#his breaths per minute are normal though

[ayakashibackstreet]

350 words just like that, let's gooooo

[mariasont]

I love your fics so much! Could you maybe make a pre-relationship fic of Spencer x reader Spencer rescues the reader from the unsub and calms them down?? I'm a big hurt/comfort girly lmao 🫶🏼😛

Pulse Point - S.R

a/n: thank you so much!!!! so sorry for taking so long! i hope you like it <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: undescribed injury, lil bit of angst with a happy ish ending, pre-relationship ending

wc: 1.6k

Spencer had seen you in danger before. It came with the job—a stipulation of the unwritten contract you signed the day you joined the team. His mind had been conditioned to assess danger rationally, stripping away emotion to leave behind only what mattered: probabilities, outcomes, strategies. 

But then again seeing you, tied to that chair, unconscious and face drained of color, was something he wasn't sure any amount of mathematical modeling could prepare him for.

Your head had hung at an unnatural angle, the strands of hair clinging to the sweat slicking your skin in a way that sent a visceral wave of nausea rolling through him. Rope burns—thin, angry welts were already bruising—encircled your wrists. He couldn't breathe—his chest seized, ribs locking tight, as though his body itself couldn't handle the image of you in that state. The unsub's voice had faded into white noise, irrelevant against the single, all-encompassing command that had pounded in his head—get to you, get you out of here.

Now, sitting on the cold concrete of the clearing zone with you cradled against his chest, Spencer's mind spiraled in a loop—that singular thought repeating, relentless, fractal, like a Fibonacci sequence winding tighter and tighter around his sanity. The unsub was subdued—Morgan had handled it efficiently—but Spencer couldn't bring himself to focus on that, let alone process it. The edges of his awareness narrowed, his entire world reduced to you. Limp. Unresponsive. Alarmingly still. It made his heart pound so violently it felt like it might break him from the inside out.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking, a trembling he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried. One arm braced under your knees, the other pressed against the curve of your back. He adjusted his grip carefully, terrified of moving you the wrong way, terrified of doing anything that might make things worse. His eyes flicked to your chest, tracking the uneven rise and fall of your breathing. Too shallow. Too inconsistent. But there.

Twelve to twenty breaths per minute—that's the normal respiratory rate for an adult at rest, he recited, mind retreating to the relative safety of cold, clinical facts. Yours, he estimated, was faster—high twenties, maybe—an expected adrenaline response to trauma. It was within the acceptable range. It should have reassured him. As long as it didn't drop below eight or spike above thirty, there was no immediate cause for intervention. The logic was sound. The science was sound. But that did absolutely nothing to stem the gnawing unease twisting through him.

Then you started to stir.

It was subtle at first, so subtle he almost thought he imagined it—a small, almost imperceptible sound slipping past your lips, the softest shift of you head against his shoulder—but it sent a jolt through him nonetheless.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, the muscles in your face tightening with confusion as consciousness gradually took hold. Relief bloomed, but it died just as quickly. Recognition didn't follow. Instead, your expression twisted, your features contorting with something feral, something deeply afraid. Your breathing grew erratic, breaking into rapid, shallow bursts that rattled your frame.

And then you started thrashing.

"No, no—get off me!" Your voice cracked, raw with fear.

He tightened his arms just enough to stop you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, hey—stop! It's me—it's Spencer!"

You didn't react to his voice. It was as if you couldn't even hear him. Your body twisted violently, fighting something unseen, nails scraping at his vest, frantic and clawing, desperate to escape.

Spencer swallowed thickly, forcing himself to focus on what he knew. This was textbook trauma response. Cortisol and adrenaline were flooding your system, hijacking your prefrontal cortex, reducing your mind to survival instincts alone. It all made perfect sense—he could explain it in detail, rationalize it. But none of the logic in the world could prepare him for what it felt like to hold you like this and not be able to fix it.

"Look at me. It's Spencer. You're safe now. I promise, you're safe."

The words didn't seem to do much, falling flat and useless. Spencer felt a crushing helplessness as he watched, paralyzed while panic consumed you in a way he couldn't stop. His mind scrambled, clawing through years of knowledge, training, and case studies, all of which felt painfully inadequate now. It was one thing to understand trauma as a concept, to study it in a clinical detachment. It was another to watch it consume someone you cared about, to feel it in the way your body shook.

But then—finally—something shifted.

You froze. Not the rigid, terror-fueled panic from before, but something different. Tentative. Uncertain. Your breathing stuttered, still too fast, but the wildness in your eyes began to ebb like clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. You blinked, once, twice, and then your gaze locked onto his face, really seeing him this time.

"Spence..." Your voice was hardly above a whisper, like a fragile filament of sound, barely there but enough for his chest to ache all the same.

Relief washed over him so fast it left him lightheaded. 

"Yeah, it's me," he said softly, nodding quickly as though the motion itself might convince you. "It's just me. You're okay."

Wide eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, stared back at him as though searching for something—anything—to hold on to. The air felt like it was holding its breath, waiting. And then he saw it—the exact second the realization hit that you were safe. The fear in your face melted, replaced by something fragile, something breaking open. Your lip quivered, your breath hitching, and then, without a word, you lunged forward, throwing your arms around his neck.

Spencer froze.

He wasn't exactly new to your hugs. They didn't happen often—his aversion to touch usually kept that at bay—but when they did, they were always simple. After a particularly hard case or when the job felt overwhelming. But this? This was not that.

For a split second, his brain failed him entirely, unable to keep up with what he was seeing. He honed in on the small details—the way your hands clutched his shirt in tight, desperate fists, the way your trembling body seemed so much smaller than he ever remembered. He'd never seen you this way. The realization terrified him in ways he couldn't articulate.

But then that rare instinct of his took over.

With painstaking care, he wrapped his arms around you, like he was afraid you might break apart in his hands. One hand slipped to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, softer than he thought himself capable of. The other stayed pressed firmly against your back, holding you to him, refusing to let go—because letting go felt unthinkable, impossible. He leaned into you, his cheek brushing against the top of your head, breathing you in. The familiar scent of your shampoo was still there, but beneath it lingered something sharper, something more metallic that made his fingers sink deeper into the hold.

"It's okay," he murmured, every word scraping against the tightness in his throat. "I've got you I'm not going anywhere."

He felt the sharp hitch of your breath against his chest, followed moments later by the damp heat of tears soaking into his shoulder. You were crying. The realization hit him like a physical weight, and his arms tightened around you instinctively. He wasn't sure who was shaking anymore—you or him. Maybe both.

He shifted his hand slightly on your back, his thumb brushing against your shoulder blade. But even as he tried to comfort you, his brain kept ticking like clockwork, unable to stop itself. Your pulse—it was still too fast. He could feel in beneath the pad of his fingers, pounding just under the surface of your skin.

The medics needed to get here soon.

His fingers moved without thinking, sliding to your neck, pressing lightly against the artery there. He told himself it was necessary, just a routine check to make sure nothing was wrong, but he knew better. It was selfish—a desperate need to feel the beat of your pulse under his fingertips, to remind himself you were here. Alive. That the worst was behind you.

It was fast, just as he'd predicted, but steady. Stable. A good sign.

Spencer let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, shoulders sagging. 

"You're okay," he murmured softly, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince anymore.

He closed his eyes.

Minutes passed by, though they both felt impossibly long and far too short. You stayed against him just like that, breathing slowly evening out until the jagged edges of panic dulled into exhaustion. He said nothing more—words felt unnecessary, maybe even counterproductive. So he just held you.

When the sound of footsteps finally reached his ears, Spencer didn't move. Not until the medics appeared in his peripheral vision, and even then, he hesitated, tightening his grip on you for just a fraction of a second before forcing himself to let go.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. "The medics are here, okay? They're going to take care of you."

You nodded, but it was hesitant, your eyes swollen and puffy, and you clung to him just a little longer. Your hand wrapped around his sleeve like you were afraid to let go.

Spencer's eyes flicked to the medics, his voice low but insistent. "Be careful."

The medics nodded, stepping in to take over, and Spencer reluctantly released his hold. His arms felt empty, hollow, as they fell to his sides. Even as the medics worked, his gaze stayed glued to you, his eyes tracking every breath, every faint movement. He couldn't look away. Wouldn't.

It was then he realized a dangerous idea, that he cared about you more than he should, more than was professional. And it terrified him.

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @aecd27 @persephonestears @moonyxstars @xxmooxmooxx @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @jungchloee @she-wont-miss @duchesz @i2rapunzel @historicallyweirdandqueer

join my taglist here!

[ipseitydelrey]

cherry ☆ s. reid

ship spencer reid x afab!reader

content smut, period sex (kinda?), eating out (f!receiving), while on your period, it’s not that gross i swear, he’s a munch ur honour 🙇

word count 1.7k

summary usually during your period, you get really hot and bothered for no particular reason other than hormones. spencer offers to help out with your problem.

a/n im posting this directly after seeing a show at the moulin rouge, it’s currently 2am; this was inspired by my experience at the eras tour in stockholm

Periods are hell for you. Not just because of the cramps, or the blood, but because you just get so horny.

Now, to others it’s completely normal to masturbate while their periods are happening, either with a fingers or with a toy. Period sex is also a thing you’ve heard of, even from your friends who have often recommended the activity.

But to you, doing anything remotely like that, either by yourself or with anyone else, is a no. Mostly because of the messiness and how troublesome it would be to clean it up. So instead of getting relief by just touching youself, you always decide to wait until your period is finished to start doing sexual activities again. Besides, you only just have to go a few days without stimulation.

But this week is hard. You have the urge to just rip your underwear off and play with your clit until your wrist starts to ache all the time. It’s pure agony for you, and sometimes you find youself clenching your thighs together, or pushing your heel against your clothed pussy to get some sort of relief.

In the middle of your monthly period, one day is especially hard. You’re laying on the couch with a heating pad on your abdomen, your hair hidden in your drawstring hood, and your legs on your boyfriend Spencer’s thighs while he reads a book at 20,000 words per minute. He sometimes glances up at you from his novel whenever you squirm a bit, though you’re not sure if he thinks you’re just in pain from your cramps or if he’s able to read through you.

Besides, you know for a fact that your boyfriend won’t help you get off while you’re on your period. Spencer’s known to have a thing with germs, so there’s no way that he’ll touch your pussy, especially if it’s bleeding.

The next time you shift slightly and whine softly, Spencer closes his book and sets it down on the coffee table. “Are you okay, honey?”

“‘M okay,” you respond, your voice muffled by your pillow being cuddled in your arms. You unintentionally clench your thighs together at his caring voice which unfortunately, Spencer notices.

“You sure?” He gently massages your calf, which only adds fuel to the fire. You hate that he’s a profiler now. “Just cramps?”

“Mmph…” You nods your head a bit as you hide your face in the pillow, trying to hide your soft blush.

“Maybe you’re aroused?” He asks suddenly. One of his hands moves up your leg to squeeze your thigh. Profilers.

Again, you nod your head, defeated since he can so clearly see how horny you are. “Mm-hmm.”

“I see,” he mutters under his breath, but you can hear him. Disproving your previous judgements about him, he shifts his position so that he’s directly facing you, leaving one of your legs to hang off the couch and allowing him to be between your legs.

You pull the pillow down to your chest, wanting to see what he’s trying to achieve. “What’re you doing?” you ask, your eyebrow cocked.

“Can I help you?” Spencer suggests, his hands planted on your upper thighs, close to your core.

“With what?”

“You’re aroused,” he points out again. “And you’re in pain. Studies have shown that orgasms can help subside period cramps.”

Oh, that’s probably why your friends keep recommending period sex. But you feel too tired for full-on penetration right now. Yet again, he could maybe help you in another way. “Are you sure? It’s gonna be messy, and I know you don’t like germs, and I just feel gross.” You argue self-deprecatingly.

“Well I can put a towel down.” He gets up from his position between your legs and goes off to the bathroom. From the couch, you can hear him opening cupboards before he comes back with a black towel in hand. He continues with what he was saying. “And I want to help you. It’s not gross, it’s natural. I want to make you feel good. Here, lift up your hips.”

He puts a hand on your hip to guide you as you lift your bottom half up just enough for him to place a towel down and make sure it’s flat before he guides you back down. The towel is only just there if you say yes though, which he eagerly awaits before he does anything else to you.

You sigh, and figure that this might be worth a shot. You drop the pillow to the ground in front of the couch, quickly followed by the heating pad that was on your stomach. “Okay, fine,” you say as enthusiastically as you can which, with your cramps and your tiredness, isn’t really that enthusiastic.

Still, Spencer mouths a silent “thank you” before he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants. You lift your hips up once more to make it easier when he tugs them down and off, leaving you in your underwear. Following the same pattern, he once again pulls your period panties off, and you let your hips settle onto the towel-covered couch.

His hands find their way between your thighs and he spreads them just enough for him to have access to your core, wet from your arousal and your blood. The five seconds he spends just staring at your vulnerable pussy, dripping blood onto the towel, are the most nerve-wracking five seconds of your life. You halfway convince yourself that he’s going to back out and leave you like this, horny and bloody with your pants off.

And yet, he buries his head between your legs and starts by gently kissing your heat, then licking a long stripe from the base of your slit all the way up to your sensitive clit, causing an equally long moan to erupt from the depths of your throat.

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” he says before he dives back in again, drawing circles around your bundle of nerves with his tongue before he traps it between his lips and suckles.

You kick your legs up a bit when he focuses on your clit, the stimulation to your sensitive bud ripping sudden moans from your lips. Your hands find their way to the top of his head and you grasp on to his hair tight.

He looks up at you through his lashes, still working his lips around your clit before he moves his tongue down to your slit, licking a bit before thrusting it into your wet cunt. His thumb replaces where his tongue was before, rubbing small tight circles around the bud.

