#and then i go home and get shit on for my bad memory or wanting to do something for myself

[traumadumpwriter]

JJ Maybank X Reader - Relapse and a Half

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into hard drugs, but they're unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Part One

Part Three

Part Two:

After John B had driven you home that night, he raced back to the Chateau, knowing that JJ would be going crazy. He hoped that nothing had been broken, thinking back on the last time they'd discovered that you were taking pills.

The night had been engraved into the minds of all the Pogues, the way you just suddenly collapsed and wouldn't wake up. The moment of realisation when JJ had emptied out your bag in a panicked rush and six orange pill pots fell out. Pope's hyperventilating as he felt for your pulse and it came back weak. John B's panicked shouting as he watched JJ shove his fingers down your throat. Kie's uncontrollable crying as she called the ambulance.

Then there was the despair that they’d felt watching the ambulance drive away with you inside. The shout that JJ had let out as he smashed through the rotting wooden table on the front porch. The way his hands had bled, his knuckles cut open, and how he’d refused to let Kie clean them, adamant that they needed to get to the hospital immediately. The devastation that they all felt in the waiting room.

It was all they could think about.

Kie and Pope had awoke at the shouting, and whilst Kie was sat solemnly on the porch with her head in her hands, Pope was trying to calm JJ down.

"I can't believe she's back on that shit! I mean what the fuck?" He had shouted, throwing off his cap and aggressively pacing. "And I can't believe she lied to my face like that! To John B's face! I mean, can you guys fucking believe it?"

"She's obviously going through something. If we intervene now we can stop it before it gets bad." Pope said pleadingly, to which JJ scoffed "It's already bad! Trust me man, you didn't see her tonight."

The memory of your wavering posture and slurring tongue snapped at him mockingly, too similar to the times his dad had come home drunk and unable to see straight. It just didn’t make sense to him. You’d spent so many hours together, him holding back your hair as you were sick from withdrawal, you curled up on his lap whilst he reminded you of how strong you were. Why would you want to throw that all away? Had it meant nothing?

"I don't know why you're so shocked, JJ. It's been pretty obvious for weeks now that I think about it. I mean, she's been acting so strange. It all makes sense now." Kie tutted. "You know how addicts are, they lie."

"Does she just not give a shit about herself or something? Why would she put that shit in her body again?" He wondered out loud, and Kie struggled to bite her tongue.

She wasn't sure what had caused her best friend to relapse, but looking at the timeline of her suspicion, it seemed that the blonde might have something to do with it. He was fairly drunk and his shouts were becoming more and more obnoxious, not considering how anyone else might’ve felt about the situation. He only seemed to get worse once John B arrived back; irritated at his best friend trying to defend you.

“Maybe it’s just a little slip up. Okay? Maybe it’s not as bad as last time.” John B protested, but JJ wouldn’t hear any of it, the words going completely over his head as he continued to angrily rant - more to himself than anyone else.

"It's so fucking dumb. The way she lied to my face. It's like she doesn't respect me-"

"Because you've shown her so much respect, haven't you? God, JJ! Would you shut up!" Kie cut him off with some volume, unable to bear the sound of his voice any longer.

JJ looked at her, shocked and offended.

"What the hell are you taking about Kie? What have I done wrong?"

"You treat her like some side piece and you know you do! The way you rub other girls in her face is so disrespectful. It’s like you want her to feel shit!”

He didn't understand. What was Kie talking about? You had never cared about the other girls. You had been the one to make it clear that your sexual relationship was entirely casual. You were far too cool for JJ, way out of his league, and he'd just counted himself as lucky that you liked to have sex with him sometimes. He'd never considered that you cared for anything deeper than that.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He repeated but she just ignored him, picking up her bike and riding home, needing time to think before she reached out to you.

It had been two days since then, and you hadn't left your house. You'd hardly ate and you'd turned your phone off, hiding in your room and sleeping most of the time away. It mortified you to imagine what the Pogues were thinking. They probably hated you now.

You weren't expecting to be woken up by the sound of somebody in your room.

*Your POV*

My sleep was dreamless. A vast, thick blackness that covered me wholly, warm and comforting. It was my favourite way to sleep, no painful reminders of the waking world to bother my subconscious, just soothing nothingness to take my brain away. It was the only break I got from the bad thoughts. Now my shame was too much for even the Xanax to crush - no matter how much I took.

All I could think about was the betrayal on JJ's face as he asked me for the truth, and the lies that I’d spat out at him. I wondered if he or any of the other Pogues had tried to reach out to me, but I was too scared that they hadn't to check. If I turned on my phone and had nothing from any of them, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

The sound of something being dropped near my head woke me up and I groaned, thinking it was my mum trying to get me to eat again.

"I still don't feel good. I'm sorry." I moaned, stretching as I yawned.

"Yeah your mum said you were sick. Wonder how long it'll take for her to catch on that you're using again."

JJ's voice was harsh and unexpected. I shot up straight, looking to the blonde boy with wide eyes. He was crouched down beside my bed digging through my cabinet with careless abandon, my belongings strewn around the room in a way that told me he'd been in here for a little while.

"It's always really nice having to check your friend's pulse, you know, just to make sure they've not almost killed themselves again." He continued in a tone that was dripping with sarcasm. "Is it even enjoyable to you? Living like a corpse? Because I just don't get it."

I didn't know what to say to that, my mind still groggy and confused. All I could mutter out was a quiet "What are you doing here?"

JJ didn't answer me, continuing to dig through my drawer until he finally found what he was looking for.

"Same shit you had to get pumped out your stomach. Nice one Y/N." He eyed the orange pot in his hand with furrowed brows. "And you're almost out, only one left."

It took my brain another few seconds to adjust to what was happening, processing the fact that JJ was ransacking my bedroom and in the process of stealing my pills. He had good reason to be, but it didn’t mean I liked it.

"JJ- I'm sorry." I stammered, watching him slide the pot into his pocket. "I didn't mean to get so fucked up."

"I know you didn't. You didn't mean for us to find out. Good thing I'm not stupid though, huh? Probably would've gotten away with it if I wasn't there. Not for long though, Kie was getting close. And she's pissed."

The thought of my best friend angry sent a shiver down my spine and a pang of guilt into my chest, especially knowing that she was completely right in her anger. How could I fix this mess I’d made? Should I have called Kie? Or would she just shout at me? I couldn’t deal with that.

"I know. I'm sorry. I- I backslid. But I can get clean again-”

“Yeah I know you can. And you’re going to. Whether you like it or not.” JJ cut me off bluntly, finally looking at my face.

He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days, and the crease between his eyebrows was deep set, like a permanent expression of stress. His blue eyes lacked their usual sparkle and his lips were chapped and bitten. I supposed I didn’t look much better.

I opened my mouth to apologise again but he continued to rant at me, his voice getting more aggressive by the word, and it was starting to get under my skin. If it had been anyone else I might’ve been able to take it but the fact that it was JJ - the boy who’d broke my heart without even realising it - just served to frustrate me.

“I just don’t get why you did it. And how you lied to my face like that. Not just to my face- to John B’s too! I mean shit Y/N. Almost a year clean flushed down the drain. How’d you feel about that?”

“Shit, JJ. Okay? I feel like shit.” I hissed, feeling my face heat up.

I knew I deserved the attitude, but I just wished he could’ve been a little softer. I wished he could’ve made me feel less ashamed. I wished he could’ve just held me and loved me.

“And Kie’s got the nerve to say I have something to do with it. I don’t, do I?” He continued as if he hadn’t even heard me, his hand movements becoming exaggerated. All I could do was wonder what exactly Kie had told him, worried that he knew the truth now and clearly didn’t like it. “I mean, the way you’ve been so weird to me is it’s own separate thing. You did this to yourself because of your own issues. Nothing to do with me, right?”

He finally went silent, staring at me as he waited for an answer, his nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily out of his nose. What could I say to him? Was I meant to lie to his face again? I couldn’t do that. I swallowed nervously, my mind racing with different answers, yet I settled on one question, afraid to hear his response but unable to keep it down any more.

“Why did you stop wanting to fuck me?”

JJ’s eyebrows raised incredulously and his anger only seemed to increase. He sucked in his lips with a disapproving sound and looked around the room, running his fingers through his hair stressfully, before turning sharply back to me.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He scoffed. “You’re the one who started acting weird! You stopped wanting to fuck me! Which is fine. I don’t care. But what does me fucking you have to do with this? I don’t get it.”

So Kie hadn’t told him the truth. But it didn’t matter anyway. He didn’t care - not about having me physically - so why would he want me at all? I was just his friend. His selfish, lying, drug addicted friend. And I was hardly even that anymore. Just selfish, lying and drug addicted.

His words had stung so badly despite being so minuscule that all I could think about was neutralising the sting. I didn’t want to be his friend. I couldn’t bare to be his friend. I needed to not care anymore, and I needed it instantly.

“Give me the pot, JJ. It’s just one more pill. It doesn’t matter.”

His eyes widened, like he was mind blown by my response, and he almost spat the next words.

“Are you fucking serious? You said you were getting clean just two minutes ago. What did I say to manage to fuck that up so quickly?”

I opened my mouth to say something - to tell him to shut up - but he continued on, his volume increasing.

“Because it is something to do with me, isn’t it? I tried to convince myself that it’s not, but it clearly is. That’s why you’ve been acting so shitty with me. That’s why Kie got pissed with me. So enlighten me, Y/N! What the fuck have I done wrong?”

My patience had all but run out at that point. My heart was heavy and my head ached. All I could think to do was tell the truth at that point - even though I knew I wouldn’t get the response I wanted from it.

It didn’t matter anymore. I had already ruined everything.

“I like you JJ! God, are you fucking blind? I fucking like you!” I hissed, the words shooting out of my mouth at a hundred miles an hour. “And every time you get with some gorgeous touron it fucking kills me! It makes me feel so worthless in ways you couldn’t even begin to understand! So yeah, I relapsed. I relapsed because I was sick of feeling worthless.. of feeling anything. Now can you give me my fucking pill back?”

If I thought he looked mind blown before, that was nothing compared to his expression now. It resembled one of horror, and my sickness only increased. Then it returned to his previously pissed off one, his lips thinned and his nostrils flared.

A dry, humourless laugh fell from his mouth.

“So it’s my fault? It’s my fault that you did this to yourself? Because you couldn’t just tell me about your stupid schoolgirl crush months ago?”

God, I wanted to disappear so badly.

“Give me my pill, JJ!” I shouted but he acted as if he hadn’t heard me.

“Way to shift the blame much-”

“Give me my pill and fucking leave, JJ!”

“Blaming this shit on me. You sound just like my dad-”

“Give me my fucking pill!”

He finally responded to my words, leaning in close with gritted teeth and lowly hissing “Or what?”

His faces was inches from mine. I’d never seen him look so angry - at a Pogue anyway - and I instinctively flinched away from him. I could feel my eyes getting damp and my bottom lip starting to quiver, and unlike usual I didn’t try to hide it. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Exactly! You can’t do shit!” He scoffed, a taunting smirk pulling at his lips.

