#i could at least tell you what the bones were!!

[lyricwritesprose]

Blue heelers, oh my goodness, blue heelers. My Mom had a blue heeler. He was one of the most loyal, helpful™ dogs I have ever known. He did Jobs.

Please note that helpful™ is not quite the same as actually helpful.

Please also note that the thing about Jobs is that when one cannot be found, one must be invented, and he did. Not. Stop.

See the thing about my Mom is that she was at that time a retired teacher of about sixty-five living in a suburban area (although unusually willing to go on hikes), and the thing about this dog, whom she acquired accidentally, is that he knew in his bones that he should be managing at least a hundred cows. This is a slight energy mismatch. Mom did care for him to the best of her ability and he did help her stay fit and exercised—that was one Job, he liked that one—but that wasn't enough Jobs, so he would take on other ones, such as improving the yard's feng shui. (It has been about five years since he died, I think, and my Mom's yard is still this weirdly cratered moonscape in which plants mostly grow through a combination of hardiness and Spite. Note that she did not actually intend to join the lawn-free movement. That blue heeler joined it for her. He would actually pull up plants that Displeased him.) He would also herd kids when available. And Canada geese. The fact that he actually had some measure of success with the geese tells you something about what a force of nature this dog could be when he so chose.

Also, one time the Nutcase Neighbor's dog got out—Nutcase Neighbor's Dog was a large bully breed dog which had mostly been isolated, not exercised, and possibly not trained, although the neighbor talked about training him "for security," basically the exact, precisely calibrated situation to make large behavioral issues in a large dog—and when he came towards my Mom in a hostile manner, her dog put himself in a perfect defensive position in front of her and (apparently, he didn't bark or make a sound) told the neighbor's dog to go home peacefully rather than FAFO.

Which the neighbor's dog did. Without a squeak of protest. Still have no idea what my Mom's dog said, body language wise, but it was roughly the same reaction as a big mook walking into a room, finding Batman there, and just quietly closing the door and fucking off while he had the chance. Apparently one of the Jobs was Protection, and neighbor dog may have looked the part, but Mom's dog was a professional.

Like I said, he died about five years ago. We got home and he was clearly having a hard time, so my Mom called the vet while I talked to him. I told him that he had done a very good Job looking after the house while we were out shopping but that we were home now and it was going to be all right, we would take care of things. He made eye contact, closed his eyes, and passed, instant and peaceful. He had been ready, he just wanted to wait until someone was there to relieve him of duty. I actually feel really honored that he trusted me with the Job of looking after my Mom.

I would not have a blue heeler, and at this point neither would my Mom. At this point neither of us can keep up the insane amount of exercise required. But man, he was an awesome dog.

In every generation there is a chosen one…

[manicandobsessive]

You’re my lady, I’m your fool | L.H.

Summary: Logan missed his girl.

Warnings: fluff fluff and more fluff, the man is lovesick, cursing, pet names, SUGGESTIVE, mdni please, reader is shorter than logan, based on a wham song, not really proofread im lazy, kind of rushed ending but its still cute

WC: 1.5k+

I had a vision after listening to this song and I wrote this in approximately 1 hour. I’m a wham girlie.

Home. You. Dinner.

That was the mantra Logan chose to repeat in order to remain sane on his drive home. Pedal to the medal, at least 30 over the speed limit at all times. The truck rumbled and groaned with the weight of years of memories and use under him, but he continued his trek home regardless.

Gonna have to change the fuckin’ oil soon, too. He thought. The mere inconvenience adding to his already ever-present irritation.

Every douchebag in Canada had decided today was the day to test his patience. From his dumbfuck coworkers at the lumber yard to the asshole currently riding his tail. He’d had enough. He wanted to be home with you. His girl. His sweetheart, angel, darling, the list goes on. The thought of you was the one string pulling him back to reality. The tether to his life he cherished with every bone in his aching body. He truly didn’t know where he would be if he didn’t have you.

Probably jail.

But you taught him the beauty of kindness. Yours being a beacon of hope for him when he accidentally spilled beer on you at a dingy bar. He’d been staring at you anyways, but humiliating himself wasn’t on the agenda for the night. Yet you didn’t scoff at him, didn’t look at him sideways, not even a curse under your breath. You didn’t bat a fucking eyelash and without skipping a beat, you asked if he was okay. The first example of many showing your unwavering selflessness. It was admirable, you were the better half of the pair of you- in his opinion. He often found himself frustrated with your lack of regard towards yourself, brushing it off like nothing. He’d tried time and time again to tell you to take care of yourself, not to worry about him. And you always, always told him the same fucking thing:

“Can’t control it, Lo. Just care about you.”

Hugging him tightly around the waist, resting your chin on his pecs and looking up at him with that sweet, sweet smile. Your bright eyes and soft face making him huff as he instinctively moved his own arms to hold you closer to him. He never could find himself angry with you.

He reminisced on those memories often. On top of plenty of other moments with you that brought a pleasant smile to his face.

He had no idea that accident at the bar almost 3 years ago would bring him to this point, but fuck if he isn’t overjoyed that it did.

Love was never on Logan’s radar. Written off as another extra thing he didn’t need to bother with. He was certain that life would never be for someone like him- that he’d never find someone to accept him for what he is. For who he is. And you did without a second thought. You’d blown life right back into him, showing him what real happiness is. He swears that when he met you the sun shone brighter each day. Something you would always roll your eyes at, calling him cheesy. But he wholeheartedly believed it- which is saying a lot coming from a man who no longer believes in much else.

The soft glow of your shared cabin came into view, practically calling to him by name. The visual had already calmed his racing heart, knowing you were waiting for him. Probably in one of his flannels and old socks. Your hair flowing freely and your entire demeanor relaxed. It was his favorite look on you, other than when you were begging for him, caged between his thick arms. An endeavor for later, to say the least.

He slammed the truck door shut, moving with a newfound purpose to the front door. He kicked off his boots, leaving them on the front porch. If you took care of the house, the least he could do was be mindful of it.

And laundry, he knew you fucking hated laundry.

The door swung open. Logan made a silent note in his head to oil the hinges of that thing, the creaking got on his nerves.

He’d heard faint music from outside, the notes only getting louder the closer he got to where he needed to be- near you. He knew you were cooking, he could smell the various seasonings and vegetables. But most of all the music. You always had something playing, but it was only ever this loud and upbeat when you were in the kitchen. He’d found you dancing and singing enough times to know what the deal was.

And tonight was no different.

He knew you loved this song, something your dad had you listen to as a kid. A song you grew up on and still loved to present day. He was never a big fan of 80s pop, but whatever you enjoyed he was right there with you. Bopping his head along or tapping his foot lightly, it always made you giggle.

He leant against the wall, watching as you moved with ease throughout the kitchen. How you weren’t an extraterrestrial being was beyond him. He swore you had a halo sometimes.

The grace of your smile, the lightness in your steps, even your voice as you sung along to the music entranced him. Like a siren call. He made his way into the room, smiling when you weren’t even phased in the slightest at him catching you mid concert.

He was however surprised when you pulled him in by his arms, swinging them back and forth as you laughed. He was so caught up in your smile he didn’t even register you telling him to dance with you. Slowly but surely he gave in, a deep, warm chuckle erupting from his chest as you jumped and sang with the energy of a kid on Christmas morning. Your soft hands and sweet scent making him all the more taken with you, if that was even possible.

He spun you, lifting you off the ground in his arms as you let out a squeal.

“Logan!”

He put you down, not bothering to even try removing his arms from your waist as he looked down at you with the most lovesick expression on Earth. Scratch that, every universe. There wasn’t a single one where he hadn’t been head over heels in love with you.

“Hi baby.” He smirked when your face flushed as it always did when he called you that. He loved seeing it, it gave him butterflies. Even after all this time.

You slowly inched your arms around his neck, entangling your fingers with the hair on the base of his neck. He hummed and buried his face into your own, making you giggle. He pressed feather-light kisses on your neck and jaw before pulling back to look down at you once again.

You sung along to the rest of the song, Logan even joining in for one part:

“You’re my lady, I’m your fool.”

He sang, making you smile as you pecked his lips and he drew you in for a much deeper kiss.

“How was work?” You asked as he rested his forehead against yours. He groaned, not bothering to ruin the moment with the laundry list of complaints he’d had about people.

“Hell.” He simply replied, “Missed ya too much.” He mumbled against your lips, kissing you yet again.

You hummed in contentment against his mouth, pulling him impossibly closer. He was so intoxicating you nearly fell to the floor every time he kissed you. Always making you forget your name with the way his lips and tongue moved against your own.

He slowly walked you backwards, not breaking the kiss as he led you to your bedroom. He’d needed to show you how much he missed you since he left this morning. He was a lovesick fuck, and was damn proud of it.

You obliged without hesitation, allowing him to take control and softly rest you on your back on the bed. He kissed your eyelids, cheeks, nose, forehead. Anywhere that was accessible to him, he worshipped it- worshipped you. Your breath hitched, arching into him. You’d nearly forgotten you were in the middle of cooking when he came home. The realization hitting you in the face as you squirmed.

“Lo, dinner.” You huffed, trying- and failing- to push him away so you could finish cooking. Of course, you couldn’t fight off a man with a metal skeleton, let alone want to. You needed him, desperately. But you also wanted to make sure the house didn’t go up in flames.

“Logan.” You groaned, he growled against your skin. Pinning you down effectively as he continued his trail of kisses down your body.

“Logan Howlett.” You said with all the authority you could muster up in the moment. He stopped, lifting his head from your stomach and looking at you with a raised brow and that stupidly handsome smirk.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I gotta finish dinner.” You tried to look as stern as you could, but the way his rough hands were gently stroking your thighs made it impossible. Not to mention the look on his face. You knew him well enough to recognize it. Whatever he was about to say would solidify the one thing you knew: you weren’t leaving this bed anytime soon.

“I’ll cook. Jus’ lemme have this, sweetheart. I missed ya.”

[sequinsmile-x]

The Book of Love

Aaron and Emily's love story, told from the perspective of those around them (and, of course, their own.)

Chapter 1/2

Chapter 1: It’s Full of Charts and Facts and Figures, and Instructions for Dancing

-x-

Hi besties,

It's a tale as old as time - I had an idea, I got carried away, and now this is on track to being nearly 10k words haha

Chapter 2 will have the perspectives of Penelope, Spencer, Elizabeth and, of course, our two idiots in love themselves!

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: None for part 1, will update tags for part 2

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

JJ

When Aaron and Emily told the team that they were together and had been for two months, JJ kicked herself for not seeing it sooner. 

It seemed obvious the second she knew, as if a veil had been lifted and she could suddenly see what had been in front of her for weeks. They were both happier than they had been in a long time, happier than she remembered either of them ever being. She’d idly wondered if they were in relationships when she thought of them separately, halfway to the truth as she assumed love was part of why her friends seemed to be as close to giddy as they could be, and she still felt stupid for never considering that they could be in a relationship with each other. 

