#of course i am kidding about everything above

[peculiarbeauty]

activity notice: i will be mobile for the duration of this week as my husband and i are flying down to his hometown to meet with family. i will be here , but i can't promise replies will be going out as frequently during this time as it is quite busy !!

also , my husband has never seen lil.o and st.itch so i am fixing that today asap <33

[just-rogi]

.

[thursdayg1rl]

while i wait for them to come i have a story to tell actually

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[steddiewithachance]

"You Should Date My Nephew"

"433-6296". Wayne mouthes to himself. He visualizes the little slip of lined paper that's taped to the wall above their phone at home. 433-6296. He could call. But he wont.

Wayne grunts as he lowers himself to sit on the curb outside the plant. He got off work --he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch-- 36 minutes ago. It's 3:36 am and god dammit Eddie how many times did he remind the kid to set his alarm. How many times did Wayne remind Eddie that his truck was in the shop and that he'd need a ride home in the morning. And every single time he'd mention it, Eddie responded "I got it old man! I'll set an alarm" with an exasperated eye roll and would go back to whatever he was doing. Wayne has tried calling the trailer a dozen times already and damn that boy for being such a heavy sleeper.

433-6296. Wayne could probably solve his problem with a single call, but that would be completely inconsiderate and borderline inappropriate, so he wont. A gust of cold November wind hits Wayne unforgivingly in the face and makes his eyes water. He pulls a pack of camels from his chest pocket and with stiff, shaky hands, lights one. 433-6296. He could call or he could walk home. The walk wasn't easy in ideal weather when Wayne was fully rested. Right now it was freezing, Wayne didn't have his good jacket, and he just finished an eight hour shift. 433-6296. Fuck it.

Wayne stands up and hurries toward the phone before he can talk himself out of this. It's insane, and he knows the poor kid barely sleeps as it is. Knows from Eddie that he'll pick up the phone anytime Eddie has a nightmare and drive over to talk him out of the bad dream, keep him company, or fall asleep on the floor of Eddie's bedroom so his nephew doesn't have to go back to sleep alone in a haunted home. 433-6296 Wayne dials and waits with baited breath.

The phone rings a handful of times before a quiet voice greets him on the other side of the line.

"H'llo? Eds?"

"Uh hi Steve. It's Wayne?" Wayne says quietly into the phone. Steve seems to sober immediately.

"Mr. Munson? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?"

"Yeah no everythin's fine. I'm sure Eddie's safe and sound at home. Look, I'm real sorry to wake you, kid, and I'm sorry to even be askin' you in the first place. I know it's mighty unfair of me to call at this time but uh- My trucks in the shop and Eddie was supposed to pick me up from work forty minutes ago but I think he mighta slept through his alarm. And it's too far for an old man like me to walk. Was wondering if I might owe you a helluva favor if you could pick me up tonight, son." For a few moments there is silence. Wayne worries he has crossed a line, for a brief moment he fears he might have burnt the most important bridge in Eddie's life. He's immediately regretting waking Steve up for this.

But then he hears the distinct rustling and thump of someone putting on shoes.

"Of course Mr. Munson, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can." And Wayne is once again floored by this kid's kindness.

"Steve, thank you. I owe you son. Whatever you need."

"It's no problem! I'll see you soon."

"See you." Wayne mutters in disbelief and hangs up the phone.

And to think... Wayne used to hate Steve. The thing about Steve Harrington is that his name is haunted, in a way. And the thing about Wayne Munson is that he's a stubborn son of a bitch who will hold grudges on Eddie's behalf longer than the kid himself will. There were countless days in high school when instead of shooting through the front door of the trailer after school with a devilish grin and music blasting from his headphones, Eddie would turn the knob slowly and he'd drag himself into the house, giving Wayne a small nod before disappearing into his room quietly. Wayne felt like crying or punching something when Eddie came home in low spirits. He knew how evil the kids at school could be, and he knew the names of all the bad ones. Wayne always gave Eddie 10 minutes of quiet before he'd knock on his door and gently ask if he wanted to talk. It was a routine they had. He'd ask and Eddie would say no. But then like clockwork, Eddie would open up about his day later in the evening usually while they ate dinner and before Wayne left for work. He'd complain about all the kids that made him feel bad: Hagan, Harrington, Perkins, Hargrove, Carver, and so many more.

So imagine Wayne's surprise on March 27, 1986 when he briefly left Eddie's hospital room to get coffee and returned to Steve Harrington, the bully son of Richard and Nicole, sitting next to his nephew's hospital bed. It had been a long week of worrying on Wayne's part, and an emotional 48 hours spent at Eddie's bedside, so Wayne had very little patience for whatever was happening in front of him. In retrospect, Steve Harrington was looking at Eddie... sweet and tenderly, even back then. But in the moment all he could think about was Eddie returning from school with hunched shoulders and his head hung low.

"The hell are you doing here?" Wayne asked using his gruffest and most intimidating voice, arms crossed, standing in the doorway. The way that Steve startled was like nothing like Wayne had ever seen. He jumped a foot into the air and folded into himself.

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I'm sorry I didn't know you were around. Just, uh, didn't want him to be alone in case he woke up." Steve had said rising from his seat. When Wayne didn't budge from the doorway or respond, Steve nervously fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.

"How do you know Eddie?" Wayne asked trying to keep his firm tone.

"From high school sir. But also through a mutual friend. Dustin Henderson? They play DND together. Dustin and I brought him in after we found him like this..." Steve lifted his head again gauging Wayne's still stern expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to interrupt anything I'll get out of your hair."

And Wayne wanted to be skeptical of Steve, wanted to accuse him of doing this to Eddie, but the truth is that Steve sounded painfully earnest. And there's no human explanation for the tiny bite marks all over Eddie's body. Wayne stepped out of the doorway and let Steve take a few steps down the hallway before calling out to him.

"Hey, Harrington?" Steve turned around quickly, looking back with a startled expression, maybe surprised that Wayne knew his name at all. "D'ja see what happened? I mean d'ya know anythin about what hurt him?" Wayne asked more softly. Steve looked around the crowded hallway, with nurses buzzing from door to door. Steve shook his head slightly, apologized, and continued down the hallway.

But Steve didn't stay out of his hair for long. The kid was exasperatingly persistent in being around for Eddie. And while Wayne kept a watchful eye on him, he was starting to get the idea that Steve Harrington was not who Wayne thought he was. He cooked for, cleaned after, and tended to Eddie, asking for nothing in return. Often refusing to stay for dinner when Wayne was home, even if he was the one who cooked it, because he didn't want to interrupt family time. If he brought food from out he always brought something for Wayne, and never took the money Wayne tried to push into his hands for it.

"Here, Mr. Munson. I wasn't sure what you wanted from the diner, but Eddie said you're not picky so I brought you a burger and fries." Steve had said that first time, holding out a bag in front of him.

"You brought me food?" Wayne asked perplexed.

"Well yeah, of course. I wouldn't have shown up with dinner for just me and Eddie." Steve set Wayne's bag on the counter when he made no move to take it.

By now Steve knew Wayne and Eddie's order at pretty much every food place in Hawkins and Wayne and Eddie were getting real creative at finding ways to slip money into Steve's wallet.

On top of that, almost every other day, Wayne gets home from work to find a maroon bmw parked outside his place while Steve helps Eddie through bad dreams. So what could Wayne be, besides grateful, for Steve Harrington's slightly confusing devotion to his kid?

He's snapped out of his thoughts when said maroon bmw pulls up in front of him. Steve is wearing a pair of wired glasses and his hair is all ruffled from sleep. Wayne opens the passenger door.

"You were waiting for forty minutes in the cold? Why didn't you call sooner?" Steve asked pushing up his glasses as Wayne closes the door quickly. And well... Wayne doesn't know how to respond to that.

"I- I shouldn'ta had to call you in the first place, Steve. I'm real sorry" Wayne says as Steve pulls the car out of park and starts driving back towards the trailer park. Wayne glances over at Steve waiting for the kid to say something. They sit in heavy silence until Steve breaks it by clearing his throat.

"Just... I know you're probably mad at Eddie but- but don't yell at him. He's barely sleeping so he really just needs the rest. It's not his fault." Steve ends on a whisper.

A tidal wave of different emotions rip through Wayne. Affection for Steve's caring nature, immense gratitude that Eddie has someone like Steve in his life, disbelief that Steve would say something like that after being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. Wayne was sitting and staring at the most selfless kid he'd ever met. Steve fucking Harrington.

"You should date my nephew."

Steves eyes widen and the car swerves.

"Uh- s-sorry- what?" Steve stammers.

"If I could choose someone for him, the best option out there, I'd choose you." Wayne says honestly, and he didn't even know he'd been thinking it until this moment. But it's so true. After so many heartbreaks over truly terrible men that Wayne could never see the appeal of, Eddie deserves someone like Steve. Steve face softens before checking to make sure Wayne was being sincere. Steve cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.

"What, you think I'm jokin'?" Wayne asks defensively.

"No sir! Not at all. It's just Eddie and I have been dating for months already. BUT- but- thank you for saying that! It means so much to me and truly Eddie's the best thing-"

"You- what?" Suddenly Wayne is embarrassed. Blushing. How'd he... how'd he miss that? And well, he did have a few moments where he thought the two of them were awfully close for a pair of young men, at least one of which who was openly queer, but they'd been through a lot together.

"Why did no one tell me?" Wayne asks turning his face away from Steve who is desperately fighting a huge grin and losing.

"We thought you knew. We sleep in the same bed every night."

"You do what now? Thought you were sleepin' on the floor" Wayne knows he sounds like the protective dad of a teenage girl and not the uncle to an adult man, but his world was just turned sideways. Steve laughs at that and adjusts his glasses before stopping at the red traffic light which almost immediately turns green because no one is out at this hour.

"Oh well. Good, I'm glad then." Wayne says after his mind has stopped spinning. "And call me Wayne already, you basically live at my house." He punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.

"Okay." Steve agrees quietly. He pulls into Forest Hills and stops the car in front of the Munson's place. "Mind if I just check to make sure he's okay before I leave? For peace of mind?" Wayne opens the door and steps out.

"Oh so now you're playing coy about sharing a bed? Just sleep here, kid" Wayne closes the door and heads towards the house. Steve jogs a little to catch up. When they open the door, the sound of an obnoxious alarm comes pouring out from the back of the house which concerns both of them. But when Steve hurries to Eddie's room he sees that the idiot had fallen asleep with music blasting in his headphones. Wayne stops the alarm as Steve gently tries to remove the headphones from his ears pausing the tape inside.

Eddie suddenly stirs and blinks up at Wayne and Steve looking down at him.

"'S going on?" He croaks, rubbing his eyes. Wayne and Steve share a look before Wayne chuckles and pats Steve on the back once before thanking him and wishing him a good night on the way out. After the door closes behind Wayne, Eddie looks back up at Steve. "What's going on baby? What happened?"

Steve slips into the bed and scoffs, fondly. He curls around Eddie and pulls him into his chest. Once they've settled, Steve pushes his fingers through Eddie's until they're all intertwined.

"Did you forget something, Bambi? Was there someone you had to pick up from work at 3 in the morning?" Steve whispers into his neck. Suddenly Eddie shoots up and dislodges Steve where he was leaning against him. Steve groans.

"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit"

"Eddie it's okay c'mere. He's home now, it's all good babe." But Eddie just stares at the wall and pulls a hand through his hair. "No one is mad, just come back here. Let's sleep." And Eddie hesitantly lies back down.

"Did Uncle Wayne have to call you? I'm so fucking sorry Stevie." Eddie asks, sounding embarrassed.

"We had a nice conversation on the way home so it all worked out. You're okay. Sleeeeep."

And right before they both fall asleep, Eddie whispers, "Thanks Stevie, love you."

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Perspectives

marshmallow floof plot: Megumi recalls you and Gojo falling in love through his eyes. content: fem! reader, megumi is in denial about caring about Gojo, Gojo is obsesseddddd with you shamelessly, but its okay because so are you with him! warning!: megumi is not good with emotions :/ or tolerating Gojo word count: 5.7k satoru gojo x reader note: can we pretend utahime and gojo are the same age pls and thank u - also i am delusional and in my head suguru did not defect so gojo never had to go thru all of that okay <3333 anywau i hope you enjoy!! put a lot of thought and love into this!

At only six years old, Megumi was already quite intelligent. As an extremely perceptive child, he understood far more than he should have at such an age. Typically, kids his age were naive and gullible; Megumi however was the complete opposite, and that was partially due to his aloofness.

When Satoru Gojo first met Megumi, he felt like he was talking to a grandpa in a miniature body, sassing anyone who dare interact with his little self. As stern and as gloomy as the boy persisted on to be, though, Gojo picked up on hints of tenderness and compassion laced between every word Megumi spoke about his sister, Tsumiki. Easily, Gojo could discern what he deemed too much deeply rooted pain and defensiveness in the young Fushiguro. Having his guard up was engraved into his mind; the wall he placed between him and the world had it's own sector in his immune system and acted with automaticity, an innate defense mechanism.

Despite all of the anguish intertwined in every breath Megumi exhaled, and despite his cold nature he employed to protect himself from being hurt again as he has before; despite being abandoned, and despite not being surprised he was; despite not even hitting double digits, yet already carrying the attitude of a the wisest owl; despite all of the thoughts racing through Gojo's head, he knew Megumi was special. Though a part of it may have been due to the responsibility he felt over the boy after murdering his father, Satoru Gojo was confident in one thing: he would take care of this kid like his life depended on it.

From then on, Gojo took the role of Megumi's benefactor, funding him and his sister so that they could live without worry. Megumi begrudgingly allowed him to endow his life, though it was rather difficult. The guy was so over-the-top and bothersome when he decided to actually go and physically check up him. Visits from were sparse, though, if Megumi really cared or needed anything, Gojo was always a text away.

And soon he would learn that you were, too.

The first time your existence was brought to Fushiguru's attention, it was mildly unintentional on Gojo's end. He was completing his routine check-in on Megumi about six months after taking him under his wing, ensuring he was doing fine in school - other than the fights he found himself in every now and again, of course. And after everything checked out okay, he rambled on about his week and how exhausting it was being the strongest, greatest individual to exist in this time and how much Yaga has been up his ass since he was promoted to principal and blah blah blah...

"Can you believe he was expecting me to get to the school before nine A.M.? Hah! Funny man. I need my beauty sleep. How else would I always look this handso- Oh!"

Megumi, who was in no way religious, praised in that moment whatever God up above sent a call to Gojo's phone at that exact moment, for he failed to believe he could have pretended to listen to another second of his unimportant and unnecessary rant. It truly was over-the-top, and Megumi was not a fan. He had never, nor did he think he would ever, warmed up to the way Gojo's ego seems to make a nearly empty room feel claustrophobic.

"Heyyyyy!" Gojo dragged, acting like a highschool girl with the way he twirled the end of his hair and giggled at whoever was at other end of the phone. If Megumi cared to look closely enough (which he totally doesn't, since he is so disinterested in Gojo and does not dare to look at him too long or he will automatically become annoyed), a rosy hue could barely be seen on the apples of the older man's cheeks, growing more and more apparent the longer the phone call went on.

