#not tagging chars I’m lazy

[fulgurbugs]

Redraw of this post from 2 years ago lol

[smystermy]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬

tags: geto suguru x you; gojo satoru x you; set before the star plasma vessel incident; senpai x kouhai; Meddling with a capital M; Pining with a capital P; can this be called humor?; you might come across as a little too harsh towards both of them here—but honestly, you have every reason to be, especially towards geto.

warnings: Love Triangle. my sincerest apologies to all the satoru lovers out there (trust me, i’m one of you, too).

word count: 1270.

oneshot, loosely related to 'peel your heart like a pomegranate'.

You Should Have Known.

The moment Geto brought it up, you should have known.

He had been too casual—too smooth. His voice light, offhanded. “Hey, we should all go out this weekend. There’s this new ramen shop.”

And then Satoru.

Satoru, who never cared about ramen, who turned his nose up at anything that wasn’t a luxury dessert, suddenly lighting up like a damn Christmas tree.

“Ohhh?” he’d drawled, grinning like he already knew something you didn’t. “Sounds fun.”

That should have been your first clue.

Your second? Haibara, hesitating—hesitating—before mumbling, “Uh, I might be late.”

Your third? Nanami’s flat, deadpan stare when you asked if he was coming. A long, withering look, like you had just told him curses were actually friendly creatures.

And yet, despite all of that—despite all of that—you still walk into the ramen shop, completely, stupidly unaware.

The warmth hits you first.

The scent of simmering broth and charred chashu curls through the air, thick and inviting. There’s a soft hum of conversation, the occasional clatter of chopsticks against ceramic bowls. Lanterns hang low, casting a cozy golden glow over wooden tables. The whole place feels like an easy, familiar embrace—the kind of setting where you should be surrounded by friends, laughter, and the promise of a good meal.

Your eyes scan the room, already picturing it—Geto slouched comfortably in the corner, halfway through his bowl, Shoko sipping lazily at her drink, Nanami suffering in silence as Haibara chatters away.

But they’re not here.

Only one person is.

Gojo Satoru.

Relaxed. Smug. Sprawled out in the booth like he owns the place, one arm stretched lazily over the seat beside him. A glass of something overly sweet sits in front of him, condensation beading along the rim. He stirs it with a lazy flick of his wrist, too slow, like he’s waiting for the grand reveal.

Your stomach drops.

The betrayal settles in your bones, slow and seething.

Satoru's grin spreads the moment he sees you, pleased and lazy, like a cat watching a mouse step right into its trap.

“Oh?” His voice is sweet—too sweet. “Just the two of us? How romantic.”

You stop in your tracks.

The scent of rich broth suddenly feels cloying. The warmth of the shop, suffocating.

“Where,” you ask, voice dangerously calm, “is everyone?”

Satoru tilts his head, stretching out the moment, dragging it along like he’s savoring the slow unraveling of your patience.

“Well… Nanami got buried under paperwork.”

(Of course he did.)

“Haibara had some last-minute errand.”

(Suspicious.)

“Shoko fell asleep—”

(Reasonable, but still suspect.)

Your teeth grind. “And Geto-senpai?”

Satoru takes a long, deliberate sip of his drink. You swear he’s doing it just to annoy you, the straw making an obnoxiously slow slurp.

Finally—finally—he lowers the glass and smirks.

“Oh. Suguru? Yeah, something came up.”

Your hands curl into fists.

This. Was. A. Set-up.

A blatant, premeditated, ruthless set-up.

Your own friends, conspiring against you.

Satoru leans forward, propping his chin on one hand, voice light. “Well, since you’re already here, wanna join me?”

You turn on your heel and walk straight out the door.

“Oi—WAIT, WAIT, DON’T JUST LEAVE.”

You keep walking.

A second later, he’s in front of you, moving so fast it’s infuriating.

“Whoa, whoa, at least let me walk you back—”

“No.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“No.”

“But we could—”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“I don’t care.”

Satoru groans, throwing his head back. “Why are you so mean to me?”

You whip around, pointing an accusing finger. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I got TRICKED into coming here?”

He grins. “But Suguru’s good at playing a matchmaker, don’t you think?”

You glare. “For the last time, I’m not interested in you, Satoru.”

He staggers back like you’ve just stabbed him, one hand over his heart. “Wow. No need to break my heart in public.”

You shove past him, marching back to campus.

“Sweets—”

“Go AWAY, Satoru.”

“You’ll miss me when I’m gone~”

“I WON’T.”

You don’t stop to look back—he isn’t worth the reaction he’s hoping for. Instead, you storm straight toward school, frustration simmering under your skin.

Back at Tokyo Jujutsu High, you find Geto’s room to be way too peaceful.

Not for long.

The door slams open with enough force to shake the frame.

“GETO-SENPAI!”

Your voice cuts through the stillness like a whip, shattering the quiet serenity of his dorm.

And yet, Geto doesn’t even flinch.

No startled jump, no guilty expression—nothing.

Just a slow, lazy lift of his gaze, dark eyes brimming with calm amusement. He’s lounging on the floor, back against his bed, a book resting open in his hands. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, hair loosely tied back, posture completely at ease—like he’s been idly flipping through the pages for hours.

The nerve.

A single warm lamp flickers beside him, casting golden light over the room. Incense lingers in the air—lavender and sandalwood, mellow and grounding. A soft breeze drifts in through the slightly open window, ruffling the sheer curtains.

Everything is too perfect.

The peaceful glow. The relaxed air. His infuriating lack of concern.

Your blood boils.

Geto tilts his head, lips curling into an insufferable smirk.

“Oh?” He sounds far too entertained. Too knowing. “You’re back. How was your little date?”

Your rage explodes. “YOU SET ME UP.” You storm forward, each step sharp, pulse hammering in your ears. “I SWEAR TO THE HEAVENS, I WILL—”

Geto closes his book with an infuriatingly soft snap and rests his chin in his palm, elbow propped on his knee.

“Will what?” His voice is all silk and mischief.

Your eyes dart wildly around the room, desperate for something to throw—and then you see it. A paper fan, sitting neatly on his desk.

Before you can think—before he can stop you—you snatch it up and hurl it straight out the window. A soft flutter follows as it disappears into the night.

Geto watches it go.

Then, he blinks once. Slowly.

“…Was that necessary?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snap, voice shaking slightly, hands curling into fists. “I thought we were playing ‘Ruin Each Other’s Lives’ since you seem to enjoy ruining mine.”

He chuckles, low and rich, completely unbothered. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

You glare. “You ABANDONED me. With SATORU.”

A lazy shrug. “He’s your childhood friend. You act like I threw you to the wolves.”

Your hands slam onto your hips.

“HE IS A WOLF. A VERY LOUD, FLIRTY, INSANELY IRRITATING WOLF.”

Geto leans back, stretching his arms over his head, expression mockingly thoughtful.

“But a charming one, don’t you think?”

Your jaw clenches. He doesn’t get it. He never does. And you can’t tell him why.

Because it isn’t just about Satoru—it’s about him. About how Geto, the only guy you’ve ever felt something real for, thought you belonged with his best friend instead. Like he’d never even considered himself an option. Like he didn’t even see you that way. Like you never even had a chance.

And that—that hurts more than anything.

You inhale sharply, forcing your voice steady. “Promise me you’ll never do this again.”

Geto’s lips twitch. “Hmm. Define ‘promise.’”

That’s it. Your patience snaps. Your gaze locks onto something else—a cigarette lighter.

His favorite cigarette lighter.

For the first time tonight, he reacts. Shoulders tensing, teasing smirk faltering just slightly.

“Hey—WAIT.”

Too late. You snatch it up and hurl it out the window.

Silence.

The night wind drifts in, cool against your skin. Geto exhales—deep, slow, measured.

Then—

“…You’re really on a roll tonight, huh?”

general masterlist || geto suguru masterlist || gojo satoru masterlist

[thatlotuscookie]

hi👋 could i have something with dabi x reader when he's sick and his personality changes drastically. and all he wants is to be in bed, cuddle, make out, sleep and have reader play with his hair

✧･ﾟ: a/n : hi riri!! i appreciate the request, thank youuu<3 this is adorable and honestly so like him. i just wrote something short and soft. let me know if you'd like something longer next time! :<

✧ Title: ✧ Fevered Affection ✧ ✧ Characters: Sick!Dabi x Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: Dabi isn’t one to show weakness, but a nasty fever leaves him vulnerable and in desperate need of comfort. You’re there to care for him, and as his defenses drop, he reveals a softer side that he rarely lets anyone see. ✧ Content/Tags: Sickness, Vulnerability, Light Teasing, Soft Dabi, Sick!Dabi ✧ WC: 805 words // 4.5k chars

Dabi wasn’t one to show weakness. Hell, he hated the idea of relying on anyone for anything. He had built up walls so high and thick that even a hurricane couldn't bring them down. But today, something much simpler than a storm had him practically bedridden—a nasty fever that turned the League’s usually sharp-tongued, brooding arsonist into a lethargic puddle of exhaustion.

You’d noticed it a few days ago. His usual snarky comments were less biting, his responses delayed. You chalked it up to a bad mood, but when you found him barely able to stand and refusing to get up from bed, you knew something was wrong.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled when you tried to help him sit up. His voice was raspy, and the usual fire in his eyes was dimmed. He wasn’t fine.

“No, you’re not,” you said softly, sitting beside him on the bed. “You’re burning up, Dabi.”

He didn't respond—just lay there, blinking slowly as if the world had slowed down with him. It was odd to see him so…vulnerable. But as his fever climbed higher, his usual gruff exterior melted away, leaving behind a Dabi you had never seen before—one that craved affection and comfort.

