a deep breath.

“Okay.”

The first inch makes you whine. Johnny’s fingertips draw circles up and down your spine, his lips in your ear. “Good job, pretty girl. Just like that. Nice and easy.” Your eyes slip closed, and you take more, sliding down his cock, the burn of the stretch smarting tears in your eyes. Simon wipes them away.

“Our brave girl. You’re doing so well. Feel okay so far?”  

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye alright? Does it hurt?”

“A little.” You wince, taking another inch, glancing down. Your equilibrium pitches.

“Look at me.” Johnny redirects, head tilted back on a pile of pillows. “Jus’ look at me, bunny. You’re safe. I’ve got ye.” His hands guide your hips, keeping your pace even and slow, careful. Even when the anxiety invades your control, he steadies you. “It’s us, just us. We’re here, bunny. You’re okay.” The ache, the open sore spot spilling sticky, blackened tar, seals up. It's zippered shut, away from you, packed tight for another day. Another moment. The only thing you need to focus on is here, and now. With them. Johnny's jaw clenches. “Christ Si. She’s really tight.”

“I know.” He pushes some of Johnny’s hair from his forehead. “You’re both being so good. I’m proud of you.” The praise, the warmth from the both of him, glows in your heart. You’ve never felt so safe, so cherished, in your life. Again and again, they surprise you, teaching you how things you used to dread or shy away from can be enjoyed, valued.

This is how it should be. Love without fear. Intimacy without fear.

You’re fully split open on Johnny, stuffed full. It’s tender, calm in the low light of the bedroom, almost cozy. His thighs blaze under your ass, and the heat creeps like lava to your fingers and toes, turning you boneless, languid in his arms. Simon leans in to kiss your temple.

“How do you feel?”

“R-really full.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No just… stretched, I think?” You wiggle a little bit, and Johnny finally breaks eye contact, looking up at the ceiling with a groan.

“Try to be still bunny. We just want to get you used to the feeling. This isn’t about sex.” Simon's last comment earns Johnny a warning glance, and he nods, straightening.

“Right. Even though your perfect little pussy is drivin’ me mad-“

“Johnny.” Simon chides. “Bunny, can you lean forward for me?” His hand presses to the middle of the back, guiding you to rest your cheek on Johnny’s shoulder. “Good girl.”

The room lapses into silence that lasts, rhythm of your chest rising and falling syncing with Johnny’s, Simon humming, working a hand up and down your spine.

Up and down. Up and down.

You think you could do it now. Roll your hips and rise on your knees, sink back down to feel the pressure, the bludgeoning tip of Johnny’s long cock nestled at your cervix. You’re not sure, not confident, but somewhere in your dreams, you picture yourself milking him dry, riding his cock until you’re shattering.

“Si.” Johnny’s voice pitches to something you’ve never heard, low and heavily accented. “Will ye read?” Pages of a book flutter. You hadn’t realized your eyes had closed, but as Simon’s voice picks up a page with no pretense, you don’t fight it, allowing yourself to drift between them, cradled on Johnny’s body with a piece of him pulsing inside you.

It’s bliss. It’s love. You’re…. happy.

[luveline]

I can’t remember if you’ve done one yet of Jack being jealous of the new baby not because of his dad’s attention but because of readers!

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Aaron says, hands on Jack’s shoulders where his son sits at the kitchen table, “I forgot to tell you, I got you a present.” 

“What kind?” Jack asks, used to presents by now. There’s been books, crayons, and enough toy cars to fill his parking garage to the brim. 

“What kind do you think?” 

He likes when his dad speaks like that. Aaron’s a peppy dad, he says everything in an altered bubbly tone that makes Jack smile, but his best voice is the soft one. Lightly teasing. He hugs Jack with one arm from behind, pressing his nose to Jack’s hair momentarily. 

“A big one?” Jack asks. 

“Sort of…” Aaron smiles. “Do you want me to go get it?” 

Jack’s about to say yes with a laugh, his excitement like a warm flame just below an outheld hand, but he stops when he hears a familiar gurgly sound and your loving laughter. 

“I know, baby.” That’s your voice, tired and soft as his father’s. “You’re exhausted. Let me give you a little squeeze before you sleep, hm? You’ll cry yourself awake if I don’t, you get all those trapped burps.” You laugh to yourself.

Jack sighs and turns back to his drawing. “Okay, dad,” he says, clearly monotonous. 

Aaron frowns behind his head. “Okay, buddy. It’s in the den.” 

“Okie dokie.” 

“Jack,” he says, and not a lot else. 

Aaron can’t wrap his head around it. Jack was so, so excited for Noah. He bragged to everyone at school that his step-mom was having a baby, that he’d have a little brother, and that they were all moving into a big house with a nice yard to play soccer. Jack and Noah Hotchner, best friends since the minute Noah was born. Or, that’s what you and Aaron hoped for.

It started well. Jack is gentle, and he’s understanding; he realised the baby would need extra care, and he’s done nothing but kiss and cuddle his new brother whenever they’re together. You got him a sound machine and some custom fitted earplugs for the long nights of crying, you never put Noah before him if you could help it. Aaron even pencilled in an hour of Jack time each day, but it isn’t working anymore. Jack’s just sad. 

The present is a jigsaw puzzle. A thousand pieces of guaranteed time spent together, but Aaron doesn’t have high hopes. 

He takes the two short steps down into the den to meet your eyes, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he mouths. 

You pat the baby’s back. “Well, I might have a suggestion.”

He couldn’t want to hear it more. “Tell me.” 

You hold his baby (your baby but his more urgently, the feeling an ache in his chest and hands) still as small and curled as a rabbit against your chest. Noah’s legs twitch in his onesie, his dark hair short where it brushes your lips. “I think maybe Jack misses me. I miss him, and I’m the grown up. I feel like I barely see him even though we’re living in the same house.” 

Aaron pauses, resting the jigsaw puzzle on the sideboard.

There’s no point in underselling the importance of you in Jack's life. You’re integral to Jack’s happiness, and Aaron can’t believe he hadn’t thought of your suggestion before now; he’s amazed by his own ego. Of course Jack misses you. You spend half your life nursing, which is half a life away from you he didn’t feel before.

“That’s what it is,” Aaron says. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

He takes Noah from your arms, settling him on the slope of his chest. “If it isn’t, we might be out of answers.” Aaron rubs Noah’s back with delight. It’s nice to see a solution to Jack’s upset in sight, and nice to hold the baby while he’s in a good mood. “Seriously, honey. I think you’re right.” 

“What are we gonna do if it isn’t me?” 

“Give this one back?” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Sorry, I’m kidding!” He gives Noah a little soft kiss. “Just kidding, beautiful. You’re all mine.” 

You take the jigsaw and give him a smile that borders shy. If his arms weren’t full he’d take your wrist in his hand and hold it for a while, but there’s stuff to do. You emerge from the den to the kitchen and Aaron follows. 

“Jack.” 

Jack immediately spins in his seat. Aaron doesn’t need to be a profiler to know your theory is correct. The change in Jack is unmissable. 

“Y/N,” he says, hiding his hope poorly. 

You show him the jigsaw. “I know it’s supposed to be your time with dad, but maybe it can be time with me instead? What do you think?” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah!” You pop the jigsaw in front of him without crushing his drawings. “Can we? I miss you.” 

“I miss you!” he says. 

“Yeah?” You brush his hair back. “You do?” 

“I do, I want to do the puzzle with you! Can we do it?” 

Your smile is part relief, part love. You hook a chair with your ankle and pull it under you as you sit, fingernail already scratching at the plastic wrap on the puzzle to pull it open. “We’re gonna do it right now.” 

The puzzle is a lot of pieces, you’ve barely completed the frame when it’s time for everyone to head to bed, but, reluctant, you and Jack sit at the table where Jack’s climbed into your lap for a ‘better view’, and you’ve wrapped your arms around him, occasionally loosing an arm to direct him to a right piece. The baby put to bed, Aaron pretends to pay more attention to cleaning the kitchen than he’s truly doing, finding himself leaning against the counter with a sterilised bottle in hand as you stroke Jack’s hair. 

“You know I love you?” you ask quietly. 

“Duh. You tell me all the time.” 

“I don’t want you to forget.” 

“I don’t.” 

Jack snaps a puzzle piece in to place and preens at your murmured, “Good job. Maybe we can try to do some of this every night you’re home?” 

Jack doesn’t cry, but it ties Aaron’s heart into a knot anyways when he turns into your chest to hug you tightly. “Okay,” Jack says, voice muffled by your t-shirt. 

You pat his back. His hands scrunch up like he’s worried you’re gonna pull away. 

“Can I get in on this?” Aaron asks. 

“No,” you both say. 

“Please?” 

Jack rubs his cheek into your collar. He doesn’t want to share. “No, dad. It’s not your time.” 

He supposes he does get you every night. “Fine. I love you, though.” 

“Love you too.” 

[avocado-writing]

Not sure if this is enough to go off of but I loved the poly!poolverine fic where they rescued the reader. I was wondering if we could get some more of them being protective of the reader 🙏🏻

The bar is pretty crowded tonight. You nurse a rum and coke and hope Logan and Wade are able to find you in the corner booth you managed to snag, because you know the second you go to order another some opportunistic patrons will take your spot - and you’ve been on your feet all day at work so there’s no way in hell you’ll let that happen.

You take a sip. It’s warm now, ice long since melted in the heat of the room. You grimace at the taste as someone slides onto the bench next to you. 

It is not one of your boys. 

“Hey, baby.”

He’s big. Kinda guy who goes to the gym every day big, which isn’t inherently bad - but from the way he uses his size to press up against you there’s a little bit of unease rising in your chest. He puts his elbow on the table so that he can rest his jaw in his hand, biceps flexing in the tight shirt he wears. 

“I’m waiting for someone,” you say, as calmly as you can, hoping this will deter him. It does not. 

“So? We can have a little talk, can’t we? Not hurting anybody.”

His hand goes to cover yours where it rests on the table. You snatch it back. He frowns. 

“Dunno who you’re waiting for, but they probably shouldn’t have left you here alone. Looks like they don’t care about you, honey.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, annoyed, deciding it’s not worth it. He won’t go so you will. You slide out the free side of the booth - but you’re forced to stop when he grabs your wrist. 

“I wasn’t done talking to you yet,” he says. Okay. Now you’re panicking. You manage to shake yourself free of his grasp and quickly push through the throng of people, hoping to lose him in the crowd. No such luck. He knows where you’re heading. 

The air is cold on the street as you speed up; not running, never running, that might incite a chase. He’s on your heels anyway. 

“Hey, are you just gonna keep ignoring me?”

“I told you I’m not interested!”

He grabs you again, harder this time. A grip you can’t break free from. 

“You know, you should learn not to be such a bitch —”

“Oh! Isn’t this fun! Sorry to interrupt this little show of misogyny in action but it’d be great if you could let go of our pookie.”

You’ve never been more relieved to hear Wade’s voice. Suddenly you’ve got someone either side of you: the brick which is Logan on your left, and the snark which is Wade on your right. 

The guy who’s holding you does not drop your arm. He frowns. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“They’re who I was waiting for,” you say quickly, as if this will deter him. The man laughs, loudly, cruelly.

“Sorry, you’re in some kinda threesome with this old fucker and whatever this dude is? Fuck, honey, you really need someone to show you what a real man—”

He does not get a chance to finish. Logan’s fist has collided with his face with such ferocity you can hear his nose break. The man yelps and staggers backwards, you bring your hand to your chest for safety. 

“Should’ve let go, bub,” he mutters, massaging his knuckles. Wade deflates. 

“Aw, I wanted to get the first hit in!” He peers over at where the guy is laid out flat. “Go on, get back up. If I don’t throw a punch it emasculates me, and I’m very sensitive about it.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his sleeve. 

“Let’s just go, guys. I don’t think he’s gonna follow us.”

“One sec.”

Wade strolls over and puts his boot on the guy’s chest, pushing down until he’s wheezing.

“You wanna apologise?”

The guy groans out a sorry, and you give a curt nod when Wade turns to see if you’ve accepted it.

“Don’t do this bullshit again, with anyone, or I’m gonna find you, rip your dick off, then feed it to my adorable, hideous dog.”

They cage in around you as your turn, two loyal hounds at your beck and call. You throw a couple of glances over your shoulder as you leave but it’s as you suspected: the guy remains on the cold concrete. When you’re far enough away to feel safe they slow to a stop. 

“You okay?” Logan asks, lifting your chin with a finger so that he can get a good look at you. You nod. 

“Yeah. Thanks for being there in time.”

“I’m sorry baby, we should have got here earlier, but peanut here tore a guy’s arm off so we had to go and clean up first—”

“Oh god, stop,” you say, pulling a face. You don’t want to know about their line of work, very happy for the business and personal life gulf to be a wide one. “Let’s go get some pizza and head home.”

“Anything you want,” says Logan, squeezing your hand. 

Anything where you’re between them is what you want. Safe and happy, they’ll make sure you’re both. 

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch1. he said yes!! congrats!!

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 7.8k

a/n. hellooo omg welcome to this debut chapter!! tysm to everyone who wanted to be on taglist for this!! i was gagged at the amount of people!! yall are amazing omg n thanks for supporting my works :''') hope you enjoy this chapter and i will see all you lovelies at the bottom <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

Love thy neighbor.

Cherish thy neighbor.

Tolerate thy neighbor.

Peacefully coexist with thy neighbor. 

Fuck thy neighbor? No, wait, not that one.

It’s murder thy neighbor. That was the phrase you were looking for.

Murder thy neighbor so gruesomely that you’d leave no trace behind. Murder him and bury him somewhere no one could ever find him, so that even in millions of years from now when some other highly advanced mammalian species overtakes the planet and embarks on journeys to acquire fossils, thy neighbor will still never grace the atmospheric oxygen of the earth ever again. It’s the punishment he’d deserve for thoroughly pissing you off at the worst times possible and in the worst ways possible. The smallest of prices to pay.

“SATORU!!!” you yell, storming up the sudsy driveway of your next-door neighbor’s house at eight in the morning, clad in your dirty scrubs from the hell of a night shift you just endured working at the hospital, glass containers inside the lunchbox you were holding hitting painfully against the poor joint in your knee but you just don’t care. Anger is all you can see right now.

Your neighbor (derogatory) stands there in his pajamas with a spray nozzle in his hands, passively spraying water across the top surface of his car, and when he sees you, he pulls his left airpod out of his ear and looks you up and down once. You’re pretty sure there’s steam coming out of your ears. “Uh, do you mind? I’m trying to wash my car.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to park your stupid boat in front of my driveway?!” you yell at him, voice hoarse and nails digging into the skin of your palms by the clench of your fists.

“Hm?” he leans back a little to glance past you to his boat. “Oh, you mean my 2023 Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless with low profile bow rail welded stainless steel, Mercury FourStroke hydraulic power steering and, not to mention, a platinum gelcoat hull? That silly old thing? It’s not even parked in front of your driveway.”

“Yes. It is. Are you blind? I can’t move my car into my garage, hence why it’s running idle on the fucking street right now. Your boat’s on my property.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh. Yuh-huh.”

“Honey. I’m a real estate agent. You don’t think I’d know where my own property line starts and ends?”

“Park. It. On. Your. Drive. Way.”

“I spent a lot of money on that boat,” he sighs, “I intend to show it off on the street. Stop acting like there isn’t more than enough room for your tiny prius. It’s not my fault you have the motor skills of a toddler and don’t know how to pull into a driveway,” he pauses for a second and tilts his head upwards in thought, “Oh. Motor skills, haha, get it? Fuck, that’s funny. Hold on, I gotta jot that down,” he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his cotton plaid pajama pants, “my niece would love that. She gets all giggly about puns these days. It’s her birthday next weekend, by the way, turning five.”

“Oh, right,” you scratch the top of your head (been too busy to wash your hair), and realize the ponytail you threw your hair up into at the beginning of your shift last night is now barely hanging on for dear life, “I forgot to tell you, but my cousin said he can’t rent that pony out for her birthday party anymore. Apparently it died.”

He stares at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

He shrugs. “That’s fine, thanks anyway,” he swipes up on his phone, “they had crazy hair day at my niece’s elementary school yesterday, wanna see a picture?”

“Sure.”

He turns his phone to show you. “My sister let her cut her hair a little shorter this time since she wouldn’t stop asking. I guess all her friends at school were cutting theirs short too so they wanted to be matching.”

“Aww,” you pout with a small smile when you see the picture, “I think it suits her. That’s a lot of glitter though, y’know that stuff’s really bad for the environment.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, turning his phone screen back to face him, “anyway. I was halfway convinced you just came from some crazy hair day when I saw you stomp up my driveway just now.”

“I’m gonna guillotine your head off with the trunk door of my car. Now move your boat.”

“Hold on one sec,” he says, holding a finger right up to your face, and you flinch backwards slightly before going cross-eyed to stare at it, and then you’re glaring at him again. His phone is ringing in his hand. “I gotta take this.”

“Wha–” you try to interrupt him, but he just says shhh and shakes his finger in front of you, which makes you want to bite it off.

“Hi, Donna!” he exclaims into his phone, “so good to hear from you. Oh, no, not at all, you caught me at the perfect time. I’m just washing my car. Nah, you’re not interrupting anything.”

The urge to smack him consumes you.

“Oh okay, cool, I’m glad you took some time to think about it. Let me know when you want to meet again, if you’re still interested in the house, we can make an offer. Uh huh. Yeah. Sorry, what’s that? Oh,” he pulls his phone from his ear to look at the time, “yeah, that’s fine. Is that the one on 6th street? Sure, I’ll see you then. By the way, how was little Tommy’s soccer game yesterday?...Aw, that’s okay, he’ll get the next one. Hm? Yeah, what’s up? Oh, you know that I’d love to, and there’s no one that enjoys your green bean casserole more than I do, but I’m actually busy tonight! I know! Bummer! Maybe some other time? Alright. Yeah, thanks, you too. Take care. Bye.” He presses the end call on his phone, and there’s an awkward silence as he narrows his eyes at the screen in concentration for a moment while typing something onto it, and then the corner of his eye catches sight of something in his periphery, that something being you, and he jumps a little.

“Oh fuck,” he places a hand on his chest and exhales, “I didn’t know you were still standing there.”

“I’m seriously going to whack you across the face with my lunch box right now.” 

“That gigantic industrial lunch box you carry around for your 12-hour shifts?” he points at your hand, “you’d have blood on your hands. I’d be dead.”

“Yeah, that’s the goal, idiot.”

“You’re so fucking violent, jeez, I bet the inside of your head looks like the inside of Jeffrey Dahmer’s. How do you sleep at night?”

“With fifteen milligrams of melatonin, blackout curtains, a satin sleeping mask, and in the mornings.”

“...that didn’t make you sound like any less of a serial killer.”

“Whatever, at least I don’t have a complex for elderly divorced women. You know that what you do for work isn’t any better than prostitution, right?” 

“Okay. Now I have to hear where you’re going with this.”

You cross your arms across your chest, and your gigantic industrial sized lunch box with the millions of glass containers inside of it hits your hip painfully, enough to warrant a wince, but you keep a straight face as to not show any weakness. “You flirt with vulnerable women who have just gotten out of probably extremely heartbreaking marriages from their cheating country golf club husbands, and pretend to care about all their drama, just so that they’d buy a house from you. I literally heard you say to a lady the other day,” and you do your absolute best to mock him in the most insulting way possible, “‘it’s okay Lorraine. If you’re still struggling to fill your new house with someone new too, then you know where to find me.’”

“Yeah. She wanted to rent out her guest bedroom. I was gonna help her look for tenants.” 

“O-Oh,” you stutter, but stand up straighter, “doesn’t matter. You still pimp yourself out for a sale.”

“So what if I do? I’m hot, why wouldn’t I take advantage of that? You could’ve done the same thing too, but you didn’t, and now you’re stuck working miserable nursing shifts that are probably taking years off of your lifespan.”

“You’re the one taking years off of my lifespan. Now move your fucking boat.”

He sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket before walking past you to your car, that still had the driver’s side door open and was idle in the middle of the street.

“W-Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’m gonna park your car in your garage for you,” he says, waving his hand up in the air dismissively because he knows you’re about to protest, and then he ducks his head into your car, reaching his arm in for the lever that moves the seat backwards, and adjusts it all the way back before he’s able to take a seat at the wheel. And your yelling is a pestering he pays no mind to as he shuts the door.

“Wait– I didn’t give you permission to–” you shout as you step into your driveway, holding your arms out because you’re scared he’s gonna chip off your side mirror on the stern of his boat, but he deftly pulls your car into the driveway. He also almost runs you over in the process.

When he gets out of your car inside your garage, you storm right up to him and yank your car keys out of his hand. “You almost flattened me over my own driveway.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been standing there,” he easily retorts and leans against your car before crossing his arms over his chest. “Also, case proven, there’s more than enough space to pull your car in. You’re just piss poor at parking.”

“I swear to fucking god. If you’re ever in a life-threatening emergency and wind up at my hospital, your emergency isn’t going to be the thing that kills you, it’s gonna be the cocktail of deadly meds I inject straight into your veins. And I’ll have it charted like it was a death of natural causes.”

His brow furrows and he frowns, but it’s in that sarcastic way that tells you he’s not threatened by you, and the idea of using the taser in your purse on him is briefly entertained in your mind, “I’ve got Kaiser, hun,” he says, “I wouldn’t go to just any regional hospital for healthcare. Put some damn decorum on my name, Jesus.”

“How is it you’re stupid, an asshole, have a sick fetish for elderly women, and also somehow classist at the same time? Can you pick a struggle please?”

“Stop saying I have a fetish for elderly women,” he hisses at you, “especially with that loud obnoxious voice of yours. Our neighbors are gonna think I’m a creep.” He pretends to shiver.

“But it’s true. I bet you lost your virginity to a fifty-year-old cougar the day you turned eighteen. And to one that was probably grooming you even before then, too.”

His eyes widen. “Damn. How’d you know.”

“That you’re a victim?” you ask, tone derisive, “your entire personality is living proof. Please seek help.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was never groomed, and I didn’t lose my virginity to an elderly woman,” he corrects you, “...although said woman was a little older than me.”

“I’ve literally got no fucking interest in this conversation anymore. Get the fuck out of my garage,” you practically spat at him, “the last thing I need to deal with after getting off of a 12-hour night shift is coming home to your stupid face out on the street.” You push past him, making sure to nudge him with your shoulder but he hardly budges, and you lose balance from your own attack, and now you’re doubly pissed off before you make it to the door with your keys jingling in your hand to find the right one to unlock it.

“Good night,” he calls out to you, and you click the button on the garage door so that it starts closing, and watch him as he panics before ducking his head underneath it to make it outside before you can essentially lock him to rot inside of your garage, and then you shut the door behind you, finally inside the comfort of your home.

Ah. Silence.

But it was never a comfortable one. 

“Mom?” you call out as you open the door out of the laundry room to make it into the living room, and your eyes scan the floor. You don’t see her in the kitchen, or on the couch in front of the TV, sometimes she spends time in the pantry room but she’s not in there today. You round the corner over to where the front entrance of the house is, and you see her standing there, peering out of the window to the other houses on the streets. She holds her hands loosely behind her back, and she’s so still she could be a statue.

“Hey,” you say to her, softly, so as not to startle her. “I’m home.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and you realize her line of sight was set to next door, where you see Gojo has resumed the wash of his car. “Why are you yelling at that sweet boy across the lawn?” she asks you, “he helped me fix the air conditioning last week.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but then you sigh. Typical Gojo getting involved where he should really just mind his own business. “I’m pretty sure by fix you mean he just pressed a bunch of buttons on the thermostat until it started working again.” 

She doesn’t respond as she continues to stare out onto the street, tilting her head slightly while deep in thought, like she’s trying to make sense of what she sees. 

“Mom,” you gently tug her sleeve, “I think you should get away from the window and get some rest. You look tired, and I need to take you for chemo in the afternoon.”

She gently pulls her elbow away from your grip of her sleeve and turns to look at you. “Mom?” she repeats after you, “why are you calling me ‘mom’? Who are you?”

Your blood runs cold from her words, but you don’t have the time or the luxury to react in the way that you want to, and so you suck in a deep breath. It was one of those days. But it’s cruel that she’ll remember your neighbor and not her own daughter. “I’m your daughter,” you gently reintroduce yourself, to the woman who gave you life, “I know that might be a little weird to hear right now.”

“No…” she says, “I think that makes sense. I’m sorry, dear, I think I have a bad memory these days.” She looks at you with concentration, studying the features of your face. “My daughter, yes. You look…oh, dear, you look like you should sleep.”

You nod slowly, releasing the breath you were holding. “Yes. You too, mom.”

You place your gigantic industrial lunch box on the kitchen counter, and come back to hold your mom’s hands as you lead her to her bedroom downstairs. By the time you fix her a small meal in the kitchen, bring it to her and make her eat so she can take her pills, she’s ready to take a small nap and you know that you’ve earned some sleep now too.

The upstairs master bathroom beckons you the second you get upstairs, and even though you’ve been using the master bedroom & bathroom in this house ever since moving your mom downstairs four years ago since she had trouble getting up the stairs, it still feels odd to stand in front of the sink without a stool underneath your feet, like what you had to when you were a kid and your mother would braid your hair. You’re a grown woman now, and as you stare at your reflection, you’re not sure if you can recognize yourself anymore. But rather than dwell on if it was because of any profound reason, you figured you just needed a shower and to get some sleep before you have to wake up again in five hours. Exhaustion is evident on your face, and you swipe under your eyes to get the smudge of mascara off before it tattoos your skin forever. 

