#feels like we went years without nonsense like this

[wingedhallows]

hey baby girl!! can we get a vi x reader who broke up but really want to get back together and if you'd like, you can make it smut! i love you pretty girl! 💓

˚୨୧⋆｡𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 modern/ex!vi x ex!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 smut MDNI

˚୨୧⋆｡𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hi hi!! so i've had so much fun with this! I'm still new to writing actual smut, i hope it's good. thank you to my bby @moodient for requesting this!! love u

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

five years prior

Seven missed calls. Twenty unread messages.

Your phone lights up like it’s trying to scream at you — like it’s trying to make you feel all the things you’ve been trying to ignore.

You didn’t mean to ignore her. God, you didn’t. It’s just… college is loud. Your classes blur into late nights, and the friends you’ve made — new faces, new habits — they’ve filled up the spaces that used to belong to her.

You tell yourself it’s temporary. That she’ll understand.

But then you see it — the last message she sent.

And it stops you cold.

You’re standing in the middle of your dorm room, one leg halfway out of your jeans, caught in that stupid little in-between moment where everything suddenly shifts.

Your heart stutters. Your throat tightens.

“I think we should break up.”

It’s not even dramatic. No punctuation, no begging, no anger. Just seven words that crack through your ribs and echo somewhere deep inside you.

And just like that — she’s gone.

present. 

“It’ll be fun! Now come on.”

Philippa’s nails dig into your upper arm with zero remorse, her perfectly manicured grip tugging you forward like you’re a wayward child instead of a grown adult. You stumble after her, the too-tight dress cinching at your waist with every reluctant step, and you’re already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

Your eyes flick toward the front doors — and sure enough, those guys are there. The ones who hit on you back in second year, still leaning like they own the place, still wearing that smug, basement-party confidence. You quickly avert your gaze.

A massive banner hangs above the entrance to the gym, proudly declaring “Year of 11” in uneven, mismatched lettering. The edges are frayed, and someone clearly went to war with a hot glue gun and kraft glitter. It’s nostalgic, maybe — but mostly, it just feels sad.

You sigh, long and heavy, and let Philippa pull you deeper into the gym.

The place is decked out in balloons and shimmery streamers, with glittery nonsense taped half-heartedly to the walls. Someone put in effort, sure, but it still reeks of prom night — too sweet, too staged, too familiar.

And suddenly, it hits you like a memory pressed between ribs.

Prom.

Your prom. The one you spent with her.

The decorations are different, but the feeling? That ache in your chest — it hasn’t changed at all.

It’s been a while since Philippa fluttered off to go play social butterfly — weaving through old classmates with her usual glass-in-hand charm — and you’ve had one too many margaritas served without a salted rim to keep pretending you’re having a good time.

The buzz in your head, the ache in your feet, the way the past clings to your skin like glitter — it’s too much.

So you do what you used to do, back in the day. You flee to the girls’ bathroom like it’s a bunker. A safe haven.

Nothing’s changed much in here.

The walls are still painted that uninspired pale yellow, a color that’s tried and failed to be cheerful. One of the mirrors hangs at a crooked angle, just like it always has, warping reflections in that vaguely unsettling way. They’ve replaced the stall doors, though — sleeker now, but the navy blue wood doesn’t match the rest of the space. It stands out, awkward and out of place. Kind of like you.

You’re bracing yourself against one of the sinks, trying to breathe, when her voice slices through the silence.

“I didn’t think you’d show.”

It hits you like ice — sharp and clean, sliding straight down your spine.

Your heart stutters.

You lift your gaze slowly, like the moment might shift if you move too fast. And there she is, reflected in the mirror — fogged slightly at the corners, but unmistakable.

Violet.

She looks different. And somehow exactly the same.

Her hair is still that impossible pink, like spun candy and rebellion. Her eyes — pale blue and unrelenting — lock with yours in the glass like they never stopped looking.

But there’s a new sharpness to her.

A constellation of piercings gleam beneath the bathroom’s dull fluorescent lights. There’s ink now — a tattoo that kisses her cheekbone and curls along her neck. And still, she’s her. Just... more.

Your breath catches.

You turn to face her, slow and deliberate, the chill of the ceramic sink pressing into your back as if to keep you grounded.

“Violet,” you whisper.

Her name tastes like nostalgia and regret.

And she smiles — not wide, not sweet, but real. You hear the quiet hum of satisfaction in her throat.

“God,” she breathes, voice rough with emotion and something almost dangerous, “how I’ve missed hearing you say my name.”

She approaches slowly — like you’re something sacred.

But it’s there. In her eyes. The hunger.

That raw, aching kind of want, the kind that’s been left to fester in silence for too long. It’s not just lust, not just old feelings. It’s you.

“Vi…”

Her name falls from your lips again, barely audible, but it’s enough.

Her hands find your waist, fingers warm and firm through the thin fabric of your dress, and the contact pulls a sigh from deep within you. It’s instinctual — your body remembering hers.

The corner of her mouth curls, slow and sly, as she leans in, breath brushing soft against your ear.

“Did you wear this just for me?”

The way she says it — like a secret, like a promise — makes your breath hitch. A soft sound escapes you, involuntary and aching, and she hums in satisfaction, like that little noise is all the answer she needs.

One hand trails lower, fingers curving to grip you like she remembers every inch — and wants to relearn it all from scratch.

Your hands clutch the edge of the sink, knuckles white.

She guides you, gently but surely turning you to bend forward over the sink, your ass protruding towards her front. Her touch is reverent, possessive, familiar — a contradiction you’ve never been able to escape.

“Such a pretty thing,” she murmurs, one hand anchoring you by the shoulder, the other groping your ass with a strong grip.

She draws the fabric of your dress up with a slowness that speaks volumes — not just lust, but memory. She palms your ass again but this time her hands trails lower. Her middle finger trails slowly over your already damp and clothed pussy.

“Missed you. Missed this,” she breathes, lips ghosting along the shell of your ear, and you can’t help the quiet, broken sound that escapes your throat in response. “Missed this pussy.” She rasps into your ear.

Then without warning she pushes the strip of cloth from your sticky folds and pushes one finger into your heat. A strangled gasp leaves you as your head lowers onto the cold ceramic. “Look at that - so wet for me.” She whispers more to herself than anything else.

“Vi-oh christ-fuck.” You choke out as she sets a brutal pace. The heel of her palm slams against your bum as she fucks her finger into you. Vi doesn’t waste time to sling the other hand between your legs as well. Her thumb comes to draw circles over your clit with a grumble.

“Ah! shit-” You gasp and Vi chuckles behind you, the sound comes out low and husky as she keeps going. “That’s it, baby. Knew you still had it in you.” She mumbles. Her lips connect with the sensitive spot behind your ear as she drills two fingers into your sobbing cunt.

You’re a gasping, whining mess in her arms and slowly but surely you feel the hot white heat coil in your belly. One of your hands comes to grip at her arm with a chokes gasp.

“Vi-oh god-I’m gonna.”

Vi just grins against your neck, her hot breath against your skin making your pulse spike again.

“Then come for me - come on my fingers, baby.” She murmurs like the smug bastard she is and picks up her pace once more. Her fingers drive into your dripping cunt unrelentingly and before you can babble another incoherent thing, the heat snaps.

Vi slaps a hand over your mouth, a raspy laugh tumbling from her lips as your eyes roll back, your muffled cry of pleasure vibrating against her palm.

“Atta girl,” she breathes into your ear, voice low and wrecked and possessive.

When she pulls back, your chest is heaving, your head spinning — and she’s standing there like she just won a war.

You’re panting as she holds you up, your knees shaking as she lets her fingers slip from your pussy.

You catch the flick of her tongue as she licks her fingers clean, slow and deliberate, like you’re dessert and she’s not done savoring you.

Then she leans in, her breath warm against your flushed cheek, lips ghosting the skin like a secret she’s letting you in on.

“You’re still mine, sweetheart.”

[kat-rafe]

Island Bound

Rafe!reader

“Mr. Cameron and mr. Cameron, welcome back.” I greet Ward and Rafe as they sit down for their mid-golf meal at the Country Club. “What can I get going for you today?” I continue my hospitality greeting. 

“Georgia Mae, what a pleasure. How’s your dad?” Ward asks me right off the bat. He and my dad did business together when Ward wanted to expand to Charleston. My dad helped him connect with the right company recruiting workers when Ward realized he was some workers short on the project. 

“Just Georgia, Mr. Cameron.” I say with a big smile lowering my notepad a tad signalling I’m ready for some smalltalk, “Dad is fine, him and Mom are visiting Samuel in New York at the moment.” I finished my sentence. 

This interaction might seem interesting, but despite me working at the Country Club I am technically a Kook. My parents make a lot of money doing God knows what, because all I ever see them do is lounge around the house. But not me. I want to get rich on my own, I’m blessed with a rich background that’ll pay for my college but if I want to land a job after college on my own, I have to have work experience. So I work here at the club where my parents and my brother Samuel are members when they’re home, and the Cameron family who lives across from us also frequent. 

“Lovely Georgia, just lovely.” Ward speaks up before looking at Rafe who looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here. “Well we’re ready to order, aren't we Rafe?” He then asks his son who closes his menu and hands it to me. 

“Could I just have the steak and fries with a caesar salad on the side?” Rafe orders and I scribble it down fast. “And for drinks?” I politely ask him intrigued with his rushed tone and the nonchalance he suddenly has. Rafe and I were never close, me being a year younger than him but he always looked out for me. Then he went to college and came back after he got kicked out for a major misconduct of school rules according to my brother. Since then, he’s been tense and him and Ward aren't without each other during day time.

“Lemonade with ice, please.” He adds to the order, I scribble down and look expectantly to Ward. Ward orders the special without even wanting to hear it and a lemonade as well. 

I jot down Ward’s order and tuck the notepad into my apron, offering one of those sweet, practiced smiles I’ve mastered over the last two summers.

“I’ll get that right in for y’all,” I say, already turning on my heel when Ward’s voice stops me.

“Georgia,” he calls, and I turn back, my smile still in place.

“Yes, Mr. Cameron?”

He leans back in his chair, his tone shifting from casual to something softer, more deliberate. “I was just sayin’ to Rafe the other day — you’re the kind of young woman who makes this place worth stayin’ in.”

I blink, caught off guard.

“You’ve got drive. Manners. Family who matters.” His eyes hold mine for a second before flicking to his son. “And you don’t just sit around living off someone else’s name. That’s rare around here.”

I feel the compliment settle uncomfortably in my chest. I know Ward’s brand of praise — it comes dressed up sweet, but it always hides something underneath.

“Well… thank you. I try to stay busy,” I say carefully with an even more careful smile.

Ward chuckles like I just told the best joke. “Busy is good. Keeps your head clear.” He pauses for a beat, then adds, “You know, Georgia, you and Rafe used to be thick as thieves. What happened to that?”

Rafe shifts beside him, jaw tight. I glance at him, unsure if I’m supposed to answer.

“People change,” Rafe mutters, eyes focused on the table.

Ward ignores the tension and waves a hand, like brushing dust off an expensive coat. “Nonsense. Y’all were just young. But now?” He smiles wider, charm turned all the way up. “You're both older, wiser. And honestly… a pairing like that?” He shakes his head. “It’d be good for you both.”

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

“I’m just sayin’,” Ward continues, voice low and smooth, “if I were Rafe, I wouldn’t waste a second.” He looks at his son again, and something sharp flickers in his gaze. “Not this time.”

There’s a silence. Then, finally, Rafe glances up at me. His voice is quiet, but clear.

“You free Friday night?”

My head goes blank, something I can’t explain. I nod, just barely.

“Good,” Ward says, already satisfied, already moving on. “Y’all enjoy yourselves. First round’s on me.”

I nod one last time, offering a polite “I’ll get this right in,” before turning on my heel and heading toward the kitchen, my white sneakers nearly silent on the polished hardwood of the Club’s terrace.

The second I’m out of earshot, the air around the Camerons’ table shifts.

Rafe leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest, jaw clenched. “Seriously?” he mutters, voice low but hard.

Ward sips his water, unfazed. “What?” he says, feigning innocence, like he hadn’t just cornered his son into asking out the girl across the street.

“You used her,” Rafe says under his breath. “Right in front of her. Like I’m supposed to jump because you say so.”

Ward smiles, slow and polished, like a man who’s never had to raise his voice to get what he wants. “I didn’t make you do anything, son. I just opened a door. You walked through it.”

Rafe shakes his head, fingers drumming restlessly on the table. “You told me dating her would ‘clean the slate.’ That’s what you said. Like she’s a—like she’s a damn PR move.”

“She’s not,” Ward says simply. “She’s smart. She’s respected. She’s good. Which is more than I can say for the people you’ve surrounded yourself with lately.”

Rafe doesn’t respond.

Ward leans in just a little, dropping the charm. “This is your chance, Rafe. People like Georgia don’t come around twice. You either get your act together and show the Island you're still worth betting on... or you keep sulking in my shadow.”

There’s a long pause.

Ward’s face softens—strategically. “ Take her out. Be the kind of man she deserves. And maybe — just maybe — people’ll start forgetting about everything else.”

He settles back in his seat just as Georgia rounds the corner with their drinks on a tray, oblivious to the storm she’s walking back into.

Rafe watches her approach, conflicted written all over his face.

And for the first time, maybe… just maybe, he isn’t sure if this is a setup — or a second chance.

The glasses on the tray clink softly as I make my way back toward their table, threading through the tables and umbrella-covered patio furniture like I’ve done a hundred times before. But I can feel it—that low buzz in my chest. Ward’s words stuck to me like the heat outside. You and Rafe used to be thick as thieves. I hadn’t thought about that in years.

It wasn’t entirely true, of course. We were neighbor-close, Sunday-dinner-close, “his mom brought me back from school when mine forgot” close. But never really close. Not in the way that sticks.

Still, hearing it come from Ward made it sound like fate. Like something I owed the neighborhood. Or him.

I approach the table, and I catch just a flicker of something strange in Rafe’s expression before it disappears behind that blank, too-calm look he’s perfected lately.

But I’m too busy balancing the tray and keeping my smile steady to dwell on it.

“Here we go,” I chirp, setting down Ward’s lemonade first with the kind of flourish I know the club staff trainer would be proud of. “The special, cod fresh off the grill. And for you, Rafe—steak, fries, and your Caesar.”

I place his glass down last, careful not to knock over the salt. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to check in. Holler if you need anything before then.”

I turn to leave, but not too fast. Everything has to be paced just right—sweet, efficient, but never flustered. That’s how you keep your job and your pride when everyone around you already knows your last name.

As I walk away, my mind is already somewhere else. I’m thinking about Friday evening, wondering if Rafe meant it — or if he was just being polite. I’m wondering if I’d even go, if he asked. And why, for some reason, the idea makes me feel something I haven’t felt in a while.

Excited. Nervous. A little… visible.

I duck into the kitchen and exhale as the door swings shut behind me.

Pull it together, Georgia.

They’re just the Camerons. Just your neighbors.

But I know that’s not the whole truth.

Because when Rafe looked at me back there — it didn’t feel neighborly at all.

[dvinefem]

untitled elriel vibes pt. 7

i'm back bitches. az too. the length of these will start to increase as we move forward, i just wanted to get the first few out the way i envisioned them. which means shorter snippets and more impactful endings. that's just how I roll. also i’ll move this over to ao3, i’m just busy. p.s. spicy shit coming soon. god forbid a girl catch a vibe first (jk love u). ~previously on untitled elriel~ read part 6 here.

“Do not think, even for a moment, that I do not ache for you. With every thought, every beat of my treasonous heart — every dream of you that I am unworthy of having..” A reverent, worshipping kiss to her forehead. Her nose. Her lips. "There is no part of me that does not belong to you."

Azriel felt the words tumble out of him, beyond his control. Over five hundred years of steadfast restraint, and this female — this goddess of gentle kindness and quiet strength — had him in ruins.

Unbeknownst to her, Elain had sunk her tender hands into the soil of him.

Not to change him. Not to fix him. No. She’d simply breathed life into him.

He knew he was fucked from the very beginning. But the moment their lips met, he was lost to her completely. He understood then that there would never be anyone else. Not for him, at least. If she wanted to claim him with her light, only to leave him in nothing but shadows — he would let her. Willingly and without hesitation.

In the hours between sleepless nights and weary mornings, he’d often found himself trying to pinpoint when it had happened. When had she weaved herself so deeply into the cracks of his soul? So completely intertwined that he could no longer tell where he ended and she began.

“It should have been you.” She whispered.

He blinked a few times in shock. In wonder. And fuck if he wasn’t self loathing enough to believe it to be true. The very thing he'd been questioning for quite some time now.

Azriel ran a hand through his dark, mess of hair — disheveled by her affections. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Elain… you shouldn’t say such things.”

The spymaster had come to know pain and torture like old friends. But this was agony without the blood and bone and gore.

“Azriel, look at me.”

“I cannot.” He breathed. For he knew that if he dared to open his eyes, the weight of his long-suffering grief would likely spill freely down his cheeks. Like a fucking child.

Mother above.

“Please,” She brought her hands to his face. “Do not hide from me.”

He shook his head.

“You are allowed to feel. You are not ‘unworthy’. You deserve to love and be loved in return.” Something fragile in his heart fractured under the weight of her words.

He mustered every drop of strength in his body toward choking back the discomfort, and finally cracked his eyes open.

“Do not let Lucien, or whatever Rhysand thinks, or the damned Cauldron—“

“You don’t understand, it is not so simple.”

She went quiet then, confusion and sorrow written all over her beautiful face.

“Do you… know what a Blood Duel is?” After all this time, she was certainly owed the truth.

“Sounds preposterous.”

“It is a battle to the death. An Autumn Court tradition. Lucien could invoke it if—"

“That is revolting.” Elain folded her arms over her chest. She worried at her lower lip. “This nonsense... that is Rhysand’s concern?”

“The potential fallout could be... significant. He ordered me to stay away from you. To keep the peace.”

She bristled, and he could have sworn he felt the ground beneath them tremble. He tucked the thought away.

“There will be no fighting over me.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a fight.” He muttered under his breath.

Elain’s wide eyes flickered with amusement. “That is not funny.“ He watched her attempt to school her features into neutrality.

“It wasn’t meant to be. But,” He shrugged, irreverently. “I’m glad to know you’re aware of who the stronger male is.”

“Azriel. You will not kill Lucien. I truly do not think he would demand a duel, regardless.”

“Very well. But if you asked me to…“ Blue siphons shimmered menacingly under the moonlight — a devilish sort of grin tugged at his lips as his wings spread wide. The kind of grin that said, I could.

She snorted, and then tilted her head back just slightly. Searching for patience. “Stop that.”

He sighed. “As you wish.”

Silence fell upon them for some time after that. Staring at each other, at the stars — thinking, breathing.

“So,” Elain began, cool and pensive. “Rhys threatened you. And you obeyed.” A forced laugh fell from her lips — fragile and breathless. “For months you pretended I was nothing to you. Because of the High Lord and his political motives.”

Fucking hell.

“He thinks he can discuss and dictate my life without my knowledge, when so much has already been taken from me?” She shot him a pointed glare. “…You, too.”

“I never meant to— I’m sorry.” Azriel realized then, that even though Rhys had given the order, he’d had just as much of a hand in stripping her of free will as his brother did. Deciding for her. And the thought of it horrified him. “I convinced myself I had no choice. I am so sorry, Elain.”

“There is always a choice.” She whispered into the darkness, taking his ruined hand in hers.

And then he tracked it. The slight furrow of her brow. Her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes glazed over — looking glassy and far away.

“Elain.” He caught her chin in his hand. Searching for something, anything in her now vacant gaze.

Shadows swarmed him. Writhing and coiling and shrieking in his ears. A primal instinct inside of him screamed the kind of warning that came too late to matter. Her petite frame went limp and the world seemed to shatter. In one swift motion, Azriel lifted her into his arms.

It was as though she’d taken too far a glimpse into that other realm.

[yuurivoice]

Saw a goofball post about ASMR Roleplay, romantic plots, narratives, etc. and so on.

Let me share some of my philosophy with you as someone in this game for 7 years, 150k subs on YouTube, and who turned this into a lucrative business for himself. I say all that not to flex, but to assure you that maybe I know a little bit about what I'm talking about.

Audio Roleplays, ASMR Roleplay, etc and so forth is not some sort of rigid, strict thing. If you believe that content in this niche has to adhere to strict rules, structure, and expectations, you've already entered into this with strange expectations because there is such a vast array of ways you can go about presenting this content.

Some of it is slice of life moments in time with an assumed relationships between character and listener. Before narrative audios started to pick up steam, or rather, a handful of folks (myself included) developed followings centered on original characters and stories, the vast majority of creators in this space were just doing snippets of experiences. And, in case you were unaware, that approach is wildly successful. Boyfriend Experiences, audio smut, etc. has a much wider appeal at this time because a listener can drop right in and enjoy it.

If you have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that every audio has to adhere to strict narrative rules, be defined by conflict, or things happening beyond whatever the vibe calls for, you're willfully putting yourself and the niche in a box. Which is fine, but seeing people piss and moan about it is strange.

My approach has been to blend narrative series along with one-shots. One-shots serve as super self indulgent audios that aren't tied to the narrative and allow listeners to engage with some of their favorite characters they fell in love with in the narrative without furthering the plot.

Sometimes I play the game, explore tropes and clichés that are popular for the sake of taking a crack at it. Because it brings in new listeners who then become fans of my narrative work and creates genuine supporters of my passion projects.

And ya know? It fucking works. It works really well. I can drop a very straightforward, stripped down comfort audio with Alphonse like I did today and move listeners to tears. And then we can continue on with BitterSweet when I'm good and ready. It keeps the channel running, keeps the audience engaged, and keeps me working.

The bigger point here is that creators should be able to approach their work as they see fit, without concerns about goofballs with strange expectations and standards dictating to them what is and is not valid. You wanna know what's valid? Creating shit that you like, that the people who support you like. However you achieve that is all good in my book.

Having some goofy ass superiority complex about how people play pretend with pretty voices is strange behavior. I'm proud that my community has never flung that kind of nonsense around, and I'm speaking on it to affirm that kind of stance for the folks who rock with me.

If you're a listener who has recently stumbled into this niche, I implore you to explore, listen to others, find what you like and enjoy it because you enjoy it. There are countless people making audio content these days and there's no wrong way to do it, never has been. There's something for everyone, and if someone tries to tell you otherwise, be wary.

I'm not about negative nonsense, not about tribalism or putting down one person over another. Lift up your faves and share why you appreciate them and their style. But petulant bickering and shitting on others because of something as trivial as audio content? Nahhhh. If I catch anyone spouting nonsense like that in my name, I try and snuff it out as fast as possible because that's not how my shit is built.

If you are someone who fucks with me and my work but has had some opinions like that, I implore you to chill because none of this has ever been that serious. I want people to enjoy what they want to enjoy because for the love of fuck, life is too short to try and grandstand over this silly little niche. Or please get all the way away from me and my people.

Deuces. ✌️

[solace-seekers]

screaming into the void <3

[pha55ed]

Nonsense Christmas || F1/F2

type :: smut!

tw/cw :: smut!, hot women in minimal clothing!!!, sexual jokes,

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, max, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: you get offered to do a photoshoot for christmas which is awesome! but the drivers then find out it's a lingerie shoot and lose their minds

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

yourusername : so excited to announce my collab with savage x fenty! this design is so cute and perfect for girlys to surprise their bfs (or gfs) in! which is what im doing rn! hi carlos 👋😊

→ user 01: OH MY GAWWWD??? JAW ON THE FLOOR

⎯→ user 02: Carlos gotta be able to fight or else imma snatch her away

→ carlossainz55: you look lovely! (answer the phone now)

⎯→ yourusername: thank you!! (no, im scared

→ user 03: her face card is so lethal

→ user 04: she's this generations it girl omfg

The second you answered his calls, Carlos was hyperventilating. It was like you could practically hear how feral he was going after seeing your photoshoot. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him going crazy. Your surprise went perfectly!

"I'm coming home now," He says sternly, "Unlock all the doors, I'm running in."

"Well that doesn't sound very safe." You say, trying to joke with him. Thank god he couldn't see you in person or else he would see how wide you were grinning at his words.

"Oh shut up, wait for me on the bed" He says as he hangs up.

You did your job and now all you had to do was wait- Oh my fucking god he's at the door already. You can't even say anything before he's all up on you, getting ready to berate you for looking too good for the world's eyes.

