#but i also know that he’ll be gone for three weeks and then he won’t even be a human for another 5-7 days after he gets back

[honey-tongued-devil]

Got a request: Jinx x Piltover reader who comes to the undercity a lot to see some action and excitement with Jinx thinking they’re from there only to find out that they’re from topside.

[Arcane preference zaunites] with a s/o from Piltover (viktor, ekko, silco, vander, jinx, vi, sevika)

In less than a week, I’ve gained 500 followers and over 20 requests, so I’ll ask you right away to please be patient. English isn’t my first language, and I don’t think I’ll be able to post more than two or three headcanons a week (since I also draw). I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I just ask for a little patience. In the meantime, if you’d like to support me, you can follow me HERE (bluesky) even though I haven’t started posting seriously yet, or you can leave a tip HERE. That said, enjoy!

Viktor:

- The most versatile on the subject. He’s the first one who is constantly around the people of Piltover, studying and having his room at the academy, which is even located in a wealthy area.

- Generally, he doesn’t pay much attention to someone’s origins, but as the relationship grows more serious, memories of his early academy years become more vivid.

- Viktor is a chill guy, until he’s no longer chill, (at least the original one).

- Most heated discussions are likely to revolve around politics or events in the city. But as long as you don’t call the people from the Undercity “beasts,” “creatures,” “monsters,” “beings,” or “animals,” his anger won’t be directed at you.

- At some point, he won’t remember anymore that you’re from “different neighborhoods,” and since he needs a hand carrying things to the academy, he’ll start asking you to accompany him to the Undercity when he needs to make purchases or pick up pre-ordered items.

- And although it might scare or intimidate you at first, it won’t take long for you to get used to it.

- Although sooner or later, you’ll learn to change your clothes before going down to Zaun.

Ekko:

- The first meeting with Ekko is straight out of a book: you get caught in a crossfire, and before you can even begin mentally writing your will, an arm grabs you around the torso and pulls you away at such a high speed that you feel like throwing up.

- He can’t take people directly to the hideout, but he can offer you assistance as soon as you’re somewhere safer.

- This is why, the second time he saves you, he can’t help but joke about how it almost seems like you put yourself in danger on purpose, and that you could ask him out in a less dramatic way.

- Of course, he’s just joking to break the tension, but when you actually propose it, even just as a way to repay him, it’s the beginning of the end.

- Between your outfit and the fact that, having run into you twice in a crossfire, you were in some pretty dangerous places, the last thing he expected was for you to ask him to meet up at the bridge and then show up dressed like a Piltie.

- Before his meeting with Cait and the one with Jayce, this would’ve been a breaking point; he wouldn’t have shown up and would’ve just gone back. But now, even if he’s not thrilled, he’ll at least come over to complain that you didn’t tell him you were from the upper city.

- He’s resigned to this fate, but he still remains a bit suspicious and on guard, not knowing your political stance, why you were down there, or how you see the people from his city.

- Even as you become closer, he’ll never stop teasing you about your background. You’re drinking, and you drop your cup? “What a strange way Pilties have of drinking.”

Vander:

- Going down to Zaun without stopping by the Last Drop is a waste, which is why you’re lucky enough to run into the Hound of the underground right away. Not only is he one of the most influential people, but also one with a lot of connections.

- At Vander’s suggestion, you stay at the counter, and he uses the opportunity to ask you a few questions, curious: for example, why is someone from Piltover down in Zaun alone at that hour? What do you study, if you study, or what do you do for work, if you work.

- Vander is extremely sociable, and since he handles negotiations, he doesn’t hold hostility toward upper-city residents, though it’s rare to see them in these parts.

- It’s not even about flirting; he just wants to keep chatting and make sure he won’t have you on his conscience. He asks you to wait until closing, checks in on the kids to make sure everything’s okay and says goodnight, then walks you to the bridge.

- The more regular your visits to Zaun become, the more the other regulars at the Last Drop start to recognize you and get used to you, making that place quite pleasant. And then there’s the deal with the bartender: if you offer him a good chat, he’ll treat you to a good pint of beer.

- The toughest part of getting close to Vander is learning that he’s a single father to four kids, and seeing the hostile and shocked reaction of the younger ones when they find out you’re not from their city.

- But hate is taught, and even if it takes some time, they slowly start to get used to you. Maybe they won’t jump into your arms, but if you decide to stay over, they’ll make room for you or bring you something to dry your face with, in strict silence.

Silco:

- This man, though he may not look like it, is the embodiment of patience.

- It’s his goons who bring you to his office, and the first time, all it takes is a quick glance for him to know you’re not a spy, a rival, a drug addict, or a threat.

- Silco kills, but generally not without reason. So, the first time you have a heart-pounding panic attack from being dragged there, you get off with a warning: if they catch you poking around his business again, it won’t go so well for you.

- But today, Janna’s on your side, and you’re safe.

- The issue is much simpler than it seems: if you live in the Undercity, you know which places to avoid and which gangs control which areas. But if you’re just a foolish Piltie who likes wandering outside your own city, the odds of ending up in one mess after another are high.

- That’s why, the second time they catch you near one of their shipments, his goons already have their weapons drawn.

- This time it’s not even Silco who spares you; instead, a firefight with the Firelights breaks out nearby, and you’re just lucky that bigger problems show up at the right moment.

- It happens repeatedly: either you run into his goons and instinctively wave like an idiot, or you end up in restricted areas, and one of them who’s taken a liking to you motions for you to leave, or you start frequenting the Last Drop and see them all more often.

- Gradually, this brings you more often—and with less dread—to the kingpin’s office, who, since even his daughter likes you, first makes sure to get you a map of the Lanes because “you’re obviously so clueless you must be from Piltover” to keep you from getting yourself killed.

- Then he realizes you’re pleasant enough to let you hang out in his office on weekends, when the noise downstairs is so loud that he couldn’t work anyway.

Jinx:

- You’re essentially the “dumb Piltie” stereotype that comes to mind when people in Zaun talk about those from the upper city.

- Deciding to venture into the alleys without any experience or knowledge of the area purely out of curiosity wasn’t your brightest idea, but at this point, it’s too late to turn back.

- That’s why, after hours spent looking for something interesting—colorful explosions that have been common recently near the docks, some chase scenes—you find nothing, give up, and throw yourself into a bar.

- If it were evening, you might hope for more than just a jukebox playing country music, four young guys playing pool in a corner, and a girl sitting at the bar who looks half-asleep while the bartender cleans glasses, but you still decide to sit down and order something local.

- Everyone’s eyes are on you, but the moment the girl with long blue braids lifts her head, the others snap back to what they were doing, and she looks at you, still drowsy and a bit confused.

- Meeting Jinx is the beginning of the end; she rambles on, is relaxed, and the moment she hears you wanted action, she jumps off her stool and drags you out before you can even sip your drink.

- She has no particular reason—it's just rare to find someone who wants to have fun, although you quickly realize that her idea of “fun” involves risking your neck.

- The first time ends like that; you don’t even exchange names. When it gets late, she vanishes, leaving you no choice but to return to the bar in the following weeks, where you meet her again and pick up on that fun “tour.”

- This “tour” brings you closer, even if you never talk about deeply personal things because there’s never time.

- It’s one night when you’re sitting together on a rooftop, watching the distant lights of Piltover, that she learns the hard truth: you’re from the other side of the river. This single piece of information seems to destroy everything you had built. Without a word, she runs off, and you don’t find her at the bar at the usual time anymore, but you don’t stop trying.

- The bartender probably tells her, or she sees you, who knows, because weeks later you meet again, and she almost looks sad to see you.

- She expected you to give up, not to keep coming back despite how difficult she’d made it, which is why when you pull her into a hug, she stiffens, taking a while to hug you back.

- The closer you get, the more she becomes like a ghost. You even find her at your place, but you never see her on the streets in Piltover. She rarely stays over, but you know it’s because of personal issues.

Vi:

- Vi isn’t for everyone: she’s for those with a “savior complex” or hotheads who can take a couple of punches to the face.

- The reason you’re in Zaun, dressed incognito, is because your colleagues told you there’s some interesting stuff in the underground city’s shops.

- What you didn’t expect was that the “interesting find” curled up behind an abandoned building would be a person.

- Nothing too serious, just a brawl gone wrong. She’d hidden to tend to her wounds in peace, probably in that vulnerable “cornered wolf showing its teeth” state.

- Cooperation isn’t her strong suit, and, not to rely on Undercity stereotypes, but you imagine it’s also rare for anyone to help strangers wounded on the street.

- She becomes more docile after you simply stand by, “covering her back”—basically just staying put and shielding her from view. 

- whenyou blurt out, “Forget gin; I need something stronger.” she starts to like you

- Once she recovers, she gestures for you to follow her, suddenly motivated by the urge to drink. Surprisingly, she takes you over the bridge to your own city, to a cozy pub that smells of wood.

- Drinking there becomes a habit; after a few drinks, you tell her you hate that the evening has to end, and she chuckles, flattered, before saying you can always do it again.

- And you do it again.

- You keep doing it until you end up kissing clumsily in the pub’s restroom, nearly knocking heads together, until she pins you to the wall and your brain signals a warning.

- You tell her you live nearby, suggesting you take things to your place, unknowingly revealing something you thought was obvious.

- She stares at you for a few confused seconds. “You didn’t tell me,” she says, but the truth is, Vi doesn’t hate upper-city people, so once the confusion passes, the alcohol and hormones work their magic, leaving that conversation as a problem for the next morning.

Sevika:

- Her only interactions with people from the upper city have been with Enforcers, but contrary to appearances, Sevika is a big, intimidating dog that’s actually quite tame.

- She doesn’t get her hands dirty unless necessary, so even though she has no fondness for Pilties, she’d never start a physical fight with one.

- You first see her in the Undercity, at the Last Drop, playing cards for a hefty sum of money against two shady types: one bald with a metal nose, and the other dressed like an out-of-place gentleman.

- It’s only when the game ends and she gets up to head to the bar that you clumsily manage to strike up a conversation, receiving nothing but a scrutinizing glance in return.

- She lets you buy her a drink despite the large sum she just pocketed, and when you compliment her on her play, she puffs up with pride and starts talking about how those two just cheated but still couldn’t win.

- For a moment—just a moment—she realizes she’s never seen you around here before, but then she goes back to talking and listening, fueled by the alcohol.

- Getting her out of your head becomes impossible, and if you catch her at the end of her shift, she’s even more relaxed. It doesn’t take many weeks before you find yourself with your knees over her shoulders in the Last Drop’s basement.

- Emotional or mental intimacy with Sevika comes at an incredibly slow pace, but she starts approaching you in the bar, and your “private encounters” become more and more frequent—until you try to make things more serious by inviting her up.

- Her reaction seems angry, but it’s more surprise; she hadn’t realized and didn’t expect it.

- She becomes a lot more guarded around you, until, in time, she learns to trust you again.

[glitterdisposition]

i litcherally can’t stop crying what the FUCK is wrong with me

[jensengirl83]

Unexpected Arrival

Dean x reader

Word Count-3490

Warnings- SMUT, fluff, language, sub!Dean

Summary- Dean thinks Y/N will be gone for a few more days on a hunt. What will she find when she comes back early to surprise him?

A/N- This fills the square "What happened to your hair?" for @jacklesversebingo. Also, a big thank you to my amazing beta @pink-sparkly-witch. Thank you for the encouragement and great feedback on my fics.

This has been on my Patreon for a few weeks. If you'd like to join and get access to my ficus weeks before they come to Tumblr, you can join my Patreon here. I have multiple tiers with different perks starting at $3 a month!

Y/N was exhausted. She’d been on a hunt for over a week that should’ve taken three days. All she wanted now was to get back to the bunker, back to Dean. It had been one of the few times they had hunted separately, and she’d missed him terribly. He and Sam had been out on their own hunt because she had wanted to take a slight break, but that changed when another hunter called, needing help to eliminate a werewolf pack. So, that’s why she was now tired, frustrated, and wanting nothing more than a hot shower and cuddling with her boyfriend. 

The closer Y/N got to the bunker, the more her tension seemed to ebb away. As the miles raced away under her tires, she couldn’t help but smile a little. Just the thought of getting closer to Dean with every minute that passed helped with her frustration of being gone so long. He thought she would be gone a few more days, but luckily, she and her partner had found the pack and decimated it quicker than anticipated. She’d thought about calling and letting him know she was returning but decided to surprise him instead. 

Finally, the bunker was in her sights. She sighed in relief as she made her way to the garage, parked her car, and got out, stretching her sore and aching muscles. She threw her duffle over her shoulder and began the trek to the war room, hoping that Dean would be there, wanting to see the surprise on his face when she walked in. But, as she took her first steps into the room, he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Sam stood there, his own duffle slung over his shoulder. 

“Hey, Sam,” she greeted, “Are you heading out?” 

“Hey, Y/N,” he returned her greeting, “Yeah, Jody needs help with a vamp’s nest.” 

“Don’t you ever take a break? How long have you guys been back, anyway?” 

“We got back a couple of days ago. I’ve had time to rest,” he chuckled at her worry. She was always making sure they were taken care of. 

“Okay, just please be careful, and let us know how it’s going. Do you know where Dean is?”  

“He said something about going to watch a movie and relax. He’s been looking forward to you coming home. You know how Dean is; he won’t outwardly say it, but he really missed you,” Sam smiled, patting her on the shoulder as he walked past, heading for the garage. 

“I missed him. That’s why I didn’t call. I wanted to surprise him,” she exclaimed gleefully. The thought of his excitement at seeing her made her stomach swim with butterflies. 

“He’ll definitely be surprised. I’ll see you when I get back. It shouldn’t be more than a few days.” 

“Be safe,” she told him, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he left, leaving her alone in the war room. 

Once Sam was gone, she threw her things on the war room table, stretching her muscles again before she started her journey down the hall to her and Dean’s shared room. The excitement of knowing they had the bunker to themselves for a few days put a pep in her step. She was going to try to convince Dean to take this time to spend it together. No hunts, no outside distractions. Just the two of them lounging around, watching movies, spending long overdue quality time together. It wasn’t often that they were the only ones home. Sam was rarely not there with them or in the front seat of the Impala on their hunts. So, she wanted to take full advantage of the time they could have together the next few days. 

As she got closer to their room, the thoughts of everything they could do while alone made her want to giggle like a little girl. She loved that green-eyed hunter down the hall more than she could ever describe. It had taken a while, but she finally managed to get him to fully let her in and open up to her in ways that he hadn’t with anyone else, which made her love for him grow exponentially. But all thoughts ceased as she got to their doorway. The sound of a grunt coming from the cracked door made her stop in her tracks. Was he okay? Was he in pain? She rushed the last few steps to the room, peeking in, but what she saw froze her in her spot. Dean was lying in their bed, hand under the sheets, head thrown back in ecstasy. 

“Yes, Y/N, God, it feels so good,” he groaned, his hand visibly stroking his hard length. 

She couldn’t help but stare, the sight making her weak in the knees and that familiar heat growing between her legs. The sound of a woman moaning brought her back to the present. For a split second, her heart dropped, but then she realized it was coming from the porn he was watching. Her eyes broke from Dean to the screen, and what she witnessed gave her an idea. 

“So, how much does it turn you on to watch her be in control?” she questioned seductively, announcing her presence and making Dean jump in surprise. 

“Y/N! I-I, uh, how long have you been back?” he stuttered, quickly moving his hand away, flustered that he had been caught. 

“Long enough to see that you’re having a pretty good time there, handsome,” she quipped, turning her eyes back to the screen where the woman was clearly dominating her partner, “But you didn’t answer my question. How turned on are you to see a woman being dominant?” 

“I, well, uh,” he continued to stumble through his words as he reached for the remote control to turn off the movie.

“Uh uh. Leave it on,” she demanded authoritatively, slowly stripping off her flannel as she moved closer to the bed. She watched as he quivered at her tone. “Now, answer me.” 

“It turns me on,” he mumbled quickly, barely audible. 

“Oh, come on,” she chastised, now down to her underwear as she stood beside the bed, “You can do better than that.” 

