#not that it's particularly likely but just in case

[grison-in-space]

... Sometimes as a scientist I'm mystified by the Internet, okay. Like, this contention (parental neglect can fuck with sexual response by virtue of fucking with emotional attachment and processing) is actually not particularly Freudian: Freud isn't just "your emotional experiences in deep childhood affect sex," his ideas were specifically rooted in his ideas about unconscious and superconscious drives. That is, he made repeated claims about mechanism that are not substantiated by evidence, which is the bit where he went well off the rails.

In any case, a quick Google Scholar pass for modern, up to date research in the field reveals that OP is perfectly correct that early parental neglect can result in sexual dysfunction and dysregulation, and sexual dysfunction is very much entangled in developmental experiences. There has been relatively little work on orgasm itself because funding agencies are weird and twitchy about the topic, but the general gist of OP's point is fairly well supported behaviorally: kids whose parents openly do not love them generally grow up to be people with some degree of sexual dysfunction.

If y'all would actually like to understand the science here, Becoming Attached by Robert Karen is an excellent overview of the history of attachment theory and how psychologists slowly realized that developmental attachment is really, really important for children. It's not specifically focused on orgasm, but it does discuss in depth exactly how important developmental attachment and security are for psychological connection in humans. Notably, it walks the reader through the work and evidence of psychologists that delved into the importance of early emotional connection and support, including Bowlby, Ainsworth, and I believe a dash of Harlow. Yes, sexual dysfunction after developmental neglect, especially extreme developmental neglect, is a common theme.

Love at Goon Park by Deborah Blum is another good book that walks you through Harlow's early work—you know, the wire mother/towel mother guy?

Come As You Are by Emily Nagoski is an excellent book about all the reasons that orgasm can be difficult for many people; importantly, emotional safety and security are crucial factors that she mentions again and again.

Y'all have got to move beyond Psych 101 when it comes to understanding what is and is not evidence based when we talk about human behavior, okay?

Human psychosexual development is so fucking stupid. Imagine having to explain to a sex partner that the reason you can't cum is because your mom didn't like holding babies.

[solxamber]

Hey, I love your writing! For the holiday event could I have Heartslabyul, 9 "How did you get up there?" Comedy, please? Happy Holidays!

Red-Handed || Riddle Rosehearts

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "How did you end up there?" ; Genre: Comedy

Riddle had seen a lot in his time as housewarden, but finding his significant other dangling from a rose bush like a confused koala was a new one.

“How...did you get up there?” he asked, voice cracking midway between outrage and sheer bafflement.

You, perched halfway up the bush with a paintbrush in one hand and red paint smeared across your face like a war cry, blinked innocently. "Uh. Surprise?"

“This is not a surprise," Riddle deadpanned, gesturing to your precarious position. "This is a liability. Explain."

"Okay, okay, hear me out," you started, balancing on a particularly thorny branch. "I thought it’d be romantic to paint the roses red before the unbirthday party! You know, like in the song. ‘We’re painting the roses reeed~!’"

“You do realize I have magic for this exact purpose, don’t you?”

You waved the paintbrush like it was Excalibur. "Sure, but is magic heartfelt? Is it personal? Is it—"

"Safe?!" he interrupted, pointing at the paint can teetering dangerously above your head.

"...Okay, yeah, maybe not."

Riddle took a slow, measured breath, the kind that usually preceded someone losing their temper or fainting. "How did you even get up there without magic?"

“Well,” you said, as if this were the most normal thing in the world, “I found a ladder, but then I accidentally knocked it over while reaching for the top branches. So now I’m, uh...kind of stuck?"

Riddle stared at you, his expression an even split between frustration and amazement. "Unbelievable. Just—stay still. Do not move, do not wiggle, do not breathe too hard. I will get you down."

As he summoned his wand, you called down, “Hey, you’re not mad, right?”

“I’m beyond mad,” he muttered, levitating the paint can first, just in case.

“Aw, but I was just trying to make you happy,” you said with a dramatic sigh.

He froze mid-spell, his eye twitching. "...Are you guilt-tripping me right now?"

“Is it working?”

"Absolutely not." But the faint blush rising to his cheeks betrayed him.

With a sharp flick of his wand, you floated gently to the ground, landing unceremoniously in a puddle of spilled paint.

“Okay, that wasn’t my best work,” you admitted, wiping at your face and somehow smearing more paint.

“You look like you lost a fight with an art supply store,” Riddle said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is exactly why I enforce rules.”

"Rules don’t account for love!" you declared, throwing your arms wide and accidentally flinging paint at a nearby hedge.

Riddle’s eye twitched again. "...Go wash up before I sentence you to replant the entire garden."

"Can I try again later?" you asked hopefully.

"Absolutely not," he snapped, but his lips quirked upward in the tiniest of smiles.

As you walked back to the dorm with him, still red from paint and embarrassment, you couldn’t help but think it was worth it just to see him try not to laugh.

Masterlist

[littlepetcrow]

A personal headcanon, but I like to imagine that while carrying out particularly dangerous contracts post-DATV, a married Rook and Lucanis would ask Davrin to look after/protect their kids in the lighthouse “just in case.”

And Davrin, known affectionately as “Uncle Davrin” by the kids, would let them sleep in his bed with him if they got scared, or when the days start to stretch on and on and the kids start to worry they’ll never see their parents again. (Davrin reassures them by telling them stories of the time Rook fought an archdemon, or not one but two blighted dragons, and the time Lucanis stabbed a literal god, so it would take a lot more than some bumbling antaam to kill them.)

And maybe, sometimes, other members of the Veilguard would drop by the lighthouse just because they do, and they would help entertain and cook for the kids while they’re there, and Davrin has unique codewords and pass-phrases with everyone to make sure they’re really who they say they are and not, you know, a demon in disguise.

And always, before Rook leaves, Davrin promises he’ll take care of the kids no matter what happens, but nothing will happen, of course, because Rook will come back. They have to come back. And Lucanis is too stubborn to die. Everything will be fine.

And everything is fine, until one night, maybe a few weeks into a contract that was only supposed to take a few days, when Davrin discovers one of the kids has a letter addressed to him. And he reads it, even though he’s not supposed to. Because it’s a will, and Rook and Lucanis have left everything to Davrin, so he can take care of the kids, and he’s named their guardian in bold black letters, and after seeing that, Davrin is never the same again.

So when Rook and Lucanis finally do come back, a little worse for wear, a little bloody, a little bruised, Davrin hugs them. And that’s just how it is.

Davrin’s friendship with Rook and Lucanis just means a lot to me, okay?

[fushiguruuzzzz]

ALL I WANT 4 CHRISTMAS .ᐟ

What are the jjk & aot boys doing this Christmas season?

Somehow, mistletoe is left in his wake like a trail of breadcrumbs. Nobody knows exactly how he acquired all of this, but as he continues to swerve the advances of anyone else he meets under the green and red decoration, his intent grows more clear. There's also a mysterious bundle of it in his pocket, which he explains as his "just in case" backup. Before you knew it he was taking you by the hand and leading you through the house, much less subtle at scanning the doorways above than he thinks. At first you're oblivious, wondering if someone had spiked his eggnog or something of the sort, but no. When he halts abruptly and you follow his gaze upwards, every oddity of his behaviour makes much more sense.

"Would you look at that? Mistletoe. Wonder how that got there."

You can still feel his proud grin against your lips, even after he kisses you.

⤷ Satoru, Jean

He’s lounging on the sidelines, eyeing you over the rim of his mug as you enjoy the winter day, unaware of his lingering eyes. The hot chocolate sears his tongue, but he can't find it in himself to react. How could he care, when you're laughing across the room? What was so funny? What was so special about those people that prevented you from talking to him? He's got plenty of other people gabbing in his ear, they always end up flocking to him, as odd as it seems. He only feigns interest in their words, but if it were you, he'd hold on to every syllable like they were life's greatest treasure. he'd take note of every shift, of every breath you took. But for now you were across the room and all he could do was stare, frozen in place.

⤷ Suguru, Eren, Toji

Ah, yes. The personification of Christmas, your very own worker elf at your side. Clad in a ridiculously festive sweater and some reindeer antlers, Santa Claus might as well have thrown up on him. You're sure that if it weren't for you, he'd be wrapped in Christmas lights and singing carols on doorsteps. "It's holiday spirit! Don't you like Christmas?" he'd say. He makes you out to be some sort of grump, but you know deep down that he's just a total dork.

⤷ Toge, Yuji, Connie

Your boy isn't one for grand gestures, he never has been. Even around the holiday season, his love is quiet; soft. His chunky sweater wrapped around your shoulders, a steaming mug in your hands because he noticed you were chilly. A batch of sugar cookies made just for you, icing of your favourite colour decorating the tops. A pretty little box with a ribbon tied into a bow (or at least it was supposed to be) atop it, even though you made him promise not to go out of his way more than he already has. He just can't help himself. A photo snapped of you when you're looking particularly docile, just for safe keeping. He looks at his little album of you when you're apart, but he doesn't tell you that part. His affection is a collection of small sweetness, like a box of trinkets filled with the little things you hold dearest to your heart.

⤷ Yuta, Armin

He’s doing all of the sappiest things without even realizing it. Who would expect this big, beefy oaf of a man to be so whipped? “Yeah, those decorations are really pretty. I’d rather look at you, though.” “Sorry for staring, baby. You just look so pretty. If you were the only present under the tree I wouldn’t mind.” He’s buying you reindeer plushies just because they’re cute, and when he gives them to you his eyes shine with something so sweet it’s hard to believe it’s him. So you take them, you accept all of it, every little thing teetering on the fence of cute and corny, because maybe that’s what love does to you.

⤷ Reiner, Choso

You know how I said Toge, Connie, and Yuji are the personification of Christmas? Yeah, he’s the grinch. No, he doesn’t need another candy cane. No, please don’t turn up the radio, if he hears another Mariah Carey song he might implode. It would be easier to hide his disdain if you weren’t so adamant, so pushy for him to “get in the spirits.” Get that damn hat away from him, he tells you he won’t allow himself to be subjected to your childish antics. But when the festive shine in your eyes dulls ever so slightly, when you retreat with a defeated huff, he doesn’t know what changes. He doesn’t understand why, but he knows he doesn’t like it. So he tugs you back with an annoyed huff, grumbling under his breath as he falls victim to your will. He always ends up doing that, somehow. Always ends up at your mercy, even though if it were anyone else he’d have blocked them out long ago.

⤷ Megumi, Levi, Sukuna

He seems like something straight out of a hallmark movie. Okay, maybe he isn’t as cheerful as your picture perfect husband, waltzing around like Buddy the Elf. Maybe he’s got that passive expression on his face, the one that’s just barely grown easier to read over the years you’ve grown to know him. But he’s cooking you meals and massaging your back, he’s sliding you his card over the kitchen counter before he leaves for work and telling you to do something nice for yourself. He doesn’t care, as long as he gets to see the results; see how happy they make you. He trusts you, he trusts that you’re just as his as he is yours, and that means all of his work benefits him just as much as you. Because he gets to see your face light up, see the subtle curl of your lips with every act of service, and knowing he’s the only one is well enough for him.

⤷ Kento, Erwin

a/n — I wrote this randomly at 4am because one of my mutuals asked if I was doing a Christmas special. Yes apparently I am. Also Gojo fit a few of these but I decided on that one :3 I was thinking about doing more fandoms but I’m not 100% confident in my characterizations for hq, hxh (been a HOT minute since I’ve watched), etc. so aot and jjk it is <3 most people are only here for jjk anyway so

[robo-writing]

Can we please get a small one shot with Butch!Logan 😩 I need to know her strap game

Also gonna hijack your ask to drop butch!logan headcanons because i love her 🥹

The worst case of resting bitch face this side of the galaxy. It actually made it super difficult to tell she had a crush on you because every interaction felt like she was silently judging you. (She wasn’t, she was just incredibly nervous and didn’t know how to express it.)

She’s so BIG. BIG THIGHS, BIG ARMS, just BIG.

Again, body hair mention, but it comes in advantage because she’s so fucking warm. Winter’s her favorite season because it means you’ll stick to her like glue when it’s cold outside.

If you’re into makeup, she likes to watch you get dolled up, it’s the highlight of her day. She watches intently as you pull out a big fluffy brush—blush, right?—and gawks at you from the bed as your cheeks become bright and rosey.

You always offer to let her choose your look right before you go out on a date, and while she might not be well versed in color palettes you always make it work, and she loves that about you.

More than anything though, she adores when you let her choose your lipstick. Red’s her favorite, because it’s nice and obvious when you kiss her.

Logan gets a high whenever you ogle her body, she can feel her ego grow each time. Your nails scratching against her abs is a kind of joy she can’t compare to anything else in this world.

She also “accidentally” walks out of the shower nude. Notice the quotation marks.

18+ below

So again, I will die on this hill, the strap game is IMMACULATE.

If she wasn’t talented enough with her fingers and mouth, she wields a strap like it’s a fucking weapon

Likes to tease you with the head, barely stretching you open and yet you’re already shaking.

She’s so much bigger than you, so of course she has to have a strap the same size to compensate.

A solid 6.5 inches of pleasure, girthy enough that it takes some sizeable foreplay before you can even think about taking all of her.

If she’s feeling particularly cruel, she’ll make you lay across her lap and make you suck her off while her fingers massage your g-spot.

“Get me nice and wet honey, gotta make sure my girl’s comfortable, don’t I?”

Even with all that prep you still struggle to take all of it, and Logan’s there to make sure you do.

She knows your limits, and she knows you’ll be a good girl and take it.

You whine about how it’s too big, but it’s alright—she’ll get you used to it soon enough.

She’ll hold you by the neck if you squirm too much, mock you as she feeds your greedy pussy inch by inch, lick your tears clean off your cheeks when you cum just from her bottoming out.

“Why’re you crying doll? I haven’t even fucked you properly yet? Poor thing.”

Her thumb circles your clit in response, tutting at the sight of you whimpering at her touch.

“Don’t look like it’s too much to me,” she grins, watching your pussy grip down like a vice. “Seems like a perfect fit, huh honey?”

[comesatimecomesashadow]

meet the frownies *ೃ༄

pairing *ೃ༄ sunday x reader

fic type *ೃ༄ headcanons, once-shot, comfort

cw *ೃ༄ mentions of mild/severe depression (no mentions of SH or other similar topics)

summary *ೃ༄ sunday takes care of you during your hardest moments.

note *ೃ༄ i've made so many of these for different characters, its crazy | also its my first time writing 4 sunday so don't judge too harshly TwT

masterlist *ೃ༄

ᡣ𐭩 . . Sunday is already reluctant to have you out of his sight for too long, so he notices right away when you’re dealing with a particularly bad episode of depression. Being the attentive lover that he is, he studies up on your condition and equips himself with knowledge to learn how to take care of you and how to approach you during these episodes. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . He isn’t one to beat around the bush and frankly, he hates it when others do too. However, he understands if you don’t want to come with him about your mental issues. He’ll coax you into it sooner or later, you of course, won’t notice. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . Sunday won’t force you to do anything (per sé), he’ll only suggest something and make you feel like it was your choice in the first place. He’ll have the butlers and servants of his mansion tend to you with the utmost care. Craving something sweet? Or perhaps a book to read- maybe pages to color? Chances are, he’s already sent for it. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . If you have a preference for solitude, he assumes that your solitude excludes him. Whether you like it or not, Sunday will always stay at your side during these moments and make sure his dearest isn’t lacking the care they need or putting themselves in danger. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . If you can’t tend to your hair, can’t find your appetite, or just can’t bring yourself to emerge from the confines of the plush bed of your shared room — Sunday will help you care for yourself. While the Head of the Oak Family wouldn’t otherwise find himself doing such things for others, he won’t hesitate to do it for you. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . But as much as he is your lover, that doesn’t mean he isn’t a little twisted. Sunday likes it when you rely on him so in these moments of depression, he’ll find his ego skyrocketing by the way you allow him to help you take care of yourself. 

༝༚༝༚ oneshot under the cut !

   Three days, sixteen system hours and fifteen minutes. 

   That was all the time Sunday needed to realize you were not your usual self. He noticed the despondent gleam in your eyes and the sluggish air that surrounded you as of late. Surely you’d come to him sooner or later.. He didn’t want to scare you with his confrontation and drive you away, you were a fragile thing — You needed patience and loving care. 

   Sunday would bear the weight of the world for you, but even he has limits. 

   As the month passed, your condition only deteriorated which only served to concern him even further. When you left his office after reporting to him, he searched The Family’s archives high and low to learn what he should do to aid you. “-’people who suffer from depression may experience episodes of lethargy, numbness and in severe cases, may even suffer from suicidal ideation. While one cannot cure this condition, depression may be alleviated by understanding company, healthy foods and therapy in severe cases.’..” 

   Should he get you a therapist? Did you need one? Sunday smiled to himself and thought his abilities to be better than any therapist; All you needed was him and he was sure of it. He closed the book promptly and put it back in its place, he’ll have to talk to you later — It was about time that you came to him after dealing with all of that yourself. 

.

.

.

   Later that night, you withdrew to Sunday’s mansion after work. Three years of a relationship with the Head of the Oak family had provided you a warm stay at his residence and you couldn’t be more than grateful — Especially during times like this. Lately, you hadn’t been eating much and you began to get out of bed later than you usually did. The servants only looked at you with concern, but said nothing lest they incur the wrath of Sunday. 

   You sighed upon entering your shared quarters. A moment to breathe and try to collect yourself. The act of going to work and coming back was already a tiring task so you were glad none of the servants asked you anything. You wouldn’t know what to say anyway. 

   The weight on your shoulders felt lessened when you got into your sleeping clothes and crept into the inviting sheets of the king sized bed you slept in. They enveloped you whole and warmed you up after a few moments. You knew what you were going through and after so many years of dealing with it on your own, you’d believed the best remedy was to sleep it off. 

   But Sunday had other plans. 

   When he got home that night, he asked the butler about your whereabouts. After being informed that you had withdrawn to your shared quarters and were asleep, Sunday thanked him and sought you out. He wasn’t sure how he should confront you or let you sleep.. But for now he’d do the latter and address your condition tomorrow. 

   Sunday wasn’t unfamiliar with your current mental state; You were usually like this every few months but it was the first time he had seen it affect you so much. Usually you’d be back to your usual self after about a week or two; This time it had been unusually extended for almost a month. 

   Which is why he was so concerned. 

   When he opened the door, the room inside was dark, as if a black hole had enveloped it whole. The moon outside only served to dimly light the inside of it. As Sunday discarded his work clothes, he was pained upon gazing at your sleeping form. The notable signs of your lethargy were evident by your slow, deep breaths. 

   As he settled in beside you, he adjusted his position so he was spooning you. He was delighted when you turned over to curl into him, a subtle moment of vulnerability he missed seeing in you. He wrapped his arm around you, like a snare encircling its prey. Sunday placed a soft kiss on your forehead before closing his eyes and succumbing to sleep. 

   The rest of the night was quiet and soon after, the morning came. When morning crept up on the both of you, Sunday was the first to get up. Now that there was a little light in the room, he saw the prominent shadows that settled under your eyes. You seemed at peace but tired at the same time. 

   After getting ready for the day, Sunday reached out to cup your cheek to slowly lull you out of your slumber  with his soft touch. He needed you to tell him what was going on, he wouldn’t let it go on any further. After a short while, your lashes fluttered and you awoke with a soft yawn. 

   “You’re here.” You noted as you sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. 

   “Of course I am, dearest. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

   You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes once more, barely awake. “You’re usually at work at this hour.” 

   He smiled a little and lay his head on top of yours. A warmth settled on his heart as he took note of how perceptive you were when it came to him.  “You’re not wrong. But I have more pressing matters to tend to here than at work.” 

   You straightened up and gazed up at him lazily, “Yeah?” 

   He nodded, “Mhm.” 

   “Like what?” 

   He smiled, your curiosity was a thing that never seemed to diminish. “Your state of mind, I’ve noticed you’ve not been well, dearest.” Once you heard his words, you tore your eyes away from his, 

   “Oh.” You played with the fabric of the fluffed up sheets that covered you. “That.” 

