#reversible boxing trunks

[bakugoushotwife]

Just Being Neighborly

a/n: y'all gone need the holy water for this one... it was a lovely writing challenge from the one the only @getosbigballsack so if you something with similar themes don't freak out lol. this was super fun and i definitely got carried away LMFAOOO

cw: shew let's see um, threesomes, mfm but the men are involved briefly, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, anal, dirty talk, pet names, slight dacryphilia, size kink maybe? doggy and reverse cowgirl. unedited as usual, i probably missed something im sorry

wc: please im so embarrassed it's 9k

They still remembered the day that you moved in. It was a sunny Tuesday in the middle of the summer, the gentle breeze flowing into their townhouse while they sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch playing Fifa. The sounds of car doors shutting and the roll of suitcase wheels on the concrete sidewalk got Satoru’s attention. He pauses the game, and Suguru groans. The lanky young man trips over himself to lean over his best friend and roommate on the couch, peering out of the window. 

“Stop being so nosy and I was beating you.” The other man sighed, moving his long dark hair to his other shoulder so his companion didn’t lay on it. 

Gojo huffs in defense of himself, keeping his bespectacled eyes trained outside. Finally he sees you. You walk back to the sleek Cadillac in the shortest yellow polka dotted sundress in existence, cute white pumps elongating your bare legs even more so. He was drooling and he hadn’t even seen your face. “There’s a babe moving in!” He rejoices, maybe a bit too loud through the open frame.

 Suguru leans over to pull his mouthy friend out of the window, but you too, piqued his interest. The dress was tight, hugging every curve and accentuating your large bust and wide hips. You don’t notice them watching, too busy pulling boxes out of the trunk and setting them on the sidewalk for you to carry in. Satoru wonders what you do for a living. These were expensive townhouses, the two college students only lived there on the account of him being a trust fund baby. 

The more built of the two shoved the other male off his lap, but the lanky man saved himself from falling to the floor. “We should go help her, she shouldn’t carry all that herself.” Suguru suggests like the sweetheart he is. Satoru hums mischievously at the idea. 

“What a great idea, I’m sure the babe will be relieved to have two strong young men living so close!” He grins, elbowing his partner-in-crime. 

“Y/N, are you done yet?” A foreign voice thunders, the sound of dress shoes clack back out to the car, grabbing their attention. Soon a man in a suit comes into view, folding his arms at you. 

You sigh softly and paint your smile on. “Almost, dear. This one’s a bit heavy.” 

“Well you packed it all in there, so whose fault is that?” Your husband chuckles, though he’s not kidding. Satoru Gojo’s nose scrunches up.

“Blegh, he’s an asshole.” He sneered. 

This time, Suguru Geto had to concede to his best friend, the way the man spoke to you was awful, and he was making you carry everything? Disgusting, “Agreed.” 

Satoru gently slapped the other’s chest. “Then let’s go help the babe.” He said excitedly, to which his friend chuckled and shook his head at his eagerness, though he can’t wait to introduce himself to you. The two get up from the couch and slip into their shoes, beginning their descent down the lavish stone steps. He feels a pang of guilt, you’re clearly in a relationship of some sort, but the feeling soon subsides when he remembers his treatment of you. Men like that don’t deserve women like you. 

As if his closest friend could read his mind, he elbows him in the ribs. He’s got a cunning smile on his face, and Geto knows that he doesn’t care about your relationship either. If there was one thing you could count on Satoru for, it was unabashed boldness. 

“I’m thinking we swoop in right, save this pretty damsel in distress.” He wiggles his eyebrows, pulling his glasses down his nose to give his friend a knowing look. He quickly pushes them back up, though Suguru knows that won’t be the last time his companion will pull that stunt. “Or at least offer our strong shoulders to cry on while we carry all her things.” 

Suguru sighed. “Be normal, please, for once.” He pleaded, dark eyes narrowing at the smirk decorating his face. 

Satoru rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Sometimes Suguru was so annoying, and absolutely zero fun. If he had to seduce you himself so be it, but he wouldn’t let Geto sweep in later if he didn’t help. “I am normal, you’re the weak one.” He giggled, sticking his tongue out and scooting down the rest of the steps, smiling brightly once the sun warmed his skin. They stood on the same sidewalk as you, shyly observing you unpack the car. You seem frustrated with one box in the trunk, perhaps the same one you mentioned to your…heathen earlier. 

Gojo smirks, sharing a glance with the ever-stoic Suguru once more. Hands in pockets of his black basketball shorts, he wears that brazen grin all the way to the Cadillac. Suguru walks slowly after him, eyes trained on the ground ahead of him. He would have to be the gentleman to make up for Satoru’s lack of shame. 

The lanky man clears his throat, the summer sun behind him enshrining him in an ethereal glow. You turn to the stranger, taken aback by his almost unnerving beauty. He hooks his glasses on his tight black tee, grinning teeth shining as white as his shaggy white locks.His gaze is the clearest blue you’ve ever seen, you can see the clouds from above you reflecting in his matching sky colored eyes. You arch your brow, unsure what to make of his approach. Just as he’s about to speak, a second man appears. He’s not quite as tall, but his shoulders are broader and features warmer. He smiles softly, black eyes carefully analyzing you. He folded his arms over his chest, abs clearly defined beneath the opaque wife beater. He jutted his chin out to your boxes, but it’s the first visitor that speaks. 

“We noticed you could use some help, miss.” He smiles, icy stare shamelessly raking over your figure. Your cheeks warm under his gaze–no, surely it’s just this summer heat. You’re happily married, moving into these lovely townhomes because of your newlywed husband’s success as a District Attorney. Maybe he wasn’t the most attentive husband–or even the nicest, but he was paying your way and you didn’t have to lift a finger. He did right by you, so you tell yourself. But you must admit, the two young men were right. There was no way you could get that damn box out of the trunk, much less carry it all upstairs to your new dwelling. 

“Oh, well, yes actually. Thank you…?” You say, arching a perfect brow at them. Gojo nearly let out a dreamy sigh, your face was just as perfect as the rest of you. Your brows were immaculately manicured, lashes full and framing enchanting doe eyes that looked at them so expectantly. You were so tempting it was hard for even Suguru to be respectful, sweat beading at your chest so deliciously he had to readjust the gray sweats hanging low on his hips. Satoru hummed, amused by the scene. 

“I’m Satoru, this is Suguru. We live here!” He shared as if it were a treat just for you. 

Suguru stifled a groan. “It’s always nice to welcome new neighbors. May we ask your name?” He asks, leaning forward slightly. You leaned against the bumper of your car, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. They were handsome and not much younger than you if you had to guess. They were certainly capable of helping you carry these last few boxes. There was no harm in introducing yourself. So why did you feel so guilty?

“Oh, I’m Y/N Robertson, it’s lovely to meet you. I’ve been struggling with this box for a while!” You chuckle nervously, patting the offending weight and stepping out of the way for one of them to grab. The white-haired man nodded, showing no signs of regret, repeating your name aloud.

“Y/N Robertson. Was that jerk your husband?” He asks, the permanent glimmer of amusement twinkling in his eye. 

You gasp softly and Suguru’s eyes widen. “I apologize about him, he has issues. I think he was born without a filter.” Suguru apologized, glaring at his counterpart. 

Jerk? Is that too far off the mark? It had been such a stressful move, you did mostly everything yourself, your husband working fourteen hour days and refusing to lift a finger when he was around. You were mostly embarrassed that these two had noticed his treatment, not wanting their pity. “He’s…he’s just been busy with work. But yes, he is my husband.” 

Satoru clicked his tongue, walking forward to effortlessly lift the burden you had been struggling with for the past twenty minutes. “That’s a shame, Y/N. A princess like you doesn’t need to be carrying something like this. But don’t worry, we got ya.” He winks. 

You avert your gaze to the other man, almost seeking solace in his peaceful presence. He’s wearing a faintly smug expression as he lifts the stack of boxes on the sidewalk. Suguru only nods his agreement. “Which one’s yours?” 

You think about it, pulling out your phone to look at the paperwork.. “I’m sorry, I forgot, I’m pulling it up…” You mutter, taking your lip between your teeth. The men share a look. You were adorable. 

“Take your time, we’re fine.” Suguru insisted, giving you another warm smile. It soothes your nerves only slightly and stokes the fire elsewhere. 

Gojo nods. “Yeah, we’re super strong. Don’t worry.” He says, admiring your manicured nails tapping away at the screen of your device.

 You allow yourself to giggle at this, you could tell they utilized the location’s gym facility a lot. Satoru’s black shirt hugged him tightly, swells of his biceps bulging against the hems. He grins at the gift of your laughter, smirking at his friend. Suguru chuckled through his nose, shaking his head at how easily his roommate flustered you. You hiss in celebration.

“Yes! I found it, sorry. It looks like I’m in…408!” You say without realizing. Your innocent eyes blink up at the tall pillars that were your new neighbors and current assistants. Satoru looked like a kid in a candy shop, and Suguru smirked in silent celebration. 

“Right across the way from us. How divine.” Satoru chuckled, turning to make his way up the stairs with the weighty box. “It looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of us!” 

Suguru hummed. “I’m sure we’ll make great friends.” He said, slowly striding after the energetic man. You just padded behind them, watching Suguru’s back muscles glean with sweat, long hair swaying slightly as he trods along the steps. You felt ashamed, eyeing them this way, but it was hard to miss the way Satoru’s shirt rode up to reveal his own toned abdomen and white patch of hair leading to the shorts sliding down his slender hips. You bit your lip and averted your gaze, telling yourself it was just because of the growing wedge in your marriage. You just needed to escape their lingering gazes and deviant smugness. 

Later that evening, the men sat on the same couch that they discovered you on, deciding to play the long game. Your husband was a tool, you were practically in heat just from their eyes on you. It was clear he wasn’t giving you any of the things you really needed.

That was a year ago now, the two college boys are more than in your favor by now. You brought them a tupperware of muffins the very next day, and it kind of became your trademark. You took good care of them, bringing them dinner some nights and supposed “leftover” baked goods. They wondered if your husband even noticed that you started cooking for four. They found any and every excuse to visit you during your husband’s long workdays, often spending the entire afternoon with you. 

When they weren’t with you, they were thinking of you, talking to each other about what they would do when they could share you. They could hear everything through the thin walls, every fight you had, every tear you shed, every orgasm–though they could tell they were faked. It was painful, biding their time until they could make their move, just hoping that the moment presented itself soon. 

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait much longer. It was another regular day, the two were working on some household chores when a door–your door–slamming caught their attention, followed by crying and two voices screaming at each other. 

Satoru dropped the plate he was washing with wide eyes, scrambling for the peep hole. They’ve heard the arguments, but none of them had spilled into the hallway, or had been filled with such emotion on your end. This time it was your husband who cowered in front of you as you screamed and threw his things out of the home. 

“Cheating bastard! You cried, face reddened from all the stress, no doubt. Suguru turns the washing machine on and makes for the door too, fighting with Satoru to see. 

“Honey please–it was a one time—” 

“Oh don’t bother. She sent me everything! This is on the fucking news, you absolute ass!” You huff, shoving a suitcase into the hall. At that, Satoru scrambled to the couch, flipping on the television and pilfering through the channels until the news displayed the reason for such an argument. Even he was shocked, a cheating scandal for the ages. Suguru’s heart dropped as the reporter spoke:

“District Attorney Joel Robertson caught in a blazing hot scandal this evening. The other woman tells all! His secretary leaks the sex tapes–claiming this affair has been going on for years.”

“How could he cheat on her??” Satoru is puzzled, yet grateful. Your dumbass husband has finally given you a reason to leave. It was only a matter of guessing when you would bang on their door. 

Suguru sighs, he never wanted you to be hurt. He knows that Satoru isn’t necessarily thinking about it that way, though he can’t deny the twinge of excitement in the back of his mind. Your dollhouse of a marriage would be over, and he had the perfect idea for revenge. 

“Sex tapes, huh?” Suguru muttered, muscular body pressed into the door to watch your husband pick up all his things strewn about the hallway. He didn’t even look guilty, seemingly fine with your pained tears. You slammed the door in his face. 

“I never want to see you again! You’ll get papers soon!” You yelled from behind your door. Your husband rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah? Well good luck paying for a place like this with no job, you insufferable piece of work.Or finding anyone better than me.” ” He chuckled, the suitcase rolling down the marble hallway and your tears being heard loud and clear after Satoru clicks the TV off. 

“Sex tapes.” Satoru confirmed with the shake of his head. He realized how this had to be affecting you, pressing his face against Suguru’s to try and peek out of the peep hole for any movement within. “How horrible. The secretary’s an ugly anyway, they belong together.” He snorted.

Suguru side-eyed him. Satoru said every thought that crossed his mind, his friend was convinced, however it was hard to disagree with some of his wild statements. This was one of them. You were way out of your husband’s league. He treated you like garbage and then had the nerve to cheat after not even being able to please you? Disgusting. Vile. 

“Should we…?” Suguru poses aloud, not able to stand the sound of your cries much longer. 

Just as Satoru nods eagerly, your door flies open again. This time, you march right across the hallway, raising your pretty fist to knock on their door. Suguru’s lips part in surprise, but you hesitate to actually connect with the firm barrier between you and them. It was almost like the point of no return, the building tension that started the day you moved in would all come to a head if you crossed the threshold. 