It started with the smallest of requests.

“Stay,” he mumbled, reaching for your hand with more desperation than you’d ever expect from him. “Just… don’t go anywhere.”

You stayed. And as the day wore on, it became clear he wasn’t interested in anything but being close to you. He barely moved, except to adjust himself so that his head rested in your lap, his face nuzzled into your stomach. His body, usually so stiff and guarded, had relaxed completely into your touch.

“Is this really Dabi?” you teased gently, running your fingers through his messy black hair. “The same guy who acts like he doesn’t need anyone?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, leaning into your hand as you scratched at his scalp. “Feels good…”

The day slipped by in quiet moments—Dabi, wrapped in your arms, letting his fever-ridden body give in to its needs. He was clingy in a way that surprised you, his usual distance replaced by a hunger for comfort. He pulled you down into the bed with him at one point, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he curled his body around yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “Never knew you could feel this good…”

You smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You’re never like this when you’re healthy.”

“Maybe I should get sick more often,” he muttered, his lips brushing your neck in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. He pulled back slightly, his fever-bright eyes locking with yours. “Wanna kiss you…”

You blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded, his hand gently gripping the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a slow, lazy kiss. It wasn’t like the usual kisses with Dabi—this one was sweet, almost needy, like he was asking for something more than just the physical connection. Like he wanted to lose himself in you, just for a moment.

When you pulled away, he sighed contentedly, leaning back into the pillows. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close again, his head resting on your chest this time.

“Don’t leave,” he mumbled, his breath warm against your skin. “Just wanna stay here… forever.”

You chuckled softly, running your fingers through his hair again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s how the rest of the night went—Dabi, sick and vulnerable, wrapped in your arms, content with nothing more than your touch and the quiet comfort of being together. His fever might have stolen his usual fire, but it brought out something softer in him, something you cherished in those quiet, stolen moments.

The next morning

By the time morning rolled around, Dabi’s fever had broken. You woke up to find him still in your arms, but this time his usual sharp gaze was back, though softened slightly by the remnants of last night’s vulnerability.

He stretched lazily, glancing up at you with a smirk. “So… how was playing nurse?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re a terrible patient, you know.”

He chuckled, sitting up and running a hand through his now-messy hair. “Yeah, but you loved it.”

You shoved him playfully, but before you could say anything, Dabi’s hand caught yours, pulling you back down into his lap. His lips brushed against your temple, his voice low and almost… affectionate?

“Thanks for taking care of me, baby.”

Your heart swelled. Maybe being sick had its perks after all.

[zepskies]

And So It Goes - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC (Latina!OC)

Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job — and more importantly her life — or helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca. 

AN: I have the entire week off work, so I'm catching up with my WIPs. 😜

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Angst, violence, more of Soldier Boy’s bad flirting, hurt/comfort, PTSD, explosions…

ASIG Series Masterlist

17: Emotionally Deficient Men

Helena used an old bobby pin in the pocket of her jeans to break free of her restraints. It took her a while, but eventually the metal handcuff clicked open and she hastened to her car.

Butcher, Hughie, and Soldier Boy had maybe half an hour on her, but she could make up some of the time if she didn’t stop, only for gas halfway through the six-hour drive.

Vermont was lovely this time of year. The only sights she could afford to take in was the luxurious mansion owned by the infamous T&T Twins, who were hosting an even more infamous…party.

Oh fuck, not Herogasm, Helena thought, as she pulled up to the side of the road and parked her car. She zipped up her leather jacket against the windchill as she got out and surveyed the huge lot.

She’d heard about Herogasm, but she’d never had the misfortune to go to one of these events; she wasn’t a supe. And she was never more grateful for that as she took in the scene.

The mansion was already on fire. It was a clusterfuck of half-naked supes and working professionals fleeing, screaming, crying as they filtered out across the manicured lawn and back to their cars.

Helena’s eyes widened as she took in the half-demolished house, which looked like it had been blasted right through the front. Soldier Boy.

They must’ve already gotten here before her.

She was cautious in approaching the house, coming in from the back gate by the pool that was swinging open. She made it through the debris in the house with careful steps. It was quieter inside, eerie in a way. She avoided looking down at the bodies and held her breath at the smell of charred flesh.

She turned a corner of the house and stopped short. Her breathing shallowed with a gasp when she came face to face with the one man she’d hoped to never see again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” asked Homelander. He looked almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him, and her eyes widened.

In her mind, his blue eyes flashed like a memory: of a hand around her throat, pinning her to the wall. A lazy, crazed look in his eye as he debated whether he was going to let her breathe again.

“I was…invited,” she lied on the fly. “I’m just a bit late to the party.”

Homelander’s smile was subtle, but telling. He didn’t believe her. He tilted his head and took a booted step forward into her orbit. Helena stepped back out of reflex, but when she turned her head, she realized she had unintentionally stepped into a battlefield.

Soldier Boy stood mere feet away, suited up with his shield in hand. He regarded her with a half-smile in greeting, though his gaze was focused on Homelander.

“Out of the way, sweetheart,” he said. 

She wanted to be annoyed by the nickname, but she tried to oblige him. The last thing she wanted was to be caught between the past and present of dickhead supes.

But a gloved hand grabbed the back of her neck. She gasped, instinctively cringing and glancing back at Homelander. His eyes flicked down to hers.

“Oh, Helena,” he drawled. “Don’t tell me you know this guy.”

“I think we all saw him on the news,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. “I’m surprised it took you this long to catch him.”

“What fucking rock did you crawl out of, I wonder,” he mused out loud. His hand tightened a fraction, making her wince and suck in a breath as she fought to remain still. “But I don’t think it’s a coincidence, do you?”

Panic welled in her lungs, squeezing around her heart like a vice. Her gaze darted to Soldier Boy. It was pure instinct, the plea in her eyes. He saw it, though he said nothing until his attention turned back to Homelander.

“Homelander, I take it.” Soldier Boy eyed the other supe with a quirk of his lips. He gestured to the long red and white cape hanging from Homelander’s shoulders. “Nice candy stripes.”

Homelander tensed, though Helena wasn’t sure if it was because of the other man’s taunt, or because Butcher stepped into the hallway beside Soldier Boy. Butcher’s eyes widened when he saw her, and he hardened when he realized her predicament.

He sharpened on Homelander, who was perceptive enough to catch the brief exchange. His gaze narrowed.

“William Butcher and Soldier Boy,” he remarked. “Of course, you’re behind this. This whole thing… It really is all about me.”

Bile rose up in Helena’s throat. Just the sound of his voice made her sick, but the sheer size of his ego was even worse.

“William, we made a deal,” he continued. “To fight to the death. You, and me.”

Helena’s eyes widened. What kind of fucked deal was this, and when was that bargain struck?

Again, Butcher glanced at her, but he focused on Homelander.

“This is cheating,” said Homelander. His brows pinched with a glare. “Deal’s off.”

He lasered at Butcher with his eyes. Helena screamed as the man went down hard on his stomach. She tried to go to him, but Homelander’s hand tightened on the back of her neck and yanked her back.

She gasped and was forced to look at him through tearful, wide eyes.

“What, are you on their side now? Are you helping them?” His hand moved into her hair and started to squeeze even tighter, making her unconsciously whimper and twist against him. Her nails bit fruitlessly into his hand.

The mania behind his eyes was familiar. It had been featuring in her nightmares. “Be honest, Helena.”

“Figures that you’d hide behind a woman,” Soldier Boy remarked.

It earned Homelander’s attention.

“Excuse me?” he asked. He took a step forward, dragging Helena along with him. Her boots scrambled for purchase over fallen debris.

Homelander had to chuckle a little. “You know, you were my hero growing up. I watched all your movies, hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me.”

Helena bit the inside of her lip. She could tell, just by the look on the other man’s face, that that was the wrong way to endear himself. Soldier Boy’s ego was more than a match for Homelander’s.

“Buddy, you think you look strong?” Soldier Boy said dryly. “You’re wearing a cape.”

Homelander took in an irritated breath.

“You’re just a cheap fucking knock-off,” Soldier Boy added.

It made Homelander seethe. “Oh no, no, no… I’m the upgrade.”

He pushed Helena away from him and launched full speed at Soldier Boy, tackling him into the next room. And she was shoved against the wall hard enough to knock her clean out.

Helena woke to a pounding in her head and a sharper agony in her ribs.

She uttered a pained groan, soon realizing that she was laying on a dingy bed with a ceiling fan turning slowly overhead. She tried to sit up, but that proved to be too much. She fell back with a gasp.

“Hey, hey, don’t get up,” said Hughie. He came into the bedroom with a glass of water and some pills in his hand. He helped her sit up enough against the pillows to take the meds and drink a bit of water. She thanked him, and moved her frizzy hair away from her face to meet his concerned gaze.

“Where the hell are we?” she asked.

“A motel just a couple hours south of Vermont,” he replied.

She nodded. She was still wearing her now dusty gray shirt, jeans, and boots, but her jacket had been draped on the far corner of the bed.

She looked past Hughie to find Butcher standing in the doorway. Hughie noticed as well, and he laid a comforting hand on her arm before he got up.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he said. She nodded, though she could hardly think at the moment.

Butcher shared a brief, but meaningful gaze with the younger man as he left. Then he stepped into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. He let out a sigh and reached for the side of her head, and she winced as his fingers brushed a tender knot there.

“Got your bell rung, didn’t ya?” he said.

It was her turn to sigh.