   “I’m not going to ask if you’re fine, I know you aren't.” Sunday began, “But I want you to come to me if you’re struggling. I can’t have my lover drowning in their own issues, you know that right?” His voice had a sincere lilt to it. 

   You brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them close, as if to curl up into a ball and hide yourself from the world. Sunday hated seeing you so tired and apathetic, so caged in. 

   Like a dove in a cage. 

   “Dear you know I hate to see you hurting..” He reached out to lift your chin towards him, “Won’t you entrust me with your troubles?” 

   “I’m afraid you can’t fix this one, Sunday..” you muttered quietly. 

   Sunday smiled tenderly, “I’m not trying to fix you, dear. This isn’t something that can be fixed.” You looked up into his eyes, as if you were searching for something in them. Maybe answers.. Maybe comfort. “-But if I can help you feel better, that would be enough for me.” 

   You hadn’t been feeling much in the past few weeks, but for some reason, his words touched your heart. People throughout your life always treated your mental illness like it was a part of you to remain undisclosed, hidden from public view. It was like an interminable mistake; a blot on your person that you could not erase no matter how much you tried to correct it. 

   Sunday noticed the glimmer of emotion in your eyes, it had been a while since he’d last seen you so .. hopeful. While he did like having you rely on him.. He knew this wasn’t good for you. He rubbed your back, “I know you haven’t been eating well, your appetite has been diminishing. But is there anything you’re craving? Even if it’s something small, you should eat, my darling.” 

   You wiped the tears in your eyes that had begun to form. “Uh.. well, ..Can I have something sweet?” Your voice was low, but soft. 

   “My, my.. If you wanted to have me for breakfast you could have just said so, dearest.” He joked. To his satisfaction, you let out a small laugh at his joke. It was the first time in weeks he had seen you smile so genuinely. It wasn’t a fake one, like the one you used at work when greeting your coworkers. “Sweet treats can be arranged. In the meantime, would you like a bath?”

   ‘A bath would seem nice..’ you thought to yourself. But then, you thought about how you’d have to wash every inch of your body, the shampooing and conditioning.. Once you thought about it, it seemed like a chore you didn’t want to get into. And as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, Sunday spoke up once more. “I’m offering, dearest. You’ll just sit back and relax, hm? How about it?” 

   So one nod and a couple minutes later, here you were. 

   The water surrounded your body, the bubbles felt nice around your skin. Sunday was singing what sounded like a lullaby while he gently undid the knots in your hair. Usually, it was a feat to take care of your hair, but Sunday made it feel as if it was no trouble at all. You swore you could fall asleep to the sound of his voice, if he let you. 

   The sweet timbre in his voice came to a stop after he finished the song. “Why did you hold off on telling me about your condition..?” 

   You kept popping the bubbles around you, but at a slower pace. “..I didn’t want to trouble you, I know how busy you can get with the hotel guests and The Family.” 

   Sunday was amused by your thoughtfulness. But it still saddened him, that you rarely trusted him with issues like these. “Dearest, I’ll always make time for you.” Once he finished detangling your hair, he rinsed off the conditioner carefully. Seeing him so focused on you was something you had missed. 

   “I know, I know.. I just didn’t want to bother you with something so trivial..” You honestly thought that it was something you should just deal with on your own. It had worked so well for years, the years before him.. So it should work now, right?

   Sunday moved the stool he sat on to face you. Yellow irises met yours and you think you’ve never seen a man look so ethereal than now. “I know you can handle yourself, but I am your lover. I want to know when you’re feeling distressed, or saddened for the sole fact that, to me, it is anything but trivial. It matters to me.” His words were sincere. You knew it from the way he looked at you when he said them — As if you were the only person in his world. 

   You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for Sunday. “I want you to let me know when you feel like this, okay? I do not want to see you suffering alone. We’ll bear the weight of it together.” 

   A familiar warmth set into your heart upon hearing him. In the many years you’d dealt with your mental condition, you’d never met someone so willing to shoulder the burden that you felt you were, until now. You knew for a fact that Sunday loved you, but hearing it like this and seeing it in his actions was different entirely. 

   Overtaken by your emotions, you sprang out from the tub and wrapped your arms around his neck. The cold air nipped at your skin but you could care less. “I’ll tell you about these things more often, just.. Be patient with me.” 

   Sunday was surprised by your actions at first and he didn’t quite like being wet, but he’d bear it for you. He returned your hug and nodded. 

   “I’ll wait however long it takes.” 

[glitter-stained]

I always feel like a little sad seeing posts about how Jason's character is inherently tragic and that's what makes it good, how him being unloved, a tragic consequence of his own actions, is inevitable, and how that shouldn't change because any change on that regard is a fundamental misunderstanding of his character. Yes, Under the Hood is a tragedy. Yes, Jason survived and for a long time people have been pretty confused at what to do with the character that survives the tragic ending. That doesn't mean he should continue to be trapped in the tragedy, that there's only value in him as long as he's unloved. And maybe that's me preaching and being a party pooper again but the idea that the teenage-to-young adult character with a mental illness that has damaged all his relationships is doomed to be lonely and have bad/upended relationships forever, that he's only good as a character as long as he's hurting others and/or himself (and usually both) and isolated because of this... It's sad, at the very least. I refuse the presumption that tragedies are the only stories wise and worth telling.

Also I personally really dislike the idea that Jason isn't and shouldn't be anyone's favourite, because he made himself nobody's favourite on purpose. Did he make himself a villain on purpose? Fuck yeah. Does any of his early attempts at reaching out to people hurt them? Indubitably. I maintain that this is because he wants to be someone's favourite as he is, at his worst, with his hands covered in blood. And I think he should be. (Without contradicting or damaging, by comparison, the relationships between other characters, that's the tightrope we need to be weary of when making such things, of course.)

It's like this: love, in most relationships, is conditional: you don't owe your friend or your partner to continue to love them if the relationship changes, if you change, if you become violent etc. If my girlfriend started murdering puppies, I would stop loving her. Ideally, however a parent's love for their child is unconditional. That's very often unfortunately not the case, but ideally it'd be, it's really not great for a kid to have zero parents that love them unconditionally. And most importantly, it's not just about actual unconditional love, it's about it being perceived. So it doesn't matter in the debate if Bruce actually loves Jason in spite of the murder, it matters that Jason asks for confirmation of it at the end of UTH and receives a negative answer. (similar arguments to be made about Catherine loving Jason and dying of drug overdose and Willis going to jail and dying - it's the potential perceived abandonment of it that would matter, not their agency and actual love. And it's not a question of whether he would be angry at it so much as that he'd yearn and hurt for it. And of course Sheila didn't love him at all.) That's why he, upon learning about Mia and reaching previously unknown to man levels of projection*, tries to rally her with the hope that, because she's "so similar to him" she would understand him. That's why upon learning about Dick "killing" Blockbuster Jason, again projecting more violently than a bullet, Jason makes Dick into his new favourite person (god, the concept behind BiB has so much potential why did it have to suck so bad...) Anyway, Jason to me is a character with a very intense, very overwhelming conception of love both in who he loves and how, who struggles to understand that other people love and show it differently, and it makes so much sense for him to keep looking for a person who will love him unconditionally (something that's both very rare and not necessarily healthy since, again, most relationships aside from parent-child relationships do not and probably should not include unconditional love). This is particularly interesting in the context of him having bpd (again, using bpd because i'm focusing on the interpersonal dimension that's been mostly studied within that frame) because BPD often functions around a vicious circle of "is afraid of rejection/abandonment -> does maladaptive behaviour in attempt to prevent rejection/abandonment OR protect oneself by being the one to leave first" which is what leads to the instability in relationships. It's a doomed prophecy: i have maladaptive patterns that make me think my girlfriend is gonna leave me at any time, I keep demanding to see her phone, assuming she's cheating everytime she leaves and thus demonizing her even though I was glorifying her five minutes earlier" then she's going to leave me, which is gonna reinforce my thought pattern that everyone always leaves me. But that also means that in rare instances in which the other person in the interact, for whichever reason, sticks around through that, then these incorrect thought patterns begin to change through the sheet logic of extinction: if i think that people always leave me because of something fundamentally wrong with me and people don't leave then eventually the idea that people are doomed to abandon/reject me is going to lose its power. That's, btw, an important part of why therapy works.

(*that one's a joke, btw. He's not projecting onto mia and dick to levels impossible to mankind, just pretty intensely. Very human levels of projection, might I add'. Just to clarify.)

Now, be mindful: I'm not saying make Jason an abusive boyfriend. I'm not saying put him in a relationship where the other stays because they're afraid of him, that's not unconditional love or acceptance that's just fear. Of course, the ideal version of it would be Jason goes to therapy but because dc hates me specifically this is never gonna happen, but imagine him being in a relationship, romantic or otherwise, with someone who is as intense and "unwell" about him as he is about them. I'm not saying it would fix him (again, get him so goddamn therapy jfc) but it would change him. And just as it doesn't have to be healthy it doesn't have to be tragic.

I was asked a while ago my thoughts on Jason's current stagnancy as a character and if I thought he could become interesting again, and I said yes and talked about the directions I dream would be explored with his character and their potential. My answer hasn't changed, and it's completely compatible with this, but I will add: I think Jason as a character has largely and for long enough been defined through his yearning to be somebody's favourite, and that if you want his mode of interacting with others and dynamic with different characters to change then this is a very logical way to do it. And it would make a lot of sense for it to be the catalyst for other changes in his character (ie in his name or philosophy).

Get that boy into a super intense long-term codependent situationship, is what I'm saying. Please.

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Scream Blue Murder

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 6.6k TYPE: Break up & Make up, Humor primarily, Light Angst(??), Argument Resolution, Birthday and Christmas fic WARNING(S): None ?

Excitement is bubbling up inside of Ness’s whole being. Maybe this would be a dramatic sentiment coming from anyone else, but in his case it’s not an exaggeration.

The cause of this excitement is, to others, a given. But again in the circumstances of Ness’s upbringing, a Christmas celebration with actual people instead of a guilty ritual in his head is unique. Because of the overwhelming pseudo intellectualism permeating his childhood circumstances (which, while, yes, his parents are well educated scientists, and he can acknowledge their acuity to an extent, a lot of their conventions were in fact arbitrary and ridiculous), Christmas was banned in his home. Among other things.

It was very uncomfortable in hindsight and this choice led to potent social alienation among his peers, and might have even contributed to the isolation he suffered in adolescence.

There were times where, for example, before Christmas break, his class would do gift exchanges. He wasn’t allowed to participate and neither was he allowed to skip, so he had to sit there every year and endure the whole process of disappointing his Secret Santa buddy by not bringing anything — which is humiliating enough — and then carry the knowledge that he’ll have to throw out what he got later too, if found. And to be honest, Ness was the type of person who always ended up being found out by his parents.

He couldn’t even play pretend with his classmates in peace when he was in elementary school. Looking back on it, that has to be a little excessive.

But anyway. Bastard München Christmas day trip with teammates and Kaiser’s birthday all-in-one combo. Yay.

Of course, there was a choice to opt out and go back home to see family, which annoying people like Yoichi took because he presumably has a support system or whatever, but what’s important is that Kaiser is here with him on this day.

Ness doesn’t need much from Kaiser to be happy, he reassures himself, just breathing alongside each other is enough. The reason he’s pondering this to begin with is that Kaiser forbade him from even buying him a present (Ness wasn’t so optimistic to think he’d receive one, but he can’t even give?) — again, a little excessive, but isn’t everything in his life…

Since Kaiser went over to your place last night the last he heard from him, Ness is a little surprised to see you standing with your arms crossed near the bus, waiting by your lonesome. No Kaiser in sight. You look a bit grumpy and disheveled, too.

Ness decides not to think too much about it as all the attending teammates start showing up one by one.

Even Kaiser, who has trouble waking up in the morning, makes it before the designated time somehow. Though upon his arrival, much to Ness’s confusion he doesn’t look as impeccable as usual, plagued by puffy eyes and a red nose.

Is the cold being particularly unkind to him? Ness tries to explain the sight to himself.

The second oddity is that instead of joining your side like expected, he struts up to Ness and stands there. His posture is stiff and his facial expression more irritable than yours had been.

Is Kaiser choosing him over you? Is this the so-called Christmas miracle his parents didn’t believe in?

Trying to seem casual and not unhinged with ecstasy, Ness says, “Good morning, Kaiser.”

“Morning.”

“Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” Kaiser replies in an ungrateful tone.

Well, he is not giving him much to work with, but all things in life come at a price. Ness doesn’t let Kaiser’s shitty attitude dampen his spirits. If such a thing were enough to ward him off, he supposes maybe he’d be in a better place, both mentally and in his career. But because he is who he is, he just lets his lips curl up in his usual turtle smile and stands there waiting to get on the bus, hands clasped behind his back as he gives off this vague aura of sparkling.

___

Kurona is sleepy.

It’s no good they decided to take off at five in the morning, but he can doze off on the bus, he supposes, and when he looked it up last night, it seemed that the drive would be long.

He is among the first to enter and sits down to dutifully wait for Hiori.

These plans are disrupted when you plop down next to him instead, but Kurona kind of doesn’t care enough to protest or ask you to move. You don’t talk with him much otherwise.

He assesses how comfortable the seat is while you untangle your earphone wires. It seems to give you a bit of trouble, but Kurona is too shy to offer his help, so he settles on staring at your movements deadpan.

Kaiser and Ness decide to take the seats in front, but he pays them no mind. Now that he thinks about it, shouldn’t you be sitting with Kaiser instead? He expects Kaiser to maybe make some catty remark about this transgression, yet it never comes.

Instead he peers at you from the crack between his seat and Ness’s in this unsettling sort of way. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, or at least Kurona thinks so, but maybe it’s his sleep deprived imagination. Besides, when is Kaiser not being creepy.

He crams his arm into the space somehow and puts up his middle finger.

You blink in surprise at first because of the sudden intrusion, then scowl and roll your eyes while Kaiser retrieves the offending arm and glares at you again.

“Stop making your rectal myopia everyone else’s problem,” you say as if this is some ongoing discussion and Kurona is catching you in the middle of a conversation. Which is kind of weird, since he’s pretty sure you and Kaiser haven’t spoken a single word to each other the entire morning prior to this.

“Oh yeah, and you’re The Virgin of Guadalupe,” says Kaiser with a hateful huff, before turning back around. Somehow he manages to put a lot of attitude into this motion.

Rectal myopia? The Virgin of Guadalupe?

Trouble in paradise for the couple. Tragedy, tragedy.

Despite the weirdness of what transpired, Kurona decides he doesn’t care and flutters his eyes closed without trouble. He dreams about riding a shark back to Japan.

___

The drive takes seven hours and less than thirty minutes, which according to the tour leader was ‘quick’.

Berlin seems greener and more cosmopolitan than Munich to Hiori, but then again he’s a nobody and he’s an expert in nothing, which he is also quite content with. The group makes it to the hotel they’ll be doing a one night stay in and there is scheduled rest time until some activities in a few hours.

Hiori is having to room with Kurona and Yukimiya, who decide to take it easy. In all honesty he’s a bit bored. His late nights staying up and playing online grant him immunity to this type of malaise, so he decides to go out and walk around by himself, possibly wander off outside even if it’s not the wisest choice.

This trek leads him down to the lobby, where he sees you having some long winded conversation with the receptionist. Though to her face you seem amicable and accepting of the outcome regarding whatever you were requesting, once you turn around so your back is on her, it’s obvious you are seething.

Out of boredom, Hiori approaches. Kind of gingerly as if skirting around a land mine. “What’s up? Did something happen?”

“I got put in a room with Michael and Alexis.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“No, it isn’t. I was asking them if I can pay to go somewhere else, but the girl said no.”

“Huh? Wait, why? Isn’t Kaiser your boyfriend? Shouldn’t you be happy about that?”

“No, I'm not happy. He’s an ass, and he’s ungrateful, and he’s mean, and he looks like a mop. The first adult case of anencephaly, surely.”

Hiori blinks, continuing to smile with his insect eyes wide open and peering into your soul. “What?”

“It’s like a longer way of saying he doesn’t have a brain,” you explain in a rush. Then you wrap a scarf around your neck and move as if you’re about to leave the lobby.

“Going somewhere?”

“I will be back before the ‘activity’.”

“No power nap?”

“No.”

“D’ya wanna sleep with me, Yukimiya and Kurona in our room tonight? If you’re fighting with Kaiser and they ain’t letting you move.”

“I’ll think about it and tell you later, if you don’t mind.”

Hiori continues smiling, and sends you off with a smooth and somehow delicate wave of his hand.

___

Yukimiya is in a pleasant mood. Like, he’s not too happy, but he’s experiencing mild contentment. He’s also pretty sure Hiori is fucking with Kaiser on purpose, same deceptive and listless smile on his face as always. They’re kind of similar in that way.

They’ve gathered in a circle, the three of them because he doesn’t really get on with anyone else, waiting for everyone to arrive so they can head off to one of Berlin’s Christmas markets. Kurona is quiet as usual, not offering much to the conversation (though he doesn’t need to since his presence by itself is generally appreciated) while Hiori and Yukimiya talk. He’s not even sure Kurona is listening to be honest, but he wouldn’t blame him if he weren’t.

And Kaiser is glaring at the back of Hiori’s head.

“So they were asking to go to another room, but the receptionist refused, so I offered to let them stay with us. Y’all don’t mind, right?”

“No trouble, no trouble,” Kurona allows with a blank face and even tone, displaying his generosity.

Yeah, he’s definitely doing it on purpose. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been talking about it so much — Hiori must be getting a kick out of pissing Kaiser off. Yukimiya doesn’t believe for a second that he’s oblivious to the holes Kaiser’s staring into his head. Hiori is not stupid, and everyone can tell by now you and your boy toy have been having some kind of fight, and it’s obvious neither of you is happy about it despite clinging to the conflict.

Yukimiya closes his eyes and joins Hiori in on the blithe smiling ritual. Because he’s feeling pleasant today, and then he adds, “I guess if they accept, they can pick who to share the bed with.” Of course such a thing is unlikely to happen, but it’s not fair that only Hiori is getting to further sour Kaiser’s mood.

Yukimiya glances at Kaiser, who looks like he is about to shit himself in anger, for about a second and then focuses his attention back on Hiori in front of him. The sky is pure white and the ground is coated in snow. Today is a good day.

___

The Christmas marketplace afternoon is not turning out to be any fun. Gesner is regretting going. He’s sure everyone else is regretting going, actually — it’s like a lame school trip, but he’s not twelve anymore, so he can’t enjoy it at all.

There aren’t any baddies around to flirt with anyway, just mothers with children who probably don’t want anyone to bother them during the bustle of this commercialist holiday nightmare.

To make himself feel better, he engages in some recreational complaining about all the first world problems he’s had today while walking around all the vendors with the rest of the group.

“And I’ve got a crick in my neck because the fucking bus seats were not comfortable at all. Not to mention waking up at four is inhumane. Seriously, who funded this shit,” he says.

Grim has this solemn expression on, staring at Gesner with pensive sadness and a vague sense of understanding. If he were speaking to anyone other than Grim, maybe it would’ve been encouraging, but this is Grim’s default state of being and not a unique comprehension of how grave and serious Gesner’s frustrations are, so it’s kind of whatever.

“Also,” continues Gesner regardless, “Kaiser and the manager are being such annoying dick cheeses, arguing like little kids. Passive aggressive babies. Should’ve stayed back in Munich if you ask me.”

“So immature,” Grim says, still dour.

“I’m right behind you,” Kaiser pipes up.

Gesner clicks his tongue and talks over Kaiser, addressing Grim still. “You’re such a smegma too. Fuck you all.”

“Love is withering and fading all around on the day of the Messiah’s birth. How hilarious and yet poignant.”

“Seriously, shut the fuck up.” At the same time, “Stop talking about me like I’m not here you fucking lowlifes.”

“During my silence you will hear nature’s white noise as spirits mourn us in festivity.”

“Oh my god. You’re just saying random words, dick cheese.”

Gesner stomps away and gets lost somewhere else in the crowd. He doesn’t bother to turn around and apologize or otherwise acknowledge Kaiser’s existence.