You bit your lip, looking back at your entrance. Maybe you should just go back, you were just emotional and seeking out the only comfort you could think of, right?

Satoru flings the door open, not giving you the chance. You’re face to face with the two, realizing they probably saw everything. Your cheeks heat up, your raised hand slowly lowering to your side. You must look a mess, hair disheveled from the countless times you raked your hands through it, eyes red and puffy from crying, tear stains on your cheeks. You make a strangled sob noise, looking at them so sadly it pulls their heartstrings. 

Suguru steps forward, reaching for you. “We heard, we’re so sorry..” He says, and you can see his sympathy for you written in the warmth on his face. You put your hand in his, the feeling of human contact with someone who actually cared was almost enough to make you cry again. 

Satoru huffs, leaning against the doorframe. You’re almost caged between them, feeling their body heat radiating off. His face is embossed with displeasure, eyes darkened in the same way the sky does before a storm. “He’s a piece of shit. Doesn’t deserve someone like you anyway, sweetness.” He says with a look of disgust, shaking his head. 

Suguru covers your hand with his other one, dark eyes bouncing between yours, like he’s trying to figure out what you were thinking. Truthfully, you were embarrassed more than anything. It was one thing to be in a loveless marriage, it was another for that fact to be known across town thanks to your husband’s low morals and high notoriety. You would be a laughing stock. 

“I’m just…embarrassed! I’ll be known around town as his poor wife. I hate that, I don’t want their pity or laughter…just so embarrassing.” You mutter, looking toward the ground. The sentiment makes Satoru pout. Oh how he just wanted to comfort you, for Suguru to lead you into the apartment where you would stay with them forever. 

Suguru frowns. He could tell your tears weren’t for your broken heart, but your devastation. Your reputation on the line, betrayed by a man who had never treasured you. He glances at Satoru, who’s just staring at you with such longing the dark-haired man can’t take it. “We can help you embarrass him, if you’d like.” 

His eyes widen. The words fell from his lips before he could think the better of it, but now you’re looking at him with those pouty doe eyes in confusion, and Satoru has to save the day, picking up your other hand. 

“Yeah, he’s right. We’ve been listening to you fake orgasms for a year now. Dude has some nerve makin’ tapes like he knows what he’s doing. We could really show him.” Satoru chuckles, leaning down from the door frame. You can smell his cologne, something minty with almost a hint of chocolate. He does know what he’s doing, invading your senses like this. His warm body and gorgeous eyes that have been undressing you since the day that you moved in paired with his scent and touch was overwhelming in the best way. Especially with the firm but comforting grip that Suguru kept. His hands were calloused from hard work, cradling the softness of your hand like a newborn. He leans closer too, waiting for some sort of response from you. His dark hair fell in layers around his face, accentuating his strong jaw and cheekbones, pale pink lips smiling softly. He smells of bourbon and cinnamon and some sort of expensive shampoo, the two of them so different and beautiful in their own ways–and both wanting you. 

“What did you..have in mind?” You squeak, your neighbors and acquaintances grin at each other. You didn’t even question their eavesdropping, knowing that they’ve been craving you since that summer sunny day. 

Satoru hums in pretend thought. This was only for show, they had determined what they wanted to do moments ago when they shared that glance. “Make a sex tape of your own, with men that can actually make you cum.” He let a laugh out through his nose. 

Your eyes widen, you open your mouth to speak but find that you don’t know what to say. Have you had a few wet dreams about a moment like this? Maybe, but that didn’t take the surprise out of their reciprocal desire. You looked to Suguru to search for any hint of his friend teasing you, but the man only squeezed your hand and smiled smugly. He could sense your doubt, and it was precious. 

“He’s not joking. We’d love to help you get revenge, dear.” He doubled down, the air around you growing heavy and charged with an energy that made your stomach drop, butterflies replacing your insides. Satoru steps out of your way, and Suguru angles his body the same way. You can pass right between them and enter their townhouse. You nibble your bottom lip, a nervous habit they had picked up on. “No worries, though, if you don’t. We’re here for you irregardless.” Suguru adds on the end, not wanting you to think you must. They wanted you to want to. 

And Satoru sure hopes you do, his gray sweatpants growing tighter at the thought of having you today, and under such circumstances! They hadn’t considered making films with you when discussing their fantasies, but he was definitely down with the idea. He smiles and nods, taking his lip between his teeth to mirror your nerves, but his was anticipation.

Suguru is highly perceptive, he’s hoping you say yes if only for his best friend’s sake. You wrack your brain, you should say no. There’s no way that this can end well, but your desire has piqued. They were right, your husband was horrible at sex, and you’ve been wondering what Satoru’s slender hands would feel like on your body, thinking about Suguru’s sweet smile pressed into your skin instead. Your stomach tingles at the thought, and you know what you want. You want to give in to your desire, you want to be with the men that had actually taken care of you for close to a year, and you wanted your soon to be ex-husband to see how good they could make you feel. 

You take a deep breath and squeeze through their bodies to enter their home. It was clean, like always. They tried to be better about that when you started eating dinner with them. You set your phone down on the table, taking a seat on their couch to blink at them expectantly. 

They shared another look, but this one was one of surprise. There you were, in their house waiting for them to fuck you. They had dreamed of this, and now it was happening. Gojo wastes no time, smirking and coming back inside, pulling Suguru in with him and shutting the door. You don’t miss the sound of the lock clicking, though it made you giggle at his eagerness. He takes his shirt off to avoid having to do it later, and you bite down on your lip again. Though this time it’s because he’s incredibly sculpted, as lean as he is. 

His skin is pale and scarred, you wonder from what, but it only added to his beauty. Every muscle was defined, down to his v-line. You can’t help but notice the ache in his pants, and you nearly sigh dreamily. It’s almost embarrassing how your core throbs, and this was just one of the two. Suguru picks Satoru’s shirt up off the floor, setting it on the coffee table instead. He takes a seat on the couch next to you, and you fight the urge to request his shirt be removed as well. You smile shyly at him, and he chuckles, reaching his hand out to hold your chin. “We’re gonna take good care of you, baby.” He insists, thumbing at your bottom lip. 

Your eyes stare up at him expectantly, taking in the lustful gaze he finally reveals. His dark eyes become half-lidded and focused on your pout. “Can I kiss you sweet girl?” He asks, sharp brow arched. 

You nod eagerly, feeling the cushion on your other side dip with the weight of the other male. He must have set up the camera, surely he wouldn’t allow Suguru to beat him to the punch. Much to your surprise, he only sets his hand on your hip, leaning forward for a better view of his best friend’s mouth covering yours. Geto’s lips are rough like his hands, in a good way. His tongue is warm as it laps over yours, his large hand still holding your jaw. You can feel Satoru’s hands knead at your thighs, but he’s not protesting. He doesn’t even protest when Suguru’s other large hand slips under your ass to pull you up into his lap. He just scoots closer to keep you sandwiched between hard bodies. 

“Yeah this is hot.” Satoru groans, palming himself over his pants when Suguru gently hikes your skirt up so he can access more skin, his thick fingers digging into your doughy flesh. You could feel his lips curl into a smile at his friend’s encouragement, kissing you harder. Your senses were overwhelmed, though you expected and wanted that. He tasted so good, letting your tongue dominate his just for the enjoyment. He nearly chuckles at your eagerness, it seems their desire wasn’t one sided. Your hands tug at his shirt, so he lets you catch your breath so he can yank it off.  “Ah, you gotta match us, angel.” Satoru grins, nimble fingers playing with the hem of your tank top. 

You blush, knowing you have no bra beneath. It was still too hot to wear layers, though your body felt like it was at the highest temperature it had been in a while. You’re so pretty, Suguru thinks, watching you peel your tank top off, bare chest to them. Your tits were perfect, nipples hardening before their very eyes. Satoru groaned, reaching to cup one of your breasts. Suguru’s lips latch onto your neck, his hands still kneading at your thighs. You can feel your cunt dampen as Satoru dives forward, sucking your pebbled bud in between his teeth. You gasp softly at the sensation, Suguru’s eyes open, watching his roommate fondle your tits and feeling you writhe in his lap only made his hardness nestle into your side, making you gasp again. Both of them were going to be huge, and you didn’t know how you would be able to handle it. 

Suguru snaps you out of your thoughts, rotating you in his lap just a little. Your back was flush against his chest, the skin almost burning where you connected. His muscles made you feel like you were sitting against a wall. If not for his warmth and the bulge settled in between your asscheeks, you may have thought you were. Satoru hums, pleased with having more access to you, his tongue swirling your sensitive bud. His fingers pinch the other, the slight pain sending shockwaves through your body, causing you to arch into his mouth. 

Geto chuckles, his hands still stroking gentle paths from your thighs to your hips, where nothing but your skirt stopped him. He arched his brow, jerking the fabric to sit around your waist. “No panties either, sweet girl?”

Satoru pulled away from your chest at this, a thin string of saliva stringing from his plump pink lips to your breast. “Oh dollface, I’m beginning to think you got ready for us.” He chuckles, the sound bright and bubbly as he scoots back on the couch to gaze at your newly revealed pussy. Your head spins from the way they look at you, like you’re a precious jewel. You feel drunk on the mix of their touches, where one was sweet and warm the other was rougher and icy. Suguru continues to press sporadic kisses to your neck and shoulders, trying to find your sweet spots. You whine so darling when he finds them, he can’t help but smirk to his best friend as your eyes flutter shut from the simple pleasure of him kissing your neck and the white-haired boy’s grip on your knees to spread your legs. He groans at the sight of your slick cunt, nodding to Geto. 

“She’s soakin’ Sugu. Hope you don’t mind but I gotta taste.” He hummed, his svelte fingers spread your lips apart and you shiver from the cold air being blown on your center. Satoru giggles, you were so cute like this, wiggling on Suguru’s lap and craving more of them by the second. 

Suguru nodded his permission, obsidian eyes locked on his friend’s sapphire ones. He thought the boy’s excitement was adorable, and yearned to watch the enjoyment of both of you. The lanky boy cooed his happiness and leaned forward to lick a fat stripe down your center, moaning at the taste. Your head fell back on Geto’s shoulder, hand flying to tangle up in white tresses. He giggles again, relishing the way your body responds to him. He does it again, humming at the intense lust in Suguru’s eyes and your sweet gasp. 

“Stop playing.” Suguru warned, biting marks into your skin to give you some pressure and pleasure since his counterpart wanted to toy with you. 

Gojo pouted, but you nodded your head in agreement. “No fun.” He huffed, but dipped his head down to your core for the count this time. You didn’t want him to tease? Fine. He won’t. But just remember that you asked for it. His tongue plunges in your weeping hole, his fingers assisting him in drawing circles around your clit. You moan softly, body jolting at the sudden intensity. Your hips rolled, fucking yourself on the muscle. 

Suguru hums at the sight, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from moving too much. It was clear your ex didn’t know how to treat you sexually, either. You feel his warm breath in your ear, Satoru’s fingers replacing his tongue, pushing his long fingers straight to your spongy spot. Your vision spots from that alone, not to mention his lips suckling your nerves. Suguru watches every move, impossibly turned on by the two of you together. 

“You’re so beautiful with his mouth on you like that, sweetheart. Do you like it?” He coos, collecting all your hair and brushing it over your shoulder so he could see all of your perfect face. You nod quickly, and Suguru chuckles, a deep rumble that you can feel in his chest against your back. He realizes that you’ve lost the ability to speak just from Satoru. It’s sweet, but he knows you’re in for one hell of a time. 

“You sure you can handle both of us, dear? I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He asks, eyes focused on the animalistic way Satoru devours you. His mouth was a mess of your arousal, tongue swiping his lips to keep your taste. 

You were already overwhelmed, but it was the best feeling of your life. You didn’t know how you would please both of them, but you knew you could. So you nod. 

“Use your words for me then, sweetheart. We’ll do the color system, m’kay? Green is all good, yellow for slow, red for stop, can you do that for us?” He says, running his fingers through your hair. Your eyes meet Satoru’s, who also seems to be waiting for a reply. You nod again. 

“Yes, ‘m fine, green all good.” You mutter, grinding your pussy against Satoru’s nose even though he was buried in your cunt. He sucks on your clit again, but it makes your stomach jump and your hips rock faster so they know you’re close to your first real orgasm in who knows how long. 

Geto hums his approval, tightening his hold on your waist. “You gonna make her cum for us, Sato?” He inquires, every touch flaming hot. Gojo nods, teeth scraping your bud and it’s all you need to topple over the edge. Suguru’s hands go back to your hips, your fingers tugging on the other boy who still lapped at your nectar. He hums his enjoyment, sitting back on his knees and winking at you. 

“You can pull my hair all night long, angel.” He says, watching your hole clench around nothing. How cute. He flickers his gaze to the man holding you upright, arousal nearly dripping off his tongue. “I think she needs a little break, you wanna taste?” He asks, which confuses you for a moment. How could he give you a break if they were going to swap?

