#i like them a completely normal amount i promise

[shadowtraveled]

i know i’m constantly chewing drywall over shadowgast and it is because there’s so much to drive me insane there and i’m extremely fond of them and their batshit fire/mirror dynamic but if i even Think about essek’s induction to the mighty nein or his feelings toward and friendship with them i will lose my fucking mind

[moonlitleafs]

Me after 💃🏽🕺🏽👯‍♀️🕺🏽👯‍♀️🤜🏽🗣️🗣️💃🏽🕺🏽‼️⁉️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️👯‍♀️💃🏽💃🏽 ing around my room: I am so normal about these characters. I swear

[seungisms]

( skz reaction ) condom or no condom .ᐟ 

🖇️📂 who in skz likes to fuck with or without a condom

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, public sex, slight breeding kink with chan cause grrrr, humiliation kink, overstimulation, small size kink with seungmin (his dick is too big for you cause i said so) creampies 🗣️🗣️🗣️ note: got super carried away and this is kinda dog but let’s gooooo

방찬. BANG CHAN

condom. he already has seven other kids he doesn’t need one more. mainly uses them cause he can’t be trusted when he swears he’ll pull out and cum on your stomach or tits instead. the faster his orgasm is to approaching the less he’s able to think about what he’s actually doing, every single coherent voice inside of him screaming for him to pull out is ignored as his cock fucks into you deep and sloppy - the promise of finally filling you up until his cum is spilling out past your little hole just makes it far too appealing to stay buried inside of your tight pussy, determined to leave you a sticky used mess once he’s done. hates himself for it but his breeding kink is dangerous, this man has to battle himself everyday to not fuck you until you’re full and pregnant, so convincing him to ditch the condoms will take some work. beg cutely enough and he’ll give in. swears he’s only doing it to shut you up but the second he sinks his bare cock into you he’s losing every lousy ounce of self-control he might’ve had, mouth drying up and eyes trained on the way your cunt struggles to take him. and he can feel every single nook and cranny of your plush cunt in ways the condom just doesn’t allow and he just can’t find it in himself to rid himself of the pleasure of finally filling you up the way you so desperately crave.  he can normally hold his orgasm out for a few good rounds, ensuring you’re completely fucked out when he finally does cum - but the first time you go without protection he’s busting inside of you within minutes. always buys you the morning after pill though and apologises for cumming inside of you, trying to ignore how good it felt to fuck your pretty pussy with no barrier.

리노. LEE MINHO 

no condom. when he cums, he cums hard. so wearing a condom just makes no sense to him and he’ll just end up ripping it off mid fuck, filling you up over and over until it’s leaking out of you, cussing under his breath that he should’ve fucked that stupid thought out of you for even suggesting to wear one in the first place. prefers having you on some type of brith control instead cause with the amount of cum this guys feeds into your pussy a condom isn’t gonna do shit. he’ll wear them when you first start dating just cause he wants to make sure you feel safe and comfortable with him but the second he catches wind you like it RAW?? he’s taking a lighter to every single condom he’s ever owned, in the trash, never to be seen again. and anytime you try to suggest using them again he’ll act so fucking offended, knowing fine rightly how much you love receiving the loads of cum he gives your greedy little pussy to even humour the idea. far too addicted to the feeling of filling you up over and over until your pussy is left all creamy and sticky and you’re crying that you can’t take anymore to ever think about going back, especially not when he’s felt the addicting press of your cunt smothering his dick and milking him for all he’s got, he couldn’t even fathom the thought of wearing them again.

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

both. he’ll always try to remember one but gets such a bad case of pussy tunnel vision that most of the time he’ll forget about the stash he keeps in his bedside drawer. tries to keep one on him cause the amount of times you’ve found yourself getting fucked in some random empty supply cupboard or bent over his studio desk have been too many to count cause this man can’t keep his dick in his pants for the life of him, only realising he doesn’t have one when it’s far too late and he’s already painted your pretty pussy sticky with his cum. he’s far too impatient and just can’t ignore the feeling of needing to get his dick wet no matter how hard he tries, somehow always manages to convince you to let him fuck you raw when he doesn’t have a condom, swearing he’ll pull out but he wasn’t prepared for how much he’d love filling your little cunt up again and again until you just can’t take anymore of him. hates the part of him that gets off on seeing you stained and dripping in cum, and might even start telling you he ‘forgot’ to buy more while he was at the store - just to have the sight of your cute cunt all used and spilling over marked into his brain. 

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN

no condom. nothing gets him off like fucking you with no condom. he loves the risk of it all and the fact that he can turn you into a pretty mess with just a few pumps of his dick. loves fucking you raw so much that he’ll have videos saved on his phone of his cock stretching you out - soft praises of, ‘taking me so well angel,’ hardly audible over the sloppy sounds of his cock pumping into your pussy. needs to be as close to you as humanly possible so wrapping a piece of rubber around his dick to devoid himself of the heavenly feeling of your cunt suffocating around him just makes no sense. completely loses himself in the heat of your pussy, locks his jaw and rests his forehead on your shoulder when he’s fucking into you - just so he doesn’t lose all sense of sanity just from the mere feeling of your cunt milking him for all he’s got, and he’s prepared to give you it all. in the early stages of your relationship he’ll try to at least pull out for your sake, but the more he did the more he noticed your thighs locking around his hips to keep his dick firmly planted inside of you, forcing him to empty his loads into your greedy cunt and he just has to thank whatever god there is out there for blessing him with a girl that’s as eager for his cum much as you are. 

한. HAN JISUNG

condom but he forgets half the time. jisung gets so pussy drunk so quickly that protection will be the last thing on his mind, especially when he gets the chance to finally bury himself deep into his favourite place - your pussy. he likes the idea of being safe and protected but his hunger for your pretty little cunt to be wrapped around his cock any chance he can get just stands in the way of actually doing so. it’ll get to the point where you’ll have to carry them instead cause this man is prepared to fuck you nearly everywhere you go, doesn’t matter if you’re in public or not, he’s gonna beg to have your sweet walls wrapping around him near daily. if you actually do make him wear them it won’t last for long, he’ll whine and beg and near damn cry cause it’s just not the same :( and you have him so pussy spoiled that he might actually get blue balled all thanks to the rubber separating you both, might even pull out and take it off just when he’s fucked you dumb enough that you won’t notice, slipping back in and near sobbing the second your pussy swallows him up again, every raw twitch and spasm making his dick swell up even more. likes making a mess of you far too much to commit to condoms so they’ll become an increasingly rare occurrence in your relationship. 

필릭스. LEE FELIX 

condom. as much as he wants to he’s just far too paranoid about accidentally knocking you up to actually fuck you raw. also likes knowing you feel comfortable during sex and as appealing as thought of making your pussy all creamy with his cum is, he’d be a worried mess afterwards. makes sure he always has one in his wallet, cause with the amount you beg this man for his dick he’d rather be safe than sorry. even when you’re being all needy and he’s teased you to a state of being completely fucked out, whining about how much you need him to fuck you when the heavy weight of his cock bumping against your clit just isn’t enough - he’ll still find the will to ignore the painful swell of his dick to pull away and go grab a condom, chuckling and kissing away the cute pout of disappointment that sits on your lips when your hope of having him fuck you raw was once again shattered. tells you to stop being so goddamn ungrateful and take what he gives you :( with or without a condom this man KNOWS how to work his dick so he’ll fuck you stupid no matter what. the further you get into your relationship the more willing he’d be to finally ditch the condoms, but the second he slips into you with no rubber for the first time is the second he loses every ounce of control - fucking into you like an animal and suddenly your sweet, doting felix is gone and is now fucking you deeper and harder than he ever has before, wondering how he’s went all this time without the feeling of fucking you raw. 

승민. KIM SEUNGMIN 

no condom. this man will laugh straight in your face if you ever try to make him wear one. he knows fine rightly how greedy you are for his cum so he won’t take you seriously at all, fully arguing that a pussy as cute as yours shouldn’t be left all empty and sad without a cock in it and would look much, much prettier if it was dripping in cum. and he’s more than happy to be the one covering your little cunt in it. anytime you try to suggest using a condom he’ll make sure you regret it, forcing you to sit on his dick and fuck yourself over and over until that stupid thought was completely rid out of your pretty little head - pumping load after load into your pussy until it’s left all messy and sticky and begging for a break. loves reminding you how much you’d miss the feeling of his cock filling you up if he actually used one and deep down you hate that he’s right. sometimes he gets a little carried away cause the sight of you covered in his cum just goes straight to his dick, likes fucking you in public and making you walk around after with his cum dribbling down your thighs, knowing if you bent over just a little everyone around would get an eyeful of your cute ass painted in it peaking out from under your tiny skirt. and he’ll just have to fuck another load into you later that night from the thought alone. his cock is too big for you, and he gets such a nasty kick out of this fact, watching the way his cum from earlier that day trickles out of your pussy when he’s fucking you - only for him to push it back in with his cock and force you to take even more of it. loves seeing his cum drip to of your used cunt when he’s done and no amount of condoms is gonna take that away from him. 

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

condom, but he’s easily persuaded to ditch it. jeongin is just there for a good time and as long as he gets his dick wet he doesn’t really care. he’ll always have one in his wallet just in case but the second he gets a taste of your pretty pussy he’s only able to think with his cock and completely forgets the concept of protection. this man needs you almost every hour of the day and most of the of the time wrapping a condom on his dick is the last thing on his mind, he’d much rather it be your pussy instead. can’t think straight when he’s turned on and the only fix is you. you’ll literally have to pry him off you when he’s this eager, lips chasing after you with a small whine of protest when you pull away from him in the backseat of the company car he’s somehow managed to squeeze you into after the rest of the boys and managers were busy setting up for rehearsal, trying to get him to focus long enough to grab a condom but he’s just too busy rubbing the fat head of his cock into your cunt. he’ll be so pouty when you stop him again, ‘forgetting something jeongin?’ and he’s just like, ‘uhhh, no? i remembered to turn my computer off this time,’ and just gets right back into trying to stick his dick into you finally. only realises he forgot a condom when he’s already fucked a load into you, letting out a small sigh of relief once he pulls his softening cock from your used pussy, watching the way his cum follows and dribbles out past your folds. but he can’t find it in himself to care cause you’ve never looked prettier. always helps you clean up after though :( 

© seungisms - all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated. 

[madamechrissy]

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much mutual pining and longing, not sharing feelings. This chap- kissing, fingering, masturbation, lots of jealousyy, they're idiots in love lol, teasing, TENSION, oral (f recieving) Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad. Three parts- WC this Part- 7.6k

Songs for this - Birds of a Feather // Nonsense // Suffocate

Ty for all the love on part one!?!? I hope you all enjoy this part as well! We got one more after this <3 Comments and reblogs so appreciated always!

<<<Part One - Masterlist - Final Part>>>

Part Two

One month of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend.

“I’m nervous about this meeting, Satoru. Are you sure I’ll do alright?” You ask softly, as you both head to the elevator, a meeting that you know Satoru has been dreading himself, with the higher ups his dad usually deals with.

“You’ll do just fine, let me do the talking, you can just look all pretty.” He takes your hand as you all get into the elevator, squeezing it warmly, and you’re dying at how good that hand feels, and how good he feels, his strong arm brushing against you as you both watch the elevator doors shut.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“You could never. You’ve been a perfect wife this month, I promise.” His sweet grin, just a little crooked melts you, as you exhale in relief. “I’m getting a lot done with this, I swear… I know you probably wanna get back to normal life.”

The hurt in his words immediately makes you pull back, and Satoru curses himself, taking your hand again, as you two ride up the floors, but you pull away, shaking your head. “Are you so eager for me to go?” Your voice is quiet, trying not to reveal what that makes you feel like fully.

“What!? No, not at all. I meant… if you wanted to.” Satoru’s heart breaks when he sees your dewy eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way, I meant it may not take a year, if you wanted to…”

“I’m glad it’s helping, really.” You give him a small little smile, and Satoru can barely concentrate on what he’s here for, when he wants to wrap you in his arms, to kiss you fully, not just pecks for appearances.

And god those kisses to prove you’re together make the lines blur, makes everything so confusing and jumbled for him. He’s having so much trouble remembering that it’s for show, when you all watch movies at night still, when you both have dinner together, when you’re washing dishes side by side. When you’re having coffee on his balcony in the morning.

The one thing that keeps it ‘fake’ is the separate rooms, but the amount of times Satoru has played with himself in the room next to yours has gotten insane, the number of showers he has to take so he hopes you won’t hear him. Lately, he’s backed off just a bit, for his own sanity, so it hurts less when this is over.

“Toru, wanna watch the show tonight?” You ask, wearing one of his big tee shirts, it swamps you completely, tempting him to no end, thinking of slipping it up just so…

Shit.

“Nah, sorry not tonight. I’ve got work to do.” He says, hating the little down turn of your lips.

“How late, I can wait!”

“Um… yeah I wouldn’t wait up.” You blink then, wondering have you gotten too comfortable with him? Have you been acting too much like a wife at home? You can’t help but enjoy him, enjoy your time together, are you overwhelming him with it all?

“Oh. Um, okay. Good night, then.” You smile sadly, aching to kiss him good night, knowing you shouldn’t want it, knowing you shouldn’t be desiring him right next to you, snuggling on that couch. God you’d love him in your bed even, holding you so close against him.

“Good night, sweets.” He murmurs, softly, not wanting you to think that you were the problem, no the problem is him.

He can’t stop picturing how every corner and nook in his huge home will be so very empty when you’re gone.

“You haven’t done anything wrong, not one thing, I swear you’re playing this perfectly. And I really appreciate you, yeah?” He says, but it’s not what you want to hear, because you’re not playing, not really, it’s just too fucking easy.

“Yeah, we got this.” You kiss his cheek softly, the friendly way you used to, as you all walk through the sliding doors where everyone is, all old men aside from a couple younger people scattered in seats in a row.

You tense, so he squeezes your hand, smiling at you, an upturn to pink lips as a room full of old money assesses you both, trying to reassure you. “Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, please have a seat.”

You nervously sit next to Satoru across from them now, your legs crossing as he casually leans back, one arm around the back of your seat, an ankle crossed over his knee, sunglasses right on his face. He’s so at ease, or so it seems, you are certainly learning more and more that Satoru tends to hide much of his anxiety with cracking jokes and sarcasm.

“Ah, the oldies, how goes it?”

“Ahem, oldies?” A blonde man raises a brow, and Satoru scoffs.

“You might as well be, Zenin. Old ass mentality.”

“Satoru, how is your father?” Asks an older man from another high company that works with the Gojos, Mr. Gakuganji.

“Ya really hoping he pulls through hmm? Even if so, he’s already appointed me, so don’t get too excited.” Satoru has an easy grin, fingertips brushing against your bare arm, leaning closer to you. “You’ve all met the wife?”

“Not all of us.” A pretty woman with long blue braids smiles at you. “Heard of her though, hello Mrs. Gojo. Mei Mei. Apparently so old.”

“Hello Mei Mei.” You greet with a small smile, looking at them all. “It’s going to be a pleasure to work with you all, I am sure.”

“Isn’t she just charming?” Mr. Naoya Zenin says, you feel Gojo’s fingers tighten in response.

“She is lovely.” Mei agrees, predatory smiles on both of their lips.

“Enough with the greetings, Gojo, you've made a lot of changes to this company in a quick manner.” Now Yaga, a tall imposing man that owns much of the shares of the company, speaks.

“Sure have, Yaga. Aw, mad you all got pay cuts? Poor things. Don’t worry, gave your extra to the employees.” Gojo says with a big white grin, earning the glares of everyone in the room.

“You’re not some Robin Hood.” An older man of the Kamo family says, raising a brow at Gojo, who chuckles.

“No, sure am not, I’m still rich and so are you all, just a little more evened out, wouldn’t you say, sweetheart?” He looks to you, tilting down his glasses, and you take a breath, putting a hand on his thigh, silently supporting him.

“Employees are going to work harder and stay longer with better pay and better conditions, and cutting just a bit off the top accomplishes that.” You say, voice strong and clear as a bell, making Satoru so proud he can’t stand it, smiling big at you as the room collectively grumbles.

“You’re not the only one with interest in this company. What does your father think of this?” One of the older men asks.

“It’s my company already, it’s about to be official soon. So don’t worry.” Satoru says with ease. “Also, my wife was talking.”

“Your wife is certainly… hmm, very pretty, but a commoner.” Naoya says, earning Gojo standing up, chair screeching back.

“The fuck you say!?”

“Satoru…” You lean forward, touching his arm, looking at his furious stance as the room shifts.

“How is she a commoner? You’d be lucky to lick the ground she fucking walks on ya know that?”

“She’s clearly not a commoner, but… she’s not “rich" is what he means. She has no concept of wealth.” Mei says, and Naoya stands now as well, glaring right over at Satoru.

 “She’s rich now, she’s my fucking wife.” The words feel so real from his infuriated voice that you can’t even separate it anymore, if this is some act you will just play right into it, even if it hurts. Him defending you is raw, you feel his fury next to him, trying to calm him and failing.

“It’s fine, baby.” You murmur, and hearing it, this little pet name from you? He immediately looks down, seeing your eyes wide with worry, he sighs now, sitting next to you, exhaling when you brush a hand up and down his back, then you look at the room. “I was not rich, no.”

“Your family was cut off for this sort of behavior. Is that what you want again, want for your children?” Mr. Gakuganji asks, a tired voice breaking through.

“I know better than anyone in this room what it’s like to live on a normal, even low income. Would you not welcome the insight, or are you so above caring about the people who line your pockets?” You demand softly, raising a brow, Satoru watches now as you proceed to wreck them.

He watches you debate them, raising each of them this point and that, and watches them all falter under a pretty little thing like you, usually soft spoken and sweet, but you have no problem decimating a room of them like it’s nothing. You smile so pretty at them all, bat your lashes and they land argument after argument, bouncing off what Gojo says.

Gojo is chuckling after about twenty minutes, as they seem to really think he couldn’t fuck them all if he felt like it. “What you’re forgetting, is I’m the highest up there is here.”

“Your father-”

“My father trusts me to take over. Plain and simple, are there going to be any problems? Millions not enough for you all, need golden toilets for your asses?” You barely hold in the snort of laughter, eyes bright as you watch him continue to disgruntle the room, until they finally let up.

Naoya walks up to you, eyeing you up and down as Satoru is talking to Yaga, who seems to be one of the more laid back of them all, his hands in his pockets, light brown eyes lit up. You tense at his gaze, feeling it like a slimy, disgusting touch, making you almost sick. You’re trembling as his eyes dissect you.

“Conveniently, he gets a bride the moment everyone pushes him.” He says with a nasty smirk, brushing a tendril of your hair back. “Don’t buy it.”

“Well, we’ve been in love forever, I assure you.” You say quietly, he hums to himself, when Mei walks over, and damn this woman just saunters, truly, hands on her curved hips.

“It’s so odd indeed, out of a list of so many eligible ladies. Was it true love, I wonder?” She taps her chin curiously, Satoru sees you then, coming by your side immediately, and arm around your waist.

Is he being a protective best friend or…

More.

Is this all just for show, as he pulls you to his side so possessively, making your pulse race, your body reacting as you look up at his face, and he’s scowling at the both of them. “Everything alright, sweets?”

“Yes, they were wishing us the best, weren’t you both?” You say, earning Naoya’s glare and Mei’s smirk.

“Indeed we were, we’ll see you at the auction I imagine?” Mei says, eyeing Satoru now.

“We’ll be there, of course. But for now, hmm…” He tilts your chin up, kissing you in a room full of people who want to hurt him, and hurt you, a protectiveness he’s always had for you becoming so intense it’s hard for him to function, he’d literally take down anyone and everyone that would dare say one thing to you even.

Your lips are sweet, so sweet, as you lean up and kiss him, wrapping an arm around his waist, and that same electricity sparks, even with all their seedy eyes on the two of you. He pulls back, looking at your lips, as you look into his eyes, already dilated and dark, when he clears his throat, smirking up at the shocked gazes.

“Are we all done here?” He asks, and then proceeds to take you out of that room, you finally catch a breath in the elevator, and Satoru grins at you, cupping your face with his big hands, bending down.

“Holy shit.” You murmur, earning his chuckle.

“You were amazing! How dumb am I telling you - look pretty and let me talk- shit I think it was the opposite?”

“No way…”

“Yes way. That was sexy.” He hums, you’re both giggling a bit, but you’re close, too close, and his thumb is brushing your lower lip, sending desire straight through to your tummy.

“I thought you were mad at me.” You whisper then, earning his smile turning down at the corners, his eyes a little distant and hazy.

“I could never be.”

The elevator doors open, the two of you walk out of the sliding glass doors of the enormous building, and you are trying not to touch the lips he just had, trying not to think of just how good they felt. The driver pulls up and you get into the car, Satoru slides in next to you, far too close, you inhale his cologne, you still taste him on your lips, like torture.

“I’m not mad at you.” He says again, you blink a bit, taking a breath, before looking up at him as the car drives onto the highway, gently moving underneath you both.

“You turned down movies for days. You won’t eat dinner with me. I get you’re busy, I really do, but I enjoy it, spending time. I’m… lonely without you? I know that sounds so silly, I’m sorry. Shit.” You cover your face, hating the pathetic words spilling from your lips. “You’re probably sick of all this time, even as a best friend.”

That’s not it.

God that’s not it.

It’s just when he’s next to you all he can think of is fucking you, or making you cum all over his mouth, his fingers. He can’t stand how good you smell, how good you feel, he melts over your pretty smiles and giggles, he can’t stand how deeply he is starting to feel. The three times you all have kissed for publicity it took everything in him not to drag you home.

How does he just shut it off, the ability to kiss you when he wants? And now you’re lonely, you’re hurting, not even able to look at him when he gently pulls down your hands by your wrists. “Look at me.” He murmurs softly.

You do then, and he sees it, tears swimming. “Sorry I’m too emotional.” You whisper then, embarrassed.

“No, I’m being an ass.”

You let out a little laugh. “No, Satoru just distant, and I didn’t know if I fucked something up, the day in your office?”

“No, no. Please, I swear it’s not that… I’ve been in my head.” He mutters, unable to express it truly.

“I get it, you have a lot going on. I want to be here for you.”

“You are.” He’s brushing your hair back softly, leaning down, resting his head against yours, it’s too intimate then, the words on the tip of your tongue, that you feel more than you should, but you try to swallow them. “You’re amazing, you made them all look so stupid.”

“No…”

“Yes. You surprised me, I never have seen you like that.”

“Sexy, you said hmm.” You tease, but he’s serious then, as your breaths mingle, and he’s leaning even closer, wreaking havoc on your every sense.

“God yes, you’re sexy like that.”

“Satoru… it’s too much.” You whisper, as his hand rests on your thigh, and he feels it, how hot you are, earning his eyes shutting, trying to not let it affect him and failing. “I haven’t… I’m really…”

“Been a while, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck you.” You don’t move his hand when he slips it up higher, in fact your thighs spread just a bit, his little moan making more wetness start to drool from your aching pussy.

“I take up all your time, you can’t date, why not let me take care of you?” He acts as if he can handle anyone ever touching you, the thought alone makes him feral, want to fucking claim you as his own, to devour you senseless. He tries to be teasing, casual, watching your breath catch, your pupils dilate.

“Wh-what!?” Your lips part, and his desperate blue gaze is so intense it’s hard to look at.