“Get the fuck out of my house!”

“I’m leaving, don’t you worry. You fucking junkie. Just turn on your phone so the others know you’re alive.”

He stood up and pulled the pot from his pocket, waving it in my face before putting it back. He even snickered as I reached for it.

“I fucking hate you!” I shouted, picking up one of my pillows and throwing it at him.

“Yep. I hate me too. Join the club.” He spat.

And with that he slammed my bedroom door shut and I was alone again, tears falling down my face and sobs escaping my throat.

The months of wondering if he liked me back had been answered in the worst possible way. Far worse than any of the terrible ways I’d imagined. And it was all my fault.

I felt devastated, wholly and entirely. Not just devastated about JJ, but about the Pogues. There was no way I’d ever be invited back to the Chateau now. He would tell them about everything that had just happened - about how I’d demanded for my Xanax back - and they would hate me for it.

My mum was in my room moments later, wrapping her arms around me and trying to comfort me. She didn’t have any real idea of what had just happened, just that I’d had an argument with JJ, and she knew for a fact that I liked him. She was my mum after all, she could tell.

“It’ll be alright. Whatever you said, he’ll get over it. It’s not like he’s an angel. Lord knows I’ve heard that boy say some pretty mean stuff.”

And I had to just agree with her, unable to tell her the whole truth, unable to even smile as I thought of the times she’d overheard him talking shit and given him a stern look. There was only one answer to my problem now, and it was the exact thing that had created the problem in the first place. I had to go to Barry’s.

“I’m gonna go to Kie’s. Have a girls night.” I sniffled, wiping my face with the sleeve of my jumper. “I’m sorry mum. I just can’t be here right now.”

“That’s alright darling. Do you want me to drive you?” She said softly, sending another pang of guilt into my gut.

“No thanks. I’ll be alright.” I forced a weak smile and she nodded, her face relaxing slightly.

By time I’d showered, gotten dressed and put on some makeup it was getting dark outside which I was actually glad about. Reduced visibility meant that I was less likely to get recognised by anyone on my way, meaning they wouldn’t see the red blotches on my face from crying nor how ugly I looked.

The ride to Barry’s felt the longest it ever had; my head louder than it had been in a long time. I struggled to not start crying again, remembering JJ’s harsh words and how humiliated they made me feel.

When I got to Barry’s, I was relieved once again to see that the house was empty apart from him. A radio played country ballads quietly and the thick scent of weed smoke filled the room.

“What’s up with you party princess? You look like you just got told the worst news of your life.” Was what Barry opened the door with, and I couldn’t even argue with him. I looked like shit.

“Don’t act like you care. I just need to buy some more pills.” I forced a smile as I sat down on his couch, graciously accepting the half smoked joint from his hand.

“Well shit, that’s blunt. Maybe I do care. How would you know?” He scoffed.

“Because I’m not dumb, Barry. Why would you care? I’m sure you’ve got much more important things on your plate than whatever stupid drama I have going on.”

“You’re right I probably do. That don’t make me heartless though. Sucks to see such a pretty girl looking so sad.”

And there it was. All he had said was ‘pretty’ - such a minute compliment, yet I sucked it up like it was oxygen and instantly craved more. My body relaxed slightly and my gut felt a tiny bit less heavy. I let out a dry chuckle, unsure of whether my amusement was real or not.

“That’s sweet. Now can I buy some pills?”

Barry’s chuckle matched mine, also lacking any real humour though a grin painted his face.

“Sure you can. I ain’t got any xans in though. Only Klonopin. That okay?”

I didn’t know much about Klonopin other than that it was stronger than Xanax, and though I would’ve usually probably rejected the offer, it sounded perfect in that moment. I handed him the cash and he handed me the pot, which I instantly opened and took a pill from.

Barry raised an eyebrow, looking amused, and handed me a beer that he’d been nursing. I was quick to finish it.

“These pills cost more, you’re about twenty dollars short.”

“Shit. I can pay you back next week?”

“Don’t worry about it princess. There’s other ways you can pay me back.”

I knew what he meant immediately from the sultry tone he’d adopted, and though I thought to insist on paying him with cash, I didn’t even care enough to. Instead, I walked to his fridge and took out another beer before swallowing down another pill with it. Anything to make me forget about the Pogues.

These pills hit fast and strong and I sunk into the sofa like it were a big embrace from a huge, soft monster. The fibres felt softer than usual and my fingers traced over them with satisfaction, my mind going completely blank other than the thought of how nice the sofa felt.

“So, you wanna talk about what’s been bothering you or?”

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want me. Who cares.” I mumbled.

“Who’s that? One of your boy toys?”

“JJ.”

Barry scoffed.

“Could’ve fooled me. That kid follows you around like a puppy dog.”

I grimaced, blue eyes appearing in my mind, and quickly chugged the rest of my beer.

“Can I have some smoke?”

“Nice of you to ask for once.” He chuckled, handing me the ashtray with a half smoked joint in it.

“You like my attitude, Barry. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“Yeah. Not the only thing I like about you.”

I snorted at that, though I was secretly flattered, any sense of danger quickly dwindling. An hour later and I was struggling to stay awake, my head continuously falling forward until I pulled it back up again, much to Barry’s amusement.

“Let’s get you to bed, princess.” He said to me with a smile, holding out his hand to take. I took it gratefully and followed him to his bedroom, stumbling as I did.

As soon as I saw the bed I flopped onto it, landing on my belly and burying my face in the soft sheets. Like the sofa, every fibre felt soothing and kind, and I momentarily forgot where I was until the sound of Barry’s deep chuckle reached my ears.

“You like the bed?”

“Yeah. It’s nice.” I mumbled in response and he chuckled again.

“You can stay here for as long as you want.”

“Thanks.”

Then I felt his hands on my shorts, his fingers hooking around the waistband and pulling them down without any warning. He pulled them all the way down to my feet until they were no longer attached to my body and then moved a hand to my underwear, groping my thighs and butt as he did.

“No. Barry. I’ll pay in cash. I promise.” I groaned, trying to flip myself over but struggling to do so against his grip.

“But you’re so beautiful.” He whispered in my ear, his hands now moving to untie my halter top. “Your skin is so smooth. Even softer than I imagined. And your ass is just incredible. A real work of art.”

I hesitated for a moment before whispering “Really?”

He hooked his finger into my underwear and pulled them down and I flinched and tried to turn around again, but his other hand flat against my back stopped me from doing so.

“Anyone who doesn’t want you is an idiot, princess.” He answered, closer to my ear than I expected him to be.

He placed a kiss on my neck and I opened my mouth to say no again but only a gasp came out, reacting to the feeling of his fingers suddenly being inside of me.

“Stop-” I tried to say with confidence, but it came out as a mumble.

“Ssh. Sssh. It’s alright baby. Let me look after you.” He said softly and in a moment of realisation I felt all the fight leave my body, disappearing into the darkness of the pillow that was suffocating my view.

There was no point in trying to stop it. It was happening now - thanks to my own stupid decisions - and I had to accept it. At least Barry wanted me, even if his touch felt like an invasive probe, at least someone wanted me.

My consciousness slipped away into a dizzy, warm pool, occasionally re-emerging with a particularly hard thrust or a slap to my arse, but largely un-present. I didn’t know how long he was fucking me for, and at some points I wasn’t even sure if it was real, everything feeling like some bad, confusing dream. The only real thoughts I remembered having were about JJ, and I was glad when they were plucked away.

The next morning I knew that it was real though, my body aching from his touch, and despite my mind’s desperate pleas for me to leave, another pill into my mouth had me sinking into the bed again, grateful for the soothing words that came out of his mouth. I didn’t have the energy to go home and lie to my mum’s face. To tell her about the great night I’d had with Kie when I’d really been in a borderline comatose state with a forceful drug dealer.

Barry brought in breakfast on a tray - a bacon sandwich - and a joint, lighting it for me before placing it in my mouth. It reminded me of the mornings I’d spent with JJ when I’d first gotten sober. How he tried so hard to make me feel better even though I’d done it to myself. I’d done it to myself all over again.

“Morning party princess, you feeling better?” Barry asked with a sincere smile and I shrugged.

I didn’t know what I was feeling. It wasn’t good, but was it better than last night? I couldn’t remember.

“How are you?” I returned, unable to answer the question.

“Well I woke up next to your ass so I’m pretty peachy.”

I couldn’t even crack a false smile at that like I usually would’ve. My heart ached.

“Oh come on darling, life ain’t all that bad. You got anything you need to do today?”

I didn’t even know what day it was.

“No.”

“Well then you can just relax here if you want. Help me weigh up some product. Eat some good food. Smoke some free weed.”

That did sound like an alright plan.

“I’ll cook up some hash browns.”

His offer sounded genuine, laced with care and concern, and it lit a spark of affection within me. I hadn’t been looked after like this in a long time. Not since JJ helped me get sober. Part of me knew that it was wrong, that I hadn’t wanted any of this from Barry and he was forcing it onto me, but the other part of me felt so desperate for love that I couldn’t bare to be alone.

“Okay, okay.” I agreed and then added a “Thank you” before swallowing a pill and then tucking into my sandwich.

He turned on the television before crawling back into bed with me, wrapping his arm loosely around my shoulders and taking drags on his own joint. A basketball game was playing and he seemed extremely invested in it so I didn’t complain, sitting and watching the sports like it was the most interesting thing in the world. I knew that if I was sober I wouldn’t be able to bare the bore of it, but as I smoked and got more high the giggles eventually kicked in and I felt a smile cracking at my face, amused by the enthusiasm of the commentators.

“What you finding so funny?” Barry turned to me and asked with a grin.

“I don’t know. They’re just so into it. It’s a simple way to live I guess.” I answered and he clearly disagreed.

“Ain’t simple. It’s important.”

“Of course you think that.”

I thought he was going to argue, maybe even get offended, but his smile widened and he instead reached out to gently touch my face.

“I like it when you smile. Suits you.” He said sincerely.

He leaned in and kissed me on the lips. The feeling was invasive and uncomfortable and I put my hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him away. The doting expression on his face was quick to turn to confusion.

“Sorry.. I don’t really want to do that right now.” I said sheepishly.

“That’s alright princess, don’t look so scared, I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He smiled and I felt myself relax again.

I was stupid enough to believe him, even though my rear was certainly bruised from what he’d done the previous night. Maybe it wasn’t stupidity, maybe it was desperate naivety. Or maybe I was just high.

It was a short while later that we were sat in his living room on the sofa, a coffee table full of weed and two sets of scales in front of us. We’d been casually chatting whilst weighing and bagging up the weed, passing a joint between each other and paying half attention to the television. I’d almost completely forgotten about the previous night - or at least had pushed it to the back of my mind - and was somewhat enjoying myself. Images of JJ and the Pogues would flash behind my eyes occasionally, but I would just drink a beer or take a drag or eat another pill and they would soon go away. So, by the evening I was quite fucked up again.