"I missed you" He mumbles as he kisses your neck eagerly. His hands roaming down to your ass, giving it a squeeze which makes you laugh. But he's not smiling at all. You knew what was gonna happen and you didn't care.

Charles Leclerc | 16

yourusername : the victoria secret winter showcase was such a blast! loved seeing all my girls again and esp all you guys! i wouldn't be here without you <3 happy holidays to all

→ user 01: MOTHER IS BACK!!!!

⎯→ user 02: Literally the best walk in the whole show

→ charles_leclerc: i will go to war for you

⎯→ user 03: she awoken his primal instincts

→ user 04: will we see you again??? u were SLAYINGGG

⎯→ yourusername: duh! see you next year <3

→ user 04: she's beautiful, humble, and with a rich boyfriend? when is it my turn

The second you got off stage, Charles was doing his absolute best to compose himself. Seeing you still in your lingerie set, cute little hat and gloves made him pants feel so tight. You kept wanting to say goodbye to all the girls, thanking the staff, being your usual self. This is the one time Charles was wishing you would keep your mouth shut and rush home.

Once you both were out, he rushed you into the car. But not the passenger seat, instead he pushed you into the back seats. He quickly followed you, unbuckling his belt and staring at your body.

"Charles!" You say, shocked at how desperate this man was. "We can't! People are gonna see-"

"And?" He says as he rips his belt off and begins to unbutton his shirt. "My windows are tinted, amor, no one will see."

He's hands are quick, instantly getting your clothes off too. Once he saw the same white lacy set you were wearing earlier, he can't help but grin like crazy. He was worshipping the ground you walked on. Practically licking your footsteps.

"I'm so so lucky," He groans, his hands caresses your body with such care. "So so lucky."

Lando Norris | 04

yourusername : skim's winter collection is out!!! And I'm part of it! So happy to show off these sets to the world ❤️

→ user 01: body is TEAAAA

⎯→ user 02: the body of my dream fr fr

→ landonorris: but when i wear ur bras I'm a slut???

⎯→ yourusername: u got no boobs to deserve a bra

⎯→ landonorris: so ur calling me skinnyyyyyyy?

→ user 03: slayed so hard that dinosaurs r extinct

⎯→ yourusername: don't blame me for that :(

→ user 04: can't believe lando is just... joking around... do u think this is a fucking game? you think this is funny? i will steal your girl and propose and start a family of 5.

⎯→ landonorris: trust me, we're gonna be a family of 5 once i'm home

And he wasn't joking about that comment because you two have been at it for almost an hour at this point. He was flipping you from position to position just to make sure he got every single angle of you in this lingerie set. Doggy, missionary, cowgirl, all sorts of positions that even Sabrina Carpenter hasn't tried.

He already cummed once too, but he was so horny that he was instantly recharged. Thankfully he was sane enough to help clean you up before pounding you once again. But that was the only break you had. You couldn't help but just feel bad for your neighbors for having to hear you two go wild.

But Lando isn't a monster! He knows that it can hurt after going for so long. So while your whining, begging him to slow down or give you a break for minute, he simply just reaches for the bedside drawer. He whips out a fat tube of lube and squirts some onto his dick before quickly getting back to work.

"L-Love you," He mumbles as he keeps thrusting in and out "Love you so much, ahh"

Oscar Piastri | 81

yourusername: let my inner princess out for Victoria Secret's Santa Baby collection! every piece is so precious, just like all the crew members and girls 💋

→ user 01: literally a goddess

⎯→ user 02: blessed by aphrodite herself

⎯→ user 03: she IS aphrodite

⎯→ yourusername: don't curse me girl 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

→ user 04: ur such a ball of sunshine UGHHHH

→ user 05: i pray this doesn't get on my bf's feed

→ user 06: can oscar fight?

⎯→ oscarpiastri: no but i can dox you

You know "Jealous" by Nick Jonas? That's exactly how he's feeling right now. Seeing everyone admire not just your body but how lovely your energy is was making him want to burn the entire building down. He was so supportive of your being a model, how could he gate keep your beauty from the world?

But now, oh god he hates this. He rushes you both home after the shoot and instantly lays you on the bed. His mind is racing yet he's not saying much to you.

"Oscar?" You ask him, looking up at him from the bed. Which instantly makes his dick throb, something you see through his pants. Even just saying his name might drive him to the edge.

"If I cover you in hickies, you can't work anymore, right?" He says, taking off your top and rushing to unbutton your jeans.

"Don't do that," You say trying to sound stern but you did love the idea. "You know I have another shoot soon!"

"You have foundation," He says as he begins to kiss down your neck and pressing harsh circles on your clit "You'll live." He says as he pushes your panties to the side. Your breathing hitches, knowing how good he was with his fingers.

"Unless," He pulls his hands away and looks down at you. "you really don't want to?"

But he knows you want it, he just wanted to hear you say it. To know you were as needy for him that he was for you.

Max Verstappen | 01

yourusername: i WOULD be freezing cold but thank god for the skims fleece bodysuits!! happy holidays to all! may ur pussys be warm and used ⛷️

→ user 01: (Y/N)?!?!?!1 THE CAPTION

⎯→ user 02: i need to know if kim's reaction to this 😭

→ user 03: literally like a barbie doll

→ user 04: looked at myself and sighed

⎯→ yourusername: stalked ur page and found ur facebook, GIRL u go to stanford, have a nice ass house, AND A LETHAL ASS FACECARDDDD hush ur mouth, ur lovely

⎯→ user 04: omg thank you??!?!?!?!! 😭😭

⎯→ user 05: she's the ultimate girls-girls

→ user 06: if max doesn't comment soon i'mma assume she's free for me

→ maxverstappen1: sorry i was drooling, im only commenting to scare user 06 away

⎯→ user 06: im gonna hex you.

You fully unlocked mad max at these photos. Although the shoot was simple and not even super suggestive: he was fuming and needed to get it out. He was joking in the comments, but he’s already jacked off once to the photos.

And once he gets home, it’s over for you. You’re pinned against the wall, his lips going all over your body. Not an inch of you is left unkissed.

“Unbelievable” he said as he sneaks a hand behind your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair. He tugs you downwards, you already know that that means.

Instantly you’re on your knees, looking up at him as if you had no idea why he was so angry. That just made him even more angry. Which may or may not have been your intention.

He unbuckled his pants quickly, throwing the belt to the side and letting his pants fall down to his knees. Your hands already know to do and pull his boxers down. And you’re instantly hit with the sight of his hard cock, a veiny and thick one.

You’ve seen it many times before, but you always can’t help but stare in awe of how something that size of a wrist is fitting inside you.

“Don’t just stare at it.” He tugs your face directly into his dick, smushing your face against it. “Get to work.”

Oliver Bearman | 87

yourusername: so so so happy to modeling the newest set for my bestie's brand! i'm wearing... nothing... 😉 the real sets come out in a week! stay tuned MWAH

→ user 01: my whole face is PINK omg

⎯→ user 02: my tip is RED

⎯→ user 03: oh...

⎯→ user 02: i'm a girl, dw

→ user 03: ... start an onlyfans... please.... please please please

→ user 04: oh my godddddd, i dropped the keys to my 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO, oh I'm so clumsy! (I'm 6'0 too) (and pretty funny)

⎯→ olliebearman: and i drive for ferrari, at 6'1, whilst cracking jokes

Ollie knows his worth, he knows he's a highly sought after man. But he's never felt more insecure than now, reading your comments filled with not just men but also girls?! He had to fight off both sides, which made him feel even more weary that his girlfriend is so desired.

So the only way for him to stop his insecurities was easy! Just fuck it out of his system, duh! So now, you're stuck bent over in doggy style in the shower. Why the shower? Because he knew he would make an absolute mess out of you.

He's pounding into you, making loud slaps against the walls. It echos throughout the entire bathroom. You're sure your neighbors can hear but there's not much you can do. You're stuck being a moaning mess while he's holding onto your hips for dear life.

As if that wasn't enough, he leaned forward to whisper into your ear. "Never, never again..." He says, breathing heavy from being so tired, yet his body was moving on his own. "No one can see you like this, ever."

Paul Aron | 17

yourusername: "angel?" set is out now! so proud to be part of the process for this🪽 i did, indeed, feel like an angel

→ user 01: mind you this is my first impression of you... and i'm following asap

⎯→ user 02: i was prepared to fight u for a second

→ user 03: LAWWDDD??? I COULD TAKE A BITE OUTTA UR ASS

⎯→ user 04: enough ass to feed a whole family of 5

→ user 05: paul... count your days

⎯→ paularon_: what did i do???

⎯→ user 06: u better worship the ground she walks on

⎯→ paularon_: of course i do, that's my whole purpose

→ user 07: perfect body, gorgeous face, hot ass boyfriend, GOD HAS FAVORITES

Oh he's livid. Not because you did the shoot, how could he blame you for simply looking good? He knew he picked a baddie and was ready to take all the repercussions alongside it. But he was livid because the fans were practically drooling over you. He's a possessive guy, it's basically his middle name.

He won't get off you at all, as if he needs you like air. His comment wasn’t a lie, he was worshipping you just like he should. Leaving hickies all over your neck, sucking on your breast, fingering you until you cummed at least twice. And he's not even done.

It's like he's trying his best to tease himself for as long as possible. You see how huge his dick is, how it's practically drowning in it's own precum. But he refuses to fuck you until he knows you're satisfied.

He's mainly doing this because he knows he's going to cum fast. Just from giving you pleasure makes him want to cum already. Being inside would only make him last one thrust, maybe two if he's lucky.

You're tired, fucked out from his fingers and sore from his hickies. But he simply kisses your cheek before bringing his head down to your cunt.

"N-No," you say, so overstimulated and wanting to see him get pleasure too. "Paul, just... Just f-fuck me already"

"Shhh" He says, not giving a single care for what you have to say. As he licks your cunt. You shiver from the touch, already knowing you're going to stuck in that bed for hours.

Pepe Marti | 21

yourusername: was i cold? 😣 yeah, but it was so worth it! loved working with the crew to take these breath-taking shots, i've never felt prettier 💌

→ user 01: oh. my. GOD??????? THE BODY

⎯→ user 02: seeing her without a 10lbs hoodie hiding her is so weird but SO GOOD

⎯→ user 03: literally thought this was an entirely different girl

→ user 03: i'm putting u in my heart locket

⎯→ user 04: literally going to print this out onto my wall

→ user 05: pepe is so so SO FUCKING lucky

→ pepemartiofficial: my beautiful girl 😘

Although you were much more shy and reserved than others, seeing you do this shoot made him feel so proud of you. Every photo was stared at by him for hours, just loving every detail that makes you you. He can’t help but feel so lucky to have such a beautiful girl but see your confidence grow.

So now he’s fucking you gently, dick pushing against your stomach from how long he is. His head is in your neck while his hands are holding yours. Each thrust is slow and patient, making you feel each centimeter of him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans into your neck. “So so, proud” he barely mumbles that. Feeling the strong urge to cum.

Although fucking with him was gentle this time, you still came. He always made sure you were placed first. So now he’s basically just overstimulating you, going at an agonizing slow pace to just fuck with you.

“T-Than’ you.” You say to him, wanting to grab his hair or back. But you can’t, since you’re pinned down by his own hands that are interlocked with yours.

“Gonna cum,” he groans again into your neck also pathetically “Inside?” He begs “That’s okay right??”

[joelscurls]

stranded

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.6k

summary: your shitty boyfriend dumps you on the side of the road after a fight. joel miller finds you.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, no outbreak, explicit smut, oral (f receiving) (joel miller is a munch and u cannot convince me otherwise), slight angst, reader has a shitty/abusive (ex) bf (only briefly mentioned), allusions to piv sex, i think that's it? lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: this is my entry for the summer lovin' writing challenge put together by the incredible @pedgito, @amanitacowboy, and @chaotic-mystery (ily all so much), based on the above moodboard with the location hiking (i went for hitchhiking) and the quote "i'm your only hope". i haven't written in what feels like years & am admittedly rusty, but alas! it was so much fun to get back into writing with a little challenge. dividers by @/saradika-graphics. this was minimally edited; all mistakes are my own.

His red pickup truck had been the first car you'd seen in hours. Rain pouring down, drenching your t-shirt and streaking mascara along the apples of your cheeks, it'd been like a beacon through the fog. 

You’d asked to borrow his cell phone to call a friend. Don't have one, he’d drawled. Got a landline at my place, but the whole county’s without power.

And though you knew nothing about the man in the driver's seat -- not his name nor his history with the law -- you'd still gotten in when he'd pushed open the passenger-side door. After all, you had little other choice.

It was either that, or risk freezing to death on the side of the road where your boyfriend had deserted you.  Ex boyfriend, now. That asshole had taken everything from you: your phone, your keys, your dignity -- and left you for dead. So really, how much worse could this admittedly handsome stranger be?

Just a bit, it turns out. 

Okay, so he's giving you a lift. Back to his place to wait out the storm and call a friend on his landline once the power returns. And he's not hurling nonsensical accusations at you with hands curled tightly around the steering wheel. No declarations of, "My buddy swears he saw you dancing with another guy. Why would he lie about that?"

Still, his silence is beyond off-putting. His brows seem permanently contorted downward, his eyes narrowed on the road ahead as he drives, the highway closer and closer to flooding with every mile that passes. He hasn't asked if you're okay despite the fact that you're holding your ankle in your lap, its incessant throbbing a reminder of when your ex pushed you out of his car earlier. No, he hasn't even offered his name.

You wonder if you're driving to your death.

The first words he speak are muttered under his breath, a quick, "it's just down this road," as pavement turns to gravel. He slows the truck, tires crunching and mud splattering until the trees give way to a tiny wood cabin. The driveway is a long stretch of dirt that winds through an unkempt yard, all tall grass and overgrown shrubs.

It's dark, the sky an angry black as you hobble out of the truck. Your ankle stings and your heart pounds when the strange man rounds on you, and you flinch when he outstretches a hand.

"You hurt?"

His voice, though unamused, drips like thick, rich honey. Pools at your feet with the rainwater.

"Yeah," you respond meekly. Your fingers curl against your palm, nails digging into the skin there. "It's uh, my ankle." His eyes follow yours down to your feet. Widen at the sight of black and blue. 

"Shit."

It's quiet for a long moment. You can tell he's trying to piece it all together: how you ended up alone on the side of the road, hurt.  He still doesn't ask though. Not until a particularly loud rumble of thunder sounds overhead, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

He sighs, a half-hearted comforting hand on your shoulder. 

"Someone dump you out there?" 

"Yeah," you sigh. "Boyfriend. We got into a fight and he just...lost it."

The man nods. Takes a small step forward as you hop on one foot next to him. 

It must take five whole minutes to get to the front door. Your ankle only feels worse by the time you step onto the porch, throbbing having turned into searing pain somewhere along the way. You bite down hard on your bottom lip as he jostles the key in the doorknob, the metallic taste of your own blood a temporary distraction.

He motions for you to follow him in, which you do, albeit hesitantly. His house is as you'd expect it to be from your brief encounter: little furniture or decoration, dishes in the sink, a general air of…man…throughout the small, dark space.

“Sit down,” he says. “I'll get a first-aid-kit.”

“Wait,” you stop him, because for some reason it seems of utmost importance in this very moment, despite the flash flood outside and your inability to walk, to know–

“What's your name?”

“Joel.”

You situate yourself on the couch as you wait for him to return. Scan the room for any signs of imminent danger. There’s a bookshelf on the far wall, stacked top to bottom with hardcovers and carved wooden trinkets. You wonder if he – Joel – made them himself. 

You wonder if the books keep him company out here; if the stories of Huck Finn and Moby Dick make him feel less alone. 

You wonder why he’s so isolated in the first place. 

You have little time to dwell on it though, as he re-enters the room promptly, dusty first-aid-kit in one hand and a lantern in the other. He places the latter down by his feet before pulling up a footstool. Opens up the kit and pulls out a roll of gauze.

“Might hurt a little,” he warns, beginning to unravel it.

You nod. Brace yourself. 

By the look of his hands – large and gruff – you expect him to be a bit rough. But he’s gentle, surprisingly so, cradling the lower half of your leg and wrapping your ankle with laser focus. His fingers, though calloused, skate across your skin with a near-startling softness. 

You watch his face as he works on you, quickly finding yourself transfixed by the way his brows contort and his eyes narrow, by the absentminded twitch of his mouth. He looks so much less intimidating like this, and you inadvertently begin to relax into his touch.

He seems to notice this, leaning in closer to your body, and while you know it's just to get a better angle, more precision, it still sends a rather confusing shockwave of electricity up your spine. In this proximity, you can practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. Can practically see every fiber of muscle in his biceps as they flex under his flannel shirt.

This close, you're met with the rather inconvenient realization that Joel is beautiful.

You try to tell yourself that it's purely situational, that if you hadn't just been dumped on the side of the road by your asshole boyfriend, you wouldn't be seeking the physical comfort of another man. Still, this does nothing to stop the steady acceleration of your heartbeat, nor the growing arousal between your thighs. 

All of this, despite the pain in your ankle.

You almost don't realize he's done mending you, the shifting of his hand to your opposite calf sending you into a prompt spell of dizziness. Mind flooded with images of him spreading you apart, taking you right here on this worn, leather couch, you're silently reeling. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, a little darker than you recall them being. His fingers curl against your skin and your breath hitches. 

Does he feel this too?

You shift experimentally. Let your legs fall apart just an inch. To your dismay, he pulls his hand back; clears his throat.

And just like that – the bubble bursts.

“All set,” he announces as he stands, before practically running out of the room.

A little humiliated, you retreat back into yourself. Stare out the window and pretend not to notice when he rejoins you in the living room and wordlessly drags his footstool to the opposite side of the room.

The remainder of the day passes agonizingly slow. Minutes feel like hours, the sky only growing darker, and it’s a wonder how Joel can even see the pages of the book he’s currently got his nose stuck into.

Not that he’d offered you one. 

Instead, you’ve been stuck in place. A prisoner to this couch, the springs of which are digging into your back uncomfortably. Staring out the window like some harrowed female protagonist in a period piece.

Joel doesn’t seem to notice your presence, after a while. He reads, drinks warm beer, and quite literally twiddles his thumbs. Anything to avoid talking to you. 

You’re not sure what you did wrong. Had you said something to offend him without realizing? Had your subtle pass at him been less subtle than you’d thought? Had you crossed a line? You’d really just considered it innocent flirting. Maybe Joel hadn’t.

Regardless, it makes you wonder why he even brought you here. Maybe he’d just wanted to feel like a hero – hadn’t thought about what came after. About you occupying his precious space. 

After a while of sitting in the same place, your muscles begin to ache. Plus, your throat feels dry. You need to stand, need to get something to drink. Except, when you move to get up, Joel immediately stops you. 

“Where you goin’?” 

“Need a drink.”

“I’ll get you one,” he offers. “What do you want?” 

What you really want is to go home. To forget this entire day even happened.

So you settle on–

“Vodka?” 

He hums. “Don’t got that.”

“Tequila?”

“Got some scotch left. Might be one more beer. Was really hopin’ to have it though.”

You scoff. 

“Okay. Water, then?” 

“That I can do.” 

He disappears into the kitchen and returns moments later with a glass. Hands it over without making eye contact. 

“Thanks,” you mutter. He says nothing in response. Just collects his empty beer bottles from off the floor and retreats once again. 

By the time he comes back, the sun is setting – at least, what can be seen of it through the dark clouds that still rage in the sky. 

He seems tense, fixating himself by the window and watching the storm with such acuity you think he may be waiting for the second it ends to kick you out. 

“Have you heard anything about when this is supposed to pass?” you ask.

“Have no electricity,” he grumbles. “So, no.”

You stretch out your back. Stand. This time, Joel doesn't stop you. “Just didn't know if you had a radio or something.”

“I don't.”

Rounding on him, you attempt to get him to look in your direction. Still, he stares straight ahead, like you're not even there. Frustration bubbles in you, quickly reaching a full boil.

"What is your problem?"

He finally looks at you. And then he laughs, though you get the sense that he's not amused in the slightest.

"My problem?”

You nod. Raise your eyebrows at him.

“I'm lettin' you wait out a storm in my house right now,” he says. “Doesn't seem like somethin' you should be asking me."

You scoff. "I just don't know what I did to piss you off."

He turns to face you completely now. 

"Are you kidding? Haven't done nothing but inconvenience me since you got in my truck. Askin’ for a fuckin’ cocktail like this is some kind of resort. Starin’ at me all day like i'm a guest in my own home.”

Is he fucking serious?

“Why’d you even pick me up?"

"Wasn't gonna drive by a stranded girl on the side of the road, was I?"

You're both silent for a long moment. You can't exactly be mad at him for rescuing you. Still, you feel extremely uncomfortable now, knowing that he doesn't want you here. Tears pickle the corners of your eyes threateningly. You choke them back.

"Well fine, if i'm such a fucking burden, i'll leave."

You're expecting him to open the door for you. Throw you out to the wolves. So you're more than taken aback when he shakes his head at you disapprovingly.

"Like hell you will. There's about two feet of water out there. Where you gonna go?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “But i'll figure it out."

"You'll figure it out?"

"That's what I said."

Joel tuts. "Look at the state of you right now. You can barely even walk. There’s no power anywhere. Just face it: you wanna get home safely, before tomorrow, i'm your only hope."

“Fuck you,” you spit, stepping closer to him. Where does he get off, acting like such a righteous savior? You're going to brush past him, leave anyway, but as soon as you go to move, his hand is winding around your arm.

“Don't.”

“Or what?” you hiss. 

“Just – don't.” His voice is less angry; more pleading.

“You don't want me here,” you say. It's not a question, but he nods anyway.

“Yes I do. I mean – I don't want anything to happen to you out there. Please just – let me make this up to you.”

His hand slides up to your shoulder. Squeezes gently. Your eyes wander to where he holds you. When they flit up to his face again, you find he's already gazing at you.

You're not sure who moves first.

You're back on his couch in an instant, your shorts being tugged down and off your legs, along with your panties. And then Joel is shouldering himself between your legs, shimmying down the couch and situating his face right in front of your pussy.

His nails dig into the skin of your thighs as he gets his first taste of you, and he groans. You shudder at the sight of him, the sound of him. Your fingers find their way to the curls at the crown of his head and grasp tightly onto them.

“Is this what you need, baby?” he slurs, and you nod deliriously.

“Yeah,” he smirks. “I know.”

His tongue dips into your apex, greedily lapping up some of your sweet nectar before he finally decides to put you out of your misery, dragging it up to swipe over your swollen clit. 

You instinctually buck against his face, trying to force him closer, and he chuckles. Grabs onto your thighs and pulls you toward his mouth. His tongue begins to relentlessly massage your clit and you cry out, a needy little whine that echoes through the room. 

“Mhm,” he hums against you in understanding, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your core. And then he pulls away, only momentarily, to spit on your pussy, the sound of it so obscene that your eyes roll back in response. He's back on you immediately, plunging two fingers into your soaked cunt and curling them against your g-spot as his tongue laves at you.

In less than a minute, you're coming hard, gushing all over his chin and his hand. He doesn't relent until you're gasping for him to stop, scratching at his shoulders in desperation. And then he's kissing you, the taste of your arousal on his mouth, and though satiated, you've never felt so starving.

“Need you,” you mumble against his lips, your hands roving restlessly across any part of him you can reach, grasping at fabric and skin.

He nibbles at your neck and you inhale the scent of him. Commit the smell of his sweat and musk to memory. This'll probably be the only time you have him, after all. You push that thought to the back of your mind. 

Sitting back on his haunches, Joel pulls off his shirt and undoes his belt. Shucks his jeans off. He hovers back over you with a newfound ferocity in his eyes. 

“Up,” he orders. Helps you sit. You pull your own shirt off and toss it aside. Unclasp your bra and let it fall from your body as Joel stares wolfishly at your exposed chest.

Your eyes, on the other hand, fly straight to his cock. It tents in his boxer, his bulge a bit intimidating, and you feel yourself beginning to salivate.

He chuckles above you, hand coming to rest placatingly on your waist.

“Think you can take it, baby?”

In truth, you're not entirely sure. But you're sure as hell not about to waste any more time wondering.

“Please just – fuck me.”

He shifts his weight. Props your ankle atop his back and rests with his elbows on either side of you. And then he grinds against you, the heft of his hard cock rubbing against your bare pussy.

“Patience,” he tuts. “We got nothin’ but time.”

[sonotpattismith]

savior complex

pairing: satoru gojo x reader word count: 9.6k content: manga spoilers, fluff in the beginning, angst, if gojo had survived, depression, feelings of worthlessness, hurt w/ comfort, smut, 18+ inspired by: would you fall in love with me again from epic the musical (my SHAYLAAA)

Gojo wasn’t sure that he’d had to try so hard at anything in his life— not as hard as he tried for you. 

