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neiptune · 3 days ago

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this town is fake but you're the real thing

cw: 11k wc, female reader, social media relationship, suna downloads an app that randomly matches anonymous users with each other because osamu thinks it'll help him open up more, strangers to lovers, romance, pining, so much texting, suna is as emotionally constipated as it gets

Against all expectations, it’s Osamu who managed to get under his skin.

An innocent night out to celebrate the new Onigiri Miya branch in Shizuoka, a few beers shared on a bench by the port, what started as innocent conversation about each other’s dating life soon turning into a painfully precise evaluation of why he can’t seem to find someone worth keeping around.

“You don’t really open up to them”, his friend shrugged.

“I open up to them plenty. I’ve been with Yuki for three months”, Suna refuted such harsh remark with a scowl.

“Yeah”, Samu mused, “have you ever shared anything about your friends and family? What’s the most vulnerable thought or feeling you discussed?”.

Rintaro took a moment to reflect, begrudging silence weighing more each second spent quiet.

“She met Motoya”.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “Shit, you’re right— can’t believe ya didn’t propose. Meeting Komori’s the real deal”.

“You know, if I wanted to hang out with the twin who’d be a pain in my ass, I would’ve called your brother”.

With a snort and a handsome grin, Osamu lightly bumped his shoulder against Suna’s. “Ya love us”, then his gaze softened as he took a swig from the bottle, “I’m just sayin’. Maybe a relationship is not what you need right now”.

“Then what do I need?”, despite a fiery remonstrance, Rintaro found himself leaning onto Osamu’s judgement. He’d always been very good at reading people, much like his brother, but Samu’s approach was always balanced and, most importantly, sincere. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was something he’s missing about himself, something that shined bright for his best friend to catch instead.

“A connection, dumbass”, Osamu lightly pat his shoulder, “it doesn’t have to be romantic. It definitely doesn’t have to be sexual. You need to find someone you can talk to”.

“I talk—”

“Someone who isn’t us. Not me, not ‘Tsumu”, he ignored Rintaro’s indignant scoff, “not Shinsuke, not Aran. You need to get out of your comfort zone with someone new. A stranger!”.

“A stranger? You want me to stop someone on the street and casually ask them to listen to whatever trauma is tied to my fear of flying?”.

“Start small”, Osamu’s eyes glinted with the excitement that a good idea usually brings, “try that app Bokuto was trying so hard to get Sakusa to download. Matchpal, was it?”.

“Sounds like a great way to have a fifty year old creep flash me with a dick pic. No, thank you”.

“I’d think about it. Ya know, we’re not getting any younger. Like ‘Tsumu said, you—”

“I should hurry up before I grow old with only my emotional unavailability to keep me company, I remember”, Rintaro finished his beer with a grimace. Osamu chuckled, eventually dropped the topic, but the suggestion remained unpleasantly hanging over his head both like a succulent fruit and a risky presage.

So now he’s slumped in the living room of the spacious apartment the EJP provides, a quiet Friday evening spent cooking some stew for dinner and facetiming his family. The tv is on as a distraction and an easy way out should things get uncomfortable. Surely Dwight will keep him grounded.

Suna’s already downloaded the app but it takes one episode and a half to muster the courage to actually tap on it.

The interface is pretty easy to navigate. It seems he’s supposed to create a minimalist profile first and then he’d be free to start a new, random chat. Users can opt out anytime or, if they wish to keep a specific person as their anonymous match, add them as a friend and pin the conversation within their personal directory. Nothing too complicated.

Suna’s patience wears thin easily and after a few attempts at picking unavailable usernames, he settles for crysnoopy. Finally, original enough at last.

Since not revealing one’s identity seems to be the point of the entire thing, he can’t upload a profile picture and instead has to select one random avatar from the default library. He picks a cartoon frog with big eyes and no mouth on a light green background.

There he is, an anonymous online presence on a stupid app. His profile only contains a nickname, he/him pronouns, age and a cute icon. No interests listed, no boundaries, not a single space where he could leave a polite note— please don’t send unsolicited dick pics. Not that he ever plans on requesting one.

Suna starts a few new chats, faceless identities either ending the conversation right away upon his dry and unoriginal hey or being as odd as one would imagine strangers in an anonymous community could be.

Lavenderhaze

-> Hi.

Lavenderhaze

-> How are you?

He sinks deeper into the nice couch pillows Atsumu forced him to get.

crysnoopy

-> hey. all good, wbu?

Lavenderhaze

-> Good, bored.

Lavenderhaze

-> Should we exchange nudes or something?

Rintaro sighs. Hesitation is laced into the delay of his thumb but eventually he taps the skip option, Osamu’s ominous words still ringing loud and clear in his head. It’s not what he downloaded the dumb app for, it’s not what he needs right now. Fuck, maybe he really should’ve called Atsumu instead.

A new chat opens after a short loading time and his nose wrinkles when he realizes that he’ll probably have to send the first message this time. The username staring back at him is original enough to make Suna take a few seconds to think of something equally entertaining to say. The whole thing is never going to work if he doesn’t take it seriously and actually puts some effort in it, right?

He looks up from his phone for a second. Then, a loud ping makes him jump.

Unfinishedusernam

-> When you shower, do you actively wash your legs or just let soapy water rinse down on them?

Rintaro almost huffs out a laugh. Original username and approach? A good enough start to ignite the hope of finally be talking to someone sane.

crysnoopy

-> I don’t shower.

A beat passes, then the small animation of a hand idly scribbling with a pencil indicates that you’re typing something back.

Unfinishedusernam

-> That’s hot.

-> Why the username?

Suna’s lips twitch, not a smile but almost. He wants to type an equally sarcastic reply, brush the question off and maybe ask something more interesting instead. But then he remembers what he’s doing and forces an honest reply out of his fingers.

crysnoopy

-> my little sister used to scream like an eagle when she cried, the one thing that always shut her up was a snoopy plush I won at the arcade.

Suna barely registers that his leg starts bouncing lightly as he watches the little hand appear on the screen once more.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I’m glad it’s something cute :)

-> Lowkey thought you were an incel

This time he really does snort out half a laugh.

crysnoopy

-> if I was I would’ve asked why your username is edging me.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fair. So… you do shower, right?

crysnoopy

-> I promise I do.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Damn, my incel detector has truly failed me.

-> You seem suspiciously normal btw, I feel like we could have a conversation that doesn't involve dicks

Suna’s hand blindly reaches for the remote to lower the volume of the show he currently doesn’t seem to need as additional emotional support.

crysnoopy

-> likewise. wanna make it official?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Jeez, at least buy me dinner first

Rintaro’s beat to it, before he can even click on the option there’s already a colorful notification popping up on his screen, informing that he has a new friend request.

He accepts it.

It took some convincing for Samu to agree but, eventually, the spot on the pull-out couch became his. Between Hyogo and Shizuoka, with imminent plans of further expanding in Tokyo, he’s always travelling to make sure the shops are keeping their top quality standard high. The Shizuoka branch is still too recent for him to retreat back to his hometown for good, so he’s there most of the time. Suna had to call him an idiot a million times before Osamu accepted his hospitality, never one to ask for anything, always first in line to help others instead. Suna thinks he still didn’t call him an idiot enough times.

They’re both gone most of the day anyway, between the restaurant and training. The season is about to start and the trip to Osaka feels more imminent than ever, Suna knows he has to be at the top of his game to perform exactly how he’s expected to. Which means, no distractions. He does a good job at avoiding those, dating apps left unopened and the way home now shorter than usual, to circumvent his favorite bakery. Those blueberry muffins will have to wait. Samu’s healthier alternative with gram oats and bananas is one hell of a substitute anyway.

Suna loves his friend, he really does. The house feels less empty when he’s around and there’s always a homemade meal tucked somewhere in the fridge. They share breakfast when they get up at the same time and night conversations at the kitchen table if Rintaro manages to stay awake late enough to wait for Osamu to be back.

But sometimes, being alone is easier. No explanations owed for the one distraction he seems unable to give up, no curious raise of the eyebrows he’d have to confront when the familiar ping from his phone prompts an immediate reaction the wrong twin would tease him endlessly for.

He’s always been a dry texter or so his friends, teammates and relatives have always told him. Suna didn’t ever think he was supposed to make an effort to become better at written communication, or communication in general. But now, there’s you. A faceless, perhaps not entirely sane someone who makes him check his notifications way too often, insides spasming when the message doesn’t come from one of his groupchats and the Matchpal icon flashes across the screen instead.

Suna likes talking to you, so much that he often finds himself being the one to text first. It’s okay if you’ll take hours to get back to him sometimes, he knows for certain that the message is eventually going to light up his screen and that’s enough to make him smile. Sometimes you text first, at either ungodly hours in the middle of the night or during the day, if you’re bored at work. He doesn’t know what your job is, you don’t know precisely what Suna does either because, again, anonymity. The only detail he’s familiar with is that you’re often around “wearing but rewarding humans”, as you’d once put it. The one thing you know about him is that he’s an athlete, something you had briefly teased him for.

When he’s not talking to you, when parts or even the entirety of days that used to belong to him and his routine alone are devoid of your messages, Suna finds himself thinking. Or rather, imagining. There’s a lot he doesn’t know and he refuses to overwhelm you with questions, therefore his mind desperately tries to fill in the gaps to no avail. Are you spending the evening reading a book, watching a tv show? Did you cook dinner or order takeout? How happy are you that it’s been raining for three days straight on a scale of ‘I can only function if it’s sunny and bright’ to ‘leave me in a storm and watch me flourish’ ?

Most times, Suna simply plugs the charging cable into is phone, switches off the bedside light and hopes to wake up to one of your texts. They seem to be making an increasingly dangerous difference between a good day and a bad one. He’s not entirely sure it’s ideal.

Unfinishedusernam

-> The humans are testing me today. Whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re having fun!

-> Ah, look what my mom baked yesterday. Told her I have a friend who’d love these :)

-> [IMG_65209]

Rintaro, elbows resting on his knees and towel haphazardly thrown around the neck, smiles at the screen. God, he hasn’t had a blueberry muffin in over a month, but what he’s really focusing on is that you’ve mentioned him. To your mom. There’s a low, static buzz in his ears now, punctuated by the thumps of his heart growing louder. It makes you feel more real, it also makes something simmer in his stomach.

crysnoopy

-> I’m at training.

-> They look really good. Send me one immediately. How was family dinner?

He’s enabled auto-capitalization for the first time in his life, for god’s sake. The Inarizaki groupchat was so disturbed Atsumu decided to apply the same additional authenticator method used by his online banking and forced Suna to reply to a secret question. One only the real Suna would know the answer to.

He successfully demonstrated the needed personal knowledge concerning the color of Aran’s lucky underwear in high school and thus confirmed his identity.

Unfinishedusernam

-> It was nice! I love spending time with them

-> How’s training?

Rintaro finds himself wanting to give his identity shape too. It’s the first time he’s seen your hand, holding that tupperware underneath the dim light of your mom’s kitchen. He wants to feel more real for you, too.

He snaps a picture of his hand holding a half-empty water bottle, careful to hide his shoes. Not that you’d be able to immediately tell he plays volleyball from those, but just in case. You do get to see part of his legs though, shorts and their very recognizable colors kept out of frame.

crysnoopy

-> [IMG_65209]

-> Almost done, very tired

He watches as the little hand scribbles, then stops. It resumes the writing, then stops once more. His leg is bouncing again, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He straight up jumps when, suddenly, someone loudly falls on the empty spot next to him and the bench creaks.

“We’re on a roll today, my blocks are almost as good as yours”, Washio grins, temples shining with sweat. He briefly glances down at the phone Suna almost drops when it vibrates against his palm.

“You okay?”.

“Yes”, Rintaro clears his throat, makes a show of shoving the phone right back into his bag, “you’re in shape today. Motoya too”.

“Ready for Osaka!”, Komori fist-bumps Tatsuki right before sitting next to him with an exaggerated groan, “hey, is your friend still in town? The Miya twin. We could go out tonight, get some drinks”.

“We literally leave in three days”, Suna’s fist lightly lands on his teammate’s head.

“Mocktails”, Motoya sticks his tongue out.

“I feel like I already see your faces enough. And I’m about to see them even more”.

“Rintaro don’t be a grumpy asshole, challenge once again failed”, Tatsuki rolls his eyes, “you’re always glued to that damn phone when you’re not playin’. Let’s go out, have fun, possibly get laid?”.

Suna sighs heavily. “Fine. I wanted to visit Samu’s new shop anyway, we can have dinner and take him with us afterwards”. He should get Osamu a gift, a nice plant or a maneki-neko. He’ll stop by a few shops on the way home, he decides.

“Now you’re talking!”, Washio smacks his shoulder with way too much energy, “let’s ask Nagito too, he’s gonna love some free onigiri!”.

“Hey, we’re payin’ for those”.

“Sure we are!”.

“I’m serious, you ass—”

“That’s enough gossiping, boys. Get back to work!”, by muscle memory, their legs react to coach’s boisterous voice and all three men jump up from their seats. Suna spends the rest of the late afternoon training thinking about the text message hidden in his gym bag.

It’s way past 6PM when training ends, the last half an hour was spent studying opponent videos and then simulating different match scenarios. Suna’s brain feels fried and on any other day he’d be so ready to get a massage, eat a well-balanced dinner and melt on his couch in front of a good tv show until his eyelids would grow heavy.

Instead, he takes the long way home, legs heavy as he explores different shops in search for the perfect gift. He settles for a very beautiful, handmade, porcelain maneki-neko, left paw raised instead of the right one because Suna knows Osamu will always care about having more customers who trust his restaurant rather than having more money.

The shop owner puts the gift in an elegant box and seals the bag with a delicate ribbon, he thanks the old lady with a deep bow and despite his limbs feeling heavy with fatigue, as he breathes in the cool air of the evening, Suna is content. He thinks of the message sitting pretty in his pocket as he heads home.

Unfinishedusernam

-> You have really nice hands

He didn’t open it, not yet. It’s reassuring to have the notification sitting there, untouched and polished against his lockscreen.

It shouldn’t matter that a stranger on an app is complimenting his hands, it really shouldn’t. Then why does it, somehow? Suna is happy you find his hands nice, which feels like a recipe for disaster. As he walks past his favorite bakery, he remembers you mentioning how you enjoy grabbing croissants for breakfast at times. When he told you that he was about to leave for a retreat with his team, after asking if their destination was one among Tokyo, Osaka and Yokohama, you proceeded to list all your favorite cafes, bakeries and restaurants for each of them. Just in case he had the time and wanted to check them out. As much as he tries to keep his distance, something as trivial as mentioning the correct city possibly resulting too risky, you always seem to go out of your way to reach closer. Taking the time to prepare three separate lists of suggestions while simultaneously respecting his boundaries is an effort he deems… unexpected. It feels weird in the best way. He almost wants to tell you it’s Osaka after all, give you something real, something new to hold on to. Maybe he’ll even tell you it’s volleyball.

“Coming home from another bad date?”, the unexpected quip startles Suna as he looks up from the sidewalk to find his not so friendly neighbor directing a saccharine smile at him, trash bags in hand. Not too long ago, he would’ve asked if she needed help with those.

“At least I still go on dates”, he purposefully eyes her attire, hoodie and sweatpants. Suna knows she’s just trying to annoy him, she can see the gym bag.

“With women who are blind, deaf, mute and desperate?”, she offers a sly smile and he rolls his eyes.

“That’s not a very flattering description of yourself, now”.

She huffs out a sarcastic laugh but Suna can see right through it: the irritation and the embarrassment.

“Always a pleasure running into you, Suna”.

“Likewise”, he smirks, “careful with those bags”.

Suna says goodbye with an unbothered wave of the hand despite her giving him the finger, positively happy that for a good while the chances of running into his neighbor will be reduced to zero. Osaka can’t come fast enough.

The thing is, he was surprised she lived so close when they first started chatting on a regular dating app. When Suna confirmed they were essentially in the same neighborhood, she was the one to propose a dinner right away.

Truthfully, it had been a bad day for him, for a number of reasons. Training was terrible, he was worried sick about his little sister’s sprained ankle, his own tendinitis was giving him hell and Atsumu had decided to call him to talk his ear off for an entire hour about the surprise party they were supposed to throw for Kita’s birthday. Yet, he didn’t feel like bailing on his date, so he forced himself out of the house with the worst mood.

Dinner was terrible. Awkward, tense, her growing increasingly impatient about his lack of responsiveness, him snapping at the tiniest, dumbest inputs. The entire night ended up being such a disaster she left halfway through her creamy salmon pasta, a few banknotes tucked underneath a glass of water, enough to pay half the bill. He remembers deflating in his seat, feeling terrible for five minutes, finishing his own dinner and then leaving as if nothing happened.

Suna thought about texting, maybe even apologizing, but he just never found it in himself to actually do it. It was just a bad date, bad dates happen. He’d never seen her before, or maybe simply didn’t pay enough attention to notice her presence, so there was no way he could’ve anticipated just how fucking often he’d run into her from that day onwards. She never failed to remind him of her resentment and, frankly, that ended up igniting his.

Of course Osamu’s leftovers are on his kitchen counter, neatly wrapped in tin foil. He remembers how hungry he’d feel after training, so when he knows Suna’s going to be busy until the late afternoon, he always makes sure to cook an extra portion.

Rintaro lets the gym bag fall onto the floor, right next to the couch he drops on with a groan. He’s already showered, he simply needs to change clothes and head out once more. When he checks the latest messages, his brows furrow in confusion.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Still at training?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fuck, sorry, that was probably weird.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I really didn’t mean to sound like a creep

Suna really, actually smiles at his screen. You’re insecure about complimenting him, which is sweet. He should’ve complimented you first.

crysnoopy

-> Just got home

-> You didn’t sound like a creep, I like your hands too :)

His heartbeat picks up in pace when the hand starts scribbling shortly after, indicating that you’re online and were probably waiting for his reply.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Ugh, see? Now you feel like you’re forced to compliment me

crysnoopy

-> No I don’t?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Liar. Here, if you’re sincere, compliment these.

-> [IMG_98279]

A laugh bubbles from his throat when he opens the picture of your feet in a pair of fuzzy fox slippers.

crysnoopy

-> They’re beautiful. I’d kill to have an identical pair

-> So you have nice hands and cool slippers, good to know.

Unfinishedusernam

-> You’re a flirt in your everyday life, aren’t you?

Once again, Suna hesitates. He is, clearly he is. In all likelihood, if he knew you in real life, he would be. You’re nice, intelligent, funny, someone he can easily see himself being interested in. But it’s not what he downloaded the app for, he shouldn’t wander in flirty territory, he really shouldn’t.

crysnoopy

-> Only if they own a pretty set of slippers

When has he ever been good at following judicious advice?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Knew it. Flirt.

-> Can I ask you something?

crysnoopy

-> Ask away

Unfinishedusernam

-> Why are you on this app?

He sighs. Flirty territory is easier than honesty territory. A quick glance at the clock on his kitchen wall instills a sense of urgency as he types a reply, as raw and sincere as it gets.

crysnoopy

-> I wanted to find out if I could open up to strangers more than I do with people I actually know

He really fucking hopes Osamu is proud. Let it be known that he’s trying.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Do you think you could open up to me?

Suna exhales from his nose. This is definitely not the type of conversation he wanted to have while on a rush.

crysnoopy

-> Maybe

-> I’d like that.

He waits for a few seconds, chat gone silent. Maybe you logged off, maybe you don’t know how to reply, either way Suna feels a weight lifting from his chest. It’s true, he thinks he might have a deeper conversation with you of all people. A faceless someone who sends him pictures of stray cats and nice sunsets, who makes him smile at silly jokes. He shortly wonders if you’d like to open up to him in the same way, if being vulnerable will ever be on the table. For now, he’s okay with simply letting you know.

Osaka ends up being extra motivating.

The EJP Raijin players have been training hard, religiously respecting their schedules: there’s no time for slacking off, days punctuated by a disciplined sleep routine, physical and tactical training, cool-down exercises, refuelling afternoons and evenings spent cross-training. The synergy within the team is off the charts, they have won every single practice match played so far and the excitement is palpable as the game with the Black Jackals approaches.

Their training sessions are usually shorter. Atsumu insists it’s because they’re in better shape, Suna’s almost punched him in the face over dinner.

When he’s not too exhausted, against all odds, he enjoys spending some time with old friends and acquaintances. He knows it’s going to be a difficult game, Sakusa is a pain in the ass to block and Inunaki, their libero, is very talented. But he thinks he’s ready.

As they stroll through the city when their free days or breaks coincide, Suna is sometimes hit with pangs of a sentiment not entirely foreign. Nostalgia, regret? He can never tell for certain. He misses having his friends around, being in the same place at all times, travelling less. As he thinks of Osamu currently being the only occupant of his large, painfully empty apartment, while he shares a portion of takoyaki with an ever annoyingly loud Atsumu, when he listens to Bokuto enthusiastically detail his relationship with Keiji, he thinks he’s missing out on too many things and he’s past feeling unperturbed about it.

“Shoyo says he’s very happy in Brazil, asked us to visit soon. Ya should come”, Atsumu lightly bumps Suna’s shoulder with his as they walk by the river, in search of a good viewing spot. The colorful procession carrying portable shrines is quickly filling up the boats to be paraded up and down the Okawa river. While it’s still early for fireworks, oh and bunraku performances are about to begin on different stage boats, and the air is filled with fragrances coming from the endless rows of festival food stalls. What an unexpected fortune, to be in town for the Tenjin Matsuri.

“Not gonna crash on your friend’s couch”, Suna’s peremptory tone makes Atsumu roll his eyes.

“Why are you being so pissy today? What’s up, scared you’re gonna lose?”.

Rintaro searches for something in his friend’s annoyingly familiar, limpid gaze as Bokuto snickers next to him. He finds his own affection, honed by years of joint quarrels, reflected in it.

“Rin?”, Atsumu’s worried now, head slightly tilted to the side. Suna offers a tiny smile.

“Do you ever miss Hyogo?”.

“No”, the answer comes quick, “I miss my family, I miss my friends. Yer ugly face especially. Places are just places”, he shrugs and Suna feels his shoulders relax.

“We’re lucky, we still get to catch up”, Bokuto smiles, “it’s okay to feel sad sometimes though”.

“I’m not sad”, Suna grimaces, “t’was just a question. Shut up”.

“Aw, don’t be shy! Keiji always says owning how we really feel is important”, Bokuto offers him one of his dangos and he begrudgingly takes it.

“I feel like… you should shut up”, he gruffs out. Atsumu snickers at that and Bokuto pouts. Suna doesn’t pay attention to any of them, too preoccupied with taking a decent picture of the boats. He wonders if he’ll be able to make the fireworks look as pretty as they’re in real life, to show them to you.

He doesn’t care that you’ll know where he is, it isn’t but a small part of himself he wishes to unravel for you. It’s what you two have been doing, no? Occasionally sending each other messages that go beyond jokes and memes. You now know he has twins as friends, just how much he loves his little sister, his favorite dish. Suna knows you live close to your family and visit them as often as possible, that you always bring a can of tuna in your bag should you come across stray cats on the way to work. He knows you’re scared of the dark and can’t look at blood without feeling dizzy. You’re trusting, extremely indecisive, a fierce procrastinator, you spend too much time on tiktok and are scared to death you’re not going to be able to keep those who are important to you in your life, forever. Suna gets it, really.

He hasn’t been able to say much, you opened up to him as if it was nothing and he still can’t bring himself to share much more than comforting words and feeble details. Who cares if he likes yakisoba? He hates how detached he feels from everyone else. He feels lonely. He wishes he still lived in the same town as his friends. Sometimes he goes to sleep with the tv left on, to simulate someone else’s presence in a cold, empty apartment. He misses his family, like, all the time. The thought of getting on a plane paralizes him. He doesn’t think he’s good enough at volleyball, his team may lose and it would be his fault. He doesn’t think he’s good enough.

“Taking cute pics for your mystery girl?”, Atsumu grins widely. Suna keeps a composed facade, calmly snaps a few additional shots, but internally he’s screaming. It’s his fault for expecting a twin to keep a secret, really.

“How d’you know they’re not for my instagram?”.

“You haven’t updated your feed in a year”, Bokuto points at his phone screen, sunarin profile open to prove a point. Rintaro almost snatches it from his hand to throw it into the river below.

“She’s not my girl”, he grumbles instead, “just a random person I talk to. It was Osamu’s idea”.

“It was a good idea. I’ve been trying to get Kiyoomi on that app too, you’re both so closed off”.

On any other occasion, Suna would’ve denied that and retorted with an abrasive remark. Not this time, though.

“Yeah. Trying to improve there”, he huffs, to which Atsumu’s ready-to-take-the-piss expression softens.

“Right. So how is she? Can’t remember the last time you texted with a stranger for more than a week before they were either ghosted or became your girlfriend”.

“She’s okay. I don’t know much”.

“Everyone on Matchpal is anonymous”, Kotaro fills in Atsumu’s knowledge gaps.

“She has to be more than okay if you’ve been talking for over a month”, the older Miya insists, prodding mercilessly at Suna’s discretion.

“She’s funny”, he finally concedes, “and smart. Makes opening up to a stranger look too easy”.

“Smart? Okay, ya definitely wouldn’t be her type then”, part of the tightness in Suna’s chest dissipates as his fist collides with Atsumu’s arm.

“I think that’s the point, though. You don’t know each other and will never meet, so you can admit things you wouldn’t normally mention. Be vulnerable”, Bokuto finishes his dangos and crumples up the small disposable cardboard box they came with.

“Yes but at this point she doesn’t really feel like a stranger anymore”, Suna pauses after saying that out loud, surprised by his own words. When has he stopped considering you a faceless someone on a random app, exactly? He realizes he’s given you a voice in his head. A smile he imagines reacting to his lame jokes, when he deflects tentative personal questions. He’s given you a routine, shared most of his. You don’t feel like a stranger anymore but you’re not exactly a friend. What are you, then?

“Uh-oh”, it takes a moment to realize that the teasing sound comes from Bokuto. Crap.

“And we could meet”, Suna pushes, “Shizuoka is not that big”.

“She’s from Shizuoka? Christ”, Atsumu lets out a low whistle, “does she know you live in the same city?”.

“She never asked”, if the justification sounds odd, his friends are kind enough not to point it out. He doubts Osamu would be as lenient. Truth is, he didn’t ask either: after some time, you had just randomly disclosed the information, probably because you perceived him as a very discrete person. Which, for the record, he is.

“I’m going to ask you this question just once. Do ya like this girl?”.

“No”, obviously not, “I don’t even know her”.

“Oh? But you just said she doesn’t feel like a stranger?”, Bokuto’s eyebrows shoot up.

Suna sighs. His limbs feel heavy but it’s a different feeling than the one he gets after practice, more draining.

“He’ll figure it out”, the weight of Atsumu’s hand on his shoulder feels weirdly comforting.

I don’t know what she feels like, Suna wants to say. He settles for saying nothing, as the hold on his shoulder grows tighter for a split second.

Coach is going to have an earful ready for Motoya if he doesn’t show up on time at practice, in the morning. He’s still out celebrating-drinking with other teammates, their first Tenjin Matsuri an excuse good enough to be late. Suna doesn’t mind having the hotel room to himself for the evening, a welcome novelty: he just hopes he won’t have to drag his friend out of bed the following day.

His hair is still wet, the bed way too comfortable to consider getting dressed. You, a distraction that fills his stomach with fuzzy warmth, something that for a second makes him forget why his phone has been exploding with notifications.

It’s that stupid instagram post he decided to share after a year of semi hiatus, online presence proven only by the occasional story he’d upload. Suna feels particularly caught in his feelings today, so why not post the selfie Atsumu took by the river? His comment is pinned at the top of the section, with over 8k likes.

miyatsumu brothers ❤️

Bokuto left a heart too, Samu and Kita some of their usual simple but genuine comments. Love you guys. Miss you :). It’s easy for them, a skill he wants to master as well. It’s not enough for the people in his life to simply know that he loves them, Suna wants tell them more.

He takes a look at other comments, smiling faces with heart-eyes emojis and inappropriate compliments from strangers that make him laugh. He shortly wonders what your instagram looks like. Filled with pictures of you with your friends and family, no doubt. A feed that showcases your favorite food and places, creative outfits, witty captions and sometimes no captions at all. It’d fit you.

His phone pings again.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Osaka!!!!

-> Fuck I’m so jealous, I never got to see the festival :( did you have fun?

crysnoopy

-> I did. Some old friends are in town too, we’re playing against each other soon

Unfinishedusernam

-> Your friends are also athletes???

