#one positive i can find is it looks like they did add or at least fix 1 scene for wyll:

[viiennie]

𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊��� 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

Gojo Satoru x f!reader

chapter one

Tags and warnings: Zombie Apocalypse, mentions of gore (including blood and death), slight angst (?), spoilers to ‘Happiness’, eventual smut, female reader, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, lovey dovey sex in the midst of a literal lock down, masturbation, slow burn kinda?, fluff, romance, drugs, manipulation, exhibition, gojo is a pervertttttt, mdni — 18+, enemies to lovers word count: 4093

You never thought that at the ripe age of 29, you’d be taking walks for the sole purpose of hoping to find dropped money on the road. 

Hey, You can’t be blamed now, can you? Life is completely unpredictable, and you’re just glad you at least have an apartment to sleep in and a job that pays kinda enough. But what can you do when the bills are still high, and you still got a loan to settle? Your salary barely covers your living expenses, and you’ve got those damn loan sharks to be worrying about to add to the list. 

You always thought life would go well after graduating Criminology and getting a job in the military. To top it all off, you climbed the ranks and secured a respectable position without getting your hands dirty. Back then, you lived on the tallest floor of your dream apartment and bought all your dream cars to drive and wake the neighbors with.

It was the sweetest life had gotten. 

If only you didnt—

Riiiiiing!

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, the lights flashing as the name of your boss along with the picture of a very stern looking pig pops up on screen. You sigh, staring at it and pondering if you should answer the call. Your finger hovers over the green logo, a hesitation in the twitch of your digits as you debate missing the call and getting a handful of scolding when you go to work or answering and getting the same amount of scolding for something stupid you probably did while on the job. 

Another sigh leaves your lips when you decide to answer.

“There’s a job for you. I emailed all the details to you.”

He hangs up, not even bothering to hear a response from you. 

God, he’s always like that. Acting like some VIP, treating everyone else like they were below him. Countless times have you slapped the shit out of him in your dreams, and countless times have you hurled curses at him behind his back. Why’s there always a stick up his ass anyway?

You open the pdf file in your email, groaning at the 42 pages you have to read over. 

You work as a bodyguard now, the only place that didn’t blacklist you being an executive protection services company. Your job was to make sure your clients stayed out of harm's way, and so far, it’s been an absolute piece of cake compared to your previous occupation. You just had to stand behind them, look intimidating, and keep that up for the rest of the day.

As you skim over the file, you realize that this was the typical case of a nepo baby being rebellious whilst getting neglected by their parents. It was always, ‘I just can’t seem to control my teenager’ ‘He gets out of hand and always ends up almost killing himself.’ but they have never considered the fact that they’ve barely present in their child’s life?

Your duties consisted of absurd things, like cooking and making meals for the client, ensuring he does not leave the house, and even doing the laundry. A rise of annoyance boils in you as you continue to read down your responsibilities—things that nannies would do. If they wanted to hire one then they should’ve contacted someone else, not a body guarding company. Besides, why was this task assigned to you and not someone more qualified? You don’t ever remember putting ‘experienced nanny’ in your resume. 

No. You’re not doing this. You had your pride to—

Total Salary: 15,000,000 ₩ per day.

Well, it’s not like taking care of a child is that hard right? Besides, you do these so-called duties everyday for yourself! Not like adding an extra pair of clothes to the washing machine or cooking for two would be that hard. And! you get to sleep in a million dollar penthouse for three whole days, who wouldn’t miss that offer? And the living expenses are covered by your client too? Man, the pros are really outweighing the cons right now. 

You carefully read through the pages, scanning over the personal details of your new beloved client.

Full Name: Gojo Satoru

Birthday: 1994 December 7

Age: 28

Gender: Male

You blink

Once, twice, and then thrice.

Are you seeing this right?

The person you’re going to be babysitting is in fact not a little boy, but a grown ass man at the ripe age of 28? The person you’re going to be cooking and cleaning for is a grown adult capable of doing these daily chores with all of his four limbs intact? This couldn’t possibly be right, could it? You shake your head, scrolling back to look at the delicious view of the 15 million displayed on your phone screen. So what if it was a grown man? That means you wouldn’t have to be too worried about buying toddler food and all that, right? And him being an adult means he’s perfectly capable of doing his own chores, meaning, less work for you! 

Yeah, that’s right.

Things don’t have to be negative.

You inhale, gathering your thoughts and prayers, hoping this wasn’t about to be the worst decision of your life. No way it will be. It’s just for three short days anyway. And what if you actually end up getting along well with the guy?

Day One

Standing before these grand doors bring back memories you never liked. It reminded you of what you used to be—what kind of glory you used to hold. The keys in your palms feel cold, like ice that doesn’t melt despite the warmth your skin radiates. It feels illegal entering someone’s home without knocking— it's like you’re trespassing. But what can you do when those are your instructions?

The door to the penthouse swings open, the sound echoing through the spacious hall. The moment you step inside, the air feels different—cool, fresh, like everything in this space was designed with immaculate precision. You take a second to absorb the layout: sleek, minimalistic furniture, modern art pieces hanging from the walls, soft ambient lighting, and large glass windows that offer a wonderful view of the city. It’s everything you’d expect from a man who has money to burn but little else to do with it. It’s also everything you’ve ever wanted ever since falling into this pit of poverty.

You take another step in, and the door closes behind you with a soft click—a sound that tells you you’ve just sealed your fate. You take a deep breath in, to prepare your beating heart, and exhale, reminding yourself that you’re here now, and that this is really happening. 

“Hello?” you call out, your voice carrying a bit farther than you intended in the vast silence. You wait for a response, but there’s nothing but an eerie stillness. You feel awkward in this large space, your senses used to the small cozy apartment you lived in. You feel like a misplaced object here, like a piece of banana peel in the middle of a diamond sea. 

Then, suddenly, you hear a loud thud from what sounds like the far side of the apartment, followed by a burst of laughter. It’s carefree and youthful, almost too much so for someone who’s supposed to be the CEO’s son. Your eyes narrow as you start walking further into the apartment, your boots clicking sharply against the polished floor.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!" The voice calls out lazily, not even bothering to sound apologetic.

You stop in your tracks as a figure finally appears at the threshold of what you assume is the study. Satoru Gojo strides out, looking like he couldn’t care less about your presence. His white hair is slightly messy, falling carelessly over his forehead, and he’s dressed casually in a loose-fitting white shirt and black pants, the kind of outfit someone of his status might wear to keep things comfortable while still looking polished. You stare at him for a moment, noting how his playful, almost mischievous grin makes him seem like someone who hasn’t taken a single thing seriously in his life. Maybe this is why they told you to just walk in without warning. This guy didn’t even bother standing up the moment he heard someone entering his home.

“So, you’re the new babysitter?” His tone is light, amused, and you can already tell he’s not taking this job seriously at all. He doesn’t even bother to get off the couch, merely reclining with his legs sprawled out in front of him. “I thought they’d send someone with a little more... personality.”

Your lips press into a tight line, frustration rising in your chest. This was the guy you were supposed to be protecting? It was a far cry from what you had imagined. It’s okay! You expected this. I mean, the pay wouldn’t be 15 million for no reason right? All you had to do was endure this asshat for 3 days, and you’d be out, never having to do it again with the amount of money you’ll accumulate by then. 

“I’m not your babysitter, Gojo,” you reply flatly, setting the file down on the coffee table between you. “I’m here to ensure you stay out of trouble for the next three days.”

He doesn’t seem fazed, however. He tilts his head back and stretches his arms over his head with a casual ease that only someone with his kind of wealth and status could pull off. “Oh, come on, you don’t have to be so serious all the time, miss. Relax a little. This doesn’t have to be a hard job, does it?” 

You nod, a small, twitching smile on your lips. Yeah, this doesn’t have to be hard for the two of you, just don’t let yourself be absorbed into his insufferableness, and things will be all fine and dandy.

The smile on his face never fades, though there’s something in his eyes—something that makes you realize he’s enjoying the tension between you more than he should. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regards you with a look that borders on teasing. “Don’t worry miss bodyguard, I’ll make sure to cooperate extra well for you,” he says, his voice oozing with mock sincerity.

Gojo’s eyes flicker with curiosity for a brief moment before his grin turns more knowing. You were far from what he expected. When his father told him he’d be hiring professionals to keep him in check, he was expecting a middle aged old grump with a tragic backstory, not an angry little kitten that was his age. 

You take a deep breath, keeping your cool. You’re a professional. You endured 4 years of brutal training, and spent the next 5 years being an active soldier, one man child isn’t gonna break you. “Where do we start?”

“Start?” Gojo repeats, his eyes twinkling with a challenge. “I’ll give you a tour of the place. Get settled in, and we’ll figure things out from there.” All of a sudden, he’s all buddy-buddy and normal, standing from his seat with a groan that tells you it’s the first time in a few long hours he’s standing from that couch.

“Okay,” you mutter, though you know the last thing you need is to be stuck following him around all day. But you have no choice now—this is the job you so happily accepted. Perhaps you just had a bad first impression, right? Maybe this is just his personality and he’s actually a nice guy under all that ego!

Gojo leads you through the penthouse with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, his movements exaggerated for your benefit. The whole time, you feel his eyes on you, like he’s analyzing you as much as you’re analyzing him. He talks non-stop, making sarcastic comments here and there, each one more annoying than the last, and you keep your responses short but interactive. Last thing you wanna hear is him whining about you being a cold person. 

When you finally arrive at the guest room, he gestures dramatically to the sleek, modern decor. “There you go. It’s not much, but it’ll do for the next ten days. I hope you like the view,” he adds, pulling back the heavy curtain to reveal a stunning view of the city skyline, one you’ve seen countless times in your dreams. 

You take a step inside, but before you can say anything, Gojo’s already made his way back to the living room. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

As you stand there, staring at the sprawling apartment, you feel a strange tension in the air. You’ve dealt with dangerous situations, but this—this was something else. This penthouse may be the safest area in the entire apartment complex, but there’s something in here that greatly unsettles you, that what’s dangerous isn’t outside of this place, but inside. Your eyes linger on the door that your manchild is behind and you finally realize how hard your heart is thumping against your chest. 

It’s Gojo.

Gojo’s the dangerous one here. 

Shaking your head, you set down your bags, neatly placing them against the door before you pull out your phone to check if there were any updates from your boss—any additional information or duties perhaps, but your notification bar is empty. (thankfully)

Ding!

Omg, have you heard about the attack at the training center?

You raise an eyebrow at the text you received from a friend that was followed by a 10 second video she sends. The thumbnail sends chills down your spine, the image of an unsettling trainee with bloodshot eyes and protruding veins being the first thing you see. He has blood dripping down his chin, his teeth stained with a deep red. There's no possible way that was real. This is probably a prank, right?

As you play the video, you realize the unmoving body in the background with blood pooling around it isn't a prank. Neither is the way the zombie thing continues to bang its head against the glass part of the door where the cameraman stands behind. You can hear people screaming in the background and the labored breathes of the person holding the camera.

What the fuck?

For this type of thing to happen in a military training center is unheard of. With the amount of security and the amount of trained professionals around, they would shoot at the sight of suspicious movement. Perhaps that trainee was infected in the facility itself?

You sigh, shaking your head. That wasn't for you to worry about. You're sure they've already taken care of the situation, making sure no one else would be harmed after one casualty. Besides, you weren't even in the military anymore, so what business did you have with all this?

You lock your phone and toss it onto the counter with a bit more force than intended, the dull clatter echoing in your quiet apartment. For a moment, you stand there, staring at the blank wall in front of you, the disturbing video replaying itself in your mind despite your best efforts to shake it off. It was none of your business, you remind yourself. You weren't a part of that world anymore—no chain of command, no classified briefings, no need to carry the weight of threats on your shoulders.

Still, the unease lingers like an itch you can't quite scratch. The image of that bloodied trainee and the helpless body in the background refuses to leave your thoughts, clawing its way into the forefront no matter how hard you try to shove it back. The screams and the clattering of rushes footsteps ring in your ears like a broken radio.

“Snap out of it,” you mutter to yourself, dragging a hand through your hair. Standing still wasn’t helping. Maybe you just needed to clear your head, step outside for a bit and distract yourself with something mundane. Groceries. That was the perfect excuse to leave this place. And besides, it would help to restock in the case that a zombie apocalypse would really break out soon.

Opening the door, you’re surprised to see Gojo sitting in the living room, manspread as he switches through the channels with a bored look on his face. His eyes glaze over to you, a grin stretches through his lips. “Out so soon? I know my face is irresistible, but you barely spent 5 minutes in there, miss bodyguard.” As soon as he opens his mouth, it’s like flies are flocking over to him. You push aside the feeling of annoyance, not wanting to waste energy on him. 

“I’m going out to buy groceries. Is there anything you want?” You sigh for the fifth time today, hand resting on the doorknob of the front door. 

“Anything sweet pleaseee” He hums sending you a wink that has you cringing before focusing back on the TV.

Nodding, you make sure the credit card provided to you is safe in your pocket before heading out. You’re greeted by a kind cleaning lady who smiles at you with fondness, “My, I didn’t know such a pretty young lady lived here!” Her voice is soft, reminding you of your grandmother whom you dearly miss. You smile back at her, feeling yourself relax in her presence, “I’m not moving in, auntie. Just staying with a friend for a few days.”

“Oh my, that’s a shame. I would have loved to see you everyday!”

You chuckle at her response, politely saying goodbye before stepping into the empty elevator. 

Whilst you were out on a grocery store run, Gojo shuts off the TV, a serious expression overturning his previously cheerful one. He was getting sick and tired of his father hiring these people to watch over him like he was a child. Being a detective was a step he took to free himself from the chains of being born into his family, a step he took to rebel against his unreasonable father, who was a businessman obsessed with continuing his legacy, he didn't expect the price he had to pay would be getting house arrested by his father in his own home with some stranger.

He hops off of the couch, walking over to your room and opening the door without a care in the world. He snoops through your things, looking through your identification cards, opening all the pockets in your bag. He’s surprised when he discovers an ID tucked away in the deepest depths of your bag, as if you didn't want to see it but kept it with you because you didn't want to let go.

​​Gojo's fingers brush against the smooth, metallic edge of the card as he pulls it out of the hidden pocket in your bag. The ID feels substantial in his hands, heavier than an ordinary card, exuding an air of authority and importance. He almost feels guilty snooping around like this.

The front of the card is dominated by a sleek, black matte finish that absorbs light, giving it a tactical, almost stealth-like appearance. At the top, bold silver letters gleam against the dark background:

“13th Special Mission Brigade”

Below that, a faint watermark of the Decapitation Unit’s insignia—a black panther—catches the light at certain angles, visible only upon close inspection. 

Your photograph occupies the upper-left corner, a stern, no-nonsense expression on your face. You wear your ceremonial full dress uniform, badges of what you've done and where you've been displayed onto the clean cloth. Next to the photo, your name is printed in capital letters, the font crisp and official: 

Y/N L/N

Lieutenant Colonel, Decapitation Unit

Beneath your name, your serial number and rank are listed in smaller, but equally precise text, alongside a QR code that has been scratched out, an occurrence that happens only if you've been discharged from duty.

The right side of the card displays the unit's motto in embossed silver script:  

Silence in Action, Swift in Justice.

Just below the motto is a small holographic seal that shifts between the South Korean flag and the emblem of the Decapitation Unit, further verifying its authenticity that Gojo was most definitely not doubting at this point. Around the edges, faintly visible microtext runs continuously, forming a border of tiny but legible words repeating:  

For honor, for country, for the safety of all.

On the back, the design is equally meticulous. The background is a faint camouflage pattern in shades of gray and black, with a magnetic stripe running across the top. Centered in bold red letters is a warning:  

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY: This card must be presented upon request. Unauthorized use is punishable by law.

Beneath it, a small, clear rectangular panel reveals an embedded fingerprint that has also been scratched out by a blade. The rest of the back contains rows of text detailing clearance levels, blood type, and emergency contact information.

Gojo turns the card over in his hands, raising an eyebrow. "So, former Lieutenant Colonel, huh?" he murmurs to himself, a mix of admiration and suspicion flickering in his eyes. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he slipped the card back where he found it, making sure to tuck it away with the same care. 

“Guess you’re not as simple as you seem, miss bodyguard,” he mutters, stepping out of your room. The gears in his mind are already turning, trying to piece together just how someone with your past ended up here, protecting him.

The buzzing of your phone on the bedside table catching his attention, the constant dings sending a mix of irritance and curiosity through him. Well, he’s already touched all your things, what more was a phone? He takes the phone in his hands, testing his luck by typing 12345 in. He face palms when your phone opens, wondering why a special forces agent would set a password like that on her phone. He opens the chat that’s been spamming you, skimming over the ‘y/n stop ignoring meee’ ‘i know you’re seeing this’ and the random emojis being sent. 

A video with the thumbnail equivalent to a zombie horror movie garners his attention, his finger tapping the play button without much thought, thinking he’d be watching some kind of trailer to an upcoming film. But he’s met with a gruesome sight, the same thing you had watched before leaving. His eyebrows furrowed as he tries to comprehend the scene.

Then he’s reminded of a recent case he investigated before being locked in this penthouse by his father. It was manslaughter, with the victim being the front desk worker of a motel. The crime scene was gruesome—bite marks and ripped flesh along the neck of the man. They had originally thought the perpetrator fled from the scene, but as he scanned the room, he discovered the motherfucker hiding under the bed, his mouth still dripping with blood. “I don’t remember much of what happened.” He said as they interrogated him on the scene, “I just took this drug, and before I knew it, I kinda blacked out.” 

He had originally thought it was a classic case of reckless manslaughter under the influence of illegal narcotics because the perpetrator seemed perfectly human. No bloodshot eyes and no visible veins like in the video he watched. 

Perhaps they were completely unrelated. 

He’s about to erase all evidence of him snooping around your phone until the last message your friend sends makes him pause.

‘They say he returned to normal when he was transported into the vehicle, that’s so freaky!’ 

Okay, they’re definitely related.

He puts your phone back on the table, rushing to his room where he opens his drawer and removes the hidden compartment that contained a capsule he found in the crime scene of the motel safely sealed in a tiny ziplock bag. It’s clear blue with a shine around the edges. He opens his laptop, entering the police force search engine and encoding his badge number before surfing the net for information about a blue capsule drug. 

The most similar one in appearance is a treatment drug for pneumonia called, ‘Next’. It had failed due to the fact that it was mutagenic, meaning it had the chance of mutating human DNA. 

It didn’t take a lot of brain cells to conclude that this drug was probably the cause for the odd series of events. Judging from the way an apocalypse hasn’t started and he doesn’t hear people screaming for their lives, then the military probably has this disease under control. Just when he’s about to sigh from relief, he hears a loud thud from the hallway of his apartment building, followed by three more before an eerie silence deafens him. He has half the mind to check outside, but he knows that’s probably the last thing he wants to do. The amount of horror movies he’s binge watched tells him that the first to die is always the one to check whatever’s going on.

Then his front door opens. 

“(y/n)...?” He calls out, goosebumps rising on his skin. 

“Gojo, stay in your room.”

He’s not sure why, but he’s relieved it’s you who walked through that door, and not some flesh eating monster.

a/n: first chapter outtt yaaayyyyy!!!! kinda scared for this series bc the premiere didnt get a lot of attention😞 anyway!! hope u guys enjoyed this chapter💖

taglist: @atomicweaselpaperapricot @boothillglazer

[admirationandromantics]

Forced Confession

He would. We've already seen it!!! Anyways, this does not feature some of Josh's "darker" methods, but just early game banter. I tried a little with just the two boys, but let me tell you, I struggle so incredibly much with the guy pov. I still think it worked out. You basically got two scenarios and the locked-in bedroom-bit. Enjoy <3

Word count: 1,4k (Unedited)

imagine josh trying to set you up with chris kinda like he tried to do with chris and ashley, he makes comments about you to chris pissing him off and getting him all riled up, he sends you off to do some tasks together until he locks you both in some bedroom at the lodge and he's kinda forced to confess to you 👀👀 -anon

“You know, she’s really hot, if you don’t do anything about it, Mike might” Josh tells Chris, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Dude, please, don’t rush me” 

“Oh come on, she’s not going to wait forever, you’ve been a perfect gentleman, now get going with it!” 

Chris furrows his brows, unsure about how to react. It’s true, you guys have been walking around the bush for too long, and now, you might set your sights on someone else. At the same time, if he did confess, and you didn’t feel the same, he’d ruin everything you guys had, everything you’d built up. 

“Man, I know, but what if something goes wrong, it might”

“Or you might fuck until dawn, and to be honest, I think I’m right” 

“I don’t know” 

Josh sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. His friends were dumb as shit, and it annoyed the hell out of him. If you guys just got done with it already, there’d be so much less tension in the room. 

“Okay, proposal. If you take her against that tree right there, I’ll give you fifty dollars”

“What?” 

“Seventy if I can tape it” 

“What, no, absolutely not” 

“You had your chance” 

***

A loud smack is heard, and both mine and Josh’s heads turn to the window. Chris is not there anymore. The lodge lock was frozen, and we had to find another way in. Chris seemed like he had a plan, and Josh and I followed through, managing to open a window and looking inside. Or, falling inside, at least Chris did. He lets out a loud whine, and Josh helps me up on the box to look inside. The clumsy blonde is laying on his back, on the floor, eyes pressed tightly together and arms laying weakly in each direction. I give him a look. This man needs to be more careful. Josh appears beside me, using the frame of the window for stability. 

“I should’ve paid more attention in climbing class” 

“You mean gym?” 

I let out a laugh as Chris gets up, groaning in pain. 

“You okay, Chrissy?” 

“Yeah, yeah” he mumbles, waving his hand. I look deeper inside the cellar. Everything’s dark and creepy, and I would definitely prefer to wait outside with the others. 

“Okay, you next” Josh exclaims, hand laid out as if asking for a dance. 

“What, absolutely not. Have you seen the inside?” 

“Believe it or not, but I have” he smirks, shaking his head to Chris. I roll my eyes, everyone’s being a prick today. Especially this guy with his suggestive comments and small favours. 

“Fine” I conclude, starting to climb. I get one leg in, laying flat on my stomach as I try to get through, hopefully safer than Chris. 

“Incoming!” Josh shouts, pushing me inside. I yelp, my whole body falling inside, muscles tightening and eyes closing, waiting for the impact. Instead of a concrete floor, two strong hands grab me, a little weakly at first, but then tightening the grip. I open my eyes, seeing Chris looking down worriedly, holding me bride style. 

“And there came the princess, off to the honeymoon guys!” he shouts, about to leave us. 

“Are you fucking insane, Washington?” I yell at him, cheeks flustered from my position. I try not to think about it, but every time I turn my eyes, he’s already staring at me. 

“No, just getting things going, you know?” 

“Man, be careful won’t you? She could’ve gotten hurt” Chris adds, hands grabbing me harder. I have to look away, ashamed by how turned on I get by his hands and grip. 

“Nah, you wouldn’t have let that happen. Enjoy yourselves, though not too much!” Josh finishes, jumping down from the box and leaving us in the cellar. 

“Um, you can put me down now” I say, smiling up at him. He looks as if in a trance, eyes big and sparkly. My request makes him shake his head, nodding and gently letting me down. I don’t miss the opportunity to caress his chest, his jacket a little open. Hopefully, the touch is so subtle he doesn’t notice. 

“Of course, of course. Let’s find the bathroom” 

***

Sam walks up to me, head tilted in an innocent manner. A way that makes it feel… not so innocent. 

“Hey, I left my towel in the guest room, can you grab it?” 

“Can’t you?” I ask back, everything feeling out of place. Something’s up, and I don’t know what. 

“Josh is waiting for me in the cellar, to get the warm water running, I’m about to go down, can you just grab it, please?” 

I nod, giving her a sceptical ‘sure’, making her smile. She walks away, and I wait for a couple of seconds, just to check that this isn’t some set-up. After about 20 seconds, I make my way to the room. I would’ve seen or heard her by now if she was watching or planning something. 

The hallway is empty, the only sound being my boots on the dark wood floor. This year feels different than before. Something’s in the air, and that scares me. Maybe Josh is planning something? It wouldn’t be the first time. Sometimes I even wonder if he’s out to get me. Usually when it’s about Chris though. He can’t just accept that he doesn’t feel that way about me, and if I did something, he’d be freaked out and I’d ruin everything we have. I walk into the room, being met with the blonde himself. 

“Chris?” 

He turns, looking at me surprisingly, then shifts his gaze around the room. Before either of us can put two and two together, the door smacks shut, a small click coming from the other side. Shit, those little fucks. 

“Hey!” I yell, banging on the door. A load of snickers are heard from the outside, making me yell louder and hit harder. Chris sighs, walking over to me and trying a calmer approach. 

“Guys, come on. We’re supposed to get ready to party all night long, right? Now let us out” 

“No fucking way!” Josh laughs, earning himself a high five from Sam. At least that’s what it sounds like. 

“What was it you told me a while ago? Oh, that day Chris was wearing a t-shirt, showing off his arms?” Sam teases, and I hit the door as hard as I can. Chris looks my way, intrigued by the continuity. Sam and Josh talks as if they’re on a children's tv show, each sentence clear and horrific to hear. 