Obviously, Megumi did not want to listen to the likely boring conversation, but since he was stuck in the same room as Gojo, he had no other choice but to eavesdrop on the phone call. Or, more accurately, he was playing detective to solve the mystery of who on the other end was transforming Gojo, as childish as he is, into a tweenage boy talking to a cute girl for the first time.

"I'm with Fushiguru, actually," Megumi overheard, his interest only minutely piqued after hearing his name. Whoever was on the other end must have known who he was already given the way Gojo did not feel the need to elaborate on who exactly Fushiguru was. That irked Megumi.

"Yeah, just hanging out, you know. I'd say we're best buds! Right, Megumi?" Gojo moved the phone away from his ear and looked at the boy across from him expectedly.

"No," is all Megumi spoke in response.

Gojo's eyes widened slightly, not expecting such a response, before he laughed and continued, "Silly guy! Such a silly guy."

The call took way too long and Megumi was half tempted to leave the room, but he was still getting used to Gojo and did not fully understand what his role was in his current situation. Was Gojo considered a houseguest? Was Megumi supposed to have something prepared as a thank you? Even if he was, he wouldn't do that for Gojo. What if something went wrong, or Gojo did something stupid? Tsumiki was at her after school club, being the natural social butterfly she was. Megumi had assumed the role of the man of the house at merely seven, and he was not going to disappoint her or let anything go haywire on his watch. This was his roof, and nothing would happen to their humble little abode under his watch.

Finally, Gojo said his goodbyes to whoever he was speaking to, set his phone down, and sighed in the most i-must-be-living-in-a-daydream-because-there-is-no-way-life-can-be-this-good-and-i-am-so-in-love-but-i-dont-even-know-it sort of way.

"You would like her," Gojo broke the silence after a few moments of savoring the butterflies in his stomach.

"Who was that?" Megumi queried, and if Gojo listened closely, he could hear echos of intense interest in the boy's simple question.

"A friend from work."

"You don't have friends."

"Hey!"

-----

After your existence was brought to light, it became a thing that whenever Gojo visited, he spent half the time on the phone - whether texting or on a phone call, it didn't matter. He was always talking to you.

Megumi supposed he should have felt grateful since Gojo finally became less unbearable. His check-ins, although hard to predict when they would be or how long in between they would reoccur, became less about how much Gojo loves himself and more about... well, you. It was a nice change from hearing his neverending egocentric comments, to be fair. Megumi was not complaining.

"You remember her, right, Megumi?" he asked while walking Megumi home from school one day. He was on a tyrant about something that had happened at Jujutsu High a few days prior before realizing he might had forgotten about the most important detail: you. The chance that Megumi may not even know who he was speaking about generated a sharp gasp escaping from Gojo's lips.

"Yes. She's all you talk about," Megumi deadpanned. What a stupid question, the boy thought to himself, when Gojo asked this every single time he bothered to show his face around here.

Gojo chuckled, responding in a voice that was way up in the clouds, as if he was skipping through a meadow abundant with good feelings and the potential for new relationships, "Hm, yeah. I guess you're right! Sorry, kid. Just had to make sure you knew."

At this point, Megumi learned a lot about you: You taught second-year sorcerers at Tokyo Jujutsu High, you went to Kyoto Jujutsu High, you were in same year as Gojo was, you were acquaintances for a while, your best friend (unfortunately so, as Gojo whined when he told Megumi) was Utahime, who was oddly protective of you and rude for no reason to Gojo (it is most definitely within reason), you were the most selfless person to walk the surface of this planet, you cared more for others than for yourself, and you and Gojo were really, really, really good friends now that you worked together and you two were close and he was friends with you and you texted him all the time and hung out too and you spent time together and you are theprettiestpersonhehadeverplacedhissixeyeson-

Basically, Megumi knew more about you than he comfortably should, and you were all Gojo seemed to talk about now.

Megumi found it sort of... endearing how much Gojo spoke about you. For someone so certain in himself and all of his glory, it was nice to hear him talk about someone else that way. He discerned an innocent intent in Gojo's actions, from the soft grin that graced his face when he rattled on about you, to the way he had begun to ask eight-year-old Megumi for advice on women (which he has surprisingly been helpful with - especially the time when Gojo didn't know if you'd prefer a specific flavor of mochi over another, and Megumi's suggestion ended up being the perfect one because it was your favorite). And though he would never, ever utter the words out loud, Megumi enjoyed hearing Gojo talk about you. It brought him down to earth and made him feel more like a mortal being; even Satoru Gojo crushed, fawning over you like you were a brand new toy and he was a toddler unwrapping gifts on Christmas Day. Even the man who had everything in the world simply wanted just like the rest of the world; he yearned for things in life that he did not ("Not yet, but surely soon!" Megumi was certain Gojo would say if he could read minds) have.

The two boys sat together at Megumi's, eating some sweets Gojo brought back from his mission. Gojo had a bouquet of flowers set delicately on the table in front of him, preparing himself to go to your house after his pep talk with Megumi and ask you on a date. Finally.

Staring at the flowers beside him, Gojo resolved to pick a flower out of the bouquet; a pretty, pale pink daisy that reminded him of the shade of your cheeks when he teased you. He rolled the green stem of the daisy back and forth between his index finger and thumb while echoing the declarations of his planned speech confessing his feelings for you. He had his heartfelt soliloquy memorized, but he was still feeling... apprehensive.

"She loves me," Gojo began, plucking a petal off of the flower and setting it delicately on the table. He spoke lowly, as if his life depended on the resolution he would find when he would extricate the last of the daisy's petals.

Megumi looked up from the book he was reading - a true crime mystery he had been quite invested in - to figure out what the man next to him was doing.

"She loves me not," Gojo plucked another petal, placing it on top of the other one he had already taken off.

Ah, Megumi understood it now. He's transforming into a child; his obsession with you had turned his brain to mush. He had now, mentally, been beat by Megumi, descending into the intellect a five year old smitten with a kindergarten crush.

"She loves me!" Gojo chirped. He plucked another petal before reporting with a glum tone, "She loves me not."

This went on and on. Megumi observed without a word and Gojo continuing the game that is so typically played on on a children's playground.

How on earth did you have such a drastic effect a man so above the rest of society? The man put on a pedestal by all of the Jujutsu world; the one who could take on any obstacle and leave without a scratch; the same guy who died and brought himself back to life; he could isolate himself from the rest of the world in an instant using only his limitless technique, yet, you always found a way to draw him back him - and somehow, somewhere in the mix, you had The Strongest Sorcerer wrapped around your finger.

"She loves me, Megumi!" Gojo proclaimed when he picked the final petal from the flower. "I mean, of course she does. Look at me."

Ah, there was the daily dose of Gojo's big ego; his head was as inflated as expected, but was on display little later than usual. Megumi referred to it as The Daily Dose of Gojo: DDG. He was bound to hear at least once a day about how much Gojo loved himself, whether through text or in person. But today, it was more like he was venturing to persuade himself on that fact, too.

Megumi then realized that this was the first time he had seen Gojo nervous.

He wondered what about you could make Gojo nervous, because not even the strongest of curses causes The Strongest Sorcerer to break into a sweat. What exactly is it that you have that grants you the title of the one human who could make Satoru Gojo nervous? He understood that you were special to him, but he still had never met you, and he is starting to want to.

He wasn't sure why he felt so protective over you. You were a twenty-year-old woman who he has never even met in person, even though he knew from Gojo the color of your eyes and the smell of the perfume you always wore. One thing was for sure, though: if Satoru Gojo messed with your heart, Megumi would fight him with all of the effort his child body could exert in one go, then kick his ass all the way to the core of the earth to be at such a heat that his infinity disfunctioned, ensuring he suffers for ever even considering toying with your feelings.

-----

"Fushiguru!" Gojo hollered as Megumi exit his elementary school.

Megumi glared at the white-haired male as he stalked toward him, untrusting of the motives at play. Gojo watched the child over the rims of his sunglasses, a toothy smile spread across his face while he waved excitedly. He had something planned, as per usual.

"What do you want?" Megumi groaned, and he eyed the two individuals in front of him with suspicion, though he already had an idea on who you were.

It was an uncommon sight for him to be picked up from school, but for Gojo to be accompanied by someone other than Ijichi was borderline shocking. There was only one person you could be, however, and Megumi suppressed the fluttering of excitement he felt as he saw you.

"Hey! Rude to speak to your elders like that," Gojo jested flippantly. "I want you two to meet!"

Fushiguru listened as Gojo repeated every syllable of your name that he has repeated a million times before. It rolled smoothly off of his lips, like caramel drizzle on the sweetest treat from his favorite bakery. It has been about two months since you, somehow willingly, agreed to a date with Gojo. It has been about a month since you agreed to officially be his girlfriend, which Yaga was not the most pleased to hear, but Gojo dealt with that and ensured the security of both of your jobs.

"Hi, Fushiguru!" You waved, a wide smile adorning your face. "Nice to meet you! Gojo talks about you all of the time."

"Hi," Megumi quietly said. He suddenly felt shy in your presence. You stood in front of him in all of your beauty, with the kindest smile on your face and the softest look in your eye, gazing at him as if he were the most important person in the world. Gojo did not do you justice when describing you to him.

And suddenly, everything Gojo ever said about you made complete sense - now, he finally understood how even the famed Satoru Gojo fell victim to the enigma that was you.

"I'm a friend of Gojo's! I wanted to meet you, and I don't know if you would want to, but I would love to get to know you," you offered. You folded your hands together in front of you and smiled politely toward the young boy. You were doing your best to not look too nervous because you really did want to get to know this kid, but from what Gojo's told you, he was not the most sociable character. Something about his melancholy aura is rather intimidating, to say the least, and you were doing your best to accommodate.

"...will he be there?" the kid questioned after some thought. As he spoke, he pointed his thumb toward his benefactor who immediately took offense to whatever he was implying, whining loudly in the background of what had become the two of yours conversation.

"Who, Gojo? Oh, well, he doesn't have to be," you suggested over Gojo's objections. "It can just be you and me. Or, if you are more comfortable with it, he can come with-"

"No. No Gojo," he interrupted. Gojo continued in his protests, but they all drowned into white noise as Megumi continued. "But sure."

You craved so badly to smile widely, high five Gojo for the feat you just accomplished, jump up and down, and display your excitement for his agreement on your face. But you were so worried you would scare him off, so instead, you opted for a soft smile while you said, "Great! Is now okay?

"Sure," he returned, emotionless as always.

"Perfect. Your pick on what we do. And it's on Gojo!"

And you walked away, ignoring Gojo whining after you. You'd coddle him tonight when he would inevitably pout to you about abandoning him for a little kid. For now, though, the important task at hand was getting to know Megumi Fushiguru - who reluctantly held your hand as you walked to the arcade he selected.

From then on, you were a common face in Megumi's life.

When he was in fourth grade, the two of you started a tradition where every other week, you would pick him up early from school and get ice cream and talk (as much as Megumi was willing to, at least). You had surprised him after school one day a couple months ago, and the routine stuck after he asked you to go again the couple weeks later. Not that you ever complained - you would never in your right mind take for granted Megumi willingly hanging out with you.

"So, how has school been?" you probed, Megumi begrudgingly held your hand as you walked through the busy streets of Tokyo (he claimed he was old enough to walk on his own, but you told him it was just for your own sanity in the scary world of Tokyo and when he turned ten you wouldn't do it anymore, and who was he to deny you of peace of mind when that is all you ever wished upon everyone els?).

"Fine," Megumi muttered. He was not the most fond of crowds, which was glaringly obvious as he squeezed your hand more aggressively the farther you ventured into the city. So yeah, maybe he did kind of appreciate your overprotectiveness.

That was the day you learned Megumi had his first crush.

Well, okay, it wasn't really a crush. He just thought someone was cute.

As you sat side-by-side, he ate his vanilla ice cream cone with chocolate sprinkles, you ate your choice of ice cream, and the two of you chatted - meaning you talked, and he occasionally threw in a word or two.

"Any girls you think are cute? Or guys?" You sought, emphasizing the teasing nature of your question by tapping your elbow into his side. Megumi glared up at you through the strands of his hair, but you could see the red tint on his pale skin - a sign you were on to something. "Ooooh! Tell me all about them!"

"Stop it," he sulked and stared off into the distance, ice cream forgotten in his hand. You could tell he was thoroughly embarrassed, but you just could not for the life of you get over how adorable he looked.

"Aw, Megumi. I'm just teasing. But you can always talk about that with me, you know?" you offered. "I can give you all the advice on girls. I would not recommend asking Gojo about them. His flirting skills are... unconventional. Plus, I know I'm your favorite. So just gives an excuse to rub it in his face!"

"Thanks," Megumi spoke broodingly. His ice cream was starting to melt a little down the side of the waffle cone. The treat regained his attention as he finally noticed the melting mess, and immediately, he tackled cleaning it up. He hated messes.

"So... does that mean I'm your favorite?" you interrogated. This had been a debate between you and your boyfriend for a long time now.

"Sure."

And amongst the crowds of people, you - a full grown adult - hollered and jumped up and pumped your fist in satisfaction, because that was the best thing anyone had every said to you.

-----

Megumi took back whenever he had the ignorant thought that Gojo was becoming more bearable. Completely rescinded it. He was absolutely the most unbearable human to ever have walked this planet; residing in the same millennia as this man was barely tolerable, let alone inhaling the same air or sitting in the same room.

Gojo wanted to propose to you and he wouldn't stop talking about it.

Or asking Megumi for advice.

Yeah. Satoru Gojo was asking an eleven-year-old boy for help proposing to his long-term girlfriend.

You had been dating for over three years, and Gojo was growing impatient; he wanted you to be fully his. Not that you weren't already, but he wanted to be officially - by the law, by the symbol of marriage, and by the ceremony that accompanied it. He wanted you to take his name and be a new addition to the Gojo lineage, and if it came to the day, maybe add some little ones to the family. It was getting the point where want wasn't enough to describe how he felt - it was a necessity to marry to, to be yours forever.

Megumi had grown a lot closer with you with the past months, even opening up a little. He mentioned to you his internal debate regarding "good people" and "bad people", to which you listened, you heard him, and you cared. Genuinely. You hugged him, and in that moment, he felt so loved, he never wanted to leave your arms - the arms that would protect him from anything scary, like nightmares or curses, and shield him from experiencing any more hardships. He wasn't used to that - yeah he had his sister, whom he loved so dearly and she did in return, to be cared by a motherly figure was something he had barely experienced.

For the life of him, he could not figure out how or why you willingly, even happily, subjected yourself to the hinderance that was Gojo. Every time he asked you why, you respond, "Oh, Megumi, you're a funny one!" and laughed the heartwarming laugh that made him feel like home. Megumi knew, deep down somewhere he wouldn't ever like to admit, that you were happy, and Gojo made you happy. He knew you loved Gojo. He was fully aware of all of that. And he had witnessed as your relationship grew more serious with time Gojo beginning to think for more than just himself - he grew as an individual, doing what he thought was best for the ones he loved, rather than what suited him best. Megumi knew that come to it, Gojo would lay down his life for you. If it meant making a deal with the most dangerous curse, or if it meant sacrificing his soul, Gojo would do it for you, and honestly, Megumi had the inkling that Gojo would do it for him too.