___

It’s not the best thing in the world. Kiyora is bored, but he’s bored most days, so it’s not exceptionally horrible either. Even as a child, he wasn’t the type to get excited about Christmas, so there isn’t even any lost novelty. It’s all just bland and not special at all to him, though he admits he doesn’t mind getting free shit no matter the season.

There is an ice rink, so he thinks to try and pull off break dancing, but a dent forms in his plans when you approach him.

“I don’t know how to skate,” you say, in place of a greeting.

Not knowing what to do with this information and without seeing how it’s relevant to him, Kiyora replies with, “‘Kay.”

“Can I… Like… With you?”

He is annoyed, but doesn’t betray it with any unnecessary facial twitches or even with an attitude. Well, you’re the manager, so he supposes he can humor you.

He pulls you along with him, not letting you stay glued to the railing because then that would mean he’d have to be like that, too. Maybe if he were more considerate he’d be slow and gentle, but he doesn’t want to skate like that, so he just drags you along while you’re clumsy on your feet.

You don’t even chat. But it’s not uncomfortable or tense to be so silent — at least to him. Things of the sort don’t bother him. He’s immune to secondhand embarrassment and awkwardness. Besides, you’ve been in a mood ever since he first saw you in the morning and there has been no improvement, so he doubts you even want to talk to him.

Though the fact that it’s not uncomfortable doesn’t mean it’s fun. It’s boring like most other things. Everything’s just boring to him most of the time when there is no conflict.

Kiyora flings you into a more complex skating sequence which without much of his support doesn’t work out and you end up tripping and falling on your face. Without a care or a second thought, he skates away from you while you groan in pain to try kick spinning on ice.

___

Something that Ness always admired in Kaiser ever since meeting him is that despite his obvious unhappiness, he’s in control of himself. He holds himself with dignity, cold and calculated. Despite everything Ness really likes that difficult and aloof personality, how he can’t get quite close to him.

But he’s just- different. Nowadays.

It’s not like, a new thing. Kaiser changes all the time, if necessary, an intentional change or a product of someone else’s prodding.

Today he is mopey, bitter and annoying even to Ness’s sensibilities. It’s a big achievement, all things considered, since at one point Ness considered himself impervious to Kaiser’s faults. But Kaiser… won’t stop complaining, won’t stop talking about you, and it’s walking on his last nerve.

Why is he so fucking whiny? Like truly, why? Has he always been like this and Ness just didn’t see it somehow or what? Did you put some spell on him to make him so desperate and pathetic?!

Even now he’s trying to help Kaiser ice skate and he just keeps turning around to glare at you and Kiyora and is overall not listening to anything Ness is telling him, plagued by uncharacteristic absentmindedness, but Ness keeps his stubborn smile in place anyway. No one can defeat him when he sets his mind to do something. Not even Kaiser himself can get in his way of enjoying Christmas with Kaiser, and that’s final.

Or at least that’s what he thinks until the accident happens where you slip and Kiyora leaves you there.

Despite not having the slightest idea, Kaiser lets go of Ness rather brazenly and tries to go and help you up — maybe with the thought this would be a good reconciliation opportunity — but follows suit and falls face first even harder than you did.

Ness stares.

This is it. A monumental moment, something thought impossible before, a mark in history.

… Alexis Ness got the ick from his beloved Kaiser.

Yukimiya ends up helping you up, gallant in a way Kaiser could only be in his imagination. Of course Ness helps him up anyway (such a good samaritan, considering his earlier epiphanies), and you two end up with matching scratches over your foreheads and noses, which makes both of you look about as idiotic as you are.

Ness is fuming.

But he continues to smile — he’s getting kind of concerned for himself if he has to be honest.

___

This marketplace has the biggest Christmas pyramid in Europe inside of it. It’s the kind of thing Ness used to imagine as a kid, so he owes it to himself to go in no matter what. There seem to have been a lot of ‘no matter what's’ involved for him today, as if he’s off to a warzone instead of a fucking Christmas trip with his team, but whatever.

Kaiser doesn’t even give the giant Christmas decoration a glance, too deep into his complaining to pay attention to much of anything. “I didn’t even want to come,” he says, amid the other problems he’s verbalized (except for the most important one, of course, which is that he’s feeling like a wounded animal over whatever you two fought about).

“Then- Then why did you?” asks Ness. Though he thinks Kaiser deserves a bit of snark for ruining the whole day for him, his confusion is also genuine. He knows Kaiser prefers to be in solitude on his birthday, and he’s not festive at all.

“It was just supposed to be different.”

“Well, um, okay.” Ness shuffles in place and looks over to the Christmas pyramid again. It’s gotten dark now, so the glow of its jovial lights makes it appear even more striking. You seem to be heading there, but Ness doesn’t think much of it, trying to voice a desire for once in his life. “I wanna go in and check out the wine.”

Kaiser narrows his eyes, then does his little frown. “I’m not going. Do I look twelve?”

Ness inhales. Seriously, he just wants one thing. He gets it, Kaiser’s having a shit time, but does he need to make it sound like only a stupid child would want to go after Ness voiced the simplest, most mundane wish someone could fucking have at such an event?

Does the planet need to stop spinning just because Kaiser is in a mood?

Huffing and scrunching his nose, he says, “Well, I’ll go by myself then.”

“Suit yourself.”

And he does. In a show of independence and perhaps spite, Ness takes off into a half jog and catches up to you. Kaiser is glaring at him from behind and he can feel it, but he doesn’t care. He’s sitting down next to you and having that mulled wine and that’s final — Kaiser can throw a tantrum about it if it’s so important. Outside. All alone.

God, he’s all guilty and pitying him now, temper fizzling out, but decides to stand on his decision to leave Kaiser to sulk like a scolded puppy by himself.

Ness takes the spot next to you after getting his drink. You seem a bit surprised by his appearance, but try not to let it show and he can still tell anyway.

He won��t ask.

He’s not going to ask what you fought about with Kaiser that’s got him all out of control.

Ness clears his throat and breaks the tentative silence with an awkward question. “So, um, are you enjoying the trip?”

“It’s alright. How about you?”

“Yeah, it’s been great.”

Wow, you two are such shameless liars. Bad at small talk too.

After the initial discomfort, Ness falls into a more normal conversation with you. The jolly music in the background is pleasant, at least to him, and in the avoidance of the topic of Kaiser, he actually gets to speak with you about himself as an individual. He realizes now throughout this that he’d almost forgotten what it’s like.

___

Kaiser’s skin is flushed pink, since it’s so cold outside, and his hair looks mysteriously even worse than usual, probably because of the wind. For someone whose favorite season is winter, it doesn’t seem to do him any favors.

Whatever.

Gesner watches, mildly disturbed, as Kaiser gobbles down his third bratwurst like it personally offended him.

He takes a sip of his shitty overpriced beer that he bought from the same food stall Kaiser got his dinner from. But it’s fine, he doesn’t need to sweat how he can buy the same brand from the supermarket ten minutes away from his house for a few euros cheaper, he has professional athlete money now. No biggie.

After some internal seething over this stupid beer he’s drinking, Gesner says, “So, why don’t you just apologize?”

“Apologize for what? I have nothing to apologize for.”

“Stop being such a dickweed. You’re making everyone uncomfortable.”

“I don’t care if you morons are uncomfortable. And why do you immediately assume I was the one in the wrong?”

“Well, we all know who the more reasonable between the two of you is, so I’m making an educated guess on who started it, whatever it was.”

“Nothing you ever do is educated.”

Kaiser rubs his forehead and sniffs as if the weather is giving him a runny nose, looking all despondent and offended at the same time. This is probably an attack to his sensibilities since he prides himself on being rational, but whatever. Gesner finds this whole ordeal so pathetic, and not in a cute way.

“Ok, do you seriously not care that you ruined it all for Ness? It’s not fun walking around with a wet jerkoff choking on his own angst all Christmas.”

“Listen, I get it, poor Ness. Whatever. But why do I need to force myself to act like nothing’s wrong? It’s my birthday. I’m not some monkey he hired to dance and smile with him if I’m not feeling it. Fuck Ness. Stop whining to me about fucking Ness. He can go fuck himself, no one made him hang around me the entire day if he hates it so much.”

Gesner rolls his eyes. “You’re so obnoxious,” he says.

“Go worry about how you hit on a single mother in front of her kid and the kid made fun of you,” Kaiser snaps.

Gesner takes one more long sip out of the beer can and stares up at the sky, trying to erase the memory of that incident from his head, while Kaiser finishes off the last of his sausage. He could abandon the conversation here, he supposes, go seek more pleasant company, but everyone’s always so acquiescent to Kaiser. No one ever gives it to him straight.

“I’m just saying- I don’t know if you get off on making yourself and everyone around you miserable or something, but this is ridiculous. It’s not making you happy, clearly, and your birthday’s ruined. Just make up with [Y/n] and apologize to Ness too. It’s not that hard.”

Kaiser heaves a theatric, long suffering sigh. “Fine. You’re right.”

Despite his bouts of pride and bullheadedness, Kaiser can admit when someone is making an actual point. Gesner never thought he’d be a name on the list of people who’ve schooled Kaiser, but it feels kinda good.

He picks his one liner to end the conversation, a final and critical utterance to symbolize his verbal victory: “Dick cheese.” 

God, he loves saying that.

___

There are so many fairy lights, it’s almost an eyesore.

Grim is walking around along with you and Ness after joining somewhere along the way since Gesner abandoned him. Woe is him. He cannot even shroud himself in darkness because of holiday beautification all over the city. Such merry roistering in a place full of crisis and misery, what with homelessness being so prevalent here. Exuberance can only exist and shine off of someone else’s back…

But Grim has always been fascinated by this sort of dichotomy, the way it follows all facets of life. It’s easy for him to apply his philosophy with its flexibility when he wants to see it, which is all the time. So he also makes everything about his beliefs all the time.

So, the fact that you’ve been having this relationship drama with Kaiser today of all days, intrigues him.

He lets out a bemused wail and clutches at his forehead like a maiden, halting in the middle of the sidewalk. You and Ness stop and look at him curiously.

Grim stares into your eyes. It’s intense, but you don’t flinch. Ness drags his shoe across the ground even though nothing is stuck to it and shuffles in place, jacket making noises along with the movement.

Finally, Grim places his hand on your shoulder, gripping tight. His declaration is dramatic. “You have a kind of frigidity I admire.”

You raise a curious eyebrow.

Grim continues gazing at you with his strangely wet, dark eyes. His pensive delivery continues. “Most people don’t have it in them to ignore and shittalk their boyfriend on his birthday, but you do. You’re coldhearted.”

“Hey, don’t instigate,” says Ness with a worried frown on his face. Poor thing, probably getting irritated that this shit keeps following him around, but what was he thinking going from Kaiser to you.

“I’m not trying to be cold or whatever. I just- you know, it’s about sticking to your principles.”

This isn’t helpful information considering no one knows what this mystical argument was even about. Grim doesn’t care what it was about either and Ness is sick of it, so he won’t inquire either in his hopes of cutting the topic short.

In these circumstances, the silence festers.

Your expression mirrors Ness’s as concern seems to dawn on you while you stare at him. “It’s not too harsh, is it?”

“Well, he wasn’t handling it well,” Ness admits.

“But what am I supposed to do when he’s not budging?!” You string the words together in a haste, fishing for sympathy or confirmation that you were in the right despite what seems like a vague amount of regret setting in.

…

Grim and Ness stare.

“I can’t just let him walk over me because it’s his birthday!”

They glance at each other then back at you and start nodding solemnly in tandem while letting out a few ‘fair’s here and there.

“Maybe I could’ve been kinder, but it’s a matter of principle! I wasn’t thinking clearly, since I was angry! It’s not like Michael is the only one in the world allowed to… to get angry and stop thinking straight. And we all make mistakes. Right? Right?”

The two of them still don’t even know what you did or why you’re trying to justify it so vehemently, but Grim assumes you’re more so reasoning with yourself rather than them. Ness displays the body language of someone whose skin is crawling.

“Misery on Christmas creates such a beautiful juxtaposition,” Grim says, wiping at his forehead again even though the temperature is in the negatives.

You roll your eyes.

Ness checks the time on his phone and fakes dismay over ‘cutting the walk short’ before suggesting heading back to the group meeting spot.

___

Kaiser would never admit it out loud, but he’s quite emotionally fragile and volatile at times. He’s been on edge all day to everyone’s notice, but now even more so on the way back, preparing to apologize or to beg if necessary (though honestly pulling out all the theatrics when wanting to reconcile in kind doesn’t seem like the brightest idea).

After some reflection, he has come to terms with the truth about the argument. Throughout the day he victimized himself in his memories, but it’s not the full picture. Of course Kaiser doesn’t care about painting himself in a virtuous light to his own imagination — being that he enjoys aggrandizing himself through malice — but more so to forget how the whole thing spiraled from a pathetic, wounded kind of spot in his psyche.

He went over to spend the night at your place last night, and then you were supposed to get to the bus before the trip together, but it didn’t happen according to plan.

When it struck midnight and the twenty-fourth became the twenty-fifth you were both still awake watching some pretentious French arthouse movie about an abused donkey which he pretended he picked out at random and not from an ‘intellectual movie list’ he looked up in advance.

Your alarm went off in the middle of the circus scene, and you wrapped your arms around him, gave him a few kisses on his face, then wished him a happy birthday.

Kaiser admits that his knee jerk reaction was irritation, but he held it in and granted you an awkward thanks, squeezing your waist as he returned the embrace.

But then you went off to get the cake you got him and his gift and he kind of freaked out. Not because they were bad, but because you know he hates surprises and he hates celebrating his birthday and why he hates being caught off guard so much to begin with, but went ahead and did it anyway. And, yeah, Gesner was right, he started it — he made some disparaging remark about how you should’ve known better and kept this shit to yourself.

You started digging into him too though, for his reactions, so he bit at you in response, then you refused to back down and it escalated into one of those things where it was more of an insult exchange than a real discussion. Many times you both twisted facts not merely about this instance of disagreement but about the relationship itself, petty and mean.

Kaiser realized he was being a bit ridiculous because he was goading you, and on purpose. He could’ve stopped and done damage control, but made the choice not to. In that moment he wanted to act as ugly as he could and have you accept him and love him in spite of it, so he kept making his own grave, and the more you mouthed off to him and dissected his faults too instead of just taking it, the more he felt hurt and rejected, and the more he lashed out as a result.

Then “Maybe we should just break up then!” flew out of your mouth. He accepted it with a sneer to your face, but really he knew it was mostly his fault, so he cried all night and choked himself before he ended up hollow and empty. He felt like shit and worse, he made you feel like shit too and he let it go on for too long.

He had his reasons for his gripes about the birthday celebration, but he should’ve communicated that more sensibly instead of expecting you to keel over and praise him in the face of his berating. His behavior spurred yours and your response to him spurred him to take it further, but it doesn’t mean he was right. All things considered the beginning of the stupid fight definitely wasn’t something worth losing you over.

But how does he fix it? He said a hundred things he didn’t mean last night and toyed with your temper, tried your sense of self-respect to try and fill the black hole inside of him, always seeking affirmation and reassurance. Please never leave me. Please accept me and coddle me no matter what I do because there are times when I can’t understand anything else. Please love me senselessly.

Which — apparently you’re not willing to do, and that was the cause of his whole dramatic distress. Though it’s probably a good thing how your love is somewhat conditional. Kaiser is glad, in a weird way, that you didn’t let him trample all over you without retaliation.

Do you even want him to try and make nice with you?

He can’t stop thinking about it. To whatever extent and in whatever way he’s capable of, he’s so smitten with you, but this isn’t an oopsie daisy situation where he can brush it off to the side and hope you can forget, what with how out of line he was.

It’s not even something he wants. He wants to say sorry and make proper amends after all this nonsense.

The group is making its way inside the hotel after stepping off the bus when he asks you to stay outside and talk.

You cross your arms and look at him, not seeming too pleased, but more willing to be in his presence than before. “What now?”

“I just…” He runs a hand through his hair and looks off to the side, ignoring your vexed tone. Despite his many mental rehearsals on the ride back, Kaiser never really figured out what to say. “I fucked up so bad. You were trying to be sweet and I acted histrionic and crazy and insulted you over something so dumb, just because I hate surprises and whatever else dumb reasoning I had. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Can we just… I don’t know, talk about it? I understand if you want to split, but I don’t, and I just wanna say I’m sorry for being unreasonable and… and fucking disrespectful and an ingrate too.”

A flash of surprise appears on your face, as if you hadn’t expected him to apologize, let alone to approach you first about it. Outside of that, he can’t judge what you think about it. His palms are sweaty and the silence, the longer it goes on, seems like it’ll crush in on him, a metaphorical weight, as if he’ll crumble under a mass of nothing.

“Oh, so you admit you were an ingrate?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an ingrate and you’re always right.” It sounds sarcastic, but he’s trying to have a sense of humor about it.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the birthday thing too… I know you don’t like them-”

“No, no, don’t do that. It doesn’t matter how much I hate them. I could’ve said that like a normal person. Really. I’m sorry.”

“Alright, and… and, uh, I said some nasty things too. About you.”

“Yeah but, fuck, I was insulting you first. I don’t even care anymore, honestly. About you making me a surprise when I hate them and about whatever you said. I didn’t even mean all that shit I was spewing at you, I just- felt hurt and wanted to hurt you back, and it was fucked up of me, and I’m sorry.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry for hurting you by disregarding you saying you hate the birthday celebration stuff and for doing too much with the insults too. I guess, I don’t know, it would’ve felt wrong to me not to give you anything for your birthday, but I should’ve listened to what you wanted anyway. It’s not like I know what you need better than you do.”

“That’s whatever. I’m over it.”

Kaiser stares at you because he doesn’t know what any of this means. You’re not accepting or denying him, just talking about what happened, and your expression is calm. The circumstances are completely unlike last night.

He’s not good at this substantial kind of talk, so he continues to stare, awaiting some kind of divine sign like maybe for you to robotically announce you forgive him, then you’ll interlace your fingers together and run off to skip in a field of flowers together or some such.

“You have a runny nose,” you point out.

“I know. Ignore it. I’m not doing the cocaine sniffle anymore, it’s getting old now.” Kaiser takes a step closer — not enough to encroach, but still desiring more proximity. “Listen, you can throw me a hundred surprises if you want, or hit me or scream at me or insult me for days on end, I just want you to know I really do regret it all. And… Please, don’t let me go.” The last bit is humiliating to speak and his cheeks heat up accordingly.

You step forward too, in his direction, once and then twice, before leaning in to wrap your arms around him, very gently. Relief floods his muscles, which had been tense all day all over in your absence, and Kaiser clings onto you tighter, tries to pull you closer. In the event this is a parting hug, he tries to memorize this sensation. Your warmth, your skin.

“Listen, I don’t want to leave you. Not really… I just don’t want this to be a thing. That you do. You get what I’m saying?”

“No, no, yeah. No more of this, I promise. I want to do right by you.”

Kaiser feels surprised that he means it.

“I love you, so I don’t really want to break up,” you whisper. It’s not your first time telling him you love him, but this instance is fragile and hesitant as if it is a novelty, though to be fair hearing it from your lips always makes his heart flutter.

He kisses you on the forehead and tells you he loves you too, which he means more than anything as well. Kaiser doesn’t think he’ll be pulling that shit anymore and so lightly either, not when it could cost him so much. The two of you hold each other in the snow for a few minutes longer, not wanting to move and disrupt your own reunion.

Kaiser can’t help feeling a bit happy and self-satisfied since he’s prevented you from moving to fuckass Hiori and Yukimiya’s room. They were totally taunting him earlier and he hopes they never score regular spots ever again.

___

Today’s main event for the trip is visiting something called ‘The Christmas Garden’.

Kurona examines the flowers, because what else is he supposed to do in a garden? Meanwhile Hiori’s watching you and Kaiser, seemingly enjoying each other’s company again despite yesterday’s malaise. You’re even holding hands and all.

“I think they made up,” Hiori says.

“Yesterday it was a calamity. Calamity.” Despite calling it a calamity, he doesn’t sound particularly invested when he replies.