-> Now I feel bad, this is literally how I’m spending the evening

-> [IMG_62371]

Suna smiles upon opening the picture. You’re sitting on your couch and the hand not holding the phone is doing a V sign, a lidded tray balanced on your legs, tv channel set on a show he’s never been interested in. The lights are dim, the room doesn’t seem too big but it feels so cozy. The way a home should feel. He sees a coffee table and some lit candles by the tv unit.

crysnoopy

-> Looks like a perfect evening to me

Unfinishedusernam

-> I only walked 200 steps today.

crysnoopy

-> I’m like trying really hard to find something nice to say

-> Every morning is an opportunity to create a masterpiece called life?

-> Stop surviving, start thriving?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Fuck you for making me laugh, I almost dropped my dinner

He laughs as well, out loud, then double taps your message to like it so that you know he’s still acknowledging it, despite something more urgent suddenly prompting the quick movement of his fingers.

crysnoopy

-> Hey, remember when we talked about how you’re really scared of losing the people you love?

Suna can almost sense your surprise, it’s evident in the way the little scribbling hand appears and disappears repeatedly as you probably try to think of something appropriate to say.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Yeah?

crysnoopy

-> I feel that too

-> Most days I wake up thinking I’m a bad person

Another pause. This must be the most exposed he’s ever felt and Suna is grateful your replies are not as fast as they usually are because his hands are suddenly cold, palms clammy and disgusting.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Why do you think that?

crysnoopy

-> I don’t do enough to show how I feel and one day that could make them leave

-> Maybe stability isn’t for me and that scares me

-> I get bored easily, I don't want to commit. What if what’s regular, easy for everyone else will never be my thing?

Well, that’s a whole lot of fucking baggage he just dropped on you. His first instinct is to apologize, to ask you to just forget it, deflect with some joke about having had too much to drink and being in his feels. But he doesn’t do that. Why? What makes him want to trust you with all that? Perhaps it’s just curiosity, wanting to find out what a complete stranger would think of the thoughts that eat him alive at night. Maybe he’s hoping for some miraculous solution offered on a silver plate. Or he just wants to check if he’s able to even do the whole being vulnerable thing in the first place.

Your response comes after a couple minutes and Suna doesn’t remember the last time he felt so nervous.

Unfinishedusernam

-> How did you meet your current friends?

He furrows his brows.

crysnoopy

-> Most of them I met in school

Unfinishedusernam

-> So they made the conscious decision of being your friends every single day, all this time

-> Btw getting bored easily is okay. A bad person wouldn’t be asking those questions about himself :)

-> You can always work on what you want to improve

crysnoopy

-> You make it sound too easy

Unfinishedusernam

-> Sometimes it really is tho

-> You’re not too late, you know. Tell your friends that you love them, tell your family that you miss them

Unfinishedusernam

-> It doesn’t have to be easy right away

-> You get to make your own regular. Create your new normal

Suna exhales, reads your messages over and over again. It’s oddly comforting realizing that he is, in fact, not too late yet. Why does he always think that he is?

His phone pings again.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I think you’ll find a person you’ll want to commit to

-> That’s what I tell myself after all my failed dates anyway lol

-> Remember, be the change that you wish to see on tinder

Suna snorts, heart lighter in the hotel room he sits alone in. He could get drunk on the relief suddenly filling his chest, it feels like the touch of a cool hand over a feverish forehead.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Still there?

crysnoopy

-> I’m here

How could he not be?

crysnoopy

-> Thank you

Unfinishedusernam

-> How’s opening up to a stranger feel? :)

Good, if the stranger is you. Apparently.

crysnoopy

-> Mysteriously comforting

-> How are you failing those dates? Do I have to beat anyone up?

Unfinishedusernam

-> Nah

-> It just seems the guys I’m into are never into me

crysnoopy

-> That sucks for them

It really, truly, actually does. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt as comfortable sharing something so personal over text, it’s all so natural Suna is convinced he’d be able to do that in person as well. How would it feel to meet you? Would the magic wear out, is this so easy only because an anonymous profile on a silly app?

Sure, Suna doesn’t know your name or what you look like, but that doesn’t make you a stranger. He knows you enough for the words to almost spill out of his hands, words that press threateningly against the pads of his fingers.

He’d be into you. He’d date you. That’s what he wants to say: there’s no need to know how you look or the name printed on some documents, he knows enough. It’s a weird feeling that scares him and clouds his mind for a brief moment, as he waits for your reply.

Unfinishedusernam

-> That’s sweet of you to say!

-> Last time I went out with a guy I really liked it was a disaster

-> He also lived pretty close to me, thank god he moved now

crysnoopy

-> Well, joke’s on him. He’s missing out big time

Unfinishedusernam

-> Stop being cute, I’ll fall for you

Suna takes a sharp breath. Reading the words does something funny to his stomach, something Atsumu would tease him for.

Shit, Atsumu. The game is so close. When’s the last time volleyball disappeared from his brain like that, with the snap of invisible fingers? Can he afford being this distracted?

Unfinishedusernam

-> This dinner fucking slaps btw

-> They opened a new place in my city, add that to the list of spots you have to visit if you swing by shizuoka

-> It’s called onigiri miya

Suna chokes on his own spit so badly he thinks he’s gonna die as he abruptly sits up, coughing fit that brings tears to his eyes. He stares at his screen in disbelief, sudden reminder of how tangible and close you actually are burning like a slap in the face.

Samu picks up after a few rings, it’s late enough for him to be either still in the shop or getting out of the shower.

“Hey, what’s up? Saw your pic with that scrub—”

“Did a girl come to the shop today?”, the question is uttered with so much urgency the line goes silent for a few seconds.

“My day was great, thanks for asking! I’m okay, eating dinner on your couch right now”, the fake singsong tone makes him roll his eyes.

“I’m sorry, this is an emergency. She just told me she was at your shop today”.

“Really? Did she like it?”.

“Osamu”.

He chuckles lightly.

“Okay. First, please tell me why we care so much that she came to the shop today?”.

Suna loves his friend, he really does. Sometimes he wishes he was close enough to be punched in the face. “Stop being a dick”.

“Fine. A girl did come to the shop today”, Suna’s heart almost stops, “… along with a million others”, he deflates against the pillow once again, defeated. He knows it’s something he really shouldn’t do but he still sends the picture to Osamu, slightly cropped to leave out everything that’s not useful to the investigation. The two things his friend gets to see are your dinner and a V sign.

There’s a pause, one Rintaro swears is filled by the loud pounding of his restless heart.

“I know who she is”, Osamu speaks quietly, in a tone that leaves no room for sarcasm.

“What?”, Suna’s voice comes out thin, incredulous.

“I remember her. Came in as I was about to close the shop, bowed and begged for whatever leftovers I might’ve had. She looked like she had a horrible day, so I just…”.

“Put something together for her”, as you always do.

“Yeah! I usually don’t use those trays but I didn’t have any of the regular ones left”.

“Well, how is she?”, Suna cringes at the impatience vibrating in his voice, it makes him sound desperate. Osamu hums, it’s a voluntarily prolonged sound that makes him scoff.

“She’s really sweet. Apologized a million times, left a generous tip. I think you’d like her”.

“Yeah?”.

“Yeah, Rin”, he’s smiling, “I also think you should tell her”.

“Tell her what?”.

“That you want to meet her, dumbass”.

Suna runs a hand through his now dried hair, lightly ruffles it. This feels dangerously real now, something he could grasp if he so much as decided to hold out a hand. You’re so close. There’s something else simmering underneath the fear and Rintaro recognizes it easily. It’s an almost forgotten eagerness that he’s not entirely stranger to.

“Samu”.

“Hmm?”, he’s smiling again. The asshole.

“I think I like her”.

“No shit”, Osamu full on laughs now, jovial and relieved. Despite the annoyance, Suna feels the exact same way.

Shizuoka seemed different upon his return, an endless pool of possibilities where something would inevitably remind Suna of you. He’d made peace with the fact that he had a crush on someone he’s never met and with that truth also came an endless list of associations his brain couldn’t help but make.

Texting you first, whenever he wanted, became natural. What’s more, it was almost as if you were encouraged by his newly loosened state, that one evening in Osaka opening the floodgates of something else, something different. You trusted him with your most intimate thoughts and so did he. There was no more wondering if you were bothering each other or texting at an unconvenient time. You’d once told him you felt self-conscious about that specifically.

Unfinishedusernam

-> Sometimes I feel like I’m too much

-> Would you tell me if I was too much?

crysnoopy

-> What do you mean?

Unfinishedusernam

-> You know, if I was pestering you

crysnoopy

-> You’re not too much

-> And even if you were, I could handle you :)

You were the happiest when he had told you they’d won the game in Osaka. Heck, you baked blueberry muffins (“to celebrate!”) and asked him to go get himself one so you could pretend he was there to eat yours. And Suna did: he got up from his bed, grabbed a jacket, put on some running shoes and made his way to his favorite bakery with a dopey smile on his face. He then suggested a toast and, what a coincidence, you happened to have a bottle of white wine left unopened for the longest time. The occasion seemed worthy.

And so you both ate and drank and celebrated until his cheeks felt hot and your texts started lacking proper grammar. Suna remembers how it felt, slumped on his couch, lights low and mind dizzy as his eyes blinked and blinked and then blinked again while the message sat on his screen, black against white. He just stared at it, not entirely able to discern reality from fictitious.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I wish you were here

-> I’d probly just kiss you

Suna remembers staring at his screen as a wild joy exploded in his heart and took over his entire chest, scorching and vibrant like festival fireworks. He stared at it for so long he still doesn’t quite recall if he wrote the reply or if the reply wrote itself, because the only other solid memory in relation to that moment is drifting off with an empty bottle of wine precariously balanced on his lap.

He woke up the next morning with a sour taste in his mouth, a throbbing headache and sore neck. His phone had fallen to the floor and when he picked it up, it was with a heavy heart that he noticed you hadn’t replied.

crysnoopy

-> I want nothing more

-> I’m from shizuoka too. let’s make it happen?

It wasn’t unusual for one of you to leave the other on read and it wasn’t like Suna to hyperfixate on not receiving a reply but this time, for some reason, it felt different.

As he got up with a groan and shuffled to his bathroom to take a shower, a strange feeling of dread strangled his body from the inside, his mind running a million miles a minute. Were you disgusted? Mad, that he had kept his location a secret? That would’ve been unfair, though, and you had always proved to respect his boundaries. Maybe it was all a joke, then. You thought of all that flirting as nothing short of a game, something stupid to pass the time with a stranger online. Something that wasn’t real. Worse, something you’d never want to be real, especially if given the chance to make that happen. Fuck.

Suna succeeded in keeping himself fairly busy for a few hours that day: he cleaned his whole apartment, did some meal prep, called his mom, called his sister, even called Atsumu. Your silence kept throbbing at the edges of each minute, it became so unbearable he ended up sending you a picture of an aspirin package with a funny caption, to test the waters.

You never replied. Not that day, not the following day, a week later your chat is still painfully empty. Or rather, filled with all the messages he’s sent before giving up.

crysnoopy

-> Killer headache town, population: me

crysnoopy

-> How are you feeling?

crysnoopy

-> Hey, everything ok?

crysnoopy

-> I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

-> I was really tipsy, I didn’t mean it

crysnoopy

-> Or at least I didn’t mean to sound so pushy.

-> I’d never pressure you into doing anything, let alone meet me

crysnoopy

-> I’ll give you space if you need it, can you just please tell me that you’re okay? It’s been three days

crysnoopy

-> Okay. I’ll be here if you ever come back.

He’s so mad at you. Weren’t you the first one coming forward with all that stuff about wanting to kiss him? Why would you disappear? He’s apologized, what else can he do? Was it all seriously worth so little to you?

Suna feels as if the days are longer now, training unbearable. Instead of keeping his mind occupied, all it does is remind him of how badly his blocks suck lately. He doesn’t pick up when Osamu calls, he’d read everything there’s to read in his seemingly inexpressive tone. He’s mad at himself, for not noticing how stupidly attached he’d become. Is it normal to miss you so badly? He doesn’t remember the last time he missed someone just as much. The world is cruel in relentlessly reminding him of you: an advert you’d find funny, that movie you’d recently discussed making a comeback in cinemas, sunsets painting the sky in orange and lilacs so similar to the ones you’d send him, a pair of fuzzy fox slippers on display in a shop window on the way to the gym.

The toxic part of his brain is ruthless in reminding him that this is why he refuses to open up to new people. That this is why he never lets himself be actually vulnerable and simply plays along: it’s because he’d be left with nothing but mockery, humiliation and loneliness.

But Rintaro doesn’t want to give that part of his brain any more solidity. What he wants, is to be proud of himself. Relieved, even. He wants to feel happy for having been brave enough to take a risk, to trust, to open up. He wants to relish in the joy that the brief encounter with you, anonymous and all, gave him. So what if you never come back or talk to him again? That’s on you. He’ll miss you for a good while, will probably always wonder what you’re up to from time to time, but he’ll be okay. You gave him much more than what you’re probably aware of and truth is, he’s grateful. He just hopes you’ll always be okay too, he hopes life will treat you well. He hopes you don’t regret trusting him with your most intimate thoughts, ever.

It’s not like he doesn’t reread some of your messages, to keep himself company. The most recent ones still have the not entirely pleasant effect of twisting his insides. He’ll have to delete that folder of screenshots eventually.

Unfinishedusernam

-> I’m so glad I stumbled over you on this stupid app btw

Unfinishedusernam

-> You’re sweet, snoopy :)

Unfinishedusernam

-> Today was shit

-> Sometimes I think about how it’d be to have you here, at the end of shitty days

Unfinishedusernam

-> Stop flirting with me, it’s working

Unfinishedusernam

-> I feel so slilly

-> can you evne like someone you nevee met?

Turns out, you really can. He just never fully got around to telling you properly.

And then, one day, Suna’s blocks don’t suck anymore. In fact, they’re just as good as they’ve always been. He speaks with Osamu on the phone, a little bummed that his friend doesn’t have another trip to Shizuoka planned anytime soon: the shop is doing great, his presence is no longer required as often.

“I’ll miss you”, Rintaro still remembers the stunned silence following his words, “come back soon, shop or not”.

The younger Miya twin paused his ministrations, hands sticky with rice, and offered a surprised chuckle, “I’ll be back. Ya can also take a train every now and then, ya know?”.

“Maybe I will. Hey, next time you plan a trip to Osaka, can I come too?”.

“Hell yeah. I wouldn’t have to endure that dickhead alone”.

He talks to Kita and Aran way more these days: when he thinks of one of his friends, he simply grabs the phone and reaches out with a text, a meme or a funny reel. It seems to make them happy.

When his mom tells him that Kaori has been relentlessly asking about visiting her older brother, Suna assures her that he isn’t too busy to accomodate her for a week or for however long she wants to stay. Even if he was, he’d make it work. His mom clicks her tongue, gives her approval for a weekend only, less her daughter falls behind her homework even more. He grins when he hears Kaori scream MAKE IT TWO WEEKENDS in the distance.

Suna hasn’t seen his little sister in months and despite their relationship being exhaustingly conflictual (they are way too similar to each other and she gets a kick out of pissing him off), he loves her deeply and she trusts him just as much. Sometimes being home without him can become a lot and it’s not like she ever directly admits it but he’s pretty sure Kaori misses him, the little gremlin.

He was already 14 when she was born and little Rintaro had faced the news of a new addition to the family (a female, no less!) with infinite crankiness. He huffed and puffed and complained about having to share a room and a bathroom throughout his mom’s entire pregnancy, then a pink little bundle of dark hair and eardrum demolishing shrieks held his pointer finger in her tiny fist for the first time and he swore to guard her with his life, forever.

Suna wakes up extra early to clean the bathroom and his room, which he’s going to give to his sister, and make it girl-appropriate. He always goes on a tiny shopping spree before she visits: kitchen cabinets are now filled with her favorite snacks, there’s a colorful set of strawberry handcream, lotion and lip balm on his nightstand, a sweatsuit set neatly folded on his bed, the expensive vanilla body scrub their mom wouldn’t get her sits pretty in the shower.

He texts her before heading out for practice, demands she keeps him updated about her position. Kaori send a thumbs up and the picture of the blurred view outside the train window.

Unfortunately, as it often happens, coach announces the team is required to stay longer than he had anticipated and Suna doesn’t dare explain that he’s actually in a terrible rush because Motoya has been playing like shit and, of course, that becomes everyone’s problem.

“Get it together, man”, he hisses, way less patient than usual. Komori pouts.

“I’m trying”.

“Try harder!”, Washio snickers from the other side of the court.

It’s not until an hour later that Suna can dash through the gym doors, already forty minutes late to the appointment his sister had agreed on in the morning. When he notified her about the extra training, she didn’t falter.

-> No worries, I’ll find the house.

The train station isn’t at all far from his apartment, a mere 15-minute walk, but Kaori hasn’t visited in a few months and she’s not exactly known for her acute sense of direction. She’d get lost in her own house if it wasn’t impossible to achieve that in a small two bedroom apartment.

“Why is your damn phone going to voicemail?”, Suna grumbles to himself in the middle of the street, torn between running to the station or straight home. It’s not dark yet but the sun has set and Kaori knows very well the one thing she’s never allowed to do is turn her phone off, especially if him or their mom are not aware of where she is.

Right as he decides to head to the train station first, he hears her voice. There’s someone taller with her, which makes the hairs behind his neck stand up right away.

“Kaori!”, he damn nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes towards his sister in the opposite direction, gym bag almost falling off his shoulder while she chats with god knows who without a care in the world.

“Rin”, she stops right in her tracks, “sorry, kinda got los—”

“Why the hell is your phone turned off?”, as if to underline his point, he impatiently taps on his phone screen a few times, another call interrupted by immediately going straight to voicemail. He only now realizes how breathless he sounds.

“Battery died, I forgot my charger at home”, Kaori juts her bottom lip out. She’s the spitting image of her brother. “I was lucky to meet your friend right outside the station”, she looks up and so does he, features morphing into a horrified expression. Out of all people.

“You… what?”, Suna doesn’t know what to say. Was his neighbor even capable of smiling like that?

“It was nothing! We had fun, didn’t we?”.

Kaori nods. “We fed some stray cats on the way here. It’s so weird that you had canned fish in your bag, though”.

“I always carry some! Didn’t you see how hungry Mochi was?”.

For the following seconds, Suna is incapable of uttering another word. It becomes weird enough for his neighbor to wave a hand in front of his face, brows furrowed.

“Suna?”.

“Yeah”, he replies on autopilot, “Yes. I mean, thank you. Kaori, let’s go”, he eyes his sister’s large, pink, glittery backpack. Hanging from his neighbor’s shoulder.

“Uh, actually”, his sister coughs.

“What now?”.

“I kinda need to use the bathroom”.

“You can use it at home? It’s a ten minute walk from here, let’s get going”.

“I kinda need to use it now”.

“Kaori”, he sighs, “it’s ten minutes”.

“I live right here”, the woman from his nightmares indicates the house behind her, “wanna make a pit stop?”.

“Absolutely not”, Suna clears his throat, “she can hold it”.

“She can’t”, Kaori shrinks in herself a little, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Fine, I guess we are making a pit stop”, he mutters and his sister exhales in relief, grabs his neighbor by the sleeve and urges her to open the door, quick quick quick please.

Suna watches his sister dash upstairs with a snort as he takes her backpack. It’s heavy as a rock. The hell did she put in there?

“You’re not gonna catch fire if you come in, you know”, his neighbor fixes him with a sarcastic glare as she takes off her shoes, letting her own bag fall to the floor.

“Sorry for the trouble”, he steps in at last, with a low grumble that allows a chuckle to surprise him.

“Don’t be too hard on her. She was panicking, I offered my phone but she didn’t remember your number. I asked where she was supposed to go and when she mentioned the neighborhood, I inquired about her brother’s name. Pretty lucky, huh?”, she’s not looking at him, busy taking off her jacket as well. Suna’s gaze softens.

“Yeah, really lucky. Thank you for taking care of her”.

“I also have a younger brother, I know what it feels like”, she smiles, looking at him at last, “one time we went to a festival without our parents, he thought it’d be funny to play hide and seek without telling me. I think I aged ten years that night”.

“She also used to run away so much as a kid. It’s in our blood, I was the exact same”.

“Doesn’t surprise me for some reason”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”.

“I’m done, we can go now”, Kaori hops down the stairs, two steps at a time, then glares at her brother. Golden, foxy eyes narrowed. “You’re not being rude, are you?”.

He rolls his eyes but, before he can reply, someone beats him to it.

“He’s never rude to me. We’re friends, remember?”, Suna watches her wink with a smile so warm. Is that really the same person he runs into almost on a daily basis?

Astonished, he witnesses that little, usually quiet, reserved gremlin smile back at his neighbor. Then, remembering how important formalities are in their family, she thanks her with a deep bow. It’s only then that he notices them: fox slippers. Cute, pointed ears, bushy tales and everything.

They both jump when the steel water bottle hits the parquet flooring, Kaori dramatically clutching her chest. “Can you not be a weirdo for five seconds?”.

His neighbor (could it be…???) furrows her brows in genuine confusion. “I think volleyball finally started affecting his brain. Better take him home”.

“Yeah. Let’s go, loser”.

“Shut up, be thankful mom’s not here”, he fires back, fake annoyance to cover the fright that gnome’s actually caused. Suna’s heart is racing for an entirely different reason as he takes another furtive look at those slippers while pushing Kaori out the door, mind racing.

He is completely, absolutely unable to focus. Over dinner, he distractedly listens while his sister paints vivid pictures of boring classes, the art course their mom wants her to give a chance to, the latest fight she had with her best friend. He asks questions and fails to register the answers he gets, over and over again. It’s a relief when Kaori sprints to the bathroom, calling the shots for who gets to shower first. Suna is left rinsing the plates, with a brain that can’t think.

Would it be possible? You’re from Shizuoka. You have those exact slippers. You always feed stray cats. God, the fucking slippers. What are the chances?

He could call Osamu, ask a few questions. Instead, his sister’s voice keeps chipping away at what’s left of his sanity.

Your friend’s cool. I wish my teacher was that nice.

A teacher. Could kids be the wearing but rewarding humans you often mentioned?

He goes back to that disastrous dinner, desperately trying to recall how the conversation felt. What did they even text about prior to that evening? Was that woman as charming as you are? Fuck, he doesn’t remember a single word exchanged that evening. He just remembers being an asshole.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes”, from her comfortable spot on the couch, Kaori watches her brother march to the front door, then bend down to put on the same shoes he wore a few hours before, “lock the door, don’t burn the house down”.

“Where are you going?”, her brows are knit in confusion, never in worry.

“None of your business. Lock the door”.

“Sure, sure, bye”.

“Right now, Kaori”, something in his weirdly brisk tone makes the fourteen year old pause the show she’s watching, not without a dragged groan, and get up from underneath the blanket she had stolen from her brother’s room.

You’re so ready to go to bed early and declare the day officially concluded.

Work was tough, managing a new classroom of overexcited kids had proven to be particularly difficult. Between the increasing pressure from school administrators and the daunting task of creating engaging lesson plans for the new semester, you felt a heavy weariness threatening to swallow you whole.

As you brush your teeth, tired reflection staring back at you, he worms his way back into your thoughts once more. Saying that hearing his name and then seeing him again was unexpected would be an understatement: you were absolutely convinved (and thankful) he had moved. Where the hell did he disappear for over a month? Just to come back and show up like the annoying, irritating nuisance he is. One you can’t seem to whisk away.

Your date was one of the most disappointing nights of your life. Suna, the guy you had talked with for days, the same Suna who was so witty, intelligent and nice, was also just so blatantly uninterested. Bored. He didn’t even make the effort to ask about your day, eyes distant whenever you tried to initiate a conversation. And of course, because life hates you, you have to be reminded of that night every single day because you now see him every single day.

What’s more, you had failed the one person you’ve been able to feel interested in after that big, fat disappointment. Someone who just found himself trapped in the crossfire of your thoughts and stupid, stupid fears. Someone you were selfishly not ready to have so close. Someone wonderful who didn’t deserve your self-serving worries.

You’re already in your pjs when the doorbell rings multiple times, so insistent you almost trip down the stairs as you hurry, terrified that you’re gonna have to face an emergency with pandas printed on your pants.

“What the hell?!”, you instinctively step back as he leans forward, his entire weight resting against the doorframe.

“Sorry, I know it’s late”, Suna takes a deep breath but it’s not really needed. Prior warmup or not, he isn’t at all affected by the sprint through which he covered the distance between his house and yours. “I just had to… hey, can I come in? I’m probably gonna have a heart attack if I don’t sit down”.

You’re staring at him wide-eyed, completely startled.

“Yeah? Sure, come in! Is your sister okay? Did something happen?”, you’re quick to push the door closed as he heavily flops on your couch.

“No, no…”, Suna seems distracted for a moment, eyes scanning the room and zeroing on your tv, which is currently turned off. He stares at it for a while, then lets out a small laugh. “Actually, maybe it’s better if I stand up”.

“Suna, are you on drugs right now?”, the question is serious but his eyes, now fixed on you, don’t reveal any particular emotion besides genuine… amusement?

“I need to tell you something”.

The odd idea that he might be hiding a knife somewhere underneath that leather jacket crosses your mind for a split second.

“Sure…?”.

“When my sister was a baby, she’d cry a lot. I legit thought my ears would explode at some point”, he weighs the words carefully as he approaches you and, for some odd reason, you don’t take a step back. “She’d cry so much, all the time. And then, one day, I brought home a snoopy plush I won at the arcade. It became the one thing that would always shut her up”.

It feels like someone’s toppled a bucket of ice cold water over your head. Suna is standing so close while looking at you in a way you’ve never witnessed, a way so uncommon for him. You can’t focus on the desperation in his eyes and you’d never guess the hopefulness simmering behind a gaze that seems to be discovering you for the first time.

“It’s you”, barely a whisper, but it’s all the confirmation he needs. The relief in Suna’s exhale is intense as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in. Thank god he does, because your knees feel so wobbly.

It’s a weird sensation, being pressed against him, hanging onto his shoulders for support. He’s warm and smells so good, of bergamot and musk. Your brain can’t quite comprehend that he’s the person you’ve been talking to for the past months.

“I missed you. I’m sorry”, he confesses in the curve of your neck and the words dissolve underneath the thin fabric of your pjs, slowly sink into your skin and bones. “I’m so sorry”, he says again, carefully pulls back to look at you, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort. Mirth flashes across his features for a moment. “Hey, are you about to throw up?”.

“No, of course not!”, you take a tentative step back but he doesn’t trust your stability and keeps a gentle hold on your arms, “why are you apologizing? I disappeared. I should be the one… I should be…”, Suna’s gaze softens, one hand rising up to touch your face but then freezing mid-air, deciding against the risk of freaking you out even more.

“Please don’t cry”.

“What?”, you retort, “I’m not crying. Ew”, but when you touch your cheek, it’s shocking to find it wet. What the fuck.

“Oh, god. Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me”, a dry chuckle bubbles up from your throat, “listen, there’s no pressure on you. I’m sure this is a real disappointment so, like, we can pretend it never happened and just go on with our lives. I won’t—”

“Are you sure it’s you? The person I’m looking for is pretty clever”, he attempts a smile when you frown, familiar at last. “You think I’d leave my sister alone and race all the way here for a real disappointment?”.

“I think you just wanted to corroborate”.

Suna rolls his eyes, incredulous. “Well, I corroborated. I’m only gonna pretend it never happened if that’s what you want, because it sure as hell isn’t what I want. If you even care about that”.

You angrily wipe your tears, cheeks burning scorching hot with embarrassment. “I didn’t expect you to be so close. I freaked out. I’m freaking out right now because you’re even closer, apparently”.

“Are you disappointed?”.

You look at him, really look at him. His dishevelled hair, naturally narrowed eyes, the bridge of a perfect nose, full lips forced in a severe line. He’s searching for something in your gaze, with fierce determination. How can one person’s eyes be so penetrating? You feel naked, exposed. Vulnerable.

“No”, you reply, sincere, “no, I’m not”. If only you could feel the relief taking over his chest. “But… what now?”.

Suna feels as if he’s seeing you for the first time and, at the same time, it’s like he’s recovering something important, something precious. He’s already trusted you with some of the most important, hidden parts of himself. He hasn’t liked someone that way in such a long time and he’ll be damned if he lets this chance pass by. Again.

He’s not too late. Why does he always think he is?

You curiously watch as Suna takes his phone out and spends a few seconds tapping on it with a smile he can barely hide.

The familiar ping of a notification you haven't heard in weeks makes you stutter.

crysnoopy

-> Now we do this right.

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x you #hq x reader

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bat-mom-writer · 2 days ago

Text

Closet Confession

Reader(Wife) x Bruce Wayne\Batman(Husband)

Summery: You married Bruce because he wanted a mother for the boys. But you and Bruce are more like "rivels" then lovers. But one evening, you and Bruce are stuck in a closet. Leading to feelings being revealed and a spicy\angry make out.