Especially because Will insisted he’d thought they’d been together for weeks, his smile frustratingly handsome and smug as he laughed at her for not seeing it. 

In the week since Aaron and Emily had admitted they were together, their smiles as shy as she had ever seen them and their hands tangled on his knee, she’d seen enough to know they were in it for the long haul. The way they’d catch each other’s gaze across a room, how they’d constantly seek one another, something about them calmer the second they knew the other was near.  It was sweet. A word she’d never attributed to either one of them before, and she was happy for them, pleased that they both seemed to have finally found the soft epilogue they both deserved. 

She’s struggling to stay asleep, only managing what feels like a handful of minutes at a time as she lays on the bench seat of the jet, only a thin blanket between her and the air-conditioning that was chilling her to the bone. Derek’s snoring from further down the jet makes JJ tense, her jaw tight as she briefly considers getting up and hitting him with her travel pillow. They were flying home overnight, her least favourite time to fly, but she tells herself she’ll be home in time to do Henry’s morning routine, to hug her little boy and the man she loves and remember why she does this job. 

JJ rolls over onto her other side, huffing under her breath as she readjusts the blanket around her. She’s about to close her eyes, to attempt again to get to sleep, but she’s distracted, her attention pulled towards movement at the table just across from her. It’s only then she realises Aaron and Emily are talking to each other, their voices low and soft as they make sure they don’t wake anyone. 

“We can go for breakfast,” Emily says quietly, “At that diner he loves with the smiley face pancakes.” 

Aaron smiles at her, his eyes sparkling even in the low light of the cabin, “And the terrible coffee.” 

Emily chuckles and reaches for his hand under the table, their linked fingers in JJ’s direct line of sight. Emily runs her thumb back and forth over the heel of Aaron’s hand, pressing comfort into his skin. 

Cases with kids were always rough on the whole team, but JJ knew they hit her and Aaron a little harder. It was inevitable that they’d see their children in the victims, and themselves in the parents. The grief they had to bear witness too visceral, crawling under their skin in a way that made her restless and Aaron frustrated. It would usually make him snap at them, his desperation to find the unsub, to stop anyone else from being hurt, would make tensions rise. 

It had been different this time. Emily seemed to be able to calm him down with nothing more than a look, or a conversation no one else would be privy to - the two of them briefly alone in a corner somewhere, looking every part the professionals they were for everyone who didn’t know what to look for. How she’d stand a tiny bit closer to him than necessary, or how he’d let his fingers linger over hers as he passed her a case file. 

Now they were on the way home, and they thought everyone was asleep, they had nothing to hide, open in their affection for each other in a way that had JJ hiding her smile with the scratchy blanket laid over her. 

“You’re the coffee drinker,” she smiles at him, squeezing his hand, scrunching her nose up slightly, “Although, their tea leaves a lot to be desired too. How do you mess up tea?” 

Aaron smiles, his shoulders visibly relaxing before he leans in to kiss the corner of her lips, “I’ll make you some tea before we go.”

She hums contentedly and kisses him before she rests her head on his shoulder, both of her hands wrapped around his under the table, her thumb still drawing circles on his skin. She tries, and fails, to stifle a yawn, “You really know the way to a girl's heart.” 

“Not any girl’s heart,” he replies, turning his head to kiss her head, “Just yours.” 

JJ feels strangely guilty, as if she’s encroaching on something she shouldn’t, their love for each other, something she’d already known existed confirmed by this small interaction, felt like it should just be theirs. It’s a side of them, especially of Aaron, that she wouldn’t have thought existed. It makes her feel even guiltier, silly even for not knowing they were capable of this, and it makes her even happier that they’d found each other, that they were able to bring this out of each other. 

Emily tilts her head to smile up at him, yawning again, not even trying to cover it this time, “You’re sweet. It’s a shame no one will ever believe me.” 

He unclasps one of his hands from Aaron hers and strokes his knuckles down her jaw, touching her with such reverence that JJ can almost feel the tenderness of it, “You should get some sleep, sweetheart.” 

She kisses him before she settles her head back on his shoulder, “Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

JJ watches them for a few more moments, smiling to herself as Aaron watches Emily before he closes his eyes and rests his cheek on top of her head. JJ closes her eyes, sighing contentedly to herself as she thinks of her friends and the happiness they deserved.

___

Derek

He’s running late. 

He winces as he reads a text from his date, her warning that this was his last chance with her making him walk even quicker. He’d re-arranged twice already, both times because of cases, and he knew she’d keep her promise not to re-arrange for a third time. 

He’s walking quickly enough that he almost doesn’t see them, his casting glance into a restaurant he’s going past so brief that if it wasn’t for his double take he never would have noticed Emily and Aaron standing near the host’s table. They are clearly waiting for a table, and Derek vaguely remembers overhearing Emily talking about date night in the break room earlier, her smile soft as she tried to contain it by sinking her teeth into her lower lip. She’d stopped talking when she saw him, her smile slipping away as she and JJ realised he was there. She’d made her excuses and left, as uncomfortable as he was with her talking about her relationship with Aaron in front of him. 

Derek knows he reacted poorly when they told the team that they were together. He made assumptions and said some things his mother would have clipped him around the ear for. He had hurt his friends in a way he regretted, even if he did stand by his concerns about what their relationship would mean for the team, the fallout from Emily’s death and reappearance still lingering in the back of his mind. Everything that happened with Ian Doyle had changed his perception of her, altered the idea he had of her in his mind, and her relationship with Aaron had done the same. He didn’t see it. Even now, close to two months since Emily and Aaron told them that they were together, Derek still didn’t see how two people who he’d always considered to be so different could claim to fit together. 

As he stands there, watching two people he considers part of his family, he starts to realise just how wilfully blind he’s been. 

Even though he’s running late, he comes to a stop, frozen in place by his curiosity as he takes the opportunity to watch them without them realising he’s there, to see them relaxed and just as Emily and Aaron, not Prentiss and Hotch. 

Emily has her arms both wrapped around one of Aaron’s and her cheek against his shoulder as she says something Derek can’t hear. She reaches for Aaron’s hand and lifts it to her lips, kissing his knuckles - an action mostly lost to her wide smile - as she looks at him. Whatever shoes she’s wearing have made almost his height, and they are just staring at each other, their eyes level as they talk. Emily had always been tactile, so that doesn’t surprise him. 

The way Aaron is looking at her, as if she’d hung the stars in the sky herself, does. 

He’s smiling widely, in a way Derek and Emily used to joke he wasn’t capable of, his entire focus on her as she talks to him. Derek thinks he could walk right into the restaurant, stop watching them from a distance and say his name, and Aaron still wouldn’t notice. A far cry from the man who was usually so on edge, so aware of his surroundings that Derek had wondered more than once how he ever relaxed enough to sleep.

It was like Derek was looking at a different man. Someone so at ease, so relaxed, in a way that Emily clearly brought out of him that he barely recognised him. A man so in love that it made him feel like a fool for not seeing it before, for doubting the strength of the relationship that had clearly been in front of him all this time. He knew Penelope will roll her eyes at him when he tells her what he has seen. That she’ll demand she was right all along and make him say it too, her smile smug and wide as he would finally admit he was wrong about Emily and Aaron’s relationship. 

Aaron’s love for Emily is obviously reciprocated. Emily can’t stop smiling at Aaron, interrupting herself as she leans in to kiss him as if she can’t help herself from doing so. Aaron laughs at her and kisses her forehead, smiling softly - only in a way Derek had ever seen him smile at Jack before- as he pulls back. Whatever he says makes Emily laugh too, her head thrown back with it as her joy attracts the attention of some of the people around them. It’s something else neither of them seem to notice, too wrapped up in each other to pay any attention to anyone else. 

Derek watches as they are interrupted, the host’s smile polite as she tells them their table is ready. Aaron slips his arm around Emily as they follow the host, his hand on her lower back as they disappear out of sight into the depths of the restaurant. 

He feels his phone vibrate in his hand, another text from his date pinging onto the screen, and he shakes his head at himself and carries on walking, sending a response that he is on his way and would be there soon. She replies almost immediately, drawing a smile from Derek as she says she’s sure he’ll come up with a way to apologise.

He knows it isn’t the only apology he’ll have to make after tonight.

___

Dave

Dave wasn’t entirely sure when his offer to help with Jack’s soccer team changed from the occasional Saturday to every Saturday. He’d grumble to himself every morning as he got out of bed and made himself coffee, but by the time he arrived at the soccer field, he would always be excited - even if he did keep that excitement to himself. The kids kept him young, and their joy as they honed their skills gave him a break from the awful things he saw in his job. His Saturdays filled with laughter and excitement instead of th silence of his house.

It may make him feel like a sentimental fool, but he mostly enjoyed seeing Aaron and Jack happy. Seeing his friend and his son enjoy something together, something that only a handful of years ago would have seemed impossible, was his favourite part of all of this. It felt like a glimpse into his friend’s closely guarded private life. A window Aaron let him look through every Saturday morning. 

And in recent months, it had given him a better look into Emily’s life too. 

She’d started coming to Jack’s soccer practice and games before she and Aaron told everyone they were together. At first, he’d accepted it without thought. He knew they were friends, knew that they’d got closer since her return from Paris. She would spend a lot of her spare time with Aaron and Jack and she seemed better for it, more herself - or whoever the new version of her was - than she had been since before Ian tore through all their lives. He was glad they’d found a confidant in each other, and while he wished neither of them had ever been through what they had, that neither of his friends had come face to face with death and won, he was grateful they had each other. He’d started to think there was more to their relationship than simply friendship just a week before they told the team - something that Emily didn’t believe at all - but he hadn’t said anything, content to let them tell everyone at their own pace. 

It had been months now. Four since they told the team about them and six since their first date. They were happier than he’d ever known either of them to be and he had a funny feeling he might one day be hosting another wedding in his backyard. 

“Come on Jack, you can do it!” 

Emily’s encouragement from the bleachers makes Dave smile as it tears through the sound of the rest of the crowd, and he exchanges a look with Aaron, a quick meeting of their eyes before they return the focus to the team. There were only a few seconds left and the teams were in a draw, Jack had the ball and was heading towards the goal, spurred on by the excited yells from his team and family. He kicks the ball and the keeper on the other team missed it. The whistle blows just a second after the ball hits the back of the net, and Jack wins the game for his team. 

Jack screams excitedly as he runs over to Aaron, yelling at the top of his lungs as he throws himself at his father, “Daddy! I did it! I scored.” 

“You did so good, buddy,” Aaron exclaims, lifting Jack up into his arms and kissing his cheek, “I’m so proud of you.” 

Jack looks at Dave as he walks over to them, and he smiles widely, “We won, Uncle Dave.”