“I was telling Isagi about it over LINE. He was happy Kaiser got dumped, but I guess no. Must’ve been just a fight then.”

It’s not interesting since you’re no longer wanting to beat each other up with hammers, so Hiori redirects his gaze back to Kurona again, who’s watching the flora in total disinterest. So then Hiori also fixes his face into one of neutrality and starts watching the flora in total disinterest too.

They are so bonding right now without Isagi’s interference!

“I would’ve liked it better if we got to see sharks,” says Kurona.

“There’s an aquarium, so maybe we can sneak off there after this.”

“No, no. I mean here in the garden. Lately I’ve been getting really into sharks in unusual places.”

“… What?”

___

It's the 25th where I am now so happy birthday to Kaiser!!!

[tedwardremus]

for the prompt. 60: truth serum with Hinny

When the office sent Harry home after a particularly grueling test, he fully intended to go to bed and rest, just as he’d been instructed.

And to be fair—if he was being honest, which he had little choice about at the moment—he did go to bed and rest.

He just didn’t end up in his bed.

As he climbed the creaky stairs of the Burrow, the open door on the first landing caught his eye. The bright warmth and comfort of the small room seemed far more inviting than Bill’s old room upstairs. Without much thought, Harry stepped inside.

He wrapped himself in the homemade quilt and buried his face into the soft pillow, the faint scent of the orchard still lingering on the yellow flower print case.

A voice startled him from the doorway.

“What are you doing in here? Aren’t you supposed to be at training?”

“They sent me home.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You messed up that badly?”

 “I was a little too good, actually.”

Harry heard Ginny snort as she stepped into the room. She shut the door behind her and crossed to the bed. A moment later, he felt the mattress dip as she sat beside him.

“Why are you in my bed, though?”

Harry turned over onto his back, squinting at her blazing gaze. “I like your bed better.”

Ginny’s blurry face tilted, clearly smiling. She leaned across him to reach the bedside table, grabbed his glasses, and slid them onto his face. His world came into sharp focus.

“Are you going to sleep here when I head back to Hogwarts next week?”

“Probably,” Harry replied without hesitation, deadpan.

He sat up, leaning back against the headboard, and pulled Ginny into his arms.

“It’s not that great of a bed,” Ginny said, her head resting on his chest. “Why do you like it so much?”

Harry inhaled deeply, his face brushing her hair. “Because it smells like you.”

Ginny smiled softly and began to toy with his fingers. “What kind of test did you do today?”

“Interrogation training. How to withstand different magical interrogation techniques. Neville and Ron didn’t last long.”

“But you did well?”

“Made it through multiple rounds,” Harry said, sounding equal parts proud and tired. “They had to keep brewing stronger truth potions until I finally couldn’t fight it off anymore.”

Ginny frowned. “Bit dangerous sending you home, then. What if someone asked you about top-secret Ministry stuff?”

“Well, good thing I promised—honestly and sincerely—to go straight to my bed and sleep it off,” Harry said.

Her frown deepened. “But then you lied. You went to my bed, not yours.”

Harry shrugged, utterly unrepentant. “Like I said, I like this bed better.”

[notebooks-and-laptops]

We all know that the real reason you hate Veilguard is that non-white people have agency and power in the story, unlike your precious BG3 fetishizing racism. Imagine you giving a shit about the fact that Karlach's story is incomplete because Sven Vincke believes that oppressed minorities deserve racist abuse.

Okay so obviously this ask wasn't sent in good faith (and bizzare considering Karlach, Lae'zel and Wyll are my favs in Bg3 and I've been outspoken about disappointment in their treatment by Larian compared to Astarion but I digress). But it has prompted an interesting thought because....

What agency do characters (any, but especially our non-white as anon has pointed out) have in Veilguard? I think of any RPG (maybe even any videogame?) the Veilguard companions have the LEAST agency I've seen.

All RPGs involve an element of helping to decide your companions fate; will Merrill smash the mirror or keep it? Will Isabela come back? Will Alistair become a warden, a king or a drunk? Will Leliana let ruthlessness or compassion rule her? And how you play does effect this; often there are important choices at certain moments.

I think these decisions in general work better when they're slowly built up over a number of choices (e.g. Leliana in DAI, who will be divine) or come from approval/disproval (Merrill smashing the mirror if she feels she has nobody on side vs. keeping it if she feels she has you at her back). This is because in these situations the characters are not just asking what to do to the player they are influenced by numerous situations and circumstances and that effects the decisions they make.

But veilguard...well. the approval system doesn't exist. None of the companions can hate or dislike Rook, they can only like you to various degrees of intensity. So that doesn't effect anything. They have no agency over their relationships and whether or not they like someone. And there is a total of one choice which I would say truly affects the game long term (maybe you can argue two if you say a meaningful decision with long reaching consequences can happen an hour before the game ends) and even making that choice won't really sour Lucanis or Neve against you fully.

I've mentioned a few times that veilguard companions have no line in the sand; they're very maluable to just...whatever Rook tells them. None of them have strong opinions about magic, religion, race, culture, society. Is that agency? Is it agency to water down a character so they have no stance on anything? Can a companion HAVE agency if they don't have any real negative opinions ever? If they never truly get to be influenced by the world to make decisions for themselves?

Each companion has a choice of two endings and Rook makes them for the companion in question. DA has done this kind of decision before (Bull comes to mind) but they've never followed such a formulaic system in which everyone looks to Rook at one moment and decides the fate of their lives (and in Bellaras case their people) from one decision the player makes. The companions don't push back against Rook for making a choice they dislike or regret letting Rook make for them. When you chose to kill Avelines husband for her she is pissy at you YEARS later for making that decision for her in the moment. In veilgurd there is just. Nothing. They lack any real agency in the narrative at all that can last beyond the scene they're in.

This I think is particularly aggregious with Bellara and Taash; Bellaras agency in the narrative is completely bulldozed by the fact that Rook is allowed to decide whether or not she keeps the archive spirit; something with deep significance to the Dalish/her culture. There's an excellent post about how this is akin to book burning even if DA didn't mean for it to be. You can just tell her to get rid of it and she does! No regrets! Because her culture is never truly at the forefront of her storyline it's viewed as something tangential to who she is; something she can easily discard if you tell her to. Is that agency? She doesn't get mad at you for any particular decision, is that agency?

And then Taash...God Taash deserved so much better. They're living a story about lack of binaries and yet every single choice is about forcing them in one. Taash says they're happy being multicultural at the beginning of the story and you slowly but surely strip that from them and you're FORCED to do so. Is that agency for them? Is that what you think giving characters agency Is? Is that not one of the more racist/insensitive options Bioware has EVER placed before a player.

Davrin spends the narrative learning there is more to him than having to die at the end of a hard fight; he becomes a father, and allows his love of Assan to guide him in the sense that Assan acts as a mirror; just as the griffins can be reframed as protectors of Arlathan rather than just wardens doomed to die so can Davrin...but then they decided that Davrin should be up as the choice of who dies and not only that but they made that decision because they thought players would find it hard to chose between ASSAN and Harding not Davrin and Harding. Which. Is gross. I do think Davrins storyline is handled the best out of everyone which is why he's my favourite, but the ending just adds a bad taste to my mouth.

Neve, Dorian, Mae and the Black Divine are happy to leave their countries future political situation to a complete outsider no questions or disagreements mentioned. Is that uhhh. Is that agency?

Even Solas is stripped of any agency in this narrative; Mythal made him do it! If she says he can stop he will! What? Where did THAT come from? How uninteresting does that make Solas?

As for if the Veilguard companions have power or are in positions of power....I guess? Maybe? Neve can be the leader of a smuggler gang (don't think too hard about what they might smuggle in the slave capital of the world) which is a position of power. Or an...inspiration? Which gives her very little concrete steps towards actually helping docktown. Lucanis can lead the crows I guess? That's powerful...altho he doesn't seem to want the position or be able to refuse it or even complain about it. We have no idea or clue what happens to Harding, Davrin, Taash after the game but hey maybe that's because they could all be dead.

The characters ARE powerful ill give you that. We have some immensely powerful mages in our party and I LOVE every scene where Neve throws up a sheild or places herself as a shield to protect her friends. I wish we'd got to see more of Bellaras science and tinkering smarts but what we get is GREAT. But having a powerful character isn't the same as a character having agency in their story or being able to effect meaningful change.

So yeah. I mean. Obviously bad faith anon straw manning me because I dared to have an opinion about a game they happen to like (and liking the game is fine! I like parts of the game! I think the characters deserved better but hey ho). But I think it's interesting to think about agency and power in this narrative because....I don't think anyone actually gets much of it. Certainly not in comparison to previous DA characters like Blackwall, Leliana, Viv, Zevran, Fenris, Anders, Merrill, Isabela etc.

[strawberrykuro]

Heyyyy, what do you think the seraphim WHB were like as children?? Have they always had hostility towards each other? ..maybe you have some headcanons about this? :D

Seraphim childhood

Hey Anon! I'm sorry this took so long but I hope you enjoy this. 💗

Warning: could be ooc, slight angst, could be some misspellings, few mentions of Lucifer before he fell

I don’t think they were particularly hostile to each other when they were younger, it was more of a sibling rivalry between them, and from an outsider's perspective their relationship with each other seemed perfectly fine, it isn’t like they would try to kill each other one day! Haha… (how they were so wrong)

In front of god, they acted like 3 perfect little angels that could do no harm or wrong. Luci tho, knew that they weren’t perfect and it was only when god wasn’t looking, sometimes he would watch them have little arguments over the tiniest of things and he couldn’t lie that he found it adorable in an odd way. There was much more beyond their imagination, so much they had yet to see with their own eyes, and yet… they were fighting over which fruit would win if they were sentient and could fight. (Every time Luci eats any fruit, he thinks of that argument.)

— for each of them individually tho

Before there were 4 seraphim, it was only Michael and Lucifer. Michael spent most of his time with him, as he was like a second parent when God was attending to other matters. The amount of respect and love for his older brother was unexplainable in words; all of his knowledge came from Lucifer, and he’d use it all he knew to hopefully impress him.

When his two younger brothers were created, Michael just looked so confused at his reaction to the news. A new brother? And two of them? Why? Isn’t he and Lucifer enough? Isn’t he enough? What’s so special about these two? After a bit of resharing and some quality time spent together, he gradually got used to it. (Wasn’t always happy about it tho… (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) )

On a lighter note, Micha trying to take care of a young Raphael and Gabriel is funny to me. Consistently having to keep an eye on Raphael because once he took his eye off of him, suddenly Raphael was trying to eat dirt; a cake-shaped dirt cake. Creative? Yes. Healthy? Hell no.

Gabriel on the other hand was cleaner but is the most annoying piece of shit little brother ever. Like it was on sight the moment they made eye contact with each other, these two would do anything to outdo each other, a truly extreme brother rivalry.

— now for the middle

Raphael has always been an odd case. He was quiet as a child but got into the most trouble. Sometimes it seems like he’s looking for someone, and he was, he missed God, and he wanted to be with his father. Whenever he did find him, Raphael would latch onto his leg, hugging him dearly but it didn't seem like God would fully reciprocate that affection.

God would just sigh and murmur to himself on how Raphael escaped again and why no one was properly watching him. It always ends with God picking him up and carrying him all the back, it was like a kid pretending to be asleep so their parent would carry them to bed.

His relationship with his brother is very indifferent, while Gabriel and Raphael have a very obvious hatred toward each other, with Raphael it is more of an annoyance but tolerable. When Raphael was younger, he was a light teaser from here and there, cracking a few jokes on how Michael is such a perfectionist taking so many hours to get dressed, or Gabriel is such a suck-up to God to the point it's embarrassing to watch.

Just middle brother things <3

— and last but not least, the youngest

Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel. The one that his brothers would consider a “tattletale,” “brat,” and anything else under the sun. The way this child could flip a switch too quickly depending on who is in the room is laughable.

He wasn’t God's favorite, but he was the one who got God's attention whenever he wanted, which was 24/7. It wasn’t all bad, God did enjoy it when Gabriel would get curious about something and ask him about his creation. They would sit down as God rambled and Gabriel happily listened.

This ends with… Gabriel "slightly" bragging, but in a specific way. It is common knowledge among the brothers that Gabriel likes to do a prayer before he sleeps, and sometimes these prayers have a twist in the way he words them. They start normally like usual with thanking god and praising him but then you notice him going “Thank you for trusting me the most” or “loving my singing the most” etc.

Michael hits him with a pillow or tries to suffocate him, whatever shuts him up quicker. Raphael is already asleep so he never notices this. (Gabriel stopped this behavior when he got older.)

[batwynn]

I have to say, I’m kind of extremely pissed off how shrugged off the bird flu has been and now we’re all at serious risk AGAIN. Like, maybe it’s just because I give a fuck about birds (or maybe it’s Mayba-Covid) but I was immediately concerned from the first reports of it, and did everything I could to monitor local birds and be ready to report any cases. (We have a high amount of Canada Geese and ducks that migrate through this area) I kept tabs on what species were hit particularly hard. I checked the domestic flock reports and got, you know, more concerned as more and more people’s chickens got it. Because no one did even the bare-minimum to protect them. Steps like: Reduce wild bird interaction around food by feeding inside, and cover the tops of their runs to avoid wild bird poop falling in.

I guess most people forgot about when the swine flu mutated and made it to human-to-human transmission? Or Monkey Pox? Or… where COVID came from???

When it started infecting cows, I knew it was too little too late. That people, once again, had done far too little to stop the spread and generally just didn’t seem to care. And, honestly? If taking the bare minimum of safety precautions is too much work for people, you shouldn’t be allowed to raise animals at all. Washing your fucking boots between barns was too hard? You know those chickens are treated like less than shit.

And yet here we are. Selfish, greedy, and stupid to the point of our own mass infection. Again. Because we, as a species, just don’t care about other animals. Never mind ourselves.

I’m so fucking sick of human beings.

[xoxoavenger]

Let It Snow

pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N and Sam aren't very close, but having to share a cold room could change that.

word count: 3176

warnings: canon typical violence

I'm so sorry this is so late I am trying to get the last 12 days fic out today!!

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Y/N isn't sure how she ended up with the Winchester brothers. She was a good hunter - a great hunter - but they had saved her from a hairy situation with a Rougarou. She felt stupid as soon as it happened, but it did happen and she couldn't go back in time and stop herself from stepping into the trap. Of course, the Winchester brothers had come to save the day.

Dean she didn't mind as much. She wasn't particularly fond of his 'save the damsel in distress' attitude, but once she got closer to them and realized it was clearly his coping mechanism for losing his mother so young, for feeling like he had no control, she could handle him a lot better.

Better than his little brother, Sam, who she wanted to punch at least once a day.

She lived in the bunker with the brothers, since it wasn't like she had a home to go back to and she had been with them when they got the keys. Dean had insisted there was plenty of space, but apparently Sam didn't like this plan. He had rolled his eyes, asked Dean to talk in a different room, but she had still heard the yells from down the hall where she was trying to block it out. She chose that room, the one at the very end of the hall as her own, and Sam had chosen the room Dean vacated after their fight as his. Complete opposite sides of the hallway, Y/N tries her hardest not to run into Sam. He clearly didn't want her here, so she doesn't eat dinner with him, she doesn't watch movies, research in the library, anything. She either takes one of the old cars and spends a couple days God knows where (giving Dean a heart attack every time by the way he blows up her phone) or she spends her time with the mountain of books in her room, taken and returned to the library when Sam's out on hunts.

Which is another problem that makes Dean want to rip out all his hair - the three of them can no longer even go on hunts together. It's always Dean and Sam or Dean and Y/N. And Dean loves to hunt, alright? It's in his blood. But between Sam and Y/N each finding cases, he's exhausted. He can't say he's surprised when he gets sick.

"Dean, I can't just let these people die." Sam says bitchily, and Dean wants to slap his brother. He would, if he wasn't shaking under the mountain of blankets he's piled on his bed.

"I told you to go with Y/N." Dean says. He wants to kill his brother for dragging out his thing with Y/N. She's a sweet girl, and she deserves better than Sam's emotionally inept abuse that he doesn't even realize he's giving.

"She hates me." Sam says with a sad face that rivals a puppy.

"Sam, I'm going to throw up on you right now if you tell another lie." Dean says, and he truly means it.

"Dean!" Sam screeches, moving out of range. "I'm being serious! She avoids me at all costs! She'll have meals with you and watch movies with you, but the second I walk into the room she suddenly has to leave? You tell me what that means."

"I am way too sick for this." Dean groans, because usually he's not the one who has to explain things to his brother like a toddler. "Have you ever thought that maybe she does that because the first day we were here you threw a tantrum about her staying with us?" He asks, head flaring in pain. He closes his eyes and turns, because he doesn't want to ever listen to his brother's voice again.

"But," Sam starts to say, and Dean actually has to tamp down the urge to scream as he pulls the covers his face.

"Sam, leave my room right now and go on this hunt with Y/N. And please, for the love of God, do not text me or come back to this bunker until you have talked through your shit." Dean's voice is deadly, and Sam knows he has to comply. He leaves with an annoyed 'get better soon' and goes to his own room, because he doesn't want to go to Y/N's room.

She's reading in her room, some sort of fiction that she's been waiting for free time to read. Sam knocks on her door, and she figures it's Dean, because Sam has never been in her room.

"Come in!" She calls, putting her book down and watching the tall ass man walk through the door.

"Hey," Sam says, and Y/N chokes down the urge to tell him to fuck off and leave. He looks so out of place, eyes flitting around her room because he can't look at her for some reason.

"What do you need?" She asks flatly, leaning back.

"There's a case in Minnesota." He explains, voice low. He still isn't looking at her.

"Minnesota in January? You've got to be out of your mind. Ask Dean." She goes to grab her book again, and Sam sighs.

"He's sick." Sam finally meets her eyes when she looks up, and they're both silent for a moment. "Please, I can't do this alone." He is practically begging, and he knows how pathetic it sounds.

"Fine." She agrees, taking a deep breath. "When do we leave?"

~

They realized that maybe they should have left this case to more local hunters the second the heating in the old car they had decided to take went out. Sam had gotten out and tried to fix it while Y/N stayed bundled in the car, wondering why she decided this would be a good idea when she doesn't like Sam and he doesn't like her and it's minus degrees and snowing. Even the coats she stole from Dean aren't doing much, so when they get to the hotel after a car ride of silence Y/N is ready for sleep. They had chosen a fancier hotel than they normally stay at, because they needed a room with heat.

"Two rooms, please." Sam says, and Y/N resists the urge to roll her eyes because of course he can't just share the room with her.

"We only have one available." The lady says, and Y/N suddenly thinks that maybe Sam wasn't being too overreactive. Just the thought of sharing a room with him makes her want to drive all the way back to Lebanon.

"What?" Y/N can't resist saying. "How do you only have a single room left?" She asks.

"There's a wedding here tomorrow, and half the town lost power. I'm surprised we have the one room left." She shrugs, and Y/N wants to yell at her. She knows there's no use, however, because this receptionist can't magically make another room available.

"That's fine. We'll take the room, thanks." Sam hands her the fake card Charlie programmed along with the matching fake ID, and then he's given the keys.

"You'll be on the fourth floor, room four twenty-eight." The receptionist tells them, and the two smile at her before walking to the elevator.

When they get to the room, immediately Y/N knows something is wrong. She pauses in the door, and Sam runs into her back and causes her to stumble.

"We need to go back down." She says. "This is wrong."

"Oh," Sam says as he looks over her shoulder. "But there are no more rooms left." He says it so simply, she wants to hit him.

"There's only one bed." She says, as if Sam can't see this himself. He squeezes past where she's still stuck in the doorway, and goes over to the thermostat.

"It's freezing." Sam changes the subject, because there's nothing they can do about their sleeping arrangements. They know it's too cold to go out and find a new hotel room, which may not even have room since the receptionist said that half the town didn't have power.

"Well, turn the heat up." She can't help but be bitchy, because the year she's spent on the other side of the bunker, avoiding him at all costs, has made her unable to even be in the same room as him.

"It's not working." He grunts, fiddling with it even while he understands the truth.

There's no heat in this room.

"We need to find another fucking hotel." Y/N mutters. She goes to grab her stuff, but Sam grabs her arm.

