#me w the dress I bought yesterday

[gorespawn]

also while we're here i would like to share the two iterations of tumblr user gorespawn that have existed since i abandoned this blog back in like early 2021. Who wants me

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin 

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you. 

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it? 

Fuck me. This shit is highschool. 

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it. 

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now? 

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos. 

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy. 

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize. 

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy. 

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?” 

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning? 

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Tch. Omegas.” 

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?” 

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?” 

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?” 

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?” 

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not. 

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.” 

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually. 

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad. 

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck? 

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.” 

“Okay, cool. When's your next–” 

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.” 

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.” 

“M'not. Fuck you.” 

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?” 

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm. 

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. 

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today. 

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now. 

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!” 

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him. 

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?” 

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly. 

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention. 

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents. 

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy. 

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked. 

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?” 

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha. 

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?” 

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna. 

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.” 

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little. 

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons. 

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?” 

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.” 

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.” 

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise. 

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.” 

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit. 

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.” 

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore. 

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–” 

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.” 

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor. 

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features. 

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose. 

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?” 

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up. 

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.” 

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.” 

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.” 

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.” 

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–” 

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted. 

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes. 

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–” 

“I'll take you home.” 

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.” 

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature. 

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.” 

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh. 

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe. 

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why. 

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–” 

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?” 

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first. 

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control. 

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash. 

“Fucking–wait, just–” 

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door. 

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone. 

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him. 

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges. 

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?” 

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast. 

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.” 

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled. 

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.” 

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat. 

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.” 

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?” 

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.” 

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?” 

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.” 

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue. 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.” 

“Wow.” 

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door. 

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face. 

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad. 

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.” 

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away. 

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard. 

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.” 

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?” 

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?” 

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you. 

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–” 

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did). 

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really. 

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail. 

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else. 

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt). 

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry. 

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it. 

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.” 

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches. 

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath. 

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing. 

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink. 

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.” 

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire. 

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.” 

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.” 

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time. 

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though. 

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked. 

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?” 

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.” 

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?” 

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.” 

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.” 

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes. 

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. 

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it. 

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?” 

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly. 

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.” 

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go. 

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.” 

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that. 

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched. 

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?” 

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in. 

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more. 

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.” 

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide. 

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.” 

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest. 

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it. 

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun. 

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once. 

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey. 

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed. 

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.” 

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you. 

But maybe, maybe, you had a point. 

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up. 

“Ow. Gross.” 

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.” 

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst. 

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

[blossomingmoonlight]

⭑ Separate Worlds, Chapter Three ⭑

Main masterlist

Pairing: Michael Gavey x Popular!rich!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, mentions of alcohol, michael being a horny virgin, michael being desparate, reader being thirsty, mastrubation.

Summary: Living two completely separate lives you and Michael had never really crossed paths and you’ve never really looked at him before. But when your worlds collide, affections arise.

Word count: 1.2k

Saturday, 15th October 2006

You awoke with an awful headache, you didn’t think you had enough to drink to even get hungover but it had been a while since you last had any alcohol. Your mind flashed back to last night, the argument, running in your heels after Michael, breaking into the library, the dusty attic with the starry night sky, and- him of course. His breathtaking eyes, big nose, sharp jaw and chiselled chin. Your mind started to wander, his veiny arms and most importantly his veiny hands, thick fingers, broad shoulders and just his hair that looked so graspable- Christ. Get a grip. 

You got out of bed as the stinging headache and a wave of nausea hit you. A good shower would fix you, maybe today would be a self care day, just to energise for the week. But even in the shower your mind started to wander, and they got even worse- all you could think about was what his cock looked like, how his big hands would look grabbing your hips as you rode him. And with that image you finished. When you had gotten ready for the day, well at least dressed. You decided to get some food and coffee. 

Once in the main courtyard you ran into Farleigh, Maisie and Eloise. “Hey, you okay? You stormed out on your own birthday last night.” Maisie asked, a bit concerned. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just had too much to drink and it had gotten to my head. But I’m fine now. You guys want to grab some coffee with me?” They stopped questioning you at that and you all hit the nearest Starbucks. 

Sunday, October 16th 2006

You made your way to the library, heart pounding in your chest. All day yesterday you thought about him, after the shower you had to relieve yourself once more when you climbed into bed that night. You didn’t even need to study, but you hoped so badly he would be there. You entered the library with a beaming smile on your face, expecting to see him. He wasn’t there? What?

A sigh left your lips and you turned on your heel. No reason for coming here then. You decided to head to your friend's dorm instead. 

Monday, October 17th 2006

Finally! You felt like Monday couldn’t come fast enough, at last you were able to see him again. Even though it had only been two days since your last encounter, it felt like a week. You knew the second you saw him in class you would bring him the box of crunchies with your phone number and email taped onto it as well as a funny maths pun t-shirt you bought while getting coffee on Saturday. You used your calculator Saturday night and the bastard was right. So of course you had to reward him.

You didn’t even meet up with Eloise like usual before maths, instead you put on your cutest outfit, showered before and wore your strongest and nicest perfume. Surely this would grab his attention. But when you got there a message dinged on your phone. 

Eloise Sinclair: please don't kill me im fucking sick and i cant get out of bed :(((  8:56

(You): No worries, just rest ok? Want me to bring you something after maths?  8:57

Eloise Sinclair: no maisie just got here with supplies. thanks though xxx  8:57

(You): Ok I’ll visit later xx  8:57

Maybe it was the universe sending you signs because when you stepped in the lecture hall you spotted Michael, with empty seats next to him. You almost jogged down the stairs with a huge grin and dropped the box with crunchies, the t-shirt and the note on his tiny desk. He looked at you in surprise as you sat at the desk right next to him. Was he dreaming? “Morning, you were right. You are a genius. So here are the crunchies as promised and also a funny t-shirt I saw when I was out, made me think of you.” You smiled as you nudged the box towards him. 

Michael however was still stunned. Did his dream girl who was way out of his league dump her friends to sit next to him? Did she buy him his favourite treat? Did she think of him while she was out? And most important of all…she called him a genius. Fuck. He was actually hard right now, how pathetic. How does a guy get hard from just some gifts and a compliment? How did- “Helloooo? Earth to Michael?” You snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“I’m sorry, it’s pretty early- uhm- thank you I really appreciate it.” He smiled, and for the first time he smiled properly, showing off his cute teeth. And holy shit did that make you fall harder.  Luckily for him, you hadn’t noticed his boner, he swiftly moved the sweater that was hanging from his shoulders to his lap. You wanted to talk to him more and tell him you left your info in the box too but the professor was starting and somehow, sitting next to Michael Gavey made it so much less boring.

The lecture seemed to fly by and the end was near. After the professor made you do some practice assignments she spoke up. “Before next monday I have a little project that I want you to complete, this project will require you to partner up with someone. The project information itself will be handed out before you leave, you can now choose your partner.” The class immediately started to mingle and you turned to Michael. 

“So since you’re next to me anyway, want to partner up?” He looked unsure and turned more towards you. “Uhm, usually I prefer to work alone.” Oh. But when your face dropped he continued. “But I don’t think we really have a choice and I would rather work with you than anyone else here.” He rambled. That made you smile again, the professor handed out the information you needed and you agreed to meet up the following morning since you both had a free period at the same time. 

The second Michael got back to his dorm room he threw the sweater he held discreetly in front of him on his desk chair and quickly moved on his bed. His cock was straining in his pants and he never had needed relief this badly. Your perfume was still lingering in his nose, the way your tits were almost out with that top you wore, the skirt that showed off your silky smooth thighs. It was all too much. He quickly grabbed his laptop that was still on his bed and went to his saved porn, all girls that looked like you with guys that looked like him.

The video started to play and he opened his pants so he could finally relieve his aching cock. He almost came in record time as he released all over his veiny hand, cumming with a loud groan he had to muffle.

Tag list (also want to be tagged in chapters? message me): @sepherinaspoppies

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-eight: uniform kink

>>> all the hating bitches to the back i literally do not want to hear it!!! ttyl xoxo this is for more of my depraved self-ship needs

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: established relationship, clothed sex, reader and gojo have three kids, breeding/pregnancy kink, uniform kink obviously i swear they tie in bear w me, spankings, doggy >>> wc: 3.6k >>> event masterlist:

it started out innocently enough. well, that’s a lie. it was not innocent, ever—though it wasn’t weird!! you guys are the same age, married for years–with children! it’s only weird when there’s massive age gaps, right? either way, he feels a daunting sense of guilt mixed with devious amounts of excitement shiver down his spine as you step around the corner. 

the two of you have been pilfering through boxes all day, trying to clear out the bonus room now that the girls were old enough to have their own rooms. they were visiting uncle megumi while their parents rearranged the house to surprise them, but it seems you’ve gotten a little side-tracked walking down memory lane. the first box was full of pictures from school, some of your earliest moments with satoru memorialized forever in the stills. it does make you a little emotional to think about how far the two of you have come, the years spent together and the things accomplished side by side. these pictures tell your story; the first few days of school where you and satoru—then spitefully called gojo-kun—stood at opposite ends of the frame to be as separated as possible. satoru gives ieiri bunny ears and you’re hugging suguru’s arm–but the two of you are looking at each other. it’s clear to you now that you were trying to make each other jealous, but at the time you would have sworn to the heavens above that you couldn’t stand the man. 

now satoru always had a soft spot for you, torturing you was all just fun and games to him—until you started dating a guy from the kyoto school. this, of course, was memorialized in pictures too. there teenage you stood, all dressed up for winter formal, grinning ear to ear as you pose for the camera shoko was operating. you can remember this like it was yesterday, standing in your dorm after exchanging your uniform skirt for an icy blue cocktail dress—you were more nervous for a certain someone to see you than you were to meet up with your date. you knew what you were doing when you picked the dress out, and its effect was clearly captured with satoru’s bulging eyes, red face, and gaping mouth in the background. you pass that one to your husband after taking a few good chuckles at it, remembering shoko turning around her little canon camera to show you the picture and how good you felt after seeing gojo-kun’s reaction. 

he waves the picture in his hands, whistling in the same way he did as soon as that camera fell to shoko’s side. he looks at the picture with fondness, remembering it as the moment he decided to get serious about you. the warmth in his cheeks and jealousy squeezing his heart as your date came to pick you up had him reeling to come up with a way to stop you from going. 

“he gonna make you go halfsies on dinner?” he calls after you, and embarrassment stung your cheeks. your date, just as petrified of gojo as he should be, shakes his head no. 

“n–no, we’re going on full stomachs.” he replies, clutching a pathetic bouquet in his hands. gojo laughs. that bouquet was three dollars maximum, and you were a $30 arrangement at the least. and too cheap to take you on a real date? he shouldn’t be surprised, but he can’t help but press on at the horror on your face and the desperation in his gut. 

“ah, daddy didn’t give you any money? i’ll pay you enough to get yourself a real nice dinner if you leave the lady with me.” he sings, holding out a few yen notes for him. you’re mortified, sure this was another one of his stunts to embarrass you— but your date was easily bought. 

“but–”

“b-but–” gojo rolled his eyes in annoyance, slapping the money in his hand. “i recommend the sushi place on the corner.” he turns, beaming at you, slipping his arm through yours when the kyoto boy drops— without skipping a beat. “c’mon. i believe there’s a dance tonight?” he pulls his sunglasses down his nose a little bit to let you see the mischief and excitement swirling in his eyes. 

you bite the inside of your cheek. you want to punch him in the arm–so you do–and then you nod. it sure took him long enough. “you better make this worth it, gojo-kun.” 

he grins. “call me satoru and i’ll make it all worth it, pretty lady.” his voice is a low rumble in his chest instead of his usual light tone. it makes your heart skip a beat and that warmth burn on your cheeks again. 

you never call him gojo-kun again. the rest is history–a viewable version with the many grainy phone selfies of dates and onslaught of school photographs and even an old camcorder with some footage of you practicing your technique on him made it to this spare room. you’re amazed at how nostalgic it all feels, pulling out a picture of you and satoru on graduation day. he’s smiling and pressing a kiss to your cheek—making the switch to a blindfold instead of his circular specs. his hair stands due to the fabric, but you liked the new look; especially when he pulled the blindfold up to wink at you and let you see his sunshine. he’s slumped over you, arms wrapped around your chest. you’re grinning, leaning back against him with your hands tucked into his hold on you. it’s a sweet picture—but you’re focused on the next few. you’re in the same position, but he sneaks his hand to the dip of your waist, then your hip, finally ending with a picture of you blushing from the invisible hand grabbing a handful of your ass. you pass those to satoru too, watching his expression as he flips through them, admiring the youth on your faces. 

“god you made that uniform so sexy.” he snorts, eyes dancing over the way the black fabric clung to you. at the time, he wondered if you’d ordered it that tight just to taunt him, but now he knew there was no amount of clothes that could’ve hidden that bangin’ bod. he shakes his head as he remembers just how horny he had been–not that much has changed even after three kids and over fifteen years together. “had so many fantasies of you in that thing.” 

you arch a brow, “really now?” you ask, clearly intrigued. you had seen the familiar bundle of fabric folded at the bottom of the box. “what kind of fantasies?” you purr, making the hairs on the back of neck stand up, the effects you had fifteen years ago just as efficacious now. 

how honest could he even be with that answer? yes, back then—even as your equal, he envisioned punishing you as your sensei in that little skirt—oh the ways he would have defiled you in yaga’s classroom if you had let him. he’d wondered if you would lean into the slutty schoolgirl act, if you would call him sensei instead of daddy. or would you think that was too much given his current occupation. not like it was the uniform that he liked, just the way you looked in it—and the way it felt to be young and obsessed with you. his obsession has never wavered, its just had to become more subdued as you raise your children —wanting to be a good example and all, he’s nothing but a loving and proper man in front of them. buuuuut. they were with megumi for a few more hours. “what other kinda fantasies about schoolgirls are there, gorgeous?” 

“you perv! gives gojo-sensei a whole new meaning.” you tease him, watching in sheer enjoyment as his cheeks darken a few shades and he crinkles his nose at you in embarrassment. 

“only if you say it like that.” he mumbles in his defense. great, now you think he’s a sicko. he turns back to his box of collectibles, pilfering through what he actually cared to keep now—even though he hasn’t seen any of it since your oldest was born. it’s mostly to hide his shame as he continues to think about you in that little getup with that matured body of yours. he wonders if the material would stretch to accommodate your wider hips and fatter ass. he wonders if the stretchmarks you’ve developed from carrying his children would peek over the waistband of the skirt that’s sure to ride up a little due to your widened thighs. he’s so immersed in the thought of you that he doesn’t hear you slip around the corner to tug on the old outfit. 

it certainly doesn’t fit the same, but it fits. there’s not a shred of modesty to be found– the once form fitting turtleneck top now a cropped version due to the strain from your chest. you hadn’t realized just how much your body had changed beside the obvious pounds on the scale and the marks on your skin—but your mid-thigh length skirt was now a navy mini, showing the dimples of your thighs and the bottom of your ass cheeks. you were no longer the girl from those pictures, but instead a woman who bears the beautiful changes of giving three gorgeous gojo’s life. your husband has always been a massive fan of what he calls “enhancements” to his favorite areas—loving the fluffy stomach for him to rub and the hips that fill his hands. he traces your stretch marks to soothe his racing mind at night, snuggling into your heavy chest for warmth and ultimate comfort in his free time. you know he’s only fallen deeper in love with you and it makes your heart warm with appreciation now that the differences between the young you and the current have been made so clear. you almost give up on the idea altogether, but your husband’s voice calls out for you, so you step around the corner before you can doubt yourself any more. 

he was giving you the sweetest little face—holding up your youngest’s hospital baby blanket with only fondness in his eyes. that is until it registers, as his eyes follow your bulging chest struggling against the fabric, the sides of your hips spilling over the top of the skirt—barely covering anything at all. his face turns red and the blanket falls from his hands, back into the box from whence it came. oh the shame he feels as his cock processes this shock too—making him hiss at the sudden tightness in his pants, biting his lip as he looks at you. it worked on you then and you make it your bitch now, absolutely stunning him beyond words. and he’s never short on things to say. you look even better than anything his imagination drummed up for him. fuck, you are so sexy—you only get better with age. 

the way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s falling in love all over again—eyes bouncing around your frame like he can’t make up his mind to settle on one area. your face burns under his amorous stare, but you fold your hands behind your back and sway to let him admire you. it makes your whole body warm and your cunt clench around nothing the longer he sits and stares–biting his lip, clearly in no hurry to end this moment. as beautiful as he makes you feel, you just can’t help but tease him slightly. you know he’ll pay it back in kind. “do you like it, gojo-sensei?” 