"What if I have a plane do the whole 'marry me?' in the sky? Ugh, but that is so overdone. I need to be creative and go all out for her. What do you think, Megumi?" Gojo inquired, to which Megumi only tuned back in because he heard the sound of his name.

"Just ask her. You know she'll say yes," Megumi grumbled what he already knew was fact.

"Well, of course she will. Who would turn down my handsome self?" Gojo gestures to his person, a confident smile on his lips. "But you're right. Ugh, Megumi, what do I do?" Gojo held an ebony ring box, anxiously passing it from one hand to the other and back, the piece of jewelry it contained an indicator of how serious he was about this. Why he was carrying such an expensive ring around so casually was beyond Megumi's pay grade, but he knew Gojo would not let anything happen to it.

"You'll figure it out," Megumi said, as he had no ideas either - you deserved everything in the world, and no proposal or material thing would be enough to thank you for all you have done for everyone else.

"Oh my god, I did!" Gojo jumped from his seat, giddy as a little kid, and celebrated whatever idea he came up with. He placed the ring box in his pocket, where he would protect it with every cell in his body.

"Great," Megumi said. He prayed to himself that Gojo would now finally get out of his hair.

"I'll take her on a nice trip - she's always wanted to sightsee in Europe, but hasn't had the time - and then, once we land in Greece, I'll do it there and- and I'll leave it at that. Don't wanna spoil the surprise yet for everyone. Thanks Megumi!"

And Megumi smiled a tiny little smile to himself as Gojo exited his house, excited for the two of you.

And he congratulated you when you came home from the trip Gojo planned for the two of you. You visited him and ran up, showing off the ring you were sure Gojo spared no expense on. Though, Megumi had already seen it from the hundreds of times Gojo showed him it, and not to mention all the pictures you send him from overseas.

And he continued to be excited for you as he helped you with planning - because if there is one thing to know about Megumi, it's that he is organized. So he helped you figure your ceremony out by ensuring all the paperwork you had and the appointments you booked and all of your purchases were kept track of, or else the wedding would have been a disaster. If Gojo asked him for help, though, he would laugh in his face and say absolutely not.

And then, before he knew it, the wedding was there. Megumi was the ring bearer, of course. He was almost 13 at that point, and he was starting to grow into himself and show signs of growing up (puberty!).

He felt... happy.

Happy for you. Happy for the new and official makeshift family that established itself. Happy to know that you were genuinely happy, and that for all of the love you constantly gave to others without hesitation, someone gave finally was giving you that love back, and then some. Because he saw how much Gojo adored you, and honestly, there was no one else he would want to be with you.

Now he stands, at Tokyo Jujutsu High for his first year at the school. His benefactor who drives him up the wall is his teacher, and now, not only does he have to deal with him normally, but he actually has to listen to him.

But at least you're there too. He has you, always.

And for that, he smiles. A rare smile reserved for the sparse moments where he is genuinely happy - and he is, because he knows you'll save him from Gojo if he needs you to.

The improvised family he's found himself in may not be exactly what he dreamed of, but he's happy with it nonetheless.

And he still struggles with the dilemma of what is good or bad, and he still struggles to find his purpose in the world, and he is still angry at the universe for putting him in this world when there was no reason for him to be there, and he still struggles with the pain of abandonment and his found comfort in solidarity.

But that's okay. It'll be okay. He has you. He has you because Gojo brought you into his life.

He's grateful for that.

Megumi hopes one day he can find the love you share for himself. But that's a problem for the distant future. And when he has another crush, you will be the first to know - not because he would admit it to you, but because somehow, you always know. You know him better than he knows himself at this point, and it's a scary talent you have, but one you most definitely possess.

With that, Megumi steps forward, walking alongside you into the building he will be at almost everyday for the next few years. While he wasn't holding your hand like old times, it was okay. Because he was growing up, and he had a future ahead of him that made you so excited for him.

"I'll see you later, Meg. Got a long day ahead," you bid farewell and ruffle his hair. The two of you stop in the barren hallway facing each other, and you are disappointed at how he keeps growing, and at some point in the near future, he will surpass your height. It feels like you're shrinking, honestly, with how fast he's growing.

But you always knew he would at some point, just like you knew that he would one day decline holding your hand while in public, and how one day he would outgrow your ice cream runs (though they still happen every now and then, just not as frequent as in the past).

"See you," Megumi responds.

"Love ya!" You lean and place a chaste kiss on the side of Megumi's head. You remember when you used to be able to place one on the top of his head without going on your tiptoes, but times are changing, or you're shrinking or whatever, and the side of the head will do.

"Yeah, love you, too," Megumi says, rushing the end of the sentence and turning around to walk away. You say it to him so often, and he loves you, but it's still difficult for him to express that.

But that's okay. It's all okay.

He knows whatever is in the future, you will protect him, and Gojo will watch over him, and everything will be okay. The two of you will love him unconditionally, even if he struggles to say it back.

And he'll never admit it, but if there is one thing he's grateful for in life, it's Gojo, for he brought you into his life, and what a blessing it is to exist at the same time as you do.

"So, let me get this straight," you begin, staring at the three individuals in front of you. "You sent Megumi alone to find Sukuna's finger at some school, which was taken by random students who tried to unravel it, which ended in this kid-"

"Yuji Itadori, sensei!" Yuji introduces himself, saluting to you for some reason.

"Right. Itadori ate the finger. Sukuna's finger. And he is now Sukuna's vessel."

"Yup!" Gojo confirms and he gives you a thumbs up. "That about sums it up."

"So tell me why when I asked about three hours ago why all of the higher-ups were acting like they were shitting themselves, you didn't think to tell me what happened?" you ask, irritation with your husband woven in between every syllable you speak.

"I did, but I knew it would be fine, so I didn't want to worry you."

"Worry? Really? Do you know how worried I was when they said Sukuna was there?"

"Honey, you know I'm strong. I can face him."

Itadori looks to his new comrade, Fushiguru, to see if he was uncomfortable to watch the couple argue in front of them. He fails to be consoled when he sees Megumi wasison his phone nonchalantly as if nothing's wrong. Yuuji assumes Megumi was just tuning them out as a student being used to teachers bickering, so he decides to try to do the same. But it's not working.

"I don't care about your strength, I care about Megumi, and I care about the lives of those students, and-"

"Hey, Fushiguru?" Itadori says, and Megumi hums in response. "Is this normal?"

"-they were put at risk, Satoru! Do you understand that?"

With the couple continuing to argue in the background, Megumi looks up from his phone finally, answering, "Huh, this? Yeah. Get used to it. He's an idiot."

"Yes, baby, I understand, but I made a judgement call and I stand by that. I'm sorry-"

"Ah. Well, um. Can we leave? Do we have to stay?"

"-for not keeping you informed, but I promise you, I had it under control."

"Yeah. They won't even notice we're gone until one of them asks for our opinion and then they notice we're missing. It's just funny to watch them sometimes."

"The higher ups want to execute him! An innocent kid! And I know you got sweets in the middle of all of that. Are you serious-"

"You're used to this?" Itadori inquires, a naturally curious kid.

"-ly telling me that nothing different could have been done to prevent this?"

"I guess you could say that."

rawrrrr thank u for reading i love you SMMMM i loved writing this hehee <33333

[shares-a-vest]

Wayne shuffles to the door, desperate to answer the incessant knocking that sounds like whoever is on the other side is going to beat the exterior fly screen straight off its hinges. He is greeted by Claudia Henderson, clutching her handbag strap tight across her chest and looking very serious.

Although it might just be his sleep-deprived inability to gauge the emotions of chipper 9-to-5 receptionists who wear cosy sweaters. He checks his watch. He’s only been asleep for about an hour after getting home from night shift - what with waiting for Hurricane Eddie to finally head off for the garage.

“Hello, Wayne,” Claudia nods and purses her lips.

He scrubs a hand over his face but steps back nonetheless to let her in. Claudia is one step in the doorway anyhow.

“Coffee,” he not-so-much asks as he moves to the kitchen.

“No, thank you,” Claudia says politely, “I usually wait for my morning tea break.”

He looks over to find her pulling out his assigned chair at the breakfast table. She looks nervous, if a little pissed off as she gathers her handbag up on her lap. He blinks harshly and pinches his nose enough to press his forefinger and thumb into the inner corners of his eyes. He really needs to wake the hell up a little more, it appears.

“What did Eddie do?” he sighs, looking over the drying rack on the sink for one of the mugs he has in his rotation at the present time.

“Oh, Eddie hasn’t done a thing!” she insists, a smile evident in her voice, “I’m here about Steve.”

Cubs mug it is then...

He frowns again and turns back to Claudia, confused. And the woman looks like she was expecting such a reaction because she huffs and straightens up, looking like she is readying herself to give a sermon on the kid.

“I need you to help me convince that boy to move in with Dustin and me,” she explains, promptly holding up a defensive hand, “Now, I know he stays here, mostly This isn’t about anything to do with you… Or Eddie…”

She tacks that last mention of his nephew on with a tone and a knowing look.

Wayne clears his throat. It’s certainly far too early in the morning for the ins and outs of that conversation. He flicks the kettle on to drown out the awkward silence between them.

“Have you uh...” he hums and scratches the back of his neck as he searches for words, “Have you talked with him about this, at all?”

Claudia squeaks out a noise he assumes is a negative as he quickly spoons coffee into his mug. He’ll settle for black coffee for now - he really cannot be assed to stand up for much longer, even if he did have the sense to quickly step into his comfy slippers when Claudia came a-pounding on the door.

“And you want my help specifically?” he says, raising his voice above the steaming kettle that is whistling away in boiling readiness.

“Yes!”

He waves a hand in the air, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Oh, gosh, no! I can’t talk to that girl,” he barks a laugh that makes Claudia startle in her seat, forcing her to clarify, “I mean she is a steel trap about that boy!”

Wayne smirks and nods as he heads for the table with his piping hot - and hopefully, heavily caffeinated - beverage, “He’s not the biggest talker when it comes to himself.”

“I’m not one to speak ill of other mothers,” Claudia says in a hushed tone, “God knows, I am not perfect. But where are his parents?”

She rocks a little with each word like she has needed to ask that question for a good long while. Of course, Wayne thinks about Steve’s parents. A lot. Because the boy almost never mentions them.

He shrugs, “He says they stayed away on business.”

“After everything that has happened in this town?” she argues, voice growing shrill with worry, “Did he tell you what actually happened with the mall fire? It was more of that other dimension nonsense!”

He almost chokes on his coffee. He knows a little - there was no way around it with Eddie in the hospital surrounded by all those secret nurses and doctors. But he didn’t know Claudia Henderson knew about some of it too. Still, he decides to remain cautious and gestures for her to continue.

“And he’s been concussed more times than he can remember!”

She slumps back in her seat with a look of such horror, Wayne thinks the sweet woman sitting opposite him considers it her closing argument.

Wayne taps on the rim of his coffee cup. They would have to tread carefully, not ambush the kid.

“He does get a lot of migraines - ” is all he can think to say.

“ - And he has dizzy spells,” Claudia cuts in, leaning forward. He can see tears starting to well up, “I just want him to be looked after. I know he’s a young man with his own life and everything, but he still needs a parent to care for him, to support him.”

“Yeah,” Wayne nods firmly, “Yes, he does.”

[wileys-russo]

jenni hermoso ”i knew i would find you from here” a house party

j.hermoso II never too late

"i'm just gonna get some air!" you yelled over the music, kissing your best friends cheek who nodded, downing your drink and dropping the cup on a table on your way out, exhaling at the sudden peace and quiet of the backyard.

you pretended not to notice the few couples littering the back patio, curled up together in darkened corners and pool chairs taking advantage of the privacy as you wandered a little further away, sitting down at the edge of the pool.

this was supposed to be a high school reunion of sorts, though it felt a little sad to watch some of your now near thirty year old classmates try to re-live their 'glory days' most of the class now married, engaged or on call for their kids babysitters.

you of course had none of the above, having chosen to study right out of school and though you had a very high paying well respected job to show for it, you couldn't help but feel robbed of some other aspects of life you'd been too careless with.

"i knew i would find you here."

speaking of things you'd missed out on.

you looked up at her voice, a smile settling in your features as you took in the woman in front of you, no longer the awkwardly tall teenager you'd messed around with in empty classrooms during your free periods.

"jennifer hermoso fuentes." you smiled, pushing yourself up to your feet, stomach fluttering a little at the knee buckling grin she sent your way. "in the flesh, hola hermosa." the girl opened her arms for a hug as you settled into them, laughing as she jostled you side to side gently, kissing your cheek.

"of all people i expected to run into here, you weren't on my list jen." you admitted, the two of you breaking apart and taking a seat beside one another, legs dangling in the pool.

"mm and why is that?" she asked with a curious smile, leaning back on her hands and watching you. "a title winning national football campeón? slumming it at a house party with us campesinos." you teased as she playfully rolled her eyes and flicked you with water.

"what can i say? the honor is yours." jenni winked and you'd be lying if you said your stomach didn't do a little flip just like when you were a teenager.

"vale enough about me now! y tú? what are you doing with yourself?" jenni finished catching you up on everything around a half an hour later, bumping her shoulder into yours as you shrugged.

"-but sometimes i feel like i blinked and ten years has gone by, and i have a career sure but i do not have much to show for it in a way of a personal life." you wrapped up your summary, cheeks blushing pink as you looked away.

"what are you-" you questioned as the taller girl grabbed your hands inspecting them. "checking for a wedding ring, i would hate to be flirting with a married woman." jenni grinned cheekily as she dropped your hands and you couldn't help but smile.

"you have not changed." you chuckled at her abrupt boldness, jenni never afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve, one of the most honest women you'd ever known even if sometimes you did not ask for her honesty.

"i have too! i grew up, i am an adult." jenni stuck her tongue out at you as you shook your head. "big child in an adults body maybe." you teased, pushing her as a comfortable silence fell between the pair of you, the faint pulse of the music inside as the night ran late and the party started to slowly die out.

"hey you have something that none of the idiotas here have." jenni stated as you gave her a curious frown, caught off guard as she leaned in and pecked your lips.

"you've kissed a world cup winner!" her lips curled into a wicked grin as she lay down looking up at you and you had to laugh, touching your lips where they tingled a little at the familiar sensation of kissing her.

"maybe you have changed..." you mused, leaning down closer as she quirked an eyebrow, playful glint in her eyes. "...you used to be a much better kisser." you whispered, patting her chest and sitting back up as she looked up at you incredulously.

"es que tan?" jenni sat up quickly, clearly offended by the statement which only amused you more as you nodded. "sí, de verdad." you confirmed, features painted into a smirk.

"mmm well maybe you have changed too princesa." jenni echoed as you now raised an eyebrow at her, though before you even had a millisecond to comment you were plunged underwater, feet hitting the bottom.