"The snow is coming down too hard. We don't even know where another hotel is, and we're going to freeze in that metal ice cube." He gently lets go over her arm, but she can feel the tingles from where his hand was.

"We're going to freeze here." She says, but she knows that even this cold room is better than the way the car felt.

"The water is probably warm." He tells her. She rolls her eyes.

"Great, so we can get wet and then freeze our asses off as soon as we're not under the water." She says, and he just blinks.

"If we run hot water, we can create steam and hopefully it'll give off some heat." He explains, and now she feels stupid.

"I'm gonna go downstairs to see if there's any extra blankets." She tells him.

And of course, there's only one.

"I'm so sorry." The lady says, like she genuinely cares that Y/N is going to have to share the bed with the man who hates her in a room that feels like it's below zero. "If anyone leaves, or as soon as someone checks out, I will call your room." She promises, but Y/N knows it's a lost cause. No one is leaving, at least not tonight. Y/N and Sam are stuck without power, and only one extra blanket.

When she gets back to the room, the shower is running, steam coming out from the open door. It isn't until she sees Sam's naked back that she realizes that they have to keep the door open to heat up the room.

She turns to the bed, feeling her cheeks heat.

"I'm back!" She calls, putting the extra blanket on the bed. It does feel slightly warmer with the steam, but she can't help but wonder how long it'll last.

"The water is nice and hot!" Sam calls out, and she can hear him getting out of the shower but not turning it off. She is grabbing her own stuff for the shower when Sam walks out, wearing only a towel around his waist. "I figured we should keep it going for a long as possible, since it's the only thing heating the room." He tells her, and she just nods as she looks at his eyes and his eyes only, ignoring everything else (like the tattoo on his toned chest, the water rolling down his abs where a trail of hair leads under the towel).

"Sounds good," She manages, then goes into the bathroom. It's then, as she turns toward the room, that she realizes they need the door open to let the heat out.

Sam is out of the eye line, so she quickly strips and gets in the shower. The glass is now fogged, so she can't see much of the room and he can't see in. Still, she showers quickly and gets out, not getting her hair wet so she doesn't have to deal with being in the cold room with wet hair. She towels off, then changes as quickly as she possibly can so that Sam can't see anything. But his back is turned the whole time, now with pants and a long sleeve on to sleep. She's glad she brought a hoodie (which may have been Dean's at one point) so she won't absolutely freeze.

"How long should we keep it running?" She asks, walking into the room and putting her old clothes back into her bag.

"I guess until it goes cold." Sam shrugs, and then it goes back to silence. She grabs her book, going to read in the bed before sleeping. When Sam, all six feet five fucking inches of burly man, gets in next to her, she wants to start crying. He takes up over half the bed, and she just knows how this is going to end.

It's going to be a long night.

~

"We woke up cuddling!" Y/N whispers into her phone while Sam talks to the victim's family. She had stayed in the car, deciding to research more since they hadn't been able to look at each other all morning, much less talk to each other.

"That doesn't surprise me." Dean tells her honestly, making her groan. "And not just because I already heard about this." Of course Sam told his brother about the cuddling incident.

"How am I supposed to go back tonight!" She cries, knowing she's being dramatic but also knowing there's nothing worse than Sam, who already hates her, not even being able to talk to her.

"I'm sure it was just cold. I mean, you slept fine, right?" Dean asks, and she can tell he's eating and talking with his mouth full.

"I slept like a fucking log, Dean. That's the problem! And your brother hates me, so I don't even know why he would cuddle me in the first place!" She tells Dean as she skims the book in her lap, not finding anything remotely related to their case.

"He doesn't hate you." Dean tells her, and she just shakes her head.

"I'll just have to take your word for it, since he avoids me like the plague." She mutters. She looks over and sees Sam walking out of the house, so she says her goodbyes and gets off the phone.

"I think we're dealing with some sort of spirit, not a demon. It seems to be haunting the barn, drawing people in." Sam informs her. They had known that the abandoned barn had been a part of the case, but they had thought it was a demon due to the nature of the killings.

"Like the spirit of George Hanover, the kid that was killed there during a hazing ritual in the eighties. We can go a library and see if the deaths match with the way he was killed, maybe interview people who knew him." Y/N suggests, and Sam nods.

The ride, of course, is quiet.

~

It's late at night and freezing cold when George finally shows his face in the barn. Y/N and Sam just needed whatever he was tied to, because they didn't want to burn down the entire barn. If it came to that, however, they were prepared.

What they were not prepared for was George to put up such a fight, and Y/N is thrown into a snowdrift headfirst. She doesn't move, but Sam doesn't have time to check on her. He has to dig through the dirt covered things in the corners of the barn while dodging attacks until he finally finds a jacket, which he hopes is George's. Once it's burned and the spirit is taken care of, Sam is instantly on his way to Y/N.

"Y/N!" He yells, digging through the snow that she was buried in. He finally gets her out, unconscious but breathing, face flush from the cold. He touches her face with his bare hand, and he knows she is way too cold.

He picks her up and carries her the short distance to the car, then puts it in gear and drives as fast as he can through the snow to get back to the hotel. He blasts the heat, but Y/N doesn't move the entire ride and her face doesn't return to its natural color.

"Come on," He says to no one, carrying her to the room and putting her on the bed. He takes off her shoes and jacket before putting her under the blankets, then grabbing a small towel and running it under warm water. He puts it on her forehead, then kneels at her side, unsure of what to do.

He waits five minutes, then takes the towel off and throws it to the ground. She still isn't awake, but her face seems less pale and her hand, which is in his, is less cold. He tells himself it's to keep her warm, make sure she's not cooling down, but he knows why he's holding her hand.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, not knowing why he has to confess. He just feels the need, even if it won't help, even if she won't hear it. "I'm sorry I made you think that I hate you. I don't, I could never. In fact, I care about you more than I should. It's why I try not to talk to you, try not to get your attention. I don't want to get attached, in case something happened. I didn't think I could stand it if you didn't feel the same, or if you did feel the same but something happened. But now, something has happened, and I've wasted all this time ignoring you. I've wasted months of our lives because I was scared, and now I'm more terrified than I have ever been and it's all my fault. If we were able to talk to each other, if I had been able to at least be nice, maybe I could have prevented this." He's crying, and he can't believe he just poured his heart out to this unconscious woman. He feels so stupid, but just as he takes his hand away her's squeezes his fingers. His head whips to her face, where her eyes are finally open.

"Nothing could have prevented that." She tells him, and he can't help himself from hugging her tight. She hugs back, and when he leans away he has to ask.

"How much did you hear?" He's not sure what he wants the answer to be, not sure if he's prepared for it.

"All of it." She tells him honestly. "Well, everything after you saying that I hate you, but I think that was all of it. Which is wrong, ya know. I don't hate you." She smiles, scooting over. The room is a little chilly as Sam toes off his shoes and takes off his coat, sliding into bed next to her.

"That's good to know." He says, trying not to freak out. She puts her head on his chest, letting his arms come around her the same way they were when the two of them woke up that morning.

"I care for you a lot too. Even though I thought you hated me." She says, and he squeezes her.

"Yeah, let's not do that." He says, kissing her on the forehead. She nods, feeling warm in his arms even in the cold hotel room. The snow outside has started to turn into a storm, but neither of them could be bothered to care, too wrapped up in each other.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @lyarr24

[illmasc]

mildly vulnerable/ooc post on main oooh watch out!

feeling weirdly like domming people lately. but i need practice, haha. slowly working it into my page—if you want it from me, you’ll have to tell me exactly what you want at first. i still need to build up my dom muscles.

i used to advertise myself as a switch on here but got tired of trying to dom because it felt like a lot of guesswork and i didn’t know if i was doing a good job

i think that’s the case with all doms, at least at first, though. as horny as i am, i’m also someone on the aro/ace spectrum, so i kind of have an interest in getting people off without necessarily getting off myself sometimes. not that domming isn’t hot—i like to be bossy ;) but i have a lot of ideals about not infringing on people’s free will/not being actually demanding that get in the way. i get confused.

lately particularly tboys (not all, there’s some variance, but particularly) have made me literally just want to top them so bad. i know sub and dom are not synonymous with bottom and top, but you all know what i mean. a feral state comes over me and i want to fuck them with my phantom limb dick. so. there’s that.

hope this drabble is helpful. don’t jump at the chance for this—i’ll probably get overwhelmed again lmao. but just a little signal out to everyone that i’m stepping into switchy territory again…

[morningsharksworld]

Hello am back it's me the muzzle anon (what a name) , I just had a thought that it could be cause he BITES, I need to know if you think he would be a biter, and reader is just like 🤨 down boy or I'll muzzle you 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😋

Be careful, he BITES

A/N: Yeah I am calling you muzzle anon now 🫵😐, but GOD now I’m feral for this so have both headcannon and a Drabble :].

Where He Bites You

- Hazard’s favorite spots remain your shoulders, arms, and neck. If he’s feeling adventurous and cheeky he would leave love bites around your collar bone or your thighs.

Why He Does It

- Hazard still bites you to tease, mark his affection, or just because he enjoys the reaction. His explanations are always dripping with playful smugness.

- “Och, dinnae look at me like that. Yer shoulder’s right there—how am I supposed tae resist, eh?”

Your Reaction

- After one too many surprise nips, you hit your limit. “Hazard, I swear to god if you bite me again, I’ll put a muzzle on you.”

- He stops mid-chomp, looking at you like you’ve just declared war. “A muzzle? Sweet Pea, ye think a wee muzzle can stop me? I’d chew right through it faster than ye can blink.”

- When you pull out an actual muzzle to prove your point, he dramatically stumbles backward. “Ach, yer serious? Ye’re crueler than I thought! This is abuse!”

His Mischief Intensifies

- After you threaten him, he makes a game out of sneaking in quick bites and dodging away before you can retaliate. “Gotta be faster than that, darlin’! Ye’ve nae chance o’ catchin’ me!”

- Sometimes, when you’re really annoyed, he’ll lean in with a grin, exposing his teeth dramatically. “C’mon now, gie us a nibble—it’s a love bite!”

Moments of Softness

- On quiet nights when the teasing stops, Hazard’s nips turn into softer gestures of affection. After a tough day, he gently bites your shoulder and murmurs, “Ye know I love ye, aye? Even if I’m a wee menace sometimes.”

- You can’t stay mad at him when he’s like that, even if you secretly start planning new ways to outwit him the next time he gets bitey.

- Despite his antics, Hazard’s bites become something you associate with his unique brand of love, though you still keep the muzzle nearby just in case.

The first time Hazard bit you, it caught you completely off guard. You’d been leaning against the counter, minding your own business, when he snuck up behind you and nipped your shoulder.

“Hazard!” you yelped, spinning around to glare at him.

He just grinned, leaning against the doorframe like he hadn’t just assaulted you with his teeth. “Och, relax, lass. It’s just a wee nibble. Ye’ll survive.”

You frowned, rubbing your shoulder. “A wee nibble? What are you, a dog?”

“Dogs dinnae have such fine taste” he shot back, smirking as he sauntered off, leaving you fuming.

After that, the biting became a regular thing. At first, it was annoying—Hazard seemed to take great pleasure in catching you off guard. If you were distracted, you could bet he’d sneak in a quick bite on your shoulder, arm, or sometimes your neck.

One time, you’d been engrossed in your book, and he’d leaned over the back of the couch to nip your ear. You’d jumped so high you nearly threw the book across the room.

“HAZARD!” you shrieked.

He laughed, clutching his stomach. “Ye should’ve seen yer face! Priceless!”

“It’s not funny!”

“Aye, it is” he said, grinning like the devil himself. “I should do it again, just tae see if ye can jump higher.”

But as much as it annoyed you, there were moments when the biting felt… softer. When he was tired or stressed, the bites would lose their mischievous edge, becoming gentle and almost comforting. Like the time he’d come back from a particularly rough day, flopping onto the couch beside you and resting his head on your shoulder. Without a word, he’d lightly nipped your neck, letting out a heavy sigh.

“You okay?” you’d asked quietly.

“Aye” he mumbled, his voice low. “Jist needed tae remind meself ye’re here.”

Those moments made it harder to stay mad at him.

But tonight? Tonight was the last straw.

You were in the middle of making dinner for the Phreaks when you felt the all-too-familiar nip on your shoulder. You froze, setting the knife down with deliberate care before turning to face him.

“Hazard” you said, your voice calm but dangerous. “If you bite me one more time, I swear to God, I’ll put a muzzle on you.”

He blinked, then burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching his sides. “A muzzle? Ye’re jokin’, right? Ye think a wee thing like that can stop me? I’d chew right through it faster than ye can blink.”

You didn’t respond, just reached into the drawer and pulled out the surprise you’d been saving for this exact moment: a dog muzzle.

Hazard’s laughter stopped instantly. He stared at the muzzle, his eyes wide. “Ach, ye’re serious? Ye’ve gone full mental!”

“I warned you” you said, holding it up like a trophy.

He stumbled back dramatically, clutching his chest. “This is abuse! I’m your boyfriend, not your bloody pet!”

“Then stop acting like one!”

His pout was almost convincing. “Ye’d really dae this tae me? Me, your beloved Hazard? The man who—”

“Who bites me like a feral animal? Yeah, I would.”

For the rest of the night, he avoided you like the plague, muttering under his breath about betrayal. But of course, it didn’t last. The next morning, he was back to his old tricks, sneaking a quick bite to your arm and darting away before you could react.

“Gotta be faster than that, darlin’!” he called over his shoulder, his laughter echoing down the hall.

You sighed, shaking your head with a mix of exasperation and fondness. “One day, Hazard. One day.”

But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t have him any other way.

[lavendermatchastrife]

Please Come Home For Christmas

summary: you move back to your small town just in time for the holidays and your hot new neighbor gives you a warm welcome!

a/n: I just thought that Gojo deserved to be in a Christmas romcom. This is one part, another will be released later.. probably. Either way this can be read as a standalone. I have not written or published since like 2014, fair warning I usually only write alt characters. Please enjoy my attempt at a corny Christmas romcom.

word count: 14300+

warnings: 18+ mdni, sexual content, unrealistic and corny, reader afab, au!non sorcerers, no beta we die like men, established last name, sensitive topic mentions such as: weight/mental health, insecure!reader, implied/referenced chubby!reader, mentioned/implied Asian reader, inexperienced!reader, cocky!gojo, alcohol use, drunk!reader, drunk!gojo, swearing, gojo lowkey objectifies tf out of reader, obsession if you squint, use of 'you' not 'y/n'

Snow gently falls as you wander outside, looking for the pickup checkpoint. Cold hands rub together while you make your way through the outside of the bustling airport. You breathe a few puffs of warm air onto them, occasionally scanning the crowd for a familiar head of ashen blue hair. A sigh breezes past your mouth, of course your best friend is running late on one of the coldest days of the year so far. A cold day and you had failed to wear a pair of gloves. (In your defense you did just get your nails done.) You sigh once again, and go to grab your stack of luggage to look around for your friend some more. You’d hoped the pickup area would be less crowded considering the abrasive temperatures and slicing winds. Of course that wasn’t the case as countless people flooded the outside of the airport. Christmas was right around the corner, it made sense that it was going to be crowded regardless of where you went. Another sigh wracks your body when someone pushes against you, almost knocking you over. Before you can turn on your heel and give them a piece of your mind however, soft gloved hands obscure your vision from behind. Giggles erupt and the petite frame behind you shakes with their amusement, and you gasp in feigned shock.

 “Guess who~” the singsong voice brings a bright smile to your face.

 “Eve!” you whip around and bring your best friend into a tight embrace. She hugs you back even tighter, and you both hold each other soaking in each other's warmth and company. All care for the world lost on you during this brief reunion. The scent of her favorite perfume invades your senses as you take in a deep breath. Pulling back, your eyes process her appearance for the first time in what felt like decades. In all honesty, you called or video chat almost every day; but it had been so long since you’d actually seen her in person.

 “Oh my god I’ve missed you so much!” She cries out dramatically, pulling you back in for another hug. You chuckle, patting her head while she holds you in place.

 “I missed you too, Eve.” she lets up her hold on you, and you take note of her outfit. Her hair is styled into low hanging twin tails, a white and grey plaid scarf is neatly wrapped around her neck. A dark purple puffer jacket with white fur trim swallows her petite figure, a denim skirt is placed over a pair of thick tights that are surely keeping her warm. 

 You've known Evelyn Days since your childhood. Meeting in some dumb middle school extracurricular (not dumb; it was a book club) and it was like you’d had an instant connection. One seat next to each other and from there it was history. Coincidentally she lived two houses over, and came by whenever she felt like it. Most nights you’d spend at each other’s houses, doing projects; homework; video games; sometimes nothing at all. She was your date to prom. When you moved away from your small town it was hard, not because you particularly liked where you’d grown up; but because you’d found home in Eve. While you were close to your parents for most of your life, you’d had a falling out. Your relationship with your parents became rocky when you’d decided to pack everything up and pursue a career in writing in the big city. Most family members thought you’d been betraying your community. Rather than settle down and start a family, pick up a job at a local business, or further your education for the betterment of your town; you’d left everyone behind. A long time ago you were dead set on becoming a teacher there. Growing up changed your way of thinking, and instead you decided to become a writer. Life felt stagnant and often boring in your small town, it was beautiful and safe, however you couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to live a little more. Your parents eventually saw your side of things, but the time spent with that tension was still hard to think about. Despite the popular opinion of your tight knit community, your friend Eve supported your decision. She was all for your abrupt change in career path and your sudden need to leave. She of course was heartbroken, but knew that it wasn’t goodbye.

 Eve smiles at you, shaking you from your reminiscing, it reaches her eyes and you feel in that moment incredibly happy to be home. You take a hold of your luggage and she helps you with any bags she can carry. As she turns on her heel, leading you out of the airport you catch up on your small town gossip. She tells you all about how Vanessa (your high school bully) still can’t keep a boyfriend. Mr. Choi (your neighbor down the road) passed away almost six months ago. Alma (a mutual friend from high school) is on her second pregnancy; twins. Some kids have been vandalizing the lake, TP-ing the cherry blossom trees. While driving home one piece of juicy gossip piqued your interest a little more than the others.

 Coming from out of state was a handsome, mysterious, new high school teacher.

 “He moved here about 4 months ago. All of the old guys grumbled as soon as they saw his moving van outside of Mr. Choi’s house. You should’ve been there, the whole town gathered at your parent’s place and watched in your front lawn while they moved his stuff in.” She giggles at that, stopping at a red light and turning her head to face you. “No but he’s like… actually incredibly handsome. Even from far away I could tell he was gonna be way too much for our sleepy town.” You believed her, rolling your eyes as she went on about how she just knew he had a tight body. “Oh but that’s beside the point. He’s actually a pretty stand up guy. We all had our doubts, y’know, since he’s not from around here. But he goes to church every Sunday. Bought gifts for his immediate neighbors and paid a visit to the rest to introduce himself. The kids in his class love him. He’s been a pretty great addition to the community.” Her rambling brings a small smile to your face, and as she prattles on about the next person and the next subject you listen with your head turned to look outside of your window. November was looking more like December, snow beginning to fall just a little harsher as the time passed on, gathering in fluffy piles on every street and lawn in sight.

 Your surroundings start to become familiar after an hour of driving, and you feel excitement building up inside of you. Shades of blue, orange, and pink have replaced the bright golden morning, the little bit of farmland you passed through was engulfed by fluffy blankets of shimmering white. As you cross into your small town you’re greeted by the picture perfect Christmas card. A rainbow of  lights decorate the outside and inside of various shops. Big velvety red bows are tied around every iron lamp post. At the center of the town square is a gazebo, sparkling red wreaths are on the pillars of the entry point. The railings have silver and gold lights wrapped around it intertwining with a darker red garland. Christmas was only a couple weeks away, and your town was decked out for the holiday. 

 “The city decided to decorate early this year, did it a week before Thanksgiving.” Eve explains, rolling her eyes as you stare in wonder at the various Christmas light fixtures scattered around the small park surrounding the gazebo.

  “Those weren’t there the last time I visited for the holidays.” You note, turning to look at Eve and pointing in the direction of the lights. You knew your town heavily relied on the income brought in by the season, but they were really going all out.