“Fine, it really turns me on,” he said sheepishly, eyes cast down, not wanting to see her expression at his admission. 

She smirked, her tiredness ebbing away and turning into a burning desire for the man sitting before her. If that turned him on, she would give him something he’d never forget. But she had to make sure it was something he wanted. They’d always been good about trying new things, but only if both were up for it. So, placing her fingers under his chin, tilting his face to look at her, she smiled down at him. 

“You want me to do it? Want me to dominate you?” 

“Are you serious?” he asked, his cock twitching at the thought that one of his secret fantasies may be coming to life. 

She grabbed his face between her fingers a little roughly, pulling his face closer to hers as she leaned down to look into his eyes, “Do I look like I’m joking?” 

Before she knew what was happening, he had her pulled down into his lap, his mouth covering hers in a bruising kiss, his tongue swiping against her bottom lip, asking for entrance. She let him run the show for a minute, but when she felt him start grinding his hips up against hers, she pulled away, making him whine. 

“Now, here’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to listen to what I tell you, and if you disobey, I stop, understand?” she stated, watching his pupils dilate, almost completely taking over the emerald green of his eyes. 

“Yes, I understand.” 

“Yes, what?” she asked, grabbing his hair, tugging harshly, his body shaking with want. 

“Yes, ma’am!” he exclaimed excitedly. She was going to ruin him, and he was all for it. 

“Good. Now, you can touch me only when I say you can, and you cannot touch yourself at all. Are you sure you want this?” she asked one more time, ensuring he really wanted this. 

“Yes, I want it. Y/N, I promise I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” he smiled up at her. She always worried about him and his well-being. That’s one of the many reasons he loved her. 

“Alright. Then get ready to have your mind blown, big boy,” she winked, slowly beginning to grind down against him, his hands instinctively grabbing her hips. 

“What did I just say about touching,” she scolded, moving off his lap and standing beside the bed.

“I’m sorry! It’s just instinct! I won’t do it again!” he almost begged. He wanted, no needed, to feel her against him again. 

“Dean…I have to punish you for that. Maybe you’ll learn to listen.” 

“No, please, baby. I need to feel you. God, I’ve missed feeling you,” he whined, reaching out to touch her but remembering and pulling his hand back, dropping it in his lap. 

“Shh, babe. You’ll feel me, just not right now. Now, scoot up,” she motioned for him to move so she could sit behind him on the bed as she removed the rest of her clothes. He obliged, but not without a pout. 

“Ahh, are you pouting, Dean? Good boys don’t pout. Don’t you want to be a good boy and get the rewards they get?” she whispered in his ear as she ran her hands down his arms, moving over to his abdomen, making his muscles tense and then release. 

“Yes, God. I’ll be good,” he grunted as she scraped her nails up and down his stomach. 

“That’s what I want to hear. Now, lean back,” she instructed him to lean his body back against hers, his head on her shoulder as her hands continued to roam. 

“Baby…” he began to utter his pleas, but she moved her finger up to his mouth to quiet him. 

“You hear that? Do you hear the sounds she’s making? Does that turn you on, Dean? Will you let me use you to make myself feel that good, huh? Let me ride you until I come so hard, squeeze around you so tight,” she whispered in his ear, nudging his head to look at the movie, his breath hitching in his throat as her hands moved all around where he wanted her to touch him. It was tortuous, but he couldn’t deny that he was turned on more than he had been in a long time. The thought of her using him to get her pleasure made him hard as a rock. He couldn’t contain the loud moan that escaped him. 

“That’s it. Let me hear you, babe. Such a good boy for me,” she cooed, feeling his body shiver with need. It made her want him even more, her body reacting. She ground herself against his backside, needing friction. “You feel how wet I am, Dean? Damn, I can’t wait to feel you inside me, filling me up so good, filling me up the way only your big cock can.”

“Y/N, baby, please! I can’t take anymore. I need you so bad. Please, please…” he began to beg, the need to feel her wrapped around him, controlling all his senses. 

“Already begging? Does my good boy need me, need to come for me?” 

“Yes! I need you so bad. I’ve missed you and how you feel. Please, baby,” he pleaded, fists clenching the sheets beside him, her hands still teasing him, “I’m not going to last if you keep teasing me!”

She smirked at his desperation. What she wasn’t going to admit was that seeing him that turned on and begging for her was slowly chipping away at her restraint. Being away from him and not feeling him for over a week made her body thrum with the need for him, too. She slid from behind him and motioned for him to scoot back against the headboard. Once he was positioned where she wanted him, she climbed back into his lap. 

“I’m going to give you what you want, Dean, but remember, hands to yourself until I say otherwise. Got it?” she made sure the rules were clear as she slowly ground herself against him, his tip catching her swollen clit, bringing low moans out of her. 

“No touching, got it. Just please, sweetheart, stop teasing me and let me feel you,” he groaned as the feeling of her pussy, warm and slick, grinding against him slowly drove him insane. 

“That’s not how this works. You wanted me to dominate you, right? That means you get what I give you when I want to give it. Understand?” she said, pulling his hair, causing his head to tilt back to look up at her. 

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“Yes, what, Dean?” she smirked as she rolled her hips again and watched his eyes roll back. 

“Yes, ma’am! God, Y/N, you’re killing me…” 

“Oh, but what a pleasurable death it will be,” she moaned in his ear as she lifted herself, grabbing his cock and lining it up with her entrance, dropping down to take all of him in one motion. 

Dean couldn’t stop the scream that tore from his throat as he felt her heat surround him suddenly. He had to twist the sheets tighter in his grip to prevent his hands from grabbing her hips, making her bounce on him fast and hard, but he had asked her to dominate him, so he had to follow the rules, even though he thought it might be the death of him. 

Dean shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. It was taking all his willpower not to finish before her. He had never been dominated like this before, and he loved it. The feeling of her tight pussy taking him to the hilt, and the sexy moans leaving her as she chased her end, were driving him mad. He wanted to grab her hips and help her move against him, but he knew he couldn’t. 

Y/N watched Dean’s eyes flutter shut, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the sheets, his teeth indenting his bottom lip as he sucked into his mouth, trying to contain the many noises that wanted to bubble up and out of him, but she wasn’t having that. She pulled his lip from his teeth with her thumb, his eyes shooting open from the contact as she began to grind slowly in his lap. 

“No, Dean. No keeping quiet. Let me hear all those beautifully sinful noises I plan to draw out of you,” she told him as she began to move faster, the sexiest whimper she’d ever heard leaving past his lips, “Yes, that’s it, that’s my good boy. I’ll have you screaming my name before I’m done.” 

“God, Y/N…y-you feel so damn good. R-riding me so fucking good. Please, let me touch you. I need to touch you,” he begged, the restraint of not touching starting to become too much. 

“Does my good boy want to touch me?” she felt his whole body shudder at the praise, making her smile. Had she known that praising him would get that kind of reaction, she would’ve done it much sooner, “Okay, Dean. Since you’ve been good, you can touch me.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, his hands were on her hips, his grip almost bruising, his hips meeting hers as he pulled her up and down on him. She ran her hands into his hair, grasping it in handfuls as she continued to ride him hard, making him moan loudly. The sounds he was making made her clench around him, which, in turn, made him moan loudly again. It was a cycle that was quickly driving them both towards their ends. 

“Sweetheart, you gotta hurry. I can’t hold it much longer,” he growled through clenched teeth, the vein in his neck protruding out in his effort to hold back. 

“Be a good boy and make me come, then,” she demanded, her legs starting to shake with the exertion. 

Dean reached down between them, rubbing her clit in harsh circles as he thrust up into her as hard as he could. He knew she was getting close as he felt her begin to flutter and clench around him even more. A few more circles on her nub, and she was gone, falling over the edge, screaming his name as one of the most intense orgasms she ever had rushed through her. He grabbed her hips, pistoning up at a faster pace for a few seconds before her orgasm triggered his. He stilled deep within her, shouting her name as he shook all over, filling her up.

She collapsed against his chest, his hands instinctively running up and down her back slowly. They sat there silently, trying to catch their breaths for a few minutes before Y/N giggled. The motion of her body moving made him hiss. His softening length was sensitive from one of the strongest orgasms he’d ever had. Y/N sat up abruptly, making him groan. 

“Oh, God. Did I hurt you?” she asked, her eyes wide with worry. 

“No, sweetheart, I’m fine,” he chuckled, “I’m just a little sensitive, and when you started to laugh, it made you move on him. And I do believe he’s down for the count for a while.” 

“Are you saying that little Dean isn’t up for playing anymore?” she laughed as he rolled his eyes.

“One, don’t call him that, and two, yes, he’s done for the night. Sweetheart, you damn near killed me,” he groaned as she started to wiggle in his lap, teasing him. He helped her move from his lap to sit beside him on the bed. 

“So, I take it that means you enjoyed it?” 

“Enjoyed it? Y/N, baby, that was indescribable. I’m just sorry I didn’t ask for that sooner.” 

“Well, I’m happy I could be of service,” she stood from the bed and curtsied, causing Dean to burst out in full-body laughter. 

“You’re something else, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling her closer and kissing her hard, “Now, how about we talk about the roles being reversed sometime?”

“You want to dominate me?” she asked, putting her finger on her chin like she was contemplating, “I do believe that’d be fun.” 

“Then we’ll have to make plans for that, but first, I’m fucking starving. Let’s go to the kitchen, make us a snack, and then we come back here and watch a movie.” 

“Another movie?” she questioned with a smirk, gesturing to the TV where the porn was still playing. 

“Damn it, woman. A real movie, not the sexy kind,” he huffed, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV before slapping her on the ass, “Now, about that snack?” 

She laughed as they threw on their pajamas and made their way down the hall toward the kitchen. As they got closer, a sound made them freeze. Dean motioned for her to get behind him as they tiptoed around the corner, their bodies relaxing when they saw it was just Sam. 

“Hey guys, Jody called as I was about thirty minutes from here and told me they had taken care of the nest, so I didn’t have to go after all." He was explaining why he was there when he stopped and stared, “What happened to your hair? You look like Sonic the Hedgehog.” 

Y/N couldn’t contain the fits of laughter. She was doubled over, holding her sides as Dean looked on with his best bitchface. Her hands pulling on his hair had made it stick up in all different directions. Sam spoke again as she finally started calming down, sending her into another fit of giggles. 

“You know what, I don’t want to know. From the looks of you both, I know why, and now I wish I could bleach the image from my mind.” 

“Well, Sammy,” Dean smirked, pulling Y/N to his side, “What can I tell you? I aim to please.” 

“Excuse me. Who was doing the pleasing this time?” Y/N grinned, poking Dean in the chest. 

“Oh, God. I’m going to my room. I don’t want to hear this!” Sam groaned, leaving the kitchen. 

“Be glad you weren’t here thirty minutes ago, or you’d have heard plenty!” Y/N shouted at his retreating form as she and Dean started cackling. 

Sam groaned again as he walked away. A thought crossed his mind as he heard them continue to laugh as he made it further down the hallway.

“If I didn’t love them, I’d go back in there and stab them to death,” he mumbled to himself as he walked into his room and slammed the door, hoping he wouldn’t hear anything else from them the rest of the night. 

@flamencodiva​ @foxyjwls007​ @emoryhemsworth​ ​​ @valsworldofcreativity​​ @hardcoresupernaturalfans​​

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[suuuupernovaaa]

Summary: Azriel thought his love was dead.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, torture, blood.

Alive, his shadows whisper to him. She’s alive.

His wings cannot carry him there fast enough. Snow and ice tear at his skin as he flies over Velaris, and sweeps in through Rhysand and Feyre’s front door.

His chest heaves with strangled breaths as he lands in the foyer. “Where is she?” he demands, rough and loud, even though he can’t see anyone. He hears them upstairs, rushing around and whispering.

“Your room, come,” Feyre says, appearing at the top of the stairs, her eyes frantic and her dress bloodied. He clears the large staircase in three bounds, and follows passes Feyre in the hall.

His feet come to a halt at the entrance to his room, and he takes in the sight of her lying on the bed. Two healers attend to her, one on each side.

Her hair, normally so gold it nearly glows, is matted and dark with dirt and blood. There are wounds everywhere, cuts and scrapes on her pale face, exposed neck and arms, and her dress, the same one she was wearing when she disappeared two weeks ago, is dirty and torn.

She’s missing fingernails, part of her right ear is cut clean off, and blood drips from her nose.

Her chest rises and falls - alive, but asleep. He falls to his knees at the end of the bed, and weeps.

—

As I drift slowly towards consciousness, I expect to wake up in the same place that I have been since I was taken. A dungeon, cold and wet, strapped to stone table that is soaked with my blood and the blood of the poor souls before me.

Soon after I wake, he’ll return, with knives and chains and instruments of torture, and he’ll remain until I drift off again.

As the light begins to fill my eyes, I brace myself for his footsteps.

But they don’t come.

Beneath me is not unyielding stone, but a soft bed. Gone is the scent of blood, and I hear no screams.

I smell home. I smell him.

My eyes open slowly, and I’m so tired I can barely do it, but I need to see if it’s true.

He whispers my name when my eyes finally open, and I slowly turn my head to see him there, sitting next to our bed.

For two weeks, I did not cry. I endured in silence, unwilling to give my captors the satisfaction, picturing the very golden eyes that stare into mine now when it got very hard to stay still.

One look at the devastation in my mate’s eyes is my undoing, and I let out a choked sob as the tears begin to flow.

He’s upon me then, pulling me gently into his arms, and I grip him as tightly as I can.

“You’re safe. You’re safe with me, with us now,” he whispers to me, and I feel his shadows enveloping us, as if to hide me from any further danger. Welcome back, they seem to whisper.

It takes a long time before I stop crying and take inventory of my injuries. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days.”

My body feels okay. Sore, very tired, but I don’t feel anything broken beyond repair. At least, physically.

I reach up to touch my right ear, missing its pointed tip. “Ouch,” I hiss as my fingers brush the bandage.

“I’m so sorry. I’m… so sorry,” Azriel says, and I shush him in an instant.

“Absolutely not. I’ll never blame you and I won’t be able to heal if you’re blaming yourself. Do you hear me?” I glare at him, and he glances over my body once, pain deep in his eyes. “Do you?”

He meets my eyes and nods. “Yes.”

“Good. Now please, help me stand up.”

He makes to protest, and I lift my hand.

“I was not allowed to walk or even stand the entire time. I’ll walk now. Just for a moment.”

He supports me then, a grim expression on his face as he helps me into a sitting position, then standing. It hurts, but also feels so good to use my muscles this way. I groan, leaning on Azriel’s strong form for support.

Through the bond, I can feel how scared and exhausted he is. I want to tell him to lay down, to rest, but I’ve known my mate long enough to know he won’t.

We emerge from his room out into the hall, and I gesture towards the library down the hall. It has a large balcony where I can breathe fresh air, and it’s a short walk.

My legs feel stronger with every step, and when the cool night air hits me, I take in a deep breath, savoring the freshness of it. I close my eyes and let my chest fill with it over and over.

“The air in the dungeon was so stale. It smelled rotten, of piss and death. If you’d let me, I’d sleep on this balcony tonight.” I look over at Azriel, whose face is hardened.

“You need to heal, in a soft bed,” he replies.

I smile. “I know. Maybe camping, when I feel better.”

He nods curtly, and I lean my head on his shoulder. I feel his guilt then, deep and painful, as his shadows creep out to wrap around me as if to offer support.

“You need to process your feelings, Azriel. Work through them and release them. You are not to blame for what happened to me, and I need your help to heal myself.”

He looks down at me, almost startled by my words, and a shadow crosses his expression once more.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he replies simply, his voice thick with emotion.

I reach up and cup his cheek, trying not to grimace at the missing fingernails on my hand. They’ll grow back.

“I was not ready to leave you. They could have broken me, if I hadn’t had you to return to. Thinking of being with you again is all that kept me going. Without even being there, you saved me.”

He closes his eyes and presses his cheek into my palm, and a single tear escapes and slides down his golden-brown cheek.

I press a soft kiss to his lips, and he sweeps me up into his arms bridal style, and carries me back to bed.