“oh aijichan, can’t you tell?” he hums, eyes falling to his clear erection before they flicker back to you—overcast and darker than usual. he usually playfully calls you his lover, but the addition of the suffix lets you know how thoroughly he’s enjoying your little act. he pats his thigh, spreading his legs even wider across the luxurious office chair. you giggle a little bit, excitement flooding your veins as you walk over to meet him. how you swing your hips and flutter your lashes is not lost on him, in fact he feels the painful buildup pressing against your thigh as you sit sideways on his, looping an arm across his shoulders. “you were such a good little girl in school. i always wondered what it would be like to treat you like a bad one.” he offers, his voice a permanent purr when it comes to the naughty things he presses to your ear. 

it sends a shudder down your spine, and you can’t help but press your chest closer to him in an automatic response. he hooks his hand around your waist, feeling the dip of your waist. he doesn’t miss the reaction—and he loves that you like it. his hand squeezes the fat on your hips, helping you off his lap before standing to full height to tower above you. 

“then bend it over, little lady.” he suggests with a wiggle of his brow, pushing the office chair closer to you with his signature smugness. his eyes sparkle with an erratic excitement, gripping the back of the chair with a tight hold—leaving his impressions in the fabric. you giggle and lean over the chair as instructed. a giddiness floods your veins while he walks circles around you, humming approvingly. “i think ten should teach you your lesson, hm?” 

you wiggle your ass preemptively and nod just to be safe. “yes sir, i think that’ll fix everything.” you purr, feeling one harsh spank to your cheek. it sends a jolt of excitement pulsating to your core, and you know that the results will be evident once he moves your skirt. the arms of the chair dig into your stomach—but it just adds to the sensation as he layers a few intense slaps to your ass. 

“well?” he talks over your loud squeals and happy giggles. “aren’t you going to say thank you?” he hums, shoving your skirt up to your waist to expose the growing redness and incriminating wetness all over your bottom half. he chuckles fondly—you surely do impress. he hits you once more. 

“yes–mmf-” you moan out at the stinging sensation. it’s so much more pleasurable on your bare skin, you can’t help but arch back into him, giving him such a beautiful view of your glistening hole and handprint-branded ass. he slaps it again, enjoying the recoil. “thank you sensei, feels so good~”

he kneads the irritated flesh a little in between the spanks–he’s not heartless, after all. you’re his wife, no amount of roleplay could make him forget the love that swells in his heart for you; especially with that beautiful ass of yours. “that’s seven—can you take your last three, naughty little thing?” 

“mhm, i can take it.” you assure him, finding it wholesome and sexy that he still checks on you even if the dirty talk never skips a beat. from the way you wiggle your bruising ass for him, he knows you’re loving this. he cups his hand under your pussy just to check even though your shiny thighs tell him all he needs to know. he’s delighted when your essence coats his hand anyway, giggling with schoolgirl excitement. hey, that’s your part—

“seems the punishment’s only making you badder.” he hums in approval, hurrying his last few spanks up in order to finally have you. he makes them count though, loud and stinging worse than a wasp—though you can’t recall the last time a bee sting made you feel that good. he can’t remember the last time you two had the house to yourselves, and he planned to put that all of that alone time to good use. you scream out and shudder at the delicious agony, tossing a look over your shoulder to see the sheer pleasure on his face–tufts of hair hanging over his vivid eyes. “seems we’ll just have to move onto something that suits you, aijichan.” 

you clamp down reflexively at his statement, nodding to your undetermined punishment, if such a thing existed under your husband’s treatment. he frees his erection with a little grunt of relief, sliding it through your sloppy lips instantly. he sighs at the feeling—but you whine at the lack of relief. the fire in your gut was burning so hot—you couldn’t take any more of the waiting.

“aw, what is it, little girl?” he mockingly pouts with you. “so needy for your sensei you could cry?” he arches a brow–sheathing his impressive length into the hilt without any more wasted time. he closes his eyes at the feeling of you, just as tight and warm as the first time he had you. it’s wild to him how three kids haven't changed how amazing it is to have you wrapped around him. 

you do cry out at how perfect he fits inside—curving into every gummy spot that needs him with hardly any effort. the sound you make is like music to his ears. you haven’t been able to be this loud since ieiri took the kids to the beach for a weekend four and a half years ago—and that’s how your youngest happened. not to say you haven’t been intimate since, just more…cautious and certainly more quiet. but that does give him an idea. 

he starts to move, grabbing a decent handful of your hair to make a handle out of, pulling you up into a pretty arch. “got one more in you, princess?” he coos, leaning over your body to give you short but powerful thrusts. you can tell from his tone and your regular nickname that playtime was over—he was too consumed by the feeling of you coupled with the undying love you bring out of him to keep up the pet names, but he could succumb to the flash of memories flooding his brain. falling in love with you, making you his for the first time which was also the day he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. he can see the day you played strip uno—which was something he made up just to be cheesy. he remembers your wedding day, you looked so beautiful and were already a few weeks pregnant with your first baby together–your son. god, the memories of you swollen and whiny—

“i—are you serious?” you giggle, a little out of breath from the rigorous way he rocks into you, keeping your asscheeks separated so he didn’t have any resistance. you knew what he was asking, and you know your heart flutters at the idea of having another one despite agreeing to stop after the ones you have. “i thought three was all you could handle?”

“i changed my mind. wanna see you big again. i miss it—’nd i can handle anything.” he says in between the sound of his balls hitting your ass. you can hear the pout in his voice, “you don’t want one?” 

“didn’t say that.” you struggle to form responses, knuckles turning white as you grip the desk in front of you. “just wanted—to be sure—you’re sure!” you squeal with every bruising thwap to your cervix, eyes scrunched shut. you’re almost so gone you might just agree to anything, but the idea of one more pregnancy, one more addition to the family, one more round of being endlessly spoiled as you wait for another gorgeous baby to arrive—it doesn’t sound so bad. it sounds perfect actually, and his words only egg you on. you clench around him in spasms, nodding. “gimme–” 

he chuckles wildly in pride. he would say he loves bully-fucking you into getting his way, but he heard you on the phone with your girlfriend the other day. you were missing that feeling of a new baby as much as he was—and he’s here to please. he moves your hips back to meet his, ass bouncing at the force. your squeals slip into screams and he’s fucking you as hard as he can in order to get more of it: of the sounds, the feeling of your womb keeping him from going any further, the way your pussy flutters around him to tell him you’re so close to cumming—everything was sending him reeling. 

“cum for me first—then’ll give you everything you want, baby.” he encourages, giving you a cocky, “yeahhhh that’s my girl.” when he feels you coat around him—gasping out moans as your legs wiggle and jump. it’s not long after that that he’s gripping your hair even harder, balls drawing up close to him just to spurt his seed as deep as it will go—hoping that his sperm is still just as successful as it’s been known to be. he helps shove it deeper with a few more rolls of his hips, to which you shiver and whine due to oversensitivity.

he pats your ass affectionately, leaning over you again to kiss your cheek as you both sit in the moment and try to catch your breath. he lets your hair fall from his fingers and gently brushes it out of your face, grinning his usual giddy grin. “you’re even sexier now, you know? feel like it’s every day, but even teen satoru would—”

“allllllright thank you, honey, that’s sweet.” you chuckle, shaking your head as he pulls out. he scoops you over his shoulder and shakes his head. 

“whaaaaat–you’re a fucking milf–” he slaps your ass playfully as he sashays toward your room with you. “that i still have–mmm forty-five more minutes give or take to knock up again.” he guesstimates, tossing you on the mattress and crawling over you—determined as ever.

[realdramalove69]

A Mothers Love pt 2

(All characters are 18+)

The spa employees at Mellow Springs were busy getting ready for the day; laying out towels, dressing the massage tables, ensuring the pools and saunas were in tip top shape. They had a full schedule and even had a “very pregnant” client coming by for the first time. The receptionist assumed that meant this expectant was close to giving birth to a single baby, eager to get in a last day of relaxation before becoming a mother.

None of them were prepared for the waddling, panting, sweaty pregnant young woman that waddled through their front doors.

Casey had to hold onto her mother’s arm as they walked through the glass doors. She had managed to dress in the new yoga pants and maternity shirt Steph had bought her yesterday but even still her belly peeked out the bottom, the pants unable to make it up the baby bump and her shirt barely covering her swollen belly button. They went to the receptionist, a slim blonde woman in her 20s wearing scrubs, who was busy on the computer, not looking up until they were right in front of her.

“Welcome to Mellow Springs…oh my,” the receptionist said, glancing at the overly fecund girl in front of her.

Casey’s cheeks grew hot as she felt the eyes of the receptionist on her stretch marked belly. She tried to pull down her shirt while Steph rubbed her back reassuringly, stepping forward and checking them in. Casey, unable to stand much longer, sat in one of the waiting room chairs, her belly quickly filling her lap and her shirt riding up more.

“My apologies,” the receptionist said as she shook her head, quickly regaining her composure and pasting on a large smile. “What's the name for the appointment today?”

“Casey and Stephanie,” Steph said. “Casey is in need of some pampering today.”

Casey smiled weakly at the receptionist, rubbing her belly as the babies kicked. Her whole body ached from being so stretched and full. She couldn’t wait to get in those pools and feel weightless for a moment.

“May I ask how far along we are?” the receptionist asked, worried her nervous voice would give away her curiosity. “It’ll help the massage therapist better understand your needs.”

“8 months,” Casey groaned. “With quints. If that matters.”

“W-with…quints?”

Casey nodded. “Five babies in here.” she patted her belly. “Believe me I didn’t want that many either.”

The receptionist forced a smile as she typed on the computer. “Okay, well that is certainly not common but we’ve had many pregnant women come through here before. It looks like you have the full spa package today so we’ll start you off with the prenatal massage and facial before moving to the sauna and pools for some meditation and aromatherapy. We have robes in the locker room for you and slippers as well. Please follow me.”

Steph heaved Casey back onto her feet, the young woman groaning as she pushed her hands into her lower back and shuffling after the lithe receptionist. Casey yearned to have the body of the receptionist: thin and muscular, perky small breasts and a flat stomach. Instead she had inflated into this giant baby machine, unable to even reach around her own belly anymore.

“Alright, feel free to leave any belongings in the lockers and put on your robes and slippers. When you’re ready head through those doors and your massage therapists will take it from there!”

Casey held up a robe, knowing full well it wouldn’t come close to closing around her belly. “Do you have any…bigger robes?”

“Um, let me check in the back,” the receptionist said. She hurried out of the room, leaving the two women to undress.

Casey sat heavily on a bench as she stripped her shirt off and kicked off her sandals. She rubbed her hands over her moving orb, willing the babies to chill out for even just a moment. Steph sighed and smiled, patting her daughter’s belly and feeling her grandbabies inside.

“Don’t worry honey,” Steph said. “You’ll feel nice and relaxed in no time.”

Steph gathered her daughter’s clothes as Casey sat naked in the too small robe. The receptionist came back with only a slightly larger one, leaving her bump fully exposed for all to see but at least covering her swollen breasts.

“I’m sorry we don’t have any bigger ones,” the receptionist said.

“It’s fine,” Casey grunted, standing and holding the robe over her massive mammaries. “I’m used to nothing fitting anymore.”

The two women shuffled into the next room, a long hallway stretching before them with many doors leading to other parts of the spa. Soft music played throughout the building while the scent of lavender and eucalyptus permeated the air. Two women appeared at the end of the hallway walking towards them, ready to take them to their private massage rooms.

The two massage therapists nearly stopped in their tracks when they saw the pregnant teen, her belly so big and round it couldn’t be covered by any robe, her tits barely hidden under the plush fabric. Her swollen feet looked cramped in the cheap flip flops they were given and the look of strain on her face made it seem like she would give birth any moment.

“Hi!” Steph said excitedly, waving the women over. “Are you here to take us back for the massages?”

“Y-yes,” one woman said. She had her brown hair in a tight bun and a look of shock on her face. She seemed to be around Steph’s age, short and chubby but still fit. “I’m Tiffany, this is Ivanka. We will be…uh..sorry, we are taking care of you two today.”

“Who’s stuck with me?” Casey groaned.

“Don’t mind my daughter’s attitude, she's just feeling a little…strained right now and is in need of a good pampering,” Steph said.

“I will take care of you,” Ivanka said, a slight accent in her voice. Her blond hair was similarly tied up and her younger face looked more severe. “You are very pregnant! Are you sure you aren’t going to give birth soon?”

“I wish,” Casey mumbled.

“She has a few weeks left growing these five little ones,” Steph responded, glaring at her rude teenage daughter.

“Right,” Tiffany said. “Well follow us. Steph you will be in this room with me and Casey you can follow Ivanka next door.”

The four women walked down the hall, Casey bringing up the rear as she struggled to follow the skinny women in front of her. God I wish they would all get huge like me. Maybe then they’d stop staring, she thought.

Steph waved goodbye for now to Casey as they went into their separate rooms. Inside her room Casey saw an extra large massage table covered in soft blankets, the smell of incense and the sounds of light music helping calm her nerves. Ivanka set to work preparing the table, inviting the young mother to take off her robe and lay on her back.

Casey hesitated, grippin the sides of her heavy belly. She hadn’t been naked in front of anyone but her mother since the night she got pregnant with this litter. With careful steps she waddled to the bed, taking off her robe and handing it to the taller woman, before grunting as she sat heavily on the table. Ivanka helped the young mother get her legs up and eased her down onto her back. She carefully draped a towel over her large breasts and her lower half, giving her some modesty but leaving her baby belly exposed.

The constantly moving orb towered over Casey, nearly 3 feet above her. She could see her babies kicking, the weight of them making it hard for her to breathe in this position. Ivanka smiled as she grabbed the oils and began to massage the big bump. Her hands felt so soft and the warm oil soothed her stretched skin, making the young mother involuntarily moan from the pleasure of it.

“Try and relax, mama,” Ivanka said, moving her hands all around the cramped orb. “These are some big babies in here! No wonder you’re so tired all the time. Let’s get your muscles nice and loose.”

Casey closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of her bump being so thoroughly touched and pressed on. She felt Ivanka’s hands move down to her hips and thighs, massage her swollen ankles and feet. She came back up to her shoulders and chest, massaging her breasts and making her leak little milk droplets. She hadn’t realized how sore her breasts were until she felt the slight relief from the building pressure.

“Alright, let's turn you on your side,” Ivanka whispered. With a lot of effort they got Casey turned over, her belly hanging off the side of the table and her ass barely on the other end.

“Oof, babies please calm down,” Casey whimpered. Ivanka rubbed her bump again, soothing the infants within.

“Let me know if it's too much pressure,” Ivanka continued as she orbited the fecund teen and started massaging her back. “You are very tight back here.”

There was no denying Casey was in absolute heaven. She moaned and whimpered throughout the whole massage, her body finally relaxing after eight months of stress eating and growing five big babies. She rubbed her belly as Ivanka rubbed her back, feeling how absolutely huge she was, seeing how far her belly stretched from her once thin torso. Tears began to form as she realized just how close she was to giving birth to these five.

“Oh, Miss Casey, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Ivanka asked.

Casey shook her head. “No, sorry I’m just really…overwhelmed I guess. Look how huge I am! And I have to give birth to all of them?!”

Ivanka smiled and rubbed her belly again, her touch softer as she scratched where Casey hadn’t been able to reach in months. “I think you are very beautiful. You are creating life!”

Casey wiped her eyes. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course! Look at you glowing with all these babies inside you. I hope to have so many some day.”

Casey felt the woman run a hand under where her belly was laying on the table, pushing her up onto her back again. Casey groaned as all the weight came back onto her chest and lap. Ivanka kept her hands on her bump as she walked around to Casey’s feet, disappearing behind the pale mountain. The soft hands ran down her thighs, pulling her legs wide and exposing her throbbing pussy.

“What’re you doing?” Casey whimpered.

“Do you want to feel even better?” Ivanka asked as she scratched her nails up and down Casey’s inner thigh. “Back in my country, women like you are treated like royalty. The ultimate mothers are able to produce many many babies at once. I cannot wait to have my own babies like you. Hmm I know what you really need.”

Casey felt a shudder run down her spine. She hated to admit it but this pregnancy made her so hormonal she was instantly wet at the touch of the massage therapist. “Is-is-is this allowed?” she stuttered. She felt her knees bend as she bucked her hips the best she could.

“Hmm only for our most special of clients. We are here to make you feel relaxed after all. What better way than to give you some release.”

Ivanka pulled Casey further down until her legs were hanging off the bed. She watched as the lithe woman disappeared behind her belly mountain, feeling her hands spread her wider as her tongue lapped at her sensitive folds.

“Oh fu-fuck!” Casey cried. Her clit was on fire! The woman knew how to treat this big pregnant woman right and Casey gave in, letting her lick, bite, and eat her out until she came hard, arching her back with her eyes rolling in the back of her head.