Note: No explaining how you got stuck and didn't really want to write it.

If you want more loving and sweet arranged married coming together. check out Not Just A Mother

Rating: Angst, spicy(no smut), happy ending

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Can't you back up at all? I'm practically squashed between you and the wall." you complained, trying to wriggle out of the tight spot.

Bruce's eyes searched the darkness of the closet, his hand brushing against the cold, metallic shelf. "I'd love to, but I'm afraid there's not much space in here."

Your breaths mingled in the cramped quarters, a stark contrast to the cool, antiseptic smell of Alfred's freshly laundered clothes surrounding them. You felt the tension in the air thicken like a fog, heavy and palpable.

"You just don't get it, do you?" your voice grew a little louder, your exasperation clear. "It's like you're trying to fill every corner of this space. Can't you just, I don't know, shrink for a second?" Bruce chuckled softly, the sound reverberating against the confined walls. "Well I’m sorry. Being 'too big' is not something I can control, like certain other aspects of my life." He paused, his hand still resting on the shelf. "But here, I'm just as trapped as you are."

You rolled your eyes, the darkness hiding the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. "Oh, poor billionaire with all the gadgets in the world, stuck in a closet. What a tragic fate."

"Poor billionaire's wife, complaining that her husband's too "big." You know, I know plenty of woman that would pay top dollar for that problem." Bruce quipped, trying to get his footing on the crowded floor.

"I'd probably sale that problem to them, just to get some peace around here." you grunts as Bruce accidentally steps on your foot.

"Sorry," he murmurs, his voice tight with frustration. "Its like Alfred shoved everything in here, making sure we couldn't fit."

"Great analyses, world's greatest detective." you says with sarcasm.

Bruce's grip on the shelf tightens, the metal groaning under the pressure of his hand. "It's not my fault Alfred's apparently has a vendetta against closets," he retorts, his voice echoing slightly in the small space.

You can feel the heat of his body against you, and you suddenly aware of how close they really are. Your heart starts to race, not entirely from the claustrophobic situation. "Well, maybe if you weren't so obsessed with your superhero persona, you'd realize there's more to life than gadgets and brooding." You contention. You let out a gasp as you slipped and out of insinked grabbed Bruce's suit, leading for both of you to lose balance and fall into a heap on the floor. "Fucking damn it," Bruce mutters under his breath, his frustration with the closet and your ongoing argument reaching a boiling point.

"Just, both of us stop moving," You whispers, your voice unusually soft and steady. "Alfred will come along, and then we can both get out of this cramped closet."

Bruce's eyes, adjusting to the darkness, find yours. He nods slightly, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You’re both still, the only sounds your mingled breaths and the faint hum of the Wayne Manor's HVAC system. You feels the warmth arm over your head to lean against the wall. It's a strange comfort, one that you not used to from Bruce's usual stoic demeanor.

The silence stretches on, filled with the weight of their unspoken words. You can feel the tension between you too, a coil of energy that's been wound tight for far too long.

"I wonder if Dick's got the boys under control," You says after a moment," Can already imagine them turning the manor into a battleground."

Bruce groans, his face hidden in the shadow, "Why do you do that?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Do what?" you asks, genuinely puzzled.

Bruce sighs, his frustration seeping through the darkness. "Always talk about the boys. Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian. It's like that's all you care about 90% of the time. The other 10% of the time is because of something I did wrong."

Your brows furl, confusion and a hint of anger, “That’s not true, Bruce.”

Bruce's hand, which till leaned on the wall above you, tenses. "Isn't it?" His voice is low, a challenge in the darkness. "You're always there for them, playing the mother figure, and here I am, stuck in a closet with you for once, and all you can think about is them."

You have a flash of anger, "Speak for yourself, all you do is train them, work with them, patrol with them. That's where all your attention is on."

Bruce's eyes narrow, "They need me. You know that. After everything they've been through…" "And they need me too, Bruce!" You exclaimed, the frustration finally spilling over. "Jason's still dealing with his past, Tim's trying to find his place in the world, and Damian… well, you know how he is. And Dick, trying to juggle his own life and this mess we've made together." You pauses, your chest heaving with emotion. "They're not just your sidekicks or your protégés. They're our family!"

"You don't think I know that!" Bruce exclaims, his voice echoing in the closet. His hand slams against the wall, and you can see the flash of anger in his eyes, even in the dim light. "They're my responsibility, my legacy. But you… you're supposed to be my partner, my confidant, and here you are, more concerned about them than about us."

You’re eyes widen, and feeling the sting of his words. "You're…! You're just a workaholic in a bat costume!" You yells back, your voice bouncing off the walls. "You can't even take a moment to realize that I need you too!"

Bruce's grip on the shelf turns white-knuckled, his jaw clenched. "Is that what you think of me?" he asks, his voice strained. "That I don't care about you?"

"I don't know! All you ever seem to care about is being the Batman!" you spits out, your anger palpable. You feels the heat of his body, the warmth of his breath against your cheek. "Never caring to be my husband."

Bruce opens and closes his mouth, his nose flaring with anger when suddenly, without warning, he pulls you into a rough kiss. The kiss is fueled by a mix of anger and passion, a stark contrast to your heated words. Your initial shock quickly turns to confusion, but you doesn't push him away. Instead, you finds yourself responding, your own frustration melding into the kiss. Your lips move against each other in a silent battle of wills, hands fisting in clothes and hair. It's as if all the unspoken resentment and longing has been funneled into this one, intense moment. You tastes the mint from his toothpaste, feels the stubble on his chin scraping against your skin. It's raw and real and everything you didn't know you needed.

"I fucking hate you," you murmurs into the kiss, your voice muffled by his insistent mouth. Bruce's grip on you tightens, pulling you closer until there's not a sliver of space between them. "I hate you too, now come here." he growls, the words vibrating against you lips.

Your kisses become more fervent, their bodies pressed together as if trying to bridge the gap that's grown between them. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, digging in, pulling him closer still, as if you could somehow absorb him into yourself and end this constant cycle of fighting and misunderstanding.

Bruce's hand slides down your back, cupping your hip, his other hand tangling in your hair. He deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fierce hunger that surprises you. Your own hands find their way to Bruce's chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. Your nails dig in slightly, a silent protest to the way he's been neglecting you in favor of his nightly escapades. But the feel of him against you, the taste of him, it's all so intoxicating that you can't help but melt more into the kiss.

Bruce's mouth leaves yours to trace a hot path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. Your pulse quickens at the sensation, a shiver running down your spine. You arches your neck, giving him more access, and he takes it eagerly, kissing and nipping at the tender flesh. "I love you," he murmurs against you skin, his breath hot and urgent. "I love you, I love you." Your eyes flutter closed as you feels Bruce's teeth graze your neck, the sensation sending a bolt of desire through you. "I love you too, you fucking…" you starts to say, but the words get lost as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. You gasps, your nails digging father into his shoulders.

His kisses become more feverish, your breathing harsh and erratic. You can feel the fabric of your clothes sticking to your sweat-slicked skin, the heat of your bodies threatening to ignite the very air around you.

Suddenly, the door to the closet creaks open, flooding the space with light. Alfred's shocked "Oh my," pierces the haze of passion that has enveloped them. Dick and the other boys, peering in, have wide eyes that dart from your neck, already sporting dark bruises from Bruce's passionate kisses, to you tangled limbs on the floor. The sight is like a cold shower, abruptly jolting you back to reality.

Dick, ever the responsible one, quickly jumps into action, turning to shield the younger ones from the scene. "Well, we found you, so… we're just gonna…" he says awkwardly, as he uses his foot to gently close the door, his voice trailing off as the darkness swallows you once more. You and Bruce freeze, your breaths heavy and mingled.

You stare at each other, the reality of your situation crashing down upon them like a tidal wave. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Well… shit," you murmur, breaking the silence that had descended upon you like a thick fog.

"Yeah, you could say that again," Bruce agrees, his voice gruff with embarrassment. He gently pushes himself off of you, his hands lingering for a moment before retreating. You both sit up, trying to smooth out your clothes and regain some semblance of composure. The closet feels even more claustrophobic now, the air thick with tension and a newfound awareness of each other's bodies.

You laugh nervously, the sound bouncing off the walls. "So, how do we explain this one?" You ask, glancing at the closed door.

Bruce runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the closet. "I don't know. Maybe we just say we were… uh, practicing CPR?" he suggests, his cheeks darkening.

You snort with laughter, "On my neck?" The absurdity of the situation hits you like a punchline, and suddenly, you're both laughing, the tension of the moment dissipating like mist under the glow of humor.

"Maybe we should just stick to the truth," Bruce suggests, his own laughter subsiding into a chuckle. "They've seen worse."

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your smile. "True," you concede, "but it might be a bit awkward at dinner."

Bruce's eyes meet yours again, and you see the mischief in them, the same spark that had first drawn you to him. "Then we tell them for breakfast," he jokes, his voice low and filled with a playful challenge.

You smack his shoulder, "You're terrible," you giggle, the tension in the air shifting to a lighter, more comfortable atmosphere.

Bruce grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Well, I'm serious. Can't tell them at dinner when we won't be there."

You stare at him for a moment, the gravity of his words sinking in. "What do you mean, 'we won't be there'?" You ask, your laughter dying in your throat.

Bruce leans back against the wall, his expression serious. "I mean, I know we've had our… issues lately, but I want to fix that. I want us to have a real date, just the two of us." His hand finds yours in the darkness, giving it a squeeze. "I'll take you out to the city, show you a side of Gotham that isn't all doom and gloom."

You blink in surprise, the warmth from his hand spreading through your body. "A date?" You repeat, your voice still a little shaky from the passionate interlude.

Bruce nods, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently. "Yeah, a real one. No masks, no crime fighting, no children drama, just us."

You can't help but smile at his earnestness, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the cramped space. "Okay," you whisper, "that sounds… nice."

Bruce's smile widens, and you feel his hand squeeze yours. "It'll be more than nice," he promises, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "I'll make sure of it."

#batman #bat family #dc universe #bat boys #dc fandom #batfamily #bruce wayne x reader #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #bruce wayne's wife #bruce wayne #bruce x wife reader #stuck in a closet #angst with a happy ending

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ssentimentals · 17 hours ago

Note

hii! can you please do woozi with soft prompt #28 ><

the way this is sososo about woozi is making my head spin!! thank you of course for requesting, hopefully you will like it! 💜

fluff prompt: 'look at you, so small and cute.' 'shut the hell up.'

when they said costume party, you immediately thought of paired costumes with jihoon. you also immediately thought of how he's going to hate it, but girlfriend privileges are strong and you are not above of exploiting them for your advantage. 'we have to go, baby! please!'

jihoon shakes his head without even looking. 'no.'

puppy eyes are a dirty tactic, but they always work; you try to use them only in extreme situations and this situation is extreme, because you really want to go and you want to go with your boyfriend.

'look at me. jihoon!' when he finally turns around, you attack him with your best puppy eyes. 'please?'

jihoon's left eye twitches. '...okay.'

jihoon likes to pretend that he's hating it, but in truth he doesn't even put up much fight. if he really didn't want to he'd make sure to let you know, so when all he does is just whine, you continue with your pursuit of finding best matching costumes. jihoon is obviously being dragged along as well, because it's more fun that way and because you know he's never going to wear something that he didn't approve before hand. 'are you done baby? come out?' you ask, twirling in your pretty blue dress. 'i'm ready, take a look!'

when jihoon walks out, you instantly coo despite his annoyed expression. 'look at you, so small and cute!'

jihoon grimaces. 'shut the hell up.'

you are meant to be alice from alice in the wonderland and jihoon is dressed as a mad rabbit and it's... brilliant, in your opinion. costume looks great and bunny ears on top are really doing the god's work of making him look adorable. too bad he doesn't agree though. 'i am taking this off.'

'nooo,' you whine, coming closer. 'but it looks so well and we're matching, see?'

jihoon rolls his eyes. 'i look horrible.' he then takes a good look on you and his frown gets replaced with a small smile. 'you look beautiful, baby.'

you grin, wrapping your arms around him. 'thank you, i really like it. don't you want to match with me?'

it's puppy eyes, of course. it's dirty and you promised to use it only in extreme situations, but this is one. jihoon tries to reject you, you can tell. his jaw is clenched and he looks like he's battling hard, but it's a lost battle, you both know it. with a resigned sigh, he nods. 'yeah, okay. let's buy this one.'

jihooon may act all grumpy, but when you cheer and kiss him, he's smiling into the kiss because your happiness is contagious and because your happiness is his priority. 'let's go to the cashier.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

#seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen reaction #woozi #woozi seventeen #woozi x reader #lee jihoon imagine #seventeen lee jihoon #woozi fluff #lee jihoon fluff #svt woozi #svt lee jihoon #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen prompt

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pandapetals · 2 days ago

Text

The Wolverine

You tell Logan about the myth of the Wolverine.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: Im sad that logan doesn't remember kayla. She deserved better, well both of them did. So i wrote this for her. I did some googling and found in Innu culture they see the wolverine in a few different ways so i took that and ran with it.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

You were curled up in the oversized armchair on the balcony, wrapped in a soft blanket, gazing out over the garden bathed in silvery moonlight. The stars sparkled overhead, scattered across the sky like tiny, far-off promises, casting a gentle glow over everything. Logan sat beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders, thumb tracing slow, absent-minded circles along your upper arm.

After a comfortable stretch of silence, you let out a quiet sigh, eyes still fixed on the stars. "Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, you know? Studying literature. Maybe I should’ve gone into astronomy instead." You paused, a small smile playing on your lips. "Stars are just so beautiful. There’s so much out there."

Logan chuckled, a low, warm sound that rumbled through his chest. "Oh yeah? So you could spend your days talkin’ about constellations and meteors? Think I’d go crazy, darlin’."

You nudged him playfully. "Oh, because listening to you ramble about ancient battles and military strategies is so riveting."

He smirked, tilting his head down to look at you. "Hey, at least I know how to make it interesting."

You rolled your eyes, leaning into him a little more. "Sure, you do, tough guy." After a moment, you tilted your head back to the sky, the light of the stars casting a soft glow in your eyes. "But, really... I've always wondered. Why Wolverine? I get the whole 'fierce and growly' thing, but it’s oddly specific."

Logan gave you a look, a playful warning in his gaze. "Watch it, sweetheart," he drawled, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked back out over the garden. "Truth is… I’m not sure where it came from. Can’t remember. Might’ve been ‘cause I was a… well, an animal. Felt like one back then, anyway."

You reached over, resting a gentle hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're not an animal, Logan," you said softly, your voice filled with quiet conviction. "You never were."

He let out a faint sigh as if he didn’t fully believe you, though he appreciated the sentiment. "Maybe not," he murmured, his gaze drifting back to the stars. "But it sure felt like it sometimes."

A peaceful silence settled between you, and you leaned your head against his shoulder, watching the stars glitter above. "Did you know," you said softly after a moment, "that in one Innu legend, the wolverine was actually a creator of the world?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking down at you with a skeptical smirk. "Now you’re makin’ stuff up."

You laughed, nudging him again. "I swear! It’s true. According to the story, the wolverine built a boat to save the animals from a great flood. Then he told a mink to dive into the water and gather mud, and he used it to create an island. That island eventually became the whole world."

Logan shook his head, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "You always gotta turn everything into a story, don’t you?"

You grinned, looking up at him with a twinkle in your eye. "I can’t help it. It’s what I do." You paused, then added, "There’s another story that says the Wolverine tried to steal light from the midnight sky. He fashioned bits of it into the sun, moon, and stars, creating the northern lights. Kind of fitting, don’t you think? A wolverine bringing light to the world."

Logan looked at you, amusement and something deeper flickering in his eyes. "You got quite the imagination, you know that?"

"Comes with the job," you teased, snuggling closer, resting your head on his chest. "But honestly… you bring light to people too, Logan. Even if you don’t see it. You’re gruff, sure, but there’s a big heart under all that scowling."

He huffed, though his chest rumbled with a laugh as his fingers absentmindedly traced circles along your shoulder. "You’re really layin’ it on thick tonight, aren’t ya?"

"Just stating the facts," you replied, looking up at him with a grin. "You’re kind of like the stars. Tough on the outside, but warm and steady when people need you most."

Logan’s gaze softened, and he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek as he looked down at you. "If that’s how you see me… guess I can’t argue."

You smirked, snuggling back into his chest. "See? Not so bad being the wolverine, is it?"

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Guess not," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. "Not if it means sittin’ here with you under these stars."

You looked up at him, eyes twinkling with playful warmth as you took in the way the moonlight softened his rough edges. "Who would’ve thought?" you whispered with a teasing lilt. "That the Wolverine could be more than just a trickster… that he could be gentle, even thoughtful."

Logan let out a low, skeptical chuckle, giving you a look that was both amused and exasperated. "Oh, is that so?" he rumbled, his voice a soft, low vibration beneath your cheek. "Here I thought I was just some ornery old fighter."

You chuckled, reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble. "You’re definitely more than that. There’s a lot more to you than the tough-guy act. There’s… heart, kindness." You paused, smirking as you added, "Though the ‘ornery old fighter’ part is pretty accurate."

He let out a mock sigh, though his eyes glimmered with affection. "Don’t push it," he muttered, pulling you closer as he looked down at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in a reluctant smile.

You shifted slightly, resting your chin on his chest so you could look up at him. "You know, in some stories, the wolverine’s not just a trickster. He’s a protector. Fierce, unyielding. The one who keeps everyone safe, no matter what."

Logan’s eyes softened, and he reached up, brushing his thumb along your cheek as he gazed down at you. "So you see me as some kinda myth, huh?" he murmured, his voice low, almost vulnerable. "Better be careful, sweetheart. I’m just a man, remember?"

You smiled, covering his hand with yours. "Oh, I know," you whispered, your voice tender. "But you’re my myth, Logan. My hero. The one who showed me what real strength looks like."

For a moment, he looked taken aback, his usual composure slipping as he took in your words. Then, his gaze dropped, as if the weight of your affection was almost too much to bear. "You say all that… but sometimes I still feel like a lost soul," he murmured, his voice rough. "Someone who didn’t know where he belonged."

You cupped his face, guiding his eyes back to yours. "You belong right here," you whispered, your thumb tracing his cheek. "With me. Right where you’re supposed to be."

A soft, genuine smile played on his lips as he leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. "Damn, darlin’," he muttered, his voice barely more than a rumble. "You’re gonna make me go soft."

You laughed, brushing a gentle kiss against his lips. "Too late for that," you teased, smiling against his mouth. "I think I’ve already uncovered the soft side of the Wolverine."

He rolled his eyes, but his hand found yours, his rough fingers intertwining with yours as he brought your hand to his lips. He pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles, his gaze warm and unguarded. "You really make people question my reputation, you know that?" he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, am I ruining your whole 'grumpy lone wolf' image?" you teased, grinning up at him.

Logan pretended to be annoyed, though his eyes sparkled with affection. "Damn right, you are," he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Can’t go anywhere without folks thinkin’ I’m a softy now."

You leaned in, your face close to his, your smile teasing. "Well, maybe you are.”

He let out a low chuckle, pulling you even closer, his arm secure around you. "You’re lucky you’re cute," he muttered, his thumb brushing over your hand. "Otherwise, I might actually be annoyed."

You looked up at him, your heart full, and whispered, "I think you’re cute too, even if you try to hide it."

He groaned, tipping his head back. "There goes my whole reputation," he said, but when he looked back down at you, his gaze was filled with warmth, something so genuine that it made your heart skip a beat.

You squeezed his hand, giving him a playful smile. "Good.” You grinned, closing the small distance between you and kissing him, slow and sweet, letting the world fall away. When you finally pulled back, he was looking at you with a smile so genuine it made your heart skip.

"Happy?" he asked, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder as you both gazed out at the stars. "Always, with you."

#fluff #logan howlett #wolverine #x men logan #x men wolverine #logan x reader #james logan howlett #hugh jackman #the wolverine #logan wolverine #logan james howlett #marvel #hugh jackman wolverine #logan x fem you #logan x fem!reader #days of future past #professor logan #professor logan howlett #logan howlett fluff

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 2 days ago

Text

Reunion - Friends

Masterlist

Pairing: Dick Grayson x (f)reader

Tags: SFW, platonic, friends, jealousy, feelings, blood, death, crime, guilt

It's been a week since your embarrassing parting with Dick. Since then, you threw yourself into your work and studies. It was difficult to rip yourself away at first, but the longer you kept at it, the easier the routine became. Each day became structured, starting with the gym, then classes, studying, and your internship. On top of that, you and your friends always had something planned for weekends or evenings, so you were seldom bored as you were kept plenty busy.

The routine drew you back to your old self, the one that was comfortable and wasn't concerned about the intentions or treatments of some man. It felt great!

Today, you were attending your first jury duty selection. You fixed the collar of your blouse and flattened your palms down your blazer, then skirt, taking one last look in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. You were still going over the transcripts of your case as you made your way to the courtroom, not careful of where you were going. As a result, you bumped into a hard wall of muscle. "Mph!" You blinked a couple of times, adjusting to your surroundings. "Sorry!"

Said wall turned around to face you. He wore a brown leather jacket over a black t-shirt, with his detective badge tucked on the side of his belt. And he smelled like old spice, all six feet three inches of him. Your friend Tony smirked down at you. "Sup dude?"

He started law school with you and then transfered to the police academy when he decided he wanted a more "hands on" approach to fighting crime.

You grinned up at him brightly, opening your mouth, ready to greet an old friend. But then you remembered where you were and composed your festures quickly. "Good morning, Detective Ericso-"

"Oh, don't give me that shit." Tony groaned before puling you into a bear hug. "I'm off duty. Plus, I'm still a cadet."

"Well," you looked down at your now disheveled outfit. "I'm not off duty. So I have to be Profesional." Then you smiled excitedly. "I have my first jury duty selection today."

"No shit." He snapped his fingers in an exaggerated way. "Look at you, miss lawyer!"

"I know," you channeled Monica from friends as you couldn't help but grin at him. He was always a ball of energy.

"Listen, a couple of friends are meeting at Richmond's tonight for a beer. Come with us." He said.

"I..." you began to think of your plans in the evening and came up short. "Okay, I'm free. What time."

He rolled his eyes. "Around eight. And as if you had any plans to begin with, you studious loser."

You raised your arm to smack his, but then you made eye contact with an important looking man in a suit and lowered it again. "Eight. That's when i finish my day. I'll see you there! I gotta go now."

"You better!" You heard him say as you opened the door and stepped into the courtroom.

The couple of friends Tony had mentioned turned out to be two young cadets and Dick grayson.

You froze for a mere second when you walked in through the familiar doors of the bar. It was odd, yiu realized. You expected to feel a pang of something upon seeing him, but... you felt something mild. It was not pain, just... acknowledgement. Tony spotted you and waved you over. When Dick followed his friends' gaze to you, he offered you a shy smile. Surprisingly, you were very comfortable offering him one back.

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Dick smiled suggestively at you, tilting his head in the direction of the bar. "That guys been eyeing you since we sat down."

You, along with the rest of the table, turned to see who he was talking about.

At the bar, facing your table, a group of young men in suits sat drinking beers. Finance guys, by the looks of them. Not exactly the Bruce Wayne high fashion enterage, but they could have been consultants for a big firm. One of them - a cute blond with gelled hair - saught your gaze and gave you a small nod before raising his bottle to his lips. The gesture made you smile back before turning back to the group. "He's cute."

"Go talk to him." One of the other cadets, Anna, gave you a light nudge.

"Nahh." Dick drawled, leaning back in his seat. "She doesn't have to. The guy's making his way over here right now."

And surely enough, a moment later, the blond suit showed up to your table, clearing his throat. You looked up and met his gaze.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked you, glancing to the open chair beside you.

You shook your head.

"Lucky me." The blond grinned a charming grin and sat down beside you. He had a gorgeous pair of green eyes, a chiseled jaw peppered in a three day stubble and beautiful full lips that seemed really kissable. You looked down at your heart, wondering if you were really that much of a lightweight so as to be so affected by a man.

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Dick was happy.

He was happy you were comfortable around one another again. Happy your could talk to each other and laugh together. Most importantly, he was happy that you were happy. He watched you and the finance bro chat and laugh to each other, smiling at one another's jokes, exchanging contacts. Finance bro began to brush your knee with his fingers as his gaze became a little bit more heated.

You didn't seem to mind, Dick noticed. In fact, if the slight blush on your cheeks was any indication, you enjoyed the attention. You offered him a timid smile, biting down on your bottom lip.

Dick felt his smile falter.

Oh no.

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You laughed into your wineglass as your friend Tony reached to give Dick a light smack upside the head. Dick dodged at the last minute, and Tony missed.

"Dicky, how is it possible that after that many years on Earth you've never seen Harry Potter?!" Tony asked, incredulous.

Dick shook his index finger in return. "Na uh, you don't get to judge. You haven't seen Love, Actually -"

You smiled to yourself. Of course Dick Grayson was a love, actually enjoyer. You pictured him watching the romcom and tearing up at the emotional scenes.

"Dear god!" Tony dropped his head into his hands. "Apples to oranges, man! Y/n, help me out here - oh yeah. I forgot you're busy being in love."

"You're so dramatic." You murmmered, looking at your phone. "I'm literally emailing my prof."

"Oh? A contender for finance, bro?" Dick raised his brow suggestively.

"Wouldn't you like to know." You smirked. "And 'finance bros' name is Eric."

Dick raised his hands in mock surrender for in truth. He really didn't care. He also didn't like that you called finance bro by his name. He was finance, bro. A faceless fuck. Not Eric, some guy whose name, personality and life you possibly knew.

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Dick was ready to knock Tony out if he mentioned finance boy one more time. He sat on your apartment floor, wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that you knitted him as his secret Santa.

Tony sat gleefully in his hanukah sweater that your friend got for him. He was positively drunk when he raised his half finished glass of beer and announced. "I have an announcement."

The rest of the people at your apartment went quiet, patiently waiting for Tony's next words.

The young man smiled, opened his mouth to speak, and let out a long burp. The room burst into groans and murrmers of disgust.

Dick was too busy receiving an emergency alert into his earpiece.

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Dick arrived at the bank just as the day surrendered to the night. The sky above Gotham was tinged in dark blue as the bank’s alarms blared into the street.

"I’m at the location, Oracle," he murmured into his comm.

"Roger that," Barbara’s voice came through. "Security cameras show several men in ski masks inside."

"Copy." he replied, scaling the building in silence. He scanned the scene through a window: two civilians - a mother clutching her child - and a bank teller stood cowering in the corner as the masked robbers rifled through drawers.

"Need any backup?" Tim’s voice cut in.

"Negative, Baby-bird. This’ll be quick," Dick replied, his voice steady. "Enjoy your Christmas eve."

"God, he's so sappy." His brother, Jason, groaned into the comm.

"Police are en route, Nightwing," Barbara updated.

"Thanks."

He took out his batons and moved into action, precise and controlled. This was second nature - an exercise he could do in his sleep. Within moments, he had incapacitated the leader and taken down the four remaining men, who barely had a chance to react. In under a minute, every robber was either knocked out or tied up. Just as Oracle said, the police cars pulled up a moment later. Armed officers running into the bank, followed by a stoic commissioner Gordon walking in.

"Oracle, any more assailants?" Nightwing asked, breathing a little harder as he led the mother and teller toward the exit, carrying the giggling child in his arms. The little boy poked his chubby finger against Dick’s cheek, and despite the situation, Dick found himself smiling, cooing gently to reassure him.

Then, a gunshot shattered the air. Dick froze, his heart plummeting as a horrible, familiar dread took over.

"No!" he gasped, handing the child back to his mother before sprinting toward the sound.

As he rounded the corner, he saw it: one of the police officers lay in a spreading pool of blood, a discarded gun a foot away from a handcuffed robber. The scene played out, each detail sinking deep into his mind. He couldn’t look away. But... how? He's either tied or knocked all of them out!

He stumbled to Commissioner Gordon, who was kneeling beside the officer, hands trembling slightly as he took in the fatal wound.

"Is he…" Dick’s voice caught.

Gordon stood, his expression etched with grief. Slowly, he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, drawing in a heavy breath. "He’s gone, son."

The weight of those words felt like a punch to the gut, hollowing Dick out from the inside. This was what he fought against, what he trained his entire life to prevent - and tonight, he had failed. Despite every life he’d saved, it hadn’t been enough.

Hours later, Dick trudged back to his apartment, feeling like a ghost. The image of the fallen officer haunted him, replaying every step of the night until it blurred with exhaustion and guilt.