"you used to be a good swimmer!" jenni laughed, doubled over as you resurfaced coughing and spluttering, eyes narrowed into a filthy glare.

but you hardly had a moment to condemn her as she dove in to join you, popping up in front of you with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a pearly white toothy grin.

"i did not miss you cabrón." you spluttered, treading water as the footballer swam even closer. "yes you did." jenni nodded, hovering right in front of you now, her face only a few centimeters from yours.

"i did not." "you did." "you wish." "maybe i do."

another silence fell between you as your eyes roamed one anothers faces, drinking in every little detail both new and old that had stayed or appeared in the ten or so years you'd not seen her up close.

"why did we break up?" you were caught a little off guard at the abruptness of her question, sighing at the way her eyebrow creased curiously.

"i don't know jen. you were getting serious with football, i was going to university. we just...we went down different paths of life that didn't cross over." you struggled out an answer, neither of you really holding any ill will with the other but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't occasionally found yourself doing a little internet deep dive into what your ex was up to.

"i only came here hoping i would see you." again you were caught off guard by her statement, searching her eyes for any signs that she was messing with you but only finding blunt honesty, her speciality.

"well...here i am." "here you are." jenni smiled and those butterflies appeared as you reached across to push a few wet strands of hair from her forehead, shivering lightly as a gust of wind blew hitting your damp skin.

"vamos, lets get dry." jenni nodded toward the steps, the two of you swimming over, jenni hopping out first and extending a hand to help you. "you didn't think this through, did you?" you questioned, motioning to both of your soaking wet bodies and not a towel in sight as she smiled sheepishly.

"well...i'm not staying far from here. i have a very spacious shower in my hotel room, and lots of towels, comfortable bed, movies on order, snacks." jenni grinned hopefully, poking at you as you smacked her hand and wrapped your arms around your wet form.

"are you asking me to come for a sleepover hermoso?" you teased as the taller girl chuckled and shrugged. "maybe. but just, with a little less sleeping." she hinted with another wink that had your stomach twisting, offering you her hand with a charming smile, brightening as you grabbed it and the pair of you headed off toward the side exit.

maybe it wasn't too late for some things to work out for you after all.

[crystalizedcryolite]

HCs of AvM Characters' Typing Styles

(Alan not included despite the misleading photo used lmao)

Red:

Oh, MOST DEFINITELY uses emoticons the most. He's the type to use the most insane ones like╭( ๐_๐)╮and is not above using OwO unironically. Uses all-caps the most, overall VERY expressive in text.

Definitely the one to have the most typos and uses shorthand a lot, but WILL correct when someone else makes a typing error.

Example - "HEYY GUYS hru?? :D" and "NOOO rEuebn in MCSM DIEDDD (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞"

Orange/TSC:

They're a ghoster in chat/J

Types pretty normally, but also uses shorthand a lot. Only uses punctuation and caps when it REALLY counts. Rarely uses emoticons, and uses tone indicators more. Lazy at typing, lmao

Example - "hey what's up?" and "oh dang, rlly? that sucks/gen"

Yellow:

Everything he types is in perfect grammar, punctuation, and spelling. This, of course, leads to him being a bit of a slow typer.

He almost-never uses shorthand, same goes for emoticons. He uses tone indicators, though! And not above using multiple letters like "Helloooo!"

When he makes a single typo, everyone goes crazy and is quick to joke about it. Always quick to correct any typing mistakes.

Example - "I think you mean *Reuben, @/Red, and wasn't there an option to save him? /genq"

Green:

Green, Mr. Everything-must-be-perfect Green? He tries to NEVER make a typo, and is quite fast at typing. Manages to maintain perfect typing even in a fast pace.

(The same outcome from Yellow happens to him if he makes a typing mistake, but gets clowned on a lot less since he'd definitely make more typos than Yellow ever would)

Similar to Yellow, he tries to maintain perfect everything for typing, but he DOES use emoticons and shorthands! Also drags on some words with extra letters, of course.

Example - "Yeaah, I think so?? But the scene where he turns into a porkchop is hilarious lmaooo" and "Oh heyy @/Blue and @/Purple are both online! Hey, guys <3"

Blue:

Has a typing style similar to Orange’s, but uses caps and emoticons a lot more! Doesn't quite care about typing errors unless it's something important. Nothing much to add to this, to be honest.

Example - "Heyyy! ^^" and "The cutsecene was actually pretty funny ngl, it made teh sad moment less sad tho :P"

Purple:

Their typing style used to be extremely perfect, but as time went on, they stopped caring too much. Of course, they use proper spelling and doesn't use shorthand too often, but they do allow themselves to be imperfect!

They use tone indicators more than shorthand, but they do use stuff like "lmaoo" and "wtf" sometimes!

Example - "Wait tf who's Reuben? /genq" and "@/Red I am so sorry for your loss.."

King Orange/King Mango:

Perfect typing, doesn't even try. Doesn't use emoticons, doesn't use shorthand, doesn't use tone indicators. Uses emojis.

Doesn't understand what "lol" means. His typing style reflects his speaking style.

Example - "@/Purple, I do believe that @/Red is referring to the show he's been watching." and "You all must go to sleep, it's late! You kids need more time to grow."

Purple: "Dad we're all young adults-"

KM: "Oh, that's right 🫢. Indeed, you are.."

Red: "o l d XD"

KM: "What does 'XD' mean?"

[ronearoundblindly]

okey dokey, I've had *a day* and will use this glorious...🥴 idek which body part to reference 😮‍💨...and merge it with your previous ask about cooking or baking for Steve and giving him a nice, comforting, home cooked meal. And his response to that act of service and caring. Because this is me, I will obviously be starting with ::gasp:: an argument. Don't you love how predictable I am?!?!

To Tire Is Human

No warnings, uhhh, canon language (sh*t)? Written in drafts so no exact word count. It's not long (2k maybe, very much unedited)!

"The hustle? What does that even mean?" Steve gripes as he finishes up various chores around the property.

"It means I do the work."

Your boyfriend rips apart the wood log he was about to start chopping. "Do the work? Do the work? For nine hours? After leaving home early enough to be at work for an hour before the actual work starts? Then staying at least a half hour to clean?"

"Unless I also have to restock," you add quickly just to really turn the knife.

"You have got to be shitting me," he nearly snarls, eyes down toward the pile.

You don't blame him for not understanding. He's from an era where people worked to live, the point was the living. This...is not longer that era, and you are not of that generation.

Of course, it frustrates him, too, because your work makes living almost impossible. With all that he just mentioned, the commute, and attempting to offer yourself the basic self-care of eating and washing, you don't have the energy to do chores, and you've certainly struggled to find energy enough to show Steve love.

"That's the gig nowadays. That's how us super-average humans do it."

The thing is that you are also so tired of having this conversation. You are tired of the guilt for not magically considering yourself the center of your universe because, despite jokes about every kid receiving participation trophies, it is deeply engrained in you that you are replaceable.

If you don't perform above and beyond, fired. If you ask for too much and offer too little, gone. If you don't constantly learn how to outpace others, useless. It never ends.

And, finally, Steve Rogers might not get this but you age. You aren't powerful to begin with, but day after day, you get weaker and older, while someone else on Earth gets smarter and stronger.

You don't want to hear the spiel. You can see from his pinched face that Steve wants to give the spiel.

You sigh in exhaustion and prepare to hear the whole Cap speech before you two go pick up dinner in town.

One day later that week, your work schedule falls apart and lands you back at home hours before Steve is due to return. Antsy to accomplish something--and looking for a snack,--you notice the perfect combination of ingredients, something saucy and salty, hearty, just like Steve melts for, and a fruity baked good.

It's a lot of steps, there's a lot of mess to clean up as you go, and then there's still a lot left behind. You're hastily rushing around to set the oven timer and yank a skillet off the burner. Perhaps the whole endeavor has gotten you in over your head.

Steve appears out of nowhere.

Well. Not nowhere, but all the chaos in the kitchen is making enough noise, you didn't hear the door.

"I have everything under control," you automatically say.

His expression morphs from one of surprise and concern to utterly overwhelmed. His eyes look glassy as he approaches and scoops you into a quick hug, hands tucking themselves beneath the hem of your shirt so he can feel your skin as he breathes you in.

He quickly releases you at the sounds of oil popping and sniffs, reverting to Cap mode.

"What do you need? What can I do?"

All you can think is that the table hasn't been set.

Steve eats his whole meal--entree and dessert--with his non-dominant hand just so he can hold yours.

He had one of your days.

He spent the drive home listing all the things he needed to do in his head, more energy for each tick, more time for sitting still, more of him to give...

...and then he got to enjoy a lovely dinner with you.

You spent your energy on him, on you both. You spent energy specifically to spend time with him, and Steve could cry but he won't. He keeps smiling, making happy, pleased noises with each delicious bite.

An hour ago, he wasn't sure he could feed himself or wash up. He's simply too tired.

You start playing with his hand, drawing patterns in his palm, lightly dragging your nails on the sensitive inside of his wrist. It makes him shiver.

There were at least four things he was supposed to do outside before it got too dark, a load of towels and sheets needs done, a basket of clothes waits to be folded and put away. He does not want to do any of it.

His fingers close around yours.

"Thank you," he interjects softly, "I was so tired."

You lean forward and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, whispering in his ear, "you wanna leave the dishes to soak and watch a movie instead?"

Steve chuckles, turns his head to quickly kiss your lips, and nuzzles his nose to yours.

"Oh, you're a naughty minx, aren't you?"

Playfully racing up the stairs, ignoring the plates and glasses still on the table, you call back to him.

"Show some hustle, big guy! We got a whole lot of nothing to do."

He twitches, just for an instant, before finally deciding that grabbing the spare pillows from the guest room will add more to the movie experience than doing the dishes.

You're both going to do the work tonight: the work of taking care of each other, enjoying each other, and being human together.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[marichild]

satosugu fics i entreat everyone to read

these are just some of the amazing fics I’ve read! I highly recommend every single one to my fellow satosugu lovers. you won’t regret it, I promise.

Carry Me Home by @valleykey [58.4k, completed, T]

The boy shifts on his feet. “The year is two thousand and eighteen? Common Era?” Slowly, smile still plastic on his face, Suguru faces Satoru. This fucking dumbass. “Satoru,” he says, dangerous edge to his voice, “what did you do?” Satoru makes some bastardization of a sound, half between a laugh and a cough.  “...Whoops?”  “I,” Suguru grits, pinching two fingers together, “am this close to mass murder.” He’s joking.  Probably.  ///OR: Shortly before Geto would have massacred a village, he and Gojo are thrust eleven years forward into a would-have-been future that Geto is conspicuously absent from.

愛のある場所; river of light (that brings me to you) by @yuzudetergent [66.8k, completed, T]

A lesson in love is a lesson in swimming. Except for Suguru, it's getting dropped into the deep end with the tide licking at his neck, no kickboard or life preserver keeping him afloat. (Or: This is how Satoru finds the ocean.)

achilles, only the dead stay seventeen forever by getou_suguru (dheiress) [7.9k, ongoing, T]

He looks like a little kid, insouciant and irreverent, smiling at you like that. This is how you want to remember him. “Winter snow melts into Spring, of course!” You open your mouth to laugh and laugh and laugh and— His breath tastes, inexplicably, like spun sugar and honey on your tongue.  (Gojou Satoru is not a God, not yet. But He will be and you think (you know) that you will be  the first to kneel in worship and offer Him your blood, your flesh. Build Him a temple inside the circle of your arms until He sinks inside your ribcage, there to dwell safe and sound and beating just for you.)  ((Pay attention, now. This is a story about how a boy—the Hallowed one, the enlightenment of all, the one who rose high above others, the one and only—fell.))

Always an Angel (Never a God) by 0atmlk [44.6k, ongoing, M]

"The first time I saw the sunset here, I wanted to send you a picture."  Suguru looked at him, surprised. "Why didn't you?"  "Because I knew you’d been here before on your own, it was probably something you'd seen plenty of times." Satoru paused. "But I almost did. Opened it and everything to send to you. Then I saw the date of the last message you sent. We were pushing year three. So I didn't." . . .  Suguru finds Satoru at fifteen. Satoru finds him at twenty-eight.

I’m Sorry: In Various Translations by @koifishscribbles [45.9k, ongoing, M]

The coffee in Satoru’s stomach curdles. He feels the weight of every one if those eight years roll through his entire body like an earthquake. All the missed sleep clings to his eyes, and the unsent texts threaten to erupt from his mouth. Getou Suguru. It is not that his stitches unravel. Those took years to craft, cinched with vitriol, and won’t be undone in a single moment. It’s his very being that unspools onto the dirty linoleum floor. He wants Suguru to pick him up and untangle the length of him. His fingers once again becoming familiar as they expertly craft him into something new, better.  —— Gojo Satoru has not seen his ex, Getou Suguru, since college. Until he shows up one day teaching in the classroom across the hall from him.

an anthology of bad ideas by ilovegetosuguru [9.5k, completed, gen]

Gojo panics and asks a very attractive stranger to be his fake boyfriend for a wedding.  Here’s the problem — there’s no wedding.  (Fake Dating AU)

april pink by @valleykey [3k, completed, gen]

“Dude,” Satoru says, first thing off the train, glasses sliding down, wide eyes peering over the rim, “you have, like, flowers. In your lungs.” “Oh really,” Suguru says, dry, “I hadn't noticed.”

Puppet On A String by @killjoyproductions [6.8k, completed, E]

“Huh,” he muses. “Are you… saving yourself for marriage?”  “Nope.”  “Are you asexual?”  Satoru shakes his head. “I’m not asexual, just a virgin.”

Autonomic Breath by finalproject [10.9k, completed, E]

She turns to Satoru and asks, "When did you know?"