You can’t believe how good he’s making you feel right now, and you can feel your pleasurable knot in your stomach tightening because of his undeserved-but-needed efforts. You don’t know if he’s doing this for you just to be helpful — considering his complicated personal relationship with germs and the like — or if he just really enjoys eating your pussy this much. With each second that passes by having Spencer lapping at your cunt like a man starved, you start to think that it’s the latter thought.

And he can tell you like it too, with the way you moan and arch your back and even when you start to grind your clit against your nose while his tongue is deep in your pussy. Even if you’re wearing a baggy hoodie and were wearing sweatpants, he still manages to make you feel incredibly sexy. Or “sexy” is maybe not the right word — loved; you feel loved in this moment.

He appears to feel the same as well, with the way he moans in content seeing you like this and feeling your fingers nestled in his hair and tugging lightly. With every small pull, a tiny sound emits from his throat and it feels oh so pleasurable on your pussy.

Sensing your impending orgasm, he takes his tongue, wet by your slick and blood, out of your weeping hole and quickly replaces the muscle with his index finger. He slowly pushes the digit in, feeling your walls pulsate around him as he pushes and pulls it in and out in a steady rhythm. A minute later, he adds a second and starts to curl his fingers against that gooey button inside your cunt once he’s knuckle-deep into your warmth.

It’s so much for you; almost too much. Your jaw hangs open in a silent moan and you almost can’t believe it when you start to grind your hips against his thrusting fingers, fucking yourself with his index and middle as it continuously and without fail hits the spongy button everytime.

Your orgasm hits you almost unexpectedly, a wave of pleasure overflows you as your eyes flutter shut and your back arches just a bit more. Your chest heaves while you gasp for air; this is just what you needed during your period. Seeing you’re damn near overwhelmed, Spencer works you through your orgasm, your arousal forming a creamy circle around his still-working fingers.

“There we go, that’s it, you’re doing so well” are among the small praises he breathes onto your pussy while you slowly but surely come down from the high. At the same speed, his fingers slow down until they become stationery, before he pulls them out with a wet squelch, causing you to whimper softly. When your eyes meet next, he can see how glossy your eyes are with satisfcation pulling at the corners of your lips.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You half-lie with a small laugh trailing behind your words. Though to be fair, you definitely needed it.

He pulls himself up to be eye level with you while you’re still laying there on your back catching your breath. You can already see a mixture of your arousal and your blood dribbling down his chin, though he doesn’t seem to mind all that much. “No, but I wanted to.” He says with a dopey smile, still pussy drunk.

Though the lower half of his face is still covered by your juices, he tries to lean in and kiss you, only to be stopped by your hands on his shoulders and you turn your head to the side with an amused smile. “Ew! I don’t wanna taste my blood!”

Spencer scoffed playfully at your reaction. “I just ate you out and I don’t even get a kiss?”

The way he pleads just makes you melt a little and you decide to give in just a bit by gently kissing his cheek. You can feel his cheeks heat up against your lips. Despite his previous openness, he gets flustered and smiles sheepishly, sighing a little. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” you joke, your mouth still planted on his cheek.

i’ve been plane-hopping around europe for over a month so i haven’t had a lot of access to wifi + i nearly failed one of my courses bc my professor was horrible at giving feedback, hopefully this explains my absence and i hope u enjoyed this !! (i posted this in a flurry btw, lmk if there are any errors whatsoever 🫶)

taglist @queermaxwooo @theoraekenslover join the taglist!

[mpreglover225]

[Newly Declassified Document from U.S. Army Medical Corps Archives, 1944 Subject: Medical Assessment Report — Pvt. Andrew “Drew” Matthews (Service No. 5XXXX) Date: May 10, 1944 Location: Field Hospital, Western Front

Background & Context

Private Andrew “Drew” Matthews, 18, is currently serving overseas under the U.S. Army. Initial enlistment was in late 1943. He has been under periodic medical review following the discovery of an unexpected pregnancy while stationed in-theater. According to the most recent examinations, Pvt. Matthews is now at approximately seven months gestation. This update provides a detailed assessment of his physical condition, with particular focus on rectal and hip adaptations pertinent to male pregnancy.

Current Medical Evaluation

General Physical Status

Vital Signs:

Blood Pressure: 115/76 (stable)

Pulse: 84 BPM (slightly elevated but within normal pregnancy parameters)

Respiration: 18 breaths per minute

Weight Gain: 18 pounds above initial enlistment baseline (notable increase from previous month, consistent with advancing gestation).

Gestational Progress

Estimated 28 weeks (7 months). The uterine and lower abdominal growth is consistent with typical third-trimester developments in male pregnancy.

Fetal heart tones remain strong on auscultation (~146 BPM). Fetal movements reported to be frequent, especially in the evenings.

Rectal Examination

Pvt. Matthews reports periodic pressure and heaviness in the rectal canal, especially when standing or marching for extended periods.

On gentle palpation, the rectum shows increased vascularity and mild swelling, which is not unusual in the late stages of male pregnancy. However, care must be taken to prevent or manage potential hemorrhoids, given added strain in this region.

The anal sphincter demonstrates normal tone, though Pvt. Matthews describes occasional episodes of discomfort—likely linked to fetal positioning and the downward pressure exerted by the growing child.

Hip and Pelvic Girdle Assessment

Complaints of hip soreness and lower back ache have intensified since last examination (one month prior). This is attributed to gradual pelvic widening and the shifting center of gravity.

Physical palpation indicates mild ligament laxity around the hip joints—a natural adaptation in male pregnancies as the body prepares for labor.

Pvt. Matthews experiences discomfort when required to traverse uneven terrain or stand in formation for extended durations. He reports temporary relief with short seated rests and mild stretches.

Nutritional and Environmental Factors

Wartime rationing complicates access to fresh produce, but additional calorie allowances have been arranged.

Daily supplements (when available) include powdered milk, iron tablets, and occasionally vitamin-fortified biscuits. Pvt. Matthews has been instructed to remain vigilant about hydration, as dehydration can exacerbate swelling and discomfort.

Duty Restrictions and Lifestyle

Currently assigned to administrative duties at a rear-echelon facility to minimize prolonged standing and heavy lifting.

Recommended low-impact movements: occasional short walks, gentle pelvic exercises, and if feasible, daily check-ins with medical staff for observation.

Sleep remains inconsistent due to frequent nighttime fetal activity and shared barracks noise, though Pvt. Matthews states he manages intermittent rest as best he can.

Psychological Outlook

Pvt. Matthews displays a mix of resolve and concern. He expresses worry about the stigma associated with his pregnancy and the uncertainty of how the child will be cared for if deployment conditions worsen.

Reports a sense of relief in having official medical oversight. Limited but consistent morale support from select squadmates and some discreet chaplain consultations appear beneficial.

Recommendations

Rectal & Hip Care

Moderate Rest: Schedule routine seated breaks to alleviate rectal pressure.

Support Garments: A supportive belt or band around the lower abdomen may reduce strain on hips and rectal canal.

Warm Compresses: Applied to the lower back and hips can mitigate soreness; for rectal discomfort, brief sitz baths or mild topical ointments (when resources permit).

Continued Nutritional Support

Maintain priority rations and supplements. Encourage iron- and protein-rich foods to prevent anemia and support fetal growth.

Ensure hydration, especially given increased metabolic demands at seven months.

Monitoring and Follow-Up

Regular monthly checks, or sooner if rectal swelling increases or if new symptoms arise (e.g., significant bleeding, severe pelvic pain).

Coordinate with field hospital staff to prepare for potential labor or complications, given the unusual deployment environment.

Emotional and Social Support

Where possible, arrange for discreet counseling. Encourage Pvt. Matthews to continue confiding in chaplain or trusted medical personnel, minimizing isolation.

If feasible, discuss postpartum logistics with commanding officers to ensure the newborn’s welfare and Pvt. Matthews’s postpartum recovery.

Conclusion

At seven months pregnant, Pvt. Matthews remains in stable condition with no immediate red flags detected aside from typical third-trimester challenges. Symptoms such as rectal heaviness, hip soreness, and general fatigue reflect the normal physiological adaptations of late-stage male pregnancy. Ongoing support, both medical and logistical, will be crucial to ensure a safe outcome for both father and child as wartime circumstances persist.

Signed,

Capt. Robert H. Nolan, M.D.

U.S. Army Medical Corps, Western Front

[godhandler]

Accurate!Gojo Satoru has been trying his level hardest the past half an hour and yet–and yet– he just cannot get it up.

Pretty dress, gorgeous. Can I take a closer look? Dashing man, albino hair and teeth stained red, black, green, blue under the club lighting. Angelic. Preferably back at my place? 

“You’ll have a good time", my ass. Gojo imagines you mocking him in your head. Deservedly, he’ll grant, he did talk up a big game, all the teasing and squeezing and grinding and kissing up until he actually had to perform. 

“Should I go down on you again? That seemed to help.” Your smile makes his face burn even more. So sweet, so genuinely helpful. 

“Yeah…” 

Your hair brushes his thighs as you lean down to softly thumb down his foreskin off the tip, pressing kisses to his length and baby-licks against the slit. It feels really fucking good; Gojo can’t help groaning at the first contact, it’s just– 

What? What is it? You’re dripping sex on legs, hotter than he deserves– the cowlick at your nape, the blush on your cleavage, the juicy fat of your thighs, your drooping eyes... you've got him choking on his breath. His Six Eyes tell him it’s safe, you have no hidden weapons nor ill-intentions to kill him the second he lets all his Infinity down (let’s be honest, you couldn't either way). Nor is there a sniper on a roof waiting to shoot him through the window. No recording devices, no bombs planted in this hastily-rented hotel room (not that he can stop checking every 5 minutes). So what is it?

“I’m sorry.” You abandon your efforts for a moment, looking up with those kohl-rimmed eyes. “It’s really not you, you’re gorgeous and I mean it, it’s just–” There’s no trace of the cocky playboy you assumed he was back at the club. He’s stuttering for God’s sake. “I– I just can’t relax.” 

“Ah!” It’s clearly not something you’ve ever faced before. Obviously not, man, look at her. “Um, do you want a smoke… or, uh–”

“No, sorry, I don’t smoke. Or drink. My job’s kinda hectic, so I need to be on call 24/7, always prepared, you know?” Not a lie per se. It’s just difficult to bring up that you’re the strongest jujutsu sorcerer on the planet when your disappointed one night stand doesn’t even know about jujutsu in the first place.  

“This is a first.” You cock your head at him, still smiling. “Never met anyone so high-strung they can’t even get hard, let alone smoke.”

It’s normal behaviour for 20 year old young men, especially the rich and the handsome ones such as him, to go to the club, party, pick up chicks, have wild sex, walk of shame the next morning. He’s seen it in movies. He’s heard his peers brag about it.

Just one night of normal, he’d told himself, then back to being Gojo Satoru. 

As the matter rests now, Mr. Gojo Satoru’s foray into normal human behaviours has been officially an embarrassing flop. 

“I can pay for the Uber.” There’s no saving the situation. His dick– no, penis, he decides, it doesn’t deserve an honourable name anymore. His penis doesn’t look like it'll rise to the occasion any time soon, so the best he can do is be a damn gentleman. For the sake of his manly ego, he’ll cleanse his memory of this shameful encounter. “Sorry about this.”

Maybe he should start preparing for his lessons the next day. He’s gonna teach barrier techniques. 

“Kicking me out so soon?” You joke, even though you’re already picking your bra off the floor. Not your first rodeo. “How rude of you, cute Satoru-chan.”

He giggles. “Unless you want to stay? We can Netflix and chill, literally.” Is this normal human behaviour? Looking at your smile, he realises that he doesn’t give a shit. 

“I want popcorn, extra butter.” “Okie, madam!” 

a/n: election results so bad had to write gojo being a moshi moshi schoolgirl with ed just to feel something.

[reikaryu]

a quiet new year’s eve with hoshi

fluff, established relationship, clingy!soonyoung, soonyoung is so cuddly I want to squish him, one swear, talks about marriage

this is my gift to @wabatle as part of the carat secret santa exchange! it’s rather late but things have been so busy recently 😞 anywho, happy new year to everyone! and to emi, I hope we can get closer ☺️

This year’s plan had been a little different compared to previous ones. For starters, your outgoing introvert boyfriend was cramming all his end-of-year meet-ups into the few days preceding New Year’s. He wanted to spend New Year’s Eve all alone with you.

But even then, your day was spent huddled up in your shared apartment, atmosphere less lively than usual. Alexa was taking a well deserved break from blasting songs all day, save for the occasional dim of lights.

Soonyoung would normally be bitching and groaning at the lack of enthusiasm for the new year, but this time, he was perfectly content with spending it lowkey — so long as he got to spend it with you.

He climbed out of bed slowly, lifting the covers off of his slender body before setting his feet down on the floor. With little energy, he exited the bedroom, blindly following the faint sounds of your kitchen shenanigans.

When he arrived at the doorway, his eyes landed on your form, moving about the kitchen with mugs and spoons in your hand. His line of sight shifted to the container sitting on the island: Super Good Hot Chocolate (SAVE FOR SPECIAL DAYS!)

He chuckled at the memory of you scribbling down those words in marker. The mix wasn’t even that expensive.

Your serene bubble seemed to be disturbed at his low laugh. You spinned in the spot, staring at him like a deer in headlights. He was going to laugh aloud, but all he did was give a bright smile that turned his eyes into crescents.

Your tense form relaxed at the relief that he wasn’t an intruder. Turning your attention back to your little project, you mumbled, “Scared the shit out of me … Thought I was gonna have to sacrifice my hot cocoa …”

Soonyoung took light steps towards you, wrapping his muscular arms around your torso and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Hmm? What was that?” he all but hummed, finding comfort in the warmth you radiated.

Shaking your head, you dismissed his question and focused on making your drinks.