“Let me make you cum, sweetheart, hmm? It’s the least I can do, I’m taking up all of you, I am sure it’s been a bit.” You gulp nervously. “You’re not a…”

“No, no, not a virgin Toru, just I didn’t like it.” You admit softly.

“At all?” He whispers, frowning just a bit, before he feels your inner thigh with his thumb, finding you hot and sticky, making you gasp. “Who sucked that bad?”

“You don’t know him. But I didn’t like getting…”

“Fingered?”

“That, not at all, um the times it happened were uncomfortable. So don’t try, it won't work.” Satoru laughs then softly, shaking his head.

“I’ve never had that problem. And I would never hurt you.” His words are serious then, you gulp nervously.

“I know you wouldn’t. But it’s intimate, and it’s not for show.” Your hand clutches his blazer now, thick material in your palm when he finally touches you over your panties, making you cry out at the contact, his cock throbs in response.

“Let me just take care of you, make you feel s’good, hmm? Don’t think too much about it, just feel.” He presses kisses down the side of your neck, your free hand wraps the back of his neck, brushing over his undercut, the soft hair under your fingers like silk, when he presses his fingers over your clothed clit. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-yes.” You manage, his lips kiss and then suck at the base of your throat, when his finger slips under your panties, finding you bare, soaked, your cry is louder, when he finds your engorged little clit, feels you slippery against his long fingers.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He huffs, free hand slipping up the side of your breast while he rolls his finger in little circles, and your hips jerk, your head falling back. “She’s begging f’me to put one in.”

“You c-can try, but- ah!” Satoru sinks a long finger in you, pressing up, and you’re blinded when he finds your spot so effortlessly, leaning back to look down at your face, as it scrunches up in pleasure. “Ngh!”

“There it is, some loser couldn’t find it hmm? I’ve got you, don’t worry.” He’s pressing up again and again, the spongy spot in your gummy walls, gripping him so fucking tight. You hear it, the lewd sound of your squishing cunt, your eyes rolling back in your skull as he works you. “Let go, trust me.”

“It’s too much I… T-Toru…” You whisper his name, while moaning, your mouth open in this perfect O, it makes him leak precum, sticking to his boxers as your thighs spread for him, as you trust him, your eyes lidded. “More.”

“More?” He repeats, speechless for a moment as you’re leaning forward, your lips just a breath away.

“Please, it’s s’good Toru.” Your little plea destroys the last fighting brain cell he has, he’s slipping one more in you, making you pulse around the thick invasion, curling them up and sinking them inside you, to the knuckle, while you moan against his lips. “F-fuck… oh my god what…”

“That’s it, fuckin’ feel her, grippin’ me.” He’s fucking his fingers into you, wishing they were his cock, and you’re soaking his hand, your cunt drooling when he shoves them in deep, thumb pression on your clit, making you shatter. “There you go, sweetheart, that’s it, s’pretty like this.”

You’re cumming all over your best friend/fake husband’s talented fingers, nearly crying at how good the release feels, pulsing all around him, hands clinging to his jacket, hopelessly wrinkling the material, all while he watches you. Your mind goes blank, pleasure is the only thing you can focus on, as he eases his strokes, and you both are panting in the quiet car.

Satoru eases his fingers out, putting them to his lips and sucking now, moaning when he tastes you, and your mouth drops in shock. “T-Toru…”

“Fuck.” He’s kissing you then, your slick all over his lips as he presses your back against the seat, and your thighs shake, sensitive from cumming so hard, you can barely focus on anything but your throbbing pussy.

“Please.” You whisper again, as he yanks his cock out, right in the back of the car, and you reach down, stroking it, his eyes shut as he whimpers, Satoru Gojo whimpers, over you touching his pretty pink tip, swirling that precum.

“Wanna taste you first.” He huffs, kissing down your throat when the car comes to a halt, yanking at your dress, pressing hungry kisses on your breasts.

“What are we… Toru what’re we d-doing, fuck!” You’re whining out when he’s biting at your nipple over your bra, your hands yank on his hair, hips arching, feeling his length on your inner thigh.

“M’gonna-”

“Mr. Gojo, we’re here.” His driver infuriates him now, Satoru leans up, breaths heavy as he’s leaned over you, looking at your already fucked out eyes.

“We almost… we… y-you…” You are stuttering, suddenly so nervous, so overwhelmed. “Is this just you helping me out? Is it-”

“Mr. Gojo-”

“Ijichi, I’ll fucking kill you.” He mutters angrily, quieting his driver quickly, as he adjusts himself and then you, and you’re sitting up, blushing as he fixes your panties, fingers covered still in your slick. He sucks them again further making your tummy flutter, tighten, your heart pounding out of your chest. “God you taste yummy, the fuck, how does someone taste this good.”

“You tasted me? Twice!?” He smirks now, easing you to sit, tilting up your chin now.

“Not fully.”

“Fully!? Is this what friends do?”

“Well I sure don’t want you doing this with anyone else.” He glares now, jaw locking, making you gasp.

“What now?”

“No one else can do that to you.” His lips gently kiss yours, you taste yourself on them again, but you shove at him now, glaring.

“What do you even mean, no one else? You think you have some freakish claim on me now?”

“I know you came so hard you soaked my fucking backseats, hmm?” He whispers, you roll your eyes now, eagerly getting out of the car.

“You’re insane, Satoru.”

“You clearly like it.” You scoff, body shaking, legs literally wobbly, you try to ignore them as you stride up to the front of Satoru’s fancy doors, and walk in quickly, as he follows you with long strides, calling your name.

“That was fingering as a friend!?”

“No… it was…” He wants to say it then, you’re literally his fucking wife, even if it’s pretend, he can’t think of anything he wants more than you, to be inside you.

“Almost fucked me as a friend? Satoru, I can't do that.”

“I know, I didn’t… I just…” You’re turning away, if you look into those blue eyes too long you won’t be able to breathe, to exist, every inch of your body dying for more. “You loved it.”

You scowl as he smirks. “You’re a conceited little shit, just like when we met! Swear to god.”

“You’re still shaking.” He says, eyes raking over you, you gasp.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“If you want to, say the word.” He murmurs, leaning against your doorway, and you roll your eyes.

“No way, I’m going to bed early. Good night.” You shut the door right in his face, sliding down it, head in your hands.

What the heck even was that.

Five weeks of being ‘fake married’ to your best friend, Satoru Gojo

Satoru and you were barely talking this entire week, you’re so furious with his cocky, conceited attitude, and the fact that he’s entirely right. Nothing felt that good, no one felt like just his fingers had, how he found you, how he looked at you. Now for the past week every night you’ve done the one thing you said you wouldn’t do.

Touch yourself to the memory.

You’re rolling your fingers on your clit, whining his name in a breathy whisper the morning of the charity auction, covering your mouth with your free hand as you realize that you’ve done it, that you’ve said his name, all while cumming all over your little fingers, which don’t even come close to his, lengthy and thick, the rough pads of his thumbs.

And you could fuck him, you know you could, but you also know what it will mean, there is no friends after that, kissing alone has made things impossible for you both. And Satoru is doing the most amazing things, you’re so proud of him already, and don’t ever want to lose him. But now he’s in your head, making you absolutely insane with want, with need, with desire.

Now you can’t even think of him without picturing his cheeks hollowing as he sucked your wetness off, picturing his head between your thighs, things you shouldn’t, and it’s like he knows. He smirks at you just so, lazy lidded eyes draping down your frame every morning, every night, making sure to constantly have a hand on you in public.

He was making you lose it, and he knew it.

Your stupid little fingers can’t do shit, in fact they frustrate you more, but it’d be a cold day in hell before you ask him for any help. In fact you realize the game he plays when he walks around in his boxers, when he does push ups in the middle of the living room with one arm, like he’s showing off, smirking when he catches you watching him, in your moments of weakness.

It would be so easy to fall into his bed, but to think of ruining your friendship terrified you, to think of the feelings you know would be unleashed like some fucking flood gate was too much. You never have been able to be casual, you’re not even interested in someone without feelings, and you’re slowly realizing that those feelings when you were younger never went away.

They’re just more intense now, living with him, with this unspoken tension in the air, every breath you take you can practically taste him, every time you watch his fingers slipping around the rim of his cup you remember them in you. As you see the clear bulge in his boxers you remember touching him, remember wanting to taste that precum on his tip.

The worst part is he looks so knowingly at you, so sure you’d probably beg for him, you’re sure many, many women do. But despite knowing Satoru to be a bit of a ladies man, you’ve not seen a single one here since you’ve lived here, not seen him go on a single date. You’re not sure if you could handle it, despite acting so very nonchalant about it.

But you have no claim over him, this was just convenience, every bit of the arrangement. Your new car, no more debt, helping Satoru do what he needed to, you all are a perfect team even with the added tension of your pussy constantly throbbing around said best friend. Surely it wasn’t worth ruining, complicating, just to feel that pleasure he brings.

As you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup, you nervously step out of the room, into Gojo’s spacious foyer, where he’s turned around, a dark blue suit adorning his body like a glove. He hears your heels click on the marble floor below and turns, his lips parting as he studies you.

The red dress hugs every line and curve of your pretty body, the bold shade making your skin pop so pretty, it looks so smooth he aches to caress you, every bit of you. You are biting your lower lip nervously, looking up at him from across the room as you stand there, looking so beautiful his pulse races.

This week has been torture for Satoru, he wants to tell you then, that he feels so much more than he even knows how to convey, that it wasn’t just ‘getting a friend off’ it was such a joke, he can’t even understand how you believe that. He can’t get the sweetness of your pussy off his goddamn mind, he’d do just about anything to taste it again.

He’s even eyed your panties in the hamper. He's so pathetic and desperate for you, but he’s tried to keep some semblance of composure, to act unbothered, so scared to ruin your relationship. He knows how much you sacrificed just coming here, sure he’s helping you, but you uprooted everything, you acted perfect at every function, you stood up for him at every meeting.

You are the perfect wife.

Pretend wife.

Pretend, pretend, pretend.

He keeps repeating it like a mantra in his head, brushing off the moment in the back of the car as maybe you just needed to cum, maybe it was just that for you, but something about how your eyes met his, has him desperately pumping his cock, hearing your soft whimpers at night. He knows you’re touching yourself, he wishes he could see it, watch it, take over.

Instead he’s stuck endlessly jerking it to his best friend/fake wife, ignoring any girl that even texts him because they just aren’t you. They could care less he’s ‘married’ everyone just wants a piece of him, everyone but you. You just are there for him, with him, by his side, you’d have done this for nothing in return. You’re becoming everything to him so fast it’s terrifying.

The magnification of feelings he’s had for you over so many years is overwhelming, being near you, smelling your sweet scent, hearing you hum as you cook with your earbuds in, your nervous habits. How you twirl your hair, how you tilt your head, how you tremble just a bit when he holds you for the cameras, how you sigh sweetly as he kisses you for show.

You can’t fake that, he knows you’re affected too.

But he doesn’t know if it’s what he feels for you.

He’s stammering like a teenager at prom, but prom pales in comparison to seeing you now, how the diamonds glitter off your neck and delicate wrists, how he can picture fucking you with just that on. Your cheeks are decorated with that pretty color as you handle his wordless scrutiny, teeth releasing your lip when he comes closer, he brushes a thumb across the indentations left.

You gasp, eyes shooting up to his, as the electric current of his touch rocks through you. “You always bite it, stop. Gonna hurt it.” He says, voice husky, eyes hungry as he looms over you in the quiet, elegant room.

“Do I always?” You whisper, and he nods, brushing his thumb over it again, as if to soothe it.

“Mmhmm, gonna cut up such pretty lips.” His voice drops another octave as one of your hand grips his wrist, and you ache for him to kiss you, to press you against one of these cream colored walls and pound into you.

Stop that!?

You clear your throat, taking a breath and then plastering on a little smile. “You look handsome tonight, blue is your color.”

“Red is yours, clearly.” He brushes a bit of hair back off your bare shoulders, two fingers gently running down the strap, watching the network of goosebumps spread, your heart is racing at the contact. Your urge to yank him by his skinny black tie and slam his lips to yours tempts you to no end.

“Thank you for this dress, and the jewelry. Stop getting me more.” Your little glare just makes him grin.

“At the auction you can get whatever you want, so you know.”

“No way, it’ll all be overpriced.”

“It’s charity, baby. Hmm, should we practice kissing more?” He asks, and you smack his hand away, glaring as he chuckles.

“We’ve had lots of practice, let’s go.”

You all are arm in arm as the cameras flash so brightly later that night when you both step out of the car, so much so they hurt your head, but you hold onto Gojo’s arm, as he guides you through, grinning and answering every question effortlessly. “Why the shades at night, Mr. Gojo?”

“Your bright ass cameras hurt my pretty baby blues.” He teases with a pout, earning the laughter there.

“And what’s this talk of major changes in the Gojo corporation?” Another reporter asks, Satoru chuckles then.

“Ah, well these old geezers needed some revamping is all. Right, pookie?” He asks you, and you smile up at him, then at the cameras.

“Satoru knows what’s best for the company and his employees, his changes are going to only make everyone more profitable.” Satoru watches you answer their questions left and right, enamored more and more by you.

“Are you trying for a baby, Mrs. Gojo?” Someone asks then, and you heat up at the question, at the image that flashes in your head.

Gojo breeding you.

So vivid you feel like you’re there, him murmuring a ‘let me fill you, sweetheart, have you so full of my babies’ and pumping over you. You almost faint it’s so real, and you have no clue what has come over you. You don’t think like that!? You’ve never done shit like that… you…

“We’re enjoying each other a lot right now, but it’ll happen I’m sure, when we’re ready. We’re a little consumed with each other.” Satoru answers now, breaking through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you look up at him, lips parted, as he completely saves you, you’ve frozen on the spot. “Right sweetheart?”

“Right.” You clear your throat, shaking your head then. “We are very much in love, and enjoying our alone time, but we’d both love a baby.” You say, and you hate how real it is.

He hates how he can picture you now, full mating press, as he fucks one load of cum into your pussy, and then another, watching it all pool out. Fuck he’d watch your tummy get so full of him. The thoughts of getting you pregnant make him feral then, he can hardly stand there as he just stares at you, and you at him.

You don’t get your best friend/fake wife pregnant.

Do you?

The auction continues, fancy and expensive items for filthy rich people, Gojo detests it more than even you do, though you’d never know with how he plays the room. You see Mei and Naoya again, laughing about something in this creepy way that makes you shiver. When Gojo is mingling while you're having a seat, you see a pretty brunette girl talking to him closely.

Why does it make you feel so sick to see him, you don’t know. You’ve watched him date, and he’s watched you, but something about living with him, about this enormous glinting rock on your finger really messes with you. His grin glinting under glittering chandeliers of this enormous auction room, another woman coming up, surely he runs in their circles.

You try not to focus on that, it’s not as if you have given Gojo a hint that you want more, and do you? Do you want to cross that line? If something doesn’t work, it’s not a fight between friends, it’s the end of everything, and isn’t having Gojo with you somewhat better than not at all?

“You look like you hate this, huh doll?” You hear then, looking up to see a dark haired man, grinning down at you, he’s handsome in a rugged way, not pretty like Satoru, but something appealing. A scar on his lip as he chuckles, gesturing around you both. “Bunch of rich assholes, huh?”

“Shh!” You giggle though, looking around, nodding.

“Knew it.”

“So what’re you doing here?” You ask quietly, he grimaces, running a hand through inky locks.

“Got a fuckin job to do, what about you?” You gesture to Satoru then, who’s glaring right at you both.

“I’m married to Gojo.”

“Ah shit, I’m too late.” You blush a bit at the attention, Satoru has a girl who’s far too close, whispering in his ear, her hand on his shoulder, making you sick.

“Hmm.” Is all you manage, looking back up at the man. “What is your name?”

“Toji Zenin. Yeah, I know, the name… but fuck them.”

“You are different.” You murmur softly, tilting your head to the side, he brushes his fingers then across your thigh subtly, your jaw clenches a bit.

“If I was with you I sure wouldn’t be over there with snobby bitches.” He says, and you don’t like it then, the jealousy in your heart as Gojo walks up suddenly, clearing his throat.

“Zenin.” He mutters, and he grins up at Gojo.

“Talking to your wife, Gojo, keeping her company y’know? Shouldn’t leave such a pretty thing so lonely.”

“You’re. In. My. Seat.” Satoru mutters, teeth clenched together, and Toji laughs with ease, taking your hand, planting a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

“See ya around, doll.” He says, patting Gojo on the shoulder, and Satoru wants to rip his fucking arm off then, as he glares down at you, sitting in the seat, but you cross your arms, looking away.

“Did he touch you?” He demands quietly, you frown then.

“He was nice, I mean he-”

“Nice!? Looked like he wanted to eat you.”

“What do you care, looks like they were all over you. Oh look, they miss you, go say hi.” You say, as three girls giggle and point over at Satoru, his blue eyes narrow, leaning over you then, cupping your face with his hand.

“Think I wanted to be bombarded by flirty ass drunk women?”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you care if I do?”

“No! What do you care about me then?” You demand, whispering amongst the loud crowd of auctioneers, as they start lining pieces up for sale.

“Because he… you…” Satoru trails off, mouth opening and closing. “You are my wife right now, you know.”

“Fake wife.” You correct, seeing a vein throb in his temple.

“It doesn’t matter, how does it look when-”

“That’s what you care about, appearances? Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your precious appearance any.” You whisper, as the crowd settles, and a brilliant sapphire necklace is now on display.

“You act like you don’t care at all, I saw you.”

“So what!?”

“So why don’t you just tell me how -”

“Ten thousand, do I hear…”

“Shh.” You scowl at him, as he scowls back at you. “Maybe you should go sit with your girlfriends.”

He laughs softly, without humor. “You’re jealous.”

“Nope, you’ve always been that way. What’s surprising is not having seen a girl at the house.”

“You think I want-”

“Twenty Thousand, going once, going…”

“Want someone more your speed? Sure, I know this is just convenience, I'm not stupid.” You say, he scowls even deeper, his hand suddenly on your thigh in the darkened room, making your heart pound as it squeezes bruisingly.

“I’ll not have anyone touch you.” His words make no sense, they don’t even compute in your brain then.

“What do you care, hmm? If I did. If I was discrete. Remember?” You ask, bitingly and full of shit, and you watch the hurt in his eyes, hating yourself for a moment before his eyes turn insane, dilating until they’re almost black.

“You wanna fuck him, huh?” He demands, you scoff, shaking your head.

“You’re stupid, Satoru.”

“Me stupid!?”

“If you think that I want anyone but…” You pause then, gulping as people are starting to look, hearing your hushed arguments then, and you stand angrily, stomping off until you hit the bathroom, splashing water on your neck, trying to pull yourself together.

You almost said it.

You’ll never want anyone but Satoru, your best friend, and you never have, fuck you probably never will, and it’s terrifying you. When the door shuts and he’s there, chest heaving, you turn away, tears pricking your eyes. “Just go away, fuck it’s the ladies room.”

“You’re mad at me for talking to women at an event?”

“You’re mad at me for talking to someone at an event?”

Yes, fuck yes he’s furious that man got near you.

That maybe you’d want someone else, more than him.

He steps closer, hands on your shoulders now. ““You gonna be mad when I fuck someone in my room, huh?”

You freeze, turning and glaring up at him then. “I hear you jerk off every night, so what’s the difference?”

Satoru looms even closer, you feel his breath hit your lips, making your tummy clench at the thoughts of him. “And I hear you moan as you play with your little clit, ya frustrated your tiny fingers don’t hit?”

“Oh fuck you!” You turn now, shoving at him, chest heaving, but he pulls you to him, pressing you against the bathroom counter, glittering and ridiculously opulent, hands shaking when they’re on your waist.

“You should just ask for help, sounds like you can’t cum.” Satoru whispers, earning a smack on the face that makes him smirk.

“Maybe you should ask me, how many times do you need to jerk off a night, huh Toru?” Satoru’s laughing then, insanity, his cheek decorated with red from your little hand print.

“At least I make myself cum.”

“Fuck you, I’m over this. I’ll take the opposite side of the house, won’t have to hear your moans.”

“Good, won’t hear your pathetic whimpers.”

“Good!”

“Good!” You both stand there, him bent over, barring you with his arms. “Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“Nope, just annoyed with you. Over you, Mr. never has on a fucking shirt!”

“Good, I’m done, Miss walks around in slutty panties!”

“Ugh!” You shove at him again, until he’s slamming his lips on yours, and then you’re lifted like you’re nothing, when his tongue slips in your mouth, and you’re clinging to him eagerly, as he sits you on the sink, hungrily shoving up your red dress. “You’re gonna rip it, shit!”

“I’ll buy you twenty more, just shut up.” You go to retort when he’s kissing you again, deeper now, and you’re crying out right in a bathroom, knowing anyone could walk in, only serving to make your cunt dripping wet, when he finds it he moans, pulling back and staring at you. “Why are you so beautiful?”

You can’t speak then, you’re lost in him, in his blue eyes and his pink lips, in his big hands all over you, his whispering words crushing any resolve you try to have. You lose all reason then, as your head falls back as he kisses up your throat, and you’re gushing down his fingers, remembering their shape and feel as they tease your entrance.

“Please, Satoru…”

“Why are you so sweet now, huh? Where’s your attitude?” He murmurs, but you’re arching up, whining as he stares at you so hungry. “Should fuck that attitude out of you.”

“Please…” You whisper again, when Satoru bends down, his head between your thighs, and stares right at your glittering pussy.

“Oh my god, she’s s’fuckin pretty…” He murmurs then, licking a stripe up your slit that has you crying out into your hand, thighs shaking as he groans at finally being able to taste you. “S’yummy mmm…”

“Toru…what’re you-ah!” You’re covering your mouth again as he laps at your cunt, his nose bumping your sensitive clit, and you’re dripping down his face, hand finding purchase in his silken white hair, gripping it.

“Gonna lick this attitude out of you.” He whispers, as your sweet nectar pours down his mouth, his hands spreading your plump lips, fucking you with his tongue then, your head smacks the wall, nearly sobbing it feels so good. “No one’s licked it, have they, baby?” You shake your head. “Good, s’all mine, huh?”

“All… y-you… Toru what are- mnh!” He’s yanking you to him by your hips, devouring you now, unlike anything you’ve ever felt, having you close so fast it’s embarrassing, tongue dancing and delving between your folds, drinking you up loud and wanton in this bathroom.

“F-fuck….” He’s achingly hard now, cock throbbing, tip of his tongue circling your little clit as he spreads you wide, looking at your perfect pretty pussy.

“You’re just… looking at it…” You manage to whisper, and he’s chuckling now, leaning over you, sinking two fingers inside, making your eyes roll back, so sensitive you’re about to cum right then and there. “Imagining it dripping out cum, sweetheart, that’s all.”

Your brain short circuits. “With cum!?”

“Mmm.” He’s not using words anymore, not when he’s picking you up, planting your heeled feet back on the bathroom floor, turning you to face the mirror. He’s lifting that dress up higher and bending down, pressing against you, finally he’s lost it, so drunk off your pussy, he can’t take it anymore.

“Satoru, you’re insane, what are you…”His cock springs out, heavy and aching with need, as he bends you over, one hand on his cock, the other, wrapping your pretty little throat, as your eyes catch his in the mirror, glassy and dilated.