Hot water on your skin does little to help your drowsiness, but at least now you feel clean of your shift, and then you remember there are blood stains on your shoes from the stab wound patient that rolled in at 2AM last night, and you should really let them soak for a few hours while you sleep, but you just can’t bother right now. Instead, you slip into something comfortable, draw your curtains back to mimic the dead of night in your room as best as you can, grab the bottle of melatonin sitting at your nightstand and pop a few tablets, feeling feverish as you slip into your sheets. You pull the comforter up over your eyes, a decision that is less ideal than using a sleeping mask since you’ll be breathing your own carbon dioxide until you fall asleep now, but it’s okay. It’s cozy under your blanket. Just this once. And you count sheep to make you sleepy. At least until the melatonin beats you to it.

—

“You’re looking better,” Dr. Johnson says to your mother as he accesses the port on her chest, “were you able to get a good rest?”

Your mother nods and points to you. “My daughter made me take a nap.”

“That’s good,” he coos, “it’s good to get rest before chemo. Your daughter really cares about you.”

“I know,” your mother smiles up at you, “I’m so lucky.” You return her smile with one of your own.

Dr. Johnson starts to push the line of chemo into your mother’s port as she sits on the chair in the treatment lounge, and then stands up from his rolling chair before the nurse quickly moves to twiddle with the drip of the IV bag. 

“Ready for consult?” he asks you.

You grip your binder to your chest. “Yeah.”

You walk into the doctor’s office, one you’ve more than familiarized yourself with over the past couple of years, then take a seat across from Dr. Johnson’s desk as he clicks through his computer before handing you a copy of your mother’s recent lab work.

“Her tumor markers are rising,” you say as you sift through the papers.

“They are, we’ll likely switch to monitoring them every four weeks going forward. But it’s okay, not to worry,” he says, “tumor markers can raise for all sorts of reasons unrelated to cancer.”

“She had a cold last week,” you say, “maybe it’s the inflammation?”

Dr. Johnson lets out a small laugh. “I’m sorry, y/n, sometimes I forget you’re a nurse.” He hums to himself as he pens down something on the notepad in front of him. “When was your mother’s last PET/CT scan?”

“It was in February,” you say, “she’s due soon. I was going to ask if you could order one for her.”

“Yes, I will, I’ll do it right now,” he says as he types something into the computer. “You still have the standing orders for her routine lab work, correct? Do my MAs need to send you the scripts?”

“No, that’s okay, I got them already. Good for six months,” you reassure him.

“Alright, perfect.”

There’s an awkward silence that settles in the room as you shift in your seat with the binder in your lap, full of all of your mother’s medical information and emergency department discharge packets and recent lab work and imaging. You mess with the plastic cover on top of it nervously.

“It’s good she remembers you today,” Dr. Johnson comments, “I remember last week you were upset she didn’t.”

“Oh,” you say, “yeah, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard.”

His eyes leave his computer screen for a second to look at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You nod slowly. You had to be alright, you had no other choice. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say, “um, actually, doc, I just wanted to share with you that I’ve been keeping track of my mom’s Alzheimer’s progression.” You open your binder in your lap, pulling out a packet of papers and placing them on his desk, turning some of them towards him but he doesn’t really spare a proper enough look. “I’ve just been noticing she’s progressively worsening a bit faster than her neurologist had projected.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding curt, and that nervousness comes back. But goddammit, you’re a nurse, you know how to deal with stubborn doctors. And it’s for your mother. There was no one else left to advocate for her except you.

“I was just wondering if we could also order a brain MRI for her?” you ask, “just to rule out anything…her brain fog has been bad, worse than usual, and I’m just really worried about metastasis, especially if it’s a glioma, I’d just want to catch it as soon as possible.”

You have sympathy for oncologists, really, you do. They must deal with paranoid family members all the time, but how could someone blame another for wanting what’s best for their loved one? You don’t think that’s an empathy that anyone should ever lose, regardless of how long you’ve been practicing medicine. 

He sighs. “There’s no indication for that right now, not with her response to treatment as well as her lab work. I’d suggest we just wait on her next PET/CT results, and we can go from there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“I know,” you say, “but her next scan isn’t for another couple weeks, plus the week it’ll take to have it read, it’ll be far out, so…if we could just order it now?”

He interlocks his fingers and places his hands in front of him on the desk, looking at you with a stern face, but he glances down at the paperwork you’ve sprawled in front of him with scribblings of all the detailed notes you’ve been taking of your mom’s responses to her Alzheimer’s treatments, with time stamps and descriptions of her mental state, and his furrowed brow relaxes slightly. He breathes in deep. “Alright. Fine, I’ll order one. I highly doubt we’ll find anything, though. But since there’s no clear clinical impression warranting a brain MRI right now,” he mentions as he directs his attention back to his computer, “I don’t think insurance will cover it for you with the diagnoses I put in.”

“That’s okay,” you quickly respond, “I’ll pay for it.” 

You collect your imaging orders from the medical assistants at the center of the oncology floor. The chemo nurse, Mai, informs you that your mother still has about two hours left before her treatment is done, and she gently suggests you go eat something while you wait. You tell her it’s okay, that you want to wait with her, but she tells you the hospital cafeteria is serving tater tots today for tater tot tuesday, and those tater tots are to die for. But before you go downstairs to the cafeteria, you find a few minutes to cry in a one stall bathroom.

—

“God damn,” you hear your coworker, Hana, dreamily sigh as she leans on the handle on your standing mobile nursing work desk, and you trail her line of sight to the tight asses of the EMT men that walk by while rolling a stretcher. “It’s like being hot is a part of their job requirement.”

“Uh-huh,” you agree mindlessly as you try to catch up on charting for the rounds you just ran on your patients around the emergency department beds.

4/20/2024 0200: patient notified of the importance of taking ibuprofen. Attempted to give pt the medication. Pt responded “suck on this, bitch”, gestured to his general groin area, then threw ibuprofen tablets at RN. pt upset and requests narcotics instead. Informed MD of pt’s behavior and request. MD will not order narcotic pain medication at this time. Will continue to monitor

“How’s your mom doing?” Hana says, interrupting your typing as she turns to face you now.

“She’s okay,” you say, continuing to punch keys as you stare at your monitor, “she has a PET/CT soon. It’s always nerve wracking when the next scan is coming up.”

“Have you given hospice any more thought?” she asks.

You stop typing and stare blankly ahead at your screen as your heart sinks a little. You have given hospice more thought, and you came to the decision about a week ago that you would go through with it. It’s becoming so increasingly difficult taking care of your mom at home, more than you can manage with all of her doctor’s appointments, radiation appointments, chemotherapy appointments, all of which happen during the late mornings or early afternoons so you can’t even properly rest on most days that you come home from night shifts. Even though you only work three shifts a week, you can’t remember the last time you got a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep because of how messed up your circardian rhythm has become. You were practically a walking zombie, and you hardly felt like a person anymore. You’re not going to switch to the day shift, because that would make it difficult to take your mom to her appointments, and also because you get paid extra with the night shift differential, and above all other necessities, what you really needed right now the most was money. Forget the fact you’re still in debt from nursing school, but you co-signed on the medical loans your mother had taken out for treatments, and five years of high acuity medical bills was a living nightmare. And you were living that nightmare. 

“I did,” you say, “I’ve been looking into hospices, but a lot of them are further away than I’d like.” You glance down at your keyboard. “I…I’m going to miss having my mom home. Even though it’s hard to deal with her mood swings and stuff sometimes, I just think the house would feel really empty without her.”

“Aw, my dear,” Hana sighs and rubs her hand up and down your arm soothingly, “I’m sure you’d love to have her home, but I think it’s becoming too much for you. I say this with love and care, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you genuinely smile.”

Your eyes widen slightly from her words, and you release some of the tension in your shoulders, tension you didn’t even realize you were holding onto during this conversation.

“It’s too much for just one person,” she continues, “while I understand you want to spend more time with your mom, the quality of time you’re spending with her could be so much better if you had some weight lifted off your shoulders, where you’re not worrying about her medication schedule or doctor’s appointments or blood draws and all that.”

You nod slowly and manage to give her a small smile, then place your hand over hers that was still soothing over your arm. “Thanks, Hana. I know, I appreciate you looking out for me. I…I think I’ll look more seriously into hospices. It’s just they’re really expensive, too, so I have that to consider as well.”

“Hmm,” she withdraws her hand from you and juts her bottom lip out as she looks up at fluorescent emergency department lighting. You hear a patient cough in the distance as your senses take in the ambient environment once again. “Y’know, there’s this really great new hospice in town that functions as a general facility and also helps manage a lot of chronic diseases too. They have nurses there that do blood draws and everything, and they also transport patients to their affiliated hospital for treatments, like dialysis and chemo and stuff. My friend’s mom has breast cancer and was recently accepted into that hospice,” she tells you, pulling her phone out and looking through some of her messages, “I think it’s only a fifteen minute drive from your house.”

You tilt your head at her with interest, wondering why it didn’t come up on your provider search through insurance, but regardless, it sounded too good to be true. “It’s probably really expensive. My mom’s under the state insurance right now, but I’ve explored government insurance plans too and they’re still really pricey. I just can’t afford it, not with all of her cancer treatments, and adding her under my insurance isn’t really going to be any better either.”

She groans. “I know. What’s with our healthcare plan? You’d think as a hospital, they’d choose better plans for their employees,” she sighs, and then stops to read some of the messages on her phone, “but my friend said that her husband was able to add her mom as a dependant, and his insurance covers 90% of it. I’m sure it depends on the illness, but they only pay a few thousand per month out of pocket.”

You blink at her. “Really? T-That’s insane…do you know what insurance her husband has?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Kaiser facility.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “well, they wouldn’t accept state insurance. That’s a private HMO.”

“Shoot,” Hana looks at you apologetically, “I’m so sorry, love, I forgot about that. Sorry to get your hopes up.”

“That’s okay,” you smile at her, “thanks for trying. I’m glad it worked out for your friend, at least.”

Hana glances at her watch and realizes her break is over, so she heads back to her side of the emergency department, and you’re left standing at the nursing station with thoughts running through your head now, and still catastrophically behind on charting.

Hmm.

Kaiser.

You swear someone mentioned that to you recently.

Or maybe you were just remembering another one of those ads you see on television at night. No, no, you’re pretty sure it came up in conversation with someone, but you can’t remember when or why or what or where or who. Hmmmmm. Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser. 

Nope. Nothing.

Oh well, maybe it’ll hit you later.

—

It hits you in the form of an intrusive memory when you wake up on a Thursday afternoon in a cold sweat after having a hallucinogenic melatonin dream where you were getting chased by a giant rabbit (don’t ask). 

Kaiser.

Gojo said he has Kaiser insurance. 

And the idea that comes into your head after that is so ridiculous, so absurd, so positively bonkers that you have to slap the sleepiness off your face for a second to make sure you’re still not in some dream state of living, and the harsh sting on your cheek proves that you’re not. And the idea still persists. And now you’re swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, and grabbing your laptop, and opening it, and inputting your pin, and then spending a good three hours researching if this little idea of yours actually has any good level of merit to it, if it could even succeed, if it was even legal? You even find yourself on the phone with insurance representatives, and you stare at the tens of thousands of dollars of debt on your Excel spreadsheet where you keep track of your finances, and you feel the exhaustion in your bones, and you also remember how fucking annoying Gojo is. And yet still, the idea persists. 

And when the pieces of the plan start to unfortunately fall into place, you say, fuck it. What was worse than potentially getting into six figures of debt? It’ll be fine.

But you can only hope he says yes.

.

.

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[reading commercial break]

hello!! this is ellie, the author. so sorry to interrupt, there is still a bit left for this chapter, but i just wanted to jump in here real quick to explain for some of my readers that may not be american so they may understand reader’s desperation to financially cover the costs of her mother’s healthcare bills. this story is set in suburban america lol, where the healthcare system is so messed up honestly, and this excerpt from the book the body by bill bryson kinda explains:

“Where America really differs from other countries is in the colossal costs of its health care. An angiogram, a survey by The New York Times found, costs an average of $914 in the United States, but only $35 in Canada. Insulin costs about six times as much in America as it does in Europe. The average hip replacement costs $40,364 in America, almost six times the cost in Spain, while an MRI scan in the United States is, at $1,121, four times more than in the Netherlands. The entire system is notoriously unwieldy and cost-heavy.” p360; “...America spends more on health care than any other nation–two and a half times more per person than the average for all other developed nations of the world. One-fifth of all the money Americans earn–$10,209 a year for every citizen, $3.2 trillion altogether–is spent on health care.” p359

unfortunately, a lot of how much you end up spending at the end of the day, depends significantly on the health insurance that you have. it could make the difference of spending a few hundreds to a few thousands to a few tens of thousands and beyond, just based on the insurance plan, even if the illnesses/treatments are exactly the same.

but yeah, just wanted to provide that context lol!! so you must understand reader’s desperation to save a buck!!! 

ok back to regularly scheduled broadcasting!! 🧚‍♀️💕✨

[end of reading commercial break]

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.

—

You’re sitting at a table outside your favorite cafe in town, leg bouncing up and down underneath the surface impatiently and nervously, and you glance at the time on your phone for the fifth time within the past five minutes because you’re unable to alleviate any of the anxiety you’re experiencing right now. You hear the jingling of the cafe door behind you and then you’re a little startled when someone emerges in your periphery by your side.

You look up and see Gojo standing next to you, and you see he already went inside and grabbed a coffee to-go for himself.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you say with a small wave.

He takes a seat across from you. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks while he settles in and smooths down the fabric of his suit jacket. He’s not wearing a tie, and has a couple of the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal some of the skin at his collarbone. Probably to seduce the divorced single moms, you think. “And if you called me here to try and convince me for the millionth time to pitch in for that fence you built six months ago, I’m just gonna say no again. I didn’t even want that fence built in the first place. It fucked up the roots on my avocado tree.”

“It’s a joint fence. Neighbors usually pitch in for that kind of stuff, asshole. At least normal neighbors do. You know I talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood when you refused to pay and all of them agree that you’re being a stuck-up prick about it?”

“You know that I also talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood and they said the same exact thing about you?”

“Wha–” you gasp, blinking a few times from the betrayal, then mutter “...those two-faced bitches” under your breath.

“So,” he pulls his sleeve back to glance at his watch, “what did you want? I’ve only got thirty minutes to talk before I need to head to an open house.” He brings his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Oh. Right. Just a favor,” you say, “I was wondering if you could marry me.”

He almost spits out his coffee.

“E-Excuse me?” he croaks out, exasperated, and he’s coughing a little bit as he hits his chest with a fist to alleviate the irritation in his throat from some hot coffee that went down the wrong pipe.

“I mean, if it’s not an issue, I’d really appreciate it if you could marry me,” you attempt to clarify, but you realize you probably should’ve thought a little more about how you were going to ask him this, and now you’re too deep to backtrack, so you just hope you’ll find the conversation along the way.

He’s looking at you like you’ve got six heads, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly with that what the fuck? face you see him wear sometimes. But then he sits up a bit straighter, expression morphing into a curious one as he studies your face, head tilting a little in his scrutinization. Then, his face relaxes entirely. He has this knowing look as he nods up and down slowly, like he just figured something out, and then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in some type of faux frustration. And you don’t understand why you’re already seethingly angry about what he’s going to say next.

“Oh god,” he sighs, “I knew this day would come.”

“Huh?” you squeak out.

“Listen,” he says as he crosses his arms, but one of his hands comes out from where it was tucked in his elbow to waive around in the air as he articulates his words, “I know that I’m very charming, and handsome, and chivalrous, one might say the modern knight in shining armor–”

“Satoru.”

“–and yes, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he dramatically sighs, “when I’m taking the groceries up the driveway…when I’m out mowing the lawn…when I stretch on the sidewalk before I go for a run. I feel your eyes on me like a hawk. Quite frankly, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat, and I feel very violated by it sometimes–”

“What the fuck are you talking about???”

“But I get it. Really, I do. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it–”

“I’m not embar–”

“It was really only a matter of time before you would do this. So overcome by your feelings for me that you just had to go against the grain of centuries of matrimonial standards and swallow your gigantic pride to propose to me.” 

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you saying–”

“But,” he says, collecting himself now, and taking in a deep breath, “my answer is no. I mean, I shouldn’t have to explain why. But I will. First of all, where the hell is my ring? Secondly, why aren’t you on one knee in front of me right now? Also, in a cafe? Really? I thought you would’ve known I’d have liked something a little bit more romantic than this. Y’know, private, but also where my family’s somewhere around the corner. Maybe by the beach–”

“Can you stop talkin–”

“–while the sun is setting, and I’m wearing a nice dress, and there’s bubbles in the air and rose petals on the sand, and you tell me how enamored you’ve always been of me, and how you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with me,” he indulgently sighs, “I mean, it’s every guy’s dream. But nooooo, of course you’ve got no taste or sense for romance in any capac–”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, FORGET THIS,” you stand up out of your chair, fast enough to where it almost falls backwards, and you grab your purse to sling over your shoulder, “I cannot believe I actually thought this plan would ever fucking work.” You’re about to walk away from the table, because you’re realigned with the wisdom of exactly why you can’t stand this man, when his hand reaches out quickly to grasp onto your wrist, to keep you still, and you jump a little from the contact. You look down, his hand unrelenting in its grip as his knuckles flex slightly, and you’re not sure if he’s ever touched you from how foreign the sensation feels.

“Wait,” he says, and when you look at him, his eyes are a little wide like a puppy, “you’re being serious?”

You yank your wrist out of his grip, but the warmth of his touch still lingers, and you wrap your own hand around it to distract yourself from it. “Why would I just ask you to marry me out of nowhere if I wasn’t being serious?”

He gives you a look like the answer to your question is obvious. “Uh, to fuck with me?”

You’re still holding onto your wrist, protectively pressing it against your chest with your back turned away from him slightly, and you look up at the sky for a brief second. Hm, perhaps you could have brought the favor up a bit better, and you realize it might’ve sounded insane on his end, and you’re also still thinking about the tens of thousands of dollars you could save if he said yes, and so you hesitantly open your body language up to him again.

“Just sit,” he sighs.

You take a seat across from him again, hands finding the warm coffee cup in front of you and you purse your lips together before tucking your bottom lip under your front teeth. You take a deep breath before speaking again. “I…I’m being serious. I was wondering if you could marry me as a favor, and not because I think you’re some type of irresistible man candy, god, where do you get your gigantic ego from?”

“I–”

“Rhetorical question, shut it.”

He blinks at you. “What favor are you asking for that’ll be satisfied by me marrying you?”

You twiddle with your thumbs. “I want to put my mom in hospice,” you say, eyes flickering down slightly because you’re worried you’re about to tear up from the words, but when you realize you’ve got enough conviction not to, you look back up at him, and his eyes on you are a little too observant, “most of the hospices in town are further away than I’d like, and really expensive, but I heard there was a Kaiser one nearby…and that a lot of the costs are covered by insurance. So, if you married me, I could send my mom there. And also, under your insurance, the care network would be better, so I could get her a new oncologist and neurologist, and I’d know she’s being taken care of. And…” you clear your throat, “well, it’ll be a lot less expensive, so I can start to catch up on…well, whatever, you get the picture.”

His eyes narrow at you in thought, and he glances at your hands on the table that are nervously fidgeting, and then his eyes meet yours again. “I’m not sure if you can add a…spouse’s parent to a healthcare plan?”

“You can,” you say, “I already called to ask.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Gojo hums to himself, laying his palms flat on his thighs and rubbing them back and forth on the taut fabric a few times as he thinks with his gaze set off somewhere in the distance. It seems like he’s running through some algorithm of thoughts in his head, and then he slowly nods to himself when he’s made a decision.

“Sure, I’ll do it,” he says.

“Y-You will?” you ask him. You’re uneasy at how easy it was to convince.

“Yeah. I like your mom. She’s a sweet lady, and I want to see her get better.”

His words touch you. And not from the distance of a ten foot pole like you’d usually allow, but more intimate somehow. And you get the feeling you should thank him, but you’re still pissed off from when he almost ran you over on your own driveway earlier this week. 

“Really?” you make sure, almost like you’re hoping he’ll change his mind because now you’re suspicious as to why he agreed so quickly. And you realize he’s already making you paranoid.

“Yeah. I’m saying yes to your proposal, y/n,” he says, “I mean, a marriage is just a legal agreement. Not a big deal. I’d want a prenup though, for obvious reasons. In case you’re a gold digger.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re too cheap to even pitch in for a fucking fence. You think I’d believe you’ve got any gold to dig?”

He sighs. “I said in case.”

“Well, anyways, we can work out logistics and paperwork or whatever later,” you say, and you extend your hand out for him to shake it.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Um. You’re going to make me shake your hand over this?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “it’s the diplomatic thing to do.”

“Yes,” he says, “for a diplomatic agreement.”

“Precisely,” you say. “That’s exactly what this is.”

He hesitantly brings his hand up to shake yours, but you quickly withdraw yours at the last second. “Nevermind. I don’t want to touch you.”

“Okay,” he easily accepts, “not how I expected to celebrate getting engaged, but whatever. By the way, when’s the wedding? Are we doing, like, a shotgun destination type vibe? Or something a bit more grand?”

“Just be at the courthouse at noon on Sunday.”

“What?! This weekend? That’s too soon,” he panics, “I need time to pick out a dress, and I need to figure out who my bridesmaids are going to be, and–”

“Satoru. Seriously. Just–...just shut the fuck up. Before the headache that you’ve already given me gets worse.”

You two sit in silence for a moment, him just mindlessly staring at a butterfly that landed on the plant at the center of the table, and you just stare off into the void past him while contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made. But that’s how it always was between you two. As much as you hated to admit it, you were jealous of him in a lot of ways. In every way that you were fucked up, he was nonchalant without a care in the world. You wish you knew what that sort of peace felt like, and you wondered if he could show you. Maybe someday when he doesn’t piss you off.

“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, “are you gonna take my last name?”

“Fuck no, I’d rather die.”

“Alright, jeez, I was just asking.”

.

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[end of chapter 1]

a/n. yayy!!! he said yes!! omg congrats on ur engagement!! haha this was a lot of fun to writeee :'') i've got sm fun ideas for this fic. yea this chap was supposed to be longer lol there's still some groundwork to lay w the side quests, but will def cover more of that in the next chapter!!! tysm to everyone that wanted to be on taglist omg i hope that you enjoyed <33 love uuu guysss smmmm also my bad if some stuff doesnt make sense i'm tryna be less perfectionist when i'm editing so that i don't go insane 😍

➸ take me to chapter two!

taglist: @tremendousbouquetflower @cowgirlcujoh @joemama-2 @shinypearlywhites @sykosugu @lovebittenbyevans @luqueam @bloopsstuff @horisdope @alwaysfreakingout @crammingqueen @rideofthevalkyriess @lavender-hvze @gojocock @ceni707 @jxvajxy @catobsessedlady @madaqueue @bbyxxm @gojostit @nixie-19 @cheezitcracker @polarbvnny @cactisjuice @sleepyyammy @lysaray @k4tsukiis @kortanasworld @megumisthirdog @slut-4-gojo @drakenswifeyy @njoxuzi @elernity @jujutsubaby @secretmoneybearvoid @bunny-lily @strawberrygirl0 @httpxxg @bsdicinindirdim @v4mpieres @nanamis-baker @therealestpussyeater @air3922 @13-09-01 @marija4674 @whereflowerswenttodie @geniejunn @bakuhoethotski @ricaliscious @77uchiha77 @hellowoolf @tobaccosunbxrst @possumwho @nvrgojover @kittygrimm88 @samistars @shiin-ye @billiondollarworth @mmeerraa @fjorjestertealeaf @reinam00n @semra4 @st4ryki @new-weather47 @coltsgf @meownuuuu @strawnanamilk @lees-chaotic-brain @ironhottubstranger @spindyl @aise-30 @dunghirse @r0ckst4rjk @44ina @4y3sh4 @lindyloomoo @sweetpo1son @levisfavoriteteashop @delfiiii @fushitoru @gojosimp26 @beabadobeee @astrokenny @horisdope @muchlov3ashley @geniejunn @the-dark-creature @gojonegs @ritzes28 @mo0nforme @drownedpoetss

hope yalls fries never get soggy ever 💕

[star2fishmeg]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʀᴀᴘs

[4.4k] Pairing | bsf!Luke Hughes x bsf!afab!reader Summary | luke and y/n are tired of feeling left behind and help each other out…but in the company of their friends. but it makes a good story, right? Warnings | 18+ smut, kinda slow start, best friends to lovers, long haired luke!!! Bc I love long hair, umich!luke, (basically public) fingering, swearing, appearance and sex insecurities, tiny bit of angst but not really, mutual pining, making out Authors Note | im in such a luke brainrot it’s painful, this was supposed to be a blurb but I can’t control myself but anyway, this is my first hockey fic i hope its alright. Based on this after hours post! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes

Luke felt like a creep. But she looked so at peace sitting on the lake's docks, feet dangling and toes skimming the water's surface. While she was nothing but a silhouette in the distance, the sunset cascading on the horizon complimenting her like a portrait in a museum. He also wasn’t sure on how long he’d been standing at the sliding patio doors, the UMich boy’s voices blended out into a white noise while his mind wandered to crevices of thoughts he’d been avoiding for months, but anything to escape Ethan and Luca’s conversations about girlfriend stories. Yes, he was happy for them, found it cute in fact, but when was it his turn to have that chapter in his life? He could have it if he didn’t panic and fumble at every party they threw, just a bit more alcohol and maybe he’d have a chance but like all victims of tragedy, no one would ever be her. Could ever replace her or even substitute her. So, while his curls bounced in the gentle breeze, Luke Hughes admired the only girl in the University of Michigan that’s ever made his heart ache and contort in bittersweet ways.