Lies That Bind by Anonymous [48.1k, ongoing, E]

“Really now,” Gakuganji snorted, doubtful. “How convenient. Who is this alpha, then?” And of course, Satoru had seen that question coming as soon as his claim of having a mate was halfway out of his mouth, but by that point he was already talking and it was too late to stop. “So nosy.” He wagged his finger in a tut-tut motion in the geezer’s face, watching him turn a horrible shade of angry red. “It’s Geto Suguru, of course.” Satoru's sick and tired of all the higher-ups insisting he needs to find an alpha and settle down just because he's an omega, and the simple lie that Suguru is his mate seems like the easiest way to get some peace and quiet. What could go wrong?

like the tides, never standing still. by antepuer [1.1k, completed, T]

“I fucking hate it sometimes.” Suguru taps the ash off and looks at him. Puppy-dog eyes, has no idea what Satoru refers to, but it would be far from the first time. “What do you mean?” “Being queer.” He finally admits. “It fucking sucks.”

once we have sufficiently tortured one another by irrevenance [4.6k, completed, E]

Suguru’s throat goes dry. “You’re no longer a sorcerer,” he realizes, a hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat in response to the sick joke that has laid itself before him. “And you came to me?” “Yes,” Satoru says pleasantly. “What will you do about it,” and here he lowers both his eyelashes and his tone, a mockery of seduction, “Getou-sama?”

the dream house by irrevenance [6.1k, completed, E]

Suguru adopts two little girls, marries Satoru, and becomes a teacher. It’s not enough.

where shall we go tomorrow? by elivellichor [15k, ongoing, T]

“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck do you want from me?” a raspy voice hisses, breath on the shell of his ear, knocking Suguru out of his daze. Suguru tilts his chin up to better meet his pursuit face to face and goes breathless. Enraged and fiery cerulean eyes stare down at him with a twisted expression. This child is undeniably Gojo Satoru. He can’t imagine any other with a disposition so fiery and confrontational.  Or: an indulgent age-regression fic featuring One (1) Baby Gojo Satoru and One (1) Very Tired Geto Suguru feat. healing <3

Caesura by @cielelyse [85.5k, completed, M]

The first time they meet, Suguru and Satoru do not like each other. Arrogant, cocky, insufferable, they think. Despite the smirks Shoko gives Suguru, or the sighs Yaga gives Satoru, they do not like each other. Until a mission changes that.

it's not gay unless the domains touch by @hollow-lime-green [40.2k, completed, E]

Funny thing is, when you put up walls made of infinity, you don’t expect people to start slipping in. And you certainly don’t expect to start wanting them to. Gojo Satoru never had a chance to get used to people touching him. Suguru gets that, and he’s happy to help. That’s what good friends do, right? Alternatively: Geto Suguru is the most oblivious man alive.

two sorcerers chillin' in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they’re not gay) by @hollow-lime-green

Geto Suguru has almost two decades of practice pretending not to see things that are clearly there, and Gojo Satoru has a well-documented history of being the most socially-stunted motherfucker alive. That’s how they got here. That’s also why neither of them know where the hell they’re going with this.

BONUS! Baby Mine by @seaemberthesecond

There was something just slightly off in every interaction between Gojo-sensei and Fushiguro and once Yuji’d begun to notice it, he couldn’t unsee it. It wasn’t a bad kind of off – at least he didn’t think so – but it was just different from the way either of them acted around everyone else. * Or, Yuji's journey to discovering that Megumi is Gojo's baby boy, featuring: an insane amount of simping, the mundane indignities of being a parent, and a lot of Yuji snooping in places he really shouldn't be.

(aka, that fic I go back to all the time. gojo being megumi’s dad will never not be one of my favorite things ever.) (clearly)

[fuzzyautumninmetal]

Loving Husband pt 5

Olderhusband!Price 🤝 YoungerWife!Reader 🤝 Slight angst

I lowkey kinda made myself cry writing this also writers block sucks ass!!

Cw - slight mention of birth, being cut (not self harm!)

Part 4 Part 6

You and John had been living in your new home for three months now, the excitement of moving and setting up your life together still fresh in your mind.

At six months along, you look and feel like you're ready to pop any day now. The doctors have told you to take it easy, and John has taken this order to heart. You're only allowed to walk, nothing more strenuous than that. It's frustrating, being confined to such a limited range of motion, but John's dedication to your health and the health of your unborn children is unwavering.

It's this selflessness, this love, that makes you fall in love with John all over again. You had no idea when you married him that he would be such a devoted husband and father. But here he is, taking care of you in every way possible, always putting your needs above his own.

Standing beside you, John watched as you carefully moved around the house. The pregnancy glow suited you, highlighting the curves of your body and bringing out the softness in your features. Even when you were irritated by the restrictions placed upon you, he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you.

There was a time when he thought he'd never find someone who could handle the rigors of his life. Someone who could deal with the constant danger, the long periods of separation, and the stress of being married to a soldier. But then he met you, and everything changed.

Seeing you like this, so vulnerable yet so resilient, made his heart ache. But it also filled him with pride. Pride in knowing that he had chosen well, that he had found someone who loved him despite all his flaws.

As you walked around the house, you couldn't help but notice the way John looked at you. There was something about the way his blue eyes took in every detail of your body that sent a thrill through you. "You're staring darling," you smiled at him as you waddled towards the sofa.

Following you to the couch, John couldn't help but let his gaze wander over your form once more. The sight of you swollen with his children was enough to make his heart race.

"Can't help it, sweetheart," he said with a shrug, sitting down next to you. "You're looking even more beautiful these days."

His hand hovered near your belly, tempted to touch the bump where their babies were growing. But he resisted, instead choosing to content himself with watching the gentle rise and fall of your stomach as you breathed.

"How are our little angels doing today?" He asked softly, his voice filled with paternal concern.

You saw John's restriction when he came to touch your swollen stomach, it made you chuckled honestly. "You can touch my stomach you know" you smiled softly as you grabbed his hands to place on your stomach.

"They're kicking up a storm today" You replied with a smile. "I think they're going to be just like their dad. Always full of energy"

Feeling the subtle movements beneath his palm, John couldn't suppress the swell of emotion that welled up inside him. His kids were alive, thriving, and already causing trouble.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Full of energy is good. Keeps them strong."

He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your stomach before pulling away. The sensation of those tiny kicks against his hand was enough to send shivers down his spine. "Are they going to be as stubborn as their mum?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his words, but you couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped your lips. "I am not stubborn" you said with a grin as you grabbed his chin to bring him in for a gentle kiss.

Caught off guard by your sudden move, John felt a jolt of desire course through him. The kiss was sweet and tender, making him wish that he could pick you up and carry you to bed, where he could worship every inch of your body. But he knew that wasn't an option right now, so he settled for the kiss. "Mmm..." he hummed against your lips before pulling away. "Still stubborn, I see."

After the kiss, you pulled back with a smirk on your face. "Maybe a bit" You murmured as you pulled him for another kiss.

Caught off guard by your sudden forwardness, John found himself responding to your kiss eagerly. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer into his chest. His hand slid down to cup your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"But I love you anyway," he whispered against your lips before kissing you again.

You pulled back from the kiss with a grin, "you better!" You kissed the tip of his nose before propping your feet up onto the coffee table, "will you massage my feet please, they feel like balloons." You chuckled as you looked at your swollen feet, so swollen you have to wear crocks when you go out now. Fucking crocks.

With a chuckle, John obliged, taking one of your feet into his large, calloused hands. He began to gently massage the arch of your foot, applying pressure to the sensitive spots.

"Gladly, love," he murmured, focusing on the task at hand. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but admire the softness of your skin under his rough palms. "It's hard seeing you like this," *he admitted after a moment, "but I wouldn't trade it for anything else."

You sighed softly as he massaged your feet, feeling the tension leaving them as he worked on each toe individually. "Just thinking of the 3 beautiful children we'll have" you replied softly as you closed your eyes enjoying the massage.

Continuing to work on your feet, John couldn't help but marvel at the changes that pregnancy had brought about in you. Your body now rounded and lush, carrying the fruit of their love. "It's strange," he mused aloud, "how something as miraculous as childbirth can also be so terrifying."

As he massaged your feet, you closed your eyes letting out a sigh of relief. "You're telling me," you said with a small laugh. "You're not the one that will have to push them out....or get cut open to get them out" you couldn't help but laugh slightly again as John began messaging your other foot.

At your laughter, John's own chuckle rumbled deep within his chest. He couldn't deny there was some truth to what you were saying. "But don't forget who will be there by your side when it happens," he reminded you, switching to massage your other foot. "Who will hold your hand and tell you everything will be alright." His fingers traced over the sole of your foot, finding all the tender spots until they reached your toes.

You let out a contented sigh as he continued to massage your feet. "That reminds me. I have a midwife appointment tomorrow for a check-up, I can't remember if you're on base or not tomorrow." You asked with a smile as you wiggled your toes.

Hearing about the appointment, John's expression softened. He loved these moments, listening to the heartbeat of their unborn children. It was almost magical, in its way.

"I'll be there," he assured you, his tone firm yet gentle. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." His fingers continued to work on your toes, giving them a gentle squeeze before moving back up towards your heel.

You smile at his answer, feeling happy knowing he would be there with you. "Good," you say, "I'd hate to go without you." You smiled lightly as he moves to your other foot, the massage feeling amazing, and you find yourself sinking deeper into the couch.

Once John finishes massaging your feet, he parts your thighs slightly so he can kneel in between them. He gently places his hands on your swollen belly and rests his forehead on your stomach. He lets out a soft sigh, one sign that something is wrong.

"I know you John. What's wrong?"

"This job," he begins, his voice low and thick with worry. "I'm going to miss so much, I might miss their first steps, their first laugh, their first words…" John always acts strong, he has to being a Captain, but you know him. You know him better than himself.

"I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you," you say, your voice firm but laced with love. You cup his cheeks with your hands so John would look up at you. "Our children won't mind anyway. You want to know why?"

He lifted his gaze to meet yours, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The vulnerability in those eyes only made you love him more. "Why?" he echoed, a hint of curiosity mixed with a heavy dose of scepticism in his voice.

"Because," you continue, your voice softening, "they will know that their daddy is a hero. They will know that he's out there fighting for the world, fighting for their future. They will be proud."

John nodded slowly, his grip tightening on your hips as he took in your words. There was a part of him that wanted to believe you, to take comfort in the thought that their children would understand. "And what about you?" he asked quietly, "How will you explain it to them? How will you tell them that their father wasn't there because he chose to be away?" Even though he knew it was a rhetorical question, he needed to hear your response.

You place a finger on his lips silencing him momentarily. "I'll tell them the same thing," you say, "that their daddy is a hero. That he fights for people he doesn't even know. And that while he does that, he thinks of us. Always."

"You're my hero John. I've never doubted that. And our kids won't either."

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as he savoured the warmth of your finger against his lips. In that moment, he felt like the luckiest man alive – to have found someone like you, who could see past the uniform and the rank.

"Damn, I love you," he murmured against your skin, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than anything else in this world." He then placed a gentle kiss on your belly, his affection for the three little lives growing inside you evident in every movement he made.

Your heart swells with love for John as he whispers his love for you. You reach down and run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your body. "And I love you, more than anything else in this world too."

You kiss the top of his head, inhaling his scent. You are both silent for a moment, just enjoying each other's company.

The weight of your love pressed down on him, grounding him in a way nothing else could. His arms tightened around your waist, holding onto you as if you were the last piece of sanity in an otherwise chaotic world.

He looked up at you, his blue eyes shining with a mix of love and admiration. "You know, I sometimes wonder if I deserve you." There was a hint of self-doubt in his voice, something he rarely showed, especially not to you.

You tilt your head, looking down at John with a small smile playing on your lips. "Why would you ever think that?" You ask, genuinely confused.

He shrugged, his brow furrowed in thought. "I mean, here I am, off fighting wars, missing milestones, while you're here carrying our children, preparing for their arrival..." His voice trailed off, as if he was unsure whether he should finish what he started. But the truth was, he had plenty of reasons to doubt himself.

"It's not fair to you," he finally said, his voice low and sincere. "You deserve better than a husband who's always away. A husband who can't give you what you need..."

You gently grabbed John's cheeks to look at you. "Don't," you whispered, your thumb stroking his cheek. "Don't say that."

He sighed softly, leaning into your touch as if seeking comfort from your hand. He closed his eyes briefly, savouring the sensation of your thumb against his skin.

"Don't what?" he asked, opening his eyes to meet yours again. "Tell the truth? Because it's the truth, sweetheart. You deserve a husband who can stay home, who can be there for you and the babies..."

As your trembling voice whispered, "Shh," silence enveloped you. Your breath hitched, tears threatening to cascade down your cheeks. "I want you, John."

John's glassy eyes held a mixture of pain and longing. "You deserve better," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

"No," you protested, your voice a feeble plea. "I don't want better. I have you." Warm tears escaped, trailing down your face. "You're not just my husband. You're my best friend, my lover, my partner...my everything."

He watched as the tears rolled down your cheeks, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He didn't want to cause you pain, but he also couldn't deny the truth.

"But I'm not there for you, sweetheart," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Not like I should be..."

You shook your head, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. "You're here now," you said softly, reaching down to cup his face in your hands. "That's all that matters."

He let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of your hands on his face. He gazed up at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion* "But I can't help but feel like I'm failing you. Failing our family..."

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. "Stop it, John. Please," you whispered. "You're not failing me. Failing us."

He exhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within him. The weight of his duty was heavy, but the love he felt for you and the unborn children was heavier still. "Sometimes I wish..." his voice trailed off, the words dying on his lips before they could fully form.

He hesitated, clearly struggling with his thoughts. After a long pause, he continued. "Sometimes I wish I could leave it all behind - the war, the danger, the constant uncertainty. Just so I could focus on building a life with you, raising our children together..."

His gaze drifted over your features, committing every detail to memory. The way the light danced in your eyes, the curve of your lips, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips...

"But that's not reality, is it?" he asked, his tone tinged with resignation. "Reality is me being called away, leaving you to handle things on your own...again."

You grab his hand, pressing it against your stomach. "But it will be in the future," you say, your voice firm. "When you retire. We'll be together finally, you can chase our children around the garden, spoil them rotten. Finally treat yourself to that bike you've always wanted." You chuckle, the sound light and carefree.

John's eyes flicker to your face, a ghost of a smile forming.

"But not yet dear," you continue, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "You're not done saving the world, you're not done being the hero everyone needs."

His face softens, his gaze melting into yours. The weight of the world is there in his eyes, but so is love, a deep and unwavering love that knows no bounds. You know he's fighting a battle, a war within himself, but you also know that he'll choose you, always. He will come back to you, your haven, your love. He will come home.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he listened to you speak, your words washing over him like a soothing balm. He knew you were right - he wasn't ready to retire just yet. There was still work to be done, lives to save, threats to neutralize.

"You're right," he conceded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not done yet. Not by a long shot." He paused, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat. "But I promise you this, sweetheart - when the time comes, I'll be here. For you, for our family. Always." He sealed his vow with a tender kiss, pouring all his love and devotion into the simple gesture. "I love you more than anything in this world. Never forget that."

[cressidagrey]

Welcome to the World - Chapter 4

Summary:

The quickest turnaround time between finding your mate and having a kid anybody in the history of Prythian has ever managed

Warnings:

Azriel being a adoring First Time Dad

(super pretty dividers thanks to @saradika)

He was entranced. 

Bewitched…enchanted, captivated, mesmerized…all of that and more. 

As he watched the baby, Aurora, Aurora, who had her mother’s curly hair and his mother’s name…as he watched her greedily drink from Ciara’s breast…both of them so content…so happy…seemingly glowing with it. 

It was everything that he had never thought he would ever have. 

“I think I’ll sneak a nap in before all of Rosehall is awake,” his mother said quietly from her place at Ciara’s bedside, who looked up from Aurora, reaching to touch his mother’s hand. 

“Thank you.” 

She pressed a kiss to Ciara’s forehead like she had done to him thousands of times. “Of course. Try to get some shut-eye as well, alright?”

She came towards him, hugging him tightly. 

“Happy Birthday, Ma,” he whispered. 

“I am so happy for you,” she gave back, whispering in his ear. “Look at you, making me a grandmother without even knowing.” It was a joke and it wasn’t, because he was quite sure that even without a mating bond between Ciara and him, that was exactly the role his mother would have taken in Aurora’s life. 

