#I’m gonna hold your hand through it don’t worry

[wonderjanga]

I Want My Money.

Billy likes money, he’s said this before, but nearly all the time, money is tight. So, it’s rare when he’ll lend someone a buck or two, and when he lends them a buck, he expects that buck paid back in full.

Marvel: “Ah, Flash! You haven’t paid me back yet. I kinda need my money.” *all kind and nice*

Flash: “Huh? Oh yeah. Don’t worry, man. I got ya.”

Later…

Marvel: *a little more impatiently* “Flash? My twenty? You uh still haven’t gotten it for me.”

Flash: “Yeah dude. I’ll get it to you.”

Even more later…

Marvel: *annoyed* “Flash.” *speaking through grit teeth* “Flash get me my twenty dollars. Now.” *hands on Flash’s shoulders*

Flash: *kinda scared cause he hasn’t seen Marvel ever really show anger* “Dude, I said I’d get it for you.”

Marvel: “Yeah, now. Get it for me now. Please.”

Flash: “I- uh- I’ll be right back.” *zooms off and comes back with a twenty* “Here, man.”

Marvel: *super smiley and normal again* “Thanks, Flash.” *takes the money and walks off like nothing happened*

Flash: “No problem…” *whiplashed at the sudden change*

Wally had like no idea what to make of this interaction. The man was so generous. He didn’t think he’d be this pressed about twenty dollars. Like for example, they found space rock that could’ve been sold for millions apparently and he just gave it all to Wally like it was nothing. (Billy had no idea where to sell it. Bros never heard of eBay, not that he has an electronic device to use it on) But twenty dollars? Wow. Wally didn’t know if Marvel needed his priorities straight or what. All the speedster knew was that he was never gonna cross Marvel about money again. It’s honestly his bad anyways.

Then there was the one time Adam owed him five dollars. Don’t ask him why he lent him the money. Billy now recognizes it was a moment of weakness.

Black Adam and Marvel: *fighting*

Marvel: *stops fighting* “Dude, are you going to pay me back my money?”

Black Adam: *also stops fighting* “What are you talking about? What money?”

Marvel: “My money? Y’know, the five dollars I lent you?”

Black Adam: “Five dollars- I’m not paying you back for that!”

Marvel: “That’s common courtesy, man!”

Black Adam: “I don’t care! I’d rather die than repay you for anything!”

Black Adam didn’t really expect for this to backfire on him. As a result of not paying back a measly five dollars, Adam was met with Marvel appearing in his palace at the ass crack of dawn, demanding his money.

Black Adam: *honestly a little surprised Marvel came to Kahndaq because he’s never really came to the country before* “You do realize you’re breaching my country’s national security-”

Marvel: “I DON’T CARE. Teth, give me my money.”

Black Adam: “You’re willing to risk my country dissolving into war with your country over five dollars?”

Marvel: “Yes? Money. Now.” *makes grabby hands*

Black Adam: “Bumbling idiot…” *massages temples* “I’m not paying you back! How difficult is it to get that through your thick skull?!”

Billy did not like that answer. So now, the Justice League and everyone who had the pleasure of being online the day after this incident were met with a video of Marvel beating on Adam harsher than they, or anyone else for that matter had even seen before.

Marvel: “JUST GIVE ME MY MONEY!”

Black Adam: “NO!”

In the end, Billy still didn’t get his money. And this actually wasn’t because Adam didn’t want to pay, but rather Adam’s country doesn’t use American dollars so he went there, beat up their leader, and basically did it all for nothing. Honestly looking back at it, Billy didn’t really know what he was expecting. Neither his nor Adam suits have pockets, so he kind of doubts that he had a wallet to hold money in the first place. He was honestly just glad Adam, for whatever reason, didn’t follow through on his promise to go to war with America.

So yeah… in conclusion, Billy Batson can, and will crash out over five dollars.

[lucyblue101]

I’m gonna eat you now 🙂‍↕️

Satoru x reader

Pure fluff 🥹

You were nestled up against Satoru, the two of you cozied on the couch in the kind of relaxed comfort that only came with long, lazy evenings. Everything was soft, quiet, and perfect—until Satoru’s mischievous side decided to surface.

He started with a gentle poke to your arm, then to your side, and when you gave him a look, his grin only widened as he poked you again.

“If you don’t stop it, I’m gonna hurt you,” you warned, a playful smirk creeping onto your face.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged, eyebrows raised, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Go for it.”

He didn’t stop. Instead, he kept poking and prodding, laughing as he jabbed at your side. You swatted at his hands, but he was relentless, cackling every time he managed to dodge you.

Finally, you decided to turn the tables. With a grin, you lunged forward, pinning him down as best you could. “Alright, Satoru,” you said, voice laced with mock menace. “You’ve left me no choice. I’m going to eat you now.”

At first, he just laughed, clearly amused. “Oh, really? Good luck with that.”

But his confidence wavered when you leaned down, starting to nibble playfully on his shoulder. His laugh turned into an adorably flustered giggle as you moved to his neck, and he squirmed beneath you, clearly caught off guard.

“A-ah! Hey—wait, stop, that tickles!” he protested, but there was no real resistance in his voice.

Ignoring his pleas, you lifted up his shirt just enough to reveal his stomach, leaning down to nibble on his tummy as well. Satoru’s laughter turned breathless, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush, and he squirmed even more, letting out a mixture of giggles and gasps.

When you glanced up, though, you noticed something unexpected: his pretty blue eyes were glossy, glistening with unshed tears. Your heart stuttered, and you immediately softened your touch, worry replacing your playful energy.

“Oh, baby,” you murmured, gently cupping his face. “I’m sorry—I thought we were just playing around.”

He blinked, quickly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, chuckling shakily. “No, no, it’s not that. I just…” He hesitated, swallowing hard. “I just love you so much. It’s stupid, but…you make me feel so happy.”

Your heart swelled, and without another word, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight, warm hug. “You beautiful, sweet boy,” you whispered, running a hand through his white hair. “I love you too. More than anything.”

He buried his face against your shoulder, arms circling you as he held you close, his own hold gentle but secure. You stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the warmth between you deeper than words.

Tags list (just let me know if you wanna go on it 🥹)

@canigotosleep--plz

@itsafairytalekay

@haruhatake

@hargun-s

@tibibibi123

@mistymuii

@moonchhu

@starlightanyaaa

I really appreciated feedback and comments 🥹🫶🏻 it really means the world to me 😊

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 11

Just two more chapters to go. The tension is ramping up and you're gonna want to hold on to your seats. This is the penultimate chapter before everything is revealed. And hooboy is it going to be great fun.

In this we find out who the cleaner was and he gives Eddie the final clue he needs to stop his troubles once and for all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~

Eddie enjoyed watching the cleaning crew. They were like bees in a hive, not bumping up against each other or trying to do the same tasks. Cleaning up after some days was hell, like Tuesdays and Saturdays and he always made sure to pay extra on those days.

That said, he really didn’t know any of them. The only familiar faces were the foremen. Eddie has asked the head forman about it once and was told that cleaning Hellfire was such a cushy job that he rotated teams so that everyone got a chance at it.

So imagine his surprise when one of the cleaners stopped Steve on his way out of the dressing room for a short chat.

It looked a little heated, if Eddie was being honest and was about to step in when Steve broke away from the conversation and drifted his direction.

Eddie cocked his head toward the cleaner. “Who was that?”

“An old friend of mine,” Steve said with a shrug. “I didn’t realize he had fallen on such hard times. Apparently his mom broke her hip and hasn’t been able to work for the last year.”

“That’s rough,” Eddie said, and waved his arm for Steve to go first. “I don’t know how much the cleaners make, but maybe if he puts in an application we can find him something to do here. Hell, he could work in the kitchen if Monty liked him well enough.”

His chef was a thin, wiry looking fellow, but he knew how to make the best club food anyone had ever tasted. He was also particular about who worked with him. But Monty could always use an extra hand or two and it would never hurt to try.

“I’ll let him know the next time I see him,” Steve said with a fond smile. “He’s also got a little brother in college, maybe have him apply too. Couldn’t hurt. What’s the least that’s going to happen, you say no? They won’t be any worse off for applying.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. He didn’t think that he would hire either of them if he was honest, but like Steve said, they wouldn’t be worse off for it. “So how was Creepy McCreepy?”

Steve bumped Eddie with his hip. “Henry Creel was fine. He’s just passing through, by the way, Mr. Worry Wort. I think he has bigger fish to fry then some high end exotic dancing club. Not that this place isn’t worth scalping, but I think he’s aiming for higher?”

“World domination?” Eddie teased, leaning into Steve space.

He laughed and nudged him away with his elbow. “Yeah, probably.”

~

Eddie ended up meeting with Steve’s friend because the guy needed consistent money coming in and while cleaning job paid okay, it really didn’t have many regular clients other than the club. Mostly they cleaned up after major sporting events, political conventions, stuff like that. And with their boss Murray always rotating the crew who cleaned the club, some weeks were good, others not so much.

Eddie had to admit that guy cleaned up really good. With his hair out of his face and wearing nice clothes, he wasn’t bad to look at.

“Jonathan Byers?” he said, rising to greet him from a table he had sectioned off for the interview.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking Eddie’s hand. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

Eddie smiled. “No problem. I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie pulled out three pages and spread them out in front of Jonathan. “There are three positions open right now, let’s see if you fit any one of them.”

He pointed to the first one. “This is for the busser position. Basically you go around after people have left to take away plates and glasses as well as pick up any tips. You’ll get a small portion of the tips but mostly it’s a flat rate of $15 an hour.”

Jonathan nodded.

“This one is for a cook’s assistant,” Eddie said tapping on the second one. “Often called a prep chef in bigger kitchens. Basically you’ll prepare everything for the chef and put it in the fridge for him to grab as he goes. You’ll get here at 4pm and leave at 8pm when the club opens. Pay is $22 an hour because it’s only four hours a day.”

Again Jonathan nodded. “That makes sense.”

“And finally the waiter position,” Eddie said. “This one in the highest paid, but also the most demanding. You’ll only have two days off a week and you’ll work from 8pm-2am. Base pay is $15 an hour, but you get a set amount of tips every night. Usually it’s percentage, but if it’s a rough night, you’ll see a base pay of $200 in tips for the night. You aren’t expected to pimp for tips as it were, as you aren’t the main attraction. You’ll be invisible for most of the time and some will even get mad at you for blocking their view of the show.”

“Wow,” Jonathan said. “That’s really fucking generous.”

“I try to be,” Eddie said cocking his head to side, “because living in this hellscape we call American Capitalism is hard enough without having to worry about not having enough money for shit.”

“Can I take these with me and then send over my resume for the position I’m most interested in applying for?” Jonathan asked, placing his hand over the a couple of the pages.

“Sure thing,” Eddie said. “I have copies on my computer. I’ll give you to the end of the week, otherwise I’m going to have to start looking elsewhere.” He stood up and Jonathan did the same.

“That’s fair,” Jonathan said, holding up the pages. “Thanks for this. Because you gave me a chance, even if I don’t end up working here.”

They shook hands.

“Let me walk you to your car,” Eddie said, waving his arm for Jonathan to go first.

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t have a car right now, my girlfriend is coming to pick me.”

“Then I’ll wait with you,” Eddie offered.

Jonathan considered it a moment and then shrugged. “Sure, man. Whatever.”

They walked out to the curb and chatted about Jonathan’s family and how his mom was doing. “My brother is going to be famous one day,” Jonathan said with pride. “He is such an amazing painter, his work should be hung galleries.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said with a smile. He knew that tone of voice. It was the same tone Wayne got when he talked about him. “So what did baby Jonathan Byers want to be when he grew up?”

“This is going to sound so weird,” Jonathan said with a smirk, “but a bug photographer. Not wild life in general. Bugs. Creepy crawlies. Insects and spiders. I loved that shit as a kid. I don’t know how many times I freaked out my mom by bringing in a new bug to take pictures of and then release back into the wild.”

“Young Eddie would have loved you,” he said softly. “I liked bugs and critters you aren’t supposed to go anywhere near. Raccoons, possums, squirrels. Baby Eddie loved them all. My mom,” he wagged his hand back and forth, “not so much.”

“There she is now,” Jonathan said jutting his chin at the red hatchback pulling into the parking lot.

Eddie pursed his lips and resolved not to say a damn word until she did.

And oh boy did she ever. She got out of the car and immediately started yelling at Jonathan.

“What on earth are you doing here?” she cried. “I thought you had an interview.”

Eddie tilted his head to side. “Not an interview yet, more like a fact finding mission. But I like him.” He grinned at her.

“I forbid you from working here!” she shrieked. “This is a den of sin! I have vowed to take it down.”

“Nancy,” Jonathan said warningly. “We’ve had this discussion. If I didn’t work at every place you found morally objectionable, I wouldn’t be able to work at all. I just need something stable until Will graduates and Mom can move around on her own again.”

“When you told me that Steve was working in this hive of iniquity ,” Nancy growled, “I made it my responsibility to shut it down once and for all. To save Steve, to save you from having to sweep the vile filth from its floors.”

“What?!” Jonathan cried. “I didn’t tell you Steve was working here to have you go on one of your crusades. I told you because Steve was a good friend when both of you were dancing ballet together.”

“It’s a sin!” she cried one more time.

“So is fornication,” Jonathan huffed. “And breaking and entering and a shit ton of other things you do that are supposedly okay as long as you do them.”

Nancy folded her arms and stomped her foot. “That’s not the same and you know it. They have actual fucking nights dedicated to a specific deadly sin. I may have broken a few laws in my time, but I would never stoop the depths of depravity that his club sinks to!”

“You continue with this vendetta,” Jonathan warned, “and I swear to God, we’re through. There is nothing wrong with what they do. So what if people see them naked. Don’t go see it. Your rights stop at their personhood. You can only dictate what you do and not anyone else.”

He turned to Eddie. “Can you take me home? I don’t think I want to be in the same car as her.”

“Sure thing, man,” he replied, thumbing behind him. “Just let me lock up and I’ll be right out.”

When he came back Nancy had gone and Jonathan looked like a kicked puppy.

“You ready to go?”

Jonathan nodded and without a word followed him to his car. After get the address and putting it into the GPS, Eddie said, “I’m sorry about how she acted. Has she done this sort of thing before?”

“When I first graduated high school I got a job at a photography studio,” he muttered. “I took pictures of babies and toddlers. I had this cute little pink rabbit that never failed to get a smile.” He cleared his throat. “She found out that in addition to family portraits, bridal and wedding photos, they also did boudoir photo shoots.”

“Oh no,” Eddie moaned, completely seeing where this was going.

“Yeah,” Jonathan said with a sniffle. “She got the place shut down when she found out that some official’s daughter got them for the guy she was sleeping with, who was not her fiancé.”

Eddie frowned. That sounded too familiar.

“Anyway,” Jonathan continued, “this bitch got the whole place shut down and suddenly I was without a job. If I ever find her, I think I’d like to strangle her with my bare hands.”

“Her named wouldn’t be Heather Holloway, would it? Mayor Kirk Holloway’s daughter?” Eddie asked running his tongue over his upper lip slowly.

Jonathan snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s the snake in the grass.”

Eddie pulled off to the side of the road and closed his eyes. “It’s a fucking scam. Holy shit! It’s a fucking scam.”

“What is?” Jonathan asked.

Eddie turned around. “I just figured the whole thing out. All of it. The attacks against Steve, Billy getting caught with his hands up the wrong skirt, Jason fucking Carver. I’ve got to give it to your girl, she is one smart manipulative bitch. But I’m smarter.”

~

Tag List:

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @gloomysoup @novelnovella @micheledawn1975 @garden-of-gay

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 6

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.6

“Good evening, Stanley.”

“...”

“I can see in lieu of speaking, you have instead chosen to communicate with an obscene hand gesture- two obscene hand gestures. I'll excuse your immaturity because I understand you might be feeling… upset.”

“Upset? Me? What could I possibly be upset about?”

“I understand your current state of… lodging is making you apprehensive. On account of being involuntarily committed.”

“You not picking up sarcasm doesn’t surprise me. And this isn’t an involuntary commitment; this is an unlawful abduction and confinement. I have enough experience with both to know the difference.”

“You what?”