It took weeks after that first day that you’d transferred into Jujutsu High during his third year to even get you to look at him. And sure, he knew that his flirting was rusty given the fact that he’d… never done it, but he also knew he was a handsome guy, paired with his untouchable strength as a sorcerer (pun intended), and of course his sizable wealth didn’t hurt either— he figured he was a catch. 

Then you came along, with your fierce personality and your killer smile and your tendency to completely walk past him each time he tried to get your attention. It was embarrassing— the amount of times he had been left in your dust, a cocky grin slowly falling from his face as he dropped whichever technique it was that he was trying to impress you with that day, his friends barely holding back their laughter at the peacock type display Gojo seemed so confident in. 

He was clueless as to what he was doing wrong. Did he stink? You didn’t seem as… uninclined to interact when it was Suguru asking you how you were adjusting to a new school. Trying as hard as he could not to look as similar to a perturbed toddler as he certainly felt, he even tried inserting himself into your conversations sometimes. It often ended horribly awkward for him, your sentence usually trailing off and your eyes giving him a tentative once over before you would continue your story— definitely not as enthused as you had been prior to his interruption though. 

“Do I smell?” Satoru asked with an expression of stone cold seriousness one afternoon to an exasperated Suguru, who had already had a long day as it was without his best friend’s nonsense adding onto it. The black-haired man swiveled his head around to gaze tiredly at him, allowing his face to speak for him. “No, I’m serious. Sniff me, tell me— please.” 

“Get off of me.” Suguru grunted as he shoved at the boy who was currently damn near straddling his waist while shoving his exposed armpit into his friend’s face. “Why am I nose deep in your pits right now, Satoru?”

“Because I don’t know what else is wrong with me.” 

“I could think of a few—”

“It’s like I don’t even exist!” Gojo pointedly interrupted that jab before tossing himself back on Geto’s bed. “I’ve done everything. I’ve taken over missions for her, I bought her that weird ass keychain she was looking at when we all went to Kyoto— I even tried doing that thing where I blocked the rain with my infinity. She pulled out an umbrella, Suguru. If I wasn’t so embarrassed I would’ve laughed my ass off.”

“Satoru—”

“I’m talking perfect comedic timing. I thought she couldn’t get hotter and now she’s funny—”

“Have you tried getting your head out of your ass?” Suguru finally raised his voice to cut through his incessant rambling.

 The six eyes blinked at him a few times from behind his rounded glasses, an expression of petulance slowly overtaking his features. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked defiantly in the other direction.

“You didn’t have to yell—”

But he was once again cut off, this time not by his aggravated friend, but the heavy thud and clatter from the next room over. Both boys’ heads snapped to look at one another with wide eyes. It was silent for a moment. 

“Isn’t that…” Gojo’s question trailed off when the boy beside him nodded affirmatively with an equally concerned expression— your dorm. 

In an instant, both boys were flying out of their lazed spots on the bed, fighting to squeeze through the door at the same time. It was Satoru who first pounded his fist on your door.

“Are you okay?” He shouted as Suguru finally stumbled behind him. After a moment of silence, he tried sliding the door open, but, as expected, it was locked. Pounding his fist three more times against it, he began yelling. “Hey! I’m coming in!”

He probably could have used his technique for a less… destructive route, however your lack of response was making his mind muddle with horrendous possibilities. Leaning back, one swift kick had the offending door crashing in, and both boys were quickly hopping through. You were laying in a heap on the rugged floor by your desk, a handful of your supplies strewn around you.

“Get Shoko.” Satoru commanded blindly, sliding to his knees before you to check if you were still breathing. Just as his fingers brushed against your neck though, and Suguru was halfway out the door, you stirred from your sudden coma-like state. 

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes were bleary when they opened as you slowly moved to sit up. At once, the boy in front of you was pushing you back down by the shoulders. 

“Don’t move until Shoko comes to see you.” 

“Shoko? No, no, I’m fine.” You sluggishly brushed off his hands before carefully standing up. A sigh of irritation left you as he shot his arms out to steady you should you fall. Sure, you knew he was only trying to help, but he wasn’t exactly your favorite person, and you were slightly (severely) embarrassed that he’d found you in such a state. 

“Fine?” He laughed dryly with a shake of his head. “Sweetheart, you and I have two very different definitions of fine.”

Biting back a scowl at the pet name, you bent down to begin picking up the things you’d dropped on your way to the ground. Scoffing in disbelief, he placed his hands on your shoulders to push you down to sit at your desk chair. 

“Will you sit down? You just passed out—”

“I said I’m fine. You’re not my father, and you’re not my boyfriend. So you can cut the savior crap with me.” You snapped, and the regret was almost instant the second the last syllable fell from your lips. 

It was hard not to get irritated with him though. Satoru and his perfect life and untouchable powers and abundance of wealth that he seemed so sure everyone would drop to their knees for. After having fought tooth and nail to prove to your family that exploring your cursed technique would be worthwhile, it felt like a slap in the face for him to be constantly boasting about how easily everything came to him. 

“Yeah? Thank god for that. I’ll make sure to call your father or your boyfriend next time you decide to collapse instead of showing any sort of concern myself like a decent fucking person.”

You weren’t sure you had ever seen him actually riled up, always with a bright (albeit obnoxious) smile on his face as he tried so desperately to get everyone else as giddy as he constantly seemed to be. A pang of guilt struck you for having been the reason Gojo finally frowned. Mentally cursing yourself, you tucked your legs against your chest, chin resting on your knees as you chewed pensively on your bottom lip. He didn’t storm out as you were sure he would have, but his back was turned to you now as he stared at the door awaiting Shoko’s arrival.

“I just… I forget to eat sometimes when I’ve got alot going on.” You explained quietly, eyes cast down to your desk. From your peripheral, you saw him turn around to face you once again. “And I won’t remember until I pass out.” 

It was silent for an uncomfortable minute before a strangled laugh threatened to escape the boy’s mouth. Your head shot up to glare at him in question, exasperated at his hot and cold behavior. Upon noting your irritation, he covered his mouth with his hands as if it would stop you from hearing the cackles that shook his frame. 

“You know what— fuck you, Gojo.” 

“No! No, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you— I swear!” Though he was barely able to get his frantic explanation out due to his continuous giggles. He desperately tried to get himself together as you turned away from him with burning cheeks. “I-I’m laughing because… Suguru is pulling Shoko out of class as we speak to check on you, and I broke your door down, and you… just needed a burger.”

Satoru cursed himself to sleep that night as the scene replayed in his mind of you finally having opened up to him, and he pathetically wasted the opportunity by… laughing at you. Slamming his head repeatedly against his pillow, he thought perhaps you were just out of his league at this point, as he couldn’t for the life of him seem to get anything right with you. 

He tried desperately to catch you alone the next week or so, but it seemed something else always had your attention. Whether it be your being sent on a mission, or spending time with Shoko (who knew Satoru had been begging to have a minute alone with you), or holed up in your room, headphones pressed snuggly over your ears as you hunched over your desk. 

After the collapsing fiasco, you had been leaving your door slightly ajar for fear that it may be broken down again should you have another episode. The white-haired man couldn’t count how many times he’d strolled by the door under the guise of seeing Suguru who was just one room over. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could play that one off, because his friend was beginning to grow impatient with the way he’d slide into his room multiple times a day with nothing to say, standing there for a few minutes with his hands in his pockets so it seemed like he’d actually had some business there. 

“Will you please just talk to her? You’re driving me insane.” Geto groaned out, just having been woken up from a nap by one of Satoru’s unexpected drop ins. “This is getting pathetic, Satoru.”

“I would if she didn’t look so busy all the damn time.” He grumbled, his forehead knocking against the door in aggravation. 

His own words played back in his head, and they had him quickly straightening his posture, an unreadable expression on his face. Had Suguru been more conscious at the moment, perhaps he would have questioned his sudden mood shift. The black-haired boy was already slipping back into his leaden slumber though, allowing Gojo to quickly slip back out of the room without a second glance.

It was an embarrassing amount of time later when he returned to that hallway, though he wouldn’t know the difference because he’d never had to make an utter mess of the kitchen just to make himself— or anyone for that matter— lunch. Still, oblivious to just how unnecessarily chaotic he had been in the process, Satoru was standing beside your desk expectantly until you caught his imposing form in your peripheral. Pulling down your headphones, you looked up at him with confusion etched all over your tired face. 

“Eat something.” Was the only explanation he gave, shoving a plate of… interestingly shaped onigiri toward you. You blinked down at the messy plate, your eyes trailing up to the hand attached to it that still had remnants of rice sticking to their fingers. Satoru pursed his lips at your silence, undoubtedly taking it as the same refusal you’d been giving his time and attention for months. “You’ve been in here all day studying. Eat something before you pass out again.”

But your silence wasn’t born out of the usual annoyance the white-haired man typically sparked in you. Instead, it was a stunned type of speechlessness, too touched and taken aback by what you thought was uncharacteristic thoughtfulness from the boy you were sure only thought about himself. 

Gulping down the gentle lump in your throat, you slowly accepted the plate from him, eyes fixed on the lumps of rice staring back at you. From your peripheral, you watched him nod before resignatingly turning around to leave and let you eat in peace. 

“Gojo?” He swiveled around frantically at the hesitant call of his name. There was a shy smile on your face as you looked up from the plate at him, tugging the headphones from your neck. “Aren’t you gonna stay?”  

It was clear in the way he shifted his weight antsily between his feet and stopped the widening of his already unnaturally large eyes that he was trying with everything in him not to look too excited. Pretending to check the time on a watch that wasn’t present on his wrist, he nodded with feigned nonchalance. 

“Uh… yeah, I can sit with you for a minute.”

“Just a minute?” You quipped with a raised brow.

“Or longer— no rush, y’know?” He quickly corrected as he yanked desperately at the bean bag in the corner of your room to sit beside you. The plush cushion was dragged so close to your desk chair that you wouldn’t be able to roll it away from him if you tried. 

You smiled knowingly at him, holding out the plate for him to take one of the rice balls.

“Those are for you.” Satoru shook his head, pushing the plate back toward you. 

“What would I do without you?” You teased, though there was a poorly concealed sincerity behind your fond eyes that had his heart beating out of his chest. With an amused smile, you shook your head at him. “Gojo, look, I appreciate the sentiment, but you made these the size of baseballs. Take one.”

A furious blush overtook his features at your words. It was admittedly quite refreshing to see the typically haughty sorcerer actually embarrassed, and it made him seem more human to you despite the lightyears of differences that seemed to separate you two. Sinking into his seat, his knees were nearly touching his chest thanks to the combination of the low seat and his freakishly long legs. 

“I’ve never really made anything before.” He confessed through a sheepish murmur as he finally picked up one of his messy creations. “Guess cooking isn’t one of my countless innate talents.”

“Are you telling me the strongest sorcerer has a flaw?” You gasped dramatically, revelling in the way he narrowed his striking eyes at you from behind his glasses in feigned offense. They had slipped down his nose, revealing those long, white lashes that would have any woman green with envy. 

“Can’t have it all, can I?” That infuriatingly charming smirk of his attempted to catch you off guard, but you fought past the urge to melt for him just as everyone else did so willingly. It was taking all of his own willpower to not squirm in anticipation under your gaze, what with the way you seemed to study him so closely. 

“Well, that would imply you’ve got everything else.” 

“Don’t I?”

“How about some shame? Humility? Social aware—”

“Would you please just eat?”

Though Satoru’s damn near shameful attempt at onigiri wasn’t exactly gonna win him any culinary awards anytime soon, it certainly won him something even better— your long-awaited attention. That next day in class, he had all but walked past you and Shoko, who were huddled beside each other discussing the reversed curse technique that you had been desperately trying to learn more about. 

He figured, as you always had in the past, that you didn’t want him budding into your conversations. You caught his towering figure in your peripheral, that stark, white hair traceable in even the largest of crowds. It made your words trail mid-sentence, and you smiled apologetically at your friend before shifting around to call out to him. The typically cool-demeanored boy nearly tripped over his own feet when you asked him to join you two to give his opinion on the matter. 

Shoko’s eyes rolled, a poorly concealed smirk of amusement poking up around her lit cigarette as he raced over, pushing his friend not-so-subtly aside with his shoulder in order to take the spot next to you. 

It seemed as though he knew that each time you graced him with your attention, he had to make sure he made it worth your while, and he began spouting off on a shockingly eloquent rant about the subject at hand. You hadn’t been aware that he was actually… quite intelligent under all that bravado and foolishness. In fact, you were quickly learning, as you watched him turn red in the face from the speed at which he was info-dumping, that Satoru was kind of a giant nerd.

This newfound side of him that you’d been a fool not to allow him the chance to show to you, made you actually start to understand why everyone seemed to be so fond of him. Aside from his boyish charm and knockout face, he was an avid intellectual— a trait he always seemed to be bursting at the seams to share with anyone who would listen to him. 

The two of you traded books and tips, and he tried to reel back his innate cockiness each time he was able to teach you something you didn’t know, though you were quickly beginning to understand that haughtiness was simply part of the Satoru Gojo package. Alongside his surprising thoughtfulness and undeniable ability to make you crack a smile even in your lowest of moods, you decided that you could let his occasional arrogance slide. 

Despite all your best attempts to maintain your nonchalance at the man who wore the title of the strongest like the boldest of tattoos across his forehead, no levels of his infuriating infinity could even keep you away from falling right into Satoru’s orbit. Even the heavens above knew that nothing would keep him from pulling you right in either. 

That was why even all these years later, no one in this world could have convinced you that the same boy who fought tooth and nail for your affection as a mere teenager would have abandoned you so carelessly now. 

“Would you please just eat?” 

Those painstakingly familiar words were now falling from the lips of Megumi Fushiguro, who, alongside his fellow students, seemed to be the only evidence of the white-haired man you had had contact with in the days following your fiance’s battle with the King of Curses. The ring on your left hand only served to mock you the longer this charade went on. 

You looked up from the glimmering stone to glare haphazardly up at the raven-haired boy before you. He was clutching a tray of somen noodles within his scarred hands, his face firm with exasperation despite the disheartened glint in his dark eyes. Ignoring the furious growls in your stomach at the sight of the dish, you glanced to the side. 

“It’s been three days, Megumi.” You stated monotonously, but the tears that brimmed in your waterline betrayed you. “If he died, then just tell me. I can handle—”

“He doesn’t want to see you. He left.” The boy repeated for what must have been the tenth time since breaking the news to you. 

Itadori and Kugisaki trailed just outside the entrance of the common area where you had taken up residence in protest of Gojo’s sudden disappearance. Fushiguro had always been closer to you than the others had, what with your having been there when his benefactor took him in. The other two student’s weren’t sure they could handle that broken look in your eyes as well as their aloof counterpart could. 

“He wouldn’t have left like this.” You insisted through gritted teeth, swiping furiously at the traitorous tears that raced down your sunken cheeks. “Tell him if he wants to leave me that he can come say it to my face. Until then, take your food and go come up with a better excuse.” 

The shadow-user sighed desolately at your continued refusal. He only wished he could tell you that he wanted nothing more than for his mentor to man up and come face you himself. It was killing him to see you waste away like this with the hopes that it would draw Gojo out from wherever it was he was hiding. You had refused to leave that stiff couch, refused to eat, refused to accept the lies your fiance had told them to give you to explain his absence. 

While it infuriated him to no end, Megumi could also, for once, understand the white-haired man’s ever-confusing decisions. Despite that part of him that felt he would have likely done the same thing, the boy knew deep down that you would be able to handle this situation far better than what Gojo was giving you credit for.

Setting the tray down on the table in front of you, Megumi nodded to his friends to leave you be once again. It was now his turn to report back to the man of the hour, hoping that something would get through to him if he heard how long it had been since you’d moved an inch. 

Your form of protest was skillfully thought out, because you were right— it was killing Satoru to know that you were wasting away by yourself in that desolate common room. After all these years, it would have been foolish of him to assume that you wouldn’t know the best ways to get under his skin. Perhaps he should have had them tell you he was dead, though he was selfishly worried about the permanent consequences that lie would have. That, and he had a feeling that somehow you two were far too soul-tied for you to not be able to tell if he’d truly left this earth or not.

The supposed strongest was trying desperately to stay resolute in his decision, because if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he no longer deserved you. After everything he’d done, everything he hadn’t been strong enough to do, Satoru couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping beside you each night knowing what he was once capable of, now that he was no longer. 

What would you think of him? Even if you did accept him as he was now, would it only be out of pitiful obligation? He wasn’t sure he could stomach the idea of you shifting your life to accommodate him— not when he had made it his life’s mission since you two were teenagers to assure you never had to lift a finger if it wasn’t what you truly wanted to do. 

Satoru would hardly be able to blame you. When he got down on one knee, you had agreed to marry a version of him that no longer existed— one that was an unstoppable force, that could protect and please you without so much as breaking a sweat. This version of himself that he was now being forced to come to terms with was worthless, only a shell of his former self that you had fallen in love with. 

The stubbornness that he had grown to love since you first turned your cheek to him all those years ago was only infuriating him now. It was making it that much harder to leave you behind as he knew was best for you when you were reminding him with each passing day how well you knew him, and he wasn’t sure anyone had ever understood him on such a level— and no one ever would again. 

After nearly a week of this back and forth, with your only leaving your post to shower and barely accepting food, Satoru wasn’t sure if he’d be able to wait out your stubborn protest as he thought would be his only option. Each day, he’d tell himself that you’d cave eventually— you’d give up and go back home. You would move on and live your life until you forgot about him, safe from the burden of who he’d become. Each day though, you proved him wrong. 

The lights of the common room had already dimmed for the night, the only illumination coming from the gentle rays of the moon’s glow as it creeped in through the windows. Winter was taking its toll on the campus, especially the room you’d stubbornly decided to stay put in for the past week or so. At least if you had been at home, the comfort of your heater promised protection from the building cold. 

Despite how much your body trembled under the solace of the blanket Megumi had brought for you, you knew that home wouldn’t be nearly as comforting as the trick of nostalgia was telling you— not without Satoru there to share that warmth. 

Curling in on yourself, you stared blankly at the low table in front of you where another tray of food had been left untouched. Truthfully, a part of you wondered how much longer you could keep this protest up, only the occasional pack of soda crackers fortifying you as you waited out Satoru’s absence. The more stubborn side of you said you’d wither away here on this unforgiving couch if it meant you at least went down trying. 

The soft patter of snow falling against the windows lulled your stinging eyes shut. Even your dreams had been desperately trying to make sense of your fiance’s uncharacteristic abandonment. Nightmares plagued you most nights, Satoru being at the forefront of each one; they all ended in his horrendous death— because death was the only logical explanation you could conjure up for him leaving you behind so mercilessly. 

Tonight’s cinematic retelling of the endless possibilities of his final fate had you awakening with a start. No matter how many nights now that you had spent reliving the same grief over and over again, no amount of repitition could stop the way the tears that should have run out by now would pour from your eyes first thing each morning. 

The moon was still watching over you when you decided to pull yourself from your latest nightmare. Panting out through strained sobs, the blanket slipped down your shoulders upon your abrupt descent into a sitting position. It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t alone tonight, despite the criminally early hour it must have been. 

Your wide, burning eyes blinked a few times at the man standing before you as though he might vanish back into the depths of your imagination should you clear your bleary eyes enough. He remained firmly in his place, silent as death as you processed the scene you had woken up to. 

He figured you might yell at him, hit him with all the force of a scorned woman, tell him off for having disappeared, but you only assessed him quietly. With narrowed eyes, you took in the way his hair had grown out slightly past his normal length, covering his forehead in a manner that almost seemed intentional. His dark-rimmed glasses covered up the eyes that you had been longing to see for so long, almost mocking you as your own reflection stared back at you through the lenses. 

Satoru— he was standing right before you, shoulders rising and falling, but silent, and uncharacteristically so. You’d be able to pick him out of a crowd, you were sure of it, but there was something so different about him now as he stared down at you. The tendrils of cursed energy that were typically flowing out of him in overwhelming waves no longer filled the air around you. They once blanketed you in their demanding presence, but now the air surrounding you was lighter, his energy a stark difference to the one you had grown used to.

Slowly, you stood from the couch, the frigid touch of the wood floors permeating the thick layer of your socks and sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes never left his concealed ones as you rose to stand just a hair’s breadth away from him. His Adam's apple bobbed at your sudden proximity, and it was taking all of his already frail energy to not wrap you in his arms to chase away the cold that dared to bite at your frame. 

 The man flinched back notably as your hand reached up for his glasses, but it didn’t deter you from carefully pulling them off of his face. He closed his eyes though, desperately resolute in his attempt to conceal the truth from you. 

“Look at me.” 

Your simple demand nearly broke his resolve after so long of longing to hear that melodic voice of yours again. Clenching his jaw, he slowly allowed his eyes to open, unsure of why he thought you wouldn’t be able to tell that something was different about him.

And different it was.

Satoru’s once other-worldly, glittering eyes that shone with the promise of his earth-shattering abilities were now dulled— still that breathtaking blue that you had come to love, however the absence of the trait he prided himself so devoutly on was evident, even in the dim moonlight. 

You watched as he tried to keep his face neutral, but that fierce insecurity that was so rare to see on him was breaking through his changed eyes. There was no explanation needed— you understood now with stunning clarity why he had tried to stay away. 

He must have taken your silence for horror, his lips pulling into a firm line as he leaned down to grab the tray of food he had come here with the intention of delivering to you himself. The carefully prepared meal was shoved forward.

“Eat.” 

His firm order shook you from your trance, and you were now beginning to notice the countless scars lining his face and arms that hadn’t been there when you kissed him goodbye that dreaded morning before the battle. Blinking back the mist in your eyes, you sniffled and shook your head at him, squaring your shoulders in a fierce display of determination.

“I want to eat at home.” You explained through calculated eye contact. “Take me home, Satoru.” 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal the pain it was igniting in him to refuse you. Painting a scowl onto his features, he pressed the tray against your chest.

“I didn’t change my mind.” He insisted unyieldingly, hoping the contempt he was feigning was convincing. “I’m leaving, I don’t want to be with you anymore. Now— eat.” 

His words were undoubtedly a slap in the face, evident in the way you flinched back subtly. Gulping down the lump in your throat, your eyes trailed down his visibly tired frame once again. His arms were trembling ever so slightly with the weight of the tray in his hands, and you were now noticing the matching scars circling both his arms. 

“You don’t want to be with me anymore?” You repeated, though your question came out more like a statement, and it took him a moment before he reminded himself to offer a solid nod in confirmation.

 With a solemn nod of your own, you took the tray from him to place it back on the table before tugging the engagement ring off of your finger. His face contorted gut-wrenchingly at the sight, barely able to register what you were doing as you lifted his hand to place the ring in the center of it. Your expression remained fiercely neutral as you held out your own palm to him. He only blinked down at you, a misty haze clouding his gaze. 

“Give me your ring.” You demanded simply. 

It had been glaring at you since you first opened your eyes and saw him, glimmering under the faint glow of the moon. The promise ring you had given him in exchange for the one he gifted you on your third anniversary together— it was still sat proudly on his left-hand’s ring finger, awaiting to be replaced by a wedding band just as he’d replaced yours with an engagement ring only a few months ago. 

He swallowed thickly at your request, but you only shook your outstretched palm at him in expectation. Looking down at his left hand, his thumb absentmindedly rolled over the silver band, feeling the indents of you two’s initials carved into the metal under his fingertip. Despite his best efforts to control his expression, his bottom lip trembled at the implications of what he was about to do. Your heart cracked as you watched the tears pool in his eyes. Dropping his head, he allowed his hair to curtain over his eyes as the salty streams began pouring down his cheeks. 

“Don’t do this to me.” He whispered desolately with a shake of his head. A heavy sigh fell from your lips, drooping your shoulders in the process.

“Then put that ring back on my finger and take me home, Toru.”

“And then what?” Satoru exclaimed, finally looking up at you through the blur of his frustrated tears. The abrupt motion shifted his rustled hair, revealing a sliver of the thick scar running across his forehead. “I’m not the same man you agreed to marry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Look at me!” His furious command had you flinching back ever-so-slightly. “I can barely stand on my own two feet without running out of breath. I’m weak— I lost damn near everything, and I’m not the same Satoru anymore, okay?”