His eyes took her in; the pain in her face, the way she shifted to try and fail to get comfortable.

“You all right?” he asked. 

All Helena could manage was a jerky nod of her head, even as tears glistened in her eyes. Her hand reached up and shakily touched his chest.

“What about you?”

Butcher quirked a smile. “Had me a little supe cocktail, didn’t I?”

Helena let out a breath of relief. V24 was still untested poison, but it had saved his dumbass. And he’d saved her dumbass in turn…

“Does Homelander know I was the mole at Vought?” she asked.

Butcher’s expression dimmed.

Hours ago…

Butcher got up, shaking off the feeling of a point-blank laser blast with a shrug of his shoulders thanks to the Temp V coursing through his veins. He rubbed the sting out of his chest and shook off the stun of hitting the ground so hard.

Butcher pushed off the ground, and the sounds of the nearby fight between Homelander and Soldier Boy reached him. But he also saw Helena just a few yards away, lying prone on the ground, twisted onto her back.

His eyes widened, and he went to her. He dropped to his knees at her side and brushed her dark hair away from her face with slightly shaking hands. Her eyes were closed, her body unmoving. He cupped her cheek and felt for her pulse at her neck.

The tension in his shoulders eased when he felt her heartbeat thrumming under the pads of his fingers. Fucking hell.

How the fuck had she broken free of those cuffs? And more importantly, why did she insist on putting herself in the line of fucking fire?

Butcher knew the answer, deep down, but he stowed that all away to ease her more comfortably on her back, untwisting her hips and legs. He hated to leave her like this, but he had no choice. He saw that Soldier Boy was having a hard time with Homelander on his own. 

So Butcher jumped into the fray, lasering Homelander from behind. The supe’s face betrayed his confusion, and even his anger in that tick in his brow.

“What have you done?” he asked.

“Scorched earth,” Butcher taunted.

But Homelander glanced passed him, at Helena still lying unconscious in the hall. It made Butcher tense and shift his stance, subtly putting himself in between.

Homelander smirked. “Wait, wait…you and Helena Flores? You have a thing, don’t you?”

His steps forward were somehow both lazy and measured. Butcher’s movements were even more calculated, stepping closer, but still blocking Helena.

“How long has this been going on?” Homelander asked. “Couldn’t have been very long. I mean, how did you even meet? She worked for us…”

Something seemed to don on the supe, and a sinking feeling churned in Butcher’s chest.

“Fuck me,” Homelander chuckled as a realization brightened his eyes. “You had an inside woman at Vought, didn’t you? Feeding information to you and your little rats.”

His grin deepened at the way Butcher’s smugness faded, and his expression became sharp and threatening.

Homelander wasn’t intimidated. Only pleased.

“Now everything makes sense,” he said. “Tell me, how long has she been servicing you?”

Butcher glowered, his eyes flickering with golden light. Homelander’s smirk raised higher.

“I’ll have to ask her about her hourly rate—”

That was the last quip the supe got out, before Butcher lasered him directly in the face. Homelander flew forward and met Butcher blow for blow, until Soldier Boy yanked Homelander down by his cape.

The fight began in earnest, with even Hughie joining in.

Unfortunately, Homelander slipped away at the last minute, leaving Butcher with the bitter aftertaste of an opportunity lost. And even worse, he knew, was the target now firmly painted on Helena’s back.

Now, in the relative safety of a crusty motel, Helena tried to wipe the tears from her face as she took in a breath meant to steady herself. It didn’t work.

Homelander knew the truth, and she was deep in this shit now.

For his part, Butcher buried a hand in her hair and sighed deeply.

“For fuck’s sake. This’s why I bloody told you not to come,” he said.

“You didn’t tell me, you restrained me,” she snapped.

“For all the fucking good it did me,” he said, just as angrily.

She stared into his eyes and saw the depths of his concern behind the anger. She knew how to read through the cracks of his rough exterior, and despite the fact that she was still so unbelievably mad at him, for several reasons, part of her felt mollified. She knew he still cared about her.

She was feeling petulant, however.

“You don’t have the right to lecture me,” she said. “Anyway, what the hell happened? When I got there, everything was already on fire.”

Butcher crossed his arms. “Yeah, Soldier Boy fucking snapped.”

Helena frowned. “What do you mean?”

“On account o’ his PTSD.” Butcher rubbed at his mouth and beard. “I think he blacked out. Same as Midtown.”

For a moment, Helena was in shock. “Shit. And this is the guy you want to make a deal with?”

“The deal’s been made, love,” said Butcher. He regarded her with more guarded eyes. “Only thing to do is keep moving forward.”

“Right,” she snapped. “Until you get killed.”

Helena shook her head and tried to sit up straighter. It caused a shift in her ribs that felt like white hot pain, a knife stabbing into her. She gasped and grabbed at her right side.

Frowning deeper, Butcher stayed her hand and lifted up her shirt enough to take a look. What he found was a large, yellowish bruise covering nearly half of her ribcage. It wasn’t dark enough to be internal bleeding, but he knew her tan skin would darken soon enough.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“Is it bad?” she asked in worry.

“Is the pain dull or sharp?” he asked.

“Sharp,” she replied.

“Likely you’ve got a couple of broken ribs,” he said. “You can still breathe though. Nothing feels like it’s pokin’ ya, is it?”

She shook her head, relieving him further.

“You’ll probably be fine,” he said. You should get checked out at the hospital, though I doubt you’ll fucking take my advice. “They’ll heal up eventually.”

She frowned at him.

Maybe he should’ve made the hospital suggestion, because she shoved his hands off her and withdrew from him. He realized then how’d she’d taken his attempt to reassure her—like a lack of concern.

“Thanks, Dr. House,” she griped. “Your bedside manner is impeccable. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

Butcher held in a sigh. “Look, I didn’t mean it like—”

“I don’t care,” she said. Her tongue was sharp, but her eyes said that she was exhausted, in pain, and done with him.

So he reluctantly left her room and shut the door behind him. He eyed Soldier Boy, who sat on the couch, still in his supe suit while channel surfing on the TV. Hughie was trying to figure out on his phone where the closest fast food was.

Already Soldier Boy had given Butcher a list of possible safe houses to find Mindstorm: the second to last cast member of Payback. They were close enough to one of the addresses that it justified stopping for the night, but it also meant leaving Helena injured and alone with this radioactive boomer fuck, complete with PTSD and a taste for anything in a skirt.

Butcher grabbed Hughie’s arm and led him just outside the motel.    

“I’m gonna cross off the first safe house on the list,” he said. He jabbed a pointed finger in Hughie’s chest. “Don’t leave her alone with him, whatever you fucking do. And make sure he don’t fucking leave.”

Hughie was wide-eyed, but he nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

Butcher raised his brows. I mean it, the gesture said. Hughie nodded, a silent agreement struck between them.

He soon went back into the motel while Butcher took off in his car.

Hughie found the supe exactly where he’d left him: on the couch, watching reruns of Cheers. Soldier Boy didn’t look all that entertained, but his gaze slid over to Hughie when he came in.

“What’re you doing about food?” Soldier Boy asked.

Hughie blinked, and once again checked his phone. They were so deep in the middle of nowhere, no regular restaurant was going to deliver within an hour. There wasn’t even an Uber Eats or Doordash that delivered out here.

“That ain’t gonna cut it,” said Soldier Boy. His gaze was firm. “30 minutes or less. That’s what I’m’ giving you, before I go look for something myself.”

Fuck, Hughie thought. He couldn’t leave Helena alone, but he couldn’t have Soldier Boy taking off on him either.

“You can go, Hugh,” Helena said. He turned to find her standing in the doorway of her bedroom, looking worse for wear, but standing on her feet. She was leaning against the wall, and he immediately went to help her.

She directed him on where she wanted to sit: at the small, two-seater dining table.

She didn’t care what she ate, as long as it was hot, she told him. Though Hughie promised to bring her a soup of some kind, while Soldier Boy wanted “red meat.”

A burger it is, Hughie thought, internally rolling his eyes. He was still reluctant to leave, but Helena gave him an, I’ll be fine smile, weak though it was.

Hughie shook his head. Butcher was going to kill him, but he really didn’t have much of a choice. He left soon after, aiming to walk to the closest Wendy’s about half a mile down the road.  

Meanwhile, Helena let out a breath. Already she knew this shitty plastic seat at the dining wasn’t going to do it for her. She needed support for her back and ribs, but she also didn’t want to lay down in bed anymore.

It made her head swim and her stomach churn, but she slowly got up and moved to sit on the far end of the couch, where Soldier Boy sat. At least she’d be able to watch some TV and try to take her mind off her pain as she waited for the meds to kick in. However, it did mean trying her luck with the supe.

She glanced at him, giving a thin smile. Soldier Boy turned to her with a gaze that slowly took her in.

“This isn’t an invitation,” she said warily. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

His smile was lazy, with the confidence of a man who’d no doubt fucked his way through starlets, cabana girls, and certainly any willing supe.

“Hey, now,” he said with charm. “What kind of man do you fucking take me for?” 

A murdering one, Helena thought. But she didn’t sense a predatory attitude from him. At least, not in that sense. It didn’t mean she would let down her guard, but she did breathe a little easier.

“Besides. We both know that at some point,” he said. His voice lowered, like he was sharing a secret. His voice was deep and smooth, “You’re gonna get off your little high horse. When that time comes, I'll be more than happy to fuck you well and good, baby doll.”

Again, this man’s audacity knew no bounds. Helena’s brows raised high in shock. It took her a moment, but she eventually cleared her throat.