“You did great, kiddo,” he replies, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He smiles as he looks past him and sees Emily walking towards them and he nods over to her, drawing Jack’s attention in her direction, “Someone else wants to congratulate you too.” 

Jack’s eyes go wide in excitement and he scrambles down from Aaron’s arms and runs towards her, “Emmy! I won the game.”

“I saw, honey,” She beams at him, her smile wide and beautiful as she leans down and catches him in her arms, lifting him and kissing his cheek repeatedly. She’s getting mud, sweat, and whatever the hell else little boys were always covered in, all over a shirt Dave knows cost more than most people make in a month, and he knows she doesn’t care, “You were amazing.” 

Dave finds himself looking at Aaron and he can’t help but smile as he watches him watch them. His hands are in his pockets and his shoulders are relaxed, a wistful look on his face as he watches his son and the woman he loves together. He can’t help but close the gap between him and Aaron and he pats him on the shoulder, his smile getting wider when Aaron clears his throat, his cheeks pink with embarrassment at being so obviously in love. 

“They look good together, huh?” Dave asks, looking back at Emily and Jack, smiling as he watches Emily nod along to whatever Jack is saying to her, adjusting her hold on him in her arms so she can keep him comfortably on her hip. 

“Yeah,” Aaron replies, that wistful look in his eyes again as he looks over at them. This time Emily looks up and smiles at him, whispering something to Jack and laughing along with him before they walk towards them, “They do.” 

“You all look good together,” Dave adds, “Happy.” 

Before Aaron can reply Emily is next to them and talking, her smile wide and happy, “I was thinking, since Jack here scored the winning goal - he deserves pancakes.” 

Jack nods excitedly and looks at his father, “Please Daddy?” 

Aaron looks back and forth between Emily and Jack, and the almost identical looks on their faces that he could never say no to. He makes a show of sighing, as if he wasn’t planning on taking them for pancakes anyway, “I guess I have no choice.” 

Jack claps his hands excitedly and slips down out of Emily’s arms, “I’m going to go say goodbye to the team.” 

“Okay, buddy,” Aaron says, running his fingers through his hair as he runs away, “Don’t-”

“Leave your sight,” Jack replies, turning to smile at him before he continues to run away, “I know.” 

Aaron chuckles and turns to look at Emily, “He never used to do that before you.” 

She shrugs and leans into him, stamping her lips against his, “You know you love it.” 

Aaron wraps his arm around her to keep her close, and looks at Dave, “Want to join us for lunch?” 

He considers it, thinks about accepting the offer, but it would feel like he was intruding. As if this window into their lives should only exist here on the soccer field. So he shakes his head and clears his throat. 

“I won’t this time,” he says, his smile turning into a teasing smirk, “Don’t want to cramp your style.” 

Emily chuckles, but she’s distracted when she sees Jack waving her over to his friends, “Duty calls,” she kisses Aaron’s cheek before she pulls away from him and winks at Dave as she walks past him, “See you, Monday.” 

Dave smiles at Aaron as he watches Emily walk away, “Promise me something?” 

Aaron hums and looks at him, “What?” 

“When you marry her, make me your best man.”

He half expects Aaron to wave him off. To roll his eyes and say they were only 6 months into this and he was way ahead of them. Instead, he simply smiles and nods, and Dave knows that the next wedding in his backyard might be sooner than he thinks. 

___

Jessica 

When Emily invited her over for dinner, Jessica didn’t hesitate for a moment before saying yes. 

In the last nine months since Aaron had told her about his relationship with Emily, she’d seen just how happy he and Jack were. It was like Aaron had been brought back to life, like he was alive again after years of simply living. It reminded her of the teenage boy she’d met a lifetime ago, of who he’d been when they first met when Haley brought him home. 

She knew Emily was the reason for that. She’d brought him back to himself whilst he did the same for her. She’d done the same for Jack too, made the little boy laugh and smile in ways that Jessica thought had died alongside Haley. She knew her father didn’t like it, that anytime the little boy would mention his father’s girlfriend he’d tense, but she was happy for them. Delighted that they’d found the love and support that they deserved, and she was so glad she got to be a part of it. 

Usually, when she saw them it was at Aaron’s place, but this time it was at Emily’s. Her apartment is huge. It looks like it’s fallen out of a magazine - pristine and beautiful and barely lived in. The few personal touches are toys for her cat - Jack’s new best friend Sergio - and pictures of Emily, Jack and Aaron on just about every available surface. 

She watches them cook dinner together. It’s like a well practised dance as they move around each other in her kitchen, smiling and exchanging soft touches and glances. It was clear they felt at home together, that they were as comfortable here as they were at Aaron’s apartment, and Jessica knew that had more to do with each other than where they were. 

After dinner, Aaron takes Jack to bed - up in his bedroom that Emily had decorated especially for him. He’d told Jessica all about it, his excitement over Captain America sheets and bright blue walls palpable, and it had only confirmed for her what she already knew. They were a family now, or were at the very least on the fast track to becoming one. 

She and Emily sit in the living room together drinking wine, and she smiles at a particular photo Emily has on the wall. It’s one of her and Aaron, him in a suit and her in a flower covered dress, a teal shawl around her shoulders. Neither one of them is looking at the camera, but at the other, the same look in their eyes that she’d seen in the kitchen earlier. 

“Who took that picture?”

“Oh,” Emily says, looking over at it for a moment, “Pen took it. It was at JJ and Will’s wedding a few months ago.” 

“The one in Dave’s backyard?” She asks incredulously, trying to imagine how big his house had to be if that was the size of the yard.

Emily nods, “That’s the one. It was beautiful,” she smiles, a spark of mischievousness in it, “Dave should go into wedding planning if the whole FBI thing doesn’t work out for him.” 

Jessica chuckles, “From what I know about Dave, he wouldn’t hate that. I love weddings,” she adds without really meaning to.

Emily hums, “Me too. They are always beautiful, no matter where they are.”

Jessica nods, “Haley and Aaron got married in our local church. The reception was in a rec centre, but she spent days decorating it and you couldn’t tell in the end,” she says, smiling sadly as she thinks of her sister. She only realises she’s said it out loud when she looks up at Emily, who is nodding, her lips pressed together as if she’s looking for something to say. Later, Jessica wouldn’t be sure if it was guilt or because she’d simply been meaning to say it for months, but she carries on, “She’d be happy for you,” she says, smiling when Emily’s eyes go slightly wide, “She always liked you.”

Emily chuckles nervously, “She did?” 

Jessica hums and nods, smiling to herself as she thinks of a conversation she’d had with Haley years ago, “Yeah. She told me more than once that she thought there was something between you and Aaron.” 

She laughs for real this time, something she tries to catch by pressing her lips together, “Really?” 

Jessica laughs too, tears pressing at the back of her eyes like they always did when she thought of her sister, “Really. She said that you were smart and pretty, and that she couldn’t even hate you for it because you were so nice,” she smiles, and Emily does too, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment, “She also said that you’d be good for him. She was right.” 

For the first time since she’d got to know her, she sees tears shine in Emily’s eyes. She swallows thickly and gives herself a moment before she replies, “Thank you. That…thank you.” 

Jessica hugs her, because she can’t think of any reason not to, “Thank you for loving them both,” she says, smiling at Emily as she pulls back, “And for making them both so happy.” 

Emily smiles at her and squeezes her arm, “Well they make me very happy too.” 

Jessica nods and blows out a slow breath, a laugh catching in her throat as she tries to stop herself from crying, “Can I ask you something?” 

She nods, “Of course.” 

“Does Aaron really snore as loudly as Haley used to complain he did?” 

The question throws Emily and she laughs, her hand attempting to capture it as it tumbles free. Jessica can’t help but join in, something about the other woman’s laugh infectious, but before she gets an answer Aaron walks back into the room. He furrows his brow in confusion and looks back and forth between the two of them. 

“What are you laughing at?” He asks, and his confusion only makes them laugh more, but Emily recovers first and stands up, stamping her lips against his cheek before she slips by him.

“Nothing,” she replies before she looks at Jessica, “More wine?” 

Jessica nods, “Yes please.” 

“Honey?” Emily asks, and he nods too. She smiles and heads out of the room down the hall to her kitchen. Aaron shakes his head lovingly as she goes and sits on the couch, and then he looks up at his ex-sister-in-law, his smile lopsided when he realises she’s staring. 

“Nothing,” she replies, her smile getting wider as she shakes her head, “It’s just nice to see you so happy, that’s all.” 

He hums and nods, looking in the direction of where Emily had disappeared down the hall as if he was seeking her out, “It’s nice being this happy.” 

[justatypicalwizard]

Meta-isekai | K. Bakugo ✧ Act I Scene III

-`♡´- In which Bakugo gets isekaied into a shoyo romance. -`♡´-

Peak stupidity ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Act I 𓆩⚝𓆪

Scene III: The pact with the devil

ʚɞ Bakugo woke up. The sun was grazing his face through the curtains which were blown gently by a warm breeze. Yesterday’s evening forecast chirped about a perfectly pleasant temperature and humidity ahead. Mum seemed to be cooking something delicious smelling.

ʚɞ The day seemed fucking pristine. Bakugo shivered, iced to the bone. Still not used to this horrifying lukewarm life he thought to himself.

ʚɞ During lunch the blonde had one mission - spot the girl, the crush let’s call her.

ʚɞ Guided by The Cat, Bakugo found himself making rounds near Crush’s classroom.

ʚɞ She was sitting amidst a few friends, passing time on talks in a relaxed manner with a giggle here and there.

ʚɞ Damn it, here we go. Bakugo thought as he made a u-turn into the classroom catching some of the students next to the door off guard. As if reading his mind, The Cat bit into his forearm, hard.

ʚɞ Taking in a sharp breath Bakugo froze. It took an enormous amount of willpower not to break down screaming. A girl seemed to recognise something was off and she asked the blonde whether everything was alright.

ʚɞ He was just past the door frame. Too many heads, some of which turned towards him, were separating him from Crush for her to notice the small commotion.

ʚɞ Mumbling a ‘yeah, just a cramp after workout’, Bakugo retreated out of the classroom. Definitely not a French leave.

ʚɞ Half-furious, half-in pain Bakugo found himself outside, looking for a secluded place to wreak his anger. When he found a strip of green squeezed between the school’s wall and fence, he finally let out a, rather quiet not to draw attention, muffled scream.

ʚɞ “What the actual fuck?” The blonde hissed.

“I should ask you the same.’’ Without much regret The Cat sprawled out on the grass.

“I wanted to go and talk with the girl.”

“Yes, and that would be a horrible mistake. How did you even get that idea?”

“I don’t know, because normal people talk to each other, huh?” Bakugo came into The Cat’s furry face which put it off and made it jump onto the fence.

“And what exactly would you tell her?”

“That I-” Oh, damn it. He would’ve come up with something.

“See? You would make a clown out of yourself and mung the whole thing up. I was quite serious when I said you only had one chance.”