“Ask me whatever stupid questions you’re about to ask, but I refuse to stand up. This is literally the first bed I’ve had since prison; and in that bed I had to worry about bed bugs, dirty needles, poisonous snakes… and Jorge.”

“What was that last thing that you just whispered to yourself?”

“Don’t worry about it. Now, what do you want, Doc? You here to scan me again? Get me to take more drugs? Ask me weirdly personal questions like your hot friend?”

“I want to talk. I may have come on a little strong when we crossed paths in town, in order for you to truly understand where I’m coming from, I’m going to have to give you some context in place of your lost memory.”

“Please tell me you’re not about to give me the tragic backstory of you and your missing twin.”

“Listen, Stanley, you don’t remember this; but we had a falling out ten years ago.”

“Aaand you’re doing it. Yeah, that’s pretty much what I was expecting. Fine, I’ll play along.”

“We were in our senior year of high school. You ruined a project of mine, and it cost me my dream college. We had a fight, and you got- you left home after that.”

“Man, dunno why I’d do something like that.”

“You were scared of me leaving you.”

“Did a shitty thing, and ended up alone anyways. That's something I'd expect from me.”

“And then you tried to justify it and say there was a silver lining-.”

“I’m sorry.”

“...What?”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“... Where’s your excuse?”

“Hm?”

“Your excuses- your reasons? You cannot just apologize- so casually.”

“Sure I can. I just did. You don't accept it, that’s your right."

“...You don’t mean that.”

“Naw, I’m pretty sure no one deserves to be betrayed. I’m sorry you were.”

“Saying sorry doesn’t make it okay.”

“Didn’t say it did. Nothing can- it’s already happened, and there’s no changing it. You don’t wanna forgive and forget? I won’t make you.”

“And you’re going to simply… move on?”

“Look, PhD, I can’t tell you why your real twin did what he did, or what was going through his head when he did it. But he did the wrong thing to the wrong person, and paid for it. It’s too bad you had to pay for it too.”

“You are-.”

“Can see why you’d get us mixed up though. All I do is ruin things, too. Maybe if that thing with your project hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be a wackjob who carries a tranq gun with him everywhere and abducts people off of the street.”

“I’m not mixing anything up. You are exactly who I keep trying to tell you that you are. You’re just not you right now.”

“I’m never anybody but me. You feel better now? Get all of that out of your system?”

“Now that I have told you what separated us-.”

“I’m gonna take that as a no.”

“Can you fill me in on the years that followed?”

“Doc, a lot of what I remember is like smoke - it’s hazy, and it’s hard to hold onto, can you be specific?”

“How about we start with something tangible?”

“Like what?”

“I am going to slip a paper and a pen through the slot in the door. Write down a list of the people who’ve tried to kill you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. You told my associate a number of alarming things during his interview with you, and he reported that a not insignificant number of those things revolved around people trying to kill you.”

“A lot of them still want me dead, you know. If they figured out where I was, they might raid this place. It’s not too late to just… let me go, and we can pretend none of this happened. I’m not gonna hold a grudge against you, it's clear to me you've got issues because your real twin is either dead or hiding in Cuba.”

“They can try. They’ll fail.”

"Gutsy. We coulda been friends if you weren't insane."

"...We were."

"If you say so."

To be continued...

[murmaiderii]

A BETTER WORLD CHAPTER 2: MABEL'S NONDENOMINATIONAL HOLIDAY BASH

NSFW, MDNI, also available on ao3

Dipper and Mabel's parents' names courtesy of @lomy-bloom

Ford packs the last of his shirts for his trip away. He was only planning on taking two outfits, one to sleep in and one to wear through the day. Odyssey, his girlfriend of just under a year, refused to let him wear the same unwashed outfit three days in a row. He insisted it was a more efficient use of space. She insisted that that was ridiculous. He looks at his girlfriend’s much larger suitcase on the bed and wonders how she can go through so many clothes in such a short trip.

“Honey, are you done packing?” Ford yells.

“One more thing!” She rushes into their shared bedroom and stuffs a toiletry bag in a suitcase pocket.

“I’ll pack up the car. Can you grab some snacks for us?”

“Gotcha.” Odyssey darts to the kitchen. Ford goes outside and drops their suitcases in the trunk. He waits for her in the driver’s seat. After a longer wait than he was expecting, she stumbles into the passenger seat and lets out a shuddering breath.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Ford takes her hand and rubs it with his thumb.

“Just… Jesus, I just know your family is gonna hate me,” she sighs. 

“That’s not true. Mabel and Dipper already like you,” he reassures her.

“Yeah, but they’re kids. It’s the adults I’m worried about. Everyone’s gonna accuse me of being a gold digger.”

“Let them think what they want. All that matters is what we think of each other.”

“They’re gonna call you a dirty old man, you know. People get super judgemental about age gaps.” Ford sighs.

“I admit, that has been on my mind. But we can’t hide from my family forever. Mabel would never forgive me if I missed one of her nondenominational holiday bashes.” Odyssey giggles at the name of the party. That niece of his sure has a flair for the dramatic. 

“Do we really have to stay at the house with everyone?”

“Mabel insists.”

“We won’t have any privacy. I dunno how I’m supposed to keep my hands off of you for three days,” she complains.

“We’ll just have to sneak out when we can,” Ford says with a blush.

“That’s kinda hot, actually. It’s like forbidden romance. Wanna get some practice fucking in the car before we go?” Ford chuckles.

“Odyssey, we’re already running late,” he reminds her.

“Fine, we’ll sneak out in the middle of the night. I guess let’s get this over with.” Ford gives her a kiss on the knuckles and starts the car for the seven hour drive.

“God, my ass is sore,” Odyssey complains. Ford parks on the crowded street outside of his nephew’s house. They get out of the car and unload their luggage. Despite her full bladder, Odyssey hesitates to go into the lively home. Ford puts a hand on the small of her back.

“Come on, honey. Stalling won’t make this any easier.” She groans and drops her head.

“Right, let’s rip the bandaid.” Ford slips his hand from her back to hold Odyssey’s. They approach the door. Ford squeezes Odyssey’s hand and knocks on the door. Ford and Odyssey are both relieved to be greeted by Mabel.

“Great uncle Ford!” She launches herself into Ford’s arms. He fondly laughs. “It’s been too long!”

“Good to see you again, Mabel. Now, I know you’ve been eager to meet Odyssey.” Mabel lets go of her uncle to give Odyssey a big hug.

“Heya, Mabel. Thanks for inviting me to your party,” Odyssey says. 

“Pfft, don’t mention it. I’ve been waiting my whole life to be able to invite one of Fordsy’s girlfriends.” Mabel leans into Odyssey’s ear to whisper. “There haven’t been any until now.”

“Mabel!” Ford whines.

“It’s okay, babe. She’s not telling me anything I didn’t know.”

“Wow, ‘babe.’ You guys are the cutest.” Mabel flicks her wrist and guides the couple inside. All sorts of family members whose identities Odyssey doesn’t know mingle through the house. 

“Uncle Ford, you’re finally here!” Mabel’s father, Ford’s nephew, walks through the foyer and gives his uncle a quick hug. “I see you brought your… friend.” Odyssey smiles awkwardly at her boyfriend’s nephew, who is more than a decade older than her.

“Nice to meet you…” She extends a hand for him. He curtly shakes it and proceeds to act like she isn’t there. Mabel kicks her dad in the shin.

“Dad, be nice,” she says through gritted teeth.

“I am being nice. Why don’t you take your great uncle’s friend to their room while I catch up with him.” Mabel rolls her eyes.

“His girlfriend , dad. She’s his girlfriend .” Mabel grabs Ford’s suitcase from him. “Follow me, Odyssey.” Mabel brings Odyssey to an upstairs bedroom. There are two blow up mattresses on the floor, along with an actual bed. “It’s a good thing you’re with Ford. It means you get an actual bed.”

“My boy is that much of a VIP, huh?”

“No, it’s because he’s old. All the older guests get actual beds,” she explains.

“Hah! Don’t tell him you said that. He’s already a little embarrassed to be dating someone so much younger.” Odyssey lines the suitcases up to the side of the bed. Sharing the room with several strangers is one of the top things she was dreading about this trip, but she’ll suck it up for Ford. She’s taking the side of the bed against the wall, though. “Now, onto the most pressing issue; where is the bathroom?”

“Down the hall and to the left,” Mabel instructs. “Hey, if anyone says anything all dumb and judgemental to you and my great uncle, just find me. I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Mabel. You’re a real one.” Odyssey and Mabel fistbump.

“You know it, dawg.” Mabel goes back downstairs to socialize while Odyssey uses the bathroom. The relief she feels in there is intense, not just because she’s needed to pee for an hour, but because this is the only room where she’s alone. She’s only met Mabel and Ford’s nephew so far, and she’s already worn out. If Mabel’s dad is a sign of things to come, she’s in for a very long vacation. At least with this many people around, no one will notice if she sneaks out to the car with her laptop a few times a day. She can lounge in the backseat and write up a short horror story about a family gathering when she needs a moment away.

When exiting the bathroom, her head kept down, she collides with another woman. “Crap! Sorry!” She apologizes. She looks up at the woman, who shares some features with Mabel, but not with Ford. “You, uh, must be Dipper and Mabel’s mom.”

“And you must be uncle Ford’s… friend…” She says with a sneer.

“His girlfriend, yeah,” she corrects. “I’m Odyssey.” She extends a hand. Mabel's mother shakes it in the same manner as her husband did. She knew the adults wouldn’t like her.

“Right, nice to meet you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Mabel’s mother goes into the bathroom, freeing Odyssey. Now she needs to find Ford and not leave his side all night. People might at least pretend to not be disgusted by her if he’s around. 

Downstairs, she finds her boyfriend talking with his nephew and great-nephew, who is the only person she’s excited to see other than Mabel. Dipper looks at his great uncle with an adorable adoration in his eyes. From what she’s heard, Dipper has always idolized Ford. Ford has confided in her that he feels guilty for not being able to see Dipper more, having rejected several invitations to family functions, as well as limiting visitation from Dipper and Mabel. He’s a busy man, sometimes not even having time for his own girlfriend, so it’s to be expected. That doesn’t mean he can’t feel bad about it.

“Odyssey! Hey!” Dipper walks up to Odyssey and gives her the first proper handshake she’s gotten tonight.

“‘Sup, Dipper!” She gives him a friendly smack on the arm. 

“Honey, Dipper was just asking me about my recent research on banshees. Odyssey is the one that edited the article you read.” She walks over to her boyfriend and wraps an arm around his waist.

“Reading that thing nigh on gave me a heart attack. Do you know what your crazy uncle had to do to get those banshee tonsils?” Odyssey asks Dipper. Dipper grins widely.

“What did he do? Tell me!” Dipper’s father clears his throat.

“I hope this story is appropriate for kids, Uncle Ford.” Dipper frowns at his dad’s killjoy attitude.

“Come on, dad, I know that his work is a little dangerous. Let me at least hear the story since he won’t let me go on expeditions with him anyway,” Dipper rants.

“It’s for your own good, my boy. I won’t even bring Odyssey out on most research trips, and she’s a grown woman,” Ford tells Dipper. Dipper’s father scoffs.

“Is she, though?” He says under his breath.

“Dad!” Dipper chastises his father for being rude.

“You know what, babe, why don’t we go get some food?” Odyssey drags Ford to the kitchen, gripping his side. She pours glasses of wine for her and her boyfriend and guzzles it down. Ford rubs her shoulder. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

“I’m sorry, dear. I wasn’t expecting him to be that bad.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” She rubs her temples. “I just needed to get out of there before I started getting mean in front of his kid.” Ford plants a kiss on her jaw. A few other people in the kitchen gawk at them. She takes another glass of wine and pops a piece of cheese in her mouth.

“You have exceptional judgment, my dear. You would have absolutely humiliated him if you ‘got mean’ with him.” Ford chuckles in her ear.

“It would’ve been a bloodbath. Why don’t I just… stay in our room before I do something rash? I’m sure your nephew won’t be the only one who has something to say to me.”

“I don’t want to be away from you. Let’s just grab a plate of brownies and sneak off somewhere until someone notices,” He suggests. She shakes her head.

“You should be spending time with your family. Mabel wouldn’t be happy if you hid away all night.”

“She wouldn’t want you hiding away, either.”

“She’d prefer it to me giving someone a verbal beatdown in the middle of her party. Go, socialize for a change. I’ll abscond with this bottle of wine and calm myself down enough that I might be able to play it nice tomorrow.” She gives him a quick peck on the lips and makes her way through the crowd. Ford sighs as he watches his girlfriend leave him to fend for himself tonight. Now it’s his sole responsibility to defend his relationship. Odyssey is certainly right that she can’t be unleashed when she’s mad. He’s still traumatized from the time he watched her dismantle the matriarch of the Northwest family for implying Ford was a cradle robber.

No one notices Odyssey’s absence, other than Ford and Dipper. Dipper is pretty understanding of Odyssey’s need for isolation. He would much rather be playing video games in his room than be passed around from distant family member to distant family member. He wanders into her room a couple of times with some snacks and some questions about the previously discussed banshee research.

“He should’ve been bed bound for a week after that, but the maniac refused to stay put for more than three days. He would’ve been back at work the day after if I hadn’t forced him back into bed.”

“I wish he’d let me come to help. I could’ve distracted the banshee before it hit him.” Dipper puffs out his chest. 

“I’m sure you would,” Odyssey giggles. “Don’t tell your parents I told you this, alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry they’re being such dicks to you. Don’t tell them I said dicks.”

“Our little secret,” she promises.

“Dipper! Come help me with the music!” Mabel shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

“Ugh, I gotta go before I blow both of our covers.” Dipper runs off, waving to Odyssey. At least she has a couple allies here. She sits back and relaxes until people start turning in.

“Baby, remind me I hid the empty wine bottle under the bed,” Odyssey whispers to Ford as he gets into bed. “I don’t need them thinking I have a drinking problem on top of everything else.

“Of course, dear.” Ford wraps his arm around Odyssey from behind and nuzzles his head into her back. They lie awake in bed, occasionally sneaking quick kisses, both stressing about the coming days. She could get away with hiding for one night, but she’s going to be expected to participate in the daytime events. One of the men staying in the same room starts snoring violently.

“Oh my god, that’s so bad,” Odyssey quietly cringes.

“It puts mine to shame.”

“Your snoring is cute. His is ear shattering. What the hell? How do you not wake yourself up with that?”

“Do you want to… sneak out to the car for a little while?” Ford asks, tracing circles in Odyssey’s skin.

“God, yes.” They get out from under the blanket and creep through the room, down the stairs, and out the door. No one seems to wake up. Ford unlocks the car as silently as possible, and they both slip into the backseat. Odyssey rubs her man’s upper thigh. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all night.” Ford pulls Odyssey into his lap. They share passionate kisses. Odyssey grinds into Ford’s lap.

“Ohh, my love. I missed you tonight,” Ford moans into her mouth. “All I could think about was joining you in bed.” Odyssey reaches down and tugs the waistband of Ford’s pants down enough for his dick to spring out. She contorts to pull her shorts and panties off. “My Odyssey…” He rubs circles into her clit.

“Yeah, Ford… god, you’re so good, baby.” She lifts herself up to sit on his dick, bringing erotic groans out of both of them. He grips her hips roughly. “Wanna savor the moment, but… not very comfortable in here. Gotta make this quick.” She rocks on his lap. He gives her those sad little whimpers of his that she loves so much.

“Won’t be a problem,” he pants. He erratically massages her clit as she bounces on him. He buries his face in her clothed breasts. “Yes… Odyssey… my—” He lets out a loud groan. “My beautiful Odyssey.” His fingers work faster, bringing her over the edge. She buries her face in his shoulder to muffle her screams as she comes.

“Ford!” She shouts into the fabric of his shirt. The force of her walls clenching around him brings him to his own orgasm. With a heavy grunt, he finishes inside her. They relax all of their muscles and sit in each other’s arms while they come down from their highs. “Tissue, tissue…” She feels around on the ground for the packet of tissues she always leaves there specifically for moments like this. She awkwardly maneuvers off of his dick and cleans up his semen.

“God, I really needed that.” She slips her panties and shorts back on. Ford lies down, resting his head in her lap. She snakes her fingers through his hair.