“Unlikely,” she deadpanned, despite her blush. “And who hits on someone with broken ribs?”

“They won’t be broken forever. And I can be…gentle,” he said. His eyes once again slid over her form, lingering on the hint of cleavage of her V-neck shirt. “Gentle enough, anyway.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit. This guy was too much.

“For the love of God. Enough, please,” she said. She shook her head, despite her incredulous smile. “I thought you said I needed a leash.”

She’d heard that little tidbit from the bug she planted in Butcher’s car.

Soldier Boy smirked. “Maybe. You are a bit fucking mouthy for my taste.”

That dimmed her amusement, into annoyance. There was that old-fashioned machismo that she couldn’t stand. 

“Welcome to the 21st fucking century,” Helena snipped. “There’s a lot more where I come from.”

Soldier Boy shot her a look, annoyed yet contemplative. “So what, you and Butcher had a thing?”

“Good use of the past tense,” she grumpily acknowledged. She took the remote that lied between them and started looking through the TV guide for something to watch.

The supe eyed her with a certain smile.

“What’s the fucking deal with him and Homelander?” he asked. “I mean, the guy’s a prick. But why does Butcher hate him so much?”

Helena paused in her channel search. For now, she landed on an old episode of The Mesmerizer.

She let out a deep breath, holding a hand to her side when that pained her ribs. She wasn’t sure that this was her story to tell, but maybe if Soldier Boy knew the truth about Homelander, he’d be even more motivated to kill the bastard, besides ego and jealousy.

“Becca. Butcher’s wife,” she began. “Homelander…”

 Helena paused. Even now, it was hard for her to say it out loud. She took in another steadying breath, and she met Soldier Boy’s green-eyed gaze.

“He violated her,” said Helena. “He ruined her damn life…and she died, because of him.” 

That fell between them with a stiff, somewhat awkward silence.

“And how do you fit into all this?” Soldier Boy asked, gesturing at her.

Helena inclined her head. “Becca was my best friend.”

She told her part of the story, after Becca disappeared. How she’d worked at Vought, and Butcher had come knocking on her door demanding her help. But once she was on board, she became committed to avenging her friend. Helena did omit any mention of Ryan, for his protection.

She gave Soldier Boy just enough of the story that it still made sense, down to her finally leaving Vought and giving the CIA as much intel as she could, while trying to keep her involvement with Butcher and his team a secret from her ex-employer (and Homelander, most of all).

“So you hooked up with your best friend’s husband?” Soldier Boy mused with a smirk.

Fucking figures. That was what he took from this conversation?

Helena gave him a shrewd frown.

“You’re taking the moral high ground here?” she volleyed back. “We didn’t get together until this year, if you must know.”

The supe shrugged. It led her to look at him with a little more contemplation. She asked a question she probably had no business asking, if she wanted to have some self-preservation. But her pain meds were kicking in, and it was giving her a high dose of fuck it.

“How long were you with Crimson Countess? You know…before,” she asked.

Soldier Boy’s expression dimmed, with a bitter edge.

“Too fucking long,” was all he said, crossing his arms. “She was always a raging bitch.”

Helena wanted to roll her eyes, but she supposed his vitriol was understandable, given that the woman had helped gift wrap him for the Russians, along with the rest of his team. She truly must have hated him.

“Did she participate in Herogasm too?” Helena asked. Or was its founder the only one allowed to fuck other people?

Soldier Boy quirked a brow at her, but she held her ground. She’d heard about that particular tidbit when she still worked at Vought. 

“She knew better,” he replied. It made Helena chuckle.

“Right. I just wonder if maybe Countess was a little bitter,” she mused. “I mean, her man is over here having frivolous orgies while she’s expected to be the Virgin Mary.”

Soldier Boy frowned in earnest now, with irritation and a hint of warning behind his eyes. Helena was too buzzed on her meds to heed that warning. Fuck, what the hell did Hughie give me?

“I was dedicated to our relationship,” Soldier Boy argued.

“In the viewing public, sure,” Helena retorted. “Vought’s poster boy committing serial adultery would’ve probably been frowned upon.”

She worked with supes for ten years. She knew how their marketing worked, especially with their “relationships,” fabricated for PR or otherwise.

Now, however, Soldier Boy turned to her with a sharper warning.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he raised his voice.

Helena paused with a small flinch. But she hid her apprehension.

“There’s no need to get loud,” she said. 

“There’s no need to be a smart-mouth bitch,” he shot back.

Her eyes narrowed at him. “I take that as a compliment, comrade.”

Soldier Boy didn’t know whether he was more irritated or amused by her audacity.

“You must really wanna end up over my knee, sweetheart,” he said snidely.

His arrogant face was insufferable, Helena thought. But he’d made no move to “put her in her place.” Maybe because she was injured. If she was a supe, or even a man, she didn’t think he’d be so lenient.

She smirked. “Or maybe….maybe I’m just high. Jesus, how many milligrams did Hughie give me?” 

She tried to shift into a more comfortable sitting position on the couch, but it only disrupted her ribs, with a sharp flare of pain that made her wince. Her head ached as well, cutting through some of her brain fog.

She needed a shower, food, and sleep. The shower would have to wait, but Hughie had better hurry the fuck up with the food.

She was so preoccupied with her discomfort that she didn’t notice, at first, how Soldier Boy was looking at her. He still seemed irritated as he took the remote from her.

“You should probably shut the fuck up then. Get some sleep. Maybe then I’ll get some peace and quiet,” he said.

Helena raised her brows. “Wow, you are a delight.”

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes.

He was an asshole. In fact, he’d just caused a hell of a scene, had apparently blacked out, and as a result, had even killed a handful of people in the process of getting revenge on the T&T Twins.

And yet…

Get some sleep, he’d said.

He seemed to have a tiny sliver of decency. Helena only detected it because she was fluent in the language of emotionally deficient men.

She considered getting up to take his “advice,” of getting some rest, but he managed to find Lethal Weapon playing on one of the movie channels.

“Oh, that’s a classic,” she told him. “From the late ‘80s…you probably just missed it.”

Soldier Boy frowned at her, but he didn’t turn the channel. They watched the movie from then on in a strangely companionable silence.

But of course, the peace couldn’t last for long.

There was a shootout on the screen; predictable for an action movie. Helena had seen this scene half a dozen times, but she heard a hitch of breath. She turned to her right and saw that her companion’s gaze was glazed over, unfocused.

Soldier Boy sat stiffly, blinking, with a subtle shake of his head, like he was trying to get rid of a ringing in his ears.

“Soldier Boy?” she tried. He didn’t seem to hear her.

Oh fuck. She paused, realizing what was happening.

Though it pained her battered ribs and head, she pulled herself up straighter and scooted closer to him on the couch. When she touched his shoulder, his gaze snapped up to hers. She tried not to flinch.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“…I don’t know,” he gritted out. 

Her breath shallowed along with his. Even if she tried to run, she doubted she’d get very far if he freaked out and blasted this motel off the map.

“Okay, it’s okay. Soldier…what’s your name?” she asked. 

For just a moment, her question managed to split him out of his disassociation. 

“What?”

“What’s your name?” Helena repeated. 

He blinked like he had something in his eye, though she knew he was trying to concentrate on her. At the same time, she seemed to be irritating him. 

“Soldier Boy,” he said. 

“No, not that bullshit. Your real name,” Helena insisted, and she squeezed his shoulder. It was unnaturally warm.

She couldn’t know that her words kicked the man back into his memories—before Russia. Before even Payback.

Behind his mind’s eye, he saw the tall, stoic, imposing figure of his father. The floral print of his mother’s Sunday dress when he was a kid. Her smile when she touched his cheek.

“Ben,” he gritted out. His chest was started to burn and glow from the inside. He was fighting it tooth and nail as his gaze flit over the woman next to him. Run, you fucking idiot.

“Ben,” Helena repeated. Her concern was in her eyes as she chanced lowering her hand, from his shoulder to his arm. “Stay with me, Ben. Can you breathe through it?”  

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, shutting his eyes.

He wanted to tell her to stop touching him like he was some weak piece of shit. But the pressure was building beyond his control. 

“Ben?” she prodded weakly. Even through his super suit, his arm became too hot for her to touch. She gasped and was forced to release him. She saw the glow of his chest through his suit and tried to back away, but her shaking body was frozen in fear.

Her wide eyes met his.

Ben had just enough presence of mind to push her away from him, just before a burst of nuclear power escaped him. With a rough yell, he tried to angle it upwards. The beam tore through half of the motel room and escaped through the ceiling.

Afterwards, he was breathing hard and staring into a midnight sky through the large hole his power had created. The distant sounds of screaming and car horns blaring was familiar, though he grimaced.

Fuck, he thought. He looked at the carnage wrecked through the rest of the motel room, though he didn’t remember creating it.

Belatedly, he remembered Helena.

She had been tossed to the floor, onto her back. Ben hesitated, but he slid off the couch and went to her, taking a knee on the ground beside her prone form. He brushed some plaster dust off her face and checked her pulse at her neck.

He nodded at the feel of her pulse thrumming under the pads of his fingers. Then, he surprised himself by sliding and arm under her back and propping her up against him. He tapped her cheek.

“Hey, wake up,” he prodded.

She didn’t oblige him just yet, making his brows furrow. Ben had a moment to take in her dark lashes that matched her long, dark hair of loose curls. (He could imagine wrapping them around his hand.)

Though her face was pale at the moment, her skin was tan and smooth, with full lips he couldn’t help being tempted by. Through the sweat and dust, he could even detect an earthy, floral scent. Maybe it was her shampoo.