You had a foolproof plan in your head: finish up the sure to be delicious hot cocoas and cuddle with your boyfriend on the couch. Maybe turn on a show, or just ramble with Soonyoung.

But he seemed to have other plans. His eyes drooped, his breathing steadied and his hold on your body began to loosen. Was he falling asleep on you? Standing up?

“Soonie.” You prodded his head with a finger, praying that he was at least seventy per cent awake so you wouldn’t have to carry his heavy form to the bedroom. Soonyoung stirred, mumbling an incoherent “Hold still,” before smushing his face into the crook of your neck.

Warmth bloomed like a flower in your chest, settling right where your heart was situated. Heat travelled up to your cheeks, staining your skin a faint red.

Stumbling over your words, even though this had happened a hundred times before, you said tenderly, “Soonyoung, you— I can’t— Ugh … Whatever.” You gave up, sighing with a light shake of your head, but there was a smile on your lips. Soonyoung must have heard the fondness in your voice, because he pressed his face further into your neck.

You finished up the hot drinks with your boyfriend clinging to your body. Surprisingly, when you attempted to move the two of you to the living room, he obliged and followed your footsteps.

Fast forward to twenty minutes later, your legs were tangled with Soonyoung’s, bodies close enough to hear each other’s heartbeat. Your hot cocoas were left on the glass coffee table right in front of the couch, the steaming mug already halfway to emptiness.

“Babe?” you heard him mutter out beside you. With a snuggle closer to him, you acknowledged his call. “I can see a forever with you.”

The sentence caught you off guard, but you didn’t shift from your position. You replied the only way you knew how. “Me too, Soonie. But why so suddenly?”

He hummed in response, thinking about his answer. He didn’t know. He just said whatever was in his head.

“I thought about doing this every year with you,” he said with a smile that you could feel against your hair, “and then I thought: Hey, that doesn’t seem too bad at all. I’d love doing this with you every year. Hell, even every day.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his confession.

You turned in his embrace, staring up at him with adoration in your eyes. He smiled at you, and that feeling of warmth bloomed once again.

“Maybe propose to me first,” you suggested in lightheartedness, almost combusting at the expression on Soonyoung’s face. He hadn’t expected that, but his reply said otherwise.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been planning that since I met you.”

You were about to counter him with an accusation of weirdness, but he shut you up with a sweet kiss on your lips. You melted into him, unable to help the smile that spread across your lips.

Caught in each other’s love and affection, the two of you missed the fireworks that set off outside your window. But no matter — you’ll have plenty more to witness in the future.

hoshi will kiss you if you reblog ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ

[kaceythecrunch]

・┆Night. ☾ M.S┆ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

FLUFF. FLUFF. FLUFF. FLUFFFFFFFFFFFF

Summary : you and Matt doing your nightly routine!

W/C : 1.2k+

Y/N'S POV :

9:30 

Currently, spinning around on my boyfriend’s gaming chair. As I sit upon his chair, I'm scrolling through edits of Matt, per usual. Until I was interrupted by his faint breathing on my shoulder.

“AAH. WHAT THE FUCK.” I yell, frantically closing tiktok. He looks at me, then my phone, then back to me. I could tell he was slightly concerned. “You’re such a weirdo for watching edits of me. I mean the editors are pretty talented. They also help me, Nick and Chris–” 

I laugh as he continues on his yapping.  Usually, I don't interrupt him when he's yapping because I know he doesn’t get to run his mouth sometimes. “Alright Mr.Yapper, ya’ ready to go to bed??” he closed his eyes. I could tell he was tired.  

“Can you help me, I'm too tired.” he says in a sleepy voice. “You want me to do your skincare for you??” He usually doesn’t like when I do stuff for him because apparently, “I apply it wrong.” He nods. 

I get up from his chair, holding his hands as I drag him to our bathroom. I sit on the counter and start reaching for the skin care. “Wait. Before that. Can you shave my beard for me? I'm tired of beard-Matt right now.” I laugh at his statement. “No more big beard bernard.” I say, as I make fun of him. I glide my fingers on his tattoos as he looks at me unamused. 

I grab one of my headbands and put it around Matt. Of course, I picked the best one I have. The one with kitty cat ears. “What the fuck is this shit.” he looks in the mirror disgusted. “It's just a headband.” I say, looking at him. “It looks so distorted..Why not pick a normal one.” he asks. “You look cute in it, shut up.”

“OKAY. Now, lemme start.” I grab the shaving cream and squirt it all on my hands. I turn to Matt as he is leaning on the sink. Propping himself up with his hands. I bring the shaving cream to his cheeks and glide my fingers on his face. Making sure everything gets covered. I laugh at him as he is scrunching his face. 

I grab the razor and gently shave off his beard. His face scrunches even more. “Hey, stop moving Matt! I don’t wanna cut you!” He opens his eyes slightly, not wanting to move his mouth. Even if he was only opening his eyes, I could easily tell what he was trying to say. 

10:23

It took almost 20 minutes, but voila. Matt makes a frowny face. “HEY! I did the job, right? Plus,  your beard is fully shaved off like you asked. Don’t make that face at me!! I literally did you a favor.” I say, as I pinch his cheek softly. “I know, I know, I'm just messing with you.” he says, smiling. “Tonight, just moisturizer and cleanser. If you want, we could do a face mask too.”

I look at him smiling. “It makes me so happy that you know what skincare is and how to do it. You know, I think we should try the charcoal mask since you just shaved.” He looks at me concerned. “Yeah, no way. I'm not gonna fucking do that shit.” I plead, “But like, there's so many benefits!” I tell him, as I rub the moisturizer on his face. “Like what. Bringing me excruciating pain? Yeah, I’ll pass.” 

10:45

I wash both of our faces and start to apply cleaner on the both of us. “Okay, I’ll give you a nickel if you do the mask.” I try to bargain. “Dude, what the fuck am I gonna do with a nickel? Play heads or tails?” He says unamused. “Okay calm down lover-boy. Chill with the mattitude.” I say, laughing at him. “Bro….” I jokingly mock him. “Bro…” I start to rub the moisturizer on his face. “Okay,” he says, I smile knowing he finally gave in. “I’ll try the mask. Under one condition though.” I slightly frowned as I stopped rubbing in the cleanser.

“You’re such a kid for that. Why is there a condition?” I roll my eyes at him. “YOU WANT ME TO BE IN EXCRUCIATING PAIN. IT'S ONLY FAIR.” I frown. “Fineeee what's my punishment..” “Can you please do the chores that Chris is supposed to do, that I DO.” I look at him, slightly annoyed. But, I agree.

11:17

I rub the cleanser off of mine, and his face. I then reach for the cup and the spatula. “Okay Matt, are you ready?” He shakes his head no. “Well you did agree to this.” I open the container and glide the spread on his face with the spatula. “I think it's stupid how we’re using a spatula. This isn’t spongebob.” I laugh, “who is your favorite spongebob character?” I think for a moment, still making sure the charcoal evens out on his face. “Low-key, I fuck with sandy. She’s a bad bitch.” He laughs, “For me, I think I like spongebob. I heavily fuck with the popsicle.” 

11:30

We finish applying the charcoal mask on both of our faces. “Is it done?” He looks slightly nervous, bouncing his foot up and down. “Almost, give it I don't know, 5 more minutes? I’m pretty sure that this is supposed to stay for about 20 minutes.” 

11:37

I turn to Matt, “I believe it's done. Do you wanna rip mine off first?” I give him an option. “YES.” He says. He rests one of his hands on my shoulders pressing down on it, so he could pull harder on the mask with the other. He grabs the mask on the side of my cheek attempting to rip it off in one slick movement. Which doesn't go according to plan. “OUCH WHAT THE FUCK-” he looks at me. “No no, trust me. This is all pure strategy.” My face is scrunched up as he only got one of my cheeks free. He then switches hands and tries to pull off the other side of the face mask. Of course, the whole thing did not come off in one tug. “FUCKING HELL MATT, OUCH.” he looks at me confused. “I thought that the harder I tug the faster I get it off?” 

12:40

This took quite a while But specifically the mask came off. There were some pieces that weren’t pulled off, but that's a problem for another time. I look at Matt with a devious look. “It's my turn!” I look at him and smile. Without warning I pull at the very top, his forehead and tug. This time, it did all come off in one simple gesture. “FUCK” Matt yells. My jaw dropped. “Okay, the case is closed. You just put the mask wrong on me, clearly.”  Matt laughs, “Whatever. It was hard to apply. I'm never doing that again though. My cheeks are so red, holy shit.” He places his hands on his cheeks. “Are yours also warm?” He places his hands on my cheek. “Damn.” I look at him, pretty tired. “I love you.” I put my hands on his cheeks and give him a kiss. He pulls out. “I love you too” as he smiles back at me

A/N : Hey, seems like you made it to the end! I'm a new writer lol so if you enjoyed this, you should totally yk flood my inbox w/ ideas! Also I hope this is good cuz I'm a Chris girl..I was just, feeling it. ykwim. Also, If yall wanna be on taglist just commenttt. anyways, thank you!

Taglist :

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

[justauthoring]

and i wonder... who? [5]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: sooooo satosugu won the poll so this is officially a satosugu x reader series! (just might be a bit of slowwww burnnn)

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader, satosugu x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma - @xxannyxx - @kaeyaviado - @kochochan-shinobulvrrs - @ichikanu - @valeriinee let me know if you'd like to added! also i still don't know how to fix the tags - it works in editing but doesn't link some when i post it. if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know!

It was hot.

Blindingly so.

Still, you refused to take off your sweater even if you desperately wanted to. You were just thankful that your school allowed you to wear sweaters and hoodies over top of uniforms without getting in trouble for it and although normally that was something you only had to worry about in the winter, you had no choice but to today.

If you took off your sweater, then people would see the finger-sized marks across your arms from Sukuna yesterday and really, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with the questions that would inevitably follow. Nor did you want to… let it escalate any further. Sure, you’d managed to get away yesterday and had somehow gained the courage to make your breakup clear to Sukuna, but it didn't erase the fact that he’d scared you last night. And you didn’t want to imagine what would happen if somehow people got word that the bruises on your arms were from him.

It was over, anyways. You’d done it. You’d broken up with him and could now move on from him.

Move on with your life.

“You look hot,” Shoko comments from beside you, regarding you with a raised brow. “Why are you wearing a sweater when it’s blistering hot outside?”

Meeting her eyes, you shrug. “It isn’t that hot.”

“You’re sweating,” she deadpans.

Biting your lip, you choose to ignore the fact that she is very much correct. Your sweater is sticking to your skin from the obnoxious sun that is beating right over your head and the need to relieve some of the heat is more than tempting. But the sight of Sukuna running past you, meeting his dark and intimidating eyes just briefly, reminds you of why you’re keeping your sweater on.

“I just finished running,” you explain which, you guessed, wasn’t completely a lie. You were sweating because you’d just finished running but you were sweating a lot because of that and the fact that you were wearing a sweater… Shoko didn’t need to know that though. 

Meeting her eyes from the corner of your own, you nod to yourself. “I’m actually a little cold.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you breathe, fighting the urge to break under her intense stare. You didn’t even need to be looking directly at her to feel the intensity of it – if there was one thing Shoko was good at, it was seeing through your every lie. You figured that talent came with knowing you for as long as she had… still didn’t make it any less scary thought.

“Like a cold sweat.”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you, the suspicious gaze in her eyes never wavering but she has the decency to leave it at that.

You’re incredibly thankful for that fact.

“So, you really did break it off with Ryoumen, huh?”

The two of you are standing by the bleachers while the boys have their turn playing soccer, as per your teachers instructions. The game has been going on for about five minutes now (you only just finally feeling like you’re not about to pass out) and you’ve been spending those five minutes idly chatting with Shoko and desperately trying not to ogle Geto who looks a little too good on the field right now.

Seriously, when did you start to find him attractive?

It wasn’t like you didn’t know he was attractive — of course you did. The whole female population of your school knew that Geto Suguru was attractive. You’re pretty sure he had his own little fanclub of girls that followed him around and you swear you’ve caught one of them asking him out in the hallway more times than you care to admit. So yes, objectively, you knew Geto was attractive. Incredibly attractive.

But you hadn’t really paid any of that mind until now.

It was like a fact. A statement. It hadn’t had any impact on you previously, and yet, here you were, practically drooling at the sight of him.

“–Hello? Y/N?”

A hand falls on your shoulder, the sudden touch making you jump as your eyes snap to Shoko. She’s staring back at you in concern, head tilted and brows furrowed as you blink over at her.

“I asked you a question?”

Had she?

Eyes briefly glancing back at Geto before focusing on her, you rub the back of your neck.

“Whoops,” you mumble bashfully, “sorry. What was it again? I… spaced out.” 

Rolling her eyes, Shoko just snorts; “I asked if you really did break things off with Sukuna.”

“Oh!” Your eyes instantly brighten up, turning to face her fully. “I did!”

Shoko grins; “yes!” Pumping her fist in the air, she turns to you. “I’ve literally been waiting for you to do that forever.”

Rolling your eyes, you just snort. “I know, I know,” you wave her off, before pausing. You had no intention of telling her about how angry Sukuna had gotten, but it would be good to get it off your chest even a little. You just wouldn’t mention the bruise thing—besides, Shoko had said she wanted every little detail. 

So, turning to her, you grin; “it was so awkward though and—”

“Shoko!”

Lips left parted in the middle of your sentence, both you and Shoko glance behind her, only to see a group of girls from another class waving at her to grab her attention. The excitement on your face fades somewhat at that, leaning back on your feet as Shoko waves back at them before glancing over at you apologetically,

“I—”

“It’s all good,” you brush off before she can apologize, waving her concern away. “Go. I’ll wait here for you.”

Shoko hesitates. “Are you sure?”