“So did I. Seeing my family… it’s always stressful.” He sighs heavily into her stomach. “You’re really getting along with Dipper, aren’t you.”

“He’s a great kid. They’re both great.”

“Yeah, they are,” he says quietly. Being around them must remind him of his own twin brother. Ford never spoke much of him. All that Odyssey knows is that he exists and they’re estranged. She never pushed him to reveal more. God knows she doesn’t want to talk about her family either. 

“The rest of your family I could do without. No offense,” she says in an attempt to lighten the mood. His chuckles vibrate through her stomach.

“I mostly stay in contact with them for the kids. I don’t think I saw any of them for years before the twins were born. I’m sure you’ve noticed why.”

“Yeah, I was ready to fight within minutes of meeting them. Still better than my family, though.” They bask in the comfort of each other for a few minutes, Odyssey gently stroking his gray hair and scratching his scalp. “I guess we should go back to bed.” Ford sits up and pulls Odyssey in for a romantic kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers into her mouth.

“I love you, too.” They stumble out of the car on numb legs and try to go back through the front door without alerting anyone.

“Is everything alright?” A female voice startles them both. It’s Dipper and Mabel’s mom, dressed in a pink robe, staring the two of them down. Luckily, Odyssey can lie on her feet.

“One of our roommates was snoring like a jackhammer. We needed to get away from the noise.” It’s a half truth.

“And what were you doing out there?” She scrutinizes Odyssey and Ford with her eyes.

“We just went for a little walk, Betty. I don’t know how we’re expected to sleep in the same room as whoever that is,” Ford says.

“That’s my cousin. I’ll see about changing the sleeping arrangements for tomorrow night.” They can tell she doesn’t believe them. “Do you need anything, or will you be going back to bed?”

“Back to bed. I think I’m tired enough now to sleep through the sound. Goodnight, um, Betty.” She takes Ford’s hand and drags him back to the room. The room hasn’t quieted down at all. “Aaand he’s still going,” she sighs. They crawl back into bed for a night of awful sleep.

[birdiebortnik]

[luveline]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

You and Spencer finally find time for your first time. 6k

fem, afab!reader, mostly confident!reader, foreplay, oral sex, p in v sex, lovey dovey tender loser sex, established relationship, pet names, aftercare, requested here <3

cw for smut, minors do not read or interact, 18+ content

˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗

“Can you stay still?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

Spencer climbs further toward you on the bed. “I’m trying to help. You’re no good at buttons.”

You’re no good at buttons because your fingers shake whenever you and Spencer get close like this, and with these intentions. You’d always thought he’d be the shy one —sometimes you take his hand in the back of the work car to watch his cheeks go a rosy, unignorable pink. He’s the more introverted of the two of you and he always has been, so why does his touch have you trembling already?

Excitement, you decide, heart in your mouth as his fingers begin to pop your buttons through each matching slit. This is exactly what happened last time you and Spencer tried (and were sorely interrupted). You’d been out of breath and in his lap, too excited to see to his buttons, too busy kissing him to take much notice as he’d taken care of them himself. And then work called, your plans were cancelled, and he’d promised you that you’d get to do this soon.

“I’m good at buttons,” you deny, leaning back on the palms of your hands as his pinky’s brush up, the sides of your shirt falling open.

“Oh, you’re back,” he says. He’s teasing in bed. You aren’t expecting it. “You went somewhere else for a few seconds, you okay?” That’s less teasing, more sweet.

His hands pause just under where your bra begins.

You take a breath. “I’m okay, I’m thinking about last time.”

He leans in for a kiss, a quick but steady catching that has your face following him as he pulls away again, and undoes your next button. “Which part?”

The part where he’d insisted you’d be laying down for this. The memory alone inspires heat, pleasure and wanting from the depth of your chest, your stomach, ever lower.

“Did you lock your door?” you ask.

Your phones are off. The door is locked. Spencer promises as much in your ear as leans in closer to you, crawls that last few inches of space to have your legs tangled atop his white sheets, his hand disappearing under the open sides of your shirt. The other hand works the last few buttons, but you don’t get to watch him do it, distracted by his fingers hot on the small of your back and his lips as he pulls you in tight for another kiss.

This one’s slow. He holds you like he’s worried you’re gonna slip out of his arm where it curls behind you, cool air kissing your chest as he gets the last button by your neck and encourages either side away from you. You lean into him and shake your shirt down the lengths of your arms, finally shirtless in front of him again after days of trying. You try to keep up with his kissing, he’s intense, he’s everywhere, but you run out of breath.

“Oh,” you say uselessly, your cheek against his as he kisses your jaw.

“What, angel?” he asks, breath warm to your skin, “What’s up?”

“Nothing… I wore my nice bra for you.”

“You did?” He promptly pulls away. His face is pinking, but it’s so warm you can’t blame him for it. You’re sure he’d feel a furnace under your skin if he touched your forehead. Spencer’s gaze falls down to your chest, where it stays, his own rising and falling with a noticeable sharpness. “That’s pretty. You’re pretty.” He swallows as he looks up. “Your nice bra? Just one?”

You cover a breast with your hand and push it up ever so slightly. “This is the one I thought you’d like most. You like blue.”

“I love blue. I love you, I love you,” he says, leaning around you to move your discarded shirt to the floor. “Can I take it off?”

You nod with a stupid smile. Fond and too eager. “Please.”

“How many tries do I get?” he asks, grabbing your sides in two gentle hands, pulling you forward into a hug as he reaches behind you for the clasp.

“You can do it one,” you promise, voice a murmur now he’s close to you.

You let your hands rest on his hips as he pinches the clasp and pushes it together. Like magic, it comes apart. Spencer holds the unclasped sides to your naked back for a few seconds, his breath loud in your ear, before he sits back to look at you.

You push the straps of your bra down, let the support of your bra fall away. You ball it up in your lap, sitting there bare-chested and smiling, waiting, hoping you’re as beautiful to him as he’s always made you feel.

His hand climbs your arm. “You’re beautiful,” he says, “can I–”

“Yeah, please. Please.”

His thumb rubs a short line from your navel to the skin just below your breast. Your chest feels suddenly heavy, the half-lidded set of his eyes on you like a weight, but it’s one you realise you like as he rubs the indent of your bra. “You’re so pretty,” he says, his thumb pressing into the underside of your breast, kind but undeniably there, and your body reacts to his touch, which is another thing. He doesn’t coo, but it’s close. “How does that feel?” he asks quietly, drawing under your nipple with his thumb.

“Can you kiss me some more?” you ask, breathless in a way that’s almost painful.

Spencer clutches you by your sides, unafraid to play with you, pressing you down into the bed as his hands traverse up. You shuffle back into the pillows and let your eyes shutter closed, his nose pressing hard into yours as your lips meet again. He kisses hungrily. He’s treated you to a few heavy kisses in the past, nothing compares now to the open crescent of his lips and the feeling of his hands. His tongue is hot where it touches your lips, wading in. You sigh into his mouth and feel his own sigh in return as he breaks it.

“Fuck,” he says, his breath coloured by pleasure. He’s practically moaning in your ear as a big hand squeezes your chest.

You can’t take this. You lift your hips and graze against him, rushing to reach down and slip your skirt over the curve of your ass and over stocking clad thighs. You try to push them along at the same time, breathing hard.

Spencer notices what you’re doing and reaches to help.

“Your shirt,” you argue, faces close, his confusion an inch away, as are his pinked lips, “take your shirt off, Spencer, I can do this myself.”

“But why should you have to?” he says, though he listens, making quick work of his button up.

You kick your stockings off of your feet and lay there, warm, overwhelmed but desperate at once, watching him on his knees as he manages his last button and peels out of his shirt. You cross your legs tightly against the achy heat blooming in your cunt, uncharacteristically shy.

His chest is pale, without a freckle nor beauty mark, but he’s shapely. You've kissed him so much these last few months, traced the hills and rigid muscle of his front with an adoring hand under his clothes, but the two of you being similarly bared is different.

It’s worse when he reaches for the button of his slacks.

You bite your lip. “Spencer, can I do it?”

“Yeah.” He swallows again. “Of course you can. Don’t ask me.”

He’s getting warm, curls of his hair falling into his eyes, his breath a constant huff. The bulge of him through his slacks draws your attention. You crawl toward him where he’s kneeling, checking his face. When he nods, you rub the very pad of your thumb against the line of his cock, feel it jump at your touch. Your heart jumps in a similar place.

“This okay?” you whisper, your touch light enough that you’re surprised he can feel it.

“Please.” He says your name like you’ve hurt him. “Please. Take them off.”

“I can’t believe you’re like that just from kissing me,” you say sincerely, a mumble as you pop the button and dig your fingertip under the zipper, which you pull down in one smooth line. There’s an immediate release of pressure against his cock. You blink. It’s so warm in here. “Spence, can I–”

“Please.”

You nod to yourself and shift onto one elbow, shocked and even warmer when Spencer plumps a pillow behind you. Your anticipation is an ache that won’t ebb, hands trembling again as you pull the band of his pants down his hips and expose a pair of white and blue boxer briefs. A darkened patch of material rests against the tip of his cock, the curve of him ever harder as you touch him.

He sucks in air through his teeth.

“Aw, Spence,” you say, pressing the length of your thumb to his cock and breathing out as you ride the curve of him up to that wet spot. “Sweetheart… Does that feel good?”

He closes his hand on top of yours and holds you there. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“I think I gotta kiss you first,” you say, eyes on his straining boxers. “Think you might need one.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’ll ruin everything before we’ve even started, you can’t kiss me like that.”

“Are you sure? I can make sure you’re ready.”

You’d never force him into anything. You’re letting him know it’s alright. You’re not gonna push him over the edge before he’s done, you just wanna do all the stuff with him that you’ve been dreaming about for a while now. You have a feeling he might enjoy it.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you need me to,” you say softly, feeling his cock twitch in your hand at the mere sound of your voice. “I wanna see you.”

He laughs infectiously, almost drunkenly, the two of you giggling as he shifts your hands. He doesn’t say anything more, only moves your hands down over the softer base of his cock to encourage his pants out of the way, and then his boxers.

His cock is pretty like he is as he pulls it out. You knew it would be. A little taller than your hand, he tugs it toward his stomach and you watch in delight as a string of precum catches the light, wetting his palm.

You’re patient. He lets it stand without help and you curl your hand where his had been at the base, his cock shining in lines, that welling of precum spread messily around and worse when you give a soft pump. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, shuffling closer to you on his knees, his hand leaping to your shoulder. “Oh, god.”

You tilt your head. “How’s that, baby?”

“Please, angel.”

You lean in for a kiss.

Just a kiss, but your lips part, your spit ready on your tongue and slick in a heavy line up the side of his cock. All you can think of in that moment is how much you want him, how gentle his hand is on your shoulder despite the wounded little breath he lets out, and the stickying feeling of wetness that grows between your thighs, your underwear damp at the very centre and clinging to you as you crawl as close to his front as you can get. You kiss and kiss up the side of him, not silly enough to love on his most sensitive skin at the head, not after his warning, though the idea of his cock shuddering against your lips and tongue makes you squeeze your eyes closed.

You kiss shy of his tip and tilt your head back to look at him. He’s already watching you, squinting with a palpable agony.

“Are you okay? Is that alright?” you ask, loosening your grip on his cock to draw a loving, sweet line down, and down.

He catches your wrist. “You can’t do that again,” he warns gently, hint of a smile in his eyes. You beam at him adoringly. “Lay back? There’s something in my way.”

“In your way,” you murmur through a smile, laying back in the pillows as he’s asked you.

Spencer sheds his slacks and boxers. You pull your legs up to give him room to kneel on the bed by your legs, pulse like a constant humming ache against your cunt as he takes your calves into his hands and presses your knees together. “You’re not gonna say please like I did, are you?” he asks.

“Do you need me to?” you ask, teasing him with your own hand, letting it travel from the base of your throat and over a tightened breast to your stomach, then your underwear. You flick the waistband. His eyelashes flare. “I can say please, Spence, I’d love to say please for you. Is that what you want me to do?”

“I don’t ever want you to say please, you know that.” He encourages one leg flat to the bed. The other, he pushes up, fabric of your underwear tight to your warm cunt and heartbeat surely taking up station in your throat. “Maybe I can say please.” His hand coasts down your thigh. “Would you like that?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t say please, or don’t touch you?” he asks, stopping his squeezing.

“Spencer!” you laugh, moving your hips ever so slightly, raising them in hopes of his understanding. “This is cruel, I didn’t tease you.”

“You’re nice,” he says, again pressing your leg up toward your stomach, eyes on the bump of your cunt as he begins to lean down. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a surprising kiss to your soft inner thigh. “So perfect.” Closer now, nose skirting toward the elastic of your underwear. “Please, can I?”

You press your shaky hand to your lips, palm out. “Please,” you say into your skin. “Yeah. Yes, you can. Can you?”

A kiss to the skin beside your cunt, his free hand riding up to squeeze the bump of it, his thumb pressing against wet heat, your breath caught. He rubs a line up from the wet to your clit, and he smiles when he finds it, though that smile is swiftly overtaken by parting lips as he kisses a mixture of skin and fabric and starts to suck. You hiccup at the feeling.

“You sound cute when you’re happy,” he says into your thigh. He turns his head slowly, looking up at you, his thumb rubbing almost absentmindedly at the sensitive little hood of your clit, your nerves all over the place. He’s giving you the puppy eyes, big and brown and in sickly love with you.

“Happy’s not the right word,” you breathe out.

“I should fix that, right?”

Your stomach does a hard flip. “Yeah.”

Spencer isn’t as timid about it as you’d imagined he’d be, his reality better than any fantasy, his hands kind but quick where twists his fingers into the waistband of your underwear as he begins pulling them down.

He lets out a long breath as the air kisses your cunt, his eyes trained obviously on one spot in particular as he takes your panties all the way to your feet. He rolls one leg off, leaves the other hanging at your ankle as he grabs the soft underside of your knee and encourages your leg up.

You can feel your cunt spread, feel the wetness that had been growing dribble from you. “Ah,” you say, more breath than word while he holds your leg in place. “Spencer–”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no, I just need you to touch me, please, I–”

He says your name, says, “Hey, don’t talk like that, I’ve got you, I’m gonna touch you, just needed to know you’re okay–”

“Spencer–” you squirm with wanting.

“I know,” he says, the tip of his cock turned impossibly red where it’s resting against the heaving of his abs, “trust me.”

He reaches for your abdomen, his palm resting lovingly on the pudge of your tummy. You squirm for it lower. “If you think I’m not gonna give you everything you want, you're crazy. When don’t you get your way?” He leans down, and to your relief, your little gasp of breath, he kisses your naked cunt. “When don’t I want to give it to you?” he asks into your skin.

Every word he says is heat and movement against the nerves that make up your clit. You practically shiver as he lets his lips part against you and kisses all over, unafraid to feel every little bit of you, his tongue pressed wet and flat your softest parts. You spread your legs in anticipation of him, his thank you a kiss that lights up every nerve ending you have that stems from your hips, the breath racing out of you and moans not far behind. He rubs the length of your leg, his fingers trailing towards his kissing. The hand that isn’t up to something just loves on your skin. The hand that is pauses shy of your cunt’s wet hole —you can’t help letting out a choked moan as he sucks on your clit and the skin around it, sudden, the feeling of hot slick dripping from you worse as he pulls away with a quiet pop.

His lips shine in the lamplight. “I’m gonna start getting you ready, okay?” he asks, a small smile somewhere in the midst of a gaze that’s otherwise laden with lust. His fingertips tease your entrance. “What do you think, angel, can I do that?”

You might need a kiss to get through it. You can’t decide whether you want him to keep eating you out like that, like you’re water to the famished, like he’s worried he’s not quick enough to get every bit of you where he wants it, but you’re so desperate to be fucked by him that you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. “Spencer, you need to kiss me,” you decide.