“Helena?” Butcher’s voice made Ben raise his head. He frowned, mostly because he hadn’t heard the man coming. His ears were still ringing a bit, though he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

Butcher got down on her other side and took Helena from Ben’s arms, quickly, but still with care. Butcher touched her clammy cheek, then glared at the supe.

“Get your Wonder Girl powers in check before you blast us all to hell!” he snapped.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Ben barked back, as he stood. “Without me, you’ve got fuck all.”

Butcher seethed; both because he was furious, and because he knew Soldier Boy was right. They still needed one another to accomplish their respective agendas, and that was the bitch of it.

Butcher got back onto his feet with Helena in his arms. He ignored the supe for now, and brought her to the bedroom, which had mostly remained unscathed.

He laid her down on the bed and surveyed the damage, even lifting her shirt to make sure she wasn’t visibly bleeding. She really should’ve been checked out at a hospital…

Just as he almost resolved to do just that, she started to wake, with a moan of pain. Butcher softened. He rested a careful, and surprisingly tender hand against her cheek. He held his breath, waiting for the moment that she blinked awake, revealing those honey brown eyes.

Helena bit her lip when she saw him, leaning her cheek against his hand. She was still full of painkillers and brain fog, and all she really wanted right now was some comfort. The thought made her eyes sting with tears. She held his hand against her face.

“You gotta stop doing this to me, love,” Butcher muttered. His thumb caressed her cheek.

She smiled, because this was the man she knew. She missed him so damn much. 

“I thought you hated being bored,” she rasped.

Butcher let out a long breath while his thoughts darkened. Might just kill that prick after Homelander.

Her gaze narrowed a bit.

“I know that look. Believe it or not, this was him saving me,” she said, with a sigh, briefly closing her eyes. “The Russians pulled a fucking number on him.”

“Yeah. He’s got a few fucking screws loose, don’t he?” Butcher replied. 

Helena tugged him down to her by his collar and touched his cheek.

“Come with me, Billy,” she all but pleaded. “You can still let this go…”

She leaned up enough to nearly press her lips to his, but Butcher held off. His eyes roamed over her face, concentrating on her lips. They both knew he wanted this…

But he wouldn’t let himself. Her tears dripped down the corners of her eyes when he gently pulled her hand away. He leaned back and sat up on the edge of the bed.

“We’re gonna have to move,” he said. “Just rest there a tick, ‘til we get all squared away, figure out where we’re going. And where the fuck is Hughie?”

The latter he asked to himself, but Helena couldn’t be bothered to answer him. She wiped at her face and tried to bury her hurt and dismay, deep under a layer of anger. She forced her body to sit up with a whimper.

“Ey,” Butcher protested. She ignored him.

“I know where we can go,” she said, meeting his gaze. “It’s safe, and neither Vought or Homelander know where it is.”

He was confused at first, but he was too smart not to know where her mind was headed. Her house was close to the city, but still far enough to give them cover. And only Helena, Butcher, and Grace knew its location.

Butcher frowned.

“No,” he started to say. Before he could get going in earnest, Hughie stepped into what was left of the motel. They saw him through the gaping chasm—of what used to be a wall between the bedroom and the front door. He nearly dropped the Wendy’s bags.

“What the shit?!” Hughie exclaimed. “Where’s the roof?”

AN: 😬 Okay, so a lot of Soldier Boy being an ass in this chapter lol. (As usual.) And now these four are headed to Helena's house. What could possibly go wrong? 😂

Next Time:

Maybe I really do have a death wish, Helena thought, as she let the most wanted supe alive into her home.

Butcher and Hughie joined him, with the latter taking in her two-story house for the first time.

“Nice,” Hughie said with a nod. “This place is beautiful.”

Helena gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Though she gave Ben a pointed look. “Try not to break it, please.”

He shot her a raised brow, but didn’t comment. Instead, he watched her turn and show them one of the guest bedrooms on the first floor. Meanwhile, his gaze lingered on the curve of her ass in those jeans.

Butcher caught the supe’s lazy perusal with a sharp eye. Ben felt his stare and had the gall to shoot him a wink with his smile. His steps had a certain swagger as he followed Helena down the hall.

Keep Reading: Part 18

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Tag List:

@lauraaan182 @homielander @calizmor @haibara-ai-tsii @brujaporfavor @sleepyqueerenergy @adoringanakin @skyesthebomb @lunaticgurly @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso

@xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @emily-winchester @xxlaynaxx @kaleldobrev @jad3djay

[sarahs-malewives]

Welcome to the first annual 

Secret Selfship Santa!

It’s pretty self explanatory: a secret santa for selfship blogs!

Before we start, here are some things to keep in mind.

This is my first time ever running an event of any kind, so take most things said with a grain of salt.

I am the only person running this.

This event will take place on this blog, at least for this year.

No nsfw or proship blogs can join this. There will also be no nsfw/proship art.

How to join!

To enter you must reblog this post and

have at least one s/i and their respective f/o named

name the franchise the f/o comes from. Include any major tw/cws it has if your recipient wants to look the franchise up

have proper reference images of them (or include a link to said images)

describe your s/i’s personality a bit, and your f/o’s if you want

Optionally, you can also

list what you would consider your chars, so I can make sure your recipient can draw them

I will be joining myself, so I’ll make an example of what this should look like under cut!

Entries will close on Saturday December 7th at 8 am est.

What will happen afterwards:

Starting on Saturday after entries close, I’ll dm everyone who entered from my main (saywha413). There I’ll ask what you’re best at drawing (humans, anthros, etc). If you do not respond by Monday (at 8 am est), you will be removed from the event.

After Monday I’ll spin a wheel and randomly assign everyone a person.

You will then have until December 25th to work on your piece, which you’ll then post! Make sure you @ both your recipient and me, and use the tag #secret-selfship-santa2024 !

I hope you all will enjoy this event as much as I will! ^^ If you have any questions, feel free to send an ask or reply to this post!

There will probably not be reminders for things closing. I’m lazy.

Two examples for reblogs: (they’re not my official entries lol)

Here is my s/i Byleth and my f/o Felix, both from Fire Emblem Three Houses!

Byleth (in this form) is very stern, almost cold, and doesn’t show many emotions. Her friends (including Felix) sort of crack him open, though.

Felix is the classic bad boy/tsundere trope. He’s terrible at expressing his feelings, hates communicating regularly with the other people in his house, and is fairly aggressive.

They’re both humans.

Or

Here’s a link to my s/i’s ref and info, and here’s a link to my f/o’s. (pretend the blue is a link)

They’re both from fire emblem three houses and humans.

dividers: x

[stormtheskyelf2]

Info!

My name is Storm the Sky Elf (aka stormy/Mocra) and I like vore :D

So naturally, we have a "read more" thing here.

I AM A FAE I WILL STEAL YOUR DEADNAME YOU'RE WELCOME

PLEASE, NO NSFW/SXUAL CONTENT UNLESS WE'RE SPECIFICALLY TALKING ABOUT STUFF LIKE THAT! You can interact with my already nsfw posts if I have any but if you reblog my sfw vore posts with nsfw stuff you're getting yeeted

(i do reblog nfsw works here, even though I don't make nsfw works myself. please block me / ask me to block you if you feel uncomfortable with this.)

Don't come at me with your anon hate and other accounts over my political opinion.

My character.ai links:

Computer acc: MocraTheBean

Phone Acc: TheMocrainIsles_CH

THIS IS MY SECOND ACC SINCE I was dumb and forgot to put my email on the other account-

Other acc: @smolbeanthecat

-

G/t and Half/size are my go-tos for vore pairs, but I might do same size 

Taurus is my zodiac

Pronouns She/Her

I am an ageless blog! I draw/talk about sfw vore with occasional digestion?? kinda lol mostly angsty, so if you don’t like go eat the three moons (joking but feel free to block me if you don’t like this!)

I have OCD but it’s not like “Be perfect” urge It’s more like “Get stuff done before Mother comes home” urge even though she’s always around

I love Murder Drones, AVA, and I have the entire series of Wings Of Fire. I also watch plenty of Rodramix and FNF vs Imposter.

MY ART MAY SAY 'MADE BY THEBEANSTUDIOS'/'MOCRATHEBEAN'/"THEBEAN".

That's my non-vore countryball account on Pixelart and if any of y'all come over and talk to me about vore on that account i will be deleting you from the plane of existence /lh

--

And I lost whatever else I was gonna say.

Asks are open!

I am opening free comissions! Mostly vore ocs but I do other oc’s too! 

Vore and small smidges of gore/digestion are okay, like agnst stuff where the pred has to eat the prey to heal them or maybe pred hurt prey- (for both commissions and asks)

Character. ai asks WERE available, but idk what's going on with char. ai. It shadowbanned me??

If you want art, just ask :D

You can send me story prompts and I will respond with the story! If you want specifics, give me them all >:)

I will try to respond with asks in about a day or so!

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

You can ask..

Me :D

Lol gimme a moment, I don't have any ocs

oh wait yes I do

Miss Mocra, My Fundamental Paper Education OC! She's the biology teacher.

Mocra, my dandy's world oc! She's a terracotta moss planter.

Annddd my giantess mermaid, Mochi/Moc! (picrew by ELEQUINOA)

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

I do roleplays! I am a SEPN prey and pred, mainly pred :D

I also do non-vore roleplays.

Send something in my ask box stating the roleplay base and we can go from there :D

(You send ask, I answer, you ask, etc...)

We also have messages!