With a firm slap to his back, Luke’s daydream snapped back to reality, to Dylan Duke grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. The most painful thing Dylan had to endure since he met Luke was watching his friend follow y/n like a lost puppy begging for attention, and there was nothing more he wanted than for the two to just kiss already. They almost did, once, at someone’s birthday party when they both nursed a bottle of tequila. But Dylan never told them that, he wasn’t entirely sure if he dreamt it, if he was honest.

“Just go talk to her, be honest,” Dylan said with a light chuckle, nudging Luke towards the porch steps.

Luke’s legs stopped stiff, and spun to face Dylan in protest, “No! What do I even say? ‘Oh, hey y/n I know we’ve been friends for a while, but I’m in love with you haha hope this doesn’t make it awkward’? Like, come on.” With the way Dylan’s grin turned almost menacing, Luke felt his heart almost stop, his stupidity catching up with him, “This stays between us, Duker.”

He groaned and watched Dylan giggle his way back inside. Wingman or menace? Fine line, but at least he was better than Jack. Who quite literally tried trapping him and y/n in a closet when he found out, hoping for the best. Perhaps Dylan would actually help him get somewhere, he’d spent many parties coaxing Luke into making a move but Luke being the humble soul he took pride in, let her have her peace. Oh, how much he regretted it every time he heard her laugh because of another guy.

Thankfully the docks were at the far end of his garden, out of earshot and almost out of sight, if you weren’t spying. He stood silently, just taking in her very existence alone. If she weren’t wearing his hoodie so proudly, he would’ve sat down by now but the heat that flushed into his cheeks prominently just had to ease before he could show his face. Maybe she’d find it cute that his face flushed so easily, or maybe she’d think he was a fool for thinking he had a chance. Girls were hard to read, so many codes and hints, he couldn’t keep up with them all and God forbid you had an ugly code name. Watching her like that did raise the thought, what was his code name? Did he really want to know?

“I can feel you starin’,” her voice chimed, their eyes meeting as she craned her neck, “you gonna join or just stand?”

Luke’s lips pulled into his famous half-smirk, “I like lookin’ at pretty things, can you blame a man?” He sat next to her, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder like they usually did, the weight of his boldness lifting off his chest. “What’s runnin’ through that mind of yours?”

“Who said I was thinking about anything? Maybe I was finally catching a break from the zoo. Maybe I was thinking that you need a haircut.” Her laugh was like music to his ears, her voice his favourite song and every word that rolled off her tongue felt like ecstasy surging through him and freezing the world around them.

Spending a summer in a lake house was the only way y/n ever wanted to live. An oasis of serenity and laughs, endless memories, and an escape. But while she dipped her toes in the water, watching her reflection ripple, the everlasting thought that it was fleeting crawled its way back to the surface whether she wanted it to or not. The boys had been doing this longer than she had, it was her first time at the lake house and possibly her last. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying it while it lasted, being trapped under the same roof as the boys wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed. Except for the smells, they were straight-up disrespectful. Would she still love it as much if she was with other friends? Hard to say, if Luke was there, everything would be fine. Maybe a couple more girls would’ve been nice too, though.

“Please, you’re staring blankly, don’t try me.” Luke scoffed playfully, shoulder gently nudging hers as she rolled her eyes, unable to resist a gleaming smile. As much as she wanted to rebuttal, he was right. They’d met on the first week of university, Luke starting hockey practice and y/n starting as their new social girl and since then the pair of them had been two peas in a pod. Completely enamoured with each other, attached at the hip, where Luke went, he’d bring y/n, his person.  “Wait, you think I need a haircut? Is it that bad?”

She laughed, Luke, stooping so she could thread her fingers through his unruly curls gently, something only she was allowed to do, “Nah, I like your hair long, cut it and I’ll cut you.” They pulled back, sitting in their original postures and watched the sun’s pinks fade to oranges, “I was thinking about how many girls you’ve brought here.”

He blinked twice, turning his head slowly to face her and to his surprise his eyes met hers. There was a gloss to them, illuminated brightly by the sunset but like glass as if she were about to break. Heart beating in his ears, he licked his lips, almost quivering when he began to speak.

“Just you.” His voice just above a whisper, husky, “Only you. Always you.” Their gazes lingered, and his eyes fluttered to her lips for just a split second before he found himself licking his lips again, feeling his throat dry at the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. His heart ached, he didn’t have half the guts the Fantilli brothers did, if he had then maybe he would’ve at least wrapped his arm around her. Instead, he sat like he was paralysed, just shoulder to shoulder as she rubbed her bare foot against his leg, their skins touching, lighting little fires up his body and his stomach gaining a warmth he’d only felt in the after-hours of his bedroom.

“Lu?” she rested her head on his shoulder, staring back out towards the horizon, “Do you ever feel like you’re so far behind the people around you? Like you’re missing out.”

Luke leaned his head against hers, almost nuzzling into it as he thought. It was a heavy question, one that’d been weighing on her for a while. Or he assumed, considering she’d never openly asked the group. That’s what made him feel special. Her feet hung still, ending their teasing game and just fell limp. He exhaled, could he let his pride go and agree? Or could he completely one-up himself and disagree, which made him braver? He loathed the storms she started in him, thoughts he never imagined he would think in his hockey brain. One girl could change his entire train of thought, change his heartbeat, change his mood. One woman he pined like a lost puppy over.

“Sometimes. What do you mean?”

“Like, all my friends have these insane hook-ups and embarrassing sex stories and I have nothing. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends before, but I was younger and stupid then. I go out with my friends and I’m basically invisible to any guy who approaches us, just feel unlovable. And now here I am, twenty years old and a fucking virgin with little experience and no wild stories.” She vented, barely taking a breath as the words spilt from her mouth. Luke’s chest twisted, his face softening when she snuggled into his side. “I don’t know where I’m going wrong, Lu.”

He paused and bit his lip when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest. She melted into his touch, getting a whiff of his woody, amber cologne, her favourite one at that, the one he always wore. She’d never had the chance to properly relish in his touch, was his chest always this firm? Arms always bring this much security? Fuck, when did his hand get so sexy when on her body, gliding down her arm to nestle in the curve of her waist. With her ear pressed to him, the thundering in his chest surrendered his cover entirely. Cool and collected Luke Hughes was secretly a bumbling mess.

“I get you.” he finally spoke, ears burning when her finger traced shapes on his thigh, “My entire life has been hockey, so not a lot of space for experiences either. Not enough time for relationships between practice and games, development camps and time with family. A lot of the girls who liked me didn’t really like that. That or they liked my brothers and friends more, they are a lot more attractive than me, so I don’t blame them. M’just average.”

Y/n pulled away almost instantly, her eyebrows knitted and jaw agape. For a moment she thought she heard him wrong, ‘a lot more attractive than me’, ‘just average’? Delving into Luke’s psyche turned out to be an entirely different road trip than she had thought, heartstrings tugged as her lips fell to a frown. Who in the world made him feel like that? Who did she need to hunt down? But then again, Luke’s blood boiled hearing how insignificant she felt and who exactly made her think that to start with?

“Luke Hughes you are not average! You’re the hottest guy I know!” she yelped, the hand that drew gentle patterns now clutching his thigh tight. Luke gulped but didn’t retract away from the noise. His brain was too busy short-circuiting over the fact her fingers were dangerously close to his crotch, doing his best to contain himself with slow breaths, “They just didn’t give you a chance, if they really knew you, they’d be heads over heels. You’re so fucking smart, and passionate. And-and if they saw you smile for real, not a half-smile, your full smile with your teeth, the one that feels like a warm summer’s day. It’s their loss, they’ll never know how sweet you are, that after a bad game, you want steak and head scratches, that you’re sentimental as fuck- like you wear that Yankees hat because Quinn got it for you when you fell ill and couldn’t make the game. You’re not average.”

Luke blinked, once, twice and thrice as her eyes bored into his, glazed with fire as the words tumbled from her mouth and circled his head. He watched the way her body rose and fell as she caught her breath, the grip on his thigh tightening and heat rising through his body. He felt the sweat building on the back of his neck, his collar suddenly becoming too tight. She thought he was hot? She remembered such little details about him like they’d known each other since they were kids. The hand around her waist slid to her lower back, his thumb rubbing the fabric of her (his) hoodie unconsciously.

He smiled, his warm smile she mentioned, where his eyes wrinkled and his chin tilted up triumphantly, “The hottest guy you know, huh?”

Y/n’s face dropped. Never in her life had she experienced her heart stop the way it did hearing those words. She stared like a deer in headlights, she slipped up and the heat rushing to her cheeks burned. This is what happens when you let your feelings take over, you make a fool of yourself in front of the one person who would never want to. She sighed, hung her head and hid her face in her hands, the butterflies in her stomach choking her when Luke let out a saccharine chuckle that made all the flowers bloom.

Large, warm hands wrapped around her wrists with a feather touch, and slowly pulled her hands away from her face and into her lap, soothing her nerves with a gentle rubbing of her knuckles with his thumbs. Although his hands felt clammy, the tingling in his stomach became too addicting to care about it too much anymore.

“Don’t hide,” she was radiant under what was left of the tangerine hues, eyes almost sparkling, “let me see that pretty face.”

She hesitantly raised her head, eyes meeting his and her body relaxed. She had no idea why she was so embarrassed, he hadn’t gagged, laughed in her face nor had he physically repulsed. Instead, he looked at her like she’d hung out the stars for him, wide eyes with rose-tinted ears.

“I think you’re very pretty too. Beautiful even, I-“ he hesitated, “you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about kissing you, asking you out. Honestly, the idea of you rejecting me is terrifying so I never did, plus, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

Her eyes fluttered to his lips, the world around them falling silent until it was just them in their own bubble. Luke gulped, his eyeline following the way she flickered between his eyes and his mouth before he found their bodies leaning into one another, noses ghosting. His hands released her wrists, one arm snaking around her waist sending an electric tingle through her veins and holding her firmly close. They’d been this close before, sure. Multiple occasions of having his arms around the back of the sofa they sat snug on, arm hooked around her shoulders because some guy couldn’t get the memo at bars, in fact, the root cause of their problem was undeniably because everyone assumed they were together except them.

Y/n’s palm held his cheek tenderly, the hot, carnal desire to devour the boy only being released from its cage when he melted into her touch as if he was opening his doors to vulnerability.

“I can teach you if you like,” she whispered, her thumb tracing across his bottom lip. Luke’s fingers gripped her waist as if she couldn’t be any closer than she already was, but he couldn’t risk letting her slip from his grasp again. He wanted to erase all those other guys who’d kissed her, he would be the last guy on Earth to taste the lips that words and giggles laced with a honey-like sweetness that cradled his heart.

“God, please-“  his heart beat twice as fast, y/n leaning in, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips gently to his. If he were to die right there, he’d die the happiest man alive. Her lips were soft and warm, igniting every firework inside of him and adrenaline shaking him back to life. He could do this for hours, drinking in her citrus fragrance, lips mimicking the way she moved hers against his. If she was a match, he was kerosene and he’d let her set him ablaze over and over if it meant he could feel like the only man in the world until the end of time.

They pulled away, eyes fluttering open to an exchange of giggly smiles. Despite it being a closed-mouth kiss, nothing extra, just soft and sweet, Luke’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. All the weight on his shoulders lifted and he nuzzled into her palm, placing a kiss on it.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, his puppy-like gaze almost distracting her from how his skin burned pink in her palm. But in a way, all her previous anxieties dissipated like dust in the wind, tummy flipping at the pathetically sweet and lovestruck expression spread on Luke’s face, “Your face is so red. Are you okay?-”

“-Can we do that again?” He pleaded, quickly, desperately, a certain yearning feeling on his lips that he couldn’t quite describe, except that he needed to taste her again. He needed more, so much more to quench his thirst, a kind of fuzziness he felt in his core.

“Uh- yeah, let me show you what a real kiss is.” No hesitation was needed, y/n’s hand slid from his cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers carding through his curls as she roughly connected their lips again, messier, teeth chattering from the impact. Luke’s other hand found comfort on her thighs, pulling them over his lap and giving gentle squeezes, moaning when y/n bit his lower lip. He opened his mouth with ease, failing to hold back another moan when her tongue lapped his. He wasn’t sure how to react, he’d never made out with anyone and it’s not like his brothers would’ve explained it well either. So, he repeated her movement, his tongue dancing with hers with saliva lubricating their lips each time they dove back in to devour each other. Y/n tugged his curls lightly, pulling him closer, savouring the kindling arousal leaking into her panties with the way he craved her.

Luke pulled away to breathe, his chest heavy but shorts becoming tight with the intense and fiery eye contact that screamed nothing but lust, “You,” he kissed her again, fervently, “taste,” another kiss, “amazing.” He mumbled into her lips and their tongues stirred again, whimpers drawing from the back of her throat when his hand travelled further up her thigh, under her shorts and found solace on the skin only he could touch. Any further and she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t pounce, her underwear was soaked through and sticking to her folds and even one measly brush on her clit would open the floodgates.

A foreign burst of confidence washed over him, and he detached their lips, a string of saliva between them and her hand still tugging at his curls and whether intentional or not, he discovered something carnal clawing away inside him. Wetting his lips, he dove into her neck, planting wet kisses along her column and nipping in the hope of hearing her mewl again. Y/n tilted her head to the side, giving him free rein over her skin and her jaw slacking, whining his name with her thighs clenching together for any kind of friction. As he began to run his hand along her thigh, his pocket vibrated continuously, earning a growl to rumble from his throat.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” y/n whined, hand falling from his hair to his chest. Luke pulled his phone from his pocket with a disgruntled look, of course, his moment was ruined. Swiping the notification away, he clicked his tongue, sliding his phone back into his shorts.

His arms wrapped around her waist, and looked back into her adoring yet disappointed eyes, “Dylan wants to know if we’re joining them for a movie.”

“I’m quite happy staying here with you.”

“Who says we have to watch the whole movie?”

Silence hung over the living room, only the TV blaring and the light crunching of popcorn from different directions. The lights were off, just the TV and three boys crammed on one sofa, and three plus y/n on the other. Luke, y/n, Rutger and Adam on the sectional directly opposite the TV, Luke occupying the end with the chaise for his legs, and y/n sat between them and huddled under a blanket. Rutger sat in the middle with Adam on the furthest end. Dylan, Luca and Ethan huddled together on the sofa adjacent to the TV, popcorn littered between them from missing mouths and flinching.

Luke’s hands wrapped around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest while she slowly chewed Haribo’s, feeding them to him now and then. While his heart skipped beats, feeling like a meadow of tulips blooming in the Spring, y/n’s wiggling against his crotch lured all the heat and butterflies from earlier straight back to his stomach, sending it into twists and turns. Heat flushed to his neck when she pushed her arse back into him, in an innocent attempt to readjust. A deep exhale through his nose and his hands slithered to her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh like dough as his head dipped into her shoulder, breath hot on the skin and making her hairs stand on edge.

“Stop wigglin’, pretty girl,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, placing a kiss, “you’re drivin’ me crazy.”

She froze, body falling limp into his as he ran his hands under her hoodie, his stiffened cock poking into her backside as she caught on to what his problem was. The sex-deprived whore in her awakened with a jolt, his cock solid because of her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him pressed up against her, unable to find his release and have the rasp of his voice reverberate through her being as her vibrator. 

“And if I don’t?” she whispered back, as close to him as possible without being heard. Instead of answering, Luke dipped his fingers down her shorts, middle finger brushing against her clothed clit. His eyes locked to the screen in front of him, resisting the urge to smirk when her breath hitched but continuing to glide his finger – in what was a lucky guess – over her bundle. She squirmed, clamping her thighs together, only to have them pried open by his free hand.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet, unless you want to be caught.” His playful tone sent chills down her spine, goosebumps swarming on her neck but melting into his touch. She plopped another sweet into her mouth, chewing intensely when Luke drew his long fingers away, only for her to feel them caress over her skin, cold on her warm body, and down her panties. To describe the sensation that zipped through her when the pad of his middle finger reunited with her clit would be the same shock if you were to be struck by lightning: sudden and sharp, rattling up the spine.

Y/n placed the bag of sweets in her lap, tucking both hands under the blanket with the hope of seeming less suspicious, but her hand skimmed down his arm and placed itself on his, slowly guiding his movements on her nub until he got the idea. Firm yet gentle circular movements, the slick seeping from her warm on his fingertips, so inviting he wished he could have a taste. She pulled the blanket to her chin, not only to cover Luke’s sudden mood but to form some form of distraction from the fuzzy feeling rising to her head. No, she’d never had this before, so the experience itself embraced her tight, addicting like nicotine.

He kissed her temple, two fingers sliding into her cunt almost perfectly, too perfect that another Haribo was abused between her teeth as her breathing struggled to remain neutral. The moan that would’ve slipped past if she hadn’t been concentrating would’ve been embarrassing enough. Luke began languid plunges into her, relishing in the way her walls squeezed his fingers tight, keeping shallow at first. The more her pussy swallowed him in their wetness, the faster his mind spiralled in greed and his pace sped up, y/n’s nails digging deep into his leg, leaving crescent shapes on the skin. The heat pooling in her stomach was riveting, knowing she would finally have an insane story to tell even more so. No one could say that Luke Hughes’ tongue tasted theirs like it was the best meal he’d ever lapped up and that he’d watched a movie with his friends while pushing the limits of both his and their sanity publicly.

With a rush of adrenaline and her nails marking him, he buried his fingers deep into her cunt, driving swiftly and curling in places that made her wriggle against him, his free hand having to hold her hips still with a bruising grip and his cock begged for attention in his shorts. Y/n popped two more sweets in her mouth, relying on their gummy nature to suppress the moans that threatened to tear through her as the knot inside her came dangerously close to snapping with the way he bullied her pussy with his bare hands. His breathing fell deep and shuddered, his heart infatuated with the ecstasy of finger-fucking the woman of his dreams in front of an entire room of his friends hammered in his chest while his face struggled to stay indifferent and jaw tight like his cock isn't throbbing violently and straining against her arse. Like she wasn’t bucking her hips into his touch like he couldn’t tell that her heart was going haywire because of just him alone. If this was what foreplay was like, the idea of piledriving balls deep in her until she couldn’t remember her name was divine.

He dragged out his last pumps, the knot in her stomach snapping and coating his fingers in hot, sticky release, kissing her temple upon her body physically shuddering. Y/n pulled the blanket up to her chin as if she had shivered naturally, stuffing her mouth into the fluffy material. Luke pulled his fingers out, wiping the residue on his shorts, practically drooling over the image of milking her dry. His arms snaked around her waist, snuggling close. Y/n sighed, slumping back into him. On the outside Luke was his collected and cool self, his breathing stable and attention on the movie, the heat in his face and hands that rested on her stomach, soothing her heart rate screamed that he was the happiest guy in the room. With every gentle stroke of his thumb on the flesh of her stomach, her heart soothed and her eyelids became increasingly heavier.

"Was that story worthy?" He whispered, kissing her cheek sweetly.

Luke’s pocket buzzed and he tutted, carefully sliding it from his pocket and unlocking it, trying his best to prevent the screen from blinding everyone.

Duker idk if ur freaky or brave u dog

Luke closed his phone and looked up towards Dylan, who sat with a shit-eating grin. He smiled and shook his head, mouthing a subtle, ‘this stays between us’.

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

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[strawberrysands]

Spencer Reid x Reader: he gets shot.

Spencer Reid x Reader

Prompt: Reader is Spencer’s secret girlfriend and works at the hospital when he gets shot.

Warnings: mentions of blood, getting shot (not reader), guns, fluff, a little angst, not proofread

Word count: 1.4k

I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. God, it’s been a long day. You look at your watch and groan; another three hours were left on your shift?

I turn my head as I hear a chuckle next to me, seeing my coworker raise her eyebrows at me.

“Long day?” She asks me.

“You have no idea.” I sigh. “I have touched way more bodily fluids today than I ever intended to in my entire life.”

She chuckles and shakes her head at me. “At least you got someone waiting for you at home.”

I can’t help the blush that appears on my cheeks as she mentions Spencer. Sure, we’ve been together for a while now, but it never got old.

My phone buzzes and I open it, smiling to see a text from Spencer: “We’re heading out now, should be back tonight. Don’t wait up for me ;)”

I quickly reply with a “Stay safe xxx” before returning to the computer in front of me. Those last three hours would feel like days at this rate.

--

An hour or so later, a message over the PA grabs my attention.

“Any available staff, please head to the emergency bay. Male, GSW to the neck.” So I was getting some action tonight.

But oh, I wished I wouldn’t. My eyes grow wide as I recognize who was being reeled in on a stretcher.

“Spencer!” His name had left my mouth before I could stop myself. I rush over to him, putting pressure on his wound.

“His pressure’s dropping!” 

A tear rolls down my cheek as I hear those words, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head. A hand gently pushed me back, struggling against my attempts to get back to Spencer.

“Stop.” Another nurse says. “You’re too close to this. You’re no help in this state.”

I know he’s right, but my heart said otherwise. I stop struggling as Spencer gets reeled into surgery, my arms going limp at my sides as I watch helplessly.

I hadn’t even noticed the people he came in with, since I had never met his team. Their glances my way went unnoticed.

--

My knee bounces as I check the time over and over again.

“Hey.” I look to my right, seeing a woman with colorful clothing and glasses smile kindly at me. “He’ll be alright.”

I nod, not noticing in my own stress how she said ‘he’ or how she seemed to try to convince herself of those words just as much as me.

I shoot up out of the chair I was in when I recognize Spencer’s surgeon come out.

“Is he alright? Is he-“

He interrupts me before I could continue. “He’ll be okay. The surgery went alright. He’s in room 102.”

I can’t help myself as I quickly throw my arms around him. “Thank you.”

The team watches as I quickly make my way to his room.

“Who was that?” Emily asks, but she doesn’t get an answer. The whole team was just as confused as she was.

--

“Did they check your vitals again?” I’m frantic as I check them myself, not waiting for Spencer to answer. “Did they-“

Spencer grabs my hand, pulling me back into the chair beside his bed. “Look at me. I’m okay.”

I quickly shake my head as I sit back down and grab his hand in mine. “You were shot, Spence. You could’ve-“ I cut myself off as I notice the tears that start to well up in my eyes.

“Just- don’t ever do that again.” I kiss his hand, earning a smile from him that I return.

Our moment was cut short when a nurse enters, not even glancing at us as he goes to Spencer’s IV.

“He had antibiotics an hour ago.” I say, frowning at the syringe in his hand. He takes a look at the chart, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t say so here.”

I quickly realize just what type of antibiotics are in the syringe, just as Spencer does.

“Hey, I can’t have those.” He starts, reaching for the nurse. “I have a severe reaction to those, it’s all in the chart-“

When he completely ignores him, I get up. “Hey, stop!”

Just as I grab the nurse’s hand and push it away, I hear Spencer yell. “He has a gun!”

My eyes grow wide as I realize Spencer was right, seeing it just as the nurse pushes me to the floor. I scoot backwards as I stare right down the barrel of the gun. I hear Spencer yell something and commotion outside the room, footsteps coming closer. Just as the man’s hand curls around the trigger, I shoot forward in a moment of bravery.

The sound of the shot has my ears ringing, but the bullet hits the floor just as I grab his legs, tackling him to the floor and kicking the gun away. I’m breathing heavily, wether from the shock or adrenaline, I didn’t know. My hand connects to the man’s face just as the door opens, a rather panicked stern man coming in, other people right on his tail.

I see his lips move but don’t hear him say anything, the ringing too strong. I turn to Spencer to see if he’s alright, finding his eyes already on me. He, too, was saying something as he reached for me, his hand cupping my face.

“Hotch, get him out of here.” I hear Spencer say, my hearing slowly coming back. The stern man from earlier handcuffs and escorts the man out of there, the others behind him staying at the door.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks, his eyes scanning my face for any sort of injury. I cover his hand on my cheek with my own, nodding at him.

“Yeah, I’m just, uh, I-“ I ramble. “I’m okay.”

“I hate to interrupt, but uh-“ I turn around to see the voice coming from one of the people still at the door, black hair adorning her face as she motions to the two of us.

“Oh, yeah, I really wished you would’ve met under different circumstances, but,” Spencer starts, before motioning from me to the others, “this is my team. Emily, Derek, Rossi, JJ, Garcia, Hotch – this is Y/N, my, uh, girlfriend.”

A few looks of shock pass over their faces as I wave at them, a shy smile on my face.

“I really wanted you to meet her, I did, but it’s-“ Spencer starts explaining, but the man called Rossi cuts him off.

“It’s alright, kid. We understand.” He smiles kindly.

“Damn, pretty boy. I’m proud of you.” Derek says, smiling widely at his friend and winking at me.

“Shut up.” Spencer groans, and I can’t help but chuckle. He was never going to hear the end of this.