Rolling his eyes excessively and crossing his arms on his chest, Bakugo clammed up more than he would like to admit. It was humiliating to get scolded by a freaking cat! How much could that take? Asking out a girl on a date and doing a few romantic gestures like some flowers, cupcakes or whatever. It can’t be that hard even though he didn’t have much experience with dating-

“Okay, I get your point.” The blonde huffed looking sideways. “Then what?”

“Okay, I don’t know, and I don’t want to know, what world you come from but while you have been getting angry with every blooming flower and hissing at every ray of sunshine, I have been observing you. You are quite a meticulous creature, aren’t you? You need some sort of a mission to accomplish or else you get lost. A goal, might I say.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek Bakugo stayed silent.

“Let’s play your best cards then and treat it as a mission. There are some major events coming up that may boost your actions. We should certainly use this leverage. You will have to manage from event to event while simultaneously keeping up the grades and after school activities, as well as your relationship with your friends. Do you think you can manage?”

Much to The Cat’s surprise Bakugo grinned. He may not have a lot of experience in dating and doing romantic shit. He may also be a tad bit aggressive sometimes, at least that’s what the nerds around say. But standing up to difficulties and upkeeping a murderous schedule for personal gains? Now he’s in his element.

“Not a fucking problem.”

“The more I get scared of that homeworld of yours, the more it interests me. Like true crime.”

“Do you know about the girl?” Bakugo asked.

The mission form really spoke to him. Suddenly he could implement what he knew best to this bizarre situation. First scout, get background information. Second, set goals - what is it you want to aim for? Third, come up with a plan. Fourth, carry out the scheme.

“Everything. This is also why I didn’t want you barging in on her.”

“As in?”

“She’s your total opposite.” The Cat started to wander. “Yeah, that concludes it all.” The wandering came to an end.

“Huh?” Bakugo grimmaced. “Can’t you be more specific? Opposite like she’s shy or a nerd or brain-damaged in maths?”

“Oh, there is nothing more specific. This is an ‘x reader’ trope so there are no concrete traits to her. Maybe later there will be some hints of certain characteristics but nothing over specific. Oh and also the timeline of the story is not realistic but rather loosely following chapters which circle round the, earlier mentioned, big events.”

Bakugo stood there dumbfounded. The Cat could equally give him a lecture on black holes and he would get as much of it.

“Don’t worry your pretty blonde head over it. I will help you out with everything!”

Tag list: @ita606 @blueberrysoaps @bakunianadecorazon

[ceramicbird]

so i finished gideon the ninth last night. and i am still reeling!!!

[sskk-manifesto]

Next time we should just skip over ep 3 and do a chapters 84-87 reread

[oveliagirlhaditright]

-randomly sees a screenshot of jamie and lily from the city of bones movie, where they seem to embody jace and clary, and am once again sad that we didn't get a city of ashes movie-

[hyperfixiation-station]

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him. 

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face. 

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you  could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room. 

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you. 

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.” 

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable”  and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you. 

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments. 

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around. 

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge? 

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies. 

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in. 

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound. 

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening. 

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out. 

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies. 

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again. 

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

@redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05  @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz  @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho

[plethorawrites]

hey! what about clark who always makes you ride him because he’s afraid that with him on top he might hurt you cause he’ll lose control of his powers?

Oookkayyy. I believe I'm veering into some very precarious territory, lmao. But, yess, I do have thoughts! (NSFW content)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Despite the fact that Clark Kent was 6'3 (while slouching), 225 pounds, and otherwise incredibly built, he was perhaps the least physically intimidating person alive. In fact, he was practically terrified of his own features—the same ones that made you utterly melt.

It wasn't until you discovered his identity as Superman that you realized the reason his hands never actually touched you during hugs, and he preferred you holding his arm over holding hands with each other. He was afraid. He always had been, in a way, but it was usually manageable.

That was because he wasn't trying to pursue a relationship.

You were affectionate, craving attention in whatever form possible, from cuddling on the couch to just grazing his pinky with yours while at lunch. And you wished he would return it more than he did. He wanted to. He really did. It was just so damn hard when he was terrified to hurt you. He'd never forgive himself if he did something that harmed you in any way.

The more physical your relationship became, the harder it became to reduce contact to the minimum amount he could get away with. You wanted more and so did he. But he could crush you without even meaning to, break your bones by just holding your hips, maybe even something worse than both of those things.

No, if you needed intimacy, he would gladly give it to you, since he wanted it just as badly, but he'd refrain from doing anything that could cause you even the slightest bit of discomfort or harm. You, being on top, was the only sensible answer.

Not to mention, incredibly attractive.

You always were, but there was something about the angle, about him just laying there, staring at you, watching you get lost in your own euphoria that drove him insane. The way your hair kept falling into your face, your fingernails kept digging further into the skin of his shoulders or chest, how your eyes sparkled brighter than usual.

To say nothing of how you actually felt, your hips soft against his bare skin with every slight roll you made, grinding against him slowly to prolong your time together as long as possible.

He could barely handle your usual smile, but the one you were giving him right now, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress a little huff of laughter made his heart clench.

"What?" He wondered, his breathing a bit heavy. He was doing a terrible job of keeping his composure and was pretty sure you could tell.

You shook your head, your hands planted firmly on his chest while admiring the way his head always tilted when he was curious. "Nothing," you mumbled, the word taking a little while to find since you had to focus enough to remember how to speak. "You just..." Your lips pursed as one especially long drag of your hips made your breath hitch. "... You're like a pillow prince." You teased a moment later.

Clark's mouth dropped a little, in surprise but not offense. You weren't exactly wrong. He was laying there, his hands behind his head, watching you do all the work, like always. But it wasn't because he wanted to. In fact, he was itching to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his hands and it was taking all his restraint not to flip you over. He just couldn't risk it.

"Maybe I just like the view," he replied, his hips jerking up slightly when he felt you clench around him. His jaw tightened at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he reveled in the feeling for a moment. "You—" he swallowed, his eyes opening. "—are you so perfect on top of me."

Another bashful smile spread across your face as you dropped your head and resisted the urge to move your hair, afraid that if he moved his hands, he'd lose control entirely.

"You like watching me struggle," you muttered, your hands moving to his shoulders to grip them tightly, your movements slowing to a stop, trying to catch your breath. "Admit it..." You panted. "... you're a sadist."

He laughed, his body shaking under you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he assured you. "You're doing good for me."

You hummed slightly at the praise, closing your eyes for a moment. "It's exhausting," you admitted, your legs killing you despite the enjoyment. "Always so... difficult."

"I know," he responded sympathetically, hesitantly removing his hands from behind your back, hovering them over your thighs for a while, contemplating before carefully setting his hands on them. He just couldn't resist anymore. You were too damn tempting.

You moved your hands to cover his, a small smile tugging at your lips. "You gonna help me, for once?" You murmur, trying to joke but failing. The words came out with too much lust for that.

He nodded slightly, focusing on making sure his fingers didn't accidentally dig into your skin too hard. "Tell me," he said seriously, staring into your eyes. "The second I take it too far."

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him. "You're not going to hurt me," you whispered. "I trust you."

[cutetanuki-chan]

sometimes I see people being confused where alectostasia ship came from so here's a little bit of run down

I'm not really good with words so it might be clunky

what we know from the text

Anastasia tries to achieve 'perfect lyctorhood', something goes wrong during her ascension, John kills Samael, Anastasia fails her attempt

Anastasia moves to the ninth, continues working on the house or only founding it at that time

John asks Anastasia to help build the tomb 'I built that tomb with Anastasia, designed every inch of it.'

somewhere between working on it and Alecto's entombment, Alecto and Anastasia make a vow where Alecto basically swears as a cavalier to her 'Alecto said, I remember my vows. As I swore to Anastasia I swear to you. I am in your service until you bid me the favour, and whatsoever you appoint I shall perform, and consider the vow rendered. This is what I promised, until such a time as you deal with me as you see fit.'

as John leading Alecto to the tomb, she asks to see Anastasia 'She had said, There are almost no beautiful things left. Where is Anastasia? Let me talk to Anastasia.'

presumable Anastasia is the one to inflict to the ninth house importance of keeping her bloodline and worshiping of the tomb through all of those years

Anastasia's bones are in the tomb 'She looked back beyond, and she saw Anastasia, tucked where nobody would find her: Anastasia, all bones. Not really Anastasia. But Anastasia’s body without the meat on it, snuggled right into the curve of the rock, ready to close the door whenever it was opened. She remembered Anastasia.'

Alecto immediately getting chill after tasting Harrow's blood 'The child was silent; but her blood was on Alecto’s lips, and through that blood Alecto was made to understand what it was, and was astonished exceedingly. Alecto put away wrath and said: Thou art the blood of the tomb-keeper.'

Alecto saying sorry for Samael

the implications

the vow on itself is very interesting, at first we all know how usually normal cavalier and necromancer relationships are. then for Alecto to comply to that, indicates she should be pretty trusting of Anastasia, and their relationships at least somehow better than with other lyctors who were terrified of her

then there's also the tombkeeper blood thing, what serves as a check note for Alecto after waking up, and means the initial purpose of the ninth house was actually waiting for rock to roll away

and one part of the vow seems to imply 'if anyone beside a tombkeeper wake you, slay them as they came to hurt you', as could hinted on a protection from other lyctors who wanted to kill Alecto? (Then Alecto remembered the vow, and turned back upon the altar to face the second child and raised the sword with wrath in her heart, for they meant to bring destruction upon her.)

then the matter of Anastasia's bones laying in the tomb next to the rock. not sure if it's just her skeleton or she made herself a some construct mechanism from her bones. and not clear if she got entombed on her own volition or John closed them both there, but being entombed together five feet apart cause we are not gay

there's also some oddness in Alecto immediately after waking saying she's sorry for Samael, but I won't go into that here, anyway Anastasia was trying to find a better way to lyctorhood and I think in her more close relationships with Alecto she figured out something that John wasn't telling them, before or after her ascension

and some theories

I think I first heard this theory from @/mayasaura, that ninth house tradition of telling secrets while submerged in the salt water could've corelate with Anastasia trying to have a talk like that with Alecto since she feels the most at ease in the salt water, so means pool time for alectostasia too

another one that I really like but not sure how much legs it actually would have in canon, one of the reasons Nona was so enamored with her body cause Harrow is a spitting image of Anastasia, first saw @/corvophobia talking about it

coming back to Harrow, could there be anything more to her taking immediate affection to the Body a la some fuckery with Anastasia's spirt/tombkeeper's blood

more people explained it better, I try to reblog most of the theories in my side blog, you can check it out there but some of it explicit just in case

anyway in conclusion, as I keep procrastinating with my work, I don't think they were making out 24/7 in Canaan house in canon but something for sure happened there between them

[not-neverland06]

I don't know why I bite

Logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.