Shaking your head, you squeeze her shoulder; “of course. Go.”

With one more hesitant glance your way, Shoko nods, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before making her way over. You watch her for a moment longer before letting your eyes fall around, eyes momentarily meeting Sukuna’s and swiftly turning your head away, you move, making your way over to the bleachers on the side of the field. A few of the other girls from your class have sat down, chatting amongst themselves, and with nothing better to do, you take a seat near a corner, pulling your legs to your chest and opting to simply watch the boys.

You knew Shoko cared about you, just like you cared about her but it sucked knowing that some of the other girls wanted to be her friend but didn’t want to be yours. Anytime you’d tried to talk with her other friends before, it had just been awkward. And not something you wanted to repeat.

Sighing, you let your head fall on top of your knees.

At least you could watch Geto with no interruptions now.

“Boo!”

Or not…

Flickering your gaze to the right, your lips part when you realize it’s Gojo sitting beside you.

“Gojo!”

With a wide grin and a wink, Gojo offers you a wave.

You glance around before settling back on him, baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh… here for gym class?” Gojo explains with a snort, using his thumb to point behind him and following his direction, your lips part when you see a group of girls occupying the field next to the one you’re sitting in front of. Focusing back on Gojo and the line sheen of sweat covering his skin, you put the pieces together.

“Oh,” your lips form a ‘o’, “I forgot other classes had gym at the same time as us.” Cheeks warming, you bite your lip, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in embarrassment.

Gojo takes a moment to eye you before laughing; “you’re weird, you know that?”

Lips parting in offense, you shove at his shoulder; “that’s rude!”

“No,” Gojo laughs, your shove barely moving him an inch, “what’s rude is you calling me Gojo.”

Confused, you turn to him; “is that not your name?”

“It is,” he assures, “but it’s too formal. I thought I made it clear; call me Satoru.”

You’re sure your face grows hot at that.

“B-But! That’s too friendly!” You argue, waving your hands in front of you widely. “We only just started talking and—”

“And we’re already close,” Gojo cuts in, smiling cheekily. “So what’s the problem?”

Shoulders slumping, you just frown at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo just takes the insult in stride, leaning in close so his face is right in front of yours. You instinctively lean back, surprised by his sudden closeness as you press against the side of the bleachers. It doesn’t seem to bother Gojo who only grows closer; you can feel his side press into your arm and his leg knock into your folded one, not to mention all you can see is those bright, beautiful blue eyes staring at you.

“U-um…—”

“And you’re adorable.”

Okay, now you’re sure you’re red in the face.

“G-Gojo–!”

“Satoru,” he cuts in, waving his finger at you. “Repeat after me. Sa-To-Ru.”

You stare back at him, wishing he’d back up even a little because he was too close and it was making you feel a way you didn't know how to react to. You’d already been sweating because of the damn sweater before, but now you probably look like a hot mess and your mind is running a mile a minute just to come up with something to say.

“Come on,” Gojo sings softly, voice low so only you can hear but still sweet and soft. “Say it.”

Lips parting, you ignore the racing of your heart; “Sa… Satoru.”

With a sudden jump, he’s pulled back, sitting up straight next to you as he grins wide, ear to ear; “see?” He exclaims, “that wasn’t so hard. It’s much better if you just call me by my first name, kay, Y/N?”

You’re frazzled. You know you’re frazzled. Even though Gojo has leaned back like you wanted him to, your heart is still racing and you feel flushed. 

Was it just your imagination or had he also smelled really good?

“O-okay.”

Pleased by your answer, Gojo finally lets his eyes wander down, pausing when he sees what you’re wearing.

“Aren’t you warm?”

Oh god… not this again.

“No,” you deny with a shake of your head, hugging yourself. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Gojo just quirks a brow. “You look warm.” He states bluntly.

You huff — what was with everyone questioning you on wearing a damn sweater? Was it that hard to believe?

“For your information—”

You stop what you’re saying the second a shadow falls over you, completely blocking the sun from falling over you. Confused, you turn, only to pause when you see it’s Geto. You blink at the sight of him, confused, not having expected to see him, glancing over his shoulder to the field to see, like you thought, the rest of the boys are still playing and yet…

“Geto—”

“Did you bring my hoodie?”

His voice is harsh. Harsher than you expected. By the way he falters the second he meets your eyes properly, you figure he didn’t mean to sound that angry but you’re still confused as to why he even would be in the first place.

Was he upset you hadn’t given him the hoodie back earlier?

You also have not failed to notice how still Gojo is beside you suddenly.

“U-Um… Yeah, it’s in my bag. One sec.”

Reaching behind you to grab your bag, you’re oblivious to the way Gojo and Geto glare at each other, each with a certain fierceness and determination in their gaze before swiftly glancing away the second you turn back around.

“Here,” you call, smiling up at Geto as you extend his folded sweater to his awaiting hands. “I made sure it didn’t have any stains on it or anything after I washed, so it should be good. Thank you again for letting me borrow it.”

Geto’s face eases as he meets your eyes and he smiles softly; “it’s no problem. Thank you for washing it.” Then, as if almost an afterthought, he adds; “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer at your place to wait for it.”

You miss the way Gojo straightens at that.

“Oh, no!” You brush off, shaking your head. “I’m sorry you had to even give it to me in the first place.”

“Um,” Gojo cuts in, pulling your eyes on him with a blink as he shifts his gaze from Geto to you, offering you a somewhat tight-lipped smile. “Why did you have Geto’s hoodie in the first place?”

You’re a little confused as to why he cares, but—

“I accidentally spilled my soda on her and it made her shirt see-through and she was cold, so I offered it to her.”

Well, he didn’t need to go into that kind of detail—

“Oh?” Gojo asks, but something about his tone sounds strained and tense. “Is that so?”

Lips parting, you watch as the two of them glare at each other.

“U-um,” you speak up nervously, shifting forward; both of their eyes instantly fall on you, features softening. “Do you two… not like each other or something?”

The two glance at each other again.

Gojo’s the first to speak up; “not particularly.”

“We’ve never gotten along,” Geto elaborates. “That’s all.”

“I see…” You mumble, before your eyes brighten with a sudden idea; “well, hey! There's always a first, right?”

And the answer is clear to them both;

No way in hell.

Still, for you, they hesitate.

“Maybe,” Geto shrugs, brushing a bit of sweat off his forehead.

Gojo sighs dramatically; “if I’d have to.”

You’re oblivious to it all — eyes twinkling with excitement, you smile brightly. Truly, a brilliant idea has come to mind.

“Isn’t that amusement park opening up soon? I think… this weekend?” You ask, “you two should go together!”

Geto and Gojo frown at one another.

If there’s one thing the two of them can agree upon, it’s that that seems like the worst idea.

The two of them? Alone? At an amusement park?

What could honestly possess you to think that’s a good idea?

Geto, however, looks at you a moment later and smirks, clearly proud of himself; “I dunno about him, but I’d go with you.” And he sends a smug grin Gojo’s way, clearly thinking he’d effectively worked his way around not only having to disappoint you by saying no to your original idea but, getting you to go with him instead.

Gojo gasps, as if thoroughly offended.

“Really?” Your eyes brighten.

Geto smiles, nodding.

“Then let’s go!” You exclaim excitedly and Geto is just about to turn to Gojo with a victory smirk, before you add; “the three of us! When are you guys free next?”

Wait–what? 

-

Geto is not really sure how he got himself into this situation.

Like really – how?

“She’s late.”

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Geto resists the urge to let his annoyance get the best of him. But really–truly–he was at his final straw.

“You’ve said that three times,” Geto grumbles, offering a quick glance beside him at the white-haired bastard that just couldn’t help but take you up on your offer. Then, imagine Geto’s surprise when he shows up at your agreed upon time just to see that you hadn’t shown up yet but Gojo had—and Geto’s pretty sure that the guy was normally late to everything. Late to class, late to tests, meetups, hangouts, etc. so of course it was just his luck that today is the day Gojo decides he’s going to show up on time.

And you aren’t.

Letting out a whine, Gojo pushes off the wall he’d been leaning against, moving until he’s directly beside Geto and the two of them are now staring out at the entrance way, waiting for you.

“It’s true, though,” Gojo mumbles, and Geto can distinctly see him pouting out of the corner of his eye. “She’s ten minutes late.”

Geto just huffs.

“What exactly is your problem?” Gojo asks instantly, and Geto can feel him shift to face him. “You’ve been glaring at me this entire time.”

Feeling that final straw snap, Geto spins to face Gojo in return, narrowed eyes focusing in on his own as Geto shakes his head. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

Gojo just laughs; “I was invited, wasn’t I?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Geto scoffs; “not by me.”

“Still butt hurt that Y/N invited me along?” Gojo taunts, looking entirely too smug as he steps closer to Geto. Gojo might be shorter, but only by an inch, and it isn’t hard for him to size Geto up just as easily as Geto is trying to size him up. “You think I’m all that happy about you being here either?”

“Then leave?” Geto questions, as if that was the obvious answer–which, obviously, it was. “I’m the one who asked Y/L/N first so really, you aren’t needed here whatsoever.”

Gojo just leans back; “if I left I’d be doing exactly what you want. Last I checked, Y/N does want me here.”

Feeling his head hurt and his body tense, Geto shoves at his shoulder; “what’s with the lack of formality? You refer to Y/L/N so casually, I didn’t realize you guys were that close.” Pausing in thought (for dramatic effect), Geto glowers at Gojo. “Last I checked, Y/L/N didn’t even know who you were before a couple days ago.”

“What?” Gojo raises a brow challengingly, “jealous we’re close enough that she calls me ‘Satoru’?” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, Gojo leans back. “She says it so prettily, too, don’t you think? I mean, I absolutely love the way she says my name.

He truly was unbelievable. Geto didn’t realize there could be someone who pissed him off so damn much… He’s never really liked the guy, and despite the fact that for most of his life Geto has unfortunately gone to the same school as Gojo, his level of hatred was reaching a height it never had before.

Before, Gojo was just some annoying guy Geto didn’t bother to pay attention to. Not if he didn’t have to.

He can still remember the way he’d felt seeing the two of you laughing and talking that day on the bleachers – Geto was positive that he’s never seen the two of you talk before and certainly not enough to warrant such a friendly interaction. If Geto hadn’t calmed himself down before, he was sure he’d have made a fool out of himself when he interrupted the two of you but taking the calm approach seemed to have it’s rewards and Geto will never forget the look of stunned disbelief on Gojo’s face when you handed him his hoodie.

He’d definitely have to give you his clothes more – this time, have you wear them where everyone could see.

And then he’d thought he’d perfectly worked his way around your silly suggestion of hanging with Gojo – and then you just had to go and invite Gojo with the two of you? 

Geto didn’t realize you could be so oblivious.

Honestly—he’d told himself he’d try to play nice with Gojo, for you. Even if Gojo was there, it didn’t change Geto’s plan of trying to woo you and catch your attention. If Gojo wanted to hang back as a third wheel then that was his choice, Geto wasn’t going to let that stop him from making a move on you.

But really, he was at his limit. 

He couldn’t even think of ‘playing nice’ with Gojo when he was this egotistical.

Inhaling sharply, Geto moves to take a step towards Gojo, Gojo straightening out in response, before your familiar voice calls out;

“Ooh! I’m so sorry!”

Both Geto and Gojo freeze at the sound of your voice, eyes shifting to fall on you as you come to a slow step before them. You’re panting, pressing a hand to your chest as you try to catch your breath, making it clear you’d run here, but what really catches Geto’s attention is what you’re wearing.

A flowery, pink sundress. It had cute puffy sleeves and the material bunched around your chest with a bow, with the length of the skirt stopping just above your knees. It swayed gently in the wind, brushing upwards to show the faintest hint of your upper thighs. The whole outfit was put together with some accessories, cute sandals and a hairstyle Geto had never seen you wear at school before.

Geto, despite himself, feels his cheeks grow pink, a flush hitting him as he quickly glances away from you to situate himself. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought you were pretty before (that was abundantly clear given his actions) but it was a little different seeing you in something other than your school uniform. And, technically, the arcade hadn’t counted—given that he’d dumped soda all over your blouse before he could properly take in what you were wearing.

A quick glance at Gojo tells him his reaction isn’t that much different.

“My mom needed my help with something and I completely lost track of time!” You explain, turning to them with a worried expression as you finally manage to catch your breath properly. “Were you guys waiting for long?”

“Not at all–!”

“No–!” 

Lips left parted, Geto glares at Gojo out of the corner of his eye—Gojo returns it with ease.

“O-Oh,” you mumble, briefly glancing at the both of them in confusion before taking a step towards them. “Well, then… should we get going?”

Without hesitation, Geto steps forward before Gojo has the chance to and flashes a soft smile in your direction; “let’s go.”

[yourstrqly]

warnings: fem!reader, mention of sex / f1 masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ 𝅄 ⠀⠀·⠀ 𓈒ㅤ the only one i tolerate ﹗

getting woken up quite early on a non-work day makes you want to rip who ever wakes you to shreads, but not when it's your sweet alex, who's excited for the breakfast he has made you

────── or in which I showcase the sunshine x grumpy!reader thrope again

In the middle of the bed, you peacefully sleep on your left side, white bed sheets spread all over your body, as soft snores fill the otherwise quiet room you shared with Alex. The sun has already risen about over an hour or so ago, waking him up; he had come to the great idea of making you breakfast that considered out of a spongy biscuit cake, which he had bought along his short run to the nearest park, and topped the plain bottom with whipped cream and strawberries, and self baked chocolate muffins with a drizzle of salty caramel.

Currently he places everything on a big wooden plate while he waits for the coffee to finish, your favourite mug in his hand to spill the caffeinated drink into it as soon as the bumbles shimmer and the machine dings.