 “I think they’re hoping to draw in more Christmas tourists or something.” She replies, finally beginning the turn down your road. “Like, a Christmas walk? A family photo event?”

 “Mm, I see.”

 As you near your house, you begin to pass by Mr. Choi’s and you try not to immediately widen your gaze in surprise. Even from a distance you can tell that the man struggling to put up decorations outside of his new house - is quite tall. Muscular but not to an obvious degree in his navy sweater. Bright red ears, a matching pink nose, eyes hidden behind rectangular shaded frames, chin tucked into a comically large cream-colored scarf. Bright white hair tousled about, shit eating grin plastered on his face when he set something up successfully. You didn’t even need to see him up close, you knew this man was gorgeous.

 “Is that our new neighbor?” You ask, trying to mask your interest but of course your friend picks up on your curiosity.

 “Sure is. Quite the looker.” She hums, slowing to a stop to wave at him when you finally pass by.

 He’s on your side of the car, struggling with a roll of string lights this time. His hands are visibly shaking as he throws one end of the chords over the other. When he registers that there’s a window rolled down and someone shouting, “Good afternoon Mr. Gojo!” He begins to jog your way. You hold your breath while turning to your friend and silently will her to roll up your window and move on. The evil look she gave you had you sending a quick prayer up to the sky before finally turning to meet your neighbor. He stops by your window, leaning down and resting a folded arm on the roof of her car to get a good look at you both. His proximity turns your nerves hot, and you lean back slightly away from him. 

 “Well if it isn’t Lil’ Miss Evelyn!” His deep voice rang in your ears, a playful lilt sending warning signals to your brain. He shifts his glasses down, crystalline blue eyes peeking over the rim. 

 “And who might you be?” Gojo tries not to stage at you too hard, but he’s taken aback by the sight of you. Your hair was braided into low pigtails, your pout had a deep burgundy gloss. He could tell you were beautiful as soon as he saw you even from far away, but he was almost winded when he came close to you.

 “I’m-“ Evelyn cuts you off, grabbing your hand and holding it close to her cheek.

 “Why, this is my beautiful wife, finally back in town.” You turn to face her, cheeks tinting pink and you laugh at her remark. You properly introduce yourself to him, and try not to dwell on his gaze that hasn’t left you.

 “Visiting for the holidays?” He asks, his gaze not-so-subtly raking across your face and then over your frame.

 “No, moving back. I figured if I could do my job anywhere, why not home?” You shrug as your response leaves your lips, a lazy and content smile spreading across your features.

 “She’s a writer, a very talented one.” Eve brags, turning her nose up in pride.

 “Oh neat, maybe I’ve read your work?”

 “I doubt it, I’m hardly popular, and I usually only write for children and teens.”

 “Then I’ll have to snag a couple copies.” He insists, pulling his phone out to look

you up. He makes a show of adding your oldest book to his Amazon cart before leaning back down, “you find a decent place in the area, Miss?” His eyes stay locked with yours as he waits for your answer.

 “Oh, just about the coziest place around.“ You point at your parent’s house across the street. “Childhood room, warm meals, rent free. I have it made.” His eyebrows raise at this, cheeky smirk making its way onto his face. You were the pretty eldest daughter of the Manivong’s he’d heard so much about. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Gojo.” You add, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, looking up at him and finally letting your eyes meet his own. He reaches a slender hand out, long fingers grasping your own in a warm handshake.

 “It’s very good to meet you too, Miss.” He replies, winking at you. “Call me Satoru.” You nod in response and silence falls between you both. His hand holds yours, unwavering and you hope your own doesn’t start to sweat. He’s clearly hanging onto your every word and action, your nerves burn with his active perception. Your friend is long forgotten as you both have a staring contest with each other. The cold mid-afternoon air seemingly has no effect on either of you. Unbeknownst to you, Evelyn was being thoroughly entertained by the whole interaction. She’d never seen you so smitten before, and she couldn’t wait to get you alone later for the inevitable talk that would happen.

“You’ll have to drop by some time, I’ve made it a point to get to know all of my neighbors.” He leans in just a little closer, “If you’re anything like your old man, maybe you could help me with some decorating.” He suggests, he sounds playful and you aren’t sure if he’s hitting on you. You weren’t used to interacting much with anyone outside of your immediate circle, let alone the opposite gender. You always had a hard time telling when people were flirting with you or being friendly. Deciding that maybe this Gojo character is just a really friendly man, you attempt to brush off the itchy feeling building up inside of you. However you couldn’t help but be slightly intimidated by his confident aura, so you offer a meek nod.

 “Maybe, if my schedule allows it.” You’d noticed that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, and hesitantly you pull your own from his grip.

 “Well if decorating falls through, I'm sure we could find something else to do.” He’s hitting on you so obviously now and it brings just a little bit more warmth to your face. You try to sputter something witty out, however words are lost on you in your slightly flustered state. You look like a goldfish, your eyes wide while your mouth opens and closes with every failed attempt at a response. He soaks it in, smitten by how easily his words effected you. 

 “Well,” Eve decides then to intervene, “we should probably head out. She has a mountain of unpacking to do. I’ll bet her parents are waiting for her.” Eve says, getting ready to pull away. Satoru’s eyes flash with disappointment for a split second, not wanting to part from such a pretty thing. You’d been so easy to tease, so cute under his scrutiny he couldn’t help but mess with you even if it was just for a little while. He was looking forward to being neighbors with you, already.

 “I would hate to keep those two waiting.” Satoru replies, glancing from Eve back to you, “It’s been a pleasure.”

 “Likewise. Have a good night, don’t hurt yourself with all that decorating. Christmas isn’t going anywhere.” you tease, beginning to roll your window up. It wasn’t clever and you were more embarrassed while trying to match whatever playful atmosphere there was than you would’ve been if you had just said something like, “bye see y’round”. Gojo chuckles in response, pale blue eyes peering down at you from those damned rims one final time.

 “I’ll certainly try not to, especially now that I have such a beauty watching me.” He sends you a wink before he’s pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and skulking back to his yard. Your eyes are fixed on his back as Eve peels away, and they can’t seem to leave his broad figure until you’re pulling into your driveway. The very short drive to your house is spent in silence, not uncomfortable but very knowing. You had the feeling that you were in for an earful. You were grateful she’d wait until you were both comfortable in your room to even begin to bring up your vaguely salacious interaction. 

 Much like the other homes in your neighborhood, yours was decked out in various lights and fixtures. Your father had a penchant for detailed displays and Christmas was his favorite holiday. A delicate nativity scene graced the center of your front yard. Various cream colored light-up deer were placed across the rest of the yard. The front porch had dark evergreen garland wrapped around the pillars with a rainbow of sparkling lights, a classic poinsettia wreath hangs on a silver hook at the center of your burgundy front door. A sloppily put together snowman is closest to the steps of the porch, and you wrap your black and white striped scarf around it. As you tug it on tightly the front door suddenly flings open and three children resembling yourself come running after you. “Sis!” They all yell in unison, trying not to stumble over each other as they race into your arms. You wait for them, arms wide stretched and they pummel into you. All four of you fall to the ground, snow catching you and their delighted squeals allow a sigh of relief to finally escape you. It finally felt like you were home. Bumbling squeals and excited rambling fill the empty silence. Rosy cheeks beam up at you. After a good laugh, you four scramble to get back up, while you dust off the snow from yourself and the children you feel the sudden need to turn around. When you do, Gojo is leaning on the railing of his porch. His gaze brings heat to your cheeks once again, and when you meet it you abruptly turn back around. You miss the signature sly smirk he throws your way, before he turns away and into the warmth of his own home.

 “Oh my god, you guys aren’t even in snow suits, where are your jackets?!” Your exclamation brings exasperated groans and naughty giggles spread amongst your siblings. You shuffle them inside, rolling your luggage inside along with Eve. “Shoes off!” You yell at them, when you finally clamber through your doors, excitement buzzing around you; shaking off your own shoes. “Mommy~ Daddy~ your favorite is home!”

 Your home is just the same as you’d last left it. Toys scattered around, various shoes strewn near the front door. A staircase and banister directly in front of the door, leading to the second floor where your old room is. The only difference between your last visit and now are the mountains of Christmas decorations throughout every area. The same evergreen garland wraps around the handrail leading upstairs, multi-color lights wrapped along with it. Wreaths of varying themes are on every door. Leading into the living room that is just a few steps away and to the right of your front door, are snowflakes clearly made by your siblings, hanging from the ceiling or taped to the walls. A mistletoe hangs in the entryway of the living room, and as you pass through it you spot a great big Christmas tree tucked into the corner. Not yet decorated.

 You hear clattering from the kitchen, a few light swears and then your mother is rushing over to you. You’re engulfed in a soft yet firm embrace, and when you hug your mother back your father saunters down the steps from the floor above. He’s in no rush to hug you like your mother, but he smiles while he waits. “Ah, my little girl!” he pulls you in tight while you bury your face into his chest. He smells like cinnamon and a heavy aftershave (of the musk variety) that makes you cringe and pull away in disgust.

 “Whatever that is, smells awful!” you remark, scrunching your nose. He huffs and rolls his eyes mumbling something along the lines of it’s always something with you. “Do you need any help with dinner, mom?” You ask, she shakes her head with a soft smile.

“Oh no dear, you know how I get about my kitchen. Just go get your stuff situated and settle in. I’ll call you guys down when it’s ready.” You don’t have to turn around to know that Eve is buzzing at the end of the staircase, waiting for you to finally follow her up the steps and into your room. You know she’s hardly said a word to your parents, eager to ’talk boys’ with you in what felt like years.

 You turn away from your parents, finally making your way to the steps and sure enough Eve is there. She impatiently grabs your hand and drags you up and around the corner. Your room is on the left side of the second floor and the only one at the end of the hall. Adjacent to a restroom that you’d claimed as your own however it was originally for guests. Nearing your bedroom you pump the breaks, Eve quirks an eyebrow. Her silent question is not lost on you.

 “I just wanna put it out there that I really, truly, honestly don’t know what that was about.” It sounds as if you’re pleading but you aren’t sure if you should be defensive. What is there to even be defensive about? It was just a little flirting. Wasn’t it? It’s not like it was any grand display of attraction. There were a few playfully exchanged sentences. 

 She shakes her head unconvinced, and pulls you into your room, the door already slightly ajar. You stumble in, greeted by video game posters, dark bedding, a large fluffy black rug on oak floors, and an enthusiastic cat. The large tan and brown Maine coon stretches into a big yawn. He then chirps while running up to you, weaving through your legs. He had been taking a nap on your bed, the indent from his resting spot on the corner closest to your door still there.

 “Listen babe,” Eve crawls onto your bed, propping one of your pillows behind her back as she sits against the wall. “you don’t flirt. If you’ve ever thought someone was hot, you’d usually just tell me about it later.”

 “I mean, sure he was attractive-“

 “Let me finish,” you sit next to her, pulling your cat into your lap. “I think he wants you.”

 “You do?” You’re bashful and twiddle with the ends of your fingers a little, peering up at her through your lashes.

 “Oh my god he wants you so bad!” She cries out, and you both erupt into giggles. You laugh at the fact that someone as crazy good looking as Gojo even looked at you. It just felt too good to be true. “He was inviting you over; he wants to hook up with you, I just know it.”

 “I’m not gonna-“

 “You should sleep with him!” You quickly shush her, covering her mouth with your hands. You stare at her horrified, wide eyes and she mirrors them.

 “Shhhhhh, my parents will hear.”

 “Sorry, sorry, but just listen to me. You had a really bad breakup, I think just a little fling could be good for you.”

 “That sounds so easy coming from you.” You sigh, flopping down so that you’re resting with your back flush to the mattress and your legs are draped over Eve’s. Your hair is splayed out, and your cat (Dusty) fiddles with it as you speak. “I have, like, no confidence, plus. I’ve never…gone all the way with anyone before. Messing around is one thing but putting it in scares the hell out of me.” You groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

 “You could just give him some head.” Her suggestion makes you snort, “either way, he was totally into you. He’s never talked to me like that. On top of it, he’s not dating anyone around here.” While she speaks, you decide to go through your boxes. You pull out a towel and travel sized toiletries. Throwing a bag of makeup you found onto the vanity adjacent to your bed, you nod at what she’s saying. You kick your clothes off, feeling the sweat from your layered airport outfit cool your skin once exposed to your slightly chilly room.

 “Would you, y’know-” as her sentence trails off, her eyebrows wiggle with implication.

 “Oh absolutely, but like; in my dreams right?” She scoffs at that, and you defensively ask, “well would you?”

 “Nah, I’m holding out for this super cute friend of his that pops by every couple weekends.” Eve sighs dreamily and you quirk an eyebrow at this. She doesn’t further elaborate and you’re too tired to even ask about that. Rather, you finish getting together a change of clothes for the night, not wanting to look sweaty and awful for your first dinner with your family in ages. The black bra you wore accentuates the curves of your breasts rather nicely before they’re hidden behind your carefully wrapped towel; and Eve of course is no stranger to this revelation, “Did you go up a cup size?”

 “Mhm, yep. Thank you for noticing, it’s all the carbs from that bakery near my old place. It was a real problem.” You sigh again for what feels like the billionth time, recalling your binge eating during the worst parts of your most recent breakup. Your long term boyfriend had cheated on you, in your own bed, a tale as old as time. You were miles away from any support system you had, and the only comfort you’d found was through constant snack runs. Snack runs, romantic comedies, and so many tissue boxes. As a result of this you’d put on more pounds than you’d care to ever admit. During the lowest point you had decided that enough was enough and began exercising more. Not working out at a gym by any means, god knows that you did not have the capacity nor the commitment for that. You walked more, and did Chloe Ting workouts in your room when you were feeling motivated enough. “You’d think that considering I’m much more active, I’d have lost more weight. These tits just won’t go away.”

 “More o’ you to love.” You roll your eyes while she suggestively bites her lip. You tell her you’ll be back, and go to take a much needed shower. Washing away the dirt and grime from your long day eases the tension in your shoulders. Your soap smells like lavender, the scent and steam filling your bathroom almost instantly. When you finish, you walk back into your room with your freshly dried hair and a towel still wrapped around you. You shimmy on slightly flared black pants, and you thank whatever is out there that the black turtleneck you chose for the night is the same shade. Finally after throwing on a random (black and white polka dot) pair of fuzzy socks, you get started on your makeup. It’s a simple wing, just to boost your confidence if anything. You keep your base a tinted moisturizer rather than a full coverage one, not wanting to go through the pain of setting everything with powder tonight. Dark brown lines your lips and you pop a matching shade of brown gloss. Feeling content with your freshened up appearance, you adjust your facial piercings back into place. Right as you finish up, your mother’s voice calls to you from outside of your door. A gentle rap against it follows her voice.

 “-would you mind running a plate over to Satoru? Dinner is ready, I'm just waiting for it to cool off a little before serving everyone else.” Your eyes widen in panic, she wants me to run dinner over to him? You don’t feel ready to see your dangerously handsome neighbor so soon. You open your door trying to remain as inconspicuous about your raging emotions as possible, “why, don’t you look lovely dear, did you go up a cup size?”

 “She sure did!” Eve replies still propped against your wall and resting on your bed, the fluffy cat now in her lap. “She would love to take Mr. Gojo a plate of food.” You whip your head around, squinting at her as if to say “you’re dead to me” and she sticks her tongue out at you. You groan quietly before turning back to your mother.

 “I’ve only just met him, do you think that’s a good idea? Won’t it be awkward?”

 “Oh he is a very sweet boy, I doubt you’ll have any problems. Now go get bundled up, it’s gotten colder out there.” Your mother insists, thrusting a hot container of food into your hands. It’s glass, and you’re grateful for the cloth keeping your fingers from being burnt but it’s still very hot to the touch. You don’t protest, if you did you know you’d tip her off. You were the one that always greeted your neighbors, brought leftovers, ran errands for everyone over the years, it’d be strange if you were suddenly opposed to it. “I feel so bad for that poor boy, still doesn’t have a real friend around here. All he does is work, or help out around town. ‘Least I can do is give him some dinner.” Your mother was too sweet for her own good. You hum in response, resigning yourself to the task thrust into your hands. Her bleeding heart was almost sickening. You decide to throw on your grey puffy jacket again, and matching fuzzy earmuffs. Black gloves hug your fingers, when you grab onto the container of food once again you’re thankful for the lack of heat. Your mother retreats down the steps and you close the door, taking a deep breath.

 “Oh my god you’re gonna do it.” Eve teases when you turn back around to her, your red face doesn’t help whatever denial spills from your lips. “Oh my god this is so exciting.” Her jittering frame full of excitement only further adds to your growing anxiety.

 “We’re not doing anything, I’m just being neighborly.”

❄️

Eve’s knowing look haunts you when you find yourself making the small trek to Gojo’s house. The lights are on, smoke coming from the chimney. His Christmas lights, that he’d successfully installed along the railing of his porch; twinkle in tune with your beating heart. You buzz his doorbell, staring at the silver and grey tinsel wreath hanging from his white front door.

 You’re just being neighborly.

 You’re just being neighborly.

 You’re just being-

 The door opens, and instead of staring at the pretty wreath it’s replaced by a slightly dampened shirt clinging onto a muscular chest. You gulp, and your eyes trail up.

 “Hello.” You start when he doesn’t say anything immediately, already feeling awkward.

 “Good evening, Miss.” Gojo’s deep voice is sultry, a stark contrast to his cheerful tone from earlier. He sounded tired. It’d gotten darker as the hours passed, the soft twinkling from the Christmas lights doused his features into an ethereal glow. He’d showered, his hair clearly still damp, and a towel hung over his shoulders. “I see you got all dolled up just to see lil ol’ me!” His teasing implication short circuits your brain. Your mouth runs dry, you forget what you were supposed to say.

 “I-“ you look quickly from his chest to his eyes back to his chest and then away, “do you like stew?”

 “Pardon?” Gojo leans against the frame of his door, his languid pose only accentuating the muscles previously hidden by his winter coat. You really do try to keep your eyes level with his own, but if they drift could anyone blame them?

 “My mother made stew,” you bring the glass dish forward, “well it’s either soup or it’s stew; I can’t remember. It’s hot so be careful.” Your averted gaze entices him to call out your name. Its softness comforts your nerves slightly. You turn to face him again, “oh, yes?”

 “Your mother makes a great stew.” Your eyes focus on his chest while he speaks, and it felt like he’d been flexing on purpose. Taunting you, as if he knew that you were like a cat being coaxed with some catnip. (Spoiler alert: what you brushed off as nothing was entirely deliberate.)

 “Yes, she does, she puts all of her love into her cooking.” You reply, shifting your gaze to finally meet his own.

 “Won’t you have dinner with me?” His tone is enticing, pleading if you focused hard enough to recognize it. His sudden invitation catches you off guard.

 “I’m sorry?”

 “How about I drive you back over to your place, you grab yourself a bowl, and we eat back at mine?” While he tries to sound suggestive, maybe even flirtatious he mainly sounds eager. He was hooked on you, just a single interaction with you and that was it to him. Gojo wanted to take any chance he could get to have you over.

 “I don’t know you.”

 “Well that’s what dinner is for silly.” He leans down towards you ever so slightly. It began to dawn on you that Gojo was a very bold man. If he wasn’t bold then he was certainly confident, and he was certain that you wanted him too. “Drinks, of course; are on me.”

 “I’m not sure..” you trail off, a shiver running through you as the night breeze starts to seep through your coat. Your breath comes out in a fog and Gojo of course seizes that opportunity as well. 

 “It is freezing outside, do you want a ride back to your place anyway?” You glance at him again, and he senses your hesitation. His mouth begins to open, but you cut him off.

 “I would appreciate that, thank you.” His smile is blinding and he turns inside slightly to shuffle around the wall for his keys. He slips on a pair of snow boots outside of his door (near the doormat). While he guides you to his car you realize how underdressed he is.

 “Mr. Gojo, where is your coat?!” You want to scold him like you would your siblings.

 “I’m fine like this, your place is just across the street.” You can’t protest when he opens the passenger door for you, but when you slip inside it’s like an ice box.