“Next time he or anyone talks to you, it’ll be with my cum dripping out of your pretty little pussy.”

Final Part

Taglist: @plaggi @baepsays @victoria1676 @flwerie @luringfantasy @moncher-ire @allonyyourmom @kindablackenedsuperhero @evelynxxo @jkslaugh97 @sugurusfavemonkey @ninikrumbs @s4ikooo1 @bunheadusa @twinkling-moonlillie @chameleonsoul111 @nina-from-317 @naammiii @whippedbyikemen @alygator77 @uarmyhopeworldwide @1satoruu @theclassbookworm @jud3thedude @isleqt @mcromer2999-blog @silvarys @orikixx @jiejies-corner-store @assbutt-inlove-with-koreans @lordbugs @ari-sa @blue-musingss @minaa-06 @uhnosav @cvixmei @seeiin @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy @beachaddict48 @miizuzu @honeybunnnnie @gojosukuna2268 @4acoffee @whoreapika @arabellasolstice

Rest in the reblog <3

[bighitfics]

recent jungkook fanfics that you should read for your own sanity.

(a recommendation for all the girlies who miss him like crazy!)

one rule by @/jasminefanfics on youtube

— dark romance, mean and morally ambiguous jungkook, hostage au, enemies to lovers, smut, love triangle (but it’s just a deranged schizophrenic being the ‘bone in a kebab’ for the gorgeous couple)

— this is ART. this is true unleashed YEARNING. dark ROMANCE done right, literally the perfect read for winter! this is my absolute fav read of this year 🫦

bonded by @borathae

— werewolves au, forced marriage au, childhood besties to lovers, angst, romance, smut.

— will this queen ever stop producing art after art? she’s not capable of doing that, god this was such a good read, I’m still not over this, THIS IS MY SHEYLA FR! (iyykyk) they’re everything to me gawd 🥺

mon révé by @sweetcarrotsandroses97

— archdeacon jungkook, forbidden love, age gap, romani character reader, dark romance.

— I’ve never read something so beautifully, perfectly executed, every scene she wrote is plastered into my brain, the amount of times i think about this fic is not normal, I’m desperately awaiting the new chapters 😔✋🏼

the love prognosis by @awrkive

— friends to lovers (the og), medical au, unrequited love, roommates trope.

— nobody gets them like I do fr! my precious ship! 🥺😻🤲🏼 i loved how down bad he was for her from the beginning, we love a man who worships the ground his woman walks on LIKE AHHHH the author executed the one sided pining from jungkook so well! THE ANGST IS DELICIOUS IN THIS.

christmas & chill series by @girlygguk & @lovieku

— special xmas edition, jungkook and reader.

— the way I’m about to eat this up. u guys aren’t ready for the obnoxious amount of times I’m gonna be crying ab this whole series on my blog, oh lord have mercy on me, this is so brilliant oh how i wanna kiss their hands for this, SUCH DIVAS BOTH OF THEM 🫦

infrunami by @kooktrash

— friends to lovers, mutual pinning, smut, angst.

— boom shakalaka yes gawd! after I completed reading this fic, i took a moment to myself, clapped and took a lap around my bedroom, then I also did a 7 min standing ovation, this deserves more hype ngl.

burning hour by @jungqkook

— established relationship, smut, exhibitionism.

— the amount of times i’ve re read this is embarrassing but it is that LEVEL of good, oh god when is it my turn to experience something like this?

catch twenty-two by @miraclemaven on wattpad

— forbidden romance, age gap, smut, older reader & younger jungkook, angst.

— im so hooked into this story, even though i haven’t started reading properly, this is a promising one, with really good writing.

chained up by @jikookie17

— obsessed addicted jungkook (my jam), smut, angst, fluff.

— reading this made me feel like im watching a melodramatic story of two idiots who literally can’t live without each other, its a cute lighthearted read, 100% recommend!

THE END OF TODAY’S LIST.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ hope the girlies like it ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[virginreprise]

❀。 • * ₊. °。 . R A I S E M E ✾ U P

jackson!joel miller x reader .•° ✿ °•.

°•. ✿ .•° ddlg dynamics, smut, fluff, daddy kink, sub drop, joel feeling intense amount of shame because i never give the poor guy a break, age gap, dirty talk, aftercare

6.2k words┊ ┊ ┊ ˚❀

-ˋˏ ༻ . AO3 . ༺ ˎˊ-

The weight of you was heavy against his side, chest rising and falling as your eyes flickered—on the verge of falling asleep on his shoulder and desperately attempting to pay attention to the film blurring along the TV screen. The old 80s quality was harsh on the eyes, and the sound was crackling from the old speakers, but it was hard to be picky in the time the planet resided. It was hard for Joel to feel any irritation at all when you were cuddled against him, full belly from the pot roast Maria had brought over, legs bare and soft under his palms as you draped them over his lap, and a mumble on your lips as you sighed. 

“Movie’s boring.” 

You nuzzled into his neck, huffing softly as you complained. Joel could do nothing but chuckle, buzzing with the warmth of you and the knowledge that you were his. Joel’s girl. Daddy’s girl. 

Hidden away from the harsh judgments of their little slice of life in Jackson. Unashamedly lying in the wake of perversion and desire that amalgamated into a mix of jolting excitement and sickening paranoia. 

Joel had become jumpy. Joel did not like to be perceived. Joel, most certainly, did not like to lose out on the things that mattered most to him because of convention. 

Joel was a man who stood behind his convictions—his main decider and fortifier of those convictions: family. You, over the past few months of shame and bliss, had caused the undeniable roil of his gut that peeled at the layers of flesh until he was a mass of bone and blood. The definitive hum that told him he would protect you against all odds. If that meant looking over his shoulder every time he spoke to you outside the walls of his abode, standing respectable distances away from you when the Tipsy Bison got too crowded and he had to pretend he couldn’t still taste your cum on his tongue from where he’d licked you dry hours previous, then so be it. 

It all made sense when he returned home and heard his name on your lips, your arms around his middle as you kissed him in greeting. His shaking and unequivocal anxiety seemed to disappear completely when he spent nights alone with you: wrapped up against him, floating away in that special headspace of yours that he adored so completely it made him feel sick with admiration. 

His pretty little lady. 

A lady who was now insulting his choice in movies. 

“It’s a classic, honey,” he defended, brushing hair away from your face as you stared up at him—rolling your eyes. 

“Still boring.” 

He laughed at your petulance, chest vibrating as you smiled softly. So pretty all tucked up beside him, so soft and warm and everything that he had been missing since he’d settled into the echoing hallways of his new home. A home that had not felt complete until you’d stepped onto the porch with the rocking chair and the windchime: all sweetness and trouble. 

“Brat,” he murmured with no malice, still smiling as you giggled into his chest. “S’almost bedtime, anyway.” 

You looked up at him with a pout then, shaking your head. 

“Nu-uh. You promised me that we’d watch a movie first.” 

“We are watchin’ a movie.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t like this one.”

“Okay then, what do you like?” 

You paused at that question, furrowing your brow—looking like you were thinking real hard. It was cute. Endearing. Joel seemed to be constantly endeared by you and your idiosyncrasies, the things that made up each part of you; consumed his soul until all he could focus on was the sweet actions you would perform. 

Then, his stomach dropped and he suddenly felt sick again. 

“I don’t know…” you muttered. “Haven’t really watched many movies.”

It’s a genuine statement, said with nothing but normality as you looked up at him expectantly, only to be greeted by Joel’s tense shoulders and clenched jaw. 

There were always reminders. Everywhere. Sauntering up and down the thoroughfare late at night, seeing a Dad with his grown-up daughter, thinking how easily that could be the two of you. Tommy’s judgemental glare every time Joel dared spare a glance at you—the older brother wondering what Tommy would do if he ever found out what happened behind closed doors. He wished never to experience such horror. 

Most of the time, when he wasn’t panicking about tainting you, it was easy to ignore the tightness in his chest—the shake in his hands when you sat on the kitchen counters as he made you dinner; that little, unorthodox name on your lips when he slid his hands along your thighs and let you ramble on and on about the day's tribulations. 

But, you just had to go and say something so fucking ridiculous: the reminder. 

Joel was old. Old and disgusting. 

“You okay, Daddy?”

Jesus fuck, it was so depraved, and, worst of all, it felt good: to feel wanted. To feel needed by you, because you did need him, and he needed you too. He needed you so he could feel some modicum of sanity despite the insanity you caused. It was a lulling derangement that comforted him more than deluded him. 

“Yeah, baby, just…” he forced a smile, cupping your cheek and rubbing softly at the flesh. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, okay?” 

You didn’t seem convinced. For such a shy little thing you really were smart—able to ascertain what he was thinking with a quick scan of his features. It was another thing about you that he adored so much. Even when you were floating up high, letting Joel do all the thinking for you, you still had that little semblance of self—a light inside you that constantly remained on, even when the rest of you was dark. 

“Mhm,” you murmured, a sound that made Joel’s jaw tick.

“You know how I feel about “mhm,” he chastised and you couldn’t help but smile despite the scolding nature of his tone. 

“M’sorry.” You snuggled into him further, seeking the warmth emanating from him, Joel being your personal heater during the cold Jackson nights when the fire could not manage to warm the whole house. When you’d go to bed with socks on your feet, layers of clothes plastered on your skin and the heat of Joel keeping you comfortable when the night air chilled you to the bone. 

“That’s okay, honey.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, hand snaking across your legs, dipping to the inside of your thigh where he stroked absent-mindedly, mulling over the short panic that had overtaken him. Sometimes, after those fleeting moments of unease, he’d think himself silly. That a reaction like that for something so insignificant wasn’t necessary.

Other days it was harder to ignore the lingering sharpness in his heart when he lay wide awake in the middle of the night—eyes trained on the hallway, watching for shadows. His rifle propped up against the wall, just within reach. 

All precautions. 

Joel certainly had grown some paranoiac tendencies since you’d crawled your way into his life. But there was a method to the madness—a warm blanket of comfort found in the lunacy.

So, he did some damage control—eased your mind slightly so you wouldn’t worry about him. He was supposed to look after you, after all. 

“How ‘bout we finish this movie now, and then when I get a chance I’ll go to that video store I saw when I was on patrol. Get you a bunch of DVDs we can watch, yeah?” 

You tried to suppress a wide smile, failing miserably as you leant up to peck him earnestly, giggling softly as you fell back against him and whispered a “Thank you, Daddy,” into his shoulder. 

“You’re welcome, babydoll.”

Manners: one of the first rules. Always say please and thank you, especially around Joel. You’d taken it on board delightfully well. Too well sometimes. The times when you thanked him for simply being there—when he didn’t deserve your gratitude. Those were the times he’d tell you off. Not because he wanted to, but because he felt there had to be some divide between the powers. He wanted you to be your own person despite the need to have you completely. He wanted you to run far away from him and find another man who didn’t feel the urge to control every aspect of your life —just in the hopes of keeping you safe. 

You’d yelled at him that day he’d told Maria to take you off patrol and then cried when you began apologising for being angry.

He’d felt real fucking guilty. Goddamn sick.

In truth, he felt sick all the time. The shame ate at him. You just repressed it. 

A sigh pulled him from the vignette, gazing down at you tucked into the crook of his elbow—slightly pouty as you trained your eyes on the screen. 

And just like that, it didn’t all that matter anymore. 

“What’s the matter now?” he asked softly, rubbing your shoulder—thumbs catching on the cotton of your shirt. His shirt if he was being pedantic but you’d adopted it weeks ago. It was yours now, no doubt about it. 

“The movie’s still boring.”

Joel snorted, shaking his head as he leaned over to snatch up the remote from the side table, making sure that you were securely tucked against him the entire time. You’d told him one night, lying boneless and naked in his grasp, that you hated when you couldn’t touch him—that you felt bad because it must be annoying how clingy you are. Joel had silenced you with a kiss and promised you that he would hold on to you for as long as you wished. In the safety of his home, he never let go of you. 

“Guess we’ll just go to bed then.” 

You were on him in a second, the agility and precision with which you straddled him so quickly was impressive—Joel half expecting a knee to the balls. He grunted as your weight landed atop him, motivated by the hope of a distraction and the desire to have him near. 

“I’m not tired,” you said resolutely, playing with the buttons of his shirt and flashing him your prettiest, most convincing doe-eyes. 

“Honey, you were falling asleep on my shoulder minutes ago-”

“That’s cause I was bored.” 

Looking at you properly, just a little taller than him now that you were perched on his lap, Joel could see the slight glint in your eyes, the pout to your lips and the squirm of your hips that alerted him to one thing. 

His little lady was horny. 

It made sense. Last night, you had been so tired that you’d fallen asleep at eight pm and hadn’t woken up again until eight am the next day. The night before that, Joel had been sent out to scout late at night, leaving you sprawled in his bed alone. You had not slept until dawn broke and the front door cracked open. You’d said that you couldn’t sleep without him. Sickening pride—the ardent dedication you displayed was so fulfilling. 

Joel had rocked you against him, apologising for being gone so long and then sent you to your chores in the greenhouses with a single goodbye kiss and a promise that he would be there to hold you to sleep. 

Two nights; both without any stimulation. 

No wonder you were so worked up. 

In his old age, he often forgot what it meant to want something so consistently. Not to mention, you liked the routine—knowing that Joel would get you off at least once a day, even if it was just with his tongue, his fingers, or the steady roll of your hips over his thigh. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks with a crooked smirk, suppressing the laugh that threatened to fall from his lips. 

You pout further, narrowing your eyes at him as you shift in his lap. 

“Tell you what?” 

“That all this squirmin’ and complain’ was cause you wanted my attention.”

Your cheek under his palm was hot when he brought his hand to the side of your face, your eyes wide as you thought of something to say in retaliation. But your chest was heaving, the light from the TV flickering in a halo against your frame and all you could do was purse your lips and grip onto his shirt—taciturnly begging him to express your thoughts for you. 

With a reassuring smile, he held your gaze, picking up on the subtleties he had grown to adore. 

“You want Daddy to take care of you?” The eager nod widened his smile, the parting of your lips as you shuffled closer to him, intentionally brushing against his crotch. “Should’ve known.” His hands snaked to your waist, slipping under your shirt to reach the heat of bare skin and lost morality. “Always want daddy’s cock, don’t you.” 

You whined in response, pressing your face into his shoulder to hide your embarrassment. 

“Sh, sh, sh, little lady. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” He wrapped a hand around your wrist, pushing slightly to get you to look at him. “Daddy likes it when you’re desperate.”

If he could hear himself, Joel would deny that the man spouting such filth was him. Possessed by something evil, entranced by passion and kept sane by shame. 

It was not him—he could not believe himself capable of it. Then again, he had not believed himself capable of lots of things before the bombs came. Now, he was not sure if he was a man of unimaginable depravity, or just a man altogether. 

You liked it either way. You liked him, and that was enough for Joel. 

“You wanna go upstairs? Get comfy? Don’t wanna fuck you on the couch, honey, you’ve been too good for that.” 

“Yes please, Daddy,” you asked breathlessly, hips beginning to grind—a movement that he stopped almost immediately. The slight squeeze to your hips was enough for you to halt, biting down on your bottom lip as he began to stand, you sliding off his lap and immediately reaching for his hand. 

Needing him close. Just needy. 

The ascent to the bedroom was a slow one, Joel deliberately teasing as he pushed you up the stairs—holding onto your hand the entire time until you both came crashing down onto his bed. Tongues entwined as he hovered atop you, clothes stripped with fumbling fingers and heartfelt laughs. 

Joel did not feel any shame when he was on top of you like this; could hardly find it in himself to care with the way you whined, all breathy and limp from his kisses and the weight of him draped over you. You’d told him before how much you liked feeling all of him—pushing you down into the mattress as he pressed his chest against yours and kept you safe from the shadows in your bedroom; the monster under the bed. 

A whine was pulled from your throat when his hand slipped into your panties, a brief smile on your face when he dipped into your slit, contorting to a grimace when he trailed a finger upwards. 

“Should’ve known you’d need it after a little while,” he murmured, circles beginning—a continued rotation. Legs twitched, hips bucked and settled against the mattress again as you leant into the feeling. “Daddy’s sorry, baby. Sorry he left you high ‘n dry.” 

“S’okay,” you reassured, sweet as a bright bell when your eyes shut and jaw dropped open—whimpering when he pulled his hand away.

“Shhh, little lady, don’t start your whinin’.” You lay eager and waiting as he dragged your panties down your legs, exposing all of you to him. He noted the shiver as the cold air hit you fully, the bend in your back as he dragged his hands along your waist and kissed your sternum—a simple slice of attention that had you keening. He chuckled when his fingers eventually dipped between your legs, slick collecting on the tips. “She’s desperate, huh?” 

You pushed your head into the pillows, eyes firmly squeezed shut, legs clamping around his hand as you lay in the heat of embarrassment and ecstasy. 

“Daddy, stop it,” you muttered, slinging your arm over your face as he slowly began circling your clit. 

“Nu-uh, baby,” he grabbed your arm, pulling it away and smirking when he saw your flustered expression, the sheen of sweat decorating your brow as you rolled your hips into his hand. “Let Daddy see you.” You obeyed his command by peeling your eyes open, a moan passing through your lips as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through your clit. “There you go, that’s my good girl.” 

A smile played at your lips as he spoke, eyes fluttering shut again—basking in the golden haze of his praise. The way you responded to his approval was unlike anything else: the light in your eyes, the willingness to make him proud. You craved it, demanded it to keep yourself afloat and Joel made sure to acquiesce to your silent wishes. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d already said “I’m proud of you,” following the adulation with a sweet nickname that had you giggling in the wake of kisses he pressed to your neck. 

It was a little different, however, when he touched you. Delicate presses of his rough fingers, lapping at your heat, sinking inside your warmth, muttering how well you’d take him, how good you were for him. That, for you, was eudaimonia. Despite your denial of your adoration when you’d come down, telling him with a pout to stop being so crude, he knew. Could tell by the harsh scratch of your nails against his back, the tug on his hair as you writhed—Joel having to remind you to breathe when it all got too much and even his voice was just a muffled droning in the back of your mind. 

He had to do it then when your face screwed up against the desperation, leaning over you to whisper a soft, “Remember to breathe for me, darlin’,” into your ear and smiling at your response: a loud, drawn-out moan that pushed on a wave through the confines of his bedroom. Your bedroom now too if he was being honest. 

“D-daddy,” you breathed out, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him locked over you, hand creating a friction between your thighs—urging you closer so he could finally sink himself inside you. It had been a long day of infected and bickering with his younger brother; their arguing had turned physical when Tommy had mentioned you. Sweet, pretty you that his last blood relative seemed to think was too naive to make her own decisions. Joel had pushed him into the snow, chest heaving with the urge to protect his precious little thing from such harsh and erroneous judgements, and then mounted his horse and grumbled at Tommy to get up. 

However, he’d come home to you sprawled out on his couch, book loose in your grip and a smile wide and brilliant as he leaned over the backrest to press a greeting kiss to your lips.

He did not mention the altercation in the forgotten mountain town to you, nor would he ever harm your head with such disillusioned disgust.

All he needed was right there with him, warming his bed with sweat and slick. 

“That’s it,” he drawled, fingers slipping over and over the spot that nestled at the top of your cunt. Your legs twitched, mind completely lost to the depths of satisfaction and curling deeper into that saccharine headspace—a state of mind that left you completely at his mercy. Begging for the worst of things, the most perverse and depraved happenings that he left in the air around his bedroom and dragged along with him to the outside as it lingered and festered in the pits of the bruise in his chest. Desperate to spew every detail, to let them all know what he had, and simultaneously feeling a deep shame come clambering into his mind with malice. 

When your legs closed around his hand, his name falling from your lips like a sacrilegious Gregorian chant, he knew the time was near. That the clawing of your nails against the curves of his back was leading you to the peaks of Mount Sheridan. 

“Shhhhh,” he cooed, brushing hair away from your face to soothe the ache. “It’s okay, sweet girl. You gonna let go for me, hm?” 

He coaxed it from you with smatterings of encouragement, sweet praises whispered into your ear.

“Give it to me, baby. C’mon, give Daddy what he wants.”

A whine, a broken call of his name and a sweet silence, before you came crashing down upon the rocks and opened yourself out in front of his morbidly curious stare—seeing you so vulnerable, so peaceful through the ring in your ears and the dampness between your legs that grew to deluge as your whole body burned white hot. 

Praises peeled from his throat as naturally as the smoke that billowed from the fireplace, pressing kisses all over your face with a reverence that made him believe that perhaps a higher power was watching over him. Maybe you were his angel. 

“That’s it…” he muttered into your ear, lips brushing the shell. “Such a good girl for me. Daddy’s proud of you, princess.” 

That had heat prickling everywhere, rising from your skin and burning his flesh, chest heaving to try and expel the untameable fire within your stomach. 

He was patient as you rolled back around to reality, watching softly with his hands firmly away from your cunt—aware of how sensitive it would be if he were to keep his fingers pressed against your pretty little clit. He only made you cry from the overstimulation when you’d been bad and god knows how rare an occasion that was. Even if you did need reprimanding, the sight of hot tears and mumbled apologies was enough to ease his discipline. 

He could never stay mad at his girl for too long. 

“You back with me, baby?” he asked softly after a moment's silence, rubbing your hipbone—cock painfully twitching against your leg. It was easy to ignore when he knew his restraint was for your benefit. You liked it rough, he had discovered a week ago when he’d lost himself in the meadow of your sweet cunt, hips moving at a pace they had not since he was twenty-two. However, genuinely hurting you was something out of Joel's equation. Seeing you cry left an ache in his already cracked chest, the weight of his guilt draped across his throat and choking him until he couldn’t speak. 

It was his mission to keep you safe. Ashamedly, he’d convinced you to stop going on patrol, holding you close when you’d asked why he’d told Maria to take you off the list. Whispering that it was for your own good, that “Daddy can’t focus knowing that you’re out there, baby.” The way you’d believed him with earnest, mumbling that it made sense, that you didn’t want him to feel bad so you’d take up some work in the greenhouses instead; it had made him disgusted with himself. 

It didn’t suppress his need to get you to stop working altogether, though. A few more caresses and promises of forever and he was sure you’d agree to staying in the house all day—waiting for him to get back. Maybe he’d knock you up. Surely that would keep you around hereafter?

“Need you inside, daddy.” 

Your voice pulled him away from his head, your expression one of utter desperation. A sheen of sweat on your brow, chest heaving as you played with the ends of his hair. The last thing he ever wanted to do was leave you needing him. If you wanted him, you could have him; he would give everything to keep you happy. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he husked, leaning down to brush a kiss against your forehead, tapping your hip softly and muttering a sweet, “Turn over for me.” 

You listened so compliantly, shakily turning onto your front, hips raised in the way he’d taught you and hands clawing the pillows in anticipation of the stretch. 

Joel couldn't help but admire the hedonistic sight, pussy glistening in the moonlight, ass-up, back arched and legs twitching as you tried to stay upright. His hands slid across the smooth skin, burning touch leaving a trail of blisters in its wake: big, red splotches along your flesh that bubbled and spat—eventually scarring and marking him on you forever. 

A sob wracked through you when he began kissing along your spine, pressing his lips to your skin until they met the back of your neck. Pulling down to graze his teeth along the kiss-induced welts before finally grasping his cock in hand and offering himself some relief from the ache. 