“You really pack a punch.” Emily says to me, referring to the man whose nose was probably broken.

“Oh, it was probably just the adrenaline.” I say, getting slightly flustered at all the attention.

“Girl, you broke the guy’s nose. That’s impressive.” The blonde woman, JJ, smiles at me.

“Now, everyone get out. I’d like to have my girlfriend to myself, before all of you steal her from me.”

Spencer’s statement earns a round of chuckles from everyone, before finally leaving the two of you alone.

His thumb runs soothing circles across your bruised knuckles, smiling at you. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I know.” I say, grinning. “Your team seems nice. The guy in the suit, Hotch, could loosen up a little though.”

Spencer laughs at that, shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to tell him for years.”

I lean forward, gently brushing your lips against his.

“I love you.” I whisper, feeling Spencer smile against my lips.

--

“He better not let her go.” Rossi says, all of the team watching you through the window.

“How did he not tell anyone for so long? If I had a girlfriend that pretty, I would be boasting about it.” Garcia huffs, shaking her head.

Derek chuckles. “Yes, you would, baby girl.”

Hotch clears his throat. “Don’t you think we’re a bit creepy, just watching them through the window?”

Emily shrugs. “Probably. But they’re too cute, I’m not leaving.”

[luvyeni]

GUYS MY AGE ,, 이민호

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ lee know x fem!reader wc. 6.2k+

genre. neighbors!au , smut

𓄷 includes ... cheating, unprotected sex, oral ( m. receiving ), literally the mother isn't the only sane person im sorry THIS IS PURE FICTION

「 authors note 𖹭 」 here it is the fic , i hope you like it 😅

❪ masterlist! ❫

guys your age never really appealed to you— you liked older men— blame it on your daddy issue, you didn't care; something about an older man just made your heart go crazy— and your panties wet.

“you need to find something to do this summer while you're home.” your mother said, you had made your return home from college for the summer, ready to soak up the sun by your pool in the backyard. “how about getting a job, the couple next door is looking for a babysitter for their three kids while they work.”

your mom watched your face scrunch up in disgust. “why would I want to babysit their sticky children?” you scoffed, picking at your freshly painted nails. “how do you plan on making money then?” you sighed, of course you already planned for this. “Mom, don't worry, I've got it all covered.” you smiled reassuringly; and you weren't lying, you did— but could you really tell your mother you planned on getting money from the many older men you managed to seduce during your time at college. “you better, don't just rot in your room all summer.”

“what if i go help the old lady across the street?” you asked standing up to put your dish in the sink. “Will that ease your worries, mother?” of course you didn't want to do it, but it would make your mother happy. “oh i didn't tell you?” she said, you shook your head, telling her to continue. “her children moved her to a nursing home.” you felt your lip curl up into a smirk. “good she was a bitch.” you said, the grumpy old lady could never stay out of your business. “I really would've hated doing that.”

“yeah she was wasn't she?” she chuckled. “Anyways, the couple who moved in there have only been here for about a month; I see the lady when I'm on my way to work.” she said. “The husband I'm pretty sure stays at home and work— you should introduce yourself, let them know who you are.” you really didn't want to; but the look in your mother's eyes, you could tell she wasn't asking you. “Fine, I'll do it later, happy?” your mother turned the water off, kissing your head. “ecstatic, im gonna get ready for work.”

“what are you doing?” jisung spoke through the phone; your bestest friend in the whole world— and your biggest enemy too. “well since you decided to flee the fucking country this summer; leaving me here.” you scoffed. “I'm stuck here rotting in my home.” you saw him smile; you scoffed before he spoke up. “Sorry, it was a last minute trip with felix.” Felix was his boyfriend; his very rich boyfriend. “yeah well while you're being wined and dined throughout europe, i’m stuck here.” you laid flat on your stomach, legs in the air.

“Remember when you left me in the dorms during spring break?” he asked. “And that business man took you to hawaii? consider this as pay back.” you rolled your eyes. “fuck you, that trip was horrible anyway, all he did was work and complain about how much he hated his hate wife— we had sex once the entire trip.” you scoffed. “You got a Gucci bag out of it though.” you hummed; he was right. “best thing to come out of it.”

“oh yeah.” you were now sitting up. “Remember the old lady across the street from me?” you asked. “yeah she was a bitch.” you nodded. “Her kids finally did everyone a favor and put her in a home.” he clapped. “good riddance, so did anyone move in that house?” you hummed. “yeah a married couple, mom wants me to introduce myself, let them know i'll be here for the summer.”

“yeah it would be confusing to see a girl in a skimpy ass bathing suit sunbathing in her front yard.” you shrugged; the sun just hit better in the front of your house. “Keep her husband on a leash, like the rest of the house wives on your street do when they see you coming, I wouldn't be too surprised if they already got to her.” you laughed, you never really cared what those women thought about you; you never really cared about their husbands, it was more so the other way around. “I really don't care about those housewives, their problem is their husbands and their wandering eyes, not me.” You defended.

“I should go introduce myself before my mom gets home.” you said. “Yeah, I have to go, Felix wants to go for food; call you later?” you nodded. “Yeah, if you aren't getting your back blown out.” his face turned red. “He's in the room.” he gritted through his teeth. “hi yn.” you heard his deep voiced boyfriend shout. “Hi Felix.” you laughed. “I hate you so much.” jisung said, you laughed. “Love you too!” You waved goodbye, hanging up the phone.

You didn't bother getting yourself together; throwing on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top— they're your neighbors, the next time you'd see them is when you're dragging your exhausted body back into your home from your morning run, and that's even worse.

you made your way out of your house; knocking on the door of the house, your phone buzzing— jisung sending you a photo of his french cuisine. “lucky bitch.” you typed into your phone. “Bring me back a souvenir from paris.” you didn't bother to look up from your phone, so you didn't hear the door open. “Excuse me?”

The deep voice made you look up from your device; and it was like a god was standing right in front of you. “How can I help you?” he asked , you shook every dirty thought that ran through your head at that moment; putting your phone away. “O-oh sorry.” you chuckled. “I didn't hear the door open.”

The man was clearly at least a decade older than you; you could see the few gray hairs in his head— that didn't matter to you though. “I said how can I help you?” he said, his voice deep and sexy. “I'm yn, I live across the street.” you pointed. “my mother thought it would be a good idea to introduce myself so there wouldn't be any confusion this summer.” you said. “I just got home from college for summer break.”

“College?” He said, you nodded. “yup, my second year is done!” You chirped, this corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “You won't be a problem right?” You were taken aback by the question, he chuckled. “Parties love, pretty girl like you; surely you're popular.” he said, but you stopped at him calling you pretty; smiling widely at him. “I won't have to worry about loud music and young adults passing out in your front yard right?” you could see his eyes wandering down; stopping right at your chest. “My wife hates the music you kids listen to.”

Right, his wife; he was married, the way he was practically trying to look through your shirt made you forget. “Oh no sir, most of my friends are on vacation.” he nodded. “im minho.” he held his hand out. “Well it's nice to meet you, yn.” he said, you nodded; your eyes scaling his body, much like he did to you; he was pretty fit for someone his age. “How old are you sir?” he raised his eyebrows; what an odd question. “34.” just around your age range. “and since we're asking those kinds of questions,” he said. “May I ask how old you are?” maybe it was a delusion, or maybe he actually was flirting with you— whatever it was, you liked it. “I'm 23 sir.”

“You're still pretty young,” he said; you tilted your head to the side, folding your arm with a frown. “but I am an adult.” you challenged; he nodded, clicking his tongue almost in an annoyed state; it made you smirked; you could read him like a book; he hated being challenged. “still a young girl in my eyes.” you wanted to roll your eyes, and he could see that; he could read you as much as you could him. “I have to get back to work now.” He said, you stepped back. “I'm sure you have things as well, whatever you little girls do these days.” he said, watching your jaw clench. “Remember, no loud crazy parties.”

“Can't promise that sir, it is summer.” was the last thing you said, before turning away; crossing the street, leaving him standing there, watching you go into the house; also getting a peek of your ass. He smirked, walking back into his house, closing the door. “Who was that?” He was quickly brought back to reality by his wife's voice. “at the door, who was it?”

“Oh the woman across the street.” he said walking straight past her into the kitchen. “What did she bring this time?” She followed behind him. “She's sent over 3 plates of cookies in the past month we've been here.” she said. “they aren't even that good; mines are way better.” minho rolled his eyes, they actually weren't, he knew the lady ran her own bakery and his wife barely knew the difference between melted and softened butter. “Of course they are honey.”

“So where are they?” she asked, searching for a plate. “The cookies.” She said, “Oh, you didn't let me finish.” Yeah he was being condescending, but his wife never noticed. “It wasn't her, it was her daughter,” he said, opening the fridge for water. “She's home from college.” He went to walk away, but his wife stood in front of him, her face in a frown. “how may I help you? I need to get back to work.”

“You are to stay away from that girl.” She said, he stared at her confused. “I mean it's not like I'm gonna ask her to come out and get beers with me, she's 23; we have nothing in common.” he said, trudging past his wife, making his way up the stairs. “She's a college student.” he said; very attractive but a college student nonetheless.

he made it back to his office, about to close the door and get back to work; when his wife burst in. “What is now?” He said sitting down. “The other wives.” she started. “They told me things about that girl.” She said, “like what?” He said; what could you have done to offend the housewives of the block. “Back talked to them in an argument; she's a young girl, they all do that.” he laughed, he could believe it; he witnessed it only a few minutes ago — except it turned him on.

he watched his wife scoff, he adjusted himself in his pants as she closed her eyes letting out a big sigh; he felt a rant coming on. “No, they told me she's been seducing their husbands since the day she turned 18.” He looked at his wife. “what?” he said. “Yeah, wearing tiny tiny clothes; flirting with their husbands, and her mother is none the wiser.” he shook his head. “Is she really seducing them, or is she a young pretty girl and they're just bitter miserable wives who can't control their husbands' wandering eyes?”

“Are you defending her?” he sighed, rubbing his temples; he didn't really want to have this conversation. “no I'm not honey, I'm just saying don't believe everything these housewives say.” He said. “yeah well I don't trust her, so stay away from her.” she said, he nodded; just ready to get her out of the room, he was busy; and not to mention his cock was hardening at the thought of you in one of those tiny tiny outfits the desperate housewives told his wife about. “yeah fine, I'll stay away from her.”

“Thank you.” she bent down kissing his forehead. “I love when you actually listen to me.” She said smugly as she walked out closing the door; it pissed him off, not like his banter with you— no that turned him on. “fuck.” he sighed doubling over , his cock throbbing in his pants, you were already driving him crazy.

You hadn't seen him much after that; only glimpses of him walking into his house with groceries, or getting into his car, and even then he looked good; making the spot in between your legs tingle — sure he was married, but it wasn't like you were doing anything wrong; what's wrong with a little fantasy inside your head, something to think about late at night when you had your hand down your sleep shorts, pretending it was him in between your legs, his hands instead of yours.

you did see his wife though, even though it was against your will every single time; and you hated it every single time, she ran the same route as you in the morning but at a later time; so when you were finishing your walk; she was just starting hers.

“Goodmorning.” Her smile was so fake as you slowed down , stopping in front of your mailbox. “How are you?” she yelled from across the street. “I’m fine.” You smiled , so desperate to get into the house; you were sweating and hungry— and you really didn't want to talk to this lady. “I'm good.” You said. “No plans this summer?” she asked. “Not really; most of my friends are back where I go to college.”

She then went on a rant of all the different jobs you could be doing. “Baby sitting, have you ever thought about that; of course you'd have to change your wardrobe a bit , it would be a bit inappropriate to wear some of the things you wear around kids wouldn't it?” this bitch was really working on your nerves. “If you have any kids , then I would be happy to watch them.”

“God no.” There he was again, walking out of the door. “No kids here,” he said. “We have our three cats and that's it.” his eyes scanning your outfit; your skin still glistening with sweat; he was seriously checking you out in front of his wife. “Well I love cats!” you jumped a bit; tits bouncing at the impact. “So cute.”

You knew what you were doing; and so did minho— his wife was quick to end the conversation between you too. “Well I'm sure you're busy, and it's time for my run.” she said. “And don't you have to feed the cats honey?” she said, turning to him, grabbing his arm. “what? oh yeah the cats.” He said. “yeah the cats , go feed them.” she said. “Okay baby.” he said; she turned to you smugly. “Well I better get going.” She said before she started down the street catching up with the other wives she ran with.

“Your wife doesn't like me very much.” He stopped; turning where you stood across the street, in a sports bra that held your tits perfectly; leggings that made your ass pop; and a smirk on your face— he so desperately wanted to fuck off. “I don't know she seemed to like you very much.” you knew he was joking. “it would be inappropriate to wear some of the things you wear, she basically called me a whore in housewives language.” You chuckled , folding your arms under your tits , forcefully pushing your boobs up. “don't worry, I don't care; the housewives on this block have said worse.”

“yeah like what?” he said , stuffing his hands into his pockets. “that I'm just a whore put on earth to seduce their husbands.” you said , a laugh following. “I'm not worried about their husbands, but I can't say the same for their husbands.” You shrugged. “oh really?” He said, you nodded. “but hey it's not my problem, they like to stare.” you shrugged, he did that sexy eyebrow raise again. “They do, don't they?”

Fuck you knew what you were doing; and not only did it piss him off, it fucking turned him on. “I can't say I don't like the attention though.” you said, watching him shift from side to side. “who wouldn't?” he had to get away before he came across the street and dragged you into his house; then he heard it, the meow of the cats. “oh shit.” he said, making you laugh. “time to feed the cats sir.” You waved. “Have a nice day.” you made your way into the house, making sure to sway your hips, giving him a good view of your ass.

“I'm telling you sung he wants to fuck me.” you said; your friend shook his head. “Wow, that took you not only a week.” He said. “He's married, no?” You shrugged. “and that's my problem?” You said. “I said he wants to fuck me, he knows he married.” Morally yes it was fucked up, but you didn't really care. “yeah but the wife already hates you, she finds out you want to fuck her husband.” he said. “you've never seen an episode of snapped? deadly women?” you shook your head. “i’d rather start the semester with you and not the memory of you.”

“How hot is he exactly?” you sent him a photo that you stole from his social media— yes you stalked him. “Oh wow.” he said. “yah.” You heard felix in the background. “Hey lix.” you said. “yn don't die trying to fuck a married man.” The blonde said. “I won't lix don't worry, don't kill my friend in milan.” you responded. “i can't promise you that if he doesn't stop looking at that fucking photo.” you laughed as he slapped the phone. “hey! let me talk to my friend in peace.”

“you want to fuck him too huh?” you heard him say. “no you know I only want to fuck you.” you shook your head. “i'm hanging up before I witness a live amateur porn.” you said. “Call me later.” You hung up. “Now what?” you said.

You decided to go sunbathing; finding your favorite bikini, grabbing your towel and sunscreen and favorite book. “Where's my daughter off now?” your mom said. “sunbathing.” you said grabbing some snacks. “In the front yard?” You nodded. “Have fun, I have work today.” you hummed, making your way outside, you set up your things right in front; taking your shirt off laying down on the towel , feeling the sun beaming down on you.

“Are you kidding me?” minho heard his wife's voice. “Is she serious right now?” He stood up from his office chair , making his way to their shared room, where his wife was standing in front of the window. “What's wrong now?” He said. “she's out there in a bikini and shorts; laying in the sun.”

“Okay?” He said, she scoffed. “Everyone can see her , what kind of slut wears that in front of her house.” she said, he made his way over to the window. “There's no one out there.” He said, she glared at him. “Move, I'm going to the grocery store.” she pushed past him. “You already went to the grocery store.” he said following behind. “this is for the barbeque.” she said. “What barbeque?” he said , they both made their way outside to the car. “I told you we're hosting the barbeque at our house.”

“seriously; we just moved here,” he said. “even more reason for us to do it.” she picked his lips. “Who's gonna be there?” he asked. “Everyone on the block.” he did not feel comfortable having all those people running in and out of his house, but his wife was dead set, so it was already set and stone. “Hello!” The couple turned their heads to the voice.

“I'm off.” your mom came out of the house. “Okay!” you said looking up from the book. “Oh there go the Lee's.” she said , you sat up watching the couple walk out of the house. “Hello!” your mom waved brightly at them. “Oh hello!” You covered your eyes from the sun. “Yn don't be rude, say hello.” Your mom said. “Hi.” you waved, his wife didn't say anything. “Hello yn.” he said, you smiled at the way he said your name. “Where are you two off to today?” your mom asked. “Oh just to get some things for the barbeque we're throwing for the block.”

“Oh that sounds fun!” your mom said. “you're welcome to come.” she turned to you; her smile was different towards you than your mother. “You to yn, you're both welcomed.” she said, the invitation mostly towards your mom. “Oh thank you, we'll be there.” the other woman nodded. “Great!” you and minho made eye contact , you smiled. “can't wait.”

It was finally the day of the barbeque; your mother forcing you across the street with the cookies in her hand. “You're not gonna rot in the bed today.” You groaned. “i don't want to be here with these people.” she ignored you, knocking on the door. “It's only for an hour.” she said. “you know that cute boy down the street, he'll be here.” she winked , you cringed. “Why do you keep trying to marry me off to him?” you said. “because you can't spend all your time with jisung, even he has a boyfriend.”

the door opened , minho stood there. “hello.” your mom held out the plate of cookies. “mhm , my favorite.” he smiled. “thank you.” he stood to the side. “Everyone is in the back,” he said. “Thank you for inviting us.” your mother said. “No problem, you've been so nice to us with these cookies ever since we moved here,” he said. “Me and my wife really enjoy them,” he said. “I'm glad , come by the shop and I'll give you some free cupcakes.” she said. “Thank you ma’am.”

You two made it to the back where everyone was. “There's seungmin over there.” your mom pointed. “go talk to him.” Minho watched you stomp over to the boy, your mom making her way over to a group of women; his eyes scanning your outfit, your mini skirt sitting right below your ass, the shirt you wore barely covering your plush boobs; fuck he just wanted to stick his cock in between them. “fuck.” he cursed.

“you okay man?” Chan, another neighbor, came up to him. “yeah I'm fine.” he said , not taking his eyes off of you. “I see you've met yn.” the older guy chuckled. “yeah I guess.” He said. “Listen, let me give you some advice.” Chan said. “fuck your wife.” Minho turned to him. “What?” he said, the Australian laughed. “I know what you're thinking; wife being a bit of a bitch, barely having sex.” He chuckled, that was exactly his story. “Here comes this young girl with a nice ass and a good pair of tits , batting her eyelashes, a bit of a brat?”

“You seem to know a lot.” He said. “because I was you, man.” Chris said, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “But you know what I did? i went home and fucked my wife.” he said. “forgot all about it.” he said. “I'm telling you it's not worth it.” he said. “Fuck your wife.”

He knew Chan was right, but that didn't stop him from looking at you; his eyes meeting yours. you tilted your head to the side, your sultry smile as you say your goodbyes to seungmin, making your way over to him, he looked around making sure your mom or his wife wasn't paying attention , as you finally were standing in front of him. “Can I use your bathroom?”

He didn't have to follow you; he could've just given you the directions— but he really wasn't thinking; and he wished he would have been. “You have a nice home.” You said. “Thank you.” He said watching you purposely sway your hips side to side. “fuck.” he says to himself. “huh?” you asked , but you can hear him , he could see you smirking teasing him. “fucking brat.”

you definitely heard him this time, you laughed. “sir what's wrong?” you went to touch his shoulder in fake concern. He grabbed your wrist, pushing you against the wall. “fuck why couldn't you just stay away?” he growled. “Am I really to blame?” you took your other hand , traveling down to his waist. “Yn.” He weakly warned. “You can stop me if you want.” you said , your hand inching further— right to his cock, giving it a little squeeze. “fuck.” He groaned. “but I don't think you want me to.”

this was it; you finally were gonna get what you've wanted all this time; married or not you wanted his cock inside of you. “your wife doesn't have to know.” that's what set him off , grabbing the back of your head. “fuck shut up.” He said. “Get on your knees.” he said , roughly pushing you down. “you thought you were gonna get fucked didn't you?” you hissed as he yanked your hair. “too bad I'm just gonna stuff my cock down your throat and you're gonna take it like the little slut you are.”

he used his other hand to pull down his pants , freeing his cock from his underwear; his stock almost hitting you in your face. “you're so big” he hissed as you gave the tip of his cock a kiss. “yeah, want my cock down your throat.” He stroked his length in front of your face. “Fuck.” he slapped his cock on your lips. “open up.” he his tip against your lips. “fuck.”

He slowly pushed his cock into your mouth , holding your head still as he forced his cock down your throat. “shit your little throat taking my cock so good.” he hissed. “go-gonna fuck your face.” he moved his hips , holding the wall above your head, his balls slapping against your chin as he fucked your face in the middle of the hallway of the house he shared with his wife. “fuck I'm gonna cum.” he moaned. “fuck fuck fuck.” he thrusted a few more time , pulling out of your mouth , stroking his cock vigorously. “shit I'm cumming!” he shouted , his warm sticky cum shooting from his cock hitting your face. “Fuck.”

He looked down at your smiling cum covered face. “You tasted good.” you said wiping some off your cheek , putting your fingers to your mouth. You stood up , holding his cock in your hand, stroking it. “You came so much , it must've been a while.” he hissed. “sh-shit.” He said. “dont you want to fuck me?” He did, fuck he really did. “m-my wife.” he groaned. “outside.” you sighed, you forgot about the party. “I guess we'll have to wait.” you let his throbbing cock go. “Fuck I'm still hard.” he groaned.

You chuckled, wiping the rest of his cum off face. “thats too bad, I know you had a bunch of more cum for me.” he wanted to drag you up to his room and fuck you into the mattress, damned everyone in the back. “fucking brat.” he hissed, you kissed the corner of his mouth with a smile. “When does your wife leave for work?”

“11.” he said , you nodded. “I'll be here at one.” That's all you said before leaving him standing in the hall, guilt building in his stomach, not only did he just cheat on his wife— he knew he was gonna do it again.

he cleaned himself up; going back to the party. “Hey minho.” your mother came up to him. “Have you seen yn, she seemed to have escaped.” of he did. “um she said she wasn't feeling good so she headed home,” he said. “that girl, always something.” she shook his head. “What's wrong?” his wife came over. “oh nothing yn got sick and had to go home.” he could see his wife's smile, luckily your mom didn't see it. “Awe too bad.” she said. “I guess I better go see if she's okay, I had a nice time.” your mother said, before excusing herself.

“don't worry i didn't poison her.” she said, he stared at her. “laugh minho it's funny.” she kissed his lips before walking away, he made eye contact with Chan who gave him a nod— if only he knew it was too late for him.

He did completely ignore chris's word , as soon as the last person was gone, and the house was quiet and clean again; he brought his wife up to their room. “fuck minho!” his wife shouted as he fucked into her. “fuck faster.” he held her hips down as he plowed into her , wishing it was you that was under. “minho fuck!” his wife shouted into his ear. “Wait, don't go so fast.” she moaned, but all he could he do was imagine it was you , yelling for him to go faster , fuck you harder and faster. “Minho I'm cumming.” his wife shrieked. “fuck wait I'm not there yet.” he groaned, he knew once she was finished he wouldn't be able to continue. “fuck I'm cumming.” she shouted. “fuck I came Minho , pull out.”

he sighed, pulling out , laying on his back cock still hard. “fuck.” He cursed. “That was so good.” his wife laid breathless next to him. “But you were a bit too rough , next time don't go so hard.” He wasn't worried about that, he was too focused on his throbbing cock. “Hey, can you help me with this?” he said. “I can't tonight, I'm too tired and I have work in the morning.” she kissed his cheek. “I'm sure you can handle yourself.”

he watched her turn on her side, turning the light off leaving him in the dark , unable to sleep due to his cock. “fuck.” he cursed as he wrapped his hands around his length, thinking about how tight your throat felt around his cock , the way you gagged around his length; spit coming from your mouth, so messy. “fuck.” he moaned , cumming all over his hand to the thought of you.

he grabbed a tissue off the nightstand; wiping himself clean , throwing the tissue into the trash. He climbed back into the bed, pulling the covers over his body; his wife snoring beside him, he turned the light on his side off— he really tried to listen to what chan said, but he was far too gone.

he knew he was gonna fuck you when you came over tomorrow.

“Wait girl, did you really think this through?” jisung said. “I thought we were joking about this,” he said. “did you already fuck him?” he questioned. “not exactly.” you said. “what does that mean?” Felix said both of them invested now in their hotel room in Belgium. “I may or may not have given him head yesterday at the barbeque.” Both of their mouths dropped. “Are you kidding?” you shook your head. “oh my god yn you're insane.” jisung said. “How didn't his wife catch you?” you shrugged. “I don't know.”