A few customers had come by but were quickly hurried away by Barry who could obviously tell I didn’t want to be around them. I found myself quite grateful for his patience even if his lingering stares and light touches did make me uncomfortable. At least somebody wanted me. At least I wasn’t entirely worthless.

Then he tried to kiss me again and I rejected him less kindly this time, a bit too inebriated to remember my manners. The uneasiness that it made me feel had me instantly reaching for my pot of pills, and I didn’t say no when he offered me a drink a few minutes later, expecting him to bring out another beer. Instead he brought out a bottle of vodka and I stupidly said yes to it, not thinking of how spirits mixed with benzodiazepines

I quickly became a mess, unable to see straight or filter any words that came to mind.

It wasn’t long until I’d found myself being lead to Barry’s bed again, thanking him for his comfort and then unexpectedly trying to push him off me until I realised that there was no use. He’d raped me last night and he was going to rape me again, though I didn’t know if I could even call it rape given the fact that I’d put myself in the situation twice now. I’d been asking for it the first time, so the second time I must’ve been begging for it.

He was rougher this time, flipping me over, pulling my hair and even choking me. But I accepted it, trying to convince myself to enjoy it even though he was hurting me.

Eventually, I passed out, my body unable to produce the adrenaline that would usually keep one awake in these situations. And maybe I was thankful for that, or maybe it made it worse. I wasn’t sure. But at least I wasn’t thinking of JJ. At least somebody wanted me.

Let me know if ur liking this! It’s my first obx imagine<3

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

the downside to being a sitcom neighbour sort of person is that when rough things happen and emotionally fuck u up a lil bit, it also sounds completely made up

[fishsticksloser]

Tiny little rant because I'm actually very upset. Please feel free to completely ignore this..

[dbphantom]

you know if you guys voted for stretch armstrong i probably would have shut up a lot sooner tonight

[exopelagic]

auuudggghghhrhrhrbrr

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[713-4th-ward-g]

.

[owlparliament]

social media is a curse and i hate the culture around meeting new friends and it is causing me to hurtle towards another depressive episode 🫶

[balrogballs]

I'm still sad about this heartwarming and mildly amusing little section where feral adolescent Aragorn brings some joy to Maedhros in his unhinged little way, which I had to cut out of Cast in Stone for structural reasons, especially as I had gone to the trouble of illustrating it!

But I realised it reads perfectly fine standalone, so you guys can have my crumb of Maedhros-joy instead. No context required: Maedhros and Maglor are temporarily staying in the Shire during the late Third Age, Maedhros had a horrible night of traumatic dreams and was being maudlin — until young Aragorn, aka Elros II and the bane of his life, turns up like a bad penny, as he often does. Enjoy!

---

"You look unhappy," said Estel, sitting down before Maedhros, legs crossed. "Does your hand hurt? Surely it can't be as bad as when it got chopped off, can it?"

"No, but leave me be, Estel, I have —"

"All right, but let me ask just one question. I promise, then I'll go away. I just remembered something from my lessons, and every time I ask Ada he looks up at the sky and asks the Valar where he went wrong in raising me," Estel moved closer, looking around for eavesdroppers. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But I would like to know."

Maedhros frowned, swallowed the lump in his throat and dragged in a breath. "What?"

"Fingon rescued you on one of those enormous eagles, didn't he? On that mountain with Morgoth and all of that. It was one of those, right? Manwë's Eagles."

"Yes. He did. I do not wish to answer any further questions on the matter, clear off."

"And it was quite a long journey, wasn't it?"

Maedhros grunted.

"I've always had a question about it… and again, you don't have to tell me if it's too traumatising," Estel's eyes shone, as though he were about to hear a state secret. "And I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Spit it out, boy, or leave me now. I am in the mood for neither company nor memory."

"Did it… you know…?"

"If you're trying to ask me if losing the hand hurt, yes it did," Maedhros snapped. "Now leave me alone, I've had enough reminiscing for a damned century. Get off home, now!"

"Oh, shut up, I wasn't asking about your stupid hand, I don't understand why you think everyone sits around thinking about your hand," Estel scowled, pursuing his lips, before deciding his quest for scientific knowledge was more important than whatever had crawled up Maedhros' arsehole and died. He widened his eyes conspiratorily, looked around again. "My question has nothing to do with that! I just wanted to know, did the eagle… you know?"

"Estel, I am not going to repeat this, get out of my sight right this —"

"Did it take a shit?"

"Did… what?"

"Did it take a shit?" Estel flushed as he said the word, Elrond's parental touch finally taking hold, though in a predictably useless manner. "And if it did, how big was it? As in, was it normal bird crap, or was it, you know — like a bucketload of it?"

Maedhros blinked. Estel held his hands out to demonstrate.

"I've always wanted to know that about them, you know," the boy continued, stroking his chin like a philosopher. "Manwe's eagles, that is. Surely if they're big enough to carry two people, one being a towering beast like you, their droppings must be massive."

"What…?" Maedhros couldn't formulate words, a state of being Estel clearly had no familiarity with. "Their… what?"

"And yes, I know they're divine, all of that, but surely they can't be toilet trained, can they? I just don't see Manwë having enough time to toilet train an eagle, you know. Could you imagine just… going about your day, and having this massive tub of birdshite fall on your head? Oh, it could drown a person, I'm sure of it!" Estel grinned, as if said occurrence would be the best day of his life, had it happened to him. "So, did it? And if it did, did you see if it went on someone?"

Maedhros sat there blinking at the boy in complete silence before rising quietly, taking the now-extremely-familiar ear, and slowly — like he were a corpse — leading Estel to the village gate. He didn't say a word, only gestured weakly and put up three fingers, a signal the now sulky boy was very used to.

And as Estel, muttering darkly all the while, neared the completion of his first punishment-lap of three around the village green, he heard something that sounded like a donkey in immense pain. It was a sound so tremendous and unexpected that it brought Maglor running from the house, gaping at the source, having not heard such a thing in centuries. It was no donkey, but Maedhros in complete hysterics, sitting on the ground exactly where he was when he beckoned Estel to run, sobbing with laughter, actual tears pouring down his face, which itself was screwed up and flushed so pink he looked like he'd been badly sunburned. He was trying to explain the situation to Maglor (who had been glaring at Estel as if he had personally killed his brother, and now looked upon him like he was Iluvatar himself) but Maedhros was howling too hard to even stand, let alone form coherent words.

Estel pretended not to notice, and started on his second lap. Though objectively speaking, the laugh itself sounded like something between a foghorn, a pig and whatever noise he imagined Ungoliant would make — there was something rather lovely about it that brought an inexplicable little smile to his face.

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Now playing: if u think i'm pretty - Artemas won't you give that shit a rest? Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[pearlzier]

︵︵ DAY TWO ﹐ OVERSTIMULATION ☆

ᰍִ ꒰ KINKTOBER. ִ✧ㅤㅤ masterlist

NOTES .ᐣ why do i do this to myself LMFAOO im far too busy to be doing kinktober but here we are..... ana makes a decision and regrets it immediately after :3 but haii chris is so fine

WARNINGS .ᐣ overstimulation. oral (f!recieving). dom!chris. sub!reader. afab!reader. breast play. use of pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, babe etc.)

"TASTE SO GOOD, BABY, FUCK," chris had practically been latched onto your cunt the moment he'd walked in and put his bags down—he'd barely given you time to process the fact he was back as he'd spread your legs wide and settled himself between within record time. god, he'd missed the taste of you, it'd been far too long away from it. sure, he missed the feeling of your cunt taking him so perfectly when he fucked you, or the warmth of your mouth when you suckd him off, but nothing compared to making you feel good like this with his head between your thighs.

his excuse was he'd been away from you with matt and nick for about a week. the two of you had obviously phoned, messaged, that kind of thing, but it wasn't enough. chris didn't go away much, he stayed at home more often than not, and being away from you? it took a lot out of him. so he was more than a little desperate to get his hands on you when he'd finally gotten back to the house. and now he was on you again? impossible to get him off.

"shit, chris," it's hard to talk with the rhythmic bumping of chris' nose against your clit, his tongue gliding through your wet folds and lapping up your juices as much as he possibly could. it's like he doesn't even need to breathe, it's insane. he hadn't gone up for air in.. what, a while? it felt like forever. especially for you, considering you're the one getting all the pleasure from it. judging from how he's humping the bed, however, maybe he's getting off on it too. "oh my god," you're lost for damn words.

"such a pretty pussy, mmh, missed this so bad," you're surprised he can talk as fluently as he is with his face pressed up against your warmth. "got withdrawal, y'know? can actually result in death if i don't eat you out at least once every few days," he was a fiend. absolutely obsessed with the taste of you and making you feel good. the death grip on your thighs tells you absolutely everything, this man is living his best life right there and he isn't moving. certified eater, whatever you wanted to call it, but he's between your thighs and you're just gonna have to suck it up and ride it out. "can you breathe?"

he lifts his head a little, "just fine, ma," before he starts kissing and sucking at your clit, completely flooring any plans you'd had of speaking with just a few suckles of his mouth. chris doesn't care about getting messy, how your juices trickle down his chin and the way his lips get a little puffy from working so hard, he'd do this over and over again just to see you happy. his soft moans send vibrations through you, starting at your clit in his mouth before running up your body in a burst of warmth.

it's when he starts circling your entrance with his fingers that you actually realise how long the two of you are gonna be here. you'd wondered whether this was just gonna be foreplay and he'd ease his cock inside of you soon enough but the introduction of his fingers met he was gonna be entertaining himself with you a lot longer than you'd thought. not that you mind, you're just as here for it as he is. "chris," you let out, a whiny sound, when he finally pushes his fingers into you with a little thrust forward.

he looks up at you, then, his blue eyes dilated to the point of being near black, all the while paying attention to your sensitive bundle of nerves whilst his fingers slowly ease inside of you. "so fuckin' wet, baby. all for me? shit, musta' missed me so much.." he's not even paying attention to how his fingers start to thrust in and out of you, it's all muscle memory by now. he's done this whole thing so many times with you he could do it with his eyes closed, with one hand, whatever you wanted.

"missed you so bad," you whisper, shamelessly sliding your hand upwards on your chest under your shirt to grasp your tit in your hand, rolling your fingers over your nipples as you knead the soft flesh. chris groans at the sight of that, only urging him to keep going. his fingers curl upwards towards that sweet spot inside you, brushing up against it and making the purposeful motion of rubbing against it with every movement. your fingers tighten around your nipples, and you cry out a soft sound, hips instinctively bucking towards his face.

"keep playing with your tits f'me, baby," chris mumbles into your pussy, his lips wet and slick with your arousal as he runs his tongue over you. "that's it.. makin' me jealous, honey, might have t'pay attention t'em in a second." you squeeze your breasts together, thumbs rolling over your hard buds and making your cunt pulse as chris continues eating you out. "m'gonna.." you could feel your orgasm hurtling itself towards you, not sneaking up on you, no, it wanted you to know it was coming. the wet squelch of his fingers pumping in and out of you, curled against your sweet spot, it makes your head spin.

