#by the way have you watched this show yet? have you?

[celestie0]

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

in holy matriphony ch7. if u wanna get groceries

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

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

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

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

ᰔ chapter. 7/x

ᰔ words. 10.3k

a/n. hiii my ihm darlings!! i don't have much to say in this beginning author's note haha but i have some author's notes at the end if you want to read them. but anywho hope you enjoy this chapterrr :)

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Ovulation is a very scary thing.

You can imagine many great women have had their lives greatly affected by this phenomenon. 

This biological release of an egg into the fallopian tubes, simply desiring to be fertilized.

Women who have had their hearts set on their dreams, aspirations, full speed ahead towards the finish line on the other end,

Only to be dragged back by–

You shudder to even mention.

Attraction to a man. 

So horrible.

So insane.

So humiliating.

And yet so–...

So natural.

Unfortunately.

You’re pretty sure Sabrina Carpenter has a song about it.

This is what you think of as you lean over the kitchen island, perched up on your elbows as you eat a peach, staring straight ahead at a certain fake husband who is seated on the couch. 

He’s looking at the TV, watching some SNL skit he didn’t get to finish last weekend, tilting his head side to side with his grey sweatpant clad legs stretched out onto the coffee table in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He’s got a can of Celsius he’s swirling around with a loose grip, his elbow up on the cushion for a more lax resting state (which unfortunately also flexes his bicep very sexily from the positioning), and he doesn’t really seem particularly amused by what he was watching. And for some reason, it was hot.

You tilt your head to the right, watching him like a predator from across the hall, chewing down on a particularly juicy piece of peach that bursts its juice in your mouth, and you curse the fact that all you can think about right now is sex.

Sex.

When was the last time you had sex?

You postulated a little over a month ago when you and Choso were still together.

Granted, you’ve been too busy and overwhelmed and overstimulated with all the recent happenings of late to provide your own self with any sort of relief.

And God, it was showing.

Showing in the way that, no matter what, you can’t seem to shake the idea of wanting to sit in Gojo’s lap and be the second reason he never gets to finish watching that SNL skit. 

Maybe it will help.

Maybe sitting in a man’s lap right now would heal you.

You set the now naked seed of peach down on the counter before straightening yourself up and walking around the kitchen island towards the living room. Gojo’s eyes don’t flicker to you until you’re well in his periphery, and when he looks up at you, he straightens himself up on the couch with curious wide eyes and drags his feet off the coffee table to plant his feet on the rug.

You pull your grandma nightgown up to your knees so that you can sit in his lap, surprise evident on his face as he watches your every movement before you’re comfortably seated on him with your hands on his shoulders.

“Fuck me,” you tell him.

“Wh–” he stutters, “I’m sorry, I could’ve sworn you just told me to fuck you.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” The heels of your hands press into his chest further to the point where it has to hurt. 

“Is this a prank,” he asks as his hands fall to hold your hips on reflex.

You sigh, shifting around on his thighs. “Can you just do it already before I change my mind?”

“Wow. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright. I’ve changed my mind.”

You push off of his shoulders and stand up on one leg, ready to get up and away from him to find some other way to satisfy your desperate desire for a penis, but he reaches out to grab your wrist.

“Heyyy wait wait wait,” he says, pulling you back into a seat on his lap. “Why do you want to have sex all of a sudden?”

You exhale slowly, twiddling with your thumbs as you look at him. “You said it yourself the other day,” you say, “good way to relieve stress.”

“And you’re not gonna kill me afterwards?”

“Umm no promises?”

“Look, as much as I’d like to take you up on the offer, a part of me thinks you’re making a…rash decision here.”

“Oh my fucking god who cares if I am?? Maybe I just wanna fuck for the sake of fucking?? What’s the big fucking deal??”

“The big deal is that, knowing you, you’re not going to speak to me or look me in the eye for three weeks if I let you go through with something you’re not a hundred percent on.”

Your shoulders sulk a little. You thought this would be an easy yes, where he tears your nightgown off and then ravishes you whole on this couch with every primal caveman instinct that’s encoded in his XY chromosome DNA. This was supposed to be spontaneous and sexy…not a candid conversation.

The thought flashes through your head that maybe he thinks that you’re just trying to use him.

“I want to have sex with you,” you clarify. And then a pause. “I think.” You pause for a moment again. “I’m, like, pretty sure.”

He slides you back to where you’re sitting closer to his knees than to his groin, and then fully leans back onto the couch before tucking his hands behind his head like he was physically putting himself in cuffs to prevent himself from touching you any further. “Tell you what. Let’s circle back in an hour, and if you still want to, then sure.”

“I cannot believe how diplomatic you’re being about this.”

“Well isn’t this whole thing between us a diplomatic agreement? That’s what you said to me when we got fake engaged.”

“That–” you blink at him, not expecting those words to eventually be used against you, “...whatever.”

“Also, what happened to the no sex rule?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grins and leans forward, both of his elbows settling onto the top of the cushion behind him, and you’re proud of yourself for only staring at his biceps for 0.000034 seconds before meeting his line of sight again. 

“Are those rules just suggestions?” he asks with a stupidly teasing look on his face. 

You purse your lips together, skin feeling warm suddenly as you try to push him away by a palm to his sternum. But then you realized something. A fundamental rule of biology. The woman never chases. 

You smile at him, cheeky in a deceptive way that’s meant to scare him, and it does seem to alarm him when you push him back onto the couch rather forcefully. His hands fall to hold your hips again as he looks at you with round eyes, and you scoot forward on his lap, to where you’re almost sitting right above his groin. 

“Hey–” he says, like a warning. 

Like some awful romantic comedy, you’re drawing the tip of your nail down the front of his chest seductively, leaning forward so he catches the faint scent of the perfume you spritzed onto your skin in the morning, and you can tell it’s working from the way he tips his chin up in interest. You innocently “shift” in his lap to get comfortable, and see his throat bob when he swallows hard from the feeling. The finger that’s been running down the soft linen of his shirt trails up until it runs through the hair at the back of his neck, and he’s pulling you closer to him now by a rough grip on your hips. His breathing picks up, eyes somehow wild yet calm as he looks at you with a set jaw, and you try your best to maintain a sultry expression as you tilt your head down at him while strongly fisting at the longer strands of his hair that fall short at the nape of his neck. He shifts underneath you, sinking further into the couch, his breathing fast enough to where you can see the rise and fall of his chest, his gaze finally dropping to your lips as he parts his own, and he briefly runs his tongue over his bottom lip before–

Before the doorbell rings. 

You both blink at each other.

You don’t even realize how close you two were to making out until you realize you can’t even see the tip of his nose anymore. 

“My, uh,” he starts, voice sounding gruff so he has to clear his throat, “my wood just came.”

“Y–” you glance down at his lap, “your wood just what?!”

He leans away from you, sinking his back into the cushion and pointing over his shoulder with a thumb towards the door. “The cedar planks I ordered to finish my woodworking project. Pretty sure they just got dropped off.”

You blink at him, releasing the grip you still had on the hair at the back of his head, your arms moving to weakly rest on his shoulders instead. “Oh.”

“I’ve gotta go sign the delivery.

“Okay.”

“Sometime today, preferably.”

“Alright.”

“Can…can I head to the door? Is that allowed?”

“...I suppose.”

His fingers that were still resting under your butt in a strong grip push up gently on the flesh to prod you off of him, and you (reluctantly) swing your legs off of his lap then slump down onto the couch indignantly beside him, twiddling with your thumbs as you watch him get up off the cushions with a small grunt from the push of his palms on his knees. And then he heads to the door.

Continuing to assess your cuticles with the tuck of your chin towards your collarbone, you hear Gojo talk to whoever was at the door. Another masculine voice. Sounds younger, probably younger than you. Delivery boy. Gojo makes easy conversation with him, some buddy-buddy diction that’s entirely lost on you, and you hear the other man laugh. And the fact that you feel equally as possessed to want to fuck the delivery man makes you realize you need to put yourself in a cage the next time you feel like this.

You hear the door close along with the metallic click of the lock, and you peak your head up over the top of the couch to look at Gojo, who is leaning a giant cardboard box that looks really heavy against the wall. He then exhales, dusting his hands off and he’s stretching his neck from side to side again.

He glances over his shoulder to find you still looking at him.

“You woodwork?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Is that the noisy thing you do at six in the morning while I’m trying to sleep after a night shift?!?!”

“It’s not that noisy,” he says, leaning back onto the wall and crossing his arms. Then he grins. “Want to see what I’m working on?”

“No.”

“Oh come on.” He jerks his head towards the kitchen leading out to the screen door of the backyard. And then he’s shuffling his feet off into that direction. “Humor me for once.”

You slide off the couch onto the floor, grumbling something to yourself before you stand up onto your feet and shuffle your feet across the hardwood floor to follow him, the hem of your nightgown sliding across the surface.

Gojo pulls the screen door back and you step out into the pleasant afternoon. It’s sunny, with crisp air that settles on your senses, the casted shadows of clouds that slowly pass over the grass reminding you of your childhood, or perhaps of simpler times.

You step into the flip flops you see near the shoe mat, and they are nearly twice the size of your feet. Gojo opts for the dustier pair located behind the grill and then he walks across the grass of his backyard towards the shed tucked away near the side of the house. You’ve always been able to briefly see this shed from one of the windows in your house, but you could never see what went on inside. 

He unclasps the metal lock on the wooden door of the shed and pulls it open with a creak. You peer inside, the smell of wood shavings and some other rather comforting chemicals hitting you almost instantly. You also sneeze. And then sneeze again.

“Bless you,” he says, and when you glance at him, he’s smiling at you before he takes a step inside. You cross your arms and rub your elbows, feeling feeble in your ditsy nightgown as you step into a space that looks far too industrial for you. 

“See?” Gojo says once you’re fully inside the shed with him, drawing your gaze from the dusty ceilings towards the covered structure in the center of the workspace. He pulls the blue tarp back, revealing something square-looking. “It’s a coffee table.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you tilt your head to assess it. “Oh. It’s–...it’s actually quite nice.”

“Yeah.” He knocks on the surface with his knuckles. “It’s pretty sturdy. I’ve been looking to replace what I’ve got in the house for a while now. And–” he straightens himself up again, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “That wood I just got delivered is black walnut. Stunning stuff. I’m going to use it to finish the corners and the cabinets.”

“Ahhh,” you say, expressing interest. I mean, you were intrigued by his many strange hobbies. How can you explain this…you suppose after many years of working, sleeping, eating, and taking care of your mom, it's somewhat pleasantly disorienting to find yourself in the middle of a normal person’s life. Someone who has time to woodwork in his free time. Endearing. It was kind of endearing. 

“I’ve gotta flip it over though,” he says with a sigh, “I fucked up and forgot to build the base first.”

You lean back on one of the cabinets behind you that was level with your hip, and you watch Gojo for a moment as he bends down to assess all angles of the table before he grips the underside of it with his hands, the strength of his grip evident in the strain of the veins running up his arms and disappearing into the short sleeve cotton of his shirt. 

But he glances up at you before moving it. “Can you stand over there?”

“Huh?” You blink at him.

“Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize you were standing in quite literally the exact zone of potential danger. You make a mental note to work on your survival instincts. 

You lean off of the cabinet and step off to the side. 

You watch as he begins to lift up on the table, his biceps flexing with the movement, oh and that grunt that leaves his lips once he’s got it at the angle he wants hits you somewhere you wish it didn’t. The sight of him leaning over, letting out a slow exhale as he slowly sets the table down on its side over the cushioning mat had you in a trance. 

Once he’s satisfied with wherever it’s at, he steps away from it and dusts his hands off. “Alright.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Got an hour to work on this.”

You nod at him.

He glances over at you. 

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

“Did–...did you wanna watch?”

“Nope,” you say, shuffling your slippers to the other side of the door. Because you fear that catching the sight of him all sweaty and disheveled from woodworking would get you into serious trouble today. At least you know when to call it quits.

In the hour that Gojo spends doing god knows what sort of manly sorcery in that shed, you get dressed into something that wasn’t a cozy nightgown much to your dismay, and head over to your house next door. You figure you could use this time to clean up the place a little so that you can take pictures for the house on Zillow. 

When you step inside the house, the nauseating smell of medication hits you. It’s a smell that you can only know if you’ve lived with it for years. Something artificial, something that smells–...well, sick. It’s a scent you associate with sickness. It hits you randomly sometimes with the patients that you treat at the hospital. Patients that smell just like your mom does. Something akin to a pill closet. You’ve always cursed the human tendency to assort semantics to certain senses, because then it only takes away all the healing you thought you had gotten through.

You walk down the hall towards your mother’s bedroom. You figured you’d start here first, since it would be the most difficult to clean for you. Her bed is set up neatly, exactly as you left it before she left for hospice three weeks ago. 

Her well-worn rocking chair sits near the window with the old knit blanket she made over twenty years ago draped over it. It faces the window instead of the inside of the house, which was a habit she always had throughout her life. Maybe as an art teacher, she always felt that whatever was outside was more intriguing than within. 

You run a hand by the sturdy wooden dresser covered in dust and scattered medications, along with all of your mother’s draped headscarves. She liked to change them every day, the pattern of each of them aggressively absurd and somewhat hypnotizing, but it fits for her age–that sort of clothing. Your mother used to have beautiful hair. It was something all her friends had always been jealous of. She made the decision to shave it all off rather than watch as it slowly detangled from her hair from chemo, and she claims to have stashed it away somewhere, but you know that she likely donated it instead.

When you make it to her desk, you see paint splattered over it with a rusted easel holding up a blank canvas. But there were swipes of paint across the palette, as though she were trying to find the perfect blend of colors, but failed before she could put brush to canvas. Beside her little art setup, you see a little sticky note with scribblings on it.

Morning tea

Medications- Gabapentin 600 300

Today is Thursday. Oct 16th

800 432 5555 call Dr Johnson 

Turn off the stove

At the very bottom:

- daughter. Nurse. She loves you

You suck a deep breath in, releasing it slowly.

This was an impossible task.

To stuff all of this away into boxes. 

All of this life.

You slowly peel the sticky note off the desk, folding it neatly before placing it into your pocket. Then you start with the canvas, the easel, the paint. Exactly as is, without cleaning anything at all, you stache them away into boxes. You wanted to preserve what you could, even if it was all for show.

By the time you finish cleaning out her desk, you feel winded from emotions. You decide to take a break and try to clean whatever was upstairs instead. Before you leave the room, you see another sticky note written behind the door.

remember ! wear your sweater, it’s cold today

And that’s when you start crying. 

.

.

.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

”Hey,” you say as you walk back into Gojo’s house in the early afternoon, holding up a digital camera that you found in the attic in your hand. “The upstairs of my house is cleaned out now, and I’m almost done with the downstairs part…just waiting on finishing one room. Can we start taking photos to put the listing up online?”

Gojo glances up at you from where he’s stood in the kitchen, tugging at his sleeves, and you just now notice he’s dressed up in a dark navy suit with a white shirt underneath. No tie. “Uhh yeah I can help you with it, I’ve just gotta go run a few errands and then we can do it when I get back?” He ruffles his hair a bit and you see that it’s slightly damp like he just took a shower.

“What errands?”

“Gas, amazon return, Costco. Maybe get a donut if I’m feeling like being a bad boy.”

“Ew. Also, why don’t you get gas at Costco?”

“It’s a little cheaper at Sam’s Club.”

You gasp. “You have a Sam’s Club membership??”

“Yes.”

“You’re a traitor.”

He rolls his eyes as he pushes his shoulders back to get better settled into his suit jacket. “I have a Costco membership too.” 

“Can I come?”

“What? For–...for the errands?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at you from the other side of the island, brow furrowing slightly. “Uh. Sure?”

You know it sounds silly to say, but not having to take care of someone twenty-four-seven has left you with little to no sense of purpose, and an even more intense feeling of loneliness. And as much as Gojo gets on your nerves from time to time, you’ve noticed that you’ve been…craving his presence lately. Or maybe a presence might be more accurate than any one specific person, but you can comfortably admit it to yourself that you’re a somewhat codependent person that enjoys being largely implemented into someone’s life. You’ve even started borderline nesting in his home. You bought two new fluffy throw blankets for his couch, set up a bowl of fruits at the center of the kitchen island, and stocked up on laundry detergent, even though he already had two backup boxes. It was driving you crazy. This feeling of having too much free time and personal space than what you knew what to do with.

And it had been a while since you went to Costco. The holy land for all adults. 

“Can I get this? Ohhhh what about this? Can we get this too? Wait. Wait. Brown sugar boba mochi?!” You hold the packet up into the air as if it were baby Simba in the Lion King, and then you turn to Gojo, clutching the bag to your chest. “Please?”

He exhales, leaning over the handle of the shopping cart and levels his gaze with you. “...no.”

You sulk your shoulders and sigh as you put it back.

He begins to push the cart down the aisle again. “You do realize that you have disposable income too, right?”

You trail after him. “No. I don’t. I’m in six figures of debt.”

He nods. “Fair.” And then he grabs a stray bag of brown sugar boba abandoned on top of the instant rice boxes then places it into the cart. 

You watch as Gojo makes his rounds around Costco, very diligently aligning all the items in his shopping cart and assessing the quality of each thing he crosses off his list before deeming it worthy of purchase. Much different than your usual Costco run, which involves a lot of chaos and sweat. And he feels very husband material like this. Breaking no sweat to put the garden fertilizer in the cart shelf meanwhile you would’ve pulled your back out trying to do the same if you were on your own.

As you two make your way through the store, you get stopped by the post-office man, and then the local judge, and then the elderly couple that runs the church's weekly Bingo nights. All greeting you politely with a quick exchange of words and usually a sweet regard for your mother’s health before passing on by. You keep having to introduce Gojo as your husband, and many of them already know who he is, despite the fact that he’s only lived here for a year, which royally pisses you off to great extents, but he’s a social whore so it makes sense. And then all of them coo sweet things like wow, what a beautiful couple and you’re so lucky to have each other and my oh my he’s very handsome and at this point you would pay someone twenty bucks to say something like well she’s a looker! good for you! to Gojo because you’re sick of him always getting the ego boosts. When asked where you guys went for your honeymoon, you both say “Greece–” “Maldives–” at the same time in typical unrehearsed fashion. One of the town locals even asks when the two of you are going to have a baby, and you almost snort your free sample of San Pellegrino out your nose.

Perhaps the only thing that keeps a little pep in your step is the fact that everyone greets you first before they catch the familiar sight of Gojo too. It’s a small thing to celebrate, but when you’ve lived in the same town your whole life, it becomes somewhat of a prideful and wholesome thing when the town librarian, local mechanic, and farmer’s market lady all stop you in your lovely little Costco stroll. It was all in a day’s work.

“Jeez, you’re hella famous, y/n,” Gojo says as he continues to push the cart down the aisle after you just got done catching up with the volunteer Fire Chief.

You toss your hair over your shoulder at him. “Yes. I am somewhat of a princess in this town.”

“Does that make me your prince?”

“No. You’re my filthy peasant.”

“Alright…I like where this is going…”

“Get your nasty degradation kink away from me, you perv. This is Costco. It’s the holy house of God.”

Once you two make it to the wine section, you stare at bottles of dessert wines and hear Gojo talking on the phone off to the side.

“Hey, Sana. I’m at Costco right now. Do you guys need anything? I already got Juno’s muffins,” he says into his phone as he places two containers of blueberry muffins into the cart. You eye the raspberry cream cheese strudels. “Huh? Cornstarch?....If I tried to look for cornstarch at Costco, I’d be here for three hours.”

“Satoru,” you say to him once he gets off the call, tugging at his sleeve, “could we get those Haagen Daz ice cream bars? They’re so good.”

“No,” he says, pushing the cart down the chip aisle before he grabs a bag of tortilla chips. “We can’t get anything that needs to be frozen or refrigerated. I’ve gotta go prep a house that’s in the area since we’re out this far. I’ve got an evening showing.”

“What?!” you exasperate, “I thought we were just going home after this!”

“I never said that.”

“I can’t believe this. I had been dreaming of grabbing those ice cream bars since you mentioned the word Costco back at home. You could’ve brought your little cooler thing that you keep in the garage.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you wanted to come with me,” he says. “My original grocery list had seven non-perishable items on it.” You both glance at the cart, which was almost entirely full of things that you put in there. Things that nobody ever needs. Like a bladeless desk fan and an electric wine opener.

“Ah,” you say.

He smiles, leaning over the cart handle again and pushing it forward again away from the chilly air of the cooler section. “Retail therapy?”

You pout a little. “I haven’t had the chance in years.” You glance at the cart as he pushes it. “I should probably take it all out now.”

“It’s fine,” he says, “I’ll get you your bladeless fan. And whatever the fuck those other things are.”

You stop walking, blinking blankly at his back as he continues to wordlessly push the cart forward. There’s about a five second delay before you finally start trailing after him.

By the time Gojo finishes loading everything into the trunk of his car as you merely stand by for emotional support, and then he comes back from the long trek of returning the cart, you’re absolutely winded. You’re not sure why, because again, you haven’t really done much all day. But God damn, you forgot how exhausting it is to be a regular functioning member of society that contributes to the economy on the weekends (you didn’t pay for anything).

Gojo wordlessly takes off from the Costco parking lot and just when you think he’s going to get back onto the freeway to get to this house of his that he needs to prep, he jumps into the parking lot of a small shopping area before he parks his car in front of a smaller grocery store. 

You give him a puzzled look.

“Hold on,” he says before clicking his seatbelt off, “gotta go get that cornstarch.”

“Wait—” you say, reaching out to grab him by the sleeve of his suit jacket as the most intense sensation of FOMO you’ve ever felt in your life overtakes all of your senses. “I’ll come with.”

He quirks a brow at you. You’re not surprised at his confusion. After all, you’ve been acting like some drug addict in withdrawal of social proximity to him all day long. But you’re at least glad he doesn’t express any further bewilderment and allows you to follow him inside the store like a duckling.

As Gojo veers off in the direction of likely corn starchiness, in a confident manner that would suggest he’s been to this store many times before, you meander about the aisles at your leisure. You get lost in the bustling colors of produce stacked neatly on top of one another, such that they could rival the great pyramids of Egypt. Not to mention, processed foods lining the wall right next to it. This was what suburban life is all about. Matter of fact, this is what dreams are made of. 