“I am–”

“No, come here. Need you on top of me. You can get me ready,” you agree, eyes peculiarly damp, “but I really wanna kiss you right now, baby, please, please–”

He’s on top of you by your second please. You gasp at the rigidity of his cock pressing to your cunt and find it lost in his mouth, his fingertips wet with sex pressed to the side of your face. He remembers himself, kisses all the same but hand moving down again, turning his weight onto the bed and off of you as he feels at your cunt. His fingers slide through hair and wetness alike to tease at your cunt. You can feel wet on his fingers as he pushes in just a centimetre, again on his thumb when he circles your heat carefully, and all the while he’s kissing you like he’s been starved of you. He’s saying angel and so pretty against your stinging mouth.

It’s strange when he pushes two fingers in, but not bad. You’ve never done this with one another, and it takes him a few careful thrusts of his fingers to figure out where he should be directing his motion, and what to do to make you happy. You nod into his mouth as he finds a sweet spot and presses into it, quirked fingers quick to the very last knuckle, his pinky and index fingers sliding without resistance against the wet mess on either side of your cunt. “There?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, pulling his face closer to yours, your hands twined deep in his hair.

He digs around against your walls, to your abject joy and something else, some emotion you can’t name, the want to be touched everywhere by him, to be the kind of full of him where you can’t breathe.

He presses his fingers inside you, undulating against the gum of your walls, and groans into your lips as you pull in a shivery breath. His hips jerk hard, his cock sliding against your stomach hot as a brand.

Spencer pulls up. You’re in the throes of one another, but his eyes are clear. “How do you want it?” he asks tenderly. “Can I stay here, or should I move back?”

“Just to start, it’s always tight–” You catch your breath now he’s paused, stroking curls away from his flushed cheeks. “I’ll sit up a little and you can still hold my hand,” —he doesn’t question this even for a second— “just so you can see what you’re doing, and then–”

“It’s okay, we can work it out,” he interrupts. “I’m not gonna rush and hurt you.”

“I didn’t think you would,” you whisper, cupping his face in your hand.

He ducks in for a slow, chaste kiss.

“I know you didn’t,” Spencer says. He takes another kiss, pressing one to the top of your chin.

Then he’s shuffling backwards and off of you, and he’s grabbing your hips, lifting you up as he positions himself at your cunt. You shuffle back in the opposite direction to wedge yourself firmly in his pillows, knees up and heels either side of his lap as he moves in. His cock rubs against your cunt by accident, then quickly again with a deliberateness, like he’d felt you and couldn’t help himself.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he says. His eyebrows pinch together in a glare, his thumb pressing to your clit. There’s no purchase there anymore, your wetness having made its way up, but he rubs it nonetheless. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You grab his hand. Twine your fingers into his. “I love you, Spence,” you say easily. “Don’t be shy.”

He’s giving you that Can’t believe I’m with you look that he often does. It reminds you of the first time you met when you’d called him beautiful without knowing he’d mean this much to you one day, because he really was gorgeous, everything you’d ever want in a guy and lovelier after. You flirted your way into being his friend, and one day your hand-holding was hugging, your friendly cheek kissing turned to lazy hickeys, and he’s still giving you that look. Like he doesn’t deserve you. Like you’re gonna disappear.

You reach between your centre and his to nudge his hand down, guiding him into place. “Say you love me,” you request in a murmur.

“I love you,” he says, head of his cock against your opening. He abandons your clit, to your disappointment, but he’s grabbing the rump of your ass and hip to hold you in place.

He is achingly, achingly slow. He’s so gentle with his thrusts that you feel like you could love him twice as much as when you started, his wrinkled brow, his eyes flitting between your face and the stretch of your cunt to check on you as he goes. He reaches a natural resistance, nothing he couldn’t push past if he didn’t want to, but he doesn’t have to —he’s not fully sheathed and yet you’re aflame with pleasure. He’s at just the right angle. All he needs to do is move.

“There?” he asks softly,

“Please, right there.”

He pushes forward and a breath leaves his lips like you stole it. “You’re tight,” he says, “I knew you would be at first, but I didn’t expect– do I need to stop?”

“No, no, that’s the best part…” You close your eyes. If he weren’t holding your hand you’d cover your face. “Spence, it’s supposed to feel like this, baby. You just find the way you like it and I’ll tell you if it’s not right.”

“Promise?”

“Promise– oh.”

The fronts of his thighs press to yours, his cock flush to your walls and digging into something sweet and sensitive enough to make your thighs shake. Good luck, you think, for the two of you to fit together like this, for his cock to fill you without hurting or leaving you wanting, even though he’s just a little over half inside. He goes slow, almost repetitive, his thumb drawing dedicated half circles into the back of your hand where he’s securing it to your hip. Breathe, you think, I have to breathe. There’s nobody here but Spencer. You can show him exactly how this is making you feel.

“Fuck,” you say, letting out a little moan, worried it won’t be something he likes.

“Fuck,” he echoes emphatically, “does that feel good, angel?”

“Uh-huh,” you say. His chest shines with sweat, his cock driving in, all his touching and adoring drawing a litany of your most vulnerable sounds, hiccups and whimpers, beggy breaths that plead for him to do exactly what he’s doing until he can’t.

“Can you keep your leg up?” he asks.

“What?”

“Can you lift your leg, angel? I need my hand.”

You nod hurriedly and hold your leg aloft as he’d been, not pretzeled but giving him the room he needs to drive forward. He’s swift in his intention, pressing his free hand to your cunt, unabashed, marriage and middle finger slippery against the head of your clit and drawing precise circles. After a few timid thrusts of his hips, he matches speed. Every thrust met with a circle of your clit, his face dipping down to kiss your leg.

“There,” he says to your knee, “I got you, I’ll get you there.”

“I don’t wanna cum yet,” you confess.

“No, I know, but you have to feel good, I need to touch my girl.”

You don’t want to argue with that. He’s never said something like that.

He goes on. “You’re so pretty, I don’t know– I don’t–” He gives a tight smile, “don’t think you know how beautiful you are, you feel–” He moans, then, like he’s pleading.

You don’t expect to be close this soon. It had to be the way he’s talking to you, or his lazy mouthing at your cunt before you’d started. “Wait! Wait, Spence, don’t,” —you grab his hand to stop him from drawing anymore circles— “I have to do it, or I’m gonna cum already.”

He says fuck, thrusts in just a little deeper than he had been, head of his cock kissing just the right place, “Show me how to do it the way you need it.”

You play on the edge of your orgasm for long, long minutes, your hand over Spencer’s drawing the smallest of circles, your nerves aching, the pressure of it like his hands pressed to your tummy. Spencer fucks you, fucks into you, ruts into you when you give him a flirty smile, angling his hips a touch to the side.

You usher him down to you, craning your head up to his. “Can I have a kiss?” you ask with a voice stretched to gossamer. You’re in love with him and you could cry for it as he fucks you, but you try not to. Not yet.

Spencer licks his lips. “You can have everything.”

He slows his thrusts to a drag. Slow drag out, full push in. His hips press to yours and you squeak as he fills you with every inch he has, his hands vying for your clammy face.

He can only thrust slowly from there, though it feels like it’s hitting somewhere new, if not deeper. Shifts of his hips against yours, a mess of slick between you and the friction of his skin. You kiss and pant into each others mouths, spit stretching like a string from his lip to yours that he promptly kisses away. It’s everything you needed it to be, and you can’t hold off much longer. “Wanna cum,” you tell him, stroking the skin under his eye, his gaze aligned with yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can you– like before–”

Spencer understands. He sits back, drags you by the hips onto his cock, and set about fucking that dedicated pace, three fingers pressed to your clit. He goes as slowly as you showed him at first, and that in time with his thrusts sends a pleasure through you that makes you gasp. He speeds his hips at the same time as his fingers, your skin so wet that it requires dedication to wind the coil, but he does wind it, over and over and over again until your walls are rigid tight and your hips are working desperately to chase the feeling. He’s pushing you to the edge.

You cum, and your breath gets caught. You force out a breath and you keen in the feeling, covering your face with both hands as Spencer pushes you through it with a few last teasing circles and a couple of quick thrusts.

Spencer knows without asking to slow as you come down. You laugh into your hands.

He doesn’t quibble when you let your legs fall flat around him, only strokes your thigh, paused half inside of you to offer you one of his shy smiles. “You even sound pretty,” he says.

“You think so?”

“Of course I do.”

He takes a measured thrust. He’s not not confident these days, but you can see the man you adore now between your legs, in love with you but not sure what to do. “You can keep going, baby.”

“You sure?” he asks.

It’s gonna be intense, but you want that. “Come back,” you say, angling your tired legs around him. “Come lay on top of me… Please.”

It’ll be nice to hug him now. You whine as his cock slips out of you and again as he lays atop you and slides it back in, your cunt waiting for him and slick as anything as he settles.

“Is this too much?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

He rolls his hips demonstratively. You didn’t know there was anything left there to give him, but he can have it.

You wrap your arms around him, your forearms to the line of sweat on his back, and give him a hard hug. “You can have everything,” you utter, repeating his earlier promise to him with the same encapsulating love as you cling. “Fuck me however you want.”

When it starts again, chills ride up your spine. Spencer finds a place you didn’t know you had and fucks against it with love, so deep you feel like you can’t breathe, his nose rubbing harshly into your cheek. He squeezes your shoulders tight in his arms and you’re sure you’ll never catch your breath again, and you don’t want him to stop. You’ve never felt this close to him.

Your naked chest rises uselessly beneath him as you fall into the whining, pleading bit of sex, your moans half gasp and lost in his hair as he burrows his face into the pillow by your head to hide his same desperation.

“There you are,” he mumbles, hips grinding into yours. He must say your name ten times in a row, each one more frayed than the last, until he’s lost it completely.

“Go faster, sweetheart,” you suggest, squeezing his hips between your thighs.

Spencer begins again in earnest, nipping crescent moons into the curve of your neck, thrusting fast until he can’t. You hear him trip into cumming like it’s an accident, his thighs go all tense and his cock throbs as he presses you flat, flat to the bed.

He gives a last few greedy thrusts before he calms, though he doesn’t stop moving. Spencer rolls his hips for a slow, languishing minute.

His hand finds your shoulder. His face turns to yours as you turn yours to his, two halves of a good kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper.

He’s panting, but his reciprocation is immediate. “I love you more.”

“No, you don’t.”

Spencer lifts himself up enough to wrap his arms behind your head, almost framing your head where you’re laid underneath him. “Trust me, I do.” His eyes shutter. You close your own in wait of another kiss, but he’s sliding the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own. He draws a circle, draws soft lines over your cheek in zigzags.

“Tell me what to do now,” he murmurs.

You scratch his back lightly. “Aw, Spencer, just keep doing this.”

—

Spencer cleans you up and you finally cry, a couple of tears you’re hoping he won’t notice as he drops the towel on your leg. He holds you with his hand behind your back and murmurs words too nice for such silly tears into your cheek, before asking, scared, if he’d hurt you.

“No, no, it’s like the most intense relief in the world!” you tell him, selfishly basking in the muscle of arms where they’re wrapped around you, and his silky hair whispering over your ear. “I feel amazing.”

“I didn’t think you’d be one of the women who cry afterward,” he says. He’s not judging you, simply sharing an observation. It makes sense. You’re not usually emotional in such an unconstrained way.

“I’m really happy.” You pinch his chin mildly.

“Your legs are hurting.”

You let him go. “Yeah, a bit. It’s a nice hurting. Like we went for a really long walk.”

He takes your face into both hands and tips your head back. You’re slouched forward, he’s straight-backed, and he’s taller where he’s grinning at you. His hand comes to rest against one of your breasts, giving it a little cup before he presses it flat over your heart. “I thought you were never gonna calm down.”

“You have that effect on people.”

“Maybe that’s true for you,” he says, tapping your nose with his, encouraging you to lift your chin. “But only one person’s ever made me lose my breath like that,” he adds, your lips touching, not kissing.

You could keep him forever. “Think we should turn our phones back on?” you ask.

“When I’ve made you something to drink, sure. And found you something to wear, right? It’s too cold.”

You’re still hot enough to cook an egg, but you let him take care of you. It’s as good as being fucked, being adored when it’s done. He gives you underwear first, a soft tank top and a pair of panties you’d left here before and he’d washed and pressed, your sweetheart. You’re surprised he doesn’t help you into them, but you notice with fond bemusement that he’s cringing as he steps into a fresh pair of boxers.

“You okay, handsome? Did you tweak something?”

He’s in pants before you realise, standing shirtless with sex-tousled hair. You could ask him back to bed if you weren’t exhausted. “I’m not in shape.”

“I could say otherwise.”

Spencer’s on top of you again in an instant. He sits on your naked leg and pulls down your rising tank top before twinging your hands in his. He’s practically in your lap as he kisses your chin. It’s that earnest you end up giggling, lovestruck, two idiots holding hands. He steals a couple of lazy kisses. You can’t remember how many you’ve had anymore.

“You’re contrary,” he says as he pulls away.

“Can’t you be nice to me? You were acting so nice.”

He slides off of your leg. “You’re my best friend. I hope we’re this happy for the rest of our lives.”

You fist your hand in the rumpled sheets behind you. He’s apparently unaware he’s said the most special thing he could’ve, opening his closet door to retrieve your pyjamas from the shelf he dedicated to you the first time you slept over. You are best friends, is the best part. He’s not exaggerating.

Before he’d ever kissed you, you were in love. You’ve been in love for years.

Spencer drops your pyjamas next to you on the bed. “You want me to help you put them on?”

You have no reason to need help tonight, but you want it. “Yes, please. Can you rub my back after?”

“Yesss. I’d love to rub your back. If we maintain our physical connection after sex, it enhances the relaxing factor but it also prolongs the effect of the oxytocin and dopamine your brain would’ve released when we were–” He picks up your sleep shirt and shakes it out. “Well, you know.”

“Any more sex facts for me?”

Spencer has the nerve to blush, considering the way he’d spoken to you only ten minutes ago. “An orgasm as a woman can lower your risk of heart disease, breast cancer, and depression.”

You smile at him sweetly. “No kidding. How much to get that risk down to zero?”

He kisses your cheek. “You know that’s not how it works.”

“We can still try.”

“Um. Can I have a banana first?”

“I’m kidding!”

“Oh.” He gestures for you to put your arms into the sleep shirt. “Well, maybe you can have a banana too and we’ll see how we feel.”

˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗

Thank you for reading!!!!! I hope you enjoyed it! please reblog or let me know what you thought if you have the time, but I hope you enjoyed regardless!

[meiieiri]

when do we get to see megumi in your new series ^3^

𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 ! [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: “you really are your mother’s son,” toji grumbles to megumi as the little brat yet again refuses another kiss from him.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | art: @/amulin67 on twt/ig | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: n/a | a/n: finally welcoming megumi to this series, yay! 💓💞

“I’m just gonna go nap for a bit. Promise me you’ll wake me up if something happens. But either way, his bottle is over there, just heat it up when he gets hungry and you know where his diapers are—“

You are interrupted by a sweet kiss that still manages to catch you off guard ‘till this day.

“I wasn’t done, you know.” You place your hands on your hips, shooting him a warning glance. “And don’t you go tossing him too high. Need I remind you, our apartment has a literal ceiling fan—“

“—You worry too much,” Toji cuts you off again with another kiss. “Not gonna lie though, seeing you all worked up like that is kinda turning me on.”

“You’re horrible,” you conclude. Honestly, at this point, almost anything and everything you do can be classified as a thirst trap for Toji. You blush when Toji inches closer, his hips pressed against yours, a smirk plastered on his face when he sneakily squeezes your ass causing you to yelp. “Ah! Toji!” you swat his hand away, burying your blushing face in his chest.

Chuckling at you, he plants a soft kiss on your temple as he pulls away. “Alright, mama, go get some rest. I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Thank you.”

No one ever told you that motherhood would be so stressful. Which is why you’re so blessed to have a supportive husband who may have started out a little awkward with caring for your newborn son but gradually became a natural with this whole fatherhood business as time went by. And that’s mostly because when Megumi arrived in this world at half past two in the afternoon of December 22 with nothing more but a small hiccup as he slipped into his papa’s waiting arms, Toji fell in love. And you don’t pretend to not know why. Because whenever you look at Megumi, your heart always just seems to melt at his pudgy rose-colored cheeks and his deep expressive green eyes that fill up with tears regardless if he’s crying or being overcome by a laughing fit whenever you pepper his tiny face with kisses.

Speaking of kisses, today’s latest fiasco is centered exactly on that: kisses.