But like this…

He let her press a kiss against his cheek and then it was just the three of them, Nora long since gone…just him and Ciara and Aurora . 

She finished drinking and Ciara rested her against her shoulder, gently rubbing her back above these tiny little fluttering wings…helping the milk settle…one hearty belch later and he was quite sure that she was already deep asleep again. 

“You should sleep…” he said, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears as he looked at her. 

Even as exhausted and tired as she was…she looked so beautiful. Glowing with Maternal Pride as she looked at her daughter, a smile curling around the corners of her mouth. So happy. So…beautiful. Incandescent with love. 

She looked at him, hazel eyes watching…and then she patted the bed next to her, shifting slightly. 

“Come sit down, mate.” 

She could have asked anything of him in that tone of voice and she would have gotten it, he was certain. 

But this…this was so easy to grant. 

“Sorry about putting you through that during our first meeting,” she quipped and he couldn’t help but laugh, a deep rumbling sound somewhere deep in his chest. This was just so…

This was the last thing he had expected…and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“She’s so perfect,” Azriel whispered again as he sat down next to her on the bed, careful not to disturb her or the baby, as he sat down next to her…kicking off his shoes so that he could be nearer…She leaned against his shoulder, her wing brushing against him…not giving a single thought about that bit of startling intimacy. 

But if she did that…he dared to reach out for Aurora, dared to run a single finger across one pudgy little cheek…

“She is,” Ciara agreed quietly, a jaw-cracking yawn taking over her face…she was still shivering with something only she could feel. 

“Sleep?” he asked, once again.

“I don’t want to let her go…” Ciara admitted weakly. “I don’t want to put her in her crib and make her be alone…”

“Then don’t,” he agreed quietly. “Keep her with you, and I’ll stay awake and make sure that nothing happens.” He could do that. He wasn’t even tired…not when he could watch the two of them. He would watch the two of them for the rest of his life. 

“Aren’t you tired?” she wondered but he shrugged. 

“Not like you are,” he promised her. He hadn’t brought a child into the world. He had just watched. 

Ciara met his eyes and something inside them softened.  She did listen to him, laid down on her side with Aurora nestled between the two of them, one of Ciara’s hands on her baby’s stomach.

She fell asleep between one breath and the next, so quickly that he was surprised Ciara had even been conscious enough to have a conversation with him. 

She fell asleep, her face easing and he…he just watched them. Watched Ciara’s face often and looked so much younger than she probably was…watched Aurora’s heart-shaped mouth purse and then her little grunts…

Watched the two of them. Both of them.

The emotions that were swirling in his chest were numerous and difficult to name…but the one thing that he did know was…he wanted them. Both of them. He wanted to be able to come home to them, he wanted to watch Aurora grow up. 

He wanted to see Ciara and get to know her properly and fell in love with her and…he wanted that. 

He had no idea how he had even come close to deserving them…but he wanted them. 

You could have them, Master. It was a soft whisper from his shadows, coming to poke around…gently, so gently drifting over to Ciara and Aurora, like they knew how precious they were to him. 

They did know. Of course, they did. 

Did you know? he asked curious. Had the shadows sensed a mating bond before he had even had an idea about it? Had they known? Was that why they had suggesting him to start knitting and visit his mother? Was that why…

That she was your mate? No, Master…otherwise we would have dragged you here months ago. You could have stopped your moping without needing to try out hiking. They told him drily. 

He snorted softly, not wanting to wake up either of the two of them, though it didn’t seem like that was something that he needed to worry about. 

Ciara shivered. 

Without a single comment from him, the shadows pulled a fur out of thin air…and stretched it over her form. 

Pitch black. Glossy. Thick. Massive. 

You are incorrigible, he told the shadows with some amusement as he watched them wrap Ciara up in that Fenris Fur. 

She’s yours, Master. They are yours, the shadows repeated, not sounding sorry in the slightest. 

It was a startling view to see them like that, wrapped in the fur of the animal he had killed…wrapped in his protection, kept safe and warm through something he had done…

It soothed the monster deep within him. He had provided this. 

Just like The General had said, the shadows said pleasantly, happy enough to return to swirling behind his wings and letting him watch both of them.  

Should we tell Cassian that he has a future as a seer? he quipped, still watching them. You watched her over the last year, didn’t you? He asked. He didn’t want to infringe on Ciara’s privacy, didn’t want to know anything that she wouldn’t willingly tell him, but…

Yes, Master. We like her . They told him pleasantly. 

You do? 

She’s very sweet. Everybody loves her. Even the donkey . Azriel was sure that Thistle had probably never tried to bite Ciara’s wings. 

He saw Aurora move quietly, and make a soft noise, and he reached out to pick her up.

She was barely big enough to span the length of his forearm, her head fitting comfortably in the palm of his hand. Her wings weren’t even the site of his hands. 

“You don’t need to cry,” he whispered quietly, even as her cries slowly heightened. “Hey, hey…let your Ma sleep alright? I am right here. Right here,” he promised her, gently rocking her. 

She quieted right down, a soft snuffling sound coming from her, seemingly leaning into his touch. 

She didn’t even seem to realise the violent scars marring her hands, that the texture of his hands was different than the ones of her mother…she just rested in his arms, head comfortably in the crook of his elbow…

“And I am going nowhere,” he continued quietly, wondering if it was the warmth of his body or the sound of his voice that was quietening her back to sleep…though she was still looking at him, dark eyes unfocused… tiny hands fisting into the blanket she was wrapped into…he reached out with his other hand, gently touching her tiny hand, offering her his finger and her hand wrapped around it…not even reaching the whole way…

“You know, your Ma…she worked really, really hard to bring you into this world. And she needs her rest so that she can heal, alright?” He said softly. “She already loves you so, so much.” 

He didn’t doubt that for one moment. Ciara adored her daughter. 

And she wasn’t the only one. Aurora would grow up like that…surrounded by love. 

“You’ll be surrounded by that, you know…All the people that love you. It doesn’t matter if it’s the blankets your mother made you or whatever little dress I am sure your Grandma has sewn for you…“ the title slipped from his mouth without even thinking about it. “She’s so delighted with you, you know? We probably won’t even get to see you when you are a little older, because Grandma is gonna want to love on you every day…” He couldn’t help but laugh softly before growing serious. 

“She never got to do that with me as much as she wished because my father kept me from her, but you…you are going to get all that from her,” he promised her fiercely. 

His father had taken so much from both his mother and Azriel, but it was never going to happen again. Not if he had a single thing to say about it.

He had fought for less. And for this, he would fight until death. Until there wasn’t a single drop of blood left inside him. 

“Nobody is ever going to keep you from your Ma. I’ll take care of that,” he promised fiercely. 

Aurora would never spend even a day locked into darkness, into a cell underneath a keep…Aurora would grow up here in Rosehall, between the mountains and the ocean. She would be free. 

She would be free every day of her life. 

“I’ll take care of you both if your Ma is going to let me,” he said softly. If Ciara would let him… “Maybe I’ll manage to wear her down…I don’t deserve either of you, but I am going to do my damnest to do right by you both…” 

He would. 

“And I’ll protect you. You are never going to be hurt like she was. Or like I was…I’ll lay waste to the entire continent if that means that you’ll grow up safe and sound…and that you can do everything you want to do in your life…” he trailed off as her eyes opened again, as he could feel the wings twitch in their blanket cocoon and she made a soft unhappy growly noise. 

“Do they itch?” he cooed softly, “I bet they do.” he unwrapped them carefully, and moved her so that she could rest against his chest…her wings moving, twitching slightly…

“You get used to them, sweetheart. And one day your Ma and I are going to teach you how to fly…you’ll love it. I do,” he promised her. “I didn’t always get to do that, but you will. You’ll fly and your wings are going to grow bigger and stronger and…and nobody will ever take them from you.” 

***

 She listened to every single single word he said…warm and safe and feeling…so very cherished. She watched him…Watched him dote on her daughter, on Aurora…on how these big, scarred hands touched her so gently, so hesitantly. 

How he promised her, them…protection. Love. Safety. Everything she had ever wanted. He offered it for her taking. 

And he didn’t ask for anything in return. 

Not that she could offer him much. 

Her love. She could offer him that…

And she watched him rock Aurora, and starting to hum to her as she grew restless in his arms…and then with a low voice, he started singing to her. 

An old Illyrian nursery rhyme…she knew it, even when she didn’t remember it…about wings and the song of the wind…

and then he broke off because Aurora had started determinedly rooting around his chest for a breast. 

“You had to pick the one thing that I can’t give you, didn’t you?” he asked, sounding both exasperated and amused. 

“Not even a day old and already stubborn,” she quipped hoarsely. 

His face snapped towards her. “How much…” he started to ask her. She couldn’t help but smile. 

“You have a beautiful voice,”  she complimented him, watching him in amusement as the blush grew over his cheeks…

“My mother used to sing it for me,” he said as he offered her Aurora, and she took her daughter, pushing away a fur that was definitely not…hers. 

She was used to the crinkled cotton quilt and a thick duvet stuffed with goose feathers…and not…“That’s not Esmeray’s,” she said quietly as she turned on her side and offered Aurora her breast. She latched on with a hungry growl and then there was just the happy smacking sound of her lips as she hungrily downed her milk. 

She could feel the cramping in her womb at that, but she ignored it in favour of touching the thick glossy fur that was enveloping her. 

“No,” Azriel agreed. “It’s yours,” he said softly, biting his lip and she stared at him…and then the fur…and then it hit her. 

“Azriel,” she whispered weakly. 

“You were shivering,” he explained, blush once again growing over his face.  “And I have been reliably informed that I was supposed to give it to my mate. That’s the tradition.”

It was the tradition. As a bride gift…she wondered if she had ever gotten one of these before…but she didn’t care. She got this one. And she knew that it was…the most impressive one she had ever seen. 

She knew that Granya had gotten a coat made out of a hundred rabbit furs as a bridal gift from her husband…but all the females she knew…if they had gotten a traditional fur as a gift, it was always pieced together…it nearly never was…something like that. One massive piece. 

“Where did you get it from?” Ciara wondered. 

“The traditional way,” Azriel answered, one corner of his mouth kicking up. 

“You killed a Fenris,” she said pointedly. A major predator. “Why?”

“It was kinda an accident, but yes,” Azriel admitted with a sigh. 

“How could that be an accident?” she asked him with a snort. What had he done? Gone traipsing through the woods and found it at random? 

“My shadows decided I needed a new hobby….so I tried hiking,” Azriel said quietly. “It thought I would make a nice afternoon snack.” 

Ciara blinked twice, not even sure where exactly she was supposed to start at that. 

And then finally… ”What else did your shadows suggest?” she asked, a grin widening over her face. 

“Tried wood carving, which was the most successful…reading, but the only books I found that I really liked were children’s books… I wanted to ask Ma to teach me how to knit yesterday,” Azriel answered. She shifted slightly, moving Aurora so they both could be more comfortable. 

“Esmeray can teach you that. She’s really good at it too,” Ciara agreed. Though the thought of Azriel with knitting needles in his hands was…something. 

“Can you knit?” he asked her curiously. 

“I am better at sewing…also better at crocheting, where you only need one hook and not two needles,” Ciara answered. “ I made Aurora a few knitted things though…couldn’t help myself…they are so tiny and cute.” With little slits for her wings too…Esmeray loved it though. 

“Do the shadows often do stuff like that?” she wondered, craning her head so that she could watch them swirl around his wings until one tendril came to rest on her wrist where she was holding her daughter. 

“No, not often. However, I think they are done with that now...I found something else to occupy my time,” Azriel said, a small grin on his face, and a matching one bloomed over Ciara’s face. 

“Did you now?” she asked, the smile widening on her face. 

“If they’ll have me,” Azriel said, his voice quiet. 

“They will,” she promised. It was such an easy to promise to give him as well. So easy. “We’ll have you. We’ll have you for the rest of our life.” 

[baby-yongbok]

I'm Yours

Seo Changbin x Reader

Genre: Angst then Smut mixed with angst. Dirty Drama.

Summary: Even when you think you're done with him Changbin knows just what to say to make you melt for him.

Warnings: Cheating , Arguing/Yelling, Fingering, Changbin is kinda - low key gaslighting her (might be highkey). I think that's all, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2,407

✨Masterlist✨

“Don’t.” You push past Changbin, grabbing your shirt from the floor and tugging it on quickly. You can’t even look at him, how could he do this?

“Would you just let me explain?” He runs his hands through his hair as he buttons his shirt behind you. “I was going to tell her I just-”

“You just what? You told me last week, no, you promised me that you’d tell her about us. What happened to that? What happened to the I love you, baby, I’m going to tell my wife everything. I already made the date, I already made the fucking plans. What happened, Changbin?” Your throat burned from your yelling and you could feel the pinch in the back of your eyes but you won’t cry. You can’t do that right now, he doesn’t deserve that.

“It’s not that fucking easy, It’s complicated, everything is complicated. What am I supposed to tell the kids? Mommy and daddy are getting a divorce cause I started fucking your nanny? I have a family ya know, this isn’t black and fucking white.” You scoff, an incredulous laugh slipping from your lips as you step closer to your lover. He stares back at you, wide eyed with a red angry blush climbing up the milky skin of his neck and chest. You want to laugh this off, you want to tell him that you understand and that you just want him, any of him, all of him. But he doesn’t deserve that either.

“Oh, do I know that you have a family? Do I know? Let’s see Mr. Seo, am I aware that you have a six year old daughter who loves tea parties and hot wheels? Hmm, do I know that?”

“Don’t do that.” He looks away, bringing his hand up and rubbing his face. It’s a habit that he does when he’s stressed, you can’t blame him, this is fucking stressful.

“What about your four year old son who loves coloring and watching Bluey, do I know about that?” You take a step closer to him, leaving little to no room between you two. The heat radiating off of the both of you creates a deliciously toxic energy that makes you sick to your stomach. 

“Or what about your fucking wife.” You hiss, yelling in his face, he squeezes his eyes shut as he continues to avert eye contact. You push his chest with every word but he doesn’t move, of course he doesn’t he’s two times stronger than you. 

“Your wife who doesn’t give a shit about her kids or her husband or anything else that doesn’t solely focus on her. Your wife that is never home so I take care of her kids and they call me mommy. Your wife that doesn’t give you any attention so you started fucking me. I know a whole lot about your fucked up little family.” He grabs your hand, turning to face you and you swear that the look in his eyes could kill you.

“Stop this, now.” His voice is barely above a whisper, it’s almost gentle which is the complete opposite of the grip that he has on your wrist as he holds it against his chest. “I didn’t think that we’d take it this far, this was never the plan. Falling in love with you was not what I planned.”

“So I was just supposed to be a quick fuck? You didn’t mean to fall in love with me or fuck me in you and your wife’s bed before I pick up your kids. You didn’t mean to buy me jewelry or spend nights here begging me to have your babies, begging me to marry you when you divorce her. Fuck you, get the fuck off of me.”