“y/n?”

Oh, fuck. That voice is definitely not what dreams are made of.

The opposite, actually.

Nightmares.

You hear that voice in your nightmares.

You turn on your heel to find none other than your ex boyfriend, he who shall not be named (Choso Kamo), standing right behind you as he holds a grapefruit in his hand, blinking at you dumbly with surprise apparent on his face. 

“Wh—” you briefly stutter before the automatic scowl settles onto your face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m buying fruit.”

“For what?”

“What do you mean, for what? To eat, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I’m not convinced you wouldn’t try to fuck that grapefruit. Given you have low standards for what you stick your dick inside of.”

“Uh?…I’ve stuck my dick inside of you plenty of t—”

“Shut it!!!” you yell at him, then turn away with a wince on your face. “I didn’t think it through before I said it.”

“As usual?”

“You’re being a jerk. You know who I meant when I said that.”

“Okay. So, you don’t think things through before you say them. And I continue to deflect said things. Let me know when anything’s changed between us, y/n.”

You cross your arms at him menacingly and unwaveringly glare at him as a meek mother pushes her young son by the shoulders away from the two simmering adults having their savory conversation within the produce aisle. You’re about the snark out another comment but then the automatic water sprayers interrupt your flow. And also a scrawny employee drops a giant box of eggplant onto the ground before placing them onto the produce shelf.

“What are you doing on this side of town? You’re never out here,” Choso says as he sets the grapefruit back onto the stack.

“I don’t know. What are you doing here?”

“This is my new go-to grocery store.”

“Why not go to the Trader Joe’s that we always used to go to? It’s way closer to you.”

His shoulders sulk slightly at that.

Oh.

Oh.

So, he’s been driving an extra thirty minutes each weekend to go grocery shopping on the other end of town,

Just so he doesn’t have to run into you anymore.

“Look…y/n,” he starts, “it’s not that I don’t want to see you��”

“Choso—”

“It’s just that you accuse me of fucking inanimate objects everytime I do see you.”

“I literally do not care if you do or don’t want to see me.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his gaze flitting downwards to your crossed arms, something catching his eye.

You glance down at yourself, and you catch the glimmer of diamond underneath bright fluorescent light.

“Oh come on,” Choso grumbles, “don’t tell me you actually wear that thing twenty-four-seven.”

“I’m a married woman, Choso. It’s what married women do.”

He clenches his jaw at that, tense enough to cause a vein strain in his neck, his brows narrowing into contempt, but just before he can say anything else, an arm wraps around your waist and you’re being pulled back into a broad chest.

“She’s pretty, huh?” you hear Gojo say and you blink up at him with your chin tilted towards the ceiling, and you yelp as he possessively pulls you in closer to him as he establishes jarring eye contact with Choso with that same old easy grin on his face. “Thank god I’m the one married to her.”

Choso almost blows a fuse at that. “I know she’s pretty,” he says through gritted teeth, “for six years, I was the one that got to f—”

“Ahh!!! Sale on tomatoes!!!” you interrupt the crass and ridiculously toxic masculine energy in the air as you wiggle out of Gojo’s grip then run over to the pristinely stacked romano tomatoes, picking some of them up and holding them like precious commodities. “Maybe we can make some tomato soup with grilled cheese tonight, honey???” you say with a forced smile towards Gojo as you now hold fifteen tomatoes in your arms, a couple of them falling to the floor with a bounce as they roll away.

“HEY!! LADY!!” the scrawny eggplant stacking employee from earlier yells out at you. Some late teens kid with acne speckled across his face and shaggy brown hair scattered over his forehead, somewhat slick with either gel or grease. “I just set those up!!! YOU SQUASH ‘EM, YOU BUY ‘EM.”

“Sorry,” you squeak out, putting the tomatoes back onto the display somewhat haphazardly before grabbing Gojo’s arm and tugging him towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here, please.”

“Huh? I’ve still gotta pay for the cornstarch though,” Gojo says, hardly budging despite your best efforts to womanhandle him.

“No time for that, we leave now. They don’t have cameras here, anyway. I already checked.” You continue to tug on his arm, your body leaning at an almost forty-five degree angle towards the exit as you struggle to get some drag to his feet, but again, he doesn’t budge.

You don’t know exactly why you so adamantly want to restrict Gojo from interacting with Choso, but maybe a part of it was embarrassment. You didn’t want Gojo to find out what Choso did to you and what an absolute fool he had made out of you. It would hurt your pride.

“Isn’t this guy a cop?” Gojo asks as he points his thumb towards Choso. “And you’re telling me to shoplift in front of him?”

“Can you just be on my fucking side for one second?” you grit at him, yanking on his sleeve so hard you almost tear the cuffs out of the holes, and he finally sighs before relenting into a gait towards your general direction.

As you hug Gojo’s arm tightly to keep his momentum towards you, you walk backwards and send Choso a nasty glare. His eyes are wide, studying you and Gojo together as you get further and further away from him. And for a brief, brief, brief, ever-so-slight fleeting moment of love and familiarity and the sight of his dark hair curling at the nape of his neck and the memory of warmth when he used to hold you in his arms in bed on cold winter mornings, you find that you miss him a little. But only a little. You swear that it’s only a little.

Gojo still makes a pit stop at the register much to your pleading dismay, but as always he has zero regard or interest for your melodramatic outbursts, but at least he shoves the extra change from the purchase into his pocket in a somewhat timely fashion so that you two can head out the door in your artificial haste.

In the car, you quickly click your seatbelt on and then have to watch Gojo as he takes his time clicking his back into place and enter some address into his car. You see the ETA on the GPS, and how it shows that this address is roughly thirty-four minutes away.

Once he gets onto the freeway, your mind begins to wander back to seeing Choso at the grocery store and how the sight of him rattled you. You twiddle with your thumbs in your lap nervously, shift around in your seat, chew at the edge of your nail, and Gojo seems to notice this.

“You know, having lived in this town your whole life, I would think you’d be used to the discomfort of running into people you don’t want to see,” he says.

You sigh. “Yes. In theory. But with Choso, it’s–…it’s different.” You hesitate.  “It’s just that—” you try again before worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, “it’s just that, sometimes I don’t get him.”

Gojo is silent for a few seconds as he stares straight towards the road before he responds with, “What do you mean?”

“Like, he avoids me like the plague, and then begs me to go back to him, and then he pretends like I’m just a nuisance to him, and then when he sees me with you, he acts all—…I don’t know…all—”

“Jealous?”

You sink into your seat. “Something like that.”

“Hm. Yeah, to be honest, I don’t know. But you’re not wrong to find it strange.”

Feeling strangely validated in your feelings, you sit there twiddling with your thumbs and then glance out the window. There’s a silence that lasts maybe ten seconds before you say,

“Thanks for interrupting back there. Although, you don’t have to try to deliberately make him jealous anymore. Even though I know I literally asked you to do that. Which makes me a woman of severe psychiatric ailment. Of which I am slightly embarrassed about at the moment.”

“Nah,” he says as he turns the right onto the freeway entrance. When you look over at him, he has a smile on his face. “I like it. It’s never boring with you.”

Unsure if that’s a compliment or some shade of insult, you say, “and that’s a good thing?”

He shrugs, releasing one hand from the wheel and curling the other in a tight knuckled grip at the top of it as the car drives steady down the freeway. He rests his right elbow on the storage console. “Well, it’s different from what I’m used to.”

What are you used to? You so badly want to ask him.

But a flashback to his childhood bedroom at his parent’s house comes back to you.

Yearbook signatures, trophies, and photos abandoned underneath a bed.

You almost don’t even want to acknowledge that he has lived a life before you.

Was that self centered? Or perhaps childish? Or perhaps all in human nature?

You decide not to respond, instead directing your attention to the world outside the car window. The blades of grass dance across the shoulder of the road, all greenery following suit in the same swift motion. You watch as the land slowly turns from developed to more and more remote, yet still cozy and charming. Fields of green, vineyard arrangements, a wooden sign for a winery, a picturesque red barn house, a small cattle farm, an old town church with a bronze bell, hills of empty acres that are just begging to be touched by some great idea or civilization.

You’re privy to change in texture underneath the wheels as Gojo makes a turn onto gravel road about two miles after getting off the freeway. He drives up a hill, maybe a forty-five degree angle, with the crunch of rocks rubbing against the tread of the tires and you see a more distinct, purposeful arrangement of short decorative trees that line the properties of this narrow gravel road. They were large houses, sitting on slightly slanted hills that were all a part of a bumpy landscape that extends for miles. Some had formal fences, some had chain links, but all had expansive yards with no clear distinction of boundary, where the backyard could be the front yard too if only you had the imagination for it.

One house in particular catches your eye. It’s a pretty two story house with a detached garage or perhaps shed, painted in a dusky auburn with dark wooden paneling and structure. It sat near the top of this hill, the front yard being a steep upwards slope of grassy terrain that stretched for the full length of the property, about a hundred yards. The backyard dips behind the back of the hill, downwards into some territory you cannot set eyes on. But it’s stunning. It was gorgeous. Serene. With views of lush green surrounding its every corner. Intimately located, yet open enough to fresh air in which you almost feel one with the world. And in the early evening light, it looked like heaven.

You let out a slow exhale as you take in the sight that looks like a painting to you. There was something so romantic about a home. For as long as time, humans have enjoyed personifying objects, such as boats or planes or cars or  trains. But what could feel more of a living thing than a home?

You hear Gojo click his seatbelt off beside you and you glance over at him. You click off your own seat belt and open your door, stepping out onto the gravel road.

Gojo comes around the car and approaches you, holding a folder in his hand with papers you can only assume have information on the property listing. You also hear the jingle of keys in his pocket as he pushes his hand into it. 

“Got about,” he glances at his watch, “twenty minutes to prep. Oh, and if my clients ask, I’ll just introduce you as my assistant. And we’ll pretend that we have some sort of inappropriate workplace relationship. Just to intrigue them. It’ll make the house more memorable. Sound like a plan?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever gets food on your table.”

You watch as he pushes a copper key into the rusted lock that was clipped onto the chains holding the fence together, guarding the property. He yanks it down once he’s unlocked it and then pulls the fence apart, opening the way to head up the house. It borders on a feeling of trespassing, but you trail closely behind Gojo as he makes his way up the grassy hill, reminding yourself that he has the clearance as a realtor.

You glance around the property a bit more. There’s a small pond in the dip of one of the smaller hills, fuzzy with moss and some small fish you can see snapping at the surface of the water. Off to the right of it, there are similarly moss covered stone benches, small and antique. Perfect to sit there and watch the sun set behind the house. And towards the left, a small gondola with arranged stained glass stepping stones. 

“Charming, huh?” Gojo says over his shoulder at you, and you realize he’s caught you staring at everything in awe.

Gojo makes it to the veranda after lengthy strides across the broad concrete steps that lead to the most stunning hardwood door you’ve ever seen in your life. He turns around to glance at you when he realizes you’re still stuck at the bottom of the steps, digging your heels into the ground underneath you.

“It’s–” you start, looking across the landscape while melancholy washes over you, “...I just can’t believe that someone gets to live here someday.”

He pushes his hands inside of his pant pockets, silent for a few moments. “Is everything alright?”

You look up at him, the question threatening to make the rawness in your throat burn even more. “Yes, I just–” you scoff at yourself a little before turning back to face the little pond, now further in the distance, “I just realized that I’ll probably never be able to afford a house in my life, so I’ll never really know what it’s like to have a realtor show me around a home I could potentially one day call my own. It’s something that sounds so surreal to me.”

There’s a silence that lasts for three seconds, and when you look up at him, his gaze is soft.

“Alright,” he says, jerking his head towards the direction of the door with his hands still lax in his pockets, “let’s take you on a tour of this one, then.”

You blink up at him, heart beating a little faster. “O-...Okay.” And you hop up the stairs to meet him at the top. The fragrance of wild roses and lavender brush past your senses as the leaves sway with the breeze. 

The moment you enter inside, you’re greeted by a faint trace of vanilla lingering in the air. The foyer is warm, inviting, with soft oak floors that creak ever so slightly with each step you two take forward into it, proving the life that it’s lived. To your left, there’s a spacious living room that glows with the golden light of the early evening sun that has started to gently make its descent from high up in the sky. Filtering through sheer curtains, touching your skin from afar, you glance down at your arm and the glow of heaven that’s been imprinted on it. 

Gojo walks further into the living room, pulling the curtains back a bit and then opens one of the windows by pushing up on it. A small draft reaches you as you walk towards him. Off to the right in a corner is a fireplace, the mantle adorned with wilting candles and creased old books.

“Is it wood-burning?” you ask Gojo.

He nods his head. “Can easily convert it to gas if that’s something you’d like better.”

There’s a sense of joy in your chest at the way he continues to play along, pretending as if your opinion truly matters–as if, just for now, you were a serious contender to make this place your home. 

“No,” you say, tracing a finger over the dark wood of the mantle, collecting withered dust. “I like it better like this.”

As he leads you into the kitchen, set your eyes on the marble countertops that meet soft sage cabinetry, the window behind the sink overlooking the rolling landscape of the backyard. You stand on your tiptoes to get a better view of what’s down the hill, and you see a small trickling creek that flows down the valley. Your gaze diverts towards the countertops and you see an elegant collection of mismatched china.

Spinning on your heel, you find Gojo leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you inspect every inch. “When were these appliances last updated?” you ask, running your hand across the oven handle.

“About fourteen years ago.”

“Ah, they’re a little old.”

He smiles at you. “So the tolerance for vintage charm ends with kitchen appliances?”

“Charm is cute,” you say, a little cheekily as you move on without him towards the staircase, “but not when the house burns down because of an oven gas leak.”

He hums from behind you as he follows you, and you can hear the smile on his face through the sound alone. “You’re looking out for the right things.”

The staircase, with its dark wood railing and white balusters, curves gently upwards into the second floor. Just like your own home, the third and first steps creak beneath your feet. You always loved the sound, although you know most people attempt to fix such things in a house. For you, it felt like each step had a story, and some were very vocal about never being forgotten. 

The upstairs hallway is lined with more windows, filling the space with the same golden glow that now dances across the soft, tapering wallpaper that has begun to peel around the edges slightly. Your feet wander on their own with a sense of grace that seems to have taken hold of you. 

The first bedroom you stumble across is small, but still enchanting. The bay window has a small reading nook with cushions piled up on the surface, inviting the image of lazy afternoons spent lost in books as the world beyond the glass panes flutters in the wind. The queen-sized bed in the center of the room is minimally dressed and faces an oak dresser that was leaning slightly away from the wall in a crooked fashion. 

The room across from the first bedroom appears to be a study. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are bolted to the walls and a vintage writing desk sits by another window where the changing light of day turns the room into a living painting. Your mother crosses your mind. And how much she would’ve loved this window. You could picture her setting up her easel and canvas here, painting away with strokes that could threaten even the beauty of the view outside the window. You think about how much joy that would’ve brought to her. 

In that same trance, you walk down the hall to the end with Gojo following behind you. You push through the set of double doors that lead into the master bedroom. It was spacious, yet intimate, with vaulted ceilings and a four-poster bed draped in airy linen curtains. Sitting across from it is another fireplace surrounded by two picturesque little chairs. One with a square backrest colored a dark burgundy, and the other with an oval backrest colored a pinkish opal. Between the two was a small table that had a stack of a few books. 

The attached en-suite bathroom appears timeless, with a clawfoot tub resting beneath a wide, arched window that offers the view of the rolling hills in their entire glory. The marble vanity has vintage brass fixtures that reflect the soft glow of the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, one that takes the shape of the roof of the house. 

You hear tapping on the window to your right, and when you glance over there, you see a tree branch bothering the surface due to the wind. 

Your eyes also catch the faint bordering corner of wood beyond the frame of the window.

With wide eyes, you turn to Gojo and point in that general direction. “Is that…?”

“The balcony,” he says, then nods, “it’s connected to this room.”

He leads you out onto the wooden platform, the floorboards warm under your feet from the early evening sun. It stretches out about ten feet and wraps around the entire back end of the house, with easily the most breathtaking vantage point you’ve seen thus far. An entire view of the creek that disappears into the valley, the image of dancing wildflowers on distant rolling hills, the sun that continues to glow in the distance, and a gentle breeze with the faintest hint of salt, as though from a distant ocean. It felt like its own quiet little world. A place where time slows, and you can just be as you are. It was difficult to put into words, but you had never felt more at peace in your entire life.

Gojo leans over the sturdy yet worn railing as he glances down at the grass near the foundation of the house. You come up beside him, loosely curling your hands into a grip around the rusted metal.

You see him turn his face to you in your periphery, but you continue to stay staring ahead.

“So…what do you think? Can you picture yourself living here?” he asks you as a soft brush of breeze passes by. 

“Well–” you start, but then a sobering thought flashes through you, “wait, Satoru, what happened to your clients?”

“Oh, yeah,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket to glance at it, “they texted me about ten minutes ago that they weren’t going to make it.”

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve left.”

“Well, you seemed like you were in some sort of trance while you were looking around. I was scared to interrupt it.”

You breathe in deep and then let out a slow sigh, your shoulders dropping slightly. “Mhm. The house is beautiful. And, yes, I could picture myself living here.” 

More than just that. It was like a dream house. The one that a person would see in fleeting memories right before they pass, as it holds all of their most beloved ones. That ethereal, it was. 

He hums softly. You look over at him and find him blinking slowly. The wind brushes through his hair, ruffling it up gently, to where you could see the blueness in his eyes a little more clearly. That, too, was ethereal. 

“Satoru,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He continues to stare at the horizon. “Sure.”

“Where did you live before you moved here?”

“New york city,” he easily tells you.

But the answer surprises you. “R-Really?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Really long.”

“Mm. You don’t seem like it.”

“Like what? An asshole from the city?”

“Mhm. Just a regular asshole.”

He laughs. You feel the rumble of it from the way your shoulder was pressed up against his arm. 

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask him. But the question was not one that you had thought to say. Rather, it felt as though it was placed on your tongue by someone else.

You feel his shoulders rise slightly with the deep breath he draws in as he leans over the railing a bit more. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I still own a place there in downtown Manhattan,” he says, “but I don’t really plan on moving back there ever. So I was thinking of selling it and getting something out here instead.”

“Oh?” you say, “like what? Where?”

“This,” he says, pointing to the wooden panels you two were standing on, “this house.”

You blink, caught between surprise and something deeper. “This house?” you echo, your voice quiet. 

He nods, his fingers tapping lightly against the railing. “Yeah. Although, I still show it to people if they’re interested. It’s been on the market for over three years though.”

You let your gaze drift over the balcony, the way the light softens against the weathered wood, and suddenly, the house doesn’t feel the same. Like it carries more weight somehow. Like it feels more real, more alive. And maybe that’s what makes a house a home–the intent to belong in it. 

"You see that greenery over there?" he asks, his arm stretching out as he highlights an area in the distance with his hand, "aaaaall the way down there?" Now pointing at the creak.

"Mm," you squint, "uh-huh!"

"Believe it or not, those are all avocado trees."

Your eyes widen and then you look at him. "No way."

He smiles. "Yeahhh. Three-point-four acres of 'em. And they're all a part of this lot."

Your smile matches his equally as nerdy one. "Wow I bet you loooove that.

"I do," he grins, and then gratuitously sights, "all I can eat guacamole 'til the day I die."

You snort.

"Yeah, anyways, that's why no one wants to buy this house," he says, "guess how much it costs to water them per month.”

"Mm, per month?" you look up to the golden sky, "a few thousand?"

"Try a hundred-and-fifty thousand."

"What–...I beg your finest fucking PARDON?!?!"

He laughs. "Yeah that's usually the reaction I get when I end a tour of this house on that note."

“That’s so insane…what’s the point of buying the house, then?”

"Avocados are hard to grow, they can be finicky, but all the land on this lot is extremely fertile," he says, "and if you can import the produce, it actually ends up being pretty lucrative." He points across to the dip in the hill behind the creak. "You could turn that place over there into some kind of ranch, too. Or a wedding venue, and rent it out. I don't know. The property has a lot of investment value. But the house itself is a bit dated. Would need some work."

"Like a fixer-upper on HGTV,” you offer for the conversation.

"Yeahhh. Something like that."

"Mm," you hum.

"Y’know, I was on HGTV once."

"What?! There's no way."

"Yup. House hunters."

"Bullshit. I would've known. I have seen every single episode since I graduated college."

"Oh, well, this was back when they still had Design Star on. I was like twenty-four or something. Fresh new realtor."

"Oh right. I was still in college then. I forgot that you're ancient."

He gives you an irritated side eye.

"So...will you be fixing up this house?" you ask him. His hobby of woodworking starts to make a little bit more sense.

"Maybe. I don't know if I'm too young to be thinking about retirement yet...but that's kind of what I was thinking of turning it into. A dream retirement home."

"You're definitely not young. Don't worry about that."

He gives you another irritated side eye.

"What happens to your other house, then?" you say. "The one next door."

“Hmm," he muses, "I'll probably stay there another year or so and then rent it out eventually."

"You don't want to settle down there? Raise your kids there?" you blurt out. You immediately wince a little at the forward question, but wasn't that something people thought about when thinking of a house? Do they not imagine filling it with their own hopes and dreams? Do they not picture their spouse sitting on the porch outside, swinging with the wind? Do they not picture their children's laughter down the hallway? 

A shiver runs down your spine. You glance over at Gojo, who continues to stare forward towards the horizon, His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he's deep in thought staring out into the landscape as the golden sun begins to turn purple in the sky, casting a dimming glow on his face.

And you wonder. You briefly wonder what a home must mean to him, after having to witness his parents perish in the flames of the one that housed his childhood. 

"It's a nice house," he finally responds to you, "but a part of me wants to live faaaaar away from everyone and everything someday." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, like he can already tell how contradictory you find that sentiment to be. Mr Grew Up In New York City wants to live in a quaint little cape-cod-esque agriculture farmland property miles away from major civilization? what was it about the city that changed him so much? “Just be at peace, you know. Plant a million more avocado trees out here in the middle of nowhere, and not have to worry about their devilish spawns dropping all over my cute neighbor's herb garden.”