Truthfully the thai is very excited for the small surprise of a breakfast in bed for you as he thinks, he hasn't had the time to fulfil the role of a caring boyfriend in the past few days — williams has him on the sim a lot, there's a shit ton of media work and on top of it all you work too, coming home when he's still out, resulting in you doing everything like mopping the floors, doing the dishes and other daily tasks. This shouldn't be it, he's home in England and Alex wants to show you his capabilities of being a doting boyfriend.

Grabbing the kettle, he fills the mug, puts it on the plate and takes the whole thing to the bedroom, where he places it down gently on your dresser before leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead.

You stir slightly, groaning softly against the pillow but the affection isn't enough to actually wake you up. So Alex lays on top of you, not quite laying as per se, he pushes himself up on his elbows, hovering over you to get better access to you; delicately he bumps his nose against yours before trailing his lips from the corner of your mouth to the soft spot behind your ear.

"What are you doing?", you grumble, voice low and thick because of the sleepy state you're in. It brings a genuine smile on your boyfriend lips, you feel it on your skin.

The hot breath of his fawns to your right ear. "Rise and shine, bunny", he coes happily.

Slowly you bring yourself to open your eyes as he buries his face into your smooth neck and his scent fills your nostrils; he smells of cinnamon and cayenne, rounded by an earthy hint of mos and bergamot, a scent that reminds you of home.

Alex is your home.

And then he unexpectedly bits down, not hard enough to make you tear but it sends a tingle though your body and amuses you. Normally you're the one bitting his neck.

"If you don't wake up right now, I'll lick you", he states, and your mind immediately wanders to last night where he did the licking, just far more south down your body. Surly, your boyfriend notices the flutter of your lashes and the heat that spreads all over your face. "Not like that, but we can definitely make that happen, bunny. After breakfast."

"Stop being such a menace, Al", is all you whine.

"But I'm having fun", there's a pout upon his face.

This pulls a tiny smile on your lips, and without missing a beat Alex bits on your pulse point, gaining a moan, one that he can't point if it's because of you lusty mood or the brooding of upset. In the end he does care how you took it, and he's greeted with your eyes closed and mouth open as heavy breaths glide though your throat — clearly, you are turned on from his teasing and he won't mind interluding you to have sex. But as he has said minutes ago, you have breakfast to eat first. The coffee is probably lukewarm now at best.

Alas, this gives him the kick to move, pulling your legs with him to make you sit upright. "Outrageous, can't let me sleep peacefully", you moan again, this time reasoning with slight irritation. Nevertheless you crash your lips on Alex', probing the tip of your tongue against his lips to ask for the allowance of a french kiss. He does, hands raising from his lap to run around your throat, and you cherish the pressure he puts on.

Sadly, the kiss doesn't last long as Alex breaks apart from you, and grabs around you, reaching for the plate, you only see now after opening your lids and actually inspect the room. "Oh Alex, you're definitely getting a blowie. This looks so good. Did you make them?", you question in genuine happiness, muffin in one hand while the other picks up your mug. The combined smells of bitterness and sweetness urges you to dig in, no patience for the response.

Alex, who heard your promise, chokes on spit but quickly recovers. "The muffins, yes, bunny, I did. Only the best for my girl", the thai shares, before adding with a cheeky smirk, "Don't get soft on me, can't handle you being not grumpy."

"Shut up, Alexander."

"That's more like it."

[daydreams-after-dark]

Private Show | minsung x fem!reader | version.1

you're a dancer at an exclusive establishment where you perform for kpop idols in masks. Minho and Jisung are after a specific kind of private show from you.

v.2 is unhinged

cw: unrprotected p in v sex, blow job, creampie, cum swallowing.

The exclusive establishment was one of your favourites to perform at. Boudoir meets cabaret meets masquerade party.

The show only allowed up to ten guests per night, and each of them had to wear masks to obscure their identity.

A lot of attendees were kpop idols. It was a place where they could enjoy this kind of performance without the risk of being recognised.

After the main performances came the individual private and semi-private shows. These took place in various sets such as a bedroom, dressing room, a mini stage and a bar lounge.

In addition to the mask rule, the other rules were no touching (the performers or themselves), and no full nudity.

Of course there wasn’t much left up the imagination though because they mostly performed in lingerie.

Tonight you were taking the bedroom / boudoir themed set, and your audience was two young idols.

You summoned the pair into your boudoir where there was a lavish four poster bed, and a gorgeous plush rug on the floor. French style painting were hung on the walls, and 2 velvet tub style armchairs were positioned a short distance from the foot of the bed.

You gave your best, most enthusiastic, most sexy performance for the two men before you, whilst they sat perfectly still. Every now and then the taller one would bring his hand to his mouth like he was deep in thought. The shorter, would fidget in his seat whenever you did anything “extra” sexy.

After you'd finished your performance, you look at the two men with a seductive pose. It is the perfect finishing touch.

One of the men wordlessly stood up and walked over to the ensure the door is locked. This is absolutely against the rules, but you knew who the two men were.

You recognised the men’s bodies. You could see their hair. Their mannerisms were obvious. Fuck they were even wearing clothes you'd seen before! And their mouths! You couldn’t mistake Jisung’s sneer, or Minho’s mouth and the way it would hang open in awe.

Maybe they weren’t trying to hide their identities? Maybe they were only wearing the mask because it was the rules of the venue?

The tension was thick. You felt both vulnerable and powerful. The silence was communicating one glaringly obvious thing - they wanted more than just a private show.

Minho moved from the door to the music player, setting it to some sultry French music, and Jisung sat with his arms hanging over the chair arms and you could see his eyes boring into you from behind the mask.

Minho came to sit on the bed beside you, and Jisung dragged the tub armchair closer to the bed making you have to bend your knees and lift your feet up out of the way. He sat back on the chair taking you gently by the ankles and placing them on the seat on either side of his legs. Your breath hitched at having your legs parted like this.

Minho took your chin gently in your hand, an turned your head so you're were facing him. You looked down to his lips. They were parted as though he was in awe with you. His hand landed on your stocking clad thigh and he growled as gripped it harder, suddenly looking hungry as he leaned forward and took you in a kiss.

For second your mind was going crazy with so many thoughts at once. “What is happening?”, “this can’t be happening”, “This shouldn’t be happening”, “ Oh fuck… it’s happening”, “It feels good”, “I want more”.

Minho slowly lowered you down onto the bed without breaking the kiss. At the same time you felt Jisung’s hands slide up your thighs.

You were normally a confident and strong woman, but right then these men made you melt. This feeling was new. It was confusing. It was concerning that they could make you swoon like this. Especially when only minutes before you were the one in control.

“Tell me kitten,” said Minho from behind his his mask. “Do you give other idols performances like this?” His thumb brushed your lip. Jisung’s hands explored her inner thighs, making your pussy gush.

Minho kissed your neck, his breath hot. “Do you dance like that for Chan? Or Hyunjin?”

You let out a whimper. “I dance like that for everyone.” you panted.

Minho’s hands were all over you. Jisung’s fingers had reached your lace underwear. His finger stroked your clit through the lace. you're so wet. He’d have to feel it.

“You dance like that for everyone… but we want you to do more than dance for us.” He peppered kisses across your collarbone.

“We’re tired of having to keep our distance. We’re tired of pretending you don’t turn us on.” Added Jisung.

“But, this… this is inappropriate - ” you protested.

Minho pulled away and took off his mask. “Do you want us to stop?” He looked at you seriously. Jisung’s movements halted.

“Because if you don’t want us to stop, there’s so much Jisung and I want to do to you”. He doesn’t break eye contact. “We’re tired of not being able to be close to you, or look at you, or touch you.”

The look in Minho’s eyes conveyed so much want and need. You glanced down to Jisung who had also discarded his mask, and met his questioning eyes.

You looked back and forth between the two desperate men and bit your lip.

“Please… keep going.” You didn't recognise your own voice.

It all happened so fast.

Minho was back on your mouth with his. Your underwear was pushed to the side and Jisung’s wet, eager tongue dove deep into your pussy. The men’s hands caressed your entire body. It felt like heaven.

“Please… what do want to do with me? How do you want me?” You whimpered breathlessly. The desire to be helpless and taken overpowered any rational thought.

Minho broke the kiss and looked into your eyes. “Can I watch Jisung fuck you?” His voice was deep and husky.

Your cunt clenched at the thought.

You looked down to Jisung and nodded. His eyes were fixed on yours as he stood and removed his belt. He swiftly freed his hard cock, and looked down at your pussy. With one hand he pulled your lace underwear aside, and with the other he dragged his cock through your folds, before sinking himself into you.

“Fuck, baby…” he choked as he began to move.

“Ji, how does she feel?” Minho asked his eyes focused on watching Jisung’s cock appearing and disappearing into you. He licked his lips when Jisung withdrew and he could see your wetness glistening on his cock.

“So fucking wet…and tight… you’ve wanted this as much as us haven’t you, baby?” He panted.

You looked to Minho and palmed his erection through his pants. Minho hissed, then smirked “You want my cock too, huh?” He cooed.

You nodded, licking your lips. Why did you have to seem so needy? “Want your cock.”

Minho released his aching dick and straddled your chest, offering the head of his penis towards your mouth.

You eagerly wrapped your hand around it and took him in your mouth. His cock was perfect. “Jesu-fuck… oh god you take me so well, kitten.”

You picked up the pace, putting all your enthusiasm into pleasuring him. You cried around his cock suddenly, when Jisung changed the angle of his thrusts.

Minho decided he needed to come at you from the side so he could watch Jisung again. He got even harder when he saw Jisung pick up the pace, thrusting into you hard.

"Such a pretty little slut. Just for us." he taunted you. "Falling apart so easily on our cocks, hmm."

Minho reached down to rub your clit, sending you over the edge and making you come so fucking hard that you saw stars.

"So needy." Minho smirked. "So fucking perfect."

The sight of you falling apart was too beautiful for the two men, and they came within seconds of each other. Jisung deep in your pussy and Minho in your mouth.

Jisung pulled out and climbed on top of you, kissing you deeply, taking some of Minho’s cum for himself. He peeled away from your mouth. “You’re ours now.” He whispered deviously, then gave you a big gummy grin.

“Only ours.” Minho agreed.

a/n: this was an old story I wrote that I've updated a little bit. I also have another version where reader doesn't know who is behind the mask and it's much raunchier than this story. I think they double pen her... I need to find it an update it. Should I share it on the blog?

version 2, unhinged

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Sinning With Lust (Good Omens One-Shot)

Aziraphale x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: Aziraphale catches you reading a spicy novel.

CW: Aziraphale has bde here

Good Omens Tag List: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“What have we here, then?” 

Those five words startled you so badly that it sent your Kindle flying out of your hands and onto the floor. 

“Jesus Christ!” You shouted, hand flying to your chest in fright. Your heart beat hard and fast for a few moments before you returned to yourself, hammering dying down. 

You’d been reading a rather spicy scene in your novel, and you hadn’t expected to be interrupted quite like that. Particularly so startlingly. 

“Oh, come now, that’s not very nice- blaspheming in an Angel’s abode.” Aziraphale tutted at you teasingly, those eyes glinting with mischief. He was good at that. “My house is God’s house, you know.” 

“Listen,” you breathed, heartbeat finally returning to normal. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you sneaking up on me.” 

“Sneaking?! Well, I resent the accusation, my dear. I assure you I was approaching at my usual pace, gait and noisiness.” 

You grunted and made to stand to grab your Kindle, though Aziraphale shushed you and encouraged you back into your spot, insisting that he should get it for you as he was the reason it had been dropped so unceremoniously. 

“What were we reading today, dear?” Aziraphale asks, leaning to pick up the tablet and pass it to you. 

You’d always thought those scenes in movies where the protagonist had something to hide and the main antagonist, side character or whoever went for it in slow motion was stupid. Turns out it’s pretty accurate. 

Your heart beat faster in your chest and you reached for the Kindle to snatch it out of his hands before he could read the page sitting there incriminatingly. You watched as his eyes skimmed a couple of lines and widened comically before settling again after the initial shock. You noted the telltale subtle darkening of his irises and blushed profusely. 

“Oh, I see,” he said, voice taking on a slightly lower pitch. You shied away, looking out the window and covering half your face with your palm. This was truly mortifying. 

“Been a bit naughty, have we?” Aziraphale asked, putting the Kindle on the side table and standing before you. He brought one hand down to move your own and softly cupped your chin, leading it so that you were now looking up at his heated gaze. You swallowed thickly. “Lust is a sin, you know, my dear.” 

You nodded, unable to form words. Your mouth was suddenly dry and you would have given anything for a big glass of water. 

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale’s head cocked to the side. “You’re looking positively scared, little rabbit.” 

You breathed out a panicked laugh. Oh, this was- Aziraphale was ticking so many boxes for you right now. 

“Reading such filth in my home, dear- In God’s home. Do you think you need to be punished?” Aziraphale’s bottom lip poked out in a mild pout, mocking you. Your eyes flitted between his, and you shook your head no. 

“No? Hmm, I’m not sure I agree.” 

You lean your cheek into the palm of his hand and Aziraphale practically swoons. You know you’re putting on the charm. It usually has about a fifty per cent success rate, and you’re wondering which way Zira will go with it when he’s suddenly leaning down and pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. 

“Sweet thing,” he said softly, giving you one of the most loving smiles you’ve ever seen. “My office, ten minutes, hmm? Don’t be late.” 

Then he wandered off into the kitchen, leaving you breathless and blinking at the space that your Angel had just been occupying. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied to the wall.

[jasontoddspussy]

It was supposed to be like any other night.

(Ignoring the fact that it was 5;30 AM, that Dick was crashing at this safe-house even though the two had been fighting in the past couple of days, and that Jason was honest to gods just tired down to his bones and he’d like to just fucking sleep ).