You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you. 

You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help. 

You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott. 

You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look. 

But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together. 

“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it. 

You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way. 

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you. 

It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely. 

“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself. 

It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain. 

“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off. 

You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse. 

“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells. 

He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often. 

You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.” 

Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”

Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him. 

“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”

You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong. 

You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”

You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple. 

You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back. 

It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different. 

Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience. 

You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do. 

He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself. 

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything. 

You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home. 

It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you. 

You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry. 

You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy. 

He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag. 

You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.

Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do. 

You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.  

He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?

It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet. 

He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do. 

You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him. 

“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you. 

She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?” 

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”

You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong. 

He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief. 

There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care. 

There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful. 

You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is. 

It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped. 

You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing. 

There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone. 

It feels so wrong. 

It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you. 

Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face. 

He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”

You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”

You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low. 

You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”

“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation. 

This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism. 

You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch. 

You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself. 

You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself. 

It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you. 

They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other. 

Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new. 

You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great. 

A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable. 

You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting. 

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.

He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily. 

“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you. 

He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”

Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging. 

You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut. 

You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you. 

You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair. 

He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets. 

You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other. 

This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore. 

You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone. 

He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on. 

You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy. 

a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡

[chrollohearttags]

love thy neighbor • r. sukuna

(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…

📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie

wc: 3.0K

🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.

nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it���d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.

“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ‘Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”

plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.

however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.

“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”

but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.

“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”

plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.

“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”

“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”

“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”

“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”

it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.

“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.

“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.

“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.

“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.

observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…

“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.

“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.

“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!

“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”

“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”

plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”

“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.

“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.

“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”

but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.

“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.

“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”

“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”

“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”

never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.

“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“

and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.

[a-b-riddle]

Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

[wisecura]

You Did What?

Kouhai Satoru Gojo x f!Senpai-Reader (age gap) 5k

an: this is apart of a request I got not too long ago for an arranged marriage with an age gap for my star bby Gojo. The second one is coming out very soon for the reversal (he's a bit older than you).

summary: Satoru Gojo was your over-the-top, unbearable, yet strangely endearing kouhai back in school. Maybe you were just a little too sweet to him, though, because now he's showing up at your door with a marriage proposal in hand.

MINORS DNI AFTER THIS POINT.

warnings: obsessive behaviors, noncon/dubcon, arranged marriage, power play, domineering subby, possessive behavior, small jealousy, implied stalking, fingering, popped cherries, he's a good boy, age gap, usage of the word 'little' (might be a lil belittling), minors DNI, not entirely heavily proofread

Life in Tokyo had been nothing short of abysmal.

Between the tiny, overpriced shoebox apartments and the always-packed streets, it wasn’t exactly the dream you'd had in mind. But hey, at least everything you needed was within walking distance. 

And yeah, you were always zipping out of town for work, trying to carve out your spot in the pecking order. Just 22, rocking your first real job and your own place, but your social life?

Nonexistent.

You could whine about it, but what's the point?

Whenever you caught up with old classmates, you’d play it cool, telling them you were out living it up, just so they wouldn’t worry. Pretty sure they were spinning the same tales to you. In your line of work, there’s not much room to be anything but selfless.

You kept in touch with a few underclassmen, especially the clingiest of them all—Satoru Gojo. Normally, you wouldn’t bother, you were several classes ahead of him, after all. He only graduated last summer, turned 19 in the winter, and then took over as the head of the Gojo clan that next summer.

But ever since you graduated, he’s been all over your lock screen, bombarding you with texts. A quiet day meant only getting 12 messages. In high school, he was just as clingy, but at least back then, he could just hang around you in person instead of blowing up your phone.

You’d think he’d have outgrown this by now, but nope—by noon today, you’ve already racked up 7 messages from him. It’s kind of cute, sometimes. But let’s be real, trying to get a boyfriend with Satoru always on your tail? Yeah, good luck with that.

The rain had been pounding relentlessly all evening, its steady drumming against the windows filling your tiny Tokyo apartment with a soothing rhythm. Wrapped in a blanket on the couch, you were finally relaxing when your phone buzzed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

You glanced at the screen. Another text from him. And another, and another-

Gojo: What are you up to?

Gojo: You never answered my last message. Did you fall asleep?

Gojo: Or maybe you’re ignoring me...again.

Gojo: That hurts, you know. I thought we were close.

With a sigh, you set the phone face down. Satoru Gojo, your overly attached kouhai from high school, had been this way since the day you met—clingy, needy, and always too much. He had always claimed you were the only one who could "handle" him.

And sure, you had a soft spot for him, maybe more than you should. But on days like today, his relentless need for attention was just too much. The knock at your door was abrupt, loud, and insistent, snapping you out of your thoughts. You stared at the door, hesitating, then your phone buzzed once more.

Gojo: I’m outside. Open up.

With a sigh, you dragged yourself off the couch. When you swung the door open, there stood Satoru, soaked to the bone. His normally fluffy white hair was slicked to his forehead, and water dripped from his clothes onto your floor.

“Satoru,” you exclaimed, startled. “What the hell are you doing? Why are you soaked?”

He waved a hand dismissively, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. You blinked at him. You should’ve expect this, but honestly he'd never been this forward. 

“You’re soaked! You're gonna catch a cold, you idiot.”

“Would you take care of me if I did?” he asked with a grin, but his voice somewhat off, was missing its usual upbeat playfulness. He took the towel you handed him but made no move to dry himself off, seemingly content to let you fret over him.

As you scanned him for any signs of injury, he watched you with an intensity that said he might just enjoy this concern a bit too much. Maybe he was hurt? But knowing him, that seemed unlikely—

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” crossing your arms.

He flopped onto your couch as if he owned the place, his damp clothes leaving a wet spot. "Just wanted to see you," he said, his gaze flitting to yours before darting away.

“You’ve been texting me all day. You could’ve just waited for me to reply.”

He pouted, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “You’re so mean to me. Do you really think I'm that annoying?”

You rolled your eyes. “You can be.”

"Rude," giving you a mock-offended look. Then, after a pause, "You've been busy, though...haven't you? Out a lot lately."

You froze, your mind racing to last week. Have you been out a lot? But then you remembered a few days back, when you’d gone on a casual date with someone. It hadn’t been anything serious, but you definitely hadn’t mentioned it to Satoru. Given his flair for the dramatic, he’d likely make a big deal out of it. How did he know you'd been out?

"Work," you said cautiously, watching his expression carefully. “Work,” he echoed, tilting his head as if considering your answer. “That’s it? No fun? No...extracurricular activities?”

“Extracurricular activities?”

“You know,” his tone light but his eyes pinning you, somewhat pouty. “Going out. Meeting people. Spending time with a special someone.”

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

He hummed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his damp hair falling into his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, senpai. You always have been.”

“I’m not lying,” you said firmly, feeling your palms clam up.

“Really?” He grinned, but there was no humor in it. “Then why is it that I heard you’ve been seeing someone?” Your heart skipped a beat. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter, is it true?” You hesitated for a moment too long. “It is, isn’t it?” his voice dropping.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said quickly, not sure why you felt the need to explain yourself. “It was just one date. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened? So you went out with someone and didn’t think to tell me?”

“Why would I tell you?” 

“Because I care about you,” he said, rising abruptly. “Because I thought we were close.”

“We are, but that doesn’t mean I owe you every detail of my personal life,” you shot back. He took a step closer, his damp shoes squeaking against the floor. “It’s not about owing me. It’s about the fact that you’re mine.”

Your eyes widened, stunned those words even fell out of his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” his voice was trembling now—nervousness? borderline hysteria? Those possessive words had never spilled from his plush lips before, so you were left grappling with their sudden weight. “I’ve always been yours, senpai. And you’ve always been mine. We're best friends. We're the closest. I don’t care what you think. I don’t care what anyone else says. You’re mine.”

“Satoru, you’re being ridiculous,” you said, trying to step back, but he matched your movement, closing the distance.

“Am I?” he asked, his blue eyes wide and desperate. “You have no idea what it’s like. Having your best friend ignore you. Watching you go out with someone else. It’s killing me.”

Watching? “Satoru, you’re not thinking clearly—”

“I’ve never been more clear,” 

“Satoru.” Your mind raced, and you felt the need to put some distance between the two of you. Despite his obvious advantages in strength and size, he'd never given you reason to feel wary—until now. It felt like a mistake letting him into your home. “I...I think you should leave. We need some space, Satoru.” You couldn’t help but fold into yourself, the weight of the conversation draining you.

He paused, the room swallowed in a heavy silence. No words. No breaths. No footsteps. When you dared to look up, his face was crumpled, on the verge of tears. Surprising you even more.

"You’re...telling me to leave?" His voice came out softer than before, soothing yet tinged with desperation. "Why?"

Before you could muster an answer, he dropped to his knees in front of you, crawling closer as you backed up until you were pressed against the wall. He starred up at you, an urgency you've never seen from him before, pressing in on you. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his eyes—wide and pleading like a lost kicked puppy—locked onto yours.

"Please," he whispered, his gaze swimming with tears. tears. "Don’t make me leave. Don’t let someone else take you away from me. I’ll do anything. Just let me stay. Don't push me away."

"Satoru, get up," you said, your voice quivering, fingers trembling as you tried to push him away by pressing on his head. Yet, no matter how much you pushed, his hold remained firm, his strength undeniable. He was soaking the front of your clothes, and it felt very much like an overgrown puppy, coming in from outside.

"No," he murmured, burying his face against your stomach. "Not until you promise. Not until you say I can stay. Until you promise not to go out with anyone else."

“This is insane,” you managed, your hands unintentionally tangling in his soft, albeit wet hair. It was softer than you imagined. Focus—

He suddenly pulled you down with him, his grip unrelenting as you found yourself sinking to your knees in front of him. Now, he was so close, his face just inches from yours, towering over you, his expression a tangled web of desperation and a darker, unspoken plea. Your back was flush against the wall and you weren't sure what he was planning next.

"If you leave me," he said softly, his voice trembling, eyes wild and somewhat dazed. You weren't sure how space equated to you leaving him. You could see him frantically trying to piece the situation back together, the stakes seeming far more catastrophic than the words tumbling from his lips. "I'll make sure you regret it..." His confidence seemed to swell as he caught your wide-eyed stare, "You know I can-You know what I'm capable of."

Your blood ran cold. “Satoru...” a warning

"I don’t want to hurt you," he continued, tears now streaming down his face. He looked pathetic, begging there on his knees, letting out small hiccups with each terrifying sentence after the other. "But I can’t lose you. I can’t share you. Please, senpai. Just say yes. Tell me you won’t shut me out."

"Satoru, this is too much. You're overreacting. I just need some space—"

"Marry me." His eyes lost their frantic sheen, sharpening as they fixed on yours. His tone was firm, non-negotiable. "I’ll make you happy. I’ll give you everything.”