You flutter your eyelids, the comment catching you off guard, before your entire posture softens. "Satoru...it's ok. I'll move my herb garden."

"Oh, you thought I meant you? I was talking about seventy-four year old Barbara to my right."

You sulk your shoulders and roll your eyes, turning away from him to face forward towards the landscape again.

He laughs. "I'm just teasing."

You glance over at him again, and there's that same distant stare he casts over the greenery in the distance. 

"I can't believe your dream in life is to become a farmer," you say.

"Ehhh. It's honest work." he exhales slowly. The sun is now sitting on the hilltop. "It's just a dream, anyways. Just a dream. I'm still allowed to have those, right?" It was asked with genuine curiosity. 

"Why are you asking me for permission?"

His eyes hood ever so slightly, a dip in his expression you can't quite discern. but it's evident in the way his gaze off across the horizon dampens. "Hm. I don't know."

You shiver a little as the evening wind brushes past, and Gojo catches sight of the movement. you mentally curse yourself, because you know that you've just cut this moment short.

"It's cold," he says, "let's get inside."

You try to think of ways to stay here. Ways to lengthen this moment. Ask him for his jacket and make some teasing comment about how he's not a gentleman. Or lie and say that you're not cold at all, that you run warm when you know all your life you've always had cold hands and feet. Or just tell him that you don't want this moment to end. Tell him you want to see the sun through its sunset. Tell him how you never want to step foot off of this house ever again.

"Okay," you whisper. 

And he leads you back inside, down the stairs, and as you stand out on the veranda, at the grassy hills towards his car, you implant this memory in your head, this feeling of standing on this home and dreaming as if it were yours. Before all it becomes is exactly that, 

Only a dream. 

.

.

.

.

.

[end of ch.7, ‘if u wanna get groceries’]

songs of the chapter:  groceries by mallrat  margaret by lana del rey

a/n. thanks so much for reading! this was a fun chapter to write, especially the house sequence. i think it’s mentioned in the chapter somewhere, but yeah…i just think there’s something so romantic and melancholic about a home :’’) i guess that’s a recurring theme in ihm, with reader’s childhood home holding the memories that her mother has lost of her, and then ihm gojo losing his parents to a destructive house fire, and also him being a realtor, and also reader planning to sell her house, and then the dream house in this chapter. it’s been fun breathing a bit of life into these different settings themselves. ah i also decided i want to include little “song(s) of the chapter” to the end of these! just as something kinda fun to do. i’d say these are songs that inspired me to write certain scenes within the chapter, or songs that i listened to a lot while writing the chapter, or songs i could picture playing during the ending credits if this were a tv show xd. but yeahhh!! also just a way to share music bc i love music lol.  big thank you to my beta readers mirl, leni, and ayelin for helping me out w parts of this chapter n giving me motivation to write it <33 i appreciate you guys sososo much!! i really attribute a lot of my writing motivation towards them, as i’ve been really busy but been able to write these lengthy chapters bc of their support.  i did kinda rush parts of this chapter just because i wanted to get it out on the weekend, so i apologize if there are errors or mistakes of if anything’s a little confusing or sudden. tbh i did want to spend a tiny bit more time on it but, that’s ok. fuck it we ball also! i just wanted to say a quick thank you to all of my readers and those that have stuck around for so long with me or maybe newer readers who have interacted or become invested w my works recently… i know that i am so slow w updates and sometimes inconsistent w it as well, life just gets so crazy for me and it’s a struggle to find proper time to sit down and write, and i wish soooo badly to put out chapters faster, but yea easier said than done haha. but all of my readers who continue to engage with lil ol’ me even despite all of that really means a lot to me, more than i can say :”) i still face self doubts so often w my writing, i’m halfway convinced i’ll never be satisfied w my craft, but the little interactions i have w everyone really make my day and push me forward to write even when it’s hard and i realized i haven’t really said a proper thank u to u guys for that as of late. plus i know jjk manga has ended and also i took a hiatus n also tumblr has lowkey been fuckin me over on the algorithm too lol etc etc i definitely have noticed i’ve lost some readers n engagement along the way, which i understand is natural n just a part of being a long fic author however daunting that may be, but i just really wanted to say a thank you to those who continue to be here irrespective of all of that. i appreciate everyone who sees value in my works enough to read them, follow up w them, interact w them, share them, like them etc. especially w ihm bc sometimes i feel so bad for the slow burn and the yap haha i’m sure some of you may be privy to the fact by now that this story will be very long and also so much more than just the romance. but…i find confidence from you all to follow my vision and i’m really grateful for that.  very likely that the next chapter is in ihm gojo’s pov :0 very exciting and makes me a lil nervous. for some reason i find his pov somewhat intimidating to write for loool. but hopefully i’ll pull it off.

much love!! there will be a delay in getting this chapter up on ao3 and also adding it to the masterlist etc bc i'll be away from keyboard when this posts from my queue, but everything should be updated by the time i'm back home tonight :) see you all in the next one <3 -ellie

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[meo-eiru]

Day 3 of Character Trivia Night!

For tonight we have Lavi

Lavi is the son of two high ranking demons

Beauty and power makes you attractive to other demons, so Lavi who had both right from birth was spoiled like no other his whole life

Due to his power and rank it's really hard to summon him so when you did it he assumed you went out of your way to do it and was targeting him specifically

His ideal partner is someone who does what he says and spoils him, if you don't fit that description he'll forcefully make you fit the mold

He likes to stay up late and laze around in bed until lunch time, he'll also force you to follow the same schedule as well

Out of all the boys he's the most likely to visibly get angry at you and take it out on you physically

A lot of stuff makes him angry but there are levels to it and each level brings out a different type of tantum

Low level ones are not including him in something you're doing, not watching the show he wanted to watch, complimenting animals and/or inanimate objects when he's right there, not kissing him as soon as you wake up etc. These don't cause big outbursts but will cause him to act extra needy

Mid level ones are going out without him, forcing him to wear something he doesn't like, not praising him properly, being in a room with other men, not having sex with him as soon as he shows signs of wanting it, not responding when he's talking to you etc. These ones will cause bigger outbursts, often public. He'll be crying, screaming and stomping his feet. He might pull your clothes or hair or physically attack someone near you

High level ones are actually sleeping with someone else, actively ignoring him to pay attention to someone else, badmouthing and/or insulting him, attempting or managing to summon another demon, attempting to exorcise him and/or physically hurting him with holy items etc. With these he'll be mad. It's pretty much over for everyone around. If the offense is tied to someone else like a man you were with or a demon you summoned he'll personally make their face unrecognizable, drag their bloodied body around in hell and hang it on a high spot to set an example. When it comes to you he won't be screaming like his normal tantrums, he'll just grab you by your hair and drag you to a bedroom. If you try to protest he'll pierce your skin with his nails deep and leave bleeding scratch marks to make sure you remember what he'll do to you forever. He might also dig his heels into your skin depending on how much you're fighting back.

He can burn others, charm them or suck out their life energy. He's small but does have inhumane strength and speed

His blood can work as a light aphrodisiac but is addictive

No matter what type of personality you have he'll force you to be on top of him during sex

He really likes it when you mark his skin and if it's for sex you're allowed to choke him too. The next day he'll run out half naked just to make the people around see the marks

Once you tried going to work/school while he was still asleep but he unfortunately raided the building as soon as he realized you were gone and threw the desks around until you let him sit on your lap as you worked

His wings and tail can be quite sensitive

He likes to wrap the tail around your leg while you two are having sex and squeeze it hard

He likes being manhandled if it's for foreplay

He wants you to spoil him and buy him all the clothes and accessories he wants and hasn't asked for yet, he doesn't really care if you end up in debt or something, he can always just drag your soul down to hell with him

But he lowkey enjoys watching you struggle to take care of him

He doesn't need to eat but he loves anything sweet, if a normal human tried eating the desserts he eats on a daily basis they'd die from sugar overdose

He loves to publicly shame anyone who shows interest in him while he's already with you and expects you to do the same

His skin is completely spotless, not a single scar which is something to proud of as a demon. It's one of the reasons why he exposes so much skin

[mv1simp]

Agora Hills ♥️

Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

heavily requested part 2 to cuffing szn! Can also be read as stand alone/on its own too 😌😌

kissing, i hope they caught us, whether they like it or not (i wanna show you off, i wanna tie the knot)

Your sweet boyfriend, Max Verstappen, is a lot bigger than you are, and a lot stronger too. You know firsthand - when he uses it time and time again to prove how your curves are the perfect size for him, both in the bedroom and out of it. Your insecurities don't stand a chance against his protectiveness. This tough season, though, you want take control and look after him, and take all of his tension away. You might have underestimated just how strong Max is though...

content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom!max, reader who tries to be a dom but fails lol, overstimulation kink, brief mention of eating disorder, WC 4k

Filing your patient’s notes back in place, you warmly say your goodbyes to the nurses and make your way to the carpark. You loved your work as a doctor in women's health, truly you did - it was even how you’d met your loving boyfriend, Max, when you’d delivered his sister Victoria’s baby. But it had been a very trying week with numerous complex births and anxious new parents. On top of that, your sweet boyfriend, who’d normally take all your stress away in the evenings by breaking you apart with his strong hands and then putting you back together again, had been away for the past month on back to back race weekends.

So you’re very excited because he’s finally flown back into Monaco today, and you can’t wait to get home and see him. Tossing your Hermés bag - a one year anniversary present from Max - into the passenger seat, you slam on the accelerator and speed to his downtown penthouse that you’d recently moved into. Your dainty heels click against the hardwood floor as you walk down the hallway, curiously looking around the living room and pouting when you don’t spot him lounging on the sofa or back on his sim. Frowning, you think he must not have arrived yet - but then you spot the open French doors on the balcony.

Eagerly walking through them, your suspicions are confirmed when you see your boyfriend comfortable dressed in a hoodie and sweats, intently watching something on his phone and oblivious to the outside world. When he hears your excited Maxie! his thick neck snaps up, focused expression morphing into one of pure adoration as he swiftly stands up from the outdoor chaise and steps towards you. Schatje! he beams, broad arms opening to meet your running figure and easily picking you up to bury him face in your neck. You laugh delightedly, finally reunited with your golden retriever of a boyfriend. Missed you so much, pretty girl, Max murmurs, his deep voice muffled as he presses soft kisses all over your neck and chubby cheeks. Did you finish work early? Sorry, I got distracted, I was going to come pick you up.

You sigh contently, feeling some of stress of the past couple weeks leaving your tense figure just from your boyfriend’s warm and secure embrace. Max supports your full weight when you wrap your soft thighs around his toned waist, your YSL heels slipping off and landing on the ground. Not as much as I missed you, you promise, your small palms running across those ridiculously broad shoulders to gently tug at his soft locks. He draws back just enough to let your plush lips meet his, the pair of you smiling into the sweet kiss. You’re well on your way to a steamy make out when the ringtone of Max’s phone interrupts the mood. You pout as Max reluctantly pulls away, scowling when he sees his boss’s name flash on the screen. When he doesn’t bother answering the call, turning back to you instead, you curiously ask if he was going to get that.

Max firmly tells you absolutely not, I have much more important things I’d rather be doing as he carries you inside. He sets you down gently on the soft bed, moving to cover your much smaller frame underneath him as he grins down at your flushed face, his display of strength never failing to get your heart fluttering. Things like taking good care of my pretty girlfriend like she deserves, hmm?

Distantly, you hear his phone ringing again but it’s once again ignored as he leans down, desire clear in his gorgeous blue eyes. As much as you would rather resume your makeout session (and wow, did it take a lot of self control for you to pause this), you place a hand to his broad chest to gently halt him. He pauses, confused, and you tilt your head and ask if everything was okay, he normally would never miss Horner’s calls?

Max rolls his eyes at the mention of his boss’s name, flopping down next to you with his head propped up against a large palm. He grunts out that Horner had been up his ass for no reason lately, waffling and trying to skirt around the issue when Max had been very clear that the goddamn car was the issue this season.

Your boyfriend’s angled jaw clenches as he says this, his expression turning stormy as his mind wandered someplace else. You’re perplexed, as normally your boyfriend was a bit of a yapper - something you adored about him - and could easily complain to you for hours about anything troubling him. You feel a bit guilty as you may have taken a bit of a backseat this month given how rare a bad outcome was for Max’s races. You’d known that this season hadn’t been as stellar but assumed it would all smooth out - but by the looks of it, it clearly hadn’t, and you knew Max took his racing career extremely seriously and wouldn’t repeatedly avoid calls from Horner without good reason.

You sweetly apologise to Max for being so out of it, a worried expression on your face, especially since he had always been so attentive and caring to your needs. Especially last year when you’d been struggling with an eating disorder when fans had made vicious, jealous comments about your curvy figure once your relationship had gone public.

Max’s gaze softens as he looks down at your guilty brown doe eyes, his hand coming up to brush against yours which was resting on his stubbled cheek. His heart swells at seeing how cute you were trying so hard to make sure he was feeling okay. Oh, schatje, he croons, leaning down to lovingly kiss your adorably scrunched brows. Don’t worry, you always take such good care of me whenever I need it. It’s just the same old cycle of racing drama. Besides, things at the hospital were really hectic this month, right?

You try to protest the change in topic, wanting to bring it back to him, but then he’s sliding his tongue in to explore your mouth and you’re rather distracted, especially when his fingers trail up your fitted skirt. Your ass looks amazing in this, Max groans against your ear, his cheeks lightly dusted in pink despite his bold words, telling you he liked you in it so much he almost didn’t want to take it off. You giggle at that, coyly telling him he didn’t have to and guiding his hand to slide the skirt up over your thick hips, making his cheeks flush from your tempting show. Grinning wickedly, Max shamelessly lets his hungry gaze wander all over your curvy figure before he makes good on his earlier promise to take good care of his pretty girlfriend.

Really, there was no better stress relief than your boyfriend bending you in half, you think satisfactorily that evening when you and Max are out with friends for dinner. He catches your eye as you stretch your neck, your muscles pleasantly relaxed after a month of wound up tension. When he smirks at you over his G&T you flush, knowing he was probably thinking about how he’d had you in several different positions just a couple of hours earlier. Quickly joining the conversation on your right, you hope your friends don’t notice the heat rising to your cheeks everytime Max’s blue eyes meet yours. You two had been dating for over a year now, so you had no idea how he could still make you feel shy and flustered after an hour (or two) in bed.

Still, you hadn’t forgotten about your earlier conversation with your boyfriend, where you’d made it clear you wanted to support him more. Over the next couple of weeks, whenever you’d ask him about it, he’d open up a bit but you still noticed a frustrated edge to his behaviour. You tried to talk to him about it, of course, with a soft hand against his swollen bicep to sweetly murmur that you would always support him and ask how the latest debrief had been, was there anything you could do to help? You offered to cook his favourite dinner, or give him space to spend hours on his sim and practise, or personally go to headquarters right now and give Horner a peace of your mind for stressing out your talented boyfriend-

Max laughed, head tilted back and lips pulled into an adorable smile. You paused your rant to enjoy the sound of his genuine laughter, looking at him fondly as it never failed to make your heart race. But he’d still evade your inquiring questions and countless offers to do more, as your need to do more for Max the way he always supported you grew over the next month. For all his yapping, your boyfriend was very much an action man where it truly mattered.

So you made sure to attend his next race, rescheduling a few work commitments and joining him aboard his private jet to fly out to Singapore. He'd protested initially, of course, telling you that you didn't need to add more stress to your busy workload for his sake, but you'd firmly told him there was no where you'd rather be that weekend than by his side. And you remained steadfastly dedicated throughout the free practice and qualifying, diligently observing the team dynamics and Max's mood in response so you could debrief with him in the evenings, letting him yap about it to his heart's content. You made sure to give him space when he needed it or rub a soothing arm over his thick shoulders when he tensed, knowing how physical touch was your boyfriend's love language.

On race day, you arrived stylishly dressed in a House of CB floral corset dress and dainty heeled sandals that perfectly matched the weather. Smiling from behind your sunglasses at the multiple paparazzi and fan cameras clicking at you, you confidently walked alongside your boyfriend with your small hand in his much larger one. The pair of you made for a rather romantic sight with the large height difference, going viral on many a Pinterest board for your couple aesthetic. Of course, you'd learnt the hard way about how quickly public attention could burn someone badly with the hate comments you'd received about your weight or height from jealous fans when you two first went public. Although they had never stopped occurring, only increasing as you and Max stayed together, you had gotten far better at tuning them out. And it seemed your attentive boyfriend hadn't forgotten about it, either, judging by how his grip tightened around your delicate fingers and he protectively pulls you into his side when more paparrazi join the storm.

You're quick to reassure him, telling him how happy you were to be here, wanting him to focus on his race and knowing how guilty he would sometimes feel when reminded of how much his public career negatively affects those he loved. Besides, baby, you wink at him as he's about to buckle his helmet on in the driver's room, You know I hate to miss a chance to see you all worked up and sweaty in those slutty fireproofs!

Successfully diverted, your boyfriend now groans embarrassedly at your words, rolling his eyes but not being able to hide the cute blush that appears on his cheeks or his affectionate smile. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his chest warming at the sound of your happy giggles at his reaction. He can't resist pressing a kiss to your lips then, instead, making you promise you would stay safely in the garage the whole race. Of course, Maxie, you reassured, knowing he didn't need the worry of you encountering the occasional nasty fan adding to his stress. I'll be right here, I promise.

Once the race starts, you're asking yourself why on earth you weren't attending them more regularly, because the sight of Max expertly navigating the track never failed to make you hot and bothered. The high Singaporean temperatures only added to the heat on your face as you heard your boyfriend's normally gentle tone turn into a confident, demanding voice over the team radio. The race was a great one, with the Dutch Lion aggressively fighting his way to P2, making you clap your hands in excitement as he crossed the finish line.

Afterwards, his garage crew guided you to the podium, where Max's blue eyes sparkled warmly at you in the front row, as you laughed with delight, buzzing exctedly. You knew he had been raised to firmly believe only P1 mattered but since you'd begun dating him, you'd made it clear that he was always a strong champion and racer to you regardless of his position. You greeted him as he descended from the podium, beaming up at him as he took you into his strong arms to give you a passionate kiss, your heels lifting off the ground. Cameras clicked around the loving scene, but for once Max didn't mind, content in the feeling of you wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders to whisper how amazing his performance had been!

Setting you down, he took your smaller frame against his with his muscular arm across your shoulder, guiding you away from the crowd. He relaxes a bit closer to the safety of the garage, now answering some reporter's questions as they eagerly question him. He swears he'd taken his eyes off you for only a minute, but suddenly you're not at his side, and he immediately spins around mid interview to look for you. You're only a few meters away, chatting away to one of the news outlets. The reporter holding the microphone balks nervously when a angry looking, 6 foot blonde Dutch appears behind you, looking the very picture of a guard dog with his suspicious glare to the cameraman.

Noticing your boyfriend's intimidating presence, you welcome him into the conversation, saying you'd just been explaining how proud you were seeing him race, the turn into corner eight and when he'd overtaken the Mercedes with DRS were your favourite moments! The reporter hastily nodded, wiping away nervous beads of sweat as he confirmed Yes, yes, we were just discussing the race highlights, and many of our viewers were also eager to know who had styled your lovely girlfriend today, we had many fans hoping to buy the same outfit...?

Oh, Max says, softening his icy glare. Fine. My girlfriend is very beautiful, after all, I can see why those watching would want to have her style. Which she picks out, herself, by the way, no stylist or anything, he adds almost smugly. You giggle cutely at his overprotective antics, leaning in when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays by your side. Pinterest goes crazy that evening with the picture of your boyfriend adoringly gazing down at you, his muscled arm curled around your waist, as he listens to you animatedly explain your outfit to the reporter.

On the flight back home, he'd taken your smaller hand in his again, gently stroking it and avoiding your questioning gaze as he softly murmured that It had been hard, with work recently, and he'd loved having you there as a good luck charm. His cheeks are flushed again as he confesses, almost shyly, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and looking down at your intertwined fingers instead of at your beaming face. He was grateful you'd come, knowing how hard it was to get out of work and also deal with the media circus. His words sounded dangerously close to guilty territory and you sit up immediately, pressing into him so that he finally looks up at you.

Not at all, Maxie you insisted, firmly telling him that the actual hard part had been trying to keep your hands off him, did he have any idea how insanely hot he'd looked when warming up with his trainer this week and boxing shirtless? I had to remind myself that this was technically your place of work and take a cold shower, you continue, enjoying seeing him erupt into laughter at your own confession. He'd slyly suggested that the race weekend was over and, well, maybe it was time to for you to finally join the the mile high club?

Your boyfriend always seemed to know how to make you flustered and you lose any upper hand you had immediately, gasping from his suggestive words and unable to meet his heated stare. Max! Wh-what if someone sees? you whisper nervously, to which Max laughs and tells you he'll just have to have you have you here on his lap then, where no one would notice. The cabin is already empty, giving you two complete privacy and Max doesn't hesitate to make the most of it. He uses the strong arms you'd been admiring to easily bounce you on his cock, the both of you still half dressed. You're completely powerless in his firm grip, eyes rolling in bliss as his large hands leave bruises over your hips from the intensity. You’re desperately trying to keep quiet and Max smirks at this, giving you another wicked thrust at just the right angle so you let out a squeal. You whine from his mean teasing and have to bite down on his shoulder to muffle your satisfied moans as he makes you cum on his cock, leaving a creamy white ring around the base. Afterwards, as he presses a loving kiss to your head as you fall asleep leaning against his shoulder, you can't help but pout over how little control you seem to have over Max in the bedroom as he uses his strength to control the pace. How were you ever going to make him go mindless and relaxed for once?

Of course, the drama continues with work well after Singapore, even though there was a month's break before the next race. Max's schedule is packed with meetings and discussions and debriefs on how to secure the WDC title again this year, and you make sure to keep an attentive eye on him. But to your frustration, you note Max is withdrawing again, turning down your offers to talk his frustrations through or let you take care of him for once. So after you’d already gifted him the latest e-sim racing game, and cooked his favourite foods for dinner, you naturally offered another one of your boyfriend’s favourite things - you.