“It's 11:30 now , are you gonna go?” felix asked, you looked at the clock. “maybe.” you said. “I know I really shouldn't support this.” jisung said. “but you're gonna do it anyway aren't you?” he asked. “i think his wife is leaving now , you got up looking out the window, sure enough she was walking to her car. “yeah it's her she's leaving now.” you spoke into the phone— fuck it. “I'm going.” you said. “Please don't get caught in his bed by his wife.” jisung said. “and don't get pregnant.” you hung up , getting dressed.

your mom had already left so you didn't have to explain to her why you suddenly were leaving; in the shortest skirt possible you might add, slipping on your shoes , opening the door to your house. you kept an eye for nosey housewives as you made your way across the street , knocking on the door; still keeping an eye out for people. the door opened up, revealing the man himself. “hi.”

before you could say something; he was dragging you into the house, closing the door, slamming you against it. “Jesus you're really eager aren't you?” you teased , he growled pressing you against the door. “I'm so fucking hard right now.” he said. “I can feel your cock throbbing , you're still thinking about my throat aren't you?” you squeezed his cock. “Is your wife not giving you head?” You pouted , “poor you.”

he was ready to take you against the door , but instead he forced himself away. “upstairs,” he said. “now.” you heard his commanding tone, he guided you to his room , slapping your ass, pushing the door open. “short fucking skirt , what's the point of it?” he growled , pulling you by the waist of the skirt, unbuttoning the button, pulling it down , leaving you in your panties. “take your shirt off.” you obeyed him , pulling the shirt over your head , he palmed his cock watching you undress.

“fuck get on the bed.” this was the bed he shared with his wife , but you could care less at this moment , spreading your legs for the older man , your wet cunt on display. “so fucking messy.” he pulled his pants down , revealing his underwear. “gonna use that cunt.”

he got on the bed , rubbing your clothed cunt. “fuck s-sir.” he smirked. “You like calling me sir.” he pulled your panties to the side, rubbing his cock along your folds. “You love cock that bad that you'd fuck anyone.” he groaned as he slid the tip of his cock in. “fuck a married man?” You moaned feeling his cock stretching you out. “pl-please fuck me.”

he fully bottomed out inside you. “fuck your pussy is so tight.” he groaned. “you-you're so big.” you moaned. “Please move.” you begged , he pulled out, before slamming back into you. “oh fuck!” you shrieked , clutching the bed sheets below you as he began to plow into you. “fuck I want you to cum all over my cock.” he hissed as you tightened around him. “fuck I'm gonna cum sir.” you moaned, your legs shaking. “fuck i'm cumming.”

a white ring formed around the base of his cock as he kept fucking into you. “gonna cover your pussy in my cum.” he hissed, his hand coming up to your boob to squeeze it. “fuck I'm gonna cum.” he cursed , pulling out cumming all over your cunt. “shit.” he tapped his cock on your cunt. “fuck, come here.”

he grabbed waist, flipping you over. “ass up.” he lifted your hips up; rubbing his cock along your folds. “You want my cock again?” you nodded. “Pl-please fuck me, want your cock sir.” he groaned. “yeah, want my cock?” he held the base of his cock coated with your juices, slapping your ass. “come on slut , fuck yourself on my cock.”

you pushed yourself back on his cock, both of you moaning out again. “that's it , stretch yourself out with my cock.” He groaned , grabbing your hip. “fuck i can't take it.” he pushed your head against the pillow , plowing into you. “fuck , that's it.” he groaned. “how does it feel being fucked past your limits by a married man?” he groaned. “so-so good.” your words barely audible due to your face being pushed against the pillow. “My wife lays her head right where you're drooling like a brain dead slut.”

you felt the knot in your stomach forming again. “You gonna cum again?” he said , his cock twitching. “ye-yes , please let me cum.” you begged. “no need to beg , I'm gonna let you cum slut.” he slapped your ass. “go ahead cum all over my cock.” your legs gave out as you cum , but he didn't stop , and you didn't want him to either. “fu-fuck I'm gonna cum.” he whimpered. “fuck.”

“i-inside.” You moaned. “fu-fuck I can't.” he groaned. “pl-please , cum inside me.” his hips twtiched as you tightened around him. “of fuck I'm cumming, gonna give you what you want.” he whispered in your ear , biting down on it as he came inside you. “fuck.” he drawed out as he came , his cum flooding your abused cunt. “shit.” he cursed, pulling , watching his cum leak out of you, it was probably the best thing he'd seen in a long time , he slapped your ass. “such a good pussy.”

“you don't feel guilty?” you asked , laying in his arms , it has been a while and it finally hit you while you laid in his arms , naked— in the bed he shared with his wife. “I guess,” he said. “what if we get caught?” you asked. “We won't.” he said. “She leaves everyday except for Sundays at 11.” he said. “she leaves; you come over and I take you on different surfaces of the house.” he bit your neck before kissing where he bit at. “she’ll be none the wiser.”

“And when I go back to school?” you didn't live far , but it was still a drive. “We'll figure it out , I'll drive the 2 hours if I have to.” he said. “you'd drive two hours there and back every weekend just to fuck me?”

he flipped you over , you yelp; feeling his cock against your folds. “fuck.” he cursed. “for this pussy?” he pushed his tip in. “fu-fuck yeah , I'd drive for it.”

“Now we still have 4 hours left and I want to spend as much time as I can inside this pretty cunt.”

©️LUVYENI

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

a new life is born | s.r. x fem!reader

“congratulations mom and dad, it’s a healthy baby girl.” the doctor confirmed for both of you while the nurses worked to clean your new born. your skin was sweaty, baby hairs stuck to your forehead, legs were shaky from being bent for the past hour. you’ve been in the hospital since last night once your contractions started.

but you were a mom now. you birthed a babygirl and you couldn’t be happier with your life. turning your head to the left with a dazed smile, stood spencer with the widest smile you’ve seen on his face to date. “a girl. we have a little girl,” chuckling from glee.

“we have a girl,” he repeated as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead and tuck some of your hair away. “i want her to be just like you,” very confident in the chances of that happening.

spencer shook his head, “for your sake i hope not and for my heart i hope she looks like you.” a gentle finger tracing over your nose, the shape of your lips. “well i only hope she doesn’t get your puppy eyes, it’ll be her one power over both of us.” staring directly into said eyes right now.

“alright, she’s ready for you.” a nurse walked to your right side with your baby, now wearing a pink bow. “would you like to do skin to skin? helps her recognize you through touch. also good for the dad as well.” waiting for either to reply first.

“i’ll go first.” shimming your hospital gown away from your shoulder and chest so there was enough surface area, “i have a feeling i’m gonna fall asleep soon, but i’m gonna hold her until i can keep my eyes open.” holding your hands out to take her then second guessing and getting them in the cradle position but still not sure, “uh, which is better?” asking the nurse who hovered.

“i’d say hands so you can lay her to your chest. cradling is better for later.” nodded and slowly took your baby from the nurse and maneuvered her tiny self so her head was resting on your shoulder. “oh wow,” whispering to yourself. it completely sunk in now, she’s yours.

“i’m a freaking mom,” whispering over her back towards spencer. a slow palm rubbed along her back and quickly her breathing synced with yours, her tiny fists were too cute.

there was a little space on your bed and you called for spencer to join you. he sank down slowly and threw a long arms over your shoulder, his free hand caressing your forearm. “what should we name her? we can’t call her fruits anymore.” whispering beside your ear.

your mouth twisted, “i kinda want to name her after something from literature. like juliet or charlotte. do you have any ideas?” turning his way.

his eyes were focused on the sleeping babe, a little smile quirking a corner of his lips. “maybe annabeth. the combination of anna and elizabeth forms the meaning of god has favored me. and i think that works for us as well, we’ve been favored by having her. also anna can mean beautiful and it’s all because of you.” kissing your temple, his kisses have been never ending the past nine months.

“annabeth… annabeth diana reid. our beautiful gift.” pressing her first kiss of many to her head. “i think it’s your turn now. my eyes are getting heavy.”

spencer nervously started to unbutton his shirt and then slowly you traded off. you watched as spencer stood back up and kept a gently motion to his body wanting her to continue napping. he kept his voice low as he recited facts about anything, knowing she’s gonna love the sound of his voice growing up.

“can you tell us a story?” something you’ll ask spencer from time to time when you needed just a little push into dreamland. “of course, sweetheart. i’ll do my favorite book from childhood, alice in wonderland. once upon a time there was a girl named alice…”

[junrenjun]

love and lacrosse jackets

pe teacher!vernon x chemistry teacher!reader (fem)

genre: fluff

wc: 3k

warnings: reader is referred to as ms. (and other fem pronouns), reader wears vernon's clothes

a/n: this is not an understand series update and i apologize for that. however, here's a vernon teacher au with a little side of lacrosse and dad!seungcheol

You were suddenly thrown out of your thoughts by one of your students sighing and turning from her worksheet. “Ms. y/n, can I ask a question?” 

You knew this student, Maya, was likely trying to get out of doing her assignment. She was too smart for her own good. “Depends. Is it about the worksheet?” 

She paused for a second, turning her head slightly away in order to avoid your gaze. “...no.”

You continued. “Do you need to go to the bathroom or the nurse?”

Maya sighed and mumbled, “no.”

You turned back to your computer while giving your final response. “Then I think you know the answer. I would be happy to talk to you once you’ve balanced all those equations.” 

You should’ve known she wasn’t giving up that easily. If anything, she probably gave up halfway through the worksheet because she knew the answers and was just looking for something to entertain herself. “Mr. Chwe lets us ask him questions all the time.”

You snorted. “Mr. Chwe is a PE teacher Maya. You don’t have worksheets to do in his classes. Unfortunately, you do in chemistry. So please finish this or at least study for your quiz next week.” 

Maya was apparently taken aback by this. She was quick to defend herself, saying, “how do you know we don’t do worksheets in PE?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Maybe you should've been a college professor instead of a high school teacher. “I’m the girls lacrosse coach and he’s the boys coach. We spend a lot of time together and I’ve never once seen him make a worksheet.” 

An evil grin spread across Maya’s face. You internally groaned at this. That expression means she’s up to absolutely no good. She turned and tapped on her partner’s arm. Great, now she’s distracting other students too. “Henry, wouldn’t Ms. y/n and Mr. Chwe make a cute couple?” He grinned and started going off on a tangent about how funny it would be if the two lacrosse coaches were dating. 

This conversation really took a turn for the worse, didn’t it? There’s nothing you could do but groan, out loud this time, and put your head in your hands. Your neighboring teacher, Mr. Seokmin, really has impeccable timing though. He stuck his head through your door and grabbed your attention a few moments later. “Hey Ms. y/n, do you have a student that can run an errand for me real quick?”

Now was your chance. “Maya, since you seem to have no interest in balancing any more equations, why don’t you go help Mr. Seokmin?”

Before she could protest, the physics teacher grinned brightly at her before exclaiming, “perfect! Come on Maya, I need someone to help me carry these projects to the library.” Once she was finally out of the room, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

It didn’t last long though because your other students suddenly started giggling and murmuring amongst each other. Henry, who was still turned toward you, decided he needed to continue Maya’s antics in her absence. “You did say you and Mr. Chwe were close.” More giggles were heard. 

You’re not sure what you did to deserve this treatment from your 3rd hour honors class of all people, but clearly it was something. “Alright if you all don’t go back to your work I’m not offering any extra credit on this next quiz.” The rest of the hour passed in silence. 

“What’s with the long face?” Vernon thought the joking would cheer his best player up, but it just made Henry frown even more. 

After a few moments of silence, he finally answered, “I had a quiz in chemistry today. Don’t think I did too well on it.”

Vernon was quick to ask him which teacher he had. “Your favorite, Ms. y/n,” Henry responded. 

The PE teacher rolled his eyes at the comment but still clapped his hand on the player’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, kid. She offers extra credit. But she also told me you and Maya were pestering her the other day instead of doing your work, so maybe you should put a little more effort into understanding the material next time.”

Henry grumbled, knowing nothing good would come of an argument. “Yeah, whatever you say Coach.” Then, he dropped his bag on the ground and ran out onto the field to start warming up.

Vernon felt someone approach him from behind. “See dude, even the kids can pick up on you and y/n’s chemistry. Haha, get it? Chemistry? Y/n teaches chemistry.” The head coach could barely restrain himself from flicking Mingyu in the forehead. He was a great assistant coach, but an incredibly annoying friend. 

“Why can’t I just be friends with a coworker and fellow lacrosse coach?” Vernon complained. Mingyu simply watched on as his friend continued. “Just because we’re both single doesn’t mean we should get together. I mean she’s really cool and works really well with the kids. And she’s an insane lacrosse player, an even better coach too. I think she could get the girls to state this year. I just think…” He’s cut off by Mingyu smacking his arm. 

For once, he’s grateful for the assistant coach’s intrusion, because he turns around to find you jogging up to him. Weird, he thought to himself, since you and the girls have a game today. You skid to a stop next to the two, and make eye contact with him. “You don’t happen to have an extra SVHS shirt do you? I think I forgot my coaching shirt at home today and I really don’t want Seungcheol getting on my ass for it.” 

Vernon’s world comes crashing down at that moment. Maybe he does have a teensy little crush on you. Because the thought of you wearing his clothes has him swooning. Mingyu, ever so helpful, snaps him out of the moment by clearing his throat to yell at the boys for messing around. Vernon blinks at you for a second before stammering out, “uh yeah I think so,” and reaching into his bag. He pulls out a gray quarter zip with the words “SVHS” and “Coach Chwe” embroidered on the chest. He debates hiding it from your sight and shoving it back in his bag to save you both the embarrassment, but he knows how strict Seungcheol is as an athletic director. 

He eventually tosses it to you, stuttering out something about good luck while watching you throw it over your head. Once it’s on you say, “I have the same one, so hopefully no one sees the difference. Thanks Chwe.” He can’t even process your words because his brain is simply malfunctioning seeing you in his clothes, especially ones that say his name. He’s no better than his high schoolers. Before he knows it, you’re turning on your heel and jogging back to the main field. 

Someone comes up behind him, filling Mingyu’s absence, since the assistant coach ran off to lead practice drills in the middle of Vernon’s little crisis. He hears the lacrosse captain snickering and then telling him, “damn Coach, you’ve got it bad. You’re redder than a tomato.”

Vernon simply cannot handle it any further. “Oscar, for heaven’s sake, please shut your mouth and go back to practice.” Oscar throws his hands up in mock defense, before grabbing the ball that rolled over to Vernon’s feet and running back onto the field.

You really need to give Vernon his coach’s jacket back. It didn’t help that you weren’t a morning person, and seemed to accidentally leave it at home whenever you left for work each day. It also maybe didn’t help that it smelled just like the boy’s lacrosse coach, who, admittedly, smelled pretty damn good. But, you couldn’t hoard Vernon’s things forever. You were lucky enough that you had gone a week without him mentioning the jacket at all, which you chalked up to him knowing you were busy.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow you would take the jacket back to school and give it to him. You even laid it out with your own jacket, which you were going to wear the next since you had a game anyways. That, however, was a mistake. Because in the morning, groggy from lack of sleep, you accidentally threw on Vernon’s jacket and shoved your own into your work bag. 

How no one told you until 3rd period, you’re not quite sure. Mainly because Seokmin had specifically complimented your outfit when you visited him before your first class. You thought maybe it was because you were wearing a new pair of pants. Clearly it was not and the physics teacher was using it as a means to tease you (and Vernon by proxy). If only you had known.

Maya stepped into your classroom extra peppy that day, which was already a recipe for disaster. The fact that she was the one to catch that you were wearing Mr. Chwe’s zip-up certainly did not help. A gasped “oh my god” stopped you in the middle of your lecture. You pointedly looked at the girl before asking, “Maya, is everything alright?”

The poor girl could barely contain her excitement, practically shaking in her seat. “You’re dating Mr. Chwe! I knew it!”

You were caught so off-guard that it took you a while to respond. “Maya, where did you even get that idea from? And you’re being disruptive, I’m trying to teach about equilibrium.” 

She stood from her seat and pointed at you, before excitedly exclaiming, “your jacket. You’re wearing Mr. Chwe’s jacket!” You looked down and, sure enough, Vernon’s name was plastered across the chest. To put it plainly, you were mortified. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’ve embarrassed yourself even more when you don’t respond for a solid minute. 

Finally, when you’re done wallowing in pity in front of a bunch of 16 year olds, you make your way to your desk and pull out a hall pass. You hand it to Maya swiftly before telling her, “if you’re too invested in this to learn chemistry, go bother Mr. Chwe about it. It’s his planning period.” She gapes up at you before scrambling out of the room.

You turn back to the rest of the class, making sure to pointedly look at Henry. “No other questions about my love life?”

A deadly silence spreads across the room. Henry sinks back in his chair but you watch a hand creep up from the back of the classroom. You sigh and call on the girl. She’s clearly surprised you even allowed her to speak, because the question is whispered to the point you can barely hear it. “Why do you have Mr. Chwe’s jacket?”

The inquiry is enough to throw you off the deep end. “Ok, I’m not teaching the rest of class. I don’t care what you guys do as it’s either A) not disruptive or B) asking me about my personal life.” 

Seungcheol is surprised when there is a knock on the athletic office door in the middle of 3rd period. Students should be in class and if it were a staff member, they would have just let themselves in. He tells whoever it is to come in and is slightly less surprised to see Maya standing in front of him. She doesn’t let him speak first, quickly letting out, “do you know where Mr. Chwe is?”

He raises an eyebrow at the girl. “You got a hall pass kid?” he fires back. Maya waves the piece of paper around in his face. He rolls his eyes. 

She puts her hands on her hips and looks pointedly at him. “Seriously though. Do you know where Mr. Chwe is? It’s supposed to be his planning period or something.”

Seungcheol is still confused why she needs to see Vernon in the middle of 3rd hour and how she managed a hall pass for it. “Why?”

Maya plops down on the chair in front of his desk with a sigh, clearly this conversation was not happening without a little bit of a fight. “Ms. y/n sent me to ask him a question.”

The athletic director can’t help but let out a snort at the girl’s comment. Maya is suddenly interested in his reaction. “Why is that so funny? Do you think they’re dating too?”

Seungcheol is surprised yet again. “Do you think they’re dating?”

Now Maya snorts. “Obviously. Ms. y/n is wearing his lacrosse jacket today.” She laughs when the man’s eyes practically bulge out of his skull. He rustles around his desk, grabbing a notepad and writing another hall pass for the girl.

After scribbling for a second, he passes the note to the girl and tells her, “Mr. Chwe is in his office, room 218.”

The girl grabs the note from his hands and gleefully gets up to skip out the door. She stops midway through and calls out over her shoulder, “thanks Dad!”

“I’m not dating Ms. y/n, Maya. You know that.” Vernon sighs exasperatedly. “Why are you even asking me this?”

He knows he’s in for trouble when she smirks. “She’s wearing your coaching jacket today. Care to explain that?”

Vernon knows he should’ve asked for it back sooner rather than later. But he was secretly hoping that he would be able to see it on you one more time. And the longer you have it, the more likely it’s going to come back smelling like you (not that Vernon cares anyways right?). He doesn’t miss a beat though, explaining to Maya that he lent you his jacket for a game and that you probably mixed it up with your own. She’s not impressed, but she knows it’s an explanation that’s most likely true. This doesn’t stop her from interrogating Vernon further. “Do you want to date Ms. y/n?”

His silence is incriminating. He can tell by Maya’s mile wide grin. Trying to put an end to it, the lacrosse coach stands up from his desk, telling her that he’ll walk her back to whatever class she left from.

One tiny important detail he forgot is that you teach 3rd hour honors chemistry. A class that one of his players, Henry, shares with Maya. And he’s currently standing outside your door, watching as you type away on your computer. Sure enough, “Mr. Chwe” is embroidered across the chest. Vernon thinks he might combust on the spot. His student clearly picks up on this, muttering something about how she’s “seen middle schoolers with more balls.” 

He waits outside your door as Maya enters the room. There’s only a few minutes left of the period, so he figured it would be better for both of you to talk away from prying eyes. As the bell rings, he patiently watches the students trickle out your door. When he’s sure that everyone is gone, he steps into the doorway. What he does not expect is for you to walk straight into his chest, stumbling back with the cutest “oomph” he’s ever heard. 

Vernon is stunned but you look completely mortified. Probably because you just ran into the man whose jacket you’re wearing basically without his consent. His assumption is correct because you start mumbling out apologies. “I’m so sorry I thought this was my jacket when I grabbed it this morning. I didn’t mean to wear it today, I made such a mess of this. I shouldn’t have even asked for it in the first place. I was just about to change, give me a second I…”

The lacrosse coach cuts you off in the middle of your little rant. “Do you want to go out with me after your game on Friday?” 

You blink at him, not even processing the words he just said. When you finally do, your cheeks flush and you glance down at your watch. “Do you think you can ask me that in like 4 hours, Chwe?”

Vernon has no idea what you mean by that. He gawks a little bit. Do you need time to think about it? Are you not interested? Do you already have a boyfriend? Shit, he should’ve thought this through.

You break him out of his little trance with a small chuckle. “We’re on the clock Vernon. And you have a class in three minutes.” 

He glances at his watch. His freshman PE class is probably waiting for him. He mumbles something about meeting him on the main field before practice. Then he’s out the door. You’re left there, stunned, still in his jacket. You don’t bother to take it off the rest of the day.

A few hours later, Mingyu and Seokmin are watching you both converse from afar. Vernon’s cheeks are the reddest they’ve ever been. You’re fidgeting nervously but also smiling. It seems to be going well. Seokmin turns to the assistant coach before saying, “took them long enough.”

They hear someone approaching and turn to see Seungcheol. “You both owe me $20.” 

Both the teachers roll their eyes at him but reach for their wallets. Maya pops up from their other side, walking up to her father. “I should be getting at least half of that. I did all the work.” 

Seungcheol grunts, pondering her proposition. He turns to her. “What about this? You can either get $20 now or $200 if y/n is Mrs. Chwe before you graduate college?”

Maya’s eyes brighten and that sinister smile spreads across her cheeks once again. “Deal.” (She’s $200 richer at her college graduation).

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (3) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

//

it’s been almost three weeks since you last saw him. 

so, when you walk into the clinic, flushed cheeks and tucked-in hair and all—yoongi’s first thought catches him off guard. 

oh, i missed you. 

your absence crept into him slowly over the past few weeks. it filled in all the small gaps of his days with a quiet ache he had never noticed until now. it’s weird to say the least. 

when you spot him, a small and hesitant smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. yoongi smiles back, fuller than you expected. it’s still a casual smile but his eyes tell all. 

"hey," you say, voice soft as you approach him.

your fingers nervously fidgeting with the strap of your bag. he notices and reaches over to take your bag. 

you let him. 

"hey."

he tries to sound professional, though he knows he’s already failing. his voice is laced with excitement and nervousness. "let’s head to an exam room, yeah?"

then, he gestures down the hallway, and you follow.

as you two walk, you clear your throat. 

“where is everyone?”

“nam joon and jin have an online doctor's conference so they’re in jin’s office. hobi has a patient, jimin’s his nurse, and taehyung’s on his lunch break.” yoongi answers you like he reviewed for this. 

“and jungkook?”

yoongi blinks at you before placing his hand on your lower back and guiding you through the 3rd door to the left. 

is it bad he wants to be dismissive? is it bad that he’s a little annoyed you’re asking about jungkook while literally in the midst of finding out if you’re pregnant with his child?

doesn’t matter.

yoongi is mature. he answers you patiently—only really annoying himself.

“he’s my rn. told him my patient requested a private exam so he’s on a break too.” 

the room’s quiet when you two step inside. just the soft hum of the vent and the door shutting fills the silence. yoongi helps you sit on the exam bed. you don’t say anything, letting the crinkling paper under you shift as you settle in. yoongi gathers his supplies, his eyes darting toward you between movements.

“so... how’ve you been?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves. 

it feels like such a weak question. like it’s too small for all the things yoongi actually wants to say (because it is).

“fine. a little... tired, i guess?” you forces a tiny laugh. “and you? how’s work been? the space is really well done. i think the last time i saw it was during the final renovation process.”

“it’s nice, isn’t it?” yoongi states pridefully. 

“aren’t you into interior design? i’m gonna guess you controlled the overall aesthetic.” 

yoongi chuckles at you lightly. “we decorated a gingerbread house together once 2 years ago and you can never let that little discovery go, huh?” 

you stick your tongue out at him and swing your feet. “you’re pretty obvious with things you like.”

yoongi stares at you, eyebrows lifting in quiet surprise. 

you’re pretty obvious with things you like. 

your words hang in the air, sinking into him with a weight he hadn’t expected—he hadn’t prepared for.  he tries to play it off, mouth twitching into a half-smile, but he can feel his face warming.

there’s a small silence, and he can feel his heart picking up speed. his brain racing through all the ways he’s been maybe—not-so-subtle.

the way he leans a little closer when you talk.

how he remembers every little thing you mention— stupid things like how you prefer your coffee bitter. 

it hits him all at once.

he’s not fooling anyone. 

but for some reason; he hopes to fool you. even if it’s just a little while longer. as complicated as it sounds, he isn’t sure how much more risk he can put your friendship at. 

his throat tightens, and he clears it.

“...guess i am,” he murmurs, unable to hide the quiet honesty in his voice.

you stay quiet.

a little unsure if your friendship always had these silent gaps in between or if it’s because of the tension between you two right now. you attempt once more. 

“so… work?”

“work? oh… it’s the same, mostly.” he shrugs, tying a tourniquet around your arm. his fingers brush your skin for just a second longer than necessary. “though it’s nice to have an interesting case now and then,” he teases, his lips quirking up just slightly. 

“oh, so i’m interesting now?” you tease, trying for lightness. although, your voice shakes a little.

you hope he doesn’t notice. 

he does. 

“well... always have been, if i’m honest,” yoongi snickers. “blood test first and then we’ll do a urine sample. i can have the blood test result by tomorrow.”