After she came she slumped on the table, limbs limp and belly heaving up and down as she tried to catch her breath. Ivanka wiped off her mouth and smiled, patting the moving orb of her belly.

“You are going to be a great mother,” Ivanka reassured her. “Now let's get you seated again for the facial.”

The rest of the treatment went on as normal with Casey getting a facial and a hair/head massage. Ivanka helped her up and back into her robe before leading her to the sauna.

“Enjoy the rest of your stay here,” Ivanka said with a wink. Casey blushed and entered the sauna and joined her mother.

It was easy to see where Casey got her curves and good looks. She was the spitting image of her mother, though just a few inches shorter. Steph was always curvy but after having Casey her hips had widened and her breasts stayed perky if not larger than average. She looked up as she saw her daughter waddle in and sit on a wood bench, taking off her robe and leaning back, still recovering from her massages. A sheen of sweat soon appeared all over Casey as the steam enveloped them.

“Feeling better?” Steph asked.

Casey rubbed her belly in wide circles, her cheeks growing red as she thought about Ivanka’s tongue in her. “Mm hm. The massage was really good.”

Steph smiled and adjusted her towel. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. After the sauna we’ll go lounge in the pools for a while.”

Casey nodded, feeling her stomach rumbling. It had been awhile since breakfast and the quints were getting hungry again. Steph could hear her daughter’s stomach and placed a hand on the ball of flesh.

“They’ll have snacks over there too. I made sure of it.”

Steph grabbed their robes, covering Casey’s exposed chest and helping her to her feet. They left the sauna and went to the pool room where a large heated pool waited for them to float in. With the help of her mom and an attendant Casey walked carefully down the steps and into the warm water. Instantly her back felt a million times better, the weight of her pregnancy floating away.

“Oh my god this feels amazing,” Casey moaned, her hands still on her bump. She could see her babies kicking under the water. “We need a pool at home.”

Steph laughed as she disrobed and joined her daughter, the two women naked in the warm water. Attendants came through with trays of fruits and pastries, setting them on the edge of the pool for the young mother to eat. Casey quickly grabbed a few pastries and scarfed them down.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Steph said. “I wanted you to feel pampered and refreshed for your next surprise.”

Casey swallowed. “Surprise?”

Steph smiled big. “You know Carol who I work with? She has a son who’s about your age–”

“Moooom! I don’t need anymore boy troubles! Look what happened last time” Casey held up her bump to emphasize her point.

“I’m not saying he’s going to be your boyfriend. You just seemed lonely lately and I wanted to help you find some new friends. His name is Steve and he’s about a year older than you. He goes to college in town, he builds computers and robots, and you guys like the same music. I thought it was worth a shot.”

Casey grumbled, still eating on the fruit and pastries. “What if he sees me and is disgusted? I’m a fat cow! Who would want to be friends with an 18 year old about to have five babies?”

Steph could see the tears in her daughter's eyes. She swam over and held her daughter close to her naked bosom.

“Oh sweetie I promise he’s excited to meet you. I talked with Carol yesterday and she said he couldn’t wait to come meet you.” Casey sniffled a little. “And if he’s awful to you I’ll slap him for you. Okay?”

Casey nodded. She had to admit, having a friend would be nice. “Okay. I’ll meet him. But I don’t want him to be staring at my belly the whole time.”

“I know honey but it’s hard not to.” Steph chuckled, patting the belly full of her grandbabies.

“When am I meeting him?”

“Tonight for dinner. We’re going to go to your favorite Italian place!” Steph jumped up and down excitedly.

Casey sighed. She loved her mom but sometimes it felt more like she was her friend than her parent. She was admittedly excited to meet this mysterious man but her nerves were growing. She turned back to her food, eating the rest of it quickly but wanting something more substantial.

“Mom, can we get some burgers on the way home?”

An hour and many drive thrus later, Casey and Steph walked into the hair salon to continue her day of pampering. She barely fit in the hairdresser’s chair, her bump squished between her fat thighs. The stylist draped the cape over her but her bump was still visible beneath it.

Casey opted for something simple but cute, the stylist giving her long brown hair a trim before curling it and making her look like a new woman. Next were her nails, a mani/pedi and a bit of makeup to cap off the day of pampering. They headed back home so Casey could get changed and rest before the dinner.

Steph sat her daughter on the couch and left the room, coming back with a dress in a bag. She stood in front of her daughter and unzipped it, showing her a beautiful dark purple floor length dress. It of course looked huge but Casey knew it would barely fit her giant belly and tits.

“Do you like it?” Steph asked. “It’s got plenty of stretch to it, don’t worry.”

“I do. Thank you, mom. For everything today. It really has made me feel better.”

Steph smiled, tears in her eyes. “Of course, honey. I’d do anything for you.” She leaned down and hugged her daughter tightly. “Now let’s get you dressed. I got you matching flip flops so you don’t have to worry about walking in fancy shoes.”

It took a while to squeeze the pregnant girl into it but when she looked in the mirror Casey had to admit she looked pretty. The dress perfectly fit her swollen breasts and hugged her belly in all the right places, making her look big but not disgustingly huge. It went down to her knees instead of the floor (her belly really hogged a lot of the fabric) but it was comfortable and flowy and it covered her belly more than anything else she had worn recently.

“I’m nervous,” Casey said as she looked in the mirror.

“You look amazing! He’s going to love you. Just be yourself.”

Casey sighed deeply and held her belly in her hands, feeling her big babies moving but somehow not hating it as much as she did this morning. Her heart was pounding and her stomach felt full of butterflies but she had to admit she was excited at the prospect of a potential new friend. Hell, maybe he’d even want to stick around when she had all these kids.

With a deep breath and another hug from Steph, the two of them got into the car and headed to the Italian restaurant.

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [3/?]

part 3 (6k words)!! you can read [part 1] here! (it gets worse before it gets better). this chapter is more character-centric (sorry again 🙇‍♀️). i wanted to post this before work eats me alive this week T.T

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

It’s fine, until it isn’t.

—

Yves gets home, showers first (only after Vincent insists that he shower first), heads out into the living room, and shuts off the lights. The lights in the bedroom are still on, bleeding in from the doorframe. 

His head hurts. Every part of him feels cold. He burrows deep into the covers on the pullout bed, rearranges himself until he finds a sufficiently comfortable position, and shuts his eyes. 

Tomorrow, he’ll be away for most of the afternoon—with the wedding rehearsal, and then the rehearsal dinner with the rest of his family—and Vincent will grab dinner and drinks with some of Genevieve’s friends in the meantime. Yves will probably be home late. They won’t see each other for the entire day—at least, until he gets back from dinner some time in the late evening. 

Everything for the wedding is ready. His suit jacket is ironed, his shoes polished; his speech has been written for weeks and rehearsed first alone, and then in front of Leon and Victoire, who’d told him how to make it funnier (Leon) and more concise (Victoire). Two days from today, Aimee and Genevieve will be married.

All he has to do, now, is just see it through.

—

Yves wakes up coughing.

He feels distinctly wrong. His head is throbbing. His limbs feel strangely leaden, like they’re weighing him down, like it’d be a considerable inconvenience to move them—he isn’t sure if he’d be able to sit up properly.

He presses a hand to his forehead, in an attempt to gauge whether he’s running a fever. It’s no use—his hand is warm and clammy. He can’t tell.

Fuck. This is not good. 

One wrong breath leaves him coughing, harshly enough that the coughs seem to reverberate through his frame. His throat burns. He reaches blindly through the dark in an attempt to find one of the waters he’d bought yesterday night, at the convenience store. Had he left a bottle on the nightstand? Or had he gotten rid of the one he’d drunk from last night? His breath hitches, so sharply that he has practically no hope of holding back.

“Hhehh’YISHh-CHHiew! hhHEHH’iIDTSSHh-iiEW!”

The sneezes tear through him with little warning, leaving him flushed and shivering. It’s not warm enough in the living room. He doesn’t know if it’s the air conditioning in the room, or the relative thinness of the blanket he’s under, or if perhaps the window is open just a crack, or if perhaps he just hasn’t been moving enough to get warm. He’s not sure he could pinpoint the cause if he tried.

The only thing that seems evident to him, now, is that he feels immediately, uncomfortably cold. He could get out of bed and look for something to wear—he hadn’t packed any thick jackets, because Provence in March isn’t especially cold, but even one of the dress jackets would be better than nothing, so long as it’s one of the ones which can withstand getting a little wrinkled.

But when he sits up—or, rather, when he attempts to sit up—he feels the world tilt, uncomfortably. He braces himself on the frame of the couch, propping himself up with one arm up on the armrest. 

He definitely has a fever, even if there’s no way for him to verify that right now. Otherwise, it would be strange for him to feel so cold. Even now, only half-vertical, he finds himself shivering so hard he can barely move the blanket back up to sit comfortably around his shoulders.

One wrong breath sends a painful twinge down his throat, and he finds himself coughing, gripping the armrest tightly to keep himself upright. He should get out of bed. He should find water, put on a jacket, make an attempt to get back to sleep.

For now, all he can do is muffle the coughs as best he can into a cupped hand. His chest aches with every cough. Every breath he takes in feels like it only manages to irritate his lungs further.

Through the haze of his exhaustion, he thinks he hears footsteps. The knowledge that he’s keeping Vincent up is the last thing he needs, right now. 

Through the crack under the doorframe, he can see the line of light from the hallway, which is lit even at night. Maybe if he’s going to be up anyways, he should spend the night out in the hallway—at the very least, he’ll be a little quieter out there.

Someone presses a bottle of water into his hands.

“Drink,” Vincent says. “It’s uncapped.”

Yves brings the water to his lips and takes a short, tentative sip, and then another. His throat is sorer than it had been yesterday—the water burns against the back of his throat as he swallows.

Vincent steps past him, past the edge of the couch, to do—something. Yves doesn’t know what. He hears a click, and the lamp on the cabinet by the sofa flickers on, floods the living room with dim yellow light. Vincent regards him carefully, his expression unreadable.

“Sorry,” Yves says. The next breath he takes in exacerbates the tickle at the back of his throat, and he twists away, muffling cough after cough into a tightly cupped hand. “I didn’t mbean to wake you.”

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. He looks… upset, somehow, though the light is dim enough that his expression is hard to make out. Yves tries to think of what else he should say, but his head feels heavy.

He tries to re-cap the bottle of water, though his hands are shaky enough to make it a little difficult. Vincent takes the bottle from him and screws the cap tight in one fluid motion. Yves tries and fails to think of something to joke about.

Vincent presses a hand to his forehead. His hand is comfortingly warm, and a little calloused. It’s strange, how good it feels to be touched—he knows and knows well that it means nothing, but the gentle press of Vincent’s fingers to his skin—when he’s spent the past few days trying to keep his distance from everyone—is strangely comforting. Yves leans into the contact, despite all logic.

Vincent pulls away, too soon. “You’re—”

“Warm?” Yves finishes for him.

“Feverish,” Vincent clarifies, with a frown. “Did you already know that?”

“I had a hunch,” Yves answers, honestly.

Vincent just stares at him, for a moment, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. Yves repositions the blankets over his shoulders, a little self-conscious. “It’s fide. I’ll take something for it,” Yves says. “You should go back to sleep.”

“We slept early,” Vincent says. “I’m not tired.”

“What time is it?”

Vincent glances at his watch. “5:34.”

“That’s still early enough that you should be asleep.” Yves sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. His head hurts, and there’s a prickle in his nose again. “Sorry. I can be quieter.”

His breath hitches. In a frantic attempt to keep his promise, he lifts the blanket to his face and stifles—or, rather, attempts to stifle—the sneeze into the fabric.

“hh—! hhEHH’NGKTSHCH-iiew!”

It’s still not very quiet, despite his best efforts, and the attempt to stifle leaves him coughing a little. It’s a good thing they’re not sharing a bed, he thinks. He hasn’t exactly been careful about keeping this illness to himself.

“Bless you,” Vincent says, rising to his feet. He ducks into the bedroom, only to be back a moment later with a box of tissues, which he tucks into the crook between the pullout bed and the sofa armrests, conveniently in reach. “Was it like this last night?”

“What?”

“Were you unable to sleep last night?”

It’s not an accusation, but Yves freezes at the question, nonetheless. For a moment, he worries—that Vincent knows precisely how little sleep he’s gotten since they landed in France. That Vincent was awake last night—or worse, that Yves was the one who kept him up—which is why he’s asking this question now.

But if he knew, wouldn’t he have said something about it yesterday? 

“I slept fine,” Yves says. 

There’s a cold breeze coming in from somewhere—from the hallway, or from one of the air conditioning vents, he can’t say. Yves tries his best to suppress a shiver. He can tell, by the change to Vincent’s expression—the way Vincent’s eyes linger on him a little too long—that he doesn’t do it well enough.

“You should really have taken the bed,” Vincent says, with a sigh. “It’s warmer.”

“It’s warm here too,” Yves says. There probably wouldn’t even be a problem if he weren’t feverish—it’s just the relative temperature difference that’s making him shiver. “Are you goidg to stop interrogating me ndow?”

“If you stop giving me reasons to be worried,” Vincent says plainly, “Then I will.”

Yves sighs. He’s cold, and exhausted, and he wants this argument to be over. He doesn’t want to have to justify all of this to Vincent, who should be enjoying this vacation instead of worrying about Yves and whatever cold-slash-flu he’s managed to pick up this time. “This is not the first time I’ve been under the weather,” he says. “I—” he veers away to face the opposite direction from Vincent, pulls the blanket up to cover his face. “hHeh-!-hHEHh‘nGKTTSHH-iiIEw!”

“Bless you.”

“—I kdow what I’m doing, snf. I don't even feel that—hh… hHheh'iiDDZZCHH-iIIEW!” The sneeze comes on too quickly for him to stifle. “—that udwell,” he finishes, sniffling, though that’s not entirely truthful. He lifts an elbow to muffle a few coughs into it, blinking through the tears that are surfacing, irritatingly, in his vision.

“So you’ve said,” Vincent says.

“Yes,” Yves says. “You can trust me on this.”

Vincent looks at him for a moment. For a moment, Yves waits for him to refute this, waits for him to point out just how unprepared he is, just how little of a plan he has aside from sticking this out until he has the chance to crash and burn.

“What do you need?” he says, instead.

Yves blinks at him. It’s not the question he expects Vincent to ask.

“Nothidg,” he says, honestly. “Seriously. It’s just a cold. I’ll take somethidg for it when I wake up.”

“Cold medicine?” To Yves’s nod, Vincent says, “I can get it for you, if you want.”

“No need. I’ll probably just — hhEhh-! HhEHh’IITShh-iiEW! Ugh… I’ll pick somethidg up from the codvenience store on the way to breakfast.”

Vincent turns aside to muffle a yawn into a cupped hand. Yves is unpleasantly reminded that he’s probably the sole reason why Vincent is awake right now.

“You should sleep, seriously,” Yves says, insistent. “Maybe you’ll be able to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep before sunrise. I’ll be okay.”

Vincent blinks at him. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Vincent says, softly. 

Then he stands, sets the bottle of water on the cabinet by the sofa, switches off the lamp, and heads back into the bedroom. Yves listens as his footsteps recede. His sinuses are starting to feel like they’re slightly waterlogged, and the pressure from behind his eyelids is back, throbbing.

The tickle in his nose heightens, momentarily, and he finds himself muffling another set of sneezes into the bedsheets. He desperately hopes it’s quiet enough to not be disruptive. It’s hard to be fully quiet when whatever he has leaves him sneezing so forcefully, but he’s determined to try. 

The coughing fit that follows leaves his throat feeling like it’s been nearly scraped raw. He clears his throat quietly, though that hurts, too. He takes another small sip of the water, though it goes down his throat with such difficulty he finds himself coughing again.

Two more days. He just has to make it through. He’ll grab a pack of cold and flu medication from the convenience store downstairs—the kind that’s supposed to smother all the symptoms—and then he’ll be good as new, he’s sure.

Yves shuts his eyes, turns to the side, and tries his best to get comfortable. He’ll be less disruptive if he’s asleep. It’s just getting there that’s the problem. He’s exhausted—that fact only seems to become more evident the longer he stays awake—but every time he finds himself drifting off, he’s jolted awake by another untimely sneeze which wrenches him back into consciousness.

In college, whenever he was up unreasonably late for some reason, Erika used to tell him to Stop worrying, Yves, I can hear you overthinking from the other side of the room. Ask anyone else and they’d say that Yves has his life reasonably put together—being the eldest of three does that to you. He’d spent his formative years growing up trying to be the sort of person Leon and Victoire could lean on—the kind of person impervious to the sorts of stressful situations he’d gotten regularly thrown into—and for the most part, it’d worked.