He shed his layers, only really being careful with his gear (his shit was good and could withstand a lot. That didn’t mean he needed to be a jackass with it.) and placing his assortment of weapons in either cases built into the walls or on a countertop. His armor, clothes and underclothes, though? Those he kicked to the curb, uncaring about wherever they ended up.

Normally he’d take a shower, wash off the stink and grime of Gotham on his skin, but he’s 99% sure if he tried to take a shower he’d slip and crack his head open like an idiot, or he’d fall asleep in his tub and drown like an idiot.

So he decided that tonight he’d deal with some wet-wipes ala hospital, though not bothering to pop-em in the microwave, and shucking off his underwear to put on some fresh ones.

Feeling just slightly cleaner, which he deemed good enough, Jason headed into his bedroom and face-planted down onto the bed, wiggling like a worm to get under the covers. He heard grumbles coming from the left side of the bed, but Jason decided he was too tired to give a shit right now.

He’ll kick Dick off of the bed if he hogs the duvet, though.

As soon as his face hits the pillow, he’s out like a light.

–

At some point during his sleep, Jason had ended up back-to-back with Dick. It’s uncommon for them to share a bed, it’s not something they’ve done since Dick was a teenager and Jason a child. Granted, they’ve passed out in a backseat together, on a couch, ect, but he’s pretty keen on not counting that as sharing a bed.

He doesn’t really mind it, per se- It’s just that Jason’s so unused to people touching him, especially kindly or softly, intimately , that it makes him feel overwhelmed.

Jason blinks, wondering what it was that caused him to wake up. Dick’s still asleep, snoring quietly in the bed next to him as the man clutches one of Jason’s bed’s pillows. He scans his room for intruders, finds nothing.

Pang .

He frowns, gaze falling down into his lap. It’s been a while since he’s felt cramps, but it does happen occasionally. Thankfully without any bleeding.

Pang .

Although it doesn’t feel quite the same way as menstrual cramps, he doesn’t really know what else it could be. Jason glances at Dick, then quietly tries to leave the bed. This bed is currently stashed up against a wall, so Jason has to sorta wiggle to the bottom till his feet hit the floor. Good thing he’s got long legs.

Dick doesn’t stir as Jason leaves the bed, silently walking towards his bathroom. It might not help, but it’s worth a try.

He doesn’t bother turning on the lights considering the Pit gave him pretty good night vision. Jason sits on the toilet, just sorta staring into space as he waits for the pain to subside.

…

It doesn’t.

Actually, it feels like it’s getting worse. Bit by bit the pangs of pain increases in frequency, turning into more of a throb as seconds turns to minutes.

Rounding at 20 minutes of nothing, Jason decides he doesn’t need the bathroom, and so he can return to bed. Gritting his teeth he stands on wobbly legs, gripping onto the sink before he can fall onto the tiled floor.

Okay, the pain is less of a throb , now, and more of a stab stab stab . Jason carefully lowers himself to the floor, taking some deep breaths hoping that’ll help him deal with the continuous waves of pain swimming through him.

This is fine, I don’t needa walk. I’ll just crawl . He thinks, turning onto his knees and letting his forearms and thighs carry most of his weight - Not his stomach.

Jason is glad he has thick skin, or else he thinks he’d get a lot of shear as he drags himself mostly by his elbows back towards the bed. As he nears it, he stops to take a break while also contemplating how the hell he’s going to get back into the bed.

He can’t do his normal hop-in from the bottom.

Guess he’s gonna have to drag himself up onto the mattress, he can probably lift most of his torso with just his arms.

Jason manages to scoot towards the edge of the mattress, get an elbow up there and heave once before one of his knees give out and he face-palms into one of Dick’s feet. Gross.

His brother mumbles something grumpily, sitting up with his hair all over the place, staring down at Jason with a confused and mildly annoyed frown.

“What’r you doin’?” Dick asks, blinking, his gaze taking in Jason’s slumped body half on the floor and on the edge of the bed, then “on the floor?” He finishes.

“‘S nothin’. I gottit handled.” Jason mutters in reply. Dick’s eyes track over his sweaty skin, probably just as bad if not worse bed-hair, and slightly shaking frame.

“And what is “it”? And great, now the asshole’s concerned and unimpressed.

“Jus’ some intense pain. ‘s prolly just cramps.”

Dick blinks. Jason can see the way his mind catalogues what Jason’s saying, his appearance and how he probably ended up on the floor from the open bathroom door to where he’s slumped, still.

“...You’re on the floor”

“Couldn’t walk.”

“Why?”

“...”

“Jason. Why couldn’t you walk?” Dick’s awake, now, leaning towards him with that stupid frown of his.

“...It’s fine. I can crawl. It’s just a bitta pain”

……..

“Jason oh my fucking-” Dick starts, hands flying everywhere as he starts to get out of bed. Jason doesn’t bother moving.

Because he’s a jerk. Not because he can’t.

“Y’know, normal people? Sensible people? Reasonable people? When they go to the bathroom to sit on the toilet and wait for pain to pass, and when it doesn’t pass only getting worse, they tend to, you know, remember there’s other people in the house.”

Jason doesn’t reply, just watches as Dick nearly trips over his own feet janking on a pair of Jason’s sweatpants that are too long (not his fault he’s a head taller, tell that to the golden green kool-aid) and a t-shirt that might belong to Tim (he’s guessing, because it seems to fit okay, if only just slightly too small) while the man keeps scolding Jason like he’s 12 and Dick’s 18 again.

“For instance a normal fucking person would probably sit there and think “o h. oh no I can’t stand up. Oh no- Brother! Friend! Help me !” then wait for someone to come and help, but I’m willing to bet my entire heritance that you, you big dumb idiot-”

“Rude.”

“ Probably thought something like “O h. I can’t stand up. Eh, it’s fine. I’ll just crawl. ” Like an idiot!”

Dick continues, then throws a hoodie at him and a pair of wonder-woman sweatpants that Jason ever so slowly begins to pull on.

He’s not gonna try to defend himself, what would be the point when Dick (unfortunately) is spot on?

Dick would just see right through him and then he’d never shut up.

“Get dressed. We’re going to the ER. I swear to everything and everyone, Jason, if you fight me on this I will call Clark and I will have him carry you in your underwear to the hospital don’t think I won’t.”

Jason’s not an idiot. He knows there’s battles you can’t win. Sometimes, you’ll have overestimated yourself, or underestimate your opponent, and the smartest thing to do is retreat and recalculate how to go about defeating the enemy. A tactical retreat.

He keeps his mouth shut and continues working on putting clothes on.

Meanwhile, Dick ruffles through the duffle-bag where he keeps all of his fake IDs, insurance crap and what-not, and packs it into a smaller bag that Jason doesn’t know where came from.

As soon as Jason’s done putting on his clothes, Dick bends down and gets ready to heave him up so he can use Dick as support to waddle.

“Didn’t nobody ever tell ya that liftin’ heavy shit sideways is like putting two adult lions on your back, damaging it?” Jason mumbles into Dick’s cheek as his brother lifts him from the floor.

“I told you that.”

“Heed your own advice, then, Goldie.”

They make a sorry sight, surely, as they waddle slowly to the elevator that this apartment complex has (Jason’s guys are the ones doing maintenance and upkeep, so he knows shit’s up to code), riding it down to the ground floor and out the door to the parking lot, where on the opposite end of it stands the unit garage doors. Jason always picks safe-houses that have a garage so he can bring his car with him.

Dick unlocks the garage doors, puts Jason on the ground real quick so he can lift the port, then unlocks the impala, throwing open the side door so he can more or less just deposit Jason in his seat before taking the drivers place.

Normally his car’s rumble is like music to his ears, but the pain’s really making it hard for him to think anything but “wow, this shit hurts”, and he doesn’t even care that the radio is on. Normally he’d be listening to an audio book or his own music. Dick likes to fiddle with the music to put on eurobeat, of all things, whenever he’s in the car. That’s why he doesn’t let the man drive, since the driver gets to pick the music. The shotgun can shut his cakehole.

But right now Dick doesn’t even look at the radio. He pulls the impala right outta the garage, wasting no time rearing up the speed as he heads to Gotham Hospital.

Jason slumps against the window.

It takes them minutes to reach their destination, but to Jason it feels more like hours. He lets Dick pull him out of his car, grabs the bag with Jason’s ID shit, then waddles to the sliding doors of the ER.

There’s about 8 other people in various states of injury waiting in different chairs placed along the walls, with 3 people in line at the front desk. A nurse greets them when it’s their turn.

“Welcome to Gotham Emergency. What can I help you with today?” They ask. Dick puts on the ‘Grayson-Wayne’ charmy smile, which somehow works despite him looking like he just rolled out of bed.

Which. He did.

“Hi! My friend here’s having some stomach pain that’s been getting worse, to the point he felt he had to crawl along the floor because he couldn’t walk.” Dick explains, polite to the nurse, sure, but Jason can still feel the jab at his choices. If he had the strength he’d kick the man’s shin.

“Alright, please fill out these forms and then pass them back to me.” They hand Dick a clipboard with a pen attached. They waddle to the closest pair of chairs, where his brother drags Jason down with him and all but forces him to use the older man as a pillow.

He listens quietly as Dick reads out the questions and answers them, it’s basic stuff like Jason’s name, age, social security #, the reason they’re there today, descriptions of symptoms, any previously known ailments or injuries that could be relevant, other diagnoses that could be relevant or pharmaceuticals (it’s probably very common for people to come in with G.I. bleeding after taking ibuprofen) that might’ve affected them in a specific time-zone. Dick dutifully fills out each one, while his other hand is running through Jason’s hair almost soothingly. He’s pretty sure he’s seen him do this with Alfred the cat, and that’s where this habit comes from, but he’s too out of it to protest right now.

(It also feels kind of nice).

Dick leaves him in the chair as he hands the nurse receptionist back the clipboard. Jason overhears them telling him that his name will be called when there’s time. In the meantime, a nurse might come with some pain killers. So long as it’s not a needle, Jason’ll prolly be fine, he thinks. His brother re-joins him in the chair, and together they wait.

He doesn’t know how long they wait, but his name is called at some point, and a gruff elder woman with graying hair greets them as they waddle into an examination room.

She takes his BP, Temperature, RF, Oxygen levels and notes it down as they wait for the radiograph people to arrive.

“I’d like to get a scan of your abdomen. Your little friend can be in here if you’re okay with it” She gestures at Dick.

“That’s fine.” He responds. He’s pretty sure he needs someone he knows around him right now less he actually freaks out.

The radiograph arrives, and tells everyone but Jason to get out. Jason, they cover with some ‘’special’’ aprons (he doesn’t know what makes them special. sure as hell not the color, it looks like a flower threw up on them-) and he puts the portable x-ray on Jason’s abdomen. It takes maybe 5 seconds, then the machine is gone and the radiograph person’s let Dick and Dr-what’s her name back inside.

“Looks like there’s air gathered here. I’d say it could be appendicitis, but you’d be better off doing a CT for more accurate prognosis”

Jason flinches, and then Dick is there, holding his hand like he’s a child.

“..He’s claustrophobic.” The man explains, saving Jason the embarrassment. The Dr. clicks her tongue.

“We’ll try ‘n be quick. Let me see when it’s free” She says, moving towards one of the staff computers they keep in every room.

“We can get there in 10, be done in 10. Your friend can come with you, but not inside the room, but you can see him outside of it.” She consoles, and Jason just nods. He knows he can’t let his fears control him like this, but at the moment he feels incredibly small. Dick squeezes his hands.

She gets a wheel-chair from the reception, and has Dick roll him as they get to the CT-scanning-room. There’s walls with windows and a door separating the actual machine. By the wall sits a bunch of people in uniforms in front of a couple monitors. Dick keeps Jason’s gaze each step of the way as he’s stripped into a hospital gown, as he’s being injected with the (very cold) dye, and as he gets onto the board that’s going to slide him into the scanner.

It’s not a coffin. He’s not buried.

He’s not dead.

Jason doesn’t trust his eyes, so he closes them and tries thinking about other things that aren't the taste of wet mud. He thinks about flying with Superman. He thinks about hanging with Kori, Roy, Artemis and Bizarro despite him being the youngest. He thinks about neapolitan ice-cream banana splits with whipped cream, candied hazelnuts and chocolate ganache.

Before he knows it, he’s back outside and Jason’s re-taken his place in the wheelchair. Dick is rubbing his shoulders back and forth, anxiously, as they wait for the Doctor to tell them what’s up.

As if summoned, she walks back into the room, the other people who’d been sitting by the computer leaves, and she levels her calm gaze at them.

“So, turns out your appendix is about to burst. And we need to get that removed immediately, as in within now .” She tells them. Dick’s hands freeze on his shoulders.

“He’s headed to surgery?” The man asks, frowning.

“Yes. I’ve called down a nurse to help him get ready, then bring him to the OP room. You can be there until he’s sedated.”

“Alright.”

Dick wheels Jason into a different room, led by a nurse, who puts him into a different hospital gown (with socks? for some reason?), and puts him into the hospital bed that he’s going to be sedated in. The Doctor arrives, then, as Dick holds Jason’s hand while an anesthetic nurse inserts an IV to put him to sleep.

“Also, by the way, you have a tumor.” She starts. Jason blinks. “But don’t worry about that right now.” The Doctor finishes. He feels something cold go into his arm.

He looks at Dick, who looks flabbergasted, right back at him.

“Wha-?” Jason manages to utter before he passes out.

In his weird, anesthetic-fuelled dreams, Jason’s chased by a tumor.

“Don’t worry about that right now” The tumor tells him.

“Well how could I worry about something like that ” He tells the tumor.

He makes sure his middle fingers are proudly presented to really nail in the point.

It feels about as amused as Dick eating Alfred’s cucumber sandwiches.