“What did she say, Sam?” Josh jokes, making the whole situation worse. My cheeks flush, terrified of the next sentence. 

“Yeah, what did you say?” Chris asks, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. I shake my head. This cannot be happening. 

“I think it was something about being headlocked and fucked from behind while he flexes his muscles?” 

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Sam!” I shout, head in my hands from the humiliation. Fucking god, Christ, holy shit. I’ll be dead before I get to kill her. Being locked into a room with Chris, forcing him to hear everything. 

“Oh, what a coincidence Sam, do you know what dear old Chris said the other day?” 

“Oh, do tell!” Sam exclaims, clapping her hands in excitement. 

“I think it was that day she was wearing a skirt” 

I perk my ears, and suddenly intrigued myself. Now Chris was the one banging on the door, telling them to shut up. His ears are red, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. Josh continues either way. 

“Something about him pushing her against the wall, lifting her leg until she’d be fully exposed and showing herself off to him while he pounds into her” 

My mouth falls open, looking over at an embarrassed Chris. He’s turned away from me, too ashamed to meet my gaze. Sadly, I know how he feels. Carefully, my hand makes it to his torso, grabbing a bit of his sweater and turning him around. My pulse skyrockets, his gaze darker than ever, tongue licking slowly over his lower lip. I lean forward, and before I can make my next move, he does it for me. My back is slammed against the door, lips meeting mine in a hungry, passionate manner, eating me up. My hands fly to his neck, pulling him closer while nails scratch his skin. 

“Oh shit, that thud was definitely not out of anger. We don’t want to hear this, Josh” Sam says, both of their footsteps walking down the hall, the sounds growing lesser and lesser from the distance. But honestly, no matter how close they are, I can’t really hear them. I’m too caught up with Chris’s small moans and groans, the way they vibrate down my throat.

[pinacoladamatata]

OUT OF CURIOSITY: Is anyone able to load up bg3 and check in act 3 (near the wyrmway stuff) what Wyll's quest looks like in the quest journal?

because I have seen several people say "Wyll's quest was downgraded to a subquest" and "they cut content form Wyll's main quest", when the actual patch note says:

"Wyll's quest regarding the Wyrmway is now a subquest instead of part of his main quest."

It was not removed. So I would EXPECT that this means the wyrmway bullet point is now just in a different spot in the quest journal and this would not impact gameplay at all. I would certainly not expect there to be missing dialogue from Wyll/that entire quest axed. but i cannot load up the game atm to go look.

[alexiroflife]

jjk men when you aren't feeling well but try to hide it...

"hello! i was wondering if you could write an angst but w comfort fluff headcannon w the jjk men? i was thinking reader has an injury or is sick but she hides it, but they find out. it would be great if you can, but if not i totally understand. your writing is amazing!!!" -anon

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo: (sprained ankle!)

you're fucked.

you know you are the moment you go to pick yourself up from your boyfriend's hardwood kitchen floors and wince in pain in reaction to the pressure in your left ankle.

you hiss, immediately stumbling back to a sitting position. You look over your outstretched foot to find that your ankle is rapidly swelling, and you curse under your breath.

this is so inconvenient. of all times to injure yourself, you of course had to a day before an important mission. you never handle injuries very well. you are always so quick to brush them off, or at least be in denial about them because you can't stand the thought of feeling helpless or incapable.

especially not when satoru gojo is your boyfriend, who unfortunately knows you far too well to overlook something like an injury to your ankle.

damn. what are you supposed to do? satoru will never let you out of his sight, let alone allow you to go on this mission if he finds out about your injury. as much as you love the way he looks after you, you're not in the mood to accept the fact that you may not be able to walk for a few days without his help.

you try to stand again, stubborn with determination. you grip onto the countertop and rise slowly on your able foot, then lean to press your injured foot down slowly. okay... not so bad! Maybe you can add just a little bit more pressure, and-

"fuck," you curse, sharp pain throbbing through your foot the moment you try to walk. You lift your leg immediately and whimper, leaning your body against the counter. "god dammit," you pout.

you should ice it, you think, but icing it will only make the injury more real. maybe it's not so bad, right? maybe if you just sit down for a bit and push it to the back of your head, it will go away?

you know it's not smart, but truthfully, you don't have the time to worry about a stupid ankle. you're sure you only irritated it. with some rest, you'll be fine.

you hop your way up the stairs with your hand gripping the railing tightly to your shared bedroom and ease yourself into bed. you decide you'll take a nap while you wait for satoru to come home, ignoring the simmering pain in your swollen ankle.

"babyyy!"

you wake suddenly to the sound of satoru's voice singing through the house. you jump and immediately hold in a whimper of pain when you accidentally shift your foot beneath the covers. you can tell solely by the lack of mobility in your ankle that it's, unsurprisingly, gotten worse.

you panic, moving quickly to prop your back up against the headboard. you fix yourself in the most normal possible position you can without agitating your foot, and you turn to the door with an innocent expression the second satoru bursts through with a beam.

"hey, pretty," he walks in and immediately crouches over the bed to wrap you up in a hug. you cringe as his lips meet every crook of your face, his body enveloping you in warmth. "missed you so much today," he sighs.

"missed you too, toru," you wrap your arms around his back. "how was your day?"

"same old same old. the higher-ups only get more annoying each day, if that's even possible," he grumbles into your ear, slumping against you. "what are you doing cooped up here all by yourself? you taking a nap?"

"yeah, I just woke up," you tell him with a hefty exhale, his lips meeting the crook of your neck lazily as he nuzzles into you. "you wanna take one with me, you big baby?" you giggle.

"god yes," satoru agrees. "but first, I'm starving. did you eat while I was gone?"

"nah, I waited for you, toru."

"well, you normally cook, baby, I was waiting for you."

you momentarily freeze and he pulls back reluctantly, not before dotting one more kiss to the crook of your jaw. you had completely forgotten about making dinner, but seeing how you couldn't even walk, those cards were off the table.

he looks down at you with his arms propped on either side of your figure on the bed. your ankle continues to throb, and while you try to hide the pain that you are currently in by shifting ever so subtly beneath him, his sapphire eyes catch the twitch in your brow and the motion of your body beneath his blindfold.

"not that I care if you cook or not. obviously you were tired..." he trails off. "you okay?"

fucking hell, damn those six eyes.

you nod despite yourself, keeping a soft smile as you brush your fingers over satoru's hair. "yeah, of course. just tired like you said. I'm sorry about dinner, it slipped my mind."

"don't you dare apologize," he ducks down to kiss your cheek loudly. "we can go out to eat. make it a date before your big mission tomorrow, yeah?"

you internally deflate. the idea sounds amazing, but going on a date would mean getting up, getting dressed, and walking out the door. you're unfortunately physically incapable of doing any of the above at the moment.

satoru watches the way your shoulders slump and your lips part as if to protest, and he tilts his head in slight confusion. "...or not..." he says slowly.

"sorry, toru, it's not that I don't wanna go, i just don't have the energy..." you excuse pathetically.

satoru's face tells you that he doesn't buy your words, but he complies nonetheless. "that's no problem, baby, we can order in instead."

you sigh and nod with a gentle smile. "that sounds great."

"someone's feeling real lazy today, huh?" he teases, hooking his finger into his blindfold to peel it from his face, revealing his bright irises gazing curiously down at you. "you sure you're just tired?"

"yeah... why?"

"i'm just askin," he says. his eyes dart over you one more time before he pushes himself up with an exhale and tugging at your arm. "come on, let's go to the living room to order."

why the hell does he want to move around so much?!

"um- why can't we just order here?"

a smile quirks on Satoru's lips as though you've made a joke. "cause, we'll be downstairs once the food gets here," he says.

you pucker your lips slightly and tilt your head. "can't we just eat it up here and you can go get it?"

gojo's eyes are now slim with suspicion as he pulls himself back over to you. "i mean, of course i can but you never eat takeout in bed, we always cuddle downstairs and eat."

"I'm tired, can't i change it up today?"

"you know i have no problem doing what you want and pampering you baby," satoru starts slowly. his eyes dash to your legs, and he suddenly notes that he has not seen you bend them in the few minutes he has been home. in fact, you had been rather stagnant instead of running up to clobber him when he entered the room, whether you were previously asleep or not. "but you're acting a little weird."

"no, I'm not," you deny adamantly. you have always been a poor liar, but in the face of Satoru Gojo, your lack of talent in the arena only proves to be more prominent. "you think too much, you know that?"

"you think so?" he raises a brow at you, a hint of playfulness remaining though it is steadily fleeting the longer he examines you. "you think i'm thinking too much if i feel like you're lying to me?"

you press your lips together tightly. "...yes."

"hm," he nods. "come here for a second, pretty," he requests, stepping back a bit to give you room to stand. "just real quick, then you can lay back down and I'll get us that food."

"why do you want me to stand?"

"i wanna give you a big hug," he opens his arms widely. "c'mon, give your loving boyfriend a hug. you'd never deny me that after such a long day."

"come hug me here, then," you roll your eyes, turning to look the other way as heat overtakes your body.

"i want to hold you and pick you up," he argues, knowingly. "just stand and walk to me for one second."

"no."

"no?!"

"no, i don't want to."

"don't want to or you can't?" he accuses, face falling along with his arms. he moves to sit at the edge of the bed beside your legs, resting a hand over your uninjured one. "why can't you get up?" he asks, this time a tad more serious.

"i don't feel like it, satoru, god," you murmur in annoyance, growing agitated with his swiftness to notice that something is wrong.

"don't 'satoru' me, baby, you're the one not telling the truth," he says. "what's wrong with your legs?"

"nothing."

"then stand up."

"no, satoru. stop telling me to stand."

"i will if you tell me what's wrong."

"nothing's wrong!" you shrug harshly, crossing your arms and suddenly taking interest in whatever is outside of the bedroom window. satoru stares at you intently for a moment then back down at your covered legs.

he gazes harshly between the two, pondering, before reaching over to rip the comforter upward to reveal your bare feet. you gasp slightly, jerking to stop him, when your swollen ankle is revealed.

his brows immediately angle and he leans to hastily look over it. "(y/n), what the hell?! what happened to your foot?"

you grow embarrassed suddenly, moving to brush his hands away. "it's not that bad, stop," you say, going to move your leg to the side when you hiss sharply.

"not that bad? baby, your ankle's the size of a golfball!"

"satoru, you're being dramatic."

"what happened?" he asks, concerned. "did this happen while I was gone?"

"it's fine, relax."

"(y/n)," satoru begins sternly. you can tell that you've pinched a nerve. "i'm about to lose it if you don't tell me how this happened and why you were trying to hide it from me."

you frown. "But-"

"Now."

you hug your arms around yourself with another meek shrug. "it's humiliating..." you murmur.

satoru softens slightly. "baby, humiliating? i'm worried about you getting hurt."

"yeah, but-" you sigh and close your eyes, your emotions suddenly getting the best of you. you hate feeling small and weak, as though you can't handle yourself, and you swear every time you injure yourself or get sick, it's the worst possible thing that could happen in the entire world. "i don't know. whatever."

"uh uh uh," your white-haired boyfriend tuts, leaning over the smooth his hand over your leg comfortingly. "it's not 'whatever.' i know exactly how you are. you can't fool me. is this about your mission tomorrow?"

"it's not just about the mission, toru, i just don't- i hate it when i can't do stuff on my own."

"you don't have to tell me something i'm already well aware of." you give him a look. "don't look at me like that. i know you like the back of my hand, and i especially know when you're uncomfortable."

"i get it, toru," you frown.

"why the attitude, hm?" he asks, leaning over to prop his elbow on the other side of you, his body resting against your lap as he peers up at you gently. "it's okay to get hurt- well, no, it's not okay for you to get hurt because it makes me wanna die, but you get what I mean."

your lips twitch in amusement momentarily, leading satoru to grin widely.

"there's that pretty smile."

"it's just-" you huff. "it was such a stupid thing... i rolled my ankle stepping down from closing the cabinets and when it started getting worse, i thought it was so dumb that something so small did that to me so i left it alone. now it's probably twisted, and i just feel really..."

"you're not weak," satoru interjects urgently. "if that's what you're saying, which i'm pretty sure you are. you're far from what i would call weak."

"still. it still made me feel weak. and i'm supposed to go on that mission tomorrow, and i don't know what the hell i'm gonna tell yaga-"

"forget the mission."

"...satoru, i can't just-"

"you can and you will. you have an injury, baby. you can't walk. it's okay, i'll talk to yaga and he'll get someone else on the assignment while I take care of you."

"but the fact that you even have to do that because i was clumsy!" you shake your head and look down. "it's so ridiculous. and i knew you were gonna worry..."

"of course i'm gonna worry, (y/n). no less than you'd worry for me."

"but you're you."

"so? do you worry for me any less because of that?"

"i mean... i know you're always gonna be fine, but... yeah, i guess."

"you guess?" satoru scoffs. "to think, my girlfriend doesn't care about me..."

"oh shut up," you nudge his head away. his grin remains, face turning back to you as he captures you in his soft gaze. "obviously I worry."

"then, there you go," satoru says. his free hand runs over your hip. "i know you can handle yourself just fine and that you're strong as hell, but whether you're going on a mission or stubbing your toe, I'm worrying 'cause i love you."

you pout slightly. "I love you too."

"i know," he beams, kissing your thigh. "so stop with that. as if you'd ever be weak for getting a little boo boo."

"yeah, but now you're not gonna let me do anything," you whine.

"is there really such a big problem with that?" satoru smirks. "try hiding an injury from me again, and you really won't be able to do anything. now let me see."

he pushes himself up to round the edge of the bed. he kneels down and cradles your foot in his hand delicately, fingers grazing the area of swelling. his brow angles. "can you move it?"

you shake your head slowly. "not without it hurting."

"in all seriousness, baby, you need to take better care of yourself. why didn't you ice it?"

"...i wanted it to go away."

"and you walked up the stairs after rolling your ankle?!"

"i wanted to get into bed!"

satoru lowers his head. "what am i gonna do with you? you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

"it's really not that serious. i just need to rest it a bit and then I'll be fine-"

"i'm gonna go cook you some dinner, okay? then we can eat in bed and cuddle, and then I'll run you a hot bath later."

"satoru, i just said it's not that serious! please don't go burning down the house because of my ankle. we can literally still order food," you try to convince him, but the blue-eyed man is already on his feet, by your side, and kissing your lips.

"not another word. you're practically dying, now, i have to look after you."

"toru-"

"i'll be right back, i'm gonna grab you some ice and a pillow for your foot."

"satoru!"

but when you call him, he's already zooming out of the room and down the stairs. you sigh and plop your head back against the headboard with a soft smile. as humiliating as you find it to be injured, you can never say that gojo doesn't do everything he can, if not excessively more, to look after you when you are.

suguru geto: (cold!)

shit.

you step into the bathroom for the umpteenth time today to blow your nose, clearing your searing throat as you do so with a groan.

something in you knew this morning that you were coming down with a cold when you woke up to that dreadful scratch in the back of your throat, but the idea of getting sick physically ails you more than actually being sick does.

you're far too busy today to be weighed down by some common cold. you're in between meetings at work as you toss another tissue into the women's trash. You have paperwork to finish filling out by midnight, and you have to pick up the girls later from daycare.

how can you be sick of all things?

you know it's likely because you run yourself ragged more often than you need to, and suguru always tells you to slow down and take a breath, but you rarely listen to him. your life moves at a quick pace, constantly on the run from one task to the next, and you truly do not feel that you have the leisure of giving yourself one second to rest.

you're on the verge of earning a new promotion, and you need the money. you need the opportunities, and the accomplishments to care for the family you've built with geto. just as suguru works tirelessly to manage his cult, you work tirelessly to keep a living for yourself.

you're proud of the work you have done, truly you are, but at times it feels as though you are amounting to nothing, chasing promises of a higher position that have yet to come. despite the haziness of the path ahead, you push harder and harder each day.

suguru hates it, how you drive yourself to the brink of insanity day in and day out, but you can't help but be an overachiever. you can't help but work hard for those who may not even deserve it.

and now, of course, you're sick. you can feel your temperature spiking, your nose is stuffy, and your head is pounding. you want to go home and curl into bed, but you have responsibilities to fulfill. just a few more hours... then you're home with geto, with the girls, safe in bed just to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.

you jump when your phone suddenly rings in your pocket. you pull it out to see your boyfriend's contact, and you straighten yourself up as best as you can to make it sound as though you aren't struggling to breathe through your nostrils.

"hello?"

"hey, babe, how's work going?" suguru's soothing voice echoes through the phone and you sigh, clinging to the comfort his tone provides. you miss him. you want to go home already.

"it's good," you lie. "i have a few more meetings. then some paperwork to finish, but I'll be able to get mimi and nana on time."

"actually, i called to tell you not to worry about that. i got finished up here with the group pretty early, so i'll be able to get them later."

you're relieved that you won't have to expose the girls to your germs in the car. "okay, thanks for letting me know. you need me to pick up some food on the way home?"

"no, we're gonna make pizzas later. the girls have been dying to try it making it from scratch forever, so i'll take them to the store once i get them."

"...oh. okay..." you nod. "there's nothing else you need me to do then?"

"just to come home in one piece," suguru says. "i'm trying to take some stuff off your plate, (y/n). you've been exhausted, and you can't tell me otherwise."

"sugu, I'm fine," you dismiss him, only to turn your head into your elbow to muffle a cough. you forget to mute the call when you do so.

"what was that? are you okay?" the dark-haired man questions quickly. "you're not sick, are you?"

"no, no," you deny fast, voice slightly hoarse. you clear your throat quickly. "something was just- stuck in my throat. but I'm fine. i'm not sick."

suguru's quiet for a moment, and you chew on the inside of your lip while you wait for him to respond. you know it's impossible to fool suguru, especially when it comes to matters regarding you or the girls, but you can't handle him worrying over you right now. his concerns would only bring you back to reality, pulling you from this cycle of overworking you've fallen into. you need to keep going. You can't stop, and if suguru knows you're sick, he will make you stop.

"suguru? you there?" you finally say.

"oh yeah, i'm here," he responds rather quickly, and you internally curse yourself. "what time do you get off?"

"uhhh..." you think about it for a moment. it's 3:30 now, and technically you only have an hour and a half left, but since the girls will be picked up by Suguru, you realize you can finish your paperwork in the office. "today's kind of a long day... so I probably won't be home until... 7?"

"(Y/n)."

"i know, i know, but listen, i just have to finish up this paperwork. that's all."

"weren't you just gonna do it at home?"

"well, yeah, but since you're getting the girls, it's kinda easier for me to finish it here..." you start mumbling lowly, knowing that whatever explanation you give is not one that suguru will willingly accept.

"babe, please just come home at a normal time today. you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"i promise it won't be past 7. i swear. just let me get this done, and I'll be home."

suguru releases a hefty sigh, and you can picture him rubbing his thumb against his forehead in stress. "7 o'clock, (y/n). i mean it. if you're so much as five minutes late, i'm coming over there myself with rainbow dragon."

you chuckle softly. "i promise it won't get to that. i'll be fine, alright? i'll text you when I'm headed out."

"okay. I'll see you in a bit."

after your meetings had ended, your cold symptoms grew worse. your coughs were more frequent, a pile of tissues were stacked at your cubicle, and the glare of your computer screen felt as though it was burning a hole into your already aching head.

you feel miserable, and as luck would have it, your boss placed a new stack of papers onto your desk to finish filling out before you went home on his way out of the door.

you're alone in the office now, surrounded by excess assignments, and you can hardly breathe through your nose. you check the time, and its thirty to the time you told suguru you'd be home. you groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

you're tired. your bones are aching. you want to be with the girls, you want to be home, you don't want to do this anymore. you're so burned out, it hurts, and you want to cry and collapse face-first onto your desk at the same time.

just then, your phone lights up with a message from suguru. you open it eagerly to be greeted with an image of the girls beaming up at the camera in the kitchen, hands covered in tomato sauce as they display them to the phone. beneath the photo, suguru types.

we miss you :(

you break, placing your phone down and shielding your face in your hands as the tears flow. god, you miss spending time with them. you're hardly home anymore because you've been so busy with work, and you're yearning to be held by your boyfriend, to hear the girls laugh, to sink into the bed combined with your deteriorating physical state makes you feel worse.

you miss having a life.

you don't know how long you spend crying in your empty office before your body shuts down on you completely. the energy you exerted shedding tears in addition to your long days at work send you into a deep sleep. before you know it, you're knocked out with your cheek pressed against one of your unfinished papers.

the second you failed to answer Suguru's text, he knew something was wrong. he calls, and calls, and calls after twenty minutes, but you don't answer. He wastes absolutely no time in calling up manami to look after the girls before trekking out of the house to you with rainbow dragon, just as he promised.

he's prepared to break a window when he sees the janitor leaving the building. he takes the opportunity to swoop in through the doors after grumbling something about his girlfriend being inside, before making his way up to you.

when he reaches your office, he finds you lying in the only occupied cubicle. His eyes go wide as he studies your slumped figure, walking slowly to where you're seated. he notes the tissues and cough drop wrappers crowding your space, then the tears that coat your lashes when he kneels down.

"jesus, (y/n)," he murmurs, swiftly getting to work and clearing your desk of all your trash. when he's done, he crouches by you again and runs a hand over your back. "baby, wake up for me. come on," he coaxes softly.

you stir, face tightening in discomfort. suguru sees the bags under your eyes and his frown deepens. Eventually, you wake with furrowed brows, adjusting your blurry eyes to the sight of suguru gazing down at you worriedly.

"sugu...?" you mumble weakly, only to be interrupted by a few coughs that rack your chest. suguru's heart aches.

"i knew it," he sighs, eyes hardening as his hand strokes over your warm forehead. "why don't you listen?"

"what are you doing here?" you grumble, picking your head up slowly. you're greeted with a retched reminder of your headache, and you wince, pressing your hand to your head.

"we had an agreement, remember?" he reminds you, and you slowly recall. you move to grab your phone and the time reads 7:15. "i wasn't joking."

"suguru..."

"stop," he immediately cuts you off. "look at you, (y/n). you've made yourself sick."

"it's just a- a cough," you murmur, rubbing your irritated eyes harshly.

"that's bullshit, baby," he tells you rather firmly. "i don't know why you're trying to hide this from me when i knew something like this would happen. we're going home."

"no, wait, Suguru, i didn't finish my paperwork yet."

"do you think I give two shits about your paperwork?"

his tone comes off rather harshly, and both of you notice. he blinks his eyes tensely and readjusts himself, attempting to reel in his anger. his anger for you, over your lack of care for your wellbeing, at your fucking boss for letting you work yourself like this.

"you've been killing yourself for weeks, (y/n). i won't let you anymore. this is the last straw."

"hold on," you urge. suguru looks down at you, befuddled. "i really can't just up and leave my work behind like this. I'm sorry, I can't."

"what's more important to you, (y/n)? being healthy or working yourself to death?" he proposes, almost pained by the latter. "if you cared about your well-being, you would have asked for an extension or at least had a conversation with your dick of a boss about doing this another time. anyone can see that you aren't feeling well, and someone who cares will tell you that enough is enough."

"don't make me do this, suguru," you whimper. suguru's face relaxes when he sees your eyes glossing over. "don't make me stop. I can't stop."

"baby," he curls his brows, holding your cheek in his hand as he kneels before you. "why are you doing this to yourself?"

"b-because, I have to..."

"no, you don't. i've been telling you this for years, you don't have to do this."

"but I need to make something of myself. i have to keep going. i can't just quit, because if I do, then what will any of this have meant? why have i been doing this?"

"you're breaking my heart, baby," suguru exhales. "this job doesn't define you. i see how hardworking, smart, and strong you are. i see the effort you put into everything you do. i see the commitment in your heart. i see it everywhere, all the time, and that is one of many reasons why i love you so much."

your lips wobble as you look into his hazel eyes as his voice and words melt you into his palm. you've been moving so fast all this time, you've been trying to prevent yourself from falling into suguru's warmth, which has always had the power to make you do anything he says.

"but I can't stand to watch you make yourself sick because you think there's more you need to do. this isn't good for you. you know it isn't."

you nod, red nose flaring as you sniff. "i know," you admit.

"so please, please take a break. i'm literally begging you. you need to come home and rest. i'll take care of everything else, just come home. lay down. come back to us. to me."

your shoulders jerk as a few tears drop from your eyes. "sugu, i can't do this anymore," you finally give in. "i don't even feel like myself. i just want to go home."

"then let's go baby, come on," he stands and takes you with him in his arms, pressing your body to his as he holds you. you sink into him, your exhaustion and your sickness finally crashing down over you. "i'm gonna fucking kill your boss," he murmurs into your hair.

you laugh weakly against him, closing your eyes. "later. just take me home, now. please."

"yes ma'am," he nods, kneeling down to pick you up into his arms. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest.

"m'gonna get you sick," you mutter.

"we can be sick together," he chuckles. "the girls and I can make you some soup. they've been obsessed with cooking lately," he says, leaning over to shut off your monitor before carrying you off to the elevators.

"that picture of them you sent earlier made me so sad. I miss you guys so much."

"i'm sorry baby, i didn't mean to upset you that much. i was only trying to guilt you a little into coming home early."

you slap his shoulder pathetically. "asshole."