You see, you have this habit that goes way back to when you and Toji first started dating. Toji remembers it well, you have certain moods when it comes to kisses. Sometimes, you’re the one initiating it which mostly results in Toji becoming an incoherent blushing mess, or most times, Toji gets the party started by slowly kissing up your neck, his breath hot on your earlobe as he presses his hips against yours while you slept fitfully, your hushed dulcet whines ringing in his ear as your lips instinctively find each other. Fun fact: that’s exactly how Megumi came to be.

But there are times too, when you were just not having it and you’d gently nudge Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you.

It was a typical afternoon. Toji didn’t have work that day which was a huge relief for him because you’ve been suffering from dizziness and lower back pain all day. And being the helicopter partner and soon-to-be papa that he is, Toji keeps a close eye on you as you nap the afternoon away on the couch. He smiles softly as he sees you instinctively put a protective hand over your belly whenever you’d feel the slightest movements from the baby.

“Shhh, you’re alright,” he’d whisper to you as you slept, combing his fingers through your hair, a permanent worried frown on his face when a whimper falling from your pursed lips as the baby kicks you again. “It’s just the overgrown parasite fidgeting around.”

“Don’t call him that.” You brush his hand away, your eyebrows knitting in discomfort.

Toji chuckles, going to press a kiss to your soft lips only for you to place your entire palm on his face, applying gentle force to pry him away. “I mean, what is he then? Other than this thing that competes for your nutrients? He’s—“

“—Our baby boy.”

“—An overgrown parasite.”

Fuming at his words, you decide to hit back with a quick retort of your own. “Yeah? It really does take one to know one, huh?”

“What a cute comeback but maybe not as cute as you,” Toji smirks, his hand gently removing your smaller one from his face, his lips puckered up as he leans in. Teasingly, you place a hand over your lips, still refusing to indulge him with his much-craved kisses. “Come on, I just want one sloppy one~”

“No!” Your laughter-filled voice comes out muffled against your palm.

“Mm, yes,” Toji teases. “Yes. Come on, baby, just one.”

“You and I both know it’s never just one.”

Of course. Why else would you be in this situation if Toji knew how to spell the words: self and control? Still, it’s not like the two of you were complaining. After all, the bond you and Toji share is an unbreakable one that’s only been strengthened by time and the many trials you’ve survived together. And now, the arrival of the very product of your love is only a hair’s breath away. Toji rests his chin on top of your head, plopping down next to you and spooning you from behind. “Guilty as charged.”

And unfortunately, it seemed your son had inherited that troublesome quirk of yours and it’s beginning to break Toji’s infuriated heart because whenever he tries to give Megumi a kiss…

“Mmph—“

There it was.

Toji’s eyes shot open, grimacing as Megumi turns his head away, his eyes trained stubbornly on his dog plushie, and his chubby hands pushing his poor papa’s chin away with all the might a six-month-old like him could muster. And to top things off, he must be imagining things because newborns surely couldn’t scowl right? Their tiny little brains couldn’t possibly have enough electrical energy to charge a snow globe much less, learn how to hate certain people’s kisses.

“You little shit—“

Sure enough, the tiny little baby seems gravely unamused, his eyebrows are knitted, the corner of his lips curled into a disappointed frown as if to say: Go kiss someone else, you even bigger shit.

Toji mirrors the unfriendly scowl on his son’s face, noting how Megumi seems to be glaring at him. Oh, okay. The brat ain’t messing around, his eyes twitches but somehow, Toji is also a picture of a proud father. At least the little shit’s got spunk. And he wonders momentarily who he should blame for that.

Definitely not him, that’s for sure.

Toji doesn’t recall the last time he’s ever had the comforts of a peace like this one. Actually, this might just be the first time that Toji knew what that word meant: “peace”. A freedom from disturbance; tranquility, as per the Merriam Webster Dictionary. But Toji has a better definition for peace: you and Megumi.

But…

“I meant what I said to your mother though,” Toji engages in a one-way conversation with his son. He won’t recall any of this, but it didn’t hurt for Toji to be candid about his feelings every now and then especially when it came to this little one that came accidentally into your lives but brightened it up nonetheless. “The two of you would be better off — maybe even happier — with someone else.” He presses his thumb against Megumi’s cheek. “It’s what you two deserve.”

He’s been gone close to a whole day now and you were probably beginning to worry. Out of all the shitty things Toji has done, this, by far, has to be the shittiest. Standing outside a pachinko den, his back pressed against the wall, and his hand absentmindedly playing with the tokens he just bought. When he left the apartment that day, you knew that could very well be the last time you ever see him. Types like him aren’t keen on the whole picket fence idea of settling down.

“I’m heading out today.”

Your blood runs cold when Toji steps into the kitchen to inform you of his plans. You don’t even bother to look at him, your gaze simply settled on the positive pregnancy test on the table. The right thing to do was to stay, he should have held you in his arms and tell you that everything’s going to be okay not plant seeds of doubt in your mind by taking off and running away like a coward.

But for once, Toji was scared.

He had no business becoming a father when he’s lived in a dysfunctional household for majority of his life. What good would he even impart to his child? His pathetic existence has been a picture of disorder that was only recently resolved when you came into the picture. Well, if he were being completely honest, he still hasn’t figured things out quite as well yet. And as a father, that could be catastrophic for a child that required stability if nothing else.

Frowning, Toji leaves the pachinko den, chucking the tokens in the trash. It was far too early in the day to be hanging around shady places like these anyway. He wanders the streets for a good while, his hands buried in his jacket’s pockets as his mind swirls with thoughts about the all too terrifying future.

A pang of guilt strikes his heart and he wonders what you’re doing now. You must still be in the kitchen, your face buried in your hands as you try to think of something. You were probably assuming he wasn’t coming back. After all, you did say: “I don’t wanna pressure you into staying, Toji. You deserve to live your life the way you want it.”

A life without you? Sounds pretty miserable.

Toji must have been walking on autopilot because for some reason, he unknowingly finds himself in front of a bank. Mizuho Bank, Toji reads the sign, his eyes flicking over to one of the posters plastered on the window about opening a savings account.

He looks at the promotional material, transfixed at the picture of a family of four donning on those typical wide stupid grins in ads, the father is holding a hundred yen bill and is seen dropping it into a piggy bank that was filled with both cash and words like: health insurance, family vacation, utility bills, rent, tax, school, and…happiness.

…

…

…

Toji returns to the apartment at around eight in the evening after making a quick stop at the supermarket and the pharmacy. He finds you asleep on the couch, your cheeks stained with dry tears. He crouches on the edge of the couch, worriedly taking in your appearance. You’ve been crying. “Hey…hey, wake up,” he gently shakes you awake and your tired eyes flutter open. “Got you something.”

He holds out a shopping bag, chock full of fresh produce, and from the pharmacy, some camphor oil to relieve your symptoms and those folate supplements the attending pharmacist kept yapping about.

“You didn’t leave,” you said, bewildered. “I thought you—“

“—You thought wrong,” Toji says firmly. He pulls out something from his back pocket and you stare at him, perplexed.

“A bank passbook?” You open it to see that Toji had just made his first deposit amounting to fifty thousand yen earlier today. “You opened a savings account?”

Toji nods, looking a little proud of himself. “Yeah,” he tries to play it off with a shrug of his shoulders. “Every week, we’ll be depositing fifteen thousand yen in that thing. Ten thousand for your maternity needs, and five for the little brat’s schooling one day.”

Tears spring to your eyes upon realizing that Toji was here to stay. “You mean you’re—?” You are cut off by a warm kiss on your lips, and you place a hand over Toji’s chest, your fingertips gripping the fabric of his shirt as his lips move against yours. He pulls away after a while.

“Gonna spite the hell out of the Zenin clan and send my brat to the most expensive preschool in Tokyo? Yes, I am.”

Toji sighs, his thumb rubbing across Megumi’s chubby cheek. “But maybe — just maybe — hear me out and don’t you give me another glare.” Megumi’s not gonna remember any of this. After all, memories begin when the brain can fully register speech. But Toji felt the need to say this so, subconsciously, his son will understand just how much he’s done and he’s willing to do for the both of you.

“…Maybe I deserve the two of you too, you know.”

Megumi looks up at his father, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. Toji sticks his tongue out at the little one causing the latter to…hiccup? Nah, Toji was sure that was a giggle.

Smirking, Toji leans down to give his son a kiss, thinking he’s patched things up between them now only for Megumi to curl up again, his feet and hands resisting against Toji, his lip downturned in effort as he pushes him away yet again. Conceding, Toji grumbles, rubbing the spot where Megumi roughly pushed him away.

“You really are your mother’s son.”

[kitten4sannie]

antithesis

pairing: peter parker/venom! yunho x gf! reader

genre: spider man au, smut

summary: your boyfriend is going through a phase.

w.c: 3.3k (porn with a microscopic amount of plot)

warnings: dom! yunho, sub! reader, venom should have his own warning bc bro is NASTYY (so is yuyu 🤝🏻), partial mind manipulation? on yunho’s part? bc venom is in his head? idk, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, teasing, fingering, hand kink….,, SIZE KINK., manhandling, pussy eating, tongue kink, raw feral sex (doggy + missionary), bro has a monster cock, also monster fucking!! bc venom takes over <3, cum eating, breeding kink, bulge kink, dacryphilia, mind break, record breaking creampie

a/n: listen …….i LOVE venom, the things i would let venom do to me would set humanity back at least fifty years. NOW VENOM YUNHO ON THE OTHER HAND,, oh boy. boyyyy oh boy. i don’t think i have to explain myself when it comes to that combination bc this fic speaks for itself lol. are you curious now? why don’t you give it a peek then, hm? (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ and then lemme know what you thought of it pretty please? <3

song rec: new woman - lisa feat. rosalía (get it bc he’s a new man - bc of venom - 😼)

fictober 2024

“And just where have you been, Jeong Yunho?” you asked your boyfriend in a more teasing manner than anything, once he snuck in past the sliding glass door of the balcony, getting up from the couch you were waiting restlessly on. When he stood there silently just looking at you through the white eye shaped sections of his mask, you pouted, nervously wrapping a lock of hair around your finger. “Just be honest with me and I won’t be mad, okay?” 

Despite the lack of sleep, you were ready for him this time. He wasn’t about to casually sneak in or out of the house another night that week without you catching him. Usually, you wouldn’t have been concerned because you were used to him being gone when there was crime taking place or a super villain that needed to be brought to justice, but recently…your boyfriend was acting strange. He was starting to become moody and secretive, opting to brush you off when you asked him about it. Yunho had even taken up using substances in his free time, finding him drunk or high off his ass in the apartment when you got home from work. The final straw was when you came home one night to find him in the kitchen with freshly dyed hair and new piercings he had given himself, a few empty boxes of black hair dye and bloody safety pins laying haphazardly on the kitchen counter. 

Yunho took off his mask and rubbed at his eyes like he was tired, leaving a bit of smeared eyeliner underneath them, before shoving his hands into the pockets of his frayed jacket, the one that was slightly zipped just enough to cover his iconic red suit. 

“She knows about us,” said the annoying parasite that had just recently made a home inside him. “We should eat her.”

“No, I’m not doing that,” Yunho grumbled, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

You walked up to him, gently putting a hand on his chest. “Yun, I just wanna know where you were at, that’s all. You know I respect your space,” you murmured, your pout growing slightly, your eyebrows upturned with concern. 

“She’s looking at us with those big round eyes again, Yunho,” Venom told his host, letting out a disgusting groan only he could hear. “It’s gonna make us hard. If we’re not going to eat her, let’s fuck her, at least.” 

“Mingi asked me to take care of some douchebags that had been causing trouble at that new club he works at. That’s all, baby,” Yunho replied softly, reaching down to press the back of his hand against your cheek, before cupping it. He noticed the teary look inside your doe eyes. “Hey, are you okay?” 

You nuzzled into his big warm hand, before reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck to hold your boyfriend close. “I’m fine…I’ve just been worried about you, Yun. You’ve been acting a bit…different.” 

“Let’s show her just how different we’ve become, Yunho,” Venom egged him on, knowing Yunho could feel just how much he wanted to break through the barrier of his host’s mind and take control. ��She’ll love it.”

How could he possibly explain to you that he was always in a never ending battle with a frightening otherworldly parasite that had found its way inside of him? You would be so scared and disgusted, you’d probably never trust him again. He couldn’t risk losing you, not when you were his only anchor to the normal life he desperately craved, and the first person he’s ever felt this strongly about. 

“I’m just going through a phase, I think,” Yunho expressed wholeheartedly, resting his hands around your waist, his thumbs slightly pressing into your hip bones through your sleep shirt, feeling just how delicate you truly were. You were so small compared to him, practically swimming in one of his band t-shirts that you regularly wore to bed; you were so tiny and cute, and…”Malleable,” Venom finished. Yunho couldn’t tell if the parasite was influencing all of his thoughts or if he was just that perverted. 

“Do you wanna talk about it, Yun?” You pressed yourself closer to Yunho, feeling his large hands enclose around your small waist, making you feel a bit dizzy. When he shook his head, you tilted yours, wondering if what you felt pushing against your middle was exactly what you thought it was. “Or, do you want to take me to bed?” 

It had felt like forever since Yunho had touched you, kissed you even. You had almost forgotten what it was like to feel him inside you, filling you up over and over again until his love spilled out. Just the thought alone made your body begin to overheat. Was it wrong of you to take his simple answer at face value? Should you have pushed the issue, instead of letting him push you back into the wall of the hallway? You weren’t sure, but you were just grateful that your boyfriend still wanted you like this. 

“Did punching those guys at the club make you this horny?” you asked playfully, a sudden shiver of pleasure shooting up your spine when Yunho’s warm hands snaked up underneath your shirt and began groping at your tits.

“So horny,” Yunho joked back, a shaky exhale escaping his bobbing throat as he swallowed. 

 “Nnngh, I didn’t know fighting crime did it for you, Yun.” 

“Knowing I’m already getting your little pussy wet just from this is what’s doing it for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, having to practically lower himself to your height just to do so, able to clearly hear the breathless moan that left your lips. Yunho was already breathing hard, his mind swimming with constant racing thoughts that all pertained to his pretty little girlfriend and what he was going to do to you, squishing your soft flesh in between his slender fingers, using his thumbs to rub your hardening nipples in teasing circles. 

It had felt like eternity since Yunho had allowed himself to feel you underneath his touch, to even simply look at you with unbridled lust. He wanted to see all of you, witness the way you completely opened yourself up to him. It was driving him insane. Was it selfish of him to give into temptation when there was something else living inside him? Something that he knew was taking even more pleasure in this than he was? He wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew it was far too late to stop now. 

“Let us see her tits, Yunho, they feel so nice inside our hands, we need to see,” Venom demanded, desperately shaking the bars of his figurative cage. 

When Yunho tugged your shirt up and over your tits, your gasp became muffled, your eyes widening as he stuffed the hem of the shirt into your mouth. You were going to close your legs to keep your arousal from spilling down your thighs, but your eager boyfriend pushed his larger one in between them. 

“You’re so pretty, angel,” Yunho cooed softly, admiring the way you began to grind your cunt against his thigh, despite the sheepish expression you offered him, a bit of drool escaping the corner of his mouth from witnessing such a display of pure desperation. “Look at you go…rubbing yourself all over my thigh like a horny little slut.” 

“N-not a slut,” you whimpered softly, his insult causing a fresh wave of slick to leak out onto Yunho’s torn jeans. “Just need you, Yuyu.” 

“Her breeding hole needs to be trained to handle my size. Do it now,” Venom growled into Yunho’s mind, growing more and more demanding by the second, very aware that his host was starting to lose control of himself. 

“Yeah? How about this?” Yunho pulled your panties to the side so that he could watch as your greedy cunt swallowed up one of his long, bony fingers to the knuckle. “Is that enough, baby?” 

“I meant with your human sized cock, you insufferable prick,” Venom chided, simply not understanding the pleasurable benefits that prolonged foreplay could offer being the inhibited hothead that he was. 

Something about the way Yunho was taking his time with unraveling you, the way he was drinking in the sight of your bare body with pure lust inside his dilated eyes, all while he had one of his digits plunged inside you. It made you pulse and squeeze around it. “F-full.”  