“Then I will walk with you every fucking day until you get better. I never loved you because you were strong, so I don’t give a shit if you’re weak now, Satoru. And don’t you dare stand there and tell me you lost everything because I am still here, and no amount of scars are going to make me leave.” 

An agonized sob shook his frame, and he was quickly stumbling forward to sink onto the couch with a wince. Tears of your own began slipping down your face as you moved to sit beside him. He buried his face into his hands, your engagement ring still hanging on the tip of his pinky finger. 

“I don’t have anything left to give you.” His pained whisper struck you in the chest. 

Leaning forward, you carefully wrapped your arm around his bicep. There was an attempted subtly in the way you ran your fingertips delicately over the new scar circling the muscle, and you tried not to cry out as your mind put two and two together of what could have possibly happened to warrant such symmetrical marks across his body. As you tucked your chin onto his shoulder, he finally peered over at you. You offered him a wistful smile even through your tears.

“When have I ever asked anything more of you than to stay with me?” 

Just like all those years ago in your dorm room, Satoru couldn’t bear to deny you— not when you asked him so sweetly with those wide, hopeful eyes of yours. He slipped your ring back onto its rightful place and pressed a lingering kiss to the stone. The wetness of his tears dripped onto your hand, but you couldn’t possibly think of a better feeling after having gone so long without him. 

It wasn’t until you two finally made it back to your shared home that night that he realized that in the haste of his giving into you once again, he had all but forgotten about why it was so important to him that he stay away. 

“Why don’t you take a hot shower? You’re still shaking, you wimp.” Satoru tried to sound lightheaded, poking fun at you like was once so common for him, but nothing about this new arrangement would ever be common again. 

You glanced over your shoulder from the sink, where you had busied yourself cleaning the bowls you two had just eaten from. It admittedly took longer than you had expected to finish eating, as your fiancé kept pushing more food onto your plate to make up for the hunger strike he was still grumbling about that you went on. 

Turning back to place the final dish on the drying rack, you smiled fondly. 

“That depends, are you gonna come help warm me up?” 

Your teasing offer made the smile slowly slip from his face, though you wouldn’t see it with your back turned to him. He looked down at himself— the scars that now littered his body and how difficult even the most mundane of tasks had become for him in his gruelling recovery. The gentle hum of question that escaped you at his sudden silence reminded him that you were still expecting a response. 

“Well, I—”

“C’mon, I’ll meet you there.” Your airy invitation cut off whatever excuse he was about to make, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you knew exactly what he was thinking as you made your way to your shared bedroom, ruffling at his already tousled hair on the way. He remained idly at the table, staring down at himself hesitantly as the soft patters of the running shower reached his ears. 

It had been quite some time since you two were last intimate— what with his being sealed and the immediate need for his services following his release. Sex had never been an area of insecurity for Satoru. After all, he was strong and confident, and he never once had to doubt your attraction toward him. Now though, his stamina wasn’t the same, and his body sure as hell didn’t look as aesthetically pleasing as it had the last time he’d bared himself to you.

Carefully standing from his seat, he stretched out his stiff muscles before practically dragging his feet toward the room he once couldn’t wait to get you alone in. The bathroom had already steamed up considerably from the scorching water you always liked boiling yourself in. The apprehensive man hovered in the doorway, lips parting at the sight of your heavenly silhouette through the fogged, glass shower door. 

“Toru?” You called out upon hearing the door creak open a bit further.

 Cracking the shower open, you poked your head through with an anticipatory smile, but it quickly fell upon seeing the sullen expression on his face and the way his fingers twisted in uncertainty into the hem of his shirt. 

“It’s just me, babe.” You offered gently, and he responded with a barely noticeable nod. 

“Yeah, just… give me a minute. I’ll be right there.”

He was grateful that you were gracious enough to recognize his need for your patience as you nodded in understanding and slipped back into the shower. Glancing up at the ceiling in hopes that he wouldn’t catch his own reflection in the mirror, he carefully lifted his shirt over his head, wincing faintly at the stretch. His bottoms were soon joining the discarded top on the marble floor. The mirror in his peripheral taunted him, and he kept his gaze cast down as he slowly made his way to the shower. 

You smiled upon hearing the door slide open behind you, biting your cheek in anticipation of his warm hands sliding around your middle— because Lord knows your fiance was never known for his ability to keep his hands to himself. Those wandering hands never came though, and you gradually peered over your shoulder. 

He was standing just outside the shower stream, arms hovering hesitantly at his sides. The expression on his face appeared angry— not at you though, almost as though there was a self-inflicted war waging in his mind as he awaited your reaction. You blinked the continuously running water from your eyes as you turned fully around to face him. After a moment of careful, reassuring eye contact, you allowed your eyes to drift down over his tense frame.

There were a myriad of the tiniest slashes running across nearly every inch of him. Even more striking though, was the thick, jagged scar circling the entire circumference of his waist. The lump in the back of your throat made it nearly impossible to swallow down the tears threatening to spill out. Still, you did so for his sake, because the cautionary glint in his eyes told you he was waiting for your disapproval. 

The tips of your fingers reached out to graze the area carefully, knowing that despite how much the RCT must have sped along the healing process, it likely still felt fresh. He shivered under the featherlight touch of your fingertips. Your glistening body drew closer to him, and he wasn’t sure whether his insecurity would be stronger than his lust for you as your breasts grazed his chest. 

With a fond hum, your hands drifted up his chest to circle around his neck. He tried to conceal his grunt of effort as he leaned down to your level in order to kiss you properly. Nearly slipping as you lifted yourself on your tiptoes to help him, his hands immediately shot forward to steady you shakily. 

With all the doubts running through his mind, he expected you to huff in frustration, to pull away from him as he certainly wouldn’t blame you for doing. You only smiled witsfully against his dewy lips though, the bridge of your nose brushing against his as you whispered sincerely. 

“I missed you.” 

Still, Satoru wasn’t sure that his long awaited presence would ever be enough. 

After some time, you agreed to go back to work at the school, especially since Gojo was nowhere near prepared to get back into the swing of things. Though no one dared speak it into existence, everyone had already silently accepted the fact that he’d likely never be able to take on missions like he once did. More hands off teaching— sure, though it felt like a slap in the face compared to what he once was capable of. 

It wasn’t as though this was something new you were needing to jump into now. No, you had begun working as soon as you graduated just as he had. The difference was, you worked with the understanding that you really didn’t need to be doing it, and your partner always made sure you knew that you could quit at any time under the safety of his sizable wealth. Now though, there was a significant need for more help with the students in Gojo’s absence, and it was eating him alive that you now felt responsible for picking up that slack despite your insistence that you wanted to help.

Satoru had no clue anymore just what it was that he was providing you in this relationship. 

“Baby, they’ll be fine.” He pleaded for the upteenth time, unable to bear the thought of you breaking your own back while he stays at home— utterly useless. “They can wait a little longer until I come back.”

You smiled with a shake of your head, slathering on some of that lotion you always wore before bed that never failed to drive him crazy. 

“I’ve been home for the past week. You’re not sick of seeing me?” 

He scoffed as though personally offended by your accusation. Shifting forward to replace your hands with his own, he kissed your shoulder as his hands continued to work the cream into your thighs from behind. The tiniest sparks of hope ignited in him when you sighed quietly under your breath, your head gently falling back against his bare chest at the sensation of the devastatingly familiar ridges on his fingertips against your skin. 

Being intimate with you again was something he was pointedly avoiding— too ashamed of his own body to feel remotely confident enough to engage in it, and far too worried the new stress on this body would make for a comparably disappointing experience than what you were used to. Even so, he could see it on your face and feel it in your wanton sighs just how much you had missed him, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to act as though he didn’t miss it too. 

“I’ll never get sick of you.” Satoru breathed sincerely against your cheek, his thumbs digging desolately into the fat of your inner thighs. They parted in anticipation at his languid motions, allowing his hand to slip up the loose leg of your silken sleep shorts. 

“Promise?” You teased breathlessly, fisting the fabric of his sweatpants as his fingers creeped up your fluttering core. 

“With everything in me.” Though he wasn’t sure just how much that entailed anymore. 

Maybe, he thought as he dipped two fingers into your awaiting heat, if he could at least make love to you he wouldn’t feel like a complete waste of space— like there was still something he could give you even if it meant pushing the limits of his already fragile body. His arm began to ache in tandem with his steady rhythm, but you were whimpering so sweetly into his ear as though he still deserved to hear it. 

Leaning down, Satoru captured your lips in a frenzied attempt to swallow up all the pent up energy spilling from your plush lips. In his lust-clouded mind, he thought maybe it would heal him, breathe life back into his sore muscles and tingling nerve endings that taunted him with every curl of his fingers against your sweet walls. Your mouth parted involuntarily against his in a blissed cry, and it was enough to convince him that— maybe he did still have it in him. 

Offering a forlorn moan of his own, your fiancé frantically parted from you to push you back down against the mattress, each scarred over stitch across his torso screaming in protest, but he had something to prove now as he allowed his sweatpants to fall to the floor. 

Your half lidded eyes drank him in greedily, relieved to see that despite his carefully calculated restraint throughout the past few days, he still wanted you just as much as you had been craving him. Slipping your shorts down easily, neither of you seemed patient enough to waste anymore time after so long without one another. 

Satoru climbed back onto the bed, hoping you didn’t notice his wince of effort on the way. It seemed he was in the clear though, and your graceful fingers slipped up his nape and tangled into his freshly cut hair. Though he wasn’t too keen on the idea of going to a barbershop just yet— what with the peculiar scar running across his forehead, he had agreed to sit on the closed toilet lid just a few nights prior as you stood between his spread legs and carefully trimmed the wisps of white hair that had grown past his wide eyes. 

You were so grateful that you did, because now your view of those messianic eyes was unobstructed and knocking the air straight from your lungs as they always had the unique power of doing. With a heart that felt as though it was turning to mush under his zealous gaze, your impatient hands circled his hips carefully to pull his already lined up length into you. 

“God— I missed you so much.” He gasped, though he could barely get his words out through the desperate kisses he was pressing against any inch of you he could reach. You moaned in relief, tears threatening to pool in your eyes at the intensity of the long-awaited connection. “I’ll never leave you again— I swear. I’m sorry, I love you. Fuck, you feel—”

You cut him off with a sloppily aimed kiss, a fond smile breaking through your lips as you realized that of course, if his near death was going to leave him with one thing, it was going to be his rapid-fire tongue. Satoru only whined against your mouth, forgoing his previous caution and shifting his hips forward to roll into you. His stamina was already dwindling by the second, emphasized by the growing tenderness in his torso, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t see you through your much deserved climax. 

“You okay, Toru?” You panted against his lips, taking note of the way his fist trembled against the sheets beside your head. 

“‘M perfect— don’t worry about me.” He lied, dipping down to nip at your collarbone in hopes of distracting you from the clear discomfort racing through his bones. “You’re perfect, keep making those pretty noises for me, yeah?”

It was enough to placate you for just a second longer, unable to deny him as the pitched moans continued flowing from your lips. Your pliancy spurred him on, making him feel far more confident than he should have in his current state as he ran a heated hand down your body to hook it behind your thigh. It wasn’t until he lifted it over his shoulder to snap his hips up in that way he was so used to making you melt, that a strangled curse fell through his gritted teeth. 

“Satoru—”

“I’m fine, please.” Your fiance quickly implored even through the pained scrunch of his striking features. His hand fell from your thigh to cup your face, squishing your cheeks between his frenzied fingers as it was clear the once blissed expression on your face was falling in place of frantic concern. 

“You’re not—”

“I am. C’mon, let me take care of you—”

“Satoru, get off.” 

The continued plea that was preparing to escape him got caught unceremoniously in his throat at your command. Gulping down the bile that threatened to rise up his throat, his blown out eyes searched your face while he slowly inched away from you. Shuffling up onto your elbows, you carefully pushed him onto his back, falling safely against the mountain of feathery pillows. 

His face remained solemn as you crawled over him, and though he had never been one to deny the sight of you on top of him, with the silken skin of your thighs glistening in the moonlight that flowed in through the windows and the flimsy sleeves of your tank top slid halfway down your arm— the fact still remained that it was because he couldn’t do it. The very body hindering him betrayed him as his jaw dropped at the bittersweet feeling of you sinking down onto him. 

It shouldn’t have mattered. Your face still mirrored the very bliss it reflected when he had you beneath him, but every roll of your supple hips that inched him closer to his release felt like a slash to his already mutilated chest. How could you still look at him with such admiration, and who the fuck was he if not the strongest anymore?

That night, you slept soundly beside him, curled carefully into his side with all the peace of someone who’d just made love to a partner they’d long believed dead. It drew a smooth tranquility over each crease and furrow that once dared to disturb your delicate face, your lips parted crookedly due to your cheek’s positioning against his chest. 

Dawn creeped closer and closer with the looming threat of what he’d soon be forced to accept while sleep drifted farther from his reach. His eyes burned as they stared down at your slumbering figure for hours on end, willing himself to be able to see every atom that worked in angelic harmony to make up his love the way his six eyes once allowed him the privilege of. He only grew more restless as the mundanity of his pupils only graced him with the surface level of your fathomless allure. 

Blinking away the haze that had glazed over his tired eyes, Satoru looked away from you for the first time in hours to glance at the time on the clock. It wouldn’t be long before your wretched alarm would be waking you to get ready and shoulder the burden that was once his alone. With a huff of vexation, he carefully maneuvered himself out from under you, replacing himself with the body pillow you always used in his absence. 

A strained wince escaped him as he stood quietly from the bed, yet no amount of stretching seemed to soothe what he feared would be an everpresent ache. Willing himself through it, he used his foot to scoop his discarded sweatpants up in order to avoid bending down and reminding himself of his deficits.

The lights of the kitchen nearly blinded his sleepless irises when he flicked them on, and he groaned while attempting to adjust to the sudden onslaught. His shoulders fell slowly as he looked around the kitchen in uncertainty, opening up various cabinets until he found the small collection of bento boxes the two of you had accumulated over the years. 

Gojo chewed at his bottom lip in concentration, rummaging through nearly every utensil drawer and refrigerator shelf in his pursuit. It was actually a damn miracle he didn’t wake you up in his chaotic gathering of tools and ingredients— what with each grunt of effort as he squatted and reached above his head in search of a specific pot or seasoning. 

Despite his best efforts to take it easy, his mounting frustration only grew with each tremor of his hand as he attempted to cut up the leftover salmon you two had eatent the night before into tiny chunks. With a shake of his head, he tightened his grip around the base of the knife in determination, praying to whichever god had forsaken him that he could just do this one thing for you. 

In typical Gojo fashion, there was a trail of chaos being left in his wake— bonito flakes spilled about the counter and used utensils strewn all around him by the time he was finally finishing up what would have been a simple project if at the hands of anyone else. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of your alarm going off in the next room, and it had him speeding up his movements in a frantic attempt to get everything organized before you stepped out. 

“Toru?” Your voice was still laced with sleep by the time your gentle footsteps were making their way out into the kitchen. 

Washing off the remaining bits of sticky rice clinging to his fingers, he swiveled around to face you. Your eyes widened a bit upon seeing the flush of effort still staining his face, but he smiled tiredly at you nonetheless, a subtle timidness behind his eyes that you hadn’t seen on him in so long. Stepping forward slowly, you eyed him carefully as he wiped his trembling hands on his already stained sweatpants. 

“You sleep okay?” He mumbled into the crown of your head as he pulled you into his chest, careful not to mess up the style you had placed it in for work. 

“Yeah,” You answered hesitantly, pressing a kiss to his chest before pulling away from him and adjusting your bag over your shoulder. “What are you doing up so early?”

Averting his gaze from you bashfully, he turned around to grab the neatly folded bag to present to you, weighed down by the brim-stuffed bento box he had placed in it. Staring down at it to avoid looking in your eyes, he pursed his lips awkwardly as though embarrassed by his attempt at packing you a lunch. 

“They’ll probably be up your ass all day since they’ve been short.” Satoru began, his fingers drumming quietly against the bag with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t need you passing out on me.”

His attempted chuckle at his half-hearted joke came out hesitantly as he watched you blink owlishly down at the bag outstretched to you in offering. You slowly took the bag from him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your glossed lips. He reached up to scratch at the nape of his neck in uncertainty. 

“It’s just some rice balls, but I can probably go out today and get some—”

You cut him off, reaching up onto your tip-toes to press an appreciative kiss to his jaw. 

“What would I do without you?” Your love-sick smile caught him by surprise, a dumb-struck expression falling onto his flushed face. 

Before he could stammer out a response (not that his short-circuiting mind would be capable of coherent speech right now), you pressed one more, longing kiss to his lips before promising to see him later that night and rushing out the door. 

Satoru stared absently at the door that had just closed behind you as a gradual understanding flooded his consciousness. Perhaps it was just because it had been so long since he felt the need to fight for your approval, or maybe it was that he simply never learned his lesson, no matter how much you had worked to engrain it into him over all these years. It was hardly fair to blame him though, given that all the love he’d ever been shown had those six eyes of his trailing not too far behind. 

But you— you had never batted an eye at his status, or his money, and certainly not his powers. All those years ago it had only taken some horribly disfigured rice balls for you to fall for him, stubbornly never too impressed by his technique or silver tongue. 

It was a few, lovingly crafted onigiri that helped you recognize his place in your life, and it was the very thing that, even all these years later, was helping him recognize it as well.

a/n: inner theater kid effectively placated thank u

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[dreamsofbroflovski]

Leopold "Butters" Stotch x Reader - sweet escape

Also available on ao3!

Summary: When you and your darling boyfriend break up, Eric Cartman's inner cupid decides to make sure you two get back together... By fucking your way right out of that argument.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (EVERYONE INVOLVED IS ABOVE THE AGE OF CONSENT), Explicit Language, Cisgender female Reader, Aphrodisiacs, Nipple Play, Nipple Orgasm, Penis In Vagina Sex, Bathroom Sex, Creampie

A/N: I've had this in my Docs for almost 2 months now, and never got to properly finish it. Then yesterday I went berserk and stayed until 4am writing and cleaning up the draft so I could have it up by today.

We have an utter drought of Butters x Reader smut in this fandom, so I hope I did our sweet guy justice.

Obligatory "English is not my first language, if anything sounds like total nonsense it probably is so please let me know" This is also my first fic after whole years without writing anything creative and my first smut work in general and IDK how to feel about it

It was your average Monday morning in Park County. People from all walks of life had frowns on their faces as they made their way to school or work, missing the protection of their warm blankets and the peacefulness of a deep sleep. In your high school, most of the students hung about in the hallways as they waited for classes to start, and the cliques standing around together provided some warmth for its members, both emotionally and physically.

At the end of one of the corridors, in one of the staircases, hung out a particular group of young men, lazing around and chatting about their weekend like everyone else. Some of them stood, leaning on the wall or the handrail, while others sat on the steps, basically creating a barricade against anyone who wanted to go up or down the stairs - not that many people tried, anyway; over the course of their high school days all the way to the current senior year, the South Park boys had kind of made that particular part of the stairs their hangout spot, and the other students really just preferred to take any necessary detours than have to deal with the certified biggest assholes in the whole school.

As they began to engage in yet another heated debate over some useless topic, almost none of them saw a certain blonde man arrive. This was not abnormal - most people were never paying attention to Butters, unless they needed him for a favor. What was abnormal, however, was the expression he carried. Butters was a normally friendly and peaceful person, always with a smile on his face even in the most inhospitable of days; to see him like he was now, walking with heavy steps like a soldier, his face down and gaze fixed on his own feet, it didn’t take much from anyone to see that he was not doing well. 

“Hey there, fellas.” He spoke in an unusually low voice, not looking up for even a second to acknowledge his peers. Almost all the other boys responded with a quiet Hey or a quick movement of the head, but he didn’t acknowledge either of those greetings, too engulfed in his own feelings.

“Oh, hey, Butters, there you are.” Cartman said, looking briefly at his direction but almost seeing past him, clearly not realizing what was amiss - Eric couldn’t care about someone else’s feelings to save his life. “Thank God you’re here, I have to talk to you about something later and it’s really important, if you didn’t show up it would’ve really fucked me over. You’re really gonna have to make up to me later for that. We’ll go over what you can do during lunch, so tell your bitch to - hey, where’s your bitch, anyway?”

“I DON’T KNOW, I DON’T CARE, AND IF ANY OF YOU DO THEN YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELVES!” was Butters’ immediate answer, in such a thundering angry tone that it made the whole group flinch in fear. This was the first moment he actually looked at his so-called friends that Monday, and his face was one of pure fury. “And if YOU-” he turned in his heels to face Cartman, pointing a finger at his face, “-think I’m going to be a part of whatever fucking evil deeds you have planned right now, then you better sit that fat ass of yours down, because I ain’t helping you anymore, got it?” He turned again to glare at the rest of the guys, who all had wide eyes. “Or any of you bitches either! I’m done with you jerks! DONE!”

“Dude, dude, calm down, it’s okay-” Kyle was the one to first try and appease the situation, seeing as everyone else was too afraid to make a movement. He tried to reach an arm out to Butters, but it was promptly slapped out of his reach by the latter.

“IT’S NOT FUCKING OKAY! Everyone hates you, y’all fucking hate each other, and then you sit around here and pretend to be best friends! Oh, but y’all won’t say anything because if you do y’all gon’ have to hang around with fucking Kip Drordy ‘till graduation! And I’ll tell you what else-”

He eventually became engulfed by his own rage, breathing rapidly as he looked around for anything else he could say his truth about.

“Easy there, buddy. Look, I haven’t had breakfast yet, how about you and I go pick up a snack in one of the vending machines?” Kenny tapped on Butters’ shoulder, gesturing in the direction of the canteen.

“I don’t want no goddamn snack!” Butters yelled right in Kenny’s ear, but the latter didn’t even acknowledge the rudeness, being used to worse back at his house.

“Yes, you do. Now let’s go.”

The whole staircase group watched in silence as Kenny dragged Butters far away, and then all faces turned to Cartman.

“Great job there, fatass.” Kyle snarled, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck you, Kyle! What the hell did I do now?” Cartman raised his voice, pointing a finger in Kyle’s face, then signaling with his other hand towards the corridor through which Butters had just left. “He’s the one that started acting like a chick on her period! That’s got nothing to do with me!”

“You provoked him, dude! You know he’s sensitive about that shit these days!”

“Butters is always sensitive, dude! What is his problem NOW?”

The other boys looked at each other, unsure if Cartman’s behavior was legitimate. “You really don’t know what you did?” Kyle asked, almost a surprised tone in his voice, his eyebrows arched.

“No! If I’m going to be blamed for shit, at least tell me what it is!” Eric huffed, tired of the back-and-forth.

Kyle took a deep breath. “Butters and (Y/N) broke up this weekend.”

The news had Cartman legitimately shocked. “Really? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“But he did. He told all of us.” Stan picked up his phone and turned the screen towards Cartman, with the messages app open, and started scrolling up quickly with his free hand, which made it impossible for the other to be even able to read anything. “It’s all over the group chat, dude.”

“Oh, right. I didn’t read that shit, I was rushing the battle pass for the new Fortnite season.” Cartman waved his hand in dismissal and Stan put his phone back in his pocket.

“Then you can’t complain about not being informed of stuff as soon as it happens.”

“Alright, alright, my bad. But man, hope they get back together.”

Eric wasn’t really feeling bad about causing Butters to snap or worried about your romance out of care for his friend. More so, like everything else in his life, the fatass wanted you to sort your issues because that would bring him personal benefit. He needed your lover for something in the coming days, a very important plan he had been cooking, and that breakup could very well ruin it all.

When you and Butters first got together, Cartman thought this was the death of his most useful pawn, maybe he’d even have to spy on your relationship to make sure you wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. To his surprise, the opposite turned out to be true - the already affable young man became even more docile, if that was even possible. He was also willing to do damn near anything if it meant your happiness, so the only thing Cartman ever had to do to get his help was make up some bullshit story about how that scheme was actually going to be great for your relationship and how you’d be so glad if Butters just assisted him with this one thing (despite said thing having nothing to do with you at all, and you normally not being aware of the stuff until it happened). Since the blonde was mad at you, that meant the usual strategies wouldn’t stick.

Whatever it was that was creating this rift between you two, it had to end fast.

“But why the hell did they break up, anyway?” Eric continued, hoping to gather more information that he could use to reverse the situation.

“You’d know if you read the group chat!”, three or four of the guys answered in unison.

“Hell, I don’t read the group chat either and even I know what happened”, said Craig. He wasn’t usually one to engage in his colleagues’ dumb fighting, so, since the most aloof person on Earth had an opinion on the subject, Cartman knew he’d been missing out.