When he returned from a late strategy meeting he’d had to fly out for, jaw tense and frustration evident on his face, he immediately felt himself start to unwind when he opened the front door of your shared apartment. The delicious smell of roast chicken and potatoes wafted out to the hallway, and he smiled as he walked towards the corner, knowing you must be in the kitchen from the Doja Cat song blasting that you hummed along too. Kissing and I hope they caught us, whether they like it or not...

Jimmy and Sassy, Max's cats, rubbed their tails along your freshly shaved and moisturised legs as you started cutting up the chicken you’d baked. Giggling at their demanding antics, you turn to kneel down and give them a small piece each, whispering that they had to promise they wouldn’t tell Max. An amused chuckle makes you startle and look up to see your boyfriend watching you, leaning against the counter. The tips of his ears go pink as he takes in your angelic white mini dress, its sweetheart neckline and tight waist with flowy skirt showing off your hourglass figure.

Maxie! You greet him excitedly, making his gaze wander when your tits press up against his firm chest when he bends down to let you kiss his cheek. You smelt so addictive, too, like honey and vanilla that he wanted to bury his face in and never leave. You excitedly show him what you’d made for dinner, stepping back and telling him to go take a shower while you finished up. And after he’d eaten your delicious cooking, groaning and telling you how much he missed it when away, you coyly smile and say you’d forgotten to make dessert but if he didn’t mind you had something sweeter you could give him?

The blush returns to Max’s face now as you lean him to give him a deep kiss before settling in between his thick thighs, spread wide apart. Within a few seconds you've pulled his impressive semi out of his sweats and are teasingly jerking him off, letting his leaking tip press against your chubby cheeks. It's a sight that never fails to drive your boyfriend wild and he groans when you swirl your wicked tongue over his sensitive head, one hand still pumping his shaft as you sweetly bat your wide, doe eyes up at him. He can see the curve of your plump ass on the floor peeking out as your white minidress rises up your soft thighs. You take him into your drooling mouth fully, eagerly deepthroating him and placing sloppy kisses along his length when you pull back to take a breath. Fuck, schat, it’s so fucking good, I’m not gonna last- Max swears above you, deep moans rumbling in his chest from your worship of him tonight, his blushing face thrown back into the sofa with pleasure as he threads his hands into your dark curls to softly tug at them. Pleased with yourself, thinking you'd finally gotten him to let go and relax, to let you take care of him for once, you jerk him off, your pink tongue darting out eagerly to catch his hot cum-

But your boyfriend has other plans, apparently, because suddenly he's leaning down and pulling you into his lap. You gasp at the unexpected movement, your hands automatically going around his broad shoulders. He kisses your protests away, leaving you whining that he should let you finish, you wanted to make him feel good, Maxie-

He cuts you off with a low groan against your lips, whispering you that you'd done such a good job, sweet girl, and now he wanted to eat dessert properly. And you hadn't been able to protest any longer because soon enough he had you sprawled across the soft sofa, moaning his name blissfully as he ate you out to completion. Always taste so damn sweet for me, schat he huskily murmurs against your soaked core, strong hand pressing on your soft tummy to hold you down. His blue eyes are trained on your flushed face as his deep, rumbling voice sends sparks shooting in between your legs. He then sends you into another head pounding orgasm when he sinks inside your inviting walls, whispering that it was never going to stop being the most addicting feeling he'd felt.

Face flushed from his generous praise, you desperately hold onto the cushions behind you as Max fucks you into the sofa. You plead with him to let you ride him, Maxie please, let me take care of you too-

Your boyfriend’s blue eyes darken at your request. Schatje, he croons into your ear, I wasn’t clear enough, hmm? The best fucking feeling in the world is having your tight pussy take my whole cock like this, letting me fuck all the stress away. He accentuates each word with a deep thrust, making you squeal and moan endlessly. So you stay right where you belong, sweetheart. Underneath me, taking all of me like a good girl, okay?

Your eyes widen at his dominating tone, your cunny clenching excitedly around his length at the thought of your normally sweet boyfriend using your body like a ragdoll to release his stress. you nod frantically, babbling that you’ll be so so good Maxie, you promise! Max grins wickedly at your teary expression, giving you a passionate kiss as he fucks you with full strength, not holding back as he drives you into a third dizzying orgasm. He’s not done, though, and your drooling pussy twitches from the overstimulation, making you moan weakly that it was too much, you couldn’t handle another one. Oh, we’re not stopping till I say so, schatje Max murmurs against your throat, making his way down to your bouncing tits and taking a swollen nipple into his hungry mouth. You promised to be a good girl, remember? This time you’re gonna squirt all over my cock.

—————————————————————————

A/N: thank you all sm for all the love and support for cuffing szn, i am absolutely here for the midsize girlies and glad you all enjoyed it so much!! Nothing like big boyfriend Max to get us going 😏 Hope part 2 is also good thank u for waiting so long for it xx lmk what u think!

[starryylies]

Simon's reaction his s/o saying "waiting for it still marriage" but turns out she just wasn't ready to show her body ( tho she likes it but yk second thought about it) , but still wants to get fuk by him

Hii thank you for this ask!!

This ask hit close to home. I feel the same way honestly 😭😭

I’m so sorry on how late the response is. I hope you enjoy though!

You’d told simon pretty early on in the relationship that you wanted to wait until marriage.

Simon was perfectly fine with that because that indirectly meant you saw him getting married to you.

It was a Saturday afternoon and you thought Simon had gone to pick up some groceries while you were laying on your shared bed, on a call with your friend

You were expressing how you feel like a liar since you’re basically hiding the truth on as to why you don’t want to have sex with simon.

Simon being the sneaky fuck he is decided to evesdrop because he was suddenly nervous as to why you don’t want to do it with him if marriage is not the reason.

He started overthinking, feeling as if he isn’t attractive enough for you to actually have sex with him.

But his train of thought was halted when you told your friend that it’s because you don’t know if he will react pleasantly to the way your body looks and also because he’d be the first person to see it.

Simon was dumbfounded, like he genuinely didn’t understand where the fuck you’d even get the idea that he won’t like your stunning and perfect body, He knows it’s stunning and perfect because he’s staring at it almost all the time

but the first person to see it thing really inflated his ego.

Simon wants to burst in your room and confront you but he stops himself to hear what you have to say next

You tell your friend you’re scared he might find your body disgusting and unattractive.

And that’s when simon decides he’s heard enough and decides to barge into your room.

“Hey si, what’re you doing home so quick, did you get the groceries?” You’re startled by his sudden appearance and start worrying if he heard your conversation

“I never went”

“ were you evesdropping on me?” You ask hurriedly

“Yes” he says with a blank face.

You really don’t know how to reply to that but applaud his honesty from inside

“Love, I needa speak to you”

“I don’t get where you’ve gotten this idea from but ya really need to get rid of it” he says curtly

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” You groan out

“Well not hard enough.”

“Simon!”

“Okay sorry, but trust me luv. I’ll be the lucky bastard who’d get to see you and trust me there’s no way in hell I’d ever think of it as any less than the best”

“But si, it’s not like the girls on insta and TikTok”

“I don’t have social media”

“Fine then it’s not like the girls in porn”

“Even you know I don’t watch porn, find it fucking terrible and hilarious. Don’t know how ya wank to it honestly.”

You’re left speechless.

Simon seems to catch onto that and then continues to say,

“And love trust me, we don’t have to do it if you’re not ready yet. Whenever and wherever you are, I’m ready too” he gives you a soft pat on your head, tracing his fingers down to your cheek and giving it a soft pinch.

“So wherever?” You joke, giving him a toothy and mischievous smirk.

“In the fuckin’ backseat if ya want to baby” he laughs out, his deep chuckle reverberating in your spine.

“I love you si, thank you for not being an ass about this”

you give him a soft kiss which takes further by making it more intense, his mouth gobbling yours and sounds of soft moans in between flooding the room.

Oh and your friend on the call is stuck hearing all that as well :)

[softestqueeen]

prompt: "Oh? Does that turn you on?" a/n: sub!spencer lives in my head rent free. i hope you like it, enjoy <3 so, this is a repost beacause the original post got literally 0 notes and i want to see if tumblr is the issue or if it was really my writing 😭 original post + request warings:18+ MDNI!!, smut, pet names, hand job, dom/sub dynamics, mommy kink pairing: sub!spencer reid x dom!reader I 979 words special prompts I special masterlist

You were standing in the kitchen of your boyfriends flat. Spencer Reid could do a lot of things and knew how to do even more things, but the one thing he never quite mastered, was cooking.

By no means were you a good chef, but you knew you way around a kitchen and could whip up a few meals. Which is why you were currently in Spencers kitchen, showing him how to do a simple lasagna.

"And that's how you do the layers. The key is to stay consistent and make the layers even. Now you go ahead and try, Spence."

Your boyfriend didn't enjoy the cooking as much as the close proximity while you were showing him how to do all the steps, guiding his hands or just hugging him from the side while watching something cook.

Watching Spencer cook away made pride swell in your chest. This wasn't your first cooking lesson and it was definetely a dramatic improvement from your first one, where you had a quick bathroom back and once you returned he managed to completely burn the pasta sauce. He looked like a kicked puppy while you threw the sauce away.

But since then he had gotten significantly better, even surprising you with a home cooked meal on your anniversery.

Once Spencer successfully laid out the next layer of the long pasta and sauce, you couldn't help but smile.

"You did such a good job, you're getting better and better," you knew your boyfriend loved it when you praised him, so you decided to tease him a little bit with it ,"you're such a good boy, Spencer."

That made him stop. Spencer was glad that he wasn't facing you right now, but rather was standing at the counter with you standing behind him to his right, now looking at his face. You immediately saw his blush, but Spencer was glad you couldn't see the boner he was now sporting after hearing his words.

He knew you were teasing him in a way, though you were still earnest. Still, he couldn't keep his body from reacting, the words planting a seed inside of his mind in a place he hadn't dared to discover yet.

You could see immediately what had happened, how your words affected Spencer. A slow smile spread over your face and you stepped closer to him, your lips now directly next to his ear.

"Oh, does that turn you on? I didn't know you liked being called that, though you were always my good boy." Now you were being a bit mean, but you knew that Spencer would tap out if it got too much.

At you calling him a good boy again, Spencers breath hitched. He wasn't surprised that you almost immediately caught on to his feelings.

You reached around his hip, palming his length through his trousers, making Spencer moan. Starting to pepper kisses over his neck, while Spencer leaned against you, just teasing him for now.

"You like that, baby? Me calling you a good boy?" He could hear you so clearly with your mouth directlly to his ear and his cock twitched in reaction to your filthy words.

It took him a moment to register that you asked him a question, but once he did he nodded, putting more of his weight against you.

"Words, baby, I need words. Be a good boy for me or I'll stop."

"Y- Yes, I- uhm, do like it when you call me that. Please, please I need you."

You could feel him throbbing though his trousers, deciding to have some mercy. Slowly undoing his belt and popping open the button of his jeans. Reaching inside you pull out his length, the tip glistening with precum as Spencer let out a relieved sigh.

Taking him in your hand you slowly start to move up and down, spreading the precum on his length. His pretty moans and whines only spurred you on further, not yet increasing your speed, but the grip you had on him, making him gasp.

You knew this was a new situation for the both of you, the dynamic itself already familiar. You decided to test out the waters, Spencer now being able to think clear enough incase he felt uncomfortable with anything.

"Such a good boy for mommy, huh? You like my hand wrapped arounf you?" Spencer moaned at your filthy words, his cock twitching imaptiently in your hand.

"Yes mommy, please more." Jackpot.

You went faster over his length, your free hand wandering to his front as well, slipping under his t-shirt and sprawling out over his stomach, making his muscles contract.

"You're doing so well for me, baby. I can feel you're getting closer."

"Please, mommy, make me cum. I want to be good for you." His breathing was getting more irregular and you could feel him being impossibly close to his high.

"Don't worry baby, yo're already such a good boy for me. Cum for me, cum for mommy."

Your words finally tipped him over the edge, his cum spurting all over his stomach and your hand. You continued to stroke him, your movements slowing down while he calmed down as well.

You peppered kisses onto evey free patch of skin you could reach at the moment and retracted your hand, taking a paper towel to clean you both up. After washing your hands and cleaning up the evidence of your short lived passion, you were ready to get things done.

"Well I'd say you finish the lasagna and then we'll contine. What do you say, Spence?"

With those words you left a stunned and sputtering Spencer behind. He turned around, looking at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes. But once you gave him a pointed look, he immediately went back to the lasagna. 

You were sure you've never seen someone layer anything that fast.

the requests for this event are OPEN until sunday (16/02)! here are the prompts!

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open! (now also for the x files)

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa @mmmmokdok

[keeryhours]

Masterlist

Eddie with a plus size girlfriend, who is obsessed with seeing you naked, who buries his face in your tits or between your plush thighs and could stay there all day. Who slaps your ass hard as he fucks you from behind, watching the jiggle of your ass and thighs.

Who loves you in short skirts, or crop tops that show off your tummy. Who convinces you to wear that bikini to the pool even though you’re nervous, “Because you look soooo hot in it babe, please let me show you off.”

Eddie, who asks you to prom even though he swore for his entire high school career that it was stupid and he’d never go. Yet there he was, throwing rocks at your window at midnight, guitar slung around his neck and shoulder as he played your song. Then, his honey voice calling up to you, “Will you go to prom with me, princess?”

Eddie, who insists he wants to go dress shopping with you. Who says he wants to see you trying on all those different dresses, seeing the way each one accentuates your body and shows off his favorite parts (which is all of you, to be fair).

When you try on The Dress, you both know immediately. It’s perfect. It’s black and off the shoulders, a flowing, glittering skirt with a slit that goes up to your mid thigh. The bodice has sheer panels that show just the slightest tease of your skin. Eddie wants to rip it off right then and there.

In fact, he follows you back to the dressing room, unzips it for you and bends you over in front of the mirror. You watch as he makes quick work of his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free his cock, aching and rock hard since he saw you in the first dress. He pushes inside of your already soaked pussy, long arm reaching around you to cover your mouth as you let out a whimper.

He pumps into you from behind, hips snapping against your perfect ass with a slapping noise he tries his best to keep quiet with shallow thrusts. He can watch every part of your body in the mirror, from your gorgeous bouncing tits to your fucked out facial expression. He digs his free hand into your hip, and you can’t help but stare at the intense look on his face in the mirror as he fucks you.

He cums fast, the hot as fuck view combined with the thrill of fucking in public proving too much for him to last. He grunts as he fills you up, and your eyes roll back as you feel the warmth of him deep inside.

When he pulls out he helps you get dressed back in your own clothes. He kisses you deeply - “I promise princess, I’m gonna make you cum over and over again when we get home.” You like the sound of that, but honestly didn’t mind that he was the only one who finished with your quickie. You like making him feel good. But of course, he makes good on his promise.

Prom night rolls around, and Eddie picks you up in a limo he saved up for months to rent. When you nearly cry telling him he didn’t have to do all that for you, he shakes his head like it’s total nonsense. “Nothing’s too good for my princess.” You never thought you’d see the day that Eddie Munson went all out for prom.

All eyes are on you when you walk in together. Jaws drop at the sight of the metalhead wearing a suit with his hair neatly combed and pulled back, a boutonnière matching your dress pinned to his chest.

Eddie dances with you all night long. The music isn’t his thing and you know this, but Eddie doesn’t complain once. He actually seems like he’s having a great time.

He’s having an even better time when he pulls you off to the bathrooms, locking you in as he hikes your dress up to your waist, lifting you to sit on the sinks. He drops to his knees and buries his face in your pussy, not caring about your loud, breathless moans as he makes you cum on his tongue. Then he’s undoing his own pants, and you think there may be nothing hotter than Eddie fucking you in a tux.

“Oh my god, baby,” he moans against your neck as he ruts into you, his pace fast and desperate. “You feel so good. Christ, you feel so fucking good, so tight and wet. My perfect girl has a perfect little pussy, doesn’t she?”

When he cums, he’s not quiet. He moans your name, pumping you full of rope after rope of his hot load. His hands grip your hips so hard they tremble. When he finally composes himself, you help each other fix your appearances, hoping no one would notice.

You feel the proof of how good you made him feel dripping down your thighs the rest of the night.

[satellite-evans]

Hi! Could I please request a one shot where Harry is sick maybe during tour and his gf has to take care of him? Thank you! I love your writing!

a/n: thank you so much for liking my work, it truly means a lot! it's a little short but I still hope you'll like it <3

sick on tour

The hotel room is quiet except for the noise of the air conditioning and the occasional sniffle from the lump of blankets curled up in the middle of the king-sized bed. The curtains are drawn, shielding the bright city lights outside from intruding on the peaceful, dimly lit space. Harry has always liked his hotel rooms cozy—candles on the nightstand, his favorite hoodie draped over the chair, and the softest pillows he could find. But tonight, none of it seems to bring him comfort.

You stand at the edge of the mattress, arms crossed, watching Harry sulk into his pillow. His curls are a mess, sticking to his slightly damp forehead, his nose a little pink from the fever, and yet—despite looking absolutely miserable—he’s still trying to convince you he’s fine.

“I can do the show,” he rasps, voice hoarse and scratchy. He attempts to prop himself up on his elbows, but the movement sends him into a fit of coughing. You sigh and press a hand to his chest, gently urging him back down.

“Baby, no. You can barely sit up.”

He frowns, brows knitting together like a petulant child. “S’just a little cold.”

“You have a fever, a sore throat, and you sound like you swallowed sandpaper,” you point out, smoothing your fingers over his clammy forehead. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Harry grumbles something incoherent and burrows further into the pillows. You can tell he hates this—hates being taken care of, hates being seen as anything less than strong. But the thing is, to you, he’s always strong. Even now, curled up in a nest of tissues and blankets, he’s still the man you love more than anything.

Tour has been brutal on him lately. Night after night of performing, giving his all to the crowds that adore him, leaving every ounce of himself on that stage. He never complains—not about the exhaustion, not about the jet lag, not about the toll it takes on his body. But you see it in the way his shoulders slump when he thinks no one is looking, the way his voice is a little more raw each morning, the way he clings to you just a little tighter when he finally collapses into bed at the end of the night.

“I can’t cancel, though,” he whispers after a long moment, his voice laced with guilt. “They’ve probably spent so much money—flights, hotels, tickets, clothes and waited months just to see me. I can’t let them down, I just can't.”

You soften, understanding where his frustration is coming from. Harry has always carried the weight of his fans' happiness on his shoulders, always put them first. It’s one of the many reasons you love him—but right now, he needs to put himself first.

You take his hand in yours, rubbing slow, comforting circles over his knuckles. “Harry, sweetheart, I already spoke to Jeff. He and the team handled everything. They put out a statement, rescheduled the show, and made sure the fans know how much you care about them Not that they need a statement anyway. They know how much you love them.”

His brows furrow. “You—”

“I took care of it,” you interrupt gently. “So you don’t have to worry, okay? The fans love you, but they love you healthy and not sticky. You can’t give them the show they deserve if you push yourself too hard now. That is not what they deserve.”

Harry lets out a slow breath, his tense shoulders easing just a fraction. He still looks guilty, but there’s also relief in his tired eyes. “You really talked to Jeff?”

You nod. “Of course. Your health comes first, baby. Now please let me take care of you."

You slip out of the room quietly and return with a damp cloth, gently dabbing it against his forehead. The coolness makes him sigh, his tense shoulders relaxing under your touch. Then, you hold up a spoonful of honey-laced tea to his lips. He scrunches his nose but accepts it, swallowing with a soft grimace.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice slightly clearer now.

You smile and brush your fingers over his cheek. “Of course, my love.”

After making sure he’s warm enough, you reach for the small bowl of soup on the nightstand that you kindly asked form the hotel staff. “Just a little, H. You need something in your stomach other than medicine.”

"The fans would've probably ask for me to sing medicine tonight but they can't because I need it. The irony." He said, trying to lighten the room up with a joke but cough wave that crushed him once again.

"Drink Harry." You said sternly.

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but he knows better. You lift the spoon to his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation, he leans forward and takes a bite. A small, content sigh escapes him, and you can’t help but grin.

“You’re good at this,” he mutters, sleep beginning to weigh heavy on him.

“I'm just good at loving you lovie,” you reply simply, brushing back his curls as he lets his eyes drift shut.

His fingers reach for yours under the blanket, giving them a weak squeeze. “Love you more.”

You sit beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his fever-warmed temple. “Just rest, my love. I’ve got you.”

And with the way he sighs, relaxing into your touch, you know he believes you.

Tomorrow, he’ll probably try to argue again. Try to tell you he feels fine, that he’s ready to get back out there, to put on another show. But for tonight, he’s yours to take care of. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

[frequentlybald]

Pink Rabbit | Lads Caleb/Reader

Credits to @Silverelitist on X for the cute picture

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You didn’t exactly know what to expect when you invited Caleb to work out with you at the gym. He looked different from before after all, the lean athletic build that had kept bullies at bay had grown…bigger. Toned abdomen gave way to sculpted abs that you had somehow noticed under the fabric of his clothes because how could you not? Legs muscular and thick under the fabric of his black denim jeans, his back was big enough to dwarf you and when he moved you swore you could see the muscles flexing there, begging to be touched. But what always left you flushed and hopelessly distracted were his arms. 

Had he always had such nice arms and you never noticed?

There as he completed his last set of pushups before switching to do them one handed like the complete and utter show off he was, those delicious fibers beneath his skin constricted to pull mesmerizing striations across flesh, a pattern for your eyes to feast on as you trailed your gaze up that oh so thick vein on the side of his arm. You wiped the sweat from your brow, panting softly as you stubbornly kicked up the settings of the treadmill you were finishing up your cardio training for. 

You needed a distraction, and fast. 

Caleb grunted left arm straining with his weight and yet he stayed effortlessly smooth, bobbing up and down from your peripherals as you tried desperately to focus on the sound of the tv speakers. 

Didn’t gyms usually play loud music that you could hear over your headphones? Why was this one so quiet?

Save for the soft sounds of a few patrons talking and the clinking of weight machines it felt like all you could hear was the droning of the tv news station doing nothing to cover the sounds that Caleb was making. You risked a glance black, face flushed when in between reports of increased wanderers you heard another strained groan. 

Fuck he was so vocal. You don’t remember that from when you had to share a P.E. field. 