Tomorrow, I’ll greet everyone else. I’ll thank them for saving me. I’ll cry and hug my family.

Tonight, I’ll sleep safely in the arms of my mate, wrapped in warm shadows.

[steviewashere]

Make a Home Out of Hurt

Rating: General CW: Death of a Grandparent, Mourning Tags: Post-Season 4, Post Canon, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe — Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Steve Harrington Mom is Okay, Steve Harrington's Dad is an Asshole, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Moving in Together

Had an evil little thought. Also, all these Fenton bunnies I mention are real! My nana collects Fenton. (She's alive, don't worry, but I thought about her the other day and it spiraled into this.)

🏡—————🏡 We’ve already seen this neighborhood, Eddie thinks, but won’t say.

Even though they have. They’ve driven by the same three houses. Yellow, pastel pink, and navy blue. White door, white door, brown door. Bushes and bushes and a bushel of red roses. One garage, no garage, no garage but large driveway. He’s seen them. Over and over and over.

And each time they pass the last one, the leather of the steering wheel squeaks. And each time, Steve makes a muffled sort of noise. And each time, Eddie wonders if resting his hand on Steve’s shaking shoulders would anger him or mellow him. And each time, the car gets just a little slower as Steve loses his control more and more.

We’ve already seen this neighborhood, Eddie continues to think, but knows he’ll sit here with those words. He’ll sit in the passenger seat. Window cranked as far down as it’ll go—half-way since Dustin busted the actual mechanism. Beemer’s been through a lot, so it’ll be here for Steve’s end all breakdown, too. With the radio volume low, playing the same double-sided tape on repeat, flipped by Eddie because Steve’s hands have been shaking: The World We Knew by Frank Sinatra. Because it was her favorite. Nana’s favorite. Nana Harrington’s favorite.

On the fifth drive through, Steve finally parks the car. At the end of the long, slow winding driveway. He looks out the windshield, hollowed and not quite here. With limp hands in his lap. Messy, greasy hair he couldn’t bother to style. Eye bags so heavy, Eddie barely believes he can hold them on his face.

Eddie can follow his line of sight. To the edge of the white picket fence, worn down a little with age, scratched up from the curled nails of an old brown dog, carved with her son and daughter-in-law’s initials, and eventually stained with yellow handprints from baby Steve. Yellow because, as Steve has echoed, “Lello, Nana. Lello like your dress. Your favorite!” Well, Steve’s favorite too, he just won’t acknowledge it’s because of his nana. Eddie knows that the paint has faded a bit since then, given that it’s been fifteen years since Steve’s had hands that small, but Eddie can see him. In his little white and red striped t-shirt, hidden by a pair of nicely pressed denim overalls, white sneakers, and his mom’s bobby pins in his hair—something she did because it just wouldn’t stop growing so fast and thick. Or so Eddie’s been told.

He’s been told a lot in the last week. Since the call came through the landline of their apartment. Since Steve had gone silent and collapsed to his knees and wailed, screamed even. Since he dressed himself in a suit that fit well, but looked out of place on his curled in body. Since…since the obituary was finally in his hands at the funeral, and he got so sick in the church’s restroom, Eddie had to drive them home in a daze—a quarter worried, a quarter tired, and half hanging by a thread. He thinks he’s heard everything, but what is love if not more than everything? If not all the words in every language, all known objects and unknown, every species and race and sexuality and identities combined?

He’ll hear everything. Until their old and grey and forgetting everything.

“There used to be a tire swing on that tree,” Steve states flatly, pointing at the weeping oak in his nana’s front yard. It’s crooked like it’s been kissed by the wind. A lot withering because the weather’s been harsh on her. Grey against the navy blue of the house’s siding.

I know, sweetheart, Eddie wants to say, so soft it gets lost between them. Instead, “Yeah? Bet it was a good tire, too,” he coaxes, still soft, all sweet. Even if he’s heard it each time they’ve passed by.

Steve nods once in his peripheral. Sniffs. “Yeah,” he states wetly, “one of the expensive ones. She didn’t want it to pop under me. Didn’t…She didn’t want me to stop using it.” His head dips down, looking at his fingers, where they’ve begun to absently trace the seams of his jeans. “I stopped,” he whispers shamefully. “You think she got mad because I stopped?”

“No, baby,” Eddie answers honestly. “I think that she was happy you used it at all. Think she was always just happy to see you, Steve.”

A sharp intake of breath next to him. “I used to come over here when my parents were gone. Or when they’d scream at each other. Or when…when they’d forget I existed,” he relays, quiet as a mouse. “When they’d forget, Nana would open the door and kiss my cheek and make me something to eat. I was always too skinny. So she made me casseroles,” he explains, a wisp of a smile. Gone in the blink of an eye. “She’ll never make ‘em again, though. She won’t—”

“Steve,” Eddie calls gently, a small warning. A siren before the tsunami. 

“—Love me again,” Steve sobs, “Nana won’t love me again.”

“Oh, baby,” he breathes. Eddie steps out of the car, rounds over to the driver’s side, and yanks the door open. Carefully, he unbuckles Steve, scoots him so that his legs dangle over the side, and pulls him down into a gentle hug. “Baby,” he coos. “Just get it out, honey. I’m right here. We’re right here. I’ve got you.”

And Steve cries. Again; though Eddie’s lost count. He squirms against Eddie’s chest. Head nestled to his neck. Crying big sounds that sound too large, even for his adult body. Sounds that carry boats, that poison with oil spills, that home orcas. He slobbers onto Eddie’s skin, grand globs of hot spit that gargle in his throat before launching from his mouth. His unshaved stubble scratching at the side of Eddie’s face—where his skin is sensitive and smooth and will most definitely be raw with Steve’s aching.

He sobs until there’s no more tears. Until he’s a whimpering, shivering mess on Eddie’s chest. Bunched up and small and fisting Eddie’s t-shirt like a lifeline. Squeezing the fabric in his hands like two lemons.

Eddie runs his hands up and down Steve’s spine. From the small of his back to his hunched shoulders, squishing him. He sways them ever so gently like the rustle of the old oak tree. Hums something incoherent and unrecognizable. If only to get Steve to stop shaking.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

He takes a long, slow breath. Breathes out, “Why’d she give me the house?”

Eddie pulls them apart. One hand on the middle of Steve’s back, the other cupping his left cheek. Swiping at the tacky tracks from his tears. “I’m not sure, baby. Maybe she loved you so much that she wanted you to have it? To always be safe there?”

“Shouldn’t she have given it to my dad? I don’t…” Steve’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, his mouth frowning. “I don’t deserve her house?”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie sighs. “She chose you for a reason. You, Stevie. Not anybody else. Just you. If she wanted to give it to her son, she would’ve. But she didn’t. She thought of you, put you in the will, and now it’s yours.” When Steve doesn’t respond, Eddie gives him his moment of silence. Running his palm up to Steve’s shoulders. Pressing his thumb into his supple skin. “You may never know her intent, but she probably had a reason. It was a home you came running to, where you felt safest, where you felt…loved. Grandmothers always have this air to them, like they just know things about you before you say ‘em. Maybe she just knew you needed her and her space before you even realized.”

Steve sniffles. His eyes are still wet. Bloodshot and tired. Rumpled all the way around, exhausted and quiet. “She used to play with me in the yard.”

I know, Eddie thinks once more. He goes with the topic change though, if that’s what Steve needs.

“And when we played hide and seek, she always made sure to look until I was found. Because she didn’t want me to feel forgotten, her words.” Steve’s fingers are fidgeting with one another again. Picking at his fingernails, peeling at hangnails. Eddie moves down and takes them, rubbing soothing circles into their backs, just so Steve doesn’t harm himself on top of everything. Steve continues, hushed, “When I’d stay the night, she would sleep with me. Hold me close to her. Scratch my back and scalp and tell me stories…all the way until I fell asleep.”

“Kinda like I do, huh?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Think that’s why I feel so loved and safe with you.”

And Eddie hasn’t cried, not really, not yet. But this may be it. Because he knows, beyond everything, that Nana was special to Steve—so special that just one negative comment, one complaint, one little fuss about her was enough to get you shunned by him. He’s seen it play out with Dustin, he’d been banned from coming over for two weeks. And with El, who didn’t understand quite yet, but had lost conversational abilities with Steve for two whole days—ergo, the Silent Treatment.

This means something. It means everything. Eddie kind of wants to cry about it.

But he reigns himself in for now. Because Steve needs him like water. For somebody to just be there and be present and be patient. Through it all.

“You wanna head inside,” Eddie offers, “I’ve got the key in my pocket.” He gestures loosely to the inside of his vest, the safest pocket near his heart. When Steve nods, Eddie leads them inside silently. Opens the door first, per request made by Steve days prior. Sets his shoes by the front door—not told to, but just out of respect. Hangs up his jacket, his vest. Takes Steve’s jacket, too. Unties his Nike sneakers. Smacks a quick kiss to his cheek. And then he waits by the front door for Steve to say or do something.

The first thing he does is gasp. Eyes roaming the hallway, the living room, and the fireplace that connects the kitchen and living space together. He takes a few tentative steps before stopping in front of a tall, full China cabinet.

“Her Fenton bunnies,” Steve breathes.

Eddie slowly approaches behind him. Wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him into his side a little. “Are these the ones your mom was talking about on the phone?”

“Yeah. I just…Didn’t think my mom was telling the truth,” Steve murmurs. “She told me Dad didn’t want these. Takes up room or whatever. But they’re so pretty here, how could you not want these?” His left hand reaches for the knob of the cabinet. Twisting it gently as to not rattle the glass shelves. With the doors swung open, the bunnies under the cabinet’s lighting are free to touch. And so Steve picks one up, carefully in his hands like it’s alive. Maybe it is, Eddie thinks for a moment, alive with her spirit.

He breathes silently by Steve as he investigates the glass item in his hand. Running his thumbs over the ears. Down the smooth back.

“Satin glass,” Steve states, “It’s like touching the fabric, which is so weird. Nana used to talk about it all the time, but I never believed her. She never let me touch. You wanna?” He holds the bunny up to Eddie’s face. In offering, for him to pet. So he runs a slow thumb down its back. And sure enough, soft as silk, cold to the touch. “All of them are here.” He replaces the silk, purple bunny on the shelf. Picking up a chromatic shifting one next. “Carnival glass,” Steve explains, “it’s heavier than the other one, feels like. But so shiny. Think Nana used to say it was amethyst or something, but that might be what the color shift is called?”

“You sure listened to her well,” Eddie murmurs, “know a lot about this.”

Steve chuckles, a little choked to Eddie’s ears but he makes no comment. “Yeah, I guess I did. Mom used to say that I had selective hearing. That I listened when it was something I cared about.”

“And you cared a lot about Nana,” Eddie concludes.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, “cared a lot about Nana.” He sets the carnival glass bunny back on the shelf. Standing idle in front of it all, taking it all in. “She has one upstairs, in a different glass cabinet. It glows green under the special blacklight upstairs. Said it was radioactive.” He chuckles again. “I gave her that one. As a gift for Mother’s Day in…I think ’77? Mom helped me pick it out—she was nice about the bunnies, about finding this stuff. She loved Nana, too. And she…” He laughs low in his chest and Eddie blossoms a little at the sound, unheard in so long. “Mom would pull out the long box of tissue paper and gift bags from the crawlspace. She’d unfold the prettiest gift bag—this one was a little brown one, covered in peach colored peonies. Stuffed some off-white tissue paper in that one. Wrapped the little yellow—well, it was supposed to be yellow—Fenton bunny in bubble wrap, covered it up with a bunch of caramels. Gave it to Nana, and she squealed! Apparently, she already knew it was radioactive? Thought it was the best gift ever. Which, ouch Nana, I gave you other bunnies for Mother’s Day, c’mon.”

Eddie snorts. “Maybe that’s what earned you the house? That radioactive bunny was probably the key to her heart,” he jokes. Though his stomach turns at the possibility it wasn’t appropriate to make.

Steve laughs loudly, though. Shaking his entire body with it. He slips his hand into Eddie’s back right pocket, sighs, and leans against him relaxed. “Dad should’a tried harder if he wanted Nana’s heart,” he comments, “all it took was a damn bunny.”

“Among other things, I’m sure.”

“Probably,” Steve sighs. “I think she was just excited to have a grandkid. She had a weird relationship with my dad. They didn’t get along very well. So maybe she was sorta…trying again?”

“Stevie, I think she just loved you. There doesn’t have to be some grand, deep meaning behind it. I think she just loved your company. How your laugh fills a room and your smile is seen from across the yard. And how you’re always polite, despite having reasons to not be. Maybe because of your terrible puns and how awful you are at quoting Shakespeare? You charm everybody, Steve,” Eddie monologues. “There’s not a reason to not love you.”

For a moment, the room falls completely silent. Distantly, there’s the slow tick of a wall clock. A few birds singing out in the backyard, where the bird bath probably is—only known through Steve’s memories. A slight hum from the radiator. The cars passing by on the main road just around the corner. Hawkins is quiet when there’s mourning; maybe it’s felt through the whole town, through the soles of Steve’s socked feet, from the beating of his ever love absorbent heart.

She died November 7th, 1993. Just a few days ago. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Will Byers going missing that Hawkins is feeling. Maybe it’s just tragedy. It’s love persevering—even in the most dire of situations. Where Joyce Byers was screaming about where her son may be, all those mismatched theories, and the ways in which the town thought she was crazy—even when they believed her and cried over her son’s body being pulled from the water. Where Will is actually thriving now. Where Sandra Harrington no longer is, though she was a fixture in several communities and families, Steve’s own being included.

“How’s your boy doing?” Wayne asked the day after her funeral. Eddie had shrugged, admitting he wasn’t sure because Steve had gone terribly quiet and sick. “Tell him I’m sorry. That he has a home with us. That he can come over and cry and I’ll make him hot cocoa. Alright, Ed?”

God, even Wayne knew. And there was silence after his condolences.

There is so much silence.

Until, finally, Steve asks, “Will you live with me here?”

“Wh—What?” Because surely he didn’t hear that right.

“Live with me here,” Steve repeats, a little more urgent. “I don’t think I can handle this place alone. And…I know how to use her gas stove. I can make you the spaghetti dish she used to make. And the casseroles she used to bake. We can open up her recipe box and I’ll teach you how to make her apple pie—the one she gave me for your birthday two years ago?

“And we can read your Lord of The Rings books on the porch on the bench she has out there? Grill in the backyard when we have everybody over. Robin can have the room that used to be my nursery. We can…We can live our lives here.”

Stunned, Eddie gapes momentarily. Before gripping harder at Steve’s waist, drawing him closer even when there’s no more room. Two solid bodies connected from shoulder to foot. “Are you sure, Steve? You don’t wanna—“

“You’re my family, Eds. I have loved you since that bullshit in ’86. We have seen each other through our absolute worst. Of course I’m sure. Of course I want you here,” Steve swears. “I know what I’m getting into. Even if it hurts to look around here right now. But you’ve been here by me through one of the worst heartbreaks I’ve ever experienced. I want you here—preferably always.”

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes. He reaches out with his free hand and cups the right side of Steve’s face. Swipes over his glistening cheekbone. Under his shadow beaten eye. The tickling brush of Steve’s bottom eyelashes on the tip of his thumb. And he kisses him tenderly, with every word he could ever imagine to say, all emotion he could ever feel, with an intensity seen in atomic bombs. He pulls back to see Steve’s eyes closed. Flushed and bright in the cabinet’s full white lighting, doors still open, and fragile glass bunnies as witnesses. Promises, “I want to, Steve. I want to be here with you. Through it. All of it. As long as I get to love you.”

And on his thumb there are fresh tears, gone cold but skin scalding. Steve’s lips trembling with silent cries. His eyelashes fluttering. Him and him and him. Beautiful and raw and open. Gentle like flowers and strong like wind. Aching and romantic and with a heart the size of the universe itself. Because Steve Harrington is everything—

Or so his nana has said. But Steve doesn’t know. And that’s Eddie’s own secret.

“Okay,” Steve mutters, “make a home with me, Ed.”