“But I barely fit one finger inside you, sweetheart. What’ll happen if I put another?” Yunho suddenly tugged your borrowed t-shirt up and over your head, leaning in close to your face to catch the way your breath hitched as soon as he slipped another finger inside, curling them just enough to hit your sweet spot each time he finger-fucked you, earning a few whiny moans from his beloved girlfriend. “Oh, that’s right. You turn into my little sex toy, don’t you?” 

“Y-esss, Yuyu, just for you, fuck,” you cried out, hooking your arms around his neck to keep yourself from completely melting into the floor. 

“That’s a good girl,” he groaned into your ear, quickly stuffing his thick digits into you, unable to get Venom’s ungodly thoughts out of his head all the while, unable to keep himself from shoving a third finger into you, your slick walls pulsating around him. “You think you’re feeling full now…just wait till my cock’s inside you.”

Gasping, your nails dug into his back through his clothes. “Oh my god, Yunho, give it to me, please, please, please,” you whined breathlessly into his neck, trembling in his arms as overwhelming pleasure washed over you. “N-need your cock in me.” 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re already begging to be fucked like that. I almost forgot how much of a needy little slut you are when you need cock. You like the thought of me stretching out your little pussy that much, huh?” He smiled against your heated skin when you whimpered and nodded eagerly, not allowing you to witness the brief moment his eyes turned completely black. “I just might split you open.” 

You almost didn’t recognize your boyfriend when he tossed you onto your shared bed like you weighed close to nothing, and you certainly didn’t recognize him when he manipulated your limbs until you were laying with your head down against the mattress and your ass up in the air. Usually, he wanted to do missionary, so that he could kiss and look at you when you both came undone, but now, now he had you in a position that was apparently ‘perfect for breeding’, or at least, that’s what you thought you had heard him mumbling about from behind you. 

“Now’s the time, human. We must show her how great we are,” the alien reminded Yunho, delighted that his black parasitic poison was now making its way through his host’s veins, showing up from underneath his milky skin. It was changing him in ways that would most definitely benefit all three of you. 

Yunho squeezed his large hands into the sides of your ass and spread it open, hyper focused on your dripping cunt and how it struggled to accommodate his obscene size. “Poor baby’s so tiny, my little princess can barely take me inside her pretty cunt,” he sighed, pulling out just enough to send a few strands of spit onto his own cock, lubing up the base of it and pushing back in, a shiver of pleasure shooting up his spine as soon as he heard the broken cry that left your drooling mouth. “Looks like we’re going to have to break you in.” 

You felt like you were losing your mind. Your boyfriend had just barely bottomed out inside of you and you were already about to cream yourself. And, it might’ve been the cock drunk state you were in, but you swore to god that his dick got bigger. It felt like it was kissing your cervix already and he hadn’t even moved yet. Not to mention, it felt so hot inside you, and there was so much pre-cum coating your walls, you almost thought he had came prematurely, but he would’ve been asleep and snoring away already if he did. 

Yunho violently interrupted your train of thought by slamming his hips forward, letting out a deep, long groan as though he were experiencing euphoria. He grabbed your wrists and held them behind your back, tucking them together so that he could hold them both with one large hand, and quickly got to work, yanking you back onto his cock, using you like his own personal sex doll. “That’s fucking it, isn’t it, angel? You like that? You fucking like that?” 

“Yeah, fuck me,” you moaned back, realizing this ‘phase’ of Yunho’s was one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to the both of you, previously unaware that something this rough, something this animalistic, could feel as good as it did. 

“She’s ours, she’s ours, Yunho, fuck, we’re going to cum inside her,” Venom blissfully announced into Yunho’s head, fully taking over his host in that very instant, gracing Yunho with the symbiote’s much more endowed features. 

It was then that you let out a sudden gasp, the air that quickly filled your lungs leaving as a wavering moan of pleasure instead. It was almost as if Yunho’s cock had grown twice in size. You didn’t even know how that was possible, but you were too lost in the moment to question it. “So big, it’s so fucking big, Yunho, nnnngh, it’s gonna break me,” you exhaled, quickly pulling at the sheets once he gifted you partial physical autonomy, your eyes beginning to disappear underneath your eyelashes. 

“That’s right, pretty girl, and you’re going to keep taking it all, even after I’m done impregnating you,” Yunho agreed huskily, bending over you until his overheated body pressed into your shoulders and back, his long fingers curling around the softness of your hips. Just as his never ending seed spilled into you and made its way into your womb, Yunho dragged his long tongue up in between your straining shoulder blades and along your neck, savoring your flavor. He truly wanted to eat you, unable to stop drooling, but the annoying mortal he shared this body with wouldn’t let him. Venom figured he would have to settle for the next best thing.  

You didn’t even have a chance to finish shaking, let alone take a breath, before you were being lifted up and lowered back down onto your boyfriend’s face, your cunt fitting snugly between the curves of Yunho’s lips and nose. Just as he lapped at your extremely sensitive clit and slit, you couldn’t help but jolt away, his forearms suddenly locking tightly around your middle. “O-oh…!” 

“Hold still. Need a taste of this pretty cunt,” Yunho growled under his breath, angling his head back and opening his mouth wide enough so that he could explore the entirety of your used cunt, licking and drinking up the mixed arousal that spilled out of you to his heart’s content.

“Y-yunhooo,” you whined pathetically, reaching forward to hold onto the headboard to keep yourself from passing out from the pleasure that was overloading your mind, looking down to watch how he eagerly nosed at your clit. “Fuck, i’ll cum again…” 

“Then, do it, princess.” Just as he swallowed down more of your wetness, he realized it wasn’t enough, unable to keep himself from sliding the entirety of his tongue inside you, feeling you clench around the base of it. 

“Oh my god, your tongue, it’s so–haaaah,” you reacted breathlessly, digging your nails into the wood of the headboard, the longer his serpent-like tongue slithered in and out of you so seamlessly, unable to fully understand how any of this was possible. When the thickest part of his appendage rubbed at your g-spot, you saw white around your vision, your ears ringing, unable to hear the filthy slurping sounds Yunho was making underneath you as he drank up your squirt. 

When you came to, you were back underneath Yunho, in the missionary position he loved so much, yet this time it was profoundly different. His eyes were as dark as his freshly dyed hair, one corner of his mouth split open, inviting a myriad of long, serrated fangs, all while black wispy tendrils clung onto one side of his face like a second skin. You realized too late why Yunho was acting so out of character, and that you were never actually alone with him the past few weeks. You had an uninvited guest, an alien symbiote known as Venom, to be exact — and here you were, face to face with him, his disgustingly oversized cock stretching you wide open.

“Oh god, you’re actually going to split me open, what the fuck,” you gasped sharply, clutching the sides of Yunho’s cheeks, your fingers tugging at the ends of his sweaty hair. 

“Silly human, as much as we’d enjoy seeing that, you won’t split apart. You have a prime body for breeding, didn’t you know?” he chuckled darkly in a two-toned voice, pressing his hand down into your abdomen to feel the sheer size of himself protruding through your lower belly each time his hips routinely smacked into yours. “We knew Spider-man’s pretty little girlfriend would make a perfect host for our offspring. Just look at you, you’re taking us so well.” 

You didn’t know what was going to break your mind first, the fact that you were essentially being used as a breeding tool for an alien that would take great pleasure in swallowing you whole, or the fact that your cunt was eagerly swallowing up something so absurdly large, its heavy girth and width stretching you so wide, it felt as though you would fall apart at any given time. Despite the insanity of it all, your body and mind welcomed it, creaming yourself on his alien cock. 

“Good girlll,” Yunho praised, letting his long slimy tongue slip out to lick up the side of your cheek until he tasted the salt from the tears that fell down your face. He fully sheathed himself inside you one last time, before his large hands cemented around your waist, holding you completely still as his hot load joined the other one he had previously fucked into you, his heavy breaths warming the skin of your neck. “That’s it, princess, take it all, just like that…” 

You could hardly breathe, let alone move, simply laying still in your boyfriend’s arms, taking everything he gave you, as wave after wave of cum coated the insides of your aching cunt and flooded womb, some of it spilling down the insides of your legs and dripping onto the stained sheets below. It felt so good to be filled up in such a way that you came again without direct stimulation, letting out a broken cry, before Yunho silenced you with a kiss. 

When you opened your teary eyes, your boyfriend’s previously monstrous traits were gone, instead replaced with his usual soft, flushed features that you adored so much. You watched him open and close his mouth, as if he didn’t know what to say. You pressed another kiss to his lips, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Should we go to the drugstore to get Plan B?”

Yunho gave you a goofy, though apologetic smile, leaning his face into your neck to give it a few kisses. He pulled himself back up to face you, his eyebrows upturned. “D-do you think it would work on an alien symbiote?” 

You patted his head, knowing what you signed up for when you decided to date the Spider-man, figuring one of his superhero friends would have a solution for the both of you. You gave him a soft smile, happy when he returned it. “If not, let’s get a refund.” 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[hollandsangel]

voice | m. sturniolo

i had this idea a million years ago, please enjoy!!

summary: chris wonders if you can tell his and matt’s voice apart

warnings: super fluffy!! a bit suggestive at the very end, i’m questioning if it’s good or not

wc: 1.6k

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

“i call shower first!” you exclaim the second the garage door is open, sprinting past matt up the stairs to his bathroom.

“there’s three showers,” chris says matter-of-factly as you blow past him on the steps, holding a hand out in confusion.

matt sighs and follows behind you, passing chris as well, “yeah, but you don’t have to share,” 

you’re already on the mainfloor, running into matt’s bedroom to grab the change of clothes you’d left earlier.

“i’m so glad i don’t have a girlfriend,” chris mutters, earning a smack upside the head from nick, “jesus, fuck, what,”

“you’re just annoying,” nick says, deciding it’s a good enough explanation and getting a laugh out of matt.

“agreed,” matt’s still chuckling when they reach the kitchen table, setting down the take out the four of you had gotten on your way back to the house. he hears the water turn on in his bathroom, accompanied by the soft sound of your voice as you sing along to your music.

“oh she’s a nicki fan,” nick says to no one in particular, referencing the tik tok sound when he notices you’re listening to a nicki minaj song. 

matt looks up from the bag of food and laughs.

chris sinks into the couch but looks over at matt, arm slung over the cushions, “i wonder if she could tell our voices apart,” he says after a second. 

“what?” matt asks, thinking the question is mildy rediculous. 

“like do you think she could recognize your voice?” chris explains, wandering into the kitchen now. opening a pepsi and leaning up against the counter. 

nick chimes in now, having been fiddling with the vlog camera and battery, “like compared to you and me?” he asks chris, glancing back at matt as if to say ‘is this guy for real?’

“yeah,” chris nods.

“yeah, obviously she’d be able to tell my voice apart from yours,” matt is looking back at the food again, tone matter-of-fact, as if what he’d said was absolute common sense. 

chris is quiet for about half a second and matt thinks that’s the end of that absurd conversation. it isn’t, of course. 

“should we test it out?” chris asks through a sip of soda.

matt officially gives up on trying to set the food up, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before turning to chris, “and how are we gonna do that?”

chris shrugs, but nick has an idea, “chris, you could like, just go ask her for something, if you left something in the bathroom—“

“absolutely not,” matt shuts it down immediately with a shake of his head, “you're not going in the bathroom when my girlfriend is showering,”

“i won’t even go all the way in!! i’ll cover my eyes,” chris promises, but matt is still skeptical. “i’ll just like poke my head in the door and ask if i left like..a belt or some shit in there,” is chris’ next offer. 

matt sighs and thinks about it, weighing the pros and cons. of course you can tell his voice apart from his brothers…right? he’s making himself nervous, pysching himself out and worrying they all sound the same to you. it upsets him for some reason, he can’t quite decide why.

“fine,” he agrees after a beat of silence, convincing himself you know whis voice well enough to separate it from chris’, and if you can’t, he thinks he might actually feel a sick twinge of unjustified jealousy.

“yes,” chris mutters under his breath, always excited to pull a prank on anyone.

“this is definitely going in the vlog,” nick says, still messing with the camera and coming to sit at the kitchen table where matt is now.

“i can’t believe i agreed to this,” matt mumbles, rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath. he stands from his seat and walks over to the wall where he can see the bathroom door, feeling some what protective, like he needs to supervise chris to make sure he doesn’t wander too far into the bathroom.

“what should i say?” chris turns back arms pulled in close to his body as if he’s nervous. he’s already grinning and trying to keep from laughing.

“ooh, call her sweetheart, matt always does that,” nick suggests, wiggling his brows in matt’s direction to tease him.

“oh my god,” matt groans softly, rubbing at his eyes, “i fucking hate you guys,”

“okay, i’m going in,” matt drops his hands at that, eyes on his brother immediately. chris puts a hand over his eyes, just as he said he said he would before knocking on the door. nick has the camera out to record and is trying to stifle his laugh in the collar of his hoodie.

at the sound of the knock matt hears your voice, calling out for him, no doubt thinking it’s him at the door. he has to cover his mouth, partly out of nerves but also to keep himself from saying anything.

“yeah,” chris starts, needing to take a second before continuing because he’s already making himself laugh. “yeah, sweetheart, did i leave my belt in here?” he asks, barely stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

“uhh, i think it’s in your bedroom?” you say after a slight pause, about to poke your head out from behind the shower curtain, but chris has already mumbled a ‘thanks’ and essentially sprinted out of the bathroom, closing the door and crumbling to the floor in giggles.

“you’re not fucking real,” matt shakes his head, laughing softly himself and pushing off the wall to go back to the kitchen table. he’s a bit bummed that you didn’t realize it wasn’t his voice, but he keeps that to himself.

nick pans the camera over to matt’s face, which seems expressionless, even with both his brothers cackling outside of the frame.

you come out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, heading into matt’s bedroom to drop the clothes you’d changed out of. matt is instantly sitting back up, the legs of his chair scraping along the hardwood floors.

“ooh, someone’s pissed,” nick turns the camera to himself, eyeing the now closed door.

“that was too fucking good,” chris says after a deep breath, still recovering from laughing so hard. he pulls a chair out next to nick and the two start to explain what had happened to the camera, eyes flicking up to matt’s door every few seconds.

in the bedroom you’re putting your dirty clothes back into your bag when matt comes in, looking a little bit pouty, “hey baby,” you turn towards him, laughing at the slightly pathetic look he gives you, “what’s up?” you wonder.

“m’ tired,” he tells you, slumping up against you for a hug. you wrap your arms around him and rub his back, letting him lay his weight into you.

“we’ll eat and go to bed, yeah?” you give his back another little pat when he nods against you, “mkay, let’s go,” you kiss his cheek quickly, only to have him turn his head in search of a real kiss. you oblige of course.

nick and chris have already started eating and updating the vlog on their day when you and matt come out of the bedroom. matt joins them at the table but you head for the fridge to grab a drink. “oh, did you find your belt?” you ask matt, still digging around.

“what?— oh yeah” he mumbles, gaze turned down to his fries.

“okay good. by the way you sounded so much like chris when you came in— it freaked me the fuck out” you say with your head in the fridge, still searching for the diet coke you know you left inside the door, “did one of you drink my coke–”

“wait what?” matt’s head snaps up, food forgotten.

“hmm?” you turn around to find all three boys looking at you. nick’s mouth open in a half smile and chris clearly trying not to burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. matt’s just staring at you with eyes a little bit too wide before he speaks up.

“what do you mean i sounded weird?” he asks, leaning forward. you notice nick’s shut up about whatever he was saying to the camera earlier, pointing the lens at you now.

“i dunno, when you said sweetheart it just sounded super fucking weird— why are you guys looking at me like that–” you have to ask, feeling slightly weirded out by the intensity of their gazes

“i knew it!!” matt cheers, punching the air and doing a silly little dance as nick doubles over and starts hitting the table.

chris’ jaw drops and he presses his fingers into his eyes as he laughs next to his brother, leaning on him.

matt bounds over to you with a grin, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground slightly.

“whaaaat,” you giggle, clearly confused by their reaction. 

“it was me,” chris manages to say between bouts of laughter, “we– we were trying to see if you could tell our voices apart.”