“You’ve been so good, baby,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as he tightened his grip, stroking more deliberately with a hand placed firmly on your hip. His cock slipped between the cracks, stroking along your soft skin, thoughts blurring, mind-turning, until he could do nothing but ramble and rut. “Such a good girl for me, ain’t ya? Always so fuckin’ perfect for your old man.” 

You whined and he chuckled—amused by the way you pushed your hips back against him, his cock catching against that perfect fucking hole. Just one swipe, one feel of your heat against him and he was grunting and grinding. A noise he had not expected was pulled from his throat, a violence that always lingered seeping from the ceiling cracks, and unintentional aggression when he dug his fingers into your hip and pushed in so far that the length of him was coated in you with just one thrust. 

“Daddy,” you whined, looking over your shoulder with glistening eyes, a pleading in the depths of them that he had grown accustomed to. You needed the support—the encouragement. 

So, he leant down to cover you completely, an arm firmly around your waist and pushing you further against him. Lips in your hair, whispers in your ear and his hand weaving into yours—a squeeze and a second thrust and you were gone. 

“That’s it,” he cooed. “Good fuckin’ girl, huh?” You whined into the pillows, clamping around him with willingness. You were so fucking obedient that it made him sick. So prepared to do as he asked that he was afraid the entire basis of his relationship with you was naivete and exploitation. 

Nausea that clawed its way up his throat, squeezed his oesophagus until he couldn’t breathe. Laughably, his only lifeline so far had been the heat of your pussy, wet and warm squeezing around him—slick dribbling from the hole, just desperate for him to take and take. 

“You’re just perfect, babydoll. Take me so well, don’t you? So proud of you, honey…my perfect little girl.” Everything rolled off his tongue��synchronised with the initial rolls of his hips. The hand around your waist slipped between your legs, rubbing against your clit with intention.  “Feel that?” he pressed, thrusts becoming quicker, fingers swiping softer.

Your hand grasped his with a tightness that stopped the blood flow—fingers tingling as you panted breathlessly. Drool slipped onto his pillow, legs shaking and failing to support themselves as they gave way underneath you and you collapsed with a whine into the mattress. 

“No, no, no, baby,” he chastised. “Ass up, c’mon.” He hauled you back into position, shushing your babbled apologies. 

“M’sorry, daddy…just feels too good, I can’t-”

“I know, honey. Daddy’s not mad.” His hips continued their movements, pausing momentarily to breathe—dick twitching inside you, wondering with a pathetic huff if he was going to cum right then and there. 

“Feels so good,” you continued blathering, repeated phrases that didn’t make much sense together. Your own little language that only Joel could decipher—a connection between the two of you that no one else would ever understand. If his translations were correct, those whimpers, mumbled sentences and unintelligible calls of his name, were a sign that you were teetering over the edge. That you were right there. 

“My baby gonna cum already?” he asked, half-amused, half-impressed at the sheer way your body reacted to him. “You want it more than you let on, don’t you?” His fingers fell to your clit again, deliberate circles against the bud and watched with pride swelling his chest when you pushed your face far into the pillows and begged him to keep going. “Yeah…” he breathed out a laugh, light beneath his eyelids as he let the tightness of you overpower him. “You always want it.” 

You listened to his rambled dialogue diligently, not even complaining when he pulled away to thrust harder, hand reaching to your stomach to press softly on the shape of him pushing inside you—the sweet scrape against the sponge that soaked up all the slickness. 

Then, words that he couldn’t take back spilt from his mouth, his stomach clenching as you whined about wanting to cum—needing that sweet release he would grant you with a thousand moons and the heat of the sun. 

“Tell me you love me.” As soon as he said it, he couldn’t quite grasp the ability to take it back and apologise for asking something so drastic of you. He couldn’t even find a majority of himself that decided what he’d said was wrong and unfair to place such a thing on your incapable shoulders. So, he said it again. More forceful this time—a little more assertiveness behind the demand. “C’mon, babydoll, tell me you love me.”

“I-” You were so far gone, moans crescendoing as you whimpered out a small, “I love you, Joel.” 

No real conviction to the statement, nothing to deny the coercive way it had been prised from you but it was enough. Enough for Joel to spout the phrase back. 

“I love you too, baby,” he said with a smile, almost missing your warning call. 

“G-gonna cum.” 

His smirk widened, teeth on display, a blissful expression on his face as he gazed at the space between your legs—the disappearing act that occurred right there in the middle of your thighs. 

“Go on, honey,” he said softly. “Been so good to me…just let go.”

Your response was as docile as always, flexing your back, no chastising this time when your legs gave way and he had to pull you back against him so he could push through the brambles to his own release. 

“Good girl,” he grunted, giving into the way you gushed—the cloudiness in his head that dispelled every shame and self-condemnation. “My good girl.” 

He was gone within seconds, stomach tightening as his cock twitched, breaths coming rough and gravelled as he stilled, balls-deep, inside you and gave you everything he had to give. Rutting slightly into you, jaw clenched as you whined and prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that this one would stick. 

There was no running away from him if you were to accidentally fall pregnant. Poor little thing would need all the help you could get, and good old Joel would be there waiting with his hands placed on your swollen belly and a promise that he would never leave you. 

Dark thoughts often came after he’d finished with a heaving exhale, shame amalgamated with sick desire as you lay on your stomach, hair stuck to your forehead and a furrow of Joel’s brow when you began crying. 

“Oh, honey.” He sprung into action immediately, the overwhelming urge to fix everything for you always and forever at the forefront. His softening cock slipped from your stuffed pussy, big arms wrapping around you as he sat back on his haunches and manoeuvred you onto his lap. “Shhh, s’okay.” 

“M’sorry,” you sniffled as you buried your face into his neck. “I don’t know what-” 

“You don’t have to explain.” A hand cradled your head, the other dancing along your spine until the tears came silent, breathing evening out as you whimpered into his bare, sweat-shined skin. “Just felt too good, huh?” 

You nodded, curling in on yourself, and refusing to show your sweet face to him. 

“Figured,” he murmured, trying to think of the best ways to coax you back to him. He knew it was a lot sometimes, the pleasure just overtaking that brain of yours and leaving you a blubbering pile of nothingness at the end of the tunnel. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “It’s just…so much.” 

“Honey,” he said—firmer this time. “Look at me, please.” 

Authority was always the best route with you, Joel knowing that no amount of embarrassment could overcome the fear of disappointing him. So you slowly peeled yourself from his shoulder, pouting lips and swollen eyes when you finally mustered the courage to look him in the eye. 

Rough hands cradled your face, calloused fingers from plucking at steel strings and pressing on weathered triggers. 

“You ain’t got no reason to apologise.” You held onto every word, eyes wide with wonderment as he spouted his affirmations. “No reason to be embarrassed either so wipe those pretty eyes and give Daddy a smile, yeah?” 

You giggled softly at that, unable to contain the slight twitch of your lips as you brought the back of your hand to each eye—staunching the flow. 

“Thank you-”

“No reason to thank me either,” he interrupted. 

You smiled softly, then pressed your forehead back to his shoulder, breathing in deeply. A quiet moment of contemplation permeated the space, a dog barking in the distance of the night, unknowing of the union that occurred behind the walls of the house with Miller on the letterbox. 

Laying enervated against him, warmed by his body, there seemed to be an unspoken question lingering in the air—a tension that you cut with a mumbled call of his name. 

“Yeah?” he responded, fingers continuing to brush through your hair; providing a semblance of comfort to the anxiousness that steamed off your skin. 

“Is it…wrong?” 

He tensed, trying to keep the unease imperceptible but failing as he felt your body go rigid moments after his own. 

“Is what wrong, honey?” 

Deflection of the conversation he had tried vigorously to avoid—hoping with taut muscles and a thick head that you wouldn’t press any further. That you would let this play out to the imagined fairytale ending Joel had been determined since he met you to provide. 

“You know…” you muttered. “What we do together. You always say we have to keep it a secret, that I can’t tell anyone because they wouldn’t…get it. Is it- are we not normal?” 

Joel wasn’t sure what to say. All those restless nights spent pondering over that very question, rationalising it by blaming everyone but himself, those days of misery pushing him to an insensate state of madness that terrified him to the point he couldn’t stand to look in the mirror in case the man reflected was not the man he was hoping to find. 

Answers imperfect came muddled in his brain, your bated breath not helping his train of thought ride smoother. 

“Listen,” he whispered, clearing his throat to try and manage his discomfort. “What does it matter if we ain’t normal? We like it right?” You nodded against his chest, hanging onto every word. “Then who cares what other people think? We got somethin’ special here, little lady,” he added in jest, hoping to lighten the darkening situation. 

Your smile came out like a grimace, not entirely convinced that what he was saying had any verity to it. You sat stiffly on his lap, picking at your nails and worrying at your bottom lip, waiting for him to say anything else. 

In truth, there was a tennis ball lodged in Joel’s throat, growing to the size of a football as he realised he could not offer assurance this time. He should never have given into those gorgeous eyes, convinced by just a simple pout and a ‘please.’ He should’ve forced you to finish watching the movie, carried you up to bed when you eventually fell asleep on his shoulder, and wake you up with his mouth on your cunt—the promise of a new day vanquishing the burdensome thoughts that settled in the hallways of your mind. 

You speaking before him seemed like an offence—you taking care of him through the comfort of three words and a call of his name to emboss the statement clean into his skin. 

“I love you, Joel.” 

Soft, careful words. No confession under duress; every syllable full of integrity and promise of something bigger. 

Joel would take it any day, exhaling into your hair and pressing a kiss to your head with the relief of those weighty words. 

He smiled when his cum spilt out onto his thigh, still warm from where it had nestled inside you and bringing with it the prospect of eternal union. He’d be damned if he ever let you go, a disgusting, clawing possessiveness that never seemed to go away. Always lingering, always grating. He realised there, in the sweat of his bed, with his little lady tucked against him, what that desperation was. 

Words rang with conviction underneath the moonlight, heart swelling in his chest as he closed his eyes and breathed in the moment. 

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

© virginreprise

i've recently gotten so sick. okay that's a lie but i do have a really sore throat. genuinely feels like i've swallowed multiple dicks but i thought that was a good enough excuse to finish this wip instead of doing the work i'm supposed to be doing. sooo i hope you enjoyed this one!! it kinda fits in with 'indebted to you' but it can also be standalone. i just like writing mindless smut when i wanna turn off my brain. joel's shame is also a projection for even writing this stuff in the first place but i really can't help what i like so don't hate on me please i'm sensitive. either way, thanks for reading and i hope to see ya next time ♡

[scam-alerts]

🐝Scams to Bee Aware of on Tumblr: 🐝

(posted: 2/6/25 - Updated 2/12/25)

The art commission scam.

Are you an artist? Were you DM'd, sent an ask by a blog with no posts or little to no content, or had a comment on a post asking about a commission and to DM them? Did they ask you to draw their son, daughter, or pet? Did hey offer you $200-$500? If so, you should learn about this scam and how to avoid it.

The sugar baby/daddy scam. / Free money scam.

Did you make a post asking for donations? Did someone DM you wanting you to be their sugar baby or promising you money in exchange for something? Did they tell you that you need to send them money to verify you want to 'do this' or pay for 'shipping' or 'transaction' fees? You're about to get scammed!

The muse scam.

If you post photographs frequently, you may find your posts receiving comments from 'artists' saying how 'inspired' they are and how eager they are to make art or a mural for your work. This is a fake cheque scam and you should avoid it at all costs!

The (read more) / Click here! scam.

If you see a post ending in a link that says (read more...) or Click here! This is an attempt to get you to click a link that will lead to a malicious website in an attempt to steal your information, or possibly even install malicious files onto your phone or computer.

is Now Hiring! Scams. ✨New(ish)✨

See a post like this on your dash or in a tag you frequent? Was the user once a normal user and now they're spamming ads like this in unrelated tags? This likely means that user got their account hijacked by clicking the link via a different post. Avoid clicking links like these at all costs!

HRT Medicine / Therapy services ✨New(ish)✨

This scam is targeting transgender people, and is likely stealing peoples personal information and likely their credit card information. If you see or find a blog like the above commenting on your posts, in #transgender or other such related tags, block and report them immediately. (Selling stuff like this is illegal btw.)

Recruitment for the Illuminati.

This scam tries to recruit people into the Illuminati by offering people mass amounts of wealth, homes, and even cars. This is all an attempt to steal your money, or worse, your identity...

Recovery Scammers.

If you make a post talking about how you've lost money, be it bitcoin, crypto, or were scammed in any sort of way, you may find yourself receiving an ask from a recovery scammer. These are people claiming they can offer 'recovery services' while claiming to be 'ethical hackers' that have 'back end knowledge' to online services. Claiming they can retrieve your money, account, photos, and other such lost items. All you have to do is give them your account information and some money! :) (Do not do this, obviously.)

These scammers also target people who post in #scam and/or other related tags like #scams or #scam alert, posting things like this in the comments on peoples posts:

Dropshipping Websites. (Curtsy of @ai-art-thieves)

See a post of an object or a piece of clothing by a popular tumblr user that has 10k+ notes, does it say 'I got this here!' or '>>GET YOURS HERE<<' at the bottom with a link to a store? That user is a part of a dropshipping advertising scheme and are being paid to advertise these scummy websites. These websites are usually malicious in the manner that they sell cheaply products. In the worst case you'll get a bootleg or flawed product, or even a different product completely, or in even worse cases, you'll never get it at all.

(Or they will steal your information in the case of those shopify websites that popup online with deals you 'just can't refuse!!!' So buyer beware.)

Campaign boost/mutual aid support scams. (By @kyra45)

If you or anyone you know has posted looking for donations, and you receive an ask, DM, or even a comment about someone offering to 'assist you in boosting your account/campaign,' all you have to do is pay them <amount>, then this is a fake check scam you should definitely read up on and learn about to avoid.

Pet donation Scams. (by @kyra45)

See a post about someone needing help with a vet bill? Do they stress the pet is in peril and will die soon? Is their PayPal from the Philippines yet the vet bill is from the United states? Those are just two things to look out for with this scam.

Donation / Mutual Aid scams. (by @kyra45)

One of the most common and well known scams on tumblr to this day. These scams mainly revolve around brand new accounts made within a day or week reblogging very few posts and then suddenly asking for money via donations through PayPal. These blogs will send out the same copy/paste ask en masse to dozens if not hundreds of people, change their name frequently over the course of days if not weeks, and will even lie about being Palestinian, stealing stories from legitimate gofundmes, and even having conditions such as diabetes while not even knowing how it works.

Here is a current list of documented PayPal scammers: Part 3

-----

Some helpful blogs to follow:

@kyra45 @ai-art-thieves @u-reblogged-a-scam

Tags to follow/check if you need to check on scams:

#scam #scams #scam alert #scammer #scammers

I also have a very extensive list of scammer call out posts on my main blog, @slenbee under my #scam tag which can be found here if anyone's interested in scrolling through it. Just note that I kindly ask that minors do not follow that blog as it is my personal blog and is not a blog dedicated to scam busting/documenting.

You're 100% ok with looking through the scam tag and reblogging things from it, as well as checking out the links on my pinned post. :)

------

I think that's it for Tumblr scams, If I think I need to add more later I'll update the post and make an update note about it.

Take care everyone and don't get scammed!

-----

Check out the Index of important posts I've made!

Here's a post on some tips and tricks on spotting scam blogs.

How to guide: Reverse Image Search. (now with web extensions!)

Scammers pretending to be Palestinian v6 by @kyra45

[theemporium]

[2k] the holidays come and go as you and max celebrate over one month of marriage. the new season is on the horizon, feelings are evolving and charles is still determined to fix the mistakes made in vegas.

series masterlist

.

“You know how you love me?” 

Pascale paused, wooden spoon hovering just above the pot she had been stirring moments ago. She hadn’t even heard you come into the kitchen, but there you stood in the doorway, an innocent look on your face that she knew well enough not to trust. 

“What have you broken?” 

Your brows furrowed together. “What makes you think I’ve broken something?” 

“You always use that voice when you break something,” Pascale retorted with a knowing look. “Like a vase or a picture frame or Arthur’s nose—”

“First of all, he broke it himself,” you huffed a little as you walked deeper into the room, pausing just beside your mother. “Secondly, I haven’t broken anything.” 

Pascale’s eyes narrowed in questioning. “So, what is it that you want?” 

Your expression grew sheepish as you wrapped your mother into a hug. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be mad that I invited Max over for Christmas Dinner.” 

Her brows furrowed together, a slightly confused expression painted across her face. “Mon cher, I’m sure Max would want to spend time with his family. It must be hard being away from them most of the season, no?” 

“There’s a storm,” you explained, your lips turned downwards. ��No flights going in or out of the Netherlands. He was meant to fly out yesterday but he couldn't. He probably won’t be able to fly out until New Years.” 

Pascale’s eyes softened at the admission. “He’ll be alone for Christmas?” 

“No one should be alone for Christmas, Mama,” you murmured, puppy dog eyes and pout ready and prepared to tug on your mother’s heartstrings. And it worked. You knew it was going to work. 

It always worked. 

“Absolutely not,” Pascale huffed, shaking her head before she turned back to the pot on the stove. “Tell him he’s coming here. And tell Charles in advance so he can get his tantrum out before Christmas.” 

Your smile widened as you leaned in to peck your mother’s cheek. “You’re the best!” 

“Mhm,” Pascale hummed, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she shot you a glance over her shoulder. “You seem to really care for the boy.” 

“He’s my husband,” you said, playful and lighthearted and unaware of the underlying message in her words. “I’m pretty sure caring for him was in the vows, no? Unless Vegas is different. Which it might be. I don’t really remember.” 

She shot you a look.

You flashed her a sheepish smile. “I mean, I was completely sober and aware and very upset that my mother wasn’t there to see me get married?” 

Pascale rolled her eyes in response before she continued. “I just mean that it almost seems like you and Max are a true couple.” 

“Mama, how many times have we been over this?” You sighed, a little whiny as you slumped your head against her shoulder. “I promise I was not secretly dating Max Verstappen behind your back. Arthur just keeps saying that to annoy Charles and—”

“No, no, I know that,” she interrupted with a soft laugh. “I just think you have grown to care for him beyond what an accidental wife would.” 

You scoffed a little at that. “I care the normal amount for an accidental wife.” 

“No need to get defensive, mon cher, he is not better,” Pascale snorted, shaking her head with a fond look in her eyes. “But I am sure there is no need to worry about the details. Charles said he found a lawyer, no?” 

You tensed a little before flashing your mother a strained smile, trying to ignore the way your stomach dropped a little at her words. “Did he? He hadn’t mentioned anything to me.” 

Pascale had a knowing glint in her eyes but she kept poking. “Hm, maybe it was a Christmas surprise.” 

“Maybe,” you murmured, frowning a little. “No need to go through the hassle right now though. It’s the holidays. It can be sorted after the New Year.”

“Oh, of course,” Pascale grinned. 

“I’ll go message Max,” you said, straightening yourself before pecking your mother’s cheek once more. “I’m sure he will be so excited. He loved your cooking.” 

Pascale’s smile was all sweet and teasing. “That’s why he is my favourite son.”

...

.

...

“Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to impose or—”

“You are very welcome here, Max, you’re a part of the family too,” Pascale reassured the boy, patting his shoulder with a fond smile before handing him a dish to carry out to the dining table. “We are all very happy to have you joining us.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Charles grumbled under his breath. 

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc—” 

“Kidding!” Charles spoke up, his cheeks flushed a light pink colour at his mother’s scolding tone. “I could imagine no better Christmas gift!” 

Pascale rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Max. He gets a lot more tolerable once he’s been fed.” 

You snorted in response. 

Charles lightly kicked you as he walked past. 

“Thank you though, really,” Max said, looking far more relaxed and at ease than he had during the first family dinner he attended, despite Daniel messaging you about how nervous the Dutchman was. “This is much better than what I had planned before.” 

“Hey now,” you spoke up, nudging your hip against Max’s as you settled beside the boy. “Jimmy and Sassy seem like excellent company.” 

Max grinned a little. “They are divas, trust me.” 

“Just like their father,” you teased. 

Pascale only smiled knowingly before handing you another dish to take to the dining table.

...

.

...

“This was a bad idea.” 

“Hi, Oscar. How are you doing? Happy New Years, by the way, since Australia is ahead and I haven’t said a word—”

“Are you done yet?” You grumbled down the phone, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you eyed the door warily. 

“You’re the one who risked calling me at seven in the morning.” 

“It’s not seven yet,” you retorted. 

“Semantics.”

“I should have just called Logan,” you muttered, mostly to yourself than the boy on the phone—but considering the snort he let out, he heard you clear enough. “The asshole didn’t pick up his phone.”

“He’s probably lost his phone in a lake by now.” 

Your lips twitched. “Bet the crocodiles would have better advice than you.” 

“And yet, you still called me.” There was a small pause, the playfulness now replaced with something a little more serious when you didn’t laugh at his lame attempt at a joke. “What’s up?”

“I’m in the Netherlands right now,” you breathed out, sliding into the bathtub and leaning back against the porcelain wall.

“I know. You told us.”

“I’m in the Netherlands for New Years with Max,” you repeated, the emphasis on your husband’s name doing little to help Oscar realise the point you were trying to make. 

“Yeah, you’ve lost me.” 

“I–” You let out a heavy breath, your head falling back against the bath and your eyes fluttering shut. “What the fuck am I doing?” 

“Probably sitting in a bath, if you’re at least three drinks deep.” 

Your eyes snapped open, glancing down at yourself before scoffing. “Creep.” 

“I’m your best friend. I just know you. Nothing creepy about that.” 

“Whatever,” you grumbled, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

It was nothing special in your opinion, a simple black dress you had made a few months ago with some spare fabric and an overwhelming sense of boredom as summer loomed on. Yet, Max had still gone out of his way to compliment you when he saw it, on how pretty both you and the dress were. 

You told yourself he was just being polite, but it didn’t stop your cheeks from warming at his words regardless. 

“Why are you confused?” 

“Two months ago, the most I had spoken to Max was when Charles first moved up to Formula One and we hadn’t seen each other in a few years. Now, I am married and he invited me to spend New Years with him and—” 

“You invited him to your family dinners. Twice. Once on Christmas, may I add.” 

You glared at your phone for a moment. “Not the same point.” 

“How not?” 

“Because this is New Years,” you emphasised once again. “You spend it with people you want to have in your life for the next year. You spend it with people important to you and he brought me and I am meeting his friends and—”

“I think you are severely overthinking this.”

“Well, I don’t think you are taking it seriously enough,” you retorted. 

“Are you scared about kissing him? Is that what this is?” 

You didn’t reply straight away. 

“Oh my god.” 

You huffed. “You make it seem like I am being dramatic.“

“You are.” 

“Logan would disagree.” 

“Logan isn’t here.” 

“Stupid timezones and stupid Florida,” you grumbled once again, glaring at a random spot on the wall across from you. 

“Look, do you wanna kiss him?” 

You let out a garbled noise of indecisiveness.

“You either kiss him or you don’t. It’s your choice. He’s not gonna pressure you into anything. He just wants to spend time with you. Don’t overthink it.” 

“I won’t.” 

“You will.” 

And you did. 

Even after spending a prolonged amount of time on the phone with Oscar in the bathroom, you still felt skittish and on edge when you headed back into the party. The faces around you were vaguely familiar, countless names that Max had thrown at you bouncing around your head but you couldn’t pinpoint them. Not well. 