Caleb switched sides, veins swollen and prominent on his left arm as he tucked it neatly behind his back, he was already back to work, pressing his chest nearly to the floor in steady, slow, bends of his elbow. 

You wondered if he was using his evol a little just to flaunt, seemed likely given how often he used his evol to tease you. 

He paused, another low groan slipping past his lips, his face rosy from the strain as he held himself in a plank to catch his breath. This was usually when you would make some teasing remark about him needing to do more cardio if he was out of breath, but you found yourself at a loss of words when he glanced up at you, catching you staring at him in that skin tight compression tank that the Caleb you knew would have never picked out. He had always worn hoodies for you to steal off him and even underneath there would be a t shirt at least, now it seemed that the Colonel’s wardrobe was majority sleeveless. 

Fuck he really was a show off, and he was smirking at you while you were still staring at how his biceps were bulging. “Enjoying the show pipsqueak?” That look that always said he was flirting with danger reappeared in eyes, you didn’t know what the danger was but at this point it was going to be you because you were already on mile six and felt like you had a nuclear amount of energy to burn. 

Stupid fucking Caleb and his stupid fucking muscles. 

You kept jogging, shoes thumping on the worn rubber tracks beneath you. “If you didn’t want spectators you shouldn’t have decided to do your pushups right infront of the treadmills.” You couldn’t help the indignation creeping into your tone, you hated feeling embarrassed and Caleb specialized in delivering nothing but that. He kept his head tilted up, looking at you with a raised eyebrow that you knew meant that whatever you had said had amused him. 

“C’mon I know you like to watch.” He winked and sat back on his heels, tilting his head back to take a sip of his metal Fleet water bottle you had covered in stickers. You sucked your teeth and glanced away to check the monitor display of the treadmill. You had just finished off your seventh mile and were more than a little...heated. Hitting the stop button on the machine, you slowed to a halt and reached for your towel to wipe the sweat cooling on your skin under the chilly ac vents. 

Caleb really was an ass sometimes.

The towel was just out of reach, dangling in the air against all laws of gravity. You reached for it, helplessly, letting out a meager sore legged hop that left you about three inches still too short. “Caleb!” You turned to face him, flushed face already scrunched in a displeasured pout. He was still leaning back on his legs, looking entirely too amused for your liking. You let out another whine, reaching again just for the towel to still be out of reach. “Because of your stunts I’m using the shower first.” You all but spat out, of course it did nothing to get Caleb to drop the towel and finally end his relentless teasing. 

Caleb’s amusement was unchanged, a smug grin slipping over his lips as his right brow quirked up again. “You know I don’t mind a little cold shower.” Of course he doesn’t, he’s a psychopath who takes cold showers during winter just to press his cold hands onto the warm skin of your back as soon as he’s dressed. 

You huff, deciding with finality that the towel is not worth it and you can just grab another from the rack by the lockers before you head back home to your apartment. You had been meaning to do a little cleaning because god knows despite his apartment in Skyhaven being a spotless, desolate, wasteland, he had a habit of leaving his sour candy wrappers all over your living room. “Whatever, keep the damn towel.” You muttered before darting away to grab your things from the lockers. 

______________________________________________________________

The walk back to your apartment was brisk, and like you had warned, you were the first to use the shower. You were busy lathering soap into your hair, doing your best to keep your thoughts as clean as your body was getting, but it was pointless. The sound of Caleb’s groans kept filling your ears until your eyes were blurring, echoing in your head like a dirty lullaby. 

A song you just can’t get rid of. 

It’s probably what he wanted, he was a tease by nature. Sure he flirted, showed off, but it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything when he had practically begged for you to move in with him moments after reuniting and it didn't mean a thing when he  reluctantly agreed to settle on visits. But even that was growing more infrequent, you were busy as most hunters were, you had cancelled on visit plans a few more times than you liked to admit. But whether or not it was the distance, Caleb has been more forward recently. 

Maybe behind all that teasing there was a genuine interest there, but why would you fuck up a decade long friendship trying to figure that out, he was practically your brother. 

Was he though? You had been ogling him like he was on display at the gym. 

You rinsed away soap suds from your hair, smoothing water away from your face as you debated whether or not anything was there at all. It could be a fluke, a byproduct of suddenly losing one of the most important people in your life and then gaining them back just as quickly. Maybe the naive you from your childhood that was convinced Caleb would be the man you marry, the man who takes all your first, died with Caleb that day at grandma’s house. You had grown up a little without him, met new people, other men.

You didn’t need him. Even if he still wanted you to. 

Of course all of that changed when you padded out into the hall, glancing off handedly as you barely towel dried your hair to see him scrolling on his phone on the couch, still dressed in sweaty gym clothes with the shirt noticeably missing. Those shorts were short, hiking up his muscular thighs to scrunch right where thigh met hip, bare chest on display without a care in the world. 

You reminded yourself as you felt your face heating, you had seen Caleb plenty of times without a shirt. But you were still suddenly full of need, thighs pressing together as you plopped down on the other side of the couch. 

“Did'ya enjoy your shower pipsqueak?” Caleb hadn’t looked up from his phone yet and you already wanted to roll your eyes at the nickname

Pipsqueak, like you were some little kid, still the little girl he would hide the snacks out of reach for. No, that wasn't you. You weren’t a pipsqueak anymore, you were a woman and maybe, just maybe, you did need this new version of Caleb, even if it wasn’t exactly for the same purposes as the old version. Your lips parted, and you were about to deliver an enlightening rebuttal when Caleb interjected. 

“You didn’t dry your hair properly.” His phone was discarded beside him and for a moment your thoughts faltered as you wondered what exactly he had been so engrossed in looking at on there he hadn’t noticed your hair being wet when you sat down. Caleb tutted, like he was scolding a wayward child and you already felt yourself cooling off, the neediness that was between your thighs dulling until it was a low ache that only spiked up when your eyes left Caleb’s for longer than three seconds. 

Letting out a soft sigh you gave him an exasperated look. “Gonna dry it for me?” But Caleb already was pulling the towel from around your shoulders where it was protecting your oversized sleep shirt from being stained by falling water droplets. 

He leaned forward as he ruffled your hair with Terry cloth, that playful smirk on his lips as he let out a huff of mock offense. “M’ that predictable am I?” You simply rolled your eyes hoping that your silence was punishment enough as he swiped the towel against the back of your neck to dry off the water dripping under your t shirt collar. He was gentle, like always, taking all the time in the world just to do a simple act of service for you. While you feigned annoyance he knew you liked it anyways. 

“Do ya’ usually train so hard at the gym?” He asked softly. You hadn’t even noticed how your eyes had fluttered closed under his ministrations but when you opened them you met his gaze. 

“Mmm…Usually not quite so hard but Pumpkin Magus has been giving me a run for my money recently.” It was a flimsy excuse, Pumpkin Magus barely lasted a second on the other side of your gun, not like it stopped him from popping back up to wreak havoc. No, you had really been working so hard in the gym to stop you from thinking about what it would feel like to have your child hood best friend wrap those big arms around your waist as he was fucking up into you. Your face flushed and Caleb, who was always observant when it came to you, got that look again in his eye. The one that told you it was time to look up the cost of funeral arrangements. Just incase. 

The hand that had been drying your hair with the towel, feathered down your jaw with the faintest ghost of touches. It made your skin prickle with goose bumps and your brows lift questioningly. “Pumpkin Magus huh? Ain’t that kinda small fry for a big bad hunter like you?” His voice was low, hands resuming the task of drying your hair. “Still keep the blow dryer under the sink short stack?’ 

You nodded, watching as his headed back to the steamy bathroom, bare back filling your gaze as Caleb dug in the the sink cabinet before pulling out a blow dryer you haven’t used since you moved into your own place. You chewed your lip, debating the merits of arguing when the loud sound of the blow dryer running would surely keep Caleb quiet at least. He settled back on the couch, holding open outspread arms, the blow dryer plugged into the wall and resting on the coffee table. You stared at his outstretched arms before reluctantly settling against his chest as loud whirring filled the room. 

Caleb was touchy, one hand holding the blow dryer while the other switched between parting your hair to get between the layers and resting on your thigh, massaging muscles you hadn’t even realized were sore. Of course Caleb's hand on your inner thigh and a soft complaint against your ear for you to look down so he could dry the back of your head properly meant the only thing you could really stare at besides yourself was Caleb’s hand. 

At least they felt somewhat familiar, calloused from sports teams and weightlifting, big and warm, and…vascular. He had the kind of hands that were catalogued in one of those Reddit fetish pages. Blessedly long fingers with perfectly oblong nails trimmed short and always kept clean. Maybe you should have worn those new pajama pants you ordered online instead of old sleep shorts that barely covered anything when you sat down because your breath audibly hitched when Caleb’s thumb started to stroke lazy circles on the sensitive flesh just before he really hit the danger zone.  

Fuck. what was happening?

Caleb is just being touchy, like always. 

You repeat it to yourself over and over, like a mantra on loop instead of the sound of him groaning when his arms started to shake during pushups. 

You were the one who was being weird. 

But this whole situation was absurd wasn't it? Your childhood best friend blew up in front of your eyes, literally, and somehow miraculously survived without telling a single soul who was left to care about him.

Namely you. 

Suddenly arousal faded into that bitter hurt that always accompanied anger. You preferred it this way, it made actual sense. It wasn't some fleeting vision of Caleb bending you over the counter, Caleb using his evol to keep you pinned to the bed while he ate you out just cause he liked it. 

Fuck would he like it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the blow dryer shutting off, a sudden heavy muteness filling into your apartment. You shifted in Caleb’s lap, silently pleading for him to say something…Anything. He stayed uncharacteristically silent, eyes trained on your face. Tilting your head back, you looked up at him.

He was looking at you with pure adoration, like you were something so precious he was grateful you existed at all. 

You nervously lifted a hand to your face, cheeks flushing as you realized just how close you were. “Thanks.” You chirped the word out, cheeks puffing out as you debated whether or not he would let you slide out of his lap without a cheeky comment. 

Caleb just chuckled softly, hand coming up to ruffle the hair he had just worked so hard to dry off. “Mhmm, Ya’ know I’ll always take care of you pipsqueak.” He sounded like the Caleb you remembered, the Caleb you could depend on, and now you felt like you never really knew him at all. Still, it wasn't something you wanted to bring up, you wanted to enjoy your vacation days for just a little while longer before everything blew up. Caleb would be hurt, you would feel bad for hurting him because somewhere in whoever he is now, he’s still your Caleb. He’s still the little boy who took care of you when you scraped your knee, who always bought two of everything just because of you.

You feigned annoyance, although a fair amount of it was genuine. “Quit calling me pipsqueak, I’m not a little kid anymore.” Caleb’s head tilted to the side, right brow twitching upwards and you knew you were in for it. 

His hands slid off where they were resting on the couch cushions, creeping past your lower back before wrapping around your waist to roughly tug you to his chest. His chin rested in between your neck and shoulder and you could already feel your pulse racing. “That’s not true, you’ll always be my baby.” His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck as he spoke, voice a low deep rumble with just enough of a teasing lilt at the end that it didn’t exactly sound flirtatious but made you feel like it was. He buried his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply before speaking again, voice muffled by your skin. “The little baby I always gotta take care of ‘cause you need me.” 

Was he…Nuzzling you?

With a flushed face and a quick excuse you were already attempting to escape his grip but he flexed his biceps and you were squeezed in. “Obviously I did fine without you.” You reply with as much snark as you can muster. You’re thankful he can’t see your face right now although with the feeling of weightlessness growing you guessed that was about to change.

He’s using his fucking evol to spin you around so you’re straddling his lap to face him. Your face is lit up red like the apple stickers decorating his water bottle by the couch on the floor. It’s all you can bear to look at when gravity finally returns and you’re plopped right where he wants you. 

On his lap, having to look at him. 

But you look anything but happy about the new seating arrangement. Lips pulled in a frown you only ever get when he’s the one who riled you up. But Caleb looks like how he always does.

In control. 

“What? M’ I not taking good care of my sweet girl?” His lips were already curled into that grin he used when he was trying to butter you up. 

His sweet girl? When did he say shit like that? When did he call you anything other than some variation of pipsqueak? 

At least he wasn't calling you pipsqueak. 

You shifted again in his lap, growing fidgety. This conversation was quickly moving into deeper waters with how hard your heart was pounding and how red your face bloomed.

The problem was Caleb was persistent. 

You had to get rid of him to give yourself time to cool off. You made a show of sniffing the air, nostrils flaring as you scrunched up your face in mock revulsion. “Caleb…You smell, and you’re all sweaty from the gym. Go shower.” Caleb didn’t move, he just stared at you, eyes strangely intense in a way that made you feel pinned to the spot. 

He wasn't even using his evol.

After a silent moment of the two of you just staring at each other, Caleb acquiesced, sliding you off his lap and back onto the couch with his hands on your thighs even though he could have just used his evol to move you without lifting a finger. “M’kay boss, whatever you say.” 

You huffed. That didn’t sound like he was admitting defeat like usual. But still, you watched his back as he retreated to the bathroom and started the shower. 

He called you fucking sweet girl and baby all on the day you start really noticing him as something other than your childhood friend Caleb. And it all feels like a trap somehow. Like he’s trying to dangle sweets in front of your face again. 

You could be persistent too.

______________________________________________________________

Your apartment was always cozy at night, a far cry from Caleb’s back in Skyhaven. Since Caleb was staying for a whole week the two of you settled into a routine. Caleb cooked dinner in his pjs, you joined him to eat while watching plane disaster videos because one thing you had in common was morbid curiosity. Eventually it would switch into deep dives about streamers with crazy enough allegations to make the both of you side eye each other. And then you would head to your bed in your room and leave Caleb to sleep on the couch. 

Although, when you walked out of your bedroom, eager for dinner, slippers scuffing softly against your apartment floors, you paused at the end of the hall looking out on the open concept living room and kitchen. Caleb was cooking in just boxers now. 

Your face flushed, just when you had finally decided you could finally be normal around him he has to show off again. 

Caleb was such an asshat it was unbelievable. 

And now your emotions were warring between the classic ‘LHL What is it?’ Scenario. Love, Hate, or Lust? You couldn’t make sense when it felt like all three. Taking a deep breath until you felt the heat on your cheeks dissipate you waltzed into the kitchen as casually as you could muster. Filling a glass of water up in the sink. “You really made yourself comfortable huh?” It sounded like a gripe, but Caleb’s back was still turned to you and you were appreciatively glancing over at his muscles between large gulps of tap water. 

Maybe he’s been feeding you aphrodisiacs? 

You mulled the thought over in your head, briefly, before focusing in on Caleb who was certainly speaking to you. “Hey, you listening in or are you gonna keep staring at me like I’m a martian?” His brow twitched up, a smirk tugging his lips into that soft m shaped line you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. 

“Start over, I’ve gotten so used to you staying at my place you’re like background noise now.” You tilted your head to the side, fighting to keep your eyes above his collar bones. 

Caleb lets out a long sigh, shaking his head like he expected this of you. 

His sweet girl.

And suddenly you were blushing again, just at the memory of those words falling from his lips. You felt like a puppy, begging for just a few more words of praise at his feet. 

You hated it. 

“Well I was saying I really have to do laundry. I didn’t pack much.” You ignore his statement, finding it awfully suspicious why Caleb of all people wouldn’t do laundry before he’s completely run out of clothes. Maybe this new side of him was more forgetful. 

You purse your lips. “Feel free to use the machine, I think I have some of your old shirts in the closet.” Caleb nodded, barking out what sounded like an order to watch the stir fry while he looked. You obliged him if only to satiate your growing appetite. You could barely tell if it was for food anymore.

Fuck what was he doing to you?

He came back 10 minutes later, hair rustled, one arm tucked behind his back, and a shirt he used to wear a lot in high school draped over his frame. It had a few stains, mostly from you spilling your morning coffee on the front because you always wore it to bed. For a minute he looked like the old Caleb you knew, but wasnt that just deja vu by now? “Found somethin’ cool in your closet.” His voice a teasing rumble as he broke you out of your nostalgia. 

You shrugged thinking it was probably a photo album or maybe a keepsake you kept from the salvage of grandma’s home. But the look on Caleb’s face made you pause as you scooped cooked stir fry onto two ceramic plates. “What?” 

He had the kind of shit eating grin that made you start to break into a nervous sweat. While looming over you Caleb pulled out your vibrator from behind his back. The hot pink rabbit toy you kept tucked away in a dust bag in your closet for the nights where your job really did keep you up. “Didn’t think you were such a naughty girl keeping stuff like this around where anybody could find it.” You immediately reached for it, face flushing a deeper shade of red as he held it high above his head. 

Why did he have this incessant need to watch you struggle?

You struggled between feeling mortified, flustered, turned on by the fact that he didn’t care that what he was holding had been inside you, that he even wanted to tease you about it in the first place. 

“You’re such a bully Caleb!” You reached up again and Caleb finally dropped his hand just enough to let you grab it from him. You cradled the silicone toy, brows knitted together as you shot him an accusing glare. “It wasn't where just anyone could have found it. It was in a dust bag and you snooped just to embarrass me!” 

Caleb leaned against the island countertop, head tilting to the side and brow raised. “Thought I told you that you could ask for my help with anythin’.” 

You had to grip the counter to stop yourself from going weak in the knees, your voice nearly coming out a hushed squeak before you swallowed down the knot in your throat to finally speak. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Caleb’s arm flexed when he tightened his knuckles around the edge of the countertop, your eyes instinctively darted down to watch the muscles dance below his skin, tightening up just to relax again. He let out an amused chuckle that sounded filthy to your ears, but you couldn’t tell if it was your mind playing tricks on you. “Could use these hands you seem to like so much. Or is it the arms you’re always starin’ at?” 

Your head went blank, eyes wide, darting between his knuckles, white from how hard he was gripping the counter, to his arms where inches upon inches of muscle built up to the stretch of his shoulder, than his face, with his eyes so dark it felt like they were burning into you. Your face was hot, your mind hazy, and your jaw was undoubtedly hanging open. 

“You’re gonna catch flies like that baby” He chastised, hand coming up to nudge your jaw closed with the second knuckle of his index finger. You closed it, still staring at him wide eyed. You didn’t know what you were feeling, you just knew it felt warm and tingly and shot right between your thighs. Caleb dragged his hand down your jaw to your throat, stepping closer until he had you shuttered against him in the bend of the countertops. He tilted your face up and stroked at the skin of your cheek, face leaning down until he was inches away from you. 

“Caleb.” His name slipped out more like a broken whimper than the warning tone you had tried to exude. His thumb rubbing softly at your face while his fingers cradled the back of your head like you might collapse at any moment. 

Your legs did feel like jello. 

Caleb hummed, the sound saccharine sweet like he ran it through honey. “What is it sweetheart?” Your hand, still clutching the pink silicone of the vibrator, pressed against the countertop behind you. 

You wanted to put your hands on him, you wanted to feel those muscles in his arm shift as he worked you over and over until you were mewling and fucked drunk. “Can I touch you?” The vibrator forgotten about on the countertop as your hands tentatively reached up to his shoulders. 

He snorted, a little incredulousness slipping into his tone as he brought his other hand against your hip, squeezing the flesh there playfully. “‘Course you can sweet girl, you never asked before.” 

Before was different, before was when he was your childhood best friend, the Caleb that wasn't exactly so bold, the Caleb that was like your brother. You shifted your gaze down to your slippers. “It’s just different now is all.” You breath hitched when he pressed a soft kiss against your jaw, your hands finally definitively resting on his broad shoulders. “You’re calling me stuff other than pipsqueak and trying to get in my pants.” 

Caleb let out a dark chuckle, his face resting against your neck as he pressed soft kisses against the skin there that left you breathless and aching. “Is it working?” Another painfully sweet nibble against sensitive flesh that made you squirm. Now that hand that was at your hip was sliding up to squeeze your waist, kneading the tense muscles of your side. 

You nodded, it definitely was working. 

Caleb hummed, low and satisfied. His eyes were so dark they nearly looked black. “Wonder what would feel better? My hand or that toy of yours.” Another nip against your skin, right above your pulse. 

Your breath hitched, his arms had you caged in against the kitchen cabinets and all you could do was pout up at him with a rosy face. “Is this more of your teasing?” You weren’t in the mood for new games, and Caleb loved to play. 

He pressed himself forward and you realized at once that Caleb wasn't playing, there hard against your stomach was all the proof you needed. You slid a hand down from his shoulder, nearly in disbelief when it brushed against the front of his boxers. The length of him twitched below your fingers and you moved to withdraw your touch but Caleb’s hand shot out to grip your wrist. “Curious aren’t ya?” His face was colored pink, up to the tips of his ears, eyes heavy lidded in an expression you had never seen before. “Ya don’t have to be curious about everything.” 

Caleb released your wrist, stepping back to run a hand through his hair. He glanced away, seemingly thinking for a moment before turning back to you. “Think I’m done playing games now.” And suddenly he was using his evol to pull you forward into his arms, strong and securely wrapped around your waist to lift you up. 

“Caleb!” You squirmed in his hold but he just squeezed tighter, hands warm against the back of your bare thighs. You couldn’t deny the way he always made you feel helpless, it didn’t matter how many wanderers you took down all own your own, in Caleb’s arms it was pointless to struggle. 

If you didn’t love him so much you might have had the sense to be afraid. 

He carried you to your bedroom, lips pulled into a signature smirk. “Don’t tell me you aren’t going to accept responsibility for your actions now that things are getting serious.” Your back fell against the mattress, Caleb’s hands were already sliding down your thighs tugging the waistband of your shorts. You reached out to stop him, trying to make sense of everything when your mind was so hazy.

Were you embarrassed or aroused? 

It was all mixing together, making your heart pound against your rib cage until it felt like the beat of the drum. Caleb tilted his head curiously, breath warm against your neck as your hand closed around his wrist. “Aren’t there lines you don’t cross?” You asked breathlessly, eyes wide. 

Caleb chuckled, the sound made your swimming mind suddenly hyper focused on him propped up with a strong arm above you. “Aren’t lines meant to be crossed and rules made to be broken?” He pressed a kiss against the exposed skin of your collar and you nearly shivered. 

Why did everything only ever feel right when he was touching you?