"gonna come all over my face?" chris asks, only lapping at you in sloppier, messy motions. "gonna make a mess for me? go on then, sweetheart, there we go," he growls, and the vibrations manage to send you over the edge, your thighs trembling around his face and squeezing him there so he wouldn't move away. not that he'd dream of it, anyway, but just a precaution. "taste so good, soaking my face," you'd expect chris to move away from your oozing pussy once he'd helped you through your orgasm, but he's not deterred by suffocating in your juices, he only keeps going.

"chris, i—" you go to speak, to tell him you need a moment, but he gives you a tight squeeze of your ass and a few rougher pumps of his fingers to tell you that, well—"m'not finished, baby, so you gotta wait till m'done," he wasn't finished with you, there was no time to lose, he had to pull another orgasm out of you again, and again, and again. he was making up for his time away from you, after all. so, he kept going.

"too much, too.." you gasp, the familiar feeling of an orgasm building up once more. your head's spinning a little, fuzzy from your first climax blending into the upcoming second one. "you can give me another one, right, babe? c'mon, i ain't asking for much, just another one," he wants to feel your cunt twitch in his mouth, your sticky pussy against his face after coming for him a million times over. he's not asking for much, right? "gonna give me another one," he tells you, like he's already decided.

you're whining, bottom lip quivering as he continued his assault on your cunt. "feels too good, i can't.." you don't know whether you could take any more after this, coming a second time seemed like enough. you're subconsciously grinding yourself against his face, which makes chris smile. "sayin' you can't take anymore but you're fuckin' yourself on my face, huh? you lyin' to me?"

"not lying, no, no.. just.." another whine escapes you when he laughs, a mixture of embarrassment and the feel of the vibration causing you to let out that sweet sound. chris was relentless, he wouldn't stop until he had you trembling due to him once again. "s'gonna happen again, m'gonna come, shit, shit, shit—" his fingers curl further, and he starts to lick around your fluttering hole where his fingers are to get you over that edge once more.

"come for me, baby, there we go, wasn't hard, was it? you could take more. can take more," he rambles, moving away from you for a moment to give you some much needed reprieve. his tongue makes gentle circles against your inner thigh now, something to occupy him as your thighs shook and you recovered from your second orgasm within the span of a few minutes. but, he's not satisfied for long. "you ready?"

"ready for what..?" you ask, voice a little breathy and weak from how spent you were. your eyes meet his, hands grasping at your tits still almost in comfort, and chris scoffs quietly at your question as if it was dumb to ask. "you're gonna come on my tongue 'n' fingers again, and then m'gonna fuck you on my cock. so hold on tight, would you?"

yeah, you were gonna be here for a while.

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @bbittenapples, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @fallbhind, @beausling, @eternaldecisions, @httqvi, @gibson-g1rl, @zayluvss, @angelssdreamss, @gxldenlush ִ ꒱

[artbiter]

wolf in sheep's clothing

art donaldson/reader nsfw summary: art falls for you first yet patrick gets the fortune of having you. what else is art supposed to do but play dirty? tags: stanford!art, stanford reader too, art is a borderline homewrecker, art donaldson is a SNAKE, patrick gets cucked right under his nose </3, oral, slight body worship, TBH idk note: hi this is my first time writing ff since .. 2021 .. and this is definitely a diff style from the ao3-approach i usually take to writing but please enjoy i really like art donaldson i really like challengers and i really like art taking what he wants (and i really like mike faist in blonde curls)

art donaldson is not a homewrecker, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his chance with you.

he first meets you at one of his games, eyes flitting over the crowd and panting hard after a rather close singles win, before his gaze is magnetically drawn to your pretty face in the bleachers. smiling with your friends, you look so happy to just be watching this game, and when you make eye contact with art you wave excitedly like he's a celebrity, and whisper to your friends after he salutes back with a grin, trying to catch the breath your gorgeous smile has knocked out of him.

he wants to find you so bad after, and so he does. your friends are tennis groupies, hanging behind to flirt with any guy with a racket in hand, but you're just there for moral support. he chases after you just before you leave, just to say hi. an innocuous greeting and thanks for your support. and he sees how jealous your friends are that you tag along once with them and immediately get picked up by art freaking donaldson, but you seem to be oblivious, beaming at him and clasping your hands to your chest. you tell him he was great out there, that you've never "gotten" tennis but that you can feel he's a pro anyway. you part ways and he can't stop thinking about you.

when he tells patrick that he's met the prettiest girl he's ever seen at one of his matches, patrick thinks it's endearing and the epitome of dumb puppy love.

"did you even get her name? or were you just drooling over her?"

"nah, that would've been weird... right? oh shit, should i have? i was trying to be normal about it, i don't know." art beats himself up for not even picking up on your name in conversation, and resolves to seek out your identity and ask you out.

so when he finally has the fortune of seeing you again at a party, he's heartbroken when you smile and wave to patrick in tow.

"patrick!" you laugh and bound up to the pair. "didn't take you as a stanford party type of guy."

"i'm a plus one tonight. lucky i ran into you, huh?" patrick is eye-fucking you and doesn't even try to hide it, and art feels like doubling over in pure grief.

patrick notices but says nothing, only introducing you to art. "yeah, i'm here with my buddy art." he slaps art on the back lightly and art finds out that you and patrick met at another party before this. he remembers you from patrick's anecdotes over lunch, where patrick wouldn't shut up about the hottest chick he's ever seen who wouldn't go home with him, but has been texting ever since.

some other girl, presumably one of your friends, attaches herself to art's arm for the rest of the night, but he can't bring himself to notice or care when patrick kisses you and you lean into it.

patrick got to you first, and art hates himself for it. he won't admit it, but he feels the resentment festering inside of him as soon as patrick announces it's official.

the next best course of action for art is to play the best friend role, obviously. except like the unassuming snake art is, he's going to be your best friend, too.

he's your puppy, waiting on your beck and call — whatever you need, he's got it. your bio homework is impossible? sure, you can copy his. you got no sleep last night? he has your regular order from your favorite café committed to memory. patrick's being such a bad boyfriend? oh, tell him all about it.

"he's so inconsiderate," you whine, slumping over your pillow. "can you believe he forgot our six months? and when i brought it up, he didn't even say sorry. he was just, like, 'i didn't know we were still in high school.' i wanted to die, art, really."

art clicks his tongue in sympathy, criss-crossed on your dorm floor and nodding along to your laments. "no, he's definitely wrong here. i'm sorry he forgot something so important." for good measure, he adds in, "guys should be looking out for their girlfriends all the time. i'd be celebrating monthly anniversaries if i had a girl."

"ugh, right? i thought so, too." you flop back onto your bed, turning your head to gaze at art. he thinks you're so beautiful like this, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, bare faced with tears tinging your eyes. "you're a good guy. i don't know why you don't just date."

he doesn't want to date anyone if it isn't you, but he doesn't say this.

art watches you and patrick continue for another few rocky months, marked by arguments spawned from patrick's chronic nonchalance and your sensitivity to his perceived lack of care. and art gets the full report from both sides; patrick tells him all the time about how he's really trying to make you happy and support you, but he doesn't see why you value such small things. and you cry to art, sobbing that patrick never takes you out anymore if it isn't to fuck, that patrick is too friendly to other girls. art thinks to himself that patrick doesn't deserve you, but he rubs small circles on your back and reassures you that you need to do what's right for yourself.

(he's elated when you don't remove yourself from his touch.)

when you finally break it off with patrick, he hears it from his best friend first.

"dude, she dumped me." patrick's voice buzzes over the phone. "not gonna lie, i saw this one coming. but i thought i was doing good, seriously. fuck, what am i gonna do?"

"i'm sorry, man," art sympathizes before he hears a knock on his door. "yeah, it really does suck. take a breather for a few days. i'm sorry, but i really have to go right now." he peeks into the peephole and sees you standing outside. "let's talk more later?"

patrick is still rambling on the other end, but art hangs up and opens the door for you to immediately come spilling.

"art, i broke up with him. i really couldn't do it anymore." you tell art more things he already knows, like that you liked patrick a lot but you were just uncompatible in the end, and that you wished he listened. as always, art feeds into you, agreeing with your every word. something deep inside art tells him it's wrong to coax his best friend's girlfriend into breaking up with him, and that he's messed up for offering you his support when patrick technically should come first. but when you look up at art through wet eyelashes, sniffling and yearning for comfort, who is he to deny you?

art cups your face gently and presses his lips to yours. he doesn't miss how your eyes widen, but you don't jerk away. his heart pounds in his chest as he holds the small of your back with one hand while the other caresses your cheek. you smell so clean and warm, and your lips are so soft art wonders how patrick could ever give you up without a fight. it solidifies art's need for you, that if patrick won't make you happy, he will.

when you pull away from him, you're breathless, voice barely above a whisper. "art, i don't think we should—"

he can't contain himself from kissing your neck, relishing the soft, smooth expanse, inhaling your scent so deep into his lungs he finds it oxygen. "tell me you don't want this." he laps at your jaw, sucking light bruises onto the sides of your throat. "tell me you don't want me to treat you the way you should be, and i'll stop."

you moan his name involuntarily, and art takes it as the green light to carry you to his bed and kisses back up to your lips. "i'm sorry," he murmurs into your skin. "i'm sorry. i want you so bad."

"then show me," you sigh softly, hands rooting themselves into his blonde curls as his tongue probes your mouth.

like you even had to ask.

tugging down your sweatpants and feeling like coming just as the sight of your underwear, art immediately tears it off of you. he latches himself to your cunt, already weeping, and he looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. "already so wet for me, baby?"

"mmf..." your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tighten their grip as you push his head forward, and he obliges.

he licks wide stripes, feeling you convulse and twitch every time his tongue comes in contact with your clit. his dick throbs in his pants just from eating you out.

"you taste so sweet. fuck, you're delicious," he pants, making out with your pussy like it's your lips. "don't know how i survived this long without you."

you buck your hips up into his mouth, mewling and spasming as he suckles and licks at just the right places. your cunt is soaked, but neither of you can tell whether it's from your arousal or how much art is slobbering over your pussy. "right there," you squeak out, a hot wave washing over your body as you cum on art's face.

and fuck, art almosts busts on the spot with you. his mouth doesn't cease, swirling patterns all over your vulva, grazing over your clit, dipping his tongue inside of you as you lock your legs around his head desperately.

"too much, too much!" you feebly try to pull his head up from your cunt, but he's so addicted to your taste he barely notices how sensitive you are now, how your clit twitches and aches for a break.

art can only laugh softly as he pulls himself back up to you, kissing you gently as his hands roam underneath your shirt and to your bra clasp.

"mm, you're so good," you gasp into art's mouth as his kiss becomes sloppier. "so good to me, art."