“Will you let me fucking explain?” He growls at you and you suck your teeth.

“The hell I am.” You attempt to pull away from him but his grip only tightens. You pull again, this time more aggressively and when he doesn’t let you go you start to fight him, pushing and pulling and making him stumble as he tries to hold you. He lets go of your wrists and moves quickly to wrap his arms around your waist, he picks you up and throws you onto your mattress, ignoring your protests as you hit the memory foam.

“You think that I don’t know that she doesn’t give a fuck about me?” His voice bounces off of the white walls of your bedroom as you prop yourself up on your elbows. “She never fucking has, she never fucking will, she’s a gold digger we all know that. I fucked up and got her pregnant, I didn’t want any of this shit. I didn’t want this life. You, you are the first thing that I’ve wanted in years.”

“Bullshit.” You sit up, scooting down to the end of your bed. “Bull - fucking - shit, Changbin.”

You stand from the mattress but Changbin pushes you back down by your shoulders, he kneels down in front of you, getting a good grip on the plush of your thighs and pulling you to the very edge of the bed. You’re ready to protest, ready to scream and fight and throw a fit but the next sentence that comes out of his mouth makes you freeze. “ I told them to call you mommy.” 

He stares up at you, vulnerable eyes searching yours, you ball your hands into fists against the comforter. Is he fucking serious? “I didn’t tell my wife because she didn’t fucking show up for our date night. She had a work meeting which is code for fucking the new executive. I was going to tell her, I have -” He stops himself mid sentence, looking over towards his work bag and quickly moving towards it. He searches through it for less than a second before pulling out a folder and moving back in front of you.

“I have the fucking divorce papers, I signed them. I had everything.” You grab the folder from him, shaking your head as you read through them, they’re real, he isn’t lying but what good is that if you’re still stuck being the side chick? No good at all.

“Is this supposed to change my mind? Am I supposed to feel bad that your dead beat wife stood you up? I don’t give a fuck about her but clearly you still do.”

“That’s not fair -”

“Oh it’s not? It’s not fair?” You cross your arms, meeting his eyes with a sarcastic gaze. He speaks over you, shaking his head and gripping your bed frame as he grows more and more frustrated by the situation.

“That’s not fucking fair, she’s the mother of my kids of course I give a shit about her. Yeah she’s a bitch, yeah she doesn’t love me but -”

“But you love her?” Your sarcastic gaze morphs into one of anger, pure feminine rage and you’re ready to unleash it if he says the wrong thing. “Do you fucking love her, Changbin?”

“It’s not that simple.” You throw the folder that he handed you behind you, the papers confetti around the two of you, covering the mattress and floor next to you.

“Go home. Be with the woman you love, be with your kids, your family.” You lean forward, yelling in his face and leaving no room for air, you hate him you hate him so much for doing this to you. For turning you into the woman who loves a married man, even before you slept with him you knew that you loved him. It was the lingering stares and soft touches. It was the early morning conversations and the hot coffee waiting for you as soon as you walked through the door. It was the way that he’d take pictures of you and his kids like you were their mother, like you were a family. “The family that you fuck over every time you fuck me. Get out, leave. 

“I'm in love with you.” He grabs your waist, squeezing and holding you like you’d fly away if he didn’t. The sound of your primal yelling is still ringing in his ears but he ignores it, nothing else matters, all that he wants is for you to hear him. All that he wants is for you to understand that his wife may have a place in his heart but you own it. You and his kids are all that he really loves, all that he really wants. “What do I need to do to get you to see that? What do you want from me?”

His hand trails down to the curve of your hip as his eyes stay on yours. “Do what you promised me you would.” You snap back, shifting in his grip.

“Give me until Friday, that’s all I ask.” His hands run over the bare skin of your thigh, scratching down the sensitive flesh and leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Give me this last chance, please. I won’t fuck this up, I need you.”

He leans in, pressing his torso between your legs and resting his hands on your knees as he gently parts them. You watch him, your chest rising and falling heavily. You’re angry, you’re livid, you’re in love. “I want you so bad, baby, just give me three days.” His fingers inch their way towards the tender flesh of your inner thigh and you sit there, watching him.

“You said this before, you said it last week. Why are you doing this to me?” Your anger has abandoned you, it left you to face this desperate sadness all by your lonesome. Your voice is weaker than you’d like and the familiar pinch of tears fighting to escape visits you again and you’re not sure that you have it in you to fight them this time. “You keep stringing me along, Changbin, you keep -”

“Bunny, I’m begging you, just three days.” His pointer and middle finger sneak over to caress your folds over the gusset of your damp underwear and you shiver at the sensation. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I’m doing this to you. We knew this would be messy.”

He hooks his fingers into the wet fabric, moving it to the side and pressing against your clit softly. You try to keep your eyelids from fluttering shut but it’s no use, they’re closed before you can even think to do otherwise. “This isn’t fair.” You gasp, as he rubs tight circles against the bud, dragging whine from you that you don’t believe he has the privilege to hear. 

“You’re right.” His fingers move down, collecting your dripping slick and spreading it over your needy cunt. You open your mouth to snap back at him but his fingers are sinking into you before you can even get a breath out. “This isn’t fair, you’re right.”

His words are whispers as he watches you, he can feel himself relax as you arch your back into the air and squeeze your eyes shut because of him. For him. “Y-you take so much of me when you leave here.” You take a deep breath in an attempt to steady your speech. Changbin’s fingers pick up speed as you speak.

“What do I take from you, baby?” 

“Everything, you t-take so much of my power, my love, my pride.” A moan interrupts your sentence, and you let your head drop back as he curls his fingers inside of you. “There are so - so many parts of me scattered around your house. There are bits and pieces - pieces of you. So many pieces of you in this room. My pillows smell like you, your coffee mug, your toothbrush, I have it all but - but there’s no you.”  You close your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek.

 "I want to take it all back," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. His thumb finds your clit as you lift your head to look at him and you can’t help but to cry out as you buck your hips into his hand. 

“You don’t mean that.” He whispers back as his spare hand reaches up to wipe the stray tear rolling down your cheek. “ Tell me that, tell me that you don’t mean that.” 

You grind your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers hungrily, desperately. “Look at me.” His voice snaps you out of your fucked out hunger and you meet his gaze, more tears falling from your eyes and he moves his hand beside you to pick up one of the papers you threw. He lifts it to your tear stained cheek and wipes it dry with the paper, his fingers slow down as his eyes scan your face. He loves you, he really is in love with you. If you two had met in a different life or maybe just at an earlier time then you’d be the mother of his kids and he wouldn’t be the CEO of a company he doesn’t give a fuck about, he wouldn’t have to keep his happiness a secret. Why couldn’t that have been the way that things went? 

“I don’t regret any of this. I don’t regret you.” His fingers speed up again and you cry out, your trembling frame is beautiful to him. “You don’t regret me.”

“I don’t.” You moan, your hands tangle in your hair as you pant and whine. “I wish I did.”

“You have so much of me too, you own me. I’m yours. Fuck her, I need you. Anything that you want is yours.” You feel the knot tightening in your stomach and your eyes roll back at the feeling. 

“Say it again, s-say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, baby.” Changbin’s eyes rake over your body as you near your high, your rosy skin is beautiful in the dimly lit room. “I’m yours.”

“Bin, oh my fucking god.” Your legs shake against the bed frame as your orgasm climbs up your spine. He groans, as he cups your cheek and guides your lips to his. He kisses you hungrily, passionately. Desperately. Before you can warn him you break the kiss, your body is falling into his as your legs clamp down around his wrist and he curls his fingers inside of you as you come down from your high. You’re panting against his shoulder as he peppers light kisses against your neck.

“I’m yours, I promise.”

(Unedited)

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Scared Half to Death | Bucky Barnes x reader

Hi! I haven't posted a fic in forever. School has been a nightmare.

I literally wrote this in under an hour lol it's very short and not my best. But I just wanted to get something kinda Halloween-y out there in time to celebrate!

🎃👻🎃👻🎃Happy Halloween! 👻🎃👻🎃👻

Warnings: blood, Bucky's anxiety, injury

Bucky pulled his hand from the doorknob with a disgusted expression. A thick, sticky substance coated his palm and dotted his fingers. He rolled his eyes at whichever small child had covered his door handle in candy residue while he was gone. But just as he tried to wipe the syrupy remnants on his jeans, the color caught his eye. The flash of dark red sent shockwaves through his system. 

He’d stepped away from the apartment for just a few minutes, only long enough to replenish his candy supply for the next wave of trick-or-treaters. But in the short time that he was gone, something terrible- something violent- must’ve taken place. 

He dropped the candy to the floor and struggled to yank his keys from the lock, his hands shaking with anxiety. And when he finally burst through the door of the apartment he shared with you, he only found more carnage. 

Droplets of blood dotted the floor. They coagulated against the tile and wormed their way into the grout, staining it red. Bucky’s stomach turned. A leaden knot formed in his gut and weighed him down like an anchor. Where were you? Was this your blood? Were you hurt- were you dead?

He followed the gruesome path like a trail of breadcrumbs, fearing what he’d find at their end.  Only a few hours ago, everything was perfect. He’d sat with you as you got dressed for your best friend’s Halloween party. He rested on the bed you shared and delighted in watching you dance around the room as you did your make up and put on your costume. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come?” you asked as you shimmied into your costume.

“I’m sure, baby. It’s not really my thing,” he shrugged. “You know how I am with big crowds. Plus, Halloween is a little weird for me. People dress as my friends-” He swallowed hard, “People dress as a version of me that I try not to think about… it’s just not for me.”

“Yeah…” 

Silence filled the room. Guilt coursed through your body with each beat of your heart. Part of you itched to change out of your costume and forget the whole thing.

“You know, I don’t have to go-”

Bucky stood from the bed and made his way to your side, “Yes, you do.”

A stern expression crossed your face, “I really don’t. And I shouldn’t ditch you for a stupid party-” 

“You’re not ditching me,” he said. “You love this party! You look forward to Kelly’s-” he paused, struggling to remember the name of the shindig. “What does she call it again? Her Creep-Tastic?”

You laughed, “Spook-tacular!”

“Right!” Bucky rolled his eyes at his attempt. “You look forward to her Spook-Tacular every year! And I’m not gonna let you miss it just because I don’t wanna go.”

He took your face in his hands, careful not to mess up your make up. Never had anyone made him felt so loved, so cared for. You put him first at every turn, prioritizing his wellbeing and his mental health above all else. You sacrificed so much for him in the early stages of your relationship; the last thing he wanted was for you to miss out on the party you’d looked forward to for the last eleven months. 

“Seriously, doll, I’m gonna be fine. I’ll hand out candy to the kids and watch some tv,” he shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

It wasn’t a trick or a test; Bucky didn’t secretly hope you’d choose him instead of the party. He only wanted you to be happy. And you knew he meant every word he said. 

“Okay. Then tell me…” you did a quick spin, “how do I look?”

Bucky eyed you up and down, drinking in the neon pink and highlighter yellow leotard. The electric yellow kneepads. The pink visor. The bright yellow high-top sneakers. 

“You look amazing, Barbie. You belong in the Dream House!”

Not soon after that, you left. He’d walked you to your Uber and made you promise to be safe. He’d told you that he loved you. And that was the last time he saw you.

Until now. 

The trail of blood ended with you. Bucky discovered you sprawled on your back on the living room rug, your body soaked with blood. Smears of red coated your neck and stained your arms. Your clothes were saturated with gore. This Barbie didn’t belong in the Dream House; she belonged in a nightmare. 

“Oh, god-” Bucky made his way to your side and sunk to his knees, breathless. “Baby, hey- can you hear me? Open your eyes, look at me.” His fingers traced your neck in search of a pulse, desperately scrounging for even a flutter of life. 

And there it was- your pulse. You were still alive; your heart still managed to beat despite the blood loss. 

But Bucky’s gratitude only lasted a moment. He still had to find your wound and stop the bleeding. He had to call 911. He had to keep your heart beating. 

His hands scrounged across your abdomen in search of a stab wound or evidence of a gunshot. But just as he reached for your side, you made a sound.

Did he heard that right? Did you… giggle?

“Whaaaaaaat’re you doin’, Barnes?” you laughed. “Don’t tickle meeeee!” 

Bucky’s gaze shot from your blood-soaked clothes to your face. “Baby?”

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, Barbie!” you slurred, your face plastered with a smile. “Oh, nooooo- wait, you’re just Ken!” A fit of laughter exploded from your chest as you sang, “I’mmm juuuuust KEN! Anywhere elssssse, I’d beeee a TEN-” A sudden contemplative look banished your lighthearted spirit. “But you reeeeally are a ten, Buck… and I mean that.”

Bucky remained frozen. He was lost, confused. Were you woozy from blood loss? Or alcohol? Were you even hurt? Did you need an ambulance or a cold shower? 

“Baby, are you hurt? Are you okay?” He took your face in his hands, “Why are you covered in blood?”

“Because this Barbie hugged her friend!” 

A befuddled expression took over Bucky's face. "What?"

The room spun as you struggled to sit up. Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat; if you were hurt, you needed to lie down. You needed to stop moving and let him dress your wound. But you moved without wincing, without crying out in pain. Sure, you swayed from side to side just a little in your intoxicated state. But that was the worst of it. 

“I hugged Kelly! But Kelly was aaactually Carrie! Y’know, the girl covered in pig’s blood,” you laughed. “It kiiiinda ruined my costume a little. Buut, now I look like Scary Barbie! So s’okay.”

A deep sigh of relief filled Bucky’s lungs. He rocked back off of his knees and plopped down onto his butt. His bloody hands covered his face. “Then what are you doing on the floor, sweetheart?”

“Sometiiiiimes… sometimes ya just gotta lay on the floor. Y’know?” You shrugged, “And I didn’t wanna get allllll the blood on the couch.”

He nodded.

"I guess I fell asleep for a hot sec," you shrugged. "I was just waiting on ya to get home."

Bucky did his best to regulate his breathing, to calm the aggressive tsunami of anxiety that drowned his every cell. His entire world came crashing down the moment he found you on the floor, and now, he had to put it back together. 

“You okay, Buck? I came home early cause I missed yooou- I missed you sooooo much,” you placed a bloodied hand on his face. “But I didn’t mean to ruin your night to yourself. I’m sorry…”

“No, you didn’t ruin anything. It’s not that at all. It’s- baby, I thought…” he shook his head. His heart still pounded against his ribcage, and his breathing hadn't quite evened out. “I thought you were hurt. I thought you were…” He didn’t want to finish his sentence. 

“Ohhhhh, no, I’m fine! I’m okay! I’m drunk…” you laughed, “But I’m okay!”

Bucky pulled you close, grateful that the blood clinging to your skin came out of a bottle. "I know that now, I'm just..." he took a deep breath. "It's just gonna take a minute for my body to catch up with my brain."

His hand roamed up and down your spine. He needed to feel you breathe, to feel your voice vibrate against his palm. Seeing you like that- bloody and unresponsive- on the floor of the home you shared nearly scared him to death.