⚠️

!I WILL BE SLOW TO ANSWER SUCH THINGS

---

"if you're pro-trump/pro-elon get off my page' my guy if you are obsessing over politics get off MY page.

Yeah I'm a Republican, I live in the fucking South. We're all red. Will I harp at you for being different? NO???! I'm here to look at pictures of people swallowing each other, not discriminate!

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

My tags:

#Stormtheskyelf spills - I just say whatever the heck I was saying and leave it as a mess

#Stormtheskyelf vore idea- Working on using it for my random stories I throw at y'all. Also, daily vore idea is cancelled because I might be moving.

#Stormtheskyelf -Just whatever is currently from me because I’m too lazy to put anything else

#Reich!Vore #Poland!Vore - My story I'm workin on

#Mocra - another general tag for me

#sensible stormy - therapist/mom/parent figure stormtheskyelf gives advice

[neonbrutalism]

10 first lines challenge

Tagged by @stripedscribe

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

Im lazy, here's my profile! https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonbrutalism/works

(First 3 are Spider-Man stuff, the rest are Daredevil centric)

Unprompted Drone Attack: Miles is pretty sure the drone is buzzing them.

Heretic Pride: The monster dies at the end of the story. 

Mostly Intact: Miguel’s skull was still buzzing a little when he came to.

On the Anti-Magical Properties of Danny Rand's Bathtub Moonshine: “It’s definitely getting worse,” said Foggy, using a pen to idly poke his rubber band ball, which was currently suspended about a foot above his desk and covered in a thick layer of ice, “Have you checked out the subway, yet?”

I'd Arrest You If I Had Handcuffs: “I’m not saying I handled it well, Foggy…”

Fear Itself: There was a rumor going around in Hell��s Kitchen.

Cards, Catch and Fortune Cookies: “This is a really ominous card, man.”

Five Percent Discount on Whole Human Blood: “Okay, what about Frankenstein?”

Charred Debris Oh shit oh no fuck fuck fuck.

Welcome Knife: “You’re an absolute psycho, you know that, right?”

Tagging: @inkforhumanhands

[gojoest]

funny story, i saw gojo a long time ago on tiktok and i was like « oh he fineee » but i was to lazy to watch the anime and then the « daddy’s home » happened and i saw him again and i was obsessed watching 74831 edits and finally watched the anime and started being really in love with him bc of fan fics (and your posts too)

anyway i love your blog and can’t wait to read more of anything of yours gojo related lmaooo

xoxo 🫂💋

ofc he fineeee !!! i think at least that’s something we all agree on whether we like him or not 😌 he’s just one of those types of ppl/chars that are objectively hot (annoying too) and we can’t deny it, i think.

“daddy’s home” was one of my biggest nightmares lmao i try to forget about it but it still haunts me to this day bc there’s always that one person who reblogs an old post or something and puts that in the tags jskhs and i’m like ok i just have to get used to it 😔

thank you!!! it means so much to me that you love my silly thoughts and occasional writing, i appreciate it so so much! 🥹🩶

[kurakuradon-moved]

ꜱᴜʙᴍɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀᴛʙᴏʏ ꜰᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅɪᴇ

Comic Version under the cut:

[undermattsun-archive]

Yaku told me nobody would fuck me and now I'm sad, will you fuck meeee - Lev

yaku’s right and he now owes me $50 for emotional compensation let him know

[nako-doodles]

I was tagged by my loves @odeng1e @bangpdgf and @fakelovesgf 💘💕 thank u bub this was really fun to do even tho it took me a solid 1983940573 years for me to get to it 😅

the templates are here!💘

anyways I tag: @t0d-oder-freiheit @seokjinsult @jinseas @seokjiniesgf @jinbeann @jinergy @kimseokjinniestan @cafejoon @jinsapeach & anyone who wants to 💕

[doctorgerth]

I'm an village idiot and forgot to clarify that the (12 for Hawkins, Heat or Shyarly) request was fort he fluffy alphabet! I'm super sorry! ;;

a/n: no worries, love!!! happy to write this request for you 🥰 I know I’ve recently presented the idea of non-cuddly Hawkins, but now I offer you all an awkward cuddly Hawkins instead! with a lil but of angst...sry idk what’s been up with me lately 😳 hope you like it! also plz ignore the bad editing of the banner I’m too lazy to fix ahhhh

prompt: BOX A - ⑿ Feeling for each other in the dark

pairing: Hawkins x GN!Reader

warnings: angst from a nightmare, but overall fluff!

word count: ~470

The feel of Hawkins’ hands reaching out for you in the middle of the night was a feeling you admittedly weren’t quite used to.

You respected Hawkins space just as he respected yours. You were preparing yourself for the day Hawkins suggested separate beds, but what you didn’t know was that he’d actually grown accustomed to the feel of your warm presence beside him. In fact, he’d probably grown quite dependent on it.

That dependency manifested on a stormy night in Wano; the rumble of thunder and lightning at play with his subconscious as he tossed and turned on his side of the bed. Thunder was replaced with Kaido’s monstrous roars, lightning symbolizing his blazing inferno that destroyed all in its path. When Hawkins realized that you were in his path, he ran.

As with all nightmares, it felt like he was running through tar pits. His legs refused to move at desired speed, and everything around him seemed to pass in slow motion though Kaido barreled through the charred wasteland with ease, arriving above you with lightning speed. As the ominous glow illuminated behind snarling teeth, Hawkins cried out for you which resulted in him searching for you in your shared bed.

Sleep was still heavy in his movements as he aimlessly reached out for you. Just the feel of your skin, any inch, would do. But panic settled within him when your side of the bed seemingly offered him nothing. His eyes shot open, adjusting poorly in the pitch black darkness and his hands began searching for you in distress.

You awoke to his frantic movements, somnolently reaching out to grab at his hand. As you softly laced your fingers with his and placed a kiss along your tangled hands, the lightning illuminated your drowsy figure and Hawkins sighed in audible relief.

“Mm, Basil? Everything okay?” You mumbled out, sleepy, but still aware of the shaking from the hand you held. You squeezed it in an offerance of comfort.  

“I’m alright.” He responded as he slowly eased back into his previous position, focusing on regulating his racing heart. You attempted to release your hands, but remained when you felt him squeeze you firmly, a silent plea to not let go.

“Bad dream?”

“Yes.”

You opened up your arms to invite him in. While you truthfully expected him to turn away from you with a polite rejection, he surprised you by slowly crawling over to your side and easing into your embrace. His arms were a bit awkward as they wrapped around you. Nevertheless, this was a rare moment, so you accepted his affections graciously.

“Is this...okay?”

You couldn't help but snicker, wondering if his question was more for you or himself. You burrowed in his hair and hummed lightly, “Stay as long as you need.”

tag list: @kaizokuwritings @mariegeoise @pagingdoctorbedlam @lofi-coffee @vemuabhi @ro6inante @greyblueberries @some-piece @minruko @issatheartist @ochizokulevy @fueledbyapplepi

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[dark-side-laegrinna]

Check-in tag

@rudhira said anyone who sees their post is tagged, so I’m going to do this for both mrs-mquve and mrs-mquve-cc!

Why did you choose your url?

Because one of my favorite fictional characters is M’Quve from Mobile Suit Gundam. I was crazy obsessed with him for several years (I've had fictional character hyperfixations my whole life). I’m not so embarrassingly fixated on him anymore but I still love him, of course! I added “cc” for my Sims 2 custom content blog.

BTW, if anyone unfamiliar with Gundam is wondering how M’Quve is pronounced, it’s muh-KOO-vay.

How long have you been on tumblr?

10 years!

Do you have a queue tag?

I don’t use the queue - I’m a dork who’s on my computer all day so I just save drafts and post them sporadically. When I did briefly use it the tag was “m’queuve” 😆

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

To post about M’Quve and find other Gundam fans. Unfortunately the fandom (for the original Gundam from 1979) has fallen off the face of Tumblr. I just post other stuff I like and character aesthetics on my main now. I started my Simblr shortly after I started making CC because I discovered the TS2 community here.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Another character hyperfixation. It’s Laegrinna, the protagonist of Deception IV: Blood Ties (Kagero: Dark Side Princess). I also play characters from that game in TS2, so sim!Laegrinna is my pfp for mrs-mquve-cc.

Why did you choose your header?

Because I took a sexy picture of sim!Laegrinna and I loved it. My Simblr header is her and Zeno Shin, they are my OTP.

What’s your post with the most notes?

Hoo boy. A silly post years ago about a Char Aznable vibrator I found browsing Japanese Gundam sites. I blocked notifications because I was still getting them 8 years later. I’ve since deleted all posts pre-2015 because my god was I cringy back then. Currently it’s a gif I made with PicMix of Tuvok from Star Trek: Voyager. I don’t know which post on my Simblr has the most notes.

How many mutuals do you have?

I’m too lazy to count. I do know that most of them for my main are inactive.

How many followers do you have? How many people do you follow?

444 on my main and 850 on my Simblr. I follow 460.

Have you ever made a shitpost?

All the time on my main. I even have tags for them. #fia shitpost and #deception shitposting.

How often do you use tumblr each day?

I have it open in my browser most of the day and post when I feel like it. I have no life, lol.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

Uh... yeah, when I first joined. They won when they sent me a kind of threatening ask and I dropped it. I was more outspoken and generally cringy back then. I shared a lot of TMI. I feel like getting older has made me more careful and reserved.

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

I hate them. Nobody’s obligated to reblog anything. Tumblr’s not just for activism, people can post whatever the hell they want.

Do you like tag games?

Yes, they’re a lot of fun!

Do you like ask games?