“of course i can tell your voices apart, especially your voice,” you turn towards matt, saying it like it should be obvious, like it’s silly they doubted you for even a second. 

matt’s just grinning at you, feeling a strange sense of pride swelling in his chest, “i knew you could,” 

“bullshit!” chris exclaims, both him and nick still leaning against each other as they laugh.

“he’s right, you were freaked the fuck out,” nick manages to say between giggles, “you watched chris like a fucking hawk when he opened the bathroom door,” he looks over at you, his smile contagious, “he was definitely freaked the fuck out,”

matt groans and drops his head against your shoulder. you brush your fingers through his hair and chuckle to yourself, “awe matt,” you coo, “i definitely know your voice, i’ll probably be hearing lots of it later anyways.”

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Little Things He Does

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: tiny bit of smut

He knew that you were one of those girls who appreciated the little things and for whom physical touch was one of the biggest indicators of love.

With that in mind, Lando tries to do as many of those little things every day just to make you happy. Some of those little things he isn’t even aware he is doing that you, of course, notice and which make you love him even more if that's even possible.

For example, when you’re making your way through a crowd and paparazzi is pushing their cameras in your faces. Lando is tightly holding your hand, constantly turning to check if you're okay, keeping you close to him and trying to shield you as much as possible because he knows it’s very much out of your comfort zone.

“You okay, baby?” He asked.

“Yeah, barely..”

“Just hold on tight to me, we’re almost there, okay?” He assured you squeezing your hand.

Or how while you're walking down the sidewalk, he moves you to the other side so that he's closer to the road.

“So anyway, I told her that it's not a problem, she just needs to let me know about such things earlier so that I can organize myself.” You rambled to him about work on your evening run on the streets of Monaco.

Except on your way back to the apartment you didn't run anymore because you were too tired and wanted to tell him what happened at work earlier today.

“Yeah, you did the right thing. You shouldn’t keep quiet about such things.”

“I mean I have a life outside of work too, you know?” You sighed.

“You know you don’t have to work, baby..” Lando said sliding his hand around you waist and almost imperceptibly moving you to the other side away from the road.

“Lan, don’t even start with that again. We already had that conversation.”

He kept his hand on your lower back for a while before putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to him.

“Or I can do something for you to go on a maternity leave..” He smirked making you burst out laughing.

Or the way he constantly holds your hand even when he’s talking to somebody and when you try to sneak out of his grip he almost instantly grips you tighter as if you’re going to run away. Or when fans ask him for an autograph, and instead of letting go of your hand, he just switches it from his right to left because he wants you close to him all the time.

Or when he has you underneath him while he’s thrusting into you. When he’s so close he lets you know he’s about to come whispering into your ear.

“Oh yes, yes, Lan, uhh” You close your eyes, your voice coming out in broken moans as he keeps knocking the air out of you.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum” He stuttered whispering before spilling his hot load inside you. He was gasping for air, tingles ran through his body as he buried hos head in your neck riding out his orgasm.

He often tells you “You’re gonna make me cum” as well wanting to remind you that no one can except for you. And you love the way he becomes so vulnerable after he cums.

You could have the dirtiest sex ever the one where he’s spitting into your mouth, choking you, making you gag around him, spanking you and pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow, but once both of you finish he just wants to take care od you and make sure he didn’t take it too far.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks looking down at you and moving your hair out of your face.

“I’m fine, don’t worry” You smiled. “I loved it”

“I love you so much” He whispers spreading small soft kisses all over the side of your neck.

Or when you're in the paddock together and you're both giving interviews at the same time, you're standing a little further away from him but close enough for him to hear what the reporters are questioning you. He doesn't know that you notice how he can't concentrate on the questions they're asking him because he keeps turning his head towards your direction keeping his eyes on you to make sure they're not making you feel uncomfortable. So when the reporter asks him something he just keeps saying "sorry, can you repeat that?"

Or the way that when you're going to some kind of event or even just going out, and you're wearing a short dress or some other kind of risky outfit, he opens the car door for you and stands in front to shield you from the paparazzi until you fix your dress and are ready to step out of the car.

Or the way he always comes to apologize first when you have an argument. Neither of you can stand going to bed fighting, it's not natural for you. It doesn't matter if it's your fault or his, he's always the one who comes first and says "let's not do this".

You weren't even sure how the argument came about, but you found yourself yelling at each other for some stupid reason. You were tired and annoyed because he wasn't listening to what you were saying, he was still stressed from losing the race and you just went off on each other.

He let it take an hour for you both to calm down and give each other some space, but he didn't last much longer than that before he came into the room where you were lying on your shared bed reading a book in the dim light.

He sat next to you on the bed, and you ignored him, not taking your eyes off the book. He then gently took the book from your hands and moved even closer to you taking your cheeks between his palms.

"Let's not do this, okay? I feel bad for yelling and I'm sorry about that." He says caressing your cheek with his thumb. "I don't like when we're fighting and when we can't talk things out."

You remain silent for a few seconds to swallow the tears that have gathered in your eyes. "I don't like it either. I overreacted and I'm sorry too." Your voice cracked and the tears started to roll down your cheeks.

"Baby, hey, there's no reason to cry." He said pulling you to him and kissing the side of your head.

"Sorry, I just feel so bad right now because I know you still feel bad about the race and I feel like I didn't give you enough support and comfort but I just took it out on you for nothing."

"It's okay, baby, being with you now is the only comfort I need."

Or that one time when Lando met a little fan in the paddock who asked him about you.

"Is that your girlfriend?" The little boy asked pointing his finger towards you. You weren't with them but talking to some other fan further away from the two of them.

Lando looked in the direction the boy was pointing and nodded. "Yeah, that's y/n, my girlfriend." He said and the little boy giggled. "What?" Lando chuckled.

"She's pretty." The boy said and Lando couldn't hide his ear-to-ear grin.

He looked towards you again and said "I know, right? The prettiest."

Or the way he kisses you on the cheek. There's something about the way he does it. It just feels so special when he comes up from behind you, wraps his arms around you, pulls you to his chest and presses his lips to your cheek. Or when you're watching TV on the couch and you're lying between his legs leaning against him and every now and then he leans his head down to leave a soft kiss on your cheek.

Lando knows that you don't like too much PDA, especially in front of your friends. You're not a fan of kissing in front of them and Lando respects that, but still manages to steal a kiss on the cheek even in front of them.

Or the way when both of your are in the kitchen and you're trying to reach something from the top shelf and he does it for you before you even get to ask him to.

Or the way he keeps snapping pictures of you when you're not looking.

Or the way he keeps a funny picture of you as his wallpaper.

Or the way he looks at you as you happily jump and sing along when he surprises you by taking you to your favorite concert. He is so fulfilled when you are happy, and that is exactly all he needs, you being happy.

Or the way he talks about you in interviews.

"I live a pretty fast-paced life and I tend to put myself under a lot of pressure. Then there's the pressure of being constantly in the public eye as well. Always on the move, training a lot, it often gets to a point where it just becomes too much, you know? It tends to be very overwhelming and exhausting, but all of that disappears the second I come home to her. She makes all of my worries go away and reminds me of what's really important in life. She always puts me back on track. I couldn't do it without her."

All those little things that he does are anything but little to you.

[starkeyisthelastname]

trailerpark!rafe wakes up with one thing on his mind and it’s not what you are baking. 💦🍯 dirty sex below

Your pretty little self loved to bake and that didn’t stop even when you were over at Rafe’s. He had just woken up, tall body stretching as he lifted himself off the worn mattress. His nose caught a whiff of something sweet, his heavy footsteps carrying him through the creaky trailer and towards the small kitchen. You were quite the sight to take in, standing by the oven as your pretty eyes surveyed the pan you had just taken out by the looks of it. In nothing but a little pink nightgown with the fat of your ass hanging out and nipples poking through the thin material, had his mouth watering for something else sweet.

“Whatcha doing up so early, sugar?” His raspy voice vibrated through the kitchen as you began mixing the icing together. You got a little startled as when you were baking you were in your own world. You were of course happy he was awake though, bouncing on your feet to face him. “Making cinnamon rolls.” You told him, his large hands coming to roughly squeeze your waist.

His blue eyes looked over at the stove, before glancing down at you and raking across your body that looked tiny in comparison to his. “Cinnamon rolls, huh? You always gotta make somethin’ sweet for me. Don’t you?” He asked, voice low as he brought one of his hands up to grip your chin firmly.

You didn’t hesitate to nod, eyes wide and lashes long as they blinked up at your favorite person. Rafe let out a throaty laugh, his thumb coming up to rest against your pouty bottom lip. “I’m gonna do somethin’. Yeah? And don’t start worrying’ about those cinnamon rolls you made either.” He rasped out, watching your pretty face frown.

He moved your bowl of icing to the side, your little protest about it being cut short as he lifted you up onto the counter. He pulled you further down, his massive hand yanking your tits out of the nightgown and bunching it around your waist to see your perfect cunt. “Shit… pussy is beggin’ to be fuckin’ touched.” He laughed, his thumb coming out to rub your sweet pearl in circles. He loved watching you shudder, not knowing what to do as you were still new to all of these dirty things. He smirked, leaning down to bury his pert nose against your clit and shove tongue in your hole.

He was addicted, your cunt like a drug to him as he slurped your sweet sugar up. He couldn’t get enough, blunt nails digging into your fleshy thighs as he ate you like the poor starved man he was. Your sweet whines above only making him want more. He didn’t give a damn how messy he got either, moving his head back and forth as he buried his tongue even further to make you squeal.

His heavy blue eyes watched as you looked down him, your tits swaying as you breathed heavily from pleasure. He pulled back, sliding a thick digit in which you automatically clenched around. “That’s my good little fuckdoll.” He murmured, his free hand coming up to slap your tits. “I’m about to fuckin’ pound your pretty cunt sweet baby.”

His facial hair was sticky with your juices, tickling your neck as his thick cock rammed into you. He let out a breathy groan against your soft skin, the hard smacks of his thrusts echoing off the trailer walls. You were a babbling mess, his big dick stretching your drenched hole and his words growing dirtier.

He pulled away from your neck, both his large hands coming on either side of your head to hold it in place. His piercing eyes bored into you, making your corrupted little brain spin. “Fuck, how’d I get so lucky? Baking me treats and shit. Cleaning up this shithole of a place for me. Gettin’ to breed you with my little trailer park babies.” He said, making your eyes roll back as that funny feeling was growing more in your tummy. Especially the way held you and place, making you take his monster dick and hear his dirty words.

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake – From Vigilante to Infinite Realms Royalty

It was one of those things that Tim never imagined would happen, not in his wildest Gotham nights. But then again, dating Danny Fenton, aka Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, came with more than just the usual paranormal hijinks.

Tim was used to strange things, but being royalty? That was definitely new.

The revelation hit him one evening when Danny casually mentioned it, like he was talking about the weather.

“You know you’re technically royalty now, right?” Danny said, lounging upside down in the air like it was the most normal thing ever.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Royalty? What are you talking about?”

Danny grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Well, you’re dating me. And I’m the King of the Infinite Realms. So that makes you my consort… which, you know, technically makes you royalty too.”

Tim froze. “Wait—what? That’s not how this works. I didn’t sign up for—”

“Oh, but it is how it works. Welcome to ghost politics, Drake.”

And that’s when Tim realized his life just got infinitely more complicated.

Naturally, the bats found out. Because of course they did. And it spiraled into something Tim really didn’t want to deal with.

It started when he casually mentioned it during a meeting in the Batcave. He figured it wasn’t a big deal. After all, being ‘royalty’ in a ghost dimension didn’t really change anything, right?

Wrong.

Bruce didn’t even flinch. He just kept typing at the Batcomputer. “You’re dating the Ghost King, and now you’re royalty?”

“Technically, yes,” Tim said, trying not to sound too defensive.

Bruce glanced at him. “I see.”

That was all he said. But it was enough to make Tim feel like he’d just announced he was moving to the moon.

Jason, of course, immediately jumped on it. “Hold up. So you’re, like, ghost royalty now? Does that mean you get a crown or something?”

Tim shot him a glare. “No, I’m not getting a crown.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Jason grinned. “Sounds like royalty to me. Next thing you know, we’re gonna be bowing to Prince Drake of the Phantom Zone.”

“It’s not the Phantom Zone, Todd.”

Damian, predictably, was furious. “This is ridiculous. You, Drake? Royalty? You are not fit for any throne, especially one in the Infinite Realms. The entire concept is absurd.”

Tim sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’m not ruling anything, Damian. It’s just a title.”

“An unearned one,” Damian muttered under his breath.

Steph, on the other hand, thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Wait, wait. So if you and Danny are together for real, does that mean we have to call you ‘Your Highness’? I need to know. Are there royal ghost duties? Do you have to make decrees?”

“No. Please stop,” Tim groaned.

But the worst part? The teasing didn’t stop. Every dinner, every mission, every time Tim walked into the room, someone had something to say.

“So, Tim,” Dick said one day with a grin. “Have you started planning ghostly state visits yet? I’m sure the Justice League would love to attend a royal banquet in your honor.”

“No state visits,” Tim said through gritted teeth. “I don’t even rule anything.”

“Sure you don’t, ‘Your Ghostliness,’” Jason added with a laugh.

The bats seemed to think it was the funniest thing in the world. Tim? Not so much. But he had to admit, ghost politics were no joke. He was already getting drawn into weird Infinite Realms power struggles, where ancient beings would bow to him and ghosts would whisper about “the King’s consort.”

At first, Tim tried to play it off. He didn’t need the title. He wasn’t about to walk around with a crown and robes, or start making royal proclamations. But when one of the ghost courtiers addressed him as “My Lord,” he couldn’t help but cringe.

Danny found the whole thing hilarious. “Don’t worry,” he’d say with a smirk. “You won’t have to do anything royal. It’s just… a perk.”

“Some perk,” Tim muttered.

Still, despite all the teasing and the bizarre ghostly politics, Tim knew one thing for sure: he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Dating Danny came with chaos, sure. But at the end of the day, Tim was okay with it. Even if it meant being ghost royalty.

Just… no crown. Ever.

[monstersholygrail]

It broke your heart to leash and put a muzzle on your Werewolf bf. But ultimately you really didn’t have any other option.

Not when he was growling and snarling at anyone who dare to look at you too long. Protecting his territory and constantly preparing to fight off any human who he thinks is planning to take you away from him.

Even now with a leash attached to his pretty collar and the muzzle fit snuggly on his face, he still pulls and tugs on the leash, growling lowly as other hybrids pass by on your daily walks around the park. But at least now you nor anyone else has to worry about things getting out of hand.

Or at least that’s what you think…

Your bf is silently stewing, practically seething at the fact that you’ve done this to him. His bad mood only increasing the amount of times he snarls at his competitors for your affection that pass you by.

His limitations only serve to remind him what you’ve done to him. And boy does it make him want revenge. To teach you who’s really the one in charge here as the desire to make you submit roars inside of him.

That feeling only grows as your walk continues and by the time the two of you have gotten back to your home, your bf is practically vibrating in his skin. The need to pounce on you and mount you pumps through his veins and electrifies the urge.

You gently take off the leash and the muzzle and he finally feels free. Your soft smile and sweet touch never leave his face as you hang them up. For a second his heart warms at your affection but the clank of metal rings in his ears and he’s reminded he’ll have to wear them again for your walk later.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” You ask lightly, leaning in and giving him a chaste kiss before turning around and heading to your room.

Your bf’s eyes follow you closely like a predator hunting their prey. He smirks wickedly and lifts the leash off the hook before following you, tail wagging in excitement thinking about how he’s gonna demolish that sweet pussy of yours.

“You deserve a treat for being such a good boy. Can get you some from the kitchen in a minute,” you call out as you flick on the bedroom lights, preparing to change into your pajamas for the night.

At your comment he freezes outside your door, vision flashing till all he sees is red. That was the final straw and before he can stop himself, your bf is swiftly jumping out to pounce on you.

You yelp as his body barrels into yours, pinning you to the bed before you can even blink. He chuckles darkly, claws digging into the flesh of your wrists to keep you still for him.

“A snack?! No, babygirl, imma take the whole meal. I think I’ve earned it after what you put me through.”

Your eyes widen as you realize where this is coming from. Your body squirms but he pushes his hips against yours and you whine as his cock nudges against your wet folds. His dominating presence turning you on more than you can admit.