He’d learned, early on, that it is not really that difficult to keep things from people. He likes to think of himself as reliable, even if that means that whenever something does come up—something that feels frustrating and insurmountable—it doesn’t really hurt any less when he goes through it privately.

Erika had always been good at seeing through his bullshit. It was one of the things he liked about her—that he could lean on her if he needed to, without worrying that it’d take its toll on her. That she’d take a look at his problems, which always felt so all-consuming in the moment, and make them seem simple and solvable and almost trivial.

It’s hard not to miss her, now, when he’s alone in the dark, devoid of any and all distractions. Or maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was just having someone he didn’t have to hide from.

Yves wonders, faintly, what Vincent would’ve said if he were more honest with him. He and Vincent aren’t actually dating, but he thinks maybe Vincent would understand. He thinks that they’ve been getting along well, as of late—he might even consider them friends.

But then again, hasn’t Vincent agreed to do all of this—lying to Yves’s friends and family, falsifying their relationship, letting Yves drag him from one celebration to the next—because it’s easy? Because he is willing to tolerate going to a party, or a housewarming, or a wedding, where there are no strings attached, when after the night is over he can drop the act cleanly?

It’s a lie that they’re telling, but it’s a self contained one. The moment they step foot out of whatever event they’re attending, there’s nothing left to pretend. Yves can go back to living his own life, and Vincent can go back to living his. Would Vincent really have agreed to do any of this if that weren’t the case? 

It’s going to be fine, Erika would have said. Just breathe. She’s not around to tell him this, now, but he still tries.

The medicine will be enough to get him through today, and the day after. It has to be.

—

When Yves falls asleep, it’s the kind of restless sleep that sits somewhere in between unconsciousness and wakefulness. He dreams in fragments of scenes—him at Aimee and Genevieve’s wedding, the details hazy and illogical and unusually bright, the weddings he’d been to in the past all superimposed into one.

When he wakes up to the sound of his alarm, it’s to a pounding headache and what he’s certain must be a fever. He can’t seem to stop shivering. It’s already bright out—the curtains in the bedroom are pulled shut, but light streams in from the sliver of space between them.

He feels too cold and somehow entirely devoid of energy, though he doesn’t remember doing anything particularly tiring. Sitting up makes the throbbing pain in his head sharpen, so painfully that he has to grip the side of the couch to steady himself, blinking against the dizziness. If Aimee saw him right now, he thinks, she’d send him straight home—he’s in no state to attend a wedding, and he’s not sure if he’s in any state to pretend that’s not the case.

He breath hitches. He raises an arm to shield his face, habitually, even though there’s no one here to witness—

“hhEhh-’iZZSSHH’Iew!” The singular sneeze is, unfortunately, far from relieving. The tickle in his nose is irritatingly persistent, even when he reaches up to rub his nose, which is starting to run. “Hh-! hhEH-!! HEHh-’IDDZSCHh-yYew! hHEHH’iDDSCHh-iEWW!hhEhH-! H‘IIDzZCH-YIIIEEew! Ugh…” The sneezes scrape unpleasant against his already-sore throat, leaving him hunched over as he muffles cough after cough into his arm.

There’s a small packet of cold medicine on his bedside, along with an uncapped bottle of water, and Vincent is nowhere to be found. The medication is a relief. It’s strangely thoughtful—a part of him is a little worried that Vincent’s only gotten this for him out of a sense of obligation—but he’s grateful for it, nonetheless. 

It’s exactly what he needs. Surely if he takes something for this, his symptoms will be, at the very least, tolerable enough for him to function as usual.

He picks up the packet, squints down at the instructions. The text is inconveniently small, and he’s always been better at speaking French than he is at reading it, but he gets it eventually. It’s supposed to last six hours. If he times this right, he can take a dose that will last him until the end of the rehearsal dinner tonight, and then—if he’s not feeling better by tomorrow—take another before the wedding starts. 

It will be fine. He uncaps the bottle by the cabinet, downs two pills, squeezes his eyes shut, and sits there for a minute, forces himself to breathe, waits for the uncomfortable pressure in his temples to subside.

Then he shoots off a quick text—

Y: thanks for the cold meds :)

Y: sorry i essentially left you with some strangers (again)

Y: this seems to be a theme for me huh

Vincent texts him back just a few minutes later:

V: No problem. I hope you feel better soon

V: Leon and Victoire invited me out for lunch

Yves blinks. That’s a little surprising. But come to think about it, Vincent’s plans with Genevieve’s friends aren’t until dinner time, so it makes sense that he’s out doing something else.

His second thought is: he is definitely in for an earful from both Leon and Victoire.

Y: jealous! have fun! 

His phone buzzes not long later with Vincent’s response.

V: I considered waking you, but I figured you could use the sleep

V: Do you want me to bring anything back?

Sure enough, when he checks his unread texts, Leon has texted him, are u alive????? And then, a few minutes later, ur sick? dude worst fucking timing ever 😦, to which Yves types back, thanks for your glowing reassurance

Victoire has sent him, vincent told me you’re sick :((( and, feel better soon (preferably before 3pm tomorrow!!), to which Yves says, thanks, fwding this to my body. hope it gets the message ✌️

Then he sends back to Vincent:

Y: i’m good, but thanks for asking! enjoy lunch 

Vincent doesn’t say anything, to that, which means that he’s probably busy. Yves makes a note to thank him in person later. And again, much later—when all of this is over.

He just has to get the next day and a half to go according to plan.

—

The wedding rehearsal is mercifully uneventful. They walk twice through the processional, and then twice through the recessional. Yves picks a seat near one of the back rows, shivers through thirty minutes of run throughs, and tries to cough as discreetly as he can. He stifles every sneeze into a vague approximation of silence—he’s never been good at stifling—and does his best to ignore the mounting congestion in his sinuses, the persistent ache behind his temples.

It's easy enough to ignore all of those things in his excitement. He’s happy to be back—here, in France, surrounded by his whole extended family A part of this still feels unreal to him. He’s really here, in a place that feels familiar and simultaneously so novel, to watch someone who’s influenced him so fundamentally get married. 

They’re all dressed for the spring weather. For the wedding rehearsal, Yves picked out a gray blazer over a dress shirt, chinos, and dress shoes. It’s not quite as formal as what he’s planning to wear tomorrow—the shoes are the only item he’s planning to rewear—but he finds himself distinctly grateful for the blazer jacket when the wind threads through the trees, knocking his tie slightly out of alignment.

It’s not unusually cold out—this would probably be considered temperate weather here, in March—but the wind is cold enough to offset the otherwise agreeable temperature.

The cold medicine helps, too—it keeps him feeling well enough to stay upright, which is already an accomplishment. He’s congested—his sinuses hurt a little, like everything’s a little waterlogged—but at least he isn’t sneezing as much as he was last night. His head still feels heavy, but the pain is a little duller, a little more muted; he’s tired, but he thinks right now he could stay awake on pure adrenaline alone.

“Dude, you sound awful,” Leon says, after the rehearsal ends.

“Thadks,” Yves says, muffling a fit of coughs into his elbow. “You always kdow just how to flatter me.”

Leon looks him over with a frown. “Are you sure you’re good for tomorrow?”

Yves doesn’t know. “Let’s hope so,” he says. “I don’t have any contingedcy plans for if I’m not.”

“I’m sure Aimee would understand if you told her.”

“I’m sure she would.” Yves looks over to where Aimee’s standing—she’s in the middle of a conversation with Yves’s parents and some of the adults on Genevieve’s side of the family. He’s too far to make out what she’s talking about, but she looks happy—she’s gesturing animatedly, her eyes bright. Every so often, he sees her flash a smile at Genevieve, as if to make sure Genevieve is following along.

Leon seems to understand that Yves has no intention of telling either of them, because he sighs. Yves changes the subject before he can say anything. “How was ludch with Vincent?”

“I like him,” Leon says, brightening at the question. “He’s surprisingly pretty funny. I hope you guys stay together.”

“Just because he’s funny?”

“That certainly doesn’t hurt,” Leon says, grinning. “But you work with him, right? If he’s a nice person while he’s looking at like, tax forms, or whatever, he’s probably a great person when he’s doing anything else.”

“Yves! Leon!” someone waves them over. When Yves turns, he sees it’s Roy, one of his younger cousins from his dad’s side of the family. “Pictures!”

“Coming,” Leon shouts back. 

Yves has no idea why there are pictures happening today when the wedding is tomorrow, but he fixes his tie hastily and heads over to join them both.

—

When dinner rolls around, Yves finds he has no appetite, but he eats what he can and spends the rest of the time making conversation with some of his aunts and uncles. He’s always found this kind of small talk to be more enjoyable than it is tedious. They ask about his job, about his workload, about life in the states, about his parents, about Vincent—all things that he knows intimately, and has no problem speaking on. He thinks that speaking in French makes him a little more deliberate with his answers, partially because he has to spend some time formulating the sentences when they get more complicated, and he likes that, too. It has all the camaraderie of a family gathering—warm and crowded, welcoming, a little chaotic.

He finds Genevieve after dinner, sitting out on the steps.

“Hey,” he says, in French. She looks up, and he motions to the steps beside her. “Do you want some time alone before you get swamped with codgratulations tomorrow, or can I crash your alone time early?”

She smiles up at him. “You can sit here,” she says.

He takes a seat on the steps—a few feet away from her, because he doesn’t want to risk passing whatever he has onto her. He doesn’t know Genevieve very well. He knows her best through Aimee—through the stories Aimee has told about her, through the way Aimee’s entire disposition seems to change around her—but he’s exchanged very few words with her outside of that, all over the summer during their yearly family reunions in France. His extended family is large enough and the family reunions hectic enough that he can probably count the number of conversations he’s had with her in person on one hand.

“So,” he says. “How are you feelidg before the big day?”

“Do you want the good answer, or the honest answer?”

“The honest one,” Yves says. “hit me with it.”

For a moment, Genevieve doesn’t say anything. Yves zips his jacket up a little higher, just to have something to do. Genevieve pulls her legs in towards her chest.

“I’m terrified,” she says.

“You think somethidg might go wrong?” Yves asks, surprised. “You guys have planned this all out so thoroughly.”

“It’s not that,” she says. “It’s more like—this is probably going to be one of the most important things I’ve ever done,” she says. “You know, when something is really important to you, so it’s just that much more crucial that you don’t mess it up?”

“You’re the bride,” Yves says, clearing his throat. “I don’t think you can mess up. Unless you like, hheh-! hHheh… HEH’IIDZschH-YIEEW! snf-! Unless you get cold feet and say no when you’re supposed to be saying your vows. I wod’t forgive you if you do that, by the way.”

She laughs. “God, no. I’d never do that. It’s just—there’s all this perceived… I don’t know. Like, fragility around the moment. Like you’re just waiting for the moment to crystallize, and once it sets, it will be like that forever, so you have to make sure that it crystallizes right.”

“I’m guessing you’re ndot a fan of, like, pottery,” Yves says. He tries thinking about what other kinds of art carry the same lack of tolerance for backwards revision. “Or sculpting.”

“I haven’t tried either of those things,” she says. “Though I would probably be bad at them.”

Yves looks off into the distance, towards the countryside, the rows of verdant green hills which unfurl before them, the white cobblestone paths, the houses lining the winding roads all the way to the horizon.

“I think you don’t have to be so concerned about what it’s supposed to be,” he says. “You can give yourself permission to just—live it. Enjoy it, free of expectations. Who cares what you think about it after, right,” he says. “You’ll have a ring on your left hand. That’s good enough to offset any—well, awkwardness, or clumsiness, or anything, because as the bride, you are sort of incapable of doing anything wrong, by default.”

“I guess,” Genevieve says.

“It’d be a disservice to Aimee if you spent the wedding worrying about how to get things right idstead of like, just living,” Yves says, turning to face her. “What’s the worst that could happen? Like, you spill your drink during the wedding toast, or your mascara smears a little, or you trip on your wedding gown and you have to be helped up by the woman you love most? I think that almost makes it more romantic,” he says. “Because however the moment crystallizes, it’ll be you.”

“Did you learn all of this through pottery and sculpting?” Genevieve asks, wiping at her eyes. She looks a little better than before—she’s sitting up straighter, and the tension in her shoulders is less pronounced.

Yves grins at her. “I have a younger brother and a younger sister,” he says. He clears his throat again, though it doesn’t really do a good job at making his voice sound less hoarse. “It’s exactly as bad as you think it is. I have to be the one to talk them out of their stage fright like, all the time.”

Genevieve laughs. “It must be lively,” she says. “Your whole family is very accommodating.”

“They’re certaidly a handful,” Yves says, with a laugh that tapers off into a short cough. “I love them to death. And I’ll be happy to have you as part of them.”

She smiles at him. The evening light strikes the windblown strands of her hair gold. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah,” he says. “No problem.”

They sit for awhile in silence. Yves crosses his arms in an attempt to conserve warmth and tries his best not to shiver too visibly.

“How did you kdow it was her?” he asks—a sudden, impulsive question.

As soon as he says it, he feels the urge to take it back. Genevieve is already stressed out enough about the wedding without him asking her difficult, abstract questions the day before the ceremony. He opens his mouth to apologize.

“There was never any doubt,” she says.

When he looks over at her, her expression looks a little wistful.

“Like, one day I woke up and I realized that whatever future I imagined for myself—in Marseille, or elsewhere; as a copywriter, or a journalist, or a director, or something entirely different—she would always be there.” Yves understands that—back when he’d been dating Erika, he’d felt like that too. That she was going to be the last person he’d ever date. That there was no conceivable future for him that didn’t involve her.

“Those kinds of revelations would come at the most insignificant of times,” Genevieve says. “I’d look over her halfway through morning coffee, or I’d watch her pick groceries from the aisle, or I’d watch her fiddle with the radio as she drove, and then it would strike me.”

“That you wanted to be with her?”

“That I was happy.” Genevieve tilts her head back to face the setting sun. “I’m really happy. It sounds like such a simple thing, and it is, but even a few years ago I’m not sure if I could’ve told you that that was true. And I think that finding someone who makes you feel that way—like they’d guard your happiness under any circumstance—is really something special.”

“You were the one who proposed to her,” he says. He remembers Aimee texting him about it, the night after it’d happened, remembers how he’d excused himself from dinner somewhere or other, ducked out of the room to get on call with her. She’d sobbed recounting it, the engagement ring on her finger.

“I was,” Genevieve says. She smiles. “I knew that if I gave up this chance I’d be kicking myself for it for the rest of my life.”

—

When he gets back from dinner at last, it’s late.

The cold/flu medicine he took from earlier is starting to wear off. His whole body aches—spending the evening outside in the cold probably didn’t help with that—and even in the relative warmth of the hotel room, he finds that he can’t stop himself from shivering.

He takes a hot shower, which feels pleasantly indulgent in the moment, but not long after he shuts off the water, he finds himself shivering again. The absence of the hot water makes him a little dizzy—he finds himself gripping the tiled wall, pausing for a moment behind the shower curtain to catch his balance.

His head really hurts. It’s the kind of sharp, throbbing pain that makes him all too aware of his heartbeat. He gets changed, towels his hair dry, and steps out of the bathroom.

Vincent is sitting on the bed, reading something. He must’ve gotten back at some point while Yves was showering. At the sound of the door, he puts the book down and looks up.

“How was the wedding rehearsal?” he asks.

“Great,” Yves says. He clears his throat, but clearing his throat irritates his throat enough that he has to muffle a few coughs into his elbow. “How was dinner with Genevieve’s friends?”

“They were very nice,” Vincent says.

“Ndicer than my friends in New York?”

“I felt less like I was being evaluated,” Vincent says, with a smile. “But if they were to express their disapproval of me in French, I would be none the wiser.”

Yves laughs. “I’mb sure that even if you learned the ladguage in full, you wouldn’t hear any disapproval from them.” He takes a seat on the couch, if only because he can’t quite trust his legs to keep him upright for the entire course of the conversation. “What did you guys talk about?”

“Lots of things. Life in France,” he says. “Life in the states. Individual freedom and the formal institution of marriage.”

“Do you believe in mbarriage?”

Vincent looks at him. “I think I believe in it just as much as everyone else does,” he says. Then, after a moment: “It worked out for my parents.”

“The busidess competition proved to be a good edough reason?”

Vincent traces a finger down the spine of the book, over the gold lettering. His shoulders settle. “They weren’t in love when they got married,” he says. Hearing him state it so plainly comes as a surprise to Yves. “Strictly speaking, I’m not sure if they ever were in love. But I think they came to love each other eventually.”

“What about you?” Yves asks. “Do you think you’ll fall in love someday?”

“Is that really something I’d choose?” Vincent says. “It either happens or it doesn’t.”

“Sure, but there are plenty of ways you can seek out love actively.” 