Geto hums. “Of course I do. Come here.” He says, smirking at your bewildered gaze on them. Satoru grins and leans over you, planting his lips on the man who asked. You gasp softly, the sight more arousing than you’d like to admit. It wasn’t necessarily surprising, as they seemed pretty attracted to each other, you just felt ashamed for getting off on it. But you can’t help it, the way they hummed their satisfaction against each other’s mouths was melodic, Satoru opening his mouth for Suguru to utilize how he wants. The latter holds his jaw in similar fashion to the way he held yours earlier, controlling the space between them. He pulls back a little, mostly just to view your arousal covering Satoru’s bratty face and to look over at your awestruck features. He smirks at this, his tongue darting out as he brings Satoru’s face back to his, though they don’t kiss. Satoru whimpers as Suguru licks the sides of his mouth, cleaning all your natural honey off his best friend’s face. 

You gasp softly, not able to stop yourself, “That’s fuckin’ hot.” Satoru chuckles, his hand closing around Suguru’s wrist so he could turn his head in his grip. 

“I agree baby girl. He just had to taste you on my tongue.” He grinned, though that was the exact truth. The flavor of the two of you combined was driving him crazy. His dick throbbed painfully, and he didn’t know how much of this he could take. He releases Satoru in favor of fisting his hair. 

“Let me get her other hole ready.” He demands, and only Satoru knows what he means. The white-haired boy grins devilishly, sitting back on the other end of the couch. He wiggles out of his pants and tosses them over his shoulder, cock slapping his eight-pack. 

He looks at you with that same bare-naked stare he gave you the day you met, his smirk unfaltering. “Lean over and suck my cock, baby. He wants to see it and he's gotta get your ass ready.” He giggles softly, his large hand wrapping around his own length to keep it from aching. Your eyes flicker to the cock in question, aggravated red tip oozing pre-ejaculate down his prettily veined shaft, curving upwards to abuse every spongy spot. He was much bigger than your ex, you knew it would take some time to adjust. Nonetheless, you eagerly slip off of Suguru’s lap, getting on all fours. Suguru takes the opportunity to free his cock from his pants, sitting on his knees so he had a bird’s eye view of you crawling toward Satoru.

Gojo nearly vibrates with excitement, moving his hand away from his length so you could take over. He suddenly pouts when your pretty eyes look up at him, he’s realized he still hasn’t kissed you yet. “Oh no sugar, Can’t have you suck me off if I haven’t even been a gentleman.” 

He hums, sitting up so he could meet your lips. He was greedy with his kiss, lips hungrily moving over yours. You respond in kind, hand resting on the back of his neck where your fingers just brushed over the soft fuzz of his undercut. He moans softly, clearly enjoying the way you play with him. He pulls back with a loud smacking sound, resting his back against the arm of the couch once more, hands folded behind his head. Suguru rolls his eyes at Satoru’s showmanship, but he watches anyway.

“Much better, go ahead, hot stuff.” He coos, looking rather satisfied with himself. Your face is why, so drunk on his kiss that you sit back on your knees and hover over his tip, squealing in surprise as Suguru holds your waist. You can feel his length rubbing against your thighs, positioned under your cunt. His tip collides with your clit so perfectly when you rock back on him, your hips doing so automatically. You moan softly at the feeling, and Suguru hums as your arousal continues to drip around him. 

“I’m gonna fuck you while you give him head, sweetness, ‘s that good with you?” He asks, praying you say yes. He didn’t want to throw too much at you at once, but his dick was beginning to hurt. He sighs happily when you nod. You bite your lip, knowing you were about to feel unimaginably full. You turn your head to peek at his size, finding him not as long but nearly twice as girthy as the dick you hold in your hands. And you already needed two hands for Satoru. You sigh, Satoru’s slender fingers grabbing your chin to pull your focus back to him. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout him angel, I got you soaked enough to take him.” He brags, squeezing your cheeks between his grip. He giggles at your smooshed face and hums, bringing your chin back down to his tip. You batted your eyelashes at him, watching his face carefully as you stick your tongue out and take him into your mouth. He groans at the relief of your warm insides, ego stroked when you gag just halfway down his length. He can feel himself in the back of your tight throat, eyes fluttering shut when you start to bob your head along him. Suguru smirks, enjoying the sight. He can see the muscles twitch in Satoru’s stomach and he can feel your pussy lips move on his dick leading him to believe you’re clenching around nothing. 

He can fix that. He palms your round ass, relishing the way you push yourself back into him while easing more and more of Satoru’s dick down your throat. It’s gorgeous, Gojo’s soft moans and the choking gags of you trying to take all of him. Your throat squeezes him perfectly, his hand coming down on the back of your neck to keep you there. He forces his eyes open, wanting to remember the way you look with his cock stuffed deep, tears rolling down your face. All three of you have forgotten about the camera, just performing for each other. Satoru can tell when Suguru plunges in by the way your eyes widen and you temporarily stop moving. Though you don’t have much a choice once Suguru starts rolling his hips against your asscheeks. The burn as he stretches you out is delicious, making you moan around Satoru. He moans in return, the vibration of your voice going straight to his balls. He can’t help but slightly buck into your warm mouth, Suguru’s slow thrusts giving you time to adjust. 

You clench around him and that sensation alone is so good he almost moans. Satoru wasn’t lying, he made sure you were absolutely drenched to make accommodating his friend’s size as easy as possible. Your walls were still so choking and spongy, he can feel a tingling sensation shoot down his spine. He watches you get used to him, your hips slightly wiggle back for him, and you resume bobbing along Satoru. It was hard to breathe with such a task at hand, you took deep breaths through your nose, but you still felt dizzy as Suguru picked up his pace. 

Satoru watched the pleasure wash over Geto’s face, the man’s eyes closing and mouth dropping open. It was so hot, especially with the way you squeezed around him. It was too much, he knew he wouldn’t last long like this. Your pretty face at his cock, burying your nose in his snow colored pubes paired with Geto’s soft grunts as he plows into you and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass was sending him hurtling towards the finish line and he didn’t want this to end yet. He didn’t want to shoot his load in your mouth—not this time anyway. 

Suguru settles into a regular pace, trying not to falter when you squeeze down on him like this. His thrusts are powerful, pushing you into Gojo’s trimmed bush with every rock of his hips. The men are rewarded with the sweet sound of your gags, to which they both cherish. He tries to be gentle as he gathers some spit on his fingers, tentatively sliding the spit around your tight ring while he keeps you drunk on dick. You mewl softly as his thick index slips in, both holes squeezing on him so fucking good he groans. Suddenly, there’s a rubber band ready to snap in your gut, making you gasp around the girth keeping you from speaking, as if you could do much of that anyway.

The man responsible hums, giving your ass a gentle smack. “Gonna cum for us again baby?” You nod along Satoru, and he beams with satisfaction. “Go ahead, get my dick nice and wet for me.” His words are so lewd that you can’t help but obey, gagging on Satoru as you try to cry out. The slender boy can’t handle it, biting down on his lip to avoid  the inevitable. 

“Sugu, not gonna make it like this..” Satoru says in a whiny tone, watching your ass ripple into Geto’s hips and your face contort in added bliss. Suguru peeked at his friend’s pouty face and chuckling at the blown pupils and flushed cheeks of the bratty male. 

“That’s fine bubs, we’ll change it up. I’m sure that throat needs a break.”  Suguru hummed, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. He didn’t want anything obscuring his view of your perfect mounds. He lightly spanked the flesh, relishing your little squeal. He treasures his last few pumps of you, knowing he would give his whiny counterpart your sopping hole. Satoru releases your hair, smiling brightly at the sight of your ruined face. 

“Now those are some tears I can get behind, princess.” He coos, thumbing them off your pretty face. He brings your mouth back to his, not willing to give you any time to breathe. You’re gasping against his lips, but your hold on his shoulders begs him to come closer. Suguru continues prodding your hole, spitting on the second entrance of yours he’d be taking. He slips a second finger in, and you don’t complain. You sigh into Satoru’s mouth and tug at his hair, lips smacking against each other's messily. Geto loves watching this, his other hand stroking his aching erection. 

Satoru watches his friend, trying to sync his timing to his. He was only trying to keep you occupied so the other man could work your asshole, knowing it would be a big stretch, Satoru was content to make out with you until he comes untouched, but he knows Suguru won’t allow that to happen. He nods, now able to scissor his fingers in your hole. His strong hands grip your hips, pulling you from the white-haired man which earned a whine from you. 

“You’ll get Satoru back, beloved, don’t worry.” Suguru rasps, pulling you back into his lap, facing away from him as you did earlier, the only difference being your knees folded under you as if you were still in doggy. You felt a little guilty with his comment, not wanting to prefer one over the other. So you lay your head back on his shoulder, using two fingers on his jaw to turn his face close enough for you to push your lips on his. Satoru loves the sight, the two sexiest people he knows making out right in front of him! The only thing that could possibly make this better is what they’re planning on next. Gojo walks forward on his knees, once more caging you in. It’s his mouth you feel soothing the marks his friend left earlier, breaking new patches of skin to bruise of his own. 

Suguru’s hand cups your cheek, his kisses deliciously slow and sensual. He didn’t want his hard work to go to waste though, so he lifts you slightly, lining his cock up with your asshole. He breaks the sweet kiss, “You think you can take both of us, baby?” 

“Oh she can do it, poor girl needs it.” Satoru hums, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that right?” 

You nod. If you thought you were incapable of speaking earlier, then maybe you’ve never had good sex in your entire life. “Green, go for it..wan’ have both.” You whine, making Satoru light up. 

“You heard the lovely lady.” Satoru purrs, hands on your waist as a means to push you onto Suguru’s cock if he doesn't do it fast enough for his liking. Suguru just chuckles through his nose and shakes his head. 

“So impatient. Very well.” He hums, using his leverage on your hips to slide his tip past the squeezing ring of muscle. He grips your hips harder than he means to, undoubtedly leaving semi-permanent marks. It was impossible not to, he was trying to slowly inch his way in, but your ass was sucking him in so good he had to slowly shove the rest in. You let out a loud wanton moan, bordering scream. Satoru moaned from the sight and sound alone, his only touch being his hands on your waist. He was going to claim your cunt, no doubt, but he had to let you get accustomed to Suguru’s rod in your ass. 

He just lets you sit on it for a moment, partially for his own benefit. He had to get himself under control or he would bust immediately, and ruin everything for Satoru. And he would never hear the end of his mouth if he did. You feel so full, the pressure of him stretching everything open makes you see stars. You yearn for movement, for some relief on your throbbing clit, so you whine, watching Satoru’s face morph into surprise as you try to bounce on Suguru already. 

The man moans, the first one he’s let loose all evening. It’s deep and once again thunders against your back. You were better than the fantasies he had conjured in his head, and he was determined to give you the time of your life. So he aids you in your bounces, his rough hands supporting your weight and dragging you up and down his shaft at his own pace. It was still too good, the warmth and tightness choking down on him perfectly.

“Fuck her, Satoru.��� Geto breathily demands, the gravelly tone of his voice sending a chill to both you and the man he ordered inside you. Satoru didn’t hesitate, his knees situated between Suguru’s. He lined up with your entrance, tugging you forward just a bit which must have deepened the long-haired man’s connection as you started moaning so lewdly Satoru wondered if he’d paint your walls just by pushing inside. He couldn’t watch your poor pussy clamp around nothing any longer though, bottoming out in you and holding your cheeks in one large hand. He enjoyed how your sounds changed, sounding warped due to your smooshed face. He smiled, your cunt tightening around him, meaning it got even tighter for Geto. 

“You heard the man, ‘m gonna fuck you angel. Let us know you’re okay.” He cooed, and even though his words were sweet he almost sounded like he was teasing you. 

You nod, eyes closed tight and nose scrunched at the sensation of two huge cocks stuffing you full. You thought your intestines must be forced to move to accommodate them, heavy breathing and soft grunts in your ears. “Good, so good.” 

Satoru nodded, kissing your forcibly puckered lips sweetly as he began to move inside you too. His eyes roll back for a moment, everything about this was perfect. Your silky walls pulsating around him, the feeling of Suguru’s cock rubbing against his only separated by a thin wall of tissue, the look on his lovers faces. He groans, tossing his head back as he fucks into you harder. He dreamed of a day like this, and now he could only pray this wasn’t a one time thing. He was already addicted to this, and by the looks of it so was Suguru. He hadn’t ever seen the man so relaxed, though he enjoyed it immensely. As if he could feel his stare, Geto opens his eyes to make contact with the man staring. He winked, a slight smirk. Your hips continued to buck, getting fucked no matter how you moved. Forward onto Satoru’s curved length abusing your pleasure spot or backwards onto Suguru’s impaling girth splitting you open. You feel that familiar sensation of fire building in your gut, your pants and moans getting closer together. The men look at each other, nodding breathlessly. They were close, like they had been since the moment they saw you undress. The feeling of your choking walls on both ends made it impossible to hold out any longer, though your body spasms tell them they won’t have to. Your grip on Satoru’s hair tightens, a wailing moan signifying your release as if the rush of cum surrounding Gojo wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna get both loads love, you want that?” Suguru grunts in your ear. 

You nod vigorously, head so empty you could only collapse against his chest, making him support the full weight of you. He didn’t mind at all, grinning ear to ear. He was hanging on by a thread, but it was his job to make sure everyone was happy. 

“You first Sato.” He groaned, clearly struggling. 

“With me.” The man pouted, the deal so sweet that Suguru couldn’t refuse. 