"i know, i'm sorry," he kisses your head. "gonna get you all better in no time."

kento nanami: (low iron!)

you have always been a little anemic, and of course that never really posed as a terrible challenge for you until you ran out of iron supplements.

it is your responsibility undoubtedly to keep track of when you run out and when you need to restock, but recently, you've found yourself neglecting the habit.

you never did like taking iron pills, or any supplements for that matter. you feel as though they take too much out of your daily life, as though they're a burden to your existence, and the harder you think about it, the less inclined you are to keep track of it.

it's been about three weeks since you last took your iron, and while you would like to say that you have improved significantly, you would be lying.

perhaps the first few days of not taking your supplements was fine, but as time droned on, the symptoms kicked back in rather quickly. you are extremely tired all the time, you feel lighter on your feet as if you are going to pass out at any given moment, and your hands and feet are ridiculously cold though it is now the summertime, and the weather outside thoroughly contrasts your body temperature.

you're in denial about the changes, of course. you want to be able to feel fine without the crutch of your pills, but the reality of the situation is that you don't, and it's crushing you for some reason.

what's crushing you more is that you know how disappointed nanami will be to find out that you haven't been being responsible in stocking up on your supplements. he would normally keep track of when you run out in addition to you, but he's reeled it in a bit over the past few months because you wanted him to trust that you can handle taking care of something that you've managed all of your life, so he did.

and yet, here you are, trying to hide the symptoms of your iron deficiency that are only proving harder to veil. nanami has already asked you a few times if you are feeling okay over the past few weeks, therefore you know that he suspects exactly what is happening, but you brush him off each time.

"i'm good, honey," you'd tell him. "just had a long day. what about you? how are you feeling?"

you feel like shit lying to him, but you're afraid of being truthful for some reason. he would scold you, and you'd have to resort to the aid of your only weakness all over again.

god, why can't you just be normal?

you've even tried to ween off of the strict iron-sufficient diet that you've been on practically all your life because you feel like you have something to prove, especially in this world of jujutsu. how can you be a sorcerer with low iron? how can something so smell render you so weak? it's pathetic.

you don't want to think about it, in truth. you want it all to just go away. you want to be fine, to feel fine without eating certain things constantly or taking those damn pills, and you try to force yourself to, but it only grows worse the longer you hide it.

you stumble into your home after a long day of teaching and press your back to the door with a sigh. you know nanami won't be home for another forty or so minutes, so you kick your shoes off, go grab a water, and plop down on the couch.

you feel so tired. you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, leaning back. this is stupid, you think. you're being stupid. just reorder the damn pills.

but something stubborn within you refuses. something within you that must prove you can push past this.

you decide to watch some tv to distract you as you wait for nanami to return home. he suggested cooking for you tonight, so you rest until you hear him walking through the door.

"hi honey," he greets. you turn to smile gently at him as he rounds the corner. your cheeks pinch with happiness, your current turmoil momentarily forgotten when you see your husband approach. you go to stand and walk into his open arms, just like you normally do when he comes home.

you put the remote to the side and shoot up. your mind is occupied only by nanami as you move toward him, but you see his face drop and your vision turns upside down, and suddenly, you're falling.

kento is quick to react, ducking down impressively to catch you in his arms before you can hit the ground. you collapse into him, head dizzy and breath suddenly gone.

"sweetheart?! (y/n) are you alright? are you awake?"

you groan, shifting in his strong arms as they cradle you securely. when your vision regains focus, you're staring up at nanami's worried face, your body resting over his lap. you blink rapidly before realizing what just happened.

"oh shit," you whisper.

"(y/n)," nanami says your name again, caressing your cheek sweetly. "are you here with me now?"

"y-yeah," you nod, moving to sit up and press your hand to his chest. "i'm alright."

"absolutely not," he stops you immediately, pressing against you to lay you back down on his lip. you frown, looking up at him. "don't even try sitting up like that right now."

"kento," you start, growing worried by the tense look on his face. "i'm okay, really. i just sat up too fast."

"i know," he affirms, his thumb still smoothing over your skin. "and care to tell me why that alone is making you pass out?"

you can't find the words to respond as you stare at him, likely as guiltily as you feel. he hums knowingly.

"right," he sighs. "(y/n), how long has it been since you've taken your iron?"

and there it is. the very question you had been dreading.

"...i'm not sure what you're-"

"don't. really, don't," he interjects firmly and you shiver, rather unfamiliar with this side of your doting partner. "i'm still trying to adjust to the fact that you haven't been truthful with me. the least you can do is tell me how long it's been."

your heart drops. "kento..."

"i'm not in the mood for stalling, sweetheart. go on. out with it."

the sternness of his voice hardly matches the way he is holding you and stroking your cheek, but nevertheless, you feel awful. you avert your gaze and shrink into yourself. "three weeks."

"three?" he repeats incredulously, and you nod in shame. "i knew it had been over a week, but three, (y/n)?"

"i know," you mutter.

"why? after you told me not to check after you, to trust that you'd take care of yourself," nanami questions. "this is why i tried to help you. i know it can be a hassle sometimes, and forgetting is one thing, but to deliberately stop taking them when you know how much i worry about it... when you know how important it is for you?"

you bite hard on your lip and look away, brows curling. nanami notices immediately and softens himself, leaning down closer to you.

"my love," he starts. "i don't mean to upset you, but this is very upsetting to me."

"i know. i know, i'm sorry..." you whimper.

"but not because it's about me, (y/n), because it's about you. and you've been hiding this from me, of all things. i don't understand."

"i just didn't wanna take them anymore, ken," you say quietly.

the blonde furrows his brows. "you didn't want to take them? have you not been taking them for years?"

"i have but that's the problem. i'm a sorcerer now, and..." you exhale. "the point of being a sorcerer is to not have anything weighing you down, and this weighs me down."

"if anything, (y/n), not taking the supplements weighs you down more."

"no, i just mean- all of it, the whole iron deficiency, i hate it," you confess. "i'm tired of relying on something to be strong. i'm tired of being tied down to this. i wanted to see if i could overcome it, but i can't. i'll always have this problem, and it sucks, ken," you ramble. "if i could go without taking these pills and still do my job like i always have, then just maybe.... maybe i could be better. and i could prove that i... i don't need those stupid pills, or the extra greens, or the- whatever. just all of it."

nanami looks down at you rather sadly. "i had no idea you felt this way."

"i haven't always felt this way. it's just lately, i don't know, i feel pressured to go beyond."

"darling, your iron-deficiency doesn't make you any less talented than other sorcerers."

"i know. i mean, i should know, but i can't help but feel that way."

nanami presses his lips together, smoothing a knuckle over your cheekbone. "i'm sorry you feel like this."

"it's not your fault, ken. and i shouldn't have kept this from you, i know. i'm sorry. i just felt humiliated by it."

"there's nothing for you to be humiliated by," he reassures you. "your deficiency is no different from any of us having to feed ourselves or drink water in between missions to keep ourselves alive. it's a necessity, and though we are sorcerers, we live off of necessities to keep ourselves physically and mentally able to work. you have a responsibility to yourself. just like the rest of us. just because your iron's a little lower doesn't mean anything about who you are as a sorcerer."

"...i never thought of it like that. i've just been thinking of it as a burden."

"it's only a burden if you view it that way. you are a grade one sorcerer who i have watched climb the ranks effortlessly since we were in high school, all the while with an iron deficiency that you have always taken supplements for. that never stopped you," he says. "the problem comes in when you don't keep up with yourself and take care of those needs. just like how i'd be unable to work if i decided to skip my last few meals and drink less water."

"that makes sense," you mumble, capturing his soft brown eyes with yours.

"good," he nods. "(y/n) you can't neglect your needs like this."

"i know."

"i'm being serious. i'll start checking behind you again if i find out that you're not doing what you need to do to take care of your body."

"i know, ken, i'm sorry, i-" you stop yourself and shake your head. "i just let my insecurities get the best of me."

"then, let me handle taking care of your insecurities. you handle taking your supplements. do we have an agreement?"

you nod slowly. "yeah. we do. i'm sorry for lying again, ken."

"please don't do it again," he sighs, ducking to kiss your forehead. "but i know you wouldn't lie to me about anything else, and that you hiding this was solely out of fear."

you slowly move to sit up, and this time, kento helps you very gradually. he guides you back to sit on the couch and cups your face gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "i'll go order some more iron and then get started on dinner. alright?"

you hum with a soft smile. "alright. i love you, ken."

he returns your loving smile. "i love you more, sweetheart."

choso kamo: (broken finger!)

it had fully been an accident.

you should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and at the same time, so should have panda.

it really was an honest mistake. you were standing in the doorway as everyone left the classroom, your fingers clutched around the frame as everyone filed out. you were asking around if anyone had seen your boyfriend, and yuta mentioned that he saw him with yuji earlier that day.

you thanked him, and just as you were about to pull your hand away, panda, who was the last out of the room, slammed the door shut behind him thinking you had already moved out of the way.

but you hadn't.

the door flew into your index and middle fingers and you screamed bloody murder. the cursed corpse as well as his classmates whipped their heads around, and to panda's horror, you were knocking your forehead against the wall with tears in your eyes as your fingers trembled in the doorframe.

"(Y/N), HOLY SHIT I'M SO SORRY!"

you hadn't expected panda to actually break one of your fingers, but you give the freak credit for his unnatural strength. you later find out that yuji and choso had gone out to grab food for you when you see a text from your boyfriend pop up asking what flavor ramen you want the second you learn that shoko will not be available until late tonight.

for the time being, you're given a finger splint and pain medicine as though you aren't freaking surrounded by jujutsu sorcery.

and god, did it hurt! like, really, really hurt. your fingers are throbbing, and the one that isn't broken is bruised and stained with some blood. you wish you could be angrier at panda, but his groveling before your feet on his knees eases your frustration a bit. after all, it hadn't been on purpose.

you're sent home and you are given no choice but to wait until choso returns, and you're... nervous. choso never handles the ailment of his loved ones very well. his spiritual and physical connection to his brothers wellbeings' often causes him to lose his mind every time yuji gets accidentally punched in the face during training, and when it comes to you? well, choso is just the same if not somehow worse.

you remember one time you got a papercut and winced when your finger made contact with soap. choso was quick to your side, grasping your wrist and looking over your hand as though it had been severed off.

one thing you have come to know in your relationship with the brunette is that he would (and has) killed someone for the sake of the people closest to him. he does not mess around when it comes to his family, and he certainly doesn't mess around when it comes to you.

and while you think he can be a bit excessive with making sure you're alright when it's hardly necessary, it's first and foremost endearing, and it only makes you realize that he will go ballistic the second he finds out that someone broke your finger.

he doesn't naively think that you can never go unharmed, though he would be incredibly content with the notion if it were plausible. he's familiar with scars, wounds, fights, and battles, and he knows you're in the very center of it just as much as he and his brother are. but still, he hates it when you're hurt. he wants to protect you as best as he can, or to at least prevent you from suffering any more than a sorcerer already has to suffer. he only wants you to be safe.

so to prevent him from having a heart attack, you decide it's better if he doesn't know about the incident. when you answer his texts before heading home, you mention nothing about your poor finger in hopes of him not finding out at least until after you're healed.

that plan of yours, however, fails when choso comes barging through the door three hours earlier than you expected him to return. your eyes go wide from where you sit on the couch, and you have no time to even go to hide your fingers behind your back when choso marches up to you, agitated.

"uh-" you're cut off when he grabs your arm gently and lifts it into the air, your taped crooked finger showcasing itself to him. you press your lips together at how poorly the plan to conceal this from him has failed. "cho-"

"were you gonna tell me about this?" his violet eyes fly to yours in a fury, and you're almost stunned by how aggravated he looks. his voice is calm, low, but his face is wrecked with concern and almost betrayal.

"...i was, but i wanted to wait because i didn't want you to freak out..." you say slowly, watching him softly. "like you are now..?"

"that's not fair, (y/n)," he frowns and you furrow your brows. "that's not fair at all."

"woah, hold on... are you mad at me?"

"i don't know," he answers you honestly, looking between your face and your trembling hand. "i'm... upset."

"who told you about my fingers, love?"

"yuji got a text from yuta," he tells you, moving to sit down on the space beside you with your hand still cradled in his. "he said that panda was begging me not to kill him, and this was after i had talked to you."

"oh..." you sigh. "okay, yeah, i can see how that looks."

"why didn't you tell me you got hurt? and pretty badly too? where's ieiri?"

"she won't be back on campus for another hour," you explain. "i didn't want you to worry, cho, i figured i'd just tell you after it was better, but..."

"why would you try to hide something from me?" he asks you, suddenly sounding hurt. it's clear on his face that he doesn't understand why you would conceal something as important as your health from him, whether it was small or not. you tell each other everything, and that shouldn't have stopped now of all times because you don't want him to worry.

"i didn't know you'd get so upset, cho, honestly," you tell him. "i-" you stop when a sharp pain shoots through your fingers and you gasp. choso's face drops and he gently sets your hand down to his lap, panicked.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes. "shit, you must be in a lot of pain."

"it's nothing i haven't experienced before," you try to reassure him, giving him a tight smile.

"why does that matter?" choso drags his brows together. "pain is pain. i don't like when you feel any of it."

you melt. "i know. i know you don't, i don't like when you feel any of it either."

"so don't... keep stuff like this from me, (y/n)," he says sternly. "please, i need to know. i don't have the same connection to you that i have with my blood brothers, but i'm still connected to you all the same. when you hurt, i hurt."

"i get it cho, i'm sorry," you nod bashfully. "i wasn't trying to make you mad. i just don't like it when you're stressed out."

"i'm always stressed out," he says flatly, and you raise your brows with a halfhearted smile.

"yeah, i know. so why stress you even more?"

"i'd rather be stressed about you if i'm stressing about anything," he says, looking over your face as the hardness in his gaze washes away. "you know you're everything to me."

"i know, baby," you push out your bottom lip, pressing your free hand to the side of his cheek and leaning in to kiss him. his ears burn when you pull away, and he sighs heavily.

"don't offend me by trying to hide stuff like this. it won't work."

"i'm sorryyyy," you giggle and choso grumbles incoherently under his breath.

his gaze goes back to your fingers and his brows curl. "how the hell do you slam a door on someone's hand?" he hisses.

"it was an accident, cho, he didn't mean it."

"i know, and i shouldn't really be angry at him but i can't help but be irritated because you're hurt..." his fingers graze the tape. "how bad does it hurt?"

"cho, it'll be okay."

"that wasn't my question."

you roll your eyes at his attitude with a soft smile. "it hurts as much as a broken finger would."

"right. sorry," he murmurs.

"you're okay, love, you don't need to apologize."

"i still wish i- nevermind," he refrains himself from discussing how he wanted to be there to protect you from such an unpredictable occurence. "is there anything i can do to help you feel better while we wait? do you need anything?"

"ummm," you try to think. "actually, could you grab a new pack of ice from the freezer? and... the snacks you got me earlier."

the brunette's face brightens slightly with the thought that he can do something to help ease your pain as you wait for shoko to return to the school.

he nods in determination, carefully sliding your hand into your lap and kissing your cheek before hopping up to run to the kitchen. he returns with the items you requested, placing the snacks down beside him and lifting the bag of ice over your hand.

"like this?" he eases the bag down and you wince, nodding.

"mhm. yeah," you strain out. choso watches your face sadly, hating the fact that you're hurting.

"i'm sorry for getting upset," he mumbles. you turn to look at him curiously. "i just love you a lot."

"i love you more, cho," you smile gently, leaning your head against his shoulder. he sighs, resting his chin atop your head as he ices your hand. "and don't worry, i get it. i won't try to hide injuries from you anymore."

"i really hope so."

"now can you pass me those chips please?"

toji fushiguro: (knife cut!)

toji is going to absolutely kill you, and you are dreading the moment he does.

he has always told you not to touch his weapons. even if you see any of them lying around his place because he never bothers to clean up in between jobs. his one rule when you're over is to leave them alone and to let him handle them when he gets back. he doesn't care how much you protest, he doesn't care that you want to help him pick up after himself.

no touching. that is all he asks of you.

and of course... one afternoon when he's out sorting out some finances with shiu and one of his knives is glaring at you from where it lay on the kitchen table, you can't help yourself.

you don't really think anything is going to happen. after all, you're not a baby, nor are you an idiot. you know how to handle a freaking knife and you know where to put it, and yet, somehow, you allow your arrogance with the task to distract you. you're not handling it as carefully as you should be, and the second you hear the keys jingling outside the front door, you panic.

the blade, naturally, fumbles in your grasp, and swipes through the air, over your palm, and to the carpet. you jump, stepping away as quickly as it falls. you feel a sting in your hand and look down to see the fresh gash stretching over your skin. you gape as blood slowly simmers from the wound, befuddled as to how something like this even happened so quickly.

you have no time to clean it when you hear the key inside the lock. you hurriedly pick up the knife with your unwounded hand, place it back on the table where you first saw it, rip a napkin from said table to press to your bleeding palm, and clench it into a fist just as the door opens.

toji immediately greets you with a raised brow, jade eyes eying you oddly as he steps in. "the hell are you gettin' into?" he asks, confused by the way you are standing against the wall when he enters.

you're quick to move into his space to distract him from the vision of his knife and from looking any further downward from your face. you lean up on your tiptoes, normal hand on his forearm as you kiss his scarred lips. "what do you mean?"

"why were you just standing there like that?"

"can't I wait by the door for you to come back?" you bat your eyelashes, and toji grunts, gazing down at you with lidded eyes as his hand comes around the small of your back. "i'm just happy to see you."

"you take a pill or somethin', doll?"

you glare at him. "now why would you ask me that?"

"you're just acting a little too nice, that's all."

you scoff. "i don't know what you're talking about, i'm literally always happy to see you."

"yeah, but i was gone for thirty minutes and you never make a show of it like this."

"why are you making it sound like i don't show you love? you're the one who's mean all the time," you retort sassily.

a smirk captures toji's lips as he ducks down to kiss you again. "that's more like it," he murmurs against you. "still ain't answer my question though."

"i literally did. i told you i was waiting for you."

"sure," he says, unconvinced. his eyes drag down your body and momentarily go to your fist when you swiftly wrap both arms around his neck, pulling him down to crash your lips into him once more.

his brows narrow and as you kiss him, and you can feel the blood on your hand seeping through your napkin. you curse internally, lowering your hand back down behind him as he pulls away.

"not that i'm against this," toji starts, voice dangerously low against your mouth. "but it feels like you're tryin' to distract me from something."

"why would i be doing that?" you ask gently, looking up into his piercing eyes. he hums, dragging himself away from you. he grabs your chin softly and tilts your head left and right, looking over your face. "what are you doing?" you ask.

"lookin' for whatever you're hiding."

"i'm not hiding anything, toji."

"uh huh."

shit. it's never a good sign when toji doesn't even try to pretend to believe anything you're saying, and the way he's looking over your face let's you know that he at least suspects you've done something to yourself that he should know about.

you keep your fist to his back as he looks over the rest of your body with a rather relaxed expression, which only means that he doesn't suspect you touching any of his weapons. yet.

you have to keep his attention away from the knife on the table so that he doesn't figure it out.

"can you stop messing around already? i wanna go take a shower," you try to say, but toji doesn't listen.

"turn around f'me."

"huh?"

"huh?" he mimics you, looking at you unimpressed. "turn."

you suck your teeth. "i hate when you get like this."

"and i hate when you lie, now turn."

you grimance. you can't turn around with him looking down at your hand, and you're sure by now that the napkin you hold is coated red. your eye twitches in that moment when you feel a line of blood drip down your wrist.

god dammit. you're so dead.

nonetheless, you try to keep your palm facing inward as you slip it from his back and turn over your left shoulder, which connects to the uninjured hand. the second your back is to him, you bring your bloody hand in front of you.

"yeah, no," you hear toji gruffly say. your heart hammers in your throat and you know what's coming next. he moves around you to wrap his hand around your wrist and tug at it.

you cringe, allowing yourself to accept your fate when he pulls forward your balled up hand.

"open."

"can't we just-"

"open."

you sigh heavily, slowly peeling open your palm to reveal the red-stained napkin balled in it, the line of blood rushing down your inner arm, and the slice that stretches across your hand.

toji's eyes blow wide, and before he asks you anything, he throws his head over his shoulder to locate the knife that sits on the table. "are you fucking kidding me, (y/n)?" he growls, turning back to face you angrily.

"okay, let's not act like this is so crazy!" you immediately defend, throwing your other arm up. "you leave your shit lying around all the time!"

"and every single time, i tell you that i'll take care of it. what the fuck, do i have to go child-proofing the house now because of you?"

"if you would just be more mindful of how you leave your space, you wouldn't even have to worry about shit like this! you shouldn't even have knives lying around in the first place."

"i'm a grown man, (y/n), i know how to avoid cutting myself with the weapons i use daily."

"you're being a prick."

"oh baby, you must not know me because i'm about to be worse," he grunts, eyes heated with fury, and you frown.

"toji, come onnn, it was an accident."

"what do i always say about my weapons, (y/n)?"

"i just wanted to help you put it away, is that so crazy?"

"what. do i say. about my weapons."

you deflate slightly, uneased by the rate at which toji is growing angry with you. "...not to touch them."

"so why the fuck did you touch them?" he growls, picking up the napkin in your palm and tossing it over his shoulder. he looks over your wound and clenches his jaw. "fucking hell, (y/n)."

"look, i'm sorry."

"shut the hell up and come on."

despite his rage, he leads you to the bathoom with surprising care.

when you arrive, he flicks on the light with his free hand and swipes up a cloth from under the sink. he turns to you, pressing it down to your wound to stop the bleeding. once it seems like it's done, he puts the cloth down and turns on the faucet. "put your hand under," he orders, guiding it to the cool water nonetheless.

the water hits your open wound bitterly and you jump, watching the blood run through the drain as toji washes your arm as well.

"sit," he nods over to the bathtub, shutting off the faucet.

you oblige mutely, shuffling over and holding out your hand. you sit slowly on the ledge of the tub and watch as toji shuffles through his cupboards for a bottle of peroxide, some bandages, and ointment. you dread what is coming, for you know your hand is gonna sting like a bitch.

toji thuds over to sit hunched on the closed toilet lid, leaning over to grab your hand again. you stretch your fingers out and he sighs, shaking his head. "so fucking hard-headed," he murmurs.

you watch him screw open the bottle of liquid.

"go slowly," you plead.

"it's gonna hurt all the same, doll," he tells you, and you pout. "you should listen next time, then maybe you wouldn't have to go through this."

"shut the fuck up."

toji clicks his tongue, glancing at you momentarily before leaning down and holding the bottle over you, grasping your wrist loosely with your hand above his knee. "keep still."

the peroxide comes flooding out of the bottle and onto your hand, bubbling instantly over your gash. you whimper, tensing your body and scrunching your eyes at the sting.

"i know," toji mumbles, smoothing his thumb gently over your wrist. "you're alright."

your fingers dig into your thigh as it continues to burn. toji leans over to put down the bottle and continues to caress your arm, lowering your hand to his lap. he blows over your palm slightly as the peroxide dries, and you eventually open your eyes.

"not so bad," he tells you. he leans himself back to reach for a new cloth then pats it around the gash, drying your hand and your arm. he reaches back again for the tube of almost empty ointment he found and twists it open, squeezing it over your wound. "shit, hold on," he stops. he lets you lift your hand as he rushes to wash his own before coming to sit back down at hold yours on his leg again, now with bandages in hand.

you watch him gently as he works the bandage over you with such attentiveness, a dip in his brow proving his focus. you suddenly feel guilty for making him worry.

"i'm sorry," you finally say again, this time with more meaning.

toji's green eyes snap up at you amidst his wrapping. "yeah?"

"i really was just trying to help you. didn't mean to stress you out."

toji sighs, pausing his movements to look you in the eye. "you need to be more careful. i tell you not to touch my stuff because it's not your responsibility. obviously i know you can yourself, but some of my shit's really dangerous and i don't want you gettin' hurt," he gestures to your hand. "it could've been a lot worse, but still."

"if you don't want me touching your weapons, toji, you should probably clean them up more," you quirk a brow and he exhales loudly.

"i'm seeing that now, yeah," he says. "i'll be more careful if you are. don't need my doll getting a bunch of scars 'cause of me, now."

you smile softly. "yeah. i won't touch your stuff anymore, i promise."

"...how about instead i just... teach you how to handle 'em the right way?"

you perk up. "really?"

"i don't see why not. i'd rather you know how to use some of it than see you scrape yourself up because you don't know how to hold a knife."

"don't be a smartass."

toji smirks, continuing with his wrapping of your hand. "i mean it. i'll sit down with you sometime to show you."

"...how about after we're done here?"

"don't fucking push it."

ryomen sukuna: (fever!)

you wake up in a cold sweat, shivering.

you groan in displeasure, rolling over, slightly discombobulated. it can't be any later than 7 am, but you are boiling hot. you press your hand to your forehead and curse. you're sweating profusely and you feel incredibly lightheaded.

you don't even have the energy to get up, but you know that you need to take your temperature. you shudder, carefully shuffling out of bed and wincing as every brush against your skin feels like the stab of a thousand pins and needles.

you lethargically make your way to your bathroom, the cool air hitting your neck and sending you into a fit of shivers. you cling to yourself, teeth chattering, and reach into your cabinet for a thermometer. with half-open eyes, you pop it under your tongue and make your way back to your bed, bundling up in your blankets and curling into a ball.

it feels like hours before the beep resounds, and you slowly lift it from your mouth to read the little digital numbers.