You released your grip on his wrist, relaxing into the mattress. Caleb made sense, him touching you made sense. Even as he dragged your shorts down over your hips, until all you had left were the flimsy damp cotton of your panties and the rumpled oversized fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Caleb leaned back with a dark grin, canines sparkling in dim warm light made his smile seem more like the toothy maw of a wolf than the face of your best friend. 

He wanted to eat you alive.

Lips on yours, harsh and aggressive. Teeth sinking into the soft delicate skin of your lower lip until you were moaning against him. Your hands came up to tug on his hair but he just used his evol to pin them back on the bed on either side of your head. “C’mon sweet girl, only I get to touch.” 

You couldn’t help the whiny noise that slipped past kiss swollen lips. He wasn't being fair and he loved to use his evol against you. “I thought rules were meant to be broken?” You taunted back, not missing the way Caleb’s eyes crinkled in the corners. 

He pressed another kiss against your lips, this one softer, the kind that made you so weak in the knees that if you hadn’t been laying down you might have collapsed. “Mhmm…I think rules are fine if I’m the one makin’ them, haven’t you learned that by now?” Caleb’s fingers teased the edge of your underwear waistband, slipping past the elastic to press a teasing caress against the heated flesh of your sensitive clit. 

You sucked in a sharp inhale of air. His calloused finger pad rolling tight circles until you felt the warm drip of your drooling cunt against the bottom of your ass. You were fucking leaking in your panties like you were in heat. Begging for more than just the little touches Caleb was giving you. 

You met his gaze, trained on you like it always was, ears pink and lips parted to let the soft breaths of air, he was huffing out, brush against your cheek. “Caleb please…more.” 

Caleb hummed, tilting his head like he didn’t know what you possibly meant. “More? More what baby?” He knew exactly what you wanted more of but he loved seeing you admit the one thing he craved more than anything. 

That you needed him. 

And Caleb was always willing to let you struggle for it, maybe that was half the enjoyment for him aside from seeing your cute face scrunch up the way it was now. 

You moaned again when the calloused pad of his finger brushed up your hood in a way that made your thighs clench together. Caleb pushed your thighs apart, one hand on your left knee and the other still barely touching you under your panties. “Please…Touch me more.” You whined out, back arching up. 

Caleb withdrew his touch, but his evol kept you pinned down to the bed. “I dunno…You gonna admit that you still need me?” Your brows furrowed, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you met his self satisfied expression with a needy glare. 

You huffed, eager to knock him down a peg. “You’re such a dummy Caleb.” Still, you felt desperate for more. With your lips pressed into a pout you reluctantly gave him what he wanted. “I…I need you Caleb. Please will you really touch me now?” 

That smirk he had faded into something more akin to affection and then your panties were being dragged off. “Yeah? You need me that badly huh?” Caleb was tugging off his shirt, thick arms suddenly free for you to ogle and washboard abs catching the light just right enough to make your breath hitch despite having seen him shirtless countless times. 

Caleb released his evol from your wrists if only to drag you back against his chest after he sat and leaned against the headboard. You didn’t mind the change in position, your back pressed snuggly against his warm pecs. His fingers crept up your shirt to play with your breasts his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Okay pretty girl, okay. I’ll take care of you just like how I always do.” 

One hand kneading your chest, the other between your folds toying at your entrance while his thumb rubbed lazily against your clit. You rolled your hips against his touch, nails digging into the muscled flesh of his strong thighs. A cacophony of pleasured mewls spilling from your lips while Caleb licked and sucked bruises against your neck. He hummed, deep and low, when his mouth unlatched from the hickey on your pulse.

They were going to be hard to explain at work when your vacation finally ended. 

“Look at you pretty baby, all needy for me. Makes it feel like we’re the only people in the world.” He sighed against your bruised flesh, fingers hooking up to finally push into your sopping cunt. Your head fell back against his shoulder at the sensation of him pushing two thick knuckles inside you, eyes barely staying open just to watch the muscles flex in his arms as he curled his fingers against that spongy part of your pussy that made you see stars. 

“Don’t tease Caleb.” You mumbled out in-between breathy moans. He just pressed a kiss against your shoulder and curled his fingers deeper. 

Caleb scissored his fingers, stretching your pussy before curling back upwards to hit your sweet spot, thumb still rubbing on your clit without ever breaking pace. 

Fuck…he must have done this before if he was so damn good at it. 

You were already so close, barely fifteen minutes in and your thighs were trembling, slick soaking the bed sheets beneath the two of you. He kept you caged against him, teeth nipping at the lobe of your ear as he whispered filthy praise just for you. “That’s it pretty girl.” His cock throbbed against your back and you could feel the wet spot growing on his boxers. “Fuck your pussy keeps sucking my fingers in…Don’t tell me you get this way for that toy of yours?” You shook your head and Caleb laughed, his other hand pinching a nipple between his index finger and thumb. “C’mon baby, can’t you say it?” He was teasing you again, but it all felt so much worse when his fingers were buried inside you and you were wet enough to fill an aquarium. “Tell me how much better I am than that pink rabbit otherwise I’m not gonna let you cum princess. And wouldn’t that be a real shame?” 

You thought you might cry at the thought, but Caleb seemed all too eager to punish as he was to reward and you knew better than to test his patience when you were just so close to the release you needed. Your hips rolled in short needy bursts, lips parting open to let out that soft sweet sound Caleb loved so much, you were going to set aside your pride for once if only for a moment of utter bliss you were sure Caleb would bring you to. “It’s better! Ah…hng! Fuck you’re so much better.” 

Caleb seemed satisfied at that, his touch on your clit speeding until that knot low in your gut was about to unravel. “You oughta throw the thing away, I want to be the only one who sees you like this, the only one who makes you cum.” You moaned out an unintelligible word but it just turned into Caleb’s name, over and over, just like the way he kept bullying your over sensitive cunt. “You wanna cum pretty girl?” Your nails were biting into the skin of his arm where you gripped the flexing muscles as his fingers worked you over. 

“Please, please Caleb!” You could feel him smiling against your neck, fingers prodding over and over at your sweet spot until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Good girl, go ahead and soak my fingers. Cum for me baby.” He sounded breathless, eyes glazed and trained on your fluttering cunt, watching the way your folds parted lewdly just for his fingers. The way your unabashed need made them glisten in the low light. 

Eyes rolled back and mouth parted open in a cry that certainly disturbed your neighbors, your orgasm had your thighs clenching together until Caleb used his evol to pin your legs down. His fingers still working you through it with squelches that were loud enough to contest the sound of your fucked out moans. 

You were trembling against him, chest heaving as you finally came down from your high. Blinking up to see him already looking down at you, eyes soft violet even under the warm lamplight. “Wasn't that just the prettiest sight.” He mumbled out, lips curled in that satisfied grin he had when he offered sour candy he knew you would deny so he could hog the whole bag to himself. You were still panting, eyes bleary as you looked up at him while he withdrew his fingers from your clutching cunt. 

He peppered kisses against your cheek before bringing a finger to his lips to suck the slick clean, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a soft moan. “Geez you’re sweet as hell even down there aren’t ya?” Another kiss against your flushing neck and then his other finger still slick with you was being pressed against your lips. “C’mon sweet tooth, try it.” His tone didn’t have much room for argument so you parted your lips obediently to suck his fingers clean. You didn’t mind it, it’s not like you haven’t had dirty thoughts of him making you gag around his knuckles before. But still, the taste of yourself on his digits was new.

His cock twitched insistently against your lower back and you realized he still hasn't let you touch him. You wanted to make him feel as good as you did.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and you took the opportunity to turn in the bed to face him, bringing your hands up to his flushed cheeks to press eager kisses against his mouth. "I wanna touch you Caleb...Please."

He stared at you for a moment, his pupils blown to near black, before ruffling your hair playfully. "Nah not yet baby, M'not done with you." You were baffled, what did he mean by not done with you?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by sudden weightlessness, the bed pressing against your back and Caleb above you. "Caleb! Quit using your evol to toss me around!"

He chuckled, kissing your neck, stopping at the collar of your rumpled sleep shirt and yanked it off using his gravity manipulation. Suddenly you felt bare, nipples pebbling in the cool air as Caleb kissed across the skin of your breasts. "Thats funny, when you were a kid you loved when I picked you up like that." A nip at your nipple made your breath hitch. "Wanted me to keep taking you higher." He pressed a kiss at your sternum. "And higher." Another kiss but lower, against the warm pulse on your stomach. "And higher." He nipped at the pudge below your navel. You whined but he shushed you and propped your thighs over his broad muscular shoulders. "Until you went to outer space."

He was kissing a new place entirely, one that was leaving you breathless. "C-Caleb!"

He hummed but the sound reverberated against your mound, making you forget why you were protesting in the first place. He sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive plump bud. Your folds were swollen, still soaked with slick from your first orgasm, and you could already feel another one creeping up.

Your hands reached to dig into Caleb's hair but he used his evol to pin your wrists to the bed without even looking up. Strong arms flexed as his hands kept your thighs pried apart.

At least he was playing into your fantasies.

He pulled away from your clit to lap between puffy folds, moaning at the taste. You were already putty in his hands, thighs trembling, eyes so glazed, and lips parted to let out breathy moans.

Caleb was as talented in life as he was in dreams. You should have suspected as such, he was good at everything he did.

His mouth latched onto your clit again, tongue lashing against the bud until that knot tightened. He pushed two fingers in, curving them up as his mouth worked you over the final push.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Back arching as you came undone against his face, his fingers pumping in a steady rhythm as he lapped at your clit with the broad flat of his tongue.

It was all too much.

Your vision came back slowly, white fading back into color as Caleb pushed himself up, chin glistening with the juices from your release.

He looked debauched, like a stranger, and then he gave you that reassuring smile that made your pounding heart stop for a moment.

He was still your Caleb even after all of this.

He pressed a kiss against your stomach, glancing up at your face before releasing his evol. "You okay? Ya look a little...breathless up there." He was teasing you after giving you the best orgasm of your life.

Classic Caleb.

You rolled your eyes at his antics but nodded, stretching slowly as you regained sensation in your buzzing limbs. "Mhmm...What about you?"

You still haven't touched him yet much to your dismay.

He tilted his head curiously, eyes dark in the dim lighting. "Don't worry about me baby, there's time for all that later." He kissed your forehead, pressing another just above your brow. "Gotta make sure you have another reason to come visit me in Skyhaven next time."

He rolled onto his side, pulling you against his chest so that he was spooning you. You could feel the press of his tented boxers against your ass but you didn't comment on it.

He could torture himself all he wanted, he was your pink rabbit for the night after all.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

[hrrtshape]

GIRL, NEW YEARS??????? Omg if you're staying for a minute, SPILL THE DR TEA

i shifted for a quarter of a year.....does the cia want to know my location??

it’s soooooo over for you all. i have seen the light (coryo). i have tasted the forbidden fruit (no..not coryo). i have held hands with fate and made out with destiny in a dark corner of a new york rooftop bar (coryo!!!!).

hi. so. i shifted. with this method.

and listen, the universe is a freak. it’ll knock the wind out of you, throw you down the stairs, steal your wallet, and then, while you’re still gasping for air, go, ‘oh, my bad. here’s a gift card. also, you can shift now.’ so. hi. i’m back. i lived in my better cr for three months. an entire fiscal quarter. and now i’m here again, blinking in the fluorescent light of this reality, trying to form sentences like a war vet just back from the frontlines.

what do i even say? where do i begin? i guess the first day. let’s set the scene: september 20th. autumn in new york. cinematic. LET'S GOOOO.

i shifted back. cried. obviously. cried some more. then locked in (queen never crumbles) and promptly lost my entire mind on the balcony. squealing, jumping, doing the full carrie bradshaw excited little twirl in paris before she got fucked over the russian short guy. if my neighbours were watching, they were getting a show.

i got dressed for school. threw on something casually devastating. drank matcha on the way as i picked up lily-rose. business as usual, except i was vibrating at a higher frequency than ever before. every nerve ending in my body was singing. i was so happy.

then. okay. i know i said i got with coryo. and i did. (everyone say: ‘she won.’) but. not yet. patience. restraint. delayed gratification. all that. i saw him that first day, and did i think about jumping him? yes. did i? no. but he winked at me.like the absolute menace he is. imagine me, gripping my books like a regency heroine whose gloved hand was just brushed by a suitor. i nearly blacked out. then it was onto the usual: maths, english, lunch, philosophy, p.e. (where i spent the full hour contemplating coryo in gym clothes. blessings upon this timeline), history.

post-school, me, lily-rose, and malina (@chaaistained you made a cameo, my ride-or-die) went shopping on fifth ave because of course we did. the girls were girl-ing. capitalism was capitalism-ing. i know you’re nodding. i know you get it. we all get it. then home. girl dinner. filmed some deeply unserious tiktoks. stalked coryo’s instagram (two days apart and i was already checking for potential threats. he had none. heh). chatted with my car, caesar. absolute king. i was, in a word, thriving.

and now i know what you’re thinking. ‘emma. you were there for three months. why didn’t you stay longer?’ and lovies, i hear you. i do. but last time shifting ate me alive and spat me out, so we’re doing things differently now. a little here, a little there. back and forth, like a woman with multiple lovers in different countries. balance. we're ed recovering this stuff.

oh ! also. minor detail but i started an anonymous page in the shifting community over there. what’s it about?????? well. let’s just say i’ve been documenting.

more soon. xoxo. gotta organise these rogue thoughts first

[rezwrites]

If it is okay, can I request Agatha x innocent reader + corruption kink?

Agatha wants to be Reader's everything, she has opted for the slow way and tries to be patient but when she discovers that Reader has not yet had her first kiss, Agatha can't help but spring into action. Agatha teaches her how to kiss (a tongue kiss) and then more

Plsss

Agatha and corruption, hell yes.

Warnings: MDNI+18, dubcon, gaslighting, coercion, legal age gap, fem-bodied reader, reader wears a dress, fingering(r!receiving) nicknames(dear, honey, baby, babydoll, princess)

taglist: @harknessshi

The doorbell sounded at Agatha’s front door, with an accompanied rap of soft knocks. Agatha swiftly opened the door revealing you, bearing a huge smile on your face holding a pyrex dish in your hands, “Hi, Agatha! I brought cookies.”

“Hiya, dear. That’s very sweet of you.” Agatha stepped aside, letting you in her home. The two of you met through your mom, Agatha being your mother’s friend from spin class. The two of you started an unlikely friendship after bonding over a movie franchise. Due to your mother being out of the house so much you mostly spent your spare time at Agatha’s. She would help you with your schoolwork when she could, and you’d offer to help her with anything in return, however Agatha would always insisted that you didn’t have to do anything.

Offering Agatha the container, you slipped your shoes off by the door. Opening the air-tight lid Agatha picked up a cookie, taking a bite. She let a low groan out as soon as the sweetness of the cookie hit her tongue. “So how are your classes? Oh, how is it going with that girl you like?”

“Classes are good. Things are going well, but it’s getting to a point where she wants to start being.. intimate.” You sat down on the plush gray couch, moving the pillow out of your way.

“Well, that’s good isn’t it?” Agatha sat next to you, setting the cookies down on the coffee table.

“Yes, but I’ve..,” you trailed off clamming up, shoving a cookie in your mouth. Tears began to well up in your eyes.

“Honey?” Noticing your demeanor, a frown appeared on Agatha’s face. She took your hands, placing them in her lap, “you know you can tell me.”

“I don’t know how to kiss, or do anything of that nature, so I’ve been avoiding it,” The tears started spilling as you shied away from Agatha, “It’s embarrassing.”

“Oh, honey.” Guiding you into her lap Agatha held you until you calmed down, periodically sniffling. Agatha’s mind was sent into overdrive upon hearing this revelation of yours. She figured you never had sex before, but now knowing you never even had a kiss elated her. Leaning back Agatha wiped away any stray tears, “I can show you, so you have a little experience. Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Your eyes widened, breath stuttering as you looked at her. Opening and closing your mouth you struggled to find an answer, heart pounding in your chest. It was such an out of place invitation. Yes, you wanted experience but with Agatha? She’s your mother’s friend, but she was also your friend. You could trust her, right?

Once you gave a soft nod Agatha’s smooth hands cupped your face, her eyes flickering between your lips and eyes watching your reactions, “If it gets too much, tell me.”

You gave a weak whimper in agreement, closing your eyes. Agatha slowly moved in closer, allowing you time to change your mind. Her nerves are jumping with excitement to be your first kiss. Dejection hit her like a truck when you told her about your crush on your classmate a few months ago, however she persevered trying to sow tiny seeds of doubt about your crush. Now that she has you like this, she refuses to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. The overwhelming urge to be your first pushed her forwards, soft lips melting into yours.

Due to her close proximity her light perfume invaded your senses, the heat of her body radiating around you. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you placed them on her jean covered thighs for stability. Slowly, you fell into a steady rhythm. Her tongue lightly tapped at your lips asking for entrance, startling you.

Agatha kept her hands on your face, keeping you from going too far, “It’s alright. You’re fine, honey.” Relaxing, you slightly parted your lips allowing her tongue to slowly wriggle its way into your mouth. It was strange having her warm, wet muscle rub against yours, but not unpleasant.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” Agatha pulled back, swiping her thumb across your bottom lip. Agatha enjoyed watching the dazed look on your face as you processed everything, “It was nice, right?”

A slight nod was all you could muster. You looked so small avoiding her gaze. She watched you shift, thighs flexing and rubbing each other. Oh, this was too perfect. She held back a sinister smile. Even if you didn’t know it, you were practically offering yourself to her on a silver platter.

“Would you like me to help you with that, too?” Agatha whispered, gesturing to your fidgeting.

You prominently shook your head, pulling your dress skirt down to your knees. The kiss was enough as is. It was nice, but anything more would be wrong. Shame bubbled up in your chest, desperate for a way out.

“It’s natural for your body to react like this. It’s not wrong, or weird.” Agatha’s hand fell on yours, fingertips grazing the skin of your inner thigh.

“Sweetie, I wouldn’t want you going into this kind of situation freaking out. Girls don’t like inexperience,” Her voice full of concern matched with a pout, “You don’t want to push your crush away do you?”

“No.” Your eyes widened in fear of that possibility. More thankful now that Agatha is willing to show you, but you still have doubts, “What if I don’t like it?”

“That’s why we need to find out. Would it make you feel better if you saw how I’m touching you? It might not be so scary then.” Before you are able to get an answer out, Agatha picked you up from your spot on the couch carrying you to the back of her house.

Crossing into her bedroom Agatha placed you in front of her full-body mirror. “Go ahead and take your clothes off, sweetie.” Agatha ordered, striding over to her nightstand.

Releasing a shaky breath you pulled your dress over your head, keeping it close to your body. Watching Agatha approach with a bottle of lube in her hand, a pit began to sink in your stomach. Setting the bottle down, she helped you unhook your bra. Tossing your clothes onto her bed she admired you in the mirror, releasing a low gasp, “Babydoll, you’re so beautiful. Your crush will be so lucky.”

Not lucky enough to be your first though, she thought.

Pulling her sleeves past her elbows Agatha sat on the floor with her legs spread, patting the spot in front of her. The softness of her purple sweater met your back as you settled down. Lithe digits slipped under your chin, tilting your head towards her, lips meeting again. Finger pads gingerly danced across your shoulders, traveling down your arms, and across your chest. A soft moan fell from your lips once they ghosted the top of your breasts. Agatha fully fondled you, pinching your nipples. Opening your mouth to squeak, Agatha took advantage to push her tongue into your mouth, swallowing any noises.

One hand continued twisting your nipple, while the other trailed down your torso. Once Agatha’s mouth left yours you sucked in as much air as possible. Her nose dragged along your neck, before attaching her mouth to your throat, sucking hard.

Agatha stared intently at the mirror taking in every dulcet sound, and movement you made. Her hand stopped on your lower stomach just above your panty-line, azure eyes fixated on the growing wet patch over your cunt.

Releasing you neck with a quiet pop, Agatha spoke in a honeyed voice, “You got this wet from kissing, and some touching? It must’ve felt good, hm?” The tips of her digits ghosted over your the seems on your panties, teasingly, “Let me take these off, babydoll.” Lifting your hips Agatha’s thumbs looped into the sides, dragging the material down your legs.

Once your panties were off you kept your legs shut, shyness getting the better of you. Agatha’s hands crept to your inner knees as her body leaned closer to you. Her breath fanned over your earlobe, “Don’t hide from me, princess. We’re already this far. It’d be a shame if we stopped now.”

Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, allowing her to part your legs. Her hands fell to your hips, drawing circles for a moment. The bottle cap snapped open, hearing her squirt some lube on her hand, “Watch me, baby. Take note of what feels good.” Eyes fluttered open, gazing at Agatha’s hand creeping closer to your core. The cool liquid spread over your pussy, between your folds, slickening them.

Her fingers ran up your lightly circling your bud. Sucking in a sharp gasp, you grasped the hand that was resting on your hip. Agatha halted her movements, “Calm down. It’s just your clit, it’s very sensitive whenever you’re aroused.”

Mumbling a “felt good,” Agatha hummed in acknowledgment, resuming patterns on your hip; helping to relax you. Feeling your body slump back against her chest she continued exploring your pussy, noting each hitch of breath or facial twitch. She’s sure you can feel her heart pound in her chest, excitement seeping down to her own core. How she wished she had her strap on, the perfect position to watch your pussy split around her cock, but her fingers will have to do for now.

She rubs the entrance to your cunt before easing a slender finger in, your hole tightly gripping her finger. You shut your eyes, squirming at the new sensation, odd and uncomfortable. Quickly you slammed your legs, trapping her hand. “Come on, princess, open up for me,” Agatha urged.

You shook your head frantically, a low cry erupting from your chest. She watched the tears prickle your eyes, despite them being clenched shut. “Baby,” Agatha sighed, with a hint of disappointment, “you need to relax, or it will hurt worse.” She slid her finger out cupping her hands behind your knees, placing your legs on top of hers. Her thighs prevented you from closing your legs, from hiding yourself from her. Beginning to weep, tears fell down your face, landing on your chest. Agatha shushed you, “No, princess, there’s no need to cry.” She kissed your tears away, licking the saltiness from her bottom lip, fingers returning to your entrance, “Deep breath.”