[fandomandangstlover]

Allies chosen based off an old experiment conducted by Roblox, one of the few memories that he managed to retain, BLOXWATCH watches every inch of this world with dedicated attention. 'Armed' with his Banhammer and traps, this Killer focuses on taking his victims off guard and dazed. If you think you're safe from watchful eyes, think again.

The corrupted counterpart of BUILDERMAN. Selecting BLOXWATCH as your Killer will disable every other players' ability to choose BUILDERMAN as their survivor character.

Shown above are the two Skins currently available for BLOXWATCH: PUNISHMENT [DEFAULT] & OMNISCIENT.

PASSIVE ABILITIES

- CREATORS OF CREATION

Every survivor that is killed by this Killer, a glitched version of them will spawn from their corpse and roam around the map. Attacks any survivors in their line of sight, deals 10 damage and loses interest in 10 seconds. Can be killed like any. Would you want to, though?

- A SADISTIC THIRST

Gets faster with every damage that is dealt by this Killer within a certain timeframe, this can stack. Caps at 30(? idk man i don't want him to turn into the Flash.)

ACTIVE ABILITIES

- BANISHMENT

Basic attack movement. Swings the Banhammer down onto a Survivor. Deals 30 damage. Wide hitbox.

- ACCOUNT SNIPE

Bloxwatch constructs a Sentry that can be interrupted by a stun, same construction time as Builderman. Sentry deals 1 damage per second when in range and will glitch out after 5 minutes. Half the range of a normal Sentry hitbox. Can only be built twice per round.

- NOSTALGIA

Places down a landmine that explodes in your face, blinding whoever walks into it for 30 seconds and deals 5 damage. Plus alarting all killers to your location. Looks like a grey flat circle. 1 minute cooldown, but unlimited.

- SKYBOX

Eyes starts appearing near the Survivors that shows all Killers where they are. Will stay forever unless destroyed, alarting killers if a Survivor walks by or is near an Eye. Can be rid of by clicking/hurting it, temporarily causing Bloxwatch's cooldowns to last longer by 2 seconds.

VOICELINES

- ATTACKING

BANISHMENT:

growling.

"stay still!"

ACCOUNT SNIPE - BUILDING:

"watchtower coming up!"

"termination in progress."

ACCOUNT SNIPE - KILL:

"found something? Hehe."

"thought you could get away, huh?"

NOSTALGIA:

"feels familiar, doesn't it?"

"second warning~!"

SKYBOX - ACTIVATION:

"all of you... i see all of you, always."

"hiding won't save you."

SKYBOX - DEACTIVATED:

"my eyes... aches."

"...blurry..."

- STUNNED

"augh— my head... ow.."

sharp breathe in, shaky breathe out.

brief noise of pain. "it hurts."

stunned by 1x1x1x1:

"nonono— not again, please not again."

- KILL LINES

General:

"sorry, your account's terminated. goodbye."

"end of the map, die."

"another one falls. who's next?"

to 007n7:

"game's over, rulebreaker."

"your son's waiting for you. go find him, won't you?" (if c00lkid/bluduud died earlier in round)

"i'll find him for you, don't worry." (if c00lkid/bluduud is alive)

to c00lkid/bluduud:

"you lost, kid. what did i say about cheating?"

"your father misses you. go to him, won't you?" (if 007n7 died earlier in round)

"i'll find your pa, don't worry." (if 007n7 is alive)

to John Doe:

"you thought i wasn't watching? i'm disappointed, mr.doe."

"isn't this familiar? hehe..."

"what a failure."

to 1x1x1x1:

"this is payback."

"we won't be hurt by you ever again."

"i... i did it. haha— i did it!"

WITH TELAMON:

finding a survivor while ally is nearby:

"Shed, over here!"

"SHED! THEY'RE RUNNING!"

killing a survivor after ally's callout:

"shed, look at this. they look so miserable, eheh."

"got em!... thanks, shed."

WITH DAISY BELL:

finding a survivor while ally is nearby:

"found them, Bell!"

"DAISY! THIS WAY!"

killing a survivor after ally's callout:

"i got them. thank you, ava."

laughter. "burn, burn it all."

TRIO GIMMICK: DOUBLE UP

BLOXWATCH is only found with either TELAMON or DAISY BELL by his side. Whichever character is his teammate cannot be chosen as a Survivor, and both will interact with the counterpart of the missing companion if chosen in a round.

Spotted SHEDLETSKY - SOLO:

"don't run. please, don't run."

"why did you leave? why did you leave!? answer me!"

Killing SHEDLETSKY - SOLO:

"you were always so stubborn... ahah..." shaky sigh.

"we'll get out of here, i promise."

"... one day, we'll be free."

Spotted AVARICE - SOLO:

"why did you leave? why? what did i do?"

"please stay. please."

Killing AVARICE - SOLO:

"where did it all go, Ava? did it all mean nothing?"

sobbing.

"... sweet dreams."

DISTORTED DEVS - BLOXWATCH & TELAMON

Spotted AVARICE:

softly. "... Daisy?"

"TEL! SHE'S OVER HERE!"

Killing AVARICE after TELAMON'S callout:

*on the vague of sobbing* "i want to go home, Tel."

"... goodnight, Ava."

1 SURVIVOR LEFT:

"one reminding, and it'll all be over. let's finish this."

HACKED PURGATORY - BLOXWATCH & DAISY BELL

Spotted SHEDLETSKY:

"Shed? is that you?"

"DAISY— DAISY I FOUND HIM!"

Killing SHEDLETSKY after DAISY BELL'S callout:

"... i missed you. i'm sorry."

"... Daisy? i don't want to be here anymore."

1 SURVIVOR LEFT:

"last one standing. let's see how long they can fight, shall we?"

hiii y'all!!! here's Bloxwatch :33 finally managed to post him here cuz i had enough motivation to put everything in here, yippee!! goodness this took awhile....

Daisy Bell is an OC that belongs to @splatting-stampede & is my fellow collaborator in this AU ^^ ty for joining me in my silliness, eheheehhe >:3

[papayatori]

•.’Just a dream’.•

Kuroo Tetsuro x Fem!reader reader is best friends with Tetsuro and has a dream about them, slowly she realizes her feelings a/n: no warnings, just fluff!! I've been on a kick recently, so this is probably terribly written, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. This is going to be a series that I do during December for Christmas! Taglist is open.

"You didn't hear me wrong.. I said I love you.." He said to me, his eyes clear yet full of so much emotion, his hair falling in the right places to frame them perfectly. I could've melted right there, my heart thumping at a million beats per minute.

"I don't believe it.." I mumbled under my breath. I was absolutely astonished that Tetsu, my best friend, could ever feel that way about me at all.

I felt his hand gently rest on my cheek, thumbing it tenderly as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I leaned into his touch instinctively, causing a small smile to rest on his lips. His breath mingled with mine in a playful dance, his lips brushing against my own. I felt my entire world stop spinning then, the entirety of it slowing to a halt for this moment alone. As my lips gently pressed to his, I heard the sound of an alarm blaring in the background; though, I did my best to ignore it, to feel what I was feeling in the moment.

On cue, my vision blurred, and the scene was gone as quickly as it had arrived. With a groan, I turned over on my side to reveal the empty sheets next to me, my phone's alarm blaring from my bedside table.

"What the hell?" I grumbled, my heart still pounding from a kiss that never happened. My fingers brushed my lips gently as I stared off into nothing. "How-"

At about that time I got a phone call from my best friend. My heart thumped in my chest, but eagerly, I picked it up.

"Hello? Tetsu?" I said, my voice still hoarse from sleep.

"Damn, did you just wake up or something? It's the middle of the afternoon-" I heard his familiar voice chuckle on the other end of the line. My eyes shot open then, opening my phone to look at the time.

"Dammit!" I said, hurrying out of bed and into the bathroom to wash my face. "What time were you supposed to be over here?" I asked. He chuckled again in response.

"Glad you asked, I'm actually on my way now..." He said. "I didn't think you'd sleep until 1-"

"Oh shut up, I didn't mean to.." I grumbled, the water flowing from the sink in the background. "At least I woke up at all.." He laughed then, sending a chill through my body as he did so.

"Well, I can't argue with that. I'll be there in a minute, okay?" I heard him say before he hung up. I groaned again, staring at myself in the mirror.

When did I catch feelings for him?

After I finished getting dressed, I heard a knock at the door, one I was a little too quick to respond too as I nearly tripped over the rug in the hall. I opened it quickly, smiling at him like an idiot.

I was met with his usual grin, his hair framing his face just like it had in my dream only minutes prior. My stomach flopped at the sight.

"You excited to see me or something? Let me in, it's freezing out here.." I heard him say, flashing me that smirk he always wore. I rolled my eyes, letting him inside.

"just as charming as always, I see." I mumbled, closing the door behind him and flopping down on my couch. He laughed again, flopping down beside me after setting his bag down.

“Glad you’ve finally caught on.” He said, flipping through the tv to find something on. This had become a normal occurrence, him staying at my apartment in the afternoon to pass the time. I rolled my eyes at him, not bothering to reply.

He stretched out on my couch, an arm resting behind me on the backrest. I doubt he even realized what the small gesture did to me, doubt he realized how fast my heart was pounding in my chest or how my cheeks flushed ever so slightly at the thought of it. I leaned back, my head bumping his hand, catching his attention. He poked the back of my head playfully.

“Comfortable?” He teased. I shot him a glare.

“On my couch, yes.” I shot back, though I couldn’t hide the small smile playing on my lips.

There it was, his confident, cocky smirk he always wore so proudly, sending my stomach rolling.

I brought my knees to my chest, hugging them slightly to me in comfort to calm my own pulse. I hid my face in my knees, watching the tv in front of us mindlessly, and then I felt another poke to my head.

“You’re not annoying me, what’s wrong?” He asked, a small look of concern on his features.

Dammit, if I was having problems before, they were ten times worse now.

“Nothings wrong.. I just woke up, remember?” I said, doing my best to keep my facial expressions calm. He gave me a look.

“You’re shit at lying.” He said. I groaned mentally.

“I’m not lying, Tetsu-“

“Don’t give me that.” He said, cutting me off. “I know you better than you think I do, y/n…” he said, turning a little to face me. In the process, his hand brushed my shoulder, falling to his side and sending a wave through my body. I avoided eye contact at all costs.

“Look at me…” he said, softer this time. Hesitantly, I obliged. “What happened…?”

I let out a deep sigh, knowing I wasn’t going to get out of it this time. Anxiety coursed through my veins, knowing if I said anything about it, it might change everything with Tetsuro; and if I didn’t, it might do the same thing anyways.

“I didn’t sleep great.” I said, which was a lie, I slept amazing, but I couldn’t even tell him why.

“Why? Did you have a bad dream or something?” I smirked slightly, poking my cheek. I glared at him.

“Maybe I did.” I grumbled.

“Talk to me about it.” He said, his tone softer again. I looked over at him finally, seeing him leaning back against the couch and facing me almost fully, his attention completely on me with concern in his eyes. I sighed again, a small smile on my face. He gave me a confused glance now.

“What’s that look about… now I’m really concerned.” He said. “Usually you’d glare at me in this sort of situation…” I then sent him a glare purposefully.

“You make me sound so mean, Kuroo!” I said, chucking one of the throw pillows at him.

“Dammit, you are mean!” He chuckled, throwing it back playfully. “Tell me about your dream, y/n. I want to help.” He said, his smile softening a little bit. It sent my stomach into a whirlpool, and I caught his eyes easily with my own, though I shook my head, my smile fading slightly.

“I can’t…” I said softly, my forehead pressed into my knees again. I heard him shuffle a little and pretty soon felt his hand squeezing my shoulder. His touch alone burned into it, melted all of my worries away like ice.

“Why not?”

“Dammit because it was about you…” I groaned, not meeting his gaze still. I heard his breathing hitch for a moment before he squeezed my shoulder again, and that’s when it registered what I had said.

“Why is that so bad?” He said, I could practically hear the smile in his tone.

“It wasn’t…” I said. “I never said it was a bad dream, I just said I didn’t sleep…” I mumbled, already caught and accepting defeat. I felt my entire body shake slightly with anxiety, and he continued to squeezed my shoulder to calm me.

“Take your time..” he said softly. I once again felt my worries melting away.

“You kissed me, Tetsuro…” I mumbled, and his squeezing stopped. I felt every muscle in my body tense, my anxiety crashing back through me like a tidal wave. I had to forcefully stop myself from pulling away from him.

“I did what..?” He asked, shock etching his tone. I shook my head.

“You kissed me..” I said a little loudly, avoiding his gaze but picking my head up to stare at the tv again. I felt his hand reach for my chin, turning my attention to him.

“Was it that bad?” He asked, fear in his eyes. I snorted, laughing a little as he asked this.

“God no.. it’s all I’ve been able to think about.” I said, my smile turning into a softer one as I saw his expression change and his anxiety melt away again.

“Damn.. you had me scared there for a second…” he said with a smile. “I was worried you wouldn’t like it if I actually did..”

My ears rang at his words, my pulse quickening rapidly as I stared at him with utter disbelief. His thumb rubbed against my chin, almost mimicking what had happened in my dream before.

“What?” I asked, my lips parted perfectly, my breath ragged. He chuckled, shuffling a little closer to me. Though, I was frozen in place, unable to move.

“You didn’t hear me wrong…” he said, once again mimicking what he’d said in my dream. I saw his gaze flick down to my lips once before slowly dragging their way back up to my eyes, as if taking in every detail to commit to memory.

I was too stunned to speak, and before I knew it he was inches away from me, his hand resting on my cheek gently as he brushed it with his thumb.

“Would it really be so bad?” He asked softly, his gaze flicking down to my lips again. I stared into his glossy eyes, taking in the emotion they held so strongly as he stared right back into my own.