102.4. perfect.

you shudder in pain, tossing the thermometer to the side and nestling your face in your pillows. you feel like absolute shit, but you can't bring yourself to do much else. you need medicine, water, a cool compress, but none of those things you have access to currently.

you close your eyes as your mind swarms, body throbbing and shuddering with chills though the last thing you need is to be cuddled under the covers. you think maybe it will go away if you get some rest. maybe you just need to relax, to take some time in bed. you'll let sukuna know when-

shit! sukuna.

there's no way in hell or on earth that sukuna will allow you to go untreated if you tell him, but god, you don't feel like letting him know. despite his likely haste to make sure you have everything you need, you can only imagine the snarky comments about your fragility, your strange body, your vulnerability that he''ll spout.

you don't want to hear it. you don't want to hear any of it, because you're sure that if you do, you'll start crying. you're already worn down, clearly, and the last thing you need on top of a fever is your boyfriend joking about your weak state.

you elect to stay in bed and tell sukuna you'll see him another time if he pesters you today.

which of course, he does.

a whirlwind of alarming dreams that you almost thought were hallucinations are disrupted by the persistent buzzing of your phone on your dress. you groan, reaching out a shaky hand to blindly grab the device and answer the call, pressing it to your ear with no knowledge of who you're speaking to.

"yes?" you croak.

"can't answer a telephone call the first time it rings?" sukuna's voice thunders through the mic, and you lift your brows.

"kuna?" you try to say his name normally, despite the constant chatter of your teeth.

"who the hell else would it be?"

"sorry... i was asleep."

"at this hour?"

"...what'dy'mean?"

"jesus, woman, it's 2 in the afternoon. why the hell are you still in bed?"

you reel momentarily at his words. 2 pm? it was just 7 in the morning! have you really been sleeping all this time?

"oh..." is all you can manage to say before a chill wracks your body again. you cringe, curling into yourself and holding the phone away from you.

"oh?" the king of curses repeats. "what is the matter with you?"

"n-nothing," you respond quickly. "i guess i was up late last night. i was c-completely knocked out..." you tremble.

"last night you told me you were going to sleep early because you were tired, you brat."

fuckkkk.

how could you have forgotten about that? you hadn't been feeling well last night, which is likely the reason why you feel so much worse today, so you turned in early. "i- couldn't fall asleep until later, though," you mumble.

"you are attempting to deceive me," sukuna grunts. "care to explain why?"

"m'not, kuna," you sigh halfheartedly.

"what exactly do you take me for?"

you're really not in the mood for this. you're aching at this point, and you can tell your body temperature has only risen. you're so weak. you can barely even process the fact that you're on the phone, and you can't handle sukuna's attitude. not if he's not going to help, which you automatically assume that he won't.

"i'm going back to bed," you say softly.

"what do you mean back to bed?!" sukuna fumes. "seriously, what the hell is the matter with you. you sound ill."

"i'm not i-ill."

"then why do you keep stumbling over your words, woman?" he questions, his voice mellowing out into a steady intensity. "what is it now? your monthly plague? whatever you people call allergies?"

this is exactly why you don't want him to know. he handles these things too crudely, as if it's a burden upon his existence. "y-you ask too many damn questions."

"i wouldn't have to if you answered them. now talk."

"i'm fine, sukuna. i'm just gonna go back to sleep."

"you hang up this phone, i'm at your door in two seconds."

"that's impossible."

"try me."

you know he's serious, but you don't have the energy. you can't stay on the phone with him any longer, trying to speak like nothing's wrong. it's cold. so cold, but you're so hot. you're probably drenched in a pool of your own sweat, but you can't feel it. you want to sleep. you just want him to let you sleep.

your vision grows dizzy as you stare ahead, brows arching in discomfort. you think you press the end call button, but you can still hear his voice picking up in urgency... is he shouting? are you even on the phone anymore? you aren't sure.

your vision suddenly drifts into inky blackness as the phone rests beside you on your pillow. the last thing you are aware of before you slip into unconsciousness again is banging at your front door.

sukuna bursts into your apartment mere minutes after you stopped answering him on the phone. he looks about ready to kill, crimson eyes wide and pupils shrunken as he breathes heavily, looking all over your apartment.

he's stomping to your room and throwing the door open when he sees you laying in the bed. "(y/n)!" he barks, searching for some response from you, but all he recieves or nonsensical murmurs.

he moves quickly to the side of your bed and grabs at your shoulder, turning you over to find your sheets drenched and your face tight with discomfort. he falters, heart jerking at the sight. "...the fuck?"

he presses a hand to your sweat-drenched face and furrows his brows in concern. you're hot. too hot for the temperature of a human being, and you're sweating like crazy, mumbling things under your breath in your sleep he can't even hear.

"the fuck did you do?" he grumbles, starting to internally panic. he scrambles to remember what this could be. he knows of plague, of pestilence, so maybe you're suffering some form of that?

hell, he can't tell. not from a glance. he's not even sure if he knows how to help you. you're entirely too hot for him to brush this off like it's nothing, and you passed out in the middle of speaking to him.

he looks over and sees the thermometer on your sheets and leans over to pick it up. the screen reads a high number, which he assumes is the temperature of your body. curious himself, he prods open your jaw and tucks it into your mouth, pressing the button the way you had shown him when you had the flu to reset the time.

"come the fuck on," he growls as seconds tick by before it beeps, and he pulls it from your lips to read 104.7.

he doesn't know how far it is from your usual temp, but he knows it's high. too high.

he's quick to dial uraume for some more information, and the second he hears that you need immediate medical help, he's picking you up and making a run for it without even thinking that uraume can likely help you.

when you wake, you're blinded by nauseating lights blaring down overhead. "ugh," you groan, feeling light and disoriented. you turn your head to the side and blink, to find sukuna's face staring directly at you rather harshly.

you jump slightly, startled. "what-?" you start, scrunching your eyes to adjust to the sight before you. "sukuna? what are you..." you trail off when you realize that you aren't in your house, nor are you at sukuna's estate. instead, you're in a hospital bed hooked up to a series of fluids.

your eyes go wide as you sit up suddenly, only to be hit with a sudden dizzy spell that sends you leaning back into the bed.

"don't move," he orders, and you turn to him in confusion. never would you have expected to see the day that sukuna sits in a chair beside you in a hospital.

"why are we... what happened?"

"apparently you had a high fever," he answers harshly, fist-propping his chin up over his leg. "too high for you to be seen in my care, and too high for you to be lying in bed as though nothing was wrong."

your heart sinks. "how high?"

"when we got here, tipping past 105."

"...are you serious?"

"i had to come bust down your door to make sure you were alive. i put you on an empty roller downstairs because these fucking dumbass doctors can't see me and i had to get their attention so they could notice you. yes, i am serious."

he sounds pissed. and you hardly want to think of what he means by ‘getting their attention.’

"what do you have to say for yourself? for daring to lie to me? for pretending like you weren't on the brink of a much worse fate?"

"...i..."

"you're so lucky you're unwell, girl, because you don't even want to imagine the things i would do to you as punishment for putting yourself in such a ridiculous situation," he growls. "all you had to do was tell me and i would have taken care of it before it got worse."

you blink, almost dumbfounded. you still aren't all there, but you can tell that your fever has gone down significantly. you're no longer sweating and fewer chills wrack your body. "...huh?"

"did that fucking fever scramble your brain or what?" he fumes, eyeing you sharply. "you should have told me."

you part your lips slightly as you look at him. "honestly, sukuna, i didn't think you'd really... i don't know-"

"care?"

"no, not care. i just didn't think you'd handle it well. i didn't even handle it well myself."

"you believe me to be incapable of tending to sickness?"

"no, i just thought you'd like... not take it seriously."

sukuna's eyes darken, and you realize that you may have said the wrong thing. "in what reality would i fail to take any threat to your health seriously, whether you are frail or not?"

"see, that's what i mean. you always have to slip in something about me being frail."

"because you are. as a member of your species. look at where you lay currently," sukuna grimaces. "that is not an insult to you, it's an observation. it's an insult, however, to everyone else who isn't you."

you relax slightly. "then you were actually worried?"

sukuna scoffs. "why the hell do you think i'm sitting in a human hospital with your sick ass right now? i thought we were past you believing i do not concern myself over you."

you suddenly feel foolish, having forced yourself to suffer in your isolation and simultaneously made sukuna, of all people, worry over you.

"hm. feeling foolish, are you?" he says, reading your mind.

"shut up,," you whine, only to clutch your stomach suddenly with a groan. sukuna sighs as he gently eases your head back onto the pillow.

"i told you not to exert yourself. you give me a headache."

"kuna," you mumble.

"what?"

"can you... take me home?"

sukuna raises a brow. "home?"

"to your place," you clarify. "i don't wanna be here. i just want to be with you. want you to hold me."

"you're such a needy thing," he exhales, toying with a strand of your hair as he leans over and gazes gently at you. "you have medications you need to take."

"then bring them with."

"and if you get sick again? you've only been here ten hours."

"ten?!" you exclaim.

"you were very ill, (y/n)."

you groan. "ten is long enough. i hate hospitals. take me home. i feel better anyway, and if i get worse, i’ll just go to uraume."

sukuna sighs, standing slowly. "after i get these tubes out of you without further damaging you, i will take you home," he says, looking over the IVs that you're hooked up to.

you close your eyes tiredly and nod in acceptance. "okay," you murmur.

he grunts. "let me find some damn instructions.”

"kuna," your hand weakly reaches out to catch his wrist and he stops, turning to look down at you.

"what is it?"

you open your eyes to look up at him fondly, exhaustion welling in your gaze. "thank you."

the king of curses clenches his jaw. he smoothes ahead over your now warm forehead and leans over you. "don't do some shit like this again."

[tbaluver]

Can you write the guys reaction to having a baby girl as their first child? (I'm a sucker for papa's little princesses)

Thank you and your works are the best and comforting!

Papa's Little Princess- The Love And DeepSpace Men

synopsis: when your first child is a girl! genre: fluff fluff a/n: omg this was such a cute idea i wish they were real (╥﹏╥) and thank you so much! i hope my works can continuing being comforting for you and anybody else <3 i hope this was okay and that you enjoy this! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

His little star

A gentle father. He's the type to never yell at his daughter but he'll provide positive disciplining strategies with you.

He wants to be in every part of his daughter's life in any way he can. He wouldn't really know how to do his daughter's hair but he was willing to try ! He would watch you tie her hair, braid, and put many accessories in her hair and he would be confused on how you did all that. He tried looking up how to do her hair and his first time wasn't the best.....but after some practice with you, he would be a pro just like you!

Do NOT let these two bake together especially with the easy bake ovens. Nearly set the kitchen on fire attempting to make cookies for you. He couldn't say no to her when she wanted to cook or try baking with him. You don't know how but it ended up burnt or with the weirdest toppings ever and a broken easy bake oven.

Nap time is serious business with these two. They are not to be disturbed. She's either asleep on his chest or in his lap. Whenever you take walks and she gets too tired, he'll carry her around on his back. She'll rest her head on the crook of his neck while he holds onto her tightly.

She would have all the plushies, toys, and snacks she wants! He'll do his all to get her the plushies in the claw machine to make his little angel jump up and down in joy. She could never have enough

Loves to join her in her imaginative play whether she wants to be a princess or an astronaut. It makes playtime full of joy and adventure

Zayne:

You two would have the most polite, well mannered, and kindest daughter ever.

Loves to participate in playing house with her. He'll sit on the floor or the tiny chairs from the tea party set you gotten for her. He'll play the role with no complaints and tell her that the tea is delicious even though there is absolutely no tea in the plastic cup.

He's a doctor but he can't help but sneak a few sweet treats for her. If she wants some before lunch or dinner then she can have at least one before she eats her meal and then she'll have plenty more after. These two would have cavities later on.

He would make her all the mini snowmen and other things she wants from his evol. He finds her reaction to be adorable each time, it never gets old.

If your daughter mentions a boy, he would tell her she can have a boyfriend around 30. She would be happy and so was he. Mainly because she has no concept of time and age yet.

Your daughter loves to hear him read. Even though she was still very very young and didn't grasp everything just yet, he would read her stories and explain them with care and patience, aiming to entertain and nurture her curiosity. She loves to sit on his lap and sometimes she'll fall asleep on him.

He would let her pick any flower she wants to grow in your garden at the backyard. You would all start a small garden together and he would teach her how to care for them.

Rafayel:

Takes playing house a little too seriously. Whatever role his daughter gives him, he's giving it his all.

Oh he was so excited when your daughter first held a crayon. He colors with her a lot and eventually will introduce her to paint. He would tell her that she's doing so well even if they were just blobs. She's going to be an artist just like her papa. He'll even add some of her artwork on his so he can point it out to her if he were to have another exhibition tour.

First time at the beach with his daughter was such an emotional day for him. Hearing and seeing her squeal when her little feet touched the water warmed his heart. He held her so tightly and tenderly, reassuring her that she won't float away because her papa's got her. He teaches her a lot about how some fishes are friendly and one day he'll meet some of his fish friends.

He'll eventually tell her all about Lemuria whenever it was time for bed and he thought it's so cute whenever she wanted to hear more about it.

Would absolutely love to play dress up with her. Sometimes he'll pick some of her clothes out and he would think she is beautiful just like her mama. They'll make a little runway and model the outfits.

He would keep all the little milestones she has made and any memories. He'll keep all the photos, drawings, and any mementos to look back at the treasured memories.

Sylus:

The second person who will ever see his soft side is his daughter. You being the first.

He is protective over his daughter and with you. If anyone were to look at either one of you wrong? Sleep with one eye open.

He does not have fragile masculinity! He will let her apply as much toy makeup as she wants on his face. He'll play dress up with her as much as she wants no matter how obscure the outfits are! He has no complaints, anything to make his little angel smile and happy.

She loves hearing him sing lullabies. It puts her to sleep immediately but sometimes she'll sing or hum along with him.

If you tell your daughter no to something then she'll ask Sylus. He can't say no to his sweet baby girl. Just don't tell mom. He doesn't know what true fear is until he meets a mothers anger.

Loves to spoil her just like how he loves to spoil you. Not to the point where she's a brat though, you two would teach her to be better than that. "Just because" gifts to make her feel special without any special occasions

Anytime he would be away for business, he'll always bring you two something back. Something that you both either love or reminds him of you two or maybe both.

BONUS (All): They would all be patient fathers overall. They would never yell if your daughter showed any emotions especially if their daughters were to cry. They’re offering their own patience, love, and comfort in their own way. They would be there for your daughter emotionally as they were with you.

[poguehearted77]

Lights, Camera, Action!

Summary-> It's your first day on set and your nerves are through the roof but the cast makes you feel at home. You practice your lines, but the sparks between you and Drew are unscripted.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

You're jet-lagged, but your body has no idea. Too distracted from the abundance of nerves pumping through your veins as you walked around the enormous film lot toward the set.

You stand on the edge of the bustling Moroccan set, heart pounding as you clutch your sides. The scarf draped over your head feels both like a costume and a shield, helping you blend into the character you’re about to bring to life. Even with the months of preparation and the script readings under your belt, this moment feels surreal.

Everyone hustled across the set with purpose, knowing exactly what their job was and how to do it. You had only a fraction of that confidence as you were approached by a familiar face, one of the directors, Josh Pate.

"I can sense your anxiety from a mile away." He teases and it pulls a smile and a small breath of relief that he was friendly. With a comforting hand on your shoulders, "Take a deep breath, go grab a muffin from craft, have some water and I'll see you back here for your scene in 20, alright? I don't need any more faintings on the clock."

Once the words process, he's already gone. Fainting?? More??? With dazed eyes, your eyes scan the environment, dozens of people dressed just like you. Some sitting on the sidelines while others got into place on set. You'd even spotted Madelyn off to the side, a make-up artist lightly padding her face to protect it from the lighting as she prepared for her scene.

You took Josh's suggestion seriously, and promptly, or at least you tried to. You had no idea where to find crafts services or even if you'd be able to find your way back. "Craft Services is the first door on your left." Your head whips around with a face of slight terror in your eyes at the mind-reader from behind you. It's JD.

"How did you know?" It's the first thing you say, slight amusement and a hint of awe evident in your voice. He shrugs, "You were either looking for craft or the bathroom. It was a 50/50 shot, to be honest." He laughs and it calms your nerves a little. After a little while and a good conversation with JD, you glanced at the clock on the wall.

It became apparent you didn't have much time left. Quickly you end the conversation and head inside the room he'd directed you to. The studio was warm, credit to the Morrocan heat that surrounded you on the outside.

"Cups, cups, cups.." You mutter to no one in particular as you desperately scan for the item you need. "Here you go," A big hand is outstretched in front of you with a new cup dwarfed in its palm.

Your eyes followed up the length of the arm until they met those famous ocean-blue eyes that owned your TikTok feed for months last fall. Drew. He has the infamous buzz and soft smile as he looks down at you.

"Thank you," It's a simple response but it's the best you can do in a situation like this. Turning away from him, you fill your cup and finish its contents in nearly one sip before tossing it and rushing back to set not wanting to be late.

You rush back to set, still feeling the phantom warmth of Drew’s presence. For a moment, you wonder if this strange mix of tension and excitement is something all new actors feel or if it’s just you. The scarf draped over your head has now become a makeshift security blanket, as much for your nerves as for your character.

Josh greets you with a reassuring thumbs-up as you step into position, the antique shop set sprawling around you with meticulous detail. Dusty shelves lined with ornate trinkets, cracked pottery, and rusted brass figurines fill the space, dimly lit to convey the musty atmosphere of a forgotten bazaar. The air smells faintly of incense, which only adds to the immersion.

As the Pogues enter the set, Madelyn offers you a friendly wink, her playful energy making the tension in your shoulders ease. You remember bumping into her at one of your meetings with the writers. She's as pure as her character and it was relieving to see a friendly face on set.

Chase gives you a nod of encouragement, while Jonathan seems almost shocked to see you, probably since you'd never mentioned who you would be playing. He sends you a motion of acknowledgement anyway and you smile back.

The cameras start rolling, and suddenly, you are no longer you. As though it were a chemical reaction to the words 'Action', your brain switches to the character you've studied for months in anticipation. No longer Y/n, now Piper.

You busy yourself behind the counter. Attending to the tasks that depend on you as the owner of your antique shop. Your focus is set on the vase in your hands as you sweep over its rim with a cloth.

The bell of the shop chimes as six foreigners enter the shop, standing in a crowd with some of the most grim expressions you'd ever seen. "Vases on the left, woodwork on the right. Let me know if you have any questions." The phrase sounds ingenuine as it has only been repeated every day for the last three years.

"We're not here for some fucking pottery-" Rafe claps his hands down on the counter, you don't react. Sarah corrects him, "Rafe." You look back to the bunch, now standing at your full height,

They were filthy, covered in sand, dirt, and essentially any other grime that could find them. "We need supplies." Sarah says and you shrug, "What did you have in mind? Glasses? Lamps? Clocks?" The group lets out a frustrated set of sounds.

Pope clears his throat, "We need weapons, and we were told to come find you... the pied piper." You tug down the fabric that'd been covering your face to the bridge of your nose. Unveiling the full length of the scar that begins in the center of your forehead, runs down over your left eye and reaches your cheek.

John B whispers, "Just like he said," You make him speak up, "Just like who said. Who sent you?" He steps closer, "Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta. He said you would be able to help us." Your expression elicits a sign of understanding but quickly returns to disinterest.

"I don't help foreigners." The explosive one outbursts again, "You sound just like we do, clearly you're not from here either, so stop shitting us and give us the guns." Those cobalt orbs penetrate the window of your soul but only bring out the sinister grin on Piper's face. "Fine," Swiftly reaching behind your back, revealing the weapon they so desperately wanted, you hold them at gunpoint.

"-And Cut!" You place the gun down on the counter and Drew approaches the counter once again. "That was really good, I even got caught up in it." He places a hand on his chest to add sincerity.

"Thank you so much. I was really nervous for today, I had no idea what to expect." Someway somehow your conversation moves off to the side of the set, seated on those acting chairs.

You laugh as he brings up your fleeting encounter earlier, "I had no idea you were playing Piper. One second I handed you a cup and I turned around and you're gone." Your stomach hurts from laughing. You take a deep breath of air to stop yourself from dying. "Stop stop stop," You beg, neither of you sure what you were laughing about anymore.

There wasn't much time until you would resume the scene but in the short time, Jonathan and Carlacia invited themselves over, giving a proper introduction, sparking a lively group conversation. Being 26 put you somewhere in the middle of the cast's ages, but no one got treated any differently because of it.

This current moment was proof. You and Carlacia posed for a selfie she insisted on taking, honouring the 'newest member' into their family. Both leaning in over the image on her screen you share a hearty laugh. JD is captured in the background in the middle of a gnarly yawn.

"Give me the phone, Lacy. That picture is a federal offence." He threatens, not an ounce of seriousness to be sensed in his voice. "I demand justice." You're almost certain you'd have a fully developed six-pack by the end of filming just from all the laughing.

Before you knew it the break was over and you were back where you'd left off. Went through the scene once more, adjusting anything that needed to be altered and carrying on. "I'm only going to ask you once, what do you want?" You've got a tight grip on the weapon and a crazy look in your eyes.

For the first time, Kiara breaks her silence. "Chandler Groff killed our friend! We can't let him get away with it." Her pleas pique your interest, and it's evident in your expression. "Chandler Groff, The conman?" They nod slowly and you begin to fume.

"Come." You wave them over, whipping open the curtains and entering the back of your shop. Four walls filled with various weapons from swords to machine guns. "Feeling like a kid in a candy store." Cleo beams, looking at the options, nothing but revenge in mind.

"Is that a canon?.." Pope trails off, "You've gotta be ready for anything. Expect the unexpected." Pope wholeheartedly agrees while John B begins questioning your knowledge about Groff. "He wronged some friends of mine. He got away before I could get to him, and that was a good call. I would've blown his brain to bits if I got my hands on him."

Kie smiles at that mention, "That's the dream," John B mutters. "Last time he was here, he was after some magical relic, a mythical one might I add. The blue... crest?" The item is lost on you when Sarah fills in. "The blue crown." It dawns on you at the mention.

"It's real," Kie admits and all the pogues turn to her with horror at her honesty. "Groff has it and god knows where he could be with it." You think, "If what you're telling me is true... then that crown is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. He can't just sell it at any auction. There's only one person with money like that. Mr. Finch."

"Where can we find him?"

"He's far. A two-day journey at minimum. You'll be forced to cross enemy territory and only locals know how to navigate the oasis under the radar. If you really are set on killing Groff, I'd be happy to lead you."

You notice an exchange of various looks between the group. "We need a second." Suddenly there's an exclusive huddle that leaves both you and the tall man at odds. He was sending daggers towards you. "Too cool to be part of their little club, are you?" Rafe stalks towards you, long intimidating strides. Displeased with your little joke.

Your faces were close enough that you could see his pupils dilate and contract now in the light from the window. "Listen. I've heard everything you said, and I'm not buying it. I don't trust you, and if you think for even a second I'll let you get in my way, you've got another thing comin'."

You noticeably gulp, it was unscripted but your nerves propelled it. He towered over you, your dark brown eyes searching his blue ones for any signs of insincerity but none was to be found. Every word he said, he meant it.

"And Cut! Drew, Y/n, amazing," Josh adds, and it's only when you hear your names called that you both back away from each other. However, it felt a little harder than normal, as if something was drawing you in.

Madison calls you over, and your feet are already on the move. With one last glance over your shoulder, your eyes meet his for just a moment.

His piercing eyes hold yours, a mix of curiosity and something unspoken flickering behind them, making your chest tighten with uncertainty. You can see it—he feels it too.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza

[rolanpilled]

Facts about Rolan you might have missed, while you were busy saving the world

Spoilers for Baldur’s Gate 3 below!

Here’s a collection of some Rolan facts you may have missed during your playthrough. (These are all from memory, so I will edit this later with sources and exact quotes.)

He is not related by blood to Cal and Lia - You can find this information by speaking with his corpse. All three of them consider each other family, but Rolan seems to hold some insecurities about his position with his siblings. In the same conversation, he mentions having “no one” when asked if he has family and that he identifies as “Rolan, just Rolan” - potentially implying that he’s been abandoned or rejected by his blood family, if they’re alive.

Cal considers Rolan an older brother - If Rolan dies during his rescue attempt in Act 2, Cal confesses that Rolan is his “older brother” and “the person he looks up to the most”.

Rolan loves organizing things - He has overhead dialogue with his siblings where he jokes about wanting an organized, color-coded sock drawer.

You can try to convince Rolan to leave his siblings behind at the grove - Try to convince him to leave Lia behind, and he will admit she’s a pain sometimes, but he could never leave her, not even for his prestigious apprenticeship.

Rolan’s diary changes depending on if his siblings live or die - Self-explanatory. He obviously becomes much more depressed and angry if you fail to save his siblings.