🏡—————🏡

[literaila]

do you ever think reader would storm out of the house after a fight between her & satoru? (referring to ur keeping secrets fic.) i feel like part of her wouldn’t bc she’s also thinking about the kids and she just can’t leave them, but she also seems a lot more grounded than satoru in general. i think the other part of her would also need a minute to step out for a bit bc i just know satoru drives her to insanity. i don’t knoww, satoru’s reaction to her storming out just infects my brain, but i know she couldn’t do that to megumi and tsumiki </3 i’m such a sucker for your hurt/comfort fics

“where are you going?”

“not sure,” satoru says, barely mumbling. “i didn’t ask.”

“you didn’t ask?”

he looks at you, just a glimmer of teasing in his eyes. but the rest of him is apprehensive—he knows what you’re thinking.

he always does.

but he looks back down, shoving shirts into a suitcase in the worst possible way.

“does it matter?” he asks, dryly. “it’s just another work trip.”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

“however long it takes to—“

“can i come with you?”

satoru pauses, and his eyes trail to you.

to you, where you’re standing in the doorway. you only know he’s leaving because of the suitcase, you only know that you can’t deal with him being gone again because of that feeling.

it’s reminiscent of packing your own bag at fifteen. of never returning home.

“you want to come?” satoru’s voice is too smooth, too unserious. “you hate planes. and what about work? you want to take your students too?”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

satoru sighs. he finally relents, walking over to you. his smile is a little irritated, tired. “it won’t take long,” he says, rubbing your shoulders. “you’ll get the bed all to yourself.”

“this is the fourth trip in the last three months.”

he tilts his head. “it’s the same amount as always.”

“it’s—“ you stop.

it’s different.

and your heart is racing, because you’re used to this feeling.

really, satoru has taken regular work trips for as long as you’ve known him. his passport is well used, his suitcase replaced almost once a year.

but it’s different.

because it used to be you, satoru, and the kids. it used to be you and the kids waiting at the door, talking about him behind his back, going to the airport to pick him up.

and even if you missed him, you knew that tsumiki missed him just as much. you knew that megumi was waiting for him to come back just the same—getting restless without someone there to mess with constantly.

it used to be you and the kids, when satoru was gone.

but now…

megumi is at school all week—and even when he comes home, it’s only to keep you happy. so that he can take a break from jujutsu, and sleeping in a dorm right next to yuji’s.

and tsumiki—

you stop thinking about that almost immediately.

it’s just not worth it.

when satoru leaves, you’re all alone.

“i wish you could come. you know how the higher ups are about—“

“why don’t you tell them no?”

satoru is wearing his blindfold, so you can’t see his eyes. but you see it as he leans back, looking at you curiously. “what?”

“tell them no. they’re scared of you, aren’t they? they’re not going to make you—“

“what other special grade sorcerer are they going to send?” he asks, shaking his head. “i hate them too, but if they need me—“

“i need you.”

satoru stops. you want to see his eyes—you want him to stay here.

you don’t want to walk around the house and chat with ghosts. you don’t want to be the only one left behind—the only one who has nothing else.

what about you? what’s supposed to happen to you when satoru leaves you behind?

he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.

“what?”

“i don’t understand why you have to go,” you say, and you’re angry now. “i’m tired of your work trips, and i hate that you don’t even care, and i hate being in the house all alone—“

“what? what do you mean i don’t care?”

you pull away from him. just to do it first. “you don’t even try to get someone else to do it, you just leave—“

“why are you blaming me? i didn’t ask for this.”

“because you’re always gone! and i’m always alone, and you haven’t even asked me how i feel about it—“

“it’s not like i enjoy doing it,” he says, frowning. “i don’t like leaving you or the kids, it’s just work—“

“i think you do enjoy it,” you spit. and you know that you shouldn’t but, “you like being the only one that they can call. being the strongest. that’s why you haven’t told them no, that’s why—“

“what?”

“is it fun to leave the house? to escape for a week or two while i’m here to take care of everything?”

satoru scoffs. “are you kidding?”

“what? you can admit it. go on and leave. you’ve done it before, satoru.”

his jaw clenches. “if you don’t like being here,” he says, so soft—but you can feel it. the impending blow. “then go somewhere else.”

immediately, your body flinches back. you fall inwards, wanting nothing more than to fall back against him.

but it’s too late.

“i can’t help that im the strongest, i don’t enjoy leaving you—but ill do it because it’s my job. if you hate being alone, then find something else. go see megumi, or nanami, or—“

you take a step back, almost stumbling into the wall.

“you’re putting words in my mouth and i—“

but you don’t hear the rest of that sentence.

and maybe this is your fault. you shouldn’t have picked a fight, you shouldn’t have even said anything.

satoru isn’t to blame for your loneliness. he isn’t to blame for anything.

you turn around. and you walk out the door with shaking hands.

go somewhere else, he said.

and you will.

[mypimpademia]

— College

College student! Bakugo x College student! Black! Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Headcanons of how Bakugo would be as a college student + what it’d be like to date him.

TW: Swearing, mentions of injuries, suggestive on some parts

Note: Made with the help of @katsumiiii <3. Also this is a sort of implied quirkless au bc it’s a college au but it doesn’t matter too much.

⇶ When Katsuki gets to college, he mellows out a whole lot

⇶ Of course he’s more mature than he was in high school. But now, he has a very obvious security in himself and is like a whole new person

⇶ He’s much quieter, and keeps to himself for the most part

⇶ Somehow, he’s even more focused on his goals than ever, and because of that he just doesn’t have energy to waste on cussing people out and yelling all the time

⇶ He has so much going for himself and he knows it, his priorities are set in stone and nothing can keep him from reaching his goals

⇶ Katsuki would likely major in something related to business whether it’s actually business, finance, analytics, etc, that’s all he can see himself in, and he’d fit the part well

⇶ Even though Katsuki has worked through a lot of his issues by this point, he still has a lot of frustration and stress he needs to channel

⇶ And being competitive by nature, he joins the football team and boxes on the side

⇶ Despite most of his teammates being fairly popular, Katsuki is extremely lowkey

⇶ He is still very popular, in a sense. People know him and know of him, but he minds his business and hardly speaks to most people

⇶ But of course the one person he spends as much time with as possible is his pretty girlfriend

⇶ What drew Katsuki to you initially was your determination and work ethic

⇶ You were smart, and heavily involved with the school and your peers, and he found this oddly attractive

⇶ Before getting together, you were decently known through your in involvement around campus. But after, you were both school celebrities

⇶ Everyone knew, or knew of, the two of you. And they all knew you belonged to each other

⇶ Though, you were both so busy that you’re hardly together during the week

⇶ But you always make your way towards each other by the end of the day, and compensate for lost time over the weekends

⇶ During your freshman year, you’d sneak into each others dorms for the weekend to spend time with one another

⇶ Of course, staying in a drab dorm room all day could be boring, even with company

⇶ So the two of you would always end up taking little adventures together whether it was a walk around campus, driving around town, shopping, or going out to eat, you always made sure your time was well spent

⇶ By your sophomore year, Katsuki would get his own apartment near by the campus

⇶ And although you still had a dorm, you essentially lived with him

⇶ A good chunk of your clothes and shoes were there, he bought all your body care for you so you weren’t taking it back and forth, more bonnets than you’d ever need, and of course, him.

⇶ But it was an advantage to the both of you, and your relationship. Because as busy as the two of you could get sometimes, even if you didn’t see each other the whole day, laying in the same bed at night was enough for you

⇶ During the week, even if your schedules had no alignment whatsoever, Katsuki would always make time to see you

⇶ He has a special knack for always knowing where you were at all times, and knew just when to show up, even if your location was off and you hadn’t communicated where you were to him in the slightest

⇶ This especially comes into play in the context of getting all three meals in on a daily basis

⇶ Katsuki still loves to cook, and he’s never played about having a proper diet and he won’t start with you

⇶ Even if he’s gone from his apartment by the time you wake up, there’s a nice warm breakfast sitting on his counter for you

⇶ And no matter where you are come lunch, he’ll make sure that you eat

Katsu💖: You eat yet princess?

You: Nah, I don’t have time to eat rn anyways

You: I think ima just skip lunch ngl

Katsu💖: The fuck do you mean you’re gonna skip lunch

You: I mean I’m gonna skip lunch!

Katsu💖: No tf you’re not

Katsu💖: I’m otw I’m bringing you food

You: bro

You: my location not even on rn fym you’re otw🧍‍♀️

Katsu💖: ? I don’t need your location to be on to know where you are

Katsu💖: What kind of bf would I be if I didn’t know where my gf was

Katsu💖: Especially if I just let her voluntarily starve like a dumbass

You: Alr.

Katsu💖: What do you take me for??? A fucking loser???

You: Now what if I said yes Katsuki.

Katsu💖: Then you’re not getting food

You: Yeahhhh okay😂😂😂😂

Katsu💖: I’m outside

Katsu💖: Hurry up before I change my mind🤦‍♂️

You: Ty bbg😋

Katsu💖: Do not call me that

⇶ Katsuki pulls his random “I’m outside” texts often

⇶ Usually, it’s to bring you some food, and sometimes he just misses his girl

⇶ As crazy as they may be at times, seeing that notification pop up never fails to make you smile

⇶ Nobody misses it when you smile like that either, you’re so well known as a pair that it’s expected that you’re going to see him when you basically skip out of the room

⇶ Unfortunately, being a well known pair doesn’t stop audacious people from hitting on either of you

⇶ On Katsuki’s end, he think people are insane when they approach him in such a way knowing that he’s dating you

⇶ It’s such a slap in the face whenever it happens, that he can do nothing but stare at the person like they’re stupid until they go away

⇶ On your end, Katsuki’s temper jumps out whenever people get the nerve to approach you in any sort of flirtatious way

⇶ If he’s in the area whenever it happens, he always pops up to remove the person from your space

⇶ If he’s not, you always tell him exactly what happened and the only response you ever get is, “I’ll handle it.”

⇶ Regardless of whether or not he’s present, he always handles it by having a less than friendly exchange with your pursuer that usually puts an end to things

⇶ If the person decides to persist for some reason, you become more reluctant to tell Katsuki about it

⇶ You know he cares about you, but you don’t want him stressing or putting to much energy into something that’s not worth it

⇶ But Katsuki can read you like a book, and to him, no energy that goes towards you is ever too much

⇶ Though Katsuki’s is reputation is fairly polished, it’s only blemishes come from people he ended up fighting over you

⇶ Days where neither of you are busy are both of your favorite days

⇶ They’re usually spent at his apartment, or running errands together

⇶ And of course, he squeezes in time for dates

⇶ On occasion, he’ll randomly tell you to get dressed up nice before taking you out for a fancy dinner and spoiling you with delicious food and thoughtful gifts

⇶ While you always stress about him spending so much money on you when he doesn’t let you do the same, he doesn’t mind at all

⇶ To others, Katsuki always seems to have a suspicious amount of money for a college student

⇶ It sparks some rumors, but nobody cares enough to make a big deal about it

⇶ The truth is, he makes money by modeling for his mom on the side, and makes a little off boxing as well

⇶ And if he’s being honest, most of his money goes to you

⇶ He pays for your hair products, hair, nails, clothes, random things you want, and sometimes even your groceries

⇶ Most of the time, you do small dates like picnics and study dates

⇶ He’ll set a cozy mood in his apartment with a led lights, a playlist going, candles lit, and both of you in matching pajamas

⇶ Katsuki makes snacks during breaks and gives you kisses whenever you get a question right

⇶ And what kind of boyfriend would he be if he wasn’t your personal tutor? He helps you on all and any work that you have, and if he doesn’t know jack shit about the class he’ll learn just for you

⇶ On days where just one of you is busy, you’re still attached at the hip, tagging along wherever the other goes just to be in each others presence

⇶ Game days are “secretly” Katsuki’s favorite

⇶ There’s a certain feeling that he only gets when he sees you wearing his jersey and hears you shouting his name from the stands

⇶ Runs over to talk to you whenever he gets a chance, even if he’s not supposed to be over there

⇶ Takes his good luck kisses VERY seriously, and honestly gets frustrated if he doesn’t get one both before the game and during half time

⇶ Even though he’s supposed to be with the team after games, he somehow always manages to slip away and simply go straight home with you

⇶ Half the time, he should be going to his trainers to get any cuts and bruises treated, but he’ll break a bone before he goes to a trainer instead of you

⇶ Puts it on everything that he heals extra fast when you do it, and even faster if you kiss him while you patch him up

⇶ While cleaning him up should really only take 30 minutes, it always ends up taking 2 hours because Katsuki can’t keep his hands to himself

⇶ Always going to kiss you on your lips, cheeks, and neck, always trying to hold your hands, grab at your thighs, pull you closer by your waist

⇶ You can hardly manage to ice a bruise when he gets like this

⇶ But when you finally get done cleaning him up, he thanks you and smothers you with more kisses

⇶ Cooks up a nice dinner to curl up on the couch with, and puts on a movie that you more than likely fall asleep to

⇶ But like the good boyfriend he is, Katsuki carries you to bed where he puts your bonnet on for you and crawls into bed with you

⇶ Coming home to you is by far Katsuki’s favorite part of his day, and even with the path in front of him, he thinks he’d be lost without you

—

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—

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[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 17/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

                While they travel together most people assume Vi and him are a couple, it helps a lot of the time. They end up sharing a room or bed as they move around. It does make hooking up difficult, but he either resorts to bathroom stalls, or going home with guys after letting Vi do her hard ass security routine where she insists on taking any guys photo before she lets Bradley leave with him. Annoying as fuck but he’s certain he dodges some real bullets because of it. On the rarer instances when he’s hooked up with a woman she’s done the same thing, although it had resulted in more than one awkward proposition for a threesome. He knows Vi doesn’t do casual, but she’s more than happy acting as his wingman, and telling him that in no uncertain terms she doesn’t find him at all attractive and never will.

                Spending nearly every waking moment together for weeks and then months on end helps solidify their relationship. He’s never had a sibling, and while Vi has two sisters, they’re both quite a bit older though, so he can only think that this must be what it’s like. She knows him, has known him, for several years now and even though she never likens their relationship to that of siblings she definitely calls him cousin openly and consistently, treats him like he’s family in a way he can’t imagine having any other way without calling her sister. Cousin. Whatever.

…            …            …

                He wakes up feeling the most well rested he has in ages, muscles pleasantly sore, blankets warm, air conditioning making the room cooler and he takes a moment to just burrow down further beneath the blankets and smiles to himself. This is what everyone wants him to do when they tell him he needs a vacation. If this is what it’s going to be like then he’s going to be much more easily persuaded. He stretches and reaches for his phone, surprised to see it’s after ten. He needs to ring Vi and check in and make sure the restaurant hasn’t fallen down, not that he doesn’t trust those he left in charge, but it’s his, and he’s been gone for a while and it doesn’t always sit right leaving it for so long. However he trusts Vi implicitly and she won’t hold back telling him if he needs to come home, no matter how much she thinks he needs a break.

                “Come up for breath huh?”

                “Hello to you too.”

                “You’re having a sexcation, I’m surprised you’re awake.”

                “Jake’s gone to see his family.”

                “Oh. Right. Of course. I see how it is. You’re bored.”

                “I’m…” he lets out a long calming breath, “I wanted to check in with you. See how it’s going in my absence?”

                “I came back to a pile of ash and am busy filling in the insurance paperwork…”

                “Vi…”

                “Everything is fine. Everyone is fine. We created a well-oiled machine and it’s working exactly as it should. Calm down and enjoy you sexcation…”

                “What if it’s… more than that.”

                “What do you mean?”

                Bradley bites his lip, wonders if he should just blurt out that he’s already asked Jake to consider dating him, having a long distance relationship and trying something, no matter how crazy or difficult it might be. If he tells Vi he’s already done it, she’ll support him, without question. However if he asks her opinion then he’ll also get it, honest and brutal and he’s terrified it might not be supportive but he still wants to hear it.

                “So, I met his sister yesterday. One of his sisters. She invited me to dinner to meet the rest of his family tomorrow night… I really like him.”

                “Yeah. Of course you do. He’s your Cinderfella.”