“If I found something worth pursuing, I’d go after it,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs. “That’s very like you.” he wonders what kind of person Vincent might be drawn to enough to see as worth pursuing. Wonders if, after all of this is over, he’ll even be in Vincent’s life for long enough to know.

His head hurts. The slight prickle of irritation in his sinuses is already tiringly familiar.

“hHEh… HeHh’IIDZSCH-yyiEW!” The sneeze snaps him forward at the waist, messy and spraying. He reaches for the tissue box Vincent left him this morning, still nestled into the crook of the couch, and grabs a generous handful of tissues. “Hh… hehh-HEh-HhehHh’IIzSSCH-iEEw! Hh…. HEHh’DJSCCHh-IEew!”

The sneezes leave him coughing, afterwards. His throat feels raw and tender—he raises the tissues back up to his face to blow his nose.

“You sound worse than you did last night,” Vincent says, with a frown.

Yves opens his mouth to speak, but he finds himself coughing again. He can feel Vincent’s eyes on him. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, to be seen when he’s like this by someone who’s usually so well put together. “I’b a little prone to losidg my voice when I’m sick,” he admits. “It’s pretty incodvedient.”

“I’m probably not making it any better by talking to you,” Vincent says. That might be true—Yves is half sure that any time he does lose his voice, it’s because he typically makes no effort to converse any less than usual—but Yves likes talking to Vincent. Besides, they haven’t talked all day. 

He opens his mouth to say as much, but then Vincent asks: “How are you feeling?”

“Good as new,” Yves says. When Vincent raises an eyebrow, at that, he amends: “Good enough for tomorrow, at least. The ceremony doesn’t start until three, but I’ll probably be up earlier to see if there’s anything else Aimee and Genevieve ndeed help with.”

Vincent’s eyebrows furrow. “If anything comes up, I can help.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’m offering.”

“I can handle it on my own. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, I— hHHEh’IDJZSCHh-yyEW! snf-! I’mb really fine. I swear.”

“Yves—”

“I’ve done this before,” he insists, which is true, too—he’s certainly been through worse. It would be wrong to put himself first, to take things easy when he might be needed still. “It doesn’t have to be your problem.”

For a moment, there’s something there, to Vincent’s expression—a flash of something that looks suspiciously close to hurt. Then it’s gone. When he blinks, Vincent’s expression is carefully neutral, as usual. He wonders if he’d imagined it.

“Okay,” he says. He sets the book gingerly on the bedside counter, and pulls the cord on the lamp. Darkness engulfs the bedroom. “You should sleep soon, if you’re able to.” A pause. The rustling of sheets. “Goodnight.” Yves wants to say something. He has a feeling that he’s messed things up, somehow, though he’s not entirely sure how. 

But what can he say? He just—he just wants, desperately, for all of this to be okay. He wants the wedding to go just as planned, wants to be as present and as reliable as Aimee deserves for him to be. All of that responsibility falls on him and him alone, doesn’t it? 

“Goodnight,” Yves says, instead.

[ Part 4 ]

[chirp-a-chirp]

Clavis Lelouch • Clavis x Emma • Tags: Fluff; Crack; Pranks; Mischief; Cat-puns • Word Count: ~1900 • Triggers: None • Brief appearances by Chevalier, Cyran, and Sariel

Title: Cat-astrophe

Description: It’s Clavis. Of course there’s chaos! This time, in feline form 😸

For @katriniac as a part of the Ikemen Prince Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary and @saeyoungs-sunflower 😊

Cat-inspired Clavis drawing (aka Catvis) done by @aide-falls

…

“This doesn’t look like a good idea.”

“You’re right, my dear. It’s a perfectly wicked one!” Clavis flicked a finger at the glass bottle he was holding. The bottle contained a light purple liquid that bubbled and fizzled like champagne. It appeared benign, even pleasant looking, until one looked directly above at the ceiling and the soot that covered it. Emma opened a window to let out the plumes of smoke that lingered.

“Most liquids don’t spontaneously burst into flames.” Emma coughed pointedly, moving her hands in a fanning motion to push the smoke outside.

“Unless Licht is cooking, haha!”

“Will you tell me what it is you’re trying to make at least?”

Clavis put down the bottle. “And where would the fun in that be?” He smirked, a look of utter delight on his face. “I DO have the antidote to this—well, most of it.” Clavis gestured to a second glass bottle with a light bluish tint to it. Emma’s eyes widened.

“Could it be that my lovely lover is worried for me?” Clavis tweaked Emma’s nose playfully. “It’s not as if this liquid will make me disappear or anything!” His eyes flashed, with a hint of challenge to them. “And even if it did, I’m sure you’d find me.”

…

The next day, Clavis was gone.

His disappearance had not been noticed until late morning, when a terrified palace butler was forced to wake up Chevalier instead of Clavis. None of the princes seemed particularly bothered at this development. As Emma made inquiries, their reactions were varied—relief from Yves (Licht and I can have a tea party uninterrupted!); mockery laced with pity from Nokto (you’re getting a day off from him; isn’t that a good thing?); and the equivalent of a princely shrug from Leon (I haven’t seen smoke since yesterday, so I’m sure he’s fine.). But, they all agreed on one thing—they hadn’t seen Clavis.

Emma entered Chevalier’s private library hoping he’d know what was going on. She placed a rare romance book from Jade on a side table near where Chevalier sat reading. There was an approving nod as elegant fingers picked up the book. He offered a rather unusual hint.

“My fool of a brother lost one of his nine lives today.”

Emma tilted her head. “Can you elaborate on that?”

“Do you have the next installment of this book?”

“It won’t be published until next month!”

“Then our conversation ends now, Simpleton.” The corner of Chevalier’s mouth lifted as he placed the book in his lap. As Emma left the room, she heard Chevalier say one more thing.

“He’s not complicated. He needs something from you, but cannot bring himself to admit it.”

Chevalier’s words echoed in Emma’s head as she headed toward Clavis’ bedroom. She took out a key from her dress pocket, heart lurching at the breach of privacy.

The room was virtually the same as it was when she was with Clavis yesterday. Emma knew he saw this place as a shrine to his failures, a testament to mediocrity. But, she saw much more—it was a place of studiousness, ingenuity, and childish delight. Books on law, pharmacology, science, and philosophy were neatly arranged on his bookshelf. One of the middle shelves held a cup with the phrase #1 worst emblazoned on it—a gag gift Emma had bought Clavis when they first became a couple. She grabbed a book at random and noted with a smile that the book was highlighted in numerous colors, with notes in the margins about various herbs that could be used for different smoke traps.

Emma placed the book back on the shelf and glanced at various pieces of paper attached to the wall above his writing desk. The papers contained lists with the number of traps discovered by other people. Various palace staff and princes had tick marks next to their names, each tick mark indicating a trap they had fallen into. Yves encompassed one entire sheet of paper by himself, and to Emma’s surprise, Chevalier had one mark next to his name. She’d have to ask Clavis about THAT story.

But Emma had to find him first. She sat at his desk chair, feeling lonely. She looked down at her hands—Clavis had held her hand so often in their adventures; she now felt empty without it.

I know you feel like you’re not enough Clavis. But you are. Where are you?

“Meow?”

Emma turned her head at the sound. A beautiful long-haired cat emerged from behind Clavis’ couch. Its paws, the tip of its tail, and its chest were light grey while the rest of its body was purple. The cat’s eyes were golden and sparkling with mischief.

“Are you lost little one?” The cat jumped in Emma’s lap, nesting between her thighs as if it thought it belonged there. “You’re not the only one who likes that spot. Though your touch is gentler.” Emma chuckled, scratching the cat behind its ears. She then noticed the cat wore a dark purple necktie that looked remarkably familiar. Embedded in the center of the necktie was a tag containing a name—Catvis.

Catvis leaped onto the desk, its tail bristling (Emma corrected herself…the cat was decidedly male). He pushed a drawer open with a paw and fished out a gold-chained necklace with his teeth. The necklace held two golden medallions—one reading “Catvis” and the other “Accomplice”. Emma swore she saw the cat smirk as he dropped the necklace in her lap.

A notion so absurd it bordered on ludicrous flitted into Emma’s head. She reached out her hand and patted the cat on his head. “Clavis, is that you?”

The cat practically pranced with joy. He head butted Emma’s hand, leaning into her touch, before jumping deftly onto her lap again, exposing his belly.

Emma shook her head in disbelief. “The things you do for attention are ridiculous Clavis.” The cat nipped Emma’s finger, causing her to pull her hand away. “Oh, excuse me. Do you prefer to be called Catvis while in this form?” Emma’s words were dripping in sarcasm, but the cat purred contently and licked the finger he bit.

Emma recalled the pharmacology book she glanced at earlier. “You were working on a polymorph potion, weren’t you?” Catvis beamed and extended his body so that he was standing on Emma’s lap, his front paws on her shoulders. He rubbed both sides of her cheeks affectionately.

“You really are ridiculous. Ridiculously amazing.” Catvis blinked, not expecting to hear that. “A polymorph potion has never been successfully made until now. A mere Chevalier would not—could not—think to do this.” Emma blushed at her words—expressing her honest feelings was easier with him in this form.

Catvis nuzzled against Emma’s face. He craved this attention, this affirmation. Needed it. Emma’s heart trembled at the realization. She held him in that standing pose in her lap for a while, letting her guard down. After a while, her eyes drifted to the bottle of blue liquid Clavis mentioned yesterday on a table. “We have to change you back eventually, you know. What ingredient is missing from your antidote?”

Catvis jumped back on the desk, finding a pen and fitting it into his mouth. With his head at an incredibly awkward angle, he wrote out two words on a piece of paper: Black rawhide.

“Wow, I can READ this!” Apparently, Clavis’ eighth wonder was legible handwriting without opposable thumbs. “There’s no rawhide here, so we’ll have to look for it. Come here, let me carry you as we search for some.”

Catvis went back to Emma’s lap, his head pushing the necklace into her hand. “I am NOT wearing a cat collar.” Catvis pouted. Emma felt a pang of guilt at his expression. “Well, maybe just this ONCE.”

A few moments later, Emma came out of the bedroom, with Catvis perched on her shoulders. As Emma walked down the palace stairs, she spied a familiar plume of fiery red hair.

“My Lady!” Cyran ran to Emma. “What news of our missing charge?”

“You’re not going to believe this.”

“Try me. Nothing about him surprises me anyone.”

“You MAY want to reconsider that statement.” Emma turned her shoulder and gestured to Catvis.

“I didn’t know you owned a cat.” Cyran sniffed loudly.

“WE own a cat. A very naughty one at that.” Emma smirked and bopped Catvis on his nose.

AAAAAAA-CHO!

“I’m highly allergic to cats. Especially naughty ones.” Cyran’s eyes watered. “So, no, I do NOT own a cat.”

Emma gestured to the “Catvis” button on her feline companion. “Actually, we do. Clavis created a polymorph potion and here are the results of THAT.” Catvis grinned broadly—it was a grin Cyran knew all too well.

Catvis’ ears twitched at a sound down a nearby hallway. He jumped off of Emma’s shoulders and sprinted away.

“Catvis, wait!” Emma began running after him, but Cyran erupted into a violent coughing fit, one so strong it made his cheeks blaze as red as his hair. A maid was tasked with fetching him a glass of water as Emma slapped his back.

“I-I’m fine!” Cyran collected his breath. “Were you serious when you said that cat was—“ A shriek from the maid carrying Cyran’s water interrupted the conversation. A furry purple and grey blur darted past her. Catvis ran up the stairs, carrying a black rawhide whip in his mouth. The whip crackled in the air as Catvis flew past Emma and Cyran. Sariel came bounding from the hallway, violet eyes narrowed with rage. “It is enough to have one Hellcat among us. I did not think we had a second living in the palace.”

Emma looked apologetically at Cyran, her hand pointing at Sariel. “Cyran, can you handle this?”

“I…do not get paid enough for these shenanigans, My Lady.” AAAAAAA-CHO!

“At least you get paid.”

…

With a piece of Sariel’s whip, the antidote was now complete and consumed by Catvis (he lapped the potion from Emma’s #1 worst cup). The antidote would take a few hours to be effective, so Emma laid down on Clavis’ couch, a blanket covering her legs and Catvis perched in his proper spot—between Emma’s thighs.

Emma couldn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have done so, for she woke up to the pre-dawn hours to a heavier weight on her body and something touching her face. Emma’s eyes slowly opened as she felt an arm—a human arm!—encircle her waist, and roaming hands caressing over her clothes.

“Ah, you’re awake my lovely lover. How wonderful.” Alluring golden eyes shone brightly in the darkened room as Clavis’ lips traced a trail down Emma’s neck.

“Hmmm,” Emma’s fingers carded through Clavis’ hair.

“Are you so delighted you’re at a loss for words? Cat got your tongue?” There was a purr to his voice as Clavis leaned forward and presented a cheek to be kissed.

A cheek was not enough. Emma pulled Clavis down for a kiss, her lips capturing his. “You’re an absolute cat-astrophe, darling.” As she pulled away, Emma’s quiet laughter tickled Clavis’ ear.

“But you’re my cat-astrophe. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[helpfandom]

Yandere Stobotnik x Platonic Reader Chapter 1: Chilling

Cross posted on Quotev, I am picking this back up!

The morning light shone through the windows, directly hitting you in the eye as you woke up to a shower that could be heard through out the house. Tom was taking a morning shower before his shift would start, and Maddie was preparing her yoga space for her morning routine. Ozzy was laying at your feet, he had spent the night sleeping with you. Out of the humans, it seemed like they were all active in the house, except you, you just stared at your ceiling for 30 minutes until you had mustered enough energy to get out of bed and get dressed.

As you started figuring out your outfit, Maddie walked in the house, yelling "Good Morning!", You could hear Tom finishing his shower as well. You quickly opted to grab whatever you saw and put it on, causing you to wear a mismatched outfit, which didn't feel right, but this was a safe place so it was okay. As you walked down the stairs and into the kitchen and living downstairs area, Maddie was finishing up making breakfast for you, Tom and her. 

She put the plate of waffles down in front of you and in front of her chair, and slipped a piece of meat to Ozzy before sliding into her honorary seat at the table, She brought Tom some donuts she bought yesterday. You meticulously made sure that the waffle had butter in every square hole before eating -it would feel wrong if it didn't have butter-, and Maddie ate hers with a little bit of butter. You ate in comfortable silence with each other. The air didn't feel thick, or like it was forced. It was a pleasant morning, and not much could be heard of the outside over everybody eating their breakfast.

There was knocking on the door, a polite knock like someone who knew that he was welcome, but still knocked anyway. It was Wade, as he liked to carpool with Tom while driving down into the town together. Tom gave a kiss to Maddie on the cheek and went out to the front door. You waved at Wade -it felt to uncomfortable to not be wearing the right clothes to greet someone further than a wave-, and yelled out a "Bye!" to Tom before he closed the door. 

"So what are you planning on doing today?" Maddie queried to you before taking a sip from her glass of water. "W- well, I was planning on going d- down to the library later today when I walk Ozzy, a- and maybe watching a movie or something." You said, still a little bit anxious about being in the wrong clothes to see people. "That sounds good to me, You feeling okay?" You felt a little off, like something big was going to happen, but that could be that you were going to school soon. "I f- feel okay. Just a little anxious cause' I was in the wrong clothes." 

She looked up at you in pitying eyes. Both her and Tom didn't know how to help when these things happened, and you didn't know how help yourself, so it was hard to know what to do for everybody. "Aw, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you going to be okay for now though?" You sat down the fork with the second to last bite on your plate, and replied,  "I think so, I don't want to bother you or anything. I'll be fine." She looked away and towards her plate, which was now empty. "Okay, if you say so." 

She got up and picked both plates up and took them over to the sink, where she asked you to wash the dishes while they were gone. "I'm going to go to work now, Have a nice day." You hugged her, and said "Have a nice day." She left, leaving you alone in the house with Ozzy.

You checked the time, 6:34. You could probably watch a few episodes before Ozzy needed to go pee, or you could get started on the dishes. You chose to get started on the dishes, that way you had free time for the rest of the day, and could watch without guilt. You then got changed into the correct clothes ,at around 7:12 you finished, which was good timing, because then Ozzy needed to go. You took Ozzy out for walk, and stopped by the library when you walked into town. You leashed Ozzy to the nearby bike rack, and walked into the library.

One of your favorite smells, the smell of old books and dust quickly assaulted your nose. The teen at the front desk looked up from her book and waved to you, the button that said He / She on his shirt reflected into your eyes for a moment as he waved. "Hey, came here to talk?" You walked over, and shook your head. "No, I'm here for a few books, Ozzy is waiting outside for me." He clicked her tongue, "Aww. You know I miss you, right?" You chuckled, "Of course, I'm awesome, Why wouldn't you miss me?" She rolled his eyes, "Whatever, what you checkin' out this time?" "I don't know, any updates on the series?" He shook her head. "No, unfortunately." You sighed, "What a shame, well I gotta go find the books and get going soon  or someone may steal Ozzy." "Alright."