Rolan and his siblings have known each other since Cal was at least eight - They have overhead dialogue where Cal mentions that, when he was eight, Rolan once conjured a cat for him, only for him to find out it was made of fire.

It’s implied that Rolan, Cal, and Lia share a mother figure - If Lia dies, Cal has dialogue with Rolan about throwing a party in memorial for her, “like [they] did for mum”.

Rolan, Cal, and Lia have unique dialogue depending on which of them die - This is self-explanatory, but you can see most of the scenes here. He also appears to have unique dialogue coded in act 3 depending on if he’s angry with you or not (if you disrespected Cal and Lia’s memories by calling them Carl and Liam), but I haven’t been able to trigger it yet.

https://twitter.com/gimblebock/status/1705080072489574619?s=46&t=ZnMav_9KejiNOZkZPad0Mg

Lorroakan hates to admit it, but Rolan is more powerful than him - Speak with Lorroakan’s corpse after killing him and having Rolan side with you. He will begrudgingly admit that his apprentice is more powerful than him. Side note, it can be implied that Lorroakan never calls Rolan by his name, as he defaults to “tiefling” or “boy” in their few interactions.

If Rolan has a high enough initiative in the Lorroakan fight, he will use Thunderwave to shove Lorroakan off the tower. Peak revenge.

Some of Rolan’s spells have his name in front of them (Rolan’s Thunderwave, Rolan’s Mage Armor) - Some people have headcannoned this as meaning he had to learn magic by himself, therefore being a Sorcerer. Considering his clothes are a unique color combination for the Sorcerer robes, it raises more than a few questions

Rolan always carries Lorroakan’s letter on him - This one always makes me so sad, pointed out by @sadwizardlover. Throughout the game, the one thing Rolan always carries on his person is the written response from Lorroakan to his letter, posted below.

Lorroakan also beats Rolan up😭 He'll only admit this if Lorroakan's dead though

That’s all! If anyone has any more to add to this list, shoot me an ask✨💞

[jayke0]

Bunk Up

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem reader

Summary: Arthur invites you on a hunting trip, but you foolishly forget your tent. No harm done, you can bunk up with him, right?

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: a deer gets killed (camp's gotta eat), female masturbation, dry humping, fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint, unprotected sex, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 3,132

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………......................………………………………….

Why in god's green earth had you agreed to go on this hunting trip again?

Oh yeah, because you have a hard-on for Arthur Morgan… figuratively, that is.

It'd be alright if you could just tell him your feelings, but you'd prided yourself on liking more respectable, more rich men in the past; that's the easiest way to make a living, at the end of the day. You'd originally intended to go for the gang leader, but that man is oblivious and stubborn as hell, not to mention not actually rich, much to your displeasure.

Then Arthur had introduced himself to you. His stupid snarky remarks and silly outfits and disgustingly beautiful eyes all seemed to merge together into this gorgeous man that loomed in front of you and had your knees almost buckling.

Even worse, he'd noticed the way your demeanour changed and how your body seemed to crumble under the weight of his soft eyes.

“Hey! Are you even listenin’ to me?” His gruff voice breaks you from your trance.

“ ‘course I am, I always listen to your wise words, Mr Morgan.” You remark, looking up at him from the position you'd had your eyes trained on seconds ago. “Yeah, sure.” You feel his rough fingertips turn your chin back towards the deer in front of you, a gesture that makes heat rise in your cheeks all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Take the shot, you got a perfect shot there, can't miss it.”

The cold varnished wood cools your warm cheeks as you bring it close to your face and grit your teeth.

“Always shoot on empty lungs.” His whisper sends shivers down your spine before you take the shot, a loud crack echoing through the trees as a clatter of birds ascends into the sky.

“You did good! That was perfect.” A soft grunt leaves his throat as he gets up and checks the prey. “Think Pearson will make a good meal outta this,” his eyes then meet yours. “Good girl.” he tips his hat to you.

Damn Arthur Morgan, with that shit eating grin that makes your stomach flutter.

“You know I ain't one for pickin’ on people–” Arthur starts, shoveling chunks of peaches in his mouth, “but I don't think I've ever seen someone forget their tent on a huntin’ trip.”

“Ok, for one, you're always picking on people, ‘specially if you don't like ‘em. And for two… just– shut the hell up.” You pull your coat tighter around your body to shield yourself from the cold rain drizzling down your neck, the soft fur bringing you some warmth and comfort to your otherwise shaking body.

“Easy girl, don't be gettin’ mad at me now. Besides, it means you get to share a tent with me, ain't that a dream?” A simple grumble from you makes the man chuckle lowly. “I won't take that personally.”

It was a dream, and you hated admitting that.

Luckily, you'd remembered your bed roll, so at least you didn't have to snuggle up under the cotton sheets with your rugged partner… but, admittedly, a small part of you is disappointed at that.

You try to forget about those thoughts that are festering in the back of your mind and making you squeeze your legs together, but as the cold seeps into your bones and makes yourself huddle further into the sheets, you find yourself backing up against the warm body behind you.

The soft rustle of trees keeps you awake, at least that's what you tell yourself at first, not wanting to give into those filthy images of the cowboy flashing behind your eyelids.

Soon, all too soon for your liking, you find yourself panting. It's barely audible, but it's enough to make yourself embarrassed and look back at the outlaw peacefully sleeping behind you, unaware of the pictures you have playing on loop in your head. It makes you bite your lip; the thought of touching yourself right next to the man you've been meaning to tell your feelings to for months.

Quietly and carefully, you slide your hand over your body and between your legs, rubbing your already damp cunt over the fabric of your underwear. The feeling makes you grit your teeth much like earlier, and a small noise sneaks past your lips. You look back at Arthur again to see his chest still rising and falling slowly… fuck it, what's the worst that could happen?

Your hand slips into your underwear before you're even registering it. It's too cold to take the blanket off, or even your underwear for that matter, so you just run your fingers through your wet folds under the thin fabric. The slick noise it makes sounds too loud in the quiet forest, but at this point you're pretty sure the man is asleep, so you continue teasing yourself.

Your fingers circle your hole as you imagine it being his thick digits instead, or maybe even his tongue, since he's usually so quick with it. Another wet noise fills the tent when your fingers slide inside your needy cunt, buried to your knuckles as you massage that glorious spot inside you. When you pick up the pace, and the noises get louder, you're practically praying, wishing it was Arthur's fingers instead. They'd stretch you wide and fuck you good, the thought makes you shove some of the blanket in your mouth.

You're teetering on the edge at this point, scanning your brain for that final image that'll send you descending down the cliff… but a thick arm wrapping around your waist has you freezing in place.

“What have we got here?” Arthur's low, sleepy voice has the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, raising goosebumps all over your body as if he'd just ripped the sheets from your body.

“Arthur!–shit, I'm sorry–." You start, but his nose pressing against the back of your neck makes you stop in your tracks.

“I ain't judgin’ you, girl. We've all got our urges, desires.” He shuffles up closer to you, closing in on your body till his chest is pressed against your back, and his crotch is angled perfectly against your thighs. “Just wanted to know what you were thinkin’ about.”

God, his voice is so soft and low, it could make you fall asleep if your fingers weren't still knuckle deep inside yourself. “I–uhm…” Should you admit it? With the way he's pressing against you, it makes you think you should.

“You.”

“ ‘s that so? And why ain't you told me about this before, sweetheart?” His breath is hot on the back of your neck, pushing out any coldness that was left in your body as his large hand splays across your stomach and strokes your soft skin.

A huff escapes your nose a little louder than you expected. “Because… I'm embarrassed, I don't wanna be thinking about you like this.” You mumble ashamedly, but as those words leave your lips, you start moving your fingers inside your cunt again; a ‘come hither’ motion that makes you bite your lip to contain your noises.

“Oh, that ain't very nice. You ain't exactly a saint ya'self, Darlin’.”

Fuck, the way his words roll off his tongue makes you roll against your hand with a soft noise.

The action must've pleased Arthur, because he lets out a pant and presses his hips closer to yours, grinding in tandem with you as your hips roll on your fingers.

This feels so strange and wrong, but you aren't sure why. It's not like Arthur is married or even has a girl, he's just as lonely as you, and maybe that's exactly why you're so drawn to each other.

“Mmm, been dreamin’ ‘bout this for months, pressing against you like this.” He groans softly. His chin is placed neatly on your shoulder, cheek pressing against yours as his stubble itches your skin. He feels so warm and big behind you, like he's shielding you from any and every burden, and as his hips rock against yours more, you can't help but do the same. You grind back on him with short, soft pants, tilting your head to just get a glimpse of his blissed out face.

“When was the last time you did something like this, cowboy? You're acting like you're gonna cum in your night clothes.”

That makes a soft chuckle leave his red lips, flushed face pulling away from yours to look down at you.

“Long enough to be needin’ you.”

His words make you shiver, but he's quick to distract you with his hand taking your wrist and swatting your hand away.

“Lemme do it for you, sweetheart, please?”

Before your brain can even question or think about it, your body is telling him yes, your head nodding almost instantly. His fingers are quick to dive into your under garments and slide through your slick folds, a groan from him ringing in your ears.

“Dammit girl, you must have one hell of an imagination to make ya'self this wet… Jesus.” He grunts, looking down at his hand in your underwear with only the dim light of the lantern making your skin glow.

“I always get like this when I think of you, Arthur.” You tell him as your hand wraps around his wrist. “You're the only one that can make me cum.” You moan in his ear, making him dive his fingers into your needy cunt.

The stretch is wonderful, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel it, and it's just how you expected, if not better. His thick digits curl and glide over your walls until he finally feels you squirm against him as they touch that delicious spot.

“Yeah? You like it there, darlin’? Want me to keep goin’?”

Again, your body simply speaks for you, nodding quickly and grinding down on his fingers. You feel him grind his hips against you again, his body seemingly wanting to get impossibly closer to you as he ruts against your ass.

“You're such a pretty girl, y'know that? Been waitin’ to tell you that since the day we met.” He rests his chin on your arm so he can peck the exposed skin and continue curling his fingers inside you.

The tent is once again filled with the filthy sounds of your hole taking two fingers, sloppy wet sounds that would make you feel ashamed if it didn't feel so fucking good. It feels like all your nerves are being stroked at once, each time his fingers brush against your tummy or stroke your walls feels like you can't get enough of the electricity that runs through your body. You grip his thick arm, looking back at him as moans fall from your lips.

“You're damn good… shit.” You whimper as he looks up at you, big round eyes meeting yours to show he's there.

“Well, I appreciate that, comin’ from you.” He chuckles lightly, his own words breathy while his hips start to snap a little faster and become sloppy. “You gotta lemme feel this cunt for myself, please sweetheart, lemme feel this cunt clench around my cock.”

You find it hard to stop rocking your hips when he's talking to you like that, but eventually you take a deep breath and stop yourself. His fingers slip out of you with a lewd sound, and you feel him shuffle to get his night clothes off.

Your own are gone within seconds, your body too hot and needy to worry about if you'd thrown them outside to the wolves to get torn to shreds, all you can focus on is the man behind you.

As much as this position made you wet before, you desperately want to see his handsome face, even if it is barely visible. So, you flip onto your other side and rest your hands on his chest, the warmth spreading through your fingers. You can practically feel his excitement buzzing off of him and through your body, and it makes you giggle a little. “Jesus, you really ain't done this in a while, have you?”

“Not with a girl as pretty as you, sweetheart.” One hand slides over your cheek while his other finally gets his clothes off.

Just his tone alone makes your cheeks heat up, but as he leans in for a kiss, you find yourself taking in a breath of surprise. It's easy to melt into his arms and get lost in the feeling of his lips; they're surprisingly soft and sweet, and they feel like they fit perfectly on yours.

You're so swept up that it takes you a second to notice his hand snaking around the back of your knee and pulling your hips closer to himself.

That's when you feel it.

His length rests against your slick pussy lips, your leg now cocked over his waist to get him close. It feels bigger than you expected, thicker than you expected, it makes you whine softly on his lips.

You hate his little grin that you feel spread across his face. “Impatient, ain't you?” He teases, slowly rocking his hips against yours to let his cock slide through your sopping folds. His tip manages to butt against your clit each time, making you furrow your brows and moan softly on his lips.

Your hand is still resting on his cheek as you feel him push in for the first time, and god are you glad you're holding onto your bedroll with the other, because the stretch and the way he fills you makes you almost cum on the spot, a loud moan spilling from your lips to make you whimper embarrassedly.

“Oh sweetheart, don't be embarrassed. I love the noises you're makin’ for me, they're makin’ me so goddamn hard, can you do it again for me?” He asks as he pulls his hips back before sliding inside your warm, slick walls again.

You're quick to oblige to his plea, your body automatically reacting with a soft choked moan at the surprise of his thick cock stretching you once again. You can feel his calloused fingers still gripping the back of your knee to hold your leg up, giving him the perfect angle for his length to hit every nerve you have inside you and send sparks of arousal up your spine.

“Thaaat’s a good girl, look at'chu.” The man purrs, his warm breath making your eyes flutter shut so you can focus on his cock spearing you with each slow, deep thrust.

“Holy shit, Arthur, f–feels like you're splitting me in half.” You moan as your hands slide over his thick biceps and along his broad shoulders, finding that the perfect place for you to grip on for dear life too.

Arthur groans before leaning forward to press a kiss on the top of your head as he pants softly. “Biggest you've had, huh? Never felt somethin’ like this inside you, have you?” He doesn't accept the simple shake of your head, instead giving you a sharp thrust that has your nails dig into his flesh and a whimper spill from your lips. “No! No, I haven't… I love it, dammit, I love your cock.”

Something inside him seems to click as you say those words, a long moan slipping from his throat as his grip becomes tighter on your leg to pull you closer to him, his cock burying deeper inside you. He doesn't give you time to adjust before his hips are colliding with yours and the sounds of both your arousal soaked thighs are filling your ears and sending waves of pleasure from your head to your toes.

“Listen to those filthy noises, girl, that's all you. That's your wet cunt..” Arthur manages to moan out. He tilts his head down to watch your hips connecting, his head resting against your collar bones. “What a pretty cunt it is too… shit, I ain't ever felt somethin’ as good as this, miss.” His words seem to roll off of his tongue with ease, as if he's a erotic poet reciting the words he's scrawled down on the page. Maybe it has something to do with that journal he's writing in all the time… lord above how you'd love to read that.

“For you, Mr Morgan,” you blabber without even thinking about the words coming from your mouth. “I'm all for you, want you to take me like this over and over–.” It's funny how worked up you get over your own words, but it seems to have an even better effect on Arthur.

His brows knit together as his jaw hangs open a little, and dirty blonde strands of hair fall in his face and stick to his forehead perfectly.

“Shit, girl, you're gonna make me finish inside you if you keep talkin’ like that…” The man groans, his lip finding its way between his teeth to give him something to chew on. Somehow, his thrusts get faster, impossibly better as you feel the molten heat spread through your body and up to your throat to make you moan his name, along with any other expletives that come to mind.

Before you can stop yourself, you're saying dangerous words that, with any other man, would be like handing a loaded gun to a baboon.

“I want you to do that Arthur! Please– please cum inside me–” Your entire body tenses up before you come crashing down, whaling and grasping onto him for dear life as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm and make sharp thrusts that have you whimpering loudly. Your walls clench him tightly in pulsing rhythm, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

It's only a few more seconds before he's tearing his body away from yours and fisting himself, white ropes shooting all over your tummy as groans and growls rumble in his chest and his head throws back.

You watch the whole scene in front of you in awe, as if you're at the goddamn theatre watching a play… no, it's better than that. You'd never had time for the theatre, but you always have time for Arthur, despite how he gets on your nerves sometimes.

You smile softly at him as he lifts his head to look down at you, a smug grin on his face as he leans forward and pecks your lips.

“Hey, what's with the grin?” You huff softly and hit his chest playfully.

“Nothin’ just been waitin’ for you to admit your feelin's for me for a while now.”

An annoyed growl leaves your lips as you feel your face heat up with embarrassment, burying it in his chest instead to save you from his teasing.

“Shut the hell up, Morgan…”

[its44intheehouse]

CHARLES LECLERC-NSFW alphabet

this is very. spicy. enjoy🍒

A - Aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

Charles is sweet. After destroying your guts or making love passionately to you, he’ll always make sure you get the proper aftercare. He’ll offer to clean you up, run you a relaxing bath, get you water, whatever you need. He is a very attentive boyfriend.

B - Bodypart (their favorite body part of his and his partner’s)

He is very proud of his physique. Especially his abs and hands. He spends a lot of his time training and making sure he stays fit, not only for the sake of his career but also for him. One time he asked you to ride his abs, and it turned him on so bad that he almost came in his pants just watching you get off like that. And he loves it when you stare at his hands. You do it unconsciously sometimes and he likes to pretend he doesn’t notice it until later on when he’s making you come with them until you can’t take it anymore.

On you, he loves LOVES your boobs and your legs. He can’t get enough of the sight of your boobs when you’re riding him and they just bounce in his face. He has to have his mouth or at least his hands on them everyday. It’s a must. Whether he’s coming up behind you for a hug or he’s spooning you while sleeping, his hand is always underneath your shirt, touching them. And it’s not always sexual, he just loves them so much it becomes a reflex. It’s comforting for him.

And your legs. He loses his mind everytime he sees you wear one of your short skirts or dresses and he can see your long, soft legs. He loves it when you put them in his lap while you’re reading your book, when they’re propped on his shoulders while he’s fucking you raw or eating your pussy. It adds an extra spice when he just fucked you dumb in his car before an event and you just have to walk around the whole night talking to people while his cum is slowly dripping down your legs.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

He’s versatile. But always respects your wishes, so he’ll come wherever you want him to. But if he had to admit, he is obsessed with the idea of coming inside of you. He is very sensitive to touch. So if fucking you with a condom made him feral, imagine letting him feel you without one. Once you got on birth control and gave him the green light, he went nuts about it, fucking you anytime and everywhere he could and making sure to pump his cum deep enough so you would feel it slip out of you even hours after.

Also, he thinks its very hot when you blow him and swallow right after, smiling at him as you stick your tongue out to show him how good you are for him. And even though most men find it disgusting to kiss their girl after they suck their dick, Charles is definitely an exception. He’ll grab your chin and press his lips to yours everytime, then he’ll smirk and tell you “You did so well, baby. Good girl, made me feel sooo good.”

D - Dirty secret

He wants to make a sextape. He is absolutely, head over heels in love with you, and although he’s always enjoying the moment when you two fuck, he’d love to have a video of you doing it so everytime he’s away from you for racing he has a visual reminder of how wet you get for him, how good you’re taking him, how destroyed and unreal you look when your eyes are tearing up and your mouth is swollen from his kisses and how pornographic your moans and whimpers sound everytime he’s thrusting inside of you.

E - Experience (how experienced he is in bed)

He is a relationship type of man. He’s had some girlfriends in the past, not a crazy amount of them though, but he knows what he’s doing. He always goes all in when it comes to sex, because he loves to be able to feel good and make his partners feel good also. He’s kind of cocky and wants to do a good job so that he can see the results of it afterwards. How your legs are still shaking, how you’re having trouble walking or sitting just because of how good he got you.

F - Favorite position

As I said, he’s versatile. He’ll have you in every position he can think of, as long as he knows it’s gonna benefit the both of you, especially you. Charles loves challenges, so you two tried a bit of everything almost. But his favorite positions have to be the good ol’ missionary, because he gets to see you in all your beauty underneath him, cowgirl, because it does something to him when you’re the one in charge, and doggy, so he can slap and grab your ass anytime he feels like it. He also likes to wrap your hair in his fist and pull on it so he can have your back pressed against his chest while one of his hands is busy rubbing your clit.

G - Goofy (how serious is he in the moment?)

It depends. Usually Charles appreciates a light energy, and enjoys being his playful goofy self. He’ll crack a joke in bed sometimes, but most of the time he takes things seriously because he wants to show you a good time.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they? how do they prefer their partners?)

He doesn’t like to be messy, personally. Also, due to his racing and excessive sweat that always results from it, he prefers to keep things clean and shaved. He’s always trimmed nicely and fresh.

On you, he doesn’t really care, as long as things don’t get too much out of control and you take good care of your hygiene.

I - Intimacy (how is he during sex)

He’s always making sure to put you first. He isn’t afraid to slow things down or stop if he sees you’re not particularly enjoying something, and will always ask you if you’re okay or if you need something. He’s also very romantic. During foreplay, during sex, all the time really. Will have you swooning after his sweet words and affectionate touches and he always looks at you as if you are the most beautiful woman to set a foot on this earth. Because he believes you are.

J - Jack off (does he masturbate?)

He rarely has the time to do that and he doesn’t have to think about it too much because most of the time you’re with him, so it isn’t hard for him to find a way to get off. But when you’re away and he’s lonely in one of the hotel rooms on race weekends, he’s always facetiming you. And no matter what you do, that man will get an erection. You can always tell he’s needy when his breathing gets uneven and his voice is slightly shaky, so you offer to talk him through it. Dirty talk was something that never came to you naturally even though you craved it secretly, but since dating Charles, you’ve both experimented with it and now it became a habit for you when you’re on the phone masturbating with him or helping him come.

K - Kink (what kink/s does he have?)

He gets feral when you’re bossing him around. Especially in bed, he loves to see you comfortable enough to seek control and have him do whatever you want. If you’re on top, he’s a dead man. He thinks it’s so sexy.

Also, Charles is a family man. He wants to have a family and kids at some point, because he absolutely ADORES them. We been knowing. He can’t help the smile on his face or the glint in his eyes when he sees you with kids. He knows you’re going to be the mother of his children and that thought never fails to make his heart flutter. But it also makes his dick throb violently. He can’t stop imagining it. Your tits swollen and full of sweet milk and your stomach big, carrying his babies with so much love. God, he can’t wait for the moment you’ll both be ready so you can start trying. But that doesn’t stop him from fucking you multiple times and pushing his cum back inside of your abused cunt. Even though he knows you’re on birth control, he’ll still fuck you stupid and imagine he’s getting you pregnant right then and there, while groaning and whispering to you “You’re so full of me, ma belle. Fuck. One day I’m gonna get you pregnant. You’re gonna let me put a baby in you and I’ll make you my beautiful little wife, yeah?”

Anyway 😏

L - Location (favorite places to have sex)

It doesn’t really matter to Charles. If he’s horny, he’s gonna want to take you anywhere. Not a corner of his or your home was left untouched, you fucked everywhere. The bed, the couch, on the table, on the kitchen counter, the floor, in the shower, the wall… You’ve even done it in his drivers room a few times. He also has a thing for car sex. Charles loves his cars and he loves you, so fucking you there gets him pretty enthusiastic.

M - Motivation (what gets him going)

So easy to make him want you. Like I said, he is very much in love with you so he’s always down. But he has a thing for teasing. He’s a big flirt and a very successful one, he never fails to make you blush or make you wet. But when you turn the tables and flirt with him back, teasing him and batting your eyelashes at him, he thinks he’s going to pass out. Your whole energy makes you irresistible to him.

N - No (turn offs, things he wouldn’t do)

He believes sex is for pleasure and exploration. So with that being said, he would never hurt you. He’s down to try almost anything sexually, but he can’t stand the thought of being too rough to the point of inflicting real pain on you.

O - Oral (how good they are at it, preferences on receiving/receiving)

Charles is a both a big giver and receiver. He’s got quite the ego so making you feel good also feeds his confidence. This man’s purpose is to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your legs shaking. He gets off on the sweet taste of your pussy, on the sounds you’re making, your scent, the way you grip his hair and roll your hips on his face. God, he could stay between your legs for hours. He’d never get tired of it. He even asked you to sit on his face a few times, even though you were a bit unsure at first and needed a bit of convincing. But once you got to see how hot it was and how amazing it felt, you were the one starting to ask for it.

Going back to the ego thing, sucking his cock does inexplicable things to him. He thinks it’s so cute when you try and take more and more of him everytime just because you want him to feel good. Seeing you struggle to fit all of him in your mouth gives him a big confidence boost. He likes to throw some praises here and there to encourage you when you look up at him with teary eyes.

P - Pace.

Usually depends on the mood. He’s always sweet, romantic and considerate. You’re his princess, the love of his life, and he’ll make love to you just the way you deserve it. But he can switch up real fast and become more rough and fast if you ask for it or if something is really bothering him and making him mad. One time after a DNF and a nasty fight with his team, he just made his way to you, grabbed you without a word and rushed you to his drivers room to take out all his frustrations. He was so mad he couldn’t even care about someone hearing you. You rarely see Charles mad, but you couldn’t lie and say something about him fuming wasn’t making your knees go weak.

Q - Quickie

You two had mastered the art of quickies. It isn’t unusual for you to have one before or after a race, between interviews, before events, even in the private jet’s bathroom. Although he loves to take his time with you. But everything will do, as long as he has you.

R - Risk (how risky he is)

If it wasn’t for his career, he’d be more unhinged. For now, he has only tried making you cum with his fingers under the table while you were out with some of the drivers. He loves his job and he knows he can’t afford to act too reckless if he wants to keep it.

S - Stamina (how many rounds can he go for?)

He’s more of a one looooong round typa guy. It can last up to two hours or more, and he’s going to drain all the energy out of you.