Not really. I’m socially awkward so talking directly to people is less comfortable for me than communicating through posts.

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Oh, I dunno. I might be mutuals with a few bigger Simblrs but that might be it.

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

No. I’m married and that would be weird.

I’m pretty sure most people have done this at this point, so if you see this and haven’t already, consider yourself tagged.

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

2021 Hakuoki Calendar Stellaworth Bromides scanned by me. sorry but im lazy and will not be tagging chars in any other post aside from this one....

The calendar is too big to scan so I’m going to take photos of it tomorrow (unless there’s not enough sunlight)... when I have natural lighting since all the light I’ve tried using has given all my pics a yellowish tint. 

oh and i gave up trying to remove the scanner blemishes from the Souji image cuz I’m tired (the Saito one is mostly okay tho that’s cuz i spent about 30 min in photoshop touching it up)... will provide the raw .bmp to anyone who wants to fix that...

as always, feel free to use~ 

[boxboysandotherwhump]

The new boy in town.

Tags:  @salamancialilypad  @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee  @ashintheairlikesnow   @haro-whumps   @moose-teeth @vickytokio​ @yet-another-heathen​ @orchidscript

Chapter 2

CW: body-shaming/ insults, discrimination/ dehumanization of mutants, an insect gets hurt, a nearly fistfight ensues

Heat thrummed through Gideon’s bones and throbbed in unison with his building headache. His patience had shriveled up like dried fruit under the torrid summer sun while this horrible lavender scent clung to his hair,  his skin, his clothes, making him dizzy.

It became stronger on the village outskirts, Gideon realized as he hurried after Director Sahin. The man ascended the crooked stone staircase effortlessly, his moss-green robe billowing behind him. His artfully decorated spear swayed with every step he took, not brushing a single leave. The only thing rustling through the underbrush was the wind and the creatures living there.

A twig caught in Gideon’s black curls, while the Director rambled on about the virtues of disciplinary work. How it encouraged the growth of one’s character, or some shit. The twig broke off with a quiet snap, painfully pulling at his scalp. Gideon’s mood dropped even lower. It was going to be a nightmare to fiddle all those shitty branches and leaves out of his hair later on.

He was seconds away from losing his barely-held composure. 

The only thing keeping him from bursting at the seams was the promise he’d whispered into his brother's grave, a last farewell bedded beside a corpse. 

Gideon had come to this godforsaken village to learn how to fight and survive in the forest, not to become some obedient little soldier boy! But in order to do that, he had to get cleared for training again and out of suspension.

If he had to play the director’s errand boy for a day to achieve that, so be it. He had endured worse.  

“Haaah, here we are.” Director Sahin inhaled deeply, arms falling wide. “Finally. My dear friend’s farm. Tell me, young Gideon, is it not simply beautiful?”

Gideon shrugged. “‘S’ okay.”

Granted, the house did look cozy, resting encircled by giant roots with its warm brick walls, but those gigantic snails everywhere sent a shudder down his spine. If he had to touch those slimy monsters he-

The farm’s sliding doors opened before he could utter a protest, and a fine-boned, middle aged woman emerged, followed by a huge man with a greying beard.  A boy, probably his own age but significantly shorter, held the door open for them.

The older woman’s lips curled into a crooked smile as she caught sight of Director Sahin, whose whole face had lit up. Dark eyes shining. 

“Moira. My darling. Please do not tell me you are about to leave? Not when I looked forward to seeing your beautiful face again.”

Gideon suppressed a gag. Moira crossed her arms, smile growing sharper. Her eyes held a warm twinkle as she spoke. “Eric; charming as ever.”

The man behind her stepped closer and huffed:  “M happy ‘ter see ya too, Eric.”

“Oh Ansgar you flatter me. But I must confess, I am not here solely for tea and a chat-“

The Director rattled on and Gideon’s focus wandered to the girl that had stepped out the door behind a blonde woman. A fancy grey blouse hung off her thin shoulders, nearly covering the  lace trim of blue silk short. A stark contrast to the more practical attire favored by most villagers. But that wasn’t what caught Gideon’s attention, no, he had seen all sorts of fancy getups up in Berlin -in the city's upper ring that is- what drew his eyes to her, was her face.

Its left side was oddly deformed, her pale skin uneven like a creased silk sheet, drawing her left eye down and her full lips up. She mouthed something to the boy, smiling, earning a smile from him in turn.

“Ah yes may I introduce: Gideon, my newest student.”

Having lost most of the adults’ conversation Gideon tuned back in just in time, to give them a curt nod.

“I will send him to collect the salve after the feast, then,” Director Sahin announced, please as can be. 

“Wonderful.” Moira clapped her hands. All back to business brusqueness.  “Sahar will appreciate not having to deliver it for once. Right?”

The other boy snapped to attention, green eyes wide and fingers twitching like the hands of a pianist. A grateful smile rose to his face and he nodded.

Oh great, so Gideon had to take the trip up here twice. 

They descended the stairs, lined up one after another on the narrow path. Sahar right in front of him, following the strange girl. He had avoided Gideon’s eyes as he squeezed past him, careful not to touch, probably scared off by his uniform. The school’s emblem, embroidered on his stainless white shirt, proudly declared him a scout in training. Deadly. Fearless. The little farm boy definitely did better not to mess with an insect slayer like him.

The girl came to an abrupt halt, frozen in the woodland’s shadows before it gave way to the dusty hill road. Gideon nearly collided with Sahar, when he heard it.

A primal, bone chilling hiss tore through the hot afternoon air, rattling through his very core. 

Every hair on his body stood, muscles tensing, on edge just like his fraying nerves. 

He knew that sound. 

Even though he’d heard it only once before. On the crusade from last-stand-berlin to the village, where he had seen the beast it belonged to lurk on the riverside, watching them.

He would never forget a spider’s hiss. 

And there one stood, right in front of him, its eight thorny legs towering high above its ugly head. The spider’s giant yaws worked, rubbed against each other in agitation. Its razor sharp fangs glistened in the sun.

A man sat atop its massive, hairy body, scar-faced and clad in a straw cape that was fastened to a beetle’s shell armoring his left shoulder. Shimmering in iridescent hues of blue and green. The man did not smile as he glanced down at them. A silent challenge was edged in the hard lines of his rugged face.

Tense static filled the air, an almost tangible thing that bit at Gideons fingers. It wormed its way into his bones, crawled over his scalp.  

He almost, almost, flinched when Director Sahin shouldered past him, spear drawn and followed by the other man. Both planted themselves right in front of him and the others.

The intruder’s scar stretched with the rise of his eyebrows, eyes slitting in a lazy half-grin.

 “Hey, there. Hold your horses. Before someone does something he regrets later.”

“That a threat?” Ansgar grunted.

Moira ducked past him, face twisted in a furious scowl as she spit. “Oh, something other than entering our village on a damn wolf-spider you mean?!”

The corded muscle in her boney arm flexed as she shook her fist at the man, unveiling a wrath behind her primly dressed form that no one would have wanted to fall victim to.

He, however, just leaned closer, smile stretching into a shark-tooth grin. “Gutsy, are we? I like that.”

Director Sahim stepped up beside her, spear held in a steady grip. “How could you make it past our InD-Units with this monstrosity?! God show you mercy if you did something to-”

“What do you think I am?!” the intruder drawled, hands raised in mock offense. “A monster?! Only reason I got past your insect defenses was this baby here.”

Gideon had to stand on his tiptoes to catch a glance of the small round device that sat embedded into the spider’s head, partly hidden by the man’s straw cape. A little red light blinked in a steady rhythm above three buttons, which the man was careful not to touch as he rapped his knuckles against it. 

“Renders her absolutely obedient. All natural instinct turned off. See?”

He unsheathed a knife from a holster strapped around his leg and its steel blade shimmered in the sun before he rammed it in one of the spider’s eyes, plopping it out with a nauseating plitch. The spider endured its master’s violation in utter stillness, only its yaws twitched, creating this awful hiss in their never ceasing movement.

 “She’s docile as a lamb.”

“And how exactly is that supposed to work?” the girl inquired, meeting the man’s stare with a calculated cold composure. She ignored the incredulous look the blonde woman gave her, as she mouthed: “Charlotte, what are you doing?”

The intruder's mouth twitched.

“Man, what do I know, Missy?! I’m a mutant hunter not a scientist.” He leaned closer, eyes narrowed, fixed on the girl's deformed face. Venom spiked his words, dripped from his tongue like acid. “My expertise lies in chasing down freaks.”

The condescendingly cruel way in which he spoke, wielding words like a weapon meant to pierce and twist where it hurt most, reminded Gideon oddly of his father. Anger welled up in his chest, buzzed down his legs and made them move. He planted himself right between the girl and the intruder.

How dare he compare someone to mutant scum?!

“Tsk. Mutant hunter?! You’ve ever even seen one? Or are you just talk? Threatening girls?!”

“Gideon.”, Director Sahim hissed, squeezing Gideon’s shoulder in warning as he tried to pull him back. 

The man gave them a wry smile. “No no. Let’s hear him out. Have you ever seen one boy?”

“Yes.” Gideon spat, unable to reign his emotions back in. “They’re hideous monstrosities.  And I’m going to find and kill every single one of them.”

The man burst into violent laughter, shoulders shaking and head thrown back, nearly losing his balance under the force of it.

“You do have guts, I give you that. But also lots to learn. Do you really think a girl can’t be a mutant? Monster’s come in all shapes and sizes, boy.” His eyes wandered back to Charlotte.  “Just ugly, that’s the whole lot of them.`` 

The blonde woman gasped, searching for words to shoot back, but falling silent as she noticed Charlotte’s expression. 