“No…” I said finally, looking down at his lips. “No I don’t think it would be..”

His breath mingled with my own, the tension building by the second. I could feel my pulse in my ears, pounding mercilessly like my alarm had blared before. I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead to his gently to urge him forward. He hummed gently, and before I knew it I felt his lips gently pressing against my own.

My heart nearly exploded from my chest as I melted into his lips, molding into them as if I was some sort of putty in his hands. I sighed against his lips, moving mine with his gracefully.

“How was that…?” He asked, his lips brushing mine again as he spoke. I grinned, my heart still pounding as I licked my lips gently, tasting him again.

“Like a dream…” I mumbled.

[marlsswrites]

Safety and sweat

Ice skating AU, part 5!!

August 5th - words: 665

First part Previous part

“Great practice Regulus.” Effie praised. “I would stay to chat but I have to shoot, I think my sons outside-“

Regulus began to nod his head, kicking his skates from his feet while he held onto the barrier of the rink. But then the noise of rubber shoes squeaking on the floor, travelling towards Regulus and Effie next to him.

“Hi.” He pants, leaning over his legs before looking up with a smile.

It had been exactly a week since Regulus bumped into James, the cute man from the bookstore, and coincidentally his coaches son. He was wearing the same football shirt, it was awfully tight around his biceps - he tried to avert his gaze, he really did - but it was so tempting.

“Hi James.” Effie sighed out while Regulus failed to hide a small laugh under his breath at the look on James’ face.

“Hi.” Regulus copied, a smile tucked away into the hidden corners of his lips.

Effie looked between the two a few times before only shrugging and huffing out a breath. “Wait here James, I’m just going to pick my bag up from the lockers, see you tomorrow Regulus.” Smiling, she pointed to the direction of the lockers, leaving her son and Regulus staring clearly at each other.

“Sorry, I ran here from football practice.” The brunette chuckled, then he did the one thing Regulus was sure would cause his death.

Honestly he wouldn’t be complaining if that was the last thing he saw before he died, at least he’d be at peace.

The man lifted his shirt up and swiftly wiped the sweat from his forehead, and - god - was he doing this on purpose? He swore he could see the muscles move on his toned stomach, the way a black inky tattoo emerged from his sinfully low risen shorts - it looked like a pair of antlers.

“Why exactly?” Regulus cocked his eyebrow, turning away to hide the flush from his cheeks, god he hates feeling like this. Flustered, small, sappy and stupid.

“I don’t- uh.” James laughed, it set off a whole new crashing, cold, salty yet warm wave of emotions off in Regulus’ stomach. “I don’t really know.” He snorted.

“Wow.” Regulus chuckled along, rolling his eyes. “Solid answer.”

“Shut up.” The brunette snorted. “You look really familiar?” He said after a minute of silence, eyeing Regulus up and down like he was a new work of art in a museum, he couldn’t quite place how he felt about that.

Regulus turned his head to see James still piercing his eyes through his own grey ones. He tilted his head to the side, vision of James partially blocked by the black curl that fell into his eye. “Yeah, you look like my friend.”

“Sirius Black, per chance?”

“Yeah… do you-“ He narrowed his eyes, before letting out a light gasp and parted his lips. “You’re his ‘little brother Reggie’” James gaped. “I thought you were like, 10.”

“What the fuck?” Regulus hit his arm and gave a mock offended gasp.

James let out the sweetest little giggle. “I’m calling you Reggie from now on.”

“Potter I swear to god-“

“Cute little Reggie.”

He only groaned, hiding his head in his own black curls as he dropped his forehead into his arms that leant onto the barrier. The one thing he could hear was James’ laughs and teases as Regulus cursed at him, but of course he didn’t mean it.

Normally he would, that was the thing. Last time Barty called him ‘Reggie’ he tripped him up, mostly because that name was reserved for Sirius and Sirius only. But for some reason he… liked when James did it? Fuck, this is disgusting.

It really isn’t though, it’s just new, and Regulus hates new. Even when it could bring the best things into his life, he only feels the need to push them away and stay where he’s been stood for the past year.

Safe.

But what is safe anymore really?

[happy74827]

An Extraordinary Existence

[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After the major confusion the group faced just a couple hours before, they all take a moment to reflect what exactly their intentions are. {GIF Creds: @heronamedhawks}

WC: 1978

Category: Fluff, Slightly Plot Driven

Are you guys proud of me? 'Cause I am lmao. I finally finished the second and final part of this fic. You can find the first half of it here

The ending might be a little confusing upon first glance, so I will say that it is heavily inspired by the theory surfacing around with Sam and Black Noir.

『••✎••』

It was a couple of hours later, and Sam was sitting on a chair, his legs pulled up to his chest and his head buried in his arms. They had talked; the six of you and Sam had learned a lot. He was currently trying to take everything in.

So much had happened in the past few days, and now that he was finally getting answers, it was all a bit overwhelming.

Sam was sitting in a dorm in front of a desk. Emma was behind him, rubbing his back, and he felt like a small child. But the action was calming, and he leaned into the touch.

You had been sitting in an identical chair he was, talking, but he wasn’t really paying attention. The lights were still dimmed, and the colors were swirling, dancing across the room, and it was hard to focus.

Andre had said that the room was designed by your friend Kota, a technopath, and Sam wondered if this was a normal room for supes or if it was just you and your friends.

He guessed it was a mixture of the two.

The other four were sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. Jordan and Marie were chatting, and Emma was listening, though she did throw a comment in here and there. It was peaceful, and the voices were soft and comforting. Is this what normalcy felt like?

Sam didn't know. He had never really experienced normal, per se, but this was as close as it was going to get, so he relished the moment. After you had shown him the "lights' as he called it, he was more comfortable around you. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or not, but he wasn't complaining.

Sam hadn’t really paid attention to the conversation, but he heard you speak up, and he was immediately interested.

"So... Sam. What did you see?"

You were fidgeting, and you were clearly nervous. You hadn’t said anything about the whole light thing and had instead moved on, saying that you would talk about it later.

Sam hesitated, his hands digging into his thighs, but the soothing movements of Emma's hand helped calm him, and he loosened his grip. He raised his head and turned towards you but didn’t answer.

Emma did.

"I think I speak for all of us when I say that we have no clue what the heck that was. I mean, one minute you were talking, and the next minute the room goes dark, and then the lights explode? What was that, even? Magic?"

She paused, taking a breath, and the silence was thick. She looked down, her hand never stopping, and then she spoke again, her voice lower, softer.

"Did you know Luke?"

Sam's head snapped towards her, and his eyes were wide.

You couldn't have known, could you?

Emma didn’t even look up, but she did respond. "I've never seen anyone look that broken before, and that includes my own family."

Her hands stopped, and her grip on his shoulder was tight, her nails digging into his flesh. It didn't hurt him as much as it should have, not when he could feel the emotion pouring off her. He didn't say anything; he just sat there and took it.

Marie broke the silence, her voice small and timid, and she was glancing around the room, her hands shaking.

"What does this have to do with anything?"

She looked so lost, and her eyes were wide.

This time, instead of Emma, you answered. "I saw him in flashes. He was trying to protect his brother."

Marie's eyes darted towards Sam, and her eyebrows were raised. She looked at him with an odd expression, her mouth slightly open and her eyes full of an emotion that he didn't understand.

Sam could feel his shoulders tense, and his heart was racing. His breath hitched, and he couldn’t breathe.

He didn't want to remember, didn't want to think about his brother. Luke, oh man, he was gone. Gone.

Sam felt a sharp pain in his hand, and he looked down, surprised. He had broken the skin, his nails digging into his palm. A single drop of blood slid down his arm, and he stared. Just stared.

"I also saw Shetty and a few other people. I only recognized her, though."

"What about Cate? She was there... wasn't she." Andre was the one who spoke, his voice low and his head hung, staring down at the ground. Sam noticed his hand twitch, and he knew that he was fighting the urge to grab his phone.

"Cate was there."

It wasn’t a question, and Andre didn't respond. His hand stopped shaking, and he didn’t even seem surprised. Instead, his expression was blank, void of any emotion.

He looked like a statue. Unfortunately, Sam could not understand the feeling.

Jordan, on the other hand, didn't seem to be as indifferent. Her eyes were narrowed, her posture stiff, and she looked ready to pounce. "Where were they, and when?"

Her words were short and clipped, and Sam could hear the anger behind the words.

"That's the thing. I don't know. The flashes were quick, and I could barely tell what was going on. I couldn't even tell you if it was a memory, a vision, or something else."

You stopped talking, your shoulders dropping. You had been looking up, meeting their gaze, but now you were staring at the floor, and your fingers were tracing a pattern in the carpet. The number eight, to be exact. Sam wasn't sure why you kept repeating it, but it was a nice pattern.

Emma sighed, and she released her grip on Sam. She stood up, crossing her arms and looking down at the four of them. Her face was blank, and Sam knew she was upset.

"So, now what? We came here for answers, and now we're more confused than before."

"We have suspicions on Shetty. We know about Cate, and now we have confirmation that they were working together. That's not nothing."

Andre didn't sound happy, but he did have a point.

"So, what? We just sit here, hoping to connect more dots until we have a pretty picture of our enemy?" Jordan switched before them, now standing, his eyes flashing. "I'm sorry, but fuck that."

"Then what do you propose we do, hm? Go back out there, running wild and blind, hoping that we don't run into Cate's mind games? And what about Sam? He can't just run free. If you haven't noticed, he has a bounty on his head. He has to lay low. We can't afford to be reckless. Not after last time."

Once again, Andre was right. Sam had no desire to go outside, where people were hunting him down and trying to kill him. No, thank you.

"We need more information. If we knew what exactly they were planning, then we could stop them." Emma was calm, and her voice was level. "And hopefully, we can get Sam out of the line of fire."

"Speaking of," Andre's eyes turned towards him, his eyes still held that emptiness. "Do you plan on speaking, or are you just going to sit there."

"...I'm, uh, good to keep sitting… here."

Your eyes lit up, and a small smile appeared on your face, and Sam was caught off guard. He could even hear a slight tinge of humor in your tone. He didn't think the words were funny, but it made him smile anyway.

"Oh my god... Why do I even try." Andre's head fell, and he dragged his hand across his face.

Emma was also smiling like you were, but it was more of an exasperated grin, and Jordan wasn't paying attention. Marie, on the other hand, was looking at him with a look that he didn't like. He didn't know her well, but from what he had seen, she was quiet and a bit shy. Right now, though, her eyes were filled with sadness, a sorrow that wasn't hers. She almost seemed like a different person.

Emma was the first to notice, after him, and her expression shifted, her smile dropping and her eyes widening.

"Marie, are you okay?"

Jordan glanced at Marie, and she turned her attention to her. Marie blinked, her face turning pink.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a bit lightheaded."

Jordan didn't look convinced, and his brow furrowed.

"Are you sure?"

Marie nodded, and her blush deepened.

"Yes, I'm fine. Really."

"Alright, but if you feel like shit, tell us, okay? It could be Cate, or it could be something else. You can never be too sure."

"It's not Cate," Andre spoke up, his hand falling from his face.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Trust me, I just know."

Jordan narrowed his eyes, and his hand clenched. His knuckles turned white, and he gritted his teeth. "Care to share with the class?"

"No, I don't."

Andre and Jordan glared at each other, and the tension in the room rose. It seemed constant with these two, and Sam was starting to get a little agitated. They hadn't even been there for two hours, and they were already arguing for the tenth time.

"I vote we just stay low until we get a game plan. Maybe hide out here, get Sam some new clothes."

Sam looked down at his current attire, and he didn't blame Emma for her comment. His shirt was dirty, ripped, and covered in a variety of stains that he didn't want to think about.

"Or, we can go out there and fight."

"And end up getting ourselves killed?" Andre didn't wait for a response. "No, thanks. We can't afford another mistake, Jordan."

Jordan scoffed, and his lips curled into a snarl. "So you're saying it's my fault."

"Oh my god, guys! Please!" Finally, Marie spoke up, and her voice was high and shrill. "Can you please stop? We're supposed to be a team, not some bickering children. I agree with Emma; we should hide out, gather our strength, and come up with a plan. If we rush in blind, then we'll only make it easier for them. Cate's smart; she's not going to leave any openings. She's not an idiot."

Andre sighed, his anger vanishing. "You're right. We'll lay low for now. Get Sam some new clothes and maybe some food. Anything else?"

"Pop-Tarts?" You inquired, and Andre rolled his eyes, a small grin on his face.

"Pop-Tarts sound good." Sam agreed. It got him remembering the time he snuck an entire Costco worth of Pop-Tarts into his room, and Luke caught him eating them all during a late-night study session. Luke's face was absolutely priceless. Unfortunately, their mother caught Sam and was not happy about the mess. Sam was grounded for a month, but it was worth it. So, so worth it.

"Seriously, guys? That's the priority?"

"I'm with them, honestly." Emma was grinning; her previous stress had vanished, and her posture was relaxed. "Everyone knows the cinnamon and brown sugar ones are the best."

You flashed her a thumbs-up, and Jordan looked done.

"Are we sure Sam is still the most wanted person? I might change my vote."

"Your favorite flavor is probably strawberry. Disgusting." You were smiling, and Sam had a feeling you were joking. At least, he hoped you were. Strawberry was his favorite flavor.

"Alright, enough with the petty squabbles. Come tomorrow morning, we'll go over our game plan. We're going to take those bastards down, and we're going to get our damn lives back. Sound good?"

A chorus of agreements, Sam included.

"Good. Now, who's going to get the Pop-Tarts?"

Unfortunately for them, given what happens just a few days later, their plan to get their lives back did not happen.

Instead, Sam got a new life and a new name.

The others did not.

-Taglist-

@astrelvs334

@daddysfavoritesexkitten

@sleepy-timaeus

Enjoy guys!