T - Toys (how does he feel about toys? does he own some?)

Charles is a grown man and knows that toys are his teammates, not his enemies. He doesn’t own any and neither do you, but he has thought a lot about buying some for you, just to switch things up a bit or for you to use them when he’s away. He’ll definitely facetime you and ask you to use them on camera so he can see.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s going to tease THE SHIT OUT OF U. He’s always playful and loves to make you frustrated. He always enjoys watching you slowly crack from his teasing.

V - Volume (how loud he is in bed)

He prefers to hear you more, and sometimes he is just too focused on what he’s doing so he doesn’t make a lot of noises. A few moans, groans and whimpers here and there. But oh boy, when he’s close? He turns it up a notch.

W - Wild card

He kind of loves it when you deny him pleasure. One day when he was streaming you decided to make things a bit spicy and crawl under the desk to give him head. To say he was surprised was an understatement, since he was used to you being more on the shy side. He wanted to end the stream right then but you made it very clear that if he did that, you’d stop. And even though it was the hardest thing he had to do, especially with the risk of people catching up on what was actually going on, he has to admit it was hot as fuck. He came so much then.

X - X-Ray (what’s under)

Charles is above average, thick and veiny. It’s a delicious stretch and hits the spot every.single.time.

Y - Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Very high. This man is almost always bricked up. He could go for it anytime.

Z - Zzz (how fast they fall asleep after)

After making sure you’re both comfortable and you’re in his arms, he’s dead asleep.

[feyascorner]

Please please please I am in desperate need of Astarion comforting Tav.

Like Tav is always comforting everyone else, but there is never anybody to hold their hand when they are scared or hug them when they are sad. Please let them be scared. Let them be sad, let them be vulnerable and let them feel their own emotions.

Tav needs a hug :,)

a/n. no you're so right because I AM ALWAYS OPEN TO TAV LOVE!!!!! This ended up a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I expected but I hope that’s okay! :) also this is not proofread pls excuse me for the grammar errors that are definitely in here.

You don’t mind helping others, really. You don’t mind guiding Shadowheart to escaping her evil goddess, you don’t mind finding a way to aid Gale’s ticking time bomb, and you don’t mind spending hours in battle to find a piece of infernal iron for Karlach. It’s natural after all, because they’re your precious companions.

But it’s also made the thought of being something else—the one being comforted—more shameful than anything.

It was just a bad day, honestly. Bits of your life being pricked at with needles. The whole week had been hellish, but today seemed to be bent on finally wiping you clean. A battle going wrong, the lake freezing over and preventing you from taking a bath, the pot of soup you were in charge of burning to cinders—they’re all small, but they add up. And when you find that your favorite pair of gloves are splitting at the seams, it’s your final straw.

You stumble into your tent, barely holding back tears as you close the flap shut behind you, signaling that you wanted to be alone. You collapse into your bedroll, face first as even the blanket beneath you isn’t enough to cushion you against the hard floor.

Gods.

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging your tears to leave. The others have a lot more problems at the moment—ones that wager between life and death—but you can’t help the overwhelming burst of emotions you’ve kept bottled in for weeks now. So many bad things are happening, but there’s no time for you to mourn, because the least you can do is stand beside your companions in their own grief. It forces you to constantly stay alert, keeping your heart open for them but shut closed for yourself.

It’s so, so overwhelming. It almost feels like it’ll swallow you whole.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You hadn’t even heard him entering the tent, and immediately your shoulders tense as you shoot up into a sitting position, wiping desperately at your eyes. You know they’re red, but you hope he ignores it. “No, I’m just tired. I’m turning in early for tonight, sorry.”

He stares at you, making his suspicion blatantly obvious to urge you to continue but you don’t, forcing your eyes to the ground. “No need to be sorry, my love. I was just making sure.”

You want to throw yourself into him. To let him hold you as you complain about the more mundane parts of life as well as the feelings wracking the sobs of your chest. To let him soothe you as all you can do is cry.

But you don’t. It’s just not what you do.

“Pity, these pretty things of yours,” he lifts your gloves that had been discarded on the ground with a cock of a brow. “I quite liked them. But…they don’t seem to be at a complete loss yet.”

You finally look at him.

“Why it just needs a bit of stitching and some polish. It’ll look even better than it did before with my handiwork,” he inspects the fabric closely. “Hm, I was finished with fixing Karlach’s shirt anyway, I suppose I could spare some time for your gloves.”

Despite his words, his eyes are gentle as they shift over to you, and it makes your lip quiver.

“I’ll ask again,” he says softly, and you know it’s an effort in vain to resist. “Are you alright?”

Like a river breaking through a dam, you fling yourself into him, tears already slipping down your cheeks as they smear against his shirt. You worry about the snot for a split second, yanking away, but he just pushes your head back to him, sighing with you practically wrapped on top of him.

“You should have told me before things had gotten this bad, my love,” he says, no true judgment laced in his words. If anything, he sounds amused. It makes you cry even harder as you wail loudly into his chest, with his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

It’s like a breath of fresh air.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He asks eventually after what seems like eternity, and your sobs have calmed to sniffles.

“…not now.”

“Very well,” he laces his fingers with yours, and you tilt your head up just enough to see the fond smile stretching on his lips. “I shall remain here until you’re ready. Until then, I have no quarrels with our current arrangement.”

You mumble against him as he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “…thank you for this.”

“You needed this,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. “I’m not you, of course, which is why comfort is not my strong suit, as charming as I am. I much prefer blowing off steam in a bloody battle, but this—“ he runs a hand through your hair, gentle enough not to pull at any strands. You resist the need to sigh into the feeling. “—this, I can do as many times as you need.”

[corroded-hellfire]

More Munson Than Expected - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Written with my beloved @munson-blurbs 💜

Summary: The ultrasound for your second pregnancy brings a new wave of excitement to the Munson household.

Note: The excitement I have to let this secret out of the bag after cooking it up for over a year is real. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: pregnant!reader

Words: 4.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Eddie, you didn’t have to come with me,” you remind him again as he pulls up a chair next to the examination table he just helped you get situated on.

Your husband gives you a disapproving look as he makes himself comfortable in the seat. He shakes his head as he reaches out and takes one of your hands in his.

“Did you really think I was going to miss this?” he asks. “No way. I was there for Eliza’s first ultrasound, I’m going to be there for this one’s too.”

“What about the boys?”

Eddie sighs. “I was there for Ryan’s. But I wasn’t aware of when Luke’s was, so I missed it. Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “He would know it wasn’t your fault, though.”

“You keep your mouth shut too, hmm?” Eddie leans over and presses a kiss to your emerging bump. 

“I don’t know if he or she developed a mouth yet,” you say, the sanitary paper crinkling beneath you as you try to get comfortable. 

“Not gonna find out if you’re a he or she,” Eddie continues talking to his developing child. He reaches out and rubs a hand over your stomach. “Wanna see you, though. And make sure you’re healthy.”

The door to the examination room swings open, bringing with it the distinct smell of antiseptic. The ultrasound technician walks in and closes the door behind her.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Munson,” she greets with a smile. “My name is Tara and I’ll be doing your ultrasound today. The doctor tells me that you don’t want to know the sex. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod. “We want this one to be a surprise.”

“That is no problem. Let me just set up here and we’ll get started.”

While she gets to work, Eddie helps you as you attempt to tug your shirt up enough to avoid the cold and sticky goo that will inevitably be squirted on your stomach for the ultrasound. You’re able to tuck it into the underwire of your bra just to be sure that it won’t slide back down and get all messy. 

One of the sleeves of Eddie’s jumpsuit falls down and he shoves it back up past his elbow. You take in the navy material, your eye tracing over his name sewn on in red thread over his heart. 

“What time are they expecting you back at work?” you ask him.

He shrugs. “They know where I’m at. They know it might be a little while.” 

“Alright, are we ready?” Tara asks.

“Yep.” You offer your hand to Eddie again and he laces his ringed fingers with yours. 

Tara picks up the bottle of the dreaded goo and squirts a healthy amount on your abdomen. The chill against your skin sends a shiver throughout your body. At least the wand should warm it up as the tech spreads the substance around to get the best view of the baby. 

To you and your husband it feels like you’re just looking at a black screen with wavy white lines on it. Somehow, everything seems to make sense to Tara as she positions the wand on different parts of your stomach. 

“Oh,” she says at one point, stilling the instrument against your skin. “Here we go.”

A soft but steady thump thump thump fills the air of examination room 5. Tears immediately well up in your eyes. You look at Eddie to see him grinning from ear to ear. 

With the slightest movement of the wand sliding against the goo, you hear thump thump thump thump thump thump.

“Oh wow,” you say through a sniffle. “You can hear it even better now.”

“Sounds strong,” Eddie adds. 

“Actually…” Tara trails off.

“What?” Eddie asks. You feel his hand tighten in your grip. “It’s…not strong?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s very strong. It sounds perfect to me. But I want you to listen.” There are a few moments of silence as the three of you listen to the heartbeat. 

“It sounds fast,” you say.

“It does,” Tara agrees. “But if you listen, you can hear some of the beats overlapping one another.”

She leans in towards the screen and moves the wand again, just slightly. A smile grows on her face as she spots something in the mess of gray shapes on the machine. “Hear it?” she asks.

“Yeah, kind of,” Eddie says. “What does that mean?”

“Well, if you look here,” she replies, pointing towards what looks like a small blob, “that’s your baby.”

Pure glee radiates throughout your entire being. It’s your first glimpse at your and Eddie’s new baby. Another life that the two of you created together. You share a quick loving look with your husband before you both become engrossed in the image on the screen again.

“And here…” Tara says, sliding her finger slightly to the right, “is your other baby.”

The room goes silent save for the sound of the heartbeat. Or rather, heartbeats. Though your ears heard the words, your brain is still processing what they mean. It’s clearly the same with Eddie, as he stares at Tara just like you are.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie finally says. He chuckles and licks over his lips. “Did you say, ‘other baby’?”

“I did, indeed.” Tara taps a few keys on the machine, and it looks like it takes a screenshot. “There are two babies here. Two distinct heartbeats and two little nuggets showing off to the camera.”

“Twins.” The word comes out of you as a whispered breath. “We’re having twins.”

“Not just Baby Munson #4,” Eddie adds in a voice as awed as yours. “Baby Munson #5, too.”

“And they both appear to be developing well,” Tara says. 

Eddie laughs. “No. No, we, uh, we’re not having twins.” He looks down at you, then back at Tara. “We decided we’re just having one more. I’m already forty-one, so just the one newborn is already pushing it.”

Tara grins, clearly used to this kind of reaction. “Well, you’d better rest up. Because you’ll be a father to two new little ones in a few months.”

Eddie grabs your hand, still stunned by the news. You can’t say you’re faring much better, although it does explain why this pregnancy has been so much more intense than when you were expecting Eliza. Part of you feels relieved that it wasn’t all in your head. But another part…

“Twins.” The word leaves your lips in an exhale. “We’re…babe, we’re gonna have five kids. We’re gonna be a family of seven.”

A clammy hand squeezes yours, and you glance up to see Eddie visibly trembling. “How am I gonna raise five kids?” He murmurs. “That’s one more than Harrington, and that dude was pretty much born to be a dad.”

Tara’s brows furrow as she cleans off your belly. “I’ll, um, leave you two to discuss.” She starts for the door, then turns around. “Take all the time you need.”

As soon as the door clicks shut, Eddie starts pacing around the tiny exam room. “Okay, okay. We’re having two babies. At the same time.”

“Yes, that’s generally what happens with twins.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. “I could do without your sarcasm right now, Sweetheart. I just found out that I’m about to out-kid Steve Harrington.”

“Out-kid?” You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle a laugh. 

Eddie doesn’t pick up on your joking tone. “Yes! He has four, and I’ll have five. Five!” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I was barely keeping two alive before you came along, and now I’m gonna be responsible for five?!”

“First of all,” you say, pushing yourself up, “you were an amazing dad before we got together. Even before I started watching the boys, when you were basically doing it on your own. Give yourself some credit. Second, Ryan will be going to college soon enough, so we’ll only have four kids in the house.”

Your attempt at consoling your husband falls flat. “Oh my god, I’m gonna have infants while my oldest is gonna be in college! I’m supposed to be slowing down, not re-babyproofing the house!” He buries his head in his hands. “What were we thinking? And why do you always have to look so hot? I wouldn’t be tempted to jump your bones all the time if you weren’t so goddamn sexy.”

You sigh. “I mean, you’re the one who’s always telling me you want to ‘pump me full of your babies.’ Guess now you really did it.”

“Holy shit.” Eddie runs his hands down his face and takes a deep breath. He stands in the same spot, staring at you for a few silent moments before a smile begins to crack through his fog. “Holy shit.”

“Calming down now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “Or realizing I’m the one who has to push two of them out of my body?”

Eddie ambles over to you on the examining table and rests his forehead against yours. His shoulders have gone down to their usual height again, no longer bunched up around his ears with tension. 

“Okay, I had my mini freak out,” he says softly, reaching up to tug the hem of your shirt down back over your bump. “You may have yours.”

With a low chuckle, you reach up and cup your husband’s face in your hands. 

“I still don’t think it’s hit me yet,” you admit. “Or maybe trying to logic-out your fear helped me with my own, too. I mean, you said something about being too old to re-babyproof the house? Sweetheart, we would have had to do that with one baby anyway.”

“Common sense left me there for a little bit, I’ll admit.”

“And I’ve got one more bone to pick with you,” you say, leaving one hand on his face and using the other to poke him in the chest. 

“What’s that?”

“You said Steve was pretty much born to be a dad. Eddie, out of all the people I’ve ever met in my life, you are definitely the one who was always meant to be a dad.” You lower your hand to your bump. “Because it doesn’t matter if there were one, two, three, or even eight babies in here. You’d still love them all unconditionally and try your hardest to give the world to them.”

“I love our babies,” Eddie replies softly. His hand moves to rest on top of yours on your bump. “I love our twins.”

“Hey, we’ve got some extra resources this time around, too,” you point out. “Ryan drives now. We can recruit him for diaper or formula runs. And he can take Luke and Eliza places if we’re not able to. Luke is old enough now not to be intimidated by being around newborns. He’ll definitely be more hands-on than he was with Eliza. And speaking of the little firecracker…we already know she’s going to be like a mother hen to them. See? Recruiting the kids to help with the kids. And that doesn’t even mention Wayne and all of our friends. At least ninety percent of them owe us from watching their kids at one point or another.” 

“My wife is so smart,” Eddie praises with a small smile. 

“She is,” you reply coyly. “Do you think you could help me off this table, though? Makes sense why it’s been harder for me to get up from things lately—two against one here.”

Eddie gently takes your arms and leads you to a comfortable seated position before helping you hop down from the high table. 

The two of you walk hand-in-hand out of the doctor’s office and across the parking lot to your car. The sun seems warmer and brighter than when you went in. There’s not a cloud in the sky—were there any before? Birds call to one another from the trees that encircle the medical plaza, and their tune brings a smile to your face. Everything seems so light and airy around you that it almost makes you feel like you’re dissociating. But there’s Eddie’s hand in yours. The sneakers you wear knock against the concrete with every step, reverberating the vibration up your legs. You’re very much here in this moment. The magic in the air comes from knowing the amount of love you carried for the bundle of joy in your belly has just doubled. The thought of kissing two little button noses goodnight every day instead of one has you giddy. 

“Baby,” you say as Eddie opens the passenger car door for you. “We’re gonna have double the cuddles.”

“Double the drooly kisses.” The smile on your husband’s face tells you that he’s excited about the prospect. “Double new baby smell.”

You secure your seatbelt and rest both of your hands on your belly as Eddie walks around the car and slides into the driver’s seat. 

“Double the love we give and receive,” you muse softly, looking down at your protruding bump. “I wonder if I’ll get double the pain meds when I’m in labor.”

Eddie laughs as he pulls the car out of the parking space. 

“Time will tell,” he says. “Are you hungry, princess?”

“Yeah. I mean, makes sense, since I’m eating for three,” you reply. “But don’t you have to get back to work?”

“There is no way I’ll be able to focus on anything,” Eddie says with a breathy chuckle as he shakes his head. “I’m taking the rest of the day.”

“Okay. Do you want to get lunch at—oh boy.”

Eddie’s eyes glance over at you before looking back on the road.

“What?” he asks. “What’s wrong?” 

“No, not wrong,” you say. “Just…I-I don’t know how we’ll keep this from the kids. We didn’t think we’d have anything to report to them other than the baby being healthy since we’re not finding out the sex. But there’s absolutely no way I won’t slip up and say ‘babies’ or ‘them’ or something that will give it away. I’d rather they hear the news from us directly than catching us in a slip.”

Eddie nods in agreement. “How do you think we should tell them?”

“Umm…” You purse your lips as you start to ponder different scenarios. Both you and Eddie think in silence for a few minutes before he speaks.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea…”

Eliza is thrilled to have both of her parents picking her up from school. The way she goes on and on about an arts and crafts project they did in class today reminds you of when you were just the babysitter and picked Ryan and Luke up from school. Luke always had something interesting to babble on about—much to your amusement. 

Your second oldest is already at home when you walk in the front door holding Eliza’s hand and Eddie trails in behind with a few bags from the store. Usually, Ryan drives both himself and Luke home from school every day, but now Ryan takes SAT Prep classes once a week after school, forcing Luke to take the bus home. Which you’d think was one of the trials of Hercules with how often Luke shares his disdain for the form of transportation. 

“Whatcha got, Pops?” Luke asks from the couch. His hand is buried in a bag of white cheddar popcorn and an episode of Supernatural is on the television. 

“You’ll see,” Eddie tells him, taking the bags straight to your room. Best to keep them out of the way of the two nosiest Munson children. Although, you wonder to yourself if that will change with the new additions. 

Eliza spies the snack her brother has and quickly sheds her Little Mermaid backpack and pink Mary Jane shoes to climb up on the couch next to him. She sticks an arm in the popcorn bag and brings out as big a handful as her little fist would allow her. 

“There’s food in the bags,” Eliza says to Luke through the kernels stuffing her cheeks.

“Huh?” Luke clearly doesn’t speak four-year-old-with-a-full-mouth.

“The bags Daddy has,” Eliza says once she’s swallowed. She wipes her white cheddar covered fingertips on her white tights. “There’s food in them. I smelled it in the car.” 

“Good job, Watson,” he tells her.

“Uh, who?” Eliza gives her older brother a look that clearly relays she thinks he’s crazy. It doesn’t stop her from taking another handful of popcorn, though. 

“Watson. Sherlock Holmes’ assistant. They’re detectives, Lize.”

“Oh,” is all she says before shoving more popcorn into her mouth. 

You putter around, cleaning up the kitchen and tidying the living room to keep yourself from spilling the beans too early. It’s important to wait until Ryan gets home later. You just know time is going to crawl by at a snail’s pace for the next hour and a half.

When your oldest son finally arrives home, you usher everyone around the kitchen table for a family meeting. 

“Am I in trouble?” Luke huffs. “Because if I am, I’d like to plead not guilty.”

Eddie raises his brows. “Not sure why you’d be in trouble, but I’m sure we’ll find out.” He clears his throat, placing a loving hand on your bump. “No, this family meeting is to tell you guys some exciting news we got at the ultrasound today.”

He reaches over and plucks a grease-soaked Burger King bag from the counter. “Ry, you get the first clue.”

Ryan practically tears open the bag, the hungry teenager ready to devour the Double Whopper without even unwrapping it. 

“Is the baby a hamburger?” Ryan asks mid-bite. He pulls out the fries you got along with it. “Or is it small? Is the clue ‘small fry?’”

You shake your head. “Nope. Nice try, though.” 

Luke’s clue is next, though he’s too busy trying to get his brother to share his food to really pay attention. When Ryan finally relents and tosses a fry his way, Luke looks down at the Gameboy game box in front of him. 

“A Looney Tunes double pack?” He wrinkles his nose. “Are you naming the baby Tweety Bird?”

Eliza sticks out her little tongue in disgust. “That’s a horrible name for a baby!”

“Maybe it looks like Elmer Fudd, like Eliza did when she was born,” Ryan chimes in, licking ketchup off of his thumb. 

“Who?” Your daughter glances between the boys, unaware of the joke being made at her expense.

Luke doesn’t hesitate to fill her in. “The weird guy who hunts Bugs Bunny. The one who always goes, ‘ooh, I hate that wabbit!’”

Eliza shoots him a glare that’s equal parts adorable and terrifying. Luckily, she’s easily distracted by her clue. 

“For Eliza,” you say as you tug the crinkling Target bag off of the biggest hint of all. Eddie already made sure to open the box and cut any wires attached so your daughter can get right at the twin Baby Alive dolls. 

The four-year-old gasps. “Babies!” She holds her arms out as you deliver the box to her.

Little fingers grab onto the first doll, and she gently places it on the table in front to her before removing the second doll. The rest of the family watches in amusement as Eliza covers the baby on the table with a blanket, and cradles the other one in her arms, holding its bottle to its mouth. 

“So,” Eddie asks, rubbing his hands together, “what do these gifts have in common?”

The three of them begin to think. At least, you’re pretty sure Eliza is thinking about it. She’s gazing down at the doll in her arms with the most heartwarming compassion. 

“There’s two burger patties, two games, two dolls…” Luke muses.

“Wait,” Ryan says, his head perking up as an idea occurs to him. “Is it a girl? Like, two X chromosomes?”

Your husband simply stares at your oldest son for a moment before responding.

“In what world would I be smart enough to come up with that?” he asks. 

Luke nods his head in your direction. “Ma is, though. But I think it’s a boy because there’s two of us boys already.”

“Then the hint would have to do with three, genius,” Ryan scoffs. 

The younger brother contorts his face and mocks his brother’s words in a high-pitched voice.

“Maybe Mama has two babies in her belly.” Your daughter’s words are spoken with the most casual tone, the majority of her attention on the plastic doll she’s gently rocking to sleep in her arms. 

The boys both laugh, Ryan rolling his eyes at what he considers a silly idea from a little girl. The Munson brothers turn to you and Eddie, expecting you to be joining in on the laughter, but all they find are your excited and hopeful faces. The chuckles trail off as the boys pause and consider what those faces mean. 

“Wait, you don’t mean…” Ryan starts.

“Oh my GOD!” Luke shouts, banging his hands down on the table in front of him. It rattles the doll Eliza isn’t holding, and she gives her big brother a glare over the disturbance. 

“No way!” Ryan stands up, excitement nearly paralyzing him. He doesn’t know what to do except smile as he holds his arms out in front of him awkwardly. “It’s really…twins?!”

“It’s twins!” you confirm. You make an attempt to stand as well, but the two babies inside of you are keeping your center of gravity low enough to make you give up. 

“Two babies!” Luke hoots. “This is insane!”

Eddie chuckles, his heart at once light as air and completely full at seeing the excitement of his boys. 

“Do you have a picture?” Luke asks.

“The sonogram,” Ryan adds.

“Yeah! Can we see it? Let us see the picture!”

“Do you even know what you’ll be looking at?” Ryan asks as he sits back down next to his brother.

Luke shrugs. “They’ll show us.”

“Okay, okay, here it is,” you say, handing over the image that’s been sitting in your back pocket. “That little spot right there is one baby, and that one right there is the other baby.”

Their stunned faces make you giggle softly as you lean back. 

“Oh my God,” Ryan says. “I can’t believe it’s twins.”

“Holy sh—crap, we’re going to have two new siblings.”

“We’re going to need a bigger house,” Ryan says, looking around the room everyone is seated in.

“Wow, there’s going to be a lot of people living here,” Luke says. “Dad, were you going for twins?”

“That’s not how it works, doofus,” Ryan says as Eddie shakes his head in amusement. 

Luke scoffs. “Explain it to me then, Mr. SAT.”

Eliza heaves a deep sigh for someone with such a tiny body and small lungs. She sets the baby doll in her arms down on the table next to its sleeping sibling. 

“You’re so loud!” she complains. 

“Lize, it’s twin babies!” Luke tells her, gently shaking her frame back and forth. 

“I know, I know, you keep saying it over and over!”

“Aren’t you excited?” Ryan asks her. 

Your daughter shrugs her shoulders once before picking her doll back up and cradling it in the crook of her arm.

“Sure.” 

Both boys look to you and Eddie at her lackluster reaction. You give a gentle shake of your head.

“Don’t worry,” you tell them. “It’ll click at some point.” 

“Oh, what a day,” you sigh as you slip under the blankets to lay down next to your husband. Eddie lifts his arm, and you immediately cuddle up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Your bump nudges his side, and you rub one hand over the soft material of your worn t-shirt. “Makes sense why my bump is more pronounced earlier than it was with Eliza.”

Eddie wraps one arm around your shoulders and brings the other one down to place his hand on top of your own. 

“Can't believe there are four of us in this bed,” he says with a light chuckle.

“Daddyyyyy! Mamaaaaaa!”

A four-year-old with wild curls runs into your room and leaps onto the bed, landing at your and Eddie’s feet.

“Make that five of us,” Eddie says. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep, Little Miss,” you tell Eliza.

She pushes herself onto her hands and knees in her purple piggy pajamas and quickly crawls up the infinitesimal space between you and her father. 