He nods, “With you.” He gulps, waiting for the tell-tale crinkle of Satoru’s nose to tell him when to release the burning coil in his gut. Satoru could tell that he was waiting for him, his thrusts to your cunt menacingly rough. It only takes a few more before his nose crinkles and mouth drops open, cock twitching inside you fucked out cunt. 

Suguru gasps softly, his hot load spurting off like an erupting volcano, quickly filling you up and forcing the rest to ooze out around him despite how well he plugged your hole. Satoru’s seed spills out into you like a dam had been holding him back, both sensations so warm and messy and delicious that you moan softly at just the feeling, head spinning as it falls back onto Geto’s shoulder with heavy breaths. 

Gojo slumps forward slightly, kissing your jaw with the most tenderness he had displayed all night. “I knew you could do it, hot stuff. That was fucking amazing.” He hums, fishing for an article of clothing to put under you. He finds Suguru’s shirt, and raises up enough to slide it under you with Geto’s help. They couldn’t have you staining the couch, now. Gojo slides out of you, leaving you on Suguru’s comfortable lap. The black haired man smiles at you sleepily, pushing some of your hair out of the way. 

“Yeah, it was, we hope you had a good time?” He hums as Satoru goes to stop  the recorder. 

You giggle and nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I guess it’s time to get cleaned up and back to my place, for as long as I still have it.” You chuckle dryly, your entire body was a pile of mush, and you couldn’t move if you tried. You just didn’t want to overstay your welcome or make your problems their responsibility, despite their eagerness to take care of you. 

Satoru comes back with three bottles of water and a sheepish look on his face, an oddity for him. “I may or may not have forgotten to press record.” He says with a slight grimace, handing out the waters as an apology. Your amusement is clear, and you wonder if he did it on purpose.

Suguru laughs, and he can’t figure out if it’s at you or Satoru. “Hm, what a predicament. You’re not going anywhere.” He squeezes your hips and lifts you off his length, setting you back in his lap regularly. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then you don’t have to worry a hair on your pretty little head about your place. You can stay here.” He said matter of factly, his arm hangs possessively around your waist. 

Gojo hums. “We could use a sweet lady like you. We’ll make up for that year of faked orgasms.” He winks and takes a swig of water. They make a convincing argument, and with the way Satoru wipes the pearls of cum off your legs and the way Suguru carries you in his arms to start a shower, you have no doubt that they will take care of you.

[beansprean]

My Familiar’s Ghost part 36

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Tight shot of the attic by an exterior wall. The wall is partially patched with haphazardly placed two by fours, more planks stacked on the floor underneath. On the left, an ornate wooden chair sits by a tall shape covered by a white sheet. On the right is a couch half-covered in a sheet, a standing lamp, an empty picture frame, a snowboard, and several cardboard boxes. The large box in the foreground is labeled '80s crap' and is propped partially open by a lava lamp, a beaded necklace and dancing hula girl sitting on top. Ghost Guillermo is laying on his side in the middle of the floor, head against the 80s crap box, covering his face and moaning like a real ghost. The black wraith energy around him has almost formed and entire cloak and hood shape, still ragged and morphing around the edges. He whines, 'Ohh... that was so embarrassing... What the fuck is wrong with meee... I wanna die!! ...Again...' 1b. Close up on Guillermo as he uncovers his face to glance up at the label on the box. 1c. Repeat. Guillermo tosses his head back in renewed anguish, chin crumbling and hands curling into fists as he wails, 'This is where I belong! I'm 80s crap!!'

2a. Reverse shot of the other side of the attic, showing the stairs coming up in the far corner. On the right, (further to Guillermo's left) is a Wii Fit, a small box labeled '2000', a mannequin torso, a wooden trunk, and a tall cardboard box labeled 'fish tank, upside down. On the left is a support beam, covered canvasses, and a rolled-up rug. Nandor appears at the top of the stairs as if having crawled up them as quietly as possible, leaning in with one hand on the attic floor and the other clutching the banister. He is wearing knee high leather boots and a white robe monogrammed with the Monaco Hotel and Casino logo and has his hair wrapped up in a towel turban. He asks, with some confusion and concern, 'You are what?' In the bottom corner of the foreground, Guillermo's head pops up in shock. 2b. Reverse shot over Nandor's shoulder. Guillermo immediately snaps 'Nope' and voops into a glowing blue vapor, pouring himself into the dancing hula girl nearby. 2c. Reverse shot, wider version of 2a showing the entire left side of the attic and stairs. Nandor marches fully up the stairs and into the room towards Guillermo, fists swinging at his sides to steel his nerves. He announces, 'Guillermo, it is very childish to possess a sexy dancing hula lady when I am trying to speak with you!' In the bottom corner of the foreground, Guillermo-as-hula-girl turns around with a scowl, fists clenched, and mutters angrily 'I swear to... The one time I was counting on him to avoid a conversation...' /end ID

[sunarots]

so high school ━━━ atsumu miya

03. cocky ♡

“Maybe you should take your hood down and sunglasses off.” After fifteen minutes and a pit stop in the first coffee shop you could find, Atsumu was yet to make his appearance any less suspicious.

“Why?”

“Because you’re drawing more attention to us and they probably think you’re kidnapping me.”

Atsumu looks around himself and curses under his breath, pulling his hood down but keeping his sunglasses and mask on. “Fine.”

“Lose the sunglasses too, you look like a dick.”

“Oi, watch it or I’ll kick ya out,” Atsumu laughs. He moves the sunglasses to sit on his head. “Here, take the lift up.” He takes the second suitcase from you, rolling both of them by his sides. “How was the flight?”

“It was okay. Some lady’s baby started screaming halfway through and then she picked a fight with a flight attendant for not having anything to heat up milk.”

“What?”

You laugh along with him and shrug. "Funniest thing, they did have something to heat it up for her. She just started screaming out of nowhere! Then the baby threw up on her and the snacks she got, which shut her up really quick."

Atsumu laughs, holding open the elevator door for the two women waiting behind you both. He presses the button and you start moving up. "Just so ya know, none of yer furniture has arrived yet. Yer more than welcome to take my bed and I'll take the couch until it does get here."

"Oh, I sold all my furniture. Those boxes on my story was all things I donated to different charity shops, Ushiwaka delivered them for me before taking me to the airport."

Atsumu nods along slowly to your words. "What's yer plan?"

"Oh, I have money from all the things I managed to sell, along with the deposit I'd placed on the flat, so it's enough for basics. After I drop my suitcases off, I'll go for a walk and try to find some shops and you can go back to work."

"Don't be silly." Atsumu takes both your suitcases before you have a chance to stop him, leading you out of the elevator and towards the parking lot. "I can take ya. I took the whole afternoon off to help ya settle in. Plus, I can show ya all the hidden spots. We can grab a bite to eat."

"Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience-"

"Yer not inconveniencing anyone, Y/N," Atsumu assures you, stopping behind a sleek, black sports car and lifting the trunk of it. He lifts the two suitcases, barely managing to get them both to fit. "I'm starved. We can try yer world famous onigiri tomorrow after ya get some rest."

You reach to open the car door, flinching back as the door raises upwards. "Jesus, you really make the most of your money here. Tobio's was just some old car. What's the point of it going up rather than outwards?" You slide in beside him, grabbing at the door and pulling it down.

He settles into his seat and lets out a soft chuckle. "Uh, it looks cool? Plus, ya can't hit any other cars with them." He pulls out of the spot and starts driving seemingly fast.

"You might catch some low-flying planes."

Atsumu shakes his head. "Oi, watch what ya say about my baby here. Be gentle."

"Are you being gentle with her, you took that corner at sixty." You have one hand rest on the door, staring at Atsumu with doubt in your eye. "Miya, are you trying to kill me? Was that the plan all along?"

Smiling and shaking his head, he glances over at you and slows the car down. "Ah, sorry. I forget to slow down with others in the car. I’m not usually the chauffeur.”

Nodding your head, you admire the streets you pass much more intently now that you’re going at a more reasonable speed. “So you drew the short straw this time around?” you tease, Atsumu not catching your smile.

“Nah, I didn’t. I offered.”

“Wow, you offered. I’m flattered.”

He chuckles. “Ah, well, mostly because the others need their practice more than me. I’m better than them.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really cocky?”

His grin grows wider as he slows and pulls into a parking lot, carefully reversing into a private spot. “Everyone, darlin’. Come on, let’s get you unpacked.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. after your best friend reveals he’s moving out of your shared flat, you’re presented with a tough choice: let one of the creeps who are begging you to let them move in with you, or find a cheaper flat in another area of town. a do-over couldn’t have come at a better time for you, but your only option for a place to stay is with someone your best friend knew from high school, and his two teammates.

taglist (open!). @reignsaway @yuminako @thiisisntlovely @diorzs @aboutkiyoomi @spicana @bakingcuriosity @kr1nqu @savemebrazilhinata @dazqa @sereniteav @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @sleezzsister @hermaeusmorax

[pinksugarscrub]

Guts

Hobie Brown x fem! spider! reader

Late octobie submission, prepare to be amazed

Event by @the-kr8tor Banner by @the-shroom-garden

Special thank you to @hyperfix-wip for being my number one pookie and beta reader 💙❤️

word count: 1,707

parts: 1, 2

cw: cursing and general shenanigans

~

F.E.A.S.T. has been a part of your life since you could remember. It’s where you met Peter Parker, your Peter Parker. In his prime with more than a dozen job applications while you were halfway through high school.

Now your roles are reversed with Peter leading the Emily-May foundation alongside Harry Osborn and you finishing your first year of college. Things couldn’t be better. Not that you would say that out loud. Peter is superstitious and now you’re starting to believe him after Doctor Connors turned himself into…well a lizard.

The smell of pumpkin permeates the air. Small candles lit and fixed across all of the plastic tables you helped setup just this morning. It makes your nose twitch and a headache soon appears but you don't have the heart to tell May.

There are artificial leaves hanging from the ceiling along with streamers. A tree trunk made of packing paper and tape in the corner. Notes with something everyone is thankful for along with a few polaroids. All in all the day is shaping up to be great!

Denial is a river in Egypt.

“Hun, don’t you have a paper due tonight?” May asks. Concern etching her face as she catches you mid-errand.

“What? No-” you wheeze. Pretending to struggle with the boxes in your hands when another volunteer walks by. It turns out to only be Peter. Who makes short work of taking the boxes off your hands. Always a gentleman.

“Here, let me help!”

“Your protege is stretching herself thin again Peter.” May tsks.

Peter shifts the boxes of clothing just under his chin. A knowing look on his face that sometimes you wish you could just squash under your shoes. 

“Is it the battle of the bands? You’ll do great junior, it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

“That’s today?” May gasps.

“Would everyone just-” Your voice raises in irritation and it immediately deflates as you catch May and Peter exchange a look. “I’m fine. I just need a break. Sorry.”

Peter’s eyes follow you as you stuff your hands in your pockets and storm up the steps.

“All yours Pete.” May sighs. Patting his back and sending him off with her prayers.

When Peter finds you, your eyes are rimmed with red and your fingers are fidgeting like they always do when you’re anxious. 

He can remember finding you in the same place and predicament when he first started mentoring you. 

Peter has never really thought of himself as this great hero. Even after seeing Spider-Man themed sneakers and branded t-shirts (He hasn’t seen any of the revenue from that by the way).

Peter just happens to be at the right place at the right time. Granted he chose to be someone the neighborhood could rely on but greatness wasn’t something he was used to being described as by anyone other than his close friends and May. 

To have to live in his shadow was something he couldn’t quite comprehend until you voiced your bubbling insecurities to him. You were such a small thing then. Still trying to find your way in the world and become Spider-Woman .

Since then this rooftop,in and out of costume, has become the center of uncomfortable conversations and warm embraces that fill a space in Peter’s heart that he wasn’t even aware he had. You were his family now. With Mary Jane and Harry. It was a weird conjunction of people but a happy one nonetheless.

Peter holds onto the door until it quietly locks back into place. You don’t move but he’s sure you’ve noticed him. He stands until you quietly ask him to sit and for a while it’s silent. Peter knows you like it that way. You’re such an analytical kid.

The city streets are as noisy as ever. It’s New York. But the leaves are a vibrant array of orange, yellow, and red. The air is cold and the sky is gray.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again.

“No sweat.” Peter smiles. Glancing over before squeezing your shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

You snort, “cold.” Wrapping your thin sweater tighter around your body to make a point. “I forgot my jacket.”

“I can see that,” he laughs. Then it’s quiet again except for his shuffling as he sets his jacket over your shoulders. 

“You did a great job with the decorations.” He tries to veer the conversation in a different direction. You aren’t ready to talk yet.

“It’s just colored paper.”

“Ah there’s only room for one self deprecating person on this roof and that’s me. Get your own gig.”

You laugh and finally look up from your scarred hands. Freshly healed from a run in with Rhino. 

Peter smiles wider. That goofy smile that MJ fell in love with when they were just sixteen. You will die before ever admitting you once found him cute. You will also take to your grave the massive crush you had on Spider-Man before getting bit. What? You were fourteen!

“What about depression?” You quip. “Anxiety is a good candidate too.”

“How about something positive for once.”

“Anxiety is positive. It keeps me alive.”