"it's what you deserve," he mumbles back, unhooking your bra and clumsily pulling your shirt off so your tits spill free. and even art is admired by his own self-restraint, just staring at your perfect body on display for him. he's been dreaming of this day for months now, jerking himself off late at night to thoughts of you sucking his cock, to pictures of you smiling on his phone, to the memory of your voice the day he met you. it's so wrong of him to fuck his best friend's ex fresh after the split, but why do you feel so right beneath him? "i've been waiting for this," he whispers into your neck. "been wanting to show you how much i want you. want to make you feel good. want to treat you so much better."

"fuck me, art, please," you beg him, relenting and palming at his boxers. you're so fucking easy, letting him touch you like this and being compliant as he undresses you, kisses you all over, shrugs his boxers off as you help him position his cock right at your entrance. it's not your fault that art has been nothing but kind and gentle to you. it's not your fault that he's been flirting with you since day 1, and now all his desires have culminated into head of a lifetime. and art finally has what he wants now: you.

and even when he barely pushes the tip in, he wants to cum inside of you so badly he feels dizzy. "so fucking tight, i'm gonna cum, gonna cum right now," he gasps in your ear as he unsheathes himself, stretching your warm, tight hole. "so perfect, holy shit. fucking made for me, baby, you feel so—" he can't stop himself from rutting into you, and he just about comes undone when he hears his name tumble from your lips in pained moans. it takes all the self-control in the world for art to not pour himself into your wet heat right now.

"slow down, art, fuck, you're so big," you sob, clawing at his back. he wishes he could fuck you nice and slow, the way he always envisioned his first time with you would be. he'd fantasized about nights with you full of languid strokes, making you scream his name with calculated, intentional thrusts straight to the spongy patch buried within you. but art is just a humble man, and when your walls, silky and warm, are choking his dick, he can't resist fucking into you like a jackhammer. you cry, moaning uncontrollably as your hands clutch tightly at him, letting his cock ruin you.

art's head goes fuzzy, and all he knows now is your pussy trying to milk him dry and that he can't say anything coherent besides strings of guttural moans telling you how warm, how tight, how good you feel on his dick, how your sweet cunt was made for him, how beautiful you look and sound at his mercy, how he wants you to be his so bad and that he'll do anything for you to be his. that his only regret is not claiming you first.

you keep crooning in his ear, honeyed moans that intoxicate him dizzier and dizzier as you tell him that he can have you. with a few more stutters of his hips, and a convulsing squeeze from your walls onto his cock, his head falls into the crook of your neck as he pulls out and shoots ropes all over your stomach, right as you cry out his name uncontrllably, heaving beneath him. a low, resounding grunt rips from his throat while his seed paints your abdomen, and he feels you shiver upon the warmth touching your skin.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again like the gentleman he is. his breath still heaves at an uneven rhythm, staggering as he attempts to regain his composure, but every time his eyes fall upon you it feels like he wants to go for round 2. "i'll clean you up, pretty girl. you were so perfect." he presses his forehead to yours, sweaty and damp, and whispers, "you were made for me."

some sick sense of pride fills art from head to toe as your body trembles in an attempt to catch your breath, your hair disheveled and lips puffy, patches of skin blooming pink and red from art essentially making out with every inch of your body. and you blush when you catch him staring, covering your face and murmuring for him to come back to bed.

he did this to you. he made you such a picturesque image of ruined perfection, splayed out on his bed and stained with his cum, pleading for his embrace.

patrick would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands.

[daphwritesworld]

#23 A. Russo— all to you. 

content: face sitting(A receiving), thigh riding (r receiving), scissoring, lots of kissing lol, fingering (r receiving), kinda public sex(only for a short flashback), lovey-dovey type shit, top!Alessia, bottom!reader

warnings: bathroom sex in a flashback, Alessia humping your face should get its own warning so there you go, hitting your knee like an idiot, talks of marriage, Alessia in a "kiss the cook" apron lol

synopsis: After spending two months away in The States with your family– you’re finally flying back home to England. To your Alessia.

word count: 4.6k

!! MINORS DNI!! 18+ CONTENT

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The sunrise bleeding in through the cracked blinds is what you notice first. The little beams of light interrupt the first real night of sleep you’ve gotten in the past two months. You’ve been away visiting your family. Two months usually wouldn’t have been that bad…if you were in the same time zone. keyword: ‘if.’

Going back to the States wasn’t bad— you love it back home. Being so close to your family, old friends, old stomping grounds, the completely different scenery, and the nostalgic restaurants all hold a special place in your heart. You’d of course enjoyed yourself on the trip, but nothing can compare to the longing of wanting to be back in Alessia’s arms. The days spent away were counted down in matching pocket calendars– one for you and the other for your girlfriend. Little notes of encouragement, inside jokes, and love poured out onto each date you’d be separated. You both decided to write them for each other and switch at the airport before you boarded your flight, promising not to look until the next day to check a box off. 

The day you came back to her finally arrived yesterday. She’d waited at the airport with her family, a cheesy sign with your name written on it and balloons attached. As soon as they saw you it was screams and hollers. Alessia moving so fast you felt her before you even had time to lift your head to their greeting. You let out a small yelp as she hoisted you into the air, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you secured against her. Your hands cupped her cheeks and you leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips, pulling away after a couple of seconds— much to your girlfriend’s dismay. She pouts at you before trying to chase after your lips again, this time being met with your hand and a whispered shout, “Alessia Russo, I am not letting you shove your tongue down my throat with your family 15 feet away!”

She rolled her eyes at that, setting your feet back on the ground before latching her arms back around you. Pulling you closer to her as a small smile broke out across her lips, “Oh, but you’ll let me finger you in the bathroom at Christmas, is that it?” 

Your cheeks heat up instantly at the mention of the memory. Alessia had invited you over for Christmas with her family three years ago (when you two were “just friends”). You’d been left all alone in England since your flight was canceled due to bad weather, nowhere else but your empty apartment to go. And she couldn’t let such a pretty girl stay alone on such a joyful holiday, so she called her mom and made sure there was a plate set at the table long before she’d even convinced you to come that night. You’d both been dancing around each other for months: flirting, nicknames, and basically eye fucking at practice, but so so oblivious to the other’s intentions. But two glasses of Advocaat and some hanging mistletoe is all it takes for her to get you in the bathroom of her childhood home. One hand covered your mouth as the other fucked three fingers into your pussy, while the sounds of Christmas music and living room chatter drowned out to the both of you in your own world.

Before you can reprimand her with more than a soft whack to the shoulder, her brothers are running over to wrap you in a hug and telling their sister to stop “hogging the favorite.” her parents wrapped you up in a hug, too. Telling you how miserable and grumpy Alessia had been since you’d left.

“I-I was not!”

 You just smiled at the sounds of her siblings and her arguing as you all walked your way out. So happy to finally be back where you belong. Your real home– right here with your Alessia. You felt her hand slip into yours as you approached the doors. You said your goodbyes and promised to visit soon before she was leading you off to the car. The entire ride home was spent telling her all about your months spent back in The States. The phone calls when one of you would stay up late or wake up super early just to speak for an hour or less didn’t do enough justice. Her hand rested on your thigh the entire way, rubbing circles and little patterns into your skin as you spoke. She could listen to you all day, just happy to finally hear your voice in person and not through a speaker or her headphones. They could never pick up the true essence of your laugh or the crinkle in your nose when you do. 

Now in the comfort of your own bed, your hands search out across the sheets on instinct— a frown gracing your features as you feel the cold bed beneath your fingertips. You crack your eyes open, blinking a few times as they adjust to the daylight. You stretch your arms out as you sit up, the cold breeze through the house lighting goosebumps across your skin. You shiver as you hop off the bed, reaching down for Alessia’s oversized shirt that was thrown to the floor the previous night. The memories come flooding back in flashes as you slip it over your head. Your freshly hardened nipples sensitive to the material as it brushes against them. 

You barely had time to get through the front door before she had you pressed up against it. The way her lips were glued to your sweet spots, her hands gripping every part of you they touched, and how you two stumbled up the stairs because you wouldn’t pull away from making out on the way to your bedroom. The candles lit around the space, the pink and white rose petals sprinkled across the duvet, and the way she kissed her way down your whole body as she tore your panties off with a loud rip. She never was very patient...especially when it comes to your pussy.  

You flash back to the present as the smell of bacon hints in your nose. Your feet move and your stomach rumbles as you quietly make your way downstairs. Seeing Alessia in her “kiss the cook” apron, making a tray of food for you. It almost has you sneaking back up into bed so she could surprise you, but the growling monster in your stomach wins as you slowly come up behind her, wrapping your arms around the taller girl. 

“no no no! I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed,” she whines with a pout on her lips as she turns around to face you. Her hands resting on your hips as yours go to wrap around her neck, pulling her down for a morning kiss.

“There, that fixed your face!” you say as you pat her cheek before stealing a piece of bacon from behind her on the counter. 

“I’m serious, Amore mio! I wanted to treat you today after being away for so long.” 

“You still can though, Baby,” you say as she sits you up on the counter beside her as she cooks. “Don’t gotta get your knickers in a twist,” the awful British accent leaves your lips with a giggle as you swing your foot to hit her on the butt. 

She puts her spatula down to bring her fingertips to your sides, tickling you relentlessly as you squirm around laughing loudly. The tears welling up in your eyes a clear sign of not being able to escape her assault, “Okay! Okay! St-Stop! I’m sorry, Less– I’m sorry!” 

She pulls you into her chest, arms wrapping around your middle and stepping between your knees. The big smile on her face never falters as she just rests her forehead against yours, taking this intimate moment in and soaking it up for all it’s worth. Her eyes are scanning across your face, and you wish in times like these you could read her pretty mind. Just wanting a glimpse into what’s behind those crystal blue eyes that enchant you every time they gaze into yours. 

“How’d you manage to get even more gorgeous whilst away?” It’s barely above a whisper when she says it, her hands coming up to lightly trace over your face. Her fingers run across your cheeks, lips, and jaw. It’s all too much for you at the moment, so overwhelmed with love for her. So you lean forward and place your lips on hers, and it takes both of your breaths away. It’s different than the ones you shared last night. There’s no urgency in your movements and no harshness behind them. Her tongue slides into your mouth when you gasp from the way she lightly nips at your bottom lip, still moving at a slow pace. The smell of burning food breaks you back into reality a bit, trying to pull away as she chases your lips closely.

“The food, Alessia,” you manage to get the words out between kisses, never fully able to get her lips off of yours completely.

She groans out into your mouth before backing away, turning off the stove eye, and moving the pan to rest on a cold one. She doesn’t even say anything before she brings a hand behind your neck to pull your mouth back onto hers. The fire in your belly is roaring, begging for her touch and to touch her. 

“Mmm, upstairs,” It’s not a question when you say it. She supports your middle with her arms before hoisting you off the counter, your legs wrapping around her waist on instinct as she carries you to your destination. 