                “Cinderfella was a fairytale, Jake is… a cocky asshole who adds sauce to everything.”

                “And yet you like him anyway.”

                “I do. I do like him.”

                “Yeah. I could tell. You going to actually do anything about it other than just… sex?”

                “Do you think I should?”

                “I’m not making that decision for you. But… He was learning Italian. Maybe on the off chance that he might one day meet you again. I mean. Slim to zero chances if you were actually Italian, but he was doing it anyway. He makes you laugh. His stupid sauce thing. You think it’s fucking cute and funny. It’s like he’s made you loosen up a bit and that’s… it’s good to see. I want you to be happy and more relaxed and if you have to be with a guy that adds sauce to everything to be happy then I will make sacrifices…”

                “Wow. Big of you.”

                “What is the worst he can say? No, right? Thanks but no thanks?”

                “Yeah.”

                “And what’s the best he can say?”

                “I love you, lets run off to Vegas and get married?” Bradley jokes, because he’s already had the conversation with Jake, and Vi is already pushing him to asking. And Maria had been doing the same, so having family also think that they might work together. Despite the distance and jobs. To try it.

                “Holy shit, you’re thinking about marrying this guy.”

                “What? No I’m not.”

                “You literally just mentioned running off to Vegas to get married!”

                “It was hypothetical!”

                “And if he asked?”

                “I’d… I’d say yes,” Bradley says, but he has to hold back laughter, because he wouldn’t, but god does he want Vi to think he would.

                “Oh my god, you’re serious.”

                “He’s not going to propose marriage Vi.”

                “Well, still more likely than him saying no to whatever it is you’re going to ask him… Bradley. You’ve met his family. Well. A sister. He’s met me, which is as much family as you have and talk to on the East Coast. You’ve shoving several months into two weeks… But do not, under any circumstances run off to fucking Vegas and get married. Aunt Silvia would kill you as soon as she caught wind of it.”

                “Well, I’m not going to ask him,” Bradley says, grinning, because god he loves winding her up.

                “Why not? You have to take a risk sometime…”

                “I’m not going to ask him, because we already talked about it yesterday and we’re… dating. Going to try the whole long distance th-”

                “Mamma Mia! Stronzo!” Vi snaps out, followed by further strings of insults in Italian and Bradley laughs at her annoyance, feels accomplished in a way that only annoying her brings.

                “Yeah yeah, think of me tomorrow when I’m meeting his entire family. For the record, he has five sisters.”

                “Oh… oh that’s beautiful. That’s what I call karma. Stronzo.”

                “Yeah, laugh it up. Can’t be any more intimidating the Nana and Nonna.”

                “True. Think you’ll take him to Italy?”

                “It’s been six days. How about we just… slow it down. Take it easy.”

                “Hmm. From the guy who has already decided to date him and try long distance. And yet I’m the one suggesting crazy shit.”

                Bradley groans, and he knows what he’s going to ask next isn’t going to help at all in terms of making Vi think he’s not rushing into things.

                “His sister clocked me as soon as I walked in by the way. She’s a fan.”

                “And?”

                “Jake has no idea who I am…”

                “Oh… oh shit. That’s not going to work.”

                “He knows my name. But he doesn’t like watching reality TV. He saw one of my recipe books, that Maria owns, and he didn’t even blink. Was just… oh, good for you. You’ve done a cook book.”

                “Okay. So maybe he’s just very chill about it?”

                “Maria thinks he’s oblivious and will remain oblivious.”

                “Maria is…”

                “His sister. She invited me to dinner. To meet everyone else. Said that Jake can be pretty blind to things even when it’s right in front of him. And that she’ll… maybe help him remain in the dark a little?”

                “That’s not a good idea.”

                “Not in a bad way. Just… she’s warning all of Jake’s other sisters, so they don’t make a big deal and are prepared when I turn up. She was not prepared for me to turn up, Jake had been calling me Leo the whole time. I’m lucky she just rolled with it. We’d met at the market as well, so…”

                “He knows your name though right?”

                “Yeah. And Maria calls me Bradley.”

                “Oh. So… he knows you’re a chef, that you’ve done some books and what…?”

                “That I work in a restaurant in New York. But also that I travel a lot for work. Sometimes.”

                “You do travel a lot.”

                “Yep.”

                “Okay. Well, for the record I think you should maybe try and spell it out for him.”

                “It’s kind of nice having him like me for just me…”

                “Leonardo…” Vi says, and he can hear the reproach in her tone. “He already likes you. Don’t think he’s going to care about your very limited claim to fame.”

                “Yeah, but you know people think of me differently when they see the TV version of me, and then meet me in person.”

                “I don’t think Jake is going to be one of them.”

                “Yeah? Why do you think that?”

                “Because of the way he adds sauce to fucking everything. If there was a guy who cared less about what you do for a job I challenge you to find him. Salsa scandalo.”

…            …            …

                “So… want to tell us about him?”

                “Why bother? You’re just going to grill him tomorrow.”

                Again silent looks are exchanged and Jake realizes that maybe Olivia is also an owner of Leo’s cookbook.

                “Are you a fan of his?” Jake asks.

                “I…” she starts, looks to Maria. “Yes.”

                “Great.”

                “Okay, you guys cannot make a big deal or embarrass me, okay?”

                “This is the first person you’ve ever brought home. It’s kind of a big deal.”

                “If you guys screw this up for me, he’ll also be the last guy I ever bring home.”

                “Okay okay, we’ll be on our best behavior. We promise.”

                Jake doesn’t trust that statement at all but it’s not like he has much choice in the matter.

EIGHTEEN

[semisgroupie]

A LITTLE DISTRACTION

hanma shuji x fem. reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: college au, public sex, fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, unprotected sex, finger sucking, creampie, denied orgasm (once), dubcon, tears, reader is called “sweetheart”, threat of getting caught, he’s very condescending and a big tease

synopsis: your boyfriend thinks you’ve been studying too much

a/n: this is my first time venturing into the world of present tense writing, don’t judge

Finals are the worst time to be on campus, everyone is cramming for all their exams and staying at the library at ungodly hours since it worked as an optimal studying space.

Everyone inside is cramming for their finals except your boyfriend, who decided to join you for moral support. He just didn’t know how long this moral support had to go on for.

He is seated next to you, watching you as your eyes scan over the text of your notes before you pick up your pen and write down what’s important to remember in your study guide. He lifts his arm to check the time then sets it down, “you’ve been studying nonstop for the past three hours.” His observation falls on deaf ears as you continue your movements, he lets out a sigh and places his hand on top of yours, halting your movements for a brief second.

“Shuji, this exam will be 35% of my grade. I wasn’t lucky enough to be in classes like yours where the final was a presentation during the semester.” You lift your eyes from your notebook and look at him, deep pools of gold are calling you in but you can’t afford to let yourself drown in them, not yet. “If you want to go back to the apartment then you should go without me, I’ll meet you back there once I’m done.”

“Like hell, there’s no way I’d let you walk back to the apartment alone this late at night. I’m staying here with you for however long it takes, I was just saying that because you haven’t touched anything I bought you from the vending machines downstairs.” He points to the untouched snacks and water he bought when you first walked into the library. You frown at the sight of them then turn your attention back to him, “I’m not hungry.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose then reaches over to grab the granola bar, he opens the packaging and holds it to your mouth. “Take a bite. If you don’t, I won’t leave you alone and I’ll get us kicked out. I’ll scream really loudly.” You raise an eyebrow at his threat but you don’t want to take the chance to determine if he’ll follow through or not. You lean in and take a bite of it then pull back as you chew it and swallow. “Good girl, now I’ll leave you alone.”

As the time passes he busies himself with games on his phone, watching some episodes of a show he downloaded and stealing your snacks. As each minute passes he also takes note of how empty the floor of the library you’re in is getting. He watches the last person leave then looks over at you, still writing down little notes in your study guide. He leans in close to your ear and places his hand on your leg, “sweetheart, everyone has gone home or back to their dorms. Don’t you think you need to do the same? Your test isn’t happening until next week so you can finish the study guide tomorrow.”

You force yourself to ignore the warm feeling of his hand on your leg and shake your head. “I can’t, this exam has some repeated questions from our midterm so I have to go over all my notes, all over again. We’ll go home soon, I promise.” You offer him a small smile, hoping that it’s enough to distract him while you stretch your fingers and hands to relieve the ache that’s building in them. But it’s not enough. His eyes travel to your hands and he watches how you massage them.

“Your hands are cramping, you’re writing too much. You need to take a break from this and just give your hands a rest.” You open your mouth to protest, to try to give him whatever excuse you can conjure on the fly but he beats you to the punch. His hand that had so conveniently rested itself on your leg has now moved up your thigh and is now grazing your slit over your panties. “If you won’t take a break yourself, I’ll just have to force you myself.”

He pulls your dampening panties to the side and lets his fingers explore your slit, collecting the juices that gather along his slender digits. Your shaky hand grabs your pen and your mind tries to focus on the words on the pages of your notebook. His fingers slide up and down your glistening slit and you can faintly hear the wet noises his movements make. You try your hardest to focus but the task is becoming nearly impossible as he slips his fingers inside you. A shaky breath leaves your lips as you feel the slight stretch and as his fingers start moving, you both curse and thank yourself for wearing a skirt.

He leans in close as he starts pumping his fingers faster, “seems like you just needed this all along, sweetheart. Why would you deny yourself when I’m right here? You know I’ll help you whenever you need it.” He coos mockingly in your ear as his palm presses against your clit. You cover your mouth with one of your hands to keep your moans to a minimum and you finally turn away from your notes to look at him. You can finally allow yourself to drown in the golden pools that have been waiting for you.

You silently plead for him to continue, to let you cum as the feeling builds in the pit of your stomach. You feel slightly light-headed from how skilled his fingers are, the warmth spreads throughout your entire body as it waits for that release you’re craving. “Are you gonna cum for me? Oh I feel it sweetheart, poor thing you’re just so close, aren’t you?” You nod as best as you can at his words, you don’t trust your voice enough to actually vocalize your want and desire. He continues his movements, curling his fingers up to touch the sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

You can feel it, you can taste the orgasm on your tongue. You’re so close, like a runner that sees the finish line after a marathon. All you need to do is cross it, you’re right there. Just a few more steps and it’s gone? It’s gone, the sensation, the feeling of his fingers, it’s no longer there. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath you take and you look at your boyfriend with big pitiful eyes. A smirk dances along his lips before he brings his wet fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“What? Are you gonna cry for me just because of a denied orgasm? Look at the tattoo on my hand sweetheart, this is your punishment. But don’t worry, I’m not that mean, I’ll give you what you need, okay?” You have to blink away your tears before he starts teasing you about that some more and then you watch how he undoes his pants. His movements are swift and his cock quickly springs out, all hard and leaking precum. You lick your lips at the sight of it but your boyfriend has other plans.

His hands grip your hips and he pulls you onto his lap. He moves one hand from you to grip the base of his cock while the other guides you to sit down on his aching length. “There we go.” He groans as he watches you take his cock and once you’re seated on it completely you can’t help the moan of pleasure that leaves your lips. But it’s a little too loud for his liking. His left hand with sin tattooed on it goes up to your mouth and he pushes two of his fingers inside, pressing down against your tongue.

“I know you can’t help it but I need you to be quiet, I know you don’t want the librarian to see what a needy little slut you are, do you?” You shake your head and let out a muffled “no” in response.

“Good girl, now get to bouncing.” You lean forward and grip the table in front of you as you start bouncing. You have to force yourself to fight against your natural instinct of slamming down on him so you don’t end up making too much noise. His other hand flips your skirt up so he can watch his cock disappear inside you. “Fuck, I love when you ride me like this sweetheart, your ass looks even more perfect than usual. You just drive me insane.” His hand smooths over your ass while he presses down on your tongue more to muffle all your sounds that threaten to escape.

You feel the burn in your legs as you continue bouncing on his cock but it’s all worth it once you get what you need. You need to cum, you feel the sensation building again, your body is getting even hotter than the last time and you shut your eyes to savor it. His hand moves from your ass to grip your waist as he thrusts up into you. You’re pushed over the edge, diving headfirst into the sweet bliss of your orgasm. He pushes his fingers further into your mouth, making you gag on them so he could keep you quiet. He grits his teeth as he thrusts up a few more times until he reaches the precipice of his own orgasm. His cum fills you up as he pulls you back against him.

Both of your bodies twitch against each other as you both come down from the highs of your orgasms. Heavy breaths leave you both and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. Once he feels you’ve relaxed around him enough, he pulls you off his cock and quickly covers your cum filled pussy with your panties. He helps you fix yourself up a bit before tucking his cock back into his pants.

“Now let’s put all these away and head back to the apartment. We’re not done yet.” Your eyes widen a bit at his words and you let out a breathy laugh. “You’re insatiable Shuji.”

He helps you gather your papers and leans down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, “what I should be hearing is, ‘thank you for the distraction’.” You turn your head to face him and press your lips to his for a short moment before pulling away.

“Thank you for the distraction, Shuji.”

taglist: @litepowee @suyacho @satmitsuplanet @benkeibear @watyousayin

[kichous]

✧･ﾟ:*   you could use me

summary. you're afraid that two weeks in a box is all that it takes to undo all of the progress you've made. series. a night of dark trees. bonus scene ! pairing. gojo satoru x gn!reader. warnings. none. word count. 1930.

Gojo’s different.

Ever since he emerged from the Prison Realm, he has been taciturn, morose, subdued. It’s disconcerting. He’s one of the liveliest people you know. It’s one of the things you love about him.

You’re still not sure how he says those little words so easily. Gojo Satoru’s world was torn asunder years ago, and he’d been dealt the same debilitating, staggering blow that still causes you to panic every time you hear the three syllables ‘I love you.’ Yet, somehow, some way, Gojo finds it in himself to voice that simple declaration to you. And he means it every time, with every fiber of his being.

It’s harder for you to speak it, your vocal cords uncooperative to an almost petulant degree, your subconscious locking the action away even in spite of your visceral protestations. You’re still searching on your hands and knees in the murky depths for the key. Only alcohol makes the search a little easier. But in your heart of hearts, you know it—it is a certainty that you love Gojo Satoru. A fact, as immutable as gravity (unless you were Kenjaku. Then you’d have to come up with another simile).

To that end, his absence hurt you. The moment you allowed yourself to fall for someone else, to finally move on from that one great loss, he was torn away from you. But it’s not his fault.

It must've been infinitely worse to be Gojo himself, stuck in what was essentially a cursed deprivation chamber for any duration of time from eternity to an instant. Not sure if eons had passed or but a second. Not knowing if the world burned his absence and those who remained rued his name, or if it had survived and everyone moved on without him. If anyone even bothered looking for a way to free him. You tried to put yourself in his place, imagining if he had gone and found a third love while you were trapped. You would’ve been happy for him, but you couldn’t deny that the simple idea of it broke your heart.

After he emerged, you stood by his side, your hand in his as he was informed of everything that had happened—everyone that had died—during his imprisonment. With every word, his shoulders sloped more and more, crushed by the weight of the world in each consonant and each vowel.

He won’t talk about it with you. When you kissed his temple and stroked his hair, uncaring of your audience in Shoko and Ino, he’d sighed and leaned a little closer. But he was silent as stone.

You wish you knew what to say to him. The way he and Geto bantered was so instinctual, an easy back-and-forth like a tennis match. You can hold your own with him, no doubt. But you’ve also got a history of deepthroating your foot where he’s concerned, so you can understand why Gojo’s a little hesitant to confide in you. He’s never had to before, why should he start now?

Oh, maybe because you love each other and that’s what supportive partners do—lean on each other? If only he’d stick around long enough for you to just tell him that.

Naturally, he refuses to make anything easy for you. Satoru’s hardly alone these days. You can’t even fault him for spending every waking moment training. If he’s going up against the King of Curses, he’ll need every advantage he can get, no matter how confident he is. You support him where you can in that regard, but you have no choice but to ambush him in between sparring with Okkotsu and sparring with Maki to actually get a word in.