“okay,” you say as you shut your eyes.

yoongi then slips a needle into your vein with practiced ease. once you feel the pinch, you flutter your eyes open. 

they meet yoongi’s and for a fleeting moment—he feels his chest tighten. 

as the vial fills with blood, yoongi realizes this is the closest you two have been in weeks. 

there’s something unspoken about it but very understood when he reaches for your free hand and squeezes it. you gulp and offer him a small smile. 

when it’s over, yoongi gently places a bandage on your arm. his fingers brush your skin again, lingering just a (another) second too long before he steps back.

"all done," he says softly, but he knows they’re only just beginning. “ready to pee in a cup?”

“more than ever.” 

with that, he laughs and takes your hand. yoongi helps you down and reaches for the sample cup. his arms wrap around your waist ever so gently as he guides you out of the exam room and into the washroom. 

yoongi waits for you outside the washroom door.

yoongi watches you pace, the linoleum tiles squeaking under your sneakers. 

"it only takes a few minutes," he says, tapping the test strip on the countertop, trying to sound as calm as he can. you’re nodding, but your hands are twisting the hem of your shirt. 

the clock ticks away the longest three minutes of your lives.

yoongi's eyes dart between the test and the silent tension builds up between you and him. when he glances at you, you’re staring at the counter. 

like you’re bracing yourself. 

like you already know. 

then, the lines appear. 

yoongi’s throat tightens, fingers hovering over the little strip with too much gravity for its size. his throat feels dry and suddenly he’s all out of words. he’s speechless as the results speak for themselves. 

but then, he can feel your eyes on him—waiting, hopeful, and terrified all at once.

“___,” yoongi breathes. “it’s positive.”

a moment passes.

"oh my god,” you choke. “hyemi is gonna lose her shit."

yoongi drives you home. 

he takes the rest of the day off actually. he excuses himself and lets jungkook know something came up. no one catches you two leaving the clinic together. 

now, here you two are. 

sitting in his car, parked outside your family home. the weight of the news hangs in the air. it’s not heavy—but it’s not exactly light. it’s… different. it’s more good than bad—actually, it’s not bad at all.

both of you sit there, still processing the reality of it all. 

“i want whatever you want,” yoongi finally says, breaking the stillness. his gaze is focused on you, sincere and adoring. 

you nod, accepting his words. 

“this is what i want,” you say simply. though your voice trembles with a mix of excitement and disbelief—you mean it. “look, i know my baby fever is batshit crazy and the whole time we fucked i was literally such a freak, but this—this is so precious, you know? new life. are you fucking—oops, sorry baby—” you pat your stomach.

“yoongi, this is ours.”

you shift something in yoongi. 

his heart flutters at the word. 

ours. 

it plunges his heart and engraves itself; ours. 

there is no other way to act or feel. 

the thought of being a dad feels surreal. it’s like something out of a dream. he’s always wanted to have a family.

okay, fine.

is the status of their relationship ideal? no. but the reality of a baby, their baby, makes his heart race.

and so what if he isn’t prepared? so what if this wasn’t what he expected? so what if a first date would’ve been a better idea? the questions flood his mind, but they quickly fade as he looks at the way you look at him. 

hopeful. 

excited. 

scared shitless. 

joyous. 

the joy on your face igniting something deep within him. 

he wants this too. 

even if it feels overwhelming. even if it isn’t ideal. even if it means navigating through a literal lifetime with you from here on out.

yoongi’s gaze softens.

“we’re doing this... together. this is ours.”

“together,” you echo, a wide grin spreading across your face. your eyes tear up from all the emotions and the rushing feeling of relief. with soft tone, you murmur; “ours.”

you two look at each other, unable to read one another. all you know is that this isn’t as scary as you thought it’d be. yoongi’s eyes are kind and the way he reaches to squeeze your upper thigh makes you feel safe.

“you know what? i’ll be the first to say it,” yoongi laughs. “congratulations, mama.” 

your eyes widen and you burst into laughter. 

your laugh fills his car, bright and full of life. you can’t help but to lean in and wrap your arms around him. you hold him tight. he holds you tighter. 

when you pull away, you two lock eyes. 

the air feels thick with anticipation. yoongi’s heart races as his eyes shift from yours to your lips then back to you. you’re looking at him with an expression mixed of excitement and vulnerability. he can’t help but admire the way the light catches in your gaze.

time seems to slow as you two hold each other’s stare. both of you are caught in the moment.

for a heartbeat, it’s just you and yoongi.

two people on the brink of something new and beautiful. yoongi leans in a fraction, drawn by an invisible thread, while you tilts your head slightly. your lips part and the urge to close the distance grows stronger. 

but you blink. 

and yoongi hesitates. 

the tension cuts. 

you pull away first and sit back. yoongi clears his throat and does a double take. then, he thinks; fuck it. 

he leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt. 

“should i walk you to your door—”

“no, no,” you insist. “yes, i’m pregnant with your child… but we don’t have to act like—”

“act like what?” yoongi huffs. “am i not allowed to care for you?”

you shrug. 

"___, you're literally carrying my child—"

“you know what? i’ll be in touch regarding child support,” you tease, a mischievous glint in her eyes. with that, you open the car door and step out. 

yoongi rolls his eyes. 

“you’re ridiculous,” he replies, shaking his head but unable to suppress the smile spreading across his face. then, he unbuckles his seatbelt and jogs around the car. he shuts the car door for you. 

you give him a look. 

he mimics it. 

then, you scrunch your nose and accept what’s happening.

yoongi walks beside you, fingertips lingering and all. he tells you that he’ll let you know what the blood work says tomorrow. he tells you to let him know if you need anything and not to worry about anything health related as, in his words; “no discussion needed. i got it.”

all you do is nod and try your best to stop your heart from fluttering so much.

[dark-moonlust]

Getting Pounded by Nagas PART 5: Βabies

Pairing: Two nagas x f!human reader

Summary: it has been two months since your precious eggs hatched. You have a blissful life with your mates and babies. Your nagas are the best daddies in every way. 😉

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, starts cute but then there is smut, lactating and feeding babies, double 🍆🍆, fingering, p in v, οral (male), anal, dοuble penetr. Don’t like, don’t read please.

This is part of a series. Find all the parts here.

Soft afternoon light filtered through the colorful curtains. The nursery was filled with the adorable cooing of your baby naga boys. You sat at the comfortable armchair, your naga hybrids in the cradle of your arms. It had been almost two months since your precious eggs had hatched, stealing your heart forever. They were a mix of human and serpentine body, just like their daddies.

You marveled at their tiny, adorable forms which fit just perfectly in your arms. Little Rowan looked after his daddy, Thorne. He had a cute, chubby face with big eyes the same color as yours, and a tiny green-scaled tail. Little Bjorn, however had inherited your human nose and lips, and Ragnor’s eyes and red-scaled tail.

You were so proud that your DNA had been accepted by the eggs and they now looked after you as well.

You kissed each of their chubby cheeks and blew raspberries on their round bellies. The little ones giggled and looked at you with tenderness and love. Ahh, your heart felt so full!

Sitting back comfortably, you lowered the neckline of your dress and offered your breasts to your hungry little naga hybrids. They eagerly latched on your nipples, tiny hands nuzzling your breasts as they began to nurse, their tails cradling your arms waist. It was a calming and incredibly beautiful sight, watching them feed and grow stronger with each passing day. And dear Gods, they did eat a lot. Which was good because you had so much milk that sometimes it made you uncomfortable.

Gentle cooing sounds echoed in the quiet room as the babies fed, their tails curled lovingly around you. They suckled greedily, their attention fully devoted to your breasts. A soft slithering sound caught your attention; your mates. With a smile, you turned to see Thorne and Ragnor entering the room. Your naga mates were tall and handsome with strong shoulders and chiseled muscles. Their lower torsos extended into supremely long and powerful tails that moved gracefully across the floor.

They had just come back from work. Thorne and Ragnor were rangers, they protected the frontiers of the rainforest. Your mates looked incredibly smug to have returned just in time for the feeding of the little nagas. They surrounded you from both sides, their scaled tails coiling around your seat. No matter how many times you fed the babies, they loved the sight of you and they also got highly aroused by it.

“Hey, there pretty mama,” Thorne said, bending down to kiss you deeply, tongue slipping in your mouth.

When Thorne pulled back from your mouth, Ragnor was claiming your lips, his long tongue brushing against your smaller one.

“Our beautiful mate,” Ragnor murmured proudly. “Feeding our babies. Looking so beautiful and…” he whispered in your ear, “sexy.”

“I breastfeed at least twenty times a day, aren’t you bored watching me yet?” you teased them, a bright smile on your face.

“Never,” Thorne said huskily, eyes on the babies suckling your nipples. “We can never have enough.”

“Look at our precious little ones,” Ragnor said, caressing each cheek of the babies as they fed from your breasts. They moaned softly at their daddies but kept feeding, too hungry for milk to care.

“Hungry little monsters,” Thorne chuckled. “They are enjoying it so much.”

“They take after their daddies,” Ragnor said, leaning in to kiss the mound of your left breast. His lips were warm and soft against your skin, but the baby didn’t like the disturbance and groaned softly.

“Easy there, little guy. I’m not going to steal your mama,” Ragnor said then winked up at you, “yet.”

Thorne followed, kissing the mound of your right breast. The other naga baby ignored him and latched your nipple harder as if to keep it for himself.

You winced a little at the tug, your cheeks blushing. “You two are incorrigible. Worse than babies.

Ragnor gently stroked your neck. “We can’t help it. It’s hard not to get a little jealous of our babies,” he grinned. “They get the best parts of you.”

You laughed, the sound blending with the hungry coos of the babies. “Well, our babies have their needs,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with love. “They need to be fed constantly.”

“And so do we,” Thorne whispered, kissing you lightly. “But we can wait.”

Once the babies finished their meal, they released your nipples with soft wet plops and squealed up at their daddies. Ragnor and Thorne held them in their arms, kissed and fondled their little tails. Watching your mates with the babies made you so emotional and at the same time, so happy that you’d carried their eggs and went through all the intense naga birth procedures.

Your baby hybrids were worth all of this and so much more.

An hour later, your babies were freshly clean and tucked in their cots, sleeping with their tails coiled over one another and their cute little mouths forming precious smiles. You and your mates kissed them one last time on their foreheads and quietly left the nursery.

“I believe it’s now time for you to take care of the daddies,” Ragnor told you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You giggled as they led the way to your bedroom, Ragnor’s strong arms pulling you down onto the mattress, his long tail wrapping around the bed. He kissed you, his mouth possessing yours, tongue licking inside your mouth. Thorne joined in your side, kissing the crook of your neck, tasting and teasing, making you moan with need.

A few expert tugs and wiggles and they had you naked beneath them, their hungry gazes roaming your body. After the birth, your breasts were full and round, your nipples incredibly sensitive and leaking milk. Your belly was also softer and curvier as were your thighs. Your mates were in love with your body and since you were a little shy about these changes, they took every chance to remind you just how perfect and sexy you were.

Ragnor slipped between your legs, arms holding under your knees and spreading them wide apart. Your pussy clenched with anticipation, leaking with arousal and with your mates’ seed from when they’d fucked you earlier this morning.

Thorne’s lips trailed a path down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. Ragnor took one swollen tit in his hand, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipple. Thorne cupped the other, molding it to his large palm while his thumb toyed with your leaky nipple. You squealed as they took turns worshipping your tender buds, hungry lips and tongues bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

“Such stunning tits,” Thorne murmured, his breath hot against one nipple. “Full and ripe.”

Ragnor’s tongue nursed from the other bud, lapping up the leaking milk. “I could spend an eternity worshiping our mate,” he rasped. “Feasting on her leaking nipples, pulling, tugging, suckling.”

“Also fucking her pretty pussy and tight ass,” Thorne added cheekily, suckling your nipple into his mouth, tongue whisking the leaking tip.

“Oh, yes, that, too,” Ragnor said with a husky drawl. “Pounding her so deep that she can’t speak. Filling her up with our cum.”

“S—Stop teasing,” you said, clutching both their shoulders, your body shaking from overstimulation.

Unbothered, your mates resumed devouring your tits, massaging the tender mounds and doing all sorts of shameless things to your buds with their tongues. Your poor nipples, so sensitive and aching, responded eagerly to your mates’ touches. You stayed there and moaned lewdly as they had their way with you, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

Soon, their hands joined in the sensual game.

Thorne’s fingers reached between your legs and he began to rub your clit in slow circles. Instinctively you arched your body, bucking your hips to gain more friction. At the same time, Ragnor’s hand slid over your inner thighs before stopping to tease the rosebud of your ass. He probed gently at first, his fingers lubricated with your juices, tracing the rosebud before thrusting two thick fingers inside.

Drawn-out moans left you as you thrashed and wiggled while they devoured your nipples and teased your pussy and ass. Their tails came to clutch around your thighs, holding you brazenly open for their ministrations which heightened your arousal and finally pushed you over the edge.

With a cry, you came undone, your body convulsing, your mind blanking out for a few moments. Ragnor and Thorne continued to tease your body, no less intensely. They suckled your tits loudly, slurped at your milk and let out animalistic growls. Thorne’s fingers were languid over your pussy while Ragnor’s stayed buried inside your ass.

“Fuuuuck, you’re exquisite, mate,” Thorne murmured, his lips claiming yours.

Ragnor watched as you were kissed, pulled out his fingers and leaned to kiss your neck.

Both nagas let out low vibrating purrs that that sent shivers down your spine.

When you finally came down from your high, you kneeled between them and started stroking their bodies, taking turns kissing each of them while tracing their bulging muscles and then down their cockslits. Their double cocks were already aroused and had emerged from their slits, jutting angrily toward their stomachs.

Your hands found Thorne’s shafts and your fingers wrapped around both of them, his cocks obscenely big in your small palms. Meanwhile you worked your tongue around each of Ragnor’s dicks, tracing the bulging veins and licking the beads of pre-cum on the heads. Ragnor jerked his hips with an audible moan, thrusting one dick into your mouth, your lips stretching, throat tensing.

Their tails joined in the game, coiling around your breasts while the tips slithered down your legs, opening your asscheeks. Ragnor’s tail filled your pussy while Thorne’s slid past the tight bud of your ass and up your guts. Muffled moans escaped you at the dual penetration.

“Mphhh…” you breathed when Ragnor drew back his cock which was glistening in your saliva. You immediately sucked his other cock while pumping Thorne’s with your other hand, both their tails fucking you with primal ferocity, causing your tits to bounce.

You alternated between your mates, pumping them with your hands and taking them in your mouth. Their cocks were hard and thick, the long girths kissing the back of your throat. You choked only a little and took them like a champ, slick sucking sounds and primal groans resounding across the room.

“Yes, mate —fuckkk, feels so fucking good.”

Ragnor slammed his cock down your throat, chasing his release.

“Ghrr….! Hmnn!” You gagged when the rip of his cock kissed the back of your neck, his hot release spurting down your mouth. You took both cockheads into your mouth and shallowed every drop. Ragnor roared, his hips undulating violently as he came down your throat.

Thorne came next and you instantly put his shafts in your mouth. Your mouth filled with the cockheads while your hands wrapped around the lengths that didn’t fit. In seconds, you were swallowing load after load of his cum. His jizz was too much, it dribbled down your lips but Thorne gently pulled it back into your mouth with his thumbs. You swallowed everything obediently.

“Such a good girl,” Thorne growled as you nursed his cocks, licking a long slow stripe up the underside of the shafts. “Taking every drop of our cum.”

“And letting our tails fuck her tight little holes,” Ragnor drawled, his fingers tracing where you were filled to the hilt with their tails. “Want our tails to keep fucking you, love? Or do you want our cocks?”

“Hmphhh…” you tried to talk but your mouth was filled with Thorne’s cockheads.

“There you go,” Thorne slowly pulled back, slipping from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting his shafts to your mouth.

“Co-cocks… want to be full,” you muttered, a hazy smile playing on your lips. “Cocks, pl-please.”

“Whatever our mate wants, our mate gets,” Thorne kissed you wetly. “We’ll give you our cocks and our love.”

“And lots, lots of orgasms,” Ragnor added, claiming your lips, too.

Thorne laid down on the mattress and gently rearranged your body, pulling you to lay with your back on his chest, your legs splayed wide. Ragnor came to rest between them, watching at where their tails were still fucking you slowly. The nagas retracted their appendages and instantly wrapped around your legs, keeping them obscenely open.

Ragnor hovered above you, rubbed your clit then used his thumbs to pull your outer lips apart and expose the glistening entrance of your pussy. You were drenched, your folds pink and puffy. The bud of your ass was also swollen and the sight of your eager holes made them feral.

“How about I fuck your lovely pussy, love?” Ragnor rumbled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Thorne can take your tight little ass.”

“Hmm… yes please…” you clutched him desperately. “Want you both.”

“Sharing is caring,” Thorne muttered cheekily as he lifted you by the globes of your ass and positioned you over his twin cocks. He cupped both shafts and prodded your tight asshole with the heads. You whimpered, your tight hole stretching to accommodate his massive cocks. Inch by inch he lowered you down until he was deep up your ass.

It was then when Ragnor pushed forward, clutching his shafts in his palms and driving them inside your pussy. You accepted them, inch by delicious inch, filled to the limit, your belly swelling with their girths inside you.

“Tight. So wet and tight.” Ragnor’s gaze smoldered with need. “Taking us so good. Our good little mate. The mother of our offspring. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, love.“

They started to grind inside you, their hips pumping steadily. They stretched and filled your holes again and again. You sobbed and clung to Ragnor for dear life, while Thorne toyed with your nipples and flicked your clit in time with his thrusts. You came in no time, pussy and ass clenching around their cocks, body arching wildly. Their tails gripped your hips so you wouldn’t shift away from their pounding.

They didn’t stop.

They kept fucking you through your orgasm, Ragnor’s grip tightening as he pulled you to ride him. Your legs wrapped around his torso and he lowered you onto his thick, waiting cocks. The stretch was intense, his girths stretching you to the brim. Thorne sat up behind you, his chest against your back as he adjusted the angle and thrust his cocks up your ass.

The new position was overwhelming, you were so completely filled, consumed by the sheer intensity of their shafts rubbing inside you.

They settled into a maddening rhythm, pounding your holes at the same time, never leaving you empty. Your arms clutched them while your small body, trapped between them jerked in time with their powerful thrusts. The sensations were maddening, leaving you gasping and begging for release.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Thorne breathed against your ear, hands tweaking your nipples. “I can feel your ass clenching around me.”

Ragnor hummed. “Can’t last much longer,” he said, his voice rough.

“Hmmm… m’ too, want to come— ahnn… close so close,” you whimpered as they pounded into you, changing nothing in their tactics.

“Let it go, little mate,” Ragnor drawled. “Let it go and take our cum, hm?”

You nodded fervently, clutching them while bouncing on them and chasing your peak.

Thorne’s cocks drove deep into your ass, and Ragnor’s cocks filled your pussy utterly, their relentless pace shattering you. You came with a cry, every nerve ending on fire.

They followed right after, their cocks pulsing and filling you with loads and loads of their seed. It was so much it overflowed and tricked down your thighs.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, they gently rolled you sideways, their cocks still hard inside you. They kissed you, Thorne against your back, his hands caressing your face. Ragnor lay in front of you, whispering soothing words as he nibbled at your neck. You fell asleep nestled within them, satisfied and full of love.

Your mates. The loves of your life. The fathers of your children. Your everything.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! Also, what do you want to happen next? What do you want to see? More smutty stuff on Patreon, too. 😊🖤

[chosok-amo]

Hi hi! I love your satosugu x reader fics so much that I love to read-read a lot of them! So i saw ur requests are open and I was wondering if I could request a satosugu x reader where reader got food poisoning and her boyfriends are just taking care of her and nursing back to health? Thank you!🫶

FOOD POISON : UNITY OF HELL : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

day off, clothes off, sleep until noon, take-out and relaxing day: that’s the original plan, but they didn’t notice among the food they’ve ordered, there is one food that would make you go through hell.

warning. established relationship! satosugu, fluff, crack, GAY SATOSUGUUUUUU, you screaming at them for asking stupid questions while you are in pain lol.

i’ve never had food poisoning before, no one is closer to me ever had one, so i don’t really know how it works and how the reaction is supposed to be, but i’m trying my best with some research and i hope i’m doing your request a justice. (and reader have to be dramatic, as always)

it was a lazy sunday noon, and you, along with your two boyfriends, were just waking up from an unusually long sleep. the sun was peeking through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room, but none of you had any intention of getting up right away. the week had been exhausting, filled with missions, work, and meetings, but today, there was nothing—no obligations, no expectations, just the three of you together in the comfort of your shared home.

none of you had bothered with clothes either; it was one of those days where the world outside didn’t exist. you were in your underwear while your boyfriends in their black boxer, hugging there body perfectly, sprawled lazily on the couch in the living room, just enjoying each other’s company. the decision to cook was quickly dismissed as too much effort, especially since the three of you had been sleeping for what felt like forever. instead, you decided to order food, something simple and satisfying, and now you were all gathered around the coffee table, your meals spread out in front of you.

you sat in between geto and gojo, your legs comfortably stretched out across their laps. the atmosphere was serene, peaceful, the only sounds being the occasional clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of conversation as you talked about nothing in particular. gojo was leaning back against the cushions, his arm resting lazily over your shoulders while he occasionally brought a bite of food to his mouth. geto was on your other side, much more focused on the food, though he’d glance over at you every now and then, offering a small smile or a teasing comment.

“i could get used to this,” you sighed contentedly, taking a sip of your drink before reaching for another bite of your meal. “no work, no missions… just the three of us doing absolutely nothing.”

geto laughed. “and waking up at noon,” he pointed out, glancing at his phone’s clock and taking another bite of his rice. gojo groaned. “hey, it’s already been so long since we were able to stay in bed this late. don’t judge.” he pinched your thigh and nuzzled his nose in your hair, taking a deep breath.

“we’re so gonna regret this on monday, though.“ you could feel his warm breath on your neck as he spoke. geto leaned forward to grab his drink, and gojo took the opportunity to slide his hands over your body, shamelessly tracing the curves of your figure.

“god, you look so delicious, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, and you could feel your skin prickling under his touch. geto shifted a little, leaning back against the couch pillows.

“you’re not gonna leave anything for me?” he smirked, his gaze fixed on your bare legs in his lap.

you were just about to respond, maybe throw a witty remark at them, but before you could, geto spoke again—this time with his mouth full of food. bits of rice slipped out of his mouth and landed right on your hand.

“ugh, suguru! disgusting!” you groaned, pulling your hand away from him as you stared at the food that had just fallen onto your skin. “don’t talk when your mouth’s full! gross!”

gojo chuckled at your reaction, his lips still lingering near your ear. “oh, come on, it's not that bad.” he teasingly tried to brush the food away, but only ended up smearing it across your skin.

“oh, is that what we’re grossed out by now?” gojo chuckled, watching with amusement as you tried to wipe the rice off. his hand continued its journey up your body, his fingers slipping under the elastic of your bra.

“I’ve done a lot grosser things to you before, love,” he continued with a wink, and geto snickered.

gojo glanced over at geto, and his signature smirk returned to his face. “y’know, it looks kind of tasty.” he casually brought your hand to his mouth, his tongue licking the food off your skin.

you groaned again, rolling your eyes as gojo smeared the food even more across your skin. “ugh, not in front of my food!” you protested, trying to wiggle away from his touch, but his grip was firm as his fingers teasingly slipped under the elastic of your bra.

gojo’s comment about doing “grosser things” made you shoot him a glare, though you couldn't stop the heat creeping up your neck. “you two are seriously disgusting,” you muttered, though your words lacked any real bite as geto snickered beside you, clearly enjoying your reaction.

before you could pull your hand away, gojo brought it to his mouth, his tongue lazily licking the food off your skin. “mmm, tastes good,” he winked, his lips brushing over your knuckles, the playful grin never leaving his face.

“gross!” you groaned, pulling your hand back quickly. “not while I’m eating!” you swatted at both of them, wrinkling your nose in mock disgust. “you two are nasty, seriously.”

they both laughed, clearly unfazed by your complaints, and you shook your head, unable to keep the small smile from tugging at your lips. as irritating as they could be, you loved how effortlessly playful things were between the three of you.

“aww, don’t play innocent.” gojo chuckled, his hand running up your side until he reached your chest. he gave your breast a firm squeeze through the thin layer of the bra. “you’re a pretty dirty girl yourself, y’know?” he teased. “remember what you did a few nights ago, baby?”

geto shifted a little in his seat, his eyes flicking between you two. “yeah, i remember that too,” he chimed in, a smirk on his face. “quite a messy night it was.”

you blushed at their words, feeling the heat creeping up your neck again. “ugh, you guys…” you tried to protest, but it was difficult to stay annoyed with their playful banter, especially with gojo’s hand still exploring your body.

“can’t i just eat my lunch without you two acting like a bitch in heat?” you huffed, trying to keep a straight face, which only made them let out another round of laughs.

“well, aren’t you getting all feisty now.” gojo’s hand continued to wander over your body, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “that’s a little different than the usual you crying out our names, ain’t it?”

geto chuckled, leaning a little closer. “c’mon, baby, we just want to play a little.” he slid his hand up your leg, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear. “you know we can’t resist you when you look so damn delicious.”