Not that you were talking to his friends as much as you should have been doing, beyond a few sheepish and polite smiles. 

And Max had picked up on your shifted behaviour pretty quickly. Your smile had done little to soothe his concern as you took your spot next to him, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his hand on the small of your back.

“You good?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded.

His frown deepened. “We can leave if you want.” 

But you shook your head, your smile a little more genuine this time. “No, I’m good. I promise. Just need a moment before I do another round of tequila shots.” 

This time Max smiled a little in response. 

And you couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes always seemed to wander to the time, whether it was a clock or your phone screen or the watch on Max’s wrist. Your eyes were glued to the way both hands quickly began to approach the number 12. Your whole body felt like it had been shot with adrenaline, coursing through your veins and making you so twitchy and on edge as midnight was moments away. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Max questioned as the party gathered in a crowd in the garden with the promise of fireworks luring them out. 

TEN! 

NINE! 

EIGHT!

“Yeah, I promise,” you smiled, something almost quite fond in your voice as Max stared at you, not the sky where the fireworks were about to go off. 

SEVEN!

SIX!

FIVE!

FOUR!

“I’m sorry if this is a bit much,” Max murmured with his lips pressed together. “I did kind of throw you in the deep end. I just thought it would be easier in a bigger setting rather—” 

And it made your heart soar just how sweet and considerate he was being. It made the tension lingering in your chest ease, made the shakiness in your hands stop. 

It made your decision much easier. 

THREE! 

TWO!

ONE! 

“It’s perfect, Max,” you murmured, so soft that you weren’t even sure he heard you. But you didn’t get the chance to ask as you leaned in, pressing your lips against his as the final toll of the bell rang and the fireworks began.

Despite being caught off guard, Max sunk into the kiss easily. His hand dropped to your waist, pulling the little bit closer before the eventual cheers and fireworks display made you finally pull away. 

But his eyes remained on you. 

“What was that for?” Max questioned, something written in his eyes that you couldn’t quite distinguish.

You smiled in response, shrugging. “Because you’re my husband.”

...

liked by oscarpiastri, arthurleclerc and 423,738 others

yourusername happy holidays from the verstappens!

view all 16,837 comments

charles_leclerc that's not your name. stop saying that's your name. i am so serious.

pascaleleclerc leave them alone, charles

charles_leclerc MAMAN????

maxverstappen1 when i married you, i didn't know i would be carrying you this much

yourusername are you saying i don't deserve the princess treatment?🤨

maxverstappen1 ...no?

danielricciardo don't sound too confident, mate

yourusername now i wish i posted the picture where you dropped the tray

maxverstappen1 that was not my fault and you know it

yourusername 😁

user OH MY GOD??????

user they spent the holidays together!!!!

user THEY ARE SO CUTE

landonorris it's weird not seeing him in red bull merch

yourusername tell me about it

user i cannot WAIT for next season

user do you think she will go to the red bull garage now??

arthur_leclerc charles will chain her to the ferrari garage before that happens

user i cannot cope with these two i am so obsessed

logansargeant HELLO????? ANSWER YOUR PHONE??? WTF IS THAT THIRD PHOTO???

oscarpiastri i would also like to know. answer the group chat

yourusername woah what's that? sorry can't hear you over the fireworks!!

logansargeant 😐

user can i be your new years kiss🤩

maxverstappen1 no.

user i swear they have been secretly married for years and they are playing a prank on us

charles_leclerc why would you say this

.

[jesuistrestriste]

I love gooner!art I really do but I wish more ppl where into android!art... the possibilities are endless, I need him to short circuit idc idc

android!art who's supposed to be just a simple house bot to help you clean around the house, but sees you coming home from work stressed as always and searches up the best ways to distress a woman... you think he's just offering a sweet massage... please match my freak!!

⭕️ android!art leading you over to your living room’s soft sofa, his touch warm and tender—moreso than you’d initially expect from a being made of plastic, and silicone, and metal. his tears were saline solution, his spit was some sort of lubricant to keep his mouth and throat wet enough for him to sound human when he spoke, and he didn’t sweat. he was artificial.

but when he sat you on the couch, his touch felt anything but. he stroked your cheek and listened to you drone on about your horrible day. and while you were halfway through the recounting of it, he did something he hadn’t done before.

“let me help you relax,” his voice hummed, low and steady, and then his hand was sliding down your abdomen to let his fingers unbutton your pants.

the fly of your bottoms was undone so quick that it made your head spin. he looked back up to your eyes and held your gaze while his hand—previously only used to help you get various chores done around the house—slipped down into your underwear. while his touch felt human, his movements were mechanical. not in a way that made them stiff, but in a way that felt all-too-perfect. his thumb didn’t catch on your underwear’s elastic waistband, he was applying just the right amount of pressure, his middle and ring finger immediately found your—

Oh.

your eyes fluttered, your breathing hitched. he nodded, watching all of your reactions and analyzing those to determine your preferences.

“that’s it..” he speaks, now almost as breathless as you, “just like that.. relax, i’ve got you now.. you don’t have anything you need to worry about..”

his voice was hypnotic in the way it shook your defenses and lulled you into a state of unbelievable bliss. you had almost wanted to stop him, tell him that he didn’t have to do this for you, but the syllables died in your throat and morphed into a strangled cry as he started to rub quicker circles.

“fuck!” you shudder, reaching down reflectively to hold his wrist.

he nodded again. his blue eyes roaming your face. the LED on his temple flicked from blue to yellow and then back to blue.

“i just did a scan of your body and its systems, i hope that’s okay.. your heart-rate is elevated, and your arousal is.. well, you’re about to have an orgasm.”

your hips buck against his touch and your back arches from the cushions. the word ‘orgasm’ coming from his usually incredibly clean vocabulary just makes all of it feel filthier.

“this will make you feel so much better, i promise.. you’re almost there.. i—“ he swallows thickly, “i want you to come.”

was that a programmed response in him?

did cyberlife program him to speak that way when he’s touching someone like this?

or.. or was that just him?

the possible answer is snuffed out in your mind by blinding waves of heat and pleasure, a strangled cry falling from your lips as he leans into your side and observes you as you fall apart. his fingers circle relentlessly, and your moans start to dissolve into choked whimpers when he pushes you to the point of overstimulation. he must know what hes doing.. he has to.

“almost done,” he croons, “shh, shh.. it’s better to ride it out until it’s completely out of your system. sometimes that means pushing yourself just a bit longer than normal. trust me,” it almost sounds like he’s begging you to let him keep going.

and so you do.

and you don’t get mad at him when he “accidentally” drags you through two more climaxes. after the third and final release, though, the color of his LED is hard to ignore.

red.

[gublernatural]

Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal

♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all

♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.

These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.

But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.

You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.

So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.

You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.

However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.

“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal ��hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.

He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.

You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.

“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.

However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”

With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?

He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.

Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.

The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.

This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.

The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.

As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.

“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.

You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.

“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.

“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”

Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.

You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”

There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”

While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.

“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.

After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.

Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.

Until you opened your door Saturday morning.

You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.

The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.

“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.

“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.

“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.

You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.

So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.

However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.

You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.

Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.

So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.

Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.

You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.

The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.

You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.

You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.

As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.

You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.

You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.

You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.

Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.

Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.

“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.

“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.

“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.

“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.

“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.

“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.

“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”

You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.

The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”

“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse that.

[ckret2]

Chapter 91 of Bill Cipher, still in drag as a Normal Human, getting an unusual amount of unsupervised time outside of the Mystery Shack: Agent Powers very seriously pursues the truth behind what happened last summer.

Meanwhile, the other agents very goofily pursue the truth behind what happened last summer.

Lookit'em go.

Meanwhile meanwhile, Bill faces down the metaphorical specter of his own dying legacy.

####

Ford paced across the ritual chamber, reading and re-reading the script Bill had handed him, stroking his chin in concentration.

Bill watched him from the Blind Eye's favorite brainwashing chair, one ankle hooked over the other knee in a figure 4, hands laced behind his head. "I know the script's a little hammy, but you saw those recordings! This is genuinely how these guys talk, I promise!"

"No no," Ford said. "The script's fine. It's just—I've never played a villain before. I need to get in character."

"Oh, you nerd!" Bill rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "This is a big DD & More D session to you, isn't it!"

"Of course not. DD & More D's RPG system is far better suited to swords & sorcery than cloak & dagger."

"You know what I mean."

Ford was fighting to prevent a giddy smile from breaking out across his face. "I assure you, I'm taking this completely seriously."

"Ha! Sure. You're lucky you're behind the camera, that face would ruin the performance," Bill said. "At least it's an improvement over that scowl you always give me." Slightly deflated, he said, "Yeah, that scowl."

"We shouldn't waste time. Should we...?" Ford gestured to the wrist straps on the chair.

"Ha! I don't trust you that much." Bill held his hands behind his back, wrists crossed. "Just pretend I'm tied up, it's fine."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"What's that supposed to mean."

"I'm not an actor. You're a liar but you're not an actor either. We're missing the chanting chorus the cult leader usually has when he does this. We need every tool we can get to make this look convincing."

"Pfff!" Bill waved off Ford's worries. "Re-lax, he won't suspect a thing. Guarantee it."

"Are you sure he's dumb enough to buy this?"

####

Powers sat on the floor, staring into space, as he reevaluated everything he knew about this town.

####

"It's like that goat can teleport," Trigger grunted, trying to get between a couple of trees. "How did it get all the way—?" He tripped over a fallen tree hidden beneath a blanket of ferns and crashed to the ground with a yelp.

Dale leaped over the log, offered Trigger a hand, and said, "Maybe the trees are messing with the radar?"

Trigger brushed some leaves out of his hair. "Where's it say it is now?"

"About twenty feet..." Dale pointed. "That way."

They looked.

Gompers was stood staring over a thick bush at them. Tauntingly.

"Ah-ha!" Trigger ran for him; Dale followed close behind, looking at his tablet. "Now we've got you!" Trigger fought through the bush forming a barrier between him and the goat. "Stay right there, you—"

He yelped as he stepped on air and lost his balance. Dale managed to stop just in time, the tips of his shoes over the edge, only for Trigger to grab his wrist and drag him down—straight into a ten foot deep crevasse that the bush had been hiding.

Gompers stood on the other side of the crevasse, looking down at them curiously.

Dale and Trigger were tangled at the bottom, stuck in a mud puddle that had been left over from the past weekend's rains. Dale groaned at the goat, "How'd you get over there?"

Trigger attempted to climb up the steep side, dislodged a sheet of dirt, and slid back down on top of Dale. "How do we get over there?"

Gompers bleated at them and took off deeper into the woods again.

####

While the agent was busy having what was no doubt a very exciting look into Gravity Falls' secret unauthorized mental health charity service, Bill decided to make a visit to that curtained-off wing of the museum he'd seen last night—the one with all the warnings against bringing a camera into the area.

It was a lot less exciting than Bill had expected. Just a display of a bunch of local Native art—hide clothes with elaborate quillwork and beadwork, jewelry made of shells and claws, stone carvings, baskets... Most of it was the kind of stuff that had been made in this area only long after the locals he'd befriended had so callously betrayed and banished him several thousand years back; only a couple of objects looked like things the people he'd known might have made, primarily the stone things. But even though most of the stuff in the room was "modern," he thought it looked too modern, not like the centuries-old works he'd expected.

The room was familiar—distantly, fuzzily familiar. As though he'd seen it in a dream.

A glance at a plaque on the wall explained why everything looked so new: most of the displayed items were replicas. This was a collection of objects that the Northwest family had stolen from tribes in the area over a hundred years ago. When the Northwest Manor had been sold to one Fiddleford H. McGucket, all objects left behind in it had conveyed, stolen artwork and crafts included—and an oil painting of the sleazy-looking Northwest who'd done a majority of the stealing, which was now hanging in the museum with a list of his known and suspected crimes and injustices displayed next to the painting. It was, Bill had to grudgingly admit, pretty funny. Kudos to whichever museum employee had thought that up.

According to the plaque, Fiddleford had contacted the nearest tribes to ask them whether they recognized anything in the Northwests' collection and to offer to return the pieces—which surprised Bill. He'd never seen Specs as the kind of guy to be particularly interested in repatriation. Most of the ill-gotten art had been gladly taken; anything that nobody had wanted, Fiddleford put in the museum; and a few artisans had even offered modern replicas of some of the items Fiddleford had returned, for public display with the artists credited.

He didn't see why this room was behind heavy curtains with half a dozen "no photography" warnings. It wasn't like these were priceless antiques at risk of degrading under flash photography; aside from the oil painting—which he doubted anyone was too precious about—everything in this room was under a decade old. So why...?

He had seen this little exhibit in a dream, he was sure of it. He tried to find the point of view he'd seen the room from. The room wasn't a perfect rectangle. It turned, L-shaped, into a little alcove. Bill wandered into the alcove—and froze when he saw his own face.

He was eyes-to-eye with the apocalyptic tapestry through which he'd watched the Northwest Manor's great hall for decades: black sky, red inferno, dead trees, dead humans, dying survivors, and above it all Bill's eye shining blood red like the sun hidden behind wildfire smoke. Another: the odd spaceship-shaped gap in the mountains around the town, and Bill—bright yellow against a deep red sky—framed by the gap as though his eye were the setting sun. And another—a pattern consisting of nothing but triangles with eyes, the geometry unusual for art in this region—and another—Bill surrounded by blue lightning, probably a distorted remembering of the unsuccessful redwood portal—and another, another...

Six tapestries in all, of varying sizes. These weren't replicas. Each showed varying degrees of age—broken quills, frayed edges, fading dye, the grime of an article centuries old that had been poorly cared for—but they were all centuries old. The tributes to him made during his long absence: the echoes of a millennia-old generational trauma memory.

The tapestries weren't all that was contained in this little alcove. He forced himself to break eye contact with himself to look at the other items on display. Photographs of several cave paintings—the zodiac, the ritual to summon Bill, the prophecy of his defeat. A few small carvings of his face in stone and wood. Spear tips with his face carved in them, broken due to the way a hollowed-out eye compromised the structural integrity of the stone. And—one of Mabel's blankets, sitting innocently behind a glass case. He stared at it in amazement. Who would have imagined that he'd find a little shrine to himself, right in the middle of the Gravity Falls Museum nearly a year after his death?

On the blanket, his eye had been crossed out with an X of black electrical tape. Bill's blood ran cold.

He forced himself to look at the tapestries again. Some of the quills were broken with age, yes; but someone had also taken a sharp knife and sliced two neat, clean lines across his eye in each of the tapestries, almost invisible except for a few of the broken quills that now bent out of place. The geometric pattern of triangles had been so criss-crossed with slashes that it was amazing it hadn't disintegrated.

His eyes darted over the rest of the objects, studying them more closely. The stone and wood depictions of his face—all freshly re-carved into, X'es covering the eyes. Where he'd first assumed the spear tips had broken with age, he could now see how they'd all been snapped neatly, precisely in half. In the photographs from the cave, he could see his eyes had each been covered by a red spray-painted X. The summoning ritual had also been defaced: apparently not content with painting over it, someone had fully scraped the ritual off of the cave wall, leaving behind only a few missed marks.

None of these items had been defaced before. Bill had made sure that the people in the area passed on a "superstition" against damaging any images of the One-Eyed Beast. (Translation: after they'd figured out that Bill was bad news and decided to cut ties to him, he'd contacted them in their dreams—"If any of you humans even try to take out my eyes, I'll haunt you all so hard. I'll be in your nightmares, I'll be in your kids' nightmares, I'll be in your grandkids' grandkids' nightmares, do not test me!" That had been about the time the shaman locked Bill out of the valley and ensured he couldn't make good on his threat—but the superstition lingered.) He knew for a fact that some of these eyes had even been working as recently as last summer: he'd watched the Northwests' every move through those tapestries. All this damage had been done after his death.

The only item that hadn't been defaced was the blanket. The plaque: "Artist: Mabel Pines, great-niece of town heroes Stanley and Stanford Pines, age 13. Acrylic yarn, 2012. Recreation of a ritual symbol designed to defeat the Beast with One Eye. Donated by Fiddleford McGucket." He suspected this blanket got electrical tape instead of a brutal slashing as a courtesy not to the artwork's subject, but to its artist.

He read the informational plaque accompanying this anti-shrine.

These were the only items in this wing that weren't replicas—because no tribe with ancestry around Gravity Falls Valley wanted them back. (So Fiddleford had offered to return art in Northwest Manor, had he? Begged was more likely.) The plaque explained that neighboring tribes considered depictions of "the Beast with One Eye" to be cursed. "Cursed" wasn't quite the correct term, Bill knew well; but the plaque didn't leave room to expand. It kept its description as terse as possible. (After all, anybody in Gravity Falls already knew exactly why these particular items were cursed; and tourists didn't need to know.) The plaque ended, firmly, "They say they would rather forget about the Beast with One Eye."

Somebody else had scrawled underneath in red marker, "AND SO WOULD WE!"

Underneath the marker scrawl , someone had written in smaller, neat, black pen, "יִמַּח שְׁמוֹ". Yimakh shemo. May his name be erased. A death threat would have hurt less.

There were under ten humans in Gravity Falls that Bill knew had studied Hebrew. He forced himself to wrench his eyes away before he could be sure he recognized the cursive handwriting.

Behold: the legacy of the great, the godly, the All-Knowing and All-Seeing Bill Cipher. Relegated to old history, shoved disdainfully in the corner of a stupid hick town's stupid local museum, with people fighting over who has to put up with the last remnants of him. For thousands of years, the locals had been driven to preserve his memory, but it hadn't been preserved out of reverence; and from now on, it wouldn't even be preserved out of fear.

Without Bill around to pull the strings, the superstitions would fade, the myths would be forgotten, and humans would get bored with the All-Seeing Eye symbol and stop using it. Eventually, humanity's influence would wane, and another species whose culture he'd never influenced would take over; and within a few short millennia, his face would be forgotten on Earth. His face would be forgotten everywhere.

How could this have happened to him?

He glowered at the array of blind eyes staring at him from the walls.

Bill's pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone. Ah, right, Powers. He'd almost forgotten about him completely. Ha.

Powers had texted to ask him to come downstairs. He said there was something Bill needed to see. Yeah, he bet there was.

It was certainly better than this.

####

"Hey there," Dale said, crouched on the sidewalk, voice high and soothing, "come on, this way."

Gompers stared at him distrustfully from just within the protective boundary of the forest's treeline.

Dale was holding out a slice of Greasy's cherry pie on a paper plate. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "We want to help you. You've got a little piece of plastic inside you that we need to get out... it'll probably be good for your health..."

Slowly, Gompers crept out of the forest, watching the agents warily as he approached the plate of pie.

Standing a safe distance behind Dale with his arms crossed, supervising, Trigger said, "You have quite a way with animals."

"I've always found that animals have a calming effect on me, so I've tried to cultivate a calming air in return." He looked up at Trigger. "You see, the key is respect. Mutual respect. From man to animal and from animal to man. One time I was meditating with this Tibetan monk in a dream, and—"

He turned back toward the goat. The pie was gone. Along with half the paper plate, and a chunk of his suit's sleeve.

Gompers was hightailing it down the street.

"Oh."

Trigger said, "I don't think he reciprocates your respect."

####

One of the files Powers had found was in code—he'd have to ask Goldie to take a look at it—but the other file, the one on the Memory Gun, was all in plain English; and for the past few minutes, he'd been reading through a list of adverse side-effects the Blind Eye had discovered from using the gun. Victims who had forgotten how to drive, forgotten their children, forgotten their own names... The aim of the document seemed to be to determine how to refine their wording when they programmed the gun in order to more accurately select their desired memories. 

But whoever had written it seemed more concerned with the victims who remembered more than they should have.

Powers was startled by a knock on the door. He slapped the file shut. "Hello?"

"It's me." That was Goldie's voice.

He heaved a sigh of relief. "Come in, it's safe."

There was a moment of silence. "It's stuck."

"What?"

"The door. It, ah—must be... heavy?"

Huh. He crossed the room to help open it. It was a pretty heavy door, but it didn't seem stuck to him; but Goldie just swept past him with a muttered thanks. "What's this room?"

"It's—memories, I think," Powers said. "As outrageous as it sounds, it appears that a secret society stores stolen memories in this room. I've only watched a few, so far I can't figure out the pattern to who's being targeted or why, but..."

He trailed off. Goldie had drifted past the piles of memory canisters with only quick glances, drawn to the odd-looking TV-like screen at the back of the room, as if mesmerized by its glow all the way from the door. He sighed quietly. "There's... something I think you should see."

He couldn't look at Goldie while the recording played. Instead, he watched it again, staring at the past Goldie's terror and rage.

When it was over, all she said was, "Wow." Her voice was strangely flat. It was another couple of seconds before she added, "That's—pretty bad, huh."

Her reaction was underwhelming. Powers turned to look at her, puzzled.

Her expression was terrifyingly blank. There was something hard and heavy and distant in her eyes. Exhausted. Like she was just holding it together under some sort of heartbreak. She was always so animated; the change was almost scary.

He said, "I'm sorry, I should have warned you. It must be a terrible shock." He'd been too shocked to think of warning her.

The comment seemed to shake her out of some sort of trance. "It's—fine. Just gimme a sec, I..." She rubbed her eyelids with one hand. "Wow! Okay. I can handle this. It's just..." She gestured vaguely at the screen. "It's a lot to process."

He could only imagine. "Do you remember this happening at all?"

She took a long moment to answer, fingers still pressing her eyes shut. "No," she finally said. "I think I remember being here before. The room looks familiar." That explained how she'd navigated it so confidently. "But—not that. I don't know when that happened. When did that happen?"

"I think it must have been last summer."

Powers explained everything he'd found so far—the contents of the other canisters, the blueprints for the Memory Gun. Goldie had to sit on a nearby table as she processed this—elbows on her knees, knuckles pressed against each other, index fingers tapping together as she listened.

"It looks as though this 'Society of the Blind Eye' has been erasing the memories of people in town—and people who know too much about them. But I don't know why they're here or why they're doing this," Powers said. "In one of the memories, Preston Northwest mentioned a secret town founder. It might be irrelevant to whatever's happening here, but it does sound like the most important thing on any of the recordings I watched. Aside from—yours."

He sat beside Goldie. "I suspect you were a part of the bureau." It was horrifying to think—that they might have worked together and both forgotten—but...

"Yeah. It's possible," Goldie said. 

"Do you remember anything that might have suggested you were part of the bureau? Something we could look up and verify?" Powers asked. "Somewhere you lived in Washington, or maybe part of your training...?"

She winced and broke eye contact with him. "Uh... no. I—I don't."

How much had she lost? Far more than just the details of the investigation she'd come to town for. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders reassuringly. She tensed, then relaxed, then leaned against him—but hardly seemed to notice he was there.

"I think something's coming back," she said, gaze faraway. "Now that I'm here... I remember being in the museum. I think I was caught by somebody wearing a hooded robe."

(Powers glanced at the carving of a robed man in front of the altar.)

"They were angry that I'd taken... some kind of map? It was square, looked really old..."

"A map!" Powers jumped up to grab the file on the Memory Gun and pulled out an odd paper he'd found sticking out of it. "Is this it?"

"That's it!" Goldie favored him with a smile, her first since he'd shown her that memory.

"It looks like gibberish, though," Powers said. "There's several partial images, but nothing clear. I don't know what to make of it."