“Hey, dumbass,” you call as you approach. Where it might’ve elicited an equally dry ‘What’s up, shitlips?’ once upon a time, it now earns a tired smile. Not the ideal reaction.

“I didn’t do anything,” protests Satoru, allowing you to soften the insult with a quick kiss. He’s sitting on a bench with his legs wide enough for you to step in the space between, and he wraps his arms loosely around your waist. “Why’re you being such a meanie?”

“Why are you overcompensating?” The verbal suckerpunch gets him in the solar plexus, causing Gojo to stare up at you wide-eyed with his mouth falling open defensively. You press a finger to his lips. Satoru goes a little cross-eyed trying to focus on it, and so you flick him on the nose to retrieve his attention. “I get it, if it’s for the kids. You’re their teacher. You’re everything they want to be when they grow up, they see you as a protector, blah, blah. But you don’t have to be strong with me. I know you. I know you. You don’t have to pretend, okay?”

“Don’t I?”

That stings, probably more than he meant it to. You don’t imagine Satoru ever intends to be cruel, because even at his worst, his sadism is meant for curses. But you’d thought he considered you an equal. Or as close as one could be without being a special grade, at least. It was foolish of you to think that the wall between you had crumbled any, at least as far as your skill level was concerned. It’s been years since anyone ever talked about how you could’ve become the fourth special grade if you ever managed to get a tighter rein on your technique. Okkotsu’s taken your place since then.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you move closer to tuck his head into your sternum. “No, you don’t. We’re partners, aren’t we?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. Something warm stirs in your chest as his eyes flutter shut and he hums a quiet, pleased purr. You’re a haven to him. “You love me and I—I love you. That means you don’t have to do this alone.”

He says nothing at first, simply nuzzling closer. There’s no sound but your shared breath, steady and even. His arms tighten around you. It’s a little uncomfortable having to crane your neck down to kiss the top of Satoru’s head, but the little sigh he gives is worth it. It’s the little things with Gojo. With such a bombastic person, large and grandiose efforts are commonplace, attention-grabbing gestures all Satoru knows. The strongest must be larger than life. So you end up treasuring the opposite—the way his long, spindly fingers fit in the slits between yours, the way his long lashes tickle your cheek when you kiss, how he loves to rest his elbow on your shoulder when you stand next to each other, the perfect roost. These tiny bits combine to make everything feel grounded, real.

After a moment, he pulls away, and light starts to creep back into his eyes. They look more like the sky again, rather than an iceberg field in the Arctic Circle. Good. “Does that mean I can tap you in during the fight?” Satoru asks cheekily.

You toss your head and give an exaggerated tsk. “I haven’t decayed from my Grade One rank, I’ll have you know! I may not be a spring chicken, but I can still pack a punch!” For emphasis, you smash your fist into your other palm.

“Not a spring chicken?” Satoru repeats incredulously. “We’re the same age! What does that make me?!”

You tug lightly on a few strands of his snowy hair. “A geriatric old man, duh.”

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah? Could an old man do this?”

Satoru’s up on his feet in an instant, one hand sliding up your back and the other wrapping just below your shoulders as he dips you in a kiss. He savors it, plying gently past your lips with his tongue. Satoru moans as you slip your fingers through his locks, a sound that makes your lips and extremities tingle. He steals the breath from your lungs, and you don’t hate it.

“Well.” Your voice is but a rasp when he finally pulls away. The man radiates smugness. Somehow, you find it endearing. “I’m sure Harrison Ford could.”

Satoru’s face breaks open with a full, hearty, genuine laugh. Pulling you upright to use as an anchor, he buries his face into your neck. His entire body vibrates in tandem with his giggles, the warmth of his breath a pleasant sensation on your skin compared to the wintry frost around you. Satoru blinks as you use your index finger to tip his face upwards. “What is it?” he asks, a little breathless.

“I love your smile,” you tell him honestly. “I love you.”

His cheeks grow pink. You doubt it’s because of the cold, your heart fluttering at the thought. You’ve managed to make Gojo shy. In lieu of a verbal response, he gently rests his forehead against yours. You’re aware you’re probably obstructing the walkway, and that if any of the students happened upon you, they would violently gag, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Satoru is here, in the flesh. You thought you’d lost him when he got sealed away, and then again when he emerged sweeping the broken pieces of himself under the rug. That even if you could hold him, it wouldn’t be the Satoru you loved, nor the Satoru who loved you. Who saw something broken in you that was worth cherishing, worth putting back together piece by painstaking piece. Who never faulted you for giving up but encouraged you to try again, whose heartbreak echoed yours and stood as proof that there was a brighter tomorrow. The Satoru who taught you it was okay to be okay again. You’re sick and tired of lost chances, of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Maybe that’s why the words finally, finally slip so easily from your mouth—so you wouldn’t ever miss the opportunity to tell him again.

Gojo rubs his cheek gently against yours, sharing his heat. He’s always run a little warm. “I promise that I’ll share my burdens with you from now on. Even if I can’t promise you won’t hate me by the end of it.” A solemn vow, the seriousness of his tone unfamiliar to you. But not unpleasant.

“I already knew loving you was going to be rotten work,” you tease. “That’s never bothered me. What you can promise me is that you’ll come back to me. Otherwise, I’ll bring you back as a curse when you die. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Satoru chuckles. “Will you at least make sure I look prettier than Rika?”

“She heard that.” You have no idea how long Okkotsu’s been standing there—what he heard or saw, whether he’s going to blab to any of the other kids. There’s a small bemused grin on his face, but it’s eclipsed by the overall chagrin of his furrowed brows. He’s embarrassed for you. PDA at your old age? His generation probably thinks you look like two skeletons mashing their teeth together.

Breaking out of your frozen shock, you and Satoru share a glance. Then, after a moment, you break the silence with simultaneous cackling. It’s hard to tell whether it’s the situation or the looks on your faces that sparks such an interminable fit. You fall against each other in your laughter, using one another as a column. He’s sturdy and solid and he’s there for you. And that’s what you’ll be for Satoru too. Steady and strong and unmovable. Unbreakable. Everything he’s been for the world, you’ll be for him.

Whatever it takes.

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

Any darker headcannons on Toby?

“TICCI” TOBY DARK HEADCANNONS

Oh how I’ve been dying to do dark headcannons!

[nsfw under the cut!]

I know it’s said he has bipolar disorder but honestly I see him as more of a BPD kind of guy. His moods can switch on a dime and that seems to fit more with BPD than the long highs and lows of bipolar.

Continuing on that thought, when he flips to that wild anger of his it’s absolutely terrifying. He goes on rampages where he’ll scream and yell while running around the mansion punching holes in walls and swinging his hatchets into doors. Often when the person who set him off tried to lock themselves away

He definitely beats the fuck out of himself and others, and he’s most certainly slapped, punched, or slammed your head into the table once or twice (more about this further down)

Usually after his rampages it’ll be close to three days to a week of solitude. He can’t bare to show his face after such an event. He’ll lock himself away and rot away in bed.

He’ll use his sickly sweet niceness to get what he wants. So don’t play into it until you’re close. Like years of knowing each other close. He’s practically a master of manipulation, knowing exactly what to say and do to get what he wants. He’ll use his perceived dumbness in his favor.

Due to his past he has some… Trust issues… To say the very least. He needs to know where you are practically 24/7. So when you’re gone for too long or you don’t respond to a text he automatically assumes the worst. You don’t want him?? Did he not give you enough? Everything you could possibly need? And back to the manipulation thing, he’ll make sure you feel terrible about not checking in. You’ll question if you’re even enough for him.

He’d definitely lose it during those times you’re away for too long or won’t check in. So when you get home he’ll be clutching his head and crying. When he sees you walk through the door he’ll immediately be on you, yelling and screaming about how you don’t love him. Telling you that you’re in for a punishment as he grabs a hammer or raises his fist. He’d probably break your arm and make it seem like it was your fault for ending up here.

He just gives me Tate Langdon from AHS vibes

He’s clingy to the point it’s almost scary. You can’t hang out with anyone without him lurking in the background. And circling back around to previous statements, if you hang out with anyone without telling him, there’s trouble in store for you.

Also if anyone calls him “Ticci” Toby, consider that your last words. It irritates him to no end and he has no problem cutting heads off

He’s never fucked anyone, he just screams virgin. So he’s the type to jerk off wayyyyyyyy too much. Like it’s concerning how often you hear it happening. And he’s absolutely shameless about it too. If you walk in while he’s at it, he’ll give you a sly grin and try and get you to join

And when he finally gets his hands on you there’s no stopping him. He doesn’t give a fuck if he hurts you, he can’t feel pain so how on earth could you? He won’t stop until he’s satisfied, he doesn’t care if you bleed, cry, scream or beg him to stop.

That first time would probably be hell for you. It would probably get better after a few more times, but he’d definitely laugh at your pain

He’s rather impatient when it comes to PDA or sex. He wants it and he wants it now

I hope you enjoyed this and it seems accurate! I’d love to indulge in requests with this side of Toby, I think it would be quite interesting 😉

[starstruckkittensweets]

"Promise Me" | Gojo x Reader

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Words: 2.3k

A/N: no one talk to me, this is my way of coping with the latest chapter. This week is not a fun one for us Gojo lovers. Also this scenario has probably been written a thousand times at this point (thanks a lot Gege) but here's my two cents on the matter (go figure, my first official Gojo post and he's fuckin dead)

Warnings: JJK 236 SPOILERS, mentions of fem!reader, nightmares, brief mentions of violence/gore, pet names (baby, sweets, pretty girl), very self-indulgent and I apologize for that

Nightmares are a common occurrence in your line of work; you knew that even before you agreed to take the job. Usually you can stand them when they hit. Staring into the shadows of your bedroom, wide eyes raking over every little thing inside, too scared to even move a muscle. Knowing that, once you do, the illusion will vanish. The fear will go away, bit by bit, until you feel comfortable enough to fall back asleep.

Till the next morning, when you can’t even remember what you were so afraid of.

But this time is different. Your body isn’t frozen at all; you don’t snuggle deeper into the blankets, praying that they’ll be enough to protect you from whatever creatures lurk in the night. In fact they’re suffocating—but even when you throw them off you’re still heaving like a madman. Cold sweat clamming up your skin. Hands trembling at your sides. Eyes nearly bursting from your skull when you realize the other side of the bed is empty.

Empty, empty—where is he? Where did he go?

Was your dream not actually a dream after all?

You’re shaking so hard when you force your way out of bed. Nearly toppling over your own two feet as you stumble out of the bedroom. The door’s cracked open, but there aren’t any lights on, where is he, where the fuck is he?!

Another step, round the corner, and suddenly you smack face first into something hard. A soft oof reaches your ears, and through the darkness and the veil of your tears, you can barely make out the two blue lights glowing at you from above.

“Whoa, careful! Sorry about that, almost didn’t see you there. What’re you doing up so late, baby?”

Your eyes are still blurry, no matter how many times you blink. But you can still see him, his hair messy from sleep, wearing nothing but a pair of old sweatpants. He offers a lazy smile, but it drops almost instantly when he sees the tears spilling down your burning cheeks.

“…Hey, what’s wrong?”

Maybe it’s the tender tone of his voice, the soft way he speaks those three simple words. Or maybe it’s the fact you can see his eyes dim ever so slightly, signaling he’s turned off his technique for the moment. Or maybe it’s just knowing that he’s here, still alive and breathing and in one fucking piece, that makes you lose control. (Not that you had very much to begin with, but still.)

He visibly jolts at the shrill wail that rips from your throat, his whole body rigid as you throw yourself against his chest. Tiny arms wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his muscular back. Almost as though you’re scared he’ll disappear, anchoring him to you with every bit of strength you have.

What does he do? You’re obviously in distress, but why? He’d just left to get a glass of water, he’d been gone for less than five minutes! And now you’re blubbering like a child into his bare chest, sobbing so loudly he’s surprised none of your neighbors have come banging on your door.

“Baby, come on,” he tries, but the pet name only seems to make you cry harder. He winces before taking hold of both your shoulders. He doesn’t bother trying to pry you away; no need to make you even more upset. “You gotta tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

Damn it, everything he’s saying is just making it worse. He hates seeing you cry like this. So tiny and frail, curling into his chest, incoherent words and noises spilling from your lips. You won’t answer him or let go of his body, no matter how many times he tries to convince you.

Does he just ride it out and let you finish? What if you pass out? Will you still remember any of this by the time you wake up tomorrow? Was it something he said earlier that made you this upset? He wracks his brain, trying to see if any of his earlier teasing struck a nerve within you. He doesn’t recall saying anything that could prompt this kind of reaction out of you…

Then again, what could? You’re his girl, his other half (as he’s quick to remind you and everyone else within earshot). Strong but soft, a capable sorcerer climbing the ranks with ease. You have an unshakeable character, sticking true to your values and morals no matter what. It’s one of the reasons why he fell in love with you in the first place. Not just anything could resort you to a crying, trembling mess in his arms.

He sucks in a deep breath and tries again. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I promise I’ll make it all better, I swear!”

And he’s just about to bribe you with some of the sweets he’s stashed away in the kitchen when you lift your head from his chest. Cheeks hot and tearstained, and yet you’re still so beautiful.

“S-sorry,” you barely manage to choke out. Your throat’s practically on fire, and you can already feel a monster of a headache coming on. “I…I had…”

He doesn’t say anything. He simply wipes your tears away with his thumb, waiting patiently for you to finish.

“…I had a bad dream…”

It sounds so fucking childish when you say it out loud. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut, gone back to bed once you saw he was okay. What do you expect he’ll do about it, huh? Not like he can erase your bad memories, no matter how strong he might be.

But that hole in your chest is still there, even after all that crying—

And you can’t help it anymore. You press your palms to your face, desperately trying to rid your fact of all those tears. Wanting to save at least some of your dignity before the night’s over.

A pair of warm hands close over your wrists, his touch surprisingly gentle as he pulls your hands away. Exposing your teary, blubbering face to those beautiful blue eyes. The mere thought makes you want to cry all over again.

“C’mon now, you’re too pretty to cry like that.” The corner of his mouth is quirked up in a smile, his messy hair hanging over his eyes as he tilts his head to meet your gaze. He catches another tear on his thumb, making sure to wipe it away before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I don’t like seeing you all upset like that.”

“B-but”—oh fuck, here you go again—“you were…you were dead!”

You can still remember everything so clearly. The blood trickling from his mouth. The glazed look in those dull eyes. How fucking fast it all seemed to happen. One moment he was fine, breathing and smiling as usual, and the next he was staring up at the sky. You didn’t even hear his body drop to the ground.

So much blood, it’s not supposed to be out of your body like that, why couldn’t I save you, why couldn’t—

“I’m sorry!” you blurt out, even as he takes you in his arms and pulls you against his chest. “I wasn’t enough to save you! You were dead and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it!”

You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point, but for whatever reason, talking about this seems to help. Your chest feels a bit lighter than it did before, even if your heart’s as heavy as a stone.

“You’re not supposed to die! And I know that’s stupid of me to say, everyone dies at some point, but you always say you’re the strongest! No one can hurt you, even if they tried! So why—”

Your voice catches in your throat, tears still streaming down your face. He still holds you close, one arm around your waist, his other hand resting on the back of your head.

“…Why did you leave me? You said you’d never leave me, no matter what! But you did—and I let it happen—I’m so fucking sorry, Satoru, I just—”

You’re running out of steam, you can feel it in your bones. Too exhausted to cry anymore, probably too burnt out to even walk back to your room. But before you can even try he’s lifting your face in his hands, tracing your swollen lips with his thumb.

Smirking down at you like there’s nothing wrong in the world.

“Why are you sorry, sweets? If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Sorry that dream version of me was such a cheap imitation.” He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Like I’d let myself get killed like that.”

“S-Satoru, I’m serious!”

“And so am I.” And you can see it in his face—the way his eyes practically burn into yours, his mouth set in a tight line, his jaw clenched even when he forces out the words. “I said I’d never leave you, right?”