“Careful, careful,” Eddie cautions the closer she gets to your belly.

Eliza halts her ascent and leans back on her heels. Her chocolate brown eyes are as wild as her bedhead is.

“I’m gonna be a big sister to two babies?!” 

Across the hall, a chuckle reverberates in Ryan’s chest as he turns to lay on his side in bed.

“There it is.”

[diddybok]

Request: Skz accidentally finding out one of reader’s kinks… could be a drabble or text! <3

oh my god…yes. happy birthday to me😌

18+ below the cut peeps

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in anyway represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: hyung line x gn!reader

➩genre(s): smut

➩warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, kinks: hair pulling, spit, choking, humiliation. penetration (not specified what hole. this one is for all the delulus out there)

➩author’s note: yeah, smut. just nasty smut. mAy have gotten carried away with this. mAy have had some revelations. mAy be chronically down bad for hyunjin after this…and EYE wrote it.

➩part(s): next

chris | hair pulling | 0.9k (955) words

You were laying on the bed next to Chris. You watching the newest installment of the Bridgerton series, and he playing Pokemon Go. Your friends and the boys constantly tease the two of you saying that you act like a couple when really you aren’t. Chris gets annoyed, much more than he likes to admit, at the constant allegation. However, you don’t pay it any mind. If anything you add fuel to the fire. 

Ping…ping…ping

You groan loudly and press pause on your show. 

“If you could be so kind to turn the ringer on your phone off? I’m trying to watch a sexy scene and your pinging is taking me out the moment!” You say turning your attention to Chris, his eyes still glued to the screen. 

He just hums in response but makes no move to flip the switch on the side of his phone. 

Ping…ping…ping

He chuckles lowly before swiping the notification up to continue his battle. You crawl over to him and snatch his phone from his hand. It seems you will have to see for yourself just who is blowing up his phone. 

“Y/n give it back!” He reaches over to grab the phone but you turn your whole body away from him, laughing as you curl up tightly trying to read the notifications. 

“My my my, who is Aaliyah?” You gasp dramatically. “I miss you so much baby, can’t wait ‘til I can see you again, need you bad Channie” You mimic in a high pitched voice. 

“Y/n I’m serious just give it back!” He growls. It has now turned into a scramble of sorts. You underneath, curled up in a foetal position. Him, on top as he tries to pry your body open to retrieve his phone. 

Chris accidentally releases his grasp on you and in that moment you roll from underneath him.  Planning to escape out of his room, you hastily make a move to climb off the bed. 

It all happened so quickly. The grab. The noise. The drop of the phone. The awkward silence. 

In your attempt to flee, Chris had grabbed you by your hair and yanked you back. You could have wailed, could have screamed, but you did neither. No, what you did was far worse. 

You had released a guttural moan. 

You. Moaning because Chris pulled your hair. 

Neither of you dared to speak, nor look each other in the eyes. You were embarrassed to say the least. Your best friend had just discovered that you have a hair pulling kink. He on the other hand took one too many deep breaths to calm himself. He has never heard you make a noise like that before. Much less because of him. 

“I, ahem- your phone. I’m sorry…you can have it back.” You say keeping your eyes glued to his bedsheets as you slide the phone over to his leg. 

You go to retract your hand quickly so that you can go get a glass of water to cool yourself down. He grabs your wrist almost instantaneously. Not letting you get far at all. 

“Look at me.” He demands. You do as he says, slowly bringing your eyes to meet his. You don’t have to look down at his chest to detect the way it rises and falls heavily. 

He gently runs his hand all the way up your arm, an agenda clearly on his mind. You’re frozen in place as you feel his hand creep to the nape of your neck, his fingers spreading wide as they make their way into your hair. 

Without warning, he tugs your head back harshly causing another involuntary moan to fall from your lips. A soft gasp is released from Chris, clearly enjoying the way you react to the action. 

You guess that’s how you found yourself in this predicament. Knees no doubt bruising as you take Chris’ cock repeatedly down the depths of your throat. 

His hand was embedded deeply into your hair, gripping it tight and using it as a leverage to fuck himself into your mouth.

“Fuck~ just like that Y/n. Mm, m’gonna use you as my personal fuck toy. Forget all the other girls I see. Just pull your hair whenever I need you huh? I don’t know why I didn’t think about it earlier.” Chris says more to himself than to you, releasing a small whine. 

The picture that this will leave in your mind is sure to be one that will fog your brain for the next couple of months at least. You never really thought about Chris in this way. Perhaps in the beginning stages of your friendship, but it quickly went away when you found out he was a manwhore. 

Nothing wrong with that of course, you never had any reason to judge him for it. But god if this is what you were missing. You most definitely would not mind being his personal fuck toy. Platonically of course…

Your eyes are currently watering, as you gag and swallow. Making Chris grip your hair tighter making you moan. That was the breaking point for him as he unloads into your mouth. Not giving you any chance to waste a single drop. 

He releases his hold on you, slowly pulling out of your mouth before slapping the tip on your cheek a couple times.

You look up at him, your glossed over eyes making him coo at you as he strokes your head softly.

“I hope your head isn’t too sore yet, ‘cause I’m gonna use it to fuck you back onto my cock, okay?” Chris says with a devilish smile. 

Forget the sexy scene on television, you’re currently living in the sexiest one of all!

minho | spit | 0.6k (673) words

You and Minho are getting ready for bed after a long day of camping activities. You’re going back home from Korea tomorrow night so you wanted to spend as much time with your best friend as you could. 

Even if that meant agreeing to do whatever he says for the last few days you shared together. Surprisingly, it was a lot of fun. You went fishing and caught a fish. You learnt how to build a campfire from scratch. Went kayaking and almost tipped it over. Let Minho spit in your mouth—

Wait, what?

You shake your head to come back to reality. Minho swirls water around in his mouth before spitting it out into the sink. 

He wipes his mouth as he looks up at you, your gaze seemingly transfixed onto his mouth. 

He still tastes the toothpaste in his mouth so he leans back over the sink about to spit, but then he looks up at you. Holding your unwavering gaze. 

He spits slowly, the saliva descending down into the sink. As it disconnects, he licks his bottom lip smirking at you.

You watched the whole ordeal, obviously. Which explains why you suddenly squeeze your thighs, shifting from one foot to another. 

“Either I’m living in a dream right now, or you, Y/n, are simply filthy.”

“Huh?” You say blinking rapidly. 

“Huh? Huh?” He mocks, walking over to you. 

What is wrong with you? Snap out of it! That is your best friend, you definitely should not be thinking about him spitting in your mouth as you get pounded by his dick. 

“I can practically hear your thoughts. That or you’re speaking aloud.” He smirks, now inches away from your face. 

It seems you finally regain consciousness as your hands claw at the sheets. Minho pummels you from behind at a relentless pace, making you drool. 

You hear him chuckle, his hand falling beneath your chin to catch any saliva before bringing it up to smear on your mouth. 

His hand moves to the underside of your jaw, forcing your head back. Your view of him now upside down as he doesn’t slow the pace. 

“Are you gonna admit that you’re a filthy little slut who likes spit?” He teases, smiling down at you. 

You can only mewl in response, he’s got you going dumb and he certainly enjoys it.

Bringing his hand up to your cheeks, he squeezes gently. Getting you to open your mouth. You do, even going as far to stick your tongue out. 

“Oh look how obedient you are.” He spits into your mouth. His hold on your jaw releases as he moves that hand to cup your chest, hoisting you up so your back, though arched, is against his chest. 

He fucks up into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin and both of your moans fill the tent. Those other poor people are no doubt just trying to enjoy their family camping trip, and here comes the two of you; unapologetically loud as shit. 

“M-Minho…m’close.” You whine. He just chuckles in response, stroking that sweet spot inside of you to push you over the edge. 

It isn’t long before you’re quivering on him, your body already becoming limp as your eyes roll into the back of your head reaching that sweet release. Before you can lavish in the feeling, you’re pulled off of him and he guides your head back to his pelvis. 

“You’re gonna swallow every last drop I give you m’kay? No spitting this out sweetheart.” Minho says as he moans. Pumping himself faster as he unloads his seed into your mouth which you gladly swallow. 

He uses the tip of his cock to smear any remnants of his climax on your lips. He smiles down at you, praising you for doing such a good job whilst also saying how dirty you are. 

This will certainly make your relationship with him all the more questionable. Let’s hope it won’t be the only thing that clouds your mind on the flight home!

changbin | choking | 0.8k (898) words

You and Changbin are in the park having a cutesy little picnic. You may or may not have forced him to come with you since your other friends cancelled at the last minute and you had prepared so much. It’s good that you and Changbin are so alike because neither of you like to waste any food. 

You have both been snacking on some grapes, when you look down and see there is only one left on the vine. Quickly whilst his attention was elsewhere, you pluck the grape from its vine. 

You turn your head as you go to put the grape into your mouth, but a firm hand on your wrist stops you. 

“You swear you’re like a ninja.” Changbin laughs as you turn to look at him with squinted eyes. He just shakes his head, his other hand held out awaiting the grape. 

You look at his hand, the grape, his hand again and then back up to his face. 

“If you think I’m giving you this grape, then you are surely mistaken.” You say, you’re tone curt. 

Changbin looks at you, before shaking his head overzealously. You look at him confused. 

“Why are you shaking your head at me?”

“Sorely.”

“What?” 

“You said surely mistaken. It’s sorely mistaken, doofus.” He says before bursting out into a fit of laughter. 

You look momentarily taken aback, a quiet ‘oh’ coming out of your mouth before you look at Changbin’s laughing state. 

“For that, I’m taking the grape.” He says, plucking the grape from your hand and putting it in his mouth. He starts to chew it teasingly in your face, closing his eyes as he does so. 

Successfully irked, you lunge towards him from your seated position. Unfortunately for your lacklustre skills, he easily manoeuvres you so that your back is against his chest as his bicep and forearm enclose your throat. 

He squeezes playfully, well aware that the two of you are in public. 

“Nice try, munchkin. You’re gonna have to be faster than that.” Changbin gloats. 

You bring your hands up to hold his arm, your hands barely able to enclose his whole forearm. You try to pry his arm off but it’s to no avail as he doesn’t budge. 

He squeezes tighter, his mouth moving closer to your ears. 

“You know I’m not even trying right?” He teasingly whispers into your ear. 

“Bin unhand me.” You plead. 

“What, you’ve given up already?”

“If you squeeze my throat any tighter, I am not responsible for the…sounds that will come out of me.” You say tapping his forearm. 

Changbin’s eyes widen slightly as he realises what you meant. He releases you and you crawl back to the other side of the picnic blanket, fixing your outfit and your hair, pretending like you didn’t say what you just said. 

“You mean to tell me that me choking you was turning you on?” He asks with genuinity. 

You turn to him, shrugging a little. The way you act so nonchalant clearly has an effect on him as he tries not to get turned on himself. 

It didn’t work, for either of you, as you find yourself in the back of his car sitting on his legs as his fingers pump viciously in and out of you. 

“Shh, you gotta be quiet. Don’t want people to start getting suspicious.” Changbin speaks into your ear. 

You do your best to be quiet, but you don’t trust yourself so you put a hand over your mouth. 

“Fuck you’re gripping my fingers so tight. Mm I can’t wait to ruin you. ‘Cause I’m gonna. Yeah, fuck you clenched when I said that. Want me to ruin you, don’t you my sweet?” Changbin purrs. 

Your other hand grips his thigh, the coil within the pit of your stomach starting to tighten. You remove your hand from your mouth as your breath starts to quicken, small whines being released here and there. 

“Bin, I can’t hold it.” You whine. 

“You don’t have to hold it sweetness. Come for me.” He says his hand going to your neck and pressing on the sides of your throat. 

The restriction of air and the squeeze of his hand mixed with his fingers has you seeing stars. Your moan caught in your throat as you orgasm. The lack of air prolongs your release and unfortunately for Changbin, you make a mess all over the backseat of his car. 

He smiles as he watches you get lost in the pleasure. He loosens his grip on your neck and relishes in your pants as you try to catch your breath. 

“Well I’m going to need to deep clean my car, but it was so worth it.” Changbin says, rubbing you through your high and placing a soft kiss to the side of your head. 

You move yourself off of his lap, momentarily looking out the window to see if there were any wanderers that got too curious. Taking a deep breath your eyes meet Changbin’s and he looks at you with a sweet, unwavering smile. 

“What’s that look for?…” 

“Oh nothing, just thinking about all the places m’gonna fuck you when we get back to mine.” Changbin says, his smile widening even more. 

Oh wow, you’re in for a long night ahead of you. Better hope those grapes gave you enough energy for the rest of the day!

hyunjin | humiliation | 1.4k (1446) words

Hyunjin is teaching you part of his dance routine in the studio. You were bored, and teaching somebody helps him to recount the steps. 

For the most part, you were able to keep up with him. Picking up the steps with ease until there was a particularly hard move. 

You can see the frustration building on Hyunjin’s face as you keep messing up this step. The one he tried to teach you fifteen minutes ago…

“Y/n no. Lift your arm like this, this.” He says demonstrating the correct way to do it. 

You copy the motion. You think that you are nailing it and that he is just being too pedantic which explains his elongated sigh. 

“Hyunjin, I don't know what you think I’m doing wrong. I’m literally doing it the way you do it!” You say, now getting frustrated at him and his perfectionist ways. 

He looks at you through the mirror, scoffing and doing the dance move how you did it. Clearly over-exaggerating the way you did it. 

“Does that look right to you? No, it doesn’t. It’s not even a hard step Y/n and you’re struggling to do it.” He says, walking back over to the laptop to replay the song. 

This is embarrassing. You should feel embarrassed. Yet you hide a smile. There’s something about the way Hyunjin gets riled up and then proceeds to belittle you for clearly not being a professional dancer like he is. 

Ridiculous isn’t it?

“Okay let’s go from the top.” Hyunjin says, counting the both of you in. 

The song plays and you both dance to the rhythm. Everything was going swell until you purposefully messed up a move that you know you have no trouble doing. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

You wish you could take a mental picture of Hyunjin’s scowl and print it out. He looks at you, almost pitiful as he turns down the music, his hands on his hip as his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. 

“What are you fucking inept or something? What’s going on? You don’t know your left from your rights? Hm? You need me to teach you the alphabet whilst we’re at it?” Hyunjin taunts, now walking towards you. 

You say nothing, looking up at him with eyes as innocent as you can get them. 

“Cat caught your tongue? Or have you just become so dumb that you can’t even speak anymore?” Hyunjin speaks lowly, backing you into the full length mirror. 

He raises a single eyebrow at you, waiting for you to say something. He huffs out a laugh when he realises you’re not going to respond, but rather cower beneath him. 

You really are spoiled aren’t you? It seems it is so because you got whatever you wanted from this. One moment he pinned you up against the wall, you shoving your tongue down his throat. Then he was shoving his dick down your throat. And now here you are, on all fours, forced to watch as he thrusts harshly into you from behind. 

“This what you needed hm? You just needed to be fucked didn’t you. Naw, dumb baby’s just too stupid to ask for what they want so they decide to piss me off instead huh?” Hyunjin grunts landing a smack on your backside. 

You moan embarrassingly loud, jolting forwards slightly as you feel the impact of his hand on your flesh. 

The song plays in the background adding to the already sexual tension that is in the dance studio. 

Hyunjin stops thrusting, looking at you in the mirror as you stumble a little. The rhythm of thrusts throwing you off as your hips stutter in their movement. 

“You’re gonna fuck yourself on my dick to the beat of the song. See if you’re not completely useless. It would be wise not to piss me off further so if you do a good job, maybe I’ll be nice.” Hyunjin says crossing his arms. 

You wait to see if he was bluffing, looking back at him only to be met with a raise of his eyebrow. You turn back around, meeting his gaze in the mirror. You tune your ears to the song and start throwing it back to the beat. (y’all why this make me bust out laughing okay sorry continue.)

For the first two counts of eight, you were doing pretty well. Matching each beat with the sound of your bottom colliding with his pelvis. He watches you intently as if it were you dancing. He bites his lip, holding back his own moans. 

The chorus of the song comes along and you miss a count. You try to catch up by speeding up your movements, but that just feels too good. Hyunjin tsks at you. 

“You can’t even do this correctly. How embarrassing Y/n. Is there anything you can do without my help?” Hyunjin says shaking his head as he grabs both of your arms. 

You clench around him at his words, making his tough exterior falter ever so slightly as he curses under his breath at the way you squeeze him so tightly. 

He holds your arms like handles as he repeatedly slams you back onto him. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and then close tightly as he reaches deeper, continuously hitting that sweet spot inside. 

“You better open your fuckin’ eyes and watch as you take what I give you.” He says, his tongue coming out to wet his lip as he smirks mischievously. 

You flutter your eyes open, meeting his gaze in the mirror as your mouth hangs open releasing silent moans. Who knew that being humiliated would turn you on to the point it has? You watch his face contort into concentration. Sweat pouring down his face and falling onto your lower back. 

“Hyune, just like that, please. I’m so close.” You whine. 

He tilts his head, one of his hands releasing your wrist to reach beneath you and between your thighs, rubbing you quickly.

“Oh yeah? And you think you deserve it?” He teases. 

You nod relentlessly, not even caring for his permission as you spasm around him as he lands a particularly powerful thrust. 

As he watches you come undone on him he scoffs a laugh, shaking his head before chasing his own release. 

“Mm, where’d you want it? Inside? So it drips down your thighs for everyone to see? Ah fuck, yeah I think so.” He says, small whines leaving his throat. 

He pushes your body all the way down as he now lays on top of you, rutting into you. He lifts one leg up to ground him so he can reach deeper, the rocking motion overstimulating you as you convulse around him once more. You choke out a sob, tears starting to run down your face. 

He catches your expression in the mirror, the tears streaming down and it sends him over the edge. With one final rock, he stills as his cock twitches deep inside of you. Painting your walls white deep inside. 

He rests his forehead on the back of your head. Both of you spent as the sounds of heavy breathing and the song fill the room. 

He slowly pulls out of you, both of you whining at the loss of the warmth. He rolls you over, placing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. 

“Y/n? Are you still with me?” He asks, glancing over your face and down your body. He sees some of his cum trailing out of you and he uses his fingers to push it back in. Fixated on the way your hole envelopes his fingers so accommodatingly. 

He only stops when he feels your hand push his chest and he chuckles lightly. 

“You know you really don’t take orders well. I think I need to train you.” He says, brushing a stray hair out of your face as you finally open your eyes and look up at him. 

He hums softly, admiring you before getting up and sorting himself out so that he is decent to the eyes of the public again. 

“Get up. That wasn’t a reward, you’re going to just have to dance with my cum running down your legs now. The quicker you get the choreography, the quicker you’ll get to shower.” Hyunjin says walking over to the laptop and restarting the song. 

He leaves you to get yourself up on wobbly arms and you smile to yourself. He should know by now that you most certainly do not put up without a fight. 

Hopefully you don’t “accidentally” mess up any more of the moves and make him belittle you again…

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© 2023 diddybok

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 1/?

God I'm a sucker for a soulmate au. (AO3) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2347

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Other info: About this au - Soulmates find each other through touch, which establishes a mental link that lets feelings through, and if solid and built up enough over time, simple thoughts/words can also come through. Some bonds are purely platonic, about ⅓ in total. Multiple soulmates are not unheard of, but rare, more common with platonic soulmates. 

Quickly about the reader - mercenary/gunman/thug for hire. Great shot with pretty much any gun, has two knives as backup weapons, has fought with swords before. Looks wise he has hair and is shorter than Wade and Logan, but I try to keep no specific height in mind while writing. Has a few scars scattered over his body, but nothing specific as of yet. Does not want a soulmate, thinks it just leaves people vulnerable. Lives on his own in an apartment he owns and is content with his life.

All you were, really, was hired help.

All you were supposed to do was stand around and look scary with a few other tugs in a warehouse with high shelves stacked with crates, while your employer (a generous word for the drug dealer that hired you) met with another drug dealer.

It had gone tits up the second a man wearing a red and black spandex suit and katanas on his back of all things came crashing through a window.

You had dived for cover, because there are gunshots ringing out in the milliseconds after the glass shatters. You curse, reaching for your gun, with just one single 10 bullet magazine, because your stupid employer had insisted you only needed one when you asked for more. So to have something more you had your adamantium knives strapped to each thigh, hidden enough under your black joggers.

You curse under your breath, cause this is fucking awful. You hear gunshots over and over again, people are dying, wood from shipping crates are splintering, metal is hitting the floor. 

And there’s talking. 

Fucking talking.

“Come one guys, your aim is all off! Did none of you ever train on the neighborhood cats?”

Well, more like yelling. Because even though the warehouse wasn’t empty, it still had an echo. You are used to the loud sounds, it fuels your adrenaline as you peek out from behind the crate you are using as a shield.

The man, you are just going to call him Red for now, is flipping and bouncing between crates, avoiding any big hits. A few bullets graze an arm, but he doesn’t seem to take notice as his own bullets find their marks, bodies dropping around him. He’s nimble and quick about it, taking down guys from both sides with equal gusto, and you find yourself just watching him carefully. He’s almost elegant, light on his feet, and a jab or taunt spewing out of his mouth every few bullets. 

Careful not to alert Red or anyone else about your position, you shift, gun in hand watching him saunter over to your employer, the last man standing. Well, not really, since he’s down on his knees, begging for something incoherent while fat tears and snot roll down his face. 

“Newsflash asshole, I don’t care for your tragic backstory that the writer won’t let you talk about.” Red raises his gun, one last loud bang filling the warehouse before it’s quiet once again.

“Last fucking one, my counting skills once again making me win.” Red claps his hands together, before moving his hands to his hips, looking around the warehouse. “What a fucking mess.” He shakes his head, and you see your opportunity now that he thinks it’s all over.

You move up, pulling the trigger as soon as your gun is aimed right. Red doesn’t even get to turn before six bullets go through his chest, two through his throat, and the last two finding their mark in his skull. You shouldn’t use all your bullets on one target like that, but still you do.  Red drops like a sack of potatoes, and you draw a sigh of relief, lowering your gun as you too look around the warehouse. You’re glad it’s far away from anything else, because it should take at least a few hours before the cops are alerted, and by that time you would be far away from this warehouse that is by now covered in blood, bullet casings, and dead men.

Your earlier relief turns into utter confusion as you hear shuffling, and when you turn back towards where Red’s body is, you see him shake his head where he lays crumpled on the floor, and seconds later he’s on his feet with a groan.

“Okay, good shot whoever that was.” You gape, words slipping out of your mouth without meaning to.

“What the fuck.” Red’s head snaps towards you.

“Oh, there you are.” His voice is light, almost like he’s halfway into song. “I would return the favor, but I’m fresh out of bullets so this will have to do.” He pulls out the katanas strapped to his back. You grab your knives, managing, somehow by the grace of whatever runs this universe, to bring it out just in time to block both katanas that were coming at you in tight formation.

“Oh so you weren’t just happy to see me.” Red jokes, and though you can’t see his face under the mask, you are pretty sure he is grinning. You grunt, because there is no way for your brain to form words as you parry another attack from him, retreating.

You are in no position to attack, so all you do is stop his, and try to escape, backing off. Or rather, you try to, but Red is not letting up, so all you end up doing is walking backwards through the warehouse in a vague path between boxes and shelves as he attacks. 

He manages to get a few slashes here and there to connect, but they are shallow, just enough to draw blood and sting. One on your left arm, two on your right arm, three on your left leg. You wonder if amounts are on purpose. He seems to take it all as encouragement, laughing, keeping up his quick attacks. 

You don’t know you hold out, breathing heavy, arms and hands hurting with how you are clutching and shielding with your knives like your life depends on it. 

Because it 1000% fucking does, that’s why you manage.

Red finally lets up, just enough that you can create some space between the two of you. You don’t dare to actually turn and run, certain he has no moral code of cutting down someone from behind. So you just try to slowly create even more room between the two of you as you watch for his next attack.

“Oh I am having fun!” Red tries to clap, but he just knocks the hilts of his katanas together. “Though we are just a little unevenly matched here.” He sounds like he’s breathing just a little bit harder at least, even though there are no cuts next to the bullet holes riddling his suit. He tilts his head for a moment, then bends down, and then there’s a katana sliding over the floor, bumping into your boot. You look down at it, before looking back up at him.

“Come on, pick it up.” Shifting your knives into one hand, you keep your eyes on the white eyes of his mask as you bend down and pick up the sword. 

“Oh yeah, look at me during.” You ignore his comment, feeling the weight of the katana in your hand. It’s heavy, but perfectly balanced, feeling perfect as you spin it in your hand a few times, the hilt still warm from Red’s earlier hold. 

“Hot.” Red says as he twirls his second katana, mimicking you. Once more ignoring him, you put your knives back in their sheats. “Do you have them there to distract your enemies by making them think you are going to jerk off mid-battle?” You snort.

“No, they are there so they are more hidden, and more difficult to grab.”

“If you wanted my hands in your pants all you had to do was ask, baby.” You think Red is winking at you through the mask. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Shut the fuck up.” With both of your hands on the hilt of the katana, you are ready to defend yourself from his first attack.