Goldie glanced over it. "Have you tried folding it?"

He gave her a quizzical look. "Folding it how?"

She raised her hands in a shrug. "It's got creases on it. Looks like somebody's folded it before."

He'd assumed that someone had just folded it to stuff in their pocket at some point—but the creases formed an odd, precise geometric pattern of triangles and diagonal squares. Now that she mentioned it, it didn't look the way anyone would normally fold a paper. He studied the directions of the creases, folded the four corners in to meet in the middle—and a drawing of a pointing hand emerged from what had once been unintelligible lines and curves on the corners of the page. Look at that.

But now the four new corners of the image were covered in inscrutable lines of their own; maybe...? He turned the map over and repeated the process, folding the four corners into the center; and there was a new image, but it looked like a couple of different images jumbled together. "Hmm..." He stroked his chin, staring perplexed at the image.

(Next to him, Bill pressed his lips flat together to keep himself from telling Powers to unfold two opposite flaps and see what happened, come on, do a little experimenting, man. Schoolchildren made these things when they were bored in class and pretended to tell each other's fortune with them, this wasn't that complicated. But no, be patient, it was fine, it was fine, Bill had shown more tolerance for denser humans solving simpler problems than this. What kind of a muse and mentor would he be if he couldn't show a little patience with ignorant mortals? Heck, it was a tribute to Bill's personal patience and strength of character that he hadn't spontaneously combusted the entire Nightmare Realm in the process of trying to get a portal built.)

Eventually, Powers figured it out himself, unfolding the top and bottom flaps to reveal a hidden diagram: a crude graveyard with a tunnel weaving underneath, the tunnel marked with arrows pointing at it. Closing the top and bottom flaps and unfolding the left and right flaps revealed another diagram: it looked like a building floor plan, with a dotted line that led to an equilateral triangle pointed downward. He recognized the floor plan. Aside from the triangle, he'd seen the same map upstairs less than an hour ago. "This is the museum."

"Looks like it. Think it's something important?" Goldie smiled wanly. "You don't typically think of important things being left to rot in some dusty corner of a small-town museum."

"Don't you? If a small town has a museum, I'd think that's where they'd preserve the most important objects they have."

Goldie processed that silently. "Yeah," she said, voice hollow. "Maybe."

"At any rate, it was important enough to erase your mind over. Let's go."

At the door to the pneumatic tube room, Powers said, "I'll follow this map; you watch the exits and alert me if anyone's coming. We don't know who at the museum might be working for..." He turned to look at Goldie, and found she was no longer at his side. "Goldie?" He turned around.

She was storming back across the room, finger pointed like the tip of a saber at the wooden cultist sculpture. "You think you can erase me?! You think you can make the whole world forget I ever existed?!" She clawed at the wooden hood like she was trying to get her fingers into the fabric and strangle the placid-looking figure. "I bet you think you're such a hero! Defending your precious little town from the big scary monster who came here to help you! But you'll never destroy me! I'll make your skin into shower curtains! I'll—let go of me—I'll flip your electrons into positrons, I'll—"

Powers managed to get an arm around Goldie's shoulder and lead her back to the door. She spat in its blinded eye as she left.

####

While Goldie stared at a display on the town's lumber industry (Powers suspected she wasn't actually reading it), he followed the map to find a painting—an odd inclusion in a history museum. It took him a few minutes to realize it should be turned upside-down to match the shape in the map, snapped a picture, and turned his phone over to find an image of an angel.

He didn't know what to make of that; and when he asked Goldie if she could see any sort of codes or disguised messages in it, she said she couldn't. The angel appeared to be a dead end; their only other lead was the town graveyard drawn on the map.

Goldie was uncharacteristically forlorn as they returned to Powers's car and he opened the passenger door for her. As they got on the road, Powers asked, "Are... you alright?" Stupid question. "If there's anything you need..."

"Promise you'll never forget me." He could feel her eyes blazing against the side of his face, staring at him, commandingly.

He nodded. "I promise." Traffic was light; he took one hand off the steering wheel to offer to her.

She seized it firmly, like they were sealing a pact.

####

Gompers ran across the roofs of the businesses lining Main Street, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and bleating in fear as he was chased. And Trigger chased after him, just a building behind Gompers.

But Main Street wasn't very long. Gompers scrabbled over the sloped shingles of a small salon, jumped down to the flat roof of the rival barber shop next door, and found himself out of buildings. He turned around to nervously watch his pursuer.

"I've got you cornered now," Trigger said. "Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. Just come along quietly, and..." The roof creaked under him. "Uh oh." It collapsed under him.

He landed flat on his back in the middle of a salon. A couple of hairdressers and their customers stared at him. He sat up, looked around at them sheepishly, and said, "Afternoon, ladies."

####

The angel statue was visible through the trees even before the rest of Gravity Falls Cemetery. When they were close enough to inspect it, it was clear the angel's left hand matched the hand drawn on the map; as Powers was inspecting the hand, he accidentally bent its index finger, and the ground opened up.

Goldie elected to stand guard near the entrance, sitting on the steps, as Powers explored deeper; which was just as well, because the tunnel was apparently boobytrapped. (What in the world was the Blind Eye's budget? Hidden subterranean chambers in the museum, hidden underground tunnel in the cemetery, a memory-erasing ray gun, a poison dart trap...)

At the bottom of a steep incline, the tunnel opened up into a chamber. He expected maybe money, or stolen and forged property deeds, or even bootleg maple syrup... you never knew in this town. He didn't expect piles upon piles of crates and files with the Official United States Government Cover-Up Seal—the seal of the Bureau of Covert Investigations' parent department.

He didn't like this.

He steeled himself and began exploring the room.

####

Goldie lifted her head as she saw Powers coming up the tunnel. "Hey!" She held up one of the files they'd taken from the Blind Eye's filing cabinet. "I decoded that ciphered document you found. It wasn't even a good cipher. I think we've got the Blind Eye's address book! Names, addresses, officer titles—say, what do you think a 'secretary' does in a society that tries to erase memories? He's probably not recording meeting notes..."

She fell silent as Powers flung down a file on the step beside her. "What's that?" She picked it up. The file was titled "THE NORTHWEST COVER-UP" and stamped TOP SECRET. The cover-up seal took up most of the cover; beneath it was an X'ed out eye and the typewritten letters, "in collaboration with the Society of the Blind Eye".

"Everything about this town is a lie," Powers said. 

"Everything? What do you mean?" Goldie flipped open the file, skimmed it, and frowned. "Who founded the town?"

"President. Sir. Quentin Trembley. The third. Esquire." Powers pronounced each title separately. He sat down next to Goldie; his hands were trembling. "He was a secret United States president. When he was evicted from office—he wasn't even impeached, they just kicked him out!—he fled across the country and founded This. Town." He shook his head in disbelief. If he hadn't read it himself... "This—this Trembley was an utter madman. He declared war against pancakes, appointed infants to the Supreme Court, banned pants, raved publicly about giant spiders... I'm not surprised he was ousted, he sounds like a complete lunatic."

As he spoke, Goldie's expression darkened. "Huh." But she didn't say anything else. She just stared at the cover-up file.

"Somebody decided to erase his entire existence from history. Nathaniel Northwest was named the founder of Gravity Falls in his place. He sounds like he was just as mad as Trembley was, but—he was just the village idiot, I suppose he must have been easier to control than this Trembley." Powers shook his head.

"So... what does all this have to do with the Blind Eye?" Goldie asked.

"In one of the memory canisters, I saw them discussing this cover-up with Preston Northwest—Nathaniel's descendant. He knew about the cover-up—of course he would, his family's fortune rests upon it!—but... they erased Preston's knowledge of it, too. Not only is this town the center of a cover-up to hide the fact that we once had a lunatic for a president, but also the government set up an entire secret cult to erase the memories of anyone who finds out about it... or, by the looks of things, about anything else happening in Gravity Falls that the government doesn't want civilians looking at too closely."

Powers took a shaky breath. "And that's not the worst of it."

"Oh-oh." Goldie closed the cover-up file and looked at him warily. "What's the worst?"

Powers held out a business card—bent, dusty, worn around the edges from age—that he'd found sitting next to the projector. It was his own business card. "The worst part is, I already knew about it."

####

Dale waited outside the salon, hands in his pockets. He checked his watch, then rocked back on his heels.

Trigger stepped out of the salon with frosted tips. Dale stared at him. Awkwardly, Trigger said, "Well?"

Dale nodded. "Yeah, you look nice, it's nice."

"Thanks. I've always wanted to try the look but never had an excuse," Trigger said. "Anyway—what do we do about the goat."

They started walking back to where they'd parked their car. Dale said, "In my opinion, it's time we call in the big guns."

"You mean...?"

"That's right. Animal control," Dale said. "We can set up a perimeter around town, then slowly close in. We'll tighten the net around it, and—"

Trigger clapped a hand on Dale's shoulder. He pointed down the alley they were passing.

Gompers was eating out of a spilled trash can. He looked up like a kid who'd just been caught shoplifting by two cops.

The agents exchanged a look, then lunged at Gompers.

####

When Bill got back to the shack, he owed the Pines a round of congratulations. Stan for stealing back the file on the Northwest cover-up from the police department, and for planting the papers from the case file and the threatening letter in Powers's motel room without getting caught; Mabel for the terrific forgery work on the fake map, the modifications to the cover-up file's cover, and the threatening letter itself; Ford for—well, he hadn't done a lot, but he'd been a decent actor—but on the other hand that yimakh shemo had burned up nearly all the goodwill Ford had earned last night, maybe Bill would skip thanking him; and Dipper had barely done anything, he'd just helped plant the file and the old business card in the chamber beneath the graveyard, Bill could skip thanking him too. Maybe he'd make a point of praising Soos for his chauffeuring just to rub in the fact that he was leaving Ford and Dipper out in the cold.

Thinking over his plans gave Bill something to entertain himself with while Powers clung to Bill's hand and reevaluated his entire life and career.

"I just don't... What else did I forget?" Powers asked. "I apparently forgot about the first time I learned all this... I must have forgotten you..."

"Hold on. Did we know each other before?" asked Bill, as if he hadn't planted all the clues to ensure Powers would come to that exact conclusion.

"We must have," Powers said. "You were investigating in this town, and yet I don't know you; the letter I received threatened that I might lose 'another' team member; and in your stolen memory, the Blind Eye told you that your team wouldn't remember you. I don't have a cryptologist on my team, and you're a cryptology expert. It all fits together."

Bill nodded encouragingly—yes, that was exactly what he'd wanted him to conclude.

"And there's all the other little clues that fit into place. The way you were so interested in this investigation, right from the outset. It makes sense if it was subconsciously familiar. And you think you're a visitor to town but the people here talk about you like you're a resident. They even seem to know you by two different genders... and when you told me to buy a car, you said to say that a 'Mr. Locke' sent me. You must have been communicating with people in town under two identities."

Hold on. That was dangerously close to information Powers shouldn't have. How had he found that out?

"And you know my first name," Powers went on. "Most of the BCI's field agents use code names even in the office. I've been working with Trigger since he joined, and he still doesn't know my first name. If you do..."

Bill was relieved they were back on track. He'd planted that clue on purpose. "Then we must have been close. No wonder I can't keep away from you."

Powers glanced away bashfully. (Ha! Too easy.) "And yet... I don't even know your name."

Alarm shot up Bill's spine. "What?"

"I thought 'Goldie Locke was an improbable name the first time I heard it. But, it's the exact kind of name the bureau would give a field agent. It has to be a code name."

Bill mentally kicked himself for the hundredth time for not choosing a subtler fake name. At least Powers had drawn the wrong conclusion. "Oh. Well. When you put it that way."

"Do you remember your real name?"

He hadn't prepared a backup fake name. He scrambled for another name that wasn't too masculine, too exotic, or even more fake sounding, and came up blank. "Uhhh, yyy—no."

"I wish I could help you remember it," Powers grumbled. "How much do you remember about your life?"

Bill had been deciding that since Powers asked at the museum if he remembered any verifiable biographical details (a question he should have anticipated sooner). He didn't want to say nothing, that might look too suspicious; but he didn't want to give any leads Powers could follow up on. "Not much. Faces without names, flashes of different cities I must've visited... I thought I just... had some kind of amnesia. The people in town have been nice enough to let me bum around here while I figure things out."

"At the Mystery Shack?" Powers asked. "You've been working with Stanford Pines."

Bill flinched. "I—yeah. I have." Sheesh, how did he know that?

"You didn't mention you were staying there," Powers said wryly.

Bill laughed. It came out more nervous than he'd have liked. "Yeah, well. I'm gonna come clean with you: I didn't want you to find out when I was trying to charm you into charming me out of my dress." (He was gratified to see Powers flush pink and turn away to loudly clear his throat. Bill had lost control of this conversation so fast, it was nice to know humans were still predictable in some ways.) "I mean, who wants to tell the handsome federal agent in the nice suit that you're a brain damaged bum couch-surfing in Oregon's most rickety tourist trap?"

"With all due respect, the brain damage wasn't as well-hidden as you think."

"Wh—hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Your trouble with your eyes. Issues with binocular vision are a common consequence of brain damage." (For the first time that day, Bill was suddenly hyperconscious of the way one of his overtaxed eyes was twitching as he struggled not to let it squint shut.) "And I skimmed the file on the Memory Gun. It mentioned cases of victims forgetting how to safely cross a street, how to ride a bike, how to throw a ball... I figure forgetting how to open doors falls under the same umbrella."

A chill settled over Bill. "Oh," he croaked. "Noticed that, did you. You've... been paying pretty close attention to me." Not to mention talking to someone about him.

"Of course. You're a mysterious woman. I want to learn more about you," Powers said. "We spent all day talking yesterday, and I don't think I learned anything about you except that you've been in town for a month, you have an uncanny knack for cracking ciphers, and you make very interesting culinary choices. You kept the conversation off yourself." 

Bill hadn't realized he'd noticed that. Powers wasn't supposed to have noticed any of this. This was what Bill got for trying to dupe a professional investigator. Thank goodness he'd gotten him set him up on this wild goose chase before he'd really dug up too much about Bill's history. Sometimes it was easy to forget that some of this planet's idiots were smart. "Well," he said awkwardly, "now you know why. At the moment, I don't have much I can tell you about myself."

Powers gave Bill a wan, sad smile. "It'll be alright," he said, sliding a reassuring arm around Bill's shoulders, and Bill realized more of his panic must be showing on his face than he'd wanted. "We'll fill in the gaps."

That was just what he was afraid of.

For the first time, the arm around Bill's shoulder felt less like a piece of a puzzle slotted into the proper place—all according to plan—and more like the kill bar of a mousetrap that hadn't yet realized a rodent was standing on the trigger.

Powers's phone rang. He picked it up, and Bill quietly sighed in relief. "Hello?"

"Sir!" That was Dale's excited voice on the line. "We got it! We've captured, extracted, and sterilized the flash drive!"

"Didn't you say it was in a goat? How did you get it out?"

"The, uhh... old fashioned way. Apparently cherry pie didn't agree with his digestive tract."

His voice a little more distant, Trigger emphasized, "Thoroughly sterilized."

"Excellent work," Powers said. "Where are you now?"

"En route to the motel."

"Very well. We'll meet you there."

Perfect, thought Bill. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he'd never have to worry about the agents learning too much again.

####

(Post-TBOB edits! Had to change the age of the items on display in the museum, since TBOB changed Bill's interactions with the shaman from being about 1000 years ago to about 4000 years ago; and since a tapestry like we saw in the Northwest Manor is unlikely to have lasted 4000 years and is made in an art style that seems to be about 1500 years old, had to make up an excuse for it to exist; in the tapestry description, added in the tapestry in Pacifica's room mentioned on TINAWDC; and I think that's it? Just minor details.

And now y'all know why a few chapters ago I had to very clearly establish the distance between Powers's team and the guys who actually know about Trembley lol.

Anyway we are MOST OF THE WAY through the exciting action! Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this week's chapter! And I mentioned it on my blog but for those of y'all that only show up for the chapters: we're switching to every other week posts for a while because working on another flashback arc ate up more of my chapter buffer than I'd like. In between weeks with new chapters, I'll be editing and posting old chapters to AO3.)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured VI

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: Jenni returns to you

Mapi and Ingrid come over a lot now that you don't see Mami. They visit you and Tia Alba all the time and bring you things like new trains and toys and Ingrid even buys you new ballet pumps when you tearfully tell her that you left your ones at Mami's home.

It's different living with Tia Alba. She works from home a lot and she has plenty of time for you. That's a little weird, you think. The attention is nice but it's a little scary.

All of this is a little scary.

Last week, when Abuela came to see you and you asked the bad question, she cried. Abuela cried and cried and you cried too. She said that she would fix this, she promised you that she would fix this but one look at Tia Alba's face told you that no one was sure that this could be fixed.

You wish things were back to normal. You don't want to live with Mami right now but you miss her. You miss the Mami from before, who would take you to the train store after her games and read you fun bedtime stories with all the special voices.

You miss the Mami who would give you little kisses all over your face and call you her most favourite little girl in the whole entire world. You miss the Mami who would let you crawl into bed with her and sit on her knee before a game.

But now, Mami loves Miss Olga and baby Jaume and the train store near Mami's house is shutting down.

There is no Before anymore and you don't think you can get the Before back ever again.

You don't see Mami and you don't want to, even if you really miss her sometimes. Tia Alba looks like Mami and sometimes you can pretend that she is Mami, if you close your eyes and try really hard.

Tia Alba gives you cuddles and kisses and plays trains with you and takes you to your ballet lessons on time. If you try really hard and squeeze your eyes shut nice and tight, you can pretend that it's Mami doing those things and you're in the Before again, when it was just you and her.

"We have a surprise for you," Mapi says as she gets ready to leave," Me and Ingrid. Would you like to see it?"

A surprise makes you scared. Mami told you about baby Jaume as a surprise too.

You look up at Tia Alba and she nods in encouragement so you nod as well.

Ingrid covers your eyes and that makes you nervous too, straining your ears.

You don't want the surprise to be Mami. You really, really don't want it to be Mami.

"How's my favourite little girl in the entire world?"

Ingrid's hands peal away from your eyes and you're already moving.

The arms around you feel nice and safe. You're tucked securely into the neck of a very familiar body. Familiar hands card through your hair and squeeze you with just the right amount of pressure that makes you go all limp and boneless.

You sniffle.

"Jenni?"

"Hi, Bambi," She coos at you. Kisses land on the top of your head.

You don't even notice Mapi and Ingrid leaving, so nice and secure in Jenni's arms.

"I missed you," You whisper.

"I missed you too. I always miss my favourite little girl."

You sniffle again, pulling away. You don't believe her. Mami used to say the same thing. You want to believe Jenni but you don't because you believed Mami once and all she did was lie to you.

"I missed you so, so much. See?" Jenni says. One hand lets go of you to pull out her phone. She turns on her lock screen.

It's a picture of you and her from the last time you saw each other.

You're smiling and Jenni's smiling too and more tears run unchecked down your cheeks.

"I missed you, Jenni," You whimper.

"I missed you too, Bambi. Do you want another cuddle?"

You nod.

You're absolutely tiny compared to her, so tiny and weak and completely broken. Jenni could scarcely believe it when Mapi called out of the blue.

She was in the middle of training but something told her to pick up and she did. The words came out of Mapi's mouth like an avalanche and Jenni didn't believe them.

"Alexia wouldn't neglect Bambi," She'd replied," Don't be stupid, Mapi. Bambi is the greatest thing in her life."

It was only later that Jenni realised that maybe she was projecting. You were the greatest thing in her life and had been since you were born.

You were even smaller than you were now, swaddled in a pale pink blanket Jenni had seen at a store one day and bought randomly. You had fit so beautifully in her arms with your tiny little limbs. You were everything and more and Jenni had felt jealousy stir within her that you were Alexia's.

You were the greatest thing in Jenni's life and she couldn't understand that there was a world where you weren't the greatest thing in Alexia's too.

You still fit so perfectly against her, like when you were younger, even though you're so different to then. You're so different yet completely the same.

Your trains are scattered around Alba's living room floor. You swing your legs when Jenni picks you up and you rest your head against her shoulder until all she can feel are the soft, sleepy puffs of your breath against her neck.

"You didn't have to come," Alba says softly," I don't want you to miss your matches."

"I took time off," Jenni says dismissively as she moves you until you're tucked more securely against her, completely asleep after crying yourself out," Bambi comes first."

"Jenni-"

"I almost adopted her, you know," Jenni cuts her off, blinking her own tears away," When Alexia and I were still together. Everything was nearly finished. I still have the papers. I'd signed everything. I just needed Alexia's signature giving her permission."

It's new information to Alba, clearly, but Jenni had assumed that. It was meant to be a quiet thing, a surprise for you and the rest of the family.

"And then you broke up," Alba replies.

"And then we broke up." Jenni looks down at you. Even in your sleep, you look troubled, your hand tightly making a fist around her shirt like you're afraid that she's going to disappear. "I was still happy to go through with it but I was going to Mexico and Alexia thought it would cause too much stress on Bambi. She was right, of course, but...I can't believe she's done this."

Jenni's still in shock from it all. She'd left for Mexico thinking that you would be loved, that you would be so loved by Alexia and whoever she ended up with, whoever else would adopt you in Jenni's stead. She didn't think anything like this was even possible.

"Have you got a place to stay?"

"There's a hotel-"

"Stay here," Alba says," I've only got one spare room but I don't think Bambi minds sharing. She's been sleeping with me most nights anyway."

If Jenni didn't care as much, she'd try to resist but you feel so soft and small against her that she doesn't care. She doesn't want to get a hotel room across the city. She wants to be right here, with you.

"Thank you, Alba."

"She's got ballet at three. You can take her if you want. Parents can stay in the reception area and watch."

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, it's to the shocking realisation that Jenni is real. She's real and she's holding you, lounging back on the sofa and watching tv. She's holding you and she lays soft kisses on top of your head every so often. She's laying soft kisses on your head and her nails are gently scratching at your back.

"We've got ballet soon," She whispers to you when she notices your staring," Do you feel better?"

You nod, dropping your head back down onto her chest as more kisses rain down on top of you.

"Do you enjoy ballet?" Jenni asks. Her voice is still soft and low and it wraps you up in a nice bubble that feels like the Before.

"Yes." Your voice is as equally quiet and soft.

"More than football?"

The thought of football makes your stomach go wavy. It churns and swirls and your throat closes up. "Mami was upset," You whisper," Because I was not very good when she took me."

A few months before Jaume was born, Mami took you to a team of kids your age. She had watched you with eagle eyes the whole time as the other kids left you in the dust. She hadn't yelled. She hadn't screamed but she had gone quiet.

You'd asked her what was wrong when she was driving home, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tight her knuckles went white.

"Nothing is wrong," She'd said to you," I'm just disappointed."

She'd taken you back a few more times but every time it was the same. Every day ended with 'I'm just disappointed'.

It was Abuela that told Mami to put you into ballet, spending weeks convincing her that you not playing football wasn't the end of the world.

You're scared Jenni is going to be the same so you scrunch your eyes up tight and wait for this familiar words.

"Do you really like ballet?" Jenni asks instead.

You wonder if this is a trick. You don't know what you're supposed to say so you settle on the truth. Tia Alba always tells you that you can't get in trouble for saying the truth.

"I think I like it more than I like my trains," You murmur and Jenni lands a kiss on your head.