“You don’t read the group chat?!” Tweek yelped, looking at Craig with a panicked expression on his face - even more panicked than the one he had at any given time. “ACK!- You gotta read it, babe! What if one of us gets injured, dies, and you never find out because you didn’t read the group chat? What if EVERYONE dies and our last wishes are all in the group chat? UGH!”

He then seemingly got really scared of this hypothetical situation he himself created, proceeding to hyperventilate and tremble on the spot.

“I don’t read them because you do, babe. Then you tell me everything. Your texts are the only ones I ever need to read.” 

Craig patted Tweek’s hair a few times and kissed him on the forehead after speaking, which seemed to calm down the anxious male, who let out a contented sigh as his lungs seemed to finally allow him to breathe properly again. Everyone else around rolled their eyes at this, and Jimmy, out of the couple’s line of sight, stuck his tongue out and made a gesture pointing down his throat as if going to vomit.

“What do you guys do when the girls are mad at you, though?” Kyle asked, looking across the group, focusing on no one in particular - Kyle was the only one there who never managed to be in a long-term relationship (his surreal bad luck with women was extremely good content for jokes around those parts), and wouldn’t have an answer to that particular question.

“I just fuck mine ‘till she’s stupid”, Clyde answered immediately, with a hint of pride in his voice.

“Jesus, Clyde!” Tolkien gawped at the man next to him. Even if they were used to that type of vulgar speech, hearing it early in the morning on a Monday was a less than ideal setup. “Didn’t your mom teach you some manners or something?”

“As a matter of fact, no. She couldn’t.” Clyde looked sad for a moment. “But it’s real, you guys. Whenever Bebe starts bitching my ear off about some nonsense, I just take her somewhere private and give it to her good. By the time we’re done, she can’t even remember what it was she wanted, so it’s a win.”

“She probably just drops the issue because she knows you’re too stupid to hold any kind of deep conversation with”, stated Craig, earning a chuckle from most of the guys.

“Hey! It’s not like you’re any kind of master communicator either, Mr. Don’t-Read-The-Group-Chat!” Clyde retorted, hitting Craig - and Tweek, by association - right where it hurted.

By then, Cartman had tuned out the voices of all the other guys, the gears in his mind turning furiously. Clyde, however much of an idiot he could be, had unironically given him the solution to his most pressing problem. 

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Later on, at night, the only lights on in a particular suburban street were those in the kitchen of the Cartman household.

Eric had an old cookbook open in the counter in front of him, alongside an assortment of ingredients and kitchen utensils. The food laid out seemed like your average components for making cupcakes - sugar, eggs, flour, the works -, but, hidden in the middle of it all, camouflaging itself nicely with the vanilla extract in a way that one would really need to pay attention to realize, was a bottle containing an edible aphrodisiac concentrate - the wonders of same-day delivery allowed it to be dropped off at Cartman’s doorstep right that afternoon when he bought it in the morning. 

After being done with all the other ingredients in the bowl, following the instructions in the book to a tee - Cartman could fool around with many things, but food was not one of them -, Eric grabbed the tray with the liners he had set and transferred the mixture to them. After that, he picked up that one particular bottle, turning his attention to two specific tins closest to him in the tray, lined with red cases. The bottle had instructions in the back of it - thorough information about its content, advice about the amount that was to be used and general warnings -, but the cook was having none of that, instead dumping the liquid in the two tins until he felt satisfied. In his mind, the more effect it made, the easier for him.

When that was done, he carefully put the tray into the oven and moved on to other parts of the recipe.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

The next day, Eric Cartman was on a mission. Along with the usual backpack, he carried with him to school a small box that smelled faintly of vanilla. The cupcakes had turned out really dang nice, if he could say so himself, and now it was time to pacify a certain pair of lovebirds.

After going to the usual staircase, he was surprised to find that his target, the only one of those assholes he cared to see today, was not around - but it wasn’t without reason; ever since his outburst yesterday, most of the other guys had decided to leave Butters alone with his anger until the issue was resolved, so he got warned to take his sulking elsewhere because it was bringing everyone down. As soon as he found that out, Eric turned on his heels and continued through the hallways, leaving his other colleagues very confused.

Making his way to Butters’ locker, he found the blonde male unaccompanied, mumbling some nonsense as he picked up everything he needed for the upcoming classes.

“Butters! Hey, buddy.” Cartman approached him with a smile.

“Fuck off, Eric!” Butters slammed the door to his locker, startling everyone who dared to be around him.

“Woah, calm down dude, I just wanted to give you this.” Cartman opened the box in his hands and carefully picked one of the cupcakes that had the red liner, handing it to his infuriated friend. “Might make you feel a little better.”

“Oh- huh- Really? Thanks.” Butters seemed genuinely surprised that someone, no matter who, was being nice to him. He picked up the cupcake, taking a bite out of it right away and getting some of the whipped cream on the side of his mouth. “That’s awfully nice of ya. You’re a good person, ya know, Eric. UNLIKE SOMEONE I KNOW!” He said that last part too loud, facing the corridor, as if he expected you to be around so you could hear all about how much he hated you right now. Unfortunately, you were nowhere to be found - instead, he yelled that stuff right while a group of young freshman girls happened to be passing through, laughing about something. They jumped in fear, looking at him like he was a maniac, and quickened their steps to leave as soon as possible while whispering to each other.

“Yeah, yeah, Butters, I know, I’m amazing” Eric replied, absent-mindedly, setting his sights on the end of the corridor, planning his escape route. “Look, man, I gotta go, see you in class or whatever.” Not even saying a word more than the absolutely necessary, he left Butters’ side as well, this time looking for his next objective.

Luckily, he didn’t take too long to find it as well. Right as he turned the corner, you stood next to another set of lockers, next to Red and Wendy. As they talked eagerly about something, though, you kept to your silence, also dwelling on your fight with your ex-boyfriend. You just weren’t trying to make your anger everyone else’s problem was all, but the other girls knew better than to talk about it near you or ask you questions, lest a wrong word also have you snapping.

Cartman beelined to your group, and as you all saw him coming up, the happy chatter immediately turned into silence. “Hello, ladies”, he spoke, earning a raised eyebrow from you and a questionable stare from the two other girls. “Might I interest you in some cupcakes?”

Before anyone could answer, he opened the box in his hands again, carefully picking a cupcake and handing it to every member in your trio, making sure to give you the one with the red wrap. He had made sure to bring extra cupcakes just in case anyone else in the class might see him with them or ask about it, since just giving sweet treats to you and Butters and no one else would look extremely suspicious. The red liners were to separate the laced cupcakes from the others, so he wouldn’t give them to anyone else unknowingly, and among the colorful liners in the others, no one could see you and your ex getting the same color as nothing but a funny coincidence.

As he closed the box, though, you didn’t make a single movement, still staring at him with the baked good in your hands. “No need to thank me, you know. Aren’t you going to eat it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Your eyes narrowed at him. “You put your dick in this thing, didn’t you?” was the question that came out of your mouth. Red let out an “Ewwwww”.

“NO! Why would you think that?” He gasped, his eyes widening in surprise, like it was an absurd thing to even think about - even though it was definitely something he was capable of doing and everyone knew that. “Who do you think I am, some kind of psychopath?”

“Yes.” Your eyes went from him to the cupcake, turning it around in your hand, analyzing it for any obvious signs of tampering. “Farted on it? Put cum on the whipped cream? Is my mom dead on the filling?”

“No, no and NO! Christ, you do something once and all of a sudden it’s all people ever talk about.” He didn’t actually expect you to start asking so many questions - who questions free food? -, so he hadn’t taken the time to build up an actual excuse. “I just had too much batter and made a few extra to bring to class, can’t a guy just be nice anymore?”

 You waited a little bit more to see if he’d say anything, if he’d give away any evil plans. Unable to figure out anything, you took the leap of faith, getting the cupcake near your mouth and slowly taking a bite of it. The taste that your tongue could pick up - plain vanilla, whipped cream, a little bit of chocolate from the sprinkles on top - was good, but nothing out of the ordinary. Well, you weren’t expecting Cartman to be some kind of superb baker, and there wasn’t anything that struck you as odd, so you continued eating. Seeing this, the girls around you followed suit with eating theirs, since if you couldn’t find anything wrong with it they probably wouldn’t either.

“See? Pretty good, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m gonna go and give the rest away, bye.” He left before you could interrogate him any further.

“What a weirdo”, stated Red. Before you could dwell on the subject more, Wendy warned both of you about the time, and your trio started making your way to class.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

For the next couple of hours, Butters felt like he was about to die.

His whole body felt hot, to the point where he was building up a slight sweat. During this time of the year and up in the mountains, this concept felt absurd, so when he asked the classmates around him to see if anyone else felt the same way, he was met with confused stares and Kenny putting the back of his hand on Butters’ forehead to check his temperature. He was warm alright, but he could tell this wasn’t a fever because this particular warmth felt more intense in the lower part of his belly, irradiating through his body.

The worst part that came with it, though, was the hard-on. It had popped up about an hour into classes, throbbing like crazy, refusing to go down and urging him to take action. He thought about asking for the hall pass to go to the bathroom and masturbate, but decided against it - because that would mean getting up in front of the whole class and standing there where everyone could see him. At this point, after so long, it all started to feel really painful, so he resorted to just curling onto himself on the chair as best as he could, waiting for the bell to ring so he could leave without drawing too much attention.

All the way across the class, you weren’t faring too well, either - just way better at hiding it. Some strands of your hair were glued to your forehead from the sweat, and you fanned yourself with an old crumbled assignment you found in the bottom of your bag. Under your table where no one could see, you pressed your thighs against each other, rubbing them together as silently as possible to create even the tiniest bit of friction to relieve yourself. As much as you did, it wasn’t nearly enough.

During this whole ordeal, you and Butters would look across the room towards each other regularly - even though you were mad at each other, you were the only person he could think about at a time like this, and vice versa. Every once in a while, your gazes would cross, both with completely panicked stares. Oh what you’d give to know what he was thinking at those times. But then, either you or him would realize the other was staring, and you’d immediately turn to the blackboard and pretend you were staring at it the whole time.

The bell ringing to announce lunchtime couldn’t have come soon enough.

“Alright class, off to lunch, we’ll-” The teacher started her usual speech to send all of you off, but before she could finish, Butters got up from his desk and bolted out of the door in extreme hurry, the speed with which he left being so intense that it knocked his whole desk back as he left and all his belongings scattered to the ground. “- Oh, I guess someone’s really into Taco Tuesday.”

As everyone got up to leave for the canteen, you thought about making a quick detour to the bathroom, maybe you could sneak in a little DJing session in one of the stalls, if you kept your quiet, just enough to get yourself through the rest of the day. Before you could make your way there, however, your girl friends made a whole group around your desk, and you had yourself cornered. If you wanted to leave anywhere, they were absolutely going to follow, so you begrudgingly walked to lunch alongside them, still trying to keep your legs as close to each other as possible. You weren’t sure if you’d even survive the rest of the day at this rate.

You hoped that lunch time and the interactions that came with it could make you distracted unlike the quiet classroom, but you were deprived of that as well. No matter how much you tried to pay attention to the conversations the girls were having around you at the table, the heat in your lower abdomen was too strong to ignore, and your thoughts always went straight back to poundtown at any given chance. More than once you had hands waved and fingers snapped near your face because someone asked you a question and you didn’t realize it. 

Also, having scanned around the room with your eyes more than a couple of times like a turret looking for a target, you couldn’t find Butters anywhere in the canteen. You wanted anything from him, even his angry looks at this point were enough to get you going - your mind got busy drawing up all those detailed scenarios where he pinned you to the table, choked you, slapped your ass, pulled your hair, all that while pounding into you violently and calling you filthy names that you never thought you’d hear from his mouth, but that made sense in your anger. 

But he wasn’t there, and you had honestly started to worry. The way he left class earlier had you wondering, who was he hanging out with that made him leave in such a hurry? Was he with some other girl? You usually trusted Butters a lot, he worshipped the ground you walked on and never gave you any reason to doubt his loyalty, but now that you had broken up, God knows what kind of shenanigans he could be up to. You certainly didn’t want to imagine the worst; not only because of the implication of betrayal on his end and the idea that he could already be loving someone else so soon, but also because it would mean he was getting a bunch of action while you couldn’t even masturbate.

“Earth to (Y/N)!” You were once again thrown out of your train of thought by Wendy Testaburger, snapping her fingers close to your ear to draw your attention once more. 

“Wait, what was it again?”, you answered, looking around with your eyes focused on the peers closest to you. All the other girls at the table were staring back, some with anger in their eyes, some with concern.

“Ugh, nevermind. I’ll text you later, since you’re too good to listen to us today.” She made a dismissing motion with her hand. “The bell’s about to ring. Let’s head back.”

As your whole group got up to leave, you looked around the considerably less crowded cafeteria one more time, hoping to catch your ex lingering around, maybe he just came late for lunch? But unfortunately, he was God knows where still. You were expecting to catch some sights of him in class again, but that was unideal - the setting there was one of silence and concentration, two things that you had no intention of keeping up with.

You didn’t have to wait until then to see him, though. As soon as your group opened the cafeteria doors, he was waiting right on the other side of it, just waiting for you to leave for the hall. Coming up from your side, he pulled on the sleeve of your blouse to draw your attention. “Canitalktoyouplease?” was the sentence that left his mouth, almost too quick and slurred for you to catch.

“Huh?”

You turned to face him and the sight was almost absurd. Butters was usually well kept, his parents weren’t going to let him get out of the house looking less than presentable, but right now he was a whole mess. His hair was all shagged up and he was panting like he had just ran a marathon. The hairs closest to his forehead were wet and some droplets of transparent liquid were around it - could be sweat, the same problem you had, or he might’ve thrown some water on his face to cool himself down (which was also a great idea). He also had his jacket tied to his waist, which was weird considering it wasn’t hot this time of the year and he had been wearing it earlier. Did he spend the whole lunch period running track?

“Can- Can I talk to you, please?” He repeated more slowly this time, gripping your arm tight and making you wince from pain. He wasn’t aware of his own strength right now. Seeing the look on your face, he quickly removed his hand from your arm, but stayed still waiting for your answer.

“She doesn’t wanna talk right now, asshole!” Before you could even say anything, Red yelled out, moving right next to you and locking her arm on yours, to show him that you weren’t alone. “And it’s almost time for class anyway. Fuck off.” 

You loved Red McArthur, you really did. That was one of your best friends right there. You didn’t regret at all having told her everything about your fight with Butters, were extremely grateful for the support she had shown you throughout, and you’d surely be glad for her intervention in any other situation. However, she was the one that should be thankful right now - thankful that the knives in the school cafeteria were dull, otherwise you’d have picked up one and stabbed her on the spot. You and your ex were still in a rift, sure, but he was the person you wanted to talk to the most right now and she was denying you that. Even if unknowingly, she was currently being the ultimate cockblocker, or pussy-blocker?

You took a deep breath, something that the other girls probably took as an attempt to dial down your anger at Butters, but that was in reality so you wouldn’t yell at your best friend in front of everyone else. “It’s alright, Red. Go on without me, we won’t take long.” You spoke as calmly as you could, waving them away with your hand and taking your arm away from hers.

As soon as you did so, Butters took you by the wrist and started to power walk in a completely different direction from everyone else, and you had a hard time matching his footsteps while trying not to bump into the groups of students everywhere. You wondered where the hell he was even taking you in such a hurry. For a while, he also seemed confused - he looked towards every door as you went, as if searching for something himself -, but then he made a decision, taking you up two sets of stairs to the third floor of the school building, where he surprised you again by pulling you inside the handicapped restroom.

Unlike the other toilets in the school, the ones reserved for handicapped people were single-user, and since there weren’t many disabled students that were willing to go all the way to the third floor to pee, this one was actually always seen to be in great condition. It was quite spacious to make it easy to maneuver wheelchairs, and also away from many of the actual occupied classrooms. Whatever it was that Butters wanted to discuss with you, he clearly didn’t want anyone else listening.

While he turned to lock the door, you took a few small steps towards the other side of the restroom, standing in the middle of it. You crossed your arms and straightened your posture, trying to look as stiff and unsympathetic as possible. Maybe it was overkill, you had agreed to be here so that already sent the message that you were at least willing to listen, but you didn’t want him to think for a second that he still had your heart on a chokehold like he did.

He took a deep breath as he turned to face you, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “Look, I know you’re mad at me and I’m mad at you and you prolly don’t wanna see me none, but I have no one else to turn to! I need your help!” He blurted out, his arms in front of him like he was ready to push you back if you were to become aggressive.

You frowned. “YOU need MY help? With what?” 

“I… I can’t say it, okay?” He was fighting with his thoughts now, knowing that he’d need to speak up, but couldn’t bring himself to. “It’s a heck of a thing and I can’t really explain it and I don’t even know if it can be explained-”

“Stop with the rambling!” You stomped your foot on the ground to alert him. “Either you tell me what this is about or I’m leaving!”

At this moment, he averted his eyes to the ground, avoiding your gaze as if that would conceal his feelings of absolute shame. His hands moved to his waist, untying his jacket and letting it fall to the floor, and the reason why he wasn’t wearing it immediately became clear - he had a noticeable tent in the front of his pants, which the sleeves of the jacket previously hung in front of, covering the view. 

As soon as you saw, it took you every little bit of restraint you had not to immediately drop to your knees, free his dick of its confinements and take it in your mouth to suck him dry. You felt your saliva building up, ready to make it as sloppy as possible too. But it would mean a complete lack of self-respect on your part to give in without at least him properly asking for it (you could faintly hear the voice of Red in your head scolding you for that), and you also needed to negotiate your own release, so you just swallowed it all back and waited as he built up the courage to continue talking.

“I tried jacking off in the stalls, watching porn on my phone, heck, even meditating to make it go away… It’s not enough. Nothing is. I NEED YOU.” He grabbed both your wrists with his hands and stared deep into your eyes as he pleaded. “I’ll do anything you want if you help me. If you never wanna see me again, I’ll leave! Forever! Just please help me! I can’t stand this anymore!”

You were far from wanting him to leave forever, not when he begged like this, looking like a hungry lost puppy. The poor man was so overwhelmed by his own arousal that he couldn’t notice the fact that you had taken a few steps towards him to close the distance between you instead of widening it. “Anything?” You murmured, to which he nodded vigorously. 

You wriggled your wrists out of his hold and took his hand in yours, guiding it towards your crotch. Your other hand quickly opened the buttons and zipper in your pants, and you pulled it down just a little, just barely halfway down your butt. The wetness between your legs had created a damp spot in your panties, and when you guided Butters’ hand to feel it, the mere brush of his hand over your extremely sensitive area was enough to make your breath hitch even through the fabric. He noticed it immediately, and you saw his eyes widen. “I believe we can help each other.”

He needed no more explanation, maybe due to fear that talking any longer would make you change your mind. So he quickly clashed his mouth onto yours, needy and desperate, wrapping both his arms around you with unusual strength - whatever it is that was driving him mad was also making him act differently than what you’re used to, but you were here for it. As you kissed him back, you felt his usually soft lips to be slightly raw - he had probably been biting them in his anxiety earlier. You didn’t have a second to dwell on it, though, because his tongue swiftly started to brush over yours, an invitation for a dance that you gladly accepted.

Still completely glued to your mouth, Butters started to take small steps, which made you walk backwards, all the way to the other side of the restroom. As your back touched the wall, you felt one of the horizontal metal grab rails under you. You shifted so more of your ass was on top of it, not completely seated (the bar was too narrow for it), but just giving you the extra support in case you needed it. The current position had you firm on your right foot, while the other hovered slightly above ground. Your legs being more open also allowed for Butters to get even closer with his hips, his erection so close to your pussy, separated only by the clothes you both wore.

In one swift motion, Butters hiked up both your blouse and your bra, not even caring about the back clasps, taking everything off and exposing your breasts to the slightly cold air of the restroom as well as to his hungry gaze. The latter wasn’t true for much long, though - he closed his eyes and dove immediately with his mouth to your left nipple, sucking on it and flicking the hardened bud with the tip of his tongue, while his right hand took care of the other breast, massaging it softly. Your nipples were already sensitive by nature, but right now they felt connected to all other nerves in your body, and the stimulation had you whimpering in pleasure.

Your lover started to alternate between one breast and the other with his mouth, giving both the same amount of love and attention - wherever his mouth wasn’t, one of his hands was sure to be, kneading the soft flesh and flicking your peaks slightly. The other hand would then be running around your chest, arms and belly, feeling your soft skin and making up for lost time. 

On your end, one of your hands grabbed hard on the metal rail below you, even if that wouldn’t do you much to make you stable. The other ran through Butters’ hair, caressing it - a type of caring behavior that almost felt out of place considering the borderline sinful thoughts you had all day and the situation you found yourself in right now, but that was doing wonders for him, since it made him even more eager to keep loving on your tits.

You could also feel his hips rutting towards plain air near you, as he tried to satiate his throbbing dick even a little bit. Not wanting to deny him any part of this experience when he was treating you so right, you moved one of your legs closer to him, putting your knee between his legs and allowing him to grind on your thigh. He took the offer immediately and responded by growling against your breast and sending some more shivers through your body with the vibrations.

The new stimulus had Butters going wild. He was getting more feral with his treatment of your body - taking your nipples between his fingers, tugging at them and twisting slightly. He started to graze your bud with his teeth, which soon turned into full-on love bites all across your nipples and breasts, the red patches not looking so jarring now that your whole skin was so flushed, but they’d certainly be a nice keepsake later.

When you started to feel that familiar tension in your muscles, the pleasure in your nipples spreading like a flame under your skin, it came as a surprise. You hadn’t ever climaxed from just him working your nipples before - hell, was that even possible? -, and it had sneaked up on you, first feeling like if lightning was gentle, an electric tingle all over your body that sparked like fireworks. Then there was no denying the well-known wave of pleasure that hit you like a tsunami, crashing your whole world around you and making your knees buckle. 

Sensing your loss of balance in front of him, Butters quickly let go of your breasts and wrapped his arms around your waist. You wouldn’t have fallen either way, catching yourself in the metal bar behind you with a firm grip, but the consideration was appreciated. As he looked at you with a worried expression and breathing through his mouth anxiously, you felt the walls of your pussy spasming again and more slick dripping in your panties. 

“You okay?” His eyes ran through your body, looking for anything that might be wrong, and coming up short. You were absolutely perfect as always.

“More than.” You purred with a smile, giving him a brief kiss. When your mouths parted ways, he tilted his head closer to yours ever so slightly, almost as if chasing your lips with his. Savoring his yearning, you pucker up your lips and make a kissing sound, before tugging at his shirt. “You’re gonna kill me like this though. Just let me feel you already.”

It was his time to smile. “Okay, honey”, he hummed, fixing his posture - and you closed your eyes happily, not having noted how much you missed him calling you pet names until now. He locked mouths with you again and his hands drifted down between you two, pulling further down the hem of your jeans and tracing your slit through the soaked panties, earning from you a sharp moan.

His mouth left yours so he could focus on ridding you of the rest of your outfit, and you held down on the grab rail with your other hand as he lifted your legs – first one, then the other so you could keep stability - to remove your shoes, pants and undergarments completely. You would’ve helped him to make the job quicker, but he seemed to be enjoying the ride now that he had you back in his embrace. Once he had fully taken everything off, he planted a quick kiss on the inside of your lifted thigh, making you shudder.

Slowly and carefully letting go of your leg, Butters took another look at your full body as you stood there naked for him. He wanted to kiss every inch of you, show you as much of his love as possible, but there was also this overpowering lust. Not wanting to spend another second more not touching you, he made quick work of his own pants and boxers while you grabbed onto his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it somewhere and allowing his bare chest to touch yours. You were both drenched in sweat at this point, and your naked bodies basically glued together like that, but in the haze none of that mattered.

Butters lifted your left leg up again and held your thigh firmly against his hip with his right arm, while his other hand stroked his shaft slowly as he moved to position it against your entrance. You felt your cunt clench tight as the head of his cock breached your folds, and you were sure he could feel it too, as his breath hitched and his eyes fluttered when you tried to look at them. “Need me that bad, huh?”, he murmured, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “I need you too, honey. Can’t be without you no more.”

With that, he thrusted into you in one swift motion - your surreal wetness making it easy for him to bottom out several inches deep inside of you, the familiar sting you felt as he stretched you being eased by how aroused you already were. The both of you moaned almost in unison at this very welcomed sensation, and in a moment of pseudo-clarity you remembered that you couldn’t be loud like this, a realization that did not seem to grace Butters as he started to push out and back into you with more fully open-mouthed moans. You quickly put one of your hands in the back of his head and push it towards the crook of your neck, where he starts to place quick but strong suckles and bites, not caring for - actually downright wanting - the marks they’d leave.