This wasn't the kind of Halloween scare that flooded his system with pins and needles and left him laughing. No, this stripped him of all breath, of all ability to think. It cut him to the bone.

He never wanted to imagine you getting hurt, getting killed. For him, losing you was a fate worse than death.

The two of you sat there together in the quiet calm as Bucky remembered how to breathe. He held onto you as tightly as he could without leaving bruises, and didn't care than you'd stained his white shirt with your gory mess.

“I’m glad you’re home, doll. And that you’re okay," he said after his heart returned to its normal pacing. "I just- I didn’t expect Bloody Barbie.”

You shrugged, “No one ever does.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh that echoed off the walls and made your heart flutter. “Alright, we need to clean you up and get you to bed, baby. I think we’ve both had enough Halloween shenanigans for the year.”

You allowed him to help you to your feet and guide you to the bathroom for a much needed shower. He was always there for you when you needed him, even without you asking. You knew he'd protect you, do anything for you- he'd even scrub fake blood from your nail beds.

"Buck?" you whispered as he helped you into bed.

"Yeah, baby?"

"You're soooo much better than Ken."

He knew it was a genuine, drunken compliment, but it nearly made him burst out laughing. "Thank you, doll. Yeah, I prefer Allan anyway."

"Saaaaaaame," you sighed, melting into your pillow.

Bucky tucked the covers around you and made sure your water was within reach. He placed a kiss to your forehead, once again thanking his lucky stars that you were home safe.

"Goodnight, Barbie."

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

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[lexisecretaccx]

A+ Student Pt.5

Masterlist!

(Fem reader, suggestive, kissing, smut, female!receiving, etc. Not proofread!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

“She was talking about professor Sturniolo right?” Lizzy asks me hesitantly, I shrug. “Yeah, I’m not bothered though.” I lie unbelievably. “Pfft,” she laughs slightly, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not bothered? You’re literally gripping your skirt so tightly.” I look down as the fabric is clenched in my fists. I let go and laugh slightly, “I guess I do care a little bit.” I sigh.

Chris’ POV

I type up on my laptop plans for the next lesson with y/n’s class, gotta make it easier because I don’t want y/n to struggle. “Mr Sturniolo?” I look up, a woman in a fitted suit jacket with a pencil skirt is staring down at me with her arms crossed. “Uh yeah?” I reply in a confused tone. “I’m gonna need you to come with me please.” She states.

“Okay.. where are we going?” I ask slowly. “The Principal’s office, an anonymous note has told us something we need to talk to you about.” She keeps her eyes forward as she walks quickly ahead. Oh fuck.. this isn’t about what happened at break? Nobody else was in there nobody could’ve heard us, or seen us..

“Everything alright Mr Sturniolo?” She doesn’t look back. “Oh, yeah.. call me Chris if you want.” I try to soften the tone in the air. “No.. I keep it professional.” We arrive at the Principals door and she opens it.

“Hello Christopher.” The principal smiles softly before dropping it. “Take a seat.. thank you Andrea.” The lady leaves the room. “Why am I in here?” I ask, trying to play dumb. “Do you value your job Mr Sturniolo?” He leans on the desk and peers at me from above his glasses. “Yeah of course, I love my job.” I smile.

“Do you respect the workplace and its rules and guidelines?” He asks again staring into my eyes. “Yes I do.” I nod, he grabs something from his drawer and places it in front of me. A mirror. “You seem to have a little.. a lot of things on your neck, do you not?” I look in the mirror at my neck, which is plastered in hickies.

My face drops, “Oh uh.. I had my girlfriend over last night I didn’t know-” I start to explain.. lying obviously. “It’s okay Mr Sturniolo, I don’t need personal details but make sure to cover it up, this is a first warning so you aren’t in trouble.” He smiles softly.

I sigh softly, “I’m sorry.” I scratch the back of my head, “it’s alright, us men like our women but sometimes we have to hide it.” He chuckles and I awkwardly chuckle back. I get up to leave and the principal gives me a little wave. I quickly rush back to the gym and throw on my jacket, which almost covers all of the marks.

It’ll have to do.

Y/n’s POV

I pack up my stuff and leave the sociology classroom, “I fell asleep.” Lizzy smiles as we walk to the exit. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” I sarcastically joke, she let out a few snores causing people around her to laugh. “Did I snore loudly?” She asks nervously, “meh, it was like semi loud.” I laugh and she groans in embarrassment.

“Right I gotta go, my mom needs me,” Lizzy rolls her eyes, “my aunt and uncle are visiting.” She sighs. “Does that mean?” I start to say but she finishes my sentence. “My annoying little cousin is here too.”

Lizzys cousin Theo is like 10 years old and the most annoying kid ever, he will tell his parents any gossip Lizzy says while she’s on the phone, he will constantly go through her stuff and he told Liz’s mom about my secret boyfriend 2 years ago and then my dad found out.. wasn’t fun.

I start to walk home as I get a text from Matt. “I have 2 hours where Chris and Nick aren’t here, at 5. Come over.” I smile and reply, “okayy.” I put my phone away and start to walk home faster. I hear footsteps running behind me, Mason. “Hey.” He smiles, breathing heavily. “How far did you run?” I laugh slightly.

“Just from the bench down there to.. here.” His cheeks are slightly flushed. “I thought you were an athlete, how are you out of breath from that?” I scoff. “I am an athlete y/n, I just didn’t stretch.” He rolls his eyes. “Why are you walking with me?” I ask him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh I am meeting my friends this way to walk home.”

“What are you doing in like an hour?” He asks me, breaking the silence. I look up at him with confusion. “Why?” I hesitantly ask. “I dunno if you wanna like get coffee or something.” He shrugs. He’s got nice intentions but no.

“I’m busy sorry.” I sigh, trying to act sympathetic. “Oh.. no worries, it was worth asking.” He smiles. About 10 minutes pass and I’m about to turn down my street, “I thought you were meeting your friends?” I tilt my head, “yeah I am, in the field down there.” He points down the main road and smiles softly. “Oh okay, this is my street so I’ll see ya.” I smile back.

“Bye y/n!” He calls as I walk away. He’s a sweet person but I just can’t find him attractive, hopefully he finds someone else to like. I walk through my front door to see my dad laying on the couch with a Pepsi in his hand watching sports or something. “Hey dad.” I smile, “hey pumpkin, how was your day?”

Pumpkin is the nickname he’s called me for the past 12 years, because when I was 6 around Halloween we went to a pumpkin patch with mom and I was running and fell face first into a pile of pumpkins and it went all over me. I cried but he thought it was funny to call me pumpkin after that. Now I find it a sweet nickname but I hated it when I was a kid.

“It was okay, I’m going out in like an hour.” I tell him, he nods. “No worries, stay safe though.” I walk upstairs to my bedroom and lay on my bed, spreading my limbs out on it. I take a deep breath before going in the shower.

After my shower I dry my hair and get dressed into a basic fit, I want to be comfy bc I know what’s gonna go down. I do some makeup, not too much, and I go downstairs to leave. “Bye dad!” I call as I leave, “see you later y/n!” I hear from the kitchen. I walk to his house, as it’s only 15 minute walk away, although last time I took a cab.

I finally arrive at Matts house and I see the expensive car is gone. I knock the door hoping Chris and Nick are not there. Luckily Matt opens in and smiles when he sees me, “I’m guessing either Nick or Chris drive the Porsche?” I smirk, “yeah Chris spent a stupid amount of money on it, I drive it sometimes too.” He explains as we walk in.

We sit on the couch, “Deja vu.” I laugh softly, “yeah, except this time I won’t freak out.” He chuckles, “prove it.” I taunt him with a smirk, he tilts his head and grins before leaning in and kissing me, this time feels more passionate.

His hand finds place at the back of my head and the other one on my thigh. My hands entangle in his hair as he pushes me back on the couch slightly, deepening the kiss. His tongue explores my mouth and I let out a soft moan as his hand rubs my upper thigh. He breaks the kiss partially to say something.

“Let’s go upstairs, don’t wanna make a mess on my couch.” He breathes out. I nod and go to stand up but he picks me up like a princess and carries me up the stairs, walking into his room which has a comforting vibe to it. Before I can take it all in he throws me down onto the satin sheets.

“Bet Chris didn’t do this did he?” Matt smirks as he slides my shorts off pulling me to the edge of the bed. “No, it was different because he had to stand and hold me the whole ti-” I start speaking but Matts hand covers my mouth. “I don’t need to hear how my brother fucked you okay?” He looks at me before removing my panties quickly.

He kneels at the end of the bed, his hot breath fanning against my inner thigh as he moves my legs onto his shoulders. “Gonna make you feel good, treat you for being such a good girl in class.” He peppers kisses along my thighs closer and closer to my heat as I squirm. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this with him, he’s had a change of heart now that he knows Chris fucked me first. He’s gonna make this a competition between them I know it.

He starts to kitten lick my folds to tease me, I whine pushing towards him for more. He grabs my hip with one hand, pushing it against the bed to stop me moving. Without warning he dips his tongue inside of me before swirling it around my clit. My back arches off the bed as I moan out.

He grabs both my thighs and pulls me closer, his tongue lapping at my heat. “Fuck Matt..” my hands travel down to his hair as I grip it tightly. He continues to swish and swirl his tongue around me, occasionally dipping it into me causing my back to arch and my grip on his hair to tighten.

“Matt.. I can’t.. I’m gonna cum.. please..” I whimper as his pace doesn’t slow. He hums against me, the vibration hitting my clit in the right way which results in me reaching my high and coming undone. He licks up the rest of my arousal before bringing his face up towards me, I wipe the sweat off of my forehead and breathe heavily.

He leans to kiss me, my arousal still on his chin and I turn my head away, “wipe that off ya lips before kissing me.” I chuckle softly, “you don’t wanna taste yourself? Hm?” He continues to try and put his face by mine, teasing and joking around. “Definitely not, it’s gross.” I squirm, “I disagree, I could have my head between your thighs every day.” He smirks, lifting his shirt to wipe the arousal from his mouth.

“Will you kiss me now?” He grabs my cheeks and brings my face to face his. I nod and he pushes his lips to mine his tongue instantly exploring my mouth, I bite his lip softly and he groans. “Fuck I need you.. to feel you.” He whispers lowly. “Please do..” I whine softly, “You’re gonna take it like the good girl you are.. yeah?” He asks, looking me in the eyes with lust.

“Yes.. of course.. definitely.. I will.” I speak rapidly, needing to feel him inside of my walls. He starts to unbuckle his belt, not breaking the eye contact. He begins to pull down his pants but then.. Slam.

Both of us look towards the bedroom door and back at eachother, “that was a car door right?” I whisper and Matt nods, he checks his watch. “It’s 6pm they said they’d be back at 7.. shit.” He re does his pants back up and I sit up, “get your clothes on.” He throws my panties and shorts at me. His entire tone and body language has changed and now it’s more tense.

“Jeez okay..” I put my clothes back on, I feel gross he didn’t clean me up or anything but I can’t go to the bathroom because they’re home. “What do I do?” I whisper, “just shut up a sec okay?” He snaps, “oh.” I sigh and sit back on the bed. “Matt?” I hear Chris call from downstairs, “stay here.” He spoke softly and I nod, “good girl.” He mumbles before leaving the room and closing it behind me.

I grab my phone from his dresser and open it, 4 missed calls from Lizzy? What the fuck? I text Lizzy, “hey everything okay?” She replies almost instantly, “No. But it’s fine now, no thanks to you though.” Fuck. “I’m pretty busy right now Liz I’m sorry.” I would help her right now but I don’t know what’s happening with me and Matt.

She leaves me on opened. Great, I don’t even know what’s happening or what her problem is. Matt comes back in and grabs my arm, quickly leading me downstairs and through the front door, “see you on Monday.” He whispers flicking his hand so I leave shutting the door behind me. So rude, I thought he was actually giving a fuck about me. It’s raining too, I’m gonna get hypothermia.

I turn to walk down the street away from his house and I hear someone call my name, I look up quickly to see.. Chris?? “Y/n? Why are you by my house?” He asks walking closer, my eyes widen in fear. “Uh.. I was.. fuck, I don’t know.” I lie looking down at my feet. “You stalking me?” He chuckles, I laugh lightly and shake my head.

“No, not that.” I sigh, “it’s cold and raining, you wanna come in for a warm drink or something?” He smiles lightly, I can’t go back in there especially if I just got kicked out by Matt. I thought Chris got home with Nick? “I can’t sorry, I’m going home.” I smile softly, “oh okay.” He looks disappointed. “You were in my house weren’t you?” He steps closer so we are inches apart.

“What no! Why would I be-” I go to like but he cuts me off, “you were with Matt. I know because I heard you shuffling around upstairs when he came downstairs to greet us.” He spoke sternly. “If you were inside then how are you out here?” I ask, looking up at him. “I watched you leave from my bedroom window, then I snuck downstairs and got out quickly to see you.” He sighs.

“So you were stalking me?” I chuckle, “you were the one inside of my house,” he laughs softly, “about that, what were you and Matt doing?” He asks me, but I know he knows the answer. I tilt my head at him, “we didn’t fuck.” I cross my arms, “I never said you did.” He smirks, “I’d rather not go into details.” I scoff.

“Mhm, he wouldn’t have been able to fuck you as good as I can.. right?” He leans down slightly and I shrug. “Right?” He asks again more aggressively. I smirk, “sure whatever you want to believe.” I go to turn around to walk away. “Let me drive you home, you’re gonna get wet ma.” The nickname causes me to turn quickly, “I already am.” I smirk, “in what way?” He tilts his head.

“Not the way you’re thinking, that’s inappropriate Mr Sturniolo.” I bite my lip lightly, “I’ll bring my car around, so Matt doesn’t see you.” He nods and rushes around the corner, the tension was so strong but the rain is getting worse I can’t think about anything other than my hands freezing off. The Porsche drives around the corner and pulls up, I open the passenger door and get in.

“Thanks.” I breathe out, he presses the seat heaters on and leans in the seat behind him and pulls out one of his jackets. “Put that on, you should wear it to school on Monday.” He smirks, “it’s a college not a school.” I scoff, “same thing, and I can take the jacket back if you’re gonna be ungrateful.” He looks at me before laughing slightly.

“You know.. I should be mad that you were with my brother but for some reason, I don’t give a shit.” He adds, turning on music, “Maybe it’s because you’ve got a bigger-” I stop myself, “a bigger??” He asks, “Ego.” I huff. “Sure, sure.” He smiles.

He pulls over for a moment “Wait where do you live? I just realised I don’t know where I’m going.” He looks at me, “we don’t need to go to my house right now.” I grin, “what’re you thinking?” He tilts his head, “I think we should go for a drive and chill out.” I smile.

“Does chilling out include you riding me in the backseat or..” he laughs and I do too, “Chris!” I say and pause for a moment. “Maybe.. just keep driving.” I add. He smiles widely and starts to drive again..

A/n: I haven’t written this in a while but omg I’m excited to continue, I’m pretty busy with school atm but I will try to update asap. Also sorry for edging y’all with this.. why am I kinda team Chris tho 😖 and Matt is kinda an asshole sorry not sorry

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