As he opened his fridge and reached for a beer, Batman’s voice came through his comm, quiet and firm. "Nightwing. What happened tonight wasn’t your fault."

"Yes, sir," he replied, swallowing against the lump in his throat, the words barely audible.

“Dick… I've gone over your body cam. You did a good job incapacitating them. It was just bad luck." Bruce’s voice softened.

"I know," he whispered, his grip on the bottle tightening.

A heavy silence hung between them before Bruce added, “Get some rest.”

The comm went silent, and Dick felt something inside him finally break. The weight of his grief, the frustration, the helplessness - all of it spilled over as he sank to the floor, alone in the dark, and let himself cry.

#batman #batboys #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson #nightwing x you #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader

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niceonejames7 · 1 day ago

Text

the vices of mice

james potter x reader

fluff, friends to lovers(?)

warnings: none really

content: james didn't envision his second date with you to involve so many......rats?

a/n: i kinda hate this ngl, ive looked at this too long. terribly nervous to post but fuck it we ball

Mice.

No offense to Wormtail, they were not James' favourite. But unfortunately, actions always have consequences, and this was it. Mice, popping up in their room, out of nowhere! Someone has retaliated to one of their pranks, and as hilarious as it was to watch Sirius jump around before he had the idea to turn into Padfoot and run away, it had become a nuisance, just in the span of a day. Sirius had made it very clear he wasn't scared of them (he definitely was) which "comforted" Peter (no it didn't, it was very clear that he was scared).

Remus had very explicitly said he would not do it, because he respects his friend's kind. But when after a week, the mice had taken over the dorm, running over sleeping bodies, ruining clothes, eating hidden stashes of sweets and chocolates, it was very clear what needed to be done. The predicament became much more severe when Sirius started wailing about his "lost hair" which had been "eaten by the rats". That's because it's shedding season Pads, Remus jokes.

Some would say this was a diabolical move, as the announcement to finally get rid of the mice was made on a Monday, the exact Monday when it was James' turn to keep the dorm clean, an exercise started by Remus. Previous week, it had been Remus's shift, but the full moon had rolled around, and James didn't have the heart to accuse his friend. If he can go through the extensive process of becoming an animagus, he can get rid of mice, though the former was a much more interesting project.

But this was not his biggest worry of the week, as surprising as it must be.

James had gone on a date.

And now he wasn't sure how to ask for another one.

Oh, the horror.

It had been a week since the date, and you had had a great time. The date had been a success, even though you were pretty nervous. James and you had known each other for a while, and it took much coaxing from Sirius and Peter and a particularly meticulous plan made by Remus to get you two to go on a date.

Now, both of you shut out again, a game being played on who will ask first. Bit of you wanted to win, but the paranoia of losing was much too great.

Two days went by but there had been no progression. Remus, again, had to take matters into his own hands.

"James, just go ask her out. She's not gonna say no!" He exclaimed to the bespectacled boy, who was now rolling his fork to capture his noodles in a spiral, but as he lifted his fork they fell down and James took a bite of a single noodle. But he kept his vision glued to yours. You were unaware of your admirer, or as Remus put it, stalker.

"Actually, I don't care. Just get rid of the rats." He said, shooting a quick apologetic glance to Pete which he responded to with a wave of his hand. He slung his backpack and began leaving the Hall, with Sirius and Peter hot on his tail. James took his time, finally took a few bites of his food and started cleaning up.

He took his last bite when he heard a voice say, "I thought you four had all the same classes."

His head perked up and he saw you, sitting opposite to him, nibbling at Sirius' leftovers, or well, the crusts of bread he had cut off. Fucking prince, you thought.

James was caught a little off guard and he couldn't explain why he decided to slurp the single noodle in his mouth before responding. He had anticipated the wait to be around five seconds, but it seemed as if the noodles had no intention of ever ending. He tried to speed up the process but that only added to his embarrassment.

Your eyes lit with amusement as you took small bites of the crusts,"Take your time." you tease.

He finally let go of the noodles, cleared his throat and spoke as calmly as he could, "I don't take Astronomy. And Remus has Divination."

You hum and a silence follows. James had been nervous before, and now he was panicking. It wasn't a welcome feeling. He had known you since you were kids, it was always easy to talk to you. The nervous anticipating silences bothered him. Fuck this, he thought.

"We have a mice problem."

"Let's not call Pete a problem."

"Not him, you idiot."

You grin but ask,"Who else is a mouse?"

He sighs before responding, having flashbacks to Remus' lectures."We got payback for a prank we pulled. I'm willing to bet this was your friend Marlene's work."

You were willing to bet on it too. The Slytherins wouldn't do something so secret. They liked to show that they had won.

"Suddenly she's only my friend?" You ask with mock skepticism,

"Real friends don't do this."

"Speak for yourself." He grins wide, caught in his own accusations.

"How do you plan on solving it? Burn down her dorm?"

"Unfortunately, I can't. Something very special to me belongs there." He says, a pleased smile taking over his face, which made you smile in return.

"Huh? What do we have of yours?"

"You. Can't let your pretty head burn, can i?"

This took you by surprise, and there were no quips you could respond to him with. A quick blush covered your cheeks and he tilted his head, his smile contagious. You rolled your eyes playfully and tried to brush off your giddiness, "Alright, what are you gonna do?"

"Well, if I don't clean up the dorm by today Remus is going to be my head." James says, thinking back to a few minutes ago. He also remembered how he had told him to 'just ask her out', and a terrible idea popped in his head.

"Would you help me?" He asks, his voice a little quiet. He tried for an air of nonchalance, he didn't think he had achieved it.

"You want me to help you shoo out mice?" You ask, your eyebrows raised.

He only shrug his shoulders, a pleading expression on his face,

"Alright. Sure." You agree, as if you would ever give up a chance to spend more time with him. "I've always wanted to chase mice anyway." You make an excuse, which makes no sense.

"You've 'always' wanted to?" He asks skeptically,

"You have your fantasies, and I have mine, Potter."

"Strange fantasies you got there." He says, slinging his bag over his shoulders and extending a hand, inviting you.

You follow his lead, a bright grin on your face and James' heart does a few cartwheels.

…

"Let me get this straight," Sirius says, holding up his hand to any obstructions, "You asked her to clean YOUR dorm room, which is infested with mice because of YOUR prank, and she's still coming?"

"She's not cleaning it for me." James tries to justify his poor choices,"None of you pricks will help me. So I had to ask for help."

"You must be packing for her to agree with this sorry excuse of a second date."

"Wouldn't you like to know loverboy?" James extends his hands and makes kissy faces towards Sirius when Sirius swats his hands away and escapes him,

"I'll pray for her well-being. You're clearly not right in the head." Sirius says, opening the door rather dramatically before leaving the room with a grin.

"Wow, so it's not cool to kiss homies now?" he shouts after Sirius.

Remus and Peter bark out a laugh at this. They both get up and head towards the library.

He waits impatiently, fiddling with his hands and running his hands through his hair then fixing it, then doing it again and again. He was in the process of deciding whether his glasses looked better on his eyes or resting on his head, when he heard a knock on the door. The same time you always use to indicate it's you who's knocking.

A smile graced his lips and he made a last futile attempt to tame his unruly hair before opening the door.

"I brought cheese!" You hold up a bag, and sure enough, James sees a block of cheese inside.

He barks out a laugh,"For us or the mice?" still chuckling.

"I thought we could share." You say shyly and James wraps an arm around you in pity (or that's what he tells himself).

"Well, at least this will go well with the snacks." He muses.

"Do we have snacks?" You ask excitedly and he points to a pile beside his bed and you run over with grabby hands but he's quick to stop you.

"One snack for every mouse. Think of it as a treat."

After a bit of arguing over the snacks, and opening three chocolate frogs, you finally get down to business. Your hair is pulled back in a ponytail and you've set rat traps around the room when you huff,

"Tell me again why we can't use magic to summon them?"

"You don't think I've tried?"

"This is the last time I'm helping you."

He only grins and gives you pieces of cheese laced with rat poison,

"These are NOT for you." He reminds you.

You giggle and start placing the blocks where they need to be and you've already spotted the first rodent bastard, "James, look!"

James sprints towards the rat, barely catching it, his body jumping off of beds when his feet get tangled in his sheets and he falls with a thump on the bed, his hand still outstretched to reach the rodent. You both sigh in defeat when the rat escapes his reach.

"Goddamn it."

You pat his back comfortingly trying to contain your laughter and say, "It's okay, soldier."

This continued on for a while, and now it had turned into more of a laughing contest than catching (or rather chasing) rats.

You're on the floor clutching your stomach when James disposes of another rat, alive in the bag they had been collecting the rodents. James caught the first one and couldn't bear to kill it, saying it reminded him too much of Wormtail.

Your bag had two more rats than his, not that this is competition, which he has pointed out later in the game, so you were winning.

After having two rats crawl over you before catching them had you at your end, and after what seemed like a few hours of this, it felt like you both had tackled the mice problem.

"You think we're done?"

"Think so."

Both of you headed to the Care of Magical Creatures professor, feeling it more fit to hand them to someone capable. It had taken a while to explain exactly why we had so many rats in bags with us, but he had let us go.

The day had ended and both you and James headed towards the kitchen to grab a bite, after extensively washing your hands.

Sitting down at a corner the house elves had prepared for you both, a bit too nicely than either of you deserved with your untimely demands, but they didn't seem to mind.

The silence after a day of chaos was comfortable, but there was an inkling in your brain that just wouldn't go away.

"I won the game, what's my prize?"

He looks around confused pretending he has no idea what you're talking about, "What game? There was no game."

"I caught more mice than you."

"Oh, did you? I didn't notice."

You nod your head with a smile, a grin fighting to break out. As you take bites of your food, occasionally casting each other a look after a day of enjoying each other's presence, it feels an awful lot like…

"James…" you trail off, his eyes on yours, asking you to continue. Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth to suppress a smirk when you ask, "Was this a date?"

His chewing stops momentarily and he fixes his glasses, pushing them onto the bridge of his nose,

"Could be if you want it to be."

You scoff, amused, "Your idea of a second date is catching mice together?"

"I just wanted a helping hand from a friend-" He stops at your raised eyebrow, his own smile mirroring yours,"I didn't ask you about this as a date. It just…" He trails off, looking for the right words,

"... happened."

"Yeah. Something like that."

His eyes flicker to your lips and there's a moment of hesitation but he leans down anyway, slowly. His lips are just a whisper away from yours,"We could make it an official date."

Your hands rested on his chest, another barely holding onto the piece of orange from your plate, "Good idea."

His smile is wider than ever when his lips lock with yours, slow and teasing as his hands curl deeper into our hair. You sigh into the kiss and you can hear James chuckle, and you swat his chest, which is only responded with him deepening the kiss. You abandon your orange to free your hand when you hear a loud hiccup, "Oh, Missy apologizes deeply. She didn't mean to see that, or interrupt you. Missy feels sorry, please forgive me, I will leave." A house elf, her eyes wider than they already are is covering her face with her hands.

"Missy, no, it's alright, wait don't leave-" She's gone into thin air before either of you could say anything.

You look at James with a defeated look and he says, "I'll find a better place for the third one."

"This one might need a do over, though." You gesture between the two of you,

"Oh, really?" He asks, a teasing edge to his voice,

"Mhm. Multiple runs, so we know which one's the best one."

"I like the way you think."

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter drabble #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #hp marauders #marauders era #james potter fluff

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ellswritings · 1 day ago

Text

Wolf’s Bane 1x09

A pair of headlights flash into Fallon’s eyes as she roughly turns the wheel to Derek’s sleek black Camaro. Stiles is in the seat next to her, Scott in the back. She’s pushing around sixty miles per hour in a twenty-five mile zone, but with the person in the large SUV behind them, she’s getting dangerously close to just flooring it.

“Fallon, if you could stop driving like a freaking grandmother, that would be great!” Stiles chides sarcastically.

“If I go any faster, I’m gonna flip, Stiles!” She snaps, turning a sharp corner causing the car to lift up on one side slightly. “Besides, I am not crashing Derek’s car. He would have my head on a stick!”

The brunette and Scott had managed to make up not long after the full moon. While the words he said still stung, his apology was pretty awesome. He showed up to her house with a bouquet of moonflowers, her favorite, and a whole box of pizza for them to share. He also spent ninety percent of the night groveling and telling her to slap him for what he said, which she never did, but she appreciated the sentiment.

Hence why she’s now part of some elaborate plan to confuse the police and hunters of Derek’s whereabouts. The three teens are driving his car while Derek chases after the Alpha as the police are chasing him. But they are also chasing the trio. They don’t know how the plan came into action, but it’s way too late to stop now.

“Fallon, I really don’t think you’re grasping the concept of a car chase, here!” Stiles yells at her again.

“I’m not going any faster! It’ll kill us,” she tries to reason with him.

“Well, if you don’t go any faster, they’re gonna kill us!” He turns to point to the hunters chasing them, but the SUV seems to have disappeared. “They’re gone.”

“Damn it,” Fallon grumbles, taking that as her sign to floor it. “Derek, if I crash your car… please don’t kill me,” she whispers.

Stiles turns his police radio on and the voice of his father echoes through the car, “All units, suspect is on foot, heading into the iron works.”

“Copy that,” the girl replies, speeding up before turning down a dark alleyway she knows leads to the iron works. They see a small explosion and a few hunters loading their weapons as Derek lays on the ground. The brunette rolls down the passenger side window, forcing Stiles into the back as she skids to an unsafe stop. “Get in!” She yells.

Shots are fired as the werewolf runs as fast as he can, jumping expertly through the small window and sliding in next to Fallon. She pushes her foot to the floor as bullets bounce off the side of the Camaro. The tires screech loudly as she zooms out of the iron works. “Oh so now you go over a hundred,” Stiles snarks. “Just because Derek’s in the car?”

“No, you idiot. Because we’re being shot at!” She yells, while glaring at him through the rearview mirror. “Now shut up and let me drive,”

“God, Derek, what part of laying low don’t you understand?” Scott asks frustratedly.

“Damn it, I had him!” Derek exclaims, completely ignoring Scott.

“Who?” Stiles leans forward from his spot beside Scott. “The Alpha?”

“Yes!” Derek scoffs impatiently. “He was right in front of me, and the freakin’ police showed up,” he growls under his breath out of pure annoyance.

“Whoa! Hey, they’re just doing their jobs–” Stiles tries to defend his fathers and his deputies choice of profession, but is cut off by Derek throwing a glare his way.

“Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!” Derek snaps sarcastically. Stiles opens and closes his mouth, not knowing how to defend himself. Scott has his guilty face on while Fallon puts her finger up, offended.

“Okay, first of all, I never agreed with anything they said to the police. I just said I wanted to go home. Your name never came out of my mouth,” she argues.

“Both hands on the wheel!” Derek yells at her, gripping her right hand and placing it firmly around the steering wheel.

“Stop yelling at me!” Fallon screams back at him, making the man raise his eyebrows at her.

“Did you really just yell at me to get me to stop yelling at you?”

“Okay!” Stiles cuts them both off. “Can we get back on track please? You said you had the Alpha. How did you find him?”

Derek stays silent, not revealing his information to any of them. Scott scoffs at his immature behavior, “Can you trust us for at least half a second.”

“No,” he responds bluntly.

“Fallon? Can you trust Fallon?” Stiles asks quickly.

“Yes.”

Stiles’ eyes widen. His brain short circuits before he grips onto the head of Derek’s chair. “Are you serious? You trust her? He asks offendedly. “How about all three of us?”

“Or just me,” Fallon smiles smugly at Stiles through the rearview mirror. “We all know he’s not gonna trust you guys any time soon. So why don’t we just let him explain?”

Derek nods, turning to physically only address Fallon. “Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris.”

Harris. As in Adrian Harris? Their chemistry teacher? While she would love to believe that he’s a murderous Alpha werewolf so there could be a reason to explain his rude behavior, he just doesn’t seem like the supernatural type. The man himself is a jerk, but not enough to be running around at night killing people. In fact, he seems like the person to be more afraid of a werewolf rather than being one. Or is that what the Alpha wants them all to think?

“Our chemistry teacher?” Stiles asks in just as much disbelief as Fallon.

The girl turns the car down another quiet side road as Scott furrows his eyebrows, “Why him?”

“I don’t know yet,” Derek answers.

“What’s the second thing?” Fallon asks, briefly looking towards Derek.

Derek reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded up piece of paper. He unfolds it so they can all see it clearly and holds it up for them to see. It’s a wolf inside of what could possibly be a pendant. “Some kind of symbol,” Derek says. When Scott gets a good look at it, he groans quietly, rolling his eyes. “What? You know what this is?” The man questions aggressively, needing answers sooner rather than later.

“I’ve seen it on a necklace,” Scott sighs. “Allison’s necklace.”

“Oh, what a relief,” Fallon snarks. “That shouldn’t pose an issue.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Scott pushes the door to the high school open, Fallon and Stiles following behind him. The werewolf huffs, “This is gonna be impossible, you know.” He tells them pessimistically.

“Why can’t one of you two just ask her to borrow it?” Stiles suggests. “I mean, she doesn’t hate Fallon.”

“It would still raise a couple of questions if I just randomly asked for her necklace, Stiles,” Fallon points out. “Her family barely trusts me as it is.”

“Weren’t you over there just the other day?” The boy questions.

“Yes,” Fallon nods. “But that doesn’t mean they’re gonna be totally fine with me just taking Allison’s necklace. They’ll want an explanation.”

“So just lie,” Stiles shrugs. “You’re good at that.”

“Thank you?” She furrows her eyebrows. “But I’m still not gonna do it. Her mom scares me.”

Stiles groans overdramatically, throwing his head back, “Scott?” He asks hopefully.

“How would I even get it from her?”

“It's easy! You just say, ‘Hey, Allison, can I borrow your necklace to see if there's anything on it or in it that can lead me to an Alpha Werewolf that I need to kill in order to get back together with you?’” Stiles answers unseriously.

“You’re not helping,” Scott glares at him.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?”

“She won’t talk to me,” Scott huffs. “What if she, like, only takes it off in the shower or something?”

“That's why you ease… that's why you ease back into it, okay?” He pats Scott’s shoulders. “Get back on her good side. Remind her of the good times. And then you ask for the necklace.“

Fallon can see the distant look on Scott’s eyes, “You’re thinking about her in the shower aren’t you?” She asks monotonously.

“…Yeah,” he admits sheepishly.

“All right. Stay focused, okay?” Stiles shakes him straight. “Get the necklace. Get the Alpha. Get cured. Get Allison. In that order. Got it?”

Scott nods, “Get the necklace.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The school day had been pretty uneventful for Fallon. She had gone to her classes as normal, finished some homework, read a couple chapters of her book, and doodled in some of her notebooks. She thought she’d be able to get through the whole day with something terrible happening, until Scott came up to her and Stiles and informed them that Jackson “knows what he is.”

“How the hell did he even find out?” The girl asks questioningly. “What could’ve given it away?”

“I have no idea,” Scott replies nervously.

“Did he say it out loud?” Stiles waves his hands around worriedly. “The word?”

“What word?”

“Werewolf,” Stiles whispers loud enough for only them to hear. “Did he say ‘I know you’re a werewolf?’”

“No,” Scott sighs impatiently. “But he implied it pretty freaking clearly!”

“Okay, maybe it’s not as bad as we’re making it out to be,” Fallon says calmly. “I mean, he doesn’t technically have any proof of it, right?”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods. “And if he wanted to tell someone, who would believe him, anyway?”

“How about Allison’s father?” Scott says pointedly. He’s right. If Jackson were to tell Chris or Kate for that matter, Scott would have to go into hiding for the rest of his life.

“…Okay, it’s bad,” Fallon rubs the back of her neck.

“I need a cure– right now,” Scott insists desperately.

“Does he know about Allison’s father?” Stiles looks at Scott curiously.

“I don’t know.”

Stiles puts his hand out, stopping Fallon and Scott from moving any further. “Okay, where’s Derek?” He questions, wondering if the older man could be of some assistance.

“Hiding like we told him to,” Fallon answers with a shrug. “Why?”

“I have another idea…” he says mischievously. “It’s gonna take a little time and finesse, though.”

Fallon bites the inside of her cheek. Time and finesse with Stiles usually means something that is bordering illegal. The last time he used those specific words was when he wanted to take Fallon to the candy store downtown at one in the morning and lower her down through the air ducts because they were closed. His reasoning was “I really want salt water taffy.”

“Stiles, we have the quarterfinals tonight,” Fallon reminds him seriously. “And keep in mind, it’s also your first game. We can’t do anything to risk that, especially since your dad is coming.”

“I know, I know…” he waves her off, but she knows that with whatever he’s planning, something could definitely go wrong. He looks back at Scott, “Look do you have a plan for Allison yet?”

“She’s in my next class.”

Stiles pats his shoulder, “Get the necklace.” He grabs Fallon’s hand, pulling her along behind him, “And you are coming with me.”

Fallon’s heart sinks as she realizes now that she must be an instrumental part in his scheme. She turns back to Scott and mouths, ‘help me.’

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“You sent her romantic photos of the two of you?” Fallon asks in disbelief as she sits down in her seat at the lunch table across from Scott, Stiles sitting next to her. Allison had just ran to Fallon in complete tears, pulling her out of her class. Scott had sent her photos of them being close and lovey with each other which only made the poor girl feel guilty for her decision. While Fallon believes she was a bit over dramatic and rash in deciding to break up with Scott, he took the absolute wrong route to try and get the necklace. “What the hell were you thinking? I mean, there’s no way you actually thought that would get her to give you the necklace.”

“I didn’t even think it was that bad,” Scott frowns. “I thought it was sweet.”

Scott, she already feels like crap for dumping you,” Fallon points out. “Sending her those photos was like a punch to the gut. No wonder she told you not to talk to her anymore. There were so many better ways to have handled that.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he says quietly. “I really thought it was a nice gesture.”

“…So, she’s not giving you the necklace?” Stiles brings up awkwardly.

“She’s not giving me the necklace,” Scott answers quickly and irritably, angry that’s the only part Stiles seems to care about.

“Did you find anything else out?” Stiles asks, taking a decent bite out of his cheeseburger.

Scott looks to the roof frustratedly, “Just that I know nothing about girls, and that they’re totally psychotic.”

Fallon takes a bite of her peanut butter and jelly with a sarcastic nod, “Right, we’re psychotic when you're the one who thought it would be a great idea to send romantic photos to your ex-girlfriend to get her necklace. When instead you could’ve just said ‘hey, I don’t mean to be weird, I know we’re broken up, but I just wanted to say that’s a really cool pendant.’ But y’know, why would you want to do that? That would just be too easy.”

Stiles nods along with her words, Scott glaring at him slightly. “Okay, I came up with a Plan B just in case something like this happened,” he reveals.

“What’s Plan B?”

“Just steal the stupid thing!” He says bluntly, moving to open his drink.

“Why wasn’t that Plan A?” Fallon furrows her eyebrows. “I could’ve done that, easy.” It’s true. She and Allison have gym together, so when they were changing she could’ve easily gotten it off of her. Not that she likes to make a habit out of stealing people’s things, but this is for the greater good of Scott’s life.

“Do we really think that’s the best way?” Scott asks unsurely. “Couldn’t we at least try getting to Harris?”

Stiles shakes his head, “My dad put him under a twenty-four hour protective detail, okay? The necklace is all we got. Steal it,” he commands. “Thank you. Better it be you than Fallon who’s apparently itching to steal something,” he sends her a weird look.

“Okay, I’m not itching,” she defends herself. “I just like to steal sometimes. It makes my heart go fast.”

“I don’t know if I want to call you adorable or scary,” Stiles stares at her.

The three of them continue eating their lunch. Fallon steals one of Stiles’ fries while he takes one of her cookies. The two of them don’t notice Scott’s uncomfortability until he shifts in his seat to look at them, “Guys, he’s watching us.” He nods his head towards a table in the distance.

Fallon and Stiles look up, noticing Jackson staring at them with a smug smirk. It sends chills down her skin the way his predatory gaze is stuck on them. Ever since Scott’s made it onto Coach’s radar, Jackson has been absolutely insufferable. He really wasn’t that bad before, but now she questions why she even became friends with him in the first place.

“I wanna punch him,” she mumbles. “… again. But this time harder. Like I want to break his nose.” She glares at Jackson, but the blonde isn’t focused enough on her to see her anger.

“Okay…” Stiles places a hesitant hand on her back, rubbing it up and down. “Easy there killer.”

The two of them notice Scott zoning out and going slightly pale. Stiles leans forward, “What’s wrong?”

“Jackson's talking to me,” Scott tells them worriedly. He scoots forward in his seat, panicking as he tries to get closer to his best friends. “He knows I can hear him. Look at me. Just talk to me. Act normal. Pretend that nothing's happening.”

“Just let me go over there and punch him,” Fallon begs. “Seriously, I’ll get him to stop talking. Maybe I can take Stiles with me and he can kill him with his sarcasm and supernatural ability to annoy people.”

“Hey!” The boy smacks her, offended.

“Would one of you guys just say something!” Scott whispers. “Just talk to me!”

“I can’t think of anything– my mind’s completely blank,” Stiles sets his water bottle down.

Scott looks at him baffled, “Your mind is blank? You can’t think of something to say?”

Stiles defends himself, “Not under this kind of pressure.”

“Technically we are talking to you,” Fallon says pointedly. “Your stiff posture is what’s giving it away.” She glances back up and furrows her brows, “And he’s not even sitting there anymore.”

Scott spins around quickly, noting the blonde’s absence. His concern grows, “Where the hell is he?”

“Looking for me, McCall? I'm right here. So, what else can you do? Huh? Can you see better? Are you stronger, more powerful? No, I knew there was no way you suddenly got that good at lacrosse... Which means you're actually a cheater, aren't you? I mean, can you even play lacrosse?”

“Yes,” Scott mutters defensively out of nowhere. He squeezes the water bottle in his hand so tightly that his whole arm begins to shake.

Fallon reaches forward, encasing her hands around his, “Scott…” she warns. “Don’t feed into it. Ignore him.”

“I'll bet my new co-captain's gonna score a bunch of shots tonight, aren't you? And while you're pretending you're not a lying cheat, I'm gonna ruin your life if you don't give me what I want. And you know what I'm gonna start with? Her.”

Scott’s entire body goes rigid. Fallon wishes she could hear what antagonizing words Jackson’s saying to him. “Scott, what’s going on?” Stiles asks, concerned. “What’s happening?”

“Talk to us,” Fallon begs, trying to pull him out of whatever angry trance he’s in. “What is he saying to you?”

He stays completely silent, only listening to Jackson’s mumbling. Stiles snaps his fingers in front of Scott’s face, but it doesn’t even earn a blink from the zoned out boy. The two friends try to search the lunch room, but Jackson is nowhere to be found.

“I'm gonna destroy any chance you'll ever have with her. And, when I'm done with that, I'm gonna get her all alone, and I'm gonna get my hands all over that tight little body.”

Scott’s hand quakes violently as he brings his water bottle up to his mouth, taking a sip to try and calm himself down. Fallon’s leg bounces up and down as she watches Scott with troubled eyes. Is he going to turn in the middle of the lunch room? Or just go and murder Jackson?

Stiles leans closer to his best friend, “Scott, come on, you can’t let him do this. You can’t let him have this kind of power over you, okay?”

“I'm gonna do everything you never got the chance to do, and Scott? She's gonna beg for more.”

Scott is now gripping his plastic tray with a deadly amount of force. His face is starting to flush red with anger as the plastic in his hands begins to crack under the pressure.

“I bet she likes to get loud. Maybe she's even a screamer. How are you gonna feel, Scott... When she's screaming my name?”

Fallon and Stiles grip onto each other as the tray finally snaps in half, causing his plate to fall with a loud crash onto the table. Pretty much every head in the lunch room turned to look at them. Fallon’s lips form in a tight line as she raises her hand to dismiss their new audience.

“Proceed with your business,” she says. “We’re fine… everything is just fine,” she mumbles the last part quietly, but Stiles and Scott know that they are so far from fine.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“I don’t understand why my presence is required for you to look up what Allison’s pendant means,” Fallon tells Stiles as she enters his room behind him, flopping down on his bed like she usually does.

“Because you’re better at taking notes than I am,” he shrugs as if it’s obvious. “And I didn’t wanna do it by myself… so there’s that.” He waves his hand in the air, “And I’m feeding your sorry ass, so don’t act like it’s that big of a burden.”

“True,” Fallon sighs contently. “I suppose I can’t complain.”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods. “Y’know what’s really funny? Normally dogs are either food or toy motivated, but it seems I’ve found a human that’s also motivated by food.”

“Are you calling me a dog?” She sits up, glaring daggers at him.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m just saying you have dog-like tendencies.”