“Alright, something serotonin inducing,” he corrects himself.

“Arson.”

“That isn’t illegal.”

You sigh loudly and slump against the wall. “Fine. Uh…what about being stuck up? That’s free and still mildly annoying.”

“Mildly?” He chokes out a laugh. “I beg to differ. What about being a know it all?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Too basic.”

You stare at one another before bursting into laughter. His arm comes up to bring you into his embrace. 

Peter knows how to give good hugs. You’ve deduced this after watching him console civilians. Just the right ones too and Peter always smelled distinctly of soot and ash. Like he can never quite separate Spider-Man from Peter Parker.

“What is it?” He asks after seeing your expression slowly sink back into sadness.

What was it? Was there a simple answer? Everything felt congealed into one. Gooey and sticky until you were left with a multicolored wad of gum. You suppose that’s the best answer you can give Peter.

“It’s everything.” You exhale. Shoulders slumped as you look back to your clammy palms. “College admissions, the band, today’s dinner.”

You drown further into his much too large jacket. You could stay in it forever if it meant not having to face reality.

“What’s worrying you the most. Let’s start there.”

You scrunch your nose and ponder over the list of things weighing on your mind. One sticks out like a thorn in your side no matter how hard you try to think about graduation or what to wear tonight. The show.

“Remember Hobie?” 

Peter perks up. “Yeah, of course. We’re meeting him today along with…Gwen and Pavitr, am I saying that right?”

If it wasn’t for the fact your stomach was in knots you would have teased him for taking so long to remember.

“Yeah, Pav works too.”

Peter parrots the shortened version of Pavitr’s name under his breath. Mentally storing that information so he can make a good impression on your friends.

A deep breath leaves your chest as you tap on your knee. “I want him, especially him, to think I’m cool. Is that weird?”

Peter shakes his head. “Not at all. I mean, talk to MJ. There is no shortage of embarrassing stories about me trying to impress her.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “Like the time you ate it in the cafeteria when you were trying to catch up to her. Or the time-”

“Ok, ok!” Peter sputters. Face growing hot as he relives the most devastating moment of his life. “Jeez, are you trying to kill me?”

“It would make this process go a lot faster,” you joke.

“Right, feelings stink.”

“Suck Peter. They suck.”

“Same thing,” he argues.

“No it isn’t Mary Poppins- can I finish now?”

Peter raises one hand in surrender while the other remains on your side.

“Thank you,” you huff. Lips twitching as you fight the urge to smile. 

Thinking over your friendship with Hobie—that you’re hoping will evolve into something more—there is one thing he has an adamant distaste for and that’s capitalism. 

And, well, no your band doesn’t make million dollar record deals but the genre of music is so generic not even you can keep from making fun of the four chord pop songs you make.

However after spending more and more time with Hobie you started to see the stark differences in why you both create music. You can’t help but think Hobie might not be able to see past it. You almost feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A poser, a fraud.

But you love music. Your songs are a mix of a little bit of everything in that they aren’t one in the same. Stemming from your background, your bandmates, and what’s popular now. You don’t stick to just one thing. But what if that doesn’t impress him?

Punk is a form of expression against oppression while pop is an innovation of style and skill. Moreover focused on presentation. Hobie plays for freedom while you play for a different kind.

“Well,” Peter began, “I’m no expert but from what I’ve heard-”

You roll your eyes as he fakes an english accent. It’s horrible. Like scratching your nails against a chalkboard.

“-he sounds like a pretty great guy. I almost want to marry him.”

That you can agree with.

“I doubt he’d ever break up a friendship over something so trivial in the grand scheme of things.” Peter considers there’s a slim chance he will. Slim. So he continues. “If he does. You and I can cry over a box of oreos.”

“Cookie dough,” you correct. On the verge of tears as you smile. Not for yourself but for Peter.

You never received ‘you’re being ridiculous’ or ‘you’re overreacting’ from Peter. He never sugar coated anything either. He would make a great dad someday.

“We’re getting through this together. Whether you win or lose. You’ve always got me.” His voice softened. “Ok squirt?”

Air escapes Peter’s lungs as you barrel into his chest. Clutching onto his battered ‘the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell’ shirt until your knuckles turn white. 

“Thanks Pete.”

[janesociety]

can you please do a james potter x reader where reader is always patching james up from quidditch injuries and comforting him in the hospital wing and stuff but roles are reversed when he's trying to teach you quidditch and reader gets a minor injury (sprained ankle or something). cue overprotective jamie & platonic marauders fluff<3

oh! darling

james potter x reader

type: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: after years of you taking care of james, it was finally his turn.

warnings: reader has sprained ankle, references to slightly worse injuries

notes: i am so incredibly sorry this took so long i don’t even have an excuse

masterlist

𝜗𝜚

You were never all that big a fan of flying. Being on a broom just never felt sturdy to you and you weren’t all that crazy about heights either. It wasn’t exactly that you were afraid per say, you just chose to avoid them when possible.

With a boyfriend like James Potter, you knew it would one day no longer be avoidable.

James, while on one hand being the most responsible, smart, and caring person you knew, was also the clumsiest.

You lost count on the number of times you’d had to walk him from the Quidditch Pitch to the infirmary for an injury. Sometimes he sustained them at a practice, a game- hell, sometimes he would just be flying around for fun and manage to throw himself from his broom. It became such a common occurrence, you now had your own little pharmacy under the sink in your dorm so you could fix some of his minor injuries up there. Then of course there were his more major injuries- like the time he broke his foot when it was smashed between the stadium wall and a bludger or when he got a concussion when he and Sirius slammed into each other when messing around. During those times, you’d sit with him in the hospital wing and keep him company. You were always sure to spend your free periods with him, catch him up on school work, bring him food- anything he needed.

To be honest, as much as you hated him getting hurt, you treasured some of those moments in the hospital wing when it was just the two of you being together.

When you woke up on that Saturday morning to James no longer next to you in his bed, you were confused. You’d both agreed the day before that neither of you wanted to go to Hogsmeade that weekend and you knew James didn’t have any Quidditch practice. You rolled out of his bed, finding one of his sweaters in his trunk and throwing it on. You made your way to the mostly empty common room- most people were already at breakfast so they could eat before leaving for Hogsmeade- and found Lily buried in her books at a corner table.

“Hey, Lils,” you said, sliding into a seat across from her.

“Hey,” she said, her eyes not looking up from the page of the herbology textbook she was reading. You leaned awkwardly back in your seat, not exactly wanting to disturb her, but not knowing what to do with yourself when you didn’t know where any of your other friends were and you were feeling just a bit too lazy to look.

“Sorry,” she said, finally looking up at you and sitting back. “I haven’t had time to study recently- I’m hoping to catch up today while everyone’s at Hogsmeade.”

“No- no, you’re fine, I can leave if you want,” you said quickly. “Have you seen James?”

“Him and Sirius walked out of here an hour ago looking for Marlene and Dorcas and I haven’t seen them sense,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They seemed overly excited, per usual. I think they were up to something.”

“God, maybe I don’t want to look for him anymore,” you said, laughing through a yawn.

Your wish was granted- not exactly in the way you wanted- as the porthole swung open as James and Sirius marched in with their hands full. It took you a minute to see what they were holding- Sirius was holding a large box that you quickly recognized as a chest that held all the different Quidditch balls and James was holding three brooms. Three.

“Oh, darling, you’re up,” he said, gently setting down the brooms next to you and kissing your head. “We were gonna come up and get you.” He wrapped his arms around your neck from behind you and rested his head on your shoulder. You made weary eye contact with Lily at the sight of the brooms. You hummed.

“What’re the brooms for?” you asked, recognizing only one of them as his. He chuckled in your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“Quidditch, darling, what else?” he said, pecking your cheek after. He was always affectionate, but you could tell he was getting ready to question you about something.

“Oh,” you said, turning your head to see Sirius running up the stairs to the dorm.

“Me and Pads were thinking-“ well that’s never good- “that maybe you would come out to the pitch with us today and fly around a bit?” Your eyes went wide.

“James, I- you know I hate flying,” you said, turning to look at him. He loosened his arms to allow you to move.

“I know! I know, but I was thinking if me and Pads were there to help you out, you might feel better,” he said, massaging your shoulder. “I thought it could be fun.” You looked to Lily for help but she gave you a good luck look and quickly buried herself back into her books. “Please, love?”

“Fine.”

“Come on, darling!” James yelled from above you. “You’re gonna do great!” You resisted the urge to flip him off at his well-meaning encouragement.

You’d flown before, of course- it was a class after all. So you knew what you were doing, you just didn’t want to be doing it.

“Oh, the things I do for you,” you muttered under your breath as you began levitating off the ground. It took you a moment to get used to the sensation before you floated up to the level James and Sirius were at. Your hands were gripping the broom so hard your knuckles were white. It was less of you being scared of the broom and more not trusting yourself to be able to adequately operate it.

“You’re doing great,” James said, flying up next to you with a quaffle tucked under his arm. He reached out his free hand to take yours but you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, but no,” you said, cracking a smile and staring at his hand. He chuckled, reaching over and patting your shoulder- the act making you squeak at the feeling of being slightly unbalanced.

“Sorry!” he said quickly, laughing at how the blood had rushed to your face. “You’re alright, darling, you’re not gonna fall.” You let out a huff. “I won’t let you fall, how about that?” You smiled at him. “Alright, c’mon.” He motioned for you to follow him and you did, heading over to where Sirius was flying in circles.

“Finally!” he groaned, stopping as you two approached. “I don’t know why you’re so worried, Y/N. You were good at it in first year when we had to take the class.”

“I never liked it,” you said, pointing and flexing your feet to get used to the feeling of them not touching the ground. “But I can do it.”

“Okay, okay, finally ready to play?” Sirius asked, motioning for James to throw him the quaffle.

They explained the game. It was basically modified Quidditch so that it could be played with one ball and three people. It was decided that you would be goalkeeper first- which you were grateful for. The rules were James and Sirius were both trying to score on you, but when they intercepted the ball, they had to go back to the center. James used a charm to create foggy lines of smoke in the air where the centerline was because “Sirius is a big cheater so we need to be able to see.”

It was fun, actually. You surprised yourself with how quickly you picked up the skills you’d thought you’d forgotten. You were able to hold your own in the goal, blocking almost all their shots- even after they stopped going easy on you.

“You’re letting him win!” Sirius groaned after James scored for the third time. “This isn’t fair! You’re biased.” You rolled your eyes.

“You should know me well enough to know I’d help James lose before I’d help him win,” you said.

“Hey! I can hear you!” James yelled from farther back, tossing the ball to Sirius.

“Yeah, yeah, just get going,” you said, flying lazily around one of the goal posts. You were still moving pretty slow, the fear of falling still not totally dissipating, but you could keep up with them so far.

The games soon started again, Sirius being extra as ever and doing small spins around the stadium as James tried to chase him around. When Sirius took a shot, James raced in before you could catch it and dashed back to the centerline.

“Show off,” you muttered sarcastically as he whipped past you and sent you a goofy grin. You couldn’t help but smile at him.

You got somewhat bored when their back and forth went on just a little too long, and found yourself staring mindlessly around you. The wind was whipping your hair around your head and you were somewhat dreading what it would look like when you-

“Y/N!”

You didn’t have time to react before something hard collided with your head. You were exactly sure what was happening, but you felt everything spin and the wind picked up. You couldn’t figure out if you were dizzy or falling. When you felt your broom slip out from under you, you decided it was probably both. The simple realization you were falling from so high was enough to make your stomach start doing somersaults faster than the rest of your body was.

James immediately went into a nose dive the second he saw you slip. He was already dashing over to you before you fell- seeing the path of the ball that had left his hands seconds before. Sirius was behind him, shouting an incantation you couldn’t hear between the blood rushing to your ears and the air passing you. You slowed suddenly, the spell Sirius had cast finally taking effect, but not soon enough.

You crumpled to the ground, letting out a gasp.

“Y/N!” James yelled, stumbling off his broom and rushing towards you. “Y/N, hey, hey,” he said, brushing your hair out of your face. Your eyes were squeezed shut and your face was pinched with pain as you gripped your ankle.

“I’m- I’m alright,” you said, shakily, your eyes still closed. You tried to move but let out a pained gasp when you moved your leg.

“Oh, Y/N,” he said, cupping your face. You opened your eyes to see the fear and worry contorting his face as he looked at you. Seeing him fuss over you almost felt worse than your foot. “Don’t move,” he said, carefully tucking his arms under you and pulling you up so he could carry you. You tried not to grimace as your ankle flopped around from the jerkiness of the lift.

“I’m fine, James,” you said, the grip you had on his shoulder betraying your words.

“Just hold still, yeah?” he said, his worry for you evident on the crease between his brows. “I’ll get you up to the infirmary.”

Sirius was quick to run after the two of you, holding all three brooms under his arm.

“Alright, Y/N?” he asked as he walked in step with James.

“Yep,” you said, grimacing as James bounced you around a little too hard.

“Sorry- sorry,” he said, doing his best to hold you as still as possible as he started walking up the hill towards the castle. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, James, it’s not your fault,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder.

There was silence

“So, you reckon I’ll get an offer from Puddlemore next year?”

Sirius snorted.