“Shh, honey” You whispered with the softest of voices, not wanting him to get discouraged, but still needing to give him a reminder. “Can’t get loud in here or they’ll catch us. Just do this for me, okay?” 

It was hard for you to heed your own warning, though - with each quick and hard slam of his hips, plus his assault on your neck, you wanted nothing more than to have him hear just how good he was doing. You settle for biting your own lip and keeping your moans in your mouth, which to him seemed to sound even hotter - as he sped up the pace of his thrusts with newfound energy, getting high on the sound of your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his dick plunging inside your weeping cunt.

The force with which his hips struck your body had you sliding up and down against the wall, your tits bouncing with the movement. His hot breath on your neck made the fine hairs on your whole body stand up, and your back arched, which made him hit that sweet spot inside of you even more perfectly now. Needing to be closer, closer, you let your hands go from the grab rails where they had settled before and wrap your arms around Butters’ neck, relying on him like your last connection to the Earth now. You were glad he had enough strength to hold you with just the lower half of your body pinned to the cold bathroom tiles while still jackhammering into you.

As Butters raised his head from your neck to take a brief look at you through his half-lidded eyes, he used a lot of self-restraint to not cum on the spot. You were a whole mess: disheveled hair, face moist with sweat, a soft reddish tint spread through your whole body, but more prominent on your cheeks, nose, and breasts. You weren’t staring back at him, eyes tight shut as the feeling of his cock inside of you distracted you from using any of your other senses. He wanted to kiss your rosy puffy lips again, but wouldn’t risk disturbing the pretty noises that came out of your throat as you tried so hard to not let out the loud moans you wanted to. “Yeah, that’s it, baby... You’re so… good to me...” He laid his head back on the crook of your neck, but didn’t go back to biting - instead, he inhaled deeply, taking all of your scent in, your faint perfume that he loved mixed with your sweat and… a hint of vanilla? “Lemme make you… feel even better…” 

His last sentence slurred into nonsense, but in the blur you barely registered it. You also didn’t even notice how he sneaked his left hand between your bodies, coating his thumb with the splattered juices around your cunt before moving it up and rubbing quick circles in your clit, increasing your pleasure in an almost overwhelming way. You felt a sharp sting in your lip and a metallic taste - in your efforts to not make any noise, you had bitten your lip so hard it broke skin. The pain, however, was quickly overshadowed by Butters’ ministrations, and you slapped one of your hands over your mouth to silence yourself, leaning with your back against the wall again.

It wasn’t like any past fuck you ever had. Everything was heightened; You heard every slap of his skin against yours and all the little sharp breaths both of you took as you tried to avoid being too loud in your pleasure, you could feel every single vein in his cock squeezing through your tight walls, and you saw whole galaxies even through your closed eyes. 

As that coil inside of your belly was getting tighter and tighter, so were your walls against Butters’ cock - and you knew that had to be catching up to him, as he started to lose the pace on his thrusts, and the muscle in his arms and legs seemed to become even more tense. “‘m- I- can’t hold much longer like this, sweets!” It seemed almost impossible for him to get the words out, having to say them through quick breaths as he got close to his release himself. “You’re just… too good…”

Then there was no warning as he let out a loud growl and his hips hit your body with one final deep slam, and you felt his dick pulsating as he filled the deepest part of you with his hot seed. The thumb in his left hand, however, still flicked your clit viciously, and so it didn’t take much longer for you to come undone, your cunt gripping his throbbing dick as the pleasure washed over your body for a second time.

As both of you dissolved into each other’s bodies, you found it in yourself to take his face in your shaky hands and press his lips to yours once more. Unlike your previous kisses of today, though, this moment was much more kind and full of tenderness, feeling exactly like the ones you shared throughout your relationship with him. You both felt loved and cared for, and while that rough fuck session took care of the needs of your physical bodies, the kiss took care of your souls.

You only dared part your mouths this time when it became necessary to breathe, and both of you sported soft smiles after you did, tired, but happy. You started using one of your hands to brush back through your fingers the multiple small strands of hair glued to his forehead, while the other caressed his cheek. He leaned into your touch, resting his hands on your waist. His dick was softening, but he didn’t feel keen on pulling out just yet, relishing the closeness of your bodies like this.

“I love you, Leo.” You finally broke the ice after a couple of minutes like this, giving him a peck on the forehead, to draw his attention back to Earth.

“Geez, by now I sure hope so!” You couldn’t help but giggle at his ever present sincerity. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

As you smiled and took note of your actual environment for the first time in a while, an idea came to mind. “Wanna get away from here?” You already knew what his answer would be to this offer, but you wanted to make your intentions clear nonetheless. “We can find someplace else where we can make some real noise.”

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

You and Butters didn’t come back for the rest of classes, and nobody in school had an answer to where you were, either. All texts sent to you or him went unanswered for that day, and your friends had no idea what happened.

What they could certainly say they saw, though, was the pair of you arriving at school together the next morning with a pep in both your steps, chatting away and smiling as you held hands. Everyone was left speechless, and some even questioned if the last few days had even been real. 

The only person who didn’t seem confused was Eric Cartman, his nonchalant behavior earning him plenty of questioning from the other dudes the following days, but he refused to admit to anything. And why would he, anyway? You and his friend were back together, happy as could be, the sun was up in the sky, everything was right. And, if it ever stopped being that way, he had a certain tiny bottle in the back of his wardrobe to sort things out again.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[niniluvsainz]

labyrinth ☽ ln4

masterlist!

in which... he has one friendship bracelet and a dream.

pairings... lando norris x fem!singer!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter (but you can imagine reader however you'd like!)

warnings... simp lando, cursing, reader is insinuated to be american in one comment but you can just skip past that, use of y/n, oscar is trying so hard to not be noticed as a y/n fan, reader is basically taylor swift, you probably don't know when reader and lando get together bcs even i dont know but i added dates so maybe that helps?, oh and labyrinth the version that tay sang at the eras tour on the piano bcs that is superior.

author's note... yea we're burning tf out of the whole taylor / travis situation, but i'm adding my twist to it hehe

lando: it's today people.

max: WE KNOW

george: someone is moody.

max: lando, if by some chance you get to interact with her, don't say anything stupid. you've waited too long to fuck it up.

pierre: oscar, how much does lando bombard you with anything related to y/n?

oscar: i've listened to her entire discography without my consent. and i know her entire lore.

carlos: mate just have fun tonight

alex: lily said if you by some miracle get to speak to y/n to tell her that her biggest fan, lily, is her biggest fan

lando: great. oscar i'm picking you up at four.

logan: wait OSCAR'S GOING?

oscar: again, against my will.

nando: if you get to say anything to y/n tell her im a big fan

charles: NANDO TOO?

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17 august 2024.

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others

yourusername uk i loved you too much! 🩵 thank you so much for an amazing tour. the past year has been absolutely magical, and i' so happy i got to spend it with you all. i don't know, maybe add a few more shows for next year? 🩶

view all comments.

user1 mother

user2 WE LOST THE OUTSIDE AND CASTLES CRUMBLING UK YOU WILL SEE HELL.

↳ user3 HOW DARE SHE MAKE THESE THE LAST SONGS FOR THE TOUR

user4 how does a 24 year old sell out stadiums internationally. i've been with homegirl since she was in her country yeehaw era 🥲

↳ user5 she is the moment. she is the music industry.

↳ user6 so real

gracieabrams loved opening for u bbg 💞

↳ yourusername I LOVE YOU SO MUCH 💖

milomanheim great work out there lil sis 🖤

↳ yourusername thank u for being there every step of the way bsf 🥹

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vanityfair

liked by charles_leclerc and others

vanityfair formula one driver, lando norris, has been spotted at y/n l/n's headline tour! the british mclaren driver has been associated with l/n after publicly announcing he's a major fan. oscar piastri (not pictured), the other mclaren f1 driver, also attended the concert with his teammate. link in bio for more updates of celebrities spotted at this world-revolting concert.

comments have been limited.

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landonorris added to their story!

caption: i'm deceased.

replies;

↳ carlossainz55 amazing, mate! show me videos when we see each other again!

↳ maxverstappen1 i sure hope after tonight you'll stop talking about her.

↳ charles_leclerc lowkey...jealous

↳ pierregasly i already miss the lando before he went to this concert.

↳ logansargeant american talent rahhh 🦅

↳ georgerussell63 haha she didn't talk to u.

↳ oscarpiastri don't tell me you caught my screaming during dont blame me.

↳ alex_albon so did you talk to her?

↳ fernandoalo_oficial i liked her song 'nonsense'.

---

"Lando, great qualifying for you today." The interviewer spoke whilst Lando adjusted the microphone in front of him. "It seems you had a great summer break, and it helped you recharge for the rest of the season, we hope. The internet was crazy when they saw pictures of you," Lando laughed nervously, as he knew what was about to be said.

"Tell us, how was summer break. We of course know what happened, but what did you feel was good about the break?"

"Er, yeah." Lando adjusted his cap. "I had an amazing break, got to see the family. And my idol." The blush was recognizable on the Papaya driver. "Y/N L/N. I went to her concert in the UK, and it was an enjoyable moment." Lando knew if he went further, he would just ramble on and on about Y/N.

"But, did you get to interact with her?" This was the question that made the British's smile falter.

"No, I did not, unfortunately." If one dream (other than being in Formula One and winning a WDC) would to come true, it would be to even interact with you. You were his idol, the person he grew up listening to. From when you were thirteen and releasing country songs, changing to pop, and to this day he was forever your number one supporter. No other person would be able to change his love for you.

"I actually made a friendship bracelet with my phone number on it, and another one with the letters L, N and my racing number. Just to keep to myself. The one with my number was for me to trade with her." Lando chuckled. "I know she probably doesn't speak to people before or after the concert. I mean, singing for three hours-you have to save every ounce of your voice for that. At the time, I took it personally. But now, I got to understand."

"And if you were to say something to her right now, what would you say?" The interviewer asked again.

"Um..." Lando thought about his words carefully. "That she's my absolute daylight. And I hope one day she comes to a race."

"Thank you, Lando." The interviewer said, before Lando was off the camera and another driver took over.

---

25 august 2024.

etentertainment

liked by milomanheim and others

etentertainment after mclaren's f1 driver, lando norris, expressed he went to y/n l/n's "the eras tour" but didn't have the opportunity to speak with her before or after the concert, the singer-songwriter has now been spotted at the zandvoort grand prix.

📷 : gettyimages

view all comments.

user7 OH MY GOD OH MY GOD WHAT WORLD ARE WE LIVING IN

user8 I'VE BEEN WAITING ON MISS L/N TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT LANDO

user9 MISS MA'AM STARTED FOLLOWING SOME OF THE DRIVERS TODAY AS WELL

↳ user10 omg y/n in her f1 wag era 🫢

user11 she clearly is losing spotlight in the entertainment world so she has to seek help elsewhwere

↳ user12 i dont know maybe being the youngest artist to cover the top fifteen spots in the charts, sell out stadiums for her tour, is constantly being heard everywhere because of her songwriting or her songs in general all while still finishing her studies at university seems pretty successful to me but i mean, why would a thirty-year old man think that's more successful than sitting on a couch all day having something shitty to say about a woman who is thriving in life.

↳ user11 i work from the office.

↳ user13 dad, why are you fighting on the internet again.

---

oscarpiastri added to their story!

caption: lando's live reaction to seeing yourusername in the paddock

replies;

↳ maxverstappen1 no he fell to his knees mid-paddock when we were walking back to start the race

↳ user14 OMG Y/N IS IN THE PADDOCK?!

↳ user15 lando is seeing stars rn

↳ user16 he literally said in the interview yesterday after quali he wanted y/n to come to a race, AND HIS MF WISH COMES TRUE THE VERY NEXT DAY?

↳ yourusername awee where is he i wanna meet him 🫶

---

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername and others

maxverstappen1 lando fell to his knees seconds after this picture was taken. checo tripped over him. y/n helped them up, and lando threw checo out so he could be the only one to hold y/n.

view all comments.

landonorris no that was all you.

comments have been limited.

---

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others

yourusername oh look at that

tagged: mclaren, landonorris

view all comments.

maxverstappen1 he actually made dinner good. it wasnt poisonous this time.

↳ landonorris i always cook well. you just don't like my impeccable classy taste.

carlossainz55 thank you for coming to zandvoort y/n i dont think i could've handled any more of lando's horrible cooking skills

↳ yourusername you all had yukitsunoda0511 ? isn't he the chef around here

↳ yukitsunoda0511 every one of them don't understand food. i'm unappreciated here.

↳ yourusername i appreciate you yuki 🥺

user17 i hope she gets close to the grid

user18 why do i lowk want her to date lando 🤭

↳ user19 girl we all do

charles_leclerc it was so nice meeting you, y/n!

↳ yourusername likewise, charles! but i think i liked your girlfriend better ;)

↳ alexandrasaintmleux im all yours babe

oscarpiastri it was fun meeting u or wtv

↳ yourusername lando sent me the videos and i will release them.

↳ oscarpiastri YOU WOULDN'T DARE.

---

7 september 2024.

kellypiquet added to their story!

caption: good day with good people

tagged: maxverstappen1, yourusername, landonorris

---

1 october 2024.

Another interview with Teen Vogue you were currently attending. It was a video for "Answering Fan Questions". The interview was going smoothly, until you got to a question that almost made you giggle.

How did you end up attending the Dutch Grand Prix this year? You laughed lightly, unable to hide the small blush appearing over your nose and cheeks.

"Yeah, I had the opportunity to attend a Formula One Race this year. It was very fun."

Did you know one of the drivers attended one of your concerts? One of the team members from the magazine asked behind the camera.

"Two drivers," you corrected before trying to divert the answer back to the initial question. "And yes I did know of their attendance. I didn't at the time of the concert, but when I did, I got a message from another driver. Max Verstappen." You hid your face in between your hands because you knew you were about to look like a bloated tomato.

"Um, yeah--and he messages me on Instagram. He's like 'Y/N' and 'please answer me', and sent about ten messages before I noticed the messages. So I text back and I say 'oh hi'," you mimicked a high pitch voice. "And he ends up telling me how devastated Lando was that he didn't get to talk to me. So because he, and the rest of the grid, were absolutely annoyed about Lando talking about me, he invited me to the Dutch Grand Prix, because it was also his home race." The smile couldn't be stopped from spreading on your face. "And of course I'm sure the world of F1 saw how Max and Lando reacted. One fell and the other was crying," you laughed.

"But yeah, it started as a favor to his mate. And now we're all a tight circle. I think I have discovered my found family."

---

10 october 2024.

landonorris

liked by mclaren and others

landonorris oh my god! she's insane! she wrote a song about me... on the piano!

view all comments.

maxverstappen1 stop saying it. we get it.

↳ landonorris UH OH, OH NO, OH LOOK! i dont care

yourusername my number one supporter 😍

↳ landonorris since ‘09 baby 😘

charles_leclerc i helped her too

↳ landonorris um, am i supposed to thank you?

↳ user20 IM CRYUING

oscarpiastri can you both get off my timeline

↳ user21 remember oscuh, they both have blackmail material

↳ mclaren you're actually all about to traumatize him for life with these blackmail videos (we're gonna blast them at the next race)

georgerussell63 ew.

↳ yourusername shut up you literally are always all lovey-dovey-cuddly with carmie

↳ landonorris oh we also have blackmail of you and carmen

↳ georgerussell63 you are speaking with the blackmail ceo of f1, you know?

user22 AHH PARENTS FINALLY TOGETHER

user23 BEEN HERE SINCE KARTING LANDO SAID HE WAS A FAN OF Y/N

↳ user24 OMG SAME 😭

---

20 october 2024.

yourusername added to their story!

caption: austin time 🇺🇸 🏈, hacked bitches landonorris

comments have been limited.

---

12 november 2024.

yourusername

liked by landonorris and others

yourusername oh, i'm falling in love. thank u for being my muse, little lando. labyrinth out tonight @ midnight in honor of your birthday, noodles <3

view all comments.

pierregasly i cried.

↳ yourusername you screamed actually

↳ francisca.cgomes sent the video, babe 😘

lewishamilton so happy for you both

↳ yourusername i love you father

↳ lewishamilton go tell fernando that, i'm not that old

↳ fernandoalo_oficial yourusername hi lando didn't tell you but i'm a big fan

↳ yourusername i love you father <33

carlossainz55 lando was bold. he took a string with beads and was determined. i'll give him creds for that

↳ yourusername right like i had no faith in the man

↳ landonorris i can read the comments, you know

landonorris still starstruck but i love you so much

↳ yourusername i love you 👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

↳ landonorris i dont like that emoji

alex_albon lily when are u writing a song about me

↳ lilymhe are the playlists i make with half of them including all of y/n's discography not enough for me to show you my love?

↳ user25 you're so real for that lily

logansargeant now that we're basically related, can you add more shows so i can go to a concert

↳ logansargeant oscar stop hacking my account

↳ oscarpiastri i didnt do that!!!

↳ yourusername staring at you like a damn hawk when you were typing and i got the notification. just admit u like my music is it that hard?

↳ landonorris i will catch him singing one of your songs. one day.

↳ oscarpiastri good luck.

↳ logansargeant soo are you adding any more shows?

idk maybe thinking of doing a small drabble of how oscar and lando were at y/n's concert? i feel like i built up that suspense lmao but hope u enjoy 🫶

tags: @ultraviolencesam , @topguncultleader , @peachiicherries , @towkstiles

(strikethrough means i couldn't tag you, or your user couldn't be found)

add yourself to the taglist!

[gatitties]

War & crack II

—Task Force 141 x young!reader

—Summary: more headcanons with your team as you being chaotic

—Warnings: none

Part One / Halloween special

yeah, I didn't finish my brainstorm and I bring more things from this sudden idea 🫣

─ Listen, you have a lot of problems.

─ And we are not talking about your jokes about death biting your ass anymore.

─ Price's going to go bald before he retires, how the hell are you still alive today? It is a mystery to them.

─ Everyone noticed during a mission where they had to stay in a safe house for a few weeks that you had the same concentration as a fly, empty thoughts behind your eyes lost in a distant point of reality.

─ You looked like another person when you were a simple civilian, Gaz had to pull you so you wouldn't get run over a couple of times for not looking at the traffic lights.

─ Price needs to put on videos of crunchy slime or Subway Surfers so you could hear what he was saying, (Soap won't admit that it also helps him focus).

─ They discovered that you can sleep in any position, seriously, whether it's standing up, in the bathtub, your body bent in an unusual way, now they understand why you complain so much about back pain.

─ Everyone looks in silence when they give you little impulses to do stupid things, like, last time you were walking to see the area and you found a woman walking her dog, you asked her if you could pet it and when she said yes you pet the woman instead of the dog, Ghost dragged you away murmuring an apology.

─ The following days they decided that you would stay at home, they simply fed your stupidity, every time they arrived you received them with the phrase 'where have you been, loca?' while playing a wolf howl in the background.

─ Luckily it was time to return to the base, during the trip you were listening to music, despite having your headphones you had the volume so high that everyone could hear it, Soap stuck to you because he liked what you were listening, the others decided to drown out the noise with some light talk.

─ Once you returned to the base you relaxed, returning to your working state, you focused again, which relieved all.

─ One day they decided that you needed a nickname since everyone had it except you, so they began to investigate your record as a cadet and even your years in the military school.

─ You kicked and fought because you were something else a while ago, but it was inevitable to find an old report where it said that you were violent with some classmates.

─ And in your anger for probably some nonsense, you ended up biting the ankles of a guy, or a group of guys, or even one of your lieutenants...

─ Soap and Gaz cried with laughter because there was a video of what was evidenced and you looked like a rabid chihuahua attacking its worst enemy.

─ Nibbles, at least it was temporary because you didn't entirely agree with the nickname.

— Since you were now known like that, you went from friendly punches to friendly bites.

─ Once you got kidnapped and you returned to the base the next day because your captors couldn't stand having you sing old Justin Bieber songs or listening to you talk about all your obsessions, they tried to cover your mouth but you just kept making too much noise, the information was not worth it.

─ You arrived in the middle of the meeting they had to prepare the rescue, having the courage to enter the room asking who they were trying to rescuing.

─ Price casually replied that they were looking for you until he did a double take, realizing you were there.

─ You were buried in a mass of muscles after the realization.

─ When you're depressed at random times (because you don't understand how your brain works and you feel bad out of nowhere), everyone will quickly notice, like even though you're not the most talkative person all the time, you usually drop some stupid comment, but on your bad days you are simply a piece of flesh and bones that walks without knowing where it's going.

─ The first time they saw you like this they tried to do something to cheer you up, Price gave you a few days off hoping your mood wasn't due to work overload, he even wrote some of your reports.

─ Soap bought stickers and decorations to your liking to decorate your prosthesis, he also told you that he could draw you a design to have your personalized arm.

─ Gaz tried to talk to you but you just didn't want to open your mouth, he chose to just keep you silent company, maybe you hug him, you need a little physical support.

─ Ghost will leave objects scattered around knowing that you would find them, knowing that they were things that you liked or had been looking for (because the poor guy always has to pick up what you forget around the common room).

— Nothing seemed to work until a stray kitten snuck in and lit up your face, so the easy answer was any baby animal would brighten your day, it was free therapy.

— You once dyed the boys' clothes pink by accident, but at least you told them that now they could go see Barbie with you.

— You promised you'd take them to see Oppenheimer, and that's why they agreed.

— You created a group chat just to send shitpost and teach them the meme path.

— Price just leaves it on seen, Ghost has the group muted, Gaz answers from time to time and Soap is the most active, he learns fast about today's shitpost.

— You really resist the urge to trim Price's beard to make it heart-shaped.

— You use the radio to sing parts of songs when you take too long to jump into action, Price scolds you for it.

— You complain that he seems constantly in a bad mood and you open a profile for him on every dating app you know, even on Grindr.

— You found Ghost's profile browsing Tinder and Soap's profile on Grindr... you decided to use it as a weapon in case you needed any favors.

— Gaz caught you red-handed, but you made a deal and he wouldn't say anything if he can profit from the manipulation.

— You hide it like you're hiding war crimes.

— Why does Price have so many likes from single moms?

[athenasdaydreams]

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: Remus loves christmas for many reasons, but his favourite reason might be you.

chapter warnings: mention of food, other than that not any to my knowledge!!

A/N: merry christmas!! i guess i have to listen to the people of tumblr and write another one... yay

At the young age of 6 years old, Remus John Lupin knew one thing; he loved Christmas. While every day was a constant reminder of his... condition, Christmas was his chance to be normal. His mother would bake sugar cookies and brownies with him, while his father would use magic to string old christmas lights across their small house. His favourite part, however, was not the gifts, or the decorations. It was chocolate. Remus loved chocolate in any form it came in, and in winter, there was no shortage of it. Hot chocolate, peppermint bark, festive chocolate frogs his father would buy for him, Remus adored christmas for this reason.

When Remus went to Hogwarts, his love for christmas only increased. Surrounded by friends who entertained him with games of wizard's chess and card games, he had more to look forward to when the first snowfall of the year happened. Remus loved the way you loved christmas as well. Your sweet disposition only shone brighter during the holiday season. Whether you helped a first year put his ornament higher on the gryffindor common room's christmas tree, or shared your homemade treats with kids whose parents were far to busy to make any, you were just the most perfect person on earth, like an angel that descended from heaven.

On his fourth Christmas holiday spent at Hogwarts, Remus couldn’t help but watch you from the corner of the common room, pretending to be engrossed in the book resting on his lap. You were laughing as you helped a third-year untangle a string of enchanted fairy lights that kept trying to loop themselves into knots. The sound of your laugh—light and genuine—made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“Oi, Moony!” Sirius’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. “Are you going to make that move, or are you just planning to stare at her until next Christmas?” Sirius smirked, leaning back in his chair, a knowing look plastered on his face.

James snickered beside him, flicking a wizard’s chess piece that had been knocked over in the chaos of their ongoing game. “Don’t be too hard on him, Padfoot. Christmas is the time for love and all that nonsense, isn’t it?”

Remus flushed, ducking his head to hide the redness creeping up his cheeks. “I wasn’t staring,” he muttered, though the heat in his face betrayed him.

“Oh, sure,” Peter chimed in, grinning as he picked up one of the chocolate frogs from a plate nearby. “Because it’s totally normal to sit with a chessboard in front of you for twenty minutes without moving a single piece.”