When she reaches the bed there’s no throwing you down, and clawing your clothes off. She’s connecting your lips as she slowly lays you down on the sheets, following your body with her own. A hand comes up to caress the back of your neck as she deepens the kiss. Your knees spread for her body to align with yours like a puzzle piece, fitting together perfectly and in rhythm with one another. The hand behind your neck starts slipping around front, keeping a loose hold on your neck as she pulls back just enough so you can both breathe for a second. 

“Please fuck me, Baby,” it comes out airy and breathless as your chest rises and falls rapidly. 

“No.” 

You feel like your world’s crashing down. No? Did she tell you…No? Like as in N-O.. no?

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” she says it while holding your face in her hands. You think she’s being cruel, punishing you for a stupid joke accent, or the fact you woke up early and spoiled her surprise for you. Pulling you back into a mind-reeling kiss, and desperately searching for a reason she’d tease you and wind you up like this just to leave you high and dry. 

“I’m gonna make love to you,” your eyes snap up to her. Mind quieting and drowning out all your worries and complaints. Your breath hitches as she says it and you swear your heart swells up twice its size. “Let me show you how much I missed you, Amore mio.” 

You’re nodding your head as a quiet moan rolls off your tongue at her words, connecting your lips once again as her hands start rubbing up your sides. They slip under your (really her) shirt draped over you, the only thing separating her from your naked body. Goosebumps rise behind in the path of her hands, your skin feeling electric from her touch. She moves down your body as she gets up on her knees, untying her apron and throwing it somewhere into the room. She’s lifting your shirt as she peels it off your body. Her lips leave kisses in the journey up as your flesh is being revealed. She nips a little harder on your soft spots, leaving behind love bites in her wake. Little reminders of where she’d been and how her love poured out of her and onto your skin. When the shirt is being brought over your head and blocking your view, she brings one of your nipples into her mouth. Your hands go to the back of her head to bring her closer to your chest, arching into her mouth. The pleasure only multiplies when she laughs around your bud, pulling back as you whine out from the feeling. 

“Move your hands for a second, Love. Lemme get this off you,” there are kisses left on your boobs as she says it. Taking your hands into hers as she places them beside your head, and leans down slowly to almost connect your lips. But she just hovers over them for a second, breathing in the same air as each other. She pulls back with a smirk when you try to push yourself up, and then she slips the shirt over your head, throwing it back to its home on the floor of your bedroom. 

Her lips are on your collarbone as she slips a knee between your legs, resting against your naked pussy. Wet kisses are tracing back down to your other nipple this time. The warmth of her mouth around it is intoxicating, your tits extra sensitive since they’d been neglected for so long. She looks up at your face once she notices your body has a mind of its own, grinding up against her thigh as sinful sounds flow from your mouth. Another laugh rips through her, and to both of your surprise, it sends you into an orgasm. Not a super hard or intense one, but still enough to have your eyes closing and your legs trying to close around hers. 

Alessia looks down and groans loudly at the sight. Your creamy cunt making a mess on her sweatpants, some white cum streaking the grey fabric along with the giant wet stain taking up a majority of her thigh. 

She’s entranced by the sight, jumping when she feels your hands on her neck. You’re pulling her into a searing kiss as her hand comes up to play with your messy pussy. “No, Less. Wanna make you feel good, too. Please baby,” you break the kiss as your hand stops hers. 

“How do you want me then?” 

“Wanna taste you, please.” 

So she hops off the bed and strips herself naked, but you don’t expect her to push you back down as she climbs up onto your body. Usually, she’d just guide your head with a hand in your hair against her cunt, but not today. Oh no. Today she’s resting her knees beside your head as she massages your scalp for a second. 

“Ready, Love?” 

“Hurry up and sit on my fucking face!”

She laughs out a cackle a that, a true hearty laugh. Then she’s sinking down onto your awaiting mouth, resting her weight down onto your face. You swear you could die right now between her legs, and they’d find you with a smile on your face. The taste of her sets off a primal moan to take over you, your eyes rolling back as she grinds down onto your tongue. Alessia always makes the prettiest noises while getting fucked, you could spend hours pleasuring her body and you’d cum just from the sounds she makes alone. Her hands find your hair as yours find her thighs, both squeezing and holding on for dear life as she speeds up her movements. The beds starting to squeak, reminiscent of how she knocked the headboard into the wall last night and left a small indention. 

Your hands move up from her thighs to her tits, rolling her nipples between your fingers as her clit starts humping repeatedly into your nose. Every one of your senses is overwhelmed with just “Alessia” as you take your tongue and start fucking her with it, drunk off the idea of getting her to cum like this. The view is breathtaking above you; Alessia with her head thrown back, back arching as your hands work magic on her chest, and her toned stomach flexing with every roll of her hips above you. 

It’s then when you moan again into her pussy that she’s cumming in your mouth, letting the nastiest words roll off her tongue, “La mia piccola troia, swallow it all! Take what I give you Carino mio.”

Wanting to please her, you make sure to suck up every drop that comes out of her. Your tongue slips out of her to clean up, an extra flick to her clit as you finish. She’s pulling away after that, flopping onto the bed beside you trying to catch her breath. One arm pulls you onto her chest, placing a kiss on your hairline as she rubs your bare back. “You did so good for me, Love. Made me feel so fucking good. Better than anyone ever has  .”

​​

You lift your head at that, a blush on your cheeks from her words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Baby,” It’s let out with a smile gracing her lips and a twinkle in her eye. She’s throwing her head to the side with a loud sigh after a moment, “Fuck you’re so pretty! I can never get enough of you, you know”

You sit up at this, straddling her lap as you swing a leg over her. Taking both of her hands into yours as you interlock them, and bringing them up for a tender kiss to her knuckles. “You’re prettier, Lessie. A worldwide splendida ragazza.” you were praying you didn’t butcher the pronunciation, having spent those two months away studying Italian every night. 

You see tears welling up in her eyes and you instantly frown, opening your mouth to apologize for upsetting her. “I’m sorry, Less. I thought I could learn it-” but you’re cut off by her soft lips on yours. All the emotions and pent-up frustrations from missing each other poured into this one shared kiss. 

“Ti amo, Amore mio bellissimos.” She says it right against your lips, a few of her tears running down between your lips. The saltiness only adds to the passion of the lip lock. “Ti amo tanto,” you reply to her. As you’re lifting one of her legs and slipping one of yours beneath it, you drop your cunt against hers. Both of you let out a moan at the sudden contact. Alessia’s hands find your hips as she starts guiding your movements, controlling your body because she knows it better than you do. Your fingers couldn’t make you cum while you were away, nothing could. Because she has ruined you for anybody else, your pleasure is only loyal to her now. “Look at us, Amore mio. Look how messy we make each other. How much we love and miss each other.”

You look between you, the way both of your thighs are covered in slick. Your puffy clits bump together with every roll of your hips. You feel too far away from her, even though you’re so close. So your hands reach out and pull her closer, lips finding one another again. They’re red, swollen, and sore at this point, but neither of you cares. Too lost in each other to even register the slight pain. 

Your legs start getting tired as your orgasm approaches, slowing down as the pain of that at least catches up with you. Alessia notices and pulls away from your lips, “Wrap your arms around me, Love.” And you do it without question, no idea why she wants you to, but trusting her completely anyway. 

Within seconds you’re squealing as she flips you two over on the mattress, blonde hair cascading down to frame her face perfectly. You swear with the sunlight shining in she looks like a proper angel, a halo surrounding her head in the morning daze. Her hands lift and situate your body exactly how she wants it. She’s got her hips slamming back into yours in no time, the sound of skin slapping and the words of praise passing between the two of you fills up the room. Your arms are around her neck pulling her down to be chest to chest with you, just wanting her to suffocate you honestly. If you could crawl into her skin you would, but alas this is the closest you’ll ever get. You swear you can feel your hearts beat in synch like this, the thumping of your them so loud in your chests it’s making your body tingle. Her hands find your hips, rubbing circles into them as a way to ground you. Her lips leave kisses up the side of your neck, stopping to nip at your jaw. 

“Cum for me, Love.” her lips trail down to your ear, letting out a groan as she tugs on your earlobe with her teeth, “La moglie futura mia.”

Finally understanding the term of endearment is what does it for you. You’d heard her call you that a million times and never thought of it, having slipped your mind with all the other nicknames she gives you. Your legs start shaking and your grip on her neck tightens, making sure she stays pressed against you the whole time. “My Future Wife,” replays in your head over and over as the pleasure from your orgasm wrecks through your body. Screams of “Te Amo!” “I love you” and “Less” all come out mixed as the wires in your brain start crossing the two languages and the girl who speaks them.

You can’t stop the butterflies from exploding in your tummy as you realize she said that to you for the first time at her family’s Christmas all those years ago. That’s how she’d introduced you to them as they welcomed you both in the door, a big grin on her face. “This is, (y/n). La moglie future mia.” Now all the hugs and promises to return each year as you two were leaving make a little more sense.

She doesn’t stop her hips, chasing her own high as she feels it approaching. “Come on,” she rubs her hands on your forearms gently, “Let me see your pretty face when I cum, Darlin.” You whine a little at the thought of her pulling away, but nonetheless let her guide your arms away. She reconnects your hands together and lays them above you, eyes focusing on the way your mouths open and panting for her. The sweat dripping down your brow and all the small details in your face show off the way she’s making you feel. All of it’s rolling in her stomach, the pit of fire growing by the second. 

“Cum for me,” it’s breathless as you say it, her eyes instantly finding yours. “La moglie futura mia,” it’s a sentiment that you’re only now able to return. The weight of the words and the fact you spoke them back to her is overwhelming. Her hips stutter into yours, and her eyes shut as she crashes her lips back down onto yours. Moaning into your mouth as her orgasm washes over her, rolling in waves as she slows her pace to a stop. 

For a while you’re both just lying there, her head on your chest and your fingers playing in her hair. The sounds of you both trying to regain a normal breathing pattern is slowly trying to lull you to sleep. So at peace in the comfortable silence and the safety of having Alessia in your arms– exactly where she should be. She lifts her head up, trailing some kisses down before resting her chin on your stomach. “Can I bring your tray of food to you in bed now?” 

It’s all really a blur till then for you. Your body is so so tired, your eyes getting heavier as the minutes tick by. You’re almost fully asleep by the time she comes back, only responding to her in grunts and hums. She chuckles at you as she moves your body to sit up against the headboard, propping a pillow behind you for extra comfort.

 “Alright, at least eat your toast or drink some juice. Your body needs some energy after that,” It’s soft when she says it. Her lips press feather-light kisses to your face as your eyes start to crack open. She’s got that damn apron on again and you shake your head at that, a laugh bubbling out of your lips. Your Alessia– butt naked except for her “Kiss The Cook” apron wrapped around her body. The tray placed over your legs takes your attention next. Despite being sleepy you are super hungry, even more than when you first ventured downstairs to steal a piece of bacon. You shake your head in agreement before reaching towards your plate, but your fingers hit something velvety on the edge of the tray stopping you. You focus your eyes a bit, squinting till the sun adjusts for your sight, and that’s when you see it. The small blue box is set right before your plate. Your heart rate picks up and you look over at Alessia with a confused look on your face. 