“Oh, definitely, but they’ll be fighting offers from the Cannons and Harpies, too,” Sirius said. “But Puddlemore will give you the best offer, so you should play for them.”

“Maybe I'll just go wherever James gets an offer for,” you said as you all stepped inside the castle.

“Poor lad won’t get nearly as many as you,” Sirius said, shaking his head.

James chuckled hesitantly as you arrived at the infirmary, clearly trying to avoid the guilt gnawing at his stomach.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to usher you to a bed with a quick “Why is it always you lot?” and a wave of her wand.

James sat you down and was quick to grab your hand as you adjusted yourself on the bed. He sat on the edge of the hard wooden chair next to your bed. His hands cupped yours as his eyes glared daggers into your ankle.

“I should… I'll go put the brooms away,” Sirius said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. You nodded and he was out of there in the next moment.

“Jamie,” you said. He wasn’t looking at you. “James,” you said again, squeezing his hand. His eyes finally met yours, and you couldn’t find the words to describe the look of hurt on his face. “I’m alright.”

“I know,” he said shakily, a breathy chuckle coming from his mouth. “I know.”

“And it’s not your fault,” you said. He looks away from you again.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, the pain clear on his face even as he faced away from you. If there’s one thing that hurts James Potter more than seeing his loved ones in pain, it’s being the one that caused the pain.

“If I accept your apology will you stop moping?”

James laughed, his head ducking down and eyes crinkling at the sides. He brought your hand up to his lips, resting them on your knuckles before peppering kisses all over your hand.

“I truly don’t deserve you,” he said, smiling softly at you.

“Don’t go all soft on me now just because I’m injured,” you groaned as he moved to peck your cheek a few times.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Reverse Something Wicked au! A bit after the teens meet Reader, they go messing around in Logan's room. (Caise they're little terrors).

While snooping through his room they find a box in the back of the closet. Thinking it may have something embarrassing they open it to find a bunch of old stuff. Wooden toys, paring knives, a few pieces of clothing, and a ton of colorless photos.

They already knew that Victor and Logan were older than the dinosaurs, and they already knew that they were brothers. But there is a third person in the photos, so much smaller and younger than the other two.

It's that mutant that helped them the other day! They didn't know they, and the feral brothers were related! Though now looking at a little Logan carrying a baby like a cat, they can kinda see the family resemblance!

Now they have to get them to join! It'll be a family reunion!

Yeep!

The teens went looking for blackmail or some embarrassing things to tease Logan with; what they didn't expect to find was an old box or trunk full of items that look older than them, and old photos with someone younger than the two brothers, except... they know this person. This person saved them the other day!

Okay, they can get embarrassing stuff later; right now they need to stage a reunion!!!

Plus they can take photos of Reader for their two mentors, and hopefully get extra credit!

(Reader in the meanwhile senses trouble brewing...)

Logan and Victor are in near tears at the idea their bby sibling is still alive... that they might have a chance to apologize, to try and fix what happened between them...

Dear Nature they've missed them...

(It makes it all the worse once they realize Reader doesn't remember anything, not even their name or birthday or their own brothers...)

[snkts]

A long wooden case with no return address is left for Logan to find. The hinges are brass, the edges worn with age. Inside lay several polished blades, nestled in carefully so as not to rattle around. The assortment is made up of a shortsword and matching daggers, and then the reason for the case being the length it is: a spear, tipped in bronze. 

Bronze in color, at least. Closer inspection will reveal its nature as adamantine.

As adamantine comes from only one source, the gift giver is painfully obvious. The note tucked under the shortsword indicates that Hercules — the obvious sender — had intended it to be a show of good faith and an apology for years of bad behavior and embarrassment. Extra blades to use as protection in dire straits, a show of friendship.

The timing being on Logan's birthday might have been intentional, though there's no indication of a happy birthday anywhere — only a wish for good health and good luck on the back of the note. 

It’s been moved to his door when he gets home. It’s just sitting there. He stops mid-stride and tilts his head. What is that…? He scents the air once, twice. Then he freezes. There’s no way. 

There’s no fucking way. 

Logan knows that scent. It’s from a series of memories he only just got back - thanks to Charles and, regrettably, Wanda. It was strange and familiar at the same time. Yeah, he remembered that scent - he just never thought he’d smell it again. He shouldn’t be smelling it again. It had been so long… He lifts the box in his arms. It’s heavy, and he can hear metal - solid metal - shifting softly inside; anyone else would’ve missed it. Whoever left this here took great pains to make sure it was well-packed. The box itself is probably worth a good chunk of change - it’s old and sturdy and well-made. He kicks his door closed behind him and sets the box in front of his bed. He stares at it for a moment longer. It’s definitely from Herc. Aside from the smell, it’s exactly the sort of thing he would drop off - and not many people would be able to lift this damn thing to drop it anywhere. Logan pops the latch and swings the lid open. He can’t help but smile. 

“That old bastard.” He chuckles to himself. Yeah, only him. Logan pulls the shortsword out first, and gives it a few experimental swings. It’s well-balanced, sharp enough that the air whistles around the blade, and gleams even in the low sunlight coming through the balcony doors. Logan runs the edge along his palm and even with no pressure, the skin splits, bleeds, heals. Logan lets out a low whistle. This was a real beauty. Couldn’t find anything like that at your run-of-the-mill black market. (And he should know - he’d looked.) 

Setting that down on the bed, Logan turns to the daggers. Another show of master craftsmanship. He twirled them in his hands, admiring the way the cool metal glided against the callouses of his palms. He catches them in a reverse grip and runs through a quick drill, slashing and blocking and manoeuvring around an invisible opponent. These are also incredible - but not quite so eye-catching as the last item in the box. He sets the daggers aside and finally pulls out that beautiful goddamn spear. This, he grins at, wide and toothy, like a kid on Christmas. 

“Hello, gorgeous.” He coos. He twirls it slowly in his hands, pondering… Then he opens his balcony doors, cocked his arm back, and threw the spear with a grunt. It cracked into the trunk of a tree loud enough that it mimicked thunder and earned a series of shrieks from some nearby students. He swung over his balcony and dropped onto the grass.

“Logan!” The kids protest. He rolls his eyes as he walks towards the ruined tree.

“Relax. I wasn’t gonna hit ya’.” He says. He grips the spear with one hand, braces his foot on the trunk, and pulls, retrieving his prize before he turns to scale the wall and go back to his room. It’s only when he goes to put the spear back that he spots the note - it must’ve fallen out when he was playing around with the weapons. Huh. Logan stoops to pick the note up, holding it between two fingers as he reads. He hums, then glances over to the weapons and huffs a laugh. 

“Dunno what’cha think you did,” he says to the empty room, propping the spear over his shoulder, “but you’re alright in my books.”

[electronicwitchcollection]

my take on Shunsui headcannons~ human AU driving

~Shunsui loves driving. Will automatically open the passenger door for you before walking round to his own. Doesn't particularly care for cars/models themselves. Just loves the freedom. 

~windows down, wind blowing through both your hair when it's hot is preferred to the AC

~sings along loudly to the music you've both put on your shared playlist, will tap his hand on the wheel in time with the beat 

~never gets road rage but will find it amusing if he witnesses others

~takes the scenic route nearly everywhere you go, mostly through choice, sometimes because he has gotten lost/taken the wrong road

~hates traffic, avoids driving in the city when he can

~will sometimes just drive randomly, to see where it takes you. If you find a nice view, he'll park up for you both to enjoy. 

~ puts his arm around your seat to look back when reversing 

~rests his hand on your thigh when not changing gears

~loves the sound of heavy rain beating down on the metal roof. Will turn off the radio to listen to it when driving or if he isn't in a rush will park up to listen for a while.

~parking up somewhere dark and secluded to kiss like teenagers in the backseat is one of his favourite dates. Put off from having car sex, tried it once and he's just too big for the small space to work his magic. Might revisit if he ever gets a bigger car

~if he's picking you up from work and sees you waiting on a busy side walk, he will roll down the window and with a playful grin ask loudly "excuse me love, I'm looking for some company tonight, how much?"  You would think you would be used to it by now. But every time you blush furiously, get in quickly and hit him on the arm. He'll chuckle dirtily before giving you a  "sorry love, couldn't help it"  knowing he would definitely be doing it again just to see your blush

~never drinks and drives, which means he never drives as much as he would like. 

~awful at directions. Can't remember them, reads the wrong parts of the signs, will read a map upside down with complete certainty.  Too distracted figuring out where he supposed to be turning, he will unintentionally not hear your verbal directions "turning is coming up. Next left . This left. Shunsui, left! Never mind. You missed it" 

~keeps his car clean and organised, nothing like what he is like at work, or even at home. The car is cleaned weakly, trunk is organised with essentials you may need for a breakdown or an impromptu date. Glove box has your favourite candy stashed away.

[sam-glade]

Find the Word Tag

Tagged by the amazing @space-writes here and @dogmomwrites here. Thank you!

And passing the tag to: @sarahlizziewrites @acertainmoshke @autumnalwalker @flowerprose and leaving open tag. Your words are: sun, people, stone, fly.

Looking in The Fulcrum, and yes one of the character's name is '...', as in the absence of sounds. It's an experimental WIP, deal with it🙃

From Space: fall, find, wander, and journey.

FALL

The tall avian ties the raptor’s reins to a smaller trunk and strides off in the direction of the stream. The raptor sniffs the air and scratches at the ground, looking for a smooth area devoid of stones, where it may rest more comfortably. … smiles despite everything. Her own nest tonight won’t be any different, and she feels a wispy tie of camaraderie with the beast - oh, how low she has fallen.

FIND

She looks over her shoulder, the way they came. She wishes more than ever to return to Lornai. She can find her way there; the road is straightforward enough. However, she has no place in the holy city right now. She needs more than the knowledge of the route - she needs to reverse a verdict, to be issued an a’aran or perhaps have her old one returned to her. She needs a way to persuade the Priests to accept her into the chosen clutch.

WANDER

It is late; the stars begin to appear above the city, the Sash bisects the purple sky. The Sky Wanderers outshine it, their glow cold, distracting. Few elongated clouds creep in over the flat horizon, but for the most part the sky is clear — a testament to the fine weather that befits early growth season.

JOURNEY

First things first, the Land Treader warns her that it will take them over a month to reach the nearest Guildhall. She insists that the journey will pass a lot more smoothly if … acts more like an avian from outside the Fracture. …’s neck feathers bristle at that, but eventually she concedes — whatever it takes to speed things up. It begins to sink in that it may take multiple cycles until she sees Lornai again. She clenches her beak in grim resolve.

From Yav: ready, neither, pick, and shove.

READY

She hopes to reach the Apothecary before the Priests’ evocations begin, before avians start going about their day. The Apothecary rises early to prepare fresh salves and potions, to have them ready as soon as they are needed. He is kind and understanding, the Soulless assures herself. He will forgive the wilted herbs and bruised berries which she failed to deliver last night.

NEITHER

“Can you show me the way there, please?” She does as she is told. She offers neither a nod nor a bow, irritated by the coaxing tone. She turns around and traces the shore with her eyes.

PICK

The Apothecary hobbles over to a set of shelves farthest from his usual workstation. He pulls out a box of sheets made from sedge, their edges cracked from use and age. On each one there is a detailed drawing made in black ink, some faded to brown. He flips through them gently but swiftly, the dexterity of his fingers defying his age. He picks one and shows it to the Soulless.

SHOVE

She’s been perfectly obedient — what other choice did she have? She didn’t stop them when they started driving hands into the pouches at her belt, checking each one, shoving her this way and that. She didn’t squirm when one of the Peacemakers dug his fingers into her shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise, holding her in place. She didn’t point out that he didn’t need to.

[deramin2]

Tarot reading for CR C3 E64

Did a Blessing Challenge Action reading with my Botanica deck. The deck combines tarot with flower and plant cultural meanings and meaningful historical objects representing the suits. This deck isn't good for predictions, but it is good at introspection about what's currently happening and makes a great jumping off point for meta.

ID: Box, deck of cards, and 3-card pull from the Botanica deck on a white, grey, and black thick line plaid satin scarf. The box and deck of cards are black with gold foil stylized botanical line-work. Card descriptions:

1. Six of Coins reverse with a flowering and fruiting raspberry vine and Anatolian drachma coins from the reign of Alexander The Great.

2. Ten of Coins divinatory with a eucalyptus trunk and leaves and British cartwheel pennies from 1800 sent to the Australian colonies.

3. Knight of Coins divinatory with Honesty flowers and a Teng Dynasty silver hairpin with a carved dragon head.

End ID

Question:

Where are Bell’s Hell’s at going into C3 E64?

Pull:

Blessing: Six of Coins Reverse (Raspberry) The good things are hidden behind bramble. Pain before gain.

Challenge: Ten of Coins Divinatory (Eucalyptus) Security and stability. Inheritance.

Action: Knight of Coins Divinatory (Honesty/Moonewort) An honest, hard-working person. Steadfast, patient. Good with money.

Interpretation:

Blessing:

They've been through so much, good or bad, and they've changed without their person. (Arguably Laudna and Orym got worse.) Their relationships are going to be challenged. Team Issylra may be jealous of some off team Wildemount's wins. Team Wildemount may not fully understand the pain Team Issylra went through. But ultimately, it's going to form a stronger bond. And they might know better what they want. I think Laudna and Imogen may cling to each other more. They got good information about where things stand politically and what's at stake. They're all cut up, but they have the fruit and it's time to make a pie.