“I-it was just a precaution, please,” you beg, though you don’t know what you’re begging for.

But as he takes out the leash he was holding and starts tying it around your wrists, binding them to the bedpost, you know. You’re begging for more.

“Yeah, well I can’t have you squirmin’ ‘round on me. So this is just a precaution,” he mocks with a dangerous smile that has his fangs glittering in the sunlight.

With a harsh tug your bf exposes your messy folds. He runs his fingers down your soaked slit and you cry out, hips jerking up to meet his teasing touch.

“Ahhh, it seems like you’ve been lying to me. You like it when I’m like this. It gets you all hot and wet— fucking hell you’re dripping all over my hand, love.” A rumble moves through his chest as he sees just how desperate you are for him.

Not waiting a moment more he removes his pulsing cock from its sheath and slams himself inside you in the blink of an eye. You moan loudly, body bucking at the sudden intrusion. But the leash and his hands keep you tied down as he pounds his length deep inside your pussy.

Whimpers leave you as you’re left defenseless against his attack, his brutal pace jolting your body with each thrust with no way to add to the pleasure he forces onto you. No matter how much you try and squirm it’s no use. You can’t reach him.

“Oh fuck, please. Take the leash off. Let me touch you, please, let me touch you!”

You let out a strangled whine as he starts aiming for the soft spot along your walls. Your bf shushes you gently, a clawed hand moving to hold your neck in a firm grip.

“Sh, sh, sh. No talking. Wouldn’t want me to get the muzzle now,” he rasps as he quickens his pace, leaving you mewling as your back arches unnaturally.

He goes on for what feels like forever. Bringing you to climax over and over again. Only allowing short sounds of pleasure to leave your lips. His grip on your neck squeezing every time you talk until you cum on his cock and it all starts over.

By the time you’re done and he gently removes the leash from your wrists, your body is nothing but a limp bag of bones. Yet you still have the strength to immediately cling onto your bf, keeping him close as he whispers praises in your ear about how good you did for him and how he can’t wait for your next walk so you can do this again.

[screampied]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ TWENTY THREE MISSED CALLS — G. SATORU

☆ sum. you had always nagged to your boyfriend satoru to answer his damn phone. it’d always go straight to voicemail—you told him in your own words, ‘toru, what if something ever happened to you?’ but this time, it was far too late.

wc. 1.7k tags. gn!reader, angst, nickname(s) 'baby, angel.'

an. idk how to write angst much but i was sad so came up w this. merry christmas :)

“hey heyy, it’s satoru. uh, you’ve reached the—eheh what does that lady say again…? you’ve reached the voicemail box of.. gojo satoru. leave a message after the beep, beeeeep. heh, bye.”

such a dork.

you lost count of how many times you listened to that automatic message over and over again. the playful cheekiness in his voice, you could just see his smile. the dumb dimples that poke out against both of his cheeks whenever he grinned.

a cute dork. your dork.

besides that though, it’s been at least twenty three times of you ringing him, but to no avail. each time it went straight to voicemail—sucking your teeth in confusion, you started pacing around your bedroom. it was christmas morning, and gojo promised he’d be here before you wake up.

he couldn’t be…

no, he’s gojo satoru. he always wins, right?

right..?

the more you waited, the more impatient you became. the room grew colder and colder, despite the heat being turned on. you sat on gojo’s side of the bed, inhaling his scent, as if he was here right now.

he’d always fill up the room with his loud cologne scents—you’re always telling him how it’s too strong and he always kisses your cheek, muttering, “eh really? i don’t smell it that much, baby..”

the scent was always sweet, a mixture of cinnamon and multiple other spices—you glanced at the roségold alarm clock that rested against your nightstand, the time reading six thirty am.

he still wasn’t here.

it was hard to not overthink, think the worst, gojo was always so good at calming your nerves. you’d be one to constantly overthink. his trick to stop that was to simply hold you in his arms, stroke your hair and tell you in a soft cheery voice, “hey angel, everything’s gonna be okay. i’m okay, we’re okay.”

but again, he still wasn’t here.

gojo mentioned to you before he left last night around midnight he had to ‘take care of something’ — his code word of he’s about to go into battle or fight, but he didn’t want you to worry about him.

that’s the very last thing he wanted. and if anything, he always assured you he’d be okay. even if he was beaten to a pulp by his enemies, he’d always return back home to you with that stupid lovable grin on his face.

so what made christmas day any different?

you swallowed the thick, nonexistent lump in your throat, trying to snap out of your deep melancholy thoughts. dragging your feet,

you rubbed your eyes from the sun just barely shinning through the curtains scattered throughout the house.

with a soft sigh, you made your way towards the christmas tree — the pretty lengthy tree the both of you decorated together last minute, a tiny smile went on your face at remembering how gojo kept accidentally breaking all of the ornaments, so he had to constantly keep buying new ones.

lights, glimmery multicolored lights, a plethora of ornaments and a pretty sheeny star sits at the very top. you sat on your knees, before glancing down at the various presents — one caught your eye, it was a tiny box. a velvet heart shaped box, and gojo told you it was the biggest surprise yet.

you paused, glancing down at your phone that was about it to die soon, wondering why gojo still hasn’t returned any of your calls.

he’s been gone for hours, and the knot in your stomach continued to tighten—it felt like something inside of you was squeezing, tugging you from the inside.

was this what a gut feeling feels like? something was telling you, screaming at you that something wasn’t right.

with shaky hands, you went to his contact for what seems like the millionth time, staring at the image that was his picture, him and you.

the both of you were being goofy, it was a old polaroid picture a few years ago of the both of you during your birthday.

he spoiled you so much that day, but as always he never forgot to repeat how much he loved you.

the phone rang three times and your mind pretty much knew mentally he wasn’t gonna answer, it was a bit foolish for you to continuously keep trying. but something in you told yourself, it’s satoru. he’s gonna answer. anything to reassure yourself, this happens a lot — gojo’s the type of person who always has his phone on silent, or he says he’ll call you back but ends up forgetting.

after a few rings, the same automatic voicemail plays, and just hearing his voice again, no matter how many times — it never fails to make your heart swoon.

“hey heyy, it’s satoru. uh, you’ve reached the—eheh what does that lady say again…? you’ve reached the voicemail box of.. gojo satoru. leave a message after the beep, beeeeep. heh, bye.”

you intake a sharp breath, closing your eyes before bringing the warm phone up to your ear, pressing it against your cheek before speaking in a voice.

a voice you hardly recognized, “…toru?” and you were on the brink of tears, it was easy to hear and you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you but at this point..

was it really worth holding on to?

fifteen long seconds passed and you forgot the phone was still in your hand.

you sniffled, gathering yourself briefly before continuing in a soft drowsy voice, “h-hey, um. i don’t mean to blow your phone up but, you aren’t responding and i’m getting kind of scared. are you okay?”

you pause again, feeling the sting of tears nearly escape through your eyelids before you squeeze your eyes shut, lightly squeezing your left thigh to prevent any more emotions from revealing themselves.

“i um, just wanna say i love you, and i hope you’re okay. i didn’t wanna open my gifts until you got here but you’re taking forever..”

and you manage to crack a tiny smile that purses against your lips—yet after a while, it fades and your heart feels like it’s just walking on egg shells. “but anyway, yeah. i love you satoru, text or call me back so i know you’re alright, please? and just get home safe okay? bye.”

you hung up the phone and a single tear ran down your cheek.

so much time had passed, and he still wasn’t here. it was nearly seven in the morning now, and your dumb curiosity got the best of you—you wondered what gojo’s big surprise gift was.

he wanted you to wait to see your reaction, but you were just so curious, so enthused.

you started to peel the pretty striped velvet wrapping paper off, one at a time, it was neatly wrapped with a perfect red and blank bow tied on the top.

once you opened it, it had a tiny black box, and your eyebrows raised, a note sticking out the side. grabbing it, you revealed it and it read in neat handwriting:

“hi baby!! merry merry christmas, i’m kinda tearing up while writing this, and i know i know you probably just wanna see the gift but first read this ‘kay? just wanna say i love love you so much, and i’m so glad we’ve been together for almost four years now. you mean everything to me, you’re so sweet and kind, always there whenever i need to talk my feelings out, or even if i just need to lay on you and fall asleep. but anywho, you know who loves you? this guy! hopefully i made you smile as you read this, im probably not at home yet but ill be back soon. don’t worry your pretty little head, alright? i love you baby, merry christmas from your honored one, xoxo.”

tears were in your eyes—and it was like you could hear him, he was right, you did manage to smile. sniffling, you placed the note aside before opening the small black box.

once you pulled the top back, your eyes widened, seeing a small coruscating ring. your heart sang, blinking twice to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

gojo was planning to propose..?

the ring was so pretty.

various scattered crushed up like pearls around the top, and once the tears started, they kept streaming down your face. you quickly pulled it out, sliding it on your ring finger and it was a perfect fit — in a frail sob, you mumble, “y-yes, i’ll marry you satoru.”

yet — that’s when you wake up, finally snapping back to reality. confused with tears still streaming down your face, burning.

“satoru?”

no answer.

you get up from the bed, your eyes widen before you look at your right hand — and the engagement ring was still there. a sigh of relief exits your mouth, and that’s when you make your way towards the kitchen.

nothing to worry about, maybe you just fell asleep while opening the gift. yeah, that had to be it.

although, the atmosphere of your house felt different. taking a quick glance in the living room, the christmas tree wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t snowing, and it was almost as if you lived by yourself.

“satoru?” you called out again, before pulling out your phone — scrolling towards your messages and your heart suddenly sank. the last message you sent him was two years ago, a subtle ‘satoru, it’s christmas and you’re still not here? are you okay?’

christmas…?

you pulled a tab down on your phone — and the date read march 17th. approximately two years later from when you last sent that message, and you were so confused.

but the further you scrolled down, you saw messages from others, sending you their regards and condolences for your loss….loss?

the recent message was from geto — and your last reply was, ‘thank you, i’m doing okay. i just still can’t believe he’s gone.”

. . .

you felt sick — tear after tear racing down both sides of your face before coming to the sudden unfathomable realization.

gojo never came back home for one reason and one reason only. he died a painful death those long two years ago, even though he swore he’d come back to you on christmas.

perhaps everything was all a lie.

sometimes people don’t win all the time, not even the honored one, the love of your life, gojo satoru.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ LUCKY — GOJO SATORU.

contents. baths + non sexual nudity, established relationships, tired toru :(, lots of kissies and praise for the babie :(, solid proof in the form of writing of how embarrassingly lovesick i am for this FOOL

it’s past midnight when satoru walks into your bathroom. he doesn’t even question why you’re in the bath so late—just gives you a lopsided grin tiredly as you smile.

“you’re home,” you brighten.

“look at you,” he coos, staring down at you with amused eyes, “waitin’ for me?”

satoru is tired—you can tell from the way the his shoulders are slouched and his blindfold is clutched in his hand. “i was,” you hum in agreement, “c’mere.”

it’s all it takes. he’s stripped down and waiting for you to move up so he can slide behind you in seconds, hand waving to motion you forward. but you’re stubborn—you shake your head as you hold an arm out for him.

“baby,” he whines, “c’mon i was out fighting big bad curses all day. jus’ lemme hold—”

“no. just come here, toru,” you insist.

there’s something about it—something about the way your voice is so gentle, so insistent, so knowing. it’s like you can read him more than he can, sometimes. satoru is tired, you can see it, you can feel it. you can’t carry his burdens, but you can hold him while he holds the weight of the world for a night.

maybe it’ll do for now—maybe it’ll even be enough and more.

“what? feelin’ like pampering me today?” he teases, “aren’t i a lucky guy,” he hums—but he climbs into the tub anyway, settling between your legs, leaning his back against your chest as his head falls back against your shoulder.

instantly, two gentle kisses plant themselves against his head, and his eyes flutter shut. he’s starting to feel the beginnings of a headache form—the gentle thump in his skull just barely there, but persistently present.

your thumbs rubs along the sides of his head, enough pressure to soothe the pain like you know it’s coming—he thinks you must.

“you are a lucky guy,” you giggle, “look at me. such a catch.”

he grins, chuckling that boyish chuckle of his freely in your arms as he relaxes. it’s been a while since he’s relaxed, you think—it’s half past midnight and he’ll be up with the sun in a bit to head back to the school, but it’s nice to know he’s relaxed. even just for this short, rare moment.

“oh yeah,” he nods, lips curled into a grin as he cracks an eye open and peers up at you, “s no catch like my pretty ‘lil baby. i’m living it up.”

“glad you know your privileges,” you murmur contently, shaking your head in amusement as you wrap your arms around his body. one hand rubs over his abs—he wants to tease you about feeling him up, wants to make a sly comment about missing his body more than him while he was gone. but there’s something about it, about the way it’s so slow and soothing and soft—it’s so painfully soft, satoru swallows.

finally, he lets his body go slack against yours, sliding down so his head rests against your chest and the water soaks more of his body. it’s warm. the water and your arms. it’s all so, so warm and forgiving.

“aren’t you gonna tell me how lucky you are too? i’ll listen, don’t worry. no interruptions.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, threading fingers through his hair and pulling a soft sigh from him, “wanna know how lucky i am?”

“course,” he murmurs, “well, i already know you’re lucky. it’s me after all—but i’m not opposed to hearing it.”

“how humble of you, satoru,” you snort.

he grins wider—he hasn’t had a chance to smile all day. not properly, at least.

“feel free to start any second,” he says with a wink. then his eyes flutter shut again as your thumb traces his cheek, ever so gently running along the soft angles of his face.

it’s pretty—everything about him is pretty. there are no ugly parts to satoru. just the parts painted from cruel hands. they’re beautiful too, you like to think, in their own, fragile little ways.

“okay,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head, “i’m very lucky,” you murmur into his hair.

he hums, mumbling a quiet, “knew it.”

“lucky i have such a handsome face to greet,” you pepper kisses along his forehead and find his cheek, giving it an affectionate little bite that makes him huff out an amused chuckle. “and he’s so tall too,” you add, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“that all he is?” he pouts, “just a pretty face? you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

“no,” you say quietly, grabbing his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles, “he’s also kind. too kind, sometimes,” you say quietly, “he comes home a bit later than usual every once in a while because he took his students out to eat. he loves them a bit too much, i think.”

“no such thing as too much love,” he hums, squeezing your hand.

you smile, admiring him as he lays against you, small in your hold even with the larger than life weight he carries.

“and he’s strong,” you add, “really strong. it’s not fair sometimes,” you whisper, “he’s got so much on his plate.”

“he handles it fine,” he assures, “he always does.”

“and then he still makes time for little old me,” you say fondly, kissing his shoulder, “never lets me feel lonely. he’s too good to me.”

“there’s no such thing as too good for you,” he gasps offendedly, pouting like you’ve insulted him, “he’s definitely not—”

“and sometimes, he comes home tired. and he tries to act like he’s not because he’s a bit of a prick who doesn’t let me help, but i’m smart and i know him well so i’ve figured it out. and if i’m extra lucky, i might get to hold him for a bit like this and help him relax.”

you squeeze him gently for emphasis, holding him closer as you press your nose into his neck and breathe in his smell. it’s like cologne that’s rudely expensive and that sweet smell only satoru has—it’s all you want to breathe in for the rest of your days.

you hope he’ll allow you that much. something tells you he will.

satoru swallows thickly at that, rubs a thumb over your bare thigh as he rests his free hand over it, the other still in your grasp.

and then, quietly, “maybe he’s fine just coming home to you,” he shrugs, “who can stay tired with such a sweet face waiting at home?”

“i don’t know,” you say thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot to take care of. wonder how he does it.”

“he’s probably the strongest,” he shoots with an easy grin, “sounds like the strongest to me.”

“he is,” you nod, “he’s a lot more than that too. i’m lucky he’s mine.”

“oh yeah?” he drawls—there’s something a little shaky about his voice though.

you choose not to mention it, pressing soft, delicate kisses along his jaw as you murmur, “yeah. he makes me feel really, really lucky. love him so much.”

“love you too,” satoru breathes, “guess we’re both really, really lucky.”

don’t talk to me i don’t want to be perceived. that’s enough softness for a lifetime so the next time i write him he’s getting hit by a bus