“especially when you’re wearing just your underwear like that,” gojo murmured, his hand sliding under your bra, his thumb running over your nipple. “mmm, you’re making it really hard for us to behave, you know.”

geto’s hand now grabbed your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. “yeah, it’s getting kind of difficult to hold back.” he leaned a little closer, his lips brushing your neck. “we can just leave these leftovers here for later.”

as gojo’s hand continued its mischievous journey over your body and geto’s fingers teasingly traced the edge of your underwear, you suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over you. your stomach twisted uncomfortably, the once-enjoyable meal now making you feel queasy. without warning, the teasing and playful atmosphere shifted as you quickly put your food down.

“wait, hold on...” you muttered, your hand instinctively moving to your stomach. “ugh, i feel like i’m gonna throw up.”

both gojo and geto immediately picked up on the change in your demeanor, their teasing grins transforming into expressions of concern.

“babe, what’s wrong?” gojo’s hand moved to your back, gently rubbing circles across your skin. “are you okay?”

geto’s hand squeezed your thigh, his gaze fixed on your face. “yeah, you look a little pale all of a sudden.” he reached out to press his hand against your forehead. “you feeling sick?”

you barely managed to get a word out before a sharp, intense pain shot through your stomach, making you groan and fall to your knees on the soft carpet, your arms instinctively wrapping around your stomach. the suddenness of the pain left you gasping for breath as you pressed your hands to your abdomen, hoping the pressure would help ease the discomfort.

“fuck…” you hissed through clenched teeth, your head dropping forward as another wave of pain hit. you looked up at gojo and geto, both of their faces now filled with alarm, hovering over you.

“what the fuck did we just eat?” you groaned, your voice strained as you tried to make sense of what was happening. “did one of you poison me or something?”

“hey, hey, easy!” gojo knelt down next to you, his hands supporting you. “are you in pain? where does it hurt?

geto was on your other side, his hand on your back, his eyes scanning your face. “yeah, try to stay calm,” he said, his voice tight with concern. “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

gojo glanced over at geto. “we all ate the same thing, there’s no way it’s poisoning.” he turned his attention back to you, his expression urgent. “just focus on breathing, babe.”

but their concern did nothing to ease the pain or your growing frustration. you managed to lift your head and glare at geto through the discomfort. “oh yeah? stay calm?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “how about you be in my shoes for a second, and we’ll see how calm the fuck down _you_ are, huh?”

the sharpness in your tone made geto blink, caught off guard by your sass even though he was so used to it. gojo stifled a chuckle despite the situation, clearly trying not to make things worse, but you could feel the tension rising.

“sorry, sorry,” geto muttered, his hand still on your back, though a sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “i just don’t want you to panic…”

you groaned again, doubling over slightly as the pain surged, but the sarcasm came through even stronger. “well, too late for that, genius.” you couldn’t help it. the pain made your patience nonexistent, and though you knew they were only trying to help, you couldn’t resist snapping at them. “oh, god, i feel like i'm going to throw up.”

both men exchanged glances as you continued to snap at them, and as much as they both disliked seeing you in pain and the situation at hand, they couldn’t help but silently find the way you were acting a little cute.

geto’s hand continued to rub your back, trying to soothe you. “calm down, sweetheart, everything is going to be alright,” he whispered. “deep breaths, okay?”

gojo still knelt in front of you, his eyes scanning your body for any signs of what could be causing this. “are you sure it’s your stomach?” you were curled over, the pain relentless as you tried to catch your breath. as gojo and geto exchanged glances, trying to comfort you, you could feel their silent amusement beneath their concern, which only made your irritation flare even more. geto’s hand on your back was supposed to be soothing, but the words “calm down” coming out of his mouth felt like nails on a chalkboard.

“calm down? calm down?” you muttered sarcastically under your breath, shooting another glare his way. “yeah, sure, let me just ‘calm down’ while my stomach feels like it’s being ripped apart. genius advice.”

gojo, still kneeling in front of you with that worried-but-trying-to-figure-this-out look on his face, glanced at your stomach and asked, “are you sure it’s your stomach?”

you shot him a look so sharp he actually blinked in surprise. “i don’t know, satoru, maybe ask me one more time and see if you can meet my hand when i slap the shit out of you,” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you groaned again, curling further until your forehead was practically pressed into the carpet.

both of them were quiet for a moment, taken aback by your sass, but you could feel their soft chuckles vibrating around you, despite the seriousness of the situation. for a brief moment, they were too stunned to say anything. they were used to your sarcasm and sass, but this was a bit more than usual, even for you. gojo was caught completely off guard by your sharp response, while geto tried to suppress a smile at your stubbornness.

despite the worrying situation, they found it amusing how even in pain and suffering, you were still as feisty as ever. they knew you were dealing with a lot, yet you couldn't just show vulnerability—you always had to put on a tough front.

gojo leaned in a little bit, his hand gently rubbing your leg. “babe, i understand you’re in pain right now, but don’t lash out on us.” his voice was gentle, yet stern. “we’re just trying to help.”

geto knelt beside you, his hand still on your back, but the smile was now gone from his lips. “he’s right,” he said, glancing over at gojo. “you need to calm down a little. we can’t figure out what’s wrong if you’re yelling at us.”

“sorry,” you muttered weakly through gritted teeth between groans, the pain nearly unbearable now. “i think i’m gonna throw up… again,” you managed to say, your voice shaky, but your usual attitude still slipped through. “just… get me to the bathroom, please..”

at your words, a wave of worry washed over both men’s faces. without wasting any time, gojo scooped you up effortlessly in his arms, while geto hurried ahead to the bathroom, clearing the way.

“don’t worry,” gojo muttered as he carried you to the bathroom. “we’re right here. you’re going to be okay, baby.”

geto waited by the toilet, his hands ready to hold your hair back. he exchanged a worried glance with gojo before turning back to you. as soon as gojo rushed you into the bathroom and lowered you near the toilet, you barely had time to brace yourself before everything came up. your hands gripped tightly around the edge of the toilet as your body convulsed, throwing up with such intensity it left you breathless. you slumped onto the floor, your body weak from the sudden surge.

both gojo and geto knelt either side of you, their expressions a mix of worry and helplessness as they watched you retching into the toilet. gojo's hand rubbed your back, trying to offer what little comfort he could, while geto held back your hair.

"it's gonna be alright, babe," gojo reassured you, his voice gentle as he tried to keep you calm. "take deep breaths. you're doing great."

geto handed you a glass of water, his gaze never leaving you. “here, rinse your mouth after. it should help.” as you leaned against the toilet, shaking and breathless, they both stayed by your side, their support unwavering. gojo's hand continued to rub your back slowly, while geto gently placed a damp washcloth on your forehead to wipe away the sweat.

“you think this is just food poisoning?” geto asked, his voice low, glancing over at gojo. “she hasn’t eaten anything we haven't, though, right?”

gojo shook his head, a deep frown on his face. “i don't know. it's not like her to get this sick.”

after what felt like an eternity of being slumped over the toilet, the nausea finally began to subside. you stayed still for a moment, taking shallow breaths to make sure the worst had passed. with a shaky hand, you reached for the flush button, your fingers fumbling as you pressed it, the sound of the toilet swirling away the evidence of your sickness.

you sighed heavily, resting your head and back against the cool porcelain for a moment, feeling utterly drained. “well, that was fun,” you muttered sarcastically, voice hoarse from the vomiting.

gojo’s hand was still gently rubbing your back, his touch grounding, and geto carefully wiped your face with the damp washcloth, the coolness of it offering a little relief.

“you think you’re done?” gojo asked softly, his voice calm but still tinged with concern as he looked down at you.

“yeah, i think so,” you sighed, finally managing to sit up a little straighter, though your body still felt weak. “whatever that was, it seems to be over... for now.”

as you slowly sat up, both men let out a collective sigh. gojo's hand moved to your shoulder, supporting you as you tried to steady yourself.

“take a moment,” he said, his voice gentle. “don’t push yourself, babe.”

geto was still knelt next to you, his hand now resting on your thigh. he couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at your sarcasm, even in this situation.

“i think you’ve used up all your sarcasm for the day, sweetheart,” he teased, patting your leg. you chuckled softly at geto’s teasing, shaking your head as you leaned back against the cold bathroom wall, still feeling weak. “yeah, i think i’m tapped out for now,” you muttered with a tired grin, glancing between the two of them.

gojo, always quick to catch on to your needs, shifted closer so you could rest your head on his shoulder. “we can just stay here for a second, babe,” he whispered, his voice soothing as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you gently into him.

geto sat down on your other side, his back pressed against the cold tiles as well, the three of you now slumped on the bathroom floor. his hand remained on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. “we’ll rest as long as you need, no rush,” he said softly, though you could still catch a hint of his playful nature in his voice.

you closed your eyes for a moment, relishing the comfort of their presence. the cold tiles beneath you provided some relief from the lingering nausea, while the warmth of gojo's body against yours made you feel safe and loved.

as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

geto's touch on your thigh was equally comforting, his fingers gently kneading your skin. he was still silently amused by your outburst earlier, but his primary concern was your well-being. the bathroom was silent for a moment, save for the sound of your breathing and the soft hum of the overhead light. eventually, gojo spoke up, his voice low and soothing.

“do you think you could stand up, babe?” he asked gently, his hand rubbing your arm. “we should probably move you to the couch or something.”

geto nodded in agreement, his fingers still lightly tracing patterns on your thigh. “yeah, you can’t stay on the bathroom floor forever, sweetheart. that’s not very comfortable.” you shivered slightly, feeling the cold sweat clinging to your skin, your body still weak and shaky. you shook your head slowly, not even attempting to move. “i don’t feel like walking,” you muttered, your voice a little hoarse. “i just want to go to bed.”

gojo immediately tightened his arm around you, his concern deepening. “you’re feeling cold, aren’t you?” he said softly, his hand moving to rub your shoulder in an attempt to warm you up.

geto frowned, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, noticing the way your skin was clammy. “you’re covered in cold sweat, sweetheart,” he observed, his fingers gently wiping some of the moisture from your forehead. “you really shouldn’t stay like this.”

before you could even respond, gojo scooped you up effortlessly into his arms again, clearly having made up his mind. “bed it is,” he said firmly, but there was a softness in his voice. “we’ll get you warm and comfortable. no more bathroom floors today.”

as gojo carried you out of the bathroom and into the living room, geto followed closely behind, a stern expression still on his face.

“you can’t just lie down without drying yourself off first,” he scolded gently, his gaze fixed on your shivering form in gojo’s arms. “we don’t want you to catch a cold on top of everything else.”

he moved ahead of them and headed towards the bedroom, pulling back the covers and fluffing the pillows.

“we need to get her into some dry clothes too,” he muttered to himself. gojo carried you into the bedroom and carefully laid you down on the bed. the sheets were cool and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold bathroom floor.

he sat down beside you, his hand still rubbing your arm as geto rummaged through the dresser for some clean clothes.

“you’re shaking, babe,” gojo said, concern evident in his voice. “we’ll get you warm and comfy, just give us a minute, okay?”

geto came back with a soft t-shirt and some sweatpants, setting them down on the bed. gojo gently helped you sit up, his strong arms supporting you. they worked together, guiding your arms into the sleeves of the t-shirt. the soft fabric felt comforting against your skin, instantly making you feel more relaxed.

once you were dressed in the fresh clothes, gojo helped you lie back down on the bed. geto quickly pulled up the covers, tucking them snugly around you.

“there you go,” gojo said softly, his hand smoothing your hair back from your forehead. “better?” you shifted slightly on the bed, the cool sheets a brief relief, but the aches still lingered. leaning into gojo’s side, you murmured, “my head hurts… and my stomach… still hurts,” your voice soft and tired, the pain clear in every word.

both gojo and geto exchanged worried glances, their faces etched with concern. they knew this wasn’t just a simple case of food poisoning or an upset stomach. you were clearly in a lot of pain, and it was obvious something more serious was happening.

gojo's hand continued to stroke your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. “i know, babe. we’ll get you some ibuprofen for the headache,” he said, his voice low and soothing. geto sat down on the edge of the bed beside you, his hand reaching to touch your forehead as well. “do you think it’s food poisoning?” he asked gojo, his gaze on you.

gojo shook his head, a deep frown still etched on his face. “i don’t think so,” he replied, his eyes never leaving your face. “food poisoning doesn’t usually cause this much pain, and she hasn't eaten anything we haven’t.”

he looked over at geto, his expression tense. “we need to figure out what’s really going on. she’s clearly not feeling well, and we can’t just keep guessing.” geto’s brow furrowed in concern as he listened to gojo. he could see the worry etched on your face, and it made his heart ache. “you’re right,” he said, his voice steady but filled with urgency. “i’ll call shoko and see if she knows anything. maybe she can give us some advice or come check on her.”

he stood up, moving toward his phone with purpose. he quickly dialed shoko’s number, keeping his eyes on you, silently reassuring you with his gaze before he walked out of the room. as geto left the room, phone in hand, gojo continued to fuss over you, his fingers gently combing through your hair and his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“don’t worry,” he muttered softly, his voice a soothing whisper. “we’ll figure this out. shoko’ll be here soon, and she’ll know what to do.” you finally fell into a deep sleep after shoko arrived and provided you with medicine, diagnosing you with food poisoning. thankfully, you were only experiencing slight diarrhea and a fever, but the worst seemed to be over, and you finally had some peace.

in the living room, gojo and geto set to work cleaning up the mess of takeout containers and leftovers scattered about. as they tackled the remnants of your lazy day, gojo noticed something odd—a box of food he didn’t remember ordering or eating.

he raised an eyebrow, picking up the container and inspecting it closely. “hey, sugu,” he called out, his voice curious as he approached his boyfriend, who was busy stacking plates in the sink. “did you eat this?” geto glanced at the container that gojo was holding, his expression one of confusion as he took it in his own hands. he studied it for a moment, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall.

“no, i didn’t even know we had this,” he replied, his voice puzzled. “do you remember ordering it?” gojo shook his head, his eyes fixed on the mysterious food. “i don’t remember ordering it either,” he said, his tone a mix of confusion and curiosity.

he looked to geto for answers, but he was just as bewildered. the fact that neither of them remembered ordering the food was strange and a little alarming.

“where could it have come from, then?” gojo mused aloud, his fingers tapping against the container. geto leaned closer to the container, inspecting the food with a furrowed brow. after a moment, he straightened up and said, “you know, it's possible that she ate this. maybe she thought it was part of the order we placed and just went for it.”

gojo considered the possibility, the theory making some sense. “yeah, that could be true,” he said slowly, his eyes still fixed on the food.

he glanced over at geto, a mix of realization and concern in his expression. “but that means we’ve been sitting around on our asses, clueless, while she’s been the one to actually experience food poisoning.” geto nodded firmly, his expression serious as he looked at gojo. “we’re definitely not ordering from that place again,” he said, determination in his voice. “i won’t take another chance for you or her to end up with food poisoning. it’s not worth it.”

gojo nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring geto's seriousness. “yeah, you're right,” he said, his grip tightening on the container. “no more ordering from that place. i can’t handle seeing her like that again.”

he looked down at the food once more, a mixture of anger and concern playing across his face. “i just can’t believe we didn’t give it a second thought until now.” gojo sighed heavily, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “i just hope she’ll be okay. shoko did say she’ll be fine, right? just need some rest and fluids?”

geto nodded, his expression reassuring as he leaned against the counter. “yeah, shoko said it’s just a mild case of food poisoning, and she’ll be fine with some rest and fluids,” he assured gojo. “we just gotta make sure she hydrates and gets plenty of sleep. but she should be back to normal in no time.”

gojo exhaled deeply, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “that’s good to hear,” he murmured, his frown lessening slightly. a wave of relief course through him. he ran his hand through his hair again, feeling a bit foolish for not having realized it sooner.

“god, i feel like an idiot,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the food. he set the container down on the counter and turned to geto, a hint of guilt in his eyes. “i can’t believe we didn’t think to check if she had eaten anything different. we’re some great boyfriends, huh?”

geto chuckled softly, sensing gojo's guilt-ridden thoughts. he reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately. “hey, it’s okay,” he reassured him. “yeah, we messed up this time, but we’ll be more careful in the future. that’s what matters, right?”

he paused for a moment, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “besides, we may be lousy at checking our food orders, but i think we make pretty damn good boyfriends otherwise.” gojo couldn’t help but crack a small smile at geto’s words. his boyfriend’s optimism was contagious, and it helped to ease some of the self-blame he was feeling.

“yeah, i guess you’re right,” he admitted, his hand reaching out to lightly shove geto’s shoulder. “we’re not perfect, but damn, we’re pretty close.”

he let out a breath, his eyes returning to the container on the countertop. “we really should throw this out, huh? just in case.” geto shot gojo a look, raising an eyebrow with a familiar attitude that gojo instantly recognized—you’d rubbed off on him, no doubt. “yeah, obviously,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, mirroring the sass you’d so often used.

gojo couldn’t help but laugh loudly, the sound filling the kitchen. geto’s sudden sassiness reminded him vividly of you, and he had to admit, it was oddly endearing coming from his usually more stoic boyfriend.

“damn, you’re really picking up her attitude, aren’t you?” he teased, leaning against the countertop with a wide grin. “next thing i know, you’ll be rolling your eyes at me and everything.”

geto chuckled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “oh, i wouldn’t put it past me,” he responded, feigning nonchalance. “if you keep up your smartass comments, i might just start rolling my eyes more often.”

he stepped forward, closing the distance between them, his hands holding the taller man in the waist. “you better watch yourself, satoru. i’m learning from the best here.” gojo’s grin only widened at geto’s playful threat. he could feel the warm heat of geto’s hands on his waist, and the closeness of their bodies sent a shiver up his spine.

“oh, is that a challenge, babe?” he purred, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone.

he closed the remaining gap between them, his arms wrapping around geto’s neck and drawing him closer. “you better watch out, i can get pretty smart-mouthed myself.” as they stood there, bodies pressed against each other, their breath mingling and the heat between them growing rapidly, gojo’s mind began to wander. geto’s boldness and playfulness brought out a primal desire within him.

a low growl rumbled in his throat, his fingers digging into geto’s shirt as he leaned in, his lips grazing against the soft skin of geto’s neck.

“keep this up, and you’re gonna get more than just rolling eyes, suguru,” he whispered, his voice dripping with innuendo. geto shivered at the sound of gojo’s voice, the rough and lustful tone sending a wave of heat pooling in his stomach. he could feel the desire between them, a dangerous and intense thing.

he pressed himself closer, his body molding against gojo’s with a fervor. his hands moved, moving under the hem of gojo’s shirt, fingers tracing the defined muscles of his abdomen.

“promise?” he breathed out, his own voice thick with need. too busy in their own little bubble, they didn’t notice you walked out of the hallway, still feeling weak but managing to steady yourself, you caught sight of your boyfriends locked in an intense moment. rolling your eyes with a hint of sarcasm, you slowly approached them.

“cute,” you muttered dryly, your voice laced with mock amusement as you took in the sight of them. despite feeling drained, you couldn't resist teasing them even in this situation. a startled gasp escaped gojo’s lips as he heard your voice. he pulled away from geto, his eyes wide with surprise and caught off guard. his cheeks instantly flushed a slight shade of pink.

geto, on the other hand, smirked at the sight of you. his hand move from gojo's back to on the small of your back, pulling you into his embrace.

“hey there, sleeping beauty,” he said, his tone playful as he smiled down at you. gojo chuckled nervously, still recovering from the abruptness of your arrival. “babe, don’t sneak up on us like that,” he grumbled, his arms folding across his chest in a defensive manner.

he gave you a once-over, noticing the exhaustion that still clung to your features. even though you looked tired and weak, you were still as sarcastic as ever. a mix of relief and amusement flickered in his gaze as he took in your unimpressed expression. you let out a soft hum, too tired to respond with your usual sharp sarcasm, and rested your head against geto’s chest. the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart were comforting, helping ease the lingering discomfort in your stomach.

“mmm... just needed some water,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. geto responded by wrapping his arms around you, his embrace firm and soothing. his hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, a silent reassurance.

gojo watched as you snuggled against geto, his heart squeezing with a mixture of affection and concern. he moved closer, his hand gently caressing your hair.

“why didn’t you call us?” he asked, his tone a blend of worry and tenderness. “you shouldn’t be up and moving around. you need to rest, babe.” you tilted your head slightly, giving them both a tired but playful smirk. “i did call you,” you murmured, your voice still weak but laced with teasing. “but apparently, you two were too busy to listen.”

gojo sputtered slightly, caught off guard by your quick, sassy retort. he shot a glance at geto, who simply chuckled in amusement.

“yeah, well, we were just... um...” gojo stumbled over his words, his mind blanking as he struggled to come up with a viable excuse.

geto, meanwhile, chuckled again, his arms still wrapped around you. “you’re a feisty little thing, even when you’re sick,” he teased, giving your side a light poke. gojo shot geto a glare that clearly said ‘thanks for the help.’ he knew there was no use in trying to justify their... distracted behavior. you had caught them red-handed.

he redirected his attention back to you, his hand reaching to cup your face.

“fine, you got us,” he admitted, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “we should’ve been paying more attention. but seriously, you really shouldn’t be out of bed yet.” you leaned into gojo’s hand, your eyes still half-lidded with exhaustion without lifting your head from geto's chest. “i was just thirsty,” you muttered softly, “and wanted to find something to eat... i feel weak from all the throwing up and... well, the rest.” you grimaced slightly, not needing to explain further.

both geto and gojo’s expressions softened with concern at your words. the sight of you, looking so weak and weary, tugged at their hearts.

geto’s hand continued to gently rub your back, while gojo’s fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“babe, you shouldn’t be eating solids right now,” gojo said, his voice gentle but firm. “you’ll just make yourself sick again. we can get you some water and snacks, but nothing too heavy, okay?”

you nodded.

"great," gojo murmured, his hand still caressing your hair. he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. gojo gave you a small smile, satisfied that you weren’t going to argue. he glanced over at geto, who was still holding you in his arms.

“alright, let’s get you back to bed,” geto said, his arms shifting to lift you into his arms. “you okay holding her?” gojo asked, looking at the other man. “i’ll go get some water and something for her to nibble on.”

geto nodded, his grip on you firm and gentle. he looked down at you, your head resting against his chest. he couldn’t help but think how small and fragile you looked right now, his heart panging with concern.

“i’ve got her,” geto assured gojo as he began walking towards the bedroom. “just bring the food and water when you’re done. i’ll keep her company ‘til then.” gojo nodded in response, his gaze lingering on you and geto. a mix of worry and affection was evident in his eyes.

“i’ll be there in a minute,” he said, his voice hushed as he watched you being carried away. he knew geto would take care of you, but he still couldn’t shake off the feeling of helplessness.

with a slight shake of his head, he turned and headed towards the kitchen to gather the requested supplies. gojo moved quickly through the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with cool water. he also grabbed a few soft, bland snacks that would be gentle on your stomach.

as he did, his mind wandered back to you. he was used to you being strong and independent, able to handle yourself. seeing you so weak and vulnerable was a rare sight.

gojo couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. he should’ve been more attentive to you and your condition earlier. minwhile, geto carried you into the bedroom, his steps were slow and measured, trying not to jostle you too much. he gently laid you down on the bed, propping up the pillows to make you more comfortable. he sat down on the edge, his eyes never leaving your face.

he reached out, his hand finding yours and giving it a soft squeeze. “you holding up okay, babe?” he asked, his voice low and gentle. you gave a small nod in response, your hand weakly squeezing his back. the fatigue in your eyes and the exhaustion etched across your face were hard to miss.

despite his concern, geto couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at the sight of you. you looked so vulnerable, so dependent on him and gojo. it was a rare glimpse of your softer side, and a side that he appreciated seeing, even if it was under these circumstances.

geto continued to watch you, his eyes carefully scanning your features. he could see the way your body tensed as a wave of nausea struck you, and the way your eyelids fluttered as exhaustion clawed at you.

he reached out, gently running his fingers through your hair in a comforting gesture. he didn’t say much, knowing that you needed rest more than words at the moment. his presence was meant to be a silent comfort, a steady reassurance that he was there for you.

he leaned closer, his fingers tracing the soft line of your cheek. “it’s okay,” he murmured, assuring not only you but himself. “toru’s bringing some water and snacks. you need to stay hydrated, okay?”

he paused, his eyes scanning over you. the protective instincts he had over you were kicking into overdrive. “is there anything else you need? a cool washcloth, a bucket to vomit in, anything?” you shook your head, your tired eyes meeting geto’s. “no,” you mumbled weakly. “just... just the water and food for now.”

you closed your eyes momentarily, the effort of talking and staying awake slowly draining you further. you let out a small sigh, your body sinking deeper into the pillows, seeking the comfort and rest they offered.

geto watched you sink into the pillows, his heart clenching a little at the sight. he hated seeing you like this, so weak and weary.

he continued to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. he didn’t say much, letting the silence and the steady rhythm of his hand provide some small comfort.

he knew gojo would be back with the water and snacks soon. he just needed to keep you calm and relaxed until then. as he continued to stroke your hair, geto's mind began to wander. he thought about how this had happened, how you had become so ill. they should've been paying more attention to you, they should've noticed the signs earlier.

guilt stirred in his chest, but he tried to push it aside. there was no use dwelling on past mistakes. right now, his focus needed to be on you, taking care of you and making sure you recovered. as if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, along with the soft creek of the bedroom door opening.

gojo entered the room, holding a glass of water and snacks and banana. he quickly moved closer to the bed, his eyes taking in your tired appearance.