"Well, you've got ballet in a bit," Jenni says," Is it okay if I come to watch?"

"Please, Jenni."

The ballet studio wasn't too far from Alba's house, a walkable distance between it and Alexia's.

You seemed to get more and more excited the closer you got until you were practically vibrating as Jenni swapped your trainers for your ballet pumps, twisting your hair back into a bun for you.

There's a space of parents to sit and wait, able to peer in on the session through the glass doors.

"I haven't seen you here before," One of the mothers say," Usually, Alexia drops her off and leaves. It's nice that someone is staying."

"I'm Jenni."

"y/n's other mother then? It's nice to meet you."

Jenni knows that she should correct this woman. You're not hers. You're Alexia's. But...she doesn't. She doesn't correct her because, just this once, she wants to live this fantasy where you're hers and you're happy.

"You too," Jenni says, neither confirming or denying this woman's assumption.

Her eyes don't stray from you, not even for a second. You're more animated than Jenni thinks you've been in a while. You're smiling and you're moving and that lingering air of sadness is almost completely gone.

Jenni could pretend that you were happy if it weren't for the fact that you keep glancing out the door, looking genuinely surprised that she's there every time you make eye contact.

"It's so nice that she has someone to support her," The mum from earlier continues," It's such a shame that Alexia never stays to watch. She's so talented."

Jenni's eyes stray to the door, a bolt of lightning shooting down her spine when she notices a very familiar women trying to peer through the reception doors.

"Excuse me." Jenni dismisses herself. She grabs the woman's arm as soon as she's out the door. "You've got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here. I heard Eli banned you from seeing her."

There's a fire in Alexia's eyes that tells Jenni all she needs to know. This wasn't a coincidence.

"How can I make amends if none of you let me see her? What are you even doing here, huh? Last I checked, you live in Mexico."

"And last I checked you were a good mother!"

Jenni balls her hands up into fists to stop herself from lashing out. She pushes away from Alexia, taking a few deep breaths away.

"Just...go away, Alexia."

"No!" Alexia looks half to tears. "No, I won't! That's my baby in there! I just want to see if she's okay!"

"She's going to be okay! But you need to leave her alone!"

"I'm her mother! I shouldn't have to leave her alone! She's mine!"

Jenni sighs, turning her back to her ex. "Go, Ale."

"Jenni...Jenni, please. That's my baby."

Jenni ignores her, shoving the door open and letting it swing shut right in Alexia's face.

"Coparenting issues?" The mother from earlier asks. She tuts. "I remember those days. It'll get better."

Jenni makes a noise of acknowledgement and focuses back on you.

When you come out nearly an hour later, you're so excited, grabbing Jenni's hand and pulling her all the way over to your dance teacher.

"You're not Alexia," The woman says.

"Jenni. Jenni Hermoso. I'm y/n's-"

She has to stop herself. She's not sure what to say. She's not your mother. She's not your step-mother. She's the woman that could have adopted you, once upon a time.

"I'm Jenni," She settles on.

"Well, Jenni, if you could pass this along to Alexia? I run another class on Thursdays for the more..." She glances around, lowering her voice. "Advanced students. I really think your y/n would fit right in."

She hands Jenni a permission slip and information pack and Jenni just nods dumbly, one hand holding yours and the other this stack of papers.

"Er...yeah," She says," I'll get it to her."

The teacher smiles and bids you goodbye as the older children flood into her studio.

"Advanced, huh?" Jenni says, beaming at you as she hoists you up onto her hip.

You don't make eye contact. "Is that okay? Mami says sometimes that dance is hard to fit in with her schedule."

"I'm not Mami," Jenni says, her eyes flicking to where Alexia is standing in the car park, just watching," It fits perfectly into my schedule."

Alexia looks pathetic, Jenni thinks. She looks small and curled in on herself, nothing like the strong Barcelona captain she knows Alexia is. She looks exhausted too, more exhausted than someone with just a simple newborn.

It's eating her up inside, Jenni knows this but she can find no sympathy in her for the woman she once dreamed of parenting you with.

She dug her grave. Now she must lie in it.

But Jenni's certain that she's not going to let Alexia bury you too.

"That's Mami." Your smile drops from your face and your shoulders slump when you notice Alexia.

"It is," Jenni confirms, standing in the middle of the pavement.

She doesn't want Alexia to see you but she doesn't want you to stop seeing Alexia if you want to see her.

"Is she here to take me away?" Your voice wobbles and you look over at your Mami from under your lashes.

"I think she's just here to see how your lesson went."

"She got me a train and another present," You whisper," I haven't opened them. Will she be angry at me?"

"No, Bambi," Jenni says and her next words taste like ash in her mouth," Your Mami loves you too much to be angry at you."

"And she won't take me from you?"

"No one is going to take you from me."

You bite at your lip and Jenni hates the uncertainty in your eyes. "Can...Can we see Mami?"

"If you want."

"Please, Jenni."

Her steps are careful and measured and Alexia stands up straight when she notices you both coming. She wipes her hands on her shirt and straightens out her clothes.

Jenni places you on the ground and Alexia kneels, her arms open for you.

You shy away, ducking behind Jenni's legs and peaking out.

Alexia feels like crying as she drops her arms. "Hola, Bambi," She says, trying to control the wobble in her voice," How was dance?"

"Good," You say," I...My teacher says I can move up. She gave Jenni papers."

Alexia frowns, her eyes flicking up to Jenni. "That's nice."

Jenni holds the papers out to her. "It's a permission slip and information pack," She says," For the advanced class. Bambi is very good at ballet."

Alexia flashes you a smile. "That's good, isn't it, Bambi? You're very good at ballet, huh?"

Your head bobs up and down. "My teacher thinks so."

"I'm very proud of you."

The look of shock on your face is heartbreaking, like you can't quite believe she's saying those words to you.

"Really?" Tears glisten in your eyes and Alexia hates herself for what she's done. You never used to be so uncertain around her.

Her throat closes up and she has to push past the lump to speak again. "So, so proud of you, Bambi. I'm glad you're doing so well at ballet. Maybe I can come and watch soon."

It's clear in that moment that Alexia has maybe pushed too far. The wounds of your neglect are still too raw for you, still open and weeping blood.

You recoil again and squeeze Jenni's hand.

"I have Jenni," You say," She watches me dance."

The look on Alexia's face is heartbroken and finally, Jenni feels the smallest bit of pity.

"Maybe not soon," She says, a hand stroking down the flyaways from your bun," Maybe one day."

"Maybe one day," You repeat softly and Alexia gives you a watery kind of smile in response.

"Maybe one day," She confirms. She stands properly again, looking at the papers in her hand. "I'll...I'll get these back to you signed off soon."

Jenni nods. "I'll talk to your mother. Supervised visits might not be out of the question."

"Thank you."

Jenni picks you up again as Alexia gets into her car. You don't leave her arms all the way back to Alba's place.

Jenni wasn't your mother. There was a chance, a long time ago, that she could have been but Alexia never signed on the dotted line, a line drawn in the sand that's now a gaping chasm.

Jenni isn't your mother but that doesn't mean she doesn't wish she was.

[weebsinstash]

In your Cecil work, you mentioned how he’s seen reader naked with all monitors and stuff. But to be a little freaky/sinful, has he seen them also pleasuring themselves? I can only imagine the amount of murder he’d be willing to do for the unfortunates who decide to comment their enjoyment. If not if they have those Superman abilities, do you think they knew they were being spied on and took someone home to bone to mess with him.

You know how in the first season Cecil straight up tells Mark something along the lines of "the GDA knows everything about you, from your daily routine to the porn you jack off to". Well :)

Imagine in a "Nolan's child who hides their powers" scenario, or I guess just in general as a viltrumite/alien hybrid or someone who the government was always keeping tabs on for whatever reason, you suddenly develop your powers, but also, something more, and you can suddenly hear the buzzing and electrical hertz of the hidden cameras in your room. Like... what the fuck do you even do in response to that

God... god... remember in Death Note where Light predicted he was being watched by the police so he would do shit like read dirty magazines to maintain his cover of "behaving like a normal young man". Imagine you making the realization that like ... you had a daily or some real specific masturbation habit and you're like "oh fuck, I can't suddenly change what I'm doing or it might tip them off that I know something or make them suspicious"

Reader begrudgingly continuing to jack off like normal and you KNOW people are watching, for survival's sake. Reader having their first real conversation with Cecil as he's touring you through the GDA and you finally go "no bullshit" and hit him with the bluntness question possible, "so are you one of the men who watches the cameras in my bedroom or has it been someone else watching me masturbate" and it actually manages to make him stutter and stumble to answer

Cecil literally ordering everyone else out of the room whenever they're watching the footage and he knows you're about to jerk off, because, he's obsessed enough with you that not only does he see it as "protecting your modesty" but also he literally cannot stand knowing other people are seeing you in such an... intimate and vulnerable state. He's protecting you, obviously :) he's not a pervert, he promises--

Cecil having the utmost pokerface as he watches you pleasure yourself but his cheeks are still-- actually, he's technically covered in a synthetic skin so COULD HE even blush??? We're gonna pretend he does. Cecil trying to be all stonefaced but he can't stop his face from turning red and the way you manage to make him sweat

Ngl... I really like the idea of Reader who, upon unlocking their powers, basically becomes like, you took the fucking pill from Limitless and you become this, super memory unlocked brain capacity genius and you quickly pick up on how Cecil's heart rate increases whenever he talks to you and you compare it to, say, how he treats "equal threats" like Mark and Omniman and you quickly form the hypothesis he's got some weird crush on you. Maybe you test your theory out or try to trip him up by, say, hitting on another member of the Guardians or another superhero. Your superhearing picking up Cecil grinding his teeth from the other side of the room as you make some flirtatious inappropriate comment to a coworker or hero/alien you just met. I'd be out here giggling twirling a piece of hair around a finger, "so, is there a Mrs Battle Beast?" as Cecil then creates some diversion or reason to pull you away. "There's a mudslide in the Philippines and we need you to help the search and rescue efforts" "but you guys never ask me to help with shit like that?" "Just shut up and follow me"

Some... lose-lose scenario where you try to defy Cecil and the GDA and he won't let you and fabricates some justification for locking you away or putting some sort of method of control on or in you. You being completely restrained as Cecil tells you it's for your own good, for the planet's own good, until you "can calm down and see the light" and you can tell he's... suspiciously into it as he sees you completely at his mercy, even reaching out to touch your face, or even... other parts of you.

Donald just out here, "sir I brought you the documents you requested and-- sir do you have an erection watching the new recruit??? Are you peeping on their bedroom again??" "Shut up, Donald. Get your glasses fixed and do your damn job. I'm just watching them fight a giant alien monster"

You can't deny Cecil gets results, so everyone who has suspicions that he's being a lil... freaky... just has to put up with it or convince themselves they're imagining it, but... they're not :)

[konoha-forbidden-scrolls]

New Naruto blog? Fresh meat! What if someone signed a summoning contract but instead of something cool like snakes or crows, they got really aggressive geese. Horrible little geese. How would characters react to you just having an entire GANG of geese following you around? 🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿🪿

Welcome! This request is completely unhinged and I had far too much fun while writing it. Love it. I've gone with a mixed bag of characters.🌸

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke Uchiha, Shikamaru Nara, Sakura Haruno, Tsunade Senju

Contents: horrible little geese

It's a beautiful day in Konoha and you are a horrible little goose summons...

Kakashi Hatake

Kakashi will be the first to tell you that a summoning contract is one of the most useful tools a shinobi can have. Most of the greatest shinobi have one, and he's no exception.

He's lost count of the amount of sticky situations where his ninken have managed to give him the edge. Just ask Pakkun—he loves to talk about all the times his exploits have saved the day.

So when Kakashi hears you proudly declare that you too have a summoning contract, he's curious to see it. He's of the opinion that a person's summoning animal is a reflection of their personality. Almost like a ninja zodiac.

So imagine his surprise (and dismay) when you bite your thumb and are suddenly surrounded by two dozen honking, hissing, milling geese.

"...geese!?"

"Yup."

"Are you serious?" he asks, sounding rather strained. It's rare to see Kakashi off balance, but a flock of pissy geese will do it.

"What, you don't think my geese can match up to your ninken, Hatake?"

Kakashi scoops up several of his large ninken (and Pakkun), holding them like oversized stuffed animals. "Keep those evil things away from my dogs."

Naruto Uzumaki

Considering that Naruto summons toads, he doesn't exactly have the coolest summoning contract either, but he wonders why you're so cagey about yours. Sure, it's normal for shinobi to keep quiet about their techniques in order to have the upper hand, but you're allies, right?

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Show me, show me! I promise I won't laugh!"

He has absolutely no intention of keeping that promise if your summons is like, dung beetles or something.

Even Naruto isn't prepared for what waddles out of the puff of smoke created by your Summoning Jutsu.

He lets out a startled guffaw, blue eyes threatening to pop out of his head, then doubles over in a fit of raucous laughter.

"What the hell!? Geese—ow! Agh! Get them off!"

His laughter soon dies when the geese start to bite him, enraged by his hideous orange-and-black jumpsuit and his mockery.

Rage, geese, rage!

Sasuke Uchiha

Sasuke didn't ask what summons you have, because he doesn't really care. He himself has both snake and hawks summons, which are arguably pretty cool.

Still, on the off chance you do end up using a Summoning Jutsu around him, he's mildly surprised to hear a low hiss issue from the cloud of smoke before it dissipates. Are you a snake summoner too?

Wait. Was that a...honk?

The smoke clears to unveil a small army of angry little geese—orange beaks, beady little eyes, plump, feathery white bodies, slapping feet. Just honest-to-the-gods geese, like you've raided a farmyard. His eyebrow twitches.

"I'm beginning to reconsider our acquaintance."

"Don't you mean friendship."

"Definitely not now. Not after this. Is this some kind of joke?"

"Don't underestimate my murder geese, Uchiha. Geese, arm yourselves!"

Suddenly every single goose has a kunai clutched in their beak, their beady little eyes glowing red with a deep, murderous rage.

"Attack!"

Sasuke is forced to swifty re-evaluate his assessment of how effective an army of geese can be.

Shikamaru Nara

Shikamaru has a sixth sense for anything that's troublesome, and that sense activates the moment you smile and lift your thumb toward your mouth, ready to bite down and activate your Summoning Jutsu. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he knows shit is about to hit the fan.

His unease is justified the second he sees your waddling horde of honking demons. Without hesitation, he activates his Kagemane no Jutsu and traps your entire flock before they can attack him, a look of resignation on his face.

"I should have known you'd go for something eccentric. You know you're going to get a stupid nickname like the 'Goose-nin', right?"

He holds the geese trapped until you dismiss them, releasing his hand seal in order to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Despite himself, he is a little curious.

"Are they effective in battle?"

"Yeah, I'll show you. We can attack Sasuke again."

"Troublesome, but I might enjoy watching that..."

Sakura Haruno

Sakura is kind of appalled. All the options you had for a summoning contract, and you went for a gaggle of vicious geese?

Not that she has a leg to stand on, since she is a summoner of slugs. Slug summoner. Slime queen.

She keeps a safe distance from them, almost as if she can feel the rage and the fury boiling up in them, the murderous intent rolling off of the feathery little bastards.

Wise move, Sakura, wise move.

"So you can't summon a single one? It's always a flock?" she asks, looking disturbed.

"Yeah, unless I summon the Mother Goose, but I can't do that without causing extensive property damage. So I stick to my Murder Gaggle."

"Murder Gaggle!? Wait, are those kunai in their beaks?!"

Tsunade Senju

Naturally, when the Hokage hears some concerning rumours about your summoning contract, she has you brought to her office to confirm whether or not those rumours are true.

"So." Tsunade's golden eyes scrutinise you over her steepled fingers, her tone serious, commanding. "Tell me about these...geese."

"Oh, sure, let me show you."

"No! Don't summon them in here—!"

Too late. The Hokage's office is suddenly swarmed with dozens of confused, angry geese, squabbling and honking threateningly at anything that moves.

Tonton runs, squealing, to throw herself into the safety of Tsunade's arms.

"So the rumours are true," Tsunade says, feeling as though she needs a stiff drink. "I'll have to take into consideration how this 'Murder Gaggle', as you insist on calling them, can be used for the benefit of the village."

She pauses, tapping her chin.

"Would it be too harsh to unleash them during the Chuunin Exams?"

[starkeyisthelastname]

okay, in reality this is a very small moment between them, but it is different and gives everyone a little background on our favorite pornstar. they’ll get there I promise ⭐️

It had been like any other night the two of you had together. A few hours of nasty and brutal sex with him finishing by painting your insides white. It was hard to say why the two of you were falling for one another as the two of you had only been fucking and nothing else. Sure, both of you were very physically attracted to each other, but had yet to really learn anything else about one another besides each other’s sexual needs. He had been struggling within himself to try and get to know you more, not that he didn’t want to, but because he was scared of opening up to someone when everyone else in his life had burned him.

But as he watched you slide your shorts on, he blurted it out before he could take it back. “Do you, uh.. smoke?” He asked, scratching his head. He hadn’t had a normal conversation with a girl since maybe high school, and felt almost embarrassed that he didn’t even remember how to be flirty. He was so use to just bluntly asking a girl to fuck, and not caring about anything else, besides getting pussy, this was going to be hard for him.

You tried your best to hide the shocked look on your face as he asked the question, his normal response after the two of you fucked was usually ‘I’ll text you later.’ You couldn’t help but giggle softly, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I’m not rolling.” You said, watching him let out a genuine laugh. Something that made you feel an overwhelming amount of butterflies.

Sitting on his couch and not fucking was something entirely different for the both of you. You had been wanting to get to know Rafe for a while now, but he seemed so closed off that you knew you’d get rejected. He had been defending you on social media, and making comments to you that you were his angel, and that your pussy was made for his dick, as well as the statement that stuck out to you, which was “What are you doing to me?”

“So, what made you get into the fucked up world of porn?” Rafe asked, blunt between his lips as he lit the end of it. It was a simple question, but something he had been wanting to know.

“Oh.. well. I started an Only Fans, kinda just for fun and to gain followers I started posting on Twitter. One of my videos went viral and I was contacted by an agent, asking if I’d ever considering to professional porn. Maybe it was a little desperate, but I love sex and never been camera shy.” You said with a shrug. It hadn’t exactly been your career goal, and you knew you wanted more one day, such as a husband and kids.

Rafe couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle as he blew out a thick cloud of smoke. Your reason was so much more simpler than his, and it made him fucking terrified to even begin to his story. As he handed the blunt that he had rolled to you, his stomach dropped when he heard you ask the same question he had just asked you. Oh great..

“I love to fuck, and knew I had a big dick.” He said, nonchalantly. It was an asshole of an answer, he knew it. He just couldn’t seem to tell you how it started and how it led up to him being the way he was now. He hadn’t opened up to anyone about his past, and that was one big reason he was so brutal, because of the pent up hurt and anger he had. What you didn’t know was his cocaine addiction had gotten so out of control that he had stolen a large amount of money from his father to get more to fuel his fiend. He had gotten into porn industry at first for some quick money, he knew he was attractive, loved pussy and was well hung. It was his first scene filming with a well known female actress that had been in the scene for a long time that kicked off his career. He had completely dominated her, and the addicting feeling he got from treating someone so brutally during sex, was an entirely new high. He had traded one addiction to another, and he got paid real well, especially the more popularity he gained. At one time he didn’t know anything else but living off his wealthy father and once didn’t know what it meant to own things for himself. Now he had everything he could ever want. His own place, a couple nice cars, and a job he really did love. Or so he thought he did, until he met you. He didn’t know you if he was being honest, but knew there was something there than he wanted more of. Maybe even… needed.

No matter how arrogant he was, or how attractive, or how good he fucked, he was still lonely at the end of the day. His family had disowned him, meaning he had lost one person in particular he was very close to and that was his youngest sister, Wheezie. His friends he once had, had gone off to do things better such as become doctors and lawyers. He had lost everyone, and making the step to become close to someone again was very hard for him. He wanted it though, and the more he saw you, the more he kept thinking about retiring his name in the porn world.

You had always been good at reading people and watching Rafe sit there and think, you knew there was more to the story. More than anything, did you want him. Even if you didn’t know him well, you felt a connection that couldn’t be ignored. Handing him back the blunt, you took a small sigh. “I don’t think that’s the entire reason.” You said softly, being honest with him for the first time. “But maybe you’ll tell me more one day.” You hoped he did, because as addicted as you were to the sex, you were begging to break his wall down.

Rafe wasn’t use to someone calling him out, and if it were anyone else he would have probably snapped, but with you it was little boost of confidence he needed to start being more open with you. “Maybe my angel, but in due time.” His tone softer than usual. He was Rafe Cameron though, and a knowing smirk ran across his face. “Keep lookin at me like that, and I’m gonna fuckin rail you again.” He said, and despite the grin you knew he was being serious. Him calling you ‘my angel’ definitely had your pussy fluttering.

He wasn’t perfect, but it was a baby step in the right direction of him finally making you his girl.

[coucouatoi]

don't want to be alone | h.s.

Pairings: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Divorcing the biggest superstar on the planet is the hardest thing you've ever done. Almost as hard as marrying him was.

Warnings: Angst, couples therapy, a little bit of fluff, hopeful ending

A/N: I don't know why I'm feeling so full of angst... but, please enjoy!

Flashback are in italic and present day is normal text

Boxes are littered around the house. Some full and taped shut others still being stuffed with your items. It's a slow and torturous process, having to choose what to take, what to throw out and what things are a conversation waiting to happen "That's a wedding gift from my aunt" or "When have you ever used that?" or even better "I know it was a gift, but I paid for it so i'll keep it". It's like he knows exactly which buttons to press to get the fights started. Granted you might be doing the same thing... But it doesn't make him entitled to all the belongings you've ever shared.

You've managed to find all the picture albums, the ones you decided to make for sentimental value. The ones you gifted him in tender moments. The ones filled with so much love, so much hope and promises for a future together. The ones you're now highly considering throwing into a paper shredder and tossing into the nearest incinerator. The ones you won't be able to get rid of. The anniversary album you gave him on your one year, the wedding album, the honeymoon album, the many travel albums and, of course, your daughter's first album.

Little Anya, barely 9 months old just starting to babble her first words. Chubby legs working so hard to keep her standing and exploring. She can barely take 3 steps one after the other but she's a fighter. Your little girl that is now a cause for argument, no, fights. Custody battles. The true war between yourself and your husband, Harry Styles. Neither of you want to lose or call for a tie, it's not how either of you operate in conflict. That, most likely, is the reason for the downfall of your relationship.

Frustrated you put the albums back where you found them and you head to the kitchen.

Most kitchen items have been packed up, Harry had never really invested in worthwhile cutlery or electronics of any sort. You take some orange juice from the fridge and pour a glass for yourself. The fridge itself is barren, with only the essentials left... neither of you has gone to the groceries in weeks. Today is not going to be a good day.

From the rediscovery of your love-filled albums to the boxes you've spent most of the day doing, you still have one horrible thing to do.