“Ohhh, you remind me of someone. I think the two of you would get along, he’s also a man of few words. Maybe I’ll let you live so you can meet him and fight him too, more material for my spank bank.” He definitely winks this time, then you are defending yourself from another attack from him. It pushes you backwards, again, but this time, you are able to attack back.

Though you can’t help but wonder if he’s letting you, just indulging you. Because you can feel how strong he is when you parry his strikes, you felt how strong he was when all you had was your knives.

It’s a dance, a dance he lets you participate in as you block, attack, block, attack, block. Redirecting his sword coming for your throat so it splinters wood instead of flesh.

“How did you learn to fight like this?” Wade asks, almost spinning as his energy is redirected away from your body. He is at least breathing a little heavier, and for some reason, you find yourself having a little fun, even though you think you know how this is going to end.

“I was a loser in high school. What about you?” You speak through gritted teeth, the sound of metal on metal filling the warehouse as you block another attack. You don’t even know why you ask him back, but it feels right.

“Something similar.” It’s still kinda hard to tell, but you think he grins under his mask as you attack back.

You do get a few cuts in, deep enough that it slices through his suit and the skin underneath, but it leaves you with little satisfaction as you see the cuts heal in seconds. Though at least his suit can’t fix itself, growing more tattered by the minute as new slashes and old bullet holes make a mess of it.

“So you are not just a pretty face, there’s some skills there.” You frown, anger flaring, and you are about to say something, but with a quick move that you have no opportunity to block, and that  truly demonstrates the difference between the two of you, he nicks you with just the tip of the katanta, just on the left corner of your mouth. You startle, but on instinct your tongue goes out to lick at the blood now sliding down to your skin. It just gives you more motivation to strike back, a big one that leaves behind what could almost be called a titty window on his chest, showing textured skin underneath.

“Ohhhh, freaky.” Red taunts, slicing your chest too, though your skin doesn’t heal when metal connects after slicing through your shirt like air. You curse, adrenaline causing your ears to roar, and the world to go a little fuzzy at the edges. You touch your chest, fingers coming back bloody, watching Red. Your own katana pointing towards the floor, ready, but down as you breathe heavily.

“Leaving yourself all open for me? You shouldn’t have.” Red coos, and that is what you are counting on. Letting him attack you straight on, thinking you have given up, so you can shove the katana through his skull, killing him again, and leaving you at least a few moments to high tail it out of there.

It’s what the plan is.

It does not work out like you intend it to.

It goes in a whole new direction.

Because when he comes close enough, you manage to get a hold on his shoulder, which gets you a hopefully not deadly slice over your abdomen for your efforts. You are moving quickly, seconds away from stabbing the katana through the bottom of his jaw. But then your fingers touch a bare spot on his shoulder where his suit had gotten torn, and there’s a sparkler going off in your brain, a sizzling sensation that settles in the back of your head as feelings of excitement, adrenaline, and happiness that are not your own speeds through your mind.

You gasp out loud.

You can’t help yourself.

Because you know what that was.

And there is no fucking way.

WHAT. THE. ABSOLUTE. 

FUCK.

Fucking no.

A soulmate.

You have a fucking soulmate??????

And this is how you fucking meet him????

In all of your turmoil, you have dropped the katana that was destined to go through Red’s skull. He is a few paces behind you, not immediately attacking, just watching you as you turn around in your now mostly frozen state.

“Wh-”

“Touch me.” Red blinks, owlishly even with the white eyes of his mask.

“Wow, so forward. You know, con-” 

“Shut the fuck up.” You march over to him, and in what seems to be confusion he lets you tug the glove of his hand that is not holding his katana. You interlace your fingers, the motion absurdly tender for the moment that is currently playing out. You see his eyes widen behind the mask, and you are sure his mouth opens and closes several times even hidden as it is.

“What the fuck.” The words are so soft out his mouth that you are not even sure he said them. Not that it matters, because a second later he is wrenching his hand back like you burned him. He runs past you, and you watch as he picks up his katana where you dropped it, and then keeps running after that brief slowdown, heading towards a door you hadn’t noticed while you were fighting. You startle yourself into action finally, following him, but he’s out the door before you can reach him.

On the other side there’s a hallway, and his back is quickly retreating, and all you feel is panic. You are not sure which of you it is coming from.

You try to keep up with him through multiple hallways, but he’s fast, getting out of the building before you do. It’s enough of a headstart that you only see backlights and hear the roar of a motorcycle speeding away.

You run over to where the cars you all arrived in earlier are parked, but of fucking course all tires are slashed. Not like you had any of the keys anyway, but they would have been easy enough to find in some dead man's pockets.

“Fucking MOTHERFUCKER!” You know he can’t hear you, but you hope Red feels your frustration through your bond as you punch the hood of a car, denting the metal.

(Part 2)

[shiningmystic]

Close your eyes and pick a numbered flower:

PAC - 🧲 what attracts people to you?/what do people find attractive about you?

🍀⚘❁

Welcome to my short and sweet PAC reading, hope you enjoy your stay! If you did reblog to spread the reading, like or tip, Thank you stars. Don't be afraid to pick a second pile or even all of them; let me know what you picked! Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t ❤️

[Ko-fi]

Flower One: Queen of wands (rx), King of Wands (rx), The sun (rx), Two of pentacles, The Fool, Five of cups (rx)

For the people who pick pile one I see your anger and strong personality as the first thing that draws people to you. The rage within you is a powerful thing, the injustice and the empty-headed people who surround you only make this side of you worse. I see plenty of attractive things like your maturity, and yet you also have a really fun side that's equally attractive; you’re gorgeous when you relax btw. I see this balance of sass and feistiness paired well with the fun and free side. Some of you are jokesters, making people laugh will always draw them in, very flirty energy even if you’re not trying. You look like you have your life together even if you don't, you may give off this energy of always having the answer but it’s more like you know what you can do and you’re confident in yourself or at least in your abilities. You always seem to handle things with grace as you go through life; people see this about you and are like, wow (I’m getting you have a lot of admirers).

I can see a few rebels in here, lots of different clothing styles in this pile and enjoying your self-expression; you enjoying yourself is just breathtaking. I see people also think your attractive even when you are in a negative mood which is interesting (resting bitch face?); maybe it's more like they (people around you) see your layered personality plus how you handle situations so maturely yet still so you. I'm also getting a message of you being able to call out something for what it is. You candidly pointing out someone's lies is suuuuuper admirable thanks for existing. Just to add if you don't think you're attractive the energy says otherwise; much thirst from your admirers in this pile, that’s all I'm saying.

Flower Two: Ace of Pentacles, Seven of pentacles (rx), Page of wands (rx), High priestess (rx), Nine of wands (rx), Ten of pentacles (rx)

There is a natural magnetic energy that comes from you. I see with a steady hand and some time investment you attract everything pretty easily but I can see this slow taking your time thing being a bit difficult for you because you are an excitable person or at least with the things that interest you. With this, people find very endearing, I’m getting your charming in your own way. There is a naivety here, a pure fun and positive person. You are a light bulb in a room, someone different and refreshing to experience and this is what makes you magnetic to many people. I cannot see what you do exactly, but there is this passive charm I keep having to mention. I also see a giver, someone who is thoughtful and considerate.

I feel like a lot of the people who have picked this pile have a bit of a lack of awareness at times when it comes to social stuff (maybe like cues or just not reading the room right). This is an attractive trait because it means you have no ulterior motive, people may read you pretty clearly and know you mean no harm; someone you can let your guard down with, that is you. This can be charming, but this can also attract the wrong people too so be aware. You are a magnet to many types of energies which just gives me a peak of how many types of people picked this pile but also gives me the vibes of intuitives and psychics; this is the mixed bag pile for sure so remember to just take what resonates.

I see a stubborn streak with half of you, someone who won't back down which is similar to the first pile; Both piles won't turn away from something that is in their way but for you it’s more about defending the ones closest to you. These things make you magnetic to others and they want to open you up. I see a down to earth person, someone who cares and wants to learn but also can sympathize. Ok Ok, some of you are shy, people who feel restricted when trying to connect with others but that is ok, you do have attractive traits, and your voice deserves to be heard. huh, it's kinda silly that even when you try to stay unseen people still see you.

Flower Three: Three of wands (rx), Five of cups, Nine of swords, Three of cups, Six of cups (rx), Page of swords (rx)

So, I am instantly getting that even with the burdens in the past you seem to always bring joy and love to the people you surround yourself with; similar vibes to pile two but you are way more active and try to show your love and care through actions. You're a person who lives in the moment, a great listener and partier all at the same time. I keep hearing someone saying you are a great friend and have a trustworthy opinion because you give unbais straight thoughts even if you have your own opinion you don't just stay ignorant, you hear and listen to truth. I see you take accountability for the things you say and do, holy crap that is so attractive to read haha. You are a fair person and try your best which is all anyone could ask of you, this humble yet thoughtful energy makes a lot of sense if a heavy past has shaped you.

It's interesting to see a duality in this pile, what I see is a person who can let go and have fun in the moment enjoying their friends and the ones they love yet also able to reflect and understand deep dark concepts about reality, philosopher energy. I see you may not show everyone every part of you and may be shy but some of you just don't see the need for everyone to see what you're doing with your life which brings a mystery energy, this draws people too you believe it or not. There may be some smart mouth people in this pile who enjoy dark humor. Interesting to see this as something others around you are attracted to. I don't think your hardcore dark humor (maybe some of you are), but I see you being able to crack a joke about hardship and the bull that has happened in life because it's a way you let go and heal. Healing looks different for everyone, you know who you want in your space and that is something respectable and a sign of an intelligent person.

- ShiningMystic 🦢

Only decks used were the original Rider-Waite Tarot Card Deck

[rafesheaven]

what would reader do if one of the women rafe used to dom was jealous that she was the only one he had an arrangement with after a while and “warned” her that he was going to get tired of her eventually just like he had with everyone else

nonnie, i like this question & i'm kissing your brain, this is v much yelling soft!dom!rafe to me

rafe had every single woman that he's been with completely obsessed with him, not only because of how good he is in bed but they liked the fact that he was successful, they were simply just using him for sex, in hopes of it becoming a more permanent situation.

you didn't think much of how your arrangement with rafe affected anyone until you stepped into the elevator one night, heading to the upper level of his apartment.

a woman enters the elevator and you give her a small smile. it's quiet between the two for a few seconds before you hear, "you're the one that's been going in and out of rafe's apartment, right?" the woman doesn't hesitate to ask.

your eyebrows furrow, clearly confused as to who the woman is but before you can even respond, the woman cuts you off, "you know, he's just going to get bored of you, right?".

"excuse me?" was all you could say. "look, just trust me when i say that rafe will get bored of you pretty quickly. i'm just trying to warn you" the woman shrugs. "you know, woman to woman" she adds.

"what makes you think that he'll get bored of me?" you scoff, "i was once in the same position as you are in, and look where that left me. i'm not the only one that he got tired of and you surely won't be the last".

as the elevator comes to a halt, stopping on rafe's level, you're quick to get off, the last thing you hear before the doors close on her is, "just take my advice and leave him before he gets bored and leaves you".

as you make your way to his apartment, the entire conversation continues to run through your head and it’s not until his door opens when you’re thoughts dissipate, at least, for a few minutes.

he grins as he greets you but he immediately notices the way you seem to be stuck in your thoughts, making his smile drop, “hey, what’s goin’ on?”. the next few words that leave your mouth end up leaving him shocked, “i think we should end this…whatever this is”.

he takes in a deep breath, “what? what are you talkin’ about?”. anxiousness is practically dripping from your words, your forefingers digging at your thumbs. you chew on your lip, avoiding eye contact with him, “whatever this arrangement is that we have, i wanna end it”.

he was spewing out questions, trying to find an answer, “end it? am I being too rough? did I hurt you last time?”. all you could was shake your head, “no…” there was a pause, “it’s better if we end things now before you get bored of me”.

his face softens, his hands immediately cupping your face, “hey, look at me”, making you look up at him. “call me selfish all you want but i don’t want things to end. I don’t know where this is coming from but I could never get bored of you”.

“i don’t wanna end things because i want you and only you” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek. rafe leans down, his face inches away from yours, his lips just merely hovering over yours before pressing against yours.

he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, “how could i ever get bored of you when you’re always on my mind. every single second of the day, all i think about is you”

tagging: @oceandriveab / @babygorewhore / @xxbimbobunnyxx / @sturnioloshacker / @starkeyisthelastname / @rafecameroninterlude / @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles / @redhead1180 / @rafeinterlude / @crvptidgf / @drudyslut / @amandabbbbb / @starkeysheart / @flvredcas / @fae-of-prey / @nemesyaaa / @emilysuperswag / @kisses4angel / @eddieslut69 / @rafesthroatbaby / @lilacheavenn / @rafescurtainbangz / @ihe4rttwd / @peterpan-neverfails / @hallecarey1 / @heartsforvin / @hyperfixationgirl / @eternalbuckley / @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account / @native2princess

taglist ⇢︎ masterlist ⇢︎ stargazing (thoughts)

[museanddream]

Heaven - part 3 || Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x reader

Warnings: 🔞 || threesome, poly relationship, fingering, strap-ons, degrading language, bottom!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Part 3 of 3

Part 1 || Part 2

Ona’s hands on your hips guide you to shuffle slightly further up the bed so that your face is closer to Lucy’s sweat-sheened stomach than her pussy, but she keeps the toy sheathed inside you and you feel every movement tenfold.

“Ona, please,” you whine.

“Shh, you’ll come,” Lucy soothes you with a low voice and her hand cradling the back of your head. “Ona’s gonna make sure of that. D’ya know why?”

If the answer is supposed to be obvious, your mind is too lust-clouded to figure it out. You slowly shake your head as much as Lucy’s hand in your hair will allow.

Lucy is more than happy to supply the answer herself.

“Because I told her to. And Ona’s a good girl. Ona does what I ask her to, when I ask her to do it. Without mouthing off.”

“You asked me to make you come,” you point out, desperate for Lucy’s praise, or at least a hint that she’s pleased with your efforts. “I did that.”

“Suppose you did,” Lucy acknowledges, her hand coming down to stroke your cheek. Her fingers tighten slightly against your jaw, and she adds, “But only after being a brat.”

Behind you, Ona’s slight body curls around your back, hot skin pressed against your own as her voice appears close to your ear.

“Ready, cariño?”

You have to try not to snort. It’s a ridiculous question, you’ve been ready for what feels like hours.

“Give it to her,” Lucy instructs. “You don’t need to be gentle.”

As her hips start to move, Ona isn’t gentle. Gone is the care from before, now the way she fucks into you can only be described as primal. There’s a slap of skin each time she bottoms out inside you, her fingers digging into your hips as she holds you still so she can drive the toy into you.

“She fucks you so well, doesn’t she?” Lucy asks, a hint of pride in her voice as she watches on.

Ona times a particularly deep thrust with you opening your mouth to respond and all that leaves your throat is a particularly debauched cry that will surely leave you hoarse tomorrow. You’re not even coherent enough to feel any shame for the sounds escaping your mouth, let alone to hold a conversation with Lucy while Ona fucks you.

“Answer me,” Lucy growls, tugging at your hair to lift your head to look at her.

“Yes,” you manage to choke. “So good.”

Lucy relinquishes her grip and your head falls forward as you put all your effort into staying in place for Ona.

“How does she feel?” Lucy asks.

For a couple of seconds, you think Lucy’s question is aimed at you again, until Ona answers.

“Good.”

“Tight?” Lucy asks.

“Not anymore,” Ona grunts with the effort of talking while fucking you. “But she’s also just really wet.”

“Course she is. Little slut.” A pause, then Lucy adds, “Come on, give it to her.”

If you had the capacity to string enough words together to form a sentence, you’d tell Lucy that Ona is already giving it to you. Yet Ona surprises you by somehow finding another energy reserve to fuck into you harder. The cock hits so deep inside you with every thrust that you think Ona might actually be trying to fuck you into another dimension.

You manage just a few thrusts like that before you can no longer hold yourself up, arms giving way until your cheek rests on Lucy’s warm stomach and your hips are almost flat to the bed, except for the pillow cushioned beneath them.

Ona falters for just a second as you move, then readjusts her own position, covering your back with her own body as she continues to rut into you. Meanwhile one of Lucy’s hands finds your head again, careful fingers sweeping loose tendrils away from where they’re plastered to the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

“Good girl,” Lucy says, and for the first time since you disobeyed her earlier, there’s a glimmer of warmth in her voice, like she’s almost proud of the way you take everything that they give you. “Taking it so well. Letting Ona fuck you like this. You just love being used, don’t you?”

As much as your earlier pride might have told you to argue back, you do like this. Lucy’s hand in your hair, Ona’s body pressed against your back. It’s comforting to have them both so close, freeing to be able to trust them both so wholeheartedly with your pleasure, to be able to give up control and forget about training and schedules and media for a while.

To be fucked by them, wanted by them, loved by them.

Yet all you manage to choke out is a raspy, “Uh huh.”

Ona’s thrusts are shallower now, the new position against your back not allowing for much more than that. But her movements are still quick and from the little noises she lets out, her breath escaping in hot puffs against your back, you know it must be working for her too, the position pushing the base of the strap against her clit.

Your own clit needs something more and you whine into Lucy’s stomach as you attempt to grind down on the pillow below your hips for some stimulation, but it’s not enough.

“Ona…”

Ona knows your body so well that you don’t need to say anything more for her to know exactly what to give you. Her hips stall for just a second as she adjusts to slip her hand between your body and the pillow, skilful fingers finding your clit as her hips resume.

Each rut inside you has you grinding against Ona’s hand, pleasure building inside you until you know the coil is going to snap.

You nuzzle your face into Lucy’s stomach but she has other ideas, using the hand in your hair to turn and lift your head.

“Stop that,” she murmurs, though her voice is far from scolding. “Told you I wanna see you when you come. Go on. Come for us.”

Lucy’s permission is all it takes for you to hurtle over the edge. Her hand in your hair is what stops the fall from being fatal. She keeps you present as the pleasure tears through your body, Ona’s thrusts into you never relinquishing even as you flutter and clench around the toy. The orgasm feels eternal, or maybe the first one bleeds into a second when Ona’s hips stumble as she slips off the precipice with you, grinding out her own climax with a beautiful cry that gets muffled into the skin of your shoulder.

When it finally subsides, when the pleasure numbs you and you finally stop trembling, Ona’s body still limply pressed against your back, it’s Lucy’s gravelly voice that brings you back to reality.

“Fucking hell. That was something. Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of watching you two together. My gorgeous girls.”

You’re vaguely aware of Ona pressing her lips against your shoulder blades, of Lucy’s hand now caressing your cheek, but you’re too blissed out to open your eyes just yet.

“You okay?” Lucy asks.

You don’t know who the question is aimed at but let Ona answer it.

“Uh huh.” There’s a pause, another gentle kiss against your shoulder, then the low rumble of Ona chuckling against your back as she adds, “I think we broke her.”

“Need a moment,” you mumble, eyes still closed but turning your head to nuzzle into Lucy’s palm.

There’s a shift behind you and you let out a soft cry as Ona withdraws the toy, your cunt spasming around nothing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Sorry,” Ona whispers, trailing kisses up your spine until she can press her face into your neck. “How about a bath?”

“I’ll go run one,” Lucy pipes up, carefully slipping out from under you and padding away towards the bathroom. Seconds later, you hear the running water start to hit the tub.

Ona carefully rolls you onto your back and you blink open your eyes to watch as she expertly loosens the straps and lets the harness slide down her legs and onto the floor with a thud, before she curls into your side.

“That was good for you too, right?” you ask, as Ona’s arm snakes around your middle and one of her legs hooks over your hips.

Ona’s body shakes a bit as she laughs, then she answers in a low voice, “Did you miss the part where I came inside you?”

Another tremor through your over sensitive cunt. You have no idea if Ona knows how filthy what she just said sounds, or if it’s just a quirk of the translation. Either way, you’re exhausted and you let it slide for now.

“No, I felt it,” you assure her. “Just making sure.”

“It was good for you too, no?”

You turn your head and arch a lazy eyebrow at Ona as if to ask her seriously? Her face cracks open into a pretty smile.

“Just making sure,” she echoes your words back to you teasingly. “Lucy might not be so kind next time though.”

“That was kind?” you scoff.

“We both know she’s capable of worse. I thought for a second she might not let you come at all.”

You pull Ona closer and press your lips absently to her forehead as you hum in agreement.

“So did I.” You poke Ona in the ribs, forcing a little yelp from her lips. “And you wouldn’t help me out if that happened. Not when you’re sucking up to her.”

“It’s not sucking up, it’s avoiding punishment,” Ona teases you, poking you back.

“You just like being her good girl.”

“You’re both my good girls.” Lucy’s voice calls out across the room and you glance up to see her head peering around the door to the ensuite. Her lips curl up into a smirk, then she adds, “Some of the time, anyway.”

Ona pushes herself up onto her elbow, leaning down to capture your lips in a lingering kiss, then nudges you towards Lucy.

“Go and have your bath. I’ll clean up here.”

She kisses you once, twice, three times more, then rolls off to let you go.

Inside the bathroom, the tub is full of bubbles and Lucy has lit a few candles. She flicks off the tap as you enter, then lowers her head in a goofy bow as she gestures towards the bath and says, “M’lady.”

“Join me?” you ask, shooting her a pleading little pout as you step into the hot water.

Lucy is quick to nod and soon you’re settled against her chest, her knees bracketing yours as you sit together amongst the bubbles. Her arms slink around your waist from behind and though you didn’t invite her to join you with the intention of fooling around, it doesn’t take long for her hands to start to wander, first up to your nipples, then one dips lower between your legs.

You’re still a little sensitive, but you let your knees fall open as far as the constraints of the tub and Lucy’s legs either side of you will allow.

“Again?” Your voice slips into a gasp as Lucy’s fingers find your clit.

She moves the hand on your breast up to sweep your hair over one shoulder, then nuzzles her lips into the newly exposed skin of your neck.

“You were the one begging us to make you come twenty minutes ago. I reckon you can handle another one.” Her voice is low and you feel the rumble of it against your back as her fingers start to paint delicate circles around your clit. “Anyway, s’not fair that Ona got to be inside you and I didn’t.”

“I wasn’t the one stopping you,” you remind her. “Fuck, Luce, just like that.”

Two of Lucy’s fingers slide into you easily after being stretched open by Ona’s cock for so long. You’re still sensitive from before and you don’t think it’ll take long to come again, not with Lucy’s body wrapped possessively around you, not with the way her teeth catch lightly against the delicate skin of your neck, and especially not with the way she curls her fingers inside you. The angle from behind makes it hard for her to thrust into you properly but it’s still working for you, the pressure building once again as her fingers work inside you.

“Again, huh?”

You hear Ona’s amused voice in the doorway behind you, but you’re too focused on the wicked things Lucy’s fingers are doing to you to be able to open your eyes and look at her.

Instead, you manage to gasp out, “Lucy started it.”

“You’re not complaining though, are ya?” Lucy asks.

You slowly roll your hips into her hand as her fingers move inside you.

“Fuck no.”

“You gonna join us?” Lucy asks Ona, as she withdraws her fingers and returns them to your clit, rubbing circles just above the hood that drive you crazy.

“Don’t think the tub is big enough for three,” Ona replies, stepping into the bathroom and lowering the lid of the toilet seat so she can sit down and enjoy the view. “But I’m happy to watch.”

You’re already embarrassingly close again, the thought of Ona spectating is enough to ensure that.

Lucy’s lips find the side of your neck once more, kissing where your pulse flutters at the crux of your jaw.

“You gonna come again for Ona, baby? To thank her for fucking you so nicely.”

It’s hard to believe the contrast between this Lucy, and the Lucy from earlier. The same Lucy who denies you orgasms, who calls you a slut when you politely ask to be allowed to come, who refers to a strap-on as hers even when its harness is attached to Ona’s hips, is almost offering your next orgasm to Ona as a gift despite being the one to make you come this time.

“I’m so close,” you whine. “Please, Luce.”

“You want me inside again?”

“No, just like this. I’m gonna come if you keep…”

“That’s it,” Lucy encourages you, as she keeps the pressure on your clit and sends her other hand up to shamelessly grope your tit. “Come for us, babygirl.”

It just takes a few more seconds, a few more touches, and you’re doing exactly like that, letting out a cry that echoes against the bathroom tiles as you tumble over the edge once more. It’s not as intense as the first one, numbed slightly by the earlier orgasm that almost tore your body apart, but just as pleasurable.

The water sloshes against the side of the tub as you sink back against Lucy’s chest, boneless, and she removes her hand from between your legs to wrap it around your middle instead.

“What d’ya think?”

“Beautiful.” Ona’s response to Lucy’s question is immediate. “I love watching you together.”

“I love you,” you mumble hazily. Your hand finds one of Lucy’s knees and squeezes, adding, “Both of you.”

“And I love how soppy you get when we’ve made you come so hard you can barely think,” Lucy chuckles against your back.

“Well, if you’re trying to stop me from ‘being a brat’, as you put it, I can’t say it’s working. That was all sorts of incredible.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie.” Lucy’s voice is low and dangerous, her hot breath against your neck sending a ripple of goosebumps down your spine. “I’ve got worse punishments lined up for next time you mouth off. We’re only just getting started with you.”