 “My god are you sure?” Your teeth want to chatter but you will them not to. With your jaw tensing you almost beg him to go put a coat on. “You’ll catch your death in here.”

 “You really hate this shirt, huh?” His tone is incredulous but you can tell he was just joking around. Even so, he reaches behind you towards the backseat. His proximity causes you to freeze up again, puffs of your breath fan across his close figure. He was so close to you; he smelled of peppermint. His bulging chest was so close, if you moved even the slightest bit you could easily rest your head against it. His pebbling nipples from behind his shirt seemed to taunt you, damn the cold weather. Gojo was invading your space on purpose, of course, and you were innocently oblivious. He produces a navy jacket, and as he slips it on you wonder if the wide turtleneck even keeps him warm.

 “I’d hate for you to catch a cold, think of your poor students.”

 “Ah, so you’ve heard of me?”

 “Just this afternoon.”

 “How’s my reputation?”

 “It’s hard to say, so far it’s leaning towards your favor.” You tut, it’s playful. “My personal opinion however, has yet to be determined.”

 “I’ll have to find some way to get you on my side.”

 Once the vehicle is warmed up the short drive to your house is made in a peaceful silence but there is a tension growing. From what, you can’t quite place. You thank the gods when you realize that you’re in your driveway. There’s a palpable pause between you both, he’s waiting for you to leave. Your fingers twitch from their spot in your lap, and you feel yourself stalling. Looking to the side, your pretty glossed lips part, Gojo finds himself staring at them. A cool feeling washes over yourself, not wanting to part just yet; you can’t stop your mouth from moving.

 “I’ll be right back.”

 Gojo blinks, “you will?” He swears he can hear his heartbeat quickening almost immediately. 

“Yes, I won’t be long. Dinner is still okay?”

 Fuck yes it is.

 Your eyes widen and he realizes that he’d said that out loud. He doesn’t fluster easily but he coughs to cover his brief outburst. Gojo was not an eager man, as cocky as he may seem he truly wanted for nothing. He’d never had to proposition anyone before. He knew he was good looking, he had decent finances on top of it. Yet when he approached that window earlier his confidence seemed to leave him instantly. Your wide eyes and flushed cheeks were endearing, not to mention you were exactly his type. He wanted you bad.

 You don’t waste any more time and unbuckle yourself, hurrying to leave his car. You had to be quick or you’d change your mind. He watched with bated breath as you hurriedly walk up the steps and into the warmth of your childhood home. As soon as you’re out of his sight, Gojo relaxes almost immediately. He leans down to rest his forehead against the steering wheel, a dramatically whisper-shouted, “fuckkkkk yessss.” escaping him in the process. He was so in, you were right within arms reach. He felt lame, wanting you so bad despite having no idea who you were. If he was a better person with a clearer mind his almost imstwnt longing for you might have concerned him. However he was simple, all he could think of at this point was having you under him by the end of the night. Call him a sleaze, but he truly didn’t do this often, so he was going to take what he could get. Gojo’s fingers grip the steering wheel harder, and as his body thrums with anticipation he finds himself hurriedly tidying himself up. He checks his appearance in the mirror, perfect as always. Nothing in his teeth, lips glossed. His hair was neat but also messy in a sexy way, like he’d done it on purpose-yet he ruffled it some more for good measure. He unzips his jacket to get a look at what exactly he had put on last minute. The compression shirt he threw on when he had heard his doorbell ring was a lucky grab. He knew it hugged his chest well, clinging to him a little harder and a couple areas dampened with his shower slicked body. It was no surprise that the grey sweats that hung low on his hips didn’t leave much to the imagination. Yeah, he had this in the bag.

 On your side of things, your heart thrummed in a gentle acceptance. You’d left Gojo to his own devices and upon entry into your home, you were refusing to let panic set in. Your siblings (Emmett, Phoebe, Lillian) as well as Eve and your parents are situated around the table. Slices of warm bread, a tub of butter, as well as carefully placed bowls of stew were placed in front of everyone. They’d been waiting for you. Your mother is the first to greet you. Shit, you were beginning to feel bad.

 “I know this is so last minute, but do you care if I have dinner with Mr. Gojo?” You hate being inconsiderate, you know they’ve missed you. It was your first night home, after all. They were so clearly waiting for you to get back.

 “What for?” Your father sneers, his bright mood upon seeing you dampening at the mention of your new neighbor. “Why can’t he just eat over here?”

 “Well honey, there weren’t enough chairs. The old set is in the attic, I didn’t want to bother with all of that.” Your mother explains, “I think that’s a wonderful idea, dear. Getting close with people around your age is important after all.”

 “He’s in his late twenties, Maira!”

 “Making friends is important, Christian. She doesn’t have many, love.”

 “Eve is here though, that’s so rude to her!”

 “Mr. Manivong, I’m here like, every night. I won’t mind.” Eve is practically bouncing in her seat and you know you’re in for it later. She tries to not sound too excited at the prospect of you having dinner with the hottest catch in town. “I’ll keep the bed warm for you, my love.” She salutes you and you bite your lip in nervousness. You make a vague gesture towards yourself, silently asking if you look alright. Her salute shifts into an okay and then she begins to dramatically fan herself. You snort and shake your head at that. Neither of you realize your father was watching the both of you until you hear a scoff come from him.

 “Of course.” He grumbles out. Everyone in the room ignores him.

 You don’t remember seeing your mother leave her seat. Before you even realize it she has a hot bowl shoved into your hands as well as a warm wrapped loaf of homemade bread; and she’s ushering you out the door. Soft words of encouragement and excitement leave her, vague mentions of so handsome good for you, and take your time sweetheart your father will live. Your father’s grumbling fades as the door shuts behind you, and you’re then faced with the reality that you’re about to have dinner with a (handsome) complete stranger. The cold autumn air bites your cheeks, and you steel yourself. 

 It’s just dinner. You’re just neighbors having dinner.

 You open the passenger door once again, and Gojo’s slightly slackened frame straightens immediately. His features turn bright, and despite him waiting for you in your driveway; he was still happy that you actually came back out. He doesn’t waste time with useless greetings, he just makes sure you’re buckled in and pulls away. It’s begun to snow again, the fat clusters tap against the windshield filling the silence. You’re undeniably excited, your frame practically buzzes with the idea of a new friend. Friends, yeah right. You were having a hard time admitting to yourself the real attraction you were starting to feel for him.

 Gojo glances at you when he’s pulling back into his property. Once parked his eyes find themselves lingering on your thighs as they subconsciously rub together. His crystalline hues meet your own and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. His mouth had suddenly gone dry. You both try not to awkwardly clamber out, but you notice that he seems just as stiff as you are. He hadn’t bothered to lock his door, when he opens it for you he tries not to appear too eager. You leave your shoes near the entryway after you kick the snow off of them and he follows suit. You linger by the threshold, clutching your container of soup. Gojo takes it from you, his fingers lightly brushing your own, and sets it on an island in the middle of his kitchen and dining room. He makes an excited hum when you hand him the bread as well. 

 Upon entry you’d noticed how cozy his home was. The living room greeted you at arrival, black rectangular picture frames hung in several areas. Among them were photos of family members or friends, some of Gojo himself with them. The same man with stretched ears was in quite a few, you noticed. Situated next to his grey couch was a photo in a silver oval frame of Gojo and some students, on what you assumed was a field day. They were all bright smiles and peace signs. A mug that read World’s Greatest Teacher was placed next to it. The dining and kitchen area was separated by partial walls and a marble island, the bottom cupboards had various Christmas washcloths hanging from the outside of them and winter themed placemats were on his dark oak dining table. He had one of those realistic trees that looked like the branches were brushed with snow; it was in the leftmost corner of the room, closest to the door. You could tell he started decorating, a box of ornaments in varying shapes, sizes, and colors sat unopened near it. Silver and gold tinsel were still perfectly wrapped in their packaging. The only thing on the large tree were warm twinkling rainbow lights.

 He steps close to you once more, and offers to take your coat. You thank him, shuffling the thick garment off. You don’t notice how his eyes linger on your chest for a little longer than they should have. The ribbing of your sweater accentuated the outline of your breasts, and now it was his turn to be distracted. He wanted you before and seeing the curves of your body for the first time didn’t help sate his desire. It certainly didn’t help his case when you seemed to push your breasts out more as you held your hands in nervousness behind your back. Truth be told the only thing on your mind was how sticky you felt in that jacket. It was hot in your house as well as his car with the thick layers on and you began sweating. It was relieving not having it on anymore but your breasts under the warm sweater felt suffocated and the thing you wanted most was to just take your damned top off. Your uncomfortable shifting only brought more attention to them, yet you still didn’t pick up on Gojo’s virgin-like ogling. Eyes glued to one thing only: your tits.

 “Well we better eat it while it’s hot.” His deep voice cuts through the suddenly thickened air, startling you. You nod, following him to the dining area. He doesn’t bother taking any of his own bowls out of the cupboards, choosing to instead grab a couple of spoons to save time on dishes. You can respect that, you hated doing the dishes.

 Rather than being any more nervous, you decide that the sound of clinking silverware and the news playing on his television as white noise isn’t so bad. Small talk wasn’t something you excelled in. Starting a conversation was a hurdle in itself, but maintaining a steady flow while keeping the interest of the other person was overwhelming. As a result of your awkward mannerisms and ‘lack of interest’ your relationships were few and far between. The only person that seemed to bask in your silence was Eve, who could chatter away to no end. When it struck you that Gojo didn’t seem to have the desire to make you talk, it oddly comforted you. You’d always felt pressured to fill the empty space and you usually fell short of any fulfilling interaction. 

 Eating with your neighbor might not be so bad if it stayed just like this.

 Gojo clears his throat. “Your mother is a great cook.”

 “Yea, she is.”

 “She has your dad or one of the kids run me over some dinner or a snack almost every night.” He remarks, gesturing towards the island behind you. You turn around and spot a couple bags of various snacks that you could always find in your own cupboard. At the center of the island was a dish with three cheesecake slices tucked inside. You loved your mother’s cheesecake. “She made that a couple days ago, I’ve been too busy to indulge.” He pouts, going over to grab you both a slice. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth and hardly any time for myself so she’s always saving the day.” You accept the slice, eager to sate your own craving.

 “She’s pretty great, and her cheesecake is the best.” He hums in agreement, a cozy silence falls into place once more. 

 While initially dinner together was a little awkward, all of Gojo’s aforementioned confidence seemingly disappeared; eventually conversation picked up. While usually you were slow to open up, Gojo had a way of getting you to talk without trying. You’d learned that he was quite the nerd, and when it felt like conversation was running short he would bring up a game he liked to play during his free time. A book he’d read recently. An anime one of his students recommended. With dinner having been finished long ago, you’d both gravitated to his couch.

Maybe I should head out, it’s gettin’ pretty nasty out there…

No, no, it’s freezing. Why don’t you wait a little while, at least for the snow to let up?

Reruns of old Christmas specials played in the background on his wall mounted television. Glasses of red wine reflected the flames from the fireplace underneath it. Small talk about work, college, short term aspirations; morphed into steady laughter and stories from your childhood. The longer you spent on it the more you realized his sofa was just too comfortable. The atmosphere was quite intimate, you were clueless to the fact that it was deliberate. Gojo hadn’t planned on having you over so soon, it wasn’t his fault that he was thrown off a bit. Naturally, he’d set things into motion the way they should be throughout the evening. He had dimmed the lights over the course of the night, letting his fireplace illuminate his living area. A consequence free show played as a source of casual entertainment. Gojo casually lit a holiday pine scented candle in the kitchen while you had been enjoying dessert, and when things shifted to the living room he lit a sage scent that complimented it perfectly. He, of course, wouldn’t be a good host without providing refreshments. His finest and most expensive wine, a sparkling palate cleanser that wasn’t too sweet, wrapped foreign chocolates, and dried fruit were neatly placed on his coffee table in front of the sofa. He had you right where he wanted you.

 “Oh I didn’t realize you moved from there! I have a couple o’ buddies around that area.” his features brighten after learning where you moved from.

 “Ya don’t say! Small word.”

 You could feel as the minutes shifted into an hour, and then an hour and a half; your hesitancy to leave grew more and more. As your stories became more intimate, the proximity between you both shortened. While you weren’t put off by how close he was, it was something you were hyper aware of. Your elbows brushed lightly against one another on the back of the couch as he mirrored the way your head rested against your hand. If someone had peaked in on you both, they might have mistaken you for good friends or partners, the laughter and conversation flowing freely between you both. The alcohol in your system had your core feeling warm, your cheeks rosy, and your lips loose. He was practically entranced by you as you explained how your recent ex tore your heart to shreds.

 “Eve ended up flying up there for a weekend and she helped me throw his stuff out. Couldn’t just throw my mattress out though, but I guess it’s fine since I moved back here in the end.” You reach over to the coffee table for your glass of wine, taking a sip. An amused snort leaves your mouth while you watch on the tv a stop-motion reindeer jump around in glee at his crush admitting that she thought he was cute.

 “I can’t believe he cheated on you, in your own bed.” He remarks, shaking his head with a click of his tongue. Gojo can’t take his eyes off of your form, soaking in the subtlety of your enjoyment.

 “Ugh, I know! He couldn’t even make me cum in it, what made him think he could get her to?” The wine seemed to remove your filter. Despite the both of you being equally surprised by your words it brings bubbling laughter up from your stomachs. Gojo laughs in further disbelief; you laugh at your own expense.

 “Oh you poor thing,” his sympathetic coo is bordering on patronizing, “I bet I could make you cum.” The wine seemed to remove his filter as well. He had mumbled it, you don’t think he even meant for those words to leave his stream of consciousness. There’s mirth swirling inside of his piercing gaze, and something else that you can’t quite place.

 “I’m sorry?” Your laughter teeters off, and Gojo decides that he might as well just go for it.

 “How ‘bout it? Wanna fool around?” He wraps his hand around yours, and takes the wine glass from you. When he sets it aside, your breath hitches in your throat. His delicate features were tipsily flushed, much like your own. And to your absolute horror: he sure was handsome.

 “I don’t know you.” Your statement from earlier bubbles up and escapes from your throat before you can even think of stopping it. Yet you lean in closer, your fingers move from being dropped into your lap, to grazing the surface of the cushion between the both of you. He places his own hand to just barely ghost across the tips of His fingers against yours.

 “Well, we’ve met.“ he holds up his free hand, and ticks away at his fingers, “Had dinner. And now we’ve shared some drinks. I’d say we’ve been on a couple o’ dates by now.” You find yourself leaning back as he leans into you further. Fingers itching to reach out for him.

 “I’m not comfortable sleeping with you tonight.” Tonight? Does that mean it was possible in the future? Truth be told, his offer was tempting, you just felt shameful having sweat so much. You don’t miss the way his features light up with excitement, however. You both crawl backwards, and his forearms rest on either side of your head, his nose barely brushing against yours. He’d lost that dumb pair of shades two wine glasses ago, wanting to see you without any obstructions. His lips almost graze your own as he speaks.

 “We don’t have to have sex.” Right, he said he wanted to fool around. You hum, biting your lip lightly in thought. 

 “Gojo I-“

 “Satoru.” He corrects, ocean blue eyes boring into your own hazy ones.

 “I really need to shower, I sweat on the way over here, I showered earlier but I’d feel terrible-“ He’s nodding along, not seeming to care for your (very valid) excuses. They’re falling on deaf ears, because why were you wrapping around his neck? Why was he so damn mesmerizing? You felt stupid for a brief moment, and figured it didn’t actually matter if you just kissed him. So you did. It was a light peck at first, your eyes flutter closed, and he reciprocates with a peck of his own. One turns into two, two turns into three, three shifts into a deeper kiss. You make a noise in the back of your throat, or was that him? Your fingers tangle into his snowy locks, as he settles his weight between your legs. Your thighs grip his hips and it’s definitely him that groans. You weren’t ever really into kissing, it repulsed you when it went on for too long. But as Gojo experimentally swiveled his hips into yours, the slight friction eliciting a sultry moan, you think to yourself that you don’t actually mind it. Not with him at least. His tongue snakes its way into your mouth, and as it dances with your own it almost hypnotizes you. He pants in between kisses, growing more eager and frustrated with every passing moment that he grinds into you or sucks on your lips and your tongue. It grows sloppier, he eventually switches from your lips to kissing around them. Drool gathers around the edges, and he eagerly laps it up, but this only worsens the mess. He kisses down your mouth, your chin, your jaw, your neck. It’s fiery, hotter than the flames flickering across the room, you think. 

 As you become uncomfortable with the heat, you squirm to pull your shirt off. He pulls back, going to remove his clothes as well. The obvious tent in his pants causes your fingers to stutter with the button on your own bottoms. The large imprint only grows larger as his pants are removed and reveals a monster confined behind black briefs. You gulp and stand up to shimmy your pants off, walking away to put your clothes somewhere you could easily find them. You were stalling as your nerves built up again. Were you going to have to stick that huge thing into your mouth? He’s oblivious to your inner struggle, making himself comfortable on the couch below you. He taps his thigh a couple of times, a wordless beckoning when he notices you staring at him. The short distance to him has you nervously clasp your hands behind your back. When you’re in front of him again, you drop to your knees. His blatant confusion almost immediately embarrasses you. Why did he look like that? Shame wells within your gut as you believe you’d made a mistake.

 “I’m sorry, did you not want me to suck you off?”

 He stares down at you, blanking on what to say. Of course he did, he was just hoping to make out some more first. A noise of consideration thrums in the back of his throat, and then suddenly he beams at you.

 “No actually; I’m gonna eat you out.” He flashes you a cheeky grin, his confidence from earlier returning. “Awkward question but I gotta ask, are you clean?”

 “Yes I am. Haven’t done anything since I last tested.” You tilt your head to the side. “But why would you wanna do that right now? Like I said, I sweat a lot earlier.”

 “…to get you off? Because it’ll be fun?”

 “Oh, are you sure?” Your hesitation is cute, and concerning. Rather than respond he sits up and wordlessly pulls you onto the couch so that you’re next to him. He lays you out gently, and your heart thrums. “I’m not sure if I’ll finish tonight. I’m really okay with just doing you. I wouldn’t want to put you through such a hassle.” You ramble in embarrassment, your shame at being so hard to sexually handle evident.

 Your previous partners were less than attentive. They’d usually moved on or given up after a few minutes. Suffice it to say you certainly hadn’t finished from any head you’d briefly received. You just couldn’t help the numb feeling you’d felt every time someone touched you intimately. Unbeknownst to you Gojo was not only competitive, he also loved a good challenge. There was a chance to be the best head you’d ever gotten, and the first to make you cum all in one go. You feel his breath travel from your clavicle, nibbling kisses that wander downward over your navel. Your shivering at the anticipation of his touch is not lost on him. 

 “Gotta be insane to think that I’m not gonna eat this pussy tonight.” As he said that, he finally spread your legs for him. Your knees touch the couch at your side. His hands are flush against the swell of your thighs; holding them in place. Gojo peppers the ghost of short and soft pecks against your clothed sensitivity. You try to resist the urge to buck up, but at your subtle movement he firmly buries his face against the fabric. It’s a silent encouragement to do what you want. You aren’t used to it, and in that moment you are so grateful that you had the foresight to match your panties with your bra. He continues to kiss the same area, they deepen with each one. He could sense your lack of confidence, your inexperience, and he was perfectly okay with taking the lead. You’re unsure when he does it, but your panties are suddenly pulled to the side. The wet muscle that was buried in your mouth earlier finds itself dancing with your lower lips this time. There was a tense silence in the room, save for the crackling of flames in his fireplace, but as he starts to work you; your breath audibly hitches. You squeeze your eyes shut, and the pad of his tongue runs up and down from your twitching hole to your buzzing clit. It’s almost terrifying, your hands go to your mouth to suppress the noises begging for an escape. You can’t help but pant as his tongue continues to torment you. He applies just the right amount of pressure, soft lapping at your clit so wet and noisy.