You roamed around the library, checking out a few books that caught your eye, albeit you knew you probably wouldn't finish them in time. You checked out quickly, and unleashed Ozzy from the bike rack when you walked out of the library. In the corner of your eye you could see a duck with a bagel in it's mouth. Weird. You walked around a little bit, but you decided to go back to the house at around 9:23.

You and Ozzy walked up the gravel pathway to the house, a couple books in one hand, his leash in the other. You opened the front door and saw a flash of blue momentarily. You blinked a couple times but didn't see anything. Well, if there was something, you were sure that Ozzy would have barked or something of the sort. You unleashed Ozzy and he jumped onto the couch to lie down. 

You set the books down in your room, and you stared at them deciding which to read first. You decided to go for the one on the top, because it was the book that wasn't part of a series -or at least, you hoped wasn't- and finished reading both books at around lunchtime. You walked down the stairs and made yourself a sandwich along with some chips. 

You plopped down on the couch pretty hard by accident which woke Ozzy up, so you scratched his head in apology. You then, washed your hands again because you didn't want dog fur getting in your mouth. You turned on the television to Yes Man and ate your lunch. 

As you watched, you started to notice something in the window via the reflection of the television. You started staring intently, as it was some weird looking thing that was blue. What if that was the thing I saw earlier? You turned around to face it and momentarily caught some weird looking hedgehog thing. Ozzy got spooked when you got up quickly, suspicious of what was going on.

You ran outside with Ozzy in tail behind you, and could see the thing run away. You ran after it saying, "I SAW YOU!"  "NO! YOU DIDN'T!" You stopped running, out of breath from doing mostly nothing but sitting down all summer at the computer. Ozzy stuck by you, waiting for his owner to catch their breath. You decided to ask Tom or Maddie about what happened, depending on who came home first.

You waited for your nerves to calm down before trying to do anything, and decided that watching TubeYou was a good idea to get calmer. You got distracted by the talk of "Why Yandere's are bad and You shouldn't romanticize it ..." You fell down a rabbit hole of yandere content, which caused you to lose sense of time. Soon, you heard Maddie yelling about an envelope.

"Whoo! San Francisco police department wrote back!" You clambered down the stairs, wanting to know more. Maddie turned to you, "It's a small envelope, which means it's good, right? Or is that just college letters?" You smiled, infected by her happiness, "I think it applies to both?" She slapped the letter down on the kitchen island, and the announced to you: "I will go grab some cakes, tell him to wait if he gets back before me." 

She shut the door as she left, leaving you alone for a second time in the day. You walked over to the letter, interested. You looked it over, it seemed like this could change your life, was that the weird vibe I have been feeling all day? Did some part of me know that this letter would arrive today?

You mentally shrugged and sat back down on the couch, unpausing where you left off. Soon, you could hear Maddie getting back to the house. You ran outside to help her, where she gratefully handed you one of the cakes to carry inside. You put the cakes in the cabinet inside the kitchen island -so it would be a surprise for Tom- and Maddie got onto her laptop to pull up apartments in San Francisco.

You decided to ask her about the hedgehog thing that you saw earlier. "Hey, Maddie?" She hummed what sound like a yes, so you kept going. "H- Have you seen anything weird lately?" She titled her head to think about it. "No, I don't think so, Have you?" You started to fidget with your fingers, "W- Well, I saw this thing in the window, a-and it kind of looked like a h-hedgehog?" She turned to look at you better, "Hmm. I wonder what it was then, do you remember more about it?" "It was blue, and a little anthropomorphic, like it was kind of human looking, but it had too big of eyes, and hedgehog spikes in the back of the head." She tapped her lip in curiosity, "Maybe it was aliens?" She wanted to give you an answer, but that was the best she could do. "M -Maybe, it was." You joked, it hardly calmed you to know that she didn't know what it could be. "Let's ask Tom about it." She agreed, and went back to looking for places to stay.

You went and sat back down at the couch with Ozzy laying beside you, you mindlessly pet his head while reading fanfiction. After a few hours, and around ~6:21, Tom pulled into the driveway. The gravel was crunchy underneath the tires, and he could be heard yelling at the racoons. Ozzy jumped up from the couch to greet Tom at the front door. "Leave them alone, Tom. They're not doing anything." Maddie scolded him. Tom, feels differently about the racoons. "They are eating from our trash, you have nothing to say about that?" Maddie put her hands to her hips, "They have to, Tom." He held his hand up as if he was swearing, "I promise I will be nicer to the racoons, Okay?" She pursed her lips, "Okay."

She then showed him the letter that arrived earlier, "Open it Tom, We've been dying all day to know!" You closed down what you were reading, and greeted him with a hug. "Yeah, Open it." "It's small, is that bad?" Make a that's what she said joke. "No, I don't think so, Tom, think about college admission letters." You said to calm his worries.

He stood at the kitchen island -you all had moved to be more comfy-, and opened it. You drifted a little bit thinking of San Francisco, but you quickly stopped. "...Pending background check" You cheered along with Maddie who said: "You got the job, Baby!" And she flipped open the cake box to reveal a cake that had the Golden Gate Bridge on fire with the words "Forget those losers, San Francisco sucks!" "San Francisco sucks?" You giggled a little bit, which earned you a dirty look from Maddie. 

"Oops, Sorry." She brought out the other cake which said "I never had a doubt" and featured Tom as a San Francisco police officer. Tom gave her a little smirk, "Never had a doubt, huh?" She smiled back, "Nope, never had a doubt that you would be taken by the police department." Tom sat down at the table. "Pending background check." He pointed to her in defense. As she sat down, she said "Oh no, I hope they don't find out about the time you used the neighbors Wi-Fi." She said in mock concern, amused that Tom thinks that he won't be taken in. "Correction, Still using the neighbors Wi-Fi." You piped up, "Correction, We're still using the neighbors Wi-Fi." 

"Ah, that makes more sense now." Maddie said. A moment of silence happened, which caused you to think that you killed the mood, and then Tom announced "Well, this is cause for celebration. Olive Garden and Hot Fuzz?" You voiced your agreement, to the choices, and got your favorite food and drink from Olive Garden.  You watched Hot Fuzz and other action movies well into the night, enjoying yourselves and life.

Then, Maddie dropped the ball that she had to catch a plane ride to San Francisco in the morning, so she wouldn't be there when you woke up. You looked at her in shock, "What? Where will you stay?" She replied, "I'll stay at Rachel's with Jojo and her." Tom also looked a little surprised, but not by much, as he slightly expected this from Maddie. "Okay, what time do I need to drive you there?" "3 o' clock." You sat up in alarm, "O- oh, It's like 1 in the morning, you need to get packing Maddie." You got up quickly and started pacing from an overwhelming sense of dread. "You're right, and you need to go to sleep, do you want us to wake you up when I leave?" Tom stated and asked, "N- No, I'll see you again, it's not like we're going to be apart for a long time, unless you want me to hug you bye?" She laughed slightly, "No, sweetie, it's okay. You're right, we'll see each other again, so you should catch up on your sleep."

You hugged her before saying "Good Night." and heading to your room. You looked at the ceiling, anxious for what's to come of your life. You couldn't sleep with all of your intrusive and anxious thoughts, so you settled for tossing and turning all night. Eventually, however, you felt your eyes burn from exhaustion and you closed your eyes.

A flash of blue appeared, and there was a power outage, which you knew cause your nightlight turned off, Tom quickly ran in and assured you it was probably nothing and he was going to take care of it.

You closed your eyes again.

The 

        Last

                Thing

                        You

                                Saw

                                        Was 

                                                Vermillion.

[onlyrains]

[3:35pm]

— t/w: none

dating the leader of oya kou is somehow unique. the weekly fights makes you can barely see your boyfriend's face perfectly without any bruises. even though he never got a serious injury, you have warned him a week ago to not involved in any fights to look proper today.

you have a wedding invitation from your high school friend and of course you want your boyfriend, murayama, to accompany you, and he has been busy since morning to pick out the best suit he has.

"is it look good, babe?" he asks after he tried on the outfit you bought him yesterday.

you nod in response as you smile widely. "you look great." your eyes are sparkling but he's still stare at himself in the mirror with a critical look.

"are you sure?"

"that was the tenth time you ask that." you scoff. his shoulders dropped and he turn to face you, "what about i drop you off and wait for you outside?"

"are you my driver or what?" you started to get annoyed.

"you can call me whatever you want, babe, trust me."

"no, you trust me. i said you look great and indeed you are. how can you being like this but confidently leading oya in fights?"

he come to your side and hug your arm. "it's more frightening, actually." he whine. “it's not something i am good at, babe.”

you take a deep breath and starting your drama. "how can i take you to my family then? you don't even want to show up among my friend."

"EEEEHH?!"

he stand up straight and look into your soul. "what do you mean?" he asks still in high pitch voice.

you try your best to hold back your laugh. "of course i will take you to meet my parents someday. you don't think of that?" you ask. “you can take this as your practice round tho.” you continue.

his face is a pure shock. he even forgot how to blink and breathe properly.

you sigh as you look at your shoes. "okay, then, if you don't want to come. but promise me you are not going to be sulky when got i home, okay?”

a glimpse of your ex that suddenly showed up in front of your house last week made him clench his fist. actually, the person who got married today is not just your high school friend, he was also your boyfriend back then.

“okay, i'll come.” he determined.

you giggle a bit. “you still get jealous, huh? he only delivered his wedding invitation, you know.”

“of course i am! he's still look at you that way!” he blurts.

“what kind of way?” you tease him.

“don't tryna play with me.” he sulk. you chuckle, “okay, now breathe.” you suggest while put your hands on his shoulders.

“ARGHHHH.” he grumbled after failed to take a deep breath and stand properly. “you look so beautiful and i still feel like a garbage in this suits.” he grunts.

you laugh and cupped his face with your hands before give a peck on his lips. “you look great like no one else and it's going to be fine, okay?” you rub his cheeks with your thumb.

he pull your midi dress to hug your waist and kiss your neck. “don't leave my side, okay?”

you smile as you inhale his cologne. “okay, big boy.”

[uchihagods]

THE SUIT, U. OBITO/FEMALE READER. | MODERN AU, FANFICTION.

warnings: obito’s a business man, teasing, praise kink, unprotected sex, obito’s in love with his so, as always, breeding kink, duh, he’s an uchiha after all, switch!obito/reader, oral sex, m!receiving, fingering, kinda face-fucking, breasts appreciation, overstimulation, i think that’s all, heavy smut in general.

wc: 3.1k

character/s: obito uchiha n.n; featuring: the uchihas, especially madara.

beta’d by: @obitosryuu <33

—,,

IMPORTANT!… please, feel free to ignore if any of these topics trigger you; read at your own risk!

“SO, what do you think?”

At the sound of your husband’s voice, you averted your gaze from the screen of your phone just to almost choke on your own saliva at the sight of the now changed Obito.

The dark-haired man was standing next to the door of your shared living room dressed all elegant with the outfit he only wore for specific and special occasions like the one he had tonight, in a couple of hours if you’re not mistaken.

Every once in a while the Uchiha family, or rather those members who were involved in the family business, reunited in expensive restaurants or in their own offices to discuss whatever they discussed there. Since you weren’t part of the business, you were completely unaware of what they talked about.

The only thing you knew for sure was that Obito always came back late from those meetings, normally in a bad mood or stressed and willing to fuck the shit out of you for hours until your pussy couldn’t hold any more of his seed.

Your cheeks began to redden when certain images of the endless nights full of lust popped up in your mind… How your beautiful, sweet and caring husband transformed into a dirty, degrading and harsh man.

You shook your head to focus on what was important now, which was how fucking hot the Uchiha looked in that new suit you bought him yesterday.

It was a pretty common suit, though.

Since Obito tended to wear black when it came to elegant events, you decided to change this habit a bit by choosing the dark-gray suit that caught your eye some time ago along with the turtleneck shirt you fell in love with that same day.

And boy, you did make a good choice. A splendid one, actually.

The way the fabric hugged the muscles of his arms spoke for itself, and don’t get me started on the way his tie was loosened thanks to his open-collared dress shirt, allowing the curious eyes to contemplate a piece of the black turtleneck beneath it.

“Makes you look taller, that’s for sure…” You confessed after some thought, biting your lower lip slightly. “I just knew this color would suit you.”

“Isn’t it too tight, though?” Obito wondered, completely oblivious of your hungry gaze.

“It squeezes you in the right places.” Your eyes were locked in his softened crotch while saying this, not even trying to hide how turned on you were already.

“Uhm, you’re… Are you staring at my dick?” You hummed, resting your chin on your palm. “Oh, uh… W-Why?”

“Why not?”

You took advantage of his speechlessness to stand up from the couch and go right in front of him with a seductive expression written all over your face, your hands reunited behind your lower back as your lips got closer to his own to murmur: —“I wanna suck you off so badly, baby… Would you let me do that for you, hm?”

Obito’s mouth parted in surprise at the sudden words that had reached his ears, eyebrows raised and his whole body tensed. “I-I have a meeting in an hour, we c-can’t…”

“All I need is thirty minutes.” You stated convincingly, your hand making its way to his hard on to caress it through his pants, earning a low grunt from your husband and a slight buck of his hips searching for more. “See? You want it too.”

“Fucking…” He panted the moment your fingers enclosed his heavy bulge as much as the clothes let you. Well, he couldn’t leave the house with a boner, could he? “Fuck, just quit it with the touches already so I can take this damn suit off.”

“No!” You stopped your ministrations at his stupid last statement but without removing your hand entirely. “Don’t you dare, Obito Uchiha.”

“You’re gonna make a mess, and while you’ll have time to shower after we’re done, I certainly won’t. God, I shouldn’t even give in to this.”

“Yet here you are, craving my touch.” You teased him by tracing his awaiting cock with the tip of your index finger, looking up at him through your eyelids. “The pretty suit stays.” You commanded once your mouth reached his ear with the help of your tiptoed feet to (barely) match his height.

“Hmph,”

“Good boy.” Your hands were skillful to unfasten his belt quickly, you dropped the piece out of your way as your knees met with the floor to pull down his pants and find his black boxers molded to the outline of his hard member. “Such a view…”

Your face instinctively moved closer to his crotch, you stuck out your tongue to slowly lick his still clothed shaft. When you reached the bulbous tip, you pressed your muscle there for a couple of seconds ‘till Obito’s moans became louder.

“Honey, p-please.”

“Please what?” Your voice came out muffled by the fabric against your mouth, you were trying to surround the shape of his cock between your puffy lips to frustrate him even more.

“Hmgh,” he grunted. “I know what you’re attempting to do.” One of his hands went to grip your hair to keep you there while his hips swayed from side to side to relieve the pulsating ache your actions caused.

“Then, why don’t you ask nicely what you want?”

“We don’t have the time for this, Y/N.” You could tell by his tone that he was getting annoyed, but that only encouraged you to trace a wet path along his covered length.

“Precisely.” You emphasized when you concluded with a long kiss to his mouth-watering hidden tip.

“You little b-… Fine.” Obito let out a defeated sigh, accepting your unspoken wish to be the dominant one today. “Could you-…? Hm, put to work those pretty lips of yours on my bare cock…?” You shook your head no, that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “Could you, please, suck me off without so many clothes in the way?”

“That’s better.”

You finally took the waistband between your fingers to get rid of his boxers, you pulled down the fabric until it reached his ankles to rest along with his pants, making Obito hiss the moment his dick sprung free and was surrounded with the fresh air in the room.

“Someone’s eager here, hm…” You couldn’t help but to stare at his marvelous, huge member; especially his glistening head, which made you want nothing more than to have him inside your mouth.

Nevertheless, you still had a role to play and that’s why you weren’t touching his now bare cock. You didn’t miss the way Obito’s face wrinkled in pain as his fist tightened on your hair, his hips were acting on their own when they thrusted forward in an attempt to feel your pretty lips on him.

“Baby, please… Not this again.”

Not even you could handle your teasing anymore, “Do you prefer my h-…?”

“Mouth. Always. Your mouth, always.” He stumbled over his words, desperate at this point.

Your hands found their way onto his thighs, and your mouth wasn’t entirely open the moment Obito decided to fill it with his impatient cock once and for all, resulting in him moaning in relief and in you gagging on his shaft.

Backing off a little, keeping only his tip between your lips, you looked up at him through your forming tears as your tongue went to work circling around the bulbous head, fingers now surrounding the base to make it easier.