Before Remus could come up with a defense, you approached the group, holding a tray of what looked like freshly baked gingerbread cookies. “Anyone want some? I tried a new recipe, and I think they turned out pretty well,” you said, smiling as you offered the plate.

Remus’s heart skipped a beat as you leaned closer to him, holding out the tray. “Here, Remus. I know you like chocolate, so I added a little drizzle on these ones.”

He stared at the cookies for a moment, then at you, his brain struggling to form coherent words. “Thank you,” he managed, his voice quieter than he intended. He took one, the warmth of your smile making his insides feel like melted chocolate.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Smooth, Moony. Really smooth.”

You laughed softly at their antics, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, enjoy, everyone. Let me know what you think.” And with that, you turned to help another group of students decorating by the fireplace.

Remus watched you walk away, the cookie forgotten in his hand. James leaned over and whispered, “Mate, you’re going to have to say something eventually. Preferably before we graduate.”

But Remus didn’t need their teasing to know what was on his mind. You had a way of making every part of Christmas brighter, and he couldn’t help but think that you were the best gift he’d ever have the privilege of knowing.

By the next Christmas, the common room was alive with festive cheer once more, and this time, you and Remus sat together by the fire like old friends—though to Remus, you were so much more than that.

It had been a year since that quiet, awkward conversation, and in that time, you and Remus had grown closer in a way that felt effortless. He no longer hesitated to sit beside you in the common room or join you for study sessions in the library. You’d developed a quiet, easy camaraderie that made him feel like he belonged in a way he hadn’t since arriving at Hogwarts.

This Christmas, though, felt different.

“Are you winning, Moony?” you teased, leaning over to glance at his game of wizard’s chess with Sirius.

“Not even close,” he admitted with a wry smile. His knight was just smashed to bits by Sirius’s queen, and his remaining pieces seemed to be shaking with dread.

“Poor knight,” you said with mock sympathy. “He never stood a chance.”

Sirius grinned. “I’m ruthless. Everyone knows that.”

Remus rolled his eyes but chuckled, turning to you. “I think my pieces have officially given up. Care to save me by distracting Sirius?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh no, I’m terrible at chess. But I can offer you some chocolate for moral support.”

Reaching into the small tin you’d brought with you, you held out a neatly wrapped piece. Remus accepted it with a quiet “thanks,” and as he unwrapped it, he couldn’t help but marvel at how thoughtful you always were.

“Do you ever stop being nice?” he asked softly, almost to himself.

You tilted your head, smiling. “Why would I stop? It’s Christmas.”

“Still,” he muttered, looking down at the chocolate in his hand. “You make everything... better. Not just Christmas. Just—everything.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you reached for a piece of chocolate yourself to hide your flustered smile. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

The word friends made his heart ache in the best and worst way. He wanted to be more than that, but the thought of ruining what you already had was enough to keep him silent.

“You’ve been so good to me this year, Remus,” you said after a moment, surprising him. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Me? You’re the one who’s—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

You leaned closer, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. “No, go on. What were you going to say?”

He hesitated, then sighed, giving you a small smile. “You’re the one who’s made this year so great. I mean, you’re... you’re incredible, really. You make everyone feel special. It’s hard not to feel lucky just being around you.”

Your heart fluttered, and you looked down at your lap, feeling suddenly shy. “Well, if I make everyone feel special, it’s only because I learned from you.”

Remus blinked, caught completely off guard. “From me?”

You nodded, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “Of course. You’re one of the kindest people I know, Remus. And you always know how to make people feel cared for, even when you don’t realize it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room seemed to grow quieter, the glow of the fire casting a soft light over your faces.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Merry Christmas, Remus,” you said, your smile brighter than any decoration in the room.

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, his heart so full it felt like it might burst.

He still didn’t know if he’d ever work up the courage to tell you how he really felt, but for now, being your friend—your favourite friend, he hoped—was more than enough.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

you know what's delicious? yn who started wearing flavored lip balm/lip tint because of suguru — so that every time suguru ate a curse, he could just easily pull the man into a kiss to get rid of the disgusting taste suguru hates so much ((bonus points if yn also pops in a candy/sweet/chocolate in his mouth before feeding it to suguru through a kiss — anything to help suguru forget the taste of curses)) yeah... just... suguruyn for the win man 😋🫶

((even more bonus points when satoru finds out later and he gets all jelly because 1. he doesn't know the lip balm/lip tint can come with a flavor so he felt blindsided and of course, he humphs and puffs because of it and 2. he wanted a chocolatey sweetness kissies too!!!! and of course lastly, 3. he felt left out because he never knows that suguruyn always makes out every single time suguru ate a curse so he's all pouty about it — ask him to join in next time!!!))

❝ He's just like candy, he's so sweet ❞

polycule (Satoru x r! x Suguru)) | alternate universes (Suguru is not a cult-reader), fluff, NSFW | vers. bottom. reader (AMAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 3.6k

warnings: foodplay, threesomes, pouty satoru & smug suguru, semi-public sex, d/s dynamics

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

author's note: in this au, they slayed the links that made me lose my mind (thank you @xuxitheii for making me squeal and kick my feet): geto suguru : gojo satoru : gojo satoru being a big baby

Curses. Ugly as sin and tastes just as foul. Suguru remembers the first time he discovered he could devour them; how awful it felt as it went down his throat, bulging out and staying there — blocking his airway as he struggled to find it in himself to swallow.

The way his teeth ached. His throat convulsed and his instincts forced it back up but his fingers blocked it from doing so. It warbled in the back of his mouth, begging to be let out and 7-year-old Suguru just knew he couldn’t bear for it to disturb him again. He couldn’t handle it speaking nonsensically into his ear, slinking under his bed or even staring right at him as it grinned so wide Suguru swore he could see his reflection in its yellow, wicked-sharp, teeth.

The pills his parents (his poor, non-sorcerer, parents) had given him to help with his “hallucinations” made him feel as though a thick fog was obscuring his brain. His thoughts faded and his movement groggy, his emotions caged while his body still felt the anxious tremors that ran through him when he saw them.

The curses made him feel like he was constantly in a deep pit of despair. Everything wrong in the world, the depravity and impulses of humanity that manifested into these grotesque creatures in the palm of his hands made his nose sting, till this day, as an 18-year-old; it made his eyes well with tears.

Suguru can't describe it in a way people could understand. But if asked, he’d used the viscera of a vomit rag being forced down your throat.

But the strong protect the weak. While your lips protect them from his ire. This one goes down with a loud gulp, his fingers blocking his lips as he tosses his head back. The worst is almost over, the aftertaste will linger but not for long. Because then, he feels your weight on his chest and Suguru is pliant as you gently pry his fingers away.

“You did a good job, baby.” Suguru flutters his eyes open and he can’t help the way his lips twitch eagerly. Your lips are glossier than usual, he can smell the cherry flavour on them. His hands wrap themselves around your waist. It’s a firm grip.

Mine, he says without speaking, mine — all mine.

He pulls and a huff of air escapes you in a series of chuckles. “I know we haven’t been out in a while, but did you miss me that much, Su-Su?” Suguru frowns at your jest. It’s rare for him to pout. That role is often delegated to your boyfriend, Satoru. So this must truly upset him.

Because, yes, he did.

You’d been called overseas to complete a mission. It was the norm for sorcerers considering the population of sorcerers in Japan; outsourcing they called it. Your curse technique was needed for this mission and truly, it didn’t take long but Suguru had done solo missions and he missed you.

Three solo missions. Three disgusting, dog-shit, vomit-stained rags, down his throat. Three days without you by his side.

He hated it.

“Don’t ask a silly question like that ever again,” he mumbles. Silly. The way he scolds you always makes you smile. Never crass or rude — his voice reminds you of the symphony of leaves singing with the wind as they danced and speckled light onto the forest floors and cool water bubbling over rocks.

“Why? Why can’t I ask silly questions?” You tease, placing your elbows on his shoulder and hanging your hands behind him. Purposefully lax despite the coquettish smile on your face.

“You already know the answer.” He speaks with such sincerity. Every word is heavy with nothing but candour and adoration. It makes your eyes soften and Suguru squeezes you closer.

“I do?” He nods at your words, the tip of his nose brushing over yours and his tan skin so flushed on the apples of his cheeks.

“Kiss me like you miss me, baby.”

Suguru’s lips land on yours like a feather. Supple as always he begins it with a long-lasting peck. Pouty lip against pouty lip. His hands climb up your back and he presses between your shoulder blades to somehow hold you closer; his jaw opens and yours does the same. There it is — that heaven that’s your mouth. Suguru groans and you feel his tongue sneaking in, devouring you like a starved man.

The cherry flavour on your lips, the sweetness of the candy you let melt on your tongue, the way your fingers grip his hair, the way he can feel your breath on his cheek as you try to breathe. He wishes that the two of you never needed air. Suguru wants nothing more than to kiss you forever and ever and ever —

“Hey!”

You part with a gasp, cheeks warm and lips almost bruised as the line of spit between the two of you breaks. At the mouth of the alleyway was your boyfriend; Gojo Satoru.

His arms are crossed and he taps his foot in a cartoonish fashion. Despite that, both of you know that the frown on his face is very much real. “What gives? I exorcised the other curses and I came back to the two of you making out. So unfair!”

Suguru parts with a sigh, rolling his eyes to the side and pouting his lips to the side as he muttered about Satoru having FOMO. It makes you giggle and he smiles when you lean forward to place your face right under his jaw.

“S’toru, you’re being a baby. Suguru did a lot of work and I was just thanking him.” Satoru unfolds his arms and flaps them around in protest.

“I did work too!”

And it has begun — Satoru’s famous little tantrums. Oh, he could go for a full hour if he was really worked up but there is a saving grace in him having them. He closes his eyes when he’s yappering. Suguru is listening to his huffy boyfriend but then you kiss his chin and he tilts his face down to look at you.

“Hm?” your teeth brush over his lower lips, then plant firmly on his. “Baby?” he smiles in the lip-locking and you whine about it because his lips should not stretch into that handsome smile, they should be pursed outward and part to let you in.

He tastes chocolate on your tongue. The creaminess of the chocolate makes him groan along with the citrusy notes. That combined with the fruitiness of the cherry tint on your lips makes the taste of the curses he’d ingested (exorcised) all but disappear. Your hands climb to the lobe of his ears and his breath hitches when your fingers trail the curve of it, he protests a bit as you undo his bun; then you whisper his name and Suguru tightens his grip on your waist.

“Hey!”

Satoru is whining again but this time he’s closer. Close enough for Suguru to grab a fistful of Satoru’s white button-up and pull him in. As his face turns you giggle, wiping away some smeared gloss as you watch Satoru turn red from Suguru’s heated kiss.

Satoru groans with his eyebrows twitching. Listless in his attempt to remain angry at Suguru. He pounds his fist against Suguru’s shoulder and attempts to crane his neck away. When he turns, he gasps as you steal his breath.

Satoru’s graceful legs tumble over themselves as his boyfriends press him to the rough wall of the alleyway. There’s a constant hum of an A/C machine and the noises from the pipes keep the intimate noises between the three of you contained. Suguru’s blunt nails drag onto the faded plastered-on advertisements — yours grip onto the bars of the window that had been covered up by old newspapers.

Satoru’s grip onto the front of both of your shirts. His glasses go askew as he struggles to keep up with his boyfriends. Suguru misses Satoru so much. He’d been away too, the Higher Ups sending him overseas at the same time as you and Shoko had to deal with a depressed Suguru for those 3 days.

“Mah, Satoru,” you drag your lips to Satoru’s sensitive neck. His hands don’t seem to know what to do with themselves. It grips and pushes and stutters. “I always give Suguru special kisses after a job well done, you’ve just always been too busy to notice.”

“S’not fair,” Satoru retorts with no real venom in his words. “I deserve special kisses too, don’t I?” Suguru chuckles, forcing Satoru to look his way and shut him up. Satoru glares over the rim of his crooked glasses as Suguru’s thumb presses down on his canines.

“What a jealous brat.”

“Can’t even handle a little teasing.”

Satoru would heavily disagree with that. A little teasing? You called being pushed to a wall, groped, kissed, and bitten by your handsome and powerful boyfriends a little teasing?

Satoru was a sign of change, his birth instantly tipped the scales of the sorcerer world, but he was still human!

Suguru grins that irritatingly pleased grin when Satoru’s protests die out thanks to your hands slipping down his pants. “Oh shit,” he hisses. His speech is odd with Suguru’s thumb in his mouth, casually inspecting it. But you laugh anyway.

“You know, since he has been away too, maybe he does deserve a bit of sugar from you, (Y/N).” You glance at Suguru, your cock chubbing up in your pants as he pointedly motions his gaze to the ground. You kneel in front of Satoru and drool slips down his chin as his pupils chase after you. Suguru chuckles, wiping it away and wiping it off on Satoru’s shirt — to which he hears no complaint. Suguru stands behind you, bending at his waist to peer down. It’s unfair how pretty he is from any angle. The Gods took their time making him. Of that, you are certain.

“Ready, sweetheart?” you nod, opening your saccharine-sweet mouth; Suguru pats your cheek as praise and undoes Satoru’s pants for you. His cock springs out, nearly bumping into your nose as it strains and twitches in the open air. When Suguru holds it, Satoru grunts and raises his hips. Fucking into his fist like a dog in heat. Suguru regards this with a shake of his head and guides Satoru to your mouth. You form a fist around your thumb, looking up at Satoru through your lashes as you wrap your lips around him.

Suguru straightens his composure. He takes in the sight.

Satoru and you know better than to be handsy. The pale-haired man grabs onto the bars of the window behind him, breathing through his nose as the toe of his shoes dig into the floors. You slip your eyelids close and languish in the taste of Satoru’s cock — breathing through your nose as well as you bob your head.

Fuck, Suguru missed this. He really did. He could get off on this alone. Just watched as both of you enjoyed the other. His darling boyfriends, who so obediently listen to his whims even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Who could ask for more?

Suguru strokes over your eyebrow and barely stifles a laugh when you tilt your head so Satoru’s tip pokes your cheeks.

“Good boy. My sweet boy.”

His voice alone makes you want to give in to whatever it is he asks of you — it’s insane how much power and sway he has. Your charming Suguru.

Satoru moans, swiftly reaching out and gripping onto the collar of Suguru’s top. They kiss. Fighting for dominance because Satoru needs to be pushed into submission. He relishes being put in his place — smacked around a little.

You could pinpoint this kink originating from his frivolous childhood and naturally talented self needing some sort of edge to sink down into a more fuzzy headspace.

Or perhaps Satoru was just a brat and he trusted his lovers enough to relinquish that control. Both theories worked.

Suguru grunts as Satoru tugs at his hair, the pleasant tinge of pain making his dick strain against his loose pants. You spot it from the corner of your eyes, an obscene slurping sound coming from you as you attempt to not make this blowjob too messy. An impossible task, really. But a worthy effort.

“Your lips taste like cherry, why?” Satoru’s question catches Suguru off-guard. He expected Satoru’s usual quips and huffiness. He indulges.

“(Y/N) wore cherry-flavoured lipgloss.”

The proof is in the coloured streaks on his dick. You feel it twitch on your tongue and pull away, your hot breath on his cockhead making precum leak out of his blushing tip. You rest it on your velvet tongue, unabashedly pouting to kiss the tip and then taking him inside again. Those slightly shimmery streaks made Satoru grit his teeth.

“I didn’t know those came in flavours,” Satoru moans. “How come you don’t wear that for me too?”

“Because it’s for me, you little shithead,” Suguru growls lowly. Their foreheads touch as he tightens his grip on Satoru’s neck, the pressure making Satoru’s eyelids flutter for a second. “It’s my prize for exorcising curses.”

“You jealous?” you wonder out loud. The answer was clear but there was a rush to make Satoru admit it.

“Yes, I am!” He curses for a moment as you descend further down to lick at his balls, looking up at him still as if this conversation was taking place over a dinner table and not in an alleyway with society just a few meters away. As if his dick wasn't on your face while you feel his balls tightening up on your tongue.

Seriously, if somebody peered down long enough they would most definitely catch sight of the three of you here.

“I just – just...fuck, I missed the two of you too. It’s completely unfair you’ve been keeping this from me too! I’ll never forgive you.”

Suguru grabs the back of your neck and pulls you backward. His large hands effectively push your head down further and further until your nose is at the neat patch of pubic hair Satoru has. You relax your throat and jaw, eyes watering while you brace your hands on Satoru’s thighs.

“So why didn’t you just tell us that, darling?" Suguru purrs. "Instead, you chose to be a brat and stomp around. You’re better than that, Satoru. Aren’t you? Hm?”

You gag but Suguru holds you in place. His hand barely has any real strength behind it. If you jerked backward, he would not hold you in place. No, no. Suguru’s power comes from the lack of strength he needs to exhibit. His dominance is in the ease Suguru commands it.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You needed him inside of you.

“Screw you, Suguru,” Satoru chokes out.

He pulls you off. You cough, spit staining your chin as you smile loosely at them. Suguru then pulls you onto your feet, pushes you to the wall, and undoes your pants. You bite down on your lower lip, staring at Satoru as you brace your hands onto the wall just next to him. Satoru watches on, trying to keep himself strong by pretending he isn’t affected by the sight before him.

Suguru gathers spit in his mouth but pauses as he feels the candy wrapper in your pockets. The chocolate brand makes his brows raise. It’s expensive. No doubt Satoru’s influence had rubbed off on you. Only one company in the world made this chocolate, its pink colour is a dead giveaway. No wonder your cherry-flavoured gloss tasted so strong, it was complimented nicely by the leftover taste of this ruby chocolate.

He lets your pants pool around your ankles while he takes a bite. It wasn’t disgustingly soft, but your body heat made it melt quickly on his tongue. He spreads your ass apart and spits a thick glob of his spit and pink chocolate. The sensation sends shivers up your back and you arch your back further, unsure about the new sensation.

“Suguru, that was expensive — ngh!”

Your eyes widen as he presses his cock inside. You were thankful for your morning romp with them. It loosened you up enough that Suguru’s impatience didn’t cause pain and only mild discomfort — he reaches forward to jerk your cock off to ebb it away and you moan out his name.

“Shh, shh, not so loud. We’re still outside, baby.”

Satoru groans, reaching to toss his glasses away as he turns his back to the entrance and gives you his full attention. He’s craving touch. To taste or to mark you up. To do anything, really. He is goddamn hypnotized by the way Suguru’s dick thrusts in and out of you. Suguru gives you a good fucking for too short of a time — pounding into you like a jackhammer and making you nearly bite your tongue off in an attempt to keep quiet before he pulls out.

Your knees buckle, thighs twitching as you try to keep yourself upright. Satoru’s knees thud onto the floor and he greedily laps at Suguru’s cock, moaning at the creamy taste. The same flavour leaks out of you while you catch your breath. The mouth of the alleyway is quiet but there are still the faint noises of the city just there. A few big strides away. But there. It excites you. You imagine it’s exciting your equally perverted boyfriends too.

"Satoru," Suguru groans at the sight of him. You peel yourself from the wall. Shoulders thudding onto the hard surface while your pants drop to your ankles. Shakily, you use your feet to push it all the way off, eyes trained on Satoru savouring the flavour of Suguru and the ruby chocolate. He pulls away with a breathy 'pwah!' and strokes Suguru's creamy dick.

You're tempted to join Satoru. Just sharing Suguru's cock, kissing Satoru with his cockhead between your lips. Fuck, just the thought has your dick slapping lightly against your navel. Suguru plants a hand near your head, turning his head to kiss you while the other is tugging on the roots of Satoru's head. a

"Both of my boys are being so obedient," he says after a deliciously deep groan of Satoru's name. "We missed you," you reply in a whiny whisper.

"Missed you so much, S'guru..."

Satoru moans, pulling away as he catches his breath and shares a heated gaze.

"Fuck, I missed you so badly. Missed this dick too," Satoru turns to your crotch and kisses the underside of your dick. It makes your breath hitch, hips jerking forward. The wetness of your precum smears on Satoru's cheek a bit but he doesn't even mind. Nor does he seem to notice.

"These cocks are the only ones that make me this hungry."

Suguru glances at the alleyway. You're not loud enough to draw attention. Still, better safe than sorry.

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure." You throw your head back to laugh. A veil was meant to conceal, protect those outside of it, and maintain secrecy. To use it so improperly.

The three of you were truly perverted.

"What's got you all giggly?" Suguru speaks against your lips. Tilting your chin upwards then squeezing the sides of your neck just to relish in the way you bare your neck to him.

"You used a veil," Satoru speaks for you. He raises, ignoring Suguru's pointed glance in favour of unbuttoning your shirt and kissing down your chest. His lips are sticky, smears of pink tainting you but you find it hard to care. "He's laughing because he thinks we're perverts."

"What are you? A mind reader now, Satoru?" You huff.

"I might as well be, huh?" Satoru smirks. He's so handsome that it makes your chest hurt sometimes. You're against the wall, exits blocked by Suguru and Satoru and you wouldn't have it any other way. "You know, I missed you too. It's been weeks — "

"Three days," Suguru and you corrected.

"Weeks. And this morning wasn't enough. We did such a good job, those wrinkle bags can't complain if we just so happened to work overtime, right?"

Ijichi can't stop his cheek from heating up. It's painfully, painfully, obvious why the three of you took your time for this mission. He had waited in the car for the first hour, then occupied himself with some coffee at a nearby cafe but by the third hour, Ijichi almost called Principal Yaga.

Three Special Grade Sorcerers took that long to exorcise an abandoned building. Surely, something must have happened!

Yet, seeing you sleeping on Suguru's lap with your legs across Satoru's lap confirms the real reason why it took the three of you that long.

Satoru has a weighted eye mask, head tossed back as he recuperates. This gives Ijichi a clear sight of his marked-up neck. Your shirt is wrinkled, hitched up from the bend of your waist, and giving him the whispers of handmarks. Suguru met his gaze from the rearview and Ijichi whispered out an apology.

"No, please. We're sorry for keeping you waiting." Suguru is brushing your bangs back, gently wiping down some residual stickiness on your cheeks with wet wipes (that Ijichi had made a point to stock up on in the car after earlier missions involving you three).

"No, I understand," he says with a shaky voice. Sighing a little he laughed awkwardly from the driver's seat.

"You must've been missing them a lot for those three days they've been gone, Mr Geto."

Suguru's expression softens, leaning one shoulder down when Satoru leans to place his head on his shoulders.

"It's hard not to. I love them."

[literaila]

hey

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're both drunk and (not) in love

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst if you're me, fluff, nonsensical conversation

a/n: i will be messing with this later but if i have to think about it for any longer i'll cry (also listen to be (acoustic) because i said so)

last part | next part

*

year four.

the house is almost silent, tonight. 

usually, at close to midnight, it's quiet. the house will buzz as the furnace works, the house settling itself into the earth, but there's none of the laughter that echoes throughout the hallways like it does during the day. no names being yelled across a threshold, much too loud for the size of the house itself. 

the kids are always in bed this late, and usually you and satoru are too--besides the nights where you stay up talking or arguing, speaking with soft voices for so long that your throat is sore by morning.

those are the nights when you fall asleep on the couch together, or you migrate to one of your rooms, speaking nothing of the broken rules in your relationship. 

satoru's bed is a lot more comfy than yours, anyway. his blankets are heavier and his pillows are fluffier. 

or that's what you usually think to yourself in the morning when you wake up there once again. it's an excuse, sure, but at least it's more reasonable than reality. 

but tonight is quiet because the kids aren't home. and it's almost midnight, and the two of you are just walking in through the door. 

and, admittedly, you're a little bit drunk. 

"don't--" you say, laughing languidly, tripping over satoru's legs as he pushes the door open. it took him five tries to unlock it, but you don't say anything, because everything looks a bit uneven. "don't forget to shut it all the way."

satoru ignores you. "why are all of the lights off?" 

you step over the tiny shoes left by your front door, almost tripping on air, and flick on the lights. you squint at the brightness, groaning.

but the lights do nothing to ease the eerieness of the hallway. 

you can't remember the last time you came home this late. the last time you had a night without the kids. 

it's probably why the two of you went a little overboard at the bar. but it's hard to keep up with shoko anyway, so it's not really your fault. 

satoru hiccups. "why don't we have night vision?" 

"humans suck," you answer, trying to kneel to take off your shoes, which are pinching at your feet. 

"true," he says, kicking his own sneakers against the wall. his jacket is already off, and on a normal night you would chastise him for not hanging it up, but at the moment you've kind of forgotten about the coat rack. 

and how to think properly. 