“Open it, Caro.” She says it with so much endearment you can’t help but smile. 

When you open it up it’s a beautiful ring. A gold band adorned with the gemstone of your birth month. Your eyes widen at the gesture, tears filling them before you turn to face your girlfriend. She’s wiping them away with her fingers, reaching down to take your hands into hers.

“Marry me, (y/n). It doesn’t have to be now, in a year, or even five. Just promise me that you’ll be la mogile futura mia.”

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Less!” You’re gasping and jumping up– right before your knees hit the tray you forgot about and you’re letting out a cry of pain from the commotion. Your hands come up to hide your face, a blush deepening as embarrassment sets in. “Shit! That seriously fucking hurt!” 

You’re only met with a laugh and her hands pulling yours away from your face. You look back at her when you feel the ring being slipped onto your finger, her eyes never leaving yours as she does so. “Looks like you’re inheriting the Russo family clumsiness already, Love.” 

She takes a second to move the tray of food off of the bed before returning. Her lips come down, kissing your knees where they’d been hurt as she rubs soothing shapes into your calves. Once she’s satisfied with her work she moves back up and throws her body on top of yours, wrapping your limbs around each other as the reality starts to set in: You’re engaged to be married. 

“I can’t believe we’re gonna be a family, Less!” it’s a whispered shout– the excitement doubling as you bring your hand towards your face to get another look at your ring. But before you can tell her how beautiful the ring is, she’s cupping your face and pulling it closer to hers. Her eyes render you speechless, looking into yours like the galaxy is hidden inside them. “We’ve been a family for a while now, Vita mia. I’m only just now growing the nerve to make it official.”

[bee-wg]

PROLOGUE:

Our family isn’t too big. Ever since my grandparents moved to their cottage by the lake, It's just been the three of us. I don't even bring my teammates or friends home. And all the peacefulness is about to change. 

“Ahh Shit- Sorry!” the fumbling buffoon said. 

“Language, sweetheart. David! Could you help him pick it up? I'm tidying up the kitchen,” My mom replied. 

“Coming!” My dad sprints down the stairs. 

“Oh, Pumpkin, you're all grown up! Are you prepared for the semester?” Dad gestured to the culinary tools scattered across the floor. 

“Yes, of course. Sorry about the mess,” he replied. The “Pumpkin” in question is my cousin, Theo. He's about to attend a college in the city to study culinary arts… or something. And, of course, he’s sharing the room with me. Not for long, though. I have a few buddies who have invited me to share a room with them. They reek, but it's a necessary evil. 

“Jay,” my dad asked, nudging me, “Remember when you guys used to play house together every summer?” 

“Yes, then he bit me and we never talked again,” I deadpanned. 

“Oh come on, he was just a kid,” Dad retorted. 

No, he wasn't. He was a little demon that stole my pretend credit card. My hand still itches thinking about that vicious attack. 

I put down Theo’s luggage and bit back the argument. “I'll go back to the car to see what’s left.” 

“Alright bud, thanks for the help.”

“No problem.” He could probably thank me by asking what happened at football camp, but what do I know? It's not like we haven't talked about football the entire summer. We could be doing that right now, on the deck with some ice-cold beer. But the twinky little “Pumpkin” needs help, and I have the muscle for it. 

God, I wish the summer was over already.

***

“Hahahaha Exactly! I have never seen Chloé like that before.” Dad laughed.

“Right? Who knew mom had sass in her.”

Mom's competitiveness was kicked off by Theo's presence. The kitchen has basically been a war zone for the past two weeks.

Looking down at my watch, the light flashes on.

6 kilometres down, 5 more to go.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a good morning run with Dad like this one. The ocean breeze flowing past my hair and the faint rays of sunrise brought back some old memories. 

Regulating my breathing, we slowed down for a second.

“Damn, son - your stamina has gotten so much better this past year.”

“The football camp really made you put up 20 pounds of pure muscles too, I’m glad I recommended you there.” Dad beamed proudly at me.

“You’re not too bad yourself, for an aging old man.”

I still get the same rush every time he compliments me. It’s like a reassurance that I’m doing something right.

“Hahahaha, you won’t be saying that when you’re one foot in your 40s; it’s basically death by fossilization.”

Dad has always been modest with his body, but everyone who knows him either admires his body, wants him, or is jealous of him and I am the same. Ever since high school I’ve been inspired to be like him. Even with the 15 pounds of muscle I have over him, I’m still lacking in so many ways. He just has the confidence to own it.

“Want some water?”

“Oh, right, of course. Thanks.” I took over the ice-cold bottle.

“About that training camp, I should request the school board to have the team register next summer for the training course. High school kids these days don't care about sports as much no more.” Dad said

“Speaking of which, remember your friend Lancaster who got held back for two years?”

“Yeah, Avery. He used to scold me when I didn’t take the nutrition classes with him. Haven’t hung with him in a while though.”

“Well, he probably won’t scold anymore. The kid got too cocky after getting a full sports scholarship and gained 70 pounds of fat in the summer. The university probably revoked the funds. Hope he didn't take it too hard.”

“Shit, that’s awful. I didn’t expect it to be him out of anyone. He was a damn good receiver.”

We resumed the pace, avoiding some rogue cyclists on the way.

Crazy to think the weight could creep up on Avery Lancaster of all people. I should watch out for myself too. I have good genes from dad so it probably will never happen, but the new influx of delicious food from Theo and my mom’s little competition definitely doesn’t help. At least it keeps the brat out of my room.

“Dad, I think I’m not going to move in with Brad and the guys.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” 

“Well first of all, as much as I love them, the guys stinks. Second of all, Theo is not as much of a blood-sucking gremlin as he was before. And I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye to you guys.”

“Plus, How can I leave when the thing with mom just got interesting.”

“Staying for the family drama, huh?” He chuckled.

“We’re happy to have you for as long as you want, Jay. Truth be told, your mom has been crying about it for weeks. We’re both not ready to say goodbye too.”

“Tell you what, Chloe and Theo probably have some fancy lasagnas waiting for us back home; let's cut through the forest and head back early to celebrate.” He said, practically drooling.

“Lasagnas for breakfast?”

“Wait, You just want the Lasagnas. Don’t you?”

“Hahaha, Maybe.”

“Well, don’t get too drawn in, or you’ll end up as Hansel in the candy house.” 

He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

That would be funny to imagine though, cause Dad is anything but a glutton.

Chapter 1 ->

[yuri-is-online]

And in With the New (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, their ex is implied to be kind of a shit person, other dorms can be found here (x) Ortho is somewhat included in Idia's part but does not have one of his own.

Kalim- "Do you have any other things from your world?"

Kalim has expressed a desire for you to see as much of Twisted Wonderland as possible, and he stands by that, but it would really suck if the only physical connection you had to your home was something that brought up painful memories. Your past relationship isn't something that makes him jealous, just concerned since it clearly causes you distress. He can wait to get you more appropriate clothing until after he makes sure you're ok. If the sweatshirt really is the only thing you have from home, he'll be asking if there are any foods you remember or activities you liked to do with the people you actually cared about that the two of you can recreate in Twisted Wonderland. That way you won't have to feel the need to hold onto something painful and he gets to make you happy.

Jamil- "Then why didn't you get rid of it before you came here?"

On the one hand he does feel a bit second rate at the thought of you holding onto something form an ex, but his primary concern is the implication that your financial straights have always been this... dire. He definitely wants to know about your previous relationship so he can judge them for how much better he is, but once he notices that the memories are a bit on the traumatic side he stops pushing and feels just the slightest bit guilty. But really, if it's something that hurts you to hold onto then why do it? You aren't him, you don't need to do that, people love you and want to take care of you, him included. He's not going to just give you his hoodie, he would literally die of embarrassment, but he does get you a sweatshirt. If for no other reason than to keep him from staring holes into your back now that he knows where the other one came from.

Vil- "It doesn't suit you at all."

If his treatment of Epel is anything to go by, Vil is not above spending money on something he considers to be a pet project. Not that this... friendship is one of those, nor is he particularly jealous of some no name extra who was too blind to beg on their hands and knees to get back in your good graces. Not that he needs to do that you understand; as arrogant as Vil has a reputation for being, he is one of the people who has been more genuine when expressing concern and gratitude for you. His comment isn't meant to be a slight, clothing that makes you feel bad about yourself is failing to do its job as fashion, and as a world class super model that is unacceptable. In other words get in the car looser we're going shopping.

Rook- "Ah, I thought it was something like that."

Is it bad if he says he meant he hoped it was something like that? Not that he was rooting for your ex to be a bad person, he would never wish a subpar lover on you. But when he saw the tattered edges of your sweatshirt and how it clashed with the things you bought for yourself, he hoped that maybe someone in your world hadn't wanted your hands to be cold. If that's not the case, then if you are ok with letting it go as a lover of romance who is he to deny you your freedom? Granted tossing roses onto a fire while you burn an ugly sweatshirt is both very extra and very Rook but hey. He's having fun and you've got a new jacket.

Epel- "Afford shamford I could'a just made ya one!"

Offering their sweetheart their hoodie is something manly tall guys get to do and Epel has really really REALLY. Been looking forward to getting to that point in his relationship with you. He wants to feel like a real man, like your real man to be specific. The thought of some other piece of shit getting to do that first and treating you like a used dish rag pisses him off. Best believe he is huffing and puffing his way back to Grandma Felmier's boot camp with a mission to do you one and your ex two better by knitting you a pullover to go with your uniform. Everything that comes from Harveston is a top quality product prefect, better than whatever you left behind he guarantees it.

Idia- "So this is that kind of route huh..."

Of course you had a partner back in your world, if he can see your good points then a normie absolutely could. That doesn't make you less appealing, it just makes him feel all that more convinced he doesn't have a chance. He's halfway through whipping out his tablet to excuse himself when Ortho asks what you meant by "shitty memories" and they both get blindsided by just how much vitriol you have for a person whose clothing you technically kept on you. And suddenly he's back in business because there are few things that unite Idia with someone faster than a good old fashion bitch fest. Sure, his insults are weirdly possessive of you, but if he had any doubts about your feelings for this person he doesn't now! He's never heard you talk about anyone like this before and he finds it so attractive he almost forgets to short circuit when Ortho convinces you to try on his hoodie. Almost.

Malleus- "..."

Sometimes he feels like a broken record, constantly marveling at how little fear you have of him, but really child of man, you have no fear. Malleus has very little in the way of emotional intelligence, so he doesn't fully understand that what he is feeling is jealousy he just knows the thought of you with someone else's clothes hurts. Unfortunately for you both, in addition to not being emotionally intelligent he also isn't with the times and there is a non zero percent chance he will be bringing you a cloak and be genuinely confused when you don't immediately replace your old hide for his. (Lilia takes responsibility for that, he was making a joke honest.) Oh? The point was it's supposed to be something he wore so you can feel closer to him when he's gone? Well why didn't you say so child of man, he is more than willing to offer you a scale- what do you mean you can't wear that either?