Encouraged by his fast breathing you traced your way down his length leaving small kisses just to go back up with a long and slow lick to the underside of his dick following the bulging vein there to, at the end, take him completely into your mouth ‘till the tip hit the back of your throat, hand moving downwards to massage his full balls.

“O-Oh, fuuuck! That’s it, honey.” Your husband whimpered as his head fell back on the wooden door behind his tensed figure.

Under normal situations, he would’ve taken advantage of his grip on your hair to guide your movements in order to find a satisfying rhythm, but something told him that he should let you decide what to do next.

Starting to bob your head up and down with the assistance of your skilled tongue, you continued with the ministrations to his balls at the same time in order to double his pleasure, you raised your gaze to meet his just to find his eyes shut in concentration and his lips pressed together as to not make so much noise even though you couldn’t be heard by anyone outside your flat.

A particular hard suck to his aching member had him seeing stars through his closed eyelids, chasing with his hips inside your mouth to feel that indescribable sensation again, using his grip on you to reach the back of your throat and keep you there for a couple of seconds more.

“U-Use your tongue, pretty.” Obito asked between moans, watching your nose squeezing against his skin due to how deep in your mouth he was. It didn’t matter how many times you’d given him head throughout the years, you always ended up choking on his huge, long length every single one of them.

You did as you were told, managing to give him pleasure slipping your tongue along his heavy cock and occasionally reaching the point where his balls and base met to stimulate him there as well.

Obito let you go with a loud growl when he sensed your pats on his thighs, informing him you couldn’t take him that deep any longer. You pushed away rapidly, coughing in the process, while holding his coated member in your hand.

“S-Sorry,” your voice was somewhat broken, puffy eyes and swollen lips were also hints of what you were doing. “You’re just too big…”

“You did it well, so good for me.” He praised you lovingly, leaning down a little to caress your reddened cheek with his fingers. “You made me feel amazing, honey.”

“But you didn’t cum…” You cried, stroking his still hard dick to prove your point.

“Because I didn’t want to, baby.” The dark-haired explained as he helped you stand up from the floor, taking a mental note to buy you some cream for your bruised knees. “Y’know I prefer to fill your perfect pussy full of my cum, don’t you?” He whispered hotly against your ear, hands gripping your hips to maintain your balance, yours resting atop his dressed forearms.

“W-What about your meeting?” You wondered, looking for the clock to check the hour. “You’re late!”

“I can’t leave my wife alone while she’s feeling insecure about something that’s not true, can I?” You tilted your head to the side. “Plus, I’m already late. It wouldn’t make any difference arriving a bit more late, Madara’s going to kill me anyway.”

“Idiot,” you giggled.

“If being an idiot is what it takes to be by your side fucking you against this door, then I’ll beg whoever’s up there to stay an idiot for the rest of my life.” Your husband exclaimed between small kisses to your temple, using his feet to get rid of his shoes, pants and boxers so they don’t get in the way when he performs what he was meticulously planning in his mind.

“Oh, God.” You hid your embarrassed expression on his wide chest. “I forgot how poetic you become when you’re turned on…”

“Mhm… Would you let me, then?” His mouth was over your neck now, sucking the skin there and hoping it would leave a mark.

“Being an idiot for the rest of your life?” You smiled sheltered in the warmth of his chest, moaning softly the moment his hips bucked forward and his bare tip touched your clothed clit. “O-Obito…”

“I meant the part where I fuck you stupid against the door.” He pulled you closer by your hips, his hard length resting on your abdomen. “You must be tired from such a great job you did for me earlier, now let me take care of you.”

“Sounds good.” You whimpered, moving your lower half in search of friction. Obito’s finger went to your chin and lifted your head up to start a soon-heated make out, your hand slipped downwards to stroke his dick without separating it too much from your aching center. “A-Aahh, ‘need you inside me.”

“I know, baby.” He said quietly, surrounding your bruised neck with his hand while the other worked on the button of your shorts. “I’m on it.”

“I love your cock s’much, ‘can’t wait to have it stretching my walls…” You squeezed his shaft, provoking him, as you started another languid and loud kiss.

Your shorts made their way down your legs and you tossed them away somewhere in the room with the help of your feet. Obito didn’t waste any more time so he just raised you up by your thighs and pressed your back against the damn door without a word.

The dark-haired asked you to hold tight on his shoulders while he managed to move your panties to the side and enter your wet hole from his spot. “Baby, f-fuuuck! What a perfect hole you have.” He moaned once his cock shoved into your pussy, making you imitate him as your head fell on his neck along with your arms to support yourself.

Gripping your ass firmly, Obito started thrusting into you very slowly at first, getting used to the unusual position and trying to figure out the best way to pound into you without making you uncomfortable; but he guessed he was doing just well if the sounds coming out of your mouth were anything to go by.

“Right there, Obi. Right fucking there.” You grasped his hair forcefully, forehead pressing against his to be able to look at his beautiful eyes through your own teary ones.

“You’re so tight, always.” He cried as his fingers dug into the skin of your butt to quicken his pace, creating new slapping and squelching sounds that filled the entire living room. “Get your tits out for me, pretty.”

Every hard thrust went straight to your abused cervix, soft walls clenching around his throbbing cock, and thus turning you into a crying mess. Obito held you better, hoping you’d fulfill his request soon, and you leaned on one arm while your other hand lowered your top enough for your breasts to be pushed up by the collar of it, offering your husband the sight of your mounds pressed together inside your laced bra.

Obito let out a groan at your perfection. “I doubt you have any idea how much I love your boobs, not even a small hint of it.” He punctuated entering and exiting your hungry, wet hole.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Your whole body was bouncing, your tits along with it, which was exactly what the dark-haired was looking for. “-‘Gonna cum, baby.”

“That’s it, honey.” He panted, hips moving faster than before. “Let your juices coat my cock so I can breed your pretty cunt.”

“Shit, Obi.” You complained as you released on his heavy shaft with trembling legs and eyes squinted, your insides closing vigorously around him. You searched for his lips to initiate a sweet kiss. “Your turn.”

“Already there.” Obito tightened his grip, hiding his face on your neck to nip at it just to trace his way downwards with a long lick to then suck on the soft skin of your mounds. “A-Ah! Fucking…”

The moment his dick twitched, indicating he was about to fill you full of his seed, you pulled his hair and kissed him open-mouthed ‘till the first drops painted your overstimulated walls, resulting in you both moaning in the middle of your messy make-out.

“So much…” You chuckled, referring to the amount of cum he was releasing inside you. “I love you, baby.”

“Your fault,” he still was thrusting into you while he finished cumming but very slowly compared to the pace he was going minutes ago. “And I love you too.”

“You can put me down now, y’know?” You informed him, “You must be tired from all the effort you made to make me feel good.”

Obito did as you told, leaving you gently on the floor again, and once you were supporting your full weight with your legs, you regretted your decision. Your husband must’ve noticed your problem since he was giving you a proud look, “Sore, aren’t we?”

“Oh, shut up!” You scolded him jokingly, raising your arms to encircle his neck and pull him into a kiss, tongue asking for permission to enter his wet cavern to start a not-that-coordinated dance with his own.

He grabbed your bare hips forcefully, playing with the fabric that hugged them and noticing they matched your bra. “You haven’t had enough? We’re all sweaty and sticky, especially me.”

“Hhm, I should be asking that to you…” You felt one of his fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties to slip them down, you tossed them away with your feet.

“Turn around for me.” The dark-haired bit your lips before trailing kisses along the length of your neck to finish with a suck on your collarbone.

You turned around, using your forearm as a support for your sweaty forehead. Behind you, Obito knelt down to spread your asscheeks and watch your little hole struggle to keep his release inside, he collected the semen slipping down your thighs just to put it back with a hard thrust of his fingers.

“Mhm! O-Obito, baby.” You jumped slightly the moment he moved them in a hooking manner, taking more wet sounds out of your pussy. “So good, fuck!”

“You think you can cum for me one more time, my love?” He asked against your ear even though he knew the answer, quickening his movements and enjoying the sight of the mixed fluids dripping into his palm.

“A-Ah, Faster! Fas-!” You were interrupted by Obito’s ringtone, making you gasp in surprise and realization.

“Ignore it, ‘should stop soon. W-What are you doing?” He frowned when he didn’t feel your warmth surrounding his fingers anymore, watching you walk towards his phone with your panties on. “When…?”

“Be a responsible man and answer the phone, Obito.” You handed him the vibrating device, a determined expression over your face.

“I don’t really want to hear Madara’s rage towards me, y’know…?” Your husband scoffed, searching for his boxers and attempting to put them on under your critical gaze.

“Now.” You raised your eyebrows like you always did when you were serious about something.

“Not happening.” Obito refused, insecure.

“A week without sex.” You started, shaking the phone in your hand.

“Wait, what?”

“That’s two.”

“Not fair!” He complained.

“Wanna make it three?”

“Oh, c’mon! Give me that!”

—

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ©UCHIHAGODS - DO NOT REPOST, ADAPT OR TRANSLATE MY WORKS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

[emjiroki]

Hi! God I’ve missed interacting w/ you!

What do you think about 6. “I wanna take you so fucking bad.” with Enji? (If you’d like to indulge ♥️)

I just KNOW he’d be feral as fuck

Hi lovely!!! I've missed interacting with you too! Feel free to pop in anytime!

I had a visceral reaction to this prompt honestly I need him in my guts yesterday

6. "I wanna take you so bad"

"You forgot your lunch again" you said upon entering his office at the agency. Enji rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"Of course. I knew I was leaving something this morning"

"Well you were kinda in a rush" you said with a sly smile, remembering exactly why he had almost been late. Waking up with your lips around his cock sure was distracting from his usual routine. The smirk on his strong face had butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you set his bag on his desk, crossing around to his extended arms to be pulled in against his chest to perch on his thigh.

"Wearing one of the new dresses I bought for you huh?" He said, running his hand up your thigh under the soft material of the sundress.

"The weather's nice and I wanted to look pretty for you" you smiled, laying a delicate hand against his chest and pressing a kiss to his throat. He angled your head for access to your lips, a soft groan spilling out when your breath hitched and you tensed against him with shiver. You really could never get enough of him.

"You're always pretty for me, too pretty" Enji murmured against your lips moving to run his nose against the soft spot below your ear, "I wanna take you so bad".

"Aren't you busy, Endeavor?" You said, letting his hero name roll of your tongue as you felt him get hard against you. He lifted you up to sit at the edge of his desk, rucking your dress up until your panties were visible.

"Never too busy for you my love".

FUCK I shall explode I want him I need him

[mattslolita]

okayyyy so update, again!

my bf bought me pink tulips (fav flower everrr) and a cute pink vase to put them in yesterday. and we went to the beach yesterday and i got good pics 😎 taken by him obviously. i told him he should be a photographer an he went "right then! wheres my paycheck huh??" i wore a pink maxi dress an he kept saying how pink looked nice on me and i looked really pretty then we watched the sunset and spoke for like 2 hours it was so fun.

when we got home he was laying on his bed and i went next to him and then he pulled me to lay on him and said that he loves me alot and hes so happy we got close again (im gonna cry wtf) 🤭

then i reposted some tiktok of this woman saying that she got married at 18 and shes really happy and stuff and my friend saw it and msgd me saying "r u tryna tell me ur like gonna get married in a couple years and be all happy and shit whilst im sat here having to witness this?" i replied w "CORRECT! 3 POINTS 👍"

also 2 days ago his ex msgd me on insta on some fake account w no followers. like girl at least make it abitttt more believable!! an she was like "hey babe are you dating *hisname* x" and i went "yeah, why? x" "and who are you?? " and she said "oh, well just wanted to let u know hes a lier and he cant be trusted"

soon as i saw that i went gtfo w this bullshit cuz it was so obvious it was her 😭 plus i msgd her sister who i used to be friends w but we dont talk as much and she said she was anoyed that he was w me now and that she was jealous and looking for problems. she litro told me that she told her she was gonna make the fake account! IMMATUREEE STAY MAD BITCH! i will find out anything dont even try w the fake account shit cuz i PROMISE u ik everythinggg!!! like let me live go find some man who will put up w ur shit 🤗😙

AWWWW YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTIE PIE STOPPP

not that girl w the fake account like do better babe.... bro did NAWTTTT eat

hope ur doing well love🤍

[moonjxsung]

woah wait hold up i come back after like a day or two and i scroll back reading all the stuff i missed and i see YOU AND 🩵 ANON SPEAKING IN SPANISH woah have i ever mentioned that second languages are really fucking hot woah am i falling in love with both of you or am i falling in love with both of you WOAH HOLY SHIT SECOND LANGUAGES ARE SO FINE 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

im kr but ive been living in the u.s. almost my whole life (ever since like very early elementary school) but korean is still the language i use at home + with my family and english was my second language so whenever i switch between the two it doesnt feel like anything to me BUT WHEN SOMEONE ELSE SWITCHES LANGUAGES OH MAH LAWD 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ 🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️ holy moly its actually so fucking hot idk how else to describe it RAHH

anyways um updates on my life !! i recently went out to hang out w friends and watch a movie and go shopping and it ended up raining a little bit but it was still okay we ended up watching a horror movie and i cried 18 minutes into it because im shit easily scared for some reason while my friends were laughing their asses off saying the scene was funny like NO ITS NOT STOP LAUGHING !!!!!

we also went to a kpop store and i was heavily deciding whether i should get the super bowl album but i ended up not getting it because it was 42 bucks for type b at the store and i found a cheaper price online 😋😋 i did end up getting this really cute dress and a corset with it though so im pretty happy about that otherwise

WBU STAR hows life treating you pookie 😔😔😔

~《☘️》

HELLO MY ANGEL HOW ARE YOU !!

Also YES I am half Mexican so I know Spanish very well (I really don’t speak it well at all but I can fully read & write it) I DIDNT KNOW THAT WAS CONSIDERED ATTRACTIVE TO PEOPLE PLELWKDODKSKSKKEDN 🩵 anon are you hearing this la gente piensa que somos atractivos por ser bilingües ‼️‼️ ALSO THAT IS SO COOL THAT YOU SPEAK KOREAN?????? Maybe I understand your knack for switching between languages being attractive THE WAY YOU CAN JUST EFFORTLESSLY FLOW BETWEEN THE TWO IS SO FUCKING COOL HELLO??????? You ate frfr 💯💯

ALSO I FUCKING LOOOOVE HORROR MOVIES OMG HELLO what was the movie…… it did take me a little while to come around to the idea of horror movies but I have seen like 200+ of them (I have a whole list in my notes if anyone wants recs) I LOVE THEM SM

ALSO NOT US MATCHING???? I bought Super Bowl like last week and I pulled Jilix (manifested soooo hard I love this for me) also bought circus and pulled Channie the mannie 🫶‼️‼️ YOUR DRESS SOUNDS SO CUTE TOO IM SO EXCITED FOR U TO WEAR IT FOR SPRING. SLAY

Life is treating me GOOD I went to this little boutique yesterday and found my dream Marge Sherwood purse (it’s a Korean designer brand Felix wears on occasion for those who don’t know !!) and then I bought a second purse bc I have a purse addiction 🤸‍♀️ and I have SO much work to do but I’m chugging coffee and then I’m going to the gym and then I’m going to sit down and write for the evening !! We cheered

ILY POOKIE SOOOO MANY KISSES FOR U MWAHH 💓💞💕💘🩷💖👼

[ohsilverplease]

This weekend my mom had her chorale concert so C and I drove down in the rain and I saw some beloved Family Friends and we ate with my bff's parents (as we always do after these concerts) and it's such a nice tradition. He drove back bc I'm baby and I was too tired to go back to my place so I stayed over on a school night, which I rarely do, and on Monday morning he went to the store and got some seltzer and a single pear to eat with breakfast because he thought I would enjoy it. And I did! And it had snowed a little and the snow is more beautiful at his house.

Yesterday N and I went to the mystery movie, which was, happily and expectedly, The Boys in the Boat. An overall pleasant movie & experience and I enjoyed Callum Turner's blond hair & face. At the end when they are panning over the team I felt like they were just showing the same guy over and over because you spend so little time with most of the characters. There's Guy with Dark Hair and Guy with Blond Hair (main character) and six Guys with Brown Hair, and then slightly smaller smirky Guy with Megaphone Strapped to His Face. Rowing! They were certainly boys and they were in a boat.

Today I led my last virtual coffee break of the year (possibly at all bc I don't know if I'll keep doing it next year but it's such easy money) and we played Bingo and it was a big hit. I've pulled out my big binder of old cds and listened to Widespread Panic (Don't Tell the Band is one of my top 10 songs of all time I think) and Ryan Adams (god he made some great music). I'm doing laundry and ran the dishwasher and will get back to work soon.

I have 3 (three) nights in a row of Fun Club this week, then dinner w/ C's parents and their friends for his mom's birthday, then my mom is coming up and we're going to my cousin's kid's play and then a concert, and I'm exhausted already but it will all be good times.