You sniffle out, “Y-yeah…”

“And I meant it. So no matter how many bad dreams you might have of me,” he curls his hands around your thighs and lifts you up effortlessly, securing your body against his chest, “just know that they’re dreams. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Slowly, he begins to carry you back to your room. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying their way into his soft white hair. You’ll never get over how strong he is, how amazing he is—and how of all the people in the world, he chose to share the rest of his life with you.

Not strong enough to save himself from dying.

Your throat fills with bile at the thought, even as he settles you back down against the mattress. Back in the place where your nightmare occurred, where you saw his body and all that blood—

“Don’t leave me!”                                      

“Baby, I wasn’t even planning on it.” Damn, this nightmare really messed with your head, huh? “I’m staying right here with you, alright?”

You won’t disappear on me again? You won’t leave me alone like you did in that dream, right?

He seems to see right through you, given the soft expressing in those dazzling blue eyes. “I promise, I won’t leave your side. Not tonight, not ever.”

It takes a few moments for the two of you to get situated in bed; Satoru ends up having to do most of the work, since your arms and legs are still trembling uncontrollably. But the second the blankets are back around you, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. Long legs tangling with yours, his breath warm against the crown of your head.

Lips soft as they press a thousand kisses to your forehead.

“I don’t know what kind of curse you dreamt of, but if I ever came across something like it one of these days…” He leans down, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “…I’d win, hands down.”

“You’d better.” Your head’s pounding something fierce, every bone in your body screaming for some proper rest. And it starts to feel normal, being wrapped up in Satoru’s arms. “…Otherwise, I’d have to kick your ass.”

He lets out a laugh before nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. His long eyelashes tickle your skin, his lips sweet and warm when they finally find your own.

“I’m sure you would. Although, I’d never let that happen; I’ll make sure to win every single fight, I swear! Don’t wanna make my pretty girl worry about me.”

But you’re always going to worry about him. It’s in your blood, comes with the territory of keeping this relationship alive. And maybe it’s stupid, maybe he is strong enough to never have to worry about himself in a fight. But there’s always going to be that part of you that wonders if he’s going to make it home tonight.

You tilt your head, eager to taste his lips again. Like your life depends on it, and the thought makes him smirk.

“Aww, can’t get enough of me, sweets?”

“…Shut up.”

But he knows he’s right. And you know he’s right. Doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud, though.

“You know I meant it, right?” Suddenly he’s holding your face again, brushing his nose against your own. His voice strangely soft as he leans in close, warm breath ghosting over your face. “’M not leaving you. Never, ever, ever!”

That gets a smile out of you. Weak and pitiful, but a smile nonetheless. At least he’s earnest. At the end of the day, he means well when it comes to you.

“I know you won’t. …So thank you.” You return his hug, sneaking your hand between your bodies and pressing it against his chest. Your throat growing tight when you feel the familiar b-bmp of his heart against your trembling palm. “Thank you for staying with me.”

There’s that tiny voice in the back of your head, urging you not to listen to such pointless promises. Knowing that deep down, neither of you can stop death when it comes knocking at your door. No matter how much power he possesses, even Satoru Gojo can’t resist death’s clutches when they finally sink their claws into him.

But there’s time for you to deal with all of that in the future. Right here, right now, he’s safe and sound in your arms. Messy white hair tickling your neck as he nibbles on the skin of your earlobe. Making you giggle as he brushes the rest of your tears away.

And thanking whatever deity may be listening above that you get to spend just one more night with him, wrapped up in his arms with his lips against your own.

[talkfastlibrary]

A Second Meeting—Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

**the dress photo is simply for the outfit not how I imagine reader to be! So it’s here simply for outfit choice🙂

An Arrangement Masterlist

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Synopsis: you meet up with Jake again to discuss The Arrangement but your questions remain unanswered. Yet, you find out a bit more about Jake.

word count: 2.2k

Feedback is always welcome!

Enjoy!

****

Three days have gone by since dinner with Jake and you’re starting to think it was an illusion or a weird dream. Reynolds has been driving you everywhere just like Jake said which was nice to save money on gas but also strange because you’re not used to this. 

On Thursday Reynolds arrived with a black legal envelope and you ask if it’s the paperwork Jake mentioned. Reynolds nodded and you left it on your counter for two more days.

A week and many debates in your mind later, you finally decided to open it just to see what’s inside. You’re surprised to find it’s only five pages long. The first couple are about him, his schooling, random information, his accomplishments both in the Navy and otherwise, his likes and dislikes. 

Then there’s lists of what you’ll have access to; his house(s), cars, private plane, vacation homes, a credit card of hers linked to his account and then any form of a physical relationship should you desire one. He lists that he’s a good cuddler and gives great massages. He says he will be an ear for her whenever she needs and that he’s as much her companion as she is his.

The last page lists what she’d need to oblige to; the Naval Aviation birthday at the end of the month, naval dinners, weddings, vacations, and family get-togethers. At the bottom is a place for the both of them to sign then a post-it note from him stating your grandmother’s medical bills and further assistance from nursing staff has been taken care of by him. 

A lump forms in your throat at that nugget of information and just to make sure you open up your emails to see the final payment notices from all of your grandmother’s expenses. The papers drop to the floor and you’re soon to follow in a crumpled heap. You start to cry but then pull  yourself together quickly because you know once you start you won’t be able to stop. 

“Keep it together,” you whisper to yourself and shuffle the papers back in order. 

Then you start to truly think of all the things he can help you with financially; you could move your grandma back home, pay off your loans and debts on credit cards you used for your grandma. You pick up the last piece of paper that has his note and there’s a phone number next to it. 

You take out your phone and type in the number followed by a quick text:

I read the paperwork. I still have questions. Can we meet again?

His response is fairly quick back:

Of course. Join me for brunch tomorrow? Reynolds will know where to take you, he’ll be there by 11:00

You simple like the response. Your heart is pounding. 

Are you actually going to agree to this?

***

Reynolds is knocking on your door at 11:00 and he smiles when you open the door. 

“Good morning, Reynolds.”

“Good morning, Miss y/n.”

“I hate to ask…but does this look okay? I don’t want to be underdressed,” you press down on your light green dress. It reminded you of Jake’s eyes. 

“You look wonderful. Mr. Seresin will agree, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you exhale and follow him to the car. “Where are we going?”

“A favorite brunch spot of his called Horizons.”

“Oh…” you chew on your lip as you climb into the backseat. You were almost hoping it would be at his home, surely he has staff to cook for him. Why would he want to cook for you anyway?

The drive is only thirty minutes and you’re tapping on the black envelope with the paperwork you pulled from your bag. You run through the questions you had so you don’t forget them. When you arrive at the restaurant you see it’s along the water, luxury cars are shining in the morning sun. 

Just like with dinner, the host walks you to the back on the deck outside where Jake is. He stands up when you appear, all smiles and so very handsome. He looks wonderful in tan chinos and a green sweater that matches your dress perfectly. 

“Good morning, y/n,” he greets. His eyes slide down to the envelope but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Morning,” you respond shyly. 

“I hope you’re hungry, they have wonderful omelets,” he pulls out your chair. 

“Do they have pancakes?”

“Yes, they have pancakes.”

After placing your order and being given your drinks, you slide the black envelope on the table but Jake covers your hand. You look up and he has a slight frown on his face. 

“We don’t have to talk about that now,” he removes his hand then proceeds to cut up his egg. “Tell me about your week, what did you do?”

You stare at him in confusion and he senses your hesitancy. He shifts his gaze from his breakfast to your puzzled expression. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m so confused and have so many questions about all of this…”

“I know, and I promise we will discuss it.”

“But you said the ball was in my court, so can’t we talk about it now?”

“That depends,” he grins.

“On?”

“By saying the ball is in your court…does that mean you agree and signed the form?”

You close your mouth then huff because you haven’t agreed to anything and definitely didn’t sign for it. You felt a bit of a kinship to the little mermaid, Ariel, signing that could mean signing your life away for all you knew. You were going to voice all your concerns. He smiles back easily because he knows he’s got you, and it’s not in a patronizing way which makes it worse.

“That’s what I thought. Now, tell me about your week. I’ve thought of you everyday.”

Your stomach flips at that comment. How does he do that? He slips in these one liners that always catches you off guard but also makes you feel fuzzy inside. 

You continue your breakfast and tell him about your week. How busy you’ve been, how late you’ve been getting home from work and the constant headache you seem to be getting. While you’re talking you realize how easy it is to talk to him. You spill everything you’ve been feeling and he really listens which is something you’re not used to. 

While he takes care of the bill you gaze out at the water watching the waves ebb and flow.

“Would you like to walk along the beach?” he asks.

“Could we?”

“Of course, I take it you didn’t bring a sweater?”

“No…”

“I came prepared,” he nods, then pulls a cream cardigan from the back of his chair as he stands. You stand up as well. 

“I’ll be okay–”

But then a breeze blows and you shiver. He gives you a knowing look then holds up the cardigan. You turn around as he helps you put it on,  his fingers brush the top of your arms and you shiver again. 

“Fits you perfectly,” he mumbles, his breath blowing in your ear. He’s standing very close to you.

“Is it yours?” you spin away from him. Being so close is making it hard for you to think. 

“No. I bought it for you.”

“What?” you squeak, eyes widening at the gesture. “You didn’t have to–”

“I wanted to,” he shrugs, placing his hands in his pockets. He rolls back and forth on the balls of his feet then jerks his head towards the water. “How about that walk?”

It’s a little steep and rocky getting down to the water, you’re grateful you decided on a nice pair of sandals and not your wedges you were debating on. There’s one more big drop and you pause staring at the distance of it. Jake hopped down no problem.

“Jump,” he holds out his arms, “I’ve got you.”

You inch forward, some pebbles tumble to the earth as you crouch down. You gauge the distance again between you and his open arms.

“Are you sure?” you chew on your lip.

“Positive. Jump, y/n,” he commands softly, his fingers motioning you forward.

You suck in a deep breath, close your eyes and push off. You gasp the short moment you’re in the air and then you’re in the sturdy arms of Jake, his hands curve around your waist and lower back while yours is locked behind his neck. 

“Why’d you close your eyes?” he asks.

“So it’d be over faster,” you exhale.

He sets you down, gently releasing you from his hold. You’re not sure if he did that to keep you at ease or if he didn’t really want to touch you.

“You have more questions, don’t you?” he moves through the sand and you follow.

“Only a hundred.”

You walk in silence for a bit and he still keeps a chaste distance between the two of you then a realization comes to your mind. 

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I have Sundays off,” he shrugs gazing out on the water.

“Oh…” 

“Would you like to sit for a while?” he motions towards a large piece of driftwood that has been flattened enough to make a decent bench. You nod and join him on the smooth wood.

You count in your head to eighty-three seconds then take that as your cue to ask your first question. You open your mouth but he speaks first. 

“Amazing how water can be so calm and then so violent the next, isn’t it?”

You stare out at the water, a few white caps rolling in and then outlines of boats in the distance. It doesn’t look too bad from here but you’ve read about riptides and how dangerous they can be under the surface of the water.

“Do you not like the water?” you ask carefully, somehow this seems like a sensitive topic for him.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs leaning on his knees. “It reminds me of you, actually. You look so calm and peaceful on the outside but on the inside, you’ve got a riptide, a true force. I saw it last week at dinner with how quick you jumped to all of those conclusions about me.”

You sit up a little straighter at the mention of riptides, it was like he was reading your mind. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no, you have every right to think of all angles of this. I want to know your questions, y/n, I do. But I first need you to trust me that there is no recourse or trap of some kind.”

“How can I trust you when I hardly know you?” you’re staring at him as he stares at the water, the soft oceanic breeze tousles his hair. The undersides of his eyes look a little dark, like he hasn’t been sleeping. 

“You read all about me in the paperwork.”

“That’s not the same, that’s just words on a sheet but it doesn’t really show me who you are. And signing it would feel like I’m signing my life away to the devil or Ursula.”

“Ursula?” he cocks his head to the side smirking, “from the Little Mermaid?”

“Yes. Ariel lost her voice, I don’t want to lose mine.”

“That’s not going to happen. You have a wonderful voice that is very sure and profound. You might be a little closer to the devil aspect.”

“Are you the devil?”

“I’ve been referred to him once or twice,” he nods. “Does that scare you?”

You squint your eyes at him puckering your lips. You notice the way his eyes flick down to your lips and you look over the top of his head.

“Turn forward,” you instruct and he does so, “now look to the right…”

“What are you looking for?”

“Horns. I don’t see any so you must not be the devil.”

That makes him laugh, it causes his eyes to crinkle and you can see how nice his teeth are. He really does have a great smile.

“You’re sweet.”

“Can we discuss the paperwork now?” 

“Not yet, let’s enjoy the water for a bit longer.”

You sit in silence watching the waves roll and flower over the shore with seagulls swooping down low. The water looks so inviting you remove your sandals then walk to the edge of the beach. The wet sand is a little cool but the squish feels nice between your toes. You take a few paces forward and then the water rolls over your feet causing you to squeal at the coolness. You close your eyes inhaling the fresh salty air, the skirt of your dress flapping against your legs and one sleeve of your cardigan falls down your shoulder. 

Your questions are still bouncing around your head but now a new part of you is wishing Jake would come up behind you and wrap his arms around you. You want to hear his voice close to your ear again and maybe see what his smile feels like against your own lips. With a sigh, you open your eyes then turn around to see he’s already staring at you, his gaze intense and smoldering. It makes your cheeks warm and also a little sad because you can see a violent storm in his eyes, just like the one he was talking about with the water. 

What’s his violent storm?

[love-that-we-were-in]

Call An Ambulance... But Not For Me

Luke teaches Percy to drive. Well, kind of.

A/N: this is just some silly goofy while i work through writers block. i MIGHT come back to it. also it's a mortal au so there's that :)

Luke doesn’t know how he got dragged into this. Well, he does. It was very simple actually - he needed money, Annabeth’s friend had a reputation no one wanted to deal with when it came to putting him behind the wheel and a third secret motive he refuses to acknowledge that happened to be back in town for the first time all year. 

He’s not nervous. 

There’s nothing to worry about with Percy Jackson. He’s known the kid since he was twelve, sitting on the floor outside the classroom when there was a perfectly good chair next to him. He’s a good kid – maybe not the brightest or most polite – but good. A great friend, for sure, or Annabeth wouldn’t still be attached. Luke knows what Percy can be like and he knows his car will be perfectly safe, even if he’s in the passenger seat for once. 

“We’re just going to take it slow,” is the first thing he tells Percy, even before the kid has his seatbelt on. “I want you to talk me through everything on the console.”

“Luke, I’ve been behind the wheel before,” Percy laughs, but he does as asked. Indicator, wipers, handbrake. Two and ten. Accelerate, brake, clutch. He knows it all. “Am I allowed to drive now?”

“I had to be sure, okay.”

Percy looks at him like he knows exactly why he’s here. He forgets, sometimes, that they’ve grown up while he’s become an adult. Annabeth and Percy. They’ve learnt more while he’s been gone, become more if he listens to the rumor mill (he’s waiting for Annabeth to tell him herself) and Percy’s always been people-focused. Luke wouldn’t be shocked if the kid knew more about him than anyone.

“I’m not going to crash your car.” Percy turns the ignition on, finally. “Have you got any CDs?” 

“Drive in silence. No distractions.” 

It goes well. He was expecting worse, the way everyone was talking about Percy’s history in his drivers ed class. But it’s fine. They stop at red lights and go at green. He checks his mirrors. He goes the speed limit – there’s moments where Luke can see him itching to press the pedal down further, to go faster, but he doesn’t so it’s a win – and they can make conversation while he does it all. 

Why this was such a big deal to Sally and Annabeth, he doesn’t know. The kid is a fine driver. Luke has no doubt he’ll pass his test (or the actual driving part at least) and he’s only slightly put out that he won’t have to do it a few more times to get Percy up to scratch. 

“Can you parallel park yet?” 

“Do I look like I can parallel park?” Percy answers and it’s the same tone Luke’s heard him use a million times before, the one that says ‘I absolutely did that thing I’m in trouble for but you can’t prove it', so he waits. “I’ve managed it a couple times, yeah.” 

“Wanna give it a go now?” 