"did you--" you shake your head, looking at satoru, who seems to be upside down. "did you lock the door?" 

"of course i did, i'm not a heathen." 

but you see him rattle the doorknob, clumsily, and that must satisfy you because you walk out of the hallway, into the living room, which is just as dark as the rest of the house. 

it's strange that no one else is home. strange that there's no one to tuck in, no room to peek your head in before you pass out. 

"how late is it?" you ask satoru, who's following so closely behind you that you almost fall back into him when you stop. 

"dunno." 

"is there someone here? i feel like i'm in a horror movie," you turn to satoru, who's squinting around like he'll be able to see something in the dark room. "where are your glasses?" 

"dunno," he says, with a grin. and then hiccups again. 

you roll your eyes, but grab his hand as you pull him along the house, trailing to one of your rooms--you can't remember which--and forcing yourself to take off your socks before you climb into bed. 

it's a good thing that both of the kids are gone because neither of you are exactly quiet as you walk through the house. satoru is tripping every step, and you're holding onto all of the walls trying not to do the same. 

seriously, neither of you ever get out. 

and, in the blink of an eye, you're in someone's bed--hopefully yours--nuzzling yourself under the blankets. your head is swirling, and you can't see anything, but satoru is there, you think, because you can feel him. 

like a buzz on your skin as his hand trails up your arm, and he pulls you into him, probably. it's all fuzzy. and you don't care what he's doing anyway--you trust him, even drunk. 

"i'm never drinking again," you mumble as you turn, wiping something off of your face.

satoru laughs. his breath on the side of your cheek makes you blink. "you said that last time, i think." 

"i was right." 

"lightweight," he teases like he isn't slurring the word. 

he's so very close, and yet, you curl your leg around his, trying to get yourself even closer. 

satoru doesn't complain as you move, as fast a dream, and then you're lying on top of him. 

maybe it's not his bed. maybe he's the comfortable one. 

you blink hazily at his smile and press a chaste kiss on his jaw like it's an appropriate thing to do. 

you can't think of anything to say, so you just hum into his skin as you settle in. you kinda want to lick him.

"why're you so cold?" he asks you, rubbing your arms. 

you don't respond. 

being with him is like walking on top of everything else. walking on nothing at all, actually. 

his hands wrap around your waist, secure and sure, like he's never hesitated a day in his life. and you think, just for a moment, that you've never been warm like this.

that maybe you've been living in a tundra. maybe that feeling in your core has been frozen for so long, and satoru is the only thing warm enough to defrost it. 

but it takes a long time. that hurt, that fear eased in the edges of your soul cannot be cleared out with a single burst of flame. 

though satoru is not one single thing. 

but, nonetheless, his hands on you, holding you to him, are enough for now. 

his eyes--with nothing to stop them from reaching you, like a blindfold or lens--have always been far more than you wanted. 

but he's looking at you, so you can't think about any of it.

you want to tell him something, but you’re not sure what. there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out. but it stays hidden, a secret you’re keeping from even yourself.

his eyes are on yours, focused and sure, pupils blown.

you kind of want to laugh at him, because inhibitions make you giddy. and satoru has always been something that excites you. 

his face echoes with the memories of two children, two foolish kids who never understood just how good they had it. 

have it. 

"do you think i'm strong?" satoru asks you, still slurring, and he's joking. he's been quiet for a while, so you don't know where this is coming from. on a normal night, you'd probably be concerned about the question. 

but tonight you just giggle against him, tracing the slope of his eyebrow, which makes his face twitch. 

with your other hand, you pretend to feel around his arm like you'll find anything but muscle. "hmm," you pinch his bicep, giddy when he flinches from your touch. "i guess. might wanna hit the gym, though." 

you think you might die from just the way he's looking at you. 

"you're a bad liar," satoru grins at you. he's breathing heavily through his mouth like you've exhausted him. 

"so are you," you tell him. 

"says who?" he asks, and he's lying to you right now. 

"me. remember when you tried to convince me that you painted that portrait in the hallway?"  

"i did," satoru swears, but he shakes his head as he says it, looking away. 

a bit of reprieve for you, but you still tilt his chin back. you want his eyes.

"see? bad liar." 

"i get it from you." 

you grin at him, not sure what it means. 

"if you died, would you come back to haunt me?" satoru asks you, suddenly. like the question is significant, in some way. 

"if i die you'll already be a ghost," you say to him, "because you're dying first." 

"no, i'm not." 

"do you want me to die?" 

he pretends to think about it. "well, no, i guess. but if you did, would you haunt me?" 

"definitely. i'd throw things around the house for you to clean up. and mess with your conditioners." 

"so you're an evil ghost." 

"just a bit of karma for letting me die." 

"i'd avenge you," satoru argues. 

"i don't want to be avenged," you roll your eyes. "just keep me alive."

"oh, yeah. guess i could do that." 

"you guess?" 

"i mean... it's a lot of work. i'll have to look at my schedule." 

"next time i go on a mission i'm going to come back hurt just to see you freak out. maybe i'll lose a limb. or some brain damage? which is worse?" 

satoru, who squirms around a paper cut, gives you a plagued look. "i'm going to tell yaga about the threats you're making." 

"like he'd believe you." 

"i'll lock you in the basement. you'll never go on another mission again. there, i solved our problem. you never leave the house and i don't have to worry about keeping you alive." 

"we don't have a basement." 

"oh. right," he frowns. then he blinks, and the smile is back. 

"also, i keep you alive every day. you can't return the favor?” you sigh. “i'm being exploited." 

he raises a brow. 

"who do you think hides all of the sweets?" you ask him. "the kids aren't eating all of those." 

"where'd you put my pocky?" 

"you'll never know." 

"i'll torture you for information. i know where you're ticklish." 

you squirm away from his seeking hands, but don't move. you grasp one, stopping him from touching any further than your side. "i'm not scared of the man who won't even remove his hair from the drain after he showers." 

satoru makes a face. "but it's all slimy and weird." 

"it's your hair! stop making megumi do it." 

"i feed him. he can help out." 

you have to keep yourself from giggling again, like a foolish girl who’s in love with her best friend.

you roll your eyes and fall flat against him, letting go of his hand, even though it's very soft, and you relax on his chest. there's a moment where satoru settles into this--into you--and then his hands begin to roam the expanse of your back.

"if i was a ghost," satoru whispers, "i would lay on top of you in the morning so you couldn't get out of bed." 

"like a sleep paralysis demon?" 

"yup." 

"dont you already do that?" 

he licks his lips. "it'd be scarier if i was invisible." 

"can ghosts touch people? i don't think they're tactile." 

"i'm not like a normal ghost." 

"not like normal anything." 

satoru nudges his nose against your forehead in retaliation, but he doesn't argue. it's not like he can, anyway. 

"hey," you whisper, after a moment. you're looking up at him, admiring the slopes and concaves of his face at this angle. his eyes almost make his face glow, his own personal light. 

"hey." 

"do you think the kids are awake right now?" 

"no," satoru sighs. "nanami probably put them to bed at six. after feeding them straight broccoli." 

"i told him their routine..." you mumble. "i think." 

"d'ya think megumi'll haunt us?" 

"he'll never die," you tell him, "just out of spite." 

"true." 

"you can't haunt him, okay?" you say, very seriously, giving him a flat look, which he laughs at. "when you die he deserves some peace." 

"no promises." 

you poke his chest but have no answer. actually... you're not even really sure what you're talking about. or that it matters. 

there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out.

but satoru is still warm. he smells like bitter alcohol and bubblegum. 

"hey," you whisper, again, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. you’re not sure what you’re doing.

he is blurry this close, but you can still see all of him. you'd know his face if you went blind, behind a mask. you could black out--you probably will--and he'd still be there. 

"hey," he murmurs back. his voice is like a punch to the throat. but his smile is effortless.

"you're pretty," you whisper, as you think it. "and sweaty." 

satoru's looking down at you, and his smile stays the same. his breath is on your face, sugary sweet. "so are you." 

"i know." 

satoru laughs, his knuckles running across your cheekbone. it almost makes you shiver. "pretty," he whispers like it's a joke. 

"why're your eyes so blue?" 

"wavelengths, or something. didn't you pay attention in school?" 

you laugh, shaking your head at him. it's funnier than it should be. 

"don't you like my eyes?" he asks, suddenly pouting. 

"yeah. they're like a nightlight. 's never dark." 

his eyes are probably your favorite thing in the world, you don't say, 'cause you can't think. his eyes are unimaginable, and so close to you.

satoru swallows, shaking his head. "that's all i am to you?" 

"and a teddy bear. you're comfy." 

satoru hiccups, but holds you closer, smiling against your forehead. "good." 

there's a couple of minutes where the two of you bask in the silence. the quiet is a nice break from it all. and you're both so drunk that the usual fears can't seem to make their way in. 

not the way they usually doing, plaguing your body. fear is just something that is, right now. nothing to be afraid of.

but, even so, you've never felt so safe. or so sleepy.

and this time, it's satoru who whispers, "hey." 

"hey," you say, back. you smile at him. his fingers trace circles on your back. or maybe he's writing something. you can't tell. 

it feels nice, though. 

"i like you," he says. and you're not sure if he means in general, or here, in his bed with him. maybe it's a question. 

it doesn't matter. 

"i like you too. hey?" 

satoru just hums this time. you can tell that he's about to fall asleep, because his eyelashes flutter shut, and his breathing has begun to even out. 

"satoru," you say, again, because you want to see his eyes just one more time before you fall asleep on top of him. 

you have to say something. it could be the alcohol, but it might be just you.

"yeah?" 

"i think i'm in love with you," you say, and you mean it but it's not what you meant to say. but you're half-asleep, about to drool on his chest, so you can't even contemplate the words. 

is it drunk and in love? or drunk on love? 

you can't remember. 

you could probably kiss him right now. he’s close enough, and you’ve always wanted to. but, even this version of you knows that it would be a bad idea. so you don’t. and you don’t think about what you’ve just admitted.

satoru's smile is vicious, as it begins to blur. you can feel his heart beating against your fingertips. "yeah?" he whispers, and you're not sure why he sounds breathless.

you nod against him. 

"me too," he murmurs, and you can't think about what it means. he whispers something else that you don't hear.

because the two of you fall asleep just then, and the words don't really mean anything. 

just, you know, everything. 

*

in the morning, your head pounds. 

one of you left the blinds open last night, so the sun wakes you up, shining through the trees outside. your mouth is dry, and your throat burns, like you swallowed knives. 

and you're still on top of satoru, and you remember exactly how you got there. 

he's groaning when you begin to move, holding you closer. and this isn't all that unusual. 

but when he opens his eyes, there's a daze in them. some secret he's thinking about as he looks at you. 

and you both forget to mention that you remember the night before. and everything that was said. 

you probably shouldn't talk about it with a hangover, anyway. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[willowsnook]

hiii can you please serve a vodka,whiskey, tequila, and scotch with italian soda in either a cooper mug or wine glass ? ty <3

charles leclerc x reader

a little variation on the prompts bc i was struggling

18+

it's always been you you're mine, end of discussion let me take care of you just shut up and come here

“We’re definitely sad to see you go, y/n,” your boss said, a frown tugging at his face, “but we’re glad to have you for the final stretch of the season.”

You had just told him that, as Carlos’ lead strategist, you’d be following him to Williams next year. You’d worked with Carlos since your first day at Ferrari, and over time, you two had become incredibly close. When he started negotiating with Williams, he mentioned he’d feel more comfortable if you were by his side. They offered you a position, and after some thought and financial incentive, you accepted.

Ferrari had been home, but the idea of a fresh start was exciting—and part of the reason you were ready for a change was waiting just outside your boss’s office.

“You’re really leaving Ferrari?” a voice called as you walked out, Charles stepping in your path.

“Yes, next season,” you sighed, already bracing for a comment.

“So, you’re a traitor then.” He crossed his arms, his expression sharp.

“People switch teams all the time,” you countered.

“Yeah, but you have insider knowledge.”

“And you had insider knowledge from Sauber. No one’s accusing you of anything,” you snapped back, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you even care, Charles? Honestly, I’m thrilled I won’t have to deal with you.”

“Maybe Ferrari will finally give Lewis someone with a brain,” he shot back.

You flipped him off as you brushed past him, headed to your office. From day one, you and Charles had been at odds, no matter how much Carlos tried to smooth things over. He constantly undermined your decisions, making it clear he didn’t think you deserved your position.

When you stepped into your office, Carlos was waiting, lounging in the chair opposite your desk. He grinned as you entered.

“How’d it go?” he asked, though you could see the concern in his eyes.

“Fine. He didn’t say much.” You dropped into your seat, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for telling Charles, by the way.”

Carlos smirked. “What did he say?”

“The usual nonsense.”

“He was pretty upset when I told him,” Carlos said, watching you carefully.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Because he likes you, cariño,” Carlos replied, exasperation evident in his voice.

You scoffed. “He hates me, and I hate him.”

Carlos just shook his head. “Two people that argue with the passion you guys have aren't just enemies. Trust me.”

Rolling your eyes again, you shooed him out of your office, focusing back on preparations for the next race.

Three weeks later

“I can’t believe you screwed me like that!” Charles’ voice rang out as he stormed into the garage, livid after the race.

“I’m sorry, since when was it part of the strategy to overtake there?” you snapped back, meeting his anger head-on. “We told you to wait for the next turn.”

“I had the opportunity!” he seethed.

“And look where that got you,” you shot back, throwing your arms up. “Into the wall!”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re sabotaging me to help Carlos. Just admit it.”

“Ferrari signs my checks, not Carlos,” you retorted, your voice edged with frustration.

He glared at you before muttering, “Please, you wouldn’t even be here if Carlos didn’t think you were so—”

“Charles!” Carlos’ voice broke through, but it was too late. Your hand slapped Charles across the face before you even registered the movement. His eyes went wide with shock, and you turned on your heel, storming out of the garage without looking back.

You left early, heading straight to the hotel, needing space to cool off. Carlos texted later, checking in and inviting you to dinner with him and Rebecca.

Reluctantly, you changed into a nicer outfit and met them downstairs.

“How are you, y/n?” Rebecca asked kindly, linking her arm with yours as you stepped into the Uber.

“It’s been a day,” you muttered.

“Charles feels terrible, you know,” Carlos chimed in from your other side.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure.”

Carlos pulled you to a stop, making you face him. “He does, seriously. We all get worked up after races, and what he said was out of line. But you know how it is.”

You just hummed in response, unwilling to dive back into the topic, and turned your attention to Rebecca. Dinner was lighthearted, and soon after, the three of you headed to a nearby bar with friends. A few drinks in, you spotted Charles watching you from across the room. The moment your eyes met, you turned away, avoiding him for the rest of the night.

But as the night wound down, you sensed him approaching, and when you turned, there he was—standing right behind you.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, his earlier anger replaced with something softer.

You sighed, giving in. He led you to a quieter corner, and even in your haze, you could feel the tension between you two.

“I crossed the line earlier,” he admitted, his gaze dropping. “You just—drive me insane.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” you replied with a bitter laugh.

“In a way, yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

You were tired of his words, tired of the tension. Without thinking, you grabbed his collar, pulling him down into a fierce kiss. He froze, stunned, but after a beat, his hands found your waist, pulling you closer.

“I like you better when you’re not talking,” you said as you pulled back, breathless. “I still hate you. But I'm drunk and want to forget this day.”

His eyes darkened as he nodded. Wordlessly, you led him out of the bar, ignoring Carlos’ knowing smirk as you ducked into a car with Charles at your side, his hand resting on your thigh, neither of you saying a word.

Opening the door to your hotel room, Charles tried to push you against the wall but you shoved him back.

"I'm in control," you said sternly and he held your gaze for a second before retreating to lay down on the bed. You watched as he pulled his shirt over his head and your eyes followed from his chest down to his abs in appreciation.

"See something you like mon cheri?" He asked smirking and you stalked over to him.

Straddling him, you met his lips in a heated kiss again, fingers tangled in his hair while he tugged at your dress to pull over your head. When it was off he immediately attached his lips to your chest, sucking harsh enough to leave a mark and causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. Feeling him harden underneath you, you ground your hips down onto him causing him to gasp.

His hands found the sides of your hips and started rocking you back and forth against him while you whimpered at the friction.

"That feel good huh," he rasped. "You need more?"

"Yes Charles please," you begged and he smirked at your neediness. He set you on your back and pulled down his jeans and boxers, letting his cock flip up against his abs.

He reached down to pull your thong off and rubbed his fingers up and down your wetness.

"So wet for someone you supposedly hate," he teased as you groaned against him. He brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. "Tastes even better than I imagined."

You started to say something but were cut off as he pushed into you, causing you to gasp. He moved slowly, whispering encouraging words in your ear as you adjusted to his size.

"Move Charles," you demanded once you were ready and he happily obliged, picking up a fast pace. You dug your nails into his back as he pounded into you, causing him to gasp out.

"I want on top," you breathed out and he pulled out, helping you up. Once he was settled, you sunk down on him slowly causing him to groan. You kept at a slow pace enjoying the tortured look on his face.

"Come on," he complained and you smirked.

"Beg."

He didn't say anything for a while, just staring into your eyes until you rolled your hips into his, causing him to whimper.

"Please y/n," he begged. "I need more mon cheri, please make me feel good. I need you."

Satisfied, you started moving faster and his head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closing. Your hand wrapped around his throat forcing him to look back at you.

"Eyes on me," you purred and he bit your lip. Grinding against him you could feel your climax coming and it was game over as his thumb found your clit. Your hips came to a stop as it washed over you and Charles dug his hands into your hips to take over the movement.

He was brutally fucking up into you chasing his own release as you squeezed tightly around him. At the last minute he flipped you back over to get a better angle and finally spilled into you.

The two of you just stared at each other in silence, breathing hard. You started to get up to move towards the bathroom but he stopped you.

"Let me take care of you," he said, scooping you up in his arms. He set you down in the shower, turned on the water, and slid in behind you. Washing your body slowly, you let yourself relax against him forgetting for just a second that this was your mortal enemy.

Turning the water off, you changed into pajamas and hesitated, seeing Charles in the bed under the covers.

"I don't know if you should spend the night," you said, and he gave you a pointed look.

"Just shut up and come here," he said and you gave in, climbing into bed next to him. He pulled you against him, letting your head rest against your chest.

"What are we doing?" You mumbled against him. "You don't even think I'm qualified enough to do my job and here I am letting you into my bed."

His fingers that were tracing circles on your back stilled.

"I don't think that," he said and you scoffed looking up at him.

"You basically say something along those lines every time we are together," you retorted and he looked away.

"It's just hard," he finally said.

"How is trying to be civil with me so difficult?"

"Because I'm jealous okay!" He exclaimed exasperated. "I love my strategists but they're all way older and have lives and other things going on. Carlos gets you and it's not fair. You guys hang out all the time and you actually want to spend time with him. It's been you that I've wanted this whole time."

Your mind was reeling at his confession and you sat up. He looked at you expectantly.

"So because you were jealous of me being Carlos' strategist, you decided the best course of action was to harass me?" You asked and he flinched at the coldness in your voice.

"In hindsight, it was a bad idea," he admitted. "I was just hoping you'd switch to another team but now that it's actually happening I freaked."

"You are truly unbelievable," you said, amazed at the audacity of this man. You laid back against your pillow and just stared at the ceiling.

"So what now?" Charles asked nervously.

"Dude, I don't even know," you said. "I hate you, but you hate me because you like me, and now I don't know what to think."

"I know," Charles said, his voice steady now. "But I don’t want to lose this... whatever it is between us. Can we at least try to figure it out? Maybe start over?"

You looked at him for a long moment, weighing his words, before finally nodding slightly. "Maybe," you said. "But this doesn’t just go away because you’ve admitted it. You hurt me, Charles."

He nodded solemnly. "I know. And I’ll make it right if you give me the chance. I want you to be mine."

You didn’t respond immediately, still processing everything. Eventually, you rolled onto your side, closing your eyes. "Let’s just get some sleep. We’ll figure out tomorrow when it comes."

Charles lay back down beside you, giving you space but still close enough to feel his presence.

[reimenaashelyee]

TCM 10th Anniversary

I haven't been very online and posting much art as of late, due to a surprising number of OBLIGATIONS (teaching gigs, job-hunting and catching up with lots of other comics work, which includes what I am gonna talk about in this post) and some disillusionment about posting art on platforms.

Some of you are gonna be shocked by this but 2026 is going to mark 10 years since I posted the first page of The Carpet Merchant of Konstantiniyya on my webcomic's website. This is a pretty big meaningful event to me -- TCM is my first ever completed graphic novel and the reason why I am able to have a comics career now. So obviously I want to celebrate it big and wrap my journey with TCM with a nice fancy extravagant bow.

I've been wanting to do a full FINAL remaster of all of 600 pages of the comic. Not so much revamping the art because I already did a lot of art fixes for the hardcover print editions, and I am still pretty chill about how everything looks! More like updating the lettering (again), correcting colours, fixing the dialogue and strengthening the themes between books, and presenting the entire two-book series at the best it could be. I learned a lot about the realities/logistics of publishing and making comics since I finished TCM, so I'm excited to be redeeming the webcomic sins of my naive past self and update TCM to the current standard of the rest of my author catalogue.

Right now I'm about 3/4 of the way of remastering the 600 pages. So close!! But I want to talk about the stuff I've already done for it!

Everything's under the cut if you are keen to hear me yap.

First thing I did for the remaster is a complete revamp of the title design. I designed the original in late 2015 - early 2016 when the webcomic began to form and never changed it. But the 10th anniversary means I can pull all the stops and go wild, especially now that I have improved in terms of design and all the skills needed to make a historical comic.

The old title was meant to evoke Ottoman calligraphic brushscript without being too cheesy. I carried this over in the new one - I still don't want it to be cheesy and I'd prefer to evoke the feel rather than the look of Ottoman/Arabic calligraphy, since the Eastern calligraphic arts (by this I mean non-Latin script. i.e China and Japan are also equally sophisticated) is no joke and I'd prefer not to attempt replicating linguistic brushstokes and patterns for Aesthetique. Not to mention Latin letters don't lend themselves to Eastern calligraphy very well.

Luckily, Latin calligraphy already exists. I wanted to include more of the 18th century English stylings of the comic into the title, and for this I looked at English Roundhand/Copperplate and the French Ronde. Lots of curlicues and flourish. The outcome is this more condensed almost stamp-like design.

The second thing I did is the book cover. I am not really sure what the final cover will look like as it's dependent on whether I get a publisher for this edition of TCM - but I've made a mockup for now!

The 10th anniversary cover has more of the Ottoman carpet influence compared to the previous covers for TCM. I'm thinking of weaving in the Rococo S-and-C leaf scrolls and other motifs into the cover too. We will see!

The third thing I did is update as many of the Turkish marbled pages as possible.

So Volume I has a fair number of marbled backgrounds - but I didn't have a lot of resources back then, so I drew all of those pages digitally. It's not authentic, per se, but it worked.

As part of the remastering, I want to emphasise the imperfect, hand-drawn, there's-a-person-behind-this feel of TCM. Not to say the personnage wasn't there before, but I wanted MORE of that, especially given the AI nonsense that's happening for the past 2 years.

So this time I went to a Turkish marbled pages workshop, taught by an ebru master (shoutout to Eslem at Anatolia Art Studio), to make my own pages ... the traditional way!

I made 6 prints, and they will be appearing in some shape or form in the final remaster. The first image at the top of this post - which is the title page - is one of those prints! The marbled pages aren't perfect - there is so much technical skill involved in transferring the prints from plastic container to paper, and I bunged that part up too much lol - but that fits the point of TCM as a project? It's all me, it's all the artist's handiwork, and it's imperfect, but that's what allows the love to show.

The fourth and final thing I will be yapping about is the actual remastering work.

Top is the 10th anniversary 2025 remaster. Bottom is 2016 version.

The differences are not that extravagant - any tweaks I am doing, including the relettering, is for consistency and clarity.

Mainly I just wanted to fix the colour sins I committed in the past. In 2016 I didn't have any idea what printing a comic entails and would require - so I naively coloured everything in RGB... and failed to consider how dark colours will print in a CMYK space and on paper... and there are a lot of DARK COLOUR SCENES!!!

Top is the 2025 fix. Bottom is the original.

You can imagine how poorly the original printed on paper. :)

It took me a month and a half to work on Volume I, as I had to reletter everything and implement so many colour fixes. Luckily Volume II has been easy, and with any luck I will be done with this project in March.

I am considering rerunning the webcomic at some point! Sound off if you want to reread TCM again. :3c