The rain outside roared, its sound blending with the rapid pounding of your heart. His request blindsided you, his words enveloping you, a suffocating, inescapable grip. He couldn't be serious. You two weren't even dating.

"Satoru, we aren't even dati—"

"That doesn't matter. I've always loved you. Even way back then. You've always been the only one on my mind." You gaped at him, stunned by the raw intensity of emotion from someone usually so untouchable. "I-I cant imagine being with anyone else, I need you." He whimpered, pushing into you like the overgrown puppy he was, overly excited to see their master. His head rested against your chest, looking up at you with a pout.

"I've been so good. I've waited so long. I-if anything, I deserve some praise." His words stumbled out, and there it was—the mighty Satoru Gojo, stuttering. He waited for a response, your mouth hanging open at the sheer audacity of this man. The whiplash hitting you quicker than the words. He looked so pitiful.

"P-please, please praise me," he said, a little more desperately, anxious under your flabbergasted stare.

You were definitely outmatched here. You've always had a soft spot for the blue-eyed sorcerer. It was one of the many reasons you gave him as much leeway as you did. As your hand gently came up to his hair, petting him, he practically purred under the touch, his eyes melting with affection. "I knew it."

"Satoru..." you began softly, and as if he could read your mind, knowing you were about to protest, he interrupted. "I'll do whatever you want. Be whoever you want."—"Sato—" "I'll buy you anything, we can go anywhere, live anywhere. I can support you, you won’t need to stay in this shitty apartment anymore—" "Wait a—" "I love you. I love you so much, I couldn’t stand that man touching you, please don’t ever do that again," his face twisted in pain at the mere thought. Your hands reached for his cheeks, gently coaxing his gaze back to you.

"Satoru, calm down." you tried to reason, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I'm not sure if jumping into a marriage is the best idea right now. We need to talk about this more," you insisted, trying to temper the urgency in his eyes. "A marriage isn't just a contract—it's a lifetime commitment. I'm not sure if we're ready for that yet. You haven't even asked me out yet-"

But Satoru was relentless, his desperation clear. "I've already drafted the papers," he confessed, his tone suggesting he’d been planning this for some time. "I can send a formal request to the higher-ups—whenever I want."

The threat remained unspoken yet unmistakable—a solid recommendation from him, the new head of the Gojo clan—in need of an heir, would be near impossible to refuse without severe consequences. The reality of your situation weighed heavily on you. It was as if it was already decided. But why you?

"Satoru, listen to me," you pleaded, searching for some sign of understanding in his intense gaze. "What do you think this marriage would be? What do you even want from this?"

"You," he answered quickly, eagerness palpable. "Ill give you a life where you don't have to worry about money or security. I can give you a house, anywhere you want. Paris, New York, Tokyo—you name it." he's hugging you tighter at each insistence. "Satoru—"

"Luxuries, travel, whatever you want—designer clothes, fancy cars... I'm going to spoil you rotten," he whispered, his voice dripping with certainty, as if it were all already fated to be, the only concern being what next. "And it's not just about the material things—I mean, I'll be there too. Always. Anytime you call, I'll be there."

"You can't do that, Satoru," you countered, feeling the walls closing in as he all but confirmed he would shirk his very important responsibilities if you so asked.

"I will, if its for you. Please, baby. please." You can't deny the way your heart picked up at the unfamiliar pet name. It sent your heart racing, and your cheeks flushed—a reaction he caught and savored, his eyes lighting up, his head tilted, giving him a perfect view of your pretty red cheeks. His grip on you seemed to trail, his hands rubbing your sides.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" you questioned, your voice tinged with both disbelief and a creeping unease as Satoru nudged closer.

"Absolutely...my little wife," he murmured, his voice quivering with a concocted vulnerability as he slipped between your legs, still soaking wet. His presence was close, too close, his body heat mingling uncomfortably with yours. Your heart stutter again at the term.

"Satoru, that’s...that’s too much," you breathed out, feeling his hands settle on your hips, his grip firm yet gentle, as if claiming his place. He's pulling you impossibly closer, his hips between your own. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't turning you on, much to your own surprise. He was shocking you at every turn.

"Isn’t it better when it’s just the two of us?" he continued, his voice a needy whisper that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. He leaned in, his breath warm against your neck, lips brushing your skin with feather-like kisses that trailed up towards your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "No distractions, no one else around. Just me and...my sweet little wife."

His words were laden with possessive desire as he continued his trail of soft kisses, now accompanied by long wet licks that striped across your neck. Your arms found their way around his muscular neck, and your legs instinctively clenched at his sides. His words making you dizzy.

"Y-you think you can make decisions for both of us like that?" you attempted to steady your voice, but it wavered under his touch and the tender assault of his lips.

"’m just trying to secure our happiness together," he insisted, his voice a whisper against your skin, full of confidence—yet pleading. "I know you care about me, deep down. You wouldn’t want to see me hurt, would you, wife?"

Those big eyes begging for your approval, especially when he sensed you might push back. A lovesick puppy.

"Satoru, listen—we really need to talk about boundaries," you insisted, trying to anchor the conversation despite the intoxicating closeness and the persuasive touch of his lips, which fluttered dangerously along the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Boundaries," he repeated, his voice a soft whimper, contemplative, as if he was trying to wrap his mind around the concept. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips pausing as if savoring the very idea. "Okay, we can talk boundaries...as long as they include me being this close." His tone deepened, desperately straining as he pressed closer, grinding into your achy cunt. The soft groan that slipped from him vibrated against your neck, coaxing a surprised whimper from your lips—a sound sweeter than he had ever imagined.

His eyes locked onto yours, reveling in every reaction he elicited from you. Though you weren't married yet, your body seemed to resonate perfectly with his touch, as if it knew him well. The marriage contract had been prepared long in advance, drafted the moment he graduated high school. He had always known you were the one for him. You were, in his eyes, made for him.

He didn't ease up, grinding his length into your clothed pussy, clawing out any reactions he could get, and feeding you his own. And lord was this man vocal.

You wouldn't have believed it if anyone told you—Satoru Gojo, revered as the strongest sorcerer of his generation, the prestigious heir to the Gojo clan, and the youngest prodigy to grace the hallways of Jujutsu Tech, reduced to a puddle of neediness. The type of man that screams top energy, is now rutting against you faster now—helplessly, a begging mess, calling you his "little wife" in a breathy, lovesick plea, so so desperate and clingy.

But you couldn't say anything about it, your leaky pussy was proof enough that you were no better. And the fact that you were so adamant that you weren't interested only moments ago only served to feed his ego.

"What boundaries did my little wife want to set?" His voice confident-damn near arrogantly possessive, as he all but solidified his hold over you, only for you to squirm under his words. He didn't seem to like that as he bit down on your collarbone, earning a sharp gasp from your panting lips.

Before you could wrap your head around the question, he pushed your legs up to your chest, thick fingers digging into the squish of your thighs, instantly knocking the air from your lungs. A mean mating press, and all he needed now was to fuck into you like he meant it. "Satoru—ha—hang on."

But oh-no he wasn't about to hang on, his hips delivered another punishing thrust in between your spread legs, leaving you stuttering out. Your hands that had been wrapped around his neck were now biting into the unfairly smooth expanse of his broad shoulders, leaving behind marks that would surely leave people staring.

Leaning close, his breath hot against your ear, he whispered, a shiver tracing down your spine, crunched up beneath him, "What was my little wife so worried about?" Your eyes proved to him that you were already gone, smothered by his thrusts, and if he were to remove your shorts, you were sure you'd be leaking a pool onto the floor. He cooed softly, his voice a mix of teasing and assurance, "I'll be a good boy. Now tell me, haah—what boundaries did you want to set?"

Beneath him, you trembled, each of your senses heightened by his proximity and the sheer intensity of his gaze, which now swept over you, taking in every reaction before meeting your eyes with a piercing look. "C'mon, pretty girl, tell me, tellme. tellme—" he urged, punctuating each plea with another deep thrust against your clothed cunt.

“Satoru—please—�� you managed between labored breaths, each word as shaky as your body.

“Ooh! Hang on—I've got one—" You could feel his breath on your neck, voice dipping a more taunting note. "how about remaining faithful," His grip on you was aggressive and domineering, yet his tone carried a playful lilt. "See, now that's an easy one," You couldn't stop the whimper that rolled from your lips, each thrust forward sent a sharp press into your clit.

You couldn't make a solid thought if your life depended on it. The room spun a little, your mind foggy with need. You felt dangerously close to agreeing to just about anything he proposed, just to keep him moving.

"S-Satoru, please, don't stop," shameless. absolutely shameless.

“Haah, oh—my sweet little wife—‘m just trying to have a conversation—” He groaned as your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, a raw, primal groan rips out, sending shivers down your spine. “Aah, a conversation you wanted. So tell me what I can do for you.”

You can't move an inch as he slows his momentum down, leaving you reeling. You're panicking at the loss, eyes shooting wide as he firmly presses into you. "Or maybe," You felt the heat of his cock pressed against you, "how about a boundary that ensures every day starts with you under me like this?" Satoru's voice was husky, almost choked with his own arousal as he maintained that exasperatingly slow grind, each movement calculated to keep you right on the edge.

You couldn't muster a response, your mind was too clouded with the intoxicating blend of pleasure and frustration, gripping at him to keep going. His smirk was audible in his voice as he continued. "Hmm, not enough? What about...we never sleep apart, huh? Always tangled up like this—sounds perfect, right, wifey? Or do you prefer senpai?"

You felt yourself clench around nothing as you let out a string of needy huffs, eyes drunken, intoxicated on his heat. "And I think," he paused, his breath against your ear, "we should always say goodnight like this...no...we should always say goodnight with me deep inside this pretty pussy, claiming you as mine over and over. No more goodnights through phone screens, just this—"

One hand trails down between your legs, drifting across your sorely sensitive skin, before reaching the warmth beneath your shorts. You feel yourself buck up, but his grip on your other thigh has you restrained. He glides his large fingers along the edges, before dipping into under the fabric, finding his salvation, immediately. "Ahh-shit, you're soaked, baby," His voice was dense with pleasure, a hint of awe, a mix of wonder and satisfaction.

"Do these boundaries work for you?" he teased, fully aware that you were beyond the point of coherent speech, your responses physical, instinctive—your body arching towards him, desperately seeking to close the gap he controlled so teasingly.

His laughter, low and satisfied, resonated through the charged air between you, feeling as tangible as another stroke of his fingers. "I’ll take that as a yes," he murmured before finally relenting to the desperate pace your body craved, driving his fingers into you with a fervor that wiped all thoughts but his name from your mind.

Stretching, and so so thick, yet you so desperately craved for his fingers to curl into your sweet spot, your mewls and moans saturating the air, the debauched sounds from your leaky cunt dragging his eyes to watch as your juices coated his hand.