“You may be right,” she admits gruffly. “I’m starting to get the urge to attack.” The two of them make prolonged eye contact before she surges forward making the boy flinch with a small yelp. She throws her head back, cackling loudly at his fear of her.

She’s still laughing when Noah calls out for his son, “Hey, Stiles!”

Fallon sits up from her spot, but her eyes turn as wide as saucers when she sees Derek Hale staring directly at her, “Holy shi–” she tries to scream.

She’s swiftly cut off by Derek picking her up from the bed and pulling her out of sight behind the slightly ajar door. He slaps a hand over her mouth, pushing her body into the wall. He cages her in, one arm on the side of her head while his one hand remains on her mouth. She squirms under his hold making him tighten his grip.

“Relax,” he whispers through clenched teeth. “Don't say a word.”

Stiles barely turns, not even hearing the sudden commotion behind him. “Yo, D–” He jumps slightly when he sees his best friend pinned to the door, “Derek?”

The brooding man moves his free hand in front of his lips, using his finger to signal Stiles to shut up. He could have easily done that to Fallon, but apparently that would’ve been too easy. He uses the same finger to point to the halfway open door as the sheriff comes up to talk to his son.

Stiles sends Fallon a panicked look before stumbling over to the door, shutting it a bit more behind him so his father can’t see the poor girl being shoved against his bedroom wall. The door rattles on its hinges making Derek roll his eyes.

“What’d you say?” They hear the sheriff say.

Stiles tries to play it cool, “What? I said, ‘Yo, D–Dad,” he scoffs out a laugh as if it was obvious.

“Is Fallon here?” He wonders. “I thought I heard the two of you come in together.”

“Uh. Y-Yeah, she’s here. In my room…” Stiles stutters awkwardly. “Just studying and stuff. Y’know, ‘cause she’s smart.”

Fallon cringes at his rambling. Sheriff Stilinski sends his son a small grin, “You ever gonna tell that poor girl how you feel about her?”

Fallon and Stiles’ eyes shoot wide open at the sentence. Stiles splutters profusely while Fallon simply glares at Derek who has an amused eyebrow raised. Still not a hint of a smile though.

“I’m sorry, what?!” His son shakes his head. “No. No, no, no, no. Fallon and me– just friends. No feelings. In fact, I don’t even think she’s a girl. She doesn’t count.”

“Yeah,” Noah nods skeptically. “That's what they all say.“ He shakes off the playfully tone before sighing, “Anyway, listen, I’ve got something that I’ve got to take care of, but I’m gonna be there tonight,” he promises. “I mean, your first game!”

Fallon huffs under Derek’s hand which still hasn’t moved. It’s Stiles’ first game, and the semifinal, and he ends up getting stuck trying to figure out all this werewolf drama for Scott. He deserves a chance to play in the spotlight for once. Scott better get that necklace, if not for himself, then at least for Stiles’ sake. At this rate, especially with Derek here, she doesn’t even think she’ll be able to play tonight.

Stiles nods his head up and down, “My first game!” Stiles repeats with a small fist bump into the air. She couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm or actual excitement, but knowing Stiles and their current situation, it’s probably the former. “Guh– it’s great! Awesome. Uh, good!”

“I’m very happy for you,” Noah smiles genuinely. “And I’m really proud of you.”

Fallon expected Stiles to just thank his dad or say ‘I love you,’ but she should’ve known better. “Thanks… Me too. I’m happy and proud… of myself.”

“So, they’re really gonna let you play, right?” Noah asks unsurely, still having a hard time grasping the concept of his son being first line.

Stiles beams, “Yeah, Dad– I’m first line. Believe that?”

Noah nods, “I’m very proud.”

“Oh, me too,” Stiles says with a rushed smile. “Again, I’m–”

Sheriff Stilinski leans forward, pulling Stiles in for the most awkward hug Fallon has ever witnessed. They pay each other on the back, “Huggie, huggie…” Stiles mutters weirdly. “Huggie.”

“Idiot,” Fallon says, still muffled by Derek’s hand.

Noah looks at his son oddly but nonetheless nods, “See you there,” he waves at his son before taking off down the stairs. Fallon lets out a breath of relief as Derek lets her go. She lightly pushes him out of her way, glaring at him as she goes to move. She gasps though as Stiles closes the door, Derek taking the opportunity to then pin him to it.

She gapes at him, “What is with you and pinning people to things?”

Derek ignores her, snarling at Stiles as he goes to open his mouth. “If you say one word–”

“Oh, what? You mean like, ‘Hey dad, Derek Hale’s in my room. Bring your gun?!’” Stiles cuts him off sassily. Derek falters for a moment, realizing that Stiles does technically have the power in this situation. They told him to hide, but he chose to come to the Sheriff’s house. The only thing protecting him right now is Stiles’ silence. “Yeah, that’s right. If I’m harboring your fugitive ass, it’s my house,” he slaps Derek’s chest cockily making Fallon smirk, “my rules, buddy.”

Derek clenches his jaw. He remains silent, but eventually he slowly nods, releasing his tight grip on Stiles. He pulls down the boy's jacket to rearrange it from where he pulled it out of proportion during his attempt at threatening him. Stiles huffs out a laugh, and being his usual self, does the same for Derek's leather jacket

That earns a menacing jerk of the head from Derek causing Stiles to flinch similarly to when Fallon pretended to surge at him earlier. “Oh my God!” He says fearfully before returning to his desk.

Fallon stays on Stiles’ bed, glancing at Derek every few seconds to make sure he doesn’t try to pin her to the wall again. Her mind is still a little fuzzy from the first time. Whether it be from the lack of oxygen or because she secretly enjoyed it, they’ll never know.

“Scott didn’t get the necklace?” Derek asks, following Stiles over to his laptop.

“No. He's still working on it. But, there's something else we can try.” He spins in his chair to face Derek. “The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there.”

“So? Derek shrugs, not seeing how that pertains to their current issue.

“So…” Fallon leans forward in a patronizing tone, almost as if she were explaining it to a child, “It wasn’t Scott.”

Derek glances at her like he wants to throw her through a wall rather than pin her to it. “Well, can you guys find out who sent it?” He questions aggressively.

“No,” Stiles shakes his head. “At least not one of us,” he points between himself and Fallon. “But I think I know someone who can…”

Stiles pulls out his phone and as soon as she sees the smirk on Stiles’ face and the words “lab work” come out of his mouth, she already knew who he was calling.

Danny.

He probably has no clue that Stiles knows about his previous run-ins with the law. The only reason Fallon knows is because he and her are really close. She’s pretty sure the only people he’s told are her and Jackson. She groans, “Stiles, you can’t just ambush him like this.”

“Do you have a better idea?” He scoffs.

“Uh, yeah,” she nods. “Just tell him you need a favor and that you’ll owe him one. He’s a pretty easy going guy if you haven’t noticed.”

“This is more fun,” Stiles shrugs. His phone pings with a message from Danny, “I’ll be right back. He’s here.” Stiles runs out of the room, leaving Derek and Fallon alone until he returns.

She gazes at the man, “So… that was a pretty aggressive greeting,” she says sarcastically, recalling the way he didn’t even say hello to her when he came in.

Derek’s eyes flicked to her, his expression as unreadable as ever. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at her with that intense gaze that always seemed to see right through her. Fallon forces herself not to look away, refusing to be intimidated by his silence.

“I heard your heartbeat rising,” Derek finally said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

Fallon feels her cheeks flush slightly at his words, and she quickly covers it with a scoff. “Oh, please. You had me pinned against a wall with your hand over my mouth. My heart was racing because I thought you were going to suffocate me, not because I enjoyed it.”

Derek’s lips twitch, just barely, but it’s enough for Fallon to notice. “Sure,” he said, clearly not buying her excuse. He pushes off the wall and took a step closer to her, his presence once again filling the small space between them. “You’re not as good at hiding things as you think, Fallon.”

Her eyes narrow at his words, her stubbornness flaring up. “And you’re not as unreadable as you think, Derek.”

This time, it was Derek’s turn to scoff, though it was a much quieter sound. He takes another step closer, and Fallon finds herself involuntarily pressing herself further into the bed. “If that were true,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did when I grabbed you.”

Fallon swallows hard, her heart beating a little faster as he looms over her. The girl knows he’s only saying that to get under her skin, to rattle her so she stops talking. She wasn’t going to let him win though. Fallon’s never been one to step down from a challenge. “You’re assuming I was flustered because of you,” she counters, trying to keep her voice steady. “Maybe I just don’t like being manhandled.”

Derek’s eyes flicker down for the briefest of moments before meeting her gaze again. “Keep telling yourself that,” he murmurs.

Fallon’s breath hitches slightly at the intensity in his voice, but she quickly masks it with a smirk. “I will.”

Before Derek could respond, the sound of footsteps on the stairs broke the tension between them. He quickly steps away, putting some distance between them as Stiles returns with Danny in tow.

“Fallon?” Danny tilts his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” she purses her lips, “nothing worth noting. Just kind of here… taking up space.”

“Are you gonna help us with lab work?” He asks curiously as Stiles plops back down in his chair.

“Actually,” Stiles gets his attention with a shake of his head. “We’re not doing lab work. I need you to do something else for us.”

“What?” Danny furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean we’re not doing lab work?” He scoffs. “That's why you invited me here.”

“That was a lie,” Siles shrugs nonchalantly. “Fallon and I need you to do something mucho importante. We need your crazy hacker skills to trace a text for us,” he blurts out, typing fervently on his computer.

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” Danny shakes his head in disbelief.

“Trace a text,” Stiles enunciates condescendingly, as if Danny doesn’t understand the request.

Fallon feels bad for Danny. He genuinely came here to do lab work and Stiles just exploited his crime record. In the grand scheme of things, Danny doing this is going to be a big help, but they way he was manipulated into coming here might bite them back karmic wise in the future.

The brunette girl rolls her eyes, pulling Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. She should’ve been on the sixth book by now, but with all the supernatural issues going on, it’s been hard to find downtime. Her eyes gloss over the pages, immersing herself in the fictional world. The only issue is that as she tries to delve deeper, she can feel Derek’s stare on the back of her neck. It’s almost as if he expects her to conversate with him. She thought he’d love the fact he can just stand there in his broody silence, not being bothered by anyone.

“I came here to do lab work– that’s what lab partners do,” Danny tells him, growing increasingly more annoyed.

Stiles groans, running a hand through his buzzcut. “And we will! …Once you trace the text,” he says, making an ultimatum out of it.

Danny glares at him, “And what makes you think I know how?”

Stiles turns sheepish, stuttering slightly. Fallon doesn’t bother looking up from her book, “He looked up your arrest report,” she reveals monotonously, flipping the page.”

Danny’s face falls defeatedly, “I-I was thirteen,” he says defensively. “They dropped the charges.”

Stiles puts his hands up, indicating with his gesture that he’s not accusing Danny of anything. “Whatever,” he shrugs.

Danny looks like he considers it for a moment, but ultimately huffs and determinedly sets his backpack down. He takes a seat next to Stiles, “No. We’re doing lab work,” he insists.

Fallon sighs, finally looking up from her book. “Please, Danny…?” She begs nicely. “If you do this, I’ll seriously owe you one. I’ll even do your guys’ lab work,” she proposes.

“Wait, seriously?” Stiles spins around causing Fallon to narrow her eyes at him. “Nevermind…” he mumbles.

Danny looks like he wants to say yes, but his need to be a good student seems to be winning. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to Stiles’ computer. It doesn’t last for long though as his attention is pulled over to where Derek is sitting, reading Fallon’s copy of the Prisoner of Azkaban. She lends him a copy of whatever book he is on. He’s a pretty fast reader, she's noticed. He should be further along too, but with having to pretend to be dead for a bit, he fell behind. Fallon glances in Danny’s direction, noticing him slightly ogling Derek, not that the werewolf noticed.

“Who’s he again?” She hears Danny whisper to Stiles.

Derek slipped his jacket off a few moments prior, laying it next to Fallon’s spot on the bed. He’s in a tight-fitted light gray t-shirt. His muscles bulge out of the fabric, the lightness of the color really making his eyes pop. The top of his chest peeks out due to the buttons being undone, but no one in the room seems to mind.

Stiles tries to find a believable answer. He glances back at Derek before slowly turning back to Danny, “Um, my cousin…” he pauses, “Miguel.”

Fallon snorts rather loudly at the lie. She covers it up with a cough as all three boys turn to look at her. Derek’s glare stays on her the longest, not appreciating how humorous she’s finding the situation.

“Is that blood on his shirt?”

Fallon’s eyes widen. Sure enough, as she looks over at Derek, there’s a nice and noticeable blood stain right on his t-shirt. She shoots him a pointed look, “Where did that come from?” She seethes through clenched teeth. “What have you even been doing?”

Danny and Stiles can’t hear her though. “Yeah. Yes, well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds,” Stiles effortlessly excuses. He glances back at Derek with false politeness, “Hey, Miguel… I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts?”

Derek closes the book in one swift motion, never taking his glare off Stiles. With an unnecessary amount of aggression, he tosses it onto the bed as he stands up jerkily and walks over to the dresser. Fallon watches as he pulls his shirt over his head angrily, tossing it onto the ground.

The girl bites her lip as she watches him rummage through Stiles’ drawers. His back muscles flex with every moment, showing off the large tattoo that takes up most of his back. She tries to keep her focus on the book, but she’d have to be a nun to ignore the attractive man in front of her. If her father saw the way she was looking at Derek right now, he’d probably be sent into an early grave. Or go after him with a shotgun. No previous hunter training required.

“So, anyway, I mean, we both know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably–”

“Uh, Stiles,” Derek interrupts the boy who is still trying to convince Danny to contribute to their cause.

“Yes?” Stiles bats his eyelashes innocently.

He holds up a tiny black and white striped t-shirt. He pulls it in two different directions with his hands to emphasize his point, “This… no fit,” he says irritably.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Then try something else on.”

Fallon looks up at Derek, “Sorry,” she mouths at him. If she could help, she would. But there’s no way with Derek’s physique that he's going to find something that fits him in Stiles’ room.

She looks back down at her book, managing to finish the page she was on before Stiles’ voice pulls her back into the conversation. “Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think, Danny?” He says nudging him to look at Derek.

Fallon’s jaw drops when she sees the bright orange and blue shirt covering Derek’s body. While the fit of it does bring out his… well, everything. It doesn't look very comfortable, nor is it his style. Derek clearly hates it as well as his usual scowl deepens. If Lydia were to see this monstrosity, she would throw Stiles in jail for even possessing a shirt that looks like that. She’s pretty sure Stiles has never even worn that in his life.

“Huh?” Danny shifts uncomfortably.

“The shirt?” Stiles continues to push on his opinion.

Danny looks at Derek, either finding him extremely attractive or extremely scary, Fallon couldn’t tell which. “It’s… It’s not really his color,” he says, swallowing thickly.

Danny’s gaze lingers for a moment as Derek takes off yet another shirt. Stiles leans over to the goalie with a smug smile, “You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don’t you Danny boy?” He whispers menacingly, calling his lab partner out.

“You’re a horrible person.”

Stiles looks up at his curling as if actually pondering his terrible behavior, “I know. It keeps me awake at night.” He sleeps like a baby pretty much every night. It takes Fallon, Scott, and the aroma of chocolate chip pancakes to get him to wake up at sleepovers. “Anyway, about that text…”

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, his temper now officially snapped. He holds another shirt in his hands, but it’s obvious that one won’t work for him either. “None of these fit!”

Danny immediately turns back to the computer, not able to look at Derek change anymore. He begins typing, “I’ll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of text.”

Fallon and Stiles make eye contact, quietly celebrating their little victory. Fallon jumps up, hugging Danny from behind, “You’re the best. Seriously, I meant what I said. I definitely owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy waves off. “Just lend me copy off your history notes and we’re even.”

“Done,” she nods happily.

They allow Danny to work for about thirty minutes in complete silence, which has to be a new record for Fallon and Stiles. The two of them collectively struggle to stay quiet for more than ten. But it was already enough of a struggle to convince Danny, they didn’t need to piss him off anymore than he already was. She watches impressed as information flies across the screen, all by Danny’s doing. Suddenly, he stops.

“There,” he points to the screen, causing Derek to walk closer so he can get a better look. He stands directly behind Fallon, his breath faintly hitting her neck causing chills to run down her spine. She shuffles over a bit to have more room, earning a curious look from Derek himself. “The text was sent from a computer.” He points towards the name, “This one.”

Fallon, Stiles, and Derek stare at the screen in shock and confusion. How could this be the computer the text was sent from?

“Registered to that account name?” Derek asks skeptically.

“No,” Fallon shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“That can’t be right,” Stiles breathes out.

On the bright screen in front of them reads the words Account registered to: Beacon Hills Hospital– Melissa McCall.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon sits in the backseat of Stiles’ jeep, Derek taking up the passenger seat. She knew better than to argue with him, either way she would’ve ended up in the same spot. Just one scenario he’s mad at her, and the other he’s not. Hence why she chose the latter. Her leg bounces up and down nervously as she checks the time on her phone. The game starts in less than thirty minutes. She has never missed a game out of her own free will, and Coach is gonna kill her when he realizes she’s not there already.

“Did you get the picture?” Scott asks Stiles through the phone. Fallon can hear the faint cheering from the crowd through the speaker and a pout crosses over her face. She should’ve gone with Scott to steal the necklace.

On the bright side, at least he found the pendant. He sent the group of three a picture of it, the real thing matching up with the sketch Derek showed them pretty well. All the important details seemed to be there. She might’ve made it a little neater if she drew it, but that’s just her inner artist's need for perfection.

The unlikely trio sits in the parking lot of the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital Long Term Care facility. Derek forced Stiles to drive them there, but didn’t explain why. Said he would tell them when they got there.

“Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing,” Stiles answers.

Derek grabs Stiles’ wrist with no remorse, pulling it at an awkward angle so he can talk into the phone. “Hey, is there something on the back of it? There's gotta be something-- an inscription, an opening, something…”

“No, no, the thing's flat,” Scott says, much to Derek’s disappointment. “And, no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you guys? You're supposed to be here. Coach is gonna go ballistic when he realizes neither of you are ready.”

“Where the hell is Bilinski?!” The hear Coach shout through the phone. Suddenly his voice becomes impossibly louder, “McCall! Where’s Donovan?” He asks, his tone of voice angry, and from what she can tell, a bit nervous. “Why isn’t she out here running drills? Is that her on the phone right now?” They hear a small scuffle go on, “Donovan! You better get your ass out on this field toot sweet or you’ll be running sucides until you actually commit suicide, do you understand me?!”

Fallon’s eyes shoot open. That definitely was not a bluff. The rest of her lacrosse career is going to be a living nightmare. Scott sighs, finally getting his phone back. “Stiles, you’re not gonna play if you’re not here to start,” he says sadly. “And Fallon, Coach might actually combust if you don’t show up.”

The girl groans, putting her head in her hands. “I know,” she mumbles.

Stiles feels an immense amount of frustration, throwing his hand up. “We know,” he sighs, realizing that they're sacrificing what could lead them to the semi-finals. “Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him… tell him I’ll be there. We’ll just be a little bit late, okay? All right, thanks.” He pulls the phone away from his ear and hands it to Fallon. “He said he needs to tell you something.”

She furrows her eyebrows but takes the phone anyway, “Hey Scotty, what’s up?” She greets, placing the phone next to her ear.

“Fall, I’m really sorry, but I may or may not have made a huge mistake,” he starts off, immediately making her nervous.

“What kind of mistake?” She asks, sending a worried look to Stiles.

“Chris caught me sneaking out of his house this afternoon when I went to steal the necklace. He started asking me questions about Derek and why I talk to him, and I may have mentioned that the two of you tend to talk a lot too. I promise I didn’t mean to. But you need to be careful, he–”

“Scott, why the hell would you tell him that I talk to Derek?” Fallon asks angrily. “I was the only one out of the three of us who had a decent relationship with that family!”

“I was under a lot of pressure, okay?” Scott tries to defend himself. “He just kept pushing for information and I just accidentally let it slip. I’m sorry…”

The girl groans loudly once more, a migraine slowly seeping its way into her head. “Okay, whatever. I-It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out if he asks. Just try to keep Coach from losing his mind. We’ll be there soon. Okay, bye.”

Fallon didn’t have time to think about the future lecture from Chris Argent. He’s a really nice guy, despite the fact he’s been hunting one of her best friends since third grade and her other friend who happens to like taking her books. He’ll no doubt tell Michael about her secret relationship with Derek which means her father will actually send her to Azkaban. And by that she means, lock her in her room with cameras, only allowing her out for school with the occasional visit from Scott and Stiles. She’ll also probably lose her motorcycle privileges.

“You guys aren’t gonna make it,” Derek says bluntly.

Stiles nods with a sigh, “Yeah, we know.” Both of them were more than bummed, but Fallon felt worse for Stiles than she did herself. She’s gotten to play first line since she was a freshman. Scott also got a free ticket to first line due to the bite, but Stiles had to work his butt off to get to this point. She might love to read him for his lack of hand-eye coordination, but Stiles practiced pretty much every day up until all of this werewolf business started happening. It's sad watching him give up so much.

“And neither of you told him about his mom either.”

“And we’re not going to,” Fallon shakes her head. “Not until we find out the truth. Because I know Melissa would never do that. She couldn’t have. She’s not in the know about any of this. Hell, for a while, she didn’t even know about Allison, let alone her phone number.”

“Plus, last week, I saw her struggle to change the channel on the TV in the living room. Which she’s had for almost three years. Not exactly tech savvy enough to send a message from Scott’s phone through a computer,” Stiles adds.

Derek nods his head along with their words. “By the way, one more thing…” Stiles turns to look at the man but immediately regrets it as Derek takes the back of his head, harshly slamming his face into the steering wheel.

Fallon jumps as Stiles groans in pain, clutching his face. “Derek!” The girl screams, reaching up to slap his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Oh God!” Stiles rubs his forehead which is now throbbing. “What the hell was–”

Derek cuts him off with a stiff point from his finger, “You know what that was for! Now go!” He gestures towards the doors of the care facility. “Both of you.”

Fallon rolls her eyes at his bossiness, pulling out her ”volunteer” ID. She’s starting to feel like maybe this was the only reason she was needed for Derek’s plan. Easy access into the hospital.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles stays closely behind Fallon who leads them through the hallways of the hospital. The brunette girl has her phone pressed to her ear, talking to Derek who is telling them what to do as they go. Her confusion is growing more and more as she notices the odd abandonment of this branch. There should be more nurses walking around. She’s been in this unit before, even helped some paralyzed patients with physical therapy. Despite their terrible circumstances, the patients here are usually pretty Iively. This is one of her favorite parts of the hospital to do rounds in, so it’s concerning to see it so empty.

“Derek there’s no one here,” Fallon tells him. “We can’t find one nurse, let alone whoever you’re talking about.”

“Look, just ask for Jennifer,” Derek instructs strictly. “She’s been looking after my uncle.”

“Who even is your uncle?” Fallon questions. “Maybe I’ve checked in on him at some point.”

“No,” Derek denies. “They’ve only ever allowed Jennifer to work with him. That’s why you need to find her.”

Fallon trudges exasperatedly over to the room number Derek tells her. Stiles tries to listen in on the conversation so she decides to put the call on speaker. Once they arrive at the room they’re met with nothing. His bed is empty and freshly made, no one is occupying the wheelchair, nothing. It’s almost as if he disappeared into thin air, which isn’t exactly common for a comatose burn victim.

“Derek, he’s not here,” Fallon voices. “Like nowhere to be found. This room looks like it’s prepped to bring in a new patient, not like it’s been lived in.”

“What?” Derek asks, completely befuddled.

“He’s not here,” she enunciates. “It doesn’t look like he ever was. There’s no trace of anyone.”

There was a moment of silence, making both Stoles and Fallon grow increasingly more anxious. The tension becomes almost too much to handle until Derek bursts out into a yell, “Fallon, get out of there right now!” He screams. “It’s him! He’s the Alpha! You both need to get out!”

Fallon’s blood runs cold. She stumbles backwards, trying to push her and Stiles out of the abandoned room. The exit. That’s all that runs through her mind. Stiles catches her before she trips over her own feet. They both breath heavily as she grabs his hand, getting ready to bolt for the doors. But before they could even make a full turn, they are met with a looming figure. Derek’s uncle, Peter. The Alpha. He stands tall above them, a long trench coat covering his form. She wants to run away, scream even, the same feeling from the video store coming back. Especially when that smirk comes across his face. The same one she saw when he touched her with his claws. Her heart stops.

She’s absolutely terrified. This man could kill her without even thinking twice about it. But she knows she would throw herself into a pit of fire if it meant protecting Stiles. She takes a small step forward, pushing the boy behind her protectively. Peter looks almost amused by her action.

He smiles sinisterly, “You must be Fallon and Stiles.” The brunette girl couldn’t help but sympathize at the burns on the side of his face. They’re red, swollen, and discolored. No doubt one of the most painful injuries anyone could receive. She knows it’s wrong to feel even slightly and for the man as he’s killed so many people as well as having turned Scott, but after being wronged this way. Perhaps it’s not completely unjustified.

Fallon grips Stiles’ hand tighter. She tries to even her breathing as she spins them around to run in the other direction, but they are met with the angry scowl of who they could only assume was Peter’s nurse, Jennifer. Of course, now they find her.

“What are you doing here?” She interrogates aggressively. “Visiting hours are over.”

Fallon drops her phone to the ground, not even cringing when the screen falls face down. She clenches her fists tightly, getting ready to beat the living daylights out of the woman in front of them. Until Stiles decides that now is the perfect time to have an existential crisis. Or epiphany, whichever one he’d like to classify it as.

He points to Jennifer with a slack jaw, “You…” He gasps loudly before looking back at Peter. “And him… You're-you're the one who-- Oh, my-- and he's-- Oh, my God, we’re gonna die.” He looks like he’s going to cry, just without the tears. “We’re gonna die,” he mumbles again.

Fallon feels a sudden surge of bravery. She turns her head towards Peter, nose flaring with anger. He has been non stop terrorizing her. Her thoughts plagued with the memory of him invading her space the way that he did. “That night at the video store… you sniffed me. You touched me. Why? Why didn’t you just kill me when you had the chance?”

Peter’s smirk deepened as he looked at Fallon. "There’s something different about you... something worth keeping around.” A dark gleam appears in his eyes, “Why waste such potential, such… power, when it’s staring me right in the face?” Her confusion and fear makes him glow, “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Fallon felt as if every part of her had been violated simply by his words. He thinks she has potential. Why would he want to keep her around? He does have a plan for her, something she doesn’t and would never want to be a part of. Before she could say or process anything else, a loud crack is heard as Derek smoothly slides into the hallway. He elbows Jennifer in the face, causing the red head to fall to the linoleum floor, hitting her head and knocking her out cold.

Peter cocks his head to the side with a faux frown, “That’s not nice,” he feigns offense. “She’s my nurse.”

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people,” Derek corrects, getting ready for a fight. “Get out of the way,” he orders the two teens.

Stiles looks like he’s about to pass out as he glances between the two werewolves. Fallon’s eyes meet Derek’s and she feels the urge to fight with him, to tell him that they can help, but the pointed look he gives her makes her surrender that foolish notion. She grabs Stiles’ arm and pulls them down to the floor, crawling out of the way of the upcoming brawl.

“You think I killed Laura on purpose?” Peter stalks closer to Derek, ignoring the teens who are pushing themselves against the wall below. “One of my own family?”

Derek roars loudly, his eyes shifting to their bright shade of blue. This probably isn’t the family reunion either of them were expecting. The brunette pushes Stiles further down the hall as she watches Derek bounce off the wall to tackle Peter. The Alpha grabs his nephew by the collar of his jacket, throwing him directly into the wall next to Stiles and Fallon.

“Shit!” The girl screams, rolling over in the other direction.

Paint and drywall crumble off the spot of impact. She and Stiles run the other way, trying not to get caught in the crossfire. Fallon watches Derek with worried eyes, but he doesn’t falter in the slightest from the rough impact. Despite the wall now having a Derek sized dent in it, the man himself appears fine.

Fallon flinches as Stiles yanks her away from the unconscious nurse. Peter reaches down, grabbing Derek by the neck as he drags him down the hallway. She wants to help in some way, but Derek specifically told them to get out of the way.

“My mind, my personality, we’re literally burned out of me,” Peter monologues dramatically. “I was being driven by pure instinct.” He drops Derek’s body on the floor with a loud thud before reaching over to his nurse and taking her keys.

Derek grunts, forcing himself to stand after being manhandled. “You want forgiveness?” He asks breathily before cocking his fist back and slamming it into Peter’s jaw. Fallon flinches from the contact, Peter’s head jerking in the other direction.