Red blotches burned on her face, rage twisting it into a vicious scowl. The afternoon sun set her copper curls on fire. Ready to spew fury and flames, she opened her mouth but Sahar was faster, his small voice piping up.

“Char- Charlotte is… is no- no mutant and and and she’s neither ugly nor weak. And and and people who talk about, talk about killing others for no- no, no reason are… They’re the- the real monsters.”  

His fingers fiddled with his shorts, tapping and twisting in the dark, worn linen as he stumbled over his words. His big green eyes jumped from the rocky street to the spider’s fangs, lingered on the intruder’s face before landing on Gideon. They narrowed as he all but spat the last words in Gideon’s face.  

“The hell you just said?!” Gideon’s nostrils flared. How dare this little runt run his mouth about things he didn’t know shit about!

Crossing his arms, Sahar forced himself to hold his ground against Gideon’s furious, wide eyed stare.  “You you, you heard me.”

Gideon heart hammered in his throat, pumping liquefied fire through his veins. His hands twitched.

“I give you one chance to take. That. Back.”

The boy’s trembling fingers dug into his forearms, knuckles whitening as he lifted his chin.

 “Never.”

A roar tore from Gideon’s throat as he leapt forward. Rage burned through him like a wildfire, ready to ignite everything his fist would come in contact with.

Beating the selfritousnes out of that stupid stammering farmboy was the only thing that mattered now. Everything else blurred to background noise. Even the stranger on his shitty spider. 

In that frozen second between charge and impact, Sahar’s  feet moved. His body tilted to the side. Dodged Gideon’s blow. Effortlessly. He bounced back. Landed on the first stone step and uncrossed his arms. Ready to defend himself. His fingers had stopped twitching.

That little runt had nerves! 

Gideon broke into a sprint.

“You sure are good at dodging!” He swung his arm back. “Try to handle this!”

Muscles flexing Gideon readied for impact, only for his arm to be janked back. A  large hand had wrapped around his wrist. Stopped him mid punch.  Craning his neck, Gideon stared up into Ansgar’s stern face.

Fuck he’s fast?! 

“Looks like ya still got lots t’ learn about respect ‘n self-discipline, young man.”

Director Sahin sighed, eyes still locked on the intruder, who watched the spectacle with a lazy kind of interest.

Ansgar released Gideon’s hand and turned to Sahar. His grey eyes glistened like ice shards. “Same goes for you. Ya disappointed me, Sahar.”

Sahar blinked up at the man, eyes round and full of disbelief.

“Wh-what- what, what do you, do do do do- what do you  mean?”

“I haven’t trained ya to run off ‘n start mindless fights. I tried to teach ya discipline ‘n how to survive these woods.” Ansgar’s voice did not waver and every word made Sahar shrink into himself. His fingers tapped a hectic distorted rhythm over his leg

The intruder snickered, “someone’s a stuck up,” earning Moira’s venomous glare. 

“But- but I didn’t- he he he he he was, he was the one who-“

“Enough,” Ansgar thundered. “Don’t argue with me. If ya want a beatin’ so bad I’ll give ya one later. And now back t’ the farm. Ya grounded for the week. No fest. No nothin’!”

Sahar crumbled under the man’s anger, head ducked between his shoulders as the first teardrop fell. It trickled down his trembling jaw, painting a glistening path on his warm skin.

Voice reduced to a shaky exhale Sahar nodded,  “yes, sir.”, and stormed up the stairs.

He had just vanished between the thick bushes, when the intruder broke out into a new laughing fit.

[followyoursecretsmutblog]

sugar.

Summary: Walter Marshall gets a new neighbor. And she is a bit more than he bargained for. (yes I am aware this is a Fall Out Boy song Sugar, we’re going down, no it was not intensional)

It’s not my fault. I really don’t mean to stare. 

Or grab the bottle of wine while taking a seat facing the window. Watching as my handsome neighbor paces in his kitchen, running a hand threw his hair.

Popping the cork, I settle in my seat, bottle poised at my lips.

In the three months I have lived here, I have yet to actually meet the man. But, according to his mail that I sometimes get, his name is Walter.

Though, I haven’t made a point to go visit him and introduce myself.

Not that I could, we seem to be operating on different schedules. He is away when I am home, and I can only guess he is home when I am away.

I wonder what he does for work to have such odd hours.

Maybe he’s a spy? He does look to be in good shape.

Oh, spicy.

Tipping the bottle, I tilt my head to the side, watching as he bends over to do something.

Even from a distance, the man has a fine ass.

“If he’s straight, and has an ass like that, Imma be pissed.” I whisper into the bottle, taking another swallow.

I wonder what they would feel like. Gripping them in my hands as he fucks me.

A shiver goes down my spine at the thought. A lazy smile on my face as I continue to watch him.

Standing back up, he bends over again, grabbing something off the table. He looks frantic, moving things this way and that. Papers flying everywhere.

Finally, he straightens, holding something in his hand. I see his head move, but I can’t tell anything farther from that.

He dashes out of the room. I hear a door slam, another door open, the roar of an engine and another slam.

Well, I guess he found what he was looking for. And I now lost my view.

Damn. I even pulled out the good wine.

~~~

By the time I head out for work the next morning, he is still not home.

I hope he is okay.

The entire drive to work, I can’t help but think something bad happened. He left in such a rush. But the news doesn’t say anything about an accident or anything. Well, other than that the police captured the man that has been terrorizing the city for the past week.

“Hey, Charlie, how are you?” A voice calls out, pulling me from my thoughts. Looking up I see my boss, Peter walking up to me.

“Hey, Peter. I’m good. How are you? How was dinner last night?” I ask, knowing that he had a date with Susan in reception. 

A blush takes over his face as he scratches the back of his neck. “It went okay. She is a little...adventurous.” he chuckles, looking at me, as if to see my reaction.

“Peter, I know we are cool, but I don’t need to know about your sex life.” I laugh as we step into the elevator together, ready to hide in our cave of monitors.

Working in the IT department of a multibillion-dollar company is so glamorous.

“Great friendships start with these kind of conversations Char. We could be amazing.” 

“First, don’t call me Char, I’m not a stripper. Second, can we be friends? You are my boss after all.” I point out as the elevator dings and the doors open, his secretary and my friend, Scarlett standing ready.

“Hey, Charlie! Good morning!” She smiles as she hands a file to Peter before he could walk away. “I saw you, don’t think you can get away with not signing those! I’ll be in your office to collect them in fifteen minutes, old man!” She calls after him.

Peter just mumbles under his breath. Saying how he was going to fire her, like he does every week, and how he isn’t old, “I’m only 35.”

“Why do you do that to him?” I ask, setting my things at my desk, starting up my computer.

“Because he knows he’s hot shit so I feel the need to bring him down.” She says simply, sitting in my chair. “Men are trash, Charlie.”

In the three months I have lived here, Scarlett has been the biggest help and my greatest confidant. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“You are only saying that because when you try to seduce him he looks the other way.”

“No, I say that because he wants to fuck my best friend and I won’t have that.” She gives a pointed look.

I roll my eyes at her, “Peter does not want to sleep with me. I have told you this how many times?”

“Deny it all you want. But one day, he will ask you out. I know it!”

“I love you, Scar, but you are crazy in thinking that.”

She shrugs as she stands, “Crazy in a good way.” Flipping her hair, she flashes a smile, “Have you spoken to your neighbor yet?”

Now it was my turn to blush. “We can talk about it at lunch.” I mumble as she squeals.

“Can’t wait! See you at 12, babe!”

~~~

I flop on my bed, clothes and shoes still on, mind reeling. I can’t help going over mine and Scarlett’s conversation at lunch.

"So, you just watched him?” Her fork halfway to her mouth. “That’s kinda creepy.”

“I know, okay, but I didn’t walk into my kitchen with the intention of watching him. I was there. He was there. The wine was there.”

Scarlet just looks at me, an eyebrow raised.

“What? I didn’t do it on purpose! He is literally never home when I am, how was I supposed to know?”

“But you still stayed and watched him...”

“He has a great ass?” She looks at me, erupting in laughter.

“Fuck, I’m so creepy.” I mumble to myself, rubbing my face with my hands. With a groan, I drop my hands. “Okay, Charlie, you are going to get up, take off these heels, skirt and shirt, and draw a nice relaxing bath.” I hum at the thought. “With the good wine.”

Sitting up, I look around the room. 

I should really finish unpacking.

I stand as I pull my hair from the evil confines of the rubber band holding it at bay. Kicking off my shoes next, I work the zipper of my skirt, letting it pool to my feet. I turn toward the bathroom, turning the faucet on and stopping the tub, watching as the water begins to slowly fill it.

“Oh, almost forgot the wine!” Walking out, I start unbuttoning my shirt, stopping only to reach for the bottle. “Much better. Now. We relax my friend.” Pulling the cork out, I bring the bottle to my nose, inhaling the sweet smell. 

Bottle in one hand, the other running through my hair, I walk toward my room when there is a knock on the door.

I really don’t wanna.

Knocking continues, a little harder this time.

With a sigh, I turn back around and head for the door, swinging it open.

I am met with a man that has dark curly hair and dull blue eyes. 

That seem to brighten the longer they stare at me.

Huh. Oh.

It is only then, do I realize that I just answered the door in panties, my shirt halfway button down, cleavage on full display and mussed hair.

Leaning against the door, I ask, “What kind of sugar are you looking for, neighbor?”

Good start? Feedback is appreciated!

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