Lilia- "Oh? Are you asking for one of mine?"

Shame has not been a word in Lilia's vocabulary since long before you showed up prefect. He always buys oversized clothing because of how cute the long sleeves look on him, but oh they would be so much cuter on you prefect, don't you want to see? Oh and while the two of you are at it, why don't you let him paint your nails and do your eye shadow. He's never had one of those slumber party things you humans do, you should make a night of this so you can both get a new experience out of this. He can have a slumber party and you can be the center of someone's world. Also what do you mean you're supposed to summon the devil at these things, he's already here.

Silver- "Would you like one of mine?"

Lilia raised a very good boy who thinks nothing of offering the shirt off his back to save someone in distress. Silver isn't a jealous person by nature, he's more concerned with making sure you are safe and taken care of than he is making sure you don't still have feelings for your ex. Above all else, Silver wants to be a safe space for you to come home to at the end of the day, like a proper knight in shining armor. Though he does have to admit, you look really nice in Diasomnia colors, they're really close to Briar Valley's so if you decide to come and visit he's assures you that you will fit right in. He's sure his father would be very happy to play host. Maybe too happy.

Sebek- "HOW UTTERLY DISGRACEFUL."

You think he's upset at you but he's not, that's made painfully clear with the rant he starts to go on about proper courtship procedure. Offering clothing to someone is supposed to be a sign of high affection, nay eternal devotion! And it suddenly becomes clear to you that Sebek has somehow managed to confuse the concept of a stolen hoodie and a knight's favor. He seems to have managed to convince himself, in the span of two seconds, that you are wearing this not because it is one of your only pieces of clothing, but because your ex convinced you that they're the only one who could love you which IS NOT TRUE. YOU UNDERSTAND HUMAN? DO YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAAND?

[goddamnitmahtin]

Jason is a Teenage Dad

Woke up to see my phone open to my notes app and all it says on it is:

Jason is a Teenage Dad

- Jason is 15 and fucking dies.

- Clockwork shenanigans

- Jason drags his body out of the Lazarus

- Meets the eyes of a 3 year old Danny playing with the Joker’s decapitated head.

- Jason takes the child home. It is his now.

So, obviously, I gotta write about it. Enjoy this post based on the vision of delirious 4 am me.

……………….

Clockwork was bored. You would think the ability to see everything everywhere all at once would be overwhelming but it’s actually boring. There’s no suspense when you always know what’s going to happen. But that was all part of his job as the Ancient of time.

Every universe was scripted out. Each one was slightly different from the last, but it still had the same major things in there. For instance, there was always a Gotham in every universe. Sometimes the city itself, sometimes a comic book about the place as if it were fictional. The same with Amity Park except that one universe made it an anime instead of a kids show which was…. A choice.

Most of the time Clockwork just had to make sure that catalyst events happened no matter what the timeline. Like the adoption of Jason Todd. Or the death of Danny Fenton. The meteor that killed the dinosaurs. Stuff like that. Universes that didn’t have enough catalyst events like that tended to implode on themselves if some new event didn’t take its place.

Clockwork was looking at a universe at the moment that was definitely close to being expired. Could he let it happen? Sure. He could. But that wouldn’t have been much fun to watch.

In the universe he was looking at currently, Danny Fenton has all but disappeared at least according to the locals of Amity Park. Which wasn’t that bad. Easily fixable. However the much larger problem was that Jason Todd just died the wrong way. In most universes where his death took place, it always happened that same way as it was a catalyst event for that universe. Jason gets beat up by the joker and then dies in an explosion. Then he gets revived and healed by some assassins in a pit of really fucked up ecto. Standard procedure.

However in the universe Clockwork was looking at, Jason died due to the crowbar. There was no bomb. Infact, Batman didn’t even arrive to the scene until much later than he did in every other universe. The strangest part though, was that after killing Jason Todd, the Joker threw him into the Lazarus himself. There was no downtime or buffer. This kid was going to be alive again by the end of the week and unless Clockwork did some timeline adjustments, it was enough that the entire universe was inevitably going to fall apart.

Obviously fixing it wouldn’t be hard to do. If he did it the easy way. To rewrite Jason’s death. But that was kind of boring. So, Clockwork had a better idea.

…

Jason gasped suddenly and he felt liquid enter his lungs. He opened his eyes to see green. All around him. Shit, if he inhaled anymore liquid he could drown. So he started to try to swim towards what he thought was the surface. His body felt odd and disconnected from his brain making it hard to move but he kept going. He had to keep going. He didn’t want to die.

Finally, he felt his hand break the surface and latch onto a ledge. He pulled himself out of the green glowing Lazarus, trying to cough up as much liquid as possible.

Memories started to flood back to him. The fight. His mom. The Joker. The fucking crowbar. And most notably, no Batman. Batman never came. He was going to kill B for that.

Jason took a few deep breaths and let himself look around. His eyes immediately locked onto a child. Looked to be about 3. Pale with black hair and blue eyes. The boy was sitting with his legs crossed, covered in blood. He was playing with… something?

Jason couldn’t help but worry for the kid, hoping he did t fall into the pit. It was a dangerous place to be especially alone. Jason sat up to get a better look.

The moment he did, he saw the toddler’s eyes dart right into his own, the blue overpowered by a sudden glow of green. Lazarus green. A look of fear ran over the boy’s face as he froze in place.

Jason felt something in his chest churn, almost as if he could feel the fear dripping off of the child. He didn’t want to scare him. He didn’t want to hurt him. He wanted to get them both somewhere a bit more safe.

Jason stared at the boy, trying to not look menacing. He wanted him to know he could trust him. He felt whatever that new something inside his chest was also try to reach out. Jason didn’t notice when his own eyes turned green, but he did notice that the boy’s attitude shifted very quickly.

The toddler’s eyes went back to blue as the look of fear mostly washed out of his face. There was still some apprehension but it seemed that the two of them had silently come to an agreement of sorts that they were not enemies at least.

Jason looked down from the boy’s eyes and into his hands and whatever animosity Jason had within him was completely washed away. This kid had been through something horrific. In the toddler’s small arms was the decapitated and now decaying head of the Joker. Jason’s murderer.

Jason suddenly felt like this child in front of him was more important than anything else. Whatever he had gone through to land him in this place with that head was fucking over. Jason was going to protect this kid until the day he fucking died. Again. This child had gone through unimaginable things and Jason inherently knew that even though he knew nothing about this kid’s story, he was was going to be one of the very few who could really understand what he was going through.

“What is your name?” he asked as softly as he could.

The boy quietly responded in almost a whisper, “Danny.”

This kid was his kid now. To hell with wherever he came from. Jason was now a dad.

…

Bruce was distraught. Devastated. Completely inconsolable. Jason, his son, was dead. The Joker had confirmed it with a video of him laughing over the dead body. That was a week ago now. Bruce didn’t know what to do. He failed Jason. He wasn’t there when he should have. He couldn’t save him.

He had gotten delayed when he found out where Jason had gone and tried to go after him when a kid he’d seen at a few galas before, Tim was dropped out of the sky landing right on top of him with a post it note safety pinned to his back. He ignored it at the time as he was a little preoccupied.

After he got up again after the initial shock and realized it was just a kid, he tried to calm the nerves of young Tim who described watching his die and then being teleported into the sky and dropped. There was a chance that if Batman’s body hadn’t cushioned the fall, he would have been seriously injured.

He knew he couldn’t leave the young kid there by himself. And he knew that he had to find Jason. He didn’t want to bring him along either but the boy insisted that he wanted to come. Was it smart? No. Did he end up bringing Tim with him? Well yes. He was running out of time after all.

But Batman didn’t make it. The place was empty except for the dead body of Jason’s mother and a lot more blood that was undoubtedly his son’s.

Bruce was currently lying in his bed. He hadn’t gone out to do anything except for patrols. It was the only thing he could focus on. It was the the only thing he could bring himself to do. Bruce Wayne had the time to grieve for Jason Todd. Batman on the other hand did not have that. He had to remain vigilant and consistent. More importantly he had to find the Joker and send him away for killing Jason. Which would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t completely disappeared.

Bruce stared at the nightstand. It had the post it note that Tim had on his back when he fell. He had read it hundreds of times. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was just more proof that Jason was dead.

He took the post it note from the nightstand and read it again, hoping it was different. It was not.

Take this kid home. He’s Robin now :)

…

Tim didn’t really know what to do. His plans had come to fruition much faster than he had anticipated. After watching g his parents die, he had sworn to himself that he would find Bruce Wayne, the Batman, and convince him to let him help fight the evil of the city. But he didn’t expect that the moment he made that decision he would he plucked off his feet by unseen hands and then suddenly dropped from the sky.

That was over a week ago. Now, he was sitting on a large sofa in Wayne Manor. He was thinking. All he really had time to do was think. He had seen his first crime scene at Batman’s side and afterwards was brought back to the manor. He was left alone. He hadn’t seen Bruce hardly at all.

He wanted to do more. Go out and help with something. Anything. But Alfred wouldn’t let him go anywhere. So all he could do was think.

Did anything that had happened since his parent died make any sense? No. Joker deviated from his MO. But why? It was so different than anyone would have expected. There was no spectacle or epic battle with the Batman. He was just gone with a dead body behind. Nothing else.

And that was AFTER Tim was teleported into the middle of the sky. If he just had more resources, maybe a computer or some books that he could dive into to, he could figure it out. There had to be SOME reason. Right? But he had already checked the books in the manor library and Alfred wouldn’t let him into the poorly hidden Batcave. He only had his own thoughts.

He would grieve his parents with that time but he could also just as easily do that later. Besides, he had already decided he was going to become a vigilante and help the Batman. And most importantly, there was a puzzle in front of him that he wanted to solve more.

…

Jason knocked on the door the manor. He was nervous to see B again. Since according to newspapers he had been gone for a week. He knew his dad was gonna be mad that he went to see his mom. And mad he was gone so long. Jason knew he was going to get chewed out for it but he just wanted to be home. Especially since he was going to need help raising Danny. He didn’t know how adoption worked and Jason was only 15 but he was sure B knew how to do all that.

Danny was currently in his arms. He was so small compared to Jason now. Before he had died, he was wasn’t nearly this big. Jason had muscle sure but he was still relatively lean. Now, Jason was built more like a brick house. His shoulders were wider than a typical doorway and he was much taller, at least 6’4.

Danny was sleeping at the moment. He still had the Jokers head in his arms. He hadn’t been able to convince the kid to let it go. Which was fine. Jason didn’t really know what to do with it anyways.

Some shuffling was heard and then the door opened. Alfred was staring back at him.

“Hey sorry I was gone,” Jason said, not really sure what else to say.

Alfred looked from Jason to Danny to Jason, double take on Danny. His face was hard to read. Jason was kind of nervous.

Alfred stepped out of the doorway. Behind him was B.

“Jason!?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

Part 2