Peter takes the opportunity to grab Derek by the collar again, head butting him with an excessive amount of force. “I want understanding,” he answers.

He lifts his leg up, connecting it with Derek’s chest as he sends the man flying across the hallway. Fallon jumps out of the way, pulling Stiles behind her. “We need to get out of here,” she whispers urgently. Stiles nods in agreement, the two of them rounding the corner to head towards the doors. They can hear Peter in the distance.

Peter menacingly tilts his head towards his nephew, “Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years?” Derek spits out blood onto the floor, using his arms to push himself off of the floor. “Slowly healing, cell by cell. Even more slowly coming back to consciousness.”

Fallon bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to imagine how hurt Derek is. Flashes of his brutally beat up body from the night at the school enter her mind, but Stiles manages to keep her grounded as they try to find the best escape route.

“Yes, becoming an Alpha, taking that from Laura pushed me over a plateau in the healing process. I can't help that.” Derek stands up, swinging at Peter who dodges his punches with scary precision. “I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you.”

The moment Stiles and Fallon rush out of the exit door, they hear the loud sound of glass shattering. The brunette hesitates, but is pulled forward by Stiles. She looks back with only enough time to see Derek crawling away from Peter, the older man getting ready to abuse his nephew’s body again. She ignores the grunts and sounds of colliding fists, not knowing who is winning at this point.

And truthfully, she doesn’t want to know.

*ೃ༄ tags˚◞♡ ⃗

@iamaslytherin0 @famousrunaway1329

#derek hale #stiles stilinski #female reader #love story #lydia martin #scott mccall #teen wolf #allison argent #chris argent #jackson whittemore #melissa mccall #noah stilinski #teen wolf season 1 #derek hale imagine #derek hale x oc #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic

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hywonuka · 3 days ago

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lost all my dignity | jww

every step that i take is a mistake to you, chapter 2

Sypnosis: 2 weeks into the dare and Wonwoo feels like he has made no progress, but he doesn’t pressure himself. After all, he has time. Or at least that’s what he thought, as someone new comes on the scene.

Pairing: college!wonwoo x college!fem!reader

Genre: college au, falling for a bet or dare trope, slow burn

Warnings: cursing, jealous wonwoo

Word count: 1.8K

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Cold January mornings were one of Wonwoo’s biggest enemies. Waking up early on a cold January morning was his biggest enemy. Make it even worse by waking up early on Sunday, but he couldn’t say no to Jeonghan whenever he called him to eat breakfast together. Even if it meant leaving the comfort of his bed, he couldn’t ditch one of his closest friends, so he got up and picked up some of his warmest clothes, as he has a busy day today. He wasn’t only meeting up with Jeonghan for breakfast, but also for tutoring some junior student and, after lunch, he was meeting up with Y/N. He froze as he remembered that.

The task given to them wasn’t the most difficult, but it required a lot of work. Y/N thought of displaying some of the Art and Design students artwork, and needed screens for that. But she also needed everything to be perfect, as she had insisted to Wonwoo. There were also some Dramatic Art’s students that wanted to do a performance, which required the need of a computer engineer and, of course, Wonwoo was asked to do it.

He sighed as he left his dorm room, carrying all what he needed for today in his backpack. At least he would get to spend some time with Y/N, which he needed. It has already been 2 weeks of the dare, and he has made no improvement. He can’t afford losing against Wonwoo, not when his dignity was in game.

“You seem pretty lost in thought” Jeonghan pointed out, as he took a sip of his dark coffee. “Have a lot on mind lately”.

“Is it about the open day stuff?? It’s at the beginning of March, I don’t even know why she is so eager on getting stuff done now”

“She said something about the Dramatic Art’s students needing to practice for their performance or something like that”. The tallest one said, taking a bite of his chocolate croissant. It’s not like he minded , after all it benefits him, and he also liked helping her.

“Damn…” Wonwoo looked at the blonde guy suspiciously. He knew his friend and knew there was something behind that damn.

“What is it?”

“Nothing”

“Liar” Jeonghan shrugged his shoulders, laughing, which made Wonwoo wonder what did his friend have in mind, but he couldn’t ask, as Vernon suddenly appeared and took a seat next to him. The youngest one smiled at his friends and took a bite of Wonwoo’s breakfast.

“Morning fellas” He said, munching the piece of croissant he stole from the one with glasses. “Hmmm, dark chocolate, great choice Wonwoo”

“I didn’t give you permission to eat my food, idiot” The youngest one stuck his tongue at Wonwoo, while Jeonghan laughed at them.

“Well, well, Vernon, do you happen to have any plans today?”

“Not really, today is my day off, why?”

“Would you come to the cinema with me? I proposed it to Wonwoo, but he is busy with some lady” Wonwoo rolled his eyes. Of course, Vernon smirked when he listened to that, and decided to tease Wonwoo.

“Oooh, are you finally overcoming your fear of women?? Will you ask her out, huh?” The tallest one looked at his friend, serious. He wanted to slap him. How could he ask her out if he can’t even make small talk without freaking out?

“Vernon, behave. You shouldn’t tease him that much, c’mon, he might finally lose his virginity!!” As those words escaped Jeonghan’s mouth, both him and Vernon started laughing loudly, driving all the attention to their table, while Wonwoo could feel his cheeks turning red. Why did they have to keep mentioning that, for God’s sake!!

Before he could speak up, the sudden entrance of two people at the cafeteria made him shut down. It was Y/N and… Chan.

From the last weeks, Wonwoo had learnt that they both were really close, something he didn’t like. At all. He couldn’t explain why it bothered him so much, it just bothered him. Vernon and Jeonghan noticed the change of demeanour of his friend, and quickly discovered why.

“Scared you are gonna lose because she already has a boyfriend?” Vernon whispered, unable to Jeonghan to listen. Wonwoo threw his napkin at him. He didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of her and Chan dating made him feel uneasy.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.

The day passed by pretty quickly, and now Wonwoo found himself in the Art and Design faculty building, looking for Y/N and getting whatever she had on mind done. He had a hard time tutoring today, and wasn’t in the mood of doing anything at all. So, when he finally found her, laughing along with Chan (God, did he know the concept of personal space?), his face completely changed. He was annoyed, but only because he didn’t want to lose that dare.

“Oh, hi Wonu!” Wonwoo faked a smile at the nickname Y/N had picked for him. She thought it was cute and fitted him. He wouldn’t say he secretly enjoyed when she said that. “Hey, you two. Why is he here?”

“Wonu, this is Chan, one of Dramatic Art former students. Chan, this is Wonu, he is in charge of all the electronic part”

Wonwoo already knew Chan. He met the short blonde guy at some Jeonghan’s party a couple years ago. He even remembers he was accompanying her. Maybe they have been secretly dating since then?

“It's a pleasure” The tall one said, shaking hands with the other guy. “The pleasure is mine”

“Chan will be joining us today with the preparations!! He takes part in the performance, so i thought it would be nice if he was around, telling us how to display the screens better”

So he was there basically to do part of his job? Great, what a way to finish the day. This only made things worse, how is he even gonna dare to break a couple just for a stupid bet?! He was better than that.

He needed to know if it was just the voices in his head or if they were both truly dating, so he did what a normal person would do: ask someone else.

[wonwoo]: hey hao

[wonwoo]: can i ask u smth?

He waited, as he pretended to be connecting some wires to his laptop. God, what was taking his friend so long?!

[minghao psycho]: sure

God, finally. Wonwoo looked around, making sure both of them were busy doing whatever.

[wonwoo]: are y/n and chan dating????

He could see his friend typing. Oh, great, he can see it coming. Minghao was gonna scold him for not caring if she was already with someone else earlier.

[minghao psycho]: not that im aware

[minghao psycho]: but they are hella close

[wonwoo]: thx man

Wonwoo sighed. Well, Minghao didn’t scold him, that was something good. He was about to put his phone in his back pocket, when a sudden vibration made him look again. It was Minghao. Okay, now he was fucked up.

[minghao psycho]: honestly i cant believe you are asking this NOW and to ME like wtf??? you have been 2 weeks onto this dare and you only care bout her relationship status when you realize she might be taken?? and not only that, you come ask me?? im not even close to them dude

[wonwoo]: ur girl is

[minghao psycho]: im not asher

[minghao psycho]: hope they are actually dating so you feel bad bout attempting to break a couple

[minghao psycho]: was about to type breaking as if you actually could lmao

Wonwoo was tempted to block Minghao. God, yeah, he was wrong about the whole dare thing, but he was drunk and didn’t think straight when he accepted, and now it’s not like he could back out and pretend it never happened. He had to win this. His pride was in game at this point.

He looked back at Chan and Y/N. They were focused on their conversation, acting touchy and laughing with each other. The sight of them together made him want to throw up. He had to do something. No, he needed to do something.

He took a long breath, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. He finished connecting all the wires, and walked straight where Chan and Y/N were talking. The blonde guy was doing some sort of dance, that made her laugh. He truly couldn’t stand the sight of it, so he approached them with quicker steps. He was about to call out her name, when he stepped onto his shoelaces and felt himself falling down. He would have completely fallen onto the floor if it wasn’t due to a strong arm holding him.

“Dude, everything is okay?” Chan asked, still holding Wonwoo in his arms, who was completely red. He has made a complete fool of himself, and the worst part is that he couldn’t see a thing.

“Fuck, my glasses…” The tallest one whispered, cursing under his breath. The frame of his glasses were broken in half. Great, those had been expensive, and now he has to pay again for them to get repaired. He couldn’t even look for them, as Chan kept him in his embrace, and it’s not like he could actually see them.

“Wonu, are you okay?” Fuck, he also has humiliated himself in front of her.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine…”

“Let me fix your glasses”

“Huh? There is no need, Y/N, it’s… fine”

“Don’t be stupid, Wonu. I’ll fix it… Gimme a sec”

“She is really good with her hands, she will fix them” What did Chan just say?! Wonwoo felt his face turning completely red, he really hoped none of them noticed… Wait, how did Chan know that? No way. They were actually dating.

He didn’t notice when the shorter one stopped grabbing him, or when she left looking for adhesive tape. He was way too lost in thought for that. He couldn’t focus on anything else, not now that he saw clearly that Chan and Y/N were together. Why did it hurt so badly? It was just a stupid dare, he had no reason to feel that way.

“Are you fine?” Chan’s voice brought Wonwoo to reality. He hated that guy now.

“Yeah, I am. Thanks for catching me” He might hate him, but he wasn’t rude.

“It’s nothing…”

Silence. Great, what Wonwoo needed right now, a tense atmosphere. He wanted to leave and hide under his blanket. He could feel Chan’s eyes on him, but completely ignored it. He would blame it on his poor eyesight and the lack of his glasses if the other guy ever mentioned it.

After a couple minutes, that felt like hours, she returned with his glasses taped. She gave them to him, who looked at his glasses with a hint of sadness.

“It’s the best I could do…”

“Don’t worry Y/N, it’s not your fault… Thanks…” He said, shyly smiling at him. God, he couldn’t wait for this awful day to end.

A/N: i wanted to have this done for sunday but uni is absolutely killing me TT i rlly hope i can get to write next chapter soon cuz its one of my relax moments hehe… anyways, any thoughts on chan and y/n relationship and how it can affect wonwoo?? hehehe anyways hope yall like im gonna get some rest mwaks

Taglist: @adonisbtch @mydearhangel @wonvsmile @wonuilu @peachyaeger @minwonwoozi @syluslittlecrows @divigo @coupsgfsstuff @jennwonwoo

#seventeen #college au #seventeen fanfic #falling for a bet or dare trope #fluff #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #kpop #wonu #seventeen wonwoo #wonu x reader

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lanechester · 1 year ago

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Ok but Oliver and Carter really do have this underrated fantastic dynamic. Because yes, the constant bickering and jabs and jokes are pure comedy but there's also some really important scenes between them. Oliver being the first to hear about his neverending tale with Shayera and telling him to give up the death wish and fight for the friends he initially stayed for. Then cut to Carter offering condolence when Chloe is MIA in season 10. Theres still that snarky back and forth in Oliver's "you're not gonna hug me are you?" But deep down there was heart there. And they always got the message even with the grumpy façade

#smallville #oliver queen #carter hall #he was just really important to the jla as a whole once they softened him up #they all helped each other and ugh i love it #don't even get me started on what he did for clark and lois #right now is oliver cause i just rewatched that AJ scene and man #might have to do a full rewatch of the hawkman eps specifically. or maybe just season 9 and 10 #whole show eventually but for reasons unknown (very known) hawkmans arc has been on my mind a lot lately #he was just done really well and i have no other iterations to compare it to but i don't need them i just feel it #absolute justice is an absolute banger and should be rewatched often #and shield? beatiful. icarus? yes.#it was a small roll but it turned out so great #sv carter you will always be famous #anyway on that long winded note. good night loves from your local one woman carter suppprt squad

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obsesssedblerd · 4 months ago

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You look up from your book to see your husband standing over the bassinet with his arms crossed, his brow raising as he looks down inside of it with a tiny scowl. He stays like that for about a minute. You sit up in your shared bed, then call out to him. “Ryo.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t look up.

“May I ask what you are doing?”

“The little brat is staring,” Sukuna says matter-of-factly. “I am simply staring at her in return.”

Inside of the bassinet, your baby daughter coos. Her scarlet eyes—exactly like her father’s—glitter with interest. You hear her giggle, and you scoff lightly and return your gaze to your book. “She thinks you’re playing a game.”

“I am doing no such thing.”

You flip a page. “Put a hand over your face for a few seconds.” He doesn’t respond, but you know he listens. “M’kay, now lift.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then your daughter bursts into a fit of giggles.

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “I do not understand what is so entertaining about that.” When you look up again, you see that he’s covering his face again, then revealing himself to get the same reaction from the baby.

“It’s called peek-a-boo. It’s a game most babies love to play.”

The little princess babbles as she lifts her arms up, and Sukuna tilts his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You snicker. “One: You’ll figure out what she’s saying the more you talk with her. Two: She wants you to pick her up.”

He sighs dramatically, then reaches into the bassinet to pick up the small girl. Though she has her father’s eyes, she has your hair, the shape of your nose, and your ears. She also has your fearlessness, because she smiles directly in the face of the king of curses. Now at his eye level, she reaches her arms towards him excitedly. “What is it now, you brat? I’m already carrying you.”

He looks over at you in question, and your smile grows. “She wants to touch your face,” you say.

“Why?”

“Because she’s a baby, and she’s curious.”

Sukuna pulls her closer, and once in range, his daughter lays her tiny hands against his marked face. She giggles more, and you can see his eyes soften. “Hmph. You have your mother’s smile.”

— — — —

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen where you hear Sukuna speaking with someone. When he turns to the side, you see your daughter nestled in the crook of one of his muscular arms, staring up at him as he concluded whatever story he was telling her.

“...At the end of the battle, only I remained. Victory was mine.”

The baby babbles excitedly, and Sukuna scoffs. “Ha, you will do no such thing. How do you expect to join me in battle when you aren’t even a year old, brat?”

Her face scrunches in what looks like annoyance, and she repeats to him what he taught her the night before. “Hmph.”

You burst into laughter, and Sukuna raises a brow at the little girl in his arms. “Great. Your mother’s smile, and her attitude.”

#more sukuna fluff bc why tf not #lol I just love making this evil villain a big softie #girl dad sukuna #sukuna fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x female reader #sukuna x y/n #written by rey <3 #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you

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inbabylontheywept · 2 months ago

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the house i grew up in was a little bit of a fixer upper. for the first 19 years, my dad just sort of slowly fixed it, but pretty early on in college, he came into a large amount of cash and decided to just do the whole thing at once. so he rented a different house for like, 2 months that was just a block down from us, and then got a bunch of contractors to fix original house ASAP. it was kind of crazy, but it compressed many years of work into like, three months.

the sitting in a new house for three months was actually pretty fun. and i shouldnt really complain at all (staying at home while in college is a sweet deal)

but.

but. my parents are fairly hard of hearing, and their bedroom in the old house was in the furthest possible annex from everyone else. wheras in the rental it was just in the middle of the house. so without going into details, i was extremely aware that my parents were having sex like, eight times a day. my dad had just retired and i guess they were celebrating, which is great i guess, having parents that really like each other is way better than the alternative, but also, it did make me envy their deafness. i kept headphones on for so long that year i got literal ear calluses.

at the same time, the house my buddy from the shoe incident grew up in flooded. turbo flooded. they burst like, two pipes at once and the damage was so severe they had to redo all the flooring and all the drywall. his family actually had homeowners insurance, which is either incredible or suspicious for a family that used the drained pool in their backyard to store rusty scrap metal. so insurance was handling the work, but in the meantime, they were crammed into a very small hotel room space. we did the math on it then, it averaged about 80 square feet a person.

so one day i got home, and i was chilling, and then six rolled around, and apparently six o'clock was sex o'clock because my parents decided to flex their cardio. i grabbed my headphones and prayed that god would do for me what he did for beethoven, but that failed to work, and then seven rolled around and my parents were still at it, which again, very impressive, but was pushing me to swap out judas for mozart in those prayers. there's a definitive point where you stop praying to be deaf and instead pray that god could take you to a nice field and pop you like a gore-balloon.

i was about five minutes away from that point when my friend called me and basically said i have been stuck in a 500 square foot space with 6 people and i didn't have many marbles to start but what few i had are gone. please. if we are friends, if we were ever friends, take me out of here just for a moment.

and i was still pretty mad at him, but i had pity on the poor guy. also helped that i was desperate to leave the house. so i drove the chickenshitmobile to the hotel and i picked him up, and then we did our normal hangout activity, which was go to food city and buy produce. his normal house was, on a good day, nasty, and his backyard was, as i stated before, mostly used to store mosquito larvae and rusty metal, so what we'd always done before was just walk to the grocery store a half block away and leer at vegetables.

so we did that and it was like old times again. they had some radishes that were expired, so i could buy like, literally an entire grocery bag of them for about $5. so i did. i really like radishes. he got a coconut because he liked fruit and beating things with hammers.

which probably would've been great except we didn't have a hammer, so instead we spent about 30 minutes stomping itike it owed us money. when it finally cracked we cheered like we just got the winning touchball at the superdome and then he ate some of the flesh, and i ate some of the radishes, and we admired the black, starless sky of the city before i took him back to his hotel room.

and then we got pulled over.

i forgot to turn my lights on because the street all around the food city was ludicrously well lit. so it went from being pretty bright, to pretty bright and flashy, then i pulled into a parking lot and a cop came to ask us for IDs which is where everything went to shit:

i’d forgotten my license at home.

the cop was was actually kind of chill about it - he said he could get by with just an address. except i did not know my address. i hadn't memorized the new one yet. so i told the cop, my house is getting remodeled, i don't know my address right now. and then he went to my friend, and my friend said the exact same thing. house getting remodeled, staying somewhere else, no address, sowwwwwwy.

now the cop genuinely didn't know what to do. he went back to his car, and i was stressed that i was about to get into HUGE trouble so i started eating the radishes and my buddy started eating more of his coconut, and we actually managed to eat like a quarter of both before the cop came back. we ate enough produce that he could smell something weird in the air, and he asked what the smell was, and i said radishes, and my buddy said coconut, and the cop said which, and then we produced a large bag of droopy radishes and an absolutely brutalized coconut, and the cop was just like

so my buddy tried explaining how he was sharing a 500 square foot apartment with 6 people and wanted a fruit he could fight with power tools, and i tried explaining how i'd actually tried buying my parents like, board games and puzzles and stuff but nothing worked - the only thing my parents seemed to like doing right now was each other, and we both went on long enough and pathetically enough that the cop eventually went:

ok. stop.

and we stopped.

and he said do you know why i pulled you over?

and i said, because of my headlights, and my friend (who is hispanic) and the cop both looked at me like like i was the dumbest person in the entire world. and then the cop said no. that's why i'm allowed to pull you over. i checked your car because this neighborhood has a terrible sex trafficking problem, and i pull over every car i can to make sure no one is buying or selling sex. and you two are obviously doing neither. now i could give you, like, four tickets right now, but that would do nothing to make this area safer, so just turn your lights on, go home, drive safe, and try to be less stupid in the future.

and i said okay but i was thinking, you know, damn, this is just how i live man, i don't have a hidden third gear i can shift into. people can't just get smarter because it would be convenient. it's always convenient to be smart. i am literally trying my best.

but i didn't say anything because i was, slowly, learning how to filter what i said. instead i nodded and the cop left then i dropped my buddy off, and the last thing he said was said he owed me for responding to his SOS. I said he owed me for a lot of things, and he agreed that was true. then i drove home with my lights on, 5 under the speed limit, and arrived to a peaceful quiet home. I could’ve wept with relief but instead I went to bed.

the relief was short lived. i was woken up at 6 am by my parents. i swore, and then i prayed, and when i did not explode, i swore again. then i got up to make breakfast before my first class.

#babylon-lore #anecdotes #funny stories #the second dumbest traffic stop of my life #the first happened on a date with my wife #and it's a pretty good story #i #ll get around to that one eventually #like its not shoe story good but it's a funny little incident

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fairy-angel222 · 9 months ago

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𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—your boyfriend does not appreciate you, but his uncle toji does.

pairing: toji x fem! reader

content: smut, cheating, unprotected sex, choking, petnames, praise, a little degradation, toji’s hot ass has tattoos, belly bulge, cumming inside you

You couldn’t really pinpoint when things went wrong. When your boyfriend just lost interest in you. You couldn’t even date back the last time you had been fucked. Simply turning his body when you tried to start something, or using the excuse that he wasn’t in his mood and that you needed to stop being so needy.

But how could you? You just needed to feel something. Anything. You were so tired of using your fingers when he left for work. Or the shower head on your clit when you showered alone, which was now always.

Your relationship was failing, but you couldn’t find it in you to break up with him.

You were quite confused when your boyfriend invited you over for a dinner at his parents. Getting to meet all his family as he introduced you with a wide smile, hands on the small of your back to guide you from person to person.

There was somebody who stuck out like a sore thumb. And you couldn’t take your eyes off of the man was probably twice your age and most definitely twice your size. Tall, broad and muscular with tattoos of all shapes and sizes trailing down his neck and onto his toned arms.

You swallowed hard, ignoring the heat you felt in between your legs as you ogled the greek god infront of you. With his messy black hair and dark eyes, a smirk spread across his handsome face as he tilted his head to stare you down. Hands in his pockets as he strolled towards you, your hand gripping your boyfriend’s shirt as you felt yourself getting smaller and smaller under his gaze.

“Now who’s this pretty thing?” The deep voice questioned, looking down at you with the subtle bite of his lip as he let his gaze run over your figure. “You’re not gonna introduce your lil ole uncle to your girlfriend?”

Your boyfriend scoffed, rolling his eyes and pulling you closer into him. “I have no need to. Now beat it.”

You frowned at his harsh tone. Toji’s hands raising in defense as he chuckled. “Just trynna be nice.” His smirk widening when he turned to face you fully. “Now, what’s your name doll?”

Your knees grew weak at the deep rasp of his voice, avoiding eye contact when you felt yourself face getting hot. “uh.. y/n, my name’s y/n.”

Toji hummed, grabbing hold of your hand and bending down to place a kiss to the back of it. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He winked.

“Okay that’s enough. You can go now.” Your boyfriend fumed, your eyes never leaving the older man’s as he took his leave, leaving you with a short. “Nice to meet ya, doll” before he walked away.

“We’re leaving.”

Your eyes widened at your boyfriend’s words. “What? Baby why? Your family seems so nice we can’t just leave.” You tried to convince him.

“We can when you’re looking at my fucking uncle like he’s a five course meal.”

You resisted the urge to scoff, maybe you wouldn’t have to if he did what he was supposed to. “I promise you, i wasn’t. Now let’s at least enjoy an hour for dinner before we leave. Okay?”

Your boyfriend only scoffing before shrugging your arm off of him and walking away into the kitchen.

Great. This was just what you needed.

The dinner was awkward for you. Your boyfriend wouldn’t talk to you and kept glaring at his uncle. Who only added fuel to the fire by sending short smirks your way, his muscles flexing as he ate.

You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, fidgeting with the food in your plate as you bit down on your lip.

“Y/n, dear? Are you okay?” your boyfriend’s mother asked in genuine concern. “You have barely touched your food honey.”

You gave her a smile. “Sorry, i’m just feeling a little sick right now.”

“Oh dear, would you like to go to the bathroom? Darling, show her the way.” his mom insisted. Your boyfriend not even sparing you a glance when he spoke, “I’m sure she knows the way, mom.”

You sighed, a piece of you missing the relationship you once had. Giving a tight lipped smile and assuring her that you knew the way before getting out of your seat and heading to the nearest bathroom.

You stood staring at yourself in the mirror, rubbing at the bridge of your nose while telling yourself to get your act together. You gasped when the door swung open. A smirking Toji closing the door behind him and leaning onto it, his hands crossed over his chest as he looked you in the eyes.

“You know, for a girl pretty like you, you sure are stupid.” He laughed, “Don’t you see you deserve better than my scumbag of a nephew?” Closing the gap between you two until you were backed up against the sink’s counter.

Toji’s hand reached up to stroke gently under your cheek, trailing his finger across your lip as he bent his neck to look down at you. In turn looking up at him through your lashes when his other hand held onto your waist.

“You gotta know how a real man treats a lady. How a real man fucks. You want that doll?” Waiting for your shy nod of approval before sitting you on the cool marble top. Your legs hooked around his waist and your hands gripping the counter’s edge when his rough lips met yours. Kissing you hard before trailing soft bites down your neck, careful enough to not leave any marks.

You let out a moan, Toji’s hands moving to peel off his shirt so his rock hard abs were on display. Grinding lightly onto the hard surface with a whimper at the full sight of black ink spread across his pale skin. A grin on his face when he went back to attacking your neck, hand slipping under your dress and pressing against the heat of your panties.

“This wet for me already? I’m flattered.” His fingers making their way to rub between your folds through the side of the fabric. Collecting your wetness before dipping a finger into you. “Think you can take it doll? You’re so fucking tight. Practically a virgin again, how long’s it been since you were given a good fuck?”

You truly didn’t know the answer for yourself. Only moaning as Toji pulled off the lace material, spreading your legs wider and pulling his thick cock out the confinements of his jeans. You whimpered when Toji stroked his length, the size being bigger than anything you’d seen before. “‘S alright, ‘m gonna mold her round my cock.” he groaned, lining up with your sopping hole before slowly thrusting into you.

“Nnhg— so big, T-Tojii— can’t take it.” you mewled, Toji’s hand latching over your mouth to muffle your pleas as he forced himself deep into you. “Gonna make it fit doll, just sit real pretty for me and take it yeah?”

You nodded with a shaky moan, your pussy stretching to accommodate his thick girth as he bottomed out inside you. Grunting heavily at how tight you were around him, his cock so deep that he could see himself bulging in your stomach through the thin fabric of your dress.

Toji started off slowly. Your moans increasing in volume as he sped up. The burning sensation turning into nothing but pleasure as he fucked into you, ricking your body back and forth with each thrust.

Toji’s hand fell from your lips, the tattooed skin finding itself wrapped snugly around your neck instead. His cock grazing your gummy spot as he leaned into your ear. “This is exactly what you need doll. Need me to fuck that pretty little pussy so good.” he grunted. “Exactly what your dumb boyfriend failed to do.”

You could only let out a cry, your smaller hands holding tightly onto the arm around your throat. Digging your nails into his flesh as you moaned out into the air. Your lips parted in a string of mewls as the older man’s cock pierced deep into the depths of your insides. Fucking perfectly into your g spot before bullying its way to the entrance of your cervix.

The unfamiliar sensation making you cry out even louder as your head fell back. “T-toji- ahh— so good Toji, feels s’ good.” you cried, your legs trembling around him with curled toes.

“Careful now doll, as much as i would love for him to hear me fucking you right, there’s other people out there.” he teased, your pussy clenching when your eyes met his. Your eyes glassy and your head fuzzy as you were fucked into oblivion.

Letting out a whimper when his grip tightened unintentionally on your throat. Drool falling past the sides of your lips as your eyes fixed on his v line, up to his abs then further until you reached his face. Finding his dark irises staring back down at you hungrily before pulling you closer to him.

His large body swallowing yours when he pressed you up against him. Your moans and cries getting noisy again as you felt yourself getting close. “Tojiii— nnh, ‘m so c-close, ahh— gonna cum.”

“Yeah doll? Close f’ me? Gonna make a mess on this old man’s cock?” he rasped, broad hips still rolling hard into yours as he watched your mouth hang open slightly, your eyes rolling back before closing completely as you reached your high.