 “Ngh.” Your back arches, he applies just a little more pressure up and down your slit before sucking on your clit. It’s hypnotizing but you find yourself becoming overwhelmed. One of your hands snakes into his cloudy tresses, “Wait, Gojo, I’m getting scared.” Your voice comes out high pitched and whiny, it’s the first thing you’ve said since he laid you out. He moans against you upon hearing you, “This is scaring me a little, can you slow down?” The breathlessness in your voice makes the hard-on behind his briefs throb almost painfully.

 “Call me Satoru, sweetheart.” He kisses your clit then, having missed feeling the hard nub against his soft lips. “Of course I can slow down, whatever you want.” He doesn’t sound put off, he wasn’t complaining about his jaw, he wasn’t just whipping his dick out. Yet you can’t help but feel embarrassed and like you’re inconveniencing him. With your inexperience taking over you mumble and push his face back, “I’m sorry I’ve never really done this for so long before, if you want we can switch.” He pouts at the feeling of your warm hand holding him in place.

 “What do you mean ‘so long’ it’s barely been ten minutes.” He’s puffing out a playful laugh, and then weaving his arms around your thighs. Hugging them almost to bring your arousal closer to his face, he gently rubs the plush of them as he starts to gently lap at your slit again. You tasted amazing, he had to focus on not cumming in his pants as soon as he was met with your dripping sex. You were paranoid for nothing, Gojo couldn’t get enough of you.

 “Gonna keep going until you cum, we can stay here the whole night for all I care.”

 “I’ve never finished like this before.” You admit, hiding your face behind your hands. It’s like the embarrassment can’t leave your body. His ministrations don’t stop, and they start to grow in intensity at your words. You’d been spurring him on whether you had meant to or not. 

 “Shouldn’t have told me that sweetheart, now we’re really gonna be here all night.”

 “Gojo, I can’t stay here all-“

 “Satoru.“ The deepening of his voice is just barely a growl, and your hips buck in response. 

 You suddenly yelp, because instead of feeling his tongue enter you; you feel him shift so that one of his hands is positioned at your entrance. A warm digit probes the outside of it, not entering but teasing you. Your thighs clench around his head and he groans at this. “Fuck yeah, you want it?”

 “I, I don’t know. Your fingers are so long.” You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, and if you were being truthful you probably did want it. You were absentmindedly grinding your hips, swiveling them into his prodding touch.

 “You think my fingers are long? Wait till you see my dick.” His teeth playfully nibble at your thighs while he waits for your permission. You inhale sharply, still trying to suppress the noises of pleasure he so desperately wanted you to let out.

 “A little is fine, but go slow please. It’s been a long time.” Your soft and curious gaze pierced his own, and he knows he’s in for it. You’re gonna be the death of him.

 He tuts, “I don’t know.~ It doesn’t sound like you want it bad enough.” His finger betrays him, and it shallowly teases your entrance. Labored puffs of air leave your mouth at this. Your eyebrows pull together and he could cum on the spot just by the sight of you. There’s an almost magnetic push and pull between you both. As your hips continue to gyrate, furthering in intensity as your frustration grows; he’s barely teasing you and pulling himself in the opposite direction just to lead you on. Never fully leaving you, remaining firm in just grazing. Occasionally a faint whimper will escape you, and he rewards you with pushing in just a fraction deeper each time. He was finding out that you didn’t have to try hard to get what you wanted from him. 

 “S…Satoru.” Just hearing those few syllables tumble from your trembling pout has his hips stuttering into the couch. He’d picked up a steady grind of his own while waiting for you to just give in to your desire. “I want it.” It’s barely audible and he makes an incredulous noise in the back of his throat.

 “Pardon?” He’s tugging your panties down, tucking the delicate purple lace into the cushion of his sectional. His breath ghosts over your sensitive nub, he can’t help but reward it with a sloppy kiss. You mewl almost instantly, the loudest you’d been all night. “Yeah, you got somethin’ you wanna say to me?”

 “I want it.” You sound so sure now, your cares finally departing from your conscience. What did this matter in the end? You huff, caressing his face and he eagerly leans into your touch. He’s kissing your fingers, and peppering your wrist with his affection.

 “You want it bad?” He’s lifting your hips just enough to provide himself with better access to your dripping folds. The sight of him through your half-lidded eyes has you panting once more. You eagerly nod, continuing to caress his face and massage his scalp.

 “Nnmmh!” Your throat draws out sickeningly sweet whimpers once he’d begun his descent upon your flower once again. This time with added vigor, and a delicious friction you’d never felt before. His experimental kitten licks from earlier evolving into deep drags of his tongue against each and every dip. With his glossy lips on your clit, they alternate between harsh sucking and firm circular motions. He still doesn’t finger you, your fear and hesitation from earlier finally blooms into a deep desire for more. “Satoru.” You mewl, the drag of your voice heavenly, the breathy pitch sardonically kissing his senses.

 “Yeah, baby?” He’s removed himself from you with an obscene pop from your clit, his mouth and chin coated in a glossy sheen of your slick and his saliva. You’d been grinding against him harder, searching for more friction.

 “I want your fingers in me so bad, Satoru.” You’re begging at this point, pulling him up briefly to kiss him in the hopes of sweetening him up. You’re entangling tongues, he’s dragging his clothed erection dangerously across your weeping petals. The sound of your mouths colliding and teeth mashing quickly fills the air once more. Gojo’s hot touch finds itself attached to your breasts, and he wastes no time finally ripping that god forsaken bra off. Your breasts spill out of the cups, and two twinkling pieces of jewelry flirt with him at eye level. He’d instantly pulled away from the intensity of your lip lock as soon as your pierced nipples had made contact with the air. His large hands find purchase on your plush chest and you push into his touch. The gentle massage he gives you almost relaxes you more than it arouses you. The friction from his hips against yours, his soft suckling on your neck, and the fervent kneading of your breasts makes you lightheaded in the most tantalizing way. He’s finally snaking his way back down to your core, kissing along that same fiery path. He doesn’t say anything, too entranced by your every movement. A single digit almost immediately bullies its way past your resistance. The inside of you is tight, warm, and so obnoxiously wet. His finger slid in so easily thanks to the abundance of your natural lubrication. You finally moan out, arching once again into the pleasure he gives you. He’s working you, in and out, in and out. Licking and sucking up and down from your entrance right back to your most sensitive bundle of nerves. Your toes begin to curl, you’d never felt this electric before. Your hips rock yourself against his face, and you give in to the pleasure. Allowing yourself to close your eyes, run your fingers through his silky hair.

 “This pussy tastes so good, sweetheart.” Your absent nod in his direction has him biting back a snicker. You’re lost in the pleasure but he wants you to do more than this. He wants you to feel so much more. He wants you desperately. His pace picks up in intensity, lapping at your clit and steadily thrusting two fingers into you. The addition of another digit has you immediately blanching.

 “Ah, r’there!” They thrum against your sponge-y sensitivity, “ah, ah, ah! So good!~” And while your moaning doesn’t grow in pitch, you are hardly being loud, your vocalized praise encourages him. Targeting your g-spot he nibbles and suckles on your clit relentlessly. His wrist is escaping you fast, pounding back into you harder each time. Your honey squelches and it fills the room drowning out the noise from his crackling fireplace. You don’t notice him reach over to shut the specials you’d previously been watching off. You also don’t notice the way he occasionally pulls his mouth away from you to take in the intensity of your being in the throes of pleasure. He was determined to get you off. As he’s working back into another rhythm with the intent to finish you, he hits that hot spot over and over again. “Satoru~ ngh.” Your head is thrashing back and forth, “Satoru…is t’much I feel weird, baby, oh- slow down.”

 “Fuck, what did you just call me?” He suddenly stops his ministrations and you almost sob in frustration as your teetering peak is pulled away from you. You stare at him, eyes fogged from your heat and confusion. Didn’t he want you to call him by his first name? He kisses you then, kicking off his briefs. It’s more intense than earlier, if that were even possible. He’s between your legs and you feel something smooth prod at your slippery entrance.

 “B..baby?”

 “Shit, call me that from now on, sweet girl.” His words are punctuated by a shallow swing of his hips against you, length sliding against your thigh. He’s staring into your eyes, they’re blown and dark to an animalistic degree; his hair is disheveled into beautiful chaos by your own hands. He’s intimidating to say the least, and yet something about him was eagerly welcoming you in. If Santa existed then you’d hoped you would see Satoru wrapped under your tree for Christmas. By gods was he beautiful.

 “Who’s making you feel good, baby?”

 “Satoru is?” Your questioning tone has him rasping out a humorous gasp between a sloppy kiss and he’s moaning into the next one.

 “Fuck yeah, call out to me.” He’s massaging the fat of your breasts, running his fingers along your sides soothingly, squeezing along the plush of your tummy, kissing your face, your lips, your neck. Finally he’s back to persistently penetrating your gummy insides. The slick walls can’t decide whether to suck him up or push him out, and his dick thrums with want at the thought of feeling you around him. Satoru sits on his haunches, your lower half thrown over his own, and if he moved even a little bit he could insert himself into you if he was so inclined. Instead, he’s watching you writhe under his touch, fingering you without a care for your overstimulation. Rubbing his spare hand across your clit, skilled digits flat as they rub impossibly fast against it.

 “Mmm, ha,” you pant, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, “ah wait!” The pounding motion of his fingers going in and out of you grows into that intensity once again. Pounding. Pounding and pounding as he’s rubbing your sensitive bud with no sign of letting up. “Satoru please! Something weird is happening. Ungh!” Your voice peaks almost pathetically, and he’s laughing at you. Your writhing is amusing and so attractive to him he doesn’t know if he should be euphoric or in disbelief.

 “Haha, look at you! You said you wouldn’t cum! You’re almost there aren’t you? You wanna cum, Miss?” He’s throbbing against your backside, sliding in any way he can against you. Desperate for sweet friction but determined to ensure that this isn’t about him. Wet beads of precum staining the skin where the head of his member slides freely. “Cum for me? Don’ be scared you’re just cummin’. Are you tellin’ me you’ve never felt this before?” You shake your head profusely, and grab his wrist to find purchase. He doesn’t stop, his pounding almost bruising. Finally his fingers speed up just right against your clit and the small shriek that tumbles past your sobbing makes him choke out an obscenely loud moan. It sounds pornographic and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was the one being brutally pleasured. Despite barely any stimulation he was clearly as fucked out as you were, and he practically cums when a massive wave of sparkling slick splatters across his abdomen. It paints his wrist, his abs, his face, your thighs. Fat tears fall from your drunk eyes and he’s moaning again, “oh fuck-“ sorry, sorry, sorry, “you just squirted on me!” He’s laughing out loud, and your embarrassment makes you want to run away. That hasn’t happened before, I’m sorry! Gojo lays you down once again, his fingers barely leave your tight cavern.

 “I’ve never done that before.” Your pathetic whining from embarrassment nearly sends him over the edge, “oh my god I’m so sorry!”

 “No, no, no, awe, baby.” He’s cooing, kissing you once again, “uh uh, no apologizing, that was so sexy I almost came just from the sight of it.” you’re moaning some more at his soothing.

 “It was good, baby? 

 “So good, sweetheart.” his fingers slow to a stop. He brings them to his lips, gingerly

sucking them clean. His vulgar display has you clench around nothing. Satoru then positions his erection flush against your lower lips.

 “Wait, Satoru, I’ve never...” Your voice trails off and he sucks in a sharp breath eyes practically rolling to the back of his skull as he waits for you to finish your sentence, “I haven’t gone all the way.” You mewl when he pulls away to smack his hardness across the sputtering wetness.

 “Shit I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum.” He’s panting, and the state of his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks brings a pang to your heart. “I wasn’t gonna put it in, can I just feel you?” He licks the tears that escape from your eyes, and sucks on your desperate lips. His own desperation manifested in the form of shallow ruts against your overstimulated pussy. You nod, spreading your legs to welcome him further into your embrace. He tries not to let surprise take over his features as you reach out your hand to lay flat over his sliding prick. You apply pressure, and the both of you groan as a result. With you pressing his throbbing erection against your plushy folds as he slides back and forth it provides a sweet relief he’d been desperately needing. He was shameless in voicing his noises of pleasure, he was so sensitive considering it’d been a long time for him as well. Your noisy slick sloshing and creating a mess of you both fills the room. “God, this pussy is the best. So good baby.” His rutting picks up in pace, he tenderly holds your face just to kiss you hard. You’re both moaning into each other, noises filling his space so naturally.

 Slip and slide.

 Slipping and sliding.

 Your lower halves dance with each other so agonizingly, and you find yourself pushing him back to grind yourself on him. “Satoru I’m close again, ah.” Your head is thrown back, it’s as if you’re a siren calling out to him and he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Your features are cast in the dazzling lights of his tree. “Ah, ngh, ah!” You lean down, hands splayed across his pale chest, breasts scrunching together and he almost thrusts into you. He grabs your thighs, rocking you harder onto him. His groaning and grunting as your sweat and juices flow freely between you makes your slippery descent all the more intense. It’s sudden, your orgasm wracks through your entire body, “oh fuck!” You lean down to desperately kiss him, and he finds it adorable. You’re so cute and as he’s swiveling his hips upwards to chase his own high he lets you know.

 “So cute baby, so good for me. Cum all over me that’s right, I’m gonna cum too.” You were an affectionate and kissy partner, everything he’d ever wanted.

 “Cum for me,” you kiss him again, sucking on his bottom lip and then you bite it hard drawing back with a pop, “cum for me, baby.” He’s about to, his eyes roll back into his skull, but before he can you’re pulling away and making your way down his figure this time. You lick a thick stripe of saliva from his heavy balls all the way up to the tip of his swollen prick. You take him in easily, mouth being stuffed impossibly full. You’d been wanting this all night, to feel him down the back of your throat.

 Gojo was big, and you knew there was no way you’d be able to fit all of him into your mouth. That certainly didn’t stop you from trying, and as you’re sputtering and choking on him he gasps in encouragement. He’s seeing stars regardless, tensing to keep from spilling down your throat immediately. He steals a glance at your bobbing head, your timid freshly manicured fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and pumping what your mouth can’t take. It’s too much, and with only a couple measly thrusts he’s spilling into your mouth.

 “What are you an angel?!” He’s gasping, moaning like a porn star once again. Although you didn’t know much about him, Gojo being loud in bed somehow just made sense. “Shit take it, take it, take it.” He’s fucking his seed into your mouth, you attempt to breathe heavily through your nose and suppress as many gagging noises as you can. It’s sloppy, and bubbling past your lips and Gojo can’t stop himself. Drunk on you, drunk on the feeling of your lips; nether and otherwise against his dick. “Fuck I think I love you baby, holy shit you’re the best.” He’s rambling and you try not to let his fucked out confession freak you out. Rather than dwell on his pillow talk, you make a show of swallowing his load, sticking your tongue out once you’ve finished. “Shit come here, gimme a kiss sweetheart.” He’s grabbing you by the shoulders, pulling you to straddle him. You lean in to kiss him, the intensity from your orgasm fizzling out as you languidly rub your swollen lips together. You taste bitter and sweet at the same time, an almost dangerous combination for Satoru. The kiss you both share is dizzying, raw lips drawing together just to keep feeling each other. He sucks on your tongue and fondles your breasts some more, his hands having felt lonely without you in them. You think to yourself that if he did love you after one night of fooling around that you might be okay with it. 

 “Did you really enjoy it, Satoru?” You ask, but he doesn’t even need to answer. Not when he is gazing back at you with half lidded eyes, a lazy smile, sloppy hair, and a flushed chest, neck, and face. His lithe hands rub your sides in comfort, your shoulders in appreciation, your hips in adoration.

 “Gimme another kiss, sweetheart.” And you do, with no hesitation. It’s languid, romantic even. “Shit, wanna go again?”

 “I have to go home, Satoru, next time though.” His dumb smile has you bashfully looking away. When he reaches his pinky out in front of you, you grasp it.

 “Promise?”

 “Promise.” There would be a next time? He’s stupidly elated just thinking about such a promise. You’re grinning to yourself, without realizing it you stroke his hand soothingly. Fingers intertwining, there’s another feeling between the both of you blossoming.

 “So, about your Christmas plans?”

❄️

Satoru offered to give you a ride home once you’d both sobered up and you happily accepted. Before leaving, he was attentive, making sure your body was okay, that you weren’t sore anywhere. Tentative fingers brushed over your body with a dampened and warm washcloth, cleaning any mess that was made. He located your discarded clothes, handing them to you minus the pair of panties you came with. They were conveniently misplaced but your brain was so foggy that you didn’t care. He was clearly the best sexual partner you’d ever had, and you hoped that the good chemistry would be a constant among the both of you.

 The drive back was light, there wasn’t an awkward atmosphere, rather he seemed to be in a great mood and it rubbed off on you. You’re looking out the window, rosy cheeks scrunched into a giddy smile. His hand rested on your thigh, a caring thumb ran soothing circles in place. It was snowing again, the tiny flakes melted as they landed on the window. When you pull into your driveway for the final time, your hand meets his own where it rested.

 “I had a really good time.” you admit, although it was rather obvious. You sound hesitant like you weren’t sure how he would act around you now that everything was said and done. He didn’t like it. He brings your laced fingers up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles as he holds it against his cheek. 

 “We could have a better time tomorrow.” You smile and look away again.

 “I don’t know…” but you don’t pull your hand away, instead you bring yourself closer to him. You peer at him, biting your bottom lip nervously. “Isn’t that too soon?”

 “Never.” 

 “Hmmm…” you look at your house. The lights are off inside, your rooms window is at the front of the house on the second floor and you can see that it’s still on. You roll your eyes fondly, of course Eve was still awake. She confirms that by peeking her head out of your curtain, she spots Gojo’s car and immediately shuts it. “Well, I’d love to.”

 “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He kisses your hand again and you think to yourself that you wished he would just kiss you again. As if reading your mind he gently cups your face and brings you in for one. It’s languid, and while it wasn’t meant to be deep it naturally evolved into something bordering on intense. He can’t get enough of you, his insatiable lips ravage yours and you crawl into his lap across the way. He leans his seat back, pleased with the steamy development, and his hands go from caressing your face to traveling down your back and finally down to grope the plump of your backside. You whimper, but continue the lip lock. Your tongue experimentally traces his bottom lip and he groans, opening up for you to explore him again. He’s rutting his hips up, it isn’t serious by any means he had no actual desire to take it any further than that. You grind down on him, your movement turning sloppy. Before things can blossom into anything else, you pull away, a string of saliva snapping between the both of you. His hands are still on your ass, and yours are in his hair. He’s flushed, panting, and you can’t help but kiss him again. Your neediness makes him laugh but reciprocates all the same. He was so messy but the way he handled you was absolute perfection. You break apart, finally, and you look behind you to make sure no one else is around. Paranoid your family might see you.

 “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You finally say, departing from his warmth painfully. You leave then, closing his car door gently as you do. You look behind you and wave, he’s smiling while resting his chin on his toned arms.. They’re folded over his steering wheel while he watches you go inside. He waves back, a little shake of his wrist and you finally disappear into the warmth of your home. The walk of shame (at a less than appropriate hour) was surprisingly not as bad as it could have been. No one is up to catch you other than your mother in the kitchen, she’d gotten up for a midnight snack and met you while you were putting the dishes in the sink. They’d be tomorrow's problem. 

 “How was it dear?” She asks gently, sliding a glass of hot chocolate your way.

 “Good, we watched some Christmas specials over dinner and talked for a bit.” you know that it shouldn’t have taken you this long to get back, and she knows that too, but she smiles and nods along.

 “That sounds wonderful, we’ll invite him over next time.”

 “How about tomorrow?”

 “I’m sure he’d love that.” You smile back at her, you would love that too. You sip your cocoa until it’s gone, chatting with your mother about unimportant things. She retires before you do, and you quietly make your way up to your room. Your creaking footsteps cause you to cringe, and as soon as you’re twisting the doorknob your friend jumps up from her spot on your bed.

 “Fucking finally, oh my god tell me everything!”

a/n: erm would y'all let gojo go down on u the first day u met him?

◼️yes

◼️definitely

◼️absolutely

i scattered different references to a few christmas songs so i hope y’all catch em :3 merry xmas and happy holidays hope y'all enjoyed ~🐇🎄❄️

header by @strangergraphics 🖤