Challenge:

The challenge is to gather everything they've learned, everything they know, and to start planning. Including contacting key powerful people (like the Air Ashari, Whitestone, and Pike. Maybe Ajit Dial in Jrusar. The Cobalt Soul. Ira.) They have to gather more information about what did and didn't happen. But they're well positioned to pull it off and they have so many pieces they will be listened to.

Action:

Diligence is going to be key here. This isn't going to be done running headlong into battle as the lone heroes against the world. They keep their heads down, they recruit allies, they gather more information, and they come up with a solid plan all together.

[quiveringdeer]

Bertholdt has a pet box turtle named Berturtle. 🐢

So what had happened was.... tw for turtle car injury 😣 But they survive!!

It's fall, so many colorful leaves littering the ground. He really needs to find the time to rake the yard. Or at least get them off the driveway. Thing about box turtles is, the patterns on their shell make them amazing at camaflouge. And unfortunately Bertie second guesses himself a moment too late before he realizes that particular bright yellow smattering of color was not just fallen leaves. 😣

Luckily the driver's tire barely made any contact with the lil fella. But in a rush to close up in it's shell to avoid injury, it's back left leg didn't make it inside in time and the pressure from the tire bump caused some lacerations.

Bertholdt is rattled! He's never hit an animals before. He's such a careful driver. Any one of his peers would vouch for that! He dashes out of his car after reversing a few feet and scoops up the poor baby, tucking it against his tummy as he tries to figure out what the hell to do.

He can't just leave it out here after maiming it! Luckily there is a small box in his trunk where he keeps some extra waterbottles, protein bars and a first aid kit neatly tucked away for emergencies. Hastily, he dumps the contents of the box to scatter haphazardly in his trunk before tenderly tucking the turtle in his new makeshift emergency turtle transport container. Within minutes he's backing out of the driveway and zooming his way to the nearest vet. Is the vet where you take wild animals who are injured?? He has no idea but his brain is on autopilot.

Also, by zooming I mean he dares to go five over the speedlimit. The turtle is bleeding afterall and he has no idea if he's caused a more serious internal injury for the poor creature.

The front desk attendant greets a very flustered Bertie who is a mess of worry as he tries to describe the situation. They do their best to reassure him that they can fit in time to have the doc look the turtle over and gesture for him to sit and wait.

His shoulders sag wearily as both his legs bounce with anxious energy. His mind racing with all the whatifs of how this disaster could've been avoided. There was so much he wanted to accomplish in life and how could he do that if he was burdened with the title of turtle murderer? And what about the turtle? What aspirations and dreams had he now cut short because of his own shortsightedness? And here he was selfishly hung up on his own future troubles as if he hadn't just ruined the life of this innocent creature. Did it have a family? Did turtles maintain family units? What would a group of turtles be called? Where they close by? Had they seen their lovedone nearly crushed beneath the tire of his car? Had he inadvertently traumatized a whole gaggle of turtles? The antagonist of their story as knowledge of this tragedy is passed to future generations? Bertholdt Hoover, the turtle slayer. What would be the best way to make amends? Give offering to the turtle colony that potentially will be suffering a significant loss due to his gross negligence?

"Mr. Hoover?"

Bertholdt's body shoots up from the waiting room chair, startling the sweet lady and toy poodle to his right. He breathes a sincere apology for his swiftness before he follows the front desk attendant to a back exam room.

Longer story short, the vet puts Bert in contact with a local wildlife rehaber. The rehaber takes in the turtle and cares for it for a few weeks, monitoring it's wound ability to care for itself. The wound doesn't become infected and while it hinders the turtle's speed and agility, nothing else seems to be inhibiting the animal. Since it was a wild turtle, they can't legally release it into his care, even though it can't be released back into the wild. However, the rehab center does have space in their educational exhibit to let the turtle cohabitate with another unreleasable turtle friend.

While Bertholdt doesn't keep the box turtle at home, he visits and volunteers now at the rehab center often. Gabby is the one who christened the turtle Berturtle, when the rehaber gave him the opportunity to name the lil guy. She is very proud of the name.

[tomwambsmilk]

Moving is such a Herculean task it rlly should have been one of the 12 labours…. Obviously you know it’ll be big but you don’t know HOW big. Because you know you have a lot of Stuff and Things but it’s a manageable amount of Stuff and Things right? Except once you start packing the Stuff and Things start multiplying and now you still have the same amount of Stuff and Things to pack but there are also boxes all over your living room floor. So you decide it’s time to get rid of some of your Stuff and Things but what? And how? And now you’re trying to look up donation policies for your local Goodwill equivalent and it turns out they only accept items blessed by a Sapphic witch donated during the 40 minutes where the moon is brightest on the third Thursday of prime number months so now that’s on your to-do list. And then you think that maybe you should just throw out some of the Stuff and Things. Sucks to put it in a landfill but you’re really running out of time and options. So you go to the landfill and they say “give us $10000 to take your garbage” and you’re like excuse me????????? But they don’t budge so you give them your garbage and all the cash in your wallet and then you go home and there is STILL so much Stuff and Things but now there are no boxes. You could’ve sworn you had more boxes but they’ve vanished. So you look for two hours but eventually you give up and drive to Home Depot and buy more boxes and come home and the boxes you couldn’t find earlier are waiting to greet you in the foyer. So now there are too many boxes and now the boxes are part of the Stuff and Things that you need to fucking deal with. Meanwhile your house is getting messier and messier and you don’t understand how this could possibly be because SO MUCH of your Stuff and Things is now in boxes so where is the mess coming from???? Where?????? It has to be self-multiplying. It has to be. You go to bed at night and the clutter fucks and has clutter babies before you wake up. That’s the only possible explanation. Meanwhile you’re standing in front of the stove debating whether to cook (need the energy but do I want to buy more food I’ll have to deal with when I leave??) or eat out (this is costing me so much fucking money already) or eat two peaches and a cheese bun over the sink (this is fine I’m fine). So you take stuff down to start packing your car but your car has definitely shrunk. It wasn’t that tiny before. You used to own an adult’s Honda Civic and now you are presented with a child’s Hot Wheel. Your boxes have grown strange angles that prevent them from sitting neatly in the trunk and every garbage bag of clothing has swollen just a little too big for the gaps you’re trying to cram it and you knew you’d have to make multiple trips but this is ridiculous. So you give up and sit on the ground in your driveway and search the cost of renting a uhaul and then you look at your bank account and the damage deposit you’re not getting back and start cramming the boxes into the back of your car like a reverse birth and when you finally accomplish that you realize that you have left no room for your poor dog who’s waiting for you upstairs with his nose pressed against the window trying to get comfy on a couch full of Stuff and Things because you accidentally packed all his beds already and while you’re staring up at him trying to figure out how to rearrange your car you remember that you still have to cancel your PO Box

[ainews]

Crayons are a popular drawing instrument but some children may have observed a recent change in the factor that affects how quickly they wear down. Reason being, crayon manufacturer Crayola has recently switched its production of some of its crayon lines to a reverse shell.

A reverse shell crayon takes the wax core and instead of surrounding that blend of wax and pigment with layers of paper, it is instead encased in a hard outer shell of wax. This change from a traditional layering process to a reverse-shell process allows wax to soften gradually instead of majorly.

Crayola started using this method for its nearly 100 year-old "64 ct. Crayon Box" with 72 colors, that was released in 2003. Along with the switch in the production method, other updates were made in the set as well. Redesigned packaging, eight additional colors, two new effect crayons, improved sharpeners and thicker swivel barrels have all been added providing the consumer with improved, easy-to use crayons.

So why switch to reverse shell crayons? The reason for this change is simple, and primarily directed at the consumer’s benefit. The reverse shell crayon provides stronger color and brighter effect when used, all while retaining a softer, easier to grip feel – a feature that is more desirable for the younger artists. The crayon provides an improved life-span notoriously known to have worn out over time with previous models. This further encourages their creativity and has them drawing more with broader choices for magnificent pieces of artwork.

The reverse shell crayons give the user brighter colors, while also offering improved protection against unwanted breakage. This allows it to effectively hold up much better in the hands of children – enhancing their creative abilities. All while maintaining the same iconic shape and texture of a conventional crayon. The improved and lengthened lifespan of crayons entices children to reach for that brown to make a tree trunk, rather than a weak yellow-green to imitate the character’s shirt.

Crayola is actively making modifications to its classic crayon boxes to meet the preferences of its consumers, while remaining reliable. Reverse shell crayons are an effective way for Crayola to meet its goal of making coloring easy and fun for consumers, creating striking artwork.

[cauterisen]

@featherchan asked: Kanako was Kimiko's Secret Santa, and she was as excited and delighted as she was. It soon dawned on her that she wasn't sure what to get for her. During her mission, traveling around certain countries, she stopped in every store trying to figure out what to get for her. Seeing that this was her first Christmas with the Xiaolin members, she wanted to make a good impression on everyone. And the Lioness was close to giving up hope before an idea popped into her head. And on Christmas morning, "Merry Christmas, Kimiko…" She watched with excitement as she presented Kimiko with her gift. And inside the luxurious wrapper box was a black, stylish cross-body bag made of top-quality leather, and a small wooden case. Kanako then began to explain what the gift was. Firstly, she requested Kimiko to place the small case on the floor. "Watch this." Pulling out two Wu out of nowhere. "Reversing Mirror. Changing Chopsticks…" Changing the tiny case into a huge wooden trunk. And seeing this act, Master Fung immediately raised an eyebrow of disapproval. "It's just to fit the trunk into the box…" The Lioness smiled sheepishly before turning back to Kimiko. "You see, I got you a magic bag…" Noticing the funny looks she was getting from everyone. "No, no! Listen! Whatever you store in this massive trunk will appear out of this bag. Observe…" Putting a Christmas ornament into the trunk and closing it. "You just need to say the magic word and think of the item you want.." She chanted the magic word and mentioned Christmas ornaments. In a singing tone, "And tada!" She pulled the ornament out of the bag and checked the trunk; the ornament was gone. "For security purposes, you get to choose your own magic word. I have one myself and it is very useful, especially when you are traveling around the world and you need to carry a light load with you." In particular, she was worried about how dangerous things were getting for her Xiaolin teammates. "I hope you like it," Kanako said. She had to bribe a witch she knew to make it, including providing a warranty.

CHRISTMAS ASKS.

While Kimiko does appreciate getting gifts for all of her friends, she can appreciate the efficiency of a Secret Santa. It wasn't her idea, really, but she didn't mind it. There is a convenience to buying a gift for only one person, and the mystery of a Secret Santa is always intriguing to her.

She's pretty confident that she knows her friends and their tells. None of them are bad actors or liars, but she knows them well enough to usually know who she gets for Secret Santa every year. Not this year though. Try as she might, she can't glean any information from any of them. Not for a lack of trying, of course. None of them seem to know anything. It isn't until later on that she finds out why.

Kimiko, it turns out, had Kanako as a Secret Santa. Since she knew that none of the boys were her Secret Santa this year, she turned her attention to her own Secret Santa recipient… Raimundo. She got him a football kit and a signed football card, which were moderately difficult but worth getting. As a result, Kimiko hadn't been paying enough attention to the newest addition to the temple, and in hindsight, she should have. Kimiko is pleasantly surprised though, happy with her new gift. It's certainly handy, anyways.

'Oh, thank you!' She takes the bag, turning it in her hand. If there's anything she could use, it's storage space. 'How did you make this? I love it.'

[violettheabhorsen]

Project Sapphira - 2023/10/22

Since last we spoke I have started in on the door weather sealing, installed new locks, and researched tire options. Last blog here (tumblr)

The trunk and glove box locks were straightforward, although the glove box is a bit difficult to open, so I may have more work there. The original glove box lock was broken and crudely modified, as you can see here.

The ignition was easy, and I learned something. There is a small hole in the ignition cylinder that you insert something like a paperclip in. With the key in the cylinder and the paperclip you can rotate it counter-clockwise past the last stop position, and pull it out. Installing the new one is the reverse, but does not need the paperclip.

During that process I learned what was causing a vampire drain. The ignition has a plastic ring on it that says it has 4 positions: lock, off, on, and start. There is a super secret 5th position for accessories that is to the left of lock. So previously, I had been leaving it that position thinking it was locked, and it was running the radio and drained the battery.

I am somewhat baffled by lock being separate from off. On cars I have owned with physical keys before, the order was "off, accessories, on, start" and all positions captured the key. On this car no positions capture the key, and you can move between off-on-start and accessory to lock without the key being in place. Only going from off to lock and out of lock require the key.

The only reason I can think of is that you may want to leave the car running while using the key to unlock the glove box or trunk.

Onto the door locks. To get access to them I had to take the door cards and plastic seal off.

This required taking off both the window crank and door lock handles, which all had the same metal clips shown (badly) above. I used a tiny Allen wrench to push the clip out of place, and then the handle comes off.

The door lock is in the top opening. It has a metal clip holding the cylinder in that you can see here.

It is difficult to reach, but I was able to pry this out from the bottom door opening with a channel lock. Without the clip in place, it can be pushed / pulled out the front of the door panel.