At goodwill last week I was looking for a sweater for Fun Club's festive sweater decorating party, which I found, but I also found a sequin jacket/topper (white materials with gold beads/sequins) and a very spacey blue/green iridescent dress that I immediately fell in love with. I asked the ladies across the aisle to talk me out of it and they did not. I then bought a ticket to the J Roddy Walston Christmas to the Bone show next week so I'd have someplace to wear it. It's gonna be great!

[atomicpaintercandy]

SMG4 Cyber World

Chapter 2:  The tuna 

—————————————

3rd person pov:

15/04/XX 10:23

 Smg4 surprisedly woke up earlier than usual, he gets up, dressed and get breakfast (bread with butter) and directly went to the “tuna”, on his way he saw a poster about the Supreme Leader that had been tagged by (probably) some teenagers.

He didn’t pay more attention than that and directly went to the area where the “tuna” was.

The old sushi restaurant who was here before was totally destroyed, actually, the whole quarter was destroyed, some people said it’s the gouvernement who burned all the street because someone was disobedient to them, but the band know it was wrong, it’s Bob who burned it when he burned the sushi restaurant.

15/04/XX 11:08

 Smg4 get in the restaurant and went to the cave, when he push the door he found some of his friends talking together.

🩵-Hi Smg4! You came pretty early today.

💙-Hi Tari! Yeah.. I don’t know why I woke up SO early

🩷-11am it’s not what I call “early” 

 The fact that Saiko was talking to 4 with a sarcastic tone means she totally forgot about the discussion of yesterday.

💜-Oh come on Saiko, you know 4 usually wakes up at like, what, 1pm?

💙-Haha keep laughing guys, anyways, where is Boopkins and Bob? They’re usually the first to be here.

🩷-Bwaa, they’re probably fleeing from the police or something likes that.

🩵-Boopkins explained to me the mafia was kinda tense those times, he thinks a conflict between the gouvernement and the mafia that takes care of zone “B” will explode soon.

💜-Am I the only one who doesn’t understand what they mean by “zone”?

🩷-They never revealed it to any of us, and I understand them! I mean.. just imagine what the mafia will do to them if they learn that two of their employees have a friend who work for the police, so I don’t want to imagine what they will do if one day they revealed to us about those “zones”.

💙-Uhf.. I wish I could work with the mafia too.. I’d finally have some adventure in my monotone life.

🩵-I don’t think it’s a good idea to join the mafia NOW, Boopkins also told me that the gouvernement were arresting more people then before they suspect to be in the mafia, even if they don’t have any good proofs.

💜-It seems like they are scared of a rebellion..

🩷-Noooo do you think there’s some people who want to change power? I mean.. good for us! But..

💜-I’m only making supposions, but it’s kinda possible.

 The silent grow, Smg4 decided to broke it.

💙-Hey, what are YOU guys doing here early too? 

🩷-We decided to meet earlier so we can talk about preparing a party for Meggy! You didn’t check your messages… don’t you?

💙-Really? Why you guys doing that? It’s not like she’s going in another country.

🩷-She’s gonna work for the police 4, that’s even worse..

 The guys were silent again and if Boopkins and Bob didn’t arrive at this moment they would probably didn’t talk until the supreme leader resign.

🤎-Hi guys! Sorry for being late.

💙-Bob! Where you guys were?

🐠-We were running away, of the police.

🩷-May I ask you for what reason this time?

🤎-Because Boopkins thought it would be a good idea to use the money for buy sugar for cakes..

🩷-Aaaannnnddd?

🤎-..and that idiot bought cocaine instead of sugar..

🐠-For my defend the two look like the same.

🩷-Aaaannnnddd?

🤎-..and the drug dealer was a policeman in disguise.

🩷-Classic

💜-What did you guys did of the policeman?

🐠-We putted him in the “hole of silence”.

🩵-W..What is the.. “hole of silence”?

💙-That’s an old building which is known because the network doesn’t pass and as no one passes there we don’t hear you screaming.

🩵-Oh.. charming..

🩷-Guys we need to focus about the party for Meggy!

🩵-Yeah you’re right!

🩷-We gonna go by teams of two, Tari and Melony you will make the cake (or buy it), Bob and Boopkins you guys find the dishes, I will call Mario and Luigi to tell them to take the diner and Smg3 and 4 you two will take the decorations, okay?

💙-Do you really cares if we’re okay or not?

🩷-Absolutely not. Now, everyone go buy your things everything have to be ready until tonight!

🤎-Wait, and what are YOU doing?

🩷-I make sure Meggy doesn’t come here until everything’s prepared.

🩵-I sent a message to Melony and she’s okay with it.

🩷-Okay then... GO, GO, GO!!

 Everyone got out of the “tuna” and went in different directions.

———————————————

15/04/XX 11:47

Smg4 and Smg3 went to “Decorpseration” 

(decoration + corpse).

It was the only store who still selling decorations in the whole Sima Ring, so everything was kinda expensive.

💙-70.^ ?!! (.^ = bucks) They think we’re rich or smt??

💜-Yeah that’s the same price then in the Loda Area.

💙-Shall we do a hold-up?

💜-For party decorations?

💙-Yeah.

💜-Fuck yeah.

💙-My apartment is not very far from here, we can go get guns and hoods and come back.

💜-Yeah sounds good.

 They got out of the store and went to 4’s apartment, on they way to it they talk about all and nothing.

💜- …Hey 4?

💙- Hm?

💜- Are you… alright? Like how do you feel about Meggy and all?

💙- I- Y- yeah… I guess…

💜-…You still feel guilty.. right?

💙-How could I’m not? I’m the reason why the world is like this. And now I’m going to be the reason why my friend’s going to die.

 Smg4 lose his cold blood and start to yelled and cried.

💜-4...

💙-All of this is because I became crazy about a stupid video.. all is my fault..

💜-4 I totally understand what you feel but try not to scream in the middle of the street, you don’t want to attract the attention of police officers..

 Smg4 did I quick look around him and saw people looking at him in a strange way.

💜-Looks it’s only 12:02, we can go to your apartment and I can cook us diner.

💙-But.. the party..

💜-It’s for tonight 4, we still have the time don’t worry.

 Smg4 quickly nods and they went to his apartment.

💜-Go sit on your couch I made the diner

 Smg3 opened a drawer and was surprised to see that Smg4’s alimentation was only made of bread when he said he only had bread.

💜-WHAT THE.. YOU ONLY HAVE SPOILED BREAD?!!

💙-Yeah…

💜-You’re such an idiot.. I’m gonna command something.

💙-OH NO YOU DONT. YOU KNOW LIKE ME HOW COMMANDING FOOD BECAME EXPENSIVE.

💜-I don’t care and didn’t ask. So, what you want? I’m kinda into some hot dogs, what about you?

💙-Take the same order as you.

💜-K if you want.

 Smg3 called the restaurant and the manager seems kinda surprised someone command food but whatever. 

10 minutes after they receive their food and ate it. 

            ——————

 During the I.G.B.P arc when Smg4 throw the USB, it fusions with the goo and made a creature half-human, half-technology and it took over the world in only 3 years, 7 years later it’s still in control and is called the “Supreme Leader”

———————————————————————————————

The end of the chap2

Code color:

💙 = Smg4

💜 = Smg3

🩷 = Saiko

🩵 = Tari

🤎 = Bob

🐠 = Boopkins

(Sorry if you’re color blind)

[lostneedcoopcake]

The Stain

TW: Blood and Corpses

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It’s been a month since that odd stain appeared on the walls of my apartment. It is quite high from where I can reach and see well, but from my bed I can tell it looks like a circular, oily stain. Like my wall is the shirt of a careless child. It has gotten quite annoying to look at when I open the lights of my bedroom. The soft, cream color of the walls, interrupted by that green and yellow stain. That stain that is slowly growing. It is quite unnoticeable at first, but if you came to my house when it first appeared and then came back two weeks later, you could tell it was growing. I have been meaning to call someone to get it cleaned, perhaps my landlord, but I have been busy the entire month. Switching jobs, attending speeches, helping my friends out, to name a few. So, I always came back to the stain, tired, laying on my bed with my clothes on and that gloomy, yellow light on. I like to think the stain is keeping me company. It can be quite lonely in the city in a very small apartment. I have been meaning to sneak in a cat, but it would take lots to take care of it.

 I finally had time to call my landlord to remove that thing. It took him quite long to answer, testing my already minuscule patience. Finally, I heard his bored and eager to grab money from me voice. I rolled my eyes and explained to him the situation. After threatening to evict me from his worthless and minuscule apartment, he sighed and agreed on coming the next day to check it out. After closing the phone in his face, I looked at the stain once more. I knew I had to go get the supplies myself. He wouldn’t even bother climbing the stairs had I not laid down all the equipment needed to clean that thing up. So I bought supplies for mold cleaning. It looked like mold. It could be a mucus. I had zero idea. But I got supplies for general cleaning and put them below the stain. I took one last look at it before preparing myself to sleep. It surely had grown from yesterday, quite noticeably too. In its defense, the humidity levels this month had quite increased and mold does grow faster where there is moisture. So, nothing to worry about. I headed to sleep, not worried at all that the old man that I dare call landlord would actually do something; I had to do the cleaning myself.

 That bastard came couple of hours earlier than we had agreed on, I was still making my coffee when I answered the door in my pajamas. He judged me on the fact that I was not dressed like I was going in an office meeting and he was extremely lucky I had a headache and did not have my coffee yet. And, of course, he did not bring any supplies. He told me why did I not clean it myself if I already had the supplies and I mumbled under my breath that it is his house and that he should be the one taking care of it. Somehow, that old moron heard that and, while holding the ladder, started ranting at me and my ungratefulness that I had been given that hole of an apartment for a cheap rent. And that’s when he scratched his finger, some blood falling on the wall. And I smirked. He got what he deserved as he was holding his hand. I sipped my now made coffee and he was silently screaming while holding his hand, glaring at him.

 And of course, he got down the ladder, holding his hand, and forced me to get up and clean it. I groaned, put my coffee on the floor and climbed the ladder, ready to kick him in the face. I took the cleaning supplies and was finally face to face with the stain. You versus cleaning supplies, buddy. I sprayed it and wiped it as hard as I could, but it was not coming off. I noticed how bumpy it was, like acne, and how it had the texture of a plant. I kept spraying and wiping, spraying and wiping, nothing. I took a scalpel to remove it, my finger got scratched by the metal and it went on the wall as I placed it on it to remove the stain. The stain was surprisingly sturdy. I went down the ladder, telling the landlord that we may need a cleaning service for it. And his answer was to pay him “because I wasted his time”! Like you are doing anything else than hanging out in casinos, old man! I told him I will pay him if that thing gets cleaned up and he glared at me for a bit, saying nothing, until he agreed. He stormed out, almost ripping off the door from its hinges. I grabbed my coffee from the ground and locked the door, knowing well I had to call the service. Oh well, it wasn’t the first time.

 When I woke up, I noticed the stain had branched out. I was still in the process of waking up, so I blinked a couple of times, shook my head and looked at the stain again. It had grown lots, like roots of a tree. I noticed the roots had covered the blood stains from the previous day and had grown two more stains there, shaped like the blood. I grabbed the ladder and climbed it to inspect it even further. The new stains had tiny, tiny branches coming out of them, like it was ready to expand even more. I took the scalpel again and started scratching, but they too were as sturdy as the previous one. I morphed my face and got down the ladder to make my cup of coffee. It was much more evident that that thing needed to be taken out. I would call a cleaning service wasn’t for my schedule to be full again. Hole as it may be, the apartment was quite expensive and I had to pay off some other stuff, including my student debt. Still, I got a bit worried by how that stain grew with blood and not moisture. Perhaps it likes the plasma blood has? I am a quite prone to injuries person, so I don’t want that thing expanding when I hit my ankle on the wall.

 As if my day couldn’t get worse, while I was sleeping I heard noises from my window. I quickly got up and slowly peeked from my bedroom, trying to understand where that noise came from. Thieves. What were they going to steal from a graduate that keeps on switching jobs almost every two weeks? But they were taking everything. My lamp, my laptop… I quickly call 911 and whispered at them the situation, when unfortunately one of the thieves noticed me and pointed at me while looking to his partner. I put myself against the wall and grabbed a long lamp that I had in my room, waiting for them to peek in. They were quick to do so, and I struck the first one with the metal stick. Blood from his face and broken teeth splattered on the wall, he stumbling backwards and holding his mouth. The other thief got inside, gun raised. I knelt quite low and struck him at his legs, almost making him lose balance. But he was quick to recover and shot me at my arm, making me drop my weapon and lie against the wall, holding my wound.

  Great, the other guy got up too. And both of them were staring at me from above, their eyes almost glowing as they had their guns pointed at me. I simply groaned through my teeth, staring at them. The kicked my now broken phone away and took some steps closer to them. Dammit, I did not get to talk to the service for long enough! So, until morning, I had decided to fight for my own skin. Wounded, I placed my leg up, faking out that I was getting up. But I just bit the leg of one of the thieves and stepped on the other, making both of them scream. Shots were immediately fired. I ducked and took cover behind my bed, trying to avoid as many bullets as possible. I ripped my charged off of the socket and put it around one of the thieves’ neck. The other one was pointing his gun at me. Sweating. I truly wondered who would come out alive.

The free one pointed at the wall. Like he heard something. I didn’t hear anything. His eyes had started widening more and more as he was taking steps back, hitting the opposite wall. The other one, even though he was chocking, screamed while looking at the wall. And I found the opportunity to push him towards it and hit his head on it, making it bleed. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t see anything else other than the new smear of blood on the wall, the thief I was holding screaming and the other one shooting at me. And I couldn’t hear anything anymore. I started seeing only red. Then yellow. Then an irky green. I could hear muffled screams, calls for help. I could hear myself calling for help. I knew I was just standing in front of the wall, yet I was walking. I was inside the wall. The cries for help did not stop while my thoughts were becoming more and more muffled. Like a fog. Like something was covering my entire existence.

 When I could hear nothing anymore, I decided to pull something from my wounded arm. Like a wire had been attached on it. And I fell down, in the puddle of blood the thieves had left alongside with their lives. I groaned as I slowly got up, holding my arm, my hair showered in the red liquid. God, I had so much cleaning to do. But I had no strength in me left. I struggled to reach my phone, only to realize it was broken. I immediately fell on my bed and looked at the corpses. Both of them were lying dead, but no visible wounds other than the ones I caused. I would have puked wasn’t I a doctor graduate. But corpses had become a daily matter, so I just patched up my wounds and slept through the remaining night, the stench of the bodies not bothering me.

 From a small bedroom in an equally small apartment I woke up to a garden full of yellow – green roots. The stain had expanded in the entirety of the room, it seems. Logical, since it seemed to be feeding on blood. I looked to see the corpses, they weren’t there. Instead, they had been raised up like moldy soldiers, guarding the assortment of circular vines and shapes right across me. If I had any doubts this thing was alive before, they were all gone as I watched the middle glow an open blue. Same for the veined corpses’ eyes, now leaning their heads and looking at me. A vein came out of the mess that birthed it and tried to insert itself in my wounded arm, but I shooed it away and it left like a scared kitten. But that thing? It was not scared. It just waited. For me. And it was correct to wait for me because I did get up and, although I couldn’t walk well, reached the wall. I put my hand on it as the veins started opening as if they were a gate.

 A gate that lead to nowhere. A gate that lead to the void. To the spiraling, ever changing void. A gate that opened to the cold, harsh world we call a universe. A gate that was full of everything. I saw the stars, I saw the lights, the galaxies. I saw it all flash before my eyes before they all imploded. Emptiness again. Nothingness again. And the universe was birthed one more. Not in an explosion, but rather in such a calm and endearing way I could not stop looking at the soft, slowly moving lights expanding more and more. And I saw them creating life. I saw them sustaining life. I saw the ever empty void be full. I saw the darkness that was always dark be dotted with light. But it was still lonely. Everything was too far. Everything was cold. Even the warmest stars, even the brightest moons, they were cold. No matter how warm, no matter how much light the holes gathered, I still saw only white. Still. I got sad when I noticed one far away light disappear into nothingness. It did not matter to the empty void.

 I couldn’t stare longer, even if I wanted to. I stepped away from the gate and it closed. A calming aroma filled the room, much more different than the rot I was expecting. And I was put to sleep. And when I woke up, there was no gate. There were no veins. There were no guards. There was no stain. Almost like nothing had ever happened. I still had my wounds though. I took my phone from the ground and it was working perfectly, like I had just bought it. I called my landlord, telling him that the stain was cleaned. But in truth it had stained my brain. Always dreaming of the void. And the stars. And goddammit are my dreams beautiful now.