His eyes were locked on your squirming, messy form. Noticing every movement, learning and adapting his thrust to the motions that drew the most from you. Once he hit that sweet spot, you were out.

To him—this was a dream. A fantasy he'd always had, way back when he first met you.

Now you were soaking your shorts, so he did what any good husband would do and took them off of you. He marveled at the sight of your pretty cunt, glistening, slick pooling from you at a rapid pace. Calling to him. You looked so fucking tasty.

But he wanted more. So much more.

He wanted to fill his pretty little wife, full. Withdrawing his fingers (earning him a small growl from you), he pressed his hips forward, the fabric of his clothes barely containing him as he rubbed against you, his need clear and urgent. His fingers, dipping into his mouth, your taste dissolving onto his tongue, he moaned—"Baby, can I fill you up?" begging, voice guttural, raw, groveling, as he pulled himself free from the confines of his pants, stroking himself with a single hand. You strained to look at him, your legs blocking your view, but when you caught sight of it you nearly drooled. His plea was nothing short of a godsend at this moment, everything you were wanting and more, and that cock looked more than fucking delicious. Big and thick enough to rock your shit.

"Please, please I want more,—ngh—'

He lined himself up at your entrance, poking his fat tip an inch past your slit. The stretch was already a bit much, you really hadn't gotten much action, recently. Toys never cut it.

And just that tip had Satoru's mouth dropping open as he slid himself further, watching the magic act that was his disappearing cock into your tight heat. You deliriously blubbered incomprehensible sounds, begging to be filled, but he seemed so happy with taking his sweet time, savoring every second—every inch.

Once you were completely filled, he stilled for a moment, wearing you like a little cockwarmer, the stretch made you feral as you continue clawing his forearms, pathetically, words dripping from your lips frantically asking bawling at him to go faster.

"Ah, you take me so well." He hissed out, starring down at you with an almost obsessive gaze. "Gimme a second, baby, I needa minute, shit-s'feels sooooo good." He slouches into you, body shaky.

Your breathing is unsteady as he presses into the back of your cervix, poking through your belly. "Ah y'know, you're my first baby, saved myself all for you. All for this moment—" His words slewed together in a stupor, bucking slightly into you. Your eyes widen as you're about to comment, but he stops you with one quick ram of his hips, your head lolling back, mouth dangling open. The dude's fucking huge, hot as all hell, and you're the one who popped his cherry?

You feed into each other as he picks up his pace, clinging to you like a second skin, hips ramming into you with a speed that seemed unreal. Each thrust splitting you open like the very first, you just couldn't get used to him. He moans loudly into your ear, breathing becoming more and more labored as he reaches down to play with your clit.

"A-Ah shit—fuck, I'm gonna cum," his voice frustrated, wanting to last all night with you, but your tight cunt deemed otherwise. His fingers dug deeper into your skin, large welts already forming, "shit-shit, aah fuuuuckk-" spilling his load deep inside your womb, head pulled back, blissed out, twitching into you.

You can't help the way your mind stills, he pumped you full—theres so much, that his gooey cum spills out around the edges, trailing down between your crack, "aah shit baby." He seemed embarrassed, a flushed look on his face as he looked away and back shyly.

He thrust back in, his eyes locked on the way his cum oozed out around him, letting out his own whine. Your breathing stutters when he pushed back inside, your abused cervix aching. You hadn't cum, but damn were you close, and damn if you weren't sore. He rubs your nub again, feeling you clench around him, letting out a hiss, clearly overstimulated.

"You're losin' so much, wifey, how're you ever gonna be full when you're so wasteful," his eyes never leave your cunt, as he swirls his thumb over your clit, as you're left clawing to get away from him, the obsessed focus on your clit just too much. But you're still pinned. And he's still not done yet.

"S'ok baby, 'll give you more, yea?" He's mumbling the words, lost in the meal spread out in front of him. "Want you to cum all over my cock this time. Think you can do that for me?" He doesn't wait for a response as he's hardening up once again, and you think his stamina is fucking impeccable. His own words, nasty for a beginner, but only serving to egg him on.

Once again he's picking back the brutal pace, his cum mixing with the thin pool of your syrupy slick, the loud squelches back in full force. He's lost again, his head buried in your neck now, leaving large dark purple hickies, a hand clenching that back of your neck, devouring you like a fucking rotisserie chicken. You do him one better, your claws sinking deep into his back, each thrust blanking your mind as his fingers continue at your clit.

He angles his dick upwards—just slightly, grazing that upper spot that has you seeing stars, you're pants come out frantic now, pussy clamping, so so close to release. "Cum for me baby? Gonna coat this cock? Mark me up, baby—mark up your husband—" His words have you finishing, an electric current zapping through you, leaving you lit like a live wire. His fingers are punishing, a reminder of his words, his words a reminder of your place in his life, and you find yourself over-satiated.

Squirming to get him to stop, then begging when it he ignored it. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, his thrusts seeking his second release into your tight little pussy, your little begs only speeding him up as he let out another guttural moan, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, no doubt breaking skin. His cum, hot, burning—as you gushed around him, your pussy pulsating at every movement. His heaving never let up as he kept himself buried deep inside of you.

"Fuck, I love you so much."

come home

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Competing With Gods

Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader, Apollo x uninterested!Reader

Request: Hi could you write luke castellan x reader, where Luke gets jealous of a guy who tries with y/n? How would he react if y/n is at the game? Thank you

Summary: When Apollo is sent to camp as a punishment, he sets his sights on Luke's girlfriend.

Warning: Fighting, jealousy, making out, the slightest allusions to/implied smut, Apollo being a dick

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

A/N So instead of another camper or whatever, I’m making the other guy Apollo.

Apollo crashed into the ground of Camp Half-Blood. Right in the middle of all the cabins. Great. He briefly cursed Zeus for this. He was being punished for flirting with a nymph the big guy was interested in. And when Apollo had told his father to maybe focus on his wife, Zeus banished him to Camp Half-Blood for a few weeks as a “warning.”

The Half-Bloods began to peek out of their cabins but one girl was already rushing over. Her hair fell over her shoulder so nicely as she kneeled over him. Okay, maybe camp wouldn’t be so bad. She gave him a concerned look. “Are you alright?”

“Now that you’re here,” he immediately started flirting. He enjoyed the way she immediately became flustered and jumped to his feet. She looked up at him in bewilderment. She saw him fall. She wasn’t a daughter of Apollo but he should have been suffering from at least a few broken bones. “I’m Apollo,” he clarified with a proud smirk. By now all the other campers within the vicinity were near enough to hear and kneeled. The girl did too, kneeling with a lowered head. He reached out a hand to her. She took it hesitantly, standing up. “Who are you, gorgeous?”

She became further embarrassed. How do I bring up Luke? She briefly wondered. “Y/N. Daughter of Aphrodite.”

“I should have known,” the god flirted. “What with those mesmerizing eyes.”

“Lord Apollo,” a voice interrupted him. He turned, finding Chiron trotting over. “My apologies, I was just notified of your arrival.”

“No worries,” the god smiled. The nice thing about not being around gods is that you get called things like Lord.

“Please,” Chiron began, gesturing over to a big house, “let me show you around. Your father has a few requests for you whilst here.”

“Of course he does,” he rolled his eyes. He turned back to the girl. “I’ll see you around, gorgeous,” he winked.

As he left all the campers were left in shock. Especially Y/N. And even more so, her boyfriend. Luke went up to her, finding her still in astonishment. “Sooo… that was weird,” he began, trying to not show his jealousy.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Was Apollo just flirting with me?”

“Yes!” Silena gushed as she ran up to her best friend/half-sister. “Oh my gods, a god is interested in you!” She then seemed to notice Luke and remember their relationship. “Oh- uh. Sorry, Luke.”

He just gave her a tight lipped smile.

“Oh my gods, what am I gonna do?” Y/N asked, clearly stressed out.

Luke shrugged, again trying not to show his jealousy. “Not much you can do. It’s not like you can tell him to leave you alone.”

“If you really don’t want him then you can tell him you have a boyfriend. And a sister,” Silena suggested with a raised eyebrow.

Her sister laughed. “I was trying to think of a way to mention Luke. And Silena, you’re 16.”

“He looks 18!” she insisted.

“Even if he was actually 18 I’d say he’s too old for you. Come on, the bathroom still needs to be cleaned after Drew decided she wanted to dye her hair black.”

“Yeah well, she’s crying now because she wants to be blonde again,” Silena explained as the sisters walked back to their cabin.

Feeling mildly ignored, Luke yelled after them. “I’ll see you at dinner!”

Remembering her boyfriend, Y/N ran back to him, pressing a peck on her lips. “Sorry. I’ll see you later.” He watched her go, trying to not think about it too much. She never forgot to kiss him goodbye but he tried to chalk it up to the fact that she was shocked by Apollo’s appearance.

~

That evening at dinner everyone had noticed the “new camper” sitting at the Apollo table looking very unhappy. Chiron stood up and called everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we have a very honored guest staying with us for a while. Lord Zeus had requested that we treat him as we would any other camper.” As he finished he gave us all a long, hard look as if to say, “Don’t get yourself killed when his immortality is restored.”

Once dinner finished, everyone was at the bonfire. Luke sat on the ground, his back resting up against a log. His girlfriend was leaning up against his shoulder, her legs over his lap. His free arm would occasionally swipe the mosquitos away from her with his other arm supporting her weight. They were talking to a few other campers when Luke let his gaze fall onto Apollo. Some campers, mostly girls from Aphrodite, sat around the god, looking at him with cartoon hearts in their eyes. He knew for a fact Y/N had told them to stay away as a. they were all minors and b. he was a god and she didn’t want to deal with their broken hearts.

When Apollo’s gaze fell on the girl in his lap, Luke tightened his grip protectively. He knew it was ridiculous. Y/N would never cheat on him and he knew she’d slap any guy who tried anything, immortal deity or not. But he couldn’t help but be worried. Hell, he had nearly punched an Ares camper last year and that kid wasn’t a god. And Apollo was known for his womanizing ways.

He tried to shake it off and go back to his conversation but his brain was still stuck on Apollo. “Hey,” he whispered so softly that only the girl in his lap could hear. She turned and he immediately kissed her. She kissed him back briefly but pulled away, not a huge fan of PDA especially in front of the entire camp. But Luke persisted, gently holding her cheek and kissing her deeply.

When she finally pulled away for breath she looked at him quizzically. “What was that for?”

He smiled and shrugged. “What? I can’t kiss my girlfriend?” She just smiled, pushing his head away jokingly before going back to her conversation. But he was looking at Apollo again, hoping the god saw that kiss. If he did, he was playing it off.