Body shaking and pussy spasming around him as your pussy held onto his cock like a vice, letting out a choked scream muffled by Toji’s knowing kiss as you came. Squirting messily onto his cock with the quiver of your hips.

“So fucking hot.” Toji groaned as he pulled away from you. Your breathing noticeably heavy as he fucked you through the aftermath of your orgasm. “Fuck, gonna cum. Where’d you want it?” he breathed.

And you let out a mewl as his thrusts grew sloppy, veiny cock twitching against your walls as he got ready to release. “Fuck, gotta hurry up and tell me doll.”

“Nnhg— inside, want you inside.” you moaned, “C-cum inside me.. please.”

Toji’s pupils dilated and his grin grew wide. “You’re a slutty one in disguise aren’t ya? ‘S my pleasure baby.” His thrusts becoming merciless as he slammed into you. Using your pussy to stroke his cock as you choked out little cries at the fast pace.

“Fuck, gon’ fill you up so good.” he panted, “Gon’ stuff you so full that you’ll be begging to be my good girl again.” his cock throbbed, “Shit— there we go, that’s it doll.” Spilling spurts of his hot cum into your cunt. Making you moan at how easily he filled you up.

Toji gave his final slow thrusts before he was pulling out of you, letting his cum seep out as he helped you put back on your panties. Trapping his seed deep inside you with a hum. “Feel better doll?” he smirked, giving you a short kiss to your lips and laughing as you tried to not let him go.

“Come back to me when you gain some sense and drop that asshole, okay? I’ll be waiting.” Pulling his shirt back on and tucking himself into his boxers, giving you a wink before trying to fix his hair. Your eyes glued onto his back as he walked out the bathroom door.

Leaving you touching your lips that just felt his tongue. Your heart beating faster before you were startled by hard knocking on the door followed by your boyfriend’s voice. “Can you hurry up in there? You’re making my mother think you’re dying or something.”

You closed your eyes and let out a breath, thoughts of Toji plaguing your mind and keeping you calm. “Coming!”

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji x reader smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #jjk toji #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x reader smut

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chosok-amo · 3 months ago

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GOOD GIRL GO TO HEAVEN

GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU . . . after a long day of assembling a lot of furniture and decorating your new house, they decided they want to test drive the new bed with you.

warning : painfully slow, threesome! satosugu, raw/unprotected sex, humping, daddy kink (just a little bit), praise kink.

w/c : 8k

you and your boyfriends, gojo satoru and geto suguru, wrapped up the furniture assembly just an hour ago. now, they’re lounging comfortably on the new bed, looking relaxed and content. after finishing your shower, you step out wrapped only in a towel, the warm steam still clinging to your skin. you walk over to your wardrobe, glancing over at them with a playful smile.

“so, how’s the bed, honey?” you ask with genuine curiosity. your voice is soft, dripping with tenderness.

“it’s great and so spacious, baby,” gojo answers. he sits up on the bed, his white shirt hugging his toned chest, and watches you approach the wardrobe. beside him, geto moves, spreading his legs languidly as he leans back against the headboard. the sheets fall around his hips, barely covering his lower half. he gives you a lazy smile. “the bed’s not the only thing that spacious here, right, sweetheart?”

“yeah?” you turn around to look at them before pulling out a black oversized t-shirt that belongs to geto from the wardrobe. they stare at you for a moment before gojo opens his mouth. “come here.” gojo says, patting his lap. you look at him and see the mischievous look in his eyes, “i need to… see something.” geto chuckles, knowing full well what gojo plans to do. “you heard him, baby,” he added.

“what?” you ask him, smiling as you refuse to walk over to him and stand in your place.

“i said come here,” he says again, a demanding undertone in his voice now. gojo stares at you pointedly while geto watches with a smirk on his face, his eyes roaming unabashedly over your half-naked body.

“i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re planning to do,” you respond, cocking an eyebrow. gojo’s hand pats his lap again impatiently. “i’ll show you when you come here.” geto rolls his eyes with a smile on his face, “just come here, baby girl. be good for us and i promise we’ll make you feel good too.”

“should i?” you playfully ask and close your wardrobe door. “you should, if you know what’s good for you,” gojo demand, a small smirk stretches across gojo’s face. by now he’s growing a little impatient. gojo is not a man who particularly likes to repeat himself.

“unless you want me to come get you myself?” he raises an eyebrow in challenge. behind him, geto chuckles to himself, clearly enjoying this interaction between you two.

“oh, i'm scared,” you sarcastically replied but made your way towards them, crawling from the feet of the bed before settling on gojo's lap. as you crawl over, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in until you’re sitting on his lap, the towel around your body riding up. gojo’s hands start to wander, lightly caressing your bare thighs. you can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“are you gonna behave now, baby?” he asks, his voice low and sultry, “or are you still gonna sass me?” his blue eyes piercing through yours, making all the playfulness on you start to disappear, “sorry..” you mumble.

“you’ll have to do better than that,” he murmurs. gojo’s hands slide up your thighs, past the towel, as he leans in until his mouth is right next to your ear. “say you’re sorry again, sweetheart.”

“sorry, daddy..”

gojo lets out a soft grunt when you call him that, his mouth is still close to your ear. his breath is warm on your neck, “much better, baby.” he moves his mouth down until he’s nuzzling your throat instead. “there you go, being good for me, sweetheart.”

geto has been watching quietly until now, his eyes trained on the two of you as you sit on gojo’s lap. when you say ‘daddy’ his eyes darken a little more, watching intently as gojo turns his attention to your bare shoulders. “you look so good on his lap, don’t you sweetheart?” geto suddenly speaks up, his voice a little husky. “all bare and pretty just for us.”

the room feels warmer now like the heat is starting to build up around the three of you. gojo’s mouth brushes over your shoulder, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on your skin. “look at you, all nice and obedient,” he murmurs against your skin. “do you know what good girls get when they're being good?”

you close your eyes as you feel his lips on your skin— suddenly feeling all cold and chilling just from his touch, barely. “what is it?” you mumble a question.

“rewards.”

gojo’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer to him. his mouth drifts towards your neck. “if you keep being good, we’ll reward you properly, sweetheart. would you like that?” he pulled himself away from you to look you in the eye as you opened your eyes. your warm breath gently glazed gojo's pale skin, bringing a crushed cherry tint to his cheeks. “yes, please..” your voice soft.

gojo smiles, running his finger along your spine, making you shiver, and a soft moan leaves your lips. “see, that’s what i like to hear. you sound so much sweeter when you’re being a good girl.” gojo’s voice is low, and he’s speaking close to your ear again. he moves a hand up, tilting your head till he can look you in the face. his smile is a little smug as he looks down at you. “how about we get rid of this towel?” you nodded when you looked at him, eyes hooded.

“good girl.”

gojo reaches behind you, finding the edge of the towel around your body. he slowly starts to pull it away, his eyes never leaving your face. the towel falls, the fabric pooling around your waist as your chest and abdomen are left bare. gojo hums in approval, his eyes roaming over your body. “there that’s much better.”

“look at you,” he murmurs. his hands on your thighs start to slowly move further up your body, roaming up your hips and over your ribcage, almost as if he's trying to memorize every part of you with just his hands. “you look so pretty, sweetheart. you're being so good for us. so pretty and obedient.”

“oh, you are so pretty,” geto adds, his voice soft as he looks at you sitting half-naked on gojo’s lap. he’s lounging against the headboard now, legs slightly spread. the sheets over his lap are beginning to tent.

gojo chuckles as he notices geto’s current state. “see what you do to him, sweetheart?” gojo’s own hands are still roaming over your body, caressing your soft skin. his hands brush just below your chest, his touch gentle and almost reverential as he looks at you.

gojo’s mouth moves over your skin, his lips tracing up and down the line of your throat until he reaches your ear again. “look at him,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. he’s looking over at geto right now, who’s watching the two of you intently, his eyes on your body. “he’s enjoying himself, sweetheart. he’s enjoying seeing you in my lap, like the good girl you are.”

geto looks you over with unabashed interest, his gaze roaming over your body. “you’re such a sight to see all spread out like that,” he murmurs. the sheets over his lap are tented, more noticeably now. gojo nips at your earlobe, his hands cupping your ribs as he pulls you closer against him. “look how much he wants you, baby.”

gojo laughs faintly when you let out a moan, like he finds it endearing. “you like that, sweetheart?” he asks, his mouth still against your skin. “you like it when i bite you?"

he continues doing it, his mouth trailing down the side of your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin and leaving small marks. you answer him by letting out another soft moan.

“you’re so soft,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by your skin. “so easy to mark. i want to see how much of you i can mark up, doll.”

geto shifts a little on the bed, his hands gripping his thighs through the sheets. the tent in his pants is more obvious now, and he’s watching you both intently. “she’s going to be covered in marks at this rate,” he grumbles.

“i’m not hearing any objections,” gojo responds, his hands caressing your sides. he lifts his head from your neck and looks at you.

gojo’s eyes darken as he looks you over, his hands continuing to caress your sides. he’s clearly enjoying seeing you in this state, all bare and on his lap, with geto watching you intently from the bed.

“you look so pretty like this, sweetheart. all bare and marked up on my lap” he murmurs, his gaze roaming over the various marks he’s left on your neck. “and so obedient,” he added.

“i am?” you whispering, voice cover with hope.

at your words, gojo smiles against your skin. they exchange knowing looks before gojo answers you. “yes, you are, baby.” he continues his assault on your neck, his kisses slowly turning into nibbles and sucking motions, marking you with his mouth.

geto watches hungrily as gojo lays claim to you, his hand still tracing lazy patterns on your thigh from where he sits. “so sweet, so perfect for us,” he compliments, his voice low and rough with desire.

“you’re so responsive too, aren’t you?” gojo’s hands wander down to your bare thighs. he squeezes them gently as if testing your reaction. “responding so well to my touch. so eager to please,” he moaned.

geto lets out a small sigh from the bed, his hands now clenching the sheets around his lap tightly. your thigh slightly twitches from gojo's touch as if to show him the truth of his words. “see how you respond so easily to my hands?” gojo continues, his palms continuing to caress your thighs. he’s watching your reactions intently. “that’s good, sweetheart. it’s so fun to see how easily you respond.”

“it’s getting hard to watch,” geto suddenly mutters from the bed, his voice strained. gojo laughs faintly at geto’s comment. “then stop watching if it’s so easy,” he replies, his hands continuing their gentle caresses.

he pulls you a little closer to him, so you’re pressed even more against his chest. “why are you getting so worked up anyway? you’re acting like you’re not going to get your turn.” gojo looks over at geto and smirks again, clearly enjoying his struggle.

“don’t worry,” he calls out. “you’ll get a turn soon too.” he turns his attention back to you, his hands still wandering over your thighs. “right now i want to see how far i can get you with just my hands, okay?” his blue eyes back to you, gently as he drinks on the sight of your pretty face. geto grumbles a little in response, clearly not enjoying his current state all that much.

gojo’s hands continue to explore your thighs, his touch gentle and almost teasing as his thumbs graze over sensitive skin. “do you think you can handle that, baby?” gojo asks, looking you in the face. “just my hands on your skin?”

you hesitate, wanting to feel his lips on your skin again, but you're too shy to ask, and gojo can clearly see that. gojo smirks at your expression and the way you fidget. “what’s wrong?” he asks teasingly, his hands skimming across your thighs. “can’t seem to find your words? what is it, sweetheart?” his hands continue their slow exploration of your thighs. “you want something?”

when you do not say anything he leans over, lips almost touching you as he speaks, “do you want my lips on your skin again?” he asks, his voice low and sultry. “do you want me to kiss you again, baby?” you nodded as his hands moving up to your hips now. he starts to guide your movements on his lap slightly, just little rocks of your hips.

“use your words, sweetheart. you know i want to hear you say it.” gojo starts to guide your hips, rocking them gently against his lap. his hands on your hips are firm but gentle, as he guides your movements with ease, his body pressed tightly against you.

“i-i want your lips on my skin again..” you murmur, your lips slightly apart. gojo looks at you with his eyebrows arise, as if asking you if you're forgetting something. “please, daddy. . . ” you add.

gojo’s expression softens at the sound of you calling him daddy again. he gives you a small nod as if approving before he speaks. “there you go. that wasn’t so hard, was it?” his hands on your hips continue to guide your movements on his lap. “just good manners, sweetheart. being a good girl for me.”

he leans down, his mouth coming close to your ear again. “since you asked so nicely, i’ll give you what you want, baby.”

instantly, a big smile makes its way to your lips, “thank you, daddy. . .” your hand flaying for a second before it lends on gojo's shoulder, holding him for support. gojo chuckles faintly at the large smile on your face, knowing how much fun you have playing with his kink. “such a good girl,” he murmurs into your ear, his hands continuing to guide your hips and rock against his lap.

“i’m going to give you what you want, so just relax, okay?” gojo’s voice is low and soft in your ear. “just sit there and be a good girl… you can do that, can’t you?” you nodded as you gripped tightly around his white shirt.

“good girl.”

gojo’s mouth moves towards your neck, his teeth and mouth on your skin again. he sucks on your skin gently, his tongue laving over the small mark he’s just made. “you taste so good, sweetheart,” he mutters against your skin. “i don’t want to stop marking you up.”

you moan softly, slightly throwing your head back, “please, don't.” gojo nips and sucks on your neck again, harder this time, his hands on your hips coaxing your movements against his lap.

“keep moaning like that, and i don’t think i’ll be able to stop,” he murmurs, his mouth against your skin. he continues to mark up your skin, his mouth moving up and down the side of your neck, his mouth sucking and biting gently as his tongue laves over the reddened spots. by now your neck is covered in his marks, each one adding up like a trail on your skin.

“oh, god,” you moan from the pleasure of his lips on your skin and from grinding on him. gojo lets out a soft chuckle when you moan against his ear. “already getting worked up just from this, hmm? you’re so sensitive, baby.” he continues sucking on your skin, his hands guiding your hips as you grind on his lap. his mouth moves over your sensitive spots, leaving a trail of marks from your jaw to the base of your collarbone.

geto groans in annoyance as he takes another glare at you and gojo. even in his annoyance, he can't stop looking at the two of you and not feeling jealous. gojo glances over at geto, taking in his expression. “getting impatient?” he asks, his mouth still on your skin. “you look like you’re having a hard time just watching,” he teased, blue eyes glistening with lust and playfulness.

“well, i am having a hard time,” he complained.

gojo chuckles against your skin again. “i see that,” he says mockingly, his eyes on the obvious tent in geto’s lap. “poor geto, having to watch us while he’s stuck on the bed all alone.” gojo’s words are almost patronizing, and he’s clearly enjoying himself now, seeing the look on geto’s face and the way he’s straining against the sheets.

“but that’s not fair for me, is it?” geto threw another complaint with a teasing tone, “i want a taste of her too.” gojo laughed faintly, clearly amused at geto’s words. “life’s not fair,” he replies, his mouth still against your skin, biting and licking.

“though i’ll admit, i’ve been a little greedy, haven’t i?” gojo lifts his head and looks you in the face, one hand caressing your cheek. “how about you, sweetheart? should i stop hogging all the attention?” you look at geto, seeing the pleading in his purple irises as he begs you silently. you chuckled at his expression before nodding and looking at your other boyfriend.

gojo looks at you for a moment, almost as if he’s contemplating. “are you sure? i can keep my hands on you a while longer. you seem to be enjoying it so much,” he softly spoke as if he tries to convince you to say no to geto. gojo’s hands have drifted back to your hips, his thumbs caressing your skin gently. “can the both of you just touch me?” you get impatient. gojo laughs again, clearly enjoying how impatient you’re getting now. “look at you being so eager,” he teases. “is that how good girls ask for what they want?”

you wrap your fingers around gojo's neck to give it a open-mouthed kiss before mumbling on his neck, “i mean, why can i have one when i can get two.”

gojo lets out a soft chuckle at your words. “oh, you’re getting feisty now, hmm?” he pulls you a little closer on his lap, his hands gripping your hips. “you have a point, sweetheart. but that doesn’t change the fact that i like having you all to myself.”

“oh come on!” geto groaned in annoyance, “i wanna feel her too, give me attention.” gojo laughed faintly at geto’s words, clearly enjoying his struggle. “i’m not even done with her yet, and you’re already getting impatient?” he looks you in the face, his eyes roaming over you. “and here i thought you were being such a good girl, not demanding anything.”

“what?” you throwing gojo offended look, “me? i'm just sitting still and looking pretty, i'm not doing anything.”

gojo hummed at your expression, enjoying the look on your face. “i know,” he responds, his hands caressing your thighs. “that’s why you’re being so good for me. you’re being all obedient and still. it’d be such a shame to change that now, huh?”

“uh-uhm,” you nod, this time hugging his neck as you look at geto who's begun to knit his eyebrows together. gojo chuckles again when you hug his neck, his hands moving up your sides, caressing you up and down. “so needy,” he teases faintly. “did you want to give geto some attention?”

still, with your arm wrapped around his neck and cheek resting against his cheek, you nod, “yes, please.” gojo smiles faintly, clearly enjoying having you this eager and submissive for him. he lifts his head from your neck and looks towards geto. “did you hear that, geto? the pretty girl wants to give you attention,” he says, his tone almost mocking.

geto stares at the two of you, his expression a mix of annoyance and arousal. “about time,” he grunts irritably. gojo smirks against your skin, his hand on your thigh giving you an encouraging squeeze. “you heard him, baby. go on. give him what he wants.”

with gojo’s hand guiding you, you shift forward and move off his lap. you settle onto geto’s now, your thighs straddling his hips. in this position, you’re seated up higher on his lap, your chest just slightly above his eyesight.

geto’s hands fly to your waist as you settle on his lap. his fingers press hard into your bare skin as he looks up at you with his sharp, cat-like eyes. “look at you,” he says, his voice deep with lust, looking at your naked body. “you just look so beautiful, sweetheart.”

gojo’s body moves behind you, his chest pressing against your back. you feel him move the shower-damp hair on your neck to the side and out of the way. he leans forward to hover over your shoulder, his lips mere inches away from your neck.

“you look so pretty sitting on his lap, baby,” gojo murmurs in your ear. “so perfect with that towel around you.” his large hand moves to your thigh, his fingers tracing the hem of the towel that still wraps around your waist. “but i think it would look much prettier… on the floor.”

while you’re distracted with geto, one of gojo’s hands sneaks from behind you to tug at the towel. the other hand moves your hair to the side so that it falls over one shoulder, exposing your back to him. the towel falls loose, and gojo starts planting kisses along the slope of your back.

both of geto’s hands press firmly into your hips as he guides your body down and closer to him. he lets out a pleased hum at the feel of your warm skin against his bare chest. “look at you,” he groans, eyes roaming over your form. “so perfect and so good.”

gojo’s lips travel down your spine, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your back. “oh, baby,” he praises as he kisses a spot just above your tailbone, “such a pretty girl. so well-behaved, as always.” his hands move to squeeze both of your thighs. once he’s done admiring the skin there, his hand moves to the small of your back and gently pushes you forward, so that your chest is pressed flush against geto’s.

geto lets out a low, guttural growl as he feels your bare breasts against his chest. “fuck,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tight you know there’s likely to be marks left behind. his head drops forward as he lets his lips trail along your collarbone.

“she has such a pretty body, doesn’t she?” gojo muses, observing your and geto’s bodies so closely pressed together. he starts to leave little kisses on the back of your shoulders, “so good and soft.”

geto can only respond with a low hum of agreement. one of his hands move to grasp at the hair on the back of your head as he buries his face in your neck, his lips sucking on your skin hungrily.

“so small and perfectly perched on your lap.”

geto hums his agreement, his fingers digging into your hips as he helps you shift even closer to him. “sweetheart,” he says, his voice strained. “you feel so good. you have no idea what you’re doing to me, baby.”

gojo chuckles as he continues to kiss your shoulder, “oh, i think she knows exactly what she’s doing to us,” ge can see one of your hands reach down to grab at the skin of geto’s thigh, your fingers digging into his flesh.

geto lets out another small growl as your hand grips his thigh. a shudder goes through his body. “ah, she definitely knows what she’s doing. such a naughty girl.”

“no,” you whisper between your moan when they call you a naughty girl. geto's nails rooted gently on your skin sending a tingling sensation on your stomach. gojo chuckles against your skin. “no? you’re not being a naughty girl?” he nimbly moves to your other shoulder to leave another trail of kisses there. “are you sure about that, princess?”

geto’s hands continue to dig into your hips, controlling your movements. between the skin-to-skin contact of your bodies and gojo’s teeth on your neck, you can feel the tension and heat in the room mounting, slowly but surely.

you shake your head softly before mumbling another “n-no,” and let out another soft, breathy moan.

“you keep saying ‘no’, but i think your body’s saying something different,” gojo points out, his lips moving from your shoulder to the sensitive skin beneath your ear. “you keep shifting in sugu’s lap, and making these little noises. that doesn’t sound very ‘no’ to me, princess.”

“i'm s-sorry,” you stutter.

“sorry?” gojo repeats, chuckling at the way you’re falling apart just from some teasing. “it’s okay, sweetheart.” geto, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during this entire exchange, finally lets out a sharp exhale of breath as one of your hands grip his thigh again. he nuzzles into your neck as his hands grip you even tighter. “are you really sorry, baby?” gojo asks, his voice just a growl in your ear. “or do you just like winding us up?”

“i'm really sorry,” you moan again, and geto’s hands digging into your hips harder as he guides you to grind slowly against his lap. gojo chuckles again, enjoying the way you’re falling to pieces on top of geto. “are you sure? you sound so needy, princess. i don’t think you’re really sorry.”

geto can feel your body starting to move in slow motions on his lap. the hands on your hips move to press you down, as his hips start to rise to meet your movements. “she’s so needy,” he says in a low voice, to which gojo hums in agreement.

you shake your head and throw your head back in the slightest when you feel your bare pussy grinding on geto's clothed bulge, “s-sorry, but feel so good,” you mutter between your moan.

gojo and geto look at each other at your strangled words. they’ve reduced you to a mess of moans and broken sentences, and it’s all a result of their hands and mouths on your body.

they look back at you, taking in the way your head is flung back, exposing your chest and neck to them. both of them are staring at you like you’re their prey. and their prey right now is at their mercy. the back of your head rests against gojo's shoulder as you grind slowly against geto.

gojo lets you rest your head back on his shoulder so he’s now free to watch the show. he feels your soft hair against his bare chest, and the view he’s getting over your shoulder is driving him crazy.

geto starts to make a noise that seems like it’s a mixture between a sigh and a growl as he feels you grind against him once more. his hands hold your hips even tighter, encouraging you to keep up the pace. “that’s it, baby. keep doing that,” he murmurs.

gojo watches as your body moves gracefully against geto. he looks down at your body, admiring the way your back is arched, the curve of your spine leading down to your hips, which are being gripped so tightly by geto’s large hands.

he bites back a soft groan at the sight of you looking so perfect on another man’s lap. “you’re being so good for us right now, you know that?”

gojo takes off his white shirt before sitting on geto's lap behind you until your back touches his chest, skin to skin as your body keeps grinding on geto. gojo lets his body touch yours, your back resting against his chest. he can feel the heat radiating from your body as you writhe on top of geto. he leans down to kiss and nuzzle into your shoulder as you continue your movements.

geto’s breath comes out in quick gasps as you keep grinding against him. he holds your hips so tight there’ll likely be marks left behind. “sweetheart,” he grunts, struggling to form words between the heat and pleasure, “you’re killing me.”

“oh god..” you whimper.

your hand moves to the back of gojo's neck, holding him as a support. gojo chuckles softly against your skin at your whimper. “feels good huh, princess?” he murmurs into your ear. feeling your hand move to the back of his neck, he lets you hold him for support. he nips at your earlobe and continues to plant kisses down your neck and shoulder.

geto’s fingers dig into your hips again as you keep grinding against him. his breath comes out in short, hard pants, the sound right in your ear. “keep going, baby,” he urges.

the room is full of nothing but heavy breaths and the soft sounds of skin against skin. gojo has started to move his lips from your shoulder to the back of your neck and down to your shoulder blades. his hips are doing the same grinding motion as yours, his body moving in perfect unison with you.

geto looks up at both of you, watching as you both move on his lap. his lips part with a gasp as one of his hands moves from your hip to the back of your head, pulling you down to his neck.

a shiver goes through your body from the way geto manhandles you to pull you down closer. “there you go, sweetheart,” he grunts as he noses your hair and then rests his chin on your shoulder. “god, you look so good right now.”

gojo lets out a hum of agreement, his lips still on your skin. his large hands travel from your shoulders down to your hips, resting right over geto’s hands. geto leans closer until his head is above your shoulder to kiss gojo— still, the three of you keep grinding at each other. the kiss between gojo and geto is messy and frenzied, and so right above you since you’ve been pulled down against geto’s body. gojo moans in response to the kiss as he deepens it, his tongue swiping against geto’s lips.

geto grips onto your hips even tighter, his fingers digging into your soft skin. he lets out groans as he kisses gojo, the sound muffled by gojo’s mouth.

the three of you are starting to move against each other in more frantic motions. there’s an increasing desperation in geto’s grip on your hips and the way gojo and geto are now kissing, more tongue and teeth than pure lips.

it’s hot and heavy, and the temperature of the room is rising with each passing second. gojo finally breaks away from the kiss, his breath harsh and strained. “fuck,” he mutters, his hands holding your hips as well as geto’s.

gojo’s head drops down to your shoulder, nuzzling his nose into your collarbone. it’s all getting too much. the sounds of heavy breaths and moans, skin pressing up against the skin, the friction all combining to heighten the pleasure, the heat, the pressure.

geto’s grip on you is so tight you’re pretty sure there will be marks on your skin. “sweetheart, i—” he gets cut off by one of your movements that has him groaning suddenly and loudly.

“what is it, baby?” gojo teases, his voice slightly muffled in the crook of your neck. a small chuckle rumbles in his chest as he continues planting kisses on your skin. “that wasn’t exactly an answer, sugu.” geto grunts as you continue moving on top of him, your body grinding against his. “i’m so close, sweetheart.” he mutters, his voice breaking in the middle. “m-me too baby— oh, fuck,” you nod, moaning mess on suguru's neck.

gojo lets out a pleased hum when you answer, his teeth nipping at your skin. “i knew it,” he says, sounding somehow smug and cocky, even at this moment. “you just look so perfect grinding against him; how could you not be close, princess.”

geto’s body tenses and shudders beneath you. “god, it’s not fair how perfect you are.” he groans between heavy breaths. “you’re going to make me lose it, and we just started.” you grind faster than before on his clothes cock. feeling the warm and twitching on his cock make you moan louder, “oh, god. .”

“lose what, baby?” gojo continues to taunt, his voice soft and yet full of a teasing edge to it. “your composure? your mind? your load? i’ve already lost all of those things.” geto growls and nips at your shoulder as gojo continues goading him. “what are you, twelve?” he asks, his voice a mix between annoyance and desire. as you reach your edge you arm wrap another geto's shoulder while the other back to the back of gojo's neck, gripping on his undercut.

“oh, god,” both gojo and geto murmur at your hand in gojo’s hair, gripping his undercut. geto can feel your body start to lose its rhythm, becoming less focused on movement, and more concerned with reaching your peak. “that’s it, baby,” he grunts, his fingers pressing into your hips so hard you think you’ll have marks in an hour. “keep moving like that, for me, please,” he pleads between his moan.

gojo’s hands on your hips tighten at his words. “that’s it,” he agrees, his mouth back on your skin. “o-oh, sugu,” you are crying, begging to reach your peak when your legs start shaking. “oh, baby, look at her shaking like that,” gojo comments lazily against your shoulder. “she must be right there, on the edge, just begging to go over.”

geto can’t respond, he’s simply holding onto you and letting out breathless “oh god, oh god, oh god” between his pants. he’s gripping onto your hips to push you even closer against him. “just a little more, sweetheart” he urges, “a little more for me. you’re almost there.”

gojo’s hand moves to your face, his fingers tilting your chin to the side so that your face is in his eye-line. “you’re so good, princess,” he coos, his voice a low and gentle murmur in your ear. “look at you. so perfect, falling apart just from riding his lap.”

geto’s forehead rests against the crook of your shoulder as he gasps, breathless. “please, baby, so close, just a little more.” your hip moves slower before abruptly moving faster, pulling a string of heavy grunt and moan from geto. with geto holding onto your hips so tight and gojo’s fingers pressing into your skin, you’re so close, so close and almost there. “that’s right, princess,” gojo murmurs, his voice the only soothing presence among everything that’s happening. “you’re being so good for us, so perfect”

geto’s forehead sinks further into your shoulder. “please, baby, i need it, just a little more. that’s it, that’s it.” gojo can see the look on your face, the desperation, the need, the pleasure that’s threatening to overwhelm you and tear you apart. he holds you so close, his teeth nipping at your shoulder. “almost there,” he encourages. “just a little more, beautiful girl. you can do it. i know you can.” geto’s words become more desperate, his breathing more broken and stilted. “baby, please, baby, please, i—”

gojo feels the moment you and geto reach your peak together. his hands run through your hair when he feels your body shudder and then go limp. he lets his teeth graze the side of your neck as you collapse against him. “that’s it, sweetheart,” he says, a smirk on his lips, “look at you. perfect.”

geto’s hands loosen their grip on your hips as he also takes in ragged breaths. the three of you are now sitting and panting on the bed in silence. “that was hot,” gojo finally says after a moment, and there’s a distinct hint of cockyness in his voice.

geto grunts in response as he lets the three of you fall back down on the bed from where you were still seated over top of him. “i can’t feel my legs,” he moans, his hands still gripping onto your hips.