Not waiting she sunk her pointer finger in halfway, before adding a second digit. Groaning at the stretch and slight burn, more tears slid down your cheeks. Placing her other hand on your chest, Agatha assures, “I know it feels weird for the first time. It’ll feel good soon, I promise.”

Her fingertips grazed over a textured spot, causing your hips to jerk backwards. Agatha’s hand on your chest stilled you, “Shh, princess, it’s okay. Just keep breathing.”

Overjoyed she found that spongy wall, Agatha swore to bully that spot until you’re crying through your orgasm. She wants you to see that your little infatuation won’t be able to give you this kind of pleasure mixed with pain. That’s even if you continue seeing that girl after this encounter.

You forced yourself to release a long slow breath, accompanied with a shiver down your spine. Her fingers plunged back into that same spot, expelling a squeal from you. The end of each deep thrust was coupled with a curl of her fingers, working in tandem of her thumb circling your clit. The coil in your lower stomach tightening.

The pleasure built up too fast for your mind to comprehend. Attempting to pull away and close your legs, Agatha spread her thighs wider. A hard slap rang in your ears as the pain in your breast radiated. Agatha’s tone turned to stone, ”Stop squirming. Don’t make me have to hold you down.” You froze in fear, knowing Agatha is the type of woman to always follow through. Noticing this, her voice immediately softened, “I don’t want to have to do that, princess.” She used the back of her hand to soothe the stinging pain.

Her thrusts started up again, pace switching from slow to fast every few minutes, keeping you on edge. Breaths became ragged and short, hands flying to her thighs; unintentionally pushing yourself back against her chest. “Good fucking girl,” Agatha grunted, picking up her pace, heavily focused on that sweet spot of yours. Overwhelmed with pleasure, tears streaked down your face. Unrestrained moans resounded from you as your legs shook, coil breaking. Agatha watched you fall apart in her arms, pride swelling knowing that that no one could ever top this.

She removed her fingers, slowly rubbing your clit as you came down from your high. Once your breathing evened out she helped you stand up on your shaky legs. Guiding you to the conjoining bathroom she stopped you in front of the sink, retrieve something from the closet. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you spotted all the tear tracks that ran down your face, how disheveled you looked. Agatha dropped a small cloth in the sink, running water over it.

“It was really good, but a lot.” You spoke up, voice hoarse. Agatha thought you were the cutest thing looking up at her with big, wet eyes and a little pout.

Agatha sported a small pout of her own, hands cupping your face, “I know. I got carried away. I’m sorry, princess.”

Wringing the washcloth out, Agatha gently ran it over your face; the warmth making you feel a little cleaner than you were before. Agatha didn’t bother cleaning between your legs. She wanted you to go home feeling your stickiness the whole way.

Agatha had a light smile when the washcloth was pulled away from your face, “You did very well for me though. I’m so proud of you.” As she planted a soft, slow kiss on your lips, warmth grew in your chest. A whine of displeasure followed when she stepped away, leaving a chilled space around you. She came back with your clothes in hand, helping you redress; pressing butterfly kisses to your face.

“It’s gotten late, sweetie. You should get home before your mother does.” She states, walking you to the door. A steady hand stayed pressed to your lower back as you put your shoes on. Hold the door open for you she planted a quick peck on your lips, before sending you off.

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

His scars

The room is dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. The world outside feels far away, muffled by the late hour. You’re lying beside Simon, your body warm against his, tangled beneath the covers. It’s one of those rare nights when neither of you are in a rush—no missions, no early alarms, just the quiet hum of each other’s presence.

Your head rests against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arm is draped lazily around your waist, holding you close, but there’s a relaxed ease in his grip. He’s not wearing a shirt, and your fingers trace absentmindedly along his skin, following the contours of his body. Your fingertips find the rough ridges of a scar, then another.

You hesitate for a second, feeling the jagged texture beneath your touch. Some of them are old, faded into pale lines against his skin, while others are more recent, harsher reminders of the life he leads. Your fingers ghost over one across his ribs, then move higher, tracing the rough edge of another along his shoulder.

Simon doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t flinch or pull away. He just lies there, silent, letting you explore him in a way few ever have. His breathing stays steady, but there’s something heavier in the air now, an unspoken understanding.

“This one…” you murmur, your fingertips brushing over a long scar that runs along his bicep. “Where did it come from?”

There’s a pause. A long one. You don’t push- Simon doesn’t always talk about these things, and you’ve learned to let him choose when and how much he wants to share.

After a moment, he exhales slowly. “Knife wound,” he says, his voice quiet, low. “Close combat. He got me first, but I got him worse.”

You nod slightly, not asking for more, just letting the weight of his words settle. Your fingers trail lower, following another scar along his side, thinner but deeper-looking.

“This one?” you ask softly.

Simon shifts slightly beneath you, adjusting his arm behind his head. “Shrapnel,” he answers simply. “IED went off too close. Lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Your heart clenches slightly, imagining the pain, the danger, the constant risk he’s lived with. But you don’t let the sadness show. You just keep tracing, memorizing every piece of him, every mark that tells a story.

Then, your fingers find one at his lower abdomen, near his hip. It’s smaller, but deep. You pause, glancing up at him. “And this one?”

Simon huffs a quiet laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “That one’s stupid,” he admits. “Got careless on a mission. Took a bullet, but it went clean through.” He shifts, looking down at you. “Nothing serious.”

You look up at him then, meeting his gaze. His eyes are unreadable, but there’s something softer beneath the surface, something unspoken. You know he’s seen and endured more than he’ll ever say. And yet, here he is, letting you see parts of him that no one else does.

Your fingers brush over one last scar - a faint, thin one just above his heart. It’s old, faded, but something about it feels different. You don’t ask. You just rest your palm against it, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your hand.

Simon watches you for a moment, then reaches up, placing his much larger hand over yours. His fingers curl around yours, holding your hand against his chest.

“Don’t need you worrying about them,” he murmurs.

“I don’t,” you whisper back. “I just want to know you.”

There’s silence again, but this time, it’s comfortable. His grip on your hand tightens slightly before he pulls you closer, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

“You already do,” he says quietly.

And that’s enough.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Rebirth

Requested By: @space-dragon-ace

Summary: MC dies and is reborn as an angel to be with her lover (Simeon) / MC dies and is reborn as an angel and falls from grace to be with her lover (everyone else). The Seven Demon Brothers x Reader Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon & Solomon x Reader Word Count: 3,642

Lucifer was not one who was known to show emotion so easily. Usually, he kept his feelings locked up tight for no one else to see.

But, seeing his dead lover standing in front of him was as good an excuse as any to slip up on his cold facade.

He was in front of you before you had even seen him, scrutinizing you with a watchful eye as he tried to discern whether you were real or not.

You couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips as you took in his appearance.

He could tell that it was you and that you were real, but he couldn’t figure out how it was possible.

Slowly, you showed him your wings, explaining everything about your rebirth and your fall. 

There was a switch that flipped inside of Lucifer when he saw your wings. First, he was relieved to see that they weren’t angelic anymore.

After all, even if the fall hadn’t changed them into demon wings, being with him certainly would.

Second, his mind was spinning as he thought about how much stronger you must be now that you were a fallen angel.

The idea of you walking through the Devildom and having a presence that demanded respect from others now was enough to set his sin off and take you back to the House of Lamentation.

He wasted no time in bringing you to his bedroom. He had missed you way too much to waste a single second of his time with you.

He couldn’t help but admire your wings once more when the two of you were in his room. 

He thought it was ironic that you had actually fallen from grace considering the amount of times he had spent with you in the bedroom making you “fall from grace.”

This took a whole new literal meaning for him and the idea made a small blush rise to his cheeks as he realized it wouldn’t be the last time you fell from grace for him either.

The first time Mammon saw you again in the Devildom, he immediately rushed over to you and pulled you into a hug.

He knew that you had died and he didn’t know how you were even in front of him right now. 

He didn’t care if you were a ghost, a hallucination, or whatever else you could have been.

He just needed you back in his arms where you belonged, even if it was just for a moment.

He had been miserable without you, down-right depressed, and even if this wasn’t real, he was going to savor every moment of it.

You hugged him back with just as much love, craving his touch as much as he had been craving yours.

After the initial few moments passed and Mammon realized you hadn’t disappeared yet, he pulled back to look at you. 

“How are ya’ here?” he asked you, taking in all of your features as if it was the first time seeing them.

When you explained everything to him about being reborn as an angel and falling to be with him again, he wasn’t sure how to feel. There were too many emotions and not enough time to sort through all of them.

But, the most prominent emotion he felt was love. Love for you and loved by you.

He immediately pulled you into a kiss, the feeling of your lips burning on his own.

When the two of you were in the privacy of his room, Mammon begged you to show him your wings.

If you were a fallen angel, you definitely had them and the curiosity of what they looked like was killing him.

You complied, a bit nervous about what he would think of them. Mammon wasn’t expecting them to look that good on you.

He couldn’t even come up with words, instead turning bright red, as he tried to push any and all intruding thoughts out of his mind.

He was absolutely loving how much of a badass you looked like as a fallen angel.

But, definitely sulked a bit when he realized he couldn’t call you “his human” anymore.

You had to go to the House of Lamentation to see Levi again.

He hadn’t left his room since your death and he wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon.

Everything reminded him of you and it was too painful so he spent his time in solidarity, hoping to distract himself from the pain with the things he loved.

When he heard knocking on the door, he ignored it. When the knocking continued, he promptly told whoever it was to go away. When it still didn’t stop, he opened the door angrily, ready to tell whoever it was off.

But, the last thing he expected was for you to be on the other side of the door and he was completely caught off-guard.

He experienced a rush of emotions as you closed the gap between the two of you, knowing that if you didn’t, the two of you would be stuck in this endless stalemate.

Levi froze as he felt your arms around him - arms he had fantasized about being around him again.

He was sure this wasn’t real, that you would disappear any moment, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the feeling while it lasted.

You pulled away after a moment, and Levi was still in shock.

He stayed quiet as you explained everything and you mistook his silence for disbelief. 

So, you had no choice but to show him your wings to prove that everything you were saying was real.

And, seeing your new wings snapped him out of his trance instantly as he immediately began fangirling over them.

They looked so good on you, and they had such a unique texture. He was a blushing mess as he realized he touched them without asking for permission. 

You thought it was cute, how he was still nervous to touch you despite him touching you countless times before.

He had a million questions for you that you did your best to answer and it’s only after his interrogation that he realized you were really back.

And as he processed that information, he couldn’t be any happier than now with you - his new fallen angel.

Satan took a moment to analyze everything about his current surroundings when he saw you.

You stood in front of him, a bit away, wanting nothing more than to run directly into his arms while he stood there running every possibility through his mind.

He approached you carefully, taking in every piece of evidence he could acquire to prove you weren’t real.

He stood directly in front of you now, able to reach out and touch you. He gently stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, questioning his own senses.

Because you felt real. And you looked real. But he had seen you die.

You already knew what Satan was thinking without him having to say a word and you gently took his hands in yours before telling him, “I’m real.”

Your words gave him all the validation he needed and within a moment, you were pulled into his embrace.

Your head rested against his chest as he held you impossibly close before asking, “But, how?”

You pulled away from the hug to explain everything to Satan and to say he was surprised was an understatement.

You being here certainly made things easier for him. After all, he had been studying re-animation spells since the moment you died, intent on bringing you back to life.

He didn’t even know that it was possible for you to be reborn as an angel. You did have a piece of Lilith inside of you, but would that have been enough?

He was a man of hard facts and proof. So it wasn’t until you were showing him your angel wings, distorted from the fall, that he allowed himself to believe what was happening.

And you were like a whole new muse for him. Not only did he get his lover back, but he was so excited to explore all your new powers with you as an angel.

He never got wings like his other brothers so he didn’t know a whole lot about them on a personal level and now he was getting the chance to inspect them in great detail with you by his side once again.

Asmo is a complete mess the second he sees you again. Crying, hugs, kisses all over. You’ll get the full treatment when you’re back in his arms. 

You already knew how much Asmo loved you. He made it a point to express it to you every day.

But, he’ll want to make sure you know it again when you come back to him. He wants to make sure you can feel it so that you never leave him again.

He was a wreck without you. He was lonely and sad and it was a terrible look for him.

But now that you were back, it felt like the pieces of his heart were slowly healing back together.

Everything felt right in his world when you were in his arms and he planned on never letting go.

But, you needed him to let go, just for a moment. So you could explain what had happened.

He brought you to his bedroom so that the two of you could speak in private and when you told him everything, his eyes lit up with excitement.

His mind was filled with images of how attractive you must look with your new wings and he had to see them.

You agreed to show them to him, knowing it would make him happy and as he took them in, you could see his eyes feeling with lust.

You looked even more attractive than he could ever imagine.

It was a good thing the two of you were in his bedroom already because he wanted to show you how much he loved you and now, he planned on showing you all of the advantages that came with having wings.

Beel loved you and that was a fact that would never change even if your appearance did.

The moment he saw you again, he didn’t see anything else around him.

Your wings were currently out, but he didn’t even notice them, focusing solely on you being in his arms again.

He had been hurting so much since you died and now that you were in front of him, he just needed to feel you in his arms again.

He refused to budge from the hug as he asked you how you were there, so you had to explain everything while your head was pressed against his chest.

He took in all of the information you had said, but he was having a hard time processing it.

You were reborn as an angel? And you fell from the Celestial Realm to be with him?

He finally pulled away from the hug to take in your appearance and that’s when he noticed the wings that were now attached to you.

His big hands reached out to touch them and, despite their size, the touch was gentle. 

You blushed at the contact and Beel realized how intimate what he just did was. 

He didn’t mean to act so brashly, but he couldn’t help it - your wings were beautiful.

He absolutely loved them and it just gave him more of you to love and cherish.

He took in your wings once more, burning the image of them into his mind, before pulling you into his embrace again and placing a loving kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for coming back to me,” he told you, barely above a whisper, feeling like he had just regained his entire world.

You gave him a small smile before leaning up and placing your lips on his in a loving kiss before replying, “Thank you for loving me.”

Beel is not only happy about your new appearance but he’s thankful you have more power to help keep you safe in the Devildom now.

Belphie’s eyes are wide when he finally sees you again after all the time that had passed since you died.

He didn’t know how to react because he didn’t know how much he could trust what he was seeing.

He is immediately filled with love and relief but goes against his instinct to pull you into his embrace, choosing to get answers first.

You told him everything you could and Belphie almost couldn’t believe the words that you were saying.

When you were done with your explanation, you waited patiently for Belphie to speak.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” he replied after some time and you felt deflated. You didn’t know how to make him believe you were real.

“I mean the Y/N I knew could never be nice enough to be reborn as an angel,” he added with a teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

You were now glaring at him from the small insult and that look was all it took for him to know that it was really you.

“I mean you don’t even have wings,” Belphie continued. He loved being a brat and riling you up.

You let out a sigh before showing him your wings and that immediately shut him up as he looked at them with admiration.

A small blush rose to his cheeks as he averted his gaze, trying to hide his attraction to them.

But, you knew him too well and couldn’t help but want your revenge for his earlier comment.

“What’s the matter, Belphie? You don’t think they’re attractive do you?” you asked innocently and his blush only deepened.

The two of you often got into these battles, refusing to back down and this time was no different. 

If it was a fight to make each other more flustered, he wanted to win just as much as you and it didn’t take him more than a moment to escalate things by pulling you into a kiss.

You might have some extra power and new wings now that you were a fallen angel, but your and Belphie’s relationship would always be the same no matter how you changed.

Barbatos hadn’t given Diavolo any indication as to what was going on when he asked him to come to the main foyer.

But, of all the things, he did not expect to see his lover who had recently died standing there before him.

Diavolo was overwhelmed by what he was feeling when he saw you there, wanting nothing more than to go to you.

He looked to his friend and butler, silently asking for confirmation that you were really there.

Barbatos nodded his head and in an instant, Diavolo was standing in front of you, gently cupping your cheek as his golden eyes looked into yours.

“Have you really come back to me?” he asked, searching your eyes for any sign of this being fake despite Barbatos confirming it was real.

You placed one of your hands over his own before nodding your head and explaining how you were standing there before him.

Diavolo was confused as to how you were reborn as an angel, but he focused on the second part of your story.

You fell from grace - for him. And that detail made him fall in love with you all over again.

You pulled away from his touch for a moment to show him your wings and Diavolo’s eyes darkened as he looked at them.

Not only were you an angel - but you were a fallen angel and there was something incredibly alluring about that. There was something that felt wrongfully right about that. Especially to the future King of the Devildom.

Diavolo wasted no time in inviting you to his bedroom, wanting to finally feel your touch again. 

Not to mention the fact that he wanted to test out your new strength as a fallen angel.

Barbatos was the one who sought you out instead of the other way around. 

But, with his powers, what else could be expected?

You had died before and he was able to bring you back, but something was different this time. He couldn’t bring you back like before and it was like driving a knife through his heart.

He didn’t give up hope though. He promised himself he would find a way to revive you. To bring you back to him.

And, while he was searching he happened to catch a glimpse of you. It should have been impossible because you were dead - right?

He looked further into it and that’s when he saw everything from you being reborn to everything that led up to you falling to come back to him.

And he met you right at the spot you fell at. You were disoriented and in pain, but as you slowly came to, you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around you.

When your vision cleared, you saw none other than Barbatos holding you, a small smirk resting on his face as he asked, “What have you gotten yourself into this time, darling?”

And that pet name was enough to send a shiver down your spine as you looked into his green eyes that were shining with excitement. 

They trailed down your face before flickering over to your wings - wings that had been manipulated from ones of light to ones of darkness because of the fall.

And he found a twisted gratification in the idea of you “falling from grace”. But, who could blame him? He was a demon and you were his lover.

He immediately took you back to the Demon Lord’s Castle and spent the rest of the night with you. 

He had spent far too much time away from you and he had a lot to make up for.

Simeon had returned to the Celestial Realm after his time in the Devildom, but something was fundamentally different about him ever since he lost you.

He didn’t smile as much and the look in his eyes was noticeably duller because he had lost the love of his life.

Simeon was the first to find out that you were being reborn as an angel and the news had shaken him to his core.

He didn’t know what the proper response was to finding out your lover was not only coming back to life but being reborn as an angel.

He demanded he be there when you woke up from the deep slumber you had previously been in.

And he watched over your body as you slept, praying that it would work. Praying that you would come back to him.

When you slowly fluttered your eyes open, Simeon had to hold back his tears as he immediately pulled you into his arms, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

He took in everything about you and you let out a small chuckle at how tightly he was holding onto you.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against you, his lips brushing against your neck and sending a shiver down your spine.

He pulled back to look into your eyes and couldn’t help the smile that formed across his lips.

You stretched your wings out, wanting to see your new appearance and you took them in before looking at Simeon.

A small blush tinted your cheeks as you saw him staring at your wings with a kind of intensity that was far too intimate for any setting but the bedroom.

“How do they look?” you asked him and he brought his eyes to meet yours, feeling the pain that he had been feeling steadily washing away.

He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb before stating, “You’re beautiful.”

Solomon had been searching high and low for the most powerful grimoires in the world, trying to find any way to bring you back to life.

And he wasn’t going to stop until he found a way to have you back in his arms.

But, he never would have dreamed that you would come back to him all on your own.

It didn’t matter if you were a fallen angel or if you still had your grace. Solomon loved you either way.

You could have come back in any form and he would love you, as long as you were you.

If you stayed in your true angel form, Solomon can’t help but think you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

The passion wouldn’t change in your relationship and he had to admit there was something taboo and sinful about being intimate with you as an angel.

But that made things all the more exciting, especially because he knew how powerful you were now.

If you had fallen from grace to return to the Devildom, Solomon would still think you were just as beautiful.

But instead of an innocent beauty, it was one that demanded everyone’s attention. 

You looked badass and the dark and slightly twisted look of your angelic appearance was enough to drive him mad with attraction.

As an angel, he would know you had newfound power, but as a fallen angel, there’s an even more intimidating presence that came with that power.

Solomon was used to being the most powerful being in the room, but with you being reborn, your power felt like it matched, if not overpowered, his own and that idea was exhilarating.

Whether you were a fallen angel or not, Solomon would waste no time in being with you.

Regardless of your status of grace, you were his lover and he felt like it had been too long since he had been able to remind you of that fact.

[rafayelxsylusho]

LADS men and their kink$.

Xavier🌟

Hair pulling: He loves it when you take charge, especially when his face is buried in between your pretty thighs, he thinks there is nothing better than feeling your fingers tangling, tugging, holding him in place as he eats your pussy The slight sting of pain as you grip tighter, urging him closer, demanding more.. and when he is buried deep inside you, he wants your nails digging into his scalp as he takes you hard and fast.

Face fucking: He loves seeing your pretty lips stretched wide around his cock to take him in, the softness of them against his shaft, taking him so deep and feeling your throat swallow around him, fighting to take him deeper even as he fucks into your face. Seeing tears spring to your eyes, your makeup running down your face as he fuck your throat raw. Knowing he reduced you to a sloppy, desperate mess.

He likes hearing the obscene sounds of his cock pounding your throat, the slick, sloppy noises of you choking on his dick, t's the headiest fucking turn-on.

Cockwarming: Feeling your soft, pliant body mold around his hard, aching length, It's like your pussy is welcoming him home, embracing him, enveloping him in the most exquisite way possible. He loves the way your walls flutter and clench around him, like they never want to let him go, like they're trying to keep him deep inside you. He likes this especially when he just needs to feel you, if he is exhausted after training he just wants you sitting on his lap, cock buried deep inside while he savours the feeling.

Cunnilingus: We all know he is a thighs man, he loves the feeling of your thighs trembling against his ears, hearing your breathy cries and needy whimpers echoing off the walls as he devours your pussy like a starving man at a feast. He takes pride in reducing you to a writhing, mewling mess, in knowing that he is the one driving you to the brink of ecstasy with just his mouth and tongue. But most of all, he loves worshipping you like this. Showing you with every lap of his tongue, every press of his lips, every suckle and nibble, just how much he fucking adores you. His deep blue eyes never leave your face.