Later that night, when the fire was extinguished and he had kissed the Aphrodite counselor goodnight several times, Luke was trying to sleep. Keyword: trying. Normally the several snores or creeks of the Hermes cabin didn’t bother him, but he was so on edge thinking about Apollo’s flirting, that every noise jolted him awake. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Apollo had immediately begun to flirt with Y/N and how she had seemed to forget him for a moment.

Frustrated, Luke crept out of bed. As he opened the cabin door, he checked for harpies keeping watch but found none. So he went to the Aphrodite cabin, knocking on the window right above Y/N’s bed. It took a few tries but eventually, she poked her head up, gesturing to shut up and that she’d be out in a minute.

So Luke waited until she came around the side. “What?” she asked, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. But her hair was already falling back to the way its usual flawless look, courtesy of being Aphrodite’s daughter.

“I just wanted to see you,” Luke smiled sheepishly. And make sure Apollo isn’t sniffing around. He realized he didn’t have a reason to be out here that didn’t stem from insane jealousy. She looked mildly annoyed at that so he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed her. If he couldn’t get rid of Apollo, he could completely occupy her mind. So he did the only thing he could think of. He was pushing her up against the side of the cabin, one hand on her jaw, the other around her waist.

She had no clue where this came from but she gave in nonetheless. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.

After a few minutes of making out, she finally managed to push him away enough to get a deep breath in. “What was that for?” she asked, both of them still gasping for air.

Luke smiled, grabbing her by the hips to pull her closer. “‘Cause I love you.” He pressed the lightest kiss to her nose before stepping away abruptly. “Night, see you in the morning.” And with that, he walked away the happiest demigod in all of camp.

The daughter of Aphrodite still just stood there, completely taken off guard. The only thing that snapped her out of her daze was the faint caw of a harpy, making her quickly scramble inside. Luke ended up getting his wish as that night, the only thing on her mind was that kiss.

~

The next day was Capture the Flag day. When Chiron announced it at dinner that night, everyone lost their minds. It was Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, and Poseidon vs. Ares, Apollo, Demeter, and Dionysus.

As the couple was walking over to their cabins to get their armor, Apollo caught up with them. “See you out there, Y/N,” he said as he passed with a wink.

“S-see yah?” she called back hesitantly.

Luke was frustrated but at least she didn’t seem flattered by his flirtations. Now she was just confused.

Once they grabbed their chest plates, then went back to the creek where they’d be starting the games. As Luke put his on, she was struggling to get hers tightened. “Hold on, I’ll help you in a sec,” he said, finishing strapping his onto his body.

“I got it,” a voice interrupted. Apollo seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was standing in front of Y/N, tightening the strap.

“Hey!” Luke yelled without thinking.

Apollo held up one hand in surrender, the other still on her shoulder. “Chill man, I’m just helping.” Luke didn’t say anything else as Apollo walked away with a slight smirk.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, stepping closer to him. “What was that about?”

Luke gritted his teeth. “Nothing. C’mon, I need to assign everyone and talk strategy.” He took her hand gently, reminding himself to not let his anger get the better of him. He headed over, gathering the team. “Alright, Cabins 6, 3, and 11 will be offense. Cabins 9, 10, and 12 will be defense. Except for Y/N, you’re with me. Beckendorf, you’ll also be offense.” He pointed out a few Athena and Hermes campers, directing them to defense as well.

After a few minutes, the conch blew and everyone was in their places. The couple quickly jumped over the creek, slipping through the Apollo cabin’s defenses. They had done this so many times, their routine was well practiced. They ran through the woods, searching for any opposing defense.

The other teams had learned that Y/N and Luke always worked as a pair so they started also pairing defensive players. That is when Hermes and Aphrodite were on the same side. If they weren’t, Capture the Flag could go on for hours since they knew all of each others’ tricks.

They continued on, occasionally making quick work of disarming opposing campers until they reached the flag. It was only guarded by one person. Apollo. Clarisse must have figured that everyone else would be too afraid to offend a god. But Luke was honestly looking for this opportunity.

So while Y/N fell back, hesitating, Luke was jumping at the god. Apollo blocked him with a sword but he was clearly not very good with it. Archery had been banned since before Luke got to camp. Even though the arrows were enchanted not to kill, someone had been blinded so Chiron banned them forever. He didn’t even make an exception for the god of archery.

While Luke fought Apollo, Y/N was grabbing the flag. “Luke!” she yelled, waving the flag. She then took off, heading for their territory. Because of Apollo’s inexperience with the sword, Luke was easily beating him. After a few slashes on the god’s arms, legs, and even face—nothing major, they were honestly just cuts a band aid could fix—Luke was disarming him. He didn’t have to be as brutal as he was or knock him over but he did, throwing the god’s sword far away before following after Y/N.

Luke was still a few feet behind her when she hopped over the creek into safety. He watched proudly as she ripped the helmet off her head and held the flag up triumphantly. The members of their team around her cheered triumphantly as the conch blew and their team was announced the winners.

Luke was still in enemy territory, watching her have her moment when Apollo showed up. “She’s really something,” the god announced, his smile focused on her.

“Yeah, my girlfriend really is incredible,” Luke said pointedly.

The god was still smiling. “I know she’s your girlfriend. I saw you making out with her last night.”

“What were you doing out at two a.m.?”

The god looked even more smug, his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t have to answer to you. But if you must know, I had the same idea as you but you got there first.” Luke finally looked at him, rage once again filling his body. So he wasn’t paranoid. “How long have you been together?”

Luke was confused but answered nonetheless. “Uh three years,” he answered suspiciously.

“Aw, three years down the drain. I’m sorry in advance,” the god said in exaggerated regret.

Luke tried not to let his fury show. This is why he hated gods. They thought they could do whatever they wanted without regard for mortals. “Well, she loves me. At night she swears we were made for each other,” he said, recalling sweaty nights during the school year when every other Aphrodite kid was home. And how they’d make breathless promises of eternity.

Apollo gave him an almost pitiful look. “I’m sorry about your relationship but you can’t actually believe she’ll pick you when she could have a literal god?” he gestured to himself arrogantly.

Now it was Luke’s turn to gloat. He just shrugged, “I’m the one she calls for. She doesn’t call for the gods like most others would. She only ever says my name.”

Apollo was a little taken aback by the kid’s boldness. “Well, that’s the nice thing about being a god. I can make anyone mine.” And with that Apollo headed over to the capture the flag winner of the night. It took everything in him not to race up to her but he kept his composure. She’d have to reject him on her own, he couldn’t keep running defense.

He watched in surprised satisfaction as Apollo reached her. He congratulated her before pulling her into a hug. His arms were around her waist and creeping kind of low but Luke once again kept his resolve. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she pulled away quickly, pointing over at him. What was she saying? Was she praising him for fighting the god? Or telling him that she had a boyfriend?

Apollo tried to hug her again but she ducked under his arm, running over to him. He immediately broke out into a smile. Her arms were opened to hug him but he just grabbed her face to kiss her instead. He turned her towards the tree he had been leaning on, pressing her up against it again. He only pulled away slightly to whisper a congratulations but then their lips were connected again. When he finally pulled away, he threw an arm around her shoulder, shooting a look to the god before heading off to their celebration.

That night as they were celebrating, Luke was glued to Y/N’s side. It wasn’t until some of the other Hermes boys needed help getting their illegal video game working again that Luke left her side. “I’ll be back,” he promised her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

As soon as Luke was gone, Apollo was swooping in. “Congratulations again,” he said, handing her a drink.

“Thanks,” she smiled nervously, taking the drink. “How are the cuts?”

Apollo shrugged. “They sting more than I would’ve thought but they’re fine. Your boyfriend’s a hell of a fighter.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, relieved that he was acknowledging she had a boyfriend.

“I mean, he’s good for a mortal. He’s certainly no god,” Apollo flirted.

“Well, none of us are. Present company excluded,” she laughed nervously, gesturing to him.

Apollo casually threw an arm around her shoulder. “There’s other things we’re better at,” he said, letting the implication hang in the air. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Have you ever been with a god, Y/N?”

She was immediately pulling out of his grasp. “I- uh… um no. I’m flattered but…” She had no clue what to say. She couldn’t just say no to Apollo. If this were any other man she’d throw her drink in his face but this was a god.

She didn’t have to say anything because Luke had seen the whole thing. As he came back he saw Apollo throw his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder and subsequently watched her back away quickly. “I told you she loves me,” he smirked before tugging her away. She gratefully pressed herself into his body.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, careful that Apollo couldn’t hear.

“Hey, you don’t have to thank me. This is kind of my job as your boyfriend.”

“Still, you basically told him to back off. Kind of bold to deny a god.”

“Yeah, well,” he began, brushing a hair back from her face, “if he smites me we’ll just have to make up for the lost time in Elysium.” She giggled, hugging him closer as they headed off to bed.

Masterlist

[peppermint-toads]

you were so sick and tired of being pregnant. you were always so hot, tired, sore.

your due date was three days ago. you were moping and miserable. your ob didn’t want to induce for whatever fucking reason. you begged her to tell you what you could do to get this fucking baby out of you already.

her suggestion took really surprised you.

simon made sure to always be at all of your appointments, even if you assured him that some of them were complete wastes of time.

you were just so, so glad he couldn’t make it to this one because your ob had essentially suggested you go home and get boned.

you never had to expressly ask simon to fuck you. never. he just knew or he was the one to initiate it.

your face was already red as you walked into your apartment. simon was in the kitchen starting dinner (bless him).

“thought i’d make something spicy. get things moving along, you know.”

you would’ve smiled at the thought of him researching foods that induced labor if you weren’t so worked up.

you set your keys and purse down.

“how was the appointment, love? sorry i couldn’t make it this go ‘round.”

again, your heart melted at how soft of a person simon managed to become.

“um, actually, simon—”

he halted immediately, rounding the kitchen island to place a hand on your stomach.

“what? is everything okay?”

god you can do this. deep breath.

“my ob said that, to help the baby, we should uhm. y’know.”

your gaze subconsciously drifted down towards the bulge in his pants that was there even though he was soft.

you looked back up at him and could see that it hadn’t clicked. you sighed again.

“she said if we fuck the baby might come sooner.”

it was simon’s turn to nearly choke. he nodded, slightly shocked by your bluntness. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like seeing you squirm as you forced yourself to blurt it out.

“okay,” he said decidedly. easy peasy. “if she suggested it, that means it’s safe, right?”

you nodded.

and that was that. he had you naked and rolling your hips on top of him within ten minutes. he helped you grind on his length just right, not worried about his pleasure at all.

your cheeks were all rosy and one of simon’s hands stayed firmly planted on your soft bump.

he made damn sure you came at least three times around him.

“that’s it, mama, such a good girl for me. you’re gonna have my baby, yeah? want me to get you pregnant all over again?”

you felt so loose and warm as he corralled you into the shower, making sure you were nice and clean before he wrapped you in your fuzzy robe and plopped you on the couch.

“curry will be done soon. hope you’re hungry.”

you went into labor the next morning.