Then it is a matter of transferring over the lever, keeping in mind that door locks are opposite for driver and passenger doors:

(My kit came with new gaskets and clips, which was good because the wishbone looking clips holding these levers on the cylinders both broke).

When reinstalling in the door, I added the new gaskets, made sure the peg was captured by the lock lever, and then tap the new clip in place with a brass rod.

On the topic of wheels, I am in a bit of a conundrum. I finally got the security socket for the wheels, and I could get the wheels off and for sure identify them.

According to my research, you need to measure 5 (or other rare odd numbered bolt patterns) by going from the outside of one stud to the middle of an opposite lug like this:

Even though this is close to 5x120mm, I think it is actually 5x120.63mm aka 5x4.75in. I have found the rims, and confirmed them.

This next part gets into a bit of eccentric territory (as if we were not already, lol). The front rims are 15x7J, and the rear rims are 15x8J, both with a zero offset.

The 15 is the diameter of the rims in inches and the J is the rim shape where the tire bead sits (as I understand it). The 7 and 8 is the width of the rim from bead to bead. So the rear rims are wider.

The front tire diameter is an inch shorter and 1.2 inches skinnier (185/60 R15 vs 215/60 R15). I don't like it. I want one tire size all around. I don't mind the look of these rims, so maybe I can get tires for the front that are the same diameter as the rear (speedometer seems to be tuned for them), and either get a new set of 4 rims, or replace the rear rims with two the same size as the front. (not to mention a spare and a set for winter tires).

[eohascats]

Au Réveil

Au réveil — upon waking.

Was sixteen hours without sleep enough to hallucinate, Tobio wonders, because the tall blond waiting in the Arrivals Hall of Narita International couldn’t really be there.

Story rating: T (cross-posted to AO3)

tags: tsukikage, canonverse AU, post timeskip, manga spoilers

Was sixteen hours without sleep enough to hallucinate, Tobio wonders, because the tall blond waiting in the Arrivals Hall of Narita International couldn’t really be there.

Could he?

Tobio doesn’t remember telling anyone other than Miwa his flight number, and that’s because she’s pushy and paranoid and keeps the flight tracker open on her laptop until he’s safely back on terra firma every damn time.

“Good, you’re here,” the vision says and oh speaking hallucinations couldn’t be a good sign. “Do you remember which baggage claim your flight is going to?” But Tsukishima is already standing, long body unfolding into his consistently-impressive 195-centimeter frame and moving to stand in front of a status board. He checks his phone for something before looking back up, eyes darting quickly over the list of flights and their designated carousels.

“Umm,” Tobio manages to get out, still trying to reconcile himself with what must be a lucid dream because there’s no way that Tsukishima Kei is here for him.

“Seventeen,” Tsukishima says, nodding in confirmation to himself before moving towards the large “17” sign hanging from the ceiling. “C’mon, King. Let’s get your shit and go home.”

Which — what? Home? Did he — did he mean Tobio’s apartment in Tokyo or Tsukishima’s in Sendai or their family homes back in the Miyagi countryside? The latter’s the closest he’s ever had to a ‘home’ with Tsukishima — memories of study parties and movie nights and sleepovers at any of the Karasuno 5’s houses flooding in — but a ‘home’ with Tsukishima was a daydream come true.

Too bad this is all only happening in the recesses of his mind.

Except —

Except when Tobio reaches out to touch him, brushes the tips of his fingers against the the thick wool covering the blond’s obnoxiously attractive elbow, Tsukishima doesn’t disappear in a puff of smoke or collapse in a pile of dust.

He feels real.

He feels real and looks back at Tobio with golden eyes and a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes?” he asks.

Tobio says nothing, shaking his head and hurrying to catch up.

He’s beginning to question his sanity because Tsukishima insists on rolling Tobio’s suitcase to what he clearly remembers is Yamaguchi’s car, putting the luggage in the trunk before folding himself into the driver’s seat. Tobio sits next to him in the passenger seat and if this were a dream, wouldn’t they fit in the car a little better? As it stands, the blond seems like he barely fits behind the steering wheel, hair brushing the felted lining of the car and knees sticking up over the gear box.

Tobio adjusts the seat to be as far back as it can and it’s better than the plane — infinitely better, with the radio playing and the smell of Japan and fresh air (as fresh as it can be, in a car in the parking lot of Tokyo’s major international airport) and Tsukishima Kei to his right — but his knees still brush against the glove compartment every time he shifts his hips.

Tsukishima starts the car and puts it in reverse. Tobio reaches out to touch the hand resting on the gear shift, long fingers and a smattering of fine spun-gold hair, and it occurs to him to ask, “Where are we going?”

Pale features turn towards him once again, and the look on his face is soft. Not fully a smile but more than neutral and while Tobio had evidence that this was real, the fondness written around those golden eyes had to be a dream.

“Your apartment,” he answers. “Unless there’s somewhere else?”

“No,” Tobio responds, settling into the seat. The car is pleasantly warm without being stuffy and though the car is small, he is comfortable. Soft music plays through the speakers and he’s drifting off, awake for far too long and seven time-zones out of sorts. “I’ll go wherever you take me.”

He doesn’t realize he’s intertwined their fingers.

~*~

The man sitting next to him is beautiful, Kei thinks, even though he’s spent the better part of the past 24 hours traveling and is not his freshest. Kageyama Tobio is a vision, an absolute dream, and he’s sitting just to his left, no more than a foot or so away, and Kei isn’t sure he’s realized he laced their fingers together.

Kageyama’s hand is unsurprisingly warm, the callouses on his palm rubbing pleasantly against the back of Kei’s as he changes gears, navigating out of the parking lot to the highway.

The man asleep in the passenger seat next to him is beautiful, even as his head lolls to the side, lips slightly parted, snoring lightly from the awkward angle of his neck. He is beautiful and Kei is fairly certain he is in love. He had his suspicions when he asked Miwa for his flight information in the course of casual conversation as she cut his hair. He had his suspicions when he asked Yamaguchi if he could borrow his car, a plan already half-formed in the back of his mind. Those suspicions were confirmed when he looked up from his phone to check the arrivals status board for the umpteenth time, eager to get on with whatever this was, only to lock eyes with a hauntingly familiar blue gaze.

Tobio hadn’t talked much — he never did, really, always more expressive through actions — but Kei’s heart leapt when Tobio reached out to touch him.

The man who slotted their fingers together before dozing off is beautiful and Kei is pretty certain he loves him, and has an inkling that maybe Tobio loves him too.

It should feel sudden, it should feel abrupt and like an earthquake or a tsunami or volcanic eruption. The realization should irrevocably change him, like there is a Kei-Before-Tobio and a Kei-After-Tobio but Kei realizes that the realization hardly changes anything at all, that the Before and After versions of himself happened a long time ago.

The man sitting next to him is beautiful and Kei thinks that he’s probably been in love with him for a while now. Kei thinks that maybe, just maybe, Tobio has been waiting for Kei to realize it too, given the sweetly sleepy way he told him he’d follow Kei anywhere in not so many words.

He doesn’t fully know what he’s doing — the plan was still only half-formed when he left for Tokyo earlier that morning, wanting to see Kageyama first and play it by ear — and he’s glad that Kageyama’s not awake to see him internally panic over his next steps. Those blue eyes always saw more of Kei than he intended to share.

The hand on top of his twitches and he takes a deep breath, inhaling until his rib cage protests and letting it all out in a whoosh. The stretch of his diaphragm provides a nice counter to the strangle-hold his emotions have around his heart.

For now, there’s only one course of action: drive to Kageyama’s apartment. Only time would dictate his next move. Well, time and Kageyama.

Kei isn’t good with rolling with the punches, too accustomed to analyzing details and playing the long game. But Kageyama has always made him act rashly and all of his meticulous planning hasn’t gotten him anywhere so far.

It’s both too far and not long enough before he’s pulling in to the parking lot and shaking Kageyama awake.

~*~

Tobio is confused about the dream-ness of this all because he thinks he fell asleep in a car with Tsukishima outside the airport but now he’s waking up with Tsukishima in a car outside his apartment. Waking up from a dream within a dream is not something he’s ever done before. He wonders if Yachi would know if it’s possible, since the only other person he would think to ask is sitting next to him, and he doesn’t want to clue Tsukishima in to the fact he has no idea what’s happening.

Cause whatever is going on? He likes it. He likes the Tsukishima that shows up unannounced at the airport for him, he likes that Tsukishima got a car to drive him, he likes waking up to a gentle nudge coupled with a, “we’re home.”

He likes it a lot and would prefer it not to end. Tsukishima was like a wild animal in that regard, though — easily startled and highly likely to revert back to better-established behaviors.

And then he’s being herded into an elevator and down a hallway and through his front door and he’s home, as much as this can be home considering he’s only here for roughly five months of the year.

He’s hungry, tired and smelly, equally tempted by the shower, bed and prospect of dinner. Tsukishima pushes him towards the bathroom.

“Clean up. I’ll cook us something.”

And Tobio rolls with it. Pointing out how out of character this all was would be akin to asking ‘why’ and he didn’t want to venture into that territory.

He pulls a clean set of lounge clothes from his bag and heads to bathe.

As an athlete, Tobio has learned to relish the burn in his lungs and ache in his muscles associated with a good workout or productive practice — they’re signs of progress, of steps forward towards his goals. But nothing ever quite compares to a hot shower, whether after a game, a run or a flight.

Near-scalding water beats down on his head, neck and back and while he feels more relaxed than he has since he last went to sleep in Rome nearly 30 hours prior, the exhaustion and aches associated with sitting in the same small seat for prolonged periods of time are making themselves known.

He presses his forehead against the cool tile of the shower stall, trying to get his bearings in between washing his hair and body. Facts, as they currently stood, were as follows:

Tsukishima Kei met him at the airport, which required him to have found out from Miwa when exactly his flight was.

Tsukishima Kei met him at the airport with Yamaguchi’s car, which meant he had driven the more-than-five hours from Sendai instead of just taking the train.

Tsukishima Kei met him at the airport and drove him ‘home’, to Tobio’s Tokyo apartment, where he is now making them dinner while Tobio presses his head against the wall, trying to determine if this whole thing is a dream.

Tact and deductive reasoning — key for navigating this situation — have unfortunately never been his strongest suits. His setter hands, normally so dexterous, are more likely to fumble this blown-glass-delicate thing they’ve built over the past two hours.

He finishes up and heads back to the kitchen.

~*~

Kageyama steps out of the hallway with sweatpants slung low around his hips, a towel slung around his neck and if not for the exhaustion written into every plane of his overly-pretty face, he’d be the manifestation of Kei’s wet dreams.

He ambles over to the island, leaning against the counter near to where Kei is stirring miso soup.

“You’re still here,” he says. He sounds like he doesn’t believe it.

Kei checks on the rice cooker before meeting Kageyama’s gaze. “I said I’d make dinner, didn’t I?”

“I thought…” he trails off, looking off to the side.

“Thought what, King?” Kei prods.

“Thought I’d imagined it. This. You, here.”

“You thought you imagined me driving you home?” he teases but, truth be told, Kei’s heart has been racing since he heard the water shut off. The only task left on their to-do list for the day was ‘talk’.

Kageyama shoots him a deadpan sapphire stare, then lets his head drop forward. He grunts at the stretch. Kei wants to reach over, dig his fingers into the muscles presented to him.

“I’m — leave me alone, I’m tired.”

“You can go to sleep,” Kei says, “I’ll stick this in the fridge.”

“No!” Kageyama reaches out a hand, wrapping long fingers around Kei’s wrist. “No. I…is it almost ready? I’m hungry.”

The rice cooker chimes that it’s done and Kei shoots him a soft smile. He pulls away, plates the food and brings it over to the table with a pitcher of water. Kageyama isn’t sitting down yet so Kei turns to look for him.

He’s closer than Kei anticipates, within arms reach and Kei sees his hand outstretched but low, aiming for the hem of his own sweater.

“You’re really here?”

Kei’s breath catches in his throat. There’s a naked vulnerability in Kageyama’s eyes that makes him swallow, pause and relent even though most of his instincts are yelling for either flight or defensive tactics. For all that he’s supposedly good with words, these don’t come easily to him. He wants many things: to eat, because he is hungry; to run, because he has never traversed difficult conversations with grace; to kiss the man in front of him and welcome him ‘okaeri’, because his heart finally, finally understands what it wants after years of denial.

If only they could step into the relationship without the requisite preamble. If only they could regain the time they’d lost to foolishness.

“Yeah,” he says, voice more of a whisper than any substantial thing. “Yeah, I’m really here.”

“How long are you staying?” As long as I can, Kei thinks. As long as you’ll let me. “The night? It’s late for you to drive back.”

Kei can’t suppress the small smile that overtakes his face. He huffs a laugh.

“I’m not sure I’ll fit on your couch, King.”

They both look at the sofa, broken-in but more decorative than anything and definitely far too small for Kei’s lanky frame.

“Then you’ll have to sleep in the bed,” Kageyama says, taking a tentative step closer.

Kei bites the inside of his cheek, wrapping an arm around Kageyama’s waist and pulling him in closer.

“I guess I’ll have to,” he says, like it’s not a dream come true.

You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you.   Richard Siken