“don’t be so whiny,” gojo scoffs, but he’s chuckling as he says it. his hands begin their gentle movements through your hair again. “we didn’t even do anything.” geto lets out another breathless scoff. “you didn’t do anything, idiot” he protests. “i did all the work.”

“you both did all the work, to be fair” gojo says, still sounding lazy. “i just sat back and enjoyed the show.”

“lazy ass,” geto chuckles. his hands are now gently massaging your hips where he knows there’ll now be marks from his fingers. “you just sat there and watched, while i had to do all the work.” gojo snorts and scoff, “yes, because a beautiful woman grinding against you is such hard work, i’m sure you suffered very much.”

geto lets out a huff of laughter. “just because i enjoyed working for it doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard work,” he retorts. “i’m the reason she was so turned on.”

“i’m the one who set her up for it in the first place,” gojo argues back, chuckling. “i’m the reason she was so eager to ride your lap.” geto lets out another scoff, a smirk on his face. “you’re forgetting who’s an idea this whole thing was in the first place,” he says— it was gojo's idea in the first place, by the way.

“oh, i’m not forgetting,” gojo responds, and there’s a hint of smugness in his voice now. “i’m just saying i’m the one who prepared her for you.” they keep bickering without realizing you silently took a pillow and hit them in the head, “shut the fuck up! i can't even catch my breath in silence, god!” you groan before resting your cheek on geto's shoulder.

gojo and geto stop their bickering immediately at the sound of your annoyed groan, and they both turn to look at you. they’re too shocked and confused to say anything at first.

gojo is the first to speak. “did you just hit us with a pillow?” he asks, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “damn right, want me to elbow your handsome face too?” you glare at him over your shoulder. gojo quickly holds his hands up in surrender. “no, please don’t!” he pleads, a mock-offended look on his face.

there’s a chuckle from geto, who’s looking down at your face as you glare up at gojo. he pats your hip gently, “you look a little pissed, darling.” his warm hand wraps over you and caresses your back lovingly. “i can't feel my legs and at the same time i think it's still shaking, does that make sense?” you ask, pouting as you still rest your cheek against his shoulder

both of them chuckle again at your pout. geto's hands rub up and down your hips, soothing the skin that his fingers were gripping so tightly. “you’re not used to us yet, sweetheart,” he says, still chuckling. “it’s going to take some time for you to get back on your feet after we’ve given you such a good time.”

you groan as you hide your face on geto's chest. “oh god, we're not even fucking yet,” you let out a heavy sigh. gojo lets out a laugh again, loving the mixture of exhaustion and annoyance in your voice. “damn, princess, look at you already begging for it,” he teases.

geto just chuckles and shakes his head, still massaging your hips. “you’re a mess right now, baby,” he smiles and pokes your cheek lightly. “shut up, i-i'm not begging,” you lightly smack gojo's bare chest before back to rest your cheek against geto's chest to look at gojo who's still sit on the black-haired man behind you.

gojo lets out a scoff of disbelief at the smack to his chest. “you’re not begging? because you sound awfully needy to me,” he teases, clearly knowing what annoys you and relishing in it. geto rolls his eyes at gojo, giving his arm a smack. “stop being a dick to her,” he says with a chuckle.

gojo lets out another laugh, enjoying that he’s getting a reaction from you. “i’m not being a dick, i’m just pointing out the truth!” he says, still sounding cocky and amused. geto grumbles under his breath and pats your hips again. “ignore him, baby,” he says. “he’s just being a douchebag because you’re paying attention to me.” gojo glares at geto after hearing the words rolling out from his mouth. you giggle and stick your tongue to gojo over your shoulder.

gojo lets out a snort of laughter when you give him the tongue. “cute,” he says, his smile wide. “you’re such a child sometimes, you know that?” geto just shakes his head, hiding a smile behind your head as he kisses it. “shut up,” you giggle again as gojo leans closer until his lips touch yours and kiss you.

gojo’s lips are gentle when they touch yours, a contrast to the cocky attitude he was just showing. he takes advantage of how you’re still leaning against geto's chest on his lap on the bed, and reaches over to hold the side of your face while he kisses you, keeping you steady. geto watches the two of you, one hand still rubbing your hips while the other holds your waist, steadying your position on top of him.

gojo deepens the kiss as his tongue slides over your bottom lip and swipes at it, pushing into your mouth and against your tongue. he’s still leaning over your back from behind, one hand keeping the side of your face steady as his other one moves to rest on your thigh.

geto can feel the way your legs are shifting involuntarily from the way gojo moves, and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you in place. gojo slowly deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping through your parted lips to play with yours lazily. “you’re so cute,” he mutters against your mouth between kisses, his voice barely above a whisper.

geto watches as you and gojo continue to kiss above him, his hands still resting on you. he just hums quietly, enjoying the sight. gojo continues to kiss you, his tongue dancing with yours at a slow pace. there’s no urgency to the way he kisses you, he seems content to lazily move his lips against yours and hold your face in his hand.

geto is watching the two of you intently, his hands still resting on your body as he takes in the sight of you both. he lets out a soft hum, but doesn’t say anything, just watching as gojo’s tongue moves against yours. his kiss moves down along your jaw and then down your neck, his lips trailing over your skin until he reaches the back of your shoulder. as his mouth touches the sensitive skin behind your ear, he presses another gentle kiss there before muttering in your ear.

“do you think you can take another round, baby?” his voice is a mix of teasing and affection.

as gojo whispers the question into your ear, you can feel geto’s arms gently loosen their grip on your hips. he can probably sense that the three of you are starting to transition to the second round.

his hands move so that they are now resting on the outside of your thighs. his palms are flat against your skin, but still holding you in place on his lap. he’s looking up at you, waiting for your response.

“p-please...” you beg, your hand moving slowly to gripping on gojo's hands, giving him another begging through physical. at your pitiful, “please”, both gojo and geto are unable to hold back a reaction. they can both tell you’re getting needy already.

when gojo hears you begging, he hums against your shoulder and bites down gently on the skin there, leaving a light mark. geto’s hands move gently up and down your thighs as he responds to your plea. “please what, baby?” he asks, his voice a mixture of tease and desire. “please, fuck me..” your words come out breathy.

when you gasp out the plea, there’s another soft chuckle from gojo, and he sucked another mark into the skin of your shoulder. meanwhile, geto lets out a low exhale of air at the explicit request. “god, i love your mouth when you say things like that,” he says, and the words are more of a growl than anything. his hands tighten their grip on your thighs.

gojo straightens so that his mouth is no longer at the back of your shoulder. he’s looking down at you now, a smirk on his face. “that’s not very polite, princess,” he teases. “you need to learn how to ask nicely”

meanwhile, geto’s hands rub up and down your thighs. he’s also watching your face, amused at the way you’re already begging. “but i said please..” you let out a soft whining. gojo chuckles at that response. “i know you said please, but you can do better than that,” he says, his hand still on your face. geto hums, and you can feel his fingers digging into your skin. “come on, baby, tell us what you want. say it like a good girl,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

you wrapped your finger around his wrist that is still on your face, “please baby, i wanna feel your dick inside me so bad . .” at the sound of your words, and the pleading tone in your voice, both gojo and geto react. gojo’s hand tightens slightly against your cheek. geto lets out a low, satisfied groan at your request. “you’re such a good girl for us,” he says, biting your shoulder gently

gojo lets out another low chuckle as you wrap your fingers around his wrist. “you’ve got a mouth on you, you know that?” he says teasingly, his smile still on his lips. he’s amused by the way you’re asking.

meanwhile, geto lets out another low exhale against your skin. “fuck, i love how desperate you’re sounding right now,” he mutters, his hands moving to grip your thighs again. gojo pulls your face slightly closer so that he’s looking you right in the eye. “you want it that badly, huh?” he asks, his voice a mix of amusement and a hint of condescension.

geto is still watching your face intently, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. he can feel the way your skin is quivering against his touch. “you’re such a needy little thing right now, aren’t you?” he mutters against your shoulder before leaving another mark on the skin. you nodded, your eyes practically begging as you lost between gojo's azure eyes. “please. . ”

gojo lets out another chuckle when he sees the pleading look in your eyes. “you’re so cute when you look at me like that,” he says. geto still has his eyes on your face, watching the expressions you’re making in your desperation. “look at you, being all needy and beautiful,” he says, the words a mixture of compliment and amused taunt. his grip on your thighs tightens even more.

gojo leans in a bit closer, the smirk still on his face. “you want it that badly, hm?” he asks again, his voice still teasing. geto can feel the way your skin is quivering and shaking in his grip, your body desperately craving more touch and more attention. “god, watching you like this is so hot,” he mutters, leaving another mark on the skin of your shoulder.

gojo’s hand moves from your face to your shoulder, holding you lightly while his lips press against your skin. his other hand is working to pull off his shorts.

when he kicks off his shorts, geto is now holding you by the waist with one hand, his other hand still gripping your thighs. he lets out another low, satisfied hum when he sees gojo now completely naked. “god, you’re so hot,” he mutters against the skin of your neck.

gojo lets out a light chuckle when he hears geto’s mutter. “i take it you’re liking the view,” he comments, his voice still amused. geto just nods, his lips still on your neck. “you look even better naked,” he says, his voice a low, hungry-sounding growl. he’s still holding you and biting your skin, his hand on your thigh gripping you tightly.

in the meantime, gojo has now moved his hands to your waist, replacing geto’s hands on your hips. his hands are firm and steady on your skin, holding you steadily in place on his lap.

“are you ready, baby?” he asks, shifting his body slightly so that you can feel him even more clearly against you. “yes, please..” you nod, your eyes glisten as you look at gojo. gojo lets out another low laugh when he hears your response. “god, you’re so gorgeous when you’re begging,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and desire.

geto is still watching the two of you intently, his breath hitches when he hears you pleading. “you’re such a good girl for us,” he mutters against your skin before leaving another mark on your neck. gojo lets out a low chuckle at the feeling of your body quivering and shaking in anticipation. “you’re shaking so much, it’s adorable,“ he says, his voice a mix of amusement and desire.

geto, who’s still lying back on the bed, lets out a low hum when he feels how hard gojo is against you. “god, you’re so eager,” he mutters, his breath still coming out in low, satisfied pants. geto shifts his position slightly, adjusting his hold on you. his hand slips down from your hip to your ass, groping at your plump flesh before giving it a light squeeze. the other hand reaches up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. “ready?” he echoes, his tone low and filled with anticipation.

you nodded, hands gripping tightly on geto's shoulder as you squirm on his lap. “oh— fuck!” a long groan pushing past your lips the moment gojo's cock slowly entering your pussy from behind, fucking you while you on sit top of geto's lap.

geto's eyes darken with lust as he watches gojo enter you from behind. he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “that's it, baby. take his cock like a good girl.” his hand in your hair tightens, tilting your head to the side to expose your neck further. suguru's tongue darts out, licking a stripe up your throat before his teeth graze over your pulse point.

“fuck, you're so sexy like this,” he groans, his own arousal evident in the growing bulge pressing against your pussy. geto starts to rock his hips in time with gojo's thrusts, grinding his clothed cock against your pussy once again.

geto continues to grind his hardening cock against your slick folds, the friction making him hiss through clenched teeth. his free hand slides down to cup your mound, fingers spreading your lips apart to gain better access. with each thrust from behind, geto rubs his thumb over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves. “f-fuck—” you stutter from the pleasure of geto's hand and gojo's dick.

“so wet,” he murmurs, his voice laced with pride and desire. “can't wait to taste you later,” geto leans in to capture your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, swallowing your moans as gojo picks up the pace, driving into you harder and faster.

“o-oh, god, 'toru. . ” you moan against geto's lips.

geto breaks away from the kiss only to trail kisses down your jawline and neck, leaving a burning path wherever his lips touch. his grip on your hair tightens even more, pulling your head back to expose your throat fully. geto's tongue traces over your collarbone before descending lower, towards the valley between your breasts.

“so good f’ me, s-so fucking good,” gojo whimpering, continues to pound into you relentlessly from behind. geto takes advantage of every movement to tease and torment your sensitive nipples. his thumb brushes over your clit again and again, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“oh fuck— toru. . .” tears are swelling up to the corner of your eyes as geto's grips your hair until you look up and meet with gojo's eyes. gojo's nails rooted on your skin as he keep thrust his cock inside your pussy.

geto's gaze flickers up to meet yours, his dark eyes blazing with raw need. he gives your hair a sharp tug, forcing you to arch your back and push your chest closer to his teasing mouth. “look at me, baby,” he commands softly but firmly, wanting nothing more than to see the pleasure etched onto your features.

as gojo's relentless pounding sends waves of ecstasy crashing through your body, suguru's hands become even more insistent, kneading and squeezing at your breasts mercilessly. he bites down gently on your nipple, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he feels how hard you've gotten for them both.

geto's heart pounds wildly against your cheek as he watches gojo take control, pushing you down onto his lap. he grips your hips tighter, guiding your movements to match gojo's rhythm perfectly. each thrust drives deeper, stretching you deliciously around his girthy length. “so fucking tight,” gojo groans, leaning forward to bite down on the curve of your shoulder. his hands roam over your back, tracing along your spine before sliding up to grasp at your hair. with deft fingers,

as gojo's teeth sink into your shoulder, a sharp cry escapes from your lips. geto's hands leave your breasts to slide down your sides, trailing fire across your skin. when he reaches your thighs, he grips them firmly, spreading them wider to give gojo better access. his thumbs press against your inner thighs, rubbing circles into your tender flesh as he watches gojo's cock disappear and reappear from within you. “fuck baby, you look so perfect taking him like that,” geto murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

geto's gaze fixates on where their bodies join, watching intently as gojo pistons in and out of you. a low growl rumbles in his throat as he observes the way your curves ripple with each powerful thrust. his hands glide back up to your breasts, kneading them roughly once again. geto leans in close, whispering dirty words into your ear about what they plan to do with you once they're done with this.

“ah— i-i'm close,” you whimper, eyes glisten with tears.

geto's eyes flash with excitement at your confession, his hands becoming even more demanding on your body. “come for us then, baby,” he urges, his voice dripping with seduction. “let us feel you fall apart,” gojo added. as if sensing your impending climax, gojo redoubles his efforts, slamming into you with renewed vigor. geto mirrors his actions, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers, coaxing out every last drop of pleasure from your trembling form.

geto can hardly contain himself as he watches you teeter on the edge of release. his fingers dig into your flesh, urging you closer to that blissful precipice. “do it,” he pleads, his voice ragged with desire. “give it all to us.” as if responding to his plea, gojo slams into you one final time, triggering your orgasm. your walls clench around him desperately, milking his throbbing member for everything it's worth.

geto watches, entranced, as your body convulses in pleasure beneath them. he can't help but be moved by the sight of you unraveling under their combined ministrations. “that's it,” he encourages, feeling a surge of pride swell within him. “show us how much you love being used like this.” as your climax begins to wane, geto leans in to claim another searing kiss, tasting the saltiness of your sweat on your lips.

gojo watches as you convulse beneath them, his hands still tight on your hips as he looks down at you. the sound of you unraveling is only adding to his own desire, and he lets out a low laugh of satisfaction. “god damn, you’re incredible,” he mutters, his voice rough.

geto, meanwhile, pulls you into another searing kiss, claiming your lips again. his tongue delves into your mouth, tasting the saltiness of your sweat. as geto’s tongue dominates your mouth, gojo watches the two of you intently, his hands still on your hips, holding you in place. his eyes move back and forth between you and geto, watching closely to catalogue every reaction and expression.

“god, you two look good together” he mutters, his voice rough. his grip tightens on your hips as he watches the two of you make out. gojo is still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath after pulling out of you. he’s watching as you fall apart on geto’s arm, your eyes closed as you try to catch your own breath.

“you look so beautiful,” he mutters, his voice is still rough. his hand reaches out and brushes the hair off your face. meanwhile, geto is still sitting against the headboard, his arm still around you as you try to catch your breath. he’s watching you intently as you recover, and his hand gently rubs your back in soothing circles. “you did so good, baby” he mutters, his voice soft, “you’re so beautiful.”

gojo gets up from geto’s lap, and gently pulls you to lay you down on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. he moves so that he’s now lying next to you on the bed, his hand still resting lightly on your hip.

geto watches as you lie down on the bed and moves over so that he’s now lying next to you, too. he rests his hand on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles in your skin. as the three of you lay there together, there’s a moment of comfortable silence, with the only sound being the evenness of your breaths. gojo and geto are both still touching you, their hands gently rubbing your skin wherever they can reach.

“how are you feeling, baby?” gojo asks after a few moments, his voice soft and gentle.

you give him a weak smile, “perfect.”

“perfect,” gojo repeats, his voice satisfied as he echoes your word. he’s still resting next to you, his hand still gently making patterns on your skin. geto, who’s lying on your other side, also hums his agreement. “you look perfect,” he mutters, his fingers still rubbing your stomach. “you did so well,” he draw another mutter on your skin to kiss your forehead.

there’s another moment of comfortable silence, with the three of you just laying there together and enjoying the afterglow. gojo’s hand continues to gently rub your skin, and geto's hand is still moving in slow circles on your stomach. “can i ask you something, princess?” gojo says suddenly, his voice still soft and gentle.

you open your eyes and turn your head to look at gojo, “what is it?” you ask him, voice soft and dripping with tiredness.

gojo looks down at you as you turn your head to look at him, his eyes lingering on your face. he can see the exhaustion in your eyes and in your voice, which seems to be dripping with tiredness.

“i just wanted to ask…” he pauses for a moment, his hand still rubbing slow circles on your skin. “you enjoyed that, right?” he asks, his voice gentle and concerned. you look at him like he's the most stupid person in the world that makes you confused, “yeah?” you ask.

gojo notices the look on your face and laughs at your question. “okay, well, don’t give me that look,” he says jokingly. geto, who’s lying on your other side, also laughs, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on your stomach. “don't insult him, he’s just checking in, princess,” he says, his voice amused.

gojo chuckles again before continuing. “i know you enjoyed it, i just want to make sure” he says, his voice serious again. he pauses for another moment, still looking at you intently. “i just want to make sure you’re comfortable and happy,” he says, his voice earnest. gojo is still watching your face, waiting for your answer. “you’d tell us if you didn’t, right?” he asks, his voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“do you want me to tell you if i didn't?”

“yes.” both gojo and geto answer at the same time. geto glances over at gojo before turning his attention back to you, his hand still rubbing your stomach. “we want to know if you had a good time,” he says, his voice serious.

gojo nods in agreement. “yeah, if you didn’t enjoy something, we want you to tell us,” he says. “your comfort and happiness are important to us, princess,” he adds. you nod, taking their hand to plant a kiss on the back of their hand, “then i will.”

gojo and geto both watch as you take their hands and plant a kiss on the backs. they both smile at the gesture, clearly touched by the small act of affection.

“good,” gojo says, his voice satisfied. “that’s all we want, you to be honest and comfortable,” he adds, his hand gently squeezing yours. geto hums in agreement, his hand rubbing the back of yours. “we value your feelings more than anything, princess,” he mutters, his voice soft and sincere.

there’s a moment of comfortable silence again, as the three of you just lay there together, your hands still intertwined. gojo and geto are both watching you closely, their eyes taking in your every expression.

“you look tired,” gojo finally says, breaking the silence. he’s still holding your hand, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin. you nod, “just a little,” you softly speak before pushing your body away from the bed to sit up. “i'm going to get a drink first,” you tell them. you took gojo's white shirt that he used before and put it on you.

gojo watches as you push yourself up from the bed and put on his shirt. his eyes trail over your body, admiring the way the fabric of his shirt hangs on your figure. he’s about to speak when geto reaches out and grabs your arm, keeping you in place.

“you don’t have to get up, i’ll get you a drink,” he says, his voice gentle and affectionate. “thank you,” you said politely as you smiled at him. “of course,” geto says, smiling back at you. he pats you gently on the head before getting up from the bed.

gojo watches as geto walks out of the bedroom, his eyes lingering on his naked back as he leaves the room. “damn, he’s hot,” he mutters, his voice low enough that only you can hear it. you look at him with your eyebrows knit together softly before rolling your eyes, “god, you're such a horn dog.”

gojo lets out a low laugh when he hears your comment. “hey, i can’t help it if i appreciate a nice body,” he says, his voice still low. he looks over at you, a smirk on his face. “you can’t deny he looks good,” he adds, his eyes trailing over your figure in his shirt.

gojo chuckles and pulls you towards him again, your bodies pressing against each other. “i mean, yeah he's hot but— ah fuck it, let's objectifying him,” you giggle as you wrap your arm around gojo's waist. when he hears you say you’d like to objectify him, his smirk widens. “yeah, let’s do it,” he says, his voice low.

he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you even closer, his hand gently rubbing small circles on your lower back. “his ass is pretty great,” he mutters, his eyes raking over your figure in his shirt.

you nodded, “his dick too.”

gojo laughs out loud at your comment, clearly having not expected it. “god damn, baby,” he mutters, his voice full of humor. “yeah, it’s very good,” he agrees, his eyes still roaming over your body in his shirt. “how’d you fit it all in your mouth?” he teases, using his free hand to gently brush your hair behind your ear. “have no idea,” you shake your head as you laugh.

gojo laughs again when he hears your reply, clearly enjoying the conversation. he moves his head so that it’s right next to your ear, and his voice is a low murmur when he speaks again. “you look so good in my shirt,” he mutters, his breath hot against your skin. “thank you,” you smile at him as you look up. your fingers run across his arm.

gojo smiles back at you, his hand still rubbing small circles on your lower back. he takes a moment to admire your expression, his eyes drinking in how your face looks when you’re smiling up at him.

“i like it when you wear my clothes,” he admits, his voice low, “it reminds me that you’re mine.” gojo looks deep into your eyes for a moment, taking in your expression and the soft smile on your lips. he then presses his lips against your forehead in a gentle kiss, his lips lingering against your skin.

“you’re adorable, you know that?” he mutters, still holding you close to him. just then, geto walks back into the room, holding a glass of water in his hand. When he sees you and gojo cuddled together on the bed, he raises an eyebrow. “did i miss something?” he asks jokingly, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“we're objectifying you,” you said, giggling.

geto lets out a chuckle when he hears you say you’re objectifying him. “oh, is that so?” he asks, his voice amused. he takes a few steps closer to the bed, a small smile on his face. “anything interesting being said?” he asks, looking over at gojo who’s still holding you against him.

geto walk over to the other side of the bed and hand you the water as he takes a seat beside you. gojo looks over at geto, a smirk on his face. “oh, just talking about how good you look,” he says casually, his hand still rubbing small circles on your lower back.

geto lets out a low laugh when he hears gojo’s comment, clearly somewhat amused by it. he watches as you take the glass of water from his hand, and takes a moment to admire your pretty face before pinching your cheek. “just my looks?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “not my skills?” he asks, his hand coming to rest on your thigh.

gojo smirks again when he hears his comment, his hand still idly rubbing small circles on your lower back. “oh, your skills are definitely being appreciated too,” he says. he looks over at geto, his eyes trailing over his body. “a very important part of you,” he adds, his voice low.

they both stop talking and watch as you take sips from the water, both of them clearly enjoying the sight. gojo's hand is still rubbing your lower back, his eyes never leaving you as you drink. meanwhile, geto's hand is still resting on your thigh; his eyes are looking at the way your throat moves as you swallow.

“what?” you look at them as you hesitate to pull the glass away from your face. gojo and geto both look at you when you look at them, both of them still admiring your pretty face. “just enjoying the view,” gojo says simply, his hand still rubbing circles on your back. “you look very pretty while drinking,” geto adds, his hand still resting on your thigh.

after finishing, you hand the half-empty glass to gojo and cast a questioning glance at geto. “what’s so pretty about drinking?” you ask, slightly puzzled. gojo takes the water glass from you and sets it down on the bedside table. both gojo and geto are still looking at you, their expressions amused by your question.

“just the way your neck moves when you swallow,” geto says simply.

gojo nods in agreement. “yeah, it’s pretty hot,” he adds, his eyes trailing over the smooth line of your throat. you just rolled your eyes at your two boyfriends horniness before placing a pillow behind you and pulling a blanket over your body as you lay down.

gojo and geto both chuckled at your eye roll, clearly amused by your reaction to their horniness. gojo watches as you place a pillow behind you and pull a blanket over your body, his eyes trailing over your form as you get comfortable. geto leans over and pats your head gently, a smile on his face. “comfy?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod and smile at him before turning to gojo, who is still eyeing you with a hungry gaze. “go to sleep, dickhead. it’s almost three in the morning,” you say, giving him a nasty look.

gojo laughs at your comment, amused by your words. “but i’m not tired,” he says, his eyes still roaming over your body.

“yeah, i’m not tired either,” geto agrees, his hand still patting your head gently. “but, i am,” you mumble, pulling the blanket until it reaches your chin.

as soon as you mumble that you’re tired, both gojo and geto’s expressions soften. they both look at you for a moment, taking in your sleepy face and the way the blanket is pulled up to your chin. “okay princess,” gojo says, his voice gentle. “we’ll go to sleep,” he assures you, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on your lower back.

they both eventually join you, lying on their sides as you shift to face them as well. gojo pulls you closer, so your back is against his chest, while the two of you face geto. as soon as all three of you are lying down on the bed, gojo pulls you closer to him, your back pressed against his chest. he wraps his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your stomach.

geto watches as you and gojo get comfortable, a small smile on his face. he shifts so that he’s a little closer to you, his eyes roaming over your pretty face. despite all three of you being tired, you don’t close your eyes right away. instead, gojo and geto both continue to talk softly, their voices quiet and drowsy.

gojo’s hand is still resting on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin. meanwhile, geto’s eyes are still fixed on your face, a small smile on his lips as he watches you listen.

gojo and geto continue talking quietly, their voices low and drowsy as they converse. meanwhile, you pull your phone out from under the pillow and start using it. gojo glances down and sees that you’re using your phone, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “what are you doing, princess?” he asks, his voice soft.

“just scrolling,” you mumble, the light from your phone illuminating your face. they don’t say anything and continue their quiet conversation. both gojo and geto glance down at your phone, noticing how the light from it illuminates your face, making you look even prettier under the dim lighting of the room. “what are you scrolling through?” gojo asks, his voice sounding just a hint too interested.

“just some tiktok videos, baby,” you reply softly. they nod and allow you to continue, not really focusing on your phone as they keep chatting. gojo and geto both nod as you tell them that you’re just scrolling through some tiktok videos, their focus more on their conversation rather than what you’re doing on your phone.

“that’s cool,” gojo says, his voice absent-minded as his hand keeps rubbing small circles on your stomach.

after a few minutes, gojo notices that the sound from your phone keeps repeating as if a certain video is on a loop. he glances down at you and sees that your eyes are closed, your breathing slower and more steady.

when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep with your phone still on, a small smile forms on his face. he reaches out and gently takes your phone out of your grasp, setting it down on the bedside table. geto also notices that you’ve fallen asleep and looks down at you with a soft smile on his face.

he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle so as not to wake you up. “she’s asleep,” he murmurs to gojo, his voice barely above a whisper.

gojo nods in agreement, his eyes still fixed on your face. “yeah, she’s out cold,” he says, his voice just as quiet as geto’s. he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand gently stroking your stomach.

“we should go to sleep, too,” gojo whispers.

geto nods in agreement, his eyes still fixed on you sleeping. “yeah, we should,” he says, his voice soft. he shifts closer to you so that he’s a little nearer, his body warm and comfortable against yours.

geto gently presses a kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “sleep well, my love,” his voice tender and soft as he brushes his lips against your skin. he then turns to gojo, leaning in to give him a warm kiss as well. with a loving smile, he says, “good night, baby,” his tone is full of affection and care.

gojo smiles when he hears geto’s soft words, enjoying the gentle tone of his voice. “good night,” he murmurs, his voice low.

he reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. then he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, your back pressed against his chest.

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