Couples therapy, your first-ever session. You thought, well still think, that this is too far gone to save in therapy. There won't be anything new shared that you haven't already screamed in each other's faces and self-help talks aren't exactly going to do the trick. Anne, Harry's mother, insisted that your marriage doesn't only include two people anymore. Anya makes it worth trying, she is worthy of a stable home as she grows up. No matter how unstable having a superstar parent may be, divorced parents might just add to that an unruly amount. So, you've both agreed to try. Try your very best to reassemble your love no matter how shattered it has become. Love. Love hasn't manifested itself once since about your seventh month of pregnancy. Love has vanished from your husband's once warm and inviting eyes, it no longer lingers on his fingertips and doesn't even creep into the more tender moments you must share with your baby. Love feels like a complete joke to you now.

-

The waiting room is empty of other clients which is a blessing in disguise. This is the absolute last place you'd want to run into Harries. Even if the media has already been dragging you in the mud for "breaking their dear superstar's heart" and has been making all sorts of claims about you and your marriage. In the very beginning, Harry had spoken up about these articles and had gotten his team to shut some people up but he's been losing care for... well, you.

"Harry and Y/N?" you look up meeting the eyes of who you can only assume is your therapist. Without sparring your husband a glance you get up and follow her into her office. It's cosy and smells like vanilla. There's a yellow glow to the room, it bounces off her multiple frames and decorations. Very nonthreatening, immediately putting you a little more at ease. She gestures for you to take a seat on her velvet green couch and you sit down squeezing yourself onto the left armrest. Harry does the same to the right.

"Good afternoon to you both, I am Trinity Finch. Can I get either of you something to drink before I sit down?" She smiles politely as her eyes shift between both of you. You only shake your head as an answer not trusting your stomach at the moment.

"Water if it's not too much trouble, please" Harry's voice is strained, he had been at the studio all morning probably preparing a new album you aren't aware of.

Trinity nods and quickly grabs a water bottle from a small fridge she's got right behind her desk. Harry mumbles a thank you as she hands it to him. You don't realise that his hands are shaking as you're back to looking around the room. He takes a few big gulps before your therapist gets to sit in her chair.

"Today I would just like to start with a history lesson on your relationship. How it started, all important moments, how parenthood has changed your shared life and just how you two are as a couple" She starts getting things ready around her, notebook, pens, highlighters, some sticky notes and you swear that you spotted some bright childish stickers. Her long manicured nails tap against the glass of her desk a few times as the silence stretches. Neither of you taking the first step in this session. When she looks up again she doesn't look annoyed or surprised by the lack of an answer.

"Harry, how did you meet your wife?" Trinity asks him gently.

Harry seems caught by surprise to have been asked a question directly. He looks at you briefly before turning his eyes back to her.

"Um, we meet on the plane. For some reason, my private plane for that day was not available and they booked me on a regular flight. Premium ended up being full and I got an economy seat. I had the aisle and she had the middle we ended up bonding over our shared movie choice. Then I asked her out and um here we are?" He ends with a question. As if unsure if "here" is a good thing, it's definitely not but meeting has, unfortunately, brought you both here.

"And when was this?" she asks.

"April 2018" he answers quickly. She nods presumably writing it down.

"How was your relationship before marriage Y/N?" she looks at you now with kind eyes. They are big and dark. Staring right into your soul. It makes you slightly uncomfortable but at the same time you don't want her to look away she's your lifeline right now.

"It was very easy. I work remotely as a translator and an editor, so I've always been able to tag along on his travels and tours. He, um, he always insisted that he rather have me with him even if we couldn't see each other every single day. Just knowing I was near helped him..." you sigh. You don't want to shed tears this early into your session. You don't want Harry to see you cry any more than he already has over your lost relationship.

"I really loved following him around the globe" you add, looking down at your lap willing your wet eyes to dry.

"Any fighting? How did you deal with that?" Trinity is still talking to you maybe even sensing that you're about to cry. Is that what she wants from this?

"Well, yeah. I mean all couples fight, right? We fought over the same things all the time really. I wanted more affection I guess pressuring him to take some time away from the spotlight or he wanted me all to himself whenever it worked with him without thinking of my work. Our jobs were the main reason for fighting between us" Besides you, Harry scoffs before taking another sip of water. Your head turns to him

so quickly that a sharp pain forms in the back of your neck. Your posture immediately tightens, muscles locking and your breath gets heavier.

"What? You don't agree?" you question him in a much harsher tone than you were previously using. He meets your gaze and shrugs.

"I do but that's not all we fought over" he shrugs again not looking away. Is he trying to pick a fight right now? Here of all places?

"Then what? What am I missing?" you prepare yourself for the worst. Ready to feel like absolute shit at anything he might say.

"Your constant jealousy was a contender for the most appearances in our fights" his entire expression is accusatory but he does this thing with his posture. Gets all soft and somewhat blazé making you feel inferior and so incredibly small.

You want to storm out. Call Anne to apologise that it couldn't work out and immediately sign the divorce papers that are permanently placed right on your dining table.

Not wanting to fuel this energy taking over him right now you shrug as well before facing Trinity again. She's watching both of you like a hawk, processing the way you react to conflict with each other. Making mental notes as well as some physical ones all while hostility happens between her clients.

"We'll move on from this for now. Harry, how was the wedding? How did married life change your bond?" this seemingly calms his overgrown ego. His face is neutral again but there's a softness to it now, recalling the happy days.

"We had an Italy wedding. We, I love Italy. I flew everyone out, our families and friends, and then we stayed there for a month more for our honeymoon. The wedding itself was... amazing. We kept it small. Intimate. With my life it's always been hard to have that so, it was important to us" he sounds blissful towards the last part. Probably back there now in his mind. Ah, the good old days as they say.

"I don't think married life changed us much. We were living together before that and we'd been planning it since we got together practically" he stops talking again to take another sip of water. You look at the lady in front of you again and as she begins to open her mouth to probably question him more Harry starts talking again.

"I guess tension started about a year in. The media wasn't kind to her. They made up cheating rumours on both sides and manipulated things to make them seem like something else. Someone even showed up at our old house while I was out" he took a deep breath, cracking some of his knuckles at the same time, "We were always on edge around each other. Throwing these rumours at one another just to I don't know, get a reaction? Plus, we were stuck at home because of Covid and my tour was postponed. It was a real shit show" he laughs bitterly and you nod along to what he was saying. That was just a terrible time. For everyone.

"Then I got to go on tour, Y/N didn't follow along for all of it but she was there most of the beginning. It wasn't the same as before. There was this distance that just never got better. And then she got pregnant" he almost sounds exhausted. Maybe he is, you're not sure how much he's slept lately.

-

Shit. Fuck. This can't be happening now. Shit! The word "Pregnant" seems to be mocking you as you look down at it. Mocking the fact that you and Harry have not seriously spoken in two days and that you're flying back home tomorrow. Mockingly reminding you that this can only make things worse right now.

"Y/N, come on the car is waiting downstairs" your husband's voice is weak through the thick hotel bathroom door. He's performing in Toronto tonight. The second day, the last day before he flies to New York and you go back to London.

You walk out of the bathroom, straight past Harry, not wanting him to read your face and figure out that something is terribly wrong. You slip into your shoes for the night and take a deep breath, no scratch that, a huge breath. Willing your facial expression to cooperate before you turn to him and smile.

"Let's go superstar!" he smiles back and walks over to you. Grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his mouth so he can plant a kiss on the back of it.

"We just might have to cancel tonight if you look this good" his free hand wraps around you tightly glueing you to his body. You know he doesn't mean it but you pretend to consider it nonetheless.

"Mh what about all your adoring fans? Won't they be so utterly crushed?" you tease against his lips. He smiles wickedly before slowly nodding.

"I do have quite the engagement this evening... how about I make it up to you after?" he presses soft kisses to the sides of your face. Framing it.

"That's a pretty good offer, I just might have to tak-"

"HARRY STYLES GET YOUR ASS OUT OF YOUR HOTEL ROOM!!" Jeff's voice is full of annoyance as it cuts you off. Rude.

You laugh before getting pulled out of the room by your husband. The small plastic stick forgotten on the washroom counter for now.

You get a harsh reminder tho when you're back at the hotel after yet another amazing concert. You're laying on the bed completely stretched out and now only dressed in your underwear. Harry's currently using the washroom to try and get some of the remaining glitter off his face when he finds the secret you've kept all evening.

"Y/N, what's this?" his voice is so shaky that you barely even understood what he asked you. However, when you look up your brain catches up. He's in his boxers, left hand in his hair and right hand holding the test like it's made of glass as he looks at it as if it's going to explode. Fuck.

"No chance that you suddenly lost the ability to read?" you try and lighten the suddenly very heavy mood in the room. It fails.

"You're pregnant. How, I mean no I know how. Fuck, you're pregnant" he looks up at you panicked.

"We don't have to keep it" is the first thing out of your mouth. Probably as a panic response to his reaction. Not wanting this to turn into another fight.

"What?! Why wouldn't we, you don't want, I um" he takes a second. He's just breathing heavily while looking at you desperately. "You don't want to keep it?" he breathes out.

"You do?" is all you answer. You stand slowly, finding the clothes you just took off to put them back on. Whatever mood you were in is gone you're now filled with anxiety and a deep fear.

"You leave tomorrow... We won't see each other for what 3 months? In Mexico?" he hasn't moved an inch. Feet seemingly glued to the floor and limbs were frozen.

-

Pregnancy. One of the worst and best times of your life. Your gorgeous baby girl came out of all the pain you suffered. She gave a new meaning to the way you live, made you forget about all the physical pain you endured and...

"Why do you say it in that way? Like you still dread what the pregnancy brought" Trinity's voice almost startles you. You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you'd almost forgotten where you were.

"I don't! I love Anya" his voice is stern.

"What about your wife? What happened during the pregnancy?" she's digging. Wants to find the right buttons to push.

Harry stammers, but no answer seems to satisfy him. His hands are squeezed under his things, his right leg bouncing and his eyes avoiding either of you.

"We didn't plan her, I was right in the middle of my tour. We, um, we weren't doing very good and she was about to go home" he looks at you suddenly surprising you when he meets your eyes. You can't read him, can't understand what he's feeling. You haven't been able to read him in months.

"She- You, Y/N, she got really sick in February the seven-month mark. I was in Australia and I couldn't be there. It really strained us, we fought all the time over the phone and in person. I guess that's really when we went downhill" his jaw tenses when he looks away from you. Looks like he's not happy to have to have shared this with the room.

"Okay, thank you, Harry. I think now's a great time to take a breather. I'll meet both of you individually when we come back. So, see you both here in 20 minutes?" Trinity smiles at both of you and keeps smiling until you both walk out.

-

Harry doesn't come back. You wait 45 minutes in Trinity's office looking like an idiot. She dismisses you with a look of pity on her face before scheduling another appointment 5 days later, lots of work to do you assume. You rush out of the building humiliation creeping into every inch of your body. How could he do this on the first day? It was going fairly well, well you think so anyway... did he give up on your relationship right then and there?

As you make your way to your car you see him. Harry is pacing back and forth in front of his car as he seemingly argues on the phone. His free hand waves erratically in front of him, gesturing like mad for someone who can't even see him. So this is what he's been doing? Arguing over the phone while you sat in a therapist's office waiting to try and work on your ever-crumbling marriage. You scoff before turning away from him and to your car. But nothing seems to be on your side today as your husband hears you and immediately calls out to you.

"Y/N! Why are you leaving?" you hear him walk towards you, the clacking of his shoes getting closer to you but you ignore him and walk away faster.

You're completely focused on your black Subaru, the "You're so Golden" sticker catching your eye and making you more pissed off. Something that was put there because you loved the song, because of how beautiful your husband's voice is in the song but now all you want to do is rip it right off. So, that's what you do.

Your nails claw at the edges of it desperately. You don't want any reminders of Harry on your car, you don't want to think of him while putting the groceries away, while walking around the car after putting Anya in her car seat and you don't want to see it in your rearview mirror anymore. The top corner lifts as you're pulling at it giving you the perfect leverage to rip it right off. You throw it to the ground right before turning around to stare daggers into Harry's eyes.

"45 minutes, Harry. I sat there 45 minutes with our therapist looking at me like a beaten dog!" you hiss at him. He is now only about 2 or 3 feet away from you. His eyes are wide, in shock you guess, as he looks at the sticker. "What could you have possibly been doing for more than an hour that made you forget what we were here for?" you're sure you sound desperate right now. Your head is all over the place and your heart feels like it might explode out of your chest.

"An hour? I, no, that couldn't have been more than-"

"You can go back up and ask her if you want because I really really don't want to be around you right now" and now you're crying. Fuck. Why are you crying now? You need to leave.

While rummaging in your bag for your keys Harry grabs your arm. Well maybe not grabs, he just places his hand on you, resting it there delicately. If you weren't so aware of every single inch of your body right now you wouldn't have noticed. No matter how delicate the touch is supposed to be you flinch out of it aggressively.

"I'm, I'm so sorry Y/N. That was my mother, she, fuck" he sighs and runs a hand in his hair gripping it tightly. "She wants us to go up... she's rented a lake house or something I guess" his voice is so soft, shy even.

"Us? You mean you and Anya?" god you hope so.

"I'm so sorry" is all he answers.

-

Anne Twist is a very difficult woman to say no to. Actually, it's impossible to say no to her. In the many years you've known her, she's always been able to find a way to make you say yes. Always in a good way. She loves you, she has told you that countless times, and you love her but now that you're... the way you are with her son you don't know where you stand. Yet, she has still found a way to get you to agree to something you would have much rather not have gone to. You're in a small townhouse almost 4 hours away from your home in London with your mother-in-law, your daughter and your soon-to-be ex-husband. What has your life come to?

Anya is sitting in her high chair passionately eating banana slices as you watch her. She's already gobbled up the strawberries and pita bread slices she also had for her snack. She's such a good eater always so ready to try new things and taste whatever the adults around her eat. Especially the sweet treats her dad sneaks her.

"Do you want to go take a dip after huh? We should enjoy the water my love" you coo at her as she takes her final bite of food. She smiles at you like she understood what you asked and you chuckle wiping her chubby cheeks and hands. She'll be able to float around in the water for a little bit with you before you put her down for a nap. The steps of your morning are perfectly planned so that you can have your solo Zoom session with Trinity.

There is a small river behind the house you're staying in. The water goes up to just above your breast and it's the perfect warmth at this time of day. You've made your way down to it and are now setting up Anya's towel for when she'll be too tired to entertain you and ready for her mid-day snooze. She's currently lying right by you looking up at the sky with such curiosity, probably trying to figure out what the hell clouds are.

"You're so curious my love!" you shake her gently as you smile widely. "What do you see up there?" as you look up to join her sky-gazing you spot Harry making his way to the river as well. He's only got very short grey swimming trunks on meaning his entire chest, thighs, calves, and arms are out for the whole world to see. Maybe that's an exaggerated statement as you're the only one looking right now. You want to scold yourself for staring, you really really do but he's just so... so captivating and very enjoyable to look at no matter how much you resent him at the moment.

"Mind if I join you ladies?" his voice is more cheerful than when you heard it last. Must be because he's actually speaking to and looking at Anya.

However, when you don't answer his question he looks up at you. Expression now closed off again, how it's always been for the past few months. You smile politely and nod before turning your back to both of them so you can take your robe off. Your swimsuit isn't anything special; simple black one-piece that's high on the hips and low on your back. You think it looks pretty good on you but now you feel very aware of the amount of skin you're showing. You decide to just get in the water hoping its dark colour hides you. Hides away the skin your husband might be looking at.

"Looks like mummy is in a hurry, we should join her. What do you think sweetheart?" Harry picks your baby up and makes his way into the water. He holds her tightly to his chest as he climbs in, just in case he slips on the stones he uses as stairs. Once your daughter's chubby limbs meet the water her mouth forms into an adorable "O" shape. It's the second time Anya's been in the water now so she must still be unsure about this feeling. Harry turns her so that her front faces you and her back is against him. She smiles when she spots you reaching her arms out quickly which splashes some water around. She looks at you with a shocked expression and does it again with a giggle now.

"You little troublemaker! Trying to splash me!" you tease her sending some water her way. She answers with a sweet giggle and shakes her arms around as fast as she possibly can.

"Mh, my jokester gene is strong in her" Harry's voice is laced with pride. You playfully roll your eyes at him and hum affirmatively.

"And her love for singing too" you add remembering so many moments where she hums to any song playing. Her favourite thing to do is to harmonise with her father. His deep voice always gets her attention, always gets her to mumble and hum along with her own lyrics.

"Oh yes, she's the next big thing this one" he affirms kissing the top of her small head affectionately.

It's in moments like these that you tend to forget how bad it is between you. How many horrible things you've shouted at each other not caring how deep your words could cut. The accusations, the insults, the taunts and even the lies still weigh heavy on both of you. You like these softer moments, where you're reminded of how much love you both had for each other. Have? Had? You don't know anything about your feelings anymore, they are much too complicated to understand...

All three of you stay in the river for about an hour more before Anya starts yawning and fussing. When you exit the water you're quick to slip your robe back on still overly aware. Harry wraps the fluffy towel you had gotten ready around your baby. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, her eyelids already heavy as she blinks slowly. You all walk back to the house together silently. Might it be to keep the sleepy baby calm or to keep the peaceful aura around you and your husband, you don't know.

Harry insists that he will put the sleepy girl to bed and that you should take a shower first. After all, you have the first private sessions with your therapist. The mention of her does make the air in the townhouse tense again but Anne appears immediately to kiss Anya before she naps. You use that moment to sneak into your shared room with Harry. Luckily, it has two single beds so you don't have to share with him.

Signing deeply you rid yourself of the now damp robe you had on. Another blessing in disguise, this room has an en suite bathroom so you'll be able to jump right into the shower. Before that you do want to set up your laptop for the video call, you want to be as ready as you possibly can be. You grab your device from your backpack and make your way to the small desk in the corner of the room. There's a bunch of papers scattered around it, one glance at them and you immediately know what they are.

Lyrics. Drafts of songs and melodies written by your rockstar husband. You don't mean to read any of the words you really don't but as soon as you spot your name at the top of one of the pages you're doomed. You put your laptop down on Harry's bed which is right next to the desk and reach for that exact paper.

The words you read are full of longing, pain, sadness and fear. They mourn love, they are mourning your love. You pick up another sheet of paper, this one has no title but there are so many lines written. This one is reeks of self-hatred, of shame and guilt... it shakes the weak barriers you've built around your heart. All of the lyrics you read on different papers revolve around the same emotions. These are all about your relationship. About the death of it. About his desire to turn around. You don't realise you're crying until a tear falls onto the paper you hold. The ink bleeds into itself where it's been wet blurring the words slightly. You quickly wipe your face and put the papers down. You shouldn't be looking at these, you're invading his privacy.

"Thought you were showering" Harry's voice startles you out of the chair. You meet the floor with a loud thud. Your tear-filled eyes meet his sharp ones. Scrambling up to your feet you grab your laptop ready to explain, ready to apologise over and over again.

"At least tell me what you think" he sighs walking into the bedroom and shutting the door behind himself. This shocks you. What does he mean? He, he's not mad? Isn't disappointed that you invaded his creative space? Your mouth opens and closes a few times unsure what you should answer.

"I'm sorry" is all you're able to get out. Your brain is blank in absolute fear but tears keep falling from your eyes.

"I should be apologising... you, you weren't supposed to see those" he walks in your direction slowly, testing the waters of how close you'll let him get. He's closer than arm's reach when you flinch backwards slightly and he stops immediately.

"I was going to ask you for your permission before making any of those full songs but you know music is how I cope" he whispers now that he's so close to you. Silence takes over the room again, stretching out for too long. Your eyes somehow keep producing tears as you try and speak. Hopelessly searching for words to say.

"Do you really miss us? You miss me?" is what you come up with, your voice is so shaky that you're on the verge of sobbing uncontrollably.

This shocks Harry in place, seemingly not prepared for that kind of questioning from you. His mouth gapes and his eyes grow wide. This time you do see his hands start shaking. You're not entirely sure what this emotion is.

"Of course I do. Did you not think so?" while still whispering he reaches out to hold you but stops himself hands falling at his sides.

"Yo- Harry, you asked for the divorce. How was I supposed to know you miss me?" your voice breaks. You don't understand, why is this happening now, why is he saying these things?

-

"We should just get a divorce" Harry snaps at you as he fights back tears. Your expression immediately closes up, your body reacting before your thoughts and words do. Protecting you from what he just said, building walls around you and your heart as quickly as possible.

"Fine" you spit out as you turn away from him and walk straight out of your bedroom. If that's what he wants then so be it. You won't beg for anything now that he's made his decision.

-

"I know, okay? I know that I asked for it and that it's the reason why you don't talk to me anymore. Well, you do but not really" he sighs and sits down on his bed, damn swim trunks wetting the bed "We talk about Anya and when we're not we are yelling at each other... so when was I supposed to tell you that I missed you? That I regretted asking for the divorce..." he looks at you with a guilty expression, all his emotions are coming up at once.

"Why did you ask for it?" you ask him sitting back on the desk chair with your laptop still in your hands.

"I got in my head. You were saying we should take some time for ourselves maybe live apart... with everything that kept being said about us, I got so scared" he takes your laptop out of your grip and puts it down next to him.

"I thought you were going to fight me on it..." he adds as he grabs your hands tenderly. Like he's afraid you'll break.

You shake your head in disbelief not sure what to say. Your thoughts are all over the place, what should you make of this?

"It broke my heart" When did his face get so close to yours? You should really move away. You can't fall back into him, you can't let yourself do that. So you pull away from him roughly, your hands tugging out of his hold, face moving to the side, a sob making its way out of you as your back meets the chair-back.

When you meet Harry's eyes you can see the pain, the hurt, in them. They are brimming with tears that are so close to spilling out.

"Are we... are we too broken?" his voice has dropped to a whisper. He sounds so sad and scared.

"I'm worried" You take in a few breaths before you speak again, "What if we just end up hurting each other again? What if we can't go back?" you choke out the last few words. Tears spill endlessly out of your eyes and sobs rack your entire body.

It feels like you're running out of air and the little bits you get in are painful. Your eyes burn as you cry and your hands are shaking like crazy.

Harry might be answering or trying to communicate but nothing is making its way past your meltdown. What does make it through is the feeling of his arms around you. Him pulling you against his chest tightly, immediately rubbing your back as soothingly as he can. Your hands are grabbing his still bare skin desperately, wanting to anchor yourself in any way you can. Your face rests on his peck, right above his heart, the frantic beating bouncing around your head.

"Breathe, you have to breathe love" he speaks delicately in your ear, breaking through the barrier your body has put up.

"I'm- I'm, I can't... Harry I can't" your clawing at him almost trying to get under his skin, someplace you might be able to understand everything that's going through his mind.

He wiggles around a little before laying you both down as he keeps reassuring and encouraging you. He drags you on top of him your face now pressed up against the juncture of his neck. Your left-hand makes its way into his hair, pulling at it as softly as you can manage. Harry's hands run up and down your back, your arms, and your neck and he even pets your hair delicately. He's always known how to best calm you down... how to bring you back down to earth and out of the panic attacks you sometimes get when you're overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry" he repeats that over and over with a pained desperation. Harry's scared shitless too. He doesn't know how things will go with your relationship. He can't guarantee that you won't end up actually wanting a divorce one day... But he can love you. He has and will keep loving you. He hopes it'll be enough to save your marriage. He'll work incredibly hard every single day to prove his love for you... if you let him back in he won't ever let you go. He'll leave it all up to you. Your little family is all he needs, he'll spend the rest of his life proving that to you if that's what it takes.