Zayne🥼

Orgasm denial: This man will give you the world if you ask him to but ooohh how he loves knowing that he has the power to unravel you, to push you to the very brink of madness with pleasure, and yet hold you back, keep you teetering on that edge. He feels there's a certain thrill in pushing you to your limits, in watching your body tremble and your face contort as you beg so sweetly for release. He likes knowing that he is the one in control, the one dictating your pleasure, that with a word, a touch, he can either grant you the explosive climax you crave or deny you and leave you aching, wanting, needing. After all it's like he says "Patience is a virtue"

Bondage: Its the rush of knowing that he can do anything he wants to your body and you can only lie there and take it. Bondage is about trust and he loves knowing that you entrust yourself completely to his care, his guidance, his mercy, even as he pushes your boundaries, even as he takes you to the very limits of your endurance, you still have faith in him, faith that he would never truly hurt you, that he will always keep you safe, sated and utterly, completely satisfied. And he also likes to see your wrists and ankles bound, the delicate skin flushed and slightly chafed from the friction of the rope or satin ties.

Dry humping: Dry humping you in that damn rocking chair. It's the perfect combination of intimacy and tease. Having you straddled across his lap, your soft, pliant body pressed against his. The rocking chair provides the ideal rhythm, the constant, sensual undulation of bodies grinding together, building a delicious friction and pressure that sets your nerves alight. The way your cunt grinds against his cock, the damp heat of your arousal seeping through to soak his pants, marking him and letting him feel how fucking desperate you are.

Temp play: The contrast of heat and cold, he likes the way it makes your skin flush and your nerves sing, your body both yearning for and recoiling from the sensation. Watching your nipples harden and your skin prickle, seeing your body's instinctive reaction to the temperature shift is a fucking erotic spectacle to him. He loves the way the heat makes your cunt drip and your juices flow, your body preparing itself, readying itself for the pleasure to come and the way the coolness makes you clench and flutter, your greedy hole aching to be stretched and filled and stuffed full. The contrast is like a drug, a high like no other.

Caleb🪐

Uniforms: He likes the way the uniform looks on him, the way it showcases the power and the strength of his body, the way it screams that he is a man of action, a man who can protect you, cherish you, and fuck you in equal measure. The uniform represents a part of his life, a duty, a responsibility and the thrill of defiling it, of marking it with your touch, your scent, your juices drives him crazy. Besides he knows you like the way his uniform looks when it's slightly askew, his hair tousled, his shirt unbuttoned, as he pins you against the wall and fucks you hard, fast and deep.

Spit: Maybe it's the depravity of it, the absolute filth, the way it marks you as his, desperate for any taste of him, no matter how degrading. He loves watching you open your pretty mouth, your lips part and your tongue flick out to catch the first drop of his saliva, it drives him fucking crazy to know that you're so fucking eager, so hungry, that you'll take whatever he gives you, no matter what it is. Once he feels your throat under his thumb, swallowing, he is done for.

Overstimulation: He knows that even as you beg for a break, for a moment to breathe, you still crave more. Knows that your body is so hungry for it, greedy for every touch, every kiss, every thrust. He gets a rush knowing that he can take you to the edge of oblivion and back again, as many times as he wants, that he is the one dragging you kicking and screaming into a world of ecstasy you never even knew existed.

Brat taming: He hates it when you get all defiant and bratty, but he loves seeing you go from mouthy and defiant to a begging, cock-drunk mess in his arms. He loves every second of taming your fiery spirit, of breaking you down and building you back up exactly how he wants you. Every time it's like a red flag waved in front of a bull, a fucking challenge he can't resist taking up.

Rafayel 🐡

Choking: He gets hard the moment he sees your eyes roll back, your cheeks flushed, your mouth open and your tongue lolling out, it's like watching a piece of art come to life, a masterpiece painted in the colors of desperation and need. He loves feeling your pulse jump and race beneath his fingers, knowing that he is the one making your heart pound, making your lungs burn, making your world narrow down to the simple, primal sensation of his hands around your throat.

Semi public: He likes playing with fire after all, that's why he loves the thrill of it, the adrenaline that races through his veins when he has you pinned against a wall, or bent over a desk, knowing that anyone could walk by and see him claiming you, fucking you, ruining you in broad fucking daylight. He knows that no matter where you are, no matter who might see you, all you can focus on is the feeling of his cock splitting you open and claiming you.

Eye contact: Looking into your eyes while he is buried inside you, while he is claiming you, ruining you, wrecking you it's the most intimate and the most erotic work of art he could ever create

He needs to see your face when you come undone. He needs to watch the way your eyes glaze over with pleasure, the way they flutter shut and then fly open wide as you cum. He needs to witness the way your pupils dilate with each thrust, each push, each drag of his cock along your walls. And the way you look at him when you're coming, the way your eyes go blank, the way you just stare at him like he's the only thing that matters, the only thing that exists in that moment.

Wax play: He loves seeing the way the hot, molten wax paints your skin, watching it drip and slide over every dip and curve of your body, it's like an artist watching his masterpiece come to life, and the way it feels, the way it coats your body like a second skin, trapping your heat, your desire, your desperation. He likes to know that he's the one shaping it, the one molding it, the one creating something beautiful and erotic and completely for his pleasure.

Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Size: He is big in every sense of the word, he likes to see how small your hand is compared to his, how his much larger hand wraps around your slender throat, feeling your pulse race beneath his fingers as he squeezes, it's like holding your life in his hands, owning your very existence. He loves the way his cock splits your little mouth open, stretching your jaw wide, forcing you to take every inch of his thick, hard length. Seeing you gag and choke on his size, feeling your throat convulse around him as you struggle to take it all.

Body worship: He likes to map every single inch of your body with his hands, his lips, his tongue, he wants to learn it by heart, to know it better than he knows his own name. He want to worship at the altar of your flesh, to offer up every single sinful, delicious prayer he can think of to the goddess that is your body. This man could spend hours, days, fucking years just exploring your body with his hands, with his mouth, with every inch of his being.

Dirty talk: He loves to watch your eyes widen, see your cheeks blush, hear your breath hitch, knowing that he can reduce you to a needy, desperate, wanton mess with just his words alone turns him on. This man tells you exactly what he is going to do to your body. He wants you to hear every filthy, depraved, utterly fucking obscene thing that crosses his mind as he imagines all the ways he is going to claim you.

Breeding: he wants to fuck you full of his cum, he wants to pump you so full that you're dripping with it, that it's leaking out of you, that you're drenched in the proof of how thoroughly he bred you, but even better is the idea of pushing it all back inside with his fingers. And just the thought of putting a baby in you, of watching your body change and grow and blossom with new life is enough to drive him insane.

ALL 5 OF THEM 🐦‍⬛🐡🪐🥼🌟

Marking: He loves the red imprints of his fingers on your hips, ass and thighs, teeth marks littering the lush curves of your tits and neck, it's like a brand, a tattoo of his ownership etched into your flesh. He wants the world to look at you and know that your body belongs to him.

[revelboo]

Give me more first aid content and my life is yours!!! I'm gonna EAT ur writing I love it so much

Sure!

Hum Along Pt 2

First Aid x Reader

• “Here we go. Nice soft things,” he croons, cradling you to his chassis as he fixes a little nest of rags and eases you down in it, waiting to see if you try to bolt. Satisfied when you just stare up at him with wide eyes, he turns to retrieve a scanner and hears your little feet running. And spots you ducking up under a counter, trailing a rag after you. Going down on a knee, he leans to see that you’ve wedged yourself into a corner, shivering. There’s not that deep a space under there, he can easily reach you, but he sits with his back to the counter instead. “Hey, I get it. You don’t know me. I must be pretty scary, huh?”

• Shaking as the monster stares at you before turning and sitting nearby, you can hear him talking. At least, you think that awful noise is probably language. Wrapping the blanket around yourself to fend off the chill, you listen to him jabber away and try to calm down. To take stock. Because you have no idea where you are or what he is. How you got here. Can’t understand the language. The only thing you do know? He’s not hurt you, yet. Fingers fisting in the blanket, you blow out a shaky breath.

• Not reacting when you lean out of your hiding spot, he watches you hesitate, head tipped back to stare at him. Before you sit down beside him, mirroring his pose. “Decide maybe you do like me? It’s my charming personality, isn’t it?” Trying to keep his voice soothing, he tries to aim the scanner at you and you tense. Chirping fearfully and leaning away, starting to scoot back into your meager shelter. “It’s just a scanner. See?” Holding out one hand, he makes a show of scanning it as you watch.

• He’s looking at you as light plays over his hand and arm. Tapping the thing in his hand and rumbling at you. And he tries to pass it over you, immediately stopping when you cringe away. Holding up the thing and spouting his alien nonsense at you. Talking at you like you would with a wild animal you’d been forced to interact with. Maybe that’s what you are to him. Slightly feral, but no real threat.

• Setting the scanner down, he nudges it your way and you dart back into your shelter. Only to almost immediately poke your head back out. Curious little thing. Lifting his hands away from the scanner, he watches you ease forward to frown down at it, chirping. “It’s just a medical tool,” he says, his voice startling you into flinching. “I know you don’t trust me, but I’m going to try my hardest to help you. It’s what I do.” And he’s so tired of failing, of watching sparks gutter out right in front of him. Knows Pharma and Ambulon are both numb to that horror, have been here longer, but it still hurts him every time. To be helpless to save the ones begging for help. To be too late. Always just a klik too late.

Previous

[hscherrywine]

Tired Teasing

Summary: A relaxing night with Harry takes a naughty turn. Some more cute fluffy smut. Harry is a tease and you’re tired.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: none really just some smut, female receiving

Ever since you and your boyfriend, Harry, decided to become serious, Sundays have been your favorite day of the week. The two of you have the day off almost every week and always make the most of it.

The day itself was great - being able to be lazy with Harry and watch some movies. But now it was night and the two of you were getting ready for bed. You took a shower and got cozy in your fresh sheets, excited to read some of your current book read. Harry was somewhere downstairs finishing up some chores he’d promise to do.

If you could capture a feeling, it would be this one. So content with life that nothing could bring you down. Plus part of your nighttime routine tonight was an everything shower because you just needed some “me time”. You felt so relaxed and comforted by your bed.

You lay peacefully on your side, book in hand, curled up under the covers. You were waiting for Harry to come up to bed. Before you knew it, you heard his footsteps padding up the stairs. Within minutes he wandered into your room. You put your book down so transfixed by his being. He walked into your sight line since you were still lying on your side. You watched in awe as he changed from his everyday clothes into something more comfortable to sleep in.

Without even saying a word to you yet, he found his way to bed. His body dipped behind you and your body ignited. He was quick to wrap himself up in you, hugging your body from behind.

“Did you like the show?” He asks and you know he was aware that you watched him get dressed. Your cheeks flush feeling called out a bit, but you know he can’t see because your back is pressed to his front. You’re glad you're not facing each other because you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You don’t respond to his comment. Partly because you had no shame in watching your hot boyfriend strip and another part because you were too tired to engage him. Harry could sense this or something because he didn’t antagonize you much more, he just snuggled himself deeper into your neck like he couldn’t get close enough. You liked when he was soft and clingy with you.

His hands rubbed up and down your arms as he made small talk with you about your days. You loved being able to unwind with him like this. It was all very casual, him pressing mindless gentle kisses to your exposed skin as you talked. Until, he got a bit more carried away and you could tell that he was looking for a bit more.

“Harry…” you start but only trail off. The half of you that is exhausted just want to go to bed, but the other half always melts at his touch. Which one will win? you still don’t know. He keeps going up and down your neck and shoulders showing his affection until you call out his name again seeming slightly aggravated. He stops briefly, but only to get a few words out.

“You always smell so good..can’t stay away.” He mumbles and you feel his breath on you. That’s how close you two were. He reaches up to move your wet hair away from your shoulders to get closer to the spot he knows you love. “Can’t believe you showered without me baby.” He admits.

His affection tonight was undeniably adorable, so you give in. “I was waiting for you, why do you think it took me so long in there?” you tease. Truth is, you did take a long shower tonight, but not entirely for his sake.

“We’re not good at showering together.” He admits breaking away from you. “We never end up clean after those.” He jokes and you know exactly what he means. Memories come flooding back of times the two of had sex in your marble shower. “We’re not good at a lot of things, Harry, we always end up just having sex or something.” you laugh. It’s funny because it is entirely true. The two of you just can’t resist each other it’s like in your pheromones or something. Even mundane tasks like cleaning, doing the dishes, or folding laundry tempt the two of you. Right now is no different. With every delicate touch from Harry, you were getting less relaxed and more worked up and you were unsure if that was part of his plan or not.

“Look at us right now.” you point out “We can’t even relax in bed without being horny.” you scoff.

“Who said anything about that?” Harry asks playing dumb. Not cute. He doesn’t get to purposely rile you up and then pretend like that wasn’t his intentions.

“I know what you’re doing, Harry, and honestly i’m not sure if I have the energy right now.” You confess to him, still facing away. You know he respects your boundaries and everything but you’re shy to admit it.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want Y/N, but what if I do something for you. You know..just so you don’t over do anything.” He suggests. The idea is very tempting. At this point he was already slotting his leg in between your thighs and slowly moving the two of you so you were facing each other more. When you don’t immediately answer, Harry places a kiss away from your back and neck and on your check instead. The sweet gesture has you turning to face him with a smile. The two of you look at each other for the first time tonight all tangled together.

When you look into his eyes, you give in completely. After mere seconds, you are the one making the moves. You lean in the short distance to kiss your boyfriend in the lips for the first time tonight. The action is desperate in itself and quickly deepens. You hand Harry wrapped up in each other find a rhythm with your lips and body. All you can do is moan into his movements.

His hands trail up your back trying to squeeze you closer into him. Eventually they find their way under the hem of your shirt and up to your bra. Without breaking the kiss, he unclasps it like he has a hundred times before.

Slightly in awe you pull away and notice a guilty smirk on his face for what he just did. It’s one of your favorite things that he does. “I’ll never get tired of you doing that.” you says to him. “And i’ll never get tired of how perfect your body is” He compliments. You don’t always agree with the compliments he showered you with. Sometimes you feel like he says things just to make you happy, but the way he delivers them is impossible to make them insincere.

It’s like he can hear your thoughts going round in your head. “I mean it, baby, every time. Everything about you is so perfect.” He rambles. He goes back to his favorite position with his mouth on yours. This time his hands travel back to your back but they take of your shirt instead. His is quick to come off too.

“I know my girl is tired and it’s been a long week, but I just need to appreciate you a little.” he whispers to you. The energy between you two is heating up so much so he is practically above you at this point. He is taking in your body with his eyes even though the two of you are still under the covers. Harry isn’t a huge fan of that and gently exposes the two of you from your bedding. It is here where he notices that the shirt he removed from you was the only thing you wore to bed.

He is slightly shocked by the discovery. “You had me doubting the mood tonight, but here you were all ready for me.” he scolds. You rarely sleep completely naked so this is a surprise for him. He can’t contain himself now running his hands up and down your thighs. Teasing you with a soft touch. He makes the split decision to move from your upper body to focus on your lower half. He did a lot of teasing already when the two of you were mindlessly chatting. He didn’t think he had that much of an effect on you until he revealed what was under the conversation and it became every apparent.

He slowly worked his way down until he was inches away from your core. He was slow to give you what you wanted, knowing that you were struggling without his conceding. He kissed and sucked in your thighs until he couldn’t contain himself. He gently ran one finger up and down your folds just to gather some arousal. He then sucked his digit clean and leaned back up for a kiss.

“Relax for me. I’m gonna make you feel so good before we go to sleep.” He mutters traveling back down to your heat. This time he gently caresses two digits on your labia but careful not do really pay attention to your clit yet. He was too teasing in his actions that you reached your hands up to play with your own tits while he teased your bottom half.

“Normally I’d be upset with you for touching yourself, but just this once you can because you look so hot tonight” he smiles completely enticed by the way your hold and squeeze your own breasts.

“I wouldn’t have to if you just gave me what I wanted.” you shoot back, tired of his teasing.

“And what is it that you want to bad baby?” He asks looking into your eyes and adding pressure on his fingers.

“Mouth. Fingers. I want it all Harry. I need it.” you whine at him. your hands move from your breasts to to clutch at the sheets beside you.

Before you know it, he’s feverishly answering your prayers. Wasting no time at all he inserted two digits into your wetness. The interruption made you gasp especially since you were so sensitive from Harry’s games earlier.

He wanted to be slow and take your time on you tonight since you needed to relax but he knew that it wouldn’t be possible. He abandoned all his plans and dove right into your cunt. Mouth attached and sucking feverishly on your clit and his fingers worked their way rhythmically in and out. Your release was approaching embarrassingly fast, but you knew you couldn’t give in.

You kept your eyes on him buried between your legs. Every time he does this you swear he gets better. You’ve never met someone who loved giving hess as much as Harry does. He out does himself every time. His fingers worked at a perfect pace moving all around your soft walls. they curled against the spongy area inside of you and encouraged your hole to leak and squelch.

In response he would just lick it up and go back to your clit. You were in heaven when he went down on you. You think he even bit your clit at some point to get you closer but you were too pleasured to even realize.

Listening to Harry’s advice about relaxing, you didn’t clench you body as your orgasm approached. You fought the tightening for your limbs and reached a whole new feeling. This was different than any other orgasm.

Harry could read your body like a book and knew you were about to come. He slowed to an agonizing halt only to receive an aggravated groan from you that he just brushed off. He was trying to work you up even more but quickly threw the bit out. The pleasure was too intense to risk at this point. Harry himself was grinding his hips into the bed to try and keep himself from exploding.

Your breaths became shallow and Harry’s grew intense. Your orgasm is seconds away from hitting you and your boyfriend is giving you everything he has.

“You gonna come for me baby? he asks taking his mouth away for a second. The cool air hits your clit and it’s almost enough to put you over the edge. Instead he takes his hands from inside you and rubs your clit with them until you release onto his hands.

He laps up the rest of the area with his tongue snd kisses your pelvis and thighs for a bit while you come down.

Your eyes are even heavier than before when you come down. The adrenaline wears off and you are left tired. “You want me to help you out now babe?” you offer but you can even get it out without a yawn. “Don’t worry about me.” He remind you “Just get some rest now honey.” he says crawling back up next to you.

He wraps his arms around your stomach after pulling the duvet back up to your necks. Between his hold and the sheets, you were ready to pass out.

So much for that shower, you ended up going to bed dirty after all. But all of it was worth it because Sunday nights with your boyfriend are the highlight of your week.

a/n: i swear i can write other things than my usual cute coupley tropes…i just choose not to rn. Also I wrote this while watching the chiefs lose the superbowl.

[steddieas-shegoes]

slowly, then all at once

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "as he read, i fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once." from the fault in our stars by john green

rated t | 731 words | cw: nightmares | tags: pre-relationship, feelings realization, literal sleeping together, cuddling

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

Steve’s nightmares aren’t a secret. The severity of them, along with the frequency, and how shitty he feels after, those are all secrets. Not even Robin quite knows how bad it gets sometimes.

The summer is worse: the memories of the Russians, the way the pool reflects off his window at night, the humidity clinging to his skin reminding him too much of the way dust and ash and mud clings in the Upside Down.

He feels stupid after spring break, that he should even still have traumatic memories when Eddie almost died. But he does. They’re worse now. He isn’t being tortured, Robin isn’t even in these ones. It’s always Eddie.

Eddie bleeding.

Eddie’s broken body.

Eddie not breathing.

Eddie dying.

It’s weird how quickly he took over Steve’s brain, how he went from being someone Steve barely knew from school to being one of his closest friends. Near-death experiences tended to do that, he supposes.

But it’s almost every night, and he rarely gets more than a couple hours of sleep before they hit, so he’s in a constant state of exhaustion these days. It’s not great for all the volunteering he does, and the usual taking the kids where they need to go, and trying to find a new job, and trying to convince Robin he’s fine. The bags under his eyes and the constant slump of his shoulders says everything.

She worries, but she knows he just has to get over the hump.

They all do.

Eddie stays with him late into the night a lot. It’s like he senses that being alone is the catalyst.

He finds excuses, tries to make it seem like he’s the one who doesn’t wanna be alone. Steve appreciates it, but he’s far past the point of feeling any shame for being afraid of being alone.

He doesn’t turn him away, though. Eddie sticks around for hours most nights, well past the point he should. Sometimes they watch movies, sometimes they just turn music on and sit quietly in the living room. Eddie is always moving a little, fingers tapping, leg jiggling, head bobbing. It’s good, though. It’s nice.

And sometimes he lays down in Steve’s bed with him until he falls asleep. He doesn’t touch him, or really do anything more than just exist in the space while Steve closes his eyes and drifts off. He’s always gone when Steve wakes up.

Tonight, he’s got a book open and Steve’s curled up under his blankets. His bones ache from how tired he is, and he wonders if his body will ever get to the point where exhaustion keeps the nightmares away. Steve’s eyes are closed, but he’s not asleep. Not yet.

Eddie’s voice is soft, accents coming through for some characters, colorful inflections describing the scenery. Steve smiles to himself as his eyes start to feel heavy.

It’s nice to be read to. He doesn’t know which book this is, but it sounds like a dream.

Maybe he’ll dream about this instead of bats circling a body he loves.

Oh.

His eyes open and he looks up at Eddie, who doesn’t stop reading, even when Steve knows he can feel his eyes on him. It’s a beautiful thing, to see Eddie so enraptured in a story that he’s probably read before, to see him still putting the effort into giving Steve a show even though Steve was mostly asleep.

He loves him.

Steve loves Eddie.

Not the way he loves Robin, or the kids. Maybe closer to how he loved Nancy, but even that didn’t feel quite like this.

This feels like a later sunset after a long winter, a fresh breath of air after being stuck in the Upside Down, a glass of cold water in the middle of summer.

It’s refreshing, and waves of calm take over his body.

He settles.

He reaches out, places his arm over Eddie’s stomach, curls his fingers into his shirt. He buries his face into Eddie’s side.

Eddie pauses for a moment, just long enough that Steve worries he shouldn’t have done this. But then one arm covers Steve’s body and he continues, voice softer but no less enthusiastic.

Steve closes his eyes and falls into a deep sleep.

When he wakes, it’s calm. There’s no crying or screaming, no thrashing, no fighting.

Eddie’s there, holding Steve against him.

He loves him.