They’re almost at Percy’s, the other end of town from where they started, and they’re both safe and calm. Some would call that a huge success. He’s pretty sure Annabeth will call it the bare minimum. They’re pretty much the same thing. 

Luke relaxes into the passenger seat as Percy pulls in front of an empty space. The road is practically empty, he can see maybe three people on the street total. It’s a perfect time to parallel park. He can happily tell Sally that her son will pass his test in a few weeks and pretend it doesn’t suck that he won’t have an excuse to swing by the Jacksons house every week.

It takes him a second to notice Percy mumbling to himself. 

“You okay, buddy?” 

Percy nods and it’s the first time Luke has really seen him concentrate on what he’s doing. There’s an intensity he doesn’t normally carry, a set to his shoulders and fingers tight on the wheel, and Luke sits up a little more. He’s not worried, not after how smooth the drive so far has been, but he’ll match Percy’s energy a little bit more. 

He thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind, that if he’d let the boy play music, he would’ve turnt it down right now. 

“You’ve got time, Percy,” is what he says instead of giving advice. Honestly, he’s not sure what advice he could give until the kid told him what he was nervous about exactly. He’s not actually a driving instructor after all. “Take a breath.” 

He does. 

And another. 

“I’m going to start now.” Percy says and Luke nods. Then he says “okay” because he realizes Percy is looking determinedly at the windshield. 

Forward. Turn the wheel. Reverse. Turn the wheel. 

Luke watches as he makes every move, breathing deeply with each one. He sits in silence, at ease. Finally, finally, Percy starts to relax as he slowly, so slowly, inches his way into the space. A couple more minutes and he’ll be home free. 

Maybe Luke can offer to help him master his parking instead of calling it quits completely. 

Then, just as Percy lets out all of his breath, calmer all of a sudden, he presses down on the accelerator. Just slightly too much. 

A jolt (the hood bashes against the door of another car), the sound of a horn (it takes Luke a moment to realise it’s Percy who’s pressing it, holding it down with his elbow and glaring, and another moment to slap his arm and make it stop) and he squints.

“Did you just crash into your sister?” 

Percy gulps. “Do you think she’ll know it was me if we just leave?” 

Luke sighs. 

“Lesson number two. What to do when you get into an accident.”

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ vi. reader/suguru

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⭑๋࣭ summary page

Reader

These past few weeks have been interesting, to say the least. After randomly seeing Suguru at my cousin-in-law’s party,  and watching Toji beat him up, let’s just say I've been a bit on edge. Not as much as my husband, though. 

 I know how overprotective Toji can be. He’s been this way before we started officially dating. Most women would hate how possessive and overbearing their partners can be, but not me. Something about how Toji acts makes me even more attracted to him. 

 His hold on me. His jealousy. His gruffness. Gosh, it freaking turns me on. I know, call me crazy, but it’s my truth. 

 Anyways. That’s besides the point.

 Since the whole Suguru situation, Toji has been by my side. When we have sex, he would pull me into embrace, tighter than usual, and his body heat would transfer to me, providing a warmth I know I can only feel from him. 

 We started running errands together. Going to sleep at the same time, but sometimes, he would wait until I dozed off until he eventually did. It even got to the point where we took all our showers together. . . That also winded into sex. 

 My speculation is that the Suguru bullshit sparked an emotion I thought he could never feel. Hearing how he forced himself on me, attempting to take my body without my permission, not only angered him, but scared him. 

  It’s my job to protect you, and I didn’t, is what he told me after we made love a few weeks ago. 

 I hate that Toji felt that way because he did protect me. Despite our fluctuating marriage this past year, there was never a time I didn’t feel protected by Toji. However, I can’t help but feel solely responsible for this mess. 

 My relationship with Suguru should’ve never happened. I should’ve declined his sexual advances the night we met. And I should’ve ignored him when I saw him at the bakery. I’m not diminishing how Toji neglected me in our marriage, but nothing can justify me stepping out on him. 

 Not for temporary lust.

 This shit with Suguru has gotten way out of control. Him saying that he loves me, suggesting I should leave Toji for him. Admitting that he listened to me and Toji having sex while we were at Naoya’s party. Thinking I’m going to be crawling back to him once Toji  (if, which he won’t) fucks up again. 

 I’m not interested in this potential fatal attraction. 

 I just hope that’s the last time I see Suguru. 

 “Sweets, you in here?” Toji calls for me. 

 “Yeah, I am.” He comes behind to give me a sweet open mouthed kiss on my neck. “Everything’s okay?”

 “Yeah. The place was quiet for a while, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 I turn to face him. “Just thinking.”

 “About?”

 “Nothing, baby. I’m okay.”

 Toji holds my chin between his fingers, firmly saying, “Y/N.”

 It’s like he sees right through me.

 I deeply sigh. “Just everything that happened a few weeks ago.”

 “That fucker been messing with you again?”

 “No, no,” I reassured him. “I haven’t heard from him since that night.”

 He hums. “You’ll be okay while I’m gone handling this contract?”

 “Yeah, the gun is here.”

 He looks at me with skepticism because I know the last thing he wants to do is leave me for three days, especially since he’ll be in another country. But I’m aware of Toji’s lifestyle. One of the first things he trusted me with. It took some time at first for me to accept, however, knowing the type of contracts he took made me weirdly comfortable. 

 “Okay,” still sounding hesitant, but rubs my cheek with his thumb. “I’m heading out now. Be back on Friday.”

 I balance on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. “Be safe. . . I love you, Toji.”

 “I love you, too.”

Suguru

 Love can make you do crazy things. Well, I wouldn’t consider what I’m doing as crazy, per se. More so, passionate. Yeah, I’d like to think of myself as a passionate lover. I love hard, strong, and deeply. Others may consider my feelings as overbearing, but when being in love with a woman like Y/N, you have to be.

 She deserves to be desired. Sought at constantly. Fucked daily. Loved loudly. I possibly couldn’t deserve her because I’m not worthy enough, but she deserves to be someone like me. Not her shitty ass fucking husband. 

 I hate that piece of shit. He ruined me and Y/N’s moment a few weeks ago. We were doing perfectly fine until he showed up. Yeah, maybe she was being a bit stubborn, but a few kisses and words of reassurance would’ve helped. 

 How else am I supposed to win her back if I don’t stay persistent? Last thing I want is for Y/N to think I don’t care about her anymore. It’s shown by how I left the tag on her car the last time we had sex so I could make sure she’s safe. That’s what a lover is supposed to do. . . Protect.

 How can her husband do that shit if he’s gullible enough to take a last minute contract I forged? I’ve done my research on Toji Zen’in. I know he’s a money hungry bastard that would take anything given to him, which works in my favor.

 When I go see Y/N, I want to do so without any interruptions.

 I’ve been patient and waited for this moment for weeks. Following her around. Getting her new number after she gave it to the cashier to redeem her awards while running her errands, which by the way is very dangerous. I mean, there has to be another way of looking up an account without giving out your phone number? What if a creep heard as well and got her number? Tch, I can’t let that happen. 

 Note to self, Y/N loves that makeup store a lot. She’s been there twice since I last saw her.

 I’ll be sure to get her a gift from there.

 Anyways.

 Once Y/N and I talk things out, I can show her how much I care about her. How much I miss her. Showering her with affection and maybe cock if she wants it. I’ll never deny my pretty girl cock, especially when she looks so gorgeous while taking it.

 Speaking of, I miss that pussy so much. She was always so fucking messy and I loved that shit, knowing how wet and creamy I make her. 

 Two times wasn’t enough. Nearly wasn’t enough time for me to deeply study her body, explore it so I could figure out different ways to make her cum. See, this is the reason why I need get rid of that Zen’in fuck. Because when there’s other people standing  in the way of what you’re trying to build with the person you love, they make your vision blurry.

 That’s exactly what Toji Zen’in is. A blur.

 And he needs to fucking go.

 Permanently. 

 Maybe tonight would be the perfect time for me to go talk to Y/N. I coincidentally moved into an apartment building across from where she lives, so this makes things easier for us. It just further proves that fate is fighting to bring us together–for good. 

 After we talk and she realizes how much I love her, we could lay down together and watch a movie. Somehow, in the midst of the movie, I can fall between her legs and finally eat that sweet pussy I’ve be thinking about since I first fucked her. Or if she just wants to cuddle, we can do that, too.

 Whatever my angel wants.

 My main goal is to have Y/N understand how I feel about her. She said no romantic gestures, but I want the world to know how much she means to me. Maybe just a small and intimate date if anything.

 No, Suguru. That’ll make her mad.

 I know, I know. 

 Shit.

 I need to let out this frustration, and although I can’t make sweet love to Y/N right now, I suppose fisting my cock for the fifth time today wouldn’t be so bad.

 I think of how gorgeous and thick she is. It’s like every time I see Y/N, she gets more beautiful. I think of the leggings she wore a few days ago on her daily walk to the park that imprinted her ass, showing the natural waves she has every step she takes. And how her pussy looked so fucking fat, cuffing and sucking in the material of the tights, practically begging for me to fuck her.

 “Let me see if she’s in her bedroom,” I mutter to myself. 

 I still have the photos she sent me a few weeks ago, along with the ones I took while stalk–watching her, but physically seeing her is more preferred. Lucky enough, I was able to secure a corner apartment and the distance is far enough for her to not notice me, but close enough for me to see everything. 

 “Fuck.” I began palming my cock. 

 Y/N looks like she’s reading a book (I know how much she loves reading because she always goes to the bookstore) while wearing an oversized shirt and nothing underneath. Why does she wish to fuck tease me like this? Exposing her bottom cheeks so I can have the perfect view of her ass. 

 My cock is out less than a second later and it’s crimson, and as expected, already leaking precum. I spread it across my head and length to act as lubrication. 

 I know that I’m a bit perverted when it comes to Y/N. I know. But I can’t help myself when it comes to her. She’s so perfect. So beautiful and sexy. So mine. 

 So fucking mine. 

 Playing with my cock shouldn’t be an issue, no?

 I can take it, Suguru. I can take it.

 Fuck yes, princess. You can. You know how well you take my cock in that tight pussy. Just thinking about being deep inside of Y/N makes me feel like a fucking satyromaniac. 

 I’m practically ripping the skin off myself with how hard I’m pumping my cock. My head is thrown back in pure bliss, bottom lip tucked between my teeth to contain my moans. Oh, fuck, she’s being over right now to pick up something off the floor. That pussy is dying for my touch, I know it is. 

 “Y/N,” I whimper.

 Just a little bit more, I thought. The arousal that’s burning through my cock is soon shooting through my tip. If only if she coul–

 Who… the fuck … is calling me?

 I curse myself. I’m angry that my phone notifications have been going off while I’m trying to please myself. I can ignore it. I can, but I’m technically expecting a call from–

 “Suguru, it took you long enough,” my best friend, Satoru says, on the other side of the phone.

 “I’m busy, Satoru. I hope you called with information that I want,” I bit out.

 He chuckles, baiting me. “Still not over getting your assbeat by your girlfriend’s husband? Poor Suguru. I can come there and make you feel better. Maybe change your band-aids?”  

 Sometimes I ask myself why I tolerate him.

 “You called to fucking mock me or what?”

 “Hm, maybe,” he admits. “Also to tell you that he took the contract. You fucking owe me for bringing me into your mess, dude.”

 Just as I expected.

 “Thanks. Gotta go-”

  “Suguru, wait,” he says abruptly. “Are you sure you want to get deeper into this shit with Y/N? Her husband is a fucking professional killer. Is she really worth your life?”

 What kind of stupid question is that? Of course, she is. I love Y/N. Why can’t anyone fucking see that? That we belong together? The instant connection, our sexual attraction, how I look at her. She’s mine. If anyone gets in the way of our relationship, there’s no reason for them to live. 

 “I’ll be sure to book a session with my therapist if I need advice. Bye, Satoru.” 

 The nerve of him trying to lecture me about pursuing Y/N when he had his fair share of dealing with married women.

 Watch, I’ll show him. I’ll show Y/N. Hell, I’ll even show her jackass of a husband how she’s meant to be mine. . . Not his.

 Maybe there will be mishaps along the way, but love isn’t an easy thing. Fighting for who you love is inevitable.

 And good thing I have a lot of fight in me.

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[awmancreeper]

♡Lonely Boy Will Stay Lonely?. 17 - Y/n’s Youngluv era>>>

--❣︎ StayC’s Y/n is notorious for being K-pop’s social butterfly and making friends comes rather easy for her. When she’s asked to be an MC for Inkigayo, one of her co-hosts doesn’t seem too pleased to be working with her. This unknown feeling sparks a drive to become the bestest of friends with him but from the looks of it, he’ll fight her the whole way there.

Masterlist / prev / next 

!!written parts!!

 You put your phone down finishing up your business on Twitter. Sitting on the couch as your mc partners got their clothes/makeup touched up, you looked down at your hands nervously fiddling with the black arms warmers you had on.

“All done!” One of the makeup artists said allowing Kai to stand from the chair. He looked over at Jisung who was chatting with one of his members that came along today so he decided to not join that conversation. That left you

The aura in the room was quiet everyone doing their job in silence. Your leg bounced up and down, you were nervous and discouraged. After the MC special stage, you felt like you had fumbled it not being able to hold Kai’s shoulder in the bridge even though you were center. instead, your hand hovered awkwardly over his back nowhere near his shoulder where your other arm sat perfectly over Jisung’s shoulders. Easy to say you were disappointed with yourself and now you had to get ready for the MC introduction.

Kai secretly looked over at you. You hadn’t spoken since the incident of last night, both of you only talking to Jisung but not each other. This awkwardness resulted in the three of you not doing a practice run before the actual stage, even though y’all did well it wasn’t as fun and natural as when at rehearsals.

Although he’s only known you for two weeks, he does know you take pride in your dancing and tend to be self-critical. Also, you looked like a sad puppy messing with your arm warmer.

He sighed and walked over to you sitting on the same couch (just on the other side). This made you stiffen up, still feeling embarrassed for what had happened. This was odd, you always seem to find a way to start a conversation, especially with Kai but there you were lips sealed.

Kai lowkey felt bad, I mean he’s never gone raving about his celebrity crush to his friends but he does know what it’s like to feel embarrassed plus you messed up on stage. He just felt like he needed to reassure you.

“You did really well” his voice startled you but eventually you relaxed. You sighed taking your face into your hands “Don’t lie to me” a muffled voice came from your hands.

You peeked through your fingers to see Kai giving you a soft smile. You sat up a bit tucking a long piece of fringe behind your ear “Thanks but I know I could’ve done better” You returned a smile but it came out rather lopsided. “There’s always next time” he said with a chuckle and you followed but it quickly died down.

“Hey Kai, I’m sorry about the whole Soobin thing. It probably made you uncomfortable-“ but Huening Kai waved you off “No it’s completely fine,” he said nonchalantly “Really?”

He nodded “I guess I kinda overreacted calling you creepy and stuff” You raised a brow “You called me creepy?” But he just ignored you and continued on “But it’s pretty cool to know that you’re an actual fan of us… well I hope all of us” You giggled

The whole green room looked over at you and Kai seeing you giggle. It was the the aura of the room completely switched up being more livelier, the staffs were talking and joking around, Ji and his member Chenle spoke a bit louder and somehow the music that was playing in the background sounded more prominent. Even Kai could’ve sworn he saw the flowers bloom outside.

He smiled finally understanding the power of your smile or laugh

He wanted more of it

“I promise it’s all of you” you joked covering your smile with your hand “well not in a crazy way I swear, and I won’t fan girl in front of you”

He nodded “you don’t have to, I’m fine it”

“Plus what kinda a friend would I be if you couldn’t be yourself around me”

You felt your cheeks heat up “you’re my friend?” You questioned while he looked over at you like you were dumb “well yeah I thought you-“

You stood up “YAY!!” Throwing yourself over kai engulfing him in a hug. Everyone look over shocked as you were practicing were on top of Kai. Even Hyuka was shook this being the first time you actually hugged him.

His hands froze under you “o-okay that’s enough” he tried to speak out but his red face caught a glimpse of Jisung over your shoulder “y’all cuddling without me?” The next thing you both knew a new weight was added on top.

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