“hey, my love,” he murmured quietly, taking a seat on the other side of the bed. “i’ve got water and some light snacks for you.” you opened your eyes as gojo approached, a slight shift of your head acknowledging his presence. the simple act seemed to require great effort, your eyes barely able to stay focused.

the sound of his voice, low and gentle, pierced through the haze of fatigue. you managed a small, weak smile as you looked at him, a mix of exhaustion and affection in your gaze. “thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you move to sit properly.

gojo placed the glass of water on the bedside table, along with the snacks. he watched as you moved to sit up, your movements slow and labored. concern flickered in his eyes, but he held back from fussing over you too much.

“take it easy,” he murmured, his hand gently guiding you back against the pillows. “you don’t need to sit up. just rest and try to drink some water, okay?” you raised an eyebrow at gojo, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite your exhaustion. “how am i supposed to drink while laying down? it’s just gonna go all over my face,” you teased, your voice weak but sarcastic.

gojo chuckled softly, amused by your feistiness despite your current state. he knew even the slightest bit of sarcasm meant you were slowly starting to feel like yourself again. “fair point,“ he conceded, taking the water from the bedside table. he gently shifted to sit beside you, adjusting the pillows so your head was slightly lifted. “but we can’t have you choking while you’re sipping water now, can we? so let me do it for you.”

geto, who had been watching the exchange between you and gojo, rolled his eyes playfully. he couldn’t help but find your stubborn sassiness endearing, even in your weakened condition. “just give in and let satoru help you, baby,” he chimed in, a hint of amusement in his tone. “it’s better than having a wet pillow.”

you chuckled softly, glancing over at geto with a tired but amused smile. “sorry, but sometimes satoru says things that just make me want to slap him in the face,” you muttered, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

gojo clutched his chest in mock offense, feigning a wounded expression. “hey! i’m just trying to help you, you know,” he retorted, a fake pout forming on his lips. meanwhile, geto chuckled at your exchange. your sharp tongue and witty remarks never failed to entertain them both. “always got something to say, huh?” he teased.

he leaned back, resting his arms behind his head as he watched you and gojo continue banter. geto was grateful that even in your current state, you still had your feisty personality. it was a good sign that you hadn’t lost your spirit completely. “just drink the damn water and let us take care of you,” geto chimed in, his tone lighthearted yet firm. “you can go back to being a smartass later.”

gojo huffed dramatically, still pretending to be hurt by your earlier comment. he knew you were just being sarcastic, but he couldn’t resist joining in on the banter. “maybe you prefer geto feeding you water, huh?” he joked, his hand holding the glass of water poised to feed you.

you shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “no, i want you to,” you said softly, your voice teasing but sincere as you looked up at gojo. despite the playful banter, there was something reassuring about having him take care of you, even if he was a little over the top sometimes.

gojo couldn't resist smirking at your words, loving the fact that you still wanted him to take care of you, despite the fact he was the one who had initially messed up. “you just can’t resist me, can you?” he teased, his tone filled with his usual arrogance. geto smirked as well, his eyes flickering between you and gojo, enjoying the interaction. he knew how much gojo treasured your dependence on him, even if it was just for something simple like feeding you water.

gojo carefully lifted the glass to your lips, his hand supporting the back of your head as you took small sips. he watched as your throat gently bobbed with each swallow, his eyes full of tenderness. “there you go,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “just a few more sips, okay?”

you nodded.

gojo continued to help you drink, making sure you took small sips so as not to overwhelm your still-sensitive stomach. he could see the tiredness etched on your face, but he also saw a flicker of gratitude in your eyes. once you had finished the glass, he set it down on the nightstand. gojo gently lowered your head back onto the pillow, adjusting your position to ensure you were comfortable. geto moved a little closer, his hand resting on your forehead, checking your temperature.

“you feel a bit warmer than before,” he commented, his voice laced with concern. “how’s your stomach? do you think you can manage some snacks?” you nodded weakly, a tired but grateful smile on your face. “yeah, i think the banana would be fine,” you murmured, feeling a little more stable now that the worst of it had passed.

gojo and geto exchanged glances, pleased to see you slowly regaining your strength. gojo grabbed the banana from the bedside table, peeling it open. he broke off a piece and held it up to your lips. “take small bites, okay?” he reminded you gently.

geto watched from the side, his hand now gently rubbing your shoulder. he could tell that you were starting to feel better, but he still wanted to ensure you didn’t push yourself too hard. “just focus on eating slowly,” he said, his voice steady and calming. “we don’t want you getting sick again.”

you chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. “got it, small bites,” you teased, opening your mouth as gojo brought the piece of banana closer. he fed you carefully, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you take the bite. “there you go, my beautiful spoiled girl,” he murmured, his voice gentle.

geto chuckled at gojo's comment, shaking his head in amusement. he knew gojo loved pampering a little too much, but he couldn't deny it was cute seeing you being taken care of so lovingly. “always with the spoiling,” geto mused, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair off your forehead before back to your shoulder.

gojo just shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. he couldn’t help it; you were his beautiful girl, and he loved doting on you. he broke off another piece of banana and raised it to your lips. “can you blame me for spoiling her when she’s so damn cute like this?” gojo asked, looking over at geto with a cheeky grin.

geto rolled his eyes playfully, knowing he had to step back and let gojo relish in his spoiling tendencies a little. “no, i guess i can’t,” he admitted, a slight smirk on his face. he leaned back, his hand still resting on your shoulder, while he watched gojo continue to feed you the banana.

gojo took his time feeding you, savouring every moment of pampering you. he felt satisfied knowing he was taking care of you, even if it was in a small way. once you’d finished the banana, he set the peels back on the tray, shifting his attention back to you. “how are you feeling now, baby? any nausea or anything?” he asked, his expression a mix of concern and affection.

you leaned back against the pillows, letting out a soft sigh of relief as you felt the lingering tension in your stomach start to ease. “i’m better now,” you murmured, your voice still a little tired but much calmer than before.

“my stomach still feels uncomfortable, but at least it doesn’t hurt anymore.” you paused for a moment, resting your hand on your belly as if testing the waters. “i think the worst of it is over,” you added, your lips curving into a small, relieved smile as you glanced up at gojo.

gojo’s concern softened slightly as he heard your words. it was a relief to know that you were feeling a bit better. he noticed the way you placed your hand on your stomach, as if checking your condition. “that’s good to hear,” he said, his voice gentle. “but remember, no solids for a while more, okay?”

geto spoke up from beside you, his expression a mix of worry and relief. “just stick to the liquids for now,“ he agreed. “let your stomach rest.”

you nodded at both of them, feeling reassured by their concern. “yeah, i know,” you replied, your voice soft. “no solids, i promise.” your hand still rested on your stomach, but the discomfort was manageable now, and their gentle presence made it easier to relax. “thanks for looking out for me,” you added, glancing between gojo and geto with a small smile.

both gojo and geto smiled back, their gazes soft and tender. they knew you weren’t fully recovered yet, but the fact that you could smile and talk without too much discomfort was a good sign. “of course, we always look out for you,“ geto said gently, his hand rubbing your shoulder in a comforting gesture. gojo chimed in as well, his hand coming to rest on your cheek. “we’d do anything to make sure you’re okay,“ he murmured, his eyes filled with affection.

the room fell into a comfortable silence as geto and gojo continued to watch over you, observing your condition and making sure you were as comfortable as possible. gojo’s hand remained on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin while geto’s hand continued its soothing rubbing on your shoulder. they were both quietly observing you, watching for any signs of discomfort or distress, ready to act if necessary.

a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you felt the warmth of their affection surrounding you. "if you two keep this up," you began, your voice teasing but sincere, “i won’t be able to help it... i’ll just fall in love with you all over again.”

you gazed up at them, your heart swelling with emotion as you took in their tender expressions, the way they cared for you so deeply. it was obvious how much they cared for you, how concerned they were about your wellbeing. the love, the tenderness, it was palpable in the air.

both geto and gojo smirked at your words, their gazes filled with love and understanding. they knew you were teasing, but at the same time, the truth in your words was evident. gojo chuckled softly, his hand still on your cheek. “oh, is that so?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

geto’s smile mirrored gojo’s, his hand on your shoulder giving a gentle comforting squeeze as he spoke. “f we’re too affectionate, will you fall even harder for us, huh?” the room was filled with their laughter, their voices blending together in a mix of lighthearted humor and genuine affection.

gojo’s fingers traced small circles on your skin, his touch light and soothing. “if you fall any harder for us, we’ll have to tie you up and keep you with us always,” he joked. geto shook his head, grinning at gojo’s words. “or we’ll have to lock you up in our arms and never let you go,” he added, his voice filled with affectionate teasing.

you rolled your eyes playfully, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “look at the two of you, going all yandere on me all of a sudden,” you teased, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “should i be worried?”

though your words were mocking, the affection in your voice was clear. you leaned back into the pillows, raising an eyebrow at both of them. “next thing i know, you’ll be locking me in a tower somewhere, huh?”

you couldn't help but chuckle softly, enjoying the playful banter as much as their care. “honestly, i don’t know whether to be scared or flattered,” you added, your smirk growing wider as you met their amused gazes.

gojo’s smirk only widened at your response. “scared and flattered. it’s the perfect mix,” he quipped, his hand moving to run through your hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands. geto chuckled at your comment, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “you should be scared, because you're not going anywhere without us,” he joked.

“we’d happily lock you up in a tower if it means having you all to ourselves,” he added, his voice filled with affection and a hint of possessiveness. the atmosphere in the room was light and playful, their bantering was filled with affectionate teases and mock-threats.

gojo’s hand continued to play with your hair, his touch gentle and affectionate. “can you imagine it? you trapped in a tower, surrounded by our love and attention,” he teased, a hint of a smirk on his lips. geto nodded. “we’d take turns feeding you, bathing you, making sure you’re never lonely,” he added, his voice soft but filled with obvious possessiveness.

you nodded with a sarcastic grin, playing along with their possessive teasing. “oh, absolutely,” you said, your voice dripping with mock seriousness. “and in no time, i'll be completely disabled from all that love and attention.” you leaned back further into the pillows, crossing your arms over your chest as you gave them both a knowing look. “sounds like i wouldn’t be able to move an inch without one of you hovering over me. what a life, huh?”

your smirk widened as you added, “i might as well get used to being completely helpless if that’s the plan.” you glanced between gojo and geto, the playful sarcasm in your voice masking the warmth and affection you felt from their over-the-top devotion.

gojo chuckled, enjoying your playful banter. “helpless?” he repeated, his voice filled with mock surprise. “oh, you have no idea how much pleasure we would get from having you completely dependent on us.” geto grinned, eyeing you in a way that showed he was only half-joking. “helpless and completely at our mercy,” he agreed, his voice low, almost sultry.

“sounds like a dream come true for us,” gojo added, his hand moving down to your hip, resting there casually. you felt a shiver run down your spine as their eyes stayed glued to you, watching your every move with a strange intensity. the playful banter took on a different weight, and their unblinking gazes made your heart race.

nervously, you grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked both of them with it. “okay, freaks, stop looking at me like that!” you exclaimed, laughing despite the tension they were building. “seriously, you're making me nervous.”

as they laughed in response, you narrowed your eyes at them, half-joking but with a sliver of suspicion. “i’m starting to think you two are really going to lock me up somewhere,” you added with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “i mean, you’re taking this whole possessive thing a little too far, don’t you think?” you hit them again lightly with the pillow, trying to shake off the nervous energy their intense stares had stirred up. “next thing i know, i’ll wake up chained to the bed or something.”

gojo smirked, dodging the pillow with a laugh. “hey, don’t give us ideas,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

geto chuckled, his gaze flickering over you like a cat eyeing its prey. “chained to the bed, huh? now that's a pretty picture,” he said, his voice sultry and full of mischief. both of them seemed to enjoy playing on your nervous energy, loving the reaction they were getting from you.

gojo leaned in closer, his hand gently taking the pillow from you. “you know, we could make that happen,” he said, his voice low and filled with suggestiveness.

geto moved closer as well, his hand coming to rest on your other hip. “we’d take good care of you, though,” he murmured, his voice a soft contrast to gojo’s more direct approach. “chained up, helpless, completely at our mercy..”

you rolled your eyes at their teasing, feeling your energy wane after all the playful back-and-forth. “yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” you muttered, moving to lay down on the bed.

as you stretched out on the cool sheets, your body sinking into the mattress, you couldn’t help but chuckle tiredly. “you two and your nonsense,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket up to your chin as you felt exhaustion start to settle in.

closing your eyes, you added with a sigh, “i swear, if you keep talking about chaining me up, i’m gonna fall asleep just to escape.” despite your playful words, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort knowing that even with their jokes, they were always there to take care of you.

gojo chuckled, his hand still holding the pillow he took from you. “we’re just teasing, babe,” he reassured you, his voice now softer, more affectionate. geto shifted closer, his hand rubbing your hip comfortingly. “yeah, we wouldn't really chain you up,” he reassured, a small smile on his lips. as you snuggled deeper into the bed, both gojo and geto noticed the visible fatigue in your eyes. the teasing tone in their voices faded, replaced with a gentler, more caring demeanor.

you shifted in bed, trying to find a position that eased the lingering discomfort in your stomach. letting out a frustrated sigh, you adjusted the blanket around you, tossing slightly before finally settling on your side, resting your head on gojo’s arm. “ugh, i hate this,” you muttered, frowning as the ache still tugged at you.

gojo automatically adjusted his position to accommodate your head, his eyes watching you intently. “i know, babe,” he murmured, rubbing your back comfortingly.

geto leaned closer from the other side, his hand still gently resting on your hip. “just try to relax,” he said, his voice as soft as ever. they both could see the frustration and discomfort etched on your face and was doing their best to soothe you, both knowing that there wasn’t much they could do apart from provide comfort and emotional support.

gojo’s hand continued to rub your back, his touch gentle but firm. “do you think you can manage a few more sips of water or some tea?” he asked quietly, wanting to help in any way he could.

geto nodded in agreement. “some hydration might help with the discomfort,” he added, his hand patting your hip gently. they both looked genuinely concerned and wanted to see you feeling better as soon as possible. “i’d really like some tea,” you replied softly, glancing at geto with a small smile. “and can you add honey? it always makes me feel better.”

geto returned your smile, nodding gently. “of course,” he said soothingly. “honey-sweetened tea it is.” gojo chimed in, his hand still rubbing your back in a comforting circle. “we’ll make sure it’s not too hot so you can enjoy it without straining your stomach,” he said, his voice filled with care. both of them knew how much a simple cup of tea could mean to you, especially when you weren’t feeling well.

as you turned to face gojo, a playful smile crossed your lips. you lifted the blanket slightly, creating a cozy little space beside you, silently inviting him to join you. “c’mere baby,” you teased lightly, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

gojo chuckled at your invitation, a playful smirk on his lips. he knew exactly what you were suggesting. “oh, can’t resist me, huh?” he teased back, his voice filled with amusement. he didn’t waste a moment, shifting his position and sliding under the covers next to you. his arm instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against his body.

as gojo pulled you closer, you let out a soft hum of satisfaction, feeling the warmth radiate from him. you sighed in relief, your body melting into his embrace as you relaxed against him. the gentle pressure of his arm around your waist was comforting, making you feel safe and cherished.

your fingers found their way to his hair, playfully running through the soft strands. it felt nice to be close to him like this, and you couldn’t help but smile at how easy it was to forget your discomfort in his presence. “you always know how to make me feel better,” you murmured, your voice soft as you let your fingers play with his hair, enjoying the moment of calm amidst the chaos.

gojo smirked at your words, feeling a sense of satisfaction in being able to bring you comfort. he leaned into your touch, savoring the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. he wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you even closer against him, your head resting gently against his chest. “just doing my job, babe,” he said, his voice filled with fondness. “can’t have my beautiful girl feeling less than perfect, now can i?”

you smiled and hummed softly once again, the warmth of the moment enveloped you both. your fingers traced along his cheek, and you couldn’t help but admire the way his eyes sparkled with affection as they locked onto yours. laying on your sides, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble.

“i’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with sincerity. “i just… sometimes i don’t know how to handle everything.” you took a breath, searching his eyes for reassurance. “but you know i love you, right?” you asked, your heart racing slightly at the vulnerability of the moment. “no matter how cranky i get, you mean the world to me.”

gojo smiled affectionately, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb tenderly caressing your skin. he knew you had a lot to deal with but was glad you felt comfortable enough to express your emotions. he leaned in close, his eyes never leaving yours. “of course i do,” he murmured, his voice filled with tender conviction. “even when you’re cranky, you’re still the most precious thing to me. nothing could ever change that, not even your worst moods.”

gojo’s smile widened slightly as he continued to caress your cheek, his touch warm and soft. he loved how you still felt the need to reassure him of your love, even though you both knew it in your hearts.

he looked into your eyes, his gaze intense and full of affection. “besides,” he began, his voice dropping to a sultry purr, “i think i kind of like when you get feisty. it’s hot, you know.” your eyebrows shot up in surprise, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “oh?” you echoed, amusement dancing in your voice. “you find it hot when i'm about to slap the shit out of you?”

gojo chuckled, his grip on your waist tightening playfully. “maybe,” he smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “keeps things exciting, don’t you think?” you rolled your eyes, still smiling. “you’re such a freak, ’toru,” you said with a mock sigh, but there was warmth in your tone, the playful banter between you two feeling comforting and familiar.

gojo gave you a roguish grin, his eyes sparkling with affection. “hey, i can’t help it if you’re so damn hot when you’re all fired up, your feisty side just does something for me,” he chuckled, his hand drifting down to give your hip a light squeeze.

he let out a soft laugh at the mock-exasperation in your voice, loving the lighthearted banter between you. “if loving your fiery side makes me a freak, i’m glad to be one,” he teased, his voice filled with genuine fondness.

gojo’s eyes flickered with mischief as he continued the playful banter. “yeah, maybe that’s why i keep egging you on, ‘cause i just love seeing that feisty side of you come out.” his hand moved back up to your face, his fingertips lightly tracing the line of your jaw. “though i wouldn’t mind you using those hands of yours for something else,” he teased, his voice dropping an octave.

you chuckled, shaking your head slightly at his teasing. “pervert,” you muttered affectionately, but the smile on your face betrayed how much you enjoyed his playful flirting. without another word, you slid your arm under his head, pulling him closer until your lips met his in a soft, lingering kiss. your smile remained against his mouth as you kissed him, the warmth between you two radiating with affection and familiarity. you could feel him relax into you, the teasing replaced with something deeper, more tender.

gojo let out a soft hum, his hand coming up to gently cup the back of your head, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. his lips moved lazily against yours, tender and affectionate. he could feel himself melt into your touch, his tongue darting out to slide against yours, the taste of you familiar and comforting. his free hand roamed lazily over your body, tracing the curves and dips of your frame, as if trying to memorize every bit of you.

as the kiss continued, his touch grew more intimate, his hand now gently toying with the hem of your shirt, his fingers sliding underneath to graze against your bare skin. he broke the kiss, his lips moving to trail tender kisses down your jawline and to your neck, his breath warm and heavy against your skin. “god, i love you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with quiet awe.

gojo's eyes drifted to your face after he pulls away, studying your expression as he continued to hold you close.

“besides,” he added, his voice dropping to a low, seductive murmur. “i'll take your feisty side, your cranky side, your grumpy side, your sad side… i’ll take all of you, every bit and piece.” he let out a soft, affectionate laugh, his hand rubbing your hip gently. “you’re mine, after all. both the good and the bad. and i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

his eyes stayed fixed on your face, drinking in your expressions as he continued to speak, his voice a low, seductive murmur. “even when you’re being pissy and grumpy, you’re still the most gorgeous thing i’ve ever laid eyes on. and i’ll take all of you, all of your sides.”

he chuckled softly, his hand gently rubbing your hip in affection. “you’re mine, every part of you. and i wouldn't change a thing about you, including your cranky, feisty moments.” he gently pulled you closer to him, his arms wrapping around your body like a protective shield. he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he spoke.

you gazed at gojo, a soft smile playing on your lips as his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket. your heart swelled at his sweet, possessive confession, and you opened your mouth to respond, but just as you did, the door creaked open.

geto entered, holding a cup of tea with honey, his eyes flickering between the two of you. “am i interrupting something?” he teased lightly, his lips tugging into a smirk as he placed the tea on the bedside table. you glanced at him, your smile widening. “just in time,” you replied with a playful tone, momentarily resting your head against gojo’s chest before reaching for the tea and sitting up.

gojo chuckled softly, his arm still holding you close. he looked toward the door, his lips curving into a smile as he saw geto enter. he rolled his eyes at geto’s teasing question, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. “yeah, actually you are,” he shot back with a smirk, watching as you sat up and reached for the tea. he continued to watch you with affectionate eyes, his hand idly tracing small circles on your back as you took a sip of the tea. “thanks, babe,” you said to geto, your voice soft and grateful.

geto moved closer to the bed, his eyes flickering between you and gojo as he studied the subtle interactions between the two of you. he perched himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes tracing over your features, lingering on your face. “how’s the tea?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. he knew you weren’t feeling your best, and the sight of you struggling with discomfort tugged at his heart strings.

you let out a soft, contented moan as the warmth of the tea spread through your body, soothing your throat and stomach. “mmm, that feels so good,” you murmured, handing the cup back to geto with a grateful smile. “thank you, suguru. i feel a lot warmer now.”

geto's expression softened, a small smile tugging at his lips as he took the cup back from you. he placed it gently on the bedside table before turned his gaze back to you. he knew how much small gestures like bringing you a cup of tea could mean, especially when you were feeling unwell. the look of contentment on your face was confirmation enough that he had done well.

he gently reached out, his hand tenderly brushing hair from your face as he spoke, his voice filled with care. “anything for you, babe. just try to take it easy, yeah?”

you nodded softly, feeling a little more at ease as you shifted your body to lay on your back. the movement was slow and careful, your stomach still a little tender, but the warmth of the tea and the comforting presence of both geto and gojo made it easier.

“i will,” you whispered, looking up at the two of them as you settled back against the pillows. you felt their eyes watching you closely, still protective and filled with concern, but the warmth and care in their gazes made you feel safe.

geto's eyes remained fixed on you, watching your every move with a mixture of concern and tenderness. he could see that your movements were careful, your stomach still causing you some discomfort. he silently scooted closer to you on the bed, his body gently settling next to your own. his hand reached out to gently brush against your arm, his touch feather-light. “just try to relax, sweetheart,” he muttered softly, his voice filled with soothing reassurance.

you shifted a bit, creating just enough space for geto to lay down beside you. “lay with me,” you said softly, gesturing for him to join you. “i want you close.” his presence always made you feel more at ease, and you appreciated how he always seemed to know when you needed comfort.

geto smiled softl, complying with your request without any hesitation. he shifted his body, lowering himself down onto the bed beside you, his body snuggling against your side, molding to your form perfectly. his hand moved to rest gently on your stomach, his touch slow and deliberate, mindful of your discomfort. “i’m right here, babe,” he murmured, his voice gentle and soothing. “not going anywhere.”

“there, that's better,” you murmured, a small smile forming on your lips as you look up the glow in the dark sticker of stars on your ceiling. “now we can relax together.” you could feel the gentle smile on his face, and it made your heart feel a little lighter.

geto snuggled closer to you, his body wrapping around yours like a warm, protective shield. his head rested against your shoulder, his breathing steady and deep, matching yours. his hand continued to gently roamed over your stomach in a soothing pattern, his touch light and rhythmic.

he could feel the smile in your voice, and it made his own heart feel a little warmer. “that’s right,” he whispered, his voice soft and tender. “we’ll relax together, just the three of us.”

“and don’t worry,” he added, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear. “we’re here for you. always.” he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment. “just close your eyes, sweetheart. we’ll take care of you.”

gojo had been watching the scene play out between the two of you from the other side of the bed, his eyes filled with warm affection as he observed the intimate moment.

he could feel the love and comfort radiating from both of you, and it filled his heart with a sense of peace and contentment. he didn’t want to interrupt, but he also yearned to be closer to you. he shifted his position slightly, scooting a little closer, wrapping his arm around you and geto. his head nestled in your shoulder, “go to sleep, baby, we will make sure everything’s gonna be alright.”

as gojo moved closer, geto glanced at him briefly, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. he could feel the love and protectiveness radiating from gojo's body, and it only served to further reassure him. he let his body relax against you, leaning slightly into gojo's embrace as he shifted to accommodate both of them.

“yeah, sweetheart,” he agreed softly, his voice filled with tender warmth. “we’ve got you. let go and rest. we’ll be right here when you wake up.”

you felt their presence around you, feeling the weight of gojo's arm draped over you like a warm, protective blanket. his voice was soft and reassuring, whispering in your ear and bringing a sense of comfort.

you let out a small, contented sigh, feeling the weight of your earlier distress slowly lifting. the warmth and care from both of them made you feel safe and loved, and your eyes started to feel heavy as weariness began to set in. “alright,” you whispered softly, your voice slurred with exhaustion. “i love you both.” and closed your eyes.

gojo tucked his head into your neck, his face nuzzling against your skin. he breathed in deeply, inhaling your scent and taking comfort in your presence.

he could feel the tension slowly easing from your body, and he relished the idea that his and geto’s presence was having a calming effect on you. upon hearing your mumbled declaration of love, gojo couldn't help but smile. he gave you a gentle squeeze, his voice soft and filled with tenderness. “we love you too, sweetheart. get some rest now.”